Has Second Life changed...or have we?

~~~

I've been trying out some different things lately--this is Alsium--I'll tell you more about it soon.

~~~

Not too terribly long ago, I was talking with my friend Aldo, and he mentioned that he had gone in-world to pay his rent on the Falling Anvil pub in Tamrannoch, Caledon. While doing so, he got an IM from Prokofy Neva, who he has known since our days in The Sims Online. Prokofy isn't perhaps the easiest person to get along with, but Aldo seems to do pretty well at it, and Prok seems to have respect for him. He said that Prok asked him if he thought that SL is dying, and Aldo replied without hesitation, "no...but it definitely is changing."

So he and I kicked that around some: how it is changing; the evidence for why it isn't dying (unless the labsters seriously settle down with the intention to kill it, once and for all); and speculation about why it is changing. And the thing that I came to conclude is that, yes, Second Life has certainly changed, but perhaps more importantly, a great many of us have changed and are continuing to change, both in how we approach our virtual lives and how important those lives are to us.

Of course, all I can really give you is personal anecdotal evidence for this. I wish I had hard numbers based on serious research and extensive surveys of former and current SL residents...but I don't. All I have to go on is what I am seeing and what I have experienced myself. So yeah, this is yet another opinion carefully extracted from the recesses of mine own middle-aged ass, and its ultimate value should be judged within that highly questionable context. But I can say that I have witnessed--and experienced--some things that make me think that an awful lot of us have changed, much more so than the platform itself has.

For starters, you probably noticed that I haven't written anything in a dreadfully long time--since June. I'm sorry about, but there's a great many factors that influenced that: I took on a new job that has been very intense, one that required me to move again, and that has involved some energetic kicking-of-ass-and-taking-of-names to get things on track. So, by Gawd, I just haven't had the mental energy (nor sufficient time) to actually sit down and write more of the palsied drivel that I was regularly spewing here. More importantly, I felt like I didn't have anything to say that was even remotely worth you all taking the time to read. Not like that stops lots of other bloggers from wasting their readers' time, but hell's britches, y'all, I got more respect for you than that.

To be honest a big part of what was going on was that SL just didn't seem all that important in the larger context of the real life shit that I was dealing with. Yeah, I kept showing up in-world when I could, and I even tried out some new stuff, which I will tell you about in another post. But an awful lot of the time I was angry, and I transferred a lot of those feelings about real life stuff into how I was acting and interacting with people in-world...and, yeah...jeezuschristonafuckingpogostick, I became the original Holy Roman Bitch.

Partly this was because I was having to be a ball-bustin' beeyotch in my rl work, in order to get shit done, to shut down the forces of vile self-interest that were torpedoing the work that needed to be accomplished, and to make sure that the agencies I was working with would not be pissing away the People's money.

I guess I kinda found it hard to shut that off at the end of the day.

And you know, it seems that a lot of friends and acquaintances are going though a similar thing: if you have a job, more than likely, the pressures of doing it well and making sure that you keep it will have an impact on what you are like when you go in world, if you go in-world at all.

I know Aldo is going through something like this. Hell, he is planning on getting rid of the Falling Anvil--that's the oldest continuously operating social venue in Caledon--the home of what may have been one of the first (if not the absolute first) storytelling series in Second Life. His partner Betty has already abandoned her shop next door to the Anvil. She tells me it hadn't been profitable for a long time, but she had held on to it for sentimental reasons, because it was her first place of business in SL, and she and Aldo met there in Tam and wound up getting married irl. But now, it apparently just doesn't seem that important to her in the same way...

Another interesting aspect of this is that Aldo checked in with Desmond, his landlord, to see if there was anyone still on a waiting list for land in Tam, and Desmond replied that no, he actually had quite a bit of land available throughout Caledon. So I take that as another indication of many of us having changed what we consider important--like having a piece of property in a certain place...

Oh, and I had a sad bit of news from another one of my good friends--the kind of news all of us have had recently. My old friend Roku--yes, that Roku, the inspiration for the cynical, gunslinging, hard-ass woman security guard/courtesan in my stories--told me that she was giving up on SL. Leaving her dancing job, selling her land, pullin' up stakes and headin' out. To some extent this is because she's got some health issues going on (and I regualrly say a prayer for her continued progress with it). But most of all, she said she "just wasn't having fun anymore."

Another friend of mine--a very smart and creative lady, an academic irl, dedicated to the idea of education in SL--suddenly announced to me not long ago that she had given up on a particular sim that she had been associated with for a long time. This was a project that from its inception had been meant to have educational value, but the organizers never really quite figured out how to make it work. This friend of mine had nonetheless hung on--literally, for months, if not years--always hoping for an improvement, working to help make the sim live up to its potential. And then all of sudden she decided it wasn't going to happen. She shook the dust from her sandals and moved on. And I don't think it was about SL changing, or the sim changing (if anything, it was perhaps that it wasn't changing). Something changed within her....I think...

I know what that feels like. For a long time, I cut way back on spending time in Deadwood, and it wasn't because of what was going on there. There new build is SUPER, the folks there are working hard to make good stuff happen and to do good rp... so it wasn't the sim or them...it was me.

Likewise I have now left Hogwarts. Why? Well, a lot of people I liked to play with aren't there anymore. But at the same time, some very good folks--folks who I am extremely fond of--are still there. But I found it hard to keep going and putting in the kind of commitment it took to play one of the adults in that set of storylines. Again, it wasn't the sim or the people or the stories--it was me. I think I just got tired. And mean.

I think you can see these kind of changes in the personnel at the Lab as well. While I was taking a break from blogging, M took his leave. Mind you, I never had issues with M the way some folks did. I liked the fact that it appeared that he was trying to make LL run in a more business-like fashion. Of course, he was fighting with a corproate culture that had essentially embraced irresponsibility and elevated fecklessness to the level of an admired virtue. But I wonder, was he forced out, or had something changed inside of him? Had he gotten burned out and tired...or simply saw that what he wanted to happen just wasn't going to happen?

And woopdefuckindoo, now we have Phillip back. Except he's changed too. Did you notice how the whole Emerald thing was handled? There seemed to be none of the old Phil Rosedale style, hippy-dippy, warm and fuzzy, "well kids, let's see how we can work this out with you creative little rascals" type of response, where things would drag on and nothing would happen and you would know that in your heart of hearts, somewhere, a group of miscreants was getting mollycoddled in the typical overly optimistic, California mollycoddling tradition. Nope. Instead it was a fast and hard response, with Phil himself coming forth and saying "hey motherfuckers. You CAN"T DO THAT SHIT. Now cut it the fuck out, RIGHT NOW, or I will make castanets out your testicles."

And lo and behold, the castanets were made.

So either Philip has really changed, or maybe his understanding of how things have to work has evolved.

But things do keep changing. Including us. I'm starting to spend some more time in Deadwood again. I am really enjoying my experiments in NEW STUFF in an ancient Roman sim (which I will tell you about soon, if you would care to listen). I've come to grips with the fact that even though I need to be keep being ol' Blood and Guts in rl, I can get back to being a bit more reasonable in-world. And I am going to get back in the habit of writing here..not as often as I used to, but more often than once every three months.

And I definitely want to get a set of those new Philip Rosedale-brand castanets.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clack

Hmmm. I guess maybe I haven't changed that much. I'm still pretty mean.

~~~

A Deadwood story -- Plain Jane, part 3

~~~

JJ Drinkwater and the Widow Kuhr had stepped back out from the cool darkness of the Bonanza dance hall, blinking in the bright afternoon sun. Noticing a dark dampness that had been left behind after the day's shooting victim had been carted off, Dio scuffed some dust over the spot with her boot.

Her new friend, the writer, watched her in a glum silence. When she had finished more or less camouflaging the blood that had spilled in the street, she looked up and smiled a little sadly.

Yer feelin' a tad let down, ain't ye pard?

JJ Drinkwater tipped his bowler back on his head and stared thoughtfully back into the depths of the dance hall.

"No...not really," he said after a bit. "I've come to expect most stories that I chase to prove to be something less than I was led to expect. I suppose...well, I suppose I'm just a little bit tired."

Dio nodded. "Been a long day I 'spect. Ye got ye a place to rest yer carcass?"

JJ shook his head. "No, Miss Dio, I do not. I should attend to that. I stopped in your establishment almost immediately after having got down from the coach--I had no opportunity to investigate the possibilities."

Well, I tell ye what, pard, I shall take ye tothe Grand Central an' interduce ye to Miz Cookie an Aunt Coodnank who runs the place. I shall see to it they pervide ye with suitable 'commodations." Dio gave a bright little grin. "I think yer gonna like them ladies. Miz Cookie, well, she come from a high-falootin' N'Orlins famly which musta fallen 'pon hard times...an' she is just as charmin as the devil's butler...as well as bein' purt near a madwoman, unless I'm greatly mistaken."

This comment had its intended effect. JJ suddenly snapped out of his vague reverie and suddenly looked a bit intrigued. "Indeed? Mad, yet she runs a hostelry?"

"Yep," continued Dio. "Oh, an' her friend an' associate, Aunt Coodnank--she's this grand mountain of a colored creole woman, a gal o' some respectable age an' substantial wisdom...who is in point o' fact known to converse 'n make idle chit-chat with deceased folks...tho' in all honsety I do at times get to wonderin' what it is that they who've crossed o'er would have to talk about. Seems to me bein' daid probbly don' offer all that much in the way o' fodder fer lively conversation"

JJ looked at the compact figure of the frontierswoman, hands on her hips, her face wreathed in a smile of genuine enthusiasm, and he could not but help smile as well.

