The Lemoyne raiders were out in full force, but Rane was holding her own, and Arthur, both guns in his hands, watched her progress with unfiltered impress. He had never seen her in a true battle before - even John Marston hadn't seen it, not in its full form - but he saw it now, and everything she'd said about becoming an auror was beginning to come clear. She was bleeding freely from the wound in her side, her side shining damp with blood from beneath her ribs to the thigh of her jeans, but she advanced nonetheless, wand and sword at hand, and when bullets flew their way the blade flew before her in a flash, circling her wrist and throwing the sunlight off its shaft. The raiders shooting at her were falling before Arthur could even fire, and the ones on the lawn, seeing their fellows dropping so quickly as Rane strode toward the house, were beginning to retreat inside, shouting.
"They gotta be Lemoyne raiders," Arthur said, and pointed toward the upper half of the house. "There's one up there in the windows, watch yourself."
"HOMENUM REVELIO!" Rane said loudly, aiming her wand at the house, and then turned to Arthur quickly. "There's only five of them in there, we can take them. Come on. Stay behind me and shoot, I'll cover you."
Arthur fell back, feeling out of sorts. He had never had a woman protect him during a raid, least of all with a weapon like that. This was all so strange. She strode on, stumbling a little and clutching her side with her spare hand, her breathing harsh, and Arthur watched her with genuine fascination. The raiders were hanging out of the windows now, and her motions were so fast that it was as if she could read their minds; no sooner had they sprung out of cover and aimed that her sword was flying before her, sending the bullets whistling off into the air, seeming to move with an effortlessness that bordered on lazy. He had held that sword, and put it at seven, maybe eight pounds, and this girl who might have tipped the scales at a hundred and thirty soaking wet was twirling it around one-handed like it was nothing. While shot, no less.
Arthur took out four of them, shooting from the hip, and the remaining one vanished from the windows at this, ducking out of sight, as he and Rane reached the front porch.
"Where'd that last one get off to?" Arthur said, low.
"I dunno, maybe he cut out," Rane replied, sheathing her sword. Her breathing was still coming in quick, harsh gasps, Arthur noted with some dismay, and her hand was gloved with her own blood up to the wrist. Her jeans were damp with it almost to the knee. Maybe she was shot worse than he'd thought. "Let's go see if we can find him."
She shouldered her way through the door, still clutching her side, and the remaining shooter was right there, inches from her, pistol drawn and hiding behind the door. Before Arthur could do much of anything he'd belted her across the face with the butt of his gun, and Rane fell to the ground, blood dashing from her mouth.
"There he is," she gasped. "Expelliarmus!"
The man's pistol flew from his hand and landed on the other side of the room, bouncing with a clatter off the wall. Arthur aimed from the hip and caught the man in the forehead, the crack of his gun incredibly loud in the room, and he fell face-first onto the floor.
"Christ, I don't know how I feel about the manners on some of these guys," Rane muttered, wiping at her mouth and examining the blood on the back of her hand with dismay.
"Well, he won't make that mistake again," Arthur remarked grimly, holstering his gun. "Nah, nah," he added as Rane made as if to get to her feet, kneeling beside her and pressing her gently back down. "You stay put a minute, you're gutshot."
"He just winged me, Arthur, don't get all weird about it -"
"No he didn't, he got you in the lung, or maybe the stomach," Arthur replied gruffly. He pulled up the hem of her shirt, revealing a dark wound high up on the flatness of her belly, leaking blood steadily down between the rivets of her ribs, and sighed, shaking his head and looking up at her with a touch of fear. "Yeah, that's a lungshot, Rane. I seen 'em before. Can you fix it?"
Rane sighed, peering down her chin at herself. "Yeah, just . . . ugh . . . it's a weird angle. Wish I had a mirror." She lifted her wand, her breath still coming in rough gasps, and noted the weakness in her arm. Arthur was right, and she was going to have to be quick about this. "I'm not trying to die today so if I pass out you slap the shit out of me until I come around, don't be shy. Sigillum malam."
