Chapter Text
A town straddles the cusp of the states of Wyoming and Colorado, serving as a rest stop between any neighboring settlements, and the most popular western settlement, Jackson. The townsfolk, who Dina finds quite similar to the ones in Jackson, welcomed their arrival after nearly two weeks of travelling. They were promised an in-depth tour of New Cheyenne by one of the people at the gate.
“If y’all give your bags to one of the people you rode in with,” a particularly stocky man says to them, “we’ll get your stuff settled in one of the big houses.”
“That’s real nice of you.” says Mack. He’s a sort of ringleader, though no one elected him. He declared, one evening when they were all around a few campfires, that he would “herd the sheep.” Though it sounded brash and egotistical in the moment, he did a fine job.
After half an hour of chaos at the stables, the horses are unloaded and uneasily stalled. Dina finds Abby at one half of the crowd, red-faced with exertion and sweating through her gray shirt.
“Hey, horse-wrangler.” Dina says cooly, tossing her a wink.
Abby nods, exhaling loudly from her mouth. She sets her bag on her foot and brushes the loose hair out of her face. “You can deal with Japan next time, since you love her so much.”
“I’ll leave that to the professionals.” she replies.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Abby rubs her shoulders. “Glad to be out of the saddle. My ass was numb.”
Dina giggles. “I feel that.”
“Are we bunkin’ tonight?” she asks.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Sweet. I’ll be back late, hopefully.”
Dina rolls her eyes. The sky looks nice, at least. All pink and orange, with a few clouds carrying the color beautifully.
The group splits into smaller portions. Abby leaves Dina, and in her place, Jesse walks next to her.
“We’re going to the bar.” Jesse tells her.
Wine is New Cheyenne’s most treasured drink, Dina learns quickly. After her second glass, the alcohol hits.
She pauses, then sets her glass on the bar. Tingling fibers curl around her arms and legs, weighing them down so much that she feels trapped on her bar stool.
The doors swing open and a burst of frigid air slices through the chatter and mirth. Two older men quickly wipe their boots off on the front mat, hang their jackets, and join an already-overflowing table.
Beside her, Jesse decides to take a breather as well.
“Gotta say, I think I prefer beer over this.” he tells her. His voice is barely audible over the roaring crowd and energetic music. Hardly anyone manages to make it up to the bar, instead losing themselves in the labyrinth of people. The only ones who’re able to skate through are the servers, who wear bright white shirts to distinguish themselves from the rest.
“Beer, you said?” The bartender shouts. He has a reddish-orange handlebar mustache and smiles brightly at the two of them. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that, son. They’ll take offense.”
“I don’t mean for it to be offensive. I just feel like, after a glass and a half, I’m ready to stop for the evening.” Jesse explains placatingly.
The bartender jerks his head up as a nod and pours a clear shot into a glass. “Well, you figure out where we can get some grain, and we’ll make you your beer.” he hollers gleefully. Once he steps away from them, Jesse speaks again.
“I don’t think I’m a wine guy.” he says, leaning in close so only Dina can hear.
“I’m with you on that.” Dina nods. “Do you think it’s normally this busy?”
Jesse scans the pub. If the lights weren’t hung from the tall ceilings, there’d be no room for them. A stray hand in the crowd fondly pets one of the mounted animals and taps its shiny black nose.
“No.” He tilts his head. “Maybe.” His eyes narrow and Dina follows his gaze.
The bartender returns with another glass, this one filled with a cloudy yellowish drink.
“Different from wine.” he offers, grinning.
Jesse cautiously takes the glass and swirls it. Wispy bits float in the mixture.
“The hell is this?” he laughs.
“Moonshine.” he booms. “And lemonade.”
Jesse raises his eyebrows at Dina. He lifts the glass up to his lips and takes a cautious sip. Almost immediately, his face twists into a look of discomfort and he coughs into his sleeve.
“That's awful.” he manages.
