That evening, after supper, Teresa did talk to Murdoch about the brocade from Burl. Murdoch was suitably surprised, and impressed.

Charlie could tell, by the way he raised his eyebrows when he looked it over, and held a bit of it between his fingers.

"This is quite valuable," he said.

"I know," Teresa said. "When he said he wanted to give it to Charlie and I, to have dresses made, well, that changed things."

"I can see that it would," Murdoch said.

Charlie didn't see. She didn't understand.

"Why does it change things?" she asked, from her seat beside Scott on the settee. "It just means that there's a lot of it to sell, right?"

"No, Charlie," Teresa said. "Somehow it doesn't feel right, now, to sell it."

"But Burl needs the money!" Charlie protested.

"He gave it to us, though," Teresa said. "He wants you and I to use it."

"But, I don't need a fancy dress like that," Charlie said. Reasonably, she thought.

Teresa sighed, looking tired.

Murdoch sat down in the chair behind the desk, leaning back.

"I just wanted to talk to you about it first," Teresa was saying. "Before we attempted any sale, I mean."

Murdoch nodded, looking thoughtful.

"Sell some, and use some for yourselves," Johnny pointed out, from his chair across the room.

"Simple, but doable," Murdoch said.

"Would it be right to sell any of it, though?" Teresa persisted. "When he thinks he was giving it as a gift to us?"

"You wouldn't be selling it for your own gain," Scott said. "It's to profit Burl for what he needs."

Teresa smiled at Scott. "That's right. I guess I hadn't thought of it that way. Thank you, Scott."

Charlie linked her arm thru Scott's, feeling pride. Teresa could have a dress made, and then the rest could be sold,

since she herself didn't need any more dresses. Problem solved.

"I was thinking, though," Teresa went on. "The dress shops in Stockton or somewhere else, might be able to pay more than

the store here can. Bigger city, so bigger purchasing budget."

"That's true," Murdoch said, in agreement.

"I could take some of it, on the train, and see what I can find out," Teresa said.

"To Stockton?" Murdoch asked.

"To start with," Teresa verified.

"I think that's a good idea," Scott said, in support.

Teresa gave Scott a smile, and turned to Murdoch. "What do you think, Murdoch? I could go tomorrow, or the next day. I could

stay overnight, and see what I can find out."

"Alright, sweetheart," Murdoch agreed. "You make your arrangements, and I'll go along with you."

"Will you?" Teresa asked, looking pleased. "You and I haven't gone together in a long while."

"Well, we'll go now," Murdoch said, indulgently. "We'll have supper, somewhere fancy, while we're there."

Teresa leaned down and gave Murdoch a hug around his neck. "Thank you."

L

Murdoch and Teresa set out mid-morning the next day, with the brocade carefully packed in brown wrapping.

Maria set Charlie to picking from the garden, and when she'd finished that, it was time for the noon meal, after which Maria

planned to set off for her sister's to help with the care of her niece's newborn.

Charlie ate her roast beef sandwich, and nibbled at her carrot sticks, listening to Scott and Johnny talk about work

around the ranch.

"What are you going to do this afternoon?" Scott asked Charlie.

Charlie considered. The unexpected freedom made the possibilities immense.

"I could come with you and Johnny. And help," Charlie suggested.

"You could," Scott agreed. "You could also work on your arithmetic and handwriting."

Charlie stopped, her fork halfway to her mouth, to give him an aghast glance. "Aw, Scott-" she began, and

then she saw his grin.

"You're teasing," she said, smiling back at him.

They went on talking, then, more about ranching work.

Charlie waited until they were nearly finished, and pushing their plates away.

"I'll do the dishes," she said, and Scott said, "Good girl."

As they got to their feet, scooting in their chairs, Charlie said, "After I do them, could I ride Gurth to town?"

Scott paused, and looked serious.

"What for?"

"Well," Charlie hesitated, with both Scott and Johnny's eyes on her. "I was thinking I might go to the jail, to see how Burl is."

"Ah," Scott said, with a nod, not looking surprised.

"I'm worried about him," Charlie admitted. "Mr. Val was going to try to explain to him, about the owner putting him out. I'm afraid

that he won't understand."

"That's adult business, Charlie," Scott said, seriously.

"I know," Charlie said, earnestly. "I just want to visit him for a little while."

"To the jail to see Burl, and that's all, hmm?" Scott asked her.

Charlie nodded her head vigorously.

"We'll be close by, working, won't we?" Scott asked, looking to Johnny.

"Near enough," Johnny said.

