Lemon's gait is nice and rhythmic, Arthur nearly falls asleep. The sun has long set and they began their long trek back to the camp. Florence hasn't said a word to him since she told him she possibly regrets him rescuing her.
What kind of shit is that? The man was choking her and if it wasn't for him, she'd be dead. He tries not to let it bother him, not get underneath his skin. But it's sitting there, poking him with a stick. Little holes in his skin."What kind of shit was that?" he finally asks. "Maybe? Maybe?" His voice unintentionally raises.
Florence is slower, taking the shire at a more leisurely pace. He pulls at Lemon's reins, turning the horse around and stopping Chance in his tracks. "If it wasn't for me, Florence, you'd be dead."
"You don't think I understand that? I know that?" Florence clutches her horn. The metal bites into her skin, he can see her losing pigmentation around the curve of her palm. "I know I'd be dead, but my husband. My hus-" Tears roll down her cheeks and she savagely wipes at them. "My husband is dead. He's gone. I can't be expected to just be okay with that."
It's rare he feels guilty and this is the second time this woman has had this affect on him. "Right. I'm sorry."
She's not done in her anger. Her eyes are blazing and narrowed, trained on him. "He wasn't the best. Hell, he was the worst man I've ever interacted with. But he was. My. Husband." Her body shakes as the tears continue like a constant stream down her face.
"Let it out," he says finally after finding his voice. "Scream if you need to."
Florence looks at him like he's crazy, her eyebrows pulled up so high, it tightens the skin around the corner of her eyes. "You ain't no lady, Florence. You're wearing men's clothing. Pants. You know how to shoot a gun." Poorly and her aim could use some serious work, but she knows how to work it at least. "Scream! Let the world know your pain. It certainly let you have its."
Florence takes a deep breath and for a moment, he doesn't think she'll do it. Turning her head towards the sky, the line of her throat and the faint bruises against her skin straight at him, she breathes in deeper and screams as loud as she can. Chance pins his ears against his head but stands firm.
Lemon dances, nickering and neighing in fear, tossing his head. "Oh, stop it boy," Arthur whispers. He calms, huffing through his nose as he shifts his weight.
"Feel better?"
Florence nods, massaging her neck. "Surprisingly yes."
"Good. Good." He turns his horse around and continues down the path, the tension between them lessened. It's still there, him killing her husband, but soon that'll fade. Soon she'll find her own way in life and he won't have to be so rough with her. Or talk to her like he did.
"Oh mister! Mister!" a feminine voice shouts.
Arthur groans. They are so close to Horseshoe Overlook. So close. "Yes?"
"Oh mitser, please help. My husband and son are- please help!" The woman flails her hands, pointing back the way she came.
"If I'm going to help you, I need to know what you need help with." Arthur rests his hand on the sawed off shotgun at his belt.
"The O'Driscolls, they have my boys. My husband and son. They have them because they couldn't pay the borrowed money back. You have to help. Please, you have to."
Keep a low profile. Don't go starting fights you don't plan to win. Dutch's voice echoes in Arthur's mind.
Going up against the O'Driscoll boys could end in his death. Or Florence's. And he doesn't have time to gather men to go against them if he plans on saving the men. Plans whirl through his head. He could send Florence ahead, but she doesn't know this area and there's no guarantee they would follow her. Of course, if she mentions the O'Driscoll gang, they would gather without a word.
"Where? Where'd they take your boys?"
"I heard one of them mention the Cumberland Forest."
He pulls out his map, holding it up against the light of the moon to read it properly. Cumberland Forest isn't far from Valentine, but from what he remembers what little he's explored of the area, there's a large fortress he didn't dare touch and trees everywhere. Finding their hideout, assuming the fortress isn't tied to the O'Driscolls, is going to be time-consuming and hard.
"Go back to camp," Arthur says. "I want you to get Bill, Javier and Lenny. Tell Dutch what's going on."
Florence shakes her head. "What's going on? Who are the O'Driscolls?"
"This isn't the time for questions, Florence. You need to ride back to the camp and get the boys." He wheels Lemon around and takes off towards Valentine, kicking up dust in his wake.
Florence encourages Chance to run as fast as he can, but it's obvious the large horse isn't built for speed. His loud hoof beats are thunderous and agonizingly slow as she finally recognizes the clump of trees. A shout nearly makes her pull her gun. The voice isn't familiar to her.
"Who's there?" The outline of a man advances on her, a large rifle aimed at her head.
"Flo-Florence! Arthur brought me back to get some men for..." What was the name again? The dark haired man, as she can see when he steps into moonlight, has serious scars across his face. Fresh ones.
