Ch. 4 '"Anything Goes"'

'"Anything Goes"'
It was early Sunday a.m. or late Saturday night, however you want to see it, as a Party of Four in a Coach-and-Two, passed 'neath redwood and pine and a nightsky brilliant with iceripe stars and moonstripe shadows down the road en route to the dark bowl of a valley below.
Emmeline listened with half an ear to Jack's explanations of
peer pressure, wanting to be accepted by Em's friends and oh what the heck... he soon gave up:
'Em...it was all an act.' Jack appeared as though he'd been caught holding a sacred relic of Solomon's temple. Still stoically staring downwards, he admitted,'We thought it best to be seen celebrating Dionysian delights than... something altogether other .'
The cart rattled down the hill aways, whilst Emmeline stared hard at Jack.
'...Oh no. He didn't...' Em frowned his way.
'What?'
'Jethro.' Em sighed, sat back and frowned at the night.
Jack figured Emmeline, being local, probably knew what was up in them thar hills...
Em sighed.Again. Hard.
'What!!??' Jack insisted.
'You KNOW what, Jack Van Horn!' Em sat up, grasping onto the cart which clattered down the mountainside, Leon and Ernestine silent and curious up front...'Just tell me that you won't go bat-bombing with Jethro and Homer!'
'...Homer and Jethro,'Jack insisted. Again.
Em raised brows rather librarianish in a 'I Do Not Believe This' sort of way.
'Ok, ok,' Jack took her hand. 'It's cold!' He rubbed it with his big gloved one. 'Better...?'
Em nodded. Not smiling.
'Emmeline! You don't seriously think there's any danger in
their backyard experiments!'
Em' s face went completely blank and she turned to face the road ahead.Alone. Yet another mad fool...
'Em...'Jack draped his cape about her back and enclosed them in his tweedy cocoon.'I'll keep an eye on THEM, ok? I'll be the voice of reason...'
Emmeline gazed at Jack as though he had suddenly appeared leprechanlike before her, perhaps foaming at the mouth and
scratching himself to boot.
Leon and Ernestine  smiled  1/4 moons at one another, listening to the banter behind them as the cart moved on down the hillside...They were coming down into the valley now and the odd palm made it's reappearance, a  sentinel sillouetted against cobalt infinity.
'We'll all be home soon...' Jack craned a glance around at Emmeline. 'It was great fun, Em. Thank you.'
Emmeline sighed.
'Oh, Em, come on!' Jack was exasperated. He'd only tried his darndest to fit in, do his part in the evenings' festivities....
'Jack.'Em looked ahead again, at that all familiar lonesome road. 'I forbid you to take part in Jethro and Homers' experiments! That's all there is to it!'
Jack opened his mouth wide, incredulousness flowing from every pore then.
'Ha!' he couldn't believe it. 'Em! You! You are ordering me, then, eh?'
Em just felt weary . 'Jack. Why would I wish to save you from bodily harm at the least and a nasty demise at worst?
Hmmm...let me think...' she pondered but briefly. 'At the moment, I can't really see clearly why I should bother.'
As they continued on down, the lights of town glowed in the distance ahead.
'It IS a small town, Jack.' Em just looked tired, and rather wistful. 'Did you truly think I didn't know Jethro and Homer, or their...various enterprises?' She shook her head slowly.'I went to school with Jethro.'
'Indeed?' Jack hadn't thought about it, but he now realized he should not be surprised.
'He was a year ahead of me. But...' Em looked down at the floorboards, then laughed quietly. 'As much as I cultivated an outlaw, loner image,,,the lads who held my eye had brains above all...and Jethro always engineered the most intriguing and innovative science projects;not to mention,the most explosive...'
'Batbombing one's way into a young girls' fancy...'This truth, Jack certainly understood. Although he realized as the cart rounded the many bends in the road, that it hadn't perhaps all been an act so far as inhabiting a rather applejack enhanced reality at present...'Understood.' Jack nodded, weaving abit.
Emmeline took his arm then. Oh, that Jethro! And Homer, who was like an uncle to him, should know better! Obviously, they've only expanded operations...Em would be having a little talk with her old pal Jethro. Soon.
'Em...'Jack ventured, quietly,'did you ever think that maybe,  you liked men like your father? Inventors and such?'
'No!' Em was insistent. 'Just the opposite! My father was cold and aloof. He certainly never encouraged either of his daughters to cultivate her brain! Amelie and myself were raised as pets, rather. He simply felt that we would no doubt 'make a good match' somehow, and settle into the usual familial situation...'Em now looked more than weary. 'Jethro has a sense of humor at least!' she smiled and shut her eyes as the cart swayed homeward.
'I don't know Em...perhaps you are more like the professor than you'd admit.'
Em merely yawned behind her glove, as they slowed to a walk now nearing city streets and cultivated tree-lined avenues....here they were, home again, nearly.
Ernestina turned around, looking meaningfully at Emmeline,  then nodded to Jack. 'Thank you for coming Jack. And it was such fun for Marta, Emmeline!' Her smile was returned by Em.
'Now! We will see much of you both, soon, no?'
'Yes, indeed!' and 'We'll see,' replied Jack and Em respectively as the carriage turned down Crowley Lane at last.
As they pulled up before the old house, Jack turned to Emmeline. 'It's been a wonderful evening Em.' He reached behind him and grabbed his guitar case, then took Emmeline's
chin in hand and turning her toward him, gave her a friendly kiss on the old smackeroo, just as playful as you please.
And it came to pass quickly and smoothly so it did and took Em quite by surprise,
'Gracias Leon, Miss Ernestine!' Jack took guitar case in hand, swung down from the cart and made a bow.'May we soon meet again! Oh, and Em,'Jack leaned toward her, keeping his voice low,'whenever you feel ill-disposed toward my untoward maneuverings at times, think of how I might be feeling now, regarding your concern over my safety and...'He paused, rubbing his chin in thought,'Forbidding, was it? Yes, "forbidding!",I believe,my further involvement with the bat-bomb business, am I right, Em?' He grinned up at her in the pale moonlight.'Forbidding, no less! I love it when you are masterful, darling!' Jack winked at an astonished Emmeline and took his leave up onto the veranda of the old haunted manse he called home.
'Well!'Em exclaimed.
                          . . . . .
Sunday afternoon found Emmeline slowly strolling home from her matinee gig at Pankhurst Inn playing for the luncheon
crowd and carrying cash-in-hand in her reticule, along with a doggy-bag in payment--'singing for my supper now!' she
mused, as she opened the sack and sniffed appreciatively, smiling to find several poppyseed rolls and a hunk of jack cheese which would go together nicely for her own repast.
She yawned then as she approached Alice's, although she had risen rather late (and just in time to make her gig!),having barely beaten the dawn coming home last night...she could still use a nap, she decided.
Mac and Frida had rushed to the gate wuffing and wagging their welcome as she neared.'Inside you two! Let us all have a nice quiet Sunday afternoon, yes?'She couldn't hope for anything more.
Inside, and having paused for a bite of cheese and roll, Em chewed thoughtfully as she looked down at Alices' bed which was positioned just right for catching afternoon sun in winter.
 Spreading the tartan plaid at the foot of the bed, she patted it and Mac and Frida sprang up and settled down against each other, a perfect yin/yang match together, of dark and light.
Em tossed her slippers off and took a book to lie down and read herself to sleep with, but lying there, her thoughts would drift from the page and she found herself gazing outside at the bare winter limbs of the backyard trees, now sporting the suggestion of buds, and thinking of last evening and the varied flashes of memories of the night before; some strange, some happy, some funny, and she had to admit, most were of Jack in one scene or another...she smiled and shook her head slowly, watching Mac watch her with his one eye lazily open still, shaded by his black brush of eyebrows...yes, she had to admit, that Jack had certainly made an impression upon folks. She recalled his climbing from the stage and dancing with young Marquita in her braids with red bows and how the little girl had blushed happily, and when he moved on to take a spin with old Ma Clampett, well that won everyone over right there.
...Almost everyone, Em reminded herself...ole J.George Bush Jr. wasn't having any Jack for any money, obviously. What was it about Jack that had irritated the lil' goofball so?, she wondered...and what was all that crazy business of calling Jack a gypsy?
