Hello hello!

So, I've used another song for this chapter, one with lyrics this time, and I have a little advise because reading and listening to the words at the same time isn't easy: as the music begins, stop to listen until the first refrain, then you can stop the music, read the end of the chapter and go back to listen the rest of the song, if you are interested.
Hope you like the idea, it just came to my mind as I was writing it.

Childish. Jealous. Stupid. Disillusioned.
Of course she liked the deputy. He was a pretty boy, courteous, rightful, everything he couldn't be. And after all, why did he care? They were too different, she would have left soon, scared by what she would have seen.
That was still Arthur intention: to show her what be an outlaw meant, what it meant to live like them, to be like them. The bounty idea hadn't worked, she was more determined than ever to learn how to shoot. He had failed, he needed something else. A new idea to scare her.
That was what he wanted to do. Or… was it? What did he want?
Somehow, Emily must have guessed his mood because she changed attitude: she suddenly became sweeter, more compliant, and quieter. She was all "yes here, yes there, what do you think, would you like, in my opinion", using big words and short phrases, making Arthur feel bad for his way of addressing her.
As they reached camp, she asked him if he wanted to take something to eat or drink from Pearson's supplies, and he cordially accepted, finding it a good way to make up for his rudeness. On the way to the kitchen, they walked right in front of the O'Driscoll boy, who looked up at Emily full of hope, but she ignored him completely, raising her nose in the air with indignation and fastening her steps.
"You didn't say 'hello' to you friend" stated Arthur, shamelessly rubbing salt into the wound.
"He's an idiot, not my friend."
She pronounced the words with cruelty and for a moment Arthur though he was listening to Sadie talking and not the innocent girl he knew with the name of Emily.
"Why would you say that?" he asked, more curios than ever.
"I tried to help him, but he doesn't listen. He keeps accusing Dutch of getting into my head and controlling me with his poisonous words."
'Well, he is not as stupid as he looks' though Arthur, but what came out of his mouth was: "huh, did he?"
"Yes, can you believe it? He practically said to my face that I'm weak and stupid. I don't want to deal with him, ever again."
It was better that way. The O'Driscoll had probably a couple of days left to live. If Dutch had run out of patience, he would have died. If Dutch had felt merciful and let him go, he would have died anyway, killed by Colm's boys.
Arthur took a cup of coffee, Emily took some strawberries and they awkwardly parted, not completely at peace, but surely not in the same bad blood with which they had left Valentine.

...

With the can of tasteless strawberries, Emily reached her tent and there she found Tilly and Mary-Beth… still reading the book she had bought her!
"Didn't you finish that four days ago?" asked Emily sitting next to them.
"Shh, we're almost at that part!" whispered Mary-Beth and she gave Tilly a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, a glance full of expectancy and excitement.
A couple of seconds after, Tilly let out a gasp and looked up at Mary-Beth.
"I can't believe she did that!"
"I know!" exclaimed Mary-Beth.
"Why did she accept to go with him in the first place?"
"I have no idea. I wouldn't have. I mean, he is obviously deceiving her."
"He is a mean son of a bitch and she deserves much better!"
Emily giggled. She had centered the point, right in the middle. Mary-Beth had liked that story so much that she was reading it again, this time with Tilly, who had waited patiently for her turn.
She was proud of herself: she had chosen the right one, with a catchy plot and very important teachings for some 1899 girls.
They started talking about it and Tilly was speculating, guessing what would happen next, while Emily and Mary-Beth exchanged meaningful looks, the looks of those who know, but respectfully keep their silence and secrecy.
At a certain point, Emily's eye caught a shape walking towards them and, looking in its direction, she recognized the thin face and red hair. He had a cocky smile and bold pace, all signs that people at camp had learned to read and which meant the Irish was in the mood for annoying.
"Will one of you ladies please stop pretending and marry me? It's enough now" said Sean playfully.
"Oh yes… certainly. She will" replied Mary-Beth pointing at Tilly next to her.
"I will not!" exclaimed the other and looking at her Emily saw she was smiling but she also had a disgusted expression of her face.
"Why not?" asked Sean.
"Because… because, look at you."
A shade of disappointment and offense crossed the Irish face, and Emily felt bad for him, even if she knew they were all joking.
"What's wrong with me? I'm a good, honest son of the soil."
"You're too good for me. Too real. I don't like good honest sons of anything. I like superficial people."
"You'll fall in love with me soon enough… all women do."
Sean pronounced the last sentence with such a conviction that Emily couldn't not smile, but almost immediately she looked around, checking if Karen was there.
Every time Sean acted like that, all flirts and jokes, Karen became cold and sour or mean and aggressive, depending on the day, and Emily thought that was the clear evidence of her love for him. So, when Karen treated him bad, pushing him away, she couldn't understand if she did that to protect herself either form Sean, and the fact that he had hurt her with his behavior, or from the feelings she had for him.
Anyway, the fact was, Emily didn't want Karen to be her enemy, so she tried to keep Sean's flirts at bay in her presence, but if she wasn't there… and she felt free to joke with her friend…
"I will marry you, Sean" she said.
"Will you?"
"Yeah, sure, if you promise you'll do something for me first."
"Anything you want, my lady" said Sean with a deep bow.
"I want to learn how to use a gun."

