Disclaimer I own very little, especially not CSI NY.

Author Lily Moonlight

Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter :) Many thanks to Ballettmaus for her help with this, to afrozenheart412 for her thoughts on the extra scenes, similarly to cmaddict, LostInNewYork and DNAisUnique and everyone who mentioned it in their reviews :) Thanks to those who have given me pokes to update - much appreciated. Special thanks to Blue Shadowdancer for the fingerless gloves that have allowed me to write this chapter despite my freezing cottage :D Also thanks to iluvcsi4ever for discussion about the real Old West!

Once Upon A Time in the Old West

Chapter 29: Sunrise in the West

Martha:

Goodness, it feels like I've barely been asleep before I wake to find dawn peeping in through the windows all pearly-like and shining. It almost seems as if the morning itself is giving us a fresh new start.

I must admit, I did not have the most peaceful night, which is not a matter of surprise. But at least I did manage to rest for a few hours: after all their sorrows, I do wonder if poor Miss Stella and Mr Taylor were able to find any sleep at all. I can only hope so.

After my eyes have opened, I take a moment to gather my thoughts, staying nestled against my dear husband who's still fast asleep. For sure, it won't do no harm to let him rest. The lamp we left lit last night still burns, giving me enough light to see the clock which tells me that it's only a very few minutes after seven o'clock. So it can be with a clear conscience that I allow myself to spend a little more time in bed, readying myself for the coming day.

Dear me, but yesterday was a long and difficult day for us all. As my dearest Sidney said last night, may we never have to suffer a day like that again in Hattanville.

I shan't forget how he came trailing in to the bedroom last night, barely able to lift his feet up, looking more tired than I've ever seen him. Bless him, he was surprised to see me still awake but I told him I wouldn't even have dreamed of not waiting up for him; that he was my dear, brave husband and he ought to be proud of himself as I kissed his poor wounded head. Oh, to think that he tackled one of those wicked, wicked men himself, suffering a scrape to his forehead for his pains!

Of course, he tried to play down his role in things, telling me that he was not so brave and that he only did what any man would have done, maybe even a little less. When he went on to say that I was uppermost in his mind, and that had they tried to hurt me they would have been stepping over his... Well, I cannot finish what he was about to say even now. His handkerchief is to hand on my bedside table and I give my nose a blow and scrub at my eyes with it, determined not to let myself get any more upset - there were enough tears shed in this house last night.

I've soon got them under control; anger wins out again. Those heartless men, causing so much suffering and hurt to innocent people! It still gives me a hot sort of anger inside at the thought of everything they've done. Why, had I only been given the chance I'd have happily laid my fists on that Billy Baines...

But the memory of Sidney taking hold of my hand, smoothing it out and smiling gently at me brings me calm again. Though I'm still upset and angry at everything that's happened, most of all I'm thankful that we're all safe and alive, and I'm especially thankful our daughters are safely out of town.

Terrible it was imagining them in the danger that we faced today. Both Sidney and I can well take care of ourselves; we're old and wise enough for that, but had our girls been in the saloon...

I have to reach for the handkerchief again, overcome for a moment until I tell myself firmly that they are safe and happy, far from harm. There's no need for them to be told of all this until they're home, we shan't go worrying them by telling them what happened when we next write. Both of us agreed that last night.

It was shortly after that, that he decided he needed to have one last check round the house, which I did not agree with, telling him, with maybe just a touch of severity in my voice, that all he needed to be doing was getting into bed beside me instantly. There was no need for him to go wandering off and leaving me. I'd checked myself before I came upstairs and I knew Mr Taylor wouldn't be allowing any more trouble to happen; especially considering that he was guarding Miss Stella even more carefully last night than he usually does.

I'm glad to say Sidney didn't hesitate a moment, knowing well that when I use a certain tone of voice to him, I mean to be obeyed. It's all well and good taking marriage vows as a wife and promising to obey a husband, but it has to work both ways. Husbands have to do their share of obeying their wives as well.

