Well thank you very much Kcrane, Tina and the other two guests for reviewing! This will continue for you guys, and I hope you enjoy because I have many fun things planned!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but any OC's and original plot ideas that aren't historical.


The days had gone on since the Hatfields had played host for a short time to that strange girl from the North. She had been there and then she had been gone, and those few who had witnessed her being there had started to wonder if they had all gone mad from the heat of that day. Levicy Hatfield had not spoken of it again, and she had urged both Betty and Nancy to do the same. Later that same night Devil Anse had been informed of the ambiguous house guest by his wife, and his stern words on the matter had been not to bring a Yankee into his home again. That was his only words.

For Johnse and Cap, it was more difficult to forget. They had brought her back bloody and cold, looking very much like a victim of something gruesome and unmentionable. No search group or flyers had been rounded up around Mate Creek, and their Uncle Wall hadn't mentioned anything, so it was a safe assumption that she had made it back home to her father. Word or proof of that would have been comforting. It seemed Cotton still hadn't given up on his mission to spot them, and one day Johnse—jokingly said—that they ought to join him. Cap had laughed off the idea, yet come Thursday he had made a flimsy excuse to venture out to go and see Uncle Ellison and his soft hearted cousin.

It was early afternoon, abnormally hot with the sun at its highest in the sky. Cap sat under the shade of a tree, Cotton beside him while humming a tune to himself. His cousin's tenacity and patience amazed him. His pale eyes hadn't moved from the looming house down the road, and he might have quit blinking too. Cap had brought a book with him to stave off the boredom of the wait, but the ink on the old, dry pages was starting to blur together, and he found his focus kept going back to the house. How often had Cotton done this now?

He snapped the book shut with a grunt of annoyance, letting it fall into his lap as he crossed his arms over his chest. To see Clarice again had become something of an obsession for him. It wasn't for a romanticized reason nor was he enamoured by her presence, as such a short time he had spent in it. She had blown right out of his life just as quickly as she had come into it, and the feeling was only comparable in his mind to the rare few times he had ever missed a shot. With his rifle it was being deprived of that completion to see the light leave his kill's eyes, but with Clarice it was just the opposite; he wanted to see the light come back into them. Out in those woods, she had looked dead, even without all of the blood and gunk.

"Wuts'a Yankee like Cap?" said Cotton so suddenly that it caught him off guard. His cousin hadn't even turned his head away to direct the question.

Cotton had found out a day later about Clarice entering their home. Uncle Jim did have a big mouth, and he had spread it around to the rest of their kin by daybreak the following day. Cotton was never one to feel animosity, but his lip had trembled in disappointment at not being able to get that first glimpse. Afterwards he had quickly moved on to curiosity, following their Ma around with questions until she had to politely shoo him away from her skirts with a wooden spoon. Everyone had remained tight-lipped about the issue, and that hadn't settled well with Cotton. Cap was actually glad he was asking now though, because his thoughts had been running amuck with Clarice as well, and there hadn't been anyone to talk with about them seeing as things between him and Johnse hadn't improved much.

"I suppose they ain't all that different from us, 'cept for the way they talk of course."

Cotton's brow line furrowed. "They don't look different?"

"Nah, they're jus' as ugly as you n' me." He teased.

Cotton laughed back with a few big gulps of air, his cheeks immediately brightening. "Johnse said she was real pretty, like an angel."

Of course he did. Cap rolled his eyes skyward as he ran a hand back through his hair. He suspected his brother would eventually start to tire of the McCoy girl, advance to those same early stages that Cap had seen time and again with Johnse. His eyes would soon start to linger, and all of that fuss for Randall McCoy's kin will have been for nothing.

"Well Cap?" Cotton asked.

"Hmm, what?"

"Was she pretty?"

"Erm—if she hadn't a' been covered in all a' that crap she mighta been."

What value could be measured in a face? Cap put more stock in a name, like most other members of his kin, though he supposed his brother was more for the former. Since his accident at the timber yard, it had earned him many odd looks from strangers, and a fair few of fear and disgust from girls. Time had gotten on long enough now that he was accustomed to the vain nature of people, but he still found the notion insulting. Hell, maybe that made him a hypocrite; he liked a pretty face as much as the next man. Still, there was more out there that he searched for, but he didn't know what that was just yet.

"Cotton, Cap?" It was Uncle Ellison calling for them, he was walking out of the smaller home at a quick pace, but there was no look of alarm on his face. "We got us a visitor inside. How's about you come n' say hello?"

"Alright daddy," said Cotton as he stood up, brushing off his pants of grass and dust. His knees always seemed to have grass stains, probably from crouching down with the rabbits in the hutch. "C'mon Cap!"

