Chapter 9. Enjoy and thanks for the favs and reviews! They help a lot. R&R please!

When evening came and the sun finally disappeared on the horizon, a strange silence fell over the distant prairie. Too early for the usual quiet that emerged during the night. But to folks who lived out there, were raised there and build a life. The silence was a sign of something coming. Something that returned every year and cost a lot of people and animals their lives. The cold of winter.

The cool season, as people called it, had arrived. And for those who lived outside the safety of a town it was the least favourable season of all. Because inside a town, most of the cold cutting wind from the North was blocked by the houses. Life was hard in the cold, windy wooden cabins out on the tall grass fields. Animals, as well as people, suffered from the cold. Cows could no longer stay outside when the snow started falling and the grass would freeze up. Horses needed blankets or they could get frostbite and die on you. You were nowhere without a horse.

Grandfather had predicted the coming snow a month before. And as usual, the two women that ran the ranch had made the necessary preparations. Food has been stored and blankets had been purchased or handmade. More wood had been chopped and dried in grandpa's shed. It was all you could do to prepare for winter. There was no stopping it. It was going to be a cold night and Eleanor was grateful to have the two men inside the house for now. No one deserved to be out there in this weather. Not even criminals. She wondered how the rest of Butch' gang was doing. She hadn't had the time or bravery to get to know them better, and she now regretted that.

"Ah luv me some snow" Frank said, gazing out of the window. "ah was always pretty good at them snowball fights when ah was small"

Mother looked up from her knitting work. The scarf she was making was turning out to be a blanket. Not due to choice, but necessity. Mrs. Hartley had never been very good at knitting, but that didn't mean she didn't keep trying every late summer, to knit scarfs and sweaters for every occupant. All of them turning into quilts along the way.

"you're still small, Frank Taylor.. don't you waste a second thinking to yourself you're a grown man. A grown man makes his own decisions. And you are still following that wild dog around like you owe him" she spoke.

Frank frowned. "Ah do owe him.." he said quietly. "Ah was all alone and e'said ah could come with him so ah did"

Mother huffed in disagreement, shooting a quick look at the closed bedroom door. Butch had been asleep for the rest of the day. She didn't know the details of the conversation he had had with her daughter, but it had somehow resulted in the outlaw locking himself away again.

"would you jump of a bridge if he told you so?" she asked cynically.

"whut would he want me te do that for?"

She just raised her eyebrows, not looking up from her knitting work. Eleanor had been outside feeding the animals and entered the house, her shawl and hair dusted with the first snowflakes of the season.

"I took the sheep inside. No good for them to stay out in this weather. It's getting really cold" she said and removed the shawl from her shoulders. "I think we can let the hens out tomorrow though. There isn't much wind. I think they'll be fine in the daytime"

Mother placed her knitting to the side and got up to put the kettle on the fire. "All this talk about the cold moving in makes me thirsty for some hot tea" she mumbled more to herself than anyone else. Eleanor turned to Frank, who was still peering out of the window in silent wonderment.

"How's Mr. Cavendish?" she asked. The young man shrugged a little, pulling the blanket around his shoulders tighter. As if a shiver had ran through his body at the mention of his leader. "he got himself a tummy ache but.. that aint nuthin' new aint it?"

Eleanor sighed in annoyance, taking off her boots and tossing them into a corner. "That man.. comes over here and scares the living daylights out of innocent women cause he's oh so ill and now wants to leave before he even recovered. I don't get it.. I don't get men.. I give up" she said irritably. Frank blinked in confusion at her little rant. "e'wants te leave? When?"

Now she had done it. Butch hadn't informed his gang member about his plans yet. She removed the braid from her hair and tousled the long wet strands, no longer in the mood for ribbons. If she was going to break the news to Frank, she would do it on her own terms.

"apparently he thinks it's a good idea to leave tomorrow morning to find his gang and leave you here to come back for you in a few days. He said he wanted you to finish what you started" she explained, her hands in her sides. The young criminal just stared at her in shock and bewilderment.

"What.. did ah start?"

Eleanor chuckled and shook her head. she had never met a more oblivious man that could make every stupid question sound endearing. She was going to miss Frank, and not only because he was a good extra pair of hands but because he made her and her mother laugh when they really didn't feel like laughing. Mother appeared from the kitchen with a tray of steaming cups and pushed one into Frank's hands.

"Drink that up while it's still steaming and you might live through the night to see another sunrise. This cold is going to be barbaric, I tell you" the older woman said and gave Eleanor her cup.

