━━━━─── • ───━━━━

FANCY BRASS BUTTONS

━━━━─── • ───━━━━

The carriage interior exuded an air of refined comfort. Luxurious dark wood panels embraced the walls, their polished sheen reflecting fleeting glimpses of sunlight that danced through intricately carved frames. The seats of sumptuous black leather had softened with age. Modestly sized windows proudly displayed delicate carvings. Outside, the world was a blur of greenery and shadows, the rhythmic lumbering of the Telmatosaurus drawing the carriage harmonising with the occasional rustling of leaves. Amidst this mobile haven of elegance and charm, time seemed to unfold at its own leisurely pace, unfazed by the speed of the road or the pressing matters that awaited its occupants.

Relieved muscles sunk into the plush seat, Randall Thompson's grip tightened on the reassuring weight of his wooden cane across his lap, its polished surface a stark contrast to the wild ride that had brought him here. The Telmatosaurus ahead trotted along the path, its movements more like a giant metronome than a beast. Its steady pace helped to soothe his frayed nerves after the harrowing journey. Escaping the Gorgosaurus' teeth had been a miracle, but he couldn't shake the mental image of a certain irate dinosaur wrangler vowing vengeance.

Though relieved to have escaped from Texas scrub to the undulating beauty of Massachusetts, Randall knew the challenges ahead were as varied as the terrain. His sanctuary dream beckoned like a distant oasis, a place where humans would understand these dinosaur denizens past their working roles and profit. A safe home for these endangered beasts of burden in need of refuge. But the path was fraught with more than just thorny bushes.

Randall's mind could find no easy answers for now, and so he surrendered to the gentle rocking of the carriage, watching the rolling Massachusetts countryside pass by the small windows as he neared home at last.

At intervals, Randall's cane would give the carriage roof two authoritative thumps, orchestrating a temporary halt. His lanky frame would then unfold itself from the vehicle with a series of creaking joints and stifled groans. He shuffled stiffly, making a beeline to the rear of the wagon that trailed behind. His nerves were still on edge as he checked the cage containing the adolescent Gorgosaurus.

Randall's fingers moved with precision as he examined the cage imprisoning the young dinosaur. He eyed the wooden slats with a wary respect, inspected each bar and bolt closely, tightening anything that seemed loose. His grip on the bars wasn't just about securing the specimen; it was also about soothing his own frayed nerves. After all, no one wanted to witness a showdown between a scholarly Englishman and a testy teenage predator armed with youthful fury.

The Gorgo fixed its beady eyes on him, emitting a series of discontented hisses and snorts. Randall felt a jolt of adrenaline, a dusty memory of the past solo expedition sending a chill down his spine. His knuckles whitened around his cane, which seemed to have transformed into a potential weapon in his grip. It was only after a good three rounds of verifying the cage's integrity and the ropes that incapacitated the creature that he could allow himself to uncurl his fingers.

With a curt nod, he'd withdraw back to the carriage, tapping his cane impatiently, setting the wheels in motion once more. The Telmatosaurus—one actually eager to get the job done—grunted and obliged with a lurch. While inside, Randall's leg engaged in a frenzied bounce and his eyes became a pair of searchlights sweeping the roadside, tracking every shadow, watching for the monsters of mishap that might lie in wait on this final stretch homeward.

The carriage glided through the Massachusetts countryside, a scene straight out of an idyllic storybook. Tenontosaurus families ambled leisurely, munching on ferns and cycads like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. With their relaxed demeanour and undeniably rotund figures, they paused their munching to give the passing carriage a casual once-over, seemingly unimpressed by the human spectacle. Muscles shifted beneath their leathery hides as they dipped their heads and resumed their foliage feast, leaving the carriage to continue its journey through this vista.

