Tempe spurred her horse for all it was worth. Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, making the cool night feel like a furnace. The sound of her heart pumping in her ears seemed to match the rhythm of the beating hooves of the horse she rode. Her rage at the audacity of … whoever that was blinded her beyond reason.
A small, rational part of her mind worried over who that man could have been.
You have no idea who I am, do you? He had mockingly asked.
Doubly concerning was how she had injured him. Everyone who visited Westworld signed a waiver absolving Delos of any responsibility for injury, but Tempe didn't think that coverage extended to guests injuring each other. It would have been one thing if she had only shot him. That wouldn't leave any lasting harm. But she had lost her temper and taken it too far. He would probably need surgery.
Slowly, she became aware of the sound of someone shouting her name.
"Tempe!" Dolores screamed, "We need to slow down! We'll kill the horses!"
Tempe began pulling on the reins, urging the horse to slow down. Now that she had escaped the blindness of the fury that had overtaken her, she could see the obvious that Dolores had been screaming at her. The horse's mouth was covered in froth. She could also hear him laboring to breathe.
Gradually, Tempe brought the speed of her horse down. Once they were at a trot, Tempe looked over to see Dolores horrified. She stopped the animal and dismounted. Dolores expertly kicked her own leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground.
Dolores ran to Tempe and threw her arms around the woman. Tempe gripped her just as tightly. Quietly, Dolores began to sob. A lump rose in Tempe's throat, but she forced it down. Dolores was the one who had just lost her family and home.
That's silly, part of her thought, She's a host. None of this is real. Not Dolores, her parents, or her life.
But that's what I pay for, isn't it? Another part of her mind wondered. The whole reason I come to this place is to play out this fantasy.
Unable to decide which was the correct answer, Tempe settled on comforting Dolores.
William sat on the porch of the Abernathy house, dabbing at his upper lip with a wet cloth, wiping away any remaining blood. The bleeding had stopped once he had set his broken nose. The sensation had been painful, but exhilarating. A real challenge for the first time in years.
A woman in a period appropriate ladies gown approached him. William had watched her since she had appeared from behind a tree. He could tell already the woman wasn't a host. And with her sense of purpose, she couldn't be a guest either.
That left one possibility, a Delos employee. He couldn't be sure in the darkness, but she seemed to be in her twenties, with dirty blond hair. From the vague hint of tobacco carried to him on the wind, he could also tell she was probably a smoker.
"Sir, if you would like somebody to see to your nose-"
"I'm fine," he cut her off, "I just need you folks to leave me alone and let me enjoy my vacation."
"Sir," she said hesitantly, "While competition between guests on conflicting narratives is expected, there are other ... considerations."
William looked at the woman sideways, "You do realize she broke my nose, right?"
The woman glanced away from him. Then, seeming to gather her courage, she looked him in the eye and said, "Her family has paid, and continues to pay, Delos a lot of money for the ongoing narrative with Dolores Abernathy. If it were to come to their attention that a Delos board member had negatively impacted that experience…" She let the comment hang in the air.
William stood and began walking to his horse. "That's the thing about playing a game," he said as he hoisted himself onto the saddle, "Sometimes, you lose."
And with that, he spurred his horse into a gallop.
Tempe started awake. She lifted herself onto an elbow and looked around. The sun barely crested over the foothills to the east. She felt a warmth against her back that made her smile. She rolled over so that she was face to face with an angel.
Dolores' eyes cracked open ever so slightly, a small smile on her lips. She took in a deep breath as she raised herself onto her elbows, letting out a soft moan as she stretched. She rolled onto her back, giving Tempe a playful, sidelong glance.
"How did you sleep?" Tempe asked.
"Better than you, I expect," she answered, "You were makin' a fuss most of the night. I had to practically lay on top of you to get you to hold still."
That sent Tempe's thoughts spinning anew. Her stomach fell again as she thought of the possible consciences of her actions the night before. She felt the blood drain from her face. Dolores must have noticed, because she was instantly above Tempe, rubbing her cheek.
"Are you okay?" her perfect angel asked, "Do you want some water?"
Tempe sat up, shaking her head. "Grab me a whiskey bottle," she ordered.
Dolores did as requested and Tempe took a long swing. Almost instantly, the headache started to fade. She took another long swig of whiskey before corking the bottle and setting it aside.
"Did you want breakfast?" Dolores asked, digging through a saddle bag, "I figure we could just heat up beans and have a little jerky." She smiled, but Tempe could weakness in that smile
"Hey," Tempe said, "Come here and sit next to me."
Dolores stopped rummaging in the bag, but didn't immediately turn around. After what seemed like too much time, she turned toward Tempe, tears threatening to run down her face. She made her way over to Tempe and sat. Tempe gently put her arms around Dolores, and the farm girl instantly collapsed. Tears flowed freely as she quietly sobbed against Tempe's shoulder.
