A/N: I'm back, sorry for the delay in uploading, I've been gone. I want to get these out sooner, because who likes being left in suspense, amiright? So anyhow, here's the next two chapters. ENJOY!
I open my eyes to a gray sky and raindrops falling on my face. Am I still in the alleyway?
I sit up stiffly and see a fire in front of me, a coffee pot trembling above the fire, a small clearing, and two hitched up horses. Where am I? I feel myself leaning against a saddle and I look down to see myself on top of a bedroll, bandages on my arm. I reach a sore bandaged hand up to my head and feel that it too is wrapped in white cloth. My mouth is dry and metallic tasting, and I am aching all over.
"Thought you'd decided to hibernate," a voice comments. I snap my head up and see a tall, thin, blue-eyed stranger walking into the clearing, stepping over a log and sitting down in front of the fire across from me.
"Prolly be better off if I did," I reply without thinking, only feeling pity for myself.
"I don't know 'bout that," the stranger says, grabbing a hot pad and removing the coffee pot from the fire. "Autumn is a beautiful time, especially out here. Be a shame to sleep on this."
"I reckon so," I rasp. The stranger grabs a couple metal cups out of his saddle bags on the ground, and shakes them out. He then looks at me for the first time.
"You want some coffee?" he asks, his voice low. He seemed to mush all his words together and speak without making too much eye contact. Strange fella.
"Yeah, thanks stranger," I say straightening myself out.
"No biggie," Stranger replies.
"I don't think I caught your name," I say as he hands me a cup of hot coffee. God, it smelled so good. Can't remember the last time I had fresh coffee.
"I don't make a habit of throwing it," he says curtly.
"Ah I can relate," I mutter, remembering all the times my name and reputation had gotten me into predicaments. I figured this fella might've had a past similar to mine. "So I suppose you're wanted?" I pry.
"More like unwanted. Seems a man can't make a living without everyone and his dog criticizing him for it," he explains, pouring himself a cup of joe.
"Oh yeah, what d'ya do?" I took a sip of the coffee and inhaled deeply. When coffee tastes as good as it smells, it's good coffee.
"Bounty hunter," he says flatly. Bounty hunter? Geeze, not exactly an admirable profession.
"Hm, well I can see why you'd be unwanted," I say with a smirk.
"It's a living," he sighs, "I'd probably make more money if I brought 'em in dead, save on food and supply costs anyhow."
Wait, why wouldn't he bring them in hanging over the saddle instead of sitting up in it? What sense did that make?
"Just what kinda bounty hunter are you? Who brings their man in alive?" I ask, completely bewildered. The stranger puts the coffee pot down and sits back.
"If the poster says wanted dead or alive, I'd rather bring 'em in alive." he takes a sip of his own coffee and scoffs, sticking his tongue out, like he thought the coffee was bitter. I shake my head.
"What, feed him and struggle with him just so he can swing? Your methods don't exactly sound all that logical," I point out.
He pauses, and pushes his hat back, scratching his ash blonde hair briefly.
"Might not seem like it," he starts, "but I have morals."
Hm. Morals. Not a word I'd heard in a very long time. I shake my head and sit back.
"I can remember saying that a time or two in my defense. Can't now. I don't know what I've become, or what I stand for. I'm just stayin' alive, drifting around without a purpose."
The stranger purses his lips and glances down, thinking about that statement, as if it applied to him. He yawns and then stretches, folding his arms behind his head and looking at the cloudy sky.
"Mhm. One of these days I'll settle down, but I've got gypsy blood so I can't really say what I'm going to do."
A traveling man, eh? I snorted in amusement, but then I noticed the gun belt slung over the log behind him. The ammo was massive as was the holster. A mare's leg? I'd seen them in books, and in gun shops, but didn't figure people actually carried them as an actual form of defense. Who do I know that carries a mare's leg? Then I realized:
"Wait a sec, you wouldn't happen to be Randall would you? Josh Randall?"
He gives me the side eye and then reaches into his shirt pocket for a quirley.
"I would."
"Heard the name, never seen the face. I've been told of a bounty hunter who takes his prisoners in alive. Mighty strange, figure there's only one of 'em."
Randall nods and finishes rolling his smoke.
"Yeah."
"Where do ya call home?" I questioned, getting real tired of his one word answers.
"A saloon with a tall drink waiting for me," he says dryly, striking a match on his boot heel.
