Jess blushed a bit as the wagon master left her alone with Bethie, Penelope, and the onlooking crowd.  Most were dispersing, but a few were casting glances back over their shoulders at the 'hot head'.  Probably thinking of her as jealous, Jessie thought.  But what really made her skin flush pink was the thought that in order to make it look right, she ought to put her arms around her 'wife' to make sure she was alright.  She hesitated a moment, then impulsively reached for Bethie just as Penelope made her remark about going to fetch more water.<br/><br/>As a result, the half hug was awkward and seemed forced, even more so since Bethie had begun to turn back to the stew, then perhaps sensing Jessie's intention, had started to turn back.  The whole thing turned into a sort of 'hug stutter'.  But once committed, Jessie decided to try to make it look good, even brushing a quick peck on Bethie's forehead before turning and grabbing up the pail, heading quickly for the stream again.<br/><br/>Once away from the onlooking gazes of strangers, and the knowing eyes of the two women she was traveling with, Jess sank to her knees in the grass next to the stream.  The realization of how close she had come to shooting the muleskinner, and of how they all had nearly been exposed came over her.  She began to tremble, and put her head in her hands, rocking back and forth.  This wasn't going to be easy.  Of them all, she felt like she had it the hardest.  She had to act not only like someone she wasn't, but pose as the opposite gender too!  She couldn't give in to her feelings like this, nor to her anger like before.  She could not be emotional like a normal woman may be.  Instead she would have to try to be more stoic, more like a man, emotionally distant and insensitive.<br/><br/>In her memories, she went back to another time, recalling the camaraderie in the camps among the boys.  They showed their feelings too, she realized, if in a different way.  But that was war.  It was expected that even the hardest man would be affected by those hardships and the terror, grief, and loss that war brought.  Could she let even that much feeling show now, under these circumstances?<br/><br/>And what was she feeling?  Once the fear and stress eased a bit, she realized that the other thing she felt was....pride?  She wasn't sure she should call it that.  But part of her felt good about protecting her companions, even if their relationship was a ruse.  In an odd little way, it made her feel closer to Bethie, even for just having acted the part of a jealous husband.  And even the yankee, Penelope, had a little more warmth in her voice, it seemed, when she'd spoken to Jess about the water.<br/><br/>Reminded, Jessie filled the bucket with fresh clear water, and started back up to the wagon, glancing over to the oxen to make sure they were okay.  She wasn't sure how long the watch would last, but she figured she'd have plenty of time to think about things then.  Returning to the wagon, Jess delivered the water and hurriedly ate a bowl of stew when it was ready.  Bethie wasn't too bad of a cook, Jessie thought as she ate.  It might not have been the finest fare she'd had, but certainly not the worst either, and it was hot and filling at the end of a long day.  That mattered the most.<br/><br/>As she ate, her eyes followed Bethie as she moved around the campfire.  She didn't seem to have the look that Jessie would have attributed to most whores.  If anything, she looked like a fresh faced farm girl.  Jessie imagined she could find the same face on half a dozen of the other women in the wagon train, wives and daughters of the men traveling west.<br/><br/>'But Bethie is my wife.  I'm lucky to have her.'<br/><br/>The thought hit her out of the blue, and she found it so shocking that she nearly dropped the spoon she was eating with.  Jessie could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks again, so she quickly finished and grabbed her rifle, nodded to her companions and excused herself to head to the lead wagon for her assignment.<br/><br/>++++++++++++++++++++<br/><br/>Jessie carried her Henry as she walked quietly along the line of wagons.  Everywhere she passed, the campfires were dwindling, people were putting away the last of their belongings and preparing for sleep.  It had been a long day, and it would begin another long day in the morning.  Lanterns were lit within the covered framework of the wagons she passed, showing the shadows of the occupants as they readied themselves for bed.  Jessie sensed an overall mood of excitement, and tired satisfaction, mixed with the anticipation of the journey ahead.<br/><br/>She walked along, listening to the night descending on the countryside.  Crickets sang their incessant melody.  In the distance, she could hear the steady thrumming of tree frogs and even the lighter sound of 'Spring peepers'.  It reminded her of her former home in Georgia.  She mused sadly that she might never see it again.  Her thoughts turned to all that had happened since the day she left Greenbriar behind.  