...

Emily was unaware of what happened a few hours later. She was God knows where, working with Miss Grimshaw, or playing with Jack, or chatting with the girls, it doesn't matter. What matters is that had she missed Arthur talking with Kieran, she had missed Dutch interrupting them, and she had missed Bill taking the bolt cutters to torture Kieran psychologically.
And Kieran wondered how she would have reacted: screaming out in hysterics because what they were doing was inhuman? Or watching the scene from a distance, satisfied by his sufferance? Maybe thinking that he deserved it? Just like the Adler widow had taught her.
Oh, yes. He had seen the change in her attitude since he had refused to speak: she avoided him, she moved her eyes away, condescending, every time it happened she walked past that tree he was tied to. She had no idea of what she was asking him. Blinded by her innocency and good intentions, she couldn't see how Dutch was using her.
Kieran was good too, but he wasn't an idiot. That time, though, he had made a mistake and he admitted it candidly. He thought Dutch would have had him killed, but in the end, it seemed, Emily's trust was well placed. Right before leaving for the O'Driscolls hideout, Dutch expressly told Arthur not to kill him when the job was done, but instead to bring him back.
But she had missed all of that, so when Arthur spared Kieran and let him come back to their camp, and he finally, finally, had that bath he craved so much, and he put on some clean clothes, and he took a plate of steaming stew and reached the campfire to sit down as any other human being, she looked taken aback in seeing him, free and smiling, waiting for her.
"I wanted to speak with you" he said and patted the place next to him.
"H-how… h-how can you…" she muttered looking around to see if the others where aware Kieran was free.
"I'll tell you everything, but first I have to apologize."
She jerked around to frown slightly and reached his side, sitting down slowly and still not fully convinced.
"I was wrong not trusting you. You were right about Dutch, about these people. The truth is: I have lived all my life surrounded by criminals and bad people, not trusting anything that came out of their mouths. But you are different. I can trust you, and your judgement."
"So…" said Emily still watching around to check the reaction of the other people in camp, "you are one of us now?"
One of us. She pronounced those words simply, like she was asking if he was part of a poker club, probably without being aware of what she was accepting to be part of.
"Yes, I am officially a Van der Linde" said Kieran raising his chin up high in fake pride. "We can be friends again now, if you… you know, wanted to be friend with me" he added reaching out a hand.
But she didn't mind the hand, she threw her arms around his neck and held him tight, just the time of a blink, before letting him go and standing up.
"I must go and thank Dutch" she added running away in a hurry.

...

