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Butch Merrill has never been any good at tailing folks. He’s damn good with horses and a damn good shot, but people in every sense of the word have always eluded him. This instance is no different, and his bounty is getting away.
The man in question is about three lengths ahead, and Butch has been following him long enough for his leg to start acting up. He bobs and weaves through the streets like he knows he’s being followed, and honestly? He probably does. Butch just needs to catch him, and everything will be better. He’ll either get him into the sheriff's office and collect the bounty, or he’ll convince him to let him tag along for the ride. The ride, oh what Butch wouldn’t give for a horse right now. This would be so much easier on horseback. Before anything, he needs to make enough to buy Concerto back from the stables. He shifts his focus back to the streets and, damn! He’s gone! Butch stops dead, trying very hard to look lost rather than like he’s just lost track of a bounty. He looks up at the street sign on the corner, not really reading it, and turns on his heel to start back the way he came. He’ll just go around the block the other way and-
A hand shoots out of the alleyway and grabs his collar. It drags him into the alley, out of the sight of any pedestrians. Butch grits his teeth and prepares for a fight, not that he has much to lose, when a different hand comes out of nowhere and throws him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Butch sees stars, but those stars clear like birds after a gunshot when he hears the sound of a safety clicking off. He nearly has to cross his eyes to look at the barrel of the thing, pointed straight at his face. He looks past the gun, and sees his assailant properly for the first time. Jack ‘The Ace’ MacAllen, one of the most notorious outlaws left in North America. And his damn bounty.
The gun stays where it is, and The Ace grabs his collar again. “Who do you work for? Why are you following me?” His voice is low and gruff, if only Butch could enjoy it.
“I- ”
“Answer me straight or I’ll blow your head clean off.” The Ace’s eyes are cold, and Butch knows he means it. This is not the kind of man who does things out of the kindness of his heart, especially not for people caught tailing him.
“I don’t work for anyone, I swear.” Butch swallows, keeping his voice steady. He is definitely not getting the bounty on this one. “I need to talk to you.”
—
Jack eyes the man below him with scrutiny. He’s small, sort of flighty-lookin, but he’s got a strong jaw and hardened eyes. Well, almost hardened eyes. There’s something behind his gaze that makes Jack think if one more thing happens to this fellow, he’ll break. His hands are steady, held flat against the ground. Good, he’s smart. He’s probably a bounty hunter, but he’s got to have another angle for the business as his size isn’t doing him any favors. Jack likes his chances, and he’s more than a little curious. Matthew always said his curiosity would get him killed one day, but today isn’t the day. Jack lets go of his collar.
“I’m gonna put the gun away, and you’re gonna stand up slowly. Hands in the air.” He stands and takes a step back, then holsters his gun.
The man nods, once, sorta businesslike. Then he leans forward, gets his legs under him, and uncrouches slowly, hands spread wide on either side of his head.
“What’d you want to talk about?” Then, more than a little mockingly, “I don’t even know your name.”
The man’s eyes go a little startled at that, and he starts to lower his hands and stammers, something. Jack puts his hand on his gun again. The man stops, puts his hands back where they were, and speaks.
“My name is Butch Merrill.” This he says proudly, almost defiantly. As if someone had tried to take it from him, but he held on. “I need to talk to you about gettin’ out of here.”
Butch Merrill looks him dead in the eyes at this, and Jack can’t help it. Julia, Julia always tells him he has good in him somewhere. Maybe this is where.
“Lemme see what I can do.”
—
Butch sighs in relief. “Any chance I can put my hands down? I swear I won’t shoot you.” The Ace looks him up and down once more, maybe weighing his chances, and nods. He turns away and motions for Butch to follow. Once they’re out of the alleyway, Butch speaks up. “So, uh, Mr. MacAllen-”
“Mr. MacAllen was my father. Call me Ace.” He seems to take some pride in that, understandably so. Butch hates his farher’s name, but he doesn’t have another one, so Merrill it is. His first name is a different story.
