Dorothy stifled a yawn of her own when the saloonkeep yawned and felt slightly envious when Jack went up the stairs with a shot of whiskey. She didn’t dare ask for any though. That would put her to sleep for sure and she thought she was going to be on guard duty for at least a couple hours.
As Connor came in with their staggering prisoner, Hank’s face bruised from Jack’s fist, the saloonkeeper’s eyebrows shot upward. He ran a respectable business. His family slept under this roof. And he was immediately worried about just what was happening. “We don’t need no trouble here,” he said, his friendly tone from earlier turning more serious.
Dorothy had certainly never done this before. And she wasn’t quite sure of the proper protocol. “Ah, we got papers from the sheriff up in Dark Canyon.”
His skeptical look only faded slightly. “I’ll let the Constable know then. He’ll probably want you to check in with him in the morning.”
Dorothy nodded and followed Connor. It seemed an odd twist of fate that had let their paths cross again and yet in the days since their unexpected reunion, they’d not actually had any time alone. Even now, they had Hank, but maybe it was the best to be hoped for.
“Ya tired? I could sit watch since I got an hour or two a sleep earlier. Or I could see if mebbe they’d brew us some coffee…?” She didn’t worry that Connor would read more into an invitation for coffee. She’d never met anyone more literal in her life.
As Connor came in with their staggering prisoner, Hank’s face bruised from Jack’s fist, the saloonkeeper’s eyebrows shot upward. He ran a respectable business. His family slept under this roof. And he was immediately worried about just what was happening. “We don’t need no trouble here,” he said, his friendly tone from earlier turning more serious.
Dorothy had certainly never done this before. And she wasn’t quite sure of the proper protocol. “Ah, we got papers from the sheriff up in Dark Canyon.”
His skeptical look only faded slightly. “I’ll let the Constable know then. He’ll probably want you to check in with him in the morning.”
Dorothy nodded and followed Connor. It seemed an odd twist of fate that had let their paths cross again and yet in the days since their unexpected reunion, they’d not actually had any time alone. Even now, they had Hank, but maybe it was the best to be hoped for.
“Ya tired? I could sit watch since I got an hour or two a sleep earlier. Or I could see if mebbe they’d brew us some coffee…?” She didn’t worry that Connor would read more into an invitation for coffee. She’d never met anyone more literal in her life.
Busy watching Connor head into the Hungry Huntsman and then taking a closer look at the pinto Indian pony to ensure that it really was the horse he thought it was, Charlie didn’t realize he had more company until he heard the feminine voice say his name.For half a second, he thought it was Dorothy. Not that the two women sounded much alike, simply because Dorothy was the one he was expecting to find here. But it definitely wasn’t Dorothy.
“Uh…” he said.
“I’m sure you don’t remember lil’ me…”
With her hair partially concealed by the shawl, it took is brain a couple seconds to recall the pretty southern belle from the Texas saloon. Holy Shite! What was she doing here?! And more importantly, how lucky was he that Dave wasn’t here to steal her attention!?
“Miss … uh … Mary,” he said, trying to straighten himself up. “What… what‘re you … I mean, sure is nice to see a familiar face after such a long ride.” He took his hat off and gave her what he hoped was a charming smile. “Just didn’t spect to find you here, of all places.”
Connor let Dorothy handle the innkeeper. It was unlikely that he would take the word of a savage, even if he handed him legit papers from the sheriff. Either way, once he appeared to take Dorothy's word for it, he moved Hank to the room and let Dorothy accompany the both of them.
It wasn't immediately apparent to Connor that he and Dorothy were alone after quite a long time, even without counting the barely conscious form of Hank. The Kiowa Brave was still thinking about that man outside that offered to help him. He had been awfully suspicious, and Connor kept glancing over his back to see if they were being followed.
He was relieved to see that Charlie had gotten distracted by something outside and they were once again by their lonesome. Just he, Dorothy.. and their prisoner.
"Somewhat, but I would not mind keeping watch for a while longer." Connor confessed to Dorothy as he asked if he was tired. "It has been a long ride, however. Some coffee would be good." Of all the exchanges between his people and the Europeans, Connor had to admit that he liked the idea of brewed coffee the best. His people had always chewed on coffee beans to energize themselves, but grounded to a fine powder with hot water and some honey was truly tantalizing. Connor had gotten quite addicted to it, and back in his time in the Civil War he always tried to drink a cup, particularly if he knew he was heading into battle. No milk though, like most of his people, Connor was lactose intolerant.... he had quite a few allergies despite being an unstoppable warrior.
Oddly, thoughts of coffee made him turn to Dorothy. He was.. still absurdly bad at this whole courting affair, but if he had anything over Jack, it was his honest.
"Dotty." He said suddenly, frowning under his wolf hood. "I'm glad.. that we are working together again, despite the circumstances. I had missed your company." There, the closest that Connor could possibly get to actually flirting.
It wasn't immediately apparent to Connor that he and Dorothy were alone after quite a long time, even without counting the barely conscious form of Hank. The Kiowa Brave was still thinking about that man outside that offered to help him. He had been awfully suspicious, and Connor kept glancing over his back to see if they were being followed.
He was relieved to see that Charlie had gotten distracted by something outside and they were once again by their lonesome. Just he, Dorothy.. and their prisoner.
"Somewhat, but I would not mind keeping watch for a while longer." Connor confessed to Dorothy as he asked if he was tired. "It has been a long ride, however. Some coffee would be good." Of all the exchanges between his people and the Europeans, Connor had to admit that he liked the idea of brewed coffee the best. His people had always chewed on coffee beans to energize themselves, but grounded to a fine powder with hot water and some honey was truly tantalizing. Connor had gotten quite addicted to it, and back in his time in the Civil War he always tried to drink a cup, particularly if he knew he was heading into battle. No milk though, like most of his people, Connor was lactose intolerant.... he had quite a few allergies despite being an unstoppable warrior.
