A/N- Okay so this is my longest chapter yet, which I hope is a good thing, and I had the great pleasure of collaborating on the Maddie part of the chapter with Scribblez09, who is an amazing writer who's stories I'm guessing you've all read. I was gone a little longer this time, finishing up the school year, but now I'm back and there's only 5 chapter of Some Trees Flourish left! I'm so sad! But as always I'd like to thank you for reading and reviewing. Specifically, thank you StoryofHonor, AmateurSketch, McLean, Lacy, and Scribblez for being so constantly supportive :) And KenwaysFrye, I can't tell you how much I appreciate you coming back to read my story again! I do remember smiling a lot from your last review and I'm glad that you still approve of the direction the story is going after so long! To everyone else, I hope you enjoy reading this and that it's not too long and/or boring.
Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own Red Dead Redemption or any of its characters. The only parts of this story I own are the plot lines that come after the ending of the game as well as my original characters. The content of this story was not meant to insult anyone in any way, shape or form. Rated T for violence and coarse language.
Chapter Track: Stay Alive -José González
Chapter 28: The Soldiers' Repose
The next several minutes pass by in a series of flashes as I drift, zombie-like, in and out of the events of my own life.
Jack doesn't come back.
I can't breathe.
Juarez convinces me to help him get back to the Fort.
I have to tell the Governor what happened.
Everyone is yelling at once.
I can't make anything out.
When I talk to the Governor he drags me and every other marshal he can find into the meeting room.
They're all arguing, they're all fighting, and Governor Bates has to shout to get their attention, something I've never seen him do before. I flinch as the volume of his voice strikes me, rejoining the world of the living just in time to hear him speak.
"As most of you are already aware," Bates is saying, "Fordham's men have made their move. Harris, Masterson, and Charles Vanderbilt were taken from us just under an hour ago."
"Masterson?!" A short, mustachioed marshal shouts, obviously surprised. The others seem to feel similarly about this news and I come to the conclusion that whoever Masterson was, he's not the sort of man who would get kidnapped without a struggle.
"Yes. And unfortunately, due to these abductions, it is likely that Archer Fordham will soon know everything there is to know about the actions we plan to take over the next few days."
Clearly the Governor believes that they're going to torture the information out of Charlie if they can, and my breathing becomes strained once again at the thought. What if they got Jack? I can't do this without him, I can't survive not knowing whether he's in danger, whether he's even alive.
And even if Jack's safe, what about Charlie? He's my friend. I've never felt that burgeoning urge to protect him the way I try to protect Elizabeth or James, but even so. At the very least I'm sure that Fordham won't kill him. He's too valuable.
As the marshals begin yelling over one another once more, I turn my gaze on the Governor. His hair is rumpled in the back as if he's run his fingers through it one too many times, his skin is red and feverish with what I have to assume is panic. I don't think I've ever seen him like this before. He used to look like a carved statue, a perfect silhouette of what others strive to be, but now it's very clear to me that he's just a man. A moment passes before he sucks down a deep breath and tries to quiet the marshals around us- mostly men, one or two women- again. I feel a soft touch on my shoulder and whirl around to see Wade standing behind me, his hand already moving down to wrap itself around my elbow. His father is here too, positioned just a few feet away from us.
"Thank God you're alright." He tells me, his tone reflecting his joy.
"I wasn't hurt." I say evasively. I don't want to think too much about the other, metaphysical forms pain can take. Wade glances around us briefly before continuing.
"Where's Jack?" He asks, and I freeze up again. He seems to read the answer from the expression on my face. In another minute or so the Governor has calmed the other marshals down enough that I can hear him talking, but as he explains the situation we've found ourselves in I feel them getting angry again.
"We're running out of options." He says grimly, his hands bunched into fists on the table in front of him. "At this juncture, our only choice is to follow through with the original plan. They won't be expecting it and it's the only possible way to get our people back alive."
He's right. For the first time since he told us about this plan, I'm convinced that it's the only way we might make it out of this with our lives intact. It's too late to back down now that they've got Charlie, they'll surely know everything about us by tomorrow morning. They'll attack us first, if they can.
Most importantly, I could never forgive myself if Jack was in danger and I didn't go after him.
Unfortunately a good portion of the marshals don't seem to share my sentiment, dissenters I recognize because the lot of them have been the least willing of anyone to follow the Governor's orders since way back when the fighting first started, stating that it was difficult for them to trust a man from Blackwater.
"You're walkin' us into a deathtrap." One of them, a younger marshal with reddish hair, says from his position nearby me. His allies mutter their agreements.
"Maybe," Governor Bates allows, "but that doesn't matter anymore. What happened tonight just proves how much danger every person in this Fort is in at any given time. We must act now while we still can."
"Or we could just hand you over to them." An older, heavyset marshal threatens. No. My lips set themselves in a snarl instinctively, my hands tensing of their own accord as I prepare myself to fight.
"I won't let you touch him." I hiss furiously, ignoring the sensation of Wade's fingers tightening around my arm.
"If you're under the delusion that we answer to you, little girl," the same heavyset marshal turns to address me, "you're mistaken. If turnin' him over might save New Austin's people then that's what we're gonna do."
"Are you really as stupid as you're comin' off right now?" I demand as I lurch a step closer to him, "You don't know Fordham! Now that he's seen what we're capable of, he's not gonna stop with just the Governor. He'll keep coming back until all of us are in jail or dead so you better shut the hell up and help us stop him!"
I don't mention that James is already on his way to Oklahoma in case the Governor decided not to share that bit of information with all of them. This warning of mine seems to resonate with most of the men gathered here, but this marshal- though I barely know him- seems intent on contradicting me.
