That evening, Meryl approached the woman barkeep in the town's only saloon. She had to lean in and raise her voice to be heard over the noise of a large crowd, taking up nearly half the room, celebrating the townsfolk's victory over Supposed-Vash that morning.
"Can I get a couple glasses of whiskey?" Meryl practically shouted. "Make one a sour," she added, knowing Milly would appreciate the sweeter drink. She pulled a handful of double-dollar bills from her pocket (she and Milly had eventually been able to make a withdrawal at the bank later in the afternoon).
The woman looked at the money and frowned, shaking her head. For a moment Meryl wasn't sure what to make of this reaction, but the woman pulled an unopened bottle of alcohol down from the highest of the glass shelves on the wall behind the bar.
"On the house, honey," she told Meryl, "for what you two did today." The woman nodded toward Milly and said, "Tell that girl to come up here and get some ice for the eye."
"Thank you," said Meryl, genuinely surprised at the gift—and it was good liquor, too—and glad of the proffered aid for Milly's injury. "I'll send her over."
As Meryl turned to make her way to the table Milly had chosen, there was a resounding crash! nearby. She was knocked suddenly sideways, and then pulled backward and down, all in one strange lurch that left her completely off-balance. She tried to catch herself with her free hand on the bar, raising the other aloft—not the bottle!—and recognized the sleeves of a bright red jacket fastened tightly around her waist.
"Whoops," said the Idiot from where he half-knelt on the ground, pressed to Meryl's side, steadying himself with both arms around her middle. Around them, half a dozen bar stools were knocked over and scattered across the floor. "Sorry," he told her, frowning down at the mess. "I'm pretty sure those weren't there a minute ago."
"Oh, I've no doubt," growled Meryl. Were it not particularly fine alcohol, she might have hit the Idiot over the head with the heavy bottle. She made to peel his arms from around her waist but he was already pulling himself up again with both hands on the bar.
"Where's my—?" the Idiot began, looking around him. "Oh, there it is," he finished happily, stooping to pick up an empty glass tankard that was miraculously still in one piece after his collision with Meryl, whom he had now apparently forgotten entirely. The Idiot slammed the glass on the bar and pushed it across toward the woman barkeep. "Fill 'er up, lady!"
In a flash, the woman picked up the tankard and swung it hard at the Idiot's head. Meryl gaped at her as the Idiot staggered sideways, knocking over another stool and barely catching himself on the edge of the bar.
"I meant, ma'am," said the Idiot, staggering to his feet. The woman hefted the tankard again menacingly. "Er... miss?" the Idiot finished, weakly. Looking smug, the woman filled the glass from the tap at the end of the bar and handed it across to the Idiot with no further fuss.
Meryl was still just staring, mouth open slightly in shock, glancing from the barkeep to the Idiot (who was returning, in dazed and staggered steps, to the rest of the crowd) and back again. The woman just smirked at Meryl and said, "Close your mouth before you start catching flies." She nodded toward Milly again. "Go on and get that girl, honey, 'fore her eye gets any blacker."
"Uh," gaped Meryl, though she hurriedly snapped her jaw shut before speaking carefully again. "Yes. Yes, I will." She made her way across the room as quickly as she could and sat down at the table next to Milly, keeping her back to the bar. Meryl had seen already that morning how brazen the woman barkeep could be, standing up to Supposed-Vash, and now with the incident with the Idiot she was sure she never wanted to cross the woman.
Milly seemed to have immediately spotted the bottle Meryl carried.
"It's a gift," Meryl said, noticing Milly's gaze. "From the barkeep. She says she has ice for you, too, for your eye."
"Oh, that's awfully nice," said Milly, smiling as she stood up. "Pour me a drink, I'll be right back."
Meryl nodded and poured them each a glass, taking a swig from her own and letting out a harsh breath. Really good liquor. She had already finished her drink by the time Milly returned and poured herself another so the women could toast to the morning's successful non-disaster. Milly seemed to be in good spirits as she drank, though Meryl could only see the half of her face not obscured by a large ice-pack fashioned from a fairly clean, if ragged, dishtowel.
