Chapter Text
Tumbleweed
”Tumbleweed? Oh, come on…”
This felt more and more like a bad idea. What had she been thinking taking a job out here? Well, she knew at least part of the answer: equal pay for female teachers and voting rights. She felt her heart pound in her chest just thinking about it. Vote… Like a real citizen. After her marriage had broken down, the siren song of freedom had been too loud to resist.
But right now, shaking through the wild landscape on a hard second-class train seat, she wasn't so sure.
”Ghost Town. Sounds lovely.” she muttered to herself as the train twisted its way along the tracks through the wild country, heading farther and farther away from the known world.
She took a railway system map out of her bag.
"So, last one was Tropeville. That makes Ghost Town next stop.”
It wasn't just the next stop: for better or for worse, it was her new life.
***
The Olde Fire Station
She’d been told Miss Janine's Boarding House for Ladies would be close enough to the diminutive Ghost Town station house that she wouldn’t require a carriage to pick her up.
While scanning for Miss Janine’s, she felt sorry for whoever had owned the building now in soot and rubble, not far from the tracks.
When she found the town hotel and saloon, the sign above the swinging doors read The Olde Fire Station, which Erin found more than a little ironic under the circumstances.
The saloon was nice. Tidy and painted in a warm, dark green, it was not what she had expected for a crowd of gamblers and farm hands that made up half its clientele that afternoon. But there was also a priest sitting by himself by the window eating, so it seemed to cater to a diverse clientele.
At a table near the bar, four men were deeply focussed on a poker game. Erin tried not to stare, but she'd never seen anyone openly wearing a gun belt before. The closest one wore a strange looking buckskin jacket that might be native American over an outfit of double breasted vest, pocket watch and a big burgundy silk bow. He was slouched down so far on his chair that Erin couldn't see his face under the big hat. She had the fleeting thought that this particular cowboy was on the small side, unlike his firearm. His black friend was a tall, strapping fellow, however, so maybe he was the brawns of the team and the little one the brains. They seemed to know each other well.
A short brunette appeared from behind the counter, wearing an odd-looking hat. She removed the strange headgear and put it on the floor behind the bar.
”Just a little experiment of mine. Welcome to The Olde Fire Station, I'm Abigail Yates, but folks just call me Abby."
”Erin Gilbert, I’m the new school teacher. Actually, I’m looking for Miss Janine’s, but I can’t seem to find it.”
”Ah… That's a real shame. I'm afraid Miss Janine's burned down a few days ago. I guess there hasn't been time to notify incoming guests.”
Erin felt her heart sink.
”That’s awful. And two doors down from a place called the fire station...”
”You know, that’s exactly what I said. Sadly, this place hasn’t been a fire station since Ghost Town ran out of gold a decade ago.”
Abby smiled at her and Erin couldn’t help but smile back.
”Do you have any available rooms?”
"We're booked solid, because of Miss Janine's."
"Is there another hotel in town?"
"Nope, we're it."
Abby turned to the card players.
”Holtzmann?”
”Yup?”
The gambler pushed his...her…? hat back and looked up at Abby.
Erin knew she was gawking, but she couldn’t help herself. The gambler was a girl. A pretty girl, even. Blond curly hair pinned up under the hat, laughing blue eyes and deep dimples when she smiled.
She looked at Erin. Not just her face, but all of her, head to toe. The smile got wider.
”Come here often?”
”Holtz…”
Abby rolled her eyes.
”Alriiight.”
She tipped her hat in Erin’s direction.
”Holtzmann, good to meet you, ma’am.”
Just ”Holtzmann”, no first name.
”Erin. Erin Gilbert.”
”Welcome to Ghost Town, Erin.”
”Holtzmann, I’m going to need you to share with Ms. Gilbert for a few days, until we get something worked out, OK?”
Abby turned to Erin.
”Holtzmann has free access to a room here in exchange for helping me out around the place. I’d offer you mine, but it’s already gone, I sleep in the office right now.”
Erin just stared at her. She was supposed to share a room with a strange gambling gunslinger, a few pounds of buckskin and the scariest looking handguns she’d ever seen? She took a deep breath to calm herself. Coming to Ghost Town had not been a good idea.
”It’s on the house, of course. And Holtzmann will be a gentleman and make sure you feel welcome, right Holtz?”
Erin had the feeling that Abby was talking to Holtzmann as much as her.
Holtzmann grinned.
”Yup, will do.”
And there it was again: that look that covered so much more than just her face. She had no idea how to interpret it.
Abby pointed to Holtzmann’s companion.
"If you want to know about local history, Patty's the one to ask. She knows the frontier like the back of her hand. And if you need to go places, she has a really good carriage."
The tall cowboy nodded.
”Came on out here to write a book about the last days of the frontier, kind of just lingered on.”
Another woman… But with this one, Erin had a feeling it didn’t matter. Patty didn’t look like the sort of person you’d want to quarrel with, she was taller than most men and looked like she might beat them at arm wrestling too.
”Abby, can I talk to you?”
Abby gestured for her to join her behind the bar.
"I don't mean to sound rude, I really appreciate the hospitality, but like I said, I'm the new school teacher. I'm not sure I can share a room with someone who's obviously a drinker, gambler and possibly a gunslinger, not that I would know what one of those looked like, I'm from Michigan."
"I hear you. The rules are a little different here, though. More along the lines of 'do what you have to do to get by, mind your own business and you'll live longer’. There are a lot of things you can't do in Michigan that's just fine out here. They've been without a school teacher for six months, you could probably sell your body on Main Street and people still wouldn't think you disqualified. These folks are used to Holtzmann, they won't bat an eyelid if you share a room with her. Besides, there's something you don't know about her that plays into this equation: we became friends through our mutual interest in advances of modern science. She's probably the smartest person I've ever met."
”Bennie!”
A young man came shuffling slowly out of the kitchen.
”I’ll have my cook-and-bell-boy help you with those.”
”But… I have bad knees?”
”Cream and sugar, Bennie, it’s one flight of stairs, go help our guest.”
Bennie muttered something despondently as he picked her carpet bag up off the floor. She was glad she was having the rest of her things sent.
”Oh, and Erin?”
”Yes?”
”You’ll be very safe. Holtzmann is the quickest draw in the west.”
***
Bath Day
One bed. Of course there was one bed… it was wider than her bed back home, thankfully. But not by much… Surprisingly, there was also a small beat-up copper bathtub, missing claw foot replaced by a brick, in the room.
”I made a special deal with Abby. I like to keep my own hours and this way, I don’t wake the other guests if I use the hotel bathroom. They were going to throw that baby out; can you believe that?”
Holtzmann gestured toward the bathtub and threw her grubby hat on the bed.
Erin had it on the tip of her tongue to say that she could believe it: that tub had seen better days. But right now, she was grateful for it.
”Welcome to my humble abode. You will probably be glad to hear that today is bath day. Unless you’re a fan of the sweat-and-smoke-combo of the Ghost Town Express.”
”I am, and I am not.”
She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not quite knowing what to do with herself.
”Thanks for letting me impose, it’s very kind of you,” she said stiffly.
”Oh, I couldn’t leave a damsel in distress now, could I?”
Holtzmann winked at her. It was the most ridiculous gesture. But for some reason, Erin felt her cheeks heat up. Holtzmann was such a strange bird, she truly didn’t know what to think or how to act around her.
”Whiskey?”
Erin’s eyes widened. In her circles, no woman drank whiskey, or any strong alcohol, for that matter. She shook her head. But to her surprise, she was tempted. Holtzmann poured herself a drink and took a cigarillo out of a beat-up case. No women smoked where she was from either.
”So? Bath time?”
”Yup, I’ll get everything set up.”
Abby knocked on the door with fresh linen and took Erin on a tour of the hotel, to show her the communal bathrooms and small dining room for guests who didn’t want to share the rowdy atmosphere of the saloon.
When she got back to their room, she took her time to undress behind the screen in the corner. She assumed that Holtzmann would leave the room or else put up a partition or something to ensure her privacy as she got into the tub. She half didn’t expect to see her as she got out from behind the screen.
But there she was, with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarillo in the other, like they were still in the saloon downstairs, except she was stark naked and already in the tub.
"Your bath is ready, m'lady."
Erin stared for several seconds before she realized and looked away in acute embarrassment. Holtzmann gestured for her to join her, like sharing a bath with a stranger was par for the course.
"You want us to...bathe together? At the same time?"
”Yup. Water shortages.”
"Water shortages? For real?"
Holtzmann grinned at her and nodded.
”You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
"I've had worse Wednesday nights."
Erin stupidly felt a tremor in her lower lip. Holtzmann probably didn't mean to upset her, but she was exhausted, emotionally and physically, by the long trip. And here she was, in a strange town in a strange place, not at all sure she'd made the right choice coming here. She could have done with some kindness right about now.
Holtzmann's face fell.
"Look… I'm sorry, I thought you knew about the water shortages, I didn't realise you assumed that you would be left in peace for this. Tell yah what, I'll get out and let you have your bath. I'll bathe next week."
"That's ridiculous, you can't wait a whole extra week to bathe, it's not sanitary."
She wasn't sure this was a good idea, but she certainly didn't want to go to bed dirty either. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and rummaged through her carpet bag.
"Close your eyes."
Holtzmann raised her eyebrows in surprise but did as she asked. She got her second, clean combination camisole and put it on, before slowly lowering herself into the blissfully hot bath, at the safest possible distance from Holtzmann. She sighed with contentment and closed her eyes. But not for long. She was sharing a tub with a naked gunslinger, after all.
It was strangely endearing how Holtzmann tried to keep her eyes above chest level. Her underwear must be almost see-through, but Erin appreciated her keeping up appearances.
"You should bathe that disgusting hat too."
"Hey! That hat has seen more of the frontier than most people. That hat has history."
"I'm sure it has. But a history of what?"
”Do you want me to scrub your back?”
”Funny, Holtzmann.”
”Actually, I meant that literally. I’m guessing you had a window seat on the train?”
”What makes you say that?”
”Soot on the back of your neck. Happens sometimes if you sit by an open train window and the smoke billows past you. Can make you grubby.”
”Oh, I see. Guess I understand now why the conductor asked if I wanted him to close the window.”
Erin felt guilty that she had immediately assumed Holtzmann was making an inappropriate joke.
”Thanks, that would be really helpful.”
She understood why Holtzmann pushed the wet muslin out of the way and down her shoulders to get access to dirty spots. But still, it felt intimate. She was surprisingly gentle moving the soft washcloth over Erin's skin. She would even go so far as to say it felt good. Not that she would tell Holtzmann though, she was cocky enough already. She rested one hand on her shoulder while she used the other for washing. They were softer than Erin had expected for someone who looked like a cowboy. She felt herself start to relax.
When they were done, Holtzmann held out a towel for her.
”Promise to keep my eyes closed.”
The fabric was rougher than she was used to, but it was wonderfully clean, and Erin inhaled its soapy freshness.
”OK, I’m done.”
Luckily, Erin had brought a robe. She’d had no idea she’d have this much use for it.
She realised she was taller than Holtzmann without shoes or boots. She smiled at her.
"So… Are you the smallest gunslinger in the west?”
"Doesn't matter. I have the longest gun and I'm really good at using it."
Holtzmann sounded like she had said something salacious and not just mentioned a means to defend herself.
After the bath, Holtzmann sat in the window and smoked. Erin pulled up a chair and joined her. She hadn’t seen the sky like this, with so many stars. Ghost Town had few lights at night. It was beautiful. She surprised herself by yawning widely.
”Time for bed, I see. Left, or right?”
”Which one do you prefer?”
”I normally kind of sleep in the middle.”
”Oh, OK. I’ll take...Left, then.”
She laid down as far out to the edge of the bed as she could and pulled the sheets up to her chin.
Holtzmann slept in a nightshirt, which had been a great source of relief. She had half expected her to sleep naked and make jokes about Erin’s discomfort about it. But she just rolled over and turned her back. A few minutes later, she heard her breaths even out and Erin allowed herself to relax. She had assumed she’d have trouble falling asleep in a strange town, in a strange bed, with a stranger by her side. But she felt her eyelids getting heavier. She thought about what Abby said about Holtzmann being the quickest draw in the west. If she had to share a bed with a gunslinger, she was glad it was the best one, at least.