She waved her wand in an ornate motion over her torso, but nothing seemed to happen. She cursed, low.
"Shit. That's not the right fucking movement, hang on . . . "
She shut her eyes for a moment, moving her wand in a little semi-circle and mouthing silently, trying to remember how it went, and Arthur felt another low lick of fear. Her face was pale.
"Come on, girl," he muttered.
"I got it. Shush. Sigillum malam."
And to Arthur's intense relief, it worked. The wound sealed itself, and the blood running down Rane's side slowed and then stopped. He leaned back, his head rolling back on his shoulders, letting his pounding heart slow.
"Christ. You had me worried for a second there."
"Guess I can strike 'getting shot' off of the ol' bucket list," said Rane grimly. She was sitting up, touching her side tentatively.
"Well, I'm glad you think it's so goddamned funny, gettin' gutshot and almost bleedin' out on the floor -"
"I think it is the absolute height of hilarity, that's right," said Rane drolly, smirking at him. And when he continued to frown at her: "Oh, chill out, I was gonna be fine, Arthur. I'm just a little rusty, is all."
They looked at one another for a moment, Rane sitting up on her elbows with her long legs strewn before her and her tousled hair in her face, Arthur squatted on his hunkers, one elbow resting on his knees, his hat tipped back.
"You were really worried, weren't you?" she remarked abruptly, her smile fading.
"I swear, I tell ya I love ya and I just about lose you a hundred damn times right off the get-go," Arthur replied, low.
Rane stared at him for another moment, then leaned forward and kissed him, putting her arms around his neck. She felt him exhale against her mouth, his hands straying to her back, gentle, avoiding where she was hurt, and felt a swell of emotion in her chest bloom like a flower. Lose you, he'd said. Like she was his own. She liked it, in spite of herself.
They were sitting there on the hardwood floor of Shady Belle, twined around one another, when both of them became aware of a presence on the porch. It was bootheels, loud, and they broke apart, Rane going for her sword and Arthur for his gun, both expecting a final Lemoyne raider.
John Marston stood there, looking between them, his fingers linked in his belt loops and the afternoon sun streaming around him. Charles Smith was approaching on his heel, freshly dismounted and looking concerned, walking quickly toward them from their two horses. Athur got to his feet hastily, and so did Rane, clutching her side and looking at him, her face reddening.
"Hey," said Arthur gruffly, sounding inanely casual, as if they'd happened upon each other in a goddamned shopping mart or something. It was such an absurd thing to say in that moment that it was almost comedic.
"Hey? That what you're gonna to say to me?" said John. He pulled his hat off and tossed it onto the ground, slinging it to his left like a frisbee, and Rane saw with a jolt that he was utterly furious. His eyes were bright and cold and full of rage. "Hey?"
"John." Charles had reached the porch and placed a hand on John's shoulder, a little winded. "John, dammit, just hang on, I said -"
John shook his hand off roughly, advancing on Arthur. "You son of a bitch. After all that hell you gave me -"
"John, listen, now, I know what that musta looked like to you -"
"Looked to me like you two was swappin' more than recipes -!"
"John -" Arthur sighed roughly, his face red, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. "Listen, this ain't how I wanted it to -"
John placed both his hands on Arthur's chest and pushed him hard. Arthur staggered backward. "You KNEW how I felt about her, Arthur -!"
"John, it ain't like that, now just hang on a second!" Arthur said. His voice had risen and he was reclaiming some of his poise now that the initial surprise of seeing John there was fading. "What the hell are y'all doin' here anyway?"
"Dutch sent us to check on you," said John. His voice was loud in the little room. "Make sure you wasn't shot or somethin'. What, you upset we interrupted your little goddamned private moment or somethin'?"
"John, please." Charles touched his shoulder again, his voice low and placatory. Rane was standing where she was, frozen, paralyzed by shame. "Take a breath and calm down. We got a job to do."
