A/N: Thank you so much for all your kind reviews! I hope this second chapter is to your liking! ;)

Chapter Two

Rachel let herself drift into an uneasy slumber, her chin almost resting against her chest as her head slung forwards. Maybe it was all a nightmare and she'd wake up nice and snug back in her own bed, woken by Laura's calling for breakfast. But Charlie's loud incessant snoring drilled through her peaceful thoughts of home. "Oh, God," she hissed to herself, gritting her teeth and glaring evilly at her captor who was lying with his back to her.

A small clock above the bed chimed two 'o' clock, its quiet rings sounding out through the almost silent room. The bright sun shone through the grey net curtains which had been half slung up the window.

The door was locked, so there was no hope of escape for Rachel as her eyes darted around the room, searching for some kind of getaway. The key to the room was still in Charlie's waistcoat pocket. Even if Rachel could have got the key somehow, her hands were tightly bound, reminding her that there was no chance of escape.

Time ground by slowly as Rachel remained awake, although her mind drifted back and forth from time to time, the warmth of the room somehow persuading a sleep state to take over, but she resisted. The clock still continued to tick above Charlie's head...tick...tock...tick...Just that sound in itself drove Rachel crazy as she kept resisting the urge to sleep; she couldn't, no matter how warm the room was. There was no way she could allow herself to become so vulnerable with such an animal of a man in close proximity.

Suddenly, snoring loudly, Charlie stirred and rolled over, groaning into the pillow. "What time is it?" he demanded, his gloved hand searching over the edge of the bed.

"Erm, half three," Rachel announced timidly, trying hard to keep herself calm.

Charlie sat up quickly, brushing his hands through his thick mop of blonde hair. "How long I bin out?" he asked again, squinting through his tired eyelids and yawning.

"About an hour and a half," Rachel replied.

"Guess I'd better get you some new clothes. You ain't goin' about like that," Charlie insisted, pointing at Rachel's pyjamas as he tossed his legs over the side of the bed and yawned again.

"Leave it! I like my jim jams," Rachel spat back.

"Ya what?" Charlie asked, knotting his eyebrows.

Rachel sighed. "Forget it."

xxx

A short while later, Charlie picked up his cream leather jacket from the wooden chair and tossed it on around his shoulders, finishing his outfit by putting his Stetson back on, covering his dirty hair. "You stay here!" he said waspishly as he fastened the vertical row of gold buttons down his jacket.

"Like I'm going anywhere," Rachel said sarcastically, raising her hands to emphasise her point.

Charlie never answered and fiddled with his pistols, making sure each one was fully loaded just in case anyone down in the town asked too many unwanted questions. With no word whatsoever, Charlie slammed the door behind him, which was soon followed by the distinct sound of the door being locked.

Down in the main town, residents milled about, going about their usual daily business as Charlie walked swiftly across the dirt road towards a small store. In the window were sets of outfits, hung up for any customers to see before purchasing.

Inside the store was quiet, with only the faint chatter from the store owner as he finished off a late lunch and gave any left-over's to his pet dog. Charlie glanced around the plain shop and let his gaze drift across the racks of clothing, all suited for any age and size. The women's section was only a few feet away on his left, towards the small counter at the very back of the store.

"Can ah help you, sir?" a short balding man asked, stepping out of a little back room. His grey shirt and black waistcoat stretched over his rounded belly. Hoping his newest customer wouldn't notice, he grabbed his silver flask and took quick mouthful of whiskey, letting it glide down his throat and soothe his nerves. But suddenly, after taking his eyes off the stranger for just a couple of seconds, he gasped loudly, almost dropping his flask. Charlie stared at him, resting his arm on the wooden counter.

"Yeah, ya can help me. I need some clothes for a young woman," Charlie requested.

"Well, we have a lot of that stuff, sir. Unless ya need something in particular," the middle aged man replied, growing scared of Charlie's wicked glare and smirk.

"Show me what ya got," Charlie insisted. "I ain't fussy."

Limping slightly, a constant reminder of an old battle wound, the middle aged fellow emerged from behind the counter and guided Charlie over to long racks and stacks of ladies clothing. "It's mainly dresses we sell for the ladies," he said quietly, not wanting to make eye contact with his customer.

"It'll do. Give me say three of em'," Charlie demanded, turning back around to glance over the men's clothing. "She'll make do with what I give her."

Before leaving the clothes store, Charlie shoved a handful of coins over the counter to the man, grinned and left abruptly. Holding the dresses over his arm, Charlie felt numerous piercing gazes from all around him. But he plodded on, heading back to the hotel to Rachel.

