Disclaimer: I don't own the Hatfields and McCoys series. Though historical accuracy may appear, this is a work of pure fiction. I do not claim any connection to the real William 'Cap' Hatfield, or any other historical people mentioned in this story.

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I'm loving this story though, so here's the next chapter. Thanks to those who took the time to review!

Almost Heaven, West Virginia
Part III

Hatfield Cabin
Logan, West Virginia, 1878

When William had arrived back home with Libby on his horse, his mother was at the door waiting with a lantern in hand. She ushered him inside and sent Robert E, who hadn't been able to sleep with worry, to put Will's horse away and ushered both of the cold children inside.

Levicy had stopped immediately once the door closed behind her though, and held Libby out at arms length, seeing her son's coat hanging off of her filthy and damp clothes, before she pulled the girl to her and hugged her in a vice-like grip, closing her eyes to thank whoever had watched over her out there tonight and allowed her to return safely to them.

But Libby was noticeably shivering, and Levicy quickly rushed her into the bedroom she shared with her husband, helping Libby out of her ruined dress and into a warm set of Levicy's nightclothes, but not before she stuck Libby in a hot tub she'd been keeping warm with new water just in case Libby had come back in this condition. But almost as soon as the steam left the water, Libby had wanted to get right out, seeing as how her hair had been matted with mud and the bathwater was now clouded with it. The warmth had heated her up quickly, but once she was out of the water, she'd caught the chill again while drying off and putting the nightdress on.

Stopping before she set her up in front of the fire to warm herself, Levicy kept her in the bedroom with the door closed and crouched down, holding the girl's shoulders and looking her straight in the eye. She could see how what had happened had terrorized her, and was afraid of the answer to her inevitable question.

"Libby, those men who did this. They never touched you any, right?" Lucy had not been so lucky, according to Wall, and though Libby looked unharmed, Levicy needed to be sure, and hear it from the girl's mouth that none of those bandits had defiled her in any way.

"N-no ma'm. I—I ran off before they even s-seen me," she whispered weakly through chattering teeth and continuous weeping, a wave of relief washing over the matriarch of the Hatfield clan nevertheless.

Ushering Libby into the den where the fireplace was blazing, ready for her return just as everything else had been, some furs and quilts piled on the floor with a pallet for her. The kettle whistled and steamed, the water Levicy had out on to boil for tea while Libby had been washing.

Will had changed his clothes in record time, wrapped a quilt around himself, and sat near the fire, head hanging in thought as he waited for Libby to come out to her bed for the night. He couldn't stop thinking about how her mother was dead, just like that, murdered for no reason. He wanted to ask Libby all about it, but he knew it wasn't appropriate right now. It might never be.

"Wrap her up, would ya William?" Levicy asked, though it was not an arguable point. Immediately, he stood up and shook his hair from his eyes, trying to push away the thoughts of Lucy's bright light being put out like that, watching her daughter shuffle over to him in his mother's nightclothes, before she sat on the straw mattress and Will started to drape the furs around her legs and the quilts over her shoulders.

He stood behind her and just watched her for a minute, while his mother prepared tea for them. William couldn't remember being so scared in his life as he was when he thought he was going to have to go to the fishing hole without Libby. She looked so cold and scared, and just plain fragile, he was afraid to look away from her in case she broke the instant he did.

"Need anythin' Lib?" he asked, sure he'd get no sleep tonight despite her being safe and sound under his own father's roof.

Libby's big eyes, usually smooth and warm, like molten honey, were dark and mossy, fear-stricken, and brimming with tears. Will, again, found himself swallowing a lump in his throat. He hated seeing her like this. "Could ya just… sit here with me? Just for a bit?" she requested softly, and Will knew there was no denying her right now, so he nodded his head once and made himself comfortable beside her, startled when she fell into his side and whimpered quietly to herself, the Hatfield boy compelled to envelop her in his own quilt, pulling a few more over them both so they would get warm faster.

To him, she still felt cold, though the way she was crying it was difficult to tell what was from sobbing and what were shivers. "It's gonna be okay, Libby. We'll find whoever done it, an' they'll be sorry."

Levicy brought them the tea, brow rising at the sight of them, not going unnoticed by Will. He had the decency to look uncomfortable with the fact he was on, what was really, a bed with a girl right in front of his own mother. But Levicy said nothing, not wanting to upset Libby any further and knowing it was harmless for the time being, so William stayed put, rubbing circles on Libby's back comfortingly before she was finally able to control her emotions enough to sip her tea.

By the time Anse and Chet had returned, Johnse, Ellison and Wall in tow, Libby had finished her hot drink, now warmed up enough to stop shaking, and fallen asleep. And as for William, he hadn't been sure when he'd dozed off, but the sound of his father entering the house woke him, though he was too drowsy to stir immediately.

"She's here Chet! She's safe! Thank the Lord she's safe! But I'd let her get her sleep. It's a miracle she was even able to ta drift off," Levicy whispered to the men as they entered the cabin, quietly as they could.

Heaving a heavy sigh of alleviation, and nearly collapsing into a nearby chair with his head in his palms, Chet thanked the heavens. "Thank the Lord," he breathed out, looking like a different man they had never seen before, a broken man. But there was still a ray of hope for Chet now. He had his little girl, and that was what mattered most to him now that his wife was gone.

Will opened his eyes slowly, coming face to face with Libby, who had her fists balled near her mouth and looked to be in an uneasy rest, buried under most of the covers. He didn't even remember doing it he'd been so wiped out, but Will had been sure that they hadn't been beneath any of the quilts together before he'd lay down beside her and thrown his arm over her shoulder protectively, watching her until he'd passed out himself. And even though he knew it was something his father might not be too happy about when he arrived back, and maybe hers too, he couldn't leave her, and since his mother hadn't made him, he hadn't.

William listened for a while to what they said around the table, all warming their own blood with some tea, waiting to be growled at by his father for indecency, but it never came. It was only addressed once, and Savage Chet himself had turned a blind eye. "Don't disturb 'em Anse. They's fine. I ain't gonna take my eyes off her the resta the night anyhow."

Chet felt like at least a part of his world was restored, looking at the figure of his daughter, safe, and sound asleep beside Anse' second son. Johnse had told them they were lucky Will had found her when he had, because he didn't think his brother would ever go home without her. Chet was proud of Anse's boy, and grateful above all. William had always been good to his Elizabeth, and it made him feel secure, knowing he would watch her back when Chet wasn't around to someday.

Mortality was all too real, now that he had a late wife.

"Let 'em sleep Anse. Cause I don't think anya us'll be," Ellison reminded his brother, who looked displeased by the sight of his son laying in bed with the Sawyer girl, or any girl under his roof, despite the context of the situation. With Will being fourteen, and Libby on her way to twelve, Anse didn't see it as instilling proper values in the girl, allowing them to lie next to one another through the rest of the night, however, he said no more on it, realizing this was a dire circumstance and may have had something to do with William particularly being the one who had rescued her out there.

William was finally able to relax again, once they began instead discussing what steps to take next, how to find the culprits before the sheriff so they could settle things with trail justice, Lucy's arrangements, contacting her relations. Thankfully, neither of her parents were alive to hear of their daughter's gruesome passing, but she had five sisters, three brothers, and aunts, uncles and cousins back north. William began drifting off as he listened, and before he knew it, he was dead asleep, exhausted from everything that had happened that night.

