Hey, ya'll! Long time no see (not your fault of course). I'm in college but have actually found time to update! So special thanks to orangehotchocolate (that sounds sooo good right now!) who was insistent enough to remind me that I had a story to update!

Also, thank you to Thai Libre, Pimpernell Princess, Lady Moonglow, sumrandom girl XD, daring2dream, bellathedisenchanted, falchion, x- Lakota -x, and raykoRavenclaw for reviewing! I hope ya'll haven't given hope up yet. I really do want to finish this story to the bitter end! Not that the end will be bitter....:)

Happy reading!

Chapter 14: One Job to Another

I kept my promise to Marley and fed those miserable birds, even though I didn't even need the money. I considered quitting after he gave me another unsatisfactory pay of ten pennies, but kept putting the thought off. I had grown accustomed to leaving the house in the mornings and evenings to gather eggs and throw feed. I had to go armed because the rooster grew hostile daily and even went so far as to trot up to me, as if he wanted to peck at me. I was so startled I only managed to swing the bucket at him. After that I always entered with a stick and made sure he knew I was quite capable of clobbering him.

Finally, on the morn before Aspen's birthday, my dam of patience broke. Fred said he needed to talk to Marley so I graciously allowed him to walk with me, even though I knew he wanted to see how I was getting along with the fowls. I actually wanted him to see that I was very proficient in making sure the birds, however disgusting, were surviving. Why, I wanted this I couldn't say for sure. Perhaps a part of me wanted to demonstrate that I could work, and that I could work well. Also, I had a notion that Fred thought I was a frail good for nothing princess who couldn't do much. I wanted to prove him wrong.

Marley was sitting on his porch, so while I ducked into the pen with my weapon, Fred watched out of the corner of my eye. This morning, the rooster decided the stick was of no consequence and flew at me, wings flapping. I skillfully brought the rod down on his head. He backed off, but only to come at me again. Nasty brute! I hit him harder.

He retreated. I threw the grain, hoping it would distract his attention like other days. But he stood, regarding me maliciously. I decided he was just pouting about his defeat and turned to go into the house. But the vicious bird jumped up again. I couldn't help giving a little shriek as I whirled around to whack him.

"Back you hateful thing!" I cried. My fury mounted when I heard chuckling. They were both chuckling! The heartless men were laughing at my predicament! I turned toward them. "Curse you! How would you like—"

"Ruth, the—!"

I screamed again. The rooster had managed to clamp his wicked beak onto the back of my skirt while my anger had been directed elsewhere. His wings flapped hard, and I swore I felt his claws on the back of my legs. I spun around so fast, the beast flew into the fencing of the pen. But that didn't shake it off, and I resorted to bashing the monster in an awkward position. I finally gave him a hard enough blow that made him stagger away again. I was so furious I nearly felt tears well up, but thankfully tears do not accompany my livid moods.

Fred was at the door, concern was in his eyes, but the smile from his laughter was still on his wretched face.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Are you blind?" I barked. "The wicked brute has surely drawn blood!" I wanted to kick the bird for good measure, but he was stalking away, triumphant and smirking.

"I'll get the eggs," offered Fred, and reached for the bucket.

I didn't give it to him. "If you hadn't been laughing I could have stopped him before he so uncouthly struck! You most certainly will get the eggs, and I swear their miserable master will have to find someone else to get them from now on."

I shoved the pail into his hands and marched out the door. Fred forgot about the eggs and hurried after me.

"Ah, come on, princess—"

"I quit," I told Marley.

He was too busy trying to retain a straight face to be surprised.

I continued toward the road while Fred trotted by my side. "You can't let one little incident like that deter you from—"

I swung on him. "That was not one little incident. That was an attempt on my life!"

He pulled in his chin. "That? Oh, come on, you don't really think that old bird could have killed you, do you?"

"That was certainly his intention and it can certainly be classified as such. If this was Luzcando, I'd have him throttled immediately."

"Marley will probably put him in the stew pot now, since there's a new younger rooster."

"He doesn't deserve to be eaten," I snapped and continued tramping down the road. Fred still tried to soothe me, but I would have none of it. I was glad the boarding house was so near, but annoyed that Fred was nearer and still persistent.

"At least let me see if he drew blood," he said as I pushed into the house. I hesitated. My initial boiling rage and cooled to a sizzling point, and I decided to look at the damage. I sat down on a chair and drew up my skirt to examine my calves. Madam Catalin would have been shocked at the lack of decorum, but I didn't care.