"Ah remember.. last year.. it was real cold and we all slept outside. And Barret got sick and coughed all night and ah couldn't sleep.. no one could. Ahm happy to be inside now.. " Said Frank and sipped his cup carefully. The two women were rendered speechless by his sad story. Not only outlaws and criminals slept outside. Trappers, cowboys and other sorts of trades that caused a man to be on horseback a lot. All good folk that had to spend their nights out in the open. A good trade to have during the summer months. A risky career choice during the cold season.

"The Lord brought you to us, Frank Taylor. I think he'd like you to stay and be our ranch hand. You are welcome to start your honest life here" Mother said, gazing at Frank with a serious expression. But Frank looked scared even considering it. "whut about Butch?" he asked.

"what about him?!" Mother shot back, her voice rising in volume, causing Frank to shrink a little. "what about that crabby old low dog?! That good for nothing piece of trash! For God's sakes! Why are you so hell bend on wasting your loyalty on a man who wouldn't walk ten inches for you!"

So wrapped up in her tirade, mother hadn't realized Butch was standing in the doorway of the bedroom with his hand clutching his abdomen. Once she followed Frank's wide eyed stare, she fell silent but there was no regret or fear on her face.

"ah need some laudanum " he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. His face was as pale as it had been last night and his eyes looked weary and sunken in. It always got worse during the evening hours. Making it almost impossible for him to sleep and get the rest he so desperately needed. But he still had to admit that being sick in this place was worlds better than being sick out there in the cold with his gang functioning as caretakers. Something they really weren't all that good at.

Eleanor nodded and got up. "I'll get it for you. Go back to bed.. " he simply nodded and turned around, closing the door behind him.

"That dog owes me three bottles of laudanum and you tell him that when you two ride off, you hear me" Mother said, giving Frank a sharp look. The young outlaw nodded frantically. "Ah'll tell him ye said that, Ma'am but ah don't think he'll do anything with it. He don't take no laudanum when he aint sick. Ah know Barret gots laudanum with him all the time cause he gets them headaches sometimes" Frank said.

"I don't remember no Barret and I sure don't care about being reintroduced neither" the woman said, concentrating on her knitting again. Her fingers had started trembling from anger so much, she started making mistakes in the pattern. She cursed under her breath silently while undoing the faulty stitches.

Eleanor was getting used to the ups and downs in the gang leader's sickness. He seemed to feel better in the morning, after a long night's sleep, and got gradually worse throughout the day until he could do nothing but lay down and try to rest it off. He was in no condition to ride or be outside in her opinion, and she had to admit she was worried. Worried about Butch Cavendish. A wanted man, a notoriously vicious outlaw. It was the fault in her stars, probably. Like father had always told her. The only daughter of the Hartley family, growing up far away from any buzzling town. Unsuccessful in finding a suitable husband because there were simply none around that weren't old or full of mischief. The man had always regretted raising a daughter in the empty high plains. Lost in her memories of father's foretelling words she had mixed a few drops of laudanum in some fresh water and had brought it to the ailing criminal wordlessly.

"whut's on yer mind, little miss shark?"

She shook her head to get rid of her gloomy thoughts and blinked. Butch was sipping his glass and made a face at the bitter taste. "If this sickness aint gonna kill me this shit might.." he complained.

"I don't think it works with sugar in it.." she said, busying herself with picking up clothes and folding them onto a chair. Maybe it wasn't a good sign that she was getting comfortable with him around, but there was no denying it. Once you've seen someone in their weakest and most vulnerable moments, it's hard to still fear him for what he is to the outside world. And he, in turn, let her tend to him with a trust he didn't bestow on many people. They had gotten used to eachother's presence.

"come on now.. ah can see yer mind is somewhere else. Not in this room. Where are ye?" Butch asked again, downing his glass in one swig to get it over with. She looked up at him with a dazed expression. "I'm fine, just.. thinking.. worried"

"About the ranch?" he asked and moved his pillow so he could lay flat on his back. He had been sitting up to drink his medicine but the position was exhausting him.

"About you actually" Eleanor said. He opened one eye to look at her for a moment and closed it again, chuckling tauntingly. Feeling offended by his reaction, she huffed and turned to leave.

"Hey! Stay.. aint no use worrying about me in the living room.. ye might as well worry about me where ah can see ya" he said. "Besides ah might git worse er sumthin'" he taunted her. "Ah might need another blanket er… decide ah want a bedtime story..have ye sing fer me" he put his arms under his head, making himself for comfortable. She had turned around to face him with an unamused expression but that just made him chuckle.

"Come on, little miss shark. Have a seat. Can't say we didn't have a nice time last night, can ye? Ah like yer company" she didn't look convinced and crossed her arms over her chest. He grunted when a flare of hot pain shot through his lower abdomen and placed his hand on his stomach. "Helps with the pain" he mumbled softly. The sincerity in that last statement did the trick and she slowly sat down in the chair next to his bed.

"this is exactly why I'm worried about you wanting to leave tomorrow morning. What if it starts hurting like this while you're out there?" she asked. He waited till the pain had somehow subsided a little before answering her.

"It would mess up my day, that's whut" he grumbled. "Ah don't want te talk about how sick ah ahm. Ah know how sick ah ahm.. Ah don't need ye te remind me! Tell me somethin'.. anythin'.. what was yer pa's name?"

"William.. William John Hartley" she said after a short silence. "what was your father's name?"

He stared at the ceiling, the wooden beams he had come to know so well he had almost given them names and tried to think of something else than the hot pain in his stomach. "uhh.." he frowned, trying to remember the name of that lousy sack of shit that was his father. "Ah think it was Tobias.. But I aint sure.. ahm tryin' te ferget te bastard" he chuckled.

After what he had told her yesterday, she didn't think that was such a strange idea. The man didn't sound like he had been a very loving father to his son. "And your mother?" Eleanor asked.

"Ah don't remember her name. I barely knew her. She died when ah was very young. My brother could tell you all about er'"

"You have a brother?"

He nodded and gave her a wary look. "No more questions.. " he grumbled. Eleanor blinked in surprise at the sudden harsh tone in his voice. His brother was obviously a topic he didn't wish to discuss with her. Not everybody got along with their family.

She knew she had been blessed with her kind mother, grandfather and a relatively good operating ranch. There were people out there in the fast distances who lived in much harsher conditions. Who suffered hardships and losses like the criminal before her. These parts had a tendency to turn good men into drunken wrecks. She had always believed father's words. That human beings just weren't cut out to live in such wide open spaces. It was like keeping a lone horse in a wide open meadow. She would go crazy eventually.

"I'm sorry for your loss. Is there anything you do remember about her? It's good to try to remember.. she was your mother. She should not be forgotten" Eleanor said quietly, trying to smile. He didn't look at her. Instead, he was still staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts.

"been a long time since ah thought about er'" he admitted after a while, the harsh tone gone "ah just remember her eyes.. they were blue"

"Like yours.." she smiled. "They remind me of dog eyes" he raised an eyebrow. "No really! Let me explain.. sometimes cowboys or settlers pass through our lands. They keep dogs with them for protection with one blue eye and one brown eye. Indians are afraid of dogs like that.. they think they have spiritual powers. Your eyes remind me of them" she said, smiling brightly.

He chuckled softly and closed his eyes, feeling a sudden weariness. "ahm ah yer spirit dog, miss Hartley?" he asked, turning to his side to get more comfortable. "keepin' the injuns away?"

"what, are you going to chase them around barking?" she asked, amused. He grinned, half asleep already and nuzzled into his pillow. He was going to miss this damn bed the most of all. Sleeping on a dusty old saddle blanket did a number on one's spine.

Eleanor dimmed the light of the oillamp and pulled the blankets and furs up to his chin. He didn't mind it anymore. He enjoyed her company and liked the idea of her staying close to him as he slept. Like many troubled men, sleep did not come easily for him. But it seemed that when she was sitting next to his bed with her calming gentle presence, his dreams weren't quite as bad as usual. The demons of his past were somehow kept at arm's length. He was already asleep when she closed the door behind her.

Mother had gone to bed already. Keeping the fire going in the livingroon only wasted precious dried wood. One did better to just turn in for the night when it was so cold. Frank had been given some extra blankets and seemed to be vast asleep on his usual spot on the couch. Eleanor was alone, but she didn't mind. She had always liked her moments of solitude, there weren't many of them left. She curled up on a chair by the window. The tiny snowflakes at the beginning of the evening had turned into fat flakes twirling down the sky.

She was going to miss Butch Cavendish, complicated as their bond now seemed to be. The thought she would never see him again seemed almost absurd now, for he had become such a big part of her life in those few days. She hugged her knees and leaned her head against the window until the glass became so foggy she could no longer make out the barn and shed in the distance.