FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Some notes, I think, before we begin: I am well aware that this story is not entirely historically accurate. I did a lot of research for certain aspects of the culture, but let's be honest, sometimes you've just got to give the Victorian era a hearty fuck you. With that being said, I'd love to know what you guys think about the history, the characters, and the western culture in general, and will happily banter back and forth on FP's nifty little messaging system and answer any question that you might have. Helpful criticism is always appreciated.
Also, for those who are into this kind of stuff, the title and much of the inspiration for the story are drawn from 1) every western ever (who's excited about 3:10 to Yuma? I am!), 2) Bob Dylan's song "The Jack of Hearts," and 3) Joan Baez's version of the song "Diamonds and Rust."
Without further ado...
Diamonds and Dust
It had occurred to her, as she traveled the dusty road south, that she was in over her head. Virginia was not a crack shot; she barely knew how to hold the gun holstered on her hip, let alone actually hit something with it. She kept it with her more for looks than anything else, hoping that any would-be bandits would be persuaded by the smooth leather and glint of steel that she was not worth the risk. But she knew the men who were following her would not be so persuaded, and if it weren’t for what she knew, they would have killed her days ago. As things stood now, they were bound to be awfully pissed at her. She’d managed to slip a few days ahead of them, thanks to the weather, good timing, and a whole lot of luck, but they would be on her trail again before long. They were good; she could recognize that.
The town that had been looming on the horizon about an hour ago was steadily approaching, and she choked back a sob of relief. Virginia was exhausted, in both mind and body, and scared nearly senseless. Only in her wildest dreams would she have imagined herself out in the dry, arid desert, riding alone. She’d always been something of a city girl, and these open expanses of land were vastly different to the bustling, crowded avenues she was used to. Despite her lovely sheltered life spent inside the parlor of the boarding school she’d been sent to, Virginia had always known the country was more than a quaint place just outside of town. She’d been there, she could attest to that, she thought. But this hardness? The unforgiving, untamed land that surrounded her these days was nothing like what she remembered. God in heaven, she was a foolish girl.
She felt the prick of tears at the corner of her eyes and sighed, rubbing them away carefully. She’d been riding hard, and for far too long – the edges of her vision were becoming hazy and the details in the landscape were beginning to slip away. If thoughts of the boarding school were making her tear up, it was clear she was in dire need of rest.
Derredo was just another town on the road to the west. The road had scooped south gradually to avoid the harsher terrain, and with time villages were built up along it. Some were tiny things, not much more than pit stops, but others had considerably more traffic and built themselves up as people came and went. This was one of those towns, and she was beyond grateful for it. It rose up around her now, sturdy wooden structures promising warmth and shelter and a night of peace. As she moved forward along the main road, she wondered how big the place actually was. Her map was somewhat old, and it was clear that the little city had done some growing in the decade since it had been marked by some traveling cartographer years earlier.
There were a few shoddy looking inns right at the cusp of the town, but she had some experience on the road and moved farther in, looking for something with a little bit of class. In those others she was liable to get jumped in her sleep, and that would make all of the hardships she had gone through to get here absolutely worthless. She was dying for a hot bath, as well, and she knew a proper hotel could provide that. Money would not be a problem.
Not lacking a sense of irony, Virginia chose an inn that went by the name of The Dusty Rose. A scruffy looking kid watched her ride up on her speckled mare, chewing on a stalk of straw as he regarded her thoughtfully. She tossed him a couple coins and asked tiredly, “Could you help me find the stables?”
He pushed his cap back and blinked at her, grinning widely, and then picked his newly acquired money up out of the dirt. “Yes ma’am, right this way, ma’am!”
A wide alley led them around to the back of the hotel. The stables weren’t terribly majestic, but they were sturdy and practical, and she could see a fresh barrel of hay waiting to be served up and she was satisfied. She dismounted the mare with some care, her legs stiff and awkward from their constant riding, and unhooked her bag from the saddle. The kid tipped his hat to her and scurried off, but by then the stable boy had noticed her and come forward to help. Virginia made sure the horse was properly looked after, tipped the stable boy for good measure, and then moved into the hotel, desperate to find a bed and get some shuteye.
