A/N - Finally here's chapter 13! 13! That's so many! I feel so accompliced with this story! It's my pride and joy! :D This story is going to be long, but only becuase the plot is so long and a LOT of stuff has yet to happen. I hope this doesn't put anyone off. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers, escpecially my constant ones. They know who they are. :) I encourage you all to review, let me hear your thoughts and opinions. It makes me happy when people review. I'd alos like to hear your opinions on Eva. :) Anyway, enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not, nor will I ever own Red Dead Redemption or anything related to it. This fanfiction is purely fan made and I only own characters and places that are new. I apologise if any of this material offends any one. I assure you I don't mean to offend in any way, shape or form. This story will contain coarse language and graphic violence.
Chapter 13 – A sheriff and a wound.
My nerves tingled as feeling slowly washed over my body, like a warm rain. My world had momentarily turned a dark and lonesome black. My eyes fluttered open, the harsh sunlight hurting my eyes and causing me to squint. Voices reached my ears from somewhere behind me. "What we gonna do? I aint killed no lady before."
"Well, there's a first time for everything." I turned slowly and looked over my shoulder. I could see tree men, huddled close together with rifles in their hands. They were luckily not looking at me, but discussing something between themselves. My mind began working, the gears turning like an old water mill. I realised how vulnerable I was and a feeling of panic spread over me. My hazel eyes flitted over the over the chokingly dusty ground. I spotted my Henry laying arms length away, my pistol nearby. I cursed mentally and reached out, fingers spread wide. I grasped for it but my digits grazed no cold metal, only air. My Henry was suddenly kicked away from my seeking fingers, sliding through the dust. I followed the dirty boot that had kicked my gun all the way to the face of a man. He sneered cockily down at me. "Now jus' what do ya think you're doing?" he asked. He spoke with a strange accent, and an ever so slight lisp. I gulped as fear began to grasp at my throat. Damn, I jus' need my gun!
The man addressed his friends. "Boys, this here is why ya don't leave an enemy alive, even if they are a woman." His gaze turned to my sprawled out body. "Aint that right? Ya were gonna shoot me in the back!" I gritted my teeth as the man burst into a cackle. Fear was now clawing at my heart. I shuffled forward, now reaching for my Schofield. My hands craved for the feel of the gun; I craved the safety it brought – but not so much the dangers. The man's heeled boot slammed down on my lower back, sending me collapsing to the ground. Dancing plumes of dust arose beside me, twisting and twirling in to the wind. "Ah, ah, ah," the man hissed. "Not so fast." I heard the click of a gun. No, I thought. I can't die! My heart was hammering in my chest, and the dust was suffocating me and sending my head spinning. I let out a few coughs, my ribs shaking. I kept reaching towards my gun, reaching as far as I could. Pain burned within my nerves, my head spun and my body wracked with the icy cold emotion called fear. Its scaly hand constricted my neck as the cold muzzle of the gun pressed mercilessly against the base of my neck. Time seemed to slow. Is this really how it ends, I thought, eyes welling up with tears. Why is this happenin'? I'm good at this! Why am I going to die?
I screwed my eyes shut and counted my last moments. Suddenly, a gunshot rung through the air, followed by another, and another. I stayed still. I couldn't feel any burning sensations in my body. No searing bullets lodged in my skin. My eyes slowly cracked open, and I attentively looked around me. Three bodies laid dead, blood oozing from the bullet wounds in their head or chest. I stared at them, eyes wide and heart hammering. "Eva!" A voice reached my ears and I suddenly snapped out of my numb state. I was suddenly aware of everything around me, each nerve ending finely tuned to my environment. I blinked slowly and began to slowly get up, my lower back aching from where the man had stamped on me.
Two large hands gripped my upper arms in a strong grip and hauled me to my feet. Jack's face suddenly came in to focus and a sudden rush of relief hit me. "Are you okay?" Jack asked hurriedly. I nodded slowly, aware of the worry creasing his face.
"Yeah... I'm fine, just... that was scary." I placed a trembling hand over my slowing heart. Jack sighed harshly.
"What were ya thinkin'!" he scolded. I felt a pang of guilt and shrugged sheepishly.
