The muffled, drunken sobs could be heard all the way out from the street. She crept along the wooden floorboards towards him, her bare feet creating a soft padding noise that seemed to sound resonate loudly through the empty halls. She was unsure of what she would find, but the noise was unmistakable. She turned the corner into the living room, peeping her head around the door in a slow and careful manner, and there she saw him. Hunched over, elbows resting on knees, and head in hands, his body rising and falling in at an increasing pace, losing the battle against his pride, unable to keep inside the tears of despair. She froze in the doorway. Half of her ached to run over to him, to wrap her arms around him and console him, to let him hold her close and bury his face and his warm tears into hair. The other half wanted to turn and run, run as far and as quickly as she could, leave this painful scene behind her. She wasn't even breathing now, only staring as he man before her gave into his grief. He rose from his crouching position beside the window, grabbed the coffee table next to him and flipped it over, the glass scattering across the floor. He swayed for a moment, staring at the shattered pieces, before slumping down back against the windowsill. She watched as one of his legs outstretched, the bare fleshy underneath of his foot dangerously close to the glass fragments. Running to the cupboard, she grabbed a small sweeping brush, and began trying to collect the glass fragments into a pile in the corner, it was dark in the room, but the moonlight streaming in from the window made them glint, like pieces of forbidden treasure. She surveyed the floor now, it appeared as though most of the glass had been removed, and she began to approach him now. The leg that was not outstretched was bent upwards, his arms resting on it as his uncontrollable weeping made his whole body convulse. She was not near enough to touch him yet, but she could smell the stench of tequila on his breath, and as she edged towards him, the smell seemed to engulf her, to the point that it felt like it was begging to suffocate her. It was only then that he noticed her, or acknowledged her presence if he had seen her before, and he raised his head to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot, from both crying and alcohol, the watery streaks down his cheeks shinning in the pale silver light. Matted sections had formed in his beard, signalling to her that he had been crying on and off for some time before she had heard him. His pained expression quickly clouded over, and he threw a dark glare at her before turning his eyes away from her. He hated her to see him like this, she had realised this, she was the only one who saw him this way, the only one who ever saw him cry, and she could sense this angered him, possibly even made him resent her. She crawled up onto a chair in the darkest corner of the room, the one that allowed her to face him directly. He would fall asleep soon, slouched over in his favourite spot by that windowsill, and she would sleep in the chair, but only after she was sure he would be okay.
Amy woke with a start, her breath caught in a lump in her throat. She was covered in a light cold sweat, and though it was a warm night, she knew it was the dream that had caused it. She drew her legs into her body, wrapping her arms protectively around them, clutching her knees under her chin. She held this position for a moment, before quickly throwing the covers back and jumping out of the bed in disgust with herself. The protective stance she had allowed herself to form seconds ago, was the exact same one that she had formed on the old chair so many times watching him sleep of his drunken rage, she wouldn't permit herself to retreat into that position again. She wandered over to the window and stared down at the street, not really taking in the sight at all, but aiming to distract her mind from what it had just witnessed. It was no good; her body was still shaking from the images that had flooded through her dream. She opened the window a fraction, enough to allow fresh air to circulate around the room, but not too wide, as there was an unmistakable chill in the wind tonight. Although listening to the quietness that surrounded her, she sensed it was more likely to be the early hours in the morning. The shivered slightly, drawing the oversized man's under-shirt that had been part of the pile of old clothes that Nathan had donated to Amy upon her arrival, closer to her. She paced back over to the bed, and sat herself down gently. It had been a long time since she had let herself think about that house, that room, a very long time. She had not been prepared for the memories that had formed her dream this night, if anything she forced herself to try and forget, but all she could see now was her seven year old self, afraid to fall asleep in case her father hurt himself anymore in drunken anguish.
His legs were beginning to ache now. He had been riding for what felt like forever and as the familiar scenery of Four Corners sprang up around him, as he rocked instinctively with the rhythm of his horses' hooves. He could see a figure in the distance, alone in the dark street. He was too far away to make out who it could be, all he could ascertain for now was that the outline belonged to a woman, but he sensed something familiar about this silhouette that he couldn't quite place. As he continued to trot towards her, she also stepped towards him, her hips sashaying in a way that he knew he had seen before, but it wasn't until he was directly in front of her that the realisation of horror dawned on him. He could have identified those brown eyes anywhere, dark, emotionless, just staring straight at him. She cracked a conniving smile at him, flicking the brown curls on her face away from her eyes as she cackled with laughter, and turned, running away from him down the street, the hideous witchy laugh echoing around the deserted street. For a moment he sat there, dumbstruck at the image of Ella Gaines galloping away, before he snapped to him senses. Springing down from his horse, he sprinted after her. He was fast, much faster than Ella, and as he reached her, he grabbed at her arm to twist her around to face him. She attempted to pull away from his grasp, fighting his strong grip, which resulted in her falling to the ground in a cloud of dust.
