When all of this is said and done
You will be alone
'Cause I know this won't last forever
Here's a toast to your unknown
Mother of us all
You and I are one together
I know this won't last forever
But I wish this would last forever
I know this won't last forever
But I wish this would last forever
- Rebelution
John and Sadie were dismounted in the space of a second behind Rane, leaving both their surprised, stamping mounts behind without tying them, but Rane was already far ahead, her hair falling loose of the knot at the top of her head and wafting in the wind, her arms swinging at her sides.
"Rane, get your ass back here!" John hissed sharply, drawing the surprised gazes of several severe-looking women standing near the livery. He offered them a half-assed smile. "'Scuse me, ladies, my friend, she's just . . ." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Rane! I know damn well you hear me -!"
Rane halted reluctantly, looking impatient. "Well, come on! You got lead in your shoes? He's gonna try to light out if we don't hurry up!"
Sadie reached her and shoved at her shoulder gently, her expression dismayed. "We just agreed about three minutes ago we'd do this together, so quit rushin' off by yourself! You're too used to bounty-hunting for your own damn good, girl!"
John readjusted his belt, looking towards the inn, trying to think fast.
"Sadie, you go 'round back," he said, jerking his head. "There's a door facing the river on the other side. Me and Rane will go in the front way. You find him first, you hold him, but don't let him get no further on. And don't get shot," he added forbiddingly.
Sadie strode off without another word, drawing her gun and letting it hang loosely at her side. Rane glanced at John, the snow falling around her. He leaned towards her, his gaze hard.
"Don't," he said sternly, "kill him. Not till we get somethin' out of him about Micah."
"What do I look like, a hair trigger?"
"A little bit, yeah." John gestured at the pocket where she'd stowed her flask, brushing past her. "A soggy one, at that. Just don't do nothin' stupid, is all I'm asking."
Rane followed him, her expression a little dire, but she said nothing. They reached the porch of the inn, their boots hitting the wood hollowly, and John opened the door gingerly, one hand on the butt of his gun. The innkeeper was just inside, poring over a pile of papers through a pair of thick reading glasses. He looked up as they entered, his brow furrowed, his eyes almost comically magnified by his specs, which looked as thick as soda bottles.
"Can I help you?" he asked, eyeing them with some trepidation. "We don't rent by the hour, mister, just so it's said -"
"We ain't here for that, "said John, waving this off, a trifle red-faced. "A man just came in here, which way'd he go?"
"Sir, I must insist you holster your weapon indoors, this is an upstanding business and we do not suffer ruffians in this establishm -"
Rane pulled her sword with a clang, aiming it at the innkeeper. He leapt backward with surprising agility for a man his age, overturning his chair with a clatter and sending a large sheaf of his papers to the floor in a flurry, his eyes wide behind his specs.
"Madam!" he gasped.
"Give me your hands and get back up against that wall," said Rane roughly, lifting her chin. The innkeeper did at once, looking frightened. John cast her a furious look.
"What did I say about making trouble?"
Rane ignored him. "I'm a bounty hunter and this man is my associate," she said, meeting the innkeeper's terrified gaze and speaking briskly. "The guy who just walked through those doors is wanted for murder in the first degree, and if he gets away on your account I'll be back here looking for the money you cost me, my dude, make no mistake about it."
The innkeeper gaped at her, mouthing like a fish out of water.
"Which way did he go, amigo?" asked Rane roughly, brandishing her sword a little. "Don't make me ask you another time, God help you."
The man eyed her for another moment, then aimed a trembling hand toward the back. Rane sheathed her sword and swept away without another word. John cast the innkeeper an apologetic look as he followed her, walking backwards and showing the man his palms.
"She don't mean nothin' by it."
"Okay, sure, whatever you say."
"Don't you call the authorities, mister, we won't thank you for that." John found, with a touch of grim amusement, that threatening a stranger didn't come nearly as naturally as it had three or four years ago. Maybe he had gone domestic, after all. "You sit there and be gentle while we tend to this, you hear?"
"Yessir, absolutely not, I'd never."
The back door was already banging shut, and John could hear the thudding of Rane's footsteps as she took off running in the dirt road. He hurried after her, certain she'd spotted Cleet. If she was worked up enough to aim a blade at some innocent little old man, he felt fairly certain she was worked up enough to put it through somebody's chest if the fancy took her, and he couldn't have that happening, not yet anyways. There was the sound of a tussle in the road outside now, and a male voice shouting in surprise.
