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Chapter 34
She woke to the sound of Skinny and Frank having a snowball fight outside the cabin. The occasional stray snowball that hit the dirtied windows caused the whole rickety cabin to shake, but it didn't seem to bother the two young outlaws having the time of their lives. Inside, it was still comfortably warm, and their leader still enjoyed his much needed rest in the giant bed on the other end of the room. The tranquillity of the moment was almost unreal, and for a second she thought she was dreaming. The silence and peace of this frisk, winter morning made her reflect on times lost long ago. Back home around Christmas time. When the first snow had fallen, turning the whole world white. She would play in the snow with her little dog and her father. And sometimes, on those rare occasions, her mother joined in as well. Feeling much better than yesterday, though her head heavy from the hangover that usually followed after a night of drinking heavily, she decided to get up and see if she could be of any use to anyone.
No one but her and a sleeping Butch seemed to be inside the cabin for now. He had rolled onto his back, his wounded arm cradled to his chest protectively. Figuring he wouldn't want her to disturb his rest, she decided to just let him be. She picked up the horse blanket and threw it around her shoulders before making her way outside, and was immediately met by a snowfall landing square in her face.
"Skinny, look whut ye did!" She heard Frank bark at the timid young man. "Are ye okay, miss Eleanor?!" Laughing, she brushed the snow from her face and plucked the flakes out of her collar, feeling a shiver creep up her spine as some of it found a way into her shirt.
"Ahm mighty sorry, miss." Skinny apologized, looking at her like he expected her to show him every corner of the forest after his accident. "Ah was..Ah was aimin' fer Frank."
Still chuckling, she shook her head. "It's fine. I'm not made of sugar." She gave the two young men a reassuring smile, breathing in the clean air, happy to be outside and noticing the other gang members were missing. "Where's everybody?"
Pelting a last snowball loaded with pebbles into Skinny's face, Frank trotted his way over to her, using her close presence as a shield. "Ah thinks they've gone out scoutin'. We ain't really safe out ere' and all and ah knows Ray was gettin' nervous about bein' ere fer so long." He explained. "Thinks they've gone down te the town, see whut's goin' on and who's there te help. Might be Rangers." He gave her a worried look. "That fire was pretty big. Could be seen fer miles."
She listened, and let out a deep sigh, wondering if Butch had intended on burning down that entire village. She couldn't find any possible motives for him to do such a thing, but he had showed her before he didn't necessarily need a motive to do something. "How's.. how's Butch?"
Frank was quiet for a moment, gnawing on his bottom lip as he tried to figure out what to say to the worried young woman beside him. "Barret says te just let him sleep it off." He said. "Ah aint sure whut he's supposed te sleep off but.. He sure is sleepin' an awful lot."
Skinny had decided to cease his attempts at hitting Frank without hitting Eleanor, and made his way over to them to join the conversation. "Barret also said Butch needs te drink a lot o' water." He stated matter of factly, nodding in agreement to himself, and obviously proud for remembering the army surgeon's instructions. "A real awful lot. Or tea. Not coffee."
"Or whiskey." Eleanor filled in, giving them both a small smile. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Like Barret would say.. he's had worse, right?" Frank shrugged a little, and suddenly refused to meet her gaze.
"Ah thinks te thin' where he pukes up his insides all night is worse." Skinny said, wringing his hands together nervously. "He always keeps me up when he does that."
She swallowed thickly, remembering how sick Butch was when he first arrived at her ranch, and how long it had taken him to feel the least bits of better. She could only hope he wouldn't develop the same thing right now. Looking for a way to change the subject, her eyes fell on the two horses that were unknown to the gang's own animals. The brown horse she had taken from the stable last night, and a black horse with white socks and a white stripe on its face she didn't recognize. "So who's that?" she pointed at the black horse, and Frank followed her gaze.
"Ray killed one of them mercenaries that was chasin' him and Skinny." He explained. "That's his horse."
"Ah has gone and named it Socks." Skinny grinned proudly. "Cuz he's got four white feet and all."
"It aint very original." Frank complained. "Ah voted for Benjamin. But there's only two of us so the election didn't really solve nuthin'"
"Jesus wanted to eat him." Skinny told her, still shocked about the whole idea. "Ah said te him he can go eat his own pair of socks if he wants te eat Socks so badly."
She let out a chuckle, feeling much better to be among the light-hearted youngsters again. "Well, what will we name the brown one?" She said. "He needs a name too. We can call him Benjamin." Frank's face lit up at her suggestion, and Skinny seemed to share in his enthusiasm. Their banter distracted her from the seriousness of the situation, and she noticed with fondness how Frank's horse Bobby was among the two others, he had found his way home without her. Butch's horse however, was still missing.
"Did Annabel come home yet?" she asked.
Skinny shook his head, and gave Frank a sympathetic look, knowing how much his friend liked his leader's mount. "We're awful worried about er. She aint that young anymore." The bearded young man explained. "She usually follows Butch around anywhere. It's strange she hasn't come up yet."
