Part 5:

Reconciliation

"You call that shooting, missy?"

Maddie's lip twitched as the old man's raspy voice teased at her ear and prickled her rising anger. Frustrated, she furrowed her brow to the point where it almost looked comical and bit down on her lip. "I know what I'm doin', goddamn it!"

"Watch your language, Miss Ross."

The angry fifteen-year-old girl flicked her seething gaze over to him and shouted, "I know how to shoot!"

"Like hell you do," he shot back, looking as if a small smirk dared to escape past his white mustache. His eyes glinted with a mixture of reminiscence, humor, and disappointment. He sat atop an empty barrel and leaned his back against the white wall of Chuparosa—he had decided it best to teach his young pupil how to be a better shot just outside of town rather than within its walls. A smoking cigarette rested gently between his index and middle finger in his left hand; in the other, he held a shot glass full of whiskey. Beside him, he'd made a make-shift table and bar out of several stacked crates: on top of the highest crate sat a bottle of whiskey and another cigarette he'd rolled up in preparation for a long, stressful afternoon. He figured he'd needed at least two smokes and some strong liquor to help him deal with the hot-headed teenager.

"Hold your gun steady. And bend them knees, girl. You're standin' stiffer than a tall hickory."

Again, Maddie glared at him. With an extravagant sigh and a nasty scowl, she turned and faced him with one hand resting sassily on her hip and the other flimsily holding her semi-automatic pistol. Her shoulder-length hair swayed lazily in the wind as a breeze picked up. "For your information, Ricketts, my pa showed me how to shoot! Granted, that's the only thing he did right with me, but—"

"He failed at that, too, kid," Landon corrected solidly, looking her deep in the eyes with a penetrating, truthful stare. He jerked his head towards the line of empty whiskey bottles he'd set up earlier that day about twenty yards in front of his pupil. "Now let's see you shoot like a real gunfighter. You wanna learn how to defend yourself properly, right?"

The teenage girl pursed her lips. "Yeah."

The old man beckoned forth with cigarette in hand. "Then let me see what you've got, and without any of that sass. Watch your temper, girl. Don't let it get the best of you and your gun."

She rolled her eyes and sighed yet again as she turned back to the bottles before her sitting atop barrels. She brought the pistol back up and cocked it angrily with a flick of the toggle with her index finger and thumb. Frustrated by her lack of progress and irritated at the old man watching her, she half-heartedly looked down the barrel of the gun and aimed her sights at the first bottle for what seemed like the tenth time that minute. Struggling to gain confidence, she blinked as she pulled back the trigger. The gun kicked back, nearly hitting her square on the forehead, and just as she predicted, the bottle still stood in one piece, taunting her.

"Hold it steady!" Ricketts chastised, his rustic voice rising in pitch. "Quit gettin' angry and just shoot."

"I AM!" she shrieked and then proceeded to fire off three rounds blindly at the target. The bottle remained untouched. "SON OF A BITCH!" she screamed and nearly threw her gun.

"Watch your mouth!" Ricketts barked. He shook his head as he watched her toss up her hands in defeat and pace back and forth four steps. He frowned deeply, knowing how much hard work was ahead of him and his young student. He cocked an eyebrow at her as she glanced over at him. "You feel better now?"

"No!"

"Then why'd you waste those bullets?"

She was too livid to respond as she glared at him through her long, wind-blown tresses.

"Don't you give me that look. Stop getting so worked up, girl. You're letting your—"

"Anger get the best of me, I know!" she finished with a roll of her eyes. She flicked back her hair with a jerk of her head and glared at the bottle before her with all the hatred she could project upon an inanimate object that seemingly loved to mock her.

"Then what's the problem, mi niña?"

She jammed the pistol into the holster that hung at her hip and exhaled greatly. Tears of seething defeat welled in her eyes, and she tucked her chin down into her collarbone and hid her face from her adopted father out of shame. To show him her disappointment in herself was beyond what she could fathom to do; she'd had enough of crying in front of him, and yet somehow she couldn't toughen herself up just yet. The tears threatened to spill over and trickle down her cheeks, and she swallowed hard at the lump in her throat and did her best to not let them be shed. Coupled with the affectionate name he'd given her recently, she figured he was surely disappointed in her as well.

