To Outlaw Bear: Your guest review just made my day! Thank you so much for being so kind. I hope this next chapter will bring you the same joy. I know I can't reply to you personally, but I needed to reach out to you any way I possibly could, to thank you properly!
To the guest reviewer with the good question about Eleanor's age: She's 24 Thanks!
To all of my other reviewers, favs and follows: Thank you thank you thank you! You guys inspire me to keep writing! Enjoy the next chapter!
Chapter 21:
She wasn't awake to hear the storm hit the fort in all her autumn fury. She was wrapped in the dream that kept haunting her since the day she met the gang leader who now chased his demons across the Mexican desert like a wild animal. They were images of coyotes with blue eyes. Rabbits devouring eachother mercilessly, the steam and sound of train engines, and a native village slowly burning to the ground while the eerie sound of crying children echoed through the smoke filled sky.
Frank never strayed from her side that night. Sitting in a corner of the room in a rickety old chair, he kept a respectful distance from the girl in the bed, but his eyes never left her sleeping form, restless as it was. She tossed and turned like the matrass was made out of nails, and the sheets were hot as coals. Her dreams plagued her, like he knew they could do, but he didn't have the courage to rise her. And Barret had told him to let her sleep no matter what she did or said. It was smart to heed Barret's advice in these sort of situations. He knew what he was talking about after all.
Thinking about his leader, chasing his poor mare through this loud weather, he frowned in anger and disappointment. It should have been him sitting in this chair, looking out for her, like he knew she wanted. But as usual, Butch had left the complicated tasks to his gang. Matters of the heart were never easy, Frank remembered his mother saying. They can make you as tired as if you had been ploughing a field all day. Matters of the heart feel like draining a sink. Only the sink is your heart, and the water your stamina.
He jumped at another loud crack of thunder, never having been a hero himself when it came to thunderstorms. But he needed to be tough for Eleanor tonight, and so he shut off his own fear, and braved himself through this weather, awake and alert, watching over her like a true friend would do. Turning his head toward the open window, he shivered at the cold breeze rushing over him, the rain was so loud, it drowned out every other sound. The balconies, flooded with water, abandoned. And the whole fort pitch dark, no lanterns that survived the amount of water that came down from the sky. But he didn't worry about Butch being able to find his way back, in case he wanted to, his leader had proved time and time again he had perfect night vision. Almost inhuman. If you thought about it.
He had begun falling asleep, dozing off against his own will, when he was shaken from his slumber by the sound of a neighing horse that came to a breezing halt, and later, heavy footsteps on the creaking wooden staircase that lead into the courtyard. Reaching for his gun, Frank straightened his back, ready to wear off any unwanted trespasser in the bedroom of the young woman he was appointed to guard.
A soaked through Butch stepped into the room, his long coat leaving a trail of drops on the dusty wooden floor. Noticing the young man in the corner with a gun pointed at him, he halted. "The hell are you doin' here?"
Frank, recognizing his leader, quickly put his gun away, almost dropping it to the floor in his clumsy hurry. "Ahm sorry, Butch. Ah didn't know it was you." He stammered apologetically. "Ah was just.. guarding miss Hartley here. Don't want no one comin' in here to do.. bad things.. te her.. again."
Butch didn't reply, and took off his dripping hat, wringing it out before carelessly tossing it on the floor. "yea well, get out." He mumbled, slowly taking off his drenched coat, his body stiff in every movement. "Ah'll take it from here."
Looking uncertain, Frank didn't budge, and slowly leaned back into his chair defiantly. "Whut ye gonna say te her when she wakes up then?" he asked, a frown on his young face. "Cause ah don't want te see her cry again."
Giving out an angry snarl, Butch reached over to grab Frank by the front of his shirt, and pulled him out of his chair. "Shut up." He hissed, pushing Frank in the direction of the doorway. "Git out before ah blow a hole in yer head."
Although giving out small yelps in fear as he stumbled through the room, Frank turned in the doorway, rubbing his now throbbing arm. "Rosa said she gon' knock yer other tooth out if ye make miss Hartley cry again." He shot back angrily. Butch pulled out his gun, pointing it at his young henchman, who now seemed close to tears, but not because he was talking into the barrel of a revolver. "She got all sick when ye left." Frank continued. "Barret said yer making her sick, and ah think ah believe him."
"Git out, Frank." Butch warned. "Ah aint tellin' ye again. Get Ray for me."
"He's sleepin'" Frank protested weakly.
"Then wake him!"
