A/N: PLEASE READ: Hello everyone. I will just like to profusely say how sorry I am for how long it has taken me to return to this fic. I will say, I never forgot about it, it has always kind of haunted me that I let myself get so stuck into a bottomless pit that turned out to be this unforgivable massive writer's block. I never believed that it could happen, but unfortunately, life did happen over the past three years.
Both good and bad things happened, and I needed to cut stress out of my life in order to retain my sanity. There were times I contemplated just erasing everything I had posted because it sitting there reminding me, made me feel like dog-shit. But that wouldn't have been fair to those that liked to go back and re-read my stories and those who were waiting patiently for me to get off my ass. It honestly got to the point where I was so high-strung trying to obtain perfection for this chapter - and story in general - that I would refuse to post anything because of how much time had passed, and felt that anything I submitted was sub-par, so being a coward, never did.
From the bottom of my heart, I am so so sorry for my 3 year absence. I hope you can all forgive me. If not, I completely understand. i just wanted to relate to you what had happened to me. I know I cannot expect a lot, but at least I explained from my perspective what had been going on.
Anyway, this chapter is a big flashback. Sorry, no Norah or older Erron, but they'll come up in the next chapter that is already being worked on.
Chapter 27
Once Upon a Time in the West
Part 9
Truth or Dare
With Aaron supported in Abraham's arms and walking in the direction of Finney's tent, it didn't take long for Aaron's fractured bone to rear its head again. Each step earned a grimace out of the boy, and shortly after, he began to hiss through his teeth. At first, he didn't even realize that the two older men knew each other until Abraham had mentioned where they were headed. Abraham had surprised him when he informed Aaron that he had already met Finney months before the doctor introduced himself in his tent.
"You never did pay any attention to the passengers," the Butterfield employee had chided lightly. It was true; he really hadn't cared about who and what they were hauling. The only thing that concerned Aaron was the Arapaho. On the Smokey Hill Trail, it might as well have been every man for himself regardless if they were supposed to be offering safe passage for both the goods and passengers in the coach.
They approached the white, half hexagon canvas that stood against the backdrop of dark scenery and Aaron let out a sigh. It was also the same tent that Abraham had rushed to drop the girl off, and Aaron was uncertain how to feel about sharing the doctor's attention with her. Upon meeting Mr. Bauchau, her terrible guardian, and knowing that she had been trying to siren him to his doom, Aaron felt incredible resentment towards her and couldn't quash the grudge for her that was taking root no matter how terrible her situation was. Sallie had known what kind of man he was, and still wanted to offer the boy as a sacrificial lamb.
Then again, reconsidering how petrified she was of the man, maybe she had no choice. Still, she should have left the moment she found out what kind of man he was; ran as far away as she could instead of staying.
The boy's eyebrows slanted.
What was wrong with her?
Another disturbing hindsight entered his mind that made him frown with apprehension.
What had he done to her to keep her put?
The boy looked over his shoulder to see the outline of Finney's tent crawl closer into the distance and he grimaced. After what had happened, Aaron wasn't sure if he wanted to know.
Abraham stopped in his tracks and turned his head slightly to look at the back of the child's head out of the corner of his eye. "What's wrong?" the coachman inquired, concerned that it was something he was doing.
Finally, Aaron was able to find his voice since he ran into him, but it still came out like a sniffling murmur. "My… my arm. I fell outta a tree and broke it…"
Against his ear, Aaron could faintly feel the corner of Abraham's mouth frown before it curled up briefly into a faint smile. "Now why'd you go an' do somethin' like that? Chasin' tree rats?"
Despite everything, Aaron smiled at the small joke until his arm shot with pain once again. Abraham grimaced and asked seriously: "Do you need to be let down?"
The young boy nodded even though he didn't want to go back to his lifeless feet just yet; unsure if he had the strength to stand. The old man grabbing him had made his injury hurt even more after the encounter, but now the pulsating discomfort throbbed even more painfully. Carefully, the driver released him, bringing himself down to his tired knees to set the boy on his feet.
Aaron wobbled as soon as his shoes met the flat soil and found himself teetering back and forth. Abraham straightened him by bracing his hands on the sides of the boy's torso, offering a crutch until the youngster got his bearings.
"Can I see?" Abraham asked seriously, sighing at his free arm that had been loosened from the bandage. Aaron nodded and at that same moment, Dr. Finney, threw back the canvas door to exit his tent to see both Abraham and Aaron grimacing at the black, blue and green patterns on the youngster's arm.
"It will heal better if you don't remove it from the sling," Finney frowned, walking over to both. The boy didn't bother to comment, although knew the doctor was right even if the remark somewhat annoyed him. The doctor wasn't as obtuse as the remark made him sound, and it was more of a dry joke than anything. Finney understood that Aaron didn't remove it on purpose, and as gently as he could, did his best to place the broken limb back into the sling.
Abraham turned his attention to the doctor as soon as he fixed the boy, and asked: "She awake?"
The doctor shook his head as the corner of his mouth tugged up with a sad flicker.
The stagecoach employee's eyebrows bridged together. "But she's alright? Just a bruise at the worst?"
"That bruise is not the one I want to talk to you about."
The boy and his guardian picked their chins up at his words and gave Finney similar looks of concern.
Dr. Finney sighed at Black; a morose expression dilated across his features as his eyes slid from Abraham to Aaron, and then back again. The boy understood the look, although had never seen it quite in the same intensity. There was something the doctor needed to share that was not meant for the ears of a child. Aaron had to wonder, given that it was Sallie they were discussing, would it involve Bauchau as well?
The 7-year-old found himself conflicted whether he wanted to know the truth or would much rather have it brushed aside and kept as a Pandora's box away from him by the adults. Despite the secrecy, the two men seemed adamant about securing from him, Aaron wondered if it still meant he needed to confide about what had happened between him and the Gray Man.
The orphan hadn't dared divulged what had happened yet, mostly because he did not want to recant it out loud or even remember it in the silent seclusion of his own thoughts. He wanted to forget. It had been the most prominent reason why he hadn't said anything. Now with the doctor and the driver present, perhaps he should— as a way as offering an explanation to why the girl had a bruise they couldn't share with Aaron. He feared that they would they brush it aside and conclude that it was nothing as Aaron noticed was the worst habits of adults; that it was nothing but a simple bruise that all kids got from playing. Even if he was still sour with her, he didn't want Abraham or Finney to disregard her state altogether. They had to know. The Gray Man had to pay.
Would that mean that he would have to tell them what happened, or could he just hide what he had done to him? Did he really want to hide that from Abraham for the rest of his days and live with it eating at him? Not telling them didn't seem avoidable even if was the most comfortable option at this point.
He wasn't sure and furrowed his brows in hard contemplation. He noticed Abraham took note of his mild confusion and the boy did his best to relax his expression. Right now, maybe it was best to wait, especially with Finney present. It would be hard enough trying to tell Abraham what happened, let alone with the doctor darkening their discussion with his presence.
Aaron faintly heard Abraham instruct him to remain outside as he followed the doctor inside the tent to look at Sallie and his attention diverted back to Finney's addressed unease.
At first, he had no desire to know what was too delicate to share in front of him, but curiosity won against him; as it usually did. Tentatively, Aaron approached the canvas barrier. With a single blue eye poking through the opening, Aaron saw the back of Abraham's coat and the doctor's white shirt hovering over the unconscious form of the girl.
"I noticed this after you left," Finney explained with a grim tone. Through the slit, Aaron could only make out the basic, but recognizable, movements of the doctor's fingers undoing buttons.
With two male bodies in front of the girl on the cot, Aaron raised himself on his toes to try and maneuver around the conjoined wall they created. He never did see what they were looking at on her, but the moment Finney stopped moving his fingers, immediately felt the palpable anger that permeated off both men. Aaron couldn't see their expressions, but by the way their bodies tensed at whatever sight was underneath her clothes, caused rancor to saturate into both of their skins instantly.
Aaron watched as Abraham grasped his hand around the umber-colored handle of his revolver at his hip. He didn't lift it from the holster, but even in the dim amber light of the lantern, the child watched as the man's knuckles turned white the longer his fingers crushed the gun.
The boy shivered at the indignant sigh that came from the usually level-headed man's nostrils. His temper had not only been sparked, but something had incinerated his sane judicious nature. The driver looked at the doctor, his eyes slanted into a piercing silent demand: who did this to her?
