From: char@chaffin.com   
      
   ROCKY MOUNTAIN INTERLUDE, Chapter Nine   
   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 Nine   
   Nulty Homestead   
      
      
   The insistent crowing of a rooster ruined Scully's plan to sleep   
   late.  She pushed up on one elbow and rubbed her eyes tiredly while   
   Mulder grunted and tugged the pillow over his ears.  She looked   
   toward the small window to see pearly gray light beyond the glass and   
   judged it to be about six o'clock.  With Mulder not having to go to   
   work, they had gotten two more hours of sleep than they had in the   
   last few days, but she found herself wishing that Libby Weston hadn't   
   dropped off the promised fowl yesterday.  She plopped back down onto   
   the mattress and buried her face against the warm, bare expanse of   
   Mulder's back, trying to ignore the racket coming from the chicken   
   coop.   
      
   "Don't those things come with a snooze alarm?" she grumbled against   
   his skin.   
      
   "You could always cook it for dinner tonight," Mulder suggested   
   sleepily from beneath the pillow.  "I'm betting that would be a   
   pretty effective way to shut him up."   
      
   Scully huffed out a tired laugh.  "Sorry, I draw the line at   
   plucking my food before eating it."   
      
   The rooster crowed again and Scully flung back the covers and   
   crawled out of bed.   
      
   "Where are you going?" Mulder mumbled.   
      
   She pried up one corner of the pillow and found his eyes stubbornly   
   closed against the intruding light.  She brushed her lips against his   
   bristled chin and let the pillow fall back into place.   
      
   "Outhouse," she groaned miserably.  She ignored the muffled snort of   
   laughter coming from beneath the pillow and dragged on yesterday's   
   clothes for the trip outside.  She guessed that the outhouse was   
   state-of-the-art for its time but she still found the experience   
   repugnant and longed for the gleaming porcelain fixtures of the   
   spotless bathroom in her apartment.  She returned to the cabin to   
   find Mulder asleep again.  Quietly moving around the small bedroom,   
   Scully brushed her teeth and quickly washed up.  She changed into   
   clean clothes and stifling a yawn, wandered into the kitchen.   
      
   Although soft light filtered through the glass of the window, she   
   struck a match and touched it to the wick of an oil lamp.  With the   
   improved lighting, she tied an apron around her waist and set about   
   starting breakfast.  Less intimidated by the cast iron stove, Scully   
   built a small fire beneath the burners and carefully added kindling   
   before replacing the metal lids.  As the stove heated, she reached   
   for the small sack of coffee beans, pouring the beans into a wooden   
   grinder and turning the brass crank until the beans were ground into   
   a fine powder.  Setting the coffee aside, she picked up a bucket and   
   headed out for what she had now learned would be the first of many   
   trips to and from the pump.   
      
   Stepping outside, Scully took a deep breath of the fresh mountain   
   air.  As she walked to the water pump, she noted how the rising sun   
   bathed the mountain peaks in a soft, pink glow as the sun rose   
   higher.  She cranked the handle of the pump and cool water gushed   
   into the bucket at her feet.  As she carried the sloshing bucket of   
   water back toward the cabin, she remembered the chickens.  She walked   
   toward the coop and set the bucket of water down near the fence that   
   ran around the perimeter of the small wooden building.   
      
   Opening the burlap sack of feed that Libby had brought the prior   
   day, Scully scooped a measure of corn into a metal pie plate.  She   
   stepped into the small yard of the coop, amused at the way the   
   rooster squawked once or twice and strutted around the fence line,   
   careful to keep his distance from her.  When she scattered a handful   
   of corn onto the dirt, however, the rooster qyuckly moved closer   
   and began pecking at his breakfast.  She could hear the quiet   
   rustling and clucking of the hens; she peeked inside and in the dim   
   light could make out the three hens nesting in the straw piled on   
   the waist-high ledge.   
      
   "Guess I should probably check to see if there are any eggs," she   
   muttered.  Libby had told her that it was likely that the hens might   
   not lay any eggs for the first day or so until they had settled into   
   their new home, but suggested that she check anyway and let the hens   
   grow accustomed to her.  Scully edged toward the roosting hens and   
   stopped about a foot away from the ledge.  She studied the chickens   
   and pondered her options.  Did she just slip a hand underneath and   
   feel around for an egg, she wondered.  She realized that was probably   
   something she should have thought to ask Libby.   
      
   "Here goes nothing," she murmured.  She took two more steps until   
   she was within reaching distance of the ledge.  "Good morning,   
   ladies."  She stretched out a cautious hand and gingerly slid it   
   toward one of the hens.  The chicken let out a loud squawk and   
   fluttered her feathers indignantly.  Scully drew in a bracing breath,   
   determinedly slipped her fingers beneath the plump, feathered body   
   and was rewarded with a sharp beak pecking at the back of her hand.   
      
   "Ow!" She snatched her hand away and sent the pie plate clattering   
   to the ground. The feed scattered across the dirt and the hens   
   instantly flapped their wings and swooped toward the dirt floor of   
   the coop.  Cradling her injured hand against her breast, she nodded   
   knowingly.   
      
   "Note to self," she mumbled.  "First, distract the chickens with the   
   feed."  She found the nests empty.  "Obviously, you girls need a   
   little more time in your new home."  She scooped up the metal plate,   
   quickly let herself out of the pen and latched the gate behind her.   
   Securing the rest of the sack just in case the arrogant rooster   
   decided to grab a bit more chow, Scully grabbed the bucket of water   
   and lugged it toward the cabin.   
      
   She could hear Mulder's soft snores coming from the bedroom and   
   decided to let him sleep until breakfast was ready.  She would have   
   to get back to town sometime that day or the next for provisions, but   
   she had enough to get through the day.  She poured water into a pan   
   and set it on the stove to heat.  While she waited for the water to   
   come to a boil, she went into the cold cellar and brought up the   
   remainder of the butter and eggs that she'd purchased earlier in   
   the week.  She cracked one egg into a bowl and beat it with a fork.   
   She added a third of the beaten egg to the ground coffee and mixed it   
   with a small amount of cold water; then put the mixture into the   
   blue-speckled metal coffee pot and added the now boiling water.   
      
   While she waited for the coffee to come back to a boil, she cracked   
   the rest of the eggs into a bowl and set it aside, sliced tomatoes on   
   a plate and placed it on the table along with the rest of the soda   
   biscuits left over from last night's dinner.  Scully peeled a potato,   
   cut it into thin slices and fried the slices in a cast iron pan.   
   Taking a long handled spoon, she stirred the boiling coffee.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)