Harvest in Bluedale

"James, that's not A Tale of Two Cities, is it?" drawled Michael Donnelly in the smarmy tone he usually saved for Miss Melson.

"Yes it is, and no, you can't see it." James clutched the book tightly in both hands as he took his place behind Michael and his sidekicks in the boys' line. "It's a first-edition copy. My dad brought it out from New York."

"Oooh, a first edition copy!" said Beau, a step behind Michael literally and figuratively as usual. "Think it reads better that way?"

"I doubt if you could read it either way, Beau," snapped Mary Ellen from the girls' line.

"Who asked you?" Beau retorted. Then he turned to James. "Michael's got dibs on that for the end of year project," he announced.

"Yeah, you'd better find another book," Michael said. "No way you're gonna top me on that one."

"Miss Melson said we could both read it," James said loftily, opting to pass over in silence that he doubted if Michael even knew what the two cities were and wishing their teacher would come open the door already.

"Miss Melson said!" Jack, the third member of the trio that had been making life miserable for James for about as long as he could remember, repeated. "James, if you weren't always hiding behind her skirt, you'd have been dead meat long ago, you know that?"

"Behind her skirt?" Beau retorted. "He's probably under it when we're not around!"

All the other boys and several of the girls laughed. The loudest laughs of all came from Dara McManus, who as usual was at the head of the girls' line. When she did catch her breath, Dara told Michael, "You boys had best watch it, you know. You don't want to make James cry and get in trouble again."

"Yeah, she's right," Michael warned his pals. "For a girl, you're pretty smart, Dara."

"Thank you!" Dara gave an exaggerated curtsey that had most of the other girls rolling their eyes or giggling - all except Mary Ellen, who knew the gesture was not a joke.

"Don't worry, James, I won't let them make you cry again," Michael went on, overlooking the fact that James was staring resolutely at the door, his eyes dry. "You can save that for when I get an A and you get an F."

"We'll see," James said under his breath, as at long last Miss Melson threw open the door to the one-room schoolhouse and bade the pupils welcome.

"You'll see all right," Dara needled. With a toss of blonde locks over her shoulder, she pranced to her seat at the head of the class, where James knew Miss Melson had placed her in order to keep an eye on her.

All the other kids knew Dara herself thought it a matter of favoritism and felt she deserved it.

Dara felt she deserved every form of favoritism. Like all the boys in Bluedale, James had once been bedazzled by her steel-blue eyes and expensive frocks, special-ordered from Chicago, and that long golden hair her servant girl always had looking its best. And, like most of them, he'd gotten over it thanks to her much less attractive personality.

Though he had long since ceased caring what Dara thought of him, James couldn't help but wonder why she always tried so hard to get in Michael's good graces. Michael and his gang wanted nothing to do with girls in general and Dara especially, yet scarcely a day went by when she didn't laugh uproariously at yet another unfunny joke or encourage them when they beat up on the other boys or insulted the girls. It made no sense to James. But it did make him glad he had long ago lost his affection for Dara.

Miss Melson clapped her hands. "All right, everyone, I know it's hot and we all want to get out of here. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can leave!" She was right; both windows were wide open, but there was no wind to balance off the late spring sun and the little room felt like a bathhouse without baths. "I trust you have all chosen a novel for the end of year project," Miss Melson went on. "Here's what I expect you to do once you finish your book..."

James looked on obediently, even though he was the only pupil who already knew all about the project. Unbeknownst to the other students, Miss Melson had tapped him as a teacher's aide, and he would be helping her to review the other book reports. So he was able to shrug it off when Dara turned and hissed at him. "James! You'll feel bad when Michael gets an A, and you get an F!"

Mary Ellen was not so forgiving. When Miss Melson dismissed class later that afternoon and the two friends stepped out into the hazy desert sunshine, she finally asked Dara what she'd been wondering all through the lesson. "Dara, why on Earth are you taking Michael's side on... on anything? You know what a bully he is, and you also know James is a lot smarter. There's no way he'll get an F and Michael probably won't get an A either."

"Oh, James is practically a girl, Mary Ellen!" Dara retorted, giving a flirty look over her shoulder at Michael, Beau, and Jack, who as usual looked like they were plotting something. James had stayed behind to talk to Miss Melson as usual; the other two boys were giving the trio a wide berth as always. "It's like my mother always says, a man who can't walk in a man's shoes, why respect him when he doesn't even respect himself?"

"What makes you think James doesn't respect himself?"

"If he did, he wouldn't be such a bratty little so-and-so! I mean, Michael and them, they know what's what. They're gonna be real men when school is done. And why do you care, anyway? Don't you hate boys?"

"Yeah, but not James," Mary Ellen said. "He's a sweetheart."

"That's the problem, all right. Like I said, he might as well be a girl."

"Well, what's wrong with that?"

"Mary Ellen, just because we're girls doesn't mean we have to pretend we're equal, you know. A woman's got her place and a man's got his, and Michael and them know it." Another look behind her revealed that they were still following at a safe distance, snickering at each other about something. She wondered what but she knew they'd never tell while Mary Ellen was around.

"The world is changing, Dara. Girls can go to college now too, you know."

"I'd like to see you convince your father to send you!"

"So would I," Mary Ellen sighed. "I've been meaning to talk to Miss Melson about that, actually. Maybe I could ask James first. Is he out yet?" She looked over her shoulder to see he was, keeping a safe distance from Michael and his pals as always.

As they had reached Dara's house, the largest and most beautiful in Bluedale, both girls stopped and lingered on the well-trimmed front lawn. "Go ahead and make a fool of yourself if you must," Dara told her friend. "But I don't want to be around for that. It's time for my afternoon bath anyway."

"My afternoon bath," Beau mimicked in a posh mock-English accent as the trio strolled by. "Just how many baths do you take a day, Dara?"

"Wouldn't you dirty little boys like to know!" Dara flashed them a saucy grin as she squeezed Mary Ellen's hand goodbye. In a graceful whirl of skirts, she retreated into the big house.

Mary Ellen lived around the corner. Since James lived in the other direction from the same corner, she lingered on the McManus' front lawn in wait for him. As usual, she ignored Michael, Beau, and Jack, who were all still laughing at some rude retort they hadn't quite had the nerve to say to Dara. So she took no notice of them when they ducked down to stay out of sight from Dara's parlor and snuck around behind the house.

"Hi, James," Mary Ellen said with a smile that he did not return as he approached. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Why would you want to ask me anything when you hate me?" James asked with a wry grin.

"I don't hate - oh, has Dara been telling you I still hate boys? I don't, not really. I mean, Michael and his pals, yeah. But I never meant you. You're not all noise like them."

"Well, thanks, I guess." James finally allowed a smile, albeit a rather sad one.

"Sure. Anyway. I was just telling Dara, I want to ask Miss Melson about going to college. Any advice?"

"Well, I know the state university takes women now. They have for a few years, actually. And back East there are - "

"Forget about back East!" Mary Ellen said. "I'll be lucky to convince my Pa to let me go to college here. But do you think Miss Melson would help me with applying?"

"I know she would," James said. "It's great that you're thinking about this. We'll just have to make sure my ma's not around when we talk to Miss Melson."

"Hadn't even thought of that!" Mary Ellen laughed, as they slowly began strolling to the corner. James' mother was the teacher for the younger kids in town. She got the schoolhouse in the morning, Miss Melson got it in the afternoon, and Mary Ellen remembered all too well from her primary school years what an absolute traditionalist she was when it came to a woman's place in the world. "Tell me, James, just how did you get so open minded with a mother like that?"

"Well," James began, sounding for all the world like he didn't even know the answer himself.

But if he did, it was to remain a mystery to Mary Ellen for the time being. As they reached the edge of the McManus' property, they both saw it at once. Michael, Beau, and Jack, peeping into what Mary Ellen knew (and James guessed, correctly) was Dara's bedroom window. "Oh, that's not right!" James said, and he set off after them.

"James, wait!" Mary Ellen tried to pull him back by his arm. "They'll kill you!"

"Least I can say I tried to stop 'em!" James said. As they approached the window, he said to the other boys, "Get away from there, you perverts!"

"Get lost, you little chowderhead!" Beau said, keeping his gaze fixed on the window.

"Yeah, this ain't none of your business!" added Jack.

"And what's in there's none of yours!" James, with Mary Ellen still on his heels and hoping to head off a confrontation, was fearlessness itself as he stepped up behind Beau, the nearest of the trio, and jumped on his back. "I said get away from there!"

"Aw, you little..." Whatever epithet Beau had in mind, it remained unsaid as Michael and Jack took one each of James' arms and pulled them off. They threw James to the ground, but not before a well-placed kick caught Beau in the face and he went sprawling in the dirt as well.

"Boys, please!" Mary Ellen wasn't even sure why she bothered to say anything. But she stood aside as Beau stumbled to his feet and Michael and Jack got busy punching and kicking James. He was screaming in pain - but not crying, Mary Ellen noticed - when Mrs. McManus' trademark gasp split the air.

All five of the kids looked up to see Dara's mother, her face as immaculately made up as ever, glaring down at them. "Well, I never!" she hissed. "Invade my daughter's privacy like this, will you? And you, Mary Ellen!"

"No, Mrs. McManus!" Mary Ellen protested, "James was only - "

"Enough!" Mrs. McManus snapped. "I'll be having a word with all five of your mothers, and I'll expect an apology from each of you!"

"You first, James," said Michael, as James finally managed to get to his feet, still too groggy to speak up for himself. "You see, ma'am, my pals and me, we saw James here peeping in, and - "

"That's a lie!" Mary Ellen yelled, as loudly as she could.

"Enough out of you, missy!" roared Mrs. McManus. "I know how good girls are at lying, my dear, I was one myself once! James, I'd whip you myself if I didn't know what you're in for when your mother hears about this. And shame on you, Mary Ellen, for defending him. How do you know he's not peeping on you too?"

Through all this, James hung his head and said nothing. He'd been down this road before.

"I'm going to write a letter to both of your mothers, and may the Lord have mercy on you when they read them!" Mrs. McManus seethed. "You three, thank you, but get off my property!"

For once, Michael, Jack and Beau did as they were told. Mary Ellen and James endured a final glare from Mrs. McManus before she turned and went back inside.

Once they were alone, James turned to Mary Ellen and broke his silence. "I'm sorry I got you into this."

"Oh, James!" Mary Ellen wanted to throw her arms around him and squeeze him tighter than her favorite doll. But she settled for a conciliatory smile. "Don't worry, my ma and pa know how she is, they won't take that letter seriously."

"My mom probably won't either." James dusted off his clothes as best he could. "If I get home first, she'll ask why I'm all mussed up and I'll tell her what really happened. She knows Michael and the guys well enough to know I'm telling the truth."

"That's good," Mary Ellen said.

