“Melanie and Daniel 3”

Chapter One

‘The Times they are a changing, sonny Jim.’
‘Sure old fella,’ responded Daniel, patting the cowboy on the back and helping him up on his horse. ‘Now you be careful. Really, we shouldn’t be letting you ride home back to the ranch.’
‘Don’t worry about me, Danel. This old codger has seen a thing or two in his time. It’ll take more than a nasty rattlesnake or a packfull of injuns to throw me off.’
Daniel smiled. ‘Off you go then,’ he said, patting the horse on the back.

Rags Maloney, the perpetually aged looking cowboy, carefully meandered out of the homestead, after a night of drinking, and steadily embarked on the trail back to his nearby ranch. Rags, really, was as ageless as any other resident of heaven, but
preferred the older look, and had prayed for a grey façade to suit his temperament. But that was not that uncommon – the ones who chose age and wisdom. Suited some personalities, apparently, or so he had been led to believe.

He watched after him as he rode down the way some, till he turned at a section and was lost from sight. Daniel, knowing he would likely feel a bit hungover in the morning, despite only drinking 3 beers, looked up at the stars. What a night. Partying
with Rags, dancing with Melanie, life on the range. Could he ever want it any other way now?



17 years had passed since they had returned to heaven after a sojourn on earth, in human form once again. And, while it had been memorable in many ways, and marrying Melanie without knowledge of their prior life once again had been truly worth living
for, Daniel was now over it. He didn’t want it any more. He didn’t need it any more. The earth life. That was over with for him. He wouldn’t put in any more requests for latter visitations.

He turned, made his way back inside, and decided, against his better wisdom, he might have that fourth.

* * * * *

The album ‘Beautiful Intentions’ was playing in the background, and Daniel had decided against the fourth beer, instead sipping on some freshly squeezed orange juice Melanie had just made for him.
‘You sure about playing the CD?’ he asked her.
‘What? Occasionally. Wasn’t that our agreement. Every once in a while a little bit of electricity,’ responded Melanie.
‘Yeh. Yeh, it was. Sure. Well, how about some TV. It has been a few centuries now. I wouldn’t mind catching up on some news.’
‘Sure,’ she replied.

Daniel sat there, feeling better with the bottle of orange juice she had now opened, enjoying the cool of the night in this western world, watching the box for the first time in ages, seeing things, in truth, really hadn’t changed that much. After a
while he clicked on the PC, something he hadn’t touched for just as long, clicked on his bank account, surmised things were about what they should be, checked the current bestseller chart and found ‘Morning Stars’ still at number one, from were it
never seemed to budge anymore, and reckoned he likely had a heck of a lot of new fans as usual, and should think about responding somewhat to his gargantuan backlog of emails from interested persons. But perhaps tomorrow. Something to do for a while.

Melanie came over and sat down next to him, poured out a glass of orange juice, and they sat there, in their ‘Rainbow Ranch’ as they liked to occasionally call it, in a heavenly mid west American state, with coyotes out there, jack rabbits doing
their nocturnal duties, and even some authentic native injuns, who still got a kick out of the old ways. It was bliss.


Chapter Two

Daniel awoke. It was the early morning, and the sun of heaven was rising in the east, the cockerels greeting the day, and Melanie in the kitchen, frying eggs and bacon by the smell of it, whistling a little tune to herself. She must have stoked the
fire up, else the electricity was continuing for a while longer.

He sat up on the bed, and did feel a slight hangover, but it wasn’t too bad. The orange juice had had a counter-effect, and he was ok. He sat there for a while, his thoughts settling on what to do today. The fencing had been finished up with Rags
yesterday, and the cattle would all be settled into their new grazing grounds. The chook shed had been fixed the week before, and was fine. The sheep had been moved 2 days ago to their new feeding ground, which should suffice for a while and, as much
as he could think of things he could possibly do, at the moment he really had a few days to a week or so to do, really, not much. Of course, the farming life, with the eternally good demand they got for beef and lamb in heaven, and the fact that Daniel
and Melanie were now experts in the organic meats scene, having researched it a long while ago with their current dream in mind, meant he didn’t really need to rely on his income from his books or her income from her CDs and live shows and other
associated products. But, naturally, they would return to the real world, as they often put it, eventually, after their long held cowboy and cowgirl fantasies had been fully enough realized. But, as he had already made his mind up on the issue, they
would return here, to Rainbow Ranch as they sometimes called it, again and again in the future, to escape the beast of modern society, and live in yesteryear, in simpler ways, in simpler times, entertaining Rags and his posse, and being just plain old
good honest folk.

He looked out to the east, smiled as the sun began its trek to the west, and looked over at Melanie. She was nearly finished with her frying, and he was hungry too. He got up, stretched, and went over to kiss his wife good morning, and enjoy a hearty
breakfast.

