Dedication: To GinnyW. I know your birthday is in two days and today is MY birthday, but I like making friends happy on my birthday and I love you... and what was supposed to be a one shot turned into a whole story because I am me and that's what I do. So anyway. I love you. I'll wish you happy birthday later
A/N: This was conceived by Shug and myself, and lovingly attended by jfka06 and barburella.
Disclaimer: Just playing in Stephenie Meyer's driveway with her gorgeous toys.
The unsettled west of the United States in the early years of the country's existence was a wild place. Brave few chose to live off the land, making their living on the ranch. Even in the little towns that popped up here and there, life wasn't easy. The land was as deadly as it was wide open and beautiful.
With settlements few and far between, there was no shortage of people ready to take advantage of them who would leave their interests not well enough protected. There were some who would protect the innocent when they could.
Then there were those who weren't averse to slinging their guns for either side, those whose services were available for the highest bidder, legal or not.
James Hunter's gang of misfits wasn't particular about how they went about obtaining their funds. Or at least, that's what James claimed. In all honesty, it seemed to Edward that the man had a cruel streak as wide as the river. More often than not, his little crew seemed to go after the jobs that required blood and violence.
In the dead of the night, when it was just him, the stars, and the coyote for company, Edward Cullen couldn't quite understand how his life had gotten to this point. He'd never set out to be a bad man, but he couldn't deny that with James, he did bad things.
He couldn't say it was all he knew. He'd been raised up better than all that, been brought up with the word of the Lord, and been taught about the evils of sin.
Edward had taken one too many of his preacher father's righteous lickings and decided he was better off serving the barren land than his father's God. He still remembered how he couldn't hardly lift his arm from that last beating as he ran off into the night.
He'd been fifteen years old, angry, and hungry when James found him. James was everything Edward's father despised, and maybe that - along with the promise of good warm meals and money in hand - was what drew him to the criminal and his little gang.
Ten years later, this life was really all Edward knew.
Sometimes, though, he could convince James to do the right thing, take on a job that let them use their gifts for weaponry and scheming for a greater purpose.
Of late, he'd convinced James to assist a small town's church who'd had their every penny taken and their stores raided. The settlement was tiny - no proper general shop, nor saloon - just a few houses, an orphanage, and the church. Seemed a good many of the town's menfolk had taken ill the previous winter and died. The church, and the food they'd rationed, were the only way many of the townsfolk were going to make it through the long, hard winter.
So though the church could provide no monetary form of payment, Edward talked James into a trade. It had been a while since they'd had a proper meal and slept anywhere but the hard ground. Praying on them who couldn't defend themselves wasn't the mark of a strong man, and the job of getting back the little bit of money and food rations would be easy.
As he'd predicted, the job took nothing to accomplish. In one afternoon the stores were replenished and most of the money returned.
The little town did what they could to celebrate their heroes.
As evening fell, Edward was good and drunk on the whiskey that had been passed around. He was trying to revel in the tiny piece of contentment he found - it never lasted, the guilt always returned - except the priest wouldn't stop jabbering in his ear.
Edward tried to have as little as possible to do with church-going folk.
Besides, he found himself highly distracted by the person who'd come up beside him.
Howl at the moon drunk, all Edward would remember later was big, beautiful brown eyes. There was something about them that spoke of warmth, home. He wanted to melt into them, wrap himself in the comfort they promised.
Everything else was flashes - pale skin in the moonlight, the creak of the bed as he moved, a moan, a gasp, and then the darkness of a deep, peaceful sleep.
~0~
The other girls at the orphanage thought she was very lucky.
They'd all seen the strangers when they came into town, when Father Weber asked them for their help. The children had all huddled in the windows, whispering to each other. They all knew about the men who'd taken all the money away. These men were supposed to get it back, though the general consensus was they looked near as bad as the thieves themselves.
The older children gossiped, each of them too young to be considered an adult but old enough to understand the men had to be paid some way.
Bella tried to ignore it all, get on with her chores, until the priest came to fetch her.
The equation was very simple. The town had too many mouths to feed and not enough to feed them and keep the people in what they needed to survive. There was a surplus of widows and orphans and a deficit of everything else.
Father Weber - the de facto leader of the town and provider of the people - had done what he could where he could. Last Spring, he had given over two of the orphan boys to a farmer who promised to send meat and eggs. In exchange, the boys had food in their bellies, a roof over their heads, and some spare change in their pocket that they might make a life with when they were old enough. The previous Fall, a travelling salesman had given over enough glass to fix many of the broken windows in town and then some in exchange for one of the girls' hand in marriage. Similarly, a rancher from not too far away had need of a wife to look after his two motherless children, and another girl was whisked away.
After she'd been bathed in perfumed waters, as the nuns sat her down, combing her hair out until it was soft and shiny, Father Weber explained patiently what a better life she would have. He could not hope to provide for so many who had nothing to offer. Like most those in the orphanage, Bella had nothing in the way of a dowry. Her parents had died with the sickness that had overcome the town. What little they had had gone to the church to help feed everyone.
She wasn't the oldest girl, but she was the most desirable, as these things went. She wasn't scarred like Emily. Nor was she damaged goods like Lauren who had lost her virtue at the hands of a cowboy who was just passing through, whom Father Weber had let sleep in the barn. Then Angela, of course, was Father Weber's daughter and engaged besides to Ben Cheney.
