Chapter Text
It was just like any other day. Waking up at 4:30 AM.
Get dressed in your habit.
Dont forget your veil and cincture.
Silent prayer until 6 AM. Sometimes even longer if the others decided so, Mass was for the masses. Daily communion. Don’t fall behind.
The morning meal was better than it used to be, but not quite good. Just an hour of silence while Sister Maris Stella would read out from the Scripture or a Saint’s life. Just what you need while eating stale bread, emulating the Savior, I take it?
Mopping floors, doing the laundry or receiving spiritual instructions from a novice mistress who thought she knew God personally was…something. Not that you could speak up.
You never could
The cycle was repeating itself since forever with no end in sight
That was until the day came
A few months ago, during winter, Sister Selah had told you about two other girls while you were gardening in the convents yard. While being busy with pulling winter hardy weeds, she had scooted over. Her apron dirtied, she’d have to clean it before the Mother would see; Sister Selah didn‘t care though, she was always a bit of a summer child -making her the only other Sister in whose presence one could talk freely.
And oh did Selah talk freely herself. Always did.
“I saw them yesterday…”
“Who?”
“You know who…” she whispered almost giddy, watching over her back as you pretend to be immersed in weed pulling, accidentally damaging some of the other roots, nobody would see, not even the Lord.
“Sister Sage and Sister Clara?” It was stupid to ask; you knew who she meant but wanted to make sure. When she nodded, you were quiet for a moment. Of course it was about them again, it made you feel a kind of heaviness in your chest just thinking about the two novices. The others were busy, still on the other side of the flowerbed. They kept talking in hushed voices.
“Where are they now? Are they at the cells?”
She shook her head no
No? Maybe they were at study, or maybe just in the communal area-
“They ran”
…
You look up at her, eyes wide. Sister Selah had told you about the girls plan to run away from the convent on a cold winter day, when snow had seized the Great Planes. The two of you were preparing soup and blankets for people in need when she appeared besides you, telling you what she’d heard. Sure, novices could leave at all times, but their situation was different. More difficult than your own even. Still, it couldn’t be…that easy to just-
Surprised?
Maybe you didn’t think that they would get through with it-
Did you hope they wouldn’t?
“Ran where?” It felt like the words forced themselves out of your mouth, greedy for answers but Sister Selah just shrugged with her shoulders as she wiped at the stain on her apron. The wind blew her golden-brown fringe to the side.
“Heard her say something about Saint Denis. They wanted to fetch the ferry to get out of the States, I think. Sage has folks in Chuparosa.”
“Why not the ferry in Blackwater…?”
“No money. Heard Clara say that she had family in Saint Denis, they would help them out to make it over the sea” sounded plausible, most novices had no personal possessions.
“Isn’t it as dangerous there as it is here…?”
She nodded again; this time she smiled faintly. You tilt your head a bit in question.
“But anywhere is better than here.” Final, Self-assured, Amen.
-
Come evening at the cell, you couldn’t help but lay awake. Staring at the ceiling. Thinking…dreaming…
Even if the cold and dark sleeping area seemed to be the wrong place to go on about some banality like “dreaming”. Mother Mehetabel once told you that “the Lord’s house is no place to dream, but to pray and seek salvation” -salvation you wouldn’t find by dreaming about “nonsense”. In secret you couldn’t help but do so anyway, maybe the Lord also used to dream at night?
Dream…to dream about all the places you would maybe never see, dream about love and freedom. Maybe even some kind of redemption?
You had been thinking about running away for a long time now. However, for various reasons you never went through with it.
Hearing that Sister Sage and Sister Clara mustered up the courage to take the step in order to make a change was…admirable, you thought. They would see more of the world than you, if you didn’t start to act soon...with a plan or not. Every opportunity was important for you now.
New Mexico Territory…-no, “Nuevo Paraíso” you pronounced it awkwardly in your head, just as you had heard the Mexicans say who sometimes came to church. That’s where the two girls would hopefully end up spending their lives together.
You have never been anywhere. Only in Blackwater, maybe around it -ever since your mother had dropped you off at the convent at 3 years old. Unlike some of the other novices, you rarely got the chance to go outside and spread the mission or collect money for the convent anymore, it was more often the younger novices that were tasked with going out -and even then, you typically never left the city. The only spot you were at almost everyday, if you had the chance to, was the graveyard behind the gardens that surrounded the path leading over to the chapel. There was a spot in the back, a bit hidden from the view due to the thick branches of a weeping willow.
Why did you go there in the first place?
Because you could see the port from there. By now you knew when the ferries typically arrived and when they headed off, same as the trains. Your other lookout was by the front gate where you could see Blackwater’s train station -only through the iron bars, of course. You often glanced over while sweeping the concrete or checking the donation box, watching the people who got on or who exited it, wondering where they came from -or where they were going. Sometimes you even wondered, where you would go if you had the chance. Probably somewhere where things weren’t as…plain. Not as orderly or strict. Somewhere where you’d see things, experience things -not hear stories from other Sisters who entered the convent later in life or maybe some churchgoers. Your own story, your own life. A piece of Heaven on Earth just for you to experience. Last month you had thought about running away again, leaving the convent behind and finding your luck out there. When you realised that it still wasn’t as easy as you thought it was years back, when you were younger, your little dream was destroyed -but it still didn’t die that easy.
Sister Selah’s words echoed in your mind
“Anywhere is better than here”
She wasn’t wrong, no, not at all…
-
It was a hot day in April, the sun stood high above the trees in whose shade they sat. Selah -not “Sister Selah” right now, since she said formalities weren’t for friends, was laying besides you after you both had sneaked off from gardening work. They were done quicker than usually, now she had removed her cap and veil for a moment as you were braiding her hair into a long, neat looking braid while she was watching the cloudless sky, her head in your lap as you both rested under the willow tree until it was time for the midday meal.
You immediately looked up as the trains whistle went off in the distance, since it was almost 1 AM. You knew the timeline like clockwork, still, it fascinated you as if it was the first time finding out about the freedom that was just in front of the gate and only a few streets further. Back then, when you had realised that not everyone was living like you and the other Sisters were, you had looked like a curious kid the next time you saw the train stopping at the station, hissing furiously and emitting smoke while people stepped off onto the pavement like it was normal for them.
“Why are you still thinking?” Selah’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts and for a moment, you hesitated.
“About what?” You dared.