***
The woman in the red blouse
When Erin woke up the following morning, Holtzmann was already gone. She was genuinely surprised her sleep had been so heavy that she didn't even hear her roommate get up. The long trip had taken its toll.
She got dressed and went downstairs to see if Abby could rustle up some breakfast. Holtzmann was leaning on the bar, her shirtsleeves rolled up and her collar unbuttoned. The dress code in Ghost Town certainly was less strict than back home.
Abby and Holtzmann hadn’t seen her yet. She realised they were talking about her.
”How’re you two getting along?”
”She’s as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but other than that, we’re doing fine. She sure is a different flavour than I’m used to. But I kind of like it.”
”It’s not like you don’t get a lot of flavours anyway, you cad.”
”I’ve never had a redhead.”
”And you’re not having one now either! Just take it easy with her, OK? She's not used to life out here."
Holtzmann put her hand over her heart.
"Everything will be in apple pie order, you have my word."
Bennie despondently shuffled out of the kitchen and put a hearty breakfast in front of Erin. It looked more like the kind of meal you would serve a farm hand than a school marm. Erin felt suddenly ravenous.
”Thought you might be hungry!”
Erin smiled at Abby. She’d met this woman 12 hours ago and she already felt like she knew her. She had a feeling this might be the beginning of a great friendship.
***
Erin spent the next two days getting to know Ghost Town, with Abby and Patty’s help. Holtzmann was away a lot, fixing whatever had malfunctioned and caught fire near Miss Janine’s.
The day before school was due to start, Erin joined them for an afternoon cup of coffee at the bar, when a gorgeous blond man walked in.
”I guess I need to go house hunting, I can't inconvenience Holtzma… Who's that?"
Patty sighed and shook her head.
"Oh, that's just Kevin. He's a little simple, but a kind soul. I let him do odd jobs for me, so does Abby. Came out here in a fancy getup saying he was a cowboy. Mail-order cowboy, if there ever was one. Couldn't even ride a horse. Lucky for everyone, he had no gun. Lord knows how that would have ended up."
Abby winced at the combination of Kevin and a gun.
"Kevin is useless. But we've grown fond of him. And he's lost on his own, so he's kind of ours now."
Abby tried to sound annoyed, but there was an affectionate smile on her face.
"He likes to play hide and seek with the local kids, they love him."
Erin indicated an extravagantly dressed man at the next table.
”That man doesn’t look like he’s from around here?”
”He’s a traveling salesman. Or a charlatan, if you want another way to describe what he does.”
Patty’s handsome farmhand walked up to them.
”That’s Mr. Christ.”
”Mr...Christ? Really? Christ?”
”Yup, Mr. Smartin Christ.”
Abby patted his arm.
”Buddy… It’s Heiss, not Christ. Martin Heiss, like I told you.”
Kevin looked confused as he glanced back at the dapper man, incongruously dressed in a purple suit and floppy hat.
”Don’t buy anything this time, OK? He’s a fraud and that product isn’t worth the bottle it’s poured in.”
”I’ll have you know that my snake oil is good for a myriad of ailments, including gout, tuberculosis and hysteria. Especially the latter”, Martin Heist said and looked meaningfully at Abby.
”If there was such thing a thing as an elixir that cures everything, it’d cost more than 60 cents. There’s zero scientific evidence for your claims.”
Abby walked off to greet a man that Patty informed her was a local councillor. They ended up deep in discussion.
”It seems like pretty much everyone comes to Abby with their problems here?”
”Holtzmann and Abby are kind of the unofficial sheriffs around here, since Ghost Town doesn’t have one of its own, we’re under Tropeville jurisdiction for now. Abby because people trust her and Holtzy because she’s got the biggest guns. Also, most people think she a little crazy, so they do what she says.”
”Is she?”
”Nah. Is she a bit of a weirdo? Sure. But her heart’s in the right place.”
”And you?”
Patty grinned and stood up to her full height.
”Do people do what I say? With a Longline Special in my holster? Well, what do you think?”
Erin smiled back.
”I’ll venture a yes.”
She really liked Patty, with her easy going, friendly style and big smile. And she had bonded with Abby right away, like they were old friends. Maybe Ghost Town would be OK, after all. Now she just had to figure Holtzmann out. There was something she couldn’t define between them, a strange, restless energy she didn’t recognise. She fascinated her, that much was certain, since she couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She had to use the hotel bathroom and passed her and Holtzmann’s room on the way. She stopped when the door was opened by a strange woman. She was just buttoning the last button on her red silk blouse. She hadn’t seen Erin yet as she turned around and...kissed Holtzmann. On the lips. In a distinctly non-friendly way. When Holtzmann saw Erin standing there, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a night time stagecoach.
Erin turned and stomped off. Holtzmann called out to her, but she didn’t stop until she reached the bar.
”Abby? You know how I said I don’t drink whiskey?”
”Mhmm?”
”Apparently, there’s a first time for everything.”
”You want a…?”
”Yes please. Strongest stuff you’ve got.”
Abby took a bottle from underneath the counter. The good stuff, not the kind she served customers she didn’t like, and poured Erin a shot.
Holtzmann’s friend walked down the stairs and Erin gave her the stink eye.
”You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
”More like Holtzmann’s...lady friend or whatever that’s called. I honestly have no idea.”
”Ah…”
”You knew about that?”
”Yup.”
She sat down next to Erin.
”When we first came out here, there weren’t many men left, because of the gold rush. So, the girls got...restless. And Holtzmann is… she doesn’t give a fig about the rules or social conventions, as you’ve seen. Women didn’t seem to care all that much that it’s not a man behind all that swagger and buckskin. They made do with what was available to them.
The rumour spread that she had… certain talents… So, they just kept coming back, even when the men came back into town. As it turns out, ladies love Holtzmann.”
”Please… I’m not sure I need to hear any more about Holtzmann’s talents. I had a pretty conservative upbringing and I just didn’t know that was an option.”
”It probably isn’t, in polite society. But people have more important things to worry about out here, so they look the other way. You’ll find that you can get away with a lot here that wouldn’t be acceptable in Michigan.”
Holtzmann came down the stairs with a sheepish look on her face.
”Sooo… I guess I got the dates mixed up and school starts tomorrow, not today?”
”Really, Jillian... You can’t have guests when you’re sharing your room… No visitors until you’re on your own, OK?”
Judging by the look of terror on Holtzmann’s face when Abby used her Christian name, she would obey.
”Look, Erin… I’m sorry, everything will be according to Hoyle from now on. At least today is clean sheets day…”
Erin downed her shot and gave Holtzmann an icy stare. Or, that was her intention. But since she’d never had whiskey before, what happened instead was a loud, undignified coughing, downing a glass of water and being supportively patted on the back by Holtzmann, which made it much harder to be mad.
That night, she demonstratively turned her back to Holtzmann in bed and stayed as far out on her edge as she could.
When Holtzmann told her goodnight, she answered with a cold ”Goodnight, Jillian.” and apparently Holtzmann got the message, because she stayed quiet as a mouse after that.
She had trouble sleeping, and she told herself it was because she was starting her new job tomorrow. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that her roommate had female bedfellows. It left a strange, hot feeling in the pit of her stomach that Erin couldn’t identify.
***
Big day
She got up at the crack of dawn and walked off to the town school to prepare for the arrival of the children. Sure, she was nervous and wanted to make a good impression on her first day, but the main reason was that she got tired of restlessly moving around in bed or staring at the ceiling. She couldn't shake the image of that woman kissing Holtzmann. It had looked so soft and so… decidedly non-decent at the same time. She had always imagined herself to be an open-minded person. One of her father's colleagues had been an unmarried man. Everyone was clear on why he had never married, even though no-one spoke of it. He'd been Erin's favorite of her parent’s friends. So… Why did it make her angry to think of Holtzmann kissing someone of the same sex?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a friendly-faced elderly woman, who knocked on the door frame as she walked in.
"I'm Mrs Potter from the School Board. I've come with advance payment for your first week. So sorry to hear about Miss Janine's, glad to hear Abby could put you up! So, you're rooming with that friend of hers? Quite a character, huh?"
The woman smiled widely at her and Erin nodded. Abby was obviously right: people here were used to Holtzmann.
”We’re so very glad to have you, dear. When Miss Dippold left to get married we all wished her well, but she sure is missed.”
Mrs Potter patted her cheek and said she must be on her way now. Erin tried to say something polite, but she was distracted by the envelope in her hand. Her money. Made from gainful employment. And she didn't have to give a cent of it to a husband or explain to anyone what she wanted to use it for. She teared up. For the first time in her life, she was her own person. Her own life and no one else's.
***
"Big day… Big, big day."
Erin realised she had said that out loud. She wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt as the first group of children arrived. It was obvious that their parents had instructed them to be on their best behaviour and under no circumstances scare the new teacher away. She felt a surge of unexpected tenderness as she saw boys struggling to keep water combed hair in place, with shirts buttoned all the way up, despite the heat, and girls trying to make their wide petticoats fit on the narrow seats and fidgety hands still. Erin adjusted the tiny bowtie holding her shirt together and took a deep breath before launching into her project of turning Ghost Town children into scholars and scientists.
At the end of the school day, Erin was surprised to see Holtzmann standing in the doorway.
She grinned and held one of Erin’s books up. She had brought them here as an inspiration for the students, even if they were way too young to understand the contents.
"Newton. Nice! Do you know physics?”
Erin walked up to the blackboard and jotted down the equation for the first law of thermodynamics.
”Ah. Big yes to that question, I see.”
”You too. Did you go to school?”
Not everyone did out here, Abby had warned her. Abby was from the big city too and had been to university, just like Erin. A relative had left her the hotel and she’d come out here for the freedom. But it was rare, especially for women.
”Not exactly. I had a mentor. Rebecca taught me everything I know.”
”She sounds like quite a woman if she taught you about Newton.”
”She is. Her husband was the mining engineer over in Tropeville, but Rebecca was the one with the real head for engineering.”
”Did she teach you how to fix all the stuff around Abby’s place too?”
”She showed me how machines work. When you get a feel for it, you can fix pretty much anything. Or build anything, for that matter.”
Holtzmann kept her company walking back to The Olde Fire Station. Somewhere along the way, Erin forgot that she was supposed to be mad at her, because the conversation was so interesting.
”There’s something about the ether theory that doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not sure it’s the right explanation.”
Holtzmann nodded.
”I hear you.”
Erin was surprised and delighted to find that Holtzmann comprehended every thought and theory she had. It was intoxicating, being understood, she wasn’t used to it. Erin began to see what Abby had meant now, about her being the smartest person she knew.
”So… what’s your weirdest theory?”
”I have a LOT of weird theories.”
”Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”
Holtzmann scratched the back of her neck and pondered the question.
”I have a feeling… that there might be something smaller than the atom. Some...other layer.”
Erin looked at her, wide-eyed. She'd thought about that too: what might lie beneath the atom.
When they got back to their room, Holtzmann took up her usual position in the window. She pulled something out of her pocket and hesitantly put it on the table.
”Promise not to laugh?"
"OK."
"It’s a blueprint for a horseless carriage.”
”A what now?”
"A self-propelling carriage. This one runs on steam, but I'm working on one that runs on a system of combustible propulsion."
"Wow… That's…"
"Ridiculous and improbable?"
"I was going to go with brilliant."
Erin had been the top of her class and one of the first women to study physics and math at university level in her hometown. Her professor had called her 'an asset to modern physics'. It had broken her heart that women weren't able to get degrees or doctorates. So, she might not understand every aspect of Holtzmann's drawing. But she knew enough to be certain that she was looking at the workings of a brilliant and unique mind.
"Holtzmann, you have to show these to someone who can help you apply them. With resources."
"I have a little set aside to build some prototypes, yield from a small claim I staked up in Yukon during the rush. It's probably ridiculous, but I have this dream of becoming an inventor one day."
"Holtz… You already are an inventor. This is ground breaking."
Holtzmann pulled out piles of drawings and showed her and Erin stared at them and tried to comprehend that she had run into a bona fide genius in the frontier outback. Excited, she did some calculations to show Holtzmann an idea for how she might proceed with an aspect of her prototype. Holtzmann looked at how her hands flew over the paper, jotting down rows and rows of numbers.
”You’re a WIZARD with numbers.”
Holtzmann made a noise like an explosion with a matching gesture.
”BOOM! Mind blown.”
