Firstly, thank you to C.I. TigerFan, who through a review of my story got me watching, and now owning the complete series of The Magnificent Seven on DVD. Thanks!
Secondly, I'm not a 'Western' buff. I don't know the language well, I don't know why the stable is called a livery?, and I don't know much of the culture expect for what I could pick up from tv and movies. So, please forgive a foreigner's attempt at writing a western fan fiction.
Thirdly, the story. As with all tv shows that end before their time, I don't watch the last episode. I hate how they kill everybody, or do something completely ridiculous to the final episodes. So this story is taken three years after 'Serpents', incidentally I only finished watching last week. As the story wasn't complete in my eye, I jumped on my tablet and typed non-stop for three days. So, it's raw, no beta. But at least the next few chapters are mostly done. I have no idea where I'm going with this story, except that I couldn't leave the ending the way it was - without a happy ending.
0000
Morning had become a bustling business in the summer months in the thriving town of Four Corners, people preferring to conclude their affairs before the sun set too high in the sky. Patrons filled the tenders, the town alive with prosperity.
The lawlessness of merely five years ago was nothing but a footnote, a charming historic 'did you know' during polite conversation.
Five years and any of the long term residents of Four Corners told fables over whiskey or tea and scones about the seven gunfighters who answered the call. From the young greenhorn to the older and wise preacher, the tales of those seven men grew even more fantastic with each telling.
And none of the seven was more infamous than their leader, Chris Larabee, whose wife and son had been murdered and the rogue having sworn vengeance upon those responsible. With the man himself having quitted the town three years earlier, nowadays there was little discouragement for the addition of more fiction; the stories had gone beyond the realm of ridiculousness.
Since the sudden departure of their leader, the majority of the seven had since moved on, seeking new horizons and opportunities elsewhere where the streets weren't filled with newcomers every other day.
Three, however, had chosen to remain having something of an investment in the town; John 'JD' Dunne, Nathan Jackson, and Ezra Standish.
One whom the stories thankfully mostly omitted was Mrs Mary Travis' and her involvement with the seven. A widow with a young son, she was glad of the lack notoriety afforded to her, having her own famous name to contend with as she continued to build her successful and highly respected newspaper, now employing a half dozen people.
Mary Travis' fame came via her own means; the editor of an influential newspaper, a well respected widow and firm advocate for women's rights, and the mix of beauty and tenacity had made her one of the more noticeable residents of Four Corners.
Notable to some and the fancy of many men.
Though mostly a passing fancy, for not since the exit of Chris Larabee from the town was Mrs Travis sighted looking at any man in a way that may have suggested her interest in remarrying.
Of course, there were still those who tried, even more so since Larabee left. But it was a fool who didn't realise the woman's heart was no longer up for the taking.
A heart pained by not one, but two heartbreaks.
As Mary wandered through the crowded marketplace on that sultry morning, she passed many new faces and school her face pleasant as ladies always did and nodded to those who stood aside to allow her passage or dipped their hat. A few faces were recognisable and she bidded them good morning with a polite smile but didn't stop.
This morning was an exciting one; Mr Jenkins had promised her the delivery of the new school books for her son Billy today.
It was bittersweet though, because although Mary was excited for the arrival of books taken from the syllabus of some of the finest schools in the cities, her son would rather gone fishing or hunting then read any of them.
Billy Travis was a smart boy of eleven now, but cared not for the things his mother did. Billy didn't understand the excitement of books from the city schools, or to spend hours upon hours reading. He prefered being outdoors, or doing chores around the town for money. He especially loved going out riding on his young hobby-horse, Windbag. Buck Wilmington had ridding back into town six months ago for a short stopover and bringing him a belated eleventh birthday present; a pony.
Buck had been one of the seven, but these days frequented towns more to the south towards Mexico. His tastes were for a quieter town, with plenty of women. He'd come for the night, had a quiet word with Billy, then went on his way the next morning.
Still Billy was over the moon with his present and has since insisted on daily rides. Mary didn't begrudge him and allowed him as much freedom to do the things he loved, as long as his schooling was up to date and his chores at home were done.
