Chapter Text
Chloe Price and Maxine Caulfield’s meeting took place on a warm, sunny afternoon.
She couldn’t have been more than six, she thinks, but she wasn’t wholly sure. Her memories of that afternoon are hazy and fuzzy around the edges, but what she remembers she’ll hold close to her heart forever.
Chloe had been looking for Bongo, she’s fairly sure.
Bongo had been the cat that her dad had let her keep, just a sweet kitten from one of the barn cats. Her mom hated the damn thing, but Chloe carried him around despite his ever-growing size. He’d never caught a single rat in all the years she’d had him, but his little purrs always sounded nice in her ears and his furry warm body kept her lab warm.
She remembers feeling scared. Her dad had been out in the field with the horses and her mom hadn’t cared that the cat was missing. It was Chloe’s animal so it was her responsibility.
So she aimlessly roamed the property, searching for him, until she eventually located him in the arms of a pretty girl. She doesn’t remember what she said or what Max said. She doesn’t remember the games they played that afternoon or in the days after.
What she remembers is Max, wearing a pretty blue dress with no shoes, smiling at her with a missing tooth.
The Caulfields lived on the property next to theirs.
They hadn’t owned the land, but most people out there hadn’t. Most land around those parts belonged to the Prescotts with the Prices being the exception, not the rule.
Ryan Caulfield worked in town, doing all kinds of jobs over the years. Chloe remembers him coming back home with soot on his tired face or smelling like cigars from when he worked at the saloon, but mostly she remembers how he’d used to lift Max up in the air everyday even when she’s much too old for it.
Vanessa Caulfield worked as a seamstress when she had time. She kept the homestead running, taking care of the chickens, goats and the single milk cow they had. Chloe remembers her the most as being in the garden, her hands covered in dirt. She used to give Chloe sweets and always smiled when Max gave her rocks they’d found.
And Maxine Caulfield, well.
Chloe had too many memories and yet later, it never felt enough.
They’d been seven, going fishing despite the fact Max hated baiting the hooks.
Eight, when Chloe helped Max on a too tall horse under her dad’s watchful eye.
Nine, when Max gave her a flower crown and kept one bud for herself, pressed in a book.
Ten, when Chloe had saved up every penny she had to buy Max a book she’d been eyeing for weeks.
Eleven, when Chloe had taught Max how to aim a slingshot.
Twelve, when Max had blown her away with her natural talent with a gun.
Thirteen, when Max had held her for days after her world fell apart.
At the time, she hadn’t given the circumstances much thought.
Because her father was dead.
The man that taught her to ride a horse, how to tame them and how to aim a gun. He’d taught her how to build a fire, how to track a deer and how to love.
She’d never got to say goodbye. He didn’t get to see her finish growing or walk her down the aisle. Never get to meet the people she considered family.
There were things she was glad he didn’t get to see though. The fact that the property fell out of the family’s hands, how low she’d ended up and the amount of blood that covered her hands
There’s not a day that goes by that she doesn’t miss that man.
It’s only years later that she’d thought about it.
She’d been thirteen. The pain had been overwhelming and it had blocked out any thoughts of suspicion. What did it matter that her father and mother spoke in hushed voices weeks before his accident when he’d gone and died on her? What did it matter that her dad had been tense and started carrying his gun on him when he’d never laugh again?
It clicks years and years later and sends her on a spiral that almost kills her.
Max has to move only a few weeks later.
The Caulfield’s felt bad about it, she could tell. They hadn’t wanted to move but they couldn’t afford to keep living there. Max tried to explain but Chloe hadn’t wanted to hear it. The exact reasons didn’t matter, just the fact that Max was about to be gone.
The two most important people in her life, gone in a matter of months.
Is it any surprise that she ended up where she did?
Chloe tried.
Her dad breed and trained some of the best horses in the west. People would buy his stock for twice the normal amount because he’d always put so much care into his animals. His horses could be counted on, no matter what.
He’d taught her all his tricks. By the time she’d been ten she could ride a horse better than anyone else in Arcadia Bay. There wasn’t a horse she couldn’t tame, if given enough time. She knew horses, insides and out.
But no one would buy a horse from a young girl and the ones that would wouldn’t pay the price that they’d happily given her father.
Her mother took over but she’d never had the patience for horse training, not really. She’s always hated the animals because she thought they were dangerous. But even then it kept falling though.
That’s when David showed up.
She’d hated the man from the start.
