Work Text:
The town emerges on the western horizon, a cracky outcropping against the dry, flat terrain. From this distance it’s about the size of her thumbnail, the edges around it simmering in the heat. Echo considers passing it by, but she can hear her horse panting under her, and the dried riverbed she’s being following for the past forty miles doesn’t seem to be getting any wetter.
The town will have water at least, and that’s enough incentive for her to turn her reigns. Still, the horse and herself are too tired to traverse even the short distance in anything like a timely fashion. She dismounts when they are about halfway there, noticing how rocky her perch has become. Her horse needs more water than her and it’s been a dry couple of days.
Luckily the town doesn’t stop growing, and it’s motivation enough to keep her moving forward. As if sensing her own resilience, the horse remains strong too, and they stumble into the small town just before dusk.
If the place has a name, it isn’t being advertised, and she doesn’t bothering asking anyone she passes by. A few of them meet her eyes and tip their hats. One man who has the look of an immigrant from across the Pacific waves from behind his cart of vegetables, but otherwise, the townspeople recognize her as an outsider and give her room to breath.
Green’s Inn & Bar is situated near the center of town, with three stories for boarding and stables out back. A little boy sits under the overhang of the back porch and springs to his feet when he sees her, taking over the reigns of her horse with a gentle pat to his nose, and a toothy grin for her. His joy surprises her a bit, as unburdened as it is. Echo hands him a few cents without thinking about it, and if possible his delight grows at the sight of the copper coin.
“Thank you ma’am!” he calls as he takes a pail in hand and prances off towards a well somewhere. Echo cannot remember having so much easy energy as a child. Perhaps he just has good parents, or maybe it’s an indication of the kinder nature of the town in general. She can only hope.
Climbing the three steps into the salon makes her thighs burn more than it should, but her entire body burns, her skin cracked and dry and muscles tense from exertion.
“What can I get you?” asks the woman behind the bar as Echo heaves herself into a barstool.
“Just water,” Echo answers, and the woman turns to fill the order with a nod. Echo’s eyes drift shut without her permission, the restlessness of the short shifts of sleep she had dared to take on horseback the previous night creeping up on her. The tavern is quiet now, past the lunch rush and before dinner, and it wouldn’t have been hard for her to drift off if it weren’t for the man who decides to strike up a conversation with her.
“C’mon, you want something stronger than water,” he says, “Let me buy you a drink.”
Echo’s eyelids peel back, annoyance settling across her brow. There’s very little she’d like less then getting solicited at the moment.
The man has a thin, dirty face and bright eyes. There’s a gun on his belt, but he’s shorter than her and not terribly fit, she could take him easily if he were to try anything. But she doesn’t think he will. The way he tilts his hips and crosses his arms is far from flirtatious. Not to mention his scowl.
“Alcohol is damaging when you’re dehydrated,” she says, the dryness of her tone a result of both the feeling in her mouth and her general annoyance. Unfortunately he doesn’t take the clear dismissal for what it is, tilting his head like the fact she knows something so obvious makes her more interesting. Or challenging. The frown isn’t as deep.
“Ignore him,” says another voice, female this time, and coming from her other side. “John’s been sober six years and ‘as forgotten how booze work.” The woman has darker skin, more appropriate for the desert sun, and a mark around her eye like a sailor’s tattoo. Her eyes are bright too, but not with enthusiasm. More like the shimmering waves of heat on the horizon at mid day, the ones that make water seem just a step away. Echo notices the gun on her hip too.
“You’re new in town,” the woman remarks, taking the seat next to Echo without asking. As if it were an invitation, the man, John, takes the seat on her right.
“Just passing through,” Echo says, wishing they’d get the hint and just scram.
“Passing through? Hope little Jordan’s taking care of your horse.” Echo was never groomed with manners. The next thing out of her mouth would have been a lashing dismissal to leave her well the fuck alone, if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted with a loud cough.
“Murphy, Emori, I hope you aren’t giving this lady any trouble?” Her uninvited companions turn at the sound with matching eyerolls. The new party stands behind them, his voice is deep and authoritative. Something inside her perks up immediately upon hearing it. He has his thumbs tucked beneath his belt too make his chest seem larger. The sherrif badge on his breast gleams.
“Us, Bellamy? Never,” John (Murphy?) says with clearly false affront.
“Then leave her alone,” he says, with exasperation this time rather than sternness.
“Nothing wrong with a conversation, Bellamy,” Emori says, but swings herself out of the chair nonetheless. “Sorry I never caught your name, I’m Emori,” she says.
“Echo,” she relents, a consolation for their leaving. Emori smiles like she doesn’t believe that’s her real name, but will except it for the time being. She gives her a wave before going to meet Murphy at the pool table, her hand and fingers curved like a ginger root. Echo turns her gaze to Bellamy quickly.
