Guns & Smoke

by Lauren Sevier

  The world was burning. Smoke surrounded me. It filled my lungs, choking me. I stumbled forward, blind, only the blaze ahead guiding my path.

  “Mom? Pop!” I yelled. I pulled my shirt up to cover my mouth and nose as the flames grew closer.

  “Jesse?” Mom’s panicked voice echoed. “Jesse! You have to leave! You have to leave now!”

  “Mom?” I wheeled around, but she wasn’t there.

  “You have to protect him, Jesse!”

  “I am,” I said. The words felt false on my tongue. Had I really protected my brother since that night? Since Vegas, all I’d done was put him in danger. Fire licked across my skin. I hissed and recoiled, stumbling over something. My ankle crunched beneath me as I landed hard on the charred ground.

  When I turned to see what I’d tripped over, I found Harry, lying perfectly still, his eyes wide open. They were dim and unseeing, no curiosity lit within.

  He was dead.

  “Farm boy.” I picked up my head, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. Just beyond the flames, Bonnie came into view. Like the devil standing in the flames of hell.

  “Bonnie! Help me!” But she just stood there.

  “I can’t, Jesse,” she said. A loud crack came from above. Flames rained down, singeing my clothes and skin. I looked to Bonnie, but she turned her back.

  “Where are you going?” I shouted over the roaring flames. She turned to me again, sorrow in those blue eyes of hers.

  “I was always going to leave, Jesse. You know that,” she said sadly. Her eyes were full of regret.

  Wood groaned as she disappeared. I looked up, watching as a wooden beam split apart and came crashing down.

  Darkness greeted me when I snapped awake. Where was I? I blinked rapidly, then sat up, looking for Harry. My eyes adjusted to the dim light. Two figures curled together in the other bed. Harry. Bonnie.

  Bonnie.

  I pressed my palms into my eyes until they hurt.

  Harry was safe, I’d been dreaming, but what did it mean? I couldn’t forget how she’d looked at me before disappearing. That was what Bonnie was always going to do. Leave.

  My chest tightened, forcing me to rasp in short breaths. I rolled out of bed, struggling to get to my feet and across the room. I shoved open the window and stuck my head out, gasping in the night air. Cold sweat covered my skin. My hands shook as I ran them over my face.

  It was just a dream.

  When my breathing finally slowed, I crossed to the basin of water. I splashed tepid water on my face, letting the droplets fall down my neck and onto my undershirt. I crossed back to the window and sat on the sill, staring out at the busy street.

  The cool desert air filtered into the window. While my panic subsided for the moment, my hands still shook, and a leaden weight settled in my throat.

  Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

  The words echoed over and over. I thought back to Flagstaff, when she held the gun to her head and said she wouldn’t go back. When it came to choosing between her safety and ours on the train, though, she brokered a deal to protect us. She was willing to give herself up so we could escape. That she was willing to go back to Jones meant more to me than even I knew. It was no small thing. I’d never find a way to thank her.

  The bed creaked from the other side of the room, and footsteps padded toward me. It wasn’t my brother; he had heavier feet. She sat beside me on the windowsill.

  “It’s our last night together,” Bonnie said softly.

  Her skin glowed in the orange streetlight. She looked up with wide eyes. We knew that there was an end date to this little agreement. I just wasn’t ready for it.

  “Yeah,” I said, turning back to the window. “How’s your throat?”

  “I’ll survive. I always do,” she said, fumbling with something in her hands. When I looked over at her, she opened her palm. She held a beautiful glass bead, covered in intricate carvings. It was incredibly dark. I took it from her, holding it up to the light. It was more blue than black, like her eyes. “Something to remember me, or trade, if you’re ever in a pinch.”

  Rolling the bead between my fingers, I sighed. How had this come up so quickly? The long days in the desert made our tenuous agreement feel like it would stretch forever, though it hadn’t been that long. It was strange that I knew her so well, and yet she was still a mystery to me. There were so many things that I wanted to know, but couldn’t find the words to ask.

