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Jamie and the Ladies by Cat

Word Count – 5,245

#2 in the Jamie Series

“How’re you holdin’ up, son?” Johnny asked the small boy who nestled into his side.  He smoothed the blond bangs away from his son’s forehead.  This was the longest trip Jamie had ever taken, and he had been fractious with the pain from his teeth, but he was a Lancer, too.

“Good, Pa,” Jamie said, shifting in his seat again.  “My tongue’s sore.”

“You gotta stop running it over those teeth, Jamie.  It wouldn’t be sore then.”

“I can’t help it. It does it on its own.” 

Johnny smiled at his son.  “Aren’t you hot, leaning against me?” he asked.  “Why don’t you scoot over there?”

Jamie shook his head and clasped a handful of Johnny’s jacket.  “How far is it now?”  He hadn’t asked that question as often as Johnny had expected him to.

Johnny looked out of the window of the train.  The land was all soft grays and creams, with a little green before the land swept up into the triangular, blue-violet hills.

“Be a while yet.  You think you could eat something?”

Jamie nodded instinctively at the offer of food and took the jelly sandwich, with the crusts removed specially for him, that the hotel had made up for him.  Johnny took a sandwich of his own and they ate together, Jamie wincing and keeping the food on one side of his mouth, and they talked a little, making the long slow journey a little less tedious.


The railroad station was crawling with folk, women in dresses which were, to Johnny’s eye, absurdly impractical and showy.  Johnny fetched his valise from the overhead, took Jamie by the hand and set off for the cab stand.

When he felt some resistance, Johnny kneeled down to Jamie’s level.  “You tell me if you need anythin’, all right?  We have a long way to go yet.”

Jamie looked anxiously around, trying to get his bearings.  Johnny took the hint and found the Necessary, then, when Jamie was comfortable again, straightened his hair and jacket.

“You’ll do,” he said, taking his six-year-old son’s hand.  “You ready?”

Jamie nodded.  “Are we going to the hotel now?” he asked, then yawned widely.

“Yeah, but it’ll be after seven before we get there, I reckon.  We have to check in, then you can go to bed.  Tomorrow’s a big day.”

“I have to go to the dentist tomorrow?”

“You do.  We were lucky to get an appointment.  Same week I had to be here anyway.  I reckon Sam was right – you need to have those two teeth fixed before they cause you more problems.”

“They’re real sore now, Pa. They’re sharp.”

“I know they are.  Well, tomorrow, no more problems, all right?  This dentist knows what he’s doing, Sam said.”

“Okay,” Jamie said uncertainly.

Johnny, valise in one hand and his son’s small fist grasped in his other hand, exited the main building, found the cab stand and hailed a cab.

“That horse needs a rest,” Jamie said, pointing to the thin, sad-looking creature harnessed to the cab.  “And some oats.”

“Come on – you’ll be having me buy him for you next.”

“Where to, mister?” shouted the cabby.  He had a strong Spanish accent and Johnny gave him directions in that language, to the cabdriver’s surprise.  Then he boosted Jamie into the dark interior of the cab.  It was close and strong-smelling in there, and Johnny was concerned that it would make his son sick to his stomach, but his little boy curled up and for him there was hardly a breath between waking and sleeping.


The hotel lobby, with its green drapes, green and gold carpet and gold fittings struck Johnny as, well, frankly, a little too green.  And maybe less gold would have been good, too.  But he lined up with the rest of the people checking in and felt Jamie lean against his leg.

“Won’t be long.  Hey Jamie – looky there!”  Johnny nodded his head at a group of chattering, happy ladies, all shaking hands and hugging each other.  “They look pleased to be meeting up,” said Johnny, shuffling forward in the queue.

“Pa?  Why are they all lookin’ at ya?” 

“They are?”  Johnny was busy with the desk clerk and didn’t bother to look.

“Yeah!  The one with a book in her hand keeps pointin’ at ya.”