“Sorry about them,” he says, indicating if he can take Murphy’s vacated chair. She nods. Pleasant company she will take. “I’m convinced the two of them are the best con men west of the Mississippi, didn’t want you getting caught up in it. It’s sorta my job to manage the crime,” he says with a short chuckle, pointing to the badge like she might have somehow missed it.
“Really?” she questioned with disbelief, casting the couple a quick glance. As far as she can tell the pair are flirting outrageously as they take turns stretching out across the pool table.
“Probably planning on learning your schedule so they could nick your horse when you leave, something of a bad habit the two of them have.”
She inspects Bellamy’s face. The lines of his humor are still there, but they lay over years of turmoil and hard work, she can see it weathered on his face. The generosity doesn’t fit neatly into that mosaic. People are weathered like that too, where she’s from, and they have a way of dealing with thieves.
“Why don’t you hang them?” she asks. Bellamy blinks.
“It’s been done,” he says, somber. “Didn’t quite stick.”
He coughs, shallow and awkward from his throat. “Besides, they keep all the other raiders and gangs away. Orchestrated a ‘mining accident’ that’s kept McCreary and his boys out of these parts for years.”
Echo has some concerns about his methods of law enforcement, but she doesn’t get a chance to voice them, interrupted by the server.
“Sorry for the wait, here’s your water,” she says, handing over a bigger glass than Echo could have dreamed. “And some cabbage soup. Best stuff in town, my husband grows the cabbages himself, and it’s more nutritious than you think. You looked like you could use a good meal.”
There’s a hunk of bread next to the steaming bowl of soup and she tears into it immediately, caught off guard by her own hunger. Sustaining herself off of canned rations and the burnt game she’d shot for the past week has done no favors for her stomach.
“Thank you,” she says, remembering her manners after a gulp of the soup burns the top of her mouth.
“Of course!” The patronne says, and then turns to Bellamy. “And what can I get for you?”
“The same as she’s having, Harper” He says with a smile, “And Monty’s finest moonshine, if you don’t mind.”
Harper laughs, even as she slides down the bar to fill the order, “You know that stuff is all nauseating.”
“Just the way I like it.”
Echo sets down the glass of water, half of which she’s already downed.
“This is a nice place,” she remarks, in part to Bellamy, but mostly to herself. Recognizing someone’s needs isn’t something she’s used to in customer service. The atmosphere here is camaradic too, rather than sordid. She cups her hands around the bowl of soup, the warmth seeping into her skin.
“Yeah, Harper’s a good soul,” Bellamy says, following the woman’s back as she prepares his drink. Echo nods in agreement, but that isn’t quite what she meant.
“Not just her, your town in general. The people here are generous, they seem happy.” Bellamy tilts his head like she’s some antiquity.
“You’ve been here less than an hour and you’ve gleaned all that? After those idiots tried to scam you?”
“It doesn’t take long to feel the nature of a place,” Echo argues. She’s good at first impressions, she knows she’s right. “Even your criminals do their part to protect this town, how many places can say the same?”
That at least gives him pause, although he still seems on the fence about agreeing with her. “You must be doing your job well Sheriff Bellamy.”
He’s more pensive then, his face a little darker. Things haven’t always been like this, then. Maybe they won’t be for much longer. She wonders what he sacrificed of himself to reach this state of peace.
“I do my best,” is all he concedes. “What about you?” He asks, “What kind of place are you from?”
Does she want to tell him? The events of the past month burn her mouth hotter than the soup ever could, and there’s no real harm in this stranger knowing. Not when his kindness lifts the dark circles from under his eyes.
“A harsher one than here,” she says, “in Dakota territory.”
Bellamy shifts in his seat, and for a moment she believes he’s going to defend the cruel environment of his town, some sort of showing of male bravado, but instead he nods at her to continue when she pauses.
“Winters are always the worst, but we knew how to deal with them. It was this summer we didn’t know how to handle. The wells dried up.”
Bellamy’s face fell, even talking about it now makes the back of her throat itch. She takes another drink of water.
“I was the deputy of a town whose neighbors were killing each other for their water stores.”
It is at that moment Harper comes back with Bellamy’s food and drink. Her face was as equally stricken as his.
“Well God bless you,” she says with genuine sympathy, and for some reason Echo finds comfort in the sad pinch of her brows. She recognizes empathy of course, but can hardly remember the last time any was granted onto her.
“I thought we needed outside help,” Echo continues, acknowledging Harper with a small nod, “a commision or something to get water or at least move the people out till the dry months were past. But the mayor and our sheriff disagreed. They thought that if they allowed the townspeople lowered the population enough we would be able to ration the stores and make it by ourselves.
“I love-loved Geda, I couldn’t see it torn apart like that. When I protested their plan I was chased out of town.”
“I’m so sorry,” Harper says, her fingers are curled around the edges of her sleeves.
“As am I,” Bellamy agrees in his lower register.
