Chapter 8 is ready! Thanks to all the wonderful reviews, follows and favs! They inspire me to keep writing. Little bit of action is coming your way. I finally decided where I want this story to go. Hope you enjoy!

When Eleanor woke up, her head was resting on the soft winter furs and the bed was empty. Butch was nowhere to be seen. His clothes and boots were gone too, and the only thing that betrayed his previous stay in her bedroom was his gun on the nightstand. So he hadn't left. He wouldn't leave without his revolver, she thought. Something heavy and warm that was placed around her shoulders, slid to the floor when she sat up. One of the furs had been wrapped around her.

Smoothing the hair from her face and rubbing the sleep from her eyes she stretched. Her back aching softly from her uncomfortable sleeping position. Warm rays of a newborn autumn sun fell through the window panels, making dust particles dance around the small room. It was still early. She doubted if mother was even up yet. The house didn't smell like freshly prepared breakfast, so the older woman was probably still sleeping.

She wrapped the fur around her shoulders and decided to go look for the previous occupant of the bed. When she entered the living room she was greeted by a sleepy dog, unsteady on its old legs from just getting up. Frank lay sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly. One of the cats had rolled up on his stomach and looked quite content with her new sleeping spot.

The house was remarkably quiet. The seemingly never ending prairie surrounding their lands was as silent as a graveyard in the early hours of the morning. As if the sun had to warm up the frozen lands and bring everything back to life again with its glow.

The only sound that reached her ears were the birds announcing the first light had been seen and the familiar creaking of grandfather's chair. She was pretty sure grandpa was still sleeping in his own bedroom in the shack next to the stables. He wanted to be close to the animals during the night. To prevent thieves from taking off with their precious livestock, and to keep the coyotes away from the chickens and piglets.

She opened the front door silently to not wake anyone and stepped onto the porch. She found Butch in the rocking chair, staring at the sunrise with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and a blanket wrapped around himself. He looked up at her with one eye closed against the blinding sunlight and gave her a crooked and tired smile.

"Morning'" he said. "Have a seat. Best show is in town. All free o' charge"

She followed his gaze to the horizon for a moment, blinking against the light "you gave me a scare. I thought you.." she started.

"Ye thought what?" he interrupted her and looked at her sharply. "That I'd be dead by mornin'?" he chuckled and shook his head. "Nah.. no such luck, little miss shark. Not today" she sat down in the chair next to his and studied his tired weathered face for a moment. Almost expecting him to breathe his last breath right there in the rocking chair. It had only been last night he announced he was feeling death creeping inside his body. He knew she was looking at him cause he held out his coffee for her without making eye contact.

"It's pretty strong" he warned when she took the mug from him. she took a small sip and started coughing. It was probably the strongest coffee she had ever tasted and it felt like her lungs expanded when she swallowed the hot beverage. He chuckled and fished the cup from her hands before she could spill it in her struggle to breathe.

She regained her composure and shook her head, still panting lightly. "That.. must do a number on your fragile stomach, mister Cavendish. You shouldn't drink that" she said. Her shrugged and downed the mug in one final swig. drops of coffee trickled down his chin and he wiped them away with his sleeve, tossing the empty cup up and down in his hand.

"Ah probably shouldn't do a lot of things. But sometimes a man doesn't have much of a choice" he said and placed the cup on the wooden floor beside his chair.

"I take it you're feeling better than" she said. He didn't answer and gazed at the horizon once more. the sun almost completely visible now. Soon the house would awaken and the day would start.

"Mister Cavendish.." she urged him softly, needing confirmation that he was indeed improving. They had come to agree upon some sort of truce, even though it had been a silent agreement, but she still didn't want him to linger around the ranch longer than necessary.

"yea.." he finally said, not taking his eyes off the rising sun. "just played out.."

"And your stomach?"

"Well, ah might just retch up all o' that coffee all over yer shoes but.. " he looked at her shocked expression and chuckled. "Got ya there.. mah gut is fine. Little tender, maybe. Yer mother's method worked, ah suppose"

She couldn't help but smile and feel a strange sort of pride at that statement. Her mother, a simple rancher's wife, saving the big bad Butch Cavendish from the brink of death. The poor woman didn't deserve to have to waste her healing talents on wanted criminals, but the mere fact she could do it made her a heroin in her daughter's eyes.

