835 replies to this topic

[Katia11]

How dare it?!? Tell it that it needs to start carrying its weight.

[Katia11]

The IDOJ gremlin got my last review! i hope it won't do that next time.

 

i didn't come here to tell you how much i need them to kiss or anything. not at all. 

[Mara=^.^=]

Guess what I’m writing on the train

Woooooooooo

 

This trip is still going to put me way behind in my writing schedule

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

DO NOT TEASE ME, MARA. OR I WILL APPEAR ON THE TRAIN NEXT TO YOU.  

[Mara=^.^=]

Also, this fucking UTC-8 coding issue is going to be the death of me. I cannot get Alex to commit to a timeline for upgrading.

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

I'm sorry. It is strange because it doesn't seem to hit every post.

[Mara=^.^=]

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

UHHHH HELLO??!?!?!? 

[JimmyxxCindy4EVER]

That is so cute!! Great work, as always, Mara!

[Katia11]

*sung to the tune of I’m gonna wash that man outa my hair*

She’s gonna shoot Eddie right out of the gate.
And send him to his grave.
Get the picture?
She’s gonna shoot Strych to protect everyone,
and then bang someone.


Eh. This fell apart at the end. But it’s more just meant to make you laugh anyway.

[Katia11]

Sounds very annoying. I’m sorry

[Katia11]

I can’t get over how tender that piece of artwork you posted above is. So dreamlike. A vision of something, a ghost lingering…. haunting.. it’s just good stuff.

[Mara=^.^=]

That is so cute!! Great work, as always, Mara!

 

Thanks, Em! 

 

I can’t get over how tender that piece of artwork you posted above is. So dreamlike. A vision of something, a ghost lingering…. haunting.. it’s just good stuff.

 

I really like how it came out. It was originally inspired by this piece, which I thought captured their emerging dynamic well, but my version ended up going in a very different direction.

 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

Oooo! But I can see the inspiration!!!

[Katia11]

I am totally normal. I’m not watching this topic like a freaking hawk or anything. What are you talking about?

[Mara=^.^=]

I am totally normal. I’m not watching this topic like a freaking hawk or anything. What are you talking about?

 

Typing up the Historical Shit and Bullshit Shit sections. The chapter itself still needs work

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

That’s fair. I can’t help myself though. lol

[Mara=^.^=]

*pants heavily* This chapter was a beast to write. I hope you enjoy reading it more than I enjoyed working on it

*******************************************************************************

Elke and Ignishka exchanged glances.

 

“You know where to find us,” said Elke, and the two of them turned back to the dance floor.

 

A cloud blotted out the sky as Tex trudged off, tasting evening tobacco on her tongue. Libby didn’t hear her coming. She stood motionless, half in light, half in shadow, and a subtle threat hummed below the surface. It wasn’t just the music, or the here-again-gone-again moon – the night itself was predatory. At any moment, it might unhinge its fearsome jaw, and lunge.

 

“Libs?” she prompted, approaching gingerly. “Everything all right?”

 

Tex couldn’t see the barkeep’s face – only her back. The checkered patterns on her dress swam in circles, playing leap-frog in the firelight.

 

“I’m fine,” she murmured quietly. “Just…lost in thought.”

 

You are most certainly not fine.

 

“I enjoyed your music earlier,” attempted Tex. “Are you done playing for the night?”

 

“My bow’s a wreck,” she said, “and anyways, my arm was gettin’ sore. Better to let Wendell have his turn.”

 

Tex was quiet for a minute. “You’re not going to dance?” she asked.

 

“Dance? Dance with whom?” Her voice sounded despondent.

 

“With me,” Tex answered forcefully, before she could talk herself out of it.

 

“You.”

 

“If you’d do me the honor…Miss Folfax.”

 

“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “I don’t think I’d make for very pleasant company.”

 

Tex followed Libby’s gaze out into the desert. She searched for signs of life – a campfire, a lantern, a billowing trail of dust – but nothing stood out. The best she could offer was a platitude.

 

“I’m sure the prospector is fine,” she reassured. “He’ll turn up eventually, like he always does.”

 

Libby sighed. “You’re probably right…but that’s really only half of it.”

 

“Then what’s the matter?”

 

A pause. “I just…I can’t shake this feelin’ that somethin’ awful is about to happen. Two of my closest friends are in danger, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. One carelessly risks his neck chasin’ daydreams in a wasteland, and the other has a target on his back. I feel completely useless.”

 

“What do you mean, ‘has a target on his back’?”

 

Libby turned to face her. Light and shadow switched places.

