Victoria County, Texas, 1888 -- OOM for Ben Wade

[ikissdhimbck]

[following this:]


The door dropped them off out in the middle of nowhere -- right were Kate was, the last time she'd been 'home.' When she'd left Green Lake after confronting Trout, she'd ridden north with little thought in mind other than putting some distance between the Walker estate and herself. If she had any point of reference, she might have known this put her right in the middle of the 44 Ranch, but there was nothing to see for miles but brush and scrub and river water and dirt.

She and Ben had mounted up and kept going north, following the river until nightfall. Their ride had been somewhat reserved, quiet, and somber. The both of them had a lot to think about, after the morning's events back in Milliways.

Setting up camp was also a quiet affair, punctuated by brief discussions of where they should tie the horses, who should build the fire, what they should cook and eat -- anything they could think of that didn't touch on the subject of Doc, or the limp in Kate's step.

Ben took first watch following supper, offering to also take the third. But after he woke Kate for her turn at second watch, she was up, and didn't bother waking him when the time came around for him to take over. Her eyes were on the horizon, and the clear night sky overhead.

She had missed her Texas sky.

.

Comments

[almosthonorable]

"No Bennin' me, now -- it was what it was. I don't know what would've happened any different, so I'm not sorry for it."

He takes a pull from his flask and offers it to Kate.

"People in the bar've got hard times behind their own doors, I'd imagine."

[ikissdhimbck]

She considers the offer carefully before reaching out and taking the flask from him.

"I'd wager they do, but in my experience there ain't too many people who understand what it's like t'live in a world where folk get shot over whiskey."

She takes a long draught, wincing against the burn, and hands the flask back.

"Or kissin' the wrong person."

She could mean Sam, or Doc, or both, at this point.

[almosthonorable]

"Dunno if any time's all that safe, from what I've heard from some of 'em around the bar."

Another slow swallow of whiskey.

"And besides," he says, chortling under his breath, "knowin' my daddy, he deserved that bullet and then some."

[ikissdhimbck]

"You take after your mama then, huh?"

It's a gentle taunt, accompanied by a very slight quirk of her mouth.

[almosthonorable]

He offers the flask again as he shakes his head.

"But even bad men love their mamas."

[ikissdhimbck]

"Mm," she comments noncommittally, accepting the flask once again.

A moment of quiet drinking passes between them before she ventures to speak.



"Y'know, with my daddy gone, Doc dead, and me not able t'go back to Green Lake ever again, I really don't got nothin' out here, do I?"

She breathes a sharp, humorless laugh, as her eyes scan the horizon.

[almosthonorable]

"I don't think that's true. You got plenty of work, assumin' you want it."

[ikissdhimbck]

"Well, as long as I have work," she says, a dry chuckle mixed in with the words.

At least it does give her something to focus on.

"Guess it'll make it easier bein' on the run. There won't be nothin' behind me to miss."

[almosthonorable]

He caps the flask and pockets it.

"It gets easier, the longer you do it."

A beat.

"Well, easier to keep your eyes on what's ahead instead of behind, anyway."

[ikissdhimbck]

"I reckon."

Her eyes are back on the limitless borders of sky. It's mostly flat in these parts, and the heavens stretch on for miles.

(She may be looking for her morning star.)







"I never did do 'im right."

She was just trying to fix that, for once in her life. She really was.

[almosthonorable]

He doesn't turn his head, but his eyes slide to her.

He's a good listener; it's easy to forget that, with all the sarcasm and one-liners.

[ikissdhimbck]

Her cheeks are rosy from the whiskey. Her metabolism changed over the winter, what with everything going on, so even that little bit of drink has her feeling hazy around the edges.



"Funny how y'don't realize just how much you love somethin' 'til it's gone. You'd think by now I'd've learned my lesson."

Her eyes are unfocused, and she sets her chin down on her knees, huddling for warmth. It's late (early), and the desert can get chilly without the sun beating down.

"Now it's too late. I can't never tell him the things I should'a when he was still listenin'."

[almosthonorable]

He's whiskey-warm -- and even if he wasn't, he's still a gentleman.

Wordlessly, he shrugs out of his coat and drapes it around her thin shoulders.

[ikissdhimbck]

She swims in it.



"I'm sorry, Ben."

She plucks the hemlines up in her small hands and pulls the fabric around her legs like a tent.

"I"m sorry I didn't keep my promise to you."

[almosthonorable]

"What promise?"

[ikissdhimbck]

"That we was gonna be safe."

[almosthonorable]

"Well."

A pause.

"Seems like Salazar had somethin' to say about that."

He's not being glib or unkind, just honest.

[ikissdhimbck]

"Yeah."

She turns her head to look at him.

"An' I'm the one who got 'im talkin' in the first place."

Same for Kate: she isn't being self-deprecating, or melodramatic. She's just being honest.

[almosthonorable]

She's not wrong.

Which is why Ben holds his tongue.

[ikissdhimbck]

She's not looking for him to argue. She's long since made her peace with her own selfishness, and put it in its place.

Which is why the apology is still strong in her eyes.

[almosthonorable]

And he sees it, clear as crystal.

It confuses him.

"You don't owe me an apology, Kate."

[ikissdhimbck]

"I feel like I owe everybody one," she murmurs with a small voice. "Took me all these months t'git to a place where I'm okay, an' then Milliways pulls me back in, and there's all his friends, there..."

She swallows, wishing absently that he hadn't put the flask away.

Her eyes are somewhere near his knees.

"Couldn't take it, anymore."

[almosthonorable]

His frown deepens.

"Who's givin' you hell in the bar?"

[ikissdhimbck]

"It's not like that," she says with a quick shake of her head.

Her hair slips into her face, and in the moonlight she looks like a little lost girl.

"S'just... havin' t'tell them all he's dead, and that it's my fault. Nobody's givin' me hell, it's just hard t'see the looks on their faces. Knowin' how much he was loved there. Cut down before his time, an' by accident, too. That bullet was meant for me."

[almosthonorable]

"It ain't an easy thing, workin' through somethin' like that."

He's thinking of Dan Evans, bleeding out beside the 3:10 to Yuma; of Mark and William and Alice Evans on Dan's once-dying ranch, now with more water rights and money than any of them had ever imagined.

"But you 'n me both know he'd take that bullet for you all over again, even knowin' what was gonna happen."