Chapter Text
Abigail gave her reflection one last critical glance. Her long, dark hair was pulled up in a complicated braid, decorated with a light blue ribbon which matched her exquisite silk dress in colour.
All in all she looked like a prized lap dog.
Outside she could her the buzzing of a city preparing for another day. The already humid air promised a hot summer day and Abigail was sweating in her over-the-top getup, though it may not be due to the heat only.
She slowly made her way to a window of her father’s estate facing towards the main road and carefully peered outside. From the first floor she had perfect view on the coach waiting in front of the steps leading up to the house. Gleaming in the sunlight and drawn by two picture-perfect white horses, it looked like something out of her childhood fairytale books. Standing in front of the ensemble, one Mister Thomas Albridge. She couldn’t deny that he wasn’t bad to look at, wearing a fashionable suit and top hat over his slicked back blond hair. And it wasn’t as if Thomas was a bad choice. Oh no, her father made certainly sure nothing but the best came anywhere near his only daughter. Old Nathan Roberts made his money in the oil business and wished for a future son-in-law to be as successful. If only his taste in bachelors wasn’t this dreadful. While Albridge was well-off and certainly one of the more sought-after men in town, he was the most self-obsessed individuals she has ever come across. And in the circles she frequents, there are quite a lot of those.
As Abigail turned her back to the window, she crossed her eyes towards one of the housemaids, Ann. Ann giggled politely and softly put a wayward curl in place behind Abigails ear. “You shouldn’t keep Mister Albridge waiting, you know how pleased your father is with him.” Abigail sighed in defeat. “Truly a man only a father-in-law could love. Well, let’s get this over with.” With Anns help she descended down the stairs without putting a wrinkle to the skirt and gave the maid's hand one last squeeze before putting on a smile and opening the front door.
The things you do for your father.
Outside she was greeted by the face-splitting smile of Thomas Albridge.
“Miss Roberts!” Albridge beamed as he approached her, taking her hand and kissing it. “How wonderful that you finally found some time for me.” Abigail allowed him to help her up the coach while he kept chattering on, giving the driver the sign to take off as he placed himself next to Abigail. The coach took off towards the city centre and she let the houses pass her by without real focus. She had lived all her life in this house, on that road, and nothing had really changed the past 20 years.
Leaving the wealthy parts of the city, they every now and then passed by a beggar sitting on the street and Abigail felt the need to avert her gaze, somewhat ashamed of their decadent appearance. Thomas didn’t seem aware of anything outside his little bubble at all, his head high with the confidence of a victorious general returning from war.
As he noticed Abigails gaze, he once again turned his attention towards her.
“I hope you are well rested my dear, because this day has a lot in store for you!”
Abigail hoped her smile didn’t appear as awkward as it felt.
“Oh lord, how come I am deserving of such a treat!” In all honesty she would rather be back at home, mucking out her fathers stables all on her own instead. Be strong Abi, she told herself.
“You, my dear, deserve the world on a silver platter! But there is something I have to confess…”, he averted his eyes away from her in an overly dramatic fashion. Forcing her clenched jaw into another smile, Abigail purred at him. “Oh, and what may that be?”
“Before we can fully enjoy ourselves on this beautiful day, there is something business-related I need to get over with first. Would you mind waiting for me at the coffeehouse? It won’t be long, and feel free to order whatever your heart desires, it’s all on me today.” Abigail nodded and patted her gloved hand on his. “Of course that is no issue. I will be awaiting you with patience.”
The coach came to a stop. Thomas jumped out quickly and helped her down, and with her arm linked in his, led her across the plaza towards one of the finest coffeehouses in town. Then, with another kiss to her hand he was off, and Abigail placed herself on one of the artfully crafted chairs outside the establishment. She could still see Thomas’ back, retreating towards the coach in quick strides.
Suddenly, he was approached by a dirty looking, elderly woman who softly patted his shoulder, a hat in her right hand. He reacted as if burned, jumping sideways and making a show out of brushing his hand over the shoulder the woman just touched. He sped off and onto the coach without a second glance.