* * * * *

‘I’m not such an innocent girl. You should know that.’
Daniel said nothing. Victoria was quite skimpily dressed and, with Melanie at the general store in town, Victoria seemed to have taken advantage of the situation.
‘I’m a married man,’ said Daniel carefully.
‘Well, at the moment, I am Miss Adams. David hasn’t been around for a while. Off with some of his mistresses.’
‘But you’re still married to him, aren’t you, though? I mean, you guys never divorce.’
She kept silent, and then decided to confess. ‘Ok, if you must know, for legal purposes with the courts, we are not technically married. We have a certificate of ‘Loving Friendship’ registered, which means we can live together, cohabit and have a
full love life, if you know what I mean, and even children, which would necessitate a marriage. But you know the liberties of a ‘LF’ certificate, don’t you.’
Daniel nodded. ‘You can sleep around, if you want.’
‘So you would not be sleeping with a married woman, which is illegal, as you know.’
He said nothing as he looked at her. Melanie would be extremely jealous and, while he expected she wouldn’t know and trusted him, there is a good chance she also knew exactly what Victoria was after as well, with her showing up that lunch-time.

He looked at her in her extremely short denim shorts, her red bra-bikini, and nothing else, and down below his mast stood at attention.

She softly came over, put her hand on his crotch and kissed him on the mouth. That was too much. He took her into the bedroom, quickly pulled down her shorts, and thrust his tongue onto her moist womanhood. Shortly she was moaning, and then, unable to
hold back, he pulled off his pants, and thrust into her, soon both of them climaxing at the same time.

‘God,’ she said. ‘I needed that from you, you know. You have been on my mind for so long.’ He was still panting next to her, having had one of his biggest orgasms in years, and nodded. ‘You were amazing,’ he said.
‘Oh, I think you did all the work. Let’s do this tomorrow, and then I will get. So Melanie has no cause for jealousy.’
He didn’t object. After all, the exhilaration had been intense.

When Melanie got home from the store, the two of them seemed normal enough, engaged in a friendly game of chess, chatting politely, drinking wine. She suspected nothing, initially but, going into the bedroom, she sensed something. Something not quite
right. She came back out, looked at the two of them, and swore ‘bastard’ under her breath. But she didn’t bring up the issue any more than that. He wouldn’t be too stupid in the end – she knew him well enough by now.


Chapter Three

Crack Jiminty was a regular sort of outlaw. If outlaw is what you could call him. Oh, in heaven, if you were lawless, the punishments could indeed be quite severe, in terms of jail sentences. Actual exile from heaven could occur, but you practically
had to kill someone before you would qualify. Those who suffered such murders had their spirits taken to a care facility in one of the ‘Higher Heaven’s’ as they were known as, before eventually being returned to heaven after the shock of death had
again been dealt with. But, you wouldn’t have to worry about your murderer again as, technically, the penalty was time, first, in purgatory, and then permanent exile to a differing spiritual plane, also tentatively titled a heaven of sorts, but
reserved for those who had transgressed, but later shown repentance in purgatory and worthiness of heaven. ‘Bad boy’s’ heaven, in other words, were the laws, actually, were a degree more lenient.

Crack Jiminty knew, in his heart, that he was probably the kind of child of God who would end up in such a heaven. It was in him – some fowl deed or another, and he sensed it in his dreams, in his spirit, in the destiny God had planned for him. And
that, in truth, his dark deeds were unavoidable.

Crack dealt drugs, ironically, which was illegal in most nations of heaven, but not opposed too greatly. If people wanted to do drugs, Gabriel was of a mind that he wouldn’t care so much. Their life was in their own hands, ultimately, and people had
to learn to be responsible for themselves eventually anyway.

Yet, after a long life of dealing drugs, in and out of trouble with the courts, the judges time and time again reminding him that those in heaven had a standard to set, Crack finally got pissed off enough with the drug scene, worked a regular shmo job
for a few centuries, and drifted away to an American West section of heaven, ended up in a deserty state with some plush land around some major rivers, bought a homestead, and retired from it all to live simply as a cattle farmer with a recent wife he
had acquired, and to get the hell over his bad boy ways.

But some things never leave you, in the end – sometimes you just can’t escape your destiny.