“Running” -so she remembered. You had hoped she would’ve forgotten about what you had told her years ago, thus you hadn’t told her your recent thoughts either. Selah wasn’t stupid, quite the opposite- she was clever. That’s why you had taken a liking to her in the first place, she didn’t always follow the Mother like the other novices did. Even if she was in the final months of her probation, then she would take her religious vows. You on the other hand still had 10 months to go. 10 months left for you to escape.
“Running? No way…” It was a forbidden fruit. The Ninth Commandment explicitly forbid deceit.
“You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour”
You were quiet for a moment longer before picking up braiding her hair again
“Where would I even go? I don’t have family here, nor do I have the money…” it was no lie this time, just the truth. You had nothing, just the convent and Sisterhood. No money or possessions, then again, you sometimes wondered if it wasn’t the other way around when you “owned” something. It has happened quite often that people, mostly men who looked like they hadn’t slept in decades, rough faces flushed red from liquor, came to Mass in the mornings to pray for forgiveness. When they would talk to you or when you caught glimpses of their conversation with other novices or nuns, you mostly heard them tell the same story but in different versions:
“I gambled away my life”
“I lost a bet-” or “Then I had to give up my money or my life-”
It were the most common sentences coming out of their mouths, with that you had learned quite early that in a sense money was power, making you realize how little you had yourself. With how it was right now, you wouldn’t last a single day out there.
“You’re smart. You’d get around somehow.” Selah gave you an assured look, as if she really believed that you could make it. It was what made her special: despite living in the convent since she was an infant, she was left at the doorstep- so she told you, had never lost the spark of hope -not faith. Not the religious kind that some people had when they prayed for the cure of a sick family member or to assure themselves that everything would go well, no, she had the kind of hope that spread like wildfire through your chest when thinking about achieving something. Like a subtle breeze keeping embers glowing.
You noticed because you felt it too. You had it as well.
“One day I will make it out of here” you had told the older girl years ago, when you finally confided in her. Selah didn’t shut you down, or went and told Mother Mehetabel about it -as you had feared she would at first, no. The blonde girl had looked at you and nodded.
“One day you will.” were the only words that came out of her mouth before adding “Run and don’t look back when the day comes.”
Since you were Little, you were hungry for more. Not hungry like one would be for food, or maybe money like the bankers that had settled in Blackwater over the past few years, no. You were filled with a lust for life. Experience, new places, new people. Anything but the convent and everything coming with it.
After a beat you spoke up again while weaving her hair together
“Do you think they made it?”
Selah was still for a moment. Birds were hunting each other through the bright sky as two ravens cawed in the distance. She didn’t open her eyes as she smiled “Yea I think so” she shifted onto her side, finishing the last bit of the braid herself. “They are probably on the ferry right now, heading over there...” I had to smile at the thought, I liked to believe that it was the truth. “And then they will eat Tapas and Empañadas!” She added, getting up and dusting off her habit and fixing veil and cap.
“Tapas and Empanadas?” An amused chuckle came from you as she helped you up and started to dust off the back of your robe
“Mhm, typical Mexican food I think, I’ve seen vendors sell them in Blackwater a few times. It’s like…baked turnover with filling, Tapas are like…tiny little food portions” Selah explained but she sounded surer of herself when promising that their Sisters had made it over the sea. You smiled oh so faintly at that -as the low horn of a steamboat cut through the stifling summer air like thunder. As soon as you turned your head to look over at her, the blonde had already taken your hand and ran back to the gravel path with you in tow, also chuckling lightly by now. You held up your habit with the other as you followed her. The other novices that worked the flowerbeds didn’t say anything, not that most of them bothered anyway. She led you to the old wooden fence; where you often stood to watch the large boats dock. You both put your chins on the plank's tops, watching quietly. The ship was big. It looked different from the other ones that usually docked at the port or steered across Flat Iron Lake, white wooden planks laced with red accents; thick smoke rushed out of its chimney as it came to halt.
No travellers were waiting at the pier, nor were any getting off the boat -but lawmen emerged.
This was different
Normally there would be a lot of people in a crowd, waiting for boarding, not the law. Some men were stepping off the boat after docking, these people looked important. Suits and all.
“Why are there no passengers…” You finally ask no one in particular as your eyebrows furrowed slightly
“That’s not an ordinary ferry” Selah said simply, but quietly, why did she always seem to know so much about everything? -“What?”
“That boat isn’t transporting people like that, a riverboat secured like that got money on it, probably a ton of it…” she explained her assumption in a hushed tone, as if someone was around who wasn’t meant to hear. You looked at the scene more closely: lawmen talking to some important looking men, guns everywhere, it looked like they were securing the area -hard to tell from the distance.
“They never sleep…” the other girl mumbled but before you could do as much as open your mouth to ask anything else, an irritated voice was interrupting your observation -Mother Mehetabel, God be with you.
“Mother” you both said in sync, bowing your heads slightly as you clasped your hands in front of your stomachs reflexively. The older nun did not look amused. Her beady dark eyes were narrowed as she looked at the two girls, arms crossed in front of her chest, as she usually would. Greyish black curls were peeking out from under her cap. Mother Mehetabel was Saint and Devil at both times.
You can’t think that
She had taken in many girls into the Sisterhood. Poor, orphaned, immigrated, didn’t matter to her. The only thing that mattered was the fulfilment of living like God would want her to. Working towards the wolds salvation -and she would do everything to make sure salvation would come. So, if someone didn’t think the way she liked or misbehaved, she wasn’t shy of using her seemingly “god given right” to punish in any way that she deemed as necessary. On the other hand, she truly was a savior to many. Most girls in the convent were coming from rough places, Sister Sage, Clara, Maria, Selah, the list went on and somewhere under all those names you would even find your own. Your father had died due to Typhoid fever which he probably got from another soldier while serving in the army, while your mother couldn’t support you and herself anymore, she decided to offer you a better future by handing you over to the convent in Blackwater. “Not out of malice or because she didn’t want you” -Mother Mehetabel made sure you knew that ever since you could think. Since then, she was always there. Childhood, your teenage years, and now as you’re becoming a young woman. She was good at heart, you knew that…but sometimes it was hard to remember a good heart when the shell is simply too rough. Still, you never wanted to be like her. Staying in the convent, becoming a nun when finishing probation and dedicating your life to God -this was where your life was leading to, it was the ultimate goal of noviciate life. To you, never setting foot outside the holy building seemed like Hell instead of the honour it’s supposed to be.
“What are you two doing here?” She screeched at them, making them shrink together a bit, you didn’t dare to even look at her but after a moment, Selah spoke up in the calm and collected way she always did.
