ikissdhimbck | Cuero, Texas, 1888 -- OOM for Ben Wade (part 3)

Entry tags:

Cuero, Texas, 1888 -- OOM for Ben Wade (part 3)

[following this:]

Once the details are ironed out and their aliases are firmly in place, Reverend and Mrs. Evans ride for Cuero looking as much the part as they could manage. Ben even has himself outfitted with a makeshift clerical collar.

(Kate can't look at him without laughing. 'Perhaps,' she suggested, 'you can use it as a Bible bookmark when we're through, Ben.')

It's a half a day's ride from their campsite to the outskirts of town, so it's already late afternoon, pushing for evening, when they finally arrive. Cuero is right off the river, good dirt roads and two free iron bridges crossing the river a coup for the community. The San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railway, connecting Cuero to Houston, is visible from the ride in, and once they make it onto the main drag it's obvious that the trade town is, indeed, prospering (with more than two and a half thousand residents). Otto Buchel's bank is a prominent storefront, near J. R. Nagel's hardware, and H. Runge and Company (a branch of Henry Runge's Indianola-based store and bank). There's an opera house, two large schools, a fire department, and a hotel, as well as at least six different churches (which has Kate smirking, and teasing Ben about him better knowing his stuff before starting any conversations he can't finish). And, farther from the main street, are the factories Kate had heard about: a railroad machine shop, and a $50,000 steam-powered cotton textile factory with sixteen looms.

Suddenly, all of Kate's worries about being recognized while in town fade to background noise. If she can't blend in, in a place like this, then she deserves to be caught.

.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A slow smile graces her face.

"Which should we look at first?"

He returns that smile.

"The one furthest from the sheriff's office."

She laughs.

(An honest to goodness laugh.)

"You sure you don't wanna go pay your respects t'the local law, reverend?"

"Well, if and when I do pay the place a visit, I've got the Lord on my side, here."

~~To say nothing of the Hand of God~~.

"So if it shakes out like it should, it'll be a meetin' of mutual respect."

Amused Kate is amused.

She points to the crest of Ben's head.

"Your halo? Is tarnished. Y'might wanna see to that, first."

"Matches the collar," he says with a half-smile, and takes a quick drink from his canteen before dropping it back in the saddlebag.

"You feel like takin' a walk before sunset, or'd you rather get settled in up here?"

He's fine with both options; there's no reason they can't go on a self-guided tour through Cuero in the morning, instead.

"I don't think I'll be settled, even if I cut fresh flowers and hang new curtains," she says with a dry chuckle. "Plenty of time for unpackin' later. Besides, I still got my bonnet on."

She hold out her arm silently with a nod.

He tucks her arm into the crook of his elbow, every inch the gentleman, and leads them downstairs; another short conversation with the clerk affords them directions and a handful of dinner recommendations, and Ben leads the way to the exit, holding the door for Kate.

"After you, Miss Evans."

"Thank you," she says with a nod, gathering her skirts and stepping out onto the boardwalk.

The sun is just now hitting that obnoxious level in the sky, where it hangs impossibly bright and absolutely unavoidable before sinking into the horizon.

She takes Ben's arm again, and whispers a quiet warning against his shirtsleeve.

"'Member a few months back, when I told you 'bout takin' care of things back home? Well, that was just a few days ago, for these folks. News might not've traveled this far yet, but knowin' Trout Walker, there's gonna be folk out lookin' for me. Jus' watch your step. Please."

He nods, careful to keep his expression neutral.

"Always do."

He offers small smiles and tips his head toward a group of young women as they pass.

"Besides, this ain't my world -- I'm playin' by your rules here."

Kate nods and curtsies when it's appropriate as they pass people on the walk, but the niceties are always punctured by the awkward shift of passerby's eyes to her legs, and the hitch in her step. Her footfalls echo unevenly on the weathered wooden planks.

She keeps that kerchief close to her face, nervous that the outlaw in her will shine through regardless of the current act.