"Miss Dio, it would be an honor and a pleasure to meet your friends. I am immensely indebted to you for whatever you are able and willing to do in the way of suitable introductions."

"My pleasure pard, " Dio replied."I think yer gonna find Cookie 'n Coodnank an' their tales will be o' great interest to a scribbler like yerself--an' I can assure ye that Cookie fer one shall be most tickled pink with yer manner o' speech an' the way ye carry yerself. She's oft bemoanin' the lack o' real gentlemanly gents in these parts. An' I am more than happy to make ye known to various other folks who I trust yer gonna find intriguin'...tho'...I tell ye what...would be shame fer ye to come here an' not talk to the personage ye was orignally seekin'....I'm gonna talk with Sam at the Bonanza an request that he have Martha Canary call upon ye when she has once again got up a proper head o' steam suitable fer navigation."

Before JJ could say anything or protest that such an arrangement was unnecessary, Dio had strode purposefully into the dance hall. A moment later, she returned, and with a broad grin and a wink, announced, "Miss Clamity Jane shall meet us at the Number 10 tomorrow, bright and early, somewhere towards the crack o' noon.

Well, Miss Dio was as good as her word on all counts. She did get JJ introduced to some extremely colorful characters that evening, including the aforementioned Miz Cookie and Aunt Coodnank, and the good Mr. Drinkwater, depsite his exhuastion, did in fact find them all to be uniquely delightful.

Likewise, Dio had done a proper job in making arrangements for JJ to meet the actual object of his visit. Shortly before noon the next day, as he sat in the Saloon Number 10, sharing a newspaper with Miss Dio and her friend, Roku, the gunslinging courtesan, JJ was was startled by a harsh, strident voice baying from just outside the saloon, "Cockadoodlefuckin'doo DIO! HERE I AM! Bright an' goddam early as promised, ya dried-up ol' harpy!"

The widow Kuhr looked up from her piece of the paper. "MARTHA! ye scrofulous sack o' miscellaneous ill-used woman parts! Get yer miserable rye-soaked ass in here!"

JJ was surprised, not so much at the impolite vocabulary that decorated the greetin's that were exchanged, as much as he was by the expression on Dio's face.

She looked sincerely pleased to see Miss Canary, who in turn, was grinnin' like a dead possum at Dio. Roku on the other hand, did not even bother to look out from behind her paper, and from JJ's vantage point next to her (he could glimpse her face around the side of the newsprint page she held up), he could see that Roku's expression was not at all friendly.

He didn't have long to reflect on that however, as Dio was already introducing him to the woman who was already the centerpiece of numerous stories being told in places like Laramie and Cheyenne and beyond. He stood and extended his hand without hesitation--Martha Canary grasped it firmly and shook it in a very man-like way.

While Mrs. Kuhr made the introductions, JJ took mental notes about this woman who stood before him. She was of middling height and slight build, with dark, shortish hair and a plain but not unpleasant face. She was considerably tidied up since he had seen her yesterday--he could smell the fragrance of lavender soap from her--and her hair had been washed and neatly combed. Miss Canary wore a different dress...a better one than yesterday. It was a tiny bit frayed at the cuffs and collar, but clean and carefully pressed. There was something...something that JJ found curiously likable about the young woman.

Dio had previously suggested to JJ that he begin proceedings by buying a round of lager for all present (coffee in Dio's case), which he did, and this seemed to get things off to a good start. Martha Canary sipped her beer and sighed happily, and then looked at JJ.

"To yer very good health, pard...an welcome to the Black Hills."

JJ wished her good health as well and raised his glass to their hostess who clinked her coffee mug against all their glasses...including Roku's which had magically appeared for a wordless toast from behind the paper she was still reading.

"So Sam tells me that yer a writer, and that is why ol' Dio wished fer me to come meet ya?" asked Martha.

"Yes," answered JJ. "There are stories related about you down in Cheyenne and thereabouts...you know, there are even some things that have been written about you..."

The writer pulled out a modest booklet from his satchel--Dio could see the words "The Black Hills and American Wonderland by Horatio N. Maguire" on the cover.

Martha Canary took the pamphlet from JJ's hands and regarded at it for a moment with an oddly wistful look. Then she passed it back to him saying, "Pard, I would be greatly obliged if'n ya would read fer me the passage what mentions me...I ain't never larned no readin."

Mr. Drinkwater opened the small volume to a page that had a corner turned down and began to read a section that described how the author, on arriving in the Black Hills, inquired of an "old pioneer" how far it was to Deadwood. The man pointed to a figure on a horse and said, "About a mile and a half; that girl on a horse is going there now." The author said that rider appeared to be a boy rather than a girl, and the old pioneer assured him that it was most certainly a female, a girl known as "Calamity Jane."

The story made Martha Canary laugh.

"Yessir," she snorted, "I do get called that. But that story...tis amusin'...however, let me tell ye some REAL stories about ol' Calamity Jane..."

There was a sudden rustle as Roku put down her paper. She rose without a word and put her empty beer mug on the bar. Finally she spoke, "Thank ya fer the lager, scribbler. If ya care to invest in somethin' truly memorable, come down an' visit me at the Bella. See ya later, Dio." Without looking at Martha, she strode out. Nor did Martha acknowledge Roku's comments or departure. She simply sat with her face fixed on JJ Drinkwater, a stiff sort of smile etched into her features.

Suddenly, JJ was aware of a faint ringing sound. Dio was spinning a bright yellow coin on the table.

"Martha," she said in a quiet voice, not looking up from the spinning coin, "Yer a bettin' woman. I got a 20 dollar gold piece that says ye can't spend the entire afternoon talkin' with JJ here, tellin' him stories about yerself, all of which are nothin' but the absolute, rock solid, unvarnished truth."

Martha Canary looked slightly perplexed and stunned...then a grin slowly spread across her face.

"An afternoon o' stories--an' nothin' but the God's own truth?"

Dio smiled a slight, sardonic smile, and nodded.

"All right, ya goddamn heartless crone, yer on," spat Calamity Jane.

~~~

A Deadwood story -- bad money, conclusion

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A Deadwood story -- bad money

~~~

It was about four days after New Years when Dio got back from the trip to see Sepp. Traveling back hadn’t been too dreadful, but it hadn’t exactly been a trip to a hurdy-gurdy house either. When she rode Hoss over the rise to where she could look down into the semi-civilized little rats’ nest of a town that she called home, she felt slightly warmer inside than she had for a while. Once again having to part ways with that ol’ one-eyed cuss had been harder than she let on.

She had actually been tempted to just send Roku a telegram and tell her she could have the No. 10 if she cared to have it, and another to Hepzibeth giving her the laundry, so she could finally run it with the unfettered frugality and soulless efficiency that her crusty little heart seemed to desire. But after a moment, the thought passed: Sepp had to do what he had to do, and Dio had her part in their plan as well. So long as Providence kept ‘em both from crossing over to the Other-side Camps in the next year, the long-term pay-off would be that much sweeter when they would at last have a ranch together in the hills above Deadwood City.

The plan was draft horses. They were gonna raise draft horses.

And now--coming over the rise and heading down the rutted, dirty snow of the road that led to the Deadwood Creek bridge and onto Main street, and smelling that jumbled perfume that wafted towards her of hundreds of cooking fires, wet straw and raw lumber, and spilled beer and shit--she was glad of her resolve. It was good to be home.

After leaving her two horses to the care of the Metis boy who was working for Silver at the stable, Dio set off with just her saddle bags and carbine for the No. 10--she’d send for her other gear from the pack horse later. Carrie Anne was staying with JF and Lola Kanto and was probably enjoying being part of a more or less normal family for a spell, so she figured she would go collect the girl later. Main thing at the moment was to make sure business was being taken care of. Dio had asked Roku to oversee the 10 in her absence, and to keep an eye on the young man man--an out-of-work miner--that she had engaged to serve the customers.

As she entered the 10, it was fairly busy--some miners in their dirty brown coats and shapeless slouch hats, a teamster wolfing down stew. There were also some of Miss Sal’s girls, off the clock and utterly uninterested in any male company, siting at the one table in the back, smoking their thin, hand-rolled cigarettes and playing a quiet hand of poker. And Roku was tending bar. Dressed in a man’s shirt, waistcoat and trousers--her usual “security guard” garb--washing out some beer mugs.

Roku’s standard hard and unreadable expression briefly broke into a slightly softer form when she saw Dio come through the door.

“Howdy Dio. Glad to see yah ain’t dead yet.”

“Pleasantly surprised to see you ain’t dead yet neither,” replied Dio. "What ye doin’ behind the bar? Where’s that feller I’d hired on to draw beer whilst I was gone? He get shot or somethin?"

“Nope,” answered Roku with a scowl. “Ah fahred the feckless cocksucker.”

“Fired him? How come?”

Roku sat down the beer mug she was wiping off, and leaned across the bar.

“We had somebody--some no-good rat bastard--passing bad bank notes in here,” she said in a hushed tone. "An’ that idjit never caught on...so ah tol’ him his services was no longer required.”

Roku called out to one of the Bella gals who was playing cards: “Hey there Suzy! Hon, would ya take o’er watchin’ the bar here fer a short spell, whilst ah talk with Miz Dio in the back room?”

The girl nodded and took Roku’s place behind the bar. Dio followed her friend into the back room of the saloon, and after lighting a lamp, they closed the heavy door behind them.

Roku pulled a folded banknote out of the watch pocket on her waistcoat and handed it to Dio, who unfolded it and examined it, turning it over a couple of times. It was a twenty dollar note issued by the First Gold Bank of San Francisco, and it looked pretty damned good. If anything, it was tad on the fresh and crispy side compared to the usual condition of the shinplasters that you saw being handed around on the frontier...but it seemed to have the right colors and correct details.

