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With all the time he'd spent on a horse, Connor thought that he'd have become accustomed to how long twelve miles could feel. Certainly, he'd covered longer distances in a day, but the weather seemed determined to make up for the distance. It had been a damp, cold mid-October day, the sun never quite making its appearance, and a day's worth of meetings in Leesburg had hardly left him feeling refreshed. He flattened his ears and sighed, looking up at the sky; the clouds that had obscured the sun all day had grown heavier and now looked to make good on the rain they'd threatened all day. The first lights of Hillsborough came in view as he crested the hill, and the first, fat drops of rain fell as he urged his mare down into the last valley at a light canter.

The rain took its time settling in, and Connor and his mare had crested the last hill into town when it started in earnest. He was wet for the last ten minutes of the ride, but it was the sort of surface wet that dries quickly and slides off a well-kept pelt. The wolf arranged for stabling for his horse and a small room for himself at a tavern in the middle of town that bore a simple sign declaring it "Birkett's." Connor saw to untacking and brushing down his mare, then got himself settled into his small, but serviceable room above the tavern. It was a welcome weight off to hang up his travel coat and service blouse, leaving him in just his linen shirt.

The immediate tasks being seen to, the need for dinner asserted itself, and he headed downstairs to the common room. A modest fire kept out the chill and a few patrons made the place feel, if not lively, then at least alive. Connor stopped at the bar counter, finding the brown lab with whom he'd arranged his room. "Thad, was it?"

"Aye. Dinner tonight's beef stew, if you're eating."

Connor grinned. "That I am. Famished. A pint of porter, too, if you have it."

Thad nodded and chuffed a chuckle, gesturing at the sign out front. "Wouldn't be much of a tavern if we didn't. I'll be right back with the porter. Stew will be a little longer."

The wolf took the moment to inspect the other patrons: some men clearly from a nearby farm, bits of mud still clinging to their clothes, sitting near the fire; a large grey wolfhound of a man in conversation with a terrier by the window; a collie woman at the next table enjoying her dinner and a whiskey while writing intently in a book, tri-color ears perked forward as she focused on what she was writing and muttered to herself.

"Here you are."

Connor grinned when his beer arrived and took an appreciative sip. He raised his glass as Thad turned away again. "Thanks." There weren't many tables to choose from, so when he settled into a table that left his back to the wall and him with a good view of the room, it was close to the bar, next to the collie's table.

Thad returned with a bowl of stew and a heel of bread a few minutes later, setting them before Connor. The brown lab stepped back a moment and cocked his head, inspecting the wolf. "Something wrong? You look like you're expecting folks here to start trouble."

Connor stared blankly at him for a moment, then chuckled, rubbing his chin. "Oh! Just habit."

Thad cocked an eyebrow at the non-answer and shrugged. "Most of them, aye." He nodded towards the window and the wolfhound seated there. "Mind Tom Cleary, though. He's decent enough, until he gets into his cups. He gets a mind you're giving him a look he doesn't like, he's like to be trouble." The lab gruffed and shook his head. "And I'm no fan of trouble, so don't go eyeing him so he gets ideas."

Connor raised his paws and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." Thad walked off, and Connor took the opportunity to tuck into his dinner in peace.

Halfway through the stew, he slowed and sat back, ears pricked at a sudden increase in the din of the room. The big wolfhound, Tom Cleary, had stood up, rising to his full height, which must have been a couple inches over six feet, with a barrel of a chest and arms as big around as Connor's thighs. Tom strode heavily across the room to stop at the collie woman's table and plant a paw heavily on the table. "Maeve!" He more roared than spoke. "What a pleasure to see you here! Where's your lovely sister?!"

Maeve rolled her eyes and looked up at him, fixing him with the sort of glare Connor thought would have stood her in good stead with flock of sheep or a classroom of unruly pups. "Thomas Cleary. I see you've left your charm in your pints already. Katie and her husband will be joining me for dinner soon enough." Her tail lashed in agitation. "Why don't you go home and sleep it off? Your mill will need you in the morning, and we all like you better when you've flour in your paws instead of beer."

Cleary leaned over the table, impressively oblivious. "Oh Maeve, your tongue was always too sharp for your own good. No wonder you've still not found a man." He grinned at her and slapped the table, laughing at what he clearly thought was a joke.

The collie let slip a short, sharp bark. "Hah! You're one to talk, Tom! No wonder my sister rejected you! You've only charm when you've your wits, and that's right rare. Go home, Tom. Your mill likes you, I don't."

The wolfhound tipped his head back and barked out another laugh, slapping her table once more. Her pencil clattered to the floor as he continued. "Hah! Maeve, prickly Maeve! Who could resist you?" He knocked his fist on the table, and then turned to the bar. A few dollars to Thad Birkett settled his tab, and he left, tossing a leer over his shoulder at the collie on his way out the door.

When the door closed, Connor let out the chuckle he'd been holding, hiding it as best he could behind a cough. He grinned and raised his glass to Maeve when she turned her withering look on him. "Friend of yours?"

She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "That man has plagued my family ever since he landed in a bed in my sister's hospital during the war."

He picked up her pencil from where it had rolled under his table and offered it to her. "War's been over fifteen years. Long time to carry a torch."

She nodded her thanks, putting the pencil inside her book. "I have met many mules less stubborn than Tom Cleary." She stuck out a paw; her arm was white-furred up to the elbow and her paw pads were a fetching mix of pink and black. "Maeve Ramsey. I run the store here in town."

Connor took her paw and gave a firm squeeze, noting that she gave the same. He turned his paw, lifting hers and ducking his muzzle in a small nod. "Connor Wallace, lately of Leesburg."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, but the hint of a grin belied her amusement. "Mmm, masquerading as a gentleman, Connor Lately of Leesburg?" She settled back at her table and turned her chair to face him. "What brings you to our dying hamlet? Family? Business? We've few enough left of the former, and little enough left of the latter." She huffed and gave her book a sharp look, then closed it, tucking the pencil into a loop.

"I'm on my way to Harper's Ferry. The rain set in outside of town, so figured I'd best stop here for the night." He ran a paw over the fur between his ears. The collie woman was quite pleasing to look at: her tri-colored coat gave her a fetching white muzzle and rusty mask, and one of her flopped ears was black while the other was red. Connor grinned and shifted in his seat to sit straighter. His tail shifted behind him, as he tried to still it; she was entirely too pleasant to talk to. He gestured at her book. "So, working late?"

She cocked her head at him. "Hmm?" Her ears perked in recognition. "Oh! This, yes. My sister has managed to drag her husband out of the house for dinner here. I am simply catching up on the next order while I wait for them to make their way in. I suppose the rain has delayed them." She tapped her claws on the leather of her book as she looked him over. "And what takes you to Harpers Ferry? Not much to be found there after the war, either." She waved her pencil at the stripes running down his trousers. "Particularly not for a soldier, hmm?"

He grinned and shrugged. "True enough, but there is some interest in the possibility of rebuilding, so I'm to see for myself if there's potential in it."

Maeve cocked an eyebrow. She seemed more at home with skepticism than anything else. "Well, good luck with that." The door opened and she waved at the couple that entered. A tricolor collie, built like Maeve but looking a little older, entered, while a short, wavy-haired yellow dog with a thick chest and broad shoulders held the door. "Ah! My sister and her husband." She stood. "I should at least introduce you. After all, you rescued my pencil from an ignoble death on the floor."

Connor grinned and stood, stepping around his table. He lightly clasped one paw in the other behind his back, settling into a comfortable at-ease posture.

Maeve introduced them. "Harry, Katie, this is Mr. Connor Wallace, a mysterious traveller out of Leesburg. Connor, may I present my sister, Katie, and her husband, Harry Halloran?"

