chapter 5 is up. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews :)

Frank talked to horses. And he did so very frequently and without shame. Later that afternoon, when Eleanor entered the stables to feed the goats, she saw Frank brushing the dark bay mare that belonged to Butch. "There's a good girl, Anabell. Yer so pretty" after recovering from her first amazement, she cleared her throat to announce her presence. Both horse and boy looked up. "He called her Anabell?" she asked. He shook his head. "naw, I did. He don't name no horses, so I do it for him. This is Anabell and that piece of work over there is mah stallion Bobby" he explained, pointing in the direction of the chestnut horse. "I presume they weren't come by the honest way" Eleanor said, chuckling softly.

"Bobby didn't like his other master, miss. He hit him. And Anabell looks after Butch real good, so she must like him" Frank spoke in his own defence. Still chuckling, Eleanor reached out for a strand of hair from Anabell's manes and started braiding it. "hand me that piece of blue ribbon, will you?" she told Frank, who stared at her actions curiously. "what ye doin' to her?" he asked, handing her the ribbon from a little box next to the brushes. "Mr. Cavendish is going to have the prettiest horse around these parts when he's ready to leave" she stated simply, braiding another strand. After a few moments of silence, Frank broke out in excited giggling. "he sure aint gonna like none of this, miss. We'll be in so much trouble" he laughed, starting on Anabell's dark colored tail. Eleanor simply smiled to herself and shrugged. "we can always braid his hair too to match her own"

An hour later, Anabel looked perfectly ridiculous with her manes and tail in blue ribbon tied braids, but she herself didn't care and she was happy to be lead out to the corral to stretch her legs. Admiring their pointless work, Eleanor and Frank gazed at the frolicking horse. "can ye keep a secret real well?" Frank asked her. Eleanor looked up at him, raising her eyebrows in question. "why that depends on the secret" she said. He nodded in agreement, fair enough. "Don't tell Butch but.. ah don't really want them all te come back and git us. Ah like it here. Reminds me of home" the young man spoke. She smiled and nudged his shoulder with her own. "I knew you'd enjoy scrubbing hogs and cleaning out stables. My mother knows a rancher's son when she sees one" she laughed.

Frank blushed and rubbed the back of his head. "mah pa had them pigs, but he aint never scrubbed them clean. They smelled like regular pigs. Yer pigs are ladies pigs" he said, making her laugh. She agreed he had a point. The farm was run by women, and so it had a feminine touch to it. Despite her present situation, she found herself to be more relaxed than she had been in months. She wasn't sure it was because of the presence of an extra pair of hands on the ranch, or the fact that Butch had shown atleast some form of cooperation this morning. It could very well mean she and her family might just survive this yet.

Inside the house, mother had decided to defend the few fine things she owned, her French linen sheets. "I'm not going anywhere until you rollover and let me get them sheets, Mr. Cavendish. I don't care if you point a gun at me or not. They were a wedding present from my good father in law and I won't see them get spoiled any longer!" despite talking into the barrel of Butch' revolver, the older lady stood her ground, holding on to one corner of the sheet he was laying on. "ye git out" the outlaw grumbled, still not favouring any movement. "you get yourself a proper bath first and put a fresh shirt on and then I'll decide whether you can use my sheets or not" the woman spat back and tugged hard on the sheet. He didn't weigh much, she could pull him off the bed if she tried. He cocked his gun in warning, but he wasn't sure if he'd hit her even when she was standing so close to him. his vision was blurry and the pounding in his head got worse by the minute.

The gunshot could be heard inside the stables, startling the horses. It took Frank and Eleanor a few seconds to process what they had just heard before they both started running back to the house. Perhaps grandpa had finally decided to blow Butch to pieces with his shot gun. But all they found when they arrived at the scene, was mother holding her soiled sheet and Butch laying on the floor holding his gun. Frank looked at the smouldering fresh hole in the wooden door and blinked. "ye killed the door, Butch" he said. "he tried to shoot me when I took the sheet. But he can't even aim right! And you're telling me they're willing to pay me 3000 dollars for his hide?" Mother huffed and marched out of the room, holding her price tightly to her chest.

Very gingerly, Butch pulled himself up from the floor, ignoring Eleanor's extended hand and sat down on the side of the bed. He held his head and groaned, trying to steady himself and get rid of the dizziness and building nausea. "fresh sheets would probably be best anyway" Eleanor said, trying to lift the mood a little. "and perhaps you should consider changing into something more comfortable for sleeping. I could give you one of my father's shirts or nightclothes. They fit Frank, they probably fit you too" she went on, but he didn't reply. He simply couldn't speak while concentrating on keeping down his breakfast. That and he had nothing to say to this milk and honey prairie sweetheart that was getting on his nerves more and more. Frank sat down on the bed next to his leader and looked at him worryingly. "how ya feelin' Butch? Any better?" he asked, but Butch shook his head and pulled himself up from the bed, holding on to the wall while slowly walking out of the room. "ah need some air" he groaned.