"They snuck up on me. They got me from behind, I didn't even see them comin'-"
"God dammit, Eva! I told ya to be careful." I was taken aback by his use of profanities and his angry tone, but his face read worry and relief that I was still alive and in one piece. He sighed and picked up my guns. "Here," he said, handing them to me. "Let's finish what we started, but this time you're sticking with me."
Jack grabbed my elbow and pulled me along behind him. We ran to the side of an old building and plastered ourselves against the wood. Jack peeked around the corner but quickly withdrew his head after two bullets chipped the wood. "There's just two left," he said, motioning to an old abandoned sheriff's office. "They're holdin' up in there, then I think there's some in the mansion and that's it." I nodded and looked around him, chancing a look at our enemies' positions. Two round faces were peering round corners and out of a pane less window. Their dirtied faces were staring at our direction, and one raisied his gun. I quickly ducked back as a shot was fired.
We stood in the shade a moment longer before sharing a look. "Ready?" I asked. Jack nodded.
"Ready." Jack was first to move. He sprung from the cover and fired his gun expertly, before sprinting to the corner of a building opposite. I peeked around the corner then aimed my rifle at the remaining outlaws. Their attention was focused solely on Jack who was shooting at them, as they shot back. I focused on the nearest man; the one who's dirty, sneering face was peeking out of the window opening. I pulled the trigger and closed my eyes tightly as fluffy smoke blew back in to my face. . Once the white gas was out of my face I opened my eyes and peered at the window. The man was gone. I must've hit him! I turned my flittering hazel gaze to the doorway where the last man finally fell.
I stepped from cover cautiously, not knowing whether there were others hiding in the shadows of the boxy, mundane buildings. I glanced around my surrounding and deemed it safe. I walked over to the sheriff's office as Jack stood in the centre of the dust laden path, shielding his eyes with his hands and haphazardly holding his rifle in his other hand. He was staring up at the mansion surveying it's dead appearance. I holstered my gun and seized the house up. From this distance, it looked even more daunting but had an unshakable air of impressiveness.
Faint cried reached my ears. I froze and snapped my head towards the sheriff's building, the direction they had come from. I glanced back at Jack but he appeared to not have heard them. I opened my mouth to alert him but another muffled cry came from the building. I stayed stock still, afraid to even breathe for fear I would miss another minuscule sound. "Help me!" My heart skipped a beat as the cries sounded louder and closer, finally forming words. "In here! I'm a sheriff!" A sheriff?
Without thinking I ran into the dilapidated building, my heels thudding on the wood. My eyes fell upon an old cell, shrouded in darkness, its bars rusty and the walls streaked with grime. A man – a sheriff – laid in the centre of the cell, face first onto the unforgiving, hard floor. He was hogtied painfully and a piece of cloth that I guessed had been used as a gag was hanging loosely around his neck. He was breathing heavily, and his face was shadowed by his once white hat which was now smudged with dirt and a tiny splatter of blood going up the side.
He stiffly turned his head up to look at me with surprisingly light blue eyes. They instantly made him look younger, and he suddenly gasped out in a raspy voice, "Girl, help untie me." I nodded and stepped forward to help but a thud and a laboured gasp broke my concentration. I froze and blinked at the moving shape of a man. I narrowed my eyes for the darkness cast over him from the shadows blurred out his face, but they widened with unbridled terror when I realised it was the man I had shot through the window. Blood was smeared across his chest. His breathes were in short, raspy gasps as his trembling hands moved towards his belt. I realised he was reaching for his pistol and instantly my hands flew to my Schofield. In my fear my hands fumbled clumsily, fingers slipping off the cool, smooth metal of my gun. My eyes flashed up at the dying man to see he had drawn it and was slowly aiming at me. I gasped and managed to grab my gun and I ripped it from my holster. I pulled it up and aimed almost blindly and fired. Two shots rang through the air. One from me and one from the man.
My bullet hit its mark, embedding its searing self into his stomach. His shot, however, tore painfully through my arm.
"Ah-" I fell backwards, dropping my gun and letting it clatter to the ground as I landed on my behind. I hissed and clasped my left hand quickly onto my right arm. A gnash had appeared from where the bullet had skimmed through my arm. It was about two inches deep and bleeding freely. I bit my lip, digging my canines into the soft and sensitive flesh, to hold back a string of curses and screams. I gasped and screwed my eyes tight. I had never felt such a pain before! I had had my fair share of kicks, bites and falls from animals, but there was something about a bullet that seemed to magnify the pain and send hot flushes racing over my body. I opened my eyes and looked to the sheriff. He was looking at me with worry. He gasped out, "Ya all right? You been shot?"
