Holy balls.. so sorry for the slow updates, folks. Life has been a little rough lately. I promise the next update won't take this long. Enjoy!

Chapter 18

The longer you spend in the noise of the courtyard, the more it started drowning out every other sound around you, turning into an almost pleasant background buzz. Mixed with the bland flavoured wine Barret had managed to arrange for her, the sounds of the hollering criminals, firing their guns and pointlessly shattering their empty plates, turned into white noise in her head. Now the depth of night had arrived, the men had become so drunk, the cheerful mood had turned into something more gruesome. Fights had broken out, and women were grabbed and pulled onto laps roughly and against their will. The children had disappeared from the scene, and even the dogs had retreated into the stables or under carts.

It was at that point that Barret manoeuvred Eleanor out of the courtyard, with Frank on their heels. He brought her up, onto the balconies, and had found a quiet spot in one of the four corners of the fort. He had left the two young people there, in search of the room he promised her.

Sitting beside eachother on the high wall, Frank and Eleanor let their feet dangle over the edge, peering down at the few men who had left the courtyard, and, unsuccessful at finding a room, fondled their women against the walls, still warm from being in the sun all day. The quiet of the desert surrounding them stood in sharp contrast to the ruckus that continued in the courtyard below. Both the girl and the young outlaw jumped slightly at the sound of the first gun shot, and the screaming of a woman that followed.

"Is all fun and games until someone decides te kill someone." Frank told her, almost apologizing. Her shocked expression said it all, he needed no reply from the young woman to understand what went on in her mind.

"Ah wish ah could name the stars like Butch can.. " Frank continued, changing the subject. He gazed up at the pitch black sky, the stars like beacons in the dark. "But ah always forget their names.." Eleanor looked up, digging into her clouded memory for her grandfather's lessons. It felt like digging into a past life, in which she had died and had been reborn into the world of today, the world she was living in right now.

"See that bright star up there?" she started, pointing directly up. "That's the North star. Right above her, that's the Big Dipper. And below her.. That's Cassiopeia."

"Did Butch tell you all about it too?" Frank asked. "He's turning ye into a regular trail hand, aint he?"

She shook her head, still gazing up. "Nah, Frank. I could always name the stars. That was never my problem."

Barret returned some time later, and stiffly heaved himself onto the white bleached wall next to the two younger people, his legs significantly longer than theirs, his spurs clicking against the stone. "I got good news, and I got bad news. Which one would you like to hear first?" He announced, following her gaze up to the sky.

"Bad news comes first." Frank said. "That's what mah ma always said anyway."

"Bad news is; I couldn't get you a room for tonight. Because none of these damn whores are willing to rent out their rooms without them in it. So unless you're in for a girls night out party with a Spanish speakin' harlot, I can't offer you anything." Barret explained.

She chuckled involuntarily at his colourful descriptions, getting much used to the foulmouthed criminals surrounding her. "So what's the good news?" she asked.

"Good news is; once all these men had their way with them whores, the rooms will become available again. So all you need is a little patience, really."

She made a face, not sure she wanted to sleep in sheets that had been used for such a purpose. "That's your good news?" He shrugged, peering up at the stars again.

"Probably as good as it's going to get in this place." He mumbled. "I've been out here for years, yet this vista still amazes me every time. I didn't see many stars where I grew up. The air wasn't dry enough for them."

"Jack's from Virginia." Frank said, and immediately regretted his words as Barret grabbed him by his collar roughly, pushing him dangerously toward the edge.

"You got wings, Taylor?!" The older man hissed. Frank whimpered and shook his head frantically. "You remember that next time you reveal something about my life, cause next time you fly!" Frank nodded, and mumbled his apologies until he was released with a last violent shove.

Eleanor noticed about herself she wasn't as impressed by this show of violence as she used to be. The rough manner the criminals treated eachother with, was something she had gotten used to. Frank received a lot of tough love, but none of them would ever really harm him.

"My father's family was from Virginia." She said. "Or atleast, his grandparents were. I know my great great grandfather worked on a plantation, he took care of the horses of some rich family. My father told me once, his grandfather had told him that the worst thing about rich families were the sons." She giggled softly.

