Chapter 3 - A Job Offer
Over the next week, Emma continued cooking at the Peletiers' inn. Though each afternoon and evening there was a crowd of ravenous men around the table, not a single one was interested in hiring Emma for work. The reverend was clear that Emma could stay with him as long as she needed to or wanted to, but she was ready to call it quits at the inn and get out of Scarlet Town. There was nothing for her there. The reverend and Amy had been gracious and kind, the Peletiers' had allowed Emma to use their inn as a platform to get work, and Clarke had come in nearly every night for supper and Emma's company...but it wasn't enough to keep Emma in Scarlet Town. She wanted a place of her own, a place she could take pride in and call hers. She wanted to be financially independent. She didn't want the reverend's charity, or anyone else's for that matter. So, Emma decided that she would take the next few days to get her affairs in order. If she was going to leave town, she would need food, water, and supplies.
Since Emma had been making dinner at the inn every night since arriving in town, Amy had started making supper early at home so that everyone could sit together and eat before Emma had to leave. Even though Emma had told Amy that wasn't necessary, Amy had continued making early dinners. That late afternoon, as Amy set the table and Emma cleaned in the parlor room, the door suddenly opened. Emma looked up from the pillows she had been fluffing to see Andrea walk in.
"Hello?" Andrea pulled off her shawl to hang on a peg by the front door. "Daddy? Amy?"
"I'm in the dining room." Amy replied loud enough for Andrea to hear.
Emma started into the foyer, catching Andrea's attention. Andrea's face fell.
"Hello, Emma." Andrea greeted her coolly, turning her head away from her.
"Andrea." Emma murmured in reply as she headed straight into the dining room.
Amy had the table set for three. Emma went to the hutch and opened the glass doors to pull out another place setting for Andrea. Since Emma had been staying with the reverend, Andrea had dropped by three times unannounced for supper. Emma knew it was because she just wanted to keep an eye on things while Emma was there. She didn't let Andrea bother her.
"Are you here for dinner?" Amy asked as she filled each glass at the table with milk.
"I am." Andrea replied as she untied her bonnet.
"Really, Andrea, I wish you would call on us earlier if you plan on coming to dinner." Amy scolded her older sister gently. "It isn't polite to intrude like this."
"Intrude?" Andrea gave a dry laugh. "Amy, this is my home, too."
"I know." Amy said quickly, meaning no offense by what she had said previously. "I just want to make sure the table is set properly and that we have enough food to go around."
"I'm sure there's plenty." Andrea gave her sister a sweet smile. "Now, can I help you with anything?"
"Everything is done." Amy set the milk bottle down on the table. "I'll bring supper out. Have a seat."
Amy disappeared into the kitchen.
"I'll go and get your father." Emma muttered, taking a step back from the table.
"Sit." Andrea pointed to a chair, narrowing her eyes at Emma as she circled the table. "I'll go and get my father."
Emma rolled her eyes, shook her head, and smiled to herself. With a sigh, she took a seat at the table. In her mind, she imagined a small farm far away from any other farms or towns. She saw rolling fields surrounded by a fence, a barn, a small house. It would be nice and quiet.
"...but isn't it just ridiculous, Daddy?" Andrea was asking as she and the reverend entered the dining room.
"Andrea, if the Grimes' want to continue having the fall gathering at their home, that isn't any concern of yours." Reverend Horvath gave his daughter a paternal look. "You shouldn't worry yourself with other people's matters."
Andrea folded her arms over her chest and began to pout.
"Emma, what are you planning on making tonight at the inn?" The reverend changed the subject, turning towards Emma with a smile.
"I'm not sure yet." Emma replied.
"Well, from what I hear around town, the men here are quite taken with your cooking." Reverend Horvath folded his napkin across his lap.
"It's nice of you to say." Emma murmured.
Andrea grumbled something as she stared out the window.
"What was that, dear?" The reverend asked, turning towards his daughter.
"What?" Andrea turned her head to look at her father. "Oh, nothing, Daddy."