He immediately acted like he owned the place. Chloe hadn’t cared that he used to be a sheriff back east or that he’d fought with the army.
Her mom moved him in quickly and married him quicker. Not even a year of her dad being in the ground and her mom was married again.
That’s when her anger truly started. She can’t stand to be in the same room as him, can’t stand to look at her mom after he’d slapped Chloe across the face for back talking for the fourth time.
Chloe tried to spend more time with the horses but that had been hard too. Her dad delivered most of these animals, trained them, and loved them. She couldn’t look at a horse without remembering her dad carefully tightening its saddle or feeding them a treat.
That’s when she met Rachel Amber.
Rachel was the type of person that you met maybe once or twice in a lifetime.
She had a way of making you love her, no matter who you were. She was beautiful beyond measure, smart and clever.
Chloe was smitten the second their eyes met.
It had been a slow decline and yet it felt like everything happened all at once.
Rachel became the new focus of her life. They spend hours together, laughing and drinking. Planning what their lives would look like when they move away together from that tiny town. Chloe took Rachel to places she’d never shown anyone other than Max, told her things she’d never told anyone.
They came together and fell apart so quickly and often that even Chloe sometimes couldn’t keep track of it sometimes. Rachel had a free spirit that couldn’t be tamed or at least not one that Chloe could. No matter if they were sleeping together at the moment or not; there was no doubt that they’d loved each other in their own ways.
Slowly Chloe builds up a little family out of the misfits.
There was Steph, who liked to wink at every pretty woman in sight yet blushed as soon as one looked back.
There was Victoria, who was colder than ice and liked to say she hated Rachel, yet always went out of her way to talk to her.
There was Dana and Juliet, who were always together and always bickering.
That’s who’s there at the start. They weren’t known as anything because back then they’d just been friends. Just a little group that regularly met up and laughed together.
Rachel ‘Wild-fire’ Amber, Chloe ‘Dust-devil’ Price and their Blue-Blood gang all came later.
The end started when David took over the farm.
He was hard headed and wouldn’t listen to a damn word Chloe told him. Every suggestion had been met with a brick wall. It hadn’t mattered that Chloe had been riding horses since she’d been able to walk or taming them almost as long. She’d been young and disrespectful, clearly she’d been out to make him fail.
It took longer to realize than she’d like to admit. By that point she rarely spent any time at the ranch, and hated seeing what her once warm home turned into. She’d spent most of her time in town with Rachel or one of the other girls, drinking and having fun.
It’s shocked her to her core when she’d heard about how the Prescottts had bought one of the last pieces of land that hadn’t belonged to them.
She’d raged at her mother when she’d rode home. Joyce gave her excuse after excuse. Money had been tight for years, the horses were too expensive, David hated the work.
When Chloe started shouting about how that ranch had been her father’s and was supposed stay in the family David backhanded her against the face for it.
She snapped. She’d pulled out her revolver, pointed it at him and told him point blank that the only reason she wasn’t going to kill him was because of her mother.
She’d turned around without another word.
It was only a week later that Rachel suggested they speed up their plans to leave that tiny town.
They’d all hated it there. Rachel felt like she was getting smothered by her father. Steph and Victoria both wanted to see the world. Dana wanted to do something new and Juliet just wanted to see the drama unfold.
None of them had any money.
But she knew who did.
If Rachel had suggested it any sooner Chloe might not have done it. Perhaps she’d just waited until she’d known Chloe would be at her angriest, her most vengeful. Or maybe she really only thought of it then. Chloe doesn’t know.
What Chloe does know is that the night Rachel suggested it she returned to her father’s ranch to steal six horses and left to commit a bank robbery.
She’ll never forget that day.
The way her heart beat loudly in her chest, the weight of the gun in her hand, and that rush of adrenaline. The way the bank teller had been so dismissive to her until she’d pointed a revolver in his face.
It’s more money than she’d seen in her life. They’d spit it six ways and had planned on getting out of town and forgetting having ever done what they’d did. Just getting a clean start somewhere else that hopefully better than that fucking place.
That’s not what happened.
They’d partied so hard at the town they found themselves at that Chloe never remembered the name of the place.
The night was a drunken blur. No one dared ask where the money came from, not when Chloe’s revolver was in plain sight, Rachel’s rifle was strapped to her back and Steph’s shotgun to hers. It had been real money and that had been enough for the saloon.
She’d woken up shirtless, bruised, sore and mouth tasting like whiskey and Rachel.
