The barn was old and empty, ancient stacks of hay pushed against the walls to make room in the middle for a makeshift stage standing a few feet off the ground. Upon the platform, a mismatch of men played their respective instruments excitedly. There was an eager fiddler, an enthusiastic guitarist, and even a man whistling into a jug, all of the sounds merging together into something fast-paced and melodious. Circling the band and their pedestal were young folk from both near and far, shunning the decorum of civilized social outings in favor of more scandalous behaviors. Couples danced closely in the firelight, bodies touching, mouths connecting without shame.
Daisy sat in one of many chairs along the edge of the excitement, near the free flowing kegs of whiskey. She tapped her feet to the music, her demeanor that of a chaperone rather than a participant. Within moments of arriving, Daisy had made it her mission to find somewhere to camp out for the night, preferably within the recesses of the shadows where the flickers of fire could not reach her face. She had promised Calvin that she would attend the dance with him, but she had made no vow towards participation or enjoyment. If anything, her sole pleasure lied in the candles along the walls and the way they slowly melted and pooled, gauging the falling hours. Surely Calvin will want to leave soon, Daisy thought to herself a few hours in, even as she spied her brother on the far side of the barn, dancing a sort of jig with a pretty brunette.
There came the pointed clearing of a throat from nearby, and Daisy turned to find Cap Hatfield looking down on her, his elbow resting lazily on one of the kegs. He smiled slowly, the expression pulling across his face in small inches. Daisy could not deny herself the pleasure of returning the smile, even if her own joy paled under the apparent brightness of Cap's. He shoved off of his perch and grabbed an empty chair, pulling it over to where Daisy was. His knees brushed hers as he sat.
"Evenin'," Cap greeted with a sigh, and Daisy nodded primly, her hands balling into fists in her lap. She knew that she must be ablaze under Cap's eyes, but she could not shake her bashfulness. Cap harbored some subtle and unspoken confidence that unnerved Daisy, as if he was assured of any outcome in his favor. Daisy thought that maybe she, too, had once held that sort of youthful aplomb, but the notion had been battered, if not entirely terminated, by Thornton's actions.
"How are you?" Cap asked, sensing Daisy's reluctance to speak. He leaned far back in his chair, sending the two front legs up off the filthy ground. He was all casual indifference, and Daisy was a giant ball of nerves.
"I'm fine," she replied meekly, meeting his gaze. Time stopped for a moment, the barn and all its sights and sounds falling away.
"You're doin' it again," Cap said quietly, letting the chair fall to the ground. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning into her presence. Daisy looked away, ashamed of her gawking.
"Doin' what?" she asked, her attention suddenly taken by the frantic affections of a young couple not 10 feet away. Cap followed the trajectory of Daisy's inquisitive observation, smiling to himself.
"You were lookin' me in the eye," he said, his full concentration returning to Daisy. She heard the amusement in his tone and slowly spun to find him repressing a smile. He was toying with Daisy, trying his best to make light of her mood. She could not help but smile, and the two laughed, the sounds escaping their mouths like quick and easy breaths. It was the first time that Daisy had truly smiled all night.
As suddenly as the joy had spread across Cap's face, it simmered again, until his visage was stony and serious. He spoke softly, near enough to Daisy for her to hear his quiet words. Without thought, she let her posture fall into him, so that their heads nearly touched.
"How you been?" Cap asked, and Daisy easily heard the implications in his voice. He was not asking after her chores, after her reading, after her family and their wellbeing. He wanted to know how she was coping with the Thornton ordeal, and whether or not she had shared the truth with other members of the McCoy family. He wanted to know how she was surviving, and if she needed anything from him. He wanted to know if she was OK, unharmed both mentally and physically. Daisy caught all of these silent utterances in Cap's concern, and her heart warmed to him, her face softening, her shoulders slumping in relief.
"I'm fine," Daisy whispered, a genuine affection crawling across her cheeks. Cap's eyes roamed her face, as if he were committing every inch to memory. Normal and fogged alike followed the high arch of her dark brows; the thick black lashes that rimmed eyes the clear and pristine green of emeralds; a pale nose, dotted in brown freckles; full lips, pink and soft as pillows. Cap leaned further into Daisy, feeling her quickened breath upon his face.
"Would you like to dance?" Cap asked, and Daisy greedily consumed the scent of him. He was earth and dirt and man, gathered together with smoke and fire and the faintest hint of whiskey. Not the sour tinge of whiskey that Daisy had smelled upon Thornton, but the warmth of it, the feel of it rolling down her throat to pool in her belly.
"Sure," she said, and she held out a small, white hand to Cap, who enveloped it in his own larger, darker one. Daisy felt every synapse pop and fizz, inching up her arm, bisecting into her head and stomach. She became lightheaded and dreamy, floating upon a cloud, as Cap guided her out onto the dance floor, the hay crunching beneath their feet.
The music had slowed, bodies swaying lazily around the two. Daisy had never danced with a boy, had never even thought of the mechanics of it, but Cap anticipated her worries. He draped her hand lightly over his shoulder, holding the other in his warm grip. Daisy's temperature rose as Cap slid his free hand down her side, letting it rest around her waist. The two stayed like that for some time, Cap several inches taller than Daisy's small frame, smiling down upon her. She met his gaze boldly but coyly, batting her eyelashes, filling the traditional structures of flirtation. Later, Daisy would not remember her instinct to perform a sort of mating ritual in front of Cap, for it did not seem to be a necessary facet of her levelheaded character. But in the moment, beside the burning fire, with the sweet whining of a fiddle, Daisy's nature would allow her nothing less than a desperate bid to possess this man.
