This instalment is seen from Dusty's POV. Any background information of his comes from me, not canon source.

callensensei, JWood201, Louise Hargadon, welcome aboard for another bumpy ride!

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Dusty's morning routine usually went something like this.

Wake up. Either under his own steam or by some uncontrollable outside force, such as Mr. Callahan shouting or someone dropping something or Freckles whinnying for his breakfast.

Stumble to his feet, blinking and straightening his hat, taking a moment to remember that he wasn't at home in his nice, warm, cosy, plumpy-pillowed bed.

Stumble to the coffee pot for a quick waker-upper. Stumble to the creek for a wash and 'other stuff'. Check if he needed to shave yet. Dusty could go for days without shaving and even then it only took him a few minutes, during which he always managed to almost slice off the end of his nose and would come back to camp with his hand over his face and get teased.

Go check on Freckles. This was where his day began to get enjoyable. Freckles was always glad to see Dusty. The appaloosa pony would snort and stamp his feet and whinny and blow air out of his nose at the sight of his master approaching. I've never been anyone's master before, Dusty had once whispered into Freckles' cheek. I hope you don't mind me being yours. I know you liked it when you were wild, but I really hope you like it now that you're tame and you live with us. And to his amazement, Freckles had made a sound through his nose and teeth that sounded very much like "yes".

For breakfast, Freckles ate a yummy mixture of oats, bran and water. Dusty would fetch the oats and bran, which they kept in a barrel slung underneath the covered wagon, and add a little water from the creek. He would carry the pail back to Freckles and sit with the pony while he ate, brushing away the flies and shooing off all the greedy little birds that got too close, and he'd talk softly to Freckles and tell him all their plans for the day ahead.

This morning he should have followed his regular routine and stayed out of trouble, but he had gone and ruined things again with his need to make himself useful. Why had he worried about those stupid pots and pans? Okay, so he fell asleep on the stagecoach, big deal, he'd fallen asleep in worse places, like in school in the middle of important lessons or that time his parents left him in charge of his baby sister and she somehow ended up on the roof of the neighbour's barn. Anyway, as usual he'd caused a heap of trouble, and worst of all he'd knocked poor Betsy over and she was probably hurt but wasn't saying anything because Betsy was sweet and didn't like to hurt other people's feelings, which was one of the things he liked about her.

One of the things he liked about her.

And that was another thing. Why was he suddenly so distracted by things he liked about Betsy? Why not Lulu? Why not Andy, or Mr. Callahan, or even the Brookhavens, who were really nice when you got to know them?

Because it's a different type of like, and you know it.

Dusty was confused. He felt like he'd been getting a stomach bug for some while now, but when he knocked poor Betsy over and ended up lying on top of her, he'd gotten that same weird feeling all over again. Not exactly like he was going to be sick, or faint or die, but just a feeling in the middle of his ribs that he couldn't stop and somehow didn't mind, all at the same time. He didn't make a habit of going around lying on top of girls- there had been a couple of instances in his life where girls had ended up lying on top of him, Francine Carmichael for one, and boy did he get teased about that for months afterwards- but it wasn't an idea he was totally averse to, and it wasn't as if it had never happened before. Why, he'd been preyed upon only a few months ago in St. Louis by this older woman who had offered him big money to ride along with her, but he'd decided in the end that he didn't really want the money that bad.

This was different, though. He knew while he was lying on top of Betsy that he'd done something wrong. Really wrong. Even for him. He'd never had this intensity of feeling before. And right out in the open, under everyone's noses!

Okay, so Betsy had seemed to forgive him after he got her bag of women's stuff out of the tree, but that was only because Betsy was sweet and kind and forgiving anyway. What must she really be thinking of him?

And why did it suddenly matter so much?

So, anyway, because of all that unwanted confusion he was now running late with Freckles' breakfast, and the pony was making it known, loud and clear. He poured the oats and bran into the bucket, trying to ignore the feeling that was still in the pit of his stomach, and another even weirder feeling lower down. But he knew that feeling, and the sooner he got himself down to the creek in private, the better.

He set off for the creek at a slow run, because Freckles was getting impatient now. As he burst through the last of the trees onto the creek bank he suddenly realised, too late, that Betsy had been on her way down here and there she was in the water with her back turned, having a full bath.

"Whoa!" he cried, catching hold of an outstretched tree branch and rapidly spinning himself around so that he faced the other way.

"Dusty!" shouted Betsy, looking around in alarm, sinking swiftly into the cold water so that only her head was exposed.

"I'm sorry Betsy, I forgot you were down here! I-I only wanted water for Freckles' breakfast, I didn't...I wasn't..." Dusty found himself stammering, staring at the tree, trying to blink away the image of Betsy's bare shoulders and her slender back, and all gleaming wet and glistening with creek water. If he was having weird feelings before, he was definitely having them now!

"Oh, Dusty, don't apologise! Here, get your water, just be quick. Besides, I don't think you can see anything now. I'm under the water!"