Reaching Mr Jenkins shop, Mary went inside and approached the owner with a great big smile, "Mr Jenkins, good morning. Today is the day."
"Good morning, Mrs Travis. As promised, I have delivery of your order."
"Oh wonderful," she grinned broadly, "Billy will be so pleased." Well he wouldn't be but she was. She was enough for both of them.
"Wait one moment and I'll go fetch it for you."
"Thank you."
While Mr Jenkins went out back, Mary picked up a dime book and flicked through the pages. Billy enjoyed reading those books, stories of heroes with pistols and rifles, riding out into the sunset. His favourite was The Magnificent Seven, for obvious reasons. Perhaps if she could find one or two newer stories, it might ease him into the arrival of the new school books.
Flicking through the thin books, her eyes scanned the titles. She had a good memory of all the ones Billy already owned-
"Excuse me Mrs, but you simply have to be her."
Taken aback, Mary looked to her right and saw a pretty woman about her own age, perhaps younger, her face broadly smiling, her eyes wide with excitement, "I beg your pardon?"
The woman was in a pretty peacock-blue coloured dress of fine make and wore a hat adorned with peacock feathers that had little to do with keeping sun off her fair face, "Oh, you must be her. I cannot see it anyother way."
"Excuse me, ma'am, but I don't know what you're talking about."
The woman laughed, "Oh, forgive me. I am Miss June. I am simply the biggest fan of the book, the Champion of the Rose and come my vacation, I got myself on the train to Four Corners to seek you out."
"The Champion of the Rose?"
"You don't know it? The most delightful book, if a little sad. When I heard the characters were based off the townsfolk of Four Corners, I had to come see for myself."
Mary smiled politely, "I am sorry Miss June, you must have me mistaken with another. I have not been written in any novel." She faced the woman fully and extended her welcome, "I work at the newspaper, the Clarion News. I am Mrs Travis."
"How do you do, Mrs Travis," she took her hand with an even broader grin and Mary felt compelled to step away from her. "My my, never did I imagine you'd be this pretty."
Mary frowned, "I am sorry, but I am at a loss."
Miss June chuckled, "You simply must be her; the Rose!"
Nodding incredulously, she asked, "The Rose from the Champion of the Rose?"
"Exactly!"
Still nodding, Mary really wished Mr Jenkins would hurry up, "I assure you, Miss June, I am no heroin in a book. I am just a mother who runs the local newspaper."
"Oh," she shook her head, "but you have to be. See here-" she pulled a book out of her clutch bag and held it out to her. "A woman with unsurpassed beauty. Hair the colour of cornsilk, eyes of smokey grey, lips red like a desert rose," Miss June recited without looking at the book. "Independent, courageous and her heart taken by the gunslinger who saved her town."
Mary took the book from her, glancing at it, looking nothing more like a dime-shelf romance. "And from that vague description, you think this woman is me?"
"Oh, no. Much more. You did just say you work for a newspaper?"
"I do."
Miss June gleamed excited, "Please, Mrs. Is your father in law a judge?"
The breath escaped Mary.
"And did you not stand in front of a lynch gang, trying to stop the negro doctor from hanging, sorry if I sound in delicate."
Mary felt dizzy, "How do you know all this?"
The other woman held up the book still in Mary's hand, "It's all in here. Do you think I could press you for an autograph?"
Mary looked from the book back to Miss June, "Autograph?"
"Please. That would truly make this little adventure of mine completely wonderful. And I don't suppose you could also tell me where the Champion is these days? That would be so delightful to have both your autographs, side by side. For my collection you understand."
Mary shook her head, "I don't understand. Who would've done this?" Snapping her focus sharply back to the woman, she demanded, "Who is the author?"
Miss June was still smiling, "Why it's Mrs Dorothy Fletcher, a gift from god himself to the art of romance genre."
"I never heard of her. How could someone write so much about me when I don't even know her."
"I can not answer that but would you sign my book? And where can I find the handsome rogue?"
"Mrs Travis? Here it is, sorry for the delay. My eyes aren't as good as the used to be."
Mary looked back over her shoulder at Mr Jenkins, struggling with a large box parcel of books, then returned to the woman, "I'm sorry but I have business to attend to. Would you meet me later at my office, Miss June? I would like to have a chance to look at this book first. Mr Jenkins?" she looked to him and pointed to Miss June's hand, "By any chance do you have this book?"
