Thanks for all the reviews, favs and follows! To my guest reviewers: I cannot answer you all personally, but know that I greatly appreciate you taking time to comment!

Chapter 19.

Like always before a storm, the world around her became deathly quiet. There were no more coyotes to listen to, no more horses that whinnied down in the stables, and no more lazy guitar to let her know she was inside four walls, and not out there in the vast open spaces of the unforgiving desert. Surrounded by people, she had never felt more alone as in that moment, staring at the ever nearing dark rim of clouds. The wind played with the beads around her neck, their polished skins reflecting the light of the bolts of lightning in the distance. White Feather had hid herself away again, and Eleanor wondered in silence why the Indian woman had decided to present her with a string of her sacred jewellery.

The gangleader's coat around her shoulders felt heavy and warm, as if it not only carried layer after layer of dust, dirt and filth, but also the moral weight of every wrongdoing the man had ever committed. Yet the thick scent of sweat, horses and blood made her feel safe. She had grown accustomed to this smell, and her mind had started to associate it with safety. She swallowed thickly when her fingers found a hole in the thick wool, unmistakably created by a bullet. The material of the coat told the same story of Butch's violent life, as the skin on his chest had told her before. How many shot wounds could a man survive in his lifetime? How many times could a grown man get beaten, stabbed or thrown around, before his body gave out? Her father had scars when he returned from the war. One in his left shoulder, and one in his leg. The latter had caused him to walk with a limp for the rest of his days. Butch didn't limp, but he swayed in his steps, like his brain had long forgotten how to walk in a straight line.

She yawned, feeling an exhaustion in the pit of her stomach she had never experienced before. But the idea of falling asleep while surrounded by outlaws didn't sound very appealing, and so she tried to stay awake for aslong as she could. The crate she sat one, allowed her to place her arms on the edge of the wall, and rest her head on them as she tried to motivate her brain to stay alert by trying to calculate where the storm was at this very moment. What had she seen on her trip to Mexico, that could match up with the location of the clouds. What was getting soaked through at this moment, that had been dry as bone when she passed earlier that day? Maybe the tree with the skeleton. Poor guy, whoever he had been.

The quiet of the night made her even more sleepy, and she felt herself slowly relax. Her back throbbed with a dull ache from riding all day, her hands red and raw from holding on to the jaded leather reins of her mare, and her legs felt stiff from clinging on to the jostling animal. She wasn't used to it, and she figured it would pass soon. Butch showed little mercy when it came to the exhaustion of his men, or hers for that matter, it was only a matter of time before her body got used to the lack of sleep, nourishment and protection from the elements.

A lone drop hit the tip of her nose, and she blinked in surprise. The rain had started, and would soon turn into the storm she had been waiting for all evening. She pulled the heavy wool coat over her head, using it as a little tent, and wrapped the rest around herself tightly. She listened to the drops falling onto the sturdy material, more frequent each time. It wouldn't keep her dry for very long, but she didn't feel like moving just yet, or shield herself from the rain underneath the rickety roofs that hung over parts of the balconies. The wind that played with her long hair turned colder, and screeching birds flew over the fort, ahead of the nearing storm, announcing its arrival.

Down in the courtyard, a woman screamed, and desperately tried to get away from a big, bearded man, wearing no shirt. Up on the balcony where she sat, Eleanor turned to follow their interaction, hoping she would go unnoticed.

The woman rounded on the big man, yelling at him in Spanish, but he didn't seem impressed. He just chuckled, his hands on his gun belt, and took slow steps in her direction, forcing her across the courtyard until her back touched the mudstone wall. Even now she was cornered, the woman didn't cease her verbal attack, and effortlessly continued to yell at the dangerous looking man. He replied in her language, even though he wasn't from her country. His words sounded slurred, and the way he walked betrayed his intoxicated mind.

He moved with impressive speed when he finally decided to turn their fight physical, and grabbed the struggling woman by her throat, tearing her shirt away roughly. She screamed, and cursed, until he cupped her mouth with a big hand. When he raised his other hand to strike her, Eleanor's legs started to move before her brain had even given the command. She threw the coat off her and, tripping over her own skirt, stumbled down the wooden staircase into the courtyard.

"Stop! Stop it! Leave her alone!" Her voice barely reached over the sound of the pouring rain, increasing in strength with every second. When she arrived at the scene, the woman lay in a crumbled heap of bright colored shawls and long dark hair against the mudstone wall. The man had drawn his pistol at the sound of her voice, and turned to her while cocking his weapon. She stopped in her tracks, and watched his dark expression turn into a mocking grin.

A flash of lightning illuminated the man's face, revealing a badly healed scar that ran from his forehead, over his cheek, down to his chin. She wished her eyes didn't widen at the gruesome sight, that she hadn't stopped breathing for that split second, cause her shocked face seemed to amuse him greatly. She jumped slightly when a clap of thunder rolled through the dry desert sky. The storm had arrived, and she let her presence known in all her violent fury. She never broke eye contact with the man as she listened to the rain arriving at the walls of the fort, its sound breaching the atmosphere, until it poured down into the courtyard.

