A/N - This one is very loosely based on some events from RDR2, because 1) that was a kick-ass game! And 2) I frickin' LOVE a western! This one has no powers.
Summary - In 1889, a recently widowed Marie fights for survival and stumbles across a camp of rebels, The Idealists. When she meets Logan, sparks fly, and not in the typical sense of the word.
A lot had happened in the last year; firstly the farm where Marie and Bobby D'Ancanto made their livelihood succumbed to a plague of locusts. Then an unexpectedly dry spring had killed off most of their livestock before the hot, dusty summer rolled around and killed the rest. And a few weeks back, Bobby, had ailed and eventually died himself of the yellow fever.
Once he'd gone, there was nothing left to stick around for, so Marie high-tailed it off cross-country in search of any living relatives. She did remember her late father saying there was a great-aunt Carrie somewhere out in California, so that was her heading.
Honest work for a woman without any references was almost nonexistent, and since she could no longer rely on the familiar acquaintance of locals, she was fresh out of luck. In another twist of cruel fate, her beautiful sandy-colored horse, Meadow, had been stolen from outside a mercantile while she hurriedly shopped for 'cheap' staples that wiped the last of her tradable goods.
The onward journey on foot was less than pleasant. In near hundred-degree heat and shoes that had almost worn down to bare, she settled her feet into a shallow, slow-flowing river when disguised behind a bush, she'd overheard a conversation between two lawmen. They were searching for a group of bandits who called themselves "The Idealists", who'd been apprehended but somehow given them the slip and crossed quite a few state lines in order to escape jurisdictional charges.
Quietly, Marie slipped her useless shoes back on and continued on her way. She'd just about taken to stealing eggs and other easily obtainable goods from good folks' gardens in order to survive when she stumbled across the camp of vagrants.
Watching the camp members' interactions for a while, she figured she'd slip into one of the outer tents to see if there was anything of value she might pawn for a few more days worth of meals. After all, stealing from thieves wasn't quite as immoral as stealing from the innocent.
Wondering if any of that money could be stretched to a hot bath, she made to jump out of the tall grasses that she thought were concealing her when a large, work-roughened hand clamped over her mouth and pulled her back.
"And just where do you think you're going, little miss?" A gravelly voice purred in her ear.
She started to protest but her words, muffled by the stranger, came out little more than squeaks as she thrashed around trying to get free. She could feel that he was tall and powerfully built without even catching sight of the man.
"We got ourselves a live-un here!" He yelled, striding purposely into the camp with Marie's back still to his chest and both her hands trapped by one of his large ones.
A thin, older man approached from his position by the campfire, with steel-grey hair and cool grey eyes, "So, you're the scoundrel who's been pilfering all of our canned goods? I expected you to be… bigger. Surely you can't have eaten all those beans yourself?"
Her restrainer removed his hand from her mouth so Marie could respond.
"No! Ah've only just arrived, actually!"
More camp members appeared, poking their heads out of tents or emerging from tasks in the immediate area. A slender, haughty-looking redhead narrowed her eyes at the disheveled Marie as she took her place beside the older man, while various other men and women leaned up against nearby trees or stood conspiratorially in smaller groups, whispering behind their hands.
Marie struggled in the larger man's grip, succeeding only in bruising her wrists, while he interjected, "Caught her trying to sneak into Pete's tent."
A menacing-looking cowboy eyed her lasciviously and spat a stream of tobacco near her feet.
"Sir! Ah will thank you kindly to not do that!" Marie objected, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Hoo, hoo! You're right. Logan. She is lively!" The spitting cowboy called Pete hollered.
"Ah won't be alive much longer if ah don't get me something to eat!"
The grey older man addressed her again, in a tone that quite clearly told her, woman or not, they didn't take kindly to strangers.
"And why should we care?"
Marie thought quickly, and her mind fell a few miles back to where she'd overheard an interesting conversation.
"Cause y'all got the law on ya like ants at a picnic and ah know how to ward 'em off!"
"I did see a few of the Pinkerton fellas hanging around near the creek at dawn," The man called Logan interjected.
"Woman, if what you say is true, what makes you think we need your help?" Another cowboy spoke, this one smaller framed with shoulder-length brown hair swept under his hat.
"Ah got a plan!"
Marie explained her hastily thought-up idea, which involved luring the defectives away down a false route while the other gang members relocated the camp some miles down and across the river, heading back on themselves somewhat.
"It could work," Pete mumbled, "we ain't got a lot of options if they're as close as Logan says."
"What do you think, Eric?" Logan addressed the grey man.
The red-headed woman leaned into Eric and said in a quiet voice that was all too easy to overhear in the silence of the clearing, "We can't trust her. What if it's a trap?"
