He stood there in the darkness, holding me together while I fell apart.
Chapter Eighteen - Jesse
An hour passed. Every sound in the darkness, from the crackle of the fire to the shuffling of some distant creature in the desert, sent panic straight to my heart. Each time, I reached for Bonnie’s M9, secured in the waist of my jeans. I’d picked it up in the aftermath of the attack. I’d managed to get The Kid settled down in the tent, his fingers white-knuckling the handle of his sheathed knife. Then there was Bonnie, sitting on our messy bedding in front of the fire, staring blankly into the flames.
“Here,” I said in a quiet voice, holding out one of my extra shirts for her. She didn’t move, didn’t even look at me.
With gentle hands, I reached for the hem of her ruined shirt, slowly sliding the fabric over her soft skin. Skin that I’d only just been allowed to explore freely. My eyes roved across her chest, checking for injuries. How much time passed since the two of us were getting lost in one another beneath the stars?
I eased my shirt over her shoulders. My hands shook as I buttoned it up the front. When I reached the top button, she gripped my fingers tight. I looked up at her from where I knelt, trying to read her mind.
“I thought they killed you,” she whispered. Her voice was harsh against the silence.
“They didn’t,” I said, lifting my hands to hold her face. I stared into those frightened blue eyes, reassuring her with my own that I was okay. I was worried about her. Since meeting Bonnie, I’d never seen her strength waver. She was constant; I could always count on that. Looking at her now, I didn’t see any of that strength. I saw a terrified young woman who’d been beaten and nearly raped. I didn’t regret killing either of them one bit.
There was a cut on her cheek. I pressed my lips to her forehead, promising quietly that I would return. I moved silently through the camp, gathering her flask, a canteen, and her torn shirt. When I made it back, I knelt in the same place. I ripped strips from her ruined shirt, then soaked one with alcohol.
“Look up,” I said, finally turning to her. I tipped her chin toward the firelight to give myself a better view. “It’s gonna sting.”
Bonnie took in a sharp breath as I dabbed the cut on her cheek.
What would have happened if I hadn’t killed him? Would they have taken us all? Suddenly, I thought of the warning from the other day when we filled our canteens at that well.
Best be careful; there’s slavers out in these parts.
Only I hadn’t worried about slavers. All I worried about was getting my hands on Bonnie. I’d already had to wait all day after she told me she wanted to make an exception for me.
I was angry at myself, I realized. Because I wanted to explore Bonnie’s body, we were nearly captured, killed, or worse. I lowered my gaze, unable to look at her for the shame in my chest. This was my fault.
“It doesn’t need stitches,” I remarked, grabbing another strip. I poured water on it, then turned to her hand. Beneath the blood on her nails, her porcelain skin was unharmed. With her wounds cleaned, I stood to ready the camp so we could leave at first light.
Bonnie reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Jesse,” she whispered, her grip almost painful.
“Yeah?” I asked, a pang in my chest at the panic in her eyes.
“If you hadn’t been there, he would’ve—” She stopped, choking the words back. I knelt in front of her once more, dropping the supplies to the ground. I took her head in my hands and leaned close.
“But I was there,” I whispered, so close I could feel her short breaths on my lips. “Okay? We can’t think about the what-ifs. I was there. We stopped them.”
“But The Kid—” Bonnie said, her voice cracking on his name.
“Bon—” Tears sprang up in my eyes at the emotion in her voice. “I know,” I said, trying to push back the fear in my own chest. “I know.”
I wanted to ease that terror I saw in her eyes, could feel rolling off of my shoulders. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to hers. I cupped her cheek with my hand, gentle, soft. Unlike the way I’d touched her earlier, before the attack. Her breath was hot on my skin as I broke away from the kiss. She twitched toward me, almost as though she wanted to kiss me again. I pulled back, staring into those fearful eyes.
I knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to get me to distract her.
I wasn’t up for the task. Not now.
