Okay, here goes- I hope you like this one, it was kind of written in a hurry, and then I got scared my internet would go off (again) so it was a case of publish and be damned. That's my excuse anyway.

####

Betsy tried laying down but the jerky, bumpy movements of the wagon made her feel ill, so, with Lulu's help, she spent the rest of the afternoon propped up on a mound of blankets and pillows clutching a damp cloth which she used to wipe her face with when the heat became too much.

She thought about the day's events and felt guilty for making a spectacle of herself. Not only for causing the wagon train to stop, but also for letting Dusty kiss her like that in full view of anyone who cared to look through the stagecoach window.

Oh, but who was she kidding. Being that close to Dusty always made her want to kiss him, and now it appeared she was actively encouraging him.

Betsy felt torn. Her straight-laced upbringing had drummed it into her that a lady must never make the first move. Not even if it meant missing out on the man of your dreams, and that was the bit Betsy could never understand, because a shy man like Dusty wouldn't always see an opportunity when it presented itself. For the most part Dusty was more concerned with the welfare of his beloved pony Freckles than he was even with his own health and well being. He was not a self-conscious man, and not even particularly observant of the moods and attitudes of his fellow travellers. Dusty just lived in his own little bubble.

Mother would be shocked if she saw the way I was behaving, Betsy thought sadly. She'd be making me sit up straight with my hands clasped in my lap and I'd have to wait for Dusty to bring me flowers and ask for permission even just to sit in the same room as me.

And what if Dusty didn't have the patience for the formal approach? Why, he'd just get nervous and the next thing you knew the vase would be broken and the flowers would be scattered and there'd be water all over mother's precious couch and daddy would chase Dusty out of the house shouting things like "you're not fit for my daughter you clumsy idiot!"

Betsy drew the dampened cloth across her forehead as the wagon jolted over the trail. It seemed she thought of nothing but Dusty these days.

####

Dusty sat on the stage by himself, bored now that he didn't have any company. He didn't know why Betsy had fainted- he hoped it wasn't because of him. When she'd toppled sideways and almost fallen off the seat he'd had to quickly wrap one arm tight around her waist and brace his feet hard up against the footplate just to stop them both from falling off. Mr. Caaalllaaahhhaaannn! He'd yelled at the top of his lungs, pulling back on the reins to halt the horses, the prickle of fear making his skin crawl all over. Mr. Caaalllaaahhhaaannn!

When Mr. Callahan had arrived, Dusty had been frantically patting Betsy's cheek and saying her name over and over, trying to get her to wake up. Mr. Callahan had climbed onto the stage and immediately took the young woman into his arms but Dusty wouldn't let go either, so they'd had to struggle down off the footplate as best they could with the dead weight of Betsy folded up between them. What's happened to her, Mr. Callahan? What's happened to her?

Mr. Callahan, and then Andy, reassured him that she'd just fainted, that the heat sometimes made people so weak that their bloodstream stopped working properly and didn't give them enough oxygen in their brain. That was good enough for Dusty- he trusted Mr. Callahan implicitly and he knew that Andy was a much cleverer man than he was. He'd finally let go of Betsy and allowed Mr. Callahan to take her into the stagecoach, but he'd watched all the way to make sure she was okay.

A little smile tugged at his lips as he thought on further. Was it right to kiss a girl after she'd just fainted? He blinked dreamily. It sure felt right. The look that she gave him was unlike anything he'd ever experienced and the way she'd held him made him tingle all over right down to his toes which curled up tight in his boots as her lips moved softly against his. In fact, if he thought about it, he could still feel her kiss now, a gentle caress across his lips and cheek. Unless it was just the breeze- but he didn't care. Breeze or kiss, it all felt so gosh darned good.

