Kippy is hitched to the post outside the saloon. Filling with wrath Soul pushes through the double swinging doors, not caring a lick when they slam shut scaring what little patrons are left this late. A few men stand at the bar, but the kid isn't among them. His eyes burn as they go to the stairs.
It was one thing to sneak out for a drink, but the kid was upstairs with a chippy. After all their talks about waiting for a good woman, and all the damn rules the kid has broken tonight, it really sets his teeth on edge.
The tacky, worn strip of reddish carpeting leading up to the stairs do nothing to muffle the angry stomp of his boots. Taking the stairs two and three at a time, he reaches the second story. The stairs end at the far side of the room where just a tiny landing gives way to a hall. He storms around it. Several doors lay wide open, the rooms empty. There is a gaggle of women in a parlor at the end of the hall. A cursory glance lets him know the kid isn't there. He ignores the women, turns, and spies one last door. It's closed tight. Soul leans his ear against the door and listens. He hears a splash of water.
"Kid!" he bellows and throws the door open. Through the steam, he sees the kid's clothes strewn on the floor along with a woman's unmentionables. Bubbles cascade from a deep copper tub, running down a long slender back of a shampoo-frothed woman.
She squeals and sinks deeper into the tub, hiding her nakedness from him.
She stares at him with enormous and terrified eyes.
Soul spins around averting his gaze but stays rooted in the open doorway.
"Sorry, ma'am didn't mean to frighten you. I'm just here for my friend. I know he's in that tub with you. He can't hold his breath forever though, once he surfaces I'll haul him out of there and we'll be out of your hair." He crosses his arms stubbornly and listens for the tell-tale sign of water splashing.
"Maka, I—" a young dove stops short, the towels she had been carrying tumble from her arms at the sight of Soul. "You can't be here." She hisses.
"Trust me, I'm out of here just as soon as the kid crawls out of the tub." Soul snarls.
The dove turns tail and runs, probably to find the owner. That was fine. He wasn't leaving here without the kid.
Anger at the kid and the embarrassment at being in a room with a soaped-up naked woman makes Soul feel off-balance. He chalks it up to nerves, but it's more than that, it's a gut feeling that something isn't right.
The kid should have come up for a breath by now. But he hasn't.
Soul glares over his shoulder. Yep, no mistaking it, those were the Kid's duds on the floor.
Soul didn't intend to look at the woman. He just wanted to be sure the kid wasn't sneaking another breath. He feels his cheeks warm though as he takes in her delicate bare shoulders and the gentle swells of her breasts that peek above the bubbles. The stricken look on the face of the woman in the tub is far too familiar.
Then the girl's wide green eyes jolt him.
They're familiar, like the back of his own hand or the well-known colors of a misty pine.
How many times had he looked into those exact same eyes? Those eyes had scorned and mocked him upon their first meeting. They had been mistrustful after their fights. They had eagerly soaked up the knowledge he had taught. Against all hope, they had learned to trust him. They softened now anytime their eyes met. They warmed so brightly when the kid smiled at him. How could he deny those eyes?
"Kid?" He croaks, taking a swift step back.
That's the last thought that crosses his mind before his boots hit the wet floorboards and everything goes dark.
His feet fly out from under him and his head smashes into the doorjamb.
Soul's eyes roll in the back of his head and he crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"Bloody hell!" Maka squeals.
Forgetting her utter fear and indecency she rushes from the tub to his side in a whirl of bubbles and slippery limbs. She's cradling his lolling head in her hands when Blair rounds the corner and takes in the scene with an expert eye.
"Well, I see he took the news better than hoped."
After dressing she tried with all her might to pry him off the floor. It wasn't easy, he was so much heavier than he looked. He was built like a solid brick wall, all hard muscle, and sinew from a lifetime of hard work. Blair manages to wrangle a few saloon patrons who non-to-gently scrape him off the floor.
"He's in no shape to ride, you can borrow my wagon to get him home." Blair declares as they haul him outside.
Soul is long and lanky and the men seem to knock his head, elbows, and shins on every door they pass through.
"Do you think I should take him to a doctor?" Maka asks worried as one of the men conks Soul's head against the swinging saloon door.
"Oh he'll be fine, he's had way worse, I guarantee it." Blair laughs, obviously enjoying his rough treatment. Once placed in the open buckboard's bed Blaire grips Maka firmly by the elbow.