Mr Jenkins peered in close, "Unfortunately not. We don't stock a lot of dime-shelf romances."
"No need," Miss June grinned, "Please, take mine. I always keep a second copy in my luggage. Just in case, you know, thieves and such."
"Thank you," she whispered and watched the woman head towards the door, "Say two o'clock, at the Clarion News?"
Once the door closed, she whirled on Mr Jenkins, "Forgive me, Mr Jenkins. That woman has quite taken me by surprise."
The old man nodded, "more and more new folk are moving to the region these days, bringing all types. Must make you yearn for the old days."
Mary thought about the old days, seeing Nathan being dragged away to be hanged because his patient died of an incurable disease.
Then of course hers thoughts turned to Chris and caused her already palpitating heart to ache, just as it always did when her thoughts strayed upon him.
0000
"Gentlemen?" Mary strode up to where the last remaining three of the seven hired guns, JD, Nathan, and Ezra sat at the table outside the saloon.
"Mrs Travis."
"Mary," Nathan stood up and pulled out a chair for her.
"Mrs Travis? Joining us on this fine day for an equally fine beverage?"
Mary took the seat, "Thank you. I need to discuss something with the three of you. It's a little, embarrassing."
"You know you can talk to us," JD smiled.
Mary held up the book, "Have any of you heard about this?"
Nathan peered in close to read the title, "Champion of the Rose? No, ma'am."
JD shook his head.
Ezra laughed lightly, "I don't often indulge in the quaint literature of women-folk."
Mary tossed the book into the middle of the table and sat forward, "This book is of me."
"You?"
"What do you mean?"
She breathed in, "It's as if someone has taken two years of my life and turned it into fanciful fiction."
"You mean there are similarities?"
"No. I'm saying it's all about me. From the moment those men tried to hang you, up until," she stopped, "up until three years ago."
"When Chris, Vin, Buck and Josiah left?"
She nodded, "Exactly. I mean, the author embellished a whole lot but, the essential parts of those two years are in there."
"And it centres on you?"
Swallowing, she admitted, "And Chris."
JD laughed, "you sure you didn't write it."
"JD, I'm serious. Someone has taken events of my life, some of it personal, things said or done only amongst my friends and put it into this book."
"That'd creep you out. Heck, that'd creep me out."
"I am creeped out, Nathan. Whomever this Dorothy Fletcher is, she knows a whole lot about me."
"Do you mind?"
Mary looked at Ezra, "Just please do remember some of the more colourful scenes are completely fictional."
Ezra nodded, taken the book from the table, "I've read some of my mother's collection of dime-shelf romances. I'll try not to picture you with the hero during the more lavish romantic scenes."
"So Chris is the hero?" JD asked.
"Who else would it be," Ezra scoffed.
Mary set her jaw, "What do you mean?"
"Well, it could've only been Chris," Nathan put forth delicately before the others could answer. "The only one of us who it could be."
"And why do you say that, Mr Jackson? Surely a lady as fine as Mrs Travis would find romance with a gentlemen like me."
Mary sighed, "The name in the book is Charlie but it's Chris."
Ezra scoffed then started at the first page.
"How did you come by this?"
"A women in the bookstore. She said she'd come out here from the city to find the real Rose and Charlie. She gave me this book to sign and was going to come by my office at two o'clock but she never showed."
"Look, Mary, I know this is weird but I don't know if it's worth getting upset about. Chris was well known, not just around here, but throughout the entire south-west-"
"This is more than that! This isn't people talking gossip over the fence, this is someone going through my life."
"But you're not named."
"Anyone around here reads it, they'll know who it's portraying."
"And if it's as steamy and suggestive as most other novels of this genre, you certainly wouldn't want certain people reading it."
"Mr Standish," Mary ground.
Ezra held up his hand, "No, no, I understand. What woman doesn't dream of being in a romantic novel with Chris Larabee, right?"
"Mr Standish."
"Ezra," Nathan warned.
