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

[Mistress_Unknown]

The nightingale is still locked in the cage
The deep breath I took still poisons my lungs
An old oak sheltering me from the blue
Sun bathing on its dead frozen leaves

A catnap in the ghost town of my heart
She dreams of storytime and the river ghosts
Of mermaids, of whitman's and the rude
Raving harlequins, gigantic toys

A song of me a song in need
Of a courageous symphony
A verse of me a verse in need
Of a pure heart singing me to peace

Song of Myself-Nightwish
__________________________________________________

The sun was something she would never get used to. It was always hot in America, and the sun was always there. She held the handle of her parasol tightly, walking down the streets quietly, eyes trained to the ground and her grace like that of a trained Lady. More than once did she feel the wanton gazes of the men leaning against posts or on their horses, but she kept her gaze to the ground and her parasol close over her head. It also did not help that she had black hair. And though her hair was put up and pinned to her head, the length of it still meant there was a good part that draped down her back in straight lengths, reaching the mid-section of her back. In the shade of her parasol, the lengths appeared ebony, but in the golden light of the sun, streaks of brown glittered by bronze.

She was not alone. Next to her, on the right side walked a man easily twice her age with a retreating hair line. He was an imposing figure, and carried himself with a selfish air. He thought himself important. “Are the shoes alright?” He asked the young woman next to him. Without lifting her eyes, the woman nodded. “Yes. Thank you, father.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper and surprisingly smooth, perfectly hiding the disdain at calling the man by her father. The shoes spoken of where a pair of brown heeled boots that made her appear taller than she was. They were a gift to her from the man next to her, something akin to a birthday gift, though it was not her birthday. Most likely because he forgot her birthday again. He seemed to forget many things about her, but she could not hold anger to him for long. She was here in America with her mother because of him. But that did not change the resentment she held him in.

He nodded and kept walking, the pair appearing much like a show dog being walked by its master. She wanted to get away from him, but when she attempted to walk slower, he just matched her pace, asking her if she was tired. She bit her tongue to keep her voice under control and responded automatically, much as she just did. But she was getting tired. She slowed for a moment to trigger his question and when he seemed focused, she lifted her parasol slightly and spoke. “Father?” She asked quietly. He quickly looked to his step-daughter and nodded. “Yes?” She stalled for a moment, stopping her walk down the dirty street. “I am tired. May be take a rest?” She asked quietly. He nodded eagerly and soon she found herself inside a saloon, sitting at a table near the entrance, across from her step-father.

He called a woman over and ordered water for his daughter, who kept her eyes on her hands in her lap. He’d never know that she was thinking of bolting away from him the moment he left a moment alone. Her hands quietly clenched and unclenched as she impatiently waited. But the man did not leave and she was soon given her water, to which she drank slowly but gratefully. The sun had done a number on her. Her hair was dark and attracted the heat, but her clothing was no better. Her step father had taken her shopping that day and along with buying her the shoes that were now making her feet protest movement; she was now in possession of a light blue gown that had longer sleeves, and another pair of white gloves that she was currently wearing. The dress was pretty enough, and brought out her hair and eyes, but the fabric was stiff and hot. It also has a collar that covered half of her sawn-like neck and she desperately wanted to detach it from the dress. It was lace, and therefore itchy. Her parasol, a white one with a black lace trim, was one of the few things from Europe she still had. All her European gowns had been stored away for social events and parties, so now she was wearing the more down-to-earth clothing of the Americans.

Another thing she really wanted to remove from her person was the ridiculous bump in the back of her dress that made her look like she was had a second person under her skirt. It was ridiculous and dug into her back uncomfortably. It was times like this she regretted having a tax-collector for a step father. Not only did no one like her father, but the extra money was put into her appearance. She felt like an object for sure, a walking shrine to dirty money and lying gain. She missed the light silks of her traditional outfits, and not the ones from Europe. No, while those were pretty enough and she enjoyed wearing them, she missed the outfits she wore on her mother’s birthday or when she managed to convince her father to let her wear them.

She missed her Chinese robes. The thin silk layers, with colors vibrant as the sunset, the feel of being dressed like those from her mother’s country. But she was forced to be Christian now, whatever that meant. She doubted anything concerning her step-father was Christian. She remembered her real father taking her and her mother to church a few times, but they had been cast out because they were Chinese. What she had read from the Bible, weren’t Christians supposed to be accepting? Well, if being Christian meant that she had to wear uncomfortable gowns bought with cheated money from people’s taxes, she was positive she wanted nothing to do with being Christian.

“Abigail?” The voice of her step-father broke her from her thoughts and she looked up with curious eyes to see another man had joined them at the table. “Yes?” She asked. Her step-father’s face was smiling, but not in a friendly way, but in a way that a cat could before pouncing on a rat. “This man would like his fortunes told.” He said and Abigail sighed internally. She was her father’s dancing puppet, if nothing else, and had to perform feats of magic for paying customers. Tarot readings, fortune telling and even contacting spirits were the ways she unwillingly helped her father swindle people. She reached into a bag that was attached to her wrist and slowly brought out a deck of Tarot cards when a commotion brought everyone’s attention to a group of men throwing two Indian traders out of the saloon.

“You’re not welcome here, you know that.” She heard the leader say and she bit her tongue to keep herself from hissing. She heard a feminine voice outside yelling that someone should stop them, and had her father not been there, she might have been convinced to answer that plea. But her father snorted and turned attention back to her. “Abigail. Don’t get distracted. The man wants to know about his future.” He chided her and Abigail nodded, putting her cards on the table when the group spotted her and took notice of her eyes. It was all over then.

“Hey! Get that Chinawoman out of here!” They shouted and Abigail stiffened as they approached. “We don’t want her in here either!” They yelled as they grabbed her wrist and dragged her to her feet. She winced visibly at their grip, and while her step-father attempted to calm the men, she took her chance to get away. She raised her leg as far as her skirt would allow over her other leg and like a cocking gun, she locked it into place. The movement was mostly unseen under her skirts, unless someone was paying attention, but the look in her hardened grey-blue eyes was clear. It took only seconds, but her foot collided against the young man’s hip with practiced perfection. The reaction was almost immediate, he cried out in pain and released her to grip his hip and fell to the floor. The impact point would quickly bruise and darken, and it was deep. He would walk funny for days. If not just a bruise, she most likely cracked his hip bone. But before he could look at her with a look of disbelief and his friends could jump her for revenge, she was gone. Her parasol had been grabbed in the same second he let go and she was out the door in the same moment he hit the floor.

She made her way quickly away from the visual site of the saloon and ducked her way into the first alleyway she found. She rested against the wall for a moment before looking at the building she was leaning against. It was a doctor’s office, a place of healing. Her wrist was still hurting from the man’s grip and she lifted the tight sleeve over it, grimacing when a faint outline of purple formed in the shape of the man’s hand. Well, it would certainly be a good idea to get the bruise looked at...and she could stay in the office until the trouble had blown over. So...she moved to dart into the open doorway and backed away from the window, colliding with a body.

Quick as a whip, she turned herself around and looked at the figure she had bumped into. “Forgive me, I am sorry.” She apologized with a slight bow. Her voice was still slightly breathless, but she returned to carrying herself like a Lady, not a woman running away from a rag-tag group of idiots who were no doubt out to get her. Her appearance was still graceful, even if a few stay locks now fell across her practically flat chest. And at first glance, she did not look like one of the pale Asian women that the men here in America talking about, and she thanked the makeup she had on for that. Even if it did feel like she was wearing a mask.

But she remained as a lovely person to look at, a graceful beauty that was so unlike the wild beauty of most of the American women or the arrogant beauty of the European women. Her beauty was graceful, clever, and subtly made a person nervous.

Just like a fox.

((Hmmm. That may the second longest post I’ve ever written...
PS: I hope it's okay.....))

[Doc_Holliday]

(Hello and welcome!)

He was quick to pick up on her distaste for the treatment of the two traders as they took their leave of the abusive group of men, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as she practically begged him, anyone, to do something. He had been down that road before and ended up with some pretty cuts and bruises to show for it. Even when had sided with the Indians, he was scorned for not fully being one of them. The issue was less his mixed blood and more that he had grown up among the white townspeople. Few people remembered his birth mother, and had just slowly come to accept Alice as his one and only mother. The woman was a saint, raising her husband's half Cheyenne child as one of own even before she had her own children. Luke had first felt replaced when she and his father had children together, white children, but the dynamic between the family changed very little and he was accepting of things and the way they were for the most part now. Still, he couldn't help but wonder whenever he saw them if his mother was still alive out there and if she ever thought about him.

He blinked when he looked back to Celeste, having to jog his memory and think what cue he had given her that his mind was following after the pair. He smiled, though, widening his eyes and looking innocent. "Me? No." He laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes, and he once again let his gaze drift over her head to where they had disappeared over a hill. "No, I don't think we'd really get along." The statement by itself could have been taken as Luke simply being a settler that disliked Indians, but his tone of voice indicated something deeper. He smiled, about to wrap an arm around her and continue on their way but he could tell that she was still troubled, her expression becoming more serious. He grew more solemn as well, meeting her gaze and wishing she were not so distressed. That was something he liked about her, though. She cared about their treatment even when it had no effect on her whatsoever.

"No," he agreed when she spoke again, her voice soft and filled with concern. "But next time they may come looking for it..." he trailed off sadly, the violence that occasionally erupted between the two groups of people that he was supposed to be part of weighing heavily on him. He couldn't help but smile at her innocent, and arguably naive, view on different people. It was true that she was now familiar with Miss Essie, so Celeste was no complete stranger to diversity. He also knew it was true that if there was one thing that could unite the races, it was hatred for the "red Indians". He laughed, shaking his head, the sadness in his eyes for the conclusion he had reached long ago that things would not get between between the two clashing cultures still lingering. "More people should be like you, Celeste." He did take her hand and arm again then, letting her pull him into the mercantile to pick up the special sweet treats for young Eliza.

That mission being accomplished, they strolled the streets together, Celeste acknowledging the people that she knew politely when they passed as was customary, and Luke following loyally alongside her. He was sure that her brother and Tarquin would not be pleased with him for already having freed his arm from the sling, but he was being careful and moving it as little as possible. Luckily it was his left shoulder, and he was most dominant with his right arm, so his situation could have been much worse. The good thing about walking the streets were the many sights to see. Luke had never stopped to enjoy the scenery, and he found himself peering into the store windows as much as Celeste was; clueless, but appreciative of the extravagant fashions and products displayed proudly in the windows. He hesitated and snorted when he looked at a piece of furniture in a store window, a crooked and amused smile crossing his features then. He could make that. He had a way of working with natural materials that few people that knew him could match.

Before he had to leave again, Celeste reminded him that her mother had insisted he come by and see them again. Still hesitant, he agreed, and they turned back to retrieve Cleo and take her with them back to her home a few short blocks from the main part of town. He untied her and patted her nose, the gentle mare turning and following him without having to be asked. He retied her once they reached her house, the family that was quickly beginning to become familiar again once again camped out on their porch, enjoying the afternoon. This time they seemed even more relaxed, the woman known as Essie lovingly brushing Galatea's long scarlet locks. He followed Celeste up the steps, eyes darting to the cat that was sunning himself lazily, obviously enjoying the presence of his human companions.

"Yes, I remember." He smiled at looked at Galatea when she was mentioned. "Bruin," he repeated, bending down and holding out his hand for the cat to smell before he caressed his head and neck affectionately. He clearly had a soft spot for animals, often treating his horses better than he treated himself. He would forgo something he needed until after they had eaten and been properly shod if necessary. He watched as Celeste scooped the cat up and held him up closer for him to see, laughing and scratching the cat's chin now. "Hello, Bruin," he greeted the cat "properly" now that they were face to face. "He is a handsome cat," he concluded. Celeste had taken to the animal, and the former stray didn't seem to mind all of the attention being heaped upon him one bit.

The Irish doctor appeared from inside the house then, and Luke nearly shrank away when he saw his sharp gaze slide to where the sling was markedly absent. He had forgotten he would see him again, but he made no comment and so Luke failed to provide an explanation for his action. Still struggling with his place among then, he was torn between accepting the invitation to stay for their meal, and taking his polite leave. He had never been around people such as them that were so willing to allow him to be around them. He should have been comforted by the fact that they were not outright rude to him as some of the elite had the propensity to be, but he was actually unnerved by it. Not only did he suffer occasional doubt in his self-worth for his position on the social ladder, but it was compounded by the fact that he was keeping a secret from people that for most, would change their opinion of him. His half-breed label made him even more quiet and reserved around people like the Hollidays than was typical for even a working-class young man. Submissive wasn't quite the right word for it, but his confidence was visibly subdued around people of her family's social rank despite how much he liked them all.

"Good afternoon," he echoed when Tea greeted him, still not having verbalized whether he would be staying or going shortly.

Sarah Holliday flitted her way outside then as well, not wasting time and reattaching herself temporarily to Tarquin's side. "Of course he's staying." She smiled at him and Celeste, getting around to the greeting only after she made sure he knew he was not only welcomed, but encouraged to stay. "Good afternoon, Luke." She didn't mention his shoulder. He obviously didn't want it brought up or thought of since he had removed his sling would most likely have made it feel more secure and comfortable. She glanced back to Tarquin, meeting his gaze knowingly and rubbing his shoulder. She knew not much bothered him more than people going against the best medical advice he had to give, but he had enough tact to never condescend people, leaving their decisions to themselves.