She couldn't believe they had let him go. She couldn't believe Dutch had actually kept his word. She hoped that, of course, she wanted to believe that, but there was something deep inside, a doubt, a ticklish feeling that maybe, and just maybe, Kieran could be right. But no, he was wrong. Dutch had freed him, gave him a chance. She had to thank him.
She run to the other side of camp with a big smile on her face, but the scene that opened to her eyes soon wiped it away. Dutch and Arthur were talking, to tell the truth they were more like arguing, while none other than Lenny was seated at the table near them.
Emily thought to run and hug him, happy as she was to see him back safe and sound, if her attention hadn't been caught by Arthur's words.
"No, I ain't saving that fool" he said with an angry movement of his hand.
Saving? Who needed saving? Emily walked towards Lenny and put a hand on his shoulder noting that he was panting.
"Hey, are you alright?"
"Hey" sighed Lenny between a draw of air and the other, "yeah…fine…how are you?"
"Who needs saving?" she asked gravely.
"Micah. He ended up in jail in Strawberry. They wanna hang him."
Emily had a small startle. She couldn't say she liked Micah, but… hang him? Publicly maybe? Of course, 1899 law, 1899 process and execution.
"What might he have possibly done to receive a death sentence?" she asked sitting down next to him while in the background Arthur and Dutch kept yelling at each other.
"He killed a man it seems."
The blood drained from Emily's face when Lenny answered. Not much for the fact that Micah had killed someone - she was starting to get used to that, as much as one can get used to people killing other people: accepting the news with a little twist of the guts, an expression of disgust on the face, and the word "murderer" stuck in the throat - but because for the first time she had realized the punishment for killing someone, was be killed in turn.
She had killed someone. Once or twice, that didn't matter, because the result was the same: just like Micah, she had to walk to the gallows, if the law had caught her.
What would the sheriff in Valentine say if he knew? What about the deputy? Oh yes, she could picture that: the shock on their faces, the handcuffs around her wrists, the slow and inevitable walk on the muddy street…
Arthur's voice brought her back to reality, when he asked Lenny if he was fine.
"Yeah, course I'm fine" he answered.
"What about you?" Arthur asked her. "You look pale. Something bothering you?"
"No… no" she whispered with her head still half lost in her dark fantasies.
"Arthur, take the kid. Bring him to town, Valentine not Strawberry. Get him drunk" ordered Dutch's voice from the distance.
"You hear the man, come on" Arthur said to Lenny patting his shoulder.
As the two of them went away, Emily asked herself why they had to get Lenny drunk, but the question remained on the back of her mind, while her attention was still on what she had just understood.
She looked up as she heard some steps approaching and watched Dutch taking Lenny's place with a blank stare.
"Is Arthur right? There is something wrong with you too?" he asked.
Emily shook her head, but her gesture was so insecure that Dutch immediately understood she was lying. He frowned and only when she met his narrowed eyes she remembered why she was there.
"I want to thank you, for Kieran, for sparing him, for letting him stay."
"I think he will prove himself useful someday" Dutch cut short, "but there is something that bothers you. What is it?"
Why did he want to play the part of the caring father all of a sudden? He had never cared about Emily, about what bothered her. So, why now? Hosea had opened his mind? Or maybe Dutch was jealous of him and the relationship he had with Emily? She didn't linger on those thoughts, though, and she asked that question that would put at ease her mind.
"We are safe, aren't we?"
Again Dutch frowned and moved on the chair, straightening his back and staring at her.
"I-I mean, as long as we are all together, with you, we will never hang at the end of the noose, right?"
"You mean Micah?" he asked as his expression became sweet and understanding.
"Yeah, Micah" she lied.
"No, I will never let it happen. He is part of the family. You all are."
Emily sighed. She was safe. As long as Dutch was there, as long as she kept being part of that "family", she didn't have to fear any consequence to her actions.

...

