From Flame and Ash
— Chapter 4 —
As The Sun Fades
NATHAN RODE onto the oil site quietly. The sky overhead was starting to streak with a thousand variables of vibrant color, and the raised sound of men's voices calling to each other greeted him as he entered.
His eyes scanned the area, taking note of the wooden oil derrick, now repaired from the explosion and fire, the men digging, their backs straining; the tents set up along the outside of the clearing, the piles of supplies neatly categorized. Someone had been organizing since last he'd been inside this site.
His perusal found Lucas Bouchard quickly. Surprise lifted his brow as he took note of the chic figure that was beside the businessman, and the alert, if wry, attentiveness of the bearded man's expression as he watched the trimly dressed woman move efficiently from one end of the table before them to the other, sorting through piles of papers and breeze-proofing them with rocks placed firmly on top each pile when she'd finished.
Fiona Miller.
A San Francisco transplant who had arrived in town shortly before he had, and who had quickly impressed the townsfolk with her quick intelligence and drive, and her sprightly, tell-it-like-it-is manner that never compromised her feminine warmth.
He'd occasionally spotted them during the course of his daily rounds this last month or two, usually accompanied by Mike Hickam, and had heard rumbles around town that she was involved with the oil business. He'd observed them together with growing frequency of late, though, and today's sighting seemed to confirm the rumors of Fiona's involvement in the oil business.
"Nathan — hello!" Hickam's voice greeted him and he turned Newton toward the sound. He tipped his hat slightly as he greeted the affable, if somewhat bumbling, man. "Can we help you with something?"
"Listen, Hickam, have you seen any strangers around the site here? Anyone who you didn't recognize or who stood out to you?"
He had been headed for Lucas, but it never hurt to ask more than one person. There were strangers around. The Pinkertons were back. And a man named Wyman Walden was going around trying to buy up land and businesses in and around Hope Valley to house a potential influx of workers and bring in transport roads for a factory he wanted to build. So far the town had been resistant. No one had sold. But Nathan felt trouble coming in his bones. And his bones rarely lied to him.
The other man stepped out from the overhang of the tent and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "No . . . no, can't say as I have, Nathan. But I could keep an eye out and let you know."
Nathan nodded his thanks and turned Newton away, the horse's long legs making short work of the distance to the tent where Fiona and Lucas's dark heads were now bent over the table together. At the sound of hoofs on hard ground, they turned simultaneously. Fiona's eyes were bright, her mobile features animated. Lucas's tie was slack and slightly askew, collar loosened, as if he'd been tugging impatiently at it in the heat.
The men nodded at each other while Fiona reached out to pet Newton. Nathan noted the way the other man's eyes flicked, following the motion of her small hand stroking Newton's dark jaw.
"Bouchard." He did not tip his hat.
The other man spared him a bare glance. "Grant."
Newton shifted under him, powerful muscles rolling, and Nathan relaxed the reins, the leather supple in his hands. "Easy, boy." He gave the horse a brief pat on the shoulder and straightened, glancing around the oil site again, his eyes keen along the wooded perimeter.
"You notice any strangers around here?" He repeated the questions he'd asked Hickam a moment earlier. Fiona looked up at that, halting her petting. The face of the man next to her changed.
"Strangers?" The businessman shook his head, then glanced at Fiona, who mimicked his gesture, shaking her head decisively. "No, can't say that we have. Not out here."
"Alright." Nathan started to urge Newton on. "Let me know if that changes." He was trying to get an idea of the new people's movements around town.
Lucas's voice sounded from behind him. "Expecting trouble, Grant?"
He halted Newton, the horse tossing his head impatiently at the delay. It was near supper time, and he was eager for his oats and the comfort of his stall. Nathan gave him another pat, murmuring under his breath to him while he twisted slightly in the saddle to look back at the other man, who had followed after him several steps, expensive leather shoes planted firmly on the soil.
He debated how much to tell him.
"Just being careful," he finally settled on. "Let me know if you spot anything out of the ordinary." He glanced at Fiona, tipped his hat, then wheeled Newton slightly and cantered out of the oil site.
It had been a long day, the kind of day where not much of mention happened, but everything that had occurred seemed to take twice as long as it should have to set right. He glanced at the sun, beginning to lower noticeably in the colorful background panorama of the sky, and, on a powerful, if sudden, whim, asked Newton for one more favor that day. There was a spot he wanted to visit. Why he couldn't say.