Rachel sighed and felt her heart beat quicker as she heard the sound of the hotel room opening. She held her breath and waited, seeing the unmistakable form of Charlie Prince enter slowly. Immediately his eyes locked on hers and he threw the three dresses down onto the bed venomously. "Try em' on," he told her, removing his hat and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"How can I try them on with my hands tied?" Rachel snapped, retreating back a little into her chair as she saw the flash of anger burst out on his face.

Getting up to his feet, Charlie grit his teeth and unbound Rachel impatiently, never taking his eyes away from hers. "You even think about runnin' and I'll put a bullet in you, I swear," he threatened, tossing the bindings into the corner of the room.

"Yes, your majesty," Rachel snorted.

"Don't even think about comin' out with THAT one!" Charlie roared, standing up to his full height, his shadow eclipsing her.

It only took a couple of seconds for it to sink in, the comedy of her words; your majesty. Charlie Prince! Rachel couldn't help but giggle. Realising her words and seeing his face twist with so much venom was too much for her. "Don't ya DARE laugh!" Charlie shouted again, but this time he couldn't help feel a slight smirk curl on his lips at the sound of her giggles. "Come on!" he began again, regaining his straight-faced expression. "Try these on."

"I'm not wearing these," Rachel protested, picking up each gown and looking at them in disgust.

"You will wear what I tell ya!" Charlie snapped fiercely.

"You wear them!" Rachel shouted, dropping them on the wooden floor boards.

"You're gonna seriously have to learn to hold ya tongue," Charlie snapped back, his voice growing loud again. "Just caus' you're a woman doesn't mean I'll go easy on ya."

Rachel snorted again. "It doesn't look like you go easy on anyone."

Charlie looked down at the dresses which had been thrown down at Rachel's feet and he sighed. Why was she so damn awkward? Most women just did what they were told, but she couldn't. All she did was protest and moan. Anger was burning inside him again. She'd wear those dresses whether she liked it or not.

Quickly, Charlie grabbed at Rachel's pyjama shirt and yanked hard on it. "You'll wear what I tell ya, Rachel!" he growled in her ear, pulling her body up to his. Rachel yelped in surprise and tugged back as hard as she could, seeing her only opportunity and let her knee connect with his groin.

Moving away in pain, Charlie groaned, resting his hands around his kneed genitals. "You bitch!" he squealed loudly. Tears of pain welled in his eyes as the pain flourished in his most private region.

Rachel prayed for a way out, her eyes wide as if she were a startled rabbit out on the highway, staring into the headlights of a fast approaching vehicle. She watched him tighten his hand into a fist and awaited his reaction with sheer terror in her expressions. But she didn't want him to know she was terrified. Her heart may have been pulsating the fastest she'd ever felt, but she wasn't going to let him win.

The man was sure stealthy on his feet and seemed to glide through the air at an amazing speed, where he grabbed Rachel by her shoulders and slammed her down into the bed. He held her down, feeling her writhe beneath his angry grip.

Her face grew red as determination surged through her veins. She WOULDN'T let him win! No man would EVER take advantage anymore.

His gaze burned into hers, but slowly he released his tight grip and continued to stare into the deep depths of her emerald eyes. Rachel stopped struggling for a moment and calmed herself, watching his face grow softer. Amazingly, her heart beat slowed down and her breaths became fewer.

Charlie took his hands away from her shoulders, never taking his eyes from hers and got up, turning away swiftly on his heel as he did so. Rachel shot up quickly, unable to unglue her eyes from him. The shaking had ceased, her heartbeat was steady and her breath was calm.

"I'll get ya some more clothes in the mornin'," Charlie said over his shoulder. "For now, I'll go and get some food." Not even looking at her, Charlie stormed out the room once more, leaving Rachel speechless and confused. Why had he suddenly changed his tune so quickly?

Downstairs, Charlie stood by the bar holding a handful of money, and awaited for the pretty maid who had checked him in earlier. "Can I get some service, please?!" he called through, banging his hand down into the dusty wooden surface.

"Yeah, Mister?" the maid asked in a non-fussed attitude, placing her hand on her hip. She instantly remembered his rudeness from earlier and decided to return the bad attitude.

"I want dinner sent up into mah room, for two," he stated directly, placing more dollar coins onto the bar.

"But we don't..." the maid began, but was instantly cut off by an immensely aggravated Charlie.

"You do now! Make it good, will ya?" With those last demanding words, Charlie left the bar area and plodded back up the stairs slowly, sighing to himself and silently awaiting the day he could be out of here with the Boss. Hopefully it wouldn't be too long and they'd be out on another raid, stealing more money and generally causing havoc among the nearby towns of Arizona.

