I was close enough that Jesse’s ragged breath feathered against my shoulder, and I could still feel the point of the knife, a prick of pain against my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath. Jesse’s chest was pressed against me, flush against my back, his hot skin and hammering heartbeat resonating into my body by proximity. My fingers twitched at my side, the tips of them brushing against Jesse’s. He inhaled at the small contact. He slid his hand against mine in return as if to say, I’m here.
I opened my eyes, fixing a determined stare on the monster in front of me.
“I fucked her, too. I’ve been fucking her since Vegas,” Jesse said, his voice tinged with desperation. “She’s my masterpiece now.”
“He’s lying,” I said, breathing slowly and deeply, hoping Sixgun would mirror me. The madness slowly receded from the corners of his eyes, but a calculating glint replaced it, his attention rapt on Jesse. Catching Sixgun’s interest would be the death of him if I didn’t intervene. I had to do something, anything, and I needed to do it fast.
“He didn’t fuck me, but Will did,” I blurted. Sixgun’s eyes snapped to me, unbridled rage curling on his lips. My heart skittered and skipped, racing so fast it was a wonder it could still beat at all.
“What did you just say?” he snarled. I grit my teeth against the urge to make myself small in front of him. To cower.
“Why’re you so upset? Because your son ruined your masterpiece?” I asked, glancing pointedly at his belt. “Or because he made me scream louder than your little knife ever could?”
“I’m gonna shut that whore mouth of yours!” he shouted, bringing his belt down against my shoulder. I flinched, the blow landing across my back. It knocked me off balance, and I fell. Sixgun wrapped the belt around my throat and tightened it before I could even blink. I gasped and choked, blood pounding in my temples and in my face as my whole body jerked and twisted with the lack of oxygen.
He squeezed harder, until the edges of my vision began to turn black. I beat my fists against his arms. I was on my back now, Sixgun straddled on top of me as my legs kicked uselessly beneath him and my nails clawed at the unyielding leather around my neck.
This was it. My vision began to fade in and out. My muscles slackened, and the fight drained from me as my eyes fluttered closed of their own accord.
“Not yet, bitch,” Sixgun snarled, and the belt loosened. I arched up, sucking in sharp breaths in sweet relief. My eyes snapped open, and I coughed uncontrollably. I scrambled backwards, rolling onto my stomach and dragging myself inch by inch away from Sixgun as I fought to drink air into my lungs.
His boot slammed into my shoulder, and I cried out. He dragged me by my ankle and yanked me bodily until I was on my back beneath him again. I turned my head so I wouldn’t have to look at him, squeezing my eyes shut tight as his thick fingers brushed my hair away from my face almost tenderly.
“Open your eyes and look at him!” he shouted, yanking my hair until I did as he wanted. Jesse’s blue eyes were aflame, stark and devastating, like the heat of a lightning strike.
“We’ll make him see whose masterpiece you are, won’t we?” he breathed softly against the shell of my ear, as if he were talking to a lover. His fingers drifted down my neck and lower, to my collarbone. Everywhere he touched, I died. Until his exploring fingers found the bottom of my scar and he folded my sleeve up to expose the entirety of the knotted flesh to his hungry gaze.
“So much beautiful pain,” he muttered, salivating. He swallowed, his desire straining against the front of his pants. His trembling fingertips brushed against my scar. He moaned, bringing his face close to the pink lines on my skin, tongue darting out as if he could taste the memory of my pain on my flesh.
“I’m going to do it to every inch of you. Every bit of your pale, perfect skin, knotted and angry. Just like this.” His words were insane, eyes too wide, too focused on the skin in front of him.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Quanah said, her voice a lantern in the darkness of my mind. Sixgun turned to find the double barrel of Jesse’s shotgun wielded by a broad-shouldered man in dirty blue jeans. My eyes widened, noticing twenty well-armed people who’d come to our defense. Sixgun and his men slowly raised their hands in defeat. One of Quanah’s men grabbed Sixgun by the scruff of his neck and shoved him into the corner with the rest of his hired thugs.
