A/N: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews. I hope you like the next chapter! This is for you...

Chapter Three

As the moon rose higher in the air outside the window, Charlie rested himself back into the comfortable seat, pulling the net curtain aside now and again with a long finger to take in the view of the town below. Rachel was lying on the bed, her one hand resting under the side of her face on the pillow. The rich dinner still felt heavy in her stomach. She stifled a burp, feeling it rise in her throat then voluntarily pushed it back.

Everything had been silent between her and Charlie for a while now after her series of irritating questions. He'd chosen to seek temporary solitude in his own thoughts as he fingered his one pistol uneasily in his hand. Questions about his relationship with Ben Wade always made him feel uneasy. Why couldn't people just keep their thoughts and questions to themselves?

Slowly Rachel let her mind drift away to another place, watching swirling shapes form behind her eyelids. All her senses seemed to blur into nothing as sleep took her away. For the first time during the many hours she'd spent in this time and place, she felt inner peace.

Charlie watched Rachel close her eyes and tried his hardest to think back on the last time he'd watched a woman fall asleep. He watched her forehead crease and her lips purse together as she writhed a little, curling her arms around herself. For a brief moment he found himself wondering what she was imagining, but discarded that thought immediately afterwards, placing his attention back on his pistol.

Glancing quickly at the clock, Charlie read the Roman numerals which told him it was just after eight. It looked as though they'd both be facing an early night tonight. Pushing his hat forwards, covering any sign of his tired eyes, he rested back in the chair and folded his arms.

xxx

Rachel woke with a start, glancing around the dark room quickly and gasping. For a brief second she lost all knowledge of where she was, only to be brought back to reality by Charlie's snores. A small strip of moonlight shone through the curtains, dancing across his face. Positioning herself on the edge of the bed, Rachel looked at Charlie for a couple of seconds, letting her green gaze drift down his body. His pistol was in his lap, his head rested against the back of the chair and his arms remained folded.

By now Rachel knew she badly needed to relieve herself, but it was late. She knew this because there was very little in the way of sound out in the town below. The only light in the room was the thin strip of moonlight which illuminated Charlie and nothing else.

Pressure was building in her stomach as she let her eyes flit around the room. Realisation hit her hard: Charlie still had the key to the door. It was in his waistcoat pocket. If only she could somehow take it without him knowing, let herself out...and what then? Should she run?

The door somehow seemed miles away and the prospect of successfully grabbing the key from Charlie, letting herself out without waking him and getting to some kind of outhouse was bleak. The idea of waking him crossed her mind, but how would he react?

Calming her gasps, Rachel thought rationally about everything. As if anything WAS rational. She was sitting here with an outlaw, trapped in a hotel room, ready to be given to a gang for their disgusting satisfying purposes. But she wasn't going to let that terror show; she'd told herself that earlier on in the afternoon. Remain strong. Don't let on how you really feel inside. Rachel had become an expert at this kind of thing by now. For years she'd kept herself to herself, saying little in social gatherings and sticking with only herself for any kind of responsibility. As a child she'd concluded that it was better that you rely solely on yourself. If you let yourself down, you only have yourself to blame. Now at the age of twenty, Rachel knew she couldn't continue on this way.

Getting up from the bed slowly, Rachel grimaced as she tried hard not to step on any loose, creaky floorboards.

Please, please, please. Help me. Her internal voice kept praying, hoping for some way out of this place. Her hand reached out, touching the sheets and crushed dresses which Charlie had brought for her earlier. She felt her way around the edge of the bed, using the outline of Charlie as her guide.

Her heart continued thumping whilst her cheeks burned and her throat grew dry, almost as dry as when she was in the scorching heat that very afternoon. She closed her eyes again as she approached Charlie, her hand reaching out towards him. Suddenly he grunted in his sleep, his mouth wide open and twisted to one side.

Sighing, Rachel continued on forwards, catching sight of a slight bulge in his waistcoat pocket. She reached down...further and further, her heart racing, her breathing quickened by the terror. Her eyes were wide now, watching Charlie intently as she stepped closer still, almost upon him.

Rachel's hand shook and beats of sweat dripped down from under her long strands of brown hair. Her fingers brushed ever so gently across the soft fabric of Charlie's blue waistcoat. She swallowed hard, trying not to shut her eyes.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Charlie roared ferociously, his eyes suddenly opening. Rachel shot back on her feet, stumbling uneasily to the floor. Charlie rose up from the chair, holding his pistol in his hand. "I told ya, if ya try and bolt, I put a bullet in ya."

In sheer desperation and panic, Rachel pushed herself backwards across the wooden flooring on her backside. Her socked feet slid in all directions across the surface. "P..please, I just needed the toilet," Rachel protested. "I didn't want to wake you."

"Bullshit!" Charlie shouted. "I ain't stupid, Rachel, so don't treat me like I am."

Quickly, Charlie got down on his knees and grabbed Rachel's small arm, tightening his gloved hand around it. "Ah may as well just left ya out there to die of hunger and thirst. Ya ain't worth the trouble." He pulled her up fiercely, literally dragging to her feel awkwardly. Her legs shook beneath her curvy frame. "You wanna go piss, I'll take ya."