The sizzling dropped to simmering.

"There, that isn't so bad." Fred's voice was cheerful and comforting. "But if it'll make you feel any better, I'll put something on it." There were only scratches, which had hardly scraped off the skin. There was a crease in the skirt, but other than that, no harm done. I gritted my teeth.

"I'm still not going back. I was planning to quit anyway. I don't need to work anymore. I don't need the money."

His caring doctor facade was instantly dropped. "You still have to pay off that silk," he murmured, since Aspen was just upstairs. "It cost much more than ten pennies and those eggs."

"So!" I huffed. "The man gave it to me. I need not give him more."

But he folded his arms and actually had the nerve to glare at me. I was surprised. Fred never glared at anyone, especially me. Why was this so important to him? I had given the man nearly all I owned in this measly town and my own special thanks and sincere smile. That was enough.

"I thought you were feeling guilty for what you did to him," said Fred, in a suspicious tone, his glare not lessening.

I almost squirmed. "That was at the moment. I decided my guilt had no basis, and dismissed it. I did nothing wrong."

"You deceived him," he retorted pointedly.

I stiffened. That was true, but I could not relent myself to his argument. I would not! Pursing my lips and giving him a glower of my own, I hissed, "I will not go back and repay him. I absolutely refuse to do so."

We stared defiantly at one another for a moment before his expression relaxed and he gave a shrug as if it were no big deal. Good; he was giving up. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, and triumph, when he said, "You do not have to go back, but the money must be paid. I will give it to him, if you prefer anonymity."

I let out a growl of exasperation. "Why are you so intent on this? It is just a bit of silk obtained from a little flirtation, a little tear, and some well earned eggs."

He smiled, and looked like an understanding father trying to teach his child some life principle. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had patted my cheek reassuringly. "I know it doesn't seem like much, but I feel very sorry for the merchant. Although he did get a smile from you, which is a blessing enough, his life depends on the income he receives from selling his silk sensibly. He is not the owner of the shop so he gets very little from the grand total. His wife is with child, and he needs all the money he can get. If we were to cheat him of just a little bit of it, it would not be fair to him. I might've let it go if it was just the money, but you did this when he was in a befuddled state. That was hardly reasonable. Once he regained his wits, I'm sure he regretted succumbing to your feminine charms."

I stared at him in mild disbelief and confusion. Was it my imagination, or did he sprinkle a couple of compliments in there? Did he truly think my smile to be a blessing? I detected no sarcasm, but it was so unlike Fred to say such things to me that I nearly disregarded it. I suddenly frowned. I would not be drawn into his trap. He was still trying to make me feel guilty, and I would not yield.

"So?" I asked with a disdain shrug. "What is it to me?"

Fred stared at me in true puzzlement and incredulity. He let out a groan of frustration and again ran his hand through his hair as if he were at a loss. "You really don't get it, do you?" he asked exasperatingly.

I rolled my eyes, pleased with myself. I did not feel guilt, only triumph. "There is nothing to "get", Sir Fred. Your explanations have only convinced me that that simple merchant is an immense fool. If I do feel sorry, I feel sorry for his unborn child and his future. I'm not the only manipulating female out there. He's going to have to learn to keep his wits."

As soon as the words left my lips I somehow felt dirty. Was that what I was? A manipulating female? That certainly didn't paint a pretty picture, but . . . I suppose it could be used to describe me. I frowned. I didn't like it.

Fred raised a brow in surprise. "You consider yourself to be a manipulating female?" He nodded slowly. "That's a good way to describe it."

I flushed angrily. "We are not having this conversation!" I snapped as I jumped to my feet. I turned to go, but suddenly Jess' voice called me back. I hesitated. I hadn't realized he had been listening the whole time. He stood, his figure filling the door frame.

"Ruth," he called; his smile mischievous and excited. I immediately grew suspicious. What was he up to? I had learned that Lawrence's father was just a big boy who loved to come up with schemes to either get more money, or tease others. I had become his particular object, and he never ceased to compliment, tease, mock, or joke with me. At first I was furious when he commented on my small hands, but his laugh was so contagious, that I realized he was only teasing. I learned to ignore his jibes or simply retort back.

"You have a sharp tongue," he said, and it wasn't a reprimand. He was the only one, besides Fred, who seemed to appreciate my words. Marta dismissed them like flies, Gwen ignored them, and I was careful not to snap too much around Aspen.