But all the while, his hand stayed atop the pile of blankets Libby lay beneath, afraid if he weren't touching her, she'd disappear again.

Sawyer Cabin
Logan, West Virginia, 1878

"Can't get her ta tell me nothin'. She don't wanna talk about it; don't even wanna talk! An'… alls I can do is hold her an' let her cry. Ain't no words 'a comfort that'll bring her mama back." Chet was flustered, trying to obtain Libby's side of the story so he could report it to Wall and the sheriff. But he'd had no luck, met only by tears in response to his questions, which pained him on a level he could not tolerate. It had been physically painful almost to have her so upset and not be able to soothe her in anyway. For the first time in his life, even when he'd been shot, he felt weak. Suddenly, he was left alone with a young girl he truthfully wasn't sure how to handle without his wife.

The day after Libby had been found had been chaotic, everyone seeming in a panic around her, afraid to initiate her tears, though it wasn't the presence of those she loved that caused the pain. Just the memories. She couldn't forget them.

And she didn't want to talk about them, at least not to her father. She couldn't bear to tell him about what had happened, what she'd heard as she fled, what she knew her mother's fate had been. She couldn't cause him that pain, a pain she'd rather be submitted to alone than burden him with.

"Maybe send one of the boys ta her. Might be more apt ta tell them," Levicy suggested, not really referring to Johnse or Robert E, but William. Anderson couldn't argue that point, because it had been apparent to everyone that Libby, at least before leaving for Boston, had always harbored feelings for William. If anyone could get her to talk, it was likely him.

"It's true she's always favored yer Will," Savage Chet agreed. He'd never been so overwhelmed in his life, not even at war. No, at least in a war, you were anticipating death; it was all around you. Lucy being killed had completely blindsided him though.

Earlier in the morning, he'd gone to the coroner, accompanied by Anse, to identify his wife's body and make arrangements, on no sleep save for the few moments he'd drifted off in his chair by the fire, when he'd been watching as his daughter tossed and turned, waking William a couple of times, the boy jolting as though he'd been scared, eyes shooting open and looking at Libby before he'd sigh and fall right back asleep, though she never seemed to wake herself. She just whimpered in her slumber instead, muttered words Chet couldn't comprehend and threw her head back and forth.

He didn't know what he was going to do with her.

Now, Chet was left to raise his daughter on his own, a time in her life when she would need a mother the most, as she came into womanhood. Besides, he knew nothing of raising a girl. A boy, he'd likely be able to handle, but females needed so much more emotional support than he thought he would be able to offer her. He was by no means a sensitive man, and he had already had his fill of a crying girl he couldn't figure out how to comfort and had begun numbing himself with whiskey on the way back from confirming the identity of Lucy. He loved his daughter with all his heart, and was great when she wanted to play or if she needed a discipline, and he knew she would marry well, being such a beauty, but Lucy had taken charge when it came to developing who Libby was, which is why she was a bit more delicate than the average woman who'd grown up in these hills. Then again, Lucy was a Yank, and a city girl at that, so it wasn't surprising. It was something Chet had found endearing, a woman who needed someone like him to protect and provide for her. What was he supposed to tell his daughter when she got her flow, if she already hadn't? He didn't even know! He didn't want to know!

The thing he feared he could not handle were all things a mother should worry about, not a father. A father should worry about working hard, and feeding his family, defending his honor, and showing his boys how to become men.

Chet stopped his mind, no longer able to see his beautiful wife's face in his head, instead plagued by the image of her cold, lifeless body, face beaten and strangulation bruises clear across her neck. She had died being choked, the coroner had said, burns from the rope the raiders had used visible around her swan-like neck. And though he hadn't seen how cut up her body had been because of the sheet covering it, he could see the stains from her blood marking the white cloth, the sight making his stomach churn. It made him want to drink until he'd forgotten she was even dead, never mind washing away how she looked absent of life.

Anse puffed on his pipe, watching his friend's face contort as he dealt with the inner turmoil that had resulted form this ordeal. Chester was a man Anse had known his whole life, he'd known his wife as long as she'd been married and living in Logan, and Libby, since she'd been born. To see one missing and the two remaining so broken and destroyed was difficult. Anderson Hatfield knew he would be of help to them if they needed anything, but Chet was likely too proud to ever ask.

"Now Chet, you know Vicey'll take care 'a Libby. Don'tchyou worry about that none." Savage Chet gulped down another mouthful of whiskey and wheezed a cough once he'd swallowed it down. "An' you know my boys is always lookin' out for her."

"Course. You jus' bring her ta me on yer way ta work in the mornin's. Ya know I love her like my own," Levicy assured Chet as she readied some sandwiches in Chet's kitchen. The woman couldn't help but tear up when she passed the collection of hand painted fine china her friend had always prided, on display. It was wrong, she knew, but part of her wanted to shut it away somewhere they couldn't see it for the time being, until everyone had eased their pain. "Gotta give her time ta get right again. Both of ya gotta get right again." Levicy's hands stopped moving and she seemed to stare off, wondering how the world could be so cruel, to rip a mother away form her young child, before she shook her head lightly and returned to her meal preparation.

Chet already knew Anse would support him any way he could. They were like family all their lives. The fact of the matter was that he couldn't raise a girl on his own, not proper anyway, and work all the long hours he did at the timber yard. He not only worked out in the yard harvesting lumber, but he also helped with the books, so he found himself there nearly as often as Anse himself. "I'll find a way ta thank you someday, brother," Chet slurred slightly, both from sorrow and the liquor.

The almost first peaceful silence in the last day they had experienced washed over them before the door to Chet's home opened, the two eldest Hatfield boys entering unannounced, as they'd been outside helping with the animals that couldn't be ignored. On this sad day, Anse had shut down his timber operation out of respect for the late Lucy Sawyer, who had been a favorite of many Hatfield kin, both lovely to look at and maybe even overly sociable, a smile nearly always on her face and her laugh in the air. Today was a day for grieving, and on Sunday, they would bury Lucy.

"Speak 'a the devils," Anse teased his sons as they pulled their boots and hats off to come warm up by the fire, both unbuttoning their jackets as they approached. Libby had stayed locked away in her room, crying the whole cart ride to the Sawyer, Ellison, who had brought her and the Hatfield boys, had said. They had let Libby sleep long in the morning, so Chet and Anse had gone to see Lucy alone, and had Levicy bring the children once Libby had woken, Ellison having offered to take the younger ones to entertain Cotton earlier before Elizabeth had been conscious. .

This had been the first time Will had been conscious enough since last night to address Libby's father, or even his own. Hands deep in his coat pockets and hat abandoned, he walked up to Chet, who eyed him as though he were confused.

"Uncle Chet, sir, I ain't meant ta fall asleep with Libby. I just… I was just glad she was okay, is all. It won't never happen again, I'm sorry." Levicy had warned her son he might want to apologize in advance for his boldness by lying on a bed with a girl like that before his father called him out for it, because Anse would likely let it slide if Chet did, due to the circumstances. And Will was always very respectful of his father, and the rest of his elders at that.

"Yer a good boy Will. An' ya found my girl. Yer a goddamned hero, son. Ain't need no apology," Chet assured him, Will relishing in the compliment from one of the men he respected most. He was relieved, eyeing his own father then to see if he was forgiven, and apparently he was, Anse just nodding his head once and continuing to smoke.

