Author's Note: This is probably one of my favorite parts within this story. If you're wondering how Arthur experienced that last part, well, you'll find out in chapter 8. :)
Chapter VII: Confiding
"I just hope this isn't gonna end like last time. In Valentine."
Waiting for Ann to go in, Arthur was holding the saloon's door open. "You mean that night I met that woman that ain't Lenny?" Still it was some kind of alias he had used for her every now and then whenever he was quizzed about this damn stab wound. It was probably better that way, he thought. Maybe otherwise someone from the gang would have gone after her, if they knew her real name.
"How about the woman that ain't Lenny buying you a drink?" She was tickled; he could hear the amusement in her voice when she asked him while she went over to the barkeeper. "Beer, whisky, anything else?"
Arthur chose the beer; after all it was still late afternoon. He'd save the good stuff until later and besides he also still needed to be clear-headed to ponder all the possible solutions to Miss McBrady's debt problem. Once she would tell the whole story to him, that is. For now she was acting so heavily tense that it almost made himself nervous, too. Continuously looking forwards and backwards, she seemed so relieved at once when she finally had two bottles of beer in her hands.
"So… we wanna take a seat?" She pointed at the empty tables near the saloon entrance. "It's going to be a long story, Mister Morgan."
Simply nodding, he gave her the advantage and then followed her to one of the tables where he sat down opposite to her. "So what's it with the Del Lobos, Miss McBrady?" He was ready for anything.
"Huh." The bounty hunter swallowed hard, fiddling around with her bottle. "Okay. Actually… it was my father who was doing business with them. You must know I grew up as a farmer's daughter, Mister Morgan. He had a small ranch near Gaptooth Ridge. My mother died when I was little and my father did… Well, he did everything to pull us through. He was a good and honorable man, doing his everything for me."
Arthur listened to her, feelings mingled. On the one hand her telling about a mother who had passed when she was only a child really stirred him up due to his own childhood, on the other hand he found himself admiring this man who had raised such an independent and brave woman that the woman who ain't Lenny was. He also couldn't escape the feeling that this story was going to become more tragic and tragic.
"Someday he died," she quietly continued. "I had to take over his ranch."
"Del Lobos, too?" Arthur asked just as quietly.
But Miss McBrady wagged her head. "No, it was… just a small group of… outlaws. I don't know. They wanted money and he wouldn't give it to them so they killed him. Coldblooded."
"You watched him die?"
"Yeah, I did. It was… not quite the experience I ever wanted to have."
Arthur lapsed into silence once again. There were so many familiar components within her story that matched his own life. No matter how but somehow he would find a way to help her dealing with the Del Lobo gang. Or parts of it.
"Anyway, there came a day a man named Diandro Sánchez and his men showed up at the ranch. He wanted money, a lot of money. Told me my father owed it to them. I had no choice but to pay them a small amount. They went off, gave me a new ultimatum. I worked my ass off but-" She ruffled through her hair. "Given time that goddamn ranch didn't yield a shit. My cattle were dying from disease and I had no money to keep things running."
"Life's pretty much fucked ya up, Miss. Sorry to hear that." And Arthur meant that. Probably everyone had their crosses to bear. At least he was now understanding the origin of her hatred towards outlaws and he couldn't really blame her for that.
"But then, Mister Morgan, I headed out and started working as a bounty huntress. More cash in less time and I could pay that asshole of Sánchez a second time."
"Sounds to me that ya into them for several thousand dollars." Because paying someone over a number of years didn't support any other conclusion.
"Not anymore but I also won't be able to pay the rest next week, I'm afraid. Don't think I can put off Sánchez again."
Eventually leaning back, Arthur digested everything she had just told him about her life. That was being fucked up by definition and there was only one obvious solution he saw for her problem: eliminating the Del Lobos. Dutch would most likely wring his neck for provoking a conflict with them while they still were in permanent vendetta with the damn O'Driscolls but then again… who would ever notice who'd killed them if there wasn't anybody left who could tell a shit?
"Listen, Miss," Arthur breathed heavily, still observing her. "I cannot help ya with money but I can offer to kill 'em. Depending on how many they're, of course. I'm not too bad at snipin'."
His company nodded in uncertainty. "I bet you're not but I cannot ask for that. I-"
"You ain't," he interrupted her. "Because it's me offerin' help." Yeah, namely putting his own ass on the line just for some strange woman he had come to know while she was trying to kill him and therewith had deeply impressed him. This really shouldn't have happened and yet here he was, sitting on a table with that woman, trying to work things out for her.
