The saloon looked full to bursting tonight. Perhaps the spell of cool rain had put everyone in the mood for games and booze; or maybe the summer heat had just driven everyone into a frenzy. No matter the reason, Lily wasn't about to complain. With her last wink, she tucked another gold coin away into the security of her bosom. She didn't always choose to work the floor, but she'd felt in the mood tonight. And if Lew happened to point out that her moods to work the floor often coincided with the nights that Ron worked the bar, then so be it. Ron didn't know how often she did or didn't work the floor while he was out on the trail.

"Come on, my purdy butterfly lady – kiss these'ere chips for luck." The red-bearded man stared up at her beaming smile as she bent at the waist, affording him a clear view down the front of her low-cut dress. The man hollered an excited whoop as she puckered her lips, pressing a kiss to the top chip of the stack in his hand. "Oh yes, ma'am – I got lady luck on my side tonight!"

"Yes, sir. I done my best."

"I got a good feeling, my l'il butterfly."

She giggled at the nickname, much to the man's delight. "Then you best not waste it!"

The man turned back to the table, laying out his chips on the cards of his choice. His other hand was occupied around her waist, holding her close to his side.

"New player coming up!" Bill Guarnere, the table banker, had an unmistakable Eastern drawl that he refused to lose. "Place your bets! Place your chips! See if you got what it takes to beat me!"

"You know it, sonny." The bearded man let loose a playful howl, tightening his hold to pull Lily in closer to his side. "With this lucky butterfly, I can't lose!"

"You chose wisely, sir." Bill encouraged. "Lily's the luckiest gal here tonight." He winked up at her and she nodded ever so subtly. Bill was a master at sleight of hand when he wanted to be. She knew that he would stack the deck for a couple of hands, really build up this man's confidence before starting to bleed him dry. Bill had done it countless times, all while keeping the trick at the table – engaged and entertained. That's probably why Dick liked him so much.

She laid a hand on the trick's shoulder in silent support as Bill laid out the cards, calling the numbers and suits to various hurrahs and guffaws around the table. And just as she expected, the trick with his arm around her waist came out way in front.

"Winner! We got a hot one over here!" Bill drawled, lazy and excited. "Be careful, sir, or you're liable to milk this place clean."

The trick hollered his excitement. "I just might, son! The night is young and I'm just getting started."

"Then, challenge accepted, my good man. What's your name, partner?"

"Call me Mervin. No – better'n that – call me Rockefeller.

"Ohh, yes'ir." Bill smirked with a laugh. "Gonna buy the man's railroad interests after you wipe me out here?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me!" The so-called Rockefeller looked up to her with a big smile. "Say, butterfly, how about you go get us some whiskey?"

She moved the hand from his shoulder up to caress his cheek lightly, watching his eyes darken in the low light. "Capital idea, Mr. Rockefeller. Shots or a bottle?"

"Hell, a bottle. I ain't gonna let luck this good get away from me."

"Then a bottle it is." She ran her index finger down the slope of his nose, playfully catching the end with her nail. "Wait for me?"

"Yes ma'am!" She giggled on his enthused response, removing herself from his arm to start walking for the bar. "You know, banker, that gal is the prettiest – you ever seen one look like a butterfly before…"

The rest of Rockefeller's words were swallowed up as she moved through the other tables and general din of the saloon. She didn't really think her dress of deep plum with dark green and light blue accents really made her look like a butterfly, but if it got Rockefeller to spend his money, then he could call her whatever he wanted. Her job was to create atmosphere, after all – a respite from the outside world of toil in this here oasis of booze, cards, and lavish affection.

She neared the bar, offering smiles to the different patrons that caught her gaze. Ron stood at the opposite corner, pulling the cork out of a brown bottle and splashing liquid down into a neat row of shot glasses. He said something to the man on the other side of the counter, offering a short shake of his head, lips quirked. Ron never did quite look comfortable with his front of the house duties. As private a man as he was, he probably felt too exposed. But still he pulled his shifts, same as every other member of Easy.

Maybe it was just her, but he looked notably good tonight. The striped shirt he wore beneath his dark gray vest looked new. His black long tie was tied neat at his throat, matching the black sleeve garters resting just above his elbows to keep his shirt cuffs dry. His hair had been combed neat into place before he started, but a few strands had come loose with time and exertion, sweeping rebelliously across his forehead. She'd always enjoyed running her hands through his thick hair, mussing it beyond any semblance of respectability.

Oh, what she wouldn't give to peel him out of all his layers tonight.

He caught her eye with a small nod as he pushed the full glasses forward, reaching out to accept payment. With a quick motion, he tossed the coins in the lockbox behind the bar and walked over towards her.

"What'll it be?" He asked, all serious business. It always brought a smile to her face to have his attention.

"A bottle of whiskey for my trick at Bill's table." She nodded over her shoulder, another whooping call of victory rising up.

"Sounds like a rowdy one." He reached to the back shelf for a new, unopened bottle.

"He's an alright sort. Confident. Calls me his butterfly."

His mouth tightened with the barest hint of concealed disgust as he set the bottle down between them. "So long as he follows the rules."

"You know I won't let him get away with anything less. Thanks for the bottle."

"Hey, barkeep! Fuck'er later – we're thirsty!" The boisterous call rose up from down the length of the bar, a flash of annoyance and forced amusement catching in Ron's eyes.

She winked as she pulled back from the bar, bottle in hand. It didn't take her long to thread back through the crowd, back to the thick-set Rockefeller.

"There ya are, butterfly!" Rockefeller's voice boomed over the din as she approached. "I was beginning to think that mean lookin' fella behind the bar had stolen you from me."

"Never." She reassured him, stepping up close and returning her unoccupied hand to his shoulder. "Why would I ever stay with someone so mean lookin' when I've got such better company right here? Your bottle, sir."

He took the bottle with a wide smile. "I'm thinking I'll hafta change my winged name for you from butterfly to angel." He tipped the bottle towards her in acknowledgement before taking a big pull. He smacked his lips with an exhale on the finish, holding it up to her. "Come on now, angel – don't make me drink alone."

"Very generous of you, sir." She wrapped her hand around his, again bending to afford him a good view as she took the rim of the bottle between her lips. She took a quick sip, licking her lips languorously. "Is the table still treatin' you right?"

"More'n right! Isn't that right, fella?"

"You wouldn't believe it, Lils." Bill said with a shake of his head. "Mr. Rockefeller here's nearly got me over a barrel. I'll be out on the street corner at this rate for dealing cards this favorably."

"My goodness!" She looked to Rockefeller with a twinkling smile. "Well, if that's the case, maybe I'll just hafta come work for you, Mr. Rockefeller."

"I wouldn't say no, ma'am!"

"Place your bets! Lay your chips!" Bill's call went up, and chips poured in from around the table. Rockefeller's arm slid back around her waist, pulling her in close as he took another swig of whiskey.

The cards were laid and played, the man's victory hoot jarring her as he celebrated another win. She wondered if he noticed that as he won his biggest bet, he also lost his two smaller bets. Probably not, what with the way Bill was carrying out about his win. But that's what made Bill so good at his job – he collected the house takings so smoothly, only focusing on the trick's winnings. He had found his true calling as a faro dealer.

"Got a hot streak! Got a winner!" Bill pulled the cards back in to shuffle again.

"I like the sound of that!" Rockefeller said through a hearty laugh, tipping the bottle back. "With m'angel at my side, I can't lose."

"Did I hear hot streak winner?" Lip's calm voice sounded over the din, infused with a warm joviality. They all had roles to play on the floor, and she recognized this as his. Along with the smart waistcoat, adorned with his pocket watch chain, and the smoking cigar held fast in his left hand.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lip." Bill said amicably, gesturing grandly across the table. "Meet Mr. Rockefeller. Gonna put us out of business soon at this rate."

"Mr. Rockefeller." Lip inclined his head in friendly greeting. "You look different than your picture in the papers."

"I know – I'm so much purdier than those pictures!" The man laughed uproarious at his own joke and Lip offered an appropriate laugh in response, as did Lily.

