12
"Oh, it's not as bad as all that!" Francine admonished as she followed them out the front door. "Lots of mail-order brides have to do this. You'll be fine once you get there."
"Once I get there?!" Ianto squealed. "But my foot's not even healed yet!"
"What has that got to do with anything?" Francine scolded. "Stop your fussing, child, and be grateful Sheriff Harkness was able to make arrangements so quickly!"
"But …"
"I'll not hear another word about it, Miss Jones," Mr. Harkness told her in a stern voice. His arms were incredibly strong, and he carried her down the street without effort. "It's all been arranged."
Ianto couldn't help it as her exhaustion and frustration caught up with her. She began to cry. He was sending her off without a second thought, and she couldn't even walk! How cruel could the man be?
Too tired and downhearted to argue further, she turned her head into his shoulder and sobbed out her shame and heartache. Besides, people were watching them, and she couldn't stand the humiliation of the ordeal.
Now the whole town would know he didn't want her!
She finally glanced up and saw the Hopper and its driver waiting for them. She never thought she'd ever be one to beg, but now she was considering it.
The driver of the Hopper-coach smiled and waved at them as they drew closer. Mr. Harkness gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement.
Ianto could stand it no longer. "Please, Mr. Harkness, please, I can't! I just can't! Please don't make me go!"
He stopped. "What are you so upset about? A man's got to do what a man's got to do! Owen, Tosh, Francine and I all discussed it, and we felt this was the best thing all the way around."
Maybe it was the laudanum.
Maybe it was simply the fatigue at spending each waking moment trying to figure out a way to keep what was happening now from happening at all. Whatever it was, it caused every pent-up emotion she'd stuffed down inside herself over the last few days to suddenly erupt. She wished with all her might she could stop – it was humiliating. But she couldn't.
"For the love of God, woman!" Mr. Harkness exclaimed. "You'd think I was taking you to hang!"
Ianto tried to speak but couldn't, the sobbing was that bad.
"Whacha do, Sheriff?" the Hopper-coach driver asked. "Accidently shoot her again?"
"No! Now move aside so I can get her settled."
Ianto sucked big gulps of air, so much so she felt as if she might be sick. She did her best to wipe away her tears as the awful, beastly, horrible Mr. Harkness made his way straight to the …
"What?" Ianto exclaimed, her despair suddenly flashing into anger.
"You were the one who shot me? You beast! You cur!" she screamed, and began to flail away at him with her fists. She was so enraged, she didn't even notice that he'd walked past the Hopper-coach to a wagon parked just beyond it.
"Stop it, woman! What are you, crazy?" Jack had to stop walking just to keep from dropping her as she tried to cuff him around. "I told you I made arrangements! What are you so upset about? It's not like its improper or anything!"
"Improper?" Ianto screeched. "Who are you to talk about what's improper?"
She tried to take another swing at his head.
Jack caught her wrist before her hand could connect. "Stop it! Look, it was an accident, all right? I dropped my gun! Now how are we supposed to take care of you if you're screaming and fighting like a woman possessed?"
The words "take care of you" somehow penetrated the fog of rage around her brain.
"Wh-what?" She blinked, and suddenly realized he wasn't putting her on the Hopper-coach as she'd assumed. "What … what exactly are you … doing?"
Jack was finally able to reach the back of the wagon. Gray was there, watching them warily as he tossed some blankets into the wagon bed, then jumped up himself.
"Isn't it obvious, you silly woman? I'm taking you home!"
"Home?" Not Cardiff?
"Yes, home! My home! Now do you think you can stop knocking me around for a minute?"
Ianto thought she might faint. Not the Hopper. Home. His home. And soon … her home too?
She stared numbly at Jack Harkness as Gray quickly spread the blankets over some hay. Mr. Harkness stared right back, his jaw set as he shook his head, then gently handed her up to his brother's outstretched arms. Without saying a word, Gray settled her onto the waiting blankets, covered her with several more, then climbed over the wagon seat and sat.
Mr. Harkness took the satchel from Francine, tossed it into the wagon, then hopped up himself and sat beside her. He looked down at her briefly before he tucked the blankets in more tightly, then put an arm around her and pulled her against him.
"Let's go," he said, his jaw set as before.
Ianto audibly gulped. "I … I thought …"
"You thought what? I'd really like to know, because I've never seen someone make such a fuss over having to give up their room to a couple of wounded men. But they're my men and I want them cared for proper."
"Your men were hurt?" she asked on a whisper, still not over the shock of not being sent away.
"Shot, unfortunately. Feel bad about it, but at least they're not dead. Both are married."
She stared at him, her mouth open in a continued state of utter disbelief. "You're taking me to … your house, then?"
Mr. Harkness looked at her, his face now a mask of concern mixed with something else. Was he about to laugh at her? He held her to him a bit tighter and yelled. "Don't bother sparing the power cells, Gray – let's get on home!"
