3

"Why do I still have to switch into this getup whenever we head into a town?" Sasha griped.

"You know why." Maggie and Rosita snickered but wiped their faces clear when she glared at them.

"You don't wear one."

"I don't often go into town, now do I." Michonne shrugged.

"But when you do, you usually don't wear one. I don't think that's fair."

"Let's not forget you are wanted. Anything to make you look different then the posters." Andrea added in while fixing her hair.

"That is true." Michonne agreed. "You're the one that wanted to take the risk of being seen for runs. This is the cost."

"Sash, just put the damn thing on so we can go. I'm already sweating in this dress." Maggie whined.

"Fine, but I don't have to like it."

Sasha grabbed her dress and climbed in the prairie schooner for privacy to change.

Rick sat on his log with his hands bound while the women moved about, primping for the trip into a nearby town. He knew he should just count his lucky stars that he was still alive the day after meeting this band of women but, they were so interesting. Like watching a performance from one of those traveling carnivals. Not in a joking way, but in a mystical way.

He'd only seen and heard of madams, select prostitutes and bewildered widows traveling with their children taking advantage of these perilous opportunities or misfortunes. One that most women wouldn't ever consider without menfolk. Rick was getting to observe something he'd never thought he'd see. Something he didn't think existed. A group of strong, confident and attractive women that somehow found one another in this big world and decided to set out together. To what end, he was aiming to find out.

His mind was a plenty with questions and he hoped they would be revealed to him in time, but he couldn't help but interrupt when he realized Michonne wasn't trading her pants for a dress. She wouldn't be going with them. Of course, he expected someone had to stay and watch over him. And he had to admit he was pleased but also nervous that it was her. But, his curiosity was already peaked from his initial glimpse of her.

"Sorry to interrupt, but shouldn't you all be asking if she'll be alright here with me? All alone?" he used his chin to motion at Michonne who ignored him completely. The women burst out laughing and she just drank her coffee and ate her breakfast as though he hadn't even spoken.

"I guess that answers my question." Rick sighed deflated before Rosita came to stand in front of him.

"Pendejo, you should be asking if you'll be alive to see us return."

The women all wore stern faces and nodded their agreement. Rick looked to Michonne but her face remained the same as before, unbothered.

He would love to think the soreness of his back and the newly forming blisters on his fingers granted him a reprieve from the murder considerations. It took him hours to dig the huge, deep gravesite then drag all the bodies into it. He was about to cover the bodies with dirt when he was reminded of the ones out yonder. Michonne and Maggie got on their horses and made him walk through the woods to retrieve the other bodies for burial. When it was all said and done, he was so exhausted that he was ready to pass out. He was grateful for being offered food and water. And the women also cared for his Mustang.

Rick was prepared to simply sleep on the hard ground but they gave him an old bedroll. And even put a rope around him so the snakes wouldn't get him while he laid near the fire. He assumed the women took turns watching over him as he slept from the hushed conversations he heard before sleep took him. Yes, these were reasonable women he decided. Killing him unceremoniously couldn't possibly be an option anymore.

Michonne finished her breakfast of cornmeal just as Sasha came out from changing. She had also pinned her hair up into a bouffant to more match the style required for her trip. Michonne couldn't help but to snicker as her friend mumbled to herself while she joined Maggie, Rosita and Andrea. She watched them as they began to walk to their horses feeling Rick's eyes on her the whole time.

"I think you should take the wagon. You'll be getting quite a bit of things." Michonne discreetly spoke.

The women understood when they saw Rick's eyes on her and Andrea spoke up. "You're right and it helps with the ruse."

"Good, riding sidesaddle in this get up would just bring me to the hilt of my patience." Sasha complained.

The women took any items out that may draw suspicion but were careful to leave enough behind. This would also lighten the load so they'd have space. They did this all while their captive's watchful eyes stayed on them but mostly their leader. They discreetly hid weapons on varying parts of their bodies, leaving only a couple visible to the naked eye. Without another word, Sasha and Rosita climbed inside while Andrea and Maggie sat on the buckboard. The latter taking the reins and off they went towards the town, leaving Michonne and Rick at the campsite.

