Chapter Text
You wake up from shouting.
Probably just Arthur making jokes about Pearson’s world-famous “soup,” and Pearson yelling back like always.
Shit. What time is it, actually?
And a better question:
Do those two brain-fried idiots really have to shout across the whole camp... about damn food?
Rubbing your cold, shaky hands over your face, you sat up on your sleeping bench, your back aching sweetly.
“I’m getting old,” you muttered under your breath.
Through a small gap in your tent, you caught sight of Miss Grimshaw scolding little Jack again – throwing rocks at the chickens, apparently.
A soft chuckle escaped you.
Sweet kid. But the chickens probably don’t enjoy getting pelted like that.
You started getting ready for the day.
You strapped on your gunbelt, straightened the old grey-and-black checkered shirt, and splashed cold water from the barrel onto your face.
Miss Grimshaw was already marching your way – probably to nag you about fetching herbs again.
“Good morning to you,” she said with a half-hearted smile.
“So... what is it this time? Red sage? Some other fancy nonsense?”
“Well, yeah. But that’s not what I’m here for.”
She looked like she was asking, but it sure sounded like a demand.
“I need help with the laundry.”
“Why me? Can’t any of the girls help you?”
I was already frowning at the thought of washing John’s pants. That man’s filthier than a sewer rat.
Grimshaw sighed, placing her hands on her hips.
“Of course not. Arthur’s taking the girls shopping in Valentine. And I’m not doing this alone again! So get over yourself and help out.”
“Ugh, fine. But first, I need to eat something,” I said reluctantly.
Thankfully, that satisfied her, and she turned on her heel.
“That woman’s a force of nature,” you muttered, shaking your head.
Well... guess it’s time to get over yourself and eat that so-called “soup” from Pearson.
You had just left the dishes on the table when you called out for Pearson.
"Pearson?” "Pearson!"
“Whaat?” he shouted back, putting down the knives and the piece of meat he was working on. He looked at you with a grumpy face.
“Just wanted to thank the cook. But maybe you should add more spices next time—maybe it will cover the horrible taste,” you said with a mean grin.
“Oh, thank you, another idiot. If you don’t like it, then go make something yourself!” He turned back to his knives and chopped the meat with force. You smiled to yourself, almost proud to have gotten on his nerves.
You turned and looked straight into Miss Grimshaw’s eyes. She just shook her head at you while kneeling at the laundry, separating clothes.
Remembering the task ahead, you let out a sigh and walked over to her.
“So, uh, what do I have to do?” you asked, looking down at her.
“Water’s already in the metal tub. You just take the laundry and rub it on the board,” she said, as if you’d done it a hundred times already.
“Uh-huh,” you answered dryly.
You knelt down and took a shirt in both hands, rubbing it on the board.
“With more force,” she admonished.
“Holy shit. This really works the arm muscles.”
She laughed and muttered “Pussy” under her breath.
After quite a while, thankfully, you finished. This would certainly give you sore muscles tomorrow.
After cleaning up and rinsing your wrinkled fingers in the lake, it was already late afternoon. The birds were slowly calming down.
You had just sat down by the campfire and started cleaning your weapons when you heard the hooves of horses pulling a heavy wagon. The laughter grew louder. Charles greeted Arthur and the girls who had just gotten off the wagon.
He waved you over to help with the goods. You slowly got up, leaned your gun against the wooden chair, and went to unload. While you worked, Charles asked when Dutch would be back.
“Don’t know. Maybe tonight? He said it would be quick—just a few questions and a little negotiation. At least that’s what he told me before he rode off.”
Charles gave you a look and finished unloading the last of the goods.
You sat back down by the campfire, watching the flames dance with the wood and ash.
Kieran’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts.
“You did a good job with the clothes. You’d make a good housewife,” he said with a cheeky grin.
“You wanna fucking die, O’Driscoll boy?” You just turned your eyes to meet his, burning into his soul.
“Ow, nonono, I was just joking,” he chuckled before turning his attention to two horses that had just ridden in. He quickly walked over to Dutch and an unknown man.
You stood up and whistled loudly before yelling that Dutch was back.
“Why did it take so long? And who is he?!” you demanded with a strange undertone. Why on earth would Dutch let a stranger into camp?
“This is Mr. Bell. He saved me before I could be shot. I made him a deal—he can stay with us out of gratitude,” Dutch explained as if it were unnecessary to know more, handing you Bell’s sleeping bag.
You stared at him speechless. Then you turned to the newcomers and warned Bell that if he tried anything, you wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.
He just grinned in your face and said, “Clear as daylight, beauty.”
“You two seem to get along just fine,” Dutch said. “John can set up his tent with him—we should still have an old one.”
You grabbed some other stuff from Dutch and threw it in the back corner of the camp.
Now the entire camp was gathering to celebrate Dutch’s return. Javier pulled out his guitar and tuned a few notes. Bill carried in two boxes of beer. Sadie and Bill mostly sang about how everything had come together and how nice the outlaw life was.
You lifted your beer bottle and took a sip.
Only one person was missing—the new guy.
He couldn’t be trusted.
You leaned back and looked around. A dark silhouette was sitting by a tree. You grabbed another bottle and walked over to him.
You tapped the cold bottle on his shoulder, and he twitched a little. You held out the bottle to him.
“What are you doing out here alone? Come sit with us,” you said.
“If I were you, I’d leave now, cowpoke,” he fired back.
“Come on, you belong to the family now. Get up,” you encouraged, trying to get him to talk.
“No. Just leave,” he said.
You rolled your eyes and knelt down to meet his gaze. He eyed you from the corner of his eyes.
“At least take the beer. I can get you something else too.” You held the bottle even closer.
“Will you leave if I take it?” Bell asked.
You just nodded.
He took the bottle from your hand.
“I’ll get warm with you too,” you said, smiling and patting his shoulder before heading back to the celebration.
The sun was setting and it was getting cold.
The hot breath could be seen. The moonlight lighting up just enough to see without any other light source.
You decided to get ready for bed and leave the nerve-racking day behind you.
As usual, you placed your gunbelt on the small wooden box beside your bench, undressed your shirt, and checked if you had everything.
You almost forgot your gun at the fire and had to get up again to grab it.
Mr. Bell was now sitting there, sharpening his knife. His face just having a little tint of Red, as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes. The blue in his eyes, just enough to be seen. What a strange person. Never seen a man topless before?
You went back into your tent, closed it, cuddled up in your blanket, and drifted off to sleep. Leaving the thought about the see blue eyes behind.