Mac snuffled and hid his nose against Frida, inhaling and sighing then and snuggling into a contented furball, revelling in her scent. Emmeline recalled then how the evening had ended, and humphed to herself...say what he would, Mr. Van Horn was certainly not entirely sober then!, she soliloquized. Surely that jack was to blame for his rather impertinent actions, she decided, too tired to note the play on words. She lay her head down on the pillow then and wondered about all that...what sort of kiss was that, anyway? Like the kind young Jethro had stolen from her when they were kids maybe Marquita's age, back then.I'm hardly 7 years old now, Jack...wuf! Men!...she thought, and then at last, thoughts came and went like dandelion fluff in the wind and she joined her canine companeros in a dream-laden journey into the realm of Morpheus...
                          . . . . .
It was just sunset as Emmeline awoke, cold, to the sound of knocking and realized Mac and Frida had  exited the bedroom and were wuffing fixedly at the front door. What, now? She
was slowly waking from a deep and dazed dream, feet seeking slippers as she ran a hand through her hair and drinking from her water glass hard by, tried to awaken into some semblance of consciousness...
This, she had more or less succeeded in, yet upon reaching the door, she seemed rather amazed still to behold Mr. Yeats standing there, bearing a sack before him. 'Miss Page! You didn't know I was coming, so I baked a cake!' His lips formed an almost-smile. 'Good evening. Have I come at an inconvenient Time?'
She recovered herself then, and smiled. 'Not at all, sir!' She stood aside and swept an arm before her. 'Do come in!--and Macky--take Frida outside with you both!'
Taking Mr. Yeats's hat and coat, and cake!, she invited him into the kitchen, as it seemed all of her memories of being with this worthy gent always took place in that homey setting and was the proper place for them. 'I'll just start some tea.And what have we here then?'
'Oh, just a little spice cake I whipped up. With a wee dash of rum, I admit,'
'Lovely! Thank you!'Em gestured to the breakfast nook, 'Do have a seat, Mr. Yeats, please...'And stoking the fire, Em got the tea things ready thinking what a weekend of surprises this had turned out to be!
                           . . . .
Seated together at the little wooden blue table, Em handed the knife to Yeats. 'Would you do the honors, while I pour?'
Inhaling the hot Earl Grey, Em felt her spirits reviving abit and had to admit to feeling rather peckish as she eyed her slice of spice cake, dark with molasses and redolent of ginger and nutmeg.
The two companions sipped their tea contentedly as they watched the sunset from the kitchen window. 'You make the best spice cake!' Emmeline granted him. 'Just don't tell Alice I said so!'
Yeats set his teacup down in the saucer. 'Indeed. It is with news of that good lady that I have come to you tonight and beat so brazenly upon your door, my dear.' He looked up at her over the table, his tufted eyebrows reminding her of MacGregor then. 'I can assume that it is safe to talk here?'
My goodness! Curiouser and curiouser! thought Em. 'Oh, yes, safe as anywhere! Oh, Mr. Yeats--have you news of Alice, and Frank?' Despite her eagerness, she still kept her voice barely above a whisper.
'I do.' Yeats sat back against the bench seat. 'Alice wishes to see you, Emmeline.'He gazed at her with serious mien. 'And soon!'
                            . . . .
'May I just say before this record spins to a close...I just want you to know...Anything Goes...!'

Ch.3 Banjos, Bats, Biscuits & Bull

Ch.3 Banjos, Bats, Biscuits & Bull
Yeats chewed his biscuit methodically by the fire. Al and Jack waited, not so patiently.
'Good biscuit.' he said at last.
'Yeats, old man...please!'Al couldn't stand it anymore.
Yeats moved to the armchair across from them, and sighed heavily as he sat. He looked older to them suddenly; they noted rather a difference from his jaunty departure only weeks ago...
'Everyone is safe. Secure.' He nailed them with a look. 'That's enough for now. The less you know, the better for them, and for you.' He stretched his legs out and crossed them before him.
'That we can accept. But, what of Flubber?' Aleister was leaning forward now, rather a bristling look about himself for a change.
'What of him?' Yeats said dismissively.
Aleister reared back, hands upon his knees, chin tucked in like a bull about to charge. Jack noted this and said, 'Well, it's just that, you must admit, we've had reason to wonder about his recent involvment in things. Sir.' He added, wisely.
'Yesss...John...' Yeats breathed out, 'John is a wild card, admittedly. Much like the two of you!' He glanced their way.
'Sometimes...a wild card can tip a hand in one's favor. Like the Jack of Hearts.' He added enigmatically, staring again at the fire and drumming his fingers slowly...
Jack and Al looked at one another. Jack shrugged. 'Well, I'm off to bed, then! There's plenty of work to do here, now that I'm off work!' Jack sighed, giving Al a meaningful look.
'Been a long day, for me as well.'Al stood and followed Jack to the stairway. They both stopped a moment, and paused, hands resting on the bannister. 'Good to have you back, sir.' They said, truthfully.
Yeats just nodded, lost in thought.
                         . . . . .
The sun seemed to be heading lower rather quickly thought Jack...well I suppose that's what happens when you get to bed late and then arise late the next day...
Jack had just finished washing up after a day of clearing out the third floor of the house. He'd decided since Em was so all-fired enamoured of the turret rooms, he'd start a little preliminary work on the Indigo Room, as she called it.
He'd just shaved and was drying his hair, when he thought he heard hoofbeats coming up the drive. Flinging the towel around his shoulders, clad only in pants and braces,  he headed out on the porch.
Imagine his surprise to see a pair of black Andalusians round the corner bearing a cart with Emmeline and Ernestine with a gent Jack took to be Leon, Tina's brother driving.
Jack raised a hand in greeting. 'Well, now, Emmeline!' He inclined his head to Tina and Leon. 'How'do.'
'Jack!'Em piped up brightly. 'My friends, Ernestine and Leon Guevara,please meet my dear friend, Jack Van Horn! Rather more properly, this time,'she added, thinking of the last time they were there, after Lev's jailbreak.
Jack and Leon shook hands and he nodded to Tina, 'Miss Tina. Would you all care to come inside and...' Jack looked abit at loose ends, realizing he was 1/2 dressed, suddenly.
'Oh, Jack!' Em laughed lightly, 'You didn't forget the hoe-down tonight!'
He had.'No, not at all!' he lied quickly, 'I'm just washing up! I'll  throw some shoes and a shirt on, and we're on our way?' he asked, just to be sure.
'No hurry, Jack,'Leon assured him. 'Although it is up in the hills aways. Gets dark early there...'
Jack nodded and held up one finger, as he trotted back up the porch and inside,'Be right out!'
Tina glanced back at Em who had moved to the rear meanwhile.'Not bad, Em. Not bad at all!'She had been eyeing Jack's admirable
physique in all its' de-shirted glory.
'Tina!'Em's cheeks flamed, matching the sunset.
Jack appeared moments later, suited up for the evening in his blue serge, and carrying what looked like a guitar case,he swung himself up beside Emmeline in the back seat. 'I see you're ready for action, then, Jack!' she appraised him approvingly.
'Ah, well, you know, just in case!' he winked...'S'been awhile...'
'Thank you, Jack,' Em said.
'Hmm?'
'You know, for last night...I'm sorry I'd fallen asleep like that...it had been a long day, on top of a long week,'Em bit her lip, embarrassed.
'Oh, you know...it happens. I just made it home before dropping off myself! And guess who showed up, Em?--Yeats!'
To the excited exclamations and questions of Em and the Guevara's,Jack told them all he knew, which wasn't much. But it did quiet Em's anxiety level somewhat, just to have the assurrance of everyone's safety at last.
On they traveled, chatting about sundry topics, heading upwards into the woods.  It became hilly and the lane swerved around curves, switching this way and that. The  pastureland with occasional oak trees soon became rugged with manzanita and  pines. As the pine trees and redwoods became more numerous, the light dimmed and a cobalt blue sky showed navy about the edges as twilight crept in. Crickets and the occasional bullfrog's croak were heard accompanying the horses' plodding steps upward. Jack helped Emmeline slip her winter coat about her as nightfall settled on the Sierra foothills.