"Don't kill him!" he shouted as he shouldered the door open, charging out into the street. "Don't kill him, Rane, hang on now! Lemme talk to him first, dammit!"
It was in fact not Rane but Sadie that had tackled Cleet to the ground, clouting him across the face once, and presently he lay on his back in the dirt, staring up at her uneasily. Rane was prowling around the outskirts of this encounter, her sword held loosely at her side, watching Cleet with an expression of predatory alertness, like a lioness waiting for her turn at a carcass. Sadie kicked at Cleet's side, drawing a breathy cry from him.
"What the hell you people want outta me?" Cleet cried, looking between the three of them with bewilderment. "Jesus Christ, I ain't done nothin' to none of ya!"
"What, you don't remember us?" said Sadie roughly. "Take a good long look, you son of a bitch."
"I don't know any one of ya, I never seen you before in my life!"
"What about him? You recognize him?" said Rane loudly, gesturing at John. And when Cleet's eyes slid away from hers, she lifted her voice to a sudden, pitchy shout: "LOOK at him, Cleet! LOOK AT HIM!"
Cleet's eyes met John's, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth, and though he said nothing, Rane could see the recognition dawning in his eyes. It brought fear with it, almost terror, and he lifted both his hands in front of his face, cowering.
"Hey, look, now, I don't want no trouble -"
"You don't want no trouble?" John leaned over Cleet, grasping a handful of his shirt in one hand, and punched him hard in the face. It was the first time he'd hit someone since some six months prior, before he had been forced to take to the roads again with Abigail and Jack, and though he didn't know it then his knuckles would bruise from fingertips to wrist for weeks from that punch. In that moment, so inflamed with anger, he hardly felt it at all. "You shoulda thought of that before you caused us so much damn trouble, I guess, huh?"
He aimed a kick at Cleet that took him in the chin, throwing him backwards. He spit a copious amount of blood onto the dirt, coughing, glaring up at John.
"You don't know nothin' about what happened back then, boy -!"
"I AIN'T NO BOY! WHERE'S MICAH?" John bellowed, and punched him again, teeth bared. There were passers-by watching now, but this was Strawberry; the beating of a man in the street was not so terribly unusual here. "WHERE'S MICAH, CLEET?"
"I ain't seen Micah!"
"WHERE IS HE, CLEET?"
"I don't know! We fell out!" Cleet's mouth was red with his own blood as well as John's, and he was staring up at him with genuine fear. "We fell out! Christ almighty, don't hit me no more! I don't know nothin'!"
Rane strode forward, aiming her sword, and kneeling next to him she placed the business end at the base of his throat, holding the helm at her side with both hands and meeting his eyes. He froze, looking at her, terrified.
"You remember me?" she asked him softly. "You remember my face?"
Cleet shook his head minutely, daring to move only just, his eyes wide.
"But you remember Arthur Morgan? I bet you remember him. Big, wide-shouldered, good-looking blonde guy, fast with his guns, close in Dutch's ear. That ring a bell in your dull ass head?"
Cleet nodded, terrified.
"Well, that was my man," said Rane, deadly quiet. "And you and yours got him killed, and I'm a little bit sore about it. I'm gonna give you one chance to keep your breath in your chest, and that's by telling us where Micah Bell is. So you look at John right now and you start talking, or so help me I'm gonna cut your fucking throat out. You hear me?"
Cleet gaped at her a moment longer, his mouth opening and closing haplessly. Rane leaned back and with a sharp, almost imperceptibly quick motion her sword flew into a broad circle around her wrist, slashing backwards. A long, deep gash appeared in Cleet's thigh, and he cried out, blood dashing from the wound. Rane aimed her sword back at his throat.
"SAY!" she said loudly, her eyes bright. "Next time I won't cut so shallow!"
"Okay, okay, Jesus Christ, let me alone!" Cleet cried, grasping his leg. "He's up in the mountains! I think . . . I think he's at Mount Hagen!"
"Mount Hagen?" Sadie eyed him, bewildered. "Why's he up there?"
"I don't know, hell, he turned me loose! He tried to kill me!" Cleet was still clutching his bleeding thigh. "Jesus, lady, I think you hit somethin' important -!"
"What's he doin' up there?" John asked roughly.
"Shit, I dunno, I said! He's got a whole gang now! Bad men doin' bad things! The hell do you think he's doing? Same thing he always does, I guess!" Cleet groaned. "After all that shit with him killin' that Morgan bastard, he went on a spree, started doin' all manner of mad shit. I ain't never seen him act that way, he was all over the place."