Cap smiled small but genuine, a contagious thing when around his cousin. He placed his hat back atop his head and followed behind Cotton and his uncle, watching with amusement as Ellison tried to tame his son's excitement. It was just the two of them who lived out there on the small property. They had fewer animals and an extension out back that barely qualified as a barn. Still, the land was tilled and the fence was maintained, and help could always be found from one of their kin when they ever had need of it. Cap himself had helped more than once at his Uncle's home, a job he found considerably more favorable than being in the timber yard.

"Oh wow!" He heard Cotton exclaim inside of the house as he got up to the porch. The inside of Uncle Ellison's charming home was stuffy and dry, and seated at the old wooden table in the center was Clarice. Cotton stood in front of her, arms at his sides as he looked at her like she was a Christmas present. With that big bow tied at the back of her dress, she kind of looked like one. "Yer are a angel."

"Well you must be too," Clarice replied to Cotton's comment by taking off her hat and revealing her soft blonde hair that was braided away from her face. Cap had been right; with it washed and brushed, the strands were nearly as pale as Cotton's. "See, we match."

"Oh my." Cotton reached forward and brushed his hand down her braid over her shoulder, gentle like he was petting one of his rabbits. He pulled up a chair beside her, the wooden legs scraping loudly against the floor boards before he situated the chair to face Clarice. He was ready to hang on to her every word.

Cap took a seat at the table beside his uncle, his eyes squinting as he studied her carefully. She looked to be in good health now, even though the kitchen was dim, and he could see the light dapple of color on her cheeks. Her mannerisms weren't so different than the ones his mother had bestowed to his sisters, and she politely answered every question Cotton animatedly asked of her.

"How come you brought an umbrella with you? It ain't gonna rain today," Cotton said, pointing at the small folded up umbrella rested across her lap.

"Oh, it's a parasol," She handed it over to Cotton, and he stared at it like he was being presented a sword. "It's dated, but they were quite fashionable back in Paris. I just wanted to be under shade."

"You've been ta' Paris?" Cap asked in astonishment. All he knew of France was what he had read about the revolution. Places like that seemed so beyond his short reach in West Virginia.

"Miss. Darling is quite the globetrotter. She jus' got done tellin' me 'bout her n' her daddy livin' in New York." said Uncle Ellison.

She smiled shyly. "Well, my father is a professor. He loves his research and his work, and his studies take us all over, so we never stay in one place for too long. I do like the quiet here though, so hopefully we stick around for a while."

"Where's your Pa?" asked Cotton.

"Bedridden. I'm afraid the journey took its toll on him, so I've been looking after the home." She replied, her face falling into a grave expression.

"Good girl. Lookin' after yer Pap with no mama 'round, that's very honorable for yer age." Uncle Ellison complimented her.

She accepted his commendation of her character graciously while their Uncle poured them each a glass of cold water. Clarice continued with her stories, answering Cotton's questions of Paris with small tales of her journey. She made it sound like some far away land from a book, and for Cap it was hard to fathom. She was suddenly so worldly to him; unlike anything he had come across before, and likely never would again. The blood rushed out of his head for a brief moment when she thanked his Uncle in another language.

"Well, that there is somethin' fancy." Uncle Ellison chuckled boisterously.

"Daddy, can we go to Paris?" Cotton asked, the wide-eyed look never leaving his face as he looked at his father.

"It's a bit beyond our reach son."

"A big city loses its charm rather quickly anyway," Clarice piped up wryly. "If I had a choice, I would want to remain here for the rest of my days." Her voice grew so somber, and Cap wondered if she was already so fond of his home.

"Yer not stayin'?" Cotton whined in despair.

"For now I am, but I can't say for certain about the future."

"I would gladly marry you if it meant you could stay." Cotton said in a more quiet voice, a bad blush all over his fair face.

"Oh sweetheart, that's the loveliest proposal I've ever received," She leant forward in her seat and planted a kiss on Cotton's cheek while brushing his hair away from his forehead. "Don't you ever change for anyone."

Uncle Ellison shot Cap a wide grin, both of them struck under the same spell as they watched her kindness towards the boy. It was easy to see she had already bewitched Cotton, though his heart was so big, he would never have it in him to push anyone out of arms reach.

"I need to leave now. It's been a while, and I should check on my father." She grabbed her hat from the table and placed it on her head as Cotton handed her back the parasol.

Almost before he could help himself, Cap felt his body propel into a standing position with an offer on his lips. "I'll walk ya back."

"So polite." She murmured, pinning him with a look he couldn't interpret.

They said their goodbyes to Uncle Ellison and his boy, Cotton watching them from the porch with a pout on his lips as they descended the steps. Having agreed to walk her back home, Cap would have to backtrack and collect his horse from his Uncle's afterwards. There wasn't any point in riding now, Clarice had walked there, by and down from the dirt road that led back to her property. Her feet must have been killing her in those shoes, but at least her feet were covered this time. Thinking on that, it brought him back to his initial thoughts on her mysterious disappearance.

