Yay! Another review!!
Oh, wait, the disclaimer. . . Idon'townTrigun.
I wasn't planning on writing more tonight, as my head is sleepy, and my eyes are complaining that open is bad, but I GOT A REVIEW!! (Ok, I know I'm getting just a little too excited here, I'm sorry, I'm sleep deprived.)
So, let's see if I can make this coherent. . .
********************************************************************
Night fell, slowly creeping from the east, but the light of the moons was enough to continue to travel by. As the sun slipped over the horizon, the colors of the sky were painted in colors more vivid then any she had ever seen. She tried not to think much, but allowed the motions of her running to lull her into a state of meditation. Each stride brought with it a sense of peace, each motion brought a feeling of calm that she didn't wish to break. She could let her mind wander without having to worry about what she thought. With her emotions tied up in the motion across the desert she was free from their restrictions.
And who could blame her for trying to leave her emotions behind? If she tried to make sense out of the past day, every thought would lead itself to worry. Knives hunting her was not a happy thought. An insane, obsessive enemy with anger management problems following her could cause problems in her new life. She'd hate to have to try and fight him when he wasn't underestimating her. She had no illusions that she could manage his level of power. Of course, running away wasn't really the answer to the problem he posed, but it gave her some time to try to find one.
Along with an answer to Knives, she needed to figure out what she wanted to do now. She had no purpose here, no direction, no attachments. There was a great deal of peace in those thoughts. All that she had done, all that she had been in her past could not reach her here. All that could harm her from there was what she had brought with her; her fears, her training, herself. She didn't know if she was strong enough to overcome much of what had scarred her before, but she was grateful that she had been given a blank page in a new book on which to write her life. She had been given a chance, and the fighter in her drove her to try to win out over her past.
Her gratitude overflowed her heart, and she wished a prayer of thanks to Dream Dancer for giving her a chance to live where those who had hurt her before could never reach her again. Maybe this world wouldn't have been her first choice to live on, but it could have been worse. Now she only had to deal with what they had done to her, which wouldn't be easy, but it might be possible for her to happy someday, now.
She pulled one of the ration bars out of the bag and broke off a bite. Sticking it in her mouth, she absently tried to chew it, or at least worry a small piece off of a corner. It didn't even taste bad, which surprised her. It didn't taste good, but not tasting bad made it better then any other ration bad she had choked down before. She uncorked the canteen and took a swallow of water, holding it in her mouth to try to soften the bar. Ruminating is always easier when you have something to chew on.
But what to do now? The question nagged at her, intruding on her thoughts when she tried to think of ration bars and food. What was there on this world? She wracked her brain for answers but came up with little. Insurance agents, psychos, outlaws, sheriffs, water barons, bartenders, bounty hunters, bus drivers, café owners. . . Hmm. Nothing that appealed to her. Nothing she'd likely be good at, either. She didn't think her old skills would be much called for on this world, which made her glad.
She had received the impression that most of the towns were very close-knit, kin and friends and enemies living in the same place their entire lives. Strangers weren't likely to find a very warm reception when looking for work. Or if they were allowed to work, they wouldn't be easily allowed into a social circle, and without a group of people to care about what happened to her, she would be tempting prey for the type of person who likes to hurt others.
And she didn't want to live in a small town. Everyone knowing everything about every neighbor just wasn't for her. She didn't want to still be the new girl twenty years after settling down. She had lived without truly belonging to a community long enough.
She wasn't sure if a city would be a good idea, either. Knives had already shown he was capable of blowing up a city or two. Sure, it had been Vash who physically released the energy, but Knives had been pulling the strings. And if Vash could do something like that, it stood to reason his brother could as well. Looking up at the crater on the fifth moon, she wondered if she could bring herself to risk so many lives. Life was short and dangerous here already; she didn't need to add to its troubles.
She didn't even know if she wanted to settle down. This was a whole new world, just begging to be explored. Maybe it was pretty much all desert, but it was new to her. She didn't know how long it would take her to tire of seeing a new world, but she didn't want to settle before she was ready.