The whole scene took place in less than ten seconds but it left a clenching feeling in Abigails stomach. It wasn’t as if she ever contributed to any samaritan cause herself, but she liked to imagine herself as one of the good people. And while she felt clueless at how to act up on it, she knew an ass of a man when she saw one.
As Abigail kept musing, one of the well-groomed waiters served her orders. Herbal tea, served in a lovely porcelain can and a piece of raspberry tart. She filled a delicate cup with the steaming tea and leaned back, watching her surroundings.
It was early noon by now, and the city of New Rovenor buzzed with life. Important looking men entered and left the bank while their wives in wide and heavy dresses gushed over hats at the taylor’s or exchanged the latest gossip under their little, twirling umbrellas.
She had just finished her tart and sprinkled the crumps on the ground for two eagerly chirping sparrows when she heard the screaming. Abigail didn’t have time to locate the source before there was a deafening explosion, shattering the windows of the bank, opposite side of the plaza.
Later, whenever she tried to put what then happened in order, she could never quite get it right as it all happened so fast. Suddenly there were lawmen everywhere, the first shots fell and the whole plaza erupted in chaos with chairs sent flying as people leaped up and away. Abigail took off too, but almost more scared of getting crushed by the terrified stampede. Hoisting up her skirt she made a run for the next alleyway, a dark and dusty space between a tobacconist’s shop and a residential house. Her heart was beating fast as she pressed herself tightly against the wall, trying to force her heavy breathing to quiet down.
Think logically, she forced herself. If this is a bank robbery, all you need is to stay out of the way and you should be fine, right?
Content with her theory she painfully slowly leaned forward and peeked out at the centre of the commotion. The criminals must have made their grand escape already, the loud clopping of horses running on cobblestone roads taking off in the distance, with half the police in hot pursuit; half taking in the damage done.
The brunette leaned back against the wall, sighing in relief. What a spectacle, and there she was, thinking it would be an awfully boring day.
Abigail almost jumped out of her skin when she felt something cold and hard getting pressed into the side of her head, making her jerk up instinctively before being pulled back into the darkest parts of the alley by a gloved hand on her mouth.
“I don’t want to hurt you”, a muffled voice croaked behind her. “As long as you stay quiet, nothing will happen,”
Abigail almost forgot how to breathe through her nose, her body filling with fear and her head getting heavy from the lack of air.
This cannot be happening to her. Thinking the robbers had taken off, only to get captured while in the false embrace of safety? She couldn’t help but shake violently, she was not ready to die, not at twenty years old, not in some dirty alleyway.
“Hey, hey, calm down, as I said, you just need to stay quiet.”,the man hissed but lowered the gun away from her head.
“Okay, and next I will take my hand away and we will go separate ways and you will stay quiet, alright?” Abigail nodded heavily against the hand on her face. “Good, because I will hear you scream and - “
His threat came to a sudden stop when the alley echoed the shrill squeak of a whistle.
Apparently the leftover policemen were done taking in the crime scene and now had blocked the one-way exit to the alley, guns drawn at the figure behind her.
Once again, there was a tight grip on her, the gun back in its previous position.
“Drop the weapon and hands up!” one of the officers barked, an older man, half his face hidden behind a bushy moustache.
The man behind her jerked backwards, pulling her with him.
“No step closer or the woman is dead!” he shouted in a dry voice. They now had entered the backyard behind the buildings. And there, hitched to a gate, a horse. It shook his head nervously at the commotion and as the man pushed Abigail towards it, he made calming noises towards it.
She hoped it worked on the horse, as she felt anything but.
As the police entered the backyard, the man threw her onto the back of the animal. Now with the law here, she didn’t feel concealing her screams was necessary anymore. As she screeched in terror, the man mounted the horse in front of her, giving Abigail the first chance to look at her capturer, if only at his back.
He turned the horse to face the police straight on, gun raised high.
“One wrong move and she’s a goner!” he shouted once more. Suddenly a bullet flew by his head, missing him through sheer luck. The man cursed heavily and suddenly the horse dashed forwards, forcing the policemen to jump sideways to avoid getting crushed by the animal. And then they were out in the open, the horse in a wild sprint through the city and Abigail just clenched herself around the its hind desperately. The lawmen now followed them on horseback too, and with terror she realized they were shooting.