Yet, peace eluded Randall amidst this tranquil scene. His thoughts were a whirlwind of snapping jaws and prowling claws, a haunting reel of the Gorgosaurus, the serene country drive transforming into a nightmare. His gaze twitched nervously towards the rustling woods that flanked the dirt road, half-expecting the sudden emergence of Tanner Graves, a shotgun-toting spectre of Texan wrath. In the midst of this picturesque calm, Randall couldn't shake off the feeling that danger was just a heartbeat away. It was as if the whole world had slowed to this leisurely pace while Randall's thoughts raced on ahead, careening wildly into visions of everything that could possibly go wrong before he reached the estate gates.

As the carriage reached the hill's zenith, the estate unveiled itself in all its grandeur—the American manor house standing proud, flanked by steadfast barns. Eager to set foot on familiar ground, he urgently rapped the roof of the carriage with his cane.

The Telmatosaurus pulling the carriage let out a weary bellow as they rolled to a stop just inside the gates. Randall climbed down, his body sore from the journey. John, a hired watchman, hurried over.

"Good to have ya back, sir! Been awhile since I last seen ya. Though not quite expectin' ya in the middle of the night," he said.

Randall clasped the man's hand warmly. "It's good to be home, John. The venture in the Southern Americas proved profitable, nothing too precarious I assure you. Any trouble while I was away?"

"Quiet as a graveyard 'round here. Old Maggie's kept the Compies at bay." John motioned to the lone Coelophysis—natural with grassland green scales in comparison to Gabrielle's pair of melanistic oddities back in London—that dozed in the lawn without care.

"That's quite alright. I estimate it will be a couple of years before I again leave for home in London. Until then, my focus must remain on seeing the American enterprise through to completion and opening its doors to patrons; Once the sanctuary here is fully operational and generating the intended profits."

"You're tellin' me this? You're finally gonna spruce up this place instead of layin' around on them fancy English carpets?"

"I rather think so. Least to say, you now have the company of your employer at last. And perhaps a few more lively residents." Randall cast a quick glance over his shoulder, just in time to witness the wagon rolling past. Its exposed rear was a perfect recipe to jolt poor John in his uniform when both beheld a caged Gorgosaurus under the tarp.

"Say, sah, might I enquire 'bout this?"

"I have acquired a Gorgosaurus from The Texan Territories. A foolhardy undertaking, I daresay, to attempt it alone."

"Out there all by ya'self in the Western Frontiers? Bah! That's a fool's errand, given ya expertise, sah. What ever happened to 'strength in numbers'? You got no business tryin' to prove ya'self. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd be stomped or snatched by sharp jaws, if'n not the bad men."

"Rest assured, I live unharmed. See the Gorgo is secured in the cage for now. I require you and the others to rotate shifts keeping watch until we are able to move it to the sanctuary.

"Right away, sah." John said, heading toward the wagon.

Randall withdrew his pocket watch, its polished case gleaming like a showman's coin. The relentless journey had finally yielded to a moment of reprieve, and in that simple glance at the timepiece, he affirmed his safety. Yet he gripped his cane, knuckles whitening. This Gorgosaurus could tear people limb from limb, yet here it was, trapped within those bars thanks to Randall's quest to "save" the creature. He wondered, not for the first time, if he had done more harm than good.

Randall's mind raced, the weight of urgency pressing upon him. He knew he couldn't keep the Gorgosaurus here; the city's tolerance for a carnivore of its size was as thin as the tightrope they were walking, legality-wise. If he wanted to get away from it, they needed to ferry the dinosaur to the sanctuary before the watchful eyes of the law could pick up on them. He had been careful so far.

"John!" Randall called, "We travel at first light. See to it that the wagon is provisioned, the dinosaur secured, and the hadrosaurs rested before departure—we must get this dinosaur to the sanctuary as quickly as possible."

"Aye, but the dinosaur, sah..."

Randall gave a quick glance to the Gorgosaurus, all tied up and limp, but no less vengeful. "Keep it sedated with chloroform. There are bottles in the carriage should you need them."

"Aye, right away, sah." John hurried off, leaving Randall alone with the Gorgosaurus once more.

The beast let out a low hiss, seeming to sense that its time here would be brief. Randall tightened his grip on the cane. First light couldn't come soon enough. He just prayed there would be no trouble on the road.