It ain't your business, let her handle all this shit herself, Arthur tried to convince himself, very well aware that it was of no avail. He wanted to help; he somehow felt responsible for her simply because – to his mind – he wasn't any better than the Del Lobos or at least that guy who called himself Sánchez. It might as well could've been him who collected the debts from her now, if her father had caught Mister Strauss instead. Looks like I ain't that bad in the end.
"Fine then, Mister Morgan. I'll get back to you if I didn't come up with a better idea until next week. Really appreciate your offer but for now…" Miss McBrady slightly smiled, thumping her bottle down on the table. "I'd rather like not to talk about all this shit anymore. Maybe you've some better stories than I? About robbing coaches and banks and stuff." She wiggled her eyebrows, definitely becoming more relaxed now.
"Nah, never! Why would I do that?" Arthur drank his beer, dead serious, yet he was fighting himself hard from cracking up, though.
"I thought you were speakin' from experience earlier." That bounty hunter was so entering into his sarcasm! Grinning broadly, she then suddenly glanced up and Arthur already thought that the newly relaxed atmosphere would have gone again. It turned out that she was just looking for the barkeeper. "Gonna get us a new drink, gimme a second. Unless you're out of time, Mister Morgan."
"Takin' some time from not robbing coaches and banks, ya know? Keep it coming, Miss." He watched her walking off, almost automatically thinking about how different she was from Mary. Heck, every goddamn woman of Dutch's gang was different from Mary! If it weren't for that goddamn letter she had sent him, he now wouldn't hold thoughts like this in his mind.
"Arthur!"
"Jesus fucking Christ," the outlaw murmured when he suddenly spotted Lenny at the saloon entrance, waving at him. Of all things! Camp gossip was confirmed once that kid would spy the woman that wasn't him. Besides, whenever someone was sent to look for him there was naturally a high chance that some genius had come up with some shitty plan that most certainly wouldn't go wrong.
Lenny took a seat in front of him – just where Miss McBrady was sitting a few seconds ago – and literally beamed at him.
"So what's it?" Arthur asked abruptly, hoping that it wouldn't be a big deal.
"Bill sent me."
"Of course." So it was.
"He says he's at a bigger thing. Maybe ya should come and hear it yourse-"
"Here we go. Only the good stuff." Interrupting the both of them, Ann suddenly put a whole whisky bottle on the table. Only then she seemed to notice the new member and looked at Arthur, falling immediately quiet.
Lenny apparently did so, too. Confused, he was looking back and forth between them until he eventually realized that he was obviously bothering.
Raising his eyebrows full of expectation, Arthur shrugged his shoulders in response. "Go 'n tell Bill he can fuck off. Today I ain't goin' nowhere. Maybe tomorrow."
"Okay?" Still being confused, Lenny continued looking back and forth. "Well, err… Good to see you getting' over your Mary then, I guess?" He stood up, making room for the woman. "And… sorry, ya know? For… dsturbin'."
"Goodbye, Lenny," Arthur firmly said, finally bringing his buddy to leave them alone. After that he shook his head. Because justifying himself to everyone was so much fun.
In the meanwhile MissBrady had sat down and already put two glasses on the table, too. Pouring the whisky, she asked as a sideline: "Who's Mary? Your wife? Girlfriend?"
Damn, fortunately that woman wasn't curious as hell. He gulped down the first glass. "Sorta." When she still looked at him in anticipation, Arthur sighed. "Some kind of foolish love story and I fucked it up a long time ago, to say at least."
Thankfully understanding, she smiled. "Okay, won't ask further, Mister Morgan."
The late afternoon went by quickly and the sun had already set when Ann was still listening to all the shitty stuff Morgan told her – stories about robberies that had gone completely wrong, seemingly unguarded coaches that turned out to be guarded very well; stories about damn O'Driscolls. In fact everything she would have expected from the life of an outlaw and somehow it even didn't upset her anymore. Maybe it was due to the alcohol, maybe it was because she thought she'd understand his way of life to a large extent.
There were questions on her part, though. Many questions she wasn't comfortable to ask because she very quickly had realized that he wasn't quite the kind of man who talked about his personal life a lot. As a result Ann thought it was probably better to keep it with that.
At times she found him watching her as carefully as he was doing right now. "What's it, Mister Morgan?" she eventually pumped.
"That scar," he simply answered, half-drunk. "Where's it from? Still wonderin'."
