He stared at his hands; the booze still seemed to be working, they were not trembling.  Ramsey had initially lost his appetite when the shame of his latest failing was undoubtedly noticed by his wife - but then she'd produced a breakfast spread beyond her normal capacity.  However she'd thought about him and his failings, she'd worked, and worked hard, to pull all of this off.  He owed it to her to make an effort to eat, and he found it was pretty easy to get hungry again.

He poured himself some coffee, took a couple of biscuits, added butter and honey, and then took some slices of bacon.  He could not help but give his wife a wide grin.

"Not sure what we're celebrating, but I definitely approve.  Excellent spread, My Love.  Marshal, Miss O'Dell, please dig in, before I forget my manners and become like a hog at the trough."

He mouthed a silent 'thank you' to his wife, marveling yet again at the luck he had to have met and married such a wonder.

As she ate, color began to come back to her cheeks.  After finishing her portion of the omelet, some bacon and a biscuit, she helped herself to another biscuit, generously with butter and preserves.

"Oh, I not thinkin' I've ever had anything taste so wonderful!  Thank ye!"  Rebecca spoke quickly, as if she couldn't speak fast enough to avoid talking with her mouth full.  "I learned makin' biscuits from Mama, but these are so wonderful!"

Clearly, she was feeling perkier with food.

"I'm so pleased you are enjoying the biscuits, Rebecca," Clementine replied with lady-like politeness that had been bred into her from birth. "A dear friend shared the recipe with me . . ." she murmured the expected small-talk but the notion that filled Clementine's head at that moment was as far from biscuits and jam as a woman's thoughts might be.

Cyrus smiled pleasantly though he felt a bit uncertain as to how familiar to be with the young lady as he nodded his head and said, "Very well Miss Rebecca, I'll do as you ask.  I don't mean anything cold by my formalities, it is just the way I was raised and taught as a means of showing due respect to others."


Cyrus nodded his head in agreement as he said in a hopeful tone, "Now that's a promise I hope we can hold ya to Miss Rebecca.

My, my... 18... seems like forever since I was so young and feelin' all "grown up".  I was in my 1st year at the Academy when I turned 18, only a couple of years before the War started... life certainly looked very different back then, though to be sure we all knew things couldn't continue as they were and events would soon be coming to a head."

Cyrus shook his head slightly pulling himself out of his memories and looking a bit chagrinned for having lost himself in thought, even if only for a moment.


Cyrus allowed himself a low whistle of genuine appreciation as he settled in and looked over the meal being provided.  Raising his fingers to his forehead in a casual salute to Clem, Cyrus said in an appreciative tone, "Well now Mrs. McQueen, this is certainly a mighty feast you have whipped up for us.  I don't believe I've seen such a good, wholesome home cooked breakfast in quite some time.

It beats old coffee and hard tack any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

I thank ya most kindly Mrs. McQueen for graciously accepting me at your table and for preparing such a feast for the senses on such short notice, you are a true wonder and Dr. McQueen is most definitely a very fortunate man."

Before he dug into his food, Cyrus bowed his head and made the sign of the cross as he prayed softly, saying the Methodist version of grace, "Be present at our table Lord. Be here and everywhere adored. These mercies bless and grant that we, may feast in fellowship with Thee. Amen."  Cyrus made the sign of the cross once again and then raised his bowed head and began to eat heartily.  Cyrus was a fairly religious man who worked hard to keep the Methodist faith he had been raised with but he was not one to force his religious faith or believes on others (hence why he did not request the others to join him in saying grace, it was between him and his God).

Cyrus was not shy about eating nor was he stingy in his praise of the quality of the food provided.  He looked over at Clem and said in a friendly, casual tone, "Would this friend with the recipe be someone from back East?  Or one of the locals here in town?  I don't recall on my few brief visits to Boston having biscuits quite like these."

Clementine tipped her chin to look up at the marshal and as Cyrus looked down into her bright blue eyes he could see the purely female pleasure that his company and compliment had brought to her. "Although we settled in Escondido within days of your coming to town, Cyrus; Ramsey and I don't see nearly enough of you . . . do we, my dear?" Clementine's smile faded some as she cast a searching glance at her husband.

Clementine bowed her head for appearance sake but she was silent while Cyrus prayed, not adding her own pious murmurings to his simple invocation. She had had her fill of God's merciful goodness during her childhood when her righteous father would chastise her for her transgressions, striking her palms bloody with a hickory switch as he quoted chapter and versus; and in recent months the senseless tragedy that she had witnessed and experienced had put doubt in her mind.