Randall's steps echoed through the spacious entrance of his manor house, the grandeur of its halls a soothing balm for his weary form. Yet, amid the familiarity, doubt lingered like a shadow. This home, a far cry from the grace of his London residence. It was a secondary abode, a reluctant inheritance.

Settling into a chair by the crackling fire, Randall's mind drifted to Gabrielle herself. The gleam in her eyes as she discussed the sanctuary's future, her commitment to the most daunting tasks. Her fervour emboldened his own, even if it had led him to moments of recklessness and—dare he say—nearly caused him his death. As he gazed into the flames, he mused on the delicate balance between caution and conviction.

He reached for his pipe, packing the bowl thoughtfully. The risks are undeniable and palpable. Yet, equally undeniable was the purpose, the goodness that his business sought to bring into the world. But it was for Gabrielle that he found himself willing to court danger again and again. The real quandary lay not in the challenges ahead but in measuring the extent of their commitment, the price he was willing to pay. With each flicker of the match, he inhaled resolve as much as tobacco. Stopping now was not an option.

Randall lit his pipe, allowing the familiar comforts to ease his weary spirit. There would be time enough for doubts tomorrow, once they had delivered this difficult charge safely to the sanctuary.

Randall's heavy lids began to droop as the comforting warmth of the fire and the pipe's rich aroma relaxed his tense muscles. His head nodded forward then jerked back up before slowly sinking down again.

The kitchen staff found him like that half an hour later, slumped in the chair with his pipe still clutched in hand. They draped a blanket over his shoulders and slipped the pipe from his fingers, grinding out the embers before leaving him to rest.

Then when he woke, he jolted up, disoriented and drenched in sweat. The room had slipped into darkness, the fire now reduced to flickering embers. He wiped his eyes wearily, struggling to his feet, his hand finding the reassuring grip of his cane. The mantel clock's chime resounded, striking two, reminding him of his obligations.

Randall looked toward the gates where the wagon stood. His thoughts raced through the possibilities of turmoil. The restless adolescent Gorgosaurus confined within its cage, observed dutifully by John and the other hired watchmen.

"I have changed my mind, John! We leave now!" Randall sighed deeply as called out, then muttered to himself, "The sooner we secure the dinosaur in its paddock, the better my nerves."

Randall moved swiftly through the manor's corridors, his purposeful strides echoing in the hushed air. His keen gaze swept over the rooms, hoping to find a clue about Gabrielle's whereabouts. Her chamber was empty, a pristine silence that mirrored her absence. He had assumed she was home and yet the bed lay undisturbed, still neatly made up. He chided himself for even forgetting to spare a thought for her. His long strides carried him from room to room, inquiring with the few awake staff if they had seen their mistress return yet.

But each time he received the same regretful reply—No, Miss Hopewell has not yet come home since this morning.

A twinge of worry tugged at Randall's brow as he stepped out into the courtyard where John was overseeing preparations for their journey.

"Pardon me, John," Randall said, "have you by chance received word if Gabrielle would be returning today?"

John shook his head. "Can't say I've heard from Miss Hopewell since this morn'. The mistress had gone to the post office with Abbot to inquire about a package from Mr. Jeremy Shaw."

Randall's jaw clenched as worry knotted his brow. Gabrielle's absence was unsettling. Her spritely cheers and loud demeanours meant her absence was concerning.

"Very well," Randall said with a sigh, "Proceed with your duties."

"Aye, sah."

Randall watched as John and the other hands set about. His gaze drifted to the manor towering above. Every window seemed to stare back at him, empty. There was no answer that was forthcoming, save for the uneasy stirring of premonition within his stomach.

Then as if on cue, a familiar striped steed appeared on the estate's horizon, trotting leisurely along the path. The horse's presence was expected, but the rider who graced its back startled him.

Randall's gaze sharpened like a hawk's as the approaching riders solidified into view. There was Gabrielle, perched side-saddle in her usual unaffected elegance, her normally kind hands caught in a grip around the waist of none other than the irksome figure of Tanner Graves. The Texan rogue displayed a grin so self-satisfied, all while his unruly hair seemed to conspire with the wind in an attempt to escape his scalp. The message was clear—trouble had ridden into town, and it was perched right in front of him, wearing a hat with the audacity to be tipped jauntily.

