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C9 - Thursday, the second time around /

{Crazy Cot Lady} (The One Who Dared)

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So this is how liberty dies. With thunderous applause.

I was somewhere in that morning mist, still shrouded in the lingering visions of the other consciousness.

I could just sense what felt like a cheek and a cold nose using my chest like a scratching pad. Pam was nestled beside me, tucked under my arm, her long silky hair cascading across my ribs. But I knew that before I pried opened my eyes. She was staring, passed my chin, at Emily.

She loved to watch her sleep.

"She's so beautiful, so present, so content."

"You ain't half bad yourself this morning. You look like you had a very pleasant night."

"Yeah. That thing is really comfortable and I love falling asleep with a good book, even if it is just a text book. Waking up, in the middle of a dream, to a very nice show, was kinda nice too," she winked, "You think they'd let me buy it?"

"The cot? They have them at The Gen, down the road."

"Good to know. But I really want that one. It has… memories. And it's already broken in."

"If it's so comfortable then why are you in this lumpy thing?"

"I wanted a little more warmth," she jostled against my side for emphasis. "Thanks, for tucking me in last night."

"No worries."

"You're welcommhmmmm." Emily stretched, pulling the covers tighter.

"What do you have planned for the day?"

"I'm going to slip into something stringy and sit outside on the lounge, get some sun and do some reading. That book is very informative. That man can write. How about you?"

Emily twisted and got more comfortable, "Mr. Hicks, extra days." she reminded me.

"Good call. I'll be right back and let you know."

I sat up and Emily followed, she pulled off the bandage and checked out my shoulder then gave it a kiss and flopped back into the warm pile of bedding. She was soon consumed in our bed-mate's arms and legs.

I threw on some jeans and an old Lynyrd Skynyrd tee and went out the door, barefoot.

Gramps shot me a look as I stepped to the counter, "Good Mornin. Nice to see you're finally comfortable here. What can I do for?"

"Yes it is, since day one and I hope yours is too."

"Standin, breathin and nobody's shootin at me. What you need?"

"I was wondering about the possibility of staying a few more days."

"Shit. We're kinda booked up this week end. Next week we only have a handful of guests. Should be planning on bringing the horses over to thin out the grass and resupply some fertilizer. Let's see. You could have the bunkhouse. It's gotta pot belly, an icebox and a bathroom, with a tub though, no shower. We only use it these days for the kids, when they come up around the holidays."

"And you wouldn't mind?"

"I'll have Marisol set you up with blankets and the like."

"A week?"

"As long as you need. Mare's taken a liking. And, You seem like you're at a bit of a crossroads. So."

"Funny. It feels like more of a round-a-bout, that's been heading in a straight line."

"Ha Ha Ha. I hope you never lose that."

"Me too."

"If you want you can move your stuff in there tonight. I'll grab the keys for the room later."

"Nah. We're comfortable for now, besides we don't want to leave our roommate hanging."

"That feisty little filly from the rope wall? Don't worry about her, there's a ton of room in there, you'll all fit. That girls got what my dad used to call gumption. She beat my best time hands down."

"That she does. She got me too. Speaking of. She may want to take a certain item of interest away from here. Is there anyway we can barter on that cot?"

"That's one of the oddest requests I've had in a long time. Maybe ever. I'll tell you what. I'll ring up The Gen and tell em you guys are going to pick up my order, you can take the shuttle, and I'll add one cot to the list. She can have it, or that one, for doing me that service. That'll free me up to take Miss May for a night out."

"I'll let her know. And make sure you leave me a list of chores. No good deed you know."

"I'll post em on the chalkboard in the mud room. You need transportation? Or are you keeping my Godson's bike a little longer?"

"Ha. I thought I sensed a spark of recognition when you saw that ride. I might. As much as I'd like to hold on to that beautiful beast, I've been lucky so far, I'd hate to ding her."

"Well, there's an old Triumph in the shed, may need a little grease to fire up. She doesn't have the rumble and she's a bit faded, but you're welcome to her. The plates are legal, at least they were. And a few more scratches would just add to her character."

"Faded is completely fine in my book. Enjoy your night on the town. Much appreciated, Gruncle."

The old man shot me an eye, "Don't mention it," then he chuckled, "Fuzznuts,"

When I got back to the room my roommates were in the cot together, checking the pics on Em's laptop. "How'd it go?"

