Author Note: Here we go! Super excited to try my hand, writing in this fandom. Feedback is most definitely welcome and overwhelmingly appreciated.


New York, September 1888

Her bare feet skidded across the cold, wet stone of the patio as she scrambled out the door. Droplets from the storm pelted her cheeks and dampened what little garments she still had on as she ran down the small sloping hill towards the main stables.

Closing in on the building, panicked sobs broke from her lips as she ran to the double doors. Pulling one open just enough to squeeze through, she pushed herself through the small opening, scraping her arms and legs in the process before falling to the dirt floor with a cry. Uncontrolled sobs escaped her lips as she pushed herself up to her knees, her hands clenched at the cool dirt floor, sparsely laced with straw.

"Natalya? What happened!"

The light of the barn was shadowed as a figure stood over her and then knelt to her eye level.

She looked up to meet his gaze, tears brimming her eyes and obstructing the details of his face; she struggled to take in a breath through the tightness of her throat.

"H- Help me- Help me please-" She couldn't voice the details. They wouldn't come out.

"Are you okay?" She saw her own hands come into view as he picked them up in a gentle but hasty fashion and looked her over. The deep red was smeared along her arms and hands, dripping to the ground from the rain droplets that still covered her skin. "Look at me- Are you hurt?"

"I don- I- what happened- I don't-." The words fell apart as they escaped her, and the concern and worry on his face only solidified everything even further.

"Come." He grasped her upper arms in a gentle but firm grip and brought her to her feet.

She was directed to the other side of the barn; horses occasionally popped their heads out of their stalls as they walked by until they got to the room where she knew he stayed during his night shifts.

Leaving her in the doorway, he walked further into the room and got down onto his hands and knees beside the small single bed.

Her throat was still tight as she crossed her arms tightly, hugging herself and gripping what little fabrics still remained on her body.

Her figure shook from the wet fabric clinging to her, as well as from the cool temperatures. The closed doors of the barn prevented any draft from entering, however the darkness that she knew lurked outside was enough to chill her to her core.

A loud shuffle yanked her attention back to the small room and she saw him pulling a trunk out from under the bed. Opening the storage container, he pulled several things out of it before grabbing a messenger style bag from a chair at the nearby desk.

"W-What are you doing?" Her voice wavered as she watched his hurried movements about the room. The reality of what he was doing began to squeeze her chest from the inside out.

Setting the bag on the bed, he snatched some nearby clothes from the trunk and held them out to her.

"We don't have time to waste, Natayla, come." His voice was strained, and his eyes were starting to mimic her own.

Quickly walking into the room and taking the clothes, she gave them the briefest onceover, acknowledging the wool army shirt and pair of canvas pants.

"Put those on, quickly." He gestured towards her once more before heading out of the room.

Her feet tried to drag her out of the room after him, but she forced herself to stay put. Attempting to swallow the lump in her throat she quickly put the shirt on over her chemise, and pulled on the pants, stuffing what she could of the damp material into them.

The last time she wore pants she was just a kid. It was an odd feeling, but one that only distracted her thoughts for a mere second as she buttoned the pants up and turned to see him in the doorway once more, holding out a pair of shoes; socks stuffed in the tops.

"I don't want to g-"

"We don't have time to discuss this, wee yin, come now." He repeated the gesture, pushing them towards her once more until she took them.

Within minutes she found herself clothed in semi-fitted attire, boots laced, and a heavier coat being put on over the shirt.

Meeting her in the doorway, he walked up to her and gently brushed her wet hair from her eyes to put her worn out flat cap on her head.

He lowered his hands, and she quickly raised her own to adjust the hat before she felt him take hold of her upper arm to guide her out of the room and into the stable's main corridor.

He let go of her arm as he came to one of the stalls, "Remember what we discussed?"

His question pulled her attention and over her quivering lip she attempted a response. "I don't- I can't go now." It was obvious, but she hadn't acknowledged the past several minutes enough to know he was preparing her for departure.

"We talked about this. It's time," His voice held emotion as he suddenly pulled open the stall door, pulling a haltered horse along with him.

She watched with big eyes as he tethered the horse outside the stall and went about grabbing pieces of tack.

"You remember what I told you. Keep away from town; follow the tracks away from the city, and don't stop for anything."

"I can't-" Fresh tears swelled up in her eyes and began staining her cheeks further as she watched him through blurry eyes. "Not by myself-"

Too much. It was too much. Too soon. She'd never make it.

The horse was tacked up too quickly for her liking as he turned his attention back to her; walking up with gentle, sympathetic eyes that mirrored an understanding of her fear.

He approached her with purpose and began buttoning up her coat as she cried.

"We've gone over it a thousand times. You know what to do. You head west; you'll be safe out there. You run and you don't stop running until you know you're safe, understand?" Taking gloves from his pocket he hurriedly guided her to put them on. Pulling his own scarf off, he put it around her, bundling it into her jacket before gently taking her face in his hands. His thumbs swiped away at the red-stained tears on her cheeks. "You have a fire in you, wee yin. No one has, or ever will, take it from you." She could see the sadness in his eyes, but there was something else. "You'll make it, I know it." Certainty. It should strengthen her, but she only felt the crushing weight of her future and what was to come. He didn't know the details. What would become of her.