When Cyrus concluded the prayer Clementine raised her head and once more she looked to Ramsey, this time reaching out to silently communicate as she gently pressed his hand. During the endless, unhurried, blissful nights under the stars during their journey West when Ramsey had been all that she had ever dreamed and hers and her alone; after lovemaking there had been rare, tender moments when he had shared his secrets and offered insight into his heart and soul. So it was that Clementine understood what little trust Ramsey MCQueen placed in Cyrus Jericho's adored God; and she wondered not for the first time if lack of faith was the trouble between her and her husband now.

“I made all your favorites, Ramsey, and surprisingly they are much better than  the last time we feasted at breakfast,” Clementine laughed merrily as she gazed at her husband’s face, and then quite suddenly and unabashedly she leaned in to brush a kiss to his mouth, not caring who might see and think scandalously of her. “In honor of your bringing little Becky back to us . . .” Clementine beamed at Ramsey’s young patient. “Now I expect you gentlemen to clean your plates, and Becky, you enjoy your meal slowly; simply do the best that you can,” Clementine spoke, looking after her guests from where she sat between Ramsey and Cyrus and across from Rebecca.

“The biscuit recipe was shared with me by my dear friend, Temperance Peters. Do you know Missus Peters, Cyrus?” Clementine answered Cyrus inquiry after the fact, asking her question as she very subtlety removed the now half-empty jam jar from in front of Becky to pass the treat to her husband. “If not then I shall see to it that you make her acquaintance. She is a young widow, beautiful to look at and a blessing to know,” Clementine spoke with evident affection for her friend. “These biscuits are how biscuits are done in Michigan, so she tells me.; and that marvelous jam is her gift as well. I can’t imagine my life here in Escondido without her . . .” Clementine’s smile remained fixed as her silky voice trailed away.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:26, Wed 14 Aug 2013.

She had indeed made all his favorites, Ramsey noted as he tucked into his share of the omelet, and another biscuit slathered with butter.  And they were delicious, and indeed much improved from her previous attempt at a large breakfast.  Clearly Clem was making an effort for him - and if that wasn't obvious enough, she then kissed him lightly on the mouth during the meal.  This was the second time this morning that she had shown him favor and affection, even after what she surely knew was his latest downfall with intemperance.  She knew his flaws, and accepted him, warts and all.  What had he done to deserve such a woman?  What could he do to return her faith and trust in him, but to redouble his efforts to abjure strong drink, and to focus on him career in this town, and make sure they both had a safe and secure home with which to begin a family.

She deserved his best efforts; but was he strong enough to deliver on her faith?  While he bowed his head politely as the Marshal said grace, he did so out of habit and respect, not from devotion or piety.  In fact, one of the things he loved about his wife was that she never threw out angels or demons at him during their disagreements, nor urged him to pray to a god he cared little for and, following his experiences in the War, had severe doubts about; nor did she insist on their attendance at church, or observe any particular stripe of religion; but, like himself, was always ready to blend in with whatever service was required when the occasion demanded.  The Temperance women he'd met in the cities were full of religion, yet his wife was not like those black-dressed, severe old matrons; yet she carried her objections to his abuse of intoxicants with grace, dignity, and a quiet, yet firm, resistance.  He should look to her for his own conduct, and model it after her behavior, and this he promised himself he would do, as best he could.

He just hoped his best would be good enough.

"My love", he observed, "if there is a blessing in this dusty little border town, it is you, and not just for the food you've whipped up.  You continue to be an amazement and a delight in my life, one which I hope I am worthy of.  The Marshal is right: I am lucky; more than I deserve to be.  But with your continued devotion I hope to earn that good fortune.  I'll, ummm...try some of that jam, if I may, please..."

There was more he wanted to say, but not in the company of others.  When the moment was right, he would speak as he wished, and he would not care how much has hands shook, or how many times he needed to wipe his mouth.

With a sigh, the young woman sat back, giving a sigh of relief.  "Oh my goodness!  I've... I've never imagined I'd be so hungry!  I apologize for bein' such a pig!"  Indeed, the girl had eaten a goodly portion of the omelet, a few slices of bacon and two entire biscuits.

She smiled at Clementine.  "Thank you very much, Missus McQueen, for such a wonder breakfast.  I'm reckonin' that I could take a walk now.  I might, as soon as I make sure its all settled in me!"  She giggled.