"But, Betsy, I already saw something!" he wailed.

"Oh, Dusty, but that was an accident! You can't see anything now! I'm hidden!"

Dusty pushed himself away from the tree with one hand clamped purposefully over both eyes and advanced slowly towards the creek with his bucket of oats held out straight in front. "I'm not looking!" he announced, loudly. "I'm not looking!"

"Dusty, look out! There's a..."

He heard her warning loud and clear, but it was too late. The tip of his boot caught in something solid and he pitched forward and landed on his stomach, sending the pail of oats flying into the creek. "Oh, no! Freckles' breakfast!" he cried, opening his eyes at last and looking round to find he'd tripped over an exposed tree root. Meanwhile, Freckles' breakfast had miraculously landed in the creek without the pail overturning and was now drifting merrily towards Betsy like a little oaty boat.

"It's all right, Dusty, I've got it!" Betsy cried, wading a little to the right to intercept the floating bucket as it approached, putting out her hand and snagging the handle with her fingers. "Got it!"

Dusty scrambled to his feet. "Boy, Freckles would never have forgiven me if I lost his favourite bucket!" he proclaimed with relief.

"Well, tell Freckles not to worry, his bucket is safe," Betsy laughed, holding the bucket tightly in both hands.

Dusty came further down to the water's edge. "Now you just need to get the bucket back to me, Betsy," he said. "I can close my eyes again if you want." To demonstrate, he screwed his face up, eyes squeezed tight. "See?"

"Promise you won't look?" she said, nervously.

"Promise. Promise, promise, promise, promise, promise."

"Don't move, either. You know what happens when you move, Dusty."

"I won't move, and I won't look, Betsy. I promise."

Dusty heard her approaching through the water. She made soft little splashing noises, and it sounded like the water was laughing. And she was laughing, although it was more like scared giggling, like when Andy told ghost stories around the campfire- boy, those ghost stories even scared him. Or like that time when a big spider got in Lulu's blanket, and the next night Betsy was convinced one was going to get into hers. She made the same kind of scared giggling then. Or like the time when they were still part of the big wagon train, and this guy told her she was "real purty" and looked at her weird. That was kind of when Dusty had started to notice her too, because he didn't think the guy should have said that to her, even if a lot of the guys went around saying that to the girls, and plenty of them had said it to Lulu, and Lulu didn't mind at all. And one time he'd even seen Lulu give a guy a crack on the skull with her hairbrush because he'd gotten fresh with her.

"Dusty?"

"Huh?" he almost opened his eyes, remembering at the last minute to keep them clamped firmly shut.

"Dusty, I'm coming out of the creek just a little, okay? Don't look. Promise me you won't look. I mean it."

"Why would I look? Just because you're nnnn..." he stopped, biting his tongue, feeling weird all over again.

"Dusty, seriously. I mean it."

"I am being serious, Betsy." Dusty held his arms straight out in front of him and turned his head all the way to one side, even though his eyes were shut, just to make the point. "I won't look."

He heard the splashing a little louder in front of him and then he could smell creek water, and he knew it must be coming from her, and that she must be out of the water and standing naked as a jay bird in front of him, and suddenly his head started spinning and his heart started thundering. His fingers groped for the bucket and when they found the wooden handle they gripped hard for dear life.

"There. Do you have it?" Betsy said, not two feet away in front of him.

"Uh-huh," he said, his voice cracking. He held the bucket down over his belt because he was quite sure that this time his weird feeling was definitely showing itself.

"Good. Oh, and I mixed in a little water while I was at it. I knew how much to add because I've watched you do it so many times, Dusty."

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, eyes still screwed shut, bucket covering his nether regions.

"You always mix Freckles a good breakfast, Dusty."

"Uh-huh." He was starting to panic now.

"I like the way you just put your whole hand in and give it a good stir."

"Uh-huh." Dusty didn't even know why her words were making him feel so funny. They just were. He was definitely going to panic and do something stupid like fall over or something any second. He could even feel his balance starting to waver. "Betsy, can I go now?" he said in a voice that was all high and low and up and down.

"Of course, Dusty. And I guess I'd best get dressed, too, because I'm getting all cold and goosebumpy standing here without..."

"G'bye Betsy, see you later!" Dusty shouted, launching himself bodily through the trees, tripping and stumbling but not quite falling, only opening his eyes until he knew he wouldn't be able to see her, even if he turned around and tried to. Which he wasn't going to do, no sir.

He ran and ran all the way to where Freckles, Blarney and all the other horses were tethered, and it was only when he saw his beloved pony that he began to calm down, his heart no longer pounding like a convict against the bars of his ribcage. He skidded to a halt, landed the bucket of oats down in front of the ravenous pony with a heavy thump and stood there bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath as the hungry pony thrust his head into the mixture and began munching.