A soft crackling from his left guided him. It could have been anything, but he was sure it was his prey. In the twilight of the sunrise, he followed the sound.
That rabbit was the last one, he had already killed three, but he needed at least one more. Twenty people lived in that camp and he wasn't sure four scrawny hares were enough to feed them all, but he couldn't exterminate the entire fauna of the Heartlands either.
A strand of hair slipped from his forehead and blocked his sight, tickling his nose. With a sigh, he moved one hand away from the bow and tucked the hair behind his ear, when a quick movement from behind a tree caught his attention again.
It was moving, one jump at a time, slowly enough to let him draw the arrow towards his chest and take the aim. He sharply inhaled and let it go.
Perfect.
"Oh, Mr. Smith! Thank you kindly!" thundered Pearson as he saw the four rabbits.
"You're welcome."
"Ah ah ah, wait a second. While you're here do you have time for a little errand?"
"What is it?"
"This" said the cook and he took out from under the table two big rolls of pelts.
"These are: hare, deer, those two mountain goats you and Arthur brought the other day and a wolf."
"Whose the wolf?" asked Charles intrigued.
"Erm, Javier I think. I haven't quite understood if he run into the carcass or he got attacked."
Charles wrinkled his nose and let our a deep "uhm". He knew Javier wasn't the type to kill animals for fun, so if he had truly killed that wolf, it must have been for a real reason and a good cause.
"You want me to go sell them?" he asked.
"Yeah, that feller in Valentine makes a good price" answered Pearson.
"Alright."
He took the two rolls and headed to Taima and it was while he was loading them on her back that Emily showed up.
"Hey, ready for the lesson" she said.
"I can't, gotta sell these in Valentine."
"Oh… alright, I'll find something else to do."
"Wait."
Charles's mind had been faster than a lizard running into a bush to hide.
"Why don't you come with me? We can rehearse the basics as we go to Valentine and practice the galloping on the way back."
"Well, I… yeah, I guess I could keep you company."
Have you been hunting? What did you catch? Pearson asked you to sell these, didn't he? Have you heard the news about Micah? Strawberry is quite far from here. How far do you think it is? Why Dutch told Arthur to get Lenny drunk? Where are they by the way? Have you seen them?
Between a question and the other, Charles had barely the time to tell her what order she had to give to Drover. The good thing about her constantly speaking was that, at least, she was too distracted to worry about the horse, and the orders she gave were so natural and straightforward that Drover immediately followed them.
Charles smiled when he noticed it. He knew that the only thing that was keeping her form being a good rider was her fear, so as soon as she put her fear away, she was perfectly capable.
"I'm serious, Charles. Those two worry me. Dutch sent them to Valentine yesterday and they still haven't showed up. Do you think something happened?"
"You said Dutch wanted Lenny drunk, this means he wanted to put Micah out of his mind. Lenny is young, he probably can't handle booze, and Arthur… well, you know how's Arthur when he drinks. They're probably sobering up some place."
"Sobering up? Still? After the entire night?"
Charles chuckled. She had no idea.

...