The entire first floor was a tavern, and by the looks of it, rather popular among the locals. It was crowded and noisy, with a long bar stretching along the wall to the right and a small stage to the left. There was a three-man band playing, and after listening for a moment Virginia decided that the music was very good. The blond man on the piano was especially talented, and considering the number of lively couples dancing nearby, the music was well appreciated by all. Despite her tired state, the noise was a welcome change to the quiet she’d become used to on the road, and a small smile crept its way onto her lips as she moved towards the bar.
A quick drink would help loosen her sore muscles, she thought, and she could get a little information about the town from the bartender or some other helpful patron. The bar was being manned by two bartenders, a man and a woman, with a couple more runners delivering drinks to and taking orders from tables that littered the floor. Virginia couldn’t help but notice with some amusement that they were all attractive men and women – even the band members were good-looking, and they had talent, to boot, which only increased their appeal. Whoever managed the saloon was clever, and his standards were commendable.
Considering the number of people clustered around the bar, clamoring for attention, Virginia was somewhat startled by the quickness with which the young male bartender rounded on her. She’d been told often enough at the boarding school that she was a pretty girl, but she couldn’t imagine that the weeks spent on the road had served her well. The bartender didn’t seem to mind, though, and he flashed her a boyish grin and leaned forward. “What can I get the miss?”
“A bottle of your house whiskey, please.” He gave a nod, still grinning, and pulled a dark green bottle from under the counter and began to fill it at one the bar’s many whiskey barrels. He was still close enough to hear her, so as he worked she leaned forward and asked, “How does one go about getting a room here?”
He eyed her, his head tilting slightly, and she saw a flicker of amusement in those deep green eyes. “A pretty girl like you has a lot of options,” he replied.
Virginia arched an eyebrow the insinuation, and he chuckled. He cut the barrel off and topped her bottle before setting it on the counter. “You want those stairs, sweetheart. They’ll take you to the lobby on the second floor.” He paused and watched her take a quick swig from the bottle, and a little spark in her brain, that little feminine instinct that tells a woman when she’s being admired, informed her that his eyes were traveling. After a second, he asked, “How would you like to pay?”
Virginia hadn’t realized there were options beyond the usual coin. “Carefully?” She quipped, relishing the warm burn that was moving down her throat and into her chest. Already she could feel her muscles responding to the whiskey. It wasn’t exactly a drink they’d served young women back at home, but she’d managed to acquire a fondness for it through some friends at the rivaling boys’ school.
The bartender seemed delighted by her answer, and then leaned forward, his hand closing around hers on the bottle. “I’ll make you a deal. You kiss me now, and I’ll let you drink for free while you’re here.”
Both of her eyebrows went up at that. The offer made her somewhat wary – it wouldn’t do to become this man’s prey for the rest of her stay here. But she also liked the idea of free liquor, and the less she brought out her bag full of money, the better. And he was certainly good-looking, with that stylishly cropped dark hair and those gorgeous green eyes. His skin was tanned, as though he spent his days working outside, and the fitted vest and rolled up sleeves revealing well-toned arms only encouraged that perception. It’s not as if you’re being asked to suffer some minor indignity, after all. His proposal had been heard by a few others around her, and by their looks of amusement she deduced that they were somewhat used to this. But she knew what they didn’t – she would be sleeping alone tonight, like the dead more than likely, and one little kiss wasn’t going to do much to change that.
“Okay,” she said with a shrug, and then leaned forward and kissed him. It had been a while since she’d kissed a man, and the bartender tasted invitingly sweet. She decided to make it worth his while, and felt his hand tighten on hers when she slid her tongue forward over his bottom lip. A few people whistled and clapped around them in response, but she found that most of her attention was on their dancing tongues and his musky, sensual smell. It was one of many moments lately that made her realize how far away the boarding house really was.