Dio looked back at Roku, who was watching her friend with her hands on her hips and an expectant expression.

“Well, Hon other than the fact that it’s in mighty good shape, and is a relatively larger denomination, which leads me to be suspicious....I can see how they would fool someone of a trusting nature...or a greenhorn...”

Without a word, Roku pulled out a second banknote from the black japanned cash box that Dio kept under the bed. The paper bill was from the same source and of the same denomination as the first one...and it had the same serial number.

“Oh Satan’s huge red testicles,” hissed Dio with disgust. “Some knee-walkin’ peckerhead was payin’ fer shit with new-lookin’ twenties...multiple examples of ‘em, no less...and our goddam bar man didn’t look at the red numbers?”

Roku shrugged. “It was the eve o’ New Year’s, an’ we was busier’n a fifty-cent whore in Abilene during cattle season...but yeah, ah wasn’t too fuckin’ happy. Our man wasn’t bein’ too bright."

"Jeezusfuckin’Christ on a steamboat to St. Louis! The swindler warn’t too overly bright neither, havin' a bootle o’ nothin’ but bad notes with the same numbers!”

“Oh, he had batches of a couple different serial numbers--he just got careless or lazy when he was in here an’ din’t mix ‘em up enough,” answered Roku with a sly little smile. “Yah see, ah kinda caught on, an’ followed the chiselin’ bastard out when he left. Him ‘n me had a lil’ ol chit-chat down by the crik an’ he wound up goin’ for a swim.” Her expression went very hard suddenly. “And he ain’t godamn comin’ back. But ah took the libbaty o’ relievin’ him of his saddle bags--bein’ as he sure as hell wasn’t gonna need ‘em no more. And sure enough they had his bootle, which was about six lil’ bundles o’ twenties, each with a differnt serial number, an’ mebbe 'bout fifty to a hunnert notes in each bundle. Ah saw that, an’ then ah come on back here ‘n fahred yer wuthless bartender.”

Dio shook her head in mock sadness, and chuckled. “Damnation, once agin, I am sorely disappointed in humanity an’ its wicked ways. Oh well, let’s move on to more important things. Unless I am very much mistaken, payment to Pratt on the debt is due tomorrow. We need to work on pulling together what we need t’ keep that ol’ sheep-fuckin’ grafter happy fer another month.”

This was actually a sore subject between them. When Dio had taken over management of the Saloon Number 10, that not only meant getting the lease, lock, stock and rain barrel, it also apparently meant everything else that went with it--including a debt that the previous owner had incurred with Bill Pratt, owner of the Red Eagle saloon and a real shark in the moneylending business. Charging exorbitant interest was Bill's specialty. This explained a good bit of why the old owner had been so eager to get out from under running the 10. Dio was not happy when this development cropped up, but Pratt did have a piece of paper that said the money had been lent to the business, not to Mann personally. After reviewing the situation with some of the town’s sharpest legal minds--the sober ones, anyway--Dio had decided there was no recourse but to pay it off. Roku, naturally, had wanted to simply shoot the sonofabitch and be done with it, but Dio wasn’t too sure how that was going to work out, considering the friends and associates that Pratt seemed to have around town.

So anyhow, when she brought the subject up, Dio fully expected Roku to scowl and cuss and grumble about making the payments on that debt...but instead she was remarkably relaxed, rolling herself a cigarette and smiling a happy little smile like the proverbial cat who had just eaten the canary.

“It’s allright Dio. Me an’ Hepzibeth already done took care o’ the matter. In fact, we done got it paid off in full an’ have got you a signed note from that cocksucker Pratt, sayin’ the debt is discharged.”

Dio looked at Roku for a moment, and her mouth actually moved up and down a little bit before something actually came out: “Oh...Hecate’s britches Roku...you...you didn’t...did you?”

Roku just grinned happily and struck a lucifer on the edge of the ice box to light her smoke with.

“Roku...surely he musta..or is gonna notice the notes that have the same serial numbers--you cain’t pass bad money in big batches like that...”

“Shit Dio, ah ain’t as goddam stupid as all that,” Roku snorted. “No, we mixed in some real notes--a reasonable number by mah estimation--an’ we had Lockmort use his artistical skills to change numbers on a mess o’ the bad notes. Then we took em all an’ Hepzibeth worked ‘em over in one o’ her warsh tubs to soften em up a tad to make ‘em look more used.”

“But...”

Roku held up her hand to stop Dio from saying another word. “An’ besides..we also took out some insurance, to gar-on-tee a satisfactory conclusion to the situation. You know how Meri is now workin’ fer the gov’mint--the Treasury department?”

“Ah. I see,” said Dio in a thoughtful tone.

Meriweather Runningbear was a friend of Dio and Roku's--a former territorial lawman who had been hired on by the federal Treasury department to work as a member of what they were calling the “secret service.” Agents like Meri were assigned to such tasks as looking for distillers who were making untaxed whiskey, tracing down confidence men who chiseled on government contracts, and--most important of all--catching counterfeiters.

“So ye gave Meri a tip-off that Pratt was holdin’ an’ passin’ bad money?”

Roku nodded cheerfully. “Yep.”

"Ye know that when Meri looks at the notes that Hepzibeth paid him with, an’ he sees they’s bogus, Pratt is a’gonna explain they all come from here.”

“Oh, ah din’t tell Meri to go look at that money,” Roku laughed. “Hepzibeth payin’ the debt off was just a distraction--an ‘sides, with the work that Lock and Heppy did on 'em, they’s probably gonna pass better now.”

“So...Hon...what’s the actual grift?”

“Well mind ye, this was after dark, last night. So whilst Heppy was keepin Pratt an his lapdogs all occupied, makin’ a big show o’ turnin’ o’er the money an’ buyin’ em a round o drinks an’ all...ah clumb o’er the second floor porch under the cover o’ darkness an’ went in thru the winder to Pratt’s office. I took the remainder o’ the bootle o’ bad banknotes--unchanged, with many of ‘em havin’ the same serial numbers--an’ I stashed ‘em under the cushion of a easy chair in the fucker’s office.”

Dio looked impressed. “So...when is the turd gonna land in the punchbowl?”

Roku opened the door and called out into the bar which still had some of the miners and the Bella girls in it.

“Hey y’all!” Anyone got the time?”

“Hang on a second, sweetie,” replied one of the girls. She pulled a small watch on a chain out from between her breasts and peered at it. “About five to ten.”

Roku looked at Dio and smiled. “About five minutes from now. Matter o’ fact I promised Meri that I would pervide him ‘n JF some assistance if needed, an’....”

Just then, a great deal of commotion erupted from across the street at the Red Eagle. Glass was breaking, and several shots were fired. Dio and Roku rushed to look out the door of the Number 10, just in time to see the right-hand first floor window on the Red Eagle suddenly explode into a shower of sparkling glass fragments and bits of window frame as one of Pratt’s lackeys came flying through it--no doubt propelled by JF’s massive arms. The man landed in a bloody, unconscious pile on the boardwalk.

“Well shit,” said Roku, her voice flat with disappointment. “I reckon Meri’s watch must run fast.”

Suddenly, there were two more shots and a scream. Just as suddenly, another window--but this time up on the second floor of the Red Eagle--shattered to pieces as a figure dove through.

It was Pratt. He rolled to his feet on the porch and leapt off down to the street. He quickly got up and limped a few steps to a horse that someone had tied to nearby post.

As he was clambering on and beginning to gallop off down the street, Roku said something under her breath that sounded like, “I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

She dashed back behind the bar where Dio’s Spencer was leaning. By the time she had run back out into the street, Pratt was already across the bridge and heading up the rise past the stagecoach office. Roku threw the carbine to her shoulder and fired two rounds at the disappearing figure of Pratt.

It was one hell of a shot with a short-barreled carbine at that distance. Dio watched as the rider slumped and droped off the horse.

Dio walked out into the center of the street She could see Meri coming out of the Red Eagle, carrying some kind of a bundle in his right hand. His left was wrapped in a bloody rag. JF came out next, pushing another of Pratt’s men who was in handcuffs, hatless and disheveled, with blood streaming down his face. Dio assumed that the remainder of Pratt's boys were incapable of walking--perhaps likewise incapable of breathing.

Meri called over to the women: “Roku! did Pratt get away?”

Roku shook her head, “No.” She pointed up to the rise on the other side of Deadwood creek where a dark shape could be seen crumpled on the snow. Then, wordlessly, she turned and slowly went back into the Number 10.

Dio watched JF put cuffs on the unconscious man and tell some of the bystanders to go fetch Mr. Sorrowman's little hand cart to bring him along to the lockup. As JF started shoving the other man who was still upright in the direction of the jail, Dio turned away and returned to her own saloon.

She vaguely wondered if Roku would feel any discomfort at the idea that her plan to frame Pratt had ended with a number of men being killed and wounded. Yeah, Pratt was a weasel-fucking sonofabitch, and as they used to say down in Texas, he probably “needed killing.” Even his so-called friends would not be inclined to hold anything against Roku for shooting him, once it was made known that the man was “passing bad money” and thereby threatening to ruin the local economy. No one would mourn his passing, and quite a few would most likely rejoice, especially those who owed crushing debts to the man--but it still didn’t seem quite right to Dio.

Back inside, Roku already had the Spencer’s breech open and was running a cleaning rod and patch through the barrel. No one was speaking. Roku did not look happy. Maybe she did feel some regret about this situation.

Dio leaned on the bar next to her and asked softly. “Hon? everthin’ allright? You look as though somethin’ is botherin’ ye”

Roku looked up at her friend.

“Yeah. Goddammit Dio, ah’m sorry.”

“Sorry? About what?”