“We’re okay,” I whispered, crushing her against my chest.
We settled onto the bedding, and I held her tight for what felt like hours, until she managed to doze into a light sleep. I could tell by the short breaths she took. I wouldn’t sleep.
I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to sleep again.
Just as the eastern horizon began to lighten, whimpering caught my attention. This time it wasn’t her. The sound came from the tent. I disentangled from Bonnie, careful not to wake her. Then I took broad steps toward the tent opening. The Kid thrashed in his sleep. I climbed inside and shook his shoulder.
“Kid,” I said.
Harry’s eyes, a mirror of my own, filled with terror. He blinked a couple more times before that fear faded and he realized it was just me.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
The Kid slammed against my chest, his arms wrapping tight around me. He’d seen more in these past months than I wanted him to see in a lifetime. I crushed him to me, letting him lean on me for as long as he needed.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” I said.
“Where were you?” The Kid asked against my chest, his voice small and accusatory. I pulled back from him, brow furrowed.
“What?” I asked.
“When they took me. Where were you?” He sniffed and wiped at his runny nose. My stomach flipped. After all this time, I didn’t think he needed me. He depended more on Bonnie; she was always the one he ran to. I’d never realized that maybe he depended on my solid presence just as much as hers.
“I’m sorry, Kid. One of the guys had a gun on me. I came as soon as I could,” I said. The man’s dead eyes staring into the starlit sky flashed through my mind.
“How did that happen?” The Kid asked, eyes horrified. I couldn’t explain why I’d been distracted. “You were kissing Bonnie again, weren’t you?”
“Harry—”
“No! You left me alone. Again!“ he shouted, then exited the tent, flap closing behind him and leaving me speechless.
I took a minute. Just one, to sit there, the terror and near-tragedy washing over me. I bit my bloodied hand to hold back the unnatural scream threatening to rip out of my throat. I rocked back and forth.
My brother hated me. Because I’d allowed myself to get distracted.
Honestly, I hated myself too.
When I climbed from the tent, The Kid sat beside Bonnie, who was awake and only halfway listening to him. Her arm was around Harry’s shoulders. She looked up at me, and I frowned. I went about packing up camp, trying to keep myself busy while my brother refused to acknowledge me. I poured water from a canteen to clean the blood from my hands.
“What does your scar say?” The Kid asked as I began deconstructing the tent. I looked toward them.
“Huh?” Bonnie asked.
“Your scar,” The Kid said, pointing to the gnarled, pink skin of her arm, barely visible above her rolled-up sleeve. “It looks like it spells something.”
I knew the answer to The Kid’s question. I’d figured it out what felt like forever ago. By the way her features screwed up, I knew her scar was the last thing she wanted to talk about.
“Time to go. Kid, can you roll up those bedrolls?” I asked, turning from them. I secured the tent in place on Eagle’s pack, then gathered up the small items. I kicked dirt over the fire, watching the flames die, smoke curling on the gentle morning breeze.
By the time the sun appeared over the eastern horizon, we were back in the saddle. My brother opted to ride with Bonnie, to no one’s surprise. We were barely on the trail
for five minutes when I tugged on No Name’s reins.
A wagon rested in the middle of the path ahead of us. The same one that man pulled The Kid toward last night.
I climbed down from my horse, shotgun at the ready. I scanned the area in case there was anyone else waiting for unsuspecting victims. As my sight settled on the wagon, I realized it wasn’t empty. The thing itself was raggedy, with patched wheels and different-colored boards. One thing was for certain: the metal cage was fully intact. Through the open door of the cage, I spied someone with blonde hair, fast asleep in a corner.
“Is it a child?” Bonnie asked, her voice strained. I lowered my shotgun, my hands still in place in case the person posed a threat.
Then a quiet, fearful voice came from within the wagon. “Jesse?”