“Mother, we heard commotion at the pier and wanted to investigate. We saw the ferry and thought that maybe people from overseas would step off, people in need of godly help and support. I would’ve gone and told you, so you could’ve organised a group to head out and spread the mission and help those who need it.”
The nun looked at her resentfully, quietly.
…
“And you?” She now looked at you, like a rattlesnake looked at a mouse before striking
Swallowing hard you spoke up “I too found myself concerned- “ you added posh, your chances of getting away were good since you still had months until your religious vows, that you never wanted to take, so you might get off the hook easier.
…
“Go back to the refectory, the midday meal will be served in 10 minutes…” she muttered with her gravel-like voice before she clasped her hands together behind her back and strut off. You exhaled all your nervousness at once when the old nun turned her back and headed to the convent building. It wasn’t that you couldn’t argue or think quick in certain situations, you knew how to handle yourself to an extent, but you also knew that some people were just not to mess with, and Mother Mehetabel was one of them.
-
Over the past days you were watching the ship almost every night. Sneaking out wasn’t as hard as Mother Mehetabel made it out to be, once the woman had retreated to her chamber, she was practically out cold, probably the weight of her beliefs making her fall asleep that quick. Selah sometimes accompanied you, but she wasn’t as invested as you were. Some evenings you simply stood at the fence, watching the people of Blackwater mingle. Sure, it wasn’t forbidden to leave the convent if you wanted to. Tho, your case was making it complicated: having no money or family that could help you out, your chances of finding a way to survive out there were slim. Very slim. Not to mention the fact that you had no real cue how the world worked outside of the convent or church. You had never spoken to people that weren’t in contact with the church in some way, only stepped foot off the property about ten times in your whole life after you were given to the convent. The biggest dealbreaker tho, were Selah and Mother Mehetabel. Sure, Selah wanted you to use every opportunity to leave, she knew about your distaste for this lifestyle, your fear of growing old in the convent as a nun, but still. She had become a dear friend to you over the years, almost like a real sister, not just in the title way. With Mother Mehetabel it was different, sure you hated her at times, when she yelled, when she had made you read whole Parables or “just one more Gospel” in the past as a twisted kind of punishment-
“The one who conceals hatred has lying lips, and whoever utters slander is a fool.”
But in the end, she still took care of you, in a sense almost like you’d imagined that a mother would. Not a Mother novice, but a mother. She was like that with all the girls: hard and strict but defending and caring when the day ended or when they were in need of it. Leaving would seem ungrateful for all the years of care. Telling her “I just want to see more of the world” wouldn’t be reason enough for her. Not while you were almost done with probation and Mother Mehetabel already saw you as “chosen by the Lord to follow this path”. She was too obedient and faithful for that to even consider letting you leave anymore, maybe if you would’ve been braver a few years back...but even then, your situation would’ve been the same: no money, no support from outside, still feeling guilty and to your surprise…scared. Scared of what would happen. Scared of the world that would be waiting for you out there. Scared of what Mother Mehetabel would do if you had to come back -or worse, get sent back because you were deemed as a runaway. She would be furious.
How could you pull this off…
You sighed lowly into the cool night air as you watched the light of the ship illuminate the water rippling below. Lawmen were securing it day and night, a shitty job and still, those people had more than you. Probably in any sense. Money, freedom, life. You envied even them…
“Wrath is cruel, anger is overwhelming, but who can stand before jealousy?”
The nightlife was in full swing, stagecoaches and horses were everywhere. Over the past years Blackwater had grown from a town to a small city right in the middle of nowhere. The new train station was great for institutions so they could move money across state lines safely, and the port was a good spot for steamboats to dock. With that, more people moved here, the town grew, shops had extended their opening hours as it seemed, the lights were still on in most of the windows and people were buzzing around the streets like it wasn’t already around 2 AM. Nothing like how it was a few years ago. When it was full of outlaws and other unholy riffraff -not that the fact would’ve held you back from leaving.
Funny how just this fence separated you from there…
A tingly feeling spread from your fingertips as you gripped the wooden planks a bit tighter, you’d only have to swing over…nobody would notice, you could leave all this behind in just a few seconds-
“Thinking about it again?” you whipped around
Oh it was just Selah, thank the Lord.
The girl had her hair up in a bun, no veil or cap in sight. Bold, but no one was around to see besides you. Her rather pale face was softly contoured in the dim light of the moon, her usually blue-greenish eyes seemed almost black. Selah was definitely one, if not the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. Then again, you hadn’t seen many people in person during the span of your life at the convent.
“Maybe…” you fiddled with the night gown you wore. “It’s just…its right there...” gaze locking back onto the other side, subconsciously onto the boat on Flat Iron Lake.
“It would be easy to just…you know-”
She looked at you as if trying to figure out if a girl like you was able to pull off an escape like this.
“So, its final. You’ll leave?” Selah finally asked with a finality in her tone that made you rethink your decision, but you nod.
“Come with me-” you almost stammered out without meaning to. Fear could do things like that sometimes. Make you act first without asking for permission.
She shook her head no, smiling bittersweet. “I’ve seen enough. My place is here. Yours is out there somewhere…” carefully she pushed your hair back behind your ears before hugging you, you hugged her back. A real hug. The realest you had felt in a long time.
Stepping away, she looked at the boat “When do you plan to leave?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. During gardening. I think so at least…since running off in the dark won’t do me much good I guess-” you hadn’t really planned this through but you needed to leave as long as you had the courage to, or you’d never dare to do it. Where would you go? Stay? What would you do if you made it far enough? You had no clue…
The girl nodded slightly, looking back at you before reaching into the satchel by her belt, pulling out a few crinckled dollars and a few coins.
“Take this, it’s not much- but it’s something. Head straight to the train station down the street, ask for a ticket to Valentine, you will get a cheap room at the saloon for a night with this, you might find work there too” she said serious, you had never seen her look at you like that. Almost like Mother Mehetabel sometimes did.
“Where do you got this from?”
“Don’t worry about it- “
“Did you take it out of the donation box?” My eyes already widened in surprise -and in concern, but Selah said nothing. Theft could lead to grave consequences for her, maybe even to her losing permission to lay down her vows. Sometimes you wondered why she seemed so careless, especially now as she was almost at the end of her probation.
