“Whoa, Babe,” Paul Bunyan calls to the big ox, pulling her reins tight. Sherlock Holmes stands nearby, directly across from the water trough, as Paul leads the animal to drink. Sherlock watches Paul as he cares for his beloved creature, an amused expression on his face. Paul spies him watching and half turns in Holmes’ direction.
“Is there a problem…Englishman?” Paul says with a sarcastic sneer.
Sherlock walks over to the trough and rubs the blue ox’s side. Babe flicks her tail and gives Sherlock a sideways glance. The black and white goat trots up just at this particular moment and drinks from the trough beside Babe. Sherlock shies away from the goat, walking slowly around Babe’s rump. His voice becomes soft and analytical.
“Simone tells me you are awaiting Calamity Jane’s arrival. That you were once…Lovers,” Sherlock says. He studies Paul Bunyan closely.
Paul rubs Babe’s side as she drinks her fill. He tries to keep his voice level—even as he struggles to keep his angry outburst in check.
“What of it? What business is it of yours, Englishman?” Paul retorts. He does not even bother to look at Sherlock Holmes.
“Calamity Jane…She is…Quite an unusual woman,” Sherlock says while crossing his arms behind his back. He chooses his next words very carefully. “Strong…Assertive. She lives life with a purpose. As I said, quite an unusual woman. Not unlike another woman I knew very well. Irene Adler. The only woman who could keep her own against me intellectually. I can see why you might favor Jane. In another place and another time, I might have tried courting her as well. Oh well. Steady on. I do hope she has found more opium during her travels. I am in desperate need of more.”
Sherlock heads back to the warehouse. Paul watches him go with a puzzled expression. Was this how he looked to the others during his drunken spells? Raving and idiotic. Paul can’t help but believe it is.
Glancing at his reflection in the water of the trough, Paul runs a finger through his hair and over the stubble on his chin. Time to do something about that. But not today. Well, maybe just a haircut.
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Paul hovers over the water trough, staring at his stubble-covered face. The dirty ponytail has been sniped from his head and he holds a rusty pair of scissors in one hand. He turns his head slowly from side to side, admiring his facial features. Still rugged and good looking after all of these years.
Paul returns to work on his hair. A wide grin transforms his countenance and he almost looks like a completely different person. Funny thing is, he feels like a different person. Suddenly, another face appears in the reflective surface of the water. That blasted goat. The goat makes a loud coughing sound and then turns to Paul Bunyan. The frontiersman remains perfectly still—attempting to out-stare the cantankerous beast. They remain this way for nearly five minutes.
Eventually, the goat huffs and takes a long loud drink of water. It shoots Paul Bunyan another fierce look before trotting away. Probably, in search of Babe. Paul’s face contorts in confusion and he shakes his head amusedly. What the hell is wrong with that dumb goat? Lucky for him, he hadn’t needed to make a beeline out of there. He didn’t fancy the idea of running with scissors.
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Simone carefully makes her way up the wooden staircase. She pauses at the door to the attic. An elaborate mirror covers almost the entire front of the door, framed in what must surely be sterling silver. Simone runs her fingers over the surface of the mirror's frame, admiring the intricate designs woven into the metal. Pulling her right sleeve over her hand, she uses it to wipe off some of the grime on the face of the mirror. Only cleaning a small circular portion, she peers at her own face.
"You're looking tired these days, Simone," she chides herself.
With a chuckle, she turns the doorknob and pushes the attic door open. The enormous space is empty, with the exception of a few pieces of furniture and some very old packing boxes. Simone crosses the room and kneels on both knees before a large box. She folds back the flaps and let's out a loud gasp.
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"Oh my. How pretty," Simone sighs in disbelief.
She draws out a large clay jug. The jug is quite obviously homemade. The glaze coating on the clay masterpiece is of a reddish-orange hue and is thinner in several places. However, the overall aesthetic of the jug is beautiful.
Simone holds the jug by one of its two handles, testing its weight. She quickly decides it is much too heavy for that and grips it by both handles. Placing the jug on the floor, she continues to sift through the box. She removes item after item. Eventually, she has a decent sized pile of goods. Mostly gardening supplies; gloves, a knee mat, sunhat, and seeds.
"This is so weird," Simone whispers softly. "Where did all of this come from? Who used to live here? And where is here? There seems to be stuff here from many different time periods. None of this makes any sense. It's as if..."