Connor cocked his eyebrow at his introduction and extended a paw to Harry. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

Harry took Connor's paw in a calloused grip and gave a firm squeeze. He answered gruffly, "Harry will do."

Katie nudged her husband gently with her elbow, then held out a paw with a smile.

Connor took her paw, lifting it and giving a slight bow of his head. "Ma'am. A pleasure."

Katie grinned, her feathered tail lashing behind her in amusement. "Mmm. Charmed. So how do you know my sister?"

Connor ducked his muzzle and splayed his ears briefly. "We've only just met. I arrived in town an hour ago."

Maeve held up her pencil and waved it for emphasis. "He rescued this errant scribe from the floor after the ever-charming Tom Cleary knocked it over." She pointed the end of the pencil at her sister. "He was asking after you again, you know. That beast has never gotten past you."

Katie rolled her eyes and sighed. "That man..."

Harry cleared his throat. "So, Connor, what brings you to Hillsborough? We've little enough to offer a man from the county seat."

Connor nodded at Harry. "I'm off to do some business in Harpers Ferry and got a late start, so I'm here the night."

Harry laughed sharply. "Little enough to offer you there, too." The short dog held up a paw as though to forestall a response. "But I'll not question your business." He turned to his wife, resting a paw on her shoulder. "Now, Katie, we've come out here for dinner. Let's leave Connor to his and Cleary to his mill, whilst we have a nice dinner with your sister. Or at least a dinner."

She nodded. "Yes, let's." Katie dipped her muzzle at Connor. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wallace. I hope your business goes well." She turned with her husband and seated themselves at one of the larger tables between the door and the fireplace.

Maeve gathered up her book and whiskey, then raised her glass to Connor. "A pleasure, Mr. Lately. I shall be sure to send for you if any more pencils go missing."

Connor raised his glass and grinned. "Good eve." He couldn't help but think that Maeve was quite a woman. Thad came by when his glass was empty, and Connor ordered another. He settled lower in his chair and nursed his drink, his ears swiveling almost of their own accord as he basked in the mild din of the room, catching scattered words and bits of conversation as they bounced off the room's walls.

Connor's mind wandered, and he reflected that the day's business in Leesburg had been reasonably productive; it had fared well since the war, and the rail line running through it made Leesburg an excellent place for outlying communities to bring goods to market them in the Washington area. The War Department was interested in how it might put these goods to use ensuring the Army had ample supplies to support its troops, so Connor had been sent to Leesburg to contract with middlemen there. In Harpers Ferry, he was to see if there was any substance to claims of rebuilding mills in that area. The Army was not above investing in mills if it meant it had a steady source of the supplies they processed.

He chuckled to himself -- the Army was also not above sending its soldiers off on quiet errands to the countryside when they made themselves inconvenient. The wolf mulled over what had him on this assignment in the first place. Assigned to a protective detail with the Department of State, he'd put his protection training to good use when a diplomat's son had found himself irate and intoxicated at a function. The man -- though, by his behavior, arguably little more than a boy -- had taken a swing at Connor's charge and received a thorough drubbing as a result. No one could find fault with Connor's actions, but to sustain cordial relations with the gentleman's delegation, his superiors had sent him off scrabbling after mills and contract applicants well away from the embassies. Politics were something he didn't miss.

He came out of his reverie to find himself looking at Maeve. A very fine-looking collie lass, indeed, with a sharp wit to match. No ring that he'd seen, either. He flicked his ears and shrugged; it was a shame he'd be moving on the morning and had little enough cause to return. If only the town had some business to conduct, he might spend enough time to get to know her better. That would have been pleasant.

Connor shook his head and sat up in his chair, forcing his gaze to wander. It wouldn't do to linger too long on her. He huffed and took another sip of his beer, gaze wandering over the crowd again. Settling into old habits, he scanned the crowd lazily, letting his mind rest.

The whole tavern started when the door crashed open. Tom Cleary's bulk loomed in the door, listing to one side, his massive paw keeping him off the frame. Conversation stayed dead as the man lurched in, anger radiating off of him almost as clearly as the whiskey fumes. He heaved his grey-furred bulk over to the Hallorans' table and slammed his paw down, making the plates and glasses jump.

They looked up at him crossly as he announced, "Katie Ramsey! This lilly-livered Halloran runt's no man for you!" He grabbed her by the elbow, hauling her up. "You'll be leaving with me!"

Harry and Maeve shot to their feet, and Harry shouted, "Leave her, Tom! Go home!"

Katie responded more directly, striking Tom Cleary across the muzzle with an open-handed slap. She put a farmwife's strength behind it, and he lost his grip on her arm as he rocked back on his heels. She followed this up with a clear statement of her intent. "No, I'll bloody not!"

Cleary growled and responded in kind, delivering an open-handed blow across her cheek, putting all of his alcohol-uninhibited bulk behind it. Katie fell, and Maeve staggered as she caught her stunned sister.

Harry seized the lapels of Cleary's coat in both paws, growling as he surged forward to whove the larger man against the door jamb. Harry hauled the larger dog back and slammed him a second time for good measure. Cleary's head knocked back against the frame with a loud thud and he sagged against the frame. The sudden shift in the wolfhound's weight unbalanced Harry, and the smaller dog lost his grip and staggered forward. Tom Cleary recovered quickly enough and took full advantage of the slack, surging off of the frame. He swept his arm up and shoved Harry back, sending him staggering.

Cleary roared his rage and reached his right paw behind him under his coat. With a smooth motion that belied his drunkenness and spoke to much practice, he drew a large knife. He growled again at Harry, "I'm done foolin' Harry. You've never deserved her, and now I'll set this to rights!"

At the sight of the blade, Connor exclaimed, "Knife!" He stood and stepped away from his table in a single motion, nearly tipping the chair behind him in the process. He brought his paws up, keeping his elbows tight to his side and tucking his belly. He kept his primary focus on Cleary, waiting to see how far he'd take things.

Cleary answered the question when he surged forward and swung the knife at Harry. Harry leapt back, but not far enough. The blade, near a handspan long, bit through the yellow dog's shirt and vest, opening a long diagonal cut from his left shoulder to his right hip. Harry fell, bouncing off the table and falling to the floor. He scrabbled backwards, trying to make space between himself and Cleary as the big dog loomed over him. Blood soaked him from neck to thigh, leaving red, wet splotches on the tavern floor.

Tom Cleary growled down at Harry, a wicked grin on his muzzle. "You never were for fightin', Harry. Now we'll see what your simpering, holier-than-thou pacifism does for you."

Connor took advantage of the pause while Cleary spoke, grabbing his glass off the table and throwing it at the wolfhound. It bounced off the big dog's skull and shattered against a nearby table.

Cleary's grey muzzle whipped around, body following, and he fixed Connor with a glare. "You stay out of this, whelp, or I'll cut you, too!"

Connor growled, ears back and his lips drawn back in a snarl. "Sir, leave! You've done these folk more than enough harm!"

Tom Clearly glared silently at Connor, as though sizing him up. The brief silence was only broken by the audible splatter of Harry's blood as it dripped from Cleary's knife onto the tavern floor. The moment passed, and Cleary surged forward, shoving his way past the tavern's tables. Connor took a step away from his table and towards more open ground. Cleary barged past the last table and lunged, thrusting at Connor's belly with the knife. Connor turned to his right, cutting it close and feeling the knife brush his clothes. He clapped clapped his paws down and pinned Cleary's right wrist to his hip. Connor sank his weight and half bent over, pulling Cleary down and off-balance.