"Sasha knows it's illegal for woman to wear men's clothes, especially in towns?"

Michonne fought the desire to frown at Rick from his familiar use of her friend's name. But his awareness taught her more about him. "She knows. We all know."

"That's just asking for trouble. What makes her like to fight?"

"What makes anyone like to fight."

"Usually the threat of death keeps most from it."

Michonne stared at the stranger. "Says someone who came running towards it, just yesterday."

She noticed a miniscule change in Rick's demeanor. He'd given up a detail he hadn't intended with his own line of questioning. Something he was maybe ashamed of now and didn't want to admit even to himself. Going in alone meant one was ready to die. His charge in yesterday proved that, but then he bargained for his life with her group, differing that.

A random lone man coming up on a group of women he claimed to want to help usually had a short list of things in mind. None of which her and her girls were interested in providing. Dispatching a stray would've been easy. Once she made eye contact with them, their dark deceptions would be readily available to her. Climbing off her horse to get a closer look at this man wasn't something she expected to need. But his blue eyes held a strain that he wanted to be released from. She'd know the look anywhere, even though it wasn't often encountered. Understanding, acceptance and perhaps, some unrealized connection, electrified from his soul to hers.

This mysterious man was becoming a curiosity to her in such a short period of time after rushing into their lives. Conflicting her as to whether she should indulge any longer than necessary. Nonetheless, once he collapsed from all the hard labor he volunteered for, she used the time to search through his things. He carried the usual items for survival on the plains but also multiple weapons. Amongst them a red handled machete, an axe, a six shooter and rifle. He was low on ammo, making his charge in even more precarious.

Even without personal effects such as a picture protecting locket, a pocket watch or some other trinket, she still could interpret things about him. The lighter line on his finger meant he was once married, lived where a wedding band was not only affordable but easy to wear in daily life. He wasn't a recent immigrant from Ireland or Sweden, his country drawl too deep and had to have been passed down from at least two generations. He wasn't no Yankee.

He traveled alone like a castoff but he didn't seem too mad. His current situation meant he surely wasn't lucky. This man had to be smart, capable and knowledgeable. Able to handle himself in any circumstance the wilds would throw at him to go it alone. No, he wasn't a yellowbelly.

Michonne tried to not look him over much since that initial inspection. Now, she chanced it again to attain more detail. He didn't wear bat wings, meaning he wasn't accustomed to cattle herding from the Spanish. But his dark jeans were well worn in and scuffed in places. Dark blue shirt was weathered to a few shades lighter than it probably was when acquired. She'd handled his Stetson with the chunk missing from the edge yesterday but, he also wisely had a handkerchief around his neck for the dust kicked up. His leather boots had scuffs and scraps showing these must have been his favorite and only pair.

He wore it all well just to see him. Then when she saw him take a step as Rosita prodded him to the log yesterday, she had to admit her temperature rose all the more. His curved legs and confident strides had her flustered. That surge that coursed through her when their eyes locked was a first. He was handsome even with his skin tanned and maybe a bit weathered by the sun. His beard thick and bushy. Long curls kept the nape of his neck cool from the heat of the day. Her mind about to wander into deeper thoughts of his body when he thankfully disrupted.

"What are they going into town for that requires the wagon?"

"Stuff."

Rick smirked. "Yeah, I figured. Stuff and thangs."

"What's it to you?"

"It's nothing. But I figured if we are gonna be here together, all alone we might as well get to know one another."

Michonne chuckled in spite of his continuous mentions of them being alone aggravating her. "What makes you think I'm interested in doing that?"

"Well, you haven't killed me. Which means you must trust me to some degree since you stayed behind with me by yourself."