A bit hesitantly, Will looked back to Savage Chet and pulled has hands from his jacket pockets. "I found this. Right near the foxhole Libby was hidin' in. Guessin' she must've dropped it. I think it was yer wife's." Offering the ring out to Chet, he dropped it into the palm of the man he'd called uncle his whole life.

Almost in a trance, Chet took the piece of jewelry and fingered it for a minute, holding it up to the firelight and letting it gleam in the dark house, remembering the day he'd put it on his bride's finger. She had been so beautiful, both of then young and happy.

He couldn't believe she was gone.

"Good boy," Chet nodded to him in thanks before dropping a heavy hand of admiration onto William's shoulder. He'd had no sons of his own, but if he did have one, he'd hope he'd be like Anse's second boy. Johnse was fine too, but much more of a fool. William had a head on his shoulders, and Chet couldn't lie and say he hadn't noticed the kid was almost a dead shot, more promise than Anse or himself ever showed at that age.

"It's gonna go ta Libby one day anyhow. You oughtta just keep it till yer marryin' age." Will looked horrified at older brother, wondering what would possess him to make a joke at a time like this. He was even more horrified when his father seemed to chuckle along with Johnse, disbelieving that his father would let Johns make such silly accusations when everyone was supposed to be mourning. But a ghost of a smile seemed to appear on Chet's own mouth, surely the first once since he'd come knocking on their door last night. And so William pushed his protest aside, just lightly elbowing his brother's ribs and giving him a sharp look instead or whopping him, ears turning pink with embarrassment.

"Welp, it'll be here waitin' on ya son," Chet joined in, to everyone's surprise, needing any sort of amusement to keep him out of the hole he wanted to bury himself in. Anse thought it was a good idea, making the man laugh, even just a little, a bit worried his friend was going to drink himself stupid.

"How's Libby anyways?" Will asked, though he was sure she was locked away in her room, crying still. She'd disappeared right in there the minute she'd arrived and not come out since. Johnse and Will had been tasked with taking care of Chet's hogs, cows, chickens and horses, because the man clearly was in no state to do it himself.

"I do believe you've just volunteered to go on in there an' find out." Will looked a bit startled at his father's command, but didn't protest. "An' William, try an' find out what happened. We ain't gonna catch the bastards that done this 'less someone can get it outta Libby." Will was to completely unsure of how to breech that topic without her wailing. Libby was prone to crying over little things. Something this big was bound to leave them all flooded in her tears.

"Okay… but whadda I say?" He really didn't want to upset her, and he saw no way of finding out what had happened exactly without doing so. He hated how she'd been crying last night, not because she was being whiney or spoilt, but because she was truly devastated. It was a heart wrenching sight and sound, and Will wasn't even sure he wanted to go in there and see her in the first place. How did you tell someone it would be okay when her mother had just been slaughtered on the road for some petty theft?

The look Savage Chet gave him though, a look of pleading almost, gave Will the boost of determination he needed to go and see Libby. Johnse, Anse and Chet all stared at him expectantly before he reluctantly made his way up the steps to her bedroom door.

He took a breath of confidence before he knocked shortly, met with no reply, as he'd somewhat expected. So he cracked the door open slowly, seeing her curled up against the headboard of her bed in her house dress, knees hugged to her chest and hair covering any part of her face that might have been exposed, head buried in her arms. Though she made no sound, he could see her body quivering with her sobs.

"Hey Libby," Will had said in greeting, so she knew he was there. He walked into the room slowly before shutting the door behind him. He hadn't been in her room in quite some time, not since they were really little. It was different than he remembered, more grown up. There were a couple of perfect looking dolls around, but other than that, it was mostly books, her hope chest, a hairbrush, two pretty perfume bottles half emptied, and other girly things he couldn't even identify. The room distinctly smelled feminine too, of lavender and spring mornings. Will liked it, he decided, especially since there was some scent that was distinctly Libby mixed in there. The boy was broken from his observations when she spoke though, taking him by surprise. He'd imagined having to pry

"It ain't right. Hearin' you all laughin' out there. How can anyone be laughin' right now?" she muttered into her arms, but after she'd spoken, she turned her head to look at him, tears stains streaming down from her reddened eyes. He hadn't seen her so unkempt in his life, well, except for maybe last night when he'd found her.

"Don't be like that Libby. Yer Pa's torn up enough, y'know. If he don't laugh, might drink himself ta death out there." The look on Libby's face made Will realize that was absolutely not the right thing to say, and he quickly went over to her before wrapping her in his arms. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. Talking about her father dying likely wasn't appropriate at the current time, even though Will hadn't really meant it that way.

He could tell his words had deeply hurt her because of how sensitive she was at the moment, so he comforted her by rubbing a circle on her back, much like he recalled his mother doing when he'd been sick. "I didn't mean it, y'know," he reassured her, feeling her swell up and begin sobbing against him.

Will thought hard about what to say next. She was already so upset, he didn't want to make it worse; he could feel the wet spot on his shirt from her tears. It was the first time he'd ever had to deal with something like this in his life. And it wasn't even his mama who'd been murdered. He couldn't even imagine how Libby felt, so how was he supposed to talk with her about it?

But before he could think of a way to break the ice and approach the topic of what had actually happened last night, she broke the silence first. Pulling back from him slowly, she wiped her eyes and sniffled, Will's arms dropping to his sides, watching her carefully. "I keep hopin' I'm gonn wake up, an' nona it will've happened."

Silence surrounded them, save for the quivering breaths she took. And within that moment, Will found his courage, seeing this as good a time as any. "What did happen, Libby?" he finally just flat out asked.

He waited for her to start whimpering and crying again. He waited for her to curse him for asking, and yell at him to get away from her. But she didn't.

As if he'd broken through to her somehow, her eyes suddenly met his. They were sad, troubled and dark, much like her father's. Their colors matched now. Chet's had been like that as long as Will could remember, likely from the war. But Libby's, they had always been full of life and brighter than Chet's, though they were close in coloring. But the life in her eyes came from her mother's own blue orbs, a smile hidden inside them always and a sparkle in the corner. But the brightness seemed to have washed out with Lucy's passing, and Will thought if he saw just Libby's eyes right now, he wouldn't even recognize her.

Somehow, William's direct question had worked. It mattered none how many times she'd been asked the same thing by the others. Because right now, she decided to speak, a story she would never repeat again. And Will hung onto her every word.

Her tears ran rapidly down her face, though she was able to talk without sobbing for the most part. It had gotten to the point where it was just natural, the liquid falling down her face, and Will didn't know how to stop it, but he really wished he could, because he hated to see her so heartbroken.

"I… I… we was just ridin' along." It all seemed so hectic when it had happened, this had been the first time she'd truly gone over the order of events in her mind like this. Before, all she could think about was what had happened when she'd gotten away, what she'd heard happening, and how thankful she'd been to hear Will calling out to her when she thought she was done for. "All've a sudden, we turned fast an' went off trail. It was all bumpy. I fell off my seat." It was like she'd gotten a chill, the way she trembled, and William felt the same tremor run through his own body as he listened intently. "An' then, everythin' stopped. Horses quit pullin'. An'… an' there was gunfire. They killed the driver."