After a quick kiss on the cheek, she unwrapped herself from him, moving over towards the side of the porch with her typical graceful movements. She leaned against the rail casually, looking happy and content as usual. She also had not seen her brother since they had all been together for breakfast that morning, but that was not unusual. He would often drift from one saloon to the next throughout the course of a day, tending to things with people who wished to speak with him and then returning home. He often had many favors or agreements requested of him. She didn't know why they bothered him with them when it was rather widely known that he would only trouble himself over a family member or very good friend. She wasn't concerned, and neither was Galatea. Both of the women knew that they only had to worry if he didn't return home after an extended period of time.

She looked back to Celeste and Luke, the boy still looking uncomfortable, though right now she couldn't tell if it was because of them or if it was more physical because of his shoulder. "So, did you two have a good afternoon?" She was smiling warmly, Tarquin having told her about his arrangement with the boy. Celeste would surely be pleased that she would be seeing a lot more of the young man.

(Lol! Doc will be back next post I PROMISE! There was just no appropriate place for entrance in this post...)

[Galatea]

((Wheee. So, I settled on a knife- his mother and father BOTH are handy with them, but he’s not going to use it- won’t have to. Sorry, Mister cannon fodder man!))
 
One of the great advantages of the clinic’s location was its proximity to the many pool halls and saloons up and down Main Street. Even inside, the cheerful sounds sometimes reached in, and Will shook his head when he heard the ruckus in the street, putting down the medical journal he had been reading after carefully marking his spot with a length of gauze before stepping out into the sun again, shading his eyes with his hand, deciding to go without a hat for nonce. The sun hit those gold highlights perfectly, and he watched his sister across the street with a sigh, shaking his head sadly. But it wasn’t his business, and he went back in, feet improperly propped on the desk, chair leaning back on the back two legs in a very improper manner, but it was comfortable. He resumed his reading, paying particular note to specific articles but not truly enjoying what he read, before setting it aside with a little huff.
 
He was bored! Mind-numbingly so. But both doctors were voracious readers, and so he merely had to walk across the room to find something more stimulating. He read the classics more often than not, and settled on a book before settling down again, this time not realizing some time had passed, until he heard commotion outside. He glanced through the window, shaking his  head and standing, bringing a knife with him.
 
Unlike his father, though, Will never really had to use it- people always reckoned he had quick hands like his father- and no one was stupid enough to tangle with the Holliday clan. Where there was one more would be sure to hop in if assistance was needed, and no one in their right mind wanted the family gunning for them. Still, he assumed a casual pose, though he did toss the knife, once, to show that indeed he had  a weapon, and no, he wasn’t opposed to using it. The woman being accosted was small and lithe, with hints of femininity about her, but slender as a willow branch. Her clothing fit in well with the others out and about, but she looked uncomfortable somewhat. That she was attractive did not register to the man right away- his sharp green-blue gaze fell to her swollen wrist, and his lips were set in a frown now. No one had any right to lay a finger on a woman, in his presence or not. But, since it was on his doorstep, he had every right to
intervene.
 
Johnny Fuller watched the tall young man step out of the shadows when he caught the glint of the knife as it was casually tossed and caught, expertly. The younger Holliday was well-known in town- both for his profession and for his billiards game- and, for the most part, stayed out of town squabbles and politics. He was indifferent to the law, though he tended to keep his nose clean. But when those eyes fixed themselves on Johnny’s face, he felt his blood run cold. No one in their right mind even looked in their direction- though he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had caught some of the commotion at least.
 
“I don’t think this lady deserves such harassment,” his voice was soft, almost playful- but serious all the same. Now that he was closer, the wrist had clearly been pulled and would be tender- already red welts were visible against her pale skin.
 
“N-no, sir.” The man backed up. “I-it wasn’t me, sir.”
 
“Sir?” Now a brow rose in amusement, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, or, indeed, laughing outright. His attention turned to the women- she didn’t seem upset with the man, so he nodded. “Alright, Johnny, you have my permission to go, now.” The younger man bolted, and now he did smile as he turned to face the woman, now. “Ma’am? Are you alright?”
 
He took time to look at her, now- and the eyes were first to capture his attention. They were a pretty color, and shape- and he sighed. No. He wasn’t going to see the woman as being attractive. Not at all- he had no desire to court a woman.
 
“Ma’am,” he said it again. “I’m one of the town doctors. I can see to your wrist.”
 
---
 
Essie still loved her girl’s hair. The fiery strands were impossible to resist for most, though- she’d seen Mister John toy with it on more than one occasion, twirling one particular lock around his finger, or brushing his fingers through the silken tresses while Gwen tried to feign that she didn’t like it, while decidedly turning into a mush and letting him support her for the most part, enjoying his touch. But, then, Mister John seemed to enjoy just touching her in any capacity- the pair was usually next-to inseparable- and she had seen the loving way he looked at the woman when he thought no one was looking. And he let her use him as a pillow, or a chair, or even a lean post. The gunman was dangerous, but whatever softness he still had in him was freely given to Gwen.
 
That had overcome any objections she had voiced that first night.
 
She had been shocked when she found that they shared a bed every night, for example. Gwen had jokingly made an offhand comment about her ‘bed and pillow being right here’ when Essie had tried to entice her from the gambler that first night, but she had thought it a joke until the next morning when the pair had come down together, mussed from sleep, and the woman was covered in his scent. And, while not married, as far as she could tell the man didn’t deny either of his children, actually spoiling the daughter lavishly.
 
Yes, he did love Gwen, by now. There had been attraction and affection before, certainly, but this was love in its purest form. She trusted the gunslinger, too- Essie had seen the way Gwen turned into his body, or leaned against his chest, or back, or even in the way she let him shift her on his lap, often causing her to bump against his chest or shoulder, always eliciting a laugh and usually a nip to his ear or jaw in chide. She couldn’t call the woman Galatea, though- and oddly enough, no one expected her to. She had noticed that no one else called her Gwen, though- hadn’t heard even Mister John mutter the name, for he called her ‘darlin’ or ‘Tea’ most of the time. She continued to brush the hair, lovingly, until Galatea stood with a chuckle.
 
“Thank you, Mama.” She pecked the dark cheek with a smile. “Now then, Luke!” She smiled at his gentle stroking of their cat, and had noticed the mare following after him like a dog. She’d seen that once before, with a very different man, and shook her head. What was it with women in this family falling for men who had a soft spot for animals, particularly horses? Still, she chuckled and shifted up to sit on the bench, leaving the swing for Luke and Celeste- and the girl wasted no time in claiming it, cuddling into Luke’s warm side.
 
Galatea sighed slightly, missing her gunslinger already, but she crossed her leg over the other, gracefully. “Wonder what Will is up to?” A cry from inside brought her gaze and Essie’s up, and the two exchanged a mutual look, before Essie got up
 
“I’ll fetch her,” the woman went inside, then, and Galatea’s sharp gaze returned to the young couple.
 
“Oh, come on, Luke.” She chuckled. “You’re so timid around us!” She chuckled. “Believe me, honey, we like ya!” And she winked, a gesture so natural on her it was no cause for concern, before leaning back as Tarquin brushed past her, snagging his belt loop, causing him to look down.
 
“Problem, lassie?”
 
“I heard a rumor that a certain lawman is all-but living at the clinic.” She quirked a sleek brow.
 
“People say all sorts o’ crazy things,” he responded smoothly, shifting back but Tea had a good grip on him- and that SMILE. “Oi! Let go!”
 
“Not a chance, kitty-cat.” She said it smoothly. “I wanted to thank ya.”
 
“Don’t thank me,” he shrugged. “Ye should talk to him.”
 
“I know.” She released him then, as Essie came out with an owl-eyed baby on her hip, looking curiously at the redhead.
 
“You two confuse me sometimes. You’re not together.”
 
“No.” Tea smiled. “I thought very seriously about it, once upon a time, but John caught me first.” And she loved the gunslinger more, admittedly. “Besides, John makes for a more cooperative pillow, most of the time.”
 
“Ye never tried to use me as a pillow,” Tarquin flashed a grin.
 
“He makes a better hot water bottle, too,” she shot back, before laughing over the sheer idiocy of the playful argument. “Oh, Tarr… I’m glad we remained friends, at the very least.” And she chuckled as Annie reached for her. “Oh, come here, precious.”
 
“Ga!” The girl caused her to laugh, kissing the forehead once.
 
And that was the scene which Doc would come home to- Luke and Celeste on the porch, content as could be, Sarah leaning against the rail, Tarquin behind her with his chin resting atop her head, and Galatea playing with the baby while Essie watched over them both.

[Mistress_Unknown]

((Comfrey would be rather prominent in America by now. Comes from Europe and Asia. Arnica would either be one he’s never heard of or very rare since it wasn’t grown in the US yet, I think. Both are topical anti-inflammatory and pain relievers.))

Seems they had found her after all. She watched the approach of one of them with a calm expression. She was fully capable of defending herself, but ladies were not supposed to fight and she had more than once ended up on the short end of her step-father’s temper when she was caught fighting or practicing her fighting. He was looking at her like she was a rabbit caught in trap, even though the woman had lifted her head in a defiant fashion. It was subtle, but she was not going to let this man take advantage of her. Did they think her kick on their leader was an accident? Somewhere in the still rebellious part of her mind, she hoped they did. But her form remained calm and subdued, an outwardly proper lady. Even if her wrist was hurting.

But her approaching stalker had no chance of performing an attack. Instead of looking at her, he seemed to be looking over her and she felt herself prepare for a double attack. Her hands heated up a little but soon fizzled out as the one behind her passed her by without a second glance. He was coming to help her. She released her tension and stood relaxed, head tilted slightly down. Their interactions meant little to her in spoken form, but the fact that this man had stood up for her despite her being a woman (and half Chinese at that), it made her consider him a man of character and honor. Both things she valued above all else. She opened her parasol and tucked it over her shoulder, retaining at least a somewhat lady-like appearance as the boy stuttered and tried to explain himself.

Was this man a lawman? He did not look nor dressed like one. But it was clear that the younger man feared him. A notorious criminal perhaps? No. Criminals rarely had honor, as far as Abigail knew, and this man was practically glowing with honor. Her wounded wrist rested calmly by her side as she observed the conversation, a ghost of a smile washing over her face at the older man’s tone. The knife in his hand also caught her attention, being no stranger to weapons though she had never used one in her life save a bamboo staff when she was in training and much younger.

The younger barked out a ‘sir’ to which her brave savior tried to keep from laughing, that much Abigail could guess from his face. She strode forward a bit to be closer to the situation, a slightly curious expression on her face. This man was interesting. He clearly was respected or feared yet demanded none. So unlike her father, she was instantly interested. It was like she found an interesting book on a shelf much too high for her to reach. She was just observing at the moment, but she wanted to read the book. But her father did not like the fact that she liked to read and she had many an angry night because of it.

The man by her looked at her. She guessed he was looking for any reason to hurt the young man and she averted her eyes with a small smile. She did not want the boy hurt, what would that prove? Violence did not solve misplaced hatred. He seemed to take her expression the way she wanted and sent the boy running with his tail between his legs. Abigail did not spare him a glance, merely returning to being the lady her step-father desired. He asked if she was alright and she gave a small nod. “I am alright. Thank you.” She said quietly, smooth voice barely a musical whisper.

He then mentioned being a doctor and her eyes widened for a moment. A Doctor was feared like that? Surely not. But he said he could see to her wrist and she lifted it for him to see. She did not move the sleeve again but allowed him to do that so he could see the forming bruise slowly appear across her skin. It was sensitive, but she made little movement as he looked at it carefully. She was too busy looking at him. He was handsome, that was clear, and she found him one of the more attractive men who she had come across. But he made no movement to appear interested in her, and she returned the favor. Her movements were as professional as his and she returned her hand to holding her parasol once he was finished looked it over.

She accompanied him inside the building and sat where instructed, waiting for him to begin working on her wrist. She knew what he was going to do. He was going to make a poultice. She watched him with great interest, having enjoyed watching her mother and the other medicine women from her village in China before she was moved. His equipment was more modern than theirs, but the process was still the same, something she found entirely interesting. She also knew the herb he was using. She knew it well.

“Comfrey.” She said quietly and simply before she realized what she was doing. “I have comfrey at my home. I also have Arnica.” She said simply before her body stiffened as she realized what she had said. Her father had more than once given her a stern lecture if she mentioned being an herbalist outside the home. She had also been accused of being a Chinese witch more than once. Her mother had been accused in the same way. Had her father been there, she would have been dragged home almost instantly and she was now worried the man before her would caste her out in much the same way. She looked down and waited for him to decide.

[Doc_Holliday]

It was mid-afteroon by the time he was making his way back home. There were occasionally the days where Galatea seemed to innately understand his need to simply be on his own. There was always someone in every saloon that was able to play poker. Gamblers passing through on the circuit and wanted to get as much game play in as possible, too impatient to wait for night. The atmosphere during the day was much different than at night. It was quiet, easy to concentrate without the blaring distraction of music, loud shouting voices, and fights breaking out. Usually.

The sun was still hot and high overhead and the thick heat had people's patience stretched to a limit. Sudden outbursts of anger were not uncommon. Tensions were running high of late anyway. It didn't help that the Indians that lived deeper within the territory were making more regular appearances, pushing closer and closer to the boundaries of proper civilization. A perfect example of both of this confounding factors was playing out in front of him right now. Two Indian traders were gruffly shoved from an establishment that was too respectable for their kind. Commotion always drew a crowd, but these two particular men did nothing. They turned their backs and headed in the opposite direction. His sharp blue eyes didn't fail to catch sight of his daughter near the front of the crowd that had been abruptly halted by the ruckus.