"Oh, you're the woman Arthur brought back. John Marston." He waves at her, shouldering the gun. "Men for what?"
"Some gang... O'Skulls or O'Discolls or-"
"The O'Driscolls?" John growls.
"Yeah. That's the one."
"What about them?"
"They have this poor woman's family. Said they couldn't pay the gang back, so they took the son and husband."
"So?" John turns around. "It's not our business. Dutch told us to keep a low profile and going against the O'Driscolls is doing the exact opposite."
"They're in the Cumberland Forest and Arthur has already gone ahead."
"Of course he has. You might as well go and tell Dutch." Florence kicks Chance into a trot, nearly riding the horse straight into the camp. Miss O'Shea's voice stops her, telling her to take the animal out. It wastes precious time, but she does as she's asked without question.
"Dutch!" The man appears from the centered tent, book in his hand. He seems to be always reading. "Arthur sent me to tell you that the O'Driscolls have some woman's husband and son. He went to rescue them and he wants me to gather Javier, Lenny and Bill."
He rubs a hand over his mouth, pointing his fingers down onto his chin. "Boy's going to be the death of himself. We aren't usually in the service of helping and rescuing without money in return, but since Arthur has taken it upon himself to go without speaking to the group, I suppose you'll have to take them to Cumberland Forest, won't you?" His eyes burn holes into her, peering deep into her broken soul.
"Me? I don't know where Cumberland Forest is. Much less-" How to lead men into battle. Assuming, correctly so as she'll learn later, they are going to be shooting at each other. The gun is no longer a comforting weight, but rather a death-trap attached to her waist. "Who did he want again?"
"Javier, Lenny and Bill," Florence repeats.
"Javier! Get Bill from patrolling and someone wake Lenny." It takes a few minutes for the men to gather around her. She's glad for her height, though most of them still have a good two or three inches.
Lenny is barely twenty years old, if that. A child in the midst of adults. Javier and Bill both shrug on jackets, watching her for instructions. "Uh." Intelligent.
"Arthur headed to the Cumberland Forest. We should go after him?" Her sentence ends in a question with a slightly higher pitched word. She clears her throat. "Yeah. Let's get going."
Chance is slower than the other horses. The men ahead of her easily joke, tossing back and forth words over the wind, leaving her out of it. Lenny slows his horse to match her pace. "You'll fit in, eventually. Just give them time to get used to you and the idea of a woman going out with us," he begins as if he can sense her thoughts.
"You a mind reader?"
Lenny laughs. "No, ma'am. I just know what it's like to be on the outside."
The temperature drops the longer they are out. Valentine is quiet and dark as they trot through, kicking the horses into a gallop as soon as they leave the main street. "Did the woman say how many of the gang came and picked up her boys?" Javier asks quietly.
"No."
"Did she say how they took them? Guns? Amount of horses? Anything?"
"No. She didn't. And I didn't think to ask." Florence glares at the man's back.
"Why is Arthur wasting time rescuing this woman's family? Is she paying us? Sucking our dicks when we get back?" Florence bunches her face together, disliking the talk coming out of Bill's mouth.
"Not in front of the lady, Bill," Lenny chides.
"Lady? Boy, she ain't no lady, parading around with pants and a gun to her hip. If she's going to ride with men, she needs to learn to be a man."
"I don't think pissing on every tree will help me." Florence gives him a tight smile as he turns around to stare at her. It earns her laughter from Lenny, who she decides she likes very much.
The landscape is a blur as they come closer to the Cumberland Forest. Rocks, dirt and sagebrush give way to tall, skinny trees fresh with leaves. "Can you tell which way Arthur went?" Javier brushes off Lenny's question, dismounts and begins to look at the ground. Without a word, he leads his horse by the reins down a path Florence doesn't see.
It's a small clearing with nothing but tents. She can see a boy not much older than fifteen and what looks to be his father tied up back to back near the main campfire. "Where's our money?" one of the men growls. "Where'd you put it?"
"We don't have the money! We don't. Please let my boy go. He did nothing to you," the father pleads.
Florence steps forward to help them, but is stopped by Lenny's hand. He puts a finger to his lips, pointing to a dark figure not far from them that has to be Arthur. Her heart leaps. In the quiet of the forest, the darkness of the night, he's a knight in shining armor. Much like the ones in the stories her father read her when she was little. God above, hope his soul rests in peace.
Arthur sneaks back towards them, keeping low. "How many did you count?" Javier asks.
"There about nine or ten. I can't get a clear shot."
"Why are we rescuing these idiots? If they didn't have money to spare, they shouldn't have borrowed it," Bill mumbles.
