Chapter 4

Myra watched the gang members carefully. She was always observant, especially in times of duress, and her night had been full of it. A grim evening had come upon the group, Lenny returning in a frantic state, sans Micah. The younger man had come into camp yelling, clutching onto Dutch's coat as he told him Micah had been arrested by the Sheriff in Strawberry.

Myra and Arthur, along with a couple other gang members, were not all too disappointed by the news. It wasn't of much import to them that Micah be released. The slimy bastard was always picking fights and annoying the women, and it was coming back to bite him as no one wanted to volunteer to act as a rescue crew. Dutch and Arthur had exchanged a few words while the group dispersed, Myra returning to her previous task of helping Sadie shuck ears of corn.

"You know, I'm about done with all this kitchen work. Ain't we supposed to be outlaws?" Sadie complained once Pearson was out of earshot, and Myra shrugged.

"I know it ain't ideal. Believe me, when Arthur first brought me to the gang- after Dutch deemed me worthy- I did the kitchen work for weeks before they'd let me do nothin'. Wouldn't even let me ride with Arthur on jobs. Me and him had to take trips when they were in between jobs so I could learn to shoot and ride better." Myra told her. She did feel for Sadie. The woman really wasn't cut out for camp chores, and she was itching to be out with the boys. Myra understood. She had been the same way. Left out, told to chop the vegetables while the boys tried to rake in the cash.

"I know how'ta shoot." Sadie tossed a shuck aside, setting her freshly-peeled cob on a tray to be cut and stored for later.

"Do ya now? Good to hear. Means I ain't gotta argue wit'chu like I did this one." Arthur's low voice came from behind Myra. She didn't turn to him, only flicked her eyes briefly in his direction.

"Shut it." Myra grumbled. Arthur's hands rested on the silver and gold clasp of his gun belt as he looked at her.

"Dutch wants me to go into town and help Lenny relax. Ain't gonna be back 'til late." Arthur leaned one hip against Pearson's butcher table.

"Alright. You goin' now or after supper?" Myra looked to him as she peeled yet another ear. His hat hung low over his eyes, and he was dressed in a tooled leather vest and black duster.

"Soon as Lenny's changed. We'll pick up somethin' at the saloon for dinner." Arthur took a step towards Myra, who instinctively inclined her cheek in his direction.

After a quick kiss on the cheek and a sneaky peck to her lips, Arthur was headed towards Lenny's tent. His duster swayed gently in the wind, and the swagger in his walk only served to accentuate his attractiveness.

"I miss my husband." Sadie admitted, finally finished with the corn.

Myra's heart skipped at her admission, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the open gestures of affection. "Sadie, I'm sorry…"

"No, don't start. It ain't your fault." Sadie smirked, lowering her voice. "You guys kinda remind me of my husband and I, actually. It's nice. At least someone 'round here actually likes their partner."

Her comment was an obvious jab at Molly, who was nothing more than a plaything for Dutch when his bed was cold. She treated the other women as if they were beneath her, and it had gotten under Sadie's skin right quick. Myra couldn't help but agree, though no one would ever vocalize their opinion and face Dutch's wrath.

"Sometimes, I suppose I do like him. But take it from me, Arthur has his moments."

The Next Morning...

"You alive, Arthur? Arthur?"

Arthur was not exactly sure where he was or what was going on. Lenny's voice grated on his ears, and sunlight beat down on his eyelids with a vengeance. His stomach rolled as he came further into consciousness, and the headache got worse with every breath.

"...Shut up."

Lenny kept up talking, but it was gibberish to him.

"Shut up." Arthur growled. "I wanna die."

He opened his eyes enough to see, and haphazardly swung his legs until his feet hit the floor. Arthur sat up shakily, running a hand over his face. "Where are… oh shit. What'd we do?"

"I don't know." Lenny countered, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

The iron bars of jail cells surrounded them on every side, and Arthur could feel the cool metal of his cot through his jeans.

"Me neither. Shit!"

The deputy watching the front desk turned to them, just as the door opened. "You pair of degenerates…"

"Degenerates?! I'll say!" The enraged voice was terrifyingly familiar and Arthur locked eyes with Lenny.

"We're in trouble now, ain't we?" The younger man sighed. Arthur nodded, letting himself fall back into the cot.

Myra stormed over the cells, pointing a finger between the two men. Clad in black trousers and a deep purple button down shirt, she was intimidating in her own way despite her short stature. Two pearl-handled .45 pistols were strapped to her waist with a black leather gun belt.

"You two are goddamn fools! A couple drinks my ass. Can't let you boys go nowhere unsupervised, I tell ya what!"

Myra was all piss and vinegar, with blonde curls tumbling about her shoulders. Normally Arthur would find it incredibly attractive, but at the moment he feared too much for his and Lenny's safety.

"There's a fine for drunken violence in this town." The deputy spoke up, and Myra gave the boys a pointed look. "Y'all are lucky no one was killed."

"Hey, we didn't start a thing." Arthur sat back up, snarling at the man behind the desk.

"Yes you did."

"Well… I don't remember." He waved the man off, ignoring Myra where she stood with hands on her hips.

"Ten dollars and you're outta here. Any of you got any money?"