"I can't do this," she somehow said through her sorrow. Her throat hurt terribly; she swallowed again and sniffed.

"Yes, you can," Ricketts reassured. He took several thoughtful inhales of his cigarette and released a cloud of smoke as he studied her slouched stance. "You know what your problem is?"

She sniffed and mumbled, "What's that?"

Landon smirked as nostalgia flooded his mind's eye. "You're just like me when I was your age. You're too hot-headed. You've got to get past that, kiddo, if you wanna be any bit of good with a gun and start going after bounties. You're over-thinking things when it should all just stay simple. Just aim and pull the trigger, niña. Focus, aim, and shoot. That's all there is to it."

She clamped her mouth shut and continued to stare down at her boots.

"Here," the old man said as he stood up out of his seat. He trudged up to her and put the cigarette in his mouth as he came to stand behind and slightly off to her right side. With the smoke tucked between his lips, he uttered, "Quit feelin' sorry for yourself and lift that chin up. C'mon, bring up that gun."

With lackluster, Maddie drew her gun and held it up.

Taking a step closer, the grand master clasped his hand over hers and helped bring up the gun further, correcting her and holding it steady. "Now, when you shoot, don't lock your elbow. You'll wanna have a little give to it, but don't stand there with a limp arm. You'll want to be ready for that recoil, or else you're gonna end up knocking yourself out. When you shoot, squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it back." He took his hand off hers only to place it comfortingly on her shoulder. "And relax. You're tense as hell, you're gettin' mad, and that's affecting how you shoot." He took a step away and beckoned with a small wave of his hand. "Let me see you put your anger to good use and shoot straight for once. Focus, aim, and shoot. That's all there is to it."

"I'm tryin', damn it!"

"Maddie…"

She pursed her lips and exhaled haughtily through her nose. "Sorry." She could feel his eyes on her face as she blinked away the tears and looked down the barrel of the pistol she held weakly in her hand. Her index finger hugged the trigger, but she did not yet pull it as she aimed at the bottle twenty yards away.

"Be strong, girl," Ricketts added softly. His voice held a tint of affection and comfort to it as he added, "Be strong for your mama now. I know you can do this."

The tears reappeared in her eyes at the mention of her late mother, and as she gripped the gun tightly in her grasp and steadied her aim, she swallowed thickly and blinked in rapid succession. The tears eventually disappeared, and in their stead, her resolve returned.

"Para Mamá," she whispered and pulled the trigger.

The bottle shattered brilliantly into a thousand shards as if in glorious answer to her heartfelt proclamation. She felt Landon's warm, calloused hand on her shoulder.

"Muy bien, mi niña," her adopted father said proudly. "Muy bien."

The cool evening breeze was enough to make Maddie shiver as she reached the top of the nearest outlook. She was confronted by a lonely Gatling gun; it looked as cold and unwelcome as any other beastly weapon, yet she pressed on and stepped up from the ladder. The wind tossed her hair and duster about, and in an effort to shield herself of it, she lowered herself beneath the wall of the look-out. She shivered yet again as she wrapped her duster tightly around herself. The evening proved almost too much of a reminder that winter was on its way. With that grudging thought slipping into her mind, Maddie leaned her back against the wall and tilted her head back to stare angrily up at the stars.

"Why is everything wrong?" she asked, not knowing whether that question was directed toward herself or to the night sky. "Why has it all gone to shit?"

The sky remained silent and still just as it always remained, leaving the unanswered question lingering in the air for her to ponder on. With an angry huff, Maddie turned her gaze away from the sky and let her eyes wander about the landscape. Looking out across the San Luis river and beyond, her mind began to pound out a million questions that she knew would only remain unanswered, just like her first one. Frustrated, she ripped off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, starting at the roots and combing them through to the ends. It did nothing to soothe her, this gesture of self-calming, but she didn't know what to do otherwise.

Why did I ruin everything? she asked herself. She sniffed and let out a shaky exhale, feeling the weight of the severity of the entire situation crush her, now that she was alone. It's like I didn't learn my lesson the last time I went after a big bounty. Randall stole my virginity, and I almost died, and though this is nothing compared to the past, I have once again brought a terrible fate onto myself and Jack. She scoffed. Hell, it's no wonder Jack's pissed at me. A deep frown began to tug down on the corners of her mouth. Have I really been selfish all along?

