She got up from the bed quietly, careful, as always, not to disturb Simon. Without opening the windows or lighting the lamps, she dressed herself quickly. She spared another glance at Simon, then she carefully reached her hand into her coat pocket and removed the only thing she could call her own, a deck of Tarot cards that her grandmother had once given her, before…
She stopped that line of thought brusquely and, with another quick look at Simon, began to quietly shuffle the cards. Her question, as always, was about Simon—or rather herself. She'd been with Simon for quite sometime, but there'd been others before him, some worse, some better. But to her they were all the same, only the name changed.
Simon called her Lilly, but Lilly was not her name. She shook her head once and cursed her father. As she'd been cursing her father, she had laid out the Tarot cards for her daily reading. She sat back, a bit shocked.
Sure….she knew others would laugh at her for her belief in these cards. But her grandmother had taught her to read them and to respect them. And they had never lied to her. And that was a lot more than she could say about every person she knew. These cards were her only friends. They told her truth…whether pleasant or not.
And here they were telling her something they had never told her before, offering something they had never offered before. This reading was unlike anything she'd ever seen before.
She looked again to be sure. The cards definitely said that a change was coming, and that hope was in that change. Greed and abuse were fading into her past.
Though her cards had never lied to her before, she could hardly dare hope that they spoke truthfully now.
Simon started to stir and she quickly gathered up her cards, shoving them deep into the pocket of her coat.
"Lilly, come here," Simon said.
And she went to him.
"We're leaving today. Get my things packed. I want to be ready to leave in half an hour."
She nodded her head and began gathering Simon's belongings. She mused while doing so that there was indeed change coming. They'd been in this small town for months. In all that time, her cards had said "sorrow and stagnation"; today they spoke of change. She added "and hope" to her thoughts. They spoke of hope. And now Simon was ready to move on.
A short while later, she mounted up behind Simon on the horse. All his things were in the saddlebags, along with the few garments he allowed her. She surveyed this awful little town once as they rode out. She would not miss it, or the countless dozens like it she had been in before. On the other hand, she smiled lightly, she was heading towards Hope.
It was nearly dark when they rode into the town. It had been a long day of riding, and she was tired. But she knew Simon all too well. He would likely tie up the horse, untended of course, and head for the nearest saloon, looking for a mark.
He didn't disappoint her. He stopped the horse and dismounted, tying the tired steed to a post. Then, with a glare, he ordered her off. She dismounted.
"Take off that coat, Lilith, much too dirty."
She nodded mutely and removed the coat, tying it securely on the horse. Then she followed as he headed to the saloon.
Her first impression of the saloon was the noise and the dark. But that was not unusual at all. A few of the patrons looked oddly at all. A few of the patrons looked oddly at her as she entered, but she was used to that by now. Simon always insisted she accompany him.
She saw a lone man sitting calmly at a table. He was wearing a red jacket and his apparel was…to say out of place didn't quite cover it. It was fancy, as if he placed a great deal of stock in his appearance. She knew Simon. This would be the man he'd pick as his mark. She almost felt sorry for the man in the red jacket, almost but not quite. If he played with Simon, he only had himself to blame for his losses.
The man smiled as they approached. In a soft southern drawl he said, "Good evening. Might I interest you in joining me?" He indicated the empty chairs.
Simon gracelessly sat down. "Sure. You like poker?"
The man in red looked at her. "My dear, this diversion is not likely to be of interest to you. Are you quite certain you wish to remain?"
Simon glanced at him. "She stays."
He looked at Simon and shrugged casually. "It is of no consequence to me, I assure you. I was only interested in allowing your companion the opportunity to extricate herself gracefully from an endeavor which will surely prove tiresome to her. Unless she will be participating as well?"
Simon openly gaped at him for a moment. The man smiled.
"She stays."
The man shrugged as she took a seat between them. She determined that she liked man. He was amiable enough.
After the first round of the game, she could tell by Simon's expression that the man was not the mark he'd expected. That, and the fact Simon lost.
Then Simon lost again. By now, she could tell that Simon had lost too much to simply walk away from the table.
The man in red, however, maintained a perfectly calm demeanor, mostly. He'd tried to engage her in conversation several times, but each time Simon had cut her off before she had a chance to respond. The last time he'd done that, she would have sworn she saw a flash of anger in his eyes. But it was gone in a moment.
The cards were dealt again. Simon wagered everything he had, and the man in red raised once again. Simon looked at the man. "I have no more money."
"Then it appears this game is at an end," came the soft reply.
"Wait!" Simon said. "I have no money, but I do have her." He indicated her. She wasn't really surprised.
"You would wager your companion?" the man in red asked dangerously.
"Why not? She ain't nothin' to me."
She knew this line. She'd been here before…several times. It was how she'd met Simon. It was how the life she now lived had begun.
She said nothing though. She kept her expression neutral.
