Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! Like I said, I'm going on vacation this coming week, and I've just been reminded that our cabin doesn't have an internet connection. So this will probably be the last chapter I'll post until the following Monday or so. But I'm sure I'll be writing on my trip, and will hopefully have a few chapters done by the time I get home. Thanks for hanging in there with me!
Later, much later, Daisy would not recall all of the actions that had brought her to the place she was now. She would not remember Cap's frantic shouting, his insistence that they leave the scene. Nor would she recollect the solid assurance of his arms wrapped around her body as he dragged her, shaking and broken, to his horse hitched near the barn. She could not recount the feel of the animal beneath her as she and Cap rode hard into the night, her limbs like noodles, held in place by Cap's broad embrace. In fact, for many hours, Daisy could see nothing in her mind save the image of Thornton's angry eyes deadening as the life sunk from his face. He had crumbled atop Daisy, his weight crushing her, and she had stayed under his lifeless body for a few long seconds, taking the pain as retribution for her crime.
It was only as the sun grew over the horizon that Daisy shook from her stupor, the jostling of the horse suddenly an unbearable nuisance between her legs. The leather of the saddle bit into Daisy's thighs, and her entire rear end was numb from the journey's endurance. Slowly, she crept her arms down those of Cap's, who sat behind her, his chest flush with her back. She gently dug her nails into his hands, hoping he would comprehend her request. She didn't know if she was capable of speech, not now, maybe not ever. Daisy felt Cap press his lips against the back of her head, a confirmation of his understanding. He slowed the horse near a quiet creek, hidden deep in the forest where only the natives could find it.
Cap hopped down from the horse before it reached a complete stop. Turning towards the stilled animal, he gingerly wrapped his hands around Daisy's waist to lift her up and off of the saddle, placing her calmly on her feet. He did not meet her eyes. Instead, he lead the horse, who had been worked into a lather, to the stream, where it drank greedily from the water, its eyes wild with overexertion. Cap tied the reigns to a nearby tree, and then slowly spun to stare at a disheveled Daisy. His eyes were dark and accusing.
"Why did you do that?" Cap's question was barely audible, and Daisy thought that perhaps she had heard him wrong, had misinterpreted his icy tone. Her eyes were huge and ghostly, seeing little beyond the sight of Thornton's corpse. Her hair was tangled, full of leaves and twigs.
"Do what?" she whispered, anxiously ringing her hands. Cap was upon her in three long strides, his hands encircling her arms like bands of lead.
"Why did you have to kill him?" he demanded through clenched teeth. Daisy tried to shrink away from this person who stood before her, this man who could not be the same one from the night before.
The rage began to boil inside of Daisy like water set over the flames. All at once, Daisy's exhaustion fell over her like a shroud, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally, too. She had rode all night with Cap into a place entirely foreign to her. She had abandoned her dearest and most beloved brother, who must be worried sick. She had been attacked, battered and bruised and nearly raped by Thornton, not once, but now twice. And she was alone with a Hatfield who seemed to shift and alter like sunlight falling over the sea. Daisy was angry; angry at her mother, angry at her father, angry at Roseanna, angry at Johnse, angry at her cousin Nancy, angry at her brothers and her sisters, angry at Thornton, angry at Cap, and most of all, angry at herself.
"Are you outta your mind?" the words fell from Daisy clear and strong. She writhed about in frustration until Cap relinquished his grip. "What in the Hell are you talkin' about? He was goin' to kill me!"
"I was comin' to help you, Daisy!" Cap shouted into her face, his expression savage. She screwed up her own countenance into that of a tiny warrior, placing both hands on Cap's chest to shove him away from her.
"Comin' to help me?" Daisy retorted. "I thought you were half dead!"
"I was up on my feet! I was comin' towards you!"
"Well I didn't see you over Thornton tryin' to rape me!"
The two fell silent under the weight of Daisy's words, both panting in aggravation. Cap's chest rose and fell, his face slackening as he looked upon her. She was desperately attempting to stall the tears that built just below the surface of her strength. Daisy did not want Cap to believe that he possessed the power to injure her pride, and yet Cap was the only person she cared to cry to. She met his eyes, taking in the color and the white. He was the first to look away, his blond hair falling over his forehead as he studied the ground.
"I didn't want that for you, Daisy," he said to his chest. "I didn't want you to know what it was like to have to hurt someone." Daisy couldn't discern the genuineness in Cap's words. She remembered his face from only a minute ago, untamed and violent. Men always tell you what they think you want to hear.
"Then why did you throw that first punch?" she asked calmly, instantly regretting the question as Cap's head snapped up to glare at her. "Why didn't you just let it be?"
"And let him say those things to you?" he asked incredulously. Daisy shook her head.
"He's a fool, Cap! Who cares what he says?" Daisy knew that she did not entirely abide by the words of her own advice, but the reasoning felt valid to Cap's question.
"Is that all he did, Daisy?" Cap asked, his eyes mocking, his chin pulled forward in defiance. "Did he just talk you onto the ground?"
"He didn't do nothin' until you punched him!" Daisy shouted, the words sent forth before she could stall them. She had voiced her opinion now, the accusation hanging over Cap like a cloud.
"Well next time that happens, I'll be sure to let you take over!" Cap yelled back. The horse spooked at the ire in its owner's voice, but neither Cap nor Daisy were willing to concede to the other. Both faces were tired and worn, with bloodshot eyes and dirty cheeks. Four fists balled into frustration and disbelief, four feet planted stubbornly to the ground.
"You really are a Hatfield, ain't ya?" Daisy sneered. "You're as bad as that brother of yours!"
"Don't you say nothin' about Johnse." Cap held his hand up in warning. "You don't know nothin' about him."
"No? I know he knocked up my sister and left her to fend for herself!"
"That ain't the whole truth!" Cap stepped closer to Daisy, his height towering over hers. She did not diminish; she puffed up her chest, locking her gaze onto his. The shouting subsided from both parties, the volume replaced with quiet and heartfelt threats.
"I don't care what you say, Cap Hatfield, because you ain't no different than anyone in that damn family of yours."
"And you ain't nothin' but another goddamn McCoy. I thought you was a pretty thing, but I never intended to spend the rest of my life tryin' to save yours. You ain't nothin' but a pain in my side."
Daisy was wounded by Cap's words, the flower of her heart wilting beneath her armor. It seemed to Daisy that she made the same mistake with Cap that she had made with Thornton. She had thought him to be her knight rather than her villain, capable of salvation rather than persecution. But Daisy was learning, in what some would say the most difficult of ways, that people are not always as they seem.
"I am so sick of people – men – tryin' to tell me what I am!" She was screaming again, her tone passionate and heavy. She thrust her face within inches of Cap's. "I never asked to be your problem, Cap Hatfield, and I certainly never asked to be saved by you. As far as I'm concerned, this world would be a better fuckin' place if you and yours had never been!"
Cap had seethed during the argument, but Daisy saw her final words gentling his eyes. Something dark and unwholesome rolled off of him then, as if he had been possessed by the devil himself. His eyes darted between Daisy's.
"If you feel that way, Daisy," Cap said quietly. "Then you try makin' it in these woods by yourself."
"Gladly," Daisy replied.
She took one last look at Cap's face, trying to make sense of the vehemence he held there. Every angle revealed a new facet of his emotional composition: hurt, anger, confusion – all gleaming in the early morning light. Daisy committed the image of Cap to her memory as she turned on her heel and stomped off into the trees.