"Well, howdy there, sleepy specs!" Tanner called out jovially, "Fancy meetin' you here! Me and little Missy Gabrielle here were just out for a ride when she took a shine to mah horse!"

Gabrielle beamed, wholly unaware of the animosity between the two men. "Isn't she just the finest mare you've ever seen, Randall? Look how perfectly structured her muscles are!"

Randall's knuckles whitened around his cane, a storm of irritation brewing within him at the sight of this audacious varmint lurking around Gabrielle. Yet, with an effort that could rival a monk's vow of silence, he maintained his veneer of civility, his thoughts volleying between giving her a stern lecture and outright branding the late night escapade as foolhardy.

"You're abroad rather late, my dear. I see you've made... an interesting new acquaintance." His stern gaze shifted to Tanner as he neared the pair. "My men will be pleased to assist you in dismounting, sir, and show you the way back to the road."

Tanner's smile melted into a scowl. "Now see here-"

"John!" Randall called loudly, cutting Tanner off. "Send your men to remove this trespasser from my sight."

John and the other hands scuttled over, eyeing the dinosaur wrangler with a mix of suspicion and curiosity before the lot forced the Texan off.

Tanner angrily dismounted, glaring daggers at the Englishman. "Randall, ya damn shoe lickin' coward! Ya owe me!"

Randall sighed and turned to Gabielle. "My dear, we do need to have a chat..."

"Oh, bother none of it. I do prefer his company." She dismissed Randall's watchdog with a wave of her hand, snatching the reins from the men and guiding Tanner's horse towards the manor.

"Gabrielle," Randall began firmly. "This man is a poacher and a bushwhacker, he is not welcome on my property."

Gabrielle shot Randall an annoyed look. "Tanner has been a perfect gentleman thus far and I have perfect reasons to trust him, unlike your rudeness just now."

Tanner flashed Randall a cocky grin. "Now ain't that the truth. I's jus' showin' this little lady a good time."

Randall's jaw clenched. "You followed me here after threatening me at gunpoint."

Tanner held up his hands in mock innocence. "I dunno what y'all talkin' 'bout. I's jus' mindin' my own business when this purdy lil' filly come ridin' up wantin' some company."

Gabrielle handed Tanner's reins to him then—to all of Randall's dismay—linked her arm around Tanner's elbow. "Enough of this nonsense. Tanner is my guest and he shall remain so."

Randall's eyes narrowed. "My dear, please, I must protest. This man is a criminal!"

"I am sure I can make my own decisions about whom I invite into my home. If you cannot greet my guests civilly then you may return to your study."

Tanner flashed an impish grin at Randall over Gabrielle's shoulder as they strolled into the manor house, as if sharing an inside joke about the day's wild escapades that only they were in on.

Randall's frustration was palpable, his teeth grinding in a silent protest. Yet, he recognized the futility of attempting to sway Gabrielle once her determination was set. Resigned, he trailed along, his gaze never straying far from the Texan interloper who had now breached the confines of his estate.

As they rounded the wagon, Gabrielle's gaze fixed on the caged Gorgosaurus and shock seized her. She turned to Randall, confusion reflecting in her eyes, a silent accusation hanging between them. "Randall, did you do this? After all that lecturing you did about the dangers of procuring large carnivores, you went and did this?"

"He was on a solo adventure, too. Out on his own and all," Tanner added with a smug grin.

"Quiet, you!" Randall chided the other man before he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, his own frustrations rising to the surface. "Gabrielle, my dear, I assure you I had the sanctuary's best interests at heart. I thought another specimen would please you."

Gabrielle's expression hardened. "Please me? You went on an expedition and acted on your own judgments rather than remaining true to your word. Acquiring a large carnivore when you advised me time and time again that we shouldn't house a dangerous dinosaur."

