So sorry for the long wait, guys. Enjoy.
Chapter 35
When morning arrived, the damage the fire had caused to the town of Standing Faith became clear. Most of its buildings were smouldering piles of blackened wood. Thankfully, there had been no victims. Though the majority of the village's population was now left homeless and had lost everything, as little as it may have been, to the fire.
The sheriff's office had remained unscathed, and on its porch a bitter looking Henry Elton sat in one of the rocking chairs, overlooking the town's desolate people trying to save what was left of their belongings among the remains of their homes. His leg rested on another chair, bandaged and set for it had been broken under the weight of his late mount. He looked up when three riders entered the town, and halted in front of the sheriff's porch.
"Ah." He remarked haughtily. "Our vigilante Dan Reid arrives just after the action. Something all that know him have grown very accustomed too over the course of the years. "
The Ranger dismounted slowly, looking quite shocked by the state he found the usual so lively town in, and ignored the agent's biting words. "What happened here? Did you do this?"
Elton rolled his eyes. "Why in God's name would I commence to burn down an entire town, Reid?! What good would that do?" Dan said nothing, still gazing at the pile of ash that used to be Standing Faith. "Where are your other Rangers?"
"We decided to split up a few miles back. Figure that's probably what Cavendish did with his gang too." Dan replied, finally turning to look at the man he hated with every fibre in his body, his eyes resting on Elton's wounded leg. "That looks painful."
"Yes, apart from your career it must be the most tragic thing you ever looked at." Elton sneered, refusing the lawman the courtesy of eye contact. "Keep your observations to yourself, mister Texas Ranger. I can do without your rodeo clown sympathies."
Dan spat in the dirt, a few inches from the porch. "We found the La Silva fort burned to the ground a few days ago. Abandoned. And now we ride into this town, finding it looking just about the same." He continued, receiving no reaction from Elton. "I know you and Evans tried to mislead me the last time we saw eachother. We figured it out soon enough. I aint about to let you ride by yourself anymore, Henry. You're making God knows how many victims in your search for that bounty you promised to those boys of yours."
"I had nothing to do with this mess." Elton objected half-heartedly, his disinterest showing. "I arrived when it was already ablaze. And then that good for nothing idiot of a sheriff shot my horse right from under me, breaking my leg in the process." He shifted in his hard chair, trying to find a more agreeable position. "So if you wish to follow me around from now on I suggest you start lending your heroic aid to the renovation of the local hotel. For that's where you'll be staying if you insist on breathing in my neck."
"Trust me, Henry. There's nothing that seems less appealing to me than bein' forced to stick around your person." Dan shot back. Elton didn't reply anymore, his eyes had fallen upon a chestnut mare calmly making her way through the chaotic main street. Saddled, and her long reins dragging behind her, she walked by burning buildings and frantic villagers like she knew these sort of scenes by heart, and the panic didn't affect her like it would affect many a other horse.
"How extensive is your knowledge on horses, Reid?" Elton asked, still following the mare with his gaze.
The Ranger rubbed his tired eyes. He had been riding hard all night and was in no mood to play along with Elton's little mind games. "Extensive enough, I suppose." He answered, stifling a yawn. "Why?"
"Wouldn't you say horses are usually afraid of anything even remotely carrying the scent of fire?" Elton continued. Now wondering where the man was going with his questions, Dan followed his gaze to the calm horse making her way over to the chapel, where the reverend stood on his porch with his hand extended, softly whistling to the animal. When the mare reached the little staircase leading up to the porch, she halted, and allowed the man of God to gently wind his fingers around her faded bridle. "Strikes you as odd, Reid?" Elton asked calmly.
Although witness to the, indeed, odd scene unfolding in front of him, Dan decided not to think too much of a man calling a horse and the horse, in turn, obeying. "Not particularly, no." He mumbled. "Never seen a priest with a talent in handlin' horses, but other than that." They watched the reverend gently caress the ageing mare's long muzzle, talking to her in hushed tones. "The man lost his horse and found her again. Good for him."
Elton didn't reply anymore, and followed the reverend and the horse with his gaze as they made their way to the back of the chapel, out of sight. "You want the girl, Dan?" he asked eventually, regaining the Ranger's attention. "I suggest you mount up and follow those two out of town." Finally, Dan followed the agent's keen gaze, all the way up the mountain ridge, where the reverend, atop the mare, lead her up the stream, disappearing among the trees. "Good reverend Brady rode with Cavendish for years before the angels started whispering in his ear." The ranger remained unmoving, still unsure of the agent's exact intentions. "Fortunately for him, we still live in a country where you can buy your freedom with a few prayers and bible recitals, proving they sound.. genuine enough."
Dan shifted where he stood. "You think he's going to Cavendish? With that old nag?"