My head banged back to the metal floor. Relief coursed through me; a pitiful sound wrenched itself from the back of my throat. I clenched my jaw tight, but it escaped anyway. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. My lips trembled, but I refused to cry. Hot tears tried to sweep me away, but I pressed my hands down harder. I clenched my teeth until I thought my jaw might break. I wouldn’t give him that.
Jesse’s hands were on me the next instant, shocking my body into sudden awareness. It was the distraction I needed to help me ground my emotions and swallow down those poisonous tears. His hands were gentle. He cradled my head, checking for wounds. I blinked, his concerned expression the first thing I could clearly see. He didn’t speak; he didn’t have to. Tonight would stay with both of us always.
Wordlessly he reached down to me, pulling me onto my quaking feet. I leaned against him heavily. He pulled the belt from around my neck and tossed it away. His arms held me up, held me together. I pressed my cheek against his chest, content to hear the steady thump of his heart. Proof that he was alright, that we were both alive. I sighed in relief, sinking into the warmth of Jesse’s arms. He buried his nose in my hair and inhaled deeply.
“What are you?” he whispered tenderly. A gentle reminder that soothed the raw edges of my fear and stilled my trembling hands. I raised my head from his chest, casting him a grateful glance before schooling my features into a mask of cool stoicism.
“I’m a goddamn outlaw,” I said, my voice thin and scratchy. The Kid whimpered from his hiding place. Though I didn’t want to step out of the strength of Jesse’s arms, the urge to confirm The Kid’s safety won out.
“Kid,” I rasped, calling for him as loudly as my ravaged throat could manage. He rushed at me from behind the crates, nearly knocking me over as he flung his arms around me and crushed me in his embrace. He sobbed into my shirt in great, gasping breaths. My fingers ran through his hair until he calmed enough to peer up at me, his face red.
“None of that now,” I whispered against his hair. “I’m alright. We’re all alright.”
Quanah crossed to us and reached out as if to brush my hair away from my face, but I recoiled from the touch. The train moved forward, unsettling me on my already-unsteady feet. Jesse wrapped an arm around my waist to balance me.
“There’s a place for you in Flagstaff, Little Wolf,” she said, her kind eyes making me deeply uncomfortable. “It’ll always be there, if you want it.”
Flagstaff wasn’t where I belonged. As peaceful as it’d been. I couldn’t say that out loud, so I just shook my head, ignoring the disappointment in her expression.
“I can’t ever repay you for what you did tonight,” I managed to croak, but Quanah waved away my concern.
“There’s no need for that. Not after what you did for Beck,” she said, and I nodded as understanding passed between us. Even. We’d call it even. For now.
The train rolled for a few minutes before it slowed again, pulling into Santa Fe. The lights of the city were too bright through the car door compared to the darkness from before. The Kid finally unwrapped himself from around me, looking to Jesse for an indication of what came next. Sixgun’s wild laughter trilled on the cool night air.
“This isn’t over,” he said, grinning tight, eyes flashing towards The Kid. I shoved him closer to Jesse and held a hand out to Quanah impatiently.
“We’re in Santa Fe,” I told her, eyes hard. “Give me back my gun.” She opened her mouth to protest, but my hard glare stilled the words.
“I’m going to tear you apart from the inside out, then stitch you back up again,” Sixgun said as the cool, comforting meta
l of the M9 fell heavy in my hand. “You can run, but I won’t stop.”
“Bonnie—"
Whatever warning Quanah wanted to give me, I had no room for. Revenge pulsed hot in my blood. Crossing to Sixgun, I chambered a bullet with a loud clack, clack. He jutted his chin, and all I could see were his ravenous eyes and greedy hands that’d been all over me. My skin crawled in the places he’d touched me, and I heaved a breath.
“You don’t have the guts,” he said, confident I wouldn’t be able to end his life. I wasn’t as confident. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to watch as the life left his eyes. I wanted to bury him so far down he would never be able to touch me again.
A shot rang clear and high; Sixgun dropped to the floor of the car. He clutched his bloody knee, screaming in anguish, as blood seeped through his fingers and splattered on my shirt. A satisfied smile stretched languidly over my mouth.