“You shall not steal; you shall not deal falsely; you shall not lie to one another”
“You didn’t have to- “
“I want you to find the life you deserve. You don’t belong here; you have to be out there somewhere. I can feel it. So, when you get the chance tomorrow, when no one’s looking during gardening. Run. Climb the fence and run away, I’ll tell the Mother that the order has sent you to another convent for a change, maybe she will believe that you will take the whole thing more serious after staying somewhere else. You’ll be long gone when she finds out the truth” This almost sounded as if Selah had been planning your escape herself for a while.
“Thank you…” was the only thing you could get you to respond. So, it was settled. Tomorrow would be the day. You wouldn’t shy away this time.
-
It was late afternoon. The time has come, finally, you were ready. Confident in your decision even. On the first of May, 1899, you would find freedom. This time you wouldn’t just stand by the fence, no, you would climb it and leave this place behind. You would leave Selah behind. She stood by you at the fence as you both were waiting for the city's streets to clear for a safe escape. They didn’t need any witnesses, since it didn’t occur every day that someone seemed to “flee” from a convent, then again, the commotion by the docks was probably distraction enough. There were more people than usually around today for some reason.
This whole time they stood by the fence, maybe even longer, gunshots and shouting were heard from the port. You had no clue what was going on, Selah said it might be some fishermen’s drinking game, the distance made it hard to put the pieces together, then again -it wasn’t like the docks were your goal so you took it as a pleasant distraction for your own mission.
“Selah- thank you for everything you did for me over the years and- “
“Oh, don’t you start with that now, I know, I will miss you too but trust me, paths always cross again. Gods will or not” she interrupted, making you pause, just looking back at her “You can be so rude- “ but she only clicked her tongue at that, rolling her eyes before focusing back on the pedestrians hurrying about. “You will make it. Trust me. You will get on that train, get out of this godforsaken town and find the life you deserve…” the blonde’s concentrated muttering almost sounded challenging now, as if it was her own mission, your eyes widened a bit as she swore. You had rarely heard people swear. You focus back on the streets and finally-
They were clear- no stagecoach or anyone on horseback in sight.
“Go, go, go, go on, run!” she urged you methodically, practically shoving you over the fence as you were already hoisting yourself up and over it you went.
Freedom
Your feet hit the ground with a thud, and you ran. You ran as if the devil himself was after you. In the distance you could hear Selah cheer you on, laughing even. It warmed your heart and broke it at the same time to leave her behind. Leave her behind in the cage you grew up in. In the cage that you were free to leave at any time, but penniless and scared to do. Not anymore. Your skirt swirled up dust as you made your way over the street, days before you saw a small niche that was rarely entered by anyone. Just to the left of the general store. You slowed your step just shortly after slipping into the alleyway, you noticed how strange it felt. Being outside. It felt wrong. Carefully you made your way through the maze of alleyways, stopping at a buildings corner, it was the saloon you reckoned. Normally people were gathered around the establishment about now, talking, drinking? Going on about their day -there wasn’t a single soul, and it was early evening. You decided to keep walking, curious. It was good for you that it was that empty, nobody there to notice some novice. Days ago you had decided to play the act of a “lost little church girl” if discovered or asked what you were doing out alone, because honestly, what would a girl like you do out there all alone, especially dressed up like this? Novices mostly went around in groups when spreading the mission.
Carefully you peeked around the corner of the alleyway. You caught a glimpse of the main road, the clopping of horseshoes on cobblestone, gunshots and shouting was a steady background sound. What was going on there- No. The train station, you only had to get to the train station. Get it together. A group of lawmen galloped by, they seemed to be in a hurry and so were you. Rushing over to the building that looked…painfully empty…? But the train would leave so soon, it was almost 8 PM and you KNEW that it would leave punctually. Quickly you pushed past the doors.
For a moment you just looked around the station. A lot of relatively new looking attire mixed with the old wooden original interior, semi clean floors and a map of the trains stops on the wall -a man rushed past. Maybe he was the one who sold the tickets? He had a suit that looked like it could belong to someone who was working at the place.
“Sir? I don’t want to bother but- “
“What’re ya doing here girl?!” The middle-aged man sounded gruff as he was hectically closing windows before he went behind the counter you stood in front of. You shrunk back a bit at the tone but didn’t relent.
“I just need a ticket to Valentine-“ you stuttered out, this was feeling strange. Was it always like this out here?
“Train’s not heading off tonight”
“What- Why?” You panicked, following the man unasked as he went into the back, opening a save and putting all the money and gold bars into a shoulder bag. “The train always heads off at 8- “
“No, listen girl, train ain’t goin’ anywhere. YOU head back to whatever church you came from!” the man snapped at her “go and pray for our men out there” he looked out the window, an almost fearful look on his face as he kept packing his things hurried.
You quieted down, following his gaze. The lawmen were now squatting in front of the ferry, some on the street, some in stores, you could even see some reflections of gun barrels on rooftops. Men were shouting orders wildly while repositioning. After you looked more closely, you finally understood the situation now that you were closer to the scene.
That boat was getting robbed.
While you were trying to get a ticket like a fool.
How could you not have guessed that, especially since Selah had already predicted that the unordinary ship must carry a lot of money-
Now you also understood why nobody was out there anymore, people left the city when the shooting escalated.
A loud shatter made you flinch back, spinning around just in time to see the glass of a window break. The man rushed over to you with an agitated tone in his voice “Step back girl, why the hell are you-“ he didn’t make it any further. Blood splattered across your habit and face as he got shot from behind, through the broken window. Frozen up. That’s what you were when he collapsed against you. Immediately you stepped back, dropping him to the floor as he heaved a few times before exhaling one last time while you were breathing like you ran from Mother Mehetabel when she threatened with punishment, your hands now stained with his blood, looking down at them you started to realise the weight of the situation fully. Your head snapped up when you heard voices coming from outside, fear rose in your chest -could it get even worse? Immediately you ran to the room in the back, no that was stupid, it was a dead end. For a moment your gaze lingered on the shoulder bag that was now laying by the dead man, you took a short time contemplating it before taking it from him. It was no theft anymore, this was survival. While pulling the strap off, you saw something shimmer at his belt.
A revolver
You didn’t hesitate as you took the weapon as well, despite never having used one before, it was better than nothing. The shouting got louder, nearer. As quickly as possible you rushed to the next best hiding spot -the counter, hastily crouching down and pressing the bag to your chest, knees pulled close to yourself as you sat beneath it.
About a second later, a door got forcefully thrown open somewhere, frantic footsteps were heard, heavy breathing, commanding voices and the stench of blood and gunpowder filled the station in an instant, then…nothing but breathing.