No, Emily surely couldn't understand. What was the point in getting drunk? Ruin their liver to forget about Micah? Senseless. Just senseless.
"I've seen you made a new purchase, recently" said Charles and only when she heard his voice she realized that silence had fallen between the two of them.
As she frowned at him, Charles pointed to the revolver on her belt.
"Oh, yes. I want to learn how to shoot."
"Why?"
"To protect myself."
"You don't need that to protect yourself, not as long as you are with us."
"Pff, Arthur said the exact same thing."
"And he is right."
"Doesn't matter. I found someone who wants to teach me."
Charles questioned her with his eyes.
"Sean" she said with a satisfied smile.
"Sean?"
"Ah-ah. He accepted right away."
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. Sean is…"
The suspense in his voice pushed Emily to look at him again. Sean is…? What was Sean?
"I mean… I'd ask someone else."
Someone else. Easier said than done. She had thought about someone else already, but he didn't want to.
"Why don't you teach me?" she asked, though she didn't keep her hopes too high.
Charles simply shook his head. Yeah, exactly like she had imagined, he and Arthur were just the same.
They reached town and dismounted their horses. Emily took one of the big rolls of stinky furs and followed Charles to the butcher. He took an infinite amount of time to study carefully every single pelt, from the big one that belonged to the wolf to the little ones of the rabbits, and as it happened that he found some imperfections, bullet holes, scratches, he would tighten his lips and shake his head.
"This is ten cents less" he said pointing to a rip on a deer skin.
"Fine" sighed Charles.
Anyway, as the butcher did all his checks and counts Emily waited patiently next to her friend, moving her eyes around, watching the people walking down the street and for the first time seeing something she hadn't noticed before.
"Charles?"
"Yes."
"Why do people stare at us?"
It was true. People were staring at them. Men, yes, but especially women, those few who lived in Valentine. They looked at her, analyzed her thin shape and sweet traits, then they noticed the big dark man next to her, and immediately after they looked at her again, but in a different way, not worried, but unpleasantly surprised.
"They don't see many white girls going around with colored men" said Charles matter-of-factly.
"But what… oh, you're right. It's 1899."
"Yes, Miss. It's 1899. Time is changing everything. Ten, twenty years ago, they would have lynched your black fellow here just because he rode a horse. Now, we are almost as equals" said the butcher.
Equals. The word made Emily scoff silently. If he only knew what equality meant, but for the time he lived in, the man was surely openminded. At least, he made no distinctions among his customers.
As she kept glancing at those faces people pulled when they saw Charles and her one next to other, Emily saw a figure at horseback and recognizing Lenny she walked in his direction.
"Hey, Lenny!" she called.
He was in terrible shape: his clothes were stained in mud and… vomit? He had two deep dark circles under his eyes and from the sway of his head and the slow blinking of his eyes, she could imagine what kind of night he had had.
"Are you still here in town? Where's Arthur?" she asked.
"At the sheriff. We, erm, had some trouble."
"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" asked Charles.
"Oh, you know how's Arthur when he drinks too much" smiled Lenny and with a kick of his heels he moved away.
Everybody kept saying those words. Why? How was Arthur when he drank? She had seen the people in camp drink, they were just a little too merry and loud. Could he be that different?
"I'm going to the sheriff" said Emily turning around, "see what kind of trouble he was talking about. I'll come back with Arthur."
"As you wish, I'll head back as soon as I'm done here" replied Charles.

...