"That right? Well, that's a comfort. You won't go blowin' up our marks 'fore we even get a chance to get back to the Bar and grab the others, then?"

Her voice is a low hiss to avoid being overheard, but the teasing tenor is still audible enough.

Lightly, "Out here, layin' groundwork in the thick of it -- "

Another quick, genuine smile, and he gives Kate's arm a gentle squeeze.

"I've got the patience of Job."

She chuckles softly, eyes cast out on the path ahead.

"Guess if there's one thing y'got plenty of, it is patience."

They pass a general store, a tailor's, and an apothecary -- Kate's wanted poster is hanging inside the picture window. Across the street is Buchel's bank, and not too far from that is a saloon and a restaurant.

"And God-given good looks -- can't forget those."

The poster doesn't escape his notice; it's a damn good likeness, even better than some he's seen of himself on his side of the door.

"Next thing you know, you'll have your very own run of dime novels."

"My mistake. And here I thought I was the purdy one between the two of us," she winks.

Her wide eyes skitter from Ben's face, to the poster, then back to Ben's face again. There's a crooked little smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

"Golly, wouldn't that be somethin'? Maybe they'll call the first one, 'The Deadly Cowgirl'. Whadda y'think?"

A beat.

"I think somebody's been doin' their homework in the bar."

That little smile turns into a full-blown smirk.

"Of course. I needed t'know who I was gettin' involved with, after all."

"Wouldn't expect anything less from you," he says with a slight nod.

"But you can't believe everything written in those damn things -- more'n half the time, the facts're -- "

"Afternoon, reverend," a small boy, no more than six or seven years old, pipes up as they walk past. "Missus Reverend."

Ben returns the greeting in kind, then turns his attention back to Kate.

"Wrong."

Kate blinks at the salutation -- Missus Reverend? -- eyes following the boy as they pass each other, until she has to crane her neck to see.

'Good morning, Miss Katherine!'

She quietly returns the greeting, eyes slipping back to Ben's face.

Beat.

She looks absolutely amused.

"I'll keep that in mind," she cedes, restraining her grin.

"If you've read that one, then you know they wrote about how I dynamited a wagon full of Southern Pacific prospectors one spring."

The light in his eyes briefly shifts into something cold and distant.

"It was a whole train full of 'em. You can't trust the paper those things're printed on."

She quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't laugh.

(Even though she wants to.)

"And you wonder why I question your ability to play by my rules," she deadpans. "Y'know, usually them books embellish the number of people you've killed."

'I killed half the men the Kid got credited for.'

Her expression turns more serious.

"But I'd believe it."

When they get to an appropriate place to cross the street, she glances up at him and asks:

"You wanna get somethin' t'eat, or should we go see 'bout settin' us up a line of credit in one of these fine establishments here in town?"

"Let's get somethin' to eat -- banks ain't open for much longer, anyhow."

And Ben wants to ask a few locals their opinions of the security to be had at both banks.

His lips quirk into a half-smile.

"We'll see to our finances first thing in the mornin'."

She sees that half-smile, and matches it with one of her own.

"Yes, dear."

She waits for him to step down into the street and help her off the boardwalk, boots meeting the earth in a small plume of dust before they head across the broad way and up the steps to the little restaurant across the way.

It's fairly clean inside, walls of horsehair plaster and fine mahogany trim. There's a table in the corner, by the window, that looks appealing to Kate. She gestures to it, and peers up to see if Ben approves.

He nods once, sweeping an arm toward the unoccupied table.

"After you, Miss Evans."

With a nod toward the two members of the wait-staff standing near the bar on the far side of the room, he steps behind Kate to pull out her chair.

The waitstaff was momentarily distracted by how the pretty little blond walked with such an ungraceful gait to the seat Ben held out for her. But when he nodded in their direction, they both hopped to.

A middle-aged woman with mousy brown hair comes over with a pitcher of water, followed by a younger looking man with jet black curls.

"You folks thirsty?" she asks with a thick German accent.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject