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Valentine was - underwhelming - to put it nicely. As Sadie and Abigail had traversed mountains and deserts atop Hera’s back, the small cattletown paled in comparison. The dingy saloon was already rowdy in the pinks and oranges of the evening, the rotting wood that formed it threatening to collapse as boots stomped in sync with the croaky piano. The streets were starting to empty out, with only the stumbling drunks to keep the hitched horses company. Abigail sighed as she leaned her chin on Sadie’s shoulder, Hera’s hooves sinking into the infamous Valentine mud as the beast snorted in exhaustion. The two were heading East, both comfortable with the idea of forever moving around, finding the next clearing or hill to set their tent up in. However, as the moon waned in the horizon, it seemed that spending a night in Valentine was inescapable for the pair. Sadie guided Hera in front of the Saint’s Hotel as Abigail removed her hands from where they had been snaked around Sadie’s waist. Abigail stretched out her arms lazily, a small noise escaping her lips as she yawned.
“I need to get myself a horse.” Abigail grumbled as she slid off Hera’s back in one fluid motion, boots sinking into the mud. She stretched her legs out, trying to wash away the discomfort she felt as she spent hours sitting on Hera’s back, either squashed into Sadie so they both fit on the saddle or Abigail awkwardly sitting half on the saddle and half off.
“We’ll get you one tomorrow morning.” Sadie said in between the cigarette she’d just clamped between her teeth. She followed Abigail and swung herself off Hera, landing into the mud just beside her better half and lifting her boot to strike a match against it. Abigail pulled a face and made a noise of disgust.
“I wish you’d stop smoking those damn things.” She said, taking Hera’s reins and tying them up to the hitching post.
“Abby, we’ve gone over this; it ain’t happening.” Sadie remarked, giving Abigail a grin as she stepped up to the doors of the Hotel, holding the door open for dark-haired woman.
“Why, thank you.” Abigail giggled, walking through the door and shaking her head as she realised she was too tired to get mad at Sadie.
The two walked up to the small wooden counter in the very middle of the room. However, the counter was missing something - somebody - behind it. Sadie looked around, trying to find the man who was meant to be pointing them to their room by now. The blonde banged her fist on the counter, impatient and too tired to wait around nicely. Nobody answered her angry call.
“Hello? Can someone do their job ‘round here?” Sadie called out to the silence of the hotel. It seemed she called out rather loudly, though, and a woman’s voice shouted obscenities while telling Sadie that she needed to sleep. Abigail held in a laugh as Sadie pulled a bewildered face at the wall, as if she saw through it to where the woman was angrily yelling in one of the rooms. “I need a drink.” Sadie grumbled, looking around for the last time to try and find someone to run the hotel, instead just meeting Abigail’s humoured eyes. “You think this is funny?” Sadie said, billowing out smoke as she continued to look around, expecting someone to vaporise in front of her to serve the two.
“Not at all.” Abigail muffled her snickers.
“What if we jus’ steal a room?” Sadie asked, completely serious as she eyed the case where the room keys hung, only a few remaining on their hooks. Abigail looked at her wide-eyed, as if Sadie had just called upon the devil himself.
“We are not gonna steal a room! We ain’t those kinds of people no more.” Abigail gave Sadie a stern look. Sadie only grumbled in return, fixing her hat. “C’mon, we’ll get that drink you wanted from the saloon and we’ll come back later to see if anyone shows up.” Abigail offered. She grabbed the cigarette from where it’d been hanging limply between Sadie’s lips, crushing it into the ashtray on the counter, the embers fizzling and spitting. Sadie gave Abigail a glare, but shrank at the piercing stare she received back, only tipping her hat and bowing her head, muttering a small ‘yes ma’am’ as a result.
As with everything in the cattletown, Valentine’s saloon was dismal. Floorboards wept and sank underneath boots; water damage from either the mud outside or the liquor sloshed around in fits of rage. The tables were sticky with the residue of alcohol and the chandelier in the middle of the room was dangerously close to slipping off its chain.
Abigail hated it.
