A Refined Evening

Since this is the last Friday night free of classes and homework for a few months, I decided that I'd have a nice glass of wine. Which is a definite change of pace from the last few times I've had alcohol. The above is a picture of the wine rack and glasses that I got for Christmas, along with the bottle of Turning Leaf and the corkscrew that Farmmom got me. In the rack is the strawberry wine that my friend Tev and her husband made and gave me as a gift two years ago.

What? I don't drink wine that often, and I haven't found an occasion special enough for it yet. I'm kind of glad, though, cause it looks pretty spiffy in that rack.

Well, I'm off to enjoy my wine and watch House. A happy and safe weekend to you all!

Waiting...

Well, since AD is having some technical difficulties, he gets an extension on getting the Star of Life chapter up.

But, since I'm mean and evil, Jane won't continue until after he does get it up.

Chapter Two is ready to go, so as soon as AD gets his intarwebz back and posts his part of the deal, ya'll will get it.

In the mean time, head on over to LawDog's and check out his post on women's self defense techniques.

Or, you can slide on down to MattG's and read his review of No Country For Old Men.

Or check out any of the folks on my blogroll, right over there ----->

Sneak Preview

I have permission from the author to post a couple of preview sections of Lost In Dodge. Total pimpage! *Grumble stingy man won't give me a cut for advertising, grumble lucky I like him*

So, as the first excerpt, here's the tale of how notorious outlaw Terry Simms rolls into the the blacksmiths shop, and the aftermath of the confrontation between our beloved giant Daryl and the Simms Gang:

Daryl was just putting on his leather apron to get back to work when he noticed four men ride up to his shop. He hung the apron on the nail where it belonged and turned to the men, forcing a smile to his lips.

The smile faded immediately as his eyes met with the man seated in the saddle of the big roan in the middle.

Daryl stepped slowly towards the man.

“Can I talk to you?” Daryl said as calmly as he could, nodding towards his house that served as his office, “in there.”

“Sure,” the man said calmly. The man stepped from his saddle and followed Daryl into the office, noticing as he did so that the blacksmith looked bigger and bigger the closer he got. It was only when Daryl stepped through the eight foot door that the man paused with realization as to how big the blacksmith really was. He paused only a moment, then followed.

There was a large table in the office and Daryl sat on one side and nodded for the man to take the chair across from his. Daryl sat in his chair, leaning forward slightly, his huge hands bunched into fists.

“I’d like to tell you a story,” Daryl began after the two men were seated.

“Okay,” the man said with an amused smile on his face. He was on the range most of the time and always enjoyed a good story.

“When I was just six years old, my ma left me in Dodge City,” Daryl began using all his efforts to keep his voice calm, “She took my little sister, got on a train goin’ east, an off she went.”

The smile on the man’s face began to fade, he already didn’t like the way this story was going. The look in the blacksmith’s eyes didn’t match the calmness in his voice. The man gently let his hands slip from the table and into his lap.

“That train got robbed halfway ‘tween Dodge and Wichita,” Daryl continued just loud enough that the man could hear him, “it was the Simms gang.”

The man, keeping his shoulders still to avoid the attention of the huge blacksmith, slid his hand onto the butt of his Colt. This blacksmith was bigger than anyone he’d ever seen, but it was nothing a couple of lead slugs in the breadbasket wouldn’t cure.

“After I learned about what happened, I went to the sheriff’s office and memorized ever’ wanted poster he had,” Daryl said, his breathing slowing and his eyes focused into the eyes of the man before him, “And I made myself a promise that if’n I ever met the man what done it, I’d give him back what he got coming.”

The man across from Daryl kept surprisingly calm. He’d been through a lot of situations in the past that were similar to this, though never quite at this close range. He sized that blacksmith up and was wondering if two slugs in the belly would be enough to stop him. He resided himself to the fact that two might not stop the giant blacksmith, but would at least slow him down enough to get the gun above the table and finish the job.

“I know who yuh are,” Daryl said coldly and the two men sat staring into each other’s eyes.

The man’s eyes were caught by something shiny on the top of the huge blacksmith’s hands and he let his eyes dart back and forth from the giant’s eyes to his hands. As his vision bounced back and forth he saw a silver dollar slowly materialize from the giant’s hand and clatter onto the table.

A look of confusion came over the man’s face, which doubled when he again looked at the giant and saw him bust an ear to ear grin.

“What the hell?” Terry asked in confusion.

“It’s the silver dollar yuh give my sister,” Daryl said laughing and pushing the silver dollar across the table with a finger.

“Huh?” Terry asked, being more confused than he could ever remember.

“Maybe you don’t ‘member,” Daryl continued, chuckling as he went, “she was the one what shoved a silver dollar in her mouth, but couldn’t close her mouth fer the size of it.”

“That was your sister?” Terry blurted his own smile reappearing.

“Yessir,” Daryl answered with enthusiasm.

“And you ain’t sore none?” Terry asked in disbelief.

“Heck no, Mr. Simms,” Daryl said smiling merrily as Terry sat in stunned disbelief, “you done made my little sister near as well knowed as you are. I don’t reckon there ain’t nobody west of the Mississippi what ain’t heard that story. Why there ain’t a year goes by at the fair,” Daryl continued, taking on a proud look, “what someone don’t come up and ask me would I tell ‘em the story ‘bout how my sister come to be the only person in the whole wide world what met Terry Simms and come away double her money.”

“I’ll be damned,” Terry said laughing, “I will be damned, you know I almost shot you.”

“I seen that,” Daryl said through his Laughter, “I was kinda figgerin’ what I’d flip that silver dollar in the air to yuh, but sein’ the look in yer eye, I figgered I best not.”

“Damn good thing you didn’t,” Terry said, then his eyes took on a thoughtful look, “What about yer ma?” he asked carefully, “wasn’t she there too?”