I swallowed thickly and said, "No, I just..." I couldn't think of an excuse. I was panicking and something told me to hide the wound. I felt embarrassed, embarrassed that I had been shot by a dying man. "It scared me, and I fell, and I hurt my arm... that's all."
Footsteps outside suddenly hammered against wood as the rectangle of light was obscured by Jack's figure. "Eva! You okay? I heard shots?"
"Yeah, one of the guys was still alive... so I shot him, but then... I fell and... hurt my arm." I tried my hardest to make my voice smooth and pain free. Jack approached, glancing over at the now deceased man. "Is your arm okay?" I brushed him off, fearing he'd see the wound.
"I-I'm fine, but... there's a sheriff all tied up." I motioned to the painting sheriff who was wriggling in his bonds.
"Could ya'll untie me?" Jack stared at the man puzzled before walking over.
"OK... How'd ya get here, partner."
There sheriff answered, "I was here... to clear this god forsaken place out... but the first thing I know... my... my horse is shot out clean from underneath me! Then... I'm all tied up here." Jack began to untie the man while I rocked to my feet. I grabbed my revolver and holstered it with difficulty, before walking over to the dead man.
"I'm gonna check and see... if he's got anything useful on him," I told Jack, weaving a web of lies.
Jack nodded and answered, "OK." I wasn't interested in what the man had. What I needed was an excuse for the blood on my hand. I could lie and say it was from looting the body.
I was confused as to why I was keeping it from Jack. Part of me feared the embarrassment and the fear that he could reconsider our journey and send me back to the MacFarlane's. I had already nearly been shot in the back of my head, so this wound could have the straw that broke the camel's back. I needed to examine my wound so I excused myself from the room. "I'm gonna go have a look around outside," I said, standing and shuffling to the door, shielding my arm from their sight. Jack glanced up as he helped the sheriff to his feet. "All right, jus' be careful."
I slipped from the shade and into the sun. The heat hit me, making my head spin. I glanced around before joggin' over to an old abandoned saloon. A man laid dead near the entrance but I jumped over him, more concerned with my wound. I removed my hand and spread it, palm up, infront of me. It was bloody, with the warm life source slipping between each digit. I sighed and flicked it, shaking the excess blood off it. I then turned my arm and gingerly pulled the wet fabric of my own shirt from the wound. It was luckily not life threatening but still make the world dull to my senses as my body suffered from the loss of blood. The blood flow was slowling, my body undergoing the process of healing. I stretched my arm out and looked around for an old cloth or something similar to wipe my red coated hand on. A dusty, creased and moth eaten cloth was slung over an old chair. I took the opportunity to wipe my hands and seized the cloth.
Back outside, Jack and the sheriff were standing, looking in the direction of the mansion. I shyly stood behind them, worried Jack would see my wound. "I'm thinkin' there's only around 15, maybe 20 in that there mansion," the sheriff said. His voice was smoother and rich, now he wasn't tied awkwardly.
"That aint too many... Eva, you OK?" Jack had spotted me out of the corner of his eyes and now turned to me. I nodded hurriedly and approached on his right, hidin' my arm from his view. "Yeah... I'm fine." I looked at the sheriff who was staring at me curiously. He smiled and held out his hand.
"Sheriff Clarke, pleased to meet ya." I raised my hand to shake but paused as my hand opened to reveal a hideous stain of violent red; my blood. Moth men started.
"Why's your hand red?" Jack asked, concerned. I forced out a laugh, keeping up my facade.
"Oh, sorry, it's from the guy I looted."
"What? All of that blood?" Jack sounded close to being horrified. My heart rate increased as I feared him being smarter than I thought.
"Yeah, I had to reach into his chest pocket and that's where he was bleeding, so there was lots of blood..." Jack stared at me for a few moments, searching my eyes for the truth. Thankfully, he seemed to buy it and backed down. "OK... If ya say so."