"Good. Real good actually. We have a week, or more if we want. We have a new ride, a new place to crash and some purpose to fill our days."

"You guys are staying here?" Pam asked, excitedly.

"Yep. You remember that big guy that came with the bikes."

"How could I not. I thought someone trained a Yeti to ride a motorcycle."

"Sasquatch actually and he's gonna come and pick you up and take you to Nimbuwe's and get you the lay of the land. Then he's gonna come get us, where we're dropping the bike off. And then he's going to bring us all back here. You can stay with us in the bunkhouse, have our room to yourself, or stay at Nim's."

"You guys! Bunkhouse! Perfect! Thanks."

There were kisses and hugs and a lot of twirling and bouncing, before I got a chance to respond.

"Not a problem little sister. You don't have a problem shoveling a bit of horse shit, do ya Em?"

"I.. don't.. think I would. I don't know. Never done it. Horses? Where?"

"They're bringing them up on Monday or Tuesday, turns out they used to have trail rides, until the insurance went through the roof."

"You think we could ride them?"

"I don't know. We'll have to ask Sparkie later. And before I forget, somewhere along the line, we ALL need to go down to The Gen, to pick up an order, as barter for somebody's cot. We'll ask her when we drop off the supplies."

"No fucking way. I get to keep this one though? Right?"

"If you want. You could try out the new one..."

"No need," she kissed the mattress, just as enthusiastically as she kissed us ten seconds ago, "She's mine. She's all mine. Aren't you? My comfy wumfy bundle of cozy wozy joy… "

After Pam was done celebrating the newest addition to her life, we all jumped in the shower and washed each other up. There was nothing sexual about it. It was just innocent, good natured, caring, fun.

Pam put on a swimsuit and skipped out to the deck. She called it a swimsuit, but I swear it was just a few pieces of string, tied somewhat strategically to resemble one. Sorta? But she looked happy with it as she Tiggered out the door.

Shortly after Pam left, Emily and I went to grab some breakfast. We spied Carol and Suzie feeding each other cupcakes at, what had fastly become, our favorite table by the window.

They saw us at the coffee nook and Carol waved us over.

"How are my two favorite rug munchers today?"

Carol had a mouth full of food, that I swear was just a tickle away from spraying out across the floor. Her eyes were huge.

Suze looked a little sad, "She's the only rug muncher here, I don't get to enjoy that, tickley, fuzzy feeling."

Carol managed to swallow. "Yet," she chimed, shoving a bite of chocolatey covered devil's food in Suze's mouth.

Suze perked up. "Yemmph. Youff knuwff…" she swallowed, "You know, I know you're trying to fatten me up Carebear, but if you want THAT old body, back on THESE bones, we're gonna need something healthier than cupcakes and Twinkies."

"Shall I get a cheesecake?"

Coffee, damn near came out of my nose. My three companions laughed so loud, people leaned back to get a better look.

After the curiosity and the merriment waned, Carol whispered in Suzie's ear.

Suzie shrugged, "They already know Care, they kind of knew before you. Sorry."

"That's okay, I'm actually flattered that you felt like sharing."

"I was really trying to let you know first, but they were just…"

"Pains in the ass?" I offered.

"I was thinking relentless, but that'll do too."

A few more minutes passed, and Pam pranced in and joined us.

"I thought you weren't an eat in the morning gal."

"It's twelve fifteen."

"Hmm. Go figure."

"You guys are still here from this morning?"

"Mmmhmm," Emily hummed, pulling Pam to her lap, "Bacon?"

"There some left?"

There wasn't, so we ordered another round of breakfast. Pam ordered breakfast and a big lunch. She caught me eyeing her up as she started in on her second burger. Her eyes went taut, she kept on chewing. I couldn't help but laugh. I've felt that look on my face once or twice. She swallowed, "Hey, I've watched you put down a good portion too, old man."

"I have a retarded metabolism."

"Me too."

"I tried that no eating breakfast trick. Sounds plausible in theory. No food in the AM, metabolism slows for the day, gain weight. But it doesn't work."

"I know. I know. Nothing works. I can pound down a cow," she gestured at her shape, " and not an ounce."

"They used to tell me, 'wait until you hit thirty, then you'll be sorry'. That came and went, and still. I can eat five, six, meals a day, and nothing."