Sadie was always the drinking type, finding every opportunity at the end of the day to tip her head back and put her hat over her eyes, mindlessly swishing the whiskey bottle around as she hummed a tune. Abigail, however, only tutted and ‘tsk’ed’ at the sight of Sadie’s drinking, always refusing the liquor herself. She hated the burning in her throat, the warmth that rested in her abdomen and the fuzziness in the corners of her vision, deeming it impossible to focus on anything too hard in fear of losing all thoughts all together. Lord knew how many times Abigail had saved them both after she was the only sober one in the dead of night when the Murfrees or Del Lobos had chased them out of their temporary camp that they’d set up that night.
Sadie, however, grinned at the miserable atmosphere of the saloon. She gave Abigail a smile, Abigail only huffing in return before Sadie sauntered off to the bar. Abigail found the only table left empty in the saloon and sat down, pulling a face as she felt the chair wobble on its splintered legs. The night was young, and not many men had found themselves in the state of drunkenness where they'd wake up the next day face first in the pig sty, and so Abigail allowed herself a moment of relaxation, trying to enjoy herself in the cattletown’s entertainment. Her gun was holstered and hidden, the weight of it on her hip acting as a comforting reminder that she was no longer a vulnerable young woman with no means of protecting herself. Yet, as a man eyed her from across the saloon, the unease settled deep in Abigail’s stomach.
Sadie, cheeks flushed and hat skewed, sat lazily on the chair as she laughed at Abigail’s sarcasm. She dragged her hand across the table to collect her glass and down the rest of her umpteenth glass of whiskey. Abigail gave her a look.
“Cheer up, Abby! C’mon we don't get to be this free often. Let yourself go for a while!” Sadie took her hat off to wipe the sweat that had accumulated on her forehead and Abigail painfully realised that the two were in desperate need of a bath; and that damned room.
“I’m good. You have fun though.” Abigail got up from where she'd been sitting for the past hour or two (Abigail was convinced it was more like a day and a half), beginning to make her way around the table to get to the saloon doors.
“Wait! Where're you goin’?” Sadie asked, grasping Abigail’s hand before she could leave, lazily looking up at the darker-haired woman through her eyelashes. Sadie’s hand was clammy as she held on, but her calloused fingers still mindlessly played with Abigail’s.
“Trying to get us a place to sleep.” Abigail huffed, unable to stop her smile as Sadie intertwined their fingers. Sadie pouted. “I’ll be back soon. Just don't get into trouble.” Abigail gave her a warning look, and Sadie nodded, her head lolling to the side as if it was a chore for her neck to keep it upright. Abigail shook her head, removing her hand from Sadie’s and leaving a lingering touch on the blonde’s shoulder as she left.
The cold air hit Abigail like a whip as she left the saloon, a welcome change to the musty, humid atmosphere of the place. Lights in windows slowly started dissipating, candles being snuffed out and curtains being pulled shut. The saloon behind Abigail, however, was as rowdy as ever in the dead of night. Abigail trudged through the mud over to the other side of the street, passing a reined Hera as she opened the Hotel doors.
A man behind the counter smiled at her as she stepped in.
Abigail sighed in relief, walking over to the counter with the mud still caking her boots, leaving her footprints marked on the floor.
“I'd like a room.” Abigail said, plainly. “Please.” She added.
“‘Course. You're in luck.” The man opened the case where room keys hung on their hooks and took the final one from its place. “Last one. Five dollars.” Abigail raised her eyebrows as she took out her bills, flicking through them for five curled and scrunched notes. The man eyed the notes suspiciously, giving Abigail the key somewhat apprehensively.
A loud bang erupted around, shaking the timber that held the hotel up. Abigail and the man looked at each other with wide eyes, turning around to try and find the source of the noise. The man sighed as he looked behind Abigail towards the doors of the hotel.
“Seems another fight is going on in the saloon. Some days I think about leaving this town and never coming back.”
Abigail wasn't paying attention to the man’s words. She was halfway out the door before he had finished his sentence, joining into the crowd that had gathered in the middle of the street. People cheered and yelled, whooped and jeered as they watched two people in the centre fight it out.