"But I'd better get home now. Thanks for trying to stop them." James gave her hand a squeeze, and limped off toward home.

Mary Ellen lingered under the window and watched him go, and her heart swelled with admiration and more. Was it love? Her mother had always told her one day she'd feel it for someone, after all.

The squeak of the window opening snapped Mary Ellen out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Dara swathed in what looked like a night dress. "Did they get James good?" she asked.

"Dara!" As well as she knew her dear friend, Mary Ellen was astounded. "Those horrible boys tried to spy on you in your own bath and James stopped them, and you want to know if they got James? What is wrong with you?"

"Boys will be boys! Mother always says so. And who could blame them, wanting a good look at me? Now, how badly did they beat James up?"

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Mary Ellen spun on her heel and stormed off for home.

EIGHT YEARS LATER

Beau and Jack were just back from the roundup, and Old Man Bernstein had rewarded them with a day off. Michael had been able to use his father's clout to avoid the trip, but that meant no time off at the ranch. That was just as well, he mused as he hoisted yet another bale of hay up onto the storage shelves in the barn. It meant when Dara came by in her latest, frilliest dress yet, she had only him to admire as he worked.

Not that she showed any sign of being impressed, but Michael knew that gleam in her eye as she stood in the barn door and lectured him. "Father says I am to ask Mr. Bernstein directly about the October numbers," she said.

After stashing away the latest bale, Michael put his hands on his hips to show off his rippling muscles. "You're the one dressed to go in the front door, Dara, not me. But I wouldn't be so sure Old Man Bernstein would trust a girl with any numbers."

Dara giggled like a schoolgirl. "Oh, you! Where are your boys, anyway?"

"Probably in town getting drunk, the lucky duckies. Some of us gotta work, you know."

"You sure they're not working up some prank to play on Bernstein? What was it last year, toppling the privies? Didn't they know the family doesn't use those?"

"Yeah, they're not much on learnin', are they?" Michael cringed at the memory; no need to give Dara the satisfaction of knowing who'd had to clean up that disgusting mess. "No, this year, we're gonna get Bernstein good. You know what he cares about this time of year - getting his latest shipment off on the train before the winter and the feed shortage. Looks like whoever scheduled the harvest ball this year - wait, was that your folks?"

"They're on the committee," Dara said loftily. "That's all you need to know."

"Yeah, fine. Anyway, whoever did it, they forgot the Laramie Pacific stops on Saturday afternoon, and Old Man Bernstein already gave us all time off to go to the ball. He's expecting us to herd his stock onto the train last thing before we go get cleaned up for the party. But if the train's late..."

Dara laughed. "That'll put him in his place, won't it? I want in, Michael!"

"Why? Bernstein and your pa..."

"Oh, Father's always saying how uppity he is, how he's out to take over the whole town, and he's got to be put in his place. Let me help, Michael, it'll be just like old times!"

Michael could only just resist smirking to know Dara still thought she'd ever been in with their gang. But he and the guys could use all the help they could get. "Yeah, all right," he said. "Here's what we're thinking. We get an old suit of clothes somewhere and stuff it with hay and rags to make it look like a body, and we lay it on the track. The engineer sees it and has to stop the train."

"Maybe he can't stop it in time, and he thinks he killed a man." Dara's eyes lit up.

"Or maybe he does stop it in time, and realizes it's a fake," Michael continued. "Either way, there's a delay and the engineer is upset, and Bernstein will have to deal with him on his own because we'll all be at the ball."

Dara laughed so hard she had to bend over in a most unladylike fashion, which gave Michael a fleeting look down her bodice. "You boys have come a long way since the smoking cabbage days. Remember that?"

"My fingers smelled like burnt cabbage for a week," Michael said, remembering well how they'd stuffed bits of burning cabbage in the keyholes of all the houses in town that were dark during a long-ago harvest ball.

"Mine too, but of course Mother and Father never suspected little ole me," Dara said. "I figured that'd teach 'em to tell me I was too young to go to the ball. The only bad thing about it was, some jerk did the same thing to my house. At least we weren't the only ones acting out, huh?"

Michael turned around and pretended to have a bad cough; there was no other way to avoid laughing and revealing that he was the culprit.

"You all right, Michael?" Dara finally took a few careful steps into the barn, taking care not to step in anything in her freshly dyed shoes.

"Yeah, fine, thanks," he said. "The hay, you know. By the way, you got a date yet for the harvest ball?"

"Dream on, boy. But I might save you the waltz."

"I'll take it."

"Mind you, I say might, Michael. But do let me know when we can all get together to make that dead body. I can even supply one of Father's old suits, he'll never miss it."

"I will, thanks. You'd best go talk to Old Man Bernstein now. This time of the afternoon he hasn't had much to drink yet."

* * *

"All right, everyone!" Mary Ellen could still scarcely believe she'd found her authoritative voice and it commanded the kids' respect like Miss Melson had with her and her friends - but she had, and it did. She clapped her hands and the kids snapped to attention. "Remember your essays for Monday, 'What All Saints Day Means to Me'." With the stern smile she was still trying to perfect, she added, "And save your pranks for after school, understood?"

"Yes, Miss Fournier!" came the chorus of voices.

Barbara Donnelly, Michael's youngest sister and the smarm of the class, raised her hand. "Miss Fournier," she asked without waiting to be called on, "Will you be coming to the harvest ball?"

"I believe the whole town will be there," Mary Ellen said. "I don't intend to miss it."

"Is it true that--" Edward piped up without raising his hand as usual.

"Edward, you've got to raise your hand!" Mary Ellen said more gently than she was feeling, for she had little doubt as to what he was going to ask was true.

"Sorry, ma'am." He raised his hand.

"Go ahead."

"Is it true that you and Miss McManus once threw a burning cabbage in the window of old man Anderson's house on All Hallows' Eve?"

"That does sound like something Miss McManus and her friends would have done when they were your age," Mary Ellen said. "But I'm not aware of her actually doing it, and I certainly didn't do it. We were all too scared of Mr. Anderson, even then." Before Edward could interrogate her further, she said, "Class dismissed!"

As the kids scrambled to their feet and said goodbye for the day, Mary Ellen looked up to see her colleague standing in the doorway. "Hello, Mrs. Ramsey," she said. Though they were now colleagues, her former teacher would always be Mrs. Ramsey to her. In three months since she'd taken over teaching the older kids, there had been no invitation to call her Julia anyway. "How's James?"

"You likely know better than I, Mary Ellen. I rarely see him or his father these days, the bank keeps them both so busy. He does often ask after you, you know."

"Oh, that's lovely to hear," Mary Ellen said. "I was hoping we'd be seeing more of each other once we both came back to town. So what can I do for you?"

"I'm afraid I have an uncomfortable request. A pupil's father - I shan't say which one - has asked me to have a word with you about filling the girls' heads with thoughts of college."

"Guilty as charged, and I shan't be dissuaded from continuing to do that." Mary Ellen swallowed hard and tossed her dark locks over her shoulder defiantly, hoping against hope the older woman wouldn't detect her intimidation. "It's a new world, Mrs. Ramsey, and you can see college didn't turn me into a shrew, or even into a man for that matter."

"With all due respect, my dear, it certainly gave you a sense of entitlement to things that are well beyond a lady's place in this world. I do not want to see the next generation of young girls being led astray about what they can and cannot do."

"No one is asking you to teach them any such thing. Your pupils are awfully young to be worrying about college anyway, girls and boys alike. Mine are not."

"Mary Ellen, I order you to take this matter more seriously!" Mrs. Ramsey snapped. "You are causing real strife among the families of Bluedale, and I want it stopped. We are a conservative community and your rabble rousing is not welcome here."

"Encouraging all my pupils, and not just half of them, to realize their full potential is not rabble rousing. It's progress, and Bluedale could use all of that it can get."

"Must I have your pupil's concerned father confront you directly, young lady? I do not think you will enjoy that experience. That is why I hoped to remain discreet about who he is."

"If he's got something to say to me, by all means let him say it." Mary Ellen picked up her satchel and buttoned up her coat to make it clear the conversation was over. "I trust he knows where and when to find me."

"Do not say I didn't warn you, Mary Ellen," Mrs. Ramsey hissed at her younger colleague as she made her way between the benches to the door. "This gentleman is not someone to be trifled with."

Mary Ellen couldn't help smirking at the threat. Did the old fool really think she didn't know the "gentleman" in question was Barbara and Michael's father?

Mary Ellen had been very familiar with Roger Donnelly and his views on a woman's place - in the world, in Bluedale, in his home - since she was Barbara's age at least. The first, and only, time Michael's long-suffering mother had prevailed upon her husband to make him invite the girls at school to his birthday party was among the ugliest memories of growing up that remained seared upon her mind even now.

Even before then, she'd heard Dara's mother refer to Mr. Donnelly haughtily as "new money of the crassest sort" more than once. She hadn't had the faintest idea what that meant. Neither, though she had done her best to convince Mary Ellen otherwise, had Dara. "It means he's got bad taste," Dara had advised her loftily.

"Bad taste? You mean like liver?"

"No, silly! 'Taste' in what to decorate your house with, and how to dress your wife. Next time you see Mrs. Donnelly, look at her frocks. They're not beautiful and graceful like mine and Mother's, they're more like what a man thinks a pretty woman ought to look like. Especially a woman who... well, you know."

"No, Dara, I don't know. What are you talking about?"

Though they were alone in Dara's opulently decorated room, Dara had leaned in to deliver the secret in a whisper. "Ladies of the evening. The world's oldest job? Mother thinks that's how Mr. Donnelly earned his money, you know. No one knows for sure."

Mary Ellen had only had the barest idea what Dara had been referring to. But it fit with what she'd already known about Michael's father. It was true that the source of his riches - second only to the McManuses in the whole valley - were a mystery to one and all. Wherever he'd gotten the money, he'd already had it when he arrived in Bluedale years ago, during the war between the states, having sent a sub to fight in his place, with the first of three wives in tow. Despite settling on a barren claim on the edge of Bluedale where just about nothing could grow, he and his many children had never wanted for anything, nor had they had any reservations about flaunting their wealth throughout the little town. This made him begrudgingly popular among the business owners of town, even as tongues wagged about where all that money came from.

His barren land was good for one thing: a sprawling, three-storey mansion that looked like it had been designed by a child, having been added on bit by bit as his riches and his family grew. Mary Ellen had always found it intimidating rather than attractive. At that long-ago birthday party, she had learned the interior was even more so. "What did I tell you?" Dara had said to her while they waited for a servant to cut the cake. "Gilded everything. Probably just fake gold leaf, too." Mary Ellen hadn't recalled Dara ever saying anything about it, but she'd had to admit her friend was right. The entire sitting room had looked dipped in gold paint, with droplets of red and blue spattered everywhere.