Swallowing hard, Libby stretched her legs out to the floor sitting beside William in the same fashion he sat on her bed. "There was three of 'em, I think, but I ain't never really caught sight of 'em. They jus'… I can't stop hearin' their voices. The escorts went out and they was arguin'. Then they shot them too. Mama pulled the lock on the door, but they knew we was in there, an' they kept tryin' ta get in. Mama gave me her ring, opened the bottom hatch, an' said ta run an' hide till she found me, an' if she didn't ta run an' find my Pap. I didn't wanna go, an' I started cryin'… but she said I hadta. Told me ta hold onta her ring, 'cause no bandits was gonna get that from her." She sighed deeply, and Will wanted to tell her he'd found the ring, and that she didn't have to worry about that small detail anymore at least, but he was afraid if he interrupted her, she'd stop telling him. And he knew along with his father and Uncle Chet, that Libby's testimony was the best chance they had at piecing the puzzle of who'd murdered her mother together.

"I didn't run straight away. I hid near some rocks, an' I waited fer her. Thought she'd run behind me. But they'd got in by then. I could hear her screamin', an' them laughin'. I know what it sounds like when skin breaks open from a man's fist. I tried ta run but I couldn't move, not till I heard clothes rippin' an'—"

"Stop." Will couldn't listen to it anymore. That was enough detail to last him the rest of his life. He was sick with disgust, pressing his hand against his lean stomach trying to soothe the discomfort her story had arose.

There were tears welled up in her eyes again when he finally got the courage to look back at her. Never had he thought Libby looked so weak and fragile, even though he'd always held her in that image. Just a little girl who needed protecting all the time. But comparably, she had been a lioness before all of this. "I dunno what happened ta her. Do… do you?"

The question formed a lump in his throat, and for a minute he thought he might thro up, nervously thinking h had to tell her the truth, that her mama had been all cut up, practically gutted like a fish, and choked with a cattle rope. But thinking she was likely more delicate than those few fancy dolls she still had, he lied. "No Lib. I dunno exactly."

The girl heaved a heavy sigh, once again pulling her legs up and hugging her knees. "Can't even find her ring neither. Must've fell off my stupid finger an' I ain't even noticed," she moaned, seemingly ready to fall back into her pit of dispair at the notion she'd lost her mother's most prized possession, the ring that was meant to go to Libby when she married.

"No! I found the ring, Libby!" Will sounded more excited than he probably should have, almost lighting up as the words left his mouth. It may have been the ray of hope she needed to her, he thought. "Seen it sparklin' in the moon, right near that hole you was in. It's how I found ya. Just gave it ta yer Pa."

Will stared, waiting for a reaction, while her eyes seemed to brighten, ever so slightly at this news, and he felt proud he'd been able to do that when she seemed to sad she'd never be happy again. She had an expression of utter disbelief on her face, hawing already made peace with the idea that the ring was gone.

"Will… when I got in that foxhole, I was so cold an' lost, I meant ta fall asleep thinkin' I wasn't gonna wake up again." She took another wavering breath before she looked him dead in eyes and said words that would stay with him for the rest of his life. "Thank you. For savin' my life. I'll never forget what you done for me."

Hatfield Family Plot
Logan, West Virginia, 1878

Libby was drained.

Both physically and emotionally.

Revered Dyke Garret had come to perform a service before Lucy would be buried in the Sawyer family plot, a space beside her reserved for her husband, the gated section located inside the Hatfield cemetery. Chet had thought he would have been the one to be buried first, surely, but here he stood, burying his young wife instead, too young to be in the ground.

It seemed as though groves of people from the community had come to bid her mother farewell, as she had been somewhat of a socialite in Boston and kept true to that even in simpler place, like West Virginia. Libby remembered when she was too young to play off on her own with the Hatfield boys that Lucy would often drag her around community events so she could socialize with practically everyone there, Elizabeth herself being keen on the attention she'd receive from the older women, and the men would often give her a shiny coin or sweet.

But today Libby didn't know how her father could listen to it. Everyone saying how they were sorry for his loss, and how they'd pray for her and her father, or worst of all, offering to provide anything they may need. Nothing would bring her mother back to her. Nothing would make this hole in her heart close, never. She was a broken spirit now, hit with the harsh realities of life, and she saw no recovery in sight.

Now Libby could understand why Will thought all her fictional books were so stupid. She had spent countless hours, hours that could have been spent with her mother, reading about fake places, and people who never existed, and never would.

The Sawyer girl seemed to have turned cold due to her mother's passing, so no one pressured her when she wandered away from the gravesite and over to the carriages. She wanted to go, as quickly as possible, and get away from this place. She didn't want to see that godforsaken box her mother's body lay in for another second. She couldn't bear it.

Libby bent forward, her hands on her knees as she breathed deeply, trying not to break down, here where so many could see. She had been brave most of the duration of the service, only crying harshly once, but she was feeling her walls starting to crumble once more, and she wanted to leave. Her legs were shaking, and though her eyes hurt from crying, the tears seemed to well up again.

"I's real sorry, 'bout yer mama, Libby." Freezing, Libby stood and turned after taking a deep, calming breath, seeing Cotton standing behind her. Though he was Will's age, he was simple minded, and his growth a bit stunted, seeming more like a young child that a boy coming into manhood, much younger than even she. Mostly though, Libby knew he was a sensitive boy, and if he saw her crying, he might be apt to do the same.

All her life, Libby had been appointed the caretaker of Cotton within the group of children, being as she was basically the only girl aside from the oldest Hatfield girl, Nancy, who was much rougher than Libby ever was despite being just about nine, and the two young ones, Mary and Elizabeth. But it had always been fine by Libby because she didn't like roughhousing anyway, so naturally, she had a massive soft spot for the toe-headed boy, having spent a great deal of time with him. His favorite thing to do was listen to her read him books, though he had a bit of a rough time following some of the longer ones.

"Thank you Cotton," she managed, putting on the bravest face she knew how. She didn't want him to see her upset, over all people, save for maybe her father right now. Cotton was the type who would feel her pain, all heart, and she didn't want to torment him.

"Hey Cotton Top, yer pap's lookin' for ya." Libby could've kissed William for intervening, once again her savior as he made his way over to her, a concerned look on his young face.

Cotton quickly threw his arms around Libby's waist and squeezed her, a bit tightly, before he rushed off to find Ellison, always one to mind his father and be obedient. Though Libby wasn't quite sure Will had been entirely truthful in interrupting their interaction.

William stuck around, leaning up against one of the carts she'd been trying to keep out of sight behind and looked at her, dressed in all dark, a sad sight, he thought, as she preferred more colorful things normally, loving to turn heads and be the center of attention. She didn't look like the girl he'd known a few months ago anymore though. There was something so grown about her now, and he didn't know what, but he knew it had something to do with what had happened. She seemed older than he and his brothers even somehow, though she'd seemingly been just a little girl before she'd left.

"You hangin' in there, Libby girl?" he questioned softly. His blue eyes flickered up to hers, seeing the distress still evident, and he briefly wondered if her eyes would ever be bright and shining like they once were, again.

"Barely," she breathed out, the breath shuddering, though she seemed to keep it under control. He saw her hand reach out, trembling with contained emotion as she placed it on the edge of the cart to keep steadied.

