Good run of bad luck (semi-open- deu)

[Galatea]

((Walker. Future.))

He could see it in the distance, and he laughed outright. Home! This was home, to him. Beneath him, his mount moved at a leisurely trot. The Quarter Horse was mixed with something else along the line, but they were never quite sure what- the feathering along his legs hinted at some type of draft breed- and he was as steady an animal as he could ever hope to mount. He wasn’t the prettiest horse, that was for sure, but he had a willing heart and kind eye. The dun nickered, as if agreeing with his master that it was good to see home again. Her firmly patted the animals neck, a bit of dust coming off with the affection.

“Looks like you need a shower, huh, Jack?” At the sound of his name, one ear slipped back, listening to his master. The horse was quiet, intelligent. He preferred him to most of the people he met. “Almost home, boy. Almost home.” He nudged the horse into a gallop.

---

Slowing to a trot at the town limits, he rode quietly into familiar streets, taking notice of new businesses, and old ones that were closed. His lips curved up in amusement when he noticed that, under Tarquin’s shingle, Will had finally put his out again. T.Q. O’Brien and W.J. Holliday. It was a good first step- that meant Will was now on the path to recovery. The door was open, as usual, so he reined in his gelding and dismounted, quick-tying the horse to avoid any wandering- though the horse would probably have merely meandered back to his stall, tack and all. Even from outside, he could hear slightly raised voices- a woman and a man- and one was positively strident. He entered to see a large cat curled up in a patch of sunlight on a desk, eyes half-closed as if he had just been stirred from sleep. Those blue eyes fixed on Walker, and he murred lazily before exposing his belly and chest for a rub, shamelessly. The woman, who stood closer to the feline, obliged him, rubbing his chest, eliciting a purr from deep within the warm body.

She was tall, for a woman. Scarlet curls cascaded down her back, not in any particular order, or style- but that was just her way. She was dressed particularly fine this afternoon, in a green silk gown with quarter sleeves, fitted just right. She wasn’t wearing a choker- instead a fine gold chain with an emerald pendant swinging from it. That was new- obviously a gift from Doc- and it brought out her iris’ to perfection. For once, she was wearing a bustle, and looked every inch a lady. There was no hint, except for the loose hair, that she was anything less. Her eyes were fixed on a pair that nearly rivaled hers, except for the briefest hint of blue. The young man was also tall- a few inches taller than the woman- with the same rich locks, only his were shot through with gold, giving him natural highlights. Some people would, foolishly, call him a strawberry blonde. He wasn’t. He had an impeccable goatee, and had it not been for the fact that he looked so much like her, one might have thought they were walking into a lover’s quarrel. In his arms, a babe of about eight months was fussing.

“I told you, she’s just teethin’, honey.” The redhead was trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. Really, she was. It was just… so… funny! Her son had turned into an overprotective father!

“She’s not teething! I checked.” He snapped it back at her with a little glare. Did she think he was stupid, or something? He was a doctor, for pity’s sake!

“She’s fussin’ when she doesn’t have something to chew on.” The woman shook her head. “That’s a pretty good sign that she’s teethin’, Will.”

“Mama, she’s not teething. I checked.” He glared, the expression making him look so much like his father, she had to snag her lip to keep from laughing outright. Both of her children had many of their father’s good-and, arguably, some of the bad- qualities. The ‘Holliday glare’, as she called it, had been passed down to both of them, though Celeste rarely used it.

“Because I didn’t raise two squealin’ infants to adulthood,” she quirked up a brow.

“Will, are you sassin’ your Mama again?” At the voice, both gazes shot up to greet him. The woman reacted first, squealing and flinging her arms around his neck, kissing him on each cheek noisily. He caught her easily, laughing. “Hi, Gallie.”

“Welcome home,” she hugged him again. “Oh, Walker, it is so good to see you home again!” She drew back, caressing his cheek briefly. This day had just improved tremendously!

“Good to be home,” he laughed. “How’s Doc doin’?”

“Fine, fine.” She laughed. “He’s probably just wakin' up,” she laughed. “Came home at about four this mornin'. He was about seven-fifty up on the whole damn table when I left at two.” He must have done well, though, because he had spooned against her back and brought her breathlessly awake, mouth fused to hers, riding that natural high. He seemed to be feeling better, thanks in part to the cat who had just leapt off the table, heading towards the back room.

“And Celeste?”

“Drivin’ her daddy crazy.” She chuckled. “She’s starting to step out with boys.” A grin. “No one’s been shot so far.”

“And you, Will?” He turned his gaze towards the young man, who dipped his head with a grin. He couldn’t offer a hand, as he was still cradling his daughter to his chest.

“Fine.” At the look, he conjured up a little smile. “Better, anyway.”

“And how about you, Miss Annie?” The girl giggled, before extending her arms.

“Wa’ go up!” She squealed it happily, and he obliged, setting her on one massive forearm. “Unca Wa-er!”

“Wal-ker.” Tea corrected with a laugh.

“She’s alright.” He tapped her nose, eliciting another giggle. “God, they grow so fast.”

“Ah, ye made eet jus’ in tha nick ‘o time,” and Irish voice rang out, and he smiled as Tarquin approached, this time in human form. He always dressed smartly- today was no exception. He extended his hand, and Walker took it with his free one. “Sarah’ll be gla’ ye made eet home afore tha wedding.”

“She certainly will,” Tea agreed, plucking Annie from her brother’s arms. “In fact, I’m going to go let her know, and see if I can’t entice that man of mine for a little fun before we head out.” Her smile turned positively filthy.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t… on second thought, please do,” Walker teased, and she sailed out the door with the baby in her arms. He watched her cross the street, heading towards home with the baby, presumably for a nap.

“I s’pose I shoul’ go find me beloved,” Tarr turned to Will. “Ye will be al’rig’ alone?”

“I had my own practice, Uncle Tarr. I’ll be fine.” He shrugged. “Don’t let mama get too drunk, and make sure my father doesn’t overdo it.” He shooed them both out, closing the door, but leaving the light on outside. He and Tarquin took turns staying overnight- Will took more nights than his uncle, simply because he wasn’t planning a wedding, or with anyone. He often pushed himself to stay up for two days straight, collapsing in exhaustion, only to repeat the process all over again. He didn’t like to sleep, because sleep was when he would remember. And then Annie would cry, and he would snap awake to care for his infant daughter, bitterly mourning the loss of her mother. Allie had been something else, all right. She hadn’t replaced Cassie, but she had been close enough to take away some of the sting.

“Well, I’ll be goin’- see ye later, I hope.”

“Course, Tarr. I’ll stop by to see Sarah tonight.” The two men parted ways quietly, and Walker untied Jack, giving him a slap on the rear. “Go on, now. I’ll be there later to give ya a nice rubdown and take off your saddle.” The horse nickered and trudged off obediently. He lit a cigarette, inhaling before blowing out a stream of smoke. He was more of a social smoker, really- but he didn’t feel like coughing when he walked into the saloon he knew he’d be in for the better part of the night, if he wanted to visit his sister and her man at all. Not that he minded- it was never dull whenever Doc was around, and seeing as he was feeling a bit better, well- things promised to be entertaining. Since the two would probably chat a bit, he would have a perfect view of the gambler’s natural setting. He knew Tea, too, would probably find her way into the gunslinger’s lap, and she was always amusing when the pair decided to go for bust at a table.

“Uncle Walker?” A feminine voice called out- across the street, Celestine peered out from around a young man with dark hair, before bolting over and hugging him tightly. He let her, and she repeated her mother’s greeting, only a bit softer, more charmingly. “Welcome home!”

“Good to be home, honey.” He smiled, kissing her forehead lightly. “I think your young man is waitin’ on you.” She smiled charmingly.

“He can wait.” She chuckled, the expression so very Tea that he had to laugh.

“Go on, now. We can catch up later, honey.” He sent her off with a nudge, and she waved before continuing with her escort.

Women.

Who could ever figure them out, anyway?

He yelped, suddenly, as he realized he hadn’t crushed out his cigarette, and it burned his fingertips. With a scowl, he dropped it, crushing it under the toe of his boot. “Merde!” He snapped it, shaking his injured hand as if that would somehow help. It didn’t, and it made him look a fool.

Klutz.

[Unoma]

This place was different. The people were different. Everything moved in a different speed. Different stride. It was taking her some time to get use to it all. The smells, sounds and tastes were all interesting and even a bit exciting. She was use to the country hill sides. The rise and fall of grassy knolls as long as the eye can see. Tipped off in the distance with white peaked mountains to the west and dipping into the salty coasts to the east. It wasn't like Georgia or Alabama. Nothing like the hot, southern states the others were use to. Her country was filled with vines as long as cattle pastures. Red and white grapevines lined along every acre imaginable. It was wine country. It was France.

She sighed at the thought of her home. Crossing her arms to hug herself, she tried to push the thoughts from her mind. Unfortunate events lead her to this place. Events she really wished not to dwell on. It was a new beginning for her and that was how she liked it. Somewhere to start fresh and figure out what she was going to do with her life. None of it was what she was use to and maybe that was what she needed right now. Fresh air and fresh faces. And that was around every corner. It made it easier to see someone and they look past her like she isn't there. Not knowing who she was or anything of the sort. It eased her mind, as much as it could be eased anyways.