He shouldn't want to visit it.
—ooO0Ooo—
The pastoral little spot along the trail seemed so idyllic and empty, bathed as it was in sunset peace and colors, that it was hard to imagine that just a few months prior, it had been witness to an intense scene between two people that had swung between tenderness and pain, storminess and truth — both spoken and silent. A meeting between two sparks.
There had been no coldness in her then. She had been all rushing words and huge, disquieted eyes that had tried so hard to be firm and stoic, but that only ended up reflecting the tempest of her own barely contained heart-emotion. A big blue gaze, near desperate with determination. Imploring, but would never admit to it.
He sat there, paused within his memories as his mind took him back to that moment, feeling again the frustration and pain that had washed over him as he'd watched her urge her horse into a gallop, fleeing from him. She'd not given him space to speak his piece with anything other than adamant earnestness, before galloping off as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough. Galloping away from him on Jack Thornton's horse. He shut his eyes for a moment, holding himself in.
Elizabeth.
He loved her then. He loved her now.
His breath shuddered within him as he let it out in a long, controlled exhale, and opened his eyes. The reins were digging into his hands. He forced his hands to unclench, absently rubbing at the white marks left on his skin.
"What am I doing here, boy?" He murmured as he alighted, tying Newton to a tree.
There was no answer from the faithful steed, although he eyed Nathan with fixed attention as the lawman sat on the log which lay stolidly under the gracefully drooping branches from the myriad of trees that surrounded the wooded path, dusting his hat off against the side of his leg before settling it on the log beside him. Behind him, a small pond lay, still and peaceful except for the occasional bird swooping low to capture a bug for dinner.
In the serene peace of the setting, his mind couldn't help but drift again. More memories rushed in.
Catching her arm with pleading, gentle urgency as she agitatedly tried to ready Sergeant in her haste to flee from him.
Her sleeve. The delicate feel of its lace and cotton under his fingers. His work-roughened hand catching on the fabric ever so slightly.
The cool softness of her rigid forearm under his palm.
The way the moment seemed to freeze in motion around them. The woods, the world, everything that wasn't them. All fell away in silence. All that remained, filling the space between them, were their heartbeats and breathing.
Two intense sets of blue eyes whose vision held nothing, nothing, except each other.
The charged air that seemed to pulse slowly around them, a slow echo to the rhythm of their hearts.
"Nathan!"
A familiar voice hailed him, jarring him from his reverie. He looked up to see Bill Avery, local sheriff and friend, riding towards him. Bill pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted with practiced ease to join Nathan at the log. He sat, twisting slightly as he did, and Nathan felt the weight of the quick scrutiny that fell upon his profile before the other man settled in.
The two men sat in silence, watching the forest across the path, the only sounds that of the occasional twig breaking somewhere on the forest floor as some wild creature came across it, and their horse's tacks jangling softly as they munched away on nearby grass.
Finally, Bill spoke. Just one word. "Elizabeth?"
Strange the reaction just hearing her name had on him. "Yes."
There was a slow nod of the grizzled, sandy head next to him as lips pursed thoughtfully. Bill stretched his legs out in front of him languidly, crossing them at the ankles.
"My ears are listening."
There was no pressure in his voice, no judgement, just a calm, unhurried waiting.
Nathan could feel the waning sun gently warming the back of his neck where his collar nearly met his hairline, could feel the bark of the fallen tree they sat on, bumpy even against his roughened fingers; the slide of sparse grass and packed dirt under the soles of his boots as he shifted. He twisted the cap off his canteen and offered his friend a swig. Bill gave him a quick head shake and Nathan brought the container to his own lips, feeling the cool liquid slide down, relieving the dryness of dusty roads. He balanced the canteen between them on the log.
His mind quieted. His words were soft. "I told Elizabeth, some months back, in this very spot, that I loved her. That I was in love with her."
"Was?"
Bill's face turned towards him and Nathan met his eyes quietly, knowing his answer was written plainly on his face. Bill nodded, the gesture saying more clearly than words, I thought as much. Then, "And how did she respond?"
When he didn't immediately answer, Bill went on, almost in the manner of one talking to himself. "Not well, I suppose, given that she's not with you and up till recently was seen to be enjoying the attentions of Bouchard."