Connor lashed out with a fist, striking Cleary in the temple with a hammer blow. He followed up immediately with a kick, driving the instep of his riding boot into the dog's groin. Connor shifted and took a short step back, driving downwards with both paws keeping Cleary's wrist tightly pinned to his hip. The motion pulled the big dog down face first into the ground. Connor shifted his weight forward and down, and he felt Cleary's shoulder separate. The wolfhound's grip on the knife loosened, and a swift punch to the back of the dog's paw had the knife falling to the ground. Connor scanned the room quickly, but the only threat was Cleary, struggling to reach towards the knife with his free paw. Connor drove his boot heel swiftly into Cleary's temple and the big dog went limp.

Connor dropped Cleary's arm and, in the interest of being double-sure, took Cleary's knife, went to the door, and tossed it out into the dark of the street. He turned to face back into the tavern and found the patrons staring quietly at the mess: Maeve easing her sister to the floor; Katie, still dazed, trying to settle herself; Harry lying bleeding next to them, paws pressing his shirt over his chest and belly; Tom Cleary's limp form near the bar, his shoulder visibly dislocated.

Connor moved to Harry, kneeling at his side, while Maeve did the same across from him. He put his fingers to Harry's neck and found the dog's pulse rapid, but still strong. He watched Harry's chest rise and fall rapidly as Maeve's fingers danced over it, lightly checking along the wound.

She looked down at the dog, "You're lucky Harry. Nothing's out of place. You'll have a nice scar to show your wife later."

Connor looked up to find the folks in the tavern turning away, clearly trying as hard as they could not to be aware of the three of them, or the sprawled lump of a dog near the bar. He gave Maeve a pointed look and remarked quietly, "You don't seem too flush with friends here tonight."

She barked a bitter laugh, then lowered her voice. "Hah! No. They deal with us well enough, but Harry here rubs them the wrong way, and none of us were here to suffer through the war." She huffed and looked at her sister, who was stirring. "Katie, now that you're feeling better, why don't you get our coats and my book." The collie turned her attention back to Connor. "If you'll help a little longer, we can get him back to my place and sewn up." She shook her head in the direction of Tom Cleary's form. "Plus put a locked door between us and that brute."

Connor nodded ascent and got his paws under one of Harry's shoulders. "Mm. And his cut?"

Maeve shrugged. "It should keep well enough if we take our time." The two of them slowly carefully hauled Harry to his feet and walked him out into the street, Katie following close behind with their things. Behind them, Connor could hear Thad barking directions at the remaining patrons.

Connor had walked his share of miles in his career, and supporting the wounded Harry, who could barely walk, made the half-mile to Maeve's shop east of town one of the longest he'd ever experienced. A sharp pain in his side that had made itself known during the walk did nothing to make the distance seem any shorter.

Maeve handed her keys to her sister, who opened the door and held it open as Maeve and Connor half-carried Harry into the shop. The older collie woman led them through the main area of the shop into a back room. Maeve left Connor to support Harry as she cleared a table of what looked to be a handful of half-completed personal projects.

She returned to Harry's side, and, with Connor's help, they managed to lift Harry to the table and get him laid out on it. Maeve took Harry's coat from her sister and tucked it under his head. She grabbed Connor's forearm and pointed to a door leading farther back into the shop. "The stove is in the next room. Get a fire started. We'll need hot water to wash his cut."

The wolf acknowledged her instruction with a nod and pushed through the door, while behind him, Maeve settled her sister in a chair and began to look her over. Moonlight filtered dimly through the clouds and the window, and when his eyes had adjusted, he found the stove at the back wall. Flint, tinder, and kindling were arranged nearby along with small and large logs. He had to take a moment to appreciate how well Maeve kept her shop.

Connor settled onto his haunches to open the door and hissed at the sharp pain in his side. He patted the mostly-dry cut at his side and reflected that he'd not avoided the knife quite so well as he'd have liked. It wasn't bleeding at the moment, so he figured it could wait until he'd finished lighting the stove.

After a blessedly short time, he had a fire growing in the kindling and starting to take on the smaller logs. Standing with a wince, he took the large kettle off the top, then poked his head back into the next room. "Fire's going. Where's the pump?"

Maeve had arranged a couple of lamps in the room by now, and Katie had joined her in inspecting Harry's wound in the improved light. The two women looked at him sharply, and Maeve replied, "Out back. And be quick about it; we can't work until he's been cleaned." The collies turned their attention back to Harry, speaking quietly to him for a moment before the sisters began setting out supplies with a practiced efficiency.

Connor accepted his obvious dismissal with a raised eyebrow, then disappeared through the door. The pump was easy enough to find when he went through the back door, and he filled the kettle from it, then returned to the house and set the kettle on the stove. By now, the fire had gotten a solid start, and Connor grimaced the shot of pain in his side when he stooped to feed more wood in the stove.

When he cracked the door to the makeshift operating room to report his progress, Maeve responded by shoving a pot through the door at him. "Fill and heat this, too. Stove should fit it." She disappeared back into the room without another word.

Once he'd filled the pot and set it beside the kettle on the stovetop, he pulled a chair up from the kitchen table and settled himself in it. He pulled his shirt off, then set it aside and felt along his wound. He hissed at the sharp pain as he probed it, finding a horizontal cut running under his ribs on his right side. Blood matted his fur almost down to his waist, but even along the wound it was mostly dry.

His injury assessed, Connor held his shirt up to inspect it by the stove's light; the slash was a few inches long, but blood soaked the area under the cut. He shook his head. "Alas, poor shirt. You were good. Perhaps I'll get most of the blood out of you." He draped it over a chair, then returned his attention to his side.

The wolf fished a handkerchief out of a pocket, and folded it before placing it in a small basin next to the stove. He splashed water over it and watched it steam, waiting for it to cool and steeling himself. He huffed, then picked up the steaming, soaked cloth and pressed it to his side. He hissed as dabbed at the cut, the blood thinning in his fur and staining the cloth pink. After a few moments more, he looked at his side and found a relatively clean cut there, oozing lightly from the cleaning, but looking much better.

He splashed some more water over his handkerchief, then squeezed it out and spread it over the seat of the chair. It was hardly an ideal setup, but it would dry well enough. He topped off the kettle with water from the pot, then paced while it returned to a boil. When it returned to a boil, he took it into the next room.

Katie and Mauve had Harry stripped to the waist. His yellow fur was matted with blood where the slash crossed his chest and ribs, just barely following the line of his rib cage.

Connor spoke up, holding up the kettle, "Water's hot. Where do you want it?"

Katie looked at him and quirked an eyebrow as she looked over his shirtless form. She pointed to a trivet on a table pulled up alongside the one on which Harry lay. "Over here. And keep the pot going. We'll run through this soon enough."

Maeve raised an eyebrow of her own when she looked over at Connor, betraying a marked family resemblance with her sister. "Why, Mr. Lately, you seem to have forgotten your shirt." She waved a paw at his side. "And forgotten to not get cut, I see. We'll see to that once Harry is stitched up."

She hummed quietly to herself, then put the cloth she was holding over the mouth of a bottle and upended the pair. After a moment, she righted the bottle and approached Harry. Holding the cloth over his muzzle, she asked, "Now, Harry, tell me. Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?" Maeve chuckled to herself softly as Harry drifted off. "The answer is no. It smells like ether. Ah well." She held it a moment longer, then removed the rag and nodded to her sister. "Should be easier to work now."

The two collies set to work. They shaved Harry's pelt around the wound with a straight razor, then Katie sewed up her husband's gash while Maeve held the wound closed. Connor was pressed into service keeping the area clean, regularly squeezing a rag soaked with clean, hot water over the area to wash away loose fur and fresh blood. In less than half an hour, Harry, still unconscious, was lying on the table with a freshly-sewn cut running from his shoulder to near his opposite hip. The sisters wasted no time in laying a pad of gauze along the cut and wrapping Harry's chest, while Connor served to hold him in a sitting position. When they were done, they lay him back on the table.