* * * * *

‘Free me, let me loose to love you, oh how I long to seduce you.’
‘Emma. You are a bad, bad girl. A bad, BAD girl. You know I am faithful to Melanie. Hopelessly devoted.’
‘That’s not what I hear,’ said Emma, a big smile on her face.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Let’s just say a certain Queen of England’s namesake had a little word with me and confessed some quite, quite, sordid details.
‘Lies,’ I tell you,’ said Daniel proudly. Melanie was again, conveniently, at the general store, and Emma whipped off her bra top and gazed at him. ‘I’m single at the moment, Danny, and you always put on a good performance. My sisters can
testify to that truth.’
‘Fuck,’ he said.
‘That really does sound like a good idea,’ she responded, and came forward, worked her magic, and later that night Daniel, next to Melanie, unable to get it up, for Melanie had desires that night, was just hopeful that Melanie hadn’t worked it out.
Next to him Melanie, who had remained cordial, was not stupid, and pictures of Daggers being thrust through Daniel’s faithless heart filled her dreams all night.


Chapter Four

‘Why Daniel, Daniel?’
‘He has a wicked sense of humour. I need a break from your seriousness, Em.’
Emma Watson said nothing. That was life, though, with Daniel Radcliffe. He made up his mind, made his own decisions, and if you didn’t like it he always said ‘Your free to leave me.’ But she wouldn’t – not now. They had been through too
much together. Too much in terms of friendship, more than anything else. It had always been like that, though. The Harry Potter movies to start with – aeons of them – and by then Daniel, Rupert and even Tom Felton, were her best friends. And
that just seemed to be the way it was – friends forever, and a day.

They’d been passionate together enough times, and even been married briefly a few times, but it wasn’t that, really. They weren’t man and wife, and didn’t really pretend to be anymore. They were simply best friends – close friends – and the
power of magic weaved by Joanne seemed to keep them together forever, wether they wanted that reality or not.

Sometimes she thought to herself, Emma Watson. Just who on earth is Emma Watson? Is she simply Hermione Granger’s alter ego? Is she a forgotten name of an actress whose real life identity, to put it bluntly, was a witch of supreme power and fame?
Oh, the tabloids used her real name, the paparazzi never seemed to quite forget who she was, but it always seemed a shadow – a half life. Caught up in the Hogwarts crew, forever condemned to the pounds she had earned and the claim on her life they had
made for her talent at the noble art of acting.

Sometimes, true – she regretted it. She wanted her own life, her own space. But it was then, in the wee hours having a drinking session with Daniel or Rupert or Tom or one of the others, that they reminded themselves that, in reality, they were on to
a good thing, and the endless money which they had available to them ensured their eternal wealth. Could she complain that much in the end, anyway? Could she?

Besides, anyway, she still, even after all this time, got a bit of a kick out of it. The fame – the fortune – the celebrity. Being known everywhere in heaven, having doors opened for her – literally – whenever she wanted. Well, it wasn’t
that bad in the end, anyway.

Daniel’s friend, Daniel Daly, was the author of the ‘Morning Stars’ saga, which was still the number one selling series. The Harry Potter connection, though, was with Daniel’s ‘Lucy Potter’ series, which was connected to Daniel’s saga,
Lucy being an invention of Daniel, supposedly a cousin of ‘Harry’s’. The Lucy books, too, were incredibly popular, and the Harry Potter franchise was deemed, by many, as probably lasting forever with its own success and the blessing from the Lucy
Potter books.

As they drove along, headed out from London, on the long trek westward, as Daniel had decided to drive all the way, which would take at least a year and a half, Emma looked out the window, watched the familiar scenery pass by, and scratching for
something to do, pulled out an Atari Lynx, started playing the game ‘Race to the Death’, and disappeared into Emma World, and let Dan do the driving.


Chapter Five

Victoria had left last week. Emma said her goodbyes that morning. Now Melanie was looking at him with daggers in her eyes, and Daniel thought it was time to confess.

‘Um, Mel,’
‘Yes Daniel,’ she said, with the voice of a nun in her strictness.
‘I have some sins to confess.’
‘Let me guess. Extra marital affairs? Am I right? She said, looking directly at him.

He said nothing, but stood, went into the next room, the living room, and picked up a photograph album, and sat there, looking at photos. About 2 hours later Melanie came in, sat down next to him, and looked at what he was looking at. It was a photo of
the two of them together on their first honeymoon. They’d had endless copies of it made, and there was a master copy kept at a certain photography specialist were they obtained copies from occasionally. Daniel had been looking at it for about half an
hour, and had cried briefly.

Melanie put her head against his shoulder, looked at the photo, and let it go. Daniel couldn’t confess, but had told her in so many words left unsaid. There was no need to drag the issue up. There was no need to say anything. She looked at the
photo, and that it was her, and that it was his way of telling her, sincerely, that she was still the one and that, in the end, even in a rocky relationship, some things never changed deep, deep down in the heart of Daniel.

* * * * *

Daniel sat on the horses back, slowly plodding along, the dozen cattle in front of him being herded by the barking kelpie towards the next open gate. These cattle were to be slaughtered, as they had been sold to the local abattoir after the manager had
come out and selected a dozen of them which looked good.