"It's gonna be okay, y'know. Even without her. We's all gonna help you an' yer pap. Forever, if we gotta. An' shoot, my mama likes you better 'an she likes any 'a her own kids anyways." It was his attempt at a joke but she didn't laugh, probably because even though it was amusing, there was just nothing to laugh about. He knew from the conversations he'd heard last night that Libby would be spending a lot of time around his mother, learning what her womanly duties would be once she was married, what a women in West Virginia hills was expected to know. Deep down he knew it wouldn't be the same as having her own mother there though.

"I ain't got no mama anymore," she whimpered, still stunned by it in her own mind, though her voice somehow found the words. The worst part was, she wasn't sure it had even truly sunk in yet, still seeming so surreal.

"Lotsa people ain't got one parent 'r the other. Hell, some kids ain't got none! I know it hurts bad, but it'll get easier, y'know that, right? Look at Tom Sawyer! Lives with his auntie! An' what about his friend? Huck? His pap's an' old drunk an' his mama's dead. Least yer daddy's a good, honest, workin' man. Ain't neither one 'a them have livin' mamas." Libby just stared hollowly back at William, and he wondered if his words had served as any comfort to her at all.

"You read it?" That was what she had asked almost in a whisper, maybe amazed by this revelation more so than William's, what he saw as, wise words. It was something she had expected him to forget about, or maybe even purposely ignore. But he knew about the character, so she knew he must've taken the time to read the book she'd given him.

"Yeah, guess I did." He gave her a weak, lopsided smile before he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Got kinda borin' without ya around ta pick on all the time. Been workin' fer my Pa anyhow, so I needed somethin' ta keep me busy at lunch."

"You truly read the whole book?" Elizabeth questioned in disbelief. He'd been stubborn about reading anything that wasn't the newspaper since she'd been helping him read, so to imagine him reading the entire front to back of the novel,

"I did," he admitted. He'd been victimized with some teasing for it too, having his nose stuck in a book at work, mostly from Uncle Jim, Johnse and Skunkhair, but he'd endured it. He'd even practiced his writing some, and had gotten a lot better at both.

"So… did ya like it?" she wondered after another quiet moment, moving over to one of the Hatfield's cart horses and petting the smooth brown coat near it's withers. She wouldn't get on one of the beasts alone, never had, but she did like the soothing effect they seemed to possess. All morning before the funeral, she had locked herself away in the barn and sat in front of her father's riding horse, a young gelding that was a monster in size, but sweet as Levicy's elderberry preserves. The horse would nuzzle her hand and lean into her attention, only to chew on hay quietly while she lost herself in fits of sadness, once in a while, his nose brushing against her head, maybe wondering if she were all right.

"Read the whole thing, din't I?" Will reminded her, coming to stand by her side and imitate her motions, petting the horse near the head.

Will wasn't certain, and he never would be, but he thought he saw the tiniest, twitch of the corner of her mouth, something he wasn't sure he'd ever see again.

Sawyer Cabin
Logan, West Virginia, 1878

"Hey Libby girl, how ya feelin'?" It had become the question Johnse Hatfield asked Libby every time he saw her now, since the horrific incident that had taken the life of her mother near a month ago. Will elbowed his brother in the ribs, knowing that it bothered her when people brought attention to the fact she'd endured what she had, though weeks had passed and the talk of it had generally died down.

A girl who once reveled in attention now had become much of a recluse, avoiding the outdoors to the point where her hair had darkened a shade, and the roots were not lightening the way they normally did from the sunlight. It was warming up now, but it seemed Libby was content to stay closed in the house, or the Hatfield's, only ever traveling with their kin or her own father, terrified to go anywhere off their combined land on her own, or without someone she trusted.

And going into town was a nightmare. She'd hardly been since the murder of her mother now over a month ago. Though she had still gone to church and sat teary eyed every Sunday morning in the pews, looking down at her hands, not praying, only letting her lip quiver every so often before she sucked it in and took a controlled breath. Levicy had been attending church regularly since also, bringing the young children, though both Joohnse, William and Devil Anse himself had declined the invitation each time. They weren't much for church, not at all. Cotton had told the boys about how sad Libby always looked in church, as he and his father attended. Even Robert E had gone once or twice, just to sit beside her and pull faces to try and get her to crack a smile, always unsuccessfully.

But all in all, maybe aside from his mother, Will had spent the most time with Libby, maybe even more than her Pap. Chet had taken it hard too, but Libby being so… defeated, had made it that much harder on him. The man drowned himself in work and liquor at the tavern with Uncle Jim and Skunkhair and drunk Bill Staton. Will, Rob and Johnse had been informed they were expected to help Libby out of her funk by their mother, however, Johnse had better things on his mind, like girls, and Rob gave up quickly. So Will was often left to do all her cheering up on his own. Which was fine by him, as Johnse tended to mess it up anyway. Today would likely be no different.

Will could tell somehow that all the adults around him depended on him to handle Libby, because he was so good at it, he and Cotton Top too, but Cotton was just so sweet, Libby couldn't bring herself to burden him with her continuous sadness. Will wasn't so lucky, the girl always painfully honest about what was bothering her to him, whether it be nightmares, or just missing her mother an extra lot that day; it varied.

She cried every day. The boys knew because each afternoon, excluding Sundays, Chet would come to the Hatfield home with Anse and them after work was finished, and they'd all eat the meal Libby and Levicy had been cooking. Then Chet brought her home, right around the time her eyes would start tearing up and everyone else would grow quiet. Even Levicy had been taking it easy on her, only really making her work in the kitchen, hang laundry, and help with the young children. She hadn't even tried to get her out to the chickens and other animals yet, chores she knew Libby had little to no experience doing, and would likely not be thrilled about.

And until today, the boys had avoided asking her to indulge in their fantasies about the James-Younger Gang and the Lincoln County Regulators with them, like they'd used to. After they'd shown her even girls could be outlaws, it had quickly become her favorite game to play, as she was undoubtedly included. But her mother's murder had turned her into a different person, much more quiet and dismal now, even much older seeming than the two boys who were both her senior, and she made Robert E seem like a toddler, considering both he and Libby were the same age. Not to mention they had gotten about nowhere in figuring out who the murderous bastards were, making them some unknown bandits, which is why they had been worried she would react, well, the way she inevitably did.

But today being a Sunday, and Libby being home from church by now, they decided it was worth a shot. Maybe she'd come around again if they restored the normality of the friendship they'd had.

As per usual, Libby responded with a shrug to Johnse's question, eyes cast downward at her folded hands. Johnse gave his brother a sideways glance, before he just went for it. "Well, got somethin' I think'll cheer ya up!" Slapping the folded paper onto the table, Libby actually looked at it, a pondering expression crossing her face. "Will don't read near as good as you," Johnse encouraged, also being truthful, though his younger brother punched him in the shoulder anyway

The girl's eyes scanned the headline, one she admits, normally would have intrigued and excited her. Somehow they'd all seemed like heroes. But not now, not anymore.

"What're ya stupid Johnse?" They'd never heard her be quite so harsh towards them for no reason before. Her feet stomped on the floor as she quickly stood from the chair she'd been sunken into and swatted the newspaper onto the floor, pages fluttering in different directions. "I don't wanna know 'bout them no good bandits, understand me? I don't wanna hear 'bout them, I don't wanna pretend like we're gonna grow up an' be like 'em, an' I certainly don't wanna read 'bout 'em an' the people whose lives they destroy!"