Maeve and Katie set about cleaning up the room, rinsing the needles and razor and setting them aside for later cleaning. Connor was sent out to dump out the basin full of bloody water and return with it refilled from the pot still on the stove. When he'd returned, Maeve patted a counter top. "Your turn, Mr. Lately. You, too, get the funny fur look."

Connor hopped up on the counter with a tired huff, and he winced when he lifted his right arm over his head and the motion pulled at the wound. "Mmm, my very favorite."

Katie held up the bottle of ether. "If you need it, we can put you out, but we are rather out of convenient table space."

Connor shook his head. "I'll manage. Should be quick enough. A little whiskey after wouldn't go amiss, though."

Both sisters grinned at that, and Katie replied, "I should think we could all do with a dram after tonight."

Connor pointed to his side. "Shall we get on this before I bleed all over the counter?"

Katie nodded and gestured towards her sister. "Maeve, why don't you get him patched up? You can get some practice while I see to cleaning up."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "Practice? I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Maeve set a clean needle and thread beside him. "Mmm, don't worry. I've not had more than five or six patients die on me... This year." She held up the needle and gave it a speculative look. "Now, how does this work again?"

Connor rolled his eyes and sighed. "If you take any longer to get to it, I'm going to die of exsanguination. Or possibly just old age."

Maeve grinned wickedly and picked up the razor,. "Mmmm, maybe we'll put you out any way and you'll wake up cold and ridiculous."

Katie, busy cleaning the equipment they'd used on Harry, didn't bother to turn as she barked at her sister. "Maeve! Just patch the poor lad up already!"

The younger collie rolled her eyes, but set to work, carefully trimming back Connor's pelt around the cut until it was clear. She rinsed the area with hot water, at which the wolf grimaced, and then rubbed her needle with a phenol rag. Deftly, she threaded the needle and bent to his side, pressing the wound together and hooking the curved shape through the flesh to either side.

Connor sucked in his breath and gritted his teeth, then forced himself to relax. He hooked his hand around the back of his neck to keep his arm steady and closed his eyes. Focus on breathing, he'd been taught. Acknowledge the pain, but let it flow by. Words from a more experienced soldier who'd coached him through the first time he'd need a surgeon's skills. The pain peaked and ebbed each time the needle pierced his skin and Maeve drew the gut string through.

When she had finished tying off the stitches, Maeve laid a paw on his knee. "Mr. Wallace, you've been a very good patient. Let's get you wrapped up and then perhaps I can get you that whiskey."

Connor grinned and let out a slow breath as he lowered his arm, his side twinging as the movement tugged at his stitches. "Mm, that sounds lovely."

Maeve crossed the room to a cabinet and returned with a few rolls of gauze and pads. She placed one gently over his cut and wrapped his chest with a roll, cutting and tying off the wrap with an ease that spoke to experience. The collie grinned at Connor again. "This'll do for now. You should change it every a day for about a week, then it should keep on its own." She patted the pile of pads and rolls. "And it just so happens that I can provide you with an ample supply of bandages for a very reasonable price."

Connor grinned down at Maeve, but Katie huffed a mix of disapproval and amusement over her shoulder. "Mmm, selling to a captive audience? You must do well here."

Maeve shrugged in response. "Well enough. Shall I set it aside for you?"

Connor nodded. "Yes, please. I'd not stocked for a knife fight when I set out this afternoon. And I'd like a receipt. Who knows? The Army might even reimburse me for it."

He grinned and slid gingerly off the counter as the collie lass turned away to assemble a package for him. He couldn't help but note the way her tail swayed behind her as she carefully packed up the rolls and pads and wrote out a receipt. "How much will it be?"

Maeve glanced over her shoulder, then back to the receipt. "A dollar should cover it. I'm itemizing your receipt now. Just in case."

He made his way slowly towards the next room. "Should have that in my coat then." It was hanging on a stand by the door, and he shrugged into it, returning some of his lost modesty as he fished a coin out of one of the pockets. He faced Maeve across the counter and set a silver dollar down on her book, giving her a nod and a smile, as though it was an everyday transaction. "Thank you, ma'am."

Maeve eyed the coin briefly, then grinned up at him. "Prompt payment. Thank you, sir. I thought I'd have to wait until at least morning." She poked lightly at his coat with the back of her pencil. "And what is this? Modesty? We've already seen the goods, Mr. Lately, and now you just look silly. Or like you can't afford a shirt."

He rolled his eyes and shrugged. "It seemed impolite to wander around without anything on around you ladies, especially as you were so kind to patch me up. I wouldn't want to be improper."

Katie chimed in as she walked in from the back room and stretched out Connor's shirt on a counter. "Maeve, harassing the patients again? This is why they don't miss you in Frederick."

Maeve flicked her ears back at her sister's comments and glanced at the floor, but said nothing. Connor hadn't believed she could be rendered speechless.

Katie turned to Connor and held up his shirt. "Mr. Wallace, I'm afraid it'll never be the same, but I've cleaned it, and I'll patch this up tonight before I go to sleep. I'm still too worked up sleep, and I'd like to stay in here with Harry, in case he wakes."

Connor nodded, "I'm much obliged, Mrs. Halloran. You are very kind."

Katie shrugged. "'Tis nothing. You've had to put up with my sister's magnificent bedside manner, and never mind that you saved my husband's life, tonight. It's the least I can do." She pointed at her sister. "Now, Maeve. You mentioned whiskey. Pour me a glass and then see Mr. Wallace to a bed. I know you've a guest room or two upstairs, and there's no sense sending him back to Birkett's at this time of night." She shook her heard sharply. "Certainly not with Tom Cleary God knows where."

Maeve grinned at her sister and patted Connor's arm. "Wait here." She ducked through the door to the back and returned a few moments later with a bottle and three glasses. She set one by her sister and poured a dram, then moved to Connor's side and poured the other two. She held up the bottle. "Despite my sister's implications, I do still have some friends in Frederick, and they have managed to get me a few bottles of Old Bushmill's over the years. So at least we have some proper Irish whiskey."

Katie nosed her glass and retorted, "My sister, the storyteller! Maeve, we were born in Pennsylvania! You've never been to the Home Country, you just liked the idea so much you insist on the whiskey."

Maeve glared at her sister. "Hmph!" She lifted her glass up to Connor. "Mr. Lately, to timely intervention."

Connor lifted his glass, clinking against Maeve's and Katie's. "Indeed. And to you ladies and your fine skills with the needle. I'd have done butcher's work if I'd had to sew myself up."

Maeve grinned behind her glass. "Mmm, I noticed a few scars there. Based on your performance tonight, I'd wager it's not your first fight?"

Connor shook his head. "Nay, I've had one or two before. And more training besides. I spent some time as an escort with the diplomatic service abroad."

Maeve cocked an eyebrow and grinned, her tongue lolling out of her muzzle. "An escort? Oh my! Well, Mr. Lately, shall we show you to your room?" She turned and walked off through the door to the back without waiting for a reply.

Connor raised an eyebrow and followed with a grin and a swish of his tail, while behind him Katie let slip an exasperated sigh.

Connor perked his ears as he stepped through the door, then followed the sound of Maeve making her way up the stairs. He took his time, gripping the bannister for support and taking care not to spill his whiskey. He found Maeve waiting for him at the top of the stairs, her free paw on her hip and her ears perked as she fixed him with a look that made him feel like an errant sheep. He reached the top of the stairs and raised an eyebrow at her.

She shook her head. "Mr. Lately, you are living up to your name."

He grinned. "Would you rather I tear these stitches? I'd have to redo them myself and tell everyone it was your handiwork."

She threw up her arms in mock disgust. "God, no! By all means, take your time! See if we don't die of old age before you find your room, but at least leave my good name intact."

