Chuck vs the Wildcat

by dettiot

It's the 1870s in the American Southwest. Charles "Chuck" Bartowski, after avenging the death of his sister, falls in with gunslinger John Casey. There's a range war in El Dorado, and Chuck finds himself on one side of the war. And on that side is a woman named Sarah Walker.

10. Chapter 10: Over the Mountains

Title: Chuck vs. the Wildcat 10/12

Author: dettiot

Rating: T

Summary: It's the 1870s in the American Southwest. Charles "Chuck" Bartowski, after avenging the death of his sister, has fallen in with gunslinger John Casey. There's a range war in El Dorado, and Chuck finds himself on one side of the war. And on that side is a woman named Sarah Walker.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or El Dorado. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: The calm before the storm . . . and a chance for Chuck and Sarah to get their relationship in order before that storm. Only one more chapter and the epilogue left!

XXX

Chapter Ten: Over the Mountains of the Moon

XXX

It was a long, tense night inside the jail. Morgan had returned within a few minutes, saying that Doc Wood was away at a patient's house and wasn't expected back until the morning. With that, the sheriff said there was no sense in sitting up waiting for the doctor.

Chuck wasn't sure that anyone got much sleep-they were all too worried about Casey. By the time the sun was starting to spread its light over the landscape, all of them had given up on sleep in order to get up, talk, and drink more coffee.

Casey sat in a chair, massaging his right hand. "Got some of the feelin' back, but it still ain't gonna help me much in a gunfight."

"Maybe you just need more time," Morgan said quietly.

"Yeah," agreed Chuck, trying to stay positive. "And it's a good sign, I reckon, having some sensation come back."

Casey grunted and got up, carefully pouring himself a cup of coffee with his left hand. He had stubbornly refused any help, even though all of them would be willing to help him. But then, in a situation like this, maybe Casey had to push them aside and do things for himself, because he needed to hold on to the hope that he'd recover.

A knock on the door was followed by the drawling voice of Doc Wood. "Y'all needed a doctor, according to reports?"

Beckman opened the door and Doc Wood stepped inside, followed by a younger man. "Getting two for the price of one today," Doc Wood said. "Meet Doctor Ryan, new graduate of the University of Virginia's medical school. He'll be takin' over for me."

Doctor Ryan was tall, fair, and very young-looking. He reminded Chuck of Devon, because he had that same air of effortless excellence.

Doc Wood walked over to Casey and started examining him, speaking to the other doctor in low tones. After a few moments, Doctor Ryan took over the examination. After a few minutes, the tension rising with each soft "Hmmm" or "Oh, I see" from the doctors, Beckman broke the silence.

"So? What's the word?"

The younger doctor looked at Doc Wood, then spoke in a soft drawl, indicating his Southern roots. "It looks to me that Mr. Casey's injury is becoming increasingly dangerous. He should have surgery immediately."

"Ain't happenin'," Casey said. "Can't be laid up while we've got a range war ready to blow up."

"If you put it off any longer, you risk permanent injury, Mr. Casey," Doctor Ryan said firmly. "At the rate your nerves are recovering, the next attack will be the last one."

"And how much help are you gonna be, Casey, when you can't use your gun hand?" Doc Wood pointed out.

Casey grunted. "Seems like that's my business."

Neither doctor looked happy with that answer. Doctor Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but Doc Wood put a hand on the younger doctor's arm and shook his head.

"Don't put this off much longer, Casey," Doc Wood said. "Until then, you'll wanna keep the muscles warm: massage, hot baths, things like that. If you don't have full feeling back within a day or so, I don't care if Daniel Shaw's leadin' all the angels of Christendom against you folks: you will go under Doctor Ryan's knife, 'cause I'll be holdin' you down."

A stifled snort of laughter erupted from Morgan before he clapped a hand over his mouth. Chuck nearly laughed, too: the mental image of small, frail Doc Wood holding down the strapping John Casey was a hilarious one.

Casey glared at Morgan, then at Doc Wood, before he nodded grudgingly. "A'right, Doc."