"Effie, please, there's no need to-" the Governor tries to disarm the situation, but that same fucking marshal cuts him off.
"I'm gettin' sick of listenin' to you run your mouth." He spits at me. "The day I take orders from some dumb Blackwater bitch is the same Goddamn day hell's gonna freeze over!"
I can't help it. The tension building up in my body has blinded me so thoroughly that I don't realize what I'm doing until my fist is already halfway to his face.
To my surprise this punch- a reflex more than anything else- is powerful enough to send a resounding crack echoing through the room. Immediately the stocky marshal recoils from me, letting out a cry and clutching at his face as he goes. The blood streaming down through the gaps between his fingers- as well as the severe ache in my knuckles- tells me that I've successfully broken his nose. Everyone else in the room is frozen through, watching these ongoings in shocked silence, until Wade bursts into laughter.
"H-holy shit!" He manages to say in between snickers. "Nice right hook, Eff! Who knew you had it in you?"
A few other marshals seem to find the situation funny as well and this is probably what sets my aggressor off. He reels towards me, the lower half of his face completely covered in blood by now, and for a second I'm sure that he's going to try and hit me back. Then, suddenly, a tall, strong figure is standing in front of me, sheltering me from whatever danger may come. When I realize who it is that's come to my rescue, my knees nearly buckle under me out of relief. Jack. He's here, he's alive, and he's not visibly hurt in any way. Apparently I was too wrapped up in my confrontation to notice him come in. I suck down a shuddery breath as I commit the sight of him to memory as best as I can. I never want to be without him again.
"I wouldn't try anythin' if I were you." He growls, his words a threat. This irritating marshal might not be afraid of me, but he's certainly afraid of Jack. He steps back immediately and is caught around the shoulders by Mr. Johnson.
"You want me to escort him out of the room, Governor?" He asks politely, and the Governor nods. After this commotion, or perhaps because of it, the remaining marshals are much more willing to follow the Governor's lead than they were a few minutes ago. We finish the impromptu meeting quickly and send everyone off to resume their travel preparations. This leaves the Governor and Jack alone in the room with me and I waste no time throwing myself at the latter and wrapping my arms tightly around him, completely ignoring the aching of my fist in order to do so.
"First punchin' and now this?" He laughs, and I feel his fingers fluffing up my hair. "What's gotten into you?"
I pull away from him, though I keep my arms around him. "Forget that! Did you find Charlie?"
At this his expression falls and he looks between me and the Governor like he's ashamed. My joy at seeing Jack alive dissolves as I comprehend the situation. Perhaps Charlie's already been brought to Fordham. Perhaps he's decided to interrogate him personally.
"They're takin' him east by the looks of it. I couldn't catch up to them, Effie, I'm sorry."
The Governor shakes his head. "It wasn't your fault Mr. Marston. From what I've been told, they had a sizeable head start. They set up a trap and we walked right into it."
"A trap?" I repeat.
"Yes. I didn't want to say it in front of the others but I'm fairly certain that those people intended to draw us out and steal a few of us away from the very beginning. It's the only thing that makes sense." The Governor says with a frown. When he meets my gaze, however, he is smiling. "I must thank you for standing up for me the way you did, Effie. And for hitting that infuriating man. I've been wanting to do it myself for quite some time, but I doubted it would be appropriate.
"Moving forward, it seems that it's time for me to call Miss Ross in from the field- along with some of my other agents. We'll be needing their strength when the time comes for us to fight. I felt that I owed you a fair warning, Mr. Marston, and I hope you can behave yourself when she arrives."
Jack shoots the Governor a glower. "I'll behave myself if she will."
Governor Bates looks as if he'd very much like to answer this flippant remark with one of his own, but the mention of moving forward reminds me of something I'd neglected to mention earlier. I remove my arms from around Jack and turn to address the Governor.
"Governor, don't you think it's strange the way Charlie got captured?" I pose the question, unsure of how to put my thoughts into words. "Juarez was there, but he wasn't exactly helpful, if you know what I mean."
"I was thinkin' the exact same thing while I was out there." Jack says supportively.
He looks at Jack for a second before frowning at me. "What are you trying to say, Effie?"
"It's just…" I start, and then break off hesitantly. My suspicions are purely based on what I feel in my gut, I don't have any actual evidence to back them up. Still, I give it another try. "The way Juarez went down so easy seems weird to me. He's a marshal himself, isn't he? But he couldn't even handle a flesh wound."
For a moment Governor Bates is quiet, considering my words, it seems. He turns away from us and takes a few steps back towards the round table, his hands behind his back, his spine perfectly straight. Looking at him now, he seems much more collected than he did just a few minutes ago. I find that the sight soothes me, somehow.
"I think I can explain his vulnerability." He says, his back still turned to us. "Mr. Juarez has only been a marshal for a few months, you see. He has very little experience at his job." Abruptly he spins back around, his expression one of utmost confidence. "About this time a year ago, he was just a deputy in Chuparosa, Nuevo Paraíso, a brand new hire. He spoke out against President Reyes publically and was chased out of his own country for it.
"He crossed the border at Butter Bridge and some of my men picked him up as he entered the West Elizabeth territory. When he clarified his situation for me, I granted him asylum and gave him a job. He's one of my agents, and though I once swore to him that I would divulge this information to no one, I trust you both implicitly. He would not betray me even if his life depended on it, I promise you."
