Chapter 29 – Further Questions of Female Suffrage
In the past few weeks you've spent with Sadie, she had told you repeatedly that you wouldn't truly learn unless you've seen action, and each time she brought it up, you easily dismissed the notion, thinking it might have just been her own version of tough love. You've never given it much thought, really—until now.
You found yourself a couple of miles away from Shady Belle, taking cover behind a boulder, its rough texture pressing against your fingers. The midday sun blazed overhead as Sadie cautiously surveyed the clearing ahead. She informed you casually that there may be about a dozen or more Lemoyne Raiders that had set up a camp there.
You fumbled with your Colt revolver, your hands slightly trembling with apprehension. "I've never shot anyone, Sadie," you muttered as you tried to wrap your head around the reality of the situation. "I've never killed anyone. I don't think I ever can!"
You have desperately tried to explain to her that target practice and taking down the occasional deer were already more than enough, considering before all these, the mere recoil of a gun would send you staggering backward. Now that you could manage to hit a bottle or two out of five in a row, you'd like to believe your lessons were already over, and she had taught you everything you could possibly learn.
Today, however, Sadie had a point to make – as far as she was concerned, lessons weren't over yet.
"Listen, darlin'," Sadie said reassuringly, "I get that this ain't what you signed up for, but sometimes, life deals us a hand we never expected. We ain't lookin' for trouble, but if it comes our way, we need to be ready."
You stole a glance at your Colt, its metal glinting brightly in the sun. You felt your heart pounding relentlessly. The thought of aiming your weapon at another human being sent shivers down your spine, but then you firmly reminded yourself why you were here in the first place.
The only reason why you asked for this crazy woman's help was so you could stop feeling sorry for yourself. You've been so weak and helpless all this time. Perhaps knowing how to fight back could've made all the difference that day your father was killed, or when the Braithwaites took Jack or even the last time you went face to face with your father's murderer.
"You're gonna be just fine. I got your back," she said, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. Her eyes remained fixed on the makeshift tents ahead.
Drawing in a shaky breath, you whispered more to yourself than anyone else, "Alright. Fuck. FUCK. Let's do this."
Sadie's plan was straightforward (at least to her, anyway). Given the odds you faced, your best bet would be to approach the camp quietly. Sadie would take the offensive, eliminating any stragglers on the outskirts, as you provided cover. As you get closer, you were to stay low, keep an eye out for any Raiders, and keep covering fire as she maneuvered.
"You see any one of 'em, you point and shoot," Sadie instructed. There was no room for hesitation. She reminded you – just aim, shoot, and keep her alive.
As the two of you braced yourself for the attack, you heard the bushes behind you rustle, causing your heart to leap into your throat. You swivelled around, Colt at the ready.
"Woah, woah, woah, easy there, partner!" Javier whispered. You've shot him once accidentally, and he had no intention whatsoever of going through that again. Arthur was with him. The pair approached you and Sadie, and now, all four of you were huddled together in a rather humorous display of caution.
Arthur leaned in, whispering just loud enough for the group, "We were out fishing and saw you ladies headin' this way. Armed like that, sure didn't seem like a goddamned Sunday picnic you were planning on." Arthur said.
"So what's the plan?" Javier chimed in enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together.
Sadie shook her head at the audacity but instantly realised that a significant advantage had just presented itself. She leaned in closer to you, "Seems like we've got ourselves an impromptu raiding party, darlin'. The more, the merrier, I s'pose. I don't want you getting killed on your first rodeo, and with these two around, we'll have some extra insurance."
She looked at your faces and decisively directed, "Javier, you're with me. Arthur, you're with [Y/N]."
With that settled, you and Arthur swiftly moved to a huge tree, giving you a vantage point over the Lemoyne Raiders' camp. The heat was stifling, but the intensity of the upcoming confrontation made the air feel even heavier. The tree was a little further from the action, but it provided enough cover for both of you.
Arthur readied his revolvers. Every so often, his gaze flitted to you, but you purposely averted your eyes. You clutched your weapon tighter, your palms slick with sweat.
"What? We still ain't talking?"
Taking a moment, you replied, "Just make sure I don't end up dead, Mr. Morgan, and we can call it even."
A faint smirk played on his lips, but his eyes remained serious. "Don't you worry none, I ain't gonna let that happen," he whispered, his voice steady. You found his seemingly calm demeanour, like he'd been through this dance a million times before, both comforting and slightly disconcerting.
Sadie made the first move, expertly dispatching two unsuspecting Raiders who had ventured dangerously close to her spot (most probably to take a piss). Gunshots broke immediately after, the acrid scent of the gunpowder filling the air. That was your signal. Arthur and Javier followed suit, making every bullet count as they maneuvered through the Raiders' camp.
