36

An Unusual Request

Back at the Mesquakie village, Regina was busy administering the special beer to all the sick people in the roundhouse. Actually, she went one step further and had the whole tribe, except for those who were pregnant, drink it also, but only a dose, figuring whatever was in there could only help and not harm.

Bae was now able to sit up and walk outside, and spent a lot of his time out in the fresh air, away from the smoke and closeness of the roundhouse. Horse came by and would talk to him and give him small jobs to do so he kept busy, like braiding cord or carding wool—a thing he used to hate but was now grateful for—as he helped the people who had taken him in while h was ill. Raindancer too was on the mend, and she would often join him, sewing a pair of doeskin breeches or mending some moccasins while he braided.

Finally on the third day, Regina stopped by and said, "I've done as much as I can here, Bae. Everyone in the roundhouse is mending, Papa's cure worked a miracle. Tall Grass and Weeping Beech Woman say they can take it from here. We have several barrels of the cure to transport over to Storybrooke, and if we need more, the still is here to make it."

"How about the prisoner?" Bae asked.

Regina shrugged. "His fate rests in the hands of the council, not mine. We have no say in it. His help may have earned him a quick death . . . or as an alternative—being made a slave to those he harmed." Her voice said clearly either way she didn't care.

"So you're saying it's time we went home," Bae asked. "That's good. I've been wondering how Mama is."

"Yes . . .and brought the cure to Storybrooke. They'll be needing it. I'm going to send a message to Papa."

"Raven Heart, may I come with you?" Raindancer spoke up.

"Huh? You wanna come with us?" Bae was puzzled. "But your home is here."

"I have had a Vision. It has told me my path now lies with you . . . in the waiscu village." Raindancer said serenely.

Bae was flabbergasted. But he knew better than to say something negative over a vision. The Mesquakie set great store by visions, and if a vision reoccurred it was always heeded. Plainly Raindancer felt this one must be heeded, or else she wouldn't have decided to accompany them.

"Have you spoken to your parents?" Regina asked.

"Yes. They have told me to follow where my spirit leads." She looked directly at Regina. "When I . . . when I was ill . . . my spirit flew to the World Inbetween, and there Deer told me . . . she told me that my fate would now lie in the wasicu village. You know about the other Vision I had before. So . . . . my path lies with you, sister."

Regina smiled. "Well, then, as soon as you both feel up to it, we'll leave. But first, let me send a message to my father. I want to see if my mother is well . . . and tell him we're coming."

Bae nodded, thinking he would be sad to leave this place, for he had enjoyed his time here—in spite of his illness. But he knew he was strong enough to travel, and they couldn't wait too much longer, people were dying in Storybrooke and they had the only cure available.

He looked up as a shadow loomed over him and saw Horse grinning down at him. "Hey," he greeted the other boy.

"Feeling better now, I see. Raven Heart says it's time for you to return to the white village."

Bae nodded. "Yeah. There's a lot of people sick there and we need the medicine my papa made for them." But he looked wistful.

Horse hunkered down and said matter-of-factly, "When you have given the medicine to those in need, maybe you can come back and visit again someday. We will still be here, Night Bear won't move the camp with so many recovering, and this is a good spot. When you return, we can hunt and ride together." He grinned crookedly. "Perhaps I can even teach a wasicu boy to ride like a Mesquakie."

"I'd like that. And so would Luna," Bae smiled.

"Then I wish you a safe journey and that your mother gets better soon. Though I think Mystic Fox will see to that."

Bae nodded. "Papa's always been good at taking care of people. I just hope the baby's all right."

"Baby?"

"Uh huh. Mama's gonna have a baby."

"I shall pray the papoose is well also." Horse said. "Until we meet again, Fire Warrior."

He clasped Bae's wrist in friendship before withdrawing.

Regina returned, and together with Raindancer, Horse, and another brave Whistling Elk, they packed up the wagon with the barrels of the cure, leaving one behind for the Mesquakie to use if necessary, though all those who had gotten the sickness were recovering, and each of the well tribesmen had been given a dose as a preventative.

They hitched up Jenny and were soon on their way back to Storybrooke. Regina explained that she had sent a raven to Rum, and it returned and told her that Belle was mending, as well as the orphans and Mrs. Muffet and Granny.