She finally finished the bite of bar, and decided that it was time to sleep. She spied a nice looking patch of rocks and stopped. She curled up in their shadow, punched the backpack until it resembled a pillow, and propped the canteen up against a rock by her head. She checked the seal of the cap, making sure it couldn't leak out when she slept. The aches of the run were commonplace to her, and she barely noticed them, but now that she had quit running her shoulder began to throb. Endorphins were the only pain reliever she had, and now that she was too tired to keep going they were wearing off. She gingerly felt at her shoulder, but didn't press the joint. It had loosened during her run, but was still swollen and painful to the touch. She grimaced, but as there wasn't anything she could do for it, she tried to ignore the throbbing. Preparations finished, she curled up on her side and fell asleep.
*******************************************************************************
Her estimation of how long it would take Knives to get out of the room was a bit off. Knives woke up fighting mad, and he continued to batter himself into insensibility as he tried to open the door.
Finally, sense won out over anger. It was his fourth awakening before he thought about the problem before attacking the door. Knives, possessing an inhuman intelligence, was able to figure out that he would have better results if he tried to short out the lock. Moments later he pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway, a crazed look filling his eyes. He glanced quickly to the right and the left, then turned to the left and went back to the monitor room. Twelve hours had passed since she had locked him in that room, but he didn't doubt his ability to find the girl and make her pay for what she had done to him.
He paused as he reached the entrance to the monitor room. He didn't remember turning off the lights. Cautiously he tried to sense if the woman was in the room. He didn't feel her, but who knew what she could do? She was impossible, and it was best to be cautious. He stepped aside from the door so his silhouette wouldn't be framed against the light. A slow hand crept in and flicked on the light. He whirled, ducking through the door in a crouch, and rolled to the far wall. Quick as thought he regained his feet and scanned the room.
Nothing. But she had been here.
Feeling slightly foolish, he approached the bank of monitors. He accessed the menu of entered commands and saw what she had looked for. A map of the ship seemed logical enough, but why did she need one of the area around the ship? Unless. . . He pulled up the map and manipulated the scale until it was where she had stopped it. He looked closely at the monitor and saw where her finger had rested.
He felt smug. The little smudge was going to be that bitch's downfall. He knew where she was headed now, and would get there before she could leave. A momentary thought plagued him. She might have had some sort of vehicle hidden around, giving her greater mobility. On further reflection he dismissed the notion. Most likely, he would have found it when he was scanning the area earlier. Also, she would not likely have been stealing supplies if she had some form of transportation nearby.
No, it was most likely she was on foot and heading towards the nearest town. He would go there tomorrow morning and drag her back here, where he could interrogate her at his leisure. Her little tricks would not work on him again. No human could hope to win against such a superior being. The sooner she realized that fighting him was hopeless he would break her, and learn just how she got in his ship, how she evaded his mind attacks, and just how she had managed to trap him in that damn room.
Satisfied, he left the record of what she had done on the computer and pulled up the video of what she had done once she left him unconscious. He watched her fumble with the system for only a minute or two, then move through the menus with ease. Her impatience was obvious, from the line of her shoulder to the tilt of her head, to the rhythm of fingers on the table to the speed with which she absorbed the data she brought up. He watched her pause, her body tensing for a moment and then relaxing, then saw her draw up the map of the surrounding area.
It took her only a moment to place her finger on the closest town, and as soon as she had, she shut down the program and left the room. He watched her exit the ship, and run off towards the closest town. Satisfied, he restarted the video. Any clues to her behavior would make it easier for him in the end. He watched her fumble for a minute, learning the system, and watched her pull up a map of the ship.
Suddenly, he sat up straight in his chair and restarted the video. He watched her fumble with the computer system for a minute, and as she began to access the ship menu he paused the feed and sat back, deep in thought.
She hadn't known how to access the computer system. She learned quickly. These two facts did not go well together. There were few vermin on this planet who knew how to operate computers. Most of those were from the Last Ship, the one that had crashed when he had sent the Gung Ho Guns after Vash. The system on his ship was exactly the same, so none of them would have had any problem starting it.