“That ah didn’t go an’ kill that bloodsuckin’ leech before we got yor debt all cleared up an' paid off.”

~~~

A Deadwood story -- is that any way to raise a child? conclusion

~~~

Roku had taken Elizabeth to the Number 10 to dry her out by the stove. By the time Dio had run down there to the No. 10, with Carrie Anne close at her heels, something of a small crowd had formed there, including JF and his wife Lola, Miss Sal from the Bella, They had Elizabeth wrapped in a blanket, laying across some benches that had been pushed together right by the little iron stove. Someone had stoked up the stove to the point that it was making the air around it shimmer with the heat.

Roku was standing behind the bar in a sizable puddle of water that was still growin’ from the water that continued to drip from her sodden dress. She had appropriated the only bottle of hard liquor that was to be found at the No. 10, a bottle of cheap red mule that Dio kept under the bar with her medical supplies for washing wounds and cleaning suture needles and such. At that moment, Roku was not employing the whisky for medicinal purposes in the strictest sense of the term. But I imagine that in a way, you could argue that the liberal dose of the stuff she had poured into a beer mug--and which she was working on applying internally--probably was having a useful therapeutic effect.

Elizabeth’s eyes were closed. Her breathin’ was shallow, and her usual pallid complexion was distinctly predominatin’ to a kinda inerestin' shade o’ pale blue.

Lola looked up as Dio came in.

“Dio, she’s like a block of ice. Her clothes are wet through--have you got anything dry we can put on her?”

Dio knelt by the benches that Elizabeth was laying across, and took one of her small, damp hands in hers. It felt lifeless, like a fish you’d caught earlier in the day, and which had long since ceased flippin’ about. She turned to Carrie Anne.

“Hon, would ye be so kind as to go look through yer things in the trunk under the bed--get out a full set o' duds fer Elizabeth as well as some clean things fer yerself.”

“Yes’m.”

Sal had just filled up a kettle of water to heat on the stove. It made a sizzling nose as soon as she set it upon the well-warmed metal. “I think that child will need some hot tea in her as soon as possible, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” agreed JF. “I believe she’s chilled inside ‘n out.”

I tried to reach for her when I saw her jump in,” said Carrie Anne, who was just then emerging from the back room with a armful of dry clothing. “But she... she was being swept and tumbled along. Then I saw Miss Roku comin’ from the Church and I hollered for her an’ she jumped right in to get Elizabeth....” Carrie Anne’s face had been very serious...almost expressionless, but now it sort of crumpled up a little bit and her voice got very small. “I...I tried to reach her...really I did...”

Sherrif JF Kanto looked down at Carrie Anne and smiled in a gentle sort o’ way. “It’s all right Carrie Anne,” he said. “ You did well. You are a good friend to Elizabeth. And you are to be commended for thinkin’ quick and actin’ just as fast, grabbing that rope and throwin’ it to Roku so she could get back out with your friend...”

“I was awful afraid it was going to work,” said Carrie Anne. I was sure if I tried to just hold on to the rope I was just gonna get pulled in too, so I wrapped the end of it around the tongue of that wagon that is sittin’ back there by the creek.

“Ah’m mighty glad ya did that.” Roku did not look at Carrie Anne as she spoke. She was focussed on pouring herself another liberal dose of amber-colored “medicine” from the bottle of red mule. “Ah was beginnin’ to have m’ doubts as to the wisdom o’ not jus’ lettin’ Elizabeth float away.”

JF put one o’ those massive hands o’ his on her shoulder in a way that was remarkably tender for such a big man, and one who...well...some other time, I probably should tell you about JF’s history before he came to Deadwood, but that will have to wait for now. Suffice to say, his history was not one that would incline you to believe him to be a man given to tender sentiments and consideration. “You did real well,” he repeated in a reassuring tone.

Lola was working on peeling off Elizabeth’s wet clothing, while Dio chafed her skin with a big towel and worked the girl’s arms and legs to get her circulation going. Elizabeth’s teeth chattered slightly, and she shook a bit, but her eyes remained closed. Carrie Anne sighed and bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

As they got more of the child’s clothing off, JF discreetly turned while they changed her into the dry things. His eyes met Roku’s for a moment. “Roku...you allright?”

Roku’s habitually hard expression softened briefly...and then returned almost as quickly to its normal state.

“Aw fuck it, JF...course ah’m allright. When am ah evah not allright?”

“Hey Roku,” Dio called out as she continued working on drying off Elizabeth and helping with getting her re-dressed. “If’n ye want, yer more’n welcome to look through my stuff an’ find some dry duds. O’ course none of it is likely to fit ye worth a tinker’s dam. Lanky, big-titted critter like you would most likely look mighty silly wearin’ an outfit sized fer a mite like m’self.

The mental image conjured up by Dio’s offer of clothing caused most of those present to smile in spite of the seriousness of the situation. Sal in particular got the giggles as she pictured Roku tryin’ to fit into one of the smaller woman’s shirts and a skirt.

They had finished changing Elizabeth and wrapped her in a big trade blanket, with another folded up and placed under her head as a pillow. Carrie Anne went into the back room to change out of her muddy, wet dress and stockings. Meanwhile, the water in the kettle was starting to boil. Sal grabbed the hot handle with a rag and took it off to make up some willow bark ea.

As Dio stroked Elizabeth’s still damp hair, she muttered, “Oh Lizabeth, chile, what was ye thinkin?”

“It’s my fault.” the sheriff stated flatly.

“No it ain't, JF,” answered Dio “Don't talk like that.”

“I shouldn’t have been so hard on her about Alonzo.”

*Dio shrugged. It ain't like you were one who tossed her tossed her in the crik, JF.”

The big man just shook his head. The he turned, so that no one could see the tear that that was running down his cheek. Lola watched him and sighed, “Oh, JF, it ain't your fault.”

Dio gently lifted Elizabeth’s head. “Ok gals, lets see if'n she kin have a sip or two o’ that hot tea.”

The girl’s eyes fluttered open...she was starting to respond to the warmth of the stove and the dry clothing and was coming around.

“Am I dead yet?” she asked in a very small voice.

Sal was puzzled by Elizabeth’s question. “What did she say?”

Elizabeth opened her eyes wider and looked around. Upon seeing Dio, Lola and JF, she appeared to be very disappointed. “Oh.. nooooooooooooooo, “ she moaned and pushed the cut of tea away.

“Are you all dead too?” she inquired plaintively.

Lola sighed. “Nobody's dead, ‘Lizabeth. Not you nor us, nor Roku, nor even Alonzo.”

Elizabeth sniffled a bit. “We nearly killed him...”

“Naw Hon,” Dio smiled. “That boy is fine as kin be--I am told he has been wanderin’ around, bein’ the usual goddam pest he always is.”

Elizabeth’s expression evidenced a certain degree of doubt. “We nearly drowned him for certain. He must be at death’s door...”

Dio shook her head. “Nope, no worse fer wear...”

“Everything is just fine now, little one,” said JF.

Elizabeth suddenly looked around in alarm. “Where is Carrie Anne? Did Carrie Anne have to go to jail?!” She started to cry.

“NO, o’ course she ain’t in jail.” replied Dio, a reassuring smile plastered on her face, though a hint of irritation had crept into her voice. “And I ain’t turned her out...she’s in the back room puttin’ on some clean clothes....an’ I want you ‘n Carrie Anne to keep bein’ friends.”

A voice from direction of the bar chimed in at this point. “Evahbody needs ta have a goddamn frend.”

They all turned to look at Roku, surprised by her sudden contribution to the conversation. The all waited for a moment to see if she was going to elaborate further on her statement about friendship. Instead. she looked back at them in a curious way, then shrugged and took another big sip of red mule. JF noticed at that point that well more than two-thirds of the bottle’s contents seemed to have evaporated.

“So we didn’t hurt Alonzo any?” asked Elizabeth uncertainly.

JF shook his head. “Not a whit.” agreed Dio. “ You din't do the lil’ peckerhead no harm in the least! Now do I gotta go find the silly lil turd to show ye? Please say no, as I'd druther not...that boy gets on my last goddam nerve.”

Just then Carrie Anne emerged from the backroom wearing the other set of clothing that she owned, and some clean, if slightly shabby-looking stockings. The mud had been wiped off her bootees, and she had retied the ribbon in her hair which was now properly combed.

Elizabeth saw her friend come out and a huge smile erupted across her pale features. “Carrie Anne! We dint hurt Alonzo any, an we’re not goin’ to jail... and Miss Dio wants you to stay with her ‘n we can still be friends! Even Miss Roku says so...um..I think!”

Carrie Anne knelt by the benches and took Elizabeth’s small hand in hers. She was squeezing it so hard that after a moment she wondered if she was hurting Elizabeth any, but her friend didn’t seem to mind.

Dio looked very happy, perhaps out of relief that she did not have to go find Alonzo to convince Elizabeth that he was allright. It was in fact, a dismal truth that few creatures dwelling within the realm of God’s green earth irritated the livin’ piss outta Dio as much as that boy did.

But something else was on her mind as well.

“Say gals, I gotta tell you somthin’....earlier when you all fessed up...I noted that the both o’ ye tried to take the blame, din't ye?”

The girls both nodded. “Yes ma'am.” said Elizabeth meekly.

“Ye din't want the other to be punished, did ye?”

“NO ma'am,” Elizabeth said fiercely. “I started it, I pushed him first!”

Carrie Anne glaredat her friend. “No! It was my fault!”

Lola shook her head and looked at JF, who was grinning. Dio held up a hand for silence.

“Well let’s leave off that argument about fault...it ain't no matter...ain’t of any importance at’all right now. What is important is that ye showed me you two is true pards...ye know what that means?”