The bartender’s mustache curls as his grin expands twice over. “Are you gonna stick with the ‘shine or do you want something else?” He jerks his head again, this time to look at the person who just barged in behind the bar. “Hold that thought.”
Dina gestures for a sip of his glass. Just as she’s about to take a hearty drink, she locks eyes with them.
One of her eyes is black-- actually, scratch that-- both of her eyes are bruised, but the left one is much more swollen than the right. A faintly smoking cigarette sits firmly in the corner of her frown. She’s almost glaring.
Then her eyes dart away.
“How many of those you have?” the bartender asks while cleaning a shot glass.
She straightens up, standing just barely taller than him. “Yeah.” she utters.
He looks below the bar, at something in her hand. “Ashes?” He takes it from her. “I’ll get you another one.”
Her intense eyes flick back to Dina, who’d been staring. “Who’re they?” she asks. Dina feels the touch of her hawkish eyes even after they’ve left her.
“The, uh, Jackson folks.”
Her nod is slow, and she turns to face the shelf of drinks.
“Want anything?”
She shakes her head and leaves. They watch her part the crowd.
He looks at Jesse. “You’re fine with ‘shine?”
“Yeah.”
Dina finally gets a sip and has the same reaction as Jesse. Her eyelid flickers from the bitterness. “Wow, that’s--that’s fucking strong.” she wheezes.
Jesse laughs with her and takes the glass. “I think I prefer it over wine, though.” He takes another sip and clears his throat. “Fuck, man, it burns so bad.”
“Yeah, well, it’s either moonshine-drunk or wine-drunk, and I sure as fuck don’t want to hear about your exes and have you fall asleep on my shoulder.”
“Me either.”
They look at the crowd again. Even on busy nights, the most popular pub in Jackson doesn’t get nearly this busy. The others from Jackson blend in seamlessly in the mix of jean, cotton, and wool. Flickering Edison lights aid the hanging lights, though they add more atmosphere than actual light, and color the walls a soft gold.
Everything swells. The lights pierce Dina’s eyes and the chatter begins bothering her.
“Can we move somewhere else?” she asks, already moving off the stool.
“Yeah, sure.” Jesse holds her hand and forces through the crowd until they’re closer to the entrance of the establishment. “Too loud?”
“Yeah, a bit.” They stand shoulder-to-shoulder, Jesse cradling his drink, and Dina with her hands jammed in her pockets. When someone catches her eye, they smile kindly over to her.
“I feel that. It’s too busy.” he mumbles, leaning into her ear. “Where’s Abs?”
“Somewhere. I dunno.” Dina looks out the window, past the group in the booth who’re fervently playing slapjack. In the navy abyss, tiny twinkling stars wink at Dina through the glass. Feathery smoke lifts from nearby homes, carried by a gentle breeze. Nights like this, Dina wants to find a field and stare at the sky. She looks at the crowd, frowning.
“You gonna get some air?”
Dina’s already out the door.
A half-dozen empty chairs and barren tables litter the soft wood, and just beside the stairs that lead up to the deck, a shady silhouette leans over the railing. She casually ambles on over, softening her footfalls but pronouncing them enough to be noticed.
A thick lump of worry wells in her throat. Hopefully not vomit.
“Nice night.” she swallows harshly. Her voice, a croak, makes her cringe.
Minuscule bugs flick and flow around a dark, golden light dangling from a long post. In the brightness, they almost look like stars that have fallen from the inky sky. Music from the bar dribbles through the cracks and holes in the door and walls, while a few early crickets sing their hearts out.
Dina tears her eyes off the lamppost and focuses instead on her. Oh, her again.
A small breeze brushes past them and Dina becomes very aware of how bad this girl reeks. She laughs to herself, feeling stupid. Of course she smells like this. The thick, heavy, bulging bag of ashes--Dina feels quite stupid. Almost like a blanket, the smell of weed and tobacco surrounds her. In the faint light, Dina studies the redness around her irises. Her entire face, if she’s honest.