It was quiet for a moment before one started to speak again, seemingly after everyone had calmed slightly.
“They shot Jenny-“
“Davey, you with us?” Someone headed to the room in the back. “Davey” let out a pained grunt in response to the question.
“Where are Mac and Sean?”
“Don’t know, they’ll come back.” A deeper voice spat authoritative yet stressed, the man was pacing like a caged animal.
You pressed yourself into the corner a bit more, even breathing seemed too loud
“What now?” A rough, strained sounding voice asked
“We get out of here, no more witnesses, no more losses”
You looked up as a pair of boots with shiny spurs stepped past the counter, trying not to make a sound. You felt your heartbeat in your ears. Carefully you adjusted the revolver in your hand. You didn’t even know how to cock the hammer.
Silence
Then someone bowed down to your level
The man had longer greasy blonde hair and the most bone chilling grin you had ever seen.
“Well lookit that” he said smeary, you held the gun a bit tighter, face burning in fear, he crooked his head, a low chuckle down in his throat as if he knew you were posing no threat to him. “Now, now, no need for that, huh?” He reached for the gun but you pulled back, kicking him square in the chest to what he let out an agitated sound, stumbling back a bit. As he opened his mouth to spit an insult-
“Micah, what’re you doing, we don’t have time for-“ the man quieted as he saw you, swearing under his breath. He was neatly dressed, if you didn’t know better, he was some pompous city man. Black slicked back hair and all -in an instant you pointed the gun at him, you didn’t even think twice about it for some reason, it shocked yourself. The man stepped back, hands held up. “Easy!” his deep voice cracked slightly at a higher pitch “No reason for violence, Miss…” a smooth tone flooded into his voice, the situation calming slightly with the added distance he created as he took a step back from the counter while you tried to make yourself seem capable -despite not being capable nor calm at all. “We ain’t here for blood…” shouting was heard from outside, unnerving the men. “What’re we gonna do with her?” The first man, now deemed as Micah, asked almost thrilled “You said no more witnesses-” he added. Hand already on his holster as if he couldn’t wait anymore to draw it. Though, the other man was quiet at first, tense but not because of the gun you pointed at him. Despite it all he studied you, then the bag and gun you still held tightly, as if contemplating something. “Whats your name” a demand, when you told him he repeated it lowly, rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion, exasperation even as he turned to pace a bit.
“We can’t kill her” Another one with a Mexican accent, so you thought, threw in
“Why not?” Micah’s piercing eyes locked onto the man
“She’s a nun, you don’t do that”
“Maybe YOU don’t, but I-“
“Enough, Javier is right, you don’t kill god's favourites, we don’t have time for this!” The man interrupted him taut, while turning back to you, crouching down to your level; and offered a hand which you didn’t accept at first but then had no choice but to do so anyway, since he didn’t step back and simply took it himself. Pulling you up. “You Miss, will have to come with us now.” He stated, leaving no room for negotiation as he looked around with calculating glances. Your eyes widened at the declaration, the gun still in hand but long forgotten, bag hugged tight as you looked between the men who all seemed like they just went through hell. Bloodied, dirty, strikingly rough men. Outlaws. You didn’t dare to speak up, hadn’t even got the time to. “We move!” He announced firmly, drawing his gun as he made his way to the back of the station. With that everyone got up from their spot, getting ready to head out “Javier, take the girl with you-” you looked over at the black haired man who waved you over quickly, almost immediately you followed the gesture and knelt down besides him as they waited for…something. You felt filled with fear but also…adrenaline? Maybe, but not out of the good kind of excitement, at least not the excitement you had hoped to find once leaving the convent- this all went overwhelmingly quick for you, were you getting kidnapped right now? Were they going to kill you later? Why did you even follow their commands? Why were you even thinking for so long? You should try to find a way to make a run for it and-
“No need to be scared little nun, it’ll be alright once we’re on horseback” Javier tried to assure you, but you had already checked out minutes ago really, only nodding and following orders like you were used to. Horseback. So, it could get worse.
You wanted adventure, right?
Quietly you looked back down at your hands, the blood had dried. It was a view you never thought you’d have and would probably never forget. Suddenly you got pulled along, too rough for what you were used to, but you tried to keep up as they headed into the forest behind the station. Gunshots and shouting followed them as they went. Horses whinnied anxiously when they arrived. You looked over just in time as the man with light brown hair who seemingly got shot in the gut badly barely made it onto his horse.
“Where do we go now, Dutch-”
“Away John, far, far away, get the others first and then leave for good” Dutch announced boisterous despite the situation as they swung onto their horses. Javier helped you up behind him before kicking the stallion into a steady gallop -still a horrible first ride for someone who had never sat on a horse before.
For the first time you were thankful for your mother's decision to give you to the convent.
-
They had been riding for what felt like hours by now. Earlier they had regrouped with a couple of other people, it were some more men and women, older and younger, even a child was with them. You later learned that they were also part of the group, now they were riding in a queue through the northern mountains of Ambarino. Snow was falling heavily, coldness seeping right into one's bones. It was hard to see anything in the storm that had caught them in its midst, it was dark by now and the snow didn’t make it any easier. The oil lanterns that were attached to the wagon were flailing around as if the storm toyed with them, while spending only very little light. You sat in the middle of it, in a wagon with two other women, some kind of Reverend? And Davey. However, he didn’t look good at all, being shot in the stomach. You had learned how to help people in need back at the convent, but you haven’t been taught how to tend to wounds of this extent so the only help you had offered was giving away your veil to spend more warmth -you felt guilty for not knowing better. The three had tried to help him as best as they could, but he died shortly after, in circumstances like this it wasn’t much of a surprise, but you didn’t want to admit that. The Reverend had closed Davey’s eyes and put a blanket over the dead man, after they sat in serenity for a moment -until voices called out in the storm. Hard to make out what they were saying, but you definitely heard them.
“Are you cold, Miss?” The younger woman, her eyes were dark in the low light, seemingly filled with hope despite everything, inquired. She was bundled up in a blanket, just like you were.
“No, no. It’s fine-“
It wasn’t fine at all. You never had felt cold like that before. Sure, it was cold on some nights in the cells, but this felt like purgatory.