“They’re not, Jamie.  I expect some more friends of theirs have arrived.”  He began to negotiate for a room and board then signed the ledger and made sure he had the key.  Jamie pulled on the leg of Johnny’s pants.

“Pa.  One of them’s coming over here.”

Johnny turned and found himself face to face with a woman in her forties, who was grinning like a child.

“It can’t be!” she was saying.  “I just don’t believe it!”

“Ma’am,” Johnny said, tipping his hat and looking over the woman’s shoulder at the group of fifteen – or – or maybe more than twenty ladies, all looking expectantly at him.

“You’re Mr. Madrid, aren’t you?  I mean, we know all the stories about you, and the pictures.  There’s just no mistaking you!”

Johnny looked at the book she was showing him.  “Johnny Madrid, Pistolero.  The True Story of a Border Gunhawk,” it was called, and it had a picture on the front cover which for once looked remarkably like him.

He paused.  There were two ways this could go.  He had occasionally met people who had read a book about him and tried to kill him for the glory of it.  He didn’t want to be meeting any more folks of that nature.  On the other hand, some just wanted him to write his name in their books. It seemed a fair bet that the ladies didn’t want to challenge him to a gunfight.  Well, he had nothing much else to do for a couple of minutes at least, although Jamie was dragging on his hand.

He grinned, a little nervous just in case he had guessed wrong.  He resisted the urge to shuffle his feet.  “Hi.  Yeah, that was me.  But it’s been a while – surprised you can still recognise me.”

The woman blushed and smiled nervously.  “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.  You’ll be wanting to get to your room.”

Johnny hesitated.  It always paid to be nice to people, he had found.  “Do you want me to put my name in your book, ma’am?”  He smiled again, glancing across at the group of interested ladies.

“If you sign just mine, the club will be very jealous.  We’re the SFLHS, by the way.  The San Francisco Ladies’ Historical Society.”

“Ah.  Well, I guess I could sign a few more. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any difficulties.  But I can’t right now.”  Now he was seriously in trouble but something about the group looked – well, all right, it looked fun.  Perhaps he would have a chance to set straight a few of those dime novel lies. 

“Well – if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition – tomorrow, perhaps?  We’re meeting in that room there all day tomorrow.  If you’d care to join us at any time we’d be delighted, absolutely delighted.”  She looked delighted, too, and her words flowed unstoppably. “It’s such a coincidence!  This new book about you has just been published, and we were going to discuss its historical accuracy. Every month we choose a new hero – I mean, a new person of historical significance . . .”

She was in deep water and so was he, hearing himself spoken about in those terms.  They certainly needed someone to give them a few pointers about how it really was to be Johnny Madrid.  Question was, was he ready to do that?  He glanced at the ladies.  Maybe just a few stories.  Stay a short while.  So long as he didn’t have to read the book.  But he could see himself answering a few easy enquiries about his days as Madrid.

He was about to accept her invitation, with some strict limitations, when Jamie forestalled him.

“Pa.  Can we go now?”

“Oh!  Mr. Madrid!  Is this your little boy?”

“Lancer, ma’am.  I go by the name of Lancer these days.  Yeah, this is Jamie.  Jamie, say hello to the lady.”

Jamie looked up at his father.

“Go on.  You don’t want her thinkin’ I raised you with no manners.”

“Howdee, ma’am,” said Jamie, making a game of the greeting and earning a glance from his father.

“Jamie,” said the woman, smiling at the small boy.  “And how old are you?”

“Six years and three months,” Jamie answered promptly.  “And I’m here ’cuz I broke two teeth.  Look!”  He opened his mouth and she looked, and said all the right things until Jamie was squirming with pleased embarrassment. 

Johnny could tell he was just about to start on the story of his mishap with his pony, and was preparing to head him off when the woman said, “Dentist, then?  Well, when you’re all done there perhaps you wouldn’t mind if we borrowed your father for a little while.”