Elizabeth looked uncertain and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. She looked at Miss Dio, and then to Carrie Anne, and then back at Miss Dio.

“You know what it means fer you ‘n Carrie to be pards?” asked Dio again.

“uh-uh,” responded Elizabeth quietly. “I don’t think I never had one of those before...”

Dio smiled. “Well, Hon, ye goddam well got one now. And it means you two are the best kind o' friends..the kind who got one another's back, who ain't afeared o’ sufferin’ an' sacrificin’ on behalf o’ the other

JF reached out and softly stroked Elizabeth's head and Carrie Anne squeezed her hand even more tightly. Elizabeth blinked away some tears, and relished the warmth of Carrie Anne’s hand on her cold, cold fingers. Sal was still kind of gobsmacked by the realization that this child had wanted to harm herself. But Dio was a roll, God bless ‘er. and she went on with her discussion of what it meant to be someone’s “pard.”

I want you two gals to understand that the kind o' friends that you are to each other--it’s a kind o’ friend is real goddam hard to find...an’ I was so dammed proud o' you two..fessin’ up, an each tryin’ to take the blame. Elizabeth...yer real lucky to have a pard like Carrie Anne...an’ she's real fortunate to have one like you. You understand that Hon?”

Elizabeth looked downcast still. “I think so...but I...I am a bad influence on her, everybody knows it...and...”

Elizabeth’s voice became very faint. “And people....the people I care ‘bout...they all die. I don’t want Carrie Anne to die. I would rather die myself than that happen...”

Carrie Anne leaned in closer to Elizabeth and whispered. "Ya can't die. I told the undertaker 'bout you, he says you can work for 'im when yer bigger"

Dio came over and sat on the bench next to Elizabeth. “Now Hon...I don't know all the details about why ye's wishin’ yerself dead...but I got a big favor to ask ye...”

Elizabeth looked at Miss Dio curiously. No one had asked a ‘favor” of her before. No adult anyway. She had always been told what to do and when and where to do it. In a tiny voice she answered, "Yes ma'am?"

“Lizzie..I need ye to keep on a stayin’ with us in this goddam vale o’ tears fer a spell...an’ it's real selfish o’ me that I do so, but I am gonna ask you anyhow...”

“What's a vale of tears?” interrupted Elizabeth. She looked over at Carrie Anne to see if she knew what the hell Miss Dio was talking about.

Dio sighed. “Hon...I am referrin’ to this world.,,the world o’ the livin’ as opposed to the next...to the Happy Huntin’ Ground, or what some o’ the tribes call the Other Side Camps. I kin understand ye wantin’ to go to the Happy Huntin’ Ground..they's probly folks ye love a-waitin’ there for ye...like I got m' Papaw an m' husban’ Jack there, waitin’ fer me.

Elizabeth thought she had a pretty good idea what Dio was talking about. She decided the woman must mean heaven, but she just didn’t know enough about religion to call it that. She then started to wonder if there was a thing such as the Unhappy Hunting Ground, where bad people would go. She tried to shake off that thought, so she could keep concentrating on what Dio was asking her.

“So you don’t want me to die and go to heaven?” she asked.

Once again, Dio found herself sighing. “Well...just not right now Hon. I have every confidence yer gonna get there some day. And we do all have to die sooner or later. I am just askin’ ye that if ye kin help it, try to make it later. Look...you know how much I love Carrie Anne don't ye?

Elizabeth nodded. “I think so...‘cause you gave her a horse.”

“Well, they's some things I cain't give Carrie. I kin give her a home, a pony, an shootin’ lessons an grub an all that...an’ I kin love her...but I cain't really be her pard. She needs you fer that.”

“I could try that...” Elizabeth looked at Carrie Anne. “You just gotta be careful around me 'cause... people tend to die around me.”

Carrie Anne shrugged "I'll risk it."

“Aw hell,” Dio laughed, “folks here in Deadwood, we don't die easy...right Carrie Anne?

“Goddamn right.” answered Roku, who was staring at a now empty whiskey bottle in a rather morose and slightly puzzled fashion. “Hey Dio, ya need to get another bottle of hootch for yer medical supplies. This’n seems about out.”

She then carefully placed the empty bottle on the back bar and headed for the door, betraying no indication of the unsteadiness most folks usually display after having finished off the better part of a pint of coffin varnish. At the door, she turned and fixed her stare on Carrie Anne.

“Hey, kid!”

Carrie Anne looked up, her face impassive.

“Ya know how ah said ya was gonna hav’ta earn m’ friendship back?”

Carrie Anne nodded.

“Well, ah figured ya were gonna be able to do it...I jus’ didin’t ‘spect ya was gonna be able to do it so goddamn quick. Thanks fer the rope.”

Without another word, Roku stalked out of the Number 10, hopefully off to find some dry garments.

Dio watched her go and then turned back to Elizabeth.

“Now Lizzie I know ye want to be gettin' on t' the Happy Huntin’ Ground so as to be with yer loved ones who are awaitin’ ye there...but best way to get there is to live well ‘n die well...and as fer livin’ well..one thing ye could do that would count nicely fer that is stayin’ here to be Carrie Anne’s pard. Please don’t don’t try to harm yerself again, Hon.”

Elizabeth smiled at Carrie Anne. “If she'll take the chance that I might accidentally cause her to die, then I will be her pard.” She thought for a moment. “And I won't try to hurt myself. Also, I won't ever try to drown Alonzo again...but I still don't like him.”

Dio handed Elizabeth her cup of tea. “That's ok I don' care fer the dirt eatin’ lump of a chile neither...an’ hell, yer allowed t’ not like folks. It's like Jesus tol’ his holy apostles, ‘Boys, remember that ye gotta love thy neighbor...but it don't mean ye gotta like the sonofabitch’...them are good words to live by.”

The two girls both seemed to drinking in this wisdom. “You know, I did go to church, like Miss Roku told me to,” said Elizabeth. “But God weren't there...” her voice trailed off.

Dio nodded, seemingly unsurprised by this news. Then she gently laid her hand on Elizabeth and Carrie Anne’s tightly clasped hands.

“And Lizzie?”

“Yes ma'am?”

“Thank you.”

Elizabeth looks surprised at this. “For what?” she asked.

“Fer stickin' around to be Carrie Anne's pard...it means the world to me...an’ I reckon it does to Carrie Anne as well."

Elizabeth blinked, and smiled an odd little smile. “Um... thank you ma'am for not shouting at me and looking after me just now...”

She looked shyly around the room at JF and Lola and Sal. “And thank you all too.”

Dio chuckled slightly. “Beelzebub's bunghole, Hon! Why in the name o’ Saint Pete's outhouse door would I yell at ye? I'm findin’ m'self right fond o’ ye.”

~~~

A Deadwood Story -- is that any way to raise a child? part 4

~~~

Dio and carrie Anne had proceeded to fetch the week’s laundry and the linens from the orphanage and carried the large bundles back to the Laundry on China Row. Business was slow, so Dio gave Hepzibeth some greenbacks and suggested that she take herself, along with Jiu and Bo down to Miss Estwee’s for some pie and coffee. The latter two, as you may have gathered from their names, were a couple of Celestials who were workin’ for Dio at the time. Bo was a nice quiet young man, and Jiu was this sort o’ plain gal who might have been his sister, or maybe not. Hard to say about those things sometimes.

Whitewood Creek, back behind the laundry and China Row

Anyhow, Dio kinda felt like Carrie doin’ her punishment was something that didn’t require other folks to be hanging around watching, so she told Heppy, Bo and Jiu to take their time and just have a morning off, with pay, of course. Hepzibeth, as usual, shook her head in a disapproving sort of way, as such extravagance offended her Scottish sense of frugal practicality. Mind you, some folks will argue that the notion of Scottish folk being a mite close-fisted with their pennies is one of those silly generalizations about an entire class of people that is something of an exaggeration. As far as I am concerned, ‘tis nothing more than one of those spurious notions that get repeated and reinforced by the lazy-minded draftsmen who make the odd-looking drawings as a sort of social or political commentary in Harper’s Weekly (and similar publications that rely on mass sales to the lowest common denominator for their fiscal survival). In the case of Heppy, however, I will go so far as to warrant that the cliche was to some extent accurate, bein’ as the gal did in fact embrace frugality with an almost religious fervor.

Bo and Jiu, on the other, looked pleased as punch. From their perspective, this was just further evidence to them that Missy Di-oh was probably a little bit on the high side of mad, but that her particular brand of lunacy was like that of the blessed Happy Idiots, and a source of good fortune to people like themselves. They thanked their Boss Lady most graciously and dashed off in Hepzibeth’s wake towards Miss Estwee’s and the pie.

Carrie Anne was somewhat surprised to find that Dio did not leave the entire task to her. Without wasting a whole lot of words on the subject, Dio set carrie Anne to hauling water from the creek to put on the stove to heat up. Meanwhile Dio started sorting the soiled items and doing the pre-wash treatments: milk on the urine stains; kerosene on the blood and grass stains. It did not make Carrie Anne feel any better that Dio seemed to be punishing herself as well as her.

As Carrie Anne was just beginning on agitating the first batch of clothes in a tub of hot water and lye soap, Roku sauntered in.

Dio looked up from some particularly unpleasant stain in someone's drawers that she was working over with a concoction made from pig droppings (for the ammonia in it, you know).

“Hello Roku,”

“Howdy.” replied Roku. “Oh... catchin’ up on the laundry, ah see.”

Dio smiled lightly. “Well, actually, Roku....as much as I know you would have enjoyed chuckin’ the gals in the river...I thought a better thing to do as a punishment fer Carrie Anne would be to set her to washin’ all the linens an other laundry from the orphanage, an’ for her to be thinkin’ on how Alonzo is mebbe a pain in the ass cuz he ain't got no one to tell him better an give him no attention.