He continued. "I think I could use your skills of arguing. Why don't you come to work with me?"

My brows furrowed. "Eh? You want me to work for you?" I knew Jess had taken time to work at a pottery stand Lawrence had started. The business was on the verge of failing since the owner was coughing up blood upstairs, so Jess had stepped in and revived it. He was gone all day, and usually came home complaining about picky costumers and hot suns.

"Aye, that's right." He nudged Fred in the arm and told him, "She could bring in a lot of costumers with her pretty face and convincing words."

Fred rolled his eyes. "You want to use her?"

I frowned. I didn't like that.

"No, I want her to help me. Come, now Fred. You've got to think of what will bring in the most income, and I say she will. Just look at her!" He waved a hand in my direction with an excited grin. "Who can refuse her? With her by my side I can sell all of Lawrence's pottery in a week! I might even be able to raise the prices."

Fred and I both looked dubious. I was actually surprised. I would think Fred would be the first to agree that I should be put to work. He was probably hesitating because I'd be manipulating people again. I frowned. Would I be though? If I did go with Jess to help him—I was not saying I would—would just sitting there being pretty be using people? No, not really. It would be as if I were a colorful sign to attract people's attention. I did not like that idea. Apparently Fred didn't either because he shook his head firmly.

"She isn't a tool, Jess," he said.

I nearly cocked my head in surprise. Was he trying to be nice? Well, it was Fred...

Jess disagreed. "I know. She's a help. You wouldn't be unhappy if I took Aspen with me. She's a cute girl, and I have taken her on occasion, but she has work here. Ruth has spare time on her hands, she could help." He suddenly became teasing. "I know you want to keep her for yourself, Fred, but you've got to share the princess."

Again I was taken aback when Fred's cheeks actually tinted pink. Fred never blushed. This moment was too priceless; I wanted to laugh. But I still didn't like the idea of "helping" Jess. I still thought I was being used. Humph. Was this what the merchant felt after I left, that he had been used? I couldn't think about that. I had decided I wouldn't feel guilty!

Fred glanced at me then threw up his hands in exasperation, "Fine! Have it your way." He seemed very perturbed as he stalked out of the room. I almost felt sorry for him, but I was too smug over the fact that he had blushed, and lost an argument.

Jess' grin was wide and victorious as he faced me. I met it with a stubborn stance, and accusing gaze. "I am not Fred's ward," I told him coldly. "I do not see why you must ask him whether I can work or not. I decide that."

I saw Fred linger near the doorway, obviously curious to my answer. Jess laughed. I didn't appreciate that. I wanted to be taken seriously.

"You fiery lass!" he chuckled. "You must be the most independent maiden I've ever met. You'd insist on slaying your own dragons if need be. But you contradict yourself sometimes. You wish others to do everything for you, yet have an intense stand on making your own decisions and own way." He shook his head as if in wonder.

I didn't know whether to take this as a compliment or insult. I was not finicky, but I liked being independent. Yes, I didn't want to depend on others, especially when it came to my future.

"But I wonder," continued Jess as if forgetting about my working with him, "Do you feel the need to have others depend on you?"

I pulled my chin in from surprise. "What? No. I think not. Let others take care of themselves. I care not for them."

Jess nodded in understanding as if he were expecting that answer. "Aye, I see. Well! I will try to make this opportunity seem like an advantage to you. For one thing, your hands will be busy, and I know how much you dislike laziness. You will be paid, so that makes you even more independent. I don't know what you would want with money, but it's usually nice to have. And thirdly, you will not have to stand the presence of this annoying odd man."

"Hey!" growled Fred, his scowl visible.

I actually smiled. "Well, when you put it that way, I can't think of an excuse. Very well; I will assist you."

Jess swept into a bow. "I thank thee, milady."

"On one condition," I added. "Do not call me milady or any other form of nobility. I do not want others to know I have debased myself to be working along side a menial laborer selling pottery."

"Why is Fred mad?" I asked Jess as I gripped the edges of the cart. He had insisted we start at once and we set off for the market place with the cartload of pottery.

Jess kept his eyes on the team of horses as he guided them toward the middle of the town. "Fred feels a great responsibility over you," he replied. "The way I understand, your father placed you under his protection, and he is determined to keep you safe."

"And what danger would I encounter at the market place?"

Jess grinned. "Why other men of course."

I blushed hotly and pursed my lips.