I'm gazing at his sleeping form now, watching him twitch his nose as is his way in his sleep. My Sidney, my dear Sidney... oh but there are times when he makes me despair, when he just doesn't take care enough of himself. Too many thoughts filling his head, that's the trouble. All those books he reads, they clutter up his mind with all sorts of wild fancies and ideas, pushing things like taking care of himself clean out of his head. So I need to remind him now and again, and I take that part of my duties as his wife most seriously. But we both look after each other and though we have our occasional disagreements, more often than not we are in accord.

The light on the bedside table catches my eye again as I think that. In my mind's eye, I can still the most anxious look Sidney had in his eyes, when he asked if we might leave the lamp lit, just for tonight, in case we had a need for it.

I was glad, I must confess, that he suggested that, and I felt a good deal more peaceful with it burning. For any of the other dear souls that Sidney and I were looking after under our roof last night, it will have provided a light to take a comfort in should they have needed it.

It was after that request that he kissed me on the cheek, snuggled down under the blankets and was asleep almost immediately. It's not hard to tell when he's fallen asleep as his snoring is enough to shake the rafters sometimes. But I was not going to complain; nor did I even utter a word of rebuke about the way he did his usual trick of pressing his cold feet onto me. No, he could have been as cold-footed and as noisy in his snores as he liked; he was beside me and that was all I cared about...

And his cold feet are pressed against me now, though they have warmed up a little. I clean forgot to make up our hot water bottle with all the to-do we had last night. Dear me, but my husband does have cold feet and hands! It is a warm heart to go with them he has though, so I must not make too much fuss. Perhaps it's to do with how skinny he is; he never seems to be warm enough or have enough meat on his bones. No matter how much I feed him, he doesn't seem to put an ounce of weight on - same as Mr Flack, who eats enough for a bear, but stays as thin as a rake. It does not seem quite fair. I eat barely any more than Sidney - well, perhaps just a few more cakes and cookies - and yet my clothes always feel a little too tight. No matter how much I try and lace my corset up, my waist refuses to shrink.

That, however, is a reminder for me that there are going to be hungry people waking up soon and lounging in bed isn't going to get any breakfast cooked. Dear me no! Time for me to be up and about I think.

After blowing out the lamp, I clamber out of bed as carefully as I can so as not to wake Sidney, even though he stirs and mumbles something which sounds very much like a line from one of Mr Shakespeare's plays. Now if that doesn't prove my point about his head being all tangled up with things he reads I don't know what does. Real outlandish things they are too and what his dreams are filled with, I don't want to imagine. Why he can't dream about sensible things like baking I do not know...

Shaking my head, I lay out my clothes, before dressing as fast as I can, shivering a little in the cold. Though no more snow has fallen over night, no more has melted either and the air is bitter. I cast a quick look at Sidney as I leave the room, but he's snoring again so I leave him to his dreams.

All seems peaceful in the house as I emerge onto the landing. Though I listen out carefully, there's not a sound. A great difference from yesterday morning. The memory makes me pause for a moment and gather my composure. May we never be woken by gunshots again! With that in mind I know I will not be satisfied until I have checked on everyone before starting breakfast preparations.

Taking a quick look into Miss Higgins' room, I find her still sleeping, her pistol on the stool beside the bed and her hat resting on her stomach. It's a sight that fair makes me smile; she may have been in the town only a few days but she has soon settled in, and she seems to have captured the heart of our Dr Hawkes. It didn't escape my attention how he looked out for her in the saloon. Maybe, in the fullness of time, there will be one more wedding in town and one less bachelor...

And if I'm not very much mistaken, Mr Taylor himself will not be a bachelor man much longer, judging by the sight that meets my eyes as I turn the corner of the stairs and come into view of the living room. Well now, that is something to lift your heart - the dear Sheriff and his beloved lady lying in front of the fire, his arm round her and her head tucked below his chin, both of them fast asleep.

