Feathering the Nest

Chapter 9: Feathering the Nest

"Oh bury me not on the lone prairie,

Where the coyote howls and the wind blows free."

"Aargh."

"We're leaving the prairie behind."

"Whose idea was this, anyway?"

"We decided to look for the Blood Mountains."

"There're lots of bloody mountains ahead."

"The Blood Mountains."

"Do you have your vampire disguise ready?"

"Look, 'Tacos, Next Exit,' about eight miles."

???

"Aren't you going to have Hermione kill Padma in a fit of jealousy?" protested the Muse. "Think of how exciting it will be to write about the resulting bloodbath of retribution as Padma's relatives join the game. Or think of the poetry you could create as that two-timing bookstore owner has a moment of self realization. You could let his anguish over the strife he has created drive him to heroic deeds until his transformed self is destroyed in a cathartic cataclysm."

The two wizards shook their head no. "We can't have mayhem back at the school if this story is going to work."

The Muse brightened. "Okay, you can have Hermione castrate the double-dealing book dealer. Think of the gut-wrenching scene when his raven-haired beauty waltzes into the store to be with her beloved only to discover his separated bits in the display case for rare volumes. You could write volumes. Wait, Padma might be so insensitive as to create a scene at school."

"That's true," said Biff. "School girls are notoriously emotional."

"Besides," said Snorri, "the editor thinks we've already pushed Hermione too close to the edge for a romantic heroine."

"Romance!" thundered the Muse. She drew herself to her full height. "To Hades with that syrupy nonsense. It's power and lust and bravery and betrayal." Her eyes narrowed. "You agree don't you?"

"Yes, yes," said Snorri. "We're with you on power and bravery."

"Then have the Black sisters track down the ambusher," said the Muse. "I know they'll be worthy. Think of the descriptive passages they'll inspire as they gouge eyeballs and rip out entrails." Her eyes began to shine. "It might push the two of you to the heights of Aeschylus."

"We were thinking of working up to the major themes by way of some lust and betrayal," said Biff.

"You two are no fun," pouted the Muse.

"She's right," said Snorri. "We don't have enough bad-asses."

"Even the Deus Ex Machina Caffeinarum thought Severus was a wuss," said Biff. He had a thought. "Perhaps we could write Harmony into the story."

"Or the editor," suggested Snorri.

Biff shuddered.

"We need inspiration," they said. They looked at the Muse. "But not too much. Maybe if you juiced up the cappuccino machine?"

"It will give us an edge over the girls," observed Snorri.

Thick air, flying sparks, enunciated words, sizzling electrical cords. Biff and Snorri approached the scorched implement and drew a cup. They sipped the foamy essence of bad-ass prose and smiled. Evil has a kick.

"What's that?"

He gave a small start that caused his quill to leave a streak of ink across the parchment. He quickly crumpled it and threw it in the trash bin.

"Bloody hell, woman, can't you make some noise when you enter a room?"

"I suppose I could stumble over the cracks in the stone floor," said Andromeda.

Another imperturbable Black sister, thought Severus.

He told her that he was trying to apply Arithmancy to Potions but he was running into nonlinear transformations, and after he said that, he realized he would have to tell more lies to cover up this one, which led him to say that, despite her offer of help, he intended to take a break from the rigors of similarity classes.

She replied that her uncle was a good Arithmancer but the demands of the discipline made him a grouch too – an observation that did not have the soothing effect on Severus that one might think it would.

Andromeda scanned the syllabus for the week's classes in Potions and proceeded to the storeroom to check the supplies. As she worked, Severus considered a modification of the Headmaster's suggestion to infect Miss Granger with the spores and stake her out for the Death Eaters. Perhaps Mrs. Tonks would like to take an active role in the fight against evil. It would begin with her declaring to see the light about preserving blood purity, continue with reconciliation with her family, and conclude with her being accepted into the folds of the opposition. It was bloody brilliant, but it had the snag of infecting Mrs. Cool-and-Disdainful.

"Good afternoon, Professor," said Miss Granger on her way through the lab to join Mrs. Tonks in the storeroom.

He returned the greeting and returned to his project. Bellatrix and Narcissa were exemplary women, but the scheme to use them to spread spores was not working, and they had husbands who would certainly learn of his involvement if he did not end the relationships soon. He was considering becoming covertly involved with other wives of the opposition. He wondered which of them were dissatisfied with their husbands, and he wondered if he should begin by sending them notes as a secret admirer. He had been working on such a note when Mrs. Tonks had rudely snuck up on him.