I looked to Sheriff Clarke who was looking at my arm suspiciously. "Nice to meet ya, Sheriff Clarke. Eva White," I introduced myself and nodded respectively. His face twisted in concentration for a few seconds before it suddenly changed in to a look of cheerfulness. "Nice to meet ya, miss White."
Clarke was wearing a dirty maroon shirt with a white waist-coat over it. It had brass buttons and all were done up bar one at the top. A customary gold star sat proudly on his waistcoat. His shirt was tucked into his jeans, the item held up by a leather belt with a brass buckle. His boots were black was a little dirt over them. His hair was a dirty blonde colour, and fell a little over his eyes. His eyes were by far his most striking feature. They were an entrancing blue, and this man had to be little over 20.
"I was just saying to Jack here," he began. "You two have some mighty fine shootin' on ya. Ya took out a whole town of outlaws!" I couldn't help the smile at his compliment.
"Thank you!" Jack laid a hand on my un-injured shoulder.
"We're just preparing to go and clear out the mansion," he said to me. I nodded and pulled out my Schofield.
"Let's get goin' then!" Jack sighed but smiled, while Sheriff Clarke chuckled.
"Well, this is a first! A woman with iron!"
Jack commented, "Wait till ya see her in action, she aint that bad!" I raised a brow and pouted at him.
"Pardon me, oh great Jack Marston. What did ya say?" Jack chuckled and began walking, followed closely by Sheriff Clarke.
"Let's jus' get moving. We've had enough of your antics Eva," Jack teased. I pouted but followed obediently.
We stormed into the mansion, fallen men scattered around its entranced. We had shot them quicker than some of them could even pull out their guns. Sheriff Clarke was good. He expertly wielded a Double-action revolver, shooting down enemies left and right. He and Jack ran in front while I followed behind, my arm aching. I tried my hardest to shoot normally, though my shots missed more often than hit. Thankfully, Jack didn't seem to notice. The two men dove on to either side of the door, me quickly clamouring up the stairs and diving next to Jack. He glanced back at me before focusing on the enemies round the door. "Are ya sure your okay? Ya seem a little out of touch." My breathing hitched slightly but I acted completely normal.
"Yeah, my arm jus' hurts a little from where I pulled it or something." This wasn't a total lie. My arm ached, making gun wielding hard. I had limited movement and too much exercise would increase the blood flow and I would be likely to reopen the wound again. "Well, when this is all over perhaps I should take a look at it."
"No, no. That's OK. I'm sure it will be OK."
A shower of bullets hit the wood, and I feared that for a second the bullet had pieced the wood. Luckily, they had become lodged in it. Jack and the Sheriff nodded to each other before they leapt round the door and began firing away. I hesitated, but followed them in, shooting my own gun every now and again. Men fell from the dilapidated stairs, then fell from behind their cover made of old, moth eaten couches or chipped tables missing legs. Soon all the men in the lower floor of the house had fallen. It was weird, being back. Last time Jack and I had been here, we had found the place abandoned and had leisurely walked around, finally stumbling across the body of George Abraham. Snapping out of my reverie I discovered Jack and the Sheriff were beginning to descend the creaking stairs. "You go on ahead, I'll wait here!" I shouted up to them. Jack looked back, unsure.
"Really?" I nodded.
"Of course. You don't need me anyway." Jack opened his mouth to say something but Sheriff Clarke cut him off.
"There's some more up here!" His attention was drawn away from me and to the outlaws.
I watched him run up the stairs before walking around the ground floor. The blood splatters up the wall added to the tense and unsettling aura this place had. I heard gunshots up stairs, yells, thuds and the powerful smell of smoke. I peered in each room, trying to imagine the house in its former glory.
I came across a door that opened to reveal a staircase leading down into a basement. I stood hesitantly at the top of the stairs before descending them. I couldn't hear a sound. I deemed it safe and walked down to reveal a large underground room, with brick pillars supporting the house. I looked around, checking every corner for any hidden outlaws. I found none, much to my enjoyment. On the wall I noticed a bull skull, a large portion of the head missing. I looked at it curiously. What's it doin' down here? I walked over to scrutinise it closer when I suddenly noticed a small chest. My eyebrows shot up and I approached it, my hazel eyes scanning the room before I bent down to look. It was luckily unlocked and opened easily. My eyes widened and I had to stop a squeal of excitement. Oh my... more gold!