"Good enough," the doctor said, putting his flat-topped hat back on his bald head. "Be seeing y'all."

Doctor Ryan tipped his hat to the sheriff. "Ma'am." Then he turned and followed Doc Wood out of the jail.

"At least you'll have someone who's not sixty years old with shaky hands doin' the surgery, Casey," Beckman said.

"Meant what I said-I ain't doin' it until we get this thing with Shaw settled," Casey said, his voice stubborn.

The sheriff sighed. "Well, then we better start figurin' out what we're gonna do."

XXX

An hour of talking over various plans hadn't gotten them anywhere. There seemed to be a problem with every proposed strategy. Most of the time, it was a lack of people; they could only count on the four of them and a few of Miss Gertrude's men. Even Chuck could see that against Ty Bennett and ten experienced gunslingers, that wouldn't be enough.

Chuck had just put on the coffee pot when there was a loud banging on the front door. "Sheriff? Lemme in-it's Jack Walker!"

Chuck looked over at the sheriff, surprised at the urgency in Mr. Walker's voice. She nodded and Chuck quickly opened the door, revealing both Mr. Walker and his only daughter.

It was risky to act differently towards her in front of her father, but Chuck couldn't help a quick, bright smile at Sarah. When she returned his smile weakly, her eyes worried, he knew something was wrong. He edged closer to Sarah, trying to show her some support.

Beckman rose to her feet, looking at their visitors. "Where's the fire, Walker?"

Mr. Walker shoved a grimy piece of paper out to the sheriff. "My oldest boy's been taken. By Shaw."

"What the hell?" Beckman asked, looking shocked as she took the paper and slid her glasses on.

"Adam was out with a Mexican boy, takin' care of the cattle in the back forty. Bunch of Shaw's men jumped him and sent the boy back with this note," Mr. Walker said, running a hand through his hair.

"Shoulda stayed close," Casey said with a grunt.

"Cattle gotta be watered," Mr. Walker said, glaring at Casey.

"Hush up," Beckman said. "So they want to meet with you tomorrow morning, and you'll sign over your water rights to get your son back." She lifted her head and looked at him. "What are you gonna do, Jack?"

"What choice do I have?" he asked, looking at the sheriff. "I'm gonna act like I'll sign and then I'm gonna open fire on those sons-of-bitches, with my family backin' me up."

Beckman set her jaw as she took off her glasses. "There won't be any vigilantes in my town. I know you don't wanna give in, Jack, and I don't want that either. But it's up to me to handle this."

Jack Walker arched an eyebrow. "You think you and this bunch can take Shaw and his gunhand?" He shook his head. "Not a chance."

"Ain't your call, Jack."

"Then what are you gonna do, Sheriff?" he said with a sneer, putting extra emphasis on Beckman's title.

Beckman might only be five feet tall, but she acted like a giant. She drew herself up and folded her arms across her chest, fixing her eyes on Mr. Walker. "Morgan, go get Gertie down here. We'll need some of her boys when we attack Shaw's place tomorrow at dawn."

"They'll be expectin' you to do that, Diane," Casey said.

"You think so, Casey?" The sheriff shook her head. "Word's gotten around that your gun hand's shot, thanks to that gossipy doctor. No one around here thinks much of Grimes, and they still don't know Bartowski," Beckman said, her eyes taking them all in.

"I bet right now, Shaw thinks he's got those water rights all sewn up, 'cause he thinks Jack wouldn't come to me and he knows Jack's not about to sacrifice his oldest. No, Shaw's not expectin' an attack at all. So that gives us our openin'," Beckman concluded.

Casey considered this, then shrugged. "Gotta point."

"Right. So, Morgan, git."

Morgan quickly grabbed his hat. "Yes, ma'am."

Beckman moved to her desk and sat down, taking some paper out of a drawer. Chuck watched her, thinking that he now understood why she was sheriff in the first place, and why no one had tried to replace her during her dark days. With the looming fight in front of her, she wasn't shrinking from the challenge. There was a light in her eyes, a fire, that he'd never seen before.