Soon, however, they thought they could detect sounds of more human origin and low strains of music on the wind. 'We must be getting close, now, Em!' Jack had gotten his second wind , with the cool of the evening refreshing his spirits anew.
Leon smiled and glanced back. 'Just around that next bend in the road!' he confirmed. And indeed, as they rounded the corner, the party came upon a hollow, a small valley really, nestled among the mountainside, with a creek flowing merrily throughout. Buckboards and wagons, mules and horses milled about the corrals and folks were gathering around a huge bonfire behind the house where long tables set round with benches bore evidence of a variety of potluck comestibles, including several pies Jack took note of, along with many jugs with mysterious contents...best make a wide berth around those, he told himself.
The night seemed to be settled in this one valley, at least it appeared darker here and the stars brighter and closer, against the light of the bonfire and the lanterns strewn among the trees. Music wafted along from the huge red barn aways from the
dining tables and Jack could make out several fiddles and guitars, banjos, and at least one mandolin...perhaps even a dulcimer. He grinned at Emmeline who smiled back, as he took his guitar and helped her from the cart. 'Welcome to our humble hoe-down, Massachusettes!' she said.
Jack helped Leon unhitch the horses as they would be there awhile. Jack ran his hands over their glossy black hides, admiringly. 'Beautiful pair,' he said appreciatively. Leon smiled. 'My beauties, my pride and joy!' As they each led a horse off to the corrals, Em and Tina unpacked their baskets from the cart and carried their offerings to the groaning boards,  greeting folk, catching up on news and stepping around the chickens and children running about the yard.
'It's wonderful that Alice and Lev are safely out of town and in a good place, Em, no?' Tina asked as they set out their casseroles and breads.'I have some good news for you as well! Guess who is here tonight? My momi, Marta! And she has brought some special herbs and elixers for you, too, especially!'
Em was delighted.'Oh, Tina! How marvellous! She is back from Oaxaca!?'
Tina nodded. 'She's probably in the house. Come on! The men can catch up with us later, no?' Em agreed enthusiastically as they headed off to the big red farm house with the large white veranda enclosing two sides, hospitably set with wicker chairs,settees and tables where groups were gathered, chatting amiably and sipping ice teas, old folks rocking in rockers, mothers soothing babies to sleep...
                              . . . . .
Not having had time to partake of dinner as yet, with Leon's help, Jack quickly found himself amongst the fried chicken, black-eyed peas, tamales, goulash, potatoes au gratin and 10 other ways, and of course, 'Sourdough biscuits!' he exclaimed, having a jones already from Friday night, so long ago now...he had moved onto sweet potato pie when he began to wonder where Emmeline had gone to.
'Oh, a man with an appetite! How novel!' a strange voice that cut like a whip sounded suddenly at his shoulder.
'Yes, ma'am, ah, miss!' Jack hastily swallowed the last of his pie, wiping his mouth w/a checked napkin. 'Hadn't eaten dinner as yet this evening.'He quickly took stock of the situation, wondering again of Em's whereabouts.' Jack Van Horn, and...?'
'This is my daughter,Ayn ' suddenly a formidable woman loomed behind said offspring; wearing acres of some flowered cotton dress yet looking enough like the daughter that Jack didn't doubt her words. Here indeed,the future looked grim. 'Ayn Rand. I'm Mrs. Rand.'
Jack looked around him. Where the hell was Leon?
And then, behind him--'Jack! Grab your guitar! We're cookin' muchacho!' Leon at last! There IS a goddess, thought Jack as he nodded briefly to the Rand trap and made his escape...
                                . . . . .
Jack stepped into the barn as if into another world: it was a miniature Grand Ole Opry, he thought...as they were greeted by a wall of sound echoing with stomping feet, clapping hands, whoops and hollers, all amplified nicely in the great,cavernous barn, but mostly with some of the finest guitar and banjo pickin', fiddle faddlin' and singing west of Ole Miss...
A wide grin splitting his face, he followed Leon up to the makeshift stage as his new amigo waved and greeted others, encluding not a few lovely senoritas, Jack noticed. He bet that they wouldn't fall asleep on him...where the heck was Em?
The last song ended and soon Jack didn't even care, as a lone fiddle player took the stand and launched into a mix to beat the band sounding like a goulash of Orange Blossom Special, Black Mountain Rag, Wabash Cannonball, and Tennessee Stud as played by some fella who knew more about music when he was still in the womb perhaps,than did Jack.He shook his head, his grin turning to awe. He was waaay outof his league here,Jack realized! He'd have to come up with something different, for sure...
After the roar of approval died down, a trio took the stage;  a guitar player, fiddle player and banjo. The guitarist positioned himself far in front of the others and smiled, raising an enquiring eyebrow. He was tall, fair and flashy or so bethought himself. Jack thought he reminded him of Zap Brannigan of Futurama fame, an oldies tv show,based on an even older tv show.
Johnny Guitar proceeded to treat them all to his version of
'When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again', deciding he needed to stroll about the crowd, stopping at each young marriagable maiden to regale her with his mediocre at best rendition.
Strangely, this nearly caused a cat-tussle with a couple of the ladies who were sure his song was meant for her only...
It was at that point that Em appeared at Jack's side at long last.
'Oh, my...I'm sorry Jack I've been gone so long! But not long enough, I see,'she surmised, taking in the situation.
At last, the song ignominiously ended and johnny g.was long gone satisfied at the hornet's nest he'd stirred.

Jack then noticed Leon was onstage with his concertina, motioning him up whilst others filed on bearing fiddles, a bass, a conga type drum, and two more guitars and a banjo. Jack shrugged at Em, who smiled encouragingly as he joined the others.
Everyone tuned up awhile and gave the crowd a chance to get a drink and chat a spell. Jack shook hands with the other musicians and received a warm welcome when they learned he was there with Em and the Guevaras. Still, some couldn't but help rib Jack a little about his easterners'  suit and shoes with the blue tint.
'Nice shoes you got there, city feller,' said the guitar player who spat to the side.
'Yep, real nice shoes.' agreed the mandolin player who, Jack recalled was named Jethro something.
'Thanks, ah...'
'Simpson's the name. Homer Simpson.'They shook hands.
'This here's Jethro Bodine.'
'Jack VAn Horn, pleased to meet you both!' Jack said, noticing that all had suddenly gone quiet except for him.
'Well! Seems we have a new player in town!' The head of the hoe-down and MC for the evening and erstwhile owner of the West Pankhurst Saloon the Leaping Lizard, Mr. Woody Marley declaimed, turning to Jack. 'So!--Jack! May I call you Jack?'
'Just don't call me late for dinner,Woody!' Jack trotted out. (Ba-dum-bum.)
Everyone laughed, thankfully. Everything old is new again, thought Jack, getting an idea.
'Well, now, why don't we let our guest lead us in song, then, shall we?'
Woody led the applause as he stepped off the stage.
'Why thank you, Woody, I'd be honored.' Jack stepped up to the occasion. 'And thank you all, for a fine welcome and fine pie, indeed...' Some whoops seconded that sentiment and Jack turned to the others, 'I'm not sure what key this will be in...'
'Ah, now you just take off there, Jack Be Nimble, we'll catch up right quick!' said Homer, winking at Jethro.
Jack spun around, striking a chord. 'Welll-ll it's: One For the Money!' he jerked his hips and ,ba-dum-bum, the conga player caught on! He slammed another chord: 'Two for the show!' Ba-dum-bam! 'Three to get ready,'he nodded briefly to the others, 'Now go, cat, go!' he launched into full Elvis mode, 'But don't you--step on my blue suede shoes! You can do anything but lay offa my blue suede shoes!' To his relief, the others had caught him like they said they would and were riffing like sombitches...'Blue, blue blue suede shoes...' When he heard some appreciative whoops and hollers, he leapt from the stage and began HIS rounds of the audience, only much differently from johnny guitar...he picked out old ladies to sing to, and young children. He slung his guitar behind him and guided a young 7 year old senorita  in a dance, still singing he moved on to a 70 year old great-grandma, who, still sprightly, made a twirl under his arm before sitting back down, pleased as peaches.
