Chapter 41 is up! My apologies to everyone who have been waiting for this story to be updated. I hope you enjoy this one :) Thank you for all the lovely reviews! I read them all, and they inspire me to keep writing.

Chapter 41:

The dry wind of the prairie played with Rachel's faded hair like parts of her youth tried to escape on the cold current. Her face had been etched on by the elements and the burden she carried inside her belly. It had been a difficult pregnancy from the begin with. It had been a bad idea to leave for the west five months ago. She had already been unwell back at home. The doctor had advised against their leaving. But her new husband persisted. And so she obeyed.

Her former husband wouldn't have gone through with a journey such as this if she had been indisposed in any way. He would have been a more sensible man. A steady man. Slightly older than herself too. And she didn't think he would have been the kind of man that would have taken a vague offer of land on the other side of the country. He would have needed proof. And some more details of what they were getting themselves into along the way of getting there. He never did anything spontaneous, or out of the ordinary. He had been as predictable as the bells in a church tower.

But Jeremiah was young, bold as brass, and at times it seemed he didn't fear the Devil himself. Atleast, he had been like that back at home. It was what attracted her to him in the first place. His courage and his lust for life.

So the fresh widow married this young farmer, this bold bucking stallion from the country side. With his sparkling eyes, his smooth tongue and his wild stories about places he wanted to see. She took her children and placed them under his care. And when he came home from his job at the sawmill, holding a pamphlet about farming land in the Oregon territories, it was time to tell him what the doctor had told her a couple of days before.

She was with child. But there were complications. And they were expected to get worse.

But life was going to be better over there. The climate was better. The air was cleaner. The people kinder. The land cheaper. The sun warmer. The grass greener. The fish fatter. The game more plenty. The horses more tame. The sky more blue than ever. There was no changing his mind. The child would be born into a thriving family, for they would reach Oregon long before she was even close to bringing it to life.

Nothing happened the way it should have. And she sighed softly, gazing at the girl wrapped in conversation with the man who claimed to be an army surgeon. That girl did not belong in a gang of outlaws. Like she herself did not belong in a broken covered wagon halfway across the western territories.

Jaques Barret wasn't a man to embrace, or to be embraced. And so, to watch the army surgeon being pulled into the slim arms of the young woman that had been his travel companion for the past weeks, and offer little to no protest other than a stunned and vacant expression, was quite the curious thing to the gang leader, who had been watching the interaction between his gang member and the girl from afar.

Butch tilted his head in dog like curiosity. Eleanor seemed beyond ecstatic, as if the army surgeon had proposed to her right there and then. But the leader hadn't seen the man get down on one knee, he had only seen him talk to her with a solemn expression on his gaunt face. A face that, despite the grime and sunburn still revealed traces of the noble line he originated from. Barret didn't belong in the open desert, riding with a pack of dogs. He belonged in a mansion down south, ordering around slaves while sipping his lemonade. The exact reason for this change in career had never been shared with Butch, and the latter had never found himself caring enough to inquire about it either. There had been a fight between father and son, and it had resulted in the son packing his belongings and joining a war that wasn't his. Only to end up not going home.

The gang seemed about ready to go, and Butch averted his eyes from the two. There were more important things to attend to. Everything they could take from the frightened settlers, had pretty much been looted and stuffed in various saddle bags, and frankly the frantic crying of the children was getting on his delicate nerves. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck and let out a low growl to give sound to his bitter mood. Ray and Jesus were still playing with the heroic father, and pushed him around while he struggled to keep his bearings. Frank and Kyle had done most of the work, and seemed not into it. They moved around their horses, turning up pebbles while shooting unsure glances toward the cowering family a few feet away from them. What a mess, the gangleader thought, and huffed. They had no business out here in the plains, robbing dirt poor settlers on their way to an even harder life than what they had left behind.

The woman carrying the child that had already caused so much ruckus among his gang members was still sitting quietly on her crate next to her wagon. She didn't look worried, or scared, just tired. His eyes fell upon her slender form, and she must have felt his glare, cause she slowly turned her head to look at him. Again, all fear seemed lost to her. Even now she was looking at the man who had ordered her family's ruin. He narrowed his eyes, to ensure her of his harshness should she ever dare doubt it. She gave no reaction, and blinked calmly. He didn't know how long it took before she finally gave in, and dropped her eyes gently to her lap, but it had taken long enough for him to feel his impatience burning inside his gut.

