Hard times is here and everywhere you go
Times are harder than they ever been before
You know that people, they all a'driftin' from door to door
Can't find no heaven, I don't care where they go
People, if I ever can get up off of this old hard killin' floor
Lord, I'll never get down this low no more.
Skip JamesFor something like ten seconds, Rane Roth simply gaped at Sadie Adler and John Marston, her mouth hanging slightly open, the wind teasing the ends of her hair across her forehead, her dark brows knitted. Not one of them moved or spoke, and the only sound was the crackle of the late Kid Curry's campfire and the whistle of the cold wind through the pine boughs around them.
After a moment Rane sheathed her sword, straightening, her eyes still flicking between Sadie and John, the firelight casting her face into sharp resolution. She was as startlingly beautiful as John remembered, but she looked . . . weathered, somehow. Aged. The angles of her cheekbones were far sharper now, and her eyes had lost some of their luster, too, like cold embers after a fire.
"You the one who's been stealin' all my bounties?" said Sadie, gesturing at her and smirking.
Rane snorted in spite of herself. "Your bounties? You mean my bounties?"
John strode abruptly forward, brushing past Sadie, and without another word he put his arms around Rane and drew her to his chest tightly. She stiffened against his touch, as if she wasn't used to the nearness of another human, but he barely noticed; the smell of her hair, terribly familiar, and the warmth of her skin against his was robust and expressive and alive , and he laughed roughly, resting his cheek against her forehead, his heart beating hard.
"You goddamned idiot, we all thought you were dead all this time."
Rane drew away, looking up at him with frank incredulity. "What the hell are you guys doing all the way out here?"
"Lookin' for you, mostly."
John was struggling to not embrace her again. Now that the initial shock of seeing her again had started to fade, he was shocked at the flood of freshly reawakened emotion that was rushing through him at the sight of her, as if three weeks had passed rather than three years. It was like some hidden wound he had not even been fully aware of had been lanced to bleed fresh inside him.
Rane's eyes cut over to Sadie, a little suspicious. "And why would you be looking for me?"
"Because we got things to discuss. And you don't let any grass grow beneath your feet these days, it seems." Sadie shook her head. "Come talk to us, Rane. Please. It took a long time for me to find ya. Lotta money lost, too, I don't mind saying," she added, smirking.
Rane looked between them for a moment, then sighed.
"Alright, well, I have to lug this guy back to Valentine anyways, you guys feel like grabbing a drink? Catch up? I'm freezing my ass off out here."
"Sounds good," said Sadie at once. "John, you feel up for it? Abigail expectin' you back?" She added pointedly, eyeing him.
"No, no, that's fine," said John, making brief eye contact with Sadie as he strode past her. "I'll get the horses."
"You sure?" Sadie turned and watched his departing form when he didn't answer, her brow furrowed. "Hey! You sure, John?"
John lifted a thumbs-up at his side, not looking back as he strode away. Sadie turned to Rane, who was also watching him walk away, a slightly disquieted expression on her face.
"Girl, you look like shit. How've you been living?"
"Rough," Rane admitted, glancing over her shoulder and whistling between her fingers. "I'm a strictly outdoor cat these days."
"That Eli?" Sadie studied the black stallion as he trotted over to Rane, tossing his head.
"The one and only. I wouldn't sell this kid to Solomon himself, he's a keeper." Rane slapped Eli's hindquarters amiably. He whickered, his breath shooting out of his nostrils in white puffs. "Ain't ya, you cocky bastard, you? Big handsome son of a bitch."
Sadie stuffed her hands into her pockets. "We got a lot to talk about, Rane. I just feel like I ought to warn you."
Rane stopped stroking Eli's withers and glanced at Sadie over her shoulder. "We do?"
"Yeah. 'Fraid so."
Rane eyed her a moment speculatively, then jerked her head after John. "Is it about him?"
Sadie glanced toward the mountain, where John was now striding back down toward them, leading their horses, skidding a little in the snow.
"Yes and no. Not here, Rane," she added as Rane opened her mouth to inquire further. "Let's save all this long talk for the saloon. Okay?"
Rane pursed her lips, then shrugged and nodded, turning back to Eli. "If you say so. Do me a favor and help me get this big smelly asshole onto my horse, will you?"
"You can't magic him up there yourself?" Sadie asked her dryly as Rane made for Kid Curry's corpse. Rane glanced over her shoulder at Sadie, her expression wry in the firelight.
"Let's save that one for beers too, darling."