A man had stopped next to Doc, taking in the scene as well and frequently glancing over to the tall gunman. "'nough to make a man right nervous, wouldn't you say?" He shook his head. "No good, just no good. They're up to somethin'."

Doc turned to take in the man that was speaking to him, giving him a blatantly uninterested stare and seeming to question him as to why on earth he was even speaking to him. He shrank away from the condescending gaze, tipping his hat in apology and taking his leave in reverse. Satisfied that he had left, he went back to casually smoking his cigarette. Amidst the bustle of the Indians being run out of town, no one else seemed to catch the young oriental girl making a mad dash out of the saloon and up an alleyway. Curiosity piqued, he cut around a corner and down an alley himself, knowing exactly where she would most likely end up.

He came upon her again in his usual cavalier fashion across the street, but it seemed neither his guns nor his presence were needed. She had ended up at the clinic, Will luckily being there and muttering enough of a threat to the man that had been pursing her to make him scamper in the other direction. He smiled smugly, nodding to the young man when he caught sight of his father across the street. Will was entirely professional when it came to his career, but as a man himself and more importantly, a Holliday, he picked up on the subtle but undeniable way that Will was already approaching this young lady. He chuckled, bringing his cigarette to his mouth once more.

"An enchanted moment," he said solely to himself, sly grin still in place. Will would mentally berate himself for this, he knew, but interest was not given by choice. But it was clear that there was no threat of further conflict here now, and he continued on his way, finally making it back home to his intended destination.

Once again the entire clan had congregated on the porch, even the faintest traces of a breeze outside being preferred over the stiflingly still air in the house. He had come up just in time to see Galatea's slender finger hooked into his belt loop, and a teasing conversation taking place between the two. He didn't rush, taking his time as he made his way up the walk and steps to the house. He caught Tarquin's gaze though as he passed the man, just as he was separating from Tea. There was no hint of anger in his eyes or tone when he spoke, indicating to Sarah with a smooth movement of his head. "Better keep an eye on that man of yours," he jested. One could never fully tell how serious he was being. With Doc Holliday it was just best to take some wisdom out of everything he said since he rarely spoke when it wasn't something important to him.

Sarah laughed, putting her arms on top of his that wrapped around her from behind . She leaned into him, turning only her head so that she could look up at him through her long eyelashes. "I don't think I have anything to worry about, do I?" Her blue eyes danced as she questioned him. Tarquin and Tea had a relationship that few could compare to. It was undefinable, but what they shared was deep and unbreakable. It had never bothered her and she had never felt threatened by their playful teasing of each other. She would occasionally simply request some extra attention for herself as well.

Doc gave an unconvincing "Hmm," when Sarah spoke, she clearly not minding the interaction between Tea and Tarr so long as it ended with her in his arms. He looked back to Galatea with Annie in her arms and quirked a brow, playing the part of a jealous lover expertly but having none of the genuine concerns to go along with it. Their relationship was such that they knew what the other was feeling without even having to ask. Clearly not upset, he gave her a convincing glare as if demanding she put that baby aside and come to him. While Sarah and Tarr shared a sweet, gentle love, Doc and Galatea had something entirely different when they came together. They could be gentle, but mostly they were hard and passionate, forceful but loving with each other in a way that not everyone could understand.

Luke, meanwhile, grinned sheepishly when Galatea called him out on his introverted behavior whenever he was around them. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn't, so he simply embraced it. He laughed softly, glancing over to Celeste and grateful when the attention again shifted away from him. Celeste's father came home shortly after he had been discussed. His absence was clearly noticed and felt, the dynamic of the conversation changing when he arrived back. Whether it was related or not, Luke couldn't tell, but the doctor had slipped behind the fair, blonde-haired woman when the gunman reappeared, distancing himself from the woman that Holliday claimed for himself.

Celeste wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around her currently, and Luke tried his best to divide his attention equally between the beautiful girl at his side and the rest of the family. This time he caught Doc Holliday glancing over at him and his daughter, understandably, and Luke let the hand he had been playing with the finger's on Celeste's hand simply rest on the side, fingers still laced between Celeste's. He was always so careful when he touched her, not having thought back to his previous hesitancy to touch her with his roughened hands in a long time.

"I saw you two outside of the saloon today," he said, arching a brow and watching the boy's reaction.

"Yes, sir," he said hesitantly, thrown by the comment and mind racing by what he could mean by it. Did he not want his daughter out in public with him? Had he seen the traders and recognized them as being the same blood as Luke? He didn't know which would be worse.

"Might want to be careful around town," he finished, flicking his cigarette to the side now.

"Yes, sir," Luke responded, nodding to emphasize that he meant it. If it was the safety of his daughter that he was concerned about, he did not need to worry.

Doc did indeed have his suspicions about the boy. He certainly wasn't full blood, but he had seen how vastly different one half-blood could look from the other to know that it was very possible, judging by the way he had stared after those two from the saloon and by his dark hair and skin tone. He had the potential to be just that, but he knew of the boy's parents and knew they were both of European descent. This didn't match his suspicions, but he carried them nonetheless. Not that it changed his opinion of him, merely made him curious as to how he got by with his potential secret. The things he would hear and see among the townspeople as an invisible Indian would surely be hard to stomach. A young man like that either had the self-control of a Saint, or was a stick of dynamite sweating in the hot sun, just waiting to go off.

[Galatea]

He caught his father’s gaze briefly, a sly smile crossing his face as he shook his head as if contradicting what his father clearly thought was going on. But his father was without his mother today, and he didn’t say one word, simply returning his attention to the young woman. Among a town of blondes and brunettes, Will did stand out with his unique coloring, so the girl’s curiosity was not unwarranted. Not many women could even boast hair the same shade of scarlet, and certainly not in this town. There were only two- Galatea and her daughter- and Will rounded out the triad with similar coloration, though shot through with his fathers blonde- though his daughter already promised to retain most of his hair color- possibly with more blonde from her mother. His touch was gentle, perhaps more so than it would be usually, but damn him if there wasn’t something about women that tugged at a man. Her voice was soft, musical, with that faint nasal undertone that told of her parentage, but it was a pleasing sound nonetheless, and he smiled faintly as he took her proffered wrist gently, easing the restricting material up with extreme carefulness, unwilling to hurt her more than she had been.

The bruise would be dark by nightfall- already the red was giving way to the livid purple- and he shook his head. From the size of the marks, Johnny Fuller really hadn’t done it, but he had a suspicion as to who might have, and shook his head before ushering her inside. He didn’t bother sending her into the examination room- didn’t need it right now, and she looked skittish enough. Like a fox, he thought. Skittish but brave when facing down an unknown.

“Please, have a seat.” His voice was low and soft, unlike most of the men in this town. Most men were still respectful of a woman, though- only a few were not, and he made a mental note to figure out who it had been later. Names right now were not relevant. “This won’t take very long.” He did smile reassuringly now, the smile transforming his face. He had more of his mothers smile when it was genuine than his fathers, and it chased away some of the shadows in his eyes. As he was gathering what he needed, his voice was soft, almost distracted. “I hope that taught you that a pretty woman like you shouldn’t wander around town by your lonesome.” Her next words surprised him, and his gaze shifted back to her as her soft voice spoke.

“Yes. That’s right.” One brow rose questioningly. There was no denying that Chinese medicine was beneficial in most cases- laudanum was, after all, still widely in use- and based on her coloring and the exotic slant to her eyes, he could tell that the woman was half-Chinese, even under the mask of makeup. “Arnica?” He made a mental note of that. He’d never even heard of the herb, but Tarquin may have. The older doctor spent more time with the Chinese workers who drifted through town in search of work, mainly because Will had in actuality only been back home for a little over a month. He was already working the herb with a mortar and pedestal when he shifted, pulling up a second chair near the young woman. She had just done the impossible- she had his undivided attention.

She knew something he didn’t.

He still worked the mix, though, adding water slowly. “I’ve never heard of Arnica. What effects does it have?” His gaze was curious. “I’m Will, by the way. Will Holliday.” He chuckled softly. “In my earlier haste, I forgot to introduce myself.”

---

There was no denying she was happy when he came home. She was never unhappy, persay, but she did brighten when she caught sight of him heading up the walk, and her smile of greeting never failed to convey this. She may have been teasing with Tarquin, but her gaze was half-predatory as it fixed on the tall man. He was still as handsome as ever, and had that smooth gait which had attracted her as a young woman. Still, she had to finish teasing with the Irishman, who quickly went to Sarah, unwilling to stay so close to Galatea when Doc was armed. She shook her head with a slight laugh.

“Ye have nothing to worry about,” Tarquin chuckled, kissing Sarah’s forehead and holding her that extra bit tighter. “We haven’t even been that close since….”

“I found this DARLING body pillow,” Tea chuckled, meeting the glare with a raised brow as she put the baby into Celeste’s arms as she rose, crossing to wind herself around him, pulling him down for a demanding kiss, hard and fast, without any hint of tenderness- unless one looked at the pair, really looked at them. They were far from being rough with one another, but she was a demanding thing at times, and being left by her lonesome (never mind that there was always someone about) usually brought this side out. She let the kiss turn warm, then, welcoming him home before drawing away with a sigh, resting her cheek against his shoulder. She wouldn’t ask, and he wouldn’t tell, but he was hers again. He needed time alone, something she could respect. She kept her grip on her gunslinger, clearly very pleased to have her favorite person back. She waited for him to sit before arranging herself in his lap.

“My parents are strange,” Celeste shook her head. They weren’t always like that, and the demanding look and kiss had been mainly for show. She frowned when her father’s gaze shifted to them, giving him a defiant lift of her chin that echoed her mother at her age. Then she winked, though- her father was still the one man she loved above all else- and tightened her grip on Luke’s hand. She could feel the tension there, and wanted to calm him. Her father’s gaze was not angry, though she could see there was suspicion there- she was his DAUGHTER after all. She almost said something, but her father beat her to it.

“That was my fault, Daddy,” she said it swiftly, assuming that it was the proximity to the saloon that was the issue. “I wasn’t thinking, and I dragged poor Luke along with me.” And she had been most likely caught by her father sympathizing with the traders, as well as stealing a glimpse inside the saloon. It wasn’t the one she had gone into to try to drag her father home- this one was fancier. But she could hardly help her curiosity! She wanted to see what drew her parents so.

“Celeste, really!” Galatea shook her head.

“Sorry, Mama.” She ducked her head slightly. The older woman sighed, before leaning her head back onto the warm shoulder of the gunman.

“What am I goin’ to do with ya?” She sighed. “I’d blame your father, but ya got that from me. No one would listen.” She said this mostly to herself while Luke responded, and lightly stroked a hand along the upper back of the man who she was using as a chair, both to just touch and let him know she took some slight pride in how well he was handling the situation at hand.

“Daddy, we’ll be careful. And nobody messes with me anyway- not with you, Luke, Will and Uncle Walker to scare them straight.” The girl was confident. That, and Galatea had taught her daughter how to properly use a knife to defend herself while her father remained blissfully unaware of those unladylike lessons. Besides, Luke looked out for her while she was with him, and she felt safe with Luke.

“Still, Celestine, that doesn’t mean ya shouldn’t be cautious.” Her mother narrowed that green gaze on her, now. She stopped, then, shaking her head. “Well, come on. I’m sure there’s something new going on in town. Tarr? Doc? One of you must have SOME information.” Her grin was cheeky, and she changed the subject with a wink sent to her daughter and Luke.

[Doc_Holliday]

She appreciated his extra little squeeze of reassurance which she signified by returning it. Doc seemed mildly pacified, but she met his gaze and raised her eyebrows, shaking her head quickly. "See?" Doc and Tea reunited with typical passion, and Essie blushed, casting her gaze downwards. Sarah also looked away and turned around so that she faced her man, doing her best to temporarily block out the rest of the group of people surrounding her. Her fingers played with the collar of his shirt teasingly, and she would occasionally graze against his skin with her always perfectly manicured fingernails.

"How was the clinic today, my love?" She kissed his chest. She enjoyed hearing about his work which he was so passionate about, but missed him when he was away. Occasionally she was needed around for help, but when she wasn't, she didn't mind staying out his way so that he could work easily and efficiently.

Doc let Galatea pull him down onto the bench where she had been sitting, his lap taking its place for her now. He had gotten what he wanted, the baby being placed carefully in Celeste's waiting arms so that the pair could wrap themselves around each other once again. They shared another deep kiss before she took to just resting against his shoulder, him toying with her newly brushed hair and not expecting her to find any objections to that.

Sarah was meanwhile oblivious to the rest of the family, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against her man's sturdy chest. He was tall and muscular, but not burly. He was perfect for her to fit right up against and be able to wrap her arms around. She inhaled his scent deeply, his steady heartbeat having its usual calming effect on her. She could never figure out if that was healer in him, or if it was just because of the sheer fact that she was so content when she was with him. Unlike her brother and best friend who would happily and proudly display their affection for each other in public, she preferred to be more private in her displays. She smiled up at him when she finally reopened her gray-blue eyes, and took a few steps away. She was not sensual like Galatea, but like any woman, she had the ability to turn on that come-hither gaze, her version being a much more subtle, demure one. No one but him would see the careful gaze that nearly pleaded him to follow her, but she turned and walked towards the open door of the house they were trying to cool down.