Oddly, thoughts of coffee made him turn to Dorothy. He was.. still absurdly bad at this whole courting affair, but if he had anything over Jack, it was his honest.
"Dotty." He said suddenly, frowning under his wolf hood. "I'm glad.. that we are working together again, despite the circumstances. I had missed your company." There, the closest that Connor could possibly get to actually flirting.
The chill of the night was gently biting Maggie’s cheeks, and hopefully she could pass it off as the blushing of a young woman, who was talking to someone who made her heart flutter. She knew that she’d have to be the one who kept pushing for this con to work, but Charlie had to believe that it was him, who was in control.
“I know it must seem crazy,” Maggie said, looking up at him with the same bashful smile. “But... After you and your associate left Texas... I just couldn’t get ya outta my mind. I kept thinkin’ about ya.”
She found his gaze and held it, smiling a little wider, as if seeing him again was something she’d waited for for years instead of just months to see his eyes again.
“When I heard about Baker bein’ shot, I thought... Well, I don’t know what I thought... But I heard you were in Wyoming, and I went too...” She chuckled softly, as to cover her insecurity, and continued. “I ran out of money near Danby, and took a job as a maid here. I know it seems desperate, crazy even, but... I just couldn’t stand the thought of not seein’ ya again.”
If Charlie was there, Detective Stone might be as well. While that could prove fatal for her newborn plan of getting out of South Fork and cut her losses in the process, it could also improve her chances of success. If she could just meet with both of them separately and make them keep quiet about what she’d told them...
“I’m terribly sorry, Charlie... I hear how crazy, I sound... I shouldn’t have tried to find ya...”
“I know it must seem crazy,” Maggie said, looking up at him with the same bashful smile. “But... After you and your associate left Texas... I just couldn’t get ya outta my mind. I kept thinkin’ about ya.”
She found his gaze and held it, smiling a little wider, as if seeing him again was something she’d waited for for years instead of just months to see his eyes again.
“When I heard about Baker bein’ shot, I thought... Well, I don’t know what I thought... But I heard you were in Wyoming, and I went too...” She chuckled softly, as to cover her insecurity, and continued. “I ran out of money near Danby, and took a job as a maid here. I know it seems desperate, crazy even, but... I just couldn’t stand the thought of not seein’ ya again.”
If Charlie was there, Detective Stone might be as well. While that could prove fatal for her newborn plan of getting out of South Fork and cut her losses in the process, it could also improve her chances of success. If she could just meet with both of them separately and make them keep quiet about what she’d told them...
“I’m terribly sorry, Charlie... I hear how crazy, I sound... I shouldn’t have tried to find ya...”
Sydney glanced between Gene and Lance. It was not really charges per se. More like a feeling of uncertainty about the man. It was just a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind. The marshal thought about how to phrase what he wanted to say. Saying the wrong thing could turn the entire situation worse than it needed to be.
"Does he often frequent the wilderness in the middle of night miles outside the safety of the town?"
That was the main concern for Sydney. He could not comprehend why Lance would be out there in the dark. The only reason he could come up with was that he was hunting for people to rob. Or looking to take their lives. Neither option was something that he could abide by. He hazard a glance towards Lance and then looked back towards Gene. He went on to explain a little more about his thought process.
"He seemed rather suspicious appearing in our camp in the middle of the night. Were it not for vague responses there would be little to no reason not to trust him. He stayed true to his word and escorted us here. However, I want to know his standing in the town."
"Does he often frequent the wilderness in the middle of night miles outside the safety of the town?"
That was the main concern for Sydney. He could not comprehend why Lance would be out there in the dark. The only reason he could come up with was that he was hunting for people to rob. Or looking to take their lives. Neither option was something that he could abide by. He hazard a glance towards Lance and then looked back towards Gene. He went on to explain a little more about his thought process.
"He seemed rather suspicious appearing in our camp in the middle of the night. Were it not for vague responses there would be little to no reason not to trust him. He stayed true to his word and escorted us here. However, I want to know his standing in the town."
“I’ll see if they got any,” Dorothy said as she used the key to unlock her room so that Hank could be taken inside. The room wasn’t anything fancy. Just two single beds and a dresser with a basin and pitcher and an oil lamp that was not currently lit. But it was clean and in good repair.
She was about to turn around and go back downstairs for the coffee when Connor’s words gave her pause. She was a little surprised, though not in an unpleasant way, to hear Connor had missed her company. Or even given her a second thought after they’d parted ways last year.
The edges of her mouth crept upward into a smile in opposition to his frown. “Me too,” she said, meeting his eyes for only a few moments before she turned and hurried away, the click of her boots audible with each step down the wooden staircase. Being stealthy was not her natural state of being.
She wasn’t gone long before returning with two cups of black coffee and handed one to the Kiowa. She used to like her coffee with cream and sugar, but during her time with Bobby there’d almost never been cream handy and only sometimes sugar, so she’d just gotten used to drinking it black. And never even thought about the possibility of adding honey.
“Already had some going.” Which seemed odd at this hour. But she was glad for it and took a sip as she sat down on the edge of one of the beds. “Geez, ‘at’s strong nuff ta float a horseshoe!”
She took another sip, toying with a sudden desire to tell him the truth… about everything from the train robbery to Robert Baker’s death to her most recent predicament - that she, Flinch, & Smitty were expected to commit murder in exchange for their own safety. That secretly she hoped that Flinch and Smitty did it while she was off on this trip just so that she was spared the guilt? That going to the intended victim to warn him had not once, until this very moment, ever even factored into her thinking?
“Think ya can stay in Wyoming long once we get back?” She said, chickening out.
She was about to turn around and go back downstairs for the coffee when Connor’s words gave her pause. She was a little surprised, though not in an unpleasant way, to hear Connor had missed her company. Or even given her a second thought after they’d parted ways last year.