Meryl managed to hear the obnoxious squeak of the saloon door's hinges over the enthusiastic celebrations nearby and glanced toward the entrance. She saw Karen and Delia walk in, scanning the crowd briefly, and Karen grinned when she caught sight of Meryl and Milly. The younger girl elbowed her sister and pointed, and Delia waved at the two women.
"There she is!" someone shouted. Delia froze, her hand still raised to Meryl and Milly, and she glanced sideways toward the huge crowd at the back of the saloon. The smile slid instantly off her face as the group rushed toward her en masse, and Delia only managed one step backward before they reached her.
Karen hung back near the door as the crowd surged around Delia and carried her off across the room. Meryl went to stand with the younger girl, leaving Milly behind with the ice pack (and the bottle). Meryl glanced down at Karen and gave her a puzzled look, but the girl only shrugged and the two of them followed in the wake of the cheering crowd.
"Get this girl a drink!" someone shouted. Meryl recognized the waiter from the café, again.
"Give her the best in the house!" shouted another voice.
A tankard appeared and was shoved into Delia's hands; she looked both surprised and delighted and saluted the crowd before bringing the drink to her lips. Meryl managed to move hurriedly through the people surrounding her and reached forward suddenly, putting her hand palm-down over the mouth of the glass before Delia could drink. The girl looked up, surprised, and the men around them let out groans of disappointment.
"Aren't you a little young?" asked Meryl, raising her eyebrows pointedly.
"Oh?" said Delia, eyes suddenly wide in a fake-innocent expression. "And when did you start drinking, Ms. Stryfe?"
Even from across the room, Milly heard this and burst into laughter.
So did the Idiot.
And it wasn't his usual fake guffaws, in tandem with that broad and ridiculous and entirely unbelievable grin; it was real laughter, and his eyes were clear and sparkling as he watched her from across the table. Meryl stared at him for a moment, but remembered herself and turned back to Delia.
"Touché," she conceded, smiling wryly and removing her hand from the glass. Everyone cheered. Delia grinned at Meryl and took a giant swig, almost choking when the alcohol burned her throat. Some of the younger men nearby laughed and one clapped her hard on the back, making Delia flush pink with embarrassment.
"To Delia!" several people shouted at once. "The girl who saved the town!" The whole building seemed to vibrate to the sound of echoing cries, "To Delia!"
Someone was tugging insistently at Meryl's elbow and she turned around to find Karen gesturing at her, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder. She pulled Meryl close to be heard over the deafening cheers of the crowd.
"Let's go wait with Milly," said Karen. "Delia could be here for awhile, that's Mason Harding." Karen pointed surreptitiously at the young man at Delia's left and whispered, "She likes him!" Delia must have heard this somehow, because she glanced sideways to look daggers at her sister, who just grinned madly and led Meryl away.
When they reached the table where Milly sat, they found her finishing another glass of liquor. Milly already had a rosy flush to her cheeks and she smiled brightly at Meryl and Karen. She poured two more drinks and offered Karen her own. Meryl drank and raised her eyebrows over the rim of her glass, but Milly only shrugged and smiled a why not?
Karen looked pleased to be granted the same grown-up allowances as her sister, but when she took a dainty sip of the alcohol she coughed and her eyes watered fiercely. Meryl tried not to laugh as the girl pushed the nearly-full glass back to Milly with a shake of her head.
"No thanks," Karen wheezed.
"Good," Meryl said. "Nasty habit. Cheers," she added to Milly, who had taken her glass again. They drank, grinning, and Karen rolled her eyes.
"What's going to happen to—uh," Karen stopped, frowning slightly. "Um, the Bad Guys," she finished finally, looking embarrassed to have failed in finding a better name. Milly just smiled.
"We sent someone to your closest neighboring town, they have a jail," Meryl explained. "Lawmen'll come tomorrow to cart off—um, the Bad Guys."
