31 October

The leaves were starting to fall, drifting to the ground like golden brown snowflakes, carpeting the earth. The sky was blue, the sun shining but the wind cold and as Eloise crossed the thoroughfare towards the clinic, she pulled her shawl tighter around herself, shivering slightly in the chilly air.

"Morning Eloise," Michaela greeted her at the door. "Come in."

"Thank you. It's certainly cold out there today."

"Yes, there's no denying that winter is coming." Michaela gestured to the bed. "Take a seat. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"I still get a twinge every now and then in my back, if I move one way or the other," she admitted. "I'm hoping you're going to tell me that's normal and not that I've got something seriously wrong with me." Since her fall from Willow several weeks earlier, her back had continued to plague her with pain. In the immediate aftermath, once the initial adrenaline and cold had worn off, she had been almost unable to walk, incurring many a mean-spirited smile from Olivia as she'd hobbled from one end of the bar to the other. Hot baths had gone some way to relieving the discomfort and though she was much improved, still found herself sometimes waking at night.

"Well, by all accounts you took quite a serious knock," Michaela said. "Do you mind if I examine you?"

"No, not at all." She perched on the edge of the bed as the other woman gently pressed down in and around her back. "Ow! Ooh, right there."

"That's painful?"

"Yes."

"It's possible that you bruised part of your spinal cord when you fell. It's not a bruise like we can see on the skin, but more of an internal bruise to the bone itself. Blood can build up around the area as a result of an injury and take some time to dissipate."

"But it's been almost a month. Surely it would have healed by now?"

"Some injuries can take longer to heal than others. I'm fairly certain that you haven't fractured any bones in your spine. If you had, then you likely wouldn't be able to walk at all." Michaela smiled. "I know it's difficult, but rest really is the best thing for it."

"Well, I've been trying to rest when I can, but I've so many orders to complete before Christmas that every time I'm sat down, I'm busy sewing. Not to mention I like to help out in the bar when I can." Michaela said nothing. "You still don't approve of my living there."

"You seem to have made the saloon very much your home over the last few months."

"I suppose I have, in a way and I can only take comfort in how busy I am with orders. If people in town disapprove of me then they're certainly not showing it by way of a lack of custom."

"I'm glad business is going well," Michaela said. "We're lucky to have someone of your talents in town."

"Well, perhaps I could start some sort of mail order business, once I'm gone. People could still order from me, and I could ship the hats back to town."

Micheala paused. "You're definitely leaving then…by Christmas?"

"That was always the plan…"

"But?"

Eloise looked up and met the other woman's gaze, all her thoughts and feelings on the topic surfacing. "Sometimes I don't know. I've grown accustomed to this town and the people in it. I often wonder what it would be like to stay…perhaps buy my own house…make my life here…"

"Your own house?"

"Yes." She paused at Michaela's expression. "You thought if I stayed, I would remain at the saloon forever?"

"Well, I…I suppose I thought…"

"Thought what?"

"Well…you and Hank…that you might…" Michaela trailed off.

"Oh…" she felt her cheeks flush. "No…no it's…it's not like that between us. We're friends, good friends, and he's done so much for me since I came here but…there's nothing more to it than that."

"I see."

"Besides, weren't you one of the most vocal in cautioning me against marrying him in the first place?"

It was Michaela's turn to redden. "Yes, I was but…well I suppose I've seen a change in Hank over these last few months. He seems…happy…and there was a time when I would never have ascribed such a feeling to him."

"I don't believe that has anything to do with me."

"I believe it has a lot to do with you. But if you don't care for one another in that way…"

"I…" Eloise broke off, unsure how to even begin articulating how she felt. What did it mean to care for a man, any man? Did it mean that a woman's stomach flipped over every time he looked at her? Did it mean that a woman's pulse raced and her heart beat faster every time he touched her, accidental or otherwise? Did it mean that she thought about what it might be like were he to kiss her? Did it mean that when she closed her eyes, she could see his naked torso beneath her lids? She had told herself repeatedly that those thoughts, those feelings, as more and more prominent as they had started to become when she looked upon the man who was her husband, were nothing more than lust, no better than what was shared between whore and customer before her very eyes every night, and nothing akin to true love.

There had to be more than simply a physical feeling. There had to be something definite and identifiable, and she had no idea what that was or what that felt like. All she did know, was that he had loved Myra, seemingly still did despite everything, and that whilst there had been times, alone in the dead of night with her thoughts, when she had considered what it might be like to invite him into her bed, that was all it would be – lust.

He didn't love her, he never would, and she could never give herself physically to any man, even Hank, knowing that.

"I suppose I do care for him," she said finally, "but just, as you said…not in that way."

"Well, in any event, the two of you seem to get along well, and that's half the battle." Michaela turned to her cabinet, lifted a small bottle and brought it over to her. "I'd like you to take these essential oils. If you rub them onto your back and leave them to dry into the skin, they should provide some relief. Other than that, I'm afraid it simply takes time."

"Thank you," Eloise replied, turning the bottle over in her hand. "I'll try anything at this point." Stepping down from the bed, she moved to the door and turned back to face the other woman. "Are you going to the Halloween party this evening?"

"Yes, the children are terribly excited."

"I'll see you there then," she said, before opening the door and stepping back out into the morning air, sliding the bottle into the pocket of her dress as she caught sight of Hank driving the wagon down the street from the livery towards her. He smiled when he saw her, and she felt the familiar flip in her stomach as he pulled to a stop next to her.

"Figured ya could use another lesson," he said, squinting at her in the sunshine.

"Lust…" she whispered to herself as she made her way across to him. "Just lust."

XXXX

"Sure yer back's up to this?"

"Yes, it's fine," Eloise replied, as he helped her up into the seat. "Michaela said it's probably just a bruise that's taking longer to go away than I might otherwise like. I suppose I'll just add it to my list of injuries sustained since I've been in town." Flicking the reins, she urged Hurricane forwards, and they began to roll slowly down the street. "She gave me some essential oils that might be helpful. I thought I might ask one of the girls to help me with them later."

"Help ya how?"

"Well, they're supposed to be applied to the affected area and left to soak into the skin to try and relieve discomfort. I might be dextrous, but I doubt even I could reach all the way around there."

"Hell, if it's rubbin' yer needin', always bin told I got magic hands."

She looked at him sideways. "Who told you that?"

"Lots of folks."

"I dread to think."

They drove on out towards the outskirts of town, and he couldn't help but wonder why he had felt the need to tell her that. In what way did alluding to how many women he might have bedded in the past endear him to her in any way? How did it help elevate him in her mind beyond a man with no scruples and even less morals? But then, he reminded himself, why was even attempting to make himself seem worthy? It was a fool's errand, and he was no fool.

"Gotta keep him straight," he said, turning his attention back to her driving skills.

"I'm trying, but you know what he's like."

"Exactly like ridin. Gotta make sure the horse knows who's in charge. Give him as much slack as he needs to keep goin', but make sure he knows yer in control. Doin' better than ya was the first few times at any rate."

"I doubt I could do much worse than driving us into a ditch."

"Could've turned us over. As it was, managed to get Willow to back up and no harm done."

"Yes…"

Her gaze took on a faraway look, and he knew she was thinking about the mare. He had offered for her to ride Hurricane many times since the incident, but she had always refused, and he wasn't sure if it was because she was scared of the stallion or if she just didn't want to ride again. "Horse sale on in Beaver Falls next week."

"Oh, yes?"

"Thinking about goin'. Figured I'd pick ya up another mare."

She looked at him quickly. "Oh…you don't have to do that."

"Know I don't have to…want to. Reckon ya oughta be doin' with one. Gotta git ya back in the saddle 'fore ya lose all the confidence ya had." She said nothing. "Come with me if ya want, or ya can just trust me to pick one fer ya."