"How'd you do it?"

She let out a resigned sigh. "And here I'd hoped you would forget about that."

No chance in Hell sweetheart. "You were jus' gone."

"I wasn't quite as wounded as I made out, and I needed to get home," She shrugged while looking at him from under her French umbrella. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she suddenly looked more tired again then she had in his Uncle's kitchen. "Did I give the rest of your family a scare?"

"Nah, not a scare," Innocent thing like her, there wasn't much to be afraid of. "Don't think you'll be welcome back anytime soon though, seein' as yer a Yankee n' all."

"I don't think I qualify as a real Yankee, and my father isn't even from the North; he's Romanian."

"Romanian?"

"Well…he's not my real father, just a distant relative that took me on as his ward. My parents died when I was very young."

Cap had not been expecting such a bare-faced confession, and it was such an important piece about herself that he didn't rightfully have claim over. "Why ya tellin' me this?"

"Because you're curious; almost as much as your cousin was to catch a glimpse of me and my father," Cap wanted to argue her assumption, as correct as it was, but she held up a lace gloved hand to stop him. "Don't deny it; what other reason could there be for you being there today?"

He huffed, annoyed that she had caught on. "S'that why you finally decided ta' show yer self?"

"Maybe," She said elusively.

He frowned at her. "Hell, I don't understand you."

She laughed mirthfully at him, her smile hidden away under the shade of the parasol. "I'm not from here, remember? How common is it for a girl like me to be seen wandering around unaccompanied?"

She had him there. "'Bout as common as one lost in the woods." He still wanted to ask why she had been out there that day, but she seemed gifted at dodging his questions and distracting him with other matters. He'd just have to catch her off guard and trick it out of her another time. "How old are ya anyway?"

She paused, as if she had to think of the answer for a moment. "Fifteen."

She was nearing the age of having to find a husband, but nothing about her way of life was traditional, and her only loyalties seemed to be towards her father. Cap valued family as well, so he respected that, but he had to wonder if she ever got lonely. All that traveling she did around the globe probably made it difficult to remember to be lonely.

They were nearly bumping shoulders when they finally approached her home. The logs it was made from were dark, towered high with a stone chimney stack. It was all painted in shade from the trees that huddled around the home, branches resting against the roof as leaves littered the yard. A lone chair sat on the porch, the boards beneath it worn from use. With as elusive as her father was, it was more likely that Clarice had often sat there. Cap didn't want to get any closer to the steps of the porch than where he stood. There was no cheer or life in the structure, and he felt cold from it. Randall McCoy's home was more welcoming, and that was saying something.

"It doesn't look too good, does it?" Clarice stated sadly, and he winced, no doubt having caused her to say such a thing. "I wish it was homier, but what can be done?"

"Home is what ya make of it I suppose."

She made a sound of acknowledgement, climbing up the first step slowly with her dainty hand resting on the bannister. Her hair looked ghostly under the shade of the porch as she turned around to look at him again, a troubled expression on her face. "I suppose this is goodbye then, Will."

The idea of this being their last meeting didn't sit well with him. He might not have had many words to share, but he liked listening to her stories of the world, the way her voice rose and fell appropriately with her emotions. She was something else entirely, and he couldn't walk away yet. "Doesn't have ta' be."

She shook her head. "But I don't know how else I can see you. I'm not welcome at your home, and I don't think you coming here would be wise either."

"Ya have ta' leave your home sometime Clara. Mingle in town; I'm sure we'll come across each other again at some point. Small area, remember?"

"I suppose," She said hesitantly, her eyes flicking to the door of her home before she gazed back at him. "Goodbye Will."

He waited until the sound of her heavy door shut behind her, leaving him standing before her looming porch. "Bye Clara Darling."

Slowly his footsteps started to carry him away, back down the road towards his uncle's, where Cotton no longer sat in anticipation under the oak tree. Maybe he and his cousin shared the expectancy for their next visit with Clarice though, as abnormal as she was, she had a charm that couldn't be found anywhere in Mate Creek, let alone West Virginia.

The days had gone by since Clarice had disappeared from the Hatfields home, and so had the feeling of Cap being watched from an unforeseen predator. It wasn't until he was halfway down the dirt road from the Darling's home that it crept up on him again, straight through to his heart, and he looked over his shoulder with his good eye expecting the worse. The movement had been quick and brief, but Cap swore he had seen something move in the upstairs window of Clarice's home, glaring down at him with appetite. It was no longer there once he blinked, but all the way back to his uncle's barn, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had left Clara in the hands of something far more dangerous than Ol' Randall McCoy himself.


So something is lurking around, but what could it be?! Also, how cute is Cotton-Top?! He's too huggable for words, and I plan to have him back in this many more times! Let me know what you guys think :D