She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them against her. She rested her chin on her knees and stared at the Gatling gun without looking at it as she thought on. Have I really drug myself and my husband into so terrible a mess for something so petty as wanting to relive the old days? Did I seriously not consider Jack while making my decisions and thereby thoughtlessly dragging him along? I know he's uncomfortable being here in Mexico. Fuck, he's been that way ever since we left the ranch and crossed the border. She hugged her knees tighter and furrowed her brow. But how was I to know things would go terribly wrong? I didn't realize La Phantasma would go so far as to try to eradicate the entire population of Mexico in her quest for death. She brought her brow to her knees and rested her head against them with a heavy sigh. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe we've already lost before it all began.

Resolutely, though, she brought her head back up from her knees. Her gaze pierced the glinting Gatling as she thought, But we can't just give up like a lame horse and fall over and let nature take its course on us. We've taken on too many bounties to simply give up the moment we're presented with a real challenge. I sure as shit won't let that happen.

Her thoughts receded for a time, and when she grew tired of staring at the gun, she turned her attention downward at her boots, and inwardly at herself. Self-pity and shame began to eat away at her like an insatiable parasite. Once again, she hugged her knees tightly and rested her forehead on her kneecaps as she inwardly inspected herself and her flaws, and quite quickly, her thoughts began to race once more.

Have I really been selfish? Is Jack right? She exhaled through her nose and shook her head while rolling her eyes. Who the fuck am I kidding? Jack's usually right, anyways. He knows me better than I know myself.

To busy and comfort herself, she dove a hand into one of her inner pockets of her duster and retrieved a match and a cigar. It took several tries to light it, as the wind kept conspiring against her, but once the cigar was lit, she puffed gratefully on it and released great tendrils of blue smoke. She watched the wind snatch the smoke and rip it into nothingness as it stole it away from her on cold gusts. The bright red cheery at the end of the cigar was her light source atop the look-out. The sliver of a moon could be seen above; however, it didn't shed any light down upon her and the rest of the world. Hastily, she puffed on her cigar then, but as she released the smoke, she silently berated herself for smoking so fast. Take your time, she reminded herself with a roll of her eyes. You know it's the only way to smoke a cigar.

She studied her cigar carefully, noticing how well-packed and rolled it was, and she mulled on the taste of it as it lingered pleasantly on her palette. The smoke fought to caress her face before it was snatched away from her by the wind. Maddie sighed and looked up at the stars. She felt her eyes brim with tears of longing and disappointment.

"Oh, Landon," she sighed, "I wish you were here. You'd have a thing or two to say to me and Jack right now. Hell, we both know he'd listen to you more than me. I wish you could've met him at least. I wonder what you'd think of him, and of us." She chortled bitterly as she brought the cigar back to her mouth. "Guess we'll never find out…"

Her words drifted away from her like the smoke from her cigar, never to fall upon any other ears but hers. She sat smoking in silence as the breeze whispered incomprehensible secrets to her and played with her long hair like a bold, flirtatious admirer. Quite soon, the chilly night took its toll on her, and after an hour or so of silent pondering and self-examination, she'd had enough of it all. She stood up, took one last long puff of her cigar, and flicked it out across the fortress wall. She watched the darkness below her swallow her cigar before she put her hat back on, descended the ladder, and made her way towards the main building where she knew he'd be inside waiting for an apology.

Might as well get this over with, she thought grimly as she walked up the steps and approached the door. Her hand lingered on the door knob, however, as she briefly thought of what she was going to say to her distraught husband. Her mind drew a blank suddenly, and as she struggled to retain what she'd rehearsed in her head minutes ago, she chewed on her lip and glared at the door.

"Maldita sea," she whispered. She frowned and nodded, readying herself for the arduous conversation she knew she'd endure. Preparing herself, she turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.