Rane eyed him, her face suddenly oddly flaccid. "That Morgan bastard."
"Rane." Sadie was watching her a little warily. "Steady on, girl."
"Look, I don't know, I was just workin' for him, Jesus Christ." Cleet clutched his leg, looking at Rane brashly. "I need a doctor, goddammit -!"
"You don't need a doctor, boy, you need a coroner," said Rane, her voice very low, and with a sudden, brutal swing of her sword Cleet's head was parted with his shoulders. It landed a few feet away, rolling into the snow-choked gutter and vanishing from sight. Sadie and John recoiled, taking a step back in surprise. Cleet's body twitched a moment, still upright, then fell over, blood running from his neck, trembling in the snow.
"Jesus!" John gasped, looking at Rane, shocked. "You didn't have to do that!"
Rane ran her sword through a wad of her cloak, glaring at him beneath her brows. "John Marston, you've been living indoors too long," she remarked, very cold, and sheathing her sword with a clang she turned to Sadie. "Where's Mount Hagen?"
"It ain't far, but Rane, you can't be takin' boys' heads off on the way there," said Sadie, looking around her uneasily. There were townspeople watching them from their porches, curious, murmuring behind cupped hands. "We're supposed to be keeping a low profile, for Christ's sake."
Rane whistled between her fingers, turning, looking for Eli. He appeared around the corner, trotting towards her.
"You guys were just gonna let him go?" she asked, pulling her flask from her pocket again. "What, did you think he was just gonna go live a chaste life and give up all his demons? Come on. You aren't so simple as all that."
"It ain't about fretting for Cleet's immortal soul, it's about keeping this shit quiet," said John chastisingly. He was starting in the other direction, scanning for Rachel. "Christ, you get so damn busted up over shit, Rane, you always have -"
"WELL, DO YOU BLAME ME?" Rane suddenly shouted, whirling towards him, her eyes wild. John stopped, surprised. "AFTER WHAT HAPPENED, DO YOU BLAME ME?" She gestured at the headless corpse she had just created with the hand that held her flask. "HE HELPED GET ARTHUR KILLED!"
"LOOK AT YOU!" John bellowed back, suddenly angry, spinning around. He aimed a finger at her. "YOU HAD ALL THE MAKINGS TO GO ON AND DO SOMETHING DECENT WITH YOURSELF, RANE, YOU HAD A BETTER CHANCE THAN ANY OF US, BUT INSTEAD YOU DECIDED TO CHASE AFTER PETTY CRIMINALS FOR MONEY YOU DON'T NEED AND DRINK YOURSELF TO DEATH! YOU THINK I'M GONNA TAKE ANY KIND OF MORAL HIGH GROUND YOU TRY FOR WITH THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF VALUE, YOU BETTER THINK AGAIN, GIRL! DAMN, BUT AIN'T I DISAPPOINTED IN THE WAY YOU TURNED OUT!"
Rane stared into his eyes, breathing quickly, frozen by his words. Sadie, standing by John's side, said nothing, only watched them warily. The people who had been drawn by the fray with Cleet were also watching this, some of the women with their aprons drawn up over their faces.
"That's a hell of a thing to say to me," said Rane after a long moment, her voice soft with dismay.
"Yeah, well, choppin' a feller's head clean off was a hell of a thing to do," said John quietly. He turned and whistled loudly. "We need to get outta here. Law don't look on too kindly when people part men's heads from their shoulders and my family don't need no more trouble than we already got."
THE three of them were riding away from Strawberry some ten minutes later. No lawmen had taken notice of Cleet, thankfully enough - John suspected he wouldn't be sorely missed, judging by his priors - but Rane was grimly silent, clopping along astride Eli some ways behind them, her head low. After a moment Sadie heeled her mustang.
"I gotta make water," she said, sliding out of her saddle. "Watch my horse."
John watched her stride off into the brush, then slid off Rachel himself, pressing his hat down on his head a little further. Behind him, Rane was slipping off Eli as well, smoothing the snow from his mane. John watched her a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets, then cleared his throat.
"Hey."
Rane glanced at him, a little hesitant. "Yeah?"
"Come over here a second."
Rane did, eyeing him warily.
"I'm sorry for back there," he said, shaking his head. "Truly I am."
Rane shook her head, waving this off, looking a little uncomfortable. "You don't have to apologize."