She nodded and sat back down. “I’m Tilly” She had a soft southern drawl to her voice as she introduced herself in a moment of quietness. Over the last few hours, they all had been taking turns sleeping and caring for Davey. The weather made staying awake a task itself, so there was only little time to talk. You gave her your name in return. “Are you on mission?” The older man, sitting opposite to you asked. He had sunken eyes that somehow made him look almost sick, tho the thick pointy moustache made up for it. Shaking your head no you shifted beneath the blanket. “So, you’re an unlucky witness I take it?” Were you? Technically no, you had no clue who these people were or what exactly had happened in Blackwater besides them having a shootout by the riverboat, then again- you saw them, and therefore gotten in their way. This time you nodded. He let out a low hum of acknowledgment. The wind howled.
“Well, I used to be a clergyman, back in New York” -New York. You had only ever heard whispers of that place before, so you just hummed lowly, like he did before: in acknowledgment. He seemed to zone out for a moment.
“Seems like you’re part of this mess now…” the other woman in the wagon, a bit older than you and Tilly probably, gave him a sharp look “Mr. Swanson, don’t act like there is no hope. Here I thought you were some holy guide-“
Mr. Swanson didn’t say anything to that, looking away.
“Let the man be, Abigail…” Tilly chimed in gently besides all the factors that made gentleness feel foreign.
Abigail scoffed at that but let up, diverting her attention to you. She had sharp facial features that were sticking out in the dim light. “So..a nun, huh…” her eyes flicked down to the rosary you still wore over the bloodied habit, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “Well, I’m a novice, not a nun yet…” you mumbled but she didn’t look like she cared much for the correction, you stayed quiet as well, it was an embarrassing silence. Tilly looked between you two.
“What are you gonna do with me…?” It was a strangely phrased question, but you wanted to know. Would they tie you up? Hold you for ransom? Kill you brutally, like you had heard it in the churchgoer's stories?
The older woman sighed, looking out of the wagon. “I don’t know, but we are no murderers, I can assure you that much. Dutch will know how to handle your situation”
Dutch. The man was the leader of this whole group, no, “gang” you got involved with. Maybe this was meant to happen, was there something like fate or predestination after all?
“The Lord has made everything for its purpose, even the wicked for the day of trouble”
The wagon swayed hard due to the winds as they made their way deeper into the mountains, into the cold, into your unforeseeable future.
-
The Grizzlies were an unforgiving place. Snow everywhere, coldness was ever present. After a journey that seemingly didn’t want to end, they arrived at the abandoned mining town that Micah had found about two days ago. Dutch had sent him out to scout with John, but Micah returned alone one night. Said John got lost in the blizzard but honestly, after your first encounter with him, one would certainly believe him capable of having left him behind. Tho there were already people out there looking for him, Javier and a man you didn’t know, left a few hours ago. Now that the storm was over and they had settled in Colter, you started to catch up with everything that had happened in the past days.
You got taken in by a wanted outlaw gang
You almost froze to death
And you were free
Sitting in the main cabin, a somewhat hot coffee in hand, life didn’t look as hopeless as the Reverend had predicted it to be. You looked around to see some other women tend to clothes while they talked. They seemed so different from what you were used to from the Sisters at the convent. Not in a bad way, they were harsh at times, brutally honest and used guns like the men did. Mother Mehetabel would’ve already started a prayer by now. The same with the men, she would’ve described them as “wild vagabonds who lost their connection to god”. Wood was creaking dangerously loud as the door opened, an older gentleman entered, you had gotten introduced to him already, when he had given you warmer clothes during the snowstorm.
“Warm enough, Sister?” He asked kindly as he sat down by the chimney next to you with a low groan. “Even if not, I don’t think there would be much you could change about it, Mr. Matthews” you answer polite, less tense by now, but still playing it save. You still didn’t know their plans for you. The older man scoffed “Just Hosea is enough” well that was a start, perhaps the people outside of the church weren’t such big “vagabonds” as Mother Mehetabel wanted her to believe. He pulled the blanket further over your shoulder before speaking “Ain’t nobody gotta freeze out here, one of us or not…”
One of us
“What are you gonna do with me?” You decided to go for it
He looked at you, head slightly tilted and eyebrows furrowed, not in annoyance as the nun’s were a lot of the time, but simply in thought.
“Well, we didn’t bring you along this far, clothed and fed you just to kill you, hm?”
“But I am a witness-“
“And most of these people out there have done way worse things than bein’ a bystander in a robbery they had no part in…” Hosea’s voice took on a softer, almost tired tone by the end. Leaning forward, he poked at the embers with a stick. “Don’t worry Sister, you can stay with us until were out of here” a slight cough was coming from him, as if he was getting sick, but maybe it was just the smoking. You looked down at your mug “I don’t want to be a bother-“
“Bother? Sister, there ain’t no need for worries like that…” he leaned a bit closer, voice lowering “remember the bag you had? There was money in it. Not a fortune, but enough for us to use for new supplies once we’re down from the mountain.” You were momentarily mute, you had forgotten about the bag, or rather, what was inside. The station master had probably stuffed about the whole revenue into it in his haste.
“Oh…”
A faint snicker came from him before finally setting the stick aside. “Yea, “Oh” is about right”
The door opened again, the cold immediately flooding into the small room. Dutch appeared in his thick black wool coat. He looked as distressed as he did at the train station, like he didn’t get much sleep either, then again, no one slept well in Colter.
“Hosea. Sister.” He nodded, taking up the space besides Hosea as he warmed his hands by the fire “I see you two are cozying up, any godly foreseeing about when we get down from this goddamn mountain?” Their leader spoke, not strict, not demanding, but almost joking. Mother never did this. “I fear not…”
“The girl asked what we were gonna do with her” Hosea snorted, as if it was a joke between the two men. Dutch let out a long exhale in response before you could see the corners of his mouth twitch slightly upwards underneath his moustache, he suddenly didn’t seem like the commanding leader you had witnessed him being in Blackwater. “Well, nothing much, Sister. You…” he turned to you, pausing almost dramatically “are a gift of the Lord -in a sense, of course. The money will come in useful…” for the first time you felt like you could actually contribute something, not like with Davey back in the wagon. Still, you had the urge to…prove yourself somehow.
“So, you’re just going to let me stay…?” You ask carefully, not trying to overstep your welcome.
“We feed those as need feeding, and we shoot those as need shooting. You, Sister, need the former” he had put his gloved hands on your shoulders as he looked down at you, calculating? Maybe, but also honest.
Hosea piped up again “We’ll bring you to the next town once were down from here, until then you’re safe with us” that was a generous gesture of hospitality, one you couldn’t refuse, so you thanked them lowly.