Johnse was much more brash and emotion-driven than his younger brother, making him seem as though he were actually the junior of the two. And hell if he hadn't gone out of his way to be especially nice to Libby since her mom had died. "Just cause yer mama's dead Libby, don' mean yer gonna talk ta me like that! I can still whoop ya!"

"Cut it out Johnse! Go on an' get outta here," Will intervened quickly, realizing Libby was not doing well at all today, and she was lashing out at his brother because of it. And Johnse wasn't having it anymore.

Somehow, Will had found the patience to deal with it. He didn't know where it had come from, but he guessed it had to do with the fact he'd been the one to see her first. Hell, it had practically traumatized him too, seeing her that scared.

Will had grown protective of her, slugging Jefferson McCoy just last week when he'd been running his mouth about Libby, calling her a nasty name based on her recent mood change, despite the fact the McCoy was quite a few years his senior. Though it wasn't necessarily an untrue statement, Will wouldn't tolerate anyone saying it about her, and besides, she was never rotten to him. In fact, he was one of the only people who seemed to be able to crack a smile out of her these days. And watching him shoot seemed to be one of the only things she kind of enjoyed doing. So they'd spent a lot of time together. Her favorite thing was to sit out in the woods with him and tell him what to shoot. Even the things she'd set him up for failure with seemed to go down when he pulled the trigger though. The kid never missed.

Following Johnse and simultaneously leaving Libby to cool off for a minute before he went in and worked his, what must have been, Hatfield charm on her, Will sighed exasperatedly.

"Ya jus' need ta back offa her when she gets like that, get it?" Will told Johnse in a warning tone. He didn't want to have to beat up his own brother, but he might if he made the wrong move and sent Libby into tears.

"How much longer we all gotta be walkin' on eggshells 'round her? Ain't like I was even askin' fer it!" Johnse was well aware that he teased her to the brink of frustration often, but he'd been sensitive about her mourning her mother still. But it was time to suck it up, in his opinion. Life went on, and sulking wasn't about to bring her mama back to her.

"Ya don't get it Johns." Will's eyes were serious now, much different from the playful glint that was almost always there. They looked much like they had the night he'd rode up to his brother with a shivering Libby on the front of his horse. "Ya didn' see her. Ya didn' see her face. She was so… scared. Looked at me like I saved her life." Sometimes, the look of terror on her face, the horror in her eyes haunted his sleep. Will would shoot up in bed, and it was always the last thing he remembered seeing, the way the moon had been reflecting in the glossy orbs of the girl he'd known his whole life.

And maybe that was how he felt. Like he'd saved her life. And like he ought to keep protecting her. After all, she only had her father. Lord knows that man hadn't even had his own minute to grieve since he'd spent most of his time worrying about Libby's state of being instead and trying to figure out how to handle her over a bottle of whiskey.

"Well, you can go on in there an' coddle her, but I ain't gonna be yelled at fer nothin'. I'm goin' home!" Stomping off to his horse, Johnse pulled himself up onto his saddle and rode off in the direction of the Hatfield home.

"Well, shit!" Will cursed before he went back inside Libby's house, and found her sobbing as she picked up her mess of newspaper pages, feeling silly for lashing out the way she had, but she'd been unable to control her emotions for a while now. Johnse might've expected it had he not been avoiding her mostly, uncomfortable by her open displays of sadness. The eldest Hatfield boy just didn't handle serious situations well at all.

Even Libby was tired of herself, every single day passing and unable to avoid reminders of how her mother had been ripped away from her by people with no motive other than to rob the small amount of money they'd had with them.

Will's voice calling out her name had seemed like an illusion that night, a sound too sweet to be real. But he had been, and maybe that's why, at the age of twelve, Libby was already sure she loved the boy not much older than her. Though she'd spent most of her life waiting for them to invite her to play, her attachment to the middle Hatfield boy had become almost obsessive since he'd come to her rescue and found her in the deep, dark unknown.

The blonde boy walked over to her as she focused on not crying too heavily in front of him, his hands reaching for the papers she'd been attempting to clean up, embarrassed by her own childish actions.

"We were hopin' it'd cheer ya up Lib, is all. He didn't mean nothin' by it," William defended his older brother. He usually did the opposite, trying to get his own kin in trouble with his mama and pap as opposed to covering for him, but in this case, it was more for Libby's sake. Johnse was actually trying to be nice for once, and she'd gone and blown up at him.

"I know… an'… I'm sorry fer actin' like a miserable brat all the time. I just… I want my mama," she sobbed, Will feeling compelled to wrap her in a comforting hug. He already stood a good half-foot taller than her, having hit a growth spurt rivaling his older brother's. Both boys were all limbs, Robert E sure to follow in their footsteps and stand tall and lean muscled, just like Devil Anse.

"C'mon Lib s'okay. Johns'll git over it." This is usually how it went; Will would feel bad for trying to make her see reason because he couldn't forget the disturbing look in her eyes when he'd found her. He never wanted her to feel upset again because of it. No one understood like he did. "Ya got yer pap still Lib, he loves ya. An' mine. An' my mama too. She'll teach ya everythin' ya need ta know. She loves ya like her own."

Trying to regain control of her sobs, Libby pulled away from Will, straightening her appearance by smoothing her hair and wiping her tears.

"Yer gonna be okay Lib, don'tchya worry." Will was caught in her haunted gaze, tear filled and glossy.

"I… lied ta ya Will." The Hatfield boy looked confused and unsure, wondering what she was speaking of. She was not one to lie. In fact, she'd had quite a reputation as being a tattletale to he and his brothers.

"Whatdya mean? 'Bout what?"

I saw 'em kill her Will. I stayed back an' hid, an' I watched 'em do it. Choked her an' gutted her like a fish!" Frozen as she collapsed into him once again, weeping uncontrollably as she revealed her secret, what had been plaguing her this whole time, Will swallowed hard. At no point had he heard that part of the story, and he doubted anyone else had either.

Instinctively, he wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close into his chest until she calmed before he pulled her back, holding her by the shoulders and keeping her eyes. "Libby… did ya tell yer pap?" Confirming his suspicions, she shook her head and attempted to control herself. The fourteen-year-old young man was at a loss. "Ya gotta tell someone Lib! Maybe they can find 'em" Either the sheriff, or Anse's Wildcats were bound to track them down if she could give them a description. Petty thieves like that would definitely have hit more than once, and to be murdering women like that, Will just couldn't understand it.

"Their faces was covered. I didn't see 'em. Not really. I just saw what they done. An' their voices… I won't never forget them." Her voice quivered as she spoke. "I don't want no one else ta know Will. Just you. Please?"

He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to deny her anything ever again. Part of him still felt she should tell her father and see what he thinks, but if she hadn't seen the bandits faces, then it did them no good anyway. And he got why she wouldn't want everyone in the county talking more than they already were. "Okay, I won't tell no one."

Hatfield Barn
Logan, West Virginia, 1878

It wasn't only Johnse who had decided Libby had been babied enough. Levicy too had begun going a bit harder on her. William had seen her three times out in the barn now, trying her best to keep away from the pig slop and instead busying herself with the chickens and horses mostly, though his mother had been preparing her to milk one of the goats when he'd left to go to work in the morning. He'd almost wished he could stay to watch it, something he never thought he'd be seeing, that was for sure.