"I'm going to check on what we have to eat," she said in general, though she doubted whether Doc and Tea even heard her. "Tarquin, would you care to help me?" She disappeared inside and into the parlor room off to the side. She waited only momentarily for him to appear behind her. His movements were swift and deliberate, but unhurried and always graceful. She laughed, letting him take her back up in his arms and sighing deeply when he kissed her, arms hooked around his neck for support as she pushed herself up ever so slightly to better reach him. Her hands traveled up the back of his neck and her nimble fingers threaded themselves into his strawberry blonde hair. She lovingly massaged his head, loving the feeling of his hair in-between her fingers. She pulled away reluctantly only when both could use some air.

"I'm not really that hungry anyway," she murmured, fingers now tracing light circles over his shoulder blades. She couldn't imagine being away from him. Even though Celeste was young, Sarah could tell that her feelings for Luke were real and already ran deep. Him being away was already hard on the girl, and she felt badly for her in that sense.

She was thrilled to soon officially have the title of Wife to Tarquin. The high esteem he held in the community was nice but she would love him if he was dirt poor and a nobody. She had never loved someone so deeply to be willing to throw away everything for them, and she understand why when it came down to it, Galatea had done just that for her man. Her mouth found is once more, briefly, then moved to this jawline, his neck, and finally his chest. "I cannot wait to be your wife," she breathed, smiling up at him again with her big, blinking blue eyes. She prayed they would never have to experience the hardship that was so common to people around them, and she felt almost guilty for how happy and perfect she felt her life to be.

"Tell me you love me," she said, simply loving hearing those words spill from his lips in his musical accent. And she touched her nose to his, then, rubbing it in feline fashion that was all too familiar to him.

-

There was a baby in Celeste's arm's now, but he didn't mind, smiling down at the young girl but afraid to touch her. His hands were always dirty from something, and if he was afraid of breaking Celeste he certainly would not be handling a toddler. Especially since she was Celeste's brother's daughter, a man who seemed amiable enough but Luke still could not tell if he was truly approving of him or not. He shook his head and laughed when she spoke, a comment about her parents' behavior always managing to make it into their conversation.

They weren't strange, but their openness was something that took some getting used to. His family was affectionate with one another, but he rarely witnessed romantic encounters between his parents. He squeezed her hand though when she took the "blame" for being near the saloon. Her father was impossible to read based on his body language or facial expressions, but Luke supposed that was why he was so good at what he did for a living. Something told him that their presence on the sidewalk outside of the saloon was not what had prompted his comments. He had to know there was no other place to walk, and if there was going to be commotion, it would certainly be traced back to a saloon somewhere.

"Celeste," he spoke under his breath, not wanting her to take unnecessary blame and get in trouble. He didn't seem to be of the punishing sort, though, so his worries were most likely unjustified. Doc looked at his daughter thoughtfully, recognizing his own gaze in the one that she gave him now.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I was concerned about the influence you might have on Celeste, but it would appear I need to be worried for the influence she might have on you," he drawled sarcastically, never in the dark about a particular subject that he was invested in.

Luke didn't know how to respond, unable to laugh or contradict the man. He gave an odd gesture that was a mix of a nod and shake of his head, but gave Celeste a squeeze with his hand to confirm that he certainly would not ever allow anything bad to happen to her. He once again had Galatea to thank for changing the subject.

Doc shrugged, looking positively content with Tea nestled in against his chest. He grinned down at her, though, a glint in his eye. "Your thirst for gossip is insatiable, darlin'." He would mention nothing of what he had seen happen with Will, that being his own personal business that he would share if he chose to. The big news of probably the week would be the unwelcome presence of the Indian traders within their town limits. Different groups and pairs had been appearing at first every few months, and it was progressing to every few weeks now. They always came looking the same, dressed in a strange mix of white and Indian clothing, a cloth or kerchief frequently being worn around their heads. They were a startling sight at times, looking militant and dangerous, especially since they possessed modern rifles after long periods of trading with settlers. Being hostile to them was not a good idea even though they most likely outnumbered the members of this particular "problem tribe". They knew these lands far better than anyone else, and a person always fought harder to defend a land than to conquer one.

He directed his interrogative gaze back over the young couple as if asking if they had anything they would like to share. Of course Luke would not feel it was his place to say anything, and Doc continued to push him just for the sake of doing so. Sarah came out pf the house then, looking blissful, with Tarquin close behind. They resumed their position leaning against the rail, Sarah wrapped up in his arms. Doc didn't direct the statement at the boy, instead bringing it up to Galatea since she was hungering for some gossip.

"No doubt you saw the disturbance outside of the saloon. People are getting nervous." He paused, Sarah's interest suddenly drawn.

"I didn't hear about that?" She said it as a question, clearly wanting more information on the matter.

He nodded, barely expanding on the information he had already provided. "Some Indian traders were forcibly removed from the First Chance Saloon. Arapaho, maybe. Or the Apache have been active." He said, purposely getting the information wrong and glancing over to Luke for any response. The boy looked like he was biting his tongue, but said nothing. Nonchalantly directing his question at Luke to appear as though he was merely being polite and including him in the conversation, he continued. "Do you have any insight into this, Luke?" He sounded entirely unsuspecting.

Surprisingly, Luke appeared more calm and collected than he had previously. He did not want to lie, but he was afraid for them to know. "They were Cheyenne," he responded softly and with a lowered gaze. "I have seen them on many occasions."

"I'm afraid people do have cause to be nervous," Sarah said sadly. She certainly sympathized with the natives, but feared for the safety of both parties involved. Luke's dark gaze flickered to her understandingly, his potential role in whatever played out a heavy burden on him. He remained silent on the matter, though. He was used to being present during these fanciful conversations of ghastly rumors of the Cheyenne, but now he felt like he had a whole lot more to lose if his secret was revealed. He again squeezed Celeste's hand, only able to offer her a half-hearted smile.

[Mistress_Unknown]

He was focused. Yet she found herself looking down and blushing at his comment of her being pretty. She bit her lip slightly but could not resist retaliation at his comment. “But if I did not, I would not have been saved by a handsome gentleman.” She said quietly, barely above a whisper before she stiffened again. This was different. She never acted this way around other men-though in her defense her step-father hardly ever allowed her to be alone with another man. Unless it was a client to her Tarot cards (which she had neglected to grab...) or her fortune telling.

But the moment was short lived as she showed her knowledge. Her eyes snapped up to his as she searched his eyes for any form of anger or hatred. She was showing more of her true self to this one man then she had in months. She did not know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, as she awaited his reaction. Her eyes searched his and she very quickly found herself wishing he would react already.

But his immediate reaction was very different from the one she was expecting. Instead of accusing her of witch craft and moving to throw her out, he instead looked at her with a gaze of curiosity and undivided attention. This was not something she had been expecting and was almost instantly self-conscious. She fiddled with the ruffle of her skirt as she tried to force her brain to work, but she was unable to look away from him. So instead her face turned redder than it should have and she opened and closed her mouth like a fish. She must have made an interesting picture, she though later, and so much for a great first impression.

He was clearly waiting for an answer and her lack of reaction was beginning to frustrate her. He moved to sit next to her, the mortar and pestle still in use as he added water. But her quick eyes darted to his water measurement and out of reflex she gripped his hand, stopping the pouring. “Stop. You will add too much and dilute the effect.” She said softly before she realized what she had done. Her expression was clear she would have kicked herself if she could and she sighed. Her hand returned to her lap, after releasing his wrist and she folded them calmly in her lap.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to make eye contact with him again, putting on the best recovery face she could. Had her father been there, she would not have even spoken. But something about this man made her comfortable. She wanted to speak with him. She wanted to share her knowledge with him. And, giving in to that small comfort, she allowed her face to soften into a more emotional state instead of the aloof female she was taught to be.

“Arnica is an herb from the Eurasia. It grows in the snowy lands.” She said quietly. “It is a yellow flower, but the leaves, roots and stems are what are used.” She explained before continuing. “I first used it while living in London. My grandmother and I grew it along with other herbs.” She admitted, feeling more and more comfortable with this man as time went on. “It has the same effects as comfrey, but unlike comfrey, arnica can be digested in small amounts to reduce stomach pain.” She said, pride showing through her voice. “However, in large amounts it is toxic. So it is given in very small amounts or diluted to nearly 24% of its original strength.” She explained, her voice quiet but clearly passionate. “Comfrey is a better option in children and sensitive skin, but arnica acts faster.” She said, finishing her explanation. “I have a book at home that I learned from.”

Her eyes were glittering with the chance to share what she knew. She was excited, the first time in what felt like a long time. He had cracked a bit of her formal and outward shell, and now he was seeing fragments of the person inside. She was smart, very smart, and passionate about what she knew. If nothing else, passion drove her. And though she was a perfect lady on the outside, inside she was a burning fire ball waiting to burst forth and fly. He seemed interested enough-and interesting-so she found herself allowing the shell to break ever-so-slightly. She hoped she was not taking her trust in him too far and that soon she was just going to get thrown out.

He introduced himself and she smiled softly. He had a lovely name, but she kept that to himself. She let off a small laugh when he mentioned his haste and she nodded. “I forgot as well.” She admitted. “And for saving me, you deserve at least a name, Will Holliday.” She teased ever so slightly. She admitted that she would most likely have to return home and would not see Will again for some time, but she liked his company. Perhaps she would find more reasons to visit this handsome and curious young doctor.

“I am called Abigail.” She said quietly. She always introduced herself that; since Abigail was the name she was given. Her real name, according to her step-father, was not acceptable in a civilized society. But she loved her real name so much more. Would he catch the hesitation that meant Abigail was only a given name? She did not know which she hoped for more: to tell him her real name and hear it pronounced in his attractive voice or for him to not push. She was still indecisive. And probably would be for a while.

[Galatea]

((Wheeeee. So, Luke is going to be paid $3.25 a week, which just goes to show it‘s not pity work. He‘d pay more but he doesn‘t want to offend the boy. It will increase when he hires him for the more physical stuff, because he can then justify it without sounding like an idiot.))
 
Galatea caught that come hither look her friend sent the tall healer, and chuckled softly. While they had been essentially raised the same, Galatea had always been a sensual creature, and the West had, as Doc had once said, made a monster out of her in that respect. It had changed them both, and instead of the strict rules they had once adhered to, they were not hesitant to display any affection to one another, especially on their own property. Their kisses were no longer restricted to dark corners and closed doors- though that had been nice when they were both younger. However, Tarquin and Sarah still did adhere to those Southern rules of propriety, and it was always endearing to watch. Essie’s blushing did not go unnoticed, and she chuckled again, one hand absently rubbing at the center of Doc’s chest, lightly, as though trying to soothe him.
 
She didn’t try to push his hand out of her hair, either, which was surprising. Be it the heat or the fact that she was just content to have him back, she uttered not one word of protest. But then, Essie had noticed they went through phases where they were like fire and kerosene- all passion and heat- before they both melted into one another, bodies fit together as though they had been designed for one another. She had noticed that Galatea being in his lap was more than just her catering to him- she was a large part of his conscience as well, serving as a calming device when tempers began to run short, or similarly egging him on when someone actually deserved it. But he had clearly reined the slightly-more wild Galatea in as well. She was never more comfortable and relaxed than she was when he was around- and she had known the woman all her life- raised her, even.
 
“Problem, Mama?” She asked it with that innocent little tone she could only occasionally manage.
 
“No.” The woman glanced at them now. “I’m just not accustomed to affection being so openly displayed.” She shook her head. “But you two never kept a proper distance, anyway. Even when you first met, when you were still too young to technically follow him.”
 
“I knew what I wanted is all,” she shook her head, despite it being against his shoulder. “Handsome, charming- even my father approved of my eye wandering to this one.” Though now would have a fit if he saw them together, she thought with a mental chuckle as she lightly traced a finger along Doc‘s jaw line, including him in her words. Her father had tried to bring her back into the fold once, years ago, but she hadn’t even responded to the letter, too angry to even contemplate it. There were times she regretted it, now, but she would not change anything.
 
When Sarah spoke, her gaze flitted to the Irishman as well, and he smiled slightly. “Quiet today, except for Luke, and the Cramer’s stopped in with the twins.”
 
“That’s right! Poor Rachel- that woman must have the patience of a saint to deal with both of them.” She sighed. “Celeste and Will were enough all by themselves.” Though Celestine had been more headstrong, she thought fondly. She was her mother’s daughter, through and through.
“
Aye. They both have colic.”
 
“Both?” She sighed. “I’m glad we only managed the two, then.” That was still a slightly sore spot for her, but she cheerfully snuggled closer to her man and let his scent and the gentle combing of his fingers through her hair soothe her. Her sharp gaze was on the couple at the railing, enjoying the show for the moment. Tarquin had accepted the shift in Sarah’s position, his hands going to her waist, and he was about ready to start purring based on his half-slitted eyes. Sarah was toying with his collar, and occasionally her fingers would encounter skin, something the healer LOVED. If Luke hadn’t been here, he would have probably already been making that feline sound of contentment, but he was always cautious with strangers, and liked to introduce people very, very slowly to that side of him. Still, he was content, and when Sarah moved away every fiber of his being all but screamed one word- WHY?
 
He noted the look, though, and gave her a slightly befuddled expression, not quite as sharp on the uptake as he would normally be from her teasing touches, but once he caught his name, and her going into the house, he realized he should probably follow her. Right? Yes, yes, he would follow her. His gait was smooth but slightly predatory, like a cat scenting something exciting and wanting to hurry, yet remaining aloof enough to show that it was not in any hurry. Galatea couldn’t refrain from commenting.
“Have fun, kitten.” He didn’t seem to hear her, though.
 