And no one else on this planet would know how to use a computer. The vermin were very technology poor; but for the monitors on the enslaved plants there were no computer systems. The vermin had mostly forgotten how to use even those, and in any case, they were also the same as the ones in his ship. Where did she learn to use and recognize a computer, and yet not know how the only computers on this planet operated?
Knives began to wonder if there was some strange conspiracy afoot, involving more then this one girl. If that were the case, he would need to find out their goals, and see if they were able to be co-opted to his plans as the Gung Ho Guns had been.
This was beginning to look even more interesting then before. He closed down the computer system, still looking at her face as it slowly faded from the monitor.
Soon, he thought.
********************************************************************************
She walked into town around noon. She had overslept a bit and had woken with the dawn, but the town before her seemed normal enough. There was none of the unnatural hush that she expected would have fallen over the town if Knives had arrived before her. A bit of tension eased itself from her shoulders, but enough remained for her to still feel uneasy. She had only figured out her next step that morning, and was unsure as to the feasibility of her plan.
As she walked through the dusty streets she noticed every glance that lingered on her, and she wondered why. Did she look that out of place here? She knew she was dressed oddly for the area, but her jeans and sweatshirt were not entirely out of place. Was it just because she was a stranger? Was it because of the direction from which she entered town? She had a strong suspicion that not much traffic came from the area of Knives' ship, but circling the town to enter from another direction wasn't much of an option, either. Someone might have spotted her creeping about and wondered why, or she might have to deal with people who should have seen her on the road, but hadn't.
So she strode in from the wrong side of town, her head held high, her stride betraying little of the weariness of her journey. And people looked, and wondered at the woman who walked so confidently, and wondered where she had come from, and why she was here. No one guessed at how worried she was, or how nervous. Her demeanor was cold and proper as she moved purposefully through the town, looking neither left nor right, not pausing or looking as if she were unfamiliar with the area. Her assured walk led some to believe they had seen her before, as she seemed to know exactly where she was going, and no stranger would be able to find their way about so confidently.
She, however, had no confidence in her ability to find what she was looking for. The section of town she had entered was full of homes and shops, but she was looking for an inn of some sort. She was trying to find some place where she could get both food and lodging for a night before heading out of town again. If she could just convince someone to let her work for room and board. . .
She worried that she wasn't going to be able to find someplace that would hire her for a night. Her water was gone, and although she still had ration bars left, they weren't very filling, and for all they were nutritious, her stomach was pleading with her for something with just a little more presence to it.
The street she was on opened up to a square. In the middle was a fountain, and while she was thirsty, she passed it by. No one else was drinking from it, and she didn't want to draw attention to herself. Also, there was just the sort of place she was looking for on the other side. It was clean and tidy on the outside, which boded well for the sort of person who was running the inn.
She stepped in the door, automatically stepping to the side so she wouldn't be backlit while waiting for her eyes to adjust. What she saw gave her even more hope; the place was clean and tidy, and the current patrons seemed to be well-behaved. There were neither more nor fewer tables then the place could seat comfortably, and the floors were clean and freshly swept. The place smelled of alcohol and dust, but that wasn't so bad. The whole planet smelled of dust.
She walked up to the counter and set her backpack down by her leg.
"I'm wondering if you might have some work for the night," she asked the man behind the bar.
He looked up from the books he was balancing, saw her, and looked more closely.
"What sort of work are you looking for?" he asked.
"The type that comes with food and a bed as payment. I'm not picky." She stared him in the eye, not challenging, but honest.
"Can you tend bar?" he asked, not warming to her, but not turning her away yet, either.
"Depends on what you need. I know how to mix most drinks, and I can pour a pint without spilling the head," she said.
"Tell me how you make a Bolero," he said.
"1 1/2 oz Light Rum, 3/4 oz Apple Brandy, 1/4 tsp Sweet Vermouth, and Ice," she shot back without a pause.