Loud commotion from outside interrupted the moment, Hosea and Dutch shot each other a look before they got up and headed out the door, hands already on their holsters -you followed. The bright snow blinded you for a moment as you stepped outside into daylight. Two horses were prancing around nervously, Javier was sitting on one, the other man you didn’t know was with him, but who you definitely noticed was John. He looked beat. Frozen, bloodied as if he got attacked. Some gang members pulled him off the horse as carefully as they could, what still had John groan in pain, and Abigail immediately started to fret over him. A mix of relieved words and insults coming from the woman as they dragged him off to the main cabin. When they went past you, you got a glimpse of his face, which was scratched up really good, this was when it hit you. Your studies at the convent. The things you had learned about patching up the hurt. This was a person in need you could actually help, unlike you could Davey.
“Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality”
Immediately you went after the group, back into the cabin. Now you could prove your usefulness. The women were arguing about what the best way to start was while John was simply suffering in silence, the poor man was probably happy that he at least was somewhere warm in the first place. Looking at him from the spot you stood at, a bit off to the side, you noticed how blood seeped through the fabric of his coat by his left arm, how angry the scratches on his face looked. You opened your mouth to speak but Susan Grimshaw interrupted you as she was trying to get Abigail to see things her way, you waited for the best moment to cautiously make yourself heard, but it seemingly never came. John’s situation was similar to the many cases you had witnessed and treated at the convent. Homeless or drunk men after fights, street urchins that needed a patch up, the outcome was often the same. “Abigail- “you tried to get the woman's attention, but she was in a fiery discussion with the gang's matriarch.
“You know a thing or two about patching folks up proper like, Sister?” Hosea had appeared besides you
“Yes, learned it at the convent” he raised an eyebrow, looking back over his shoulder as another, unfamiliar voice cut through the room.
“Let the nun do her work, she’ll know what’s best. Got God on her side or somethin’…” the gruff voice was declaring, firm. You turned to see who it belonged to. In the doorway stood a rather tall man in a blueish coat that slightly matched the colour of his narrowed eyes which you almost couldn’t make out since they were half hidden under the rim of his gambler hat. He had been with Javier earlier when they went searching for John. The women stopped arguing shortly after, Grimshaw left the cabin -obviously offended, while Abigail sat down by her…partner? husband? You weren’t sure but assumed so by the way you had seen her treat him. The gunslinger stepped up next to you and Hosea, a hand on his belt as he assessed John for a moment. “Y’ look like you had a fun time up n’ the mountains Johnny” he drawled with a oh so faint smirk on his lips that was only there if you looked for it. The other man just scoffed at the remark “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” He rasped defensive before his eyes settled on you. Looking eager for help. You took it as your sign to start. Still, you couldn’t help but find your eyes flicker back up to the stranger now and then while dabbing the scars on John's face with alcohol, Abigail still by his side.
It was your first real tribute to the gang besides keeping the bag. John wasn’t as good as new, for that you’d have needed the supplies you would have used in the convent, but he was patched up and hopefully getting better soon.
Later that evening, when snowfall had started to pick up again, most of the gang members had come together in the main cabin before heading off to sleep. It was a routine, you had noticed. Mr. Pearson had fixed up a stew out of supplies and a deer that Charles, a rather quiet fellow, had brought back to the makeshift camp from a hunting trip earlier. It smelled like hearty food in the small house, the wind howling outside- and the members chattering inside. For the first time since arriving at Colter, the atmosphere seemed…content. At least something like that, after Dutch had held another grand speech about “loyalty and Faith” -not that word again, the mood shifted to the better, looser. Javier strummed a low tune on his guitar, the fire was spending warmth and looking closely, you could tell that these people weren’t just some group of criminals, no, they were a family as makeshift as the camp they had set up in the middle of nowhere. Almost like the Sisterhood. You were tired, and still unsure how to integrate in this group of people, so you sat a bit off to the side. Still watching them like a quiet observer, curious. They all had this familiarity to them: the way Karen spoke to Mary-Beth, how Abigail cared for her son, how Lenny was playing some knife game with no care in the world. As if this was their daily life. The crate next to you creaked as someone sat down. The man from earlier that day, you still hadn’t found out about his name, but you guessed that he was somehow important based on the situation with John earlier. You didn’t initiate any conversation, if he made the choice to sit all the way over by you, he’d have a reason. When you looked over you saw how the fire illuminated his face as he ate, the small scar on his chin, the stubble beard that looked like he hadn’t shaved it recently.
“So…you a nun on the run?” He asked, not sounding invested, but somewhat interested. The fire popped.
“You could say that”
“What’re ya runnin’ from?”
You stilled, you couldn’t tell him the truth, it would make you sound pathetic.
A little novice seeking adventure after being in the convent for years, with no real sense of the world, nor any way of making it through said world, getting involved with a wanted outlaw gang.
That didn’t sound like the material outlaws or people who survived snowstorms in the Grizzlies were made of…
“It’s not like I’m on the run from someone, just…got caught up in this somehow”
“How’d a nun get caught up n’ a boat robbery?”
“Unlucky timing” or maybe just the right?
He stilled. Then looked vaguely amused by what you told him. Setting his bowl aside he sat back a bit, one forearm braced on his knee as he looked through the people first, then back at you. Really looked at you, it almost made you feel uncomfortable to be looked at so directly by a man. You only knew very plenty men, mostly the chaplains, confessors or laymen of the convent, but you weren’t one who usually indicated conversation if it wasn’t with the priests. It wasn’t proper. So, you mostly just watched the laymen work from a distance if you got the chance. You knew it was wrong, that this form of lust was wrong…
“But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire”
“What’s ya real name, Sister?” You tell him and he nods once as he shifted on the crate. “I’ve thought that nuns usually don’ leave their churches at all...” He didn’t let up, did he? Were you really that suspicious to him? A “nun on the run” being a threat to a bunch of outlaws?
“No, they mostly don’t but I’ve already told you, I was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.” You started to sound tired of the questioning, not annoyed but close to it. Rare for you since all those years at the convent had given you the patience of a saint. Must be the circumstances. It was a bit of a drastic change for you after all…
The corner of his mouth quirked up for a second, but he hid it well, running a hand along his jaw.
“Who even are you?” Your voice was giving away your nerves; the tiredness made you sound like a petulant child even to your own ears. After noticing you almost felt ashamed of the childish way you had probably portrayed yourself by accident, now poking at some meat in the stew as you looked down again.
“Arthur” he said simply, still watching you with some kind of amusement lingering in his eyes, not directly on your expense, but indirectly so. As if he was watching some animal that couldn’t get itself out of a trap -at least that was how you felt as he looked at you.