The edges of her mouth crept upward into a smile in opposition to his frown. “Me too,” she said, meeting his eyes for only a few moments before she turned and hurried away, the click of her boots audible with each step down the wooden staircase. Being stealthy was not her natural state of being.
She wasn’t gone long before returning with two cups of black coffee and handed one to the Kiowa. She used to like her coffee with cream and sugar, but during her time with Bobby there’d almost never been cream handy and only sometimes sugar, so she’d just gotten used to drinking it black. And never even thought about the possibility of adding honey.
“Already had some going.” Which seemed odd at this hour. But she was glad for it and took a sip as she sat down on the edge of one of the beds. “Geez, ‘at’s strong nuff ta float a horseshoe!”
She took another sip, toying with a sudden desire to tell him the truth… about everything from the train robbery to Robert Baker’s death to her most recent predicament - that she, Flinch, & Smitty were expected to commit murder in exchange for their own safety. That secretly she hoped that Flinch and Smitty did it while she was off on this trip just so that she was spared the guilt? That going to the intended victim to warn him had not once, until this very moment, ever even factored into her thinking?
“Think ya can stay in Wyoming long once we get back?” She said, chickening out.
“You… tried to find me?” Charlie said, torn between disbelief and feeling flattered. Of course, she had been pretty dang impressed by his bravery in taking on the notorious One-Eyed Bobby when he’d met her in Texas. So it was probably inevitable he’d end up with the ladies lining up once the news got around.Suddenly, he was hardly feeling the pain in his shoulder, but he shifted his stance so that his bloodied shirt was more visible, showing it off like a badge of honor. Even had he not already been having some doubts about their original plan to betray Sydney, this kind of attention from Mary Keller might be enough to make him keep wanting to play the heroic lawman instead of the wanted outlaw. Seems there were some perks after all, even if the money wasn’t as good.
“Job’s not quite over yet, ma’am. We might have taken down Baker and his right hand man - a murderous injun called Sparrow Hawk - after that train job they pulled, but some a his crew fled this way. Been on their trail since. Looks like we mighta just found ‘em.” He tipped his hat at the horses hitched there, not even considering the wisdom of telling her that.
“But don’t you worry none. We should have ‘em all safely in custody ‘fore the sun comes up.”
The constable rubbed at his eyes and looked at Sydney, then to Bones. And finally to Lance. He blinked a few times, taking slightly longer to begin answering than seemed necessary.“Well, he don’t live here in South Fork, for one. Just comes by when he’s got something to sell to the Hungry Huntsman. But I don’t imagine it’d be unusual for him to be out for weeks at a time working his trap lines."
“I heard shots!” Lance chimed in, unable to stay quiet. “Figgered someone was in trouble is all! And I weren't even wrong. Was that pair a mountain lions I been after!"
Gene held up a hand toward Lance, trying to indicate for him to settle down. "Let's start from the beginning, huh? I'm Eugene Wyat, Constable here. And you are ... bounty hunters?"
Charlie didn’t seem to be turned off or weirded out by the idea of Maggie trying to find him. He seemed flattered, which hopefully meant that her plan had started off right. Hopefully, she’d never have to sleep in South Fork again... If she managed to convince Charlie to let her travel with them, that was.
When she thought back on their interactions in Texas, Charlie hadn’t been nearly as confident and actively pursuing her attention as Dave Stone had. He wasn’t exactly shy, but he didn’t strike her as a womaniser either. If she could make him see her as woman, he could settle down with, her chances were bigger, he’d bring her. Detective Stone would need the same convincing - he seemed more like the type who might dump her, when he’d gotten what he wanted. If she could get enough money with her before that happened, they’d be pretty much even when she’d eventually run off.
“Why - Charlie what has happened to your poor shoulder?” Maggie exclaimed with a worried furrow of her brows. She’d noticed his slight shift, and first now saw the tear and blood on his shirt. He didn’t seem to be in pain, so someone had likely done the initial patchwork, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t take advantage of the situation, still.
“There’s so much blood, too,” she added, stepping a little closer to him. Through the holes in the shirt, she got a glimpse of a few stitches, and decided that she wouldn’t touch his shoulder. She didn’t want to hurt his confidence by making him flinch in pain.
“And your shirt is torn... Let me mend it for ya. No respectable lawman should be dressed in tattered clothes.” Maggie had learned, almost ten years ago, how to wash blood out of clothes, and how to patch up a shirt enough for it to at least hold until the wearer could get a new one. She didn’t know if she was stepping too far, but the dutiful housewife-act could be what she needed to stay on Charlie’s mind.
When she thought back on their interactions in Texas, Charlie hadn’t been nearly as confident and actively pursuing her attention as Dave Stone had. He wasn’t exactly shy, but he didn’t strike her as a womaniser either. If she could make him see her as woman, he could settle down with, her chances were bigger, he’d bring her. Detective Stone would need the same convincing - he seemed more like the type who might dump her, when he’d gotten what he wanted. If she could get enough money with her before that happened, they’d be pretty much even when she’d eventually run off.
“Why - Charlie what has happened to your poor shoulder?” Maggie exclaimed with a worried furrow of her brows. She’d noticed his slight shift, and first now saw the tear and blood on his shirt. He didn’t seem to be in pain, so someone had likely done the initial patchwork, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t take advantage of the situation, still.
“There’s so much blood, too,” she added, stepping a little closer to him. Through the holes in the shirt, she got a glimpse of a few stitches, and decided that she wouldn’t touch his shoulder. She didn’t want to hurt his confidence by making him flinch in pain.
“And your shirt is torn... Let me mend it for ya. No respectable lawman should be dressed in tattered clothes.” Maggie had learned, almost ten years ago, how to wash blood out of clothes, and how to patch up a shirt enough for it to at least hold until the wearer could get a new one. She didn’t know if she was stepping too far, but the dutiful housewife-act could be what she needed to stay on Charlie’s mind.