"She means nothing to you, and yet you expect her to have value to me? An intriguing notion," the man in red commented casually. He turned to her. "My dear, how do you feel about this?"
She looked at him in shock. No one had ever asked her that before. But before she could respond, Simon said, "She's mine. It don't matter how she feels."
She saw anger once again flicker in the man's eyes, but he did not divert his attention from her. "What is your name?" he asked her.
"Her name is Lilith, not that it matters," Simon stated.
The man looked away from her and glared at Simon. "If you expect me to accept her as your wager, you will allow her to speak."
"Tell him your name…Lilith," Simon ordered.
She looked at Simon, then turned to the man in red. He was her hope…the hope the cards promised her. She could feel it. She decided to trust them.
"Felicity. My name is Felicity Chambers," she said very softly.
The man in red smiled at her lightly. She wasn't paying attention to Simon, but he had been paying attention to her.
"Damn you girl! I told you your name was Lilith." He swung his hand back to punch her, but the blow did not land. She watched in amazement as the man in red held back Simon's arm. He smiled at her.
"Ezra Standish," he said. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Chambers."
Felicity's eyes widened, not only from surprise that this man had just defended her, but also from the manner in which he addressed her. He'd called her "Miss Chambers". No one had ever addressed her like that before.
"I have decided that your wager is acceptable," Ezra said to Simon.
Felicity had gotten past the point of caring about the outcome of hands at poker. She had. But this particular hand had her undivided attention. Sure, she'd been through this before, several times; it was how she'd ended up with Simon.
But this time, Felicity found herself hoping that Mr. Standish would win. She knew if he did not, she would pay for her defiance. She couldn't even imagine why she'd told him her name; it was a name she had not heard in ages.
She watched Simon, and she could tell by the way he held himself that he was exceedingly pleased with his hand. She looked at the man in red…Ezra…and she could tell nothing. He did not look at her. His eyes were fixed on Simon.
Finally, they laid down their cards. Simon had two pair, king high. It was a good hand, but Ezra had a straight flush. Felicity let out a breath she did not know she'd been holding.
"Well then," Ezra drawled casually, "I believe I have relieved you of your charming companion." He looked directly at Simon. Then he turned and smiled at Felicity.
"My dear, why don't we go gather your belongings."
"No!" Simon exploded. "You won the girl, but nothing else. Everything she has is mine."
That's not true!" Felicity cried. Then she remembered that Simon did not know about her grandmother's gift.
She started to panic. Her clothes meant nothing to her. They were of styles she would not have chosen. Her cards, however, were the one thing she'd always had that was hers, and Simon was trying to take them away.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. Ezra was smiling at her. Then he turned his gaze back to Simon.
"I will offer you the opportunity to regain your losses this evening. Everything except Felicity. I win, I keep everything and you relinquish Felicity's belongings. You win, I return what you had when we met, excepting again, Felicity. I am not willing to lose her. Do we have an agreement?"
Felicity knew that the pot was too juicy for Simon to resist. She looked at Ezra, admiration and awe shining clearly in her eyes. He was defending her. Sure, she was now his possession, but at least he ascribed some value to her. She saw Simon glare at her, but she didn't care; she was free of him.
The cards were dealt again. Felicity watched with interest. When they lay their hands down and Ezra had won, she clapped with glee. She had not wanted him to lose on account of her.
But her joy was short lived, for she realized that even though she now had her possessions, her cards, they belonged to Ezra. Her cards were no longer hers. Everything she had was his.
Ezra stood up and offered her his arm. She stood up and took it meekly. He looked at her for a moment. "Come, let us collect your belongings and be rid of that loathsome miscreant."
Felicity nodded and led Ezra to the overburdened horse. She vaguely heard him curse Simon under his breath when he saw the poor animal. She liked this man. That scared her. She had never liked anyone she was forced to be with. But Ezra was different somehow.
She moved quietly and quickly, first untying her coat and putting it on, then she reached into the saddlebag for her small bundle.
She walked back to Ezra, noticing Simon in the shadow. She watched, as if it weren't happening, as Simon raised a gun and pointed it at her. She heard the firing of the gun and she felt herself pushed with violent quickness. She heard another gunshot ring out as she landed on the ground.
But she had not been hit. Ezra had pushed her aside. She looked up at him, only to notice that he was clutching his side. He still had his gun out and aimed in Simon's direction. Simon lay on the ground and he was not moving.
Felicity stood up and ran to Ezra. She noticed the blood oozing over his hand. "You're hurt!" she cried. "You need help. Where? Who?" She was trying not to panic. This man had defended her…again. And she was not going to let him down now.
When he looked at her, she could see the pain in his eyes. He was disoriented. "Where do you live?" she asked. "We need to get you home, then I'll find the doctor."
"This burgeoning metropolis does not at present have the services of a doctor readily at hand."
No doctor, she thought wildly. The town didn't have a doctor?
