Yay! I'm done with the fourth chapter! Thanks for waiting patiently. Before you go on and read the story (unless you've already skipped over the author's note that took me forever to write XD), I have some things I need to say. I will be skipping some time throughout this story, but nothing dramatic like "And so two months later...blah, blah, blah." It will usually be a few days at the most, unless something drastic happens that calls for it, like say one of them gets really sick. I don't think you'll want to read a few weeks worth of "and so she waited by his bed for him to regain consciousness. And waited. And waited." So, yeah. Also, I was thinking that this story is taking place in 1895, Karakura, Kansas. I think that's it. So without further interruption, read and review this newest chapter of "Western Princess."

"Talking"

'Thinking'

There was the odor of smoke in the air. A young woman peered out the window and gasped. "Oh, no! The stable is on fire!" She heard shouts and cries of outrage. She held her breath as some of the workers began to put out the fire. Hopefully, the horses, their source of money, could be saved. What had sparked the blaze, anyway? The stable hands were so careful not to let the hay catch fire.

Pounding at the front door drew her away from the window. Her feet barely touching the floor, she made her way to the entrance. She held her skirt in her hands in order to move faster. Her heart in her throat, all she could think about was her brother. Where was he? Was he safe? An arm snaked around her waist, and she would have screamed had a hand not been clamped over her mouth.

"Sh. Don't make a sound. Go lock yourself in my office and don't you dare come out until you hear my voice. Understand?"

The girl looked up. A man with dark brown hair stood there. Though he looked handsome in his gray suit, he would have been even more so if he had not had a worried expression. 'Brother.' She nodded.

"Good." He leaned down. "No matter what happens, I love you, Sister." He hugged her tightly, but only for a split second. "Now go!"

She didn't look back for she knew that he would be angry if she did. Managing to push the heavy office door shut, she locked it. And waited.

There was the sound of splintering wood, and men's voices drifted to her. She pressed her ear to the door in order to listen better.

"Where's the money?" A man asked roughly.

"I don't have it yet. You will get it when I sell some more horses. Business has been slow lately, but it should pick up soon." Her brother's voice was calm despite the panic he was feeling. She knew. She'd seen it in his eyes.

The sound of bone breaking made her flinch, and she swallowed hard to keep from calling out.

"Give us the money now!" A different man demanded.

"I told you. I don't-"

"Oh, give us a break. Either give us the money, or we get your sister."

"No! Please, don't take her! You'll get your money, I promise! I just need more time!" Her brother pleaded desperately.

"Your time's up. The boss ain't happy. Now say good-bye." A pistol cocked. It fired.

She wasn't aware she was screaming until the gun stopped.

"Did you hear that? She's here somewhere." Floorboards creaked as the second man began to walk down the hall, opening doors along the way.

The girl shrank back, her hands covering her mouth. Hide. She had to hide. Her eyes darted frantically around until she saw her brother's desk across the room. In desperation, she threw herself under it, hugging her knees to her chest. 'Please, don't let them find me. Please, don't let them find me.' She bit her lips, drawing blood. She was shaking uncontrollably as the intruder started banging on the door. 'Someone, please help me!'

"Let the girl go. The shots will bring his hired help running. Do you want to get caught?"

The man who had pulled the trigger swore loudly. "You got lucky this time, Girl. But next time..." He broke off, leaving what he could have said to her imagination. His laughter echoed as he departed, sending chills down her spine.

Two minutes later, horses galloped away, carrying the murderers to safety. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.

A cry of pain startled her. Her brother. Was he unharmed? Scrambling to her feet, she raced to the door. Her fingers trembled as she turned the key and wrenched the door open. She took one step, and-

"No!"

Her brother was lying on the floor, surrounded by a pool of his own blood. Even more of his blood was spurting out of a small hole in his chest. She stumbled over to him, dropped to her knees, ignoring the sticky liquid staining her skirt. She touched his shoulder.

He turned his gaze to her, pain etched into his face. "I'm...sorry..."