It gave him hope, a belief in the sheriff and what they all could achieve. Chuck hadn't realized how much he needed that.

Jack Walker rested his hands on Beckman's desk, talking to her in low tones. Casey pulled his chair over to the desk and joined the conversation, leaving Chuck and Sarah alone by the door.

He looked down at her and gave her a small smile, one that only showed a fraction of what he felt for her. "Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi, Chuck," she said softly, looking up at him.

"Are you worried about your brother?" he asked, moving a little closer to her.

"A little, but Shaw knows if he hurts him, he won't have anythin' to hold over Pop. And if Adam's hurt, Pop will be mighty mad," she said, managing a small smile.

"Not to mention you," Chuck said, leaning in towards her.

Sarah grinned at him, looking more like herself. "Yep."

"And Sarah Walker's anger is not something to be trifled with," he said, thinking of Shakespeare and his line about women scorned.

"Dunno," she said, shrugging. "Just think that 'cause I'm a woman don't mean I'm not allowed to get angry. And just 'cause I'm female don't mean I'm gonna stand back when I could do somethin' to help."

Chuck nodded. "You're right."

Sarah searched his face, but before she had a chance to say anything, Morgan stepped inside, leading Miss Gertrude.

"We're back, Sheriff," Morgan said, hanging up his hat.

"Yes, I can see that," Beckman said tartly. "Pull up a chair, Gertie."

"Thought I told you not to call me that," Miss Gertrude said, sitting down next to Casey.

"Well, Gertie, I got a lot on my mind right now. See, Adam Walker's gone and got himself snatched by Shaw, so we're gonna go get him and finish this thing with Shaw to boot."

Miss Gertrude looked amused. "You gonna make it snow in July too, while you're doin' the impossible?"

"Funny, Gertie," Beckman said. "Right, Bartowski. Let's see if that time you spent watchin' Shaw's place helps us with more than just watchin' the Ring ride in."

"What the hell's the Ring?" Jack Walker asked, sinking down into a chair across from the sheriff, as Miss Gertrude stood by, looking confused.

"Group that's tryin' to take over the Texas cattle trade. Shaw's move against you was their first big step to get that ball rollin'. When you didn't fall in line, they sent in a bunch of gunfighters. So stoppin' Shaw is about more than gettin' him off your back, Walker," the sheriff explained crisply.

Chuck noticed Sarah's double-take at the sheriff's words. He looked at her and whispered quickly, "That's why I was watching Shaw's place: we were getting info on the Ring."

She gazed up at him, then she quickly sneaked her hand into his. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then let go before walking over to sit next to her father.

And like that, a weight that Chuck hadn't known he was carrying was lifted from his shoulders.

A throat being cleared drew Chuck's attention, and he realized they were waiting on him. "Oh!" He quickly walked over to the sheriff's desk. "What do you want to know, Sheriff?"

"Gonna need to know what buildings are on the Shaw ranch. We need a map of the place," she said, looking up at him with a pencil poised over a large sheet of brown wrapping paper. "So we'll know the best places to take position."

"Okay . . ." Chuck said, taking a moment to picture Shaw's ranch in his mind. "This is all rough, but . . . the house faces west, running north-south. The stable's just behind the house's south end. There's a building in front of the house, near the path that leads up to the front door, about thirty feet from the house. I guess it's some kind of gatehouse."

He paused as Beckman sketched in those details, then kept going. "There's a barn about . . . a hundred and fifty feet away from the back side of the house, towards the northeast. Behind the house, there's a few other small buildings. One of them is the kitchen, I think." He paused and looked at the sheriff. "There aren't any other structures closer than a hundred yards to the house."

Casey and Beckman exchanged looks before the sheriff spoke. "That's good, Chuck." She looked at everyone gathered around her desk. "Okay, so this is what we've got to work with. How we gonna win this fight?"

XXX

It was dusk by the time they had their plan for the next day figured out. There had been a lot of arguing, starting with Miss Gertrude protesting about Casey being involved while his injury was still affecting him and refusing to help if he was part of this. Casey said his hand was up to about fifty percent by now, but Miss Gertrude hadn't been reassured by that. It was only when Chuck volunteered to serve as Casey's backup that Miss Gertrude had agreed to allow her men to participate in the attack.