“Not in the mornin’,” Jamie said, instantly sounding worried.  “I need Pa in the mornin’.” 

Johnny put his arm round his boy’s shoulders.  “I’ll be there, Jamie.  Don’t worry now.  Ma’am, it’s him and me.  We come as a package deal.  Don’t worry – he has a book and some coloring pencils.  He’ll be quiet.”

“I really can’t believe this, Mr. M – Mr. Lancer.  It seems like a sort of miracle.  Well, just knock on the door at any time.”  And with this, the woman smiled a little more confidently and backed away to join her lady friends.  As Johnny climbed the stairs, the noise of their chatter rose several notches.

“Who are all those ladies?” Jamie asked, jumping from one step to the next.

“Admirers of Johnny Madrid, son.” Johnny replied.  “So you’d better be good tomorrow – and so had I!


By lunchtime the next day, Johnny was regretting his agreement to join the ladies.  He wanted to, but Jamie was in great pain from the work done on his teeth and had cried himself into a fitful doze.  The dentist had been kindness and patience itself but that didn’t make the job any less painful.  Johnny was sitting on his son’s bed, soothing him and wishing he could do more to make him feel better.

There was a knock at the door and he got up carefully to answer it, expecting a room service delivery of some ice for Jamie.  However, it was the woman from the previous evening, and she had a friend with her.

“Hello.  We noticed you bringing Jamie back and thought perhaps we could offer some help?”  This was the woman who had already spoken to him, and she was noticeably more relaxed than her companion.

“Toothache is so distressing,” said the other woman.  She was clearly a little older than her companion.  “My three had some miserable times with their teeth.  I went out for some oil of cloves, as it’s the best cure I know.”

Oil of cloves.  That’s what Teresa had said.  Johnny had forgotten all about her instructions.

“That’s great, ma’am!  Thanks!”  He grasped the small, brown bottle, trying to read the instructions.  “How do you put it on him again?”

Jamie woke up and sniffled.  “Pa.  It hurts.  I never had anything hurt this bad.”

“I’m sorry, ladies.  It don’t look like I’ll be attending your club meeting after all.  I have to look after Jamie.”  He smiled apologetically, and the ladies looked at each other.  Like most women, they were pretty good at communicating silently when they needed to.

“Er – excuse me – I have a suggestion,” said the older lady, going to Jamie’s side.  “It’s a little cooler downstairs, and there are some ladies there who are very experienced with children.  We could look after Jamie.  Why don’t you bring him with you?”

Johnny thought about it.  He wasn’t altogether sure he remembered what to do with the oil of cloves anyway, just that Teresa had said he should be very careful with it.  And cooler sounded better.

“How d’you feel about that?” he asked Jamie.

“I wanna stay with you, Pa,” his young son said, looking worried.  “Don’t leave me here!  I’m awful hot!”

That decided it.  He nodded to the two ladies, picked Jamie right off the bed and carried him downstairs, Jamie’s head lolling on his shoulder. The two ladies followed on behind.


The large meeting room was indeed cooler, on the shady side of the hotel.  As Johnny entered, there was a spontaneous burst of applause from the ladies, who were all smiling at him and at each other.  All his life, his relationship with Johnny Madrid had been ambivalent, to say the least.  Now, at last, here was a moment to enjoy the best of the person he had been.  He smiled and greeted everyone, and started to hear some names.  He began to feel thoroughly pleased with the whole situation.

Then Jamie brought him back down to earth by sniffing loudly.  As soon as he had been set down on his feet he had scooted round behind Johnny in the face of so many strangers.  He peered round at them from his cover.  By sniffing, he caught their attention and Johnny watched the flush on his face rise as everyone looked at him.

Moments later, Jamie was taken gently from him by one lady, settled on the couch with some comfortable cushions by another and then a third was kneeling by the little boy, carefully applying the oil of cloves.  A drink of lemonade was placed within his reach and a younger lady drew up a chair and sat by him, talking quietly to him until his eyelids drooped as he relaxed.

