Thank you for your reviews and your insights. They are so much appreciated! The next chapter is for the several guests, for Chris OHB, for LMS, for WiwitDM – all of whom wanted to read more about the boys (the twins are around thirteen years here, Gerry is about eleven). I hope you enjoy!

"We're lost again," Gerry asserted, with finality.

"No, we're not!" Perry insisted. "The town is east of the main house, and we're walking east. We're bound to stumble across it. Sooner or later."

"We were walking east. Before we took this so-called short cut of yours." Gerry found a fallen tree-trunk, and sat himself down. The undergrowth was dense in the subtropical clime, and difficult for hiking off the beaten trails. Their light, ankle-high leather shoes were also not ideal for brambles. "I'm not going anywhere anymore. We shoulda had someone drive us in the buggy. Or at least asked Cousin Thad how to get there." He placed his mother's square chin on her small, sturdy hands, and pronounced, ex cathedra: "This was a dumb idea to begin with."

Perry shook his head obstinately. "Just this one more hill, Gerry," he coaxed. He did not want to admit that he, too, was becoming disheartened. "I'm sure we can see the town once we're over the crest."

Dan, who had been silently studying his surroundings, and the position of the sun, now weighed in. "I think Perry's right."

Gerry sighed. Dan was a slightly more trustworthy navigator than their elder brother. "All right. One more hill. If we can't see the town from there, you two can do whatever you like, but I'm going home."

He was rewarded by a wide pirate's grin, uncannily like his father's.

When they had crossed the crest, they could see the trees lighten, and the town lay sprawling below them.

"You see?" Perry called, triumphantly.

Gerry snorted, hiding his relief. "Now what do we do?"

"We go to the Bakery, and ask for her."

His younger brother, no longer burdened down with thoughts of camp-outs in the company of rattlesnakes and alligators, looked at him with some derision. "She probably doesn't even remember you."

Perry chose not dignify that remark with an answer. They scrambled quickly down to the foot of the hill, heedless of cloying brambles, and slowly started walking down Main Street. A couple of ox carts passed them, loaded with wood. The boys were unaware that they attracted a fair amount of attention, and some surreptitious whispers. In this part of the country, hardy farmers eked out a meager living, and some independent business men owned stores and sold their wares, but most labor was connected, in some way or another, to the cattle ranches.

"Here it is," Perry announced, stopping before a two-story wood building, with "Griffin's Bakery" sprawled across a large sign with chipped, white letters.

"Well, go in then, and ask for her," Gerry said. The establishment did not seem overly busy at this time of day. If indeed at any. When he took over his mother's stores, he wouldn't allow the paint to chip like this. Or the windows to be so streaky.

"Ummmm…well…" Perry mumbled.

"What?"

"She doesn't actually know me."

Gerry threw his brother a look of disgust. "What do you mean?"

"I've never ….well…you know…..talked to her."

"Oh my," Gerry said, shaking his head. "You mean you've dragged us here all this way to…."

"I just wanted to see her again," Perry admitted, somewhat glumly. "When I stayed here by myself two years ago, I'd watch her in Church every Sunday, when she'd sing with Cousin Thad." He looked at his brothers, animation returning to his voice. "Don't you remember her? She has hair like…. sunshine. And a voice like an angel."

The other two thought back.

"She looked kinda scrawny to me," Gerry pronounced, judiciously.

"Maybe she's in the house," Dan offered, advanced age making him somewhat more sympathetic to his brother's plight. They had walked around the house to the back of the property. Dan lifted his green eyes to the second story, presumably where the baker and his family lived. "We could climb up there, and look into her window."

Gerry's pragmatic streak far outdistanced that of the twins. "You don't even know which one is hers."

Perry's eyes gleamed at the thought of such daring adventure in the quest of a fair lady. It was so much better in life, than in books. "We could climb up the balcony, and look in, until we see her." He felt sure the strawberry blonde girl would appreciate his audacity.

Gerry sighed. "What if her mother catches you? Or her father?"

"They'll be up front, in the bakery. Working."

"And she'll be in school."

"You're just a spoilsport," his brother admonished. He had already grabbed an overhanging branch of a near-by cherry tree, and started to shimmy up to the second story balcony.

"You'll fall and break your neck," his brother prophesized cheerfully.

Perry, who had climbed trees in the Galveston Orchard since graduating from infancy, merely snorted. With the agility of a monkey, he swung himself over the balustrade, and triumphantly stared down at the two boys below. "See? Nothing to it."

He then turned his back to them, and proceeded to look into the windows.