It's not something to be wondered at, not in these circumstances. Indeed, it seems only what was to be expected after last night. The memory is fresh in my mind even now as I stand on the stairs gazing half-unseeingly at Mr Taylor and Miss Stella... I must have been more tired than I'd allowed, as I'd had some thought of staying up for as long as possible keeping an ear open to listen out for anyone needing me. As it was though, I must have fallen asleep not so very long after Sidney did; only to jerk awake a short time afterwards, seized with a feeling of uneasiness. I got out of bed and halfway down the stairs, drawn by the sound of broken-hearted crying, but got no further. The voice of the Sheriff, murmuring comfort ever so gently, stopped me. An intruder on people's moments together I am not. Miss Stella was being offered the love she needed from her Mr Taylor so I was able to take myself back upstairs without a prick to my conscience.

Ah, they're two dear people who need each other maybe more than they realise. But call it a wise woman's intuition, I do have a feeling that realisation might have struck them. If any good is to come from the sorrow of yesterday, I'd wish it to be that it's brought the two of them closer together. Maybe now they can allow themselves to need each other a little more.

For a few more moments, I stand and watch them, allowing myself a little smile. I'm just happy to see the two of them holding each other and so at peace. Maybe there'd be some disapproving about the properness of a gentleman and a lady who aren't quite married yet sleeping in such close proximity; and yes, maybe it is not quite fitting with the rules our society. But rules, and boundaries, have to be pushed a little at times. And the respectability and honest intent of both Mr Taylor and Miss Stella is unquestionable.

After saying all that though, there's really no need for anyone else to even know. I certainly won't be saying anything. Least said, soonest mended to my way of thinking. They're two grown adults with a whole lot of sense, despite some of the dangers they've got themselves into over the years, and I'm not going to condemn them.

In truth, I'm pleased as Punch to see dear Miss Stella not refusing comfort from her Mr Taylor, unlike last night. My, but that did hurt him. I could see it clear as anything in his face, though he tried his best not to let it show. Can't say that I've ever met a man as good as keeping his feelings to himself as Mr Taylor is, but where Miss Stella is concerned, they're clear to see.

Well, the sight of the two of them is a bright start to a new day. And the start of a new day means morning, and morning means breakfast. Standing here contemplating isn't going to get the breakfast cooked!

Not wanting to wake Mr Taylor and Miss Stella, knowing they both need as much sleep as they can get, I tiptoe to the kitchen quieter than even a mouse, holding my skirts round me. Without making too much of a clattering and a banging, I get the stove lit and start preparing breakfast and it's soon warm as toast in the kitchen.

The bacon and eggs are frying nicely when I hear a sound in the doorway and turn to see Mr Taylor standing there looking just a bit sleep-rumpled. Certainly his hair isn't usually standing on end as it is now, nor is his shirt ever so creased. Indeed, he seems very conscious of his state of dress, attempting to smooth down his hair and clothes.

Despite his outward appearance there's a spark in his eye and he looks much, much better than he did last night as he wishes me a good morning.

"Thanking you, my love, and a good morning to you as well," I say, drawing out a chair from the table for him to sit down on. "You come and make yourself comfortable and I'll serve you up breakfast in no time. Did you and Miss Stella sleep well?"

Now I didn't mean to embarrass the Sheriff, but at that question he looks a mite bit uncomfortable and his forehead furrows. "I slept pretty well myself, Martha. Likely Stella did too..."

Guiding him by the arm to sit him down on the chair, as he still hasn't done that himself, I try and reassure him, telling him that I'm pleased to hear that.

However, he still looks at me with a touch of wariness, so I speak firmly, patting him on the arm, "Whatever I saw stays within these walls, my love. There won't be anyone hearing anything about sleeping arrangements from my lips."

The Sheriff is silent for a moment, considering what I've said. He's always a considering sort of man though, thinking more than he speaks.