Barret didn't look at her, and it took him awhile to answer. "Yea, he was probably right." After an uncomfortable silence, the mood thickening, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pocket watch, his French last name engraved into the golden plated time piece. "I'm one of those sons." He said, holding out the watch to her by its golden chain. She took it from him carefully, and studied the extravagant object in her hands. "Open it." He encouraged.

Never having touched a pocket watch, she didn't know how, and fumbled with it for a while until he clicked his tongue and took it from her, opening it himself, he gave it back. The faded, black and white portrait of a man stared back at her, unmistakably wearing a clerical collar.

"That's my father." Barret explained. "I grew up with the idea that my father had hundreds of children cause everyone called him exactly what I called him. Everyone called him father. All our slaves.. even my mother. Gets sort of confusing." She gazed at the photo. The man had Barret's unruly curly hair, and the same stern, cold eyes.

"You look like him." she remarked. He shook his head.

"I'm nothing like the bastard." He said. "That's why I left." She refrained from asking why he considered his father a bastard, thinking it more wise to simply let the outlaw do his story.

Frank fished the pocket watch from her hands and looked at the picture, turning the object around a couple of times until the photo made sense to his simple brain.

"Dammit, Frank!" Barret hollered, reaching out to grab the time piece from him, but Frank laughed and held it up where Barret couldn't reach. "If you drop that I swear to God, you'll be following right after it!"

"Say please!" Frank teased, laughing hysterically.

Chuckling, she removed herself from the war zone she had been sucked into, and climbed off the wall, leaving the two wrestling criminals behind. While they had been sitting there, the quiet had fallen over the courtyard below. Only the lazy tunes of a tired guitar player sitting on a barrel in a corner confirmed that not everyone had fallen asleep yet. The long wooden tables had mostly been abandoned, except for a few loudly snoring outlaws that had fallen asleep over their plates, their drinks still in their calloused hands. Empty bottles, and leftovers from the meals littered the dusty ground. The dogs had returned, scavenging for bones among the wasted food.

She leaned over the railing, and when she stretched her neck, she could see some of the men sleeping on the ground under the balconies, their backs against the walls of the fort, no longer hungry and satisfied from every other need a man could entertain. None of them were part of the gang she travelled with. And its leader was nowhere to be found.

The balconies, illuminated by rusty, ancient looking lanterns, were mostly deserted. The armed guards had disappeared, and apart from the occasional tired looking man leaving one of the rooms, there was no one to keep her from going around the fort. The wooden boards cracked underneath her old shoes, and she silently hoped no one would notice her presence. The silence was so deafening, she could hear the coyotes howl and yelp outside the walls. The horses, down in the stables, whinnied restlessly in response. She inhaled the cool night air; smelling like burned wood and sage.

Arriving at the second corner, she heard quiet voices, speaking softly to one another. The words were lost to her, but the conversation seemed to be light-hearted and between two people who knew eachother well. Careful about making her presence known, she peeked around the corner. Butch was leaning lazily against the mudstone wall of one of the rooms, studying the smoke from his cigarette, rising up into the black skies. Rosa sat on a crate next to him, seemingly wrapped in her own thoughts as well.

"You're killing her." Rosa started after a while, looking up at the criminal. "You know that right?"

He moved his eyes to meet hers slowly, a grin forming on his face. "Yer still livin"

She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "I didn't grow up on a ranch, Cavendish." She shot back, and got up from the crate. Her own cigarette almost done, she had been smoking it in a hurry, while he took his time. "I was raised by people like you."

"people like me.." He repeated, no longer looking at her. His words seemed slurred, like his tongue was too big for his mouth. It wasn't a question, he was simply processing her words through his intoxicated mind, pondering whether it had been an insult or not.

"Poisonous people." She turned to him, the same fire in her hazel eyes as before. "As poisonous as that snake that bit you." She nodded at the rattlesnake tail braided into his long hair. He blinked at her slowly, no apparent expression on his face. She turned away again, pacing around the crates while muttering her frustrations in Spanish.

"Sucker paid dearly for it." He mumbled.

She rounded on him quickly, holding a finger an inch from his face. "And so will you." She warned him, swallowing thickly, as if she was suddenly overcome with emotion. "Dios mio, Butch.. What have you done?" He raised his chin at her, regarding her coldly and gave no further reply. She huffed at him in disbelief, and threw her finished cigarette on the floor. "What is to become of this girl? Have you ever thought of that for one minute?"