With one last glance at the sleeping young woman, Frank unwillingly turned to leave, trudging down the staircase with heavy feet. Butch waited till he was gone before putting his gun back into its holster, as if he expected the boy to return any time. Silently, he removed his gun belt and placed it on a small side table. Sinking down in Frank's chair slowly, he let out a deep sigh, resting his head back as he waited for Ray's arrival. Frank was going to need a bucket of cold water to rise that old crook from his liquor induced sleep. Feeling his wet shirt cling uncomfortably to his skin, Butch shifted in the hard chair, his back protesting lightly against the movement. He had dozed off lightly while listening to Eleanor's calm breathing, when Ray's heavy footsteps stirred him from his sleep. The man entered the bedroom moments later.
"When did ye get here?" Ray asked gruffly, too loud for Butch's liking, and the latter hushed him angrily, nodding at the sleeping girl. Ray seemed uninterested in following his leader's gaze, as if he tried to ignore the woman's presence completely.
"Keep yer voice down." Butch warned him as he pulled himself out of the chair. "We'll talk in the other room." Leading the way, Ray followed him into the adjoining room. Just as colourful, and obviously belonging to Rosa as well. Functioning as sitting room and office. Her books and curiosities scattered around on various cabinets and shelves. But she herself had other places to be tonight.
"Ye got something to say, say it." Ray grumbled, watching Butch pace through the room restlessly, until he came to a contemplating halt by the window. "It's late, Butch. We aint all crazy enough to go out ridin' in the dead of night."
"There's five men following us." Butch stated calmly. "Ah saw them. On the trail here."
Ray blinked, staring at his leader impassively. "Rangers can't find this place. Ye've seen ghosts." But Butch shook his head.
"No Rangers." He confirmed. "It's them bowler hats ah seen at the girl's ranch. Railroad men. With Evans as their guide."
"Evans?" Ray chuckled bitterly. "How the hell is he still ridin'? Didn't ye say ye made it unable for him to ride anywhere with anyone?"
Butch said nothing, and turned to face Ray, leaning his back against the mudstone wall. "Well, ah did mah best. But ah guess that old fool is tougher than he looks." He chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. "It don't matter one way or the other. It'll be another half a day before they get here. We'll be long gone when they arrive. Ah'll let Rosa know about it. She can delay them, give us some time."
"Ah say we leave right now." Ray suggested, obviously itching to make his departure. "And get the hell out of here. Get some miles between us and those agents. If they're what hunts us, we best get goin' They don't have the same reservations as them Rangers and ye know it."
Butch shook his head, staring down at his boots. "Nah, we're gonna give that girl a few more hours of sleep." He spoke calmly. "Ah owe her that."
"Ye don't owe her nuthin'." Ray fired back, watching his leader shift his weight, getting uncomfortable with the subject already. "Ah say we leave her here. Like ah said before. She's better off with them whores anyway."
Butch shrugged. "Maybe." He mumbled, fumbling with his stained cuffs. "But we aint gonna do no such thing."
Ray let out a mocking huff. "And why the hell not?!"
"Because ah promised her ah wouldn't." Butch said, looking up at him calmly, tiredly. "Ye go and tell the boys we're leaving at dawn. Have them bring supplies, but nothing heavy. We'll be travelling light." He straightened his back, stretching it painfully. "Now get out."
Ray didn't move, and stared at his leader angrily. "She's gonna slow us down. If those agents are here, then God knows where them Rangers are heading. We might be walkin straight into their arms if we cross that border again." Butch said nothing, and took to rummaging through a cabinet until he found a bottle of tequila. "Butch, they tried te hang me once and they failed, but ah aint too curious te find out if they'll succeed the second time."
Plopping the cork, Butch took a deep swig from the bottle, and made a face at the unkind taste to his tongue. "Ah don't care about yer hangin' Ray" He stated menacingly. "They can make ye swing next to that lawman in the desert for all ah care. Ah won't shed a tear over yer sorry ass. But ah won't be able te live with mahself if those bastards get their hands on that girl. Ah dragged her here.. and ahm gonna finish what ah started." He gazed at his henchman, a clear warning in his blue eyes.
"All they want is te get her home te her mama!" Ray protested. "It'll be yer head on a silver platter if they find her, with you at her side!"
"They aint lookin' fer a tearful reunion between her and her mother. Ah know they don't." Butch shot back. "She's better off with us fer now."
"Right." Ray sneered. "Ah didn't know this whole thing was some personal mission for ye te convince yer little rancher's girl ye aint the big bad wolf."