THE Valentine saloon was as crowded and hectic as it had been when John and Sadie had left it some time before, filled to the brim now with rowdy ranchers in hectic good cheer. The exuberance of a bountiful cattle season was going to linger for weeks, and for good reason, but they were nevertheless none too pleased to see the joint so lively this evening.
"Sure are a lot of people here," Rane muttered, glancing around.
"So what?" said John.
"So I've got a dead celebrity on my horse out there and Pinkertons and MACUSA bird-dogging me in four states. I try to stay out of this place if it's packed to the gills like this."
"Listen to you, chompin' your bit like a nervous jenny." Sadie was brushing off her tunic, quite at her ease. "None of these boys give a rat's ass about you, they're just happy their cattle are sellin' so dear. Most of 'em probably couldn't pour piss out of a boot with a hole in the toe and directions on the heel, they're so knee-walkin' drunk. You're fine."
Rane sighed, sounding resigned. "Fine. Sit down, I'll be right back."
She was striding off through the crowd before John or Sadie could protest further, They sat down at the neatest vacant table, both watching her leering over the bar, one knee cocked and her long braided hair hanging down her back. The barkeep clearly recognized her; he reached out and took one of her hands in both of his own, planting a kiss on it and laughing with obvious delight. Sadie eyed John, leaning back a little in her chair.
"Hey you."
"Hey yourself." John turned back to her, mouthing a smoke from his pack and lighting it. "I bet you're about to ask me how I'm feelin' about all this now that she's here, ain't ya?"
"You caught me."
John drew deep on the cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke before answering. "Sadie, it's been a lotta years between then and now. I'm fine. I ain't all twisted up inside anymore like I was."
"Oh, ain't ya? I heard somethin' different on the ride up to Ambarino." Sadie was eyeing him skeptically. "Time passing don't mean shit, John. I haven't seen Jake in a coon's age and I still love him just as dear as I did when we first met. I only ask because I worry about you."
"Worry about what? Jesus Christ, here we fuckin' go again, just like before -!"
"Mostly that I made a mistake, bringin' you two back around each other. I don't wanna see you up-end your life over it, is all, not when you're doin' so well."
"I'm a married man," said John bluntly, and when Sadie opened her mouth he held up a hand. "Quit , Sadie. Just quit. That's got nothing to do with why we're here."
Sadie sighed, rolling up her sleeves. "Alright, alright, sorry. I'm just worried, is all."
"Well, worry about yourself for a change instead of me," said John, a little crossly.
Rane had appeared at the table again. now balancing three glasses and a heavy pitcher full of an ale so dark it was almost black. These she deposited onto the tabletop before pulling out a chair.
"What the hell is it?" said John, eyeing the beer dubiously. "Molasses?"
"So, my boy Ephraim over there behind the bar happens to be a very accomplished brewmaster," said Rane, pouring glasses and sliding them over to Sadie and John. "This is one of those secret menu sorts of things, it's a German porter he makes out of persimmons in his shed out back, and when I tell you it's better than sex, I'm not exaggerating." She lifted her glass before drinking long. "L'chaim."
"God damn!" John remarked, looking at the glass in his hand with something like wonder. "That is pretty damn good!"
"Told ya." Rane sketched a little chef's kiss. "Apparently he spent about six months in Düsseldorf working in some fancy distillery. Seems to me like he must have learned a thing or two."
"You been spendin' a lot of time in here, have you?" Sadie asked, eyeing Rane shrewdly over the rim of her glass. "You know what they say about gettin' neighborly with the barkeep."
Rane finished off half her beer in a go and topped it off, smirking a little. "Well, if we're being honest, I can't remember the last time I went a full twenty-four sober, Sadie. Which suits me just fine." She wiped at her mouth, her smile fading. "Keeps the demons tucked in, doesn't it?"
This statement hung between the three of them, and for a moment the subject of Arthur Morgan was very near, practically begging to be addressed. John cleared his throat before she could say any more. He didn't have quite enough persimmon porter in his belly just yet.
"So Kid Curry, huh?"
Rane nodded, chewing her lip, clearly kindling to this change of subject. "Friend of yours?"
"No, but I sure have heard plenty about him. I wouldn't even look cross-eyed at anybody associated with Butch Cassidy, myself, those are some big fish."
A broad grin lit Rane's mouth at this. It was a lopsided, rather devil-may-care smile, turning the corners of her eyes up and making her suddenly and shockingly beautiful. In that moment the pall of bleak desolation that seemed to be draped over her was whisked away, and she was the blithe, sarcastic young woman John had known three years ago, not yet weighted by the tribulations that followed.