Familiar eyes flashed at me from beneath a mess of blonde hair. But the church... the padlock. No one could have survived. I took in breath after ragged breath. My knees buckled as she crawled on clumsy hands and knees. My old world and my new one suddenly crashed together in a violent whirlwind of flames and smoke. How was she here? My shotgun hit the ground with a muffled thunk as the woman bolted out of the cage and ran straight at me. I unconsciously wrapped my arms around her as she whimpered into the front of my shirt.
“It’s okay,” I said. Bonnie’s stare burned against my skin.
“Clara?” The Kid asked, incredulous.
Clara Higgins. The woman I’d been meant to marry, before everything changed. She didn’t die in Montana. She was here, somehow, in the back of a slaver’s wagon. She’d been taken as a slave. Not burned alive. She shook against me. I finally looked at Bonnie. Words failed me. I couldn’t handle much more this morning.
When Clara finally pulled back, I took in her features. There was a bruise beneath her right eye, a cut on her chin. Fresh anger burned within me as I tried not to imagine what those men had done to her. Clara’s eyes widened as she took me in, her tan skin slightly paled.
Bonnie cleared her throat. “Let’s head back to Lamesa. I think she could do with a shower and some rest.”
Then she turned her back on me before I could speak. While nothing had changed about the way I felt for Bonnie, the appearance of Clara could change everything. We both knew that. Bonnie headed back to the horses.
“We should take the wagon,” I said, noticing a small pistol on the seat. I picked it up and tucked it into my waistband. “It could be useful. When we get back to Lamesa, we can find someone to break the bars.” We needed to focus on getting back to Lamesa. I watched Bonnie mount her horse. Clara sniffled at my side.
I couldn’t think about the look Bonnie’d given me, or how Clara clutched my arm as I helped her into the wagon behind me. Bonnie took No Name, and The Kid climbed on Eagle, letting out a happy shout at getting to ride by himself for the first time.
Once we set out, Clara spoke. “I thought you were dead,” she said. I thought they killed you. The echo of Bonnie’s haunted voice as we sat beside the fire earlier sent a shiver down my spine.
“Strangers burned down the farm. We barely got out alive,” I said. A leaden lump formed in my throat as I thought about that night. “I thought you were dead, too. The church. Your house. Everything was on fire. They chained the door.”
“They took me,” she said, her voice haunted. When I looked at her, her eyes were clouded. I recognized that look. I’d looked that way for weeks after we left Montana. Sympathy flared bright in my chest. Would it have been better if she’d died instead?
“Do you know anything about the people that took you?” I asked. Maybe Clara could give me answers to the questions I’d had in the months since my parents had died.
“No.”
She didn’t offer anything else.
We rode in silence, setting a quick pace in the hopes of reaching Lamesa before nightfall. I’d catch myself watching Bonnie as she steered ahead of us. She knew Clara and I were engaged. I’d told her as much on the train. The fire had freed me from that obligation. Even though I tried to catch her eye, Bonnie never looked back while we rode. Uncertainty settled in my gut, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth.
I drove the wagon in silence, the rising sun at our backs. I couldn’t speak; I could barely breathe.
All I could think about was how Bonnie had become pliant beneath me by the fire last night. How her soft body fit perfectly under mine. How she’d looked at me as I brought her to the edge and took her over it. She was what I wanted, but was she what I needed?
From the beginning, I’d compared Bonnie to Clara, how different they were. For the two of them to occupy the same space made my head spin. I couldn’t quite reconcile the confliction in my chest.
Finding Clara changed nothing about my feelings for the dark-haired thief. But it might have changed everything for Bonnie.
Chapter Nineteen - Bonnie
My name is Bonnie. I’m a fugitive on the run from a man named Jones. I was attacked last night, but I escaped. Jesse found his fiancée alive—
No. Fuck. I kept my eyes trained forward and started again.