Finney shook his head, informing the man that he didn't have the answer. "I don't know his name. I just knew something was not right from how she was behaving, which is why I sent your boy to find her. I suppose it was fortunate that she ran into your coach."
Aaron could sense that despite it all, Finney was trying to calm Abraham, and while the doctor was just as upset as he was, the men seemed to be on different levels of intensity.
"Fortunate." The word fell sourly from Abraham's lips in a venomous baritone that wasn't meant for the Sallie or Finney.
A pause, and then Abraham turned on his heels to storm out of the tent. Aaron felt his eyebrows bridge in concern; he had no clue as to how Finney was able to keep the vehement driver at bay with simply a hand on his bicep. The madness and the lividness inside Abraham's eyes could have melted skin right off the bone with its heat. It was easy to understand why, and with the simple reposition of his body, Aaron was finally able to see the tapestry of violence on the girl's back.
Fresh and old burn marks paid testament to the pain she had endured by the hands of the gray man and was still enduring. They were ugly, hideous and Aaron winced looking at the mutilated flesh. Against the areas of her young body, where the older burns had healed, were red, but muted, pink lines that traced along her skin like roads on an old map. They were pale compared to the raw, and scarlet dotted burns as if they were ashamed of the mess they left on the small girl and tried fading away. The newer charred flesh could only have come from the heated ends of a cigar, and the 7-year-old shivered in trepidation at how much it could have hurt.
The cigar marks were not the only disheartening thing on her back, and upon Aaron discovering them, felt as if the old man had his hands around his throat yet again. Like angry nimbus clouds, the green and black bruises seemed to spread along her back in one massive conjoined block. They still formed a semblance of a shape and Aaron's first thought at what it could be: either a flat piece of wood or a leather belt.
When the blonde boy glanced away from the bruises, unable to stare anymore, caught Abraham's gaze through the tent's opening. The driver didn't seem to rebuke him for spying, but rather, felt guilty that he had allowed the boy to sneak by his defenses and procure himself as a witness.
"You should take her," Finney suddenly suggested, although it was much firmer than what it should have been for a merely offering an idea. The coach driver furrowed his eyebrows at him, his rage not passing just yet.
"I cannot protect her in a tent. You are more capable than I am to keep her safe," the doctor persuaded with a level tone. Finney's eyes glanced in Aaron's direction. "We'll discuss it later— after you get the children settled."
At first, Aaron thought Abraham might reject the idea, but instead solemnly nodded his head; between the two, Abraham was the most capable to defend her. With the click of his boots against the wooden boards of the compassionate doctor's tent, he bent over and gingerly reattached the buttons. Sallie didn't stir, not even when he leaned down and scooped her up and cradled her against his chest much as he had done to Aaron. Black kept a strong arm under her legs as her tired head slumped forward and landed on his shoulder. His other hand found her dark, curly hair and he used it to gently hold it in place as he carried her. Cocooned loosely in the gray, wool blanket from Finney's cot, Abraham ducked under the flap as the doctor held it open for him.
Stepping into the night breeze, Abraham greeted the world outside the doctor's tent with an impressive scowl. His sea green eyes, stark with ire, stared off a thousand miles into the distance as if the source of his anger was standing on the other end. Aaron didn't doubt he was safe in the ex-confederate's company, and even the old soldier himself knew even in the care of two injured children, he was a force to be reckoned. Aaron was certain, feeling safe about betting every dollar he had in his pocket, that if the old man was standing before him Abraham would have killed him without a moment's hesitation.
Looking into his former keeper's eyes, Aaron could tell that he still wanted to and that feeling was not going to pass until he did. It relived the boy, but it also concerned him. Never had he seen Abraham so angry; never so off-kilter from his moral code. He was a sinful man that wanted penance, but now, there wasn't a trace of the man Aaron had been accustomed to. The old man and the scarred girl had re-corrupted him, and the boy found himself frowning slightly.
In the state that the aggravated driver was in, the boy kept silent, even though he knew the repercussions for doing so. Aaron wanted to tell him about what happened but felt that addressing it might make matters worse. Abraham was already furious, and Aaron was frightened what transgressions would become of it. The driver seemed to know this as well and gazed at Aaron with an unreadable expression before turning back to the girl in his arms. The children seemed to be his only anchor for now, but it even they wasn't enough to quell his anger. Still, the man waited for Aaron to speak first; seeing right through the troubled youngster that there was something on his mind.
The stagecoach employee hadn't asked him yet, and the boy knew the man well enough to know that while Abraham desperately wanted to know, would let Aaron reveal it when he was ready. After running into him, the boy had planned that moment to be when they were alone, back at the station, with only the walls to hold the confession away from others.
Then again, perhaps he should tell him now and purposely send him over the ledge; make Abraham search and kill the old man for what he did to the girl and what he tried to do to him.
In a way though, it was redundant. All the evidence that would suggest he would kill the old man was written over his malevolent expression. There was no point in feeding to the already blistering fire in the pit of the man's stomach. Especially when the main concern was to take care of the kids right now.
An act of wrath could come later.
Abraham barked softly at Aaron to follow him, only glancing his direction lightly. He followed the dark-haired man in silence and bit his lip.
With nothing but the sound of footsteps between the two, felt the tension between them breed into worrisome paranoia. What would Abraham think of him once he knew of what happened? Would he still want him around? The orphan understood that it wasn't true, especially after the affectionate display Abraham had put on when he found the weeping boy. But would he be angry that Aaron had let an old man overpower him? He couldn't help but think he would be treated differently after the admission.
The boy scratched the back of his neck as they stepped out into the open street and approached the National Hotel. The girl murmured lightly in her sleep, the small sound almost sounding like a distressed groan as they passed the road. Like most buildings in Atchison, the structure was flat in terms of architectural creativity, except the balcony on the second level that distinguished it from the others. On the very same balcony, with a door cracked open that lead to his room, stood an older man smoking a cigar.
At first, he thought maybe it was Bauchau, and his heart began to flutter rapidly with trepidation. As they approached closer, however, he saw that it wasn't him; the man standing on the porch was larger in girth and sterner in expression. He seemed to be the only one awake now, except for perhaps whoever was at the front desk. Aaron noticed Abraham glancing between the boy and the stranger, and for the briefest of moments, saw the driver question himself if perhaps the boy and the man had run into each other. However, even though Aaron knew he was asking himself that question, let it dissipate as they neared the hotel.
Only the lobby's light and two of the windows conjoined on either side of the boardwalk and reminded Aaron of eyes on a face. Black's boots thudded heavily against the wooden boardwalk and held the door open for Aaron. As they stepped in, both of them came under the scrutiny of the man that had rejected Aaron for a room not too long ago.
He was a short man with greasy red hair under a worn black bowler hat and despite his disheveled, dark clothing he flaunted them as if they were feathers on a peacock; perhaps they were once when he first purchased them, but now they appeared more like rags. Aaron hated him the first time he had ventured into the pine colored parlor but seeing him a second time after what he had said to him, only made him want to beat those squinting evergreen eyes until they were bloody pulps in his sockets.
"I ain't renting outta room to some fuckin' little back-shootin' killer. Go sleep with the horses if they'll take ya'..."
Aaron hadn't even said anything; all he had done was merely appear under the hotel's doorframe. But after killing his good for nothin' Pa, it was enough for the man to recognize that the scruffy boy was him. He had been coming into Atchison with Abraham for years to the Butterfield station, but it was the only time they had set foot into his building. Still, the man knew them from passing-by. From what the orphan could gather, he held no animosity towards the driver, but plenty of resentment for Aaron. He also did not seem too fond of the girl either and eyed her with a sore expression.
The passing glare he had specifically for Aaron shifted from him and relaxed to address Abraham in a more professional manner. "Lovely evening. Inquiring about vacancies?"
Abraham nodded at him nonchalantly. "Have any?"
The hotel owner replied that he did and turned his back towards the placard with the set prices. "How long do you plan on staying, sir?"
Aaron hadn't missed the sneer in his direction when the red-head proprietor questioned the driver. It was obvious, even in the presence of the ex-soldier, that Aaron was still unwelcome.
"We'll be staying till the week's end," the driver answered. "With grub and privacy included."