He looked like a princeling.  Johnny hoped his son wouldn’t expect this treatment every time he got sick.  But a little cosseting after the morning’s trials wouldn’t do him any harm.

And he had to admit, it was pretty good for himself, too.  Like Jamie, he was seated comfortably, a glass of lemonade and some delicious-looking cakes on an occasional table close by.  The rest of the ladies introduced themselves, and he took time to speak respectfully to each one.

Then there were questions and he tried his best to give honest answers, avoiding anything that would shock or distress, but not glorifying the situation either.  He told them of the downright hardships he had endured sometimes, and the rip-roaring fun, too.  He told a good story, dead-panning until the punchline and, more often than not, telling stories against himself for their amusement.  They laughed, and asked sensible questions, and made some notes, too, especially when he told them some place names, and details of what he had worn – they seemed to like those especially.

He even managed, after a little gentle coaxing, to tell them something of Sarah, Jamie’s mother, and just for a moment he felt she was there with him, enjoying his moment of fame and encouraging him.  The moment faded but he felt happier within himself than he had felt for a long time.

Finally, as the afternoon wore into evening he began to say his farewells.  Yet they still had something more for him, a gift, which was presented to him with due ceremony.  It seemed that one of the ladies had friends – or rather a husband – in high places.  It was a railroad pass for himself and Jamie, for the journey to San Francisco and back, once a year, for his lifetime.

“So that you will return often, Mr. Lancer, and bring Jamie whenever you please.” 

He began to protest at their generosity, but they would have none of it.  “No, Mr. Lancer.  Do not look on it as an obligation to return – merely a reminder that we would very much enjoy your company any year you care to come to see us.  I have sent my name and address to your father, so that there may be no impropriety in the matter.  Write to us next year and let us agree a date and a venue.”

He nodded and thanked them.  It would be good for Jamie to come each year to the big city to be spoiled and be the centre of attention.  And it wouldn’t do him any harm, either.  It was a thoughtful gift and he slipped the envelope containing his gift into his inside jacket pocket.

It was time to go.  Many of the ladies had families to tend, and they had only booked the room until six in the evening but they were all reluctant to leave.  Finally, the room emptied, leaving the woman who had first approached him.

“Now – you’re sure you’re all right for tomorrow?  Did you say your business was in the morning?  What is Jamie going to do?”

“I was hoping to take him along with me.  Shouldn’t take too long.  He’s a good boy.”

“He is.  He’s been very patient with all our chatter.  But I wonder, may I suggest he comes to my house for the morning?  I have two children about his age and I am sure we can find something quiet to do to entertain him.  I can send a carriage over for him at nine.”

Johnny pondered.  It would be good for Jamie to meet some more children his age and it would be churlish to refuse.  They would have the afternoon together to do some sight-seeing, then one more night before they headed home. 

“Thank you again, ma’am.  I think I’ll take you up on that offer.  I’ll have him ready for nine.”

She smiled.  “We’ll be very happy to have him.  Good evening, Mr. Lancer. Mr.  Johnny Madrid.  It’s been a pleasure to meet you at long last.” 

“Johnny, ma’am.  Johnny’ll do.”

She shook his hand and said her goodbyes.  Johnny went to Jamie and woke him gently.  The sleepy blue eyes looked at him.

“Okay, Jamie – that all went pretty well.  Tomorrow, you’re going to meet some city kids.  I hope Lancer don’t seem too dull when we get back.”

Jamie didn’t answer at first.  He swung his feet round and stood up.  “When we goin’ home, Pa?”

“Day after tomorrow, Jamie.  All right?”

“Yeah.”  Jamie yawned again.  “I ain’t sleepy now.”

“No?  How’s your teeth?”

“Better.  I’m hungry.”