"Take me?" Rachel asked, tugging a little under his grip. "I'm not five years old anymore." Her heart still raced as he pulled her along with him to the door.

"Ya certainly act like ya are," Charlie scoffed, opening the creaky wooden door with the key from his waistcoat pocket. Rachel still remained firmly beneath his tight grip, desperately trying to keep up with his quick pace.

Together Charlie and Rachel walked down the flight of carpeted steps and into the main saloon area where drunken men still remained, washing away their worries with whiskey and ale. The clock on the wall showed that is was already have past midnight, not long until closing time when the maid would have to throw all the last customers out.

In the darkness of the main high street, Charlie suddenly stopped after dragging Rachel around tables and down the steps leading into the hotel and accompanying saloon. His eyes searched the night air for any signs of an outhouse.

Rachel tugged hard and pulled herself free suddenly. "You don't have to drag me around with you everywhere like a bloody child!" she shouted at him.

Charlie glared at her angrily. "What the hell did ah tell you about ya tongue? You're becoming one mouthy little bitch! Just get in there, have ya piss and if you even dare do anythin' funny, ya know what happens."

"I don't know where it is," Rachel replied, sighing.

"Ya got eyes, ain't ya?" Charlie hissed through clenched teeth.

Rachel rolled her eyes, finding Charlie more amusing than anything when he was angry, but that amusement was teetering somewhere on the fine line which crossed into fright. She never bothered to glance back behind her, and began her search for the outhouse. Her bladder was under intense pressure now, threatening to burst.

Everything seemed to blur inside her mind. Here she was in Arizona, back over a hundred years previously and was walking an old cowboy town in nothing but her pyjamas searching for somewhere to relieve her aching bladder. No matter how many times Rachel asked herself if this was all an extremely vivid dream, she always knew the answer; this was far from a dream.

There was a stinging chill to the air that evening. Rachel walked slowly on, feeling the chill spread to each part of her trembling body. It crossed her mind once more: should she run? But she knew it would do no good. Where could she go this time of night in the dark? God knows what was out there. She couldn't ride a horse and would be at risk of falling from the saddle and breaking her neck.

Charlie waited by the steps, his green eyes searching for Rachel through the darkness. He was tired and still hungry. That meal from earlier had only filled one small corner of his stomach, he needed more. The dirt at his feet was kicked viciously by his brown boot whilst he glanced down at his dirty fingernails.

Who exactly was this girl? It confused the hell out of him but he decided to just go along with it all and see exactly how this girl could be of use to him. She was nicely proportioned and had pretty eyes: a deep forest green. The thought of taking advantage of her had crossed his mind, but he sensed 'something' inside her. The way she back-answered and challenged him. No other woman had ever had the courage to put up such a fight.

Rachel squatted down, holding herself above the dirty wood as she relieved her aching bladder. The smell was putrid, churning her stomach and bringing back the food she'd eaten earlier. Somewhere behind her she could hear the faint buzzing of flies, causing her to wretch suddenly and almost fall to her knees.

Charlie sighed as he waited and sat down on the step leading back into the hotel. For a brief moment he thought of the Boss, hoping he'd be here soon so they could get back out there on raids. All the years he'd rode with Ben, he'd never felt a sense of accomplishment like it. He was the right hand man to one of the most notorious and famous outlaws in America. But sometimes Charlie missed the ordinary life he'd left behind him all those years ago after the death of his younger brother, Tom. He couldn't help but smile as he thought back on the happy days he spent with his brother, teaching him to ride his first horse and playing in the nearby fields. That happiness was never meant to last long. The Prince brothers were usually tormented verbally and physically by their drunkard father, crying long into the night for some kind of escape.

"Ya took ya time," Charlie said quietly, glancing up at Rachel as she approached. Her face was as white as snow.

Rachel's eyes were slightly glazed as she tried desperately to fight back the urge to let go of the entire contents of her stomach. "Remind me next time to just squat in a ditch and do it there," Rachel said, walking up the steps in front of Charlie.

Back in the room, Rachel dropped onto the bed and closed her eyes, feeling dizzy and completely swamped with nausea. She watched Charlie slowly position himself back down on the seat next to the window as she glanced through a half open eye. "Good night," she said weakly, rolling back over to face the opposite direction.

Charlie remained silent and settled himself down, watching the night grow older.

xxx

The next morning Rachel rose early to the sound of Charlie tapping his foot against the dusty floorboards while he remained seated. "Did you know ya talk in ya sleep?" he asked suddenly as he noticed her wake. He sat forwards, leaning towards her. "Ya never shut up, do ya?" he asked, chuckling.

"I know I do. I have since I was little," Rachel snapped back. "What? Do you think you're so perfect?" she said again, rubbing a hand through her tangled locks. Memories of her dreams came back to her, dreams of being home with her family.

Charlie merely scoffed to himself and turned away, allowing the warm morning sun to bathe his face. "Those dresses ain't gonna just lie there," he said, changing topic suddenly. "Ah plan on takin' ya out this evenin'."