When he does speak, thanking me for my understanding, there's a little bit of hoarseness in his voice which prompts me to pour some coffee out for him.

"I appreciate all you've said and done, Martha," he continues, clearing his throat and tapping his fingers on the table. "Especially opening your home to Stella and me and taking care of us last night."

Setting the mug of coffee down in front of him, I receive a quick smile from him.

"Now then, Mr Taylor," I begin, feeling that now's the time to be sharing a few things with him. "You've no need to thank me, though I appreciate you doing so all the same. As I hope both you and Miss Stella know, me and Sidney are glad to show you both our hospitality. We think the world of you and it's no trouble to offer you a bit of help now and again, no trouble at all."

There's a slight bit of embarrassment in his face and he mumbles something about having to offer more than enough help in the last few days, but he's soon serious again.

"Don't know for sure what Stella and I would have done otherwise last night." His gaze becomes distant for a moment. "She was in a real bad way..."

Giving his shoulder a rub, I remind him gently that she wasn't the only one. Though I don't want to upset his pride, he needs to remember sometimes, like my Sidney does, that he needs to be more careful about looking after himself. But, as I tell him, he's looking a good deal brighter this morning.

Half a smile appears on his lips. "I'll admit to you, Martha, that a few hours sleep really does do a man good. Though I ain't gonna tell Don that." The smile on his face turns wry for a moment, which I wonder at, but letting it pass, I nod in approval at him, replying that indeed it does and I know it'll be doing Miss Stella the power of good too.

"You left her comfortably I take it?" I ask him.

He glances at me quickly, a trace of colour in his cheeks before he recovers himself and nods, telling me he lifted her back onto the couch without disturbing her, so she didn't wake up facing the fire and maybe being afraid.

That's all good and considerate of him, as I tell him, but as I also tell him, maybe not the best thing for his ribs which won't have had time to heal fully after his injuries in the gunpowder works.

He simply responds that Miss Stella isn't heavy and his ribs are much recovered. Well, there's not a lot I can say to that, so instead I place a plate of bacon and eggs and toast in front of him and watch him sniff appreciatively. It's a pleasure to see that; I don't have no time for anyone who doesn't appreciate a good breakfast.

"You tuck into that, Mr Taylor and it'll build your strength up even more," I say. "A good hearty breakfast is the best thing for a man, especially on a cold morning after events such as we faced yesterday. There's plenty more where that came from."

Mr Taylor nods in thanks and continues eating. That's what I like to see; a man enjoying his food. Though he'll eat when I put a plate down in front of him, my Sidney can be relied upon to forget about eating unless he's reminded. Unlike Mr Flack of course. My, if there's a man who enjoys his food it's him. Turns up regular as you like for breakfast at the back door. But I do wonder if today might be an exception. It may even be that he's decided to call on the Angells for breakfast. I do hope his appetite hasn't been upset though. He's such a skinny young man, I'd hate for him to go hungry...

Thinking of people going hungry prompts me to go into the pantry to fetch another loaf of bread and some more bacon and eggs. With three extra people in the house, I'll need to make sure the stove stays hot and the food is plentiful. After the hardships of last winter, Sidney and I made sure we had plenty stored, so we've no need to fear going short of any provisions.

While Mr Taylor's eating, I put on some water to heat, as it's very likely Miss Stella will enjoy a bath after she's woken up and eaten. No doubt she'll feel better after washing all that smoke off her skin and out of her hair. And once she's bathed, the poor girl's going to need some fresh clean clothes to put on too; the gown she had on yesterday is ruined and fit for nothing but rags. Luckily my Elizabeth is about the same size as Miss Stella, although she is perhaps a mite broader round the waist and hips. I know she left a lovely green poplin gown in her wardrobe which I can easily take an inch or two in of and that will suit Miss Stella down to the ground...

