"I nodded."Must be awful," she said. "I like swiving, but I sure wouldn't..." She stopped and looked at me, hand to her mouth.I smiled."Did I say that?" she said and laughed, tapping her heels on the floorboards."You miss him?" I said.She shook her head and then nodded. "He did me proper, he did, most every night. I could hardly sleep las' night, needed it I guess."I held my peace, biting off a chew of tobacco from my twist, adjusting my britches a bit while I reminded myself that she was only sixteen, and she was married."Right back in there, that's where we..." she said, turning, pointing into the wagon and grinning at me. "Somebody's coming," she said.A Continental cavalryman reined in beside us, saluted casually, asked the lady's name and then handed her a sealed letter."Them two bodies back yonder yours?" he asked.I nodded. He smiled, turned his horse about and left, heading back the way he had come."It's from my husband," the girl said, "I know his name, his hand." She pointed. Renoirs landscapes were peaceful while the women in his paintings seemed very erotic. They were so different from some of the puritanical women depicted by other artists. She walked by the sculpture of Zephyr Dancing with Flora. Was it just her eyes or was the marble actually swaying a bit? Jaleesha smiled and kept walking. She needed to see one more piece before starting her shift. Her favorite piece in the American Art collection was a small bronze named The Freedman. It depicted an African slave, naked except for a cloth around his waist, with only one manacle on his left wrist. He appeared to be wary of what freedom would bring. Jaleesha longed to touch his muscled body. She wanted to ease the frown on his face. This was her history. Just after ten oclock that night, Jaleesha was making her rounds through the second floor. She never lingered for more than a few seconds. Her job was to make sure everything was undisturbed and secure. Unsure as to what drew her attention to the.
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