7/25/2006

09:07 PM
Logfile from Foundry.

When Chase and Hannah both left her, Abigail soldiered on alone. At fist it
  didn't seem like that big of an issue, Sister Brooksbridge was mussed but 
  mobile. The blood on the side of her head was wet and smeared, but was hardly 
  a gushing wound or anything like that. She was even able to get to her feet 
  with Abigail's help, and stagger into the house. Trembling she sat in a 
  chair, right next to a huge stack of fine tallow candles and three cured 
  hams, all of which have branch donation tags on them. 

Then, about five seconds ago, she smiled suddenly at Sister Abigail and said,
  clear as day, "I'm sorry Sister, I've done something terrible." Then she 
  stopped, opened up her mouth and her eyes rolled up in her head, blood came 
  pouring out her left ear, and she fell limp and lumpy as a potato sack on the 
  ground at Abby's feet.

Sister Abigail gasps and reaches out to Sister Brooksbridge, but isn't fast
  enough to catch the other woman before she hits the ground. A moment later, 
  though, Abby's on her knees beside her. She carefully feels for a pulse, 
  peels back the other woman's eyelids to look at her eyes, and props her head 
  up to let her breathe easy - all with a cold, determined calm and unhurried 
  movements that speak of competence.

Sister Abigail pulls off her red coat and places it under the other woman's
  shoulders, lowering her head to below the level of her heart, the flow of 
  blood slowing. Abby tears a long strip of cloth from her petticoats to 
  staunch the wound, Sister Brooksbridge's eyelids fluttering as she slips in 
  and out of consciousness. "Sister?" says Abigail, her voice full of calm 
  authority, as if she were asking the other woman to stir the dinner stew a 
  bit faster. "Sister, open your eyes. Open your eyes and talk to me. Don't 
  slip away."

Maybe it is Abigail's words, maybe it is the weight of her own guilt, but
  Hester does open her eyes. She watches Abigail in silence for a moment, blood 
  still seeping out of her ear, starting to come out the corner of her nostril 
  as well to form a long red trail across her cheek, like a staining tear of 
  sin-red. "I was all alone and afraid, and Brother Snow wasn't... wasn't 
  helping. I kept it because I was afraid, afraid of them... afraid for my 
  parents. And now I'm going to die, aren't I?" She shakes down her body, a 
  slight shudder of pure horror, like she can see the gates of Hell gaping open 
  for her. "I'm going to die with the sins upon me."

Sister Abigail shakes her head, her voice staying steady and firm, shifting
  into a gentle scolding. "Don't be ridiculous, Sister. There'll be no talk of 
  dying, you hear? You may have done wrong, so we'll just have to get you up 
  and about so that you can set it right." She pauses for a moment, looking 
  into Hester's eyes. "No, Sister - so that we can set it right. Together." She 
  strokes the other woman's hair gently, disregarding the blood smeared across 
  her Dogs' coat. "You've just given your head a bad knock," she adds with a 
  smile - and no indication of how much it's costing her to give it. "It 
  doesn't mean the King of Life's standing at your front door."

She cries at that, tears running down her face to mingle with the blood. Her
  hands grip at Abby's, grabbing for something to hold onto, something to 
  believe in. It makes for a long night, with her body and spirit trying to 
  hold together. It is well past midnight before the blood stops flowing, and 
  after that Hester is so weak that she can hardly lift her hand. But if she 
  makes it through the night then it is obvious she will live.

All through that long night, Sister Abigail watches by her patient's side. She
  spoons weak broth into Hester's mouth and changes the bandages as needed, but 
  mostly she holds on to Hester's cold, rough fingers, talking sense and 
  nonsense to her in a low voice. And in the intervals when Hester's eyes 
  close, and she falls into something more or less like sleep, Abigail puts her 
  head down on the grubby, bloody sheet and weeps. But when Hester wakes again, 
  Abigail is bright and smiling, gently scolding and warmly affectionate by 
  turns. And so, together, the two of them come through the hours of darkness - 
  and as the sun rises, Abigail finally stands from her patient's bedside. 
  Hester's sleep is easy and natural. Sister Brooksbridge will live.

---------------------


In the darkness and solitude out behind the barn as Hannah watches Brother
  Snow's silhouette head back towards the dance, there's a rustle, and a cough, 
  down by the riverbed. "Looks like maybe one of us came out of Bridal Falls on 
  the right trail." The voice is soft, and flatly hollow, and hitches, just 
  slightly in Sister Chase's throat.