Simone shakes off her most recent revelation, filing it away for another time. Searching the entire attic, she finds an empty basket. She places her salvaged goods inside the basket and makes her way to the attic door. She takes one final look around before exiting the attic. Shutting the door softly behind her, she carefully goes back downstairs.
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Simone is practically skipping as she makes her way toward the warehouse Sherlock Holmes calls home. Maybe he will know where she can find a shovel and trowel. It not, she'll just have to make one. Or convince Crank to make one for her. Although, she's sure he won't need much convincing.
As she passes the water trough, she catches sight of Paul Bunyan. The lumberjack has chopped off his dirty ponytail, and is admiring his reflection in the water of the animal trough. Babe the ox, as well as the black and white goat, are not far away. Simone grips the basket handle securely in one hand, while raising two fingers to her mouth. She lets out a loud dog whistle.
"Hey, Paul!" Simone hollers. "Guess you clean up real nice too!?"
Paul casually looks up. He glimpses Simone and her basket of goodies. Running a hand through his hair, he manages an enormous smile.
"Why thanks," he yells back.
"You want my advice though? Lose the beard!" Simone says.
She continues walking toward the warehouse. Paul's scrunches his face and shakes his head.
"I don't see you telling that to your spaceman boyfriend!" Paul protests.
Simone stops walking and shoots Paul a sarcastic grin over one shoulder.
"That's different!" She says in a mockingly stern tone.
As Simone walks away, Paul finds himself studying her carefully. The slope of her shoulders, her waist, the swaying of her feminine hips. Shaking his head, Paul inhales sharply.
"If you say so," Paul whispers to absolutely no one in particular.
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When Simone departs from the warehouse, trowel in hand, she is greeted by the sound of loud grunting. Unsure of what she will find, Simone follows the noise to its source. The barn.
Paul Bunyan hangs from the enormous door frame by both hands. He is in the middle of doing another chin up, when Simone approaches the spot where he hangs. Lowering himself to where he can meet Simone's gaze, Paul offers her a toothy grin.
"Paul? What are you doing?" Simone questions. Although the answer is quite clear.
"Well," Paul mutters in his customary drawl. "Seeing as how Calamity Jane might be arriving soon...Figured I'd better work on getting my old physique back. Been doing a lot of drinking lately. Takes a toll on the old belly. Feel kind of flabby...Like I've got skin made of flapjacks."
Simone stifles a laugh and shakes her head in amusement.
"Ever heard of a push-up? Or a leg crunch? Or a jumping jack?" Simone teases. "They're a whole lot more effective and safer than what you're doing right now. Especially, with that leg. What if you came down on it too hard? You could be hurt."
"What the hell is a leg crunch?!" Paul says and drops down to the ground. "And why would I want to jump some jacks?! Besides, what's to be safe about?"
Simone is unable to control her laughter. She shakes her head again, this time as a gesture of surrender.
"No...No. Nevermind," Simone struggles to say. "Just...Keep doing...What you're doing. I'll leave you to it."
The sound of Simone's laughter warms Paul's heart and he takes a step forward. Drawing Simone into a bear hug, Paul chuckles as well.
"It sure is good to hear someone laugh," Paul says.
The feel of Simone's body pressed against him is a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time. Not since Jane. The scent of a woman; the softness of her hair against your neck or cheek. The form of her body melding with your own.
Paul covers his emotional turmoil with a throaty laugh and squeezes Simone tightly. Simone believes he is simply being Paul Bunyan; loud, obnoxious, and a little crazy. Patting Simone's back in a friendly manner, Paul releases her. Their laughing fit now passed, they each take a moment to collect themselves. Simone wipes at a tear and turns to leave.
"See you later, Paul," Simone says. "I still have to find a shovel. I'm going to try planting a garden out by the farmhouse. Just be careful, okay? We don't need you getting hurt. It's not like we have a doctor out here."
Paul smiles his toothy grin yet again and pretends to tip a hat in Simone's direction.
"And I didn't think you cared," Paul drawls mockingly.
"Don't push it," Simone says and saunters away.
Paul watches her go with a solemn expression.
-
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That evening, Paul chooses to sleep outside--under the stars. The dust storm which raged earlier that afternoon has died down. All that remains is a few regular gusts sweeping in from what Paul assumes is the south. Although, directions are rather moot in a place without a beginning or an end.
Paul rearranges the bed roll under his head and smiles up at the sky. He wonders if Jane is lying somewhere--staring up at the same beautiful sky. He sincerely hopes that she is. One day, they may be able to count the stars together. Maybe one day soon.