Emma caught herself before she could smirk, and instead wiped a hand across her mouth before she folded her own napkin across her lap.
"Is something funny, Emma?" Andrea asked sharply.
Before Emma could answer, the door to the kitchen opened. Amy appeared with supper.
"This looks delicious, Amy." The reverend looked up at his youngest daughter with great affection.
"Thanks, Pa." Amy replied with a smile as she took her seat.
The reverend reached his hands out towards Emma, on his left, and Amy, on his right. Emma reached across the table for Andrea's hand. Emma caught Andrea's quick eyeroll before she accepted Emma's hand. Emma shook her head and looked down at her lap as the reverend said grace. When he was finished, Andrea practically shoved Emma's hand out of hers.
"Now, what were you saying before, Andrea?" Reverend Horvath asked, carving into the roasted chicken.
"Before...?" Andrea quirked an eyebrow in confusion, but then her features smoothed out when she suddenly remembered what her father was referring to. "It was nothing."
"Yes." Emma suddenly spoke up as Amy passed the green beans across the table to her.
"Sorry, Emma?" The reverend turned his head to Emma.
"I was speaking to Andrea." Emma plated her green beans, her eyes on her plate. "More specifically, I was answering the question she mumbled to herself a few moments ago."
"Excuse me?" Andrea asked, slamming a roll down on her plate.
"Andrea, please." Amy piped up quietly, her eyes darting back and forth between Emma and her older sister.
"I didn't hear Andrea ask a question." The reverend looked at Andrea. "Did you ask Emma a question, dear?"
Andrea clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes across the table at Emma, who was still slowly helping herself to the green beans. She continued glaring at Emma until she finished with the green beans, set them down in the center of the table, and calmly looked up to meet Andrea's fiery gaze.
"Did I hear you wrong, Andrea, or did you ask if my cooking was all the men in town were taken with?" Emma asked, folding her hands under her chin.
Amy gasped and her father put down the knife he had been carving the chicken with.
"Andrea Marie, did you ask such a thing?" The reverend asked.
Andrea didn't answer her father right away. She held Emma's gaze, silently seething until she finally decided to answer her father's question. She turned her head towards him, but her expression didn't soften in the slightest. The reverend seemed surprised by the anger on his daughter's face. He lifted his eyebrows as he waited for her to speak.
"This is a respectable home. You are a well respected man." Andrea glanced momentarily at Emma before looking back at her father. "There has been talk in town that Mr. Dunlap and Emma have been spending time together at night, at the inn's bar, unchaperoned."
Reverend Horvath sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Amy tried to comfort him in some way by placing her hand on his. The reverend allowed his youngest daughter to wrap her fingers around his. After several moments of silence, Reverend Horvath opened his eyes to look at Emma.
"I apologize for my daughter's behavior."
"Daddy, she is living under your roof-"
"Andrea, I will worry about what goes on and who is under my roof." The reverend interrupted sternly, giving Andrea a severe look. "Emma is my guest and I will not have you making her feel unwelcome. I will not stand for you being ugly and disrespectful to her."
"Disrespectful?!" Andrea cried, lowering her voice when Reverend Horvath narrowed his eyes in her direction. "Isn't it disrespectful of this...this wandering...spinnster to disgrace your good name, and all for the attention of a simple clerk?"
"Andrea, that is enough-"
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Reverend." Emma's voice was sharp when she finally cut in on the reverend's and Andrea's bickering. "You can say what you want to about me, Andrea, but leave Clarke out of this. He is a decent man who has only offered his friendship to me since I have come to stay in town."
Andrea slammed her hand down on the table, causing a tearful Amy to jump out of her skin beside her.
"I will say what I want to about who I want to!" Andrea exclaimed angrily.
Reverend Horvath suddenly stood from the table, his napkin falling out of his lap and onto the floor.
"That is enough." The reverend looked at his oldest daughter with shame in his eyes. "I raised you better than to speak to others this way. You have embarrassed yourself, your sister, and me."