“I suppose.” she replies. Dina hopes that she ignores how badly she jumps in surprise.
“Not cool enough?” Dina leans fully on the railing, crossing her arms.
She dips her finger below the thick cast encasing her left hand. Her knuckles are bruised and purple, and tiny white scars dot her hand. “I’d like some rain.” She circles the edge of the cast and dips her chin. “Or snow.”
“Really?” Dina’s voice hovers at a whisper.
“Sure.”
Dina returns her gaze to the lamp.
“Loud as fuck in there.” she mumbles. Dina looks over to her and meets her gaze.
“Yeah.”
She gives her a quick up-and-down and nods slowly. “Yeah.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her face. “But poker’s not rigged.” she notes. “Although you’d fuckin’ think so ‘cause I lose so often.”
Dina chuckles. “What’re the bets usually?”
“Small. But god-fucking-damn if they don’t pretend they just won the entire treasury when they do win.” she grumbles. “Dude.” She lowers her head so that it hangs loosely between her shoulders. She sways side-to-side gently. “You… the fucking shit--and you think it doesn’t kick in. And then you get up and it’s just like,” she lowers her voice and straightens her back, “‘hey there, Ellie, sincerely hope you’ve been enjoying your evening thus far, I would deeply and greatly appreciate it if you now feel all the effects of the shit you’ve been smoking for the past four fuckin’ hours. Right now. Even though you’re four hours deep’ and… fuck.” She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head, returning to a slouch. “It’s not even the fucking evening and I’m a god damn… higher than a kite.”
“Wow.” Dina raises her eyebrows and stifles a laugh. She must be really high: there’s a hefty amount of emotion in her rambling. Hell, she gave the weed a pretend-voice.
“I don’t need any pity.” she sighs. “What I need is this fucking music to be louder.” She pulls out the music player that’d been dangling in her pocket and presses a button on the side a few dozen times. “C’mon, Wayne, fucking give it to me! Say that sexy fucking shit!” she shouts into the device.
Dina laughs aloud, shaking her head. “You’re gonna go deaf if you play it that loud.”
Ellie lifts her eyebrows at her and points to the wire leading up to her ear. “Sorry, can’t hear you over Wayne.”
“You’re high as fuck.” Dina snickers.
“I!” Ellie nods her head to the beat and starts humming. “I’d watch the classics, you know.” she says loudly. As if Dina could hear the music. “But the cowboy shit? Sweaty studs… no, they’re not studs. They’re, uh… whores. Yeah. Clint Eastwood’s a fuckin’ whore.” She laughs at herself. Her nose crinkles cutely as her smile widens. “Fuck, man, I’m so fucked up. You said that.” She laughs again. Her eyes are glassy and hazy when Dina manages to catch them. She swallows and nods her head shortly, seemingly embarrassed.
“Please, continue.” Dina gestures with her hand, smiling. Ellie returns her face to her hands. She stares at her cast. “What’s up with the cast?”
Ellie shakes her head again, her hair barely brushing her shoulders. “Punched a fucker right in the cheek.”
“Yeowch.”
“Was fucking ouch. And then I had to bring his stupid ass back.” she laughs, gesturing with her palm up as if Dina fully understood her lecture. “Just so I can fry. Fry and fuckin’ get fried.” She rests her sharp jaw on her hand. “What do they fry? Catfish?”
“Yeah. But I think people fry whitefish around here.”
“I’m a fucking whitefish.” she states. “I feel like a fucking fish, dude.”
“I bet.”
Ellie shakes her head again. Her eyes don’t seem to follow and she squints them shut, then she buries her face in her hands.
“You’re really high.” she repeats, a bit shocked.
“Yeah.”
“And you said you’ve been smoking for four hours?”
“Yeah.”
Dina raises her eyebrows. “Aren’t you thirsty?”