"How old, are you?"

"Same age as Nim. Three hundred and one, in dog years, About seventeen menta-motionally. I'm curious though. If you can pound it down, then why not pound down breakfast too?"

"Divide by seven is forty… Hmmm… What? Oh! Why no breakfast… Because, by lunch time, I'm famished. I'm, energized hungry. The food tastes better and I can eat like a beast. Tearing into my food like a lioness after a good kill. I love it."

"I can see that, it's all over your face. All over it."

She just grinned and took another bite, "Mmmmmphf."

"I'm more of the four or five, take your time savoring it, meals a day, kinda guy."

"I get that too. Dinner is usually that way. A long, slow, meditative, relax and enjoy experience. And then there's dessert, ohh."

"Especially here. Even more so when it's shared, off someone," I nodded at our two lesbian friends kissing the maple syrup away.

"Such a perv."

"I'll never deny that. But to clarify, I, am a reflective perv."

"A what?"

"A reflective perv. See this girl right here?" Emily perked. "You've seen her, You've felt her."

"Yeah she has." Em grinned.

"She likes vanilla, mechanically speaking, but she's full blown jalapeno passionately. She just rides me and enjoys me, and she let's me love, touching and tasting all those places that make her shiver and warm all at once. We're soft, together. Quiet and passionate. And I'm home with that. Really home. It's like I'm the windows and she's the doors. Like she's the fireplace and I'm the firewood and together we're the warmth and the crackle of the hearth. But let's say you and I were together, and you… liked being spanked. Because you liked the tingle, the jolt. Well then, I'd be into spanking. As long as it doesn't turn me off, and there are things that turn me off, both physically and mentally, I'm in. As long as you're likin it. Hell, even if you wanted me to pee on you, because you liked the feel of the warmth and wet rolling down your stomach, or your back. Then I would enjoy the way that golden hued liquid, smoothed down your skin, reflecting the light off your spine, watching you move like I was washing away your stre…" I was interrupted, by the slightest most sensual nibble on my ear.

Pam had stopped chewing. She had a been there, twinkle.

Carol and Suzie appeared to be having the same discussion as Em and I were.

But whereas, Emily tweaked me an eye and I wrinkled my forehead, to which she wiggled her butt, and I just nodded a 'sure', and then she eyed me a 'really?' and I eyed back an 'if you want', and then she kissed me.

Their conversation was a little, well let's just say less subtle.

No. Let's say what it really was, oblivious. Oblivious to their time and their space in this world.

"What?", low, but not quite, hushed.

Puppy dog eyes.

"Really?", not as quiet.

"Yeah. It might be fun, a little..." Puppy dog eyes, round two.

"It could be… visually, stimulating, to… Okay. But only if you… wan…"

Both set of eyes smoothed across the table, mid sentence.

I looked at Suze.

"Temporal Displacement?"

"Yes. See what I mean? I am SO fucking screwed."

"If it's any consolation, you seem to have that effect on her too."

"I don't know about that. I think she knows there's a world out here that can see us, but she just doesn't care. Because she really likes the attention."

They bumped heads and continued their discussion closer. After a few hushed words, they kissed an agreement.

I don't know, if it was about their own little world, or if there'd be some spanking or water sport in their near future. Or if it was just, that Carol really did like the attention. Or all three. Probably all three. But it was definitely at least one or two of those three. Unless I missed something. And frankly I don't care. Whatever puts wind under your wing and helps you fly.

Like an eagle.

Not a vulture.

A Sequoia walked into a bar, and pulled up a table. (badump dum chih)

"Fuzznuts."

"Sasquatch."

"Miss Emily."

"Heya Tankie."

"So? Which one of these ladies is going to be regaling me with tales on how she charmed a Jaguar?"

"That'd be the one on Em's lap."

"Nice to meet you, Pam."

"Nice to meet you, Tankie."

"Francis Paul! Get your butt off my table."

"Sorry Mabel. Didn't want to break your tiny chairs."

"How you? Dad? Beccah? Sam?"

"Good, good, good, and good with a bit of a quand'ry. She's going to the swap, she could use some Granny May. You all?"

"Good. Everybody's peachy. She Okay?"

"Yeah, It's just one of those things I could probably wrap my head around, but would not fully empathize with. Wrong physical makeup."