Belladonna continued walking down the street at leisure. Past the hurried steps of customers zooming in and out of the general store and down past the small family-owned inn that opened their arms to her without question. It wasn't like she was poor. She had enough to last her till she found some other means and actually could have left the inn some time ago. Though, she couldn't pull herself away from the place at the moment. The smiling faces and soothing words were helping her feel more at home in the strange place. At the moment, she wouldn't change that for any coin. Each day she would venture into the town, wondering the streets aimlessly. Learning more of the native language each day. Learning more of their customs and mannerisms. It was all a lot to take in, but she prided herself, silently of course, at how well she was picking it up. So, wasn't it a surprise when she heard her native language while passing the Saloon.

At first, the ebony haired woman didn't notice it was in her language. The word 'sh*t' seemed commonly used in all places, even more so here, so it took her a few moments to take it the word. Blue/green, almost gray, eyes peered to the man violently trying to shake his hand off. A brow raised curiously at him before taking a step forward. She wasn't mistaken of what language he used and once it settled in, it frighted her a bit. Was he from France, what if he was even from the same village!? The thoughts made her dizzy for a moment, before she growled at herself for overreacting. It probably was nothing of the sort. Even if he was from France, that didn't mean a thing. She was just being silly.

"Pardon, Monsieur..Est-ce que ca va?" her voice was soft and timid. Only a few steps above a whisper. Loud enough for him to hear, yet those passing by may not even notice the heavy-accented french voice. Large eyes peered at him carefully. Wondering if he really was okay or not.

[Kozmo]

He felt like an idiot. Across the street, Will had stepped out of the office, leaning casually against one of the pillars supporting the overhang. Even from here, he could see the amused expression on the younger man’s face, and the slight shake of the head. He was a bit more sedate than his mother, but he was so much like her in so many ways, while Celeste clearly took after the Holliday side of the family. She was the intelligent, soft-spoken one of the children- not that Will was an idiot, but he did have a habit of speaking before thinking. His mother was amused by it, though, and never corrected him. His posture was impeccable, but that was no surprise- Doc and Tea had both drilled posture into both their children from an early age, though their children never looked uncomfortable. Even leaning against the post in such a lackadaisical manner, Will came from good stock. He playfully tipped his hat to his uncle, before kicking up one leg in the classic smoker’s pose, though Will didn’t smoke. At all, really. A shake of Walker’s head- when a soft female voice spoke, so soft he thought he’d imagined it, at first. He turned, facing a petite little lady, with dark hair and eyes. It was the eyes that captured his attention first- they were remarkably similar to Will’s, only more gray than anything- and his first thought was rather… well… idiotic.

‘Huh, pretty.’

He leaned in a bit now, looking at them deeper. Ah, there were hints of blue, and green there, near the pupil. Very pretty, he decided. And the rest of the package was pretty, too. He’d always been a sucker for a pretty face, and so far, he was liking what he saw. He put on his most charming smile, dipping his head politely. He’d have swept her hand to his mouth, but he didn’t want to be too forward and scare her off. His family usually did that quite well, actually. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, she spoke French. Fluently. Perfectly. Well, he never did get a chance to speak French much, anymore.

“Je suis très bien, Mademoiselle. Juste une petite brûlure, est tout.” He studied her face, again. No, he was sure he hadn’t seen her before- he never forgot a face, and certainly not one so pretty. “Je suis désolé si je surpris que vous. Il n'était pas mon intention. Mon nom est Walker, ce qui est le vôtre ?”

Then he realized that they were garnering all kinds of odd looks from those around them, speaking a foreign language in the middle of town, and he sighed. “Je m'excuse. Aussi parlez-vous anglais, peut-être ?”

((HAHA! I love that no one will be able to translate that without a generator. I'm proud of myself, now!

Translations: "I am alright, Miss. Just a small burn, is all." "I'm sorry if I surprised you. It was not my intention. My name is Walker, what is yours?" ""I'm sorry. Do you speak English, perhaps?" ))

[Unoma]

[ I understood some of the words. xD The others I had to look up.]

The man before her was handsome, she had to note. As her eyes scanned over him quickly. So quick, he probably didn't even notice. There seemed to be an awkward silence between them. And he was staring at something. Something on her face! At first she started to panic in her mind. Did something happen and she got disfigured? Or was there mud splashed across her cheek. She withheld the urge to rub at her face as he stared at her. She gave a soft hum as the word pretty escaped his lips. Her mind searching frantically for the meaning. Trying to remember scenarios of when that word was used. Lily, the woman who helps run the inn, had said it many times describing flowers, if she recalled right. She tiled her head at him as he began to lean closer. A confused and almost surprised look came across her face. Starting to take a step back out of hers, she shook it off and kept her composure. The strangeness escaped her mind quickly as he began to speak. In french! This was a surprising day.

Belladonna looked down at his hand as he spoke. Just a small burn? He didn't say what he burned it on, but he did apologize for the possibility for startling her. That made a smile fall upon her lips as he looked up at him. The 5'4ft woman took note of his name being Walker. Liking the way it rolled of her tongue. It was western. It was cowboy. And of course every lady loves a cowboy. Even more an attractive one. She blushed softly at her own thoughts. Wondering where that came from all the sudden. The thoughts slide away from her mind as he spoke again. She didn't notice the odd looks before, yet at his sigh and apology, her eyes met the wary looks of people around them. Another blush painted her face as she looked at the ground. She figured him asking if she spoke English was because of those looks. And that was fine with her. She needed to brush up on it more anyways.

" Oui. I am learning." her accent was heavy. The pronunciation was broken and drawn out. Like she was over pronouncing the words a bit.

Her eyes fell back onto his hand. " My name is Belladonna. But everyone just calls me Belle." She continued to look down at his hand. Still curious of how he injured it. "Comment avez-vous blessé votre main ?" she asked him. Unable to break away from her native tongue.

This was liking this though. Interaction between another who spoke her native language. She was unsure if he was from there. His name didn't make it seem like he was. He look around her age, perhaps only a year or so older. Though she looked, in the face anyways, to be in her young twenties. That wasn't true, but she enjoyed the youth appearance. It helped her in many situations. She didn't seem to need to worry about that at the moment. This man acted interested enough in her. Perhaps it was the same reason as her. Two people joined the the sounds of one language. It was kind of lovely to think about.

[Galatea]

Too bad that the pretty little lady didn’t realize he was not, in fact, a cowboy- rather an ex law dog, which led to some rather interesting personality clashes in his small family from time to time. While Doc wasn’t the type to start trouble, and Tea usually kept herself in check, there were times that the volatile nature of the pair caused a disagreement (or, occasionally, even a fight), and it was then that there would be an inevitable conflict in personality. The gambler usually got on well-enough with Walker, so long as he kept his nose out of his business, but there was usually an undercurrent of suspicion between the two- mostly on Walker’s side. It wasn’t that he didn’t like, or even trust Doc- he trusted him with his sister- but there was something about the gunman that just didn’t totally sit right with the ex-lawman. But Galatea clearly adored the man, and Walker put her happiness above his own, always.
 
But, he mused; he had never quite trusted the man with his sister- even as a child he had been overprotective and hesitant to leave her with him. It may have been due to his quick bond with his sister, or the fact that she had sought out the man after meeting him, instead encouraging her brother go be independent- but it was there. He had, for the most part, gotten over this when Celestine was born, though. By that time, the sharp pistoleer had a family with her, forming a bond with Will, and being welcomed back into Galatea’s bed with the promise that, no matter how badly his health declined, he would at least give her a chance to say goodbye before cutting all ties again. Where he trusted Tarquin completely, despite the fact that the man had come to them as a cat, not once but twice. Sarah he trusted nearly as much. And Will? Will was as steady a man as he could ever hope to meet. Despite losing his wife in childbirth, he had dug himself out of
despair. He’d put lost weight back on, and looked like he was, overall, feeling better. He looked like he needed another pair of arms to watch Annie, though.
 
Too bad Essie was probably deceased; because that woman would have just the right touch to bring Will back to himself.
 
But now wasn’t the time to think on that, not when he had a pretty lady in front of him, looking at him through those long lashes. God, women were a mystery. There was something about them that could just hook a man in- not the same one for every woman, but this was the type that Walker usually tried to court (before his insane family scared them off). Petite, dark-haired with a womanly figure. And, she was cute when she blushed, too! She spoke again, this time in English, and he smiled. He drew down on the drawl he’d been raised with, knowing full-well how ladies loved the southern boy drawl, and kept his smile on his face.
 
“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he spoke lazily, his voice bringing with it images of hot summer nights with the pine trees singin’ the song of the south. Apparently Galatea was not the only one who could use an accent charmingly, or perhaps it was a family thing. “Belle.” He nearly purred the name, unintentionally. It was something he had learned from his sisters’ days at the Silver Star. This time he did lift her hand to his mouth for a kiss, very lightly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
 
“Don’t let him charm you too much, ma’am,” Will called from across the street with a laugh detectable in his tone. He was still kicked out against the post, eyes trained on the tracks leading through town, as though waiting for something.
 
“You’ll have to excuse my nephew.” Walker shot the young man a scathing glare, which did little to faze him. In fact, he looked more amused than anything. His father’s stare was often more harsh, even when he wasn’t annoyed with his son for god knew what (which was rare. Will loved getting his father’s ire up). The woman went back to French, quietly, and he smiled back before murmuring a response, this time in her native language. “Sur une cigarette. Mais, vraiment, je suis très bien."  He paused, then offered her an arm. "Est-ce que vous allait occuper pour une promenade ?"
   