There was a cry and the sound of glass shattering from the storeroom. They're usually not that clumsy, he thought. He heard quiet sobbing, followed by soothing noises. He concluded that Miss Granger had received only one hundred percent on some essay and Mrs. Tonks was comforting her. He also reflected that he was losing control over his student assistants to Mrs. Tonks. Perhaps we should have girls' dorms and boys' dorms with Dorm Mothers and Big Brothers, he thought.

He tried going back to his latest project, but all he could think of was his dismal life: three and a half decades of being unwanted, being an outcast, and being alone. The brightest thing in his existence was the relationship with the two Black sisters, but that was based on failed treachery. Now, his social efforts were focused on creating more counterfeit unions that he hoped would come to nothing once their purpose was served.

"Aha, we've found it," said the editor. "I told you we could raid the basement while the boys were out to lunch."

Harmony picked up the cappuccino machine. "The last act of Deus was to point us to it, an act of divine inspiration."

"Then his passing was a noble one," said the editor, "and he passed the inspiration to us."

Harmony glanced at the manuscript on their way back upstairs. "More battered psyche junk. Snorri is reading too much Batman."

After interminable dithering by the male component of the species, how pleasant it is to write that the task was accomplished by a heroine who demonstrated both intelligence and courage, for who else, other than one of the gentler kind, could, on slim evidence and against opposition, pick up the scattered pieces and knit them together, and her efforts began with the simple expedient of retrieving and reading the only piece of parchment in the trash bin that was crumpled, thus exhibiting a keen instinct for ferreting out what people wished to remain hidden, a talent that would serve her and her cause well in the coming drama.

"You're not writing secret love letters to students, are you?" asked Andromeda, confronting Severus.

There was a momentary shock from this accusation out of the blue, but as he recalled the incidents of yesterday, it dawned on him what had happened. "Most certainly not," he replied. "Can I take it that Miss Granger's distress was not due to an insufficiently high mark on an essay? And can I take it that you are snooping into my private affairs?"

"Parchment in a school trash bin is not a private affair," she asserted, "and of course, her distress was over some male. Who else wounds us so?"

"I could point out that I obviously prefer mature women, but I'm treading on a mine field if I mention that to you," he said. "Perhaps a better defense would be to ask if your eagle eye and your deep concern for female students have noticed any impropriety on my part."

"'My deep concern.' Oh great, now I'm accused of mothering them. I'm not just a mother."

"It seems I've stepped into another mine field," he said.

"Your sympathetic act and your accusing me of being touchy are not going over well," she said.

"Then I shall get huffy and say you have no right to question any of my actions, and if you want to continue this conversation, you will have to follow me to the professors' lounge since it is time for our afternoon tea. It is the end of another day of dealing with students, and none of us miss the chance to unwind. You will have me at a disadvantage since I will be relaxed and, after a fatiguing day, no longer able to keep my guard up. Also, the elves will be plying us with excellent tea along with scones, strawberries, and clotted cream, which will reduce my resistance while giving you renewed energy to pry into my dirty secrets."

"You're a sly devil, you know," she said.

Oh, what a mix human emotions are even in the most ordinary circumstances, and these circumstances were far from ordinary as Severus escorted Andromeda to the instructors' lounge and introduced her to the few professors who had not met her, for despite her initial assumption that she was an adult who had experienced the world in contrast to instructors who had remained in the scholastic cocoon, she had discovered they were highly skilled professionals who led a more varied life than one would think possible given the persona they had to present to the students, and since this was her first visit to their private enclave, she was both curious and nervous while being suspicious about Severus's activities, angry at him for dodging her questions, and grateful to him for bringing her and graciously introducing her to those present, and on Severus's part, he was annoyed by her accusations, fearful of her learning too much, and proud to seen with an attractive woman, and as the tea proceeded and Andromeda circulated and earned him envious glances from the male instructors, his annoyance and fear dissipated to leave him with a contented feeling, especially when it became clear that Andromeda favored his company, whereupon he concluded that the elves must have put something in the strawberries.

"I've reconsidered," said Andromeda after the other instructors had left to grade essays and she and Severus found a quiet corner in the lounge. "My daughter thinks highly of you and believes you're working against the Dark Lord. You must be planning some subtle subterfuge."