John shook him off again and pointed at Arthur. "After all that shit you gave me when we got back from that Pinkerton camp, Arthur, and I walk in on you and her like that, and you knowin' how I felt for her good and goddamned well -"
"I didn't know no such thing," said Arthur, but it was a weak excuse and John knew it. He laughed roughly.
"You weren't never any good at lyin', you two-timin' bastard -"
"Now wait just a goddamned minute!" Arthur seemed to swell at hearing this, his eyes flashing. He pulled his hat off and cast it aside, sending it skittering across the floor, his blue eyes glinting in the dim of the house. "She don't belong to you, John Marston, so there ain't nothin' to two-time, you got a damn wife and child back there -!"
"DON'T YOU BRING ABIGAIL INTO IT!" John shouted, his face reddening. "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
"You two need to stop this," said Charles roughly, but John shook him off again.
"WELL MAYBE SOMEBODY OUGHTA BRING ABIGAIL INTO IT!" Arthur shouted at John. "YOU THINK SHE DON'T KNOW? HELL, ANY DUMBASS OFF THE STREET CAN SEE IT!"
John leveled his finger at Arthur, shaking his head, his mouth turned down into a sneer. When he spoke it was quick and cold, as if he'd been waiting to say this for some time and was finally able to level his accusation.
"You and her," he said, his voice low. "When you went to fence them horses, you had her then. Didn't ya? Ain't that why you didn't get back 'til nightfall?"
"Now, just hang on a second -"
"Nah, don't you start in with your horseshit, I seen it in your goddamned FACE, Arthur, you couldn't quit lookin' at her even with Dutch right there starin' at the pair of you, I thought your damn eyes was gonna fall outta your head -!"
"That ain't -" Arthur sighed again, looking distraught. "That don't have nothin' to do with -!"
John shoved Arthur again roughly. "A DAY AFTER ME? KNOWIN' HOW I FELT FOR HER? THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YA SICK SON OF A BITCH?"
"You best quit shovin' me around, Marston, 'less you wanna get hit," said Arthur, his voice dangerous.
"You wanna hit me, old man?" said John quietly, and shoved at his chest again, his eyes insolent and angry on Arthur's. "You ain't got it in you, damn blusterin' old fool -"
"Hey, HEY!" Rane said loudly, stepping forward. Both John and Arthur looked at her. "You guys need to take this shit down a notch, Jesus Christ, we can talk like adults if -!"
"Oh, I don't even wanna hear it from you, you're crooked and false up to your goddamned eyeballs," said John, leveling a finger and stepping toward her. His eyes were full of rage and pain, and Rane felt her heart falter in her chest at the sight of it. She'd hurt him badly with this. His voice dropped a little. "You laid down with me in that damn bed in Saint Denis and listened to what I said to you, and slept by my side, and not once did it occur to you to tell me you were about to jump ship for this cranky old son of a bitch -?"
"Jump ship? John, you met me a fucking week ago, what are you -?"
"Oh, don't START WITH THAT SHIT!" John said loudly, glaring at her. "You KNEW I cared for ya, I said it to you right out loud, but It didn't stop you from hopping in with that old damned fucker over there, did it? Why the hell didn't you say somethin'?"
"I didn't know," said Rane, looking up at him frankly. "And John, your fucking wife turned up the next morning, what was I supposed to -?"
"She ain't my wife."
"You know exactly what I mean." Rane stared up into his face, not backing away. "I met your kid, John. That woman's his mom, either way. Me getting into the middle of all this shit -"
"So you turn tail and fuck Arthur," said John coldly. "He got somethin' I don't? That it? Or is it that he's just a better lay. Got it where I don't. Since you seem to care so goddamned much about that."
Rane stared up at John for a moment in silence, her face reddening, her eyes growing cold.
"You're being a real asshole right now," she said, low.
John spread his arms expansively. "Hey, you know what? Maybe you oughta see how Dutch is next, then maybe you can cut out on Arthur and be the new goddamned Molly O'Shea. Or maybe Javier, he's been talkin' all about wantin' it. Or Kieran, or Micah. Hell, make your way around the whole goddamned gang same as Abigail, why not, see where ya end up."