"Well, we're honored to have you here tonight, sir." Lip said.

"Bets! Place your bets! Any and all takers!" Bill sounded the call, and chips flew in.

"Another kiss, my angel?" Rockefeller held up a stack of four chips, and again she leaned over, bussing her lips over the wood chips to his delightful glee. He laid them down on the table right as Bill sounded his call.

"Turn time! Calling all final bets – call the turn!" He turned the last three cards, revealing an unfortunate selection of suits and numbers to a chorus of disappointed huffs.

"Hmm, that ain't been happenin'." Rockefller said, mouth upturned.

She leaned into this side, stroking his shoulder. "Oh, come now – you've been doing so great. You're not gonna let one little hand slow you down. I know for a fact your luck's been running better than that."

"Parish the thought, angel. I ain't gonna let this table defeat me none!" He pushed back in his chair, setting the bottle down and letting his arm fall from her back. "Keep my seat warm, will you?" He leaned in dangerously close, as if he was going to go for a kiss. "I gotta take a piss."

"I'll be right here when you get back." She made a show of dropping into his chair, wiggling against the seat before he turned to thread through the crowd.

"Break in play, gentlemen." Bill called out. "Break for nature. Break for booze." Slowly, the majority of the crowd assembled at the table started to disperse as Bill lazily shuffled the cards. She reached for the whiskey bottle, taking a quick pull.

"That's not yours." Lip loosely chided.

She snorted, setting the bottle back down. "I know, but he sure as hell doesn't need it. He's riding high enough as it is."

Bill chuckled a wicked little sound. "Doesn't even notice how much he's already lost."

"Don't take him for everything." Lip cautioned.

Bill looked up, affronted. "You know I'd never do that, sarge." Lip hummed noncommittally, taking a puff of his cigar as she chuckled softly. "So, tell me – how's Babe working out?"

"Babe?" Lip asked around the cigar.

"Yeah, the kid. The new kid – Heffron."

"He's doing just fine."

"Just like your nuts, huh?" Bill snickered a laugh that had Lip huffing embarrassedly and Lily furrowing her brow. It must be some joke that she wasn't privy to.

"Yes. Thank you, Bill." Lip said dryly, taking another puff of his cigar.

"When will he start riding out?" Bill asked, plowing ahead.

"Not on the floor."

"Yes, sarge."

"But looks like it could be soon. He and Doc seem well suited."

"Glad to hear it."

Lily rose from her chair with a put-out sigh. "Well, fascinating as this all is, I'm going to get Mr. Rockefeller a glass."

"He'll expect you to still be sitting there when he gets back." Bill said, idly shuffling the cards.

"I know, but he'll be needing a glass for next rounds of play. Better to slow him down and muddle him with more objects flying around the table."

"We'll cover for you if he comes back." Lip offered.

She smiled in thanks. "I'm not going far." She tucked in the empty chair, walking through the tables back towards to the bar. The tables seemed busier than they had earlier, men clustered around, all talking, drinking and smoking.

A hand fell to her arm, right above her elbow, steering her in a turn until she came face to face with someone unfamiliar.

"Hello, there." His words carried a distant hint of eastern upbringing, his bearing presenting full confidence. His face was pleasant enough, she supposed. Not strikingly handsome, but by no means unattractive.

"Howdy there, partner." She looked down to his hand still on her arm, trying to maintain a flirty smile. "Can I help you with something?"

"I'd certainly like it if you could." He said, honey-sweet. "I'd very much like the favor of your company."

"Well, that's mighty nice of you, sir –"

"Marshal."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Well, well…. Marshal, indeed." She looked him over in an obvious appraisal, watching his eyes darken with hunger in response. "You must be quite brave. What's your name, marshal?"

"Dike. You may call me Marshal Dike."

"Of course, Marshal Dike. It's an honor." She bat her lashes at him in a warm, coy greeting. "And I know someone else who would just love the honor of making your acquaintance."

"I'd rather just have you."

"I'm actually helping someone else right now –"

"I didn't realize you were exclusive." Suspicion narrowed his gaze. "Do I just need to pay more to earn your affections?"