"Ah," said Karen. Then she grinned. "Well, I wouldn't mind them taking their time about it. It's funny as hell to see them all tied up in that car. That was a great idea, Meryl, I—"
Karen stopped speaking abruptly as Delia appeared in their midst and pulled up a fourth chair at their table, sitting down with a weary sigh.
"What's wrong?" Karen asked.
"Oh, nothing. They're done with me, I've only just got away," Delia said, waving off the question dismissively . "Now they're on to that Mr. Marlon and his red-coated friend." She fanned herself with one hand (Meryl could see her face had gone bright red from the alcohol), and sighed deeply, looking a little dizzy.
"How much have you had?" Karen demanded of her sister, her tone almost accusing. Delia ignored her.
"Who is he, anyway?" Delia asked Meryl.
"What?" Meryl said, distracted. Milly was pouring herself another glass from their bottle and Meryl frowned, having lost track of the younger woman's drinking.
"That man," Delia pressed, "in the red jacket. He came into town with you, didn't he?"
"The hell he did!" shouted Meryl reflexively. She glanced over her shoulder at the Idiot, who was now doing a jig, balanced precariously on the table around which everyone was celebrating, cheering him on loudly. "He just ends up everywhere we are, in the middle of everything going wrong," Meryl said, frustrated. "A pain in the ass, that's who he is!"
"Oh, he's not so bad," Milly put in, absently. She finished another glass of liquor and hiccupped loudly as Meryl turned around again to stare at her in disbelief.
"So where are you headed next?" Karen asked Meryl hurriedly, accurately recognizing this as an oncoming one of Those Arguments and trying to steer the conversation away. Milly started giggling uncontrollably from under the ice-pack and Karen gave her a tentatively concerned glance.
"You could stay, you know," Delia said before Meryl could answer, sounding hopeful. Then her eyes widened as a thought seemed to strike her suddenly. "You could stay here and be the sheriff!"
Meryl shook her head distractedly and pulled the bottle from Milly's hand before she could help herself to yet more alcohol. "We have our own job to do," she explained. "You see now how hard it is trying to find Vash the Stampede, when so many other criminals are happy to jump in and use the name just to scare folk."
"This isn't the first time it's happened," Milly told the girls conspiratorially, between hiccups.
"As for the sheriff," Meryl said, an idea forming in her head as she poured herself the last of the bottle (Milly watched this, looking somewhat disappointed), "maybe you should look into taking on the job."
"What—me?" Delia spluttered, eyes wide. "But I'm only—Daddy wouldn't—no one would—"
"Delia," said Meryl, exasperatedly. The alcohol was starting to muddle her thoughts slightly now, and she sighed. "Did you not hear the whole damn bar singing your praises? You rallied the whole town this morning, that's not something to take lightly." Delia looked stunned and opened her mouth to say something, but Milly suddenly slid sideways off her chair and nearly crashed to the floor, saved at the last moment by Karen's strong grip on one of Milly's arms.
"Oh dear," said Meryl. She shook her head and stood. "We should go," she told the girls. Meryl checked the clock above the bar; it was hanging lopsidedly and she was tipsy enough to actually need to tilt her head to read it, squinting slightly. "We need to get sleep. We're leaving early tomorrow."
"Should I help you get her home?" Karen asked Meryl, looking worriedly at Milly.
"It's alright," Meryl assured her. "We've managed with worse."
"I'm fine," Milly said, collecting her ice-pack and standing upright again. "The floor moved back there, but it's fine now."
"Good-bye, girls," Meryl said, smiling at the sisters. "It's been wonderful meeting you."
"You'll come visit, occasionally?" Karen asked, hopefully.
"Of course!" said Milly, beaming, before Meryl could reply that this was unlikely. Instead she said nothing, sighing.
"Alright, let's go," Meryl coaxed, leading the younger woman out of the saloon.
Thankfully, once out in the cool night air Milly seemed to sober up considerably and Meryl let go of her elbow. Milly sighed happily. "They're good girls, aren't they?" she asked Meryl.
