Hi all! So I just wanted to say a massive thank you for everyone who has taken the time to read, review, like etc this story! It really means so much that I've got people along for the journey to share this vision with. Apologies for the delay on this one, I thought I had already uploaded 16, and took a small break to deal with boring adult stuff outside of writing. The next two chapters are wrote so I just have to retweak and edit those and normal service will begin soon! Thanks again cowpokes, happy reading!
Rhodes, April 1899
Amelia took a gentle morning ride into the town of Rhodes, side saddling her way on the back of Tallulah. She was a spirited beast and stubborn, but Amelia paid little mind and knew the horse would be used to her, eventually.
She was one of the new racing horses, and after Talako had conducted his evaluation of them all, thought that Tallulah would suit Amelia the best. Whether that was due to her size or temperament, she didn't dare ask, but could make an educated guess as to what Talako was referring to.
The humidity had started to build earlier in the year than expected as the red dust kicked up around her, Amelia chided herself for one of her nicer riding dresses. The hems were beginning to stain with the colour of clay.
As they arrived into the town, she unhooked her thigh and slid off of the saddle, hitching Tallulah to the post outside of the sheriff's office. It was a meeting she was not looking forward to, not that it ever was with Sheriff Gray. She just prayed silently to herself that he was not too sober, in which he would always be disagreeable but not too drunk that he kept talking for the entire afternoon.
She pushed open the door, stepping inside the darkened room, her eyes taking a moment to readjust from the bright sun of the morning.
'Sheriff,' Amelia said, giving a strained smile to the man who sat in his usual chair, his feet propped up on the desk as he leant back with a bottle of moonshine to his lips.
'Ah! Miss Edwards, ma'am!' He chimed, the unmistakable slur already thick in his voice.
'Any more trouble at that estate of yours?' He said, his feet slamming down on the floor with a heavy and clumsy thud.
'Thankfully, not yet. But I would like to extend my thanks -'
Before she could continue, the sheriff cut in, as Amelia knew this was not as swift as she hoped for.
'That's all very well and good, ma'am, but you ain't the only one with troubles these days. These goddamn Braithwaite's!'
He stood there puffing away on his smoke, before finishing another drink without offering any further information about their recent situation. The man seemed lost; even though everyone else wanted him gone, he still held onto his position as if nobody dared tell his family otherwise.
She supposed it was convenient for the family to have the joke of a man run the town, even if he did so appallingly. Before coming here, she couldn't really fathom why such families stuck by men whose conduct was completely unacceptable. Now, however, things made much more sense: no matter how low-class a man might be, being part of some prominent name ensured that they stayed above reproach.
He took another large swing of whatever found poison that sloshed in the ceramic jug as Amelia took a deep breath in, not wanting to hear another hour long rant about this family or the other.
She honestly thought that either one of them just enjoyed having another family around that could make the other one look better. All their fortunes had been made off of the exploitation of others, and Amelia thought that they were all just as bad as the last.
'I'm sure, Sheriff. As that's the case, I won't take up too much of your time, as you're clearly a busy man,' she said as she shifted uncomfortably on her feet.
The sheriff side eyed her, no doubt sensing her facetiousness, but Amelia had many better things she could be doing than standing there watching the fool drink himself to death.
'What do you want from me now?' The man slurred, hopefully as desperate as she was to end the exchange as quickly as possible. For neither were hardly friends.
'I require some additional security for the estate after the… incident,' she said slowly, trying to forget the events.
'Oh, I see. I suppose you want my family's help? Want me to be your personal guard?'
For a man who was as drunk as he was, the sheriff could certainly hold his speech together when he needed to make a scathing comment or two.
'Not quite, Sheriff. I was hoping you had some petty criminals in the cells that know how to use a gun.'
He let out a bark of a laugh, his copper hair flopping onto his forehead.
'You want to trust these men?' He said.