"Don't be gettin' any ideas about marryin' into any of this," Michael had told them both when he'd spotted them looking around the room. "My old man has his standards."

"As if we needed his money!" Dara had laughed. There'd been no need to add her father would never allow such a pairing anyway.

"Yeah, well, we don't need our daughters lookin' anything like you neither," Michael had retorted. "Like my dad always says, you can teach a beanpole like you to curtsey and fix you a drink, but you can't make her grow big tits."

"Michael, that is utterly disgusting!" Mary Ellen had said.

"Oh, he's right, little lady," came an older male voice, and Mary Ellen had turned around to be treated to her first close look at the redoubtable Roger Donnelly, a lit cigar in his hand. "Like mother, like daughter. Just you wait till Michael's sisters blossom. And I won't have him settling for less, I'll have both your fathers understand."

As the accursed memory roared through her mind, Mary Ellen did her best to avoid remembering exactly how old she'd been. Far too young to have to listen to that sort of thing, that much was for certain. If that cretin wanted a fight, she resolved, then bring it on.

She didn't recall much else about that party. One thing she did remember was that James had been absent. It made all too much sense that Michael would have found a way to avoid inviting him, and she'd been more than a little bit jealous at the excursion. But the following Monday at school, James had told her he had simply intercepted the invitation and burned it before his parents knew anything about it. "We both know how I'd have been treated, you know," he'd told her. "Even if Michael had left me alone, his old man... you can guess what he thinks of boys like me."

Now as then, Mary Ellen could only guess what that might be. But, it occurred to her as she made her way down Main Street in the dying autumn sunlight, there was little doubt James would be a staunch ally against both his mother and Mr. Donnelly. On that thought, her eyes were drawn to the upper floor of the bank, just up the block. A bright glow held court there, indicating her old friend and his father were probably still at work. Mary Ellen was in no mood to retire to her cozy but lonely two-room cabin, and hadn't she just been wishing she could catch up with him?

She could much too easily imagine his mother scoffing at how unladylike it was; but that only encouraged Mary Ellen to cross the street and ask the teller to send word upstairs that she'd like to meet with James.

She scarcely had time to make herself comfortable on the green velvet settee in the lobby before her old friend came bounding downstairs. "Mary Ellen, thank you!" he said with a grin in lieu of a formal greeting.

"You're very welcome, but whatever for?" She stood up and welcomed him in a fond embrace, not caring a bit what anyone present might think of the spectacle.

"You gave me an excuse to leave a bit early," he said, giving her an affectionate squeeze that refreshed a number of old ideas in Mary Ellen's head. "It's been an awfully long day, and I hate how it's usually dark before Father and I can leave these days. When the clerk gave us your message, Father said why don't you two go out and have dinner somewhere, and he'll shut up the office and ease things with Mother. So, how about it, my friend?"

"I'd love to. Breckenridge's?"

"Are you sure you want to give them your business?" James looked concerned as he pulled his coat on for the walk.

"Seeing as I can't do that under any other circumstances, why not take this opportunity?" Breckenridge's was the finest restaurant in Bluedale, and like all reputable restaurants of the day, women were welcome only for dinner and only then with a male escort.

"My point exactly," James said. "I imagine if I were a woman, I wouldn't want them getting my money - or any man's money on my behalf - until I was allowed there in my own right."

"I appreciate that, James. But I suppose I feel we should save our outrage for battles we might actually win. I mean, they're saying the state might give us the vote next year, and I've been focused on doing my part for that."

"Father and I are working on an amicus curiae brief for the suffragists," James revealed with a proud smile. "Please don't tell my mother, all right?"

"I won't, and thank you!" Mary Ellen sighed. "No offense intended, James, but sometimes I wonder just how you grew up to be who you are after living in that house."

"It's because I grew up with her," James said. "Seeing her always getting up in everyone else's business with her old-fashioned nonsense, and especially the way she tried to talk you out of college... I figured I'd rather be part of the future than try to stop it from happening, you know? I hope someday she sees the light, anyway."

"Do you expect that?"

"You know her well enough to know the answer to that, my friend." He gave her hand a playful squeeze, and not for the first time, Mary Ellen found herself wishing he wouldn't let go.

He did, but it was just a short walk to the restaurant, whose window featured an announcement of a snap-dragon tournament on All Hallows Eve. "Just how did that become a thing?" Mary Ellen wondered aloud as James held the door open for her. "I've read in England it's a Christmas tradition."

"Well, we never quite keep things the same over here, do we?" James said. "Must remember to stay away from here that night, too. Just think of all the brandy that'll be consumed!"

"Aren't you going to the harvest ball anyway?"

"Haven't got a date yet." He gave her a tender look, and Mary Ellen felt her heart leap - he was going to ask her to be his date! - but the host appeared before he could.

"Evening Mr. Ramsey, Miss Fournier," said the host, whose name Mary Ellen couldn't recall offhand. "Table for two?'

"If you please," James said. He was too much the gentleman to take her hand as they made their way to a table near the middle of the room. Mary Ellen consoled herself with the wonderful smell of roast beef and spices and fresh-baked bread, and the likelihood that he wouldn't forget what he'd been about to say.

She was prepared for a skirmish over whether or not the waiter would serve her any wine. But to her surprise, he appeared with two glasses as soon as they were settled. He poured a tiny bit for James, and poured it for both of them once he'd nodded his approval. "They know my politics here," James said as soon as they were alone, "and Father and I bring in plenty of business."

"Good for you, James." She held up her glass and they clinked and took a sip. "You know, I hate to have to bring up your mother again, but she just accosted me this afternoon..."

"I know, telling the girls they can go to college too," he said with a nod. "I'm sorry, Mary Ellen. But if she couldn't stop you, there's not much she can do to stop anyone else."

"It's not her I'm worried about. She says someone's father has been complaining. She won't say who, but..."

"Mr. Donnelly, no doubt."

"Word's out, is it?"

"Well, not exactly. But I figured with Michael's sister in your class... what's her name again?"

"Barbara. And yes, she's every bit as much of an apple-polisher as Michael was. That reminds me, have you seen much of the terrible trio since we came home?"

"From a safe distance a couple of times," James said. Michael would never need to work a day in his life thanks to his father. But out of sheer boredom, he had taken a job as a cowhand at Old Man Bernstein's ranch alongside his two friends who'd worked there ever since they'd finished school. "I hear Beau and Jack never let him forget they have seniority over him."

"And he probably never lets them forget he could quit tomorrow if he wants to," Mary Ellen added. "Imagine being our age and knowing you never had to work again."

"I wouldn't trade that for having to be him, though. Poor jerk doesn't even seem to have any ambition at all, really. Anyway, Mary Ellen, I wouldn't worry much about his old man. What can he do but make an even bigger fool of himself than the whole town already knows he is?"

"I hate to think of what he might do to Barbara, though, if there's any spark of ambition in her. But she's too young to tell if there really is, or at least I can't tell yet."

"Well, look, if I can hold my mother off in any way, I will," James said. "But enough of all that. We haven't had a real conversation since we've both been back in town, and I've been really hoping to catch up. How've you been?"

The meal passed by most agreeably, neither of them ever glancing at the grandfather clock by the kitchen door as well over an hour tick-tocked by and other parties came and went and the sun vanished outside. Mary Ellen knew the ways of the world - and especially the ways of Bluedale - enough to know simply joining an old friend for a meal would have tongues wagging for the rest of the week. But, as she even told James at one point in the long conversation, she and her friends at the university had learned enough about living their own lives and not being slaves to other people who talked too much.

For all that, she hadn't quite forgotten the near miss back when they'd first come in. So she was relieved and thrilled when James finally remembered as well, as he set down his fork on his empty plate. "I was going to ask before, but we were interrupted... would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the harvest ball?"

"I'd love to!" She longed to reach across the table and take his hand, but she'd already given the town gossipers quite enough for one evening, thank you very much. "Heavens, I'm glad you didn't forget, James."

"There was no risk of that." James waved to the waiter for the check. As he drew his wallet out, he added, "Might I also walk you home?"

"I'd like that very much."

It was dark and chilly outside, and most of the shops were closed. The saloon across the street was not. Unbeknownst to James and Mary Ellen, the subjects of their conversation were enjoying a round of whiskey at a table near the window. Beau spotted them first. "I'll be damned if it ain't that dandy James," he grumbled.

Michael turned to see. "And Mary Ellen! You know what that bitch has been telling my sister? Some crap about getting an education of her own, 'stead of finding the right man to support her?"

"Your old man won't let anyone forget it," Jack reminded him. "We ought to get them both good, once and for all."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Michael set his glass down a bit too hard on the table, which at least captured his two friends' attention. "Got a visit at the ranch from Dara McAnus today, and she wants in on our train prank."

"McAnus!" Jack laughed uproariously at the nickname they'd been using since their days in James' mother's class. "I'd forgot all about that!"

"You just said it the other day," Michael reminded him.

"Bitch still doesn't know her place after all these years?" Beau said.

"'Course she doesn't, but who cares about that?" Michael grinned. "She offered to give us one of her old man's suits to use for the body, and you know what that means, don't you?"

"Oh Gawd!" Jack roared with laughter. "If anyone figures out where the suit came from, they'll think she did it!"

"That's great," Beau said. "But I still wish she'd stay out of our business and let the men be men."

"Just what I was thinking this afternoon," Michael said. "So I say we let McAnus bring that suit and think she's one of the boys one last time, and then we all show her just who the men really are."

Jack's laughter was gone. "You ain't sayin'..."

"Well, it ain't like she's gonna give it up on her own, is it?" Beau said. "She wants to play with us, I say we play with her."

"I said it, you didn't," Michael reminded him. "My idea, I go first."

"There's enough of her to go around," Beau retorted. "And it'll teach her a bigger lesson that way, won't it?"

"You just remember I got her first," Michael ordered. Turning to Jack, he added, "And you, too."

"Yeah, sure." Jack waved to the bartender. "You guys want another round?"

* * *

Mary Ellen did not care for the ladies' tearoom around the corner from Breckenridge's. If the message it sent that women were delicate flowers who needed their own private sanctuary wasn't bad enough, the fact that Dara's mother had founded it and still owned it was worse still. But it was the only place in town where a woman could go for lunch unaccompanied by a man, and there was business to be discussed with Mrs. Ramsey, who of course loved the place.

As she half-listened to Mrs. Ramsey's latest outrages on the walk through town, Mary Ellen had to admit privately that she was in the mood for some strictly feminine company anyway. Last night after arriving home from dinner with James, she had made very good use of the ivory contraption she had bought in Paris on her grand tour last summer. Once again she was dying to compare notes with the other young women of town - surely she wasn't the only one!

