Arthur
Night was falling fast over Emerald Ranch as they rode in. Marlowe veered off the road a bit toward the train station. Arthur went to follow her, but she shooed him off. "I'd prefer a little privacy, if you don't mind. Where is that fence of yours?"
Arthur pointed down the hill from the train station. "The barn at the end of the ranch. Meet me there when you're done?"
"I guess I will."
Arthur watched her ride toward the train station, eyes fixed on her back, which framed a dark braid that hung almost to her waist. He hadn't realized how long her hair must be…
He shook his head to clear his mind and moved off down the path toward Seamus's stand. The weasel-like fence always got pressed when Arthur showed up close to closing time.
"Ah, it's you again," Seamus said irritably, folding his arms. "Make it quick, I got places to be."
Arthur withdrew the materials he had been gathering and placed them on the counter between him and Seamus: a large chunk of quartz, a silver bracelet, and a handful of long, curved claws. The fence rubbed his receding hairline, looking mildly impressed. "So you managed to kill the brute after all."
"Damn near took me with it," Arthur said with a slight shudder. "So can you make somethin outta that?"
Seamus picked up the materials and turned his back on Arthur. "Come back in about twenty minutes. I should have something made up by then."
"Much obliged." Arthur mounted Sidewinder and surveyed the green landscape around the train station. He could see Freya, hitched to the post and grazing, but no Marlowe. How long did it take to give money to a courier?
He nudged Sidewinder in a brisk trot up the road to the station, scanning for the woman. It wasn't until he got a little closer that he could hear arguing on the darkened west side of the building. "-had a deal! I don't understand why now you won't do it!"
It was definitely Marlowe's voice, so he dismounted and crept along the side of the wall, peering silently around the corner.
Marlowe stood with her hands on her hips, facing a lanky man with a long beard, dressed in a buckskin vest and rawhide boots. Despite the man's defensive stance, he appeared nervous, fidgety. "I'm sorry, miss, but I don't want to get involved no more. I can't risk it, not with what your payin me now."
"So what do you want? More money?"
"Unfortunately, my services are sold to the highest bidder, Miss R...Miss Cargill. Ain't nothin I ca-"
Marlowe cut him off. "Wait, what did you call me?"
The courier shifted from one foot to another, looking around. "M-miss Cargill. I-"
"No, you were about to call me something different." Marlowe's hand flitted to her side to pull a knife that wasn't there. Instead, she began to back away. "I think you should go."
"It's too late for that," a nasty voice said in a sing-song voice. From around the other side of the building emerged three men, guns drawn and pointed at ther. The courier also drew his revolver and leveled it at Marlowe. "You really should have picked your messenger better."
Marlowe kept her knife at the ready, looking very frightened. "What do you want, Rowley?"
The leader of the men smiled menacingly, displaying yellow and brown teeth. "I missed you, you know. Thought about you every day after you...left. Every time Mr. Wade rode in with your payment, I'd picture the ways you had to be coming up with the money." He advanced on her, licking his cracked lips.
"I said, what do you want?" Marlowe snapped, taking a few more steps back.
"Well, sweetheart, you missed a payment."
Marlowe went pale. "B-but I was just about to-"
"Three days late," Rowley said. "Your uncle isn't happy."
Tears shone in the moonlight on Marlowe's face. "I can pay more. I'll give you everything I have."
"Oh, I'll be takin everything you have," said Rowley with a smirk. "And then I'll be delivering you to Mr. Smythe. After that, he has me going on a little trip to Mexico." Marlowe's eyes widened in panic. Rowley gestured to his companions. "Take her, boys."
Arthur drew his pistol and shot the nearest crony in the head. He fell dead instantly. Gunshots blasted all around him, forcing him to duck for cover behind the corner again. He fired off a couple more shots, which killed the courier. The shots stopped.