Sister Hannah climbs down beside Sister Chase. "To be honest, that's about the
  first real good thing I've done for someone in my life. No one would listen 
  to me when I wasn't a Dog."

Sister Chase steps up on the bank, barely illuminating herself in the cast
  light from the pale moon and the full barn. "Ayup, I know how that goes." She 
  doesn't meet Hannah's eye, but instead, looks down towards the laughter that 
  rings out clear and true like a bell, as Sister Clemintine dances a rousing 
  romp with a sweet young man with soft bright eyes. "Thanks for not telling."

Sister Hannah nods. "It wasn't mine to tell."

There's a long pause, then she asks quietly, avoiding Chase's gaze "Why did you
  do it?"

Sister Chase says "Sure it was. It was hers too, I guess. When the town
  comesdown to it, we're all one voice, right? But in front of the King, she 
  doesn't need to take that kind of blood on her hands.... ever. Abby neither." 
  She rubs one palm over the dusty leather of her coat and worries at a well 
  worn patch. "I think sometimes that Clementine is like Abby.. like Abby's 
  little sister or something.... and you know... they're both right: clean 
  and unbroken. They're going to go on after all of this, and get married and 
  have kids. But Dogs, Dogs don't always make it there. I won't make it 
  there.... " and she goes to say more but backs away from it, dropping her 
  eyes to the ground."

Sister Hannah says "where won't you make it? And if you won't, neither will I."
  She ducks down to catch Chase's eyes and smiles at her in a kind way"


Sister Hannah says "folks like you and I have learned to be strong through
  adversity and hardship. They've learned what they should do, we've learned 
  what we have to do to survive. Those are very different lessons." She 
  hesitates for a bit then says "I could teach you to wash dishes and clean and 
  stuff, if you want." It's her turn to look down and look shy."

It's just after Hannah drops her eyes that the sound comes out Sister Chase,
  halfway between a gulp and a sob. It's the sound of a puppy that's just been 
  punted. "In her eyes, Hannah finds the thing that Chase had looked away and 
  shut her mouth to avoid saying... that Chase thinks she's right, that Hannah 
  isn't going there either. "Where am I not going? I ain't ever going to be 
  married and real just like you ain't ever going to ever have kids and be 
  real. " Her voice chokes, but her eyes stay dry. Her shoulders shake like 
  she's got a whole lifetime of crying backed up inside her.

They're here because they're born to be in the glory of the King. You and I?
  well we're here because we have to be if we want any goddamn life at all. 
  Dogs die, and Dogs drown in the blood they shed. And that can be you and me 
  or it can be them. The King brought me here to do something for Him, and I'm 
  thinking I've found what it is.

Sister Hannah is quiet for a while. Then she asks: "What is *your* calling,
  Sister Chase?"

Sister Chase 's face contorts, then just like that buckles down tight. Her
  voice gets harder, and stronger, and the sobbing tightness makes way for 
  stone. "You're not my confessor, and you can't turn the light on me just to 
  keep your own doubt in shadow." She sets her shoulders squarely over her hips 
  and levels her eyes into Hannah's.

Sister Chase steps forward, less than one inch away from Hannah's face, and the
  voice comes out clear and tight as steel. "I'm a Dog. What are you?"

Sister Hannah's eyes widen and she shrinks back at Sister Chase's intensity.
  Then she pulls herself up, stares back at Chase, nose to nose and says "Now 
  who's avoiding things? I'm a Dog, too, but I don't go pushing people around 
  because I'm insecure and feel I need to prove something!"

Sister Hannah stalks forward, forcing Sister Chase to move backwards. "At least
  I genuinely try to be what I want to be. At least I provide a good example to 
  townsfolk. At least I only do my own dirty work." She turns away in disgust. 
  "I don't even want to shoot a gun, you've got me there. I don't know how to 
  hunt, so I can't be self-sufficient the way you are. I have to rely on the 
  good nature of others to feed me; I can't just run away from it all. I'll 
  never be as good as the boys, like you. Unlike you, being a Dog is the only 
  way I'll get any respect, so I won't do anything that will get in the way of 
  that." She whips around to face Chase. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Did 
  you want me to confess my weaknesses? My Pride? Oh yes," she advances on 
  Sister Chase, "I'm proud to be a Dog. It's perhaps the only thing that keeps 
  me going. And for that reason I won't let it pull me down to do things I know 
  are wrong. I may have to hurt someone someday, but I'll make sure I have a 
  damn good reason first." She spits at Sister Chase's feet.