Connor didn't make any gestures of concern when he drank the bitter coffee, although he had to admit it was less than ideal. Well, it was his mistake really, he should have specified he wanted some kind of sweetener. Not to be concerned with such things however, Connor sipped at the warmth beverage silently, thankful that he could just spend some time with Dorothy without Jack constant meddlesome interference.
Poor Connor, after all this time he still had no idea that Dorothy was not who she pretended to be. All he could do was smile at her when she asked him if he would continue to stay in Wymoing after their job was done.
"I could, if you want me to." He responded simply, that pleasant smile still lingering in his hooded face.
Poor Connor, after all this time he still had no idea that Dorothy was not who she pretended to be. All he could do was smile at her when she asked him if he would continue to stay in Wymoing after their job was done.
"I could, if you want me to." He responded simply, that pleasant smile still lingering in his hooded face.
“A cougar tried to attack our camp earlier…” Charlie said as if it was just another day on the job. No big deal. And if Mary happened to think he’d fought it off himself, that was okay. He might owe Sydney his life, but that didn’t mean he had to mention the Marshal’s heroics when a fair lady’s affections were on the line.“That sure is a nice offer, Miss Mary. I’d be mighty grateful for it.”
Respectable lawman. That had kind of a nice ring to it. Maybe he could even get one of those official deputy stars.
But more importantly… was she asking him to take his shirt off right here? Or maybe in a private room in the Hungry Huntsman? Thoughts of his actual job were quickly falling by the wayside.
“Guess I best get a room. It's been a long ride,” he said, then went about detaching his saddle bags and carelessly slinging it over his shoulder. Ow! Ow! Ow! In his effort to look nonchalant, he’d tossed the bags right over the wound and it nearly took his breath away. He clenched his teeth hard and swallowed down the pain, trying to act like he’d totally meant to do that.
“Can I buy ya a drink first?” he said, voice slightly strained.
Dorothy had only seen Connor actually smile a couple times. Not like Jack’s easy grin that had drawn her to him quickly. But it was a nice smile, she decided. Made him look a lot less like he was waiting for the opportunity to put his tomahawk in someone's skull. She'd offended him once by suggesting he liked looking intimidating, but she still wasn't sure she was actually wrong.
"I could, if you want me to."
It was such a simple statement and with nearly anyone else, Dorothy would have blown it off as little more than a passing comment meant to buy her affection for just today. But did Connor ever say anything other than exactly what he intended?
"I..."
She hesitated and took another sip of coffee to cover her sudden uncertainty. She tried to imagine Connor staying in Dark Canyon and, inevitably, meeting Flinch. Or worse, Smitty. Or Esme. Or PJ. Or Sheriff Joe. How could that end in anything but disaster? Maybe she could circumvent the whole thing. "Ya think Easton would hire me on 'gain?" she asked instead, more keen on running away from her problems than facing them head on. "Maybe I could ride back with ya?"
"I could, if you want me to."
It was such a simple statement and with nearly anyone else, Dorothy would have blown it off as little more than a passing comment meant to buy her affection for just today. But did Connor ever say anything other than exactly what he intended?
"I..."
She hesitated and took another sip of coffee to cover her sudden uncertainty. She tried to imagine Connor staying in Dark Canyon and, inevitably, meeting Flinch. Or worse, Smitty. Or Esme. Or PJ. Or Sheriff Joe. How could that end in anything but disaster? Maybe she could circumvent the whole thing. "Ya think Easton would hire me on 'gain?" she asked instead, more keen on running away from her problems than facing them head on. "Maybe I could ride back with ya?"
“A mountain lion?!” Maggie said in genuine disbelief, albeit she did amp it up a little. She had heard mountain lions scream in the night during her travels, but she hadn’t met anyone who’d been actually attacked by one. Were the large cats also affected by nightmares that made them more aggressive?... No, that was mad talk.
“It’s the least I can do, when you spend your life and risk your safety just to keep all of us common folk safe,” Maggie said, pretending that she didn’t see that moving his saddlebag caused him pain. If she fussed too much about his injured shoulder, she could risk taking away the ego, she tried to build up, and make him feel embarrassed rather than flattered.
Maggie quickly turned her back on him, allowing him to grimace, should he need it, and opened the door into The Hungry Huntsman. As she entered, she pushed the shawl down, so it was around her elbows rather than her shoulders and covering her hair.
“A drink would be much appreciated,” she replied as she turned around. She blushed as she found his gaze, and held it for a moment longer than she’d done outside, before bashfully looking away again. “Though, if we’re to share a drink, I must insist that you just call me Mary...”
Maggie wouldn’t suggest having the drink in his room, though she wouldn’t refuse it either. Going somewhere private with a man wouldn’t be an idea, Mary Keller would ever have, despite it being more effective than waiting for Charlie to suggest it on his own. Continuing her coy flirting would be easier, without the risk of others interfering, if they were alone.
“Are ya up late or early, Mr. Salisbury?” Maggie chirped when she saw the saloonkeeper behind the bar. “I can hardly imagine this hour to be busy for the business.”
“It’s the least I can do, when you spend your life and risk your safety just to keep all of us common folk safe,” Maggie said, pretending that she didn’t see that moving his saddlebag caused him pain. If she fussed too much about his injured shoulder, she could risk taking away the ego, she tried to build up, and make him feel embarrassed rather than flattered.
Maggie quickly turned her back on him, allowing him to grimace, should he need it, and opened the door into The Hungry Huntsman. As she entered, she pushed the shawl down, so it was around her elbows rather than her shoulders and covering her hair.
“A drink would be much appreciated,” she replied as she turned around. She blushed as she found his gaze, and held it for a moment longer than she’d done outside, before bashfully looking away again. “Though, if we’re to share a drink, I must insist that you just call me Mary...”
Maggie wouldn’t suggest having the drink in his room, though she wouldn’t refuse it either. Going somewhere private with a man wouldn’t be an idea, Mary Keller would ever have, despite it being more effective than waiting for Charlie to suggest it on his own. Continuing her coy flirting would be easier, without the risk of others interfering, if they were alone.