Morgan had dug his heels in and said that they had to make sure Alejandra and the other servants, who were all blameless in this fight, were safe before things got started. Miss Gertrude had backed him up, and so the plan was adjusted to allow for the escape of the servants before any shooting started.

Chuck had made several pots of coffee, and Morgan had broken out some crackers and slightly-moldy cheese when hunger got to be too great. But now, with the work done and everyone desperate for fresh air, a hot meal, and sleep in that order, they were splitting up and going their separate ways for the evening, before reconvening at the Walker homestead tomorrow at first light.

Sarah followed her father out of the jail without giving Chuck a backwards glance. He wondered if she was worrying about her brother, or about her part in the plan. Or maybe she wasn't happy about where he'd be sleeping tonight.

To be ready for tomorrow, Chuck and Morgan would be staying at the Walker ranch tonight, bedding down in the barn. They'd also get dinner at the Walkers', something that Chuck was looking forward to based on his experiences with Rosa's cooking. Hopefully, the meal would help smooth over any awkward moments which were bound to occur. He'd never had a meal with the family of the girl that he was in love with, after all.

As Morgan drove the two of them out to the Walker ranch in an old wagon, he glanced over at Chuck. "Somethin' on your mind, buddy?"

Chuck took a deep breath of the cool twilight air. "Just . . . just thinking about tonight. And tomorrow."

His friend nodded. "Yeah. Me, too. I'm sorry about bein' so firm about Alejandra, but-"

"No need to apologize, Morgan," Chuck said. "You care about her. Of course you want to keep her safe."

"I do," Morgan said, glancing at Chuck. "You don't reckon the sheriff's angry at me, do ya?"

"Not at all," Chuck said. He patted Morgan on the back. "I think Beckman and Casey were both really impressed with you standing your ground."

"You think?" Morgan's face lit up with a grin.

Chuck nodded and smiled, letting a silence fall between them. As they got closer and closer to the Walker house, Chuck felt his nerves increasing. He fidgeted with his hat and shifted on the plank seat, bumping Morgan's elbow a few times. His friend didn't say anything until they were nearly at the Walkers'.

"You a'right, Chuck?"

With a sigh, Chuck looked at Morgan, considering whether to unburden himself. "I just . . . Sarah left without saying anything to me, and I know it's the last thing I should be worrying about, but I can't help it."

"Chuck, there's a lot goin' on right now . . . she probably didn't mean anythin' by it."

"Yeah," Chuck said. "I know you're right." He gazed off into space. "You ever feel like there's so many people you don't want to disappoint, and so you put a lot of pressure on yourself, and what if you don't live up to their expectations, and what if you can only make some people happy and not everyone-how do you choose?"

"Whoa, Chuck," Morgan said, holding up a hand. "You gotta calm down. No need to freak out like this. Like a chicken gettin' his head chopped off."

He blew out a breath, knowing that Morgan was right. "I don't want to let anyone down."

"You're not gonna, Chuck. Tonight, we're gonna have the best meal we've eaten in a while, then we're gonna get some sleep, but not before you talk to Sarah and make sure everything's good between you two. And tomorrow, we'll all ride off to save Sarah's brother, the town of El Dorado, and hell, West Texas in the bargain."

Chuck looked at Morgan, very impressed. His friend had talents he'd had no idea about, like the ability to deliver a pretty good St. Crispin's Day speech. He grinned at Morgan and nodded. "Y'know what, Morgan? If you're there, I think we've got a good shot."

Morgan's face flushed, but he smiled back at Chuck as he pulled up in front of the Walker ranch. "Funny, I was thinkin' the same thing about you, Chuck."

XXX

Morgan had been right about one thing: the dinner was one of the best he'd ever eaten. Rosa had pulled out all the stops, with three roasted chickens, piles of beans and rice, and a corn and tomato dish that was like eating summer. To top it all off, dessert was a gingerbread rich with spices and topped with whipped cream.