 
 
((Translation : On a cigarette. But, really, I'm alright. ; would you care for a walk ?))  

[Unoma]

[ Kind of crappy. My apologies dear.]


She could see the country landscape in his words. She could see him, laid upon a broken log turned into a seat, with a fishing pole lazily relaxing in an old pond. The sun setting into splashes of orange red and the wind giving enough breeze just to keep what was left of the days heat from ruining the evening. She saw images like these in pictures and always wondered what the people who lived in those regions would be like. Walker seemed to fit the picture nicely, at least closer than any other she had met before. It was attractive, seductive even. Every drip of charm in his words did the effect they searched. She was dazzled. Intrigued.

It wasn't surprising that she started to shy away when he kissed her hand. She squirmed mentally, but kept herself from actually stepping away. Mannerisms as those were not something she was unfamiliar with. Yet, it still wasn't common enough to not make her feel a bit uneasy. He didn't seem like a bad man though. That relaxed her a good bit. Of course, you could never tell a book by it's cover, but how could she believe a man who spoke her native language and held the rugged western appearance, would be bad? Something different, yet familiar. It seemed almost a blessing. At least a new friend she could learn from and keep her roots intact.

As a voice reached her ears, she did begin to blush. Eyes darting swiftly over to the voice that hollered at them from a short distance away. It felt awkward to be watched. Belle lowered her head to stare at the ground. Unsure what to say, if anything, to the man finding it amusing. So, it was a huge relief with Walker started to speak again. Commenting on how it was a cigarette that burned his hand. Well, that explain will he was trying to shake it off. A soft laugh escaped from her lips as she peered up at him. Between him and his nephew, this day was turning out to be amusing.

" Oui, monsieur. A walk sounds lovely." She kept her smile as she took his arm. Waiting for him to guide the way.

" You are not from France, no?" She questioned him boldly. Now that she was arm and arm with this man, it wasn't taking her long to start to get comfortable. Conversation with anyone right now was an advantage she didn't wish to pass up.

For all she knew, this was the fresh start she was looking for.

[Galatea]

((Edited the first post, Deu, since Kaze is going to jump in here once I bring Essie in- and it makes more sense that Doc and Tea would be home, haha. Also, since she‘s been in town and Walker just got back, I am assuming she would have seen Doc and Tea at least once.))

He caught her hesitance when he kissed her knuckles, and so, he did not press her, nor linger there. Not many women were not charmed by that move- hell, his sister loved when Doc gave her an unexpected little brush of his lips there- and he was intrigued. What kind of things would bring a pretty little woman all the way from France to this town? Like Galatea, he decided, this woman needed a fresh start. Well, that was all right- he wouldn’t grudge her that. It was then that Will broke the tension, and he was mentally grateful. The young man was always amazingly empathetic- it was one of the reasons he was such a good doctor- but he didn’t coddle. The only thing he could be accused of coddling was little Anne Leigh Holliday, who was presumably napping. Galatea always checked on her.. Semi-daughter. She did not tolerate being called a grandmother. For now, though, all was quiet. It was approaching time for him to clean up and go to the rehearsal dinner for Sarah and Tarquin, but he saw no hurry right now. Hell, he would probably only change his shirt and jacket, and maybe take time to put on a tie.

No doubt, though, Doc and Galatea would be a handsome couple tonight. Not the usual kind of flash they had, either. No, this was a formal affair, and called for them to look their best. That meant Galatea would have her hair in a style, too- something she particularly hated- and a bustle. And he was certain Tarquin and Sarah would look just as sharp, just as composed. Tarr, though, would more than likely match something in his attire to whatever his fiancée was wearing that night, while Doc usually didn’t take the time to do so- and Galatea didn’t care. Their entrance was never missed, and she just wanted to be by the gambler’s side. Will was the only one missing out on the party- the boy not being quite as social as he had been before Allie had died. Even Celestine was going- with her young man- and she looked every inch a lady tonight. But the woman he was standing near did take his arm, and he smiled. It had been so long since he had a young woman on his arm, and his back instinctively straightened just that extra bit, his smile that extra bit charming. This was instinct that had been bred into him, and his sister, since birth.

He took care not to pull her with him, considering she was a tiny little thing. It wasn’t like strolling with his sister, or Sarah. Their strides were easily matched, especially Gallie’s due to her height. He wasn’t in a hurry, though, and that made all the difference. Another difference was the casual way she walked- she didn’t have the same graceful strides Sarah had, or the swaying hips of his sister. She spoke, again, and he found himself drawn to that fetching accent again. Some accents were more pleasing, and he had always been a sucker for French.

“No, ma’am.” He drawled softly, guiding her around a puddle easily. When he was actually paying attention, he was much less clumsy. “Ah was born an’ raised in Alabama.” Which was true. He had been, even if he had become something of a Westerner after leaving home at the age of sixteen. “Me an’ my sister, Gallie.” He smiled, grateful that afore-mentioned sister was not around to correct his grammar. “I’m sure you’ve seen her- tall, redhead, swayin’ hips? Usually wrapped around a tall blonde?” He waited for confirmation before smiling. “That’s my sister.” He lead her across the street then, carefully.

“So, what part of France are you from?”

[Unoma]

Belle was grateful for the man that was at her side. Her shorter legs made it a bit harder to keep up with the long strides of men. But he was careful. . Taking his time with her, almost letting her set the pace of their walk. Majority of men she had accompanied either would tug her along, making her almost jog to keep up or just walk ahead of her, while she silently followed like an obedient dog. She always hated it, but never dared to say a word. Even in her tallest heels she only reached 5'6ft so it was nice to have someone who actually took her smaller form into consideration. She didn't walk with the confidence of other, bolder, women. ( Cough cough). She never had an outward personality, and that showed in everything. The casual, plain walk. The lack of high posture. She wasn't aware it gave her away completely, most people probably don't. She blended with the crowd. Keeping herself in the back of the room, without even fully knowing it.

As he began to answer her question, she pulled herself a bit closer to him. Making sure she could hear and understand every word he said. It was a bit harder to understand with the southern twang. But she tried, even if silence would linger between them for a moments. It was only so she could try to put words to images in her head. She listened carefully as he spoke about being born in Alabama. And about his sister. This she had to think about for a second, though it didn't take her long to put two and two together.

" Oh! I have seen her before. She seems, um." She paused for a moment. Digging in her brain for the right word. Finally she turned and asked him." How do one say intrepide?"

She didn't know the English word she was looking for. But she remembered the red-head. Bold and confident. Belle saw her in the saloon before. It was hard not to notice her sprawled in that mans lap. He stood out just as much as she did, but in a different, more subtle way. They seemed very different from each other, yet the care or feelings they had between each other were not unseen.

When he asked her of what part of France she was from. Her thoughts fell back to her home town and her posture slouched slightly. It wasn't pleasant to think of the events before and her hometown had nothing but those memories. Yet, her facial expressions remained unchanged and her tone as well.

" A small village in Aquitaine. No where very important." She chuckled lightly as she began her next sentence." Full of men who have turned grapes into coin."

That was true. The village was nothing but manors with acres and acres of grapevines. She grew up with wine being the currency, giving her a useless talent of being able to recognize the difference between bad and high quality wine. It was nothing to be proud of and she cared little for her own history. Instead, she was more curious of him and his family.

"If I may, what brings you here?" She asked, hoping she wasn't crossing any lines." If you are from, Alabama, you said?"

She was enjoying their walk, but wondered if she interrupted him from going somewhere. Was he trying to get things done and she had become a roadblock? Or was he just strolling the town as she was? The questions started to gnaw at her mind.

" Oh! I apologize." Her already large eyes widened as she looked up at him. " Did I interrupt you? Do you need to return?" Her English was chopping and heavily accented. If he wasn't use to French, he might have had a slight problem understanding her.

[Intrepide translates into Bold. And yes I know it's suppose to be Fine Wine. But I wanted to say high quality instead lol.]

[Galatea]

((So. FINALLY put a face to Walker. Taylor Kitsch, with black hair and green eyes. PERFECT.))

When she cuddled closer to his side, he couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. His heart was definitely thumpin’ now, with her so close he could catch a whiff of her perfume. She was certainly a pretty little thing, with those huge eyes, and she looked so lost. Walker Shaw was in trouble, now. She’d already hooked him with her first question, and now that he was realizing how innocent she looked, that trouble tripled. One thing that most people did not know about Walker, he just couldn’t keep himself out of trouble with the ladies. He loved them- their smiles, the way they would bat their eyes, those outrageously long lashes which would flutter closed when he leaned in for a kiss- and they loved him. She looked up at him, and he chuckled when she answered him.

“That describes my sister perfectly,” he shook his head. Yes, his sister was indeed bold, brazen, and overconfident. It wasn’t arrogance on her part, though- it was just the way she was, naturally. And, despite first impressions, Galatea had a heart of gold under that tough exterior- she could be sweet, even loving. Outsiders would not have seen this side of her, though, and he didn’t grudge the girl this. If she stuck around, he knew, she would eventually see that side of his sister. But it took time to bond with her- she did not like forming ties of any kind right off the bat- and it would not happen overnight. “She’s always been on the bold side,” another smile, as he gave her the English word. That had worked in her favor, though- she had managed to worm her way into Doc Holliday’s heart not once, but twice- a feat that was next to impossible.

