A Time to Escape
It was twilight when she decided she could put off feeding the horses no longer. She stepped out onto the porch, and filled her lungs with mercifully cool air. The western sky still glowed a brilliant orange, outlining the distant mountains stitched across the horizon.
It was her favorite time of day, had always been as long as she could remember. She had tolerated Virginia, had even come to appreciate the lush greenness and rolling hills of the South, and the distinct seasons. Still, there had always been too many trees blocking her view of the sky and stars. She had felt confined there at times, especially in the summer evenings when the air stayed close and heavy, pressing down on her.
It had been Kid's place, but it could never have been hers. She needed open skies with wide horizons.
She walked across the yard to the corral, keeping a watchful eye out for Jimmy. She felt like a towel that had been put through the wash and wrung out hard. She didn't think she had another confrontation, or even conversation, in her. She had gotten so used to being by herself, both during the war and after coming here, that she found people exhausting.
Jimmy was nowhere in sight, but neither were the horses in the corral that should have been fussing at her for their food.
Wrinkling her brow, and more than a little worried, she hurried to the barn and sighed in relief. Lightning and Katy were both in their old stalls, as was Sundance. It gave her a jolt to see them together like that, she had always looked for the paint and palomino when she rode in, always wanted to know their riders were home safe, above the others, before she breathed easy.
She looked in Lightning's stall, saw he had fresh water and clean bedding.
She moved to Katy's stall to check her as well, even though she knew Jimmy would have cared for them as carefully as she would have.
Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw Jimmy there in the stall with Kid's horse. He was stroking Katy's neck, tears rolling silently down his face. She could remember seeing him really cry only one other time and that had been when a peculiar little man named Ambrose had been killed saving his life.
Katy had lowered her head to rest against Jimmy's chest and stomach, giving as well as receiving comfort. The poor mare had soaked up quite of few of Lou's tears as well.
She wasn't sure if she made some sound of distress or if he just sensed her there, but he startled and turned toward her, and she saw the depth of pain in his eyes, knew that however they had ended things that his grief was real and consuming. She was still not sure she could ever move past the way they had parted, but his pain was tangible and it softened her heart towards him just a little.
That softening brought her no peace; she only felt as if she betrayed Kid with it.
He didn't say anything, watching her war with herself.
She could not think of the first thing to say to him. Burned bridges and four years stretched between them, those years each filled with a lifetime of pain. She didn't know how to bridge the gap, or if she even wanted to try.
The pain foremost in her heart, and now his, was still unspeakable for her. She knew he would want to know how Kid had died...he would need to know, but her mind could not dip toward that last day. Anything else they might say to one another seemed trivial, frivolous even.
So they were at an impasse.
She could tell from his expression that he was struggling with what to say as well, and that hurt too because they had once talked about everything and nothing with such ease. With Jimmy, more than anyone else, including Kid, she had never felt the need to censor her thoughts, had known there was nothing she could say to him that he wouldn't understand.
She met his eyes, heartbreak finding heartbreak for a long moment. It was far too intimate, and she looked away first.
She wanted to ask about the rest of her family, to know if they were well, hell, even alive, after the war. She wanted to know why he had looked so sad, even before she had told him about Kid. She wanted to know if he still had ties to that awful Burke woman, even though it was none of her business.
All those things were on the tip of her tongue, but she was a proud woman, and asking seemed somehow like losing whatever ridiculous, but high-stakes game she imagined they were engaged in.
"What is it, Lou?" he asked quietly, seeing her questions and the agony of asking them. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."
"Why are you still here?" she asked instead of the things she really wanted to know, her voice thin.
He looked at her a long minute, the stall door a safe barrier between them.
He sighed heavily, grappling with the words for a bit. "Because he wouldn't want me to leave you here alone. And neither do I," Jimmy finally said simply.
She felt the beginnings of a protest rising to her lips, wanted to rage at him that he had no right putting words in her husband's mouth, that he had no idea what Kid would or wouldn't want, and that it hardly mattered because Kid wasn't here and she was and she certainly didn't want him here to pull things from her better left buried.
But he spoke the truth. Kid had told her to go to them, to ask them for help. He had mentioned Jimmy particularly. There were some promises she just had not been able to keep when it came down to it.
"And what if I don't want you here?"
She saw him flinch at the words before he looked down to hide the pain she inflicted on him. It brought her no satisfaction to hurt him, but she needed him gone.
"Then...I-I'm sorry and I'll stay out of your way, Lou. You ain't gotta even speak to me. But I'm stayin'."
She started to argue, realized she didn't have the stamina to start a fight tonight. She could figure out a way to drive him off tomorrow.
He considered it progress that she walked away this time rather than running, and she didn't yell at him or tell him outright to leave.
This was a new Lou, and he wasn't sure if the old Lou was gone for good or just buried under her grief. This Lou was more serious and more ruthless than girl he had known, who had been tough enough in her own right. Then again, after the inferno the country had gone through, he wasn't sure that they all hadn't been forged into harder versions of themselves.