I exchange a glance with Jack once the Governor is done speaking and he seems to be thinking the same thing as me. There is no dishonesty in Bates's tone. He seems just as certain of Juarez as he is of the two of us, and of Maddie Ross, but I'm not sure if that's enough proof for me. I'm going to be keeping an eye on Juarez until this whole thing blows over and I'll be asking Jack to do the same later on.
"The two of you should get to packing." The Governor tells us then, his expression noticeably gentler. "I doubt you've had a chance to do so yet and we'll be heading out at first light."
"Right, we'll get it done." Jack promises.
"Thank you, Governor." I add, though I don't specify what exactly it is that I'm thanking him for. Everything, maybe. He seems to understand what I'm trying to say, regardless.
"Of course." He smiles. "I'll see you both in the morning."
He exits the room at a calm, easy pace, his composure back to its normal level. I have just a second to consider whether he's truly as self-assured as he appears or faking for my benefit before Jack pulls me back in for a tight embrace. The sudden jostling makes my hand twinge painfully again.
"Ow!" I exclaim, and Jack jumps back a bit, startled. When he looks at me questioningly, I show him my right hand. "I guess punching people in the face isn't easy on the fingers."
"Not for you." He smiles, taking my injured hand into his own. "You've got no upper body strength." Jack presses down lightly on one of my knuckles with his thumb and I grimace. His smile falters, a scowl taking its place. "I don't think it's broken, but the bruising's gonna make it pretty hard for you to hold your gun in two days. I swear, the next time I see that guy I'll punch him too. Probably knock him out."
I laugh lightly, curling my fingers around his. "Thanks, Jack. I hope you know how much I appreciate your upper body strength." Quickly I stand up on tip-toe to press a chaste kiss to his lips, and then halfway through the action I remember that this moment isn't quite the joyous reunion it should be. Jack notices my hesitance and immediately guesses what's made me upset.
"You're thinkin' about Vanderbilt." He says, placing his free hand under my chin and tilting my head up so he can better appraise my expression.
I nod stiffly. "They'll torture him. He's not like you, Jack, he can't handle pain. He's never had to."
He releases me then, keeping only my injured hand, and the two of us walk slowly over to the room's only exit. The look on Jack's face is rather grimmer than my own, to my surprise. I know that he doesn't care about Charlie beyond wanting him to live freely and unharmed, so it's odd to see him so invested in the matter.
"We're gonna get him back as soon as we can. He'll be okay." He promises, reaching out to push the door open. "You're not gonna lose anyone else, Effie."
And as he steps outside I come to the conclusion that any worries on his part are purely for my benefit. He doesn't want me to be the way I was after Collette died, and Charlie's safety is- at the least- a small part of my happiness. I follow him out into the courtyard, strangely more certain than ever before that things are finally coming to a head.
The morning of our great migration east dawns with sunshine and strong winds that shake the doors and shutters in the Fort and whip around our gear in a way that makes movement somewhat difficult. Nigel West Dickens approaches me as the others move out and informs me that he will not be accompanying us on this last journey of ours due to his uncertainty that he could survive it. Though this news is saddening in its own way it's not quite the revelation that he seems to think it will be, and we say our somber goodbyes as fast as possible in order to avoid impeding my departure any more than we already have. I spend most of the beginning of the march at Wade's side, discussing the possible ambush points that Fordham's men might try to utilize, until we're interrupted by Mr. Johnson catching up to us and asking for a moment alone with his son. I withdraw a few feet back to where Marianne and Elizabeth are lugging a trunk full of medical supplies behind them, but before I'm quite gone I overhear the older man expressing pride for his son in words I never expected to hear him say. It seems that the spectre of death looming over our militia is bringing out the best in all of us.
By sunset we've reached Coot's Chapel, our first real stop on the route, and the majority of our battalion sets about creating a camp we can stay at for the night. The Governor seems pleased that we're slightly ahead of schedule. He comes upon me as I'm in the process of putting up a tent with Jack- something I'm not exactly great at- and offers to lend a hand.
"It's strange to see you doing manual labor." He comments as I shove a peg into the loose dirt just outside the graveyard. The church itself is rather small and incapable of fitting the two hundred or so people in our militia so we've been forced to make use of the the surrounding plains.
"I could say the same to you." I reply, and Jack lets out a low chuckle. Governor Bates smiles, pausing to help me tie a corner of the tent around the aforementioned peg before continuing.
"As charming as this repartee happens to be, I sought you out to discuss something more serious." He moves to assist Jack in setting down the tent posts as he speaks. "Juarez is beside himself with guilt for what happened yesterday and Elizabeth has just informed me that his wound has gotten infected. She's administering what first aid she can to him as we speak, but it's unlikely he'll be well enough to fight in tomorrow's battle."
I don't know what to think about this. I'm still doubtful about Juarez's dedication to our cause, but at least his illness gives me one less reason to feel the need to watch my back.
"That's one fighter less," Jack says darkly, moving on to the pegs on the other side, "but if he's as green as you say, I guess it's not that much of a loss."
"We'll make do." The Governor gives the second tent post an assertive tug. "I just thought the two of you deserved to know. And, once again, I'd like to reassure you both that he has my faith and deserves yours. He is not our spy."
Governor Bates takes his leave once our tent is fully erect and begins making his rounds, ensuring that everyone else is as well set as they can possibly be. Jack departs too a few minutes later, telling me he's going to go check on Wade, and Marianne arrives not long after, effectively taking his place. She joins me where I'm seated outside the tent and offers me some of her rations which I quickly decline.
"I've been thinkin' of goin' to work while we're here, if you catch my meanin'. The men could use some fun, don't you think? And I could use the money." She says all of this idly, her mouth full of dried meat. For some reason I don't completely understand, my heart drops as I take in her words.