He quickly runs back to the small room, leaving her alone with the steed tied to the stall door. Her eyes can't help but meet that of the large horse standing with perked ears a few feet away from her.

"You remember what we discussed," She turned and saw him holding out the messenger bag to her as he pointed to the flap of the bag. She quickly nodded, sniffling in a breath before wiping her face with the sleeves of the oversized jacket.

"Everything you'll need is in here. I wish I could have taught you more, Natalya," He helped her put the bag on before adjusting the strap more tightly so it wouldn't slide off. "Be strong." He gripped her shoulders for a moment and Natayla forced herself to nod. He was right. Be strong.

His eyes drew away from hers, behind her, and Natayla felt her chest and throat tightening back up.

"Come," He gestured for her to follow, and he pulled the tethered horse into the middle of the walk of the stable.

"No- William, I'm afraid of-" He was hoisting her up before she could argue, and she was in the saddle before she could further her protest. "I can't ride-!"

"Remember what I told you." William gave her another gentle, reassuring smile and gaze of pure determination and belief. "Relax your body. Keep your center of gravity. He knows what to do." He patted the horse's neck as he held the reins just below his head. "You just have to guide him."

Her grasp on the reins were tight, and her body was stiff before she forced herself to relax, just a bit. Lowering her hands, she collected the reins accordingly, adjusting her seat in the saddle. She could feel the colt's tension beneath the saddle, reacting mostly likely off her own tension.

"Look at me, wee yin."

Natayla turned her eyes down without a second thought towards William. He gave her a small smile and patted her knee with his free hand before making a gentle fist with said hand.

"Fire."

Her heart ached. More than the rest of her did in that moment. She swallowed her nerves and nodded, rubbing her cheeks along the coat's collar to dap away at the fresh tears.

"Will I see you again?" She couldn't help the question. It was so naive to ask. It was an unfair thing to ask.

Expression faded; William seemed to contemplate it for a time before giving her a smile.

The barn doors are ripped open with such force that the clatter of them hitting the outside of the barn walls spooks most of the horses within the stable.

The colt below her let out a startled snort, and Natayla's eyes widened with alarm and her breathing picked up as she clutched the reins close to her body, eyes on the far end of the stable as she looked on in horror at the arrival.

"There you are." The statement was spat like poison.

William looked to her once more and released the reins.

"Run."

The sound of gunshots battled with the raging storm as she galloped out the far side of the stable and didn't stop.

~000~

Two Weeks Later…

The town was almost quaint. Picturesque even. Composed of no more than twelve buildings, it had a general store, saloon, and train station as its most populated establishments. From what she could gather, it started out as a livestock trading post. The general populace likely expanded the post within the last few years to accommodate more than just sheep and cattle.

It was a lot like what she saw in the newspapers regarding what lies west of America's eastern coast; livestock towns, mining towns, lumber towns… Most of the towns out west seemed to harbor one dominant industry on which the settlements were originally established.

It had been weeks since that night. When William told her to run and not stop. Within the first twenty-four hours, she'd been separated from the colt William had sent her off with. The thunderstorm from that night didn't help her escape, and the both of them got caught in a small mudslide. After falling off, she saw the colt take off into the darkness. Getting separated from that horse was just another knife to her heart. She'd been there when he was born; watched him grow. She'd called him Cal. A gorgeous red bay thoroughbred; he had a fiery spirit but a gentleness that William had said he'd rarely seen in colts. She loved spending time with Cal whenever she could get away from… him.

Losing that horse only made all of this that much harder. Making her way cross country without transport proved challenging but now she really was alone.

She'd hitched rides with all sorts of people, exchanging money for rides, and sometimes labor. So far, she'd had mostly good interactions. Families moving west who could use an extra hand with watching their children were abundant it seemed, and it proved one of the safest rides she could find.

She'd only had a few close calls regarding people with grey intentions.

She'd arrived in town in the early morning hours. It was getting close to sunset. She'd been hanging around in the small settlement all day, keeping an eye out for travelers and any word on anyone offering passage west in exchange for money or labor.

Stay away from trains and coaches if you can, William had told her. Especially near state border crossings.

He'd told her as such because missings persons bulletins were often posted near state border stations. The likelihood of someone recognizing her there was higher. But now… She knew he hadn't counted on what actually happened that night. If the worst came about back home, she feared the next time she'd ever see her face on a poster that it wouldn't be a missing persons bulletin.

He wouldn't take it that far… would he?

Leaning against one of the porch beams by the general store, Natasha's eyes were following the wagons and carts coming and going through the main street of the town. She'd asked the general store owner if he'd seen anyone heading west. He'd told her he hadn't, but he'd keep an eye out. At the very least she had an extra set of eyes.

The ambience of town was, in some ways, soothing. Not like the city she was so used to seeing. You could see the sky here; the sun… the clouds. The smog and pollutants soiling the sky in the city made it, so she rarely ever saw the stars.