“Ace it is. Where are you taking me?” He can’t help but be nervous, and he fiddles with the cuff of his sleeve as Ace answers.
“I’m taking you to my camp, where we can discuss exactly what “gettin’ out of here” looks like.” He looks back over his shoulder, a smirk in his eyes. “You’re a shit tail y’know. Caught sight of you in the windows across the street and picked your footsteps out of the noise once you’d made a few turns with me.” He says this as if it’s obvious. Hell, Butch had never even thought of his footsteps giving him away. The windows he had, though he had been banking on the crowd protecting him.
“Have you thought that maybe you’re just especially good at sniffing out tails?” Butch tries to take longer strides, stops trying when his knee protests, and settles for faster ones instead. Goodness Ace is tall. Well, taller than him at least, which isn’t much of an accomplishment. “I’ve done this before, successfully mind you, and I’ve never even thought of minding my footsteps in a place like this.” Ace smiles at this. Well, kind of. His lips quirk up for a moment, then settle back into ‘don’t screw with me, I hit hard.’
“That could be part of it. Left up here.”
They walk in silence for a bit, until the city thins out into village and the village thins into plains. There up ahead, is a pitched tent and a hitched horse.
Ace makes a beeline for the horse, which is quite a specimen. It’s big and powerful, some kind of war horse probably, with snow white splotches on an ink black coat. The beast has a spectacular white face, with a mane and tail to match.
“Come’ere Butch.”
Butch starts from where he’d been watching the horse, and walks over to stand beside Ace. “This is Lucifer. He’s a beaut, ain’t he?” He runs a hand down Lucifer’s neck, then grabs Butch’s wrist.
“Hey I- ”
“Calm down, calm down, I’m not gonna hurt you. Lucifer might though, he’s a good judge of character.”
Butch had been doing his best to give the horse some distance. He’s good with them, but with a man like The Ace you never know what his horse is like. Now though, Ace pulls him by the wrist to stand just to the side of Lucifer’s head, in full view. Good, he thinks, at least he knows his horses. Ace lets go of his wrist.
“Hold your hand up to his nose, let him smell you.” Butch breathes, then holds his hand up to the horse. “If he bites you, back up then keep on walkin’, cause I won’t be helping you.” Butch tries not to take that personally. He’d probably do the same if their situations were reversed. Thankfully, Lucifer does not bite him. In fact, he presses his nose against Butch’s fingers until he opens his hand and pets him. His nose is velvety, and his eyes are clear and knowing.
Butch sees Ace’s reflection in those eyes a split second before it happens, but it doesn’t prepare him. “Good man!” Ace claps him hard on the shoulder and shakes him, and Butch pulls his hand away from the horse. “You’ve gotta be a damn good man Butch, Luci’s never let anyone but me touch him.” He’s smiling for real now, a close-lipped thing sure, but a smile nonetheless. “Come sit, I’ll get you something to drink.”
—
A few drinks later, and both men are pleasantly buzzed. The sun is starting to kiss the tops of the hills, and the fire has gotten going.
Jack sits back near to Butch after stoking the fire a bit, and settles down. He takes a sip of his drink, then speaks. “So, what does ‘gettin’ out of here’ look like to a man like you?” Butch stills at the question. Jack can nearly see the thoughts racing through his head. Hell if I can see that, I wonder how well you can read this guy if you actually know him.
“I’m gonna be honest with you, Ace.” Well uh oh. “I was planning on turning you in for the bounty.” Butch turns to him, and something happens to his eyes in the firelight. They seem to catch with the wood, turning from an odd light hazel color to a brilliant gold. It pins Jack in place, takes his breath away a little. He hopes it’s not showing on his face. “I’m not gunning for that anymore. Gettin’ out of here looks like running away with a plan. I’d like you to be part of it.” Jack doesn’t quite hear what he says after that. Something odd is turning in his gut, but he manages to push it away and focus again. “- I’ll need your help if I’m gonna get this done.” Butch has got a foolish, earnest expression on his face. Something that says exactly what his words do.
“Just tell me what I can do.”