IN STITCHES
by
Gail Gardner
Chris eyed Peso critically. Yep. Something was definitely wrong with the right foreleg. He squinted. Peso was a black horse, but when the sun hit him the right way...Deep heather. No. Hmm. Aubergine. How does Vin do it? Eats nothing that hasn't been processed out of plastic, chocolate, and red dye 40, and he remains so healthy? I have to get the team to their checkups on time this year. Last year was such a circus...
One of deep heather and one of aubergine. That's the color. Nathan's been getting some flack at work from that piss-ant jerk McGuire. It has gone beyond professional jealousy. Hownheck did someone get in the ATF with such a bad attitude about other people being different? Matter of fact Nathan's the most 'normal' of all of us.
Chris snorted inelegantly as he threaded the needle. The cross-stitch of Peso in his corral was only about half done. It was the first time he had made his own pattern from a photograph JD had taken. JD's been moaning about that new digital camera again. The one we have is okay, but he says the new one is more - what did he call it? - software friendly. Chris raised his eyes from the needlework frame. His first kit, an eagle, was proudly displayed over his desk. The boys had merely assumed that the work had been Sarah's and that he'd unbent enough to put it out.
A small cushion that was supposed to be bargello was at the end of the sofa. It had taken its own lead and ended up looking like a sick fractal. He stuck to cross stitch after that fiasco. This next case is going to be tight. Planning is everything. Gotta think ahead, see the whole picture. He consulted the chart. Put Buck with Ezra undercover? Now what was wrong with this picture? Ah, it should be a three-quarter stitch. On such a big piece it was surprising how much, one little mistake could make the whole picture look funny. No. Vin would be better. I'll lose more sleep knowing those two trouble magnets are together, but they would be the best in this case.
The gold needle slid easily through the canvas, pulling the thread easily behind it. It was heavier than your usual embroidery needle, but it made the stitching much effortless, once you learned to hold it. The flash of gold, just like Ezra's tooth. Ever since he came back from his last vacation with Maude, I haven't seen him smile, really smile. Me and the boys will just have to threaten to drag him on a camping trip and then cancel it. That'll brighten him up.
Chris loosened the frame screws and moved the piece up a few inches to place the horse's leg more in the center. He carefully pulled the fabric around evenly, so it wasn't crooked and then tightened the frame up again. The blank canvass now dominated. Josiah's profiles are almost beyond me. Taking little bits and pieces of thought, evidence, words, and fact and putting together a picture. I feel better sending the boys in undercover when they have so much to work with, this next case will depend on it - heavily.
Chris eyed the progress with satisfaction. This was art. A fine craft. Needlework was not limited to women. Buck has been seeing a lot of Diane lately. He knows she's married, I just hope I don't have to pick up the pieces after her enraged husband tears him to bits. He is such a sucker for the big eyes and 'My husband doesn't speak to me' story.
The old carriage clock over the fireplace chimed gently seven times. Chris sighed and put away the needle work carefully, sliding the gold needle into the little velvet case. He stretched his neck muscles that were a little tight from the close work.
"Ummm. So nice to just do something mindless and not have to think." He remarked to himself.
6 WEEKS LATER...
Chris grunted as he hauled the heavy leg long cast up onto the footstool. Why on earth did that blankety blank doctor have to cast his whole leg? The break was only a minor one and just below the knee. Points of stress the fellow had blathered on about. Stress my...Halting a rather scathing thought addressed to members of the medical profession, Chris reached for the bag holding his embroidery frame. Maybe doing the needlework would take his mind off the dull ache in his leg and the strain on his back muscles hauling that 20 pound cast around.
Peso had turned out real well. Too well. Once framed and hung in his living room he hadn't realized that it was a sure telltale that this work was not done by Sarah.
CHILD'S PLAY
by
Gail Gardner
One two buckle my shoe...
His head hurt. Of course it hurt, having hit it on a concrete wall, with all of Buck's not inconsiderable bulk driving him into said wall. Mind you it was a damn sight better than being skewered by the forklift truck that the perp had decided was a fair weapon.
Three four shut the door...
He'd thought he'd got off scott free from serious injury, but the inelegant throwing up and walking around in little circles squawking had tipped off the team. Buck's description of course. He would have said it better had he been coherent at the time. He shoved a pin into the cushion.
Five six pick up sticks...
