A/N: Howdy, ladies and gentlemen! Here's one last chapter before the epilogue. Beware of random bullets in the desert, and don't forget to leave a review!
Chapter 16 – The Wanted Redhead.
Christmas Eve arrived, and though it had been almost a week since Creed's attack, I still felt pretty sick – not even the Wind Rider's herbal tea was able to ease my stomach and mind. Every morning I woke up dreading the day Sheriff Summers would appear in the ranch with his fellow lawmen to make good on his promise to arrest me and the Howletts. Now, every time I heard horses approaching, my heartbeat sped up and I had to run to the nearest trash bin, or I'd make a mess on the floor.
Still, I was determined to prepare a decent meal for my surrogate family – it was the least I could do after I had endangered them with my presence. Besides, that was quite possibly the last Christmas we'd be spending in freedom, or in my case, at all. Also, Kurt had arrived that morning to return Logan's mount and enjoy the Holidays with us.
Thankfully, the horses I heard gaining the ranch's entrance that afternoon were James's. He found me in the kitchen bent over the garbage can, my face pale.
"Ya're alright, darlin'?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to control the nausea. "I'll be as soon as you tell me how it went today." Every morning that Logan left for work, which was pretty much every morning, I couldn't calm down until he came back and told me the day had been uneventful.
James fetched me a glass of water before answering, "As usual. Sam and I spent the day deliverin' bourbon… no one bothered us."
I gulped down the water, forcing myself not to throw it up, and asked, "Did you go to The White Queen?"
He sighed. "Ya know we did, Jean. Ya're sure ya don't wanna see McCoy?" he inquired in concern.
"Yes!" I retorted impatiently. I didn't need to see a doctor, I just needed to be assured that the Howletts would remain safe. "Just tell me at once, Logan… Has Emma Frost said anything regarding me?"
This time, James didn't beat around the bush. "Yes. She paid me, then put a fake smile on her face and asked how 'my sister' was since she hasn't seen ya lately."
"That rattlesnake!" I cursed. Emma knew, or at least firmly suspected, that I was the infamous Mrs. Wyngarde. She was testing Logan.
"Ya shouldn't worry, darlin'. The only way Frost could know for sure that you are Jean Wyngarde is if Summers's told her… and I suspect we wouldn't be havin' this conversation if he had. To tell ya the truth, I don't think he's told anyone about ya."
"What do you mean?" I asked. I couldn't fathom a reason why Scott would keep my confession to himself. He had made it clear that he hated me for having lied. Worst of all, he thought I had slept with him only to deceive him.
James pulled a chair and sat, resting his feet on the table before throwing his cowboy hat on it. "Think, Red… Ya're one of the most wanted criminals in the West right now – your head's worth over two grands. It's been almost a week since the sheriff's been here, and so far, not a soul's showed up to drag ya to jail."
"Logan, if you're trying to imply that Scott's suddenly forgiven me and decided not to denounce me to the Marshall, you're wrong! He believes in Jason's and Shaw's testimonies. He wouldn't even listen to my reasons!"
"Then why aren't ya behind bars, Jean?" James countered as he retrieved a flask from his pocket and tossed down some bourbon.
I hesitated. "I… I-I don't know. Maybe he's still trying to figure out where to lock me. Besides, he did say he needed to find some missing pieces before arresting me… I don't know what he meant by that."
"Or maybe he's tryin' to figure out what the hell to do with the lady he loves and has knocked up."
I froze on my spot. "Wh-what?"
Logan's eyes locked on mine. "I may have told Summers that ya're pregnant with his kid," he blurted out, then swallowed more bourbon.
"You… what?"
He sat up straight on the chair. "Come on, Red… Ya've been throwin' your guts up for a week now. Why d'ya think that's happenin'?"
I felt my neck and face burning in rage. It wasn't enough that I was already in a no-way-out situation, James had to tell Scott yet another lie – and one of a quite sensitive theme to me. "Are you out of your mind, Logan? I'm not expecting! I can't have children!"
He raised one eyebrow at me. "Any doctor's ever told ya that? 'Cause Ro's guaranteed to me that ya're pregnant, and Indians don't usually get those things wrong."