“I’m so fucking thirsty.”
“I’ll get you a drink, if you want.”
“No, no.” Ellie waves her bad hand. “I’ll shut up.” She sighs through her nose.
They stand in not-quite quiet for a bit, until Dina feels better.
She looks over to her. Her freckles spill over her nose and up to her forehead, too: she’s certainly sun-kissed. If Dina focuses hard enough, the music from her earbuds is just barely audible.
Ellie’s staring at nothing. In her own world. Dina says goodbye and goes back inside. Even after a half hour or so of meandering with Jesse around the front of the pub, Dina doesn’t see her again.
--
“I’m glad I’m not talkative when I’m high.” Jesse nods to himself. “Sounds like quite the stoner.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Dina leans on one foot, arms crossed around her chest. “I’m surprised she’s not greened out.”
Jesse continues nodding. He’s almost finished with his drink, but his pace is generous.
“What am I like when I’m high?”
Dina chuckles at the thought. “You just look at stuff. And you call everything beautiful.”
“Mm, sounds right.” He swirls the glass, and the little chunks of lemon spin lazily in the clearish liquid.
A shot goes off.
No one moves.
Jesse clutches his glass and looks to the window.
“Don’t you folks worry.” The bartender is on edge.
“That was far off.” Jesse whispers. He looks over his shoulder. “In a building, maybe.”
“Sounded like that.” Dina agrees.
The bartender speaks loudly, though there’s no one to overpower. “‘Less you’re fixing to get shot, stay inside for now.”
“I’m fixing to get a shot.” someone in the crowd replies, his words slurred. A few people laugh uneasily. “Any vodka?”
The song playing through the speakers changes, prompting some chatter. Jesse and Dina shoot each other a look.
A minute later, another one rings out. Instead of silence, a few people start shouting. A server nearby looks over to the bar, worried. Dina and Jesse move against the wall, watching it unfold.
“Woah, hey!” someone hollers. The crowd parts like water, and out of it steps Ellie, who’s marching towards the door with a pistol in her good hand.
“Shit, that’s her.” Dina weakly points as Ellie forces the door open and disappears down the stairs.
Jesse peers out the window, his eyes wide. “Really? Jesus.”
--
“Hey.” Ellie comes up to her, setting her hands on the bar. Her fingers are slender and bruised.
“Oh, hey.” Dina bumps her shoulder. Ellie takes a quick half step aside in response.
“I’d like to take you up on that drink offer. Just tell Gus I asked for the usual.”
“Okay.” She nods. Ellie disappears again. Dina glances at Jesse, who watched the interaction in stunned silence.
“Weed and alcohol don’t mix well.” Jesse notes. “You’ll have to ask her what’s what. And she’s high?”
The bartender steps over to the pair. “If she said something strange, please ignore her. She just got back from who-knows-where, and she likes to get high after that sort of thing.” he cautions.
“She said--I offered her a drink, and she said she wants her usual.”
He blinks at her. “Ellie?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. Dina gives him a look, as if to say; obviously, yes? He crouches down beneath the dazzling bar and returns with a seaweed-green bottle in one hand and two glasses squeezed between his fingers. “Alright, well. Don’t drop this.”
Dina worriedly meets his gaze. What have I gotten myself into?
Jesse moves past her to push through the crowd, towards an empty, dark hall.
“Not ominous.”
Dina glares at him. “You’re not helping.”
Jesse manages to smile. “Have fun!” He gives her two thumbs-up. “How was that?”
“Worse.” Dina stares at the door at the end of the hallway. The liquid courage running through her forces her legs to move. She stands a foot from the door, her heart beating in her throat.
Please, don’t open the door, she thinks sarcastically. The bottle feels like a brick in Dina’s hand. Inside, the liquid sloshes against the green glass like ink. Smoke wafts through the air escaping through the cracks of the door, and its scent is almost familiar to her. She fusses with the handle for a second until it clicks open.
