ikissdhimbck | Victoria County, Texas, 1888 -- OOM for Ben Wade (part 2)

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Victoria County, Texas, 1888 -- OOM for Ben Wade (part 2)

[following this:]

It was a breathtaking sunrise. Kate slept through part of it, waking when the sky was already on fire, pink clouds melting into a violet haze at the horizon. She rose up and gave Ben his coat back, shaking off the chill in her bones and the fog across her mind from not enough solid rest.

The morning routine set them in opposite directions at first, as they quietly attempt to wake themselves up for the ride into town. "Baths" need to be taken (in other words, they need to walk down to the river and splash freezing water on themselves), fires rebuilt, food prepared, and trail coffee is a definite must.

Kate leaves Ben to his own devices, wandering off to see what sort of game she can rustle up.

Moments later, gunfire breaks the serenity of the desert morning.

.

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She's cleaning down her gun quietly, resting against a rock to keep the weight off her left leg.

"Surely can. Thanks for makin' the hike."

Beat.

"And you're welcome."

She smirks, standing straight and dusting the dirt off her britches. They're the ones she slept in last night, and she could really use a change of clothes.

But, first things first: back to the campsite, to get breakfast going.

"We're hunter-gatherers, Kate."

A beat.

"You hunt, I gather."

Another beat, then, sweet as sugar, "But thank you, all the same."

She laughs.

"You mean I do all the work and you collect the payday? Now, if this is how this whole thing's gonna work, Ben Wade, then we need to have us a little discussion."

He chokes back a belly laugh.

"Moses in a basket, what do you think bein' a boss means? Of course it's sittin' back and lettin' other people do the work."

She stops mid-hobble.

"I think I'm doin' this wrong," she murmurs.

She turns and extends her arm, proffering her Winchester to him.

"Here, clean this and make us a fire. Lemme know when the conies are done."

And then she sets back out on her way.

"Hey, now -- "

But he transfers a rabbit to his other hand and shoulders the rifle nonetheless.

Wryly, "You're learnin', all right. Learnin' real -- "

He pauses and squints; that looks like an approaching rider in the distance.

"Learnin' real what?" she challenges, sounding rather proud of herself as she turns her head to smirk at him.

Catching the squint of his eyes, she sobers immediately, turning around quickly.

She sees it, too.

Her hands go to her hips, but she's not wearing her guns. She left them with her pack when she'd gone to get her rifle. Her first reaction is to run over and grab them, but that would only stir up suspicion, wouldn't it?

"That horse is headed straight this way," she says. "Whoever it is, is bound to stop. And I got wanted posters all over the county with my face on 'em."

"That ain't gonna be a problem," he says lightly, dropping the game at his feet for a moment and yanking a bandanna from his back pocket, "'cause you've got the consumption and we're on a mission to get you cured out here in the fresh desert air."

He offers the kerchief -- the dark blue cloth is wrinkled but clean -- and keeps his eyes on hers.

"I'm a preacher. Reverend Tucker Evans, here in the flesh. And you? Are my lovely wife."

A beat.

"Prudence."

She stares at him blankly.

She really, really doesn't know what to say first.

"Reverend?" is what she eventually settles on. "Hell, Ben, you look about as much as a reverend as I do the Virgin Mary!"

Standing there in her dirty faun britches and untucked button-down, her cowboy hat hanging at her back and hair in a messy braid, wearing cowboy boots and spurs, for the love of god. But the horse is approaching fast, and there aren't a lot of options open to them right now. Besides, that kerchief will help her obscure her face, and she does have the undernourished physique of someone who could, indeed, suffer with the disease. She snatches the blue cloth out of his hand, her eyes, speaking volumes on hellfire, do not depart from his until the rider is almost upon them.

She glances up -- man, middle-aged, bearded, no badge -- and coughs into the kerchief, turning her back to him to give Ben one last sizzling look.

'Prudence?!' is what forms on her lips, though not a breath of sound escapes her throat.

"Ho!" calls the rider, pulling his mount to a stop.

"Mornin', friend," Ben says, tipping back his hat.

"Mornin'," the man replies, his eyes sliding from Ben to the rabbits, then to Kate, and he offers a respectful nod in her direction. "Y'all doin' all right?"

"As fine as the good Lord intended," Ben says, amicable and all smiles. "He just provided some fine breakfast for me and the wife, here."

The man's eyes fall to the rabbits once more.

"I heard the shots."

"That's right," Ben says. "No trouble, just makin' sure Prudence gets a good meal to keep her strength up. She's got the consumption, y'see."

At the man's nod, she has the presence of mind to curtsy slightly, as awkward as it may look in britches.

She takes a few steps back and lets the menfolk talk, like a good little preacher's wife. There will be plenty of time for beatings later.

"Oh, Tucker. I told you that you was gonna wake the dead, causin' all that fuss. You know you can't shoot for shit."

...Or, maybe she'll just give him hell right now.

She turns and smiles serenely at their visitor, careful not to give him too long to see her face. He looks shocked by the vulgarity, but Kate sweetly soldiers on.

"What's your name, friend?"

"Uh." He shifts in the saddle. "John. John Cole. It's a pleasure, ma'am."