Randall gripped his cane tightly. "I took a calculated risk to bring back something of value and the potential paid off. That's more than can be said for your impulsive behaviour with this-"

"Hey now!" Tanner cut in. "This here Gorgo's my catch, till ya stole it after I saved yer skin from them other two meat-snappers."

Gabrielle's eyes widened. "Is this true?"

Randall flushed furiously. "Of course I did not steal anything! Can we please move on?"

"Is this true?" she repeated more firmly.

"...Yes."

Gabrielle held up a hand, hurt swirling in her eyes. "I can not listen to any more of your hypocrisy, Randall. Going behind my back, lecturing me while engaging in the very behaviour you condemn, stealing from someone's work."

She turned and walked away, her back a portrait of wounded pride. Randall hesitated, making a step toward her then stopped as he battled his own frustration. His eyes flickered to Tanner, whose impish grin only heightened Randall's vexation. An exasperated sigh escaped him as he let Gabrielle's retreating figure be swallowed by the manor.

Tanner's Texan charm slithered forth, wrapping around Gabrielle like a lazy river bend. While her caution remained steadfast, the newcomer's allure was undeniable. His boldness stood in stark contrast to Randall's measured reserve, casting a lively spark into the air that even her scepticism couldn't fully extinguish.

Randall's gut screamed at him to trudge over and yank Gabrielle from the clutches of this scoundrel, to knock some sense into her, if possible. However, he managed to keep his boots planted, reminding himself of the ruckus he'd set off with his own unplanned escapades—as though the cowboy before him wasn't already a walking testament to impulsiveness. If he aimed to patch up his relationship with Gabrielle, he better not barge in like a bull in a china shop.

His patience waned as Tanner ventured through the manor grounds, marvelling at every mundane feature as if they were undiscovered treasures. The Texan's folksy charm was like a river that meandered its way toward Gabrielle's heart, her defences softened by his exuberance.

Before long, the aged servant appeared, a hint of secret amusement lurking in his eyes. Randall pondered, half-expecting even the old man's voice to echo with conspiratorial mirth. It had slipped his notice when the servant had returned, but Randall's mouth wasted no time in venting his annoyance, his grumbles flowing like a leaky faucet.

"Abbot, you have performed your duties admirably, yet you have no quarrel with this outcome?"

"I'd never let anyone snatch joy from Miss Hopewell. I gave that scoundrel a good scolding, but I'm not giving up on him yet. As much as I would like to send him falling to his arse, I see an ounce of a good man in him, somewhere."

"I take it you've met him? When? What transpired? Did he brandish a shotgun on you?"

Abbot chuckled, "Did he on you? Ease yourself now, Master Randall, the man is capable of correcting, I think."

Randall could only groan in annoyance. "I beg to differ. Surely you can not be proposing to allow a stray dog onto my property or anywhere near it."

"Master Randall, I am not amused by Mr. Graves' presence either. Yet I found him to be a committed man." Abbot looked on, and Randall followed his gaze to see how comfortable Gabrielle appeared with Tanner. "She had her own dealings with him, details of which I am not privy to. Understand that she is her own woman. Her youthful exuberance has served her well thus far."

"Her 'youthful exuberance' is what makes her reckless. She's too innocent, blinded by her stubborn childishness. She's at the mercy of that man the longer she undermines my authority."

"And whose fault is it to secure her in these walls much like the dinosaurs you thought to safekeep? You have seen the raptors throw themselves at the fence. You can not expect her not to do the same."

"Nonsense. I've granted her all the liberties a woman could ask for. Why does she insist on consorting with that ne'er-do-well?"

"Perhaps a topic for another time, Master Randall."

"Is that all?"

"What, did you expect a whole hour's lecture from an old man? It's past my bedtime and I'm feeling rather achy. I would rather fall over than talk any more at the moment."

"Very well, see to it that Mr. Graves' horse is taken care of and inform John to prepare by dawn instead of this instant."

"Prepare what?"

"Transport." Randall nodded toward the wagon. "I had been rather hasty and indecisive. With Graves here, my focus is anywhere but that dinosaur at the moment."

