VC Compleat: The Final Day Of The Festival

Serge For Tomorrow
Ginny — 25 Sep 1998, 9:11 AM

Wearing her nightclothes, Clare sat in a comfortable chair in her elegantly appointed room at the Voyager City Ritz-Kradin Hotel, sipping a cup of raspberry tea. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers on the four-poster bed and go to sleep. It had been a long, eventful day, capped by her civil, but strained, meeting with Judge Riker and D.A. Balle. Will Riker seemed an intelligent and reasonable man, but she had a bad feeling about Wyatt Billiard Balle. Clare didn't like him, and, more importantly, at some deep, intuitive level, she didn't trust him. She would have to keep her wits about her in this trial, if she was to save Sevenita from the gallows.

Clare finished her cup of tea, washed her face, and laid out her favorite maroon serge shirtwaist for the following morning. Wearily, she pulled back the covers on the bed and climbed in. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

The next morning, Clare rose, dressed, and went downstairs to have breakfast in the hotel's only dining room, the Nemesis. The Ritz-Kradin, while not oppulent in the fashion of the large hotels back east, was pleasant and genteel and boasted one of the most beautiful arboretums Clare had ever seen. The Nemesis restaurant was located inside the arboretum, and, as Clare sat at her table, perusing the menu, she could almost convince herself that she was really in the jungle.

The restaurant staff at the Nemesis was wonderful, too. They were so unobtrusive that they seemed to fade into the background of trees and shrubs. That is, until a customer needed service, and then a waiter would appear, out of nowhere. Clare decided that the waiters were immigrants, based on the unusual, but amusing, vernacular that they spoke.

I'm really hungry, Clare thought to herself, and, immediately, a waiter was standing at her table.

"Has Madame had an opportunity to glimpse the menu?" asked the handsome young man, wearing the green and brown uniform of the hotel's restaurant staff.

"Yes, I have. I believe I'll have hot tea, cinnamon toast, and fresh peaches." Clare said, laying the menu aside.

"I am overcome by the trembles, Madame. We have no peaches this day." The young man was apologetic. "However, I fathom that the boysenberries are fresh and, with a little cream, would be to nullify for."

Clare smiled. "Then I suppose I'll have the boysenberries."

The waiter smiled back. "Well chosen, Madame. I shall dispatch your order immediately," and he disappeared into the trees.

Clare pulled out a copy of the morning's Voyager Chronicle. She had forty-five minutes before Larson was to pick her up. She wanted to enjoy a quiet breakfast and do the daily crossword puzzle. Opening the newspaper to the right page, she read the first clue. A six-letter word for...

A person who is not a doorstop, commando, or counterinsurgent.

The waiter returned with her hot tea, set it down on the table, and vanished.

I have no idea,Clare thought and moved on to the next clue.

The finest organic suspension ever invented.

Clare frowned. She didn't usually have this much trouble with crossword puzzles. She raised the teacup to her lips, but before she could take a sip, she was distracted by a commotion outside the door of the restaurant.

To be continued in The Young And The Reckless

The Young and the Reckless
Ginny — 1 Oct 1998, 9:31 AM

(I haven't had time--I just bought a house, you know--to read all the other new stories before I wrote this next installment of Clare Darrow, Western Lawyer, so forgive me, if I step on anyone's storyline or characterization.)

Clare set her teacup down and leaned back in her chair to try and get a better look at whoever was causing the commotion outside the Nemesis. She could hear one voice raised in agitation and a series of modulated, strangely logical, thumps and grunts in response. However, even balanced on the two back legs of her chair, Clare still couldn't see or hear anything clearly, and she wanted to know what was going on. Where was her waiter?

The young man appeared immediately. "Ma'am?"

Startled, Clare nearly tipped her chair over, but the waiter stretched out a steadying hand, and the chair came to rest gently on the floor again. Slightly embarassed, Clare cleared her throat and said, "Thank you--" Clare paused, looking at the young man's chest, ostensibly for a name tag.

"Namon, ma'am," the waiter promptly responded.

"Thank you, Namon. So, what's all the commotion?" Clare gestured toward the door of the restaurant.

Namon looked briefly in that direction and drew closer to the lawyer. My, he smells nice, Clare thought absently.

In a low voice, Namon said, "I fathom that things do not go brightly for Benson Vorick, the hotel's former maintenance engineer. He has just returned from a sojourn in Marshal Tuvok's jail and is clashing with the hotel manager about getting his job back."

"Why was he in jail?" Clare asked curiously.

Namon smiled slightly. "Benson is ordinarily very sharp, but he becomes a motherless Krady beast around the ladies on occasion. Although," he added hastily, "only once every seven cycles of the sphere. This time, he laid bothersome hands on Miss Torres, and she, overtaken by the rages, cold-cocked him."

Clare gasped in astonishment, mentally reassessing her picture of B'Elanna Torres. "She knocked him out?"

Namon nodded vigorously. "And fractured his mandible, as well. Then the Marshall arrested him for him own safety." The young man sighed and shook his head in concern. "I tremble for Benson. If he is without employment, he may have to cease drilling to become an advocate."

Clare looked at him sharply. "Mr. Vorick is in law school?" Namon again nodded his head in the affirmative, and Clare glanced speculatively at the door. "Please have him stop my table, Namon, after he finishes speaking with the manager."

With a polite, "Certainly, ma'am," the waiter was gone.

A few minutes later, a slim, dark-haired young man approached her table. Clare was fairly certain that he was cute, but it was a little difficult to tell under the wide white bandage that was wrapped beneath his jaw and tied at the top of his head.

"Benson Vorick?" Clare inquired politely. The young man inclined his head and grunted in response.

Clare raised one beautiful eyebrow at him and then smiled. "I'm attorney Clare Ensfriggen Darrow, and I have a proposition for you."

To be continued in All My Chitlins

All My Chitlins
Ginny — 1 Oct 1998, 6:07 PM

A half an hour later, when Larson pulled up in the buggy, Clare stepped out from the hotel lobby with her new law clerk in tow.

Larson leapt lightly from the drivers seat and tipped his chauffeur's hat to Clare. "Ma'am." Then he glanced over at Vorick. "Hey, Benson. I see you managed to get out of the hoosegow sooner than usual. Was she anybody I know?"

Vorick just looked at him expresssionlessly. As Larson appeared ready to continue ribbing the stoic young man, Clare frowned and intervened, saying, "Anson, Mr. Vorick is my new law clerk. Please give him a ride to the general store to pick up supplies and then to the law library at the courthouse. In the meantime, I intend to stop by Garak's and select something for the dance tonight, so you'll need to pick me up in an hour. And gentlemen," she added warningly, in the tone that made prosecution witnesses tremble and dressmakers swoon, "All my employees get along, or they move along. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Larson responded. Vorick nodded solemly. Clare started to turn, but stopped and sniffed the air. "Do either of you smell anything odd?"

Larsen looked confused. "Uh, no, ma'am." Vorick merely shrugged.

Clare shook her head in bemusement, waved dismissively at her employees, and walked next door to Garak's Millinery and Hosiery. Upon entering the shop, she was greeted by an obsequious, but somehow vaguely menacing man with an unusual skin condition. He turned out to be Monsieur Garak, himself. He made Clare uneasy, so she quickly selected and purchased a maroon tulle gown trimmed with jet beads, a matching velvet wrap, a small beaded evening bag, silk stockings, a black lace mantilla, a nosegay of dried roses, a pair of black patent leather ankle boots, and a small derringer--with holster.

Monsieur Garak boxed up her puchases, all the while making innocuous conversation about stormy weather and changing tides and crosscurrents. Clare was certain that there were hidden meanings directed at her in his idle chatter, but she couldn't make sense of his verbal subtleties. Besides, she was instinctively suspicious of him and left the shop as soon as her purchases were bundled together.

As Clare stepped outside the shop, she took a deep breath, preparing to sigh in relief. Suddenly, she dropped all her packages to the ground, clapped her hands over her hands and mouth, and mumbled into her gloves, "Oh. My. God. What is that smell?"

A pleasant masculine voice came from her left. "That would be the chitlins boiling at the Fairgrounds. I have it on good authority that they're a traditional Race Day refreshment here in Voyager City. Disgusting, isn't it?"

Clare, her hands still tightly clasped over her nose and mouth, turned to see a familiarly handsome man with light brown hair and lovely gray (or were they blue-gray?) eyes. "I'm from the south, Mr. Janeway. I know what chitlins smell like. This is much, much worse. Dear Lord, I think I'm losing the sight in my left eye."

The man laughed and bent to gather up Clare's packages. When he straightened back up, he smiled at her and said, "You'll eventually get used to it. But, for now, why don't we duck into the Ritz-Kradin Hotel and have a cup of coffee in the Nemesis Room?"

Clare said into her gloves, "If you'll make it tea, Mr. Janeway, I'll gladly follow you anywhere to get out of this stink."

The man balanced her packages adroitly on one arm, took her elbow in his other hand, and started walking toward the Ritz-Kradin. "Has anyone ever told you that you have really beautiful brown eyes? And, by the way, my name isn't Janeway."

To be continued in The Secret Sturm and Drang

The Secret Sturm and Drang
Ginny — 2 Oct 1998, 9:18 AM

Clare allowed herself to be guided through the doors of the Ritz-Kradin Hotel into the cool, pleasant lobby. Cautiously, she removed her hands from her mouth and nose and took a small sniff. Relieved to smell only the hotel's lavender potpourri, she turned to the young man beside her and inquired, "What do you mean, you're name isn't Janeway? Is this some sort of practical joke, sir?"

The man shifted her packages in his arms and replied, "No, ma'am. Just a case of mistaken identity. I'm Nicholas Locarno, from back east." As Clare's forehead began to crease in what he thought was dismay, he hastened to reassure her. "Please don't feel bad about it, ma'am. You're not the only one who's commented on the resemblance."

Clare looked askance at him. "Who said I felt bad about it?. Frankly, it was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make. You look just like Tom Janeway, except that I can see now that your eyes are much grayer, and your hair is longer...and fuller. Now, shall we have our tea?"

The lawyer walked over to the entrance to the Nemesis and spotted Namon lurking among the trees. Before she could call to him, he had turned and moved swiftly to greet her. "Good morning, ma'am. It pleases me to glimpse you here again so soon."

"A table for two, Namon, with some of that lovely raspberry tea, and would you check these packages for me?" she said, gesturing to the boxes that Locarno, who had tamely followed her, was carrying.

"Certainly, ma'am," and the waiter seated the couple at a table and whisked away Clare's purchases.

Clare contemplated the man across the table. "So, Mr. Locarno, you have rescued me from the vile stench of Race Day cuisine. How can I ever repay you?"

Locarno smiled charmingly. "You could call me Nick, for a start. And you could tell me your name."

Clare dipped her head graciously. "Very well, Nick. I'm Clare Darrow, from down south. Explain to me what possesses the people of this town to prepare and eat something as vile as chitlins on a festival day."

Locarno leaned back in his chair. "I'm not a local, of course, but it appears that chitlins are a favorite food of a fierce tribe of Indians called the Hirogen. Native cuisine is very trendy in Voyager City these days, and chitlins are currently in vogue."

Clare made a mouè of distaste. "I find that hard to believe."

Locarno shrugged. "So do I, but such is the case." He leaned forward, obvious interest in his subject apparent on his handsome face. "The Hirogen were a very fierce group of hunter/gatherers, and it was their practice to boil and eat the entrails of any prey they captured, no matter how noxious. It is also my understanding that, in traditional Hirogen culture, those entrails were also occasionally used as centerpieces and wall hangings. Isn't that fascinating?"

Clare, appalled, responded with a polite, "Indeed." Namon appeared, bearing an elaborate tea service in hand. Clare, grateful for the interruption, gave him such a dazzling smile that he nearly dropped the tea tray. The waiter set the tray down carefully and staggered off into the trees. "So, Nick," the lawyer said brightly, preparing to pour the tea. "What do you do for a living?"

Locarno's face took on a look of sly amusement. "In an amazing coincidence, I work for the Hirogen Detective Agency."

Startled, Clare was saved from the embarassment of pouring raspberry tea down the outside of her tea cup by the distraction of a loud crash and angry raised voices outside the restuarant entrance. As the couple looked toward the door, the babble increased, another crash sounded, and a woman screamed. Locarno was up and out of his chair, racing for the door. Clare followed at a more leisurely pace, a speculative look in her beautiful brown eyes.

Hmmmm, she thought. I wonder if I could get a date for the dance out of this?

The Guiding Limelight
Ginny — 2 Oct 1998, 8:52 PM

As Clare stepped into the hotel lobby, she was confronted by a seething mob of teenagers and young adults. They had formed a menacing semi-circle around the hotel manager, who was cowering behind the conscierge's desk. Up ahead, she could see Locarno shouldering his way manfully through the crowd. Clare followed in his wake and when he stopped in front of the conscierge's desk and turned to face the crowd, his feet firmly planted, his arms akimbo, she slipped in beside him.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, in his best pseudo-policeman's voice.

A young woman, one of the older Lang girls, pushed to the front of the crowd, dragging a placard behind her. She announced, "We know she's here. And we're not leaving until we see her."

Locarno looked puzzled. "Who are you talking about?"

The young woman rolled her eyes and sighed in exaggerated exasperation. "Where have you been? It's all over town, you know. Omega Spice--she's here for the Big Race."

Clare's eyebrows shot up, and she blurted out, "Oh, my Lord", before immediately clapping her hand across her mouth. Locarno sent an inquiring look her way, but she just shook her head and murmurred, "Later," from behind her fingers.

The young woman continued. "And where else would she stay in town, but at the Ritz-Kradin?"

The hotel manager spoke up from behind the safety of the conscierge's desk and Nick Locarno and whined, "I told you she isn't here. She hasn't been here, and we aren't expecting her."

The young woman started waving her placard, which said, "We love you, Omega Spice", in the air. "We don't believe you. Hey, I'll bet she's up in the penthouse!" And the young woman started to move toward the hotel lobby staircase, the crowd right behind her.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," said a cultured, melodious voice from above the crowd. All eyes turned toward the landing midway up the staircase, where a striking African-American woman in her early twenties stood. She wore a gorgeous blue riding habit and a matching hat trimmed with peac*ck feathers.

I love that hat, thought Clare. I wonder if there's any such thing as a maroon peac*ck.

"Oh, really," said the young woman. "Why is that?"

The other woman looked at her solemnly. "Because *I* am currently occupying the penthouse. And," she said, smiling slightly, "I can assure you that I am not Omega Spice."

"Who are you then?" a high adolescent male voice called out from the crowd.

"I am Carolita de la Vegas, young man. Does that name mean anything to any of you?"

"Nope. Should it?" the Lang girl responded insolently.

A squeak of outrage could be heard from behind Locarno's strong, stalwart back. The hotel manager scrambled over the conscierge's desk and stepped in front of Clare, his chest puffed out and his face red. "I'll have you know that Senorita de la Vegas is the premiere coloratura soprano in the United States."

Locarno leaned over closer to Clare and whispered, "What's a coloratura soprano?"

Clare whispered back, "Have you ever accidently stepped on a cat's tail?"

Locarno nodded. "Well," Clare said, "that, essentially, is coloratura soprano."

Locarno shot a skeptical look at her, as if to say, "You're kidding, right?", but Clare refused to acknowledge the look, getting a little of her own back after the entrails-as-wall-art comment he had made earlier.