What if they accidentally hit her, or the horse?!
Her shrill screeching, the constant “shit” chants of the rider and the horse’s heavy breathing made for a ridiculous mash of noises. Sometimes he would turn around and answer the shots with some of his own, then his attention would be back on the road and forcing his horse into sharper twists and turns. Abigail could already see herself flying off into certain death at every narrow corner they took last second, and she wondered if the man had forgotten about his unintentional passenger.
Then they were out of the city, leaving New Rovenor’s smoking chimneys behind, as well as the lawmen, who were unable to keep up with the flecked animal’s zigzagging and long strides.
It felt like they kept on riding for an eternity and Abigail gladly would have kept on screaming throughout it all, if it weren’t for the twisting feeling in her stomach. She wished she had not eaten the tart, as for now, getting thrown around on a sprinting horse in a tight corset made her want to let go of everything she had ever eaten in all of her life.
They passed woods and rivers, long stretches of open grassland until the horse started slowing down, gratefully taking the rider’s invitation to slow down to a walking pace.
From her position flat on the horse's hind, she could see the man pull down the bandana which previously covered most of his face, otherwise hidden under a wide black hat.
He ran a hand over his face and groaned heavily.
“Shit, Hosea’s gonna have my ass for that messup.”
He then brought the horse to a full stop and slipped down. Feeling like a well-shaken drink her father likes to enjoy in the evening, she couldn’t even try to put up a fight as the man grabbed her by the waist and placed her back on her feet.
For the first time she stood face-to-face with her kidnapper. She guessed him to be not much older than herself, a boyish face framed by wild raven hair and matching dark eyes, some stubbles on his chin. Abigail was surprised to see a young man, as his deep and croaky voice made her imagine him older.
As he stood in front of her, he suddenly looked quite helpless, as if not knowing what to do next. With a scrunched up nose he had the audacity to tip his head at her as he murmured “Sorry miss for getting caught up in this.”
All the fear in her body was replaced by red-hot rage.
“Sorry?! You are sorry?! For what exactly, putting a gun to my head, threatening me, kidnapping me, or forcing me into the middle of a shootout?!” Abigail screamed at the man, her voice squeaky and shrill from the previous screaming.
The man actually took a step back and raised his hands as if held at gunpoint.
“As I said, I’m sorry. You just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He walked past her and climbed the horse once more.
“Feel free to refuse my apology, I will be on my way and you are free to go.”
As he turned the horse away, Abigail leaped forward and clutched the reins in her hands, once again panic in her eyes.
“Hey! You are not leaving me here, right?! This is the middle of nowhere, and it’s getting dark, I would be eaten by wolves in seconds! You put me in this situation, least you can do is take me back!”
The dark haired man cocked an eyebrow at that.
“If I go anywhere near that city anytime soon I am a dead man. Don’t you think the law is on my track as we speak?” Abigail felt her face heat up in embarrassment and anger.
“But you can’t just leave me here!”
She must have made for a truly pathetic view as the man closed his eyes for a second or two, sighed, and finally held out his hand for her.
“Okay” he grunted. “You can come with me, if only to clear my conscience of being responsible for some girl’s death.”
Abigail hesitated for a second. Where would he take her, and what would he do to her? The only thing she knew about this man was that he’s an outlaw. A gun-wielding, bank-robbing, police-shooting outlaw. But he brought her into this mess, and was her only way out again. And seemed to have some sick and twisted form of ethics, since she was mostly unharmed, apart from the shaking she had received.
So she took a firm grip on his large hand and allowed him to pull her back onto the broad back of his horse. At least she was actually sitting up this time.
“Abigail Roberts.”
“Huh?”
“My name, Abigail Roberts. I think we reached the point of knowing each other’s name by now.”
“Ah. John Marston.” he tipped his hat at her.
And with that they took off in a trot, towards the rocky paths at the foot of the valley.