Funnily enough, just as I'm thinking that, Mr Taylor asks me about the very same thing; if I could provide anything for Miss Stella to wear. I'm pleased to be able to tell him what I've planned and take some of his worries away. I also take the opportunity to suggest he'd benefit from some soap and warm water as his poor face is still looking sorely battered after that wicked Billy Baines hit him. He accepts after a little persuasion, and I fill a basin for him and fetch a towel and some soap. Certainly, he does look better once he's cleaned himself up.

Soon after that, Sidney enters the kitchen, yawning and blinking behind his spectacles but greeting me with a kiss. He offers the Sheriff, who looks a little self-conscious, a good morning before sitting down and enquiring about Miss Higgins' whereabouts.

In answer to that, Miss Higgins herself, fully dressed, enters the room offering apologies for her tardy appearance, which I dismiss quickly. Indeed, it's only a little after 8 o'clock in the morning. She looks a little startled to see the Sheriff, but greets him nonetheless. Poor Mr Taylor though does seem unsure of himself with all this company round him.

As soon as Miss Higgins has sat down, I fill up the plates again, persuading Mr Taylor to eat a little more, and sit down myself. There's a little conversation between us, though not much. Mr Taylor is quiet but Sidney and I soon draw him into our chatter and Miss Higgins contributes several remarks. Some of our talk is speculation about Mr Flack's possible appearance for breakfast, with Sidney not seeming to mind too much that he hasn't turned up yet.

Once Mr Flack has been exhausted as a topic of conversation, our discussions centre around Miss Monroe and Mr Messer; poor Miss Monroe looked terribly pale yesterday and had the Angells not offered to take her home with them, I'd have brought her here myself. But Mrs Angell and Miss Jessica will look after her, of that I'm sure and I know Mr Flack won't allow any more harm to befall Mr Messer. My, but the people in this town do look after one another - which is how it should be. We're all one town together, out in the middle of a great big landscape, so it's only right to take care of one another. I shall call on the Angells myself later, to inquire after their household and Miss Monroe. I do have a wondering about something there; just a suspicion... However, I must wait to be proved right or wrong.

A brief pause in our talk follows as for a few moments we all fall silent, reflecting somewhat soberly on yesterday's events. Sidney it is who breaks it, asking if there's any more bacon and I'm glad to be busy again serving up more food as well as snatching a mouthful or two myself.

Pushing her plate away once she's finished a second helping, Miss Higgins sighs in contentment. "Don't think even Ma herself could've produced a better breakfast than you have, Mrs Hammerback, ma'am," she says. "You're a real fine lady and a real fine cook."

Well now, if that's not a gratifying thing to hear. It's brought a blush to my face to hear such praise. Welcome indeed it is to hear my cooking praised, especially when both Sidney and Mr Taylor echo her compliments; although Sidney mumbles something about only getting to eat a proper breakfast when a certain Deputy isn't around…

Very kindly, Miss Higgins offers to wash up but I tell her there's no need. It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but there's only one person who cleans and cooks in my kitchen and that's me. Sidney attempts to tease me about that now and again, but he soon stops when I remind him of the time he almost burned the entire house down when an experiment in cooking he undertook, using some highly explosive materials, went badly wrong.

Miss Higgins smiles at me. "Mighty kind of you to let me board with you, Mrs Hammerback; I'm much obliged."

"You're more than welcome, my love," I say and ask what she intends to be doing this morning.

She tells me she'll stroll over to call on Dr Hawkes and see if there's anything she can help him with, which sounds a fine plan to me. After bidding us all farewell, she takes her leave. Shortly afterwards, Mr Taylor coughs and clears his throat before pushing his chair back, although he does not stand up.

"Reckon I ought to go and get myself changed." He smoothes his shirt and hair down again with another self-conscious look. "I ain't gonna be long as I expect Stella will be awake soon."