"I'm glad you changed your mind," he said.

"But this isn't over," she added. "I'm tired of being on the sidelines. Whatever you're doing, I'm certain I can help. I insist."

"It's a delicate affair," he said, "and certainly not one for a refined lady."

"I knew you would come around and let me help," she said.

Before our beleaguered professor could protest that she had completely misunderstood his last statement, the lady leaned in and planted a thank-you kiss on his forehead, and we can only guess at their surprise when this gesture intended to be innocent sent a shock through them that seemed to reverberate through the entire lounge, and it was in this state of giddiness that she planted a less innocent one – technique be damned, her heart was in it – and after that smackeroo, the wizard had to shift to hide an embarrassment that had popped up like a rude country-cousin at a refined tea.

Definitely something in the strawberries, he thought.

"Now," she said, "tell me what I need to do to help."

"Harmony," said the editor, "I have to go out for some scouring powder. The boys have made a total mess of our cappuccino machine."

Harmony followed the editor back to the editor's office, looked at the machine on the desk, and said, "It looks scorched. What did they do?"

The girls stared mournfully at the device and decided they needed a tea break to fortify themselves before beginning. When they returned, Harmony found Snorri reading her latest effort.

"Are you certain you want to use Andromeda? Isn't she a canon good witch?" he asked.

"It'll be high drama," said Harmony, "She reaches the heights of anguish as she struggles to overcome her deeply held moral code to make the supreme sacrifice for the greater good."

"Hmm," said Snorri.

"She finally comes to a decision and tells Severus that she's willing to shag every Death Eater that crosses her path," said Harmony.

"Girls can't say things like that."

"I'm not a girl. I'm a writer."

"I know that. I was talking about your character."

"Oh," she said. "I thought you were being sexist."

"Weren't you upset when Hermione was seduced?"

"That's different, and since you're so smart, I'll let you write this section. I'll help the editor clean the machine you and Biff destroyed."

"That'll be easier then salvaging the mess you've made of this story," said Snorri.

"Oh yeah, just because I wrote something so original that you can't plagiarize a comic book to match it doesn't mean the story is in a hole," said Harmony, gabbing a handful of colored pencils. "Get out of the way and let a real writer do her work."

"You don't have to like me," said Andromeda. "You don't even have to pretend you like me."

Bloody hell, thought Severus. I may not get out of this alive.

One can imagine how much confusion such a frank and honest statement from our heroine of the hour would create in the mind of a typical male companion not used to reading or caring about any clue as to the emotional state of those often asked to bear a greater share of life's travail, and would it not be doubly so in this case when one of the kind-hearted has quietly and with great dignity accepted a task that had repeatedly proved itself beyond the capacity of the more rugged of the species, and even more confusion was generated when the one on whom the burden should have fallen had hesitantly explained the nature of the spores and, instead of receiving a return blast of indignation, had received a merciful show of understanding for his less than honest interactions with the heroine's sisters and also had received an immediately conceived plan since, in accord with her warm nature, the dutiful lady had agreed to watch over a friend's cats and plants while the friend visited her mother for the weekend, and she had announced that she could stay at the friend's house on the excuse of convenience thus creating a perfect opportunity for the transference of the spores, about which some would hold it too delicate to reveal, but using the courage of our determined lady as an avatar to which a timid writer can only aspire, the narrator will attempt an unadorned account of our lady greeting her reputably equal partner at the door with the gallant affirmation of understanding and intent that is recorded above, and despite his poor response to such poise, she exhibited such solicitude for his comfort that he was soon relaxing on the couch, and so well did she play her role that he found it quite natural when she insinuated herself onto his lap where the close proximity of her charms and the noble aspects of her countenance reminded him what a marvelous agent she would be for the undoing of the forces of evil, and for the immediate future, her warm and shapely thigh with a glimpse of its inner glory afforded by a conveniently short skirt had that part of his anatomy responsible for the first part of the impending task not only ready and willing but even eager, and it is with this inadequate preamble, that we must not only pardon but try to appreciate her forthrightness in carrying the project through to completeness, for in his initial effort, the wizard, as is so often the case, did merely complete his niggardly part and possibly transfer the spores without eliciting much response from his partner, but seeking total assurance, the dedicated lady did insist upon repeated efforts until, honesty forces the author to state, the liquid slaps and accompanying moans reached past her waving feet to the exalted heights of her devotion to the enterprise, and during the final sessions of coupling, performed to guarantee mission success, her unswerving enthusiasm and dedication to the cause inspired even her flagging companion to perform above and beyond the call of duty for the sake of the good and the just.