Connor took a sip of his whiskey to hide a grin, then gestured with his glass. "Do lead on then, m'lady, and I shall follow when I am able."

Her tail lashed behind her as she stalked off, while Connor followed behind at a more sedate pace. He could not help but note that Maeve cut a fetching figure no matter which direction she was moving. It was a short walk before she stopped at door, looking back to be sure he was following before she pushed through it. He soon found himself in a small room dominated by a bed of moderate size. The room's window was fitted into a small alcove, and modest bench afforded guests a place to sit by it and look out over the street. An oil lamp glowed on the small bedside table, giving the room a soft, warm light.

Maeve crossed to the window and pushed it partway open, letting in a slight breeze and the sound of the rain. She leaned forward and stuck her head out the window, drawing in a deep breath. Righting herself, the collie gave him a look that bordered on apologetic. "It's so nice to get some fresh air after all the blood and phenol, and rain air is just the best." She sat on the bench and patted the spot next to her. "Come, sit. It will do us both good." The collie took a sip from her glass, then eyed it sharply. "I should get the bottle. This is looking dangerously close to empty."

Connor settled slowly into the seat next to her, leaning back against the side of the alcove and eyeing his own glass. He took a sip and found it still more than half full. The wolf grinned at her, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose I'd not say no to another, though I'm hardly running low, yet."

Maeve grinned back at him, then stood. "Mmm, but it would be a shame to run out after such a night." She set her glass on the bench where she'd been sitting and slipped out of the room.

Connor sighed and leaned back, enjoying the quiet and the sound of the rain. He sipped slowly at his glass, savoring the warmth and light burn of it on his tongue, the hint of sweetness in the palate. He sucked air in through his mouth, savoring the way it pulled coolly over the whiskey-warmed length of his tongue and teased the back of his nose with the scent of the whiskey.

Maeve returned a few minutes later with the bottle and a pair of blankets. She set the bottle on the bench next to her glass and dropped one of the blankets on the edge of the bed. "Here, give me that silly coat. You've little left to hide from me, and this will be warmer."

The collie grinned when he set his glass down and shrugged obligingly out of his coat. She took it and hung it on a peg by the door, then returned and tucked the blanket around his shoulders. She handed him the glasses, then pushed the bottle to the middle of the bench. Wrapping the other blanket around her shoulders, she settled in next to him on the bench. "Much better."

Maeve retrieved her glass, and turned to look at Connor. "My sister seems to be making good progress on your shirt. It won't be quite as good as new, but at least you'll have a good story for the patch."

Connor grinned and lifted his glass. "To your sister's skilled hands."

Maeve raised her own and clinked it to his. "To Katie." She winked at him as she took a sip. "She's not the only one with skilled hands in the family, but she was the first."

Connor coughed once, then recovered himself and grinned. "I noticed that. You were quite good yourself. Were you both nurses?"

Maeve nodded and nosed her glass, just drinking in the whiskey fumes. "Aye. Started during the war and continued after. I helped her until I was of age to start myself. We worked there until Harry's brother took ill and we moved here to care for his farm. Must be five years we've remained." She sighed heavily, sagging a bit on the bench. "It's not so bad."

Connor rested a paw on her shoulder and gave her a warm smile. "Well, you do fine work here. I'm sure they appreciate it."

Maeve looked up at him and then scooted closer on the bench and leaned in against his shoulder. "Mmm, I suppose they do. Didn't show it well tonight, though."

Connor nodded. "No they didn't." He shifted his weight on the bench to adjust for Maeve's lean and tried to focus on the conversation, not the pretty collie who seemed to be getting more familiar with him. He'd have been hard-pressed to muster much objection, though. "I take it there's some friction with your family?"

Maeve chuckled and took another drink, draining her glass. "Mmm, now that there is. I irritate people because I'm not patient enough with them, and Harry irritates people because he's just irritable." She huffed and eyed her glass speculatively. "But Katie loves him, and he's always been good to her, so I can't complain. He's a good man, really."

Connor nodded and sipped his whiskey thoughtfully. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, eyeing it in the soft light of the lamp. "Hm. I suppose that's well enough, then. Far too many men are unkind to their wives."

Maeve nodded, then fished the bottle from between them on the bench. Deftly pulling the cork one-handed, she refreshed her glass, then held it up to him in a silent offer. He downed the last of his whiskey in a long sip and held out his glass. The whiskey was doing a fine job taking the edge off the pain in his side, and he was enjoying the warm buzz. The collie poured him another dram, then corked the bottle. She set it on the floor and moved conspicuously into the space it had occupied between them, her leg pressing against his from calf to thigh to hip, and her shoulder firmly wedged against his. When she leaned, she pressed him a little more firmly into the alcove.

He looked at her questioningly and she returned his look with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Not afraid of a woman's touch are you, Mr. Lately?"

He raised his own eyebrow and grinned. "Well, no, ma'am, but I wouldn't want to be too familiar."

She huffed in irritation and reached out, carefully lifting his arm over her head and setting it across her shoulders. "See, Mr. Lately? I think we shall both agree that you were not overly forward in that." She grinned and leaned in again, resting her head on his shoulder and letting out a soft sigh.

He looked down at her, rubbing her shoulder with his paw, wincing a bit as the movement pulled at his side unexpectedly. She looked at him, then down at his side, pulling his blanket aside to brush a paw over the pad. Maeve ducked down, looking closely at it in the light of the lamp. "No blood. Good." She sat up again and leaned in against his side patting his thigh fondly, "Can't have you springing any more leaks, Mr. Lately. I've done all the sewing I care for tonight."

He grinned and settled his arm around her again, giving her a fond squeeze. "I completely concur." He glanced down at her paw where it rested halfway up his thigh. "I think, at this point, you can call me Connor."

She rubbed her paw lightly along the top of his thigh, the pads of her fingers teasing inwards. He squirmed a bit under her touch, and she grinned at him again. "Oh, I could. But that might be too familiar." She grinned at him, all teeth, and squeezed his thigh again, fingers pressing into the muscle through his trousers. "Mmm, I guess Connor it is."

Connor huffed, his thigh tensing under her paw. His tail curled tight to his side, pressing against his other thigh. It thumped lightly on the bench as he looked down at Maeve, pausing to admire the white stripe running slightly off-center down her muzzle and the rust masks around her eyes. He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Ma'am --"

"Maeve," she corrected. Her paw didn't move.

He squirmed. "Maeve. You seem to have found my thigh."

The collie looked down and then up at him with a pointed grin. "Why, yes. Yes, I do." She squeezed his thigh again and leaned in close. Connor felt her breasts press against his chest as she leaned in close and spoke softly in his ear. "Connor, I have designs on your propriety. It has been a very long night and a very long time since I've enjoyed the, shall we say, private company of another." She huffed softly, warm breath washing over the sensitive fur and flesh of his ear. "Would you join me in bed tonight, my fine lupine companion?"

Connor splayed his ears, feeling them flush at her words and delightful proximity. He grinned warmly at Maeve as he slipped his paw down from her shoulder to her side and pulled her tightly against him. He lowered his muzzle and answered her question with a warm kiss, lapping lightly over her lips before meeting them with his. They separated after a few warm moments, and he grinned again. "I do not believe I could possibly say no. I would very much enjoy your company tonight."

He growled warmly, a low rumble in his throat, when her paw slid along his thigh, those work-toughened pads dragging along the fabric of his pants. When she found the hidden bulge of his sheath, he rolled his hips to press the furred tube within into her grip.

Maeve grinned warmly and leaned in closer to lick the edge of his ear as she squeezed his sheath. She chuckled softly and whispered, "Oh, Connor, for me? You shouldn't have." The collie gave him another squeeze and then pulled the pads of her fingers along the fly of his pants, teasing the sheath beneath them. "Mmmm, on second thought, you most certainly should."