"Would you look at that? John Marston, the storied desperado of yesteryear, hedging his goddamned bets. If I hadn't heard it with my own ears, I'd never have believed it." She eyed him merrily. "Butch Cassidy hoofed it for Argentina when he fell out with Logan, so I think I'm safe on that front. Shame, he's probably worth a big ticket these days," she added, sipping her beer and looking a little disappointed. "Sadie, were you gunning for Logan too? Was that how you knew I was coming?"
"Somethin' like that," Sadie remarked, smiling herself. "Sheriff Longfellow sorta dropped some hints that you were on the payroll. You know how he is, with that ten-gallon mouth of his."
"Yeah, it's getting him to shut up that's the trick." Rane sighed, rubbing her forehead. "So what is it you guys want? I don't exactly get the feeling you just missed my company."
"Hang on, first of all I wanna know where you been all these years," John asked her frankly.
Rane shrugged. "Shit, I dunno. I worked for the Wapiti for a little while, but that started feeling a little too domestic so I went off on my own and started taking bounties. Never really put roots down after that." She downed the rest of her beer in one and refilled it with gusto. "Also stayed pretty tanked for most of it, as you guys can probably tell."
"And you got Pinkertons after you?" asked Sadie.
Rane belched. "In spades. Hence the not putting roots down part."
"Hell, you coulda come lookin' for one of us, at least so we'd have known you weren't dead," said John, a trifle reproachfully.
Rane looked down at her beer, more than a little chagrined by this. "I could have, yeah," she said, her voice dropping. "Being alone seemed easier. I haven't exactly been in the greatest headspace these last few years, John."
A silence fell between them as the bar patrons around them continued their boisterous revelries. The abrupt heaviness that had befallen their conversation seemed at odds with the cheerful laughter and rattling piano.
"What happened to y'all that night?" John asked her, seeming to force the question out almost against his will. "After Arthur made me leave?"
Rane didn't answer right away. She wasn't looking at John; her eyes were still on her beer, her long hair coming free of the braid and hanging in her face in strings. Her brows were knit, her mouth very thin.
"I figured we would end up here before the night was done," she said at last, and threw back her drink. It was her third one, and when she spoke again there was a definite touch of booze in her voice now. She looked up at John, meeting his gaze. "Micah flanked us, he shot a hole in me big enough to put your fist in, the fucking asshole. It was pretty much just him against . . ."
She paused, blinking, pursing her lips before going on.
". . . him against Arthur after that. And Arthur was . . . he wasn't doing well by then." She shook her head, an expression of sudden, startling vitriol passing across her face, turning her almost lupine. "Micah just beat the everloving Christ out of him, man. Just . . . whaled on him. And I couldn't do jack fucking shit about it, because he broke my wand and I was bleeding out in the snow during all this. Two seconds, that's all I would have needed. Just to turn around and see him before he blew a hole through me, and then maybe things would have been different."
Rane snatched up the pitcher and poured herself another glass, her hand shaking a little against the handle now. Sadie, watching her with a slightly horrified expression, drank deep on her own beer.
"You can't blame yourself for that," said John quietly, looking at her. "You can't think that way."
Rane ignored this, slamming the pitcher back down and swallowing a mouthful before pressing on.
"Dutch showed up at the end of it."
"Dutch?" said Sadie, low. "What'd he do?"
Rane scoffed. "What did he do? He just stood there and WATCHED!"
Her voice suddenly rose to nearly a shout on the last word, and she slammed the flat of her hand onto the table loudly. A few nearby patrons glanced over at her. Both Sadie and John jumped. Rane sighed roughly, glancing around her a little self-consciously, then cleared her throat and straightened, looking at her hands.
"Sorry." She lifted her beer and drank heartily. "He didn't say a single word. Just . . . stood there. He was touring the fucking solar system by then, it was like the engine was running but there was nobody behind the wheel. Anyways, then the both of them took off, I think. I was pretty out of it by then. Eli showed up and I got onto his back. He took me to a doctor, the doctor stitched me up, I ran away in the night and went to the Wapiti. They kept me with them until I was able to walk again, some two or three weeks later, I guess. And I stayed on with them, doing stuff they asked. To say thank you, y'know." She drank her beer, glaring at Sadie and John. "Then I fucked off. Which brings us to this week's episode."