His hand remained on hers even as she pulled a few inches away, breathing a little harder than she would have thought. She could clearly read the want in his eyes and smiled wryly. The female bartender had come over to see what the ruckus was, and was already going on about the young man’s deplorable habits cheerfully to the gathered crowd. Virginia did not want to make herself more of a scene than she already had, and lowered her lashes at the bartender as she whispered, “Thanks for the whiskey.”
His smile was rueful and he let her slip away, but there was a mischievous glint to his eyes that warned her that this wasn’t over yet.
The stairs he’d pointed out were wider than your normal set of stairs, with a strip of burgundy carpet moving up the middle of them. The color was a nice touch, she thought as she climbed, and as she rounded the corner into the lobby, she felt entirely vindicated in her choice of hotels. Beautifully carved wooden panels lined the walls and carefully polished oak furniture decorated the room. It was tasteful, she thought, well made and of value, but with a kind of rough edge any ranch hand could be proud of. An older gentleman stood behind the desk and smiled at her as she approached. “Good evening, Miss. How can I help you?”
“I would love a room, if you can spare one.” Virginia set her bag on the floor and thought to ask, “Is there a bathhouse or do the rooms include a tub?”
“Just a bathhouse, I’m afraid.” He winked at her, and added conspiratorially, “We spent all the money on whiskey and this shiny desk.”
Virginia laughed. The fear she’d felt so acutely before was smoothing over as she found herself surrounded by comfort. It wasn’t gone completely, and she was aware of the habitual need to check over her shoulder still. Fear and caution were what kept her alive up to this point and she wasn’t about to discard them, but it would be nice to be able to relax, if only for a little bit. “I suppose it will have to do,” she said with a smile.
“Wonderful!” He turned to one of the beautiful oak pieces – a cabinet on the wall, lovingly detailed with various ranch scenes – and retrieved a key from it. “Number Eleven. If you continue up those stairs and turn right, you’ll find your room near the end of the hall. The bathhouse is on this floor, also to the right, just under where you’ll be sleeping.”
She took the key and slipped it in her coat pocket, and then picked up her bag. “Thank you so much.”
“How long do you plan to stay with us?”
“I’m not sure yet. No longer than three days, I can assure you.”
He smiled again. “No need to worry. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. If there’s anything you need, young lady, please let me know.”
Virginia favored him with another smile before she moved up the stairs. As she followed his directions, her mind wandered back to that kiss, and she found herself feeling a little silly. She liked kissing, and she certainly liked kissing him. The fact that they had been surrounded by people probably helped increase the thrill of it, but nice as it was, she was wondering if that wasn’t the smartest thing to be doing right now. Granted, the men following her were a few days behind, and by then such a scene would probably be long forgotten by the people here. It was a travelers’ town and she knew the traffic in and out must be huge. And no one had been surprised at the bartender’s suggestion, so she had to assume that it was something he did occasionally, if not often. Still, it might be a good idea to have a word with him at some point and give him fair warning. She just didn’t know, when she got right down to it, and that was one of the most frustrating things about all of this. There was so much she didn’t know.
The room was fairly ordinary, with a double bed on the right wall and a small dresser with a bowl for water on the same wall as the door. The window on the far wall faced out towards the back of the inn, towards the stables. There were other, smaller buildings around, but the inn and its stables were separated from the rest by a sturdy clay wall. She admired that for a little before closing the wooden shutters and latching them. The boisterous tavern had lent her a little energy and Virginia decided to use it to wash herself. But first she took a few more mouthfuls of whiskey, and then set the bottle next to the clay bowl. She locked her door behind her and then started for the bathhouse on the second floor.