"As if I had not gone through enough already. But, consider it done, Master Randall. Have a restful night, and welcome back."

Soon enough, Randall returned into the manor to find Tanner weaving a tapestry of compliments around the estate's splendours, his words as smooth as honey but about as sincere as a snake oil peddler's promises. While Randall's jaw tightened at the flattery, he was well aware that Tanner's exaggerated admiration for the "quaint charm" and "unpretentious grandeur" of the estate was nothing more than a well-practised ploy to impress Gabrielle. Every ounce of his being itched to stride over and show the cowboy-hunter-dino-whatever to the door, politeness be damned.

But Randall settled for icy glares, his brows almost reaching his hairline as Tanner gestured theatrically at a seemingly insignificant weathervane, coaxing a reluctant yet amused smile from Gabrielle. Tanner's smug grins were like daggers to Randall's proper sensibilities, each one twisting a bit more under his skin, while the Texan seemed to revel in poking the Englishman's buttoned-up demeanour with unreserved delight.

Finally, Tanner laughed jovially and said, "Well, lil' spitfire, this here place sure is a sight to behold! But a country boy like myself feels a might outta place amongst all this high-falutin' elegance."

Gabrielle began to respond, but Randall cut in, voice clipped. "Even if the grounds no longer please you, Mr. Graves, then by all means leave them."

"Aw, now don't be like that." Tanner laughed, then looked at Gabrielle expectantly. "Ain't ya goin' to let a weary traveller stay the night? I got no place to lay my head and no one to look after my mare neither."

Gabrielle was about to speak again, her kind heart tempting her to show compassion. But Randall interrupted once more, "My dear, I understand that you feel sorry for him, but he is not to be trusted. This man is a criminal and a threat to your safety. I will not allow him to stay the night."

Tanner flashed Randall an annoyed look. "Damn sakes, man, quit interruptin' me like some Carno!" He turned back to Gabrielle, taking her hand gently. "All I ask is a warm meal and bed for the night. I promise to cause no trouble."

Gabrielle glanced over at Randall, and Randall could only hope to see the worry and distrust in his eyes. Yet something in Tanner's manner, and in his simple request, rang true. She squeezed his hand lightly. "Very well, Tanner. You may stay the night."

"Gabrielle!" Randall protested, but she held up a hand to silence him.

"Thank you kindly, miss." Tanner kissed Gabrielle's hand and flashing Randall a triumphant grin, causing him to scowl.

"You are much welcome. It was the least I can do for our little adventure tonight. As much as I would prefer to chat, I'm afraid I'm not quite awake as I was. Have a lovely night, Tanner." Gabrielle withdrew her hand from Tanner's grip, her touch a courteous dismissal. With a graceful pivot, she retraced her steps and disappeared around the corner of a hallway toward a private chamber, leaving in her wake Randall and Tanner, who exchanged glares that could have ignited a forest fire.

With a sigh that could rival the world's most melodramatic opera, Randall spoke flatly, "Abbot will show your mare to the stables."

"What about mah room?" Tanner challenged.

Randall replied firmly. "I shall escort you myself. I intend to keep a close eye on you while you are here."

Tanner's expression darkened, shadowing the room as he begrudgingly trailed Randall into the house. With Gabrielle's cheerful chatter behind them, Randall rounded on the dinosaur wrangler like a cat cornering a mouse.

"Let us be perfectly clear," he tersely spoke, "You will not harm a hair on Gabrielle's head nor breathe a word of dishonesty to her under my roof. Is that understood?"

Tanner sneered. "Or what, ya gonna put me in my place? You don't tell me what t'do, sleepy specs. Ya owe me money for savin' your hide and catchin' that there Gorgo. I aim to collect while I'm here."

"I will brook no nonsense. You will sooner find yourself spending the night at the city jailhouse if you do not tread carefully."

Tanner, brimming with audacity, couldn't resist an eye roll as he closed the gap, locking eyes with Randall in a rivalling bull. "Been there, done that. Just tonight, actually! Now listen up. I'm the one who saved yer neck from them Gorgos, and now I'm callin' mah marker. You're gonna pay up what ya owe me, else Gabbrielle's gonna hear a might unpleasant story about how ya really got that there dino."