"I don't know Hank…"

"Don't know what?"

"Maybe I don't need a horse…maybe I don't need to ride. If I keep practicing driving, maybe it would be easier to just get about in a wagon."

"And how long does it take to hitch up a wagon in comparison to saddlin' a horse? Not to mention the fact that a wagon ain't always the easiest thing to take places, as ya found out the last few times." She sighed and shook her head. "Look, we can go back to basics. I'll ride with ya, make sure yer gonna be alright…"

"It's not about that."

"Then what's it about?"

"I just…I just don't want to get attached again in case…in case I do something wrong, and something happens."

"It's just a horse," he said, "ain't like it's a person ya'd be gettin' attached to that ya might need to let go of." She looked over at him again, her expression pained, and a sensation coursed through his body that he battled to push away before he could give further thought to. He fought for another topic of conversation. "Figured we could start lookin' at them accounts ya bin goin' on about."

She turned back to the road. "Yes, of course."

"Thought maybe…tonight?"

"But it's the Halloween party tonight."

He made a face, "Don't got much time fer stuff like that. Saloon's likely to be quiet seein' as most folks are gonna be there, but if ya wanna go, we can do it another night."

"No," she said hurriedly, "tonight's fine."

The rest of the journey was relatively silent with him only occasionally offering guidance and her accepting it without issue. Fortunately, they made it back to town without incident and by the time she pulled to a halt outside the saloon, her expression had cleared, and he could tell that she was proud of what she had achieved.

"Not bad," he complimented her, swinging himself down onto the ground, then moving round to her side of the wagon. "Didn't feel like I was takin' my life in my hands this time."

She laughed as he reached to help her down but as she dropped to the ground, her foot caught slightly on the edge of the step and she fell forwards with a gasp, down into his arms, her body pressing against his as he caught her and held her tightly. For a moment, they simply remained locked together and he could have sworn he could feel her heart racing against his chest.

Finally, she pulled back yet remained close to him. "I…don't know what happened there. My foot…"

"Don't gotta go around creatin' accidents just to throw yerself into my arms," he said, without really thinking, and her eyes flitted across his face. He felt his own gaze pulled down to her lips thinking, perhaps not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss them again…

"Eloise?"

The sound of Horace's voice caused them to pull hurriedly apart and, turning, he saw the other man standing behind them, his gaze flitting between them uncomfortably. He'd never really liked the other man, but in that moment, he felt a cold hatred that he couldn't explain.

"Horace…" she greeted him, coughing slightly.

"Got a letter for you," he said, holding it out to her.

"Thank you, Horace. It's from my mother," she said, opening it and scanning the contents. "She's invited us to San Francisco for Thanksgiving."

He paused for a moment. "Both of us?"

"Well, yes, she's hardly going to invite me and not my husband." She paused, her eyes racing over the words again before raising them to look at him. "Will you come with me?"

He paused, feeling his heart beat irrationally quickly. "Ya want me to?"

"Of course. I mean…if you want to, that is."

Part of him wanted to say no. What was the point after all? They would have to pretend all over again that they were truly married and this time in her parents' home, which would only be a hundred times more difficult than it had been when they had come to town. Besides, by the time it got to Thanksgiving they would only be a month away from Christmas and the time they had agreed to spend together would be fast approaching its conclusion.

"Sure," he heard himself say, despite it all. "I'll come with you."

XXXX

As she stood at the saloon doors, Eloise couldn't help but smile as she watched people making their way down towards the meadow, dressed in their Halloween costumes. There were witches and ghouls, devils and angels and all types of animals and other creatures. She could barely tell who was who, that being the point of course, but she recognised Michaela wearing a red sparkling mask, and the other woman waved and came over towards her.

"Aren't you coming?" Michaela asked, lifting the mask from her face.

"No, I changed my mind," she replied. "I need to help Hank with the accounts."

The excuse sounded somewhat hollow, but rather than appear disapproving, Michaela merely raised her eyebrows in a manner that Eloise would almost have said was suggestive, then re-fixed her mask. "Well, have a lovely evening," Michaela said, before turning and hurrying away.

