Gemma walked down the street lazily as had become her habit in the past months. The town of Four Corners, so happy to welcome and embrace her husband continued a cold shoulder approach when it came to her. She enjoyed teasing and taunting the self-appointed propriety guardians who had no choice but to extend the courtesy to her when she was with Mr Monterrey, but they paid back with added venom when she was unaccompanied. Gemma called it frozen virility when she told Montgomery about all the ways the town ladies and many so called gentlemen went out of their way to ignore her presence or participation in conversation. Montgomery found it amusing and reacted with a pleasing balance of disbelief and pronouncements of alliance.

Recently however, these private displays of affection and support didn't reassure Gemma as they once had. She would never admit it to anyone, including herself, but the town had succeeded in making her feel isolated and out of place. After walking Montgomery to the hotel, she would make her way to the other end of the town, circle the church and idly make her way back home. If Josiah was there she would stay awhile chatting cheerfully or helping with minor repairs if he was working inside the church. On Saturdays she would help sweep the floors and church benches in preparation for the steadily increasing flock that the unofficial preacher was gathering to the house of the Lord.

But even that solace would not be granted by the righteous residents. A pointed look here, a spiteful word there and Gemma became wary of hurting Josiah's cause by association. Her visits became shorter and shorter until she only offered a quiet greeting before continuing on. Her walks increasingly began to feel like a sort of penance around the Stations of the Cross for the sins she tried to arrive to in lengthy musings.

This is how walking to town with her husband every day become some days then once a week until her absence became the norm and she felt less and less comfortable showing her face at all.

Lost in thought, Gemma was passing by the saloon, a place she normally avoided in order not to run into her brother-in-law or worse the gambler that she shared a colourful past with. As the door swung open, she held her breath and was relieved by the sight of the large elderly man who didn't move from the threshold.

"Sister Gemma," Josiah started. She gave him a genuine smile in greeting.

"A word."

Gemma opened her mouth to politely decline, but Josiah was in one of his more frevent moods.

"A drink," he baited her in her confusion.

Gemma glanced toward the inside of the saloon longingly. She was in the mood for a drink but feared meeting…

"He's not in town," Josiah stopped her train of thought.

Gemma raised an eyebrow and eyed the mature man who was still holding the door for her carefully. It wasn't Josiah's habit to impose himself on others in such a manner. Her caution gave way to intrigue and she couldn't fight off the rising urge to indulge him.

This was Gemma's biggest failing in the eyes of the world - giving in to her urges. Gemma above all things desired to enjoy life. It was this passion that attracted her supporters and alliananted her enemies. But it was an answer that wouldn't appear no matter how much time she dedicated to musing on her shortcomings. And right at that moment, enjoying her life meant whiskey and lots of it so with a conspiratory grin on her face, the young woman lowered her head and walked first into the dark saloon.

"But you're paying," she added as she entered. Josiah's face twitched into a smile before he followed.

"Lord, have mercy," he said to himself. "I'm gonna pay, alright."

"A what dance?"

"A Harvest Dance," Josiah repeated the words that Gemma was new to.

The couple were on their second drink, Josiah taking his time to lure the young woman into his plan.

"Was the Mud Dance taken?" Gemma rolled her eyes.

Josiah regarded her carefully.

"Or how about Rain-Season Dance? Slaughter at Noon? Preserves Waltz?"

"Gemma Connolly," he warned her.

"Monterrey," she corrected mechanically. The action drew her into her thoughts. She was trying to understand why Josiah was suggesting organising a dance with her.

"I'm surprised you let your husband keep his own name, let alone take his," Josiah teased her.

Gemma threw him a conspicuous look and they downed their glasses to mischief.

"Just give me a chance to explain, I'm begging you."

The words cut Gemma where she'd hoped she'd gone numb by now. She looked at the preacher apologetically.

"You shouldn't beg, Josiah. I'm sorry." Grief entered her words now. "Many places have seasonal celebrations. And what better excuse than to celebrate the end of torturous labour," she spoke adding more liquid to their empty glasses.

"Does the idea displease you so much, sister?" Josiah was confused. He would have bet Ezra his year's wages that Gemma would jump at the opportunity to organise such a large gathering. It was an amalgamate of everything that she seemed to love: fun, food and people. She liked to entertain and she liked to be congratulated, although Josiah would never put it so bluntly to her.

He took her in carefully once more. Was it the people she was so uncertain about? Homo homini lupus, after all. He didn't blame her completely. She tried in her own way to keep the appearance of a respectful wife but was too easily distracted and unnerved for the townsfolk to give her the benefit of the doubt. Before she'd left, she was too untamed and unapologetic to stomach. Now that she was back, she was too fortunate in husband and means not to inspire envy.

"And if nobody shows up?" her fears nudged him from thought. "People around here don't like me very much."

"The proceeds will go towards the church," Josiah explained like it made a difference. He hadn't considered pack mentality previously.

Gemma looked at him with a squint. He felt that she was measuring him up.

"People around here don't like you much either," she pressed out evenly.

Josiah scrutinised the young woman sitting next to him for the longest time holding her gaze until it dawned on him. They were weighing each other up. Could they pull this off? was the question on their minds. Gemma released her mouth into a smile first and Josiah instinctively followed. It was as he had predicted. Gemma Connelly-Monterrey always rose to the challenge and was up for some fun in the name of charity. They touched their glasses conspiratorially and downed the amber liquid. They understood they were going to need as much Dutch courage as they could stomach. Josiah lifted the bottle to refill the glasses and the pair continued plotting and drinking until they couldn't speak anymore.