Guns & Smoke

by Lauren Sevier

  “It’s not much,” Quanah said, taking off her shawl and hanging it over the back of a worn blue armchair. “But it’s home.”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. Home. I’d never had one. Not really. Not like this.

  “Your room is upstairs and to the left. It’s not very big, but it’s clean, and the bed is comfortable,” she said, shooing us upstairs with an impatient flick of her wrist. At the mention of a bed, my exhaustion from the frantic journey seemed to weigh my limbs down with weariness.

  “Thank you,” I said softly. Quanah nodded, offering me a small smile before jerking her head towards the stairs, where Jesse and The Kid disappeared. This night had been emotional and strange. So I followed behind them, listening as The Kid chattered the whole way about the story I’d “promised” him. Running my hands over my face, I turned into the room and nearly slammed into Jesse, who stopped just inside the doorway.

  He stared into the room, at the one bed that engulfed the space.

  I swore under my breath at the old woman’s mischievousness. Jesse’s eyes slid to mine, a question in them. Shifting from one foot to the other, I sighed deeply.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he offered.

  “No.” His eyes flew to my face, wide in surprise. “How long has it been since you’ve slept in an actual bed?” I asked, but I didn’t wait for his answer. “We’ll just share it.” I shrugged, trying for nonchalance.

  Jesse crossed to the washbasin in the corner and soaked a hand towel. Snapping at The Kid, he shuffled over on jittery feet, barely able to keep still long enough for Jesse to wipe his painted face clean before darting off again. I tore my eyes away from the brothers and busied myself by pulling the sheets down.

  I sat on the corner of the mattress, unlacing my boots and wriggling out of my jeans. The Kid was less graceful as he flung his shoes and sweater across the room haphazardly. Sliding under the quilt, I raised a single eyebrow at Jesse across the room.

  “Well?” I asked, and he turned his back before pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion. I pressed my face into the pillow to get the image of his strong shoulders from my mind. He crossed the room to climb on the bed on the other side of The Kid, who was already beneath the covers.

  “I don’t want you to sleep next to me. That’s weird,” The Kid said, shoving Jesse’s chest until he stood again and gave a pointed glance to the floor. I sighed deeply and pulled up the corner of the quilt in a reluctant invitation.

  “Hurry up, farm boy, before I change my mind,” I said, ignoring the flutter in my stomach as the mattress dipped behind me and the heat from his body forced a tremor through me. He shifted, and I twisted the opposite way, trying to put distance between our bodies.

  “Bonnie, I need to—"

  I nodded, turning until his arms were around me and his body pressed flush to mine. I was cocooned within his embrace so that we could both comfortably fit on our half of the bed. His breath fell hot on my neck, and it reminded me of how good it felt when he pressed his mouth to the skin there.

  “Bonnie?” The Kid said, a welcome distraction from the nearness of Jesse’s body. I made a noise to let him know I was listening. “Will you tell me the story of your scar?” I stiffened in Jesse’s embrace, and in response, he held me tighter, his chest pressing flush against my back.

  “That’s not a bedtime story,” I whispered, my voice an unattractive croak.

  “Please, Bonnie,” he whined, and I nodded softly, taking a deep breath to gather myself. I swallowed hard, turning to stare up at the ceiling instead of looking directly into The Kid’s innocent face. The thought of lying didn’t even occur to me.

  “Someone hurt me,” I said, my voice smaller than I’d imagined it would be. “Bad.”

  “Why?” The Kid asked, his voice quiet as my fingers found his hair, and I ran them through his blonde locks to calm the tremor in my hands.

  “I was being punished,” I said, and Jesse’s arm tightened almost imperceptibly around me.

  “Does it hurt?” The Kid asked. I sucked in a pained breath, pressing my lips to the top of his head.

  “Not tonight.”

  Chapter Eight - Jesse

  Shouting woke me from a dreamless sleep. I blinked awake. Laughter trilled on the air, floating up to our room. Harry. To no one’s surprise, he was already awake. Maybe, just maybe, I could capture a few more moments of sleep, before whatever trouble of the day came.