"I ain't for sale like that." She tried to pull her arm free from his grasp, fixing him with a hard stare. But his hand tightened on his arm, pulling a small, pained gasp from her before she stilled. He stepped closer and she drew up the length of her spine, refusing to shrink under this taller height.

"Just because you have a pussy, doesn't mean you have to be a cunt." He sneered. "You're here to be warm and accommodating, and so far – you haven't been either of those things."

"I know what I'm here for. If it's warmth and accommodation you're seeking, try a brothel."

He squeezed her arm harder, bringing a wince to her face. "You might want to reconsider. I'm a powerful man." He released her arm with a surprisingly gentle motion. "You'd do well to remember that."

"Excuse me." Lip's voice, strong and sure, cut between them. "Is there a problem here, marshal?"

"No, no problem." Dike swept his gaze curtly away from her. "You might want to remind your lady here to watch where she's going. And to remember her place."

"Thank you, sir." Lip said, voice tight but still pleasant. "I'll see that it's addressed."

"See that you do." The marshal's gaze swept back to her in a dismissive glance before he moved away through the crowd. She released the breath that she didn't know she'd been holding.

"I'm sorry that I didn't see it sooner." Lip said, reaching out tenderly for her arm. She watched his face fall as he studied the bright red skin above her elbow.

"It's fine." She reassured him. "I don't think it'll bruise. And if it does? Well, I've had to conceal worse."

"Not since working here at Easy. I won't stand for this, and Dick certainly won't. What happened?"

"I'll tell you later." She forced her formerly playful smile back in place. "I should probably get back to Mr. Rockefeller's table. Bill can only hold him for so long."

Lip nodded, resigned as he gently let go of her arm. "Did you get the glass you were after?"

"No. I was stopped short."

"Go on, then." He encouraged with a soft smile. "Back to the table. I'll get a glass and come back."

Her playful smile slipped away to reveal something far more warm and affectionate. "Thank you, Carwood."


Six Years Ago

Carwood Lipton was the first one they met, but it was nearly a year later when he joined the Company.

Fort Kearny was one of many along the Oregon trail. A good place to restock supplies and plan to receive correspondence. Dick, in particular, had been excited about the promise of a letter from home. He didn't voice it, but he did miss seeing his mother regularly. With all the moving around he had done with the cavalry, there hadn't been a steady, reliable steam of letters. But now that he was on his way to settle down, he looked forward to more frequent correspondence.

Even Nix seemed upbeat at the prospect of mail. He'd sent out a few letters of his own before they headed out for the Fort. And now that they had finally arrived, there was little cause for further delay.

Dick looked at the small carte in Nix's arms. "Don't tell me."

He grinned as he set the crate down, handing a letter over to Dick and keeping one for himself. "Only the finest for Mrs. Nixon's baby boy."

Dick looked to the envelope in his hand, tearing it open and pouring over the neatly scrawled hand.

Nix always enjoyed watching the other man's face as he read the fond words. It was marvel that someone actually cared about home and family so much. It opened an ache in Nix's heart to have something so special in his life. Something that could make him smile like that, too.

Dick chuckled softly. "Mother has invited you for the holidays, if you wish."

"You wrote your mother about me?"

"I had to tell her something about my business partner so she wouldn't worry."

"Goodness. You must not have told her too much if she invited me for the holidays."

Dick continued reading. "She expresses her preference for us to be present for the 4th of July Celebration, but she understands if our business needs delay us until Thanksgiving and Christmas."

Nix chuckled, shaking his head. "I feel like I should write her a letter, thanking her."

"I hadn't planned to go back east that soon, but I'll write her."

"How is life on the farm, otherwise?"

"Oh, she's concerned for the upcoming spring season. Apparently, there was a storm last month."

"A storm?" Nix looked over, hesitant curiosity on his face. "How does in a storm in February cause concern for the spring season?"

Dick smiled fondly. "'For every thunderstorm in February, there will be a cold spell in May.'"

Nix met his smile. "Another one of your farmers' sayings?"

"Of course. One that happens to be true, as a matter of fact."