Finally Dusty got his breath back. He straightened his hat and tried to think of anything but naked ladies coming out of rivers. He didn't think of things like that normally, so why should he now? He was in control of his thoughts. He was not going to let thoughts of naked ladies coming out of rivers distract him from his duties! No naked lady coming out of a river was going to mess with his day, no sir. Boy, Freckles was hungry- he was going through his bucket of food like a naked lady coming out of a river.

Dusty blinked, dismayed. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and shook his head wildly from side to side. No! No naked ladies coming out of rivers!

The other horses, who had already been fed, were staring at him curiously.

"What?" he said, pulling a face at them. "Haven't you ever seen a naked lady coming out of a river before?"

Just then, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, something pale flashing between the branches. He turned his head to see Betsy, now fully clothed in one of her demure ankle length, long sleeved dresses, cutting through the trees on her way back to camp. He gazed at her dreamily as she made her way along. Oh good, he thought. At least she's not a naked lady any more.

Except for under her clothes...

Dusty brought Freckles' empty bucket back to camp just as Mr. Callahan and Andy were going over the wagon, making sure all their goods and supplies were safely stowed.

"Hey, Mr. Callahan," he said breezily. "Sorry I'm late. Had to feed Freckles."

"You been with Freckles all this time, Dusty?" the big wagonmaster said gruffly.

"Yeah. He had a lot to tell me...I mean, I had a lot to tell him," Dusty amended quickly, giving Mr. Callahan a sheepish grin. "He was too busy eating to talk."

"Dusty, forget it. Now that you're here, let's get ourselves moving. Okay?" Mr. Callahan said with a tight smile, reaching out and patting Dusty's cheek.

It didn't take long to guide all the horses into their respective harnesses and to hitch them to the wagon and the Brookhavens' stagecoach respectively. While Andy and Dusty worked, Mr. Callahan did a quick recce of the campsite to make sure nothing had been left behind. He made sure the girls were comfortable in the wagon, glanced briefly at Betsy and wondered what was different about her. He made sure the Brookhavens were safely and comfortably ensconced in their wagon. Then he fetched his own horse Blarney while Dusty led Freckles over to the back of the wagon where the pony would follow the train while being safely watched over by Lulu and Betsy.

As he hitched Freckles' reins to the back of the wagon, Betsy called to him from inside.

"Hello, Dusty."

Dusty felt his mouth go instantly dry. "Uh..hi again, Betsy." Sure hope you're not naked...

Betsy scooted to the back of the wagon and looked out at him. "I'll bet Freckles was sure glad to get his breakfast after all that excitement down by the river," she smiled.

"What excitement?" Dusty said, feeling his voice breaking already. "I didn't see any excitement, in fact I didn't see anything. Not a thing. I definitely didn't see any naked ladies coming out of a river."

Betsy looked shocked, then embarrassed, then she actually started laughing. "Dusty, I did have an old pair of bloomers on," she admitted.

"You did?" Dusty said, his mouth agape, feeling strangely disappointed.

"Yes!" Betsy nodded. "You really don't think I would walk out of a river completely naked do you? Why! Shame on you!"

"Uh..." Dusty could feel his head spinning again, rapidly this time. He put one hand onto the wagon to steady himself. Then a thought occurred to him. "But...what about?" he pointed to his chest region, then immediately regretted it.

"Dusty, you didn't peek, did you?" Betsy looked scandalized.

"No, I didn't peek! I didn't even open my eyes 'til I got halfway over to Freckles! Gee, Betsy, what do you take me for, some kinda Peeping Jim?"

"That's 'Peeping Tom', Dusty," laughed Lulu from inside the wagon.

"Whatever it is, I ain't one," Dusty muttered, feeling vaguely affronted.

"I know, Dusty." Betsy smiled. "You're too sweet and kind to ever do anything like that."

Dusty finished hitching Freckles to the wagon and looked at Betsy, wondering what was different about her. Was it just the way she was smiling at him, the way her eyes looked brighter than usual? He couldn't figure it out, but he got the feeling she was definitely teasing him. He didn't know how he felt about that, but he decided he liked the way it made her look.

He shifted from foot to foot, rubbing his neck, fumbling for the right words to say before spewing them all out in a nervous rush. "Betsy, it's hard for me to say whether this day's gotten off to a good start or not, but if you get to thinkin' later on that you might want to come and sit up on the stagecoach with me, then I'd be happy to have you along."

Betsy stared at him with wide open eyes. "Why, Dusty, is that an invitation?"

Dusty shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, it's an invitation. I guess."

"Well, then, if it's an invitation, then I'd be happy to come up and sit on the stagecoach with you later on!" Betsy said delightedly.

"You would? Gee, Betsy, that's great! Okay...well...guess I'll be seeing you later then."

"Guess you will, Dusty," Betsy smiled shyly, then she leaned over the back of the wagon and kissed him on the mouth, making his head spin and his stomach flip and his weird feeling get weirder and filling his mind with images upon images of countless naked ladies coming out of rivers.

Dusty's day was definitely getting better.

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I'm sure there will be more...!