Maka didn't want to go back. Not to that bramble-covered and blood-drenched river bed. Justin offered to go back alone, but the thought of them being separated was even worse. So they made their way back, following the winding banks until they spotted Black Star wearily leading a string of horses. Only it wasn't their horses. It took Maka a moment to realize where they had come from.
"I couldn't find our mounts on foot, they must have spooked pretty bad. I found their tracks, if we head east I'm sure we can find them." Black Star says with confidence as he hands Maka the reins of a sturdy black mare.
"Are we truly robbing from the dead?" She asks, her voice stuck in her throat.
"Those men are gone, but the horses are still alive. It might seem heartless to take a dead man's horse, but it'd be cruel to leave them here." Justin says evenly, swinging up onto his own borrowed horse.
He was right, of course, but Maka couldn't help feeling sordid as she climbed into the saddle of another man's horse.
"Are we going to bury them?" Maka whispers, her eyes on the ridge where the body of the man she had shot still lay. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there. His glassy eyes, void, and piercing, asking her why, the look of shock still frozen on his face.
"No. We bury the ones we love, and leave the rest to God and the animals." Justin says gently, spurring his horse forward. It sounded harsh to her, but this land was like that. You had to be tough and have calluses on your hands and your heart to survive.
They rode out of the ravine, and headed due east, in search of their own horses. Though Maka hoped to never see the horrible place again, she felt compelled to watch the river bed and small stand of trees as it disappeared over the horizon.
Justin filled Black Star in as they rode, sparing no details other than leaving the part out about her true gender. Black Star seemed both solemn and proud at the story's end. He slapped her on the back fondly, grateful that she had been quick on her feet. They were alive, and that's what mattered the most.
It took them a while to gather their own frightened horses, and it took them even longer to track down the spooked cattle. The sun was on its downward descent, the sky turning dusky as they arrived at camp. It was tucked into a small valley, sheltered by a small stand of trees and a lazy winding creek, it was a welcoming sight. Cowboys and horses milled about, there were more horses than men and even more cattle. A great shifting crush of horns and mottled hides grazed not far from the camp. Maka had never seen so many animals in one place.
This would be their makeshift home for the next few weeks. It wasn't much to look at, a few wagons and tents dotting the great expanse of grassland, but Maka felt a flood of relief.
They had made it. They were safe.
She felt the weight of the long and oppressive day she had been carrying lift some. She felt thankful to be alive, to be a part of something so big. Everyone greeted them with loud yipping and big smiles as they rode into camp.
"Ho the camp!" Black Star shouts back enthusiastically. "Where's the boss?"
Someone Maka doesn't recognize replies, "He's still out gathering, saw him about half an hour ago to the south!"
"You two get some clean clothes and some grub, you've earned it." Black star says, eyeing her and Justin like they might keel over from exhaustion.
Maka feels that he is not wrong in assuming. There are harsh lines at the corners of Justin's eyes and even though they washed in the river bed as best they could there's still a base layer of grime and grit. His wounds are not seeping like they were, but he still needs them cleaned and looked after.
"I'm heading out to find the boss, he needs to know what happened today." Black Star says wearily.
He rides out of camp, his shoulders hunch slightly.
"I've never seen Black Star like this. He's always been so energetic." Maka confesses, her stomach in a tight knot. She's worried about him. About Justin too. It's almost surprising how fond she has grown of her ragtag family of cowboys. She worries and cares for them like she's known them her whole life and not only a few months. Justin looks thoughtful as he pulls a new set of clothes from his saddlebags. Maka quickly does the same.
"Black Star is a good man. Self-defense is a common thing here, but that doesn't make it any easier. Killing another man can take a toll on the heart."
Maka places a hand over her breast, inwardly listening to its steady rhythm. Her heart was still going, in exchange for the ceasing of another's.
"I think I can understand the heaviness, I feel it too."
"That heaviness won't last forever."
Justin waves his hand, motioning for her to follow him. They head to the creek, walking in silence. The trees welcome them with breathy sighs and creaking limbs. Maka sighs deeply, breathing in the pine-scented air. The prairie, though beautiful, was wide open and seemed never-ending sometimes. It made her feel so small, like being on the ocean.