The past two weeks however kept her from enjoying those differences. Food and survival were all she could contemplate. Now finding a ride before nightfall was crowding the corners of her mind and quickly closing in.

"Um, 'scuse me miss?"

The voice was closer than she would've liked, and the question makes Natasha turn abruptly, the heels of her boots catching awkwardly on the deck panels.

"Oh- I'm sorry."

A hand catching her elbow only makes her tense up further as she regains her stability and steps away from the figure.

"Can I help you?" Natasha asked, gripping the strap of the messenger bag tightly.

"You lookin for a ride west, sweetheart?"

The man appeared older than her, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties. His face was relatively tan, dirt and dust settled in the creases of his face. He had a dark head of hair peeking out from under a widely brimmed hat and a light dusting of facial hair. Clothing was clean but well worn.

His brow knitted under the brim of his hat.

"Reason I ask; storekeeper said the girl out here was lookin' for a ride." He furthered, waiting for a response- she now realized. She'd been staring for a little too long.

"I uh- Yes! Yes, I am," Her enthusiasm escaped her before she could compose herself. The nerves of having nowhere to stay as night drew near started to ooze away, and a flicker of hope lifted the pressure from her chest.

"Where exactly?"

"Millstone." Natasha answered eagerly but with more composure as she eased her breathing and tried to maintain a level of properness. "I'm moving in with my sister. With the costs of a train ticket these days I just can't afford such an expense right now."

"Millstone? Yeah, I've heard of it," The man gave a slow nod. "My buddy an' I are traveling past there. It'll be a little over a day's travel, but we can give ya a ride." He gestured for her to follow as he picked up a box of produce from the ground near his feet.

"Thank you, mister." Natasha followed the man, keeping up with his fast but casual pace.

~000~

"Maine, huh? S'pretty far out for a lone journey. Young gal like yourself needs t'be careful."

"Oh, I am being careful, Mister, thank you." Natasha gave him a brief smile over her shoulder from where she sat next to the driver of the wagon.

The two men that had offered her a ride didn't have much space, but they offered her the passenger seat on the wagon. The other sat back amongst the supplies.

They seemed to be nice enough people. Natasha had met plenty of good-for-nothings on her trip thus far. Even though she had some money to spare for a ride, some had asked her for other… favors. She'd turned them all down as calm but sternly as she could. None so far had overstepped, and for that she was relieved.

William had warned her that she would encounter people who would push her boundaries. And because of that, he'd kept one of his revolvers in the messenger bag - the go bag as he called it - in case she ever needed it. He'd never gotten around to teaching her how to shoot, however. If her uncle found out… There was never a good time for her to learn.

Aim where you wanna shoot; pull back the hammer and pull the trigger. Beyond that she didn't know much else.

"I've never been up that way. How's the weather?"

"Pretty cold during the winter months." Natasha turned her attention to the one next to her, "The warmer seasons are quite nice though."

"You a city gal?"

"Not particularly, Mister." Natasha responded while looking out over the road ahead.

"M'name's Floyd." The man next to her gave her a tip of his hat, his mouth curved up into a grin around the cigarette in the side of his mouth.

Natasha swallowed and put together a very brief but polite smile.

"Floyd, then." She responded.

"Back there's Homer. But anyhow, you say you ain't a city gal, but you don't look like ya grew up out in the sticks."

"My people bounced around when I was a child." Natasha offered. "I wouldn't really call myself either of those things."

"Most folk who grew up in these parts are pretty wary of strangers." Floyd responded.

His words made Natasha's brow twitch as she watched a wagon pass by them before her eyes briefly caught his.

"That so." Natasha wasn't sure what to say.

"Sure is. The west is…" He chucked, "A flawed man's paradise."

Despite feeling flickers of anxiety in the corners of her mind, her jaw clenched, and she met Flloyd's gaze head on for a brief time.

"I can imagine, mister."

"Can you?" His expression seemed almost playful, almost too friendly, like one you'd give a friend you'd known forever.

He looked away before she could decipher it further.

Nightfall came quicker than Natasha thought it would. Granted it was still early months and the days were shorter. She wished she'd found a ride earlier in the day to avoid night travel.

Part of her wish came true when Floyd mentioned stopping for the night and continuing the journey the next morning. No night travel, but now she was stuck with these two strangers in the middle of nowhere. She took his words in stride, offering to help unload any supplies for the evening.

They found a spot a ways off the road in the woods to set up camp. It wasn't until they began unloading some supplies from the wagon that Natasha noticed just how far off the road they were. She couldn't even make it out anymore as they were surrounded mostly by forest.

Settled down for the evening, Natasha tried calming the flickers of nervousness bubbling up inside her as she stared at the pot of beans over the fire. They hadn't given her a reason not to trust them yet. She was okay.

Homer was whistling under his breath as he stirred the contents of the pot around, eyes on the food being prepared. The crackle of the fire and the rustling of the leaves on the trees was soothing enough.

"You like beans, Miss?"