"Cavendish' old nag, mister Reid." Elton corrected him calmly. "Old habits die hard. Same as old horses. I never took Cavendish for a sentimental man, but he always seemed to be quite attached to that mare. After all, she used to belong to the Comanche tribe, I believe. She's unmarked. And I'm sure, after all your excursions into Indian territory to get to know the savages, you picked up a thing or two about them not wanting any branded animals."
Still struggling to follow the agent's confusing conclusions, the Ranger kept his gaze on the mountain ridge. The agent gave him his time to let the information settle in, and eventually, he was rewarded as the Ranger turned to his man and ordered him to mount up. A light, mischievous smile appeared around Elton's thin lips. His well-trimmed, curly moustache arched up in satisfaction at the result of his smooth talking.
"We're goin' up to see where Brady's going." Dan explained, mounting his own horse. He waited a moment, gazing at the agent's wounded leg. "Think it's best ye stay here."
Elton shot him an unamused look. "Like I said before, Ranger. I can do without your pitiful sympathies. All I need from you is Cavendish. Preferably alive. And the girl, of course."
With that, the two Rangers took off, heading in the direction of the trapper's cabin of Pine's Creek. Following the rocky trail up the hill.
/
They were losing the light fast. In this time of year, the sun didn't grace them with her rays for a very long time. And when the end of the afternoon arrived, the fading light already announced that nightfall wasn't far behind. The hunt for rabbits had been unsuccessful. Because, like Butch had said, he never expected the two boys to actually catch something. Most rabbits hid deep inside their dens during the height of winter, and rarely came out. The only thing Skinny had managed to kill was a little, lost, wild turkey. With hardly any meat on its bones. It wouldn't feed the entire gang. And so the men agreed on letting the two youngest eat it, they had been the ones productive enough to go hunt for it in the first place.
Eleanor felt her stomach growl unpleasantly as she was denied food for more than a day. Frank had tried to share his catch with her, but she had refused. She didn't want a special treatment anymore. For now, this gang was her family, and she would do her best to prove to Butch she earned her stripes by now.
Sitting outside on her quiet bench, trying to still the hunger by concentrating on the icy winds playing with her long hair, she didn't notice Barret sitting down next to her. "Drink this." His voice stirred her awake, and he handed her a steaming cup of a white substance. "It'll trick your stomach into thinking there's something in it." He explained.
She sniffed it. Milk. Condensed milk from a can that the doctor probably found in one of the cupboards above the ancient stove inside the cabin. She took a careful sip, tasting the greasy sweetness of it, and made a face. This was usually used for cooking, preparing sauces, or feeding underfed infants. "We can't live on this." She argued softly, taking another sip. "Butch won't get better on this."
The doctor sat down next to her, letting out a deep sigh. "It's too rich for his stomach anyway." He said. "He'd throw it all out before the end of day."
Thinking over his words, she took another sip, feeling slightly sick herself. But that was hunger, and not the richness of the drink. She felt it sink into the pit of her stomach, like she had swallowed a brick. "Well, that may be. But if he doesn't eat.. he'll die. Just like the rest of us." Her words didn't sound very strong. She was too tired to really argue.
Barret took a moment to answer. Like he was considering if she was worthy of the next piece of information or not. "I was in the trenches with him in 62." He spoke softly. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He didn't meet her gaze, and held his fixed on the treeline surrounding the cabin. "Our supply routes were cut off. Nothing reached the men for days. I had to watch them wither away to nothing, while considering the outcome I might become a victim myself. But he.." Now he looked at her, studying her gaze. "I don't think I ever heard him complain about hunger. I don't think I ever noticed him losing weight. Fact, I don't remember him changing in any way." She held his gaze, her mouth slightly opening and closing like she wanted to say something but hadn't decided on the words yet.
"What.. are you saying?" she asked then, her voice small, scared of the surgeon's observations.
"I don't know." He told her, shrugging lightly. She lost his gaze as he looked back at the treeline. "I didn't know then. I don't know now." He looked up at the grey sky, squinting his eyes against the tiny snow drops that twirled down from the tree branches. "And maybe I don't want to know. Maybe some things aren't meant to be understood. They just.. are."
She followed his gaze up for a moment, but found herself unable to shake off what he had just told her. "I don't believe that." She stated sharply. "He might have had a secret supply of crackers, I don't know. My father told me that the men higher in rank always seemed to have plenty to eat. And since Butch was a captain, I'm sure he had something.. somewhere."
Barret said nothing, and simply nodded absentmindedly.