"Good." He smiled, and extended his hand. She took it, and he said, "I need some time to look these over." He indicated the books on the bar with his right hand. "Something just isn't adding quite up, and I need more time to go over them then I get each night. You take the bar, and I'll give you lunch, dinner, and a room, if I have one, which I probably will. A pretty little thing like you shouldn't have too much trouble with the men, but if any give you too much of a hard time, call for Geoff, the cook. He's in the kitchen, behind that door over there," and he pointed over her right shoulder, "he'll make sure none of them do anything to you."
He was shaking her hand all through his little speech. She smiled at his enthusiasm, and her good fortune, and said, "If I need him, I'll call."
"Good. Can you start right now? I'll send Geoff out with your lunch; you can get to know him." At her nod he waved her behind the counter and left towards the kitchen. She watched the door close behind him, then picked up her backpack and ducked under the counter. She took off her canteen and shoved both into a corner. She looked at her dusty hands and grimaced, looked around, and spied a sink. She found a wet towel that had already been used to wipe down the bar and wiped most of the dirt off her hands. She rinsed it in the sink, then wiped down her face and neck, enjoying the coolness against her skin.
Still thirsty, she picked a glass off of one of the shelves, then froze as she saw her reflection in the mirror behind. Her left hand came slowly up and traced a line down the side of her face. She watched her reflection do the same, but it seemed so unreal. Unwilling to be seen staring at herself, she tore her eyes away, but her mind stayed on what she had seen.
She was missing a scar. She wanted to turn back and lose herself in her reflection, but her fear of acting abnormal kept her at the sink. She could still vividly remember the pain of how she received the scar, the terror of that night, and the reactions she received from people when they saw it. It had come to be a part of how she defined herself, and it was gone. Dream Dancer must have taken it from her.
Not that she mourned its loss, but it was just another reminder of how far she was from all she had known.
She realized that she was still standing in front of the sink, and had yet to fill the glass with water. Blushing faintly at her inattention, she quickly rectified the situation and drank. She held the last mouthful, swishing it around on her tongue, and marveled at how quickly it disappeared into the parched tissues of her cheeks. She set the glass down and turned, ready to do her job.
Not that there was much work for her to do. There were only six people in the room, two groups of threes. She stood, wondering at her good fortune. Something didn't seem right. Maybe she was just being overly suspicious, but things that seemed to good to be true usually were.
It was only a few minutes before Geoff came out of the kitchen with her lunch, and she used them to figure out just where things were. The beer was to her left, the harder alcohol was on the shelves behind her, and the prices for the drinks were posted on the wall above the sink. The cashbox was near her backpack, and seeing this, she nudged her stuff a bit farther away. She didn't want to make the owner nervous.
She wondered why he had decided to trust her with the money. People didn't trust complete strangers with their cash, at least not in her experience. Maybe she looked a bit more trustworthy without her scar, but she didn't think that was the reason. She had been expecting to be put to work fixing the roof or something along those lines, not tending the bar. Things not going as she expected made her uneasy.
She didn't get to brood long enough to figure out an answer before Geoff interrupted her thoughts.
"Here's your lunch, missy," he called out as he entered the room.
She looked over and smiled. He was a big man, heavily muscled, but with a layer of fat that suggested he ate more of his cooking then he should. His short hair was grizzled, and his face was lined with character. His eyes twinkled as he set her lunch down before her, and the accompanying grin showed straight white teeth. If anyone deserved to be liked on sight, he did. Despite her reservations about what was going on, she wanted to like him.
She smiled back, but wasted no time picking up the fork and testing the food.
"Mmm," she responded, attacking the plate. It didn't take long for most of the food to be gone, but Geoff stayed to watch her eat.
"It does a man good to see his food appreciated," he said when she looked up at him inquiringly.
"Oh, it is. This is some of the best I've eaten," she said after swallowing. She put the fork down and looked him in the eye. "My compliments to the cook."
"The cook appreciates the compliments. You look like it's been a while since you've seen food," he mused.
"I've seen food," she replied, "but it's been nowhere as good as this. I really got lucky, finding a job here."
"Sure did. But John's a good guy. Seeing a gal like you, looking a little down on her luck, well, he needed a day off anyway."
"I'm glad I could help him out; he seems like a nice enough guy. A little enthusiastic, but nice."