Sister Chase blinks in shock and scrambles backwards over the brambles and the   rocks of the riverside. As Hannah turns away the first time, she nearly falls 
  backward into the mud, leaving Chase, red faced, humiliated, angry careening 
  forward to balance. When Hannah turns on her and starts in on pride, she finds a 
  clear kind of boiling rage inside the woman she's confronting. It might have 
  been OK, but then there was the spit. Chase doesn't even realize what she's 
  doing before it all goes wrong. It started out as a woman reaching out to 
  another woman she thought would understand to do something she thought was 
  right, and then her fists are calling for blood. 

"You think I got respect from anybody out there? You think I get *anything* from
  *anybody* out there? I don't get anything - but spit - from anybody in the 
  Territories, not without this coat. I got no mother, and I got no father and I
  got no friends. All I ever got was a dead piece of meat that was my grandfather 
  and nobody to help me bury him. All I ever got was tied up in bows and sold to
  the first meaty handed bastard of a butcher who wanted to fuck a young girl! 
  All I got was your. Goddamn. Spit" and with each statement, the fists fly.

Sister Hannah takes each blow, getting knocked down in the mud on the final
  punch. She pulls herself up out of the mud, shrugs her mud-covered coat back 
  into place, straightens herself with dignity and says "I'm sorry for 
  spitting. It was rude of me. I'm sorry you got sold. I didn't know that. I 
  can't imagine what a horror that would have been. We've each had our trials 
  and who we are is a result of them. You're right, all we have is each other 
  and our beliefs."

Sister Hannah says "Just promise me you won't punch someone again without
  really thinking about it?" and she lays her hand lightly on Chase's shoulder 
  and catches her eyes, looking for an answer."

Stock still, as soon as the hand lands on her shoulder, she stops and meets
  Hannah's eyes. Her own suddenly well up, because despite the fact that she's 
  just tried to push her away, hard and brutal, with her pummeling fists, 
  she's still here, still with her. One tear, rivets down her cheek and she 
  takes in a great heaving breath... and kisses Hannah, soft and honest and 
  brazen and bold, and utterly vulnerable.

Sister Hannah just stands there, very still, her hands still on Chase's
  shoulders, their faces very close. "oh" she says in a small voice. But she 
  doesn't-- or can't-- move. She doesn't say anything more, but she doesn't 
  move away or appear anything other than surprised.

After a long moment, Chase, pulls back just a little, her face flushed, and her
  eyes wide. "I... uh..." She swallows hard, looks down, hotly embarrased, and 
  then gradually looks back up into Hannah. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." 
  and then she just closes her eyes and surrenders to the moment.

Sister Hannah holds Chase in her arms for a while then quietly says "Let's go
  back to the house." And as they're walking back she puts her arm around 
  Chase's shoulders and hugs her sideways. And she leaves it there for the rest 
  of the walk in silent companionship.

Maybe it's chance, maybe just that the first rays of dawn brought all the Dogs
  back to their untouched beds, but Sister Abigail approaches the house the 
  Steward lent to the group just in time to see Chase and Hannah heading up the 
  front steps. Abby's dress is wrinkled and bloodstained, and her hair 
  disheveled, and her face tearstained, and it looks like they're dressed for a 
  ... party? And the two of them walking together like that, with Chase curled 
  under Hannah's arm contentedly - well, that's just the last straw. 

Abby quickens her pace, catching up to the two of them just as they step through 
  the door, entering the same narrow hall where Chase made her a promise she's 
  already broken. "Well," she says with some asperity, "I'm glad the two of you 
  had a nice time. I'm sure I had a lovely evening. You'll be glad to know 
  Sister Brookbridge will live, no thanks to you, and I'm in some need of a 
  bath. Excuse me." And she starts up the stairs, keeping her back very 
  straight.

For once, Chase doesn't call out after her. Her brow furrows, her eyes follow,
  and then drop to the floor. She chews her lip for just a moment.

Sister Hannah says "I met Brother Snow."

Sister Abigail turns. "Oh really? And did you actually manage to learn anything
  useful? Because that would be remarkable. Truly."

Sister Hannah says "tuns out he was drinking, but he's decided to change his
  ways, now." And Sister Abigail finally notices that Sister Hannah's coat is 
  pretty muddy and a nice bruise is forming on her jaw."

Sister Chase stuffs her hands into her pockets, and drops her eyes down to the
  floor.

