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"I do believe a flush beats a full house," Emma announced humbly as she tossed her cards into the center of the table. "Aww, damnit not again!" the men grumbled around her. They threw down their cards as she pulled their cash in her direction. Ruby laughed delightedly from her perch upon the lap of a scruffy and handsome man named Graham.
Good food, good whiskey, good company and now a bit of spare change until tomorrow she thought as the men slapped her back in dutiful congratulations on their way to the bar.
"Tell me Swan, is this all you do. Hunt outlaws?" Graham questioned.
"Well when ya say it like that…" she thought for a moment. "Yes sir, that's all I do."
"But it's mighty dangerous ain't it?" asked the working woman.
"Oh, ya mean what happened today?" she mused touching the back of her hand. "That's just part of the hazards of the job I suppose."
"But why?"
"Grew up trappin' and huntin'. Humans seem like the next best thing to animals. Well, that's not quite fair to the animals," she laughed. "But there's good money in it."
"Takes you all over the country side I'd imagine," the man said itching his beard and entertaining a distant thought.
"Never rest my head in the same county twice."
"Sounds like my kinda life! Another whiskey?" he asked friendly enough and moved out from under Ruby.
There was an odd silence at the table in his absence.
"Is that your motto or just a fact of the life?" the rented woman asked over her beer.
"Both. Neither. Never thought much about it. I'm just the wonderin' type I guess."
"Ain't never thought of settlin' down?"
"You mean bein' some man's wife?" she laughed as she flattened out the crumpled bills. "No, I've never had that particular desire," she looked up then and let her eyes travel slowly over the young woman's cleavage up to her painted eyes.
"Me neither," Ruby whispered back. "Seems we got a lot in common," she reached out and gently traced the side of the bounty hunters fist that held her winnings. "Care to discuss our similarities.. in private?"
Just then Graham returned from the bar balancing three shot glasses against one another. "Bottoms up gals!"
That was number six for Emma. Images of stumbling through the early morning streets with an empty bottle in one hand and her gun in the other wasn't at all unfamiliar, but considering the day she'd had, hell days she had, she was now well drunk on less than half a bottle.
"I do believe it's time I cash in for the night. What do you say sweetheart," Graham leered good-naturedly at Ruby.
"You're such a dawg." She took a playful swat at him. "Talking as if I were a poker chip you'd won when its clear Emma cleaned up tonight!"
"Well I don't suppose she's about to cash in," he joked while the two women shared a quick glance. "And I didn't lose all my cash honey!" he pulled out a wad.
"How could I possibly resist such an offer?!"
"You can't," grinned the handsome man and as he chuckled he lifted her straight up into the air. She held her shot glass high above her head in celebration, took a sip and wound her legs around his torso before laying a large smack on his thin lips. Then Ruby threw her head back and howled. He joined her and they laughed all the way to the back stairs. Stumbling as they went up, Ruby threw a last glance at the bounty hunter promising to continue their conversation at a later time.
Emma sighed for her part as she counted her winnings. Well there's always the next town and the next saloon she thought, knowing the supply of pretty women keen on enjoyin' a payin' woman's company wasn't as rare as people might think. And if that meant a bit more in her pocket tonight, hell, she was intent on enjoying the end to this damn treck one way or another so she happily sauntered up to the bar for another drink on Gold's tab.
It was close to midnight and Regina couldn't sleep a wink. She'd long since put Henry to bed. At dinner he'd rehashed every detail of the day. Most vivid was the retelling of the arrival of the Bounty Hunter on the edge of town, how he had stood up to the man in the dust, and how he'd done her a real service by brushing down her trusty steed – as if his mother hadn't been present . Ever the storyteller she humphed, just like her own father had been for whom Henry was named. Which was strange because the name was the only thing they shared being that Henry was adopted.
When the doctor informed her and her late husband of her barren womb she nearly cracked. Being a mother was one of the truest wishes she'd ever had in this life. After months of desperation she'd come to him one day in the stables with the idea that they might adopt a child. Now adoption was no small feat in these parts he tried to argue. But once Regina had her heart set on a thing there was no turning back and she visited the one man she knew could help her obtain her hearts desire. Mr. Gold in fact came up with a solution - child procurement as he called it. Unless she was willing to move to the first large city and wade through several months of bureaucracy for a formal adoption this was their best option.