"Enough" he suddenly barked to no one in particular. "That's enough. Let's go, boys!" All retrospection forgotten, he mounted his horse, waiting for the others to do the same. With one last shove, the unfortunate father was released from the clutches of Ray and Jesus, who knew better than to let their leader wait on them, and was soon joined by his son, who had been waiting for a moment he felt brave enough to come to his father's aid. While Frank and Kyle got ready, Butch turned to where Eleanor and the doctor had been holding their conversation, but they were gone. He looked around, now slightly panicking at the idea of Barret taking off with the young woman into the sunset.

Barret and Eleanor had heard Butch's command to mount up, and they realized this was the moment they had to tell him about their decision. It was Eleanor who first stepped up to the side of the leader's horse, allowing his eyes to fell upon her frame before speaking. She cleared her throat, and shot back a glance at the doctor standing a few feet behind her. The leader narrowed his piercing blue eyes at her, and she felt herself shrink under his stare.

"Jack is staying too."

There, she had said it. There was no going back now. A silence followed. And she knew he wasn't looking at her anymore, but had his eyes on the army surgeon. She wondered about Barret's expression right now. Was he staring back defiantly? Or did he regret his decision already?

"Is he now?"

She closed her eyes at Butch's calculating tone, often used to give a voice to the silence before the storm. "Yes" she continued. "We need to help this woman. There is no other way." No words followed, and she looked up when Butch dismounted and planted his snake leather boots into the dust beside her. Standing almost chest to chest with the young woman. "Like there was no other way when you entered my mother's house but to care for you." She continued stiffly.

"Ye know." He started softly. "You cannot keep holdin' that against me forever. It'll wear out. Now if I'd ever grow tired of hearin' about it.."

"it'll still be true." She interrupted, not looking up to meet his gaze. Instead, she took to staring at the faded buttons on his waistcoat. "I could have let you die. When the others left, they gave up on you. No matter how much power you think you hold over them." She felt him bring his head down, and his breathe made her hair dance, and the skin in her neck stood up at the sensation as he brought his lips close to her ear.

"If ah ever owed you, Sharky." He whispered as she closed her eyes. "Ah returned te favour more than once ahlready. Mah debt has been paid. And everythin' ah've been indulgin' since is charity."

"I know." She pushed herself to answer. "And I've been using it ever since. Quite shamelessly so. To help myself and others. And I will continue to do so. Until you decide to kill me." This time she looked up at him. "But Jack and I are going to help this woman. No matter what. Come what may. If she dies in our hands, we tried. And after we did all we could, he will go with you again, like he has been doing for years."

Butch said nothing, and his expression was hard to read while he stared down upon the young woman amidst her tearful monologue. "He's worried about you. He told me you're not feeling well again, and that it would be better for you not to travel for a while." He narrowed his eyes at her words, but she continued. "Besides." She hesitated for a moment. "You could help us help her. No one can wield a knife better than you and.. your knowledge of the human body.. Butch, you can do things nobody else can." He tilted his head, raising his eyebrows at her request, and started to chuckle.

"Somethin' tells me this is your idea and not his." he said. "Ahm not exactly the guy ye want around durin' surgery."

"I do want you around." She stood her ground, swallowing harshly against her fear. "You give me courage. If you were to leave, I'd be at half my capacity." He was quiet. "I know how much you hate it when I treat you like some sort of spirit with forces and energies only a few seem to understand. But I cannot help feeling that way about you. There is something about you. And no matter how many times you use it to do bad, if you were to start using it for the good, we have a chance to save this woman and her child."

"And ah suppose that would save mah soul and grand me ah place in Heaven, eh?" he sneered.

"I doubt it" she answered dryly. "But my mother taught me not to ponder Heaven too much while there's still life to live. And I rather take to that idea." she looked up at him pleadingly, searching for his eyes that he refused to let her look into. "Please. Help us."

He let out a bored sigh and rubbed the bridge of his crooked nose. "Sharky, ah swear te God.."

"I wouldn't if I were you." Her warning tone surprised him a little, but he didn't let it show too much. "I don't think he's listening." She looked around. The settlers had started to wonder what their conversation was all about. And the members of the gang had all mounted their horses, and were waiting for their leader. "I think it's up to us." It was the last thing she said to him before turning to Barret, still standing behind her, now with a vague look of modest admiration for the young woman defying the man he had followed around the west for so many years. "Are we staying?" she looked back at Butch pleadingly.

The two men crossed eyes with impassive expressions, and it was Butch who averted his gaze first, back to the girl, and then to the company of wagons surrounding them. "Ye sure yer up te this, Jack?" he asked gruffly.

Barret followed his gaze and let out a long, deep sigh. "I think.." he started carefully, his eyes falling upon the pregnant woman still sitting on her crate. Her husband had joined her, and her thrown a heavy blanket around her slender shoulders. "I might be able to save one of them." Butch nodded in agreement.