"W-what are you gonna do after tomorrow?" I ask shakily, trying to change the subject. "When we're done fightin', I mean."
She grins. "Well I was just gonna go back to the saloon, but Wade actually offered me a job the other day. He said he was impressed by my shootin' skills and thinks I'd make a good deputy. It's a strange thought, isn't it? Not sure if anyone would take me seriously."
I turn to face her, a wide and excited smile spreading across my face as she presents this happier possible future. To my utter astonishment, Marianne has become very important to me in the few months we've spent together. I want her to have the sort of life she deserves.
"That's great! You have to do it, Marianne!" I exclaim, my eagerness bursting forth of its own will. "And who cares if people don't take you seriously? I'll shoot them if they say anythin' bad about you, I swear I will!"
"Woah, MacFarlane, calm down!" Marianne says, laughing a little. She places a hand on my back and proceeds to pat it like I'm some sort of dog in need of soothing. "I'll consider it, alright? I guess it does sound kinda fun. But if you start shootin' people willy-nilly, I'm probably gonna end up havin' to arrest you. So don't."
I suck down a deep breath of air and nod, my senses returning to me slowly after my moment of unbridled enthusiasm. Marianne watches my changing expression with an affectionate look in her purplish-blue eyes. After a few seconds her brows furrow over them.
"You really don't want me whorin', huh?" She questions softly. I hesitate for a bit before shrugging, trying to keep my cool.
"It just doesn't seem a happy way to be. No matter how you try to spin it."
She listens to me thoughtfully, her eyebrows smoothing out across her forehead, and turns to gaze out at the camp now spread out in front of us. The people gathered here do seem to be in dismal moods, but that's to be expected seeing as how some of them may not still be alive in two day's time. That thought makes me a few notches sadder myself, and it's difficult to put it out of my mind even when I hear Marianne saying something else.
"Maybe you're right. I guess that's somethin' I'll have to consider too."
After a few moments more she leaves as well, taking her unappetizing rations with her. An hour or so later a blanket of darkness descends over us all as the sun sets in its entirety. The cloudless sky provides for a bright, starry night, however, and the glow of those stars, combined with the blazing campfires, gives me a good deal of light to see by. As I work on cleaning my gun and restocking my supply of bullets, I hear the sound of hoofbeats ringing out from somewhere south of us. My first thought is, of course, that some of Fordham's followers have seen fit to attack us while we're resting, but when I seek out the source of the noise I'm glad to find that it's merely Maddie Ross arriving just as the Governor had said she would. Without thinking about whether it's the best idea, I get to my feet and scamper over to where the formidable woman is riding in. Jack joins me on the way, his expression rather less eager, more wary than my own. Maddie dismounts her panting steed and gives the horse a proud pat on its sweat-lathered neck.
"Good girl, Gypsy. Good girl."
She turns and faces Jack and me, looking just as winded and tired as her horse. Her eyes flicker from me to him, and for a long moment she silently appraises us. She meets my gaze and respectfully tips her black hat.
"Miss MacFarlane," she greets with a soft smirk. Her expression changes to one I can't quite decipher as she makes eye contact with Jack. She nods curtly at him, her lips pursed as if she's holding back from saying something rather nasty.
"Marston," she grunts.
"I'm glad you made it in okay." I say, surprised by the sincerity in my own tone. "It must be getting pretty bad out there."
Perhaps, without knowing it, I was a little worried for her. That's a silly notion, though, and I know it because no one is safer out in the wilds than Maddie Ross. Beside me, Jack just jerks his head to the side in acknowledgement of her greeting. The look on his face tells me that he's probably waiting for her to show him the same resentment she had when they last met.
Maddie nods and lets out a heavy sigh. "Took me a while to get here, but I made it. Gypsy and I ran into a few...obstacles...on the way, but we're here." She grins at her horse; the two make eye contact as Maddie strokes the black mare's flaxen mane. "I can always depend on my Gypsy. She's the fastest and toughest horse there is. Aren't you?"
She gives the horse a loving pat on the neck. Jack's gaze flickers over to Gypsy, his dark eyes betraying a bit of interest. I look at the horse too, thinking that if she's anything like War, Maddie has good reason to be fond of her. Still, the pressing matter of what exactly the pair dealt with out there is more significant to me now than anything else.
"Obstacles?" I repeat, moving closer to the two of them. "What sort of obstacles?"
She scowls, her tone coloring with annoyance as she says, "It feels like Fordham's army is growing. I've tried killin' as many of those sons-a-bitches as I could, but they just keep multiplying like fuckin' weeds. You pick one off, and two more spring up in his place." She takes off her black Stetson and runs a hand through her bangs and over her long hair that's pulled back in a braid. "There were a couple times there where the fuckers had me surrounded." She flashes a confident smile as she places her hat back on her head. "But they didn't stand a Goddamned chance against Landon Ricketts' finest student."
This is upsetting news, but I calm myself with the thought that if Fordham's men are still so plentiful, it's unlikely that they've caught wind of the extent of our plans. Otherwise they'd have all pulled back to Blackwater. Jack stiffens beside me and speaks up at last, his expression now more curious than distrustful.
"If they're still spread this far west, maybe they haven't gotten anythin' out of Vanderbilt and the others." He remarks, speaking my thoughts aloud. Maddie regards him with a flicker of surprise, looking as if she hadn't expected him to comment at all.
"Good point." She responds. "Unfortunately it's hard as hell to spy on a person that knows you, so I haven't been able to get any worthwhile information on his plans." Her brow furrows, and her words are spat like acid on her tongue as she continues. "That rotten fuck. Had I known Fordham was gonna betray us all, I would've shot him between the eyes long ago. None of this would be happening right now and we'd all be going on with our lives."