The man she was to be given over to was handsome, the other girls noted. Very handsome indeed.
The boys thought of the adventures he would take her on.
Lucky, they said.
Now, Bella lay still in bed, trying to quell her shaking as she watched the sun finally rise through the room's one window. She was nude, her sore body tucked up against his, his arm firm about her waist. She'd been crying off and on all night but now gritted her teeth, telling herself to stop being foolish.
Her future lay in front of her, a yawning blank space she couldn't know, at least not until the man who lay beside her woke and talked to her.
If he was interested in talking.
Bella quaked, perversely glad of the man's warmth though it was him she feared, technically speaking.
As if he'd heard her thoughts, he stirred, wiggling against her. She felt his hardness brush against her thigh and shut her eyes tight, willing herself to find calm.
The man beside her - Edward - groaned, lifting his head and blinking, wincing at the light of the dawn. As his eyes focused on hers, she hoped fervently he couldn't tell she'd been crying. She tried her best to smile at him, though she was sure it must have been a weak effort.
"Ah, hell," he muttered, rolling away from her onto his back.
Bella frowned, her stomach twisting sickeningly. Was he displeased with her? She remembered the way his eyes had raked her body when they were standing by the light of the fire, when Father Weber was making his offer. The look in Edward's eyes then had made her throat tight and her face get hot. Her stomach had filled with butterflies, and her very skin had felt alive. Aware. It was a peculiar feeling she was entirely unaccustomed to, and she'd ducked her head, shy and a little ashamed but pleased he might find her pretty.
But perhaps he was not satisfied now that he saw her in the light of day. Bella had never found herself particularly attractive, though she didn't think she was ugly either. This morning, though, she did feel sticky. Dirty.
She most certainly did not feel as fresh and pristine as the nuns had made her the day before.
Edward turned his head to her again, his eyes opening slowly, as if perhaps her being there had just been a trick of the light.
"Christ almighty," he moaned, a hand over his eyes. He groaned as he got upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "You're just a child."
Frowning, Bella sat up, her back against the wall, and gathered the thin blanket closer to her, covering her body. She bit her lip, confused. What was her role here? How could she know?
Edward turned back to her, and it seemed as though he was extraordinarily guilty. His green eyes that had struck her in the firelight the night before seemed heavier somehow in the early dawn light of the morning. Deep with some unknown pain. "How old are you?" he asked gently.
She had to swallow hard, finding her voice missing for a few moments before she could speak. "Sixteen."
He closed his eyes tight, breathing through his nose.
"B-but I'll be seventeen soon. Just another month," she defended.
When he opened his eyes again, he reached for her. Before she could help herself, Bella flinched, cringing away from his touch. Quickly, she corrected, trying to keep her breath steady though her heart was suddenly pounding out of control.
It wasn't his fault he'd hurt her last night, she reasoned. She hadn't known much of those kinds of relations between a man and a woman, but she knew the pain was natural. He hadn't be so rough with her, she realized. His touch was soft. Not at all like the man who'd taken Lauren.
Bella had been the one to stumble on them. She'd seen the way the man gripped the blond girl, holding her head down on the dirty ground while his body drove into hers.
It hadn't been like that with Edward at all.
And besides, it was her duty.
Edward held up his hands, palm out. "I'm so sorry, chickabiddy," he said softly. "I won't touch ya." He grimaced. "At least, not again."
"N-no. It's fine. I didn't mean to make that face. You just surprised me, is all," she said quickly. Beneath the blanket, she twisted the sheet nervously between her fingers.
Bowing his head, Edward rubbed his eyes.
"Oh!" Bella exclaimed, realizing he must be hung over from the night before. His kisses had tasted of hard liquor. "L-let me get you s-s-some water," she stuttered. She winced at the soreness between her legs as she got out of bed, pulling her discarded dress over her head quickly.
"You don't have to-"
"I know how to be biddable," she said quickly. "Just give me a chance. I'm just not accustomed to-"
He held up his hands, and Bella snapped her mouth shut, staring at him pensively.
"Little darlin', whatever's got you thinking you're to serve me like this, it's wrong."
She furrowed her eyebrows. "It's my duty, sir. I mean... Edward." She frowned. Was she to call him by his given name? She recalled her mother calling her father by his name, but would he like that?
"Your duty?" He rubbed his eyes again and pulled on his pants. "It's not your duty. You owe me nothing. If anything, it's the other way around."
Again she frowned, confused. She could feel tears brimming in her eyes as frustration crept around the corners of her nervousness. "Please. If you'll only tell me what you expect of me, I know I can be a good wife." She was proud of the way she kept her voice steady, even if it was just a whisper.
Midway through putting his shirt on, Edward's back went rigid. "A good what?"
"A good wife."
He blinked at her stupidly before he laughed a little. "Ah, honey. You don't want to be my wife. Believe me."
Bella looked down at the ground, folding her hands in front of her, trying to understand what was going on. "But I am your wife."
"Come again?"
"Y-you don't remember?"
He looked at her blankly.
"Mr. Cullen. Edward. We are already married."
A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Fears? Hopes?
Talk to me people!