"See anything?" Dan called, from below, craning his neck.

"Nothing yet," came the reply, muffled from pressing his nose against the glass.

Suddenly, there was the touch of cold metal at the back of Dan's neck. Dan gave a yelp as he recognized it for what it was – the muzzle of a double-barreled shotgun. Perry and Gerry froze.

"Just what do you boys think you're doing?" said a man's voice. Two pairs of bright green eyes stared at him in horror. "Stealing, from the looks of you," the man continued. "You boys're Mr. Watling's relations, are you not? I would have expected better of the likes of you."

"We weren't stealing," Gerry replied, with what dignity the situation afforded.

"Oh?" The man did not remove the muzzle of the shotgun from Dan's neck. "And what, pray, were you up to, then?"

"Well…."

"Out with it!" He gave Dan a light shove for emphasis.

Perry unfroze, and leaned over the balustrade. "Please, Sir," he called down, "don't shoot my brothers! It was all my fault."

"Sure seems like it," the man agreed. "If you behave like grown-ups, nothing will happen ter you. You, up there - come down, and we can talk."

Perry, although paler than usual, nodded. "I will. Please don't hurt them!"

He skimmed down the tree again, and stood bravely before his accuser.

"So - what was this all about?" The voice was still stern.

"Well …..Sir…" Perry drew a deep breath. "You are the baker, are you not?"

"Last time I checked, I was." The man lowered his gun, and held out his hand. Perhaps he had remembered how unwise it could be to frighten a rancher's family members for too long, or too much - no matter how justified one believes oneself to be. "Mr. Griffin, at your service, boys."

Perry took it, and shook it vigorously. "I….seen your daughter in Church. The one who sings with our cousin. I just wanted to …. talk to her."

Understanding dawned on the man's face, and he grinned broadly. "Is that all? Where you come from, don't your folks teach you this ain't the way to be introduced to a girl?"

"We didn't exactly …..ask them before we came," Perry admitted.

"Appears not," the Baker agreed, amiably. "Which one're you?"

"Peregrine Butler. You can call me Perry. Sir. "

"Well, Mr. Peregrine, our Stella is in school now, as she should be. If your mother brings you and your brothers by our place Sunday afternoon, you'll find her and her siblings ready to receive you for tea. You can all have a fun party, and talk like civilized folks." He winked at the boys. "That's how we do those things around here."

There was profound relief on Perry's face. Stella, he thought. "Thank you, Sir."

"Now off with you, before your folks worry."

"Yes, Sir."

The three boys scrambled off. The man looked after them, a hint of speculation in his eyes. His daughter was not what most people would call pretty, but she sang nicely, and her mother was the town's schoolmarm, which gave their children some social standing in addition to his. The baker had occasionally allowed himself to dream, that in a few years, his daughter's undisputed musical talents would attract the attention of Thad Watling as more than just a soloist. This, however, was even better. It would be an even greater mismatch, the baker acknowledged, but a daughter of his wasn't entirely ineligible even for the likes of a Mr. Peregrine Butler from Charleston. Or rather, for the likes of the man that boy would one day become. If his interest persisted, Stella might have a chance at a much more glamorous future than her father would have ever been able to provide for her.

Not to mention the boost it would give his own, and his wife's, reputation, should Scarlett Butler actually stoop to visit his house with her sons.

Mr. Griffin walked back to the bakery, determined to do everything in his power to encourage the acquaintance.

~~oo~~

"Rose is in bed with a headache," Scarlett announced to her husband. "Which is very strange, because she never has the headache! She wanted to come for breakfast, but she looked so ill that I told her to lay back down."

Rhett eyed her speculatively. "Did you."

"Yes," Scarlett affirmed, nodding vigorously. "I'll have the maid bring her some tea, and perhaps some soup later on! And I have no idea where the boys are. I assume they're out playing with that frightful pig again! But in the meantime, I was hoping you would accompany me on a walk." She dimpled charmingly, and cast down her thick, black lashes. "The weather is so nice, you see, and I did want to talk to you badly!"

Her husband needed no further prompting. "It will be entirely my pleasure, Mrs. Butler."

He helped his wife into a light, green overcoat, and they stepped outside. The May air was mild, and the morning sun bright, and fresh. There was a narrow pathway between the horse pastures, and they slowly walked past a group of mares, contently grazing with their foals. The cattle pastures stretched further back into the horizon, encased by sturdy, wooden fences. There was an aromatic scent in the air - cedar posts, dried for a year, Thad had told them, made of the high-quality local cedars which withstood even the wet weather of East Texas without rotting. Calving had also ended for the season, and the cows could be heard in the distance, calling to their young.