'I don't need to trust them. Most are quite agreeable when you give them a warm bed and some hot food. You know how I operate, Sheriff. This will be no different.' Amelia said.
'So you want some thieves running around your estate, after you just been robbed? You sound mad, miss!' He laughed again, his fingers curling around the moonshine.
'These will hardly be the first criminals I have employed, Sheriff, you know this. You get an empty cell and a billfold for it.' Amelia pressed her lips into a firm line, wanting to be done with all of this and go about her day.
'Fine, fine. Money always talks,' the Sheriff mumbled. He pointed over his shoulder to the cells at the back of the room. 'Got two in there for you, one petty thief, one starting too many fights in the saloon.'
'Thank you, Sheriff.' Amelia said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a twenty dollar bill and placing it on his desk.
He eyed it up, no doubt calculating how much more shine he could get with it.
'I'll have them with you by tomorrow,' he nodded into the bottle as he took another swig.
'Thank you Sheriff. I look forward to seeing you then,' Amelia gave a soft smile as she turned on her heels, leaving the sheriff to his duties, which doubtfully were much more past drinking himself into a stupor.
She left the office and did not turn around. She did not want to listen to one more word of drunken wisdom from this man, as she knew he would be even less helpful than she thought.
Taking in the sights of the small town of Rhodes, Amelia found herself idly untying the reins of her horse. She watched people walking through the dusty streets, their heads covered against the sun, their boots leaving lines in the dust as they walked. It was so different from most of the places she had lived, and even though it had been ten years since she left her family's estate in Wiltshire, she feared she would never be used to the southern state.
It was a backward place, with ideas and opinions that belonged to eras now gone, and frankly, it was somewhere Amelia could never truly call home.
Not wanting to spend any more time than necessary in the town, she hooked her foot into the high stirrup and hoisted herself back onto the saddle. She truly detested riding side saddle. Not only was it utterly uncomfortable and impractical, but the idea that a horse could corrupt her modesty was laughable.
However, Rhodes was a place of strong opinions on how women should behave, and she wanted to cause as little disruption as possible.
Knowing Sheriff Gray, he would probably throw her in the cells for some grounds of indecency if she rode in, legs astride.
Perhaps one day, she thought to herself, perhaps when I don't need something from him, I'll cause a scene.
She smiled to herself as Tallulah trotted forward, kicking up the dust along the way as Amelia swayed to the rhythmic trot. She felt at peace with herself as she watched people rushing about, some holding handkerchiefs to their noses as the dust blew in their eyes, others stopping to wipe it away with their sleeves.
She barely got past the old confederate monument when, as she looked around at the townsfolk, she saw a familiar face.
Naturally, the man strode without any cheer to him. His eyes were hard as he left the gunsmith's store. She wondered if his hat made him more or less recognisable as she continued to stare at him, slowing her horse to a stop.
She watched as he headed towards the saloon, a frown etched across his forehead as he glanced to either side of the street before pushing open the door and disappearing inside.
Perhaps she really had gone mad, as the sheriff suggested, as she found herself clicking again at the reins to head towards the saloon.
Hitching the horse once more, she relieved herself from the saddle and pushed open the batwing doors.
She spotted him instantly, sitting on a stool with a glass of whiskey in front of him. He was perhaps the only one in the saloon who did not turn to look at her. Although it wasn't usual for a woman to be present in the establishment, it certainly was unorthodox to be there without a chaperone.
As Arthur cradled his drink, she was unsure whether it was best to be honest, that she had recognised him and wanted to give her greetings, or pretend that the whole thing was by some strange happenstance.
The fact she even needed to contemplate it was ridiculous and perhaps turning around was her best option, yet even then she found herself by the bar, standing next to him.
'Good morning, Mr Morgan,' she said, smiling over at him as he looked up at her from underneath his hat.
At first she wasn't even sure if he recognised her, but he lifted his glass towards her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
'Miss Edwards,' he said, 'bit early for the likes of you to be somewhere like this.' Arthur continued, looking over his shoulder slyly to the other patrons who had quite clearly taken quite an interest in her arrival.