 
---
 
He followed after her, relying more on instinct and scent to guide him than any of his more ‘refined’ senses. He could be predatory and half-feral at times, and nothing brought this side out more than the sight of Sarah Holliday giving him that ‘come hither’ stare and taking her leave. This was for two reasons, he knew. One, he knew logically that she did not feel comfortable with public affection, having grown up in a world where anything more than a gentle kiss on the hand, or a chaste kiss was deemed taboo. And, two, he knew her every little movement, and knew she wanted exactly what he did. He paused in the hall, once. Would she veer right towards the parlor, or left towards the den?
 
Right, he decided. The den was normally only used by the men of the family on account of the billiards table, while the parlor was lavishly decorated and decidedly more feminine in décor. Sure enough, she was where he’d thought she would be, and he crossed to her with that grin he knew never failed to make her melt, wrapping her in his arms, securing her with one hand at the small of her back, the other cradling her neck as he dipped his head to capture her lips with his. He couldn’t believe he had ever questioned the human ritual of kissing whenever he kissed his fiancée. He knew now exactly why Gwen had often sought out young John Henry. It was pleasant and sent a thrill down his spine. He was always gentle with her, though, and when she finally pulled away he stayed close, nuzzling into the sweet curve of her cheek. He was purring by this point, mainly due to her gentle massaging of his scalp.
 
She was the only person who could draw out his purr this way, the only person who he would gladly die for on the planet. When she spoke, he stopped nuzzling her so she could see the seriousness in his eyes. “And I cannot wait to call ye my wife.” He nearly whispered it. He would gladly stand in front of her brother, God, the whole town and say those words. “I love ye. Perhaps more than I should, at times.” He chuckled as she nudged her nose to his, completing it in feline fashion, before capturing her lips with his again.
 
---
 
The baby would have none of Luke’s standoffishness. She was an exceptionally happy baby, laughing often enough- those wonderful little baby laughs that made every female within ten paces stop and coo over the precious sound. He was unfamiliar, but the baby was starting to recognize him, as babies did, and associate him with her aunt. She made a grab for his hand, while Celeste tried to tug her back, before huffing. “You can touch her, Luke. She’ll just fuss until you pay her some attention.”
 
“Her father’s made a terror out of her,” Galatea agreed. Will spoiled her shamelessly, still harboring deep guilt over Allison’s death, robbing the child of her mother. She did not catch the squeeze of her daughter’s hand, nor the young man speaking the name, or she might have made a comment on it. Instead, she shot a knowing smile towards Sarah and Tarquin as they reappeared. She did, however, catch the odd movement in response to Doc’s mild tease, and chuckled, winking as if assuring the boy that he was joking… well, for the most part. Surely he knew the wild, flightiness which she had would be revealed in their daughter at some point. Even Will had inherited some of this wild nature. “Makes me glad I had help with my two. Never had to discipline either one.”
 
“Daddy just had to look at us like he was even a little disappointed and we went straight again,” Celestine shook her head with a laugh.
 
“Oh, I seem to recall him having to swat your brother once or twice for backsassin’ when he was about ten.” Will had not taken to having a younger sibling very well, not until Celeste had been born. Then whatever protective instincts that ran in the Holliday men regarding family, specifically woman, took over. Boys? Well, they could be left out in the rain. They were rough and tumble. Girls, on the other hand, were protected and sheltered and loved- which was probably why Doc kept his watch over his daughter.
 
“Really?” Their daughter blinked. “WILL was backsassing YOU, Mama?”
 
“And your Daddy. But he ignored it for the most part.” She tilted her head to study him, amusement in the tilt of her lips before she nuzzled at his jaw, ending with a kiss to that spot where his jaw met his neck. The conversation turned serious then, and she sighed. “Of course I saw that disgusting display.”
 
“What display?” Essie glanced over, curious.
 
“Two traders who hadn’t done a thing wrong were the victims of the hour.” She sighed. Celeste’s own eyes were matching hers at the mention of the mistreatment. At Doc’s choice of words, she shook her head as if contradicting him. “Forcibly removed. Sounds better than thrown out unnecessarily.” She’d gone rigid now in his lap, disentangling her hair from his hands as her eyes flashed. She didn’t tolerate these types of behaviors at all, and while she knew her man was not like them, that he could stand by and use words like ‘forcibly removed’ and make it sound halfway decent bothered her, slightly. When his gaze shifted to Luke, she whipped her gaze to his, incredulous. Not only was Luke normally timid when the gunman spoke to him, he was just plain quiet generally. That, and she was already fond of the boy, favoring a potential match between him and their daughter highly, despite her suspicions that the boy was half Cheyenne.
 
Her gaze turned sympathetically back on Luke, then, as if to apologize for the direct questioning, but Luke responded with calmness and a relaxed vibe- though she could see Celestine was stroking his arm, much as she might, probably to comfort or soothe. Once Sarah spoke, she let out an unladylike snort.
 
“People have more reason to fear me most of the time. If they were set on takin’ heads, you’d know it.” She shrugged. “Never could understand why people would throw out paying customers when there was coin to be had. Liza and I always had a laugh about that- she said that was why I made my fortune.”
 
“Liza adored ye,” Tarquin chuckled. “You two had quite the racket going, most of the time.”
 
“Most of my clients had never seen anything like Liza. She was the prettiest little thing- all dark hair and eyes, and those gorgeous high cheekbones. Made me envious, at times.”
 
“She was a sweet thing.” Tarquin agreed. “I’m glad she found ye- ye didn’t give a damn that she was half-Cherokee.”
 
“Tarquin, kitten, I was practically raised by Essie, here. Do ya really think her bein’ half Cherokee even registered as one of her important qualities?”
 
“Nay.” He chuckled. “She’s right, ye know. If there were hostile intentions, deliberate, they would nae make a secret of it.”
 
“Exactly.” Tea smiled. “Besides, I’m sure there’s more gossip. I heard a new family moved into town not long ago. Anyone get a look at them, yet?”
 
---
 
Will couldn’t keep the smile from his face when she teased gently with him. Allison would have quietly blushed, ducking her head, and said nothing in retaliation. This woman retaliated as his mother might, and he laughed softly. “I don’t know about that, ma’am. My father was heading in this general direction, ready to assist if I hadn’t happened along.” His father, too, did not handle the mistreatment of women very well, but Will secretly thought that this was related to the fact that Galatea had been given some hard knocks by men- not that Doc would have misused a woman, anyway. Of course, she had probably been too wrapped up in the situation to have noticed the handsome gunman across the street- he had come out of a different alley after all- or she perhaps would have understood a lot more about his family dynamic, and why he was so feared.
 
He was curious about her, now. She was clearly intelligent- it sparkled around her. And she was pretty- that thought had come out of nowhere, and while he couldn’t deny that she was indeed attractive, he was not interested in romance. But he could always use a friend, and she was charming. Even if she was clearly hesitant and nervous about him, for some reason. And he’d be damned if he hadn’t managed to confuse her enough to render her speechless. What, was she expecting him to throw her into the street, yelling something about her heritage? If so, she couldn’t be more wrong.
 
When her slim hand caught his wrist, he had to catch himself from taking that same hand in his, bringing it to his lips. Allie had done that to stop him, often, and he would respond with a laugh and bring those slender fingers to his lips in a gesture that was so like his father. But he did laugh- she was right, and she’d gotten him distracted enough to nearly slip up. He stopped working the paste immediately, spooning it onto a clean bandage. “Good catch, there.” He chuckled softly. “I got a bit distracted.” He gently put the poultice over her wrist, listening to her speak. She did have a pleasant, musical tone- the cultured British and the musical tonality of the Orient colored her words- which made listening to her no difficult task. If there was one thing he was serious about it was medicine, and he took in every word, filing it away. “You grow it?” His brow quirked. “Handy thing to have about, I’m sure.”
 
He gently patted her hand as he rose. “I’d say you’re lucky you stumbled across me when you did, but I’m beginning to think it’s the other way around. You’re a real treasure, aren’t you?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. You must think me a bit off.”
 
Her name was pretty, though- even if she was hesitant to use it. She gave it full, though, and he chuckled at her obvious distaste. “Well, Abigail, if you want to be technical, my given name is Wilson Jonathan Holliday. Wilson for my uncle, Jonathan for my father and uncle both.” He chuckled. “It’s such a mouthful though- most everybody calls me Will- except for my parents when they’re cross with me.” His mother especially did this- his father usually just casually glared at him, silently.
 
“Anyway… haven’t seen you around town yet- you must be new to the area. I’m sure you’ll meet my mother soon enough, but if you happen to see a tall redhead with eyes like mine don’t be alarmed if she starts talking a mile a minute, and tries to entice you into telling her your life’s story. She makes it her personal business to make newcomers feel welcome.” She did, too.
 
“I… do hope I’m not imposing…” he began, softly. “But, we could use some help about the clinic from time to time. Making compresses and poultices, and my mother and aunt are capable, but it would be helpful to have a real healer to help us when things get hectic.” He smiled. “Besides that, maybe you can teach me more.”
 
Okay, so he liked her. Didn’t mean he was going to fall for her. Besides, he had a child, something that would come out eventually, making courtship impossible. No woman wanted to raise another woman’s child, even if the other woman was dead.

[Doc_Holliday]

His chuckle from beneath her was so subtle that it barely moved the woman seated on top of him at all. He remembered back to the very first few days and weeks they had known each other, Essie also still vividly remembered that since the beginning they had not exactly played by the rules set in place by generations before them. He had never been able to fully fit into that role that was expected of him. Try as he might, he couldn't get Sarah to loosen up either. She fell prey to society's standards of silent obedience and perfection. Since leaving that structured world she had come out of her rigid ways quite a bit, but still retained that elegant charm of a way of life that existed only within individuals now. It seemed to suit her though, and it ended up working well for her in the end. Tarquin was a man that matched her in charm and elegance. They were quite a respectable and clearly devoted couple.

"And it never bothered you before, Essie." But his attention was on Galatea now, and her silently disapproving stare. His intentional lack of tact in sensitive situations was what earned him many enemies. One might even suspect that he got a kick out of it. But she had removed his fingers from her hair now, and without something to do, he swiftly lit another match and brought it to a new cigarette. Unlike Tea he did not offer a look of apology to the boy. Not only did he never apologize, but he found it perfectly acceptable to test a young man to see how he handled different situations. Luke wasn't a very good liar, but he was an apparent master of evasion. It was hard to pick up on his cues anyway, his act being in place since he was a young boy and being very natural at this point. He hadn't lied, either, simply answering Doc's question with a matter of fact tone that was plausible knowledge for someone who had grown up out where he had and had more encounters with various Indian tribes. He looked away then, taking some pressure off of the boy, but looked out at his paint mare nearby with a new appreciation for how well this boy had the townspeople fooled. He had gotten by by ingeniously understanding the schema that people here expected. Indians didn't simply live out in the open among them. This expectation blinded them to the truth that in fact, in Luke's case, they did.

Luke didn't respond to Celeste's mother, but smiled gently at her comments. While he listened, he reluctantly obliged the little girl's request for attention by offering a hand for her to latch onto and play with. He was unaware of the heavy suspicion that he was under, but still remained silent on the matter out of habit. The Cheyenne were horribly mistreated in so many ways and were a more peaceful tribe than the nearby Comanche or Sioux, yet in their desperation they had been forced to defend their territory. Luke knew that the townspeople were worried about Indian attacks, even though the blame for those was not on the Cheyenne, and yet they were continuously cruel and uninviting when they came without dishonest or deadly intentions. Every time he saw it he had to make an active decision on what to do. Either way, he was always on the losing side. What they realistically should fear were people like him. People with allegiances to both or no side at all. There were many tales of gangs of half-Indian, half white young men who were angry, confused, and much more violent than their full-blooded brothers. They were rejected, for the most part, by both bloodlines and so had no choice but to find others like them. In isolated cases, however, they had managed to form small armies of Indians and retaliate on the settlers in the area. These were the horror stories that spread far and wide about the plains Indians that were creeping closer and closer to town, and why people were so hesitant whenever they saw them. Tribal association didn't matter, apparently they were all violent and dangerous.

"Half Cherokee?" He voiced without meaning to, his attention snapping back and a spark returning to his eyes when Galatea mentioned a former acquaintance that shared his predicament. The part that he was particularly interested in was that she didn't seem to care one lick about the girl's mixed blood. It slowly dawned on him that this meant that she recognized the signs of being even half native, her even listing several of them for everyone else to contemplate. Celeste's gentle strokes on his arm did admittedly calm him, and he gave her a smile of acknowledgement for this. His dark gaze flickered to Cleo behind her who looked rather bored tethered out there. "I should stable her," he said first to himself but then looking directly at Celeste to verify that he was going to do just that.

He stood up, helping the girl seated next to him to her feet and excusing himself temporarily from the group. His smooth, airy steps carried him down the few stairs with Celeste in tow. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he was out of the gate and had untied Cleo, holding the reins only to keep them from dragging on the ground and leading her to where she could drink and at least move around a bit. He left the man the appropriate sum of money for a stall and some feed, and then turned to head back to her home. He was in no rush though, holding Celeste's hand but hesitant to show her anymore affection beyond that after being reminded of his precarious place in society. He wanted to tell her, he did, but it had been pounded into him ever since his mother left and his father remarried to never speak of "that side of him". He knew his father only wanted to protect him, and it had nothing to do with shame for his son.

Doc watched them leave and grunted thoughtfully, shrugging his shoulders. Galatea didn't want to linger, the topic of the Indian traders clearly getting on her nerves. This nearly made him smile, but instead he followed her lead, changing the subject on the newest faces in town. "I saw the girl, earlier. From The Orient," he offered. "It didn't appear she was off to an inviting beginning here either, but she ran into a friendly face." The way he said it left far too much for the imagination, but knowing him, they could at least be assured that he had not left her in any danger. "I have a feeling you'll see her around more often." His look was smug, as usual, but that was really all he had to offer on the matter. Soon enough, Tea herself would no doubt know the girl's life story, even if she and Will did part ways and never saw each other again. This was also doubtful.