He listened as she spoke of her home, sensing the hesitance there. She clearly was unnerved by his asking about her past- and he mentally cringed. A gentleman should never, ever, question a lady. It was improper, and… oh, hell. He’d been removed from proper society for so long, he could not recall all the rules he had once strictly adhered to. So, her past… not a good topic of conversation. At least he knew that, now. When she turned the tables on him, he laughed outright, the sound not patronizing, but light and airy.

“Well, I followed in my sister’s footsteps,” he murmured with a pleased smile. “She went West when she was seventeen. I followed a few years later when I hit sixteen.” A shrug. “Became a Peace Officer… did that for a few years before givin’ up my badge and settlin’ back to just enjoy life for a change.” He glanced at her face again, when she suddenly seemed to go into a minor panic. He patted her hand reassuringly where it rested on his elbow. “No. I do have a prior engagement tonight, but that is not for a few hours yet.” He wasn’t needed at the church, while his sister and Doc, along with the happy couple, would be required. He grinned at that idea- nothing ever phased Doc, but his sister would most likely be afraid the church would burn down. He tilted his head fetchingly. “Say… are ya doin’ anything tonight?” If not, he would invite her along with him. Galatea was always saying he needed to get out more, and see people- this would be a chance to see if she could hold her own with his family, too.

[Unoma]

She listened carefully to him. Taking in the word bold with extra care. Pronouncing the word in her mind a few times, trying to get it right. Belle would say his sister was bold. But there was never any interaction between the two and she wouldn't be surprise if the woman never knew she existed. That was how she liked to keep it. Even in the saloon she sat in the darkest corner. Over shadowed by the crowds of arrogant men and a the mixture of girlfriends and call-girls giggling at every drunken antic. It was all quite interesting actually. A scene she had never witnessed back in her home lands. There were saloons, but she was not allowed to venture to such places. Instead they had things, Americans, would claim as country clubs. Men blabbering about things no one really cared for and the woman drank wine or tea, gossiping about things no one cared about either. It was boring to say the least. Belle didn't completely mind it though. It was something one got use to quickly. More so if one didn't have the confidence and esteem to stand up for oneself. She didn't. So, she would sit there. Never really joining in with the others. She always wondered if that might have been a large part of her shy, timidness.

That was seeming to change though. A part of her life that she didn't ever have to go back to. And now, meeting Walker, gave her even more hope of having no need to return to that dreadful lifestyle. She was a strong woman. Determined in her own way. Always wanting to stand up for herself and the things she believed in, but always held herself back.Someone was there to tell her no, someone was there to silence her. It seemed inevitable for every man to act the same way. To treat their woman as items. Belle had always been attractive. In France, she was the one who caught the eyes of men. Much like Tea. But unlike her, Belle didn't go forth into the attention and affection. Instead she drew herself back. Pulling away from charms and seductions of men. She would remain friendly, but wished not to have another person try to control her life.
This seemed different though. This seemed real.

As he began to speak of following his sister, it didn't take long to see the deep connection they seemed to have. That made her curious of his history and ties with his family. She didn't have any blood relatives alive, as far as she knew. The closet thing to her family was Michele and her children Aimee and Victor. But that was a story for another day. For right now, she didn't intend to speak about them and if it is needed, explain just the lack of blood relatives. Right now though, it wasn't an issue. She didn't, yet, wish to question anymore about his family till, if, she got to meet them. But, she did find it quite intriguing to hear it was a Peace Officer. She had never experienced a crime first hand. It was exciting and slightly attractive to think of the dangerous situations he might have been in.

The questions that flooded her mind were suddenly put on halt. Was he inviting her out tonight? A blush crept across her face as she thought about it for a moment. She was nervous, no doubt about it. And if she was the same person she had been back home, well she would have politely declined. But she also wouldn't be strolling arm and arm with a man she didn't even know, if she was still in that confined state of mind. Yet, she was linked close to Walker and she was highly enjoying his company. Her mind was quickly made up at that point.

"Plans? Du tout." She said while peering at him curious. Was he inviting her to his later activities? That made a soft smile brush across her face. Her heart thumped with excitement. She had been in this town for months and had little social interactions. This was not only a getaway from her thoughts at the moment, but it was also a way for her to, hopefully, find a way to learn more about the culture and finally find a way to fit in a bit more. And then she became a little bold.

" Are you inviting moi to your engagement, Monsieur Walker?" The expression on her face was innocent, her tone even more. She was asking him in hopes of his question to be accurate with her thoughts. Yet, she tried to keep the excitement and the want to go with him to a minimum. She didn't want to seem overeager, her timidness kept that back.


[ Translations: Du tout= Not at all. Moi=me, Monsieur=Mr]

[Galatea]

((Bouncing right along. Tea amuses me around babies. Essie is FANTASTIC. I almost put Will into this, too, but I figured it was long enough, and I want her to see Celeste first, since she looks more like Tea.))
 
Walker laughed softly when Belle looked up. Her eyes gave her away- windows to her soul. She was a fetching little creature, that was for certain. He was enjoying her company, and the way her tiny little frame sheltered against his larger one. All his protective instincts were to the fore around her- she was on his inside, leaving his gun hand free, should trouble arise (which was rare- Doc’s reputation served to generally keep people in line- but he was always alert anyway). At her question, he laughed again.
 
“Oui, cherie.” He smiled. Apparently the men in his family had different pet names for their women. Doc rarely called Galatea by name, though darlin’ seemed to do nicely for them. Tarquin’s term of choice was beloved, unless he was speaking in Gaelic- then he used the same word, in a different language. Walker had usually been the type to call his women ‘honey’ or occasionally ‘dear’, but somehow he could not bring himself to call this little lady either. Cherie seemed to fit, though. “That is, if you’d like to go with me?”
---
 
She HATED confining her hair.
 
The scarlet tresses were long and thick, requiring time and effort to pin into a proper updo, and she stabbed pins into place with a glare. However, when all was said and done, she had to smile at her efforts. She left a few tendrils loose, curled perfectly, to flirt about her face, but the overall look was elegant, if she did say so herself. She had changed into a dove gray gown, designed for evening wear, but more modest than what she would usually wear. This was, after all, the eve before her dearest friend was married. And that thought made her smile just a hint brighter. She loved Sarah as dearly as she would a sister, and seeing her happiness was enough to make the redhead smile. Sarah would get the fairytale, she knew. Tarquin was handsome and charming- worshipped the ground she walked on, and would walk the world over to pluck a blade of grass she wanted.
 
A cry broke her thoughts, and she sighed mentally.
 
Annie had been difficult to put down for a nap, obviously teething and uncomfortable, and this was not a cry for anything other than attention, but it still bothered her. With a shake of her head, she headed down the hall to the spare room they had set up as a nursery, where her… granddaughter… waited. No, semi-daughter. Not granddaughter, absolutely not! The baby instantly lifted her arms, lashes gummy with tears, and Tea’s heart melted just a little bit. She reminded her of Will as an infant- though Will had been a happy baby, always giggling, never fussing- just staring up with those mischievous eyes. She lifted the child with ease, kissing the downy head lightly. She had loved being a mother to her two children, and the baby brought this sweeter part of Galatea to the front.
 
“What’s wrong, honey?” The baby sniffled, looking up with those gold eyes that looked so much like Allison’s- and blinked. “You just need somethin’ to chew on, don’t ya?” Her suspicion was confirmed when the baby gnawed on her knuckle, happily. Fortunately, she knew that the baby was, in fact, teething and had handily made certain to tie off a clean dishcloth and had put it in the ice box. Will may not have realized his daughter was teething yet, but his mother did, and she was prepared. She headed down the hall gracefully, despite the train which trailed behind her, courtesy of the bustle she currently hated. She despised them, and that she was forced the discomfort of wearing one and confining her hair made for an irritable redhead. She did, though, pause in the doorway of the room she shared with her gunslinger to send him a smile. “I’m goin’ to take Miss Annie down and get her somethin’ to chew on before she draws blood,”
she drawled lazily. “We need to head out soon, though.” Not that he was not well-aware of this fact- she was just a tad bit frazzled by the child gleefully chewing on her finger.
 
She made it downstairs without incident, and her finger was replaced by a cool washcloth- something the baby seemed particularly to enjoy. The summer sun was starting to set, bringing a wave of relief. It was so dry out here- but she could not ever imagine not being where she was today. The door opened, then, bringing a harsh heat with it, before her brother shut the door. He looked… messy. His long hair was disheveled, he had a days’ growth shadowing his cheeks, and his shirt was dusty. She rolled her eyes, for form.
 
“Don’t let Doc see you like that,” she warned in jest. Walker’s eyes were twinkling, though- not with mischief, either. She could see traces of a smile, too. “Alright, what’s got you so happy?”
 
“I,” he said with a grin, “have an escort tonight.”
 
“Not dressed like that you don’t,” his sister teased.
 
“I do.” His grin widened. “Prettiest little thing you’ll ever see.” He sighed.
 
“What’s her name?” Tea asked with interest now, jiggling Annie gently on her hip. The baby was quiet now, the pain momentarily quelled. The chamomile that she had added to the water should help, too- hopefully the baby would sleep.
 
“Belle.” He smiled. “She’s French.”
 
“French, huh?” She quirked a brow in interest. “Does she speak it?”
 
“Fleuntly,” he grinned. “I haven’t spoken French in.. god… since we were kids with Mama.”
 
“Which explains why you don’t get any,” she teased gently. “Ladies love a man who can seduce them in a different language.” She rubbed noses with the baby, then. “Isn’t that right, Annie? Say yes!” She cooed it.
 
