I do not own Young Guns...oh painful reminder.

4 months until the LCW...

"Alright then that's enough reading for tonight, a splendid job everyone. Please mark your place Grace and we'll continue tomorrow." John Tunstall rose from the armchair, smiling as he retired to his room for the night. Grace and the other Regulators chorused their "Goodnights" as she placed a strip of fabric between the pages and returned the book to its shelf. After a few moments of silence in which they exchanged grinning glances they all made their way to the bunkhouse. They were certain that John knew of their Saturday night activities, but allowed it to go seemingly unnoticed, and more importantly, unpunished. Perhaps only because the next day, Sunday, was their day of rest and their antics did not inhibit their work.

The small group sat around a small table at the center of the bunkhouse and then there were produced six shot glasses and a few assorted bottles of whiskey, rum, and something unidentifiable that Steve had bought off another local rancher. Grace planned on avoiding that last one. Richard, Doc, Charley, Steve, Billy, Chavez and Grace sat around the table.

"So what game are we playing tonight?" asked Grace, propping her elbows on the table which was frowned upon in the house. She loved being the only woman among men. It was different from keeping company with women, you could be open and honest, and downright crude almost without consequence, and by now they treated her as one of their own. Doc looked amused as he poured everyone a shot of whiskey,

"Poker." he said, handing her a glass. The downside of being one of the guys? They enjoyed boring games. She sat back pouting and crossed her arms over her chest as Doc dealt out the cards.

An hour later they were still playing, laughing, and drinking, save for Charley who had drunk too much already and was snoring on his bunk. Grace was annoyed as she looked through her hand. "Well?" Doc prompted. Sighing she laid down her cards,

"I'm out." Pushing away from the table Grace walked over to an empty bunk and lay down. They laughed, and continued their game. While she had taken drinks slowly, the boys had downed their glasses, but she was beginning to feel the effects of the liquor. Her cheeks were warm, and she felt dizzy. For a few minutes she listened to the taunts and insults tossed back and forth at the table. Another roar of laughter and Chavez joined her.

"Looks like I'm out too," he commented as he sat on the bed where Grace lay. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she was wide awake yet. He leaned back and unlaced one of her shoes, exposed from beneath the hem of her skirt. Pulling off her shoe he tickled her foot, which got an immediate response as the other foot kicked him in the back. Chavez wasn't completely drunk but was definitely well on his way.

"That's what you get" She said as she sat up and kicked off the other shoe. Tilting her head to one side she swung her long braid over one shoulder to tug off the cord keeping it together. Starting at the bottom she untangled the braid. As she did so she caught Chavez's eyes and began pushing against his leg with her stockinged feet. "Go grab that bottle of rum and our glasses" she commanded. After he didn't budge from repeated nudging she added with a pout, "please Chavez?" He rewarded her with a soft smile and did as she asked. As he walked away she gazed at his broad shoulders and narrow hips. Grace traced a upside-down triangle in the air and thought to herself, that's how men ought to be shaped. She spaced out for a moment or two.

"Why are you smiling?" Chavez had returned and reclaimed his place on the bed. Drawing a hand up to her mouth she covered her lips,

"I didn't realize I was, but never you mind". Finishing with her hair she shook her head and allowed the curls to fall wherever they wanted. The soft chestnut locks tumbled down her back. Chavez handed over her glass and poured her and himself a shot. "That's better," she sighed after drinking hers.

"Hey Chavez! Get over here!" called Billy from the table. Laughing she pushed on his shoulder,

"You'd better go before you get in trouble," she teased. As Chavez went to see what they wanted Grace eyed the bottle of rum and took a couple gulps straight from the bottle. After a few minutes of idly hanging out on the bed she began to feel antsy so she slowly got up and stumbled ever so slightly out of the bunkhouse.

Once exposed to the cool night air she breathed deep and closed her eyes. It seemed that everything around her had a wiggly quality to it, which didn't hurt her head but it did make it difficult to walk a straight line. Unless something was right in front of her, Grace just couldn't focus on it. Slowly she sat down on the ground and closed her eyes. Upon opening her eyes she found that Chavez had also found his way outside. Though he was steady on his feet, he too had drunk a little too much.

"What are you doing on the ground?" he asked. Smiling, slightly embarrassed she explained to him,

"The ground's the only thing that doesn't move. You should come down here it's fun." Chavez just gave her one of his half smiles. As he sat down Indian-style (no pun intended) Grace laid back and watched the stars. Moving to lay next to her Chavez turned his head to watch Grace. Even drunk Grace could feel his eyes on her and so she turned to face him. It seemed that he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words in his inebriated state. Instead he turned onto his side so that he was leaning over her. Grace laid there unsure of what he was going to do and what to do herself. Chavez ran his knuckles along the delicate curve of Grace's face. Her heart fluttered as he gently gripped her chin and began to lean closer...

But then a commotion inside the bunkhouse seemed to snap them both out of it. Chavez quickly pulled away and sat up. Trying to hide her disappointment Grace mumbled something about being tired and got up and made her way to the main house.