"Not like he's a suave and charming gentlemen of sophistication-"
"Be jealous some other time," JD growled, then looked at her, "Got another copy?"
"No," she stressed, "And once I find out who wrote it, this one and any other copy I find will be destroyed. One big bon-fire."
JD sat forward with a sympathetic smile, "If it helps, I don't think Chris'd be caught reading this type of book anyway."
"Well, thank you JD. But that's only half the problem. If people around here get wind of this-"
"We won't tell 'em."
"And how someone was able to find out so much about me?"
"Might be a prudent measure to take notice of anyone following or asking questions of you," Ezra suggested from behind the book.
That scared Mary, "Why?"
"This woman who gave you the book. She makes an appointment then fails to turn up. Then as you say, someone's gone through your life. Might be cause for concern."
"All right. But I'm going to wire my solicitor in the morning."
"Nothing they can do I fear," he said, continuing to read, "if neither you nor Chris are actually named, then they'll say it's just coincidence."
"Coincidence? Rose's son Johnny was witness to his father's death and Charlie saves him from the murderers who were hunting him."
"Shhh!" Ezra admonished, "You are spoiling it."
"We'll look around, Mary, ask some discrete questions."
"Thank you." She stood and the three men stood too, "Please, don't go showing it around."
Ezra grinned, "I give you my word. I'll return the book to you tomorrow."
0000
"She watched him ride out, each of his horse's stride, like hammer to anvil, striking agony to her already trembling heart, waiting, hoping he would turn back to look upon her, show that he did care. Just one look, one final look, that's all she needed.
"But he didn't. Even long after the figure's shadowy slow ride across the plain disappeared, she stood unmoving. Unfeeling to the cold night air, unfeeling to the world around her. Numb. He had been her champion. Even more he'd been her love. With the last rays of light drifting beneath the horizon, Rose continue to weep."
Ezra finished reading aloud the last page, snapped the book shut, "A bit sentimental for my tastes, but not an entirely bad story."
Mary shook her head in disgust and took the book from him, and sat down at the table in Exra's saloon, "It's nonsense. None of that happened."
"Oh, I would assume so. But I do have to give credit where due. This Dorothy, well she's done her research. A lot was, shall we say, embellished, yet everything else-"
"Was dead on. How could she have known I rode into Purgatorio? I didn't tell anyone. Only Chris and Buck knew."
"Or during that wagon-train we went on. How would anyone know Chris watched with 'brooding eyes' while you and your beau danced together in the moonlight?"
"He did not watch with brooding eyes. But I agree. Some of the things in there, they did happen."
"You mean the one where you bravely expressed to the departing Chris," he cleared his throat, "forgive me, the departing Charlie your undying love-?"
"Of course not!"
Ezra held up his hands, "Sorry, but it's not like I'd know that one. Heck, I didn't even known he'd gone until two days later."
"Mr Standish," she sighed and moved to sit down at the chair opposite, "Ezra. It was never like that with Chris. We were friends-"
"Uh, Mary?" Ezra stopped her gently, "Of all many people in this here fair town, I am not one of the simpletons. Please do not mistake me for one."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm saying just because Mr Larabee was blind, doesn't mean the rest of us were."
Mary looked away instead of seeing the knowing look on his face.
"We all saw it. Everyone of us. We all knew. But Chris? Well, I guess he either didn't see it or was too preoccupied."
Mary didn't reply to that. What could she say? It was the truth, and no matter how much she could try to deny it, apparently they already knew how she'd felt about Chris. They'd known for some time. "This book," she finally looked back to Ezra, "could ruin my life."
Ezra stared at her for a moment, "Don't be so sure. Might make it a tad uncomfortable for a while, especially around here. However, my two remaining brothers and I will do all we can to get to the bottom of this."
Mary smiled at him, "I would be in your debt."
"Mrs Travis, how many times must I caution you about saying words like that to a con-man?"
Mary laughed.
"If you don't object, Nathan, JD and I we were thinking we'd like to bring in some help. Purely precautionary, mind."
Swallowing, she asked, "Who?"
"Not Mr Larabee, if that be your worry. No, I'm afraid I ain't heard anything of him in years. Don't even know if he still lives-" Ezra stopped, and looked down with a sigh, "Sorry, Mary."