"Doesn't sound like much of a home," I comment. This man was a puzzle, for sure.
"It works. You?" He looks at me again, before blowing smoke rings into the air.
I think about his question and what I called home. Did he even care? Doesn't matter I guess, but it'd probably feel good to get it off my chest.
"I don't have a home. Not anymore," I sigh.
"Tragic backstory huh?" Randall snorts.
"Yeah, one of the best," I admit.
"Mind relaying?"
Well, maybe he was interested. I rested my head back on the saddle and gazed at the fire.
"Yeah, I got kicked out of a stage stop ranch for killing my employer's thirteen year old brother."
Randall blinked slowly and looked to the sky, then glanced back down.
"Jesus. The law on your trail?"
"Surprisingly, no. I can't figure it."
"How'd it happen?"
A question, nobody had ever asked me, not since I left.
How did it happen?
Echoing in my mind, no one cared before, but I do. Because I replayed it in my mind, every night for the last year and a half. Detailing every scenario in chronological order, what was said, what was done. Somehow though, I was empty. After knowing for so long, how would I be able to verbally relay everything? I mean, saying it out loud? There was no way. Incriminate myself again? Relive it one more heartbreaking time, and have some stranger listen to me?
"It's okay," Randall assured me, figuring he should shut me down.
"No, I'll tell ya," I said, exhaling slowly.
It all comes flooding back and I'm suddenly transported to that cloudy day eighteen months ago, seemingly hundreds of years ago. I can see it all, the perfect scene for everything to go haywire.
We'd been on a relatively short cattle drive for our wealthy friend, Lee Erwin, herding his fifteen hundred head of cattle to another pickup point for a large outfit that was collecting beef for the buyers in Sedalia. The pickup point was up in Cheyenne, about fifty miles from Laramie, one of the shortest drives I'd ever been on. Slim had known Lee for more than five years, and considered him a partner. So naturally, any friend of Slim was a friend of mine and I was obligated to help. At first, I didn't want to participate in the drive, seeing how I had chores back at the ranch to attend to, but Jonesy had assured me that he and Andy would hold down the fort for me.
Well, we started in Laramie early on a Monday morning, and headed out, one thousand and five hundred beeves in tow. Slim rode point while Lee, I, and several others rode swing. The more surly of the bunch got to ride drag the whole duration of the trip.
Andy begged me not to go, claiming that Jonesy wasn't much fun and he even asked if he could go along. Slim put his foot down right away; he loved his brother too much to let him go.
"Please, please Slim! I know how to rope and ride just like you and Jess!" Andy pleaded, trailing behind Slim as he headed to Alamo, carrying his worn out saddle.
Slim sighed with a resigned grin. "Andy, I told you before: It's too dangerous."
"Aw come on, Sliiiim," Andy groaned. I smirked and shook my head, tightening the girth strap on my own saddle.
"Listen Andy," I started, "I know how much this would mean to ya if we let ya come, but Slim's got a point."
Andy huffed and crossed his arms. Slim exhaled and looked down at his little brother, putting his gloved hand on his shoulder.
"Maybe next time," he assured him.
Andy let his arms drop to his sides and he nodded, looking at the ground. I gave Jonesy the "take care of him" look and mounted Traveler.
We were about fifteen miles gone by the time we realized we had a stowaway. Slim threw him across the ground and quickly grabbed the lantern by the chuck wagon, shining the orange light on the offender. His eyes were visibly wide when he realized who it was.
"What in God's name are you doing here?" he demanded.
A very tired-looking and disheveled Andy got to his feet and brushed himself off.
"I wanted to go with you!" he defended.
Slim pursed his lips and tried not to roll his eyes. I walked over to Andy and snorted with amusement.
"Have a fun ride?" I asked, "I hope ya did, because you're going to be riding with us for the next thirty five miles."
Slim's head jerked up, his thoughts obviously interrupted by my suggestion.
"He is going back home first thing in the morning!" he shouted, pointing to the ground to emphasize his point. I tilted my head back, giving Slim an exasperated look.
"Slim, let's be realistic," I offered, "Who's going to ride fifteen miles back to the ranch with Andy, I mean anybody we can actually spare? We're undermanned and overworked, we don't have time for that."
Slim cringed and glanced back at Andy.
"Alright," he said firmly, "You can stay, but you're riding in the wagon, I don't need you underfoot. I'm severely disappointed in you, I gave you a direct order and you disobeyed me."
"Yeah, direct order," I echoed.