"That's him, right enough." He paused, and she resumed eating what remained on the plate.
"What brings you here? Looks like you've had a bit of a journey," he asked, casually.
She stopped, the fork caught halfway between the plate and her mouth. "A gentleman would not pry into a lady's affairs, and a wise man wouldn't ask about things that don't concern him. Are you a fool or a cad?" she responded coolly.
"No, no," he said, his hands pushing away the question, trying to placate her. "I won't ask, I won't. You just look like someone's been pushing you around, is all. Thought maybe we could help."
"I appreciate that, I do," she said, trying to put a little warmth in her voice. There was no reason to suspect him of anything, but she'd seen too much to believe in innocent questions. It really was probably nothing more then concern on his part, she reasoned to herself. "If I thought you could help, I might take you up on that, but I'm afraid all I need from you is some food and a bed." She realized how cold that sounded, but didn't want to try to explain herself. The less he knew the better, and she didn't even want to try to edit her story into something he might believe.
"If you come up with anything we can do, just let us know, ok? The boss and I, well, we just don't like to see a pretty gal in such a heap of trouble, you know?" He smiled at her, trying to catch her eye.
She pushed away the finished plate and he picked it up. Looking him in the eye, she said, "If I think of anything, I'll let you know." And if she could think of anything, anything she needed that he might give her, that wouldn't end up getting him killed if Knives found out, well, she would ask. But it didn't seem like she'd be thinking of anything soon.
He nodded, winked at her, and went back to the kitchen. Left alone again, she started to brood, picking up where she had left off. Her instincts were nagging her, telling her that she needed to look more closely at her surroundings. Something wasn't right in this inn. Her gaze moved across the room, carefully looking at everything.
The two groups of people were seated on either side of the room, but both were well back from the door. The tables were laid out so it would be difficult for anyone to rush the people at the tables. Carefully, she examined the men out of the corner of her eye. The group to her left seemed to be gambling, but the play was subdued, and the chips were still evenly distributed between the players. The group to her right appeared to be deep into a discussion of some deep philosophical impact, but the hand of the one farthest from the door kept creeping towards his gun, touching it, and darting away.
After seeing that, she saw that all of them had their guns near to hand. They were waiting for trouble, she knew it. She frowned quickly, more of a ripple across her brow then a tensing of her lips. What was going on here?
A shadow fell across the doorway, and her eyes went instantly to the door. Another group of three men came in, and one headed to the bar while the other two sat off to the right. She saw the exchanged glances and nods, and interpreted them as the man walked her way.
Hi.
Hi.
Who is she?
Dunno.
Trust?
Don't.
She wondered just what it was she had gotten in to now. Wasn't her life interesting enough?
"Howdy, miss," the man said.
She stifled a giggle. Howdy? "What can I do for you?" she asked.
"Three beers, please," he said.
"That will be $$7, please," she replied. He put the money on the counter as she filled the mugs.
"Here you go," she said, smiling, as she handed him the beer and picked up the money.
"Thank you, ma'am." He turned and left, and she noted that no one at his table sat with their backs to the door, either. She ducked to put the money in the cash box, and so missed the entrance of the man they had been waiting for.
It didn't take her long to figure out she was missing something important. She had no more than lifted the top of the cashbox when she heard a shout from the direction of the table that the new men had sat at. She dropped the money and peeked her head over the counter.
Some oddly dressed man in gray had entered and was aiming at the man who had shouted. As she watched, he shot him. The man flew back from the impact and hit the wall six feet behind him. Peripherally, she saw the men at the other tables knock them over and take aim.
She'd seen enough. She dropped to her knees behind the counter, her mind moving through options at great speed. She couldn't see anything at hand to use as a weapon, or at least not one that would do much good. The glasses were all on the shelves behind the bar. She didn't want to be seen reaching for a weapon; the bar would be scant protection if a shot came her way. She knew there was nothing in her bag, there was nothing under the sink. . . Her eyes darted about the small area she found herself in, looking, looking. . .