"You wash up first, I'll keep watch for you," Justin offers, startling Maka out of her thoughts.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly." Maka stammers, feeling suddenly very insecure.
"I promise to be a gentleman. My back will be turned the whole time."
Maka is stunned, not knowing what to say, but she smiles broadly up at him.
"Thank you. You're a good man, Justin."
He clears his throat and turns away, clearly not used to receiving compliments. Feeling pleased, Maka makes her way down the gentle green slope and stops at the waters babbling edge. The trees seclude her nicely, but she isn't fooled by the false privacy. She is very thankful for her impromptu lookout. True to his word his back is to her, his eyes roving the camp for any potential trespassers. Maka strips quickly, not wanting to linger longer than necessary. With the sunlight fading, Maka slips into the icy waist-high water with chattering teeth. She scrubs furiously at her skin and hair, then drags her ruined clothes into the water and tries in vain to clean them as well. She abandons the notion quickly enough, her body is nearly frozen solid as she sloshes out of the river. She has no towel to dry, but her spare clothes are warm and soft as she slips them on. Wet, but feeling much better and more like herself again she clambers up the slope to where Justin is waiting for her.
"Feel better?" He asks.
"Oh yes, good as new." Maka chirps, her cheeks rosy from the cold.
"Are you going to wash too?" Maka asks eyeing his filthy clothes.
"I suppose I ought to."
"I'll wait here and be a lookout for you too." Maka states and promptly turns her back to him.
Justin chuckles as he turns toward the river.
"What's so funny?" She calls, keeping her eyes on the purple-tinged gloam of the sunset. She hears the tell-tale sound of splashing before he answers.
"I just find it funny. You're a very modest person, forced to spend a large amount of time with a bunch of indecent cowboys. I reckon the irony of it makes me laugh."
"I wouldn't say indecent, perhaps just rough around the edges." Maka jokes lightly.
"Make no mistake about it, all men are devils to a certain degree."
"All of you? That can't be. What about Soul, I feel that he doesn't quite fit in that category."
Justin emerges from the trees, nearly scaring the daylights out of Maka. He's freshly bathed and sporting a knowing smile.
"Soul huh? He's a gentleman yes, but also a scoundrel. Or did you forget who gave you that shiner on your face?"
Maka gingerly touches the fading bruise under her eye. Her thoughts seem to always drift back to Soul somehow. Shaking her head she changes the subject quickly.
"We are friends? Are we not?" She asks rather bluntly. Justin grunts in surprise but nods his head.
Maka hedges carefully. "What was your profession before being a cowpuncher, Justin? For being friends, I'm afraid I don't know much about you."
Justin scratches his head in thought, a far-off gleam in his eyes. Maka wonders if he will answer her questions or if she has overstepped herself. Justin stretches his legs out as they walk back towards camp and weaves her a melancholy story. "I used to be a traveling preacher in the Missouri territory."
"What? Surely you jest?! No offense meant, but a preacher? You don't seem like a "holier than thou" kind of man." Maka questions, looking him up and down thoroughly. Justin almost laughs at her blatant shock.
"No offense taken, that was a long time ago. I was a different man back then. There was a time when I was married to a sweet young gal, with hair the color of a raven and eyes as blue as the sky. We were poor, with only prayers and a head full of great big dreams to get us through. They were the happiest days of my life though." He murmurs, his eyes a little misty.
"What happened?" Maka whispers, not sure she wants to hear the rest, but knowing she must.
"She was taken from me. One day we're sleeping under the stars, talking about how many children we're going to have, the next I'm burying her in the ground."
Maka understands all too well the pain of losing a loved one. There are never any words of comfort quite right. So instead she places her hand on his arm and squeezes it.
The gesture is not lost on him, he smiles and pats her hand. Maka wants to ask him more, about his wife, their life, and how he ended up in Texas, but now was not the right time. Justin was much like a river; calm on the surface, but also murky with many unknown twists and turns. Getting to know him better and all the other cowboys as well would take almost a lifetime, one that she dearly hopes she gets to experience. Her greatest wish was to be able to stay forever.