"Yer that prairie dove Cavendish dragged along, aint ye?!" he hollered over the sound of the heavy rainfall, his voice barely audible. She shivered, not from fear, but from the cold water soaking through her dress and chemise, touching her bare skin. Her wet hair in long dark strands like curtains framing her face. "He aint never was one for the damsels in distress, not as long as I've known him!" The man continued, taking another step closer. "So he just got us all wonderin' whut ye got no other woman ever gave to him!"

Too close for comfort now, she took a trembling step back, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. She could feel the cold water run down her hair and into her dress, giving her skin goose bumps. Her warm breath became visible in the cooled down night air, humid from the rain.

"If ye ask me.." The man said, his yellow shot eyes reflecting the lights of one of the lanterns. "Ye aint nuthin' special. Just another rancher's daughter lookin' for trouble in the right place." He continued backing her up across the courtyard.

"I have a gun.." she threatened weakly, her voice a trembling mess. "By God, I'll use it if you intend on killing that woman." Feeling tears well up in her eyes, she wiped them away roughly with her soaked sleeve. "I've seen enough blood shed in the past few days."

He laughed. "well, then ye shouldn't have come between me and that whore, missy. Cause if there's one thing ah hate, is people minding my business instead of their own. I guess ol' Butch should have taught ye that before handin' ye a gun." The man said.

"Is beating up women your business, sir?!" she shot back, lashing out like a cornered tom cat. If she was to die at the hands of this brute, she would die fighting him.

"It is if they refuse me." The man growled. "I don't take rejection from a damn whore. They serve any payin' customer. Ah thought, ye travellin' with ol' Butch, ye would have known all about them whores' life. Aint many ranch girls remainin' ladies once they're in a gang." He chuckled.

Without thinking, and offended at his crude remark, she struck him across his face. Then, realizing what she had just done, she drew in a sharp breath. The man seemed frozen for a second, while the scratch marks on his left cheek created by her finger nails, slowly started to bleed. He bared his teeth, and moved to grab her. Suddenly Frank was at her side, blocking the man's way with his own body. A gun clicked, and the man froze again.

"I don't think so, Jed." Eleanor recognized Barret's gruff voice, and couldn't help but smile at the arrival of her two unlikely heroes. The man, now held at gunpoint, slowly raised his hands in surrender. Barret stepped away from behind him, his gun still pointed at his head.

"Ye git that rusty barker out of mah face, ye French dog." Jed mumbled dangerously. Barret didn't move an inch.

"You causing trouble with them women again, Jed? Aint never a quiet night with you around, is there?" The army surgeon chuckled.

Now safe, Eleanor felt her legs tremble, and Frank's slender arms wrapped themselves around her thin frame. "Ye alright?" The young outlaw asked. "Did he hurt ye?" She shook her head and, remembering the woman knocked unconscious, gently shrugged Frank off. Unsteady, as if she was drunk, she moved over to the prostitute still laying in a crumbled mess. She hadn't moved, blood had covered her entire face, and her eyes stared into nothingness.

"He killed her.." Eleanor stated softly, feeling tears well up.

"Goddammit, Jed.." Barret grumbled. "That's the whore that just had a damn baby, you low life son of a bitch."

Jed spat on the ground, his hands on top of his head as he was still being held at gunpoint. "She refused me.. That's what ye git for refusing me."

"She refused you because she had a damn fucking baby!" Barret yelled, pressing the barrel of his gun deeper into Jed's skull, who whimpered in pain. "You've done it now. You're done for. If Rosa finds out they're gonna hang you next to that lawman in the desert."

Still gazing at the pointlessly butchered young woman, Eleanor felt Frank's presence next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Ye gotta get outta this rain, miss Hartley. Aint no helpin' her now. They'll go and bury her in the mornin'." The sound of a crying baby slowly reached her numbed mind, and she looked around frantically.

"He didn't kill the baby.." she said to no one in particular, and left Frank's side in her search to find the child. The heart tearing wailing came from one of the candle lit rooms surrounding the courtyard, and she found the baby unscathed in its crib, in a completely upturned room. She rushed to take the child in her arms, hushing it gently. "It's okay.." she soothed. "You're okay."

Suddenly there were voices in the courtyard, calling out to God knows what into the dark. Lanterns were being lit, and she could hear men run across the rickety wooden boards that made the balconies. The fort had awakened at the drama taking place in its courtyard. But all she could think about at that moment, was to get this child to stop crying, even though its mother had just been killed.

A haggard looking Rosa suddenly appeared next to her, her hazel eyes wild, her hair a mess, and her shirt unbuttoned. "Give me the child!" she commanded, taking the baby from Eleanor carefully, but without hesitation. "I'll have him killed for this. Dios mio, I swear I'll hang him for this." She rocked the baby in a slightly agitated manner, her eyes watery as she tried to swallow back her tears. Eleanor watched her walk back and forth in the upturned room, completely destroyed by the struggle that had taken place between Jed and the unfortunate child's mother. "I'll tie him behind a horse and have it drag him into the desert!" Rosa continued. "I'll have Cavendish rip his heart out.."