“Are ya up late or early, Mr. Salisbury?” Maggie chirped when she saw the saloonkeeper behind the bar. “I can hardly imagine this hour to be busy for the business.”
After a long ride, a hasty escape and a rush of adrenaline, it didn’t take Jack long to fall asleep. He’d barely taken off his boots and lied down, covering g before his eyelids slid close, and he felt himself sink into the surprisingly comfortable mattress. His breathing quickly became deep and steady, and he drifted off to sleep.
At first, his sleep was dreamless. Just a warm, comfortable darkness that promised him almost full recovery from the fatigue of the day - just in that little nap. But it wasn’t long before the warmth slowly disappeared, and the darkness became grey, and slowly morphed into shapes and then a scene that was both foreign and familiar at the same time.
He was seated at a table in a beautifully decorated room. It looked like a dining hall in one of the large mansions in the south - those he used to break into and steal silverware from when he was a boy. Only, he wasn’t a boy. He was his current age, and dressed much different than usual. He wore tailored pants, an intricately embroidered waist coat with a gold pocket watch, a wide ascot and square toed shoes. On the table next to him was a top hat that likely also belonged to him.
With him were two familiar faces, though different from how they’d looked when he’d last seen them. PJ sat next to him at the end of the table. He was dressed similarly to Jack, and smoked a cigar. Bright daylight came in through the window, and Jack wondered why PJ was so comfortable despite the chances of him being caught were a lot bigger when he was so casually hanging out in a place where he could easily be cornered.
The other person with him was Esme. She was dressed fashionably as well, though it wasn’t as odd as PJ’s sudden appearance in fancy clothes. She’d always been vain and excessively fond of finery. One thing was different about her, though: she was clearly pregnant. She’d been that a few times before, but this time she seemed much more warm and maternal.
“More coffee, Jack?” She asked him, filling up his cup without waiting for a reply.
“We need to sell off the grounds near Danby,” PJ said, sending Esme a smile as she filled his coffee cup as well. “They’re pumped dry, and only loosin’ value. Better get rid of ‘em before they cost us too much.”
“Are you sure ‘bout that, Peter?” Esme asked, stopping in her tracks to kiss the top of his head. “They could still become valuable later.”
“There’s no need to hold on to liabilities, just because that might become useful,” PJ replied, and looked at Jack, who was still very confused about what the hell was going on. What were they talking about? Why was PJ so calm, when Esme’s husband could be home any minute? Why were they dressed so fancy?
“We can afford losing what they might become worth,” PJ added, patting Jack on the shoulder. “After the deal our Jack made, Meyer Oil Limited has never done better. I’m proud of ya, son.”
His words didn’t make much sense to Jack, but they still made him smile. He’d seen PJ as a father figure since he was a boy, but this was the first time he heard PJ call him ‘son’ in a way that wasn’t meant to be insulting or scolding.
“We must celebrate that,” Esme chirped, placing a crystal glass in front of Jack, and pouring him a glass of whiskey from a matching crystal decanter. She also poured PJ a glass, but didn’t take one herself. She’d always preferred fine wine over any kind of alcohol that could be found in a saloon or bar.
“Cheers, Jack,” PJ said, raising his glass.
“Cheers,” Jack responded, lifting his glass as well, and downing the golden liquid. It was smooth and not at all burning, but it did have an aftertaste of bitter almonds that Jack wasn’t sure if he was a fan of. He looked at PJ to see if he’d noticed as well, only to see him place the still full glass on the table again.
“Wha -“ Jack tried to say, but he wasn’t able to finish his question before a burning sensation filled his body, his abdomen was attacked by dizzying cramps and his head filled with a pounding headache. He struggled to look up, and was met with the smiling faces of Esme and PJ.
“I won’t ever throw anythin’ away as long as it’s still useful,” PJ said calmly, sliding the crystal glass away from him. “You held up your part of the load, but with a new Junior on the way - one that’s actually mine, and not some street bastard - there’s no longer any use for you. No hard feelings, right, Jack?”
“It’s better not to fight it. It’ll just make it worse,” Esme chimed in, resting one hand on her round belly and another on PJ’s shoulder. “If you go easily, we’ll bury ya next to your little redheaded girlfriend... What was her name again?”
Jack collapsed onto the floor, cramping and curling up around his abdomen, as his vision faded and his breathing first became troubled, then ragged, and then stopped completely.
Jack woke up with a gasp, almost tumbling out of bed from having tossed and turned. He placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm down his pounding heart whilst also struggling to catch his breath. He looked around the room, and his eyes fell on the empty shot glass.
“Damn rot-gut whiskey,” he mumbled to himself, convinced that the alcohol must had been off, and the cause of his intense nightmare.
At first, his sleep was dreamless. Just a warm, comfortable darkness that promised him almost full recovery from the fatigue of the day - just in that little nap. But it wasn’t long before the warmth slowly disappeared, and the darkness became grey, and slowly morphed into shapes and then a scene that was both foreign and familiar at the same time.
He was seated at a table in a beautifully decorated room. It looked like a dining hall in one of the large mansions in the south - those he used to break into and steal silverware from when he was a boy. Only, he wasn’t a boy. He was his current age, and dressed much different than usual. He wore tailored pants, an intricately embroidered waist coat with a gold pocket watch, a wide ascot and square toed shoes. On the table next to him was a top hat that likely also belonged to him.
With him were two familiar faces, though different from how they’d looked when he’d last seen them. PJ sat next to him at the end of the table. He was dressed similarly to Jack, and smoked a cigar. Bright daylight came in through the window, and Jack wondered why PJ was so comfortable despite the chances of him being caught were a lot bigger when he was so casually hanging out in a place where he could easily be cornered.
