"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference."

- Robert Frost

"Not far now, Aine." I cooed, gently running my frozen hand down the neck of the mare below. We had been on the road for days on end with little more to do than walk. I urge her forward, knowing full well that we both needed rest. The pile of pelts stacked on her behind was no doubt slowing her down. But I hadn't lied, I could already hear the flow of Little Creek River and knew we were fast approaching the safety and warmth of camp. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the fire in front of me, thawing my atrophied fingers. I could smell the stew on the boil. I could feel the fur of my god damn forgotten coat.

It had been a gruelling trip. I'd made a fool's mistake by trusting that the sun was here to stay. It had been the hottest day of the year so far when we had set off in search of stock, hot enough that I'd decided only to bring the bare minimum. We only just made it to the outskirts of Cumberland Forest before the storm hit, and it hit hard. The wildlife took shelter and we had no choice but to follow. Knowing there was no point returning empty handed I'd decided to set up camp beneath the trees and wait it out. And so, wait it out I did...for three days. There were plenty of Rabbits to keep me fed but there was no money to be made in the pelts and I was all too aware of this. I pushed on through the Grizzlies, collecting what I could along the way. Fox, deer, badger...all beautiful, all worthless alone. I needed some big game, I needed something that would keep people buying. It wasn't until I reached Roanoke Valley that my luck changed, but by the time I were finished my hands could barely keep a grip on my bow. But Cripps would be happy.

As the trees of Black Bone Forest parted, a small glow of orange appeared in the distance. Aine whinnied below and picked up the pace, the sight of camp had given us both the boost we oh so needed. Each step became faster, bringing us closer to the fire and the unmistakable sound of the harmonica. Fuelled on the thought of food and rest, the pair of us marched into camp with glee and grit.

"Well look who it is! I was wondering when you'd come back around." Cripps stood to greet us, he reached out a hand and I took it eagerly, almost falling from my saddle.

After giving Aine a grateful pat I dragged my dead feet over to the fire, collapsing in a heap next to the flames. It was painful, the heat on my frozen skin, but I'd take the sting of the fire over the throb of the cold.

"Would you mind-" I started

"Already on it." He interrupted, I watched as he carefully led Aine over to her hitching post, where he fed her, ridded her of the pelts, unsaddled her and brushed away the dirt. I could see the relief wave through her long body, much as the guilt waved through my own. She was a good horse, a loyal companion, and deserved a better life than this. I turned my attention to the stew pot instead, stomach twisting and growling at the thought of a warm meal. Of any meal.

"What's on the menu?"

"Oh, you'll like this one. I'm calling it Drunkards Lunch."

I raised an eyebrow in question and got his toothless smile in response. I didn't want to admit to him that I would have eaten just about anything right now. He filled a bowl and brought it over, I barely managed to say thanks before shovelling it into my mouth. It was bad. But it was hot, and it was food.

"Inventory?" He asked, flipping through the pelts.

"One fox, red. Two deer. Two badgers. Three bighorn rams. Two cougars and a great big ol' bitch of a moose." I reply in between bites, taking pride in how he lit up at the mention of the moose, it had been a nightmare to hunt. They always sell well; rich old ladies liked the fur and rich old men liked the antlers. I'm sure they would be hanging on a wall of a flashy conman's home in no time.

"Well, didn't you do well..."

"Had to go all the way up to Annesburg, but it turned out okay. Wasn't the only one after the big fella," I said between mouthfuls "Those cats were stalking it for about as long as I was."

"Well, I ain't never gonna complain about cougar pelts. I got a few buyers who always ask for 'em." he said. Cripps always had someone for something, it constantly threw me how many connections the man made despite the fact barely left camp.

We'd been working together going on seven years now, and sharing a camp for not much less. There was a world of bad men out there looking to take advantage of a girl on her own, but for all his flaws, Cripps was not one of them. He drove me insane, his constant talking and his nagging about gathering materials. There were countless days that I wanted to stick an arrow through him. But if I were being honest, I needed him and he needed me. And on nights like tonight, I sure was glad to have him around.