Chuck and Morgan had both eaten a lot, if only to make up for the Walkers' lack of appetite. The whole family barely ate anything, and only seemed to eat in order to spare their cook's feelings.

The Walkers were worried about Adam's fate, Chuck guessed. He couldn't blame them-he'd feel the same way if this had happened to Ellie. Although the silence felt awkward to him, he followed Morgan's lead and mostly kept his mouth shut except for eating. That meant he mostly watched Sarah through dinner, trying to catch her eye.

Dinner was nearly over before she finally looked at him long enough to realize he had something to say to her. She nodded, and Chuck felt relieved that he'd get to talk to her and make sure she was doing okay.

Jack Walker finally pulled his napkin from the neck of his shirt. "Get to bed, everyone-we've got a big day ahead of us." He stood and walked out of the dining room, followed by various servants and his sons.

Sarah leaned across the table and whispered to Chuck. "I'll come to the barn in a half hour."

"Okay," he whispered back, giving her a small smile before following Morgan out into the barn.

Fortunately, this barn was used for storing hay and wagons, not animals, so it was a pleasant, clean-smelling place. There was a loft that extended out over a quarter of the barn's floor of hard-packed dirt covered in hay and straw.

Chuck looked at Morgan. "Where do you think we should sleep?"

Morgan looked at him for a moment, his eyes narrowed, before his expression lightened. "If you're gonna be talkin' to Sarah, I think you should take the loft. I'll bed down here," he said, gesturing to the floor by the doorway.

He felt his ears flush. "It'd be more comfortable for you in the loft, and . . . and nothing's going to happen with me and Sarah . . ."

"I know that," Morgan said. "But if I was in your shoes, I'd wanna have some privacy. So go on." He handed Chuck two of the blankets he had brought out to the barn.

"Okay . . . thanks, Morgan," Chuck said, still feeling embarrassed. He turned and quickly climbed up the ladder into the loft.

With a half hour to kill before he could expect to see Sarah, Chuck took his time arranging his sleeping quarters for the night. The hayloft was filled with bales of hay as well as loose straw, providing something soft to sleep on. He spread one of the blankets over the hay, hoping it would be comfortable. Then he unbuckled his gun belt and set it down along with his hat. He shucked off his vest and considered whether to take his boots off, before deciding against it. With nothing else to do, he sat down near the ladder, letting his legs swing a little as they dangled over the edge of the loft.

Morgan was rolled up in his blankets, snoring softly, by the time Sarah stepped into the barn. Her eyes roamed around, then lifted and met his. She smiled softly at him, her eyes sparkling, and Chuck couldn't help smiling back. He watched as she crossed the floor to the ladder and nimbly climbed up into the loft. She settled down next to him, sitting quite close to him.

Chuck swallowed, feeling warm from her closeness. "Hello."

She laughed softly. "Hello, yourself." She leaned up and lightly kissed him.

He kissed her back for a moment, then pulled away. "You're not mad at me."

"Is that what you're thinkin' is goin' on?" Sarah asked, sounding amused.

Chuck shrugged and smiled at her sheepishly. "I know you have a lot on your mind right now, but I wasn't sure if I had done something wrong . . ."

"Trust me, Chuck," she said, laying a hand on his knee and sending sparks through his whole body, "if you had done anythin' wrong, you'd know. As it is, in all this craziness that's been goin' on, you've been the one good thing."

The smile on his face might be bright enough to light up the whole barn, he thought giddily. He gave in to the giddy happiness that was filling him by kissing her.

Her lips were soft, moving against his in a gentle kiss. He wrapped an arm around her, daring to pull her even closer to him. Chuck felt his eyes slip shut, losing himself in this, in her.

Was this normal? This feeling of completion he felt when he touched her? Was this what love was? He was becoming more sure by the minute that he loved Sarah. And he wanted to keep feeling this for as long as he could.

They kept kissing, Chuck's hand rubbing lightly against her back as he tried to find what she liked. Sarah reached out, her calloused fingertips sliding along his jaw. He opened his eyes, finding her looking up at him with those soft blue eyes.

His words came without conscious thought. "You're so pretty."

With a soft snort, she dropped her hand from his jaw. "No need to flatter me, y'know."

"It's not flattery," Chuck insisted. "You're the prettiest woman I've ever seen." He looked at her for a moment, not knowing why she doubted him. "In fact, you're beautiful."

She rolled her eyes and shifted away from him enough for his arm to fall away from her. "No, I'm not. Bein' pretty is completely useless."

Chuck tilted his head. "That's true-if something is beautiful, that usually means it has no purpose, no use, other than just being. And that's definitely not you." He took in Sarah's flushed cheeks, hoping that he was convincing her with his words. "But from the moment I met you, I thought you were beautiful. So I guess until I find the word that describes something that's beautiful and useful, we'll have to use the inaccurate word."

It took a long moment before she responded. But when she did, her voice was soft, and she slid over until her side was against his.

"You are . . . you are so aggravatin', Chuck Bartowski. 'Cause I wasn't ready for you to be so sweet." She nudged his shoulder with her own.

Feeling an extra confidence in himself, he grinned and wrapped his arm around her again. "It's sweet to tell the truth? I'll have to remember that."

She laughed. "No, but I'm just gonna keep you in suspense 'bout how you're bein' sweet. Don't want you gettin' a big head."

"Oh, I think you'll see that won't ever happen, Sarah," he said, grinning at her.

"That so?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her expression challenging.

"Yep," he said, leaning in and stealing a quick, soft kiss from her.

She kissed him back, but he could tell she was distracted. When he looked at her, he saw that her brows were knit together. "Chuck?"

He lightly ran the thumb of his free hand over her brows. "Yes?"

"Just what are you intendin'? For . . . for you and me, I mean." Her eyes searched his face, her expression thoughtful. "I know you said you wanted us to be together, and you said that you . . . that you love me," she said, her cheeks going pink. "But what does that mean exactly?"

Chuck took a breath. She had every right to be asking him that question, to find out what his intentions were. This moment could change everything for them. So he took the time to collect his thoughts before speaking.

"I . . . I want-no, what I mean to say is, I'd like us to spend more time together, since there's still a lot for us to learn about each other." He looked into her eyes and spoke softly. "I'm hoping after a year or so, we'll know for sure if that's what we want, and we'll make things official between us. Because I think it'll take a good fifty or sixty years before I really know you, and that's what I want, Sarah. To know everything about you."

Her eyes widened. "Really? That's what you want? With me?"

He could only nod before Sarah wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Is-is that okay?" he asked, raising his hand and stroking her back.

She nodded, her face pressed against his neck, then pulled away enough to smile up at him. "I'm okay with that."

Did that mean that . . . ? "Sarah?" His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed and tried again. "I don't wanna push you, but you said you weren't sure if you were ready to leap before . . ."

"That is what I said," she said, her arms still wrapped around him. Her hands plucked at his shirt collar a little. "But . . . but with everything that's happenin', seein' how Adam's wife is actin' 'cause she's worried she's never gonna see him alive again . . ." Sarah's voice trailed off and she shrugged. "Just seems silly to not get things settled between us."

"That so?" he asked, his voice choked with emotion.

She nodded, her hands stroking his shoulders. "Yeah." She looked up at him. "I needed the time to think, and the fact that you lemme have it . . . well, that went a long way towards makin' up my mind."

There was so much he wanted to say. About how he loved her, he respected her, he wanted to give her whatever her heart desired-and that was just the tip of the iceberg. But all of those things were easy to say. The real challenge was showing her that he meant them. And that's what he wanted to do: show her, every day, how much he loved her.

After a moment, a slow grin spread over Sarah's beautiful, perfect face. "Right about now would be an excellent time for kissin', Chuck."

He did his best to muffle his laughter so he wouldn't wake up Morgan. She always seemed to know the right thing to say, and this was no exception. And it wasn't wise to keep Sarah Walker waiting, so he leaned in and kissed her slowly.