“Well, let’s go get you some food then.  Dining room, watch out – here come the Lancer boys!”  And taking Jamie’s hand in his own, he led the way to the source of the good smells.


Next morning, Johnny was shaving when Jamie woke up. 

“How’re you feelin’, tiger?” Johnny asked, pausing to glance in the mirror at his bright-eyed son.  “You ready to meet some fancy city kids?”

Jamie nodded.  “My whole mouth feels better,” he said.  “Them ladies were real nice.”

“That they were, son.”

Johnny went back to scraping his chin.  He needed to look smart for his business meeting.  He was glad Jamie wouldn’t have to go too, though his son could be patient when necessary.  He’d had enough adult company for a while.


They had a good breakfast, then waited in the lobby together, Jamie trying to copy the way his father sat, with his feet crossed at the ankles and his hands held loosely on his knees but since the boy’s feet didn’t reach the ground all that happened was he nearly slipped off the seat.

“Quit that!” Johnny said. 

Jamie did, but started to swing his legs instead.

“You got ants in your pants?” 

Jamie looked at his father.  “How long now?” he asked.

“There’s the clock.  Now – what time is it?”

Jamie looked at the dial and started to figure.  “Nearly nine o’clock?”  he said hopefully.

“Yeah.  So not long now, all right?  What’s the matter with you, anyway?  You’ll have a good time.”

Jamie dropped his gaze but said nothing.

“I’ll be with you in a coupla hours, don’t you worry about it.  Just be good and mind your manners.”

“Do I have to go there on my own?” Jamie asked, frowning at the floor.


“Do I have to go there on my own?” Jamie said loudly, jumping off his seat and standing in front of his father, leaning against his knees. 

“It won’t be for long.  You’re a big boy now – you can do this.  Look – look here – there’s a whole family come to collect you!”

And there was, too, the lady from the first day with two children, a boy and a girl, who came boldly up to Jamie and had introduced themselves before Johnny could say anything.

“George!  Mary!  Take Jamie out to the carriage, both of you.”  She had everything organised in a moment and Jamie was gone with one glance over his shoulder.  Johnny had nodded at his son and mouthed his goodbye, so as not to embarrass his boy.

“Mr. Lancer!  Here’s my address.”  The woman handed him a smart, printed card.  “Please come along when you’re done.  There’ll be a light luncheon at one o’clock.  Will you able to join us?”

“I’ll try, ma’am.  Mr. Johnson has a way of spinnin’ out a meetin’ if he’s in the mood to talk.”  Johnny grinned.  “Ma’am, you know how grateful I am . . .”

“Oh – think nothing of it!  We’ll see you at or before one, then?”


At half past midday, Johnny was loosening his tie and unbuttoning his jacket.  He was half-asleep with fatigue, Mr. Johnson having questioned him on every aspect of the ranch for close on an hour and a half.  He thought back ruefully to his complaints of the previous week about the monotony of chores.  Even clearing streams seemed better than talking finances, and some of his more interesting days had started that way. 

The cab pulled up in front of a huge mansion and, as he stepped out onto the pavement he heard the sound of children from the garden.  His heart sank as he heard two boys shouting.  One was Jamie, and he was mad about something, and you didn’t want to tangle with Jamie when he was feeling like that.  He had to get to him and rein him in, quickly.

He set off up the front stairs, rang the bell and wondered if he shouldn’t just head straight for the garden before the shouting got any worse.

A manservant in a smart suit and gloves answered the door.  “Yes?” he said, looking down his nose at Johnny, who was suddenly wishing he’d kept his jacket buttoned.

“Mr. Lancer.  I was invited.  I think that’s my son I can hear.”

The man held open the door.  “Please come in, sir.  So you’re Master Jamie’s father?”

“Yes,” said Johnny, wondering why a manservant was saying anything beyond the usual formalities.  “Has he been good?”