The next day came and went, I spent a lot of it sleeping and eating, regaining the energy that had been drained. Cripps pottered about, cleaning and tanning the pelts, singing to himself as he went. In the afternoon I took Aine to the stream to wash off, I never worried too much about Cripps being in eyeshot. I know he never looked. The water was cold and clean, I scrubbed my hair until it returned to its natural rust, no longer hidden by mud and grass. I splashed and scrubbed Aine, much to her displeasure, till she glistened under the mid-day sun. I asked Cripps if there was anything I could do to help, but in his usual fashion he forbid me from touching the stock till it was done. The man was unbelievably particular, which he made up for with his talent. He asked if I was going to see Maggie Fike, hopeful. I shook my head.

"Why don't you just go? I can watch camp for an evening." I offered. He had a soft spot for that woman, always asking after her and hanging around the bar. He claims he goes there for the moonshine only, but we both know that's not the reason. It's a shame that Maggie didn't hold the same softness for him, in fact there was no word in the English language less suitable for describing Maggie Fike than 'Soft'. The first time he'd taken me to meet her she'd nearly blown his head off.

"Naw, you know that she's a busy woman." he said, the longing ever present in his voice. I rolled my eyes, sometimes it was like living with a teenager. The truth was that I wanted to do nothing more than curl up by the fire for another night, work be dammed.

The sun came up early the next day, spring was truly underway. I felt restless at the idea of another day of nothing. Everyone had their vices, for Cripps it was alcohol. For me it was work. An earned day's rest was plenty more than I wanted, idle hands made for rampant thoughts. Thoughts about life, thoughts about my past or my future. I tried not to look too far in either direction, there was always either too much or not enough. I'd been alone for most of my adolescence, focusing on getting from one place to another in one piece. Never giving much thought as to where that place might be. It wasn't until I met Cripps, the old reprobate, that I'd had company. We had been settled in West Elizabeth for a while now, I liked the view. It reminded me of my mother. I didn't know how long we would stay there; Cripps was eager to move on as always. He never wanted to hang around in one place for too long, said the stock is too valuable, said we are sitting ducks.

He was right and I knew it, but where next? And how would it be any different from here? How would it be better? Sensing the oncoming dread, I jumped up from the fire and grabbed my boots. This was not a day for wasting on the what ifs.

"I'm gonna head into town, see if there's any bounties up." I shout over my shoulder while lacing my boots, I heard him pause stirring the pelts. "I've not been there for a couple weeks. Surely, they have found some new sorry bastard to look for by now."

"You sure that's a good idea? We don't need the money. Besides, last time you went out there you wound up bleedin' all over the damn-"

"I'll be fine." I cut in, trying not to reminisce. I could still feel the ache of the gash where the bullet had grazed my arm. For as much experience as I had, someone would always be able to out shoot me. It was dangerous work and I knew we didn't need the money. But I needed the stimulation. I needed the distraction. I grab the bolas and quickly wipe my pistol with an oily rag before mounting up onto Aine.

"Oh, Cripps? Less bourbon in the stew this time." I say, shooting him a wink.

"Blasphemy!" He laughs, the worry dissipating from most of his face, except his eyes. He was the closest thing to family I had and while I'd never asked, and never would, I could only assume I was the same for him. Sometimes I resented him for it. I'd gotten by just fine on my own, but now there was someone to worry about. Someone to feed, someone to make it back for. Someone who worries.

It's a short ride into strawberry and I was in no rush, taking time to enjoy the view of the Rocky Mountains above. This place has felt right since the moment we set up camp, the air is clean and light, the grass is lush and soft, the stream ever flowing. It's peaceful, and isn't that all anyone ever really wants? A bit of peace? It's what I'd been searching for, for a great many number of years. I'd take it in whatever form it comes.