Guessing he's anxious about leaving Miss Stella, I reassure him that I'll be on hand when she wakes up and can offer a lady's touch when it comes to all that sort of thing like finding her clean clothes. That seems to reduce some of his anxiety but he's still in no rush to take his leave. There's something of a moment of silence when I smile encouragingly at him. Looking between both Sidney and myself, he finally stands without haste, clears his throat again and asks Sidney, with an apology to me, if he could ask him about something important in private.

"By all means, Taylor," Sidney says, rising from his chair, after throwing me a curious look. My curiosity has been greatly aroused too, wondering what the Sheriff could possibly want to ask... but I expect I will hear soon enough. In the meantime, I will practice my patience.

Just as they are about to leave the room, they are stopped by Miss Stella's entrance. The poor girl looks all shadows under her eyes and her hair is wild, not to mention the state of her dress, but that's not to be wondered at. And that we can easily get sorted out. There's nothing like fresh clean clothes, a good breakfast and a wash to help a person feel better. But it saddens me to see the bruise on her cheek and the swelling of her bottom lip and know there is nothing I can do about them. Only time and care will heal those and all the other hurts she has suffered.

And she has someone who will help that healing - I don't miss the look that passes between the Sheriff and his lady as she comes hesitantly into the room, somewhat wobbly with the remains of sleep. It is a look that is both shy and expectant, laden with understanding and care. A look that makes my eyes dart across to my husband's as we share a knowing glance.

Sidney greets her warmly, as do I, both of us pleased and relieved to see the difference in her compared to last night. She smiles at both of us, but it is Mr Taylor who keeps her attention, and, as I do not fail to note, takes her hand. It seems there is much to be said between the two of them, but for the moment they seem to content to exchange a few words and glances; a few touches also as Mr Taylor moves his chair out for her before taking her arm gently as she walks over to it and sits down.

"How are you feeling this morning, my lovely?" I ask her as she rubs her eyes and tries to smother a yawn.

"Better, thank you," she says, casting another quick smile towards Mr Taylor who stands behind her chair, one hand protectively on her shoulder.

Well I won't dispute that she looks better, but there is still some way to go before her and Mr Taylor's wellbeing is fully restored.

With something of a question in his voice, Mr Taylor tells her of his intention to change his clothes. She holds his gaze and again I get an inkling of words passing between them silently as she nods and smiles, clasping his hand for a moment. Then with more than a few glances at her, Mr Taylor departs with Sidney.

At that, Miss Stella looks a little wistful. Without wanting to be insensitive, I try and shake her out of it by telling her that as it's now just the two of us, we can enjoy an unhurried and ladylike breakfast without the menfolk. It doesn't quite reach her eyes, but I win a smile from her and the comment that it's a real nice change to share breakfast with another lady. That makes me wonder if maybe the girl's lonely at times: that great big saloon – well, as it was before last night – and only her in it. I feel a little stricken, just for a second, until I remember that Miss Stella is an independent lady who enjoys her freedom. She might well enjoy though having some company for breakfast and there is also, of course, the matter of where she will be living now the saloon is gone. I do have a proposition which I will put to her later, but for now, I'm just pleased to see her eating. Not as much as I'd have liked and I don't miss how she's coughing now and again, but still, she gets some nourishment down her. And she's happy enough to accept when I suggest a bath and hair wash, telling her at the same time about the gown of Elizabeth's she can wear. That puts a real pleased smile on her face, as it does on mine.

Clearing up takes me no time at all - Miss Stella offers to help, but I refuse firmly. It's a sign of how affected she still is that she doesn't argue too much. After setting another pan of water to heat, we go through to the living room where I do allow her to help me set up the panelled screen and bath tub a little way from the fireplace. Though it's still there, I'm relieved to see her fear of the fire seems to have lessened. After draping two towels over a chair to warm in front of the hearth, I fetch some of my favourite bath salts and sprinkle a goodly amount in the tub which soon produces a wonderfully fragrant cloud of steam.

When the tub's full, however, Miss Stella looks a bit awkward and unsure of herself; twisting her fingers together as is her way when she's anxious about something.