She supposed it wasn’t really a bathhouse, more of a large community bathroom, if it was enclosed within the hotel. As she walked, she reminded herself to take advantage of the busy town and go shopping for some new things. She’d been wearing the same clothes for sometime and it was definitely starting to show. Since money wasn’t a problem, she would just throw the old ones away and purchase some good traveling clothes tomorrow. She may even be able to get an updated map, which would serve her incredibly well, considering how close she was getting to the rendezvous point.
The Bathhouse, or the Bathing Room, as they seemed to call it, actually took up at least a quarter of the second floor. Virginia was pleased to see adequate plumbing technology had been installed recently – it was almost as good as the plumbing in the boarding school. Certainly some of the best she’d come across. It made her feel a little more normal, that she wasn’t just careening wildly into the west like some brash young colt looking for an out. There was a small sitting area, and then each tub was separated from the next by a series of thin, wooden dividers. Curtains served as doors, and there were five tubs total. Only one was in use, the burgundy curtain pulled shut to block its occupant from sight. She, in turn, took the last tub on the opposite wall and closed the curtain behind her.
Virginia turned the water on and observed the little space as she waited for it to fill. It was small, but not unpleasant, and there were hooks on the walls for bags and clothes. A small cabinet was home to fresh towels and soaps, and tucked in the corner was a toilet. All in all, a nice little getup, she thought. Once the tub was full, she turned the water off and then stripped down. A soft groan escaped her lips as she sunk into the hot water. It was entirely too blissful – if there was one thing she missed about the boarding school at all, it was the required baths they took three times a week. Anything more than that was deemed wasteful and unnecessary; Virginia now felt spoiled if she was able to get more than one a week. It was hysterical, really, how fast things changed.
Her mind drifted as she soaked, and every once and a while she sunk under the water and held her breath for as long as she could. It was a little like being a child again, and she relished the opportunity while she still could. That carefree feeling she wasted so in youth was hard to come by nowadays. The whiskey might also be helping her some. Eventually, when the water and the whiskey began to lose their warmth, she scrubbed herself clean with some soap and paid careful attention to her hair before rinsing it out. Then she got out and drained the tub, dried herself off, and dressed again. She’d sat in the tub for a sinfully long time and now every muscle and joint in her body was aching for bed.
When she pushed the curtain back she became aware that someone was speaking in muffled tones, and at the sight of her, they stopped abruptly. It took another second for her to realize that one of them was the bartender, and upon catching sight of her, he began to grin. The other man must have been in the other tub, she realized, noting his wet, disheveled hair and fresh appearance. It was clear from the way they stood they knew each other. The other man might have also worked at in the saloon, though he was dressed quite casually at the moment.
“How’s the whiskey?” The bartender asked, turning slightly towards her approaching form.
She noted with some interest that the rest of him was just as attractive. He was still wearing the dark saloon vest, but now she could see that his broad shoulders tapered down to narrow hips, equally stunning in black. Virginia was a little dismayed at the desire she suddenly felt, but there it was all the same. “Delicious,” she replied, and quickly busied her fingers in her hair, braiding it efficiently.
He watched her unabashedly, and she noticed that he was not alone in that. But while the bartender’s gaze was openly desirous, the other man’s was one of cool appraisal. He was shorter than the bartender by a few inches, lighter in appearance, and the way he watched her reminded her of a large cat stalking its prey. She imagined that he would move like one, too. He looked familiar, and it only took her a second to place him – the piano player.
“I never got your name,” the bartender spoke, somewhat dryly.
Virginia’s mouth quirked up of its own accord. “I never gave it,” she replied, and then silently berated herself. Bartering a kiss for whiskey was one thing, but openly flirting was something else entirely. No matter how handsome he was.
That boyish grin from before was back and she felt her pulse quicken in response. Good God, she thought, pull yourself together. This wasn’t the boarding school; there wasn’t anything safe about any of this, no matter how much she wanted it to be otherwise. She needed to have her wits about her, and she needed to reign in her desire to continue the kiss, to feel his hands on her body, those lovely little hips moving in time with hers... Christ Almighty, she thought. At what point on this long road did I turn into such a little harlot?