"It's hard to guess how people are gonna turn out." I shrug, thinking of the one time we'd run into Fordham. He hadn't seemed like a megalomaniac then either. "It's definitely not your fault."
"Effie's right." Jack says carefully, frowning. "It's not your fault." He pauses, his hand inching up to where my old scarf is tied around his neck, and he tugs at it once before continuing to speak. "You know, you're less angry than I expected you'd be. It's kinda throwin' me off, to be honest."
A mixture of emotions cross Maddie's face. She ducks her head down, hiding behind her hat as she confesses, "I admit I was a little...hostile...towards you when we first met. But..." She pauses to look back up at him. She bites her lip as she finds the right words, and for a long moment she regards Jack with an unfathomable expression. Unexpectedly, she snorts and shakes her head. A puzzled smirk crosses her lips as she admits, "I don't know what to think of you, boy. When we last talked, I thought I was gonna fill your hide with bullets, and I sure as hell wanted to at the time. You don't know how much I wanted to kill you the second I saw you."
Jack looks as if he's remembering something as he says, "I can guess."
I glance between the two of them for a second, wondering if they can keep their civil tones, before realizing that the two of them aren't anything but calm. The topic of this conversation is surely dangerous ground, and yet neither Jack nor Maddie seem to be looking for a fight.
"But you still killed my father and uncle." She continues more angrily, throwing him an ominous glare. "I haven't decided what I'm gonna do about our...issue, but just know that for now I'll be fighting alongside you while this war rages." She takes a threatening step towards him. "And when all this madness is over with and done, you and I have a score to settle."
He nods begrudgingly, seeming to accept this verdict of hers, and my heart skips a beat as I realize that this could mean any number of possible outcomes for Jack, all of them bad. I hope that Maddie Ross will be open to reasoning with us when the time comes.
With that she turns to her enervated, sweating mare and immediately begins unsaddling her. She unties the saddlebags and tosses them to the ground before loosening the cinches on the saddle and sliding it and the drenched blanket off her horse's back. Gypsy gives a grateful sigh and shakes herself. A moment later her bridle is removed and, to my amazement, Maddie doesn't bother to put a halter on her horse. Instead, she picks up the tack and walks over to the fence that surrounds the cemetery and drapes the saddle, bridle, and blanket over it. She doesn't appear to be concerned as her horse walks off to roll in the dirt. Tiredly, Maddie shuffles back to the saddlebags, bends down, and throws them over her shoulder. Without any further acknowledgement of Jack and I Maddie walks over to her horse who has just finished rolling and is shaking herself, releasing a cloud of dirt and mud. Gypsy lowers her head and begins grazing as her rider takes out a curry comb and starts brushing her sullied coat. She pauses a moment later to retrieve a bottle of whiskey from the saddlebags. She takes the cork out with her teeth, spits it into the saddlebag, then takes several swigs of the alcohol that doesn't seem to affect her whatsoever—she doesn't cough or sputter as she lowers the bottle from her lips and continues brushing Gypsy. The ease with which she drinks the disgusting liquid alarms both Jack and myself, and neither of us are completely able to mask our shock. A few seconds pass in silence before Jack shakes his head and speaks again.
"That's about as much lenience as I could ask for, I guess." He says in an undertone- though I'm sure Maddie can hear him- and then turns to address me in a softer tone of voice. "Will you be alright by yourself for a while? I'm supposed to be helpin' Marianne set up her tent right now."
I giggle. "Why did she wait so long to do that?" He opens his mouth to answer me, but I cut him off first. "You know what? Nevermind. Go ahead, you know I can take care of myself."
He shoots me a short-lived grin before kissing the top of my head and giving Maddie a parting glower as he leaves. I watch him make his way through the sea of tents for a moment longer and then turn back to check on Maddie. Unexpectedly, a beautiful melody has begun to flow from her mouth. She's singing softly to her horse, a lovely, soothing tune that I can't understand-the language is unfamiliar to my ears as it drifts over to where I am.
"You have a pretty voice." I comment, smiling to myself. "It's a good talent to have, but I've never really been good at singing myself. Back when I was still in school, we had this one very boring music class and my teacher would always force me to sing scales. Of course, I'd always sing off-key just to piss her off."
She flinches as she notices my presence and her cheeks flush while she stutters, "Oh. I, uh...I didn't realize you were still there." She blushes even harder as she adds, "Thanks." Hurriedly, she goes back to brushing out her horse who's still absentmindedly grazing. I fight the urge to laugh.
"Sorry, I probably should have said something earlier, but you looked so peaceful for once and I didn't wanna ruin it."
For a moment I hesitate where I'm standing, staring at her impressive-looking steed now that all other immediate threats have been cleared away. It's very pretty. I don't have as much experience with animals as I'd like, seeing as how my father tried very hard to keep them away from me for the first eleven or so years of my life, but I have enough sense to know that her horse is something special.
"Do you mind if I pet her?" I inquire, inching a little closer to the two of them.
"By all means, you can, but only if she lets you." She glances over at me. The mare jerks her head up and snorts as I approach her with an outstretched hand. For a moment I'm afraid she'll lash out and bite me as I watch her ears fold back. The horse looks suspiciously at me with her dark-brown eyes, but then, as she breathes in my scent, relaxes from her tense stance and pricks her ears forward with interest. I beam at this encouraging sign and edge towards her a little more, pressing my hand softly to the side of her neck and stroking her with all the caution I can muster. She doesn't react negatively to my touch and I gain confidence, running my hands over her back and through her mane with more certainty. Even more surprising, she nickers with contentment before going back to grazing.
