Chapter One
A Man and His Horse
When the army arrived at MacFarlane's Ranch, they stayed only three days to rest and water their horses. There were round about 25 men in the platoon, and most of them were tall, hardened soldiers with whiskers up their cheeks and covering their chins. But there was one, a slight, clean-shaven young thing who had to jump to reach the saddle. He was mounted on a silver-faced half-bred that was far too tall for him, but kept in immaculate condition nonetheless, far above and beyond the military standard.
On the day the army came, he offered his arms and legs for work, in exchange for a home-cooked meal and hay for his horse. Soon after, the rest of the platoon joined the man, and come early evening-time Bonnie was cooking a beef stew pot over the fire pit at the Ranch, while the army men, with their tents in the field behind the Ranch, were milling around having finished their days work. Some were gambling in various ways - while there was a few playing a game of poker, or horseshoes, some had brought sets of dice with them, or were otherwise talking of the ranch work with the farm hands.
The outsider, however, had taken a position on a tree stump by the corral, cleaning and caring for his guns, occasionally surveying the scenes around him. Bonnie spooned a bowlful of stew into a metal pan which all military men owned before making her way over to the young man. Being the only woman in a man's world – she knew all kinds of loneliness, and had already decided that this was what made the man's face look so bleak and sombre.
"Stew's done, if you're hungry." Now she was closer, she could tell that the uniform the man wore was too big for his body, and that the small revolver in his hands was not a part of the equipment given to the army men upon conscription, and she glanced over, noticing it in a holster by his rifle – and though she could only see half of it, she could see if gleamed under the late afternoon New Austin sun. Bonnie concluded that the blackened revolver in the man's hand must me his primary gun, considering.
Finally, after slowing his cleaning to a halt, the man flicked back his hat and looked up, catching Bonnie's eyes with his own. Bonnie, only seeing his face for the first time in such a close proximity, caught her breath in her throat. With such high cheekbones, slim nose, slender eyebrows and prominent eyelashes; this person lied on his conscription form without a doubt, about either his age or gender. But with spending so much time around men, it was unlikely to keep such an important secret such a gender hidden, and so, Bonnie guessed that this was no man, but a boy. A toughened, and inured boy, but still a boy.
"That would be wonderful, thank you, Miss MacFarlane."
Bonnie passed the steel bowl down to the boy, who had placed his gun on the floor by his feet while she was thinking. And Bonnie suddenly felt a little shameful, for finding herself attracted to this youthful stranger this morning, and her face reddened slightly, but was able to shake the thought from her mind when he spoke; his voice husky and cracked, from shouting over long distances, as cavalrymen do.
"Why don't you sit and we can parley, Miss." At this, he smiled at her, his blue-eyes shining from underneath the shade of his hat, and Bonnie couldn't help but oblige. Now, however, that she was closer, she found she could observe this boy in more scrutiny, and a large part of her was curious; there were many young boys who lied on a conscription form, but most were found and docked before much else could happen than a slap on the wrist and hiding when they returned home. But with this boy looking as young as he did, Bonnie wondered how his ruse had not been questioned as of yet.
"Well, Miss MacFarlane, I think I owe you an apology of sorts." The boy spoke.
Bonnie narrowed her eyes, confused, and shook her head in response. "No, that's not rightly true, Mister, ahh…" Her voice trailed away, and the boy beside her beamed, chuckling under his breath.
"I've known who you are all day, Miss. But you couldn't rub two pennies together to find my name; I never told you, and for that I apologise. It's Cole Lacey, but for all your help, you could call me Cole, Miss. If you'd take to it."
They both smiled at each other, and Bonnie suddenly felt a sadness for his young age – she had met such a mysterious man before; and he saved her life and the ranch numerous times, all just because she picked his half-dead body off the side of the road and gave him a bed. That man had been married, however, and she'd a letter from his wife and son not a month ago informing her of his death. Both her and her father, while being unable to attend the funeral, had sent their condolences, and 3 heads of cattle for their herd. She'd have given more if she could afford it, but Abigail and Jack were grateful aplenty.
"Then you call me Bonnie," She spoke, a stern tone to her voice, though spoke again a few seconds later, mirth miring her speech this time. "If you'd take to it."
Cole laughed, and Bonnie joined him, and they spoke for much of the night together. First discussing the chores of the next morning; but later discourse about politics, and outlaws, and gunslingers, and all kinds of the west before she had to accuse herself for sleep, as much as it irked her to do so – and felt a swell of pity for herself as she returned to her home, having to chastise herself for chasing men she couldn't have. Even if the lad Lacey was old enough for her, he was still a cavalry man, and still had a duty to his country over her.
But, for the next two days, she was drawn to the boy, and at the end of their rest, offered him a job and shelter when he was finished with his military tours, hoping that he would return one day. He reminded her of John Marston, and that was something that made her pleasantly happy; it was an emotion she wanted to feel again, as she'd only felt it before when with the gunfighter, despite that he was unavailable; he was witty, and daring, and something Bonnie felt she was deserving of.
