Murphy's, Davion & Bonnie/Mary

[Mary McCarty]

---

Summer 30th
About 1945 hours

The surreal scene that had marred the town of Buffalo Creek just hours before was over but still fresh in the minds of its citizens, in particular the wayward Federal Marshal and the women he’d bedded. Over the past season Marshal Murphy had rolled up into the little settlement gut shot and bleeding to death. Since then he’d proceeded to sleep with the barmaid of the First Chance Saloon and nearly every whore at the local brothel, one of which now claimed to be carrying his child which he had made very clear today in front of God and the whole world, was not his. The woman that considered the marshal to be hers leaned out the window of their love nest and threatened to shoot both him and his whore before she could persuade the unfaithful bastard to come upstairs so she could rip him a new one. After a stern warning to the red headed whore that had caused all the trouble, she slipped back into the room and leveled the marshal’s own gun at him and demanded he give her a reason not to blow a hole right through him. She had saved and spared the pregnant woman’s life but had promised to take that back if she dared show her face around the saloon or the marshal again.

Sam and the other girls along with a few patrons had gathered downstairs, the screaming from the room across from the owner’s was audible even outside in the dusty street as Murphy and Ross went round the room taking turns roaring at one another like wild animals. Of course wild animal noises were the norm from that room when both the marshal and barmaid were present, but nothing like this.
“Gimme one good reason why I shouldn’ shoot you Davion! One damn good reason, hell I already tried may as well do the job proper!” the voice of the scorned she-devil screeched through the saloon like rasping metal.
“I don’ know that bitch Bonnie an’ you should believe me, you know me better’n that woman!” all sat near the bar with eyes and ears only for the conversation upstairs, hoping the marshal wouldn’t resort to the same measures he had with the ill-fated red head outside the saloon. Waiting for a scream, a slap . . . a gunshot, this battle could go either way.
“Apparently I don’t! I hope it is your baby, then maybe I c’n fin’lly move on cuz I know you don’ give a rat’s ass about me!”
“It ain’t mine damnit! It ain’t mine an’ I do care about you-”
“Don’chou feed me that horse shit Davion, do you have any idea how cheap you make me feel?! I sit at that goddamn winda every f***in night an’ watch you go over t’that . . . that hell hole that shitty, disease festerin shit hole of a brothel t’lay with them whores, goddamn you Davion I hate you, I f***in hate you . . .” the rest was indiscernible as they both began yelling at the same time, hopped up on hormones and ready to spring at each other’s throats. Only bits and pieces of the argument could be picked out from the fray concerning why she stayed with Murphy knowing he was seeing other women, why she hadn’t voiced her concern earlier, how he never wanted to talk to her, why he cared about her, why she hated him, why she should’ve killed him, how happy he was to be leaving tomorrow and how he was never coming back and on and on it went for an agonizing, earsplitting forty-five minutes. Sam looked around to make sure the nails in the walls hadn’t been rattled lose by all the yelling. But like a deadly storm the skirmish upstairs played itself out until both contestants were hoarse and now fighting another battle, the pounding headaches. The protesting creak of bedsprings could be heard as Murphy sat down on the bed and held the woman that had nearly shot him, again. She cried for the next half hour, probably cried herself to sleep.

But now, the sun had set and Bonnie awoke to find Davion hunched over with his elbows on his knees at the foot of the bed studying the floor and twiddling his thumbs in deep thought. He turned his head so slowly she could hear the vertebrae in his neck straining to pivot after being in the same position for so long. No doubt he had migrated to the bottom of the bed after she had fallen asleep and waited there for hours for her to wake up again. He offered her a weak half grin before turning his hazel eyes away to glower at his boots. Looking over at the clock Bonnie suddenly realized it had been eleven hours since the ungodly spat that had them circling the room like a couple rat killing dogs hell bent on rending one another into pieces not big enough for even the crows to bother picking at. Turning back to the marshal a little bewildered she opened her mouth and heard a raspy whine escape her abused throat and choked back her words for a moment. Murphy turned to her again and waited, “Shouldn’ you be gettin ready fer yer trip, t’Nebraska? he swallowed a lump in his throat and grinned at the sound of her crackling voice before crawling backward over the noisy mattress and laying down beside her, “I got other things t’worry about at the moment.” rolling over a bit to face him she eyed his worn looking face, over the past eleven hours he had seemed to age ten years, “I tell ya, stress does nothin for you.” he didn’t answer with words, only breathed deeply and sighed so softly she doubted she would have caught it if it hadn’t been so quiet in the room. A sorrowful look came over her, she wanted so badly to tell him she was pregnant but after all he’d been through and all he had to look forward to with this next job she couldn’t jeopardize his safety. Out there alone on that range tracking a known killer with a pregnant woman on his mind was just asking for a misstep that would ultimately lead to him getting shot and killed. She would need him in the coming seasons, and even if she couldn’t be absolutely sure he was going to return she had to take the chance and hope he would come back and be a father to her child, his child.

The sheets whispered in the stillness of the room as she pulled herself a little closer to him. They were still angry, her especially but Bonnie had no way of knowing if she would ever see the marshal again and didn’t want their last night together to be one she would regret for the rest of her life. He had his right hand behind his head and she laid her blonde hair on his shoulder and crossed an arm over his chest. He was listless with a faraway look in his eye but the right arm finally came down from behind his head and wrapped around her to pull her against him, he closed his eyes and wondered what the hell had happened over the past twelve hours. He seriously considered it to be the worst day of his life, and he had been shot before, twice.

---

Fall 1st
About 0930 hours

Expecting Sam to come knocking for her to start her shift yesterday, he’d been nice enough to let her sleep off the bout of anger and frustration she and Davion had unleashed on one another. But before the sun was even well into the sky the marshal had packed up and left Buffalo Creek Bay with Bonnie in the window and Sam on his balcony watching him depart. The great black stallion’s haunches propelled the lawman down the trail through the woods, aiming for the new pass in the mountains blown out by the rail road company’s dynamite. He left behind a town, a few friends, a woman that claimed to love him, an unborn child unbeknownst to him, and many disgruntled patrons that had witnessed his unpredictable temper that drove him to shove a gun in a young woman’s face. The latter part of the list made him want to run away and never return, he had a job to do, a duty to perform but nothing and no one said he had to come back to Colorado.

Slowly trudging down the staircase Bonnie pinned her long blonde hair back in a messy bunch and straightened her black dress as she made her way across the floor to a man propped up in the corner chewing on a smoldering cigar. Sam blew a cloud of blue smoke as she approached almost like a child approaches her father in his study to ask of something he wouldn’t normally approve of. Never one to beat around the bush the black clad barmaid hesitated not one bit as she pulled out the chair opposite the saloon owner and sat down rather dejectedly, clasping her hands in front of her. Peering through the cloud of tobacco smoke Sam spoke around the Cuban, “He gone?” Bonnie dropped her brow and looked at him, “Ya know he is, we both watched ‘im leave.” Sam didn’t find the slightest bit of humor in her voice, “Good riddance.” he took a drag on the cigar and the end burned with an orange glow that pierced through the thick smoke and illuminated the severity of his features, “So ya meant what’cha said . . . when ya told ‘im he wasn’ welcome here?” she leaned back and crossed her arms as if ready to defend the man’s honor or beg for Sam’s forgiveness, so he made himself as clear as possible, “A man treats women like that ain’t welcome in my place.” Bonnie smiled, she had rather liked the way Murphy had put that whore in her place, of course they were both convinced the baby wasn’t his but neither of them had truly straightened up and faced the fact that poor woman may know who’s baby it was, hell it was she that was pregnant. Life was unjust and harsh sometimes and the whore was beginning to realize that, such a shame it had happened but it had happened nonetheless.
“He don’t treat women like that, he treats people who slap that shit out of ‘im like that, what was he supposed t’do jus stand there an’ let ‘er beat on ‘im in front o’the whole town?” Sam cocked an eyebrow at her and she didn’t need to hear his comment on that to know what he was going to say. Yes Davion should have been a gentleman and walked away, maybe even pushed past the fiery redhead but he should have never vulgarized the poor woman and put a gun in her face, “I feel like I’m listenin t’my daughter stand up for her no good, bum boyfriend so I’ll let ‘im stay in my house, eat my food an’ sleep with my child but Bonnie . . . he’s got problems an’ I don’t care how much you beg, he ain’t ever steppin foot in here again, not after that. If you were my daughter I'd make sure he could never see you again, but I can't . . . lucky you.” she broke her gaze with Sam and dropped it to the table, fidgeting some with her hands, “How long’s that barbershop been abandoned, the one cross the street with the big windas in front?” Sam leaned back and plucked the cigar from his mouth, “Bonnie, you can’t move into the barbershop.”
“Well Sam I don’ see why not, it’s a buildin, still standin sturdy an’ strong an’ nobody’s livin there.”
“It’s a barbershop . . .” he leaned across the table and whispered to her as if trying to be sure no one else heard, they may think she was crazy.
“Looks like a perfectly livable buildin t’me.” she shrugged, “I ‘ppreciate yer hospitality Sam an’ so did Davion, but I cain’t stay here. If he ain’t welcome I ain’t neither, or his child.” so far the only people in town that knew of Bonnie’s pregnancy were the doctor and her employer and she wanted to move out of this saloon, she was going to have a baby and was in need of a place to call her own. The barbershop may have been a queer place to call home but everything that had formerly made it a barbershop had been removed, it may as well be a residence now. It would be cheap and she had plenty of money anyway. Felix stumped out his cigar and placed it on the tabletop while shooting her a quizzical expression, “Do what’cha gotta do Bonnie, but you’re welcome t’stay here, I just want you t’know that, you’ll always be welcome here.” she shrugged and he leaned back again taking up a cup of hot tea, “You are an odd one Bonnie dear.”