He remembered a small incident that happened when they were still in St. Louis boarding the main wagon train- the one they'd been a part of before he'd gotten them separated and then lost. Betsy- although he didn't know her then, much less what she was called- had dropped a pair of gloves on the ground and carried on walking, oblivious to the fact that they were lost. He'd rushed over and grabbed them off the floor and run after her, then a dog had run through his legs and sent him sprawling in a heap, causing the gloves to get covered in dirt. The commotion had made several people turn around, including Betsy, who had smiled at the sight of the young man lying face down on the ground with one arm raised, waving the soiled gloves in her direction. Miss, you dropped your gloves! She had come over to him and taken them from his outstretched hand and had thanked him with a big beaming smile, laughing as she walked off with her gloves, leaving him grinning like an inane idiot, still lying on the ground.

He doubt she remembered it, but he thought about it all the time.

####

That evening as the sun went down and they began unpacking for camp, Betsy ventured out of the wagon to get some fresh air. Within moments Dusty appeared at her side out of nowhere, his face a picture of concern.

"Are you all right now, Betsy?" he asked, fixing her with his guileless blue eyes, making her stomach flip over and her face start burning.

"Yes, Dusty, I feel much better now thank you," Betsy replied, her throat feeling strangely dry as the butterflies danced inside her.

"I'm making some coffee," Dusty ventured further, hitching up his gun belt and looking a little unsure of himself.

"Oh, that would be lovely," Betsy smiled. "You make the best coffee, Dusty."

He grinned shyly. "Still thinkin' about that coffee house," he said, as though it were some kind of big secret between them.

Betsy lowered her eyes demurely, but that only made things worse as now she found herself looking at his gun belt...and surrounding areas. Her cheeks flamed red, she bit her lip to stop herself from thinking thoughts she shouldn't be thinking. Finally she had to look away completely, over to where Mr. Callahan and Andy were unhitching the horses, a nice, safe piece of imagery that didn't arouse her in the least.

"Want to come sit with me while I make it?" Dusty asked hopefully.

"Oh! I'd love to, Dusty," Betsy found herself saying, "but first I need to...um, you know. Have a wash and, um...freshen up." She blushed scarlet.

"Oh, okay, sure," Dusty mumbled, scuffing his toes through the dirt. "Oh, hey...I could bring you some hot water, how about that? There's a wash bowl in the back of the wagon, I'll fill it for you."

"Why, thank you, Dusty, that would be wonderful!" Betsy smiled, genuinely thankful. "It'll be lovely to have a hot wash. I'll go get the bowl ready." She turned back to the wagon, hoping he wouldn't see just how excited she was, then turned around again as she got to the tailgate to find that he was already gone.

Betsy found a small secluded area away from the wagon to set the water bowl down. As she was clearing debris from the ground, Lulu appeared.

"Hey, sugar," she grinned. "Good to see you up and about. Whatcha up to?"

"Dusty's bringing me some hot water for a wash," Betsy said, feeling the way her lips stretched wide into a beaming smile at the mere mention of Dusty's name.

"He is, is he?" Lulu swayed her hips, eyed the bowl on the floor. "He gonna scrub your back for you too?"

"Lulu!" Betsy cried, a little too loudly, then dropped her voice to a whisper. "That's not fair."

"I'm teasin' you, hun," Lulu laughed. "You know I'm on your side. Dusty's just about the sweetest boy who ever lived. Any man who looks after his woman like that is worth keepin' hold of."

Betsy's heart jumped. Was Lulu saying that Betsy was Dusty's woman?

Just then Dusty rounded the corner past the wagon with a large jug clasped in both hands. When he saw Lulu with Betsy he hesitated, but then seemed to puff his chest out and approached the girls, wearing a look of complete nonchalance. "Hey, Lulu," he said by way of greeting. "Just bringin' Betsy some water."

"You don't need to explain, Dusty," Lulu smiled. "Maybe you could bring me one too while yer at it." With that she chuckled throatily, winked at Betsy and disappeared back through the trees towards the campsite.

"Where did she come from?" Dusty asked, slopping a little water out of the jug as he turned to make sure the showgirl had gone.

"I don't know," Betsy giggled. "Maybe she thought I needed a chaperone."

"Oh. Why would you need a chaperone?"

"So that I'm not out here all alone with you," Betsy smiled, looking coyly at the ground.

"Oh." Dusty thought about that, then slopped even more water out of the jug.