Turning back inside the bar, she looked around at the few hardened customers dotted around the room. A good-natured poker game was going on in one corner, whilst Olivia was being very friendly to an older gentleman in another. Two other men were simply sitting and drinking together, bursts of laughter occasionally floating across the room.

All in all, it was a quiet night.

Hank suddenly appeared beside her, dropped a bundle of ragged looking papers onto a nearby table and invited her to sit down.

"What's this?" she asked, fingering the corner of one page.

"Let's just call it my accounts," he replied, pulling up a seat next to her.

"I thought you didn't keep any accounts."

"Never used to but, well, after ya told me I should, started tryin' to put this lot together. Not made that good a job of it, as ya can see. Lucy…" he gestured to one of the girls who was lounging in the corner. "Git us some drinks."

"You really need a ledger," she said, picking up various pages and looking at them one after the other. "Loren sells them in the store. I can pick one up tomorrow."

"What's a ledger?"

"It's like a book where you keep track of what comes in and what goes out. See here…" she pointed to one of the pages. "Here you've got a record of what whisky you bought last month and there should be corresponding papers showing how much you sold." She searched through the remaining papers before looking at him in time to see him shrug.

"Told ya I was just tryin', never said I made any kind of good job of it."

In that moment, she felt an inexplicable urge to reach out to him, to put her hand over his or touch his face or…

Two glasses of whisky suddenly appeared on the table in front of them, jerking her back into the moment and she looked up into Lucy's face. She was one of the younger girls, not yet hardened by the ravishes of her life choices and she looked at Eloise, then Hank, then back at Eloise again, a small smile playing around the corner of her mouth before she moved away again.

Over the course of the next hour or so, as Lucy plied them with drinks, they sorted through the pages together, trying to make sense of his attempts at book-keeping, and though much of it didn't tally and would need further work, she couldn't help but feel impressed, and somewhat touched, that he had made the effort at all, especially after initially taking her suggestion so ill-out.

She hadn't meant to drink too much but, after a while, felt her gaze beginning to take on a somewhat hazy quality and when she got to her feet, she swayed slightly, causing him to instantly rise with her, hands hovering close to her waist almost as though he expected her to fall. "Y'alright?"

"I think I've drunk too much whisky."

"Only had four or five glasses. Had that much before and it ain't made ya drunk." He lifted her half-drunk glass and sniffed it, before draining the contents. "This is pure."

"Pure?" she asked stupidly.

"Yeah, it ain't bin watered down. She's only gone and lifted the wrong goddamn bottle." He turned to look around the room. "Lucy!"

"No don't, it ain't her fault."

He turned back to look at her. "Ain't?"

"Isn't…I mean, isn't her fault," she corrected herself, trying to focus. "I'll just… go to bed and sleep it off. I'll be fine." Taking a few steps, she felt herself stumble and his arm slid around her waist before he propelled her at seemingly lightening speed through the bar and to her room. "I'm…sorry…" she said, as he opened the door and helped her inside.

"Goddamn whore."

"Don't hurt her." She moved over to the bed and sat down heavily, raising her eyes to meet his gaze, convinced that she saw an expression of hurt flash across his face. "It was probably just an accident. Now, if it had been Olivia…"

"Yeah," he conceded. "She'd have done it just fer the sport."

Reaching into her pocket, her fingers closed around the bottle of essential oils Michaela had given her, and she pulled it out to examine it, turning it over in her hands.

"I'll…uh…say goodnight then," he said, moving back towards the door.

"Thought you had magic hands," she laughed. The room spun somewhat around her, and she lay back on the bed, suddenly aware of her boots being removed and the buttons at the neck of her dress being loosened. "You don't need to go around getting me drunk just to put your hands on me." She laughed again as a fatigue washed over her, the likes of which she had never experienced before, and she fell into a drunken sleep as she heard the click of the door.