  I closed my eyes, stretching my back, only to realize there was a very soft, very warm body pressed up against mine. I ran a hand over her arm, letting it rest at her hip.

  She smelled like rain in the forest. Being in the desert so long, I’d forgotten the scent. A bitter tang of ozone muted by the sharp sting of pine.

  Bonnie buried her face in my chest, her breaths even. There was peace in her expression, a peace I so rarely got to see. The lines that normally showed her aggravation or amusement at me were gone, replaced by the serene look of an untroubled woman. Whereas the last time we’d been this close together, there was heat and urgency, now, I took my time to trace her slightly rounded cheeks with my eyes. I wanted to put a pencil to paper, to capture the serene expression on her face. To remember what she looked like when her problems were far away.

  Last night had been hard. Bonnie didn’t hesitate to put that gun to her temple when we were surrounded. I’d recognized the fear in her eyes. She didn’t want to die, but she wouldn’t go back to Jones. My eyes flickered to the yellow and pink shirt she wore, where the bottom edge of her scar stuck out. I trailed my fingers up her arm, pulling the bottom of her sleeve up to inspect it. My heart dropped into my stomach; anger pulsed through my chest.

  Jones had carved his name onto her body.

  Her bitter words last night came back to me in a flash. He has a habit of naming things he thinks he owns. The violence she’d been ready to commit only made more sense now, after she’d said the gun was the only thing she could use to bargain for her life. No wonder she was willing to put a gun to her own head to escape the tortures waiting should he get his hands on her again.

  No one deserved that.

  All I’d ever known was safety and security, but what had growing up looked like for Bonnie? She had no family, seemingly few friends, and she pulled cons on people to get by. But when threatened with going back there, she seized up like a caged animal, ready to do whatever it took to save herself.

  I brushed a stray lock of dark hair out of her face, for the first time able to stare at her plainly, without fear of her staring back. I trailed my fingertips over her cheek, marveling at the softness of her porcelain skin.

  Why did I feel like I needed to protect her?

  Bonnie wasn’t my responsibility. I knew that. I also knew that no one deserved to live a life like she had. Even if I didn’t know the details, I knew that she’d been through worse things than I could ever imagine.

  I wanted to protect her. I never wanted to see that look in her eyes again.

  That thought scared me.

  I disentangled myself from Bonnie, sliding my arm from beneath her head. I moved at a painstakingly slow pace so I didn’t jostle the bed and wake her. She rolled over, her back to me. I let out a low breath. I needed some space. The lines between us were blurring. I wasn’t supposed to care about her, wasn’t supposed to want to protect her. Having her in my arms made me forget that. I forgot last night when we were dancing, and I nearly forgot this morning. I needed to think. To breathe. After slipping on my boots, I left the room, closing the door silently behind me.

  Harry's voice drifted up the stairs as I descended. Something about crater beasts. Quanah stood at the wood-burning stove, sizzling sounds coming from the pan near her hands.

  “Coffee?” she asked, smiling in my direction. My face lit up, and I didn’t have a chance to answer her before she handed me a steaming mug. I cradled it in both hands, staring down at the dark liquid. Then I took my first glorious sip of sinful heat.

  “W
here did you get this from? We haven’t had coffee in Montana for years,” I said.

  “We aren’t far from Mexico. Men come through the Borderlands once or twice a year selling the beans at decent prices. I’m not surprised it doesn’t make it that far north. Coffee is a commodity these days,” Quanah said, giving me a knowing smile.

  I looked back to the pan in front of her. Bacon. My mouth watered at the smell. The last time we’d had any was over a year ago. Our last hogs were slaughtered by a pack of wild dogs, and none of the meat could be salvaged.

  Harry was unusually quiet. I turned to look at him, finding him smiling into a handcrafted mug.

  “What’s in that cup?” I asked.

  “Coffee,” he said smugly.

  “Who gave you coffee?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. My brother’s gaze gleamed as he looked to Quanah.