Roku nodded. This seemed to be an agreeable sort of plan to her.

Dio went on, “After all, he has to live at the orphanage, which truth be told is kind of a lonely place these days.”

Carrie Anne did not look up from the tub full of clothes she was agitating with the wooden paddle. She was thinking that she had been lonely plenty of times with no one telling her how to behave, but that she had managed to not be a pain in the ass to anyone...that she knew of, anyhow. Even though she was thinking this, she said nothing, and kept spinning and turning the paddle.

“Well, ah told Elizabeth to go to church and pray for his forgiveness for doin such a fool thing,” said Roku. She then looked sort of thoughtful. “While ah am sure ye gave Carrie Anne a good talkin’ to...an’ this here is a fine punishment as well...did ya spank her good? Ah hopes ya spanked her so good her butt was red and raw.”

Dio sighed. “Roku, did gettin’ spanked ever do you any good as a chile?”

“Oh yes! Ah learned not to do bad things cause ah didn’t like to be spanked. Ah think Carrie Anne needs ah good spankin’ for almost drowning that feckless kid.”

As she listened to Roku, Carrie Anne had slowed down agitatin’ the clothes to almost nothing. She thought, “If anyone hits me, I shall run away to live with the indians. They probably won’t want to scalp me if I just ask to join them, instead of trading whiskey to them...that was a dumb idea anyhow.” She was feeling a growing level of irritation with Elizabeth, although she wasn’t quite to the point of thinking it had all been her friend’s fault that they were in this situation.

Dio, however, did not seem swayed by Roku’s argument. “Ye know... funny thing..when I got whupped..back before m' pa stopped givin’ a shit about what I did or din't do...the whuppin’ din't make me behave no better..jus made me look fer ways to git even. I spit in m pa's soup one time after he whupped me...”

Roku frowned. “Well, ya is unusual in that regard, Dio. Most folks spank the tar outa theys kids when they does bad things, and they grows up good.”

Dio briefly considered pointing out that in Roku’s case, she had evidently been spanked as a child a good bit, and had grown up to be a part-time prostitute who was very comfortable with killing other human beings--so maybe perceptions of “grows up good” were kinda sorta relative. But she thought the better of it and let it go.

Instead, she took a different tack in statin’ her case: “Roku, I know lots o’ folks wallop they young’uns somethin’ dreadful, an’ apparently the Good Book tells em that’s the right thing to do an’ all. Unfortunately, that must ha’ been writ down in the part o’ our Bible that Papaw used fer kindlin’ one real bad winter, so’s I never got to read that bit.”

That made Roku laugh, but Dio’s face was deadly serious as she continued. “I ‘spose I’m jus’ a ignerant heathen savage in that sense. Probbly spent too much time around injuns. Ye know, injuns is greatly fond o’ chillun, an’ as a rule they generally don’t beat their young’un’s with the regularity an’ enthusiasm that civilized folk seem to. So’s here my way o’ lookin at it--Carrie Anne, in the strict sense of it, ain’t my chile. An’ I ain’t her ma. But I do think of it as she is on her way to bein’ a Kuhr. So I reckon I might do better treatin’ her as such...doin’ this the way m’ Papaw woulda done. That is why I have set her to a punishment that involves doin’ somethin’ worthwhile, what ain’t a waste o time and that gives ‘er somethin’ to reflect upon.

Roku had one of those expression on her face that indicates that the person wearin’ it is seriously reconsdierin’ their position. Finally she commented, “Make her work...great idea...”

Dio smiled in response, relieved that she was somehow getting through to her friend.

“But ah still think a spankin’ on top of that shud do wondahs.”

Dio exploded, “HECATE’S BREATH, ROKU!” LOOK...LOOK AT THESE HERE!”

She held up the set o’ boy’s under-drawers she had been working on.

“Goddamit! Feast yer peepers on this badger stripe runnin’ up the backside o “Lonzo’s spare under britches...I'm thinkin’ this task is a gonna be a worse punishment for Carrie Anne than I expected.”

Dio muttered as she tossed the drawers into the pile that was to go in the washtub next, “Holy christ on roller skates, din't this boy ever larn to wipe hisself?”

But Roku was not done yet. “I am so disappointed in Carrie Anne...ah thot for once, heah is a nice lil’ gal, not like Geoff nor Addi...”

Carrie Anne, trying not to cry, was biting down on her lip until it was bleeding. Dio on the other hand was getting a tad exasperated.

“Goddammit, Roku! She IS a nice lil’ gal! She jus’ made a mistake like we all do. An’ at least the slack-jawed lack-wit din't go an’ drown!”

They continued working in silence as Roku watched. Dio dumped out the now muddled gray water from the first loads, and filled the wash tub with fresh hot water from the big copper boiler on the stove. Carrie Anne brought buckets of water from the creek for rinsing out the items that had been washed. Her hands were getting raw and chapped from the lye soap. There were also a couple places she had scalded her hands on the boiler and the stove, and those stung something dreadful.

Finally, Roku broke the silence. “Heah is what ah am goin' to do concernin’ Carrie Anne...ah is goin' to ignore her and she is gonna have to earn my friendship back. Ah nevah been friends befoah with a little girl, but she so dissapointed mah self...”

CarrieAnne was just lugging in another bucket she had filled from the creek, water sloshing on her feet. She stopped, sat it down, and said in a quiet voice, “I'm sorry Roku."

“Bein sorry ain’t cuttin’ it with me, Carrie Anne,” replied Roku. “Ya has to earn back mah friendship...ya needs to learn this is the kinda consequences what happens when ya does somethin’ bad.”

Dio was getting tired of this. “Roku...Hon, it's the first mistake I seen this chile make...I reckon she's gonna make a bunch more b'fore she's got to my age.”

Roku may have picked up on the weary tone in her friend’s voice. She stood and headed for the door. “Ah is going to walk ovah to the Church to see if Elizabeth is still in theah, prayin’ like ah told her to...see y’all latah. Gots to see if Elizabeth obeyed me or not.”

Dio nodded as she wrung out yet another shirt. “Take care, Roku.”

Carrie Anne regarded the murky used wash water and the thought crossed her mind that running away and being killed by renegades might have been preferable. She did not relish the prospect of doing this again once every week for a month.

Dio carried a basket of damp laundry out to the line and began hanging it to dry. CarrieAnne dragged another basket out, but found she had a small problem.

“Dio...I can't reach to hang 'em

Dio went over to Bu’s and found a wooden box in the kindling pile. She came back and set it on the ground for Carrie Anne to stand on. The girl took an armload of bed linens, hopped on to the box and began hanging things up.

“Dio?”

“Yes Hon?”

“How come...how come you aren’t makin’ me do all this myself? Why are you helping me?”

“Dio sighed as she continued hanging wash at the higher end of the clothesline. “Well...lessee...ye think yer larnin’ something doin’ this?”

“Yes’m”

“Well, Hon, I ‘spect I had some larnin’ to do as well. Still tryin’ to figger out how this livin’ with a chile is ‘sposed to work. I’m responsible fer ye now...an’ so I needed to face up to my responsibility in this fer not ridin herd on ye better. “Sides...you ‘n me...whatever happens, good or bad, or in-betwixt, we’s in it together.”

Carrie Anne noticed that her hands still stung from the scalds and the lye soap. She rubbed them on her damp dress.

“Go rinse them hands off in the crik, Hon,” suggested Dio. When the girl did so and returned, Dio handed her a clean dry towel.

“Thank you.” said Carrie Anne quietly.

“That's all right, Hon.

Carrie Anne looked down at her feet and wondered what Elizabeth was doing. Dio was pulling her waistcoat and jacket back on, and then she buckled on her pistol belt. Once she was fully reassembled she gently put a hand on Carrie Anne's shoulder.

“Carrie Anne, when ye make a mistake from now on, I want ye to come to me about it...face up to it, like a Kuhr..like would make Papaw Marcus Aurelius proud to have ye fer a great granddaughter”

Carrie Anne nodded her head slowly, "Yes ma'am. I'll do better, I promise.”

Dio looked satisfied with this assurance. “I trust that ye will. Allright now, go find ‘Lizabeth an’ tell her that yer supposed to bop her if'n she does somethin’ stupid like this again in future...an’ also tell her that I am givin’ her leave to do the same to you if'n yer the one who comes up with some boneheaded ideer.”

Carrie Anne finally smiled back a little. “Yes’m. I'll tell 'er.

Dio peered into the little girl’s eyes. “You ok now?”

CarrieAnne Dubrovna nodded her head and answered quietly "Yes’m"

“You understand that jus cuz you made a mistake, I ain't a gonna turn you out?” asked Dio gently.

To be honest, Carrie Anne still didn’t believe this was true, but she nodded her head in agreement anyway. "Yes, I know"

They moved out onto the porch and Dio closed the door to the laundry. Without looking at Carrie Anne, she added in a surprisingly soft voice, “You also understand that even when yer makin’ a mistake--I am still gonna love ye? An’ I hope when I make my share, yer still gonna ...well never mind...I think we understand each other.

Carrie Anne could tell that Dio’s mind was somewhere else right now...she suspected that Dio had gone back to west central Texas, to her parents’ place on the edge of the Comancheria. She didn’t know all the details, but she was aware that something had happened between Dio and her folks back when she was little, that somehow, they had blamed her for something...that they had stopped caring about her...but Carrie Anne said nothing. She only nodded her head and forced a little smile.

Dio was smiling as well, but it was a strangely sad smile. “Now ye go find ‘Lizabeth, ye hear?”