I made sure to stop along the way to pick some mint; perhaps Cripps wouldn't notice if I sprinkled it into the stew later. This forest was filled with gifts for those who knew the land. Very rarely did anyone else camp here, not for more than a night at least. People tended to get packing as soon as they heard the wolves. Our fire was enough to deter them, but there was an occasional brave young pup. It would soon learn it's lesson. It was pronghorn territory; I'd frequently wake up to find them sniffing around in my bag. Banner, my old camp dog, used to keep them at bay. I missed him every day. I knew that we should get another to protect Aine and the stock, but the thought of replacing him is still too painful. He was lucky, fought off every hungry creature and every cruel winter to live until his old age. When he could no longer walk without pain Cripps had taken him out in the wagon and returned alone. Said he buried him somewhere with a good view.

I arrived in Strawberry just as the sun reached the middle of the sky, this place was getting busier by the day. It was becoming a popular spot for visitors wanting to see the "great outdoors" from inside their comfortable rented rooms. It amused me sometimes, how an expedition can be called as such when taken by carriage. But the town had its charm, the locals were all perfectly unpleasant and the shops were always stocked. The butcher paid better than the one in Valentine, though I hoped no one ever informed him of this. The lumber smelled great after the rain, it's the only time I really envied those with a permanent residence here. I had seen many places over the years, the mud of Valentine, the dust of Rhodes, the heat of Saint Denis. Strawberry was the only one worth staying in for extended periods. Other than the tourists and the locals the town didn't get to see much action, which is why it was a surprise to see that I wasn't the first one to the bounty board.

There was a man there holding the poster, I couldn't get a look at his face. I dismounted and walked up behind him slowly, trying to sneak a peek at the board. Shit, he'd taken the only one.

"If you're gonna rob me, you outta be quieter than that." his voice was textured, like sandpaper.

"That's my bounty." I blurt out without thought, I'm not sure what willed me to react in such a way. But once said, I knew I would have to die on this hill.

"Is that so? You own it?" he said dryly, not even turning around.

"No, but I'm the only one who ever-"

"Not today you ain't."

I grit my teeth, knowing he was right. I could go to Valentine and grab a bounty from there, I could go to any other town with a sheriff. It wouldn't even be a hassle. I could, but I won't.

"Look, asshole. I don't know where you rode in from but I've been doing the bounties in this town for some time now, you don't just come in here and step on-"

He finally turned to face me, taking me by surprise. He towered purposefully, looking down at me from below the rim of his hat. I would be scared of him, were I not impractically stubborn.

"Watch yourself, Miss." his voice was low, carrying the weight of his unspoken threat.

I open my mouth to retort, to tell him where to go, where to shove it, but quickly reconsider. As confident as I was in my own strength, this guy was easily twice the size of me. My finger twitched toward my holster instinctively, he noticed.

"What's all the fuss?" Sheriff Farley had appeared in the doorway of the jail, for a man whose job it was to prevent these kinds of disagreements from escalating he seemed far more amused than concerned.

"No fuss, Farley. I came to collect a poster, but this fine fella wont hand it over." I say, still glaring up at the stranger. His mouth twitched in response.

"Let me see it." Farley extended his hand out for the poster, the man handed it to him passively. "Ah yeah, Alfred Mullins. Well, you're in luck. He's known to travel with guards, vicious and wicked, the lot of 'em. It's better you both go."

We both broke then, snapping to face Farley in outrage.

"That's a funny joke..." I grunt, reaching out for the poster. The man snatches it before I can grab it.

"Ain't no joke, miss. We lost two good men chasing these folk." Farley looked down solemnly.

"Weren't that good then." the stranger mumbles, a hint of humour in his voice. Farley doesn't hear him, but I do. I throw him a pointed look, he just shrugs.

"Well, I need the money. But I'm warning you now, if you slow me down, I won't so much as look over my shoulder." he said, louder this time. Loud enough to make sure Farley heard it.

Why don't I just go back to camp? I can gather more firewood? I can hunt a few pronghorns, maybe pick some herbs? I could go fishing at Owanjila? I do always love the salmon. Is my pride so fragile that I feel the need to prove myself to this stranger? Someone I may never see again if I just walk away now?

"Fine," I say. "Let's get on with it."