"Oh really? Play the Prince Charming," Rachel retorted, letting her face brighten up into a smile as she realised her slip up once again.

Charlie's face remained stern but as he watched her laugh, he couldn't help but smirk. "Ya really know how to joke about mah name, don'tcha?" he asked, grinning.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, lowering her head, a smile still visible. "I've known people with worse surnames."

xxx

The day ground by slowly as Rachel remained in the small, enclosed bedroom with only Charlie for any kind of amusement. But their conversations were few and far between. Most of the time he remained by the window, in his own thought. Their breakfast tray lay on the bedside table along with a bottle of whiskey which Charlie had requested down in the main bar around midday.

Rachel, as inquisitive as she was, noticed a small drawer in the bedside table. Her hand reached out and pulled it open, discovering a tatty old book inside. Her hand brushed down the dusty front which had two golden letters written across the black, leather-like surface. "What's that?" Charlie asked suddenly, noticing her small discovery.

"I don't know," Rachel said, her brow crumpling as she crossed her legs on the bed and opened the very first page. "The diary of Ronald .G. Smith," Rachel read out.

"Lemme look," Charlie called out, grabbing the book from her small hands quickly. His eyes darted over the first page, unable to understand the words. "T...the...d...day," he began, stumbling heavily on the most simple of words.

Rachel moved over toward him, glancing over his shoulder. "The day began with such wonderful news," she read out.

Charlie swallowed hard, feeling stupid as he listened to her voice flow so elegantly with the words. Venomously, Charlie got to his feet and tossed the book onto the bed. He crossed his arms tightly and stood by the window, feeling sadness once again rise in his heart. "You okay?" Rachel asked, approaching Charlie from behind, but still maintaining her distance.

"Yeah!" he snapped. "No...," he said again, growling to himself. He clenched his hands into fists, thinking of all those nights his Ma read to him, trying hard to help him, but sadly she never succeeded. Tom had been so good at his reading and picked everything up so easily, leaving Charlie in shame and to his father's boot.

"Ya was always stupid, Charlie!" his Pa shouted, dragging nine year old Charlie to the floor. "Can't even read ya own name!" Charlie burst into tears, feeling hot rods of pain stab him continuously over his slim body.

"No, Pa. Please!" he screamed as his Ma covered Tom's ears, weeping for her older son.

Charlie's eyes filled with sadness as he thought on the heart wrenching memories, re-living them so vividly in his mind. "Ah can't read," he said quietly to Rachel. He remained in front of the window, staring intently down at the bull market below.

Rachel stepped a little closer warily.

"Pa would say I was stupid," Charlie admitted.

"You're not stupid, Charlie," Rachel replied, feeling herself actually feel sorry for the outlaw. He had his weakness just like everyone else in the world. "Some people find it hard."

"Get dressed. We're goin' out later," he announced suddenly, turning around and glaring into her eyes. He couldn't believe that he'd actually told her something so personal about himself. Part of him feel somehow relived, but he hated feeling so vulnerable and weak. Charlie Prince was not weak and would never show any signs of it in his personality.

xxx

Rachel didn't argue and did as directed: got dressed into one of the dresses. She felt utterly ridiculous under the red frills and thick corset which made her feel like her body was imploding. "Charlie, do I have to wear this?" she asked, stepping up to the outlaw and holding her arms limp at her side. "It looks stupid."

Through Charlie's eyes Rachel looked far from stupid. His lusting gaze dipped over every crevice of her curvy body and came to rest on her generous breasts which were accented by the tight satin fabric. He hadn't lain with a woman now in two months and was feeling that need to satisfy himself. He blinked suddenly, throwing himself out of his sudden train of thought and grabbed her arm possessively, guiding her out the room.

Rachel nearly tripped up over her dress as she and Charlie walked down the steps, gradually becoming noticed by the patrons taking up the seats in the bar on the lower level of the hotel. Rachel's heart pounded as she noticed leering stares from dirty looking men. She felt truly disgusted and looked away, trying to concentrate on the old man who was serving behind the bar. "What might I getcha?" he asked, smiling politely at Charlie.

"Anythin' ya got," Charlie replied. "Surprise me."

Within only two minutes a sturdy built man approached Rachel, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Ah'll double ya usual going rate, darlin'" he said perversely, grinning and showing off his broken and stained teeth.

Charlie spun on his heel, noticing the man and grabbed his pistol from his holster. "Ya'll be chokin' on lead if ya touch her," he said suddenly, letting his eyes glaze with hatred.

Rachel breathed heavily and felt her head spin suddenly as she contemplated her next move. The door wasn't very far and without even thinking, she dashed. It was her only way out now; she couldn't stand being here.

"Rachel?" Charlie shouted, shoving his pistol back in the holster and following her out of the bar, ignoring the man's evil sniggers. His eyes remained glued to the back of her red dress as he darted out of the hotel and watched her dash.

Gasping and near to tears, Rachel fled across the street, hearing roaring protests as a huge shadow approached and the neighing of frightened horses. With no word or warning she felt herself being pushed forwards and fell hands first down into the dirt. As she gathered her courage, Rachel turned back to see a stagecoach charge on past and Charlie gripping her tightly.