The hotel manager continued, oblivious to the exchange between the couple. "Senorita de la Vegas is staying with us during her singing engagement at the Voyager City Opera House. She and the aspiring young diva, Mademoiselle Elaine, will be performing together. Frankly, some of you disrespectful young people could use a little of the moral guidance found in grand opera."

The Guiding Limelight, cont.
Ginny — 2 Oct 1998, 9:43 PM

At the hotel manager's comment, Senorita de la Vegas hid a smile behind her gloved hand, but not before Clare noticed it. The two women exchanged a look of amused understanding, and the singer, her posture perfect, slowly descended the marble staircase, parted the crowd of young people like the Red Sea, and left the hotel, the manager in fawning pursuit.

The crowd milled about aimlessly for a few moments, their fervor spent, and eventually everyone except Clare, Locarno, and a couple of shell-shocked bell boys had exited the lobby.

"Well," Nick said, chuckling. "That was an adventure. What are we going to do next?"

"We?" Clare inquired archly, with the coquettish sidelong glance that had been the social heritage of southern women for fifteen generations.

"Yes, we," the handsome young detective responded, crossing his arms and grinning at the woman in front of him. "I have a feeling that excitement and intrigue follow you like a favorite pup, Miss Clare. I'd like to go along for the ride, if I may. And I'm quite anxious to hear the explanation for 'later'."

Clare pursed her lips and considered him carefully. Then staring up at the lobby ceiling, she said, as if musing aloud, "Let's see--I suppose I am still in need of an escort to the Grand Leola Root Ball this evening. And I suppose I could be persuaded to go with someone I just met, if he has a decent suit. And I suppose that having lovely gray eyes certainly couldn't hurt a potential escort's chances..."

Locarno interrupted. "I'll meet you in the lobby at 7. Black or brown suit?"

Clare looked at him, as though surprised that he was still there. "Suppose we meet at 6 and have a light supper at the Nemesis Room before the dance--just in case they serve leftover chitlins at the refreshment table. And for a formal event, always black."

Locarno flashed a charming smile at her and caught up her hand in his. "I'll look forward to it, Clare." And he bowed over her fingers, bid her farewell, and sauntered out into the late morning sunshine.

Clare stood looking at her hand, which was still outstretched, then dropped it to her side. Isn't that curious, she thought to herself. Tom Janeway did a little bow just like that.

To be continued in One Life To Lithograph

Ridin on the range...
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 4:16 PM

The speed felt good. The rush of air around her and through her hair, the throbbing steed beneath her and they rounded the course, and the jumps and inclines on the dusty trail that made her heart leap in excitement. There was nothing more thrilling to B'Elanna Torres than to expereince herself the product of her care and joy.

She glanced quickly at the man riding by her. Oh, he loved a good horse, too, she knew. He knew how to ride better than anyone she knew. He could leap a gorge without blinking, traverse any incline without letting his horse get its feet tripped up -- somehow knew how to coax his horse, especially his stallion through any situation. And he respected that too, respected the steed's service and nobility.

It was a thrill to ride with Tom Janeway, all right.

Even if she didn't like losing to even him -- though it was still but a test run. And for that love of a challenge, she clicked in her cheek and rapped her horse's sides with her boots. "Come on, Liberty!" she shouted.

Tom turned back a quick grin to the woman behind him. A fine woman, knew a horse better than the back of her hand, every itch and ail, every way they liked to be treated and trained, and never a negligent day, either.

But it wasn't just her skill with horses he so admired. Her skill in roping in his heart, despite how much they bucked and brurred, was nothing to spit at, for certain. He was glad she knew it, too...Even if those bandanas he had to wear to cover his neck were getting pretty hot.

But he shrugged the complaint off even as he thought it up. It was worth the extra beads of sweat for the reminder of where she'd been. He wouldn't take back her feisty style for all the gold in Nevada.

Even so, or maybe because of that, he wasn't about to *let* her win. He threw his boots into his horse's sides. "On, Intrepid!"

Walking back from the range...
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 4:35 PM

"Oh, c'mon, B'Elanna, you did great!" Tom said as they led their horses back to the stables. "You're getting really good at those rock drops, you know."

"Don't fool around with me, Tom," she said, huffing her breath.

"I'm not foolin'! B'Elanna, jumping down a rockface ain't a big deal, you just have to use your center of gravity and lean back on the steed, then squeeze--"

"Look, you might find doing all those horsetricks really dandy," she returned, swinging the bridle around like a lasso in front of as she walked, "but I'm not gonna hurt my horse messing around on those rocks." She spun the rope even faster, letting the rope's length grow larger, the spin despite it faster. "I only went down there because you tricked me into following you into the gorge--"

"Hey!" Tom cut in, then grabbed the rope. "Easy with that--you can take someone's eye out with that thing!"

She let out her breath, stopped, faced him. "I did the rock drop, and now we're going back. Okay?"

He nodded once, pulled the rope--and her--close up to him. "You're goregous when your feisty, B'Elanna," he grinned.

"I am not feisty!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but Intrepid had a better idea -- and shoved his muzzle inbetween them, brurring loudly and shaking his head.

B'Elanna jumped back and laughed as the wiped off her face. "Well, now I know you trained this one! He's as pushy as you are!"

Tom grinned a little, wrapping his hand around Intrepid's bridle again. "C'mon, B'Elanna, we'd best get back now before the race starts."

She took a long breath, looking over to him. "I suppose," she said, noting how he'd suddenly grown serious. She paused, trying to catch his eyes with hers. "Don't want to get too hot out here in this blazing sun, do we?"

Finally, he turned a long stare over at her. "Yeah, I'd suppose not," he said softly. Starting off down the trail again, he led Intrepid around a patch of burrs, glancing back to see if B'Elanna missed them, too. She was trying not to look at him. Once they were around the weeds, he turned forward again, and grinned.

When they got back to the festival grounds, they were talking again, checking out the competition as they passed them and making bets between themselves--they both knew for a fact the Kazon couldn't ride their way out of a puddle, even if their horses were pretty good. (It was a rumor in those parts that all their horses were stolen, anyway--they weren't smart enough to breed their own.)

After passing the Kazon groups, they slowed a little, noting the funny looking wagon and the croud forming around it.

Tom's eyes immediately lit up when he saw "seer" written on the side. "Hey, after the race, you want to come and get your fortune told?"

She laughed. "I don't believe in that stuff, Tom! Besides, I've got the horses to tend to after the race--we both do."

"Oh come on, B'Elanna, it's just a little fun, and it won't take long. Come on, give it a try. It can't hurt nothin' -- I'm buyin' if you're comin'."

"What to those seers do anyway? They don't know the future for real."

"How can you say that if you've never tried?" he returned, dripping with the challenge. Her responding stare told him immediately he'd roped her good. So, he decided to pull her in all the way. "You come have your fortune told, and I'll even help you shuck the shoes tonight? How's that?"

The turned a wise grin to him. "You got yourself a deal."

"Good," he said, then, "Can I snoop in on your fortune?"

B'Elanna shook her head, grinning. "Tom Janeway, you're as impossible that stallion of yours," she said with mock impatience, just waiting for his reply.

In that fashion, they continued into the stable, oblivious to her father, who watched from across at the water troth.

Setting up things to come later.
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 1:28 PM

Certain, it was hot that day, hot and dusty. Even, riding her favorite mount proved very displeasing. But when the wagon creeked and wobbled to a stop, Madame D'Alaireux smiled upon the scene. People, lots of them, here for the horserace...and other various forms of entertainment.

She turned a smile and nod to her men, and dismounted her fine Arabian to take her horse to water. Leading it through, ignoring the odd stares she was accustomed to, she saw a dark man in tight jeans and a oddly fitting shirt by there, and straightened a little.

Ropes...not ropes, that's elsewhere...mounts...gadflies...grasshoppers...the spice...

"Pardon," Madame D'Alaireux said, leading her horse around to the water troth.

The dark man looked her up and down, his eyes widening a little, then tipped his hat. "Ma'am."

"Madame D'Alaireux," she replied, holding her free hand to him, "seer and seller of medicimals. I will be selling snake oil here today."

"Chakotay Torres," he returned, grinning as he shook her soft, well-manicured hand. "And what's the snake oil for?"

"Oh just about anything, boils, drospy, headaches--but I like it for a massage. Timmy, my manservant, he's the best at them."

"Oh." He seemed uninterested, and she noted his eyes perusing the scene around them, finally fixing on the stable. His eyes then squinted, his jaw tightened, at what came next.

Madame D'Alaireux looked, and saw a young couple heading in with two horses, talking with much animation--if not a little teasing--as they went inside. She felt her breath catch, licked her lips. "So tell me," she said, attracting the man's attention again, "do you think my time is well served here with my wares?"

"I'd say so, Ma'am," Chakotay answered. "Nothing like a little snake oil to soothe the muscles at the end of a hard day on the range."

Madame D'Alaireux smiled. "Well, perhaps I might use you for a demonstration?" She placed her hand on his arm. "You have faced injury, and overcome it. But you are not at your top form. Let me assist you."

"But, really, Ma'am, I don't need--"

"You are racing today, no? Let me help you, and your services help me advertise. It will only take a moment."

She tied off her horse and gave his arm a tiny tug. "Please, Chakotay Torres. It is for the best, you know. I know you desire, but you just don't know how to ask a lady for what secretly boils in your blood, in your warrior's dark soul. I see in you a seething beast of passion, unfufilled. Do not take that out on your body. Let me help you, and you help me." She winked. "I know you would like it."

Chakotay had stared in her dark eyes at her truth, but at her last wry comment, grinned and relented. "I guess a little massage wouldn't hurt, Ma'am. Much obliged."

Madame D'Alaireux took a long satified breath. "Thank you. I know this will not be regretted."

Leading him back to the wagon, where a croud had already begun to form, where Timmy had already begin his pitch and sell, the lady looked back on pretense of checking out her Arabian. Instead, she stifled a giggle as her eye caught the stable.

"Yes, this is a fine day for a horserace," she said, "...and perhaps a hayride, too."

The Hayride (part one) PG-13
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 8:56 PM

B'Elanna straightened herself, pulled up her chin as they strode slowly into the stable, sure not to attract any undue attention. Seeing another horsewoman there, she gave a friendly, neutral nod. "Miss Susan," she said as they passed her by.

"Miss B'Elanna, Mr. Janeway," Susan replied, leaving just as slowly with her own steed. Only once she'd passed, did she smother her grin with no success.

B'Elanna glanced back gave Tom a look. "Thank you for the nice test run, Mister Janeway. I'm much obliged."

"It was my pleasure, Miss B'Elanna," he grinned.

In unison, they glanced to where Miss Susan was leaving. B'Elanna licked her lips. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind helping me clean off Liberty's shoe? Looks like something's stuck in it."

"I'd be honored miss."

Miss Susan had barely made it outside the stable door, and still had to stifle her laugh with her hand. Quickly she looked around. A funny old woman across the way shot a smile at her, but nobody else seemed to notice. Putting on her best face, Susan sauntered close, but not too close, to the side of the stable.

"Hello there, Miss Sus--"

Susan threw her hand over the woman's mouth. "Shh! Miss Jenny, shh!" Leaning in close, she whispered in Miss Jenny's ear, then cocked her head towards the stable wall.

"Ooh," said Miss Jenny, biting her lips as she smiled. "You really think?"

"Oh yes, they're..." and a look said it all.

Jenny looked around. "But her pa?" she whispered.

Miss Susan cut her eyes at Miss Jenny. "What do *you* think he'll do?"

Jenny almost answered, but a voice sounded from behind them--"Excuse me, Miss Jenny and Miss Susan, but may I comment that this is a most inappropriate place for you to be loitering, as you might be overrun by passing--"

"Oh stuff it, Mister Vorik!" Susan snipped. "Go find something else to
bother."

Vorik raised his brow. "But I was merely trying to--"

"Eeew," Jenny said. "You stink like Ponfarvia! Yuck--get away."

"I assure you, Miss Jen--"

"You heard Miss Jenny--git!"

They watched Vorik stumble off to the stable door, and sit beside it. Then he closed his eyes. Meeting each other's smiles, Miss Susan and Miss Jenny continued. "You think he'll get out his shotgun after Mister Janeway?"

"Oh yeah I do! Are you foolin'? Mister Torres would rather have a snake in his bed than Tom Janeway as his--"

A thud, then -- "Umph!" came echoing from inside the stable. "Oh Tom!"

The two ladies froze, smiles in place, eyes locked.

"Lordy," they breathed in unison.

Silence.

"Did you hear something?" B'Elanna ragged voice then asked.

"You're always hearing stuff. Just the horses."

"Right. Horses."

* "Umph!" *

Miss Susan and Miss Jenny's eyes went bolt wide, and their mouth dropped into two little "O's." Suddenly they thought maybe they really should moesy a bit father down.

"Nah," they both whispered and stayed put.

The Hayride (Part Two) itching on PG-14
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 10:07 PM

Tom pushed his hand into B'Elanna's dark, thick hair as he deepened their kiss, pressing her fully back onto the stack of hay. Her hands were everywhere, under his vest, over his chest, around his waist and soon finding the openings in his chaps. He growled into their kiss then, hiking up her knee to his waist. Then she found something to hold to, and she grabbed with full force, wrapped her leg around his thigh. He gasped.

"Heaven's sake, B'Elanna--"

"My spurs hurtin' you?"

He caught two fast breaths. "What spurs?" he managed and devoured her mouth again, lifting her up more so he wouldn't have to bend.

B'Elanna giggled and hung on with her legs, continuing to trace his firm, lean body with her small, strong hands. She could feel his hand groping past her knee, his other hand exploring willfully, every inch of her in his reach. He soon bent to taste the soft, sweet skin of her neck, then her collar, then, with a few adjustments, her shoulder. Turning her head a little, she did the same to him after pulling off his bandanna. But in his securing her position in the hay once more, hopping her up with a little push, and a gentle bite upon her skin, it was her turn to gasp. "Oh Tom!"

He pulled back a little, still holding her in place. "You okay?"

Nodding, she tried to steady hear breath a little, staring into his darkened eyes. "Oh yes, Tom, I'm just fine."

He studied her for another moment, breathing hard himself. "Maybe...maybe this isn't the right thing to do right now B'Elanna."

"What in the world are you talking about? If we stop--again--I'll go nuts." Then she considered the meaning of his words. "Look, I know you're not the man you used to be, Tom. I really believe that. But...You would...do the honorable thing, wouldn't you?"

Another couple breaths. "Of course I would, B'Elanna. I'd never disgrace you. I know you've had you share of pain and hurt. I have too, though I brought it all on myself. I messed up, and all I've ever wanted to do was make things right again."

He paused. momentarily turning his eyes away, but when he brought them to hers again, he was sure to look at her so she'd know his heart. "But what I did wrong's in the past -- it should be, I hope it is, I'm trying for it to be, and...well, honestly B'Elanna, you're the best dang thing that's happened to me, so you'd better believe I'd never do wrong by you. I know I don't even deserve a fine woman like you. But--"

"Tom," she said, pressing her fingers to his soft cheek, smiling gently as she gazed into his beautiful blue-grey eyes,

"Yes, B'Elanna?"

"Be quiet."

A rare smile grew across his mouth as her arms wrapped around him again. "Yes ma'am," he whispered.

Outside the stable door, Vorik snored loudly, then hiccuped.