“Have fun chasin’ after me on that leg,” I said as loudly as I could manage. I turned my back on him, chin high, ignoring the scandalized expressions from the onlookers in the car. A familiar face stared incredulously from the back corner. The bartender from last night. I hardened my expression and turned from him to face Jesse, ready to leave this place.
This night of horrors had finally come to an end. Quanah moved to Jesse, pulling him down for a kiss on the cheek and a motherly pat on the shoulder.
“Don’t stop listening to your heart,” she told Jesse cryptically. “It hasn’t led you wrong so far.”
“And you,” she said, her head swinging around to me. “You could listen to yours a little more, you know.” I rolled my eyes. The Kid hugged her tight, and I realized I’d be a little sad to leave her behind. I hoisted my pack over my shoulder and Jesse retrieved his shotgun, both of us eager to leave the bleeding madman far behind.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take him to the end of the line,” Quanah said as we disembarked. Jesse reached a hand out to help me down. I didn’t let it go afterwards. Before long, we found ourselves alone again. Just the three of us against whatever was waiting for us next in the darkness.
Right now, with Jesse’s hand in mine and The Kid close at my heels, I felt like we could take on anything.
Chapter Ten - Jesse
Silence settled around us like a heavy fog as we walked from the train station into the main strip of Santa Fe. Bonnie’s hand clutched mine; it was hard to think about anything else. I didn’t know what it meant. That she clutched onto my hand like a lifeline, that she ignored the bartender on the train. Confusion rippled from the small contact. The Kid led Bonnie’s horse on her other side.
I wanted to talk to her, but I couldn’t find the words. Even if I did, I wasn’t sure they would be words of comfort. We could all use a little comfort. After tonight, I didn’t want to imagine the other horrors Bonnie had seen at Sixgun’s hand. I didn’t want to think about that man ever again.
The cussing and fighting up the street in Santa Fe was a welcome change to the silence. Some of the tension relaxed in my shoulders. When did rowdy towns become normal for me? Either way, I was glad to be away from the train.
I sidestepped a man lying drunk in the street, guiding Bonnie around him with our joined hands. Harry paused, staring at the man with wide eyes. I motioned my head to keep him moving. Without a word, he fell in line, still leading Bonnie’s horse.
We looked rough; I knew that before the onlookers stared at us. I could still feel the barrel of that man’s gun against my head. Blood crusted at the corner of my mouth. All that mattered was that we were alive.
A fight broke out in the street, making the horses whinny. My horse tossed his head. I reached up to comfort him, dropping Bonnie’s hand. I grabbed his bridle and whispered hushed words to calm him. Just one night here and we would move on.
“Home, sweet home,” Bonnie said. The words startled me after not hearing her voice for so long. We walked the horses toward one of the buildings. I focused on tying mine to a post by a watering trough; The Kid followed my motions.
“This looks like the least rowdy place,” Bonnie said.
Up the street, men laughed and fought. Women sauntered in front of the buildings. The one we stopped at wasn’t quiet, but it would do.
“Yeah. Right,” I said, shifting uncomfortably as I checked the knot on my horse’s lead. I wanted more than anything to give Bonnie comfort, peace, but I wasn’t the person for that. That would imply some sort of bond between us. Something more than just guiding us through the desert. Something I didn’t think she would accept.
Bonnie led the way into the wooden building. Inside, over a dozen men drank, played cards, or danced. Two women sat in a corner, one playing a guitar and the other a fiddle. A lively tune filled the air, every other note punctuated by the stomps of the dancers.
As Bonnie marched purposefully toward the bar, I took in the sight of the woman behind it. Her black hair was shaved on the sides, and she had facial piercings. She saw Bonnie, and a lascivious smile crossed her features. She tightened her black suspenders, pulling the front of her shirt to show her cleavage.
“Hey, got any vacancy?” Bonnie asked. The woman plucked a toothpick from her mouth and leaned forward on the bar.
“Yeah, you can stay in my room, sugar,” she said.
Jealousy blazed once more, reminding me of the last bartender, of the things I’d seen, of the fact that I hadn’t been the one doing them to her. Bonnie, however, was unfazed by the woman’s suggestion.