Sadie and John were watching her, both their faces long with dismay. Sadie cleared her throat.
"Okay," she said, and shifted her weight, looking uncomfortable. "Okay, well . . . well, Rane, we got somethin' to tell you."
"Which one is it?"
Sadie fell silent, her brows knitted. "Huh?"
Rane drank long on her beer, leaving only a scrim at the bottom of the glass. "Is it Dutch or Micah? Which one?"
"It's Micah," said John, meeting her eyes. "Sadie thinks she knows where he is."
Rane chewed her mouth, looking between him and Sadie for a long few moments, her eyes bright and acute beneath her brows, running her fingers around the rim of her glass.
"You've been lookin' for him too," said John shrewdly, eyeing her. "Ain't you?"
"Without much luck," said Rane softly, shaking her head. She was sitting there as still as a predator preparing to strike, and John cared for her expression not at all. He had seen it before. "He's a slippery son of a bitch. Both of them are."
Sadie leaned forward, meeting Rane's eyes. "Rane, we wanna go after him. Us three, together. That's why we came after you."
"To put the band back together?" Rane snorted, shaking her head. "Is he nearby?"
"I dunno. I'm not sure yet, but I know where we can start lookin'. Cleet turned up in Strawberry, southwest of here. Micah won't be far behind him."
Rane leaned back in her chair, running both hands down her face and staring off into the bar. "When do we leave?"
Sadie and John exchanged a glance. "Tomorrow," said Sadie. "Can you ride with us tomorrow, John?"
"How come you keep askin' me that like I gotta get permission from my mama first? Yes, goddammit, I can ride with ya tomorrow."
"Tomorrow." Rane tossed back the rest of her beer, getting to her feet. "Well if it's gonna be tomorrow, I hope you guys won't find it too unseemly if I hit the sack, I'm drunk and worn out from chasing Logan across the country and tomorrow I'm going to have to listen to the Sheriff talk my ear off for half an hour when I turn him in -"
"Come out to Pronghorn Ranch, stay with us. Both of ya," John added, glancing at Sadie. "Mister Geddes won't mine, he's a nice enough man. I expect he'd put you both up in the house for a couple bucks if I vouched for ya."
Rane snorted, casting him a wry smile. "I heard Sadie talking about Abigail earlier, John. I bet she'd have some choice words for you if she knew you were inviting me over right now."
"She ain't gonna say nothing about it."
"No, she won't, because I'm gonna buy a room here," Rane agreed. "How about we meet at your ranch tomorrow morning, John? Try to keep my presence to a minimum."
"Abigail don't think that low of you, Rane," said John, looking a little abashed. "Christ, she knows you saved our lives more times than I can count on one hand."
"Now, that ain't exactly true," said Sadie pointedly. "Rane, you ain't gonna get a warm welcome, I think it suffices to say."
"I'd be surprised if I did."
John rolled his eyes. "You know where it is, I take it?"
"I know where Pronghorn is, yeah," said Rane, smirking. "That's where you're holed up these days, huh? Holy shit, you've gone full-on domestic, John Marston."
Sadie snorted, striding away. "I said the same thing. Get some rest."
"If I show up to collect you tomorrow, I'm not going to get my eyes claws out, right?" Rane asked John, smirking a little. He shook his head, smiling.
"No, you ain't." He grasped her hand in his own, and Rane allowed him to hold it for only a moment before pulling away. This was getting too close as it was. "We'll be ready for you. Dawn or nearish?"
"You farmer boys, always up with the sun," said Rane, turning from him a little briskly as she started away. "I'll see you then. 'Night."
"Hey, hang on, Rane, there's one more thing."
She stopped, turning. John drew close to her, digging in his satchel, meeting her eyes.
"I got somethin' I think you should have." He produced a little leather-bound book, handing it to her. She took it, bewildered. "I had this a long time but I think it oughta live with you, think he'd want that."
"What is it?" Rane frowned down at the little book curiously. It was ancient and worn, the surface scuffed and scratched up, as if it had traveled far and been dearly loved in some other lifetime.
"It belonged to Arthur. He kept a sort of diary, always had since I was a kid."
Rane looked at him sharply, an expression of surprised hurt crossing his face. "This was Arthur's?"
John nodded. He hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder, offering her a wan little smile. "It's good to see you again, Rane. Damn good."
With this he turned and loped off towards the door, shoving between the rowdy bar patrons. Rane watched him go, her brow furrowed, then looked down at the little journal in her hands.