Cyrus smiled with a hint of self consciousness as he replied in a modest tone, "Well that mighty kind of you to say Mrs. McQueen... and here I was feeling like a "nuisance" intruding every few days to check in on Miss Rebecca's status.

Hopefully in the coming weeks all of us will be able to meet under more sociable circumstances when our respective "on the job duties" can be safely put behind us for at least a few hours."


Cyrus chuckled as he nodded his head and said in a relaxed tone, "Yes Ma'am, that's one expectation I have little doubt I'll be able to fulfill.  This looks to be the best meal I've had in quite awhile and then some."


Cyrus pursed his lips for a moment in thought before he replied with gradually increasing certainty, "Hmm... Mrs. Temperance Peters... the name does sound vague familiar.  Is she the widow with the twin girls... Prudence and... umm... I don't recall the other one's name right off hand at the moment.

I can't rightly say that I "know" except perhaps having seen her goin' about her business durin' the day, thus jus' ta look at and politely tip my hat to her when we've passed each other.  But I don't believe we've actually had a real face-to-face talk.

So no... I don't believe I can rightly claim her as a social acquaintance, though not through any fault of hers or by deliberate design on my part.

I would be much obliged for the introduction as I would like to get to know everyone in town as best as I can.  And it appears I have much to thank her for, not jus' for the great biscuit recipe or tasty jam but for having made your settlin' into town all the more pleasant and pleasurable.  Sound like a mighty nice lady."

Rebecca looked over at the Marshal, and felt a strange emotion come over her.  Was it jealousy?  For a man old enough to be her father?  She felt a blush come over her face at the thought of it, for she had only enjoyed flirting, as she had flirted since she was old enough to know what it was.  It was nothing, right?  But was she truly thinking that way?

She shook her head, trying to hide her emotions by lightly dabbing at her lips.  No, she was not interested in him, just very very grateful for his saving her life and for being the only person left from her past.  He was a connection to her family, nothing more, nothing less.

"Did ye truly visit me, in all the time I was here?" she asked, innocently, trying to cover her embarrassment.

If Cyrus noticed any "reaction" in Rebecca, he didn't let on that he had.

Cyrus turned to Rebecca and smiled in a pleasant manner as he said in a friendly tone with an underlying note of concern, "Well of course Miss Rebecca, I wanted to make sure I would be present should you wake up and... well... I suppose I was keeping tabs on your condition because I felt responsible for you.

It isn't just that you're my only witness to the attack or even that I knew you and your family from back home in kansas, though to be sure that did have the effect of making my concern feel all the more personal.

No... you see Miss Rebecca, there's a certain philosophy that some hold to that when one saves a life, one sorta becomes responsible for that life.  I'm not saying I subscribe that that particular philosophical notion exactly but I do kinda understand the underlyin' principle behind it.

So yeah... I guess havin' been involved in your rescue, I feel a bit responsible for you and your well-being... at least until you can get back on your own two feet."

The doctor's wife surveyed the now decimated breakfast table and exhaled a satisfied sigh. “This breakfast has turned out just fine for all my worrying,” she laughed merrily. “Ramsey is a brave man to invite a friend for a meal without giving me advanced warning, although it may just be that he is a clever doctor, too. My cooking has been known to bring on a belly-ache or two, and we know he has a fix and remedy for that ailment,” she spoke with wifely pride.

Clementine’s smile shined on her husband as her eyes took him in, and when she was satisfied that all seemed well she turned her consideration to Rebecca. “You’ve made a remarkable recovery this morning, Becky; and seeing you with color in your cheeks and a speck of jam on your chin lifts our spirits for we were all in a fret over you, Doctor Ramsey most of all. I don’t know what my husband will advise as you continue to recover but my best advice is to do as he says. Meanwhile, you are welcome to remain in our little hospital . . . ” Clementine’s invitation was heartfelt and the motherly look she offered Becky was warm and inviting; but in her heart of heart she dreaded having anyone living in the house that she shared with Ramsey.

“As for you, Cyrus, why seeing you come through my doorway is always a sight for sore eyes. I shall see what I can do about making a proper introduction for you with Missus Peters. Perhaps I shall hostess a tea party in a day or two . . .  there are several ladies who have become my acquaintances whom I’d like you to meet . . . what do you say to that Becky? Perhaps you’ll help me with the baking . . .”


This message was last edited by the player at 17:03, Sun 18 Aug 2013.