There’s more to say of course. She could explain the pain and confusion she’s felt the past few weeks, thinking of the bodies of her friends and neighbors that she left behind. People she had sworn to protect. Or the anger that had made her sick the first night, the brine in her mouth a manifestation of the sourness the betrayal of her leaders had left her with. If it were a little later in the night, and she had allowed herself a glass of that moonshine, maybe she would mention the deep sorrow that’s sat with her since she passed by Poles Ridge, the most southern landmark on a map that had placed Geda at the center. How she’s farther from home than she’s ever been before in her life. A home that’s not hers anymore, and maybe never should have been.
“Well, you’re welcome here as long as you need to stay,” Harper says, “We have rooms for long-term lodging, and if you can’t pay for it there’s plenty of ways to help around here. Monty is always clambering for another pair of hands in the garden.”
“That I am,” says a new voice, Harper’s husband, who Echo recognizes even without his hat and cart of vegetables, and who seems to recognize her in turn. The look on his face suggests he’s heard the tail end of her story. “I unpacked everything into the cellar,” he says just to Harper, followed by a brief kiss. He looks about ready to strike up a conversation with Bellamy, but is caught with his mouth half open at the look of concentration on Bellamy’s face.
“Or you might think about working for me,” he says after a held moment. He continues quickly once all the present company turn to him in confusion. “I have a deputy, and no plans to leave her jobless,” he says, to the benefit of Harper, who looked about ready to lash into him at the comment. The woman in question is no doubt a friend of hers. “But Raven’s more concerned with city planning, and getting the railroad to come this way than she’s ever been with watching crime. I could use another deputy with a good head on her shoulders, especially…”
He drifts off, but the look of contained excitement on Monty’s face suggests he suspects where Bellamy was going. “Especially when you’re mayor,” he finishes for him.
“You’re really going to run?” Harper asks with obvious excitement, the revelation news to her.
“Yeah,” Bellamy says, “I talked to Clarke about it today. She wasn’t exactly happy about it, but I can’t stand by her single minded viewpoints anymore. Killing anyone who might be a threat to the town isn’t a sound method of crime control,” here he indicates his head behind him, to where Murphy and Emori are still loitering about the pool table, eavesdropping Echo realizes now. “but she’s still unwilling to change. So we’ve decided to make it a fair race. I actually came by to tell you both. Meeting you was just a happy accident,” he says to Echo specifically. “You seem experienced in the type of situation we’re dealing with. I’d love to have you on my team.”
“You’ve known me less than an hour and you’ve gleaned all that?” she says, genuinely curious, but with a fair amount of good humor as well. By all accounts Bellamy seems to be a good man who associates with good, if morally dubious, people.
“It doesn’t take me long to gather the nature of a person,” he says with an intimate smile. For the first time in recent memory, her chest feels lighter, her heart excited. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know the horrible things she’s done in the name of justice and protection, no doubt he’s done the same, he’s seen the good in her too.
“Well that’s a load of horseshit,” Murphy interrupts, coming back to the bar. Emori reclaims her seat on Echo’s left, sneaking a sip of Bellamy’s untouched moonshine with only Echo to notice. “And to think our mayor is going to have your ego.”
“Be quiet, Murphy” Bellamy says, still focused on Echo.
“I think I’d like to stay for awhile,” she says. “Yours seems a worthy cause to fight for.”
Bellamy smiles at her as the other four erupt into debates about how to gain Bellamy favor in the election. His eyes only break away from hers when there’s a commotion at the door. A woman in fashionable yet practical clothing bursts into the room, her arms encumbered by a large stack of papers that seems at risk of falling at each of her limping steps.
“I just got back from the press, look at these bad boys,” she says to the room at large, holding up a poster with BELLAMY BLAKE FOR MAYOR printed proudly down the middle.
“Thank you Raven,” Bellamy says as Harper hurries over to take some of the papers, wasting no time in sticking them to her walls. “This is Echo,” he introduces, “She’s from up north, I’ve recruited her.”
“I’m Raven, it’s a pleasure,” she says, reaching out to shake her hand, then turning to Monty, “get me a drink, would you Green?”
The bar is a flurry of activity after that as the six of them discuss the town’s issues, and Echo is no expert, but she contributes when she can and the others listen and respond and make her question her ideals. Stories are flung around the room, Echo’s among them, and what an odd feeling it is, to feel accepted despite it.
Other patronnes come and go, stopping by to question Bellamy or to clap him on the back. Some even address her, wondering about her endeavors or welcoming her. Harper leaves at one point to collect her son, only for the boy to refuse going to bed and run around the bar to the delight of everyone except his parents. But eventually he’s tucked in, and the bar clears out, Bellamy the last to go. Monty brings her up to her new room, small but comfortable, the few belongings left in her saddlebag already there.
Echo pours herself another glass of water from the pitcher before climbing into bed. She finishes it and feels sated.