The stout man grimaced instantly as soon as he heard that the room was for all of them roll off of Black's lips. Even though the driver had said it like any confident answer to a conversation, he had meant it to come across intentional. Just the same way as when the owner had disdainfully ignored the children's presence and had directed his previous question at Abraham only.
"I don't want him in here," the man behind the counter addressed firmly. Jerking his head slightly in Aaron's direction.
The tall, lean-muscled driver took a step forward towards the overweight man's counter and Aaron smiled lightly when he saw the man shrink back; as if afraid he might snap at him and smash his fist into his face regardless if he was holding Sallie or not.
"I want those accommodations. Understand me clearly?" the driver told him with an ungovernable snarl of impatience. It was enough to make the smaller man wished he had swallowed his words instead of spitting them out. It was the first time Aaron had seen him boss someone around so turbulently and he wasn't sure if it was a side of his guardian that he necessarily liked seeing.
"Of course," was his immediate answer as he handed over the key with a gulp, fearing Abraham was close to breaking his nose if he delivered an unsatisfactory answer.
Even with all that had happened that night, Aaron looked over his shoulder and threw the owner a victorious smile as he followed Abraham up the stairs and relished at the way every muscle in his face fought against shooting him a hateful look when Abraham also turned to him with a castigated look.
There was nothing the man could say, nor would say while Abraham was around. Knowing that bit of information gave the boy solace; even if it was such a minuscule thing in the end. After the week the child had endured, it was nice to run into some luck.
With his eyes on the back of the driver's wool coat as they climbed the stairs, Aaron had to wonder if Abraham's arrival had truly marked the end of his tribulations. Or if it was nothing more than a momentary break. The boy wasn't stupid. He would eventually have to tell Abraham about what the gray man did to him moments before he showed up.
Now though, was not the time, and both Aaron and Abraham knew that as well. Black turned to Aaron and held out the key as soon as he arrived at the door that had been assigned to them by the hotel's owner. Without a word, the one-armed kid reached out, took it, and turned it in the lock.
It opened almost soundlessly, except for the small creak and the light thud that accompanied it after the door hit the wall. To their surprise, it was more lavish than what they were both expecting. Aaron had never been inside a hotel room and was ignorant if all rooms were supposed to be this furnished. When he looked at his keeper's face for an answer, the boy frowned and understood that his previous assumption had been incorrect.
Each luxury in the room was met by Abraham's gaze with an ire scowl. From the rose-colored curtains and white lace that covered the two windows that led to the balcony, and to the obsidian-colored iron bed. Aaron almost felt ashamed looking at the white sheets that peaked over the edges of the dark blanket like ocean waves creeping in, and then down at his own dusty clothes that would soil them. Even the walnut colored table and chair looked too precious to touch with his unsanitary hands.
It was far too rich for their taste, and the boy was wondering if it was done on purpose because of Abraham's threats because he was either scared or had taken offense to them and this was the only opportunity for spite.
From the sour look on the Butterfield driver's face, it was evident that the older male was leaning towards the latter. But still, Aaron could tell that that the blue-green eyes related a different emotion to Aaron unintentionally. There was depression, as he looked down at the girl and then back to the room. The boy could only guess that it was bitter envy for the men and women that could afford to stay in such posh rooms without the concern of money running out. Maybe, this was also Abraham's first time seeing a room like this as well.
Aaron wondered if the former cavalryman could even afford this room for the time he had wanted. The boy knew the answer: probably not. Especially since he had given Aaron all the money he had in his pocket before departing.
The same money barely spent.
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out the bills that never belonged to the boy and handed it to Abraham. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, the driver looked down towards him before his eyes landed on the money in his hand. A warm, grateful smile crept over the man's face at the sight, silencing his racing thoughts about how to go about paying for the room, until his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the boy.
"You still got quite a bit," the man noted, distressed about the fact. "Would'a figured you'd spent most of it by now."
Aaron let out a despondent sigh from his mouth, feeling as if he had failed some unannounced assignment. "No one would take it from'a killer."
The corn-haired boy watched as anger crawled back up to his face and only stopped when Abraham's glower towards those who wronged the child stared down at him. It was obvious he didn't like Aaron's choice of words, mainly because he knew it was only repeating what he was told throughout Abraham's absence. Guilt developed between the two, replacing the glower adorned on his face, and Aaron suddenly felt as if he should have tried harder to get rid of the money, or at least chosen another set of words. Abraham had failed to shelter the boy from the animosity of older strangers like the hotel owner, and even with what happened downstairs, it was not enough to sponge away the troublesome weeks still in the back of the boy's mind.
"You're ain't what they imply," Abraham consoled, his crow's eyes wrinkling even more as guilt silently etched over his face. Aaron knew it was only a half-truth, and so did Abraham, but for now the boy only acknowledged it by casting his dejected eyes down at the floorboards of their hotel room.
Aaron heard Abraham exhale through his nostrils despairingly before his feet guided him to the bed to set the girl down. He laid her gently on the covers on her side; her closed eyes faced towards Aaron's before Abraham came to kneel in front of him.
The driver scratched the back of his own neck and lifted a single finger gently under the boy's bruised chin. Aaron winced but did his best to repress his expression of pain as the driver lifted his chin to look at him.
The boy stared vacantly into Abraham's eyes as his own searched for explanations to his unanswered questions that the man had been asking in silence after running into him crying on the street— the angry soldier couldn't wait anymore.
"What happened?" Abraham implored softly. Despite asking as tenderly as he could, there was still an aggressive demand behind his words hidden below his concern. Aaron wasn't sure how to answer, or if he should, considering it was still apparent Abraham was still enraged by the abhorrence they had both seen scarred on the back of the girl. Was it the best time to add fuel to an already blazing fire? What would the hostile temper that possessed him to make him do if the boy did?
Abraham's lips pursed slightly, his demeanor projecting his disquiet for Aaron's refusal to answer. It made the boy want to try, not wanting to upset him any further, but couldn't unglue his mouth apart to tell him what happened. He didn't want him to know. He couldn't let him know. Not only because he didn't want to relive it through his testimony, but he didn't want to take the chance of upsetting Abraham even more.
"Did someone hurt you?"
The 7-year-old glanced away from the driver's probing eyes and focused on an object behind the man. He meant to stare at one of the iron knobs of the bedpost but bridged his eyebrows together when he saw the wide-awake blue eyes of the girl on the bed eavesdropping on their scene.
Her dour, pitying look, made him angry and he wondered if Sallie had been pretending to be asleep. For how long? This entire time since the tent? He thought about yelling at her and demand an explanation even with Abraham there to witness it.
The idea dissipated rather quickly he found when he took a moment to really look upon her expression. Sallie was deeply apologetic, remorseful, and even heavily ashamed as her eyes glossed with wetness towards him. A tear ran down her face, sideways across her cheek and stained the blankets under her. The sincerity of her emotion helped abolish some impatience, but it was still not enough to stop being annoyed by her slight deception. Why was she pretending to be asleep? What was her game?
"Why won't you say, son?" Abraham asked, his tone disappointed.
The boy turned away from the girl but still avoided Abraham's gaze; his blue eyes settling on staring at the driver's chest. It was not that Aaron didn't have an answer; it was just he couldn't give it just yet.
For a moment, Aaron felt as if the man was asking him something different and conveyed it more heavily in his penitent eyes. Abraham wanted him to tell him not only to erase whatever horrible and rampant speculations he was conjuring but as a way of building trust again with them both. Abraham wanted to make sure Aaron understood that he could confide anything in him, even if he wouldn't like what he had to say.
It could never ideally be created so quickly, however, and for now, the only understanding of that came from the minimal nod of Abraham's head and the sigh that escaped out his nostrils. The driver understood Aaron wasn't ready, and it was best to let the boy divulge it on his own terms otherwise what the man wished for would never happen.
"I'll be nearby if ya need me," was all the dark-haired man said quietly. "Try an' get some sleep but come find me outside once she wakes up."
A doleful expression sagged the 7-year old's face down when he heard Abraham lifted himself from his kneeled position and left without another word out of the room. All Aaron could do in response was stew in his confusion and fear that he did something worse by not speaking.
Maybe he should have when he had the chance…
Sallie just stared at him and after a few moments passed since Abraham's departure. She seemed more at ease that the stagecoach driver was gone and sat up where she laid on the bed. Aaron threw a glare her direction and he gave her no sympathy when she shrunk like a frightened dog underneath his stare.
