Thank you so much for reading everyone! I'm glad you seem to be liking it! :D
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Millie, Daisy, Beth, and Jax. That's it :(
Chapter One
The door burst open suddenly behind me, sending the lot of us jumping and turning. Men stormed into the church, armed with rifles and pistols, and my stomach churned. A skulking, sharply-dressed man stalked slowly into the room, scanning over us in disdain.
Bartholomew Bogue.
The congregation fell silent, a thick blanket of trepidation, of fear, falling over us all. Emma curled into Matthew's side, peering back at me with wide, frightened eyes. Drawing Daisy onto my lap, I drew my lower lip between my teeth and shushed her softly as she whimpered and whined, hands to her ears. My eyes never left Bogue, even when his disinterested blue gaze swept over me and my daughter; it was never smart to look away from a viper.
He stalked to the altar, rattling a dirty old jar as he went, waiting impatiently for the preacher to step aside; he inevitably did. Everyone did for Bartholomew Bogue. He stood behind the pulpit, hands resting on the Bible, his dead eyes running over every last one of us.
"I'm surprised to see you all here," he announced, his tone flat, if not loud, "last I knew it was not a Sunday and when do any of you obey the laws of your church when you're not obligated to?"
Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats; others sat stock-still, too scared to move for fear he would set his unruly men upon them.
"It's almost as though you all are… plotting," he accused softly, dangerously, tipping his chin and scowling down his nose at us, "against what, I don't know. Your Black Widow is involved in this gathering, so I know it doesn't concern her place in my little town. So… Preacher?"
The soft-spoken Irishman opened his mouth, before snapping it shut abruptly and dipping his head, "'Tisn't a plot, Mr. Bogue. It's a meeting. We gather regularly, that's all…"
"Lying in the house of God?" queried the businessman, condescension lacing his tone as he tutted, "my, my, not much of a preacher, now, are you?" He didn't wait for an answer from the flustered man, turning back to the rest of us and gesturing to the jar beside the Bible. "I'll forgive the your flagrant deception this one time. And do you know why? Because. Of. This."
All eyes fell on it, as though it were some unholy surprise, and I hugged Daisy even tighter to me.
"You, child," he called suddenly and, for a terrible moment, I thought he meant the tiny blonde in my arms; guilt swept through me at the relief I felt when I realized he summoned another child, a young boy, to his side. "Come. Stick your hand inside. It won't hurt you, I promise."
Promises from Bogue were nothing to write home about and my heart pounded as he grabbed the boy's wrist and growled, "You think you own this land. You don't. It's mine. I came to this dusty, stinking place and made it what it was. You would not be here if it weren't for me. You would be in some squalid, derelict tenement in New York City, working for scraps in a workhouse. Your children would be working in factories, losing limbs and feeding the rats. But you're here. In my town. A far better life, were you to ask me. This- this in here, this is life. This is power. This is God. Would you deny your God?"
He released the boy's hand, ushering him to remove it from the jar. Silent and trembling, he did as he was told, releasing a handful of dirt across the ground and racing back to his father.
"I offer you twenty dollars for your land," Bogue stated, "nothing more. You have three weeks to decide, but believe me, if you decide in a manner I do not see fit, I will be most displeased. This is my only offer."
Without another word and ignorant of the uproar he had caused, he strode out of the church. His men began shooting off their pistols, their rifles, bellowing and yipping like wild beasts, and ushering us all from the sanctuary. I didn't need telling twice. Daisy wrapped her tiny legs around my waist and I pressed her head to my neck as I jogged quickly from the building. Matthew and Emma weren't far behind, his arms secured tightly around his wife's trembling frame.
Others followed, Preacher McAllister forcibly removed by several of Bogue's men. Though he protested, his words were gone unheeded, his body thrown to the ground and kicked into submission.
A tall man, blond and blue-eyed, who I knew as James McCann, waited at Bogue's side, eyes glued to his boss's face. When the robber baron nodded, he strode back toward the church, yanking a blazing torch from another one of Bogue's grizzled old fighters and lobbing it forcefully amongst the pews.
It didn't take long for the whole building to become engulfed in flames, the heartless men laughing as we stared on in horror. Though Daisy struggled to turn her face, to stare up at the sight that caused so much protest, so much amusement, I kept her firmly in place. I wouldn't allow her to witness such an abhorrent sight, not if it could be helped.