"Alright," Scott said. "You can go into town, and go and see Burl." At Charlie's smile, he continued, "Don't get in Val's way, if he

has things to do. And, be home by three o'clock. We'll be out in the west pasture. Ride out there when you get back, so I know that you're

home safely."

"I will. I promise," Charlie said.

L

After she was left alone, in the big house, and had done up the dishes, Charlie hung the dishcloth carefully, and went

out to saddle her horse.

She enjoyed her ride into town, and, once there, she tied Gurth out front of the jail. The front door was open, and Charlie burst

thru. Val was there, a broom in his hand, sweeping up what looked to be pieces of glass. There were papers thrown about

as well, and a general disarray.

"Hullo," Charlie said, standing at the doorway.

"Hey, there," Val said, in reply, as he continued sweeping.

Charlie stepped closer, and Val ushered her to the side. "Careful. Step the other way. There's broken glass."

"What happened?" Charlie asked.

"It's what's left of my lamp," Val said, dryly.

Charlie went to fetch the dustpan, and brought it over to him. Val took it, and crouched down. "I'll do it," he said. "I don't want

you to get cut."

When he'd swept up the bits of glass, he poured it into the dust bin, and then set the broom in the corner. When he

began to pick up the papers across the floor, Charlie went to help.

Charlie had the sinking feeling that she knew what had caused the wreckage of the jail office. Helping to stack the papers,

she asked, "Was it Burl that did it?"

"Yes, ma'm," Val said, sounding grim.

"Where is he?" Charlie asked, then, feeling worried.

"Here, I'll take those," Val said, taking the papers she held, and taking them over to the desk. "He's in the back, there," he said,

with a nod towards the cells.

"Oh," Charlie said, and began to head that way.

"Charlie, just hold on," Val said, and Charlie paused, looking back at him.

"Come here a minute," he said. He'd stacked the papers in a pile, and half-sat on his desk, lighting a rolled cigarette

from his pocket.

Charlie came over to stand beside him, and Val gestured to his desk chair. "Sit down there," he ordered.

Charlie sat, feeling tense. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I want to talk to you, before you go back there to see him," Val said.

"He got real upset this morning, and he managed to break a few things before I got hold of the situation," Val continued.

"Was he upset about his shack, and not going back there?" Charlie asked.

"That and some other things."

"Are you angry at him, because he broke your lamp?" Charlie asked.

Val sighed. "No, Charlie, I'm not angry with him."

"Can I go back and talk to him now?" Charlie asked.

"You can. I want you to know first, that the cell door is closed. And, I want it to stay that way for the time being."

Charlie wrinkled her forehead, puzzled. "How come?"

"Because he's a ornery old rascal, and I had some things to tend to this morning. I couldn't do those things, with

him acting out, so, for his own safety, and everybody else's, he's sitting in a locked cell."

"How long does he have to stay locked up?" Charlie asked.

"I haven't rightly decided that yet. I reckon it depends on how much he settles down by this evening."

Charlie was looking at Val, a range of emotions crossing her face.

"So, you can go and talk with him. But, I don't think you should expect too much. He probably won't answer at all, but if he does,

and he gets to caterwauling, then I'm going to have you come back out here. Alright?" Val said.

Charlie nodded, and Val said, "Alright," again, and moved to go and pour himself a cup of coffee. Charlie went

towards the back of the jail, towards the cells. She went at it slowly, nibbling at her lower lip in apprehension.

When she rounded the corner, she saw that Burl was sitting on his cot, staring at the opposite wall.

Charlie paused. "Hello, Burl," she said.

True to what Val had said, Burl was silent, not even looking up at her.

Charlie was determined to make him speak. She stepped to the cell door, and wrapped her fingers around the bars.

"Hello," she said, again, louder this time.

Silence. No recognition.

"I came to visit you. And see how you were doing," Charlie said.

"Quite a sight, ain't it?" Burl said, not looking up.

"What?" Charlie asked him, not understanding what he meant.

"Come to see an old man locked up? I reckon that's an entertainin' sight, sure enough."

Not sure how to proceed, Charlie hesitated, and then pulled one of the wooden chairs over closer to the cell door, and

sat down.

Abruptly, the old man said, "Is it unpleasant warm outside?"

"It's warm, but it's not too bad," Charlie said. "It's not unpleasant."

"Did you and that sister of yours decide what colors you're fixin' to use, on your dresses?'

Charlie didn't correct Burl's confused assumption about Teresa being her sister.