Arthur, you miserable piece of shit. You are in your fucking mid-thirties and you still act like a sixteen. You are too old for this shit. Now, this headache will last until Christmas and… what is this pain on your knee? Feels like a bruise. Did you fall? Ohh, you can't remember shit, can you? How much did you drink?
He raised his head and stretched his neck cursing under his breath against the uncomfortable bed of the jail. If Dutch knew what he had done… After he told him to lie low… Who was he kidding? He was a fool, just like Micah. There was no difference between the two of them.
"Arthur!"
Shit. He knew that voice, he knew that half blurred shape walking in his direction. Show himself in those conditions to the entire town was a thing, but show himself to her too…
"Hey, I met Lenny, he told me you…"
She stopped all of a sudden and when she spoke again her voice had another pitch.
"George! Hi, how are you?"
"Miss Emily, good to see you" said a young voice from behind Arthur's shoulders.
"I was… coming to the rescue of my friend" she replied with a gesture of her hand, a gesture that to Arthur appeared full of contempt towards him.
"Oh yes… it was just a case of disorderly conduct. Nothing irretrievable."
The level of Arthur shame had reached its peak. Now they had even started to talk about him like he wasn't even there. That was surely enough. He stood up, not without some dizziness, and he stumbled away.
"Erm, yeah, I think we have to go now. See you!" he heard Emily's tinkling voice saying and right after her light steps reached his side.
"What happened? Lenny told me you had some troubles?" she asked in a whisper.
"You heard your friend: "disorderly conduct". Pompous bastard."
"I don't think you were supposed to end up in jail in order to make Lenny forget about Micah and… ugh, you smell terrible."
Boom. First strike. Right to his chest. She found him repulsive.
"Where did you leave your horse?" she asked.
"In front of the saloon. And yo… wait…"
Arthur stopped his attempts to walk straight to turn around and look at her.
"How did you come here?"
"With Charles, we came to sell some pelts."
Boom. Second strike. To his belly. She was with Charles, again.
"Uh… fine let's go back. I need coffee, and some clean clothes."
Arthur mounted on Ares and then waited for her to take Drover and reach him. On the way back she was talkative as always. She talked as nothing had happened: as he hadn't ashamed himself like the moron he was, as George didn't exist, as she hadn't insulted him and hurt him. But she probably hadn't done the last thing on purpose.
"…and Charles too, he doesn't seem too happy about it."
"About what?"
"Me learning how to use a gun. Didn't you listen to me?"
"Sorry, I'm just…my head is killing me. But Charles is right."
"But as I have already told him, it doesn't matter anymore. I found someone who'll teach me."
Despite his head was cracking open for the pain, Arthur jerked it around to look at her. Bad mistake.
"Who?" he asked restraining a moan of pain.
"Sean."
Arthur couldn't help it. He opened his mouth and let out a long and loud laugh, so loud that those few birds on the nearby tree flew away, scared by his loudness.
"Sean? You asked Sean to teach you how to shoot?"
"Why? What's the problem with Sean?"
"He is useless. He couldn't shoot a bear standing right in front of him!"
"Says who?" she asked annoyed.
"Everybody! Ask anybody in camp and they will tell you the same thing."
She let out a puff and rolled her eyes. That girl truly didn't want to give up. She wanted to do that, she wanted to ruin her life over a stupid and utterly wrong idea. Fine, her choice. But at least, if she had to learn, she had to learn properly, without the risk to shoot her own foot. Arthur, for his part, didn't want to have anything to do with that, except maybe give her some advice.
"Anyway, if I were you, I'd ask someone else" he said.
"Like you?"
"No, I already told you, I don't want any part of it. Maybe Javier can help you."
Yeah, Javier was probably a good idea. He was patient, calm. He was better with knives than guns, but he would do just fine.

...