"No, please don't say that. You're going to be fine. Help will be here soon." She clutched his hand.

"Too...late..." He gasped out. "I...lo...love..." He never finished his sentence. He exhaled one last time as his eyes glazed over.

She stared at him in shock. "No." She whispered, not believing he was dead. "No. No. No!" She shrieked. "Stay with me! You can't leave me! Come back, please!" She collapsed against him, sobbing hysterically. He couldn't be gone. There was no way...

Time seemed to stand still. When she sat up, tears still coursing down her cheeks, she had no clue as to how long she had been there. She hiccuped, and lifted a hand to brush the tears away. She froze. Blood caked her hands, her clothing. Her brother's blood...

"Nooooooo!"

Orihime sat up with a start, gasping for air. She looked wildly around, disoriented. Where was she? She had to get away. They couldn't find her.

"Orihime?"

She yelped in fright, covering her ears. "Don't hurt me!"

"...I...wasn't planning on it. Did you hit your head when you fell?" Ichigo studied her, wondering what had come over her. Some kind of nightmare, he supposed, but didn't bother to ask. It wasn't his business, anyway.

"When...I fell?" She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. The events of the past few hours came flooding back. She squeezed her eyes shut to rid her mind of Renji's bloody body. It reminded her of-

"Yeah, you fainted. Again." A trace of aversion was evident in his voice.

"I-I'm sorry to be such a burden." She said so softly he had to strain to hear.

"Yeah, you're a burden all right." He almost snorted in disgust but caught himself in time. "How are you feeling?"

"I-I think I'm okay." She gave a weak smile.

"Good. I have to go check on Renji now. Give a holler if you need anything else."

She watched as he left once more and sighed. Why did she get the feeling that she had done something wrong? Again? Her stomach rumbled. Food. She hadn't had a chance to eat anything. She surveyed the sun from the window. It was almost five o'clock. She panicked. "Oh, no. I have to make dinner for him!" Orihime straightened her clothing, dismayed at how wrinkled they had become. "I must look horrible. But I don't have time to change." Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. She forced them back. She had no time to cry.

Ichigo entered his office to find Ikkaku and Izuru still there. The bald man was sitting on a chair and reading the newspaper, while Izuru was tapping his fingers on the desk. They both glanced over.

"So, how's the wife?" Ikkaku asked casually, smirking.

"Fine." He answered. The door banged shut behind him.

"Uh-oh. I think someone had a lover's quarrel."

"Shut up, Ikkaku." Ichigo snarled. "We aren't lovers."

"Yet." Izuru murmured, then grinned sheepishly when Ichigo glowered at him. "Sorry..."

"Yeah, sure you are." The doctor strode to the bed that Renji was lying on. "So how's the patient?"

"I don't know. You tell me, Doc." Ikkaku leaned back against the wall, balancing his chair on two legs, and stretched. "He was mumbling something, though. I think it was 'Miss Rukia,' but I can't be sure."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'll have to ask him about that when he wakes up." He plunked down on a wooden chair. "You two can head on out now if you want. I'll be watching him."

The two men both stood. "Okay. We'll drop by tomorrow if we can take the time off. The boss ain't happy about Renji being gored and not able to work." Ikkaku spoke.

"Yeah, he was supposed to help me fix my barn's roof." Ichigo sighed. "Oh, well. I'll see if anyone else can help."

"I would be willing to, but I'm going to have double duty now that Renji's injured."

"That's okay. Don't worry about it." The orange-haired man slapped Izuru on the back. After waving them off, he spun on his heel and resumed his position on the chair he had vacated, this time straddling it, his arms on the back. He forced back a yawn. He had to stay awake. Renji could take a turn for the worst, and he had to be alert. But exhaustion settled in, and he began to lose the battle. His eyes drifted shut, and he sank into a well-deserved sleep.