"He killed Ma and Pa!" she screamed, "What do I do now?"
Tempe felt her heart break. Emotion welled up within her and, despite her best efforts, tears began to fall. As soon as she felt the wetness on her face, a dam broke. All of the stress of her post-grad education, the exams, the overwhelming schedule, the dissertations, her final thesis, coming to Westworld only to have her one refuge taken away from her, everything poured out in a deluge of choking sobs. Dolores gripped her harder, as if trying to pull Tempe into herself. The two women held each other, quietly sobbing and falling into the comfort of another's embrace.
After several more minutes, the sobs quieted and the tears finally stopped flowing. They parted, both looking a mess, but beautiful in the other's eyes.
Tempe used her fingers to wipe underneath Dolores' eyes. Dolores put her hands on both sides of Tempe's face, the touch sending shivers down her spine. Tempe leaned in and Dolores eagerly met her lips. It seemed to Tempe that a world of emotion passed between them. Love, loss, compassion, hope, desire, all seemed to dance between them as their lips and tongues met. Dolores lay down, her head against the trunk of the tree they were camped beneath.
After what seemed an entirely too short eternity, they parted. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment before the sound of Tempe's empty stomach obnoxiously interrupted. Dolores laughed and Tempe, despite herself, broke into hysterics. The yo-yoing of emotions overwhelmed her as she and Dolores laughed uncontrollably for several minutes.
Once they had control of themselves, Dolores tried to sit up. However, her hair seemed to be tangled on the roots of the tree.
"Hold on," Tempe said, doing her best to gingerly untangle Dolores' hair from the tree. After several tries, she finally pulled her knife and cut the last stubborn remnants of hair.
Her hair now free, Dolores stood and walked back to her horse. She opened the saddle bag and pulled out a can of beans and several strips of jerky. Tempe went to her own horse and pulled out gear for cooking.
"You said you had an adventure for me," Dolores said as she coaxed the coals back into a proper fire with some dry grass and sticks.
Tempe began setting up the cooking pot. She marveled to herself how little this particular technology had changed in the last few hundred years. The implements she had were period appropriate, but she could remember using similar equipment on family camping trips as a child.
"I think I do have something," she said, pulling out the old map. She pointed to a small figure eight next to a town. "I'm not sure what that is supposed to mean, but I think it's supposed to be a clue."
Dolores took the map gingerly in both hands, examining it with great interest. "Do you think there's some kind of treasure to be found?" she asked.
Tempe shrugged, "No idea. But honestly, if there's one thing I've learned in my time with you, it's that it really doesn't matter what's at the end. The important thing is that I get to share the journey with you."
Dolores looked at her incredulously. "Were you born with that silver tongue or did they give it to you in those fancy universities?"
Tempe rolled her eyes. "Listen," she said, "I know you might not get this, but my father pays a lot of money, and I mean a lot of money, for us to have this time together. I'm his only child. Since my mother died, he has told me so many times that I am his whole world. I love him with all my heart, and he shows me that he loves me just as much every day. Not just by buying things for me, but by making sure that I had an education. He stayed on my ass every day to make sure that I was using the position that I was born into, a position that I am extremely lucky to have, to not only be able to provide for myself, but also make the world a better place. He made sure that I understand that not everyone has the amazing privilege I have, and that it is my duty to use that privilege for the good of everyone, not just myself.
"But, he also believes in taking care of yourself. You aren't any good to anyone if you aren't any good to yourself. When he saw how important to me my time with you was, he did everything possible to make sure I have that time with you as much as possible."
Dolores looked slightly confused, "I'm not sure I understand."
That took Tempe slightly aback. If it had been a simple matter of a concept being beyond what her programming would allow her to understand, she would have said that doesn't sound like anything to me. She took a deep breath and tried again.
"The point is," she said, "Even my father could see how important you are to me. And despite constantly being on my ass about making sure I leave a positive impact on the world, he has made sure that I have this little bit of selfishness, that I have you. So when I say that the destination doesn't matter, I mean it. You and I could spend my entire vacation in the Mariposa for all I care."
Dolores laughed, "I seem to remember doing that at least once."
Tempe smiled at the memory. Then she sighed. "Alright," she said, "Let's eat and then get moving. I'd like to make this town before dark."
The sun hung high overhead as William came upon the remains of a campsite. A doused campfire, an empty can of beans, and hoof prints were enough to give it away. William dismounted and glanced around the area. There wasn't much to distinguish this from any other campsite until his eyes snagged on the roots of the small tree next to the camp. He squatted to get a better look. Several strands of hair, the same color as Dolores' hair, were still caught in the roots of the tree.
William stood and looked once more around the camp. It didn't take him long to find two sets of hoof prints leading away from the camp. Based on the spacing, they moved at a slow trot. William turned his gaze in the direction the prints led.
"Pariah."