“I’m Will, and this is Jamie.” She saw the other man’s eyes flicker towards him in annoyance at that, but he remained silent. The bartender – Will – stuck out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Virginia took it. She tried not to think about how small and smooth her hand must have seemed to his rough, calloused one. It gave a lot away.
“I’m Virginia,” she replied, her voice weary. “I appreciate the whiskey, but I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”
She hadn’t meant to say tonight, but it slipped out and she began to bubble with self-hatred. The exhaustion was really and truly setting in and Virginia knew that she needed to get away from these men before she said anything else ridiculous.
Will grinned and let go of her hand, but not before brushing his thumb across her knuckles. She couldn’t tell if Jamie was amused or disgusted – he’d been wearing the same bland expression since she’d pulled back the curtain and discovered them whispering. With a wiggle of her fingers, she moved past them back into the hallway and began the trek back to her room. She didn’t look back, so she missed the look the two men exchanged and the nod from Jamie that helped pave the way for so much more than Virginia had bargained for.
When Virginia had purchased the mare, she’d been told that Wind Dancer was an Apache horse and she would find no better animal anywhere else. She’d done a little homework before hand and was careful to introduce herself to the horse and make sure she would accept Virginia as her rider; the last thing she needed was a horse that wouldn’t listen to her when it really mattered. But Wind Dancer seemed to tolerate her well enough and after a few days, the purchase was final and the beautiful speckled mare was hers.
That had been two months ago. A lot had happened since then, and the road had been hard and long. Virginia had the utmost respect for her horse, and she was beginning to suspect that Wind Dancer had become somewhat fond of her human. When Virginia entered the stables, the mare went so far as to whinny cheerfully at her. It was a sound far more wonderful than she ever would have imagined, and she threw her arms around the mare’s neck gleefully.
Shopping for clothes turned out to be more of an adventure than she had originally thought. The shopkeeper took an immediate liking to her and insisted that she try on everything, even offered to have some things tailored specifically for her and ready to go by the next day. Virginia was sorely tempted by that offer, and eventually conceded. It couldn’t hurt either her or Wind Dancer if they got another good night of sleep, and she could take advantage of the baths again before she left. Sometimes, she reflected ruefully as she was being measured and pinned with leathers and other cloths, that the boarding school wasn’t really that far away.
Two pairs of riding pants were in the process of being made for her, but she walked out with the rest of her purchased clothes. Two linen shirts, a durable leather vest, a coat, and one very fine pair of boots were all wrapped and packed into a neat little bag for her. She would wear the old ones for a little longer, saving the new ones for the day she left.
The map was a little harder to come by, so she bought herself a nice brown hat in the meantime and wandered back to the hotel. She might be able to get some advice from somebody about the map and also about a practical weapon for the road. It occurred to her that she too often relied on the kindness of strangers, and that she should be much more judicious about whom she talked to and what she revealed. She’d done well enough so far, to make it out here alive and all, but she was beginning to get to rougher territories and she knew bandits and Indians might start to be a real problem. Now that she was faced with the reality of it, the fear started to edge its way in again and she exhaled slowly. Relax, she told herself, pushing the saloon doors open. Don’t let it trap you. Just keep your head on straight and your eyes on the road, and soon all of this will be over. It’ll all be over before you know it.
These thoughts did help to calm her, though it was somewhat unfortunate that she’d stopped truly believing them weeks ago. They were more of a mantra now than anything else, but she’d take what she could get.
The saloon wasn’t empty, but compared to the night before it certainly seemed that way. Her eyes traveled over the few occupied tables where men were finishing up a late lunch or getting an early start on the night’s frivolities, and eventually, to the bar. Will was watching her, his arms crossed casually as he leaned back against the counter behind him. She wondered how often he worked, and walked over, hoping maybe he could give her some of the information she needed. As she sat on a stool, he smiled.
