These two just won't leave me alone...

Hooray!

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At last they were camped down for the evening. It had been a long day, with the heat and the bumpy trail and the circling buzzard that screeched maniacally as if it were laughing at them for getting lost.

Camping down for the evening was always the highlight of Betsy's day, when she could stretch her legs and have a wash and fix her hair. She enjoyed the domesticated side of things while the men enjoyed unloading the wagon and unharnessing the bone-weary horses. After that, the routine chores were evenly distributed on a rota system, whereby sometimes Dusty would make coffee, sometimes Andy, sometimes Betsy and sometimes Mr. Callahan.

Lulu and The Brookhavens usually escaped many domestic chores because they were so hopeless at them- in Mr. Brookhaven's case, sometimes refusing to do them at all. Lulu's coffee had, in the past, been compared to polecat urine by Mr. Callahan, formic acid by Andy, and skunk squirt by Dusty. And I should know, he'd said with an air of authority, 'cause I got squirted by one. Her culinary skills were just as atrocious. The only good thing she knew how to do with food was eat it. Therefore, Lulu spent much of each evening prettying herself up for the benefit of six other people who largely ignored her looks anyway, seeing as they'd become so used to her sashaying around wearing full war paint and feathers just to sit down to eat every evening.

The horses were tethered down by the creek they had been following for the last few weeks. This creek was also invaluable for drinking water and bathing in. It was neither too shallow nor too deep, and Dusty had even taken Freckles in there one afternoon after the poor pony got bitten by horseflies.

Betsy loved to watch Dusty with Freckles. She had never known a man to love an animal so much, and it was a joy to watch Freckles reciprocate Dusty's love by nuzzling his master's hair and chewing lumps out of his clothes. They were a perfect team of two. Dusty spent hours grooming Freckles until his coat shone. The horse would whinny happily as Dusty combed his tail and mane and picked stones and clumps of earth out of his hooves. It was almost like they were talking to each other. I know which is the more intelligent, Mr. Callahan had said once, but with affection, because even Mr. Callahan was touched by the obvious bond between Dusty and his appaloosa pony.

Dusty was with Freckles now, and Betsy went in search of them with a selection of vegetables Andy had said she could have. Freckles liked carrots especially, so Betsy made sure she had carrots.

Dusty looked up as she approached, pushed his hat back and waved at her. "Hey, Betsy," he called.

"Hi Dusty," she replied.

"I hope you're not too badly bruised from sitting on that stagecoach all day," he went on as she closed the distance between them. "First time I rode a stage I was black and blue from here to here." He indicated his nether regions with a vague sweep of his hand.

"I told you, Dusty," Betsy said primly, "it's no worse than sitting on the wagon seat."

"It bounces more," Dusty countered. "Gets you in more places."

"I wouldn't know, Dusty," Betsy said, trying to hide a small, shocked smile. She instead turned to Freckles, who welcomed her and her gift of carrots with a series of excited snorts, tossing his glossy mane and flapping his big, rubbery lips.

"Freckles is always happy to see me, aren't you, boy?" Betsy patted the horse's neck, nuzzling him with her face.

"Freckles is always happy to see anybody who brings him carrots," Dusty grinned.

"But especially me," said Betsy. "Isn't that right, Freckles?" She extended her hand, palm flattened upwards, and fed him a small discoloured carrot. The pony took it with his flapping lips and crunched loudly, tossing his head and waving his tail. "I'll take that as a yes," she smiled delightedly, rubbing her cheek against the pony's neck.

"Boy, Freckles, you get all the luck," said Dusty. "I wish a pretty girl would feed me a mouldy old carrot."

"You're welcome to a mouldy old carrot, Dusty," said Betsy, thrusting a withered vegetable towards him, laughing when he forcibly declined.

"Can't I just have the neck rub?" her friend replied, hopefully.

"Not if you don't eat the carrot," Betsy teased.

Dusty reached out and plucked the ancient vegetable from her fingers, put it in his mouth and bit the end off. He chewed it for a few moments and then pulled a face and spat it out. "Yuck."

"Dusty, these are what Andy is cooking with, I hope you don't do that with his stew later on."

"I'll just eat the potatoes," Dusty grimaced, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Freckles was happy to accept a third withered carrot, crunching it happily.

"Can I have my neck rub now?" Dusty asked, lifting his chin.

"Well, okay, but you didn't eat the carrot, so you don't really deserve it." Betsy went up to him and stroked her hand up the side of his neck. "There. Good boy, Dusty."

"Hey, that's nice, Betsy. No wonder Freckles is always happy to eat everything you bring him."

As though Freckles understood, the horse stamped his foot and whinnied, throwing his head up and down.

"Yes, Freckles, I would, too."

"You would what?" asked Betsy, amused.