He found it a hard scene to imagine, the girl he'd known his whole life, sopping wet with the spring storm they'd been hit with, working in the barn with his mother and younger siblings. But Will rode a little faster on his way home from work, wanting to escape the chilly rain himself and also hoping to catch a glimpse of the unthinkable.

Libby wasn't so amused by her new chores. She would much rather be inside, taking care of the babies and preparing food for supper. Her dress was filthy, covered in mud and muck and her skirts heavy with wet. Levicy had taken the milk and eggs inside, leaving Libby to clean the horse's stalls, though it was a chore she wasn't fond of, she did like the company of the large animals. There was something soothing about them, and as long as she didn't have to mess around with the pigs, she wasn't going to complain.

Wandering into the barn, Libby pulled her father's coat from the war tighter around her body, loving how it smelled of him, crisp autumn leaves, smoke and pine from the timber yard. It was a smell she'd smelled on Will's clothes too, only he smelled more like fresh summer grass and clear spring water than the leaves of fall like her daddy did.

Now Libby had always liked the horses: but she'd always been scared of them too, far too scared to ever ride one on her own. Her father had only three at the moment, their rogue colt having been sold last fall on Election Day.

The Hatfields had a full barn normally, though Johnse, Anse and William had all taken their horses out to work, their stalls now sitting empty. Three were outside, all cart horses, and two of the others were still sitting inside their stalls, one with a sore leg being treated daily, and the other fat and in foal.

Sighing, Libby picked up a pitchfork, not enthused by her duty to these animals right now, thinking it was a job better suited for Robert E, but she wouldn't dare argue with Levicy. She wasn't very quick with the task, that ws for certain, but once she was done, she picked up a brush anyway and made her way int the stall with the in-foal mare, happily chewing on her hay, raising her big dark eyes to the girl before snoring acceptingly and returning to her food.

"Here girl, shh," Libby cooed at the horse as she stepped up to her and hesitantly pressed the brush to her neck before sweeping it down her fur and stirring a cloud of thin dust from her bedding.

Good, girl," she praised, a bit nervous, alone in the stall, but she continued the process of grooming the horse, and she began to get lost in her task, mind calm for once, something she found rare these recent weeks.

But the barn door swung open, giving her a fright that made her jump and spin around, the mare whinnying, not as affected, though she did look to Libby as though she were annoyed she had stopped grooming her.

William was the culprit, seeming to always be around Libby since she'd told him the truth behind her distant behavior, excluding when he was at work, trying to get his horse in from the rain quickly before he was anymore wet than he already was. It had been a light sprinkle most of the day, but had started to become heavier as Will rode into sight of his family's stable.

"Hey Lib. Workin' hard?" He was teasing, she could tell as he began to untack his horse. Pulling his wet jacket off first as he moved the reins between both hands and shook his arms free of his soaked sleeves.

"Yer real funny William," she snipped at him as she started to pick through her last stall.

He was surprised when he looked up, to find her pulling a brush through a horse's mane, actually in the stall. "Gettin' brave, huh?" he questioned her as he led his own horse into the stable.

"Scared me half ta death, bargin' in like that. Gonna get me kicked," she scolded Will as he locked the door to his horse's stall and then approached the mare's, where Libby had returned to her task of combing out the tangled in the horse's wiry hair.

Will watched her through his wet strands of hair, wondering if she would ever let go of her inhibitions. She was so timid, even more so now it seemed. Sure, he liked her fine the way she was, but he'd always felt she missed out on things just because she was such a scared little thing. Somehow now though, it seemed urgent to him she find some kind of hobby. She needed joy back in her life. "When you gonna get on one a them Lib?"

"Not never," she quickly replied, truly believing it was a fear she would never overcome. She'd seen people be thrown and kicked and struck by horses before, and it had been enough to deter her. It was a miracle she would even get this close to one in the first place.

"Aw, c'mon. You been out here with 'em a lot lately. Ain't you even wanna learn ta ride?" He watched as she paused in her motions a minute, as though she truly was considering the option.

Most her age, even girls, knew how to ride. The three eldest Hatfield boys had all been riding since they could walk, and were all seasoned professionals on horseback now. And it wasn't something she could say she'd ever given much consideration towards, especially being the age she was. It seemed something you should learn in your youth, when mortality wasn't such a big deal, but the risk of injury or death that came with riding such a large animal worried her more than ever now. "I dunno."

"I can teach ya. Ain't hard. Ya just gotta stop bein' so damn scared. Pistol right here'd take 'care 'a ya. It'd be like babysittin' fer him." Pistol was Will's own horse, a very trustworthy steed that didn't even flinch whenever he shotgun let out a loud crack. He wasn't the biggest, but he had a shining bay coat with a white stripe down the center of his face, and a little snip on his nose.

As though confirming Will's proposal, Pistol let out a snort of acceptance before he buried his head in a pile of hay again. "See?" the blonde boy emphasized, gesturing to his horse. "Put the brush down an' git over here."

"You want me ta get on right now?" Libby asked incredulously, stepping away from the mare and out of the stall, abandoning the brush and putting her hands on her hips as she looked at her friend disbelievingly.

"Sure, why not?" he replied, thinking if she just jumped on his back in the stall and saw how nice he would be, she'd get over her apprehensions about riding. It was damn pathetic in his eyes, not knowing how to ride at her age, girl or not.

"I'm s'posed ta help yer mama." It wasn't even the best reason she had for not submitting herself to William's riding lesson.

"Nancy can help her. I'm gonna go tell her," Will persistently assured her though, kind of surprised he'd gotten her to even humor the idea.

"No! I can't today. It's rainin'!" Libby continued to protest. She couldn't fathom what she'd been thinking, almost letting Will make her think it would be a good idea for her of all people to ride a big, heavy animal.

"Aw, c'mon Libby! You jus' gonna be scared 'a everythin' the resta yer life? That ain't no life." He stopped for a second, choosing his words very carefully. "Yer mama wouldn't want ya bein' like ya been Libby."

There. It was out in the open. He had finally said it. Which meant he was likely done babying her too.

It was the silence that echoed in his ears though as opposed to the sound of her response. Her yelling. Her crying. There was just nothing. Just a deafening silence as she looked down at the ground.

Will became nervous. He wondered if he'd overstepped the boundaries of their friendship with his words. He just wanted her to be normal again though, back to the Libby he always knew. It seemed like she never had fun anymore, never truly smiled. Hell, Will'd give his left eye for everything to be back to normal again, for them to be able to play and laugh like they'd used to.

"You was the only one who had the decency not ta point it out," Libby finally breathed. Her words made his heart sink, the hurt in her voice apparent.

"I just… I miss ya Lib. I dunno what else ta say." William scratched the back of his head, his hair damp and dripping onto the collar of his shirt before his hands clapped against his pants as he exasperatedly let them drop to the sides of his thighs.

"I'm… I'm right here." Her voice wavered as she spoke. "I ain't ever gonna be the same again though. I ain't never gonna… unsee what I seen Will. No one can never understand that but me. It's my burden ta carry, alone, the resta my life." He felt as though he were listening to an adult, one much wiser and more experienced in life than he as the boy watched her stand right before him. Her glassy eyes stared into his, cold and dark like the damp bark of the trees outside. "One day ya might understand. But I sure hope you don't." She wouldn't wish this kind of inner torture on her worst enemy.