(Few things. Awkward ending, awkward in general, yay. Ran out of time for Sarah/Tarr but I'll get to them next post. They're just hanging out and chatting with everyone else. Also, sorry to leave the ball in Celeste's court there but girl's gonna have to take some initiative!)

[Galatea]

((About time Celeste gets to be a little forward! Oops, gambling references. So sue me. Also, there! We can assume Tarquin is familiar with the Cheyenne. Possible way for Celeste to find out ‘accidentally’ so they can spat- Tarr can drop off supplies, possibly, and bring Luke along since Luke’s the one driving.))
 
When the man laughed, Essie’s sharp gaze swung to him. “It most certainly did bother me, Mister Holliday.” She sniffed. “You were the only one who came sniffing around my girl.”
 
“Nay, others sniffed at her- he was the only one who had her sniffing back.”
 
“Because I let her. If I hadn’t liked him, I’d never have allowed him to sniff at her in the first place.”
 
“Need I remind you again, Mama, both the young man and young lady who did the sniffing are right here?” She asked coolly, before the façade crumbled and she leaned over to peck Essie on the cheek lovingly. “Besides, weren’t you the one insisting I needed a man with a temper to match mine?” She teased. He had a temper, certainly- and she liked it. He was distant and passionate by turns, and right now was one of those rare in-between times where he certainly wanted her with him, and made this known through body language (the way he stroked her hair, the way he passively allowed her to curl into him) but he was not full of fire, trying to entice her to follow him upstairs.
 
“I’d say you got what you needed.” Essie shook her head. They were a pair, she knew. A perfect two of a kind, both suited to one another. He could rein in his headstrong woman without ever physically harming one hair on her head, all in a firm but never rough manner. She, in turn, was more than his conscience- she drew him out of his quiet shell at times, but also let him see through her actions just how much she did love him- even if they would swear up and down that this arrangement was strictly business, Essie knew better. If this were strictly business, the pair would have self-destructed years ago. But there was love there instead, and that made all the difference. They didn’t shout this kind of love from the rooftops, but it was that quiet kind that she had always suspected Gwen capable of.
 
The sharp gaze of Gwen Sullivan- Galatea Shaw, as it was now- was on the boy, though, watching him carefully. She had a look of cautious understanding in their depths, but only if one knew what to look for, which Luke didn’t. She looked none-too-comfortable, sitting upright and away from the lean gunman’s chest, but she wasn’t leaning back yet, either. He hadn’t tried to pull her back to his body, and was casually smoking a cigarette. When Luke questioned her, she laughed though.
 
“Yes, half Cherokee.” She smiled. “Left me a rich woman in her own right. Last I heard she was married with two daughters, but Lottie usually writes every couple months, so Lord knows if there isn’t another.” She shrugged. “She was always the practical one. She said it came from havin’ no place to go, but I swear it was just in her nature.”
 
“Aye. But, then, when whole families are sent away, ye learn to be practical.” Tarquin’s voice was soft. His compassion was almost as great as Galatea’s. He was a compulsive healer, she knew, and had often run into outright suspicion and hostility trying to help local tribes with medicine and warm blankets. Very few tribes even acknowledged the healer, though the Cheyenne in the area did, and while still suspicious, were not hostile towards the Irishman. He seemed to understand their plight, and why not? He himself was looked down upon by many of the ‘elite’ based on his harsh accent and treatment of those who were ‘untouchable’, despite his prominent position as a doctor. Like the Chinese railroad workers, and the Cheyenne tribe. He associated with them without prejudice. Many of the upper classes here in town now went to Will- he was white and he came from good stock, and did not have a hint of anything less than a perfect upbringing in
him. He came from money, and his parents had made certain to educate him and his sister, sparing no expense.  
 
“You couldn’t possibly have saved everyone from sickness, Tarr.” Galatea’s voice was soft. Still, even she felt pity.
 
“Aye, I know.” He nosed into Sarah’s curls then, letting her scent calm him. Luke spoke then about stabling Cleo, and Tarqin’s gaze shifted to him as Galatea’s did.
 
“That sounds like a good idea. I do hope you’ll stay for dinner, won’t be any trouble to set another place for ya.” She said it airily, though not giving him a choice to stay, really. She was expecting him for dinner, now.
 
“You should,” Celestine laughed. Her mother was giving her an excuse to spend more time with him? Yes! When he rose, she happily took his hand, placing the baby in Essie’s arms and practically skipped at his side, causing her mother to shake her head with they were out of earshot.
 
“There are times she is entirely too much like me at that age,” she sighed. “But then, I knew exactly what I wanted when I was younger than she was.” She finally gave into the discomfort of sitting upright and away from him, letting herself rest against his chest again, for the moment, but she didn’t reclaim his shoulder as she wanted to, waiting for him to wrap an arm around her first, signifying it was indeed alright for her to relax again. His next words surprised her, though. From the Orient?
 
“Ya must be jokin’.” She looked at his face. No, indeed, he was being serious. “They didn’t go after her, too?” Disbelief shot over her face, until he mentioned running into a friendly face, and she sighed. Will. Had to be, considering Doc had not had cause to get involved. And especially at his last comment. “Will?” She quirked up a brow. “Now I know you’re readin’ too far into that. Will doesn’t want another wife, and ya know that as well as I do, sugar.” She tagged her private nickname for him onto the end for charm. “Still, poor girl. It can’t be pleasant knowing everybody is out to ridicule or humiliate ya.”
 
---
 
She held his hand happily, but there was something off about him. Ever since the incident with the Cheyenne earlier, he had been acting oddly. It was as if he were hesitant to be seen with her, and that worried her. Had she done something wrong, standing up for those poor traders? Had she offended him by bringing him home again? Had she said something cruel? She racked her brain trying to come up with an answer but was finding none. When Cleo was all set, she looked at him with those slate-blue eyes.
 
“Did I say something that bothered you?” Direct, to the point. She may have been on the sensual side from her mother, but she had gotten this directness from her father, make no mistake. “If I did, I’m sorry.” Unlike her father, though, she was not above apologizing. As if to emphasize the point, she went on her toes and kissed him warmly on the mouth- the first one she had initiated, she realized belatedly.  

[Doc_Holliday]

(Edited for you, my dear. I took away her chance to kick him out, that can come later haha. Quite honestly, if I have to write one more porch post, I will explode. So I took them into night and sent him home, so you can start a new day/thing if you want. I hope that works for Will and Abby. If not, I can edit.)

He only shrugged, neither confirming nor denying that Will was the person to whom he was referring. Galatea was a smart woman though, and he knew that she had already settled on this being the truth in her mind. He quirked an eyebrow and grinned that charming grin of his when she corrected him. "We'll see. Perhaps you're right, darlin'." He clearly didn't believe a word he had just said, but let the matter drop. He wrapped his arm around her like he knew she needed in order to relax against him again. The girl had far worse things to be concerned about than ridicule or humiliation. When people felt threatened by a different way of life there was no telling what sort of violent incidents may occur.

Sarah furrowed her brow. Most likely the girl was Chinese, that being the most common group of people from The Orient out here. If it was indeed Will that had come to her aid, and it probably was, they would surely be seeing more of her. She smiled to herself. They certainly were an eclectic bunch. She too leaned against Tarquin in an effort to ease his feeling of guilt. No matter how many people he did end up helping, the ones that he could not help were never lost to him. Many times she had tried to make him see otherwise, eventually accepting that it was just the way he was, and the best thing she could do was to offer her support and love. She kissed his jaw line, not wanting to turn and reach all the way up for his mouth.

"She's just like you," the blonde woman reaffirmed. Gwen Sullivan had been a strong-willed, independent girl who was obviously not afraid to chase after what she most wanted in life. Here, Celeste was doing the same thing. "I'm glad she gets that from you," she said with a smile. Even though she was perfectly content with how her life was going, she knew it was good for a girl in this day and age to have free will and independence.

-

He had been content to stroll along in silence, not really noticing that Celeste was onto him. She let him in on it though, stopping short and meeting his soft brown gaze with her hardened blue one. The point blank question took him aback, and he blinked a few times.

"No?" He tried to give her his best convincing smile. "Of course you didn't, Celeste." He had also stopped moving forward, making eye contact with the girl levelly. She was sharp, just like her mother. She knew when something was up. "It must just be my shoulder bothering me," he said with half-hearted effort into actually convincing her. When he made a motion to work out the stiffness he was experiencing, he was unpleasantly reminded that it actually was sore.

If her direct questioning had thrown him off, what she did next surprised him even more. She reached up ever so sightly and kissed him on the mouth affectionately. They hadn't even gotten out of sight of where they had left Cleo, the stable hand just lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the young couple in the street.

"Hey," he shouted with good humor. "You better watch it, kid, she's a Holliday!" He was also working class, usually not supposed to address the elite or speak about them in such a way. But she was obviously on good terms with Luke Grant, and in his book that made her okay, "one of them."

Luke only broke out in a grin, surprise at her forwardness giving way to pleasure. "What was that for?" He murmured it softly, making an excuse for them both to have to get closer to each other so she could hear him. In his happiness and response based on instinct he forgot his place for a moment, and that he had told himself that he wouldn't allow this to happen. He reached out a hand to delicately touch the side of her face and neck, inches away from her mouth with his. He could practically feel her warmth, they were so close. He wanted to kiss her so badly...

He moved at the last second, kissing right above the corner of her lips sweetly, the motion so smooth that it seemed that a polite kiss on the cheek had been his intention the entire time. He couldn't. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't be that way with her until she knew all sides of him, if she ever did. It wasn't fair to her otherwise. He still wanted her to know that he wasn't upset with her, so he kept a steady grip on her hand and walked back the rest of the way to her house, keeping her close.

"Soon, you at least need to come and have dinner with my family again," he said, changing the subject. Maybe if there was some fair reciprocation on his part he wouldn't have to feel as guilty about sitting in with her family to eat again. She was already aware that her presence was sorely missed by his littlest sister, Eliza, so he didn't mention it again.

They returned and found the family not much changed in the half hour or so that they had been away. He was still quiet and occasionally felt a twinge of guilt for eating their food and not having anything at the moment to offer in return. Surely if he spent more time around them and got used to them, he wouldn't feel bad-mannered in politely turning down offers to eat with them. Still, their company and liveliness was very enjoyable, and who wouldn't want to spend time with them? He brightened around them, attentive to their conversations and beginning to see what Celeste meant when she said they teased each other to show how much they cared for each other, especially her parents. All moral and religious prejudice aside, he had a feeling his own parents would very much enjoy their company as well. Seeing them together would not be a likely occurrence though. They could never accept nor feel right offering an invitation for dinner. It was not out of rudeness, only from being realistic and proper by their own right. They simply came from two different worlds that were not meant for mixing.

The meal and evening chatter ended faster than he would have liked, but now was a natural segue for him to take his leave. Before he left, he spoke with Tarquin again on when he would like to see him again for work, agreeing to the set upon time, and warmly thanking the family for their hospitality. Celeste came with him to get Cleo, the stable being only a few short steps away from their home.

"Well," he began, stalling after he had retrieved his mount and had little more excuse to stay. "I promise I won't be gone for weeks again," he offered with a soft laugh. The last time they had parted, in similar fashion to how they said goodbye now, it had been for much longer than he would have liked. He may have hurt himself and restricted his capability for work, but right now he was having a hard time seeing the downside. He got to spend the entire day with Celestine Holliday, and had even been given an opportunity to see her on a regular basis. "Goodnight, Celeste." Again, he was smiling broadly, and this time he did lean in to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

With great agility he mounted Cleo with one good arm, once again grateful that he hadn't brought a saddle to have to wrestle with. He rode off into the darkness, turning around at the end of the street to make sure she disappeared back into her home, and continued on his way, making good time on his ride back without a heavy saddle to hinder Cleo. He brushed her down as soon as he got back, turning her out into her little field for the night with Sterling since it was so nice, and went inside as quietly as possible.

"Another late night for you, son," his father said with a hint of concern in his booming voice as soon as he had shut the door behind him.

Luke hadn't been expecting him to still be up. "I'm sorry. Were you waiting on me?"

"No," he admitted, much to the young man's relief. "But I am concerned that this little thing you have here is going to interfere with your work. Not to mention, your shoulder," he said, pointing to the arm that Luke kept glued to his side. Nothing got past this man.

"It won't," he assured him. His father depended on him to contribute to the family as long as he was living here. He sat down at the table with him. "Doctor O'brian has offered me work in town for awhile."

"I see," he responded. "You'll be around that girl, Celeste, is it?"

"Yes." Even hearing her name made his eyes light up, his father noted. The older man sighed and shook his head. There had been a clear change in his son ever since he had been spending time with her. He had been at his happiest that he had seen in awhile when she had been over and eaten a meal with them. It only worried him for the possibility that she would move on, as it was easy to see that Luke was wholly devoted to her already. There was a major obstacle that he had to get over, though.

"Does she knew about your mother?" He spoke gently to his son, whose spirits sank considerably. "You know that I want you to be proud of who you are," he said seriously. His half Cheyenne son showed the least amount of confidence of any of his children, and it killed him inside, making him feel he had done a poor job raising him. "But if you're gonna keep seeing her, she's gonna find out sooner or later. And she'll be much happier if she hears it from you, trust me on that, Luke."