The other person with him was Esme. She was dressed fashionably as well, though it wasn’t as odd as PJ’s sudden appearance in fancy clothes. She’d always been vain and excessively fond of finery. One thing was different about her, though: she was clearly pregnant. She’d been that a few times before, but this time she seemed much more warm and maternal.
“More coffee, Jack?” She asked him, filling up his cup without waiting for a reply.
“We need to sell off the grounds near Danby,” PJ said, sending Esme a smile as she filled his coffee cup as well. “They’re pumped dry, and only loosin’ value. Better get rid of ‘em before they cost us too much.”
“Are you sure ‘bout that, Peter?” Esme asked, stopping in her tracks to kiss the top of his head. “They could still become valuable later.”
“There’s no need to hold on to liabilities, just because that might become useful,” PJ replied, and looked at Jack, who was still very confused about what the hell was going on. What were they talking about? Why was PJ so calm, when Esme’s husband could be home any minute? Why were they dressed so fancy?
“We can afford losing what they might become worth,” PJ added, patting Jack on the shoulder. “After the deal our Jack made, Meyer Oil Limited has never done better. I’m proud of ya, son.”
His words didn’t make much sense to Jack, but they still made him smile. He’d seen PJ as a father figure since he was a boy, but this was the first time he heard PJ call him ‘son’ in a way that wasn’t meant to be insulting or scolding.
“We must celebrate that,” Esme chirped, placing a crystal glass in front of Jack, and pouring him a glass of whiskey from a matching crystal decanter. She also poured PJ a glass, but didn’t take one herself. She’d always preferred fine wine over any kind of alcohol that could be found in a saloon or bar.
“Cheers, Jack,” PJ said, raising his glass.
“Cheers,” Jack responded, lifting his glass as well, and downing the golden liquid. It was smooth and not at all burning, but it did have an aftertaste of bitter almonds that Jack wasn’t sure if he was a fan of. He looked at PJ to see if he’d noticed as well, only to see him place the still full glass on the table again.
“Wha -“ Jack tried to say, but he wasn’t able to finish his question before a burning sensation filled his body, his abdomen was attacked by dizzying cramps and his head filled with a pounding headache. He struggled to look up, and was met with the smiling faces of Esme and PJ.
“I won’t ever throw anythin’ away as long as it’s still useful,” PJ said calmly, sliding the crystal glass away from him. “You held up your part of the load, but with a new Junior on the way - one that’s actually mine, and not some street bastard - there’s no longer any use for you. No hard feelings, right, Jack?”
“It’s better not to fight it. It’ll just make it worse,” Esme chimed in, resting one hand on her round belly and another on PJ’s shoulder. “If you go easily, we’ll bury ya next to your little redheaded girlfriend... What was her name again?”
Jack collapsed onto the floor, cramping and curling up around his abdomen, as his vision faded and his breathing first became troubled, then ragged, and then stopped completely.
Jack woke up with a gasp, almost tumbling out of bed from having tossed and turned. He placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm down his pounding heart whilst also struggling to catch his breath. He looked around the room, and his eyes fell on the empty shot glass.
“Damn rot-gut whiskey,” he mumbled to himself, convinced that the alcohol must had been off, and the cause of his intense nightmare.
It seemed like they were going to be talking circles about Lance. At least, the marshal was able to glean some useful information from the constable. There was some plausible evidence that Lance would have been in the area. It was still rather strange but they may never be able to know for certain why he was there. However, Sydney pushed the thoughts from his mind. There was other matters he needed to tend to in the meantime.
Sydney shook his head to say they were not exactly bounty hunters. He was not sure what the brothers considered themselves to be. They could be considered bounty hunters while they were out chasing after Dorothy and the others. No mention had been made about their purpose in South Fork. That would be cleared up here in a moment.
"I am a US Marshal from Tombstone, Arizona. I came to South Fork in pursuit of an escaped criminal. A young woman going by the name of Dorothy Parson. She was last seen traveling in the company of two men. I tracked them this far but have yet to lay eyes on them."
Sydney would offer up a detailed description of Dorothy. There would be quite a bit of details about what he last knew that she was wearing and looked like. He did not know what the men looked like so he made certain to mention that fact. After giving the description he looked towards Gene.
"Have you seen her? I don't know about the men but I am looking for the woman. If you see her will you let me know."
Sydney shook his head to say they were not exactly bounty hunters. He was not sure what the brothers considered themselves to be. They could be considered bounty hunters while they were out chasing after Dorothy and the others. No mention had been made about their purpose in South Fork. That would be cleared up here in a moment.
"I am a US Marshal from Tombstone, Arizona. I came to South Fork in pursuit of an escaped criminal. A young woman going by the name of Dorothy Parson. She was last seen traveling in the company of two men. I tracked them this far but have yet to lay eyes on them."
Sydney would offer up a detailed description of Dorothy. There would be quite a bit of details about what he last knew that she was wearing and looked like. He did not know what the men looked like so he made certain to mention that fact. After giving the description he looked towards Gene.
"Have you seen her? I don't know about the men but I am looking for the woman. If you see her will you let me know."
As Connor had told Dorothy that day, he didn't mean to appear intimidatingly, he wore the clothes he wore because they were practical and that was it. That 'civilized' folk did not like seeing a man wearing wolf pelts for clothing was not, and had never been, his problem. Besides, most of the time, people were intimidating by him not for the clothes he wore but for the color of his skin and there was very little Connor could do about that. At some point he just stopped caring.
But he did care what Dorothy thought of him, and if he helped his chances he was willing to not look as somber. He exhaled from his nose and reached for his head, lowering the wolf pelt hood so Dorothy could see his face plainly. A sign of trust.
"There would be no reason for Easton not to hire you again." Connor assured her with a slight frown of concern, wondering why she might think otherwise. "If he for some reason refuses I can always give him my recommendation. He has not choice but to value my word." At the very least, Easton appeared to be intelligent enough to trust the man that saved his life.