"They are," Meryl agreed, nodding to herself.
"Wait!" a voice called, and Meryl and Milly turned. It was Delia, somewhat out of breath from running after them. She glanced between the two older women and then addressed Milly, panting: "Can I—could I talk to Meryl for a minute?"
Meryl looked to Milly, who looked about as surprised as Meryl felt.
"Go on ahead, Milly," said Meryl, nodding at the younger woman. "I'll be up in a minute." Milly smiled at Delia again, giving one last little wave, and did as Meryl bade her.
Delia waited for Milly to disappear around the corner and took a deep breath before saying, "I just wanted to thank you."
"What for?" Meryl asked, bewildered.
"Just, being here, mostly," said the girl, half-shrugging awkwardly. "Showing me and Karen—and Daddy—that it's possible. To be a woman in your kind of profession. And for the sheriff idea." Delia stopped, hesitating. "I don't know that I'll be gutsy enough—"
"You've got the guts," Meryl assured her. "You just need the confidence. Trust yourself." She pointed back at the bar, where shouts and laughter of celebration still raged on, and said, "They trust you."
For a moment they stood in silence. Meryl was beginning to fear she'd gone too far and passed into cliché—Trust yourself? She might well have said, "Believe in yourself!" Then, much to Meryl's surprise, Delia hugged her.
"Thank you, Meryl," said the girl again, squeezing once more before releasing her. Delia smiled and returned to the saloon, waving good-bye as she stepped out of sight.
Meryl stood there for a moment, half-stunned at the girl's words (not to mention the display of affection), before turning and continuing her walk to the inn. Still somewhat bemused, Meryl was taken completely off guard when someone grabbed her from behind and the world turned suddenly upside-down.
It took Meryl a second or so to actually realize what was happening. She was being dipped, as though at the end of a dance number, bent backwards nearly double and supported (and held firmly in place) by strong arms—and he was kissing her.
It only lasted a moment, but in that moment a dozen things seemed to race through her mind. Her heart skipped a beat despite herself, just remembering what it felt like to be kissed, it had been so long... Sun-chapped lips were scratchy and warm against hers; hot breath mingled where their noses barely touched.
Meryl didn't even have time to push him away before he drew back enough to look down at her.
"Oh hello!" said the Idiot brightly, flashing her a broad grin. "I thought you were that charming young lady tending bar."
And then he dropped her.
Meryl landed hard on her ass and shoulders and it all happened so quickly she couldn't keep the back of her head from hitting the hard-packed dirt ground outside the saloon. For a moment she saw stars, and when her vision cleared the Idiot was walking away whistling, with a bounce in his step.
Meryl was on her feet in an instant, almost snarling in her anger. She lunged for the Idiot's neck, but two strong arms wrapped around her middle from behind, yanking her backwards and clear off her feet.
"Ma'am!" said Milly, in a scolding tone, holding Meryl dangling several feet in the air.
"Let—me—go!" Meryl ordered, through gritted teeth. She was struggling against Milly's vice-like grip, but the Idiot had reached the door; he smiled back at her and Milly, waving merrily, and said, "Ciao!" before disappearing inside again.
After a few moments, once her breathing had calmed (and after Milly made her promise she had collected herself), Meryl's feet were back on the ground.
"What are you doing back down here?" demanded Meryl, trying not to sound angry.
"You have the key," Milly said, confused, pointing at Meryl's pocket. "I had forgotten."
"Oh," said Meryl, flustered. "Of course. Sorry." She handed the key to Milly and followed her partner stiffly back to the room they shared, her face burning red with embarrassment.
How much had Milly seen?
While Milly took her turn to brush her teeth, Meryl stripped off her deep violet leggings and white tunic in favor of the long shirt she preferred for sleep. She pulled the covers on her bed free—Milly had made it again sometime when Meryl wasn't looking—and punched one of her pillows into shape. More than once she imagined the man's face in the pillow's place. He was just so damn aggravating...