After Carrie Anne had run off down China Row, Dio decided to head over to the Gem. Kit and Clay and Sparrow and some other folks were hangin’ around, and it made Dio feel better to be not be alone right now. Clay got her some coffee, and they were all goin’ on at some length about Alonzo and his unexpected dip in the Whitewood. A preponderance of the wittier comments seemed to be at Alonzo’s expense.

Dio explained about the nature of the punishment she given Carrie Anne, and most of the folks seemed to think it was pretty good way of handling things. Most of them also got something of a chuckle out of the notion that Roku, of all people, had directed Elizabeth to the church to pray for enlightenment and forgiveness.

Suddenly they heard the pounding of small boots and shouting.

“DIO! DIO, Please! Come quick!”

They all turned to see Carrie Anne at the doorway to the Gem, her dress and stockings wet and smeared with mud.

“Hon! what is it? What's wrong?!” asked Dio in alarm.

“OH Dio! I saw Elizabeth throw herself into the swollen creek! And Miss Roku had to jump in to get her...and I had to toss her a rope so they could get back out, and...oh Dio, it was terrible....”

~~~

A Deadwood story -- is that any way to raise a child? part 3

~~~

So the two girls, they took off down the street, and lo and behold, who did they see up ahead, but none other than Sheriff Kanto--and he was lookin’ a mite soggy and more than a mite irritated. O’ course, they run and hid in one o’ their favorite hidin’ places, over at Mr. Sorrowman place. You remember Eugene Sorrowman, don’t you? He’s the undertaker. The girls actually laid in some coffins and pulled the lids shut after ‘em. Yep...they was more scared o’ havin’ to talk to JF’ than they was o’ laying inside a pine box with the lid closed.

Meanwhile, Dio happened to stop by at the Gem , partly to get a cuppa joe, and partly because she wanted to see if Clay had had any luck organizing a work party to dig out the bodies of some miners who had been killed in a mine collapse the day before. Nobody had been real enthusiastic about goin’ into a mine that had a history of collapsing , just to recover some dead fellers who were kinda sorta already buried in a way. But Clay was gonna try, and I’m sure you will recall that Dio had gone and developed a concern for seeing to it that deceased folks got laid to rest properly, so she had an interest in his progress on the issue..

While Dio was having Jemima pour her a cup of good, strong black coffee, Clay came down from his upstairs office.

“Dio, how are ya?” he called out in his usual cheerful manner.

“I'm well enough, Clay. What's goin on tonite?”

Clay frowned slightly. “Not much...had to postpone getting the bodies out of the mine... hey, ya seen Carrie Anne yet?”

“Nope. She ok?”

“Oh yes she's fine,” replied Clay. “However...ah...they pushed that little Alonzo kid in the water an’ he might have drowned...”

Dio looked up, stunned. “Who did this?!”

“Carrie Anne and Elizabeth...”

“When did this happen?”

“Earlier today before I rode into town...”

“Goddamit,” muttered Dio.

Clay gave a little shrug. “Well, Dio, ya know that boy... reckon he was annoyin’ them and they was foolin...”

Dio sighed. “Yeah, I know that the boy is a real goddam annoyance, but that ain't no cause to go an' put him at risk like that.”

"Well we ain't sure he is dead yet...we ain't found a body... just hopeful..."

Just as Dio was trying to figure out if Clay meant that people were hopeful of finding Alonzo alive, or if he meant they were hoping to find a cold, stiff and no longer annoying body, she saw Carrie Anne and Elizabeth go past outside the window. A wave of anger surged in her as they clearly saw her through the smudged and rippled glass, but then they took off down the street.

Dio was about to yell something profane and take off after them, but as she was reaching for the door-handle she heard Clay speak in an uncharacteristically soft voice:

“Jus so ya know...she’s afraid ya’re gonna boot her out.”

Dio stopped dead in her tracks for a moment, looked back at Clay...and feelin’ the anger subside somewhat, she nodded and turned to go out and follow the girls.

She could see them goin’ into the No. 10. As she entered, she could hear the two young’uns. panting, trying to catch their breath. The looked up as she came in and gently closed the door behind her. As she did so, Carrie Anne and Elizabeth backed away from her towards the far wall of the saloon.

Dio’s face was impassive, her voice was quiet. “How come you two see me in the Gem, and rush right on by without so much as a friendly wave, an’ take off runnin’ down here like somethin’ is puttin the fear o hellfire soup an brimstone puddin into yer hearts?”

Elizabeth looked desperate. “There was a man was going to kill us,” she offered in a feeble lil' voice.

Carrie Anne nodded somewhat tentatively. “We...we we're runnin' away from someone, an...”

Dio started to respond, “Lizabeth...I...”

But then she she just looked at the floor and shook her head sadly.

The girls looked at one another...Elizabeth was biting her lip, and Carrie Anne’s eyes had gone all dull an’ hopeless...finally she looked up at Dio and spoke.

“It's a long story, an' Mr Clay says we won't hang for it, but we're worried Mr Kanto might kill us anyways...”

Dio looked perplexed. “You were running away from JF...from Sheriff Kanto?”

Elizabeth could only mumble something about, “at least Mister JF isn’t dead, at least Missus Kanto won’t kill me...”

Realizing that Elizabeth was going to be of little help in this phase of things, Carrie Anne went on, “We were runnin' from Mr Kanto earlier, after we thought we murdered someone...”

Dio’s face still betrayed no emotion. Elizabeth began to hope that perhaps Clay hadn't told Dio anything, and thought maybe Carrie Anne was saying too much...but her friend seemed inclined to continue the explanation.

“We hid in the children's coffins that the undertaker has...”

“The undertaker has A LOT of children-sized coffins, Miss Dio! Did you know that?” Elizabeth added eagerly.

Carrie Anne nodded her head, "it's true.”

Elizabeth decided to run with this new direction for the conversation, hoping that Dio would find it so engaging that she would plumb forget about the rest of the situation. “I always wonder, why are we born if we are just going to die... don't you wonder that Miss Dio?”

The woman in buckskins closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as if her head hurt really, really fuckin’ bad. And then finally after a long pause, she spoke again, in a voice that was low and quiet, but hard as flint in winter.

“Hush up. An’ think real goddam hard before ye say another word. Now, rather than goin' on with anymore clabber about coffins, an Mr. JF an all that cocktwaddle....ye'd best fess up an' tell me what happened.”

Right then, Roku happened to walk in.

“Howdy Dio, howdy girls...”

Carrie Anne vaguely hoped that Dio would get distracted talking with her friend, and would forget about her and Elizabeth. She quickly saw this was a forlorn hope as Dio said without takin’ her eyes off the girls:

“Hello Roku. You might as well listen to this. These two have got somethin’ they need to tell me about.”

Elizabeth blinked a way some tears and then took a gulp and finally blurted out, “It was my fault, I started it, please don't give Carrie away!”

Carrie Anne clutched her friend’s hand, and Elizabeth gripped it tightly, even as she felt a few tears trickle down her cheeks and some snot comin’ out of her nose, which she wiped with the sleeve of her free arm.

Dio sighed. “First off, I ain't gonna let Roku toss ye in the river, and I ain't gonna make Carrie Anne go away...nothin as ill as that...but ye need to stop blowin smoke up m' ass an tell me what truly happened.”

Carrie Anne looked at Elizabeth a moment and then gripped her hand a lil' bit tighter (as if that was even possible). “We pushed Alonzo in the Whitewood creek...and...and he might be dead. Mr. Kanto went to find him...and well we didn’t see them for a while, and we worried Mr. Kanto mighta drowned too...but then we saw him down the street by the bridge, and he was all wet ‘n mad lookin’...so that was why we were hidin’ and runnin’...”

Dio’s expression still had not changed. “Thank ye, Carrie Anne. I appreciate ye tellin’ me straight-up like that.

Roku however, was frowning. “That was a damned wicked thing to do, Carrie Anne!"

Dio did not agree or disagree with Roku’s assessment. Instead she simply stated, “Now is the opportunity for ye to endeavor to tell me why this seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Elizabeth looked at Carrie Anne, and then offered the rationale, “Wellll....Alonzo is a pain and shoves his rat in our faces and follows us everywhere...”

“Yep sounds like ‘Lonzo allright, “ agreed Dio. “But why did ye push the poor lil’ puke in the drink?”

“Well, we were down by the creek,” continued Elizabeth, “and he comes up and then he was just standing there for the longest time saying nothing, just staring and staring at us, and then he turned...So we pushed him a little, I did first and he went a step forward and then...and we...um...just pushed too hard I guess.”

“Mr Clay promised we wouldn’t hang for it,” added Carrie Anne. “He wouldn’t give us any money to run away, though...”

For some reason, Elizabeth decided this would be a good time to expound on that aspect of the adventure:

“No, we were thinking about blowing up the bank but.... “ Her voice trailed off as she realized that this information probably wasn’t improving their bargaining position.

But Dio was not looking at Elizabeth. Her eyes were boring into Carrie Anne.

“Now Hon, runnin’ away ain't somethin’ that a Kuhr does.”

“Dio, I think Elizabeth is a bad influence on Carrie Anne,” said Roku in a harsh tone. “I don’t think Carrie Anne should hang around with her...she is corruptin’ Carrie Anne.”

CarrieAnne and Elizabeth looked at one another in surprise. “I...I never have been in any trouble before,” said Elizabeth in a weak lil’ voice. She blinked away some fresh tears, and Carrie Anne patted her friend on the back. Elizabeth was sobbing harder and moaned, “This is the first bad thing I ever did and now I can't even have a friend!”

Carrie Anne whispered, “'It's ok, I been beat lots, I’ll tell Mr. Kanto it was all my doin'..."