[Jeanine Stanton]

- - -

July 16th, 1869
early morning

- - -

For the second time that week, Jeanine Stanton jolted awake in a cold sweat, breathless and trembling and sobbing with tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. She was holding onto the bedsheets with a vise-like grip, her hair all tangled and mussed up from hours of tossing and turning. Her red and panicked emerald eyes roved the room frantically, before she realized that she was sitting in her bedroom in the dim light of morning, and was no longer caught within the horror of her recurring nightmare. Letting out a long and shaky breath, she reluctantly released the sheets and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them and curling up into a little ball. After taking a few moments to even out her breathing, she glanced over at the door and was grateful that she hadn't woken anyone else in the house, not too keen on anyone seeing her like this or having to relate the details of her unpleasant dream. Finally feeling steady enough to get up, the troubled brunette cast away the sheets and stood up, hugging herself like a small child. She felt minuscule and weak, helpless and vulnerable, guilty and frightened.

It wasn't real, it had only been a nightmare, but every second had been so traumatic and terrifying that she could've sworn it had actually happened. She'd been coming out of the saloon, the sun was shining bright and she was all smiles - it was a perfect day, something amazing had just happened, she didn't know what but the feeling had been indescribable. From across the street she'd seen him, the love of her life, so handsome and wonderful and more than her heart had ever even dared to imagine. He turned, they made eye contact, it was electric and magical and god she was in love. Her features positively glowing with joy, his reflecting the same, she'd bounded down the saloon steps and was halfway across the street when a foreboding, faceless figure materialized out of nowhere and produced a gun. Bam! Bam! Two shots fired, the sinister sound hung in the air, she stopped dead in her tracks and the vibrant smile slowly slid from her features, falling to the ground and shattering like glass. Commotion had broken out on the streets, people were shrieking and yelling and running, pointing at the faceless shooter who quickly disappeared into the blackness of an alleyway. But she saw nor heard none of that. She was frozen in time, she couldn't move or breathe or think, she could only stand and stare at the man she loved lying motionless on the ground, mere feet away from her. Before she even realized what she was doing, Jeanine had thrown herself into the dirt beside him, her heartbeat stuttering wildly as she placed warm palms on either side of his face and ran a hand through his hair, her eyes frantic and wide with panic as she saw blood gushing from the center of his chest. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and he was rasping like a chain smoker. Nathan, baby, you're okay - we just have to get you to the clinic. It's alright, you're going to be fine honey, it's just a little...you just need to see a doctor real quick to patch you up, but I can't carry you and...HELP, somebody help! Please wake up, oh god please, don't do this, I love you...Nathan, please... She was gasping, tears were streaming down her face and she was practically on top of him now, stroking his cheeks and jerking his shoulders and desperately pleading, crying, shaking with the force of her sobs. But he didn't move. Someone came over and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. He's gone, sweetheart. Let go. Just let go... The person grabbed her arms with a bit more force when she refused to move, and started to tug her away, but she was thrashing and screaming and clinging to him with all her might, his blood painted her own chest and hands and face and it was everywhere, everything was red...

Then she'd awakened.

Now Jeanine stood before her mirror, watching herself with dark and haunted, shallow eyes. She shook her head vigorously, sniffled and brusquely wiped away the tears, raking her fingers through her hair and rolling her tense shoulders. She splashed her face with water from the small porcelain basin on her vanity, brushed the tangles from her hair and tamed it into straight submission. Going back to sleep was not even an option, she couldn't fall back into that black hole again. Instead she peeled her nightgown from her cold and perspiring figure, changed into a simple deep purple dress and mechanically put on make-up to at least attempt to shield all evidence of her tears. Afterward she stared at herself for a moment, gave a deep sigh, and then headed downstairs. It was just after seven o'clock, and her sister and brother-in-law were still sound asleep. Normally she too would be sawing logs, but circumstances obviously prevented that. Her expression was uncharacteristically solemn as she fixed herself a cup of tea, then dropped into a chair at the kitchen table and sipped it slowly, its warmth reviving her somewhat but in no way dissolving the fear that gripped her heart like a vise. She wanted to run to Nathan, cling to him and never let go, but that would mean explaining why she was suddenly so desperate and she didn't want to tell him about the dream, didn't want to worry him or worse yet, admit that she herself was sick with worry over this tormenting figment of her subconscious mind.

Even if she couldn't go to Nathan, she couldn't just sit there. She knew exactly where to find solace. Jeanine finished her tea, rose from the table and rinsed her cup, then was out the door. It took her merely a few minutes to reach her destination, even on foot, because it was close by. Soon she was on the doorstep, and she knocked lightly but firmly on the door, shifting her weight anxiously. She didn't bother pasting on her usual cheerful smile, there was no need to put on a show for this person she had come to see. It would be an insult to their friendship. When the door swung open, she looked up from the ground with wide, distressed emerald eyes. "Mar," she breathed, taking a step forward and inhaling a shuddering breath. "It happened again." Although she'd been somewhat reluctant, the moment she'd set foot in the saloon after having that nightmare for the first time, Mary had noticed something was wrong and demanded that she spill her guts. Jeanine hadn't been able to hold back for long before telling her close friend the whole story, she knew she would understand because she too was married to a lawman.

[Mary McCarty]

---

July 16th, 1869
Early Morning

Come mid-September and Mary and Davion would have been living here in this house, actually the town’s former barbershop, for two years. Two years since that huge blowup like none the town had ever seen between a lawman and his woman . . . or women. Thankfully her friend with benefits hadn’t been around, he would have likely shot at Davion too. Mary hadn’t told anyone but her husband about that, who Davion and her former lover chose to tell was up to them. To Mary it was all water under the bridge to be perfectly honest, something to be forgotten and learned from, two wrongs do not make a right.

Today was Friday and Mary had stood out on the porch early this morning like she normally did, watched the sunrise with Sam no doubt doing the same, leaning over the railing of his balcony with his cup of hot tea in hand. She watched the town come to life, Henry rode in and boarded his horse in the livery, opened the bank and then went back home with a load of paperwork, opting to work from home more these days since the incident almost exactly a month ago. The man still couldn’t bear to be far from his beloved wife for too long, fearing her safety and that of his now three children. Henry had come to town the same year Mary had, she had one kid and over the course of two and a half years Heck had managed to wind up with three. The big bright red Wells Fargo stage pulled up with its six horse team today just like it did every Friday, straight up to the front of the bank, heavily armed men carrying money in and out of the building for transfers and loans and whatnot. It took an hour and the banker was gone again. Davion was still in bed, the jail keeper had watched the prisoners the night before and given the marshal the night off. In autumn Mister Murphy would turn forty-two about the time his second child would be born, Mary hoped the kid would be born close to its father’s birthday. What if it was born on Sam’s birthday? It could certainly happen. After Judge Savage rode past and boarded the train to head on to Denver Mary finished her coffee and went inside to check on her eighteen month old daughter. Carrying a girl who was nearly two years old around while being six months along with another kid was out of the question so Mary had to ignore the little girls ‘up!’ pleas a lot more. To which Evelyn was not particularly happy.

Fixing a little bowl of peaches with a pinch of sugar Mary walked back into the parlor to give them to Eve but she had proven to be her father’s child and was curled up on the couch sleeping again. The barmaid rolled her eyes setting the bowl down on the coffee table, “Wait’ll you start school kid, oh you’ll be in for a treat.” no going back to sleep in the mornings but at least she would still be getting her naptime. But school was several years down the road which was already something Mary was vexing over. She hoped Eve didn’t get much homework because Mary was still very much illiterate and Davion would have to help her with that. Heading for the kitchen she knew the smell of bacon and eggs would rouse her sleepy household. With breakfast on the griddle Mary as bustling round the house picking up toys, clothes and shoes, tidying up a bit, she would sweep later. Going back to the toddler on the couch to brush a lock of white blonde hair from the little girl’s face Mary stopped when she heard a knock at the door. Having so many visitors she could almost be sure who that was, that distinguished rap at the door. Peeking into the kitchen to check on the food Mary went to the door, satisfied the house would not burn down or anything. The former outlaw was surprised to see her friend Jeanine standing on the porch but a reassuring smile crossed her face immediately spotting that vexation on the woman’s face. How did she get her hair so perfect everyday . . . that was not important, “Oh . . .” she reacted to the concerned confession from the saloon singer and stepped aside, “come on in I just made fresh coffee.” bypassing the snoozing Evelyn who had curled into a ball with her bum in the air Mary smiled and rolled her eyes again, “She ain’t worth a squirrel fart.” she whispered and stepped into the kitchen, pulling out a chair for Jeanine to take a seat. Mary went back to cooking, putting the biscuits in the oven and hoped her husband wouldn’t suddenly come in, indecent. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel Mary turned to ask Jeanine what was vexing her, though she already knew, but a punch to the ribs startled her and a hand pressed into her swollen belly, “Ooo, I swear this is a little boy, girls ain’t this mean.” she laughed and came over after taking the bacon and eggs off the stove, “Lemme sit on down, like a pregnant lady.” squatting into the chair she breathed a sigh of half discomfort and relief before leaning back, “So . . . bad dreams, you look tired hon, y’don’t mind me sayin.”