  “No one,” he said, grinning. He lifted his cup, drained it, and set it back on the table.

  “It’s mostly milk,” Quanah said in a quiet voice. I wasn’t going to argue with a woman who commanded an entire town.

  “Want to go for a walk with me?” I asked my brother. His eyes lit up, and he bounded from the table.

  “Train leaves in two hours,” Quanah called after us.

  When we stepped onto the front porch, the town was bustling. People rubbing sleep from their eyes walked by, heading in the direction of the fields. Some dragged makeshift wagons. Children walked lazily behind their parents. As we moved into the street, low voices bid us good morning.

  Light blues and pinks streaked through the sky. The clouds caught the colors and reflected them back to the world below. The main street was made of packed dirt and lined with houses on one side. A flash of holding Bonnie in my arms passed through my mind as I spied the remnants of the bonfire in the open field. A wagon pulled by two ponies passed us, the driver greeting us and complimenting the weather.

  “I like Quanah,” Harry said as we walked. I looked down at him, seeing that familiar wide-eyed excitement he got when talking to Bonnie.

  “I bet you do,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets. He glanced behind us before turning back to me.

  “I like Bonnie, too,” he said.

  “Who wouldn’t?” I remarked, chuckling to myself.

  “I think you like her. A lot.” Harry’s tone changed. Was he... teasing me?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  A shrill whistle sounded nearby. Harry covered his ears, looking up at me with wide eyes. Together, we turned toward the sound. A rusty engine blew steam into the air as it settled on the tracks. The brakes screeched and passengers spilled out on the platform. People shouted, but I couldn’t make out the words. Immediately, Harry wandered toward the engine.

  “Beauty, ain’t she?” an older man said from beside me. “Trains used to be nice to ride on. But now, we make do with what we have.”

  The man’s eyes glazed over, as if he were lost in a memory.

  “How old were you when the Culling happened?” I asked, noting the gray in his hair. His skin was rough from long exposure to the sun. He reminded me of... well... me. I knew the bone-deep burn you felt after harvesting crops all day. The exhaustion written on his face reminded me of how nice it was to fall into my bed after working in the fields.

  “I dunno. Maybe your parents’ age,” he said, scratching at his beard. “Tragic how all of those people died, but I’m sure you know about that already.”

  “My parents never talked about it. Anytime I asked questions, they went quiet,” I said, watching as the conductor of the train invited Harry into the engine car.

  “Dark times,” the man said. “Sometimes it's best to forget.”

  I wasn’t sure that I agreed with him. Mom said the reason she taught us history was to do better than those that came before us.

  After fifteen minutes of pestering the conductor with questions, I managed to pry Harry away and steer him back to Quanah’s house. He broke into a run, beating me inside the house by a few minutes. I took my time, enjoying the quiet before the day started.

  When I made it inside, Harry sat next to Bonnie. Each had a mug and plate in front of them. My brother looked up at me with a grin as Bonnie poked at her plate with her fork.

  “Bonnie’s never had bacon,” he said with a grin.

  “What?” I blurted, earning a dirty look from Bonnie.

  Quanah handed me a plate loaded with bacon, eggs, and potatoes. It smelled heavenly. I considered taking the empty chair next to Bonnie, but the silent threat in her eyes stopped me. Instead, I leaned against the counter. Through the rest of breakfast, Harry told the women about the train, including a long tale about the conductor, who said he was once a circus performer. While I doubted the man was being honest, Harry was excited about it. I could give him that, after all we’d been through.

  After eating and finishing another cup of coffee, I walked upstairs to check the room for our stuff, even though we’d left everything except what we were wearing last night on the horses. Bonnie’s boots were on the floor next to the bed. To the naked eye, they seemed small and delicate, but I knew better, remembering sharply how they had squashed my toes last night.

  I went about the room, picking up my brother’s sweater and any other wayward items. Before long, the door opened, and Bonnie walked in. A grin broke across my face.

  “How was the bacon?” I asked. Bonnie shot daggers at me with her eyes. My smile widened.

