<strong>Day Two-Night</strong><br/><br/>She laughed as he played the horse.  She stroked his hair as he moved, changed his mind and came back to get the stool.  Irene hugged him tight as he bent.  “I’ve witnessed your aptitude for cleanliness, Mr. Markham,” Irene said, grinning broadly.  “I’ve been the beneficiary of said attentions...”<br/><br/>When he set her on the stool, Irene felt like royalty.  She watched him as he got the cloths and handed one to her.  She covered her face and gave it a good rub, making a show of cleaning her ears and neck.<br/><br/>Head tilted to the side, she smiled at Sam as he knelt before her.  What would it be like if he wanted HER, not just in the carnal sense?  She sighed knowing she was having little girl thoughts.  Irene long ago learned to take what she could get, and take it at face value.<br/><br/>She looked at Sam.  “Garrison.  I was born here, to Irish Immigrants.  I come by the Irene naturally, and the temper, too.  Guess the fighting spirit can be good sometimes.”  Irene pushed her hair back from her face, dragging fingers through the tangles.  “I go by O’Rourke because it’s my legal name and it’s what everyone in these parts know me as.  If I tried to change it...well, they’d just say I was hiding from my ‘past.’  You must know a faction think I was the one to kill Timothy.  We fought like cats and dogs—with words.  He never raised a hand to me, though I did hurl a mug after him when he walked out on the argument.”  She sighed sad for a moment.<br/><br/>She reached out and tangled her fingers with Sam’s, drawing his hand closer to kiss the first knuckle.  She rubbed his knuckles against her cheek and then released him.  At least until she got old and feeble, she’d have these good memories of time with an amazing man who hunted criminals by day, and...<br/><br/>Irene sobered.  “Sam, I don’t think I asked if you were married.  I mean, not that it matters...I was just curious.  I babbled all about my dead husband...”<br/><br/>She let him take his time, working around to her question as he admitted to being on his best behavior with her and to having his own reputation.<br/><br/>Irene reached up and touched the bullet wound scars on Sam’s chest.  Some scars were visible and some were hidden.  She sighed, smiling as he as he wet another cloth and helped her in her cleaning up, washing her, apparently making sure she was clean with a taste-test of her nipples which swelled appreciatively at his attention.<br/><br/>“Oh, Sam,” she sighed, running her fingers through his hair, holding his head in place as he kissed her, then releasing him as the cloth moved lower.  Irene closed her eyes, smiling.<br/>