The Hayride (part three)
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 10:18 PM

Madame D'Alaireux moved her hands slowly around the forman's shoulders, easing out the tension there. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling slightly. The croud watched, at least a couple women within it looking as if they'd *drink* the snake oil -- right off his body. Madame D'Alaireux smiled.

"How does that feel, Mister Torres?"

Chakotay couldn't help it. She'd been right about that oil. It was doing wonders. "I could have a backrub like this every night."

Suddenly a group of women thrust up into the croud. "I'll take a bottle!" One cried. "I'll take two!" said another.

Madame D'Alaireux winked at Timmy and gave him a nod. He in turn grinned back and pulled out a fresh case with a wide smile and a story about the jungles it came from -- extracted from the snakes themselves, by himself.

Ah yes, it was a seller's day, the Madame knew. She did not, however, stop the massage. It was not time...

She felt then a rustling in the air, and she cut her eyes towards the stable in the distance. A short sound echoed among the other many noises. Was that the cry of a horse or a child? And just then a thrush of sparrows darted from the corners and overhangs of that building she spied.

A wise grin crossed her lips. A few more minutes, she thought.

***

Madame D'Alaireux followed, not too closely, on the pretense of retrieving her Arabian. She saw two young ladies pass Chakotay by, then start to giggle. As they passed her, she could easily make out--

"Oh yes, they did it -- no doubt about that. Better call the preacher."

"Or Mister Suder the mortician."

Looking ahead again, she saw Chakotay had stopped. Madame D'Alaireux moved steadily towards the troth. From the stable appeared the young lady, straightly dressed -- though her hair was hastily set and marked with hay, as was the rest of her clothing. Swiftly, though, the lady moved off, away from her father, slipping into an alleyway.

Chakotay had mot moved.

Ironically, Madame D'Alaireux smiled.

Ropes of pleasure and ropes of pain -- the future and the past. Intertwined.

Drawing the bridle from the post, Madame D'Alaireux slowly led her horse down the mainway, patient to arrive where she was destined to go.

She saw in the corner of her eye Chakotay Torres go into the stable. But she did not deviate. Upon arriving at the alley, she cast an understanding look upon the girl desperately trying to straighten herself up and in short order.

"Pardon," she said quietly and the young woman spun around. "Don't be frightened. I will help you." She held a gentle hand toward the lady. "Madame D'Alaireux, and I believe I am at your service, Madamoiselle. Come, and I will help you recompose yourself."

"Thanks," B'Elanna said, not a little suspicious as she regarded the unusual woman and her boldly displayed weaponry. "That's nice of you, but I really think I should--"

"Madamoiselle," the lady said quietly, "I believe..." and she turned her eyes to the sun for a moment, "...it is time for refreshments, yes? Please allow me to assist you. Your lover might require it soon."

B'Elanna straightened and stared at her.

"There is trouble to come, a dark cloud on your lover's head hangs, and your father carries it there. There is misconception and bitterness, and yet nobility in those men who love you. You will need to be strong, B'Elanna, for both of them and for yourself today. Let me help you."

There was an odd truth about her expression and in her tone, B'Elanna thought. She did not trust her still, but somehow felt she should listen.

Finally, B'Elanna sighed and gave a nod. "Okay."

Madame D'Alaireux smiled and pulled a hairbrush from her pocket. "I had a little feeling you might need it," she said, and handed it to her.

Favors and Visions, part one
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 12:21 AM

Madame D'Alaireux led her horse, slowly but surely, around the back of the town buildings, B'Elanna by her side still shucking away the hay, and back to her wagon at the end of the row.

Timmy was still selling, and doing very well with his "two years in the jungle, traveling via vines" story, and the crowd couldn't get enough of his inspired delivery. Madame D'Alaireux looked then spotted what she was really looking for, leaning against a tree and playing cat's cradle.

"Baktag!" she whispered loudly as she tied off her horse.

"Mmm?" looking, he gimped over, expectant.

"Provide a diversion," she told him and slipped a little bisquit from her pocket into his hand.

Gobbling it up -- "Mrmm! Ruby Snacks!" -- he hobbled away to delight the croud with some antics the other way.

B'Elanna drew her head back at the sight. "Look, this is really kind of you, Ma'am, but you don't need to go through all this fuss. Really, I'm--"

"Madamoiselle, your blowse is missing three buttons and you have hickeys all over your neck." B'Elanna's eyes shot wide as her hand flew to her throat. "Now come, before Baktag wears off. He's really high-maintenance, you know."

Allowing the strange woman to take her hand, B'Elanna followed her into the back of the trailer, and stared when she crawled up inside. It was not what she'd expected from a fortune teller's...home. Oh sure, there were lots of strange oraments on the wallm but a nice victrola sat in the corner on an ornate table, royal-looking chairs in one corner, and a gothic candleabra between them. A long cushion layed in the back, presumably a bed; her dark green bedcurtains were held back by fancy rope with long tassles. On one wall, there was nothing but books.

"Very nice," B'Elanna said, watching the woman disarm herself then pour two glasses of water. At the lady's gesture, she sat, accepted the water, then a hand mirror. B'Elanna gasped. "Oh, daddy's gonna kill me!"

"They can be covered up, dear. I have balms that will hide them, herbs that will heal them. Now, slip off your blowse and I'll get some buttons. You do have a race to ride later, no? We should not dally too long."

Nodding, B'Elanna put aside her water and did as the lady suggested.

Outside, they could hear Timmy going into his final pitch as Madame D'Alaireux sewed and B'Elanna dabbed. "All things in this life are meant to flow past," the lady suddenly said, catching the other woman's dark eyes. "It is the way, B'Elanna. There will always be turmoil in the water of life, while at the same time the great expanse, like the sea, is ever-connected, the past, the present, the future. You lover faces turmoil today from all those directions, but all water flows, as will that."

"It's because of my father, isn't it?" B'Elanna said. "He never could forgive Tom, said no matter what he did, Tom would always go back to bad, 'cause that's just his sort. I dunno...I don't believe that anymore, but I know daddy thinks he's doing right."

Madame D'Alaireux smiled. "You father protects you. The spring of his life was poisoned, causing his bite to be bitter. He is a good man, of course, though too much of the river that bore him. Your Tom is a good man too, who, I see, in his father's shadow was poisoned. I see him bearing the cross of his shame, stepping heavily in heart with his head held high. Yes, I have seen this...I have felt it."

Favors and Visions, part 2
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 12:35 AM

Madame D'Alaireux turned a knowing look to B'Elanna as she cut a piece of thread with her teeth. "I see a noble purpose in his aura, a dignity many do not see. But you do, don't you?...He will never betray you. Still, it is a precarious post you try to walk upon."

B'Elanna looked back into the mirror, applied more balm Mercy! I look like Intrepid's bit, all right! But I don't remember Tom biting me that much! she thought, but said, "I don't know what you're talking about. If Daddy and Tom want to fight like a couple of cocks in a pen, that's their business."

"But you love them both. You cannot tell me it is not a strain upon your happiness to see them ill at ease with each other." Trying off the last button, she gave the blowse a shake. "There, now let's see about the back of your neck."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes as the lady sat behind her. "Thanks."

Madame D'Alaireux began to deftly apply the balm to the young lady's skin, peering around at her. "Tell me, have you accepted Tom's offer yet?"

"Offer?"

"To go to the Leolo Root Ball."

B'Elanna swung around and stared hard at her. "How did you--? Has Tom been talking to you?"

She smiled. "Ah, so he did ask and you haven't accepted. No, dear, I have never spoken with him before. B'Elanna, go. You need to be there. -- Don't ask why, as I don't know myself. But I have seen you there, felt your presence, your need to go, for all of those you love and care about, and for yourself."

B'Elanna shurgged, turning back around. "Well, I can't go. I've got nothing to wear, and there's nothing left in the shops by now except those horrible dresses Miss Jenny flaunts around in."

Again, the lady smiled, smoothing out the balm. "So you went shopping?"

B'Elanna flushed, grit her teeth, sighing impatiently. "I was only passing by while going with Tom to the jail."

Madame D'Alaireux was not convinced. "Then perhaps I might lend you one of mine? You are much shorter than I, but this dress has always been too small on me." She stood and moved to the back of the wagon. Lifting the cushion, she pulled from a compartment a deep blue dress, and it up to display its high collar and cutaway sleeves. "Well?"

B'Elanna couldn't help but grin. Unlike many of the flouncy dresses the other ladies wore, the simple chintz gown was sleekly cut, tailored very handsomely -- she might even ride in such a well-styled dress -- and, in an unusual way, classic.

And in truth, she knew she wanted to go, to dress up pretty and be among people for a while. Only her lack of sucess with those ladylike things had ever made her feel awkward at such events. She'd been embarrassed before, years ago, trying to be like them, and never submitted herself to it again.

But Tom's invitation was tempting, not only because she really did want to be there with him, to feel his strong hands on her waist, guiding her in the dance, but knowing the other ladies would be clawing all over him if she wasn't there. Nothing would give B'Elanna more satisfaction than to stand by his side and watch those gossips chew their cud.

Those thoughts making her smile grow, B'Elanna gave her a nod. "I'm much obliged, Madame D'Alaireux."

"Please, call me D'A. And if you like it so much, it's yours --no, no, dear, it will never fit me. You should have it."

Favors and Visions, part 3
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 12:48 AM

Gently laying the dress on the young lady's lap, she turned her stare once more. "Now on another note, I have one last piece of advice for you."

"What's that?"

Madame D'Alaireux's grin turned down a bit. "I have seen some strange forces at work here today. This race will be fraught with hazzard."

"That's no surprise when the Kazon are in town," B'Elanna sneered. "They're always up to dirty tricks."

The Madame nodded. "If for any reason your lover cannot race today, B'Elanna, you must ride Intrepid."

B'Elanna jumped up, a surge of protectiveness dashing through her. "What?! But we worked so hard with Liberty...Nothing's going to happen to Tom, is there? Don't just look at me like that! Tell me!"

"Everything that is to gravely injure him already has happened." Madame D'Alaireux placed her soft hand on B'Elanna's arm. "I do not know what is to come. But if Tom does not race today, Intrepid will keep you safe. Liberty is a fine horse -- I saw you walking her -- but she will not be safe in this race if Tom does not ride. You do understand?"

B'Elanna took a difficult calming breath. "I wouldn't let anything happen to Liberty. And even if I don't really believe in soothsaying, I'm not about to take the chance of either of them gettin' hurt."

"Then you will ride Tom's stallion, yes? If it comes to that? And then you will go to the ball? Will you do only this, at not cost of your own....I'll even throw in a fortune telling for you both -- free of charge."

B'Elanna met the lady's kind but steady stare, and almost was mesmerized by it, and she couldn't help but think that maybe Tom was a little right about those fortune tellers. She'd already seen and done so much -- just happened by when B'Elanna was mussed up, sneaking her away from the town's eyes to get repaired, then all the things she said about Tom and her daddy...and the dress...and her horse...

"Okay," she said, wavering only a little. "I'll do it."

Madame D'Alaireux kissed B'Elanna's cheek and moved to fetch her blowse from the chair. "Then perhaps you would like to get dressed, Miss B'Elanna," she said, handing the shirt to her.

B'Elanna nodded and started getting her blowse on, turning away from the door hastily when she heard someone knocking.

Madame D'Alaireux opened the door slightly, leaned her head out.

It was Timmy. "I'm off for the tavern now, Madame, if you don't need me."

Madame D'Alaireux, feeling generous all the sudden, sighed and smiled. Have fun, Timmy. And tell Baktag on your way to make me some Java. I feel I'd like a sip just now."

"Right. And what a conicedence you said that! I saw that Qwai-chang guy coming this way just a few minutes ago."

A pause.

"Send him to me," Madame D'Alaireux said quietly, and shut the door. Looking at B'Elanna again, she gestured to the chair. "I believe you will want to stay a moment longer, Madamoiselle. I feel his adventures will weigh well on your being, and that of others...the ropes tied too tightly, like a noose, will unravel with his words."

B'Elanna scowled, but seeing the lady's kind smile reappear, and maybe more for her own curiosity, she did sit. There was plenty of time left 'till the race, and she hadn't heard anyone calling for her yet.

Besides, she thought, there's something about this woman that's awfully familiar. Might as well stick around while I can, maybe figure it out.

"May I have another glass of water...D'A?"

On the heels of Favors and Visions, part 3. Ropes Untied, part 1
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 12:14 PM

Qwai-chang stepped softly up into the wagon, returning Madame D'Alaireux's polite but respectful bow.

"So," she said, "we meet again. I thought we would." She gestured behind her. "Please, sit, and let me introduce you to Miss B'Elanna."

Qwai-chang bowed. "Miss B'Elanna."

The young lady gave him a nod, her eyes wide and curious. This lady was nice, all right, but getting stranger by the minute with the inclusion of the odd but obviously wise Chinaman. What a strange life she must lead!

"You have news for me," Madame D'Alaireux prompted, offering him a glass of water.

Qwai-chang nodded. "You have seen, Madame D'Alaireux. I knew that when your man came for me. I am, happy you are here." Taking a sip of the water, a little smile formed on his lips. "I have found my brother."

The lady clapped her hands once together. "That's wonderful, Qwai-chang! But where is he?"

"At the Provencal, under Doctor Holliday's care. He was injured while we escaped the Nistrum camp, and I now work for Max and Maxine, to pay for his treatment and our lodging. The Nistrum men were...difficult."

B'Elanna blew a sharp breath through her teeth. "Those men are animals! What I wouldn't give to see them wiped off the face of the range!"

But Qwai-chang shook his head. "All creatures must live. It is the balance of the universe. There must be good with bad, else there would be no balance."

"When it comes to the Nistrum, I'd rather be tipped," B'Elanna returned.

Madame D'Alaireux eyed him. "Qwai-chang, what troubles you? I feel a great disturbance in your soul."

"My brother is no longer my brother. He has forgotten so much. He barely remembers me, calls himself by his adopted name....I have accepted this, but it saddens me."

"But he remembers you a little," the lady offered. "That leave some room for you to have a relationship with him.. And perhaps you may teach him to remember." The man nodded slowly. "What?"

"His people are from this place." He looked over to B'Elanna. "Will you help me? May I humbly ask we find the family that loves him, that he can be reunited with them, after so much time."

"I'd be glad to help," she said. "Seein' as he's from around these parts. What's his adpoted name? Maybe I'll remember it."

Qwai-chang took another sip of water.

Ropes Untied, part 2
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 12:28 PM

Not a minute later, B'Elanna Torres was sprinting down the mainway, running as fast as her boots could carry her. Tears streaked from her eyes and she was gasping painfully, darting around horses, sending them to reel.

She didn't care.

"TOM!!!" she screamed as she neared the stable.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her, yanking her back. She spun around to see her father, and froze -- but only for a second. "Pa let go! I have to find Tom!"

Chakotay Torres' face was still red with rage. "You're not going anywhere," he snapped. "I don't want you having anything to do with that good-for-nothin' louse, and that's it!"

"The hell I will!" she retorted, ripping her arm away. "You don't care about Tom! You never gave him a chance! Always suspectin' he's up to no good when he's done nothin' against you -- all he's tried to do was make things right! But you won't have it!"

"You're just to young to see--"

"You're just too d@mned happy being angry!"