Natasha returned her gaze forward in Homer's direction and gave a small nod.

"I do."

Only seconds more passed before he made a dish and held it out to her.

"It ain't much, but it's warm."

"It's perfect, thank you." She put together a small smile of gratitude and received a small grunt in response from him as his attention returned to the fire.

"Hey Homer, look who I found!"

The statement wasn't directed at her, but she found herself turning anyhow, not expecting to see Floyd walking out of the darkness of the clearing with five mounted men in tow.

"Hell's that?" Homer sounded like he was now chewing something, and she heard a rustle from behind her as the man got to his feet.

Natayla felt her throat tighten; unblinkingly she watched five men get off of their horses a few meters from where she sat at the fire.

"Found these assholes stumbling their way past here."

"You say that like we was lost or something." One laughed as he dismounted.

"Forgive me- forgive me, I just wouldn't be surprised one bit if you were." Floyd laughed as he received what appeared to be a hard pat on the back from one of them.

His eyes met hers for a brief time as they all began heading towards the fire.

"Oh he-llo, I see you picked up a passenger… How much did she cost?" The words were mumbled but she heard them clear as day and found herself slowly turning back to look at the fire.

Slow down. Just breathe. You're okay.

"Shut yer mouth, Ed. We have a guest boys, so please do try to be respectful of the lady." She heard Floyd call back to them before he made his way around the fire into her field of vision. Taking a seat by the fire, he grabbed a dish to collect his helping of the meal.

"Ma'am,"

"M'lady."

"Miss,"

They all made their own quiet acknowledgements as they came into her view. Within a minute they were all seated and gathered around the fire. She had someone on each side of her, but none had made their acquaintances yet.

"Thought we wouldn't see you all for a while, Hugh." Homer acknowledged one with a brief look in between bites of food.

"Boss made a change of plans." She didn't expect the person Homer had directed the question at to be close to her as his voice made her quietly flinch. "He wanted us to meet up with you two." The one that responded, Hugh, was on her left.

"Good thing I saw ya then." Floyd muttered the statement laced with a chuckle. "You'd be lookin a hell of a long time in the wrong darned direction."

A particularly loud crack from the fire drew Natasha's attention away from their conversation for a brief time. Letting her eyes dwell on the burning logs she grasped the fabric of her long skirt tighter, her legs bent off to the side.

She desperately wanted to tone out their conversation, just watch and listen to the crackle of the fire and the crickets on the outskirts of the tiny clearing they were in.

The stars were visible above; she wanted to look. She couldn't. Just as she couldn't tone out their conversation in search of relief from the situation she now found herself in.

Logic told her she was okay, but her gut said otherwise.

Floyd sat directly across the fire from her. There were three newcomers to her left. Two on her right, Homer of which was in between. The only one she knew by name of the five newcomers was Hugh who, she now knew, sat to her left.

All of them had gun belts, and weapons holstered within them. She'd seen it fairly often since she left New York. People were more readily armed out here. But the nature of the environment and lifestyle seemed to dictate that more than pure freedom of choice did.

"So, little lady. Forgive me for sayin it- But I didn't catch your name."

Natasha found her eyes drawing to the man next to her, Hugh.

He didn't meet her gaze as he reached to get more beans from the pot and scooped them onto his dish with the ladle.

Other quiet conversation died away when her answer didn't come immediately, and as the silence continued, she found the man's eyes meeting hers.

He seemed almost curious. Clearing her throat, Natasha looked back into the fire for a moment before meeting the man's eyes.

"Probably because I hadn't given it yet, mister."

Where did that come from?

Before she could process her horror to her own words several of the men let out loud fits of laughter at her response and she briefly shot glances around at them before meeting Hugh's gaze once more.

"I imagine it's only polite, miss. Forgive me." He almost chuckled.

"Yeah, I never did catch your name, darlin-"

"It's Jane." Natasha almost cut off Floyd as he spoke up.

"Jane." He nodded before raising his drink up. "S'been a pleasure."

Several of them copied Floyd's action; a couple dipped their hats; others mimicked a toast-like gesture with their drinks and conversation seemed to continue on without much thought. She found herself without eyes on her once more and she slowly began letting out the breath she now realized she'd been holding in.

Despite feeling the pressure of being in the presence of strangers, Natasha allowed herself a bit of time to tone out their conversations to have her own in her head.

She needed to find out more about them. At least act courteously comfortable in their presence. If she was too stiff it might complicate things further. Being too nice might have the same effect. Just- make simple conversation.

"Are you all heading somewhere in particular?" She asked the question to Hugh, turning her head in his direction in hopes that only his attention would be captured.

He didn't look up from his meal as he took another bite. A nod followed a few seconds later.

"Yes ma'am, we are. California it's lookin like." He responded, "We're meeting a few more companions in a few days."

"Is your travel associated with your occupation?" She was genuinely curious. She'd heard how many jobs out west accorded that people move frequently.

"Prospectors." He answered simply, eyes on his meal.

"So, your lives are fairly transient I take it, then?"