My name is Bonnie. I’m a fugitive on the run from a man named Jones. I was attacked last night—
It took physical effort to push away the memories. A bright smile, too wide in the darkness. Hard hands pulling down my jeans. Gunshots piercing the night. Fragments of terror lingering in the recesses of my mind, preying on the fear I tried desperately to banish. I gripped the reins so tight it hurt, attempting to stop the tremors in my hands. I could still feel the unwanted touches on my skin, like a phantom, heightening my revulsion. I bit my bottom lip, hard. The pain reminded me I wasn’t back there. I was here, in the saddle, with the sun beating down.
I ached to glance at Jesse, to take a better look at the woman who’d appeared out of nowhere, as if straight out of the morning mist. A beautiful blonde mirage of feminine fragility. Unkind thoughts warred with empathy; after all, we’d both been attacked by those men. She was probably struggling as much as me, if not more. It wasn’t her fault I'd broken all of my rules for Jesse.
It wasn’t her fault I’d fallen in love with him.
My name is Bonnie. I’m a monster.
I fell in love with him and it almost got us killed. It was made alarmingly clear last night that my feelings for Jesse were destructive and I needed to forget them. Every time we got close to each other, danger followed. Sixgun. Crater beasts. Slavers. I keep thinking by staying with them I was somehow keeping them safe, somehow helping them. The truth clanged through me like a discordant tone: if it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place.
We stopped for lunch earlier than I thought we would, but I wasn’t feeling the passage of time normally either. It could’ve been hours later than it felt. Everything was distorted, as if I were seeing it from a great distance or looking up on a misshapen world from the bottom of that lake. I stayed apart, shaking my head when rations were passed my way. I couldn’t eat. I could barely breathe. Jesse tried to catch my eyes, but I wouldn’t compromise today.
Instead, I busied myself with repacking one of the saddlebags. A hard rectangular object caught my attention. I’d almost forgotten. Pulling out the scuffed harmonica, I made my way over to The Kid, who glowered into his lunch, and handed it over to him unceremoniously.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I forgot to give it to you. Just somethin’ I picked up,” I said, watching as his eyes brightened with the fervor of his insatiable curiosity. Something dark eased inside of me, seeing the familiarity in his expression. Last night hadn’t broken his spirit, at least.
“You really got this just for me?” he asked, looking at me expectantly. I just nodded, the words stuck fast inside my chest. Clearing my throat unattractively, I schooled my face into careful indifference as The Kid blew into the harmonica.
“Why don’t you go show Jesse?” I asked, and The Kid’s face fell.
“I don’t want to,” he said, staring down a
t the harmonica.
“Why not?” I asked.
“He wasn’t there when I needed him,” he said. I pulled his chin up until he stared straight into my eyes.
“Don’t ever say that again,” I said, my voice firm enough that it captured his attention. “What’s rule number three?”
It took him a moment to remember but he squared his shoulders and held his eyes steady in confidence. “Keep your word. Outlaws may steal, lie, or cheat, but when we make a promise, we keep it,” he recited, and I offered him a small smile in response.
“I promised you nothing bad would happen. Jesse knew that, and he trusted me to keep you safe,” I told him.
“But—"
“No. No buts. Rule number seven: no one gets left behind. We never would have let them take you. Jesse fought off two of those men so I could get to you. You’re lucky to have him,” I said, holding his gaze until he nodded. I ruffled his hair affectionately. “Now, go make up with your brother.”
He stood then, bounding over to Jesse, blowing off pitch notes and offering a goofy grin. My eyes lingered too long, and Jesse caught them across the space. His eyes softened in gratitude. I tipped my head down, turned away, and repacked Eagle’s saddlebag so that we could leave. It was the least I could do, to try to fix the damage I’d caused.
The afternoon ride was less tense, the deafening silence from before broken by The Kid’s bad harmonica playing and normal chatter. It almost felt like any other ride through the desert with them. Except that occasionally Clara’s too-sweet voice would answer The Kid’s questions and remind me she was here. Jesse’s fiancée. The woman he was going to marry.
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