'Well, that is very true. However, I saw you and thought I would say hello,' she bashfully grinned, suddenly feeling very foolish with herself.
Thankfully, the bartender arrived, giving her an expected queer look, but it saved her from her moments of embarrassment nonetheless.
'What'll be, Ma'am?' He asked.
'Brandy, please,' she said, sliding a coin on the bar from her purse.
'Brady at this time?' Arthur noted, sitting up straight to look at her.
'Whiskey, at this time?' She retorted back, raising her eyebrows at his glass.
'Yeah, you got me there,' he said with a small chuckle.
She pulled out a cigarette from her case and lit it with the candle on the bar. She offered him one, which he took with a grin.
'So, Mr Morgan, what brings you to Rhodes? Business, I assume?' Amelia asked, blowing out a cloud of smoke as the bartender placed her drink before her.
'Always,' he said with a slight curtness to his voice, although she could not have said whether that was to her or the work.
He took a long pull of his whiskey, as Amelia did the same.
'And you, Ma'am?' Arthur asked, looking over the rim of his glass.
'Unfortunately, I had to speak with the sheriff. I've hired some new guns for the estate as an additional precaution to yourself.' She said, swirling the drink in the glass.
The sounds of the saloon slowly returned to normal around them as the other patrons carried on with their lives. She wondered how long it would be before she was questioned about this.
'The sheriff is a fool,' he said with his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.
She smiled at him.
'You've met him before?' Amelia said, sipping her drink and taking another puff from her cigarette before placing it down on the bar.
Arthur took another long drag of his whiskey and let out a breath. A mumble of agreeableness was all she got and all she really needed.
'I advise as little interaction with him as possible,' she said, letting out a small laugh as she continued on with her drink.
'You had any more trouble at the estate?' He asked, with what looked like a look of genuine concern as his eyebrows pulled together when he looked at Amelia.
'No, thankfully, there have been no other disturbances.' She said.
'And the boy? The one who was shot?' He continued to ask as Amelia returned his gaze, slightly dazed by the sudden concern. Perhaps this Mr Morgan wasn't as gruff as he all seemed. Or perhaps it was just small talk.
'Luke is doing quite well, thank you,' she smiled at him as he gave a swift nod while taking a drag of his cigarette.
The smoke hung in the air, just as their words did as the silence grew between them.
Amelia wondered if it was best to perhaps leave, not wanting to seem that she was there for any other reason than being polite. She didn't know much about Mr Morgan, but she couldn't help but sneak in the odd glance or two of him. He still made her unsettled in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. It seemed like there was something there that she didn't want to examine too closely.
She took another sip of her drink as he finally spoke again.
'That uncle of yours,' Arthur said, returning his gaze to her, 'has he always been the way he is?'
Amelia, taken aback by the question, gave a pause for thought before she let out a light giggle.
'Unfortunately, my uncle has always been very much the same. But I do love him dearly for his... unusualness,' she said, smiling fondly to herself. 'He's an odd man, Mr Morgan but a good man nonetheless.'
He gave her an odd look, as though he was almost trying to calculate if she was entirely serious.
He nodded in what she could only assume was satisfaction at what she had said as he emptied his glass, placing it on the bar before him.
'So what is Trelawny doing, dragging his niece across the Atlantic?' Arthur questioned as he silently beckoned the bartender.
Amelia felt the smirk at the lips as she finished the rest of her drink.
'I'm afraid it's a rather long and boring story, Mr Morgan,' she returned, trying to ignore the creeping anguish that had nestled in the back of her mind. Especially after her encounter with Mr Cooper.
She was truthful in that the story was long. However, to say it was boring was something else entirely. Not since she had been whisked away by Josiah had she even muttered the words of what her family, especially her father, had done to her. Amelia was sure that she would never do so, either.