"I'm more worried about you darlin' and how you're going to fair once he wakes up."
Maka tries to swallow, but the lump in her throat only grows.
"What am I to do?"
"You do what you've always done darlin', you pick yourself up, hold your head high, and survive. He's going to be a hellcat, a downright bastard, and probably more angry than you've ever seen him, but if he's smart he'll get over it quick."
"And if he doesn't get over it?" She asks, her voice so pathetic, even to her own ears.
"Then you leave his sorry ass and come stay with me. I'll find you honest work here in town and I have an extra room that's yours if you want it. You'll always have a place here."
Blair sweeps her into a crushing hug and Maka clings back like her life depends on it. Even in the face of so much uncertainty, her dear friend is as solid as they come.
"Thank you, for everything. I promise to bring your wagon back soon." Maka says, her voice breaking as their embrace ends.
"Oh don't worry about it darlin', I imagine you'll have your hand full for a while with this one." She says with a sniff, indicating the limp body in the wagon bed.
Maka grimaces, but climbs onto the buckboard and takes up the reins. Kippy and Soul's paint are hitched to the wagon, both shifting from foot to foot, probably picking up on her own unease. Maka lets out a slow, careful breath then flicks the reins, urging the team forward. Towards home. At least she hopes it's still her home. Maka glances back and waves one last time at her friend. She smiles and waves back.
Blair can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her friend as she watches her go. Soul was a bullheaded fool, one of the biggest in fact shed ever met. But she prayed to God, that he wasn't so much a fool that he let his anger consume him. Maka was a beautiful and strong woman. A rarity here in the west, a gem among so many commonplace flowers. If he hurt her, or let her slip through his fingers... well, she would never forgive him for it.
A soft breeze picks up her hair, stirring the strands around her cheeks. She was thankful that the wind wasn't howling like it normally did. A sound like low thunder, then a whistling shriek as it shrilled like an animal. It was as if the wind was trying to swat her off the face of the earth sometimes. Something within her often wanted to shriek back at the wind. Or with it.
The tall timothy hay is performing its best impression of a green sea. The breeze sends wave after wave to ripple through its surface as if about to crash on a distant shore. It was astounding how much the prairie reminded her of the sea sometimes. Both are capable of great abundance, raw beauty, and great violence.
The wagon rolls gently as she passes through the south hayfield, the first rays of sunlight brushing the east with gold, the edges stained with black ink and indigo. A single star still holds onto the fading night. It's the north star, the brightest of them all. A few months ago she knew nothing about north or south. Now she could easily navigate by the stars. She could also make bird calls, birth calves, and tussle in a fight.
Soul had taught her so much. The same man now in the wagon bed behind her, out cold, and positioned in the most uncomfortable looking position. She glances at him and her heart constricts in the most beautiful and excruciating ways. She reaches her hand out, holding back tears, knowing this might be the last time she's able to touch him like this. Her fingertips seek out his hair, which is so much softer than it looks, then she touches his nose and gently brushes his pale cheek. His eyes flutter peacefully as she traces patterns on his skin.
Would he be able to forgive her?
She had been lucky so far, every person who learned her secret, though surprised at first, had accepted her without hesitation. Could she count herself lucky once more with Soul? She desperately hoped so, more than anything she had ever wished for. The thought of losing him was just too terrible to even think about.
Without warning, Soul's bloody eyes snap open and he bolts upright, snatching her hand off his face.
"Bloody hell!" Maka yelps, surprised by his speed. She tries to pull away, but he's crushing her hand in his iron-like grip. He looks confused and winces in pain.
"Kid?" He groans, trying to focus on her face.
"It's alright, Evans. You hit your head pretty bad. Try not to move too fast."
He gingery touches the back of his head, trying to recall what happened. "Did you slug me?"
Her lip trembles, stuck between tenderness and misery.
"I would never hurt you, not on purpose. Please never forget that." She whispers.
"What the hell are you talking abou..." Soul stops mid-sentence, his eyes locking on to hers. Those sad green orbs unlock something in him. Her hair is still damp, let loose and drying is soft whisps around her face.
He leaps over the seat and snatches the reins from her hands, halting the horses. He grasps her by the shoulders and swivels her to where he can scrutinize her from head to toe. His face twists into anger, disbelief, and back to anger.
He remembers.
"Who the fuck are you?" He yells, shaking her with every word.