For you, however, time seemed to stand still as the sounds of the battle overwhelmed you – the pop and crack of firearms and the desperate cries of each Raider they've successfully taken down. 'Move! Damn it, move! Just point and shoot, that's all!' But no matter how much you berated yourself, your feet remained rooted to the ground.
Arthur was already a few paces ahead. He turned around to check if you were right behind him. His eyes widened with concern when he noticed you weren't advancing.
"Move, [Y/N], now!" he urged you in desperation, momentarily letting his guard down.
Then you saw it. As your partner grew increasingly distracted by your inaction, he had failed to notice a Raider creeping up, his weapon raised. He had Arthur dead to rights. Without thinking, instincts taking over, you aimed your Colt and fired – pop! Pop! The bullets hit the Raider just as he was about to pull the trigger on Arthur. The man fell, a surprised expression on his face as he crumpled to the ground.
Arthur looked at you, stunned. "Nice shot!" He called out, a sense of relief and admiration in his voice. "Now get over here!"
The fight continued around you, and there was no time to dwell on the life you had just taken. With each subsequent shot and move you made, you found your rhythm, your reactions sharpening as the minutes passed. Arthur, meanwhile, never strayed too far from your side. He fought fiercely, but every so often, his eyes would search for you amidst the chaos, making sure you were safe.
The hideout was slowly cleared, and as the last Raider fell, a tense silence settled over your surroundings. You looked at your companions. Their faces were smeared with dirt and sweat, a few scratches and bruises here and there, but alive, nonetheless.
Sadie clapped you on the back, "You did good out there."
As you prepared for the journey home, the adrenaline from the fight began to ebb away, and you felt a sharp, persistent pain on the side of your abdomen. You had dismissed it at first, but the pain and discomfort only grew more pronounced.
"Hey, you alright?" Javier asked, noticing the discomfort you were in. Reluctantly, you lifted your shirt, revealing its source. Your face drained of colour as you saw the dark stain on the clothing, the vivid red of fresh blood.
Sadie's eyes widened with alarm, and Arthur was quick to approach. "Dammit." He muttered under his breath.
"It looks like it just grazed you," Sadie observed – she was right. The wound appeared to be superficial, most likely a bullet grazing your side rather than penetrating deeply – a stroke of luck, you thought, realising that should you have stood inches away from your spot earlier, you would've been pretty much dead by now.
Still, you knew that even seemingly minor wounds could turn serious if left untreated. With trembling hands, you pressed a cloth against the wound, applying gentle pressure to slow the bleeding. The pain was sharp.
Javier watched with concern. "You're gonna be alright," he assured you. "It's not too bad. We need to get you home and patch you up."
Back at the camp, the four of you made quite the sight. With your arm draped over Javier's shoulders for support, you leaned heavily on him while Sadie took the lead, guiding your unsteady steps toward your tent. Arthur followed close from behind. The commotion drew the attention of several gang members, who watched in curious concern. Dutch and Hosea stood from their seats on the veranda, their eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"It's fine. I can do this." You tried to convince them. But they were having none of it.
Sadie gave you a stern look, her eyes unyielding. "You ain't in any condition to be actin' tough," she stated matter-of-factly.
Javier gently cut you off. "Stop being stubborn." He helped you inside, carefully setting you down on the bedroll. The dim interior was a stark contrast to the dying light outside. His eyes constantly darted from your face to the injury on your side. You began to instruct him, but your voice came out weaker than you had anticipated.
"Javier... get my bag," you whispered, grimacing from the pain.
He quickly did as he was told. As he started cleaning the wound, he looked up, his dark eyes searching yours for assurance. He tried to be gentle, but his uncertainty was evident.
"Easy there," you whispered, wincing slightly when he accidentally pressed a bit too close to the wound.
Javier's eyes widened in alarm. "Lo siento," he whispered apologetically. "I'm trying to be careful, but..."
"It's okay. Just listen, and I'll tell you what to do." Despite the pain, you gave him a small, reassuring smile.
Outside the tent, you could hear the faint murmurs of Sadie and Arthur's conversation, occasionally glancing inside to see how you were doing.
"Ain't' too bad for your first time, huh." Arthur quipped, peeking into the tent and handing you a flask of whiskey. You took a swig, the fiery liquid providing temporarily relief as it dulled the biting sting of your injury. You exhaled deeply, savouring the brief reprieve as Javier diligently tended to your wound.
"What the hell happened?!" John's voice was agitated, jolting you from your moment of respite, as he pushed past Arthur and Sadie to get a look at you. His eyes locked onto the wound, then Javier's hands, covered in your blood. His face contorted in anger and worry, and his eyes met yours for a brief moment. but it felt more like an eternity.
You did tell him last night you'd talk today, but you purposefully went out with Sadie (although at that point, you were oblivious to what she had planned all along) using it as a convenient excuse to avoid him.
"We got her, John," Arthur assured him, indicating that now might not be the best time for too many questions.