It wasn't hard to find Jack: he was the only person sitting in the spacious room at the large table. The electric light above his head cast him in a brooding shadow. He was sitting with his hat pulled down low over his face: only his angry frown and his unkempt facial hair could be seen. In his right hand, he held a cigarette that spat up a curling tendril of smoke. In his left hand, he clutched a half-empty bottle of tequila. Maddie quietly crossed the room and approached him. Her spurs tinkled and her boots thudded loudly as she came to stand before him and the table. The chair shrieked in protest as she slid it out from underneath the table; it creaked as she sat down on it and rested her elbows on the table top. She clasped her cold hands together in front of her and sat studying Jack, waiting for him to speak.

Jack, however, sat silent and still as ever. His anger was palpable for her as it drifted across the table and sat lingering like a wanton visitor. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, took one long, angry drag, and released the smoke in a cloud of frustration. The dragon stirred within his sanctuary of solitude and darkness and sat impatiently waiting for his intruder to take initiative.

Maddie frowned at her mute husband. "Say something, Jack," she said, finally breaking the silence between them. "C'mon, I know you've got plenty to say to me."

He exchanged the cigarette for the tequila instead, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a large gulp. He sat the bottle back down with a slight bang.

His wife's eyes lingered on the half-empty bottle. "I'm surprised you're not drunk yet."

"I'm too pissed off to get drunk," he snapped, finally looking up at her from beneath his hat. The smoke from his cigarette angrily coiled and danced, looking like the twitching tail of a cat.

Maddie merely pursed her lips in response and looked away. The thought of drinking sounded awfully tempting to her, and for a split second, she considered stealing the bottle from him. No, she thought with an internal shake of her head. No, it would only piss him off further. Still, she couldn't help but glance at the bottle he clutched in his left hand with gnarled fingers that resembled the claws of a lion about to attack. The claws were retracted for the time being, but they were still there, waiting for the opportune moment.

"But I know you've got somethin' to say to me," Jack said. He flashed his eyebrows at her and waited with pursed lips.

Maddie glared at him and gripped her clasped hands together tightly. "What do you want me to say, Jack?"

"You know exactly what I want, Madeline. Don't pretend otherwise." He brought the cigarette to his lips and took another drag. He blew the smoke through his nose this time, a sign that Maddie knew all too well, a sign that meant he was beyond enraged.

To buy herself time, Maddie reached across the table for the tequila. However, Jack anticipated her move and jerked the bottle far beyond her reach.

"You ain't gonna try and stall by drinking, Maddie."

"I just wanted a sip is all."

"I don't give a good goddamn 'bout what you want right now."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Give me that damn bottle, Jack."

He held it further away from her. "Hell no! Not until you say what needs to be said."

She sighed through her nose. "Fine, you pendejo." Her mouth twitched as she struggled to throw up the words she'd been meaning to say, the words she and Jack knew needed to be spoken. She unclasped her hands only to clench them into fists on the table as she did her best to push her apology up her throat, form it across her tongue and lips, and vomit it into the open, hungry air between her and her husband. She looked down at the table and bit down on her lip, fighting with herself. At last, as she felt her most vulnerable and weak, she murmured, "I'm sorry." She sighed and ran a gnarled hand through her long tresses to comfort herself through such an arduous moment. "I'm sorry for everything. You…you were right, Jack. You were right all along. We—I got ourselves into some deep shit."

Jack leaned back in his chair and waited for her to continue.

Maddie took the hint and struggled on. "You're right. I was wrong to drag us both into this mess and get so neck-deep in shit that we can't breathe or even act. I was wrong to think I was gonna be able to go back to the past, to the way we were…the way I was…and relive the good old days. I was a fool to think I could free these people from a pesky criminal and be done with it all and be back at the ranch in no time. But now…now things have really escalated into something even greater, and…I don't think I can do this on my own now. We need to fix this…I need to fix this."

The pleasure Jack felt in hearing her confession was short-lived as he breathed a sigh of disappointment and shook his head at his wife. "Why did you have to insist we go and get ourselves into a shit-storm in a country that isn't ours? Weren't you happy back at home with me? Was I not givin' you the life you wanted?"

"I'll always be happy with you no matter where we are. Don't ever doubt that, darling."

"But it wasn't really what you wanted, was it?"

She shrugged and looked off to the side. "I don't know what to tell you."

"The truth."