Coming out from around the corner, Arthur tackled the third gunman to the ground and landed a punch to the face, knocking the man unconscious. He lunged to his feet and looked around for Marlowe. He spotted her being dragged by Rowley toward his horse waiting for him on the other side of the station near the tracks and took aim, but it was pointless. Any shot he tried to take would more than likely hit Marlowe.
"This don't concern you," Rowley snapped at him, pinning Marlowe's arms behind her back to prevent her from landing a blow to his head. "Walk away."
"Let the lady go," growled Arthur, slowly moving forward with his pistol aimed.
"This 'lady' don't pay her debts on time," said Rowley. "I'm well within my rights to take her in."
Arthur laughed mirthlessly. "No need to lecture me on being the muscle for a loan shark. Now you best be releasing her."
Suddenly, Marlowe managed to slam her head back into her captor's face. He howled and released her, blood spurting from his nose. In that split second before Rowley could react, Arthur took the shot, sending him stumbling backwards and falling flat on his back. Arthur raced toward Marlowe and helped her back to her feet. She was very white and shaking, but seemed otherwise unharmed. "How's that privacy working out for you?"
"Shut up," said Marlowe. Despite her efforts to hide it, Arthur spotted tears shining in her violet eyes.
He kicked at Rowley's boot, eliciting a groan. "Looks like the piece of shit is still alive. Want me to finish him?"
Marlowe shook her head, her beautiful face now contorted with rage. "Give me your knife."
Arthur didn't argue, handing her his bowie knife hilt first. She approached Rowley, who was trying to sit back up. It appeared that the bullet had grazed his shoulder. Nothing life-threatening, though Arthur had the feeling that the wound was the least of his concerns.
"You...think having this big...thug...around will stop your uncle from finding you?" Rowley spat at Marlowe's feet. "He'll come for you. And your little senoritas you stole-"
She kicked him flat on his back and pinned him to the ground with her boot directly on his gunshot wound. Rowley's ugly face contorted into a howl of pain. "Tell me where he was sending you in Mexico," she said in a deadly calm voice. A chill ran down Arthur's spine.
"Oh you know exactly where," he sneered through labored breaths.
Marlowe knelt down beside him, knife tracing the bullet wound. "I want to hear you say it. Now tell me where." With a flick of her knife, she slit a shallows wound into the man's cheek, making him whimper. "Or I'll add a matching one to the other side."
Rowley glared at her for a moment, then began to laugh shrilly. The blood was running from the slash on his face. "I bet you're loving this, you whore. What are you going to do, kill me?" He tried to spit again, but failed. "You're nothing but a scared little girl, and that's all you will ever be."
From off in the distance, Arthur heard shouts echoing in the direction of the main ranch. Clearly the gunfight with Rowley's cronies hadn't gone unnoticed by Emerald Ranch's occupants. "Miss Reid," he said urgently. "We gotta get out of here."
"Certainly," she said, still in that icy calm tone. Marlowe leaned closer to make sure Rowley was looking her in the eye. "You're wrong about Mexico, you know," she whispered. Arthur had to strain his ears to hear what she was saying. "They live and work at McFarlane Ranch in New Austin, and they are happy." She plunged the blade of Arthur's knife into Rowley's chest suddenly. Rowley let out a horrible gurgling noise, and then went still. She yanked the knife back out, wiped the blood onto the grass, and handed it back to a startled Arthur. "Let's get out of here."
"Yes, ma'am."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The ride across the plains was a silent one. The image of Marlowe plunging his knife into the man's chest was seared into Arthur's mind. He didn't know whether he should be impressed or horrified.
Once the pair had reached Caliban's Seat, Arthur slowed Sidewinder down. Marlowe followed suit. "We should camp for the night," said Arthur, looking up at the dark, cloudy sky. "I think we're about due for some rain."
"You are more than welcome to camp," Marlowe replied, casting a look over her shoulder. "But I think it's best we part ways here."
"At least wait until morning." The first fat droplet of rain splashed onto the brim of Arthurs hat.
Marlowe hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "Thank you for helping me back at Emerald Ranch, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate it. But I better be moving on."