Andrea looked away from her father.
"Emma, I apologize once more for my daughter's behavior." The reverend shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at the table. "Andrea, I think it is best if you returned home for the evening. You should reflect on your words and on the inner workings of your heart."
Andrea suddenly looked back at her father, startled by his words. Her mouth was agape, her eyes opened just as wide. She looked as though she had just been slapped across the face. It took her several moments to recover, but when she did, it was hard to tell that she had ever been so upset to begin with. Calmly and silently, Andrea got up from her chair. She laid her napkin gently on top of her plate. As she passed her sister's chair, she laid a hand on her shoulder. It glided across to the other shoulder as Andrea walked behind Amy. When she came to her father, Andrea pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then, without a word being spoken, Andrea headed out to the foyer. She barely made a sound as she collected her things and walked out the front door.
It was silent for a minute or two, except for Amy's sniffling, until the reverend finally spoke. Before he did, he put a finger under his youngest daughter's chin. He gently tilted her face up to look down at her. He smiled.
"Well, shall we have our dinner?"
0o0o0
Andrea didn't show her face the next day. Emma overheard the reverend telling Amy that her sister would come around when she was ready to.
Emma headed to the inn that afternoon early. The kindling had been low the night before, and knowing Ed, Emma knew she would have to chop more if she was going to get anything done for lunch. As she chopped wood, she saw a man standing across the street watching her. At first, she paid him no mind. She continued chopping, ignoring the man's gaze. It wasn't until she paused to wipe the sweat from her brow that she noticed the same man was still watching her, still standing across the street in the same place she had seen him standing before. Emma stood up tall, swinging the axe up and over her shoulder. She stared across the street at the man, meeting his eyes so that he knew she was aware of him and his gaze over her. The man didn't break her gaze, in fact, Emma thought she saw him crack a smile. Emma didn't have time to play games. She swung the axe down into a stump at her side so that she could collect the wood she had chopped. She gathered it into her arms and carried it inside without a second glance in the man's direction.
While she was inside preparing for lunch and cooking it up, Emma forgot about the man across the street. She prepared a stew to the sounds of men collecting just outside to eat her meal. When it was ready, Emma carried the pot out to the table. Clarke wasn't there, but there were many regulars that had been coming in since Emma had started cooking meals for the Peletiers'. As Emma circled the table, ladling stew into the empty bowls, she met the eyes of the man who had been watching her outside before. She studied him up close as she served the stew to the men around him. He had a scraggly beard and hair that might have once been curly in his younger years. Now, it was thinning and starting to gray. His face was worn and creased, but his gray-blue eyes were big and bright in contrast to the lines crisscrossing his skin. As Emma looked him over, the strange man met her eyes for the second time that day.
"Emma!" One of the men at the table suddenly shouted.
Emma looked down to see that she had ladled stew into one of the men's laps.
"Oh, Harry!" Emma cried, surprised and somewhat embarrassed. "I am so sorry."
Emma handed the pot of stew off to a ready set of hands so that she could remove her apron to clean up the mess. Luckily, everyone at the table, including Harry, was laughing.
"Don't worry about it, Emma." Harry shooed Emma's hands away as she tried to clean him up. "I can go on home and change after I eat. Could I maybe get more of this in my bowl, though?"
"Of course." Emma hurriedly ladled more stew into Harry's bowl.
Emma went to take the pot back, then realized it was the strange man who had taken it from her to begin with. She pulled the pot out of his hands roughly, but she ladled stew into his bowl. The man chuckled. Emma figured she had done something to amuse him. She guessed it was her embarrassing moment from before. Emma was about to move on, when the strange man finally spoke to her.
"Smells good." The man spoke with a raspy, somewhat whistley voice.
Emma looked back over her shoulder to meet his eyes, but the man was looking around the table for something.
"Where's the ketchup in this place?" The strange man asked.
"Take my word for it, fella, you don't need no ketchup." One of the men spoke in between bites of stew. "Emma's cooking is good without it."