“He’s been a surprise, sir.  Master George and Miss Mary – well, confidentially, sir, I don’t think they’ve ever met anyone like him!”  And, much to Johnny’s surprise, the man winked at him.  “Wait here, sir.  I’ll inform the lady of the house that you’ve arrived.”  The manservant walked away, slipping back into his severe, cool manner. 

Johnny looked around him.  The décor was light and fresh, cream and light blue, with displays of cups and saucers and plates on glass shelves.  Porcelain, he knew that, and he wondered where they had been made.  Delicate paintings of flowers and fruit lined the hallway.  The furniture was white and gold, all spindly wood and silk cushions.  He tried to remember every detail to tell Teresa when he got home.  She’d be making a bonfire of their old furniture when she heard about this decoration.

But he was itching to get to his son, too, though he heard no more shouting.  Maybe they’d got him calmed down.

A door at the end of the hallway opened and there was the lady of the house, pushing a strand of stray hair into place before hurrying towards him.

“Ah!  Do come through!  Please – into the garden.”

He hurried forward.  “Ma’am, I hope Jamie’s been good.  I heard him just now and he seemed to have forgotten his manners.”

“No, no, not at all.  It was George who forgot his.  It’s a lesson he’s going to remember, I think.”

He was led through into the garden.  Mary was on a swing and Jamie was pushing her.  George was sitting on the grass pressing an ice pack to his eye and looking more than a little sorry for himself.

“Jamie!” called Johnny, wincing at the scene.  “Come here, you little rascal!  What have you been up to?”

Jamie ran to his father, talking as he came.  “Ain’t it nice here, Pa!”  he called happily.  “Can we stay here tonight?  I don’t like that hotel!”

“Hold on.  No, we can’t stay here.  And I think some apologies are needed, aren’t they?  Jamie?  How could you let me down like this?”

Jamie looked up at his father and instantly burst into tears.  “It weren’t my fault!  I said sorry!”

The lady of the house stepped forward.  “Shall we go indoors, Mr. Lancer?  I think I can straighten this out.  George – you stop pulling that face and push your sister gently on the swing.  Maybe next time you’ll think twice before calling a visitor a liar.  Luncheon in fifteen minutes.”

Johnny grabbed Jamie’s hand and followed the sweep of the woman’s skirt back into the house.  They went into a parlour but he was too busy trying to control his temper to notice much about it.  He sat down, put Jamie in front of him and told him to stop crying.

“Save that for afterward, Jamie.  Be quiet.”  Jamie stopped crying and bit his bottom lip.  “Now. I want to hear from you what happened.  The truth, mind.”

Jamie frowned, scrunching up his face.  “George said,” he began, then swallowed hard.  “George said the ranch wasn’t big like I said it was.  I told him, Pa!” he said, looking his father in the eye.  “I told him it was hundreds of thousands of acres, just like Grandpa says it is.  But George said. . . “

“Jamie?  You said it was how big?”  Johnny suppressed a sudden urge to grin.

“Hundreds of thousands of acres.  It’s what Grandpa says every time he tells the story of how you and Uncle Scott first came to the ranch, remember?  Just before the bit about how you . . .”

“Yeah, Jamie, I remember,” Johnny said hastily, before any more of Grandpa’s story became public knowledge.  “But it’s a hundred thousand acres.  Not hundreds of thousands.”

“Is that different?” Jamie asked, blinking back the tears.  “I always thought it was . . .”

“Yes, Jamie.  It’s not nearly as much.  But how did you get round to blacking his eye?” 

Johnny glanced at his hostess.  Her expression was reassuring – she was clearly trying not to laugh. 

“He called me a liar.  Said it right to my face.  I told him to quit it but he wouldn’t.   I offered to fight him but he said he was in the right and I was to quit lying.”

“Oh, Jamie.  You had no call to go hitting him.” 

Jamie looked down at his feet.