  “I don’t want what happened on the train to be the last thing you remember about me,” Bonnie said, breaking the growing silence between us.

  “I didn’t think you cared what I thought,” I said, averting my eyes back to the bead in my hand. I lifted it and gave her a nod. “Thank you.”

  “I recognized the guilt in your eyes when The Kid mentioned your parents,” Bonnie said, gazing out at the street. I slipped the bead into my pocket to avoid looking at her. “What happened to them?”

  She missed nothing. I tried to keep that guilt to myself; it was my burden to bear, my bad news. I didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with it, least of all The Kid. I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. Willing the sadness lying heavy like a stone in my chest to go away.

  We sat together, watching as a couple kissed in the street. Regret flashed through me. I should have kissed Bonnie before we left Flagstaff.

  “It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it,” she said. “I didn’t talk for a long time after my mom died. Some things there aren’t words for. But, if you feel like talkin’, I promise, I’ll listen.” She reached over, grabbing my hand. A comforting warmth spread up from my fingertips at the contact. I stared at our joined hands, wondering when holding her hand had become such a natural thing for me.

  “You’re not easy,” Bonnie said, breaking the lumbering silence. I looked at her. “You wanted to know why I robbed you in Vegas. I didn’t rob you because I thought that it would be easy. Or fun,” she added, with a shaky laugh. She let out a sharp breath, pulling her hand out of mine so she could run both of hers through her dark hair. “Most people, they’re easy to figure out. With a glance I know exactly what they want and how to exploit it. But you—I couldn’t tell what you wanted, and I wanted to prove to myself that I was up for the challenge of finding out.” A smile lit up her features.

  “And I thought it would be fun,” Bonnie said with a crooked grin. “So, that’s why I robbed you. You’re different than I thought you would be.”

  “I wanted to be. Different,” I said with a nod. “I didn’t like the country life. I was better than the farm. I did the work, but I wanted out. Because I wasn’t like them.” A wave of devastation crashed over me. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, willing it down. My eyes heated, filling to the brim with tears. I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Bonnie.

  As if sensing it, she lifted her small hand to cradle my cheek. I covered it with my own. Tears spilled over. Bonnie swiped them away with a gentle caress of her thumb. In her eyes, I found more empathy than I’d ever expected. Especially after the hateful glare she’d given me this morning.

  Bonnie squeezed my hand. I watched her gaze lower to our joined fingers. Then I took a steely breath.

  “I’d give anything to see them again. Mom. Pop... Clara,” I said, the words shaky.

  “What happened to her?” Bonnie asked, muted curiosity in her eyes.

  “Same thing that happened to my parents. Fire.” My throat constricted at the memory of the church in flames. I looked at the lump in the bed that was my brother. “The Kid thinks they’re still out there. I didn’t have the heart to tell him they burned alive. I buried them. I just... I don’t understand why someone would attack us. They were farmers. Clara’s father was a preacher. There was nothing special about any of us.”

  “Well, you were special enough to rob, farm boy,” Bonnie said with a small grin.

  Gunfire popped up the street. People shouted incoherent words. Then balls of light flew into the
sky, exploding in bursts of brilliant reds, whites, and blues. Fireworks. I’d never seen them before, but Pop had told me stories about them. He said he got burned once because a fuse burned up too quick. I let out a shaky breath.

  When I looked at Bonnie’s face, she seemed distant. She looked at me, but I recognized the glaze in her eyes, the one indicating that someone was stuck in the past. The hard lines of her face disappeared, replaced by the soft slopes that I recognized. It was the first time I’d allowed myself to openly stare at her while she was awake, without fear or judgement.

  I’d been wrong about her. I knew that now. I let her wound my pride in Vegas, but I could see it. She was strong. She was smart. She was beautiful. I would hate to see her go.

  “What happened to yours?” I asked. Bonnie’s attention focused on me, but her expression was difficult to read. She pushed off of the windowsill and walked across the room. When she came back, she held a hair comb adorned with opalescent pearls and dark blue stones. That must have been what I saw sticking out of her bag when we played I Spy. I took it from her, turning the elegant piece over. The comb was beautifully crafted. Shiny crystals between the other stones sparkled beneath the light filtering into the window.