"Fred knows what your beauty can get you into, and he doesn't like taking chances like that. I know you don't realize it, but Fred has fended off more than one interested gentleman. And I purposefully used the understatement of 'interested.'"

I remembered our trip to the market place and how Fred had glared at all those men who had dared to even look at me. At the time I had felt both indignation and amusement, but later had thought nothing of it. I squinted my eyes at Jess to see what I could get out of his face. But his expression was furrowed patience as he guided the horses through the thick crowd of people lumbering to the market that day.

Finally I asked, "Why does he even care?"

Jess seemed surprised that I would ask such a question. "Milady . . . er . . . my dear Miss Ruth, you must know that Fred is a man of honor. He would never allow harm to befall any female no matter their rank, age, or situation."

"Humph," I replied, frowning. I highly doubted that as I recalled his happy grin at seeing me in that loathsome hen house.

"Would you rather he didn't care?" wondered Jess, that teasing light starting to break forth in his eyes.

"I would rather you didn't ask," I snapped. Still, I reflected my response in my head. Truth be told, I did not have one. Why was this happening more and more often? I used to always be able to come up with answers to any question, particularly about my feelings. But not anymore. I scowled to myself trying to think of a suitable answer.

Did I want Fred not to care? No, I did not. Garret was a man who did not care, hence he stole me away. Fred had not kidnapped me, but he had blackmailed me which was just as bad. But he did not keep me in a dirty tent and propose to me every five minutes. As much as I abhorred to admit, the fool kept very good care of me, despite his obnoxious teasing and his determination to make me labor.

"Would you like to help me set out the pottery?" asked Jess and I realized he had stopped the cart between two other stalls.

I raised my brow at him in incredulity. Was he really so stupid as to think that I'd use my hands and bend my back to lay out bowls and plates? I answered him disdainfully, "I will do no such thing."

"Begging your pardon, miss," replied Jess, "But I ask you to reconsider." I didn't like the smile on his face; it said he had the upper hand. "People will wonder at you if you sit up there like a mighty lady of some sort. They'll begin to suspect that you are not of common blood no matter how fervently I call you 'miss.'"

I flushed. I absolutely hated it when these peasants had a point which couldn't be denied. Grudgingly I slipped down from the wagon and made my way over to the end of the cart. Jess gave me an encouraging grin and handed me a large, scratchy blanket.

"Lay it out over by the street's edge."

Keeping my expression revolted and my actions slow, I did as he requested. The market was bustling, but had not reached its frenzied pitch, yet. I knew that by the afternoon I'd have a headache from all the noise of complaining costumers, persuading merchants, wandering artisans, and mischievous children. Why was I here again?

Instead of going back to the cart to carry armloads of the product, I sat on the blanket and stared into the small sea of people as they mingled carelessly. They were in no hurry, and the businessmen were only slightly persistent. Brinak, the town, was larger than I had first suspected, and, because of its location near the border, often attracted many strange travelers and merchants. I recognized many who could easily be Luzcandian, and even guessed the jewelry seller was of Froc.

We are not much different, the countries of Froc, Durant, and Luzcando, but we do have certain characteristics that can set us apart. Those of Froc are generally petite, almost elfish, and each skilled in some artisans trade that make them very rich as they sell their wares all over the world. They generally have darker complexions, with curled eyes, and straight silky hair. They are neither beautiful nor hideous, but a true blooded one is always a curious sight.

We Luzcandians are somewhat similar to them, with our slender small statures, olive skin and dark hair. However, we are far more beautiful with thick curls, brilliant eye colors, and graceful movements. We also tend to have quicker tempers than the docile Frocs, which doesn't allow patience in advanced artwork. Of course I exhibited all the qualities of a true Luzcandian being a pure blood.

Those of Durant were a mixture of every kind of person in the world. They had no set standard of appearance, and it was common to see red heads, brunettes, dwarves, giants, fats, slims, talented, dumb, beautiful, and ugly among the mass. The only way to guess was their accent which was predisposed to bring out the words in a sort of drawl that reflected a lazy or easy going type of person. Of course in all these cases of Frocs, Luzcandians, and Durans I meant only the majority, since there are always exceptions.

Jess shook me out of my reverie when he nudged me and said, "You can't sit there like a statue. You've got to smile and wave your arms about declaring how wonderful this pottery is."

I threw him a contemptuous glance. "I will do no such thing."

He sighed heavily. "I thought so. At least stand up and smile. You have to smile."

"I don't have to smile."