"Dusty, you'd better fill the bowl before all the water's gone," Betsy laughed. She watched him as he bent down and tipped the jug's contents into the bowl, feeling the warm steam rising up into both their faces.

"I could get you some more," Dusty offered. "Be no problem."

Betsy bent and felt the temperature with her hand. "It's okay, Dusty, this should do. Thank you for bringing it, it's perfect."

"It was my pleasure, Betsy," he said, watching her trail her fingers in the water.

Betsy stood up and faced him, wondering if he was waiting for something. A kiss? There wasn't anyone else around, it would be a perfect opportunity. She stepped a little closer to him, unable to clearly see his shadowed features but knowing he was looking at her quite intently. She leaned in, put her fingers gently on his chest, tipped her face up to meet his, when...

"Dusty! Dusty, where are you, little pal?"

"Oh, no!" Dusty murmured. "Mr. Callahan. Again."

"Dusty, come on little pal, time to get started on supper." Mr. Callahan called again.

Betsy giggled. "Oh, dear, Dusty. I have a feeling we're being watched."

"Watched? They better not be watchin' you out here getting' a wash," Dusty said indignantly.

"Not me, Dusty, us. When we're alone together."

"Does that mean I can't kiss you?" he asked bluntly.

"No, it just means we'll have to be careful," Betsy told him.

"What do they think we're out here doing?" Dusty asked, quite innocently.

"I don't know," Betsy replied bashfully. "But we know we're not doing anything, right, Dusty?"

"Not if they keep showin' up," Dusty said mournfully.

"Dusty! Get out here, now!" Mr. Callahan called again, sharply this time.

Betsy hugged him quickly and kissed his cheek. "Go on and make your coffee," she said softly. "I'll come out and sit with you when I'm ready."

####

After washing and changing her clothes, Betsy went out into the main camp area. If she'd thought she could just quietly go over and sit with Dusty she was mistaken. Everyone immediately started fussing around her, asking her how she was. Daphne Brookhaven was quite vocal about the conditions on the trail being unsuitable for ladies with delicate constitutions. Betsy felt like saying I'm not that delicate, Mrs. Brookhaven, I'm not made of fine china. But it was impossible to dispute the Brookhavens, they had an innate sense of superiority where morals- and money- were concerned. Andy came over and put his hand against her forehead, saying that her temperature felt normal and she no longer looked quite so pale- not in the fire light, anyway. Mr. Callahan brought her some coffee and made her sit down on a log, and then he sat down next to her, with Lulu promptly parking herself on the other side. Dusty, hovering nearby, sighed briefly and then went back to stirring the pot of stew they were going to be having for their supper.

"Now, Betsy," said Mr. Callahan, "we want you to eat a decent meal tonight and take it easy. No getting up to do chores. Dusty can take care of the dishes and the sweeping and the firewood. You just take it easy."

Betsy looked over at Dusty who was pulling faces to himself. "Dusty doesn't have to do everything," she protested.

"Sweetheart, it's his turn," Mr. Callahan insisted, patting her hand.

"It's always my turn," Betsy heard Dusty mutter, slopping his ladle around in the stew.

"What's that, little pal?" Mr. Callahan said with a grin.

"Nothing, Mr. Callahan," Dusty responded with a childish grimace.

Betsy felt embarrassed by all the attention while poor Dusty was being sidelined. She hoped they weren't going to start suspecting that every time she and Dusty were alone together it was Dusty who instigated it. She would have to set them straight on that fact! She watched Dusty cooking the supper. All she wanted to do was go over and put her arms around him, he looked so in need of a hug.

He tried so hard, all the time, to do the right thing.

She couldn't even sit next to him while they ate, because this time Mrs. Brookhaven was on one side of her with Lulu on the other. Dusty had to sit on the opposite log with Andy and Mr. Callahan, as though the camp was suddenly segregated into male and female sections.

She picked at her food and didn't even feel like eating. While she had been washing in her lovely warm, soapy water she had been eagerly anticipating a nice hot plate of meat and vegetables, but now that the food was in front of her, her appetite was almost non-existent. It didn't help that Daphne Brookhaven's voice was like sharp glass in one ear, and Lulu gossiping away on the other side was just making her want to scream. She kept glancing over at Dusty, and found he was looking at her too. They had to have a conversation with their eyes because everyone else was jabbering so much.