"I aint for hire.." Butch's gruff voice said. The gang leader leaned against the doorpost of the room, looking around with an unreadable expression on his face. His stained shirt hung open, and his suspenders were down, the trousers of his pants tucked into his boots. He had dressed in a hurry, much like Rosa. His gaze rested on Eleanor, and his eyes wandered up and down, scanning her body for injuries. "Ye alright?" she nodded.

Rosa huffed impatiently. "How is that every time you show up at my place, one of my girls ends up dead?!"

Butch shifted where he stood, looking almost offended. "How the hell is this mah fault?! God damn it, Rosa. Ah was layin' on top of ye when this happened! Ah don't think ye got a valid reason te blame me for this mess!"

"You're bad luck! Always have been! Always will be!" Rosa hissed at him, and moved around him to leave the room, still holding the crying baby to her bossom. "Not gonna argue with ye on that one.." Butch mumbled, gazing down at the tips of his snake leather boots. "But it still aint mah fault!" He called after her, over his shoulder. Embarrassed, Eleanor tried to look anywhere but at the gang leader, but eventually, they locked eyes again. "Guess ah'll git out of this room before the roof comes down.." He growled menacingly. "Since ahm such a piece of bad luck.." Before she could say something, he had turned to leave, and disappeared behind the curtain of rain still flooding the courtyard.

Rosa's guards had tied Jed's arms behind his back, and as he struggled against the ropes, he spat insults at every man he could identify in the pouring rain. Eleanor lingered in the destroyed room, pointlessly turning over the thin iron framed bed, setting it back on its four rickety legs, and throwing the pillows back onto the stained matrass. It wasn't until she heard Jed bark at Butch that she went out to see what was happening.

"That's a mighty fine gal ye got there skipping along with ye, Butch!" Jed hollered at the tired and uninterested looking gang leader, who had taken to circling around the tied up man, ignoring his spectators. "Ah bet she aint fresh though." Jed continued. "Bet yer whole gang ploughed through her like a damn freight train."

His words didn't seem to faze Butch, for the outlaw simply crossed his arms over his chest while watching the guards tie Jed to a post in the middle of the courtyard.

"Or maybe.." Jed spat, a grin on his face. "She don't belong te ye. Maybe she belongs te that damn brother of yers. Wasn't he always one to keep all them gals te himself? Then again.. with a face like yours.. who could have blamed any of those women for picking him over ye." He laughed. Butch's expression had darkened, and Ray had come to his side in an attempt to calm him down.

Jed mocked his surprised expression. "Oh ah git it." he said. "Ye want te keep this one te yerself, don't ye? He don't know about this one, does he? She aint properly introduced into the family yet, is she?" He chuckled menacingly. "As soon as he jingles his silver in front of er pretty little face, she gonna tell ye te go chase yerself.. Like all them others did."

Jed would have said more, had Butch's knife not been pressed against his throat. The gang leader had moved in a flash, growling like a wounded coyote, and was now an inch away from cutting the other man's jugular veins. Jed whimpered as the sharp knife dug into the soft skin of his throat, and held as still as he could.

"Ye got a pretty big mouth for a tied up man, Jed." Butch hissed, baring his teeth.

"Go ahead and kill me." Jed spat back. "Ye cut mah throat ye aint never setting foot in here again. Ye know the rules."

Butch growled again, sounding more like an animal than a man, and sunk the edge of his knife deeper into the man's skin. "Ah think ye did away with the rules when ye killed that whore. Ah think Rosa don't mind me cutting ye up like the pig ye are. Ah think ah'll take mah chances."

"Go te hell.." Jed grumbled.

"Ah'll get there, Jed." Butch confirmed. "But I aint goin' there blind and deaf like you will." He moved the knife to the man's right ear, causing him to whimper in fright. Eleanor looked away quickly when the soul tearing scream of the man echoed through the courtyard, causing the horses to neigh and rear in panic. Another clap of thunder rolled through the sky, and the spectators surrounding the bleeding man and his attacker, retreated under the balconies. Only Frank remained at close proximity to his leader, his arms wrapped around himself.

"Butch, the storm's getting worse! Ye gotta git inside!" He pleaded.

Taking a step back to admire his work, Butch grinned at the crying and bleeding man in front of him. "Nah, Frankie!" He called back to his henchman. "She's just getting' started!" Another flash of lightning revealed Jed's bloodied face, and the intense fear in his eyes as Butch held up the dripping knife to him. "We haven't seen nuthin' yet.." The leader hissed at him. At the second scream that tore through her head like Butch's knife had cut through her brain, Eleanor felt herself getting lightheaded. She was still standing when another flash of lightning ripped through the sky, but had blacked out by the time the thunder followed.