Her paw drifted up past his fly, and he let out a soft huff, pushing his hips up to try and follow her touch. She brushed over the fur of his belly, trailing through the thicker, soft fur that gave hint to the cooling weather. The collie paused briefly, fingers playing under the waist line of his trousers as she took a long sip of her whiskey. "Mmmm, best not waste it. That would be a sin, you know, and we can't have any sinning here." She grinned at him, taking another sip as she pushed her paw into his pants, fingers finding the drawers underneath, the cotton hiding less of the heat of his sheath as she squeezed him again.

Connor groaned softly at the squeeze. "No, that would be, ahh, most inappropriate." He stuffed his nose in his glass and took a strong whiff of the whiskey, swooning briefly at the mix of sensations -- that overpowering scent of whiskey and Maeve's warm paw squeezing his sheath. He took a long, slow sip to drain his glass, then set it next to him on the edge of the bench. The wolf growled warmly again, and his free paw found one of Maeve's folded-over ears, rubbing it gently as he leaned in to kiss her once more. His cut mades itself known, but the whiskey had dulled the pain, and even without it, the collie's company inspired him to ignore it.

Maeve tucked her glass in against her side and leaned into that kiss. She squeezed his sheath in response to his paw on her ear. When her lips met his, she pressed her tongue against them, playing the dextrous tip against his lips. He licked his own tongue out to meet hers, tasting collie and whiskey. She huffed and broke the kiss, then planted another, short one on his lips. "Connor, you are too much." She finished her whiskey and leaned over him to set her glass next to his.

Her tail swished over her skirt and Connor couldn't help but notice as she leaned over his lap how nice it felt to have her breasts pressed against his thigh. She squeezed his sheath again, then smoothly slid off the bench and settled on her knees before him. The collie looked up at Connor, watching him as she started to undo the fly of his pants.

He watched her intently, panting, his tongue hanging from his open muzzle as she undid first the fly of his pants, then the fly of his drawers. He shuddered softly when she slipped her paw in to grip his sheath directly, and the pink tip of his pointed length pushed up from the white-furred tube.

The collie lass licked her lips, then lowered her muzzle. She pressed her lips to the tip of the wolf's length, kissing his point eagerly, letting it slip between her lips where the tip of her tongue brushed over it. Connor groaned aloud at that, his sensitive point responding to the caress of her lips and tongue by pushing deeper into her muzzle.

She began to bob her muzzle, and he let slip a breathy, "Oh, God, yes!" Soft lips brushed his shaft, while her silky soft canine tongue continued to caress his point. Pre-cum welled from his tip each time he clenched and was swept away with each brush of her tongue. He gazed fondly down at Maeve, admiring her as she worked her muzzle steadily along what was now the full length of his cock. He cupped her cheek in his paw, rubbing fondly along the soft fur of her rusty mask.

Connor gripped his thigh with his free hand and growled a soft warning to her, "Maeve, I'm going to, ohh, come..." She looked up at him and smiled, pausing her motion briefly let him admire the sight of his shaft disappearing into her mouth. Her free paw slipped between his thighs and cupped his balls, rolling them slowly in her palm, her finger and thumb pads brushing over his furred sac.

He shuddered as she fondled his ball and groaned. Between her muzzle on his cock and her paw on his balls, it was only a few, short moments before the wolf's whole body tensed. His toes curled in his boots and he gripped his thigh tightly, his other paw tense against her cheek. His shaft throbbed within her mouth, his knot just a hint of a bulge at his base, hidden by the sheath she still gripped and squeezed around it. He moaned as he came, "Ah! Yes!"

Maeve's tail swished under her skirts behind her as Connor spent himself inside her muzzle, length throbbing between her lips as he spurted his seed across the length of her tongue. The wolf groaned and caressed her cheek as she used his sheath to stroke along his shaft, encouraging him to spill more of his musk into her mouth.

After a minute, he had no more. The spurts became surges, and the thickness of semen faded into the thinner fluid that followed his climax. Connor huffed appreciatively and grinned down at Maeve, admiring the way she suckled at his length, bobbing her muzzle slowly along his shaft and cleaning up the last drops.

At last she sat back on her haunches, paws brushing along his inner thighs as he she let his length flop against his belly, still hard, but starting to soften slowly. She huffed, licking her muzzle as she took her time to look Connor over. The collie stood and leaned in close to kiss his cheek, then lifted her muzzle and whispered in his ear. "Mmm, Connor, I'm not done with you, yet."

Stepping back, she took his paw and helped pull him to his feet. Connor grinned, a little addled by the afterglow. "Mmmm?"

Maeve grinned. "As your physician, I insist you be kept under close observation tonight, and strictly limit your activities. Thus, I must move you to another room." He held his pants up with one paw, while she guided him into the hall and to another door. Behind it was another bedroom, larger than the guest room, but again dominated by the bed. It looked much larger than the other, as though two people could share it without touching. He glanced at her, then the bed, and she shrugged. "I like to spread out."

Connor could only grin as she guided him over to the bed. She tossed the covers back, revealing that it had only been lightly made up. Her paws slid over his front, then around his sides and down his back. They slipped under the waist of his pants and eased them off so they fell around his ankles. His drawers went next, and then she pushed him to a seat on the edge of the bed.

She kneeled again, and brushed her paws along his thighs, pawpads caressing his pelt and the muscles beneath more directly than before. One paw slipped up between his thighs and cupped his balls again, rolling the furred sac in her palm. Connor grinned down at her, still basking in the afterglow and the warmth of the whiskey as she first fondled him, then worked his boots off and freed his legs from his clothes. She stood and lifted his legs, easing him over onto the bed. "Mmm, it's bedrest for you tonight, my dear."

Maeve grinned and ducked down again, and he rolled up on his side to watch as she undid her own boots, then stood and worked her way out of her top dress. Underneath, she was clad in a simple chemise, contrasting with the black and rust of her pelt, and almost blending with her white. He smiled, admiring the way the chemise clung to her curves and showed off her form. She leaned over and kissed him again, one paw cupping his sheath and giving it tug, stroking lightly up along his half-erect length. "Mmmm, now my dear Connor, I shall return shortly. I quite like you, but I don't know as I want to bear your pups just yet."

With that, she padded quietly out of the room. Connor, left by himself, lay in the low light of the room's lamp and tried not to think too hard about just how he'd ended up in Maeve's bed. He brushed a paw over his bandaged side as his mind wandered, listening to the patter of the rain outside and the soft pad of Maeve's paws as she moved through the house.

When she returned a few minutes later, she bore a small bottle and a wrapped linen package. She grinned at him and set the items on the chest at the foot of the bed. She paused a moment to look him over, her gaze wandering over him as he lay in her bed, then shook herself and crossed her arms to pull the chemise over her head. Beneath, she bore only a set of drawers herself, which were quickly shucked. The collie stood naked at the side of the bed and brushed herself down, smoothing her paws over her curves. Her thick, rough pelt accented her curves, adding fluff at her hips and bust.

Connor grinned when Maeve climbed into the bed, bottle and package in her paws as she stalked him on all fours. She straddled his hips, settling her rump on his thighs and leaving his cock before her. She set the bottle by his side and untied the package, revealing the thin-walled, slightly-yellowed tube of a sheepskin condom within. Her paw brushed along his cock, and it jumped in response, pushing up into her grip.