My heart began to race inside my chest. No doctor had ever given me a diagnosis of sterility simply because I had never consulted one. But in all my years being married to Jason, not once had my menses been late. I did a quick calculation in my head and realized I hadn't gotten my period since two weeks before the Thanksgiving party. I felt queasy again and had to dash to the garbage can.
I heard Logan smirking as I retched. "Told ya."
Between sobs and new rounds of vomiting, I managed to finish preparing dinner. Logan, Ororo, Kurt, Katherine, Peter, and I cleaned ourselves and sat around the kitchen table for what could very well be our last Christmas meal. Kurt said a prayer, to which we all replied 'Amen' – except for the Wind Rider, to whom Christmas had no meaning. Silently, I asked the Lord to forgive my sins and to spare my friends and unborn child from the consequences of my acts. Since it seemed like He had been listening to my prayers for the last six months, why not reiterate them that evening?
Apart from compliments on the food, we ate mostly in silence, each one of us trying to grasp the value of that meal. We had roast turkey with mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce; the dessert consisted of apple pie, and I couldn't help but wonder if Nathan was having some at his home. I missed him terribly, sometimes even more than Scott.
After dinner, Kitty and Peter left to attend the midnight mass. Logan and Kurt went to the porch to drink and smoke while Ororo helped me with the dishes.
I gathered all my courage and asked, "Are you positive I'm with child, Ro?"
"I am," she replied. "Fire Bringer's spirit… is different… lighter. You do not feel it?"
I nodded. I suppose that, deep down, I had known it already. I had been too nauseous, and too nervous, and crying much more than I was used to; plus, my breasts were larger and sore. All the signs had been there, but I guess it was just too hard to accept that I had finally gotten what I wanted, only to be murdered before having a chance to give birth to my baby.
"I can't die now, Ororo. It's not fair," I said, tears in my eyes.
She hugged me. "Fire Bringer's strong, and so is the child you carry. Death will not find you."
We spent the next hour lounging around the table, talking and drinking tea like two old friends. Ororo told me about Africa and her parents – the few things she remembered about them, details that I don't think she had revealed to anyone else before, not even James. Like me, she was a survivor. No wonder we got along so well.
Suddenly, Kitty and Peter stormed into the kitchen with Logan and Kurt in tow.
"Jean, you need to hide! Your husband's in town and he's asking questions about you!"
I stood up. "Are you sure it's Jason?"
"Yes! We saw him and his friends talking to the folks attending mass. He was showing your picture around," Katherine clarified.
"Oh God!" I cried, feeling caught already.
"Was Frost there?" Logan questioned with worry.
"Yes. We saw Mr. Wyngarde talking to her," Peter answered.
"Shit. She's gonna tell him ya're here in the ranch, Jean."
Until that morning, I had been willing to present myself to the authorities and pay for my crimes as long as no harm fell upon the Howletts. Now that I knew I was pregnant, all I could think of was staying alive to save my baby. I couldn't let them find me.
Seeing my panicked face, Ororo suggested, "We hide."
"There's only room for one of ya in the trap door, darlin'," James reasoned with her. No one needed to ask which one of us he'd rather have in there.
"I'll leave," I stated decisively. "I can't let Jason catch me, especially now. But… what about you, Logan? They're going to arrest you as an accomplice. And Kitty. And maybe even Peter."
"This ain't my first rodeo against the law, Red. They can't send me to jail unless they catch ya and prove ya ain't my sister. As for Kitty and Pete, if they ever get me, I'll say I lied to them about us bein' siblings. Just don't get caught, and ya'll have nothin' to worry about us."
I turned to Wagner next. "You should hide as well, Kurt. The Marshall knows you've helped me escape the first time. You can't be found in here!"
"And that's why I'm going with you, fräulein. You know these roads can be dangerous for a lady alone," Wagner declared, checking the load in his Winchester.
I may have been married to a scumbag, in Logan's words; yet somehow, I managed to meet the most loyal friends a woman could wish for. I gathered all of my savings, my coat, and gun, then hugged each one of them certain that I would never see their faces again.