That quickly became a common occurrence.
They stayed together.
Not her and Rachel, no, they continued to be apart as much as together. But the group stayed together, got closer with each drunken night of fun.
The problem was that staying at saloons and partying every night cost a lot of money and before long, well. They needed more.
Rachel hadn’t even needed to suggest it.
It became an addiction.
The rush was truly like nothing Chloe has ever experienced. The feeling of robbing a bank or a stagecoach is like nothing else. It’s a trill that makes everything else pale in comparison.
She’d liked it more than actually spending the money. That was fine, she admitted, but it was the rush of breaking the law that she loved.
They stop talking about starting a new life around the third time they rob some rich guy’s stagecoach. She could see it in Rachel’s eyes that she loved it just as much as Chloe. Steph liked the freedom, Victoria the money, while Dana and Juliet liked the partying the most.
Time went on and people started to talk.
Chloe got her name first.
It began after a robbery went a bit rougher than she’d expected it too. She’d still been new at the game back then and she hadn’t expected the sheriff of the town they’d been in to actually manage to follow her.
She’d split off from the others and led him on a long chase. He’d followed her out of town then back into it before she’d managed to lose him in the twisting alleys and highways because her horse was simply better than his. Her horse jumped without fear or hesitation while his eventually dug in its hooves and caused him to flip near upside down. She’d then ridden off into a cloud of dust.
They started calling her ‘Dust-devil’ Price after that.
Rachel always had a bit of a temper.
That seemed to surprise people but Chloe never understood why. She never hid it.
During one of their little celebrations a man refused to leave Rachel alone. That wasn’t exactly an uncommon experience for Rachel, she was beautiful and charming, but this guy just wouldn’t let up. Chloe offered to handle it but Rachel declined. She had always liked to handle her own problems.
Rachel’s solution was to take a bottle of whiskey, put a rag into its opening, set the rag on fire and throw the bottle at him.
Wild-Fire Amber might have been an understatement.
The whole Blue-Blood thing had been half accident and half on purpose.
The bandannas they’d worn had been blue by coincidence as Chloe had brought them to cover everyone’s faces those first couple of times. That they were blue had been a whim of fancy, as that had always been Chloe’s favorite color.
That they targeted people of a higher status than themselves had been on purpose. Some called her soft for it but Chloe defended herself with the fact there was little point in robbing the poor, they had too little for it to be worth it.
So the name Blue-Bloods started getting tossed around, probably also because the papers never could figure out if Chloe or Rachel was in charge.
It goes on for years before a series of events happen in quick succession.
It’s years of robbing banks and a few trains. Of wild parties. It’s new people joining them. There’s Gabe and Ryan, who the girls love to tease. There’s Gabe’s girl Charlotte who doesn’t ride with them but always puts them up when they’re in the area. Then there’s Gabe’s sister, Alex, that they’d tracked down and joined the gang so well that it’s like she’d always been there.
Then one day they robbed a stagecoach.
It hadn’t even been exciting, Chloe remembers. It had been something to fill the time while Rachel and Gabe returned from planning a train heist. The driver had been calm, and held up his hands at the sight of Steph’s shotgun with a sense of formality.
The man inside had ranted and raved. The usual stuff about how they wouldn’t get away with it, that the people he worked for knew the law. Bullshit that Chloe never really listened too.
Normally she never bothered to read any papers that these people carried around but a name caught her eyes.
Prescotts. So she takes them, to the stuttering angry mutters of the man. Well, he hadn’t been angry too much longer after that since he’d finally reached for his gun and Steph had shot him in the back.
The letters were from the Prescotts to their underlings. Plans on how to force people out of their lands, when to let them linger to get a better price when they’re more desperate, when to just kill the family completely because the local law was under their thumb.
Victoria had gone more into detail about it. She used to be close to the Prescotts boy years ago, and heard some of the on goings. The Prescotts were just as much outlaws as the Blue-Bloods were, just had a much better reputation.
Chloe reads the letters and remembers men visiting the ranch a few weeks before her dad died. She remembers how they’d come with shiny shoes and bright white smiles then how those smiles dimmed.
Her father died in a stagecoach accident. A runaway stagecoach spooked his horse outside of town and he’d struck his head against a rock when his horse bucked him. The horse he’d been on twisted a leg and a kind neighbor put it out of his misery.