”Maybe we can work on something together?”
Holtzmann eyes sparkled when she said yes, and she nodded excitedly. They talked half way through the night and Erin hung on to her every word.
***
Holtzmann was an annoying roommate. Sloppy, messy, disrespectful, kept odd hours and left weird gadgets lying around their already small room, making it feel even smaller. She danced around sometimes, for no apparent reason, getting in Erin’s way. Not to mention the gambling and drinking, which no well-behaved woman should engage in. And inviting female lovers to their bed when she was out. So, Erin got angry with her. Or, at least she tried.
”Holtz, can you please pick your clothes up from the floor? And does that dirty hat have to be on our bed?”
But her complaining was half-hearted. She couldn’t stop thinking about Holtzmann’s theories. When you understood the world like she did, some laundry on the floor didn’t seem that important.
***
Questions
Holtzmann says she's going away for a week, to take care of business in another town. Erin tells herself it's going to feel good to not be constantly in the company of others, that she’s thrilled to have some time to herself, to catch up on her reading. That she's looking forward to a week without Holtzmann's mess, noise and general eccentricity. Instead, she spends her nights helping Abby out behind the bar, lingering to avoid the quiet room that ironically seems smaller without her roommate. She doesn't sleep as well. She misses their talks.
***
Six days later, Erin sees a red and white paint coming down Main Street. Holtzmann is home early. She smiles when she sees the diminutive cowboy in the saddle, hat at a crazy angle as usual, long barrelled guns hanging low on her hips, a strange looking rifle holstered behind the saddle. The cowboy waves as she gets closer. Erin’s surprised to find how happy it makes her to see her annoying roommate. Has she… missed Holtzmann? She waves back and gets a radiant smile as a reward. Holtzmann is beautiful when she smiles: The pretty girl under that grubby hat should clash confusingly with her tough frontier image. But it doesn’t… The thought goes through her head that maybe she gets what those bargirls see in Holtzmann. She feels her cheeks heat up and she has to look away.
***
That night, she lets Holtzmann teach her how to play poker. She shouldn't, being a schoolteacher and all, but she can't get enough of her company. Holtzmann whispers in her ear that Patty has a tell when she plays, and after a few attempts, she sees it too. Abby never plays. Her face is an open book: she couldn't bluff if her life depended on it. Erin doesn't ask where Holtzmann's been or where she slept for the last six nights. If the answer is with a woman, she doesn't want to know.
Instead of going to sleep, Holtzmann turns to face her in their bed that night.
"Erin… Why did you come out here? I love the frontier, but it seems like you're used to way more comfort than Ghost Town can offer?"
Erin had expected people to ask. But so far, people here just seem to mind their own business. But she gets why Holtzmann wonders. Erin knows she's a strange bird in this town, unlike Holtzmann, who seems to be made for the frontier. She took a deep breath and let it out. It was still painful to talk about.
”I was married. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter that he didn’t exactly love me. That it was enough that he was kind. Then I found out that he wasn’t even kind. We went to a physics lecture together. I pointed out a pretty grave error in the calculations afterward and the lecturer made fun of me in front of the whole crowd, pretending I didn't know what I was talking about. My husband laughed along, even though he knew I was right. Someone asked if he knew me and he pretended he didn't. He turned his back on me during one of the most humiliating moment of my life. I couldn’t even be in the same room as him after that. My parents didn’t believe me. Said he was a good man. Still won't really talk to me after the scandal of the divorce.”
"I have some questions… Like why did you marry an idiot?"
Holtzmann smiled at her, but Erin had seen the sadness on her face during the story. She had a feeling that Holtzmann knew what she was talking about.
Just before she went to sleep, Holtzmann brushed her shoulder, a mere whisper of a touch.
"Erin? I'm glad you came to Ghost Town."
"Me too."
She realised as she said it that it was true. Ghost Town had become her home.
***
She wakes up to find Holtzmann close, almost touching her. She seemed to gravitate toward the other warm body in the bed. Holtzmann often moves around in her sleep. Erin doesn’t. But she doesn’t mind: she’s come to find the soft rustle of Holtzmann turning over and sometimes mumbling quietly in her sleep comforting. Her blond hair is resting on the pillow next to her and her neck is exposed. On an impulse, Erin leans in and inhales the scent of her skin. She would have recognised it anywhere. Calming and unsettling at the same time. Unsettling because it caused a kind of craving that Erin didn’t fully understand. Sleeping Holtzmann, with her calm face and flow of blond curls set free, was so very different from the regular Holtzmann, crackling with a seeming inexhaustible energy. Erin had discovered that she really liked them both.
***
When in Rome
The next day was bath day, which had turned into Erin’s favourite day. She hadn’t paid attention last time, but now it occurred to her that she had no idea how Holtzmann’s tub filled with water, or emptied, for that matter. She had seen no servants with water buckets, no complaining Benny or even Holtzmann doing it. As a woman of science, she could kick herself for not showing more curiosity.
She gaped at the sight of actual running water.
Erin walked up to the wall and stared at it, trying to locate where the sound was coming from.
"Wow… What are we talking about? Some sort of hypocaust system?"
"That's a good idea, actually, kind of wish I could say yes now. But nah, it's basically a rubber hose and a few pumps, nothing fancy."
"I'd say running water is pretty fancy."
"Glad you like it."
Holtzmann grinned at her. Erin was once again in awe of what she could do. She told her sternly to reign it in: she couldn't swoon like a woman in a too tight corset every time she showed her an accomplishment.
Erin had grown increasingly comfortable in her company. Drinking whiskey and walking around naked didn't seem so scandalous anymore. She decided it was time to challenge herself.
”When in Rome, I guess. Or not, since it isn't hypocaust based.”
She took a deep, shaky breath and let the blanket fall. Holtzmann’s eyes shot up at face level just a little too late, but Erin wasn’t offended. Holtzmann just wasn’t used to the kind of prim and proper she had been raised with. She didn’t mean to stare. Right?
She lowered herself into the tub and wrapped her arms protectively around herself.
"I haven't been… I haven't really been naked with anyone else. Not with someone who could, you know... see me. Not since I was a child and I can't even remember that."
She wasn’t sure why she shared something that intimate with someone she hardly knew. But there was something almost childlike about Holtzmann and her total disregard of convention, that made her feel she could tell her things without being judged. Holtzmann's eyebrows hiked up almost comically on her forehead.
"Seriously?
"My husband would turn the lights out when we… Or you know, there would be sleep attire involved.”
"He’s obviously a fool. You're beautiful."
Had her husband ever told her that? She wasn’t even sure now. She mumbled an embarrassed thank you. Erin tried not to gawk at Holtzmann naked, but she’d seen enough to know that she was gorgeous. Not only her face, but all of her. Erin wanted to know how she protected that milky skin from the sometimes-merciless sun out here. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t want Holtzmann to know she’d let her eyes linger longer than what was polite. Who was Holtzmann to call her beautiful, with that smile and those eyes? And that curly blond hair…
She touched a strand of it, careful not to let her hand slip and touch skin. That seemed far too intimate, considering where they were and what they were to each other.
”You have really nice hair."
Holtzmann shrugs.
"It mostly gets in the way. And it's sometimes to my advantage that people don't realise I'm a woman, so I keep it up."
”It’s beautiful.” Erin said stubbornly and lingered with the silky strand between her fingers. If Holtzmann was allowed to give compliments, so could she. She found it strangely endearing that Holtzmann was bad at receiving compliments, when she was so good at giving them.
***
The Rowan gang
In the following weeks, Erin keeps telling herself that she should look for a house. A place of her own to settle down in, or at least get a room somewhere more fitting of a school teacher than sharing a bed with a gunslinger above a saloon. She talks to Abby about it and Abby says she's welcome to stay as long as she wants and that she's glad to have her. Erin says that she doesn't want to inconvenience Holtzmann, but Abby just laughs and says that Holtzmann isn't easily inconvenienced. As long as you don't try to take her guns, whiskey or playing cards away and don't try to stop her from tinkering with pretty much anything that does and sometimes does not need fixing, or spill coffee on her blueprints, she's happy as a fly in sarsaparilla. Patty learned the latter the hard way, according to Abby.
So, Erin and Holtzmann settle into a rhythm. Holtzmann stops leaving her grubby hat on Erin's side of the bed and smoking indoors, because Erin hates it. Erin lets Holtzmann keep the window open at night, despite her irrational bee phobia.
Erin reminds herself to look for another place to stay every so often. But here's the thing with reminding yourself to do stuff: if you don't actually do it, nothing happens.
***
She was sitting at the bar, talking to Abby, when Holtzmann stormed in and slammed one of her guns down on the counter.
”The Rowan gang’s been spotted outside of Tropeville.”
For the first time since she'd met her, Abby looked scared.
"Cream and sugar. That is not good news."
She turned around and called out for Kevin to go get Patty. Erin knew then this was serious: if Abby didn't think she could manage something on her own, that was indeed bad news.
Holtzmann pulled a bag of nuts of her pocket and started chewing absentmindedly. Erin looked incredulously at her.
”How can you be eating right now?”
”You try to resist these salty nuggets... Want one?”
"No!"
She had settled in nicely and told herself she pretty much knew the ropes around Ghost Town now. She realised she had no idea what it really meant to live on the frontier, in a town that didn't even have its own sheriff.
***
Gunpowder
Three days later, she learned. The hard way.
She was walking down the street, discussing a student, with his mother who worried about his grades. Erin was trying to find a polite way to tell her that she was pretty sure that her son's talents weren't in academia, but that she could be proud of the fact that he could lift a calf straight off the ground with his bare hands, when she heard a deafening noise. A sort of harsh, metallic explosion. She turned around to locate it and when she turned her head back, her conversation partner was gone. Erin saw her crouched down behind a crate outside the grain merchant.
"Erin!"
She could have sworn she actually heard the bullet scream past her head, as Holtzmann slammed her into the ground.
"Stay down!"
She did. She had never in her life been this still, petrified by the chaos and mayhem that erupted around her. A sharp rock dug into her knee, but she didn’t dare move her leg. Not even when she was hit with wooden debris from an exploding container did she move. An agitated horse jumped straight over her, like she wasn't even there. Later, she would remember its domed, spotted belly in the corner of her eye, as she heard the fearsome noise of Holtzmann's guns somewhere close.
The first thing she became aware of when the deafening noise was over, was a strong, unpleasant taste of metal on the roof of her mouth. Someone, or something, approached through the white smoke and she instinctively curled up to protect herself. But it was Holtzmann, checking to see if she was OK. Erin felt an intense sense of relief as she threw her arms around her roommate: her eye in this terrifying hot, smoky metallic storm that swept through Ghost Town.
When she asked for whiskey, Abby didn't question her. She poured a shot of the good stuff for all of them. Erin felt her hand shaking as she lifted the glass. The smell of gunpowder was all over her, in her clothes and on her skin. She asked for another, to get the harsh taste out of her mouth, even though it burned in her throat.
Holtzmann and Abby were having an animated discussion about countermeasures. Nobody had died this time, but next time, they might not be so lucky.
Patty rushed in, hand at the ready on the grip of her Longline Special.
”Y’all alright?”
She sat down next to Holtzmann, who was restlessly playing with a worn pocket knife as the only sign that the events had affected her. She turned to Patty.
”Did you see anyone get shot? Wounded?”
Patty shook her head.
"Did they try to rob the bank?"
"Nuh-uh."
"So… Why would Mr. Cuckoopants shoot up a town and not steal anything or hurt anyone? Abby?"
"Beats me."
Erin slammed the empty shot glass down on the counter. She didn't mean to, not that hard.
"Sorry… But what, or who, is the Rowan gang?”
Abby sighed.
"Just your average local psycho. When he first came out here, he worked as a handyman at the old Mercado ranch outside of town, near the abandoned mine. Kept telling people it was haunted."
"That's actually how this town got its name. Back when the mine was still open, rumors said it was haunted,” Patty chimed in.
”When that was closed down, he tried to run for sheriff, but people laughed at him."
"Ain't nobody going to vote for some socially incompetent janitor half my size to run their town. Hell, I'd have a bigger chance at being elected sheriff that that man." Patty shook her head.
"You'd make a great sheriff, Patty."
"Thanks, Holtzy."
Abby continued.