"May the Bright Lady and the little man in gold protect you, Fire Bringer," Ororo spoke, placing the Saint Andrews medal I had gifted her months before back around my neck.
"You stay hidden, Ororo. Don't let them see you," I advised her.
I embraced James next.
"Take care, darlin'. And remember, ya ain't to blame for what happened," he said.
"Oh, Logan! You're too good to me! I should never have asked to stay with your family. I'll never forgive myself if something happens to you!"
"We'll be fine, Red. 'Sides, if ya hadn't showed up at my door lookin' like a lost puppy, Ororo wouldn't be here today. I owe ya."
"I hate to interrupt you, meine Freunde, but we should hurry."
With one last look at our friends, Wagner and I climbed on one of the stallions and sped away into the chilly night. We galloped along the dirty road to the West following the course of the Baron's Creek, completely unaware of our final destination.
About thirty minutes must have passed until we realized we were being followed. Behind the cloud of dust forming due to our fast riding, I was able to distinguish the silhouette of six horsemen.
"They're getting closer, Kurt!"
At my warning, my friend whipped the horse with more strength, urging it to ride faster. However, before we could gain more distance over our persecutors, we heard gunshots coming in our direction. Unfortunately, one bullet hit our mount on the back; the animal groaned in pain and halted abruptly, tossing me and my handbag on the dirty road. Then it snorted and dropped to the ground, burying Wagner beneath it.
With my hands and knees all scratched, I managed to stand up and hurried back to free Kurt, ignoring his pleas for me to grab the gun in my bag and run away. Taking hold of one of his arms, I desperately tried to pull him from under the horse. All of a sudden, I felt two hands gripping my arms and yanking me backwards. When I turned around, I was met with Jason's cold eyes.
"Finally!" he shouted into the air, then began to laugh like a maniac who had just escaped a madhouse. Even under the dark night, I could tell that he looked terrible – his cheeks had become bony, his hair and beard were tousled, and his winter clothes were full of holes and wrinkles. My husband was now a shadow of the charming, dandy fellow he had once been, and I have to admit I took some satisfaction in that.
I twisted in his arms, trying to free myself, but his grip only became fiercer. "You're not going anywhere this time, wife," he proclaimed, stating the last word like he owed me. It made me sick, but I refused to throw up in front of him. From the corner of my eyes, I saw five other men dismounting their horses and approaching us. The first two, I didn't know; one pair I recognized as being Donald Pierce and Harry Leland, Sebastian Shaw's long-time associates; the remaining rider was none other than Victor Creed. That's when I panicked.
"Let go of me, Jason!" I yelled. I tried to punch and kick him, to no avail.
"Never!" he responded, laughing again before declaring, "This is the best Christmas gift ever!" Then he took a moment to inspect my new appearance. "I prefer you as a redhead, dear, but I must admit you look good even as a brunette. Who would have thought?" he said, amused.
"And you look awful!" I spat childishly, knowing I would strike a nerve.
Jason gritted his teeth in anger and jerked my body closer to his. "And whose fault is it, huh? Who do you think Shaw blamed after you nearly killed him?"
"I was only-"
He didn't let me finish. "Me, Jean! He blamed me – his most loyal employee! Sebastian barely escaped your assault alive, but as soon as he recovered, he fired me, then made sure his lawyers took away most of my possessions! He even threatened to send me to jail… lest I promised to find you and deliver you to him and Selene alive," he explained, a weird grin forming on his lips. "You have no idea what I've been through while you played hide and seek in the West, Jean... the things I had to do to get to you. But now that I've found you, I'm not letting you out of my sight again – no matter how many people I have to deceive or kill. Sebastian will have his revenge, and I will have my two thousand dollars reward! It's not much comparing to the profit we would have made if you had yielded for one night, you selfish fool… but it'll help me to get back on my feet."
"Not if I get my hands on the broad first."
Jason and I turned at the sound of Creed's spine-chilling voice, only to witness the bodies of the two unknown horsemen sequentially hitting the ground. One had his throat sliced from one side to the other, his face and chest all splattered with blood as he convulsed on the road; the second had a bullet where his left eye used to be not a second before. I don't know if I felt more scared or nauseated at that moment. I risked a glance at Kurt, noticing that he was praying quietly.