Maybe it was his imagination, but this kiss felt different. Deeper, more intimate. After all, in so many words he'd proposed to Sarah and she'd accepted. That changed things. And that change made him bolder and braver than he'd ever imagined he would be.

As if they had a mind of their own, his hands started to wander over her, exploring the body that he had kept noticing whenever he saw her. Chuck had always felt he was a considerate, respectable man, but something about Sarah made his blood heat up. Made him want and need her like a body needed air.

Just because his hands tingled when he touched her didn't give him the rights to go too far, though. He knew that, so even though it might be the hardest thing he'd ever done, he kept his hands to her back, her arms, her hair and her neck.

Sarah didn't seem to be following those rules, though. Her hands had migrated from his back to his sides as she pressed against his chest as best she could from her current position. After a few moments to enjoy the feeling of her body, Chuck made himself pull back, needing both air and space.

Between pants, he managed to speak. "Sarah-we should slow down . . ."

"And why's that, Chuck?" She shifted, pulling her legs from where they had been dangling over the edge of the loft and rose up on her knees, moving closer to him. "Don't you like kissin' me?"

He gaped at her. "Of-of course I do! More than anything, you're amazing, but-"

"Then why don't we just keep goin'?" she interrupted, resting her hands on his shoulders and leaning in towards him.

"Umm . . ." was the only response he could come up with before she kissed him slowly. He closed his eyes, losing himself in her. But when her hand slid down his shirt and tugged on it, pulling it free from the waistband of his pants, he broke away from her with a gasp. "Sarah!"

"Chuck, it's okay," she said, her voice sounding breathy. "I knew what I was gettin' myself in for when I climbed up into the hayloft."

"What?" he spluttered as he gaped at her, completely confused.

The flush on Sarah's face and the dazed expression in her eyes suddenly faded, like a bucket of water had been dumped on her. "Chuck, c'mon, everyone knows about the Walker hayloft."

"I-I don't," Chuck said, stumbling a little over his words.

Sarah frowned. "Then why did you come on up here?"

Chuck swallowed, getting a bad feeling about all this. "Morgan said we could use the privacy . . ."

She let out a soft snort. "Well, he's right there, but he also tricked you a bit." Sarah smiled at him a little, but her eyes were full of embarrassment. "The hayloft in this barn is . . . kinda famous. There's been a lotta couples who have come up here, and-" She paused, her cheeks flushing, before she continued. "Well, all of 'em have happy marriages with a lotta kids."

"Oh," Chuck said, feeling his face turn red.

"Yeah, it's kinda tradition for most couples to visit the hayloft if they're serious 'bout one another. Kinda a good luck charm," Sarah said. "So when I saw you up here . . ."

"You thought that's what I was saying," Chuck said.

She nodded, looking down and fidgeting, her hands rubbing against her trousers. "I wasn't sure if you really meant that, so that's why I asked you about what you were intendin'."

Chuck nodded. He reached out and stroked her hair lightly. "I didn't know the stories about this hayloft. But that doesn't mean I didn't mean what I said, Sarah."

"No, I know that," she said. "I mean, you not knowin' those stories-that means that what you said was the honest truth."

"Yeah. It is." He gazed at her. "Sarah?"

"Yeah, Chuck?" she asked, gazing up at him.

He swallowed. "Would you stay here? Tonight? With me, I mean." He gestured over to the pallet he had made earlier. "I just want to have some extra time with you before tomorrow, and I'm not looking for anything more than to just hold you close while we sleep. I'd be the perfect gentleman, I swear it."

His request for her to stay with him was very improper. He knew that, but he just wanted to face whatever would happen tomorrow knowing what it was like to hold Sarah Walker while she slept.

Sarah's eyes locked on his. It was like she was searching for something that would help her make her decision. Whether she was trying to read his expression or get a glimpse of his soul, Chuck wasn't sure. But after a moment, she must have found whatever she was looking for, because she nodded slowly.

"Really? You'll stay?" he asked, his voice hushed from the gravity of the moment.