Sister Abigail nods sagely. "I see. So now that you've informed him that he'll
  no longer be drinking, he'll actually be completing his duties in some 
  competent fashion?" She pauses for a moment. "Have you actually ever met a 
  drunk before, Sister?" She somehow manages to turn the last word into a 
  sneer. "They don't change just because you bat your pretty eyes at them and 
  say please. But I'm sure you've managed to save the day, so we must be done 
  here. That's reassuring."

Sister Chase says "That's not fair Abby. It ain't Hannah's fault. I'm the one
  that should have stayed and cleaned it up. Hannah turned the man's life 
  around tonight."

Sister Chase doesn't look up, or even tense up as she says it, she just stands
  on her spot looking at the floor.

The look on Abigail's face would be comic in any other situation - she doesn't
  seem sure whether to look furious or frustrated or betrayed, but she seems to 
  be trying on all three for size. "I -" She stops, starts again. "Don't be an 
  idiot, Chase. What would you have done, beaten her the rest of the way to 
  death?"

Sister Hannah says "oh, come off your high horse. Pushing that woman into doing
  something she clearly didn't want to was not exactly all righteousness. I 
  couldn't believe you would do such a thing. We're supposed to stand for good 
  and the law. What happens when we lose that? Sister Clementine went to talk 
  to Sister Snow, who is also part of the problem, I'm sure." She was talking 
  through the interruptions, but gasps in shock at what Sister Abigail said."

Sister Abigail whirls on Hannah. "My high horse? MY high horse? You have no
  idea of how badly things are wrong at the Brookbridge place. How dare you 
  criticize me for doing what we're supposed to do?"

Sister Hannah says quietly "and you don't know how badly things are with the
  Snows. So we're even.

Sister Abigail nods. "So Brother Snow gave you that bruise?"

Sister Hannah shrugs. "I got in a fight. It was worth it. Was yours?" She says
  the words in a calm tone, but there's a venomous undertone, enhanced by the 
  slight tilt of her head, one had on her hip, and one raised eyebrow.

Sister Abigail looks puzzled for a second, then horrified. "Was my fight worth
  it? Why don't you ask Hester Brookbridge if she's glad to be alive? Or don't 
  you think that a woman's life is something worth fighting for?"

Sister Chase's voice is soft and even, the brim of her hat low, shading her
  eyes which still study the ground. "She's not talking about your fight to 
  keep her alive, she's talking about the way you bloodied her head to begin 
  with."

Sister Abigail opens her mouth, closes it again, then seems to find words. "I?
  I bloodied her head? So now I'm a thug - because I was trying to protect her 
  from *you*?"


Sister Abigail shakes her head in frustration, turning back to Hannah. "Do you
  really think you can be a Dog without pushing people to do things they don't 
  want to do?" Her tone makes it clear she's throwing Hannah's words back at 
  her. "I thought this job would be all weddings and... and... and delivering the 
  mail. But it's not. People do bad things, and sometimes they don't know how 
  to make it right, and sometimes they don't *want* to make it right, and 
  someone has to do something about it, because if we don't, who will? But 
  maybe you'd rather spend your time crying about how sad you are and hiding 
  behind me and Chase - because that's all I've seen you do so far."

Sister Hannah goes white with anger. "Just because you've never seen me do it,
  doesn't mean I can't." Her hands clench into fists.

Sister Hannah says "I've never seen you be nice to someone, either, but it
  doesn't mean you can't.""

Sister Chase says "There was wrong on all sides yesterday. I know I'm steeped
  in it, and I know I hit that woman too hard. But I also know that I might not 
  have hit her at all if things had gone different. We need to start in civil 
  on this if we're going to work it out. This here's our first town, and we'd 
  better sort it out if we hope to make it to a second."

Sister Abigail turns from Chase to Hannah, then back again, unsure. Finally she
  settles on Chase, her voice harsh, low and controlled. "Maybe we could learn 
  a few other things, like you not running away. I was with her all night, and 
  she bled," Abby's voice growing unsteady for a moment, "she bled all over my 
  coat, and every time I wanted to fetch her a drink of water I thought she'd 
  be dead when I got back because there was no one there to watch with me." And 
  now her gaze turns to Hannah. "But I guess that's not nice." Now her tone is 
  positively venomous. "Cooking for you - that's not nice. And mending your 
  dress, so you don't look like a half-dressed hoyden when we come to our first 
  town - that's not nice. And sitting up all night with a half-dead woman 
  because you're too much of a coward to get involved - definitely not nice. So 
  you're right, I suppose you've never seen me be nice. Me, I think that's 
  because you wouldn't know nice if you tried."