Rebecca looked at Cyrus, unable to keep a small hint of disappointment from her face, despite herself.  "I'm... thinkin' that I am very lucky ye take responsibility so seriously, Marshal.  Papa said ye was an honorable man.  I... I thank ye."

She swallowed, then turned her attention to Mrs. McQueen.  "I fear I am not much use in a kitchen.  Mama, rest her soul, couldna even get me to make biscuits proper!  But I'll find some way t' help, if that's what ye want.  I don't wanna be in th' way."

"I advise more rest, Miss O'Dell...and more bacon", he replied with a wink, biting into another crispy, savory slice of crunchy bacon.  "Healthiest thing god put on the earth for man's use, except he hid it inside a pig, knowing that our ingenuity was such that it was only a matter of time before heaven was alive and here on earth...and on our plates.  I might be exaggerating just a bit."

Ramsey felt he was in a rare good mood; tasty food always seemed to do that for him, not to mention his wife's attention, both of which he'd enjoyed a'plenty this day, even after it started out on the wrong foot.  There is no art in making assumptions, he thought to himself, I thought I was in for one miserable day, and perhaps I am still yet: but right this moment I am content.

"Marshal, you know you are always welcome, patient or not."

Rebecca smiled, shaking her head.  "Truly, I'm not thinkin' I could eat another bite!  But truly, I really feel as if a walk my do me good.  A short one?"

She looked at Cyrus.  "I could get dressed and maybe ye could help me take a short walk?  For m' health?"

As Cyrus, Ramsey, and Becky continued to enjoy the leisurely morning Clementine made quick work of clearing the table and stacking the dishes in the washing tub to be tended later on.

“Ramsey, this chinaware is the last of our pretty things so please be careful, or if you’d prefer leave them for me. I’ll see to the cleaning up when I return from the Mercantile . . .” Clementine smiled at her husband and then turned to Cyrus and Rebecca. “Our crossing was difficult . . . we lost so much that we had been carrying . . .” a dark shadow clouded Clementine’s bright blue gaze as she remembered but the sorrow was so fleeting that perhaps it went unnoticed. “But our loss cannot compare with the tragedy you have endured, Becky,” she spoke kindly, and once more Clementine reached to gently tuck a wayward tendril of hair that resisted taming behind the young woman’s ear.

After a few moments of talk Clementine extended her hand to Cyrus Jericho. Tipping her chin to look up into his steady gaze, Clementine took comfort. “Your presence means the world to me, Cyrus. Now that Becky is feeling better don’t you dare become a stranger to the McQueens.” Clementine smiled warmly and after an iota of too much she took back her hand. "Now I must hurry to the Mercantile before all the choice bits have picked been over, and I have several other errands to attend as well . . . you'll be fine without me for a time?"

When the last that needed to be said had been spoken Clementine put on her stylish bonnet and took up her satchel; and then after brushing a kiss to her husband's cheek Clementine McQueen was out the door.

TO THE STREETS OF ESCONDIDO


This message was last edited by the player at 23:26, Fri 23 Aug 2013.

Rebecca blushed at Mrs. McQueen's kind words.  By reflex, she too tried to tuck that strand of hair back... to no avail.

"I want to get some clothes on, and I want to go for a walk, and I'm not carin' who takes me fully, but I want to go out and see if the sun is as pretty outside as it seems!  Now, I reckon I have the clothes I came in, so can I please get dressed?  I assuredly cannot eat more bacon, no matter how good it is for me!"

He smiled as his wife cleared away the dishes, gave him a quick kiss (again!), and darted out the door to do business.  He too had work to do and supplies to order, but for the moment it was Ms. O'Dell who commanded his attention.

"If the Marshal is willing to escort you I have no worries for your safety; but please, do bring her back if she begins to tire or feel poorly.  We still need to figure out where she will live and what she will do with herself - there must be still some family we can contact back east."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:43, Thu 22 Aug 2013.

Becky smiled, then very carefully pulled herself up.  "I shall.  And ye'll promise t' take good care of me, Marshal?  I'll make m'self proper for ye."

Truth be told, she didn't just want to go for a walk.  She wanted to see her Midnight.

Without help, and a bit wobbly, she made her way back to her bed.  She hoped her clothes were nearby.  Her clothes were a simple dress, boots, and a hat.  The dress was long enough to go to her ankles.