"Now don't you worry," I encourage her, patting her arm. "You've got all the privacy you need with that screen and I'm at hand for anything else you want. Go right ahead, my lovely." After a short hesitation she gives me an uncertain smile and steps behind the screen.

A pause in our conversation follows, during which time I can hear muffled mutterings in between more coughing.

"Are you all right, my love? Can you manage all those buttons?" I ask. "No doubt you're a little stiff after..." I stop, realising that I'm in danger of embarrassing her as well. There's silence from Miss Stella, just the sound of breathing. "After not sleeping in your bed," I continue in as matter of fact a voice as I can muster. Another pause follows before she answers slowly that yes, likely her muscles are kind of stiff, but she can manage.

"Thank you," she adds hastily. "I ain't wantin' to be unappreciative."

"I'd never think you were," I reply. There's another murmured thank you, the sounds of more fumbling and material being stretched and tugged, perhaps with just a touch of impatience and her gown is tossed over the screen.

That I take and bundle up, knowing there isn't much of it can be salvaged. A real shame that is too as it's been a beautiful satin gown. I shake my head over it, but there's no use crying over spilt milk, or torn frocks. I'll give it a wash and maybe something can be made of the undamaged pieces of material.

Shortly following is an assortment of undergarments and those can be laundered and re-used. I let Miss Stella know I'm taking them to the kitchen and will be back directly.

The last pan of water is just about the right temperature so I heave that through to the living room. Sidney always murmurs a reproof when he sees me carrying heavy items but my arms are strong and I'm not a woman who can stand by and let someone do a job she's perfectly capable of doing herself. And neither, I'm certain, is Miss Stella.

Setting down the pan, I tell her to ask me for anything that she needs and she replies that she will, thanking me again. I'm about to make my way back to the kitchen to begin tidying up the breakfast things when she calls to ask if there's any soap she can use, if I don't mind.

Goodness, if I hadn't gone and clean forgotten about soap... though I intend no pun by that.

"Of course I don't mind, my lovely," I call, already on my way upstairs.

I tap on the screen before I step round it with the soap; there's not much that can embarrass me, but Miss Stella is very much used to her privacy.

Her arms are wrapped round herself and taking note of that and the blush in her cheeks, I smile reassuringly at her and tell her I'm not far before stepping quickly back round the screen.

After pushing round a large enamel jug and the pan of water so she can rinse her hair, I remember that I'd almost gone and forgotten the clothes. Dear me, these stairs seem to get steeper the more times I hurry up them!

Just as well as my arms are strong as they're soon laden with the gown and all the petticoats and whatnots Miss Stella will need - I'm mindful of the cold of the day and I don't want her catching a chill.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, the noise of the front door opening and male voices alerts me to our men returning. They pass straight through into the kitchen, however, no doubt realising that Miss Stella has not quite finished her bathing.

I arrange the clothes over the screen and she thanks me, letting me know she's finished and will be dressed shortly.

"Take your time," I reassure her, "there's no rush necessary. Mr Taylor and Sidney are in the kitchen - there's not too much mischief they can get up to in there," I add, thinking she might take some amusement from that.

Indeed, there's a slight chuckle which I'm pleased to hear.

She soon emerges dressed and with cheeks glowing pink, one of the towels round her shoulders and her hair spread across it.

"Well now, my lovely!" I beam at her, "You do look brighter and that colour suits you marvellously."

She looks down, smoothing the gown with her fingers. "It's a real nice dress," she smiles, "And it's real kind of you to lend it."

I reassure her that it's my pleasure before noticing it does hang a bit loosely on her. Telling her to stand where she is, I fetch my pincushion, needle case and thread and while she stands patiently enough, I make a few quick adjustments that will do for the time being. It needs sewing properly, but that I can do when she takes it off tonight.

When I'm done, I usher her over to the couch and get her sitting close to the heat from the fire, but not so close as to cause her any worry. It's then I notice a smoke-stained little rag doll propped against a cushion and pick her up with a questioning look before I remember.