Charlie knew that Teresa had put back some of the darker blue, and then a lighter blue, of the brocade, to keep for herself

and for Charlie, although Charlie had told her there was no need. The rest had been taken to Stockton this morning, to try to be sold.

"Um, dark blue, and light blue," Charlie told him.

"I would have thought you'd want some of the yellow," Burl said.

"What's your favorite color?" Charlie asked him, to get him talking about something besides the brocade.

"I'm partial to red myself."

And then, in an abrupt turn, Burl asked, "What color would your mother like of it? Be sure to offer her some."

So Burl thought she had a mother? Charlie tried to remember just what it was that she'd told Burl, about her family. She knew

that she'd let him believe that Murdoch was her grandfather. That Scott was her father.

"My mother died. A long time ago," Charlie said.

"Did she? Well, my own mother died when I was a wee one myself."

And then, again, another change. Burl turned to face her, and his eyes were clear, not cloudy.

"You'll do some good with it," he said. "Beware of charlatans. And those who want to take it from you."

"Take what?" Charlie asked.

"When you're older. There'll be many people that you can help," Burl said.

Charlie met his eyes, and felt a chill go down her back. What was he talking about? It was almost as though-no, it couldn't be.

It seemed as though he was speaking of her inheritance. But, how could he know about it? She'd never told him.

And then, Burl smiled, showing his blackened teeth. "I'm sleepy now." And, he laid down on the cot, and closed his eyes.

L

Charlie sat for a couple of minutes, watching as Burl drifted off into sleep. At first she thought he might just be pretending to

sleep, so as to get her to leave, and not pester him. She disregarded that thought, though, when Burl seemed to actually be asleep.

She stood up, and returned the chair to its spot against the wall. She stood a moment or so longer, looking at the old man.

Then she wandered back to the outer office. Val was sitting at his desk, busily writing on a paper, and when Charlie came to

stand near the desk, he said, without looking up, "Have your talk with him?"

"Uh huh. He's asleep now." Charlie said.

"I imagine he needs the rest," Val said, dryly.

Charlie went to the window, to look out at the passersby on the street. Then she came back closer to the desk, reaching down to pick

up a pencil. She laid it down on the desk, and then stood, silently.

Finally, Val laid down his pen, and sat back in his chair a bit, surveying her. "Something on your mind, J.C.?" he asked, knowingly.

"I'm just wondering-" she began slowly, "What's to happen to Burl? Where is supposed to go, to live?"

"Doc and I are talking over some things," Val said. "Burl is not just going to be tossed out, with nowhere to sleep, or live. Something

will be done."

"Like what?" Charlie asked, eagerly.

"Nothing definite that I want to get into right now, with you. Have a little faith."

"I wish you could open the cell door," Charlie said, looking at him out of sad brown eyes. "He-"

And then, Val gave her a long look, and said, "Charlie," in a warning way. Charlie stopped talking to look at him. "You can come visit Burl here, because I know that

you think a lot of him. And, you can help him in whatever ways that Murdoch, or Scott or Teresa allow you to do. But, here at the jail,

I have the say-so. I already explained to you that I'll open that cell door when I think it's safe, and when I think it's right."

Subdued by his words and tone, Charlie was silent. Her gaze, though not accusatory, was somewhat reproachful.

"And you can stop looking at me like that, too," Val said. "You hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Charlie said.

After that, for a few long minutes, it was silent in the jail. Val went on with his paperwork, and Charlie felt sort of adrift. She supposed

she could get started back home, but she didn't want to leave with things not quite right between her and Mr. Val. She took his

coffee cup, and went to the stove, touching the pot, and then refilled it, to the brim, and carried it over to the desk. She set it down

carefully, to the side of his papers.

"Thank you," Val said, and then he looked up. He reached out and picked up the cup, and took a drink of the steaming coffee.

He smiled at Charlie, and she smiled back. "I guess I'll go now," she said. "Scott said to be home by three o'clock."

Val looked at the clock on the wall. "It's after two, now," he verified. "You probably should be getting on."

"I hope Burl acts good for you now," Charlie said, still feeling awkward.

Val took her hand and pulled her over closer. "Burl will be just fine," he said, sounding certain.

Charlie nibbled at her lower lip and nodded.

"Maybe I can come back tomorrow," she said, hopefully.

"Well, we'll see you then," Val said.

L

Outside, in the brightness of the sunshine, Charlie stood, contemplating. She thought she might go over to get some

jelly beans, to take home and share with Murdoch. In the mercantile, she didn't have to wait long. There weren't many customers.

She got the jelly beans, and then, on her way out of the store, she nearly bumped into the doctor as he came in.

The doctor said, "Excuse me there, young lady," and stepped around Charlie.

Charlie paused, outside on the sidewalk, and contemplated some more. She thought, if he didn't take too long inside

the store, that she might talk to the doctor for a few minutes about Burl.

She was still standing there, when the doctor came out. Doctor Burton, that was his name. Since she'd been here,

with Scott and the family, she hadn't needed to see a doctor. So, she'd never actually met him, only seen him around

town and all.

As he moved to go past her, and walk on, Charlie said, "Doctor Burton?"

He paused and looked down at her. "Yes?"

"I was wondering-if I could talk to you, if you weren't too busy."

"Are you feeling ill, young lady?" he asked.

"No. I just wanted to talked to you," Charlie said.

"Well, I think I have a spare few minutes," he said, with a smile. "Would you like to talk here, or at my office?"

"At your office. Please," Charlie said, thinking that it should be at the doctor's office, so as to be professional, and so

he would take her seriously.

"Well, alright then," Doctor Burton said. "Off we go."

At the office, he ushered Charlie in ahead of him, and then went to set down his parcel on a desk overloaded with papers, and medicine

bottles.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to a chair, and Charlie sat down. He took the top off a tall container, which held candy, mostly peppermint

sticks. "Have some candy."

Charlie took out one of the peppermint sticks. "Thank you," she said.

The doctor set the container down, and took one out for himself. "I have a sweet tooth, myself," he said.

Charlie smiled, thinking she quite liked the man. "So do I," she admitted.

"Now," he said, taking a chair opposite her. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if we could talk about Burl."

"The old fellow?"

Charlie nodded. "He's my friend," she said simply, and the doctor gave her an approving glance.

"You're not of the majority, then, who consider him to be a mystery? A nuisance and an oddity?"

Charlie sat up very straight in the chair. "He's mysterious," she admitted. "But I don't think he's a nuisance, or an oddity. I think folks

just don't understand him, is all. If they got to know him better, then they'd see that he's a good person."

The doctor looked thoughtful, and then he asked, "What's your name, young lady?"

"Charlie Bays."

"I don't believe that I'm familiar with any of the Bays folks-" he began.

"I don't have any-Bays people here. I'm from Stockton. I'm living with the Lancers."

"Ah. Now, there's a name that I do know," he said. "How long have you been living with them?"

"I met Scott-well, all of them, about six months ago. But, I've been living with them about four months now."

"I see. Well, I didn't know. It's very nice to meet you. Charlie, you say?"

"Yes. Charlotte, really, but I like Charlie better."

"Well, what did you want to discuss about Burl with me?" he asked.

"Mr. Val said you were reading up about things. I wondered if you knew what makes him the way that he is. So confused

sometimes. Some people think it's because he's old."

"But, you don't think that that's what it is, hmm?" the doctor asked her.

"I don't know. Sometimes-he's not confused at all. It's like-he's two people, almost."

"Yes. That's an accurate way to describe it," the doctor said. "Sometimes, in people like Burl, who show the symptoms of

confusion, alternated with clarity, they are diagnosed with melancholy, or mania. Melancholy is a way of saying sadness, a great sadness

that is overwhelming for the person, nearly despondent. Mania is a burst of sudden energy, heightened by thinking that you're capable

of nearly anything."

Charlie thought that over, and said, "Burl's not melancholy, though. Not really. He doesn't laugh or smile much, but he doesn't seem like

what you said-"

"Despondent," the doctor supplied.

"Yes. He doesn't seem that. He likes to hunt, and be with his dogs, and carve things. And he can sew. He was a tailor, in Ireland."

"You've learned a great deal about him," the doctor said.

Charlie nodded. "So does he have to have that melancholy, then?"

"No." The doctor sighed a bit. "Nor the mania, necessarily. It's the label that's attached, when that's all that's available.

I'm afraid that not much is known about all the workings of the human mind. Many more studies need to be completed before there's a true understanding.

And before we can really help people. Like Burl."

"Oh," Charlie said. "So-there's not really any way to help him, then?"

"To help him in the context of fixing him, so that's he's not so blatantly unusual, then no, not really."

"Oh," Charlie said, again.

"It's discouraging, isn't it?" the doctor asked her. "It is for me, as well."

Charlie nodded, and smiled at the doctor. She found that she quite liked him.

"I'd better go," she said, getting to her feet.

The doctor stood, as well. "It's been a pleasure, conversing with you," he said, and Charlie thought how he treated her as

if she had sense, and not as if she were only a kid.

L