"Aren't all of them?"

"Depends who you ask."

They shared another soft chuckle before Nix looked down at the letter in his hand, frowning at the smudged postmark. "West Virginia?" He ran his thumb over the name and address. The ink had smeared something terrible, but it certainly looked like an L. Nixon.

"Who do you know in West Virginia?" Dick asked.

"No one." Nix tore into the letter with a skeptical brow raised, unfolding the paper to take in the prim handwriting. "Sergeant Carwood Lipton, 101stDivision Cavalry. Dearest Carwood. Please believe me when I tell you….Oh, goodness." Nix stopped reading, swiftly folding the letter as a flush burned high in his cheeks. "I'm afraid Sergeant Lipton is in for a shock when he reads this. I know I was when I received word of my wife ending our marriage."

"That's awful. My heart goes out to Sergeant Lipton."

"Sure." Nix agreed, half-heartedly. "If his marriage was anything like marriage is supposed to be, then sure." He sighed, tapping the folded letter against his other hand. "Guess I better get over to the cavalry outpost."

Dick decided to tag along, much to Nix's enjoyment as he let slip to the lieutenant on duty that Dick was a former cavalry major. That quickly opened the doors of cooperation, and they were shown to a man who had a hearty build with a pleasant face and warm demeanor.

"Good afternoon, sirs."

"Afternoon. Sergeant Lipton?" Nix asked, hesitantly.

"Yes, sir."

"This here's Dick Winters, and I'm Lewis Nixon. Guess the postmaster couldn't read the smudged envelope well enough to know that this wasn't my piece of mail." He held out the soiled, opened envelope. "I, uh...I didn't read the whole thing. Just enough to know that it was not written to me. I apologize profusely – it was not my intention to read into your business."

"It's alright, Mr. Nixon…I. Thank you." He took the letter looking down at it hesitantly, his smile falling to a sad line. "I apologize for any distressing news you may have read."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Nix's brow drew in sympathetically, his lips pinched. "If anything, I feel like I should apologize twice over. I received a similar letter, during my time in the cavalry. It's not easy when we're so far away."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." A down note sounded on Lipton's words at hearing the letter's contents confirmed. "And I appreciate the sentiment. It isn't easy. But we all do what we have to." He looked to Dick, a polite smile coming to his face. "How about you, sir? Are you former cavalry, too?"

"Yes."

Nix chuckled. "Oh, he'll play modest all damn day, but he was a major when he decommissioned."

"That's a noteworthy achievement, major." Lipton said. "Did you serve in the area?"

"No," Dick said, "our regiment spent a fair bit of time south in Oklahoma Territory and then north in the Dakotas towards the end."

"I have heard the Dakota hills are a sight to behold."

Nix looked to Lipton. "How much longer is your commission?"

"I have almost another year left, sir."

"No thoughts of desertion on such heartbreaking news?"

"No, sir."

"Sarge! Come on!" A voice with a distinctly sharp eastern accent cut through their conversation. A group of corporals stood off to their side, one of whom was looking right at them – a sturdy man who could be called ruggedly handsome. "You're gonna miss mess! Should invite the Quaker and his friend – let's see them stomach good ol' cavalry chow."

Lipton turned, his expression hardening. "That's enough, Gaurnere. Now go on – all of you. I'll be along shortly."

"Sure thing, sarge!" A low chuckle rose up from the group, but the reprimand was well-received as they started to walk off.

Lipton turned back around, his face the solid picture of remorse. "My apologies, sir. They can be a bit rowdy, but they're good men."

"Quaker?" Nix chuckled with a sidelong glance at Dick. "That's a new one."

Dick looked unfazed by the name-calling. "Well, they can't be expected to behave all the time. But they should probably be a little more cautious in calling out people they don't know."

"Yes, sir." Lipton agreed with a nod.

"Speaks to their faith in you that they'll do it so blatantly in front of you."

"It can't all just be about tearing them down. I think it has to be balanced. But that's not always easy to find."

"That sounds like a slur against your leadership, Sergeant."

"Not all COs are created equal, sir." Lip leveled him with an even, assessing gaze. "You seem like you would have been a good one."

