Well, here comes the next chapter. Just a heads up, I'm trying to finish the semester (just 2 weeks of college left!), so I have tons of papers to finish for my classes, and I probably won't be able to write on this story for a little bit until I graduate, get home, and get settled back in. But always know that once I start a story I finish it, at least once I put it on fanfic, so keep your eyes peeled! This chapter should hold you until the next one. :) Don't forget to REVIEW!


Chapter 9

Avonlea placed a third clip in her hair and examined it in the mirror to insure there were no loose strands escaping her elaborate bun, and after deeming it acceptable she proceeded down the length of her body. Her pretty lavender dress dipped slightly below her shoulders and clung to her upper arms, revealing her creamy white skin as it shone under the soft light of the lamp on her vanity. She didn't much care how she looked for Clyde as long as she was presentable, but Little Joe would be at the party too, and she did care how she looked for his sake. Her heart beat with anticipation of seeing him in a suit and tie, his hair finely combed and his bronze skin glowing with the freshness of a recent bath. She blushed as she wondered just how he would smell that night, thinking she might be going too far with her daydream but being unable to stop it nonetheless.

A knock on the door shook her out of her reverie and as she emerged from her room, her eyes met the clear blue ones of Clyde Johnson standing in the kitchen, exchanging greetings with her grandfather. When he saw her, the miner removed his hat, revealing a shock of shiny blonde hair.

"Ya look purdy as a picture, Miss Summers."

Avonlea smiled slightly and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson."

"Just Clyde, Ma'am," he corrected.

"Just Avonlea, Clyde," she retorted with a smirk, drawing closer to him.

He offered her his arm. "Ya ready?"

She accepted it, trying to hide her reluctance behind a large smile, and walked out the door, her grandfather waving after them.


The Cartwright clan was already there when she and Clyde arrived, though in the overwhelming jumble of faces that turned in unison as she entered on the man's arm, she didn't notice them until well after her first moments in the judge's house had passed. Standing by the punch bowl next to his brother, Hoss nudged Little Joe as he was in the process of ladling himself out a glass of the magenta liquid. It nearly spilled out onto his white shirt.

"Careful, Hoss." Joe turned to his brother in annoyance.

Hoss ignored his remonstrance completely, nodding toward the door instead. "Look a there, Joe."

Joe did a double take, stopping his cup on its way to his mouth. He stood there for only a moment, trying not to gape in his current surroundings, but being incapable of refusing at least one fleeting moment to take in the woman's elegance. Her dress hung delicately in all the right places, accentuating her lovely curves, and the color she had chosen complemented her pretty red locks, clipped up fashionably in one of her buns. He still preferred to see her hair flowing caressingly about her profile, constricted by nothing save a simple ribbon tied in a small bow to keep the wilder strands out of her face, but piling it on top of her head drew his attention to her rouged cheeks, glowing in strawberry-tinted hues under the bright lights within the judge's house. Her lips were a deeper red than he had observed on their previous encounters, painted with an extra coat just for the occasion.

Hoss eyed Adam, a few feet away, and the brothers smirked good-naturedly at the extent to which their youngest brother was smitten by the exotic creature in the doorway. They both had to admit that she was a very attractive woman – tender and sweet to boot – and that Little Joe seemed, for once, to be in over his head. Any woman who could turn his head as much as she had was quite deserving of their respect, and, though they expected her to surrender eventually as nearly every woman did, they were enjoying watching the relationship play out right in front of them. The way she would draw closer, as if he were about to reel her in, and then swam away again made them snicker behind his back. It was about time Little Joe got a taste of his own medicine before she succumbed to his spell. They knew that she would, for try as she might to hide it, both of the men could see her affection for their brother. In fact, the only person who couldn't seem to decipher her feelings was Joe himself.

From the other side of the room, Avonlea finally spied the young cowboy and fixed her eyes upon him for the span of one lingering glance. He looked just as handsome as she had imagined with a thin black tie securing the collar of his white shirt comfortably about his neck. There wasn't a wrinkle in his gray slacks, and it appeared that he had spent nearly as much time on his own hair as she had on hers. She smiled from across the room at the man, the color rising to her cheeks, though it was hardly detectable underneath all her rouge; however, if you looked close enough, you could see her earlobes reddening.

After being introduced to several of the more prominent citizens of Virginia City – namely Judge Miller, Sherriff Coffee, and his deputy Clem Foster – Clyde helped Avonlea out of her wrap and went to hang it up on the rack several feet away while she made her way to the punch bowl.

"Mr. Cartwright," she said as she approached, holding out her hand to Ben.

"Avonlea, you look lovely," Ben replied with a benevolent smile, his eyes twinkling with a sense of pride.

"Thank you."

"I don't see Bill with you tonight."

"He wasn't feeling quite up to it."

"Hope he's not gettin' sick."

"Oh, no, he just needed a night to himself, I think."