A crack of lightning split the black sky. "Miss Reid, you'd be a fool to try and ride in a storm at night through these parts," Arthur insisted.
"And what will you do if I go? Tackle me off my horse?"
"I just might."
Rain began to pour. Marlowe scowled at the sky, then at Arthur. "Fine. Have it your way. There's an overhanging rock over there that ought to keep us dry."
"After you, madame," Arthur dismounted his horse and bowed mockingly.
They hitched their horses under the thick cover of the trees against the cliff. Soon, Arthur had managed to get a small fire going and was digging into dried rabbit meat. Marlowe had disappeared and reappeared with a handful of huckleberries from a bush she had seen near the road.
Arthur couldn't help but smile when she offered to share them in exchange for some rabbit. "Thank you kindly, miss. I'd do just about anything for some good huckleberries."
Marlowe popped one into her mouth and chased it down with a swig of whiskey he had offered. "I'd take this over any candy for sure. There was a large patch that grew in the woods behind where I lived, and any time I could get out for a few minutes I would pick some to share with…" she trailed off and looked away.
"Those 'little senoritas' that piece of shit mentioned?" Arthur probed. He figured if he was to get Marlowe to return with him to camp, he ought to figure out what kind of debt she was in.
She didn't say anything. Arthur nudged her knee. "We're stuck here until the storm passes, Miss Reid. There's only so much talk about huckleberries you can do."
Marlowe stared into the fire for a long moment. When she spoke, it was obvious she was hesitant. "Yeah." She took a swig of whiskey. "My parents died when I was very young. Tuberculosis, I think. I was sent to live with my next closest relative."
"Dear Uncle Walter, I presume."
"That's the bastard. He hated me, and made sure I knew it every single day. He did feed me and give me a roof over my head, and allowed me to learn to read, but I had to follow his strict rules." She flinched slightly at the memory.
Arthur stoked the fire and studied her. The bottle of whiskey in Marlowe's hands was starting to get low at an alarming rate. "What kind of rules?" he prodded.
"Don't walk too loudly. Don't speak unless in response to a question. Don't get my clothes dirty. Follow every order without question. You get it the gist." Marlowe hiccupped softly. "If I broke a single one, he would make me kneel down and let him whip me."
"With an actual whip?"
Marlowe rolled her eyes. "The stripes on my back would indicate so. Anyway, out of nowhere, he started to hire hands to 'take care of business' around the estate. This didn't sit well with me." Another swallow of whiskey. "My uncle kept referring to them as ranch hands, even though he didn't farm or ranch at all. He added a new rule: obey the ranch hands. Rowley was the first." She shuddered. "And the worst."
"Did he do that to you?" He gestured toward a very thin, faded scar on Marlowe's right cheek. It had caught his attention after seeing her slice Rowley in the very same place.
"Yes. He would corner me when my uncle wasn't around...and…and…"
Arthur felt slightly ill. It was obvious what had happened. "I get the picture."
Marlowe drained the rest of the bottle in several large gulps and hiccupped. "I finally figured out what was going on. One place I was never allowed to go in the house was the basement, so naturally I wanted to know what was down there."
She had to be drunk by now. There's no way she'd be opening up like this otherwise.
Marlowe leaned back against the rock wall. "One of the hands left the basement unlocked one morning, so I snuck down there. They had three women chained by the ankles down there. None of them spoke any english. I spoke a bit of spanish, so I was able to learn that they were slaves."
"Slaves?" Arthur furrowed his brow. "There ain't no more slaves in this country. That nonsense ended years ago."
"And yet my uncle had three chained up women in his basement, and every night men would pay to do whatever they wanted to them," Marlowe spat viciously. "If that isn't slavery, I don't know what is. Anyway, I would sneak down there to talk to them. Despite their horrible circumstances, they were wonderful women. We became really close."
Arthur noticed her swaying slightly. "You should really lay off of that," he said, taking the bottle from her hand. "What happened to them?"