Bae was relieved to hear it, and relaxed in the wagon bed, allowing Regina to drive, and soon the gentle rocking put him to sleep.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Archie and Will were going around to some of the poorer residences, offering the new elixir, which they called Gold's Miracle Tonic. Most of the people were desperate, and willing to try anything. Since Mr. Gold refused to charge for the elixir, most people took it and were grateful and gave them bartered goods in exchange. But they were running out, and soon returned to the orphanage with whatever goods they had received—smoked ham, pairs of socks, a wooden jumping jack, a rag rug, a quilt, a barrel of dried fish and one of dried beef, plus a few quarts of whiskey.

"You can put those in the kitchen, we can have ham tonight with baked beans," Rum told the boys. "I'm sure Mrs. Muffet will have use for the quit and the rug, socks, and the jumping jack. We can take the dried fish and beef with us to trade with the Mesquakie." He frowned at the whiskey. "That I don't know what to do with."

"You could trade it down at the Rabbit Hole or Esmerelda's," Will suggested.

"Hmm, good idea." Rum acknowledged. "I'll do that later."

He busied himself putting the ham in the oven with a maple glazed and used his magic to soak the beans, then made up a sauce for them and set them to simmer on the back of the stove for a few hours.

That done he went to check on his patients. Mrs. Muffet was crocheting a blanket in her rocker, while some of the children were reading or playing checkers. Belle was reading in the window seat, a blanket tucked about her legs, sipping a cup of tea.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he greeted her with a kiss.

"I feel much stronger today, Rum," she smiled back.

"Strong enough to eat some of my soup?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, then took his hand and placed it upon her tummy. "Can you feel her? She's waving hi at her papa."

A moment later he did feel her belly move and then the baby stuck a hand up.

A look of utter awed delight spread across the shaman's features. "Oh! That's . . . the most incredible thing I've ever seen!"

His wife laughed at the pure astonishment and joy that was plastered all across his face. "Didn't you ever . . . I mean with Bae?"

"No. Milah was delivered by the time I came home," he replied.

"Well this time you're going to be here for all of it," she murmured. "Except for the actual delivery, of course."

Rumple blinked. "Why not that too?"

"Well . . . err . . . because most men don't . . . it's not done . . ." she sputtered, thinking she could just see the midwife's face if she told her Mr. Gold wanted to be present in the room while she gave birth.

He closed a hand over hers. "And when, dearie, have we ever done what society dictates?"

"Never . . .but, Rum, are you sure you want to?"

"Yes. I want to be there with you," he reassured her. "I want to help you in any way I can. Do you want me there?"

She didn't hesitate. "Yes. I do. Just having you there will make me feel safe."

"Then I'll be there, sweetheart. With bells on," he quipped.

"I love you, Rum," she declared sincerely.

"I love you too," he replied and hugged her. "And I would whatever I had to in order to protect my child."

"I know. I would also. And that's how it should be."

Oh, just kiss her already, Mystic Fox! cackled Willow.

He turned and fixed the staff with a glare. "Really, old woman, will you mind your business? I'll kiss my wife when I'm ready."

In his head, Willow laughed at his repartee.

Rumple waited a few more seconds before declaring, "Now I'm ready." Then he gently bent and kissed her tummy and then his wife, one breath stealing, passionate and gentle kiss.

Then he raised his head and said to the staff, "Happy now?"

In his head Willow whistled. Now that's what I call a kiss!

Later on, he left her asleep in bed, and went to check on Margaret. On his way back from her house, he ran into Jack, who looked rather haggard.

"Hey, do you need some of my elixir? You look kind of . . .peaked."

Jack shook his head. "Thanks, Rum, but I've already taken some . . . and made Jeff take some too. He's been . . . well . . . you know how it is when someone you love passes away . . ."

"Yes. I know," Rum said quietly. Jeff's wife Alice had died of the scourge before Rum returned with the antidote, though he had come in time for him to save Jeff's little daughter Grace and his two partners. So he had to thank God for small favors. "I just went over to see how Margaret was doing."

"Is she getting better?"

"Yes, she is. She's a tough old bird."

"Good," Jack seemed relieved. "Well, I'd best be going back to Jeff's house now. I promised him I'd watch Grace. Oh, and how are your family doing?"

"Belle is getting better and so is Bae. In fact Bae should be here any day now with the rest of the elixir. Then we can distribute it to the other townsfolk," the tailor explained.

"How did you discover it?"

"Jack, I basically had a dream and God showed me what to do," Rumple said honestly. "I wasn't sure if the stuff I brewed would work, but it did and now at least we have hope of beating this disease. I'm just sorry I couldn't be here in time to save Alice."

"Rum, you did the best you could," Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "Neither of us blame you. Sometimes God calls you home and that's it."

"Yes," Rum agreed, knowing that was surely true.

Jeff bid him good day and returned to the street where he lived—the two brothers lived next to each other.

Rumple was of a mind to return to the shop just to make sure looters hadn't broken into it when he saw Leroy and Orville come riding into town.

"Mr. Gold! We need to talk to ya!" exclaimed Leroy. He pulled up beside the tailor.

"Hello, Leroy. Is everything all right back at the mine?"

"Umm . . . well, that's one of the things I have to talk to ya about," said the burly miner. "You see, sir, the mine . . . there was a cave in . . . and it's all gone . . . impossible to get anymore gold out."

"I see." Gold recalled how in his Dream, he had made a deal to give the gold back to the Earth—and it seemed it had been accepted. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Not us, but . . . well, Mayor Spencer . . .he went into the mine . . . we didn't know . . . and he was there when it collapsed."

"He's dead?"

"Yup, deader than a doorknob!" Orville crowed.

"That's . . . unfortunate. Did he have any relatives?"

"No. No one. It was just him and his money and his position," Leroy said. "I just hope he left a will. If not . . ."

"If not whatever he left behind will go to those less fortunate," Gold decreed. "We'll need to hold a re-lection for mayor and perhaps his money can be used to help the people of Storybrooke. His and Tolle's, for he has succumbed to the scourge."

"Tolle's dead too?" Leroy whistled. "Never thought I see the day that devil was gone. They do say the Lord works in mysterious ways." He wiped sweat from his brow. "I'm real sorry about the gold, sir."

"Don't be, Leroy. These things happen. I'll manage . . . especially now that I don't have Tolle breathing down our necks, threatening to raise the taxes on my land." Then he asked, "How are Emma and Ruby doing?"

"The little ladies are fine, Mr. Gold. In fact, Ruby asked me to find out how her granny was doing."

"Margaret is getting better. As soon as Bae comes with more of my elixir, I'll give all of you a dose and then you won't need to worry about becoming infected by the scourge," he told the miner.

"You mean . . . you discovered a cure?" Leroy asked, awed.

Rum nodded. "Yes. By the grace of God. I discovered it while I was at the Indian village."

"That's incredible, Mr. Gold! Shoot, ya don't have to worry about the mine anymore. This elixir is probably worth its weight in gold!"

Rum hesitated, then said, "Well . . . I don't know if I feel comfortable charging people who are desperate for a cure. Or marketing it just yet. Not until I can make more . . . enough to help more than just the people of Storybrooke and the Indians."

"Whatever you think best, Mr. Gold." Leroy tipped his hat to him. "Now, I'd best be telling the undertaker about Mr. Spencer . . . and we'll see what happens. Good day, sir."

Rum thought again how with Spencer dead—and what an ironic thing that was—he wouldn't have to worry about the taxes being raised to a ridiculous degree on his land and with Tolle gone as well, no more shipments of his brassieres would be damaged.

You see, Mystic Fox? The Creator takes care of all in His time, Fox sent to him.

As always, you're right, dearie.

He felt Fox's presence in his mind like a ray of pure sunlight, warming his spirit and infusing him with confidence.

He was almost back to the orphanage when he saw Thomas accompanied by a boy of about twelve coming towards him. "Rum, a moment, if you please. This youngster here—Stefan Briarly—came to me today with a bit of a quandary . . . and I confess I'm at a loss to try and help him. I was hoping maybe you might be able to."

"Certainly. What seems to be the trouble, lad?" Gold asked the boy, who had dark golden hair and blue eyes with a smattering of freckles over his nose.