But he stood by what he had told her. He knew he would not have been Kid's first choice, but he also knew Kid would recognize he was better than no one.
"At least I hope that's what you would want, because God knows she doesn't," he said aloud as if Kid was standing right behind him, watching Lou's retreat.
In addition to the sheer enormity of work repairing the ruin of the station, he wasn't exactly sure what he had broken up earlier this afternoon when he had seen the well-dressed man towering over Lou. He knew better than to push her for information. Whatever it was, it had been clear to him, even at a distance, that they were butting heads.
When the stranger moved toward her, he had read it as a threat, decided to intervene. He knew the old Lou could handle herself, but he was a little worried what this new Lou would or would not do. She had seemed so small, standing toe to toe with that man. Her hair had been loose and waving around her pale face. She had looked beautiful, fierce, and forlorn when he had ridden to stand with her. That had surprised her, and the fact that she hadn't expected him to back her told him how many miles apart they were in their thoughts.
He wasn't sure if the stranger was going to be a problem, but he intended to find out as soon as possible.
The next morning she was up early, but he was up even earlier. Katy and Lightning had been turned out already when she stepped onto the bunkhouse porch. As she stood with her brow lowered and contemplated how she felt about that, Sundance emerged from the barn, harnessed to the beam she had tried, unsuccessfully, to move yesterday.
Jimmy called encouragement to the palomino from behind, where he held the long reins as the horse pulled the heavy load out past the corral and towards a dusty patch where Jimmy was creating a burn pile of debris.
He was shirtless, already covered with a sheen of sweat that let her know he had been at it awhile. Her eyes paused on the play of his muscles under his skin before she felt her cheeks heat with shame and looked away.
She wondered where he had passed the night, guessed most likely in the tack room Teaspoon had once stayed in. As far as she knew there was no mattress on the bunk there any longer. She started to feel badly about that, then remembered she had told him to leave twice already.
As she stood there, a wave of nausea rolled over her. Her mouth filled with saliva and a sweat broke out across her forehead as her stomach began churning.
"Not again," she groaned aloud, and as she did every morning and sometimes several times a morning, she fought the sickness with everything she had.
She knew she would lose and that she wouldn't feel better until she had turned her stomach inside out, but she detested this constant sickness, thought that surely it should be over at this point of her pregnancy. She braced a hand on a porch post and bowed her head, breathing hard through her nose and trying to think of neutral things that were not likely to make her sick.
Instead, her mind presented her with a series of disgusting images and remembered smells, and with a whimper, she ran to the far corner of the porch with a hand clapped over her mouth. She barely made it to the edge before she was sick off the side of it.
When she was empty, she leaned hard against a post for a moment, feeling weak, and waited for the tremors to pass.
She had just made up her mind that she was probably going to live when she heard a noise behind her. She whirled, felt dizzy at the sudden movement, and swayed back against the post.
Jimmy was standing at the other end of the porch, looking wide-eyed with worry and uncertainty of what to do.
She groaned again and wiped the clammy sweat from her face with a trembling hand. "Can't you just go away?"
"No. Are you alright? Do you need me to get a doctor?" he asked anxiously, eyes searching her face.
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
"You sure? You look pretty green."
"Thanks," she responded with enough tartness in her voice to make him smile. She almost smiled back from simple habit with him, barely stopped herself.
"Maybe you oughta take it easy today," he suggested. "I took care of the horses...working on clearing the storage area so I can fix the roof. Why don't you rest until you are feeling better?"
"I can't pay you if that's what you are after," she snapped suddenly, eyeing him with hostility and not wanting to be in his debt.
His eyes flared with annoyance. "You think that is what I am after? You think I am looking for work as your hired hand?"
"How the hell would I know?" she snapped back at him, even though she did know.
"Because you know me, damn it," he growled.
"You're wrong about that. I thought I did once, but I was wrong," she shot back and left him on the porch while she went back inside, hearing him curse her softly as she shut the door.
He spent the day in physical labor, trying to tire out his body enough to still his mind. He hauled, chopped, dragged and cleared until his arms felt like lead weights.
When the sun went down and the horses were fed, there had been no sign of Lou since morning. Alone, his mind kept racing, remembering and rehashing the last conversations he had had with Kid, the last conversations he would ever have with Kid. His damned mind hadn't shut off for two full days now.
Thinking about the last time he had seen Kid inevitably brought his thoughts around to the last time he had seen Lou before she left Rock Creek.
He tried to avoid that memory at all costs. Avoiding that memory was, he supposed, the reason he had misjudged her reaction to him showing up here.
"Damn it," he hissed at last. He got off his bedroll on the bare tack room bunk despite the protests of his muscles, dressing again and jamming his hat on his head.
He rode out towards town a few minutes later, saw the curtain on the bunkhouse window pull back and fall again as she watched him go.
"Don't get your hopes up. I'm comin' back," he muttered out loud.