Leland and Pierce pointed their guns at Creed. The crook made a show of blowing the smoke off his peacemaker in response.
"What do you think you're doing, you animal?" Jason inquired, releasing one of my arms but keeping a firm grip around the other. "I've paid you to take me to my wife, not to slaughter my men!"
Creed shrugged. "Guess I changed my mind," he replied, face hidden under the brim of his hat. "Why would I help ya to get rich when I can have the two grand for myself, huh? 'Sides, the frail and I have a score to settle," he announced, his dark mean eyes moving up to rest on my face. Unconsciously, I hid behind my husband's skinny body.
"What do you say we put a hole in this hick's forehead, Wyngarde?" Pierce proposed.
"Ya could try, pretty boy, but your arm will be detached from your body before ya think of pullin' that trigger," Creed responded, addressing Leland next. "The same applies to ya, fat ball."
Judging by his size and the small distance between him and what was left of Jason's crew, I was sure Creed's threats weren't empty – a cold-blooded murderer like himself could slay the three dandies in the blink of an eye. Then he would be over Kurt and me to savor his revenge with refinements of cruelty; of course, that would only be the beginning of my torment, because once he decided he was done with us, he would take me to the Shaws and get the whole bounty to himself. I couldn't foresee a darker destiny for me and my unborn baby.
Enveloped in sheer fear, I didn't hear horses approaching. Jason whispered, "don't you try anything funny, Mr. Creed," and ordered his companions to put down their guns. That made me look ahead, and that's when I saw two mounted men staring at us. One carried a golden star on his chest that I would have recognized even if I were blind; the other was his partner, Lucas Bishop.
"What's going on, gentlemen?" Scott questioned as he climbed down his horse, his eyes avoiding mine.
"I'm glad you asked, Sheriff. I'm Jason Wyngarde, a lawyer from New York. I was about to take my wife home when this maniac killed two of my associates," my husband explained, pointing a finger at Creed.
"Ya're a dead man, Wyngarde. Ya all are," the blonde outlaw menaced angrily.
"And you are supposed to be behind bars, Mr. Creed. We had a warranty issued on your head the day you attacked Miss Howlett," the deputy notified.
"Well, it seems ya're misinformed, Mr. Bishop, 'cause the Marshall's annulled my warranty. Also, the broad ain't the runt's sister, but his little slut," Creed announced, then snorted. "Guess ya should know that your wife's been everyone's slut in Fredericksburg, Wyngarde. Ain't that right, Sheriff?"
I couldn't see Scott's reaction because Creed's words prompted Jason to strengthen his grip on me. He held my arms with both his hands again and forced me to look at him. "So, you refused to let Shaw take you, only to sleep with every other stranger in this hellhole? How foolish are you, Jean? We could've been millionaires by now, you stupid cow!" he shouted in my face.
I could no longer stand the humiliation. My eyes welled up and I yelled, "I'm not for sale, Jason! I'm not a toy you can lend around to please your rich friends in exchange of favors!"
My husband sneered at me. "Oh, now you have morals? As far as I remember, Jean, you loved to be around my rich friends. You loved the clothes, the drinks, the parties… you enjoyed every bit of that life as much as I did! I can't even recall how many deals I've closed because you agreed to a little flirting with my business associates! We were 'partners in crime', remember?"
"Sleeping with Sebastian Shaw is not a little flirting!" I screamed. "We were married, for Christ's sake!"
"Correction – we are married. And Sebastian had my consent. Jesus, Jean… How many times do you think I've slept around during our marriage? Besides, you've always wanted a baby, and I could never give you one. Who knows, maybe Shaw would have been able to grant you that wish… It could have been a winning deal for both of us."
Jason's words were so sick and absurd that, for a moment, I forgot we had an audience. "Th-that means that you… you can't have children."
"I can't. I had two doctors confirm it. Plus, no woman has ever sought me out demanding money for her fatherless child."
"B-But… you never told me. I-I thought that I…" I placed a hand on my stomach, and suddenly I remembered that Scott was there. Through moist eyes, I looked up at his face. He was watching me.