Ben chuckled.

"I see you came with Clyde Johnson," Adam said, nodding toward the figure of the miner who was making his way toward the group.

Joe's features formed a glower in his brother's direction. Why did he have to bring that up?

"Well, he asked me," she replied with a flippant shrug.

"Howdy, Mr. Cartwright." Clyde was now by her side and shaking hands with the head of the family, making his way down the line until he reached Joe, upon whom his features hardened ever so slightly as he nodded and briefly uttered the man's name in greeting.

"Clyde," Joe returned, "how are ya?"

"Doin' jus' fine, Cartwright."

"How's the mining business treatin' ya?" Adam asked.

"Ain't hit a big vein yet, but it's there; we jus' gotta get to it."

After a slew of pleasantries, Clyde poured Avonlea a glass of punch and then led her out onto the floor to dance. His steps were awkward and lumbering, as if this were the first time he had danced with a partner whose elegance exceeded his own. Avonlea felt as if she were being dragged along rather than flying about the dance floor as she had desired. She had found, on other occasions, that trying to take in the environment around her while whirling about the floor made her quite nauseous, but in this case she was somewhat thankful for her partner's slow pace, for if she had had to stare into Clyde's eyes throughout the entirety of every dance it would have darkened her mood. His blue eyes, so transparent, made her feel as if she were looking into nothingness, whereas Joe's eyes, soft and dark, impressed upon her a feeling of tantalizing mystery. As it happened, her heart was still holding out for the dance she had promised him and secretly hoping that it might extend to two or three.

Just as she as about to begin her tenth dance, Avonlea saw Joe approaching the couple.

"Can I cut in?" he asked with a good-natured grin, extending his hand to Avonlea.

Clyde eyed the two cautiously before consenting wordlessly.

"I was afraid you wouldn't save that dance for me," Joe teased.

"I promised I would."

"Well, I thought you might enjoy the change after dancing nine songs with the same partner."

She smiled gratefully. "Variety is the spice of life."

The room around them became a warm haze as they fell into a silent waltz, drinking in the intoxicating nearness of each other's presences. He held her hand and she felt his rough skin, which had been recently softened by a creamy lotion hours before, caressing her own, so delicate and cool. Unlike with Clyde, her brown eyes remained fixed on his, though her cheeks burned. Her stomach settled from its dizzying experience with the miner to the point where she hardly felt her legs moving at all. All she knew was that she was staring into his eyes, and he was staring back into hers. They were so overwhelmingly amorous that by the end of the dance she felt quite flushed and was beginning to shake under the strain of her leaping heart.

"I think I need a breath of fresh air," she giggled.

Little Joe smirked and glanced over his shoulder at Clyde Johnson locked in a conversation with Clem Foster then led her out the front door and into the peaceful night. "It's not as stuffy out here," he said.

Avonlea took a deep, satisfying breath of the mild air and, spotting the porch swing in the corner, took a seat.

"Tired?" Joe asked, looking down at her.

"My legs are about worn out," she chuckled in response.

"I know what ya mean. Pa nearly has to drag me out a bed the mornin' after a big party."

Avonlea smiled gently and looked out upon the country that seemed to be shrouded in a soft, warm, dark blanket as the night sky, which had traded in its bright azure for a rich navy, swooped down to touch the earth with its serenity.

Joe drew closer and finally sat down beside her, almost afraid that she would pull away, but she didn't; in fact, she hardly seemed to notice him at all, so caught up in the spell of the night air.

"Beautiful night, huh?"

"I love the nights here. The sky isn't blocked by the trees. It makes you feel so small, ya know, like you could get lost in it if only you could touch it."

"Well, there's a first. I don't know many people who like gettin' lost."

She turned to him then with a sweet smirk, but it began to evaporate as she looked into his eyes once again. They were like the night sky – so vast and so comforting and so indescribably alluring. She couldn't look away, and merely stammered, "You don't, Joe?"

His arm was around her shoulders, resting against the back of swing; his face was moving closer to hers. Her breath was caught in the back of the throat; she felt as if her heart was rattling her entire form and would very soon shatter her ribcage.

"I don't know anyone like you, Avonlea," he said softly, and she felt his warm breath against her face.

"Joe." Her protest was weak, and she knew her eyes and the condition of her body were betraying her. There was nothing she wanted more in that moment then to feel his lips smothering hers. He lingered only a moment and then touched them. A flood of relief washed over her senses as she finally let go, but, only a second later, they were parting. She leaned in and kissed him back, and Joe's happiness, already filled to the brim upon succeeding to kiss her, now overflowed. He took her in his arms and kissed her gently, afraid that he might startle her if he unleashed all of his passion at once. But she didn't pull away; she continued to kiss him and placed her left hand upon his white shirt, feeling the muscles underneath. She could feel herself falling, and promised herself that all she needed was this moment to get it out of her system, but for now she would kiss him and let him kiss her.