"Yes ma'am," He gave a nod of confirmation, but once again, no further eye contact which confused her.

Deciding it was a good place to end the conversation, Natasha turned her attention back to her own meal and took a few bites.

As the hours passed, the atmosphere softened, to her surprise. The men seemed to grow more comfortable and relaxed, but also more drunk. Part of her hoped they'd just get themselves too drunk to do much as a few of them looked ready to pass out.

"S'been three weeks on'd trail." One slurred, raising his drink towards Floyd. "Haven't felt the touch of a woman in- s'long."

The comment caught Natasha's attention, but she continued to keep her head down, taking in quiet and steady breaths.

"Not one you ain't paid for at least." Natasha was almost certain that the mumble came from Homer as several of the men laughed in response.

"So, what has you travelin, ma'am?" Hugh brought her attention away from the others.

She met his eyes for a brief time before looking down into her lap and then at the fire.

"Going to live with my sister in Millstone."

"Millstone," Hugh repeated with the littlest nod following his response.

When his eyes were on the fire, Natasha found herself taking a few seconds to look at him.

He appeared slightly older than Floyd or Homer, maybe mid-thirties. Similar hair to Floyd, dark and relatively short under his hat. He had short facial hair, trimmed ever so slightly uneven; probably something commonplace when living out of the saddle and away from a proper barber.

"Your sister? She married?"

Natasha turned again towards Hugh, seeing him yet again not eyeing her. It confused her a bit; him seemingly more focused on his meal and staring into the fire. His tone was fairly casual, but his physical presentation felt detached from it.

It reminded Natasha of her uncle, back when he questioned her and it always sounded so casual, reassuring even. Then the questions would get more and more specific; his tone lower and posture more tense…

"She is." Natasha nodded. "They wedded back in November."

"And yourself?"

"Currently not engaged in any relationships, but my sister has someone she'd like me to meet with once I settle in with her." Natasha explained.

He gave a small grunt in reply before taking a bite of his meal.

"Your sister. What's her name?"

Natasha eyed him for a time, her lips slightly parted, brow gentle knit as she watched him for a time.

"... Elizabeth." Natasha answered, "Elizabeth Williams."

She'd thought of a few aliases. It was something William had mentioned. Names that were separated from her or immediate circle, but close enough that they could be remembered on a whim.

"Her husband is Roger Williams." She furthered.

"Hmm." He wasn't giving anything away; nothing that she could further decipher. She learned how to walk on eggshells around her uncle… It made her hyper aware of a lot of things when it came to the underlying intentions in other people.

"Heeey- Hey!"

Natasha looked up to see the drunk one who had spoken up earlier. She wasn't expecting him to be looking at her, however.

Her eyebrows jumped subtly in response as she waited for further words from him.

"Sss… Sw-sweetheart, would-" He let out a hiccup. "Y'do me the honor of- helping a fellow out on this fiiiine evening," He seemed as sincere as a drunk man could be, eyes barely open as he looked in her relative direction.

Natasha eyed him with her lips partially ajar, unsure what to say at first until Floyd did her the courtesy of speaking up.

"She's just a girl payin us for a ride west, Ed." Floyd said. "Mind yourself." His words in and of themselves were comforting, but they sounded flat and overall, lacking in sincerity. Her brow knitted a fraction at Floyd's expression before she looked down into her lap, fiddling with the fabric of her skirt.

"Not sure I agree with that."

Natasha's hands slowly came to a stop on the fabric and her eyes dotted to the left.

"What's that Hugh?" Floyd asked.

Silence followed and Natasha felt everyone's attention shift in response.

"Just a girl…" Hugh trailed off, stirring the remnants of food in his dish, scraping the sauce up along with the beans onto the spoon before sticking it into his mouth with a small nod. "Don't- think I agree, Floyd." He said through chewing.

"Excuse me?" Natasha's objection was quiet but loud enough to get Hugh's attention; the words escaped her before she could realize their subtle hostility.

"Traveling from- Maine? Was it?" Hugh questioned her; brow knit with curiosity that breathed sarcasm. "Across half the country to go live with your sister in little Ol' Millstone of all places." He furthered before meeting her eyes. "Quite the little story… Jane."

She couldn't pull her eyes away from him. She was in trouble. She didn't know just how much but to some degree… She was in trouble.

"The hell are you goin on about, Hugh?" The chuckle Floyd let out seemed hesitant. Like he was genuinely confused, which brought her a miniscule amount of comfort.

"That's the story she gave you, hm?" Hugh finally pulled his eyes away from her, allowing her a brief moment to quickly graze over the others.

It got quiet and Natasha brought her eyes back to Hugh. His eyes seemed to linger on everyone before returning to her.

"... I jus want some attention s'all," Ed slurred.

Out of the corner of her eye Natasha could see him unsteadily holding himself up with an arm propped behind him.

"You sure its Jane…" Hugh questioned quietly.

His voice was oddly smooth, rough in its own way probably from years of smoking, but smooth. If she couldn't see his face, she'd mistake the question reassuringly. But his darkened eyes and almost predatory gaze quickly turned those tables in her mind.