Eric held up a hand, "Jean, let me think."
Marie was fast running out of options, and if she wanted to avoid this day being her last, then she needed this group of strangers to trust her, or at least feed her.
"Why would I be trying to trick you when I want to join? I've traveled halfway across the country by foot because I've got nothing left to lose."
Another woman standing close by, with caramel-colored skin and oddly white hair for somebody who seemed to be in her early thirties, stepped in, "You found me under similar circumstances. I think we should give her a chance."
"I promise you, Ah'm just a woman down on her luck. You can trust me."
Eric eyed Logan over her head for a long moment.
"So, we got ourselves a deal?"
Eric nodded, more to himself than in reply.
"The girl stays." Then he turned and headed away into the largest tent with a fuming Jean at his heels.
Marie busied herself with menial tasks and tried not to get in anyone's way. She'd show them she was worth keeping around. That afternoon, she was put on dinner duty with the mean-looking Victor, who leered unpleasantly at her while he sat back, watching her prepare vegetables for the stew.
"Are you just gonna sit on your sorry ass while ah do all the cooking?" She shot at him.
He picked his teeth with fingernails in dire need of a trim, which should've under no circumstances have been around food for human consumption, "Cooking is a woman's job."
"And what's yours?" Marie questioned, trying to keep her temper.
And the arrogant man replied with, "Mine is partaking in the goods, sweetheart."
"You ain't gonna get a lick of stew if ah have it my way."
"Just as well that I'm not hungry for stew then, ain't it?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Marie raised the blunt paring knife and used it to punctuate her next sentence, "You continue and I'll make sure you never hunger for anything again!"
Victor chuckled darkly, "That little thing won't keep me at bay for long."
"Size is no reflection of power."
He got to his feet, towering over her, and smiled widely, showing off his crooked and surprisingly pointed teeth.
"Wanna bet?"
Marie snarled in reply.
"D'Acanto!" Logan shouted over. "We're on errands! Now!"
Marie tossed the knife down, narrowly missing Victor's mud-caked boots, and stomped over to the wagon Logan had settled on. With a sarcastic wave to Victor, who was watching her leave with a mad glint in his eye, the wagon set in motion and they were off.
As soon as they were out of sight around the first clump of trees, Marie turned to Logan, who seemed to think he was owed some kind of thanks.
"Ah don't need saving by the likes of you!" She snapped, folding her arms.
The corner of his lips twisted up in an amused smile, "Didn't say you did."
Not easily appeased, Marie huffed, "Well next time, don't butt in."
A few seconds silent contemplation passed before Logan spoke again, "That man you were arguing with got a bad history with his temper. Those who challenge him usually aren't around to tell the tale."
"Being challenged should be the least of his worries! Goddarn lazy bastard sitting on his backside like he owns the joint while ah'm doing all the work. Me and my husband used to share the workload, and sit down at the end of the day to a meal we'd both cooked, as equals."
"He sounds like he was a damn good man." Said Logan, without a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
Taken off guard by his genuine response, Marie softened slightly, "Yeah. He was. But I still don't need any unsolicited warnings or advice, thank ya very much!"
"Just saying. If you want to live to see another sunrise, don't go picking fights with Victor."
Marie took to pouting and looking out over the approaching town. The late afternoon sunlight had a golden quality to it, bathing the landscape in warm orange.
"What are these errands we're running?"
"Need some supplies."
"Oh, for 'Victor's stew?"
Logan chuckled lowly as he pulled the wagon up outside a general store on the outskirts of the small town. It seemed a friendly enough place with the melody of hymns floating from a nearby church and a red-painted school barn across the way. Chickens roamed around freely outside the entrance to the store, pecking at the mud.
Marie looked up at the peeling lettering on the sign, taking in the ambiance of the town life. The idle chatter of passersby. The way her bare toes felt through her battered shoes on the creaking boardwalk planks. The tinkle of the bell as she entered through the door. It was almost like her old life, familiar somehow amongst the sea of newness.
Inside the shop, rows and rows of neatly lined products assaulted her vision. There was so much of everything, from fresh produce to clothing, presented in a way that made her long for them all.
Logan made his way over to the girl serving and smacked his list onto the counter. She smiled at him sheepishly and explained she couldn't read that good yet, but she'd get her daddy and he would be able to help.
As Marie perused the shelves of canned goods, she caught sight of her reflection in a desilvering mirror, which presumably was there for customers to admire their potential new garments. Her skin, which she usually washed with violet-scented lye soap, was smeared with dirt and her only dress was filthy and torn.