He shrugged, turning his head into the direction of the desert, peering at the distant horizon of the endless landscape. "They're gonna hang her ma.." He started. "For killin' a railroad man."

Rosa sighed and shook her head. "And I suppose you told her she would be safe with you?" she huffed, the sarcasm dripping off her voice. He still stared off into the distance, and said nothing for a while. "What do you know about travelling with a woman hm?" she asked, chuckling bitterly. "A girl.."

"She's tough.." he mumbled, like it explained everything. "Been through quite something already."

"She's a young girl!" Rosa repeated more forcefully, as if the man had hardly heard her. "I may be a whore, but I know innocence when I see it. You're ruining her.."

Butch shifted where he stood, but still refused to look at her.

"We have nothing to offer to people like her." She whispered. "Only fear."

Eleanor couldn't see Butch's face, but she had a slight idea of what his expression was like at the moment. His contemplating stare was something she had seen before. It made his vibrant blue eyes pale and cloud over with worry and something unreadable she had not yet deciphered.

"Aint no use leavin' her here though." He mumbled. "Not with her ma out there. She'd just be following"

"You could take her to the nearest train station and put her on her way back to the East. Where all these chiquitas come from! These rancher's daughters." Rosa shot back. "Like these people know what to do with themselves once they're here." She huffed.

Feeling a sudden rush of anger come over her, Eleanor stepped into the dim light of the dying lantern that was standing on one of the crates, her face a sharp contrast of yellow brightness and dark shadow. Breathing heavily, her eyes went from the outlaw now gazing at her tiredly, to the rather surprised looking woman.

"I'm not a child!" she started, feeling her courage leave her the longer she faced the two people staring back at her. "And I'm not planning on getting on any train East!" Neither of them said anything, and it just made the despair inside her grow even stronger. "You can't make me!" she called out. "Like he said I..I would just be following."

Butch, mildly impressed by her sudden entrance, chuckled softly. "Headstrong little than', aint she? Determined too."

"And under the impression she's in a position to negotiate." Rosa spoke calmly, but her eyes told Eleanor something different. As dull as they had been earlier this evening, as fiery were they now, regarding the young rancher's daughter with a mixture of pity, frustration and even contempt.

"I'm not a captive." Eleanor argued, taking a step back as the woman approached her slowly, circling her like a cat would its prey. "I can leave whenever I want to."

"And go where?" Rosa said, making a hand movement toward the vast endless desert surrounding them. "Join the coyotes? Hm?" Eleanor was silent, admitting defeat. "Thought so.." Rosa said, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're a captive of your own decisions. And in that you're not so different from the men you're travelling with."

"Thanks, Rosa.." Butch grumbled. "Ye know exactly how to make everythin' sound terrible."

"It is terrible.." Rosa confirmed, gazing sadly at the young woman before her. "Don't you have family back east where you can go to? Away from this mess?"

"I am not leaving my mother behind to be hanged." Eleanor said defiantly. "For killing a man that tried to burn down our house, and killed my grandfather."

The Latina was silent for a moment, and let out a big sigh. She folded her slender arms across her chest. "And you think becoming an outlaw will save her? You think you're the only one who lost people? Lost their home? Look around you! You're surrounded by people like that.. do you truly want to become like them?"

Eleanor dropped her eyes to the wooden floorboards, and didn't look up when she felt Rosa's hands on her arms, squeezing them gently. "Life is unfair." she continued, taking off her colourful shawl to wrap it around Eleanor's trembling shoulders, sighing heavily. "I was just like you once.." she explained softly. "Don't make the mistakes I made." She almost begged. After a moment of silence the woman snapped out of her soft mood, letting go of the girl.

She turned to Butch, her hands on her hips. "Don't keep me waiting too long. You're not getting those coins back." She told him, and in a whirlwind of bright coloured shawls and skirts, Rosa passed her by and made her way down the balcony. An uncomfortable silence followed while they both listened to the dying sounds of Rosa's steps on the wooden boards. Clearing her throat nervously, Eleanor tightened her hold on the shawl around her shoulders.

"I..I'm sorry if I interrupted something. I just.. heard something about a train and I.." she started.

"Come 'ere, Sharky."