The scar on her face, of course. It would always stick out a mile, even if she persuaded herself that it wasn't that striking. "What ya think?" she asked, raising her whisky glass.
"Well, I think it was Del Lobos."
"You're a smart man, Mister Morgan." Ann paused for breath. "Marked me when I wasn't able to pay that one time. It's not too bad, is it?"
Before Morgan could even reply another man came to a stop next to their table. Due to his stumbling she could tell that he was drunk like a motherfucker. Pointing at her, the man slurred: "Such a pretty girl! And ya name's…?"
Irritated, Ann turned her head and looked at the guy. She was just about to let out some nasty comment when suddenly he jumped back, face all terrified.
"Damn, look at ya face! No offence, Miss!"
He then bluntly moved on to the next table, leaving Ann with some kind of shock. "Well," she smiled bitterly, raising her glass again. "It is that bad."
"Want me to beat the shit outta that fool?"
"No, Mister Morgan, if I wanna beat the shit outta him, I'll do it myself. Thanks, though." Grinning, Ann refilled her glass once more and finished it off. "You still have that pocket knife by the way?"
Morgan reached for his satchel and pulled out a small stabbing weapon. "Heirloom?" he asked, still holding it tightly in his hand.
"Yes, it was my father's." Now it was Ann who watched him closely. After all she was glad that it still existed.
Suddenly Arthur Morgan was holding the knife out to her. "Here."
She took it, pursing her lips due to mixed emotions within her. It was time to quit the damn alcohol for tonight. Way too much input for today as a whole. She'd just go to bed. All she needed was a room.
Ann banged her hands on the table – and missed it, bumping her head nearly on the edge. "Goddamn! Okay, Mister Morgan. If ya don't mind. I need to rest. Day's been long." A bit unsteady on her feet, she stood up, giving him a charming smile. "Thanks for the knife, all the stories and the… drinks." She hiccupped.
"I was drinkin' at ya cost, Miss," Morgan smirked, also standing up, ready to possibly catch her if she tumbled.
"However." Ann clapped him on the back. "You a good man. Jus' need to get… a room. Everything's good."
"Yeah, yeah," the outlaw assured while he carried her towards somewhere. Hell, the bounty huntress didn't even realize how drunk she actually was until she had decided to go to bed. She heard him buy a room for her and then felt him carry her somewhere again. A door was opened.
"I'm so... fuckin' sorry, Mister Morgan," she whispered, landing on a bed.
"Ya better sleepin' off," his voice sounded and suddenly it appeared so far. Her boots were taken off.
"There's a note in ma satchel. With the meetin' spot… for the delivery." Dizzily, Ann looked at him und held out her satchel to him. Crocked, she smiled at him, closing her eyes again. "I never drink that much, okay?"
"Nah, I'm sure ya ain't." A long pause and then: "Don't think I'm supposed to read this… letter."
"The other note," Ann groaned. "Not that fuckin' letter to my dad."
"Whatever ya say, Miss. We'll talk 'bout that tomorrow."
Apparently he was about to leave, so she instinctively grabbed him by his suspenders when passing by. And although she didn't want to pull him close she somehow did; he ended up on top of her, fortunately using his forearms for support. "Sorry," Ann then spoke under her breath, glancing at him. Only now that he was that close to her she actually noticed how beautiful he was – that bad man that he was, or at least pretended to be. She reached for his face and kissed him, bending her legs under him. His hat fell off his head.
Feeling this urge didn't seem right; he was an outlaw after all, an outlaw just like the ones who had killed her father and who were now threatening her. Ann didn't understand herself anymore. This man had cared for her problems, had spared her life when in fact her time had come. He had done so much for her…
His hands grabbing her ass tightly and pressing her against his boner, she heard him murmuring next to her ear: "You'll regret this…"
Yeah. Maybe she would. Tomorrow, but not now. Right now it was the right thing. So she searched for his lips again, in desperate need for another kiss. All this pure lust was making her feel so free. Like she hadn't in such a long time.
"Arthur…"
But Arthur suddenly broke away, releasing his grip on her to get on his feet again. "This…" He shook his head. "This ain't right, Miss McBrady." And he still kept his distance from her by calling her by her last name. "Just… sleep it off. Without me."
Ann watched him leave the room without another word. Asking herself what had just gone wrong, she turned onto her side and closed her eyes in disbelief. What a complete messy day! The sudden coldness and solitude were haunting her again, embracing her. Just like every night.