Abigail just hoped the churning in her stomach was for naught.
The flash of blonde told her otherwise.
Sadie, a snarl on her face and no trace of the haze that she'd been put into by the liquor in her eyes. Blood leaked from her nose and rested on her upper lip, dribbling down and staining her teeth red. Her hair was untamed and half out her braid, looking like it'd been pulled at one time. Her hunting knife was in her hand, clutched by crimson fingers as she swiped almost blindly.
Her opponent looked no different, face red and eyes wild, his beard matted with blood. His own knife was grasped in his shaking hand, his other hand held close to his chest as it bled down into his sleeve. He stumbled upwards from where he’d been sprawled across the mud, his own intake of liquor taking a larger toll on him than Sadie.
He slurred something under his breath, spitting into the mud beside his boot before charging at Sadie, knife held high. He was larger than Sadie in both size and stature, and he toppled the both of them to the ground.
One punch.
Two.
Abigail awoke from her trance, left the spot where her feet had been rooted to the ground and began to push her way through the crowd, shoving and elbowing everyone in her way. She stepped into the circle that had been created for the two fighters.
Somewhere along the way, Sadie had kicked the drunk and pushed him off of her, now having a knee pressed to his abdomen as her fist made contact with his face. He struggled underneath her weight, Sadie abandoning her knife to grasp the man by his soiled shirt.
Abigail had seen enough. She stomped through the mud to Sadie, grabbing her by the collar of her duster and roughly pulling her up and away from the drunk. “The hell’re you doin’?” Sadie yelled, trying to swat Abigail’s hands away as she wildly looked around to see who had pulled her to her feet. Abigail didn’t say anything, afraid that she might start punching Sadie herself if she wasn’t careful.
The man had stumbled up, bent down to clutch his knees and catch his breath, trying to get rid of the blood that flowed from his mouth. Sadie must have knocked out some of his teeth. People groaned around them as they realised the fight had fizzled out, Abigail clutching onto Sadie’s collar and one of her arms and dragging her out of the circle.
“Yeah, you run, you dyke bitch!”
The two stopped moving.
Abigail felt Sadie twitch underneath her hold.
“He ain’t worth it, and you know it. C’mon.” Abigail muttered, ignoring the jeers surrounding her. The drunk smiled at how he’d obviously hit a sore spot for Sadie at his words. “Please, Sadie.” Abigail gently nudged the woman to keep moving. The blonde did so silently.
Abigail guided them both up the stairs to the hotel, shoving the door open with her arm. The man behind the counter looked up as the two practically fell into the establishment, his eyes widening as he saw the mess that Sadie was in. “Hey, no! You can’t bring her in here lookin’ like that!” The man exclaimed, waving his hands around wildly.
“Tell your girls to run a bath.” Abigail grumbled, ignoring the man’s words. “I’ll pay triple.” She added after seeing how uncertain he was. He sighed in defeat, calling over to somebody in the hallway behind him.
Abigail hauled Sadie through the hallway, still gripping her by the collar like a mother disappointed with her child.
“Bath’s all ready for y-” The girl’s words died in her throat as she turned to see the mud-caked and bloody Sadie. She opened the door for the two, putting down the towels in her hands on a chair in the corner of the room before leaving without another word.
The steam from the water rose in swirls to hang above them as Abigail finally let Sadie go. Sadie didn’t meet her eyes. Abigail pulled the duster off of her shoulders. One by one, Sadie’s clothes dropped to the floor; dirty, bloody, grimy. She stepped into the near scalding water, sighing in relief as the water enveloped her like a blanket.
Abigail sat down on the chair just beside the bath, grabbing the towels left by the girl. She began to drag her fingers through Sadie’s hair, freeing the knots and twists that the mud had caked into it. She dabbed at the gashes in Sadie’s arm. She cleaned the dried blood from her nose. The two were silent. Not through shame, or disappointment, or anger; but through understanding. The two stayed silent.