"who ye gonna pick when you have to make the choice, hm?" Butch sneered almost gently. Barret said nothing, and slowly forced his eyes away from the woman, to the man he called his leader, who stared back defiantly. "Ah never heard of no slaveowner's son running away from his responsibilities just to pick them back up again halfway across the country. You don't like making decisions, Jack. That's why I make em. That's wh-"

"I'll save her." Barret interrupted him rudely. "I'll save the mother."

"ye don't even know her." Butch shot back. "And yer willin' to condemn her child."

"I've never seen you perform an introduction either before killing someone." Barret shot back. "it makes no difference. I don't have to know her. I don't want to know her. All I know is that, if I can help it, she'll be able to have more children when there's a better time to do so."

"Startin' to sound like a real doctor, Jack." Butch rolled his shoulders in agitation. This cold was getting to his bones, making them sore. "Ahlright. You two go ahead and make fools outta yourselves. Go spill some blood." He looked at Eleanor. "Both of you." He turned to the other members of his gang. "We're stayin' put fer a while, boys. Aint no use goin' back now, risk getting' stuck in a snow storm er sumthin'" he didn't sound convinced of himself, and the two most ruthless members of his gang picked up on his hesitation. Ray huffed, and spat in the ground menacingly while dismounting his old mare. He trudged up to his leader, looking much like he was about to strike him, when he halted in front of a slightly surprised looking Butch.

"Ah say we move on! We got our loot. What use has it to stick around with these morons?! Ah don't want te stay!" Ray exclaimed violently. When Butch said nothing in return, and simply stared the older man down like he was daring him to raise his voice again, Ray shrunk a little. "Yer not making sense, Butch." The man continued a little calmer. "Ah mean.. everytahm that gurl wants sumthin.. ye give in like an old maid! We're all gettin' tired of watching ye gettin' henpicked by this prairie dove an-"

Butch grabbed him by the front of his collar, and snarled like an old wolf pushed beyond the boundaries of his patience.

"Shut up!" he growled. "Ye don't want te stay here, go!" he pushed the man away from him with a hard shove, and the latter struggled not to lose his footing. "GO!" Butch roared furiously. "Ye aint tight te mah belt like a dog, Ray! Do us all a grand ol' favour and take yerself and yer whinin' somewhere else!"

"Ah might just end up doin' that!" Ray yelled back, humiliated at the treatment he just received. "Ah aint out here to play midwife! Mah face decorates every sheriff's office from here to Kansas!" When Butch pulled out his gun, the older man went silent. "Ah can't afford people getting a too close of a look at me, Cavendish. Ah don't feel much for any of them remembering me vibrantly enough to rat out mah whereabouts." Ray continued more calm. "And neither can you."

"Ah think they'll all be eager enough to forget your ugly mug as soon as they can." Butch cocked his gun with a warning gesture. "Especially not after I put a hole between yer eyes. Get off mah back, Ray. Ah can't have ye hassling me all the damn tahm." With that, the conversation was over, and Butch turned away from his loyal follower to find solitude in the vast openness of the prairie surrounding them.

Eleanor had decided not to pursue Butch as he trudged off to gather his thoughts. She watched him go after his interaction with Ray, and wished with all her might she could have convinced him this was the right thing to do for all of them. She didn't know if any of them were able to redeem themselves, nor was she sure if she still believed in such an abstract concept. But now that they were staying, and she had Barret's word to help her save the woman still sitting on her crate overlooking the destroyed camp, and she watched how he slowly made his way over to her, and gently sat himself down beside her, taking off his faded Stetson in an almost grotesque attempt at decorum.

"Are you the doctor?" Rachel asked him after a few moments of silence.

He looked up at her with a near apologetic gaze, and shook his head slowly. "No." He said. "I'm an.." He stopped, finding the words swelling up in the back of his throat. "I was never a real.." He looked at her pleadingly, but her gentle gaze didn't change, she just waited for him to finish his sentence. "I'm not a.." He stopped, giving up, and dropped his gaze. She reached over with a worn, thin hand, rough from the elements and near skin from the lack of food, taking his own with a gentle squeeze. Minutes passed like that, with Eleanor as their silent witness from afar. "Yes.." the army surgeon mumbled to the sand surrounding his leather boots. He looked up at her, his gaze more steadfast than ever. "I'm the doctor."

The woman smiled warmly at him, and it almost warmed up the frozen prairie around them. She squeezed his hand again, excitingly.

"Good." she said. "All shall we well then."

TBC soon...