"Not sure that their actual pick was much better. But Rowan was furious and left town. When he came back, he'd recruited some of the worst villains and crooks this side of the Mississippi river. Dead Man Dan Tucker, Pilgrim Pete Shaw, Shadows Jones..."
"Why ’shadows’?"
Holtzmann folded the pocket knife back up and put it away before answering.
”Tall enough to be someone’s afternoon shadow.”
Abby continued:
"There's even some woman traveling with them who likes to throw knives at people. Someone heard him called her Gertrude, but that's all we know, except for the fact that everyone in that bunch is madder than an old wet hen, so no reason to suspect that she's any better", Abby added. "And, more importantly, we have no idea what they're after. We kind of hoped they had moved on, since nobody's seen them in months. Apparently not."
Holtzmann turned to Erin.
”Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
She shook her head.
”Ride a horse?”
”I’m… afraid of horses, actually.”
”We’re going to have to change both of those things, fast. We’ll saddle up early tomorrow morning.”
Erin swallowed and nodded. Holtzmann made sense. She didn’t look forward to it one bit, but she did make sense. She had been warned the frontier wasn’t safe. Apparently, she was about to find that out for herself.
Chapter 2: Pistols at dawn
Chapter Text
The following morning, Holtzmann threw a pair of worn buckskin pants on their bed.
”Makes it easier to ride.”
Erin looked at them with hesitation.
”I’ve never worn pants before.”
”You’re going to want to skip the corset as well. Not convenient in the saddle.”
The soft leather felt strange against her skin. Comfortable and a little bit intrusive. She wasn’t used to wearing anything that clung to her legs. Holtzmann had given her one of her shirts as well. Going without a corset felt decadent, but so comfortable. She might get ideas in her head about going without permanently. She put the fabric to her nose and inhaled. It smelled comfortingly of Holtzmann. She had noticed lately how more and more of their things smelled like both of them, merged.
Holtzmann stared at her when she came out from behind the screen. She made no effort to hide it.
”You look…”
”...ridiculous?”
Erin sighed. Not everyone could pull off dressing like Holtzmann.
”That was not what I was going to say…”
Erin felt strange dressed like this. She had never worn anything like it: tight fitting, revealing. Men’s clothing, technically. Holtzmann’s eyes on her made herself conscious. But at the same time, wearing pants made her feel free and unrestrained.
Patty’s handsome farmhand was waiting for them on the porch with his usual vacant smile.
"Erin. Ready to hark a foss? Snark an iron?"
Holtzmann sighed.
"Kevin… Sweet, sweet Kev. I've told you, it's 'fork a hoss'. And it's 'bark', OK buddy?"
"Sure thing, boss."
"Patty's your...Oh, never mind."
Holtzmann turned to Erin.
"Patty showed Kevin a book about old-timey frontier slang. It did not turn out well."
Erin was glad that there was at least one person worse at coping with the realities of the frontier than she was.
She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the giant tied up outside the saloon, next to Holtzmann's fiery paint.
”Oh, OK… BIG horse… Big horse…”
She took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking.
Then she noticed the amused look on Holtzmann’s face.
”That one's Patty’s. He won't let anyone but her handle him. I think it’s better if you ride with me the first time. Handling a horse on your own is a tall order on your first ride.”
Holtzmann jumped up on the little pinto’s back.
”Kevin?”
Before Erin had time to gather herself, she was grabbed, yanked up and gracelessly deposited behind Holtzmann by the big man.
”Hold on tight.”
She did. She suspected she held on tight enough for Holtzmann to have issues breathing, but still felt terrified when the horse started moving.
When she felt safe enough to relax a little, she realised how close they were. How she could feel her body heat against her chest and stomach through the soft material of her unfamiliar, borrowed clothes. No sharp angles. She shouldn't be thinking about it: she should be worried that a gang of outlaws were a threat to their safety, but she hadn’t been this close to someone since before she got divorced and hardly even then. Her husband hadn't been a tactile man.
After a while, she relaxed enough to notice how Holtzmann’s firm backside created a soft pressure between her spread legs. An image of how Holtzmann’s lady friend had touched her and kissed her so casually and sensually at the same time flashed through her mind. Embarrassed, she noticed how her body responded. She shifted subtly closer to her fellow rider, craving the touch.
Holtzmann looked back over her shoulder.
”If you’re afraid, grab some mane to steady yourself.”
”I trust you way more than I do the horse, I’ll hold on to you, thank you.”
These strange new clothes seem to heighten her awareness of her body. She shifted and bit back a groan as her nipples, unprotected by a corset, scraped against the soft chemise and worn leather of Holtzmann’s jacket and hardened. Holtzmann asked if she was OK and she answered yes with a voice she didn’t recognise. It felt good. It really, really wasn’t supposed to.
They arrived at a big empty field with a row of assorted debris at one end. She realised this was Holtzmann's private shooting range. An empty barrel looked like it had been pierced by hundreds of bullets. Holtzmann unpacked the saddle bags and laid assorted weapons out on a horse blanket.
"OK, let me walk you through how this puppy works."
"That barrel looks longer than a regular one?"
Erin was no fan of either violence or guns, but she had to admit that she was fascinated by what Holtzmann could do. There had to be a reason even Patty said that Holtzmann scared her sometimes.
"Yup. It’s a Colt Longline Holtzmann special.”
”Holtzmann special? They make those...?”
”After a fashion. I've made it.”
”You’ve made this? From scratch?”
”Not quite. I used a standard model as a base and then made some...modifications.”
Erin gaped when Holtzmann showed her what that gun could do. She didn’t know such precision and speed was possible. She threw a coin in the air and pierced it easily. It was an extremely scary weapon. And beautiful: crushed glass like pieces of yellow diamond was embedded in the handle.
Holtzmann let her hold it in her hand, safety on, just to get a feel for it. Erin could feel its power even when it was resting. She didn’t necessarily want to learn to shoot a gun and she certainly didn’t want to know how to use it on a human being. But… there was a weapon in Holtzmann’s collection that intrigued her. Dark steel, and something that looked like a red rose engraved on the barrel. She reached out to touch it.
”NO! Not that gun. It’s not finished yet. It’s yours when it is.”
Holtzmann rummaged through her pockets.
”In the meantime, take this.”
”This” was the beat-up pocket knife. Not what Erin had imagined when Holtzmann said she would teach her how to use a weapon…
”This is the frontier and no woman should walk around unarmed.”
”Yeah… I know how that works.”
Holtzmann gave her a gun with a worn handle. Much smaller than the fearsome weapon she had touched before.
"I think we should start out together, just to be safe."
Holtzmann got behind her and reached around Erin with the gun.
”'Kay, put your hands on top of mine? Do you feel it?”
Holtzmann tightened her pull on the trigger slightly. Erin could feel the increased tension in the mechanism. She closed her eyes. Holtzmann’s arms around her were warm and comforting. Her curves felt good against her touch-starved body. She could feel her soft breasts against her back and the contour of her hips pressing into her own. She felt her get up on tiptoe, so she could see over Erin’s shoulder and aim. Her soft cheek felt good against her neck.
”Yes.”
Erin heard how she sounded out of breath and told herself sternly to get her act together. Holtzmann was trying to teach her to shoot a gun, nothing else. The shock of the aggressive recoil when she fired was a huge contrast to how soft she made her feel inside.
"Now, a bullet can bounce and change direction or cause explosions. Like that time you almost got shot, remember?”
”I remember…”
Holtzmann kept giving her directions and Erin did her best to retain it all. She tried not to think about now weird it was, that she was now training to be a gunslinger as well as a scientist and teacher.
"Holtz…?"
"Mmhmm?"
"When you say that gun is mine when it's finished… Are you making that...for me?"
"Mmhmm."
"Wow. But do you think I'm ready for a gun like that? You won't even let me shoot yours."
"You’ll be ready, I'll make sure of that. Besides, I'm making you that gun so you never have to shoot anybody.”
”What do you mean?”
”That's a crazy hair trigger of a gun. Anyone who sees you with a longline special in your hand will assume you’re a crack shot who knows her guns and think twice about firing at you in the first place. If you do have to fire a warning shot, the trigger is extremely sensitive and quick, so your bullet will leave the chamber before theirs, it’s just physics. But it’ll make you seem like you know what you’re doing. Also means you have to be very careful with it.”
”...says the least careful woman in the West.”
”There are things I’m careful with…”
”Yeah. I can see that. Thank you, Holtz.”
Erin sometimes did things on impulse. Like kissing Holtzmann on the cheek.
***
As they rode home, Erin was exhausted, sweaty and had a blister in a very undignified place, as well as on her trigger finger. Holtzmann had made her ride the horse alone and after an hour, Erin was more convinced than ever that the animal hated her. She leaned her tired head on Holtzmann's shoulder. Her teacher reached back and put her hand on her thigh and caressed it supportively.
"How're you holding up?"
Holtzmann had gotten increasingly tactile after the night Erin had shown her she was comfortable enough to be naked with her. And so had Erin, if she were to be honest with herself. Holtzmann was probably just touching Erin because that's what she did, not because she was special. Erin wondered about Holtzmann’s women. There was more than one, both Abby and Patty had confirmed it. So: Holtzmann was a player and a cad. She told herself to be careful. But she didn't want to be careful. She wanted Holtzmann to leave her hand where it was.
And, for the first time, she admitted to herself that she wanted Holtzmann to kiss her like she kissed the woman in the red blouse...
***
Whiskey lullaby
That night, Erin got riotously drunk for the first time in her life. She didn't mean to, she just loved the way the rich, dark whiskey made her feel and the way having too many shots of it made euphoria course through her veins. It made her feel like that woman who kissed Holtzmann: brazenly confident, seeing something she wanted and going after it. Also like the other woman in the street that same afternoon: the one Holtzmann looked at with bedroom eyes when Erin leaned out the window. Small, curvy, black hair, gorgeous. She remembered every detail, and hated it.
Abby gently took the bottle away after a few hours, when she noticed how Erin had trouble sitting up straight.
"I'm cutting you off. I know you don't believe me right now, but it's for your own good."
She grumbled and complained for a while, saying she was perfectly sober, even though she could hear from her own voice that she was nothing of the sort. Her complaining stopped when she felt increasingly queasy.
"Don't worry, I got this."
Holtzmann gently coaxed her off of her precarious place on the barstool and off to their room. Erin objected to save her own dignity, but her heart wasn't in it.
"Come on, we have to get you to bed. You need to sleep this off."
"Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
Holtzmann just shook her head, like she had no idea what she was talking about.
"Drink some water for me, OK?"
Holtzmann sat on the edge of the bed until she did.
"Try to sleep. I'll sit with you for a while."
”Don't let me keep you. I'm sure you'd rather be with your lady friends. Plural!”
”I haven’t seen Laura in ages. Or Julieta.”
Holtzmann’s voice was so soft, Erin almost didn’t hear her.
Drunkenly, she slapped Holtzmann’s arm away when she tried to touch her.
”Liar. I saw you talk to one of them earlier in the street. Liar…”
Erin heard how petulant she sounded, but she was too drunk to care.
”Yeah… That was more like getting screamed at. But I haven’t seen them, seen them.”
”You haven’t…?”
”Nope.”
Erin stopped fighting her.
There was a warm hand rubbing soothing circles between her shoulder blades as she drifted off to sleep. It felt good.
”Apparently, I’m in love with someone else…”
But Erin doesn’t hear Holtzmann’s whisper in the dark room, she’s fast asleep.
***
The next morning, Erin wakes up half on top of Holtzmann, with the worst headache of her life. She feels way too sick to feel mortified about apparently wrapping herself around her roommate in her sleep. It makes it worse that Holtzmann is sweet to her and holds her hair as she throws up in a bucket that her roommate apparently realised they needed, right next to the bed. Like a gentleman, she tiptoes up and puts the stinky mess outside the door.
Erin realised how little she’s wearing and how dishevelled she looked. Holtzmann must have helped her undress. It was mortifying. She felt her stomach lurch at the thought that she might have...
”We didn’t… Did we?”
What if she had thrown herself at Holtzmann in the middle of the night? Made an even bigger fool of herself than she thought?
”No!”
Holtzmann looks almost angry, and definitely offended.
”How can you ask me that? I wouldn’t… Not while you were in that condition!”
Erin’s head is throbbing, and she feels a flash of annoyance at Holtzmann for giving her a hard time. How can she expect her to know, when there are strange women in their bed all the time, for all Erin knows? She remembers the beautiful brunette in the street and feels a hot anger in the pit of her stomach.
”I’m sorry, but you do have a bit of a reputation.”
It's a mean and hateful thing to say, but she feels awful and lashed out before she could stop herself.
”I don’t have a reputation for THAT. I would never take liberties a with a drunk woman against her will!”
Erin had it on the tip of her tongue to say that it might not have been against her will at all, to the contrary. But Holtzmann storms out and slams the door. Too late, Erin realised that she had really hurt her.
She spent a miserable day trying to read and eat greasy food that Abby brought to cure the hangover. Her stomach refused to accept anything but sarsaparilla. All she could think of was Holtzmann.
Her roommate stumbled back in close to midnight, reeking of whisky and cheap perfume that was definitely not hers. Erin’s apologies died in her mouth as her roommate silently took her shirt off and dipped a cloth in their wash basin to remove the traces of another woman from her skin. She skipped her usual goodnight and curled up with her back to Erin. Erin listened to her snore softly as she cried quietly into her pillow.
***
She hears Holtzmann sneak out early next morning. The soft click of the door feels like a slap.
She meets Patty downstairs. She's come in for some breakfast before going to get supplies, with the less than able help of Kevin.
"Did something happen between you and Holtzy yesterday? Girl came down face like a cloud and spent the day at Boxcar Joes poker game. Did some heavy drinking, by the looks of it? Holtzmann ain't been down Boxcar Joe's in ages. Abby and I couldn't get two words out of her when she came back.”
Erin felt terrible. She’d hurt someone who’d done nothing but look out for her.
"Not sure poker was Holtzmann's main focus yesterday. I think she might have had an appointment with a woman."
"What makes you say that?"
"Holtzmann doesn't use rose water or lavender perfume…"
Patty guffaws heartily.
”Yeah, that would be from getting slapped a bunch of times with a perfumed glove. Seems not all her lady friends are fans of her having a new woman to warm her bed.”
”But we’re not… Holtzmann and I don’t…”
"I hear you, but they don't know that! All they see is some woman who waltzed into Ghost Town out of nowhere and shares her bed and gets to stay the night, which none of them ever do, I'll tell you that."
"They...don't?"
"Nuh-uh. That’s nothing but fun for Holtzmann, she's never been serious about any of them."
"So, I've ruined Holtzmann's love life. That's great."
"Nah. She just lost interest. None of them were a match for Holtzy intellectually. You're the only one except for me and Abby who even gets what she's talking about."
"It's none of my business who Holtzmann sleeps and doesn’t sleep with, of course."
"Mmmhmmm."
Patty looked like she might laugh when she said it.
***
Erin goes to look for Holtzmann and finds her on the porch steps with Abby. She tries not to eavesdrop. But she can't help it when she hears her name. She can't make out the rest of the sentence.
Holtzmann leaned her head on Abby's shoulder.
"I've never been… I mean, not like this."
Abby stroked her back soothingly.
"I know, buddy."
They sit like that for a few minutes before Abby goes back in. Holtzmann stays. She picks listlessly with a cigarillo but doesn't light it.
"Holtz? Can we talk?"
Holtzmann shrugs, but Erin sits down next to her anyway, even though she still won't look at her.
"I'm sorry."
Carefully, she touches her hand. Aligns her fingers with Holtzmann's.
"It was a horrible thing to say. I didn't mean it and I'm really, really sorry."
Holtzmann's hand responds and her fingers braid with Erin's.
"OK?"
Holtzmann squeezes her hand.
"OK."
She says it again. And again, until that night, when Holtzmann squeezes her hand again and says that she gets it. Erin says good, because she's going to say it until she believes her.
***
Transparent
The following week, Holtzmann takes her riding and shooting every afternoon after work. She still jokes about hating horses, but she has to admit, she's getting better at it every day. She rides on her own by Saturday. Holtzmann borrowed Abby's kind natured Dumpling, who doesn't throw even the most amateurish of riders off and Erin finds him easier to handle than Holtzmann's fast, hot-headed little Ecto. She's almost disappointed with the success. She misses sitting close to Holtzmann, arms wrapped around her.
Her shooting is improving too: yesterday she managed to hit a rusty old can twice in the same place. Holtzmann said that she would let her shoot her longline special today.
She sees Abby and Patty in the distance and waves. They’re wrapped up in conversation.
***
”You think they know?”
”Do I think Holtz knows she wants to be more than roommates with Erin? Oh yes.”
”Yeah, but...that whole thing?”
Patty gestures at Holtzmann, who smiles at Erin, bows in an exaggerated manner and kisses her hand. Erin looks like she’s pretending to be annoyed, but obviously isn’t.
”Does she know she’s in love, you mean?”
”Does Erin know?”
”I offered her a room of her own. She declined, said she was fine with sharing with Holtzmann.”
Patty’s eyebrows hiked up her forehead.
”Really?”
”Yeah… And have you noticed how she doesn’t seem to be house hunting either?”
”Damn. Those two are just so transparent.”
***
I’ll waltz you, my darling
Erin had just meant to rest her eyes for a few minutes but was woken by Holtzmann over an hour later. She hoped that she hadn't noticed that she was on her side of the bed. She liked the way her pillow and her sheets smelled.
Erin owned a really nice corset, that she only wore for special occasions and tonight’s barn dance definitely counted. It was winter white silk and surprisingly comfortable considering what it achieved. Not comfortable enough to sleep in, however. She couldn’t believe how long she had been out for. Now she had to hurry to get ready. She needed it tightened more, if she was to fit into the dress.
"Would you help me with this?"
Holtzmann froze.
"I mean, I can ask Abby if you don't want to..."
"Nono, it's fine."
She was pretty good at tightening it herself, Abby was even better. Corsets were not Holtzmann's domain. But Erin had caught her eyes on her in the little mirror above their wash basin. She just couldn't get enough of how Holtzmann looked at her when she wore it.
Erin hears a motion behind her and feels Holtzmann’s tentative hands. She struggles a little with the binding, her hands less secure than normally. Her fingers brush the exposed skin between the lacing and Erin shivers. She loves the way she touches her; like she’s precious.
As she changes behind the screen, all she can think about is if Holtzmann will like her in her best dress. It’s more revealing than what she normally wears, and it makes her feel beautiful. She wants Holtzmann to keep looking at her like she did when Erin caught her in the mirror.
"Do I look OK?"
As she comes out from behind the screen, there's that look again, the one Holtzmann gave her when she walked into The Olde Fire station the first time.
"I'd talk to you at Boxcar Joe's illegal poker game.”
Is Holtzmann blushing? Does she even do that? Erin chalks it down to the lighting. But when she looks in the mirror a few minutes later, Holtzmann’s darkened eyes follow her around the room and she touches her lips absentmindedly.
Holtzmann changes into a coffee colored, tailored jacket Erin didn’t know she owned and hung up her buckskin. The pants that go with it are tighter than what she normally wears. Erin follows her hands when she buckles her gun belt back on, holsters riding low on her hips. She even puts a comb to her wild hair. There will be no man more handsome than Holtzmann at that dance tonight, and no girl prettier. As she tugs the pinstriped collar in place and puts her gold watch in its pocket, Erin’s heart races and she doesn’t have to ask herself if there’s blushing going on.
***
She almost doesn’t recognise Patty in a dress, striking in red and a head taller than a lot of men in the room. She tells her and Abby they look wonderful and that’s all she had time for before being asked to dance for the first time.
Holtzmann doesn't dance. Erin gets why. The local men probably feel strange about asking a woman to dance that wears a suit better than they do. None of Holtzmann's pretty barmaids are there. Selfishly, Erin is immensely relieved that Holtzmann isn't back in their good graces.
Holtzmann's eyes follow her around the dance floor. Erin looks at her more than she looks at her dance partner. She wants her to ask her to dance. She knows it probably won't happen: dancing with another woman might be too much, even for the tolerant people of Ghost Town. But she challenges her with her eyes, she can't help herself.
Erin drinks, laughs and dances around the barn floor, over and over again. She hasn’t danced in ages; she’s missed it. Every few minutes, she looks for Holtzmann in the crowd, so she won’t lose sight of her. She sees her from across the room, talking to a man who she plays poker with sometimes, even though Erin’s noticed how Holtzmann seems to be gambling less and less lately. She winks at her and gives her a two-fingered salute. Erin had never thought the phrase ”weak in the knees” can mean something literal. It can.
Dance with me. She dares her with her eyes. She doesn’t. But Erin can feel her eyes on her even when she moves across the floor with her back to her.
It’s almost midnight and Erin doesn’t know how it happened. Her sore feet do though and they’re telling her it’s time to go before she turns into a pumpkin.
Erin walks over and touches Holtzmann's hand.
"Walk me home?"
A parent of one of her students comes up and asks her to dance. She has a vague feeling that the handsome widower is trying to court her, he's talked to her in the street a few times. Quitting her job to get married isn't in the cards for Erin, now or ever, so she barely notices him. She feels she ought to be polite and dance with him anyway, a good relationship with the parents are important.
He's a good dancer. He knows the steps and doesn't hold her too-close-to-be-polite, like some of the men tries to do.
She looks for Holtzmann when they're done, but she's gone. She politely declines a second dance and mumbles an excuse about needing some air. Despondently, she thinks Holtzmann has already left, when she sees a shadow outside the door. A lonely figure leaned against the wall. Erin goes to her.
”I thought you'd left?”
Holtzmann shrugged.
”I felt...restless.”
She turned and looked at Erin with a strange expression on her face.
”You looked like you had fun. John Roberts is certainly an… eligible bachelor.”
Erin didn't want to talk about John Roberts. Or any of the men in town for that matter.
”I did. I hadn’t danced in ages, I love dancing. You don’t?”
”I do, actually. But there’s no way I’m dancing with any of those men."
The sound of the fiddle sifted softly out through the barn door. Erin wasn't sure what made her ask, but she had the feeling it had something to do with how blue Holtzmann's eyes was in the moonlight, and the strange longing in them.
"Dance with me?"
Holtzmann bows in an exaggerated fashion and Erin takes her hand. Holtzmann leads, of course, even though she’s shorter. Erin smiles and rolls her eyes. Holtzmann can’t help herself. At first, it’s fun. Easy going. She twirls her around and Erin follows. Holtzmann is a good dancer, great even. But she doesn’t want it to be easy going. She doesn't want anything between them to be a joke anymore. She stops following and steps into Holtzmann’s personal space. Her hand goes from shoulder to neck and buries itself in the soft strands of her hairline. Holtzmann puts her arms around her and pulls her close: much closer than Erin let any of the men come tonight. Erin can't even pretend to herself that they’re dancing anymore. She looks into her eyes and...
”THE ROWAN GANG IS BURNING DOWN THE BARN!”
A loud voice cries out to someone in the street. They jump apart and break into a run.
The fire has started on the other side, around the corner from the main doors. Patty's at the frontline, shouting commands as townspeople carry buckets of water. Holtzmann has built a contraption for the water reservoir, but it malfunctions. Erin's heart is in her throat as she sees her scale the reservoir wall to see if she can fix it. She just shakes her head. It's been sabotaged. Abby and Holtzmann looks at each other and Erin sees on their faces that the barn is lost and it's just a question of saving the rest of Ghost Town now.
Patty shouts and points and they see a group of riders in the distance. They fire shots into the air, seemingly taunting them. Holtzmann and Patty throw themselves on their horses and follow, but it's too late: the riders had too much of a disadvantage. They come back dusty and frustrated half an hour later. Erin doesn't say it out loud, but she's glad they didn't catch up. She really doesn't want her friends to be overpowered in a shoot-out with desperados trying to burn their town down for reasons they didn't know.
"This night sure has been a bag of nails," Holtzmann ground out between clenched teeth.
***
Haunting
The following night, the sound of a child crying is heard through Ghost Town and a white apparition is seen by several people. Abby calls them in for an emergency meeting. Erin had already spent the day explaining to her students that there's no such thing as an actual ghost.
A man comes into the saloon and asks for Abby.
”I’m Ed Mulgrave Jr. This is my farm hand, Garrett. Tell them what you saw, Garrett.”
"It was out near the Aldridge estate. I...."
”A ghost. He saw a ghost. I believe it made him soil himself.”
”Jesus… I did not!”
”He did. He came riding back saying his pants were molasses.”
Abby promises to look into it. Another man comes in and whispers in Abby’s ear. Then Mrs Potter from the school board, and her daughter.
Erin asks the stagecoach driver who came in late last night to see if he'd seen something.
"Nah, Mercado ranch is further out than I wanna go."
"But you must have seen something coming into town? There were sightings all over yesterday? Maybe one of your passengers did?"
"I don't drive psychos. And I ain't afraid of no ghosts!"
He walked away in a huff.
"Actually, that's a double negative, that means that you are afraid of ghosts…" Erin called after him. The school teacher in her couldn't resist.
They gathered round the table and compared the stories of hauntings around Ghost Town.
"What are we saying? That ghosts are real?"
"Of course not. But that doesn't mean it isn't a problem. All it takes is for people to believe that ghosts are real."
Abby turned to Erin.
"Ghost Town was abandoned for a few decades. Rumour had it, it was haunted. Specifically the old mine and the old Mercado Ranch close by. Probably just sound effects caused by the abandoned mine shafts, but it still made people stay away. "
Patty shook her head.
"That place has such a weird reputation that people just believed whatever they heard."
On a hunch, Erin asks Abby for a map of Ghost Town. She marks the different sounds and sightings. Holtzmann looks at her, wide eyed. She pulls out maps of the old mine, the first one, from when Ghost Town was just a glint in some prospector's eye. She slams her hand down on the spidery diagram of abandoned shafts.
”Believe this.”
They stare at each other as it aligns: the sightings and the old mine shafts.
Abby goes to see the mayor, to tell him of their theory of staged hauntings. Or, technically, she sees the mayor but its Jennifer, his tall dark and handsome wife she's talking to. Everyone knows that she's the one who decides what does and does not get done.
She comes back with the same message as always when the mayor of Ghost Town is concerned: he's more interested in keeping up appearances than solving an actual problem.
”If the mayor is instrumental in sending people out there, he has to admit that there's trouble in Ghost Town. Once again, we're on our own, ladies."
"I'll saddle up the horses."
Holtzmann took something out of her saddle bag and handed to Erin.
"Don't forget this."
"It's ready?"
"Yup."
Holtzmann hands her a holster; the leather is new enough to creak and object when Erin puts it on. It feels heavy around her hips. Commanding. She looks like a woman you don't want to cross, not a small-town school teacher, in her Colt Longline Holtzmann Special.
When they exit the saloon, Holtzmann hands her the reigns of a horse she's never seen before. She assumes it's borrowed by someone who lost money to Holtzmann in poker, that's how a lot of stuff enters her roommate’s life. It's the first time she'll ride without supervision, with Holtzmann focussed on something else. The white hairs on its muzzle talks reassuringly of an age where most horses have lost interest in bucking their riders out of the saddle. It stands patiently still as she mounts. She realises she can, for all intents and purposes, ride a horse now.
***
Mine
It’s quiet when they arrive. An abandoned carriage is parked near the decrepit entrance. There's a strange contraption next to it, looking for all the world like something Holtzmann might have built. There are additional contraptions further along the abandoned mine.
"I guess this explains the shootout and the barn fire. Sure, Rowan enjoys scaring people for the sake of it, but there was probably quite a lot of noise setting this up."
Patty pulls her rhinestoned Longline Special out of its holster, but Holtzmann stops her.
”That’s basically a huge bomb. There’s a good chance the whole mine might blow up if we’re not careful.”
Holtzmann actually looks worried as she says it: a rare occurrence.
”I vote we don’t shoot at that, then.” Patty sounded reasonably exasperated.
"But why would anyone place a bomb near an old mineshaft? The chance of there being remnants of gas and other flammables is high."
"I think that might be the point."
Erin sees from Holtzmann's face that's she's found the missing piece of the Rowan puzzle.
"Hauntings and an explosion? Sounds like a pretty effective way to keep people far away from this place."
"But the old shafts go all the way to Ghost Town and under City Hall and…"
Abby's voice trailed off. The realisation that Rowan literally wanted to blow Ghost Town up gave all of them pause.
They decided to try and sneak up on Rowan and who else might be inside the mine through another entrance. Using the main one would almost certainly lead to an unevenly matched gunfight, that they all agreed should be avoided.
But then Kevin rode in...
Before they could stop him, he yelled that he was there to save them and had decided to "join the gang". He was carrying on old civil war musket, upside down.
Abby, Patty and Holtzmann started gesticulating to make him shut up, but it was too late as the outlaws of the Rowan gang came up and out, into the sunlight.
Erin could taste the familiar unpleasant metallic smoke on her tongue, as the fire from a multitude of weapons made her eyes water. But she didn't freeze, like last time she was in a gunfight.
She fired her Holtzmann Special for the first time. She knows that if they had more time, Holtzmann would have walked her through it. Erin was a mail-order cowboy, if there ever was one: a person with a look and equipment they weren’t fit to handle. But she trusted Holtzmann. Trusted her to give her the weapon to get her through this.
The recoil was fearsome against her palm. But it felt good. The aim of the gun was awe inspiring. She was hit by sudden inspiration and aimed for a worm-eaten wooden beam near the entrance. Jaw hanging, she watched Gertrude and Pilgrim Pete fell backward in an arch, down into a hollow beneath as the ground collapsed beneath them.
”What the hell…?”
Erin stared at her new gun with a mixture of fear and awe.
Abby pulled a small, round object out and threw it up into the air. A big explosion sent several of the outlaws flying in the direction of the mine. Holtzmann had obviously showed her the blueprint for a more effective hand grenade.
Kevin tries to run, stumbles over a rock, falls over and is still. Abby quickly bends down to check on him and gives a thumbs up. He's out, but still alive. Erin and Abby manage to drag him off to the side with some effort, while Patty covers them.
Erin hears Holtzmann releasing the safety of her gun and Erin looked at her. Holtzmann winks at her and licks the barrel of her gun. Anything but this should have been on her mind in the middle of a gun fight. Anything but how Holtzmann commanded the situation, how confident she looked handling her weapons, getting down on one knee to fire two guns at the same time in a hail of bullets that didn't even come close to hitting her. Anything but how much she wanted her and how her heart races when she watched her.
Tall, lanky Shadows Jones goes down, clutching his knee from one of Holtzmann's bullets. She never shoots to kill; she told Erin that she was proud of the fact that she had never had to kill a man, even when she was young and out prospecting in lawless territory during the rush.
Erin called to her to be careful and Holtzmann winked at her.
"Don't worry, babe. I have a...pocket advantage."
Erin was about to ask what that meant, when a small, red haired man appeared almost in their midst. There's another entrance to the mine, overgrown to the point of invisibility.
She couldn't believe that this was the feared Rowan. This pale little man seemed harmless, even if there was no mistaking the sullen anger on his face. He smiled the smile of a lunatic and took a device out of his pocket. Erin had suspicions about what it might be.
Holtzmann obviously already knew.
"Almost forgot my new toys."
She moved, and two fine calibre shots were fired from within the pockets of her jacket. The look of surprise on Rowan's face as he fell backwards would have been comical, under other circumstances. He fails and tries to find purchase on any of the surfaces around him. He finds it.
Erin sees him grabbing Abby's jacket and watches her lose her balance and go over. It’s a split-second decision to tie a piece of rope around her waist and follow down the dark shaft.
And she's falling. It feels like minutes, even though it’s barely a second. She cries out when the rope runs out and the noose yanks hard at her, making pain shoot through her midsection. But she’s OK. There doesn’t seem to be anything broken.
Then she sees Abby, precariously balanced on a narrow ledge, Rowan hanging onto her leg, trying to pull her down into the mine with him.
She hears steps above.
”Abby? Erin?”
Holtzmann’s voice is thin with worry.
Erin calls back and Holtzmann and Patty let out whoops of joy. The thought occurs to her that she might bring the whole mine down around her, but she still doesn't hesitate before pulling the trigger. She's more prepared for the recoil this time and doesn't lose her balance. Rowan howls in pain and anger and descends into darkness. He'll likely survive the fall. If not, Erin's still not sorry she saved her friend.
She reaches out for Abby, who gratefully grabs her arm. Heart in her throat, she loosens the rope, not daring to look down into the seemingly bottomless pit below. She tries not to think about how Abby’s standing on that ledge that can break at any moment.
”Patty? You think you can pull us back up?”
”What now?”
”I’m going to need you and Holtzmann to pull us back up!”
She hears Patty say some select swearwords to Holtzmann. Erin turned to Patty with this, since ”you and Holtzmann” means 80% Patty and 20% Holtzmann. Holtzmann is brilliant, brave and can hit anything with a gun. But the woman she loves is small enough for Patty to pick up and carry around like a ragdoll, Erin’s seen her do just that. There it was. She’s said it to herself: she loves Holtzmann.
She can just about make out Abby's face.
”I can’t believe you came down here for me.”
”I know we haven’t known each other for long. But I feel like you’re my best friend already. I’m not going to leave you.”
Patty is barking commands at them. Stand close together, hold on tight, don’t move once we start pulling, keep away from the walls.
Erin’s afraid; of course she is. But she has faith in Patty’s determination and Holtzmann’s ingenuity if that fails. The first yank makes her and Abby wince. She hears Patty call Rowan and his people a lot of colorful things while she pulls. The light becomes brighter and brighter and with once final, mighty pull, they’re over the edge.
Both Patty and Holtzmann are shiny with sweat. Patty is folded over, trying to catch her breath.
Holtzmann throws herself in Erin’s arms and Erin presses her cheek against Holtzmann’s sweaty one and swears to herself that she’ll come clean and tell her how she feels, one of these days.
They all hug and celebrate, incredulous that they actually did it: they saved Ghost Town.
***
Abby goes back into town to notify the police. Erin, Holtzmann, Patty and a dazed Kevin stay to monitor the outlaws, in case some of them manages to figure out how to get themselves back up without access to any equipment, rope or Patty.
She returns a few hours later with a dapper, grey haired man and his deputies.
”I’m chief deputy US Marshal Paul Feig. I’m here for the prisoners.”
Holtzmann gave him a lazy, two fingered salute.
”They’re in very safe keeping at the bottom of the mining shaft”, Abby added briskly.
”Mining shaft? How disappointing, I’ve just had this uniform steamed and pressed.”
He tipped his pristine hat.
”Great work, ladies.”
Abby smiled.
”You too, Marshall.”
***
Erin looks at the gun before she puts it back in her belt. Admires it. As frightening as it is, it’s also beautiful. Holtzmann is an artist as well as an inventor. She has to make an effort not to touch it all the time, the smooth metal feels good under her fingers. She gets why people like them: they make you feel powerful. But the thought of hurting or killing another person is too scary. She doesn’t know why she turned it upside down, she probably just wanted to see what it looked like. The tiny letters on the frame were barely visible, unless you held it just like this: upside down, in the light. E.G + J.H. She stares at it, before she puts the gun back in the holster, gently like a woman would caress her lover’s cheek.
As they watched the Rowan gang being towed off by the marshals, Erin subconsciously touched the exposed skin of her chest. The sun was scorching and she hadn’t had time to put anything more than a shirt on. Wordlessly, Holtzmann untied the scarf around her neck and put it around Erin’s. She took her time and Erin relished her touch.
”What about you?”
Holtzmann shrugged.
”I’m used to it. Just button my shirt and let my hair down, I’ll be fine.”
Holtzmann was the palest person Erin knew. The gesture tugged at her heart strings, like so many things Holtzmann did these days. Erin wanted to tell her No, don’t. That exposed strip of skin, when you leave those buttons open, it drives me crazy. I can’t stop staring at it. Don’t deprive me… But she didn’t, of course.
She cupped her neck and ran her thumb along the fine muscles.
”I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Holtzmann looked her in the eyes and they stood quietly like that, lost in each other, until Patty cleared her throat loudly.
”They’ve gone, so we can go back to town now… If y’all are...you know. Done.
Erin buttoned Holtzmann’s shirt and pulled the collar as far up as it would go.
***
I know you
When they get back, they're tired and hungry and hot. After a hardy meal cooked by a reluctant Benny, Abby proclaims today bath day and water shortages be damned. She says there's no way she's getting into her nice, clean sheets with spider web and mining dust all over her.
Erin doesn't even pretend to feel reserved anymore as she sinks into the bath with Holtzmann.
"Really, Holtz?"