"A truly extraordinary woman," said Snorri.

"I've more than done my part in getting this show on the road," said Harmony, gathering her pencils. "Try not to mess everything up while I help the editor restore our cappuccino machine."

Later, that same weekend, Severus was sitting on the edge of the bed and wondering how many springs Andromeda had broken. She interrupted his idle musings by bringing him a tea.

"A Knut for your thoughts," she said.

"I'm thinking I can't do this. I'll use your sisters as I originally intended."

"You can't," she said. "They're too vulnerable, and you know it."

"And you're not?"

"Everyone knows my sisters and their weaknesses, and everyone knows they're in disfavor with the Dark Lord, which means it's open season on them."

She sat beside him. "They've survived because the wizards think you'll blast their bits off if they look at the Black sisters cross-eyed, which is really very sweet of you," she said, giving him a hug, which he liked more than he wanted to admit.

"It's more than just your survival."

"Oh, you're jealous. I like that," she said. "With a few charms, I'll look like my cousin Terry from New Zealand, a refined version of Bellatrix. All the lechers will be careful because I'm an unknown who might become the Dark Lord's new favorite."

"You're my new favorite."

"Only your favorite," she asked, "not your one and only?"

"You're a married woman."

"There is that," she admitted, "but a lady can have hopes, can't she?"

She looked into the distance. "I know my family, and it's going to take more than spores to change them. You're full of spores, but you're still scheming."

"Thanks."

"When I was growing up, there was a room we were not allowed to enter," she said. "I'll wager it's full of incriminating evidence, and it's a perfect place for a tryst."

He was thinking that she was correct: the Black family never stopped scheming.

Several weeks later, after all reasonable people had gone to bed, Andromeda appeared at Severus's place, knocked, entered, and announced that the evening had been a success.

"I don't want to hear the body count," said Severus, sticking his fingers in his ears.

"I was referring to this, my sweet," she said, handing him a document. "It's from the secret room."

Severus imagined the recent activities in a secret chamber and groaned.

"Don't fall apart on me now. I need you," she said. "Get a light, and let's see what we have."

It is only due to remarkable and entirely unforeseen circumstances that the following tale has come to the light of day, which, in its own way, is fitting since the tale itself consists of remarkable and unforeseen events. It is a story of lives that while full of triumph are also filled with such strife and anguish that it is well that the characters capable of effecting these actions would be of the type to be unaffected by them. But the story is getting ahead of itself. It would be well to begin at the beginning, but this artistic device, although producing much satisfaction in fiction, must be foregone for this narrative, where the episodes arose like a rocky crags out of a turbulent sea – crags on which hopes were dashed but the survivors clung and, by the grace of the gods, prospered.

"I hate literary efforts," said Andromeda.

"Me too," said Severus. "We need information, not hyped prose."

"How soon before we get the cappuccino machine back?" asked Snorri.

"It shouldn't take too long. The girls want to scrub it till it shines. They're implying that we're not tidy, that we're dirty little boys who swiped their precious toy," said Biff, "but our counter in this psychological cold war is to hint that a lack of foamy elixir might cause us to miss a deadline."

The muse stared morosely at her triple espresso.

"Don't withdraw on us," Biff told her. "At five o'clock sharp, we change to mead laced with scotch, I mean ambrosia. And Snorri wants to try his hand at the Wild West, which can't be that different from the time of Aeschylus."

The muse brightened.

"Thar's varmints in them thar hills."

The crowd at The Horse and The Duck were silent. The railroad worker had entered ponderously, strode straight to the bar, and knocked back a stiff one before proclaiming what most of the customers were thinking.

Wyatt Elf looked up from his cards. "'Them thar hills' are outside my jurisdiction, but I can always take a day off and go out for a ride."

"That's dangerous. That's asking for trouble," said Calamity Cho. She turned to Pansy Pinkerton and said, "Tell him to be reasonable."

Pansy looked at Doc Severson who raised the bet and said, "I could use some fresh air."

"I'm only hired to protect the payroll," said Pansy "but sooner or later, varmints-in-them-thar-hills decide to go after the silver."