Chloe had stared at a letter where the Prescotts are telling one of his minions to do something incredibly similar to a different ranch owner for an hour before she throws a bottle at the wall.
Rachel’s all for it.
She always hated that type of rich which Chloe figured had to do with her daddy. She always loved mayhem and chaos too.
They started harassing every thing even remotely connected to the Prescotts. They’re runners, they’re trains, they’re stagecoaches. Chloe herself burned down an inn that they’d built in some random little town.
Nothing is enough. Nothing she did got her ranch back or brought her dad back. He was gone but by god she was going to make sure they hurt for it.
Her and Rachel were more apart than together at that stage.
They had enough people that they could split up, cover more ground. Rachel usually took half and Chloe the other and they’d meet up at a camp site that Dana and Juliet kept an eye on. Rachel loved the freedom of it. The people she got to meet and love for a night or two.
Chloe, well, she never loved like that. Her love ran deep inside her. Once it was there, that was it. It never truly went away. Flings hadn’t ever really been her style.
When Rachel failed to return when she said she would, Chloe hadn’t been too worried. Until Steph returned without her.
Steph told them that Rachel had gone off with some teacher she’d met for a few days so Steph had visited a friend of hers that was nearby. When she’d returned to town and Rachel hadn’t been there, she figured Rachel had gotten bored with her toy early and returned to camp.
Chloe still remembers the feeling of her heart dropping in her chest.
It took two weeks to find her.
The gang rode everywhere looking for her, threatening, asking questions and piecing together what had happened.
He’d know who Rachel was. He’d known what to say to get her attention and played the long con. Rachel had known him for weeks by that point, just long enough for her to trust him to send Steph off.
Then he’d shot her in the back and left her body to rot.
Chloe can’t remember a lot of the past couple of months.
She’d fought with Steph and Victoria a lot, she remembered that. She’d remembered starting a couple of brawls and winning most of them. Riding until she couldn’t anymore, screaming until her voice gave out.
Mark Jefferson was the man that killed Rachel. He was known in some dark circles for having awful tastes. But he had some rich friends that bailed him out over and over, giving him a new name and identity whenever he needed it.
He was a snake and one that kept slipping through her hands every single time she thought she had him.
That was about to change.
The latest rumor had him here, in Arcadia Bay. Irony of ironies.
She might not be on such good terms with her family, her real family not the woman that shared her blood, because of how rough she’s been these last couple of months but she knows not to bring them. None of them wanted to return here and she wouldn’t make them.
Alex is the only one she brings. She’s better at handling Chloe’s temper than anyone, and that’s a very important skill to have these days. Chloe shot a man dead for just insulting her a few days ago. Her temper might get her killed.
But Arcadia Bay is full of life this afternoon. It’s packed in a way she’d never really seen in her childhood.
The pieces of rumor float into Chloe’s ear. There’s to be a hanging. A woman murdered a man of high standing, can you believe that someone would kill someone as kind as Mr. Jefferson?
The world stands shock still and Alex has to make her drop the man she’d pinned to the wall. Yes, Mark Jefferson was dead. Shot and killed just a few days before by some young girl who was about to be hanged.
Chloe hates the girl immediately. She’d been hunting that man for months, only for what? Some girl to take that revenge from her? She’d been dreaming about how she’d kill him and a quick death hadn’t been in the cards at all.
But she wouldn’t let her hang for it. No, the least she can do is a life for a life. Maybe she’d even buy her a drink to hear how the bastard looked when he’d died.
Alex seemed nervous about it but agreed. It would be a tough fight, there were a lot of people and there were more than a few deputies around. But it wasn’t hard to loosen the saddles of a couple of horses, untie a few more. Chloe knew Arcadia Bay like the back of her hand, she’d led them out of here no problem.
She’d tied her bandanna over her mouth and waited.
The crowd was shouting when the sheriff pulled the girl out of a caged stagecoach. Chloe couldn’t see her very well from her position, but she looked small. The sheriff didn’t seem to care that he was twice the girl’s size and dragged her up to the noose.
Chloe waited to the side of the stage with bated breath.
While the sheriff was speaking of crimes and the wrath of god, the girl looked around the crowd with determination. Their eyes met in pure coincidence.
Chloe was supposed to be waiting for Alex’s signal. Getting ready for the shit show that was about to go down.
But all she could see was Max Caulfield, dressed in a white shirt and a pair of pants that were a bit too long, staring at her with the same pretty blue eyes she always had.
“Max?”
"Chloe?"