Author's note: thanks to fictorium for beta services.
Part 3
Regina Mills awoke with the dawn as she had every morning since coming to Book's Pass. Slipping from beneath her sheets, she bathed her face in the bracing cool water from the small basin beneath an oval gilded mirror hanging from a knot in the wood beam wall. She sat on the small three-legged stained wood stool. Taking up the horsehair brush, she pulled it in long continuous strokes through her mahogany locks, meeting her own gaze in the reflection. She counted her strokes and considered the plan for her day ahead.
The girls would already have collected the eggs from the laying hens. But she could probably start looking at the sheep and determining which were in need of shearing. She could trade eggs to the loom man along with his usual deal for some of the wool. That should be bargain enough to have a winter shawl made for Grace.
Regina hesitated. Would Grace even still be here when winter set into the valley? The air in the evenings was beginning to nip. If Grace wanted to leave Book's Pass, she should do it now, or she'd have to wait until spring. Did the girl know this? Did she intend to leave? Regina realized she needed to answer those questions before she took her day any further.
Pulling off her nightgown, Regina took a linen shift from the squat drawers at the foot of her bed. She pulled a day dress, simple cotton dyed tan, on over that and tied on a darker tan cloth belt to accentuate her waist. She slipped her feet into brown soft leather calf boots.
"Marybelle?" She called out for one of the women who kept her kitchen. Regina looked in the woman's bedroom across from her own. Probably already downstairs. Regina walked to the end of the second floor corridor and reached out for the railing.
"Miss Regina?"
Regina turned to find Grace, in what she suspected was a borrowed nightgown, leaning out from another bedroom. Rachel's and Sally's, Regina knew. OK. So the girls readily had taken the runaway under their wings. The girl's bright blue eyes were still staring at Regina.
"Why don't you walk with me down to the kitchen. We have a great deal to discuss."
Regina smiled as the girl showed her youth by readily jumping into the corridor without taking the time to grab a dressing gown to cover herself. So young. Regina shook her head, but said nothing.
The girl walked behind Regina but she was quite the chatterbox.
"Miss Regina, I must thank you for helping me yesterday. I know that it wasn't well thought out of me, but it's just... Have you met Mr. Whale?" The girl made a sound, a cross between what one might make when surprised by a snake and when cleaning up vomit from the floors of a saloon. It made Regina bite her lip to prevent a chuckle from escaping.
"I have, my dear. And that is a rather... vivid reaction. Thankfully we are not yet eating."
Grace laughed. It was a pretty sound, all tinkling like bells. And appropriate to the carefree youth she was. Regina envied the child's innocence.
But that youth was to be short-lived now. Grace had several grown up decisions to make, in relatively short order. "While we eat, you can tell me what you wish to do next."
"I don't know."
"Do you intend to leave Book's Pass?"
"Can I stay here? I'm a hard worker."
They had entered the kitchen. Marybelle, who ruled here with Regina's blessing, sat in the corner by the hearth, stirring a pot with one hand while reading a book in the other.
"There's only one open position in my establishment, Grace, and you're not old enough for it yet."
"You don't have anything else I can do? I can run a house. I've been running my papa's for two years since Mama died."
"Those are useful skills, but I do not have a place for them here." Regina accepted a bowl of oatmeal from Marybelle. She passed the dish to Grace. She nodded to a drawer and the girl withdrew a spoon from the silver laid within.
"Then why'd you take me in?" Grace sat in a chair at the polished wood table. Regina took her own bowl from Marybelle and the spoon Grace held out and sat down beside her.
"Exactly as the gunslinger said, to give you space to make your own choices."
"She had gone when I came back downstairs," Grace said. "I wanted to thank her, too."
"I am sure the woman has already moved on, my dear. She didn't seem the type to stay anyplace very long."
Grace pouted then her expression cleared. She dove into her oatmeal. Regina poured a bit of honey from a small jar in the middle of the table. Taking an apple from the fruit bowl laden with them, she lifted her hand. Marybelle placed a paring knife in her palm. "Thank you, Marybelle."
"You're welcome, Miss Regina. There's fresh milk in the pitcher. Sammy brought it in from the guernsey."
"Thank you." Regina reached for the aforementioned pitcher as Marybelle brought two mugs to the table.
"Will there be anythin' else?"
"I can wash the dishes," Grace offered eagerly.
"Well then, there you have it. Go finish your book in the parlor, Marybelle. Miss Grace Jameson will do the dishes."
"Yes, Miss Regina."
"Do scribe a list of things you need. I'm making a trip to the general store when I come back from seeing to the shearing."
"Yes, Miss Regina." Following her words, Marybelle quit the kitchen leaving Regina and Grace alone eating their oatmeal.