"I know," she clenched her fists, "I know there's a good chance that is indeed the case; dead, or rotting away on booze in some stinking brothel-"
"The point is we don't know," Ezra broke in gently. "No, we thought we'd bring in Josiah. Rumour has him heading back in this general direction anyway. We thought we'd wire a few towns along the general route, get him to hurry on."
Mary nodded, "I know that it may seem trivial-"
"Nothing trivial about someone snooping around. If someone's stalking ya, we will discover them."
0000
Inez put down the book, "Not bad."
"Not bad?" Mary snorted very unladylike, "It's a load of fanciful rubbish!"
"Bueno, I prefer happy endings but apart from that it's a nice story. Muy romantico."
Mary had given the book to Inez to read, for the pure reason of having another woman understand what was going on.
And of course sympathy, for reading the book had torn open some of Mary's deepest wounds."Inez, I don't know how to ask this, but-"
"Did I tell?" her friend scoffed, completely unoffended, "who would I tell? Perhaps I really should've told señor Larabee. That's who I should've told."
Mary took Inez' hand with a warm, thankful smile. She should've known better than to question her friend. In the last four years, her and Inez had become close friends, confidants in every measure of the word. "I'm sorry. You understand I had to ask. I cannot understand how this could've happened."
"Well, some of it was easy to see. For example, all the time you would stare out the window of the Clarion and watch him from across the street. I saw you myself, so many times. Remember the first time I caught you in the act . . ."
.
"Good morning, Mary!" Inez came bursting through the front door of the Clarion.
Mary jumped back away from the window in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, "Ah, good morning Inez."
Inez looked out through the door glass, "Are you spying on someone?"
"Spying? Of course not. I was, simply, keeping an eye out for Mrs Potter. We are having tea later."
Inez nodded, "She is there," she pointed, "Just there."
"Oh," she felt her face heat up, "Good. Well, I will just catch her later. I have some work to finish first."
Smiling good naturedly, Inez wandered leisurely towards her, "He is looking muy handsome today, no?"
Having pretended to return to her work, Mary looked up feigning ignorance, "I'm sorry, who?"
"The man across the street, señor Larabee; the one you were spying."
"Inez," she almost tripped over her desk, "I assure you, I was not spying on Mr Larabee."
"Yes, true. Of all the many men in this town, I would've chosen younger, not so old."
"Mr Larabee is not old," she counted without thinking.
Inez grinned, "No, you are right. He is handsome and young enough to marry."
Mary looked back down to her papers, "I hadn't thought about it."
"Bueno, if you haven't, then you won't mind if do?"
A snake slithered into her belly, "By all means."
Inez laughed, "Please, Mary, your face makes the sun feel cold. I am teasing."
It had been two months since Inez had come to their little town, and since the incident between Buck Wilmington and Don Paulo, Mary had helped the young woman settle. "Please, I don't have time for teasing today. I am running behind."
"Then perhaps I should go ask señor Larabee to stand somewhere else? So he will not distract you from your work."
"Inez-"
"Oh dios mio, this is not the first time I see you. When will you give up the charade?"
Mary sighed, "Inez, there is no charade; Mr Larabee and I are friends. Nothing more."
"That does not mean you do not wish it."
Looking at the earnest and beautiful, full of life, happy face of her once troubled friend, Mary felt she had to concede. There was just something in the younger woman Mary could not resist against. Almost choking the words, she whispered to herself, "If wishes were fishes we'd all swim in riches."
"Then it's time you bought a rod for the fish!"
Despite her mood, she smiled, "That's not what the rhyme means."
Inez waved that away, and went to the window, "For how long have you done this? Watch him through the window this way?"
She sighed, just how long had it been, "Little over a year." Mary looked up at her friend with a sad smile, "though not always through windows."
"No, no, no," Inez marched back to her desk and sat down beside her, "Why have you let this go on this long."
"Chris is my friend," Mary told her, then smiled, "You know, when he first came to town, I completely misjudged the man. I thought he was the same as any gunslinger who swept through the town. When I realised I'd made a mistake, I tried to apologise and he shot me down."
"For apologising?"