"Now, now, missie you don't need to be so stubborn. You look far more beautiful when you smile."

"There's nothing to smile about."

"Crikies, princess, ain't you ever smiled just for the heck of it? Just 'cause life is good?"

I only had to think briefly. "No. And currently life isn't good."

"Well sure it is. Just think. You could still be in the clutches of that Lord Garrett fellow who stole you away. You could be married to him. Or you could be walking around doing nothing. But now, now you're safe among friends and about to do something you've never done before and get paid for it. That's pretty good. You're safe and the weather is nice, why shouldn't life be good?"

I could think of a lot of ways to retort, but surprisingly decided not to. What good would it do any way? These peasants wouldn't understand. They were too optimistic. Grudgingly I gave him a half hearted smile.

"Uh . . . you'll have to work on that one, prin—"

"Jess!"

"Pretty miss," he corrected himself quickly. "Now you are a poor country lass working here to gain some meager earnings to take home to your suffering family."

"I thought we wouldn't lie."

"Right."

"I'm a visitor from Luzcando come to help you in this enterprise for our sick friend."

Jess grinned broadly. "Fine! Fine! Well done. I'm so glad to see that you have become friends with my son." His brows waggled knowingly. I stared at him stoically. Surely he was not implying . . . "But I have to warn you, Gwen already has dibs on him. But if you really—"

I actually whacked him on the arm. "Jess!" I squawked.

He pretended to cower under my strike as he laughed uproariously. I had smile partly in relief that it was just a joke, and partly because one could hardly frown when Jess was laughing.

"Excuse me."

We both looked up promptly into the smiling face of an old woman. She was bent over with age, but her eyes were alight and her smile brighter. She had a basket on her arm and was looking at me with her clear blue eyes.

"You remind me of when I was younger," she crooned to me. "You seem too pretty to be working here. You ought to be in a splendid castle as a princess."

I gave Jess an I-told-you-I-look-too-royal-for-this-filthy-job look, but he didn't seem to notice. Placing a fatherly like hand on my shoulder he declared, "She is beautiful, madam. But she has a heart of gold and helps my old bones to sell this pottery and take the meager funds home to a sick friend."

"Oh, you are such a dear."

I was afraid she would pinch my cheeks or something so I backed up a step and gave her my attempt at a smile. Jess looked like he wanted me to say something so I said, "Yes, though I dream of castles and silk, I work here to help my sick...friend."

As if Lawrence was a friend.

The old woman fussed over me again and bought pottery. Jess was as joyful as a lark. I'd like to go into detail with every customer that came our way, but I can not. I do not remember them. I only know the inner feelings I wrestled with throughout the rest of the day. Yes, I wrestled for several hours as each individual came up. My natural impulse was to toss my head and scorn their even idea of considering they could converse with me. But the fact I was supposed to be a peasant girl made me smile, answer questions and accept all compliments and comments. It was a strange and awful feeling. Sometimes I nearly blew up and threw a dish at an exceptionally obnoxious costumer or slapped a sickening flirtatious smile off another absurd potential buyer.

But I didn't. I was both pleased with myself and horrified. What was happening to me? Why didn't I? Why did I not desire to create a scene and make sure my desires and personal space was respected? I wasn't completely tolerant. Oh, no. I didn't wave my hands around and was usually sitting down, despite Jess' request. When several men tried to lean in for an attempted opportunity I immediately dropped the friendly seller façade and scowled so fiercely they quickly got the message and backed away. Jess didn't object. I was also able to insert subtle slights to the ruder house wives which, when caught, were not well received and we hopefully would never see them again.

We were one of the last to leave the square and I absolutely refused to assist in piling everything back in. I was so exhausted I wanted to sleep. I wanted to curl up in a remote, obscure corner and fall into a sleep where nothing could penetrate my mind but meaningless dreams and darkness. I sat in the wagon and tried very hard not to think. When Jess climbed up next to me he was smiling broadly, but he was always smiling broadly so this didn't tell me anything.

"You done good, Princess," he exclaimed.

"I've done well," I corrected.

"Right. You done well."

I shook my head and mentally gave up. I really was tired. I faced the road, not really seeing it and let my brain go blank. Thankfully my mind remained clear for the rest of trip. Even when we reached home and a pacing Fred assaulted us with questions, I did not answer in any way. Jess just laughed and talked about future profit and success. Fred looked at me, wanting to know what I thought. I went to bed. I think Jess and Fred argued into the night.