"We realized one of them, Josefina, was pregnant. My uncle would have killed her if he found out. I knew I had to get them out of that house, but I didn't know how. I told you, I hadn't been allowed outside the property. So I began to sneak out at night and explore the nearby woods. I met a Canadian man that sold furs had a stall nearby, and he helped me get in contact with a priest down in St. Denis who was willing to help my friends get to safety." Tears began to shine in those violet eyes. "One night, the guards around the property had all gotten a little drunk, so I stole the keys to my friend's chains and tried to guide them to safety through the forest to the Trapper, who would help me get them to the train station where we were to meet the priest. I was going to go with them. Be free of my uncle."
"But you were caught." It was beginning to piece together.
Marlowe let out a small sob. "They were gaining on us. Josefina was ill and slowing us down. So I begged them to run for it and I would buy them time. My uncle and his thugs captured me. I was so desperate." The tears flowed freely down her face. "I made him a deal. I told him I would buy the women I freed. Obviously, I didn't have the money, so the bastard made me sign a debt to him. The terms were that I would pay him a thousand dollars every three months for ten years. If I missed a payment, he would hunt my friends down and slaughter them in front of me."
She looked so broken. As much as she tried to put on a tough exterior, Arthur could see she was extremely fragile. "That is a king's ransom, how could he possibly expect you to do that? That's more than most men make in their entire life."
"My uncle," Marlowe whispered shakily, "is a sadist. It was a win either way for him. He gets richer if I succeed, and he gets to inflict whatever torture his sick mind can come up with if I fail."
Arthur rubbed his face in disbelief. "How old were you?" he asked.
"Sixteen," she whispered.
"And how many years have you been paying this debt?"
"Four. I'm not even halfway finished." She turned away. "And now I've ruined it. He is probably sending out men as we speak to find my friends."
Arthur wasn't much of a touchy man, but he did his best to put a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder, cringing at his own stiffness. Marlowe didn't shove it off immediately though, which was a good sign. "It isn't your fault, miss. That bastard knew what he was doing, trapping a young girl in a contract she can't possibly keep."
"If I wasn't so helpless, I could have made it the ten years." Tears started to spill down her cheeks. She turned her head quickly so Arthur couldn't see. "I can't fight. I can't shoot. All I know how to do is lie, and I tried to make a living off of that so I didn't have to work in a whorehouse, but we know how that turned out."
Arthur let out a chuckle. "Miss Reid, had we not met previously, you would have had Dutch eating out of your hand. If that ain't talent I don't know what is. And as for fighting, and shooting, you can learn how to do those things. The basics ain't hard."
"I better learn quick then," said Marlowe through sniffles. "Once my uncle hears that Rowley is dead, he'll hunt me down."
"And he'll have a hell of a time getting past the Van der Lindes," said Arthur firmly. She looked up at him in confusion. "After that stunt you pulled with the O'Driscolls, Dutch wanted me to invite you to ride with us. You know, formally and all that."
Marlowe snorted derisively. "With all due respect, I think I've gotten my fill of the Van der Linde hospitality."
The fire was starting to burn down. Arthur added another small log. "I think you might find that we're much more accommodating since you landed us that big score. Besides, I can tell you now that most of the gang was starting to like ya, even being our prisoner."
"Miss Grimshaw and the other women were very kind," Marlowe acknowledged with a smile.
"And 'kind' typically isn't a word used to describe Miss Grimshaw." Arthur laid on his back and pulled the blanket of his bedroll over him, yawning. "Sleep on it, will you? As much of a pleasure it has been to hear you talking rather than glaring, I'm beat."
Marlowe too laid down and turned away from him. "Goodnight, Mr. Morgan."
"And goodnight to you, Miss Reid."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The first early rays of dawn woke Arthur up the next morning, arm around the sleeping girl beside him. As the fire had died down and the air became chilly, she had moved closer and closer to him, until her back was pressed up against his chest. Though he knew she had probably moved that way in her sleep to protect herself from the chill, Arthur still couldn't help but feel butterflies in his stomach. Her dark hair had the faint aroma of lavender and campfire smoke, an intoxicating combination. Arthur laid his head back onto his pillow, not ready to move and potentially wake her up.