Deciding on changing the subject, she then turned to him with a smile. "He's going to teach me how to shoot." She grinned excitingly. "It might come in handy, you know.. so he doesn't have to come to my rescue all the time." He said nothing, his expression unreadable. Feeling ignored, she huffed softly. "Look, I don't deny Butch has.. surprised me with certain things too but.. what you're implying.. I don't even know what you're implying. You think he's not.. human? Is that it? I'm too old to believe in ghost stories, mister Barret. They don't scare me no more. I find reality alone to be much more scary than any story I've ever heard." When another silent reply followed, she had enough, and got up from her seat. "I cannot weapon myself against ghosts." She said sharply. "But I can learn how to weapon myself against humans. And they form the biggest threat as about now." With that last message, she left him, and returned to the front of the cabin to lean her back against the wooden frame. She waited there for a moment. Catching her breath like she had just ran a mile. She had been barely been alone for the past days, and it felt foreign to have no one around her, watching her every step. Feeling confused, and angry without knowing why, she fought back tears. She must have badly stifled a sob, for the cabin door was opened and Frank stepped outside.
"Ye alright, miss Elly? Why yer cryin?"
"I'm not crying." She lied, keeping her eyes locked on her boots. "My nose is runny because of the cold." Frank didn't seem convinced, but he wasn't one to start an argument, so he remained quiet. "I need your gun." She decided, looking up at him with red, puffy eyes. He frowned in confusion.
"whut for?"
She held up the empty cup. The milk had grown cold, and she had tossed the last remaining bits in the snow. Frank stared at the mug like a deer in head lights. Somehow expecting it to be well deserving of a bullet for doing God knows what.
"Whut.. did it do?"
She burst out in chuckles, not able to keep a straight face in the light of Frank's naïve banter. "Nothing, you fool!" she giggled. "I just want to practise my firing skills. Butch said he would teach me. But if I'm to wait for him, I'll be dead in the ground before you know it." Frank didn't seem so sure about her explanation, and he placed a protective hand over his weapon.
"He said ye needed te shoot at cups?" He asked. "He made me shoot at travellers and such when teachin' me how te shoot. Like stage coaches and the like. Ah hads te hit the driver and git the whole thang to a standstill so he could rob it." she gave him a horrified look, and he instantly regretted his story. "Ah mean.. they probably deserved it.. "He tried. "That's whut ye git for.. travellin'.."
"Alright, stop. I get it." she rubbed her tired eyes. "He didn't tell me how he was planning on teaching me how to do it. Like I said.. if I have to wait for him to start this.. I want to do this myself, Frank. But I need a gun." She gazed at him pleadingly, but he still looked unsure about the whole idea. She faked her disappointment, and scoffed at his reluctance, pushing back. "What, you want me to get killed in the next gun fight? You know it's coming. Rangers might be coming up here soon. And then what? Are you going to protect me?" He looked terrified about the idea of being responsible for her safety. "You can't be everywhere at once, and neither can Butch. Right? Right?"
"Ah.. ah's suppose so." He said, tripping over his own tongue.
"Then give me your gun." She smiled, holding up the cup. "And teach me how to put a hole in this thing."
Franks eyes went from the cup to the girl's determined grin, and back again. He sighed. Defeated. "Ah only know ye gotta keep yer hands real still." He mumbled, handing her his revolver with obvious reluctance. "And ye gotta aim a little higher than whut ye want te hit." He watched her position the metal cup on a tree trunk about fifteen feet away from the cabin, and return to his side. She cocked the gun in a clumsy matter, and aimed it at her self-proclaimed target. Closing one eye, she tried to steady her hand, but still found it trembling slightly from cold and exposure. She fired, making herself jump at the sound. Birds scattered from the trees, crowing in panic. When silence returned, and the smoke cleared away to reveal the cup unharmed and still sitting on the same spot as she put it, the door of the cabin flew open and Barret, Ray, Skinny and Jesus hurried out with their weapons drawn.
"The hell is goin' on?!" Ray barked angrily, fishing the smouldering gun from the girl's hand. "Are ye outta ya damn mind, gurl?! Don't ye be causin' any ruckus in this place! Who knows who can hear us down there in that damn village?!" He chucked the gun into the snow, making Frank dug for it immediately.
"I'm.. I'm sorry!" She tripped over her own words as Ray backed her into the walls of the cabin, his deep set eyes spitting fire. "I didn't mean to.."
"That's enough, Ray." Barret's gruff voice caused the man to peer over his shoulder. "Let her be." It was all the protection the army surgeon was willing to give her, for he walked away as soon as he and Ray had made eye contact. But it was enough for now, and Ray backed away from her, huffing in anger. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain her bearings, and shivered with her back against the wooden structure. As Frank came to her side to offer her the little bit of comfort he could give, she tried to smile at him. It was Skinny's voice that made them both jump.
"We got visitors!"