"I can ride and shoot as well as anyone," declared Calamity.

They all looked at Buffalo Biff who was calling the bet. "You talked me into it," he said.

After three days of scouring the hills and finding nothing, they decided to surreptitiously watch the railroad workers' camp from a nearby hill. Two nights later there was a commotion in the camp. They rode down in the morning to talk to the foreman and the guards. No one had seen anything. The foreman thought either Indians had snuck in to steal supplies or some worker or workers had decided to desert and had stolen some supplies as they left. The five searched the area around the camp, but they found no sign or tracks for either Indians or deserting workers.

"Creatures of the night," suggested Calamity.

"That range over there is now called the Sangre de Cristos, but its original name was Blood Mountains," said Doc.

"Lovely," said Pansy. "What kind of creatures, do you think?"

According to Doc, the Indians had always avoided certain parts of the range. There were tales of meeting lost friends or relatives, but they were transformed and dangerous. There were no Indian traditions of the full moon being especially dangerous, and someone transformed into a werewolf would not be recognizable.

"Vampires," said Wyatt.

"Looks like," said Biff.

"I'd prefer werewolves," said Calamity. "Silver bullets are easier to make than wood bullets."

"Doesn't Harmony want to write the next section?" asked Biff.

"Don't tempt me," said Snorri. "It's time to return to the adventures of the virtuous Saint Andromeda. For some reason, Harmony has the ability to write duplicitous characters as easily as she breathes. I want to do more Wild West, but duty calls."

"Brave man," said Biff.

Andromeda arrived at Severus's place in the wee hours of the morning to find him waiting up for her with a pot of strong tea. She sat and stared into space while she drank two cups. Finally, she looked at him and said, "Hold me."

They moved to the couch where he held her until the demons left and she showed signs of life.

"I grabbed two more items from that super-secret room where wizards take their doxy of the evening," she said. "I have no idea what they are, but they must be valuable if they're kept there."

She opened her purse and took out two pieces of parchment.

"Your purse?" asked Severus. "I thought you would hide them in a more private place."

"In my bra?" replied Andromeda. "Every wizard at the party was trying to get his hands in there."

"Oh, right," said Severus. "Well, let's see what you have."

"You've already seen what I have, but I can remind you if you think your memory is faulty." She assumed an offended air. "But we'll look at what you consider more important first." She unfolded the documents for examination.

"This one is junk," said Andromeda. "As a little girl I had to memorize the family tree." She looked into the distance as the facts drilled repeatedly into her returned. "Sirius, Phineas (disowned), Arcturus, Belvina, and Cygnus were the progeny of Phineas and Ursula. This one has them descending from Guy Black and H something. It's blurred. It's nonsense." She threw the parchment into the trash bin with disgust.

"This might be what we're looking for," said Severus. "It's a receipt for shipping something not specified from Romania to the States."

"Dragons' blood," said Andromeda. "It's rare in the States and strictly controlled by the Romanian Ministry." Her face lit up. "That's it. That's the big family secret. Their fortune was built smuggling dragons' blood."

"If it's discovered, the fines and penalties will ruin the family," said Severus.

"We have to put this somewhere extra safe," said Andromeda. "We can counter any nefarious scheme they have by threatening to expose them."

"We obviously hide it in your purse," he said.

"I don't know if I can keep this up much longer," said Biff.

"You mean how much longer Harmony and the editor are going to be mad at us?" asked Snorri.

"Oh, those two being angry and not talking to us is a relief," said Biff. "It's the eternal wrangling about plot, their accusations we can't write relationships, the whole bloody lack of real action – that's the killer."

"You're holding out okay," said Snorri.

"I'm about to crack," said Biff.

"Listen, why don't we blow everything off, write some Wild West, and let the girls rescue the story for once?"

Biff smiled. "Good idea."

"You're not fooling everyone, you know."

Doc Severson looked up from his ham and eggs to see the schoolmarm, Honoria Farmer, looking as fresh as a kitten on a calico pillow and as accusing as a cat left out in the rain.

He stood and pulled out a chair for her. "May I offer you a coffee?"

She sat and said, "The locals are turning out wood bullets on lathes for you, and while they're puzzled about it, they accept the story that you're going green."

"And you?" he asked.

"I keep wondering if there's another way to handle the problem," she said.

"Dynamite," he suggested.