[Jeanine Stanton]

- - -

July 16th, 1869
early morning

- - -

A momentary flash of surprise crossed Mary's features, most likely because she knew that usually Jeanine never even saw the light of day before noon, much less the crack of dawn. The tall brunette kept strange hours, singing and performing at the saloon then writing songs at home into the wee hours of the morning and sleeping until mid-afternoon, but this abhorrent nightmare had completely thrown off her odd schedule. She hoped there were no ugly bags under her eyes, that would not do with her level of vanity, but she'd rather be awake, hideous and safe from her subconscious mind than asleep and scared shitless. The concern and anxiety broke in her expression for a moment as the young soon-to-be mother of two beckoned her inside, and she silently entered, considering whether she might have some coffee to help get her through the day. Normally she stayed away from the stuff, preferring tea, but these were unusual circumstances.

Jeanine couldn't help but crack a smile as Mary gestured at her daughter and used that peculiar phrase she always did about the flatulence of a large rodent. Little Evelyn wasn't quite so little anymore, nearly two years-old and just as adorable as ever. She'd babysat the girl a few times and had always enjoyed it, she had her mother's sense of humor and spunk, but apparently her father's sleeping habits. Following her friend into the kitchen and dropping down into the seat she'd been offered, Jeanine watched a bit enviously as the barmaid easily whipped up breakfast, like she'd been doing it for years...which she had. She couldn't even make proper toast, much less fix a whole meal. The knot of anxiety coiled even tighter in her stomach as she internally fretted over how in the hell she was ever going to be a good housewife when she couldn't cook, couldn't sew, and didn't clean unless there was absolutely nothing else in the universe left to do - so basically never. How could she ever give Nathan what he wanted and needed when the level of her domesticity was about as much as a rabid wolf?

But she forced herself to put aside those worries, pinching the bridge of her nose and heaving a great sigh. Jeanine looked up when Mary clutched her stomach and made a crack about the baby, and figured that she'd been given another swift kick in the gut. She offered her companion a look of sympathy, and replied with a soft smile, "I dunno, Mar, you're a spitfire so I'd say it could go either way." She tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a weird sniffly noise. Whatever the baby's gender, she was sure it would be quite the active one given his or her parents. The saloon singer watched with faint amusement as the bloated blonde lowered herself into a chair, swollen and big but glowing. Pregnant women were always so gorgeous, she thought, their beauty magnified by the blessing of a new life growing within them.

At the mention of her nightmare, Jeanine grimaced and raked a hand through her long auburn locks, though her brows furrowed even further at her friend's observance of her weariness. "Oh no, am I getting wrinkly and worn-looking?" She fretted aloud, her dainty piano-playing hands flying up to cup either side of her face, which was youthful as ever even if it had temporarily lost the glow of its charisma and charm. She then sighed and shook her head, dropping her hands to her side and adding defeatedly, "Sorry, guess I'm just paranoid in more ways than one. I didn't mean to interrupt your morning, it's just..." Jeanine trailed off for a moment, looking down at the ground and inhaling a deep shaky breath, before she lifted her gaze and continued, "I watched him die, Mary...right there in my arms. And it all felt so real." She shuddered at the recollection, pursing her lips and forcing herself not to get emotional again. It would be mortifying if she just melted into a pathetic puddle on Mary's kitchen floor, especially when the women before her had remained strong through so much hardship and here she was, all broken down over some stupid dream. "I just need to toughen up. If I'm to be a lawman's wife I should act like it," she chastised herself brusquely, squaring her shoulders and sitting up a little straighter, as if that would reduce her fear at all.

[Mary McCarty]

---

July 16th, 1869
Early Morning

Folding a stray strand of hair she had missed when throwing it up, behind an ear Mary sat at the table listening to what Jeanine had to say about Murphy baby number two. To be honest Davion was hoping it would be a girl, he just loved Evelyn so much he couldn’t imagine having a little boy to butt heads with but Mary wanted a son and felt deep down, Davion did too. He was the only child of his parents who had been dead several years now, he needed to carry on the family name. If the next baby was a girl they would just try again but she would draw the line at four. After four babies if all of them were girls Mary was done and Davion probably would have offed himself by then by reason of insanity. But if this next tiny tyke was a rough and tumble boy they could consider the mission a success and stop there. Two kids were enough, a boy and a girl, perfect. Right now Davion was outnumbered and come the time that little girl turned thirteen and started hanging out with her mother a lot more, as little girls tended to do, Davion would be a lonely guy. He needed a son.

“I work pretty hard t’give my man what he wants, I reckon I’ll try t’get ‘im a little boy . . . I love ‘im though cuz ya know what? He ain’t ever asked me for a damn thang, I don’t gotta make breakfast for ‘im, I just do.” he didn’t ask her to clean up the house, bear him a son, mind her manners in public, mind him, “He did ask me not t’leave the house or sit out on the porch in nothin but his shirt anymore . . . I just figured he had a pretty good point there.” she laughed and remembered those flabbergasted faces she had gotten, sitting out there on the porch in her husband’s shirt. At least it was buttoned up and long enough to cover her nether regions. Someone riding along the street in the village on that gloomy foggy morning had spotted the wild haired blonde sitting out on the porch drawing off a cigarette after she and Davion had a mild spat about something. They didn’t fight often but they had their arguments and to be honest Mary usually blew them out of proportion and had to sit alone and think about it for a little bit.

Comically rolling her eyes when Jeanine asked if she was getting wrinkly the barmaid scoffed and arced a brow at her friend, “You? I don’ think so hon.” Mary smiled and pulled her house coat closed over the swell of her belly. It wasn’t that big but she seemed to remember she was not this big at six months last time so giving birth was sure to be lots of fun but the doc was right behind their house a stone’s throw away so she wasn’t worried, well not that worried.

Speaking of paranoia it seemed no one had really lowered their hackles since the shootout in February. She had just watched poor Henry ride back home not wanting to leave Bella for too long and that was a strange twist since Bella herself was also paranoid but about a whole different thing. Nothing could convince the Italian that her husband was not sleeping with every woman in town and that saddened Mary, to live in that constant state of sorrow thinking her man was running around on her. Davion had run around on her and to this day Mary didn’t think he still was even when he spent hours in Denver doing shit at the courthouse. She had faith in him and couldn’t figure out why Bella couldn’t trust Henry, a man that had never cheated on her. If she loved him she should trust him, or at least know how it tore him up when he sat at the bar sometimes talking to her or Jeanine about his wife’s complete lack of trust in him, and he blamed himself. No matter what he did it didn’t seem to change the way she thought of him. But he wouldn’t tell Bella that and Mary wondered if the reason he told her was so she would talk to his wife for him, but she wouldn’t do that. It was a problem between Henry and Bella and they needed to talk about it, together.

Jeanine went into more detail about her nightmare and Mary listened as any good friend should, she had gotten much better over the years in interacting with people, no more spacing out when someone was speaking to her. Back then her problems were her problems and everyone else could kiss her ass but as time went on it became more apparent that, someone else’s problems could become her problems. Not to mention Jeanine was a friend, she owed it to her to try and help her, “It’s hard, bein married to a man whose job puts his life on the line every day like that. But Nate’s been a sheriff for a long time, Davion’s been a marshal for, at least u-hunderd years.” she scoffed, “Nothin too serious has happened an’ nothing may ever happen. You gotta be prepared either way but they’re both real careful, good at their jobs too otherwise they wouldn’a lasted this long huh?” there was a bear in the town she grew up in, a big brute of a beast that would break through fences and kill livestock by the dozens just for fun every spring after hibernation for fifteen years. Then he would be gone again and the town sent hounds after him, their best hunters and horses, even the army at one point but to no avail. Mary’s father had told her that rogue boar hadn’t gotten to be as old as he was by being stupid, he was much too smart for the likes of anyone to hunt down and kill. Nate and Davion hadn’t gotten this far being supid and careless. Though someone had beat the good sheriff over the head in the shootout and Davion had taken a bullet, that was the most excitement this town had ever had, “Ya know, when I had nightmares, which I had plenty, I learned t’control em.” the barmaid suggested, “Once you figure out yer dreamin you c’n either wake yerself up, or turn the tables, shoot the asshole that’s about t’do you harm, or Nathan . . . or pick up a shovel an’ beat the sum’bitch t’death.” she tweaked that awkward smirk and looked away toward the window. That had been the fate of the man that had shot Davion, Mary decided she’d had enough with that particular bounty hunter after he shot Henry and took a shovel to his head until he was unrecognizable. That morning passersby didn’t wonder who it was tramped into the mud in front of the mercantile, but rather what it was.