He'd learned to do this when he was ten. A head injury of more serious nature then. The cousins he'd been staying with decided to teach him how to ride a bike. They were patient with him- up to a point - and with only hours old skills sent him careening down a hill lovingly called 'Suicide Hill'. He woke up in the hospital a week later almost unable to speak or move without difficult jerky movements. Maude had come to his side, but almost immediately left unable to sit with her 'darling boy in his terrible state'. It was his aunt who had hit on the best way to get his scattered brain back on track.
Seven eight lay them straight...
His hands moved at first hesitantly and then more quickly as he moved the ivory bobbins in their pattern over the pillow. His first piece of lace had been nothing more than a snarl of thread. His aunt had guided his hands carefully through the patterns, counting the moves. It took weeks before he was able to produce more than an inch of what could resemble lace, but his hands had stopped trembling and he could at least count out loud. Strangely enough whenever he counted cards in a poker game or handled a deck it felt like lacemaking. Both were complexities of numbers following patterns and manual dexterity. Well, shuffling a deck in front of the boys was accepted. How would they feel if they knew that the fine lace edging his feather pillows had been made by him? A nice pattern that one. He'd even considered edging the comforter, but figured it was just a little too effeminate. The pillows were just the right touch, appearance was everything.
Nine ten a big fat hen...
"Hey Ez!" Buck's voice boomed from behind him. The headached bloomed in intensity and his hands faltered in their intricate movement. "Ya left your front door unlocked."
"So the flies can get in..."Standish turned hoping to block Buck's view of the pillow and the lace pinned to it with the spread of bobbins placed around it.
"We brought you some food and your meds. Nathan said you forgot them." JD added from behind Buck.
"If you brought food then I suspect you've left it in the kitchen with Vin." Standish suggested smoothly. That ought to get them out of the room.
"Dang!" JD bolted for the kitchen "Hey Vin leave me some!"
"Well, well, well." Buck drawled grinning wickedly. "Watcha doin' there Ez?"
"It is a study of coordination and counting and is excellent therapy for a head injury, especially one caused by being a sandwich between a rock and hard place." Standish hoped that maybe Buck would get the hint.
"Hell Ez, looks like lace to me."
Standish stepped aside with a sigh letting Buck see the work in all of it's intracacy. "I suppose this will become a sure subject of mirth among you all." He grumbled rubbing his temples.
"I won't tell if you don't want me to." Buck said. "Hell if I did that I'd have to tell about Chris doing cross stitch." He looked deeply satisfied as Ezra's face dissolved into disbelief.
"Cross stitch?"
"Darn right. Remember that picture of Peso that we all admired. Chris did it. Think about the logic of it. Unless your head's still too scrambled."
"Of course, never saw Vin's horse, so how could she have done it. But," a gleam settled in the southerner's eye. "Someone else could have done it for him."
"Mebbe. But how can you explain the pictures that show up about every month or two. Nope. Chris does them. I think it helps him relax, be calmer."
The two men eyed each other. "Yeah right." they said together.
"So...you will not make this hobby of mine known." Standish said carefully.
"Nope. Won't breathe a word, pard. Got my word on it." Buck held out his hand. "Shake on it."
Ezra cautiously put his hand out to have it wrung heartily.
"Now would you look at that!" Buck said pointing at his cuff. "I got me a frilly dress shirt that would just be crying for a fancy little bit of lace on it. You wouldn't believe how the fillies go for a man that is willing to show his feminine side."
"This is going to cost me?"
"Yep. A set of genuine lace cuffs made by E. Standish. Fair enough?"
"Just push up against another concrete wall will you? Oh fair enough."Ezra muttered rebelliously.
"I'll go rescue us some food." Buck left hastily.
Ezra smiled to himself as he put the lace things away in the cedar chest. Rolls of delicate handwork were lovingly wrapped in tissue, enough to give Buck lace cuffs for every shirt he had. The smile widened. Wonder how Buck would feel if every shirt he had was equipped with lace cuffs. That would really show everyone his 'feminine side'. Would it be worth while to reveal his hobby to Vin? Vin would be the perfect accomplice. He chortled wickedly. Funny how lace making always took away his headaches.
The counting rhyme, One. Two. Buckle My Shoe is said to refer to lace making. The sticks are the bobbins, laying them straight is the pattern. The 'Big Fat Hen' is considered to be the special lace pillow. I've never made lace, always seemed terribly complicated, so I figure it suits a complicated person.