"You wanted him to find me, didn't ya?" Aaron accused, sputtering the acrid speculation he had since his encounter with Bauchau. His teeth bared as he marched a couple of feet towards the bed. The accusation was more rhetorical than anything, and even knowing the answer, only made him more indignant with her.
A tear rolled down her porcelain-doll like face, exposing her guilt for all to see. "He… he wanted me to. I'm sorry," she sniffled.
He didn't care and stormed over to the bed with a belly full of rage that needed venting. Sallie's eyes bugged wide and she scooted further away and let Finney's wool blanket fall from around her shoulders.
"He tried ta' kill me! And you knew that was what he was gonna do all along!" Aaron roared; his small fists tight.
The girl shivered and brought her knees up against her chest in an attempt to hide away from the blonde boy's heated gaze. "I-I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't want to! He said he would hurt me if I didn't do it. He always hurts me if I don't do what he says."
Guilt pricked at him and made his enmity falter for a brief second before his demeanor hardened. "Why you let him?" he criticized, his small voice still pitched with annoyance at her. "Why don'tcha run away? Get as far as you can from him if all he does is hurt you?"
A hand came up to wipe a reclusive tear that had made its way down her face. "I don't have anyone. Where would I go?"
Aaron understood the difficult position she was in, and he felt slightly sympathetic— he had been in the same type of circumstance not long ago— but the excuse still didn't sit well with him. "Did you ever even try?"
The abused girl nodded her head slightly, almost barely noticeable with it braced on her knees. "He hurts me worse when I do."
She sobbed harder and the sound of her grief cut into his cold attitude like a knife gutting a fish. Tears ran down her knees and soaked her black stockings as she bawled harder, releasing emotions that seemed to of been suppressed inside her who knows how long; perhaps this was the first opportunity she ever had to ever express it. It made him feel even worse even if the sound annoyed him. He didn't want to make anyone cry—he didn't even know he was capable of such a thing—and left him utterly bewildered on how to deal with her. The boy wished that Abraham had never left the room.
"Why you let him do that?" Aaron demanded, more softly this time, as his free hand balled into a frustrated fist. Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach as he remembered every jagged line marked into her.
She must have taken it as more of a reprimand other than a question because she pressed her eyes into her knees and whimpered. Aaron blinked at her, a grimace flickering across his face as his eyes glanced from his shoes to the floorboards and then to the wallpaper of the room. The boy didn't know what to say to make her feel better, and in all honesty with himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The fact of the matter was, she still almost got him killed.
"Why you let him do that?"
As his blue eyes wandered back over towards her shivering form, he frowned at the question he had uttered before. His tired mind couldn't find an answer when he placed himself in her shoes. The whole thing that happened to him was deplorable—what the man had done to her was deplorable. The information she would not give only made him more bitter, and he refused to believe that it was nonexistent.
Still, in her metaphoric shoes, he walked over to the bed where she was and looked at her. "If it were me—I would have blown his head off for doin' what he's doing."
Surprise and alarm flooded over her face when she lifted it up to look at the other child.
"Ain't nobody got the right to do that and should be in a coffin if they do!" Aaron told her, nodding his head hard at her as his blue eyes darkened with seriousness. Her face paled at him, and the tears on her face paused for a moment, as she blinked at him—her full attention captured.
"If it had been me—he'd be dead," the boy promised venomously. Sallie's mouth gaped at him, flabbergasted by his words as if he was speaking an unforgivable taboo. Was it though? The gray man deserved it! And by the look of understanding on her face, the idea slowly worming her way into her small mind, she didn't need too much further convincing to see that he may be right. This man was the exception to something most would think horrible.
"He even relation?" Aaron interrogated, wondering with disgust how a grandfather could beat their own grandchild. He thought they were supposed to be nice—at least what he had heard from other people.
Sallie shook her head. "They put me on the train. He said… I was to go with him when I got here. I had nowhere else to go."
She didn't have to explain any further— any stray knew it meant the Orphan Train. It had been suggested to him several times during Abraham's absence by scornful strangers that he should board it as well and leave Atchison. Aaron had even seen it once or twice and had never given it much thought until now. The motherless boy could have been a part of the mass of young faces stuffed together in cars and charted off to strangers who only wanted them for their own needs. If not for Abraham, he would have taken the same ride as Sallie did and could have ended up with a man worse than Bauchau. The thought made goosebumps flush over his skin just thinking about it.
"He took you just so he could hurt you?" Aaron asked, his small voice a horrified whisper that he was surprised she even heard.
"Why would he take me if he didn't want me?"
The words didn't seem right coming from her, and he wondered if that was something that Bauchau had said to her every time she had asked that same thing. It repulsed him to picture the same man breaking him the way he had done to her. Rendering him an empty vessel Aaron had difficulty even imagining, with those same hateful and manipulative words directed at him if he had ended up in the gray man's clutches.
A different type of anger stewed inside him— a selfless one, he supposed.
Something had to be done about Mr. Bauchau.
He would have said more, but Abraham's voice fluttered through his mind, presenting him with a weighty choice.
"You ain't what they imply."
He thought about listening, but this was different.
It was not the same as it was killing his Pa. While he may have been a sonvabitch, Aaron's conscience told him that his father, although awful, wasn't as bad as the gray man was. Who would feel guilty about getting rid of such a man? She could get rid of his without remorse.
The affirmation that the young child's speculation might be true was the way Sallie seemed to silently agree with him. As scared as she was, she wanted to get away from him more. She looked so lost and fragile, but even her timid nature silently agreed with him that the old man had to go. She was still understandably petrified —thinking only about what could still happen if Bauchau caught her. That she would never get away from him.
But there was still hope, and she didn't realize yet.
Even if she didn't pull the trigger herself, somebody else could.
Nobody could say they would miss the old man after seeing what he had done to her back.
No jury and no rope around the neck.
"Do good deeds and endure."
What better good deed?
And besides, he wasn't suggesting that she do it. He already knew one person that wanted to kill Bauchau more than they did.
Maybe now was the time to tell Abraham.
He paused for a moment. The realization about what he just thought of jarring him. In his gut, it didn't feel right having Abraham doing the kid's dirty work, but at the same time, he'd knew Abraham would be a willing party. He knew that Sallie would never go along with it no matter how much she hated and feared him, and Aaron knew that she would most likely indirectly sabotage Aaron's idea.
Perhaps if she understood why it needed to be done— to see it from somebody else's viewpoint— she would go along.
"My pa' killed my momma right in front of me," the 7-year-old began, his voice a strained croak. The memory catapulted back to him and he sucked in a breath. Sallie looked up at him, the mere look of her sadness for him draining his energy the more she stared at him. Aaron did his best to ignore it; he didn't want her sympathy, only to listen to what he had to say.
"I found him and shot him with the Philly I keep in my pocket," Aaron confessed, a small bit of remorse in his words; it was a sour memory. The girl didn't seem to pick up on that, and instead, was more interested in the facts of his story.
"You… you killed him?" she asked timidly. The girl with the ribbon gazed upon him with a fearful expression.
Instead, the boy solemnly nodded; a callous frown on his face as the image of his father smiling down at him, laughing and mocking him with his bastard friends entered his mind. Aaron also remembered being under the bed years before and watching his mother being strangled in front of him. The only thing he could see where her feet thrashing as he sat on top of her with her hands around her throat and frothing at the mouth with unrestrained rage.
"He had it comin'."A tear ran down the boy's face and he wiped it away with a harsh flick of his hand, but he still failed to hide it from her view. "And its better without him."
Sallie watched him in silent curiosity, as if chiseling every word, he spouted with consideration into her brain. The girl bit her lip as they both remained silent for the longest time, none of them speaking a word to one another. The air around them felt heavier, awkward, and it made his lungs feel as dense as an iron weight.
The girl looked as if she felt the same way, but he could tell there was something different going through her mind. Contemplation pulled across her soft features, flickering across her face like candlelight fighting against a gust of wind; an idea she was deliberating about. What it was, Aaron couldn't guess, and he figured that it was probably her putting his scattered story together with the minimal pieces he had given her.
For a brief moment, Aaron could have sworn he heard boots outside of the door walking away. However, he shook his head and ignored it as he waited for Sallie's response.