'Well, you can do anything, but lay offa my blue suede shoes!' he jumped back onstage to a round of howls and whistles...'you can burn ma house, steal my car, drink my liquor from an old fruit jar, but oh oh honey lay offa my shoes...'and so it went...ending thankfully Jack thought, with applause.
'Well, now that wasn't so bad, there, old son!' Homer nodded to him. 'You got any thing else you might pull outa your ole f-hole there?' He and Jethro laughed, Jack joined in. 'Maybe. You feel up to it?'
'Hell, yes.'Homer reached behind him, and offered Jack the jug.
Holy moley, thought Jack, not again! Now is not the time to be inhospitable, though... Gamely, Jack took the proffered ceramic.
Hm. Rocket fuel, no doubt, he thought. Taking a cautious sip, he was pleasantly surprised. He took another pull.
'Jack likes the jack, apparently,'Jethro said, approvingly.
'Apple brandy! Damn good, too!' Jack handed back the jug, noting that the audience was stomping feet, clapping and generally growing rather restive. 'Ready, boys? A one, two...'he nodded, to them,then turned to the crowd,
'Heeeyyyyy! Get rhythm, when you get the blues! C'mon get rhythm, when you get the blues!'
The hollerin' and cheers went up a notch.
'...Get a rock 'n roll feelin' in your bones, get tappin' your toes, and get goin'
--get rhythm, when you get the blues!'
Jack had 'em!He noticed Emmeline eyeing him with new appreciation,smiling and clapping her hands in time and tappin' her toe before him. Em and all, he thought.
Glad I came...
'C'mon get rhythm, when you get the blues!
Lil'shoeshine boy he never gets low down,
but he's got the dirtiest job in town!
Bendin' low over people's feet on a windy corner of a dirty street. Well, I asked, as he shined my shoes, how'd he keep from gettin the blues? He grinned as he raised his lil' head,
popped his shoeshine rag and then he said,
Get rhythm! When you get the blues...c'mon get rhythm,
when you get the blues!'
                               . . . .
As it grew darker in the hollow, some of the crowd had thinned abit with the late hour,but the barn dance was still lively; just not quite so over-crowded and boisterous now. The music reflected this and slower songs, 'belly-rubbers' and ballads were trotted out to an appreciative audience.
It was then that Emmeline took her turn onstage, accompanied by the maestro fiddler Mr. Stoneman, Homer and Jethro and Jack of course. Em knew that Jack had made such a hit that she'd have to enclude him as frontman.She whispered something in his ear, then turned to the audience: 'This is a little something we'll dedicate to those lonesome Texans in the crowd!' Clapping and hollering greeted that pronouncement favorably and then Em and Jack launched into:
'There's a Yellow Rose of Texas, that I am going to see!
Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me...
She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart,
And if I ever find her, we never more will part!...'
They made a fine duet, and couples swung out onto the floor and commenced dancing...
Not all were pleased with their song, however. 'Johnny Guitar' as Jack bethought him, stood off to the side with some of his cronies chewing on a stick of hay and looking daggers at Jack.
They got into a huddle and seemed to be talking amongst themselves, then.
Emmeline was oblivious to all of this though, so pleased was she that the evening was coming along just fine to her mind...she'd news that Alice and all were safe at last, Jack seemed to be enjoying himself, and, just then she espied Ernestine, Leon and Marta come inside with some other musicians;she recognized the guitar player as one of Lev's comrades.She smiled through her song and nodded at them. It was good to see Marta again. What a treasure trove of herbal lore she was!
The song ended to applause, and whistles, and Jack found his case and put his guitar up, leaving it onstage while he and Em stepped down to take a break at last. The band shuffled members abit and then broke into: 'Grandfather's Clock' in a slow 3/4 time more suited to belly-rubbers.
'Care to dance Em? They're playing our song, after all...' Jack
grinned.
Em laughed, 'Well, I suppose in a way, it is...' she agreed as they began a waltz. 'Time does seem to play a leading part in our lives, of late...'
Jack had his arms around her at last. It felt good, and it felt just right, to him. This is how things should be, he thought...perhaps how they could have been, if he hadn't been so...impulsive, perhaps? Emmeline was not a lady to be rushed into anything, much less ambushed and abducted. Jack sighed, ah, well...'note to self', he thought...
'So, Jack...how do you like our little Pankhurst Playhouse here?' Em smiled up at him.
'It's great, Em! I'm glad you asked me to come. These boys, however,'he nodded to the stage,'have me sorely at a disadvantage, musically! It was generous of them to accept my bluster for actual playing...'
'The crowd loved it Jack!'It was true.'They hadn't heard anything quite like that before! I believe you have a new style.'
'Not so new, Em, really...'Jack admitted, thinking of Grandfather Time.
The waltz ended and new arrivals took the stage as musicians
do-si-do'd around one another and played musical chairs, rearranging themselves. Emmeline excused herself to speak to the Guevaras a moment and Jack stood to the side, watching, eagerly anticipating the next set. It took a moment before he realized he wasn't alone and Johnny Guitar and his boys had sidled up quietly alongside.
'So what's a Gypsy Davey like yourself doin' singing songs about Texas, anyway?' Johnny spat at Jack's feet in punctuation.
'Excuse me?' Jack was taken by surprise. This was the first anti-social experience he'd had here tonight and he wasn't expecting it, and certainly wasn't in the mood for it.
'You heard me, gypsy!' Johnny accented the last word as if it had special meaning for Jack. 'Why boys,' he turned to his cronies, 'I wouldn't be at'all surprised to find a knife in his sock, eh? Maybe we oughta just check here...'
'Maybe you boys oughta just skedaddle on home, quiet-like now,'Woody Marley had been keeping an eye on all the action, and owning a saloon,he could smell when a scuffle was brewing, and so had Homer and Jethro and a few others there in a wink to back up Jack. Meanwhile, Emmeline had caught on to the disturbance and she and the Guevaras came to Jack's side then as well.
Seeing he was outnumbered, Johnny spit again,'Ah, hell, this place is gettin' tired anyhow! Let's go, boys!' He eyed Emmeline hard, then turned to Jack once more. 'She's not for you, gypsy!'
And spitting again for emphasis, turned rabbit and ran.
'What on earth was all that about?' Emmeline asked Jack.'And why did he insist on calling you a gypsy?'
Jack sighed heavily, but said nothing. He did have a dirk in his sock though, having taken a page from Aleister's book. Just in case...
'Well, good riddance to bad rubbish, eh?' Woody clapped Jack on the back, 'Don't let them get to you, Jack! We're not all complete idiots here like those Bush boys...ole J.George there lost the last screw that held his brains in tight...
And say, by the way, anytime you want to play that, whatever it is, rockin and rollin music you cooked up, well bring it on over to the Leapin' Lizard, you hear? I'll book you, you bet!' Jack about half-smiled then. Woody turned to Em,'You also, Miss Emmeline, would be most welcome, if the Pankhurst Inn would let me steal you away! An' you two make a pretty duet together! Think about it!'
So saying, Woody exited, back up stageside.
'Whew!'Em exhaled. 'What a night, indeed!' She put her arm through Jack's though, just so everyone there knew that Jack had their approval overall...and turned to the stage. A mariachi band had set up with some of the 'regulars' who remained sittin' in. 'Oh, Jack, this will be fun. It's Marta's birthday today...the same as my sister Amelie's!' Em sighed. 'I sent a package and letter of course, but we've both been so busy of late...well, that's how it goes I guess...Oh,they're about to begin, here comes Woody.I love horns!'
'Do you, Em? I do too!' Jack was all ears.
'Como estas?' Woody winked and turned to the band. 'Well we have a real treat here tonight! In honor of Senora Guevara's birthday today, Febuary 8th!--' Much applause and cheering was heard then, as that good lady blushed and waved away the to-do, but was smiling thoughout...'--how old are you, honey? I'd guess maybe 35...?' Marta rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her finger at Woody.'Doggone, she's not tellin! Well, she'll just have to promise me the first dance then! Take it away, muchachos!' And as the band played Carabina 30 30, Woody swung himself from the stage and into the Senora's waiting arms...