Orihime stood in the kitchen, looking very bewildered. What should she make? More importantly, where did she start? She had ingredients and cooking utensils, but no recipes. She commenced a search of the cupboards, but found no recipes. She slumped against the counter in defeat. Some wife she was. In one day, she had succeeded in fainting twice, and had failed to serve a meal.

She laughed. It would be better if she knew how to cook. "Maybe I can find someone who can teach me. I wonder if Ichigo knows how to cook. He should, since he was living alone. Perhaps he could be my teacher, then." She mulled that thought over, then realized that that prospect didn't sit well with her. As it was, her husband could hardly stand to be in the same room with her. How much worse would it be if he had to tutor her, too? She jolted. How would he respond if he found out she didn't know how to cook?

She tasted something metallic, and touched her lip. "Oops, that hurts. Like Ichigo said, I should stop. I've just been doing it for so long, it's a habit." She spoke aloud, not caring that she was talking only to herself. If she had to stay silent around Ichigo, she might as well carry on a conversation when she was alone. She had to talk sometime.

But right now, she needed to confess her inability to cook. She planted her fists on her hips and glared at the pots and pans. "I knew I should have watched Miya in the kitchen." Miya had been their cook in Virginia, and had offered to show Orihime how to bake. But Sora had refused, saying that his sister was a lady and had no need to learn such trivial things.

"Not so trivial now, is it, Sora?" She muttered bitterly, then gasped. "Oh, Sora, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to sound disrespectful. It's just that there were so many things I wanted to do, but I wasn't allowed because I was a lady. I'm still a lady, Sora, but I'm afraid that I have to do this. I know you wouldn't approve, but I have no other choice..." She felt like she was marching to her death as she made her way to the building in the back. Her steps grew slower as she neared the door. She halted just outside, hand hovering above the knob. She drew in a deep breath, grasped it, and slowly swung the door open.

The sight that met her eyes brought a smile to her lips. Ichigo was perched on a chair, his head on his arms. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was even. He looked so peaceful, she hated to wake him up. Besides, he might get mad at her if she did that. Again, she found herself drawn to his strange colored hair. Before she knew it, she was leaning over him, hesitantly touching the orange locks. She ran a finger through them. He moved slightly, and she yanked her hand back as though burned. When she was certain he was still asleep, she trailed her fingertips down his cheek. His facial muscles twitched into a half-smile. She giggled.

Ichigo knew that he would have to wake up, but didn't want to. It felt so good to sleep. Besides, it was soothing to have someone touch him. Wait. Who was touching him? He groaned and lifted his head up, blinking to clear his vision. As the blurry figure before him turned into Orihime, he ground his teeth together. Terrific. What did she want this time?

He noticed her eyes widen and a look of hurt passed over her features.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. It's just that I had something to say..."

Oh, shoot.

Had he said that last thought out loud? He must have, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He couldn't take it back, even if he wanted to. "What was it?" he asked finally.

She twisted her skirt in her hands, keeping her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor that she had obviously found rather interesting. "I-I don't know how to cook." She admitted.

He couldn't believe his ears. She couldn't cook? "Come again?"

"I can't cook. My cook back home volunteered to show me how, but my brother said I didn't need to learn. I'm sorry that I'm such an inconvenience and a burden and a horrible excuse for a wife, bit I honestly didn't know that I would one day need cooking skills." Orihime bit her lip.

He refrained from admonishing her about that. If she wanted to tear her lip to shreds, then so be it. He had more important problems to deal with. "You can't cook." He reiterated. "What about when you got married? What would you do then?"

She did look at him this time, her face innocent and child-like. "Oh, I wouldn't have needed it if I had married someone from Virginia. My family had a cook, and everyone that I knew had someone to serve meals for them, too."

"Wonderful. I have a spoiled brat for a wife." He grumbled, exhaling loudly. "Is there anything you do know how to do?" He demanded harshly.

A sharp intake of breath was his only reply before she veered from him, hastily flinging the door open and escaping to the safety of the outdoors.