"That would separate them into their constituent parts, but then it would be hard to put a wood bullet into their hearts," she said, "unless you're a great shot."

He started to protest but noticed she was smiling. "Are you saying we should start practicing with heart-shaped skeet?"

"There might be another approach," she said. "What are they stealing from the camps?"

There was a screech from the utility room.

"Probably a mouse," said Biff as he Snorri raced down the hall to save the girls.

"Look. Look at this," said the editor, "Look at the inscription on the base of the cappuccino machine."

Biff and Snorri looked: Made in Runestone, Colorado, USA

"We got a 'Thank You' note," said Pansy.

"And more," said Calamity. She opened the leather pouch and took out two rubies and a silver bar.

"Better than we had hoped for," said Doc.

They all looked at the schoolmarm.

"It was simple deduction," said Honoria. "The vampires probably fled Romania to escape persecution. They were able to bring their essentials, some memorabilia, and most of their valuables, but they miss the good things that life had to offer in their home country."

"So we contacted the dragon tamers in Romania, ordered the goods, and set out a wagonload of plum brandy and assorted Romanian wines," said Biff.

"We're keeping the receipts like real business people," said Calamity, "and the Romanian agent did as we asked and didn't specify the goods so that no one can guess what we are doing and intrude on our market. The agent signed herself as 'Odelle, Special Agent for the Special since 1453' and included a complimentary sample of blood sausage." Calamity's brow furrowed. "This is too cozy. I'm feeling hemmed in."

Pansy nodded. "The dragon tamers were enthusiastic about the brandy. Apparently, it can take your head off, but they thought the wine was sissy."

Doc looked at Honoria. "Mighty good thinking, ma'am."

Honoria blushed, but charged ahead. "We're ready for the next step. We can run this advertisement in all the big city newspapers."

COMPANIONS WANTED

Do you enjoy late hours and consider sunrises overrated?

Are YOU interested in a LONG LIFE with people of refined tastes?

Has the recent WAR or unforeseen circumstances

DEPRIVED you of family and friends?

Are you a young lady of above average looks?

If so, please send a letter complete with photos

to

Post Office Box 001, Runestone, Colorado

"Well, this trip is starting to look like a waste of time and energy," said Biff. "We flew to the States, drove across umpteen miles of prairie, found the foothills of the Blood Mountains, and located the ghost town of Runestone."

"We had the right idea," said Snorri.

"But we were too late," said the editor. "All the records have been removed from the courthouse."

"We're probably a hundred years too late," said Harmony. "That one historian we talked to said the town was abandoned around 1890. He claims it's something of a mystery. Usually, the mines peter out and the land is overgrazed, but the persistent rumor for Runestone is some kind of strange spore, most likely from contact from some wild tribe in the mountains. He thinks it mutated into something benign before there was any panic. At any rate, the people who don't want anyone to know what happened probably returned about that time and destroyed the evidence."

"I wonder if they destroyed all the evidence," said Biff.

"What?" said the others.

"Wait, you might be right," said the editor. "If what you wrote while tanked on cappuccino was inspired, that should give us a clue."

"We can't ask the Muse," said Biff. "She said England was bad enough and there was no way she would travel to the American Southwest."

"The best bet for finding a written record is the schoolmarm's shack," said the editor.

Two hours later, they had located the ruins of a lonely shack in the woods. Beside the rusty bedsprings, was a rickety cabinet, and in the cabinet, there was an old diary.

"Careful with it," said Snorri.

"I'm being careful," said Harmony. "Here're the last entries. There're dates, but no year."

"We can assume it's the early 1870's," said Biff.

May 14

Pansy claims we were overly conscientious. I blame the wine. Curmudgeons who know no better would blame the dynamite plum brandy, but that's because they've only experienced cheap binges, not the effect of daily living a quality existence. It started when the second wagonload arrived for the vampires. Biff and Calamity wanted to sample the contents to 'make sure we are supplying our customers with a quality product.' Well, we are. Now, we want the quality product instead of the local swill.

May 17

The boys are going to get themselves killed. The girls aren't any better. And it's not my fault. All I did was ask if Chief Sitting Riddle and his tribe had anything to do with the vampires. Well, yes. After some maneuvering, there was a powwow and we discovered that the tribe believes the Great Spirit placed it on earth to act as a buffer between the vampires and their human prey. And then all I did was ask if vampires had to have human blood. Well, no. Then Biff and Calamity and Pansy got all worked up and perverted my idea that peaceful trade is better than conflict. Now, they and Doc are out rustling cattle that they will take to the Blood Mountains where no rancher will follow. I am really worried. Supplying the vampires with female companions that no one will miss is one thing, but stealing cattle is serious.