 

“Miss Deputy, or should I say Miss Bodyguard, I’ll be direct: who’s gunnin’ for the Sheriff?”

 

“Gunning…for…?” 

 

Panic reared up like a hydra. Tex took a single step backward, preparing to – what? Flee?

 

“Some scoundrel means to kill him. Don’t try to deny it. Tell me who it is.”

 

She couldn’t speak. Then she saw Libby’s determined expression, and she began to reverse-engineer the prior day’s events. In retrospect, Tex had been acting like a bodyguard. She was still acting like one. She was one.

 

Of course she sussed it out, thought Tex. Of course.

 

To hell with it.

 

“I can’t name names,” the gunslinger replied, “but I can tell you this: there were two people involved in the initial conspiracy against him. One of them is no longer a threat. As for the other, well…I’ll give it my best shot, but I fear my best might not be good enough. I’m excellent at what I do, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

 

“Why have you been keepin’ this from us? From all his friends?”

 

“That was his prerogative. Please don’t broach this topic with him, Libby – he made me promise to keep quiet.”

 

“Are you going to kill the other conspirator?” she asked, matter-of-factly.

 

Tex considered lying. She decided against it. “If I can,” she said.

 

“Good. Good riddance.”

 

“Good riddance?"

 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Her jewelry jingled. She was a glistening, poisonous butterfly – for a moment.

 

“I just…didn’t expect you to accept that so easily. Most people would balk upon discovering that their new friend is a murderer.”

 

Libby’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “I’m no pacifist, Miss Tex. My aunts and uncles didn’t go free because their masters had a change of heart – they went free because Sherman marched through Georgia and razed every last plantation to the ground. Some people just need killin’, plain and simple.”

 

“I’m no Union general, Miss Folfax,” emphasized Tex. “I have no army. I’m just a really bad person with a gun, trying to save one man.”

 

“A deadly person with a gun. And who cares? When the enslavers and despoilers come for me and mine, I don’t want some saintly do-gooder on my side. I want a friendly monster who will eat anyone who threatens me.”

 

The two women stared at each other, taking one another’s measure. Ruffles and earrings. Leather and gunmetal. They were strangers. They were sisters.

 

“As monsters go, I’m not particularly friendly,” warned Tex.

 

“Sure you are. You came out here to check on me, didn’t you?”

 

Tex scuffed her sole against the dirt. “Yeah, well. You’re special.”

 

“If I was in trouble, you’d fight to protect me, right? Just like you’re protectin’ the Sheriff.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

She shrugged. “Then we’re square.”

 

Tex stood mutely as the wind ran its fingers through her hair. Was this…a path forward? Or was truth, divorced from history, just another kind of lie? Perhaps the distinction didn’t matter; Libby knew she was a monster, and didn't hate her for it. An immense weight lifted from her shoulders.

 

“You know what?” remarked Miss Folfax, hands on her hips. “I actually feel a whole lot better now. I shouldn’t waste any more time standin’ out here, barkin’ at a knot. Let’s go and have some fun, shall we? Before we get old...and saggy.”

 

Tex surprised herself by leaning over and kissing the barkeep on the forehead. “Let’s,” she said.

 

“Heh.” Libby rubbed the spot, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet. I intend to step on your toes as much as humanly possible all throughout the session.”

 

Arm in arm, the women returned to the open-air ballroom. Nissa was finished with her break, and interested participants were beginning to assemble. Elke, Ignishka, and Britney stood together in the women’s line, beetle-bright in their dresses and baubles. Their partners in the row of men appeared drab by comparison.

 

“There you are!” waved Elke. “You’re just in time – we have not started yet. The Varsouvienne is next.”

 

“Perfect!” cheered the barkeep. “That’s one of my favorites.”

 

She went to join the women’s line, and promptly blundered into Tex, who had the same idea.

 

“My apologies,” said Libby. “Shall I play the masculine role? I shouldn’t have assumed.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” she replied. “I’m taller, so I’ll do it. But you’ll have to remind me where the man is supposed to start. It’s been ages since I’ve done this, and I’ve only ever danced the woman’s part.”

 

“Sure.” The barkeep rotated so that her back was facing Tex. “To begin, you’re gonna want to take your arms, and – wait.” She craned her neck. “Are you wearin’ spurs?”

 

Tex looked down at her boots. “I am.”

 

“Take those off. It’s poor etiquette to wear them on the floor; you might catch the hem of someone’s dress.”

 

The outlaw did as she was told, then got back into position.