“I reckon you musta missed that part of the story,” Daryl said a cold look coming to his eyes, “she’s the one what run off and left me a sittin’ there in Dodge, she just scooped up my little sister and off she went, didn’t never even look back once.”

“Yer shittin’ me?” Terry asked wondering how a woman could do something like that. Even with all the things Terry had done, his ma had always been good to him.

“Nossir,” Daryl said sadly, “When I found out you done robbed her, well I reckon she got what she had comin’.” Daryl’s expression immediately brighten, “Hey,” he said as he quickly spun up from the table and took down a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses, “I been savin’ this fer a special occasion.”

As Daryl poured the shot glasses full, Terry silently thanked his lucky stars that the giant hadn’t been after trouble. The quickness of motion Daryl used in getting the whiskey, made Terry wonder if he’d have gotten enough lead into the giant to slow him down before he made it across the table.

“To you robbin’ my ma,” Daryl said laughing, as they tinked their shot glasses together, “and making my sister knowed.”

“I don’t reckon I’ve ever been thanked for robbin’ someone before,” Terry said after he tossed down his shot and stood slowly. He went to the office door and motioned for the other men to come inside.

“Hey,” Terry said with a mischievous look in his eye and giving a wink, “go with me on this one.” As the other men entered, Terry took on a serious look and Daryl followed suit.

There were plenty of chairs around, and the other three men sat hesitantly.

“Boys,” Terry began quietly, “you ‘member when?”

Terry paused looking at Daryl, “How long ago was that?”

“Right near twelve years,” Daryl said nodding thoughtfully, “I disremember exactly when.”

“Long about twelve years ago,” Terry continued gesturing with a hand to his brother Frank, “we robbed a train headin’ from Dodge to Wichita.”

Frank nodded slowly, a look of confusion on his face. They’d robbed several trains from Dodge to Wichita.

“This’n was special,” Terry said nodding to Frank, “remember the one with the little girl that had the silver dollar in her mouth?”

“I remember,” Frank said, as the other two men nodded also. The other two men hadn’t been with Terry then, but everyone knew the story.

“This here’s her brother,” Terry said nodding to Daryl and purposely adding a coldness to his voice.

Daryl had caught on to what Terry was doing and stared coldly at the others.

It got the response Terry was hoping for as the other three collectively held their breaths and stared at the giant blacksmith.

Daryl, not having the age and experience that Terry did, lost it first. Daryl burst out laughing at the expressions on the other outlaw’s faces and Terry followed soon after.

“What kind of shit is this!?” Frank barked, smacking Terry on the arm.

“It’s true,” Terry said through his Laughter and pointing to the still laughing Daryl, “it’s him.”

“Huh,” Frank said with confusion.

For the next hour, the five men sat at Daryl’s table talking, laughing and drinking whiskey. By the end, all four of the outlaws agreed that Daryl’s ma definitely deserved to get robbed.

The conversation ended when Jeb came in to ask a question and Daryl remembered that he was the blacksmith and the men had obviously come to him for a reason. Daryl answered Jeb’s question, explained that the men were folks he knew from Dodge City, and sent Jeb home for supper.

“Actually,” Terry replied to Daryl’s question, “we were just wanting to board up for the night and get somethin’ to eat.”

“Consider it done,” Daryl said confidently to Terry, “and don’t think yer payin’ me neither. Them horses are gonna git the best takin’ care of they ever had. As fer food, Theresa May’s got the best food this side of the Mississippi,” Daryl ended by nodding in the direction of the restaurant.

“I’d be much obliged if’n you didn’t tell abouts who we are,” Terry said motioning with a hand to his group.

“I’d make a deal with yuh if’n you’d let me,” Daryl said thoughtfully, “If’n you’d say you wasn’t gonna rob nobody hear-abouts, I’d sure be happy with that.”

“Fair enough,” Terry said brightly. They’d just done a job a week ago and all four men had their pockets full, “Now where’s this top notch grub you was braggin’ on?”

Daryl walked the outlaws to Theresa May’s and introduced them as folks he knew from Dodge City that were just passing through. The outlaws had the best meal they could remember and afterwards, Daryl left them at the restaurant and returned to finish his work.

“Did you see him?” Theresa May asked Mary Anne, who was already making goo-goo eyes at Daryl’s friend Frank.

“I know,” Mary Anne said with a sigh of relief, “he sure looked better.”

“Maybe he just needed some old friends to stop by,” Theresa May said in her motherly fashion, “Y’know, someone from home.”

“He’ll be okay now,” Mary Anne added, smiling at the worrying Theresa May, now maybe they both would.

Daryl’s hammer began pinging down the street. Theresa May and Mary Anne smiled at each other as the ringing somehow sounded happier again.

Daryl worked until the sun started to set. He felt stronger than he had in the past few months and the steel seemed to once again sing to him as he worked.

He also noticed that his mind occasionally drifted to the upcoming fair and he found himself once again looking forward to it.

As he hung his apron on the nail where it belonged he looked down the street at Theresa May’s.

The lights in the dining area were still burning brightly and he could hear their Laughter and uplifted voices. Theresa May had seemed a little sadder since Merle died. Her smile had somehow lost its shine. Daryl heard her voice joined with the Laughter of the others and smiled as he started for bed, now maybe she would be okay.

***

Daryl awoke as he did every morning but this morning he had a different feeling than in the recent past. He felt good. He sat on the edge of his bed and breathed in the fresh air as he dressed and for the first time in several months, he realized with a huge grin, he was hungry.

Daryl hurried to the restaurant to find Terry, Frank and the other two, already enjoying their breakfasts.

“You were damn sure right about this grub,” Terry said through a mouthful of flapjacks, “this is good.”

“Yes sir,” Daryl said with a smile to Theresa May as she set a huge pile of flapjacks in front of him that made Frank’s eyes bulge, “ain’t no better eatin’ in the world than right here.”