There. A spool of twine, obviously intended to wrap parcels for the post lay to the left of her knee. She quickly measured off two lengths, broke them off, and tied a slip knot on one end of each. While her hands were occupied with this task, she listened to the firefight in front of her.
She heard a shot come from the group of philosophical drinkers, and it was met with another from the strange man who had entered and started this mess. She heard a cry of pain that proceeded to become a wail. Next came two shots from the gamblers, and another shot from the stranger. No one cried out, and as her fingers finished the knots she wondered if everyone in this stupid inn was a horrible shot.
She rose from behind the bar, swinging the twine lasso-style, and as her eyes focused on the man before her, she assessed her chances of success, judged them good enough, and threw. She wouldn't have given her improvised plan more then one chance in three of success, but as she relaxed into the throw she knew it would work. The man wasn't looking her direction, having dismissed her as not a threat, if he had realized she was there at all. His back was turned towards her as he was beginning to aim at the man he had shot near the door. His gun was almost perpendicular, and a grin pulled itself back from her teeth as she saw victory.
The first loop of twine settled nicely around the barrel of the gun, and a quick yank tore it out of his unsuspecting hand. He didn't have time to react before the second loop was settling around his neck, and after she tugged that one tight as well he had better things to complain about. His hands reached up to his neck, but as soon as she had tugged the loop tight around his neck she was vaulting over the counter. She passed by the gun, launching herself instead at the man as he tried to get his fingers under the twine while turning her way.
He didn't have time to prepare for her attack. She tackled him to the floor, making sure that he hit his head hard on the floor. While he was dazed, she hit him again, once on the temple to knock him out, and twice in the body because she was pissed. She heard a noise at the door and flipped on her back, reaching for his gun behind her. Almost as soon as her fingers closed around the butt she had it aimed between her knees at the noise. She stayed in that position, knees inches from the floor, feet to either side of her, her back elevated only six inches from the floor, both hands gripping the gun and aimed at a shadow until she saw hands reaching for the air.
She shifted the gun to one hand and quickly scrambled to her feet, not taking her eyes off the shadow. She motioned for him to get out of the light, and as he complied she saw that it was Geoff, the cook. Only now he had on a nice, bright, shiny star and seemed to be the sheriff. Figured.
Noise rushed in as she took in her new surroundings. She saw the tables that had been thrown about the room in a futile effort to provide some sort of cover. She saw the holes that had been punched in the adobe walls. There were more of them then she thought there would be. She didn't remember that many shots being fired, her eyes counting the holes. Seventeen, and she could only remember nine. Finally she saw the men who had been shot, the screams of one assailing her ears, the whimpers of one drowned out by the other man but still evident on his face, and the final man who did nothing at all.
Damn. She hated it when people died.
She clicked on the safety and tucked the butt of the gun into the waistband of her jeans. She loosened the twine from the outlaw's neck before he suffocated, then used it to tie him up. Satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere, she got up and moved over to the man who was screaming. His friends were trying to staunch the flow of blood from his shoulder, but they weren't having much luck. The pulsing of the blood meant that an artery had been nicked, and it was only a matter of minutes until he bled out. Unless she helped.
"Move," she said, suiting actions to words as she pushed one of his friends out of the way. She opened her mind and looked at the wound. There, there was the biggest problem. The artery hadn't been nicked, it had lost a whole chunk. She plunged her fingers into the wound, ignoring the howls of the wounded man, and manipulated the ends of the artery until they met. She encouraged them to grow, and was welcomed by the sensation of the ends becoming one whole under her fingertips. Once that was done, she carefully moved her fingers away and checked the rest of the wound.
It looked like it would heal without her help. As long as it didn't get infected, that is, but there wasn't much she could do about that. The man finally passed out right before her hand exited his wound. The dirty looks his friends were giving her changed to ones of incredulity when they saw that he was no longer in danger of bleeding out. She continued to ignore them, and absently wiped her hand on the floor before getting up and going to the other wounded man.