Ellie’s lounging on a gray couch, watching Dina. A new cigarette is tucked in her mouth.
“Hi.”
Ellie chews her cigarette and her eyes flick to the bright television hanging over the fireplace. She grabs the couch’s frame with her right hand and heaves herself into a slouch. Her other hand, encased in a cast.
“How’s Tommy?” She licks her thumb and forefinger, then squeezes the tip of the cigarette. She’s entirely different from the Ellie she met on the deck.
“You know Tommy?” Dina asks with interest. She sets the glasses on a small table beside the couch and jabs a corkscrew through the top. Ellie’s eyes follow her, but she doesn’t move her head or speak.
Dina clears her throat. “He’s fine. So’s Maria. They actually just had a kid, if you can believe it.”
Judging by the unmoved look on her face, she can.
“And Jackson’s fine, too. It just keeps growing, dude.” She uncorks the seaweed-colored glass and glances at Ellie, who hasn’t turned her head. “I’ll pour for you.” she offers.
Ellie meets her gaze at last and finally stands. Dina eyes her form. The way her shoulders roll forward suggests she carries too much at once, or that she likes to slouch. Possibly both. She can’t decide whether or not her eyebrows are lowered on purpose, or if they’re adorned on her face that way. A sizable gap splits one of them into uneven pieces.
“Say when.” Dina tips the bottle. The amber liquid collapses on itself, hungrily wetting the dry glass like wildfire.
After a few seconds of silence, Ellie says, “That’s enough.” She instinctively reaches with her wrapped hand.
“What happened outside?” Dina asks.
Ellie sips quietly, blinking into her glass. She looks at Dina. The bruises are even worse up close. “Someone got upset.” she murmurs wetly. “If I were in his shoes, I’d be mad too, if I wasn’t fried.” She gestures with her bandage towards the ashtray, recently-extinguished cigarette, among other paraphernalia.
Dina laughs weakly, recalling Ellie’s rambling about frying. “I’d do the same.” She pours herself much less than she did for Ellie. “Just weed?”
Ellie lowers her gaze to the rolling papers and metal tin. She takes a pinch of the dried leaves and nods slowly. “It’s a mix.” she replies. An actor on the television screams in pain, quickly grabbing their attention. Ellie falls back on the couch and languidly gestures to a chair near the corner of the room.
“There’s a chair.” she says.
Dina grabs the chair by the back and sets it a few feet away from the couch, finding Ellie’s gaze upon her still. She’s half unnerved with the staring. Ellie stills her good hand, which had been gauging the pain of her blackened eye. The fire hits her face, forcing her nose to cast a dark shadow over half of it.
“Have we met?” she asks casually.
“On the deck. Maybe an hour ago.”
Ellie’s head moves slightly, as if to nod. She’s expressionless. Dina debates leaving.
“Right.” Ellie sounds like she’s in the middle of a sentence. “What’s your name?” she asks, eyes focused on the screen.
“Dina.”
Ellie lifts the glass to her lips. “And the other guy’s name?” She takes a sip. “The one you were drinking with.”
“Oh, my friend, Jesse.”
She hums. “So we’re about the same age.” she murmurs.
“Where are you getting this?” Dina asks with a short laugh.
Ellie holds out her fist. “You drink.” She lifts a finger. “You smoke.” Another. “And you have a husband.”
Dina snorts. “Jesse’s not my husband, don’t worry.”
Ellie tilts her chin towards her. After a moment, Dina realizes she’s smiling. Her lips are neutral and straight; however, her eyes have a certain light in them. The stoniness of her voice gives ever so slightly, allowing for her amusement to escape. “He looked real pissed when you stared at me.” She returns to the television.
Dina lifts her eyebrows for a moment. “Dunno why.”
Ellie hums. Lots of humming in New Cheyenne, Dina notes. She moves her head to her good hand, forming an ‘L’ with her forefinger and thumb and sits her sharp jaw on it.