"B'Elanna Torres! You--"

"Don't you treat me like a little girl!" she raged. "I haven't been a little girl for a long time, and you know it! I've cooked and tended for you, kept your house and been respectful, even more now that I've grown and Annie's let me take over more--She knows!" She glared at him, eyes hard and wide. She knew people were watching, but she was too mad to stop.

"But I've got my own way, now. I've got my horses and a man that wants me for who I am and what I am. And you don't like that, do you? Especially that I've grown up enough to see Tom's not the monster you've made him into!"

"Yeah," Chakotay returned, "I'm sure he's been real sweet to you. I just can't believe you believed it. I should've taken of him when I had the chance!"

But B'Elanna stood her ground, standing proud and straight. "I love him, Pa."

Chakotay's face turned scarlet red. "What?!"

"That right! I do! You can't ask me to stand idly by while he's hurtin' -- not anymore!" She watched his face contort, and felt an ache in her heart for doing it, knew she was tearing his. She'd do anything for her father, she always had. But she could not back down. Not with how she knew Tom really was. Not with what she knew.

"Now I'm going to him -- and you won't stop me -- And you can kick me out, disown me if you want -- I love you, too, Pa, and I've tried to be a good daughter to you. But I'm not lettin' Tom take the blame anymore for something he's innocent of! No longer, Pa. It ain't right! And if you'd look at him for what he was, instead of being so angry all the time, you'd know it too...I'm sorry, Pa, but I'm going!"

With that, B'Elanna spun around and took off for the stable, leaving Chakotay standing in the center of the mainway to sigh hard after her. Turning a glower around at all the standers by, he growled. "Seen enough?!" he yelled.

As the crowd dispersed, he stomped off back towards his horse. "He hurts my little girl," he muttered to himself, "I'll kill him. I swear, I'll kill him." And the further he walked, the harder his black mood tore at him.

The scenarios, what he knew, what he'd heard already flying like wildfire all around town, all of it spun like a sawblade in his angry soul. Tom'd gotten his little girl, his B'Elanna, whose heart had already known enough turmoil....He'd pay, he'd pay big. Tom Janeway was a dead man.

Ropes Untied, part 3
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 3:13 PM

B'Elanna ran into the stable, still hot with her nerve and her news. But Tom wasn't there. Intrepid and Liberty were tied at their posts, drinking, some sparrows chirped up in the rafters. Still breathing hard, B'Elanna walked through, looking around each stall. "Tom? Are you in here?...Tom?"

Her heart started pounding. Lord, I hope Pa wasn't in here, she thought, speeding her pace to the back door and pushing it open.

"Tom? You out here?"

"Over here," Tom called back, and not too enthusiastic, either. Then a splash of water.

B'Elanna looked around and saw Tom leaning over the troth, splashing water on his face. She hurried up to him. "Tom, you've got to come with me, I just--Gracious sakes! What happened to you?"

Tom tried to turn his face away, but B'Elanna took his chin in her hand and pulled him to face her. His eye was beet red and starting to bruise. "I've had worse," he said lightly.

B'Elanna drew a slow breath. "Pa did this to you, didn't he?"

Tom barely nodded. "He saw you coming out the front earlier, heard some of the girls talking...He knows, B'Elanna."

Though her heart stopped for a beat, she swallowed it, seeing how he looked. "That gives him no right to--"

"It gives him every right to hate me even more, the way he sees me. As far as he's concerned, I'm better off dead, or soon to be, now that I've defiled his daughter."

B'Elanna sighed quickly. "There was no defiling going on and we both know that. But that doesn't matter now. There's a chance to right some things again."

"Right things?" Tom puffed a breath and turned away from her, kicking a puff a dirt into the air. "How's it ever gonna be made right, B'Elanna? I'll never bring Daddy back -- or Harry. And your daddy's always gonna hate me for killin' them, think I'm some kinda thief, a criminal!"

B'Elanna almost argued that, but Tom, shaking his head, continued first.

"I don't know why I even bothered to try in the first place to make things right! It's only got you in trouble and you daddy after my hide, and the whole town thinkin...I've only made things worse when I shoulda left well enough alone."

B'Elanna grit her teeth. "Tom Janeway, I've got enough trouble keepin' up with you stupid men! I've already got my pa wanting to kill you without you wishin' you were dead!"

"I never wished I was dead!" Tom snapped. "I just wish I could put it behind me. But I never will, will I? Everything I do's gonna be taken the wrong way!"

"Don't get up on your lofty plain of mercy with me! I know you like that you've bettered yourself. I've never seen you walk finer or stronger as long as I can remember. And I couldn't give a rat's @ss what the whole town says, even if you've made a better impression than you think."

"But your daddy--"

"I hate that Pa and anyone else that goes against you can't see what I do," she told him, "and I wish you could see what I do, too. But maybe you're just too much a fool, and as stuck in the mud as Pa's been.

He snorted. "Maybe so."

"If I didn't get to say what I'm gonna say," B'Elanna returned, "I'd give you a reason to be sorry for that smart mouth of yours. Your past is over now, and sure, it'll always be there to haunt you a little. But you don't have to let it drag you down anymore. You can stop feeling so dang guilty all the time."

Tom looked back at her, unbelieving but patient. She was, after all, paying him some compliments he'd never have given himself. "And how do you reckon I do that?"

She stepped up to him and took his arm, looked straight into his bruised eye. Suddenly, she couldn't help the grin that came to her face despite her frustration with that angry, hurt, fool of a man. Touching his cheek, she finally said, "Harry's alive, Tom."

Ropes Untied, part 4
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 6:51 PM

Tom grabbed B'Elanna's hand as they jumped up the front steps of the Provencal, ignoring the stares and gasps all around them. Practically bursting into the lush, scarlet interior, they were immediately met by Maxine, who popped open her fan.

"Sorry, but I do have a bath code here," she told them, reeling. The cat on her arm, a sleek, fine creature, also turned its head away. "Look, you've even disgusted Biji."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Maxine!" he groaned, then let out his breath. "You have an injured man here, I heard. Where is he?"

Maxine shrugged, pointed with her head. "In the back room with the Doc. Why? He owes you money?"

"No, but I think I need to check him out. They say he's my brother. Mind if I go back?"

Maxine raised a wise brow to the man. He did look as anxious as the girl on his arm looked shocked as she stared around the place. But Tom Janeway had after all, supplied her with the connection to the Merlot dealer in Federation City. "All right -- since you're an old friend....and maybe you'll stay a while? Have some wine?"

"'Fraid we can't," B'Elanna said quickly, eyeing the women in the room as she clutched Tom's hand a little tighter, pulling it nearer to her. "But much obliged, Ma'am."

The Madame gave her a grin and a wink.

"Where is he?" Tom asked.

Maxine stroked Biji with a light hand, making the cat stretch deliciously, eyeing his growing agitation. "Last room on the left," she sighed.

"Thank, Maxine, you're the greatest."

She smiled. "I've never had any complaints."

With a nod to her, Tom led B'Elanna through the room, dipping into his pocket for a coin to drop in the tip bottle on the piano and giving a nod to Miss Racine. She grinned back and tapped her accompanist. As Tom and B'Elanna hopped up the wide, curved staircase to the top floor, behind them the singing began...

"I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls
with vassal and serf by by side;
And of all who assembled in those walls,
That I was the hope and the pride."

B'Elanna skipped a couple times to keep up with Tom as the music echoed behind them. "You didn't actually patronize here, did you?"

Tom grinned. "No, I never had enough money to come here. Only Quarks. But Max and I are friends." He looked down at B'Elanna. "They're not bad people, B'Elanna. Max and Maxine got me out of a scrape once, never asked anything in return. I felt obliged, though, so I gave them the name of a Merlot merchant I'd run into once. We've been friends since"

The singing started to fade behind them as they neared the door...

"But I also dreamt, which pleased me most,
That you loved me still the same. That you loved me,
That you loved me still the same..."

Ropes Untied, part 5
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 6:57 PM

They rounded the last corner of the plushly carpeted hallway and stopped. Tom took a breath and grabbed the handle. Entering the room together, he stared at the bed. But B'Elanna curled her lip in disgust.

Doc was out cold with his "medicinal" hanging, somehow, in his fingers, snoring. Yet beside him, they saw, was a form under many quilts, breathing but otherwise unmoving. With a look to B'Elanna, Tom slowly stepped forward. He could first see the young man's straight, dark hair, and a thick bandage wrapped around his head. His face was pretty beaten, all right, but Tom knew that mouth anywhere. He'd heard it enough.

"Is it him?" B'Elanna whispered, coming closer. But when she saw, she knew too.

Tom couldn't move at first, and he drew two deep breaths again the flood of tears that suddenly cropped up in his eyes. "Harry..." he breathed, moved closer, sat on the bedside. Hesitantly, trying to retain his control despite his suden trembling, he touched his brother's shoulder. "Harry?"

A small moan, and the younger man's lips moved, trying to moisten them. Slowly, his eyes opened, straight into Tom's. With a squint, they focused. "T...Tom?" he rasped.

"Yeah," Tom grinned, at a loss for anymore words or motion. His chest all but heaved, and he shook his head. "Harry...you're alive."

"And you've got another black eye," Harry quipped in a breath.

"What? You think I'd ever stay outta trouble?" he returned, then paused, staring at the younger man laying there. Realizing exactly what was happening, Tom grinned again. "Dang...I...I don't know what to say, Harry." Awkwardly, he instead took his ailing brother's hand, giving it a warm squeeze.

Ropes Untied, part 6
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 6:59 PM

With all his strength, Harry managed to pull his older brother down to hug him, and hold him there. After a moment, Tom hugged him back, sighing hard and trying to control himself. But Tom backed off that moment later.

"D@mn, I glad you're alive!" Tom finally said, and turned to B'Elanna, his eyes shining with joy. "Look who it is, B'Elanna. It's Harry!"

B'Elanna smiled back.. "Dang right it is. Good to see you again, Sourdough."

"You too, Magpie."

Tom laughed. "Will you two ever give that up?"

"Probably not, SaddleBoy," she returned.

Tom laughed at that, but his brother's eyes turned down sadly. "Tom...It's my fault," he whispered.

"No Harry," Tom said, turning back to him with a shake of his head, "if I'd have been there for you and Daddy--"

"If I hadn't been so dumb and started whoopin'," Harry cut in in a hard whisper, "that whole stampede would never've happened."

"What are you talking about?" Tom said.

"Will you two cut it out?" B'Elanna finally intervened. "It don't matter, none of it does. You're alive, and that's all that matters now."

Tom nodded. "Alive -- though Mama's gonna be right sore you were late for dinner. She's gonna have your hide."

Harry smiled, almost laughed, but it faded just as quickly. "The Nistrum took Mama's brooch and locket, Tom, they took everything, and all the money...."

B'Elanna ears snapped up at that. Tom hadn't taken the jewelry?

"It was all my fault," Harry repeated.

"No it wasn't. Stop talking foolish."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Jabberjaw."

"And it ain't changed a bit."

They were quiet then, just staring in surprise and happiness at each other. After a minute, though, B'Elanna reached out and touched Tom's shoudler. "Tom, hate to ruin anything and all, but don't you think it's high time your Mama knew?"

"Mama?" Harry said, feeling his eyes grow heavy again, but fighting it hard. "She okay?"

"Yeah, Harry," Tom said, seeing his brother fading off again. "Mama's fine, and we'll get her over here pronto. Don't you worry about a thing."

B'Elanna moved forward and patted Harry's arm. "We'll go fetch her, okay?"

Harry nodded, then quicked a tiny grin when Tom mussed his hair a little before standing. They quickly left, though Tom turned a familiar grin back to his brother before closing the door after him.

Harry felt sleep coming back fast. He so wanted to move, to help, to see his mama, to eat her food. But he just couldn't. Sighing heavily, he decided to wait just a little longer.

Just then, Doc Holliday's head snapped up and he burped. "Standard course of treatment is four leeches three times a day."

Harry's eyes rolled back in his head again.

Tom and B'Elanna practically jumped down the staircase and through the main room. Turning a dashing smile to Maxine, he hopped over a cat, and helped B'Elanna skip over it in turn, then reached out to take the Madame's hand and kiss it. "You're the best, Maxine," he said and layed a whole dollar piece in her palm. "Be a lady and get Harry some vittles? Much obliged!"

Maxine's eyes followed the couple as that raced out of the front doors, hand in hand. Slipping the coin into her satin pocket, she gave a shrug and a toast of her glass to Max, who grinned widely from the back of the bar.

"They did it," Max said surely.

Maxine smiled. "And they liked it."

Max laughed and got himself a fresh toothpick. "Should I send out to the inn?"

"No, send out to Miss Jenny," Maxine replied, smiling evilly. "She'll fix little Harry up just fine."

Ropes Untied, part 7
D'Alaire — 17 Sep 1998, 7:01 PM

Tom's heart felt like it was leaping out of his chest by the time they got to the mainway, and they hopped to a stop so he could look around for somebody -- anybody -- from the Delta Q Ranch. In the bustle of the crowd and for their mutual excitement, anyone was hard to find.

B'Elanna turned around in a circle and finally raced across to one of the ranchhands. "Mister Ayala! You gotta get Miss Kathryn! You seen her?" Alyala shook his head. "Well, go and find her! Tell her to come back here -- Tom and I'll be waiting -- tell her it's a matter of life and death!"

As Ayala nodded and hurried away, Tom caught up with her and gave her a smile. "I just got Nozawa after Mama, too. I know she's around here someplace. Maybe I should -- "

"Janeway!" Came a shout from across the way, and the couple turned to see Chakotay Torres rolling up his sleeves and approaching fast. "I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter!" he hollered as the crowd started to clear a circle between them.

"Pa, stop!" B'Elanna screamed. "This ain't the time or place--"

"I'll say when's the time and place!" Chakotay yelled. "Here and now!"

"Pa, don't do this! It ain't right and you know it!"

"What do you know about right? You've got yourself roped in by this snake! I turn my back on you for ten minutes and you let him cozy up to you and tell you more lies! Well I'm gonna stop it -- NOW!"

"Pa, you're acting crazy!" She then felt Tom's arm guiding her out of her father's path. "Tom, you can't be thinking--"

"B'Elanna, nothing either of us can say's gonna stop him now," he told her, then turned his eyes to the Foreman. "I don't want to fight you, Mister Torres!" he said loudly. "But I ain't gonna let this go on no more. I'd never hurt your daughter, and if you don't believe that, fine. But you leave B'Elanna out of this. You want a fight, you fight me."

B'Elanna shook her head in disbelief as she watch Tom and her father approach eacher other. This is insane! Ridiculous! D@mn foolish men and their pride! Feeling her blood begin to boil, too, she took a step forward, intending to get between the two men.

But a soft hand reached out and pulled her back. B'Elanna swung around only to look up to Madame D'Alaireux's wise smile. "Let them fight, B'Elanna. The path of the current has changed. You father has changed it. This must happen."

"D'A, they'll rip each other apart! It ain't right!

But the strange woman merely turned her eyes out to the fight all but begun. "You do want Tom to be in the race, no? For him to fly free and wild on Intrpeid, his heart to soar, free of the ropes that have bound him?"

B'Elanna said nothing, but turned a wide stare to the men in the mainway.

"Let them fight, and be freed."

She didn't want to, but hearing the calm and certain words of that odd woman somehow planted B'Elanna's boots in the dirt while the only two men she'd ever loved were readying to go at each others' throats. Somehow, amazingly, B'Elanna set herself to wait.