"All yours, Ma'am," called Milly cheerfully, stepping out of the bathroom.
Meryl found her own toothbrush and walked to the mirror, her bare feet cold on the floor. She squeezed toothpaste onto the bristles and started in on the more hard-to-reach areas back behind her molars. The already unpleasant combination of mint-flavored toothpaste and lingering alcohol-breath mixed suddenly with something else altogether and she made a face at the taste. She touched her lips with her free hand and her fingers came away sticky. Frowning, she glanced down and rubbed the substance between her thumb and forefinger before, hesitantly, licking the tip of her index finger.
Donut glaze.
Meryl's forehead ached where here eyebrows came together and she resumed furiously scrubbing out her mouth, so vigorously it made her gums ache. She realized now, looking at her reflection in the mirror, the most truly infuriating thing of all was that in that moment, when the Idiot drew back from the kiss and saw her face, there wasn't even a glimmer of surprise in his eyes. He knew perfectly well who she was when he first seized her from behind.
That bastard.
When she crawled into bed, Meryl lay awake and restless despite exhaustion from the day's events. Her indignation at the Idiot's behavior was enough to keep her up most of the night, and when she did finally manage to nod off, she slept poorly.
Waking up cranky in the morning, Meryl declined Milly's invitation to breakfast. She wasn't sure she could restrain herself from strangling the Idiot if they happened to cross paths. Her fingers twitched spasmodically at the thought, her hands seizing around an imaginary neck. How dare he...
Besides, she still had the report to write for the company.
Ugh.
The room's small desk was facing the window and by the time Meryl had set up the heavy typewriter she could see the lawmen from the next town over had arrived. She watched them pile Supposed-Vash and his men into a paddy-wagon that seemed almost too small to fit all five of them. Even from the second-floor window Meryl could hear a lot of uncomfortable noises from the prisoners as the lawmen drove off, bumping along across the sand.
Meryl gave a curt little nod of good riddance and went to work on the report.
It was fairly straightforward; by now the "it-was-somebody-else-using-the-name-for-their-own-purposes" result was pretty much the standard in her reports. Meryl felt the need to notify the company as well that the town had no real law enforcement staff—just in case anything else ever happened to prove the mayor wrong about the nothing-big-will-ever-happen-here issue.
On second thought, Meryl pulled the finished (and almost flawlessly typed—sigh) report from her typewriter and re-copied it, adding a note in the middle that gave Delia's name as the authority that the company should contact for any further information about the incident.
As Meryl licked the lid of the envelope and sealed it shut she caught a flash of red in her peripheral vision. Down in the street the Idiot was leaving town, walking out into the desert with his black bag slung over one shoulder. She scowled at his retreating back and stood, tucking the envelope in her pocket as she began putting the typewriter away again.
Milly returned to the room just as Meryl had finished with the typewriter. She handed Meryl a small parcel wrapped in a paper napkin.
"What's this?" Meryl asked, already opening it.
"Breakfast," said Milly. "Bacon and egg sandwich, for the road."
Meryl grinned, just the smell of bacon immediately cheering her.
"Thank you!"
They packed their bags with the speed and efficiency of much practice, and paid the innkeeper his fee. Their Thomas were tethered outside when they arrived, and Meryl managed to load up her bags without receiving any bites to her elbows.
"We're going east," she announced, pulling herself up onto the Thomas.
"That's funny," said Milly. "Mr. Vash was headed that direction when I passed him this morning."
"He's not Vash," Meryl said automatically.
"Are we following him?" Milly tossed out, casually. Meryl glanced sideways at her but Milly was busy arranging her saddle before mounting.
"No, we're just... headed that way, too."
"Oh?" said the younger woman, now seated comfortably on the Thomas. Milly had one eyebrow raised and wore that near-smirk again. "Why's that?"
"Uh..." Meryl groped for a reasonable explanation. "Because," she said finally.
"Yes, Ma'am," said Milly, laughter shining silently in her eyes.
Meryl chose to ignore this and urged her Thomas forward.