Unfortunately, she seemed to sense that Arthur was no longer asleep and stirred. She hastily flung Arthur's arm off of her and scooted away, eyes startled. She looked at him as though not quite knowing what to say, so Arthur decided to speak first. "Sleep well?"
"Uh, yes, I did. You?"
"No complaints here," said Arthur. He internally cringed at his response. He sounded like a creep.
A small blush crept up Marlowe's neck. "Sorry, I think I just got cold. I didn't m-"
Arthur held up his hands. "You don't need to explain nothin, miss. I don't take nothin' by it."
Marlowe opened her mouth to speak again, but then seemed to think better of it, instead rose and moved to where her horse was hitched. "Are you hungry?"
"I am if you're offering to pick some more huckleberries," Arthur replied with a wink.
Marlowe allowed herself a very small smile. The expression lightened her face up, and Arthur couldn't help but smile back. "There's a little stream near the patch I think I'm going to wash up in. I'll be back in a little bit."
He watched her disappear around the side of the rock face and shook his head. Something about Marlowe drew him to her like a moth to the flame, clouding his mind every time she was near.
It was stupid. He had to back off. He couldn't get involved with anyone right now, not with the entire gang's livelihood going to shit, and especially not with a girl nearly fifteen years his junior. No matter how captivating her violet eyes were, the gorgeous curve of her lips when she gave one of her rare smiles, her slender frame pressed into his body all night…
Arthur cursed himself and began to pack up the camp. "Cool off, old man," he muttered to himself.
After about a half an hour, Marlowe returned. Her hair was in a loose braid over her shoulder, and she had taken off her shawl and made it into a makeshift bag to carry the berries she had picked. Arthur happily helped himself. "Thank you kindly, miss."
She popped a handful in her mouth. "Your mouth is going to turn purple permanently if you don't slow down on those, Mr. Morgan."
"A fate I can most certainly live with. They're just too damn delicious."
"I can't argue with that." Marlowe cleared her throat, now looking quite serious. "I thought about your offer from last night. I want to join you, but I have some terms of my own."
"Oh?"
Marlowe sighed. "If I ride with you, I will be putting your lives at risk. If I'm supposed to be giving a cut of everything I earn to the gang, I won't have enough to keep up on my payments. And that's assuming my uncle will forgive my lateness on this most recent payment. Scores like yesterday's are not a normal occurrence, you know."
Arthur nodded. "I understand that."
"So, here is my proposition." Marlowe leaned forward to make sure his eyes were locked with hers. Arthur briefly wondered if she knew how spectacularly entrancing her eyes were, and if she ever used them to manipulate people. She had to; he felt like he was under a spell now. "I need your gang to help me kill my uncle."
Arthur laughed. "Is that all?"
Marlowe shook her head. "It's not as easy as it sounds. His home is like a fortress. He staffs at least ten or fifteen armed men at all times, and he is extraordinarily cruel and sadistic. It isn't an easy task, but once he's dead, my debt will be absolved. I'll be free."
He tilted his head in consideration. It seemed like a manageable enough feat, despite Marlowe's doubts, but ultimately, getting the full gang involved would be Dutch's call. "Ride with me back to camp and let me speak with Dutch. I think we can do that."
"Oh, and one more thing."
"What's that?"
"I want my knife back."
Arthur rose and wiped the berry juice on his pants, chuckling. "Just bat your eyes in Javier's direction and I'm sure he'll give it back real quick."
Thanks for reading! Struggling to find the time to write lately but I promise I manage to shame myself into continuing every couple of weeks. Also, I just started playing the Mass Effect games for the first time (I'm obsessed!!!), and I feel the fanfic creative juices flowing again, so keep an eye out for a ME fic soon.Please review!