“Yes!” The baby giggled, repeating the word even if she had no clue what Galatea was saying.
 
“That’s my girl,” she purred, kissing the baby on the head again. “Tell Uncle Walker how silly he is for not using French more often.”
 
“I’ve never heard you speakin’ it either,” Walker retorted.
 
“Honey… what I usually say to my man in French cannot be repeated in polite company,” she laughed. Unlike her brother, Doc did not speak French, rather Latin- which was the root of the language, so he usually understood perfectly- and if he didn’t, the look in her eyes was usually enough to get the meaning across.
 
“Everything is an innuendo with you,” Walker shook his head.
 
“Straight-laced,” she stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “Now go get changed. And shave.” She ordered. “You look scruffy.”
 
“Gallie, I am scruffy.” But he sighed. She would pester and pester him- and he should shave anyway, for Belle. He pecked his niece on the head as she yawned, cuddling closer to the warm bosom of her grandmother.
 
“Yes, that’s a girl…” she sing-songed as the baby settled down, eyes closing quietly.
 
“I don’t remember Celeste being so fussy.” Walker murmured.
 
“Celestine didn’t have colic, either.” She murmured softly.
 
“No, but she was tiny.”
 
“Very delicate,” she agreed. Celeste had been so small, so fragile- unlike boisterous Annie. No, this one had the Sullivan temperament, make no mistake. The baby napped comfortably on her, and she sighed, shifting just enough to soothe the infant. “Now, you should get upstairs and gussy up for that young lady. I assume we get to meet her?”
 
“I invited her to dinner,” he smiled.
 
“’Bout time you had a lady on your arm, Walker.” She smiled then. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave. At least for a little while,” she laughed.
 
“Sinner’s honor, huh?”
 
“Oh, Walker… I’m serious. I won’t scare your young lady off.” She laughed. No, her man’s reputation would probably do that for them.
 
---
 
She stepped off the train and into the heat in her usual no-nonsense fashion. The town was not so very large, and it was not flattering, nor beautiful. But it was a sight all the same, standing tall against the hot sun. She glanced up at the clock, scowling slightly. The train was a half-hour late. She hated delays of any sort, and this one was particularly distressing. She was to have met her soon-to-be employer here- but no one remained. Truthfully, the name of the employer was what had drawn her to that particular request- the name Holliday was not common, but it wasn’t so rare that this may have not been related to the family she had so adored in Georgia. Still… she had been very fond of the Holliday family- especially young Miss Sarah, who was as fine and proper a lady as Essie had ever met. She was more fine than her precious… and now-deceased… Gwen.
 
She had become attached to Sarah after Gwen went West to look for young John Henry- and Essie hoped that the two had at least found each other in Heaven- there was  no way either was still alive. When Sarah had left, too, she had just about broken. Master Will was gone, by then, and there was nothing tying her to the Sullivan family any longer. Theron Sullivan had disowned both of his children, first his daughter and then his son, and the man had died bitter and alone. Or, so she heard. She had left after Will, going to Georgia to be with Miss Sarah, until the young woman, too, had left, following a mysterious letter.
 
A flash of orange caught her attention, abruptly. Her caramel-colored eyes followed it to a handsome man, with a very pretty blonde woman on his arm. They were a perfect match, in color and elegance. The man was well-to-do, obviously, and he clearly cared quite a bit about the woman who stood by his side. Even from here, she caught the subtle sparkle of the ring on the woman’s finger. Abruptly, the man chuckled, head thrown back, and she caught the profile and stopped dead in her tracks as she realized why the blonde woman looked so familiar.
 
Sarah…?
 
She was sure her jaw must have dropped… and that she was creating quite a spectacle of herself, but she didn’t care. She felt eyes on her from behind- curious ones, at that- but she didn’t register them. She instead stormed towards the couple, hands on her hips.
 
“Miss Sarah Holliday, where on earth have you been, girl?” She didn’t quite holler it, but it was loud enough to capture attention. The man at the woman’s side blinked, lips curving up in amusement. He was handsome, Essie realized. But why was he smiling like the cat that got the cream? “Didn’t you know I would worry for you?” She blinked, then, as though blinking back tears. The man released Sarah, stepping back just a bit, eyes fixing on Essie’s in an almost feline manner. That gaze looked so startlingly familiar- but why? She put a hand to her forehead, disbelief in her features. Then, abruptly, she forgot her place and flung her arms around Sarah, holding to her tightly as if that made everything more real. “Miss Sarah…” she held her tight. “You’re real. I’m not imagining it.”
 
“Nay, not unless we all are.” Tarquin laughed, then, eyes sparkling like mad.
 
“And you are?” She pushed back.
 
“Ah. Ye do know me…” he smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tho’, last time ye saw me, I ‘ad four paws an’ a tail.” He bowed, then, with that feline grace he had. “Tarquin O’Brien.”

[Unoma]

[Boo. Not happy with it. But I posted.]


They had stopped near the Inn. The glow of excitement glittered in her eyes as they discussed the details about the dinner tonight. He was picking her up at the Inn, like a real gentlemen. With a smile, she pulled herself away from him before he could try to kiss her hand or do something else of the sort, and scurried across the street towards the inn. She was going out tonight. Meeting new people and actually having a social group interaction. Belle couldn't remember the last time she had been to a party or function.

--

"Lilly!"Belle called in excitement. She was making her way up the stairs towards her room, when she saw the older woman sweeping at the top of the steps. She gripped the railing beside the stairs and almost jogged the rest of the way up.

"Lil. I had most exciting walk!" she cried, taking the blonde woman's hands in hers. " I met nice man named Walker."

The older woman known as Lily looked at the french girl before her in a confusion. A soft laugh came from her as her hands were squeezed. It was sometimes hard to understand Belle when she talked fast. The heavy accent made it difficult, but she had figured out after a lot spending time with the girl.

" What is it dear? You'll have to slow down a bit. You met a man?" she paused for a moment, before leading Belle towards her room. " What was his name again.?"

"Walker." Belle smiled, entering her room with Lily on her heels.

"Walker. What was his last name dear?" Lily was curious. She wondered if she knew the man or not. Or at least anyone he may know.

"Hm. I do not know if he told me."Belle pondered slightly. Did he tell her his last name? She didn't think he did. " I can find out tonight. He asked me to dinner." she grinned. Quickly moving to the closet, wondering if she even brought anything worth wearing.

"Oh! That is exciting dear. We must of course get you ready!" Lilly proclaimed, moving over to Belle like a mother. Practically pushing her out of the way to yank dresses out of the closet and push them against Belle with such force she thought Lil was going to knock her over!
After a nice pile had form on the bed, they finally managed to put a dress on her that flattered her dark hair and blue/green eyes. It was dark in color. A grey, black color. Steel black she would have called it. Charcoal with a bit of silver. It was fitted for evening wear, not very revealing yet was giving to her figure.

Lily then began to work on her hair. Pulling and combing till it was pinned to the back of her head. The bob was positioned to the left, partially on the side of her head. Lil pulled chunks of hair down and curled them with large airy spirals. It gave her a sophisticated, almost royal look. Yet with her shy, slouchy demeanor. She does not stand out in a crowd and never out shines a soul.

With finishing touches Belle moved to her dresser. Pulling out a smokey, beaded necklace. She snapped it around her neck and let it hang down against her chest. She smiled slightly as she rubbed her fingers against the large beads and turned to Lilly.

" Well, what do you think?" she asked with caution.

" Honey, you are beautiful!" Lilly exclaimed as she rushed to give her friend a hug. Belle quickly began to shy up, muttering how that was unneeded and she didn't have to be so kind. Lil could only chuckle at her and squeeze her harder.

"Don't fret. If he doesn't love this, he must be stupid!" With that Lilly pulled away from her and looked at the large clock against the wall.

"It shouldn't be long now. Why down you go downstairs to the kitchen and get something to drink while you wait. I'm sure Davis can be good for something every once in a while." She rolled her eyes as she mentioned her husbands name. It was followed by a good-hearted laugh to show she didn't really mean it and lead Belle to the stairs. The two headed downstairs to wait for her date. Belle knew that Walker would be near soon and Lilly would be around the corner somewhere to catch a look at the man. She laughed to herself as she squeezed the woman's hand that was leading her into the kitchen. Today was a good day. Hopefully tonight would be better.

[Galatea]

((Yes, yes, yes! I love nervous Walker!))



He glanced at himself in the mirror again, making certain he had not missed any spots or nicked himself shaving. He hadn’t, thankfully, and he blinked at his reflection. He was the only man in this little family that even considered going totally clean shaven- it took years from his appearance. His hair, though, was the problem- it was usually unruly and did not like being tamed, but he had managed to tie it back, and so far it seemed to be cooperating with him. His shirt was currently unbuttoned at the cuffs and collar, the tie he was despising draped around his neck. He had actually changed into a clean pair of trousers, not as formal as they could be, but not the rough denim he normally favored. With a sigh, he spoke to himself- another habit. “Well, Walker, this is about as good as it’s gonna get.” He nodded, as if satisfied, before rolling his sleeves down, buttoning the cuffs. He abhorred cufflinks, so the buttons would have to do. Next came the collar, which was not nearly as irritating- until he needed to adjust his tie.