It all relied upon her ruse. She was gambling at a losing game, and she didn't know how long until someone saw through her poker face. Tsubaki had known right away, and her new friend Blair as well. This was the first time a male had discovered her secret though. Justin had uncovered it very easily.
But how?
Maka glances around warily before speaking in a hushed tone. Luckily, no one was in earshot of them.
"What gave my gender away?" She whispers. "Did I make a mistake I wasn't aware of?"
"Oh, I wouldn't call it a mistake." Justin smiles at her, an easy smile tinged with amusement.
"I had my suspicions when we first met, but I couldn't be sure. You were very good at keeping me guessing. It was your keen interest in a certain cowboy that finally gave you away."
Maka stops abruptly, mortified by his remark. She tries to speak, to defend herself, to deny it, but her voice has abandoned her. She bows her head and covers her face with her hands. Her face is hot to the touch.
"I have no idea what you're talking about..."
Justin's body shakes with silent laughter. "You tend to blush a lot around him."
Maka looks up at him and scowls in mock anger. "I do not!"
Justin's eyes cut to the prairie and his mouth quirks.
"Speaking of which, here he comes."
Maka turns her eyes to the distance, a rider was galloping in like the devil was on his heels. He was far off still, but she'd recognize the gleam of that alabaster hair anywhere.
Somewhere in her muddled mind, she knew she would have to see him eventually, but his sudden appearance has left her breathless. Trying not to think about him all day has made her weary, and now she cannot ignore it any longer. The dull ache that has been in her heart all day has lifted. It's clear and almost painfully undeniable that she's happy to see him.
Her heart kicks up a tempo that matches the drumming of hooves as the horse and rider get closer.
"Careful, your face is very transparent when it comes to the boss," Justin warns.
Maka wills her face to not flush, and Justin laughs quietly at the pure effort it is taking her.
"You look jumpier than a frog in a skillet."
"I don't know how to act. I feel as if my behavior is giving me away. You can read my face, plain as day. Oh Sweet Jesus, what if he can too?" Maka moans in distress, her face betraying her in waves of scarlet.
"Don't fret too much. Not everyone is as studious as I am. You're damn lucky Soul is so dense."
Maka wrings her hands together, then runs them madly against her jeans. If she had been wearing a skirt she surely would have twisted it to pieces in her hands.
"How am I to act around him though? Surely you have some deep insight or wisdom to give me on the matter?"
Justin gives her a half-smile and pats her on the back.
"Just be yourself."
"That's terrible advice. He started out hating me."
Justin shrugs his big shoulder and shoots her an easy smile.
"He doesn't anymore though."
With no more words of questionable advice, the cowboy pivots and leaves Maka with her thoughts.
"That's right. We are friends now." Maka murmurs quietly as she watches Soul draw near the camp. At least there was some solace in that thought.
Men and cattle barrel out of his way as he comes galloping into the camp. His horse is sweaty and he doesn't look much better himself. His hair is crazier than usual, he is caked from head to toe in dust, and from where she is standing Maka can make out the harsh frown lines on his face. Without slowing his pinto down, he dismounts in one fluid motion and hits the ground nearly running. His long strides eat up the ground and Maka's heart beats wildly when she realizes he is coming straight for her.
"Kid!" He gasps, mildly winded. His face is concerned and his eyes touch her up and down. He spins her around once, then twice. Then, to Maka's horror, he starts running his hands all over her. He is checking her for wounds and making sure she is whole and unharmed, but his gentle hands sliding down her arms is the worst kind of torture. She backpedals quickly, putting much-needed space between them.
"I'm fine." She inhales slowly, trying to slow her racing heart. Soul drops his hands back to his sides, his face which is usually so stoic is transparent now, a melee of emotions passing.
"Were you hurt?"
"No, I assure you that I am fine. Or as you cowboys say, I'm right as rain." She says, plastering on what she hopes is a confident smile.