"You always told me not to tell a soul," he responded sadly. It was so drilled into and he had never in his life let the words 'I'm half-Cheyenne' come even close to being spoken out loud. He didn't even know if he was physically capable of it, even to a girl he fully trusted and cared for.

"I'm not saying shout it in the town square," he said with a roll of his eyes, but completely sympathetic to his son's situation. He hadn't been dealt a great hand in life, but he had made the best of it up until now. "Well, it's ultimately up to you," he said, resting a hand on his good shoulder. "Now, go get some rest." Both men went their separate ways then, Luke falling into a deep sleep after a night of hardly any sleep at all because of his shoulder. Tomorrow, he would be much better rested.

[Mistress_Unknown]

She had dismissed the comment he made about his father. Truthfully she had not noticed another coming to help, most likely because she had been so fascinated by the Will, but she silently berated herself for not noticing. Normally she was far more observant. Her step-father had made her soft. But she could not resist the fleeting thought of ‘if you are anything like your father, my handsome man comment would still be in place.’ But she said nothing and allowed him to continue with his work, the blush slowly fading from her cheeks. The mention of his father coming to help him piqued her interest ever so slightly. Had he inherited his honorable behavior from his father? Now she wished she had seen him, or that she would meet the man. Men of honor were something she loved to meet. Her real father was nothing but honor and kind, and while she desperately missed him, she sought out the same behaviors in other people. She found it a rare quality sometimes among the westerners (if they called her an easterner, she got to call them that) and she felt bad about that. More men should be like this doctor and his father, she decided.

He seemed slightly distracted before he responded to her grabbing his wrist. She heard him chuckle and smiled despite herself. “It is not a problem.” She reassured him when he admitted to being distracted. “I would have been distracted in your position as well.” She claimed, for once not feeling regretful afterwards. This man interested her. And she was not above getting distracted by conversation and interesting people. She was not perfect after all, she was herself.

She produced her wrist again, allowing him to apply the poultice to it. The cool and slightly sticky feeling of the paste coupled with the roughness of the bandages was a reassurance to her and reminded her of the times she spent learning herbalism with her mother and the old women in her village. He seemed interested enough, and she allowed herself the notion that he resembled a child being told an exciting bedtime story. She loved that look on all people, not just the children she adored so much. Then he commented on her story and she raised a single hand to silence him for a moment as she corrected him. “Grew it. My grandmother has since been deceased.” She quietly admitted, still feeling the pain of her grandmother’s absence. “She lived in Wales.” She said. “But it was very useful to have, yes.” She finished before lowering her hand and letting him continue.

He mentioned that he once though she was lucky to run into him and nearly outwardly agreed when he said something else. A treasure? Her. She blushed and smiled softly. “Thank you.” She whispered. “But I am grateful to have met you as well.” She quietly admitted. “You are quite a find as well.” She said with a quiet laugh at his assumption. “No, I do not. I think you are a very kind and interesting man.” She said in complete honesty.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling too much when he explained her name and moved her sleeve to settle over her bandaged wrist. “Well, if you want to be technical-” She said, throwing the word back at him teasingly, “Abigail is my Christian name. But I suppose you can call me Abby, since Abigail is a terrible name to repeat over and over.” She admitted, sounding tired of her own name. “My step-father named my Abigail.”

She nodded when he mentioned not seeing her around town and looked at her hands. “We moved here from New York. My step-father heard that there was a lack of a tax collector as of recently, so he came to take the job.” She said quietly, waiting for the usual disdain of tax collectors to show in the man before her. “I would like to meet your mother.” She said eagerly. “I have heard a few people mention the woman with red hair, and I would like to put a face to a rumor.” She said quietly. “I would also like to meet your father as well.” She said, thinking back to her earlier thoughts. But as for her life’s story? Abby was not one to share her tale and she was sure that the woman would try, if the rumors she had overheard were true, but she would find a worthy opponent in Abby’s stubbornness. She had revealed more of herself to this man than she had intended, but another was an entirely different matter. But as for feeling welcome, she would allow the woman that much. Though her step-father would be another matter entirely.

When he hesitated for a moment she listened to him intently, and found herself taken aback at his request and she brought her hand to her lips in a quiet surprised motion as well as thought. His offer was one she was not expecting and the first thing to come from her mouth was a genuine question. "Are you sure it would be okay?" She said, voice obviously referring to the earlier display against her race. She did not want him to lose business because people were so petty. She did not wish for her presence to both him in any way, she liked him too much. But she did want to help and after she listened to his reasoning, she nodded. "If you are sure I will not cause you problems, I would very much like to help you." She said with a voice of determination. "It is better than what I do now for my step-father." She said before looking at him in the eyes.

He said he wanted to learn from her. So learn he would. The next time she got away from her step-father, he was going to be able to go through the medicine woman journals with her. Even though they were in Chinese, she would translate it for him. "I do have to ask however, would I be expected to be here at specific times?" She asked, voice almost betraying her fear. Getting away from her father from time to time was not hard, but getting away at specific points was much more difficult. But if he wanted her too, she would. She wanted to get back into healing and working with her herbs.

She had hidden from her calling for too long. It was time she got back into the habit.

[Galatea]

((Arg! Okay. Will is going to meet Abby the following day, using the excuse of her injured wrist to get her in so stepfather doesn’t flip out. So, Abby will get to meet Doc, Tea, Sarah and Essie. Tarquin, Luke, and Celeste will be heading out to the country folk for the first day- we will send them to the Cheyenne the following day. Does this work? Yes? No? I’m trying it, anyway. We need to stop relying so much on the damned porch, anyway. They have a rather large house, let’s use it!))
 
“I’m sorry,” Will offered when she mentioned that her grandmother had passed on. “I never knew either one of my grandmothers’.” Both had died before he was even thought of- his mother had still been a girl for pity’s sake! He knew of both grandfathers’, though had met neither. “Never gets any easier, losing someone you love, though.” This was said very softly, a hint of his own turmoil bubbling to the surface. But he shook his head as if clearing it, and they both changed the subject. At his mention of finding her a treasure, she reciprocated, and he chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t say I’m interesting.” A little shake of his head, in a very Tea manner. “My father, now, he’d be more what folks consider interesting. And my mother, of course, is a subject that is often brought up.” If Doc was a mystery, Galatea was an enigma. Many people speculated on her, and especially on the relationship between the redhead and the
gunslinger.
 
No, she hadn’t been here long if she wasn’t even flinching from the Holliday name. Not that she had reason to- his family was usually fairly laid-back unless someone pushed them- but folks in town were understandably nervous. There were some who still seemed to fear that Doc was going to walk into a room and shoot everyone, then walk out as if nothing happened. The mental picture was amusing, though, and Will caught himself almost laughing over it. Her voice brought him to the present.
 
“Abby,” he repeated. It was good enough, he supposed. Easier than Abigail. She went on as he spoke about his mother, and he chuckled. “No doubt you have heard of her. Everyone knows my mother. Anyone who has her ear has my father’s ear, so many, many people go out of their way to make nice with her.” He chuckled. “Ignore most of the rumors they bring up. My mother made no deal with the Devil for her looks, nor is she a loose cannon.” These were things even the casual listener would hear of Galatea Shaw. Most people liked her, but among the elite she was considered a ‘woman of ill repute’ among other less-than favorable things. That, and the fact that she was not married, had been a scandal until people realized it did not faze either the gunman or the woman. Due to the arrangement, she could have left him at any time to be with another man, but no one had ever seen her so much as look at another man with that brazen stare she so often
gave the gambler.
 
“I’m sure she’d like to meet you, in fact. My aunt would as well.” He didn’t mention Essie nor Annie, not yet. “No, I’m sure of it, she would. If it wasn’t heading towards dark I’d bring you there, but my parents come alive at night for the most part, and if my father is in a pleasant mood, my mother will accompany him tonight.” Doc had been in fine spirits this morning at breakfast, but one never knew how long it would last. He rose, then, at her question. “No one would be upset,” he reassured her. “My family is a tolerant bunch, and we’re the only doctors in town- well, myself and my soon-to-be Uncle. My father’s a gambling man, but he wasn’t always.” And consumptive- something that pained the family at times. As Tarquin and even Will had told him, if he cut down on the whiskey and tobacco he’d live longer, but as his father would often retort, he’d rather die with his boots on than hacking up a lung in bed.
Besides, he actually did rest for the most part during the day, Galatea being the one responsible for it. He rather enjoyed when Tea would curl up with him, after all.
 
“New York, though?” He grinned. “Why, we were practically neighbors. I went to Boston to study for my degree.” He had learned from the best in the country, and fallen in love with the East. But he had come back to the untamed frontier he loved above all else. His mother had been proud of him- and while he showed it horribly, he knew his father took a small measure of pride in both his son and daughter, though would never admit to it out loud. His blood mixed with the woman he did love was enough to make any man proud, but that neither one had contracted consumption was a minor miracle. Especially Celeste, who had been a tiny little thing but had happily gone to her father as a toddler, worming her way into his heart as surely as her mother. He was not the kind to coo or fawn over a child, but he had allowed Celestine to crawl into his lap from time to time, even allowing the little girl (at the time) to sleep against him just as he allowed her
mother to.
 
“Any help you can give is appreciated, Abby.” He smiled. “Any time you can come help would be appreciated.” He glanced at his pocket watch, sighing. “It’s getting late. Come, I’ll walk you home.” He offered her his arm, calmly. “If you stop by tomorrow, I can check your wrist again, and take you to meet my family if you’d like. You’ll be working with Tarquin often enough when you’re here- it’s only fair you get familiar with my aunt as well- she’s his fiancée.” He smiled again. They had to pass by his house to get to hers, and he noticed the family was outside enjoying the last of the sun- and his mother waved cheerfully as he passed, her gaze sharp even from that distance. She was pressed in against his father’s shoulder, one finger toying with the lapel of his jacket, and Will just grinned and shook his head.
 
He stopped outside the gate to her home, giving her a quick, polite bow and bringing her hand to his lips in acknowledgement of a lady from a gentleman. “I do hope I will see you tomorrow,” he said it softly. “Any time in the afternoon is fine- my parents are usually up by then and ready for company.”
 
---
 
She relaxed into his hold when he offered it, leaning her head back on his shoulder for comfort, toying with the smooth lapel of his jacket. When Sarah agreed, she shook her head slightly. “There are times I wish she didn’t take so much after me.” Even now, her self-worth was a daily struggle. She still considered herself beneath the gunslinger she was wrapped around, despite his efforts to make her see that he loved her all the more now for what she was. “She should have taken more after her fathers’ side.” A sigh, but she didn’t move away as she once would have. Doc had broken that habit in that casually masterful way of his, by carefully winding her hair around his fingers, giving her no option for escape. She had tried to pull away a few times, but he just followed her with his body until she had no choice but to relax against him or get up and cause a scene.
 
Still, she was content huddled up in her gunman’s arms where she could easily inhale his addictive whiskey, tobacco, and gunpowder scent. She did enjoy late mornings and early afternoons, if only because they usually spent the bulk of their time relaxing together. She knew he didn’t enjoy it quite as much as she did, but he did gain a small measure of satisfaction from it, or he would have not allowed it to even start, let alone become something of a normal occurrence. It was good for him, too- he should have spent his time in bed, but that would have only irritated him all the more, and she preferred to have him mobile anyway. He was up, he was about, but she still managed to usually get him to rest for at least a little while with her. And, on days like today, she didn’t fuss when he came home after a day of being apart. They would still go out tonight, still come home at an ungodly hour, and still sleep tangled together like a pair of kittens
after a romp.
 
Despite what she may have thought about herself, Tarquin knew she was good for the gunman. And why not? No one else would have them. The fact that the gunman was dangerous usually was enough to keep most women at bay, yet in spite of it Galatea had been drawn to him. She didn’t care, evidenced by the way she didn’t hesitate to bring her mouth to his, the way she would casually share a cigarette with him. She could get him to rest at least a little, a feat that thus far had been impossible. But then, he was just as good for her. He valued the former madam highly, spoiled her lavishly. He stuck around this time, for good. He seemed to understand her moods, too- he could be gentle and passionate by turns, but always matched her mood with hers.
 
No, there couldn’t be a more perfectly dysfunctional couple. Despite this, they were perfect for one another.
 
---
 
Celeste blinked when the holler went up, blushing slightly but giggling all the same. She had inherited that infectious, bubbly sound from her mother, and shook her head merrily. She didn’t mind, though- she had been forward, and it was humorous to see the usually reserved young lady acting in such a manner. But she had been raised in a home where affection was openly displayed. Her parents were not usually far from one another, and usually touched in some manner. They loved one another deeper than many couples she knew of.
 
At the question, she shrugged slightly.
 
“Because it felt right?” It was a soft admission. She’d wanted to do that for some time now, but it had just felt like it was the right time. She looked at him, and judging from his smile, it was okay. He wasn’t objecting, just surprised. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” she began, only to find that they were standing closer than was proper, so close she imagined she could feel his body heat. His eyes were such a different color from the men in her family, dark and stormy, and she loved looking into them. He kissed her on the cheek, then, and she nearly huffed, but happily kept close to him as he brought her home. Her parents hadn’t changed position, except for the more intimate placement of her mother’s head on her father’s shoulder again. Luke seemed more comfortable around them than previous times, though. He was beginning to have a more intimate view of the family, and see the interconnectedness. Will was in a conversation (or possible arguement, one never could tell) with his father about remedies for his teething daughter, while Tarquin and Essie were chatting pleasantly enough, good-natured teasing between the pair. Galatea divided her attention between Sarah, Annie and Doc, though often shifted the conversation to include Luke and Celeste as well. But it was a pleasant evening, filled with laughter and conversation. As twilight fell, the group finally began to disperse. Galatea had smirked and easily slipped her arm through Doc’s, following him down towards the busier part of town, and the nightlife they so enjoyed.
 