"Shearing?" Grace asked.
"Yes, I also own a flock of 47 sheep."
"I could watch them for you."
Regina appreciated the girl's quick thinking. "I already have several girls do that in shifts." Grace's face fell. "However, until you do decide what to do, I suppose you could help out."
The bright smile returned to the girl's face and Regina frowned at herself as she turned her attention back to her breakfast. When they were finished, Regina left the girl washing the dishes and went to the parlor to get the list from Marybelle.
"Marybelle, do you have it?"
"On the table, ma'am," the woman said, not looking up from her paperback.
"What are you reading today?"
"A new one from Mr. Twain," she replied absently.
"Is it good?" Grace asked.
"I find it so," Marybelle replied.
Regina watched the interaction with detachment. "I'm going to take Grace with me to the shearing then the store."
"You going alone?" Marybelle asked.
Regina nodded. "Of course. Who else would I go with?"
"Visitor outside," Marybelle replied before retreating behind her book once more.
Regina stalked to the door. If it was Jameson, she'd get the shotgun, she vowed. Yanking the door open, she stormed onto the porch. "Miss Swan?"
Emma Swan had made herself at home on the wood slats, feet kicked up on the railing with Regina's shotgun lain across her thighs. Her clothes were clean, and her boots were even shined from the usual trail dust.
"How long have you been out here?"
Swan looked up at her, hands still crossed over the shotgun stock and barrel.
"Long enough to assure your night remained quiet."
"Miss Swan, I do not need your protection. It is more likely I will have more trouble if it gets 'round I have a guard."
"Where're you headed this fine morning?" Emma unfolded to her feet, standing before Regina and glancing at Grace. "Good mornin' to you, Miss Grace."
"Miss Swan," Grace gushed. "You stayed! I wanted to thank you for yesterday."
"No problem, kid." Emma smiled at the girl then turned that smile on Regina.
"So where're you goin' today?"
Regina was disinclined to say, but Grace, silly girl, was guileless and excited. "We're going to shear the sheep!"
Emma looked to Regina for confirmation. Setting her jaw, Regina only looked at Grace. "Come along, dear."
Regina ignored Emma as she led Grace down the steps and into the street. There was a clatter and then footsteps followed. She glared over her shoulder, grabbed Grace's shoulders and steered her another way. "This way, dear." Over her shoulder she cast, "Not you, Miss Swan."
"Can I interest you in a bit of breakfast?" Emma replied, moseying as casual as you please, thumbs hanging from the loops of her denims.
"Grace and I have already eaten." Regina said nothing more, stalking away from Emma Swan and her proprietary looks. Grace was running after her to keep up. Once she reached the livery, Regina looked over her shoulder. Good, she thought, not seeing Emma Swan anywhere behind her.
"Miss Regina, what are you doing here?"
"Grace and I are going for a ride," she said, still looking around. "Would you saddle my horse?"
Ruby set aside the hay fork she'd had in her hands, leaning it against the livery wall, and disappeared inside the stable.
When her bay was led out, Regina lifted Grace into the saddle first then swung up behind her, riding astride with her split skirt. "Ready, dear?" Grace was holding onto the pommel with white knuckles, but she nodded vigorously.
Regina walked her horse down Main Street, looking this way and that as she held the girl before her on the saddle.
Mr. Carter, the blacksmith, stopped hammering and watched her pass. Mr. Innaker, the potter, stopped his wheel. Both men said nothing and went back to their work, casting their eyes quickly away. Regina was used to this treatment, the odd detente between seeing Regina as a woman and then remembering what business she had in their town.
Shaking off the melancholy, Regina turned her horse off the Main Street and told Grace to hold tightly. She geed her horse to a smooth loping gallop. Snug between her arms, Grace's anxiety soon gave way to breathless giggles.
Regina, too, was light of heart by the time she spotted the sheep herd milling on the lee side of a rocky outcropping. Vivian and Caroline leaned on crooked staffs in the shade of a large poplar. Both women looked up at the sound of hoofbeats. Their expressions were warm at first then to Regina's surprise turned consternated and wary. Vivian went to the red gingham covered pile nearby and came up shouldering the shotgun. "Miss Regina!" she said, and her voice held clear warning.
"Put down the gun, Vivian. It's just me. This is Grace."
"Get down," Vivian said. She hadn't lowered the shotgun.
Regina dismounted, pulling Grace down as Caroline came hurrying up. "Who's your shadow?" Caroline asked.
"My what?" Regina turned then and felt the heat rise fast and furious to her face. "Miss Swan!" she yelled, grabbing the shotgun from Vivian. "I told you to leave me alone."