"Excuse me?" She demanded.

There it is again. Stop before you get yourself into bigger trouble.

"I'd gladly consider excusing you. All ya gotta do is just be honest with me, darlin." He let out a deep chuckle under his breath. "I'll help you out." He sat up a bit.

Natasha felt her diaphragm tense and breathing slow as her eyes followed him; her body sat rigid in place.

"Natalya?"

Her breath got caught in her throat as she stared at him.

"I gotta say, miss… You don't look much like a 'Jane'. Maybe an 'Alice'… a 'Katie' even but- I'd put some real money on Natalya." He gave a small laugh as he smiled and quickly wet his lips.

Natasha forced herself to swallow and take in a small amount of air as she waited for his next move.

"So? Natalya?" He tilted his head to the side.

"My name is Jane." Natasha responded flatly; brow knitted tightly as she forced some expression back onto her face.

Hugh narrowed his eyes before raising an eyebrow. He was toying with her, his expressions almost playful. She liked him better when he was dismissive and uninterested.

"See- I don't think I believe you, darlin."

Her body went rigid, and she tilted her head back when he reached for her and gripped her chin in an eerily gentle grip. He tilted her head in the direction of the fire enough to illuminate both sides of her face.

"I could've sworn I saw your pretty little face on a poster at the sheriff's." He sighed. "Quite the reward too." He chuckled.

"Identifying marks- a horizontal scar on her left cheek. Same place where you just happen to have one, darlin." He ran his thumb along the almost healed injury that her uncle had given her that night. "Your hair was longer in the picture; not this- boy cut you got now, but I take this as a sign of you not wanting to be found." He smiled.

Natasha continued to meet his gaze, afraid to pull her eyes away but also unable to out of something else. That something else scared her. Or at least it was what she had been conditioned into being scared of… Defiance. Her defiance.

She finally pulled away enough for his thumb to lift off of her face, and to her surprise he took his leave and lowered his hand back to his lap.

"We can do this one of two ways, Miss Ivanov."

Natasha clenched her jaw at the drop of her last name.

Think think think.

"One: You behave, and we just might be gentle in bringin you to the sheriff tomorrow… Two: You throw a fuss, and I let the boys be not so gentle- it's your call."

Natasha felt the tightening of her jaw as she clenched it before swallowing. Her eyes fell for a brief moment before returning to the man who she now assumed held the most authority over the group given his choice of words. Either option ended with her in handcuffs…

"Might I also add, darlin, they prefer you breathin." He lowered his head a fraction, bringing her eyes back to his. "Now a deputy in Millstone is a friend of mine, and I know for a fact he won't mind the condition of yer little self tomorrow as long as you be breathin, so take a moment to think about that."

She couldn't help the twitch of her upper lip as she suppressed the further curl of disgust.

"Could've mentioned this earlier, damn it." It sounded like Homer. "We could've been at this all night-"

Her head snapped to the side as he got up and Natasha was on her feet before she could process that she was up.

"Don't touch me." She snapped, backing up a couple of steps.

The bag. Where's the bag?

"C'mon now kid let's not be too hasty."

They were all on their feet now; stances shifting smoothly like a pack of wolves descending on their prey.

Bag's on the wagon. It's on the wagon.

The wagon was behind her. A good twenty second walk at least. She could make it if she just- ran.

They collectively moved closer, and she stepped back in pace with them.

Run. Just run.

Not a second later did Natasha turn to run for the wagon. She almost slipped with the speed of her movements as she scrambled towards her belongings, and the loaded revolver waiting just out of reach.

She's tackled and the air is pushed from her lungs as she hits the ground hard.

An enraged yell left her lips as she thrashed, it was a sound she hadn't heard in a long time.

The pressure on her back lifts and a grip around her ankle begins pulling her backwards. She scrambles at the ground, pulling up grass and dirt before finally catching her fingers on something cold and smooth. A rock.

"Option Two it is then!"

She heard laughs above and behind her as she kicked her feet.

The fire came into view on her left and a hand grasped her shoulder to yank her onto her back.

Fight. Get yourself out of this.

One of the men coming into view, she swung her arm around as she was turned and the rock in her hand collided with his temple.

He howled as he fell backwards, clutching his head.

"Christ, Ed!"

"Get some damn rope then, Homer-!"

Natasha scrambled back onto her stomach and frantically crawled a few paces before a boot was pressed into her back and she cried out as she was pressed into the ground.

"Wait a moment there, darlin." It was Hugh.

"Hurry it up, ya moro-"

"Get outta my way-"

The pressure lifted and multiple sets of hands descended on her.

She thrashed and yelled, the movement a disorienting blur as she felt the ground leave her body.

"отпусти меня!" Her native tongue escaped her before she could catch it: Let go of me.

Hands pulled her wrists in front of her, and the feeling of coarse rope enveloped her wrists.

"You're makin this a hell of a lot harder than it needs to be, darlin." A hand gripped her chin with enough force to make her whimper as her head was warped in the direction to look towards the owner of the hand, Hugh.