"Your little Emily doll," I say softly.

A startled look appears in Miss Stella's face and I tell her that I well recall the time Mr Taylor and I, along with Emily, sat with her after that wild horse of hers tossed her off his back.

Miss Stella is momentarily embarrassed as I pass Emily to her, but soon recovers her composure. "I was hopin', if it ain't too much to ask, you could do me another favour," she starts as she touches the little doll's spoiled frock. "Knowin' how good you are with a needle and thread, could you maybe fix her hair and dress?"

"By all means, my lovely." I give her knee a pat, delighted that she's asked me. "It'd be my pleasure to make her up something new to wear."

A smile brightens the girl's face as she thanks me. I start to tell her about how I used to make all sorts of little items for Elizabeth and Charlotte's dolls, realising as I'm telling her how much I miss that sort of thing, but there's no time to finish the conversation as Sidney calls through to ask if it's suitable for him and Mr Taylor to join us.

Miss Stella's more than pleased to see her Sheriff and though he refuses to take my place on the couch, he moves to stand next to her and she slips her hand into his.

I'm pleased too that he compliments her on her outfit, which brings a further smile to her lips. Both of us question our men if they have anything to tell us and an interesting look is exchanged between them before Sidney denies that there is anything to be told, that they simply went to the Sheriff's Office before returning home. I may need to do some further questioning of my husband…

Indeed, Mr Taylor and Miss Stella will no doubt be grateful for some time together, so I hustle Sidney into the kitchen and waste no time in asking him if there really is nothing to report. He tries to divert me with a kiss, which only makes me more determined to get to the bottom of the twinkle in his eyes; however, he won't budge.

It seems I must be patient even longer...

Well, I cannot be idle while I wonder, so I search through my scrap box and set Sidney to tasks under my direction. As soon as I've found a pretty piece of calico that will make the perfect dress for Emily, we venture back into the living room.

Our two guests sit together on the couch, hands held, talking quietly. Mr Taylor stands up at my entrance though and his hand moves to Miss Stella's shoulder. Addressing her more than anyone else, he tells us he'll be stepping out for a short time to check on things in town.

But Miss Stella is not satisfied to be left behind. Standing up with a look of determination in her face (similar to the one she had a few days ago when Mr Taylor decided he was riding off to the gunpowder works and she decided she was going with him) she announces that she wants to go and see what's left of the Saloon.

All three of us protest immediately with me telling her she shouldn't even think about going outside yet, that her hair isn't nearly dry for a start...

"I ain't gonna catch cold," she says stubbornly, showing some of her usual spark. "Besides," she turns to Mr Taylor, gripping his hand, "It's gotta be faced sometime and now's as good a time as any."

He frowns, asking if she's sure about that while he studies her face closely. Just for a second, her gaze drops and her reply is less certain. The two of them stand, simply looking at each other, their hands remaining clasped.

"You don't have to face it today," Mr Taylor says softly.

Miss Stella sighs, turning her head away for an instant before she meets his eyes. "I know, Mac, I just..."

I decide it's the right moment to step in and suggest she waits at least until her hair is dry and preferably until tomorrow. After a little more discussion, we are still not decided; however, a knock at the door stops us.

It heralds the appearance of Dr Hawkes who delivers a cheerful good morning, before telling us with a smile that he's here, as promised, to examine his two patients. Mr Taylor and Miss Stella look most unhappy at the prospect, but it's a relief to me and, as I tell them, it decides the question of whether Miss Stella goes to look at the saloon or not.

They look somewhat taken aback at that and are silenced, much to my satisfaction. Without waiting for anything more to be said I hurry through to the kitchen to make tea, happy to know they're staying safe indoors a little longer. Although, as I acknowledge with a sigh, how long they will stay safe is another matter...

Thanks for reading; reviews very welcome and replied to as usual with an extra scene :) Lily x