"Shut it, Bill. I'm in no mood to play." He nods to Florence, his back to her. "Look, you barely know how to shoot a gun and you sure as hell don't know how to aim. I want you to stay here."
"No. I'm not going to stand by while you all risk your lives."
"We've risked our lives before in worse fights and have come out on top. Just stay here."
Florence huffs, feeling like a child scolded for getting too close to fire. "You tell me to find my own way, to stand up. And now you're telling me to hide? Pick one."
Arthur puts a hand through his hair, turning to her on his heel. "Standing up to Bill is one thing. Standing up to one of the more ruthless gangs without the proper gun training, that's just stupid."
Stupid. She'll show him stupid. In one motion, without thinking, she stands and enters the camp. Her foot snaps a twig and the men twist, several guns trained on her.
Stupid, stupid woman. Who the hell knew she'd be so goddman stubborn? "We need to move in, men," Bill says nearly too loud.
"No, fucking damnit hell. We rush in, we kill her." Arthur thumbs the trigger of his rifle.
"Oh please help mister," Florence cries, looking behind her as if the boogeyman was going to jump. "A man was chasing me. He wanted me to-to-"
Some of the men chuckle. A dark haired man approaches her, his gun trained to the ground. "Don't you worry, lady. You're safe here." His voice is like sugar, sliding over Arthur's skin. He can see Florence shiver when the man's hand glides up her arm to her shoulder.
And he can see the translation of her movement from her right hand down to the holster. "No!" Arthur shoots a man behind him in the head, signalling the beginning of a firefight. Florence instantly drops, hands over her head, making herself as small as she possibly could.
Bill whoops with excitement, shooting his gun from his hip. Luckily none of his shots hit the men they are rescuing.
Somehow in the midst of the chaos, the man directly in front of Florence hadn't gotten killed. "Stop it right there mister. Take your friends and turn around, go along your merry way." He waves his gun at the tied up men behind him.
"I can't do that, friend. You have something that belongs with me." Arthur gestures to Florence. "You let her go and then we'll turn around." It's four guns against one and the O'Driscoll isn't dumb enough to think he'd win.
"Guns down." Arthur makes a signal, both Bill and Javier lower their guns. The O'Driscoll keeps his gun trained on each of them, switching from one man to another as he pushes Florence hard. She lands against Arthur and he embraces her.
The O'Driscoll backs away, tripping over various things on the ground. Seemingly satisfied no one raised their gun on him, he whips around, searching widely for his horse. Arthur rises his rifle with one arm and shoots him in the head.
"What the hell? You told him you'd let him go!" Florence pushes against him, backing into a tree.
"And all he would've done is returned with more men. It's best they are all dead than leave one alive with a grudge." He shoulders his rifle and unties both the father and son. "Your wife is beyond herself. I would suggest you don't go borrowing money from strangers again."
"Oh yes. Thank you. Thank you!" The father and son grab two horses at the edge of the camp.
"Javier, please go with them. Make sure they don't get back into trouble. Bill, just get back to camp. Lenny, keep Bill out of trouble and let Dutch know we were successful." The men nod, glancing between the rising tension of Florence and Arthur, glad to be gone.
"You have got to be the stupidest woman I have ever met," Arthur yells after they leave, throwing his hands in the air. "What were you thinking? Walking into the camp like that? You could've easily been killed."
Florence stares at him, eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears. No. Don't you dare cry. "You tell me to take care of myself and when I try-"
"I told you to stand up to Bill. A mostly harmless man who, if he pulled a gun at you, would be out on his ass before he could think properly. Not in the middle of a damn O'Driscoll camp. Did you think before you went through with it?"
"No. I didn't. But if I had-"
"You wouldn't have done it. Damnit. I am responsible for you. Your safety is my concern. You can't just walk off like that. There are plans. We are a team. You have to be a team player to fit in with the gang." Arthur slaps his hands together, punctuating his sentences.
"I'm sorry I'm such a burden," Florence spits at him. She makes a show of wiping her tears as if this will calm down his anger.
"Don't you dare. I'm not in the mood for hysterics, much less tears Florence. You could have left when I took you from Valentine, but instead you came with me. And if you are going to be out and about with the men, you have to learn how to stop and listen. Not just act like you're on your own. It's not just your life at stake. It's everyone else's." He hasn't met someone this single-minded and stubborn since John. He runs his hand through his hair, staring down at the dead body of the O'Driscoll in front of him. "I was a bit harsh, but what I'm saying is true. You have to be a team player. You've got to understand that all of this is a team thing. We're a team." He motions between them.