His mood is as black and cold as a bank of thunderclouds.
"I, I don't know. I'm still me." She stammers, her words choking her, his face causing her heart to break.
He slams his fist on the wagon seat, his nostrils flaring.
"That's a fucking lie! Stop lying to me!"
He is livid, every statement emerging as a growl. His eyes burn through her with venom, his face contorting painfully.
"Not all of it has been a lie." She whimpers, "Please just let me explain."
"No, everything about you is a fucking lie." He flays her open with his gaze, his eyes blazing fanatically. Like he's close to losing his control.
It scares her, but the thought of losing him terrifies her more. She opens her mouth, to explain, to apologize, to come clean about everything. "Evans, I-.."
"No," he grates his jaw clenching as he turns away from her.
He won't even look at her.
"Don't say another fucking word to me, woman."
For the rest of the journey, they ride in silence. The quiet is so deafening, she doesn't know if she preferred the shouting or the cold shoulder. She chances a quick glance at him, but his eyes are set on the horizon, his beautiful face blank of all emotions. It hurts more than any words he could have spoken. Maka inhales slowly, trying to gather her fraying thoughts before they fly away, never to be grasped again. She would let him calm down, then she would explain everything. She would make him see her side of the story and the impossible choices she had to make to get here.
He would understand. It was Soul, he was hot-headed and bloody infuriating, but he always understood her.
He just needs time, she thinks to herself over and over again as the quiet miles slip by.
Not once does he look at her.
When they pull into the yard, she slips from the wagon before it comes to a full stop and slinks towards the house, ready to find shelter in her room to shut and lock the door. To hide from all of the hurt.
A strong hand wraps around her wrist though, stopping her. She looks up into a pale face with flaming eyes. His mouth is set in a hard line like he's trying not to bare his fangs at her. Without breaking eye contact he pulls his colt from his holster and fires a single bullet into the ground. It happens before she even has the chance to flinch. The horses squeal and dance in place, Maka's own ears ringing at the close proximity. She glares at him and he tilts his head down to sneer back as if taking pleasure in her discomfort.
Cowboys clamor into the yard from all directions at the sound of gunfire. Black Star stumbles from the barn, Tad hot on his heels, Justin barrels from the corral, gun already drawn, eyes searching for the treat. Even Tsubaki steps onto the porch, a double-barreled shotgun gripped in her delicate hands.
Without loosening his grip, Soul drags her, to the middle of the yard. Even as she digs her heels in and her boots drag the soil, it is no use. The breeze has died, hanging stagnant and brittle, as something terrible crackles just below the surface. There is a hush around them, neither man nor beast uttering a sound.
"Men, it's come to my attention that we've been played like a deck of bad cards." He growls, hauling her in front of them. He lets her go so abruptly she loses her balance and falls to her knees. Justin flinches, and Black Star grips Tad firmly by the shoulder, keeping the livid boy in place. No one steps forward to help her up, it's as if everyone is collectively holding their breath.
"Fancy pants Albarn, or whoever the fuck this is, has something important to tell y'all!" He declares, his voice bitter and his hand shaking as he points an accusing finger at her.
Maka digs her hands into the soil and grits her teeth, forcing the tears back. Justin, Black Star, and Tad know her secret, but there are others here too, who know nothing. All eyes are on her, she feels them scorching her.
"Go ahead, tell them the truth." Soul whispers coldly. "If you're even capable of telling the truth."
The soil feels cool under her fingers. It's probably no different from the same dirt she walked on back home, but to her it is. It's different, just like everything else in this country. It's beautiful, raw, and unforgiving.
The breeze picks back up, bringing with it the sweet smell of prairie grass and timothy hay. The sound of Cheif barking happily and the lowing of a baby calf, also carry on the wind. It's her calf, the one she helped birth.
Maka's fingers contract in the soil painfully, her courage and anger surging forward. Her conviction taking over, so strong that she looks up and spears Soul with a furious glare.
Let him try to tell her she didn't belong.
Texas belongs to her and her to it. This is the place that shaped her. This is her bloody fucking home.
Mustering every ounce of her inner dignified English lady she rises to her feet, swipes the dirt from her denim, and lifts her chin in defiance. She narrows her eyes as she begins to speak, brash pride dripping from her tone.
