From: char@chaffin.com   
      
   ROCKY MOUNTAIN INTERLUDE, Chapter Four   
   By Char Chaffin and Tess   
   MSR, Casefile, AU   
   Rating:  Strong R   
   Spoilers:  FTF, Most of Season Seven   
   Feedback:  to Tnv099@aol.com; char@chaffin.com   
      
   Headers and summary, see Part 1   
      
      
      
   Chapter Four   
   Millersburg, Colorado   
      
      
   They crested a hill and the quiet suddenly dropped away.  On the   
   other side of the hill was a bustling town.  They immediately   
   recognized the basic structures as the same dilapidated buildings   
   they had encountered on their drive the day before.  But this was no   
   ghost town.  Millersburg was alive and humming with activity.   
      
   "Oh, my God," Scully breathed.  "How? I really didn't believe... I   
   still can't.  But, oh.  Look at this, Mulder."   
      
   He *was* looking and despite his more ready belief, still couldn't   
   grasp what he was seeing.  Somehow, some way they had been   
   transported back to the nineteenth century.   
      
   Horses and wagons vied for space on the dirt streets with people   
   darting from one establishment to another.  A raised, wooden sidewalk   
   connected the buildings.  Their guesses from the prior day had been   
   very close to the mark. A quick glance around the town showed a   
   general store, saloon and telegraph office along with a number of   
   other businesses.   
      
   Women in long dresses and prairie bonnets walked through the streets   
   carrying baskets brimming with their day's purchases.  Horses tied   
   near a trough dipped their heads to lap up the cool water.  Despite   
   the pre-noon hour, a few men loitered outside the saloon door while   
   others could be seen going about their jobs. At the far end of town,   
   they saw children chasing each other through a field near a small   
   schoolhouse.   
      
   So entranced were they by the scene, they forgot to keep out of   
   sight and failed to hear the sound of approaching footsteps until it   
   was too late.   
      
   "You're strangers 'round these parts."  Startled, they turned to   
   face the owner of the voice.   
      
   "Excuse me?" Scully tightened her grip on Mulder's hand and shifted   
   closer to him.  Although they had stolen the dress so that she   
   wouldn't stand out in a crowd, they had hoped to lie low and stay out   
   of sight for at least a little while longer.  They had no plan in   
   place.  No cover story.   
      
   "I said you're strangers."  A woman of an indeterminate age held her   
   hand over her brow to shade her eyes from the sun.  "I've never seen   
   you around here before."   
      
   Caught off balance, they stared at her dumbly.  The woman cocked her   
   head to one side, her eyes flitting from one face to the other.   
      
   "You have names, don't you?" she prompted.   
      
   "Oh!" Mulder exclaimed.  "Of course."  Thinking quickly, he slipped   
   his arm around Scully's waist and hugged her to his side.  "My name   
   is... William - Will Mulder.  And this is my... my wife, Kate."  He   
   scrubbed his hand against his jeans and held it out.  The woman   
   hesitated a moment before shaking his hand.   
      
   "Where are you from?"   
      
   "Virginia, ma'am," he replied politely.  "Just outside of Washington."   
      
   "That's a long ways from here. I don't see a wagon or any horses..."   
   She glanced around and planted her hands on her hips.  "Don't tell me   
   you walked all the way from Virginia," she harrumphed   
   disbelievingly.   
      
   "Oh, no ma'am."  Mulder pasted his most charming and beguiling smile   
   on his face and laughed softly.  "We... we took the train as far as   
   far as we could." He prayed that his knowledge of the history of the   
   expansion of the country would hold up to scrutiny. "And we've been   
   riding stage coaches ever since."   
      
   "The stage only comes to Millersburg twice a month."  A note of   
   doubt crept into her voice.  "And it's not due here for another week."   
      
   "Yes, ma'am," he nodded his head earnestly.  "We weren't traveling   
   to... Millersburg, you say?"  His lips turned down and he sighed   
   heavily.  A small part of him was enjoying creating this story.  "We   
   were traveling to Denver, but our stage was robbed."   
      
   The woman pressed her fingers to her mouth and gasped, "Indians?"   
      
   He shook his head.  "No, ma'am.  We didn't see any Indians.  Just   
   three men on horseback.  They took everything we had, didn't they,   
   honey?"  His arm tightened around Scully's waist, prompting her reply.   
      
   "Yes." She fought the urge to send him a warning glare. "Everything."   
      
   He resumed the narrative.  "We've been walking ever since.  This   
   town is the first sign of civilization that we've seen in three   
   days."  He was making the story up on the fly and hoping that it   
   sounded believable.   
      
   The woman stared at them for another moment, lips pursed as she   
   considered their story.  Suddenly, her stern features noticeably   
   softened and a friendly smile wreathed her face.   
      
   "Mercy!  You must be exhausted." She patted a hand against Scully's   
   arm; then her fingers plucked at the loose material in the waist of   
   Scully's too-large dress.  "Looks like you've lost some weight."  She   
   made a tsk'ing sound. "And you're such a tiny thing to begin with."   
   Before Scully could take irritated exception at being called 'tiny',   
   the woman gave Scully another quick once-over; then pointed to her   
   hair.  "Guess I thought Indians right off because it looks as if   
   someone cut off all your hair."  Though her words were innocuous   
   enough, her tone held some lingering doubt.   
      
   Scully fought to keep blank panic from her face.  She hadn't even   
   given a thought to how odd her hairstyle would look in an era when a   
   woman's crowning glory was long, luxurious hair.  If only they'd   
   swiped a bonnet as well as the dress...   
      
   Thinking fast, she passed a hand over her short hair and blurted out   
   the first thing she could fabricate.  "I had... a fever.  I had to   
   have all of my hair cut off to help bring it down."  She hated lying   
   to this poor woman, but didn't see any viable choice.   
      
   "Oh, you poor dear!  No wonder you look as if a strong wind would   
   blow you over!  A fever!  And having to lose your hair, too... Well,   
   it'll all grow back, and be as pretty as ever.  Such a lovely shade   
   of red!"  The woman gave Scully a reassuring smile and exclaimed,   
   "Where are my manners?  My name is Elizabeth Weston.  Libby to my   
   friends," she added.  "I'm sure you could use something nourishing   
   to eat."  She began to make her way down the hill toward town.   
      
   "Oh, no," Scully protested.  "We don't want to be any trouble."   
      
   Libby looked over her shoulder and squinted back up at them. "No   
   trouble.  No trouble at all."  She continued down the hill.  "Come   
   along."   
      
   Scully's chin dropped to her chest, her hair swinging forward to   
   obscure her face.  "Will and Kate?" she asked from behind the coppery   
   curtain.  She lifted her head and raised wide eyes to him.   
   "Seriously?"   
      
   Mulder gently smoothed her hair away from her cheeks.  "I don't   
   know," he shrugged.  "Fox just doesn't seem to fit in nineteenth   
   century Colorado."  He huffed out a sarcastic laugh.  "Doesn't fit in   
   the twenty-first century either," he complained.  "And I figured that   
   if we were going to use my middle name, we might as well use yours."   
      
   She rolled her eyes.  "Mulder, what are we doing?" She glanced down   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)