Marie placed her hand over the concealed locket Bobby had given her on their wedding day and let out a mournful sigh.
A quarter-hour later, Marie stepped back out of the store outfitted in slacks, a chambray shirt, and a new pair of boots. Her new clothes were a lot cooler and more lightweight than her old, stiffly boned dress, and she felt surprisingly at ease in the more masculine clothing. She even managed to wash her face in a bucket of water out back, although her budget didn't quite stretch to luxuries such as soap.
Logan finished loading up the supplies and turned, catching sight of Marie.
"New duds?" He asked.
"Thought it was about time ah traded in my last links to femininity."
He shook his head with that small, crooked smile she'd spotted before, and pulled a tarp over the back of the wagon. A few young children ran past, a little girl with a hoop and stick and two boys with a roughly sewn-together pig skin ball. A few more skittled after them, calling and laughing as they headed home from school.
"Ready to head back?"
Smiling to herself, Marie climbed back onto the wagon bench and settled back into the wooden seat. Then she caught sight of a double-barreled shotgun resting by the wheel.
"What in the hell is that for?" she asked, with surprising ferocity.
"What do you think it's for?" Logan replied, looking at her like she was soft in the head.
"There are children around!"
Logan came to check the horses were still comfortably rigged before climbing and settling onto the bench himself.
"And if we don't have protection, how do you suppose we'll be if we get into any sort of trouble?"
"Why would we get into trouble?"
"Don't know if you realized this Marie, darlin'. But we're not so honorable."
He had a fair point. She knew the camp was a gang of outlaws, it made perfect sense they would be armed to the tobacco-stained teeth.
"Well, hide that thing! And don't call me 'darlin'."
"Yes, Ma'am," He replied, laying the gun down by their feet.
A moment passed where Marie just stared at him, wondering if he was making fun of her.
"Ma'am? You're shitting me, right?"
"Nope. I was raised correct."
He clicked his tongue and the horses swayed into a slow gait, pulling the now-loaded wagon through crests of dried mud that comprised the road.
He was a funny one to unravel, that Logan. Darkly tanned and well-built from working outdoors, although not traditionally handsome, he was good-looking in a strange kind of way that made her heart flutter. She was not usually swayed by looks. Her marriage to Bobby had been in name only, more of companionship than love. They both wished for a simple country life, a world away from the stuffy upbringing in Mississippi.
She'd only just met this Logan, and although he was quiet and seemingly closed off, there was something about him that drew her in. The gentle way he touched his horses. Reserved without being sullen. Well-mannered. She kept finding herself covertly glancing at him, as they journeyed on in relevative quiet.
A rickety bridge they'd passed over on the way was too frail to take their increased weight, so they traveled a bit further over to find the next one.
A few men rode past them at a fast trot. As they passed, Marie recognized one of the horses as Medow, her stolen palomino, from the bright white star under her forelock.
"Logan, stop the wagon!" she cried out, snatching up the shotgun from under the bench seat and launching herself out.
Logan pulled the reins sharply, "Woman, what in the hell are you doing?"
"Exacting revenge," she muttered, squeezing one eye shut and aiming for the rider. She missed, but the bullet caught the attention of the men, who stopped their horses and turned to see what was happening.
The recoil almost caused Marie to be blown backward off her feet, it was that powerful.
Logan jumped down and seized the gun off her, "You don't even know how to shoot?"
"Well, it still got their attention, didn't it?"
"And what's the plan now, kid?"
"Errm, flee?"
Logan's eyes blazed as he let out a small growl, "Get back in the wagon."
The men came galloping, pulling pistols from their belts as they fast approached. Marie snapped the reins while Logan jumped onto the seat, hanging over the side, and aimed at the closest rider.
"Next time, I'd prefer it if you didn't start shit you can't finish." He bellowed as the round left the shotgun, finding its target in the man's shoulder. He cried out in pain and fell off the careening horse, which then trampled the man in fright of the gunshot.
Unfortunately, it was one of his comrades who was riding Meadow, a gangly youth very nearly out of teenhood. His blond hair flopped down from under his hat, just reaching his smooth jaw. The hand holding the pistol was unsteady, utter terror shining in his eyes as he stared down the barrel of Logan's gun.
He fired near the boy's ear, not close enough to put him in any real danger, but sufficient so he could feel the bullet whooshing through the air beside him. Terrified, the boy fell from Meadow, or he could have jumped, that was more likely, and rolled into a clump of brush by the side of the dirt road, leaving only one man.
Older, grizzled, a mean smirk twisting his sun-weathered features through a week's worth of stubble. He took a shot at Logan, which grazed his shooting arm. Marie let out a scream, as Logan yelled at her to keep going. He took aim with his other arm and managed to hit his target right in the chest. The horse stumbled and the man was thrown over onto the ground.