"She likes you, Miss MacFarlane." Maddie observes as she finishes brushing her horse. "If she approves of you then so do I, I reckon." I'm taken off-guard when Maddie suddenly holds the whiskey out to me. "You look like you could use a drink. Care for a swig?"
I regard the whiskey for a brief moment, but then I shake my head. "No thanks, I'm not really much of a drinker."
A soft, approving smile graces Maddie's lips as she eyes me amicably. "That's probably a good thing, little Miss MacFarlane. Having an affinity for the bottle is unbecoming for a pretty little thing like you. You are a smart one, I'll give you that." She takes another swig before fishing the bottle's cork from her saddlebags and closing off the top. I watch as the bounty hunter returns the whiskey to its original location and takes out a cigar from one of the inner pockets of her duster. She uses a couple matches to light the thick cigar and brings it to life with several big puffs. Once the cigar is well-lit, Maddie blows out the smoke in a thick cloud that swirls and spirals around her.
"Thanks, I like to think so." I begin jokingly, uncomfortable with compliments as I've always been, and I channel my remaining energy into rifling through my thoughts for possible topics of conversation. Almost immediately I remember the embarrassment she'd shown when I'd caught her singing. "By the way, that song you were singing earlier...I don't think I've ever heard it before. Was that English?"
She shakes her head as she puts the curry comb back in her bag. "No, it's Irish. The song's called Ar Eirinn Ní Neosfainn Cé hÍ, but I don't remember what it means. It's been years since she died, but my mother used to sing it to me almost every night." She returns the cigar to her mouth and takes several puffs before letting the smoke escape in a billowing cloud. After waving away some of the fumes I go back to petting Gypsy, uncomfortable with my idle hands, and try to continue our friendly chat to the best of my ability.
"It sounds like your mother was a good person. I'm glad you had one decent parent at least, seeing as how the last time we met I remember you, um, calling your father a fool." I grimace as I say the word, knowing that she'd actually used a much stronger version of it. "I don't know if that was true, but I'm sorry for what we did to him."
Maddie is silent for a time as she takes in my words. She puffs reflectively on the cigar, staring off into the night over Gypsy's back, and then lets out a sad sigh.
"Yes, she really was a great person. Especially in her final moments when she stood against the gang that robbed our farm and got shot down in front of me and my father. And my father...well, he became a drunken fool after she passed." She looks back at me. "I'm honestly not as devastated as I should be over his loss, but to tell you the truth I never much cared for that fucking idiot, especially since he treated my mother like shit." Angrily, she puffs on her cigar. She releases the smoke with an aggravated huff, looking like a dragon that's been disturbed in its sleep. "And my uncle...well, I used to adore him...until I discovered the truth. What Uncle Edgar did to John Marston..."
She shakes her head with pity. My heart drops, as it always does, at the memory of Mr. Marston's death. I don't mention to her that he was more important to me than my own father. I don't mention, though I'm sure it's clear in my expression, how badly it hurt me to lose him so soon after meeting him. Instead I remove my hands from Gypsy's back and turn to meet her gaze, saying the only thing I'm able to force out.
"I wish life hadn't been so cruel to us. All of us." I add on, knowing that Jack has had it even worse than me. "Sometimes it feels like everyone we love, we lose." Like Collette. "And everyone we don't lose just ends up disappointing us." Like my father.
She scoffs at my words and nods in agreement. "Ain't that the Goddamned truth."
Though I don't know Maddie that well, I'm sure that it must have been difficult for her to tell me what she did. I feel like we understand each other a little better than we had at the start. This is why, before I go, I have to ask her to do something that seems almost impossible.
But then again, I know that Maddie Ross is the sort of woman who can perform miracles.
"I know you can't forgive Jack, even if you didn't really care about your father. I'd probably feel the same way if someone had killed mine." I admit this as plainly, as straightforwardly as I possibly can. "Still, I hope that when the time comes for you to settle your differences, you treat Jack fairly. He's a lot like you, in some ways. He wanted revenge for his father too." My brows furrow of their own accord as I think of this. "But even when he got it, nothing changed."
Maddie stares long and hard at me, musing at my suggestion. A troubled frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. A long, excruciating silence lingers between us before she finally utters, "We'll see, Effie. We'll see."
It's more than I could have hoped for, this noncommittal statement, and when the two of us part I find that- despite the fact that she and Jack may never be capable of overcoming their enmity- I'm glad that she's here. Since her arrival, this final battle has felt more survivable.
Somewhere close to midnight I find myself startled awake from the brief spell of sleep I had fallen into as I'd sat, my head leaning on Jack's arm, against the back wall of the dilapidated church. The sound of somber music fills the air, the very noise that had infiltrated my slumber and forced me out of it. When I seek the source of the music I'm somewhat surprised to find a lone, dark-skinned man walking amongst the ruined graves with a fiddle pressed between his chin and shoulder. He seems quite the ghostly apparition, drifting about like he is. I stifle a yawn as I shift myself into a more upright position and look around to see how the others are doing. It's hard to find my friends amongst this crowd of fighters, but I'm eventually able to spot the bright sheen of Elizabeth's hair, the glint reflecting off of Wade's marshal badge. My heart falters as I come to realize that their expressions, and those of nearly everyone else here, are ones of melancholy. Even Jack doesn't seem his normal, stoic self. Despite assertions to the contrary they all seem to know, instinctively, that this is the sort of battle we've never faced before. Our small militia has skirmished with Archer Fordham's more formidable forces here and there a few times, but never have we gone up against so large a force with so little preparation. Fordham has more willing fighters than we do, though their number now is so much less than the number they had at the start of all this. His men also have better weapons than ours, though not by much. The spirits of the New Austin people are low, and for good reason, but I know they can't stay like that if we want a real chance at defeating the West Elizabethans tomorrow. Wars are not won on the backs of hopeless, faithless soldiers.