She scoffed at herself, "Well, I think it more how I tried to apologise. The wrong way."
Inez leaned over her desk with her elbow propping her up and grinning, "And yet?"
"And yet," she pursed her lips trying to stop her smiling like a debutant, "no matter how much we disagreed or were at odds with one another back then, I was," she paused, "hooked."
"Like the fishes."
Mary chuckled, "like the fishes . . ."
.
"You know, Ezra told me the same thing yesterday. Even Nathan knew." Mary shook herself, "Was I really so obvious?"
Inez shrugged, "Maybe not to those who don't know you so well." Then she frowned, "Spying through glass is one thing, but what about the home cooked meal competition for the town picnic? How did this author know about that . . .?"
.
"Are you certain, Billy? Doesn't seem at all special."
Billy nodded empathetically, "Chris said so months ago when we're fishing. I was telling him my favourite birthday supper was always-"
"Beef Bourguignon," she supplied automatically.
"Yeah, beef stew with the bacon bits and potato mash. Then Chris said when he was a kid, his mama always made chicken pie."
Mary sighed, "Okay."
"What is wrong?" Inez asked from behind her cooktop, "What is so wrong with chicken pie? And so easy to make lots and lots, enough for everyone at the picnic."
Mary patted Billy on the head and left him to his studies at the dinner table and went to stand beside Inez, "There are so many variations. And I've never made a pie before that wasn't apple."
"We'll do a simple recipe."
"Simple? Is that not a little counterproductive?" Mary's eyes narrowed teasingly, "Or are you just trying to ensure you win the competition?"
Inez grinned, "Ah, some of the simplest things in life can be the hardest to do right. And if we practice, your simple chicken pie will wow the judges and ensure it will only be you and I fighting for the win."
"I don't know, Inez. Maybe this is a bad idea. I should just make shepherd's casserole like I normally do."
"Mary," Inez put down her wooden spoon and faced her, "Was it not last year you say to me how you like to show up Mrs Cunningham. Who, I will remind you said upon winning, 'some women should stick to ink and paper and not to dabble in culinary arts'."
Mary's shoulders clenched, "There is no need to remind me."
"And did you not say you like do something nice for señor Larabee?"
This time her muscles almost shattered her spine, "I did but maybe this is too obvious-"
"Oh, dios mio. How will he ever know if you will not be obvious with him?"
Mary searched her friend's face, "maybe it's best to leave things the way they are."
Inez threw up her hands, "And have you little miss sad face forever? Never! You will trust me, with my help we will put Mrs Cunningham down notches and make your hombre notice you."
"Chris already notices mama," Billy piped up from the table, "he speaks to her all the time."
She pointed to Billy victoriously, "there, you see."
"Handsome Billy, we need him to notice your mama in a new way. And you must help. You must convince señor Larabee to come to the picnic."
Billy sighed, "I already asked him. He said maybe."
"Bueno, you must keep asking." Inez waved her to the table with a steaming pot of tea, "Come, we must discuss recipes."
Taking a seat, she looked to her son with his nose still buried in his school books, "Billy, you know not to talk about this to anyone besides Miss Inez and I?" That was Mary's biggest fear; Billy had a habit of unknowingly revealing secrets. She hoped after the last couple of incidences where he'd accidently let secrets out, he'd learnt his lesson.
"I know, mama," Billy looked up at her with a broad smile, "I won't say nothing. I want Chris to be my pa."
She blanched, "That is exactly the kind of thing you mustn't say, sweetheart."
Billy's smile didn't budge, "I know. I promise I won't say nothing."
One week later and Mary was convinced the gravy for the pies needed extra pepper.
Inez disagreed.
"Billy? What do you think?"
"But mama," moaned, throwing his packed bag over his shoulder, "Chris will be waiting."
"Won't take momentito, niño," said Inez, chasing after him with a spoonful of gravy.
"No," Billy whinged, scooting away from his mother's friend. "I don't wanna."
"Billy," Mary said sternly, although she couldn't really blame him; he'd been the taste-testing-goat for the passed week.
"Billy?"
Inez's eyes lit up and held onto Billy so he couldn't run out of the building, "Come in, señor Larabee. You're just in time."