She had no idea what had happened to the mare. She didn't know where Butch had put her before going into the opium den himself. They hadn't had a chance to retrieve her on their way out, and she wondered if anyone would recognize her as his horse. To those who did not know her, she seemed like a regular old mare. Calm and obedient. "I'm sure she will find her way back to him." she tried to make the two young men feel better. "She's probably stealing apples from a child somewhere." They both started laughing.
As the morning progressed, the sun broke through, her rays not warm enough to do some significant melting, but she was nevertheless welcomed by the young outlaws continuing their playing in the snow while the girl explored the cabin's near surroundings. It lay hidden in the middle of a thick group of pine trees, on top of a steep hill with a stream that ran down on the other side, all the way to the little town. Enjoying the quiet, she sat on a wooden bench behind the small cabin and listened to the birds singing their songs and drying their feathers in the sun. The others returned when the sun was at her highest point. And they returned bearing stolen goods to last them a few more days while their leader recovered.
It was Barret who visited her in her quiet spot, and handed her a steaming mug of tea, carrying one for himself as well. "You mind?" He asked, gesturing toward the bench. She blinked in surprise at his request, but quickly scooted over to give him room.
"Not at all." She answered politely.
He sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaned his back against the wall. He enjoyed peace and quiet as well, she reminded herself. And this was probably his spot before she made her entrance into the gang. Side by side, they sat there, gazing out over the tree tops in the distance and sipping their tea. Like a rancher and his wife pondering on how lucky they were.
"How's Butch?" she asked finally, staring into her cup.
Barret took a moment to answer, but then looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "Why don't you go ask him yourself? It really has no use bothering me about it every time you get me alone." He complained. She bit her bottom lip in slight embarrassment. "I don't hold records on how the man is functioning you know."
"It's just.. you're the doctor and I thought.."
"Army surgeon." He corrected her with a sigh. "Quite the difference." He then commenced to let his gaze rest on the tree tops swaying in the cold November breeze. She watched him close his eyes in quiet contemplation.
"I'm sorry." She apologized after a while, playing with the dents in her tin cup. The smooth metal worn with age. "I suppose I'm nervous to ask him myself. He's not exactly happy with me right now." Barret said nothing, and took another sip of his tea. "I'm the reason he got shot in the first place."
"I don't think shooting at Butch Cavendish is the best thing for you to do right now.." He mumbled, his disinterest showing.
"I didn't shoot him." she argued. "I came between him and someone he wanted to shoot himself. A child." The army surgeon said nothing, and his expression didn't change, so she continued. "I couldn't let him kill the child. And that child ended up shooting him instead. This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't intervened." His silence was starting to make her nervous. "What would you have done?" she had asked the reverend the same question, receiving a pretty complicated answer as well.
"Probably less than I should." Barret mumbled, downing the rest of his tea. "I've seen that man take bullets to the stomach and live to tell the tale to any woman willing to listen to his rambling." He let out a deep sigh. "I've seen him wrapped in nightmares so violent you start wondering what the hell happened to him when he was a kid himself." She frowned at his story. "I've seen him puke blood until his eyes were red shot and watery from the bile and exhaustion." Horrified, she stared at him. "I don't think a bullet to his shoulder will do him." Barret wrapped up his story, giving her a tired look. "I don't think you'll be the death of him neither, although he might make you feel that way sometimes." His intellect showing, she averted her eyes shyly. "Drink your tea while it's hot, and get in there to ask him how he's doing. Don't be scared of him now. He's probably the least of your concerns right now, and I got a feeling he told you the same damn thing."
She thought about his words for a while, gazing ahead of her, mimicking his position that way. The sun had started to set, and smoke still rose from the smouldering town of Standing Faith. She listened to the melting snow drip from the tree branches, the surrounding forests recovering slowly from the heavy storm. Their comfortable silence returned, and she finished her tea before it had a chance to turn cold. Then she got up, and moved past him without saying a word, feeling his eyes follow her to the front of the cabin.
By now, Skinny and Frank had ceased their play, and had gone inside to warm up. The cabin smelled like Skinny's fresh coffee, and when she entered she was met by the cosy scene taking place. Butch was awake, leaning against several pillows propped up against the headboard of the old bed. In his lap a steaming mug of coffee, despite Barret telling him not to drink anything that might upset his stomach. Frank sat beside him, his hands wrapped around his own cup. And Skinny had decided to sit himself down in Eleanor's chair by the fire. They all looked up when she entered, but only Frank smiled in recognition.
"Look who's up!" He announced happily. "He even said he's hungry so Skinny's goin' out for rabbits in a bit. When the sun's completely gone and all of them bunnies are up and about."
"Frank, shut yer trap." Butch growled, leaning his head back tiredly. "Last than' ah need right now is yer whiny mouth rattlin' on about bunnies."
Mindful of his leader's still frail state, Frank lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "He got a bit of a headache though." He told Eleanor like Butch wasn't even there. "Jack said e' would have after drinkin' so much with so little blood. Don't do any good for ya." He shook his head sadly.