The collie grinned and cupped his balls, brushing them with her thumb as her other paw gripped his sheath and stroked the stretchy, furred tube along his shaft. "Now, Connor, you're going to have to give me a bit more to work with." She chuckled as he hardened in her grip, his shaft swelling until it was fully hard once more. She gave him a last squeeze, then reached for the bottle. She worked the cork out, then tipped it over his length, drizzling a light oil along the underside of his shaft. Her paw returned to his shaft, stroking along it and coating it with the thin, slippery oil. She followed this with the condom, taking her time to slip the tube over his cock, her gaze alternating between working it over his cock and watching him, obviously enjoying preparing him.

Connor propped himself up on his elbows and watched, admiring the view as she slipped the close-fitting sleeve over his length, meeting her gaze when she looked up at him. When the condom was on and tied in place, she drizzled more of that lubricant over the surface and set the bottle on the bedside table. She grasped his clad length in her oiled paw and stroked along it, slicking the condom all the way around.

Maeve licked her muzzle and grinned in anticipation. She leaned forward, planting a paw on his chest and pressing him firmly into the bed as she shifted up. Her other paw guided his cock, helping his pointed tip find her entrance. He shuddered at the first touch of that hot flesh and let slip a soft moan as her sex slowly enveloped his cock. The collie woman lowered herself gradually, her body arching in pleasure. When she'd finally buried his length fully within her, she let out a soft sigh and rocked her hips, making his length move slightly within her.

Connor settled back onto his back and slid his paws up along her sides, starting at her thighs, tracing her curves up over her hips, waist, and ribs, then slipping inwards to cup her breasts. He gave a gentle squeeze, feeling them give pleasantly in his hands. She leaned forward, planting a supporting paw by his head, and kissed him firmly. He met the kiss, his muzzle opening as she thrust her tongue into it. His tongue danced with hers as she began to rock her hips, slipping them forward along his length and then pressing backwards.

The collie controlled the rhythm, taking her time as she rode his cock. Her hot, slick inner walls caressed Connor's length through the condom, the barrier nearly forgotten as he rolled his hips in time with hers. He left one paw on one of her breasts, and the other slipped down to cup her hip. The wolf shuddered under Maeve, arching when she clenched tightly around him, her walls gripping at his buried length.

Her free paw, still slick with oil, slipped between them and Connor could feel her brushing her fingers over her clit. He could feel the results, too, as she increased her pace and started to pant, her long, pink tongue lolling out of her muzzle. She shuddered sharply the first time his knot caught at her sex, the bulge swelling rapidly, pressing at her entrance when she bore down upon it and tugging at her inner walls when she pulled off.

Connor growled lustily as his knot caught at her entrance again, the bulge pressing at her sex, spreading it part way. He panted out, "Maeve... If you keep that up, I'm going to tie you."

She kissed his muzzle hungrily and panted, "That's the idea." She shuddered again and bore down harder, grinding firmly until his bulb slipped inside her. Reflexively, her sex clenched hard around him, grabbing at his length and trapping him firmly inside. She bore down hard around him, her hips bucking sharply, tugging at his knot as her fingers flicked over her clit. Moments later, she buried her muzzle in his shoulder and moaned, her walls spasming around his length.

The sudden, tight clench and the heady scent of her climax pushed Connor over the edge again. He gripped her tightly, blunt clawtips digging into her rump cheek and her chest as he came. His cock throbbed within her grip, knot tugging at her entrance with each motion as he spilled his seed into the condom, filling the tight space around his length.

Connor panted softly, basking in the glow of the tie, feeling Maeve's body atop him and her sex around his length. She lifted her muzzle from his shoulder and licked at his lips. He grinned, lifting his muzzle to kiss her fondly. She met his kiss, shifting as she pressed her muzzle to his and shivering a little when his knot tugged at her sex.

When their lips parted, he buried his muzzle against her throat and inhaled deeply, flooding his nose with her scent. She was a mingling of natural collie smells with the phenol and other scents of her trade, and, just now, the lingering, heady scent of lust. He stayed there, savoring her scent, then dropped his head back to the bed and let out a contented sigh.

Maeve looked down at the wolf trapped inside her and nosed at his cheek. She shifted again, sending a little shock through his body through his knot, and then settled comfortably atop him. She nosed at his cheek and brushed a paw over his chest. "Mmmm, Connor, that was delicious." She licked at his chin. "I needed that."

He grinned up at her and rubbed her flopped, rust-colored ear between thumb and forefinger. "Ahh, Maeve, as did I."

They lay in silence for a time, luxuriating in the afterglow and the feel of each other's body. Finally, Maeve rolled her hips, and he felt his knot starting to slip. He shuddered as she worked herself off of the fat bulb, her movements tugging at his cock. When his knot finally slipped from her sex, she shifted forward easily, lifting off of his length. His shaft fell wetly against his belly, wrapped in the condom, and, when he glanced down, he could see his seed trapped within it.

Maeve reached down and carefully slid the sheepskin off of his length, pinching around the base of it to keep his semen inside. He watched her with a grin, enjoying that feeling of her fingers sliding over his length again. The condom finally cleared his tip, and she dropped it in the small bag that had come in the package. She leaned off the edge of the bed and set the bag off to one side. "We'll deal with that in the morning."

Connor licked her muzzle when she settled back atop him. "Mmm, doctor. Perhaps we should get some rest, much as I would love to spend all night doing that."

Maeve grinned and licked his muzzle in return then rolled off of him. She pressed herself up against his side and pulled the covers up over them both. She rubbed her paw slowly through his chest fur, brushing the muscles under his pelt. "Mmm, alas, I must concur with your plan." She licked his cheek and nuzzled in against his shoulder, "Good night, Connor."

Connor kissed her between her ears and leaned back, "Good night, Maeve."

Connor awoke to the morning sun on his face. He groaned quietly and turned his face away, then opened his eyes to find Maeve watching him intently. He raised an eyebrow at her.

She grinned. "I was wondering how much sun you'd sleep through." She tapped him lightly on the nose with a claw. "You must be tired. Sun's been up nearly half an hour."

Connor huffed and grumbled. "You know, I got stabbed last night." He glanced down and pointed to his wrapped chest. "I could show you the wound. It's most grievous."

Maeve chuckled and rubbed a paw aross his chest, "Mmhmm. I was there. It's barely a scratch, you big puppy." She huffed, then licked his muzzle. "Alas, much as I'd like to spend the day in bed with a willing wolf and, say, help him recover, I must tend to my store. And I think you must be off to Harpers Ferry."

Connor's ears swept back at the reminder. He rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling with a sigh. "Yes, that I do." He lay quietly for a moment, then reached over and pulled the collie lass atop him, arms wrapped tight around her. The wolf buried his muzzle in her throat fluff and sighed, breath ruffling her fur.

Maeve leaned down and hugged his neck, nosing between his ears. Her tail swayed lightly above him, feathered fur waving in the morning light. She lingered there with him for a little while, then kissed both his ears and pushed herself up. She gave him a quick kiss on the muzzle and looked down at him. "Mr. Lately, I might accuse you of being maudlin."

Connor returned her gaze, giving her a wan smile. His paws rubbed slowly over her back, fingers exploring her curves and soft fur. "Mm, my dear collie, I do believe I shall miss you inordinately."

She gave him a sharp grin, and her tail gave a brisk wag, "Oh, I don't know about that. Perhaps it will be just enough."

He gave a wry grin and leaned up to lick her chin. "Mmm." He lay under her for a few moments, gazing up into her rust-masked face, taking in those folded-over ears, bright eyes, and sharp-toothed grin. At length, he shifted to one side, and she deftly slipped off of him.

Maeve continued her motion and practically flowed out of the bed. She padded to a wardrobe and pulled it open to rummage inside. In the time it took Connor to find his feet without reopening his cut, she'd slipped into a fresh chemise.