Continue at will, chest-thumpers! -- But don't injure them too much!
They have a race to ride soon and they need to look at least somewhat decent for the dance that night. Otherwise, have at it! : P

Ropes Untied, part 8 (thousand)
D'Alaire — 18 Sep 1998, 11:16 PM

Continuing where Ropes Untied, part 7 left off

The two men approached each other, one more slowly than the other, and then they circled. Neither said a word, though one seethed, the other was quickly gaining his adrenalin at the threat before him.

Fast as lightning, Chakotay swung, and Tom ducked back, but just as quick, the Forman's other fist flew into Tom's ribs. Tom's fist came up just as quickly and caught Chakotay's chin, popping the man's head back for an instant.

Tom stepped back. He could feel the burn in his side and hadn't want to fight this man -- not like that. But he wasn't about to let him keep prowling on him, reopening the wounds he'd tried so hard to heal and trying to rob him of the happiness he'd found with his daughter because of his bitterness. It'd gone too far, it wouldn't go further.

"Don't you back off from me boy," Chakotay growled. "I'm not through with you yet."

"Then maybe you'd better come after me again," Tom said evenly.

"Yellow belly!" Chakotay snapped and charged upon Tom, knocking him to the ground with a thud. He socked Tom again in the ribs, but Tom threw him off, struggled to get to his feet, hauling his lost breath.

When Chakotay crawled up, too, Tom took the opening and barreled his fist around and into Chakotay's jaw in a smooth right hook, sending the man to spin on his boot. The foreman spun back and shot his fist at Tom again -- Tom hopped back, making him miss, but Chakotay leapt up and grabbed him, reeling back for another punch--

BANG! roared a shot in the midway, and both men stopped and swung around.

Ropes Untied, part 9 (thousand)
D'Alaire — 18 Sep 1998, 11:18 PM

Miss Kathryn lowered Betsy, her eyes burning clear across the square and straight through the two men. "Gentlemen," she said, loud enough only to be heard, low enough to be deadly, "I'd hoped this wasn't the emergency I'd been called here for."

Chakotay grit his teeth, wiping the trickle of blood from his lip. "As B'Elanna's father I have the right to--"

"You have the right to bring your foolish quarrels back to the ranch," Miss Kathryn told him, "not put them on display for the whole town to see. As for you Tom, you're just as much a fool for taking the fight."

"Mama," Tom gasped. "it was an emergency."

"That's right," B'Elanna joined in, moving quickly to Miss Kathryn's side. "Listen to him, Miss Kathryn."

Tom felt his mother's glare turn back to him, but he gulped and stepped nearer, anyway. "It's Harry, Mama. Harry's alive -- and right here in town, at the Provencal. He was found and injured and Doc's taking care of him there."

Miss Kathryn's eyes shot wide, her glare melted into shock. "Harry?" she nearly rasped. My baby, my baby boy... "But the stampede--"

"He wasn't killed after all," Tom said. "The Nistrim were holding him. Harry was being held by one of the small gangs that'd survived. They'd taken him to the Big Coffee, and that's where he was rescued."

Miss Kate was shaking her head in disbelief. "By who?"

"I believe," Madame D'Alaireux said, stepping forward, "I might show you the way, Madame. His rescuer's name is Qwai-chang, a--"

"ALL CONTESTANTS ENTERED FOR THE BIG RACE TODAY -- GET YOUR RIDES AND COME ON YONDER!!"

Tom and B'Elanna looked at each other. "Maybe I should drop," he said.

But B'Elanna shook her head. "No, Tom -- you have to race today. We both do."

"You both should not be late," Madame D'Alaireux said and smiled at them. "Go now, go to your race. Be swift and proud. I will take Miss Kathryn to your brother."

They looked at Miss Kathryn, whose shock had finally dissolved into a stunned smile. "It's what Harry would've wanted," she croaked, fighting back her tears and she cradled her rifle in an arm, gestured to the stable with the butt of it. "Go on, you two, and I'll take care of Harry just fine....You heard me. Go."

Tom let his breath out in relief, and B'Elanna gave Miss Kathryn's arm a thankful pat. "Thanks, Mama," Tom said, "We'll make you--and Harry--proud."

"Dang right we will," B'Elanna joined with a sharp, ready stare Miss Kathryn's way. She stepped back a pace, and, looking back to Tom, shared a knowing, satisfied grin.

But a beat later, they were running back to the stable together.

Chakotay was left to stare in shock at Miss Kathryn. The crowd had dispersed for the race, and people passing between them couldn't break the stare they held. A sad but sorry stare, one of deep thought, the other of reborn hope.

Finally, Chakotay gave a grudging nod. Kathryn sighed, her mouth twisted to the side, but grinning slightly nonetheless. Finally she nodded back, her eyes not leaving him until she turned to go by Madame D'Alaireux's lead.

Whew!

Now, on to the race, Jules!

A Stranger In The Crowd
Ginny — 20 Sep 1998, 4:31 PM

Great start, Jules. Here's a contribution to complicate things a bit.

The distinguished looking older man moved surreptitiously through the crowd at the racetrack. He spoke to no one, waving off a slightly inebriated cowboy who tried to get his opinion on the favorite in the upcoming race. Pulling his expensive duster more tightly around him, he stopped briefly and scanned the faces of the people moving about him in a kaleidoscope of Race Day finery. He saw no one he immediately recognized, and so he resumed moving with the crowd toward the temporary grandstand.

Perhaps this trip to Voyager City to make amends for his past transgressions was a mistake. His Congressional aide Stadi thought it was a mistake. His second wife Marayna really thought it was a mistake. Even his minister, the Reverend Voth, thought it was a mistake. Only an old confidant of his from Academy days had expressed approval of this undertaking. In matter of fact, Boothby was of the strong opinion that it was a trip about 30 years overdue.

The man heard a voice call out that the riders were lining up for the big race. He moved along with the excited, murmuring racegoers, intending to find a seat in the stands and continue searching for familiar faces. As he made his way, he was suddenly compelled to take a couple of short, quick steps to the side to avoid stepping on a small child who had pulled away from her mother and was pushing through the forest of adult legs. The sideways movement caused the man to collide with someone else. Turning and looking at the individual he had bumped into, the man found himself staring into the face of a tall, handsome younger man with light brown hair and gray eyes. The older man gasped.

"Tom?" he inquired, his voice a combination of uncertainty and hopefulness.

A slight frown appeared between the young man's eyes, but then his face cleared, and he replied, "I'm sorry. You must have mistaken me for someone else." He held out his hand and smiled a charming, familiar smile. "I'm Nicholas Locarno."

A look of such profound disappointment crossed the man's face that Nick actually thought he might begin to cry. "I'm so sorry," the man murmured softly. "My mistake." And he turned and hurried off into the bustling crowd.

A Face in the Grandstand
Ginny — 21 Sep 1998, 9:07 AM

The distinguished older man stepped into the shadow of the grandstand, his legs trembling. The encounter with Nicholas Locarno had shaken him badly. Now, all he wanted to do was find a quiet place to sit down and pull himself together. He debated whether he should take a seat in the grandstand and continue searching the crowd, when what he really needed was a drink. He had been by Quark's Bar earlier in the day, but had only ordered coffee. He was beginning to regret that choice.

The race was already underway when he reached the top of the grandstand. The racegoers, after the initial excitement of the start, were settling down into conversations with neighbors or placing side bets with friends. He scanned the crowd again, hoping to see a bright auburn head among the shifting mass of townspeople. He had been sure that Kathryn would be here today. After all, Tom was riding in the race. He wouldn't have thought that anything, even Santa Annorax and his whole outlaw army of Mexi-Krennim soldiers, could have kept her away. But she was nowhere to be seen.

He spotted a pretty, strawberry blonde woman making her way up the grandstand steps, a sasparilla in her hand. She sat down on the bench in front of him, smiling and waving at another young woman down on the ground.

"Excuse me," the man said, leaning forward to speak into her ear. "I was hoping to see Kathryn Janeway at the race today, but I haven't been able to find her. Do you know if she's here?"

The woman turned in her seat, a surprised, but friendly expression on her face. "You know, I was just commenting on that to a friend of mine. She told me that she had seen Mrs. Janeway headed down Main Street with some outlandish-looking gypsy woman."

"Did your friend know where they were going?" the man asked.

"She didn't say, but then, I didn't ask her. She's right down there," said the woman, pointing towards the young woman at whom she had just been waving, "if you want to ask her yourself."

"Thank you," the man said, starting to rise. "What's your friend's name?"

"Ann Suzanne. She's one of the Lang girls. We call her Ann-zan, for short. You'll like her. She's got spunk."

The man nodded his thanks and made his way quickly down the grandstand steps.

A Sign of Things to Come
Ginny — 22 Sep 1998, 8:23 AM

Ann-zan Lang had been anticipating Race Day for weeks. Now that it was finally here, she could honestly say that it was everything that she had dreamed it would be. She was debating whether to go place a side bet on Tom Janeway or have a refreshing beverage at Quark's nearby refreshment stand, when a distinguished gentleman in a camel duster approached her.

"Are you Miss Lang?" he asked the perky, dark-haired girl.

"Yessir," Ann-zan replied, carefully considering the man before her. There was something vaguely familiar about his face, but she was almost certain that she had never met him before.

The man continued. "I was speaking with a friend of yours just a moment ago, and she thought you might be able to tell me where Kathryn Janeway has gone."

Ann-zan's face brightened. "Well, sure. I saw her head off down Main Street with Betsy and an outlandishly dressed gypsy woman."

"Do you know where they were going?" The man asked, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his duster and wondering absently who Betsy was.

"Let me think." The girl pursed her pretty mouth and thought for a moment. "I believe I overheard them say that they were going to..." Ann-zan lowered her voice to a whisper and gave a quick look around. "...the Provencal."

The man replied in a similarly subdued voice. "And what's the Provencal?"

"Well," Ann-zan said slowly. "I'm not really supposed to know, being a good Baptist girl and all, but I think it's some sort of exotic pet store."

The man looked confused. "Exotic pet store?"

Ann-zan nodded enthusiastically. "Yessir. I've heard my daddy call it 'that infernal cathouse' a dozen times."

The man unsuccessfully tried to suppress a smile. "Ah, I see. And where might I find this establishment?"

The smile made him look even more familiar to the Lang girl. "It's just a couple of blocks east on Main Street. You can't miss it. It has a sweeping porch, big double doors, and red portieres in the windows."

The man reached out, took the girl's hand, and bowed over it. "Thank you, Miss Lang. You've been very kind." And he turned and walked off down the street.

Ann-zan stared at her hand, which was still outstretched, and then dropped it to her side. Isn't that funny? she thought to herself. Tom Janeway does a little bow just like that.

The Big Race
Jules — 20 Sep 1998, 1:17 PM

Like many other great horses, Intrepid had a vain streak. He enjoyed having a fuss made of him, and in some dim recess of his horse brain he had once made a connection between keeping the other horses behind him and being the centre of attention. All of the noise and bustle and crowds, and the milling horses around him, seemed to suggest that today was one of those days, and he arched his neck coyly and looked around himself to see if he was being sufficiently admired.

As it happens, he was. But then that's often the case with the pre-race favourite. Particularly when his rider is both a local and something of a favourite with the ladies of the town. The seasoned gambling men put their money on the horse to win because he gleamed with condition and careful grooming, stepped out well, and was transparently eager to be on his way and showing the other animals his heels. The ladies put their money on the rider to win because... well, because Tom Janeway might have the reputation of a rake and a gambler, but he was a reformed rake and gambler, and even when he'd been at his lowest ebb he'd always been unfailingly polite and chivalrous to the fairer sex. True, he didn't look quite as well turned out as his horse today, but there were plenty present who thought that the wild and ruffled look rather suited him.

Tom slowly drew in a deep breath, let it out just as gradually, and decided that Chakotay probably hadn't broken any ribs after all. Just bruising, and as a horsebreaker he was pretty much used to that as an occupational hazard. And, while there was a dull throb at his browline which made it impossible to forget that the Delta Q foreman's right hook had connected solidly enough to guarantee him a quite spectacular black eye, his vision had cleared now and was as good as ever.

Good enough for racing anyway, and that was all that really mattered. He looked around him, taking stock of the situation. Riders were still mounting and settling into their saddles. He saw Cowgirl Vickie being given a leg up by one of the gaggle of hands from the Circle V who surrounded her. B'Elanna had taken the excitable Liberty away to the side, out of kicking reach of the other horses. It was the chestnut filly's first race, and she was a little bewildered by the whole experience. B'Elanna nodded a brief greeting to Worf Rozhenko as he tipped his hat to her - the taciturn man from Defiant City had always had a soft spot for her, probably because he was part Klingon Indian like herself - but she kept Liberty well clear of his horse, General Martok.

Closer to Intrepid, the judge's brother swung himself into the saddle of Imzadi, and Tom turned away so that he wouldn't have to acknowledge him. Normally he got on pretty well with Thomas Riker, but these were not normal days, not with Sevenita in jail about to be tried for her life. He wasn't sure that he could manage small talk with the brother of the man whose word could get her hung, under the circumstances.

The Big Race (pt 2)
Jules — 20 Sep 1998, 1:19 PM

He wasn't sure he was capable of much in the way of conversation at the moment anyway. The events of the day - those encounters with B'Elanna, her father, the long-lost Harry - were all beginning to catch up with him. His head was reeling from more than just Chakotay's lucky punch. He needed time to himself to think, to sort out how he felt, to adjust to all these upheavals in their lives.

Perhaps he should have scratched from the race after all.

But his mother had said no, and she was probably right. Harry would still be there tomorrow; might even be recovered enough to elaborate on what he'd said about the jewellery. Tom still didn't understand why the indians would have troubled to steal it in the first place, but then he'd never understood why anybody would have stolen it. There was no motive, other than the one which had been assigned to himself. It had been a little tricky convincing Marshal Tuvok of his innocence in the light of the undeniable fact that he had just managed to pay off all his debts to Kaze Ogla and that he was honour bound not to reveal the means by which he'd done it, but that was nothing to the difficulty of convincing the rest of the town. Tom guessed that most of them still thought that he had done it.

This race was in some ways for them. To confound their doubts. To show them that he'd made something of himself since the shock of his father's death had caused him to take a long hard look and finally admit that there was a lot of room for improvement. To pay his debts - moral and otherwise. To prove to his mother and B'Elanna - and a scant handful of others - that he had been worth the faith and trust they had placed in him. And to prove it to himself as well.

Intrepid flared his nostrils and snorted, snatching at the bit. And suddenly Tom became infected with his mount's eager mood and the anticipation of the run, and didn't need any more reasons for going through with the race.

"Are you ready?" yelled the starter. "On the count of three! Three..."

Tom clamped down firmly on his thoughts, transferred both reins to one hand and pulled up his kerchief to cover mouth and nose. Even at the front, where both he and Intrepid aimed to be for the entire race, the dust thrown up by galloping hooves would be thick enough to choke a man.

"Two..."

Tom rammed his hat down hard, took a firm but gentle feel on Intrepid's mouth, and nudged him very slightly with his calves. The horse bunched, ready to spring.

"One... Go!"