Ichigo stayed where he was, his hand covering his face. What good was a wife if she didn't know how to cook? She was useless, he had to acknowledge. Letting out a frustrated grunt, he rose to his feet and paced the room. Back and forth, back and forth. All the while, he was contemplating what to do now. He supposed that he would have to cook for both of them until she acquired enough skills to be useful in the kitchen. Yuzu would give her lessons, he was sure of it. He would ask her tomorrow morning. Right now, he wanted to eat. His stomach was protesting the lack of food, and he was sure that she was starving by now, too.

The only problem was his patient. Renji couldn't be left alone for great lengths of time. He raked a hand through his hair, kneaded the sore muscles in his neck. Orihime could sit with him. At least she could make herself useful that way. He stalked off to find Orihime.

He was not going to survive this sham of a marriage.

Orihime ate dinner in solitude since Ichigo had taken his plate back to the office so he could observe Renji. She picked at her food, feeling sick. It was true that she didn't have many skills, but she had hoped that he would be understanding. A tear dripped onto her lap. This had to have been the worst decision she had ever made.

After putting the leftovers in the fridge, she went back to his office to get his plate so she could wash it. She could do that much, at least. When she entered, his gaze flicked over to where she stood, then returned to the newspaper in his hand. Without a word, she took his plate and crossed back to the door. She paused. "Good night..." She whispered meekly, as if terrified that he would yell at her for saying anything.

"Hn." He grunted. There was the quiet click of the door, then he was left in silence.

Orihime carefully washed the dishes, scrutinizing each one to make sure that they were all clean. She didn't want Ichigo to get mad if they were still dirty. She hid a yawn behind her hand. She was drained of energy, and right now, the bed sounded really nice. Once in the bedroom, she pulled her nightgown out of the trunk. She wavered slightly, pondering if she should put her clothing in the closet. She decided against it, not wanting to take up his space. Her dresses might get wrinkled, but if it would keep him from becoming angry, she could deal with it.

In the bathroom, she washed her face, relieved that her eyes no longer looked red and puffy from crying. Quickly stripping off her shirt and skirt, she slipped into her nightdress. Gliding back to her trunk, she fished out her brush and, reaching up, undid the bun holding her hair in place. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders. Humming a lullaby Sora had sung to her when she was little, she pulled the brush through her hair, wincing as tangles obstructed its path. When she was done, she replaced the comb and shut the trunk's lid.

She yawned again. She had better get moving unless she wanted to fall asleep on the floor. That wouldn't be very comfortable. She thought of Ichigo, who had no other bed in the office besides the one occupied by Renji. He would evidently be sleeping in the chair. She nibbled on her lip. She didn't need to feel pity for him. It was part of his duty as a doctor. He had to stay close by his patients.

The bed looked so inviting, but she forced herself to tug down the covers before sliding between them. They felt cool to the touch, and when she buried her face in the pillow, she could smell a faint scent.

Ichigo's scent.

Had she not been half-asleep, she would have immediately clambered out of the bed, a blush heating her cheeks. But she was too tired. She felt her eyelids become heavy, and within a minute of lying down, she was asleep.

Ichigo, on the other hand, was not even close to drifting off to sleep. Since he had had a nap earlier, he was wide-awake, able to think about his marriage. He scoffed. No, they couldn't call it a marriage because it wasn't. A marriage was real. Their's was a pretense. Nothing about her appealed to him. Yes, she was beautiful, he grudgingly admitted, but that was it. He didn't feel all warm and fuzzy when she was around. It was quite the opposite, actually. She infuriated him like no one else had ever been able to. Well, besides his father. Isshin had the knack of always getting under Ichigo's skin, and his latest antic proved it.

Every so often, he would check Renji, making sure that he was still breathing and that an infection or fever hadn't set in. That kept his mind busy for a few minutes, but he knew that he was in for a long night with no sleep.

He smirked. If she was terrified of him because of his attitude today, just wait until she saw him tomorrow with hardly any rest.