“Well thank you,” Theresa May said to all the nods of agreement as the men were stuffing their faces. She was standing between Daryl and Terry when she started refilling the coffee cups of the men.

Instead of going around the table she leaned forward to fill the cups of the men seated across the table, her other hand on Terry’s shoulder for balance.

Just as she completed filling Frank’s cup and was leaning back, Terry reached over and pinched her on the behind.

“How dare you,” Theresa May said as she turned and gave Terry a half-hearted slap on the shoulder.

Terry looked up at Theresa May with a shit-eatin’ grin.

Theresa May’s lips started to pull back into a smile of her own, until she remembered that Daryl was seated at the table also. Theresa May looked quickly at Daryl, who had a stunned look of wonder on his face. She blushed ten shades of red and hurried from the table.

“You didn’t?” Daryl asked Terry, his face blooming with excitement.

“She asked me would I,” Terry said humbly, continuing with his breakfast.

“Does she know who you are?” Daryl asked almost reverently, “I mean who you really are?”

“Close enough,” Terry said, sipping coffee that had never tasted this good, “she knows I’m a friend of yours from Dodge City.”

“Oh my god,” Daryl said, his excitement level rising steadily, “you gotta let me tell her. I mean, I know I said I wouldn’t say nothin’,” Daryl continued nearly ready to burst from excitement, “but yuh gotta let me.”

Terry and Frank exchanged thoughtful looks which Daryl interpreted correctly.

“She won’t say nothin’,” Daryl said gently, “she ain’t like that.”

Their conversation came to a screeching halt as Mary Anne arrived at the table with a huge glass of milk for Daryl.

“What the hell did you say to her?” Mary Anne asked forcefully to Daryl, “that girl’s red as a beet.”

“I didn’t say nothin’,” Daryl answered truthfully, shrugging his shoulders and doing his best impersonation of innocence.

Mary Anne paused, considered taking his milk back to the kitchen, but grudgingly decided to leave it.

“Women can’t keep a secret to save their life,” Frank said with a nod to Terry after Mary Anne had left the table.

Terry pondered for a moment, “I tell you what,” he said with a sly look in his eye, “you give us a full day’s ride, then you go ahead.”

“What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall when that happens,” one of the other men said with a chuckle as Daryl began attempting to eat his breakfast while laughing at the upcoming event.

After breakfast, Daryl walked the men back to the stable where all four horses stood saddled and ready.

“A full day’s ride, right?” Terry said cautiously to Daryl.

“Yessir,” Daryl said, still grinning ear to ear, “I won’t give a peep till then.”

Daryl shook hands with each of the outlaws. They headed out and he merrily returned to work, feeling as if a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The rest of the day went along on a some-what normal basis. One of the exceptions being, that at every meal time, when Daryl and Theresa May’s eyes met, he would begin chuckling and she would blush and leave the room.

Zeb and Jeb were tickled pink that their boss was back to his old self. Daryl was telling jokes again and even though they’d heard them all before, they were still funny. He smiled constantly and would occasionally chuckle for no reason, which made their work seem lighter.

***

After breakfast the next day Theresa May couldn’t stand it any longer.

Mary Anne had just left to run errands, with Daryl sitting at his usual table stealing occasional glances at Theresa May and chuckling.

“Okay,” Theresa May said standing in front of Daryl, her metal water pitcher in one hand. She’d sucked up her courage and promised herself she wouldn’t blush, “Get it off your chest.”

Daryl stood slowly and took Theresa May gently by the shoulders, “I reckon you’d oughta sit down first,” he said chuckling as he guided her backwards towards a chair.

“I can stand!” Theresa May said defiantly crossing her arms, sloshing the water around in the pitcher. The anger she felt at having her own…a giant boy telling her to sit down, helped keep her emotions in order.

“Okay,” Daryl began while attempting to keep his voice straight, his eyes filled with excited anticipation, “Now my friend Terry, I told you I knowed him from Dodge City, right? And that’s all true,” Daryl continued, as he gently but firmly held Theresa May’s shoulders, “I reckon maybe I never got around to tellin’ yuh how it was I knowed him.”

Theresa May’s look turned to growing concern mixed with confusion. She hadn’t expected the conversation to go anywhere but straight to the point the men had been laughing about at the table at yesterday’s breakfast.

“Yuh see,” Daryl continued, the expression on Theresa May’s face assisting him in controlling his voice, “when I was little, Terry was nice enough to give my little sister a silver dollar.”

“What?” Theresa May asked slowly. Then it hit her like a brick. Daryl had told her that story his first year at the fair and she’d heard him retell it at least a hundred times to others.

“Oh my god,” Theresa May breathed at the realization of who Terry really was. It was a good thing that Daryl had steered her backwards to a chair before he started because she leaned backwards and plopped into it, dropping the water pitcher on the floor.

Daryl exploded with roaring Laughter, so hard and loud that he lost his balance and fell to the floor clutching his stomach.

As Theresa May stared into nowhere, a lost expression on her face and occasionally muttering “oh my god”, Daryl rolled around on the floor bellowing with Laughter.

Each time Daryl’s Laughter began to slow, he would look at Theresa May, slumped back in the chair like she’d been dropped off a mountain, and his Laughter renewed itself.

Finally, out of self defense, Daryl brought himself to his hands and knees and still roaring with Laughter, he started crawling to the door. He’d finally neared the door and began reaching for the handle, when Mary Anne, having heard the roaring Laughter, came bursting in.

At least, that’s what she meant to do!

The door banged into Daryl’s head, which Mary Anne having not anticipated, caused her to bump into the door, which of course caused the door to bang into Daryl’s head again. All of which brought Daryl into a renewed roaring of Laughter as he rolled out of the way, clutching his stomach.