"When we get back to the ranch, you'll be taking on all of Jonesy's chores as punishment-"
"All of Jonesy's chores," I repeated.
"-and your allowance will be docked." he finished.
"Yeah, docked allowance," I continued.
Slim dropped his arms in anger and gave me a furious look.
"Do you mind?" he practically shouted.
"Not at all," I replied smugly.
"What, you think this is funny? Do you endorse the delinquency of minors?" he asked.
I shrugged, arms still crossed. "Nah," I said, "I just think you're overreacting and from where I'm standing you look like a broody mother hen."
Slim clenched his jaw and gave me the death glare.
"Oh ho, from where you're standing, huh?" he started, "Well, from where you're standing I'd bet if you pulled up your socks, you'd be blind."
That caught me off guard. He knew darn well how insecure I was about my height, he was hitting below the belt. My fists were now balled, the leather of my gloves squeaking as I did so. He was gunna get it.
"You better watch out Slim," I warned, "Or you're gunna catch."
"Catch what?" he scoffed.
"These hands!" I shouted, lunging at him. We collided with several grunts, and the fists flew.
Lee had just gotten back from making sure the drovers had bedded the herd down for the night, when he saw us engaged in hand-to-hand combat.
I was shoved against the side of the chuck wagon, and Slim aimed for my face. I ducked quickly and his hand smashed the wood and he shouted in anger. The next hand caught my jaw and I was sent to the dirt. He jumped for me, but Lee suddenly yanked him back.
"What in tarnation is going on here?" he demanded, spreading his arms between us to make sure we stayed apart.
"He started it!" Slim accused, pointing at me.
I still sat on the ground, rubbing my jaw.
"Well?" Lee said, looking at me expectantly.
I knew this was bad. I had absolutely no real excuse for throwing the first punch. My insecurities were now showing, and I think Lee knew it.
"Well, he…" I trailed off.
"What Jess?"
"He told me I was short," I replied curtly.
Lee lowered his eyelids, and shook his head, then looked at me again.
"Pardon?"
"He made fun of my height." I muttered, realizing how childishly stupid I sounded. Lee looked so incredibly stupefied, that he couldn't even speak. The actual lack of decent adult behavior on my part just drained him of a few brain cells, apparently.
"Jess," he said, "You know it's true."
I went slack-jawed; How was he taking Slim's side?
"What?" I screeched.
Lee threw his head back, laughing. "Hell, you're so short, you can't tell if you have a headache or a footache!"
I rolled onto my side and groaned. Now all the other drovers were surrounding us, laughing hysterically. I put my forehead into the dirt and started laughing as well. At this point, I was so tired it was either laugh or cry, and laughing seemed like a significantly better option.
Andy sat on the ground next to me and patted my back.
"It's okay," he comforted, "I'm only five-three."
I looked up at him, then sat up and rubbed my face, still laughing.
"It's not that," I said, involuntarily snickering, "It's just that, that-"
I fell back over, sides aching from cackling.
"It's true!" I yelled.
Andy stood up, giving us all disgusted looks, wondering why we were acting up the way we were.
"Well I don't see what's so funny," he said disapprovingly.
Slim was laughing too, leaning against the wagon, holding his stomach and almost crying.
"Eeh, you needed a ladder to reach manhood Jess," he added, falling forward and resting against me.
"Aw, now that's going too far!" I complained, tears of mirth in my eyes.
Slim punched my arm playfully and tried to pause between laughs.
"Wait, wait, wait," I said, "Slim, you tall thing you, must be terrible being over six feet, I mean, what with birds always trying to build nests in your hair like that….oh wait, that is your hair!"
Slim stopped laughing, but the drovers continued, beyond hysterical.
"Hey, that's, that's," he mumbled, "Not…nice."
I slapped his back and put my head on his arm, "I didn't know they stacked piles of shit that high!" I practically wheezed, too amused to even breathe properly.
Andy snorted, trying not to laugh, but he broke down and started cackling.
"Jess, that's mean!" He tried to reprimand me, but he was too far gone.
Lee was on his knees, wiping his face with his hat, his shoulders jerking up and down with hiccups.
"Ya'll are off your rudder," Andy finally said, no longer laughing.
Everyone slowly settled down, and Slim and I were still back to back on the ground, now exhausted. At least five minutes of silence ensued after we calmed down.
"What were you so worked up about, anyway?" I asked.
Those were some good times.