Sister Chase nods, quietly, and finally looks up to meet Abby's eye, with a
  look of sincere, disarming sympathy in her eyes. "You're right Abby, I was 
  wrong to leave. Like I said... I done plenty of wrong here." She reaches a 
  hand out like truce in an uncharacteristic softness. "I'm sorry I left you 
  alone. It must have been terrible on you. Why don't we all figure out where 
  we all went wrong in this, and find a way to make it better?"

Sister Abigail looks down at Chase's proffered hand, then back up at her face.
  "You know," Abby says, her voice soft and thoughtful, "I thought it would be 
  different, being a Dog. But it's really just the same, cleaning up other 
  people's messes. I'm used to that, and I'm good at that, and why pretend 
  it'll be any different?" and her voice firms. "And I certainly don't need 
  your help to do it, Chase. Why don't you and Hannah talk it over and make 
  whatever decisions you like? You seem to be sharing a lot of opinions these 
  days, and I'll just have to be cleaning up after the two of you no matter 
  whether I'm here for the decision-making or not." And Abigail bites her lip, 
  turns her back on Chase's proffered hand and moves up the stairs.


Sister Hannah says "it is different being a dog. You can make a difference to
  many people. Hopefully that difference is good for everyone.""

Sister Chase watches Abby move up the stairs, her offered hand reaching up
  after her, touching nothing but the air. Her eyes are soft and compassionate, 
  and speaks to everything she feels for the woman: love and for the first 
  time, a full sense of how hurt, how fragile, Abby is.

Sister Hannah grabs Sister Abigail's arm as she leaves, making her turn around
  and pay attention. "If you just feel like you're imposed upon, why be a Dog? 
  Why can't you believe in us like the villagers do? Listen to what we're 
  saying, Sister, that maybe forcing that woman to let us in was wrong and led 
  to lots of trouble. You were suspicious, and rightly so, but there were 
  better ways to deal with it. You made a mistake, we all do. Why can't you 
  admit it? We're all human and all of us here are sworn to serve God. At least 
  admit your mistakes to Him and be forgiven. He will always listen." She lets 
  go of Sister Abigail's arm and steps away, but doesn't break eye contact.

Sister Chase reaches out and takes Hannah's arm. She meets Hannah's eyes with a
  plaintiff look that pleads with her not to follow Abby. She places Hannah's 
  hand against her own heart, and covers Hannah's hand with her own. She shakes her 
  head, slowly, sadly.

Sister Chase runs up the stairs after Abby. "Sister... please... " She runs
  past Abby and stands on the step above her. "What happened at the 
  Brooksbridges.... I never should have tried to force my way in. I never 
  should have run away. I never should have left you. " She looks over Abby's 
  shoulder at Hannah. 

"Both of us. We never should have left you. Good or Bad, 
  we're Dogs, and we stand together." And you, Abby, you shouldn't have come 
  after Sister Brooksbridge like you did, you shouldn't have turned on me like 
  you did, but it's OK, because from now on, we're in it together, OK?"

Sister Abigail shakes her head slowly, looking dispirited and defeated. "Fine.
  You're right. I made a mistake. If it weren't for me then Hester would never 
  have gotten hurt. And I'm sorry, okay? I am. All this," gesturing at the 
  sticky, drying blood covering her from head to toe, "all this is my fault. 
  I'm sorry that Hester got hurt. I'm sorry that I made a mistake. I'm sorry 
  that I tried to take charge, when I don't actually know what I'm doing. I can 
  cook and clean and birth babies and nurse people when they're ill, but I 
  don't know what I'm doing here, and I made a mistake, and I'm sorry." She 
  pauses, tears standing in her eyes. "Are you happy now? Because I'd really 
  like to go wash this woman's blood off me, if you'll let me pass."

Sister Hannah flips her mud-stained, plain coat out of the way and nods at what
  Chase said. "yes, we are stronger together and need to show that to everyone. 
  How about we all get some sleep and start over in the morning?"

Sister Hannah says "And Sister, I'm sorry for running off."

Sister Chase steps aside, out of Abigail's way. She reaches out to pat her on
  the shoulder, but stops just short. Biting her lip she looks from Abby to 
  Hannah and nods. "I'll make sure to have us ready some breakfast with Sister 
  Clem. We'll eat together, and start fresh."


----END