“What the…” Mary Anne said smiling as she saw Daryl rolling back and forth on the floor bellowing with Laughter. Her expression immediately filled with shocked concern as she saw Theresa May slumped back in the chair, staring off into nowhere, a stunned look on her face.

“Theresa May,” Mary Anne called fearfully, as she hurried over, “honey what’s wrong?” With no response from Theresa May, Mary Anne dipped a hand into the water pitcher and gently patted it on her face. “Honey wake up, what’s wrong?” Mary Anne continued with growing concern, giving Daryl a vicious look as he crawled, still howling with Laughter, out the door.

“Terry,” Theresa May breathed out quietly, her eyes unfocused.

“Right, Terry,” Mary Anne responded as she dipped her hand into the pitcher again and patted more water on Theresa May’s face.

“Frank,” Theresa May breathed, still staring off into space.

“Uh-huh, Frank,” Mary Anne replied, her concern lessening only slightly at the fact that Theresa May was again endowed with the power of speech.

“Simms,” Theresa May breathed out slightly louder.

“Huh?” Mary Anne asked as she stood, a look of confusion on her face. She went through her memory, which was really very good, for the names of all the men that had been here yesterday.

“Honey there weren’t no Simms,” she said as she leaned forward again and resumed patting Theresa May’s face with more water.

“Silver Dollar,” Theresa May breathed slowly.

“They all paid,” Mary Anne said reassuringly, “Its okay.”

“Terry,” Theresa May breathed again.

“Terrrrryyyy,” Mary Anne coaxed gently, now trying to find the hidden meaning or at least some pattern to go by.

“And Frank,” Theresa May said, some strength coming to her voice.

“And Frrrraaannnk,” Mary Anne said gently, knowing that this secret code had to be leading somewhere.

“Simms,” Theresa May sighed out as if all her energy had been used in transferring the information.

“Huh,” Mary Anne said as she stood again trying to put the information into order. It was a well known fact, by all the women at least, that Mary Anne was the smartest woman they had ever known. To the men, she was said to be too damn smart for her own good.

Mary Anne swirled the pieces of information in her brain for only an instant when the “Silver Dollar” fit into the puzzle.

“Oh! My! God!” Mary Anne blurted as she bent forward and looked into Theresa May’s face. Mary Anne took a deep breath and as she returned standing she howled with Laughter, falling sideways onto the table.

And Theresa May was cured!

“It’s not funny!” Theresa May shrieked as Mary Anne held her stomach and rolled back and forth on the table laughing uncontrollably.

“Oh! Yes! It! Is!” Mary Anne forced out through her Laughter.

As Mary Anne howled with Laughter, slapping her feet on the table, Theresa May stomped to the door.

“Daryl Eugene Wilson!” she screamed at the giant boy only halfway across the street, “you get your big butt back in here! Right! Now!”

Daryl, who had just gotten back to his feet and was delighting Zeb and Jeb, who were standing at the shop, laughing along with whatever the joke was, took one look at the furious Theresa May and fell down again, laughing.

Theresa May paced for what seemed to her like forever, before the still laughing Daryl staggered in.

“Just……I..I can’t…..oooooh…..you,” Theresa May began thoughtfully, barking at Daryl, “and you…..ooooh!” she finished furiously to Mary Anne before crossing her arms and sitting again in the chair she had occupied.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl said, trying to sound apologetic as he walked across the room and knelt in front of Theresa May.

“You could have told me!” Theresa May scolded.

“There weren’t no way I could’a knowed you was gonna do that,” Daryl said still chuckling.

Theresa May drew in a deep breath as she remembered what she thought the original conversation was going to be about, “He told you,” she said her cheeks immediately reddening.

“Not really… I sorta guessed” Daryl said apologetically as Mary Anne, hoping for a better view of Theresa May’s expression, rolled over, misjudged the edge of the table and splattered on the floor.

“You deserve that!” Theresa May barked as Daryl and Mary Anne continued laughing, as much at each other as Theresa May.

Since Laughter is definitely contagious, it didn’t take long before Theresa May began chuckling, “Oh my god,” she said laughing gently, “Terry Simms,” she finished with more than a little pride in her voice.

All Daryl could tell the boys was that he’d played a joke on Theresa May, but that was enough for them. They laughed the rest of the day just remembering Daryl crawling across the street.

It was less than a month later when the town of Lamar learned of the death of Terry Simms and how he had been killed. A few days after that, Daryl learned that how he died wouldn’t have mattered, Terry’s death would have happened anyway.

There was a posse of lawmen heading towards the town where Terry had been staying. They had learned of his location and had planned to take him back, “deader” than alive.

As Daryl entered the restaurant that day, Theresa May was hanging a small wooden cross on the wall with the initials T.S. on the sides. There was no sadness, no mourning in her eyes, just the look of happy memories that could never be taken away from her.

Lost In Dodge

My adoptive dad (not legally, but I claim him and he occasionally claims me) has published his first book, Lost In Dodge. The link will take you to the Authorhouse website, or you can order it from Barnes and Noble, Borders, or Amazon.

I've been awaiting the official publication of this book with bated breath. I was lucky enough to get to read the early version, and immediately upon completion, I demanded an autographed copy for myself.

It arrived in the mail today. Of course, I'm not sure if it counts as autographed, since the signature at the end of the note on the flyleaf reads "My love, Me" but what can you do? I'll smack him for it later.

This is a great story, folks. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll laugh until you cry. Go buy it, you won't be disappointed.

And Now for Something Completely Different...

Tev brought me a Christmas present. Some of these.

Finally opened them up and tried them today, and oh my god they're delicious. I've eaten quite a few of them already, and I need to stop otherwise I'm not going to sleep for a week.

This is the chocolate covered snack of the Gods.

Go, get them. Eat them. Bounce off the walls.

'Scuse me now, I have to go run a triathalon before my leg jitters so hard it falls off. :D

AD's Bribe

Apparently, Jane has enthralled a few others as much as she has me. AD even flat out states that he's hooked, which is a high compliment indeed.

In fact, he offered me a bribe for Chapter Two. He offered to post something new on his regular blog, (which he didn't, naughty naughty!) plus a new Star of Life chapter if I would agree to have Chapter Two up by Wednesday. Now, I've been working on it, and I've got some good stuff, but I'm so excited about reading new Star of Life material that I'm just... well, I can't concentrate to finish it!

Yep, AD. I'm holding Jane and friends hostage against you actually doing what you said you would! So, folks, if you want more of Jane and her oddball talents, you'll have to bug the crap out of AD to get that post up.

Maybe between all of us bugging him, he'll follow through this time. He's been promising that chapter for a long time now, with no explanation for why it didn't get put up, so I figure he deserves this.

At least as much as MattG deserved the snark he got over the first Perspectives.......

Go, my minions! Go and harass the writer! *evil mastermind laugh*

** If this actually works, I'll dance around like a crazy person yelling "I have minions!! Wooot!" On the other hand, if no one else bugs AD, I'll wind up looking like a real tool. So do me a favor folks, I don't want to look like a tool. Plus, you know, my self esteem would be crushed.
No, I have absolutely no problem with pity minions. Whatever works to get that next chapter.

Something New For The New Year

I know I've been quiet lately. Nothing exciting has been happening in real life, and I've been working, off and on, on my latest little pet project. Yes, this means the beginning to yet another story without finishing others. I am still trying to work on Men In Black Suits, I swear. It's just not... ready for human consumption yet.

Really, neither is this, but it's what I've been working on, and I'd like to get an opinion from folks on it. Please remember, this is a rough draft. Of the first chapter. Of what promises to be an actual book if I can keep my duckies in a huddle long enough to get it down on paper in a satisfactory manner.

Considering the fact that Jane and her friends keep sneaking into my dreams, and bludgeoning me with the fact that they want to tell their story, I may actually be able to keep my admittedly short attention span on it long enough to actually do something with it.

I promise you, I am still trying to find the rest of the Men in Black Suits story, but those guys are apparently still mad at me for the whole catheter thing, and refuse even to negotiate, so far. As soon as some kind of compromise is reached with them, I'll give you the rest of their story, because I know you all want to see it, and because I really don't want to have this follow me around like the infamous Pink Gorilla Suit of legend.

So, without further ado, I give you my latest project, Jane. (Give me a break, it's a working title.) ((This is fictional. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely because the people I stole characteristics from are so incredibly inspiring. And because I suck at creating characters with any depth without a whole truckload of help.))

_____________

“Look at her go!” Jane heard the shouts and catcalls of the students and instructors with only part of her attention. Mostly she was focused on the thousand pounds of horseflesh she was seated upon, which was currently doing its best impression of a rodeo bronc.

Dangit, Speckles, knock it off, you’re embarrassing me! Jane thought as she attempted to settle herself further into the saddle, to prevent Speckles from popping her out of it like a champagne cork.

The arena she was working in was deep sand, which she figured she would wind up being grateful for shortly. It was surrounded by white-painted pipe, outside of which were Jane’s classmates and two of the instructors. All of whom were laughing uproariously.

Suddenly Speckles stopped- hard- throwing his weight forward, and caught Jane by surprise, sending her flying over his shoulder. She let go of the reins, tucked into a ball so that she wouldn’t land flat on her face, and let it happen. The world tilted around her, and she caught the barest glimpse of the ground rushing up to meet her as she flipped over and tried not to tense. Unfortunately, her body had different ideas, and she managed to get the air knocked out of her as she landed on her back.

When all the pretty colors stopped swirling in front of her eyes, she opened them, staring up a moment at the blue sky and getting her breath back. A sudden hot breeze on the top of her head told her where Speckles was, which was shortly confirmed by Speckles himself whuffling his way to her face and lipping at her nose.

“Stop it, you. No kisses, you’re in trouble.” Jane shoved the horse nose out of her way and levered herself up with a groan.

::People make funny noise::

“Shut up, horse. It wasn’t funny.” Speck’s mental voice was dripping with amusement.

::People make funny noise, after people jump::

“I didn’t jump, you dumped me. Be quiet, I can’t talk to you now.” Meredith and BJ were approaching, ostensibly to check on Jane, really to chuckle and gloat.

“That was beautiful, you made a very graceful arc, you know.” Meredith was a short woman, who felt no need to make up for her lack in height with a big ego. Her brown eyes twinkled with mirth.

“It was a pretty nice ride, I think you made the full eight seconds. But you didn’t spur out of the chute, so I’ll have to count you off for that.” BJ looked down at Jane with a grin.

“Very funny. I could be seriously injured here, and you guys are laughing at me,” Jane grumbled, dusting her jeans off as she slowly stood up. A sudden pain in her back told her where she was going to be sore and stiff for the next few days, and she twisted and stretched to relieve the muscle spasm before it left her bent over like an old lady.

“If you were seriously hurt, you wouldn’t have gotten up. You know better than that.” Merideth’s eyes still held their twinkle as she snuck up on Speckles, grabbing his reins before he could wander off and initiate a game of chase-me, chase-me.

“You mean like she knew not to ride for three hours the day after she got kicked in the… er… business?” BJ grinned even bigger than Merideth, recalling the very painful reminder that Jane had received, not to get too close to the south end of a wound up horse.

“Well, that should have taught her a lesson. After all, the only one she hurt then was herself, the rest of us had a great time laughing at her hobbling around.”

“She did learn a lesson, she learned that people like to talk about her in the third person when she’s standing right in front of them.” Jane mock-glared at her instructors, setting her fists on her hips and narrowing her eyes.

Really, she was glad that she had instructors with a sense of humor. She would have put up with just about anything for two years to get her degree, but with Merideth and BJ around, it was downright fun.

“Ok then, smarty pants. What do you think you did to set Speckles off?” Merideth stood with one hand on the horse in question, and he, the attention hound, was nosing her hip, begging for stroking. That is, until he heard his name, and then he turned to Jane with an expectant look as near to those that Merideth and BJ were wearing as a horse could get.

“I existed.” Jane muttered, knowing exactly why Speckles had suddenly gone from mild mannered pleasure horse to crazy rodeo bronc. She’d taken her attention off of him for a split second to worry about her own form, and he’d known it.

That’s the problem with talking to animals with your mind, Jane thought. They tend to learn to listen in, and know when you’re not really all there.

::Yes. So?::

::Shush, you.::

“Well you spurred him pretty good coming around in that roll back, and that might have done it if he was feeling froggy.” Merideth had fallen into her teaching mode, and her eyes were faintly distant as she reviewed the moments before the impromptu show.

“I think he was just feeling frisky, and I wasn’t paying as much attention to him as I should have. I was trying to remember what you told me about pushing through my seat, instead of focusing on my horse.” Jane owned up to the mistake right away, but didn’t admit how she knew it. Merideth and BJ were amazing trainers, but what they accomplished came from years of experience and an unusual knowledge of equine social structures and body language, not talking to them.

“You could be right. He’s been fighting that right roll back for a few days now, but I haven’t seen anything that would suggest a physical problem as a cause.” BJ eyed Speckles’s legs, and Jane smothered a giggle when Speckles dropped his head to look at BJ’s jean clad legs in return.

“He hasn’t got a fat leg, there’s no heat or tenderness, he’s not even getting stocked up in the stall.” Jane knew for a fact that there was nothing wrong with Speckles, but she had to list the common ailments of the leg as if she’d checked for them. She had, but asking the horse if his legs hurt wasn’t a typical method of evaluating those things.

“Well, get back on him and try it again. Finish the pattern this time.” Merideth grinned and handed over Jane’s reins before walking back to the arena fence, followed by BJ.

Jane, meanwhile, took a deep breath and mounted up, settling herself in the saddle as she opened the mental “door” that let her talk to critters without having to talk out loud. Not that too many would comment on it if she did, she’d established a reputation for talking to her horses as if they could understand early on, and it was considered a minor eccentricity by now.

::That was not nice.:: Jane’s mental voice was stern as she kneed Speckles into a slow lope, and guided him in a couple of circles, ostensibly to make sure he wasn’t going to buck again, but really to buy time to talk to him.

::People wouldn’t talk to me.:: Speckles pouted, flicking his ears back at her.

::I’ve explained that to you a dozen times! How are you going to go on to another rider if you don’t know how to feel the cues? Your next rider won’t be able to talk to you.:: Jane sighed to herself and started the pattern over, keeping half of her attention on the conversation that no one else knew about.

::Don’t want other rider. Want People to talk to me.:: The horse’s tone said that as far as he was concerned, the matter was settled.

::I can’t always talk to you, you know that. And you’re old enough to start using pronouns and names. I’m not going to answer to People anymore.:: Jane sighed as she asked Speckles to give her a little more bend in his circles- with her hands and her knees, not with her mind- and thought about how long it would take her to teach him to use names. She really would answer to “People” for a while yet, until he got his mind wrapped around the concept of names and remembered to use them.

::People’s name is People. Legs said so:: Speckles delivered the last with the true belief of a herd member. Legs was lead mare, so whatever she told the others was truth, anything else was conjecture until she ruled on it.

::Legs said so, to you, because you couldn’t understand individual names when you came to the herd. You call us all People, but you know we’re different, just like you and Legs are different. You’re both hoof-kin, but you’re not the same hoof-kin. Understand?:: Horses needed that absolute faith in the lead mare, or the lead mare and the stallion together, in the wild. Otherwise the subordinate members of the herd might question at the wrong moment, and get killed.

::Yes, understand. But peo… you… call me Specks. Name isn’t Specks, it’s Speckles. Cause of my coat. Is pretty enough to give me name at birth.:: Speckles’s voice was full of pride, and well it should be. He was an American Quarter Horse, and some accident of genetics had given him a sorrel red coat with a dusting of dark speckles, which condensed on his legs to give him black socks. His mane and tail were a blend of the same red as his coat and dark brown. It was a very unusual coloration, unusual enough that his dam had named him at birth, rather than following the tradition of waiting until a foal was old enough to show personality.

::Specks is a shortened version of Speckles. It’s your name, still, just shortened so that it’s not such a mouthful. A nickname.:: Jane explained patiently. Speckles was only three years old, and he’d been born on a ranch neighboring her family’s. Most horses that lived on their place understood human names early on, because their dams knew it, and taught them. They also had a lot more to occupy their minds than a horse that didn’t have people really talking to it every day. The whole nature versus nurture debate was a non issue in her parents’ house. They knew for certain that a mind that’s challenged and introduced to new concepts built its mental muscles and functioned better than a mind that wasn’t, and settled into complacency. Jane sometimes caught herself thinking of animals that hadn’t been exposed to her and her parents as stupid, although it wasn’t true. They just weren’t as smart in a human sense.

Jane sighed to herself and guided Speckles out of the last circle and into the rest of the pattern they were supposed to be riding. After a second’s thought she transferred both her reins to one hand and neck reined, thinking that the work she’d put in on that part of Speckles’s training might just get her some brownie points from the instructors after the earlier debacle.

::People… Jane?:: The horse’s mental tone was hesitant, even timid. Usually he was boisterous and cheerful, a match to his young age and extravagant coloring.

::Yes, Speckles?:: Jane concentrated on giving the proper cues with her body, instead of giving her mount the mental images of what she wanted.

::….Are you mad?::

Jane sighed again. ::No, I’m not mad. But that doesn’t mean you can get away with dumping people on their behinds if you get bored.:: Jane made her voice stern on the last part. Speckles understood that Jane was above him in the herd hierarchy, although she wasn’t as strict about protocol as she could be. If it weren’t for her two legged status, Jane’s mother would be lead mare. It was a complicated social situation with humans in the herd, but one that had been worked out long ago, when humans first began to domesticate horses.

::I know. I am sorry.:: They reached the end of the pattern, and Jane gave Speckles the cues for a stop. Speckles, true to his contrition, performed flawlessly, bending his back and stopping on his haunches.

::I know, big boy. Apology accepted.:: She patted his neck and told him out loud what a good boy he was, before kneeing him forward to applause from her classmates. Speckles pranced out of the arena, smoothing out his stride like a pro, which made the applause even louder.

“Looks like he just needed to get it out of his system.” Merideth stood at the horse’s shoulder and patted his neck, looking up at Jane.

“He’s a brat, but when he decides to work, he does it right.” Jane smiled at her teacher and moved to the side of the arena gate, so that the next student could get in.

“Well, he’s definitely a brat. If you ever get him past that stubborn streak I think he’ll make a good horse, though.”

“Speaking of that stubborn streak, I think I’ll go see if I can wear some of that excess energy off. Maybe then he’ll listen and we can work on that right side roll back.”

Merideth chuckled. “Good idea. Take him out on the trails for a while and run some of that wild off.”

Jane turned Speckles and maneuvered him through the other horses, laughing at the cat calls of her fellow students. She was heading for the trail head. The facilities at the college had forty acres, and enough trails to provide “open” ground for exercise. It wasn’t her family’s ranch by a long shot, but it was better than nothing. The main attraction of the trails just then was a smidgen of privacy.

She kept speckles at a slow trot until they’d reached the trail she wanted, and passed the first curve. Then she dropped her reins and grabbed a fistful of his mane, and he jumped into a high lope that was just short of a gallop. Technically faster than they were supposed to go, but she had the perfect excuse in his misbehavior earlier.

Jane grinned. She was running the wild out of him, just like she’d been told.

**********

“Hey, Edmund.” Jane sat atop her mount at the side of the second arena, which was set up for the rodeo team. A classmate, Edmund was a steer wrestler, and just then he was practicing his exit from the box.

“Hey Jane, what’s up?” Edmund walked his horse, Rebel, calmly out of the box and over to the railing where she was watching. Edmund was a long tall drink of water, with a real rapport with horses, and an excellent talent for filling out a pair of Wranglers. His brown eyes twinkled with perpetual good humor, and his coffee-colored skin shone a little with perspiration.

“Just got done working goober here out on the trails, thought I’d stop by and see how things are going on my way back to the barn.” Jane liked to watch the rodeo team practice. The fact that she busted out laughing at odd moments was mostly overlooked. Not many knew that she heard the roping and wrestling steers talking smack about the cowboys.

“Looks like you worked him pretty hard,” Edmund said with a smile as he eyed the sweat on Speckles.

“Oh, I’m sure you caught his performance during the pattern. He needed to burn off some energy, so we ran some of it out of him.” Jane grinned at Edmund, knowing that he would understand her enthusiasm. It wasn’t often that they got to go faster than a nice relaxed lope in class, and the steer wrestler understood the rush of letting a little bit of go-fast out of your horse.

“Yeah, I saw. Nice riding, but you didn’t spur him out.” Edmund grinned right back.

“That’s what BJ said, I’ll have to work on that.” Jane rolled her eyes and shifted Speckles over a couple of steps, just to make sure he was paying attention.

“He really is coming along. He’s gonna make a nice little horse when you’re done.” Edmund eyed Speckles with the assessing look he wore when he was calculating what a mount might be worth.

“Thinking of taking him off my hands? He’s been wanting to try chasing hisself down some of them steers.” Jane kicked herself mentally as soon as the cheerfully hick accented words were out of her mouth. With his skill and empathy with horses she sometimes forgot that Edmund didn’t talk to them, and didn’t know that she could.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Edmund laughed. “Every time you bring him down here when we’re practicing he gets antsy and looks for the gate in. I’ve seen him eyeing the steers in the chute, too.”

Jane sighed with relief. “Well maybe I’ll stick around some time after class and help ya’ll push steers during practice. See if he’s half as excited about it after it turns into work.”

“I’m sure that’d be fine, we might be able to make a few more runs if we weren’t having to push the steers ourselves.” Edmund was eyeing the box, which had been occupied by another team member. This one’s horse was trying to break out as soon as her butt hit the back, and her rider was doing some exercises to try and get her mind back on what he wanted her to do.

“Working on your break from the box?” Jane liked Edmund, and she liked his horse, who had been quiet while she talked to his rider. More herd politics. Maybe there was something she could help the cowboy with.

“Yeah, he’s hesitating in the corner. I haven’t figured out why yet. At least he’s not going box sour like Stephen’s mare.”

Jane thought for a moment. “Why don’t you make a couple of runs and I’ll see if I can spot anything? An outside perspective couldn’t hurt.”

“Sure, maybe you can see it.” Edmund turned Rebel back towards the end of the arena, and Jane rode Speckles over to his favorite spot, right by the box, where he could see the action.

::Rebel?:: Jane acknowledged the horse with her contact, which gave him permission to speak to her. The dominant herd member always initiated conversations.

::Hello, Jane.:: Rebel was older than Speckles, and although he hadn’t been around her nearly as much, had gotten the concept of names right off. He still referred to Edmund as “Friend,” but Jane thought that was a sign of their relationship rather than Rebel’s intelligence.

::What’s the problem, bud? What’s making you hesitate when they turn the steer loose?:: Rebel loved what he did, so the hesitation had to have a cause.

::The last time we were at a… rodeo… I hit the rope fence before it opened. Friend was upset. If I wait, I never hit the rope fence, but Friend is still upset.:: Rebel’s voice was anxious, and he danced a little coming into the box.