The boy couldn't take the silence anymore and with a shake of his head, asked the first question that popped into his mind. "Were you pretendin' this whole time?"
"What?" she murmured, pulled from her thoughts.
"Pretendin' to be asleep," Aaron simplified.
After a pause, as if debating whether what to tell him, nodded her head. "Because… they saw."
Her eyes blinked rapidly, and Aaron thought she would cry again. Instead, she sucked in a breath and crossed her arms over her chest and gripped the white, ruffled shoulders of her dress. The fellow orphan understood; she was scared—embarrassed—even ashamed of herself. She was acting to avoid the adults that had uncovered her secret in the Finney's tent and didn't want to hear the questions they had right now from people she didn't know.
Aaron scratched the back of his neck, as if hoping the action would peel away the awkward air that had settled on them both. Unsure what to do, he did the only thing that made sense to him.
"I'll be right back. I'm gonna go get Abraham," was the only goodbye the boy could choke up as he turned on his heel and left. As he did, he barely caught the sudden, anxious gasp out of her mouth when he told her he was bringing the stagecoach driver up.
"Please don't!" she cried, one of her hands outstretched towards him.
Aaron huffed as he shook his head in slight disbelief. "I'm just gonna tell him you're awake— like he asked."
Truthfully, they both knew that he was lying and what his true intent was. Perhaps she wasn't as dumb as he thought she was. Regardless of her previous reaction, it still shocked when she leaped from the bed and grabbed his hand. Her small fingers wrapped around his, and despite how small she, grappled him tightly. Aaron jerked his hand back, taken aback by her, as his face twisted into a pained scowl.
"Let go of me!" Aaron hollered, pulling away from her.
"Please... I don't want anyone else to get hurt cause of me!" she begged, tears spilling out of her eyes.
"I said get off!"
With a hard yank, he managed to slip his arm out of her grasp. The sudden motion sent her falling backwards onto her bottom. He heard her whimper when she hit the floor and the tremor of her weight under his boots. It was harsh, but not as harsh as the next words that came out of his mouth.
"We ain't gonna get hurt because we're not cowards like you! If you had enough sense, you'd be long gone from him by now!"
Her lips trembled as her glassy eyes glanced at the floor, trying to avoid his heated gaze. Aaron felt guilt for his words, only meaning to get his point across instead of hurting her further. It didn't change the fact that he was still angry with her and at least he was getting his point across to her finally.
"I'm gonna tell Abraham," Aaron finally said, cutting down any objection she was about to say as he turned on his heel. He turned on his heels, suddenly feeling uncomfortable facing the door and the first hurdle to his path downstairs to Abraham. The idea still didn't feel right to him, but perhaps that meant he was doing the right thing?
It was the only solace he had, and the thought made him swallow nervously.
"Was your papa mean to you too?" her small voice called, stopping him before his hand could grip the door handle. For a brief second, Aaron almost thought she was talking about Abraham, and he almost snorted out loud at the thought of Abraham being as mean as Mr. Bauchau. But he understood that she was referring to his real father, the son of a bitch that had dared to call him his son. A scowl presented itself on his face as he nodded his head; answering her question.
"Did it make it better after you killed him?" she asked carefully. Aaron turned to her and stared earnestly into her wide, impressionable blue eyes. She waited for his response as if he was a soothsayer about to deliver a prophecy and he didn't particularly enjoy the attention. However, he could never snake oil the answer no matter who asked it, because, in his heart, the answer he gave would forever and completely be honest.
"Yes."
He didn't look at her as he exited the hotel room; regretful of his answer no matter how true it was.
"You ain't what they imply."
Aaron doubted those words even though Abraham had spoken with sincerity. Why did he have so much faith in him that he didn't deserve? Was there a chance?
"Do good deeds and endure."
Maybe this was his? Getting his amends through Abraham killing someone that needed killing like his Pa? Unlike last time though, the driver could pull the trigger instead of having the child do it. The boy was concerned for a moment about what would happen in the aftermath, especially since Aaron had just recently been released from the Sherriff's jail cell, but the 7-year-old knew it would be just as brief.
Abraham would go to trial, but after the jury saw Sallie's back, nobody would hang him. Just like the good, Christian folks of the small Kansas town couldn't bring themselves to hang a child. The Butterfield employee would walk free by the end of the week for killing such a monstrous man— women would even make him pies thanking him for purging such evil from their town.
Aaron was certain of it.
So why was he having a hard time accepting it?
Still, as the boy timidly walked down the stairs of the stale cigar-scented hotel, he rubbed his thumb over his sweaty palm. Although he had confidence about Abraham's fate, he did not want to put it into motion because the only way for Abraham to do it, was to anger him even more than he was already.
There was some reassurance for his plan knowing that it wouldn't take much, and Aaron speculated he would have ended up killing Bauchau if he did tell him or not, but shame still coiled in the pit of his stomach like a villainous snake. It felt wrong doing this but knew that it had to be done. The gray man had to die. Aaron had seen his eyes; those black, avaricious pits. There was no other way to stop him from doing what the elderly man enjoyed— inflicting pain— except for someone put a bullet in his skull.
It didn't take Aaron long to find Abraham outside the hotel, and the driver didn't move from the wooden pillar he was leaning against. Aaron stopped on the stairs and watched the man outside. Thankfully, the hotel owner had left the front desk, so only the boy's presence occupied the dark lobby. He stayed on the stairs for a moment, and through the pane of glass to the outside, he noted Abraham's dark expression.
Just like what had happened in Finney's tent, the boy could feel the driver's anger from where he was on the steps. Apparent and as strong as smoke in the air. Aaron sat down on the steps and watched him through the bars, suddenly feeling unable to move from his spot. Whether the ex-soldier knew he was there or not, he didn't indicate it, but if he had, Aaron was certain he would have welcomed him with an unhappy gaze for being spied on. As the dark-haired man chewed on the inside of his cheek, Aaron caught the sound of the man tapping something against the wood of the boardwalk.
The worried youngster wasn't sure what it was, but it continued, and with each tap against the wood, Abraham's own anger escalated slowly.
It wasn't the same man Aaron had grown accustomed too. The man beyond the hotel was methodical, but unhinged, as he worked through his own riotous thoughts.
Tap
Tap
Tap
Even with the glass marring a clear view of his surrogate paternal figure, there was nothing Aaron could see that was recognizable of the stoic, controlled man. If he had to guess who it was, Aaron had to guess it was the soldier. The man Abraham had told him was so full of absolute resentment for the world until he met his mother. When the coachman had told him about who he used to be, Aaron had a hard time believing him, but now before him, there was no denying his past persona when it was evident before him.
Tap
Tap
Tap
Needless to say, Aaron did not like him. The hateful candor in his eyes burned as if Bauchau was right before him. That brought up the question, what would the soldier do that Abraham wouldn't?
As if the Confederate outside had heard him, Abraham raised his gun, the one that he had been tapping against the wood and emptied the bullets from it one by one. Even someone as young as Aaron could understand...
When he came across the Gray Man, Abraham wasn't planning on wasting a bullet on him.
Unloading the last bullet, Abraham must have caught him out of the corner of his eye and turned towards the window and looked inside. As soon as the man caught his gaze and finally realized that Aaron had seen a glimpse of the man, he regretted he once was, he turned away slowly, as if shunning himself for letting Aaron peek behind the curtain. He could see Abraham's fist balled up before he saw the man's shoulders sag as he reached into his coat and pulled out tobacco.
Suddenly, Aaron's plan didn't seem so well thought out.
It was unnerving seeing the soldier finally. The man who wanted to kill. Who seemed like he took pleasure in killing. He knew how much Abraham hated that past and knew the only reason he was able to change was because of his mother. She was gone from their lives and the only string attaching him to her was Aaron. The one that was keeping him straight and away from falling back into his turbulent old habits.
And Aaron's plan was to push him further.
Now, the child understood why the plan had not felt right. Why it didn't seem to follow Finney's guidelines.
For Aaron to get the result he wanted, he needed the soldier and not the coachman.
That was not who he wanted. He wanted Abraham, maybe even needed Abraham to prove something to him.
When Aaron looked up and watched as one of Atchison's deputies pass by the window, the boy realized that he had been wrong and had made a more grievous error in the process.