"Wave my tail if I had one."

With all the carrots now eaten by the hungry horse, Betsy gave Freckles a farewell pat and a kiss on the cheek and then went with Dusty back to the campsite.

"If Andy's cooking, then that means I'm on first watch," Dusty mused. "So that means I gotta stay awake until midnight. Then Mr. Callahan takes over."

"Oh, but Dusty, the way you were falling asleep today, that's not fair!"

"Betsy, a man's gotta do his duty," said Dusty, importantly.

"But you'll be fast asleep straight after supper!"

Dusty looked at his friend with a slight frown. "You don't seem to have much faith in me, Betsy," he declared.

"Dusty, I have every faith in you. I just don't think you'll be able to stay awake until midnight."

"I'll just drink me lots of coffee," Dusty told her. "Besides, not everyone is asleep all at the same time. If Mr. Callahan is awake he sits on watch too. And there was this one time that Lulu couldn't sleep and she came and kept me up all night."

Betsy stared at Dusty. Please let that just be an innocent turn of phrase, she thought silently.

"Besides, it's different at night. When a man's on watch, it's his duty to keep his eyes open and stay alert at all times." With that, Dusty promptly tripped over a bucket of potatoes, sending the vegetables rolling everywhere.

"Dusty, be careful, would you?" cried Andy.

"Sorry, Andy." Dusty started chasing after potatoes. "I was just telling Betsy how a man's gotta stay alert at all times when he's on watch." He followed a potato under the wagon and then stood up beneath it with a sharp crack, making both Betsy and Andy wince. "And not only that," Dusty came out from under the wagon, rubbing his head, "he's gotta be able to see out of all the corners of his eyes too, so's he don't miss a thing, like maybe a bear, or a coyote or a rattlesnake..." he stood on a potato and rolled sideways, having to catch onto Andy for support.

"...or a wild potato," Andy finished.

Unperturbed, Dusty straightened up and handed his potatoes to Andy, nodding sagely. "Oh yes, Betsy, it's a mean country out there, most especially at night. Just be glad you got someone like me to look after you and make sure you don't get hurt."

Andy and Betsy exchanged a look. Then Betsy smiled at Dusty and nodded her agreement. "Oh, yes, Dusty. I sure am glad to have you around."

By 7pm, Mr. Callahan's campfire was crackling merrily away and everyone was getting ready to eat. Andy stood at the huge cooking pot stirring chunks of meat and vegetables around, causing delicious smells to waft around the clearing.

"Boy, am I hungry," said Dusty, wearing the look of a raccoon that hadn't eaten in a week.

"Come and get it, folks," Andy said at last, and began dishing out portions, serving all the ladies first.

Mrs. Brookhaven accepted a plate of mostly gravy and small chunks of meat. Mr. Brookhaven accepted his helping slightly grudgingly, peering at the bland looking stew and wrinkling his nose.

"I'm sorry it's not the Royale, Mr. Brookhaven," said Andy, goodnaturedly.

"The Royale?" Mr. Brookhaven said stuffily. "It isn't even the Lucky Horseshoe."

"I think what's in that stew might've once been wearin' horseshoes," said Lulu with a look of disdain, but she was quite happy to accept a portion and even indicated the exact bit of potato that she wanted.

Betsy received her portion next, and went over to sit with Lulu.

"Hey, Betsy. Ain't seen you all day. Well, except from behind, that is." The showgirl speared potato on her fork, held it up and peered at it suspiciously. Meanwhile, Betsy blushed furiously.

"Seen you sittin' up front with Dusty," Lulu went on. "Did you manage to keep him awake?"

"Yes, I did," Betsy replied, a little self-consciously.

"Only one way I know of to keep a man awake," Lulu drawled, chewing her potato. "Gotta keep him stimulated."

Just as Betsy spluttered on a piece of carrot, Dusty approached with his plate looking for somewhere to sit. "Mind if I join you girls?" he said cheerfully, peering at Betsy who had gone puce. "What's the matter with Betsy?" he asked Lulu.

"She got somethin' stuck in her throat," Lulu said, her tone laden with an intent that went straight over Dusty's head but made Betsy choke and splutter even more.

Dusty perched himself on the wooden bench on Lulu's right. Betsy was on Lulu's left. "Betsy, you should be more careful swallowing," he said, digging into his stew.

"S'what I said," Lulu drawled.

"Please," Betsy gasped. "Can we change the conversation?"

"Oh, were we having a conversation?" Dusty looked pleased. "What were we talking about?"

"How to keep a man awake," Lulu smiled naughtily.

"Hey, isn't that funny?" Dusty beamed. "We were just talking about that before, weren't we Betsy? I was only tellin' Betsy a man's gotta be vi...vija...vij...alert at all times."