"did you mean what you said last night? About.. leaving us and the ranch untouched" she asked. He didn't answer right away because a group of white tailed deer had decided to pass through their lands. Between the house and the stable, the brown colored animals stood off against the pale yellow dust. One of the doe's had a fawn that couldn't be older than two days. It had barely learned how to walk and followed its mother clumsily. The group stopped in front of the house, sniffing the air cautiously.

Right at that moment the front door slammed open and Frank tripped over a bucket while running onto the porch. "Miss Eleanor! Butch's bed is empty and ah can't finds him!" the deer scattered away on breakneck speed, their white tails up in alarm and Butch slammed his hand down on the elbow rest of his chair.

"FRANK! Godammit!" he hollered and Frank didn't know how fast he had to get back inside, tripping over the same bucket in the process. A cheerful "ah founds him!" could be heard and Butch rolled his eyes. Eleanor couldn't help but burst out laughing at the whole situation and covered her mouth to hide her chuckling. The criminal gave her a slightly amused look.

The front door opened again and this time mother peered around the doorway. "what are you two doing out here in the cold morning air? Fetching ourselves a lung infection, are we? If you think I'm in the mood for two patients at the same time you got another thing coming. Elly! Them cows need milking and they aint gonna do it themselves, mind you!" she said and closed the door with a loud bang.

There was a short sort of awkward silence between them for a moment. The kind of effect it had when you were scolded by your mother in front of a wanted outlaw who hadn't been scolded since he was six years old. Everyone who had tried it after that age hadn't lived to tell the tale.

Eleanor got up from her seat and brushed off her skirt. "You best be out of that rocking chair before grandpa wakes up and puts his shotgun to your head. Cause mind you he will" she said and chuckled when Butch made every effort to look as unimpressed as he possibly could. But when she had finished dressing for the day and made her way to the stables, grandfather was occupying the rocking chair and Butch was nowhere to be seen.

Frank proved to be a useful contribution to the farm. Each day, mother made him do chores she or her daughter simply couldn't do. Like climbing onto the roof with a bucket of nails and a hammer to fix a few broken planks. It had caused leaks inside the stable every time it rained. He was more than happy to help with whatever needed to be repaired. Especially now that Butch seemed to be on the mend. Eleanor had the idea mother was putting the young man to work to compensate for his still recovering leader. It probably made the older woman feel less used in the current situation.

Butch was doing better. But he still couldn't be up for very long before feeling nauseas and dizzy again. He wandered around the ranch by himself and threw pebbles at Frank while he was working on the roof, until mother threatened to lock them both in the gear room. He had grown tired soon after that and was forced to lay down. But instead of locking himself in Eleanor's bedroom like he had done the previous days, he occupied the couch and didn't want to be excluded from any conversation that took place in the livingroom. He had even complied to take his boots off when mother had repeatedly accused him of getting sand allover the couch.

The older woman still grudgingly refused to have a real conversation with the recovering outlaw while she was knitting in the armchair next to the couch. But then again, no one could say Butch was really giving it some serious effort either. When Eleanor entered the livingroom around lunchtime, the silence was deafening and it was rather obvious the two were having a wordless showdown.

The young woman sighed and placed the bucket of milk on the dining table rather loudly. "well this looks like a rather amiable scene" she said. Mother gave her an unamused look from over her knitting work, a brown colored monstrosity that vaguely resembled a scarf. "Even if I'm forced to share my livingroom with the devil himself, I won't cease my work over it for one darn minute" the woman said, giving Butch an irritable look.

"He's not the devil, mother" said Eleanor and opened the oven to take out the tray "And you almost burned the biscuits"

"what ye girls gonna do about this ranch and the railroad, anyway? Looks te me like there aint gonna be biscuits te burn pretty soon" Butch mumbled, his face covered by his hat. "Any suggestions, mister Cavendish? Rob a bank to pay them off, maybe?" Mother sneered, holding up the scarf to see if she made any mistake in the pattern. Butch removed his hat from his face and ran a hand through his hair. "There aint no bank in these here parts that holds enough money te keep out the railroad, I can tell ye that" he chuckled.