Abraham was willing and could do what needed to be done without the need of his old self. In retrospect, it was the same as it had been with his Pa. Maybe there was a way to get justice for all that Bauchau had done while also delivering him his comeuppance. The hangman's rope was no bleeding heart, and neither would the jury be once they found him.
But if the law didn't find him, it was unquestionable that Abraham would.
Aaron, still seated on the stairs, came to the painful conclusion that there was no way he could tell Abraham what had happened between him and Sallie's keeper. He didn't want the soldier and feared what could happen not on Bauchau's sake, but on Abraham's. It would tarnish what Aaron liked about him.
However, there was no way that the man could get away with what he had done either. It was the only reason he managed to climb back to his feet and walk down the steps.
The boy's mind raced through a thousand scenarios of the soldier with Bauchau and Aaron contemplated the aftermath. What if Abraham's actions were too bloody to be forgiven— even if it was Bauchau? Aaron couldn't be alone again. But he couldn't keep what had happened a secret.
Tell him.
No, wait.
He needs to know.
He has to go.
Abraham doesn't need to do this.
But Bauchau deserves it.
His Pa deserved it!
Only the moon and the lanterns nearby caste any glow on the man as he kept his back to the boy, and exhaled tendrils of smoke from his lips. The driver was still missing his hat, and it was still odd seeing his caretaker without it but approached him with measured footsteps until he stood next to him.
Now that he was next to him, the words he had practiced down the stairs died on his tongue; the very same words that would bring forth the soldier.
You ain't what they imply
The boy opened his mouth but closed it when nothing but a defeated sigh escaped. Abraham turned to him, studying him, as he took the rolled cigarette between his fingers as he inhaled again. The man waited for something and visibly tensed with indignation as if he knew what Aaron was going to say even if he didn't know it was intended to upset him.
Aaron couldn't dare to look up at him and instead focused on the particles of dirt on the boardwalk they stood on. He could feel the driver's astute eyes on him, analyzing every small detail that Aaron tried to hide from him. It wasn't scrutiny, and the boy knew it was concern that filled them as he looked down at the boy, but he still couldn't say what needed to be said.
He had it comin'
You ain't what they imply
He was such a coward.
All he had to do was speak and all he could do was stand there like a slack-jawed idiot.
But how could he want this for Abraham if he wasn't what everyone in this damn town thought he was?
How was he better than Bauchau, or the soldier... or his father.
Emotion swelled up within him and before he could bottle it down, he burst into tears. Aaron didn't even reach to dry them, too embarrassed to even do that.
He couldn't do that to Abraham.
A calloused hand came to land on his shoulder and gently pulled him to its owner. Abraham embraced him in a calm, and sturdy hold as Aaron buried his eyes into Abraham's waistcoat. He cried into the man's wool vest, feeling the cold chain of his pocket watch tickle the corner of his cheek every now as he slowly eradicated every somber feeling he had been holding on to. Abraham discarded the cigarette, forgetting it entirely, as his free hand came up to ravel itself in his yellow hair. Aaron was thankful that he didn't say anything, but both of them came to a mutual understanding at that moment. They both understood why he couldn't tell him just yet but knew that what needed to be done would.
There were other ways. Ones that were not so irredeemable.
Bacuhau would still answer for what he did, but perhaps there was a way that didn't corrupt the both of them.
They were both seated on the boardwalk by the time daylight had already began to set the sky on fire with an amber glow. Neither of them hadn't said anything, but after the upset boy had finally depleted what was left of his sadness, they sat there in mutual silence. It was not to say that the boy wasn't still upset, and that tension remained unspoken between them; aware of its existence and refused to acknowledge it until it was more appropriate.
Abraham had lit another cigar as the sun slowly rose over the top of the buildings that still blocked most of its light like artificial mountains. Aaron also held a cigar in his hands, given to him after Aaron had eyeballed the one between Abraham's finger one too many times. It was his first-time smoking, and the only time Abraham had ever caved in; he didn't enjoy the look of seeing the boy with a cigar in his hands but agreed he had earned the opportunity this one time.
Aaron couldn't help but feel he had been taught a lesson— he hated the taste the second the paper rested on his lips. Still, he inhaled his first whiff and gagged. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes and despite not being able to see clearly, swear he saw the coachman smirk lightly as he pressed his own cigar to his lips. The Butterfield employee had warned him that he wouldn't like it, and as predicted, the boy didn't after all. Now he believed him.
This was the version of Abraham he certainly liked better he noted to himself.
Abraham had taken it away after Aaron had let it linger in his hand, untouched after his first attempt, and extinguished it against the dusty floorboards of the boardwalk. Tucking it back into the front pocket of his vest, they both watched as railroad workers stumbled from their tents and tiredly walked towards the hotel. Aaron could smell breakfast cooking from inside the building behind him and his stomach growled the very moment it hit his nose. The grungy men, all of them reeking of last night's boozing and yesterday's work, sauntered into the hotel to take their place in the breakfast line.
As the door closed, Abraham threw his cigarette to the dirt and picked himself up. Aaron followed him, smacking his lips in one last attempt to get the taste of tobacco out of his dry mouth. He hoped that whatever was being served for breakfast would dilute the taste out. Aaron didn't know how the older man could stand it, and perhaps that would be a mystery that he wouldn't understand until he was older.
They took their place in line behind the railroad workers and the boy cursed under his breath when he saw how the long the line had already formed before they had even opened the door. Patrons of the hotel already stood patiently as the line moved slowly. Aaron stood on his toes and leaned to the side; trying to get a better view at what waited for them at the end.
"Goddamn pieces of brick, 'gain," he heard one of the workers in front of them mutter in disdain. Aaron furrowed his eyebrows; biscuits weren't his favorite, but it was better than nothing. More people joined the line behind them as the tables in the main dining hall filled up and the rest of the men in line stood inside the parlor with the metal plates in their hands. The dining area wasn't much to boast about except for the long bar, piano and multiple deer heads that lined the back wall. It was small as well, and he was unsure of how there was room to even accommodate everyone. It smelled even worse of cigar smoke than the rest of the building did, and Aaron silently prayed that the week they would stay in the hotel, would fly by briefly.
It was his turn to grab a plate from the pile that sat on top of the bar and the smooth dinnerware slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a clumsy bang. It rolled past Abraham's feet and the boy chased after it, losing his place in line and grabbed it before it collided with another man's shoes.
The sound of gunfire cracked in the distance, disturbing the quiet placidity of the early morning. Many looked up, the railroad workers didn't react, and Aaron found himself flinching at the sound; surprised by it. It was frivolous though to wonder what caused the gun to go off since he had heard the sound so much in his short lifetime, he was numb to it; it had the same effect as a bird call. The only abnormality was that he hadn't expected it first thing in the morning.
Both picked up the light-yellow rolls set out for them, and Aaron frowned when discovering what the train workers had grumbled about had been true. They were stone hard and did not look at all appetizing upon closer inspection. Aaron could swear he saw the wing of a horse fly sticking out of the bumpy surface. Still, it was still far better than anything he had eaten on the Smokey Hill Trail. A ladle came into his view and he looked up to see Abraham pouring the pasty gravy the over his biscuits.
"Should help with the taste," the coach driver winked. Aaron smiled weakly; the gravy wasn't at all encouraging to him. At least the hard-boiled eggs looked decent.
"Black."
Heads turned towards the door and Aaron frowned at the sight of the familiar and unpleasant shotgun messenger. Zachariah met his stare with as much enthusiasm as the boy gave him but ignored him the minute Abraham began to walk over towards him. The youngster tried to follow him, but the driver's palm shot behind him and told him to stay put. With the plate still in his hand, heavy with an untouched meal, he watched as the two men talked, Zachariah looking somewhat more agitated than usual.
The child couldn't overhear what they were saying thanks to the other conversations in the room drowning out the Butterfield's employees, but as Abraham turned to him, the man offered a reassuring smile as he approached Aaron and Zachariah left without through the hotel door.
"I'll be back in a bit," he told him, the plate of food still in his hand.
"Where are you goin'?" the child asked, chewing the inside of his cheek.
"Jus' gonna stop by the livery," the man replied. Placing a hand on Aaron's good shoulder, he leaned forward and requested: "Take some food up to the girl too, would ya? She is probably just as hungry."