But Elizabeth just sobbed even harder, “I said it was my fault! I SAID IT!”

Dio looked at Elizabeth for a moment or two, and although she did not visibly show it, she was considerably moved by the intensity and sincerity of the child’s anguish. "Roku,” she said quietly, “It sounds to me like both these gals made some bad choices...I don’t think tis fair to say one was a bad influence on the other. I’m thinkin’ they both need to be accepting’ the consequences of what they have done, but I don’t think sayin’ they can’t be friends cuz o’ this makes much sense.”

Roku shrugged. “Well, ah warned Carrie Anne to be good or ah would drop her in the crik--ya don’t be pushin’ folks in a rushin’ stream like that. Carrie Anne. ah knows ya knows bettah than that. This is some serious shit, Dio.”

“I pretty much agree with ye there,” answered Dio, even though in the back of her mind she was wondering if the girls would find it oddly inconsistent that Roku would threaten to toss them in the creek for doing something like pushing someone into that same creek. Nonetheless, she went on. “But I think they both shoulda known better. Did either o’ ye stop to think that dirt-eatin clotpoll 'Lonzo don’t know how to swim? Don’t ye know that just the other night that feckless, lackwit chile fell in the drink all on his own, without no one propellin’ him thus, an’ Mr. Seth had to jump in an’ fish him out?”

Elizabeth, her body still heaving with silent sobs, looked up:

“N..n..n..ooo....”

Carrie Anne looked glumly at her hands and said softly, “No, ma'am. I didn't know." She was starting to wish they would just beat her and get it over with.

“Ah don’t thinks these little urchins know how much troubles they is in,” snarled Roku.

Dio sighed. “I reckon I could beat the tar outta both of ye....but like Carrie Anne says, she's been thru' that b'fore, an’ I ain’t sure it accomplishes much other than makin' a lotta noise. An’ I could let Roku toss y'all in the crik, but knowin’ Roku and knowin’ you young’uns, it would probbly jus’ somehow end up bein’ fun fer y'all...”

Roku folder her arms across her formidable chest and glared at Carrie Anne. “Well, mebbe ah ain’t in any mood to be tossin’ anyone in the crik. Ah am just soooo disappointed in you, Carrie Anne.”

Carrie Anne had been trying very, very hard to not cry, but now she felt a tear slip down her face. “I'm sorry Miss Roku."

“I do believe,” said Dio, “that Roku has hit the goddam nail on its flat lil ol head...she is disappointed in ye...an’ dammit, I'm disappointed in ye both as well. I mean, Christ’s bootlaces, gals, I'd expect this kind o’ dirt-eatin’ stupid-ass tomfoolery from the likes o’ that lil peckerhead in petticoats, Addi...but goddammit, I expected better from you two.”

At first, Carrie Anne was surprised that the entire time Dio was speaking, she did not raise her voice. She did not wave her arms around or make a huge scene like some adults would have done. But the more Dio went on in that hard and even tone, the worse it felt. Carrie Anne dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands trying to keep herself focused on the words, thinking to herself, “whatever you do, don't cry...”

And she didn’t cry. But she did suddenly bolt for the door and dash out into the street.

“Carrie Anne, come back heah now!!!” shouted Roku.

Right then, even as they were staring in the direction in which Carrie Anne had just disappeared, Clay came strolling into the saloon.

“Hey Dio, howdy Roku! Say I got some good news for ya...well, sorta good from a certain point o’ view, I reckon. They found that little shithead Alonzo, wanderin’ along Sherman Street, drippin wet with his soggy pet rat and all...no worse for wear!”

Dio breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank ye Clay, I am greatly appreciative o’ that intelligence. I am vastly relieved to hear that. Now Elizabeth, where is yer Aunt Marrant? Is she about?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No ma’am. She has gone to Gayville, running some errands with Mrs. Kanto.”

“Very well,” said Dio. “Roku, I ain't sure what to do about ‘Lizabeth..she ain't my responsibility--it’ll be up to her Aunt to decide her punishment...but in the meantime, I would be greatly obliged if’n ye would keep an eye on her fer the time bein’....I have to go find Carrie Anne.”

As she started to leave, Elizabeth spoke up. “Miss Dio?”

Yes, Elizabeth?”

“I am very sorry and want you to know I never did anything like this before.”

“Well, chile, sorry is a place to start. But you will do what Miz Roku says, cuz now I needs to go find Carrie Anne.”

Elizabeth stared at her feet. “She's hiding because she's afraid you'll make her leave.”

Dio nodded. She had heard that before.

Roku pointed at the door. “Well go on! You go find her! If Elizabeth moves, ah will probably shoot her.”

Ignoring Elizabeth’s horrified expression, Dio went out into the street. She asked a few people along Main if they had seen a small, blond-haired girl running by, but no one had. Even so, Dio had a pretty good idea where to find her.

In addition to working as a security man for Clay at the Gem, Silver also ran a livery stable on the edge of town--in fact he lived in the loft over the stable. Knowing that Carrie Anne was fond of Silver and the horses, Dio figured it would be a good place to start in her search. Sure enough, it proved to be a good place to end the search as well, because Dio found the girl up in the loft, crouched behind Silver's bunk.

Carrie Anne looked up in fear as Dio cleared her throat.

“Carrie Anne,” said Dio in the same flat, serious tone she had used before, “what did I tell ye about bein' a Kuhr?”

The girl blinked for a moment, surprised that she was not being yelled at or thrashed. Then she answered simply, “you don't run away...”

Dio shook her head. “No Hon. Ye don't have it quite right. It's that WE don’t run away. We make mistakes. Bein’ a Kuhr ain't about bein’ perfect. But we face the consequences o’ what we have done.”

The significance of Dio’s emphasis on the word “we” was starting to sink in with Carrie Anne. “Yes'm. You know, we weren’t tryin' to hurt Alonzo...”

For the first time in a while, Dio smiled. “Well ye managed not to, Hon. Right after ye ran out, Mr. Clay came along an’ informed us that ‘Lonzo seems to have fished hisself outta the crik with no major damage done...him an’ that mangy rat o’ his are in good condition. The ridiculous mud-eatin’ puke might not be able to swim, but apparently he can float just fine.”

Carrie Anne smiled slightly, glad that they hadn’t in fact murdered Alonzo...at the same time she suddenly felt some small irritation as she realized that he would still be around, annoying her and Elizabeth.

But Dio was not done discussing things yet. “Look Hon, lord knows I made more mistakes than I made o’ good choices. But one thing I know I have done what wasn't no mistake was askin’ ye to come be famly with me. Yeah, ye made a boneheaded, ill-thought-out mistake...but hell’s britches, I reckon that makes ye more like a member o’ my famly than most other things. Just remember above all, when we makes mistakes we face up to it an’ take our lumps. Comprenday?”

“Yes'm.”

Dio straightened up and looked around the loft. “Ye know what I like about Mr. Silver's stable here?”

“What?”

“Settin’ on the edge o’ the loft door an lookin’ out at Deadwood crik. Come on, Hon.”

Dio swung open the big loft door and they sat on the edge, their legs dangling out into space, watching the fast-running creek, swollen with the recent rains.

After a spell, Dio looked at the girl next to her. “Yer sorry about what ye did, ain’t ye?

“Yes, Dio.”

“What do ye think I oughtta do to be makin sure ye don't do this kinda thing agin?”

“You can lock me in a cellar.”

“I ain't got a cellar...an’ b‘sides, what would that teach ye?”

“Oh, that's what my pa always did when I was bad. It taught me to be afraid of the dark

“Well, I ain't yer Dad, an’ bein’ afraid o’ the dark ain't nothin’ useful...they's a lot o’ important shit that folks gotta do in the dark. An’ like I said before, I ain't a gonna hit ye. It jus’ don’t set well with me to be hittin’ someone who is a lot smaller than I am.

“I don't know then...I don't know what you should do.”

“Well, Hon we jus’ gotta make sure tis somethin’ useful an’ educational...and oh, by the way, I want ye to keep bein' friends with 'Lizabeth...ye kin keep seein' her...but you have to give me a promise...”

Carrie Anne nodded. “What do you want me to promise?”

Dio grinned a little grin. “When the chile is about to do somethin’ that you know ain't right...ye gotta tell her to knock it off. An’ if’n she persists, ye have m' leave to bop her one. Will ye undertake to do that?”

"Yes’m. I promise"

“Anyhow, another possible punishment I had thought about was maybe you wouldn’t be allowed to ride yer pony fer a few weeks or so...but if yer on the path to bein a true Kuhr, ye'll probbly jus’ sneak off to do it, an’ I ain't a gonna put ye in that position.” Dio laughed a little, obviously thinking about somethin’ from her own childhood.

Then she got serious again. “No Hon, what I am a gonna do is that once a week fer the next month, yer gonna get all the linens an dirty clothes from the orphanage an’ take em to the laundry an’ give all a scrubbin’...an whilst yer scrubbin the stuff from the orphanage, I want ye to be thinkin’ about the young’uns who was last usin’ em--especially Alonzo, an’ how he ain't got no one. Cuz ye know, mebbe that's one o’ the reasons why he acts in the irritatin' fashion what he does: bein’ without kin or anyone to care about him.

Carrie Anne wrinkled her nose, knowing how grubby the linens would be...and then she frowned feeling bad for Alonzo.

“Ye know how to do proper washin’ with hot water an' lye soap an' all?” asked Dio.

“Yes’m. I always did the laundry, as soon as I was old enough.”

“Yep me too...was the only woman thing m' ma ever taught me about.”

“I should go get started," said Carrie Anne.

“Yep, let's go.”

~~~