"That's all very movin', but I found the lady and I'm the one takin' her to the Shaws," Creed declared with one gun in each hand, his arms stretched in different directions – one to Leland and Pierce, the other to me and Jason. My husband, like the coward he was, positioned myself in front of him to use me as a human shield. Without letting anyone see it, he retrieved a revolver from his coat and pressed it against my right temple. I stiffened immediately.
Scott reached for his gun and gave a step forward while Bishop cocked both his revolvers and pointed one to Creed and one to us. Given the darkness of the night, I doubted that any of them could shoot Jason without me getting hurt in the process. I was doomed, whoever the first shooter was.
"Jean's only worth to the Shaws alive," my husband announced, treating me once again like merchandise. "Now, stay right where you are and throw your guns in the creek, gentlemen, or I will blow her brains out."
The sheriff and the deputy did as they were told. Creed didn't move.
"Ya're bluffin'," he countered.
"He's not!" Scott yelled. "You don't have an aim, Victor. Don't shoot!"
The crook smirked. "Yeah, I do. And Wyngarde is a milksop – he is bluffin'."
He fired twice with the gun in his left hand, striking Leland and Pierce in the head.
"No!" the sheriff and the deputy shouted as two dead bodies hit the ground. Crying harder, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the fatal blow. Thankfully, Jason didn't pull the trigger.
Creed grinned. "I knew it. Now," he said, slowly walking in our direction at the same time that Jason pulled me backwards, "ya're gonna hand me the woman. In exchange, I'll let ya get outta here alive."
"I uh… I-I can't. I-I won't. Jean's my way out of this miserable life," Jason stuttered. He was trembling from head to toe, and I feared he would inadvertently fire the revolver he had pressed against my temple. "Sheriff, you need to do something!" he demanded. "Shoot the bastard!"
"I don't have my gun, Wyngarde!" Scott yelled from where he was standing. "Either you drop yours, or you shoot Creed with it! Otherwise, Creed will shoot you."
"No!" Jason yelled back. I knew he didn't have the courage to let go of me in order to properly aim his weapon at Creed, who kept approaching us. "One more step, and I'll kill Jean," he threatened again.
"No, ya won't," Victor replied, a cruel smirk on his face.
"Jason, just shoot Creed already!" Bishop advised from afar.
Abruptly, my husband stopped dragging us backwards, and I realized he had his back against one of the horses. Creed was now only six feet apart from us, one gun in each hand.
"Wyngarde, you're cornered! Drop the gun or shoot him now! Trust me, it's the only way," Scott shouted.
Panicked, Jason pushed me to the ground so he could aim his revolver at our assailant. He fired five times, missing the target in all the attempts. Creed's sadistic smile broadened as he raised his right arm. "Ya just signed your death certificate, city boy."
And then, the unexpected happened. Two bullets pierced Victor Creed's back, sending him to his knees barely two feet apart from Jason's shaking figure. He dropped both of his guns as blood started to pour from his mouth.
Behind Creed's moribund form, I recognized a short but muscular silhouette approaching us with a rifle in hand. I swear to God, seeing Logan's scowl had never made me so happy before. He moved in front of his long-time rival, steading him by his collar, and hissed, "I warned ya years ago to keep away from my family, Creed." Then, he pressed the Henry Repeater against the crook's forehead and pulled the trigger one last time. "Ya mess with the best, ya die with the rest, ya scumbag."
By now, both Scott and Bishop had caught up to us, but it was James who addressed me first. "Ya're okay, darlin'?"
I nodded. Slowly, I managed to stand on my two trembling feet. However, before I could run to Logan's arms, Jason pulled me to him, revolver still in hand. "Thank you for your help, gentlemen, but I'm taking my wife away now," he spoke.
"The hell ya are!" James retorted, pointing his rifle at him.
"Look, fella, I appreciate that you've saved my life. I can mail you a compensation for your troubles if that's what this is about. But now, we really need to be hitting the road."
"I don't want your money, ya bastard! Now let go of Jean or I-"
"Logan, no one else needs to get shot tonight," Scott cut in, boldly pushing the barrel of the Henry Repeater aside to step between James and my husband. "Mr. Wyngarde, I'm going to ask you nicely… please, release Mrs. Wyngarde."