Emma moved on to the next man, but she looked back to see what the strange man did. He took a bite of stew, then closed his eyes for several moments. When he opened his eyes, the strange man dug into his food without another word about ketchup or anything else, for that matter. Emma chalked the man's behavior up to curiosity and decided not to think about him anymore. She finished serving the men before she returned to the kitchen to clean up after herself. Once the kitchen was nearly finished, she collected the dishes she had dirtied in the basin she would use to wash them in. The pump outside was rusty, but it still worked just fine. Emma set the basin beneath the pump and began to fill it with water.
"Hey there." The raspy voice startled Emma, who had gotten lost in her washing.
Emma looked up to see the strange man leaning against the fence, on the opposite side. She returned to washing the dishes.
"What do you want?" Emma asked, scrubbing away.
"You sure aren't friendly, are you?" The strange man chuckled just like before. "Not that I mind. I'm not in the business of making friends, myself."
"You don't say." Emma mumbled.
"Word is that you got this gig here at the inn to show off your stuff." The strange man leaned forward. "You interested in work?"
Emma lifted her head.
"I see I got your attention." The strange man leaned back. "Come here a minute."
Emma dried her hands on her apron as she slowly met the man at the fence. She kept a few feet of space between them, even though a fence separated them. The strange man was once again visibly amused by Emma's behavior.
"You had better not be wasting my time, sir." Emma warned the strange man, folding her arms over her chest. "You have my attention. What is it you want?"
"I'm Merle Dixon." The man introduced himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I own some property up in the mountains, a few hours ride from town. I live there with my little brother and a farmhand, Sam Graysmith. I come to town about once every couple of months for business and supplies."
Merle set one hand on the fence.
"I've been looking for another farmhand for a while now, but just anyone won't do. I need someone who'll get their hands dirty, someone who ain't afraid of hard work. I was passing by when I saw you chopping wood." Merle grinned. "I ain't never seen a woman working with her hands outside the kitchen before. It took old Merle by surprise."
"Is this conversation leading somewhere, Mr. Dixon?" Emma asked, her gaze falling over the street before flickering back to Merle.
"Hold your horses. I'm getting there." Merle held his hands up, pumping them back and forth. "Now, when I saw you go into the inn, I just had to see what you were doing in there. That's when I heard about your cooking. I decided to have a taste to see if it was worthwhile."
Merle patted what was beginning to take the shape of a potbelly.
"You cook real good, girl."
"Thank you." Emma replied impatiently.
"So..." Merle waved his hands. "What do you think?"
"What do I think about what, Mr. Dixon?" Emma asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"How about coming back with old Merle as my new farmhand and cook?" Merle asked.
The creases in Emma's forehead didn't dissipate even though Merle had explained himself. She had been waiting for someone to offer her a job, but now that the moment had come, Emma felt torn. Merle Dixon was a stranger. Emma wondered if it would be foolish to take a job with him without knowing anything about him or his supposed property in the mountains.
"Tell me about your property, Mr. Dixon." Emma finally said.
"I got me a few acres." Merle replied, leaning on the fence. "I got a house of my own. So does my brother. I got a barn. That's where we keep the animals. There's a creek running along the back of the property. We got vegetables, too."
"What sorts of animals do you have?"
"I got horses, a couple of cows, some sheep, some chickens."
"What sort of work would you want me to do around the property?"
"You'd be helping with the animals, feeding them, grooming them, and such...tending the vegetables...you interested or not, girl?" Merle asked, his hand on his hip.
0o0o0
"Dixon?" The reverend asked, visibly and audibly taken aback. "Dixon, you say, Emma?"
"Yes, sir." Emma replied with a nod, her hands folded in front of her.
"Emma, I..." The reverend rubbed his forehead. "Did Hershel ever mention the Dixons'?"
"I can't say that he did, Reverend."
"Well, I must tell you, they're not regarded with much respect around town." Reverend Horvath moved one hand into his pocket. "Merle comes to town every few months and has been known to drink to excess, start fights, and make...passes out our young ladies. The younger one hardly ever shows his face, but when he does, he gets involved in his older brother's brawls."