"Honey, you've hardly eaten a thing," Lulu said, watching Betsy push clumps of meat around her plate.

"I'm not really hungry any more," Betsy confessed, looking up at Lulu's worried expression.

Lulu searched her friend's face with large, heavily made-up eyes. "I see how you keep lookin' over at him," she said, nodding her head towards where the men were sitting.

Betsy sighed. "It's like suddenly we're being kept apart," she said quietly. "And Dusty hasn't done anything wrong. He's a gentleman. Why is everyone so worried about us being alone?"

"Maybe we're just concerned for you, honey," Lulu said. "Out here on the trail, anything could happen."

"Like what?" Betsy lowered her voice so that Mrs. Brookhaven wouldn't hear.

"Like..." Lulu shrugged. "Honey, we're concerned, that's all. You know Dusty is Cal's 'little pal'- well, like a son, really. Guess he thinks Dusty's tryin' to run before he can walk, know what I'm sayin'?"

"No, I can't say I do," Betsy replied. "Dusty's always getting the blame for things he hasn't done. It's not like he's trying to get me alone or anything." She stabbed a piece of carrot so hard that it flew off the plate and landed on the ground. "We don't need to be watched," she muttered.

"Aw, honey, don't feel that way," Lulu smiled. "I'm your friend, right? And Cal's your friend too. No-one's tryin' to stop you gettin' to know Dusty, it's just that, well, think of it this way. If you'd met Dusty in a big city do you think you'd-a felt the same? Out here there really ain't much choice, know what I'm sayin'?"

Betsy stared wide eyed at Lulu. "What? Are you suggesting I'm only...that Dusty and I are...because there isn't anyone else?"

"Honey, I'm just sayin'. You're movin' awful fast, and that ain't like you. The heat does strange things- that and the lack o' different company. You see him every single day, it's kind of natural that an attachment would form. You know how I feel about you and Dusty, I'm just sayin' maybe you oughta slow down."

"Lulu, how could you?" Betsy whispered crossly. "One minute you're all for it, and now it's as if you and Mr. Callahan have suddenly joined forces to act like...like...well, I was going to say 'moral guardians', but..." Betsy left the sentence unfinished but the message was clear. No showgirl had the right to tell her how to conduct herself.

Lulu breathed in sharply. "Honey, I'm gonna pretend like you never said that."

"I'm sorry, Lulu, I didn't mean it the way it sounded." said Betsy. "But Dusty and I aren't children. We don't need chaperoning."

"On the contrary, my dear," came a sudden voice from her other side- Daphne Brookhaven had apparently been listening all along. "Of course you must be chaperoned! Why, we've already encountered lawless Indians and escaped convicts and those two dreadful ruffians who kidnapped you and Lulu and held you in that abandoned shack."

"Mrs. Brookhaven, you can't possibly put Dusty into the same category as those people. Besides, I remember Dusty doing everything he could to help get us away from those awful men- including dressing up in my clothes, which he hated." She glanced over at Dusty again, who looked as though he was getting a lecture of his own from Mr. Callahan. "It's just not fair. All I wanted was to sit with him at supper. It's no different to sitting with him on the stagecoach."

"My dear, we have no quarrel with you sitting on the stagecoach," said Mrs. Brookhaven sweetly. "It's what you were doing inside the stagecoach that worries us."

Betsy was horrified. "Mrs. Brookhaven! There was nothing untoward going on in that stagecoach!"

"Well, Betsy dear, the boy was hardly giving you a peck on the cheek, it looked more to me like the kiss of life!"

"Well, I don't think that's anybody's business," Betsy protested, gripping her plate until her knuckles went white.

"It is our business when it's our stagecoach," Mrs. Brookhaven said, "and my husband is funding this wagon train."