There was no cause to worry about oversharing with Mrs. Ramsey, as she clearly had no idea her son had spent the previous evening with Mary Ellen. "I've been meaning to tell you, Mary Ellen, since you asked after James yesterday, I really wish he would call upon you. He came home awful late last night, and it was all I could do not to slap him silly!"

"And he didn't tell you what he'd been up to?" Mary Ellen wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"I didn't ask. Didn't want to know. He needs a lady to gentle him down before it's too late. And he agrees with your nonsense about girls going to college and voting and all that stuff. I don't approve, but at least you two'd get along."

"I suppose we would, yes." Mary Ellen couldn't quite hide her smile as they arrived at the parlor and signed in.

She cast a furtive glance around the room, brightly colored in pastels and ruffles everywhere, in hope of finding one of the few other professional ladies around her age to compare notes with. But as usual, she appeared to be the only one under forty in the room.

Worse yet, Dara and her mother were just sitting down at their table near the far corner of the room. Far from the dust and noise of the street, a respectable distance from the kitchen, it was literally their table, perpetually reserved for them and any favored guests of theirs. To Mary Ellen's chagrin, they had no guests today and Dara looked up just in time. "Mary Ellen! Mrs. Ramsey!" she called out with a demure wave. "Come join us!"

"Oh, gee, Dara, we've got school business to discuss," Mary Ellen said, more apologetically than she felt.

"Nonsense, dear, that can wait," Mrs. Ramsey countered. "We'd love to join you, if that's all right with you, Ortense?"

Mary Ellen consoled herself with the prize of having at long last learned Mrs. McManus' first name. No wonder she'd guarded that information so carefully all these years!

"I trust you have both warned the children against the usual pranks?" Mrs. McManus said as soon as all were seated. "I do not want to see any wagons overturned or gates off the hinges. Then I'll have people begging me to lend them my staff to clean up their messes. And I scarcely need to mention the stink of those cabbage bombs." She gave Mary Ellen a stern look as she said it. "I hope your friends have at least grown out of that."

"I had nothing to do with that, and I avoid Michael and his pals as much as I can now," Mary Ellen said.

"Oh, Mother," Dara said with the girlish giggle she'd never lost. "They're only jokes, and Michael and his boys don't know any better. You know that."

"My point exactly," her mother retorted. "You know better than to have anything to do with those animals, don't you?"

"Haven't I always, Mother?"

It was all Mary Ellen could do not to spew her tea all over her companions. But she managed.

"I'm told all the girls at the mill are planning on dressing up like witches to hand out sweetmeats to the children again," Mrs. McManus went on. "That is bad enough, although I suppose if it keeps the children in line..."

"It did last year," Mrs. Ramsey said. "It was the talk of my classroom for the week afterward, and the poor souls who had been caught misbehaving were crushed. They won't miss out this year. In fact, I volunteered to bake some cakes for the ladies to hand out to the ones who can stay out of trouble. Promised them we'd let them carve some pumpkins to display if they all behave themselves, too."

"I should hope that will work," Mrs. McManus sniffed. "Just where did all this silly pumpkin-carving business come from anyway?"

"It's an ancient Celtic tradition," Mary Ellen said. "Only over there they used turnips. The scary faces were to frighten off a mythical monster named Stingy Jack." She opted to keep to herself that she had volunteered to join the procession of witches.

To her surprise, Mrs. Ramsey kept that information to herself as well. "That's enough, Mary Ellen," she said curtly. "Just let the young'uns enjoy their silly games, why don't we?"

"Book learning rots the feminine mind all right," Mrs. McManus concurred. "Dara, I hope you won't be getting mixed up in any of this nonsense."

"Oh, Mother, we'll be busy with the harvest ball, won't we?"

"I'll be busy making sure everything is set just so for the guests, yes. We both know you will just be there pretending to be in charge as always, my dear."

"I'd take on some responsibility if you'd let me," Dara sounded defeated for once.

"I didn't raise my daughter to have to work like a commoner. Honestly, Dara, I would prefer that you stayed at home to primp. I want you fresh as a daisy for the ball. Your father has a few promising suitors coming up from Denver, you know."

"Don't remind me! How many times have I got to tell Father I'm not a piece of property?"

"Oh, but that is just what you are, dear. It's what we are. It's an easy, comfortable life, and your father and I will never understand why you don't appreciate it."

As she listened, Mary Ellen wished she had someone to exchange exasperated looks with. But she knew full well that Mrs. Ramsey agreed with every word. She did, though, catch a fleeting glimpse of her long-ago best friend in Dara's frustrated eyes.

With the little kids already out of school for the day, Mrs. McManus prevailed upon Mrs. Ramsey to join her afternoon tea klatch after lunch. Mary Ellen was more than content to have her work to get back to, and was looking forward to the walk back to school on her own. But Dara surprised her by also taking her leave. "Thank heavens you're here, Mary Ellen," she said as they stepped back out into the chilly October sun. "I'll take any excuse not to spend the day with those old ladies!"

"Just what excuse did you use?" Mary Ellen hid her resentment and hoped against hope there might be a spark of their long-ago bond still there, but she doubted it.

"I told her I had some advice for you on getting a date for the harvest ball," Dara said. "And I do. It's all over town you're keeping company with James, and if you know what's good for you, you'll stop it."

"All over town?" Mary Ellen's surprise was only partially feigned. It may have been just last night, but word spread fast in Bluedale. "Dara, all we did was have dinner together, and he is an old friend of mine!"

"Old friend of ours," Dara corrected, oblivious as ever. "But the man is a pansy, you know that. It's like Mother always said, that boy might just as well be a girl."

"What's it to you or your mother if I like him, or even love him?" Mary Ellen said.

"We're the McManuses, Mary Ellen. Everything in Bluedale is our business. Besides, you and me, we were best friends, remember? Even if you've grown too big for your britches now-"

"Excuse me?" Mary Ellen halted and glared at her former friend, not caring for the moment who saw or heard what.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Dara said. "Sorry, but it's true, you just aren't the same with all that book learning. Mother says so, Mrs. Ramsey says so, everyone knows it. But I still love you, all right, and I want what's best for you. In fact, especially now that you don't know your place anymore. Someone's got to look out for you, and I don't want to see you get hurt. That's all."

"What makes you think James would hurt me? He's a perfect gentleman, always has been."

"First of all, a gentleman is still a man. They've got needs, you know."

"So do I." Mary Ellen couldn't resist.

"Mary Ellen Fournier!" Dara was aghast. "Even for you..."

"Oh, come on, Dara, do you really expect me to believe you've never felt those urges?"

"That's none of your business," Dara declared loftily. "But if I did, I know to keep all that to myself."

"Then you shouldn't have brought it up with me," Mary Ellen retorted. "In any event, my virtue is intact if you must know. But if there's one thing I learned at college, it's that a woman ought to be able to live on her own terms. James is one of the very few men I've ever met who respects that, and I can't imagine what you've got against that."

"That's a lot more than I needed to know. But in any case, I wasn't done. Even if you don't care, other people will. You do know it could cost you your job?"

"Not if I marry him."

"Yes, well, married or not, being too close to James will mean trouble for you with... some other people."

"You mean Michael and his gang? Come on, Dara, aren't you ever going to grow up?"

"You think they're ever going to have any respect for James? You settle down with him and you'll have a target on your back too."

"I refuse to live in fear, Dara. Especially not fear of those guys. They're all bound to end up in jail sooner or later, you know that. Speaking of which, I'd keep my distance from them if I were you. They'll never have any respect for you either."

"A fat lot you know, Mary Ellen." Dara leaned over and whispered in her old friend's ear. "I'll have you know we've got a great All Hallows' Eve trick planned. Just you wait!"

"We? As in you and Michael and his friends? Dara, I don't know what you've got planned and I don't want to know, but whatever it is, they're sure to pin it on you if they get caught."

Dara shrugged. "Father'll get me out of it if they do. But I'm telling you, sooner or later they're gonna get James good, whether I'm involved or not. And if you're too close to him..."

"Then I'll stand by him like I always did when we were young," Mary Ellen vowed. "And as for my feelings for him, they truly are none of your business." As they had reached the schoolhouse, she stopped at the corner of the path to the front door. She knew there was no need to dissuade Dara any further, for Dara had never missed an opportunity to remind anyone that she would never set foot in any school again.

"Do not say I didn't warn you, old friend," Dara said. Without another look at Mary Ellen, she sauntered off with her nose in the air.

Despite the autumn chill, Mary Ellen's skin prickled with forbidden heat at the taboo she had just broken with her former friend. Last night hadn't been her first round with her treasured souvenir of Paris, nor had its intended use been unknown to her before she'd bought it. Nor, even, had she been unaware that other women indulged similarly - after all, her two classmates, Audrey and Margaret, had also bought one, and the bemused silent looks the three had exchanged had made it abundantly clear that they all understood the purpose just fine.

But actually laying with a man? She knew just what that could lead to, and she knew even if it didn't lead to a seven-pound mistake nine months down the road, it could still destroy her reputation. So of course she'd never given any thought to acting upon any urges she could always address with her own hands. But the desire was there, just the same. It had been for quite some time, she realized now as she tidied up the classroom and prepared for the afternoon lessons.

And something about the mellow joy of last night with James had her no longer willing to pretend it wasn't there. If only there were someone she could talk to about it! Of course it wouldn't do to even think too much of such things when the kids came in, but Mary Ellen knew just what she would get up to later on at home.

* * *

Sometime that afternoon, while entertaining the occasional visitor while she and her cook were busy with the cakes, Mrs. Ramsey did learn that her son had spent the evening with Mary Ellen. When James and his father arrived home that evening, they were both treated to a curt reprimand for keeping her in the dark. "And to think I told that girl this very afternoon I wished you two would see more of one another! Are you out to make me look like a fool in my own home?"

The previous evening's chaste joys having been on James' mind all day, he did not let his mother's annoyance spoil the already-golden memory. Nor did he tell her he fully intended to see more of Mary Ellen, for she would undoubtedly find an excuse to be scandalized by that as well. In the heat of the moment, he didn't think to tell her he had asked Mary Ellen to the harvest ball.

He did tell his father as much, the next day at the close of business. "Could you tell Mother over dinner?" he asked as he cleared his desk for the night.

"I could, but why don't you want to tell her yourself?" Father asked.

"Because I'm not going home for dinner. I'll eat in town."

"Your mother will think you're off scandalizing Mary Ellen."

"I know." He caught a glint of begrudging approval in his father's eye.

James did not in fact have any intention of visiting Mary Ellen at home. Though he'd have loved to do so, he knew the rules of courtship and social graces, even in Bluedale - especially in Bluedale, for that matter. But now that his father had put the idea in his head, he couldn't help but consider going by her cabin after dinner.