She didn't want to know what it meant or who had to be involved. She came from a wealthy family, one of the first to settle this land and lay stake to the natural springs in the county which her father leveraged to the incoming miners and settlers. So with the money in hand and very few questions it was settled within just a few short weeks. She remembered the train ride, the further west towards the sea she'd ever been. The journey by horse for days and days after the last town. The imposing heat, the harsh landscape, the ache of her back from the long hours in the saddle and fear that the trail would never end. Then the startling smell of salt and eucalyptus. There in the wind a gray and infinitely old Ohlone man, one of the last of his people he'd said, greeted them on horseback with the bundle strapped snuggly to his chest. She was suddenly scared that after their long journey it would be clear from the look of the boy that he could never have been born of her, not that it had entered her mind until that moment and as soon as it occurred to her she put it right out again. She'd come so far it didn't matter what it looked like, just as long as it was breathing and alive and hers. But when the old man finally handed over the child she'd always remember the first sight of his light brown hair peeking up through the fabric. And as she parted the folds he woke slightly from his slumber and the most beautiful green eyes looked up into her own dark ones. And there with the vast thundering of waves at her back, her husband on one side and the ancient man on the other, mother and child recognized each other for the first time.
She wiped a single tear from her eye before if fell at the dinner table and assured herself for the thousandth time that Henry did not need to know of his origins. Origins she herself knew very little of. She watched as he cut into his pork chop with the cutlery skills of a gentleman and wiped his face clean around bites with the cloth. The way he tried so hard to speak eloquently for her sake and even looked up with those demanding eyes when it was clear she'd been thinking rather than listening. "Ma!" Oh yes, he was her son all right.
If only he spoke so excitedly about her these days.. Regina thought coming back to the present. She turned in bed and pulled the covers a bit closer despite the balmy night. Being an intelligent woman, she knew exactly why he retracted from her touch these days but what service was she doing him as a mother if she couldn't keep him safe? No, it wasn't just the horses she confessed to herself. She'd grown strict over the past few years. Her baby was growing up and there was nothing she could do to stop it, to keep him close as much as she tried. So she'd tried harder and now seemed to be failing miserably.
But she'd be damned if she didn't at least try to hang on as long as she could and if that meant doing things like keeping him safe and away from horses well that was her motherly prerogative. No, loosing him like she lost Daniel would crush the remainder of her heart. Without Henry her heart would have hardened and turned to stone but the little blacksmith forged it back together with his tender soul. She remembered him crawling into bed and curling up with her in those dark hours, stroking her hair through her sobs even though he was too young to truly comprehend her grief or the fact that his father was never to return.
Now how much harder would it be to keep him away from the stables after tonight's lesson? The thought of the blonde bounty hunter entered her mind again. "Swan, Emma Swan," she heard the slightly husky voice with a hint of honey say. This woman had better be on her way tomorrow, she couldn't stand sitting through another dinner listening to Henry praise the new town hero while she day by day seemed to play the villain in his waking fairytale.
That wasn't the only reason she hoped this Ms. Swan would move on before the full morning light. The strong thin frame and blonde curls entered her mind. She felt the electric charge that shot through her earlier when the woman backhanded the outlaw and she swore just for a moment she could make out the faint smell of lavender in her room. Stop being preposterous, she scolded herself shifting again in bed.
What bothered her most was the softness the stranger had shown her son that night, the concern for Regina's well-being in the street after she herself had been attacked, Emma's smiling eyes. Emma..? This made Regina bolt up in bed. Who the hell was this woman she thought angrily. She didn't quite understand how her anger was tied to the sting of loneliness that ached in her core like a belt lashing from childhood but it didn't matter. Anger was her go to emotion and she let it cool her reaction to the blonde. A reaction that honestly made very little sense to her brain at the midnight hour.
Pushing back the covers she moved to the window of their second story home and cast a glance through the sheer coverings to her apple tree. Her father had given it to her as a present as a child. He intended to teach her how the fruit might grow if tended properly - a sign of the reward of hard work. He would be proud she though at the sight of the crimson apples hanging in the moonlight. Though she wondered if he'd approve of the cider she'd begun to craft over the years with its fruit. Cider she often indulged in after Henry fell asleep to ease the sting and hardship of raising her son on her own.
She'd managed all these years after her husband had died by throwing herself into raising Henry. It wasn't fair on the boy she knew but he'd received a break only when she stepped up to fill her fathers post as Mayor in the wake of his passing. She was so good at it in fact the town officially voted her into office the next election cycle - all to her great surprise. She'd been in the post without question ever since.
So on the years went and she'd forced herself to put one foot in front of the other day by day because, well that's just what you do. She'd had to as a young girl when her mother had left them, she'd had to without Daniel and then again a few years later when her father passed on. Henry and the town were her soul reasons for getting out of bed most days. It wasn't that it was enough, it's just that it's what there was. For the most part she was content with the fullness of her busy life, but tonight staring at her tree the ache of the past returned and mixed queerly in the moon light with the image of the bounty hunter on a white horse. "Damn that woman," she huffed against the glass. "If she does decide to stay longer than a day I'll make sure she wished she'd never set foot in this town," and with a stern resolve she slipped back into bed for a restless night.