Connor nodded when Dorothy asked if she could ride with him, and his soft smile lingered on his otherwise serious face. "I would be glad to accompany you." He assured her. "I'll be happy to remain by your side for as long as you want me to."
But he did care what Dorothy thought of him, and if he helped his chances he was willing to not look as somber. He exhaled from his nose and reached for his head, lowering the wolf pelt hood so Dorothy could see his face plainly. A sign of trust.
"There would be no reason for Easton not to hire you again." Connor assured her with a slight frown of concern, wondering why she might think otherwise. "If he for some reason refuses I can always give him my recommendation. He has not choice but to value my word." At the very least, Easton appeared to be intelligent enough to trust the man that saved his life.
Connor nodded when Dorothy asked if she could ride with him, and his soft smile lingered on his otherwise serious face. "I would be glad to accompany you." He assured her. "I'll be happy to remain by your side for as long as you want me to."
“US Marshal?!” The Constable’s eyes widened. That sure woke him up and he listened to the description Sydney gave.David Goller gave Sydney a sideways look as he claimed he was only interested in Dorothy. That didn’t make much sense to him. Dorothy was small potatoes. She had a couple theft charges against her, but the bounties on Fred Linch and Paul Smith, who had been running with Baker for years longer, were much higher and would be a real feather in the cap of the Marshal if he brought them in.
Kinda made Dave wonder if there was something else going on with Dorothy and Sydney. Her sweet and innocent act had let her get her hooks into Bobby. Then into Flinch. Maybe in that time she’d had alone with Sydney, she’d gotten her hooks into him too. And if these two other fellows she was with weren’t Flinch and Smitty, then maybe she’d been plying her trade yet again.
Gene nodded. “I sure think I’d remember seein’ a woman like that, Marshal. We get a lot of travelers through, but South Fork’s a small town. If she’s still here, we’ll find her. Now, listen. There ain’t no jail and we ain’t even had need a one in a couple years. But I got a cellar that can be locked from the outside if ya need it. Think maybe I got some stuff down there, but I can get it cleaned out come daylight.”
"Am I free ta go?" Lance asked, still a little grumpy about the whole thing. "We can take that cat over to the Huntsman ta get the bounty."
“Mary it is,” Charlie agreed. Luckily, she hadn’t seemed to notice his momentary clumsiness.“Both,” Mr. Salisbury answered Maggie's question, trying to be funny, but the effect was nearly lost as he stifled a yawn. “Went ta bed, but couldn’t sleep. But you might be surprised how busy it’s been. Guess I ain’t the only one.”
“I’m sure glad you’re open,” Charlie said as he strolled over to the bar and leaned his non-injured side against it so that his torn shirt remained on good display for Maggie’s benefit. “Can I get a shot of whiskey and whatever Mary’s having? I need a room too.” He then handed over a few coins while the saloonkeeper got them their drinks and a key.
Thoughts of Sydney and David needing rooms were forgotten. Their pursuit of the outlaws would keep until morning. Though strangely, Charlie didn’t feel remotely tired right now. “Let’s go see if the shirt can be saved…” he suggested.
"There would be no reason for Easton not to hire you again."
Unless Easton had seen a wanter poster with her likeness on it recently from that incident just a few months ago in Arizona. What a terrible decision that had turned out to be. She’d been so anxious to prove herself capable of being more than just Bobby’s bed-warmer. Had she only known it would all come crashing down only weeks later; that Robert Baker - the man that had seemed nearly as invincible as Connor - would be shot dead; she likely would not have been as quick to ask to be involved in their jobs.
"I would be glad to accompany you. I'll be happy to remain by your side for as long as you want me to."
She moved closer to him so that there were only inches between them, remembering the similar words Bobby had said to her 4 years ago: "Why dontcha come with me, Angel? You can stay as long as you want to."
Connor, she thought, was not the same kind of man as Bobby, despite a few shared traits that neither would have likely admitted. But didn't she owe him at least what Bobby had known?
"Connor? Are you suggestin' to make an honest woman outta me?" she tried to put a teasing, almost flirtatious tone to her question to soften the implication. But it was there anyway: she wasn't an honest woman. Heck, Connor didn't even know her name wasn't 'Jackson'.
Unless Easton had seen a wanter poster with her likeness on it recently from that incident just a few months ago in Arizona. What a terrible decision that had turned out to be. She’d been so anxious to prove herself capable of being more than just Bobby’s bed-warmer. Had she only known it would all come crashing down only weeks later; that Robert Baker - the man that had seemed nearly as invincible as Connor - would be shot dead; she likely would not have been as quick to ask to be involved in their jobs.
"I would be glad to accompany you. I'll be happy to remain by your side for as long as you want me to."
She moved closer to him so that there were only inches between them, remembering the similar words Bobby had said to her 4 years ago: "Why dontcha come with me, Angel? You can stay as long as you want to."
Connor, she thought, was not the same kind of man as Bobby, despite a few shared traits that neither would have likely admitted. But didn't she owe him at least what Bobby had known?
"Connor? Are you suggestin' to make an honest woman outta me?" she tried to put a teasing, almost flirtatious tone to her question to soften the implication. But it was there anyway: she wasn't an honest woman. Heck, Connor didn't even know her name wasn't 'Jackson'.
Shaking off the nightmare was harder than Jack had expected. He sat at the end of the bed, rubbing his eyes while he rested his head in his hands. He felt the need to physically rid him of the idea that PJ would get rid of him, yet every time he closed his eyes, the scene replayed in his mind. He’d have to do something else that could keep him occupied.
Jack stood up and ran a hand through his hair. He considered getting some coffee from the bar, but the longer he had to keep himself company, the longer he’d have to remember the nightmare, and the longer it would take for him to shake it off and forget it.
He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, but a few minutes later, he stood outside of the room, Dorothy was watching Hank in. Jack was certain that he wouldn’t get more sleep that night, so better he did something useful, and let Dorothy and Connor have some rest.