After Jack himself had a birthday dance with Marta, he sat to rest a spell while Emmeline danced a polka with Leon nearby.
Soon though,Jack felt he wasn't alone, and clued in to find Homer and Jethro hovering hard by, heads nodding to the music, as  they handed him the jug.
'Good stuff, I'll say!' Jack declaimed. 'By the way, I thought this was supposed to be a barn-raising hoe-down! This here barn looks plenty old though, in great shape! '
Jethro and Homer exchanged knowing glances. 'That it is, Jack-Shoes! Wonderful acoustics, no?' Jack nodded. 'Ah, well, it's like this...we did have a raisin' of sorts, but, it isn't this particular barn, see...'
Jethro picked up where Homer left off,'It's...sortof back behind the barn.' He winked.
They both looked at Jack, all innocent smiles. 'Would you care to see it?' Homer asked.
'Well, since it's you two asking, don't mind if I do,' Jack consented thinking that he wouldn't go behind the barn with just anybody...he caught Em's eye as she twirled around and pointed to his new-found friends and gave her the 'just 1 minute!' sign with index finger up. Em smiled and waved him on, as she polka'd away....
                               . . . .
The night was full of stars so bright they nearly hurt your eyes. They seemed closer here in the hills and Jack craned his neck to view the river of the Milky Way and searched for Orion and the waning view of the Pleiades. The night sky in winter was the best for star-gazing in this neck of the world thought Jack as he inhaled the crisp night air that smelled of fresh starlight to him, following behind the two men ahead.
It was actually rather a ways behind the barn when he noticed they were heading to a rough building made of wood, but with tin roof and sides which sandwiched the wood in-between. He wasn't surprised when Homer unlocked the padlock on the door, and then a couple of more door locks, and gingerly hanging the lantern high inside, Jack beheld a copper still.'Ah! I knew that jack had to come from somewhere!'
'Well, sure,'said Jethro. 'But the still's just a cover.'
The still, was a cover? Lord and Lady, for what, Jack wondered. Then he smelled it.He sniffed again.
Homer noticed. 'See? I knew this ole boy had a brain behind that slick suit! What do you think you smell besides applejack there, Mr. Shoes?'
Jack followed his nose to where a partition halved the room. 'It's in there,' he nodded to the other side of the wall. 'What the heck are you boys up to?' He asked, but he grinned all the same.
Clearing his throat, Homer unlocked Door #2. 'Well, just as any old fool can make white lightning, yet it takes a bit of artistry to create a fine apple brandy...' he made a mock bow, 'My colleague here and myself have been experimenting, shall we say...' he stood aside and held the door for Jack, meeting Jethro's eyes.
Past a rather spartan room, with bits of tin and steel parts, gears and flywheels, and a tall cylinder that resembled a straight smokestack.
Again, another door.Homer unlocked Door #3. which led downstairs. Jack could smell dank earth...and something else.
Homer led them onward downstairs bearing the lamp til they reached bottom.Jack could feel cold air breezing by, and heard water drip.
Jack stepped gently into the Inner Sanctum as Jethro took the lamp. 'Holy Bat Crap!' Jack exclaimed, and the two men could no longer contain their guffaws.
'Got'er in one, Jack-Shoes!' Still giggling like two boys playing hookey, they delighted in showing Jack their 'lab'.
'Why hell, not only is it great fertilizer, lotsa nitrates!--
but this fine guano here can be leached into nothin' more than saltpeter, ain't that so?'
Good gods, these boys were making gunpowder! 'You all building bat-bombs here?' he asked.
'Oh, yeah! Bat bombs, and working on rockets, too. Check out what ole Jethro has rigged up here...' Jack could just make out what they were showing him, although he felt rather anxious with all this guano, the lantern, the 'experiments', the lantern...still, he was mighty intrigued, he had to admit...
As Jethro retrieved a cylinder about as tall as himself, Homer continued,'Why, during the Civil War the armies used to mine bat caves for guano...'
'Ah, hell,'Jethro added, 'The Chinese had rockets back in the 1200's!'
'By gods, you boys might have something here! I've worked on similar projects, myself!' Jack allowed.
'Is that so, then? Well, you'll just have to come back around sometime in daylight. We'll engineer a little demonstration for you!' Homer and Jethro were just pleased as punch to find a fellow bat-bomber.'Ahh...meanwhile, I guess we should be headin' on back to the dance.' He winked at Jack, 'I wouldn't leave Miss Emmeline alone for too long, if I were you...'
                            . . . .
Miss Emmeline had indeed been wondering where Jack could have gone. She hadn't been lonesome, certainly, but she was about danced-out now. Knowing he had gone off with Jethro and Homer could mean only one thing to her: Applejack.
'They'll turn up, nina,'Marta sat beside her, resting a spell.
'Oh, I'm not worried. Jack can take care of himself! How are you doing, Marta? Tired?' Marta shook her head. 'Well, I surely am!'Em allowed.
'You've been working too hard, too much, too long, Emmeline! Like Ernestina, you don't know when to quit!' Marta admonished her. 'So it's also your hermana's birthday today as well! My,my!'
'Yes! We were both born on the 8th day! Only she was born in Spring, and I, in fall.'
'Ah, si, I remember...what month?'
'October 8th.'Em said. Marta's eyes went wide. 'Truly, Em? Oh, you know what they say about those who are born on the 8th day of the 8th month...!'
'But, October is the 10th month, Marta!'
'Think, Em! Octo!--means, what?'
'Eight!' Of course, thought Em, the old Roman calendar.'Tell me, Marta! I've never heard a thing!'
Perhaps Emmeline would have been enlightened then, but suddenly Jack, Jethro and Homer appeared at the barn door, arms about each other and singing 'Carabina 30 30'at the top of their lungs and sharing the Little Brown Jug...
Time for this one to go home, thought Em.

Making Beautiful Music

Ch.2 A Piano, Port and Thou, Almost
Sitting on the sofa next to Jack, Emmeline became exceedingly aware of his presence which
somehow seemed to take up a great deal of space in the parlor which impressed Em as being
rather smallish suddenly. Like a corral.
Jack set his wineglass down on the tea table and turned to her then. 'Em...' he began, 'It's
been awhile since, well, if ever?--that we've actually had a chance to talk much, I mean just
relaxing just we two, without either hiding out from sheriffs or mad scientists with a
vendetta...'
'The usual thing!'Em smiled.
Jack smiled back. 'I'm truly sorry Em, we got off on such a wrong foot as it were. I want to
make that up to you. Em, I want to...'he reached out for her hand...
'OH, my biscuits!' Emmeline popped up as if propelled by a trebuchet and headed at a trot
into the kitchen. Jack at first thought it to be an exclamation like her 'o my stars!' so
deeply was he consumed by his own ruminations, but he now realized that actual biscuits were
involved here. He gamely took his wine and followed Em.
'Whew! They're fine! Just right in fact,' she pronounced, taking them from the oven.
'Oh, Em...sourdough, are they?' Jack inhaled a whiff of heaven.
'That ok with you, Mr. Massachusettes?' Em smiled as she tipped them from the pan into  a
waiting basket and covering them with a tea towel, took them into the dining room.
'It's a delight and actually, one of my favorite things in the whole world...what can I do to
help, Em?'Being a world-traveler and having come back only recently to the east coast, Jack
seemed rather amused by Em's assumptions of his origins, but decided to play along as it gave
her a handle on him. He wanted her to be more comfortable with him, give her something she
could relate to in his makeup. But 'Hah-vahd' he was not, and no Massachussettes man, he. Far
from it. But just how different he was, he decided Em didn't need to know just yet.
'Well, grab the tamale pie, that casserole dish there, here's a mitt,' she handed him one,
'and then have a seat! We're ready to dine!'Jack did so, thinking that he was nearly always
ready for that...but had best keep it to himself for now...
                            . . . . .