But it turned out Javier wasn't even in camp, when they returned. He was out for a couple of days, following a lead for a certain job.
Feeling her desire slightly fade away and her disappointment raising, Emily went sitting down by the fire. It seemed no matter what she tried and how much she tried, she couldn't learn how to use a fucking gun.
What was her next move? Learn by herself? Or maybe ask someone outside camp who could teach her. Maybe George? He was the sheriff deputy, he had to know. But then, he would have asked questions: why learn to use a gun? Protect yourself from who? And in the end, he would have found out she was living with a bunch of wanted people, or even worse, he would have found out she had killed someone.
Again, the image of herself slowly walking to the gallows made a shiver run down her back. No, the best thing to do was find someone in camp. But who?
Not much time passed before Bill showed up distracting her from her thoughts. He gave her some nervous glances and only after a couple of minutes he asked his question.
That question had been buzzing in his mind for days. Now, he hadn't found a good moment to ask her, because she was always surrounded by the other girls, or always running after Morgan like she was his little lapdog in love. And he surely didn't want the others to think he cared about that or something, or that he believed in the fact that she came from the future, so he needed her to be alone.
"I never asked but…" he started, and he moved the weight of his body from one foot to the other, "what… what men do in the future?"
Emily looked at him, frowning and creating a deep cut in the middle of her forehead.
"What they…do?" she asked.
"Yeah, I mean, what makes a man, a man?"
"Sorry, I'm lost" she said shaking her head.
Bill, snorted and shook his head in turn. It seemed she couldn't understand.
"Ohh, never mind" he said, and the voice came out like a disappointed growl.
"No no no, Bill, come on, explain to me what you want to know and I'll tell you" she replied making him sign to sit next to her.
Bill sighed and took a couple of steps towards her, reaching her side and sitting down on the log.
"What I want to say is… to be a respectable man, a respected man, what do you have to do?"
Her forehead rippled as it seemed she invested all her mental abilities to answer that easy question. Maybe she really was as stupid as she appeared.
"Well, first of all you have to work…"
"What kind of work?"
"Every kind. You can be whatever you want. Merchant, doctor, attorney, everything."
"Okay, then?"
She kept looking at him, probably having no idea of what he wanted to know, or maybe already understanding where he was going with his questions.
"Why all this interest'" she asked.
"Oh, just… just to know."
As her expression changed, letting go of that frown, she reached a hand out and touched his arm, a contact that surprised him, but also made him feel uncomfortable, exposed, violated.
"What is truly that you want to know?" she asked now with a sweet and warm voice.
Bill scoffed and thought that it was better if they closed there that useless conversation, even though there was still something, a curiosity, a need to know. And so, he stayed put, and fixing his eyes on the grassy ground, he talked quickly, without even thinking about the words that were coming out.
"Today, we… do certain things to be men. True men. Like joining the army. They all join the army, to fight, to look tough, but I know what the truth is, everybody knows. It's only a way to… hide. Hide the weakness. They are all weak!"
And saying this he made a fast movement with is arm, pointing something with his finger, something far away, something that didn't exist.
"Weak and meek, like sheep! So, what I want to know is… do men in the future still have to do these things to be considered true men?"
She had finally understood, and with a sympathetic smile and a slight shake of her head she confirmed his hope.
"No, we don't. In the future we don't have this kind of ideas anymore. People are people, regardless of the way they act, the way they dress, the things they do. If a woman want's to dress like a man, why shouldn't she? If a man wants to do a job considered to be only for women, why shouldn't he? If I am a girl, but I want to be a boy, but I still want to love boys, why shouldn't I?"
Now, it was Bill's turn to get lost in the confusion of words she was uttering.
"Wait, wait, you mean… what do you mean?"
"I mean you can do whatever you want, act the way you want, and love who you want."
"Love who you want? You mean like… like them men, them degenerates who go with other men?"
He put a lot of despise on the word 'degenerates', a fake despise, to make her think he truly believed that.
"Don't call them that!" she rebuked. "And don't judge people for what they are and for what they like!
"But they are, right? I mean, they are freaks. Unnatural" he replied, but now he was saying those words hoping that she had disclaimed that.
"No, they're not! They are the most natural thing in the world. Because love is natural. Every kind of love."
That was it, Bill had his answer. In the future, they didn't judge someone on account of that. Men didn't have to act all tough, they didn't have to demonstrate their virility, they didn't have to like women.
"So, if everybody likes, erm, wine, but I like beer, is that okay?" he asked, just to be one hundred percent sure she had understood.
"More that okay" she replied with a big smile.
What a great feeling! He felt lighter, like they had taken away half the weight of his body. If that truly was the future that was awaiting him, it was the best future he could hope
for.

...

Emily liked seeing the change in his eyes. Those eyes always dark and angry, that made him look always focused on something complicated, and that attracted the mocks of everybody in camp, had finally lighted.
What had changed? A new awareness? A new horizon? And why was Bill so interested in that matter? Emily thought she would never know, but she felt she had created a new connection with that strange man.
And… now that she thought about that… yeah, why not? Everybody said Bill was good with guns. He had no patience, for sure, but she wouldn't have minded.
"While we are here, do you mind if I ask you something in turn?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"I want to learn how to use a gun. I asked almost everybody, but some don't want to and some others… apparently they aren't fit for the task. But you are a good fighter, they always say it, so I was thinking…"
Bill's eyes widened in surprise.
"You want me to teach you how to shoot?"
Emily shrugged and smiled. What choice did she have?
"I-I… well, I guess… I guess I can return the favor."
"Good. When do we start?"
"I-I… T-tomorrow, I think. Yeah, tomorrow. We find a good spot, far from here and I'll teach you how to use that goddamn gun!"