She continued to kick and thrash her body and what parts of her she could move as she felt the continued struggle of them tying her hands.

"Relax your little self- this'll go a whole'lot smoother."

She jerked her head back enough to get his fingers to slip from their hold and bit down on whatever she could get into her mouth.

A growl-like yell followed as she held her teeth around two of his fingers and warm, thick liquid oozed into her mouth.

"You bitch-"

She heard the crack before she felt it. Almost mistaking it for a tree branch before the unbelievable pain and pressure in her leg followed and scream left her lips.

He'd just stomped on her leg. That crack was bone.

She thrashed her good leg wildly now, shaking her head and whatever else she could.

"Hurry up, Ed. She's mine after you're done." Hugh growled before stepping further away.

"Shhhhhhhh," One of them tried to quiet her before a laugh left his lips, a hand petting her head as she tried to move away from the false gesture of empathy. Her leg throbbed and the pain was so great- she found herself unable to comprehend it as the seconds ticked by.

"Hold still unless you wanna get cut up-" One snapped.

She saw light reflecting off of a blade as it came into view, and she felt a new wave of determination flood her as she tried to turn over again with her now bound hands and scramble away when she was grabbed once more.

She wanted to cry out, demand to be let go- use some form of intelligent wording but the only thing she was capable of voicing was screams.

"Shut her up before somebody hears!"

"Get- over here-"

She was dragged backwards again and when she was pulled once more on to her back a fist collided with her face.

Her head bounced off the ground and she lay there stunned. Her vision was spotted, and she couldn't make anything out. How time was passing she wasn't sure.

"There- je- done… sooner."

Cold air touched her chest and arms and she detected something being thrown away.

"There… go,"

She heard muffled laughter.

Her head felt like it weighed three times more than normal as she struggled to look up as her vision came back.

Her garments were gone, and just her chemise remained.

As her awareness flooded back to her, she felt her connection with her lower body return, and she did her best to kick and thrash with her one good leg and let out another enraged scream.

"I swear girl- shut your mouth!" She snapped, holding the knife up to her chin, the tip just under her jaw.

Nostrils flared; she breathed heavily for a time and clenched her jaw tightly as the pain in her leg began to return along with her awareness.

"Better, much better." He chuckled before sheathing the knife. "Be a good girl for me, this won't take long if you just hold still for'me." He laughed before unbuckling his belt.

"Now," He tossed his belt aside and gave her a smile that made her blood boil and eyes water. "How's about you-"

A zip-like sound threw across the clearing and Natasha flinched as wetness sprayed her face and she closed her eyes briefly.

Opening them she stared into the man's eyes, seeing blood trickling down his face as he sputtered before slumping onto her.

"Hey- Son of a bitch!"

Gun fire suddenly started, and Natasha scrambled out from under the body to hear the sound of thundering hooves around her.

Looking around frantically she noticed several mounted men as bullets flew in every direction and the yells and shouts of the people she was with as they all took cover and started firing.

Natasha scrambled onto her knees with a cry and with bound hands, headed for the tree line.

"She's gettin away! Damn it Floyd, shoot her!"

She felt another zip and she cried and stumbled to the ground. Her arm burned like it had been lit ablaze.

Unable to check the damage Natasha scrambled onto her feet on her one good leg and hobbled further into the darkness of the tree line.

The gunfire died away as quickly as it had started.

"Go find her!"

Natasha barely hears the statement over the sound of the rain starting to rustle the leaves on the trees as she continues to hobble before falling.

She crawled to a large tree and hid behind it; her breath ragged and noisy. Her throat was tight, she was on the verge of tears.

Fast footsteps on the forest floor come into hearing range and draw closer but not close enough.

Grabbing a thick branch from the ground, she held it tightly as she waited.

As the minutes passed, the footsteps got quieter.

Trying to remain balanced she stumbled a step, the dead leaves crunching under her feet.

She held in a sob and continued to hold the branch readily, trying to hold her weight against the tree.

The patter of rain on the ground covering should mask the sound but the footsteps stopped and then began again, only to begin getting closer and louder.

She finally felt the footsteps coming up past the tree and she steps out and swings the branch with all her might.

It cracked against the face of the man, and he fell backwards to the ground, dazed from the hit.

Eyes catching the reflection of metal on the ground, she scrambled to snatch the fallen pistol from the man and once she had it, she heard more footsteps coming and stumbled to her feet with the pistol in hand and raised.

"Easy there, miss." One said, hands out towards her in a hesitant manner.

Between them the man she'd hit lay partially conscious as he slowly blinked and lifted a hand to his face.

"Get away from me!" She screamed, stumbling backwards as she cried, the injured leg emitting its own scream of pain as she struggled to remain standing. The gun was heavy in her hands, and she fumbled to pull back the hammer with her bound hands as she cried.

"Miss we are not going to hurt you!" The same man urged.

She pointed the gun to the man on the ground who was now coming to his senses. He put his hands up hesitantly at seeing her pointing the pistol at him, but he seemed to quickly notice the uncocked hammer and gained confidence.