Florence grabs her hair and undoes the tie, running her delicate fingers through the interwoven strands. "You're right," she says in a small voice, looking away from him. "You're completely right and I'm sorry." She sighs, puffing out her cheeks as she does so.
Guilt flares in his chest, but his anger is justified. He almost lost her. Whoa. Shaking the thought from his head, he watches her. They stand for a few moments, the only sound between them a wolf howling in the distance. "Come on. It's late and I'm exhausted. Let's find a spot to camp."
"Camp? Why not go back?"
"I'm dead on my feet and you look like your about to fall asleep. I don't need either of us falling out of the saddle." Arthur grabs Lemon and Chance's reins, walking them a good distance through the narrow spots in trees until the camp of the O'Driscolls all but disappeared. If a lawman were to come up on the camp, they wouldn't suspect Arthur and Florence.
He finds a small clearing and gathers wood for a nice fire. Florence sits, looking unsure of what to do. He gives her his jacket, noticing the way she's subtly shivering. A roaring fire warms them in no time. "I am sorry the way I went about talking to you back there."
"No, you were right. I went in thinking I could prove something. And all I did was risk my life." She puts her hat on the ground next to her and tucks a hair behind her ear. "It's hard to be told to be your own person and still have to be rescued around every corner."
"I've been telling you this for a little more than twenty-four hours. You jumped into it. Don't take on the O'Driscolls. Take on Bill," he says with a slight chuckle.
Florence joins in on his laughter. He pulls meat from his pack and sticks it on the end of his knife. "Hungry?"
"Famished." Florence settles against the tree behind her back, eyes turned up to the stars. She almost can't see the midnight sky. Her stupid actions leave her feeling weightless and scared. She'd done that without thinking, stepping into that camp. Just to prove to Arthur she can take care of herself. Why is she so quick to prove she's not some helpless woman screaming for the first man to jump to her rescue?
Her fingers search for the feathers she got rid of. William, no matter how sweet he was, is part of the past. It's the best thing to let go of it. He's dead. Now and forever. "Careful, it's hot." The meat steams, mixing with the smoke from the fire. He hands her the knife and she waits for it to cool.
Does he care for her? "Why are you so insistent I stay alive?"
"Why do you keep putting yourself in positions that might kill you?" Arthur fires back. "I didn't rescue you to have you killed."
Florence nods, taking small bites of the meat. It's got no real taste to it, but it's the first real meal, she realizes, she's had in a little over twenty-four hours. "Right."
"You said something about Chance having a second chance at life. Not that we were going to kill him, but don't you think maybe," Arthur shrugs, sticking another piece of meat on the knife and sticking it over the fire, "you named him Chance for your second chance as well?" His blue eyes look sideways at her, mouth slightly open in a smile.
"You're smarter than you look, Mr. Morgan," Florence says, laughing quietly.
"Well, miss, my brain is there, I think." His smile widens. "Now we'll have to figure out this whole camping thing. I only have one bedroll and tent."
Florence's stomach flips at the thought of sharing a tent with him. He takes the piece of meat into his mouth, holding it like an odd shaped cigar out the side and pulls his tent off of the back of Lemon. Setting it up takes little to no time. The corners are nailed down at the corners and two sticks go up on either side. It's enough room for one, maybe two if they sleep nearly on top of each other.
"I can sleep out here. With both jackets, I'll be okay." Arthur seems to consider it.
"Nah, we should be okay. Come on." He finishes the meat quickly, making sure the horses are hitched to trees. She climbs into the tent, already warming from his body heat. "You sleep. I'm not quite tired yet."
Florence doesn't argue. She gives him back his jacket, taking off her and curling next to him so close her shins are up against his thigh.
Her breathing evens out. Arthur looks behind him, twisting his body as to not move so much he'll wake her up. Why is he so protective of her? It's ridiculous. It only reminds him of what happened the last time he got involved with a woman. His heart broken and he was sent on his way by her daddy. He hasn't met Florence's daddy, but he can't imagine she'd want someone as rough as him.
As he's repeated to many strangers, he's not a good man. And that's not bound to change.
Florence is a stupidly smart, stubborn, beautiful woman. If he continues down his current path, he knows he'll fall. Arthur lays down, their bodies touching. She's on her side, headed turned to him and hair falling in her face. He tucks her soft hair behind an ear, studying her features. Florence shifts, getting closer to him, tucking herself against his side. He doesn't dare move in case he wakes her up.
The light dies down, things around him becoming darkly outlined. Out of instinct, Arthur raises an arm and wraps it underneath her neck. She adjusts accordingly, sighing gently, her breath dancing across his cheek. This is as far as it's going, he swears to himself.