Erin looks at the glass of whiskey in Holtzmann's hand and the grubby hat still on her head.
"OK, fine."
With a sigh, she throws the hat on the floor.
They lie immersed in the warm water in companionable silence for a while. Erin looks at Holtzmann. Again. She can’t stop herself. She’s so beautiful like this, relaxed, with her hair down. And naked… Erin caresses her skin with her eyes.
"Holtz?"
"Yup?"
”How did you know I wasn’t going to go crazy and accidentally shoot all of us with that awesome gun you made?”
”I think I know you by now. You don't take chances.”
”You do, do you?
Erin has seen the little letters on the frame of her gun, seen her own name with Holtzmann's. She sits up. Holtzmann’s gaze lingers for just a second before she remembers herself and looks away. But Erin doesn’t want her to. Not anymore. She takes Holtzmann's glass out of her hand and knocks the whiskey back. She’s had more practise with holding her liquor by now. She bends over and sees Holtzmann’s eyes widen in panic just before Erin brushes her lips against hers and rises out of the tub, leaving her roommate staring in shock, jaw hanging.
She gets into their bed, naked. Her heart is racing as she lifts the sheet in invitation. Holtzmann's skin is still hot from the bath as she slides in next to Erin.
"Touch me like I’m one of your barmaids..."
Holtzmann shakes her head, sharply.
"No. You and I...It's different."
"It is...?"
"Isn't it?"
Erin takes a deep breath.
"Yeah… It is."
Holtzmann kisses her. Like she’s only been kissed by men before. She briefly thinks there might be something wrong, that she’s having a heart attack, maybe. But it’s only Holtzmann’s lips and tongue against her own that’s making her heart race and her hands tremble like they haven’t before.
"I'm not… I haven't really…"
Holtzmann put her forehead against Erin’s.
”Don’t worry. It’s going to be different this time.”
She'd been trying to convey some nervous caveat emptor, that she might be a bad lover because of her inexperience: her love life so far had been repetitive and uninspired. But she gladly took the reassurance.
Holtzmann kicks the sheets off. She looks at Erin like she did when she first walked into The Olde Fire Station: head to toe.
”It’s been torture to share a bed with you and not get to touch you. But the best kind of torture."
Holtzmann whispers it against her neck, between kisses. Erin makes a soft sound she doesn’t recognise as Holtzmann cups her breast. She’s never seen herself like this, never seen her body react. Her husband would turn the lights off and cover them with the duvet. More often than not, it was a hurried affair. She’s never seen a lover like this before either: absorbed in her, fascinated by every inch.
Holtzmann is beautiful naked, Erin knew that already. But it’s different now: Holtzmann is naked for her. She’s been given access to all this loveliness. Holtzmann has a callous on her favoured gun hand, just where the grips of her revolver would rest. Erin traces it with her tongue and kisses it. Holtzmann draws a sharp breath and moans softly. Erin has never excited a lover before. She follows the shape of her shoulder, her waist, her hips. She’s mesmerised by how soft she is and how greedy her hands are. She can’t believe that she’s managed to keep them off her for this long.
Holtzmann uses just her fingertips and brushes the slick, swollen length of her sex. Erin flinches at the sensation, starved of touch for so long. Holtzmann pulls her hand away, like she misconstrued the motion and thinks Erin isn't ready. She catches her wrist and presses her hand back against her wetness and looks into her eyes to show how much she wants her. Holtzmann's motions are light and controlled when she continues, but Erin trembles and burns for her, even with this lightness of touch.
"Holtz…" Her voice is imploring, even though she's not quite sure what she's asking for, just… more.
She’d read about the so-called perversions of women loving women in a book. It had been vague on the details, for obvious reasons. And her husband hadn’t been an adventurous man in the bedroom. So, when Holtzmann kissed her way down her body, she wasn’t completely certain of what was going to happen. The secret, forbidden pleasure.
When Holtzmann kissed her there, she knew why the book called it forbidden. This had to be a perversion, surely; a sin if there ever was one, because nothing should be allowed to feel this good. Nothing this wonderful should be allowed for a decent woman.
Holtzmann’s lips are soft at first, then demanding and Erin arches off the bed to get closer to the slick heat of Holtzmann's mouth and comes apart under her tongue. She’s so patient when Erin teeters on the brink of coming for minutes, unused to these new sensations.
She hadn’t known it could be like this, that she could be enslaved by someone’s touch. She’d done almost anything to get Holtzmann to keep touching her. When she comes, it's an alien, new sensation, different from the times she's touched herself under the covers when her husband was away: a hurried affair more often than not followed by guilt that she couldn't be satisfied with what she had, like a good woman should. She's holding Holtzmann's hand as she feels the waves going through her, squeezing it so hard it must hurt.
She comes down from her high in Holtzmann’s loving arms. She hears her heart race when she rests her head on her chest. Holtzmann gasps when she brushes a hard nipple.
”Holtzmann?”
”Yes, baby?”
Holtzmann calling her baby? She’d had no idea how much she wanted that to happen until it did.
”Show me?”
Holtzmann looks at her with swollen lips and bedroom eyes and messy hair and Erin’s couldn’t believe she looked like this for her, that this was her lover now.
Holtzmann takes her hand and placed it against her slick heat. Erin obviously isn’t the only one aroused by what they're doing. Erin feels like a virgin again, touching a woman. There’s another first too: she’s never been with someone she loves. Holtzmann’s soft groan tells her all she needs to know as she tries to mimic what she had done to her before, with her curious hands. Holtzmann’s skills as a lover were enough to make beautiful women queue up to get in her bed. And here she was, coming apart under Erin's fingers. Hearing Holtzmann's soft sounds in her ear as she touches her is the most powerful aphrodisiac of all.
”Tell me what you need?”
"You’re doing just fine..."
Holtzmann's voice is husky with desire and she has to clear her throat before talking. Erin can't stop looking at her, see how her eyes fly shut as she moves her fingers along her soft folds and feel her getting slick and slippery, almost friction free. And, there it is: Erin hears a gasp and sees on Holtzmann's face that she's found the spot and the right touch. Holtzmann kisses her deeply as she comes, breathing her moans into Erin's mouth.
She pushes on Erin's shoulders and flips their position. She lies down in the cradle of her thighs.
"We are not done…" she whispers between kisses and Erin moans as Holtzmann's hot, slick sex slides against her own, mixing their desire. Hours pass, and only the moon sees them move with each other, kissing, touching, grinding; covering hands and lips and sheets in arousal.
***
The next morning, Erin is sore and raw in new places and Holtzmann has a kiss mark on the underside of her breast and a scratch mark on her shoulder Erin knew she must have made. Holtzmann curses at how her arm aches after Erin slept on it during the few hours of actual sleep they got. Erin’s elbow complains: it’s not used to carrying her weight for so long, like when you’re trying to keep weight off your lover, when she’s underneath you, legs crossed in the small of your back and head thrown back in passion. Those tendons haven’t done that before.
She rolls over and spoons Holtzmann. Her hand wanders down her arm, to her breast and the pristine skin of her stomach to the curls at the apex of her thigh. Holtzmann stirs and tries to turn over.
”Stay. It’s your turn, baby.”
Her fingers move lazily down. She smiles as Holtzmann lets out a soft moan. Erin loves that her new lover has sex without a hint of shame or self-consciousness. It makes her shameless herself. She moves her hand in little tight circles, matching the gentle thrusts of Holtzmann’s hips against her fingers. She had intended this to be something quick and uncomplicated, a nice way to start her lover's day. But she feels greedy now, a fire in the pit of her stomach. She needs more. She gently pushes Holtzmann over on her back and takes a tight, rosy nipple in her mouth.
She kisses her way down her body and sees the evidence of how worked up her lover is. She carefully pushes her tongue against her entrance and slides into her. Holtzmann coats her tongue in warm arousal. She licks her way up to her clit and closed her lips around the swelling, lips sticky from her lover’s pleasure. She listens carefully to Holtzmann’s breath getting laboured and uneven. Erin is getting better at reading her, at being a good lover. Holtzmann didn’t kiss and tell, but she had heard enough to assume that some of her previous lovers had been pillow queens compared to her.
She changes her rhythm and pride swells in her as she makes her come like this for the first time. She kissed Holtzmann with lips sticky with her arousal.
She almost fell asleep again in Holtzmann's arms, but made herself get up, despite an adorably disappointed pout, so she wouldn't be late for work.
"Come on, Holtz… I have to… Oh god, stop that... set an example for the children. Nonono…."
Finally, Holtzmann relents and stops kissing her.
Erin tried not to look like a woman almost running down Main Street not to be late for work after just falling out of her lover's bed when she was almost running down Main Street not to be late for work after just falling out of her lover's bed.
She was met by Mrs Potter from the school board, who said that since ten of the children had unfortunately come down with the flu, maybe they should cancel today's classes, so the flu wouldn't spread?
Erin tried to look sorry when she agreed with Mrs Potter, but she was already back in bed with Holtzmann in her head.
***
Serious
She’s washing the scent of sex off herself a few hours later when there's here's a knock on the door. Holtzmann opens before Erin can tell her to put on more than an undershirt.
Abby stares incredulously at her.
”Cream and sugar Holtz… You promised not to have female guests as long as Erin lives here. What if she comes home early, she’ll be furious!”
Erin took a deep breath to psych herself up before stepping out from behind the door, wrapped only in a sheet. She doesn't want Abby to think badly of Holtzmann.
”School got cancelled. Flu epidemic among the children, best to send them home so they don’t all get it.”
”Ah."
Abby realised what Erin was wearing, or not wearing, in this case.
"OH… I’d better leave you to...it...then.”
As she tiptoed off, Erin turned to Holtzmann.
"That's not how this was supposed to go. I think I should go talk to her."
She found her in the kitchen. To Erin's immense relief, she didn't seem to be offended. There's an amused smile on her face when she looks at her.
"So… You and Holtzmann, huh?"
”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to walk in on that.”
”Oh, it’s fine. But for the love of God, don’t open the door in your skivvies in case other guests walk by.”
"Duly noted. I’ll try to convince Holtzmann."
Abby’s face changes.
”Is it… Serious? Or are you going to break her heart? Holtzmann might seem like she’s tough, but she’s actually quite sensitive and she’s my friend and I...”
”I love her, Abby.”
She hears a sharp breath behind her. She looks over her shoulder and sees Holtzmann. She’s heard everything. She comes over and takes Erin’s hand. She holds it so hard it almost hurts.
***
When they get back up, Holtzmann turns around and looks at her with a serious, sad face.
”I can’t believe you told Abby before you told me.”
Erin is crestfallen. Holtzmann is right, she should have had that discussion with her first, she's so bad at this...
But then Holtzmann winks at her and breaks into a grin. She gets up on tiptoe to kiss her.
”I hate you.” Erin mumbles between kisses.
”No, you don’t. You luurve me...”, Holtzmann singsongs as she beams at Erin.
”It’s true. I do…”
Holtzmann’s face changes. She’s serious when she whispers it:
”I’m so in love with you…”
She pulls Erin into her arms, no questions left unanswered between them.
***
Some days, Holtzmann would sit in the window and wait for her to come back from work. Some days she would precariously lean over the windowsill and look at Erin walk down the street, with that grin on her face, that was just for Erin and she would get hot and worked up from Holtzmann's eyes on her, knowing exactly what she was saying. Hurry home. I've been thinking about you all day. I can't wait to close the curtains, so nobody can see me kiss you.
Some days, Erin didn’t know who this woman was, who pushed her lover impatiently up against the door and let a hand wander under her shirt to cup a breast, or dip below the hem of her pants and shape her hand around her backside, or down to brush the curls below the softest skin, making her lover draw a sharp breath of anticipation. She didn’t know this woman, this new Erin. But she liked her.
***
Holtzmann goes away again. She says she won’t be gone long, but she can’t say for sure when she’ll be back. Erin tries not to sulk, but she fails, until Holtzmann takes her in her arms and says there’s no woman waiting for her down the road, there’s only Erin, will only ever be Erin. She knew it already, but she loves hearing it. Holtzmann says she’ll miss her every minute she’s gone and will come home as soon as she can. Erin makes her promise and she does. But secretly, she doesn’t understand how Holtzmann can leave her now, when they’ve just found each other. ”Take care of some business”. How can whatever it is be more important than being with her? Doing what they do with each other every night?