William stood silently, unsure of how to respond. Words of comfort seemed to be running low. He could only tell her she'd be all right so many times before it began to become meaningless. All he could do was show her. Life would go on. She could still enjoy it. And some day, she wouldn't think about her mother's horrible death so much. But in all honestly, he wasn't even sure that was true himself.

"C'mon," he stated simply instead, his gaze unwavering from hr own. "Yer gonna sit on the damn horse. I'm not lettin' ya just curl up an' die Lib." Then he reached out and snatched her hand, before tugging her towards the stall of his faithful steed.

"He ain't even tacked!" she hurridly protected as her steps dragged behind William's long and forceful strides.

"So what? He's an old man. Ain't gonna buck ya. We don't even haveta leave the stall." He tried to make it seem better as he pulled the door open, knowing if he could just get her to sit on the damn animal, he'd hook her. "Today anyways."

"I… I don't think it's a good idea." It had been almost her lifetime since she'd sat atop a horse, and she'd not been in a rush to change that. But Will looked sternly at her, his eyes saying if she didn't do it, she would never hear the end of it from him. And she never liked to look like a coward in front of the Hatfield boys, always attempting to put her bravest face on. Sadly, it wasn't just the face that would save her this time.

"I ain't takin' no fer an answer Lib. Yer gettin' on an' that's that. Now get on over here an' I'll give ya a leg. All's you gotta do is sit. Promise I won't make ya do nothin' else if ya jus' get on today." He was going to take hr mind f the conversation they'd just had. He couldn't take the heaviness of everything surrounding her right now. He needed her to have fun, for everyone's sake. Especially and mostly hers.

Gulping, Libby stepped toward the horse, inside the stall as William held onto his halter. "Jus' hold onto his mae right here."

"Won't it hurt him?" she worried, not sure if pulling on a horse's hair would be the smartest thing to do upon sitting on it's back.

"Nah, he ain't even barely gonna feel it. Here, jus' like this." Will tangled her fingers into the black hair sticking out from his horse's withers, seeing how white knuckled her grip was and feeling the stiffness in her fingers. "Jus' relax Libby," he told her, catching her eyes once more.

"I'm tryin' she whimpered, the shakiness in her voice making it evident she wasn't being very successful.

"On three, jump an' put yer leg over, alright? Try not ta kick his rump with yer foot when ya swing yer leg, got it?" He doubted his horse would move a non-commanded muscle anyway, but it wasn't a habit she should get into. "One, two, three!" he counted, her body lurching a second after he'd said the last number, though Will practically had to throw her on Pistol's back because her jump had been so short.

"Will!" she was nervous as Pistol shifted his weight, moving a little as he adjusted to the girl atop him, not so graceful as she normally was while attempting to sit comfortably and safely.

"Jus' hold on. Yer fine an' so is he. Sit up." Will couldn't hide his satisfied smirk as he watched her, letting go of Pistol's halter once she was upright, and as comfortable looking as she would get. "See, yer fine up there. Look like a natural ta me." It wasn't the first time he'd tried to get her to ride, but it was the only time he'd been successful in doing so.

"Yer a liar." Will just laughed, knowing she had called him out on his fib. She looked terrified up there, but it was all right. Because right now, he'd gotten Elizabeth Sawyer up onto a bareback horse without very much persuasion at all. That would've been an accomplishment even if she hadn't just been through what she had.

But she seemed to become a bit more comfortable as the horse just stood there for her, happily eating hay and swishing his tail. "You'll be ridin' with us on yer own horse in no time," he assured her.

"I ain't so sure about that, William," she reminded him, and he swore she almost laughed at the idea.

"I'll take ya outside tomorrow, when I get home. How 'bout it?" Now was the time to get her to agree. Because once she did, he could always hold it over her head that she'd said she'd ride outside.

"No." It was flat and direct. She wasn't that brave, not yet, and probably not ever.

"C'mon, you'll be fine. E'ry Hatfield woman can ride a horse. An' shoot a gun. An' skin a rabbit. Gotta learn somehow Libby," he told her as if it were obvious.

"I ain't a Hatfield though." Ages back on her father's side she might have a bit of Hatfield blood, but truthfully, she was more McCoy than Hatfield, Sally being her father's second cousin.

Will didn't say anything, though he knew one day she would be. Between him and his brothers, he knew his parents would pressure one, or all of them, to make her an official part of their family. It would be coming, sooner than later. It had only been a running joke until now. But she was growing, and so were they. Johnse would be marrying age soon, and Will would be right behind him. He'd already saved a good amount of money from working to build a house on his father's land for his future wife, and Johnse had already started building a still for himself, and was going to get started on his own home as well, not far off.

"Already told ya, Sawyer's as good as Hatfield." It was all he could say on the matter right now. Though Will knew, he was well aware, it would be him that she wanted. He had always been in her favor, even when she was cross with him and his brothers.

"Can I get down now?" she squeaked as Pistol began walking around his stall, Will wondering if it were to tease her a bit, curious as to whether his horse was actually that smart.

"I s'ppose so. Jus' throw yer leg over an' Slide off." Will returned to Pistol's front, holding him still as she awkwardly dismounted, making an 'oomph' sound as her feet stamped the shavings hard. "See, wasn't so bad, right?"

"I guess not. But he didn't have far ta go, neither," she reasoned as they left Pistol to his hay, Libby patting him on the neck as she followed William out of the stall.

"I'm gonna go shootin' with Cotton an' Robert E after supper, if'n it stops rainin'. Wanna come?" he questioned as he picked up his wet jacket, preparing to follow her inside the house. He couldn't be sure what she was thinking, but her expression seemed less troubled now, and he wanted t hold onto that for as long as he could. The more he did with her, the better she might feel, and maybe one day, she'd almost be back to normal.

"You don't want me hangin' around ya'll when yer doin' stuff like that." Never a stupid girl, she knew the boys tended to ditch her, especially when it came to activities like hunting, shooting and fishing.

"I'm askin' cause I want ya ta come Lib. So just come, okay?" Will's eyes seemed to plead with her, and she couldn't tell him no despite feeling as though his invitation was prompted by pity somehow. "Cotton'll wanna showya how good his aim's gettin'."

Libby bit down on her bottom lip as she thought on the matter for a moment longer before she agreed. She did quite enjoy the sound of gunfire and the excitement of watching how far away Will could hit his mark. He was quite talented when it came to sharp shooting, and could hit things with a bullet before she could even see them in the distance. It was no wonder he'd been able to pick up her mother's ring, even in the dark of night.

"I'll come… but I aint shootin' nothin'. Already talked me inta gettin' on the horse. That's all yer gonna get today, William Hatfield." The smirk that seemed to hide in the corner of her mouth made him smile back at her boyishly before he gestured for her to exit the barn before him, closing the door shut behind her as they rushed into the house, trying to escape the still spitting rain, Libby yelping and Will laughing after her as she nearly slipped in the mud, his hand snatching hers to encourage her to go faster.

Maybe she would be all right. Maybe it all would, so long as he was here to remind her she wasn't the one who was dead.

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