He wasn't as grievously hurt, but a bullet had entered his left arm and not come back out. She took a corner of his vest and wiped down her hand, then put her fingers in the wound. He screamed, but she didn't let that bother her. She moved the fragments of the bullet to her fingertips and pulled them out, one by one until there were none left. Satisfied, she absently patted the man on the right shoulder and stood up. She turned to get a drink of water, and bumped into Geoff.
Her eyes found his, and there was little left in them that was friendly. His previously warm brown eyes were now dark as coal, but she met them calmly.
"Who the hell are you, and just what the hell are you doing?" he asked, his voice cold and dead.
"I'm Kiley, and I'm just doing what needed to be done," she replied, pushing past him.
He tried to grab her shoulder, but she slipped out of his grasp. She lightly vaulted over the counter again, and he was forced to either clamber over it after her or go down to the other end where most people entered. He chose to keep his dignity, and she had a chance to get her glass of water. Her bloody fingerprints caught her eye as she set the glass down on the bar, but she didn't have time to linger over their meaning. Geoff had reached her, and forcefully pushed her into a corner.
Kiley pushed back. The strength in her body surprised Geoff. He was used to people being a bit more cowed when he started threatening them. This strange woman was not behaving in any way he understood. He quelled the urge to push back, realizing that it wasn't a good idea, but his anger at this female was pushed up another notch.
"Just who the hell do you think you are?" he growled at her.
She looked at him, saying nothing. He got the feeling that she was keeping quiet just to see how well he could hold his temper. He stared at her, watching her face. It gave away little. There was weariness there, and sadness. It wasn't what he had been expecting.
Meeting her eyes, looking at them instead of trying to stare her into submission, he saw something he didn't expect. There was actually grief lurking in the depths of her gaze, and as he saw it there he calmed himself.
Kiley waited until the sheriff was in a mood to listen to what she had to say. "I think I'm the person who saved the lives of the men in this room. That's who I am. And if you think I'm going to listen to someone yell at me for doing that, you are mistaken." Her voice was calm, level, as if she hadn't just disarmed a man with a $$50,000 bounty on his head with packing twine, and then stuck her hands in the bodies of the men the outlaw had shot. Her voice was calm like she had done this sort of thing before.
He thought on what he had seen, and about the person he saw before him, and wondered just where she had come from, and where she had learned to do what she just did. He had thought she was working with the outlaw, checking out the inn before the man came in to kill John. That's why he had sent in a few more boys, to make sure that there were enough people on hand to cover the situation if she had started trouble.
He had been so sure she was one of the bad guys. Staring at herself in the mirror was a sure sign of a guilty conscience, he had thought. The faint bruise on her cheek and the way she was favoring her shoulder had him wondering if she had been "persuaded" to go along with the plan, which was why he had offered to help. When she had indicated that she was in trouble too deep for him to help, he had been positive she was working for the Grey Man.
Then she took him down, stopped Lem from dying from blood loss, and somehow pulled the shrapnel from Danny's wound. He wondered what trouble was so bad a girl like this would be running from it. No wonder she hadn't accepted his help; it wasn't that she didn't need it, but what he could provide was nothing she couldn't already do on her own.
Kiley had just watched Geoff's face as he came to his conclusions. When he looked at her again, she gave a small sigh of relief. The sheriff had come to all the right conclusions, and it looked like she wasn't going to get into even more trouble. Which was good, because she didn't need everyone on this planet chasing after her.
"So now that you realize I'm not the bad guy here, what are you going to do?" she asked him.
"Me?" he said, surprised. "Lady, you're the one who bagged herself $$50,000 worth of bounty; it's me who's wondering what you'll be doing with it!"
Kiley blinked. The man had a bounty on his head? Now the whole attempt at trapping the outlaw made sense. These men had wanted the money. She had saved their lives, but had taken the windfall away. Now some of the resentful glances she had seen made sense.
"I don't have the time to wait for the money," she said. At Geoff's shocked look her mouth quirked and she continued. "Why don't you give me some of what you have on you, and when the bounty comes in you can keep it."
"We don't have anywhere near that sort of money in this town," he protested. "I don't think we could even get $$2000 scraped together."
"That's enough for me," she said. "Any more, and I'd just have trouble carrying it around."