Unexpectedly, Michonne pulled her saber from its scabbard and held it up, the rising sun glimmered off the blade. She examined it like she was in awe of it before she looked to Rick seeing the shift to unease on his face.

"I'm sure you are used to men running their outfits differently. They use their people as cover for themselves. I, on the other hand take care of my girls."

She walked to him menacingly as she spoke until she reached close enough to place the tip under his now raised chin. She watched him hastily swallow, happy to have changed his perception of the situation. He was the captive and just because she was being humane, she didn't want him to get any ideas.

"I don't trust you, but I've kept you here with them. I have to bear the burden, not them. If you do anything I don't like. Anything at all. I want you to make no mistake, I will drop you where you stand." she looked him over.

"Or where you sit."

Rick swallowed unwillingly since the blade was still pressed to him. "Fair enough."

Michonne stepped away, examining her weapon as though it simply touching him would somehow have damaged it. She went back to complete tasks that would keep Rick in her field of vision. His slightly tenser posture appeased her while she cleaned up from breakfast. Her prisoner hadn't asked, but for a moment she considered his hunger and thirst. The act of feeding him while he was bound felt too…intimate for her liking. She'd have one of the girls do it when they returned.

She wrapped the edge of her hairline with a bandana to keep the perspiration at bay as the sun rose in the sky. She contemplated, for a moment, allowing Rick his hat for shade but he sat as though his captivity was somehow comfortably reduced from his norm. So much at ease that Michonne's comeback only quieted him for a short time before he pressed on, making her huff in exasperation.

"You seem mighty skilled with that saber. How did you learn?"

"Maybe a gag is in order." Michonne threatened.

"Sorry, I'm just curious is all. I'm tied up and there's nothing much else to do."

"Worrying about whether I'll kill you should be at the top of the list."

Rick chortled. "You'll kill when you have to but, you're not a murderer. Who knows, I may even be able to help you out."

"And why would I want that?"

Rick chewed his lip and squinted his eyes at the sun before he locked them on Michonne. "I'm trying to figure that out too."

Michonne exhaled at his correctly perceived notion that she considered uses for him. She'd need to learn more about him if she was to draw a correct conclusion so she decided to turn the tables on him. When he spoke about himself, he in advertently bared. "Why east?"

He shrugged with his hands bound on his lap. "Everyone else is going west nowadays."

"Didn't take you for the concrete type." she snarly replied.

"I can be whatever you want. Whatever you need."

He answered with an earnestness that shone from deep in his bright eyes to delve in her brown ones. When Rick bashfully grinned, a warmth set loose in Michonne's belly that she needed to promptly ice over. With her eyes narrowed, she walked to a lidded basket grabbing his hat and a thick strip of cloth then stomped back over. She came to the back of Rick and he didn't protest, just opened his mouth so she could tie the cloth around his head roughly. Then stuffed his hat lopsidedly on his head so his face was hidden from view. As she trudged off, Rick just soundlessly snickered to himself.

He had to admit now with this limited vantage point that he could understand why pants had been deemed a man's garment. Michonne filled hers out in a way a man never could. Rick racked his brain to the logistics that allowed the stiff cloth to be flexible with her movements but taut on her round behind. He chastised himself because he had never been a crass man. He needed to get his mind back on task and the burn of the rope on his wrists gave him just that when he adjusted.

He was pressing his luck and risking his life with every word uttered to this captivating woman but he couldn't help it. He wanted to engage with Michonne more than he did with anyone maybe ever before. He wasn't sure how long their proximity would last. She was clearly annoyed by him but also oddly drawn to him as well. She'd deny it to anyone that had the gall to question it, he knew.

But as Rick saw it, he hadn't had many days where he hankered for something in quite a long while. He might as well indulge himself while he had the chance. But he knew he needed to choose his words more carefully in the future, or else. He didn't want to wake to find himself bound and all alone once again. A realization he allowed to bloom in his chest. Altering the course, he had condemned himself to.