“Figured you’d need help with that,” his sister’s voice rang out, softly. Annie was no longer in her arms- either back in her crib or dozing on Doc- but the former was more likely. Galatea looked simply stunning- she had used kohl and rouge sparingly, and overall reminded him very much of parties when they had been very young. She shook her head with a little laugh, crossing the floor to help him with the offending tie, competently tying it and adjusting it so it sat perfectly. “There. Perfect.”



“Thanks, Gallie.” He impulsively smacked his lips to her cheek, as he would have as a young child. Warily, she looked up at him. “What?”



“Just makin’ sure you’re not gonna throw a frog at my head,” she teased with a laugh. Ever since that story had been told, she loved to tease him just as she had when they were both still Sullivans- and he had noticed her slipping in and out of Galatea mode, especially where her man was concerned. She let him have the softer side of her personality far more than she had before- though she still raised just as much hell, that was for sure!



“Yeah, well…” He shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to find something else suitable, then.”



“Ya throw *anythin’* at my head tonight, I’ll tell that young lady of yours every deep, dark secret I know about ya.” She smirked triumphantly. “Anyway, we’re just about ready to head on out- I assume ya’ll will be meetin’ us there?”



“Yeah. I’m goin’ to fetch her.” He nodded confirmation.



“Good.” She smiled. “I’m goin’ to fetch Annie, and then…” she trailed off as she realized he was staring at her. “What?” He bowed, then, sweeping her hand to his lips lightly. “Walker?”



“You look positively radiant tonight.” He straightened. “Reminds me of when we were kids.” He laughed then. “Just wanted to be sure I could still do that.”



“Do what?” Now she was curious, and she leaned on the doorframe.



“Be charming and charismatic.” He shrugged. “Thought maybe I forgot how to be.”



“Right. I believe this is where I back away slowly.” The redhead teased, though she did actually need to get going. “Have fun pickin’ your young lady up. See ya later!” She breezed out, clearly heading back up the stairs to fetch both the infant and the gunslinger. He glanced back at himself in the mirror, before shrugging and heading to fetch Belle.

-



He hadn’t noticed the skirmish between Essie and Sarah- and even if he had he probably would have passed by anyway. It didn’t concern him, not yet- and Essie would have no way of recognizing him. He looked rough around the edges now, after all. He did, however, catch sight of a very amused Will, who was watching the whole thing with interest through the window, feet improperly resting on the desk in front of the window in a relaxed, unassuming pose that would have irritated Galatea to no end. Still, he passed by, entering the inn with that unassuming grace he had. It was quiet- and that was when he spotted HER. He nearly didn’t recognize her, at first, until he saw the eyes.



Lord almighty…



He actually had to remind himself to breathe normally as his eyes took her in. He was glad he had gone with a black tie, for it nearly matched her gown, and certainly her hair. His eyes roved her face, one brow arched curiously, until he was close enough to her- where he dropped into a formal bow and swept her hand to his lips again, eyes never once leaving hers. “Enchanté.” His voice was very soft, and his smile genuine, before he turned his eyes to the older woman nearby. He gave a bow of his head to her, in acknowledgement of the fairer sex, a smile seemingly permanent on his face. “Ma’am.” He had seen her around town, of course- it wasn’t exactly hard to have seen any single person at least once if you passed through, but he did consider here to be home. And his family was influential enough that he knew everybody worth knowing, which he liked. If he did not know them in name, he knew them in face. He was often seen in Tarquin’s company, and everyone knew the town doctor- he just hadn’t been formally introduced to the woman who ran the Inn. “I’ll keep an eye on this one for ya, I promise.” He let his smile reassure the matronly woman. He was not a troublemaker in these parts, and his reputation was fairly good, considering his family.



Tarquin and Sarah didn’t have so much as a blemish on their reputation, and as he was indeed part of their family, such as it was, he was respected in these parts. That, and his gentlemanly upbringing and former occupation, made for an all-around nice person. His sister was the one thing at odds with his reputation- even if she went out of her way to keep out of trouble- as was her man. But this did not faze him in the least. He’d stuck with Galatea when she had been a wh*re, he would stick by her now that she was, for all intents and purposes, a distraction.



“Walker Shaw,” he said it politely, knowing that he had not been introduced and his upbringing would demand nothing less. He smiled charmingly at Belle. “I realized when I went home I plumb forgot to tell ya my last name,” he said it softly, with a little chuckle, before offering her his arm, waiting for her to take it, before resting his free hand on hers. “Shall we?”



-



He kept his strides matched with hers, not wanting to tug her along like an animal- and this time he did notice the commotion on the street, thanks to his amused nephew who had come out and crossed to him, giving his a curious glance. Will had certainly inherited more of his father- the long, lean length, the kittenish smile, and that stubborn jawline- but his mother’s coloring and attitude. He gave Belle a little nod, the way he had seen his father acknowledge women, before his gaze shifted to his uncle.



“What’s that all about?” A quirked brow, which was much more Galatea than the more stoic Doc, accompanied the question.



“Huh?” Walker glanced in the direction, before a smile shot over his face. “I can’t believe it…”



“You know her, then?”



“She practically raised me an’ your mama.” He couldn’t stop the happy grin on his face.



“Really?” Will looked back over at the little group with more interest. “Doesn’t look old enough to have raised you and mama.”



“And your mama and father don’t look old enough to have a grown son and grandbaby,” he countered good-naturedly, before seeming to realize that his nephew had not yet met Belle. “Oh, Will… this is Belle. Belle, this is my nephew, Wilson Jonathan.” He didn’t tag the last name on.



“Ma’am,” Will extended his hand for a gentle shake, polite. “I apologize for earlier.” He chuckled, much as his father might. “Sometimes I am too much like my mama- I didn’t mean to offend.” Walker was mentally glad to see the sparkle in his nephew’s eye. The young man was starting to look better, starting to fall back into his old ways, and beginning to reconnect with his family. He had taken Allison’s death hard, but was overcoming it, now.



“We just can’t do a thing with his manners,” Walker teased. “Lord knows we’ve tried.”



“Because you’re such a saint yourself, Uncle.” Will laughed now, a musical blend of his mother’s throaty one and his father’s light, airy one when he was particularly amused. “I do hope you don’t mind charmers, ma’am- my uncle is just that.”



“And my nephew is a pool hustler,” he said pleasantly.



“I play straight.” He shook his head. “Unless Uncle Tarr isn’t. Then I simply tip the odds back in my favor.” He laughed. The men in his family all had a competitive spirit, but he and Tarquin were particularly vicious when they played. Will knew the ins and outs of poker, had learned it at his father’s knee, and was, of course, fairly good at it. But his passion was billiards, like his uncle. Tarquin had delighted in teaching Will the ins and outs of shooting pool, and the boy was almost as good as he was. Will had a remarkably sharp eye, and was eerily accurate with his shots, but Tarquin had that flash.



“I’m just teasin’ ya, Will.” He laughed outright, drawing the gaze of the woman- who had finally released Sarah - to the tall man. Her eyes widened, taking him in, and he felt himself start to blush under that scrutiny. He knew she saw his father in his features- but he was unprepared for her to storm in his direction, swatting his arm lightly before hugging him tightly- and he reluctantly released Belle. Will stepped up, though, not leaving her alone without a friend.



“Wilson Jonathan Sullivan…” she looked up at him. “Oh, my boy… my sweetheart.” She touched his cheek- he blushed, but grinned. His nephew tilted his head curiously, having nearly responded to his formal name before he had caught the last name. “All grown up now, aren’t you?”



“Sure am.” He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Mama Essie. How did you…?”



“I didn’t,” she broke him off. “Oh, boy, I didn’t. Had I known you were here, I’d have come sooner.”



“Then why…?”



“I came in response to a request from a W.J. Holliday.” She smiled, confidently. “I am good at takin’ care of young’uns.”



“No one better,” Walker murmured, casting a look to Will, who shrugged before clearing his throat politely, to attract her attention. And her attention he got, her eyes snapping to his face, jaw dropping in astonishment. The young man was tall- probably only an inch or so shy of hitting his father’s height, though the two men were, more or less, on eye level. His hair color, though, was pure Sullivan, shot through with the gold from the Holliday side. The eyes were pure Sullivan, with just the faintest hint of blue, adding depth and interest. He didn’t flinch under the gaze, rather quirked up a brow with a half-smile on his face, just a bit brighter than his fathers.



“Ma’am?”



“Oh, my…” her eyes devoured his face. “You…”



“Essie, this is Will,” Walker offered hastily. Galatea and Doc were not on the streets yet that he could see, and for this he was mentally glad.



“Will…”



“Wilson Jonathan Holliday, actually, ma’am.” He shook his head at his uncle, as if in chide. “I was under the impression you’d be on the train in two days’ time, or I’d have been there to meet you.” He gave a little half bow, as if not sure how to properly greet the woman who was staring at him as if she were afraid of him, or hesitant to believe he was real. “Ma’am?”



“I…” she touched her throat. “I’m sorry. It’s just… you look so much like your father.” She nearly reached out to touch, now. “You got your mother’s coloring, though.”



“And her temperament,” Walker sighed.



“Funny, father always said I was more hers than his,” he said it fondly, though- not realizing that he was, in fact, referring to the man in past tense. But these conversations had always taken place



“You’re a nearly perfect blend between them.” She blinked back tears. So, her precious girl had spent a few years with her man before dying. That was good. And this boy could never truly be denied by either- he was surely his father’s son. “Got your mama’s hair, though.”