"I owe you no thanks, you blackguard. The dinosaur was harmed and taken in violation of the law, and I rescued it from your dastardly clutches."

"Why I oughta slap that fancy accent right outta yer mouth!"

Randall's gaze swept over the Texan with an air of exaggerated appraisal, as if he were pondering a fine piece of livestock up for auction. "I would be surprised if anyone of your limited abilities could even accomplish such a Herculean task."

"I ain't takin' no guff from ya! Ya did the same thing. That makes you a right darn poacher as I am. So don't try to lecture me about right and wrong when it comes to business."

"I am a conservationist and businessman. My profit is far less selfish than yours, Mr. Graves. I seek to restore them to their vitality and preserve their natural heritage. Your 'business', on the other hand, is nothing more than a desperado attempt to earn scraps; selling their flesh and bones without regard."

"That's just how ya say ya deal dinosaurs, in a fancy way. I ain't no sissy English lord, I get my dinos like a real man."

Randall glared coldly. "I would rather be a 'sissy English lord' than an uneducated, uncouth bumpkin such as you."

Tanner threw up his hands. "The heck do I know what 'uncouth bumpkin' even means! Alls I know is I'm takin' my rightful pay, one way or another!"

Randall jabbed his cane sharply into Tanner's chest. "The only thing you will be taking from my estate is a swift kicking, you ignorant, inbred ruffian!"

Tanner tensed, slapping away Randall's cane. "You take that back!"

Just as the tension crackled in the air, Abbot's voice slashed through like a whip, halting their impending clash. "Enough, both of you! Mr. Graves, Miss Hopewell has granted you lodging under the assumption you were a gentleman. Do not betray that trust she so naively gives to every spritely soul. And you, Master Randall. Although you are my charge and with power to rot me, I expected better."

Both men looked properly chastened under Abbot's stern gaze, mumbling apologies. He nodded curtly. "I want no further conflict under this roof, is that clear?"

"Crystal." mumbled Tanner.

"Yes, sir." said Randall grimly.

Abbot eyed them both a moment longer. "Good. Now go see to your respective chambers and cool your tempers. I'll have no more of this foolishness." And with that, he departed, leaving the two men to sulk in shamed silence before firing up again.

Tanner jabbed a finger into Randall's chest. "Ya might have all the fancy words and manners, but I still got the skills to woo any purdy filly I want. So enjoy watchin' me sweep the lil' filly off 'er feet while you go polish yer fancy brass buttons."

"My dear fellow, I fear Gabrielle prefers gentle stallions to ornery donkeys such as yourself."

"Why you pompous, silk-wearin', son of a bitch. Least I don't prance around like I got a broomstick up my ass!"

Randall cut in smoothly. "Careful, you're treading a fine line with that eloquent tongue of yours. You wouldn't want to give the lady the wrong impression."

Tanner's eyes sparked with irritation, yet he bit back his tongue. Randall could practically hear the cogs of realisation churning in Tanner's mind that any crass remarks might undermine his designs with Gabrielle.

Randall saw the dinosaur hunter wrestle with his temper and couldn't help twisting the knife a little. "Once you have sufficiently mastered proper dining etiquette, perhaps I will allow you to join her table. In the meantime, I believe they are serving swill in the servant's quarters."

"We'll just see who Miss Gabrielle prefers in the end—silk shirts or leather chaps! Soon enough, I'm gonna rob this place blind." He shot Randall one last dirty look and stomped off.

With a satisfied tug on his lapels, Randall savoured the aftertaste of the final shot, a scuffle of civility amidst the uncivilised. The clash with the ruffian had rattled his poise. Yet, he understood that Tanner's wild ways might be his own undoing in matters of Gabrielle's heart. For now, tact remained Randall's weapon of choice against the likes of the unruly cowboy. Some skirmishes, he mused, were better fought with quips than shotguns, and this time Randall's barbs had drawn blood.