Cyrus smiled shyly as he said in a guarded tone, "That's mighty hospitable of you to offer Mrs. McQueen, though I'm not all that sure those ladies are gonna be all that interested in meetin' me.  But if you're hostessin' a neighborly tea social, I reckon I can find the time to attend."


Cyrus seemed a bit perplexed by the underlying tone in Rebecca's voice but he responded in a polite tone, "Well I greatly admired your Pa, he was a loyal and capable soldier not just in serving me but also during his earlier service under my later Father.  So I highly value his good opinion of me.  As for taking my responsibilities seriously, I hope to continue to do so and clearly that will include keeping a friendly, watchful eye on you Miss Rebecca... at least until you have fully recovered from your ordeal."


Cyrus nodded his head as he said in a grateful tone, "I appreciate that Dr. McQueen, especially as I am still fairly new in town and, as yet, do not know many of the local folks."


Cyrus gently took the hand offered by Clementine and paused for a moment as his instincts almost led him to raising the back of her hand as if to kiss it but his good sense kicked in just in time such that it became merely a slightly awkward but passable handshake.  Cyrus replied in a friendly tone, "I certainly will do my best Mrs. McQueen to maintain the pleasant rapport that's been established between you, your husband, and myself.  As I said to the Doc, I don't know that many people in town and I earnestly wish to remain on good speaking terms with those few whom I do know.

You and the Doc are definitely "good people" in my book and that's true whether or not you're carin' for Miss Rebecca in a kindly fashion."



Cyrus looked from Rebecca to Ramsey and back again as he said in a guarded tone, "Well... if Dr. McQueen feels it would be alright for you, his patient, to get a breath of fresh air and take a turn for a spell outside... well... I reckon I see no reason not to do so.  It was shapin' up to be a nice day outside when I arrived, so a walk in the sun may do you good Miss Rebecca.

Though to be sure, I'll be keepin' an eye on ya and your health.  As the Doc says, we don't want you pushin' yourself too hard before you're ready to make a full recovery.

I will gladly escort you Miss Rebecca, but I must request that if I determine that you should return to Dr. McQueen's care, you won't fight me on that judgement call... are you good ta go with that condition?"


Cyrus smiled warmly as he nodded his head and said, "You can count on that Miss Rebecca, as we discussed earlier... I feel like you have become my responsibility and I take my responsibilities very seriously.

Speakin' of which, this might be a good time to mosey over to where Midnight is bein' stabled and see to it that he has enough feed & water for the day."

Rebecca's face lit up and she clapped her hands, or as best she could with one arm bound.  "Oh truly?  Oh, I would so love that!  I miss him dearly!  Oh, ye're a wonderful wonderful man, Marshal!"

She couldn't skip away, but her demeanor seemed to show she would as she made her way back to her bed area and began looking for clothing.  She found her dress, which had been cleaned and mended, as well as her boots and stockings.  She had to chuckle at the battered old hat sitting with her few things she had been wearing.  One of the freighters had given it to her, when she complained that her bonnet did nothing for keeping the sun off her face.  She held if for a long moment, tears coming to her eyes.  She had been wearing it, she thought, which was why it was here.

She carefully dressed, grimacing as she managed to get her clothing on without the full use of her arm.  By the time she was done, she was breathing heavily, a bit dizzy.  She used that time to try and brush her hair, but her hair was far to long for her to get all the tangles out.  Still, she tamed it a little.

Biting her lip, she stood, then made her way slowly back to the kitchen, holding on to walls for support, but happy to look like herself.  She left the hat behind...

"You folks be careful; been a few hard cases walking the streets lately.  I don't want to have to patch up anyone, much less either of you.  Not tellin' you your business, Marshal, but if you find trouble while you're walkin' Miss O'Dell I'd sooner you scoot than shoot.  I'll be waiting for you both when you come back.  Enjoy your walk."

He wanted to say the same thing to his wife when she left, but she was gone before he could offer to escort her around.  She was fearless and formidable, but neither of those aspects were known to stop a bullet.  He'd heard of trouble further north in places like Cheyenne, Butte, and Deadwood, and there was always trouble just brewing along the border, but so far the violence and lawlessness in Escondito had been minor...so far.  New people came into town every day, and you never knew who was civilized and who was a bushwhacker liquored up on cheap booze, itching for someone to knock the chip from their shoulder.  He wished differences could be settled in a more manly, civilized fashion, like boxing, as they did in New York and Boston.  But out here, the gun ruled because everyone had them.  Ramsey had his own gun, a small three-shot Derringer he kept in his desk drawer in his study.  He couldn't fathom actually using such a device on another person, but he wasn't fool enough to believe that they might skip through a town like Escondito and never run into trouble.  How they avoided trouble on the trail west, and survived, had been pure, dumb luck.  Luck was not something to be relied upon.

