Chapter 15: Harlan County

Raylan always felt a twinge when he crossed the invisible line into Harlan County. He didn't need to see the boundary to know that he was there. Even with Arlo dead, the place had a certain feel to it. He supposed it always would.

"Where do you think he'd take her?" Rachel asked. She balanced her cell phone on her thigh as she looked across the landscape.

For a moment, their gazes locked. Raylan saw the tension crinkling the corners of her eyes. He squeezed her hand. "We could try my place, but he's smarter than that."

"Do you think he knows the county well enough to hide her anywhere else?" she asked.

He shrugged. "He's been here as much as you have. Maybe more. Where would you go?"

"First, I'm not sure I'd come here—"

"Ouch," he murmured.

She bit back a smile. "Second, the place is loaded with criminals who aren't too thrilled with our presence."

"You think?" He rubbed his chin. "Hmm… That gives me an idea."

"Should I be worried?"

Raylan braked at the first stop sign in town. "You can trust me."

"Who said anything about trust?" She patted her cell phone. "I'm surprised he hasn't contacted either of us. Speaking of trust, Tim knows we're there for him. Aside from whatever cock battle you two have going on—"

"Cock battle?"

Rachel refused to be deterred. "You know what I'm talking about. The office isn't a black hole. My desk is beside yours. I see you and Tim."

He grinned. "How long have you been eyeballing me?"

"Shut up, Raylan."

He laughed.

Even before noon, the traffic was limited. Raylan wondered where everyone bided their time now that the coal mines weren't the big employer they used to be and Mags Bennett made her killer deal with the big-time mining company. He glanced again at Rachel and wondered what she thought of his hometown and by extension, him. She had grown up in the big city. Things might have been different in Hendersonville. In Harlan County, ignorant assholes came out in full force when they saw her pretty face and dark skin. She handled it well. Most of the time he wanted to kick ass, but he held the urge in check.

"I don't think he'd go to Crowder's," she said. "That's more your thing than his—"

"Hey!"

She laughed. "Just making sure you're paying attention."

"I'm listening," He headed to the Givens property. The acres were out of the way and would give him a minute to figure things out if Tim hadn't taken Darla there. "If you're done insulting me, keep going."

"That wasn't an insult."

"From my end it was." He guided the Lincoln past trailer parks and lonely neighborhoods. Finally, the road led them to the outskirts of the county. The familiar rise of the hill loomed ahead. He heard Rachel's surprise gasp. He glanced at her to find her eyes wide and staring at him. A faint smile curved her mouth. "Just a detour," he said.

"Right," she murmured.

Raylan parked near the trailer. Rachel exited the passenger side before he could open the door for her. Together, they strode up the steps and she waited quietly while he unlocked the front door.

Not much had changed since he was last there. The holes in the walls were patched. Constable Bob's blood had been mopped up long ago. The screen door slammed shut behind them and he followed her into the living room.

"So, are we waiting for him to contact us or what?" she asked from the window.

Raylan watched her. All nonsense and capable. The beautiful, smart US Marshal who burst into flames in his arms. Tim and the witness were on his mind, but seeing Rachel there at the window made other thoughts take prominence. He wanted her. He ached for her all the time. Kissing, holding, and tasting her only made it worst. He set the Stetson on the table and went toward her.

"We can't start anything," she said, backing away from him.

"I hadn't said a word."

"You don't have to." The wall behind her and him in front boxed her in. She braced her hands against his chest. "Raylan. No."

"No?"

"Not now," she said. "We have to find them."

He covered her hands with his. "I know that."

"Art will kill you—"

He grinned. "I'm not scared of Art."

"Be scared of me," she said, her expression serious. "Respect me."

He frowned. "You know I do."

"Then back off," she said, "for now."

Raylan nodded and stepped back. "Fine. For now."

R&R

Darla had been scared before, but not like this. The Marshals' discussion about Tim and then the sudden escape made her freeze. She trusted Tim. From first sight, she recognized something in him that made her feel safe and she had to rely on that instinct. Since the explosion and losing Nik and everything else that mattered, her gut was all she had left.

She followed his directions to Harlan County and was thankful that he had given them before he passed out again. As she neared the bridge, two armed men stepped out just as he told her they would. She braked and waited for Tim to rouse. He didn't move or make a sound. The men came closer and she grabbed the gun from Tim's lap and palmed it. By the time they reached the SUV, she had the window rolled down and had taken several deep breaths to calm her nerves.

"Yeah?" The taller black man with the shotgun stared hard. His companion waited further back but his attention to the passenger side was obvious. "What's your business?"

"We've come for help," she said, her voice strong and steady.

"We?"

"Me and my…friend," Darla answered. "He's hurt. He said we could find help here."

"Who is we?" the man asked.

"Um…"

"Tell him," Tim said, weak and hoarse. "Tell him what I told you. It's okay."

"We need to speak with Mr. Limehouse," she said. "Mr. Ellstin Limehouse is the one we talk to. He's the one who can help us."

The two men looked at each other, as if conferring. Tim reached out and took Darla's hand.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Give me the gun."

"They'll hurt you."

"Not worse than I'm hurting now," he said. "Limehouse knows me. He may not like me, but he knows me. He won't hurt you."

"You don't know that." She watched the men as they moved to talk. One of them took out his cell phone. She gave Tim the gun and placed her hand on the ignition. "You said Raylan has a house here. We can go there. You can get some rest—"

"First place they'll look. No one will look here."

"What about Rachel and Raylan?"

"They're coming," Tim said. "Don't know when. What are they doing?"

"Talking on the phone. No, the main one is coming back."

"Mr. Limehouse said you can come," the man said, "but ain't no guarantees. He ain't for strangers taking over Noble's Holler."

"Thanks—"

"Don't be thanking me yet," the man cut in. "Wait and see what Mr. Limehouse has to say first."

He indicated for them to follow behind their pick up truck. Darla swallowed her misgivings and remembered that she trusted Tim. So far, he hadn't steered her wrong and she would not surrender to the idea that her luck was about to change now.

When they reached the holler, Tim had passed out again. The men had led them to a BBQ joint. Smoke drifted into the sky. The food smelled divine. Darla hadn't realized how hungry she was until the aroma of smoked pork assaulted her senses. She parked behind the men's truck and turned to Tim. He slowly awakened from her gentle nudges.

"I'm fine, Darla. I've had worse." He smiled at her. To her surprise he fumbled with the door handle and exited the car.

She hurried to join him on the other side. She put his arm around her while they waited for the men to return with Limehouse.

"Well, so a Marshal got himself shot and come running to me for cover." A fiftysomething black man stepped from the joint. He wore a hat and an apron. He moved with authority. He looked from Darla to Tim and back again. "Y'all all about the sistas lately, huh?"

"She's in trouble," Tim said. "She needs protection."

"From the looks of it," Limehouse said, "she ain't the only one in trouble. Where'd the bullet get you?"

"Left shoulder," Tim said.

"Clean or it's still in there?"

"Clean," Tim said. "I'm fine. She needs protection—"

"Heard you the first time," Limehouse cut in. "I don't know why ya'll think I'm running a motel or some shit out here. Bringing trouble to my doorstep and a pretty brown girl like this one ain't nothing but trouble. What happened, whitebread? Her old man caught wind of you messing around his henhouse?"

"We can go somewhere else," Darla said. "I told you—"

"Hold your horses, pretty girl," Limehouse said. "Your man thinks you'll be safe here. Says you need protection."

"You'll be safe here," Tim said. "Trust me—"

"He wants you to trust him," Limehouse said. "I'll be shit. A white man wants a black woman to trust him. He's vouching for me on my property. Ain't that something y'all?"

"She doesn't know you," Tim said stiffly. "She knows me. If your answer is no, just say so. We'll go."

"You got shot taking care of her," Limehouse said.

Tim nodded.

"Her man do that to you?" Limehouse asked.

"No."

Limehouse stared and Darla returned his glare. She wasn't sure what caused his delay, but she was certain she didn't like it. Tim was hurt. At this point, the gunmen were the least of her worries. She wanted Tim to be well. Knowing that he had been hurt protecting her made all the memories of her last moments with Nik Cassalotti return and pushing them away took more energy than she had. More than anything, she wanted this moment done and this time in her life over. She wanted to be free of the past once and for all.

"Fine," Limehouse said. "Show 'em that back cabin. See to his wound. Bring 'em some food."

Tim leaned on Darla as they followed Limehouse's men to the cabin. When they had moved several feet, the older man called out, "Marshal, consider this a favor and that you owe me."

"I know," Tim said. "I know."

[A/N: Thanks for reading, following, favoriting, reviewing, and leaving kudos. With the semester ending soon, I hope to update more frequently. But enough about me! I am excited that the final season of Justified is one month away and that the couples (in this fic) are in Harlan County. Due to other priorities, this chapter wasn't as long as I prefer, but it keeps the story moving. The next one should be lengthy like the previous ones. I'm debating the appearance of a certain Crowder, but I'm on the fence about it. For sure, one couple will share an intimate moment or two.]