Jason scoffed. "Why would I do that, Sheriff? Jean's my wife; I can take her wherever I want, whenever I want," he said.
"A word of advice, pal – a good husband doesn't put his wife's honor for sale," Scott replied, to my surprise.
"What do you care, Sheriff? We're talking about a wanted criminal here… a murderer. My boss happens to be a good friend of the Marshall, and they're both expecting our return. Now step aside and let us go!"
Scott remained on his spot. "I'm the law around here, Mr. Wyngarde. Hand Jean to me now. That's an order."
"May I remind you, Sheriff, that I'm the one still holding a gun?" my husband said defiantly. "I understand that you've screwed my wife once or twice, but that doesn't grant you any rights over her. I'm taking Jean with me, and there's nothing you can-"
Jason never finished his sentence. Actually, he never uttered a word again, because Scott punched him so hard in the jaw that he fell to the ground and hit his head on a rock. I was released in the process but was too shocked to put an end to what was about to happen. I could only watch as the sheriff straddled my husband's thighs and continued to beat him on the floor.
"That's the mother of my baby you're talking about, you son of a bitch!" Scott exclaimed while punching Jason's face until it became an unrecognizable mass of blood and teeth. "This should teach you… to never… mistreat a lady… again," he pronounced between punches.
I was horrified by the scene, and yet I couldn't look away. After a moment, Sheriff Summers seemed to comprehend that my husband was way past dead. He stood up, cleaned his bloodied hands on a handkerchief, and walked to where I was standing.
"Are you alright?" he asked me, his words filled with concern.
"Y-Yes," I stammered.
From afar, we heard Kurt shouting, "Is it over? Can someone finally give me a hand?", and I suddenly remembered that my friend was still buried under that horse. Logan, Bishop, and I started to move in his direction, but Scott held me in place with a gentle grip of my shoulders.
"Logan told me about the baby. Is it true?"
"It is," I nodded. "And I'm keeping it."
"I'd never ask you not to," he replied, his blood-smeared hands moving from my shoulders to cup my face. "God, Jean, I'm sorry I didn't believe you. It had never crossed my mind that a husband could be so… cruel to his own wife. I'm glad you defended yourself from Shaw," he stated, then motioned with his head to Jason's body on the ground. "I'm sorry you had to witness that."
I felt my eyes watering up again. "Scott… I'm so sorry that I lied to you. I-I love you and I… I-I never meant to hurt you or Nathan. I was just… I was trying to stay alive."
"I know that now, darling. I understand. It's all right," he said to me softly, his hands descending to my elbows. "You know, I've always found it odd that Marshall Lehnsherr would be so invested in finding the redhead on Shaw's behalf. So I did a little researching and discovered that he and Sebastian Shaw were partners in some trading enterprise – yet I couldn't find out what kind of merchandise they were trading. When the word got out that Lehnsherr had annulled the warranty I had put on Victor Creed, I decided to investigate him instead. I discovered that Creed was dealing opium – and guess who has been paying him? Logan confirmed my suspicious the day he sought me out to tell me about the baby."
"So, you figured what kind of men they Lehnsherr and Shaw are. That's why you never returned to arrest me."
"That, and the fact that I'm in love with you and that you're pregnant with my child," he revealed, a faint smile appearing on his handsome face. "I knew that Creed had left town after he tried to assault you, so I didn't need to worry about him for a while. But last night, I spotted him by the church making a deal with some outsiders. I saw them showing your picture around at mass and I finally understood who they were. I knew that Emma was going to tell them to search in the ranch, since she's been insisting for days that I should arrest you because she's convinced that Laura Howlett is the wanted redhead."
"She's not wrong," I commented.
"Well, I think she is, because the Miss Howlett I know would never flirt with rich men – she even turned Warren Worthington the Third down," the sheriff recalled, earning a smile from me. "Anyway, Lucas and I went to the ranch to warn you, but by the time we got there, you had already left with your Bavarian friend."
"Kurt," I said. "He's name is Kurt Wagner. He's a good man."