Putting that racy thought from his mind for the moment, he went to the one place in town where he knew Mary Ellen would never be seen: the saloon. He knew James and his buddies were often found there and he knew they would welcome the chance to reopen old wounds and rough him up, but that was all the more reason to show the bullies he wasn't afraid of them anymore.

In any event, they were nowhere to be seen when he stepped into the dimly lit, noisy barroom. In his three piece suit, he couldn't help but feel like an interloper, but he welcomed the bustle and noise and the sloppy piano soundtrack rumbling underneath it all. He'd been there enough times for the regulars to take little notice of his anomalous appearance, and settled himself at the nearest empty table.

He was halfway through his meal, and his second drink, when an old classmate helped herself to the empty chair across from him. "Evening, James. Still don't think you're too good for this place, do you?"

"Hi, Bess." James' heart broke afresh every time he saw what had become of his old friend Bessie Wallace. The town drunk's only daughter and never a very good student, she had once been the schoolyard marbles champion and a great friend to James when most of the girls and all the boys wanted nothing to do with them. When she'd been kicked out of school for being with child (reportedly courtesy of Michael, though no one but her knew for certain), he'd made a vow to remember that and never judge her no matter what became of her. Now, presented once again with the sight of her in a garish multicolored dress and enough paint for three canvases, he stuck to that yet again. "How's business these days?"

"The boys are in from the roundup. I won't be going hungry for weeks."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you won't be." James hoped his face looked sympathetic. "You know, Bess, if you ever want more respectable employment..."

"Your mother would never allow that."

"She won't get a vote for much longer. I've just about had it with her. It's time I move out on my own anyway."

"I appreciate it, James, but we both know it's not just your mother. No one in this town will ever respect me. I've made my peace about it, at least until I can make my escape. One of these days when Mr. Donnelly ain't after me for his cut, I'm putin' on a plain dress and I'm off on the train. All the way to California if I can get the money together."

"So it's true about Michael's father." James had always suspected but never dared ask.

"Yeah, everything you heard and worse. He knows all about how much business I do in here and if he doesn't get his cut in time... well, you don't want to know."

"And of course Michael keeps him up to date."

"That pig." Bess looked on the verge of tears. "But I take the good with the bad. I hear plenty of his business in here too. Speakin' of which, you know what he's got in store for Dara?"

"Speaking of pigs," James chuckled.

"Yeah, I know, but even she doesn't deserve that."

"Doesn't deserve what?" James set his fork and knife down.

"Oh my, you don't know?"

"I've done my best to have nothing to do with Dara since I got back in town."

"Good idea. But... well, the other night - probably the same night you were out with Mary Ellen -"

"Oh, for heavens' sake!" James let out a frustrated laugh. "Is there anyone in Bluedale who doesn't know all about that?"

"Doubt it. But look, I think it's wonderful. 'Course, if I were the two of you, I'd take off tomorrow."

"Well, we've both got jobs to do here for now. Anyway, the other night?"

"Right." Bess took a deep breath and looked around to ward off any eavesdroppers. "Michael and his boys, they overdid it on the whiskey as usual and they're after me to give 'em a free round for old times' sake. 'Course I told 'em to forget it. Then Beau says something about 'We oughta do to her what we'll do to Dara' and Jack says 'Nah, she's already a whore, we can't.' So I say just what can't you do? Michael tried to shut 'em both up, of course, but I reminded him there's all sorts of stuff I could tell his old man about him if I felt like it. He looked like he wanted to kill all three of us, but I had him beat and he knew it."

* * *

As much as James disliked Dara, keeping Bess' news under his hat was out of the question. Something had to be done. Feeling much too wound up to just go home anyway, he gave in to his temptation and walked over to the deserted schoolhouse. After making sure there were no prying eyes in the street, he hurried across the yard and past the school to the tiny cabin beyond.

Inside, Mary Ellen had just finished correcting last night's homework and changed into her nightdress. With a roaring fire in the hearth and the oil lamp by her bed casting a warm glow and the day's work complete, she at last turned her attention to the hunger that had been eating at her ever since the regrettable conversation with Dara. She withdrew her ivory toy from the dresser and settled herself on the still-made bed.

She had only just pulled up the hem of her nightdress when a rap at the door shattered her sanctuary. Mary Ellen's heart sank, and she felt an awful fear rise up within - a visitor at this hour could not possibly be good news. But there was no use in pretending not to be home; the curtains were drawn but the glow of the fire was surely visible around the edges. Reluctantly she got up and tossed the toy on the bed; there was, after all, no risk of her unwelcome guest coming into the bedroom. "Coming!" Mary Ellen pulled on her wrapper and stepped out into the tiny parlor.

Her apprehension turned to naughty delight when she saw who was at the door. "James!" She threw the door open wide and welcomed him inside, with only the most fleeting of thoughts that he oughtn't see her in her wrapper and with her hair down. The world had not ground to a halt now that he had seen her that way.

"I'm sorry to come by so late..."

"No, no, come in!" He did, and she closed the door behind him. "I trust no one saw you outside?"

"Not that I could see." He gave her a shy smile. "I hope you don't mind my saying, your hair looks nice down like that."

"Unh. I mind." She grinned at him. "Thank you. That's lovely to hear. But I don't suppose you came by just to tell me that."

"Well, no. I mean, I have been thinking of the other night and really looking forward to seeing you again, but no. I'm afraid I got some dangerous news tonight. It's about Dara."

"Oh, that little shrew! She didn't!"

"Didn't what?"

"Tell you what I said today after lunch! I might have known I couldn't trust her!"

"Mary Ellen, I have no idea what you're talking about! Dara hasn't said anything to me. I haven't even seen her all week. And if the truth be told, I like it that way."

"Then you haven't heard anything about..."

"About what?"

"I'm not sure if I feel comfortable telling you that yet." Mary Ellen felt her heart race. "I want to, if you want to know the truth, but..." She sat down on the settee and hoped he would not make her finish that sentence.

He didn't. "Understood," he said, acquiescing to her invitation to sit down beside her. "No, it's about Dara but it's not about anything she said. I took my dinner at the saloon tonight, and I got to talking to... someone there..."

"Bess?"

"You can read me like a book." James chuckled. "I feel so bad for her."

"Me too, but she certainly knows what goes on in that place. So what's the latest?"

"Apparently Mike and his pals are planning on an All Hallows' Eve prank where they're hoping to hold up the train into town, and Dara wanted in on it."

"Of course she did. That fool, always thinking she was in with their gang."

"Apparently that's what they're thinking, too. They're planning to lure her in on the prank and..."

"And what?"

"And rape her."

"Good heavens." Mary Ellen clenched her fists in rage. "And there's no point in trying to tell her. She'll never listen."

"There must be something we can do. I couldn't think of anything on the walk over here, but I figured two heads are better than one."

"Well, we've got a few days." Mary Ellen was feeling more pent-up than ever. She did her best not to show it, but the sheer forbiddenness of being half-dressed in James' presence was not easily hidden.

But James was gentlemanly as ever. "Now, if you'd rather not talk about what you thought I meant, about Dara, I'll be off." He rose and turned towards the door.

In that moment, Mary Ellen knew once and for all, she'd had enough of playing by the rules. "James, wait. Stay a while if you'd like."

"I'd love to." He sat back down. "But why?"

"Because I had a wonderful time the other night and I've been looking forward to seeing you again, and you're here." She smiled. "I've had about all I'm willing to take of worrying what anyone else thinks."

"Me too." Then hastily he added, "Not that men have it as bad as you do, of course, but..."

"Yes, yes, I understand, It's not fair to either of us, is it?"

"Is this related to what you said to Dara?"

"Yes, and I feel awfully guilty that I thought she'd gone running to you with something so intimate."

"Don't. It sounds exactly like something she would do, even if she didn't do it this time. Not with me anyway."

Mary Ellen nodded. "Yes, I suppose so. In any event, it does concern you. You see, like everyone else in town, her tongue was wagging about you and me, and she reminded me that men have needs, and I..." Her voice trailed away and she could feel face flushing, but if it was love, they would have to talk about it sooner or later.

For the moment, she didn't have to, for James spoke up. "Mary Ellen, I would never!"

She finally got the words out. "What if I wanted you to?"

"What?" He laughed, then went silent just as quickly when she didn't respond in kind. "I mean, Mary Ellen, I have been thinking of you and certainly if we were betrothed..."

"That is very noble of you. But that's not quite what I said to Dara. She said men have needs, and I reminded her we do too." Now it was her turn to laugh.

"And Dara no doubt pretended she never had any such urges," James said with a knowing look.

"Of course." Mary Ellen's heart was pounding, but she felt a touch of relief. "Then it doesn't come as a surprise to you that I have those urges too?"

"Everyone knows women do too."

"I don't know about that, James."

"Well, maybe you're right. But in any case, I knew. I've read my share of stories that winked at it, and some of the boys I knew at college were married already. And one or two who weren't, well... not everyone is as straight-laced as we are, you know. But I don't suppose you want to hear those stories."

"I've got a few of my own. I've been to college too, after all."

"Didn't they lock you away in your dormitories at dark?" James said it only quasi-jokingly, having heard such things in earnest.

"Yes, but they didn't lock our hands!" She burst into intense laughter, equal parts embarrassed and titillated.

"Mary Ellen, really?" James' eyes were bulging, and his old friend suspected that was not all that was bulging.

"I'm sorry, James, if that's too much information! I just couldn't help myself."

"No, I think it's wonderful! You hear stories about this sort of thing, but we boys get it drilled into us from such a young age that nice ladies don't."

"Wrong, I'm afraid."

"And quite glad to be wrong!" He leaned over and opened his arms. "May I?"

"Please do!" She welcomed his arms around her, and eagerly returned them. "I think I love you, James."

"I think the same! I'm ever so glad I stopped by, even if I hate the reason why."

"Let's not worry about Dara for the moment. I do suppose we ought to think of what we'll tell your mother. And mine as well, now that I think of it."

"I guess so, but that's not exactly foremost on my mind just now." He pulled back and gave her an adoring look.

"Nor mine!" She kissed him, and a delightfully naughty idea came to her. When at last their lips parted, she cooed, "You know, I was just about to have some fun before you came in." She fingered the top button of his shirt.

"We shouldn't, you know that." James looked most reluctant to say it. "I mean, if you should get in trouble... I'd marry you, of course, but still..."

"Quite right, but there are other, safer options, now aren't there?"

"You're sure you want to do that?"

"I've been dying to all day, and talking about it like this has only fed the fire! And don't expect me to believe I haven't got you utterly hot under the collar too!"

"Under and over," he admitted.

She prodded him gently, and he got off her and stood up. "Follow me," she said, also standing up.

In the bedroom, of course her toy was just where she'd left it on the bed. "To think five minutes ago I'd have died of embarrassment at anyone seeing this!" she said, picking it up.

"Is that... is it what I think it is?"

Mary Ellen nodded. "I bought it in Paris, and two of my friends also bought one. They're rather ahead of us over there." She fingered it playfully, looking into his eyes in utter bemusement.

"How do you... how does it work?"

Mary Ellen stood back a bit from him and gathered her nightdress up. "I guess it's none of my concern if you've ever seen a lady au naturel before."

"A gentleman never tells." James could barely get the words out as his old friend's body came into view. Not that he was much inclined to be a gentleman as he drank in the view of her pert breasts and gentle curves, and the dark triangular cloak that provided the one and only remaining bit of modesty. "Oh, Mary Ellen... you're beautiful."

"Thank you! But am I to be the only one?"

"Fair's fair!" And James set about undressing.

As he did, Mary Ellen settled herself on the bed and spread her legs wide. "Now then, how does this work, you ask?" She slid the toy inside herself. "Oooh!" she squealed, thrilling to James' ravenous eyes upon her and the view of his own rippling skin coming into view.

There was, of course, no further need to explain. As Mary Ellen drew the toy in and out and in again and vocalized her pleasure, James understood just fine, thank you. Having wondered for years how it would feel to undress in a woman's presence, he was pleasantly surprised at how utterly comfortable it felt. Of course, the ravenous look on Mary Ellen's face as his hardness sprung into view would surely have eased any discomfort he might have felt.

But there was no discomfort. He was far too amazed at the sight and sound of Mary Ellen's self-pleasuring to feel any self-consciousness at all. "Come lay beside me!" She could barely get the words out between gasps. James complied, and helped himself to a gentle feel of her breasts, so light he suspected it tickled her. But she didn't complain. "Oh, that's nice!" But both of their attention was further down, where she was rubbing herself hard with one hand while drawing the toy in and out rapidly with her right.

"Can I help?" James slid his right hand down and ran his fingers playfully through her bush. Tentative at first, as though he feared he might hurt her, he grazed her hidden skin, just reaching the cleft of her vulva a time or two.

"You can if you reach further down!" Mary Ellen laughed, but not unkindly, and took his hand in her own and guided it to her clitoris. "Feel that?"

"Yes."

"Rub around it, like this." She guided his fingers in circles. "Around it, not quite on it!" The words once again grew harder for her to get out as she once again dissolved into gasps and moans of pleasure. "That's great!" were the last words she said for the moment as James got the circles just right. He gazed in amazement as she gave in entirely to the pleasure, and reached her now-idle left hand up to tweak her left nipple. James followed her lead and kissed the right one, thrilling to the sensation of her thrusting it up towards his lips and tongue again and again. No longer able to see her face, he drank in the beautiful sound of her voice growing huskier and more intense than he'd have imagined possible.

"Oh, James!" She clamped her hand over his to stop the rubbing, but kept it tight against her vulva as her body went rigid and then relaxed with a shriek of joy. She pulled the toy out and tossed it aside, and then drew her arms tightly around James. "Thank you!"

"Thank you! That was amazing. I never knew women could... would... wanted to..."

"If only you men knew!"

"I believe that. Heavens, I wish we could..."

"So do I, James. But you know what you can do now." She reached between his legs and gave his hardness a playful squeeze.

"It is only fair, isn't it?" James rolled off the bed and got to his feet, confusing Mary Ellen momentarily, until she saw he was retrieving a handkerchief from the pocket of his discarded coat.

She burst into girlish giggles. "Please tell me that's not the same handkerchief you offer to a lady when she needs to mop her brow!"

"Well, I do wash them."

"You do your own washing?"

"We've got Mrs. Kittredge for that, but I wouldn't make her wash this."

Presently laundry was the furthest thing from Mary Ellen's mind, as she watched James standing over the foot of her bed, admiring her body with the shy grin she'd known all her life, stroking himself vigorously. She'd heard any number of rumors and jokes about just what men did when alone in their rooms, and had only been able to guess at just what it might look like. Now, she saw, her imagination hadn't been far off.

But it wouldn't do to only look, after the joy he'd just given her. Mary Ellen scrambled to her feet and stepped up to him. "Can I help?" she offered.

"I'd like that very much!" He took her right hand and let it replace his own. "Rub like this." He guided her, slowly and gently at first. "Oooh! Yes, just like that."

"Does that feel like your own hand?"

"Better. And it frees up both of my hands, doesn't it?" As she had hoped he might, he treated both of her breasts to a gentle caress that rekindled her own desire just as it had started to taper off.

"Ooh, James, you're going to have me in another lather if you keep that up!"

"I sure hope sohhhhhhhhh yes, like that! A little faster!"

She did as he asked, and as he became more worked up by the moment, she began to worry that he might not be able to reach for his handkerchief in time. But of course she hardly cared about that in the heat of the moment as he grew just as worked up as she had been minutes before.

"Oh myyyyyyyy!" She knew just the moment, for he let go of her breast and grabbed up the handkerchief from the bed, just in time to catch the hard spew.

"You're a natural at that," he said, folding the handkerchief and holding it against his penis to catch the remaining drops. "And, sorry about... this."

"Don't be sorry. It's natural and beautiful. And the things I could do with this if..." She gave him one final stroke and left unsaid how badly she'd have loved to take him inside her.

"The feeling is mutual. But I suppose we ought to wait on that, just to be safe."

"Wait until when, James?" She couldn't help smiling at what she anticipated.

"Until we're married, if you want to."

"Is that a proposal?"

"Well, I'm not getting down on one knee, Mary Ellen. I mean, especially not while I'm naked, but even without that..."

"Yes, yes, I know, you're not one to put women on a pedestal. I quite agree, James. And yes, I'll marry you." She put her arms around him, and welcomed the same from him. Who knew a naked hug could feel so wonderful!

* * *

"Miss Fournier, you look happy today!" exclaimed one of the little kids as they rushed around her on their way out of the schoolhouse.

"Oh, I am!" Mary Ellen was fairly sure she was glowing with joy and naughty pleasure, despite barely getting any sleep. Her heart pounded as she made eye contact with Mrs. Ramsey - had James told her when he'd finally arrived home last night? They'd both been hoping she'd have already been asleep, then it would simply be a matter of dodging her at breakfast.

Mrs. Ramsey's tiny smile made it clear - she knew. But neither woman said anything until the children were all gone.

"Mary Ellen. Congratulations to both of you." Mary Ellen was not surprised that her mother-in-law-to-be could give hugs that didn't feel the least bit warm or soft. But she welcomed it as the best she could hope for.

"I was hoping we'd be able to tell you together..."

"Mustn't blame James, dear. I've known him all his life, and over the coffee this morning I could see something was up with him. And didn't I say I hoped the two of you would end up together?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Ramsey." Mary Ellen waited for the invitation to call her Julia or even Mother now. But it didn't come. As they emerged into the October sun, she recalled what had brought James to her cabin in the first place. "Say, has Dara shown any interest in joining our procession tomorrow?"

"Dara!" Mrs. Ramsey laughed. "Mary Ellen, you know as well as I, she would want nothing to do with handing out sweets to the children and her mother would never allow it if she did!"

"I've been hoping she might want to do it just to rebel against her mother. I mean, you heard her the other day."

"Oh, don't be silly, dear. I know you two used to be friends, but Dara is a silly, selfish girl with a sense of entitlement as wide as any river. If she sounds rebellious against her mother, it's only because she can't wait to be just like her mother. I can only hope I'll have retired by the time any children of hers get to school. Why would you even want her there, Mary Ellen?"

"Oh, well..." Mary Ellen seriously considered telling her, but it was too risky - she did not want Mrs. Ramsey learning her son had been a guest in her home, engaged or not. "Old times' sake, I suppose."

"I can hardly keep you from asking her, Mary Ellen, but don't get your hopes up."

Too true, Mary Ellen thought to herself as they approached the tearoom. She half-hoped Dara wouldn't even be there, for there would surely be unwelcome commentary about her engagement if she were. But it was just as well to get that out of the way now. She didn't know how Dara would have heard the news already, but it seemed just inevitable that she would have.

One look at her old friend confirmed as much as they stepped into the sanctuary. "Mary Ellen Ramsey!" Dara squealed in what she'd have denounced as an utterly unladylike tone if it were coming from any other woman.

"Really, now?" exclaimed Mrs. Davis, the town librarian. There were several echoes, some of them from women Mary Ellen didn't even know, and a round of applause.

Mary Ellen smiled and nodded her acknowledgment. "Thank you. Dara, do I even want to know how you heard the news?"

"Oh, you know I have no truck with gossip," Dara said without a trace of irony. "Come join me for one last hurrah as single ladies!"

"'Me'? Your mother isn't here?"

"She's busy with planning for the harvest ball. I wanted to help but she insisted I stay away." Dara pulled out a chair for her old friend, and Mrs. Ramsey took the hint and joined a few of her older friends at another table.

"Very well." Mary Ellen sat down and settled herself while Dara retook her seat across the table. "Listen, if you've got nothing else to do before the ball, I was hoping you might join us for the parade tomorrow afternoon?"

"You're in on that? Oh, Mary Ellen! It's a good thing you didn't let my mother hear that the other day. But you know, you shouldn't have told me either. My mother has a way of getting things like that out of me, every time."

"I don't care if she knows. You shouldn't either, Dara, you're a woman now."

"But I'm still a McManus, and we don't get our hands dirty like that. Besides, I told you, the boys and me, we've got a great prank coming up."

"And that won't get your hands dirty?"

"Not that my mother will ever need to know about."

"Dara, you're probably going to be the victim of the prank! They're just letting you think you're in on it, and that's part of the joke. Don't you know Michael well enough by now to see that?"

"Silly girl, you belong with James. I feel sorry for you, Mary Ellen. You've got a lifetime of being a victim like him to look forward to."

"Thanks, Dara."

"What do you mean thanks?"

"Coming from you, that's a compliment. But look, James and I, despite your very low opinion of both of us - "

"Of him, Mary Ellen, not both of you."

"Of both of us once I marry him, then, but as I was saying, despite that, we care about you and we don't want you to get hurt."

"Oh, Michael and the boys wouldn't hurt me. We're pals! They'd hurt James all right, which is why I feel so sorry for you - can't you see you're never going to get any respect with him? But you don't have to worry about me, all right? Anyways, no, I won't have anything to do with dressing up like a witch and handing out cakes to the riffraff."

"Riffraff, Dara? They're children!"

"When we were children, we got sweets from our mothers, didn't we? We didn't have to beg in the streets for them. And I'll have no part in encouraging any such thing. Now, enough of that! What are you wearing to the ball? Do you need a dress? I could rent you one."

Mary Ellen laughed to keep from screaming, and otherwise ignored the question.

She had just enough time after lunch to stop by the bank and give James the bad news. He agreed to take a stab at learning more with another visit to the saloon after work.

He got there a little too early to run any risk of the ranch hands already being there, but that meant Bess was at loose ends. "We've got to stop meeting like this," she said as he sat down at his favorite table.

"Maybe not, Bess. Have a seat."

"I don't know how long I'll be free." But she did help herself to a set across from him, both of them ignoring the snickers that arose from the other men. "You do realize how dangerous I am to your reputation now that you're engaged. Congratulations, by the way."

"Well, thank you!" James laughed. "Somehow I'm not at all surprised word made its way in here."

"You know what it's like, especially this time of year when there's suddenly so much more free time. Now what's up, James?"

"Well, it's Dara. Mary Ellen tried to talk her into spending tomorrow afternoon with her, where she'd be safe, but..."

"But that fool thinks she's in good with Michael and the boys." Bess shook her head. "You're not going to save her from herself, James."

"You're right. I guess what we need is to get someone else to spot them by the tracks. But I don't see how we can do that, especially with everyone primping for the harvest ball."

"James, why do you care so much? Dara never had any respect for you. Or really for Mary Ellen either, all us girls knew that, except her for some reason."

"Because what they want to do to her is evil. Even if she is a selfish, arrogant jerk."

"You're a lot more forgiving than I am." Bess sighed. "I hope you don't hate me for that."

"Not at all," James said. "You know, I have been thinking, when Mary Ellen and I set up our house - "

"What in the hell you doing here!"

James and Bess both looked up to see Michael half-grinning, half-snarling at James. "Evening, Michael," James said, doing his best to hide his contempt behind a smile.

"You think you're welcome here, kiddo? Specially with my girl Bess?" He clamped his meathook hand on Bess' shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make her wince.

"Well, now, I don't see anyone's name on her, Michael, and the barmaid didn't have any problem with taking my order."

"You ain't learned nothing since school, have you?" Michael dragged Bess to her feet. "You go find a payin' customer, if you don't want my pa to hear about it, you got that?"

Bess gave James an apologetic look, and was off to flirt with the guys at the bar.

"As for you, James, you finish your drink and get out, y'hear?" He said it loud enough for the barmaids and the other patrons to hear, and everyone knew.

James knew, too. He gulped down his drink and picked up his hat, and strolled off without another look at his nemesis.

* * *

Dara, having been forbidden from helping out with preparations for the ball in any way, hoped to while away the early afternoon in her room and then slip away to the railroad tracks unnoticed.

Alas, it was not to be. Still in her dressing gown and enjoying a daydream about dancing with James and maybe stealing his heart away at the eleventh hour, she saw her fantasy evaporate into the mist when the rap at the door came. "Miss McManus!"

"What is it, Rita?" As usual, Dara couldn't be bothered to pretend to have any respect for her maid.

Rita opened the door. "Your mother would like a word." Seeing Dara was not dressed, she hastily added, "And you might wish to..."

"It's none of your concern what I'm wearing," Dara grumbled. Tying up the sash of her dressing gown, she stomped off down the hall to find her mother swathed in full outdoor regalia, clearly having just arrived back from the ball grounds. "What is it, Mother?"

"Have you seen your father's blue pinstripe suit?"

Dara's heart flipped, but she was practiced at keeping her mother in the dark on such things, and she put on the grin that usually got her out of trouble. "The suit he never wears? Surely you gave that to the ragman ages ago?"

"No, I know we did not do that. It's his favorite suit, and he hasn't worn it lately because he'd grown too stout for it, but he just tried it on the other day and it fit perfectly. We had it right at the front of the wardrobe, too, because he was going to wear it to the ball." She gave her daughter a stern look up and down. "Speaking of wearing to the ball, shouldn't you be dressed by now?"

"Whatever for? You wouldn't let me go over there to lift a finger, would you?"

"Beauty takes time, my darling. And don't think for one moment I don't know you're hoping to wrest James away from Mary Ellen."

"Mother! I never!"

"Oh please. You've always adored that boy, and it is your very last chance to open his eyes. But you'd best get cleaned up and let Holly get to work on your hair."

"I already told Holly to come by at five o'clock, so my hair will look fresh when I walk in, and I'll have Rita draw my bath at four. I need to go to town before then, so there's no use in getting washed up now."

"You need to go to town? Whatever for?"

"Oh, Mother... you're right, okay? Yes, I'm after James, and... I want to buy his favorite fragrance at the apothecary."

"How do you know his favorite fragrance?"

"I asked his mother."

Mrs. McManus did not look convinced, but she shook her head. "Very well. But before you go, I want you to take another minute to think about your father's suit. Have you seen it anywhere?"

"Oh, all right, Mother, I didn't want to get Rita in any trouble, but..."

"Rita?"

Dara nodded. "I saw her take it downstairs the other night. It looked like she'd spilled something on it."

"That was very noble of you, Dara. But next time, you worry about what I want before you worry about getting the help in trouble they deserve. Off with you!" She spun on her heel and called for Rita.

Dara hurried on her most raggedy dress and shoes. She slipped down the back stairs, doing her best to tune out the sound of her mother yelling at Rita, and out the back door.

She remembered too late that she ought to avoid Main Street. But the first of the mill girls on the corner spotted her, and it was no use. "Dara!" she called. "You going to join us?"

"Haven't got a witch costume, I'm afraid." Dara smiled through her disgust at the scene that greeted her: a dozen women or more, including that bitch Mary Ellen, dolled up in black from head to toe, singing silly songs in ragged harmony, handing out cakes to the adoring children, who were also clad in bizarre costumes. The only way to the rendez-vous point was past the silly spectacle. Dara contented herself with the idea that her worn out dress might pass as a costume.

At least Mary Ellen appeared to be too distracted with the spectacle to notice her. Dara did her best to keep it that way as she crept along against the current of children.

No such luck. "Dara! Have you decided to join us after all?"

Dara turned to see her former friend looking perfectly elated. As well she might. But it wouldn't do to let her know what she really was feeling just now, Dara knew that. "Sorry, Mary Ellen, there just isn't time. I've got an errand to run before the ball. I hope you'll spare James for a dance or two?"

"You'll have to ask him, won't you?"

"No, he'll have to ask me! But I hope you won't be jealous. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Dara, wait!" Mary Ellen looked rather panicked through her silly makeup. "Don't go out there! Michael and his guys are nothing but trouble, you know that!"

"I love trouble." Dara gave her a patronizing chuck on the shoulder, resisting her inclination to give her a good shove into the gutter, and continued on against the stream.

Mary Ellen cast a sad look at the retreating figure of her former friend, and tried frantically to think of something that might change her mind. But there was nothing.

"Miss Fournier! May I have one?"

Mary Ellen snapped out of her reverie of regret and saw little Johnny Parker, the grocer's youngest son, looking up at her. He was dressed adorably in a bear skin, complete with whiskers painted on his face.

"Yes, Johnny, of course!" She handed him a cake. "That's an adorable costume, too."

"Thank you, and thank you!" Johnny giggled, and Mary Ellen joined in. It felt good to laugh. But there was no getting Dara off her mind.

One good thing about the silly procession, Dara mused as she made her way down to the train tracks - there were no prying eyes out here. The tracks ran behind a berm that marked the edge of the old Anderson ranch, which provided just enough privacy before rounding the bend that led to the Bluedale station. As she reached the berm, Dara took a furtive look around to make sure no one was watching. She thought she saw a flutter of movement behind Old Man Anderson's house, but concluded it was only the bird she saw flying away a second later.

Dara scrambled up the berm and then slid down the other side, where she found Michael, Beau and Jack crouching around her father's stuffed suit. "Hey, guys," she said. "Listen, it turns out my father loves that suit, so I was thinking..."

"Don't care what you're thinking, McAnus," Michael said. "Ain't no time to change the body's clothes, and I don't see you carrying any replacement suit."

"Guys, c'mon!" Dara grinned through her growing consternation.

Jack stood up. "Maybe the train'll stop in time, and you can get the suit back to your pa."

"You don't believe that, do you?" Dara said. "I don't!"

"Me neither, but God might make a miracle," Beau said, drawing laughs from his two friends.

"Guys, please. There must be something else we can do."

Michael stepped up to her. "You know what, McAnus? There is."

"Thank heavens! What's that? And stop calling me that."

"We can use your dress." Michael grabbed Dara by the waist and took fistfuls of the frayed cloth in both hands.

"Boys! Don't be silly! I'm not wearing anything under this!"

"We know," Beau said. As Dara squirmed in Michael's grip, Beau pawed at her breasts while Jack yanked her skirt up.

"Stop! Hellllp!"

"Scream all you want," Michael said. "You know everyone's at the kids' parade, they can't hear a thing."

"Why are you doing this?!" Dara yelped. "We're friends!"

"You never did know your place," Beau said.

"Yeah, this is a man's town," Jack added.

"And it's past time you learn that," Michael said. "But because we're gentlemen, we'll see to it that your pa's suit doesn't get destroyed."

"Yeah, a fake lady on the tracks'd be a better trick anyway," Beau added. "Course, I don't know just how you'll get home without the dress."

"But that ain't our problem." Jack unbuttoned his pants.

"Put that away!" Michael ordered him, putting a hand over Dara's mouth to muffle her screams. "I told you before, I go first!"

"Looks to me like you've got your hands full." Jack disobeyed the order and dropped his pants.

Dara squirmed this way and that, and tried to bite Michael's fingers, to no avail.

"Hands up! You let her go!"

All three men looked up to see Deputies Cayne and Waller pointing their pistols at them. Michael didn't miss a beat. "Jimmy! Bobby! There's plenty of her to go around, boys, but you'll have to wait your turn."

"I said let her go!" Deputy Cayne cocked his pistol.

Michael turned to see his two compatriots had already put their hands up in surrender; he followed suit. Dara dropped to the ground and gulped in a deep breath. "Thank you!"

* * *

The dancefloor was awash in colorful frocks in the glow of the torchlights and the aroma of the buffet off to the side. Mary Ellen, resplendent in her favorite blue gown, welcomed the many congratulations as she ate her dinner, flanked by her parents at a table just beyond the edge of the dancefloor. She welcomed them one and all, but her concern over her fiance's absence showed behind the joy in her eyes.

"I'm sure James will be here as soon as possible," her father reassured her during a lull in the conversation.

"His mother is nowhere to be seen either," noted her mother. "Which means his father must also be involved. She'd never be seen here without him. So it's probably business."

"I wish I knew what the business was," Mary Ellen sighed. "I have an awful feeling about it."

"Mary Ellen, what is it you're not telling us?" her father asked. "I know that look, when you're troubled."

Mary Ellen sighed and set her fork down - she was done eating anyway, and there was no use in denying anything. "It's about Dara. James and I heard -"

"Oh, sweetie, why didn't you say so?" Mother exclaimed. "Michael and his friends were arrested this afternoon. She's safe."

"She is? They were? You knew?"

Father laughed. "While you were at the parade with the children, I was in town on an errand and I saw Cayne and Waller marching those three to the jailhouse."

"It's past time that happened," Mother interjected.

"Indeed," Father agreed. "And Dara was telling anyone would listen what they'd tried to do to her."

"I guess that explains why she's not here," Mary Ellen said, looking around the crowded fest to confirm that. "And James and his father..."

"No doubt her father hired them," Mother said. "To throw the book at Roger Donnelly for whatever they can get out of him for letting his boy run wild. I wonder what godawful thing they intended to do to Dara?"

Mary Ellen opted to keep to herself that she knew the horrible answer to that question. But Mother put two and two together on her own. "Just how did you know anything about this, darling?"

"Well..."

Mary Ellen was saved by a hearty whoop from her father, who stood up from the table at that moment. "James!" he exclaimed, and Mary Ellen looked over her shoulder to see her true love and his parents approaching. "Welcome to the family, my boy. I can't tell you how happy we were to hear the news!"

"Makes four of us," added James' father, who kissed Mary Ellen's mother chastely on the cheek. "I think we were all hoping it might happen."

"At least they see eye to eye with one another," allowed Julia, who alone did not participate in the round of kisses and handshakes.

Amidst all this, Mary Ellen got to her feet and embraced James brazenly, not caring in the least what the other townsfolk might think. "Is it true you were late because of Dara and them?" she whispered in his ear.

"Yes. Lots to say! Shall we dance?"

With all four parents looking on in admiration, James led Mary Ellen out onto the dancefloor, where the band was just starting a waltz tune. As soon as she was settled in his arms, James explained. "The moment they brought those fools up the street to the jailhouse, tongues started wagging, of course, including that Dara was with them and looking like a street urchin."

"That explains why her father was concerned, doesn't it?" Mary Ellen couldn't help laughing.

James nodded. "Father and I were at home, and Mr. McManus banged down our door and explained the whole thing, and hired us to sue Mr. Donnelly for damages. Of course we had to tell him it'd be a tough sell, but he was already sold on the idea. Can't say I blame him, I suppose."

"Me neither. But James... do you know how the police heard about what they wanted to do to Dara? I saw her on her way to the tracks not even half an hour before and there was no turning her back! I tried."

Michael chuckled. "Let's just say at least one of the deputies has been a bad boy."

"With Dara?"

"With Bess. Remember, she knew the whole plan, and just last night Michael was pushing her around worse than usual."

Mary Ellen stiffened a bit and looked concerned. "Did you know she..."

"Not for certain, no," James assured her. "But if there's one person in Bluedale who knows everyone's secrets... speaking of which, you know she wants to get out of town, and I've been thinking..."

"Yes! Yes, let's help her, by all means." Mary Ellen exhaled, for what felt like the first time all day. "But for the moment, let's just enjoy the party, shall we?"

They danced all evening. With each other and with friends, and between dances they welcomed many congratulations. But Mary Ellen had plans for after the ball, and she knew better than to let the other townspeople see any hint of those plans. When the band kicked into yet another fast song, she leaned in and whispered in James' ear, "Come home with me."

James looked equal parts delighted and bewildered. "Tonight? Now?"

"There's no need to be shy after what we got up to the other night, is there?"

"Well, of course not. It's just that... we got away undetected that time."

"And we can do that again. If we slip away now." She took his hand in both of hers. "Come on, it'll just look like we're off for a moonlight walk, and for the moment that'll be just what it is!"

There wasn't a soul in the streets of town as they strolled hand in hand through the darkness. Even the saloon was closed, all the barmaids being busy at the ball. The McManus house was one of the few with lights in the windows. "No surprise they didn't go to the ball, huh?" Mary Ellen said.

"Dara still wanted to, according to her father," James said. "But he wouldn't allow it."

"It's not like him to be that concerned about her feelings," Mary Ellen said. "But I agree with him, it's probably not a good idea to go to a party immediately after something that traumatic."

"Oh, that's not why he wouldn't allow it." James dissolved into disbelieving laughter. "No, it's because he found out she stole his favorite suit for their stupid prank!"

"Gee, I'd nearly forgotten about that!"

"So did Michael and the guys, apparently. After they were arrested, the sheriff went down to the tracks to look for evidence, and he found the stuffed dummy lying there. Unharmed, the train had already come through and hadn't hit it, but an awful mess. Her father probably won't be able to ever wear it again."

"Leave it to him to care about that at a time like this!" Mary Ellen squeezed James' hand tighter. "Imagine having to grow up with parents like that."

"If we ever have children, they'll never have to know anything about that," James said. "I promise you that!"

"If?"

"Well, there's no guarantee about that, is there?"

"I suppose," Mary Ellen said. "But I look forward to trying."

Starting tonight, she thought with a naughty flair as she welcomed him inside and lit the waiting stack of logs in the fireplace. "Sorry about the cold," she told him with a hungry grin. "But I trust it won't be that way for long."

"I guess we can help that along, can't we?" James took her in his arms, and she eagerly returned the embrace as they kissed. A gentle but long kiss, Mary Ellen welcomed every forbidden moment of it as she found her hands rubbing his back and, soon enough, reaching under his coat.

While her hands were busy there, his hands found his way to her hair and presently she found herself relieved of her combs. "Feels good to take those out at the end of the day!" she whispered.

"How's it feel being helped out of them?"

"Better still. And speaking of which..." She stepped back and opened his coat, and soon had it tossed on the rocking chair by the window. Taking advantage of the momentary separation to fluff out her hair, she then made fast work of his tie. He came closer once again to let her at it, and reached around her back in search of the clasp of her dress. She had just enough time to suspect he'd never find it before he did.

Mary Ellen threw herself at him again and held him tightly as she felt him loosen the lace on her back, feeling utterly tickled at what was to come. They were kissing passionately again when he got it undone, and she pulled back just far enough to let him pull the dress off her shoulders.

Though he had seen Mary Ellen in the nude the other night, James hadn't seen her in her corset. He found the view mesmerising, to her delight. She stepped back and struck a pose. "Surprise!" she squealed, drinking in his bulging eyes and pants.

"I didn't know women really wore those!" He laughed like a schoolboy, his eyes still glued to her. "How do I..."

"Like this." She took his hands and placed them on the lacing. "Just like untying your shoes, James."

"Only I'm untying your breasts."

"Please do!" As was always the case just before she undressed, Mary Ellen was eagerly anticipating being able to breathe freely again. Beyond that, she was eager to feel his hands on her breasts again. Her hands itched to help him out of his clothes as well, but for the moment she settled for watching him unlace the corset.

Presently, he had it open and it slid to the floor. Mary Ellen let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and anticipation, and welcomed his gentle touches on her newly bare skin. "Such a blessed relief," she whispered.

"Help me join you!" he reminded her, and she very eagerly did set about unbuttoning his shirt. Once it was off, she took her sweet time rubbing his bare chest, thrilling to his audible pleasure, and welcoming his gentle hands on her breasts. She could have welcomed his play on them all night, but his pants still beckoned with their treasure.

Before she went to work on removing them, she clasped her left hand over his right one. "That feels great, darling, but this will feel even better." She guided his hand down and placed it on her vulva, which was wet to the touch.

James looked utterly awestruck as he slipped one finger inside her. Mary Ellen sounded just as awestruck at his caresses. "Ooof! James!" She closed her eyes and threw her head back. "Ohhoohoohoohoo!"

"Is that as good as your toy?"

"Better!" But the question shook her out of her reverie long enough to remember his pants, and she hastily undid them and pushed them down. With his hardness set free at last, she picked up just where she'd left off the other night.

This time, however, she had no intention of using only her hands.

While he continued stroking up a storm between her legs, however, she did help herself to some fun of her own. Many was the time she had imagined just what playing with a penis would do to the man attached to it. James' gasps and wiggles and his own persistently lovely touches on and in her body were better than anything she'd imagined, and her heart was bursting with awareness and anticipation.

When he brought her off, she stopped stroking him and squeezed him, and a fleeting concern that she might be hurting him roared through her mind but was overwhelmed by her pleasure. "Oh, my..." she sighed as the stars cleared from her eyes, and only then did she realize just how hard she was holding onto his hardness. "Oh no, did I hurt you!" Hastily she let go.

"No. It felt wonderful." His grin looked convincing to her.

"Oh good. But you know where it'd feel even better..." Mary Ellen climbed onto her bed and lay back, spreading her legs wide. "Come here, my love."

James lingered at the foot of the bed, the glow from the fire casting a lovely hue on his bare skin. "Are you sure?"

"We are engaged, aren't we?"

"I only wanted to hear you say that."

Mary Ellen felt her heart in her throat - in a wonderful way - as James climbed onto the bed and settled himself on top of her. An awkward moment ensued when he tried to find his own way in, but that only heightened her anticipation.

"Here," she said gently, and she reached down and guided him inside her.

Once she had him secure within, there were no words but plenty of vocalizing. Mary Ellen felt almost like she'd lost control of her voice as she gave in to the natural expressions of joy that seemed to erupt from within her. She'd grown up thinking she wasn't that kind of girl. Now she wondered why she would ever not want to be just that!

James, for his part, was just as amazed at everything he heard and felt. To think his dear old friend smoldered like this underneath it all! And that it could all be his from now on! Many was the time he'd wondered just what to do in bed; the wink-and-whisper explanations he'd heard from more experienced men had amounted to 'it'll come to you naturally'.

To his great surprise, it did.

"I love you!" he grunted as he flailed at her.

"Love you toooooooo!" She took his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes, and planted a kiss on his lips as her orgasm washed over her.

He kept his lips locked on hers, and flailed harder than before, thrilling to her increasingly intense moaning through the kiss as his own climax neared.

"Do it for me!" she grunted, reaching down to slap his hips on both sides.

James more than willingly obeyed the order.

He only had time to come to a stop deep inside her and lay his head on her shoulder, before she burst into tears and threw her arms around him.

"What's wrong?" He raised his head in concern.

"It's not wrong, it's right! It's beautiful! I love you!"

"I love you too." He nuzzled her breasts playfully, and her tears turned to laughter.

Neither of them needed to say a word about what would happen if anyone knew what they'd done. Neither of them cared, for the whole town knew they were soon to be married and they needed only to be discreet until then.

That thought made Mary Ellen wonder. "What do you suppose Dara will think of us now?"

"It won't change a thing, Mary Ellen. You know that."

"And if we buy Bess some nice clothes and a ticket out of town?"

"It's not as though the moral scolds don't already hate you for going to college or me for being a suffragist."

"Nor as though we care, or ever will."

"That's right!" He slid off her and rubbed her side up and down, and they kissed and enjoyed the warm firelight.