Marie pulled the wagon to a stop and they both hurried back down the road to investigate the damage. The man was lying in the dirt on his back, breathing hard. A dark, wet stain slowly spreading from the wound in the middle of his chest. When he took in a deep breath, it gurgled in his throat, spilling down out of the corner of his mouth, which was still twisted in that horrible grimace.
"Damn you to hell," Logan muttered before, raising his shotgun for the last time, and sending a bullet through the man's face at close range. Marie looked away, disgusted.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I didn't think it would end like this."
"All actions have consequences, Marie." He replied, wiping specs of blood from his face with the back of his sleeve. "Luckily for you, I recognize this guy. Nasty piece of work. Goes by the name of Lindsey Wofford."
"And how are you acquainted?" Maire asked.
"Wofford was the ringleader of a rival gang we teamed up with once… they screwed us over…"
Meadow came trotting over to Marie then, resting her muzzle in Marie's hair. "Hi, there girl. Ah missed you." She patted the horse's neck gently and kissed the star on her forehead.
"I suppose sometimes, if your actions are for a cause, it's worth it."
Marie just nodded, hiding the tears in the eyes in Meadow's long mane.
It was twilight by the time they reached the outskirts of the camp. It had been abandoned. And quickly. Logan held a hand up to prevent Marie from asking any questions while he scouted out the area. The Pinkertons were waiting by the doused campfire, a scant few lanterns illuminating their faces, distinguishable by their black suits and hats, the attire of funeral attendants.
"It seems the others have made a getaway. Probably executing the plan you came up with earlier."
"Should we go after them?"
"Nah. Don't wanna draw attention."
"Oh?" Marie questioned.
"Yeah, we don't wanna lead them right to us."
They decided to camp somewhere else nearby and follow the others down over the river in the morning. If they were apprehended, Marie decided they could pretend to be immigrants who spoke little English. Luckily it didn't come to that.
They set up a temporary camp near the flat plains of the lake, building a small fire and opening some of the supplies they had bought earlier that day.
Logan heated the beans and fried eggs while Marie cut bread best she could with a foldable knife Logan kept in his jacket pocket.
Once they'd eaten their meal directly from the pan, Logan poured them some coffee in the solitary tin cup they'd be sharing.
"One thing I have learnt from this life is, always carry the essentials with you, because you never know what you're going to need." He said as he passed Marie the steaming cup of tar-like coffee.
"Christ, this is thick enough ta stand a spoon in!" she grimaced as she took a sip.
"Well, it works well enough to keep me going. I'll take first watch." He took the mug back, took a swig, and placed it on a fallen log beside him.
Marie looked over to the single bed roll on a springy pile of moss. The area was well protected under a large, overhanging tree, safe from the elements and the likes of prying Pinkerton eyes.
"I think it'll be safe for us both to sleep. We've had a tiring day."
"We only have one bed." Logan helpfully pointed out.
"If you promise to be a gentleman, we can share."
"I don't want to be ruining any reputations, now" He scalded light-heartedly.
"Ah wouldn't worry about that. Ah have no reputation to protect anymore."
So they made sure the horses were contented before settling down into the bedroll, Marie comfortably pressed against Logan's wide chest.
Beside the dying fire, the stars above them were bright in the expanse of sky. The sound of the nearby stream was all they could hear.
"Logan?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you like this life?"
He paused for a long moment, almost long enough that Marie thought he'd forgotten to answer.
"It's not what I would have chosen."
Marie stared into the campfire embers, watching the scant glowing logs.
"Did you ever think about leaving them?"
"They're my family."
"Seems like that Eric guy would throw you under a stagecoach for ten dollars."
"Everyone has their shortcomings. The man practically raised me. I know him through and through. If he did, he'd have a damn good reason to."
"That's the stupid in you talking"
"There's only a few rules out here in the west; don't call a man stupid unless you want your liver carved out with a sharpened stick. Don't trust those who are not without sin, as those who claim to be free from it are lying son-o-bitches. And lastly, do not seek absolution from those who you have wronged, because they will probably give it to ya."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"Because you don't need it, one way or another."
She turned to look at him and saw wildly shifting intelligent hazel eyes staring into hers.
Tomorrow they would find the rest of the gang and evade capture, and Marie would begin her life as an outlaw, assimilating into a family who held strong morals about loyalty and friendship. Where they protected their own and made sure no one ever went hungry. And where love might one day seep into her heart.
Did you enjoy this AU Western? How's the style compared to my usual stuff? Let me know in the comments :)