“Look, I just need one for the night. Do you have any available or not?” Bonnie asked, exasperated. The edge to her voice brought back that urge to protect her. I balled my hands into fists.
“We got one,” the woman said. “How ya wanna pay? I got a few ideas if you don’t have any money.” She flashed another lascivious smile at Bonnie. I’d had enough. I fished out more than enough money for the room and slammed it down on the bar. She turned toward me, blinking, as though she hadn’t noticed me.
“The room, please,” I said through clenched teeth. We’d been through enough today.
The bartender picked up a key from the wall behind her, then tossed it onto the counter. It bounced off of the polished wooden surface and hit the floor. Bonnie moved to reach for it, but I stuck out my arm, stopping her. I grabbed the key, narrowing my eyes in warning, trying my damndest not to think about the last bartender that made a move on Bonnie.
“Jackass,” the woman muttered as we turned to walk away. My shoulders tensed. Pop always said you shouldn’t hit a woman, but tonight I wanted to make an exception.
“C’mon, let’s get some rest,” Bonnie said, ignoring the bartender’s smug grin. She gripped my arm, warning in her blue eyes. She was right; a fight would do me no good.
By the time we shuffled upstairs and into our room, which thankfully had two beds, The Kid was already stripping his clothes off. I stole a glance at Bonnie, vague regret flashing through me at the thought of sleeping alone tonight. I rifled through the pack, sorting the food Quanah gave us. There was plenty of dried meat, hard cheese, sunflower seeds, and apples. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had apples. I tossed one to Harry and offered one to Bonnie, but she declined.
She stripped out of the bloodstained shirt; I turned my back to give her some semblance of privacy while she changed into sleep clothes. When she was finished, I lifted my eyebrows at her, pointedly staring at the food. She needed to eat something. Bonnie rifled through my pack. She ripped a piece of bread from the larger loaf and shoved it into her mouth. She arched an eyebrow with enough attitude that I could almost hear her say there, you happy? Nodding, I gave her a grim smile.
Through his crunching, Harry asked Bonnie questions about Sixgun. Lines creased across her forehead as Bonnie squinted, exhaustion written in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped as she moved to the wash basin on the nightstand. From the corner of my eye, I watched as she dipped a rag into the water. She walked over, handing it to me before climbing into one of the beds. My brother joined
her a moment later.
“What’s this for?” I asked her.
“You’ve got blood on your mouth,” she said, settling into the blankets.
Right. I’d forgotten. I wiped my face, wishing I could as easily erase the memory of Bonnie’s terrified eyes as Sixgun forced her to look at me.
“What does your scar say?” my brother asked.
“Get some sleep,” I said. He finished the apple and tossed the core at me, grinning.
Within minutes, the two of them settled in. I extinguished the oil lamp on the table, then sat down with my back to them. My shoulders slumped as I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees. I ran a hand across my face, knowing the exhaustion would take me the moment I put my head down.
That it had only been this morning when Bonnie slapped me seemed insane. I felt like I’d lived a lifetime since then. While I was emotionally drained, I didn’t think I could rest. I needed to do something physical, something to combat that helplessness welling deep inside me. It went all of the way back to Montana, when I couldn’t help my parents. I’d barely managed to keep Harry safe. If I couldn’t protect them, what good was I? If Bonnie or The Kid had been killed on the train, I wouldn’t have survived. I’d already put us at risk trying to protect her.
It was the right thing to do, and yet, it was useless. I was useless.
It didn’t take long for Harry’s soft snores to fill the room. I glanced toward the other bed, finding Bonnie’s eyes closed as though she were asleep. I tugged my shirt off, realizing that as much as I wanted to find a distraction, I wouldn’t leave them. Not tonight. Not like I had on the train. I untied my boots, then set them aside and placed my shirt on top. Finally, I lay back on the mattress. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the one at Quanah’s home.
Then again, I’d held Bonnie all night. There wasn’t anything as comfortable as that.
That thought scared me. She wasn’t mine. She didn’t want me. Not like I wanted her. The feeling of her body against mine haunted me as I fell asleep.
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