She hadn’t changed a thing today, still wearing the same dress that matched his eyes, and hadn’t even taken the time to do a thing with her hair or eyes. She was still attractive, even without the extra time being put into her appearance, and didn’t look slovenly by any means. A laugh drifted back- clearly Doc had said something amusing- and they drifted out of sight. Will was the next casualty of the evening- he scooped his sleepy daughter up and headed down the stairs with a ‘night all’. Celeste stood when Luke did, taking his hand and following, much like her mother did with her father, only without the sensual sway of her hips, or that throaty laugh. When he said goodbye, she couldn’t help the good-natured teasing.
 
“You better not be,” she mockingly pouted, much as her mother did. He swooped in for a kiss then, and she let him, a smile crossing her face. “Goodnight, Luke.” She trilled it brightly, watching him ride away with a smile. A dark shadow peeled off the wall, and she started until she realized it was only her Uncle Walker. She grinned then and reached for the muscular man, who hugged her tightly.
 
“You’re quite taken with him, aren’t you, little darlin’?” He inquired softly.
 
“Uncle Walker! Honestly, you’re as bad as Mama!” She laughed, but kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Uncle Walker.” She returned home, heading up the stairs for bed. She would wake up early and convince Uncle Tarr to bring her with him. She was good at that. Tarquin drew Sarah with him, too, and Essie followed, calling the cat to join her.
 
---
 
They always got in late.
 
She was in fine spirits this evening, as was he. They never really needed to support one another, but he kept her at his side with an arm around her waist, while she had hers around his. It had been a decent night- not as good as it could have been, but not displeasing. Both were slightly intoxicated- slightly only in name, for they had consumed quite a bit of alcohol. She laughed often enough, and when they made it home, made certain he knew just how much she adored him before settling in against him for bed.
 
“I’m worried about Celeste,” she said it softly. “I’m damn near sure that Luke is half-Cheyenne.” Even in the dark, she could make out enough of him to know she was close to his neck, just where he liked her to be at night. “Dammit, John, I like the boy.” She sighed. But that relationship, if she were correct, would not be an easy one. They would have to fight for it. But then, their daughter had fighters on both sides, making her a contender in this fight. She sighed again, wrapping her arm around the gambler. “They’re too young to be so serious,” she said it, knowing and accepting the irony of that statement. She’d been just as besotted over the man she was currently using as a convenient pillow slash hot water bottle at the same age as their daughter.
 
“And before you say anything, yes, I realize I’m starting to sound like Mama Essie,” she chuckled. “Try and get some sleep, sugar.” She lightly rubbed at his chest as if to comfort, and it was- sort of. That, and she just enjoyed touching him. But he was warm and his scent was comforting, so she found herself drifting off to sleep soon enough.
 
---
 
Celestine was up early. Essie was also an early riser, so she had company as she got herself dressed. The dark-skinned woman was studying her thoughtfully, though, and she looked up. “Yes, Miss Essie?”
 
“You are the spitting image of your mama at your age,” she said it softly.
 
“I know. Daddy tells me that sometimes.” She smiled. “Usually when Mama’s not around.” She shook her head. Her father seemed more amused than anything at how much she resembled her mother, and secretly she thought that was probably why he had bonded better with her than her brother. That, and of course the eye color he’d passed down to her, proving she was indeed their blood mixed together. She reached for  a dress, when Essie shook her head.
 
“No. Try a skirt and blouse.”
 
“But I want to make sure Luke notices me.” She said it almost distastefully.
 
“Girl, no man alive can fully resist that hair color.” She headed into the room now, eye critically picking out something perfect. The blue skirt would match her eyes, while the ivory blouse wouldn’t wash her out. She stepped back, eyes wide. Essie was truly gifted when it came to style. “There, now. Better for a day with that Uncle of your’n.”
 
“Thank you, Miss Essie!” She flung herself at the woman, nearly knocking her off her feet, before skipping down the stairs towards the dining room, leaving a confused woman in her wake. Galatea, having heard the commotion and not being asleep anyway had slipped out of bed, dressed quickly and headed down the hall.
 
“She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?” She asked with a chuckle.
 
“You two did a fine job with that one. She’s a beauty, through and through.”
 
“She ought to be. Struck gold wherever she touched. His eyes, my hair… she was always a pretty thing, though, even as a baby.” The redhead chuckled. “Go on down for breakfast- I’m reasonably sure Doc’s awake.”
 
“You don’t often call him by his first name, do you?” Essie quizzed.
 
“No. I got used to using ‘Doc’. It feels almost unnatural to call him ‘John’ by now. I do from time to time, just like he calls me ‘Gwen’ occasionally.” She shrugged.
 
“Funny. I seem to remember him insisting you call him by first name.”
 
“That was a long time ago, Mama.” She chuckled. “We’ll be down in a bit.”
 
She headed down the hall to their room, playfully straddling him despite being dressed for the day, more or less. She dipped in to kiss him, affection in her gaze, though there was a hint of mischief too. “Good morning, John Henry.” She winked, then. “Sleep well?” Then she laughed outright. “No, doesn’t feel natural to call you that, sugar. Essie reminded me you always insisted I call you that.” She explained, before shaking her hair back. She melted against him, then, kissing her way along his jaw to end at his ear. “When we were young, did you ever think we’d end up this way?” She purred it, playful, as she nipped at the sensitive lobe.

[Doc_Holliday]

(I'm assuming Tarquin doesn't have a team of horses hanging around to drive, so Luke will be bringing his? Which I already had planned waaay long ago that he had, so it's perfect. I will pretend he already knew Tarquin needed that from him today. )

They made every attempt to enter their home quietly after long nights out, but the hushed laughter and use of walls for support as they groped their way through the darkness made that somewhat difficult. Still, their family was used to it by now, and had learned to sleep through it. Their good mood allowed them to relax and enjoy the effects of their liquor, but both had the ability to sober up quickly if necessary. They took turns pulling each other after one another, Doc finally pulling Galatea in through the door to their room and the pair falling to the bed in a tangle of limbs and clothing.

Few, if any, ever got to see the couple as they were now. They were quiet, simply enjoying each other's physical and emotional company. She was nestled against him, and this was most often when she took the time and felt comfortable expressing her concerns to him. Now was one such night, and he wouldn't be lying if he said he had been expecting it. He gave a grunt of agreement.

"Pretty obvious if you know what you're looking for," he said with a chuckle. "He's lucky no one's asked him outright. He's a terrible liar," he said with humor in his tone in acknowledgement of the fact that he saw it as a negative. In most men, this would be a redeeming quality. Luke was honest and hard-working, except when it came to the full truth about his bloodline. Not that he could be faulted with that though. Doc actually admired the kid for swallowing his pride and doing what he had to do in order to keep working for and among the townspeople. He also knew that Galatea was fond of him, and liked him as a match for Celeste. But he gave a shrug when she mentioned their age, not having to verbalize what he knew she was already thinking. They had been around the same age. At any rate, young men grew up quickly around here, especially in Luke's line, or lines, of work.

Their conversation drifted off after that, Tea being relaxed and comfortable. Her soothing touch on his chest did little to quell the physical torment he experienced, especially at night, but she did wonders to at least ease his mind and bring him enough comfort that he didn't require anything harder than liquor to sleep at night anymore. He mostly dozed, at peace and content with Tea either curled up against him or draped over him haphazardly.

-

She could see the sunlight through her eyelids and finally peeled them open. She sighed and stretched leisurely, only then rolling over to slide up against Tarquin. She wrapped an arm around him, using his arm and chest as a pillow and breathed in his scent deeply. She loved waking up next to him, though she wasn't sure if he appreciated her habit of waking him up this way. The thought made her smile, but it was too soon after waking to speak and apologize. She got too much pleasure out of it to stop anyway.

"Good morning, love," she finally said when she felt him stirring, but made no effort to move away from him so that he could get up. They used to be the earliest risers of the house, but now with Essie here, it was no longer the case. Celeste, too, had taken to getting up very early, needing all of the extra time she could get to primp for her love interest. She laughed into the fabric of Tarquin's shirt.

"Those two," she said, clearly referring to the tender, blooming affections between Celeste and Luke. She had been less suspicious of Luke, but her brother had casually brought it up to her the night before, making her suddenly realize what all seemed "off" about Luke. She sighed, rolling more onto her side to look up at Tarquin's face, fingers toying with a button on his shirt. "Celeste is going to have a hard time of it, being with a Cheyenne boy," she said, baiting him for confirmation. Obviously he wasn't full blood, he barely even looked half, but that was enough for most people to just consider him an Indian and not think twice of him. "Not that I don't think she can handle it. I only wish neither of them had to deal with that hardship," she said to her confidant.

Hearing Galatea's voice through the walls then, she wrinkled her nose. "As late as they come in every night, they can't beat us out of bed in the morning." She laughed, kissing Tarquin once on the chest and then again on his lips before pulling herself out of bed and readying herself for the day.

Across the hall, Galatea had re-entered their bedroom. He had been up, dressed, and was just pulling his boots on, sitting on the edge of the bed when she came in. He slid back when she approached, positioning himself so that he could crawl on top of him, straddling him despite already being dressed herself. He responded to her kiss, pulling her down further against him with one hand on the back of her head. At the sound of his given name coming from her mouth, he quirked a brow, looking smug when she corrected herself. He had insisted? "Only because it was better than 'Mister Holliday'," he said, chuckling, not even bothering to respond to her question on how he had slept. He was wearing himself thin as of late, despite her best efforts to get him to rest whenever she could. "There you were trying to convince me you were proper," he continued, matching her mischievous tone. "Young Miss Gwen Sullivan," he teased, using her given name as well and fully anticipating an onslaught of playful smack, already holding out a hand to block her attempts.

-

He was up bright and early as usual, shoulder still smarting but feeling remarkably better since Tarquin had fixed him up. He was still inexplicably drawn to the Irish doctor. He and his soon-to-be wife were a sweet couple, and they treated all people graciously and kindly. The entire family did, it seemed. In addition to their high social standing due simply to wealth and position, they stood above the rest of the townspeople in caliber in terms of moral character. He didn't leave before sitting down for a small breakfast with his family, though, his father giving him suspicious looks to which he could only respond with smiles.

"Are you going to see 'Leste again today?" Young Eliza pouted from her place next to him, still fumbling over the girl's name. She was not as sour as she could have been, remembering the treats he had brought back and just given to her this morning.

"Yes, I am," he said. This answer didn't satisfy her, it only seemed to upset her more.

"She doesn't want to come see me?"

He laughed, knowing that this was an end all dilemma for the young girl but unable to help himself at her utterly forlorn expression.

"Of course she does. Asks about you nearly every time I see her. I think at this point she's just using me to get to you," he said with a stoic face and a nod. Her eyes lit up and she nodded as if she agreed with him, going back to eating her breakfast. "She promises to come soon," he finished with a laugh, and he ruffled her hair as he stood up.

"Luke!" His mother caught the action just as she was turning around to re-seat herself at the table. "I'll have to redo it, now!" But she was laughing at the girl's disheveled appearance, her large owlish eyes blinking up at her with a look of confusion as if she were the one in trouble.

"Sorry, Ma," he said with an expression of guilt, but he moved around in between her and Eliza to give her a goodbye peck on the cheek. He loved the woman with all of his heart despite the fact that she was not his birth mother. She was better, almost, because she raised and loved him when she didn't have to, while his real mother abandoned him. "Bye, Ma!" He scurried out the door, his father having already left earlier in the morning to take care of something. Both Sterling and Cleo came over to greet him when he approached their stalls in the barn, but luckily for them they had the day off today. "Sorry, guys," he said, patting each of their noses before leading them out and turning them out into their pasture for the day. On top of his two horses to ride, his family did also own two very large, sturdy, chestnut horses for driving carts and plowing. These animals were a luxury, and had taken years to be able to afford, but once they had them they soon began to pay for themselves. Occasionally, they ate before the family did.

They were a handsome pair, matching perfectly in color, size, and most importantly, strength. They got along well and were a level-headed bunch of horses. Their personalities were vastly different than that of Sterling and Cleo, but they were still loving and intelligent. "Come on, boys." He pulled each of them from their boxes, groomed them, and hitched them up to a cart to take back into the country after he went into town to find the doctor. His mother had told him that she had briefly met the kind Irish doctor before. He had taken care of Eliza when she had come down with a fever. Working with the people of the country seemed to be his passion, his nephew doing well in serving the population of the town directly.

It took longer to get into town driving a team pulling a cart, but he knew this ahead of time and planned accordingly, reaching the clinic just when he had said he would be there. "Good morning, Doctor O'brian," he said cheerfully after he had hopped down and entered the building. He was testing the waters with what to refer to his new employer as, playing it safe and using the formal title of 'Doctor' that he didn't seem to like anyway. Out of the corner of his eye he caught that fiery red hair color that instantly pulled his attention away from the doctor. He turned to look at the girl making her way towards the clinic, dressed in a simple but fashionable skirt and blouse. As she got closer, even he could appreciate how expertly the blue brought out her eyes. He didn't voice his opinion since her uncle stood right behind him, but he met her gaze and his eyes conveyed the message that she was beautiful quite clearly.

"Morning, Celeste," he did offer in greeting, though. His grin was still in place when he turned back to the Irishman, dutifully awaiting further instruction.