 

“Stand behind me – a little to the left – and take both of my hands in yours,” instructed Libby. “My left in your left, my right in your right. I lift my arms like so, and then we start the promenade.”

 

They hurriedly reviewed the sequence of glides, two-steps, and tiny kicks. Some of it came back to Tex immediately; the rest she could fudge by copying the other couples. At the very least, she would not be the greatest embarrassment on the floor – Bolbi could find no partner other than his sister, and his bandages were starting to unravel.

 

“Next up we’ll be doing the Varsouvienne,” announced Nissa. “If you enjoy the Polka Redowa, or mazurkas in general, then this sweet little number is for you. Grab yourself a friend, and circle up.”

 

Tex and Libby found their place in the coterie, a few paces from Carl and Elke. Sally and Amber flanked them opposite. The outlaw took the barkeep’s hands; they were petite, and velvet-soft – the perfect size for holding. She peered down at them.

 

“My God,” said Tex. “You have such clean fingernails.”

 

“Thanks? I scrub dishes all day.”

 

While she was inspecting, Tex noticed a ring on Libby’s middle finger. She was certain it hadn’t been there yesterday, nor any day since the two of them had met. It was delicate, with a white gold finish, and a rose-cut sapphire set in the center.

 

“Your ring,” she nodded. “That’s new. Where’d you get it?”

 

Miss Folfax glowed with memory. “Señor Estevez gave it to me. Earlier this year, durin’ Carnival. He delivered it to me in the cutest little heart-shaped box – he said it was a thank-you gift for helpin’ him improve his penmanship. Which was an impossible task, I might add.”

 

She whistled. “That must’ve cost him a pretty penny.”

 

“Oh, no, he didn’t buy it,” she clarified. “He found it.”

 

“While he was panning for gold?”

 

“No. Yuri – that’s Bolbi’s goat – dug it up and ate it durin’ one of his habitual peregrinations. Sheen, um…removed it from the next day’s leavings.”

 

Tex was amazed. “Wait…so it’s a poop ring?”

 

“It is not a poop ring!”

 

“Ehhh, it kinda sounds like it is.”

 

Libby was indignant. “I’ll have you know that this is the nicest piece of jewelry a man has ever given me.”

 

“Okay. It still came out of a goat’s caboose.”

 

"You people are insufferable. And you wonder why I never put it on in public."

 

Tex shrugged. “I’m just pointing out the facts of the case, your Honor.”

 

As the last of the couples joined the circle, Wendell reappeared, wielding his fey weapon. After a brief exchange with Nissa, he took the stage. The violin gleamed menacingly as he placed his bow upon the strings, and Tex closed her eyes, bracing herself. Conversation ceased. Someone cleared their throat; another person shuffled in place. The instrument took a deep breath, paused for effect, and sang.

 

Tex opened one eye. Curiously, the music was not as harrowing as she’d remembered. Where was the malevolence, the mockery? This melody sounded irreverent, like an inside joke between foes, or a saucy wink meant to shock a moralist.

 

It’s not so bad, she thought. A bit off-kilter, sure, but circus freaks are people too.

 

The dancers took their first steps forward. “Wendell really needs to tune that thing,” Miss Folfax muttered. A loose ringlet concealed the curve of her cheek.

 

As they strode forward again, Tex changed sides, shifting from left to right, and Libby crossed in front of her. The barkeep’s face came back into view. Another train of dainty steps, and they shifted a second time, swinging back into their starting positions.

 

Like a flock of polite and stately vultures, the couples traveled clockwise in a circle, repeating this refrain. The recurrent pauses gave the dance a lilting, disjointed sort of feel – it was either painfully slow, or delightfully twee, depending on one’s partner. In this respect, Tex was luckier than most. Darling little ringlet, curve of the cheek, darling ringlet, curve of the cheek. Checkered cloth swished between the gunslinger’s legs.

 

“God, this is so nostalgic,” Tex reminisced. “I remember doing the Varsouvienne with my friends…Lord, a decade ago, just before my 15th birthday.”

 

Back before everything fell apart.

 

“I have fond memories of it too,” said Libby. “We used to hold mixed-race dances at my church in Philadelphia. A few weeks after the war ended, we received some visitors – returnin’ soldiers, young enough to make you cry. That night, I met a member of the 41st Regiment, and I danced the Schottische and the Varsouvienne with him. He was handsome as a dream in his blue coat; as you might imagine, I was completely besotted. I never saw him again after that. I always wondered what became of him.”

 

They approached the first of several cross-armed turns, and Tex took a gander at the other pairs to make sure she was doing it right. Britney tripped, and Nick caught her; snickering ensued.