Emma unfolded her hands and let her arms fall to her sides.
"I know you're telling me these things because you're looking out for me. I appreciate that, but I've already made my decision." Emma pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "Merle wants to leave town within the hour. I intend on leaving with him."
The reverend sighed, but he almost immediately smiled.
"Amy and I will be sorry to see you go, but I'm glad that you found what you were looking for."
Reverend Horvath held his hand out to Emma, a smile still on his face. Emma accepted his handshake firmly. She knew that the reverend wouldn't take her leaving personally, even though he wasn't particularly fond of whom she was leaving with.
"Well," the reverend sighed as he released her hand, "I suppose you'll be wanting to let Mr. Dunlap know of your plans to leave town. While you're out, I'll break the news to my Amy. She'll have time to get used to the idea before you return."
With everything that had happened that day, Emma hadn't even thought of Clarke. The reverend saw the sudden realization cross her features and he paused.
"You are going to tell young Clarke that you plan to leave, aren't you?"
"I hadn't thought about it, but now that I have, I guess I should." Emma murmured, glancing up the stairs at Skipper, who was snoozing on the landing.
"You really should." The reverend agreed with a nod. "I believe the young man was working up the courage to ask if he could court you, seeing as how he wouldn't be able to ask your late father's permission."
Emma suddenly felt uncomfortable. After spending time with Clarke, she could tell that he wanted to court her, even though no one had ever been interested before. It was his nervousness around her, the way he stumbled over his words and tinkered with his eyeglasses when Emma caught him looking at her for too long. Clarke was a fine man, but Emma still wasn't interested in seeking a husband, especially not after Merle's job offer. Emma was going to get her chance at independence. She just had to continue working hard and it would be hers.
"I should be going, then." Emma took a step backwards towards the door. "I still have to return here to pack up my things."
"I'll have Amy get things started for you." Reverend Horvath said after Emma as she turned and opened the door to go out.
Emma went out into the street. One night when Clarke had walked Emma from the inn to the reverend's home, he had pointed out the office he lived above. Emma headed in that direction. When she came to the building, she could see Clarke above in his home. He looked as though he were seated in front of a desk. He was hunched over, studying something in front of him. The window was open.
"Clarke!" Emma called out to him, waving her hand to get his attention.
Clarke looked up, confused, but his expression relaxed when he saw Emma in the street. He got up so quickly from his desk that he hit his head on a plant hanging overhead. Emma stifled a chuckle as Clarke rubbed his head with a sheepish smile. He ducked his head out the window to look down at Emma.
"What brings you here, Emma?" Clarke asked, his hands on the windowsill.
"Could you come down?" Emma asked. "I have something to tell you."
Clarke quirked an eyebrow, but Emma said no more.
"I'll be down in a minute." Clarke replied, ducking back inside.
Emma could see Clarke looking at a wall as he straightened his shirt collar and combed his fingers through his greased hair. She realized he must have been standing in front of a mirror. Emma looked down at herself, still in the clothes she had worn to work at the inn. The front of her skirt was streaked with food and dirt from where Emma had missed her apron and rubbed her soiled hands on herself. Her blouse was wrinkled significantly. She could only imagine how her hair looked, probably tumbling out of its knot. She felt a twinge of guilt as she watched Clarke make himself presentable for her. It hadn't occurred to Emma to do the same. Standing in the street waiting for him, she wouldn't have changed if she could suddenly go back in time. It didn't matter to her that she was dirty and smelled of grease and soot. She dismissed that flicker of guilt as she looked back up from her soiled clothes.
Clarke opened the door and came out to Emma with a smile.
"So, what is it that you have to tell me?" Clarke asked, suddenly taking a step back and motioning to a bench just outside the door. "Should we sit?"
"No." Emma shook her head. "No, this won't take long."
Clarke furrowed his brow when Emma answered him.