Ezra turned to the hotel and staggered slightly. Felicity put her arm around his waist and draped one of his arms over her shoulder. "You'll need to help me a little, Mr. Standish. I'm afraid I don't know your town very well, and if you fall, I won't be able to lift you. Where are we going?"
"Hotel. Second floor," he said quietly.
Felicity nodded. Together they staggered down the street. No one came out to help. She noticed that no one came out to investigate the gunshots that had sounded out. She saw a few faces in the windows, but nothing else. She vaguely wondered where the sheriff of this town was. Surely, he should have investigated.
After what seemed like forever, she finally got Ezra to the hotel room. She opened the door and she started to walk with him over to the bed. She knew he'd been hurt badly and that he was fighting hard to help her, because she was covered in blood. Blood he was losing. Suddenly, he slumped forward, and she caught him…barely. The sudden increase in his weight, however, propelled her backwards. She landed on the bed, Ezra's unconscious form on top of her.
It took her several moments to shift him off her. Then she pulled him completely onto the bed and tried to make him more comfortable…or at least move him to a seemingly comfortable position.
Felicity knew next to nothing about medicine. But she knew that she needed to get that bullet out and she knew she needed to stop his bleeding. How…well that was quite another story.
She quickly began to work on moving Ezra's jacket. When she pulled him to a sitting position, he opened his eyes.
"Mr. Standish?"
He focused on her for a moment.
"Can you help me take your coat off?"
Ezra nodded and, leaning on her, removed his jacket. When the jacket was removed, Felicity pulled his shirt tails out and began to unbutton the shirt. Before she could remove the shirt completely, she felt Ezra slump against her.
She took his shirt off, then gently lay him back on the bed. With a deep breath she looked at his injury. Then she went over to his dresser where she had noticed a basin and pitcher. The pitcher was empty, so she left Ezra alone for a moment and went to refill it with fresh water, knowing that she'd need it.
Felicity returned with the water, then began searching for something she could use for bandages. Ezra had a lot of clothing, she noted rather quickly, but all of it was of high quality and exquisite workmanship. She hated to destroy any of it. Finally, she located one shirt that looked a little worn about the cuffs. It was at the bottom of a drawer, and she hoped it was not one he would miss. She also hoped he would not be too irritated with her for going through his things. But she needed bandages, and she only had one additional outfit, or she'd have used her own.
She quickly tore the shirt into strips and then carried the strips over to Ezra. The water was already close by. Using the washing cloth that she had found earlier, she gently bathed the wound with water. Absently, she noticed a half empty bottle of whiskey nearby and she moved it closer to her. The alcohol in it was better than none at all. When she had washed the wound, she was able to get a closer look at it.. The bullet was not too deeply embedded; she could easily see it.
Felicity then realized she had nothing with which to remove the bullet. She started looking around again, hoping to find a knife or something she could use. She saw nothing, so grimacing, she washed her hands then poured alcohol over them. Then she reached into the wound and pulled out the bullet.
Ezra groaned at her touch.
Quickly, she poured some of the whiskey into the wound, causing Ezra to twist away from her. She waited a moment for him to be still again, then she washed the area clean with the water. Finally, she applied the bandages to his side, hoping that she'd done this correctly. She covered Ezra with a blanket, wiped his forehead with the cloth, and then lay down on the floor beside the bed. It had been an extremely long day, and Felicity was exhausted.
She awoke the next morning as the sun came into the room. She was disoriented, and for a moment did not recognize her surroundings. The memory of the previous evening came back to her in a flash. She sat up and checked on Ezra. He seemed to be resting peacefully.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Tarot cards. She quietly lay them on the table and looked at them. They showed peace and tranquility. She started to clear them up when she heard movement behind her. Ezra was attempting to sit up. After a moment, he gave up and leaned back on the pillow.
He looked at her oddly for a moment. Then he said, "Miss Chambers?"
Felicity nodded.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
She was confused. "You were injured. I …"
He looked down at the bandages. "You took care of me?" He smiled.
She looked away and blushed.
"Much obliged, dear lady," he said quietly. Then he looked at her curiously. "What were you doing just now?"
Felicity looked at him startled. He'd seen her cards. "You would not understand, Mr. Standish."
"Try me," he said.
She took a deep breath. "I was reading my Tarot."
He didn't laugh, but he said, "You surely do not place your faith in those instruments of prophesy, do you?"
She blushed.
He looked at her again. "I see that you do. Why?"
"They have never lied to me. They told me I'd meet you."
He looked astonished. "Explain."
"They told me change was coming and that it brought with it hope."
He considered what she said. Felicity stood up and went to the pitcher beside the bed and poured him a glass of water. "You've lost a lot of blood, Mr. Standish. You really should rest. Here," she said as she handed him the glass.
He took a couple sips of the water then handed the glass back to her. Within moments, he drifted back to sleep. Felicity took the time to check and change his bandages.