Hi all, just thought I'd put what was meant to be the prologue to a story about my Courier here. I find it really annoying that I still can get ideas and make outlines in my head about the progression of a story, but I just can't seem to actually write much of anything anymore. Anyhow, enjoy!
~*~
Sitting in an open window, Madame took a long draw on her clove cigarette before letting the smoke slowly curl out of her nostrils into the heat of the early evening while looking out over the flagstone paved courtyard below where an ages old fountain stood and surprisingly burbled away. The sound of it was cool and inviting and if she weren’t otherwise occupied, it would be very tempting to go down to the fountain and splash her face with the water that bubbled up from the artesian well that had faithfully supplied sweetwater for centuries now.
Situated around the courtyard was a large Spanish-style ranch house that had, as far as Madame was aware, always belonged to her family. The tale had been that long ago, long before the possibility for global nuclear annihilation was ever dreamt of, Madame’s family had settled in the area escaping the ravages of the American Civil War to become ranchers. They worked their fingers to the bone raising cattle and sheep, struggling through lean years and often only barely keeping the wolves from the door.
It was sheer dumb luck that her umpteen times great grandfather had discovered the well while apparently digging a grave for some long forgotten distant relative. After that, for whatever reason, lady luck seemed to smile upon Madame’s ancestors and by the turn of the 19th century into the 20th they were one of the wealthier landowners in Nevada. Over the years the estate had been passed down the family line to the eldest and as in days of old, it had stood the test of time and the Great War and eventually the grand old lady had found itself in Madame’s care.
Under the direction of its new owner, the two headed brahmin that her father had been so fond of were sold off and signs along the I-163 appeared, pointing the way to the newly christened Cat’s Cradle. Let there be no mistake however, while herds no longer roamed freely around the estate, the place was still very much a ranch. The difference was just that the livestock was of a different variety.
Looking off in the distance, Madame could pick out the first of the caravans coming down this long stretch of I-163. In the deepening gloom of the desert evening, they paused long enough to light their lanterns so they could get at least another hour on the road before calling it a night. Something about seeing those lonely flickering lights filled Madame with a heavy sadness that would settle deep in her chest, but she could never quite understand why. At any rate, while this wasn’t the only or shortest route that spanned between Arizona and California, it was one of the few that its paving was still relatively intact making the journey just that little bit easier. Although the Cat’s Cradle was still a good half mile off the 163, it was more or less halfway between the two borders and with its ample supply of fresh water and beds, it had become a fairly popular stopping point. In fact, it wouldn’t be long before those pack brahmins would be driven into the yard and the caravanners would demand a few home comforts for the evening.
Madame’s thoughts were interrupted when a low groan sounded from behind her, making made her brow crease with irritation. Quickly finishing off her cigarette, she flicked the butt down into the courtyard and hissed, “Can’t you make her hurry it up Doc?”
A fat, balding man glanced up at Madame over his half-lens glasses with bleary, bloodshot eyes, pinning her with a look of weary exasperation. He’d spent most of the day stuck in this infernal room with little more than water to drink, which was obvious by the way his hands shook as he tucked his stethoscope back into his well worn doctor’s bag.
“You damn well know that babies get here when they get here,” he said drily. “Or don’t you remember when you pushed one outta your ol’ dry-”
“Better not finish that sentence if you plan on stayin’ here rent free, Orville,” Madame snapped and crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a superior look.
For one moment Orville considered telling Madame where to shove her free rent, but knew he had far too good a deal here. In exchange for his services as a doctor, Madame gave him room and board, booze and, on occasion, a tumble with one of the girls. He wasn’t about to get that kind of offer anywhere else considering the fact that most places actually prefered their doctors to be sober when working on patients.
Whipping off his glasses, Orville rubbed at his eyes and said, “I don’t think she’ll be too much longer now. Last I checked she was about fully dilated and her contractions were only minutes apart.”
Nodding her head, Orville watched as Madame’s usual hawkish expression softened into something motherly and she went over to the bed and gently took the hand of the girl laying there and patted it.
“Jess? How you doin’ hon?” she asked sweetly and unsuccessfully tried to brush away some locks of hair that had plastered themselves to the girl’s forehead.
It took a few moments but eventually Jess’ eyes fluttered opened, rolling for a bit before finally focusing on Madame. The girl gave a weak smile and said, “I ain’t doing too good, Ma’am.”
“Aw, hon, you’re doing just fine,” Madame soothed. “First one’s always the hard ‘un.”
“That’s what Doc- argh!” Jess groaned and gripped Madame’s hand tightly as a new contraction grabbed hold of her.
“Son of a bitch!” Madame exclaimed through clenched teeth and tried to pull her hand away, but it was no good. All she could do was ride it out along with Jess.
“Madame! I gotta push!” Jess suddenly shouted, panic in her voice.
“Now don’t you worry, you just listen to ol’ Orville and he’ll get you through,” she assured and finally pried her hand out of Jess’ and stepped away so Orville could do his job. Seating herself in a nearby armchair, all Madame could do was watch and wait for this whole debacle to be over.
Jess had always been one of the more popular fillies in her stable. Affable, sweet natured, with a girl-next-door appeal, men would quite gladly pay double to spend some time with her. Unfortunately, one of the hazards of the job was unplanned pregnancies. Usually in those circumstances, most of the girls were at least amenable to letting Orville do his thing. However, by the time Jess had actually come clean to Madame about it, it would have been far too dangerous to have Orville sort the problem out. Not that it really mattered though. If there was anything Madame had learned in her last 20 years in this business it was that men were sick and twisted fucks. Indeed, Jess with her ever increasing belly, was every bit as popular.
Now that the baby was on its way, Madame couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before Jess could start working again. Undoubtedly the girl’s milky tits would fetch a few caps because, again, men were sick and had their kinks and Madame had no qualms in satisfying them as long as it lined her pockets.
And, if Madame were lucky, Jess’ baby would follow after its mother. If not, well… Madame had a special arrangement to take care of the ones that would only ever be more of a drain than an asset.
Again, Madame’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Jess in agony and Orville grumpily cheering her on.
“C’mon girl! Push harder damn it!”
“Don’t you fucking let her tear, you old lush,” Madame interjected helpfully as she watched the head crown.
With a final despairing cry, Jess’ baby was delivered. There was an agonizing moment of silence that was finally broken with a squall.
“Well?” Madame demanded, scooting to the edge of her seat in anticipation.
“It’s a girl,” Orville snapped back.
Jumping up from her seat, Madame clapped her hands and almost did a jig as she went over to Jess. At the very least she wasn’t going to have to try and arrange for a collection. Besides, Madame couldn’t stand having to pry the boy whelps from their mothers. It wasn’t because she felt guilty for doing it, it was simply bad for business. Generally without exception, the mother would turn in on herself, shuffling around the place like a ghost.
By now Orville had bundled the baby up and passed it over to Jess who seemed to instinctively know what to do and held her daughter close, nuzzling her head and taking in the heady scent.
“Hot damn, a girl!” Madame exclaimed, running a hand over the baby’s head and lightly fingering the fine strands of gold that were there. “Just look at her! She’s a beaut! What’s her name?”
There was a long pause as Jess considered what to name the precious bundle in her arms.
“Sadie,” she finally said with almost a sigh.
“Her name is Sadie.”
by 
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