"Mr. Gold, sir, I was telling the reverend here about my sister, Aurora. We lost our parents to typhoid fever on the boat over here from England, and Rory and me are the only family we got now. When we got here, Rory went to find work, but there wasn't anybody hiring so she went to work as a housecleaner over at Esmerelda's. She worked from dawn till dusk and I barely saw her some days cause she was sleeping when I left for school or work down at the stables, I'm a groom there. Anyway, bout a month or so back I noticed she weren't coming home regular anymore, she said she got extra work at the gaming hall and stayed over—but I ain't seen her in a week now and I got real scared cause of the sickness and all. So I went to see if she was all right and Mr. Nottingham said to go home and when I asked if he'd seen Rory that she hadn't come home, he told me he'd whip the skin off me if I didn't shut up and he kicked me out the door."

The boy looked upset. "Mr. Gold, I don't know what to do. Mr. Nottingham's as mean as a rattler and he won't let me in his saloon. What if Rory's sick or something and she needs help? I gotta make sure she's gonna be okay. She's all I got!"

The pleading in the lake blue eyes touched the tailor shaman profoundly. He looked at Thomas. "Is there any reason you couldn't ask this Nottingham where Stefan's sister is?"

"Well, no, but . . . a man like Nottingham has no respect for a man of the cloth. He's a gambler and a ne'er-do-well." Thomas replied uncomfortably.

"And you think he'd have respect for me?" Gold was astonished.

"Umm . . . well not . . .for you, persay, Rum, no offense, but Nottingham only respects thugs and extortionists, most likely, or anyone who can help him turn a profit. But he'd know of you and your cure, so maybe he might let you into the saloon."

"Yeah, we wanna see if you can get into the bar and see if Rory is there somewhere," Stefan said eagerly. "Or . . . I could sneak in if you'll unlock the back door. And I could look."

"I doubt if I'd have any more success than Stefan at being allowed inside Esmerelda's," coughed Thomas.

"All right, lad. Let me go and see if we have any more of the elixir. If not, I'll make up a placebo." Rum agreed.

" A what?"

"Placebo. A fake," he explained. "It's what my friend Victor calls a patent medicine—something that you think it real but it's just sugar water. With that I hope I'll be able to convince Mr. Nottingham to let me inside. Then I'll unlock the door as soon as I can and let you in, Stefan. Perhaps your sister is ill and was in quarantine."

Rum hoped for the boy's sake the girl was still among the living. Otherwise Mrs. Muffet would have a new orphan.

He exchanged glances with Thomas. Though he didn't say it, Rum was also concerned that the girl had not been kidnapped and sold to one of the unscrupulous men who frequented such places, and put in a bordello.

The reverend nodded. "God is with you, Rum."

"Can we go now, sir?"

"Just a moment, dearie. I have to fetch the elixir first and tell my wife where I'll be for the next few hours," the tailor told the eager youngster.

They accompanied him back to the orphanage, where Lucy, one of the older orphans, was just serving supper. "Mr. Gold, I wasn't sure when you'd be in, so I saved you a plate," the sixteen year old said.

"Thank you, Lucy, but I have an errand to run, so please keep it warm. I'll be back soon."

He mounted the stairs to get his shaman's satchel and to see if Belle was awake yet.

He found her trying to knit some booties for the baby in the rocker and when she saw him she set down the needles and said, "I'm afraid you're better at this than I am, Rum. I feel like I have two left thumbs."

He chuckled. "Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect."

She shook her head. "Rum, by the time I can knit something wearable, the baby will be an old man."

"You're not that hopeless, dearie!" he laughed. Then he said, "I have something to tell you."

Once he had finished explaining what he was going to do, Belle said fretfully, "Rum, maybe you'd better take along someone more . . . intimidating. Like the marshall."

"Belle, I don't know where Graham is. Last I heard, he either was putting down some looting by the docks and we don't have time to locate him. I'm just going to provide a distraction while the lad looks inside for his sister, that's all."

Belle didn't know exactly why his proposal made her uneasy, but it did. "Rum, Nottingham is . . . well, he's not the sort you cross . . . please be careful. The man has a reputation with a gun."

"A gunslinger?"

"That's what I've heard. Or a gangster," she muttered. She gripped his hand. "Promise me you'll come back, Rumford Gold."