She hesitated for a moment, and then approached him carefully. Facing Butch after eavesdropping on his conversation with Rosa was harder than she had anticipated, and she was aware how heavy her legs felt when she took the few steps into his direction. He was still leaning against the wall calmly, and gave her a weak, lopsided smile when she came into his view. The thick smell of heavy liquor hung around him, mixed with the spicy scent of his cigarettes.

"Did ye push Frank off the wall?" he asked, causing her to smile instantly.

"Barret almost did." She confirmed. "Listen, I..I just arrived. I didn't hear anything you two were talking about..I mean.. before the train. " He took a last draw from his cigarette before sending it flying over the high wall with a flick of his finger. He stretched, his arms raised above his head, and let out an uncomfortable moan when his spinal cord snapped.

"Don't lie to me, Sharky." He spoke softly, rolling his shoulders counter clock wise in an attempt to loosen his muscles. "Ye don't want te do that."

She was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry if I interrupted something important." She whispered.

"Nuthin' but the muttering of a whore." Butch confirmed, but he didn't seem to completely agree with his own words. "Alright, Sharky.. ahm off.." he announced. She dropped her eyes to the floor, realizing where he was going. The thought embarrassing her. She rubbed her arm absentmindedly, not knowing what to say in response.

"Are you going to do as she said?" she asked quietly.

Halting in front of her, he let out a deep sigh while searching for the right words to say. "ah could probably get you a first class ticket too. Ah got my connections." He chuckled, but it died away when she didn't smile. Shifting where he stood, he rubbed the back of his head in uneasiness. "I aint gonna put ye on no train, alright?" she nodded, but couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Look at me." He ordered. She looked up into his blue eyes, reflecting the light of the lanterns around them. "Things got too complicated for that. Blood's been spilled. Ye got a price on yer head. Putting ye on a train aint gonna solve none of this."

She was silent, blinking slowly.

He shifted again, as if nervous, and cleared his throat. For a moment it seemed he was just going to turn around and leave. "But since everyone seems to think I adopted a woman into mah gang!" He said loudly, looking around in agitation. She chuckled softly, not able to help herself, his antics always made her smile. "Ah guess we're just gonna have te find a way to get ye through this." He finished in a softer tone. "Ah got a few tricks up mah sleeve yet, Sharky. But yer gonna have te be patient."

She nodded, looking down at her feet again.

"Yer cold?" He asked. She hadn't even noticed the shiver that shook her body when a rush of cold air hit her. Before she could reply, he had taken off his coat and placed it around her trembling shoulders. The hem of the torn fabric almost reaching till her ankles. "Stay outta trouble." He whispered close to her ear, his rough voice giving her goosebumps of which she would deny their existence till the end of her days, and turned to leave. He left her there, in pursuit of Rosa, and she could hear the door of her quarters close and lock moments later. She huddled closer into the old coat, carrying the strong scent of its owner.

The lightning of the nearing storm drew her attention, and as if hypnotized by its view, she walked to the furthest corner of the fort, as close to the grey clouds as the walls could take her, and there she leaned on the warm stone, gazing at the bright bolts touching the dry earth. It was going to hit them sooner or later. The wind the storm blew forth, smelled like rain and wet dirt. The clouds came from the trail they had followed into Mexico, and she wondered if the storm had already hit Colby. The thought of her mother, alone in a cell, with weather like this, made her heart ache.

"Hold on, mother." She whispered to no one in particular. "I'll get you out of there."

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed the Apache woman White Feather standing by the same wall, gazing at the storm as well. She started her mysterious chanting moments later, as if she was beckoning the clouds to come closer. Eleanor could only guess what the words meant, and averted her attention back to the nearing storm, allowing the cold wind to play with her long hair. When White Feather had finished her ritual, she came up to the girl determinedly, speaking in her native tongue while tugging on Butch's torn coat.

Eleanor could only shake her head. "I'm sorry. I don't understand." She said softly.

White Feather blinked, and reached up to take off one of her necklaces, adorned with beads and the teeth of a certain animal. Carefully, she placed it around Eleanor's neck, her hand on the girl's heart for a moment. "Protection.." she said.

Eleanor looked down at her new decoration, touching the white fangs for a moment. "Thank you, but I already wear protection." She argued softly, reaching into her bodice to retrieve a small silver cross, the one Grandfather had given her, a long time ago. But White Feather shook her head, and tucked the cross back into the girl's shirt.

"The more Gods the better." She said.