 

“I was surprised to find that the celebrations here were mixed, when I first got here,” Libby continued. “Apparently, there was a bit of a stink about it early on, but the two richest men in town had ties to Sheen, and Ike, and Nick, and excludin’ them would have been anathema. I hopped on that train as quickly as I could. That’s how life works: befriend the right people, and let their money do the talkin’ for you.”

 

“Savvy,” noted Tex. “I think you missed your calling as a politician. And a diplomat. And a detective.”

 

“You ol’ charmer, you,” she smiled. “If we ladies are ever afforded the opportunity to run for public office, I'll contact you for a testimonial.”

 

“Testimonial? Honey, I’ll help you run your campaign. Just think: with your hard-earned cash and my ill-gotten gains, I could grease all the right palms.”

 

She giggled. “I’m delighted to know that I’ll have someone so unscrupulous on my payroll.”

 

“Of course. I’m happy to assist with malfeasance of all types. You name it, I’ll do it.” Tex lowered her voice. “Just don’t tell the Sheriff what we’re up to.”

 

“Spokes toward the hub!” called Nissa.

 

Libby and Tex turned to face one another, and all of the duos began moving inward, their leading arms extended toward the center-point. Bit by bit, the circle contracted.

 

“Where is that man, anyway?” asked Libby, glancing around. “I haven’t seen him since he horked down supper at three times his usual speed.”

 

“He left after we returned from our evening constitutional. There was some sort of issue with the horses – I didn’t catch the details.”

 

“Ugh. People need to stop runnin’ to him every time there’s a problem,” she groused. “Hasn’t he done enough? Let someone else handle it.”

 

“Good luck telling him that.”

 

They reached the center of the ring. Tex lifted her left arm, dipping Libby away from the locus. The other leaders did the same. From above, the crowd of dancers blossomed like a coneflower.

 

“Either way, you should go and find him when we’re done,” Libby encouraged. “Maybe he’d like to dance with you.”

 

“Me?” Tex frowned as she straightened. “Why would he ever dance with me? You know what kind of woman I am. I’d besmirch his sterling reputation.”

 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about yourself.”

 

She tried to act casual as they reversed course. “It’s true.”

 

“So embrace the stigma, then. In my experience, men like to be besmirched. In fact, I’d say it ranks high on their list of favorite activities.”

 

She affected a lofty indifference. “Your head is just full of fancies tonight, Miss Folfax.”

 

The flock of stately vultures resumed its circling. Tex returned to her original position to find that Libby’s ringlet had become entangled with her earring. She brushed it free.

 

“If Sheen were here, he’d agree with me,” the barkeep argued.

 

“Is that supposed to sway me? He’d agree with anything you had to say.”

 

“Only because he knows I’m right,” she countered. “He might even offer to give you a lesson, just to get you started.”

 

“Would that be an offer worth taking?”

 

“Oh, absolutely. The poor sod can’t sing to save his life, but he’s a fantastic dancer. Not just European styles either – Mexican, Cuban, Brazilian – I have no idea where he found the time to learn them all. And you should see the stuff he comes up with. Why, his penchant for rhythm is half the reason that I…” she left off.

 

“Go on,” smirked Tex, as she hop-stepped along behind her. “It’s half the reason that you what?”

 

“That I let him smooch me on occasion, despite his flawed lifestyle. If he’d clean himself up a little, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

 

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Does he leave muddy handprints on your bustle when you kiss?”

 

“Guerita. That’s what laundry day is for.”

 

The outlaw burst out laughing.

 

Look how lovely she is, the violin crooned. Give her anything, anything. Save her, and she’ll save you.

 

The song swiftly frolicked through its final verses, and the Varsouvienne drew to a close. Libby curtsied to Tex, and the outlaw bowed from the waist and kissed her hand. They smiled at each other as a smattering of onlookers applauded politely.

 

“Fair lady, I thank you kindly for the dance,” said Tex, “but I’m afraid I must depart. The coffee draughts are insisting I release them from confinement.”

 

“Oof. You have my condolences – that outhouse is disgusting.”

 

“Will you be all right while I’m gone?”

 

“Yeah. I think I’ll dance with Ike for a while,” she replied. “He’s been awfully lonesome since his wife passed. He could use a little cheerin’ up.”

 

“I didn’t realize Mr. Wilderman was a widower. That’s a shame. His poor wife.”

 

“Life is short…sometimes, brutally so. That’s why it’s so important to enjoy it while it lasts.”