"Well," she said, a teasing note in her voice and a grin on her lips, "I'm not sure how I feel about you bein' a perfect gentleman-I think that's a bit unnecessary, but . . ." She looked at him, her grin fading into a soft smile and her voice growing serious, "But it's very sweet of you, and I'm not ready to leave yet, so . . . yes."

He smiled back widely at her, a bit embarrassed at how happy she could make him. Standing up carefully, he held his hand out to her. "Then come with me."

She took his hand, coming to her feet gracefully. They walked hand in hand to the bed he had created earlier, and approaching that bed made the reality of this situation sink in for him.

"Um . . . I'll get this rearranged," he said, dropping her hand. He leaned down, adjusting the blankets and spreading them out.

When he glanced up at her, she looked surprised. "What?" he asked, pausing in his work.

"Nothing!" she said. "I just . . . I can't see my father or my brothers fussin' with the blankets like that. It's too close to women's work for 'em. But I like that you don't mind."

He smiled at her, shrugging a shoulder. "Men's work, women's work, it's all work. What does it matter who does it?"

She nodded, still looking a bit surprised, then she smiled at him. "Good point." She rested a hand on his shoulder, bracing herself as she toed off each of her boots. She then undid the belt around her small waist and slid it out of the belt loops of her pants.

Chuck knew he was staring. He knew this wasn't perfect gentleman behavior. But she was just so confident. So sure of herself. And when she wasn't, when she let him see her uncertainty and her vulnerability, it made that confidence even more attractive. He felt the urge to reach out, to pull her into his arms and kiss her and never let her go until they were one.

Swallowing hard, Chuck stood quickly. There'd be no putting such thoughts into action tonight. He stood on one foot as he yanked on his boot, hopping a little as he pulled it off. He repeated the process with his other boot, then hesitated before pulling off his own belt.

Sarah had been watching him, biting lightly on her lower lip. He knew that with all her brothers, she was used to men, but he wondered if she felt any butterflies herself. He took a deep breath, very aware of Sarah's eyes on him. "Go ahead," he said, waving his hand towards their makeshift bed. "Get comfortable."

"Yeah . . ." Sarah said, her voice a bit high. She turned and slid underneath the blanket, the hay underneath her rustling.

Waiting until she stopped moving, Chuck slowly approached her. He felt clumsy as he crawled into the bed next to her, trying not to jab her with an elbow or a knee as he searched for a sleeping position.

"Here," she said softly, shifting so that her body was curled up against his, her head lightly resting against his chest just over his heart. She gently tugged one of his arms over her ribcage, and her feet brushed against his. She looked up at him. "Okay?"

He cleared his throat before replying. "Yeah." It was more than okay, to have her soft yet firm body so close to his, feet and knees and torsos coming into contact. "Never . . . never shared a bed with someone before. I mean, like this."

She smiled up at him. "Me, neither. But this is real nice."

All he could do was nod, and Sarah smiled wider. She closed her eyes and rested against him.

Chuck tucked his free arm underneath his head. His other hand moved lightly over her lower back, and with each pass of his fingers he felt her body relaxing more.

"More than nice," she said sleepily.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "You know, Sarah, after tonight, I'm going to have a hard time not asking you to marry me. Officially, I mean, instead of waiting a year."

He wasn't sure if she heard him, or if she had fallen asleep. He closed his eyes, almost wishing she hadn't heard him. But then, she spoke softly, words that made his eyes pop open. "I'd have a hard time not sayin' yes." She cuddled up against him. "G'night, Chuck."

"Good night, Sarah," he said softly, savoring the sweetness of this moment. To say good night to her, and know that it was just the first of many.

He'd already been determined that he'd do his part tomorrow, find a way to survive. But now that he had Sarah to live for, it made his determination harden into something firmer, stronger. No matter what, he wanted to live through tomorrow. He wanted to marry Sarah, give her everything she wanted, and spend every day loving her.

After tomorrow morning, he'd have his whole future ahead of him. He just had to do his part and hope for the best.

Chuck closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Sarah against his body as he fell asleep.

End, Chapter 10