After dinner found them back in the parlor, but in a much more comfortable space now with
hunger sated and a glass or two of the marvellous merlot under their belts. Jack was stoking
the fire up while Mac and Frida both lay on the hearth soaking up heat from the bricks. The
parlor clock ticked softly, the woodfire crackled pleasantly. Not a bad way to spend a
chillish Febuary Friday night.
Em had spread her sheet music upon the tea table as they relaxed with the rest of the wine,
humming a little as she glanced through her song list. 'OK,'she addressed Jack, 'I have: In
the Evening By the Moonlight, Darling Clementine, Vive la Compagnie...I need something sort
of soothing, and then something more rollicking, or as rollicky as they get at the Inn, which
is rather sedate, I must admit...'
'Alright, we'll work up a varied set for you, Em.' Jack took his wine and moved to the old
upright, and sat, feeling out some chords. 'Hmmm, needs abit of tuning...let's have John
Grace come out here and have a listen, Em. He's the best piano tuner in these parts.'
'Oh, Mr. Grace, the blind piano tuner. Yes, I've heard of him.'
Mr. Grace was the best, Em knew. Could she afford the best though?
As if reading her thoughts, Jack said, 'It's on me, Em--no arguments!' He smiled at her,
'That was the best dinner I've had in awhile! Much appreciated.' He pumped the pedals and
tested the old instrument's resonance. 'Yeats has been off again for some time. He left just
after we returned from San Francisco...'
Em hadn't known this. She wondered what he was about. There was much more to Mr. Yeats than
met the eye, she believed. Emmeline also took her wine over to the piano and sat on the bench
next to Jack. He scooted over for her abit, and smiling, began a rather upbeat  bluesy
number.
'" Who's that woman in the sparkling dress, with diamond brocade, on her chest? She's a Big-
Time Woman, From Way Out West! Automobiles and a cozy home, but she lives there--all alone!
She's a big-time woman...from way out west!
  Oh the way she treats these back-east men!---Ahhh, it's a sin!
She keeps them askin' the same darn thing, all over again...
  Every fella has a winnin' smile, but she treats them all, just like a child! She's a big-
time woman...from way out west!'"
Jack finished, swaying a little side to side as he played out the chords. Em swayed too.
'I love it, Jack! Is it yours? I hadn't heard it before!'she allowed.
'Oh, no...well, just sortof a warm-up song. Probably should steer clear. Hasn't been composed
quite yet...it would fit right in though, with the song style.' Em agreed, and Jack fooled
around the keyboard, wincing and frowning at some of the notes that were off by kilometers.'I
have written some stuff of my own, but I mean, really,'he smiled at her,'who can say that in
my time, or any time. It's all reworking of old tunes...'Old as the Hills' folks say. Our
ancestors came over here to the new world bringing their music with them. We sort of bent and
twisted and poked new things into them here and there, but it's all roots music, of one form
or another!'
'So true, Jack,'Em said, joining Jack on the keyboard with some tentative fingering. 'I love
the old hills music! It just all sounds like keltic rounds to me, with the fiddle and drum!'
'Yep,and add a banjo, originally from Afrika, Em! And you have a new American style of music.
We call it bluegrass now, as in Kentucky.'
'Oh, you know, Jack, I just remembered something! The Guevaras mentioned a barn-raising this
weekend! Out in the country somewhere...but there's going to be a hoe-down, Saturday night I
believe!...You do know what a hoe-down is, Massachusettes?'Em asked with a crooked grin of
her own.
'Oy...'Jack mumbled, then spoke up,'Yes, Em, I know from hoe-downs, already!' but he grinned.
'Good. Well, if you want to hear some hills music, we could check it out, if you like...'Em
was playing a more sedate 'Aura Lee' softly.
'I'd love it, Em! Gosh, that'd be swell...' Jack added a bass accompaniment, draining his
glass.
Em, ever the diligent hostess noted this. 'Oh, I do have some lovely port Jack...let's just
have a wee taste, shall we?' So saying, she up and toddled off into the pantry. Jack didn't
stop her. He figured Em could use a little limbering-up as it were...
He was having fun, he realized, here with Em and her dogs and her out-of-tune old piano, and
oh, mercy, her sourdough biscuits...enough to make a fella swoon, he thought. Best go easy on
that port, then, Jack, he told himself...
Em returned with a tray bearing two small sherry glasses of tawny port, some small slices of
sharp cheddar and a dessert dish of cracked walnuts.'Em...you're spoiling me rotten!' Jack
loved it, taking a small sip.'Oh, that's grand! Cheers, luv!'
Em clinked her glass to his, pausing a moment to reflect how that particular toast recalled
to mind her captain...where are they now...she wondered.
Em began to play a slow rendition of 'Corrina, Corrina' then as Jack munched and listened.
'"I left Corrina, far across the sea...I left Corrina, far across the sea...wouldn't write me
no letters...she wouldn't talk to me...'" Em's voice echoed her wistful longing.
Jack knew what she was feeling. He added some basslines. 'Haven't heard anything as yet, Em?'
he asked, not looking up.
'Not a word, not a wire, nothing...'She sighed.'I know they're probably far away by now, and
news would travel slowly...but I'm dying for a word from them. And nothing from your Mr.
Yeats, either? I'm sure they're fine...just, concerned, you know...'
Jack knew. 'We'll have word soon, I'm sure. It isn't like Yeats to keep us in the dark for
long.' Noting Em's introspective air, he decided he should perhaps enliven things somewhat
and try to regain their earlier ease. Striking up what sounded like a polka or shottisch
perhaps, Jack began to sing: "'Desmond has a barrow in the market-place! Molly is a singer in
a band! Desmond says to Molly, girl I like your face! And Molly says this as she takes him by
the hand...'"
Em smiled as the evening's entertainment progressed into a more
upbeat mode, joining in on the oom-paa-paa sortof song Jack had chosen which sounded vaguely
familiar but with altogether weird wording. Especially the  "'Oobla Di, Oobla Da, Life Goes
On---Braaa! La, la how then life goes on!'" Another 20th-century sample she decided, lots of
those 'braaa's' in the chorus. Must be Scottish, she decided. She rather liked it though...
                            . . . . .

The fire had burned rather low and the port had gotten rather low in the bottle as well by
the time the hour struck 11 o'clock. Em and Jack were still playing and swaying upon the
bench together, and even swaying when they weren't playing. They were feeling rather more
comfortable with one another, and  music being the food of love, as they say...then play on!
Jack had cleverly steered most of the music toward the love song genre, hoping that Em would
respond. She eagerly joined him, and occasionally they'd trade places and Em would take the
bass lines, and so on they played throughout the evening...but Emmeline hadn't really made
the effort to move away from the bench and head back to the couch at all. Jack enjoyed their
playing together, but wished she'd get serious for a minute, at last! Still, hoping, still
dreaming...he launched into another Beatle's tune, with Em leaning heavily on his shoulder
now...she wasn't asleep, was she? he wondered...
"'Here I stand, head in hand, turn my face to the wall...if she's gone I can't go on, feeling
two foot small-lll--lll...everywhere people stare each and every day! I can see them laugh at
me, and I hear them sayy-yyy-yyy! HEY!!!'" Jack yelled,"'You've got to hide your love
away!!'" Em hadn't stirred, though.He tried again: "'HEY! You've got to hide your love
awaaayyy...'"Still nothing.
Jack let the chords die down. 'Em?' he asked tentatively. A soft snore was his only answer.
Jack sighed, closing the piano up for the night. 'C'mon, Em,' he told her softly, 'I guess
I've got to hide my love away...' He gently lifted her from the bench and taking her over to
the sofa, lay her upon it with a pillow behind her head. Covering her with an afghan quilt
nearby, Jack stoked the fire up for her, surmising it would burn another hour and she should
waken and head on up to bed after sleeping off the port. That's what did it, he told himself.
Should've held back. But we were having such a jolly time and all...he looked down at
Emmeline, resting cozily now, 'Snoring like a...lamb!' he told himself. Jack stared at her
awhile, glad to take his fill of watching her, unobserved. She looked so sweet, lying there,
all relaxed and so easily kissed...
'No, no, bad wolf...' Jack told himself. A lamb, was she, not lambchops.Jack sighed and
turned to her watchdogs.'Wake her in an hour, Mac!' he issued the order, and taking his coat
and hat, he then checked the back door, making sure it was locked. Locking the front door
behind him, Jack retrieved Trotsky from the back yard, saddled up and took  himself off back
to Crowley House, his head abit achy...along with some other aches as well,he had to admit,
shifting in his saddle. But, not a bad night! Although, not exactly with the ending he had
hoped for...Always something!
                          . . . . .
Aleister was up still when Jack got in, seated in the parlor and
reading a journal. You old dog, thought Jack, you just want to know what sort of night I had
at Em's...Well, Al had to live vicariously for now, with Alice having sailed out the picture,
Jack realized and decided to stop in and have a word or two with the lonesome doctor.
'Burning the midnight oil, eh, Al?' Jack stood near the fire, warming up after his ride.
'That time, already?' Aleister feigned surprise. 'How was dinner, then?'
'Oh, Al...are you sure you want to hear about the tamale pie, redolent of chilies, the garlic
mashed potatoes, the tart aromatic sourdough biscuits, the gingerbread...'
'--Stop!' Al swallowed, putting Pavlov's dogs to shame with
his liquid response.'Figures Emmeline would be a cook to rival Alice, with the two of them
swapping recipes!' He sighed then.
'I am missing Yeats more by the minute...'
'You and me both, Al. However--!' He opened his saddlebags and took out a fragrant sack. 'Em
insisted I bring you a doggybag!
Here! Biscuits and gingerbread as well. Enjoy!'
Al pounced upon them with the gusto of a hound-dog. 'Bless her heart! Ah, smell that, Jack!'
He took the iron pot above the fire, dropped in a couple of biscuits and broke off a hunk of
the gingerbread, then swung the arm back over the fire to heat.
'Believe I'll sleep better tonight now!'He regarded Jack appraisingly. 'Soooo...how did the
songfest go?'
Jack sat down at the other end of the sofa from Al. 'Ah, well, not bad! We had alot of fun,
actually! Oy, that piano, though!
I'm having John Grace come out to give it a tune up.' He brushed flour from his pants, and
started removing his boots. 'She seemed to like the merlot, and the roses...we then embarked
upon Alice's port stash though.' Jack shook his head, then put a hand up to his forehead, and
squeezed the bridge of his nose.'Never should have gone there...'
'Bit of a headache, now, Jack?' Al smiled at him, talking around his gingerbread.
'Well...that's expected. I hadn't expected Em to drop off stone
asleep on me, while we're seated at the piano. though!'
'That exciting, eh?' Al grinned wickedly.
'Actually, we let things get out of control abit...but no, not in the way you're thinking!'
Al made a blank of his features as though he'd never be caught thinking anything at all. Jack
continued:'We were having such a fine time, singing and playing...and I sortof made free with
the music, playing a few
modern tunes...some rhythm and blues you know, some soul music.
Hoping to get Em to relax some. I admit I'd had a bit to drink by then...it's a good thing
she fell asleep. I was darn near launching into 'Let Me Play With Your Poodle' at one
point...'
'Oy, indeed, Jack!' Al laughed. 'Ahh, well...next time, maybe.
At least you two seem to be getting along better now, eh?'
'Seems that way.' Jack tossed his boots on the hearth, thinking then that it lacked
something. 'Maybe we should get a dog, here, Al.What do you think? A watch dog.'
'Hmmm...not a bad idea, Jack. I'll think about it. And, we'll have to run it by Yeats of
course...'
'Run what by Yeats?' A familiar yet long-missed voice asked as Yeats entered from the dining
room.
The two men jumped abit, and turned to see their Head, back at last from whatever far-flung
time or place had demanded his attention for nearly a month.
Yeats had a nose for biscuits though, as the others had for news.
'Ummm. Sourdough, eh?' He sauntered toward the pot on the fire, grabbed a bisuit and bit into
one, as Jack and Al stared dumbstruck his way. 'You two look as if you've seen a ghost.'
He munched contentedly. 'Miss me much?'
Jack and Al looked at each other and laughed. Yeats was back!
                     . . . . .

Book Two: Emmeline Returns

It was only February in Pankhurst, but already it seemed like spring.
Trees budding, pussywillows bloomed out full already,and the rivers ran low. City folk brightly declaimed favorably about the 'gorgeous' weather and 75 degree days, but it had reached into the 70's back in December,even. Farmers knew this was nothing to celebrate.
Fearing a false spring, they were wary of new buds on fruit and nut trees. Sometimes, when this happened before, a frost would hit then and wipe out the early buds. But if that didn't happen, and the weather just got hotter and drier, it could mean something even worse. More drought.
They'd drought in the southwest for a few years now and duststorms played havoc throughout the land, but wildfires were the big bogey.
Friendly fire, this was not.
Yes, change had come to Pankhurst.
Emmeline now found herself in Alice's position in many ways. After the dust had settled around Alice's departure, (Em coughed up a story about Al's immediate need to care for her sick sister & farm back in Illinois), Em was dumped without ceremony into Alice's shoes at the archives warehouse.
Meanwhile, Emmeline and Jack had arrived at a truce of sorts. Jack had donated no small sum to Pankhurst's Historical Society with the caveat that the city's historical papers and artefacts be housed in a new and expanded space as part of the library's. archives facility in a joint endeavor. This  he also offered to oversee and to bring in Yeats as a restoration and authentication expert, (which he in fact was). This solved the problem of getting Em to work: she and Jack, and sometimes Yeats all rode in together. Along with it crept other problems though. Although Jack found the work fascinating, it also brought in
the good denizens of Pankhurst and the founding families and others who were bethought to be pillars of the community, if only in their own minds... Having to deal with these over-inflated gasbags who pontificated with an endless running commentary regarding the trivia of many generations past would try the patience of saints of old.And, needless to say,Jack was no saint...
Emmeline in fact had now been obliged to assume rather questionable behavior more suited to an archangel on the skids herself. Or so thought some... To assist her meager library salary, she was now working weekends playing piano and sometimes singing abit, at Pankhurst Inn. 'Indoor Busking' she called it, wryly. Jack was not amused, however.
'Working 7 days a week, Em...there's just no need...'he'd told her when first she'd proudly announced her new gig. Em could feel her redhair arise and take umbrage at that.
'There most certainly IS a need, Jack! I've Alices' house to run on my own now, a yard to take care of, MacGregor...poor Macky. He still pines for Alice so!' Mac had been in mourning ever since his mistresses' desertion. He couldn't know that she was pining for him as well...
'Em, I know, I know...'Jack tried to be diplomatic. But dammit couldn't Emmeline see that there was no need to wear herself out like that! 'We're willing to help, you know we are...'
'Jack.'Em wasn't having it. 'You've done more than enough already, please!' She put a hand on his arm to soften her rejection. 'I'm so grateful that thanks to you, I've means to get to work now! But, I am not your charity case!' She'd closed the door on that conversation, literally, and took her leave then, heading downstairs into storage.
Jack had busied himself after lunch researching some of the founding familia's records in fact; after some gentle but insistent pressure by same. Not altogether as boring as their descendents, the ancestor's files divulged a glimmer of gold here and there, sometimes in the more literal cent$. Some local worthies had gold claims of note, in their recent past.Others contained items of interest only to Jack.
Emmeline entered then, refreshed by her foray outdoors for lunch. 'Anything of interest today Jack?' She was sometimes given to brooding by herself, however, anything but the immediate moment was forgotten once she had a change of scene. She was much like Jack in that, if she'd known.
Jack smiled crookedly. 'You'll not believe it, Em! Look!' He made room for her and spread his journals and papers before her. 'You recall the war games yes? And the folks who were injured by the ancestor's spirits then?'
'How could I forget? Have you been researching this, still?' Em looked at him.
'Naturellemente, Em! Well, see here: apparently Dickman, for instance, had a relative active in the Indian wars then. As did many others of Aryan stock here in town...'
'Oh,Jack, I see!'Em did see. 'Revenge, was it? "The sins of the fathers"...?'
'...Visited upon the sons, indeed. What comes around goes around, Em.' Jack sighed. 'Even after death, apparently, if strong emotion is involved, as well as an earthly connection. Like offspring.' He began to roll up some of the old parchments, wearing his ever-present white work gloves. 'The circle has to stop somewhere though Em. In my time, the Hatfields and McCoys feuding has reached overkill...the entire world suffers for it.'
They were silent for awhile, Jack not wishing to distress Em with too much harsh reality. For Em's part, she didn't want to press him. Having gotten over their tiff earlier, she knew that she owed him much and truthfully, she was feeling kinder toward Jack. It had been a hard go, coming home to Alices' house, without Alice there. Mac had taken to mournful howling nights for nearly a month...if it hadn't been for the kindness of the Kahlos next door, who loaned their white Scotty, Frida to her to keep Mac company, Em feared he'd have howled himself to death. The Kahlos were fond of Mac and with Frida now in heat, they were hoping for pups. And a good night's sleep for a change.
'Jack...there is something that I've been thinking of asking your help with...'Em began tentatively.
'You've only to name it,'Jack smiled, putting his research away and coughing abit from the dust, he took her elbow and opened the front door to let some of the breeze though.
'Well, it's such a wee thing really..,' Emmeline was rather embarrased to ask, but Jack was the best pianist she knew in town.'I need to learn some new songs to add to my repertoire. Could you, perhaps, give me a few pointers?'
Jack opened his mouth, frowning, but shut it quickly and turned to gaze outside. He looked down at his boots then. 'Of course, Em. If you like.'He smiled at last. 'It'd be my pleasure,'he lied.
'Wonderful!' Seeing her face light up almost made the lie worth it.
'Tell you what, come by for dinner tonight and we can practice awhile afterwards, what say?' Em knew he'd come around.
'Sounds good to me, Em,'Jack took out his pocket watch. 'We'd best clean things up around here, just an hour til we're off. Say has MacGregor given his howling a rest yet?'
'Oh, Jack--yes! Finally! Thanks to Frida!'
'Frida?'
'You'll meet her later tonight. I have some female company at Alices' at last, now.'
'You're full of surprises Em,'Jack allowed.
'Wouldn't want to bore you, Jack. This place does that enough for both of us...let's get to it and get out of this musty old barn!'
Jack wasn't about to argue with that.
                               . . . . .
It was a Friday night and so Emmeline asked Jack to stop by later for supper after dropping her off after work. She whipped up some garlic mashed potatoes with mushroom and onion gravy to go with the leftover tamale pie from last night. That and antipasto salad should do us, she decided, with gingerbread made just yesterday for dessert and sourdough biscuits sat ready to pop in the oven.
Em was beginning to understand Jack's heavy load with his uncle's place on his shoulders...now that she was queen of Alice's castle,
(as she still thought it to be, now and always),it seemed to take all of her free time to take on the things that had been chiefly Alice's province before: ordering ice on time, egg deliveries, keeping up with the woodpile and getting in more firewood; although Em had always enjoyed cracking logs, it all added up to more work, on top of her job. She was months behind in her mending and sewing; she had to admit to taking in some
for extra income as well. Soon now she would have to think about spring planting. Indeed Alice's extra pair of hands was sorely missed. Not to mention losing her best friend and dearest confidante.
She knew Al was blissful to have found Frank again, at long last!She consoled herself imagining them to be having a second honeymoon in sunny southern climes. She knew Mr. Orez would find a safe and comfortable situation for them, wherever they were. She hadn't heard as yet from her Captain, though and couldn't help but be just a little concerned until she did...
A familiar 'whuf' at the back door interrupted her thoughts and she opened the porch door to allow streaks of white and black fur to fly inside, tails awag. 'Well, now? Been busy have we?' she enquired of Mac and Frida whose smiles and playful nips at each other told her she was right in her assumptions. Setting their food and water bowls on the porch she surveyed the two lovebirds awhile. Good girl, Frida, she thought, you've saved Mac and the entire neighborhood from lonely sleepless nights.
Her mood lightened considerably then, as she stoked the parlor fire and inhaled the garlic in the potatoes and tamale pie as they sat warming in the kitchen. Didn't Alice still have a bottle of port or two left from the holidays? Maybe they could allow themselves a glass after dinner...she checked her reflection in the mirror in the hallway and thought she looked tired. Well, fine;she WAS tired! But so was Jack, she knew...uff da! but what with having his uncles' place to check on and restoring Crowley House, along with his new 'job' at archives now...he wasn't the bright cocky yet reserved easterner that she first surmised him to be... Who knew though, the  trials and troubles people had, behind closed doors...we only see what's in front of us and most people are so concerned with their own problems they're blind to the tribulations of others, great and small.
Resolving to keep an open mind with respect to Jack, and to perhaps go abit easier on him, she pinched some roses back into her cheeks and checked the time: 8pm. She yawned then and was nearly knocked aside as Mac and Frida came wuffing past her to the front door. That'll be him now, she thought. Don't forget those biscuits...
'Look out, Macky, let me get the door now!'Em scooted his furry self over with her slipper.'Hello, Jack!'Em opened the door to behold Jack Van Horn, a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of impossible, out-of-season red roses in the other, trying unsuccesfully to brush back his inky locks which fell in his eyes with the hand holding the bottle, nearly clocking himself in the process...
'Come in, Jack!' Em choked out, standing aside, wide-eyed. Oh, heavens, what was this now--a date?! She felt somewhat at odds standing here, in just her simple day frock and slippers (well, Alice's Chinese slippers really...as she was in Alice's shoes now)and still with apron on, she realized. She blushed as he handed her the roses.
'Thought we could celebrate this long weeks' end abit, Em!' Jack gamely declaimed.'Something smells great!' He looked down at the two pair of brown eyes below regarding him with interest. 'Hey, Macky!
Who's your friend there?' He let Frida sniff his hand and gave Mac a pat. They wagged their approval.
'Jack, meet Frida! Mac's, eh...galpal. She'll be staying with us awhile.'Em's blush took on new fire.'I'll just find some water for these...dinner's nearly ready! Hope you're hungry!'She exited into the kitchen, found a vase for the roses and removed her apron, feeling foolish, somehow; she hadn't really been thinking of tonight in terms of a date...just the two of them. And no Alice or Aleister to chaperone them, now.
Jack followed her into the kitchen with Mac and Frida at his heels and presented the wine. 'A nice merlot. 2008 was a good year,'he smiled.Emmeline rolled her eyes, but smiled. 'Thank you, I, I'm sure it was, or will be...?' She handed Jack the corkscrew. 'I'll just put the biscuits in and we'll be ready to dine soon.' She then took the flowers back into the parlor, setting them on the dining table as centerpiece. 'How lovely, Jack. Are they from Massachusettes? Warm there this time of year, ah-yah?' she`cocked an eyebrow, knowingly.
'Caught me out, Em, that they are...'Jack smiled his crooked grin, popping the cork and pouring wine for them. Em shook her head slowly,
'Not fair, Jack...I'll have to claim a hot-house connection to cover you!' But she didn't seem unduly troubled.
'Cheers, Em! To the weekend, what?!' They clinked glasses and imbibed the dark woody red with relish.
'Ummm...diosa! That's worth traveling for, I'd say!' Em smiled, then felt she was being watched.  She put a hand on one hip and regarded Mac and Frida who seemed to be wagging and smiling at them.'What are you two looking at?!You've both eaten! You need to go outside awhile! Go make your rounds patroling the estate there, Mac!' And out the door they were shown.
'There, now, biscuits will be done soon!'Jacks' presence suddenly loomed large before her, exuding heat. 'So! Just the two of us now, it seems!'Em bit her lower lip, running her finger over the lip of her wineglass.
'Just the two of us,'agreed Jack brightly, and moving into the parlor, he sat upon the sofa. 'Come and rest your dainty feet a spell, Em...' He patted the space next to him.
Well...why not? Thought Em.We're both adults here. That thought wasn't exactly easing Em's mind though, as she gingerly occupied the space beside Jack. He held up his glass, and gazed at her then. 'To us, Em.' She blinked and opened her mouth slightly, but, remembering her earlier ruminations, smiled and clinked her glass against his. 'We'll see,'she said.
                                . . . . .