 

*******************************************************************************

 

TEX: I kill people
LIBBY: Cool, let's make a list

HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT

 

- In 1864, General William Tecumseh Sherman led his troops on a scorched-earth campaign across Georgia. This March to the Sea, as it came to be known, ranged from Atlanta to Savannah, and was marked by its objective: to cripple the Confederacy's ability to wage war. In America, Sherman is rightly regarded as the father of Total Warfare, a tactical and psychological tool that would be used over and over again in the century to come. He was a keen military thinker; he cut telegraph lines to prevent intelligence reports from reaching his adversaries, and he was able to keep himself supplied in enemy territory via foraging and strategic pillaging. Everywhere he went, he wrought unpredictable destruction, freeing slaves, destroying infrastructure, and stealing anything that wasn't tied down. He made a point to target wealthy landowners, who he described in a missive as "hostile" when compared to "the poor or industrious." The advancing column attracted a growing throng of ex-slaves, many of whom greeted the federal troops as emancipators. Others simply wanted to burn shit down too. Sherman loathed war and was extremely strict about the sort of behavior he was willing to tolerate from the men under his command; while they occupied Atlanta, he made it known that anyone committing "unsoldier-like deeds" (sexual assault, kidnapping, murder) was to be summarily executed. Amusingly, after the governor and legislators were evacuated from the capitol, a group of wise-guys staged a mock legislative session in the abandoned building and voted Georgia back into the Union. The success of the operation led Henry Clay Work to write Marching Through Georgia in 1865. The song became immensely popular in the North (and on Reddit, 160 years later), but Sherman himself wound up hating it, in part because he didn't like to gloat, and in part because it was played at every single public appearance he attended.
- The 41st Regiment, AKA the 41st United States Colored Infantry Regiment, was a military unit that served in the Union Army. It was organized in Philadelphia in the fall of 1864 and placed under the command of Colonel Llewellyn F. Haskell. Most of the enlisted men were African-American, but it also included native Hawaiians from the then-independent Kingdom of Hawai'i. The 41st Regiment engaged in the Siege of Petersburg and the Appomattox Campaign, and it was present at the unconditional surrender of Confederate General Robert E. Lee on April 9, 1865.
- I managed to track down an itemized list of dances from "the Opening Ball of the 1871 Season", which took place in Austin, Texas. Included on the roster were 18 different numbers, including the Quadrille, Polka Tremolo, Varsouvienne, Fling Schottische, Kiss Waltz, Camille, and more. Some, like the Quadrille, were group dances, performed by men and women standing in separate lines. The Varsouvienne (which has many variant spellings, including the Varsoviana, the Varsovienne, La Va, and more, plus nicknames like Put Your Little Foot), places the leading partner (usually the man) behind the following partner (usually the woman) in a promenade hold. I chose the Varsouvienne for Tex and Libby because of its ubiquity, and because it's extremely cute. Originating in Warsaw in 1852, the dance and its associated melody became widely known across Europe, the Americas, and Australasia, where it morphed into a dizzying number of variations. It is one of the earliest ever sequence dances, and it contained a feature that was novel at the time: a built-in pause motif. The name comes from French, meaning "from Warsaw".
- With regard to mixed-race social functions, the sad fact of the matter is that things were actually better for African-Americans in 1875 (when this story takes place) than they would be in subsequent decades. President Ulysses S. Grant and his allies enacted legislation to enforce civil rights, such as the Ku Klux Klan Act and Civil Rights Act of 1875, but when Reconstruction ended prematurely in 1877, many of the political, social, and economic gains made by black people in the South were systematically eroded by the ruling elite. The Jim Crow era followed, and it took almost a century of activism to overturn the last of these repressive segregation laws.
- The first white woman to hold federal office in the United States was Jeannette Pickering Rankin, a pacifist and women's rights advocate, who in 1916 was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives as a Republican from the state of Montana (before the Civil Rights Era, the Republican party was the liberal/progressive party. They supported the abolition of slavery and universal suffrage. The Democrats were the conservative party, and they opposed these reforms. They switched platforms in the 1960s). Jeannette Rankin served again in 1940. To this day, she remains the only woman ever elected to Congress from the state of Montana. The first black woman to hold federal office was Shirley Anita Chisholm, who became a rep for New York in 1968. She led the expansion of food and nutrition programs for the poor and quickly rose up the ranks into Democratic party leadership. She was posthumously awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2015.