Mary felt her face warm, and she whispered urgently, "What are you doing? He mustn't see!"
Inez smirked and shook her head, "Trust me."
Chris walked into the kitchen, "Billy you ready?" He looked at both of the women, "Just in time for?"
"Ah, we are in crisis!" Inez swept forward, holding out a fresh spoonful of gravy, "we are in disagreement. Please, you must taste this."
Chris calculating eyes watched both of them warily, "What's this for?"
"The picnic tomorrow? You are coming, no?"
"Maybe," he said noncommittally.
"Good, now you must taste this? Es muy importante."
Chris eyed the spoon, "Why?"
"It's nothing-" Mary started.
"No, no, is not nothing. Last year Mrs Cunningham made big fuss so this year we are having vengeance."
He looked at her questioning, "vengeance?"
"Maybe just a little culinary war," Mary smiled.
Inez smiled too, "Si, señor. We have been preparing all week! Either Mary or I must win the competition and put Mrs Cunningham back to her place." She waved to the spoon, "So please?"
He frowned, "I don't know much about cookin'."
"But you have tongue, no? I make you a deal. You taste, I ask question, you answer yes or no."
He almost smiled, his eyes once again looking at her, "Alright."
Inez waited a moment for him to taste, "You have good taste. Hold memory of it. So, do you like?"
"Yes," Chris answered.
Mary couldn't contain her smile.
Inez waved at him, "Good, good. Most important, do you think more pepper is needed?"
His head shook marginally, "No."
"Ah perfecto! Thank you, señor Larabee," Inez tapped Mary's arm, "You see? I tell you so."
Giving a good natured laugh, she gestured towards Billy, "Billy has been ready since sunup. He says you're going somewhere special today?"
"Dunno 'bout special but we're gonna be picking out couple new horses at the stockyards."
"Perhaps he's dreaming about his own horse one day?"
Chris shrugged, "at his age? It'd be a pony."
.
The day of the picnic turned out to be a beautiful spring day.
"Never in my life have I tasted a better chicken pie, Mrs Travis!"
Mary smiled in gratitude, "Thank you, JD."
"I sure hope you'll have some left over later?"
"Well," Mary tried not to look around into the crowd with obvious hope, "We'll have to see. There needs to be some for the judges to try after-all."
"If there is some left though-"
"Don't be a glutton, JD," Nathan nudged the younger man along, "really excellent pie, Mary."
"Thank you, Nathan."
Nathan smiled and went to move along in the line.
"Ah, Nathan," she tried to speak casually, "There seems to be some people missing. I would have expected to see the others here too."
"You mean Chris and the others?" JD pushed back into Nathan trying to grab another slice, "last I saw, they was still in the saloon. Probably on their second bottle each by now."
"Oh," she tried to stop herself from sounding as crushed as she felt, "I guess I just thought they might have come today. Many people consider them townspeople now."
Nathan caught her eye and said gently, "They probably had something just needed doing. I didn't see Chris in the saloon when I went passed."
"I'm sure," Mary swallowed against the swell in her throat and put on her best smile, "would you like another slice Nathan?"
"Thank you, ma'am, I would."
When Nathan and JD had moved on to the next stall, she looked to the stall beside hers.
Inez stopped serving to send her a sympathetic look and a supportive smile. Beside her, Billy took her hand, "I'm sorry, mama. I reminded him like you said."
Mary took a long breath before facing the disappointed face of her son, "It's alright, sweetheart. We cannot expect Mr Larabee to be around all the time, now can we?"
In the end Inez took first prize, Mary second, and a scandalised Mrs Cunningham took third.
Mary's smile remained on her face as was expected of her, but her vengeance over Mrs Cunningham did little to lift the hollow disappointment hovering around in her heart . . .
.
"Besides us two and Billy, no-one could've heard our conversations in the kitchen."
"Unless someone was spying?"
A loud knock came from the front door, "Mrs Travis. Telegram."
"Who could it be from?"
Mary shuffled her way through her office towards the front door, "I wired Oren. I wanted his opinion on getting the publishers to pull the book off the shelves."
Mary had no idea how much of an impact the emergence of a simple dime-shelf book would come to affect her life.