::Oh, Rebel, that happens sometimes.:: Jane caught Edmund’s eye. “Give it a shot.”

::I don’t want Friend to be upset.:: Rebel stopped prancing as he backed into the corner of the box and waited for Edmund to cue him forward and out.

::He wasn’t upset with you…:: That was all Jane got out before Edmund dropped his reins and kicked Rebel’s sides. She saw the hesitation before the sorrel horse shot forward out of the box, tearing down the arena.

::He was upset.:: Rebel knew only that his rider- his friend, and herd mate- was upset after something that he’d done. They were coming back now, and Jane tried to figure out how to explain it to Rebel in a way that he would understand.

“Give me a second to think.” Edmund was looking at her expectantly. She’d gained a reputation here of being able to “read” horses, figure out what was causing their actions and how it could be fixed.

“Has he broken the barrier recently?” She knew the answer, but Edmund didn’t know that.

“Yeah, at the last rodeo. That’s when this started. He’s not hesitating at the end of the box, though.”

“Well, he’s a smart horse. He’s broken the barrier before, he knows it’s there and it goes away when the steer gets out there. Maybe he got popped by the end of it on a shoulder.” Edmund looked at Jane, thoughtful.

“Maybe, I can see that, but how do I fix it if that’s the case?”

“I’m working on that, give me a minute.” Jane stared at Rebel, as if in thought.

::Friend was upset because when you break the barrier, it adds time to the score, and you can’t win if you have that added time.:: Jane had explained to Rebel about scores and times in rodeo competitions, when she explained to him why his rider kept asking him to chase down the steers and then didn’t do anything to them.

::But I want friend to win! Friend is happy when we are faster than all of the others.::

::Me too, but you can’t win if you’re hesitating in the box, either. That adds time too. Breaking the barrier happens, Rebel. It’s a chance that you take.::

::Friend doesn’t want me to wait?:: Rebel looked at Jane as she sat there chewing her thumbnail.

::No, Friend doesn’t want you to wait. Friend wants you to help each other so that you can get the steer fast without breaking the barrier.:: Jane was trying to think of something that she could tell Edmund to do to explain the sudden change in his horse.

“Walk him in and out a few times.”

::I won’t wait anymore.:: Rebel said in her head, as Edmund said “Ok then.”

::That’s great, Rebel, Friend will be happy.::

“Ok,” Jane said to Edmund as he settled Rebel back into the corner of the box. “I want you to try something. You don’t have to hold him in the corner, he doesn’t try to break out early, so I want you to drop your rein hand just as you nod for the steer. Use your legs just like you would normally.”

“I’ll try it, but I don’t know if it’ll work.” Edmund was skeptical, since this didn’t seem to address the problem that Jane had invented at all.

“Well, at the very least you won’t be holding him back by accident when you want him to go, right?” Jane kept her voice light, kept the smugness out of it. She’d have enough time to be smug when Rebel didn’t hesitate.

“I wasn’t holding him back, but if you think it’ll work…”

Jane smirked a bit, “If you don’t try, you’ll never know, will you?”

Edmund sighed and settled himself in the saddle, looking at the empty chute as if he were competing. He took a deep breath, nodded and dropped his reins at the same time, and then kicked. Rebel shot out of the corner instantly, neck stretched out, running hell bent for leather to the other end of the arena, where he peeled off to the left and slowed. Just as he’d been trained.

Jane gloated a bit as Edmund leaned forward and praised his mount, stroking his neck and telling him he’d done the right thing. He rode back to Jane with a big grin.

“My work here is done,” Jane proclaimed in a solemn tone. “Now I’d better go put his royal brattiness back in his stall.”

“Thanks for the help! I don’t know why it worked, but it did.”

“Sometimes just the smallest change in routine can break them out of a rut that you don’t want them in.” Jane smiled back at Edmund and turned Speckles towards the barn.

::Thank you, Jane. I will not wait.:: Rebel’s tone was happy now that he’d figured out what would please his rider.

::No problem, Rebel, always happy to help. You can ask me for help next time you have a problem.:: Jane made sure to add the last part, so that Rebel would be able to approach her on the subject instead of waiting for her to talk to him.

::Thank you.::

Jane rode toward the hitching rails at the barn, a warm glow of satisfaction matching the spring sunshine on her skin. She was always glad to help a horse out, but in this case, she was glad to help the rider as well. Edmund was good with his horses, and she approved of his methods a lot more than some she’d seen. He was also what her father would call a “good ol’ boy,” in the strictest sense of the words.

Just then, her cell phone vibrated in its holster on her hip. Jane turned the ringer off during class, and anyone who knew her class schedule knew better than to call unless it was important. She checked the caller ID but didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Jane, it’s Joseph, Joseph Jones.” The alpha of the local werewolf pack. Jane hadn’t had many dealings with the local wolves, since they kept a really low profile. Wolves were definitely not native to this area, but the scarcity and high prices of unpopulated land in their native environs had driven them to the wide open plains.

“What is it, Joseph?” Jane kept her voice firm and chose her words carefully. She knew enough about wolves to know that if she didn’t treat him like an absolute equal, she would automatically become either his subordinate, or a challenger. Both would be bad.

“I need your help. I assume you’re at class now, but I need you to meet me today.” Joseph’s voice held a hint of a growl. Not good. Jane mulled over the pros and cons of leaving a stressed werewolf waiting, and settled on a compromise. A little time might help him calm down some before she showed up with all her soft vulnerable flesh. Too much time might have him pacing the floor and winding himself up further.

“I’ve got another thirty minutes of work to do here, but I can meet you after I’m done, say six thirty?” Joseph agreed and she named a restaurant that she knew wasn’t a frequent hang out of any of the pack members. She hung up and stared at the phone for a moment.

“Now what in the world could an alpha werewolf need my help for?”