From the day that she set out by riverboat down the Coosa, heading for the Gulf and eventually the Mississippi, all the way until Bethie had run in to that hotel cafe, looking for help, someone to hide her away or help her get out of town.  Jessie relived it all.<br/><br/>She didn't even know what made her want to help the prostitute.  She told herself that it was just in their mutual interest, and that they happened to be going the same way, but she knew that wasn't all of it.  She could have posed as a man on her own, or perhaps could have ended up traveling with the Yankee woman somehow.  But it had been Bethie.<br/><br/>Jess realized that her thought had once again come around to the woman posing as her wife.  And she realized something else too.  There was a new addition to the night sounds.<br/><br/>As Jessie patrolled along the line of wagons, many of them dimly lit from within by candle or lantern light, she could hear the sounds of intimacy and passion rising in the form of whispered sighs and breathless moans, carnal grunts and groans.  Wagon after wagon she passed, and it seemed that in just about every other one, the occupants were 'celebrating' their first night on the trail.<br/><br/>Jessie blushed as she met the silent gaze of a pair of young girls, waiting patiently outside the wagon they shared with their parents while their mother and father, presumably, carried on inside.  Sometimes her patrol would take her past the rear of the wagons, and she could catch a glimpse inside.  Quick stolen glances of men and women too, nude and caught up in a lover's embrace.  In other places, the scene played out in shadow puppet form, projected on the canvas coverings of the wagons.<br/><br/>It all began to have it's effect on her.  Oh how long had it been since she'd felt the arms of her husband's wrapped around her?  Josiah had been dead nearly three years, and gone to the army two years before that.  She'd tried to remain true, even to his memory since his death.  But now, she imagined she could even still feel the pressure on her lips where she'd brushed them on Bethie's forehead earlier.  Even so chaste and simple a contact seemed to enflame her senses now.<br/><br/>Jessie didn't remember much of the rest of her watch, only vague impressions of a rough and unsavory man nudging her and winking conspiratorially, and the many fevered stimuli of her senses as the wagon train's company celebrated into the night.  By the time she was relieved and allowed to go to her own wagon, she was quite unsettled in her thoughts and aroused in her body.  She paused at the back of her own wagon, now dark within, knowing that inside lay two women she barely knew, and yet she was supposed to be married to one of them, supposed to act the part of a husband.<br/><br/>As she hesitated before climbing inside, the rough looking man passed, giving her a broad toothless grin and another suggestive wink.  "I caught a look-see at thet purty li'l un you got waitin' fer ye earlier tonight.  Y'er a lucky feller!"<br/><br/>Jessie blushed deeply, thankful for the dark surrounding her, and quickly hoisted herself into the wagon, if for no other reason than to get away from the man's lewd suggestive stare.  Once inside, she found she could barely see.  Vaguely she recalled Penelope's earlier suggestion as to how they should sleep, while she'd been eating her supper.  But her thoughts had been on other things and she hadn't paid much attention.  She only remembered that she was supposed to sleep next to Bethie, since they were posing as a couple.  And now, with the crude man just outside, Jessie supposed she was expected to do more than just sleep next to her pretty young wife.<br/><br/>She deliberately undressed in the dark.  She was determined not to offer any sort of show like the ones she's seen passing the other wagons, especially if the man was still lurking out there.  The wrong view could spell disaster for their little plan.  Jessie knelt at the end of the mattress they had laid out to sleep on.  She slipped off the trousers that belonged to Penelope's late husband, and then paused.  She could barely make out the two sleeping forms on the mattress.  Now which side was she supposed to sleep on?<br/><br/>As she studied on it, it seemed that there was a bit more room on one side of the mattress, and she thought the other women must have been saving that spot for her.  She crawled up and took her place, laying on her side in a sort of spooning position.  There was little space available, so it's the only way she could think of.  But even so, it pressed her close against the warm body beside her, and the sounds and images that had been impressed on her mind earlier came back to her in force.<br/><br/>Without thinking, she let her hand stray along the curve of a hip in front of her, fingers trailing over womanly flesh, then back up to a slender waist, and along an arm.  She lifted her hand to gently lift aside soft tresses, and impulsively placed a kiss on the nape of a warm neck, her breath washing over the skin hotly as she whispered, "Bethie, are you awake?  It's Jessie."  She continued to kiss along the graceful neck, waiting for a response.<br/>