They sit in silence. Uncomfortable, slightly, for Dina, but Ellie is unreadable. Part of her wonders if she’s forgotten her presence, another blames the weed.
“How long’ve you been smoking?” Dina asks, shattering the quiet. “You told me on the porch, I think.”
Ellie’s tongue darts past her lips. “Smoking?” she repeats. “Uh, I dunno. Like, four years.” Her head rolls to face Dina. “Once every few months.” She reads Dina’s face in an instant, somehow digesting all the minute details in her skin within the blink of an eye. “Today, uh…” She traces her lip, thinking. “Four hours and whatever minutes.”
“Jesus.” Dina murmurs.
Ellie clears her throat. “You?”
“Oh, uh, not as often, and not nearly as much.” Her laughter is airy. Ellie just blinks at her. “Whenever there’s weed, I’d like to. But, you know, it’s hard to come by.”
A sort of vindication is given to her when Ellie nods. “Yeah.” She pinches her sweatshirt and lifts it to her nose, her inhale loud and deep, as if she’s trying to breathe in the maroon fabric. Slowly, she drops it, and her eyes turn lovingly to the awaiting cigarette.
“The guy at the bar, he said you just got back from somewhere.” Dina speaks again, breaking the short silence. Ellie seems to revel in it, but her questions escape with no resistance. Something is intimidating about her, the same way Dina imagines a high-ranking officer in the Old World’s military would be; however, she’s too intrigued to shut up.
Ellie hums for the umpteenth time. “And I’d like to enjoy my time off.” she replies, although her words hold no malice or edge.
They watch long-dead men for a little while. Until Dina works up the courage to continue prying.
“So, two people were mad at each other? That’s it?”
Ellie knits her fingers together. “Uh, it’s a long story. And it’s indiscreet.” There’s an edge of amusement in the final word. Dina cocks an eyebrow at her. “This guy killed two people.”
“And that’s…?”
Ellie frowns and tilts her head to the side as a sort of dismissive gesture. “A very pared down version.”
Dina slowly nods. “Not very satisfying, not gonna lie.” Ellie makes a short noise. At first Dina thinks nothing of it. She glances over to Ellie, who’s smiling. “Was that a fucking laugh?” she teases. “You’re gonna laugh at that? I swear I’ve said a million funny things.”
Ellie’s smiling with her lips now. “The weed’s wearing off.” Her eyes flick to the tin momentarily before returning to Dina’s. “I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“So you’re a stone-faced stoner?”
Her smile widens. She rubs her eyes with her thumb and pointer finger. “Sure.”
Dina snorts, her grin matching Ellie’s. She lifts the cold glass to her lips and Ellie’s curious gaze is burning a hole into her forehead. Thankfully, someone knocks loudly on the door. Ellie’s smile melts as she stands from the couch.
“Is there a ‘come on in sign’ or something?” she grumbles lowly, ignoring Dina’s surprised look. She twists the knob and stands behind the door.
“Uh…” the man at the door gawks at Dina.
“What?” Ellie barks. She pushes the door away to block his view of her.
He sighs. Tired. Bone-fucking-tired. “They want you to bury him,” he says, “tomorrow morning.” In the light of the fire, the muscles along Ellie’s cheek ripple. “Funeral sled, we’ll get that fixed up. You just need to--”
“--to dig his grave.” she finishes, her voice flat and edging on annoyance. “My hand’s broken.”
After a second, he clears his throat, sounding sheepish. “I could have someone dig it for you. Just need you to be lookout. We’ll pay for your smokes and drinks and whatnot.” The door closes with a soft click and she returns herself to the couch. Dina feels sympathetic for her, though still surprised.
“How long’re you staying?” Ellie asks casually, as if the conversation hadn’t happened, while eyeing her weed. Just like that, she’s softened again.