"Get up!" he growled, in a voice so furious it was hard for him to even recognise it as his own. She slowly tipped her head up towards him, the manic smile still present on her face, but something wasn't right. Her eyes appeared to be a murky green shade now. That's impossible, he thought to himself, Been riding so long now I'm gettin' delirious! But as Ella stood up he noticed her eyes again, now a piercing light green. He took an unconscious step back from her in horror. The smile still remained on her face, spread so wide that there was an undeniable crazy looking aspect to it,
"I knew you'd miss me. Nothin' can keep us apart, you see it now." She raised her, and touched the back of it against his cheek, but before she could even attempt to stroke it he grabbed it, harder than he meant to as he heard an undeniable crunching sound. Ella didn't even wince at the noise, or the searing pain that he knew she must be feeling from a broken finger or two. Instead the eerie smile remained uninterrupted on her face, but before he could rely to her comment, he observed that her eyes were now a bright blue colour, changing right in front of his eyes. He threw her hand away in disgust, unable to hide his repulsion,
"What the hell are you?"
Her lips hardly moved, permanently glued into the hysterical smile,
"But Chris I'm everythin' you've ever wanted." He stood frozen to the spot in disbelief at what was happening as Ella paced backwards, still facing him, her eyes never leaving his horrified gaze, until she fell under a shadowed part of the street. Seconds later he two figures appeared from the darkness, and began walking towards him, exactly where Ella had been. Mary? Amy? The gunslinger stared in bewilderment as the two women stepped slowly towards him, synchronised in step and pace. They stopped shoulder to shoulder directly in front of him, and Chris instantly acknowledged in confusion the piercing light green shade of Mary's eyes, and Amy's bright blue eyes. Without a word they moved so that they were positioned one either side of him, Amy to his right, Mary on his left. They both spoke at the same time, perfectly synchronised,
"What is it that you really want Chris?" He recoiled at the unnatural sound of Ella's voice leaving their mouths,
"Who is it that you want?" He recoiled even more this time as it was Buck's voice that resonated from the lips of the women.
He woke sat bolt upright, with his Colt revolver in his hand pointing forwards in the darkness. Heart racing he glared around the room, scowling at the trick his mind was playing on him. Buck was still sound asleep across the other side of the room, muttering sweet nothings in his sleep to whichever woman he was seducing in his dreams. They had gotten the cheapest room they could find, which had resulted in them sharing for the night. Chris hadn't particularly minded that much, after all it was only for then night, though he had thrown a scowl or two at the raised eyebrows by the hotel clerk. He leaned his head back against the cool wooden wall, still sitting upright in his bed for the night. He had known coming back to this town would be hard, for both of them. He threw a sorrowful glance over at Buck as he swore he heard the moustached man whisper 'Hilda' ever so softly in his sleep. Chris redirected his gaze to the cracked ceiling in an attempt to give Buck some privacy, and swallowed the lump building up in his throat. He put it down to frustration, and tried to recollect his thoughts. Today hadn't gone as planned. They'd reached Red Forks as the evening had begun to settle in, and no one that they had questioned in town had seen or heard from Ella since the last time they had been around this area, or at least no one was willing to admit to it. Tomorrow he'd search every last part of her ranch, he didn't care if new owners lived there, or if it had been destroyed, she had to have left something behind her, some kind of clue. He banged his head gently against the wall behind him in a irritated manner, he hadn't come so far to fail, but part of him knew that Ella was too clever to have left a trail behind. A feeling of nausea gripped him as the realisation that he probably wouldn't hear from her until she wanted it to be that way struck him. The letter she had sent him flooded into his mind, and the photo she had attached to it, of the two of them at their engagement party. He shook his head, slowly at first, building up to a vigorous motion, trying to dispel the image of Ella's smiling face out of his thoughts. It had been a sham, all of it. He let out a deep sigh of self-pity, knowing that it would be a struggle for him to fall back asleep tonight, especially after that dream. Buck's words had obviously hit closer to home than even he had cared to admit, but the presence of Amy and Mary had been a surprise. Whether it was a pleasant one or not Chris was not sure of yet. It seemed like he was incapable of being able to make sense of anything these days. He closed his eyes, as the burning hot tears streamed down silently from his eyes.