...

That night felt strange. Emily felt strange, different. Peaking at the starry night from under her tent, she felt older, heavier,
She lifted from the carpets and bedrolls under her and gave a look around. Mary-Beth on one side, Tilly on the other, Karen a little bit away. They were all fast asleep, but Emily that night couldn't follow their example.
She stood up, slowly and quietly, and left behind their rhythmic and muffled breathings to head to the light of the campfire, still burning although the last log had been thrown in much time before. It must have been really late because the camp was empty. Everybody had already reached their tents, sleeping or lying down as the chaotic memories of the day crowded their minds.
For the first time in her life, she felt the need to be alone. A very strange feeling, indeed, but she had to sort out her thoughts and she had to that on her own. So she sat down and as an impulse took her, she lifted her eyes towards the sky again.
She had never seen all those stars in her entire life. Impossible if you live in a city, or even near a city, because the strong lights outshine the feeble ones of the stars. That wasn't the first discovery, though, was it? In those weeks how many things had she learned? Her world had completely disappeared, but in its place a new one was born, far from the almost perfect one she came from, but surely interesting and sort of adventurous.
And now, what was that new feeling? Curiosity? More like a will, a desire, a quest.
That sky, so incredibly beautiful, black and blue sprinkled with silver, made the words of an old song come to her mind: "and I will learn to know the skies I'm under." And that old song took every part of her brain, so that now she had started humming the tune.

(Music: again no link. Look for Hopeless Wanderer by Mumford & Sons)

It was a rather cheerful tune, but also there was something sad in it. Something melancholic, that reminded her of a rubber band: it doesn't matter how much you push forward, trying to reach the happiness, it will always pull you back to the longing. And then she started murmuring the words: "I came out of the woods by choice."
It had to be her choice. She might have stayed the way she was, or she might have tried something new, be someone new.
Yes, that sky, that night, that song stuck in her head were creating a will, a desire, a quest. She thought about them all. Arthur, Charles, Hosea, Mary-Beth, Abigail…nomads, with no roots, no house, no certainties and no stability, but in exchange they had new places, new people, new experiences, the entire world provided every day for them to take it.
A will, a desire, a quest. She wanted to explore, for real this time, not like when she played with Jack. She wanted to do what Arthur had done, try that aimless roaming that had appeared so useless to her at the beginning, but that maybe had its use after all.
Yes, it didn't seem such a terrible life and she wanted to learn, be like them. She had learned how to ride, more or less, she was about to learn how to defend herself, and after that she just had to learn how to live that life. How to be a hopeless wanderer.

Hello again!

Now, I'll bring you to a journey inside my head, so to make you understand how it works: I had been thinking about how to write this chapter for a week, and I'm not joking, seven days straight. Then, Friday, in the afternoon, I got the enlightenment and wrote most of it. Then, blank again until last night, when I finally got the inspiration for the ending (thank you Mumford & Sons).

So, yes, thanks to my head for playing these tricks on me.

I wanted to embrace the "homosexual Bill" theory because I truly believe he is. The first time I run across the dialogue between Charles and John, when they say "Bill likes no-one, except that Kieran maybe" that was my first thought, and later when I found the letter of dishonorable discharge from the army, my idea was half confirmed. SO, I don't know if it is true, but I like to think it is.

I don't know if I'll be on time with the next chapter, but wait for it, because I'm not giving up, even if I have to write 100 other things for my university in the meantime, but hey, better busy than bored.

That's all for now. Have a good day/night/week and...

see you soon!