Stunned silence settles between them for a second. “A month, I think.” she answers.
Ellie taps her foot on the ground. “Wonder if they’ll let you elect a new sheriff. Do you want more brandy?” she asks, rising.
“Oh, no, thanks. I’ve already had too much.”
“More for me, then.” She hovers over the table. “So, uh, was I acting like a dumbass on the deck?” she asks gingerly.
Dina snickers. “You were very loud.” Although she can’t see her face, Dina knows she’s cringing. “And you would not shut up about these movies.”
Ellie’s scoff echoes across the wall. The brandy gurgles softly as she pours another glass.
“And Clint Eastwood. And someone you were listening to.” she continues. “And, overall, you were high off your fucking ass.” Dina smiles. Ellie turns and she’s smiling too. Her cheeks are dimpled so beautifully in the firelight, like freckled marble. “It was really cute.”
Her tongue flicks past her lips as she lifts the glass to her lips. Her eyes lower and drift away.
Dina moves off the subject. “But you sobered up very fast, huh?”
Ellie tilts her head. “Yep.” She sits, ankles crossed, on the arm of the sofa. “Should I even keep asking about my dumbass while I was high?”
Dina’s eyes roll up to the ceiling as her smile returns. “You should. Compared to how you are now, I mean, it’s crazy.”
Ellie’s hair sways as she nods. “Go ahead, then.”
--
Ellie stands behind the door again, cracking it open less than an inch. “Did you read his will?” she asks.
“Yeah, yeah.” The sound of fumbling paper comes from the other side. “He, uh, wanted to be buried outside New Cheyenne aways. I’ll, uh… who do you want to dig it?”
“Bradley Shaw, obviously.” She crosses her arms. The man chuckles softly.
“Well, shit, if you try your hand at necromancy, they, uh, got him behind the sheriff’s.”
“I don’t care who digs.” Ellie responds. “Don’t knock again.”
As the door closes, he whispers; “thank you.” Ellie nudges it with her foot until it clicks shut. Dina’s eyes follow her as she returns to her spot on the arm of the couch.
“Oh no, don’t give me that look.” Ellie smirks. Dina cocks her eyebrow. “I’m not going to be responsible for driving all you nice Jackson people out.” she says, now cradling her glass.
“So are you going to give me the not-pared down version or no?”
Ellie rolls her eyes. “I was paid to bring Bradley Shaw,--” she points her finger to the wall, possibly towards the sheriff’s office, “--here, so the nice, unsuspecting saxophonist could torture him for an entire day.”
Dina raises her eyebrows and slowly nods, cupping her face with her hand. “And he broke your hand?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And he managed to kill him after being tortured?”
Ellie tilts her head the same direction she pointed. “Plus our dearly departed sheriff.”
“Wow.”
Ellie nods. Dina pretends not to notice her scouring eyes.
“Satisfied?” she asks.
Dina shrugs. “I think that’s all I’ll manage to get out of you. Unless you start inhaling that weed.” She nods to the tin. Ellie purses her lips and slightly shakes her head.
“I’m just gonna call it a night.” Dina jabs her thumb at the door, wordlessly asking if she should leave. “I’m just done smoking. You can stay.” She sets her glass on the table. “Unless you want to go back to Jesse.” she adds, an afterthought.
Dina’s already made her decision.
“ Is there anything else I can get out of you, or do I have to keep talking?” Dina inquires.
Ellie clicks her tongue and stares at the floor, tapping her finger against her cast in thought. “Probably not.” A smile flickers across her lips. “But, since you’re, uh, cool, you’ve been promoted to sitting on the couch.”
Dina gets to her feet, smiling coyly. “Seems like a one-sided deal.”
Ellie eyes her as she sits down. “And yet you’re over here anyway.” Her smirk is audible.
“I’ll take what I can get.” she replies cooly. Ellie tsk’s and finishes her brandy.