Outside on the porch, grandpa was still standing watch, holding his shotgun and chewing his tobacco while sitting in his creaking rocking chair. He looked up when the front door opened and Butch stepped outside, taking a deep breath. Again the old man made the statement of spitting out his tobacco in front of Butch' feet, and again Butch knew that if he had felt any better he would have rammed that rocking chair right into that old bastard's face. "nice te see ye again too, oldtimer" he simply said and leaned on the porch' wooden railing, glad to be outside for a spell. "ah don't like it anymore than you do, ah can tell ye that" Butch went on. Inhaling some fresh air and have the cool autumn wind in his face made him feel a little better, a little more in the world of the living. Deep down inside he knew he was very sick, but no one else needed to know that. If Ray dared to show his face here after a week, he'd let him know just how stupid his idea had been, aching belly or not.

While letting out an unattractive belch because his stomach was starting to protest standing up, he caught sight of his horse in the corral. Her manes and tail in braids with light colored ribbon. He narrowed his eyes, was that his horse? "whut te hell?" he mumbled. Behind him, the door opened and closed and Eleanor came up beside him, her arms crossed over her chest. She followed his gaze and couldn't help but chuckle. "sometimes a lady likes to dress up, you know" she said. He looked at her, unamused. "did ye do that to mah horse?" she shrugged, still smiling. "me and your friend. We figured we could give you matching braids too" she answered. He huffed. "not if ye favour yer hands" he mumbled. "so how are you feeling? Or are we still in a state of ignoring eachother's existence?" she went on and asked, leaning her back against the railing so she could study his face. His eyes scanned the prairie horizon, avoiding her gaze. "I mean, you're on your feet. That's a good sign" she continued and sighed when there was still no reply from him. "who are they?" he asked. Confused, she followed his gaze toward the horizon.

Four men on horseback approached the ranch in a slow trot. "Oh for the love of.. " she said. Grandpa cocked his shotgun in silence. "You need to get back inside, they can't see you" she told Butch. He didn't move and finally made eye contact with her, giving her a sly smile. "ah yea? And why is that?" he asked. "they're with the railroad. They've been pestering us since last winter. They want our land and we've been refusing it ever since. Now please get back inside!" she begged him. Tauntingly slowly, he raised himself up to his full height and moved passed her back into the house, chuckling when he bumped her shoulder in the process.

The four men halted in front of her porch. The youngest, a fine suited man with a light moustache, took off his expensive hat in greeting. "Goodday, miss Hartley, aint it lovely weather to be ignoring your ranch and standing on your front porch wishing for a husband?" he sneered. "what do you want, Elton?" she spat back. The young man smiled and looked at his fellow agents. "well I think that's mighty clear, Eleanor dear. Now where's your lovely mother? We was wondering if she has reconsidered our offer yet?" he said. At that moment, mother Hartley came through the frontdoor holding a rifle and aimed it at the four men. "Git off my land!" she yelled. Three of them reached to pull out their guns, but Elton raised his hands. "now hold on gentlemen, I know Mrs. Hartley over here don't mean nothing by it. Come now, ma'm, better save those bullets for the coyotes coming after your chickens, don't you think? Let's try to talk this through in a more..civilized manner" he said.

"you turn your horses around and tell your master I aint selling one piece of this land for his trains! Never!" Mother said, not lowering her rifle. The young man sighed and adjusted himself in his saddle, getting frustrated. "Now listen here, Mrs. Hartley. You can't win this. And I've been very kind to you the past few months but you can't keep this up. We'll get this land the decent way or we'll have to go by.. more drastic.. methods" he slowly ended his sentence. "meaning?" Eleanor asked, but the young man just smiled at her kindly. "why let's not go into details while there's still time to simply sell us the land and walk away unscathed with a good sum of money and all be on your way. Move to the city, buy some new dresses" he said. "you'll be the one needing dresses once I blow off your manhood right through your horse's head" Mother said, cocking her rifle. Elton curled his moustache in anger and placed his hat back on. "this was your last warning, Mrs. Hartley. I'm very sorry to conclude there's no talking to you about this matter. We wanted to do this peacefully and in a decent, civilized manner. But I suppose you country folk understand only one language. You'll hear from me again, soon" he said, turning his horse. The four men rode off and mother finally lowed her rifle, tears welling up in her eyes.

Eleanor reached out to her but she shrug off her daughter and went back into the house. Grandpa shakenly got up from his chair and spat over the railing, as if the four men were still right in front of him. He yelled some incoherent words, but Eleanor knew they weren't anything a good Christian was supposed to hear anyway. Perhaps God himself gave the old man a stroke to stop his endless cussing. Somehow she knew this was a hopeless case. Elton was right about something, you can't win from the railroad. They owned almost everything and what didn't come to them easily, they took with force. Their ranch would be no different.