Rachel watched Charlie re-enter the room and looked away quickly as he sat down on the bed. "We should be gettin' some food shortly," he commented, unfastening his jacket once again. "Flash some money and you're good ta go."

"I've never had to do that," Rachel replied placidly. Knowing there was no way out, it was only best she somehow try and show some kind of interest towards the man. She had no idea how she was going to get back home, and he was the only person she had. At least it was a start. "So, can I ask exactly what you do?"

Charlie looked at her in distaste. "Whatcha mean what I do?"

"I mean as in a job. What do you do for a living?" she asked, secretly knowing his answer. The way he was dressed, acted and spoke gave everything away...he was a cowboy, outlaw, gunslinger. The real John Wayne deal.

"I ride with a gang and we just steal shit," Charlie announced plainly, putting his feet up on the bed and placing his hands under his head on the pillow. "Better way of livin' I always say. Don't have to work hard for jack shit."

"Don't you ever regret hurting people and stealing though?" Rachel asked, leaning forwards and growing more interested in him.

"Why ya askin' me all this?" Charlie snapped defensively. "Am I askin' you questions? No, well shut ya mouth."

"At least I actually care about people," Rachel retorted. "I don't take people for granted and hurt them just for my own benefit."

"Alright, you're all up for questions tonight," Charlie said suddenly, resting on his arm, facing her. "What's it that you do which is so special?" He smirked as he asked, enjoying making fun of her.

"I go to college because I want to be a writer," she said calmly, folding her arms.

"A writer? And that's so special, is it?" Charlie asked, chuckling evilly.

Rachel rolled her eyes and rested back in the seat, glancing out through the net curtains to the streets below. "I enjoy writing stories. Is that so stupid?" she asked sadly, thinking back to all the people who had made fun of her through the years for putting her creative talent to good use. Laura had always been the worst for it, constantly teasing her for being a hermit, sitting in her own fantasy world.

Charlie saw the sadness in her eyes and decided not to go any further with the matter, but just to leave it rest for now. "Mah Boss, Ben Wade loves ta draw things. He'll choose the most random things, so no, it's not stupid."

A gentle tap at the door broke them from their conversation. Charlie got to his feet and opened the door, only to find the maid standing outside with a tray especially made for two guests with plates of food. "I'll take it," he said quickly, grabbing the tray from her and shutting the door again.

"It smells nice," Rachel said with a grin, feeling her stomach churn and rumble at the very smell of the freshly cooked food. "That smells like freshly baked bread." Glancing across the food hungrily, she took note of the bowls of soup, bread, eggs and bacon. "I haven't eaten for hours now."

Charlie never answered and began to tuck in straight away, absolutely famished after not eating for the last day. He broke off some of the bread and dunked it eagerly into the hot soup, smiling in delight at the thick texture sliding down his throat, mingled with the rich meaty taste.

"Looks like you're enjoying that," Rachel said, giggling at Charlie's eagerness to finish off his tasty meal. He threw down his fork and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after finishing, leaving Rachel with over half her plate still loaded with food.

"Erm, if you're still hungry, you can have some of mine if you like. I'm getting full," Rachel said kindly, pushing her plate to him across the bed sheets as they both sat on opposite sides.

"Thanks," Charlie replied, picking off some of Rachel's food with his fork.

She merely smiled to herself and lowered her head. "Charlie? Can I ask you something?" Rachel asked suddenly, still chewing remnants of bacon.

"If ya must," Charlie replied, eating Rachel's left over's with vigour.

"Why don't you think my writing is stupid? I'm just curious of course, but you said about your boss liking drawing," she enquired. She watched Charlie as he tensed a little and then looked in her direction, but his gaze seemed to dart this way and that, until it finally rested on her.

"Is that all ya do? Ask questions?" he said sternly.

"Look, I'm just making conversation with you, and I did let you have my meal. That's got to count for something," Rachel replied, smiling at him, trying to get him to return a smile like he had before.

Charlie sighed and dropped his fork onto the tray, letting it clatter. "Nothin' the Boss does is stupid. He's practically a father to me, so I know what it's like to have somethin' you enjoy."

"You seem to think the world of him," Rachel commented, smiling gently at him, although feeling sorry for his vacant, yet sorrowful expression.

"He saved mah life," Charlie replied softly, letting his usually rough voice become soft and trail off.

"How?" Rachel asked again, drawing her leg up under her body and resting against the pillow on the bed.

"He has a gun and knows how ta use it, alright?" Charlie snapped, rising to his feet. "Enough with the damn questions!"

"I'm sorry," Rachel exclaimed as she saw him move closer to her, his eyes burning again in anger.

"Ugh!" Charlie growled and eased his posture, drawing back from her. "Get some sleep, you'll be needin' it for when the Boss gets here."