Diffidently, Aaron realized that he had forgotten about the girl after coming down to talk to Abraham, and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck as he nodded to him as the man headed to join his partner.
Looking down at the plate of food, a weary grimace pulled at the corners of his mouth and decided that he could at least give her his first. Leaving the hotel's room behind, he carried the breakfast up the stairs. An idea came to mind as he ascended the wooden stairs: he could tell Sallie what they planned to do. It would make her feel better and give her the first glimmer of faith she had probably had in the longest time.
As he entered the hallway on the second floor and passed by the rooms, Aaron tried to silence any doubt he had about his original plan. There was a possibility that she might not go along with what they had in mind, perhaps still too scared to get the sheriff involved. The boy huffed out an exasperated breath as he closed in on their assigned room. Why was doing the right thing so complicated? He thought that it was supposed to make people feel better, not tired.
Turning the bronze colored handle, Aaron stepped inside the room and felt all the air leave his lungs— stolen by the sudden shock of entering an unoccupied room.
Sallie was nowhere to be found.
Aaron walked all over Atchison for her the entirety of that day, searching every place the young boy had access to. No matter his efforts though, there was no trace of her, as if Sallie had never existed at all. At first, the boy couldn't figure out how she had managed to do it; the window was closed, and Abraham and Aaron would have spotted her sneaking out the front door. It wasn't until he found the back door to the hotel did it make sense to him.
After looking under the bed of the room, Aaron didn't even remember if he sat the plate of food down but was certain that it was probably being eaten by flies nonetheless, he set out on his mission to recover her. At first, he debated against it but ultimately knew that if he didn't at least try, he'd regret it.
Twilight had already begun to settle on the landscape, and besides a sliver of fiery orange and calm azure, stars had already pierced the dark veil above him when he finally gave up.
Back at the schoolhouse and under the tree where he had first met her, he sat defeated against the trunk in silence as he watched the last remnants of the day disappear under the horizon. Candlelight and lanterns flickered inside the glass windows of the buildings like embers in the distance, showing the 7-year-old where the town was in the dark.
He didn't want to start walking towards it just yet, knowing the moment he entered Atchison, Abraham would want to know what happened to her. He would ask why she fled and no matter how long he spent against the tree trying to come up with an excuse, the truth was, he didn't know and would not be able to give an acceptable answer.
The only thing that was certain was Aaron was responsible for her disappearance even if he wasn't sure why. It was guilt that kept him seated against the elm and anger for her disappearing without knowing why made him frightened to see Abraham. But there was no other fate for him though other than to face the coach driver and his questions.
Grudgingly, he rose to his feet and walked towards the sleepy rural town that was beginning to settle in for its nightly routine. He could already see men, rough bachelors and married men alike, walking about the gravel streets; being called by temptation towards the house of sin of their choosing, while others ducked into their homes to sleep over and ignore what they did.
The National Hotel stood out with the saloons and brothels prompting a sudden thought to enter his mind.
There was also the possibility that this was all just a misunderstanding, and she had always intended to return to the hotel. Perhaps the reason she left was to grab some items and Sallie thought Abraham could help her escape. Where else could she possibly go except three places? Finney's tent, Aaron and Abraham's room or back in Bauchau's possession.
Speaking of which, the doctor's tent was the only thing that the boy had avoided and only because he wanted to answer the man's prodding questions as much as he wanted to answer Abraham's. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to answer anything from either...
That is if she truly was at the National.
There was no avoiding either of them if that wasn't the case, and Aaron let out a tired sigh at the thought. Just trying to guess what they would ask them was tiring enough and with that fact, it was getting harder to persuade his feet to move towards Atchison once again.
The orphan wished he could stay in the dark, hidden against the tree until dawn; until Abraham finally tracked him down and the boy's borrowed time was up trying to delay his inevitable interrogation. However, waiting was almost as painful as forcing himself to get it over with.
Besides, there was still the happy thought Sallie was with Abraham right now, sitting on the bed of the hotel room answering his inquiry in his stead. Maybe the most Aaron would have to do tonight was nod his head, keep quiet and ask questions the young child had on his own mind if she was to come with them.
It filled him with small relief, and he was certain that the hotel was where they both were.
He hoped that was where they were.
As soon as he passed by the first set of buildings that greeted him into the town, he felt the hairs on his arms bristle uncomfortably. Atchison had never been his favorite town on all the stops on the Smokey Hill Trail, but the past few weeks had forever cemented his hatred for the Kansas town. He would ask Abraham never to bring him here again. He'd rather settle for a plot of land in Arapaho territory than choosing to ever call this place home. He would gladly enjoy the life of a vagabond with Abraham instead of a permanent resident of this damned purgatory.
For once, he looked forward to leaving on the coach again, even if he was wedged with Zachariah on it. Aaron had to wonder, however, what was the be done with Sallie? Would she be coming with them as well? Perhaps Abraham would promise her to look for someone decent along the way. Or maybe, she would go with the Children's Aid Society and be jumping back on the Orphan Train.
Or, she would be joining them as well.
That idea didn't sit well with the corn-haired orphan and he chewed the inside of his cheek at the thought of her around all the time. Even if she was a broken nobody like Abraham and Aaron was, he preferred to remain an only child. The main reason being, not because he was averse to having a sibling, it was he didn't want to see the gray man and remember him after Atchison. With Sallie around, he would see him every time he looked at her—every time he thought of her now, he saw the Bauchau.
The troubling concept that she might linger with them made him pick up his feet quicker as if getting to the hotel faster would alter any decision Abraham decided on. As unlikely as that was, he continued to walk at the same hurried pace, kicking up clouds of small dust behind his heals.
Begrudging, Aaron realized that the best way to the National was to pass by Finney's tent on the way, but he was confident he could avoid the man altogether if he was cleaver with his steps. The affair between himself and the doctor was still puzzling to him, especially when he hadn't realized that he had already met the doctor, or more accurately, Finney knew he was Abraham's ward.
While it made the doctor's at ease approach towards the boy understandable, it still hadn't been reciprocated. A former passenger or not, Aaron still didn't know Finney and didn't take too warmly to him even if he did fix his arm.
The boy eyed the tent with an unyielding watchful gaze as he approached it— and at the same time kept his space away. Still, at this comfortable distance, he could hear Finney inside his makeshift home and office at work. His voice carried to Aaron and despite not being able to make out the words, the boy could make out the desperation in his tone. It caused the injured child to stop in his tracks for a bit, curiosity about what was going on inside the doctor's quarters taking control for the second time that day.
The boy couldn't make out shadows through the tent, but the glow of the lantern softly bled through the canvas and outlined several people in the tent. There was Finney— he guessed— as the frantic dark cloud moving to and fro between work desks for objects. There was a body on the cot, his patient, and then there was another that stood by; a still dark shape that observed quietly.
Then, as quickly as Finney had been moving in the tent, all the occupants in the tent went slack, and an uncomfortable silence not only entered the tent but carried outside to Aaron as well and he shared the palpable heaviness of something horrible that had just happened.
Daringly, the apprehensive child found his feet moving towards the tent, almost by their own accord. The 7-year-old knew better though— he had to see. He had to quell the desperate pleas in his mind that begged that the body on the cot wasn't who he thought it was. The injured boy grew more hesitant with each silent footfall outside the tent as a voice in the back of his mind petitioned desperately for him to run the other direction — already knowing who and what was beyond the curtain.
As if controlled by an indifferent puppeteer, the boy's hand lifted to the curtain's door and pulled back the flap with reluctant concern, and his face immediately fell with instant regret at the scene displayed before him.
He should have looked harder for her.
Aaron felt the blood drain from his face as he stared at Sallie cold and dead from the cot that was almost barricaded from view from Finney and the other man that he immediately recognized.
While the young boy stared at the bloody young girl upon the cot with utmost trepidation, Abraham looked upon the barely recognizable Sallie with haunting stillness. Aaron was actually somewhat grateful that he could not see Abraham's face, just feeling his rancor alone was enough to make the boy want to bury himself into the earth like a forgotten skeleton.
The doctor's eyes locked on to the new trespasser in the tent, and stared at him with palpable hesitance seeing Aaron outside; he didn't want the child to see what was unfolding before him — both upon seeing Sallie's broken body and his guardian's furious reaction.