Butch chuckled bitterly, taking another deep swig. "Ah think she's got me pretty well figured."
"Saving her life won't change a thing about what we are." Ray said. "Ah had a wife once.." Butch rolled his eyes, shrugging off his waistcoat and throwing it over a chair, as the alcohol was heating up his body. "She wanted me to become a farmer. Aint no life fer me. Getting' up at the ass crack of dawn, ploughing all day. Ah spend two years tryin' to make that damn broad happy."
"Are ye done?" Butch said, staring at the older man with raised eyebrows, completely uninterested. Ray stared at him for a moment. "yea, ahm done." He grumbled. "Ah'll go and inform the men." Butch followed him out of the room with his blue eyes, dulled by the alcohol, and waited till the older man was at the bottom of the creaking staircase before making his way back to the hard chair he had previously occupied.
He shuffled through the bedroom with tired feet, and placed the chair at the foot end next to the bed. He plopped down in it ungracefully. He had been riding all night, a hard chair wouldn't make his behind any more sore than it already was. He concentrated on the dull throb in the small of his back, numbed by the alcohol, but he was going to hear from it again in the morning. Along with a hangover. Where was Skinny with that bitter ratbag shit he called coffee when you needed him? He took another swig from the bottle, already half way through. He didn't want to feel another single thing. Be it physical or emotional.
It didn't take long before the girl in the bed started stirring, and slowly turned over to face him, her eyes dull but open, red shot and puffy like she had been crying. He gazed back at her impassively, remembering Frank's words about her distress. And that she hadn't felt that good. Well, neither did he. She blinked, as if she hardly believed the figure she was staring at, and pulled herself into a sitting position slowly. For a while nothing was said, and she rubbed her arm nervously, feeling naked under his stare. Sensing her uneasiness, he averted his gaze, his eyes falling on the book on the repaired nightstand beside her bed.
"What are ye readin'" He asked.
She looked at the book, confused at his question. "Ehm.. David Copperfield. You heard of it?"
He chuckled. "Do I look like a literate man te you?"
She bit her bottom lip in uncertainty. "I do not have the faintest idea what literate men look like." She mumbled.
"Like Barret." Butch answered. "Usually a little cleaner."
She couldn't help but smile at that, and looked away, her hands fumbling with the old patched blanket that covered her. "Rosa gave it to me." She stated, not sure if it was the right thing to say at this moment. He said nothing in return, and gazed at her calmly, tiredly. "She said it would help me escape from reality whenever I want to." He tilted his head at her, but still refrained from saying anything. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I owe you an apology." She continued, looking up at him. He raised his eyebrows in slight mocking sort of surprise. "I.. it wasn't my place to.. criticize your.. habits."
He let out a dry chuckle. "Habits? Yer makin' it sound worse than it is."
She sighed, annoyed with herself, and looked away. "Well, I don't know what else to call it." she shrugged. "But it doesn't matter. That's your business. And I.. I shouldn't have.. thrown it back into your face like I did."
"Alright." He said.
She looked up, confused. "Alright what?"
"Apology accepted." He explained, giving her a lopsided smile.
She was silent for a moment, but then nodded. "Thank you. In case you're wondering.. Rosa is downstairs in the kitchen with White Feather. She'll spend the night there." He said nothing, and closed his eyes for moment as he let out a slightly annoyed sigh, but his tired smile never left his face. "Well just.. in case you were looking for her." She continued shyly.
"Ahm not." He stated calmly. "Ahm fine where ah ahm. Unless ye want me out cause ah smell like a wet dog."
She shook her head quickly. "No, I didn't mean to imply that at all. You.. you smell fine." She mentally kicked herself for her clumsy statement, but he just grinned wickedly. "Why would you smell like a wet dog?" she asked, sincerely puzzled.
"Because I'm wet.." He stated dryly. "I'd take it all off if ah had a room te myself, but ah don't think ah'll find one at this hour, and with this weather. No one's out so.." He shifted in his chair, and she could hear the wet material of his clothing make squeaky sounds on the polished wood. "Ah thought ah'd sit with ye for a while, dry up a bit." He leaned back slowly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his drenched garments.