"I am lady Maka Albarn, and I was born a woman. Don't hold it against me though. Instead judge me by my talent, by the sweat of my brow, and the calluses on my hands. You know me, I've worked next to all of you. You know who I am and what I'm made of, my gender changes none of that. Yes, I am a woman, but I'm also a cowpuncher, a friend, and a Texan just like you."
She lets out a harsh breath, her voice hanging in the air. No one speaks and her heart twists painfully in her chest, fear, and rejection hot like a branding iron.
Justin steps forward, his eyes bright with mirth as he sweeps into an out-of-place but gallant bow.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." He murmurs, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. He looks up at her and smiles, her cheeks warming at his kind words. Not to be outdone Tad launches himself at her, wrapping his arms around her middle in a great bear hug.
"We love you, Maka, no matter what." The boy declares reverently.
Maka wraps her arms around him and sighs in contentment. "Thank you, Tadpole. I love you too."
Tad shoots Justin a cocky smile. Justin chuckles and ruffles the boy's auburn hair affectionately.
Black Star places his hand on Maka's shoulder grinning like a mad man.
"Looks like the cat's out of the bag English, but we're glad to have you all the same."
Soul fists his hands to his face and laughs, but it's the laugh of a stranger. The man's laughter dumps hot coals into the pit of her belly.
"You all knew." He accuses, darkness crossing his eyes as he looks at them. No one answers, but no one denies it either. A look of wounded astonishment passes over his pale face before he replaces it with contempt.
"Double-crossing snakes, the whole lot of you." He hisses, glaring at every one of his men; his friends, his family.
Tad's grip becomes noticeably more tight around her and Black Star and Justin move in closer, subconsciously shielding her from his wrath.
He swings his head hard around to level her with his smoldering eyes.
"Fuck you, Kid."
His words might have been empty, but his gaze was focused on her with that darkly intense expression she had learned to love. And fear.
He turns his back on them and storms off, heading for the south hayfield.
"Wait!" Maka yells, breaking free of Tad's embrace and chases after him. His legs are long and he easily outpaces her. Her eyes burn as unshed tears threaten to spill from her eyes. He's waist-deep in Timothy hay by the time she catches up to him.
"Evans, wait! Please... just let me explain!" She half sobs, desperately grabbing at his hand. He wrenches his hand from hers like she's burned him. He hisses like it's the most painful thing he's ever experienced.
"Explain what?" He bellows, flaying ber her bare with his fiery gaze. He grabs her, his finger digging painfully into the soft flesh of her arms.
"Explain, how you lied to me? How you betrayed me? How you fucking tore my heart out?" He whispers dangerously.
It takes everything inside her not to flinch and he sees that written on her face. He smiles meanly, knowing how deranged he must look.
Without warning, he drags her body against his. He feels hard and rough like he's made of stone. Maka stills, accepting the glaring anger that pours from his eyes, as he keeps her tight against him. His body goes stiff, then his whole body vibrates and shifts with emotion. He growls low in his throat and shoves her violently away from him. All the emotions on his face leave, he looks at her in a vacant and detached way.
"Don't follow me, or I'll make you regret it." He threatens, his voice hollow.
"Evans, please..." Maka chokes, her tears finally falling.
The sight of tears running down her cheek spurs him back to anger. He holds her gaze for a moment before looking away with a growl.
"I trusted you." He grits out.
He turns his back on her, and without another word, walks away.
Maka sinks to her knees, her legs buckling, her heartbreaking. She bows her head and weeps among the hay. She stays like that until the gloom around her turns into evening.
Justin comes for her not long after the stars begin to shine. She hears him speaking, a roaring in her ears, and loses track of what he was saying. It didn't matter though.
Nothing mattered.
She had lost her best friend, possibly forever.
She fell asleep, exhausted in Justin's arms as he carried her limp body back to the house. Later when she woke, her face buried in Justin's shoulder, his shirt wet with her tears, his arms still around her, she cried again, wishing more than anything she could see him. She didn't get her wish, Soul didn't come home.
That night or the next.
Howdy, I apologize for the delay in this chapter, I've been recovering from covid, then a bad case of phenmonia. I am luckily on the mend now and doing much better. This chapter was an little shorter than normal, but I hope you enjoyed it. I hate having to put Maka and Soul through all this anguish, but the angst has to get worse before it gets better!
Once again, thank you so much for reading and for all the lovely comments, it really brighten my day!
-Sammy921.