In the depth of his addiction he would never have been able to get near a gun; but out here it was an unfortunate necessity.  He trusted the Marshal, and the other forces of the law, to keep the peace; but it didn't hurt to have a little something extra, for back-up.  but deep inside he also know that, if things got really, really bad, and he could not longer suffer the trials and tribulations of life, if something were to happen to Clementine, for example...well, a bullet was quicker than drinking laudanum. He didn't see things turning out like that, but for a time, especially out on that prairie, he wasn't so sure.  He could feel the call of the bottle again on his senses, and he looked down and saw his hand starting to quiver again, slightly.  He had other bottles hidden about the place, in addition to the one he threw out of the window: but he was determined to stay away from them, today at least.  And if he could do it today, perhaps he could do it again tomorrow.  And maybe the day after that.  And then maybe he had a fighting chance.  But it all began with today.

But the call was strong, and getting stronger.  He needed something to take his mind off of things; perhaps a shave and a bath were in order.  He left the others for a moment and took a slip of paper and a pencil from his desk, and then scratched a note for his wife that read "Went to get clean, be back soon", and left it on the breakfast table for her to find.  Who knows, he thought, maybe if he got himself cleaned up and prettied his wife might continue to show him her affection - if that wasn't worth staying sober for then nothing in the world was.

He waited patiently for the Marshal and Miss O'Dell to commence their walk, and thence continue to the barber.

Cyrus rose from the table when first Clementine and then Rebecca left the table and he remained standing having eaten his fill of the hearty breakfast provided for him.

Cyrus nodded his head in agreement as he said, "I imagine that in a town like this, if one only saw a "few" hard cases strolling the streets, one might count one's self lucky.  As I understand it, there's not much in the way of law in Escondido, present company excluded.  When I was cleaning up the US Marshal's office, I had to patch up more than my fair share of bullet holes, which brought home the message that the previous Marshal left this job posting "feet first".  And as I understand it, there hasn't been any real "local law enforcement" by way of a town sheriff in quite some time... not since the last one went "missing".

As for me, my jurisdiction is a bit hazy as far as what I can and cannot do.  Generally speaking, if it is a local matter then its really none of my business except as perhaps a "concerned citizen"... my bailiwick being primarily the enforcement of Federal Law.  But in towns such as this, where local law enforcement is absent, the residing Marshal is often granted additional leeway to keep the peace locally.

That said... I have no intention of endangering Miss Rebecca's life.  It is all well and good to "play sheriff" when I'm on my own with only my own neck being risked but it is quite a different story when an innocent civilian, like Miss Rebecca, could be potentially placed in danger."


As Rebecca reappeared dressed for the walk, Cyrus noted her use of the nearby wall for support and he carefully moved towards her, offering his left arm (keeping his gun hand free) to Rebecca for support as he said in a friendly tone with a warm smile, "Well you look pretty enough to be headin' to Church in your Sunday's Best Miss Rebecca.  No doubt I'll be the envy of all the young men in town, and no few older men as well, walking with you on my arm.

But are you sure you're feelin' up to this right now?

Please remember Dr. McQueen's admonishment not to overtax yourself.  If you begin feelin' faint or fatigued, do please let me know right away... you'll do that for me, won't you Miss Rebecca?"

She took his arm, smiling.  "Fiddlesticks, I'm still lookin' pale and ye're knowing it!" she replied to his compliment.  "But I don't care.  And I'm a wee bit wobbly now, but I'll be right as rain, ye'll see.  I just need some fresh air.  And t' see my Midnight!  But I promise, if I start feelin' puny, I'll be lettin' ye know."

Rebecca looked up with bright eyes, happy and full of mischief.

As Cyrus led Rebecca out the door, holding it open for her to go first, he said in an amused tone, "Well see if I try paying you any more compliments Miss Rebecca... but you know, some folk like the "pale look" in a lady.

Besides... for a girl freshly awoken from a feverish coma, I'd say you're looking just fine... better than fine even."

OOC: ---> to Streets thread

Once he saw the Marshall and Miss O'Dell safely out of his office, he continued himself over to the barber for a bath and a shave.

----> to Barber & Bathhouse