A tightness began to swirl behind his eyes. So much wasted time.
Still without looking at him, his fellow lawman said slowly, "So if she's not with you, and reliable sources tell me that she's no longer with Bouchard, where does that leave things between you two?"
Undefined. Raw.
And, for him . . . waiting.
—ooO0Ooo—
It was late. The world lie slumbering under a blanket of moonlight.
But Bill's words were still rattling around his disquieted mind even as the clock steadily tick-tock-ed past midnight on the wall opposite his bed. His bare feet padded restlessly past Allie's room, carrying him down the stairs and out the front door on a nocturnal walk to settle his thoughts and hopefully relax his mind enough to sleep when he made it back to his bed.
As his feet carried him, the tail end of his conversation with Bill came again to the forefront . . .
Bill's head had swung towards him, holding his gaze with an empathy and understanding that didn't waver. "I can't tell you what to do, Nathan, and I know you've more than put it all out there for her, but what I will say is this — some things, some women, are worth fighting for. Worth waiting for."
Nathan had nodded, dropping his head with a weary sigh as he scrubbed a hand across his face. "Love is. Elizabeth is."
His friend had waited.
"But . . . I don't know what else there is to say, to do, at this point. Beg?" Bill's head was already shaking in a "no" and a corner of Nathan's lip turned down in mirthless agreement. "It's her decision — it's in her hands now, Bill."
Her hands.
Those hands of hers that were smaller, and more compact, than imagined. And unbelievably soft, despite her years on the rough frontier.
Those hands of hers which held so much sway over his future; and more power over his battered heart than she would ever know.
His bare toe stubbed against a rock, skinning it painfully, and he came to, shaking his head to clear it of memories perhaps best left behind. What was he even doing, taking a walk in unprotected feet in the dark?
He was in the middle of turning around when a glowing light in front of him, not thirty feet from where he stood, caught his attention. It made his hair stand on end. A wave of something that was almost eerie passed over him.
He was standing in the field opposite Elizabeth's house. And the glowing light was coming from the upstairs window where he knew Jack's nursery was.
What is this!? What am I doing here?
It seemed his feet had taken him where his conscious mind would not.
As he watched, a shadow began to change shape as it shifted across the window panes. Elizabeth came into view.
His heart clenched in his chest.
She was outlined in the exposed window, the flicker of muted lamplight dancing on the wall behind her as she soothed Jack, cradling the little boy in her arms. She was clad in a loose cotton wrapper, its voluminous folds draping gracefully around her long nightgown. Her hair was woven in a loose braid that fell over one shoulder, and as she pressed her cheek to the top of her son's small head, he could see her lips were moving in what looked to be a song.
The domestic scene was enchanting in its beckoning warmth. An ache started somewhere in the middle of his tight chest.
Time to go.
But then her head turned and looked straight out the window, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt her eyes fell on him. The moon was full and bright in the cloudless sky, shining down with silvery clarity and illuminating everything in its path that night. The field he stood in was lit with its brightness.
He could see the stunned frozeness of her figure, of her head.
He could have thought: What must she think? Does she think I came here deliberately to watch her house? And the Nathan of a few months ago might have thought that. But the Nathan of now thought no such thing.
For he wanted nothing more than to pull her trembling, shackled heart inside his and dismantle her chains one by one.
For he wanted nothing more than to push her cold, hard heart away.
He was at war with himself.
And, a man still battling himself, he turned and walked away, a figure tall and alone under the glow of the autumn moon.
—ooO0Ooo—
What Nathan Didn't See
Nathan did not see her come flying down her front stairs, feet alight with tremulous agitation, hardly aware of what — or why — she was doing.
Nathan couldn't know that his lone figure in the moon-bathed field had seemed to call her with a force as mysterious as it had been strong.
Nathan did not see her front door open but a crack, or her wide blue eyes peer out from behind it near despairingly.
Nathan did not see the way she threw the door open, nor did he see how she looked around almost desperately yet fearfully, as if wanting, but so afraid of what she might find still there.
Did not see her slowly collapse back against the door frame as she realized he was gone and she was alone, as her numb hands pulled her wrapper tightly around her shivering frame.
Did not see the solitary, cold tear escape her eye or how it did not seem to dry, but rather freeze, on its trek down her face.
Did not hear the single word that managed to part her lips, in two broken syllables.