[Jeanine Stanton]

- - -

July 16th, 1869
early morning

- - -

Gently resting her chin in the palm of her hand, a soft little smile tugged at the corners of Jeanine's lips as she listened to her friend step up on her soapbox for a moment, talking about Davion and how he never demanded anything of her. "You've got a good one, that's for sure. Count yourself lucky, girl." She agreed quietly, inclining her head. Nathan was much the same way, he didn't order her around or tell her to do this or that - not that she would listen anyway if he did - but he respected her and if he ever did ask something of her, it was a request and not a command. She'd had a problem with authority ever since she was a little girl, but having been with the sheriff for two years now, she could safely say that his position of power in the eyes of the law never irked her, at least in the sense of supremacy. In fact, she almost wished he would be a little more controlling, at least in the bedroom. For some reason, it just got her off like nothing else when he pinned her up against the wall and used that deep, husky, overconfident tone and told her exactly what he was going to do to her, and that she had absolutely no say in it. But those sorts of things aside, she was glad that both herself and Mary had found themselves good men.

A somewhat relieved expression crossed Jeanine's features as the barmaid confirmed that she was not, in fact, turning into a little old lady yet. The prospect of being wrinkly and fat and no longer beautiful, slender, and sexy was absolutely terrifying to her. She couldn't imagine looking in the mirror and not seeing something stunning, as vain as that sounded. Shaking these conceited musings out of her mind, she noticed Mary tugging her robe a little tighter around her round belly, and reached over to rest her atop her friend's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And you look more gorgeous than ever, Mar. You're glowing." She figured the blonde would probably just scoff and wave away her compliment, but it was absolutely true, and she would certainly be able to get Davion to attest to the fact. And a slew of other men in town, but the last thing the pregnant woman needed was a bunch of pervs eyeing her like a piece of meat. Jeanine definitely had plenty of experience with that, as it was a daily occurrence for her, both in her workplace and elsewhere.

The saloon singer was grateful to have a close friend who understood her situation, who could relate and listen with experienced ears. Lila was also involved with a man of the law, and she suspected that Jane would soon be tying the knot with Wyatt, but neither of them were as wise on the matter as Mary. Nathan's mother was, of course, the widow of the late former sheriff and knew what it was like to lose her man to his profession, but she didn't like the idea of upsetting Annie by talking about the subject. She'd already lost her husband to the law and Jeanine was sure she wouldn't like to dwell on the same happening to her son. So, it was best to come to Mary, who could hear her concerns with no bias. When it was her turn to listen, the brunette did so with undivided attention, her almond-shaped eyes a deep and thoughtful shade of green as she processed all the marshal's wife had to say. She knew what the other woman said about both of their men being experienced and prepared made more than perfect sense, but she still worried. "You're right, I know you are, it's just...I'll never forgive myself if something happens to him. Maybe I rely on him too heavily, I'm not sure, but I literally can't imagine life without him. I don't want to imagine it." She shook her head, unable to keep speaking, dragging a hand over her tired face and inhaling yet another shaky breath. "This is why I never let men get close to me in this past, it was always a hit and run affair. Now that I've entered the 'one and done' realm, much less with the goddamn sheriff, I have to be prepared for whatever may come. How can I do that when I have no flipping clue what's to come? It's downright terrifying and I'm not equipped to deal with this. I can't handle it. I'm not tough enough. I'm so unbelievably afraid that I can't be the woman he needs." Jeanine was practically out of breath by the time she got all that off her chest, and dropped her head down onto the table, half-heartedly whacking her forehead on the surface a few times.

The young musician glanced up from her pity party as Mary went on to say that she should just murder whoever the villain was in her nightmares. She lifted her head and said, "Last time I shot a gun, I put a hole in the ceiling of the jailhouse. And the most use I'd ever get out of a shovel is as a giant dildo. You can't sing a guy to death so I'm basically worthless." Jeanine dropped her head onto the table again and groaned.

[Mary McCarty]

---

July 16th, 1869
Early Morning

Mary said nothing more when Jeanine congratulated her on finding a good man that didn’t demand that she bend to the rules of society like others did. He had been pissed off last month when he was offering to turn a blind eye to the homicide of William Helms, letting Henry get off with no trial, no questions asked and the banker’s wife, Bella had the gumption to be a bitch about it. She’d been so snarky and condescending that the marshal finally averted his gaze to the woman’s husband who stood idly by and said nothing to his wife for speaking to another man the way she was. He had commented later that it had been Henry’s job to put his woman in her place, but he had understood she’d had quite the ordeal that morning and was simply looking for a punching bag, which just so happened to be the passive marshal. He had told Mary however that he had wanted to smack the shit out of Bella but feared Henry would have shot him too. She had never told Jeanine the story of how her fascination in the lanky marshal had even come to be, back when he had that thick mustache and goatee. She thought it was so sexy but now he wore a short stubble, claiming that his facial hair was greying in his middle age, his beard would practically be white if he grew it out.

Giving that sort of sighing laughter much like someone did when they were tired, Mary leaned forward a bit, “Not glowin as much as you do up on that stage.” she winked and leaned back. Mary had no talent like that, when she and Davion had first married she couldn’t cook for shit, she was much better now but hadn’t even known how to properly fold clothes two years ago. She couldn’t sing, dance, could barely read but could shoot a dollar coin out of the sky but hell just about anyone out here could do that having grown up around guns. But since last year the blonde barmaid had found a skill she particularly enjoyed, growing flowers in that little garden out back. Truth be told Mary did not have to work when the marshal brought home one-hundred-fifty dollars a week, more than enough for them but if she didn’t work she would go crazy.

She could understand what Jeanine was going through, before Evelyn she had never seen herself settling down, let alone with the likes of the marshal who had been chasing her all over the desert for the past nine years, “I know ya can’t hon, it is hard but it gets better, once ya spend a few months with ‘im an’ nothin happens you’ll start t’relax . . . the fear’s always there but, it moves t’the back of your mind. Ya can’t have a good marriage or even a good relationship if ya worry about ‘im all the time. Lotsa women left their lawmen when they just couldn’t bear t’see somethin happen to em. It takes a hell of a woman t’be with a man like that, but I think you got the right stuff.” she smiled and took a sip of the coffee she had brought back to the table, pushing another mug toward her guest. The barmaid had confidence in her friend but laughed when she pressed her forehead to the cool tabletop and admitted to not being able to use a gun or a shovel in any practical way. But before Mary could say anything more a familiar but groggy looking face popped up in the doorway. The marshal, still about half asleep, quickly let their guest know he had heard her, “And let a prisoner escape.” Mary got up from her chair with a soft laugh, “But what was it you told me? . . . that the guy walked right past you an’ you . . . what is it you done again?” Davion raked his fingers through his long hair to put it in its place. It always surprised Mary how long it was but since he kept it combed back it was difficult to tell, however he wasn’t wearing a shirt in the company of a guest and so Mary was busily handing him his breakfast so he would leave, “I uh . . . tipped my hat to ‘im, said ‘howdy!’ kept walkin. Oh, in case you’re wonderin, no dildos in the house . . . none, Mary could never find one that could compare-” pouring a cup of coffee Davion turned and took the plate his wife was offering, but also giving him that pleading look to stop talking, “There, go eat . . . my fuzzy bear.” she demanded and patted him on the belly, “Yes mother.” rolling her eyes at him Mary turned to Jeanine and mouthed a quite ‘I’m sorry’ for her husband’s indecency and returned to the table.

[Jeanine Stanton]

- - -

July 16th, 1869
early morning

- - -

Although she was not a modest or humble person by any accurate standards, the peculiarity of her mood prompted her to shake her head and laugh softly at the compliment she received about her knack for owning the stage. "It doesn't take much to captivate an audience, especially one predominantly made up of drunken males." Jeanine pointed out, giving a light but good-natured roll of the eyes. She wasn't putting down her own abilities, she knew she was talented, but her words were also true. As a little girl dreaming of making it big, she hadn't exactly pictured herself as the headliner for a saloon in a little western town that nobody had ever heard of, but it was enough. She didn't sing, write songs and play piano for the fame or glory or recognition, that would be a shallow and baseless source of inspiration. It was merely a release that she couldn't live without, a way of expressing herself, while simultaneously making a living. She didn't have any other means of supporting herself, after all, and she'd be damned before relying on someone else. She knew that Nathan wasn't particularly fond of her profession, or rather where and how she practiced it, but he wasn't about to try to tell her what to do and even if he did, she wasn't about to listen.