"Francis. That girl is as lucky to have you, as you are to have her."

"I'm luckier, she's got me with pretty though."

"A mangy raccoon has you with pretty."

I was slapped with a menu. Hard.

Granny has an arm.

I guess the agreement was officially sealed and Suzie perked up. "Damn!!! Big!!! Fucking Huuge… Sorry… It's just… Wow! They weren't kidding."

"That's Suze and the other one who just got her consciousness rerooted back down to this temporal realm, is Carol."

"Good meet."

"Don't run. That's meet with an e, not an a."

Carol and Suzie laughed. Tank grunted, "Touche, mother fucker."

All we heard from Granny Hicks was, "Francis Paul! Quarter, jar… Shit. I really am turning into my mother."

We took that moment of lucidity to say our good days. Before the other two got lost in the ether. Again.

We hit the road, to drop off Reba, Taz's bike, at it's next destination. Finishing our final part of this quest.

We went the intermediary way. I didn't want to head right back. But, I also didn't want to push my luck. Too much. I had promised Em a trip to the falls. And this seemed like the perfect time.

Tank and Pam departed right behind us. They waved as they split away at the crossroads. Em and I road a few more miles up the winding mountain blacktop, then we traded the paved roads for a grass dotted trail and meandered our way to the falls. We parked. Undressed. And jumped into the pooling pond at the cataract's feet.

(Holy Fuck!)

I'm saying that, screaming that actually, to you with my brain, because literally, there is no voice. Nothing, outside of Primal, could bridge the gap between brain and vocal chords at this point in time. It bellowed out like a severely wounded Kraken. It may have sounded like Holy fuck, in my head, but I know it didn't come out like that. For the, maybe, forty-three hundredths of a second that something did come out, it sounded more Draconic, or Abyssal, than Terran. Remind me again why I learned... Undercommon?

The world was... bright. A pure blinding shade of reddish-white.

We stood up, staring at each other in total shock. I mean we both had a taste of the crispness that was the pond, but this was, Arctic. Borderline vacuum of space. Emily threw herself at me grabbing for warmth, wrapping her arms and legs around me as if to slide under my skin.

She didn't find it.

"Fffrack! You're fffreezzzing."

"Ssssays the Ssssnow Cc-coone."

We stood there, shaking, sputtering, teeth chattering. Hugging each other for dear life.

Then I heard just two words.

Two daring, delicious words.

"Once more?"

"Together?"

"Always."

And down we went. Back into the frigid abyss.

And up we came. And out we went. Like Shaggy and Scooby with a ghost on their tails. I think I may have left some skin behind on a rock. I don't think my balls have dropped all the way again since. They're trying to hide right now, just at the writing of this.

"My nipples are screaming at me."

"Want I kiss em and make em feel better?"

"MMhMM, please."

We scrambled, briskly rubbing each other to friction up some kind of... anything but cold, as we made our way for our clothes and their promise of warmth.

It was somewhere between my belt being buckled and getting my shirt turned right side out that I took in the vista. I looked up to the top of the falls and, yes, there was snow. Sporadic piles of it jotted the ledge. But there was also something, a tiny bit more, interesting. Something my friend had 'accidentally' omitted about the scene.

A block of Ice. A huge, glacier like, blindingly bluish-white, block of ice. Jutting out, from the cascade, about two feet down, camouflaged, almost to the bottom. And every drop of water, that fell from that cliff, went over, around, or through it. Like whiskey through an elegant ice scuplture.

'Asshole.'

(I might have said that out loud. It's debatable.)

By the time we got to our final destination we were, nearing, dry. Our hair was still damp, as were our butts, but for the most part, our clothes were dryer than they were when we left the falls. But you could tell they were a touch damper than when we first embarked on this journey. By the way they hung and clung.

Meat was at his workbench, by the entrance of his four car garage. The same garage that a certain Yowie carried a slant six engine from a crumbling table to a mounting stand, on the other side of the room, like he was cradling a newborn baby.

Travis was working on a two by two and a half foot leather case. "Merry meet Miss Em, Wolf. You wet? Raining over the hill?"

"Merry meet, Sir Travis."

"Meat. No! No. Not rain. We stopped by the falls."

"Oh." He grinned, a sneaky, sarcastic, shit eating display, "Nice dip?"