Soul's eyes narrow. His ability to see through her is almost unnatural. To lay her open and read her like the pages of a well-read book, is both a foreign concept and a touching sentiment. Not one of her so-called friends in England could claim such a skill. Soul was no ordinary friend though.
"If you ask me, I think you're not fine at all." He grunts, and grabs her by the shirt collar. Maka is so surprised by the swift action she lets him pull her along without protest. He hauls her towards the makeshift camp and cowboys scatter in their wake. They wind their way through a small city of tents, some already erected, others still setting up. The sun has completely gone down now and the stars have started to show themselves in the night sky.
Soul releases his hold on her shirt and ducks into an unmarked tent, motioning for her to follow him. It is a small tent, made of oiled canvas and only tall enough for her to stand, while Soul has to bend at the waist to avoid hitting his head.
"Sit," he orders, then more gently he adds, "Please."
Maka obliges and sinks onto the grassy floor of the tent. He lights a small lantern and rummages around in his pack, cussing lightly under his breath. He pulls out a small tin box and kneels next to her, so close that the rasp of his knee brushing hers is loud in the silence.
"I'm going to bandage you up, kid. And while I do, I want you to tell me everything that happened." He says, his handsome face serious.
Maka nods and swallows audibly. His fingers are surprisingly gentle as he patches her up. He swabs something that smells suspiciously like whiskey over the bridge of her nose and cheeks, it burns every cut on her face. She is glad for the dim lantern light that disguises her unease. His very presence, though strong and steady, unsettles her. She couldn't name or number all the emotions he aroused in her breast. But two feelings she did recognize all too well: fear and fascination.
"Talk, kid." Soul hums again, reminding her of where she is. Maka begins her story, hesitantly at first, then it comes out rushed and turbulent, every word portraying her fear and anguish. Soul listens quietly as he tends to her. He already knows what happened, Black Star had filled him in, but still, he lets her speak, encourages her to release everything with her words. He knows that no amount of reassurance on his part will help her find comfort. So he listens, as she mourns the life of a man she didn't know, a man who had tried to take her own life.
He places a small bandage on her forehead, it is a shallow cut, but he is trying to keep his hands busy and keep her talking. He is mending the abrasions on the surface and also the wounds that no one else can see, buried deeper within herself. It is no surprise that Soul can see the damage and understand it without saying a single word. He too has wounds no one else can see.
As her story comes to the conclusion, her eyes are wet, and her face has more bandages than needed, but the remedy has taken its effect. Talking about it, saying everything out loud to him, without question or judgment on his part, has healed her in the oddest of ways. He carefully packs his tin of medicine and bandages away and stows it safely back among his meager belongings.
"I'm pretty proud of you, kid. I'm thankful you chose to live. I'm glad you're still here." He says softly.
"Thank you, Evans, for... everything."
The words dried up in her mouth as he takes a step closer to her. He is retrieving the lantern next to her, but once again he was far too close. She watches a bead of sweat form below his ear to run down his neck and disappear into the open faded blue collar of his shirt. She cinched her mouth tight because it keeps wanting to open with her strained breath.
The tent feels too small, too intimate.
"I have to go." Maka squeaks abruptly as she jumps up.
Unfortunately, her boots get tangled up in his and cause her to sway. She stumbles out of the tent in her rush for more air, air that they weren't sharing. She lands on her back, cushioned by the verdant prairie grass, a thousand stars above her. Soul's face looms over her blocking out the sky.
"You're the weird person I know kid, and that's saying a lot," he says chuckling at her expense.
"I know." Maka half moans as she throws one arm over her face.
She wishes very stolidly that the ground would swallower her up, along with her shame. Soul reaches out a hand to help her up and after much consideration she accepts it. She lets his hand go quickly once she is righted, but against her better judgment, she finds his gaze and holds it. The moment is sharp and strong, like the undercurrent of a rainstorm. Soul looks away swiftly, obviously uncomfortable with the eye contact.