"No, I think I do." John rubbed his forehead ruefully. "It's just . . . you gotta understand, we've been on and off the road so much these past few years, and now here we are finally a little bit settled and making some money . . . I don't wanna risk uprooting us again, you know what I mean? I already fucked it up enough as it is, Jack's too damn young to be moving so much -"
"John, you can talk about how out of line you were for jumping my ass all damn day, but I just decapitated a guy," said Rane, looking grimly amused. "There's a pretty clear winner here."
"Yeah, well." John shifted his weight, glancing over Rane's shoulder a little surreptitiously. Sadie was still in the woods. He hadn't gotten a chance to be completely alone with her since they'd come across her. "I won't say he didn't deserve it."
Rane glanced at him wryly, one side of her mouth curving into a little smirk. "You think he deserved to get his head lopped off for calling Arthur a bastard? That doesn't seem a little, I dunno, superfluous to you?"
"I just . . ." Rane growled low in her throat, shaking her head and placing both hands on her hips. "I feel like I spend all the time pissed off anymore. When he said that name, I just . . . man, I saw red. I thought it would die down a little bit over the years but it's still so close sometimes."
John met her eyes for a moment, rocking a little bit on his heels, chewing his lip.
"I got somethin' to say to you ain't gonna be easy for me to say," he said at last, speaking a little quickly.
Rane looked instantly wary. John laughed at her expression, feeling a little out of sorts.
"You don't even know what I'm gonna say yet, Jesus Christ, Rane -"
"No, I know what you're gonna say," said Rane, low, looking at the dirt. Her voice was resigned and a little sad. "But go ahead and say it, get it on out."
"At least look at me, would you?"
She did. A long moment of silence passed between them. Rane kept her gaze firmly on his, and John returned it, feeling out of place. Her eyes were bright and lovely on hers, her mouth turned down. She was terribly beautiful in the low light, with the snowflakes drifting down around her.
"I gotta say it, Rane, I haven't quit loving you all these years," he said, his voice very low. "Not for a goddamned second. Not even after Arthur. I "
Rane exhaled softly, dropping her gaze and shaking her head.
"I don't think you loved me in the first place, John, let alone kept on for three fucking years."
"Well, you don't know everything." He hesitated, then muttered, "fuck it"
He leaned forward and placing one hand on her cheek pressed his mouth against hers gently. For a moment her lips were the world, the taste of her fantastically fetching and familiar, reminiscent of years long past, of thoughts that had lingered with him for ages. She allowed it for a moment, though he could sense her reticence, then he leaned back and rested his forehead against hers. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest. How long had he wanted to kiss her again? Had it been so many years? It was like a drink of water after a week in the desert, and if he needed any more evidence of how deeply he felt for her, here it was. It was an ugly truth, a hard one, filling him with both joy and deep shame in a conflicting tangle. He had indeed never stopped feeling how he felt towards her, not even in the long years of her absence when he was sure she was dead. It made him feel lesser towards himself.
"That's the first time I've kissed anyone in three fucking years," Rane muttered, drawing back and meeting his eyes. "And it wasn't what I was picturing, if we're being honest."
"What, I ain't good?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake. That's not what I meant. Sadie's gonna come back and see this and raise hell."
"Let her." John leaned towards her again, his eyes on her mouth, but Rane pressed him back gently, shaking her head.
"No, no, no, hang on," she said softly. "You gotta stop."
"I shoulda tried harder to win you over all them years back, Rane."
"John, you don't love me." Rane was shaking her head. "You never loved me. Shit, sometimes I don't even know if you liked me."
"That ain't true and you know it." John scoffed. "
Rane shook her head again, shifting away from him as he went for her hand. It was a subtle thing, but there were leagues of truth in it.
"You've got to put this away, John." She met his eyes. "I'm not gonna be around a whole lot longer, you need to focus on -"
"Wait, hang on, hang on." John gave her a surprised look. "What? The hell you talkin' about, you ain't around a lot longer?"
Sadie was emerging from the woods, buckling her belt. "You lot ready to push on?"
Rane and John looked at one another a long moment. After a second Rane grasped one of his hands in hers gently for a moment. Her palm was warm and dry.
"Let's keep going. It's getting towards noon and this snow is apt to get rough in a few hours."
John watched her lean form as she climbed onto Eli with practiced ease, her cloak sweeping about her as she did, noting the minuscule motions of her thighs and the trim curve of her waist as she did so with a lover's eyes, feeling a sinking in his stomach at the sight of it. After another second he climbed onto Rachel again, his brow knit, and snapped the reins, feeling wildly out of sorts, confused in a way he hadn't been in years.
"Yeah, let's go," he said, and spurred her on. "YA!"