"I've been given a job." Emma said, folding her hands in front of her. "Merle Dixon offered me a position as a farmhand and cook on his farm in the mountains. I accepted."
Emma could tell that Clarke had tried hard to keep his face from falling entirely, but he was unable to disguise his expression in full. The corners of his mouth drooped, but did not commit to a full blown frown. His brown had softened, but his eyes were not shining as they had before.
"I see." Clarke cleared his throat and gave an attempt at a smile as he removed his glasses to clean them with his handkerchief. "Well, when do you leave?"
"Within the hour." Emma replied. "I'm meeting Mr. Dixon in front of the general store as soon as my things are packed and my carriage is ready."
Clarke lifted his head when Emma said she would be leaving within the hour. When he met Emma's eyes, he quickly lowered his back to his glasses. When they were cleaned twice, Clarke put his hanky away and returned his glasses to his face.
"I have to admit that selfishly, I'm disappointed," Clarke took a step forward, "but I am glad for you to have finally found a job."
Clarke lifted a quivering hand. Emma watched as he hesitated with where to put it. He finally settled on laying his hand on top of Emma's folded ones. His palm was beginning to perspire against Emma's skin. She looked up from their hands to Clarke's face, and surprised herself by feeling that wave of guilt come crashing over her when she saw that he was smiling at her. She knew she was hurting him by leaving, but it didn't sway her decision. However, she did wish she could have somehow prevented Clarke from being hurt. He had been very kind to Emma since their first meeting, as rude as she had been in the beginning. It had never been Emma's intention to cause Clarke any sort of pain.
"Thank you, Clarke." Emma murmured, letting his hand remain over hers for a few moments more before she pulled back from him. "Now, I should be going. I still have things to do before I leave town."
"Emma." Clarke said as Emma started to turn.
"Yes?"
"Dixon comes into town every once in a while for supplies and such." Clarke looked down at his feet for a minute before he continued. "If you should ever accompany him...would you call on me? I would like to see you..."
"Of course." Emma nodded. "That would be no trouble at all."
Clarke smiled once again at Emma, his eyes still sad behind his glasses. He watched her as she crossed the street to head back to the reverend's house. She walked confidently alone through the streets, and Clarke knew for sure that she would be unaffected by being without him tagging along after her as he had done all week. Emma wouldn't miss Clarke the way he would miss her. The way her blonde waves became curlier when she worked hard, the way her face and her clothes got just as dirty as apron, the color of her eyes...
0o0o0
Amy had all of Emma's things packed up by the time she returned to the reverend's house. Emma figured he had spoken with Amy while Emma had been gone, because Amy seemed even more cheerful than usual. Emma guessed that the reverend had asked Amy not to do anything to make Emma feel bad for leaving. As Emma watched Amy stroke Skipper, who was laying at the foot of the bed Emma had been sleeping in, she felt that wave of guilt sweep over her again. Emma was growing tired of it. The sooner she left town, the better off she would be. She shouldn't feel responsible for the happiness of these people. It was too much work. If that was what having a husband and children entailed, Emma knew she was better off without them. She packed up her things into the carriage while the reverend, ignoring Emma's insistence that it was unnecessary, hitched Nelly up to the carriage.
"I would like to come with you to the store." The reverend said as Emma finished up. "I'm not your father, but I feel responsible for you all the same. I would like to see you off."
"You don't have to do that, Reverend." Emma replied, leaning against the carriage.
"I know." Reverend Horvath smiled.
"Can I come too?"
Emma turned around to see Amy standing in the open doorway, Skipper in her arms. As Emma looked up at Amy on the top step, she couldn't deny her the opportunity to say goodbye. So, Emma walked with Amy in the street while the reverend drove the carriage with Skipper at his side. Amy surprised Emma by reaching for her hand. Emma looked down at their hands clasped together, then back up at Amy. She could see Amy trying not to look upset. Emma tightened her fingers around Amy's small hand.