Connor took his time dressing himself, both minding his motions to not pull his cut, and distracted by Maeve as she quickly dressed herself in a fresh, practical dress. He grinned at her as he pulled on his boots. "Maeve, you are looking lovely this morning."

Maeve grinned back at him and poked his bare chest. "Connor, you are looking a bit under-dressed." She huffed and her tail swished under her dress. "Mmm, or over-dressed, but that would be for another time." She gave a soft sigh herself, then took his paw. "Come now, let's get you to your shirt so you can at least appear respectable when you go get your things from the tavern."

Maeve fetched his coat from the guest room, then Connor followed her down the stairs and found his shirt draped over the back of a chair near the stove. With Maeve's help, he carefully donned both once more. Respectably dressed once more, he turned to face the collie woman and slipped his arms around her waist. He pulled her close to him and kissed her deeply. Her arms slipped under his and up along his back as she returned it enthusiastically.

They jumped slightly at the sound of the door opening and reluctantly drew apart. Katie, standing in the doorway with a grin, spoke up. "Ah, Mr. Wallace. I see you found your shirt."

Connor's ears flattened and he cleared his throat. "Ahh, yes, I did. My thanks to you for that."

Katie nodded. "And my thanks to you again for your intervention last night." She grinned again and cocked an eyebrow at Maeve. "Though perhaps my sister has already seen fit to express the depth of our appreciation."

Maeve managed, briefly, to look embarrassed. Then she grinned, her ears perked and tail swishing behind her again, "Oh, very much so." She tapped her muzzle with a finger. "Although, I believe his bags and horse are still at the tavern, as is your wagon. Perhaps we should take breakfast there."

Katie chuckled. "Aye, that would be a good plan. However, I've already been to the tavern this morning. They'd like to see less of you for a time, Maeve, and you, Connor."

Connor grimaced, his ears splaying and his tail tucking against his leg. "I suppose that makes sense. I -- Hm. I guess I'll have to include that in my report. I'm sure Mr. Harris will have something to say about that. And the bill. How am I to settle that?"

Katie gestured out towards the front. "In so much as Thad would rather punch you in the face than talk to you, Connor, a sentiment he shared with me at great length, I offered to settle the matter by proxy."

Connor grumbled, his ears tucking back against his skull. "Me? Not Cleary? He's the one as drew a knife on your husband!"

Maeve growled beside him, obviously feeling less restrained. "Damnit, Katie, that Clearly bastard's been causing trouble for ages! What the hell is Thad's problem?!"

Katie held up her paws to forestall them both. "Yes, Cleary is a troublemaker, but he's also the only miller around, and does plenty of business at Birkett's, and that is the matter that is distressing Thad at the moment. As you can see, we all came through well enough." She shrugged. "Cleary's business will suffer, and that will hit most of the town in the wallet, which they'll feel the worst. He wasn't terribly thrilled about spending the evening cleaning up blood or having to replace a glass. Minor stuff, really, but it's what's bubbling to the top right now. I think they're really concerned about how much trouble Tom Cleary will cause when he returns."

Connor cocked his head. "Returns?"

Katie nodded. "Aye. He's been sent off to Berlin to see a doctor for his arm. You did quite a number on it, and, as Thad tells it, he was howling in pain when he woke up, and didn't shut up the entire night." She shook her head. "Thad said Tom had more than a few choice words for you, Connor. I doubt he'll ever forgive you, and if you pass this way again, you should avoid Birkett's. Or, really, any of the shops in town."

Maeve slid an arm around Connor's waist. "Well, except here. If you don't stop here, I'll have to hunt you down."

Connor chuckled and nosed at her muzzle. "And I'd rather deal with Tom Cleary again than be hunted by you." He looked at Katie again. "So, I take it you are still in Thad's good graces, somehow?"

She shrugged. "Unlike my loving husband and dear sister, I try to avoid ruffling feathers. And we were the victims, after all. They don't even hate Maeve, really, they just have less tolerance for her than usual. They'll still come by when they need things."

Maeve harrumphed. "Well that's something. But I suppose I'll be taking my meals in for a while."

Katie nodded. "That would seem prudent. Perhaps you can come visit us at the house. I'm sure Harry will appreciate the company, even if he wouldn't admit it."

Connor cleared his throat. "I noticed we've been talking around the bill. How bad is it?"

Katie drew in a deep breath, as though steeling herself. "Your room and stabling for the night, meal and drink, three dollars, fifty cents. Repairs to tavern furniture, cleanup, and a new glass, another dollar-fifty."

He nodded. "Five dollars. That's not so bad. What else?"

"Quite so. Accounting for Mr. Cleary's doctor's bill, and transport to and from Berlin for same, plus lost wages, will be another fifty dollars."

Connor coughed. "Goodness."

Maeve stomped the floor. "Damnit, Katie! Fifty dollars? That's usury!"

Katie shook her head. "It certainly is steep, but it won't be said that Connor hasn't done more than enough to set things to rights, and it will keep us all out of the courts, which would be quite an inconvenience, given how much work we all have."

Connor sighed and shrugged. "There is that. That's not something the Army will reimburse me for but, I suppose I wasn't spending my pay on anything. Did you bring my bags back? I don't have that in my coat here."

Katie chuckled and gestured towards the front of the shop. "Aye. Your saddle and bags are in my wagon, and your mare is tied up out front."

Connor gruffed, then nodded again. "My thanks again, Mrs. Halloran. If you'll pardon me, I'll go get the sum."

Katie shook her head. "Nae, stay. We've a breakfast set out in the next room, and the coffee is hot. You can pay me before you leave."

After breakfast was finished, during which even Harry managed to seem less taciturn, Maeve, Katie out front as Connor saddled his mare. Once the bags were settled properly, he rummaged in them and pulled out a leather wallet. Undoing the clasp, he searched inside and extracted five ten-dollar bills. He fished out a second wallet and pulled a five dollar bill from it, then passed the sum to Katie. "Five from the Army, and fifty from me. Thank you again for handling this."

Katie took the bills and slipped them into her own wallet with a nod. "My pleasure, Connor. Settling this with Thad will be the least I can do for what you've done."

Connor touched a thumb and forefinger to his brow to lift a cap he wasn't wearing and nodded at her. "Well then, I must be off. Mrs. Halloran." He turned to Maeve and took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. "Ms. Ramsey. It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope I pass through again. Your hospitality is most exemplary."

Maeve grinned and gave a half-curtsey. "Mr. Wallace, you are too kind. Do stop in again." Her grin widened to show some teeth. "If you don't, I'll find you." She gestured to his wallet. "You'll find my address on the bill from last night, should you need a reminder of how to get here, or perhaps simply like to write."

Connor grinned, then reached into his wallet and held out a card that largely declared 'US Army' on it. In smaller script underneath, it read 'Major Connor Wallace,' and an address in Washington, DC. "And you may write me here. I am in the office every week or two. They have me ranging the area to keep me out of the balls for a while."

Maeve grinned at him as she took the card. "You'll have to tell me that story some time."

Connor returned his wallet to his bags and turned, pausing. He took Maeve's paw and lifted it to kiss it again, then leaned in to kiss her more directly. "I'll be glad to. Soon." He turned sharply and, carefully, swung up on his horse. He raised his paw to his brow again, "Good day, Ms. Ramsey, Mrs. Halloran."

Then waved at him as he turned his horse west on the road, and he caught a glimpse of Katie leaning in to say something to her sister, too quietly for him to catch. From the way Maeve elbowed her in return, he was sorry to have missed it. Connor walked his mare for a few minutes, then urged her into a light canter, the sooner to leave Hillsborough behind before any of the locals took exception to him this morning or before he gave in to the mounting urge to go back to Maeve. It was another twelve miles to Harper's Ferry, but twelve miles from the collie lass he'd only just met was the longest twelve miles he'd ever considered.