Lenny started to fish around in his jacket while Myra stood unmoved. Her narrowed blue eyes were trained on Arthur. The man snorted at her attitude, going back to his position of laying on the cot.

"You know what? I ain't goin' with that crazy ass woman, you can leave me here." Arthur grumbled tiredly into the meager pillow provided in the cell. His eyes drifted shut, body excited at the prospect of a proper rest.

"Goddamn it, you dumb…" Myra's words trailed off, and the next thing Arthur knew his cell was creaking open. "Let's go!"

Ready to take a real nice cat nap, Arthur was yanked back into reality by a hand latching onto the back of his suspenders. Myra dragged him up, and Arthur was surprised at how dizzy he still was. Whether that was due to lack of food consumption or an excessive amount of vomiting, he was unsure. His body towered over Myra, and she grudgingly allowed him to lean on her.

Lenny, on the other hand, was scampering away from her wrath as soon as the deputy unlocked his cell.

"Smart man." Arthur grunted as they made their way into the morning sunshine outside the Sheriff's Office. "How'd you figure we was here, anyway?"

Myra's answer was initially drowned out by Lenny's vomiting, causing her to turn up her nose. "Lovely."

"Jesus… Boy can't hold his liquor." Arthur joked, sitting against one of the support beams for the overhang. Myra leapt onto the mucky ground and whistled shrilly for her horse.

"Neither can you, apparently. Actin' like drunken fools! Is you boys crazy? This ain't exactly what we need right now." Myra grasped her thoroughbred's reins as it strolled up, giving the mare a brief pat on the shoulder.

"Dutch told me to." Arthur defended. "Can't I just sit here and feel sorry for myself?"

"How's about you boys do that back at camp, huh? Your horse already found his way back." Myra walked to stand in front of Arthur. His sitting position on the porch allowed her to be about even with his face when standing on the ground.

"I suppose. Lenny, you comin'?" Arthur looked for his friend around Myra.

"Way ahead of you." Lenny was climbing onto his horse to head back to camp before the words were even out of his mouth.

"Get a move on." Myra snarked, slapping Lenny's stallion on the ass roughly to get him moving. The young man let out a groan at the sudden movements, doubling over to vomit over his mount's shoulder.

"Why the hell'd his horse stay?"

Myra smirked, patting Arthur on the shoulder. "Probably cause it was actually hitched good. Now come on, Morgan."

Once he was in Myra's saddle, said woman pulled herself up to sit in front of him. She scoffed. "You smell like a damn distillery."

Arthur pulled his hat off and shoved it into a saddlebag as Myra spurred the horse. He dropped his forehead until it rested against the back of Myra's neck, attempting the block out the light and quell his stomach. He could feel the tense muscles beneath Myra's shirt and felt a brief pang of guilt.

She had probably been worried when his horse trotted riderless back into camp. Myra just had a hard time conveying her emotions without anger being the prominent characteristic. The tongue-lashing she would give him was only a cover-up to prevent her worry from showing through.

"Sorry." Arthur murmured into her hair.

Myra relaxed fractionally. "I bet."

He allowed his nose to sink further into the hair at her neck, settling in for the fifteen-minute ride to camp. His free arm looped around Myra's waist, tugging her gently into his chest.

"I'm tryin' to ride, darlin'." Myra tossed over her shoulder.

"Hush up, woman." Arthur's voice was muffled by her skin, and Myra giggled as he kissed her exposed flesh. "You're lookin' gorgeous this mornin', know that?"

"You're still drunk." Myra elbowed him half-heartedly as he planted hot, open-mouthed kisses on the back of her neck. "Come on now, I'mma smell like an opened bottle if you don't quit."

Arthur pressed his hips against her rear, and Myra's eyes flicked to him with something akin to lust. They had not had a night to themselves since a string of storms had come in and the tents were forced to be closer together in camp to prevent a disaster. Wagons had been positioned on the outside to block wind, with canvas in the center to avoid being swept away.

Myra had been rather fine with the move up until the moment Arthur was half-drunk on the back of her horse and grinding against her ass. Something sparked, and desire built up in her stomach, waiting to be fulfilled. She couldn't help the unconscious reaction to push her rear back into Arthur's pelvis as they rode. His breath hitched as teeth sunk into her earlobe

For him, it might have been the alcohol remnants in his system, but Arthur couldn't quit thinking about how good she had looked storming into the Sheriff's office. And how good she would look kissing him back in the woods. "Myra, why don't you pull off the trail for a minute?"

Arthur thought she was going to refuse at first and maintain her willpower, but the mare came to an abrupt halt when his hand brushed her inner thigh. Her reaction only spurred Arthur on, large hands rubbing up and down her sides from breast to hip.

"Damn you, Arthur!" Myra nudged the thoroughbred towards a quiet patch of woods, all the while Arthur's hand crept further up her leg. Once they were far enough from the trail, Myra spun just about a full circle to grasp at his vest. She sat backwards in the saddle, mouth inches from his.

"I thought I smelled." He jabbed, leaning closer to the fiery blonde.

"You do. I think taking your clothes off will help though."

Despite his headache, Arthur decided that the sound of Myra's laughter would never cease to be a wondrous hangover cure.