  Bonnie settled down beside me, sitting closer than she’d been before. She leaned into my shoulder.

  “I was younger than The Kid when I asked her for this. I annoyed her for hours, begging her to play with my hair,” she said, her expression glazed over in memory. A frown crossed her face. “She clipped my hair back, then we heard men shoutin’ outside. The windows broke, and she told me to hide underneath the bed and be quiet.

  “I saw four pairs of boots. She screamed. Next thing I knew, she was on the ground and they were ripping her dress...” Bonnie shuddered, and her words faded into silence. I wrapped an arm around her, tucking her beside me, in case it offered her some comfort. I couldn’t imagine witnessing something like that now, much less when I was younger than my brother.

  “When they were done, they put the barrel of a pistol to her temple. It was the first time I ever heard a gunshot,” she said, wringing the comb between her hands. “Even though I promised to be quiet, I screamed. They dragged me from under the bed and took me away. I never had a dad. At least, not one I remember.”

  When Bonnie looked at me, she said, “I try to remember her now, but things have faded. I can’t remember the way her laugh sounded or the way she smelled. But I remember her eyes; she had my eyes.”

  “They’re beautiful eyes,” I said, smiling gently. You’re beautiful, I wanted to say, but the words remained, twisted on the tip of my tongue. She didn’t want me. Not like that, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to place that on her shoulders. It wasn’t her fault that I had developed feelings for her.

  Bonnie still looked at me, her eyes clouded as I set the comb on the windowsill beside me. She reached to cup my cheek, pressing her weight against me slowly. What was she doing? Her breath was soft on my lips as she brushed her nose against mine. My arm around her tensed. Her eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes feathering against my skin.

  It was hard. It was so hard to be this close to her and not tell her how I felt.

  “You should get some sleep,” I said, pulling away. I put my hands on her arms to steady her, then stood. I could have taken advantage of the situation, but I wouldn’t. It was our last night together. Even if things had changed since Vegas, kissing her now would only hurt me later.

  One night with her wouldn’t be enough. I’d rather never know what being with her was like than watch her ride away knowing I could never have her again.

  “You, too,” she said, her voice soft.

  I brushed her dark hair behind her ear and pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. At least we would leave things on amicable terms tomorrow. It was the best I could hope for.

  Neither of us moved for a long time. I didn’t want to go back to my nightmares, and I could tell she didn’t either. Wordlessly, we moved together to my bed. Bonnie climbed in first. She didn’t look at me, and I didn’t know that I would have said anything if she did. I slid beneath the sheets behind her, not caring that there wasn’t distance between us. She scooted back against my chest. I wrapped an arm around her, burying my face in her hair. I relaxed into the embrace, her scent snaring my senses and bringing me as close to home as I would ever be.

  Bonnie laced her fingers through mine, holding me as though she were afraid of letting me go.

  Chapter Eleven - Bonnie

  Jesse was beautiful when he slept. I didn’t know a man could even be beautiful, but Jesse was. He had impossibly long, dark eyelashes I hadn’t noticed until they fanned against his cheek. His mouth, as sculpted as the rest of him, was swollen from sleep. It made him look painfully kissable. I ached to run my fingertips over his stubbled jawline. I’d been lying there for too long, afraid to wake him, just watching him breathe.

  He didn’t kiss me last night.

  I couldn’t understand it. Today was our last day together, so we could’ve spent last night tangling the sheets around us. I’d never made the first move before, unless it was a con. Being rejected by Jesse had never crossed my mind. Now, I had been. Twice.

  His oppressive heat surrounded me. As he stirred into wakefulness, I wriggled my hips against him. A not-so-innocent gesture he could write off as morning stretching. Bleary, blue eyes cracked open to focus on my face. His hand gripped my waist, and I shivered beneath his welcome touch. He ran a hand down my side. I arched my back in another innocuous stretch and pressed my breasts against the hard planes of his chest in encouragement. His eyes widened, and he muttered a soft “sorry.” His hands fell away from my body and left me wanting more.