"Asshole."

(this one was definitely out loud, no debate necessary)

"Heh heh."

"What you got there?"

"A little something for Lane."

He held up his project. A weave of light brown leather and a deep dark suede. Three inches deep. With a gold dolphin in the upper left corner. It had a strap, that looked long enough to hang the bag beside the opposite hip to the shoulder it was over. It was...

"Damn. Nice fucking work."

Emily fingered the seams.

"This is pretty. Makes me wish I was the pocketbook type."

"Thank you, Em."

"Isn't her birthday in the fall?"

"You are correct my liege. She's been meeting with some of the town council lately. The ladies are the type that have to have the latest designer handbag. The guys, the most expensive portfolios. I figured I'd make her a one of a kind they could drool over."

"Are these solid gold dolphin clasps and buckles?" Emily inspected.

"Yes Ma'am. Sixteen carat, for strength. Sam threw them together for me. The dolphins separate with a twist. She can turn the strap into a back pack or a handle. It's got a section for her laptop, a place for paperwork, and three compartments for her wallet and anything else she wants to carry with her."

"?I didn't think Lani was the pocket book type, or materially competitive?"

"She's not," he smirked, "but you know I am. Especially when it comes to her. I had to make her a wallet, and a wallet pocket in her vest, so she didn't get shot reaching for her license in her shoulder holster. This is more, a portfolio, laptop, attache case. That, she can get behind. And I know, she'd just love to give those old, stuffy bints a rise. Just for the points."

"Yeah, because a one of a kind Meat bag trumps a Gucci any day."

"Asshole."

"That was for the waterfall."

"Touche then." He put the bag in a box and placed it on the shelf.

"You know! I may have to come up here and have you help me make new saddle bags. After I get Roh back on the road. You want anything Em?"

"A backpack maybe, to match my vest and chaps."

"Awesome. We'll make a weekend of it." The barbarian offered, slinging a leather pack on his shoulder, "Sorry I can't hang. Work called. Just park Reba next to Falhófnir. We'll meet when we meet."

"Here for at least another week."

"Well met."

"G'day, Travis."

"Well met. Em"

"The switch is over there, just make sure you're in the ready position before you hit it. And duck, a lot lower than you think you have to. It's being temperamental lately. Take Em for the tour, the dryer is up the stairs to the left if you need it."

The truck door slammed and the leather crafting barbarian made his way to a portal. A mystical gateway that he would walk through, exiting the other side in a completely different realm, to spend the next four hours of his life as Sir Sivart, of the Peaks. (he went to work at that medieval place. the guy originally playing sivart was sick)

We stripped ourselves of the lingering dampness and tossed our clothes in the dryer to chase the last of it away. While they were tumbling, round and round, I gave Em the quick tour of the house.

"This is the armory."

"Frell, that's a lot of stuff."

"Most of it is break away, for faires and work, but there's quite a few pieces over here that'll ruin your month. Over through this door, is the entertainment room."

"Oh. This is..."

"A time travelers wet dream?"

The floor was tiled in dark blue stone. Polished to a slight sheen. The walls were aged stucco with more of a Venitian plaster finish. There were columns of concrete in a Greco-Roman style with a faux marble finish. There was a ten by twenty foot rug in the middle of the room, a replica of a tapestry from the Fifteenth century. With knights, horses and mythological creatures in deep, rich colors. An interspersed mahogany and ebony, butcher-block style gaming table sat on the rug, with eight high-back chairs. Many a die had been cast on it's hard polished surface. There were also light sabres, laser pistols, and other galactic looking implements, on futuristic metal shelves or stored inside blue backlit wall cases. An R2 unit that held beer and snacks and doubled as a big screen projector sat quietly beside a full set of Valkyrie like armor. Over them, across the expanse of the wall, crossbows, the looks of which ranged from ancient clunky medieval chunks of wood to a certain Wookie's laser bolt firing firearm.

"Yeah." Emily mused, "It's like an Arthurian berzerker was shot off to the future and took up interior design."

"That about sums Meat up to a tee. C'mon. One more quick stop."

We walked up the stairs, through the kitchen, and headed out the sliding door to the deck. Emily took one step outside, stopped cold and looked around.