“No, my sister got her hair. I got most of the color, but not all.” He held out a hand, beckoning his sister closer. She broke away from the young man dutifully, a demure smile on her face as she passed, embracing her brother with a smile fixed on her face. Her hair was a mass of curls, like her mother’s- and the same rich scarlet. “Celestine, this is Essie.” Her eyes widened- brilliant sapphire pools, before she looked askance at her uncle. Were they serious?



They were.



Essie looked at the girl carefully. She was her mother’s daughter, nearly a carbon-copy- except for the eyes. The eyes were blue- and she carried no other hint of the Holliday line about her. Clearly, she must have only been a half-sister of the young man. She did not have the same curves as her mother, though- a bit more petite, and slender, and shorter than her mother had been by a good five or six inches. Still, her figure was feminine, not boyish- and her face was pretty. The girl was looking at her the same way.



“Miss Essie.” She smiled, a welcoming one that echoed the smile of her mother, her voice softer than her boisterous mother, and without the lilting accent. “I’m Celeste.” She took the woman’s hand, gently. She was the softer of the siblings.



“Celeste…” she murmured the name. It was pretty- French for Heavenly- and suited the girl perfectly. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” She murmured to herself. So much like Gwen… she even had the fetching head tilt down to a science. Her gaze returned to Sarah, then- she sighed. “You’ve done a good job raisin’ these two in their mother’s absence.”



Celeste goggled. Will managed to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright. Walker, who had reclaimed Belle by now, laughed softly, but shook his head in protest when Will looked about to correct him. The young man looked at him as though he had lost his mind- they *should* tell the woman now, but Walker shook his head again, forcefully.



‘No, Will.’ His mind slammed against his nephews, and both cringed. ‘She doesn’t need to know yer mama and daddy are still alive. Not yet, anyway. Just let her fawn over ya for now.’

[Doc_Holliday]

(I don't remember what all I've read...I'm making half of this up as I go. Edits....as usual...can go where necessary!)

Every time she looked down at her hand and caught a glimpse of the beautiful sapphire gem cradled in its gold setting she experienced a little jolt of excitement. Her heart fluttered and her eyes would search to find the man in her life who had bestowed it upon her, along with it giving his promise to love and cherish her forever. She would meet his gaze from across the room and be powerless to stop a laugh at herself, reading into his half-hearted, teasing little eye roll every time she did it. She had been doing it for the last month and it still hadn't gotten old. Not to her, at least.

She placed the last curl of her hair with her usual preciseness, perfecting the look for the evening. It had been a long time since her entire family had been out together and she desperately wanted things to go flawlessly. While she had high hopes, she was also realistic. With the group at hand there was always the potential for trouble, or at the very least, drama. She had come to accept it. It wouldn't be normal without it. She let herself smile at her reflection in the mirror, still fussing with a tendril of hair that wasn't exactly perfect before rising and smoothing out the fabric of her dress. She always looked put together and refined but this evening she allowed some lavishness, wearing her finest royal blue gown and donning a sophisticated hairstyle that was a reminder of her high breeding. It was not out of place for where they were going and she still enjoyed dressing up and going out as much as she had when she was younger. Her wore only modest earrings and a simple necklace, the ring on her finger enough to keep her content. Once satisfied, she walked out of her and Tarquin's room, rounding the corner just in time to nearly run into the man she was looking for.

"Tarr!" She said with surprise but delight obvious in her sweet tone. She pecked him on the cheek lovingly and laughed it off. She glanced around to see where everyone was and what they were doing, in no rush at all. They had plenty of time, it wasn't as if any of them were unable to stand long nights. This was the time of day that respectable people were often seen doing their nightly parade through the streets of their city showing off their latest fashions, and she allowed Tarquin to lead her outside and make their way slowly but surely to where they would be spending their evening, dining and enjoying the company of those around them. She hardly considered it a celebration of her engagement, settling happily to think of it as a night out with dearly loved ones that had gone through much over the past few months. Things were finally seeming to return to normal.

Her arm was draped loosely through Tarquin's as they walked together. They matched each other perfectly and received constant nods of acknowledgement from acquaintances and social equals. Even though her brother was feared and people were wary of him, Sarah maintained a respectable place in people's minds. She was always there when someone needed something of her, as was Tarquin. They were indeed quite an influential couple within the community. "Aww, look," she spoke then, catching sight of Walker with the young lady on his arm. She had a natural beauty and grace about her. Walker was gentleman enough to match his strides to her tiny frame. Sarah had heard her mentioned earlier in the day, briefly, but hadn't had time to come up with a mental image of the girl. Whatever it would have been, it most likely would have fallen flat. Her black hair against her fair skin created a stark contrast that anyone could appreciate, and it seemed that she had already easily won the attentions of Walker Shaw. Sarah Holliday smirked and stopped, time on their side.

She was unable to approach Walker and the young girl that he was escorting now, though. Her name suddenly broke out across the constant murmur of the crowd and she turned around with wide blue just in time to catch sight of a woman moving towards her, using her full name and with hands on her hips in an all too familiar image.

"I-," she began, but her mind was blank and seeing the woman threw her back in time to when she was sixteen again. "Miss Essie," she finally sputtered out still in too much disbelief to offer much more than acknowledgement that she knew who she was. Of course she remembered Miss Essie. That woman's no nonsense approach to life and utter lack of hesitation to speak whatever it was that was on her mind were not easily forgotten. And Sarah loved her dearly for it. She didn't answer her demanding questions, knowing they were more rhetorical and chastising for not telling her where she was. Even if she had something conjured up in her mind as something of an explanation, it would have been lost when she Essie threw her arms around the blonde woman, hugging her tight.

"No," she answered, arm dropping from Tarquin's to fully embrace Essie. No, she wasn't imagining it although Sarah honestly felt herself that she may be the one imagining it. It felt entirely too surreal. Tarquin seemed to be enjoying the exchange but Sarah fidgeted next to him, taking his arm up again as if it were a lifeline to reality. His confession that he had been a feline while known to others didn't always go over well, case-in-point being her own brother. She herself had been put off by it, but she had quickly overcome the barrier, able to separate the cat from the man. It seemed that Doc was unable to do so.

"Miss Essie," she spoke, still feeling for the world sixteen again. "I'm so sorry. Really. But I can't tell you how happy I am to see you again." Her eyes welled with tears, happy tears for seeing her again, and sad tears for realizing how much she had missed out on and reliving the decision she had to make to leave her and come out West. Thankfully, Walker approached, Will hanging back to keep his date company while he, or rather, Wilson Sullivan, was reunited with Essie. The tenderness between Essie and Walker had not been lost and Sarah's heart sank for the misery they must have all put her through.

She felt her face flush she realized that Essie recognized John Henry Holliday in Will, her emotional reaction seeming to indicate that she believed him to be dead. Will also curiously spoke of him in the past tense. Under ordinary circumstances this would not have been out of place; however, it surely reinforced Essie's belief that he was no longer with them. Celeste was also present but didn't seem to draw the same level of reaction from Essie. Will had been enough of a shock, it seemed. She met Essie's gaze again when she spoke to her, eyes fluttering several times as if she had to bring her attention back to the present.

"Miss Essie-," she began, feeling that it was only right to inform her that the parents of the children that she so admired now were still very much alive, but she didn't have the opportunity. Besides, it seemed that Walker didn't want it all sprung on her now anyway.

He wouldn't have that luxury much longer anyway. Doc Holliday and his woman, Galatea, were following closely behind Sarah and Tarquin. Also ahead of them were Walker and his date, and Will and Celeste. While the couple of the hour were dressed in their finest, most sophisticated and yet modest clothing, Doc Holliday and Galatea again dressed as anyone might expect them to. They were flashy, demanded attention and respect, and most certainly received it this evening. Doc had easily and willingly slipped back into the role of a gentleman, escorting Galatea properly through the streets with an arrogant smirk on his face that seemed to say that he knew he was a handsome man. His dark black suit and diamond stickpin matched perfectly with Tea's dove gray evening gown. Both were most appropriately clad much darker than their lighter counterparts.

He hadn't expected to catch up to them so quickly. It seemed that something had halted the progress of the rest of the group that had previously been ahead of them. Galatea was on one arm, and with his free hand he held a cigarette, the art of flicking it to the ground quickly should he need access to his weapon perfectly practiced. "What's this," he remarked with an amused tone, though Galatea's attention had no doubt already been drawn to the collection of their familiars off to the side of the busy street. Daylight was still in abundance, and so their faces were easily discernible even from this difference. "It seems we've hit a snag in our parade," he drawled, not entirely pleased with the idea of idle chatter with someone they knew. This was no ordinary someone, though, he slowly began to realize.

He had always liked Essie. She was direct and honest, something he could always appreciate, even in his younger days. But his concerns and troubles after their brief time together and nearly entirely overridden her in his memory. If they hadn't spoken of her only a month or so ago, it would have taken him much longer to recognize her. Until he heard her speak, at least. Then he would have remembered. He slowed their walk down, noting Galatea's horrified expression and obvious want to turn and run in the opposite direction. He himself wouldn't mind casually turning in another direction, but Sarah's gaze had found the pair, bringing the rest of the group's attention their way as well.