As they came upon the general store, Emma immediately saw Merle standing on the store porch. He was talking to a man, but Emma could only see his back. As they got closer, Emma had just recognized the man to be Clarke when Merle suddenly shoved him with enough force to send him down. Clarke's eyeglasses flew off of his face.
"Hey!" Emma shouted, releasing Amy's hand to run up onto the porch ahead of her and the reverend. "What the hell is going on here?"
"This your man, Emma?" Merle asked, leaning against a pillar.
Clarke was searching carefully for his glasses on all fours. Emma spotted them a few feet away from where he was currently looking. She quickly snatched them up before Clarke could accidentally break them, or Merle purposefully crushed them beneath his foot. When Emma had the eyeglasses safely in her hand, she reached down for Clarke's arm and hoisted him to his feet.
"I take that as a yes, then?" Merle chuckled.
"He is not my man." Emma snapped, shoving the eyeglasses into Clarke's hand. "I have no man, not that it's any of your business. Now, what the hell was that about?"
Merle shook his head and continued to chuckle. By that time, the reverend had come up onto the porch. Emma was so focused on Merle that she didn't notice Clarke had put his eyeglasses on and started walking away. The reverend had stopped him. They were talking quietly off to the side. Merle leaned away from the pillar.
"That boy came up to me while I was waiting for you, said he cared about you and he wanted me to promise him I'd take real good care of you." Merle started chuckling again, just as he had stopped.
"So you shoved him?" Emma asked incredulously.
"I told the little guy to piss off, told him to mind his own damn business." Merle corrected Emma. "He said he wasn't leaving 'til I promised. Then I shoved him."
"So you shoved him?" Emma repeated her previous question, even more bewildered than before.
"Look, Emma, I ain't got time to stand around and talk about this nonsense anymore." Merle held his hands out. "I got to be going back to the farm. I'm leaving now. Are you coming, or are you going to stay here with your man?"
Emma looked over her shoulder at the reverend and Clarke. They had finished their conversation and were gazing back at Emma with eyes that screamed, 'don't go'. Amy was standing next to the carriage, her hand on Skipper's head. Emma remembered that she wasn't responsible for their happiness, and turned back to Merle.
"I'm coming with you, but don't you ever pull anything like that again." Emma narrowed her eyes at Merle to let him know she meant business.
Merle's lips pulled up into an amused smirk, revealing some of his teeth.
"All right, girl." Merle winked at Emma. "You got it."
Merle headed to his own carriage, full of provisions and other odds and ends. His carriage was being drawn by two, large chestnut brown horses. He stood by his carriage, waiting for Emma to climb up into hers. He spit brown spit down on the white porch.
"Emma-"
"I haven't changed my mind." Emma interrupted Clarke before he could protest.
The reverend opened his mouth, but Emma's look closed his lips.
"Will you let me pray over you and your carriage, Emma, for safe travels?" The reverend asked as Emma went to her carriage.
Emma nodded over her shoulder before she climbed up into the seat, Amy's hands unnecessarily guiding her up.
The reverend held his hand up, his eyes closed. Clarke and Amy bowed their heads in reverence. Amy folded her hands in prayer. Merle rolled his eyes from where he stood and spit once again onto the white porch.
"Father, we ask that you watch over Emma on her journey through the mountains. Guide her safely to her destination. Father, we also ask that you continue to keep watch over Emma as she begins employment at the Dixon farm."
"Amen." Clarke and Amy murmured.
"Let's go!" Merle called out from his carriage as he climbed up into it.
Emma glared ahead at the back of Merle's carriage.
"Goodbye, Emma." Amy reached up and gently pet Emma's wrist. "Take good care of Skipper."
"I will, Amy." Emma promised with a forced smile.
"Remember, Emma, there is always a place for you here in Scarlet Town." The reverend reminded Emma as she lifted the reigns.
Emma clicked to Nelly, and the old horse knew it was time to go. She started off after Merle's carriage in the direction of the mountains in the distance. As Emma rode out of town, she didn't look back. She didn't need to. Scarlet Town had never been her home.