***
Not bath day
Walking home from school five days later, Erin sees a dot on the horizon. There’s something familiar with it, even though its tiny. As it grew, Erin broke into a run. She didn't care what it looked like. It probably looked exactly like a woman welcoming her lover back after an absence. That’s what it was, after all. She threw herself in Holtzmann's arms just as she hit the ground getting off her horse.
Erin buried her nose in her neck.
”You smell. You need a bath.”
”Probably right, I’ve slept rough for the last four nights. Still love me?”
Erin pushed her nose against the sweat and dust on Holtzmann’s neck and inhaled.
”I do. I still love you. I’m so glad you’re back.”
Back in their room, Holtzmann looks herself in the mirror and laughs at the wide smear of soot on her cheek and the strands of hay caught in her hair.
"You're right. I do need a bath. I should have come back on bath day."
”I guess someone will have to wash you, then.”
She takes Holtzmann’s grubby hat and pointedly puts in on the stool and not the bed. She pulls the pins out of her hair until it cascades down her shoulders. Then the yellow bandana around her neck. Button for button the shirt and then the buckle of her belt. Erin paused and looked at her. She shouldn’t have looked this hot in an undershirt and underpants. But god help her, she did.
”Up.”
Holtzmann obediently lifted her arms and let Erin slide the undershirt off. Holtzmann looks at her with bedroom eyes. She wasn’t the only one enjoying this process.
She gets down on her knees and slides her underpants down, slowly. Sure, she's dirty and needs to wash. But that doesn’t mean Erin can’t enjoy getting there.
She soaks a soft linen rag in the cool water in the wash basin in their room. She starts with Holtzmann’s face. Her lover sighs in contentment as the cool material touches her hot skin. Erin follows with her lips, kissing the clean surface softly.
Shoulders...arms...and her lover draws a sharp breath as the rag circles her breasts and slides over her nipples. Erin waits until they’re firm little pearls before taking one in her mouth and sucking it softly. Holtzmann lets out a pained noise and arches into Erin. Apparently, she hasn’t been the only one frustrated and needing these past days.
After her chest and stomach, she cruelly passes her sex and slides the linen over her firm backside and deliciously feminine hips. She washes her feet and slows down as she moves up her calves and inner thighs.
”Baby… You’re killing me here.”
Erin smiles adoringly at her lover, before letting the fabric brush her sex. Holtzmann gasps and throws her head back as she does it again, pressing the material against her sensitive skin. Erin gets up from her crouching position and pushes Holtzmann back against the dresser.
”I’ve…”
She replaces the cloth with her fingers.
”...missed”
She moves them in tight little circles, feeling Holtzmann’s arousal coat them.
”...you”
”Me too, baby”, Holtzmann manages before shattering under her touch.
Her lover is far from sated. She pushes her toward the bed and complains that Erin is wearing too much.
Erin felt like a drunk finally getting that shot of whisky they’d waited for all day when Holtzmann’s cool skin touched hers.
Holtzmann groans when she feels how wet Erin is from just touching her and making her come.
”I want to be inside you…”
Erin whispers a yes, even though it hasn’t satisfied her before. But she trusts Holtzmann, trusts that it will be different with her; it always has been.
It is. When her nimble fingers push into her, Erin feels her nerve endings catch fire. Holtzmann kisses her tenderly while sliding deeper, slowly and retreating over and over again, with soft, subtle changes. Erin surprises herself by coming like that, with Holtzmann inside of her.
About ten minutes later, there's a knock on the door.
"Erin? Are you home?"
”I’m going to need twenty minutes, Abby."
Holtzmann took one of her breasts in her mouth. It was a superhuman effort to keep her voice steady as she called out again.
”Actually, let’s make that 40.”
Her voice cracked when Holtzmann swirls her tongue in the way she knows makes Erin crazy. She grabbed Holtzmann by the hair and forced her back up.
”Damn you…”
Holtzmann grinned.
”I love you too.”
”You better…”
She kissed her, deeply and greedily. Maybe 50 minutes…
Afterward, in Holtzmann's arms, Erin sighs.
”I love Abby, I really, really do. But sometimes I wish we lived somewhere on our own. These walls are so thin…”
Erin had discovered that she was quite a vocal lover. It took a lot of effort to hold back.
Holtzmann kisses her neck and braids her fingers with Erin.
”Agreed. I’d love it if you wouldn’t have to keep quiet. It would be so hot.”
It doesn't strike her until later what a significant conversation they've just had. How she mentioned living together like that was a given for them and Holtzmann responded like she'd thought about it too.
***
Husky men in hats
That night, during poker, Erin sits so close to Holtzmann that she would be able to see her cards if she were playing. She isn't. She can’t focus on anything but the woman by her side, under her hands, as she touches Holtzmann’s knee under the table and travels up the inside of her thigh. Erin shifts closer to Holtzmann until they’re hip to hip. To an onlooker, it might just seem like Holtzmann is staring out into thin air, smiling at nothing.
Erin knew they had to leave the room and their bed occasionally, if only to entertain their relationship with their friends. But she was mesmerised by her power over her lover; how it only took a touch for Holtzmann to lose focus on what she was doing and get that look in her eyes that mean her sole focus was getting Erin naked.
She's distracted briefly when a husky man in a top hat walked through the door. Abby came out of the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. A smile spread on the man’s face as he tipped his hat, before taking it off.
”Ma’am. My name’s Thomas Macy. I believe you have a room for me?”
”I think our girl might have more than just a room for him, yahknowwhatImsaying?”
Patty’s theatre whisper is so loud Erin and Holtzmann has no problem hearing it on the other side of the table.
Holtzmann tried not to laugh. But not very hard. Erin tried a little harder. It still didn’t work.
Holtzmann opted out of the last round even though she was winning. They slammed the hotel room door shut with their body weight as they barely made it inside the room before falling into each other’s arms again.
***
Silver
The next morning, Erin goes out to find Holtzmann in the shed behind the Olde Fire Station, where she and Abby spend hours tinkering and experimenting. She's just about to wrap her arms around her lover and say something not suitable for stranger's ears when a tall, imposing woman pops her head out from behind a large apparatus.
"Ah, what a dingeling, I forgot to introduce you to my mentor, Dr. Rebecca Gorin."
The famous Rebecca, Holtzmann's mental mother if not her biological one. She feels like a teenager being introduced to, and scrutinised by, a suitor's parents for the first time.
Dr. Gorin looks at Erin like she's a lab specimen of limited interest. Erin hasn't been afraid of another grown-up in years, but it appears she still can be. She tells Dr. Gorin it's nice to meet her and the doctor looks back with an expression on her face that says that that remains to be seen.
Her lover looks happy next to her mentor and their interactions are easy going and familiar. Holtzmann has obviously missed her. She tells her about the Rowan gang, the fake haunted mine and how she, Erin, Abby and Patty stopped him. Holtzmann takes Erin's hand, and she freezes.
"...and we're dating."
Erin had no idea that telling people about them was an option. She'd assumed it must be kept secret out of necessity. She almost denied the whole thing. She squeezes Holtzmann's hand with a racing heart. Her mouth feels dry as cotton.
Gorin makes a non-committal noise, like female companionship is nothing out of the ordinary. She's obviously familiar with that side of her protege’s personality. She doesn't seem to care.
"Silver."
Gorin says it in a neutral voice and turns to Holtzmann.
Holtzmann looks like she wants to slap herself.
"Oh, of course! I'm an idiot."
"You must have been… distracted, Jillian."
Goring glances at Erin with a sceptically raised eyebrow. Holtzmann takes being berated in good humour. The love between them is obvious.
As they leave the shed, Gorin looks at Erin.
"Take care of her." That's what Gorin says. What she means and what Erin hears is Break my daughters heart and I will find you and hurt you in some ingenious way you can’t even imagine.
***
Holtzmann shows the others Rebecca’s maps and blueprints and the stone core samples she brought. They realise this is the beginning of a new era.
"Ah, man. I can believe we've been so caught up the whole gold rush thing we've missed a huge, big silver ore running right through Ghost Town,"
"No wonder Rowan was trying to scare people away from that mine. I wonder if her knew even way back when he tried to be sheriff?"
"Probably. It's sad seeing the smart ones go bad."
Abby turned to Erin.
"I think we'll need to build a bigger school house."
She nods.
"Yeah… And a bigger hotel."
"True."
Holtzmann turns to Erin.
”I’d like us to go for a ride tomorrow. I have something I want to show you,” she whispers in her ear.
***
Gold
The next day, Holtzmann took her riding, like she said she would. Erin had hoped it might be some sort of romantic outing, but they were going down the road to Holtzmann's makeshift shooting range. Was Holtzmann really taking her shooting on this beautiful day, that they could have spent in each other's arms in the shade of some tree somewhere?
They were coming up to old man Abrahams little homestead.
"Aren't we a little close for comfort?"
Old man Abrahams was a cranky, surly old man who would throw stones and insults after the local children if they got to close. Erin's pupils called him The Troll behind his back. He loathed people, especially women.
She'd always loved his little house, though. Painted green, it didn't look anything like the other houses around Ghost Town. He'd taken good care of his property and the garden and the fields around it was immaculate. Old man Abrahams had loved plants with the same fervor as he hated people.
"I wish I could afford to build a house like that on a teacher's pay."
Holtzmann just smiled and rode on in silence.
"Holtz! We can’t just ride in to his yard, old Abrahams will have us for breakfast."
Holtzmann got off her horse.
"Old Abrahams passed away last week."
"Oh…"
"Still like this place, now that you see it up close?"
"Of course I do, it's beautiful."
”Good. Because it’s ours. I mean, if you want it to be. I bought it.”
Erin just started at her.
”But baby… That money you got from selling off the gold was for your inventions?”
”I kind of...found a bunch of gold, sooo. But that’s not something you should go around telling half of Ghost Town, so I’ve kind of kept that one close to my chest. And you trump horseless carriages any day.”
She gets off her horse and looks around. She can see now that the paint is fresh, and the barn wall has been fixed. Someone's been doing work out here.
”Patty helped me. And Kevin, kind of. He came along, at any rate. Abby helped by distracting you.”
There was a brown mare in the paddock across the yard. She curiously sniffed Erin’s hand and allowed herself to be stroked.
”She’s yours if you want her. I may or may not have won her at poker. Mr Heiss just shouldn’t gamble, he wouldn’t be able to tell a bluff from horse manure.”
Erin pulled Holtzmann into her arms. She sniffed against her neck as she teared up. She took her hand and pulled her into the little house. She used her lips to express her gratitude. When Erin pulled her shirt out of her pants and unbuttoned it, to show her just how good she thought this idea was, she didn’t even notice that the planks were hard or that she got sawdust in her hair as she kneeled on the floor.
Afterward, in Holtzmann’s arms, her lover looked at her.
”So, is that a yes?”
”I want to grow old here with you. I want us to have matching rocking chairs and sit here and look at the stars together, holding hands.”
”I’d marry you if I could, you know.”
”I know, baby.”
Erin pulled Holtzmann close and they lay on a bear skin rug Holtzmann had brought out there, looking at the stars through the window.
The next morning, Holtzmann braided her a wedding ring from buffalo grass. She wore it until it dried up and fell off and Holtzmann replaced it with a gold one, made from tiny strands, just like grass. All her life, Erin would have the habit of tracing the uneven surface with her fingertips when she was pensive, like when she wondered what the stars above their home looked like up close, waiting for Holtzmann to leave her Mad Inventor Tinkering Shack and join her on the porch. It was a swing in the end, not rocking chairs. Holtzmann likes to sit close to her, with her head on her shoulder, and she can't do that in a rocking chair.
Erin would fiddle with the ring when their train was almost 10 hours late on the last leg of their journey to France, when one of Holtzmann's inventions had been chosen for the Paris world fair. She did it when Abby and her husband Thomas Macy were honored for long and faithful service as mayor and deputy mayor of Ghost Town, by then a thriving, considerably larger mining community and when Abby, Holtzmann and her went to hear Patty deliver a lecture on "The Frontier then and now", based on her book by the same name, at the Society of American History thirty years later.
Sarsaparilla
Thanks for readin’, ladies! No lesbians, animals, dumb receptionists or Paul Feig suits were harmed during the production of this fic.
*Tips hat and moseys on over to the saloon for a nice glass of sarsaparilla*
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