The deck was all cedar. It went the length of the house, about forty five feet, and away from it around twenty. It had banners, for shade, garden boxes, full of spices and flowers, a smoker, a wood fired barbecue, benches and tables and archways around the railing with hanging lanterns. But that wasn't what took Emily's breath. That culprit was the yard. Eight feet down, seventy five feet wide by three hundred and fifty feet deep. It was a clear patch of beautiful lawn, bordered by trees on all sides. There was a fountain and rock gardens, a horse shoe pit to the side and more than enough room, for volleyball, or a friendly game of football, both American rules and the rest of the worlds.

She just stood there, mouth agape and wide eyed. I let her have a few minutes to just enjoy.

"So. Now that you've seen Meat's and Tank's place. Think you could live up here on what they make?"

"Very nicely."

"See that rocky ridge all the way back there passed the tree line?"

"Yeah."

"That's almost the end of the property line. It goes another hundred or so down the other slope."

"Shit."

"Yeah. He's been wanting to get back there and put a gazebo on the other side. Looks like I may have time to give him a hand finishing the trail out."

"That sounds beautiful."

"The view is as spectacular as the one at the lodge."

"Think we should get dressed, You know in case someone comes home."

"If anyone came home they'd join us. Lanie would probably be halfway to Godiva before she realized we were here. But Tank's probably on his way and our clothes should be dry by know, so let's suit up."

We retrieved our clothes, dressed, locked up and waited for our ride. He wasn't kidding about the ducking and the garage door either. I practically barrel rolled to Emily's feet to avoid getting crushed.

Tank and Pam found us laid out on the lawn and beeped. Pam bounded out, grabbed Em by the hand and they slid into the bench seat in the back.

I hopped in the front and gave a look around.

"Finished the interior I see. Looks great."

"Yep. Remember ole Bessy?"

"How could I forget her, I lived in her for a week."

"Well, the backrest of the bench seat the girls are on pushes forward and down, and the whole thing slides up on a track. And that fold out you made for Bess, fits nicely behind it. And between the two, it makes an excellent crash pad."

"Did you say Squatch Pad?

"I'm keeping that one."

"What?"

"Yes! Where to?"

"You got time to hit The Gen?"

"Gen, it is."

The girls were chatting away in the back. About the waterfall and Pam's new digs. Tank gave me the grand tour of the 350.

Leather head liner, oak trim, outlets for a hot plate or a heater. Or anything else you'd need power for. Brown exterior carpet on the floors. A crystal clear moon roof, three feet long and wide. Deer hide and oak panels on the side walls. The van wasn't tricked out by any means. It was just simple, functional and elegant.

We went to The Gen, picked up the supplies and then met Marisol back behind the lodge. She helped us unload and pack everything away. Including one new fold up bed on wheels. Tank took off for the rest of his day. And the four of us went back to our room to bring our stuff to the bunkhouse.

We left room 11 at a wistful pace. Even though it was a short trip, to the house we'd be calling home for awhile, there were memories being left behind, so the mood was a touch somber. Marisol helped carry Pam's bags. Pam, happily, guided her loyal cot behind.

*A few more weeks of training like this and that cot might heel on his own.*

When we got to the bunkhouse we stood in regard. You could feel the stories, the generations it had seen. The place was Prairie Home Companion plain. Homey. Utilitarian, with a lived in feel.

The front door swept open into a modest expanse. Specks of dust casually flittered to life on the intruding light. The steadfast aroma, of baked breads and time, breathed into our heads. A slight tinge of must, not so much a little open window wouldn't rid. And there were quite a few of them scattered around the open space.

There was warmth here. Familial and historical.

Just off to the right of the door was a big red carpet, a table, made of butcher block, and six cushioned chairs. An old teal-blue fridge, set off to the far right wall, with a counter, a farm sink and cabinets to it's left. A pot belly stove sat, regally, atop a blue stone base, in the near left corner. Four rough cut chairs and a padded bench faced it in a semicircular arrangement. A full bathroom, complete with a claw foot tub, supported one third of an overhead loft. A ladder, of logs and slabs, providing access from just before the bathroom. About two thirds of the way down the left.

Three bunk-beds were pushed up tight against the loft wall. A double bed took up a good portion of the remaining platform, yet there was more than enough space, between it and the wardrobe, to put Pam's cot.

Now we just had to muscle it up there.

Later.

