Sweating in their long pants and collared shirts, Howard and Forrest Bondurant hustled up to the top of the hill they now felt certain had been Alice's destination. Howard carried a shotgun, while Forrest carried a rifle and his sidearm, as they crashed through the brush quickly as they could, making up time. By half past one in the afternoon, they were approaching the tree line, and Howard was growing increasingly nervous. His concern was not for Alice, who he seemed certain would be just over this ridge or the next, but for his brother, who seemed to be losing patience with each foot they climbed. He had never seen his brother so distraught in all the years he had known him. As they climbed higher, heading for the section of the hill which boasted the most rocky ridges, Howard, out in front of his brother, paused for a moment, wiping sweat away from his brow, and turned his ear to the sound of what he thought was a voice several hundred feet above them. Forrest stopped short behind him, waiting to see what it was that had caught his brother's ear. Howard pointed in the direction of the sound of a clear, lyric voice, singing words he couldn't discern. Forrest furrowed his brow and paused until he could hear it. It could only be her. He had listened out of earshot to her singing to herself on occasions when she had cooked at the station, and quite often as she sang to Smoke while she brushed him and tacked him up. They climbed further in the direction of the voice. They climbed via a circuitous route, unable to approach her directly, instead required to climb up one side of the hill and then down. As they reached a place on the hill where they were parallel to where she had made her day camp, they could hear now quite clearly what it was she was singing. A folk song, from the war between the states.

"I spent my childhood walking the wildwood"

Forrest could see her by now, laying, of all things, flat on her stomach at the edge of the bison hide, resting on one forearm which held down a sheet of heavy watercolor paper as it lay flat on the flat rock surface while the other carefully drew a line with a fine paintbrush.

"Down along the Dixie Line"

He couldn't see that she was painting. All he could make out were the soft, curvaceous lines of her form as she lay flat on her stomach in her tailored, fitted riding pants. Her round bottom, specifically, and her lovely little feet, bare of stockings or boots, which she kicked back and forth absentmindedly on the ends of bent legs. Her hair, which she generally tied back, was down around her shoulders, shining golden red in the sunlight.

"Freight trains are squalling

Eyeballs are bawling

Four engines at a time"

Howard patted his brother's shoulder and turned to go back "See you at the station," he said.

Forrest looked bewildered "You ain't comin?"

Howard chuckled "Oh no… I told you what her colored woman said."

Forrest shook his head once, realizing he was so distracted he hadn't asked the particulars beyond where they should be able to find her.

Howard grinned saucily and mimicked the deep, sweet melodic voice he had heard on the other end of the line

"The only way to catch a moving train is to jump aboard."

Forrest's eyes went wide and he looked away for a moment, embarrassed, though he couldn't tell why. Howard grinned again and gave his brother a good natured punch in his massive bicep

"All aboard, big man," he said. Then he made his way back down the hill.

Forrest sighed and took off his hat, smoothing back his hair, suddenly self-conscious. He placed it back on his head and climbed as quietly as he could up to where she lay, until he was directly above Alice, ready to head down the outcropping towards where she sat. He waited an inordinate amount of time, listening to the sound of her sweet voice.

"I was so happy with Momma and Pappy

Down along the Dixie Line"

Watching her lazily move her legs back and forth, bent at the knees, he allowed himself to think of exactly what he'd like to do if there were no constraints on either of them. How he'd like to catch her little heels in his hands and carefully lower them to the hide she lay upon, gently part her thighs and settle himself into place against her, burying his face in her lustrous, sun warmed hair. He got as far as imagining the eager, impatient grinding of her backside against him as he unbuckled his belt, shocked when he heard her voice call out to him.

"Are you going to stand there forever, bootlegger, or are you comin' down?"

He could hear her distinct, soft Virginia twang in her voice. One he couldn't always make out amidst her generally more refined way of speaking. One he loved to hear.

She didn't even look up at him. Suddenly, Forrest was incensed. Laying his gun down in a discreet, secure place, he lumbered down through the rocky area that lead to the outcropping, striding with confidence towards her until finally she raised herself up on her haunches to look at him, turning as a light breeze blew her hair across her neck. It was then that he stopped mid stride, disarmed. He noticed for the millionth time the swell of her ample chest beneath her pretty white blouse, and the curve of her waist in contrast with her hips. Alice blanched slightly, noticing the anger on Forrest's face. She would be lying to herself if she claimed not to fear his temper a little, and a worse lair still if she denied her enjoyment of his palpable power. Carefully, she rose to her feet, and as he looked down Forrest noted her little toenails were painted bright red. The meek, submissive look on her face roused Forrest's confidence once again and he stepped towards her in big, imposing strides.

"Whatchu think you're doin?" he asked sternly.

She looked so pathetically confused, her pretty mouth parted, her eyes wide and searching, that he almost felt badly for his tone. Then he remembered all the worrying he'd done.

"Didn't tell no one where you were goin?" he demanded.

He saw Alice's eyes grow dark, as her combative nature was provoked. "I wasn't aware it was required of a tenant." The way she used the word tenant suggested contempt for the nature of their relationship.

"There's prohis crawlin' all over these damn woods," he barked.

She looked up at him, testing a bit of insolence, but reverting to the self-conscious behavior of tucking her hair behind her ear as she often did "I was distinctly aware of you watching me shoot yesterday. You should know you have nothing to worry about." She sniffed dismissively and turned to go back to her spot sitting on the hide, when she felt Forrest's hand shoot out, surprisingly quickly, and catch her gently by the forearm.

"No!" she snapped, yanking her arm away and crossing both over her chest. "You only pay me mind when it pleases you to."

Forrest felt a terrible, tight, wrenching sensation in his chest and the pained look on his face told Alice she'd perhaps been too harsh with him. Then she recalled all the hints she'd dropped, all the opportunities she'd given him, and the way he seemed to have disappeared after their kiss the night of the barn dance and their escape to Blackwater Station. Suddenly, she was angry, and completely unafraid of him. Completely unafraid of whatever might happen to her.

"You think I don't know what they'll do? You think I haven't seen men bleeding and dying and crying out to God to save them? When I was nine years old a sixty pound splinter of oak went straight through a man's heart in front of me. You think I haven't seen violence, and gore, and death? You think I don't know what men do to men they hate? To women they can't have?"

She was shouting now. And trembling, she realized. She had backed away from him and was standing back on her buffalo hide, curling her toes in anger, her hair whipping around her face in the wind. Forrest stood, stunned. Angry tears had mustered at the corner of her eyes and she fought them off.

She looked down at her feet, her voice suddenly quiet

"My father….I saw my father…" She looked up at him again, and Forrest felt his heart crushed to the point where he couldn't draw breath, the pain on her pretty face almost too much for him to bear. A deep, quiet sob rose in her throat "He didn't die right away."

She closed her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks, recalling the look in her father's eyes as she had skidded to a stop on her knees on the blood soaked marble floor, the light draining from his eyes as she sat sobbing and cradling his head in her hands.

No sooner had her tears fallen than they were replaced. She wiped them away from her cheeks, as they burned with shame.

"He was mad. And every day I'm afraid I will be too."

"Good man ain't measured by his sanity." Forrest grumbled. Alice looked up at him.

"Why did he leave me, Forrest?" She asked, her lower lip wobbling as more tears streamed down her cheeks. "Why did he leave me?" She sobbed, her voice quavering and earnest.

She realized her hands were raised in front of her chest, balled into loose fists, elbows bent as her arms quaked along with the rest of her body.

More quickly than either of them expected, Forrest had closed the gap between them and with giant, gentle hands had gently encircled Alice's waist, pulling her protectively against him. Her arms relaxed as she cuddled against his hard, muscular chest, and she put them up around his thick neck, her entire body slackening a bit as he caught and held her in his strong arms.

"Shhhh," he whispered softly as she cried quietly onto one of his big shoulders, and he hated Johann then, if only for an instant, for causing her this pain. For a few moments, they simply stood there. Forrest, never one to use words needlessly, said nothing for a time, only turned his head to rest his cheek against the side of her head, until the words he needed came to him.

"Everythin' I been doin' is for you, Alice. I always pay you mind." She turned her head to look at him, bewildered.

"For me? But you've been so-"

"Been workin'." He said. "Man's got to be proud of who he is and what he got before he can hope to…"

"Hope to what?" Alice asked, her heart leaping in her chest.

"Now ain't the time to talk about that." Forrest said, stiffening. He realized she truly wasn't certain. And he realized what a fool he had been. She loved her horse, but he had offered her distraction when all she seemed to want, to his delight and disbelief, was him. He had made her wait, and it killed him inside that she'd taken his preparation as rejection.

"Why don't you come ridin' with me tomorrow? I don't like you out here alone." He asked. He was tired of waiting. He had questions for her. Alice pulled back to look at him, her arms still around Forrest's neck.

"I'd like that," she said. She blinked up at him through still reddened eyes "You're not going to tell me I have to go?" she nearly whimpered, tears welling in her eyes anew.

Forrest shook his head. "No, darlin', no one's leavin' you any more." He said.

She leaned back into him, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly as she whispered, lips soft against his ear

"Good. I could stand to loose everything but you."