“Er – Mr. Lancer.  Excuse me.  But I believe I can say that Jamie was provoked, and that George threw the first punch, for which he has been soundly reprimanded.  His father will speak to him tonight, too.  It was just that George missed but Jamie didn’t.”

Johnny grasped his son by the shoulders.  “Look at me, Jamie.  So you were defending yourself?”

Jamie nodded but wouldn’t look at his father, who was searching desperately for the right words to say.

“Well,” he managed, “well . . . All right then.  So long as you apologised and you didn’t start it.  But I think we’ll be teaching you about them bigger numbers when we get you home.” 

Jamie looked up at last, and as soon as he saw his father’s face, smiled shakily.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.  “I’m really sorry, Pa.  I didn’t know about them hundreds of acres.  I thought I had it right.”

Johnny hugged his boy and looked at his hostess.  “I’m real sorry we’ve caused you all this trouble.  I’ll take him back to the hotel.”

“You’ll do no such thing.  There’s food in the dining room and, if you agree, I can send Mellors for your bags.  You could stay here tonight, meet my husband and perhaps – perhaps we can persuade you to part with one more of your stories?”

Johnny thought for a moment.  It was plain rude to refuse and he had no doubt it would be far more agreeable to stay with this family, despite the unfortunate start, than in the noisy hotel. 

“Thank you, Ma’am.  I believe we’ll take you up on your offer.  So long as you’ll let me know if my son gets to bothering anyone again.”

So the crisis was resolved, and Johnny pushed Jamie ahead of him into the dining room.  There the two boys met and, under parental supervision, shook hands.  Before long, George was showing off his black eye to Jamie and Jamie was explaining everything he knew about cows to George. 

The food was light but plentiful and Johnny ate well, talking quietly to Mary about her pet dog, Patch, and then to his hostess about Lancer.  It was a good evening, and he enjoyed himself, but when he went to bed he was glad that tomorrow he would be going home.


The journey home was uneventful.  Jamie was alternately very quiet and chattering on about everything he had seen.  They discussed what should go in Jamie’s letter of thanks and decided Uncle Scott should supervise that task.  Grandpa would help him with his figures and Johnny would take him on some long rides round the ranch so that he could get an idea what a hundred thousand acres looked like. 

As the landscape gradually became more familiar, Johnny held a sleeping Jamie in his arms and reflected on his San Francisco trip.  It had been a good visit.  He had enjoyed the chance to talk freely to such an appreciative audience and it had given him a chance to think over the better things that had happened, without a hint of criticism. 

Maybe, one day, he’d have a go at writing his own history.  Maybe Scott could help him with it.  It was a history that was worth writing, with the people he had met and worked with.  And it was a history worth passing on to the next generation but he would need to be careful with that.  Very careful. Especially when his son had a knack of getting small details wrong, with large consequences.

He held on to Jamie and looked forward to a brighter future.

Archived August 2022


Thank you for reading! The authors listed on this site spend many hours writing stories for your enjoyment, and their only reward is the feedback you leave. So please take a moment to leave a comment.  Even the simplest ‘I liked this!” can make all the difference to an author and encourage them to keep writing and posting their stories here.  You can comment in the ‘reply’ box below or email Cat directly.



6 thoughts on “Jamie and the Ladies by Cat

  1. I’m going to be the first to tell you how much I enjoyed this story. Thank you for taking the time to write it and for posting it.


  2. I always enjoy your Jamie stories. Looking forward to reading your Boston story regarding Johnny’s blindness.


    1. Thanks for your kind comment! It’s on the list and your comment spurs me on to sort out a problematic chapter!


  3. I love this story and series so much. Johnny’s history would more than entertain the ladies and be a best seller. Thank you so much for sharing your talent with us.


  4. I really enjoyed reading this story. It was a pleasant surprise. Father and son bonding really really nice. Thank you for sharing your gift as a writer and keeping Lancer land alive. JML always ♥️


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