Even when Sadie dried herself off, leaving the now murky, tinted-pink water and Abigail led her down the hallway to where their room was; there wasn’t a word between them. Abigail motioned for Sadie to sit down on the bed, the blonde willingly doing so. The old wood groaned at the action, a painful and guttural creak. On the other side of the bed, all the things that had been bundled up on Hera’s back were scattered across the sheets. One of the girls must have been told to do it for them. Abigail threw Sadie’s dirty clothes into the corner of the room, the bloodied cloth skidding to sit next to a mirror, Sadie’s hat on the top of the pile. Abigail rummaged through the bundles that made up their things, not having to look for long for the medicine equipment Abigail now forced Sadie to have on her at all times. Sadie had deemed it useless and “adding weight”, but Abigail was not one to spit out ‘I told you so’s’. She sat down beside Sadie on the bed, the rickety old thing almost screaming in protest. Unravelling the contents from the cloth she’d tightened around it, Abigail brought out the whiskey and snake oils, bandages, needles, threads. Sadie grimaced.
“Don’t move.” Abigail grumbled, breaking the silence as a piece of thread was in between her teeth. She dabbed at the inflamed, angry skin around the wound on Sadie’s forehead, resting just above her eyebrow. The bleeding had become sluggish, but stitches were still needed if it weren’t to get infected. Knowing Sadie, it probably would.
“Hard not to.” Sadie said through gritted teeth, emitting a low sigh of frustration as Abigail pressed down particularly hard. Sadie glared at Abigail, knowing it was completely purposeful.
Abigail pulled at the skin, the needle piercing through and dragging the wound shut.
“Can you please stop getting into fights with every drunken idiot who says anything to us?” Abigail sighed, grabbing the cloth that she’d drowned in alcohol to dab at the particularly nasty gash on Sadie’s arm.
“I tell them to shut up first, but they never listen.” Sadie scoffed, looking at Abigail. Abigail could only shake her head, but a small smile rested on her lips.
Abigail moved around Sadie’s body, stitching and bandaging every scrape and bruise and cut. If Abigail could, she’d wrap Sadie around fully, protecting her from anything and everything. The actions were muscle memory, built up from every other time that Sadie had found herself bleeding out. The time that she’d angered a Del Lobo in Thieves Landing. Or the “small” and “easy” bounty Sadie had taken up to get them some money, only to crawl back to Abigail with a knife sticking out either end of her abdomen.
Every scar, every healed bruise, was only a reminder of Sadie’s undevoted loyalty. No, not loyalty.
Love.
Every bar fight, every bounty, every shootout. It was all for Abigail.
The realisation hit Abigail in the face. Sadie, gruff and serious and threatening Sadie, had silently vowed to protect Abigail in whatever way. Abigail liked to think of herself as a strong and independent woman, but her independence only stemmed from the freedom Sadie had given her. Shouldering all the weight, Sadie had allowed Abigail the room for such freedom.
Sweet and caring Sadie, harmonica in hand, her face a warm glow from the dancing embers, had always loved Abigail.
Abigail left a kiss on the patched up wound on Sadie’s shoulder blade. She left another on a thin, white line that decorated Sadie’s freckled back. Another on the slightly angrier purple scar that drove down from Sadie’s ribs to the small of her back. And another on the warped skin on the nape of Sadie’s neck. Abigail kissed along until she reached the soft skin beside Sadie’s ear before trailing down, sloppily dragging teeth, tongue, and lips along Sadie’s shoulder. Like hackles raising on a cat, Sadie's skin broke out in goosebumps at the action, a small noise leaving her mouth in a contented sigh.
“I love you. You know that, right?” Abigail said, stopping abruptly and bringing her head forward to lean her chin on Sadie’s shoulder. She looked up, meeting Sadie’s warm, brown eyes. Sadie smiled.
“‘Course I do.” Her voice was quiet - a whisper that travelled through the air.
“You really told him to shut up?” Abigail smirked, imagining the scene in the saloon.
“Hey, he pulled a gun on me first. I only disarmed him.” Sadie scoffed, twisting her body so that she faced Abigail as the two sat on the bed.
“Well, thank you. But if you ever pull that shit again you’ll be sleeping alone for a month.” Abigail threatened, waving an accusatory finger in Sadie’s face.
“I love you too.”