"Why, Mrs. Brookhaven, I had no idea you felt so strongly about me and Dusty- in fact, I had no idea everyone was so interested in me and Dusty! There I was worried about what my mother would think, but you all take the biscuit!" With that, Betsy let her plate fall with a clatter to the ground, spilling the rest of her supper into the dirt as she got up and ran across the clearing.

Dusty got up immediately to follow, but was held back by Mr. Callahan's firm grip on his forearm. However, he was in no mood to be thwarted this time, and rounded on Mr. Callahan like a terrier. "Leave me alone!" he said loudly, yanking his arm free, running after Betsy before Mr. Callahan could recover form his shock at being spoken to that way by Dusty, of all people.

####

"Betsy, Betsy!" Dusty wandered into the trees, following the direction she had gone in but unable to find her in the dark. He wondered if he could track her by her perfume, and stood for a minute sniffing the air, moving his head left and right, crouching down then straightening up, always sniffing.

A giggle from somewhere to his left finally alerted him to her whereabouts.

"I'm over here, Dusty," she said quietly. "Just please stop that awful sniffing!"

He went over and found her sitting on the ground leaning against a tree trunk. He sat down next to her and took her hand in his. "Did Lulu say something to make you mad?" he asked, lowering his voice in the darkness.

"No, not really. Mrs. Brookhaven said something about us kissing in their stagecoach."

"Oh she did, huh? Well, I'll bet we're the only ones who have kissed in their stagecoach," Dusty muttered indignantly.

Betsy giggled again. "Dusty! That's a terrible thing to say."

Dusty fidgeted into a more comfortable position that allowed Betsy to lean against him instead of the tree. "I don't care what they say," he said defiantly. "I like bein' with you, Betsy. And you know I wouldn't do anything to put you in danger."

Betsy snuggled into his side, pulled his arm around her shoulders. Twigs cracked under them as they shifted still closer together. "Do you remember our first meeting?" she asked softly, her lips almost buried in his neck.

"Back in St. Louis, you mean?" Dusty asked, inhaling the clean scent of her hair.

"Yes. When I dropped my gloves," Betsy said shyly.

The gloves! She did remember! Dusty felt pure joy welling up in his chest. "And I picked 'em up, but then as I was running towards you, I fell over that darned dog and landed on 'em and got 'em all dirty? You mean that time?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I looked down and there was the cutest man I ever did see lying right there at my feet. And you didn't even seem to mind that you'd fallen down in front of everyone and people were laughing."

"They were? I didn't notice." Because there was only one thing he'd noticed, and that was her beautiful big smile as she reached down and took the gloves out of his outstretched hand.

Betsy raised her hand and gently stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers. "I still have those gloves," she breathed into his ear, and then she pulled his face to hers and kissed him.

Dusty felt his toes curl straight away. And after his toes curled his spine tingled, and after that the back of his neck prickled as all the little hairs raised up, and after that he felt as though his mind was collapsing in on itself, and she kept kissing him and kissing him, with her arms tight around him, rubbing his shoulders and stroking his back and her fingers were winding through his hair, and after that...

"Oh my Gosh," he murmured suddenly, pushing himself away from her. "I think this is what Mr. Callahan was talking about."

"Dusty? What's wrong?" Betsy sat up straight, pushing the hair out of her face.

Dusty sat there in the shadows but somehow she knew there was a look of pure innocence on his face. "Oh, nothing."

She thought about that for a moment, then she burst into embarrassed giggles. "Oh, Dusty! I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay," he replied cheerfully.

"What do we do now?" she clamped both hands over her mouth, stifling her laughter.

"Um, we wait, I guess. Or I wait. You can go back to camp if you want."

"Oh, Dusty, I'm supposed to be shocked," Betsy said, trying not to look any further south than his neck. "Why aren't I shocked? Oh, you poor thing."

"Oh, it's no big deal," Dusty said, shrugging. "I'll just sit here and think about Mr. Callahan wearing women's clothing or something. That oughta do it."

Betsy got to her feet, still blushing furiously. "Dusty, what are we going to do with ourselves?" she asked plaintively. "If they find out about this, they'll never leave us alone!"

# # # #

Okay, so I ended it there...because I need a cold shower, ha ha

Stay tuned!