Slowly I get to my feet, using Jack's strong shoulder as support for the motion, and I force my tired legs to carry me to the fiddler amongst the graves. Eyes follow me as I go- mostly apathetic, a few curious- and narrow with suspicion as I tug on the fiddler's sleeve and force his music to come to a halt.
"I need your help." I mutter, my voice quiet enough that few can hear me, though they may try. The fiddler meets my gaze with an inquisitive gleam in his black eyes and lowers his fiddle from its place beside his head.
"Truly, Miss MacFarlane? I can't imagine what you'd need from an old man like me."
He seems to be joking, seeing as how he isn't too much older than the majority of the people here, and I take this as a positive sign. I flip my unruly hair over one shoulder and draw him lower so I can whisper right into his ear.
"The way we are now, there's no chance of us being any use in a fight." I say softly, gesturing towards the people in the graveyard, and those further beyond in our sea of tents. "The thought of dyin' is makin' everyone too scared to sleep and not sleeping is makin' them weak." Here I pause abruptly, biting my lip, and look down at my feet as I rush through the next part. "I'm not much of a leader. I know it's not my job to be, but if I could just do something to give them a little hope...I think we'd all be better off come morning, if I could do that."
The fiddler lets out a low chuckle to my surprise, his wrinkled brow smoothing out as he does so. He really doesn't look much older than Mr. Marston was when I first met him. Smiling amiably at me, he places a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"I get it, kid, so you can stop your babblin' now." He tells me. "Of course I'll help you. What do you need?"
It takes a few minutes, but I soon gather up the few people and items I need to carry out my plan. The citizens of New Austin watch with piqued interest as I move the fiddler into the very center of our campground- a location beside the rusted fence that runs around parts of the graveyard- and drag Marianne and Jack into place beside him. The latter puts up a bit of a fight as I shove a harmonica into his unwilling hands, but he quickly becomes more malleable upon hearing my uncomplicated plan. Once assembled the trio look at each other uncertainly, and then at me, and then again at each other when I gesture for them to get on with what I asked. Marianne is the first to begin, braver than her male counterparts by far. Her voice, high and clear, carries through the entire camp as she sings.
"Of all the money that ever I had...I spent it in good company. And all the harm I've ever done...alas, it was to none but me…"
Jack follows suit, lifting the harmonica to his mouth and playing along to the pitch of her voice- which is just as perfect as the rest of her, I should mention. The fiddler joins them last and his music makes up the backbone of the song. He is rather more experienced than his young companions and his skill surpasses theirs, but to his credit he never plays over Marianne. He merely supports her silvery voice as it gains volume, attracting the attention of nearly everyone within a fifty yard radius. Reluctantly I tear my eyes away from them and prance over to where Elizabeth and Wade are seated, grabbing each of their hands and towing them into the open space between the church and graves.
"What in the world are you doin'?" Wade demands, his eyes wide as I fasten his hand around Elizabeth's waist. She looks just as alarmed as him as I force them to wind the fingers of their left hands together, completely disregarding the light twinge of pain in my own hand- a reminder of my earlier altercation- as I go. Hurriedly I take a step away from them, giving them my most pleading look as I speak.
"You two have to dance or this whole thing falls apart! Please, I can't do this by myself!"
Wade's expression switches over to one of confusion at this, but Elizabeth is rather more composed than he is. She reads the desperation on my face and places her right hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to her.
"Come on, Wade, why not? I do love this song."
His gaze softens significantly when she tells him this and, though still slightly befuddled, he draws her into a lively two-step that's flawlessly in time with the beat of the the song. Upon seeing this one of the Rathskeller Fork deputies, a woman with pock-marked cheeks, begins to clap along. She's joined by a few others after a couple moments and soon enough, just as I'd hoped, everyone in the immediate vicinity is perking up at the sight.
Wanting to add to the joyous mood I glance around wildly before finding the Governor standing by the back door of the church with a knowing smirk on his face. I bound over to him and grab him by his wrists, pulling him over to where Elizabeth and Wade are still revolving gracefully. He doesn't resist in the least as I hook my arm through his and spin him around, prancing in a less sophisticated but more enjoyable form than our friends, and this spirited dance of ours encourages several other people to follow suit. It's not long until a great portion of the campers are either dancing to the music or cheering on their more active friends, and I even spot Maddie bobbing her head along to the beat from beside Gypsy. Governor Bates stills me for a moment after our seventh revolution, tugging me a little closer by my elbow and bending down in order to whisper something to me.
"This was very good of you to do," he says kindly, and the hand on my elbow slides up my arm to pat me on the shoulder, "and I doubt anyone else could have done so much in so little time. Thank you."
I blush readily. "I didn't really-"
"It's fine to accept compliments every once in awhile, you know." He interrupts my blustering with a joke and takes a step back. "Well, Effie, this has been lovely. I'm afraid I have to return to my final preparations, but I'm sure you can find another partner if you wish." He pauses, his expression dimming a notch as he goes on. "Sleep well tonight, if you can. I'm going to be relying heavily on you from here on."