The Big Race (pt 3)
Jules — 20 Sep 1998, 7:20 PM

Tom had spent the best part of a year practicing standing starts with Intrepid, teaching the horse to go from a halt to full gallop in a heartbeat. All his patient teaching now paid off, as Intrepid pushed off with all the power of a coiled spring and got his nose in front of the bunch. Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw Imzadi, the winner of the race for the past two years, at his shoulder and then the other horse dropped back slightly, wildly overexcited and still fighting against her rider. It would take the mare a while to settle, Tom reckoned, and with any luck the extra effort she'd have to put into regaining the lost ground would count against her in the long run. Too many races are lost at the start. Tom had worked long and hard to ensure that his wouldn't be one of them.

When B'Elanna had first joined him and begun training Liberty alongside the stallion, she had questioned the importance of spending so much time on the starts and his other race riding tricks. To her mind it was much more important to work on the horse's fitness, endurance and balance. But Tom had stuck to his guns and argued that speed alone wasn't enough. In the rough and tumble of a four mile cross country race, you needed guile and tactics as well. And you needed a horse that neither panicked nor disobeyed you in the face of the unexpected.

The horses reached the far end of the racetrack that had been used earlier in the week for the trotting and buggy races and turned off it to head out into open country. Here, across the scrublands of the Nekrit Expanse, the ground underfoot was firm but not so hard that it would jar the horses legs and they could make good time. Tom urged Intrepid on with voice and legs, and rejoiced in the exhilaration of the extra burst of speed as his horse found another gear and stepped up the pace. To him this was what made life worth living: a good horse, responsive to his every touch, riding like the wind itself. The race was part of the experience, but it wasn't the most important part. He'd tried - and failed - to explain to B'Elanna why it was that he could feel compelled to race, but tended to dismiss winning as of secondary importance. It was the strategy and tactics of manoeuvring for position which stimulated and excited him. Winning was merely the ultimate endorsement of the success of those tactics.

Ordinarily, at least. This time his reasons for racing were rather more pressing than just to experience the ultimate rapport between horse and rider. He crouched lower over Intrepid's withers to offer as little resistance to the wind as possible.

He checked his horse slightly as they rounded the turn that would take them along the banks of the Big Coffee, knowing that the ground there was uneven and rocky. Intrepid came obligingly back to a controlled gallop and they let the others catch up as he picked his way neatly along the unforgiving ruts where the ground had turned to mud when the waters were in flood in the spring and the grazing steers had gouged deep tracks in it which had dried hard in the sun.

Glancing behind, he saw B'Elanna in the small bunch just behind him, and allowed them to swoop on and absorb him into their midst. It would do Intrepid no harm to have a breather, with over half the race still to run. Let someone else make the running for a few minutes.

The Big Race (pt 4)
Jules — 20 Sep 1998, 7:23 PM

Tom found himself riding alongside B'Elanna for a while, close enough to exchange words.

"You got off to a flying start!" she called.

She could hear the grin, even if his mouth was hidden under the protective mask of the kerchief. "I guess all that practice was worthwhile after all, wasn't it? How's Liberty going?"

"Okay, I guess. Still very excited though. Intrepid looks like he's out on a practice run."

"They're all the real thing to him. Whoa, look! That Kazon up front is trying to break from the group. Better try and stay with him or we'll get left behind."

They spurred their horses on and managed to keep the distance at a steady two lengths behind as the Kazon made his break. Tom saw him look back over his shoulder, then spur his horse onwards to try to extend the distance. It seemed folly to him to exert so much energy in mid race, but Intrepid was cruising at this speed so he let him extend his stride and stay with the Kazon's shaggy mount with the suspiciously blurred brandmark. B'Elanna fell back a bit, unwilling to push Liberty just yet. Besides, Intrepid and his rider might be happiest running at the front, but she'd discovered that Liberty worked best in company, where she had someone to compete against.

The shifty eyed Kazon raised a hand in greeting as he spurred his horse onward into Coffee Canyon and around the first twisting bend. It was an odd gesture to make, and it was enough to make Tom Janeway narrow his eyes in suspicion and check his colt slightly.

In consequence he was more than half prepared when Darrell and Larry Ogla stepped out from behind the rocky outcrops that had hidden them from sight and raised their tripwire. With only seconds to react in, he slipped his weight sideways to turn Intrepid, gathered the reins to collect him, and indicated by the urgent pressure of his legs that Intrepid should jump - now! - onto the rock step at the side of the canyon on which the tripwire rested. Intrepid responded gamely, but a rear shoe clipped the tripwire as he gathered himself to pop down on the other side, and he stumbled to his knees.

When B'Elanna and the rest of the following pack rounded the bend shortly afterwards, there was nothing to be seen except the glint of the sun on a small section of wire at the side of the canyon, and the Kazon indian rounding the next bend a quarter of a mile ahead.

The Big Race (pt 5) - B'Elanna Bites Back
Jules — 22 Sep 1998, 7:12 AM

Where's Tom? B'Elanna thought wildly. He can't have got that far ahead, surely?

In sudden apprehension, she spurred Liberty on faster, trying to shed the group she was part of and catch up on the Kazon. But, taking her move as the signal to stay with her, the others urged their horses on as well. By the bend B'Elanna was boxed in behind Tom Riker and Worf Rozhenko's mounts, and the long straight sweep of the canyon ahead showed only the race leader - closer now - and no sign of Tom whatsoever.

And she knew she was in trouble.

She knew Riker and Rozhenko well enough to know that they were only interested in winning. Blocking her so that she was firmly boxed into the middle of the group was almost a compliment, albeit a backhanded one; her reputation as a horse trainer, plus the fact that she'd been working with Tom, who had a still better one as a race rider, meant that they weren't going to underestimate her or her horse's chances, despite Liberty's inexperience. Under normal circumstances she'd have cursed a little with impatience, but she wouldn't have resented it - or not much. If a similar opportunity to frustrate their chances had presented itself to her and Tom, she didn't doubt that they'd have taken it.

But Tom wasn't there, seemingly wasn't anywhere. And when she tried to drop back out of the pack to go around the other horses and get ahead of them that way, she found her every move shadowed by the two other Kazon Indians in the race. If she slowed, they slowed with her. If she tried to make a break to either side, they hemmed her in closer. One ran on either side of her, matching Liberty's pace, so close she could almost touch them. She was being deliberately targetted, she realised, and there wasn't a thing she could do.

She found herself gradually being forced across the trail to the right, towards the river, and dismissed her worries about Tom in the sudden realisation of what they were up to. They were trying to force her off the track and out of the race. She stole a quick look at them - long lank matted hair, with the usual entwined feathers and rocks to indicate their place in the tribe's pecking order. These would seem to be middle men, which figured. Snarling faces, glittering eyes, definitely hostile. She scowled back at them under her kerchief. With the way ahead still blocked, she couldn't do much about their intentions, but she was darned if she was going to go without a fight.

The Big Race (pt 6) - B'Elanna Bites Back
Jules — 22 Sep 1998, 7:18 AM

There was barely room for one horse between her and the river now. She steeled herself for action, knowing what must come next. Sure enough, the Kazon on her right suddenly yanked on his horse's reins, bringing it to a juddering halt before pulling its head round and chasing after Liberty's tail, just in case B'Elanna should think of trying the same trick.

The other Kazon nudged closer to Liberty, swinging his horse suddenly against the filly's flank, barging and boring to shove her off balance and push her ever closer to the river. B'Elanna steadied her horse, indicated with her knee that Liberty should keep heading straight, despite the conflicting signals. And she shifted both reins into her left hand, watching for the next move with narrowed and wary eyes.

Liberty danced along the bank of the Big Coffee, sure footed and certain with only a scant six inches between her and a swim, and B'Elanna was suddenly grateful for all of Tom's race tricks and nonsense, for giving her mount and herself the trust and confidence that they could gallop along a precipice if need be. Five inches, four... And then the Kazon made his move, reaching out with one hand to shove her off. She checked Liberty slightly so that his arm slid forward of her shoulder, reached up with her free arm to grasp his and grip it with all her strength, flipped up her kerchief by brushing chin against shoulder. And sunk her teeth into him, good and hard.

His outraged bellow of pain was music to her ears. He pulled away and she released her grip on him, spat, and swore that she'd swill her mouth out at the earliest opportunity. Seizing her chance, she swung Liberty across and did a little barging of her own. One handed, he hadn't the control to counter her action, and she regained some of the precious track that she'd lost.

And then the other Indian pulled up to Liberty's shoulder, taking his companion's place. He smiled at her, and it wasn't a nice smile. She looked desperately at the track ahead, and cursed as she saw her way was still blocked. And the Kazon edged his horse across to push her back towards the river once more.

She coughed. With her kerchief dislodged she was breathing dust, and she didn't exactly have a moment to spare to rearrange it. She kept her eyes on the Kazon, but her heart sank. She could hardly expect the same trick to work twice.

The Big Race (pt 7) - Tom Takes The High Road
Jules — 22 Sep 1998, 3:26 PM

Tom had somehow managed to avoid becoming unseated when Intrepid stumbled. After a bucking, plunging stagger that had him grabbing both the pommel of his saddle and his horse's mane in the most undignified of fashions, the colt had regained his footing and Tom his seat. The Kazon ahead of him had gained twenty feet or more in the interval, but Tom was more interested in the men who had tried to sabotage the race, even if it was pretty certain that the Indian had known to expect it... and he was very conscious of the fact that in a moment a dozen more horses would come pouring around that bend and onto the tripwire at high speed, and that they might not all be as fortunate as himself.

He shrugged a foot out of a stirrup, hooked it around the wire and pulled. The wire broke free easily, and he caught the long end in one hand, and flung it aside. The man hiding beyond the rocky outcrop on the river side of Coffee Canyon broke and ran, heading for the cover of the canyon wall, and Tom whirled his horse and gave chase. The race was important to him, but at this moment it was the furthest thing from his mind. He'd recognised Larry Ogla, and had to assume that his co-conspirator was Kaze's other surviving son Darrell, and that this was somehow all connected with the Delta Q Ranch's intervention in the water rights dispute, and possibly even Jabin's murder and Sevenita's arrest for it.

The two men scrambled up one of the narrow paths up the side of the rock face, and Tom set Intrepid up it to follow them. The horse was used to his rider's odder notions of what constituted a cross country ride and didn't turn a hair, plunging in their wake as nimble as a mountain goat. Darrell had too good a start, but Tom caught Larry up before he'd half negotiated the path, and leaned out of his saddle to grab the suddenly panicked would-be saboteur by the collar of his shirt. He pulled Intrepid to a bounding halt, and dragged his quivering captive round to look him in the face.

"Tell your Pa that this is the end of it! He either quits this petty vendetta against the Delta Q, or I go to Marsh Tuvok and tell him that you tried to fix the race so that your Indian friend won by nobbling the favourite. I don't imagine he'd be too thrilled - you're not real popular in his book at the moment. And I'd hate to be Kaze when the bookmakers find out what he tried."

Larry's mouth opened and closed, but he seemed incapable of speech. Tom half relented. Pushing it too far could only escalate the bad blood between the ranches. So he let go of the man, who promptly dropped to the ground in a quivering heap, and spurred Intrepid onwards up the track. As the horse picked up pace he called back over his shoulder:

"And it's lucky for you that I spoiled your wire trap anyways. Otherwise you might just have ended up killing the horses and riders behind me... and I guess Judge Riker wouldn't be any too pleased if he found out what you'd almost done to his brother."

From the aghast look on Larry's face, it was clear that he too believed that Judge Riker would be very much less than pleased. Tom grinned to himself briefly, and then he remembered that he was supposed to have been in a race.

The Big Race (pt 8) - Tom Takes The High Road
Jules — 22 Sep 1998, 3:37 PM

Tom's halt and his detour had let the rest get ahead of him - obviously - but from his vantage point up high he could see them, still pounding along the river track. With renewed hope and urgency, he kicked Intrepid out of a canter into a hand gallop along the path. He'd spent all his life exploring this country, and knew its trails like the back of his hand. This one led back down and joined up with the main track along the canyon just before it broke and opened out onto the scrublands that led back to the racecourse. If he set a crazy enough pace along it, he might just stay in touch with the race.

A heartbeat or two later, he spurred Intrepid on again, to a pace that was not just crazy but positively suicidal. From his lofty viewpoint he'd seen that the two Kazon Indians were trying to ride B'Elanna off the track, and realised that Kaze Ogla had had more than one ace up his sleeve. Getting back to ground level became a pressing need, and he wasn't sure he could wait for the relatively easy downward trail he'd planned to take.

The path forked up ahead. To the left, the path continued gently on down. To the right, it dropped away into a staircase of rocky ledges called the Suspiria Steps. Though he'd done it many a time on foot, it was a route that normally even Tom Janeway would have fought shy of negotiating on horseback. But desperate circumstances demanded desperate remedies. He pulled Intrepid back to a canter and put his bold, trusting colt at the steps. Intrepid popped down the first one and landed with a jolt that rattled Tom's teeth. The next was just as bad. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Kazon make their move and B'Elanna's countermove in response, but he didn't really have a lot of attention to spare.

And then he was back on the path, with Intrepid gratefully accelerating over the easy going of the sandy trail. They picked off the stragglers easily enough, then Intrepid got the notion he wanted to be at the front again and snatched at the bit. Tom swung him slightly wide of the bunching group of horses, approaching them on the river side. It wasn't his intention to let anyone get between him and the Kazon, accidentally or otherwise.

The bunch behind and alongside B'Elanna and the Kazon were obviously concerned, but the tricky Indians had placed themselves so that there was little they could do to intervene. Tom saw Cowgirl Vickie spurring on her horse Mesquite, and heard her yell out to the riders ahead, "Give way! Give way! We've got dirty tricks afoot back here! Let B'Elanna through!"

Worf Rozhenko and Thomas Riker cast startled glances back over their shoulders, and noticed for the first time that there was trouble. They saw enough that they didn't like in the configuration of the pack behind them to move aside to the left, giving a grateful B'Elanna just enough gap to spur Liberty through.

And then Tom was up with the Kazon, ramming Intrepid through between the two of them, his eyes glittering with bitter amusement.

"Hi, guys. Miss me?"

The Big Race (pt 9) - Less Dire Straits In The Home Straight
Jules — 22 Sep 1998, 5:30 PM

"You seem kind of keen on inviting people to go for a swim. Why don't you try the water for us, and let us know if it's warm enough?"

With a timing born of rough riding tricks he hadn't even dared to try to explain or teach to B'Elanna yet, Tom Janeway manoeuvred Intrepid close and dislodged one Kazon with a perfectly placed elbow. There was an approving cheer from the following pack as he splashed down in the slow running waters of the Big Coffee. Tom checked behind him.

"Clear the way, Vickie! There's another one heading in your direction." A second elbow saw the other Indian somersault back over his horse's rump, to land in the dirt with a resounding crash. Cowgirl Vickie and her nearest neighbour hauled their horses apart in startled haste, and galloped past on either side of the unseated rider, hooves flashing within inches of him.

To appreciative whoops, Tom spurred his horse forward until he came alongside B'Elanna. "Where'd you get to?" she yelled. She was still trying to pull her kerchief up straight; not an easy thing one handed.

Tom shook his head. "Tell you later. We've a race to run, remember?" And as the remaining riders rounded the final rocky outcrop and turned for the uphill gallop back towards the racecourse, he let Intrepid have his head and started his long run for home. After a startled glance, Thomas Riker, Worf Rozhenko and B'Elanna shook up their mounts as well and followed in his wake.