This work was his life, at the moment. A farmer – a cattleman – a cowboy. ‘Rainbow Ranch’ resided in an American state which, technically, didn’t even have a name. It was registered as a state, given a state ranking number, which was the
main was of classifying the state, but nobody called it anything in particular. But that was what it was like in ‘Free America’ as it sometimes was called, a conglomeration of about 150 various states, some which had names, some which didn’t even
bother. There was a lot of parochial patriotism in names, and the founders of Free America had an attitude that they wanted to get away from things which had been popular in earth ideology, towards a simpler life, a more basic life, not caught up in
pursuits of glory, but living the simple life. True, most cities and townships bore names, but that was for postal reasons and the convenience of identifying a place in conversation – but the Spirit of Free America was against patriotism, sort of. It
valued American culture and way of life, but denied the bane of patriotism as it was called, and wanted a humbler outlook on life. They were also quite biblical, and teachings from the biblical book of Daniel were popular, the ones which taught God
abased proud rulers.

Daniel chose Free America for a number of these reasons – the lack of patriotism and, further, the simple life. But, more than that – the general passivity and calmness the place had a reputation for. They were not necessarily spiritual people, in
a religious sense – they were ordinary folk for the most part, with ordinary heavenly values – but they disdained violence, competition and the way of pride. And for Daniel and Melanie, who had gradually gotten over such things which all too often
arise in those who achieve great successes in life, the simple life was a refreshing alternative.

Today he was engaged in the basic everyday work of life he had sought, herding cattle to a paddock, and as he plodded along on ‘Freejack’ his horse, he was happy enough, feeling at peace with everything, and looking forward to the traditional meal
Melanie prepared for him after a hard day’s work.


Chapter Six

Daniel counted the cattle head. 11. He counted again. 11. That was – not right. There should be 12. He went over, checked the gate, and found it secure, and stood there – puzzled. Were on earth was the 12th head of cattle.

The abattoir worker arrived and Daniel, coming over, apologized profusely. ‘Sorry, Sam. I DID have 12 cattle here, but one seems to have gone missing. He must have jumped a fence or run over one, as unlikely as that may sound. I can deliver him
myself later on, if that is ok.’
‘Sure, Dan. Well, we will load up these 11 and here is the cheque,’ said Sam Jones, handing over the agreed on sum. That was how Daniel worked out here – cash or cheque only – and on exchange of goods. Nothing more formal than that.

Later that day, having first surveyed the paddock fencelines carefully, not having found any way the cow could have gotten out, he doubted very much that it could have jumped the fence – these ones were designed against it, and were far to high for
starters. As bizarre as it sounded, he could only suspect someone had borrowed the cow – for whatever reason’s they had. Heck, if someone needed a cow, he would have been happy enough to give it to them – but taking it without permission? That
was almost akin to stealing – almost. He’d do a proper check of the property in the morning to see if it showed up and, if not, he would have a word with the sheriff. See if anything else similar had been happening in the district. Perhaps they
had an old fashioned cattle rustler, as bizarre as that may sound.

He finished up for the day, put Freejack into his stall, and spent the night explaining to Melanie C about the missing cow and the possibilities of a romantic cattle rustler in the district. It did give good nightly meal conversation, if nothing else.

* * * * *

Crack Jiminty looked at the cow. A big ‘X’ on the hide, Mr Daly’s symbol for his cattle, standing for God only knows. He had done it for kicks – nothing more really. He was bored, needed to get a bit of a rush, and thought, fuck it – I’ll
steal a cow. And so he did.

But, looking at the cow, thinking that it was such a rush and that he enjoyed it so much, he thought on his mates – his posse, as he liked to call them – and a plan entered his head. Rob the district – steal all the cattle – and see if they
could get away with it. For how long it ever lasted. I mean, selling drugs had been a lifestyle, but this was fun. He enjoyed it. Of course, technically, again, it was against the law. He couldn’t imagine, though, it was the kind of thing which
would ever get him kicked out of heaven, though if he got busted they would throw the book at him and he would do some real hard time. But prison life wasn’t the worst of lives, and the rush, so far, he deemed worth it.

Getting back to the homestead, he went into his den, pulled out a large red handkerchief, and folded it over like a triangle, wrapped it around his face, and looked at himself in the mirror, putting on his white cowboy hat. Rounding off the look, he
opened the closet bottom drawer, pulled out his gun and holster, which was mainly just for the look, put it around his waist, and drew the gun, pointing it at the mirror, with his red kerchief over his face, looking every bit the outlaw. ‘Stick em up,�
�� he said to his reflection. He played around for a while, before putting his gear away and, realizing he had once again embarked on a life of crime, laughed at the irony of being unable to escape his destiny, wether he actually wanted to or not. Some
things were just meant to be, Crack Jiminty thought to himself. Just meant to be.



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