Arthur motioned for two more drinks as he placed a coin on the bar. Surely he wasn't about to buy her a drink? Don't be foolish, she thought to herself. Her previous thoughts, slipping back into the mental pocket of iron where they were usually stored.
She smiled as she watched him lean back in his chair as he blew out his cigarette in one long puff before lighting another with a match from his pocket.
'How do you put up with a man?' He asked with a wicked grin on his face as he took off his hat, taking both drinks from the bartender.
The last thing Amelia wanted to admit to herself was the more she looked at him, the more she realised how handsome he was. If not somewhat in need of a bath, she couldn't help but think.
However, now, as she saw him without his hat for the first time, she noticed the things about him that were usually hidden under the brim's shadows.
The sun weathered wrinkles around his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows arched slightly higher than the other, the way his light brown hair licked thickly in a side parting.
She pressed her lips together, suppressing her laughter at her own stupidity. She really was turning mad.
'Scotch usually. And a lot of it,' she beamed, as Arthur gave her a throaty chuckle in return. Enough to make her stomach turn in a flurry.
'Good thing you got this then,' he said, sliding the drink over to her. 'At least you've got better taste in drinks than you do uncle's.' He laughed to himself as he leaned forward, placing his hat on the bar before him as they began to sip their drinks.
She smiled and continued to stare at him, watching how easily he held his glass.
'Family is hardly a choice, Mr Morgan,' she quipped. 'Besides,' she added after a momentary pause, 'my uncle is quite sweet when you get to know him.'
Arthur chuckled at this before taking another drink and looking down into his glass before raising his gaze back up at hers.
'What is your uncle sweet at?' Arthur asked.
Amelia couldn't help but wonder if he had been flirting with her or if it was just a friendly conversation, which would have been preferable. Especially as she was now his employer, for a rather serious matter at that. Yet somehow, she could have stayed in that saloon all day with him, drinking and laughing, sharing stories of her uncle.
'He was always very kind to me, where the years were not,' she said with a sad smile.
There was something about the way he looked at her with his blue eyes, eyes hardened by the years that made her feel he understood it all too well. That he understood her.
Arthur took another long pull from his whiskey and let out a sigh as she wondered if she would ever be able to forget him in this way again.
'Is that so?' He said.
The way he said it, Amelia knew it wasn't just another conversation, but there was more that came with it. A sadness that she couldn't quite understand and didn't dare pry about.
They shared a comfortable silence as Amelia finished her drink, knowing better than to have another this early, especially in the given company. In fear of her sensibilities diminishing, she closed her purse and dabbed at the corner of her mouth.
'I fear I have quite a busy day ahead,' she said, stepping away from the bar as Arthur stood.
Arthur nodded and gave a smile that made her feel like she was being swept along by a storm. He left a few coins on the bar before following her out into the street.
As he walked beside her, she wondered if she could have made a fool of herself or if she had misread him altogether and decided to keep her distance to avoid any awkwardness in future encounters.
'Thank you for the drink. I shall let you continue with your business.' She said, feeling suddenly a little overwhelmed by his presence and had to stifle back a smile that seemed to escape from her mouth all on its own.
'Good day, Mr Morgan,' Amelia said, as she turned to leave.
'And to you, Miss Edwards,' he returned in his usual smokey voice.
As she untied the reins, Arthur knelt before her, interlocking his hands to boost her to the saddle. She had never been so aware of any man in her life and yet it felt so natural in that moment, as if she had known him for many years.
Placing her boot in his hand, he pushed her effortlessly as she positioned herself on the saddle, trying to push her thoughts from her mind and avoid his lake blue eyes. If she didn't get to grips with herself, she would surely find herself in some trouble. Trouble that she had no desire to contend with.
'Ma'am,' he said, tilting the brim of his hat as she smiled, clacking the reins and making her way back to the estate.
It seemed that indeed; the trouble had found her, whether she liked it or not.