Three shots of whiskey later, his mind was still buzzing with the harsh words and blows he and Kid had traded in those final months before all-out war. Worse than that was the memory of Lou's white face in agony; the last glimpse he'd had of her. He clenched his teeth against the pain the thoughts inflicted, ordered another drink.
When the pretty dark-haired whore sidled up to him, he started to send her away with a sharp word, then changed his mind.
Upstairs, he buried himself in her mindlessly. He found release both of body and mind for a minute, but as always he felt vaguely dissatisfied and guilty afterwards for using the girl curled against his side, though she seemed pleased enough with him and herself.
He didn't ever know what to say to women like her anymore. She was not what he wanted; they never were. Her hair was too dark, eyes too light, limbs too long, body too curvy, manner too practiced. She smelled of something too flowery. Lou had smelled faintly of clean soap and oranges under the dust yesterday when he had held her for that brief moment.
But Lou hated him from the looks of it, had some cause to, he supposed. Even if she hadn't, she certainly was not his, so he wasn't sure what the hell else a man was supposed to do.
At least this way he couldn't disappoint another woman expecting him to be something or someone he couldn't be. Better this way for everyone, he told himself though he knew Rachel disapproved and Emma sure as hell would have. His sister too. He didn't venture a guess what Lou would think, but it wouldn't have been good.
In defiance of that thought, he had the girl again, and several more drinks before his brains felt too soft to form a solid thought. Stumbling slightly several hours later, he pushed away from the bar and turned, walking right into a young man that had stopped behind him.
"Sorry," he slurred and started around the man.
"So you're the big gun the widow hired?" the man asked, blocking his way.
"I ain't..." he started to mutter, then decided there was no point. Shaking his head, he growled, "let me pass."
"Don't guess I blame you for looking for pleasure in town. My father said the widow looked used up…though I seen her riding the land a few times and if she can sit a horse like that, I bet she'd sit a man just fine too."
Blood rushed in Jimmy's ears and like a reflex, he swung sloppily at the man in front of him. His blow was ducked easily, and the stranger drove a fist into Jimmy's jaw, knocking him to the ground.
He chuckled as Jimmy tried to pick himself up.
"Some protection. This will be easier than we thought."
"You leave her alone!" Jimmy threatened, the room spinning. "I'll sober up sooner or later."
The man shook his head, disgust and amusement in his expression. "Be seeing you...Wild Bill."
Jimmy said a very impolite word, and climbed to his feet as the man left the saloon.
He was glad his palomino remembered the way home, because he wasn't sure he would have. It took him three tries to climb down from the saddle. He lurched up the bunkhouse stairs, had trouble deciding how high to pick up his feet at each new riser.
"Jesus, I'm pretty drunk," he admitted aloud to his horse over his shoulder.
He fell against the bunkhouse door, trying to push it open, found himself confused when it was bolted. It had rarely ever been locked in his memory.
"Open up, dammit, it's me!" He yelled, beating at the door hard with his fist. When there was no answer, he howled in annoyance and slammed his shoulder into the door, trying to break the lock.
It didn't budge and he hit it again, then leaned heavily against it, breathing hard.
When the door suddenly swung open, he lost his balance and pitched headfirst over the threshold, his chest and cheek breaking his fall when his hands were too slow to catch him. Groaning, he rolled over and looked up, squinting against the low light of the lantern as if it was the blazing sun.
Lou was standing over him, wearing a white nightgown. Despite the fact it covered her from neck to toes, the light behind her outlined her shape beneath the lightweight garment. He stared up at her for a long moment, wanting her despite the fact he'd just had the other woman in hopes of putting her out of his mind.
When his gaze eventually made it up to her pale face, he saw her eyes were wild in terror and that she held her gun with a trembling hand.
She knew it was him, but she was scared anyway, and that realization would have dropped him if he hadn't already been laying there on her floor. Her fear of him sobered him more quickly than cold water to the face.
He'd just...forgotten.
Forgot he didn't live in this house that had been one of his only real homes, forgot that she was there alone, that she had come from a war-torn state where any approaching individual was likely to be a threat to her safety or her life.
Then again, his whole goal tonight had been to forget.
He never, in a hundred years, would have wanted to make her afraid. Shame burned into him, hot and consuming.
"I'm...I'm…Lou, I'm..." he stuttered, laying there on the floor under her gun.
"Drunk. You're blind drunk. And you smell like a whore," she snarled at him, though her voice still trembled in held-over fear.
"Yeah," he acknowledged, and struggled to pick himself up.
She didn't help him, backing away from him, keeping her gun in her hand.
"Lou, I wouldn't ever hurt you...I just...I forgot I didn't live here anymore, all right? You caint think I would do you harm." he said when he stood more or less on his own feet, with the help of the doorway.
She still said nothing, her face and hair still wild, her hand still white-knuckled around the gun. He thought he saw the glint of tears in her eyes, but he found he couldn't meet her gaze squarely enough to be sure.
Slurring another string of apologies, he let himself out of the bunkhouse, closing the door behind him and flinching when he heard her immediately bolt the door behind him again.