"I always do, beloved."

"I'm sorry, I'm being a worrywart. But I just . . . want my baby to know her papa."

"She will, sweetheart." He kissed her gently. "Now, I must go, but I'll be back soon."

Then he went down to where Thomas and Stefan waited, and together they went down the street to where Esmerelda's was situated.

Rum had never been to the gambling den before, having never had a reason to venture there. As they approached the tall rambling structure, he noted that it was mostly dark and only the bottom floor plus a few rooms on the second story shone with the light of gas lanterns. It looked like some of the windows on the second story had been boarded up, and a few on the bottom also. He supposed looters could have done that.

In addition to the placebo elixir, Rum had brought three gallons of whiskey, figuring if one didn't get him inside, the other would.

"I'll go and wait round the back," Stefan whispered, then he darted away, his black trousers and homespun blue shirt lending itself to the shadows that had gathered about the building as twilight set in.

"How long do you think you'll be?" asked Thomas.

"Maybe twenty minutes, maybe more. You'll keep a lookout?"

"I will. If you don't come out after half-an-hour, I'm calling the marshall or his deputies, John Little and Much Miller." Thomas told him.

"I'm hoping that won't be necessary," Rum demurred.

He walked up to the double doors of the gambling hall and upon finding them locked, knocked on the door sharply with his staff. As he did so, he felt it quiver and then heard Willow in his head.

Rumple, beware. I trust not this place. It has a black aura surrounding it.

I don't like it much either.

Willow was correct. The air about this place stank of rum and liquor, cigarette and cigar smoke, sweat and grease, and something else—some sickly sweet odor Rum couldn't place, but he suspected was some kind of drug, like those smoked in the desert kingdom of Arabia. Inside he could hear mumbled words of men's voices and the clink of glass bottles and rattle of dice being tossed across a wooden surface.

He rapped again at the door, wondering if this place was open for business why the door was locked.

Soon enough it opened, and a burly man missing part of an ear peered out. "State yer bizness, mister."

"I'm Mr. Gold and I've come to trade with Mr. Nottingham, if he's in."

The big man grunted. "Wot ye got?"

"Whiskey. Or I have an elixir that will cure the red scourge. Is that worth something to you?"

The big man coughed. "I'll see what the boss says. Wait here."

The door shut and Rum turned to Thomas. "He's asking Nottingham."

"I'm praying they let you in," the reverend muttered.

Five minutes passed, then the door swung open again. "Come in, Mr. Gold. Mr. Nottingham will see ya."

Rum entered the establishment, trying not to cough at the stench of smoke hovering noxiously in the air.

He was uncertain, but he felt as if he had gone from the frying pan into the fire, as the saying went. But he had given his word, and he never broke a deal.

His moccasins stirred the dust on the floor as he followed the burly man across the barroom and through a door at the right of a staircase.

Inside was a tall man, handsome in the way a scalawag often is, with bright beady eyes that reminded Rum of a rat, dressed in black trousers, a white shirt, black vest, and a gunbelt. Dark curls tumbled carelessly down to his shoulders and he had a small goatee.

"Mr. Gold. My man tells me you have something to trade," Keith Nottingham said with an oily smirk.

Rum was reminded even more forcibly of a rat, his nose twitching as he scented new prey. But he refused to show how nervous he was. "I do. I have here three gallons of whiskey. Or a vial of my elixir." He showed Nottingham the bottles.

"In return for what?"

"A stake at a card game." Rum replied without missing a beat.

"Oh? How much?"

"Five hundred dollars. Gold."

"You think your elixir is worth that much?"

"I do." He met the other's gaze inscrutably. "It's the only cure for the plague."

"Hmm." Nottingham considered. "All right. Done!" He slapped the other's hand with his.

Rumple fought to keep from wiping it down his trousers.

Then he waited for Nottingham to give him his money before he handed him the elixir.

Now he had a cover, he would simply have to wait till the right time to find his way to the back entrance and let Stefan in.

A/N: Hope you all liked! Next up-Rum finds more than he bargained for in Esmerelda's, and more danger than he expected.

Also, my story Beautiful Enemies has been nominated for Fanatic Fanfic Awards and voting starts on April u/7716212/