Like a dejected small child, she just barely lifted her head from the wooden surface of the table to listen to what Mary had to say. Settling her chin in the palm of her hand, Jeanine couldn't help but feel at least somewhat uplifted by her friend's words of comforting truth. She could always trust the blonde barmaid to tell it to her straight, whether it was good or bad or somewhere in between. She inclined her head with the faintest trace of a smile ghosting her lips as the marshal's wife informed her that she had the 'right stuff' to stick it out with a lawman, but still she worried, and it was a gripping panic that twisted the pit of her stomach at the prospect of constantly being saddled with this sort of baggage. Her love for Nathan surpassed that for anyone or anything she'd ever known, but with that came terror at the idea of losing him. "Yeah, well...the stuff I got is scared shitless." She quipped exasperatedly, and though she wasn't normally a coffee drinker, she downed near half the mug that Mary handed her in a single gulp. She would need the liquid stimulant just to make it through the day.

Tossing a glance over her shoulder at the sound of a groggy male voice, Jeanine arched a brow as none other than the marshal himself materialized in the threshold of the kitchen, half-clothed and disheveled but still attractive as hell. A light smirk tugged at the corners of the saloon singer's full pink lips as she gave him a little half-wave, then returned her attention to Mary with a full-out grin as her husband began to speak about her aversion to dildos. Once Davion had been given his breakfast and was shuffled out of the room, the brunette leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs, the sparkle of mischief and amusement briefly returning to her eyes as she teased lightly, "'Fuzzy bear'? Mmm, sexy." She then waved a dismissive hand as Mary mouthed an apology for her man's indecency, adding a bit impishly, "No complaints here." Jeanine waggled her eyebrows, some of her usual playfulness returning, before she looked down at her nearly drained coffee mug and heaved a sigh. After a long moment of silence, she looked up at her companion and said earnestly, "I'd rather be with him and face the fear than walk away knowing it would break his heart. He's worth everything." Her emerald orbs shone with sincerity. They would have to drag her away kicking and screaming before she'd ever leave Nathan LaHaye, sheriff or not.

[Mary McCarty]

---

July 16th, 1869
Early Morning

Yes, the barmaid knew all about the drunken men at the saloon, it was a saloon. But unlike many saloons Sam chose not to keep whores at his, always saying his place was “kid friendly” yeah it was about as kid friendly as any other saloon. Drunk cowboys and guns was not kid friendly, nor was a temperamental bar owner that would gut any man that crossed him, right there at the bar. He had shot a few men in there that Mary had seen, just shot them and dragged them out to die in the street. She never really knew how Jeanine dealt with the drunks but when someone grabbed Mary’s ass they got a boot to the chest and went crumpling to the floor. Every man was different drunk. Some were sad and looked ten times as lonely when they submersed themselves deep in the drink, some got violent beyond belief, moody and irritable, silly and funny, giggly like a little girl, flirtatious, grabby, vulgar, unconscious. That last one was her favorite, that and sleepy, some men just got really sleepy and stared vacantly at walls for hours before lying down on the counter and passing out, thus becoming unconscious, win win. Davion got loopy and silly but was quick to get angry.

“I’d get nervous . . . weird I know but I think I would, stumble around, ferget lyrics. I c’n shoot a dollar coin outta the sky but, nothin much else, make my daughter laugh . . . I c’n make Davion sing but . . . well that’s different.” she laughed hoping Jeanine knew what she had meant by that, sure she did. Her taut belly was beginning to annoy and the sad part was, she was not due until November but couldn’t wait to get this kid out into the world. She hadn’t told anyone what they planned to name it, they had a boy’s name picked out so if it ended up being a girl, she would be in trouble. They wanted to name it Francis so that could work for a girl too right? A girl named Frankie would be alright, just like Charlotte and Charlie. If Mary had any say in it her nickname would have been Molly, it sounded tougher than Mary for some reason, the Virgin from the bible was alright too she guessed, nuns were pretty bitchy though. Sister Mary Katherine with her strict rules and that damn wooden ruler she would smack the hell out of you with, oh the horror stories of private school went on for days. Mary had never had any form of education.

Her little half of a grin at Jeanine’s comment showed her humor, “Well it won’t be.” it was clear those two were crazy about one another, absolutely head over heels in love and the only thing that could probably screw it up was if they made the same mistake Mary and Davion made, and cheated on one another. Which was something she did not see happening. Speak of the devil the marshal himself decided to join the party, pouring his coffee and smiling in a touch of embarrassment when Jeanine repeated Mary’s pet name for him, “But he ish fuzzy, wook at ‘im, my fuzzy man bear.” Jesus Christ she barely talked to the kid like that. Davion took his plate with that sleepy grin and went back into the living room sitting next to Evelyn he gave her a pop on the butt and she rolled over ill as always, “OW! Bad Poppy!” Mary rolled her eyes, “Davion and Evelyn . . . don’t make me come in there!”
“She started it!” the one and a half year old was talking now, barely and most adults couldn’t understand her and the girl’s parents could just barely figure out what she was saying. Pointing and grunting at things she wanted and screwing up her face at things she hated. Green beans for one, “Dat natty!” she would cry and push it away.

Dear lord here she was about five months along and this kid’s father would be forty-two soon. The age difference didn’t bother her, it was fairly common for men to marry young women after they spent half their lives making a name for themselves. The other half was to be spent making babies, couldn’t really do that with a woman their own age, “I agree completely . . . us lawmen wives, we gotta stick t’gether.”

[Jeanine Stanton]

- - -

July 16th, 1869
early morning

- - -

Daintily drinking the last dregs of her coffee, a light and amused smile played on Jeanine's lips as she listened to her friend relate her concerns about ever taking the stage herself. Many people over the years of her performing, whether it was in Buffalo Creek or elsewhere, had asked her how she ever worked up the nerve to get up there and seem so flawlessly cool, collected and sexy. It wasn't really something she strategized or thought out, there was no technique or method to ease the anxiety of being so vulnerable and exposed in front of a crowd. The only way to rid oneself of the fear was to face it head on, and consequently she was fearless, she didn't care if they laughed or cried or cheered when she was done, because it wasn't for them that she put on the show. She did it for herself, for the satisfaction of self-expression, she knew she was talented and felt secure in that without needing to hound others for praise and reassurance. Sure, compliments were always welcome, but at the end of the night she could look in the mirror and feel completely content with what she'd accomplished.

Her emerald orbs softened with friendly affection as Mary went on to list her own talents, for though the woman appeared tough as nails on the outside, she knew for a fact that the blonde barmaid's heart was pure gold. However, the musician smirked and waggled her eyebrows as her companion alluded to making her husband sing, but not in a way that was suitable for a crowd. "Ooh, I'm sure you can," Jeanine purred playfully in reply, giving a salacious little wink. The two women flirted all the time, all in good fun of course, a joke between them that never seemed to end. Sometimes they exaggerated it just to freak out some of the men at the bar in the saloon, the two loved to play their games and carry on with their wacky antics, making eyes at one another, blowing kisses and licking their lips. Afterward they would hoot and hollar all the way home, reminiscing about some of the confused and flustered cowboy's reactions. There was nothing better than making a man wonder.

Although still somewhat anxious and apprehensive about what was to come in the future, Jeanine felt better after getting all her complex emotions and doubts off her chest, she'd known that Mary would listen and be able to empathize. She inclined her head in acknowledgment at the woman's further reassurance, still a bit unconvinced, but there was certainly no ducking out or backing down now. She loved Nathan, he was everything good and sweet and wonderful in her life, the way he made her feel was indescribable. To give up a single second with him because of the possibility of tragedy would be a shameful waste. A smile painted her lips as she saw that same timeless devotion in the interaction between Mary and Davion, sure they'd had their past blunderings and it had been shaky, but she strongly suspected that age and their child had bonded them all the more. Even if a bit corny, her nickname for the marshal was undoubtedly adorable and he didn't seem to mind one bit, even if it didn't exactly boost his masculine image.

"You think Nathan would let me call him something like that?" Jeanine mused aloud, stroking her non-existent beard conspiratorially. The prospect was highly amusing as she envisioned his reaction, that cock-eyed look he'd give her whenever she said something particularly off the wall. If it was an insult, he'd either just laugh it off or, if feeling playful, he'd swoop down on her and a merciless attack of tickling would ensue. He knew just the spots to make her squeal and squirm and laugh until her stomach hurt, and she wasn't nearly strong enough to fend him off. "I did call him 'grandpa' once...he didn't really much take to that." A wide grin spread across her features at the recollection. There was only a two year age difference between the couple, and they were both still in their youthful prime, but every once in a while when he would complain of an ache or pain or act sluggish, she liked to push his buttons and remind him that he would soon be turning twenty-nine.