"Kurt Wagner," Scott repeated. "I guess I owe him a 'thank you' for keeping you safe. In any case, when Jason and his men arrived at the ranch, they didn't find anyone in there – we were all hidden in the corn crops. Of course, they figured you had run away and followed your horse's footprints to the road. Logan, Lucas, and I followed theirs, but we agreed that Logan wouldn't show himself at first; instead, he would stay behind, hidden with his rifle in case we needed a long-distance shot."
"Is that why you kept telling Jason to drop his gun? So that Logan could have a better aim and shoot him?"
"Partially, yes. But my main concern was that he had a revolver pressed to your head. I wasn't sure he wasn't going to pull the trigger if he heard another gunshot. That's why Logan couldn't shoot Creed until you were out of sight."
"I wasn't sure either," I confessed, my voice choked with emotion. Noticing it, Scott pulled me into a tight embrace, and I allowed myself to cry in the arms of the man I loved until I had no more tears left.
James and Bishop returned after having freed Kurt at last. He was limping a little due to a swollen ankle, but other than that, Wagner seemed like his old, merry self. He handed me my lost handbag.
"What an adventure, huh?" he said to me.
I hugged him, then James. After that, I turned to Mr. Bishop and thanked him.
"It's my pleasure, m'am. Sebastian Shaw comes from a long lineage of slaveholders; anyone who dares to defy him and his family deserves my respect," he told me.
In the meantime, Scott was talking to Kurt. He asked if my friend had a safe place in mind for us to hide. Wagner didn't, so the sheriff retrieved a map from his pocket and pointed to a location.
"Take Jean to this place, Mr. Wagner. It's mine, but no one here knows I owe it. It's a twelve-day trip on horse's back, but you'll be safe once you get there," Scott assured. He also gave Kurt a small, black bag. "This should be enough to cover your expenses."
"Ya want them to leave now?"
"The sooner, the better, Logan. Creed and Wyngarde may be dead, but Lehnsherr and Shaw aren't – they'll keep looking for Jean. Besides, Emma knows Laura's true identity, which makes Fredericksburg a dangerous town for her to be in right now."
"What about all these corpses, Scott?" Bishop asked him.
The sheriff glanced at his watch, then up at the sky. "It's nearly three in the morning, fellas, which means we have about four hours to bury them before the sun rises."
"Not necessarily, Summers. We only need to bury Creed. The outsiders were seen with him throughout the evenin' – no one in town will question if ya report that a scum like Victor Creed murdered them, then ran away with their cash. 'Sides, no one gives a shit about these goons around here."
"You're right, Logan. If their wallets were stolen, they can't be identified. That means they'll be thrown in a common grave and buried as indigents – regarding that someone finds their bodies before the vultures and the coyotes," Scott concluded. He looked at me next. "Are you okay with your husband's body being left in the open, Jean?"
I didn't respond. Instead, I walked to where Jason's corpse was and retrieved his wallet from his coat. Bishop and Logan followed suit, doing the same to the other four men that Creed had killed.
I handed Jason's wallet to Scott. "Will I see you again?" I asked, even though I was terrified of the answer.
"Of course, my love. I promise you, as soon as I have everything handled in Fredericksburg, Nathan and I will meet you in Carlsbad."
"What should I do until then?"
"Take care of yourself and the baby, Jean. Don't take risks."
"I love you, Scott."
"And I love you."
We kissed under the full moon, pouring all our love for each other in that one kiss. For once, being with Scott Summers didn't make me feel guilty. He knew who I was and what I had done to survive. He understood my choices, and regardless of them, he loved and respected me.
Holding my hand, Scott guided me to a mare that had belonged to one of Jason's men. He helped me to climb it, then placed his wool coat over my back. Next, he stared at Kurt, who had just mounted another horse.
"Take good care of Jean, Mr. Wagner, and I promise I'll take care of your family in the future."
"You don't have to say it twice, mein Freund," Kurt replied.
Bathed by the moonlight, Scott, Logan, and Bishop stood side by side to wave us goodbye. With tears in my eyes, I whipped the horse and followed Kurt once again into the unknown West.