Marianne is on her second rendition of the same song as he walks away, "Then gently rise and softly call 'Good night and joy be to you all!'", and Jack has stopped playing his borrowed harmonica in favor of laughing at the animated way she's belting out the tune. I saunter over to where he's leaning against the fence and tap him on the shoulder, grinning widely as he turns to face me.
"What?" He asks, suspicious, and I give him my most innocent look.
"It kinda seems like they sound just fine without you, huh?"
He glances behind him tensely. "Sure, I guess all that clappin' pretty much drowns out the harmonica anyway. What are you gettin' at?"
Without another word I grab his right hand, wrapping my fingers around his as tightly as I can, and tug him away from Marianne and the fiddler. He catches onto my intention rather quickly and pulls back a bit, shaking his head.
"N-no, Effie, no way, you know I don't dance!" He stutters, suddenly anxious. "I can't! Seriously, I'll end up embarrassin' both of us and you don't want that."
I use my free hand to tug the harmonica from his clenched fist and tuck it safely away in the pocket of his jacket. He's still eyeing me with trepidation as I wind my arms around his neck and tow him down, kissing him more slowly, more surely than I usually do. His response is less fervent than normal, but he does seem somewhat calmed by the kiss. Slightly dazed, he allows me to pull him over to where the other dancers are.
"They're havin' too much fun to notice what we're doin' anyway." I point out, wanting a response, and then press on when he doesn't provide me with one. "Come on, Jack, it'll be fun!"
This draws him out of his reverie, and he shrugs as he lets me do what I will with him. At first he merely acts the part of a wooden post, standing in place as I twirl around him, sometimes using his hand as a prop to keep me upright. Then, after I've stepped on his feet a few times, he seems to regain some of his humor and tries to mimic my dancing to an extent. He's more agile than I am by far and not as bad at dancing as he believes, but even so the two of us clear a space around us as we stomp around with graceless movements. He grabs both of my hands and proceeds to spin the two of us in place, creating a circle of motion very similar to a merry-go-round and making me laugh so loudly and so openly that I can be heard over the rest of the bedlam. Jack laughs too, though not as boisterously as I do, and tugs me out of formation and back into his arms. We're enjoying ourselves so thoroughly, all of us here in this makeshift campground, that we almost miss the rebounding noise of gunshots echoing off of the plateau ridges nearby.
Almost.
"MOVEMENT ON THE NORTHERN SIDE!" Jonah- our old friend- yells in response to the commotion, and his voice is so loud that he effectively cuts off Marianne. "NORTHERN SIDE, I SAID! FORWARD GUNNERS, GET THE HELL OVER THERE!" And then, as everyone stands frozen in horror, "WHAT ARE Y'ALL IDIOTS WAITIN' FOR?!"
There's a flurry of movement then as Jack, Jonah, Wade, and I- along with the other members of our forward line- race over to the other side of the church. We pick up whatever weapons we can along the way and reach the northern road just in time to hear Mr. Johnson, who's holding a pair of binoculars up to his eyes, relay what's happening to the rest of us.
"It's hard to see in the dark, but I can make out someone on a horse comin' this way. Whoever the hell they are, they seem almost dead in their saddle. They're bein' followed by two other assholes-" He move the binoculars away momentarily to glance over at the Governor, who's just arrived. "They're the ones shootin' up the place, by the looks of it. I'm pretty sure they're aimin' to kill the first guy."
"Take out the pursuers." The Governor commands as he nods towards Jack and Jonah, both of whom have sniper rifles on their person. "I'd rather face an injured stranger than two who are very clearly armed and willing to shed blood." He waits for the two men to take aim before continuing. "Leave the person at the front unharmed. As long as they pose no danger to us, I'd like to give them a chance to explain all of this."
I watch nervously as Jack settles his leg against a large boulder and follows the second of the two shooters with his scope. Jonah takes the first shot and downs the man in his sights in a single blow. There's no way to be certain that this stranger is dead, but at least the person being chased is safe from him. It takes Jack two bullets to stop his own target and when he does the people around us rejoice, breathing a little easier now that the immediate danger has been dispelled.
"Make way!" Someone calls out from the front of our little crowd as the sole survivor of the incident comes galloping towards us. It's difficult to see what sort of person is slouched over in the saddle in this half-light, but the horse they're riding in on looks quite exhausted. It slows down to a trot when it nears the Governor and Mr. Johnson, its nostrils flaring as it struggles to breathe. Without a word to any of us the rider slides unceremoniously from the back of the beast and falls to the floor. There are a few shocked gasps from the crowd as the people in front get a glimpse of the stranger.
"Effie!" Wade, being one of those people, calls back to me with a panicked edge to his tone. Hearing his fear I shove past the people standing before me until I too am at the front of the closely clustered group. Lying on the ground before me is someone I was worried I'd never see again.
"Charlie!" I exclaim, dropping to my knees and pulling his head and shoulders closer to my person. He's clearly been battered in his absence, covered in cuts and bruises that seem painful to the touch. His right eye is swollen shut and there's blood and dirt crusted into his hair, which is normally impeccably clean. His left eye opens momentarily and his pupil dilates as he meets my gaze. What have they done to him? What did they make him say? None of his injuries look so severe that I fear for his recovery, but my heart still races at the sight of him hurt this way.
Abruptly Charlie raises his hand and, his chest heaving, hooks his arm around my shoulder to pull himself upright. He turns towards the audience assembled before us and glances around, barely registering their presence, until he spots Governor Bates. He points resolutely at the baffled man.
"You." Charlie croaks out through chapped lips, and it's very obvious that it's a struggle for him just to form these few words. "It's you that caused all of this….It's you they're coming after."