Hearing the commotion going on in the other room between father and daughter, Jeanine couldn't help but laugh, especially when Mary threatened to go in there and put an end to their morning horseplay. "I still can't believe Eve's talking," she said, shaking her head in awed disbelief. "Seems like just yesterday I was holding her in my arms for the first time and marveling at what a gorgeous baby she was," she smiled at the memory, at seeing how happy Mary was as a new mother. Someday she wanted to know that joy, she wanted to experience it all with Nathan, to give his mother the grandchildren she so desperately wanted. But not just yet, she wanted some time to spend with her new husband and to just settle into being Mrs. LaHaye. The prospect was exhilarating to her, taking on his name and being so completely his. There had been a time when she'd believed that marriage was a sham and love just an overstatement of hormones, but she'd been completely turned to the other side by one golden-hearted sheriff.

The tall brunette tilted her head and felt a soft smile touch her lips as the barmaid stated that as lawmen's wives, they needed to stick together. Standing up and gliding over to where the blonde stood at the kitchen counter, Jeanine gently hugged her around the shoulders from behind and said lightly, "I couldn't have said it better myself, Mar. You know you could never get rid of me anyhow." The saloon singer laughed, pecking her friend's cheek playfully and giving her a squeeze before pulling away. Very gingerly placing her warm palm upon the swell of Mary's stomach, Jeanine looked with wonder at the baby bulge and exclaimed, "Sheesh woman! When you gonna pop this sucker on out?" She knew the other woman wouldn't take offense to her bunt words, neither of them were at all sensitive. The young musician moved her hand around a bit, intrigued, wondering if she might feel the baby kick. "Got any names picked out?" Undoubtedly they did, but she hadn't heard any of their choices yet.

[Mary McCarty]

---

July 16th, 1869
Early Morning

Mary winked at Jeanine when she did not even attempt to deny her abilities to satisfy her man. The marshal was a lucky guy, but his wife was also a spitfire to boot and would scalp him if he did something stupid. Of everyone in this town there was only one that could boss the seasoned lawman around and that was his little lassie. They were both from Montana though born about fifteen years apart and Davion was well on way to becoming a man when Mary was born in Billings, not far from Great Falls where Davion was brought into the world, named for his two grandfathers David and Damien. His middle name was Wade but he never much cared for it and when he signed his official document like when he joined the Mexican War he did not use his middle name, not even an initial. Miss Marigold hated her first name which was something else entirely, one could not just leave out the first name. Murphy and McCarty were both very Irish last names and Davion and Mary were third generation potato eaters hailing from Irish immigrants.

Furrowing her brow Mary looked quite doubtful at her friend’s question, “No.” she did not know Nathan very well, just from what Davion told her and most of what she had heard was that the sheriff was quiet. Of course the marshal talked so damn much Mary had a hard time believing that, instead more inclined to imagine Nathan was “quiet” because he couldn’t get a goddamn word in edgewise. Hearing that Jeanine had called LaHaye ‘grandpa’ made her laugh however, “I’ve actually never called Davion that, Sam now . . . he’s Eve’s grandpa.” and she loved her grandpa, ‘ganpa’ actually. She ran up to anyone else and hugged their leg unless it was Sam, reaching up and opening and closing her fists, making baby noises. Her friend Henry’s kid could say ‘up’ when he wanted to be held but it seemed Eve had yet to grasp that concept. The banker and the sheriff had something in common, they were born in the same year, both turning twenty-nine this year. If Davion had not come back to her and Bella hadn’t snatched him up Mary may have pursued Scarborough, of course she already kind of was at the time.

The barmaid nodded her head when her friend marveled on the milestones Miss Evelyn Rose, smiling proudly, “She’s so smart, doc says it’s early too, babies don’t start talkin til two usually.” Eve was eighteen months and already knew a handful of words. She was in a constant state of stimulation which boded well when Mary and Davion needed their rest because that kid could sleep for days it seemed. Beaming again at Jeanine’s statement Mary rubbed her belly and looked in the direction of the living room, “Hey, that’s my line.” Eve used to be so teeny, given she was a good sized baby, if Mary remembered correctly she had been about eight pounds. But no bigger than a loaf of bread and she wasn’t much bigger now, she would be a little teeny girl, maybe not even as tall as her mother but Mary was kind of impressive height wise anyway. With her boots on she could easily push five eight.

The saloon singer seemed a bit more at ease now and came over to offer her gratitude to her friend, giving her a hug that Mary returned in earnest, “Oh who says I’d even try?” she quipped as soon to be Mrs. LaHaye kissed her and asked when the baby was due. She couldn’t remember if she had told Jeanine when she was expecting the baby or not, “In November, around Davion’s birthday . . . I swear I didn’ plan that.” she laughed. It meant she had been pregnant during the shootout, with those hormones raging it was no wonder she had beaten a man to death in the street that fateful night. Oh that question, well in all honesty Jeanine would be the first to be privileged with this information, “Hmm . . . well if it’s a girl we’re screwed, no names picked out for a girl. But Davion wanted t’name our son after his father, I wanted t’name ‘im after my father so . . . Francis Lloyd Murphy, or Frank.” Frank Murphy sounded like someone to be afraid of, he would grow up and be a hell raiser for sure, “Davion says he’ll be six foot nine, three-hundred pounds . . . a mean son of a bitch.” she laughed, “Hell look at him, he’s so lanky, no way he’d make a young’un like that.” speaking of the long and lean marshal he got up from the couch and went to the washroom but upon opening the door their dog Angus came barreling out with the scent of bacon still on the air.
“Dog’s out.” Davion grumbled groggily and the massive black shaggy beast tore through the house with a vigor he only seemed to possess in the morning. In two bounds the wolf hound had skidded into the kitchen and launched himself at the counter between the two women where he snapped up the remainder of the bacon and fled before Mary could beat him with the spatula she had taken up, “ANGUS!!!” the barmaid shrieked, “DAVION! I’m gonna kill your dog!”

[Jeanine Stanton]

- - -

July 16th, 1869
early morning

- - -

It wouldn't take a bonafide genius to realize that the sheriff was a rather taciturn and reserved man, he held his tongue on most occasions and when he did speak, he didn't mince his words. Some people had initially expressed surprise at Jeanine being involved with someone so quiet, much less the town authority given her issues with being bossed around, but the chemistry between the two was undeniable and despite everything somehow they'd just...clicked. Love didn't require an explanation, and now with all they'd been through together and stayed strong in the face of the odds, she wouldn't have it any other way. However, it highly amused her when Mary gave a simple and concise answer concerning her opinion on whether or not Nathan would let her come up with a mushy little nickname for him, her close friend and fiancé weren't all that well acquainted but she suspected the barmaid was right about that.

"Still wanna give him a nice big hug...with your legs?" Jeanine ribbed her companion lightly, a grin working its way onto her features. When she'd first moved to Buffalo Creek about three years ago, she remembered meeting Mary and immediately hitting it off with her, discovering that she'd found a kindred spirit in that they were both blunt, a little crazy, and a lot hilarious. It was all history from there. But she distinctly recalled one of their first little discussions being about the eligible bachelors in town, and the blonde had mentioned the very single and very handsome sheriff, throwing in the line that Jeanine had just quoted. It surprised her that she was able to remember something so obscure so clearly, but now that she was engaged to the aforementioned man, that might've had something to do with it. "Might be a little difficult with a third party in the mix, she pointed out, laughing as she gestured at her friend's swollen belly, "but I can testify that he's very strong." Giving an impish wink as she mimed flexing her non-existent guns, a comical sparkle illuminated in her eyes as she imagined her soon-to-be husband's mortified reaction if he were aware of what they were talking about. They'd said much worse to be honest.

Tilting her head with a smile as the barmaid mentioned the saloon's owner, she was both amused and endeared by the thought that he posed as little Evelyn's grandpa. The older man projected a hard and tough, no-nonsense image, but on the inside he was a softy for the people he loved. "Oh yeah, he'll spoil Ev rotten." She laughed, knowing that the tiny girl tugged on his heartstrings like nobody's business. He really was a big lovable teddy bear if appealed to by the right person, for example, it hadn't taken but five minutes for her to convince him to let she and Nathan hold their wedding reception at the saloon. She fully intended for it to be a party, the alcohol would be flowing and there would be laughing, dancing, and singing if she had anything to say about it. She wanted to have a last chance to take the stage before she took a few week's leave to spend with her husband. Nathan didn't know about it yet, but she'd been working with her father to arrange a trip for the newlywed couple to take a honeymoon trip to the west coast. She was paying for half of it and her dad the other, considering it was quite the pretty penny, and she didn't want any LaHaye to pay a single cent of it.

Her emerald orbs had regained their usual sparkle and shine as she listened to Mary relate details about her pregnancy. She was thoroughly overjoyed for her friend and Davion, they deserved all the best and the same for their children. "Suuure you didn't, you sneaky little towhead," she quipped playfully in response to the barmaid's assurance that she hadn't planned for her due date to be so close to her husband's birthday. The mischievous brunette gave her companion a gentle nudge with her hip, before suddenly realizing aloud, "Yikes, that means you'll be eight months at my wedding. Hope you won't go into labor while I'm walking down the aisle!" The thought was equally cringe-worthy and hilarious, and given her luck, she wouldn't be surprised if something like that actually happened. Rain during a wedding was supposed to be a blessing, but what about the birth of a baby?