  “Shut up,” she said. Her hard features softened as she took a step toward me.

  “Oh, come on, you can’t expect us not to think that’s strange,” I said.

  “Says the guy who got run up a tree by a bear,” she countered.

  “At least I know how to dance.”

  “At least I know how to take the safety off of a gun.”

  “That gun wouldn’t have done any damage if I had,” I said.

  “It sure stopped you in that alleyway, didn’t it?” she asked.

  Was the room getting smaller? Because Bonnie stood closer to me, whereas before, she’d been across the room.

  “Speaking of that alleyway... robbing me was your idea of fun?” I shot back, grinning. She’d admitted it last night when we were dancing.

  “Yeah, farm boy, fun. That’s all it ever was meant to be,” she said, her eyes glittering at me. Her cheeks pinkened; it looked good on her. “Besides, I hadn’t robbed anybody in a while.”

  “You’re as bad at lying as you are at robbing people,” I said, tipping my head in challenge.

  The room must have gotten smaller, because Bonnie stood mere inches from me now. The heat of her skin warmed my own, and a familiar flash of desire passed through her eyes. I wanted to kiss her. Like I kissed her that first night by the fire. I leaned forward an inch. She moved closer to me, breath hitching in her throat. Then I stopped.

  She might shoot me if I tried.

  This was Bonnie. A murdering, one-and-done type of woman. Even if I did like her, I didn’t want just one night.

  “Train’s leaving soon. I’ll get the horses,” I said, but Bonnie moved faster.

  “I’ll get ‘em,” she said, shoving her feet into her boots and crossing to the door.

  “I don’t mind—” I said. But she was already gone. I stood there, staring after her, regretting my decision not to kiss her.

  I gave Bonnie ten minutes to get away from the house, because if I didn’t, I might have tried to remedy that. Then I joined Quanah and Harry downstairs. The former shouldered a pack of her own.

  “You’re coming with us?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’m due to visit Santa Fe, so I thought I would go with you on your journey,” Quanah said with a knowing look. Maybe she was joining us to help ensure our safety. It seemed like something she would do. The three of us set out on foot from Quanah’s quaint home toward the small train station. As we walked, Harry started again, his words faster than I could keep up.

  “Did you k
now that my Pop killed a bear once? Yeah, it chased Jesse up a tree!” he said as we neared a cargo box. The sliding door was wide open, showing the space full of metal crates and wooden boxes. Quanah rolled out a blanket and took a seat near the head of the car. Harry sat beside her, talking about our adventures.

  I gripped the door handle, preparing to swing up into the car. A woman cried out, and panic gripped my heart.

  Bonnie.

  People milled about, blocking my view of her. I followed the sound of her voice down the long line of cars, weaving between people trying to get onto the train. I shoved through a sudden swarm of people. When I broke through the gathering crowd, Bonnie was struggling with a man who towered over her in height. I sprang into action, sprinting toward her.

  “Get off!” she yelled. The guy twisted her arm behind her back. He struggled as she kicked him, but he succeeded in pulling her from the train. Adrenaline raced through my veins at the thought of him taking her. All rationale escaped me.

  Protect her. Protect her. Protect her.

  I swore, sweat already beading across my forehead and down my neck. The brakes let out a blast of air, kicking up dust. The train was preparing to leave. Most of the crowd dispersed, either climbing onto the train or walking away from it. We had to hurry. The guy was a little older than me and wore a dusty cowboy hat. He continued to wrench Bonnie’s arm behind her. With his other hand, he held a knife to her throat.

  The train’s whistle screeched. My already hammering heart beat an erratic rhythm.

  “You know what Jones is gonna do to you, huh?” I barely heard the man say over my own pounding pulse. “He’s gonna slice you open. He’s gonna rip your fingernails off one by one.” The man focused so intently on Bonnie, he didn’t see me coming. I took pleasure in the crunch of his nose as my fist slammed against his face. He released Bonnie, hands covering his bloody nose. She staggered toward me, eyes wide and full of shock. I moved her behind me with one hand, placing myself between them.