"Brace yourself, darlin'," he said with a chuckle. He knew full well that they couldn't turn away now. They had been spotted and he was not one to be rude. Not to someone like Essie, at least. The duo approached the gathering, Doc as confident and arrogant as usual. He seemed to be a secondary point of interest though, and he took the time to study the woman's face carefully. There was no mistaking her now to be anyone but Essie. Sarah looked mortified but pleased to see her again, and he threw a wink at her as he continued to casually smoke the cigarette in his hand. Everyone was here and accounted for, plus one. His hard blue gaze grazed over the young, dark-haired girl that was hanging back, now, though Will was dutifully keeping her from feeling awkward and out of place as her date greeted a dear old friend. She was looking quite fine indeed but lacked much confidence or gusto so far. A few days with Galatea would remedy that. He gave her a curt nod in greeting when he caught her eye, noting that he hadn't seen her around before. Walker certainly knew how to snatch up the worthwhile ones before anyone else could get their hands on them.

With a cough he deposited the remains of his cigarette into the dust beneath him, digging it into the ground with his foot. He was enjoying his position as a mere observer in the exchange between Essie and Tea, though his tall frame provided support just by being present even if she was not in physical contact with him. He kept his expression relatively stoic and let his gaze flicker back and forth between Galatea, Essie, and whatever else that was going on around him that was worthy of his attention. Every once in awhile when he was sure that neither of them were looking, a faint smile would threaten to appear at the corner of his mouth. He was a bystander in this all so far, and he had no qualms with that. It was the best way to learn about the current situation.

[Galatea]

((Ugh. This was so much better but I came home and my cats had KILLED my computer and it got deleted. And I didn't save. So this is probably carryhing a very angry vibe. Sorry, guys!))

The remark from the handsome man by Sarah’s side caught her attention, finally, and she pried her attention from the two siblings who had so intrigued her. Four paws and a tail? Why, that was just nonsense!

“I am certain I haven’t met you before, Mr. O’Brien.” She would remember a handsome face like that, she was sure.

“Tarquin, or Tarr, please.” He corrected her gently. He was not a formal man by any means- he didn’t tolerate it from many people- and he did not want her to feel she had to be such with him. He reclaimed Sarah by now, this time sliding an arm around her waist lightly. The pair complimented one another perfectly, both in attire and behavior. He could read the mild distress, the shock, in his woman, and offered her his frame to steady herself. By now, he had caught sight of petite little Belle back near Will, and he smiled a friendly greeting to her. She was petite, compared to the women in their family, but that was not a bad thing. She was a pretty little thing, and matched Walker quite well. Seemed on the shy side, though- and he grinned. Galatea would help ease her into a more confident woman.

It was baffling at how well she did this. He had seen it many times, but it never failed to amaze him. It was as if she had been born to do this. She would not make the woman into anything horrible, or degrading, either. She would bolster her self-confidence, and draw her out. But, even now, he caught the flash of scarlet that told him how close the other couple in the family was, and he shook his head almost sadly.

Poor Essie.

-

Galatea couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break free every so often- usually when she glanced up at Doc. They were still a flashy couple, but this time as a pair more composed. There would be no slipping into his lap this evening, and, most likely, no nightly amusement spent in the saloon. And, though it was rare, the pair were matching perfectly tonight. Still, her hand did rest on his elbow, even if the pair still stood closer than was strictly proper. But they always had, so this was perfectly normal for both. Still, he definitely looked good tonight, and she made her appreciation known often, usually with a little stroke of his arm with her free hand, or in that adorable tilt to her head. But, mostly, it was in the way she looked at him. “We don’t do this enough,” she said it almost wistfully. Not that the close-knit family didn’t spend time together- they did. If she wasn’t with Doc, she was with Sarah, or Tarquin, or even Walker- or one of their children. But they didn’t often actually have a communal evening. Doc and Tea were nearly permanent fixtures in any one of the saloons on any given night- Tarquin and Sarah often went out for dinner. Will was no longer living under their roof- though no one had forced him out, he had wanted some independence, and rented a suite close to the clinic he and Tarquin ran. Celestine was starting to spread her wings, slowly and nervously, and they often didn’t see the girl head for home until late in the evening. Walker… well, he was constantly in and out (another reason she was glad he seemed to have some interest in sticking around now).

She glanced up when his strides slowed- they didn’t stop, of course- and when he spoke she followed his gaze to the curious scene. Will looked over the head of the shorter woman, his expression clearly saying ‘help’. At first, she didn’t really register the familiar face, until the woman hugged Sarah again and she caught the face. Her smile faded, eyes going wide in half-horror, half-delight. But horror was winning out, and she nearly turned and sped in the opposite direction- something Doc had clearly calculated already, and his half-mocking comment served to bring the fire back into Galatea’s eyes- something he had probably planned. She shot him a look that clearly asked what the hell was going on, but sighed, resigned to meet her fate. She looked more like a woman going to meet an executioner than one going to dinner. She still kept her grip on her man, though.

Their son glanced up with a half-smirk, now. It was that little smirk he had when he was up to something, and she shook her head in protest. They were just outside of Essie’s line of vision, still- though no doubt her hair was going to attract her attention soon. Remarkably, though, it wasn’t Will, rather Celeste, who brought attention to her mother.

“Mama!” She said it happily, clearly pleased to see her parents. “Daddy!” Will looked about to burst into laughter, and she sent him a scathing glance.

“Hi, mama.” He deliberately said it slowly, so that the woman released his aunt and turned. He didn’t greet his father verbally, though he did flash him a smirk.

“Will. Celeste.” She managed to get out before she was nearly bowled over by the shorter woman, as Essie flung her arms around the redhead. Thankfully, she had braced herself enough to keep from falling over, even if, at first, she did not wrap her arms around the crying woman. This was more out of complete and utter shock, before she tentatively wound her arms around the sturdy woman. She slowly began to relax- and then became aware that Essie was actually sobbing. Now, that wasn’t going to be permitted. She firmly nudged the woman back, eyes steeled just enough to get the impression that she was being wholly serious. “Quit that.” Her voice, though, was shaky.

“You’re not dead…” Essie was nigh-hysterical now. “You’re not dead!”

“No.” She cast a curious look to Doc, who was still nearby- of course he was.

“And you found him, and he fathered a child before he died.”

“Uh… huh?” She felt the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile at that. Who was dead? Or, who did the woman think was dead? General? Well, no- and Tarquin was here. Walker? No. It hit her then, and she had to fight the urge to laugh outright at that. Well, he wasn’t dead, but clearly the woman didn’t recognize him, and she managed to get in a dejected expression. “You got me. Will does look like his daddy, doesn’t he?” A quirk of her brow towards said-father, who was not attracting any attention from the woman.

“Miss Gwen, if I’d known I’d have come with you. It couldn’t be easy, bein’ left without a man of you’rn to help with a baby.”

“I had plenty of help,” she shrugged, the feeling still too-surreal. She realized, by now, that Essie did not recognize her young suitor in the handsome gambler who was hanging back slightly- and that the woman sent a few scathing looks at him, until he finished off the cigarette which was apparently offending the woman. No, Essie wouldn’t approve of that, and she felt a smile twitch up her lips.

“But, Miss Gwen…”

“Galatea. Or Gallie, or Tea.” She corrected automatically. Not Gwen, absolutely not!

“Gwen…” Walker said it softly- and she glared in his direction.

“Gallie, to you, little brother.” She said it firmly, before her eyes returned to Essie and gentled. “Mama Essie, I’m just fine.” She laughed then, nervously. It was obvious that she thought the man who was currently standing near her, lips half-twitching in amusement every so often- she didn‘t need to look at him, she could *feel* it. She nearly rolled her eyes, but instead she let a little smirk come to her face. “Oh, Essie… haven‘t changed, have ya?” She sent her man a mocking grin, eyes amused, as she gently eased away from the woman to reclaim the gunslinger.

The woman’s sharp gaze passed him over rather quickly. He was tall and lean- but her girl had always liked a man who could look her in the eye- pale and handsome as sin. Her gaze lingered in the gun at his hip- from the way her girl stood, she could not catch the subtle hint of the one in the low shoulder holster. Apparently, everyone carried in a town like this, something that didn’t sit well with the woman. A man like that, around her precious girl? And that girl was looking very amused, come to think of it. She stood close to him, so close that she was unsure if there was any space between them or not, which was improper unless the pair were married- which Essie noticed was not the case. And, unless she was not mistaken, Miss Celeste had just called the man ’daddy’. Well, wasn’t that nice? Her girl had gone and had a child out of wedlock. There was no glint of a ring on the redhead’s finger, though she did seem quite content and comfortable. And her clothes! Why, this was hardly the young woman she had raised and loved for nearly seventeen years! The gown was flashy, matching the handsome man by her side perfectly- it showed off an enviable figure, and the neckline was just a hint lower cut than was strictly proper. She was not a lady of the night, though- even if her close proximity and obviously loose morals were on display to the whole town.

Yet no one looked surprised, and the man she was leaning against was not pulling away. She was obviously his, if not in name in possession. Gwen, in turn, was resting one hand over his sternum, as if in an attempt to soothe, even if her eyes were solely on her. Not a soul was eyeing the attractive woman- as if she were actually attached to the man by her side. It was this that made her reconsider. Perhaps this man had simply stepped in to help her raise Will. Perhaps they were merely friends- though the daughter did make that story less believable.

Or perhaps her girl had chosen to stay unmarried out of respect for the dead.

Yes, that had to be it. While they were not married, if their daughter was any indication, common law would surely have kicked in by now. Yet, even as she studied the woman, there was no hint of remorse in her stance. Clearly, she was besotted with the gunman by her side, for she had not moved, except to lean her head against his shoulder, eyes still direct.

“Lordy, Gwen-girl. What have you done and mixed up with this time?”