"That's how you talk?" said Rane, glaring up at him, anger flashing in her eyes now.
"Just about."
Rane leaned toward him, leveling her finger at him and bringing her face close, her eyes flickering between his, and when she spoke her voice was low and harsh. "You like to make it sound like you were just an innocent fucking bystander, John Marston, but you got after it just as quick as I did, and I'm not the one with a kid and a lady. So you don't get to pass judgment on me and be a high and mighty asshole, especially with the pair of them turning up the next day with all this with all our business right out in the open -"
"Oh, quit it. You know why it was wrong, what you did. You know." John shook his head. "You told me all them purty things by the river and I listened and believed 'em. I guess I'm a goddamned fuckin' idiot. Probably Arthur is too."
Rane wilted slightly at this, her face falling. John gazed down at her, breathing roughly, his brows knitted.
"John -" Rane sighed, scrubbing at her face with frustration. "I'm trying to take this one on the chin, man. I know I fucked it all up, but . . . I don't understand it, it just is. I'm sorry. I really am."
"So you love him." John gestured at Arthur, his eyes hard on hers. "You known us both for a week but you know you love him and not me."
Rane lifted her hands and let them drop at her sides, shaking her head. "I can't help it, John."
John shook his head, staring down at her, and she was startled to see the emotion glimmering in his eyes. If she'd had any doubt about how he felt for her, she didn't have to wonder now.
"You broke my fuckin' heart," he said, low, his voice rough with emotion. "You did."
He turned from her, his mouth still curved down, and without warning slung a left hook at Arthur, who was quite unprepared for it. He caught it in the mouth and stumbled backwards, shocked. And then John was on him, fists flying, and it was fully blown.
Charles was starting forward at once. "God dammit, knock it off! I SAID KNOCK IT OFF!"
Both Arthur and John ignored him; they had staggared against the far window, Arthur clutching at John's shirt and staving off the blows, John letting his fists fly, his face contorted. Charles attempted to get between them and was flung off with impunity, sending him into the wall, arms flailing.
"QUIT IT!" he roared. "GODDAMNED IDIOTS -!"
There was a loud bang, and Arthur and John flew onto their asses, skidding away from each other. Rane stood over them, her wand drawn, glaring down at them, her long hair swinging around her face.
"He said knock it off," she said. "Both of you guys, chill the fuck out. That's enough."
John got up, brushing off his jeans, staring at her with real enmity. His nose was bleeding and his eyes were damp and bright as he looked into Rane's. He advanced on her until they were chest to chest, the smell of the tobacco on his breath hot and close, handsome and hurt in the shadow of Shady Belle, the blood beneath his nose bright and shining.
"I hope Dutch turns you loose," he said coldly, and turning strode out of the house, his loping gait taking him past the dooryard, pausing only to bend at the waist and snatch up his hat mid-stride from the porch. Rane watched him go, her wand falling to her side and her mouth turned down. When he reached Old Boy he climbed onto his back, brushing absently at his face with his sleeve, and kicked him into a gallop, riding off, dust flying at his heels.
Charles looked at Arthur, who was arming blood from the corner of his mouth, looking after John. getting laboriously to his feet.
"You're a piece of work," he said harshly.
"The hell you goin' after me for?" Arthur cast him an injured look.
Charles said nothing, merely glared at Arthur, shaking his head slightly. His expression was utterly disapproving.
"You takin' his side in all this?" Arthur asked him loudly, gesturing after John.
"I think you know what I mean, Arthur." Charles looked at him a moment longer, then turning began out of Shady Belle.
"Charles -"
"I'm goin' to tell Dutch she's ready," Charles said without turning.
Arthur watched his back diminish, then turned to Rane. She met his eyes, frowning. He was bleeding from the cheek and looked harried.
"Think we're in trouble," she said, low.
"Yeah, I believe you might be right," said Arthur, and sighed. "I believe so."