A low hum came from you, acknowledgment again, you had learned that people around here seemingly did just hum like that instead of speaking a lot of the time.
You fiddled with the skirt that you wore, borrowed from Tilly. The women had dressed you “like a real outlaw” yesterday. Said they would turn her into a “wild child” your eyes had widened at that, if Mother Mehetabel would’ve heard that- or in fact, saw you now, in midst of the mountains of Ambarino, sitting in an old mining cabin with a bunch of wanted outlaws. You didn’t even want to imagine what she’d do as a punishment, or all the trials she would set for the priest and bishop to drive the evil spirits out of you.
The dress was new to you as well, given that you mostly only wore covering habits. It was colourful. A rich dark blue with a white underskirt. The sleeves were a bit puffy and there were sewn on flowers at the skirts end and around the waist. Someone seemingly put thought and time into it. The piece was revealing too -you had never worn anything that showed off your collarbones besides your night gown, but that was just for sleep. It was a rather curious outfit mixed in with the left-over coat and shawl Hosea had given you during the trip days ago.
He seemed to take his time with you
“So…what? Ditched God an’ decided to become a felon?”
“No, I just…wanted more than life in the convent” he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, was he actually interested? “It was...not how I wanted to live. Same routine everyday, same people and walls around- “
“So, you decided to run away.” he snorted, actually snorted as if your life choice was some silly joke. Still, you nodded, feigning confidence in your decision although you couldn’t do much to change it now anyway.
“I wanted more for my life, wanted to see the world and not just hear about it from churchgoers. I grew up in Backwater’s convent, but I never really left it. Well, until back then I mean…” it suddenly sounded foolish in your head. You had a great life back there. Food, warmth if the weather was right, people who cared about you.
A safe, proper life
And you ran away
Maybe this was a horrible idea. Maybe this was just a pipe dream, the kind you had when you believed in something too strongly -like Mother Mehetabel when she talked about the Lord and saviour, Salvation or anything related. She had found her safe haven in Faith; it was enough for her. Fulfilling. The life she found herself want to live with all the energy she had to give. You had always believed you would find this kind of Fulfilment once you got over the fence. Once you got a taste of the real world, of towns and cities and places you couldn’t even think of, like New York. That there was this kind of fulfilment for you as well, just not in the convent. What if you were wrong? What if there really was predestination and yours wasn’t out here in the wilderness? Or in the towns, cities or places you couldn’t think of…
“Y’are brave” you heard Arthur say, his voice lacked the mocking tone from before “Takes guts to leave your old life behind to look for somethin’ else.” Honest. That were his words, raw with honesty and southern drawl. A beat. “John said y’ pulled a gun on Dutch at the train station, that true?” He looked over at you; the fire casting shadows over half his face. You had forgotten about that, when you pointed the gun at their leader as if you had done something similar before, like a reflex you didn’t know you had. Would he be mad, knowing you had technically threatened his leader…?
“Yes it…was more of a reflex than thoughtfulness-” you tried to explain but to your surprise, Arthur didn’t look mad at all, quite the opposite: he looked impressed. “Learned how to shoot a gun at the convent?” You shook your head no. “So, you had the grit to shove your gun in the face of the most wanted outlaw in West Elizabeth without ever holding a gun before…”
Another beat
Arthur's view of you seemed to have shifted a bit. The slightly condescending look in his eyes wasn’t gone entirely, but he maybe saw you in a different light now that he knew more, got a glimpse of who this young girl was.
“Hell of a way t’make a first impression…”
He studied you for a moment longer, then looked back at the other gang members again. “This what you hoped for?” The outlaw nodded towards the others. Was it? No, not really. Then again, you hadn’t quite figured that out yourself. What did you expect? A life that would just come your way? Surely not, but you also didn’t want some life as a waitress or laundress. You had no education, so chances were slim that you’d end up in a professional line of work. You always dreamed of being out there, experience the world, travel maybe. You had never worried about money, you thought you’d surely make it alone, out in some cabin in the woods maybe-
“It kind of is” you said before you could really think about it, Arthur looked at you with a hint of surprise on his face -even you yourself were slightly surprised because this thoughtless answer was probably how you really felt about the whole situation.
“Anything is better than the convent”
He was silent for a few more heartbeats
“Well, maybe there might be an actual outlaw under all this…”
-
About just a few days later, on May 6. the gang made their way down the mountain, back into warmer regions. The Heartlands were more welcome to the exhausted members than Colter ever could be. The ride was long but worth it. The scenery was about the most beautiful thing you had ever seen -so you decided as you sat on the wagon with Tilly, Karen, Mary-Beth, Uncle, and the Reverend. Green plains with dense forests, a body of water making its way through the ground originating from the sea, splitting the two sides of the rocky landscape. Big snowy mountains in the far background, looking like they might reach for the sun which reflection was shining off of the rippling water. Wildlife seemed to be everywhere. Wild horses running free, deer grazing in clearings, squirrels or rabbits here and there in the under bushes, or birds that roamed the shorelines. There were even some animals you had plainly never seen before.
Even the air seemed friendlier, no more biting cold that hurt your throat when you inhaled, no, warmer air that felt fresh and smelled like new opportunities.
For the first time after leaving the convent, you felt hope. Not the religious kind that some people had, but the one that spread like wildfire through your chest. Like a subtle breeze keeping embers glowing. But this breeze finally felt like the embers would break out into a flame.
You looked up as a rider neared the opening of the wagon you sat in.
Arthur, on his bay. Riding next to the wagon lazily. Not saying anything. Though you had noticed him watching for a second. Checking up on them.
Over the past days at Colter, you had noticed him to be something like an ever-present being. You had been watching him subtly. He was around for everyone, helping out if needed, no matter how stressed the man seemed to be- and every evening during dinner he would ask how you were doing. He seemed to be a quiet yet attentive person -not in the way Charles was. Arthur was…different? Like a silent guide, he appeared when you needed him, vanished wordlessly when he deemed the situation as handled and that was it, no coddling or softness from the outlaw. Though, it was different from the way Mother Mehetabel had cared for you. It made you curious.
“This adventurous enough for you now, Sister?” The gruff outlaw drawled over the sound of wagon wheels dragging through the muddy road. However, even he seemed content by now. Even after a wheel that had broken off when they made it down the mountain -that he had to fix again.
“Surely not” you answered without second thought.
This was just the beginning of your journey.