Her finger idly traces the rim of the glass for a moment. The firelight makes her look like a painting. Her jaw is clenched. Strange to see someone at war with themselves.
“Thanks for this.” she finally says. There’s a certain uncertainty in her voice, one Dina can pick up on.
She almost wants to tease her. Normally, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
“Hey, no problem. Sounds like you definitely deserve it.” Dina smiles warmly, hoping Ellie feels it. “It’s pretty good, honestly.” Ellie turns her head to her. “Better than that wine.”
A soft glow fills her relaxed eyes. The look sets loose butterflies in Dina’s stomach, yet she returns it without hesitation. Ellie slumps onto the other cushion, resting one foot on the couch and the other on her knee. She glances at the TV, then lets her eyes wander around the room. More comfortable silence.
A few minutes into the quiet, Ellie finishes the brandy and closes her eyes.
“Is your head doing that spinning thing?” Dina asks.
Ellie cracks a smile. “Yeah.”
“Fun, huh.”
She hums in response.
Another handful of time passes. It’s hard to gauge how long without a clock to read, though the fire gives Dina a bit of reference. As far as she can tell, Ellie doesn’t mind her anymore, based on the amount of smiling and laughing.
Dina’s head rolls to the side and she stares at the dying fire.
“Do you need to add another log?”
“Mm, no. I’m gonna head home soon.”
Dina hums this time. “Well.” She stands and Ellie watches. “Hope to see you around.”
“Yeah.” Ellie shuffles over to the door and lays her hand on it. “I’ll be in town.” She tugs it open.
“See you, Ellie.”
--
“Wrong room.” someone mumbles sleepily. Dina apologizes and shuts the door.
The last room in the large house is empty. When Dina flicks the light on, she immediately melts at the sight of the queen-sized bed.
She kicks off her boots and sheds her sweater before falling onto it. It smells fresh and soft, and a hint of lavender floats around the pillow. Dina practically rips her clothes off, throws them beside her bag, and falls asleep with the lights on.
A creaking noise wakes her. She lifts her head and squints. In the dark, Abby chuckles. Dina drops her head and listens to Abby’s clothes shuffle and hit the hardwood floor.
“Ah.”
Dina manages to discern her broad figure from the darkness: she’s bent over for a moment before she reaches the mattress. The bed dips under her weight.
“Your shirt almost took me out.” she drawls delicately as she wiggles under the covers. “Oh, man, this is fucking heaven.” she moans.
Dina hums and lays on her side, away from Abby. “Did you score tonight?” Abby takes the cue and scoots up behind her to lay her arm around her waist.
She groans, hurt. “No, I did not.” Her nose is cool against her neck and she gently pats Dina’s stomach. “You?”
“Nope.”
Abby sighs warmly in her ear, eliciting goosebumps. “Still got a month.”
“Mm-hmm.” Dina shuffles closer, pressing her back against Abby’s chest. She laughs once. “Someone thought Jesse was my husband.”
Abby scoffs. “D, you could do so much better.”
“I’ll tell him you said that.” she murmurs.
“Tell him that I spoon you, too.”
“He knows.”
“Really?”
Dina covers Abby’s hand with her own. “Yeah, remember? It was on, uh, patrol. One of the longer ones. We went to… shit, I don’t remember where. But you were spooning me through two sleeping bags.”
Abby snickers. “Faintly.” She laces her fingers between Dina’s, giving her a soft squeeze. She inhales deeply and makes a soft noise. “You smell.”
“Like weed?”
Abby’s hand moves up to her hair and she runs her fingers through it. “Yeah. You already found someone to hook you up?”
“Nah, I spent the whole night with a stoner, pretty much.”
“Fun.” Abby keenly massages her scalp. “How’s this?”
“Feels really nice.” Dina murmurs, already drifting.
“M’kay, good. Get some sleep, stinky.”
Dina elbows her, making her laugh. She falls asleep to her touch and dreams of cowboys.