<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f0/Marguerite_Tuerny02.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Marguerite Tuerny<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Vigilance Ranch<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Nathan Hunter, Closed<br/><hr/>She jerked up, shoving the sheets away to fall about her waist.  Too breathless to scream, she jerked a hand to her breast, feeling the rough sweat-damp fabric of her coolie tunic.  The thing was filthy, and even in her terrorized shock she felt a pang of guilt for soiling the ranch-wife's clean sheets with the grime of a work camp.<br/><strong><br/>"Oh."</strong>She was coming out of shock nicely,<strong>"It's just you."</strong>Her face screwed into an irritated scowl, that wasn't what she wanted to say.<strong>"I mean... never mind."</strong>Trying to re-assure an insecure gentleman that she really was glad to see him wasn't something she wanted to get into.<br/><br/>So she flashed him a warm smile and changed the subject.<strong>"I hope you slept better than I did?"</strong>She was surprised he managed to wake up before noon, remembering the shape he was in when she tucked him in.<strong> "Do you think maybe the rancher's wife might have a dress she'd sell me?  I have money."</strong>A pitiful amount, but enough for a working-woman's frock, she imagined.<strong>"And do you think there's water for a bath?"</strong>She could use a bath, though she felt nothing could wash away all the filth, it seemed to permeate down to bone.<br/>