 

Vocab:
* Barking at a Knot - doing something useless
* Mazurka - a style of Polish folk dance that, alongside the Polka, became popular in the ballrooms and salons of Europe in the 19th century
* Carnival - the festive season that takes place in many Roman Catholic countries in the last days before Lent. Culminates in Mardi Gras
* Evening Constitutional - an outdoor walk, usually taken after dinner
* Coneflower - Echinacea

 

NEXT PART -> The Dance

[Katia11]

I feel so bad. I did NOT think you would take my suggestion so seriously. I have caused you this pain. :S BUT it's so good!!! 

 

Okay, trying this in a new way. we'll see what happens. 

 

"A cloud blotted out the sky as Tex trudged off, tasting evening tobacco on her tongue. Libby didn’t hear her coming. She stood motionless, half in light, half in shadow, and a subtle threat hummed below the surface. It wasn’t just the music, or the here-again-gone-again moon – the night itself was predatory. At any moment, it might unhinge its fearsome jaw, and lunge." GET OUT. That is SO GOOD. Mara. This is so eerie and off-putting. Also gorgeous. Which is frankly unfair. 

 

“I’m fine,” she murmured quietly. “Just…lost in thought.” You are most certainly not fine." Agreed.

 

"“Dance? Dance with whom?” Her voice sounded despondent. “With me,” Tex answered forcefully, before she could talk herself out of it. “You.” “If you’d do me the honor…Miss Folfax.”  I am so PROUD of her. Also, this interaction made me smile. She's so proper!

 

"Tex followed Libby’s gaze out into the desert. She searched for signs of life – a campfire, a lantern, a billowing trail of dust – but nothing stood out. The best she could offer was a platitude. “I’m sure the prospector is fine,” she reassured. “He’ll turn up eventually, like he always does.” I really really liked Tex comforting Libby here. It was just a nice moment

 

:I just…I can’t shake this feelin’ that somethin’ awful is about to happen. Two of my closest friends are in danger, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. One carelessly risks his neck chasin’ daydreams in a wasteland, and the other has a target on his back. I feel completely useless.” Poor Libby. 

 

"Libby turned to face her. Light and shadow switched places." This was so vivid and descriptive and dramatic. I LOVED it. 

 

“Miss Deputy, or should I say Miss Bodyguard, I’ll be direct: who’s gunnin’ for the Sheriff?” “Gunning…for…?”  Panic reared up like a hydra. Tex took a single step backward, preparing to – what? Flee? “Some scoundrel means to kill him. Don’t try to deny it. Tell me who it is.” She couldn’t speak. Then she saw Libby’s determined expression, and she began to reverse-engineer the prior day’s events. In retrospect, Tex had been acting like a bodyguard. She was still acting like one. She was one. Of course she sussed it out, thought Tex. Of course." Okay, there is a lot here that really struck me. How Libby calls her out, (it takes guts to stand up to someone you sort of just met who has a gun) and that Tex like.. instinctively panics (which I totally felt the fear and anxiety in that moment BTW) and then she realizes that Libby has NOTICED how strange she's been acting. It just was very good.

 

“I can’t name names,” the gunslinger replied, “but I can tell you this: there were two people involved in the initial conspiracy against him. One of them is no longer a threat. As for the other, well…I’ll give it my best shot, but I fear my best might not be good enough. I’m excellent at what I do, but I’m not a miracle worker.” Half-truths indeed.

 

“Are you going to kill the other conspirator?” she asked, matter-a-factly. Tex considered lying. She decided against it. “If I can,” she said." YEAHHH

 

“Good. Good riddance.” YEAHHHHHH!!! 

 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Her jewelry jingled. She was a glistening, poisonous butterfly – for a moment. I just…didn’t expect you to accept that so easily. Most people would balk upon discovering that their new friend is a murderer.” Libby’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “I’m no pacifist, Miss Tex. My aunts and uncles didn’t go free because their masters had a change of heart – they went free because Sherman marched through Georgia and razed every last plantation to the ground. Some people just need killin’, plain and simple.” “I’m no Union general, Miss Folfax,” emphasized Tex. “I have no army. I’m just a really bad person with a gun, trying to save one man.” “A deadly person with a gun. And who cares? When the enslavers and despoilers come for me and mine, I don’t want some saintly do-gooder on my side. I want a friendly monster who will eat anyone who threatens me.” Okay, I fall in love with Libby more each chapter. I love that she doesn't flinch at all. That she's willing to have the 'monster' at her side, if that means other monsters get eaten. It makes TOTAL sense.