"Ahm right ere, Frank." Butch complained, his eyes closed. "Ye don't shut yer big mouth ahm gonna shut it up fer ya." At that comment, Frank decided to get up from the bed and make his way over to the shy young woman still standing by the doorway.
"Makes him awfully cranky." He whispered to her, grinning like a naughty school boy. She tried to smile back at him, but found herself unable to do so for her feelings of worry overpowered any other. As Frank left, Skinny followed, leaving the girl and the outlaw leader alone. Butch ignored her, resting against his pillows in an attempt to regain his shaken composure. He was dizzy, and his shoulder throbbed painfully, a pain he felt in the tips of his fingers, making it quite unable for him to move his left arm. He felt the bed sink in where Frank had been sitting, indicating the young woman had sat down next to him. But to his joy, she refrained from speaking as of yet, granting him a few more moments of welcome silence. He could feel her look at him from she sat, study him as if he were a rare creature. No doubt she was studying the many scars on his chest. Finally shirtless and in brought daylight they were all visible.
"Ye got a few o' those yerself now, Sharky." He whispered in a hoarse voice. "Few stories te tell. Ah told ye ye'd get them sooner er later." Curious to her reaction, he opened one eye to peer at her. But she somehow remained impassive, and only shifted where she sat to show her state of nervousness at being there. Fed up with her silence, he handed her his cup of coffee. "Ye drink it." He mumbled, leaning back when she took it from him. "Mah gut don't agree with it right now." She didn't drink it right away. Its strong smell making her slightly nauseous.
"Shall I make you some tea instead?" she offered quietly. He shook his head, making a face. "You're not actually hungry are you?" she asked.
"Don't want nuthin' anywhere near mah stomach right now." He told her. "Just gave those two morons sumthin' useful te do and leave me be." She nodded in understanding, and the silence returned to the small cabin. But it didn't feel as uncomfortable as before. She placed the cup of coffee on his nightstand, not feeling much for it herself right now, and leaned back against the footrest of the bed. He nodded off while she gazed at him, his breathing evening out slowly, indicating his state of slumber. There was nothing more she could do for him right now, besides from letting him sleep and heal. She made sure she covers of the bed were up to his chin, before leaving his side. She wondered how long they could stay here before someone would notice the abandoned cabin was occupied, and law enforcers would be notified about it. In need of giving herself a task, she commenced to poke up the fire to keep it roaring.
"Ye know, ah've been thinkin'" his voice startled her, not expecting him to still be up. Still sitting on her knees in front of the fireplace, she turned her head to look at him. "If yer mother is in prison, ah might be able te pull a string er two te get her out of there." She said nothing. "But if it turns out they hanged her already.. ye might be better off movin' somewhere else. Out of Texas. Colorado maybe." She dropped her gaze to her coal covered hands, fighting back tears. "If that don't appeal te ye.. ahm willin' te take ye up to San Francisco. Get ye into a boardin' house er however they call these things ladies of yer breedin' belong in nowadays. Show ye te ocean."
"I don't want to see the ocean." She spoke quietly. "I want to go home."
"Home might not be what it used te be, Eleanor. Home might be gone by tahm we get back. Ye need te start thinkin' about alternatives te home." She felt herself shaking her head stubbornly, refusing to follow his train of thoughts. "Wherever ye decide home's gonna be.. Ah'll take ye there. But ah can't promise ye it's gonna look the way ye want it to."
"I'm not like you." She argued softly. "I have a family. Or had, atleast. Home is where they are."
"The only difference between you and I.." He continued. "Is ah've been givin time. In time.. ye'll see.. home is what ye make of it." she said nothing. "But ye can't stay in this damn gang."
She let out a bitter chuckle and shook her head. "I knew you'd kick me out after this whole thing. I knew you would."
"Can't kick ye out of somethin' ye were never a part of, Sharky." He protested mildly. "Yer taggin' along but ye aint never were one of us. And ye'll never be. Cuz ah'd be spendin' every goddamn hour of every goddamn day tryin' te keep ye safe."
"Not if you would.. teach me how to defend myself." She shot back, feeling slighted in her ability to take care of herself. "Teach me how to shoot. You already taught me how to ride a horse properly." His gruff chuckle made her blush in embarrassment, he didn't take her serious very often. "I mean it. I'm sure Rosa can shoot."
"you bet." His chuckling continued.
"So why don't you teach me?" she looked up at him, but he refused to look at her, and kept his gaze on the wooden ceiling, littered in cobwebs and farm equipment from before the dawn of agriculture. "or am I not worthy enough to be taught by the great Butch Cavendish?" she added mockingly.
"The great Butch Cavendish." He repeated her words with a tired sigh. "Ah suppose ah can show ye a trick er two." His voice sounded strained, like he was suddenly in a world of pain. "But not right now. Right now.. ah have te rest." With that, he turned away from her, indicating their conversation had ended and he wished to be left alone. She wouldn't disturb him now. They would be on the trail soon enough again, and his healing would have to take place in the scarce moments of repose they would have. Left wanting for answers, she decided to get out of the cabin, and see if Frank and Skinny had returned from their bunny trapping yet.
R&R plz