The youngster's eyes didn't stay focused on the doctor's for long— neither did Finney's— as the flexed back towards the coachman's unmistakably malevolent, but silent disposition, as he surveyed the girl before him.
The blue-eyed boy's gaze dropped to the small cadaver that sat on the cot, her blood already painting the taupe cloth with crimson blots as her blood coagulated from the battered face of the small girl. While her face was broken— which included her nose, mouth, cheeks— her expression was serene as if her body was thankful for the reprieve from its torture finally. A gunshot to the chest had procured her demise, and Aaron's thoughts went back to breakfast when he had heard the random shot in the town. It didn't take long for the young boy to connect the two events with each other and felt his stomach sink at the realization that she had been dead before he went out searching for her. They were eating breakfast while she was being killed. Her mutilation disturbed the young boy, close to her age, to no end. She had been beaten mercilessly, and despite only being witness to the aftermath, replayed the brutal assault in his mind. Imagining her pained whimpers, heartbreaking screams, and the sound of crunching bones over a volume of wet blood soaking the fists of her attacker. Then the crescendo of the gun pointed at her, and firing for the whole town to here but oblivious. Her short terrible life ended by his abhorrent hands.
The visage of the gray man crept into his thoughts like a demonic phantasm, and the boy shuddered under the memory of the man's deplorable hands on his throat, and the ghastly image of the elation he conjured trying to end Aaron's life. He imagined the same image the last Sallie saw before he pulled the trigger; savagely jubilant in causing her harm. The blonde boy sucked in a heavy breath, and couldn't stop himself from picturing himself in Sallie's shoes.
It could have been him.
It almost was him.
Abraham could have been staring at Aaron instead of Sallie.
The ex-soldier raised a hand towards the girl, placing a shaking hand upon her and letting it rest over the blood-soaked white dress where her heart once was, replaced now with a gaping gunshot wound. The young child couldn't tell if Abraham's hand was shaking from horror upon what was in front of him, or utmost rage until his hand curled into a trembling ball against the girl's form.
The boy noticed an angry vein jut itself along the stagecoach driver's tanned skin along his neck, as he turned towards the doctor with a painfully clenched jaw. The driver uttered just a single word, the only vocal indication of his complete vehemence.
"Where."
Finney only blinked in apprehension of hearing the word so venomously seethed through Abraham's lips. The doctor's eyes glanced to Aaron's for the briefest of seconds, trying his best not to involve the young boy to his keeper's wrath, and turned his attention back to his with stout resolute. The older man either didn't know or refused to tell him, it was hard to tell for the youngster. He didn't understand why the doctor would relent the information after what was placed inside his tent. The son of bitch deserved what he had come to for doing what he did to the girl. He was a murdering son of a bitch that needed a noose!
Aaron frowned suddenly at his last thought; stopping himself for a brief moment to analyze the doctor's reasoning more closely. Yes, it was undeniable that the gray man deserved to swing for what he had done but deserved the bullet in his back even more.
Strangely, however, Finney had now been placed in the same situation as Abraham had been when it was Aaron that wanted nothing more than revenge against his injustice. The boy was never remorseful over the fact that his father had gotten what he had coming to him, but he had always regretted the bridge it threatened to create between Abraham and himself. The man had tried his best to save his damned soul, and unfortunately, they both made mistakes in trying to seek out their own resolutions to the same problem.
Now, Finney was seemingly doing the same, despite how much it looked like he wanted to let Abraham loose. The boy's conjecture was easily read from the man's face as he withheld what he knew from Abraham. He did not condone what the bastard had done to Sallie, but he refused to allow Abraham to administer his own brand of brutal justice — the brand that was the ex-soldier's forte before Aaron's introduction into his life. It wasn't that Finney was trying to protect the gray man from a certain and very deserved death, he was trying to spare Abraham's soul blackening and in the meantime, spare Aaron from being a witness to it.
Do good deeds and endure.
Aaron wasn't sure if Abraham could endure letting the gray man live if he told the ex-confederate what the man had tried to do to him before they ran back into each other. Abraham had pursued and failed to learn back at the National, but the soldier would most certainly get the answer from him.
Abraham suddenly grasped the doctor by the lapels of his coat, pulling him towards him with an impatient vehemence. "I asked you where the fuck he is."
Aaron shuddered at his surrogate parent, taking a small step away from the tent as the former solider stared at the man with dwindling restraint the more he kept silent. For a moment, the child pictured himself with the soldier's hands upon his coat, glaring down at him with diligent ferment for an answer that he could not give. It frightened the boy, and he found himself backing away from the tent even more.
Perhaps he heard his shaky breathing from beyond the tent wall, or just because he saw him out of the corner of his eye, but whatever the reason, Abraham turned towards the door and set his eyes upon him.
To the boy's surprise, Abraham didn't appear offended that he had been spying on the two older men, instead, he walked over to the tent's door and peeled back the curtain to reveal him. The coachman's eyes stared down hardheartedly at him, his posture visibly stiffening with anger as he looked down at Aaron with an indiscernible emotion — indescribable because it was one that Aaron had never seen. The solider had manifested entirely before him, cold and reticent, but candidly enraged by the girl's death. Aaron barely recognized him, the Abraham he knew seldom letting his more callous emotions slip in front of him.
"Where is he, Aaron," the ex-confederate growled out lowly. Aaron's blinked in confusion at his adoptive patriarch. From what he could recall, he never gave any indication that he knew the Gray Man and the boy had ever met. He had questioned him at the National, but when he had, had no idea about the existence of the man until he had met Sallie. So how did he know he had met him? Or was it just merely speculation? Abraham never told him the extent of his military life, just that he wished to recant the sinful deeds, but perhaps his training had made him skilled in detecting unspoken information without much effort of interrogation on his part. Maybe, Abraham hadn't known until he saw Aaron reacting towards Sallie's broken form.
The solider inclined his head towards the boy, his stony and disquieting demeanor made Aaron shrink under his stare as if he was a mouse corned by an eagle. Finney stepped forward to protest but was stopped by Abraham's hand moving towards him to stop him all the while, never breaking eye contact with his adopted child. The doctor stopped but watched the two closely in silence.
"I can see it in your face, son," Abraham prodded his tone and expression still stern towards the boy. "So, gonna ask you again: what happened?"
For a moment, Aaron could have sworn he saw the confederate's features soften enough for Aaron to discern that the Abraham he knew still remained under the surface of the hardened soldier before him. Perhaps the man was hoping that he was merely thinking irrationally, and the Aaron had no idea what had happened or had no involvement.
Coming to that realization sent panic flooding through the boy even worse than stumbling upon the scene in the tent. Earlier this morning, he had a difficult decision to make. He had thought he had managed to avoid telling the man, that it had fluttered away into the wind, and Aaron and Abraham could have moved on with their lives. However, the difficult decision had not relented, and Aaron found himself this time, unable to avoid answering or even postponing the truth.
This time, there was nothing he could do but pick a crossroad to traverse down. His decision was perilous though; it was either tell Abraham what had happened, and witness the soldier finally liberate himself from Abraham's moral barricade, or try and choose the road that Abraham had tried to walk Aaron down, and use the law to get justice. He could tell Finney who he was, and the lawmen of Atchison would no doubt bring him in to stand trial; an easy conviction and noose. The same protocol that Abraham had tried when they were after his father for his mother's death. But this time, the decision was his.
He wanted revenge for Sallie — it could have been him on the cot.
But he also wanted Abraham.
"Please tell me, Aaron," the coachman whispered to him, imploring him to disclose what they both knew— or what Abraham thought he did.
Finney, almost undetectable, shook his head at Aaron; pleading him silently not to.
The boy gulped, looking at Abraham, mutely begging him to not force him to make a choice no matter how much hatred he held for Bauchau. However, the soldier did not acquiesce and waited with a hand now resting on his Griswold— itching to use on the atrocious old man.
"Tell me."
Aaron felt tears prick out the corner of his eyes, stinging and blinding him as he hung his head away from Abraham's visage. The blonde-haired kid could still feel his eyes on him, scrutinizing him with each passing second he withheld and it weighed him as if he had ghostly hands pushing down on his shoulders, trying to bury him into the sand of his own guilt.
With as much strength as he could muster, but despondent tears streaming down his face, he looked to his guardian and finally gave his answer.