"You're going to get sick this way." She said softly. He returned her worried look with a sly grin, and stretched his stiff back, his arms above his head. His spine cracking uncomfortably, reaching beyond his bones' limits. She flinched at the painful sounds of his body, until he slumped in his chair again, relaxing every muscle. "Ah don't really mind bein' sick with ye around. Ye get all fussy and worried over me, ah prefer that over yer hissy fits." He teased her, gazing at her lazily. "Yer much nicer te me when ahm sick." Without taking off his boots, he heaved up his legs and placed them on the bed, causing the whole iron frame to rattle. He let out a relieved sigh. "Think ah'll go and get sick again."
She gazed at his snake leather boots on top of the colourful covers. His trousers soaked through, and clinging to his skin. Outside, the rain intensified, and she shivered lightly when a cool breeze crawled through the opened window. He didn't react to it, although he must have felt it when the wind hit his back, playing with the long greying strands of his hair.
"Ah guess ah owe ye an apology too." He started, gazing at her calmly. She didn't look up to meet his eyes, but stared at her hands folded in her lap instead. "Said some things ah didn't mean." He continued, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Guess that blow to mah head made mah brain swell up."
"It's quite alright." She said quickly. "I was just.. "
"That whole thing with Jed wasn't yer fault." He cut her off. "Ah didn't even know that idiot was stayin' here. Ah thought Rosa forbid him te come back.. Aint the first time he caused trouble."
"It's not your fault either." She argued gently.
"Ah don't know about that." He shook his head. "Ah aint meant te be the one te protect ye. Ahm meant te be the one ye fear.. Ah think it's somethin' like that." He looked around the room, trying to find a way to explain himself. "If there's one thing those damn injuns taught me is that we all have a role te play. And if ye try te play another one.. " He shrugged. "It won't work."
She gazed at him. "Well, I'm still alive. So there must be something you're doing right."
He let out a breathy chuckle. "Yea, I might be yer spirit dog after all, huh? Yer own wet spirit mutt." Setting one foot against the edge of the bed, he let the chair dangle on its hind legs, rocking back and forth dangerously. A flash of lightning crept through the window, illuminating the bedroom for a split second. The low burning candle on the nightstand, flickered in the rush of wind that announced the arrival of another autumn storm. He studied her, still playing with his chair, and chuckled softly when she jumped at the sound of the rolling thunder.
"Ah told ye before." His voice averted her attention away from the window. "Frank's wailing is rubbin' off on ye. Now yer suddenly scared of thunderstorms?"
"I've always felt nervous in this kind of weather." She confessed, feeling herself blush. "I just always did a modestly successful job at hiding it."
"Ye aint doin' much of a successful job at it now." He continued, amused greatly by her fidgety behaviour. She ignored his taunting, and braced herself for another clap when another flash of lightning ripped through the sky. He watched her grip the blankets tightly and squeeze her eyes shut when the rolling thunder caused the wooden doors on the balconies to rattle in their hinges. "Calm down." His voice had gone softer.
"I can't." she protested, giving him a sharp, accusing look. One he answered with a small, teasing smile, her hissy attitude simply amusing him. "Just don't leave. I don't care if you sit there laughing, just promise you stay here." He gazed at her impassively for a while, shifting slightly in his chair.
"Ah can't make the rain stop, Sharky.." He whispered, almost apologetically.
"I know that." She spoke quietly, swallowing away her embarrassment as much as she could. "I just don't want to be alone right now." He let his chair fall back on all four of its legs, and removed his feet from the bed. He stretched again, lazily, like a big cat.
"Ah wasn't planning on goin' anywhere." He said, slumping down in his chair, relaxing his body. He yawned, and shook his head to get rid of the drowsiness the warm room was giving him. "Might fall asleep on ye though."
"Oh, no. Please don't." she spoke quickly, panicking slightly. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, and winced when he hurt his broken nose, and the swollen area around his right eye. He ignored her for a while, too occupied with stirring himself awake. Sleeping in this chair wasn't a good idea anyway. Not with his mangled spine. He sat up, his elbows on his knees, to give his back a break from the wooden bars it had been leaning against. Now the flashes and claps of thunder had become more frequent, she looked perfectly miserable, and he sighed in slight annoyance.
"Alright." He started gruffly. "Ye want te behave like a damn child, ah'll treat ye like one and tell ye a story. How about that?" His offer, anything but sympathetic, made her huff indignantly at first. Getting no audible reaction from her, he simply continued. "ye want te know how ah got those scars? On mah back?"
TBC…. Soon.. real soon.
Sorry for the cliff-hanger, guys. This chapter was originally meant to be much longer, but it got too big for me to upload it in one file. So I had to split it in two. The next chapter is almost finished. So stay tuned for Butch's scar story.