As the four of them drew away from the rest, it became obvious to all of them that the lone Kazon ahead was tiring. He'd been running solo for the best part of two miles now, and it was taking its toll. He'd made his break too soon and too fast, and the horse was visibly flagging, wavering off a straight line. The others ate up the distance between them, and flashed past him with a quarter of a mile to go.

Tom began to worry a little about Intrepid, whose endeavours in the course of the race had in many ways exceeded those of the Kazon horse, but his colt had been bred and trained for stamina and endurance, and he kept doggedly on. Tom left him to it, sitting very still in the saddle. His horse was already giving his all. Anything he could do would only distract him. Tom Riker's Imzadi gradually edged alongside him and nosed ahead. Tom guessed that the judge's brother was about to become the three times winner of this race.

And then they hit the racetrack and heard the swell of cheering voices from the stands as they ran the last hundred yards. Intrepid pricked up his ears, knowing that they were cheering for him and him alone, stuck out his nose and flung himself at the line.

His vanity did the trick. He won by a nostril.

The Big Race (Epilogue) - The Conquering Hero
Jules — 22 Sep 1998, 7:06 PM

Tom Janeway grinned from ear to ear as his horse was led into the winner's circle. He slid down his shoulder, and leaned against his mount, arms draped around Intrepid's neck, eyes closed, drinking in the moment and savouring it.

"He still looks fresh as a daisy. I can hardly credit it."

Tom opened his eyes to see a grinning B'Elanna, Liberty at her heels.

"I guess I've got all that stamina training you nagged us into to thank for that. I seriously never believed he'd make it through that last mile, after all that happened in the course of the race, but he just kept going." He rubbed the colt behind his ears, just where he liked it. "He!!, I've changed my mind about the importance of winning or not winning this race a thousand times throughout the past three months, when I've pretty much ate, slept and dreamt it, but I think more than anything I'm glad about it for his sake. He gave his all, and then some. He deserves it."

"And so do you," was B'Elanna's reply. "I'm in your debt - both for coming to my rescue this afternoon, and also for all those sneaky tricks you taught me, that I was arrogant enough to consider beneath me. They certainly came in handy today."

"How'd you do? I was... kind of too busy to look."

B'Elanna smiled, a lazily contented and self satisfied smile. "Third place. Not bad for Liberty's first outing."

"No," agreed Tom. "Not bad at all."

"What's this? A mutual admiration society?" asked Thomas Riker, rubbing down his mare in the next stall to Intrepid. "I figure maybe it is; I've heard rumours about you two. You make a pretty formidable pair of trainers. Congratulations, Tom. I guess we're going to have to worry even more about the Delta Q's horses in races now than we did already."

Tom laughed, happy in the exhiliration of the win but a little anxious behind the eyes nevertheless. "You don't think that they'll disqualify me for my - ahem - somewhat unorthodox route? I did leave the track, after all."

"Who's telling them? And if they did they'd have to argue the toss with every dang rider in the race," Riker stated flatly. Worf Rozhenko and Cowgirl Vickie, moving to offer their own congratulations, nodded their agreement. "The way I figure it, if you want to take a harder and longer route than the rest of us, it's scarcely cheating. Foolhardy maybe, but I guess the situation didn't leave you much choice. And if it weren't for you, every horse in the race might have run slap into that wire and fallen. You deserve the win, whichever way you look at it."

A weight seemed to have lifted from Tom's shoulders. "Glad you think so."

The Big Race (Epilogue pt 2) - The Conquering Hero
Jules — 22 Sep 1998, 7:10 PM

"Now, what the blazes actually went on out there? I think I've figured out that those Kazon were trying to put you and B'Elanna out of the race, Tom, but I can't for the life of me understand why." Riker shook his head slowly from side to side, as if that might dislodge some idea from inside it that would clear matters up.

Tom frowned, then shrugged. "Well, as near as I can figure it, it was Kaze Ogla's doing. Your brother will have told you of the trouble down at the Big Coffee earlier this week? Ma helped the Marshal set them straight, but Kaze kind of resented her interference, and swore he'd get his own back. I figure that putting me and B'Elanna out of the race was it - particularly with Intrepid being the pre-race favourite."

"But the Kazon...?" asked Worf.

"There have always been rumours that Kaze's name wasn't entirely coincidental," put in B'Elanna. "That maybe he had more Indian blood in him than perhaps the Ogla family were willing to admit to. I'm willing to bet that it was just him keeping the grudge in the family, as usual."

"More than that..." Cowgirl Vickie had handed Mesquite over to some of the Circle V hands to take back to the stables, and was now perched on the rails of Intrepid's winner's stall, listening with frank fascination to all that was said. "The lead Kazon was obviously supposed to win. Might be kind of interesting to find out from the bookkeepers where Kaze was placing his money this afternoon."

"Hmm. You might be right at that." Riker considered for a moment. "You could make a mint of money from betting on an outsider to win. And nobbling the pre-race favourite - and Miss B'Elanna here - wouldn't hurt his chances none, either."

But there seemed no real way of finding out, other than to ask Kaze Ogla to his face, which none of them particularly favoured as an idea, so the matter was dropped when Tom was called up to collect his winners purse. And with that, the race meeting was over and the crowds began to drift away, mindful of the passing time and their preparations for the ball that evening.

Tom went back to Intrepid and unsaddled him, dumping the surplus tack in his mother's buggy to be taken back to the Delta Q. B'Elanna found him there, fiddling with the stirrup leathers and staring into space, lost in thought.

"Coming back to the ranch?" she asked.

"Not quite yet. I'm going to lead Intrepid back - he's done enough for today. But there's something I need to do in town first, so I figured I'd take a detour and do it on the way."

"Something that can't keep?" she asked, the curiosity shining in her eyes.

He laughed, so it was obviously nothing too grim or serious. "Something that's kept far too long already, the way I figure it. You might as well go on back to the ranch. I'll pick you up there when it's time for the dance."

"Another secret?" B'Elanna frowned slightly, and he remembered her reaction to his silence over Sevenita.

"Kind of, I guess. Not for long though. It's just... I'd kind of like all the family to be together so I can tell you all at the same time."

B'Elanna's smile was dazzling in its suddenness. "Hey, were you including me there, as well as Kessie and Harry and your Ma?"

"I guess I was." The smile was wicked; pure Tom Janeway at his most devilish. "Your father too, whether he likes it or not." Then he sobered. "I wish... I wish they'd been there to watch it."

"I know. But there'll be other races."

"I guess. But not like this one. This one was... kind of special, in all sorts of ways."

And he hitched Intrepid up to the buggy and drove it into town to leave it for his mother at the Provencal, leaving B'Elanna to wonder just what precisely he'd meant by that remark.

to be continued... in "Payback Time"

Payback Time
Jules — 25 Sep 1998, 8:04 PM

Continuity note: This story takes place immediately after "The Big Race"

Max was shooting the breeze on the porch of the Provencal when Tom got there, getting into the party mood a little early with his friend Ol' Mike, the town gunsmith. With unhurried but deliberate casualness, he flipped a cloth over the opened bottle of Madame Maxine's best Merlot that stood between the two drinking companions. Tom grinned, and played blind.

"Come for your Ma, have you?" Max greeted him.

Tom shook his head. "No. I've still got business in town before I go back to the ranch to clean up for the dance. Just thought I'd bring the buggy along so it was nice and convenient for my mother. She's still in there, I take it?"

"Yup. Still there. You'll be going in yourself, I reckon?"

Again, Tom shook his head. "Not now; I don't have the time. But I'll be back first thing in the morning. However late I get back from the dance." He dropped his voice and spoke privately to Max. "How much do we owe you, by the way? For fixing up the Doc's services, and giving Harry a bed and feeding him, I mean?"

Max figured that Tom was a good enough old friend that he wouldn't split on him about the Merlot, and uncovered the bottle to top his and Mike's glasses up again. "All taken care of. That Chinee fellow, Qwai-something-or-other, he's paying all Harry's expenses. Workin' for them in our cellar."

"That's very good of him, but we can't let him..."

"Says he's Harry's brother or some such," put in Max. "Can't quite figure that one out. Ain't Harry your brother?"

Tom grinned, but didn't explain. He knew that Miss Kathryn was touchy on the subject of the adopted status of her three children, for lots of reasons. Mark Janeway's death five years earlier had made it unlikely that she would ever have a child of her own blood, but it wasn't just a matter of frustrated maternal instincts. There was also the complexity of the circumstances under which she had accepted responsibility for her charges. Even Tom didn't know the circumstances under which she'd taken on Harry and Kes, and while his own origins were complicated enough, he was beginning to suspect that his adoptive siblings' lineage might give him a run for his money.

The subject wasn't entirely taboo, but it had become a habit for the Janeways to not discuss such private matters in public. So he merely slipped Max five silver dollars out of the purse containing his race winnings and asked him to use them to get Harry anything else he needed.

"You be careful with all that money," Max advised him, as he pocketed the coins. "Don't spend it all at once."

Tom's grin grew wider, if anything. "Funny," he said. "That was pretty much exactly what I had in mind."

Payback Time (pt 2)
Jules — 25 Sep 1998, 8:07 PM

The Empire Bank didn't normally open on Saturdays, but Tom headed over there on the offchance anyway, and rapped lightly on the door. He heard movement inside, and then the rasping of keys in the locks. Miss Julie opened the door a crack and let him in.

"Working late?" he asked, with mock innocence.

"Sure," she agreed, her eyes amused. "I thought I might open up after the race and see if any of those who got lucky this afternoon felt like depositing their winnings."

"Had much custom?"

"None so far. But I figure my luck might be about to change."

"You figured right." Tom reached into his pocket and drew out the little leather bag of silver dollars that was his prize for winning the big race, and gently placed it in Miss Julie's hands. "Of course, I'm not sure there'll be that much left to deposit. Seems to me I've got a loan to finish paying off first." He looked up at her anxiously. "Sure that'll finally do it?"

"It should do." Julie smiled reassuringly as she tipped the bag out onto the counter and started counting coins. "Leastways, I know how much there was in there when I gave the prize purse to Mayor Cavit this morning, and I also know to the penny how much is still due on that loan. Hmm. Five dollars short?"

"I gave them to Max. There's enough without them though, surely?"

"Of course. But why are you giving money to Max? You've not run up more debts, Tom, surely? I thought that was all in the past now?" She gave him a mournful look so full of reproach that Tom could have sworn she'd been taking lessons from Miss Kathryn.

"No, I gave you my word, and I've kept to it... although it hasn't always been easy. Seems to me I could have paid the bank back any time this past year, since Intrepid started coming good, if I'd done a bit of speculating on his chances."

"And then again, you could have ended up owing it even more." Tom stole a look at Julie. Yep, she'd got Miss Kathryn's look down pat. "Nothing's certain. That's why they call it gambling."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, with the village idiot grin he liked to put on which so often simultaneously amused and irritated people. "But I've been a good boy, honest I have. Sure, I still like to play cards now and then, but I don't wager more than I've got in my pockets nowadays. No, the money I gave to Max was for a different purpose entirely. Let me tell you about it..."

Payback Time (pt 3)
Jules — 25 Sep 1998, 8:09 PM

Tom had met Miss Julie on his first day at Mr Cavit's school; the one that was now run by Miss Ruth and his sister. Back then, before Cavit had come into money and given it up to enjoy a comfortable retirement and the sinecure of the Mayor's job, the school had been an altogether more forbidding place. Cavit had taken a dislike to the new boy from the Delta Q Ranch at first sight, and had delighted in making his life a misery throughout his entire school career.

Tom was clever enough, but a little lazy. Once he'd figured out that Cavit was going to give him a hard time whether he worked or not, he decided that there wasn't too much point in putting a lot of effort into his learning. He did the minimum work he could get away with, cut school, and left altogether as soon as he was able to. It was a little curious therefore, that he should have got along so well with Miss Julie, Cavit's prize pupil, but the two had been fast friends since that first day, when he had teased her in good humour about falling off her pony... and she had retaliated by making fun of his sum making abilities.

In the years that followed Miss Julie had helped Tom with his sums more than once, and he reckoned he'd gained more schooling unofficially from her than he ever had from old Cavit. And he, in his turn, had taught her how to ride and how to shoot. They were opposites in both abilities and personalities, the wild rancher's son and the prim banker's daughter, and they liked each other all the better for it. They balanced each other's strengths and weaknesses, though nobody would ever think of hiring Tom as a bank clerk or Julie as a race rider. He reckoned though that she might well be the best shot in Voyager City, although they'd kept that fact pretty quiet since her old man hadn't thought it proper or ladylike for a girl to be able to handle a gun.

The summer they'd both turned fifteen, and Tom had finally persuaded Miss Kathryn to allow him to leave school and escape Cavit's vindictive temper for good, they'd experimented with romancing a little, stepping out together and holding hands. But somehow it had never seemed quite right. They'd been best friends for so long that trying to change the nature of their relationship had seemed forced, wrong. After a couple of months of awkwardness about it, they'd finally gone out on a walk along the top of Coffee Canyon and had a good long talk about things, and agreed that perhaps it would be for the best if they went back to just being friends again. The years that followed had seen them both with other partners, and they didn't meet up so often nowadays, but old childhood loyalties die hard, and Tom still thought of Miss Julie as a close friend to whom he could tell anything and who would always back him up in a crisis... even if he guessed that most people in town were barely aware that the two of them knew each other.

It had been to Miss Julie that he'd finally gone with his troubles when Kaze Ogla started to turn nasty about his gambling debts, and he'd finally realised how foolish he'd been to let a man who was generally hostile to his family gain such a hold over him and, by extension, over his family as well. He had a strong sense of honour and was willing to face and pay for his own mistakes, but it concerned him that his adoptive parents might suffer for it too. It had been Julie, who wasn't a banker's daughter for nothing, who had suggested the obvious way out of his current predicament - a loan from the bank to allow him to pay off his debts to Ogla - and who had fixed it up for him.

Payback Time (pt 4)
Jules — 25 Sep 1998, 8:12 PM

They'd kept that loan quiet for a number of reasons. Firstly, Miss Julie's father had been becoming ever more hostile towards his daughter's wild rake of a friend and would have objected to her assisting in his affairs. It didn't even matter that he wasn't a suitor, nor ever likely to be. To the banker's mind, he was discouraging more desirable suitors simply by hanging around.

And secondly, with the debts paid off and the firm intention of being more circumspect in his spending from then on, Tom had hoped that Mark and Kathryn Janeway need never knew just how foolish he had once been.

"But Pa knew all along," he said to Miss Julie, a little sadly, after he'd finished telling her about Harry's miraculous return. "Chakotay Torres told me that, quite recently. I guess Kaze must have figured that if he couldn't stir up trouble by calling in the debt, he could at least cause dissention by questioning how I was able to pay it off. The whole town knew I hadn't a cent, after all. And then there was the robbery. I suppose it must have looked mighty suspicious to him. And the worst thing is, he went to his grave believing me a liar and a thief - and not just an idiot who didn't know enough to quit the tables when his luck changed."

"But how many people actually knew about the theft of your mother's jewellery?" asked Miss Julie. "I know you told me, but I thought that other than that you'd kept the matter pretty much within the family."

Tom shook his head. "More people seem to know than you might imagine. Pa told Chakotay Torres, which explains a lot about why he's persisted in thinking me such a degenerate lowlife all these years, no matter how much I've tried to meet him halfway. Even so, I can hardly imagine that he would have spread the word around. He may hate me, but he's an honourable man in his own way. I guess it was just one of those secrets that was never quite as secret as we thought." He sighed.