Matthew strayed from Emma and shoved away the men beating down the preacher. I caught his wife's arm, shaking my head hastily and muttering, "Don't get involved, Emma. Don't draw attention-"
But Matthew did that well enough on his own. After he was certain Preacher McAllister was steady on his feet, he rounded on Bogue, his blue eyes blazing with hatred, "What kind of man are you?! These people have done nothing to you! Nothing at all!"
Bogue's shoulders rolled and I struggled to keep hold of Emma; her worried green gaze flicking from her husband to the man in black. The clearing fell silent, aside from the crackling of the growing blaze behind us. Bogue turned, stalking slowly toward Matthew, but the farmer held his ground, eyes hard and jaw set.
Without a word, Bogue unholstered a pistol from his hip, leveled it at Matthew's chest, and fired one, singular shot. He went down in an instant and chaos ensued.
Though I wanted to run, I knew the danger it posed; I released Emma, dropping to my knees. I doubled over, curling myself around Daisy's shrieking form and tried my best to silence her. I fell into as tight a ball as I could without hurting my daughter, eyes screwed shut as I waited desperately for the madness to end.
When it did, when I slowly drew myself onto my haunches, I stared in awe at the grisly scene around me. Matthew was sprawled on his back, eyes open wide and unblinking. Emma had thrown herself over his chest, sobbing and clinging to his bloodied shirt. Another woman, Annabelle Williams, had been killed, as well, and Thomas Adams, whose wife Melinda mourned over his fallen body, their newborn baby wailing in her arms.
But Bogue and his men were gone, kicking up dust as they disappeared from sight. How that man - or any of his followers - could murder these innocent townspeople in cold blood, could burn down the church, without a single ounce of remorse was mind-boggling. Though I couldn't say I liked most of them, I knew them; I had even known some of them well, considered them friends once upon a time. To see them butchered in the street…
Shakily, I loosened my death-like grip on my daughter, attempting to drawing her away from my chest. She refused, though, and it took a great deal of coaxing for her to release her grip in kind. Positioning her away from the burning church did me no good; she turned in my hold, with bright watery eyes, and burst into tears.
Bringing her back to my chest, I hugged her tightly and rocked her gently in my arms, rising to my feet. Seeing the church was one thing; I refused to let her see the bodies littering the ground. I had done what I could to protect her from that once; I wouldn't let her see it now.
Staring helplessly at the carnage around me, I could do nothing to console Emma; in doing so would bring Daisy closer to Matthew, and that wouldn't do. And the others, they wouldn't accept any assistance from me anyway.
So, ensuring Daisy could see no more than the lilac fabric of my gown, I hastened away from the church, refusing to look back and praying none of Bogue's men were lingering to watch the bonfire they had created.
/
Racing across the field, I raced up to the massive, white farmhouse and shoved the door open with a shoulder. Beth was waiting, tears in her eyes, her gaze drifting over my shoulder to the plumes of black smoke rising from the church's steeple. I practically shoved my protesting daughter into her arms, running back down off the porch and around the house, screeching, "Lock the door!"
Shoving open the wooden gate of the corral, I called for Jax and, with the herding dog's help, urged the sheep and horses back into the barn. In a frenzy, I put them away as best I could, before grabbing the dog by his collar and nearly dragging him back to the house.
Covered in sweat and dirt, I slammed my back to the door and latched it quickly behind me. Chest heaving, I closed my eyes and allowed myself a moment to breathe before pushing away and trudging into the kitchen.
Beth sat at the head of the oaken table, rocking my daughter in her arms and shushing her gently. When I gathered up Daisy, the maid met my gaze and wiped a tear from her eye, "Are we safe, Ms. Millie?"
Nodding firmly, I pressed a kiss to Daisy's wet cheek and announced, "We are. We'll be fine. Daisy, love, you should sleep."
"I'm scared, Mama," she whimpered, pulling away from the crook of my neck and sniffling pitifully. Her cheeks were stained red, fat tears trailing from her damp lashes and onto my dress. Still, she yawned and wiped at her runny nose with the back of her hand. "I don't wanna. What if that man comes here?"
"He won't," I assured her gently, stroking her hair and walking her to the blue, brocade sofa in the wide, spacious living room, "sleep, love. I'll be here, and so will Beth."