Turning and leaning up against the edge of the kitchen counter as the subject matter migrated to baby names, Jeanine arched a brow as the blonde admitted that they didn't have any female names picked out. "Obviously if you have a girl, she should be named after someone beautiful, courageous, intelligent and charming." A pause, as she batted her eyelashes and grinned. "Namely me." She laughed then forced herself to sober up a bit so she could actually listen to Mary's name choices. "Frank," she echoed thoughtfully, stroking her non-existent goatee. "I like that! Very distinguished." An amused smile touched her lips as she heard Davion's speculations about how their child would grow up to look if he was a boy, and admittedly she had a hard time imagining such a big monster coming from two slender people. But before she could make a comment on it, the groggy marshal drifted through again and gave a gruff warning before their enormous dog came barreling into the kitchen, making a leaping nosedive for the bacon. Instead of jumping out of the way, Jeanine quickly moved in front of Mary to shield the pregnant woman's precious belly, then grinned as the blonde gave an angry shriek of outrage. "if you do end up having a huge building of a son, between him and the dog there won't any room to breathe in your house." She raised both brows and laughed.

[Mary McCarty]

---

July 16th, 1869
Early Morning

“Hmm . . .” Mary was eating her words, and they were very stale as she had uttered them a long while ago, that was around the time Bella found out she was carrying Henry’s baby, that had been almost two years ago hadn’t it, she got pregnant in October, “he is a very handsome man . . . more my age too, if I wasn’t married.” she mumbled the last few words under her breath, of course it would have helped if Nathan was not engaged either, “Nathan is far more responsible than Davion, if I’d been with him when he found out I was a wanted outlaw . . . I dunno if he woulda kept me around like Davion has.” Sheriff LaHaye would have surely locked her up in a hot minute. For whatever reason though, Mary swooned for the older, greying, distinguished gentleman type. A man that had been around, whose trials and tribulations had a clear effect on his face as well as his psyche, the way he viewed the world, “Strong . . . Davion is, experienced.” as if on cue the marshal cleared his throat in the next room, to let the ladies know he could hear them. Mary grinned deviously but decided to keep the remainder of her thoughts to herself.

Rolling her eyes with a soft laugh Mary agreed with her friend in regards to their surly boss, “Hell yeah he will, he gives ‘er candy all the time.” she added in a hushed tone so Eve wouldn’t hear and get excited. No saying candy, cookie, ice cream or chocolate near that girl, the c-words Davion liked to call them. To get her hopes all up and then say ‘no’ was just asking for a shit fit of epic proportions, the whole lying on the floor screaming thing was getting a bit overly dramatic. Mary hoped Frankie would be less likely to fly off the handle like that.

Laughing with Jeanine as she doubted Mary’s trying to have the baby on Davion’s birthday she declined the effort to convince the saloon singer that it had indeed been an accident. They didn’t want to try for another baby until Eve was at least two, but it had happened, oh well. She tried so hard to give that man anything and everything he wanted and it baffled her. No one had ever succeeded in making her care so damn much, and she asked for nothing in return, just wanted to see that look on his face when she told him she was expected again. She had not gotten the opportunity with Evelyn, it was a very sweet moment, “I’ve been known t’spice up parties, ya never know.” the barmaid added good naturedly, “I got showed up at the last weddin’ I went to though.” arching both brows she took a sip of her coffee as if to diffuse some unseen tension. Her friend Henry had been drinking again, it could have been humorous, maybe even okay but he was Danny’s best man and to see how badly it hurt the rancher’s feelings made everyone visibly uncomfortable. Bella eventually couldn’t stand the hot flush of her embarrassment on her cheeks and left the wedding without her inebriated husband. If that had been her wedding, she loved him but goddammit Mary would have shot that bastard, or at least shot at him.

Waving a hand at Jeanine’s name suggestion Mary just scoffed, “I’m too lazy t’think up a girl name, if it’s a girl God help ‘er cuz ‘er name’s gonna still be Francis.” and she was not kidding, Frankie for a little girl was cute anyways, she always liked it. Besides from how Eve was turning out their daughters would be tomboys like Momma anyways, “Frank Murphy, sounds like a lawman don’t it?” it would be interesting if their son went into the same line business as his father, “Davion’s father was a sheriff, in Great Falls, Montana. Lotsa Injuns up there.” Mary herself was from Billings, it was a bit more reclusive than Great Falls and there were fewer natives but damn it got cold in the winter, it was twenty below during the blizzard she was born in.

The shaggy, black mass zooming through the house was hell on four huge paws for Mary. When she said she wanted a dog she had been leaning more toward a pit dog, the little bull and terriers that didn’t get any bigger than maybe fifty pounds. Angus tipped the scales at about one-hundred-fifty. Picturing them with their little square-headed bulldog made her smile but Angus was slowly growing on her, the way he sat on the couch was hysterical, not so much when he stretched out and occupied the whole thing. He was in and out of the kitchen in a flash, Davion calling from the washroom that it was not his dog, “Well it ain’t mine!” it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford to feed the dog bacon, so it wasn’t all that bad, Mary would just eat later, maybe some fruit, “Oh lord I know, might need t’move into a bigger house.” at that prospect, Davion stuck his head out of the privy, half his face still covered in shaving cream, “Relax, no time soon.” narrowing his eyes at her he even gave Jeanine a bit of a playful glance before retreating back to the mirror to finish shaving, “Why don’t you grow that mustache I want?” winking to Jeanine she waited for his answer,
“B’cause it’ll be white . . . b’cause I’m old as shit!” pouting her lip Mary still laughed turning back to Jeanine and putting down the spatula she had tried to save the bacon with, “When I first meet ‘im he had a mustache an’ a goatee, it was sexy.” and his hat was brown and he wouldn’t have been caught dead in a suit, the ones he wore almost every day now, fancy shmancy lawman. Pressing her hand to the swell of her belly again Mary looked down at the slobbery plate and mused, “I ain’t had near as much mornin’ sickness this time around like I did with Eve . . . not that I’m complainin.”

[Jeanine Stanton]

- - -

July 16th, 1869
early morning

- - -

Thoroughly amused by the turn their conversation had taken, Jeanine lightly folded her arms over her chest and arched a playfully accusing brow as the barmaid pondered aloud whether or not she still held a little lingering flame for the hunky sheriff. It certainly was not news to her that other women found her fiancé to be attractive, he was a very good-looking man and she would be beyond foolish to think that she was the only one who noticed. It seemed the one who didn't realize it was Nathan himself, he was oblivious to the longing looks he received from other young ladies in town, but to her it definitely was not overlooked. She didn't particularly enjoy lusty female eyes all over her man, but as long as those lusty eyes didn't turn into hungry hands, she could deal. But somehow it was not enraging but entertaining to listen to her close friend rationalize about such things, after all, she wasn't at the crazy over-the-top level of jealousy that Bella seemed to exercise over Henry. Granted, she herself never had to worry about Nathan ever running around on her, not only was he too devoted but he was simply shy around others of the opposite sex. And he was a complete gentlemen...well, usually.

"If you weren't married? How about if I wasn't marrying him? Geez, Mar!" Although she feigned outrage, the saloon singer laughed and shook her head anyhow, for she knew that she'd have said something along those same lines about Davion. He was older, sure, but he too was a handsome man and she would be lying if she said that she hadn't undressed him with her eyes every now and again. It wasn't a crime to look, after all. As Mary continued on and spoke of Nathan's unshakeable adherence to the law conflicting with the blonde's criminal past, she inclined her head and thought that one over for a moment, gently chewing her lower lip. "I don't know, he didn't really say anything to me when I helped a convicted murderer escape his jail cell. Granted, it was an accident, but I think even if it hadn't been he still would've stood by me. But luckily I'm such an angel, we won't ever have to worry about the law coming between us." Flashing a cheeky smile, Jeanine reached up and gave herself a little finger halo, then used her other hand to make little horns pop up into the circle.

It wasn't unusual for her friend to go off on a little spiel about her husband, and this time it began with her admiration of his 'experience.' The innuendo wasn't lost on Jeanine, and almost immediately an impish, knowing little smirk tugged at her full pink lips. She waggled her eyebrows and gave a giggle even as the marshal cleared his throat rather loudly, authoritative even from another room. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew his way around both the jailhouse and the bedroom. "Nathan was mighty green when I met him, but I think I've whipped him into shape since then." The auburn-haired vixen loftily mused aloud, miming cracking a whip and mimicking the sound softly as a wide grin illuminated her youthful features. Oftentimes she wondered how the sheriff would react if he heard the things she said about him to her friends, but then again, would he really be all that surprised? He knew that she always spoke her mind and rarely, if ever, held her tongue. But she was even more curious to know if he divulged such sentiments to Wyatt, though she severely doubted it. The two men were close, but not that close. Still, it was her secret mission to trick them into hugging at the wedding and snap a picture of it.