Julie plucked at his arm sympathetically. "But Harry knows the truth, you said? And has been telling people? I guess it'll all sort itself out now."

Tom shrugged. "I guess. I just wish that Pa had been alive to see it, that's all."

"I wish he had been too, for your sake," agreed his friend. "But I doubt he thought so badly of you as you seem to think."

"Chakotay thought he did."

"But Chakotay's judgement is clouded by his own misinterpretations of what happened five years ago. His is hardly an unbiased opinion. And even if he's right, your father loved you. And he'd have been proud of you now, the way you've turned your life around and made good all your mistakes. I'm sure he would."

"Maybe you're right."

"I know I am." And Miss Julie suddenly chuckled, and punched her friend's arm. "C'mon, this is pretty sombre talk for a man who's just shaken off the shackles of debt for the first time in over six years. You should be celebrating. Why aren't you?"

Tom looked sheepish. "Well, I did plan on taking a girl to the dance... and maybe painting the town just a little bit red."

"Then do it," his friend ordered him firmly. "Give yourself a break. You deserve it."

Tom grinned suddenly. "O...kay. I guess I know when to follow orders. Especially orders like that one. See you at the dance?"

"Actually, no. I don't plan on going."

Payback Time (pt 5)
Jules — 25 Sep 1998, 8:14 PM

Tom's eyebrow rose, in a passable imitation of Marshal Tuvok. "Whyever not? You can't tell me you don't have a date?" And, as Miss Julie slowly nodded, "Who are these blind fools who've stood you up...?"

"Huh. Flatterer." Miss Julie made a rueful face, then smiled slowly in resignation. "Well, I thought I might have a partner lined up, but it seems that I was mistaken about that. There are a couple of detectives hanging around the bank at the moment, watching out for some gang of outlaws they believe may try to hold up the place. You may have seen them about?"

Tom thought back, remembered the light haired man who had accompanied Kes home the night that Jabin Ogla had died. "I believe I might have seen one of them. Youngish, fairish, grey-blue eyes?"

"That's the one. Detective Locarno. He seemed inclined to flirt with me for the first couple of days he was here, and I kind of thought he was making a play for me..."

"I hate him already. So, what happened?" Tom asked with sympathetic indignation.

"That lawyer blew into town to represent Sevenita at her trial. She took one look at him, crooked her maroon clad little finger and... suddenly he changed his tune." She rolled up her eyes in exasperation, which indicated clearly to someone who knew her moods as well as Tom did that, while a little put out, she was far from heartbroken. He laughed.

"So, what happened to his colleague? You didn't think of going with him instead?"

Miss Julie pouted, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "Not my type. Besides, he only arrived yesterday morning. Within the hour Cowgirl Vickie came in to pick up the payroll for the Circle V and it was patently obvious that she fancied him for her own corral. I left her to it.

"And besides, it isn't as if I don't have a date of sorts for tonight."

"You do?"

Miss Julie slid her shotgun out from behind the counter and ran a caressing hand down the cold tempered steel of the barrel. "I thought I might spend the night here at the bank with an old friend. I'm under threat of a robbery, remember? While my detectives are out playing, somebody's got to take care of business."

An Ear To The Ground
Ginny — 23 Sep 1998, 5:57 PM

The man walked slowly up the steps to the Provencal veranda. As he stepped up onto the porch, he stopped, paralyzed for a moment with indecision. Could he do this? Should he do this? Did he even have the right after all these years?

He forced himself to take a step forward, and another, and then another, until he was face to face with the glass-pannelled front doors. The man who gazed back at him in the reflection looked harried and uncertain. He took a deep breath and reached out to open the door. Before he could grasp the handle, one of the doors opened, and a sharp-eyed woman with a blue Persian drapped across her shoulders stood in the gap. She smiled and pulled the door open wider.

"Welcome to the Provencal. I'm Maxine, the proprietress. Please come in."

The man entered the front hall, and the woman shut the door behind him, saying, "Well, this is quite an honor, Senator Paris. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

The man drew his breath in sharply and spun around to face her. "How did you recognize me?" he asked incredulously, for he was, indeed, Senator Owen Paris, D-Ark. "We've never met before."

Maxine laughed, a rich, throaty laugh, and scratched the Persian behind the ears. "There are no strangers at the Provencal, Senator. Here, let me take your coat." She pulled the camel duster from the Senator's unresisting shoulders and handed it to a young boy in page's clothing, who appeared and disappeared without a word.

Maxine looked at the confused, unhappy man standing before her and said soothingly, "Don't worry, Senator. If there's anything we understand at the Provencal, it's discretion. Well, discretion...and catnip." The Provencal's owner laughed again, but the Senator only looked more miserable than before.

Maxine sobered and laid her hand on Senator Paris' arm. "What can I do for you?" she asked quietly, pulling him over to sit on a nearby settee.

The man perched gingerly on the edge of his seat and clasped his hands tightly in front of him. Maxine noticed how white the kunckles were on his clenched fingers. He finally spoke, so softly that Maxine had to lean in close to hear him. "I was told that Kathryn Janeway was here. I need to speak with her immediately." He paused and looked up. "In private."

Maxine smiled, set the Persian gently down on the floor, and stood up. "'In private' is what we do best at the Provencal, Senator. I'll have one of my girls take you to a room and inform Mrs. Janeway that she has a visitor." She clapped her hands twice, and Racine appeared from behind a closed door.

"Racine, take this gentleman to the Casablanca Room and have Cook send up a pot of coffee and assorted other refreshments." Racine took a couple of provocative, swaying steps toward the Senator, but Maxine's sharp voice brought her up short. "Save it for the sporting trade, Racine. This gentleman is here on other business. Once you get him situated, come right back down. I have an errand for you to run."

A Word To The Wise
Ginny — 23 Sep 1998, 7:21 PM

After Racine had left him, with a saucy swish of her skirt, in the Casablanca Room, Senator Paris walked over to the window and watched Main Street traffic, trying to organize his thoughts. Kathryn would be here soon, and he needed to have what he wanted to say ready.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and the Senator turned around expectantly, but it was only the young page he had seen earlier. The boy brought in a silver tray on which sat a coffee pot, cups, and a selection of positively decadent sweets. He then set the tray down on a table, smiled and bowed to the older man, and left the room without a word.

Senator Paris turned and stared out the window again. A few minutes passed, and he heard another knock at the door. Without turning, he called out, "Come in." The door opened and shut. A few moments passed in silence. Then the other person spoke.

"Owen, do you want to tell me what the hell you're doing here?" Senator Paris smiled faintly at the woman's tone and looked back to see his favorite red-head standing in the room with her hands firmly planted on her hips.

"Have a seat, Kate, and I'll explain."

Kathryn Janeway didn't look very happy with that reply, but she sat down in a chair next to the coffee-laden table. The Senator took a seat across from her.

Kathryn begin speaking again. "I received your telegram yesterday. You didn't mention anything about coming out to Voyager City. In fact, I had the distinct impression that you wanted to keep as much distance between you and Tom as possible. At least until after the confirmation hearings."

Senator Paris smiled ruefully. "A day is a lifetime in politics, Kate. Something very serious has happened, so I took the new PT&B express train...

"The Willing-Suspension-Of-Belief Special?", Kathryn interjected.

The Senator nodded in affirmation and continued. "...out of D.C. late last night. It was important that I speak with you as soon as possible."

Kathryn leaned forward, concern etched on her face. "What has happened, Owen?"

The Senator visibly steeled himself before speaking. "I have it on very good authority, Kate, that I'm under investigation for inappropriate conduct."

Kathryn looked shocked. "What kind of inappropriate conduct?"

Senator Paris took a deep breath and expelled it in a rush. "Do you remember Stadi, Kate?"

Kathryn nodded. "Certainly. She's your current congressional aide, and, as I recall, a very competent young woman."

"Well, Stadi and I had a brief affair back when she was a White House intern. It's been over for years, but some of my political opponents are making an issue of it."

Kathryn frowned. "Well, it isn't admirable behavior, by any means, Owen, and if I was Marayna, I'd shoot you like a dog in the street, but I don't see how it has anything to do with how well you currently represent your constituency on the Hill or how effectively you would be able to serve on the President's Cabinet."

Senator Paris looked uncomfortable. "Well, the issue's not really the affair per se, and Marayna's actually being a real trooper about the whole thing. It's, um, about how I've handled past inquiries about it." The senator's voice trailed off, his embarassment obvious.

Growing disbelief appeared on Kathryn's face. "Oh my God, Owen. You didn't lie about it, did you?"

The Senator looked even more uncomfortable. "Well, just a little."

To be continued in A Voice In The Wilderness

A Voice In The Wilderness
Ginny — 24 Sep 1998, 8:32 AM

There was a brief silence, and Kathryn announced, "I need some coffee." She reached for the silver coffee pot and poured herself a cup of the steaming, aromatic beverage. She took a sip and, mentally fortified, inquired, "Well, how bad is it? Who have you lied to?"

Senator Paris considered the question and answered slowly, "A group of reporters..."

Kathryn looked relieved and took another sip of coffee. "Well now, that's not really so bad."

The Senator continued. "Most of my consituency..."

Kathryn looked pained and took another sip of coffee. "Hmmm, that's not particularly good, but hardly unusual."

"And a congressional subcommittee."

Kathryn's cup stopped halfway to her mouth. "That could be a problem."

Senator Paris nodded vigorously. "They're even talking impeachment, Kate. Can you believe it?"

Kathryn sighed and shook her head. "For having sex with an intern, no. For lying to Congress, maybe."

Senator Paris grimaced and said, "Uh, we didn't actually 'have sex', Kate. She..."

Kathryn, looking completely appalled, threw up her hand to stop him. "I don't want to know." The Senator blushed and stared down at his hands. Kathryn pressed her lips together and a small frown appeared between her brows. "But you still haven't answered my original question, Owen. Why are you here?"

Senator Paris raised his head and looked soulfully and sincerely into Kathryn's eyes. Red alert, she thought. I know that look.

"Kate, Marayna's response to this whole matter has brought home to me how important family loyalties can be in times of trouble, how much I have fallen short as a parent and a husband..."

Kathryn interrupted. "How effective a tearful reunion between a father and long-lost son would be at diverting media attention and tugging at the citizenry's heart strings." When the Senator shrugged and dipped his head in acknowledgement, Kathryn made a disgusted sound in her throat. "I need more coffee."

To be continued in A Method To His Madness

A Method to His Madness
Ginny — 3 Oct 1998, 12:04 PM

Kathryn set her coffee cup down on the table and gave the Senator a look of withering contempt. Senator Paris was unfazed and began to talk with paracticed earnestness.

"Look, Kate, I know this seems self-serving of me..." Kathryn snorted derisively, but the Senator disregarded it. "...but you've been after me for months, even years, to make Tom's status as my son known. And you've told me repeatedly that this is what he wants, too."

"Well, of course he does, Owen. Tom's wanted that since he was six years old, and you left him in Mark's and my care. But I can't believe you'd want to use him like this." Kate tossed her head stubbornly. "And I don't think that I'm going to allow it."

Senator Paris looked at the red-head with a neutral expression on his face. Then he said evenly, "He is my son, Kate."

Kathryn's lips twisted dangerously. "Only by blood, Owen. Tom belongs to me, now. I've raised him, protected him, encouraged him, and loved him. By all rights, he's mine, and I won't permit you to break his heart again."

Senator Paris opened his mouth to speak, but Kathryn leaned forward in her chair, her mouth hard, her eyes narrow, and cut him off. "I mean it, Owen. We go back a long, long way, but I will not hesitate for a moment to put a bullet through your miserable excuse for a heart, if it means preventing you from hurting Tom."

The two old friends locked eyes, and it was the Senator who finally dropped his gaze first. He stared at his tightly clasped hands for a moment and sighed.

"You haven't changed a bit, Kate," he said softly. "You're still as fierce and determined as you were when you were my prize science pupil at the little red schoolhouse in Al Batani."

Kathryn relaxed a little and sat back in her chair. "Oh, there've been a few changes, Owen. As I recall, I used to worship the ground you walked on."

Senator Paris looked up at her and gave a soft, amused snort. "But not now, eh, Kate?"

Kathryn shrugged and folded her hands in her lap. "Time and tide, Owen."

"And Tom," the Senator added quietly.

Kathryn nodded. "And Tom." She paused for a moment, and they sat together in silence, each pursuing his or her own thoughts. Then Kathryn continued. "You know, Owen, you really haven't thought this through. Presenting Tom as your son won't help you at all with your troubles in Washington. In fact, I suspect it will only make things worse."

Senator Paris sat up and said, "Oh, really?" in a way so like Tom's that Kathryn couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, really." And she leaned forward to explain.

To be continued in More Things In Heaven and Earth

More Things In Heaven and Earth
Ginny — 5 Oct 1998, 9:29 AM

Kathryn sat forward with her elbows resting on her knees. "There are two ways you could approach such an announcement, Owen. You could tell the truth--that you were secretly married for seven years to a woman who bore you two children, whom you essentially abandoned after their mother's death, because they were politically inconvenient."

"'Abandoned'" That's a bit harsh, don't you think, Kate?" The Senator shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"No, I don't," Kathryn replied sharply, leanig back in her chair again. "And the family values crowd will crucify you for it."

Senator Paris grimaced. "I'd be lucky if they only crucified me. My other option?"

Kathryn continued. "You could say that you had just discovered a son that you never knew you had, the result of a youthful indiscretion. Of course, that's a bald-faced lie, and Tom would never go along with it. And even if he would, someone would inevitably find out that you were lying, and then you'd be in even worse trouble than you are now."

The Senator sighed heavily. "You're probably right, Kate. Lying about it--and getting caught at it--would be disastrous. But if I tell the truth, I could..." The Senator's voice trailed off, a thoughtful expression on his face.

A small crease appeared between Kathryn's brows. "What?"

Senator Paris said nothing for a moment, staring off into space. Suddenly, he jumped out of his chair and began pacing the length of the room. "It couldn't have been him, could it?" he murmured to himself. Furiously chewing the inside of his lip, an old habit that Kathryn recognized as a sign of intense concentration, the Senator turned and looked past Kathryn and toward the window overlooking Voyager City's main street. Striding to the window and pulling back the curtain, he stared down at the sidewalk below and said again, "Could it?"

Concerned, Kathryn began, "Owen, what--", only to be cut off by the Senator, who whirled to face her, a look of cautious glee in his blue-gray eyes. "What if, Kate, what if the announcement was not that I had found a son that I never knew I had, but that I had found the son I thought I had lost forever."

Kathryn shook her head. "That's still a lie, Owen. Tom will never agree..."

The Senator interrupted her, saying softly. "Not Tom, Kate. Nickie."

Kathryn's mouth fell open in astonishment, and she stood, motionless, stunned momentarily into silence. "Nickie? Oh, my God, Owen. Is he still...do you know where...?" Kathryn floundered, shaken by the implication of Senator Paris' words. The Senator nodded, slowly, and started to chuckle softly. The chuckle escalated, and he bent over, his hands on his knees, his body shaking with laughter. Kathryn stepped forward, concerned, and laid her hand on his back.

The Senator sobered slightly at her touch, stood up, and took her hand in his, still chuckling. "You know, Katie, sometimes it's a damn sight better to be lucky than good."