Gilgarra Mountain slashfic. AKA, the story I'll never show my husband 'cause he'd have a stroke. (Really, this is just a little vignette, rated PG at most - something I picture in my head almost every time I hear Peter, Paul & Mary's version of "Gilgarra Mountain". I think it's because when Peter Yarrow sings the line, "I'd like to find my brother, the one who's in the army...I swear he'll treat me fairer than my darlin', sportin' Jenny," it always strikes me as so sad and wistful and not like someone looking for his actual brother. Then again, I'm weird sometimes. *g* And now that the backstory is longer than the vignette, here it is:
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