Maka realizes that she is walking on a very narrow line. They are becoming good friends, he may even be her very best friend. But the sad truth is, that's all that they will ever be. He sees her as a male and nothing more. She cannot reach out to him, even if she wanted to. She is lying to him, even now, after he has shown her nothing but kindness. To keep her secret, she must corral her emotions. No matter how she feels about the man, she can never tell him of her feelings.
He has become very dear to her, and the thought of losing him is excruciating.
"Goodnight, Evans." She says turning swiftly away, hoping against hope, he can't see the pain on her face or hear the tearing of her heart.
"Goodnight, kid," he calls after her retreating from, his voice snatched away by the lonely prairie wind.
Soul sits in front of his tent and watches the kid leave.
He is weaving and tripping over his own feet. He nearly takes out a picket line as he bumbles through the tents. This clumsy kid had somehow, probably with divine help, cheated death today.
It's enough to make his chest tight with worry.
A strong urge to protect and shelter the kid from unknown dangers takes hold of him.
The kid's voice had a wobble and his eyes had leaked at the corners, but he had been calm and level-headed while reliving the whole ordeal.
Soul knew he would be alright.
He prays that the kid would never have to go through something like that again. Soul cards his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture. He feels guilty for not being there when the kid and his men needed him the most. He knows he shouldn't feel so responsible for the kid, but he does. A heavy feeling sits in his stomach, like a solid stone. Soul paces in front of his tent, wearing a path through the fragrant buffalo grass and the spring meadowsweet.
The kid was safe now... So why did he still feel so riled up?
Maybe it was the look that had passed between them that had left him feeling not right. The kid had looked him dead in the eye as if he was trying to communicate something left unsaid. He was probably reading too much into it though, if anything it was just his imagination. The kid really did have the darndest colored eyes though. He couldn't put his finger on it, but they truly unsettled him. Like looking into a lake and seeing the greenest trees mirrored back in its depths. He had known the kid for some time now, but he predicts he will never grow accustomed to the kid's strange eyes.
Maka doesn't know where she is going, but she doesn't slow down in the slightest. She is practically fleeing at this point. Not from Soul so much as from the emotions he rouses within her. She could have stayed with him longer, spoke with him, and listened to his hushed voice as he spoke. She could have stayed all night and listened to him... But that was the problem, wasn't it?
It was dangerous to spend too much time together. She concludes, as she weaves through the dark city of tents, that she should limit her time alone with him in the future.
Maka trusts her nose instead of her eyes to navigate, the fresh smell of coffee brewing guiding her. The crackle of a small campfire and a few familiar faces greet her as she emerges from the camp. Black Star, Justin, and Tad sit on the ground, their feet propped up, their saddles and blankets used as backrests. Justin scoots over a bit, a silent invitation for her to join them. Maka plops down in the lush grass and stretches out her legs. They all look like hell, but she is glad to see them. Being with her friends temporarily sooths the turbulence being with Soul has caused her.
Black Star pulls the coffee pot off the fire and pours her a steaming cup.
"Thank you, she murmurs as she accepts the blue tin cup from him.
The days are extremely warm, but the night air feels chilly against her skin; she is thankful as she wraps her hands around the hot cup. The coffee smells fragrant, but it looks rather black and thick. The look on her face makes Black Star laugh.
"Out here we make it strong enough to float a horseshoe."
"We need it for the cowboys who have watch tonight," Justin adds quietly.
"Watch?" Maka asks as she dubiously sniffs her coffee.
"We take shifts watching the cows and keeping the camp safe."
Maka fidgets with her cup as she thinks of the bandits. She will sleep better tonight knowing someone is keeping watch. She takes a small sip of her coffee and grimaces. It's a far cry from Tsubaki's coffee with milk and sugar, but it warms her bones. Black Star laughs and elbows her, nearly making her spill the cup's contents.
"That will definitely put some hair on you your chest English."
Maka nearly spits her coffee out in surprise and tries to fight the urge to look down at her chest.
"It's just an expression." Justin chuckles softly beside her, obviously enjoying her distress.
"You should probably drink the whole pot, I doubt you have any hair on your chest." Tad grins cheekily at her. "Hell, I bet you don't even have hair on your nut-sack!" He crows.