"At all times except when he's drivin' a stagecoach," Lulu chuckled. "Betsy here says she kept you awake alright. That true, Dusty?"

"Sure, Lulu. Betsy was great at keeping me awake."

"Well." The showgirl speared another chunk of potato. "I'm very glad to hear it."

"Yeah," Dusty went on. "It was great. Especially when she grabbed a hold of my..." Dusty was interrupted mid sentence by Betsy's sudden loud hawking, coughing and choking noises. Startled, Lulu put down her own plate and began thumping the younger woman hard between the shoulderblades.

"C'mon Betsy, spit it out, honey, that's it. Bet it was a lump o' that ol' horsemeat. Stuff's chewier than an old saddle."

"You okay, Betsy?" asked Dusty, bewildered, leaning around Lulu to look at his friend.

Betsy nodded, her eyes watering. "Yes, Dusty, I'm fine."

"Oh, okay, good. 'Cause I was just tellin' Lulu that it was great when you grabbed a hold of my..."

He was interrupted again by Betsy coughing and coughing even louder than before, causing Lulu to thump her even harder between the shoulders. "Betsy," he looked at her sternly. "I don't think you're okay at all."

"Dusty, can I have a word?" said Betsy, wiping her streaming eyes with a handkerchief. She got up from the bench and headed towards the area at the back of the wagon where the storage trunks were set out.

"Well?" said Lulu, fixing Dusty with a world-weary eye. "Ain't you gonna go?"

"Betsy?" Dusty came around the back of the wagon, calling for his friend. "Betsy, you here?"

"Dusty," said Betsy. She was just a little way off the clearing, in a small patch of shadow.

"Why're you in the dark?" he asked, puzzled. "Don't you want to eat your supper?"

"I need to talk to you," she said. "About the things you say. Out loud. In front of other people. Like Lulu."

Dusty went over to where she stood. "Lulu? What did I say out loud in front of Lulu?"

"Dusty, you were about to tell her I grabbed a hold of your leg!" Betsy said in a loud whisper.

"No I wasn't!" Dusty protested, also in a loud whisper. "I was gonna say when you grabbed a hold of my reins!"

Betsy stared hard at him. She could make out his furrowed frown and hear the indignation in his voice. She couldn't say she didn't believe him, because Dusty wasn't duplicitous. If he said he had been going to say 'reins', then he had been going to say 'reins', no matter how much it sounded like he was going to say 'leg'.

"Oh, Dusty, I'm sorry," she sighed. "It's just that...well, Lulu's always saying things that have double meanings, and I know she's just teasing half the time, but I get awfully embarrassed, and then I start seeing double meanings in everything, and I was sure that you were going to tell her that I grabbed a hold of your leg." Betsy again spoke in a whisper, meaning that Dusty had to come even closer, ending up just an arm's length away under an overhanging tree branch.

"Why would I tell Lulu that?" he asked. "Why would I tell anyone that? It was between you and me, remember?"

"I know, Dusty." Betsy hung her head. "I'm sorry."

"Anyways, it was an accident."

"Yes, it was."

"We went over a bump." Dusty shrugged.

"Yes, we did."

"That's all there was to it."

"Yes, that's right."

"Just a bump."

"Just a bump."

"There's no way you'd put your hand on my leg, right, Betsy? Not unless it was an accident."

"No, Dusty. Not unless it was an accident."

"Like if we went over another bump or something."

"Yes, Dusty. Only if we did that. Or something."

"Why would you want to put your hand on my leg, anyway? it's just an old leg."

"That's true Dusty. It is just an old leg. Why would I want to..." but Betsy didn't get a chance to finish what she was saying, because suddenly Dusty leaned forward and kissed her. She stumbled backwards, caught by surprise, and then his arms were around her too. Dusty was holding her steady, and he was kissing her. Without being given a direct signal, without being given an obvious cue, or even without her having to come straight out with it and ask.

Betsy closed her eyes and lost herself. This was what she had been dreaming about all day. Kissing Dusty. And now she was. She sighed gently, letting him move his lips against hers, letting him breathe warm air against her cheek, letting him move his hands over her back. These weren't the actions of a clumsy fool. This was a man acting with a degree of intent. And just the thought of what that intent might be caused Betsy to pull him even closer, kiss him even harder, dare to wonder what it would be like to...

Betsy panicked. She broke the kiss and tried to push him away, then realised she didn't want to. He was Dusty. Dusty would never, ever do anything she didn't want him to do. It was only her own fear that was making her want to push him away. So instead she rested her head on his shoulder and stayed locked in his embrace, listening to the crickets and insects and owls and the sound of pots and pans clattering and Lulu's voice and Mr. Callahan talking to Andy and the campfire crackling.

And Dusty quietly breathing.

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END

Or more...?

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