Scarlett, her arm linked securely through Rhett's, seemed to blossom like a flower in the fresh country air. "It's all very different from Tara," she mused. "And it's been an unusually dry May, for which I'm grateful! The rain in late Spring and early Summer I can't say I've ever liked. But it feels like home to me, more than our house in Charleston ever did." She cast a glance at him, as if trying to discern whether this slight upon his hometown offended him. But he merely laughed.

"It wasn't I who wanted to return there," he reminded her. "Even now, but for Wade and his family, there is nothing to hold us."

Scarlett nodded. "If it works out between Rose and Thad….."

"I think it will," her husband asserted easily. "She's loved him ever since she was a girl, and he's waited around long enough for her to grow up. They would be foolish to give up on each other now."

"You and I were plenty foolish," Scarlett reminded him, with a blush. "For much longer than that." She shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of the unwelcome memories. "And Belle…." Scarlett sighed. "You may very well tell me my imagination is running away with me, but sometimes I think she doesn't like our Rose!"

From the other side of the fence, a brown yearling stretched out its long, soft nose, hoping for a carrot, or perhaps for dried apples. Scarlett scratched him apologetically behind his long ears. "Sorry, my friend. I should have thought to bring you something." She often fed him treats on her walks with Rhett, or with Ella.

"What makes you believe Belle doesn't like her?" Rhett enquired, curiously. He had not thought that Scarlett had noticed the antipathy.

"Oh, just the way she looks at her sometimes. And when I speculate about Thad and Rose getting married, she never seems all that happy!" Scarlett shook her head, her earrings dancing becomingly. "I don't quite understand it ….it's not like Thad could hope to marry someone better than Rose! In fact, I can't imagine anyone else like us permitting their daughter to marry someone like him. Not only is he illegitimate, but …well, you know!"

"Yes," Rhett said, dryly. "I know. And Thad knows, even better than we do, even if Rose does not. And you're quite right, at least when it comes to the South. And perhaps that is part of the problem. Belle may not want Thad's wife to be quite as much her social superior. Someone she feels may despise her, and try to alienate her son from her."

"But Rose would never…."

"You and I know that. However, Belle might not."

Scarlett shook her head in bewilderment. "It is very strange!" It was unimaginable to her that someone might not delight in acquiring such a daughter-in-law as Rose - who was, after all, the living embodiment of her own girlhood. She suddenly changed track. "And do you know what else Belle told me, Rhett?"

He stopped again, and looked into eyes the color of depthless, green water. "What, my dear?"

Scarlett blushed. "I honestly don't even remember how this came up! I really try not to talk to Belle about her former occupation, especially because it reminds me of things I'd rather not think about!" At her husband's sudden look of discomfort, she quickly added, "no, darling, not because of …that! Believe me or not, I understand that you only went to her because I was horrid to you - and it wasn't her fault that she loved you, way back then. It was all so very long ago. And everything is so different between you and me now, thankfully!" She cast him a look that, after all this time, still took his breath away. "No, we were talking about Thad….and the murder…and how we had finally caught Elsa, and Thomas, and how difficult it was to find a suspect, even for the police. Well, she mentioned Ashley being there that night, and she told me that he was an unlucky fellow, to become a murder suspect the first and only time he had ever entered her establishment!"

Rhett said nothing.

"Why did you lie to me?" Scarlett asked. Her tone was not angry, or even accusatory. "I distinctly remember you telling me Ashley had been a regular client at – well, that place, even before Melly's death!"

He sighed. "What does it matter, now?"

"Not much," she acknowledged, with a strange little smile. "I just …..want to know."

His gaze followed the flight of the swallows into the azure sky. She waited, with a patience only long years of marriage to Rhett Butler can provide.

"You and I…..were at a difficult…..a very fragile stage of our reconciliation," he said, finally. "I had …almost…..convinced myself to try again, but I was still very unsure. About my own feelings…..about yours….and whether I could trust, first and last, that the not-so-honorable Ashley Wilkes had really disappeared forever from your heart and mind, as you'd asserted." Scarlett listened, but remained silent. Another useful talent that decades of matrimony had taught her. "So to put it bluntly - I lied," he continued. "I hadn't planned it, but once it was out, I didn't feel like taking it back. Perhaps," he added slowly, and candidly, "perhaps some part of me hoped it would discredit him further in your eyes.'

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "You told me not to … judge him too harshly. Or something like that."

He grinned, wryly. "To make him look even worse…and myself, magnanimous, I'm afraid."