"Tad! What'd I tell about saying words like that? If the boss catches you saying shit like that he'll have my head!" Black Star barks, looking mighty annoyed with the young boy.
"Tad's chin tilts stubbornly, but he remains silent at Black Star's scolding. His little face is dirty, the smattering of freckles on his nose nearly hidden beneath the grime. His reddish-brown hair is almost wild enough to rival Soul's. Maka wonders for the first time what his story is. Why is he here, growing up among the rough and tumble cowboys. Did he not have parents or a family elsewhere? She feels a small pang of pity for the young boy, her chest arching.
"What are you looking at dummy?" He sneers, catching her in the act of staring.
Maka bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, the boy obviously trying to act tough and grown-up.
"Oh nothing, I was just admiring the color of your hair, it reminds me of fall leaves."
Tad's face turns a dark shade of red at her words, though she cannot tell if it's from embarrassment or anger. She guesses the latter, seeing the defiant gleam in his blue eyes.
"I truly didn't mean to offend you," Maka assures him while trying to ignore Black Star and Justin's amused looks.
"Well your hair is the color of horse piss and you sound like a jackass!" The boy yelled, jumping to his feet, his fists balled and shaking. Maka opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Never in her life had anyone said such things to her. She has obviously struck a nerve with the boy.
"I... I didn't mean..."
"Stop!" He shouts cutting her off. "You're dull as dishwater, ugly, and I hate you!" He shouts before turning and running out of sight.
Black Star and Justin are no longer smiling and a bizarre silence seeps in.
"What did I say to upset him so?" Maka finally asks.
Black Star sighs heavily like his patience is running thin with the boy.
"He's sensitive about his hair."
"His hair?"
"The color of his hair, he really hates it." Justin elaborates.
"I didn't mean to hurt his feelings so badly. I thought his hair a fine color."
"He's too tender about it if you ask me. Black Star snorts. "He wants to be treated like an adult, but he throws tantrums like a brat."
"It's our job to help him become an adult. And I'm not sure we're doing such a good job at it." Justin says, his voice subdued.
"Where is his family?" Maka asks softly.
"You're lookin' at it. We're all he has. That's probably why the kid is such a mess." Black Star says looking down into his coffee cup.
"We do the best we can as a collective, but he needs more than us, that's for sure. Tsubaki has tried to take him under her wing since he arrived, but he won't have any of it. He insists on staying with us in the bunkhouse."
"You're doing the best you can." Maka firmly assures. "He's lucky to have people here who care about him."
Black Star stares into the fire for a long while and Justin rolls his stiff shoulders. Maka's heart hurts for the young boy, she knows the gut-wrenching pain of not having parents or a family to be loved by.
"It's been a long day, we should probably hit the bedrolls." Black Star says after a time, waking her from her thoughts.
His voice sounds distant and lonely, Maka wonders if he is thinking of Tad's future or if he's homesick, Tsubaki never being far from his mind.
The Prairie wind whistles, bending the grass in great sheathes, and Maka pulls her coat around her a little tighter. She looks up at the cloudless night sky, a million stars dancing in the icy heavens. Maka tries to remember if the sky had ever been that big and bright in London. She feels a small pang when thinking of her home, but it passes quickly enough. The empty rangeland is vast and never-ending, and though a small part of her feels that loneliness too, the other part of her feels contentment. There's still so much she has to learn about her new home. And like Tad, she was no longer alone. They had been adopted into this rowdy oddball cowboy family.
She knew it in her bones. They would both be alright.
Authors note:
Hey y'all! I wanted to thank everyone for all the love and support! I've recieved so many comments and reviews and I am totally blown away by how much y'all love this story.
Also thank you for all the patience, I know this chapter took awhile longer to get out than normal. I'm a farmer full time, so spring is always my busiest time of the year! No worries though! With spring planting almost done the chapters will soon be published at a more consistent rate.
Once again, thank you so much for reading and hanging in there!
I hope everyone has a beautiful day! :) :)