Emma stopped her horse, remained mounted, and her gun remained holstered. The shotgun she'd taken from Regina's porch nowhere in sight. Wary but curious, Regina slowly lowered her shotgun.
"Why are you still here?" she demanded.
"May I dismount and trust you not to put a plug in my stomach?"
Regina directed with the barrel of the shotgun. "Toss your gun belt first."
"I'm no danger to you," Emma replied.
"I'll be the judge of what and what is not a danger to me and mine."
Emma slid from the back of her horse. It's name flitted through Regina's memory. Bug. The golden horse stepped away from Emma and began cropping at the grass.
Regina stared at Emma. "Why do you call him Bug?" She frowned at the curiosity which had seized control of her tongue.
Emma came closer and Regina found her gun barrel lowering, her arms acting on a will of their own.
"He was always bugging me for treats when he was a foal," Emma replied easily, conversationally.
"You've had him since he was a foal?"
Emma smiled. "Yeah."
Regina felt the heat of her anger recede from her chest. Under Emma Swan's steady regard, a faint smile playing at the corner of pale lips, the heat moved to Regina's cheeks. Unaccountably her stomach fluttered.
"So," Emma said, turning away to take in the other women and the sheep quietly cropping grass. "This is your flock?"
"Yes."
"You're a resourceful woman, Miss Regina."
"Thank you." Regina watched Vivian and Caroline stare between her and Emma Swan. "These are are Vivian and Caroline."
Emma nodded and smiled at both women. "Emma," she introduced herself.
Both women looked at Emma with awe, and a knot of frustration made Regina curt. "We'd better start the shearing. We don't have all day."
"We started separating the ewes," Vivian said.
"Good. Well..." Regina looked around. It would take her and Vivian all their attention to shear the sheep. "Grace, would you assist Caroline with herding?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Caroline took Grace under her right arm and walked toward the main body of the flock.
Regina resolutely ignored Emma Swan, turning her back on the blonde and meeting Vivian's curious gaze. "All right, let's get to work."
Regina felt Emma Swan's eyes on her as she worked, and it itched as much as the sweat that was soon pouring down her back from the strenuous task of wrestling a ewe between the two stakes and tying it in place. Vivian worked with one blade on the animal's right side while Regina worked on the left. A burlap bag took the clippings.
Regina knew the next sheep would fill the first bag and started looking around for the second bag.
Suddenly Emma Swan was holding a burlap sack outstretched and opened between her hands. "Here you go."
In her surprise, Regina lost her grip on the sheep and the straight razor slipped against her hand. "Ow!"
A tan bandanna was pulled tightly around her wrist where the blade had caught. She tried to pull her hand to her chest, but Emma Swan would not relinquish it. "Let me go!"
"Just hold on a sec." Emma's voice was calm, businesslike. Soothing. Regina growled. Emma chuckled. "I ain't wrestled anyone as contrary as you about takin' help, Regina. Just be still. I gotta see if you hit anything vital."
Regina looked down at her hand and wrist wrapped in the bandanna. The tan cloth was liberally stained with blood, her blood, and she felt her pulse throbbing in the other woman's grip. Her vision swam and she swayed. Emma's grabbed her and pulled her to a boulder nearby. "Sit," Emma said. Regina felt behind her with the other hand and gradually lowered to the stone surface.
The bandanna was gingerly pulled away and Emma poked and prodded the skin. Finally she declared, "A nick only. It's already stopped bleeding."
"I have bandages in my saddlebags," Regina said, her head lowered between her shoulders, trying to recover from her near faint. And truthfully, to keep from looking at Swan and seeing an "I told you so" expression.
"All right." Emma's touch vanished and Regina found herself lifting her head enough to follow boots walking across the ground. She heard a whistle and then hoofbeats. Golden legs stopped alongside dusty denim, and Regina heard the slap and pull of leather straps as Emma opened her saddlebags.
Clean white cloth pressed to Regina's damaged wrist, and then whiskey splashed the torn skin. A helpless gasp escaped Regina's lips at the pain, then a different clean white cloth was gently wrapped around her wrist and efficiently tied off in a little knot. Regina stared at the knotted cloth, not reacting as Emma Swan stepped away.
A handkerchief appeared under her nose. Regina looked up at Emma as she took it. "For your face," Emma said quietly. Regina was suddenly very aware of the tear tracks beginning to dry on her cheeks.
Regina rubbed her cheeks and dabbed at her eyes, then she squared her shoulders and stood. She felt Emma's eyes on her but turned instead to Vivian. "Let's finish things, shall we?"
"Yes, ma'am."
As Regina returned to shearing, Emma Swan settled on the boulder and Regina couldn't help but glance frequently over as the woman idly stroked her golden horse's head, eyes scanning this way and that, watching over the area. A self-appointed guard.
xxx