Scarlett shook her head. "Men," she ejaculated to the universe at large."I haven't given Ashley a second thought since Melly's death, and very rarely even before." At her husband's look of disbelief, she clarified, "at least after…..well, you know. After the night of …..the birthday party, it's really only ever been you on my mind. But honestly, it's always only been you. I was just..." she sighed, "so young, and too blind to see it." She gave the arm she was holding a tight squeeze, and briefly laid her head against his shoulder. Had he been able to see her face, he might have caught the look he had searched for in his twenty-three year old bride, but never found - bashful, tender, and full of wonder.

Rhett returned the squeeze with interest. "Yes, I do know that now," he said, with gratitude, resting his chin on her hair. "And look – it barely took us thirty years to get here."

"I hope Rose and Thad won't take quite that long," his wife laughed, shaking her head again.

"They come from stubborn stock," Rhett grinned, pulling her in for a kiss, obviously relieved that his confession about Ashley had been met with no explosion of Scarlett's still fiery temper.

"How is Ella?" he asked a few minutes later, determined to leave Ashley Wilkes behind them once and for all.

Scarlett, whose hair was perhaps slightly more rumpled than at the outset of their walk, easily allowed herself to be distracted. "She really worries me! She just seems to become - thinner and thinner. I've asked Rose yesterday if she can recommend any medicine, but she says science has yet to develop a cure for a broken heart." She shook her head. "I hope it's not true …that Ella's heart is broken, I mean! But it sure seems like it, at times. Rose said to attempt to distract her, and take her out as much as possible, which we have all been trying, but….."

"She took the loss of the baby very hard," Rhett agreed, thoughtfully.

Scarlett nodded in full agreement. "I hope they have another one, soon!"

Her husband did not enlighten her that Chase, Ella's husband, had cornered him in the Charleston mansion one evening many moons ago - asking for help with the procurement of preventatives.

"I can't put Ella through this agony again," Chase had asserted. "After the flood …..I spoke to Rose about it, what with her being a doctor, and devilishly uncomfortable it was to do so! But at least, Rose is family. I wanted to know if she thought Ella and I should continue to have ….separate beds." The young man had flushed fiercely, but continued bravely, "She educated me about our ….options, that I'd had no idea about. But she said to procure the… I would have to talk to my father… or, if I thought he would be of no use, to you, seeing that you're Ella's father, as well."

"It may be a long time before they have another," Rhett now told his wife. "Maybe it will never happen for them."

"I hope not," his wife said, softly. "I have a feeling that nothing will help her, but having another child." He cast her a glance, and she added thoughtfully, "like having Rose has helped us. After we lost Bonnie." He drew her close, but did not answer.

Arm in arm, they continued, touching only on mundane topics for the remainder of their walk. Far overhead, a hawk sailed by, gliding on the currents of the wind.

~~oo~~

Tradition had a long name for him - one of the Isɬopotilka, the medicine people. There were other, even longer, titles, which he had inherited upon the death of his teacher. But to his people, he was still simply known as Okla – the Friend. He walked slowly down the streets, conscious of the looks the townspeople gave him – part derision, part fear. Some merely looked away, others went to far as to cross to the other side of the street, spitting into the red dust as he approached.

When he entered the telegraph office, the lanky, tanned boy behind the counter looked up, and gave him a friendly smile. It was like that with some people, who could look beyond all outward trappings of color or status, to the person beneath. But they were rare, and far between. It had been so with Thad Watling, to the blessing of his tribe. And the pale, dark-haired girl he had brought with him that day, who had tried, but not quite succeeded, to lay aside the prejudices of her times, but who had still offered them her skills.

Aissihatka, the white man's medicine. That he was determined to understand better.

"Nothing today," the other boy said, apologetically.

"Perhaps tomorrow," Okla replied, in his soft, perfectly articulated English.

He turned, and walked slowly back down the street to the Reservation. Almost at the end of the town, he passed a blonde woman, heavy with child, whom he recognized. He regarded her surreptitiously as she passed. She walked briskly despite her condition, as oblivious to him as she was to the rest of her surroundings. Her face was hard, and closed.

"Imintaniska," he thought, in the language of his fathers. "Fear." And then another thought rose, unbidden, to his mind."Iⁿhollo" - "Dangerous."

My apologies to the Alabama tribe for murdering their tenses, and their singulars. Re: Ashley, it took me quite a looong time to tie up that particular loose end, did it not? But I finally got to it. :)

Unless the plot dervishes intervene again, next up: the Bad Old Days between Rhett & Rose.