June 10

Something has to be done. Our little group is about to burst at the seams. We all agreed we can't display our new wealth. We would be robbed and killed. The mob would backtrack our activities, which would lead to the vampires and Indians, and the result would be a three way slaughter fest. There lies the problem. We want to expand our horizons. The simple pleasures of a small town, which were sufficient when we were poor, no longer entertain us. I had not realized that being able to have a grand time but refraining from doing so could create such stress. The worst part is that there aren't any more life-threatening challenges: we're trading with the vamps, at peace with the Indians, and have rustled enough cattle. It's only a matter of time before Calamity and Doc revert to type and begin provoking the townspeople into gun duels.

June 15

Calamity's head has been quite turned by an English tourist. He seems to be doing her good since her poker game has improved. He's a sportsman, and before dawn, he and Calamity ride out to blow away some of the local wildlife, usually deer or rabbit, but he has come to agree with Calamity that squirrel give good game – a man after a girl's heart. They arrive back in town about noon, give the day's bag to the hotel staff, and clean up for the afternoon round of cards.

June 21

I had a twinge of guilt today and mentioned that the vampires were paying us with valuables taken from their victims. Calamity's Englishman shrugged it off and said that any substantial amount of wealth was going to be blood money. He and Doc and Biff get along famously.

July 5

Calamity's Englishman made a suggestion that makes a lot of sense. Instead of piecemeal bargaining with the vampires, make a long-term agreement for a substantial amount of remuneration. He pointed out that a large sum could be invested and the return would pay for the supplies and support a comfortable life style. His phrase was 'live off the interest instead of the principal.' He also mentioned that London would be an excellent base of operation, but I think this reveals his true motive. He wants Calamity to return to England with him. But still, it makes sense.

July 7

I shouldn't write this, but Pansy and Biff are shacking up. I shouldn't write this either, but I think that, under their facades, they are two outlaws whose hearts beat together. They're thinking about London, but Buffalo Biff says he'll have to change his monicker if he wants to be accepted in polite society.

August 2

More legerdemain. I asked Doc if this would ever stop. He replied that we were setting ourselves up for the best kind – con the aristocrats, become one, and live off the populace. I always suspected Doc to be a social cynic. Calamity's Englishman claims that an old family is dying out and we should present ourselves as a long lost branch of the family. The boys introduced the mayor and the county clerk to the joys of plum brandy, and once they were no longer capable of interfering, Doc and the Englishman did some extensive alterations of the records in the court house. Okay, I helped. They would have botched it otherwise.

August 17

Doc and I finally married, and we're off to London to begin a new existence, but I have to remember not to call him Doc anymore. We are Mr. and Mrs. Guy Black. I believe it is a good omen for our future as a couple, even though the others are trying to tell me it was beginner's luck, that I won the round of cards for the special coffee maker.

"We're saved," said the editor.

"We write a different ending," said Snorri. "The spores die out and Brit wizardry returns to inspiring insightful narratives."

Harmony sighed. "With only a couple more colored pencils, we can relate how the Black sisters' involvement with Severus has deepened them and made them more aware of their duties to the social order and filled them with a desire to reform their husbands in order to uphold the family values they have come to realize are essential, along with handing that underhanded bookstore owner what he deserves in such a manner that any reader who once held him in esteem will comprehend the magnitude of his perfidy and relish the justice dealt to him while, at the same time, letting Mr. Snape perceive how misguided his affections have been and, full of remorse, undergo the agonies of winning the affection and approval of the one he should always have held dearest until, out of the generosity of her heart, the bravest heroine of all forgives his past transgressions, ends his suffering, and in a full bloom of harmony that lifts the audience's spirit, Hermione and Severus admit they are soul mates."

Biff stared into the distance as plot lines gamboled across the landscape like fawns in the early spring. "The trade agreement goes sour, Doc and Pansy and Calamity die a heroic death saving the town from the enraged vampires, Honoria returns to the East with her grief, Wyatt stays to reminisce about the good old days, and Biff rides into the sunset on his way to his next adventure."

END