Na-than . . .
For how could he? Nathan Grant was no longer in front of Elizabeth Thornton's home.
—ooO0Ooo—
Author's Note: Well, there we go; another installment in the angsty and intense AU story of Nathan Grant & Elizabeth Thornton post S8. I hope you all liked it! When I mention that Nathan's I love you was a "few months" prior, I'm thinking maybe two months. Just to give you an idea of timeline. For those who might be thinking Lucas is different here; yes, he is. I couldn't stand the boring, one-dimensional, whitewashed paragon of near-"perfection" (ugh!) they turned him into. So my version of Lucas is going to more closely resemble the one when he first came to Hope Valley. At least he was interesting then. And no, he and Nathan are not friends. Not necessarily enemies either, but not buds. Opens up room for more nuance and interest this way, I think. ;) And I didn't mention Bill was a Judge because I can't decide yet if I'm keeping him as a Judge in my story, LOL!
I can never close without sending my massive thanks to ALL my readers and reviewers — you guys are appreciated more than you know, believe me! A big, warm WELCOME to all my new readers/reviewers!
All my anonymous "Guest" reviewers, please know I treasure all your comments and read each one!
elizabethB88: Your words mean the world to me, my friend. They almost made me cry and feel a little weepy, I was so touched. Big hug. I'm ever so glad and grateful you are liking where I'm taking this story. I was definitely determined to fix the mess they made with RM's actions — or rather, her lack thereof!
SaSeLi777: Hey there! :) It tickled me pink to hear that you could visualize the Grey in that last chapter. I'm so glad the use of "Grey" worked. RM & Elizabeth still have a lot of work to do, but my version of RM is not letting her off the hook!
Missela: I agree; I hated how neutral RM was in her best friend's heart "dilemma". It was such a strange directing choice and, like so much else in S8, made no sense. RM is a busybody, par excellence, for crying out loud! I can help fulfill your wishes to "see" Lucas & Fiona in a relationship, at least on "paper" . . . ;)
onuartist06: Thank you so much, and Nathan has definitely not given up on Elizabeth, but they're in a strange place at the moment. Stay tuned! More to come!
BeccaKay64: Gosh, thank you, thank you! I'm touched! I'm eager to see your thoughts on this latest chapter. Hopefully, it met your expectations! The "debacle of S8 and its travesty of a finale" is exactly right. You're speaking my language, girl!
Elle018: I laughed out loud when you wrote that Elizabeth was a fool and it sounded just like her to say that she would remain alone for the rest of her days and devote herself to LJ. haha! You're not wrong. Well, if you were intrigued by her observations of Lucas, Fiona, and Hickam, there's some more of them in this chapter (although not from her POV).
Jacki Foster: You and I are of one mind — Elizabeth does need to go grovelling before Nathan. Yes, ma'am! I want to knock some sense into Elizabeth, too.
angiegirl7x7: Thank you for understanding about my old N&E story. I'm super happy you're enjoying their new one! S8 was like a nightmare, you're so right. And that finale . . . well, words fail.
Pharmama: Thank you so much. I strive really hard to get the emotional angle of the characters across (especially Elizabeth's, as she is the most difficult and problematic character, quite frankly), so you don't know how much it means to hear that it's working. And you're right: she is feeling so much she can't even process or recognize what it is right now.
heather4cu: Welcome! And thank you — I agree with what you said about RM, and felt the need to rectify certain things in her relationship with Elizabeth in this story. As her best friend, it should have been apparent long ago that E was not handling things well and needed mature guidance.
belindaross.7: Oh, many thanks, that means the world to me as an author. I hope chap. 4 was pleasing to you!
Eilie Hunter: I'd like to stand up and give your comment 6K standing ovations! YESSS! Honestly, your comment almost left me teary-eyed. Beautifully worded and you're spot on re: Nathan and Elizabeth! And thank you — I'm so glad holding Nathan back from active pursuit is resonating with you! Thank you for telling me that in my descriptions you can see and hear him, even his silences. Means a lot. Thank you so much for your review.
Mamabethany: Now, it's me who needs a moment to try to compose a response. I'm truly, truly, honored by your words and the time and care you took to put them together. I will continue working hard to maintain you as a pleased/satisfied reader, which is something I value a great deal, friend. As a writer, your thoughts meant the world to me. Hugs.