With no school in session, Charlie was kept busy enough around the hacienda. She did extra chores to help Maria, and played with

the two pups, and spent time swinging as high as possible on the outdoor swing.

Scott assigned her handwriting to do and she finished that after lunch, after which she drew in her sketchbook for a bit.

She was sitting at the piano, struggling thru a piece of unfamiliar sheet music, when she heard boot steps, and

turned on the spinning piano stool.

"Don't stop, darling," Murdoch said, going to sit in a chair to the right of the piano. "Please continue playing."

"I'm not so very good on this piece," Charlie said. "Maybe I can play something else for you. Something I know a lot better."

"Whatever you like," Murdoch said, smiling at her.

So, Charlie launched into a piece that she knew from memory. A jaunty tune that had Murdoch's toe tapping.

When she finished, Murdoch said, "Spectacular," and Charlie gave him a dimpled smile.

"Come and sit with me," Murdoch told her.

Charlie went to sit beside him in the large chair.

"Tell me what you've been doing today to occupy yourself," he said.

Charlie rattled off her activities, and then sprang up. "I'll get my sketchbook," she told him. When she came back

from the hall table, carrying her sketchbook, she took her seat beside him, again.

"You've been drawing?" Murdoch asked, and Charlie nodded.

Murdoch turned the pages of the sketches, to the last two. "Are these what you did today?" he asked.

After that, they discussed the drawings for a few minutes, and Charlie handed him one of the drawing pencils.

"Will you draw something for me?" she asked.

"What would you like me to draw?"

"Whatever you want," Charlie said.

"Well, let me see," Murdoch said, looking contemplative. He began to draw, then, shading here and there, and Charlie watched

in awe as a picture came from those pencil strokes.

"It's Teresa," Charlie said, looking at the picture of a girl, with long hair that was blowing to one side, and a hand raised

as if to shade her eyes from the sun.

"Yes. It is."

"You're so talented," Charlie said.

"Thank you, darling. I think you're a fine artist, as well."

When Scott tucked Charlie into bed that night, he admired the pictures that she'd drawn that day, and read to her

a bit longer from their most recent book.

Charlie was tucked up into bed, when she asked about the next day.

"Tomorrow's Tuesday," she reminded him, quietly. She didn't want to seem as though she was wheedling.

"Is it?" Scott asked, looking amused. "Let's see, yesterday was Sunday-today was Monday-well, what do you know? You're correct."

Charlie smiled at his joshing.

"You said that on Tuesday that I might be able to visit Burl," Charlie said.

"I did say that," he said. "And, you've done well, the last couple of days, doing other things to stay busy. Murdoch really

enjoyed hearing you play the piano, I know." He looked down at Charlie's expectant face. "You can visit him tomorrow," he said, giving

permission. "When were you thinking about going? Morning or afternoon?"

"The morning," Charlie said, eagerly.

"Alright. We'll see if anybody else needs to go to town for anything in the morning, to go along with you."

"What if nobody does need to go?" Charlie asked, worried that Scott might withdraw his permission.

"Then, you'd likely be able to ride in by yourself, as long as you just went to the jail, and not go out scouting around

for Burl, if he's not there."

"I promise I wouldn't," Charlie said, sincerely.

Lancer

At breakfast the next morning, discussing Charlie's trip into town to visit Burl, Johnny said he would accompany her.

"I've got some other things to do in town," he said. "A couple of things I need at the store. I can ride along with

the kid."

That suited Charlie. She liked having Johnny all to herself.

"Alright, pequeno?" he asked, looking to Charlie.

"Yes!" Charlie said, smiling at him.

Johnny finished up the couple of things that he needed to do before leaving, and Charlie got both horses saddled

in the meantime.

Riding into town, side by side, at a leisurely pace, Charlie cast a look to her right at Johnny.

"Can I ask you something, Johnny?"

"You can ask me anything, kid. I don't guarantee that I'll answer, though," he said, and gave her a grin.

"You know how Burl is, sometimes, right?"

"What particular trait of the old scutter are ya talkin' about?" he asked.

"Sometimes it's almost like he knows things about a person. Something that he wasn't told beforehand." Charlie watched

Johnny, and saw by the expression on his face that he knew exactly what she was talking about. Charlie remembered the day

that Burl had spoken so strangely to Johnny at the shack, about how Johnny hadn't been meant to open a door, when he'd been

a child. How he shouldn't feel guilty, because there was nothing that he could have done. Naught. That was the word that Burl had used.

"I know what ya mean," Johnny said, though he said no more after that.

"He did it to me, just like he did to you," Charlie said. "He said that I would be able to help people, when I'm older, and it

was like he knew about the gold mine money I'll inherit."

Johnny was still silent, and Charlie said, "It makes me feel-sort of strange inside. Not scared, exactly. Just-strange."

"Does the same for me," Johnny said, in agreement.

"It does?"

At his nod, Charlie asked, tentatively, "I think he meant the money, by what he said to me. What do you think he

meant by what he said to you?"

Johnny gave her a swift look, and then looked as though he was considering. Charlie could tell he wasn't certain about

answering her. At least with the truth.

"It seems as though he was talkin' about somethin' that happened when I was a kid," Johnny said. He leaned back

in the saddle a bit. "My mother had taken up with this hombre-with this one man," he amended. "He was a mean

one. Drunk or sober, he was mean. He used to hit her a lot." Johnny sighed. "I wasn't much older than you are at the time. Sometimes,

he'd take her in another room, and lock the door, and I could hear him slappin' her around."

Charlie, listening, found it hard to swallow. Hearing Johnny tell the story, she could tell it still caused him hurt.

"I'm sorry, Johnny," she said. She didn't know what else to say.

Johnny looked at her again. He gave a slight smile. A sad smile.

"I've always wished I'd been older, bigger," he said. "Then I might have been able to do somethin' to help her."

"There was naught that you could do," Charlie said, softly. "That's what Burl said."

"Yeah. That's what he said."

"Do you think-that he really can know things, Johnny?"

Johnny sighed again. "I don't know, pequeno," he said. "To be honest, nothin' about that old man surprises me anymore."

Lancer

At the front of the jail, they dismounted, and tied the horses to the railing in the front.

"I've got a couple of things to do, but I'll go in and say hello first," Johnny said.

Charlie nodded, glad that he was coming in with her first. Inside, just ahead of Johnny a bit, Charlie saw

Val sitting at his desk.

Charlie smiled at him, genuinely glad to see him. She'd gotten very fond of the Val over the past months.

"Hey there," Val said, standing, and walking towards them. He seemed almost to be 'herding' the two of them back.

"Let's step out here," Val said, gesturing to the door that Johnny hadn't had the opportunity to close as yet.

There were voices from the back of the jail, at the cells, and Charlie wanted to pause and listen, but Val

had hustled them out onto the sidewalk, and pulled the door closed behind.

Val preempted Charlie's question, by looking down at her, and saying, "He's alright, Charlie. The doctor's with him right

now."

"Did he get upset again?" Charlie asked, looking up at Val with her forehead crinkled in worry.

"Yeah. He did. Not even certain what he was upset about this time."

"Oh," Charlie said, quietly.

"I thought we'd give Doc a few minutes longer with him, and then maybe you can visit with him," Val told her.

"Okay," Charlie said, tremulously. She couldn't help but feel that Val was trying his best to not tell her more than

he had to.

"Let's go on to the store, and then we'll come back after awhile, alright, pequeno?" Johnny said.

Charlie nodded, and walked with Johnny down the sidewalk towards the mercantile.

Inside the store, she didn't wander around as she usually did, but stayed close to Johnny, as he purchased a pair

of leather gloves, and a sack of peanuts. When he'd paid, he stuffed the gloves into his pocket, and said,

"I told Murdoch I'd check the mail while we're in town."

"Okay," Charlie said, and followed him, yet again, across the street to the post office.

After Johnny had collected the mail, he stood on the sidewalk, sifting thru it.

"Nothin' much," he said, and then looked down at Charlie.

"How about somethin' cold to drink?" he offered.

Charlie nodded, and they went into the café, finding an empty table. When the waitress approached them, Johnny

looked at Charlie in question. "Lemonade?" he asked. "Or root beer?"

"Root beer," Charlie said, and then added, belatedly, "Please."

"Two root beers," Johnny told the waitress.

When she'd walked away, Johnny looked at Charlie, and when she met his eyes, he said, quietly, "What's wrong, pequeno?"

"I just wish-that Burl wasn't like he is. I mean, I like him a lot. But, he just gets so strange. And, I don't know how to help him."

"You've helped him," Johnny said, sounding definite. "Probably more than anybody has in a long, long time."

"Thanks, Johnny," Charlie said, taking it for the high praise that it was.

"It's the truth," he said.

"I don't understand-why he's alright at one time, and then he's not."

"I know," Johnny said, sounding regretful. "It's hard to take in. I don't understand it, either."

"I think he's really smart, though. Don't you, Johnny?"

"I have no doubt that he's smart."

Their root beers were brought and set before them, and Charlie took a long drink. The taste of it was still something

she wasn't accustomed to.

"Was your mother nice?" she asked Johnny, on an impulse.

Johnny nodded slightly. "She was. Was yours?"

"Yes," Charlie said. "She was sick a lot, but when she felt alright, she'd sing sometimes. That was nice."

"My mother used to sing sometimes, too," Johnny said, and gave Charlie a half-smile. For the moment, they were united

in the past. In separate memories, yes, but still united.

Lancer

When they'd finished their drinks and walked back to the jail, Johnny cautioned Charlie at the door.

"If ya can't talk with Burl today, then that's the way it is, pequeno. I mean, if he's still upset and all. Alright?"

Charlie nodded, and met his eyes, resolving to herself that she wouldn't disappoint him by behaving badly.

Val was, again, sitting at his desk when they went in. The doctor was sitting on a chair just to the side.

The men exchanged greetings with Johnny, and then the doctor smiled at Charlie.

"I'll go now," he said, and stood up, picking up his black supply bag. "I'll be back later to check on him again."

He paused beside Charlie. "He may seem quite strange today. He seems lost in the past. He's agitated."

"Maybe she ought not to visit with him, you think?" Johnny asked.

"I see no harm in it, as long it doesn't bother Charlie," the doctor said.

"It won't bother me," Charlie said.

The doctor nodded, and went out.

Charlie looked at Johnny. "Can I go back now?"

Johnny looked at Val, and then he said, "Alright. I'll go back with ya."

"He won't hurt me, Johnny," she said, in mild protest. "You don't need to worry."

Johnny didn't respond to that statement. He just motioned with his hand towards the cells, and followed along behind

Charlie.

Burl was sitting on a straight-backed chair, pulled right up to the front one of the trunks. He was sifting thru the items.

Charlie went into the opened cell door, and stood beside the chair. "Hullo, Burl," she greeted him.

Burl raised his eyes to take her in. He looked, to Charlie, as though he hadn't slept, and his forehead was wrinkled in

puzzlement. He looked away, again, back to the contents of the trunk.

Charlie looked up at Johnny, and Johnny gave a regretful shake of his dark head, both of them in sad agreement that

Burl was confused as to their identity.

Charlie went to sit on the edge of the cot, while Johnny leaned in the doorway of the cell. There was silence there, for a

few minutes, and then Burl spoke. "Come here, and see this."

Charlie hesitated, not sure if he meant her or Johnny. When Johnny gave her a nod, Charlie stood up, and took the

few steps to stand beside the chair. Burl reached out a shaky hand and pulled at Charlie's hand.

"Sit here with me," he said.

Charlie sank down to the floor beside the chair where Burl was sitting.

Burl held a small album, with what looked like brown leaves on the top of it. He opened it slowly, almost carefully,

and then began pointing out things in some of the photographs enclosed.

"This was Lettie and me," he said, pointing to one of a small boy and girl. The boy held what passed for a fishing pole, and

the little girl was laughing, and, peeking out from the hem of her skirt, her feet were barefoot.

"She never did want anyone to see her without her shoes on," Burl said, sounding as though he was far away. "Her governess

took this picture of us, and then right afterward, scolded Lettie good for showing her bare feet that way."

"Was it wrong to be barefooted in front of folks then?" Charlie asked, and Burl smiled.

"Oh my, yes, it was. It wasn't ladylike, ya know. Lettie hated wearin' her shoes, though, when it was warm out. She said

the grass just fairly called to her to walk barefooted in it." Burl paused, looking from the photograph to Charlie's face. "You look

like her, ya know."

"Do I?" Charlie asked, looking at the photograph closer to see if she agreed to resembling the mysterious Lettie.

"Ah. When she was younger, like in this photograph," Burl affirmed.

"Johnny, look," Charlie said, turning the album so that he could see. Johnny stepped closer.

"What do ya think, young fella? They do look alike, don't they?" Burl asked him.

"They do," Johnny said. "A bit."

"You remind me of her, in other ways, too," Burl went on.

"I do?" Charlie asked, curious.

"The way you're always tearin' about, intent on a new adventure," Burl said. "Lettie was that way."

Charlie was just about to ask just who Lettie had been to Burl, when he began to point to other pictures. There was Lettie,

sitting on some sort of tall wall made of stones, again shoeless; and another of her standing tall, and regal looking, dressed in a

ball gown and wearing what looked like a tiara in her hair. In the last photo, though, Lettie was not laughing. Charlie realized that

in every other picture she'd seen of Lettie, whether very young, or as a teenager, she had her head tossed back in laughter.

In this one, though, she looked not only serious, but almost sad, Charlie thought.

"I'm weary now," Burl said, with a suddenness that caught Charlie off guard. He put the album into her hands, and stood up,

going to the cot and lying down. He turned his back to them, and went suddenly still, as if asleep nearly immediately.

Lancer