Eleanor offered him a biscuit but he refused, feeling nauseous and too tired to eat. "You shouldn't have been running around all morning" Mother scolded him gently. "Now you're paying the price"

"Ahm fine. Give it te Frank. He's the one workin' his butt off like some damn idiot" Butch shot back.

"Frank, mister Cavendish, is paying for what you both are taking from this ranch!" Mother said, standing her ground as always. "I don't suspect lowlives such as yourself to understand how paying and receiving works but let me tell you one thing.. that boy out there.. he'll be ten times the man you'll ever be, and that's just how it is" with that statement she grabbed the plate with biscuits from Eleanor's hands and went outside to offer Frank both his own and Butch's meal, making sure the door slammed in its lock.

"Ah can't wait te tell that woman Frank shot a fourteen year old girl because she wouldn't hand over her bonnet" Butch mumbled, placing his hat over his eyes again. "Please don't.. he's turning out to be the son she always wished for. They wanted a boy.. my parents. I don't blame them for it either. Out here it's much more useful to raise a son instead of a daughter" Eleanor said, sitting down in her mother's armchair. She took a bite out of her biscuit, chewing on the dry and bland tasting bread.

"ahm gonna be sick"

"I know.. women are treated so unfairly in these parts. I'm glad you agree"

"No I'm really gonna be sick.." Butch growled and got up from the couch to rush outside to empty his stomach over the railing of the porch. The barrel of grandfather's shotgun pressed against his back firmly.

Still panting, the outlaw reached behind him and pushed the shotgun away irritably. There was nothing solid in his stomach to throw up. Only fluids, and they burned his throat. He looked down at the wet spot in the yellow sand, drying up quickly in the warm afternoon sun. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but he recognized every symptom and that sort of comforted him. It always got worse before it would get better. He just hoped the worst was over. This place was making his restless.

"Ahm fallin' apart.. " he mumbled, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and turned to face the old man. "Ye must know what ahm talkin' about, oldtimer..ahm sure yer dick fell off years ago. So don't ye go and pressin' barrels against mah back again or ye'll regret it"

Grandfather didn't make any movement to lower his gun until his granddaughter joined the scene with a worried expression on her face. "Are you alright?" she asked Butch.

"Don't matter if ah do or don't.. ahm riding out tomorrow te find the others. Ah'll leave Frank here so he can finish whut he started" the outlaw replied gruffly without looking at her. "And come back fer him in a few days"

"what made you decide this out of all sudden? You're not recovered yet. Not enough to ride" Eleanor said, trying to make him to look at her, but he refused to make eye contact. "ah know mahself much better than ye do, little miss shark. So don't ye go and tell me whether ahm fit te ride er not. If ah say ah am.. then ah am" he shot back. "And this has taken long enough anyway"

"it obviously hasn't taken long enough if you're still vomiting allover the place, has it? Are you going to undo all the hard work my mother and I put in your recovery just because you're feeling restless?" Eleanor said exasperated. She didn't quite understand herself why she was urging him to stay where he was. Hadn't it been her goal to patch him up enough for him to say that he was good to leave?

"and whut are ye gonna do when those four nice suits show up here again and find me and Frank cowering inside yer house? Hm? Just tell me what sort of genius plan ye had in yer goddamn stubborn mind te explain te those four why yer hiding wanted outlaws on yer property and still expect them te not hang ye for it!" Butch hollered and turned to face her, his blue eyes spitting fire. "Ah may not fix yer fucking fence or milk yer fucking cows but ah fucking know when ahm supposed te leave te ensure that this ranch won't be burned te the ground! Ah have mah own way te show gratitude, and ye best do well te remember that the greatest thing ah can do fer you is te git out of yer fucking life!"

He was a frightful sight to see when he was yelling so loudly and looking so furious and no one could deny that the thought he could very well kill her right there and then crossed Eleanor's mind. She decided to back off and leave him to make up his own mind. Butch Cavendish didn't negotiate, with no one. He was used to doing what he wanted to do, when he wanted it and no one could tell him to do otherwise. But the outburst had taken a number out of him and he went back inside, leaving the girl outside on the porch.

Sorry for the swearing.. he did it.. *points at Butch*