"Imagine what our Pa's would say if they could see us now," the thought slipped absently from Daisy's mouth, and Cap chuckled, his eyes scanning the expanse of the barn.
"I reckon they wouldn't be too pleased," he replied. "But if I always listened to my Pa, I doubt I would have much fun in life." Daisy had to giggle at that, imagining the rules of her own pigheaded father. She hesitated, looking away from Cap, even as their bodies inched closer together. In certain turns, she could feel her chest press against his.
"How did you know, Cap?" she began, and Cap's eyes brightened. It was clear to both parties, then, that they had each assessed one another from afar, dispelling the need for proper introductions. "How did you know where Thornton and I was?" Cap's face fell with the mention of Thornton's name, and Daisy instantly regretted the question.
"I'd been watchin' you," he admitted. "And I'd been watchin' him, too. I saw the look on your face when you two walked off, and I knew that somethin' wasn't right."
"So you followed us?" Daisy prompted, and Cap nodded.
"I did," Cap looked away again, up and over Daisy's head. "I guess I should be ashamed to admit that, but I'm glad I followed you. I'd do it again if I had to." Without thinking, Daisy pulled her hand from Cap's shoulder and brought it to his cheek, pressing her palm against the stubble and hair that grew there. She dragged his head down to hers again, until his eyes, shocked and delighted, found hers.
"Thank you," she whispered, admiring the flicker of candlelight in Cap's milky eye, of the way the flames played off his golden hair. Daisy's hand slid down his face, over the column of his tanned neck, to rest upon his chest, her fingers lightly rubbing at the soft and worn fabric of his shirt. She felt his heart bounding forward to meet her touch.
"Daisy…" Cap's voice fell away, his hand around her waist pulling her closer to him until she was pressed against his entirety, safe inside the sphere of his reach.
Across the barn, a drunk let out an animal howl, and the music resumed its feverish pace. A raucous fight broke out in a corner, and folk nearby, liquored up, shouted their encouragement. On the darkened edges of the large room, couples became more animated in their ardor, men thrusting clumsy hands up under the skirts of their partners, finding the place that produced squeals of delight. The spell had been broken, Daisy and Cap thrust back into the harsh and sickly reality of the world around them. Cap took one last long look about the barn, his eyes settling on something in the direction of the brawl. He shook his head once, taking Daisy's hand in his.
"Come on," he said, guiding her towards the door. "Let's get some air."
X X X
Outside the world was quiet, the barn blazing with heat and life like a red dot on a blue map. The fresh air felt invigorating against Daisy's warm skin, breathing the sweet coolness of autumn back into her being. She and Cap walked in silence for a time, their hands tightly clasped, until they were far enough from the party to be free of the rowdy noise. Cap found a tree stump, a giant relic of an ancient beast, on the edge of a wooded area, and he sat upon it, gently pulling Daisy down beside him. Their hands fell to their sides, but their legs pressed closely together, as if there were little space on the enormous seat. A few last crickets chirped their tiny songs.
"I never was overly fond of fightin'," Cap said into the night, and Daisy stifled a laugh. He turned to her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "What?"
"Never fond of a fight?" she joked. "You're a Hatfield – you don't do nothin' but fight."
"Is that so, Daisy McCoy?" he retorted, and Daisy feigned a moment of hurt.
"I suppose we're both well trained in the matter," she admitted with a sigh.
"And really," Cap said, mischief dancing about his face. "What else is there to do?" Daisy had to openly chuckle at that, shoving her shoulder into Cap's.
"There's plenty to do, Cap Hatfield."
"Oh?" he replied, both eyebrows ascending his forehead. Daisy's face began to burn, and she looked away quickly.
"That's not what I meant," she clarified. "I mean, you can read, or write, or play an instrument, or sew, or take care of animals, or travel, or…anything really." A realization came to Daisy then, falling upon her like snow. As she listed the possibilities of life to Cap, she found that she was giving herself a piece of advice, too. There was always more to living than to quarrel one's days away.
"And what do you like to do, Daisy McCoy?" Cap asked, leaning all of his body weight into hers.
"I like to read," she answered matter-of-factly. "It gives me somewhere to go, somewhere beyond the place I'm at. I can be anything or anyone, and I don't have to live under our families and their damned feud."
Cap was quiet, and Daisy worried that she had offended him. But when she shifted in the dark to better see his expression, it was contemplative, his eyes locked, his mind turning over the ideas that Daisy had expressed.
"I reckon that's mighty nice," he said softly.
X X X
After a time in the fresh air, Daisy reluctantly admitted that she should return to the dance before Calvin was stricken with a bout of worry, and then after that, a bout of anger. Cap stood slowly, shaking out the pains of their long sit, and pulled Daisy up beside him, waiting for her to do the same. As they followed the sounds from the barn, they discussed Daisy's favorite books, ones of romance and adventure, and Cap continuously noted his admiration of her hobby, though he did not ask to borrow any volumes from her. Daisy wondered if Cap could read…
Around the curve of the woods, a figure stood waiting. As Cap and Daisy came before it, they stopped, standing stock still in the dark as if they hoped the threat would not sense their presence. It was tall, taller than Cap, rocking back and forth on its feet. As it inched nearer to them, Daisy deduced from the smell alone that it must be a walking keg of whiskey, somehow animated and escaped from the festivities. But as the cloud cover cleared, the pale moonlight unveiled a startling truth. Daisy's breath hitched in her throat, her heart plummeting into the very bottom of her stomach. Cap took a long stride forward, pushing Daisy back behind him with an outstretched arm.
"Evenin'," Thornton said with a smile.