"And Jax?" she queried softly, weakly. Hearing his name, the dog trotted into the room, hopping onto the sofa beside me and licking the tears from Daisy's face. She giggled softly before going limp in my arms, allowing me to settle her onto the plush cushions beside me.
The dog curled up beside her, protective as ever, resting his head atop her chest even as Beth entered the room and draped a lovely crocheted afghan over the pair of them.
"Ms. Millie-"
"Soon, Beth," I replied, staring down at my daughter and stroking her face with a finger. It didn't take long for my soothing ministrations to put her to sleep, her wide, red eyes drifting shut and a soft snore to escape her.
Rising to my feet, I gestured for the maid to follow me; she was hot on my heels, gathering her apron in her hands and wringing it nervously, "What happened out there? I heard gunfire and the church- oh my!"
"Bogue," I hissed, lip curling as I stalked toward the wide, open window and searching the fields for any sign of the man or his merry band of killers, "who else?"
"The gunshots?"
"Mrs. Williams. Mr. Adams. Matthew."
"Mr. Cullen?! You're sure?"
"I've seen dead men before, Beth, remember?" I queried rhetorically, pacing back into the living room, careful not to wake my slumbering daughter, and examined the dusty road at the bottom of the hill.
Ensuring that all three of them, not to mention my livestock, were safe was my top priority and, though that was done, I couldn't help but feel apprehensive, edgy, at the thought of Bogue's men approaching the house. They had obviously been given leave to do what they wanted; if they came for my cattle, or for my home, there was little I could do to stop them.
Except take them on.
And that wouldn't end well for me. Or Daisy and Beth.
"I- no, I remember that well, Ms. Millie," Beth sighed, a hand to her mouth in anxiousness as I returned to the kitchen and dropped myself into a chair with all the grace of a cow. She came as well, sitting herself beside me and rubbing a shoulder consolingly. "I just can't believe they killed him."
"I can," I retorted hotly, dropping my head to my hands, willing the image of Matthew's broken body from my mind, "Bogue is a monster. You know that. His men are no better, doing his dirty work like mindless animals. They killed a woman; what's to stop them from killing children, if they get the chance?"
"God help us if they ever do," she inhaled sharply, worrying her lip, "Miss Daisy-"
"Didn't see any of them," I sighed, rubbing my forehead and nodding as she muttered a grateful prayer, "just the church and it sickens me that she had to see even that. This can't go on, Beth. If-"
A knock sounded on the door and we both stiffened, my heart leaping to my throat. Though Beth latched onto an arm, hoping to keep me in my seat and pretend as though none of us were home, I yanked myself from her grasp and made for the foyer.
Retrieving a rifle from the ornate umbrella stand beside the door, I pressed my shoulder to the white-washed oak door and queried sharply, "Who is it?"
"Teddy Q, ma'am."
Teddy Q.
He wasn't a friend of mine, no, but he was of Emma's. Peering through the narrow window beside the door, I saw that he was alone, shifting nervously on my porch and raking a hand through his thick, light brown locks.
Taking a steadying breath, I yanked the door open, sure that the rifle was visible in my hand. He noticed it immediately, stepping back a pace and raising his hands, "I come in peace, ma'am. I'm not with Bogue, that bastard."
He made to spit at his name, but realized that would mean dirtying my steps and twisted his lips in disgust instead.
"I know," I replied easily, shouldering the rifle and quirking a dangerous brow, "that doesn't mean you're welcome here."
"I-ma'am-"
"I'm not an old lady," I growled suddenly, "it's Millie. Now what do you want?"
"Ma- Ms. Millie," he twisted his hat in his hands, "Ms. Emma sent me. She said you could help her. Help all of us, really."
"With what?" I queried, curious enough to drop the gun back into the umbrella stand, "Matthew's funeral expenses? He was a good man; I wouldn't-"
"No," he shook his head adamantly, nostrils flaring, "with takin' back the town from Bogue."
/
So no Faraday yet, but soon. I'm thinking within the next few chapters and I cannot wait!
Doctorwhoamypond: thank you! I'm glad you like it! :D
NoVacancyMind: me too! I really appreciate this! I can't wait to get into where she meets up with Faraday ;)
Whitelion69: thank you so much!
Lostfeather1: thank you! I agree; it was really good. I'm glad you like her!
Jesslynn7: aw I'm sorry. I agree, I didn't like that they killed most of them off :( But I'm glad you like this story and I hope you continue to!