Slowly getting to his feet, she became more agitated and struggled harder to grip the weapon and ready it for firing as he towered over her at his full height.

"Miss, you're safe. Please-" The same dark-haired man who'd been doing all the talking proceeded. The words meant nothing to her as she continued to struggle.

Her wild eyes flashed between the three of them and the realization slowly dawned on her that none of these men had been at the camp. They were the ones who had ridden up and started unloading.

"Easy there," The one who'd been on the ground had his hands up cautiously as he contemplated a few steps closer to her. He was out of arm's reach but not by much.
"Easy," She struggled to step back as he stepped forward.

The tears were flowing now as she tried to back up, only to stumble again as she began to fall.
Before the ground came, she was caught by the individual closest to her; one hand snatched the gun away and the other wrapped around her shoulders to keep her off the ground.

"You're alright," He grunted as he pulled her upright, gun now holstered on his leg.
She was crying openly now, unable to control it.

How many times would this happen? Why me!? Not even one damn month on my own- I'll never make it out here.

The sound of a knife being drawn from a holster caught her attention, but before she could react to the noise the man in front of her began to cut away at the ropes binding her wrists together.

"Good work, son." The voice came from somewhere behind the man in front of her, the dark-haired one. "Hosea, would you go see about some layers back at that camp? She'll freeze before we get her outta here."

As he holstered the knife, Natasha looked at the man in front of her, eyes sweeping quickly over his features. He was younger; definitely twenties. Darker hair, but not as dark as the other man's.

Getting just a glimpse from around the man in front of her, Natasha sniffled in a breath as she evaluated the other two.

There was the dark-haired one who'd spoken the most to her and light hair on the one who was now turning to walk back towards the camp. Both appeared older than this man in front of her, but she didn't know by how much.
Further contact to her wrists made her jump and try to yank her hands away on instinct but they were held steady.

"Easy there-" She looked down to see the man had pulled the ropes away and briefly rubbed his thumbs into the damaged skin. The action was almost soothing- she hated to admit it.

Her throat tightened as she hiccupped.

"There ya go," He mumbled quietly, eyes elsewhere as he seemed to be looking around the area.

"Arthur, let's get her back to camp, we need to regroup." The statement came from ahead of her as the dark-haired man spoke up again.

"You got it, Dutch."

She jumped a fraction as the man's voice in front of her returned to normal levels. He stepped back a bit and gestured a hand out for her to proceed forward to where the two others had walked off.

"Les' go," He nods ahead for her to go on.

Almost without thinking, she tried to walk forward and almost fell again. The abruptness made the man lurch forward to stabilize her, but she hobbled back, catching herself on a tree.

"I- I can't-" She choked on a sob as she struggled to balance herself, feeling oddly exposed now that her bound hands were free to swing about to keep her balance. "My leg-" She sputtered and sucked in a quiet breath to try and hold her cries in.

"Alright, c'mere." The man sighed and stepped forward.

She hesitated a moment as he held out an arm for her to meet him halfway.

Without her permission, her one good leg hobbled her forward. Her body stiffened on instinct and she forced herself to lean into the stranger.
A whimper of surprise left her when he closed both arms around her, one on her back before he scooped the other under her knees and lifted her up.

She gripped his collar tightly and felt her eyes bore into the ground and as far from his face as she could.

In a matter of minutes, the atmosphere had changed, the company had changed, and she felt her body was unable to react in a non-hostile manner at this point.

With some trial and error on the stranger's part in navigating the dense undergrowth of the forest, and a couple minutes of a painfully quiet lack of conversation, Natasha saw the fire come into view and noticed the other two individuals talking quietly near camp. Bodies littered the clearing around the fire, and she stared at them quietly as they drew closer.

A satisfaction mixed with fear flooded her at the sight.

Letting her gaze move, she caught sight of the wagon across the fire where her bag was hung over the side.

"My things-" Her words left in a pained breath as she eyed her belongings.

"Where." That came from next to her.

"Messenger- Th'messenger bag."

She continued to eye her bag and blinked a few times to focus her sight. It didn't.

She squeezed her eyes shut before trying again but it seemed even more out of focus.

"Think we might have a broke leg here, Dutch."

His voice sounded watered down, muffled almost. She blinked her eyes a few times again, finding the response delayed as she tried to stay aware of her surroundings.

"Well get her on a horse, the nearest town's a couple hours off."

"Bring her here, Arthur."

The sound of hooves and a throbbing in her lower body was the next thing she noticed. She was on a horse. They were moving.

Attempting to lift her head she looked around, noticing the darkness around them. It was still night. She'd lost all concept of time. She didn't know where she was.

"Almost there, dear."

The unfamiliar voice came from directly behind her. She was in a saddle; someone was keeping her upright while simultaneously steering the horse she was sitting on.

"She 'wake?"

"Barely."

The weight of her eyelids was becoming unbearable as she tried to keep them open. Against her will they finally closed, and the beating of hooves slowly died away.


Author Note: If you got this far, thanks so much for your giving time! All chaps will not be this long. There was just a good bit to unpack here!