"Still a sight better'n you, what with your delicate condition, darlin'."

He gives Cole another easy smile, letting it reach his eyes.

"Nice meetin' you, Mr. Cole. I'm Tucker Evans -- Brother Tucker, that is."

Ben gestures toward Kate's kills with his free hand.

"You eaten anything yet, yourself? We got enough of the Lord's bounty to share."

Cole's mouth opens and his Adam's apple bobs.

"I, uh -- that's kind, but I couldn't. Not with Miss Prudence needin' an extra helpin'."

Thank you, Jesus, Ben doesn't say.

She smiles oh-so-lovingly at her husband, before daintily coughing into that kerchief.

"You're kind," she wheezes, nodding her head graciously to Mr. Cole.

His mouth turns up in a half-smile.

"Are ya'll headin' up to Cuero?"

Come to think of it, Kate never did settle on a destination. She figured as long as they followed the river north they'd come upon civilization sooner or later.

"W-we are," she says, eyes skittering to Ben briefly. "Just about how far is that from here? You know?"

"Not too much farther. Prolly 'bout half a day's ride, by my reckoning."

She nods -- half a day's ride isn't so bad -- and turns the conversation back over to the good reverend.

Edited 2009-11-26 06:44 (UTC)

"Just tryin' to get her well," Ben says, voice butter-smooth. "The dry heat's the best for her cough, the doctors say."

"I've heard that myself," Cole says, then clears his throat. "Well, uh, best of luck to the both of you, Brother Tucker."

"And you, Mr. Cole."

Cole gives "Prudence" another polite nod, and Ben offers the man a wave as Cole urges his horse along.

"Just be careful," Cole calls over his shoulder. "There's bandits who'll take advantage of your kindness out here if y'ain't careful."

"Oh, there's no need to worry about us," Ben says without a trace of irony. "We'll get ourselves to Cuero lickety-split."

Kate goes through all the motions of propriety in saying goodbye to the traveler. Her heart is beating like a drum, hoping he's really going to ride on without a second thought. There was a moment or two when he looked at her and she was sure she had been recognized.

Her eyes slide to Ben when Cole calls out his parting advice, somehow managing not to snort.

"We sure will. Ain't no time to dawdle with the way you handle them guns, sweetheart. I'd sure hate to come across some of them highway robbers. Goodness me! Thank you, Mr. Cole! You have safe travels!"

She waves until her little speech dissolves into a coughing fit and she's forced to draw her hand back over her mouth, turning towards the campfire.

Ben picks up the dead rabbits again and flashes a grin in Kate's direction.

"See that? The Lord just worked in one of those mysterious ways He's so famous for."

She sucker punches him in the gut.

(Gently.)

"Maybe we should work on gettin' our story straight, 'fore we head into town," she huffs.

He sends a dramatic wheeze in her direction.

(If she'd caught him in the solar plexus, he'd've dropped one or both rabbits.)

"What's got you so out of sorts, Prudie?"

She steps up to him, nice and close, until her smiling face is inches from his.

"Call me that again," she murmurs, "and I will kill you."

It's all fun and games until someone loses a heart.

"I'll git the fire goin' and then head down to the river t'git us some water to boil. I need to wash up, too."

She fusses with her right shoulder absently before crouching in front of their smoking campfire, prodding the embers with a stick.

"Then I guess we should talk 'bout Cuero."

Cheerily, "Kill me, and I'll haunt you till you give up the ghost."

He places the rifle with the rest of her things, then settles in to clean the kills, the knife in his practiced hands making quick work of fur and meat and blood and bone.

Eyes on his handiwork, he doesn't look up when he speaks again.

"How's the shoulder?"

She, too, keeps her eyes on her handiwork.

"Achin' some," she says, holding her hands out to the flames now licking up branch and bramble. "Prob'ly just from sleepin' on the ground in this weather. Hurt somethin' fierce all winter long in Colorada."

She leans back on her heels, unbuttoning her collar and pushing her sleeve down enough to expose the scarred flesh on her arm. For such a superficial wound, it sure left an ugly mark to remember by. Long and jagged and discolored in patches.

She examines it for a moment or two before she draws her collar back up, and massages her bicep as she stands.

"Cold sure don't help," he says, eyes sweeping the scarring before he respectfully averts his gaze.

"You have any kinda doctor near Doc's spread there?"

She shakes her head as she moves to her pack.

"No. He was pretty far removed from any kinda town. I took care of myself, mostly."

She's rustling around for clean clothes and soap.

"Until I couldn't no more.

"Been looked at by a doctor in the bar, though. Guppy, in case you know him. Don't think I mentioned his name 'fore."

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Don't think I know him."

A beat.

"He give you a clean bill of health?"

She draws her arms in, resting them on her bent legs. Her eyes are focused on her bag as if she didn't hear him, but judging by the way her hands are nervously playing with the bar of soap she retrieved, the question came through loud and clear.

"I'm too skinny," she says, standing erect. "M'gonna go clean up. Would you watch out for passersby? Shouldn't be too long."

She's already moving in the direction of the river, which is several yards away from their campsite and downhill a little, tucked behind wild foliage.

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