"I have been, haven't I? I just said what you wanted to hear, and more. How have I not been truthful?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, you have, but still…"

"Still what?"

"You may have apologized to me, but that doesn't take into account for the way you handled things."

Her mouth dropped open. "How do you figure?"

He pointed at her angrily with his cigarette and stated, "You agreed to go on a wild goose chase into a different country after a psychotic bitch for a few thousand bucks, and all before even takin' me into consideration. It was a stupid and selfish decision on your part to not let me know of your plans. I don't care if Archer assigned you to this job or bounty or mission or whatever you wanna call it—you should've talked to me beforehand. If we're gonna work together, if we're gonna be together, then we have to make decisions together. That's all there is to it, Maddie."

Maddie pounded the table with a fist and shouted, "We've already established that I was selfish, damn it! Must you continue to bring that point up?"

"Yes, goddamn it!" Jack yelled back, his voice overshadowing hers.

The couple glowered at each other for a long moment.

"Look," Jack continued on, his tone steadily softening, "all I'm sayin' is that you agreed to marry me four years ago, and when you did, you and I made many vows."

"I'm not going back on any of my vows, Jack," his wife retorted with a shake of her head.

He lifted a hand. "Let me finish." After a brief second to take a swig of tequila, he continued, "I'm just askin' that you make decisions with me from now on. Hell, we were doin' great back at Beecher's Hope. We've had a good four years together, haven't we?"

Maddie nodded. "Of course."

"Then why would you go off and agree to do such a thing without my say-so, much less drag us down to Mexico and have us end up in a tight fuckin' spot with no chance in hell of winning?"

"Because it's my goddamned right to have the freedom to choose and do whatever I wish!" she angrily blurted out as she stood up out of her chair. The chair's legs shrieked as it slid back on the floor and almost tipped back. "When I agreed to marry you, we also made a decision to not bring the other into a binding situation. The day I agreed to take your name and be your wife is also the day that you agreed that you would NEVER restrain me into the same situation my mother was when she was alive and with my father. We agreed that we'd make our marriage work better than my parents', that we'd be happier than them." She narrowed her eyes at her husband. "Or do you not remember that?"

Jack nodded as he looked up at her with steadfast resolve. "I remember that day perfectly, Maddie, as well as our wedding day. Don't think I forget such important moments as those." He took several thoughtful drags off his cigarette before blowing the smoke through his mouth with a heavy sigh. "I try to treat you the best I can. Haven't I been doin' that?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And haven't I given you the life you wanted, the life we helped build when I got back to Beecher's Hope after I was pardoned all those years back? Maddie, I've given you the utmost freedom anyone could be given in a marriage: I've let you ride around Blackwater and all around West Elizabeth whenever you wanted, I've let you go after bounties and have even helped you on some of them. The fact that we don't have kids says a lot—you've been the main reason why. I never once pressured you into havin' children, and I'm okay with that, as I'm sure you are. So what I'm askin' is: why did you feel like you had to go behind my back and go after this ridiculous bounty just for the sake of relivin' the old days?"

Maddie's mouth remained open for a time as she stood staring down at him. Her eyes searched his, as if she were looking for the answer to his question in him. Doubtless that she'd never find it, she looked down at her clenched fists that remained on the table and brought them up. She opened her hands and searched instead in her palms, as if willing her answer to magically appear into them. She took off her hat and ran her hands through her hair as she sat back down. A heavy sigh issued through her open mouth, and she shook her head, not even knowing where to start searching within her mind.

Jack grinned and extended the half-empty bottle of tequila to her across the table. She took it from him and drank several hearty gulps of it. Without batting an eye, she handed him the bottle back, wiped her mouth with her duster sleeve, and sighed again.

"Better?" he asked.

"Better," she murmured. She looked him in the eyes and snorted derisively. "You must think you're married to a child, with the way I've been acting lately."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. He grinned at her, his brown eyes sparkling with adoration. He lifted her hand up to his lips and kissed the top of it. "No. I'm married to a beautiful woman with a wild, untamed spirit and a heart of gold."

She smiled and joked, "So at last we know the truth."

"I've always known it."

She interlaced her fingers with his. "You smooth-talker, you."

He shrugged. "I try to be."

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed the bottle and took another swig.