Deciding to let the subject drop about 'Grandpa Sam' and his candy-giving ways lest Evelyn overhear and go ape, the musician smirked and shook her head slightly as Mary then stated she was known to 'spice up' parties. "I intend for my wedding to be a very sober affair, Marigold, I trust you would expect such from a serious and proper lady like myself." Every word she'd just spoken had been complete and utter bullshit, and this showed in the depths of her shimmering emerald orbs as she ducked and pretended to dodge a blow that she half-expected to come on account of her using the barmaid's full name, which she hated with the burning passion of a thousand suns. Of course Jeanine knew this, but she liked to toss it around every now and again, all in good fun and just for a laugh. Whatever had possessed the former outlaw's parents to name her after a flower, she'd never understand. "Oh, Henry…I'm surprised Bella's not gotten him a bit and reins yet." She laughed at the mention of how the banker had, arm…disrupted his best friend's wedding, though it likely wasn't funny to poor Danny and Darla. Bella had already warned her about such a spectacle occurring at she and Nathan's ceremony, but she couldn't bare to exclude Henry from the festivities, he was her friend and she would feel absolutely terrible. Besides, if he did get tipsy and cause a scene, it wouldn't be her wrath he'd have to worry about, but her mother's - and God himself did not dare mess with that bear of a woman, redheaded and angry as a twister.

For a moment, Jeanine simply blinked and stared at the blonde, a bit dumbfounded at the prospect of a girl called Francis. But clearly Mary was not jesting, and so for once she held her tongue, not wanting to insult her good friend's name choice. After all, it wasn't her decision to make, and she knew that. But still, what a horrible unpretty and masculine name for a little girl! Her green gaze flicked down to the barmaid's swollen stomach as she raised both brows and said, "Well then, honey-child, you better hope to God you've got a pair." She returned her attention to her companion and grinned, giving a light shrug and adding, "You know me, I'd give my own little girl a cutesy name like Ella or Audrey." Running a hand through her silky auburn tresses, the young bride-to-be nodded in agreement to the other woman's deduction that 'Frank Murphy' sounded like a name for a man of the law, though she was surprised that she'd conjecture such a thing so early on, especially when such a profession would require her future son to put his life on the line daily. "Doesn't it scare you to think about your baby doing such a dangerous job? I hope Nathan and I have all girls so I can dress them up and pamper them and never see them wear a sheriff badge." She could just see it now, a little mini version of herself, like a living and breathing doll whose long hair she could brush and teeny body she could put in adorable woven clothing. What could she say, it was a fantasy.

Thoroughly amused by Mary's evident irritation about both the bacon-stealing dog and the prospect of their house seeming a whole lot smaller with a big canine and an even bigger son, Jeanine put on her most innocent schoolgirl expression as Davion poked his head out of the bathroom and tossed both women suspicious, playful glances. Though she wrinkled her nose at the thought of the handsome marshal with a white mustache, not all too impressed by such a sight in her mind's eye. "You're worse than I am with the facial hair, Mar. A goatee? Sheesh. I just like a little bit of stubble along the jaw, that feels so good against my…cheek." The singer cleared her throat, a very light flush coloring her cheeks as she smoothed her piano-playing hands over the material of her form-fitting dress and hoped the barmaid wouldn't point out and ridicule the fact that she'd faltered. While she certainly wasn't the bashful type, the thought of Nathan's strong and stubbled jawline caressing unmentionable areas of her body made her uncomfortably hot in the presence of other people. Reaching around and holding her hair up in a messy bun for a moment to keep it off her lightly perspiring neck, she was grateful for the subject change, and replied, "Now there's a plus. Here's to hoping it stays that way." Just the mere idea of throwing up made her nauseous, she hated the entire concept.

[Mary McCarty]

---

July 16th, 1869
Early Morning

Mary put a shushing finger to her smiling lips when Stanton feigned her jealous rant. Davion was not the jealous type thankfully because working in the saloon, he would be in there every five minutes breaking someone’s head. He was protective, but that was not the same thing. Now that Mary was noticeably pregnant, Sam didn’t let her out on the floor anyways, she would be behind the counter until November, which would bore her to tears. She was never the hormonal type anyways but things ticked her off a bit more when she was confined to the kitchen and bar every day from noon to nine excluding Sundays for the next sixteen weeks. Not something to look forward to.

“Shit, Davion let that one go too.” the barmaid reminded her friend. It took a blunderous team effort to pull of that particular escape for the convicted murderer. She could see her man now, waltzing up to the sheriff’s station as that man walked past him and he reportedly tipped his hat to the gent, bid him a good day and stepped up onto the porch, informing everyone that the building was on fire. After helping to get a dazed Sheriff LaHaye out of the smoldering place he and Wyatt had put the flames out, the walls still scorched black in that corner to this day, “I can honestly say I ain’t done nothin illegal since comin here. Got me a job, made myself out t’be a respectable woman, law’s got no reason t’come after me no more.” her first job had been running the bar and then to care for the wounded marshal who had taken up residence upstairs. But her job requirements had said nothing about sleeping with the man she had been put in charge of. Sam was not all too happy with his new employee for that.

Placing a hand over her chest and looking away a bit wide eyed as if Jeanine’s gesture had astonished her Mary laughed immediately following the entertainer’s admitting to whipping the sheriff into shape. He had been a quiet guy and seemed like such a momma’s boy, Mary would not have been surprised in the slightest if Nathan had been a virgin before falling for Miss LaHaye to be. Aww, that would make Jeanine and Jane sisters-in-law how sweet, and odd as they were complete polar opposites. Mary could relate to Stanton much better than she could her quieter co-worker and sometimes felt a little bad if Jane was left out in the cold during their conversations. Laughing and cutting up well into the midnight hour sometimes, was not Jane’s idea of being a lady, especially when the liquor and smokes came out, “Well you two certainly complete each other, I had no idea that man even knew how t’cut loose an’ just have a good time. Me an’ Davion used t’invite ‘im t’the saloon all the time fer drinks in the evenins but even if he did come all he did was drink tea or coffee.” alcohol was a great way to get to sleep in the evenings and the fact Nathan drank coffee baffled her. She would be up all night if she did that, lord only knows what she would be up to . . .

That signature snort Mary did before bursting out laughing was so obnoxious and unladylike but Jeanine was one of the few people that could make her do it. Hearing the wedding was going to be alcohol free was just too damn funny and Davion even joined in with his chuckle in the next room when he heard his wife snort, “Well if you want a weddin like that you could just get hitched in the courthouse like me an’ Davion did.” nothing special, they didn’t even have rings, those came after the common law marriage agreement at the courthouse. Evelyn was their ring she guessed. The statement had been so funny she barely noticed her friend had called her by her most hated full first name. She would just have to call her Jeanie later, “She prob’ly already has, I hear they get a little . . . crazy in the bedroom.” the barmaid quipped in regards to how Bella handled her unruly husband. It was also fairly well known that on occasion strange noises could be heard from the banker’s office since they were on that subject. Jeanine talked to Bella more than she did so she more than likely knew these things already, “But she keeps ‘im in line, if she wasn’t here I dunno what he’d be up to right now.” she shrugged.

“Davion prob’ly won’t let me name it Francis if it’s a girl, he told me he’d name her Ellen May after his mother.” so the kid had nothing to worry about to be honest, “But I do hope it’s got a pair.” she smiled in earnest. Once again Jeanine was worried about a man of the law getting into trouble with the outlaws as the conversation took a turn, “People die every day, my kids c’n do whatever makes em happy, s’long as it’s legal. I imagine our son would wanna be just like his daddy, n’if he does I won’t stop ‘im. He’d be just as likely t’get shot by someone either way, it’s a dangerous place.” not making her friend feel any better of course but Mary was well known to have that realistic way of viewing things. Davion could get shot tomorrow while apprehending someone, he could also trip and fall onto the tracks and get hit by the train at the station while waiting to head to Denver. Anything could happen but thinking about it and worrying all the time was no way to live.

Showing no sign of knowing exactly what Jeanine was talking about on the subject of stubble, Mary ate a few forkfuls of egg, saying more to herself than her friend, “Hmm, I know what ya mean.” Davion came out of the washroom, his shirt still mostly unbuttoned, dabbing at his face with a clean towel and turned to his wife who gestured at her ear where he had missed a spot. Being married was not just a husband and wife thing, it was a team effort between good friends that were more than friends, “Sorry hon I can’t tuck yer shirt in for ya t’day.” Mary winked at the marshal and then smiled deviously at Jeanine, “Good, cuz that usually makes me late for work.” he laughed and walked into the parlor where Eve had snuggled up next to the big shaggy dog and was slowly getting a little more active for the day, “He needs a haircut.” the barmaid noted aloud, “You want anything, I could make more food?”