  Then he turned his back.

  I watched as he shoved himself to sit on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair vigorously. Nothing. He threw his shirt on and began to lace his boots. I buried my face in the pillow that still smelled like him and fought the urge to scream into it.

  Since last night, all I’d been able to do was imagine his mouth hot on mine. The feel of his hard hands on my hips. I clenched my thighs together, hoping the pressure would ease the warmth flooding between them. Without raising my head, I heard Jesse waking The Kid and helping him to dress for the morning.

  “C’mon, let’s let Bonnie get dressed,” he said in his deep canyon timbre.

  “Don’t take too long,” he called softly.

  I grunted into the pillow until the door snapped shut with a snick. As soon as he was gone, I threw the offending pillow at the door and fell back onto the mattress with a frustrated huff. The warmth from before turned into a mind-numbing heat settling into my blood.

  I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of my sleep pants and closed my eyes. I’d touched myself like this the last time I woke up after sleeping in Jesse’s arms. Then, it’d been a quick way to dismiss him from my mind. Now, much like on the train, I recalled memories of Jesse in startling clarity as fuel for my passion.

  That day in the alleyway, the night by the campfire, the way he moved our bodies together as we danced in Flagstaff...

  I bit my lip so hard I could have drawn blood. My skin burned, and a restlessness raged out of control inside me. I opened my eyes to catch sight of my mother’s hair comb on the windowsill. Suddenly I couldn’t feel the rising tension anymore. The heat still raged, driving me to insanity, but not delivering the swell of pleasure.

  His eyes in the darkness, flooding with tears. His hand on mine as my heart broke open for him. The way he’d looked at me when Sixgun forced my eyes open. As if he would burn the world down to keep me safe...

  This wasn’t working.

  Even my imagination was a pale facsimile of Jesse. Giving up, I threw the covers off and pulled open my pack, searching for something clean and not bloodstained. A smile crossed my face as I changed, slipping quickly into my shorts and the tightest shirt I owned, cut low enough to catch Jesse’s attention for sure.

/>   If I was going to burn, so would he.

  In moments, I was packed and ready, taking the steps two at a time. Jesse glanced up from tying his pack to his horse’s saddle, and something in his expression shifted. A second later, the flash of shock and desire was hidden behind a careful mask of cool indifference.

  Not even the shorts?

  I crossed to my mustang, tying my pack down, albeit a bit too forcefully. The heat pulsed within me now, making me uncomfortable and flushed.

  “Can I ride with you, Bonnie?” The Kid asked. I blew the hair out of my face in frustration and waved him forward.

  “Sure, Kid,” I said, helping him into the stirrup so he could swing his leg over before climbing on after him.

  “We still have to name your horse,” he said, very seriously. I smiled, the edge of my bad mood dulling. Clicking my tongue, I started off on the trail out of town, Jesse trotting along beside me silently. The morning was quiet and still, as if the whole world was waiting for something to happen. Of course, after only ten minutes, The Kid’s voice cut through the relative peace.

  “Bonnie?” he asked. “Can’t you stay with me and Jesse?” His words were small, and something painful twisted deep in my chest as I squeezed my arms around him a little tighter. I shook my head softly, watching his shoulders slump as he let out a long-resigned sigh.

  “Rule number five: never overstay your welcome,” I said, but The Kid didn’t take the bait. “Besides, I have worse people than Sixgun after me. I need to disappear if I have any chance of outrunning them.”

  “Worse than Sixgun?” he asked, incredulous. I laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately.

  “You know who’s worse than Sixgun?” I asked, watching as his insatiable curiosity blazed to life again.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Crater beasts. Have I told you about the panther scorpions yet?” I asked. He flicked an uninterested wrist in my general direction.

  “Quanah already told me about them,” he said, and I feigned hurt.