Seems my strawberry-blonde friend had other thoughts for the now.

I stepped inside and was greeted by that same primal feeling I had in the lobby that very first day.

Marisol followed us to the top of the ladder and sat on the edge, entertaining us with the home's history, as we happily settled in.

"This was Auntie and Gruncle's first home together. They lived in here for five years, while they fixed up and expanded the lodge. It was a trade route inn, going back two centuries, give or take a few decades. So you can guess how much work that took. Two of their kids were born in here. My grandmother was born right there, by that stove, during a snowed in Thanksgiving visit."

It was never stayed in by anybody famous. That anybody knows of. It was just one of those shelters for merchants of the road. And maybe one or two people who may, or may not, have kept an eye out for British ships sailing up the river, down below. If one could just read the memories of these walls.

When we had everything in order, she dragged us out back, to the smaller of the two barns. She called it a shed, but a shed it was not. It was the same place a dog tracked a lost jock to, a couple nights back. Marisol said something about the 'damn kids'. And I couldn't help but chuckle, when she picked up the mattress and put it back on the stack. Pam quirked an eyebrow at me and smiled. She had dug out that bone herself. The amber skinned girl then proceeded to lift a horse blanket off a pile, revealing a well used, well cared for, old bike. A two cylinder Bonnie, with short rise bars, in faded sea green and white, with a sway back seat.

I checked the filter, fluids, tires and cables. Then found an old wire coat hanger and snaked the pipes for nests. Mice love making homes in tight little spaces.

"How long since she's been started?"

"I don't know. Gruncle says she fires. I've tried a few times. She sounds like she wants to catch, but I don't think I have the weight."

I pulled the plugs and gave them a cleaning, found a gapper in the tool box and searched the shelves for a manual.

"What ya lookin for?" Marisol offered.

"Gap Specs."

"Nine millimeters."

I gave her a look.

"No! I'm not a genius… 'An immediately handy access to intel, is always your best friend'… Pioneer Bumpkin Camp, William and Steven Hicks, Founders... It's on the blackboard by the tractor."

I looked up and in white chalk on dark blue slate was a whole bunch of gaps, fuel to oil ratios, timing marks and torques, for a lot of the equipment in the room.

"Yeah it is."

After the plugs were re-installed and the fuel swapped out, I adjusted the choke, gave the throttle a twist and primed her up with a couple of kicks. I turned the key and laid into it. She fired up on the third kick. Without so much as a hiccup. She sounded strong.

I took her out for a quick spin, to check the brakes and suspension, then I handed her off. To a girl with anticipating eyes. Marisol sparked a grin as she spirited on the seat. She tested the clutch, wiggled the front wheel, then let it rise.

She settled her down, about ten feet away, and rode off out of sight.

About a minute later we heard the bike get louder, saw the headlight bouncing. But all we could see, of it's petite rider, were her teeth through all that mud.

"Gah, That was fun. Pffft. But now I need a shower and blech a change before my shift. I may need to brush my teeth with lysol."

"Nah, you'll be fine, horseshit's good for the soul."

She looked herself up and down, gave herself a sniff.

"Then, I, am, reborn." "Have fun all." were her last words, before she sprinted towards a more cleansing ritual.

Pam, who had set up her cot on the porch by the swing, retrieved her book and lounged out to read. Me and Emily went and sat in a nice hot tub.

It took awhile, but we finally chased the last of the chill from our bones. Somewhere after the second fill.

The ambient light was fading when Pam came in to check on us. She stood in the doorway eyeing us up.

"How is it?"

"It's borderline hot, this is fill number two."

"There's room," Emily teased, "if you wanna hop in."

She was stripping her clothes off before the sentence was finished. In her typical fashion she bounced barefoot across the floor and unashamedly stepped in. Emily stopped her mid sit, washed her legs and her butt, then she pulled her down and sponged her back. Pam washed her own arms and chest. But that didn't stop Em from rinsing her off.

"You guys are gonna be all pruney."

"My feet already are."

"Mine too."

"Hmmmmm, a girl could get used to this," Pam intoned, as she settled against the dark haired girls chest.

"Mmmhmm."

"So can this guy."

I just laid there, staring, between black and red strands. The shadows of the leaves, on the window, danced across the panes with the breeze.

I closed my eyes and just breathed it all in.