 

"The two women stared at each other, taking one another’s measure. Ruffles and earrings. Leather and gunmetal. They were strangers. They were sisters." I want you to know that I legitimately do not tear up when I read. Like. Actual tears. It's very very VERY rare for there to be an actual physical reaction. But when I read this, I did choke up. Like. FOR REAL. Good Lord. You came straight for my gosh darn throat. 

 

“As monsters go, I’m not particularly friendly,” warned Tex. “Sure you are. You came out here to check on me, didn’t you?” Tex scuffed her sole against the dirt. “Yeah, well. You’re special.” AWWWWW. My heart.

 

“If I was in trouble, you’d fight to protect me, right? Just like you’re protectin’ the Sheriff.” “…Yes.” YESSSS!!!! She hesitated, but she still said yes.

 

"Tex stood mutely as the wind ran its fingers through her hair. Was this…a path forward? Or was truth, divorced from history, just another kind of lie? Perhaps the distinction didn’t matter; Libby knew she was a monster, and didn't hate her for it. An immense weight lifted from her shoulders." GET. OUT. I know I say it a lot but I have no other words. JEEPERS. STOP ATTACKING ME WITH YOUR GORGEOUS WRITING, PLEASE. 

 

"Tex surprised herself by leaning over and kissing the barkeep on the forehead. “Let’s,” she said." Oh. I am such a sucker for the forehead kiss. SUCH A SUCKER. oh, that is so cute and sweet and !!!

 

“Take those off. It’s poor etiquette to wear them on the floor; you might catch the hem of someone’s dress.” Oh, yeah. I can see how that would be a problem. 

 

"The outlaw took the barkeep’s hands; they were petite, and velvet-soft – the perfect size for holding. She peered down at them. “My God,” said Tex. “You have such clean fingernails.” “Thanks? I scrub dishes all day.” I love this description of Libby's hands. Which is a weird thing to say. But ya know. Here we are. Also, can I please have the lotion she uses? Coming from someone who actually DOES scrub dishes my hands are always dry ((I hate the feeling of rubber gloves.))

 

"While she was inspecting, Tex noticed a ring on Libby’s middle finger. She was certain it hadn’t been there yesterday, nor any day since the two of them had met. It was delicate, with a white gold finish, and a rose-cut sapphire set in the center." HELLOOO RING!??!? That sounds gorgeous. 

 

Aww and it's from Sheen. 

 

“Oh, no, he didn’t buy it,” she clarified. “He found it.” “While he was panning for gold?” “No. Yuri – that’s Bolbi’s goat – dug it up and ate it durin’ one of his habitual peregrinations. Sheen, um…removed it from the next day’s leavings.” Tex was amazed. “Wait…so it’s a poop ring?” “It is not a poop ring!” “Ehhh, it kinda sounds like it is.” Libby was indignant. “I’ll have you know that this is the nicest piece of jewelry a man has ever given me.” “Okay. It still came out of a goat’s caboose.” LMAO. Oh my word. I am dying. it's A POOP ring. still extremely sweet though.

 

"As the last of the couples joined the circle, Wendell reappeared, wielding his fey weapon. After a brief exchange with Nissa, he took the stage. The violin gleamed menacingly as he placed his bow upon the strings, and Tex closed her eyes, bracing herself. Conversation ceased. Someone cleared their throat; another person shuffled in place. The instrument took a deep breath, paused for effect, and sang. Tex opened one eye. Curiously, the music was not as harrowing as she’d remembered. Where was the malevolence, the mockery? This melody sounded irreverent, like an inside joke between foes, or a saucy wink meant to shock a moralist." I really liked how Tex was expecting the creepy music from before, but was greeted by something else entirely. It really contrasts the oppressive atmosphere from before.

 

"Darling little ringlet, curve of the cheek, darling ringlet, curve of the cheek. Checkered cloth swished between the gunslinger’s legs." This has such a lovely rhythm and it's written beautifully. 

 

"Back before everything fell apart."

 

"I have fond memories of it too,” said Libby. “We used to hold mixed-race dances at my church in Philadelphia. A few weeks after the war ended, we received some visitors – returnin’ soldiers, young enough to make you cry. That night, I met a member of the 41st Regiment, and I danced the Schottische and the Varsouvienne with him. He was handsome as a dream in his blue coat; as you might imagine, I was completely besotted. I never saw him again after that. I always wondered what became of him.” that is really sad. I wonder what happened to him too. Also, who is this person??! curious spectators want to know.

 

"Savvy,” noted Tex. “I think you missed your calling as a politician. And a diplomat. And a detective.” AMMMEENN.