“Darlin’?” Jack said as he opened the door, and looked at Connor and Dorothy. “Oh, ya here too, buddy? I just had a brief snooze, so I can watch ‘im. Y’all should get a lil’ sleep as well, so we’re all ready ta move on tomorrow.”
Jack stood up and ran a hand through his hair. He considered getting some coffee from the bar, but the longer he had to keep himself company, the longer he’d have to remember the nightmare, and the longer it would take for him to shake it off and forget it.
He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, but a few minutes later, he stood outside of the room, Dorothy was watching Hank in. Jack was certain that he wouldn’t get more sleep that night, so better he did something useful, and let Dorothy and Connor have some rest.
“Darlin’?” Jack said as he opened the door, and looked at Connor and Dorothy. “Oh, ya here too, buddy? I just had a brief snooze, so I can watch ‘im. Y’all should get a lil’ sleep as well, so we’re all ready ta move on tomorrow.”
Despite his stifled yawn, Maggie humoured Mr. Salisbury and gave him a little chuckle at his attempt at a joke. Maybe he’d had nightmares as well? Maggie didn’t know if she found it comforting if he had or not, but if it was something plaguing every single person in town, it was more reason to get the heck out of there as soon as possible. M
“Well, it sure is good to know that you aren’t just sittin’ idly by, when ya can’t sleep,” Maggie said, making sure to stand close enough to Charlie that he could feel her presence, even if they were both speaking to Mr Salisbury. She did, however make sure that the distance between them didn’t look inappropriate in Salisbury’s eyes.
“I’ll take two of your cheapest whiskeys,” Maggie told Luke, eyeing in option to feed her addiction, without causing too much suspicion. “With that scratch on ‘is shoulder, he will need more than just one drink,” she added a little lower, not wanting to let Charlie hear that the drink was for him, and to let the saloonkeeper know that it wasn’t for her.
Maggie got the two glasses and followed Charlie to the room, he had gotten. “I am sure, I can get it stitched up nice for ya,” Maggie said as she entered, choosing to sit down on the chair rather than on the bed. She lifted her eyes to meet Charlie’s, and batted her eyelashes a few times.
“Thank you for not findin’ me crazy, Charlie... I’ve never done somethin’ so wild before.”
“Well, it sure is good to know that you aren’t just sittin’ idly by, when ya can’t sleep,” Maggie said, making sure to stand close enough to Charlie that he could feel her presence, even if they were both speaking to Mr Salisbury. She did, however make sure that the distance between them didn’t look inappropriate in Salisbury’s eyes.
“I’ll take two of your cheapest whiskeys,” Maggie told Luke, eyeing in option to feed her addiction, without causing too much suspicion. “With that scratch on ‘is shoulder, he will need more than just one drink,” she added a little lower, not wanting to let Charlie hear that the drink was for him, and to let the saloonkeeper know that it wasn’t for her.
Maggie got the two glasses and followed Charlie to the room, he had gotten. “I am sure, I can get it stitched up nice for ya,” Maggie said as she entered, choosing to sit down on the chair rather than on the bed. She lifted her eyes to meet Charlie’s, and batted her eyelashes a few times.
“Thank you for not findin’ me crazy, Charlie... I’ve never done somethin’ so wild before.”
"Hm?"
Honestly, Dorothy should have known better than to try and use an idiom with Connor. Despite all his time among settlers, his grasp on English was strictly bookish in nature- his eloquence was a clear sign that Connor had actually learned English from books and not through interacting with people, a rare thing among Native Americans but then again, Connor was a rare individual indeed.
Rareness came with its own troubles, and Connor did not understand what Dorothy meant by her expression.
"But.. you are a very honest individual..?" He said sounding perplexed until his brain finally shifted gears. His eyes widened and he understood what Dorothy was suggesting.
Despite his dark dark skin, his blush was clearly visible. Suddenly, Connor was no longer an imposing force of nature, an unstoppable fighter, killer of men and beasts a like. He was a confused, embarrassed youth.
"I..." He began to stammer until Jack arrived. Connor could honestly say he had never -ever- been so glad of seeing Jack and his terrible timing.
Saying absolutely nothing, Connor firmly pulled his wolf hood back over his face to hide his blush. Then, he briskly stood up and marched right out the door, almost shoulder checking Jack on the way out.
His Mentor had always told him. Better to remain silent and let folk thing you're a fool, than open your mouth and prove them right.
Connor had been caught off guard by Dorothy there, better to look like a fool and say nothing than to stumble all over his words.
If not stopped, Connor would simply head straight for his room and promptly collapse in bed. It had been a long day anyway...
Honestly, Dorothy should have known better than to try and use an idiom with Connor. Despite all his time among settlers, his grasp on English was strictly bookish in nature- his eloquence was a clear sign that Connor had actually learned English from books and not through interacting with people, a rare thing among Native Americans but then again, Connor was a rare individual indeed.
Rareness came with its own troubles, and Connor did not understand what Dorothy meant by her expression.
"But.. you are a very honest individual..?" He said sounding perplexed until his brain finally shifted gears. His eyes widened and he understood what Dorothy was suggesting.
Despite his dark dark skin, his blush was clearly visible. Suddenly, Connor was no longer an imposing force of nature, an unstoppable fighter, killer of men and beasts a like. He was a confused, embarrassed youth.
"I..." He began to stammer until Jack arrived. Connor could honestly say he had never -ever- been so glad of seeing Jack and his terrible timing.
Saying absolutely nothing, Connor firmly pulled his wolf hood back over his face to hide his blush. Then, he briskly stood up and marched right out the door, almost shoulder checking Jack on the way out.
His Mentor had always told him. Better to remain silent and let folk thing you're a fool, than open your mouth and prove them right.
Connor had been caught off guard by Dorothy there, better to look like a fool and say nothing than to stumble all over his words.
If not stopped, Connor would simply head straight for his room and promptly collapse in bed. It had been a long day anyway...
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