The corner of Dick's lips ticked up. "You think so?"

"Well, to rise to the rank of major above all the other regiment captains, and to command that many men – stands to reason you were doing something right." The earnestness is Lipton's expression was unusual. He wasn't out to heap on flattery. It was just an assessment of the facts at his disposal.

"When your commission is up, if you're looking for a job. Come find us in Bluewater, Colorado territory. Might be able to offer you a job." Dick said warmly, holding out hand. "But we don't want to keep you from mess any longer, sergeant."

"Thank you, sir." Lip reached for his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Major Winters."

It was just ten minutes later when Nix accused him of picking up strays.

It was just over a year later when he welcomed Carwood Lipton to the Company.

And it was just under three years later when he told Bill Gaurnere that he wasn't a Quaker.

xxx

Lily met Carwood Lipton on any other day as he knocked on the backroom kitchen door, asking to see Mr. Winters or Mr. Nixon.

And it had been any other morning when she barged in on him eight months later.

Luz was really the one to blame. He had told her that Carwood was going to head straight out this morning and their common room would be empty. In hindsight, though, she probably still should have knocked. Not that she was shocked or outraged at what she saw, but she hadn't expected to find him on his bed, trousers down, and a hand wrapped around himself.

He fumbled for the blanket, his cheeks turning scarlet as she walked over to the nearest unoccupied bed.

"You needn't be so embarrassed," she said quietly, "it ain't nothing I haven't seen many times before."

"Well, it's…my something I know that you haven't seen before."

She snorted a quiet laugh, pulling off the bedcovers. "I'm only here to collect the bed linens for washing. Though, if you like, I can come back for yours once you've finished."

His lips pulled to an embarrassed smile as he shifted against the mattress awkwardly. "I don't think that will be necessary. Your sudden entrance has rather…uh, removed the problem."

She glanced over with an apprehensive curiosity. "Removed the problem in a finishing way?"

"No," he admitted, "in more of a startled way."

"Oh no, well we can't have that." She dropped the pile of bed covers, abandoning the current bed as she walked over towards him. "May I help? I would like to help since I just walked in on you."

"Ah, no…uh. My wife has been the only one…and…."

"You needn't worry about me expecting a marriage proposal from this."

"Doesn't that, uh, almost make it worse?" His cheeks burned redder as she dropped to her knees by his bedside. Despite his hesitant words, he made no moves to shuffle away from her or further cover himself with the blanket.

"No, I don't think that makes it worse." She simply said. "If it's been since your wife since you've had another touch, then I'd say that you're long overdue."

"Please…this – you. It's not necessary."

"Some might argue against that." She couldn't stop the rush of affection on his words – so reminiscent of Dick that night in her room. The only two true gentlemen in the place.

She raised her hand, setting it gently on his exposed thigh near the edge of the blanket.

"You don't have to say anything more. You can close your eyes – pretend I'm whoever you want me to be." Her hand inched up under the blanket so as not to spook him. "There's nothing wrong. You're just a man." She cupped him, watching his eyes screw shut and feeling him shudder at the caress. "A man who's denied himself too long."

He started to come back to life under her touch, his hips jerking in stunted movements. But he still tried to control himself, to keep his obvious enjoyment in check. She smirked on a particularly hard squeeze, determined to make him let go.

She flipped the blanket back and lowered her mouth to engulf him in one fell swoop. An obscene moan tore from his lips.

No one ever confirmed if they could hear him downstairs or not. But she held nothing back – using every trick she'd ever learned to make him forget himself entirely. As pent up as he was, it didn't take long.

He slumped back against the headboard, boneless and spent, while she grinned with satisfaction. Nothing quite like a job well done. In some way, it was good to know she hadn't lost her touch, so to speak.

"Thank you – I hope…I hope that's not a cheap thing to say." He said through deep breaths, cracking an eye to look at her earnestly. "What – ah, can I do anything for you in return?"

She smiled gently. "No, Carwood. Let's call it an apology for my barging in on you. Next time and all future times, I will knock on that door. No matter what Luz says."