 

You ol’ charmer, you,” she smiled. “If we ladies are ever afforded the opportunity to run for public office, I'll contact you for a testimonial.” “Testimonial? Honey, I’ll help you run your campaign. Just think: with your hard-earned cash and my ill-gotten gains, I could grease all the right palms.” She giggled. “I’m delighted to know that I’ll have someone so unscrupulous on my payroll.” "Of course. I’m happy to assist with malfeasance of all types. You name it, I’ll do it.” Tex lowered her voice. “Just don’t tell the Sheriff what we’re up to.” I LOVE the idea of a Tex/ Libby political campaign. 

 

“Ugh. People need to stop runnin’ to him every time there’s a problem,” she groused. “Hasn’t he done enough? Let someone else handle it.” “Good luck telling him that.” Oh, those self-sacrificial types. 

 

“Me?” Tex frowned as she straightened. “Why would he ever dance with me? You know what kind of woman I am. I’d besmirch his sterling reputation.” “That’s not a very nice thing to say about yourself.” She tried to act casual as they reversed course. “It’s true.” “So embrace the stigma, then. In my experience, men like to be besmirched. In fact, I’d say it ranks high on their list of favorite activities.” Tex: I can't dance with him, I'll tarnish his reputation (I'll tarnish him *cough cough*). Libby: And the problem with that is? 

 

“If Sheen were here, he’d agree with me,” the barkeep argued. “Is that supposed to sway me? He’d agree with anything you had to say.” That may be true, but he still wouldn't be wrong. Dance with him! 

 

“Oh, absolutely. The poor sod can’t sing to save his life, but he’s a fantastic dancer. Not just European styles either – Mexican, Cuban, Brazilian – I have no idea where he found the time to learn them all. And you should see the stuff he comes up with. Why, his penchant for rhythm is half the reason that I…” she left off. “Go on,” smirked Tex, as she hop-stepped along behind her. “It’s half the reason that you what?” OOOOOPPPEE. I am LOOKING. 

 

"The outlaw burst out laughing. Look how lovely she is, the violin crooned. Give her anything, anything. Save her, and she’ll save you." Mara. You have GOT TO STOP making them so cute. This is so sweet and tender and LOVELY. 

 

“Fair lady, I thank you kindly for the dance,” said Tex, “but I’m afraid I must depart. The coffee draughts are insisting I release them from confinement.” Again, she's so polite! She just needs to tip her hat now. LOL

 

Oh, poor Ike.

 

Okay, this got really long. I'm sorry. :S And I feel like I always say the same darn things. This was so effin' good though. I loved every single second of it. You handled that dance SO well. It had SUCH a nice flow and it was lovely to read. I seriously love the relationship these two are forming. I feel like they genuinely love each other and it makes me so incredibly happy. Thank you for working so hard and for taking a throw away comment I made and making it SPECTACULAR. 

 

 

[Mara=^.^=]

Okay, I fall in love with Libby more each chapter. I love that she doesn't flinch at all. That she's willing to have the 'monster' at her side, if that means other monsters get eaten.

 

It's the kind of ruthless pragmatism you need when you're a disadvantaged member of society (although you are correct in surmising that these two really do love each other).

 

I want you to know that I legitimately do not tear up when I read. Like. Actual tears. It's very very VERY rare for there to be an actual physical reaction. But when I read this, I did choke up. Like. FOR REAL. Good Lord. You came straight for my gosh darn throat.

 

Oh yeah, this stanza is a banger. I knew it the moment is sprang forth from my mind, fully formed and perfect.
 

Tex like...instinctively panics (which I totally felt the fear and anxiety in that moment BTW) and then she realizes that Libby has NOTICED how strange she's been acting.

 

I wanted this chapter to communicate just how much Tex is adopting the narrative Libby has created for her. Like, it started as a lie, but it's fast becoming truth. If it walks like a bodyguard, and quacks like a bodyguard, it really is a bodyguard.

 

that is really sad. I wonder what happened to him too. Also, who is this person??! curious spectators want to know.

 

You're going to laugh, but the whole time I was writing that paragraph, I was envisioning Addy Walker's older brother from the American Girl: Addy series. He fought as a soldier in the Union Army and was wounded in combat, but survived and went on to reunite with his family.
 

I LOVE the idea of a Tex/ Libby political campaign.

 

One of those little tongue-in-cheek references to the show. If you recall, in Jimmy for President, Cindy goes around bribing people to vote for Libby as class president. This also the origin of the "Ike's Party" joke that came up recently, and will come up again next chapter.
 

You have GOT TO STOP making them so cute.

 

I can't. It's just such a healthy relationship. 

 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =