The Talisman - Crisscross

by Shaunna Gonzales

Trish and Lucinda walked side by side in the morning light. The river boiled and swirled incessantly, threatening its banks, and yet it seemed slower.

  "This river hardly seems the same as the one Quinn helped me cross yesterday."

  "How so, honey?"

  There that word was again. Trish had almost believed it had vanished from Lucinda's vocabulary. "It doesn't seem as ready to swallow me alive this morning."

  "Oh honey, if it's that kind of excitement you’re wantin' all ya have to do is go downstream beyond the oxbow where the stage crosses. The channel gets mighty deep."

  Lucinda waved to a woman as they approached the bridge. The woman appeared as though dressed in her underthings, including an ivory white corset. She wore a thin red wrapper that fluttered in the morning breeze while she hung out her silk stockings on a clothesline strung from the post of the red buildings back stairway to a nearby shack.

  "Good morning," Lucinda called across the rushing river.

  "Mornin', Lucinda."

  Lucinda and Trish walked across the new wooden bridge, barely wide enough for a wagon. "I'm so glad the men built this bridge. I used to wade across on the other side of the saloon but after the wagons with a load of dry goods got stuck again this spring, the men decided a bridge was less work than unloading mid-stream."

  "I'll bet. I don't need two baths today or to get dirty again after I get a bath. Thanks for this." Trish motioned toward the woman Lucinda had greeted. "Who is she?"

  "That's Zelda."

  Trish felt her jaw go slack and quickly righted it. The woman's brash display of generous curves in her lingerie felt like it belonged more in the twenty-first century's skin flicks than here. "Isn't she concerned about being seen by -- someone in her lingerie?"

  "She is a good friend, honey. What she wears is really her business." Lucinda chuckled. "She's probably getting herself all done up for Quinn."

  A Meadowlark warbled nearby as they greeted Zelda. "Honey, this is Trish. She just isn't happy with a sponge bath at my house. Could she impose on you for a nice hot soak?"

  "I musta known you was comin'. The pot is already over the fire." Zelda turned to Trish, swinging a bucket toward her. "You haul the water and you've got yourself a hot bath."

  Trish exchanged the bundle of clothing from Penelope for the bucket Zelda offered her. Trish wasn't about to pass up a hot bath, even if it meant hauling twenty buckets of water.

  She returned from the river with her first full bucket to hear "…and he probably won't get here for hours."

  "He'll probably stop by the cabin first, honey. Enjoy your bath, Trish." Lucinda turned, heading for the bridge.

  Zelda turned to Trish. "I tried to get Pierre to build the bathhouse on the other side away from the road here. But the privy's on the other side and he says I should be close to the river to haul water, so close to the river it is."

  Trish dumped the bucket of water in the huge pot hanging over the fire. She turned her attention to the small shack. It stood off-centered from the saloon, the river, and the road with the door facing the fire. A narrow and damp man-made, or woman-made waterway led from the shack to the river. She peeked inside. It hardly had enough room for the tub and a small stool near the door. A rough plank ran the length of the far wall. It hardly claimed the space but boasted a few pretty bottles, a bar of soap and an odd-shaped sponge. Clearly, this tiny shack was for daylight use only as the plank wasn't wide enough to hold a lantern safely.

  "You keep filling the pot and I'll get some more wood to heat the water. I'll just put your things on the stool inside the door. Lucinda comes down for an occasional bath, too. Don't let her fool ya."

  Trish slipped into the tub of steaming water and few bubbles with a sigh. Hauling the water had taken several trips but with a long, luxurious soak, her muscles wouldn't complain. "Thank you Zelda. This feels fabulous."

  "Come up the back steps with this sheet tight around you. Wouldn't want any fellers passin' by to think there's a new tart in the house. Cain't blame ya fer wantin' to get a break from the love birds. I sware, I ain't never seen no man fawn over a woman like Albert does fer Lucy. 'Course she encourages 'im with her flutterin' lashes and shy giggles."

  "They seemed rather proper to me."

  "Augh." Zelda batted Trish's observation aside with her hand. "Newlyweds. They can rein it all in when they wanna. But what woman would wanna with the likes of Albert to put a poke in yar fire?"

  Trish ignored Zelda's comment and slipped deeper into the water with a moan of pleasure. Her eyes closed.

  Zelda's lusty laughter filled the bath house. "I'll just take these clothes upstairs. You come get them when you're ready. The soap and sponge are there on the shelf. Lilac, lavender or rose?"

  "Lilac, lavender or rose what?"

  "You strike me as a lavender." Trish opened her eyes to see Zelda pour a bottle of water into her bath. The fragrance of lavender filled the tiny shack. "Ta da."

  For years, Trish had dreamed of a bath that she could completely immerse her body in. Such luxury didn't fill her mother's house. Mother always conserved everything from antibiotics to Ziploc bags and most things in between, including water. She relaxed and fell asleep briefly.

  "Ught hum." A distinctly male voice disturbed her sweet dream of picking flowers in a wide-open field. Trish's eyes flew open wide. She sat up in surprise. Feeling the cold of a light breeze across her breasts, she sank back into the water. A rush of embarrassment flooded her senses. A man stood in the door way, the light behind him. Her heart pounded wildly. For a moment she didn't remember where she was and almost accused him of breaking into her home.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Recognizing his voice, she felt confident in responding with a bold, "I would ask ya the same, but apparently yer bathing in my bath water."

  "I hauled and heated this water, and not for you." He didn't back away. Had she been wrong? Not sure, she inched further under the soapy gray water.

  "A'right, ifn' you hauled the water, guess ya have the right. Ifn' I haul more water an' re-light the fire, can ya get a wiggle on?"

  "I'll be done when I'm ready to be done. And not before."

 

  Chapter 12