“Nice hat.”
“Thanks.”
“Drink?”
Virginia tried not to smirk, but the amused gleam in his eyes told her she failed. “Sure.”
As he poured her a glass of whiskey, a different brand she noted than what he filled her bottle with, she said, “I need a map.”
He set the glass in front of her, raising an eyebrow slightly. “What kind of map?”
“An updated one that shows me the Red Coyote Trail.”
Something registered on his face at that, and he resumed his former position against the counter. “Hard trail, I hear.” His tone was conversational, but Virginia suddenly got the feeling that he knew more about it than he was letting on. She’d had plenty of warnings about it, knew that it crossed into Indian territory a number of times as it meandered west, but it was the fastest route and she had a delivery to make, and a number of unkind men to escape from. Last night she’d taken his tanned skin and toned muscles to mean that he worked as a ranch hand or something similar, but now she was wondering if it wasn’t something else entirely.
Shrugging, sipping her whiskey, she continued, “Do you know where I can get one?”
He gave a nod. “You won’t find any in the shops, but I’ll see what I can come up with.” There was a pause, and he looked as though he were thinking something over. “I’m off in a little bit. You could come with me.”
Virginia thought about it, swallowing another mouthful of the lovely burning liquid before answering, “Okay.”
Will smiled. “I might try to kiss you again.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she murmured, amused, and then finished off the whiskey and set the glass down on the bar top. “I’ll be upstairs.” She knew she was being watched again as she headed for the stairs, and forced herself not to look back at him. As she rounded up the corner, she cursed quietly at herself and thought, Oh, fine job, Virginia. It frustrated her how hard it was to concentrate around him – she could never seem to remember how imperative it was to keep her distance and maintain a low profile. And it took far more effort than what was fair to keep her from undressing him in her mind.
Virginia had never really been entirely innocent where sex was concerned. She’d been leagues ahead of the other girls in boarding school, if only because of her parents and their own tumultuous relationship. They’d never married and sometimes she got the sense that her father had never intended to marry in the first place. He was something of a rogue – she’d spent her early years on the road with them both, and she remembered the fights they’d have. Her mother wanted to settle down, start a life in an east coast city, but he’d always refuse. Looking back, Virginia couldn’t really blame her mother for leaving, though sometimes she thought her life might have been different if she’d stuck around. He’d always said that her mother was a hard woman to live with, but she knew he wasn’t a cakewalk either.
So she’d left, and her father slept around. She didn’t really grasp much of it then, but eventually she’d understood that his heart had been broken. He couldn’t settle, it wasn’t in his nature to be tied down, but it never stopped him from loving her mother. Sex became the alternative, the means to forget, and Virginia grew up knowing very well what need was and how passion could be so bittersweet. Love was a little more elusive.
He’d sent her to a good boarding school as soon as he was able. He might have loved the road but it was no place for a child, and he wanted her to receive an education somewhere respectable, give her an opportunity to live a privileged and secure life. So Virginia went from wearing dirty trousers to pristine stockings, and learned which fork to use first, how to address a person according to their status, how to smile and act prettily, even if she was lying through her teeth. But she could never be demure, like the other girls. There was always something strong about her, a confidence and solidarity that all the etiquette in the world couldn’t get rid of. She’d seen and heard too much; the purity they heralded baffled her. But she kept quiet and observed the other girls carefully, read voraciously, and when the hormones began to call, she knew how to answer.
Virginia was fifteen the first time she’d had sex with a boy from one of the neighboring schoolyards. His name was Zachary and he was sixteen. When they were younger, they’d fought often and she would return to the boarding school with torn stockings and mud in her hair. But when their bodies began to change, he stopped pushing her and started staring. The boys were receiving their sex education, but the only thing the girls ever heard about sex was that it was a part of their conjugal duties, and that sex before marriage was unholy. Virginia was furious that he might know more about something than she did, and so she ignored him completely.
One free afternoon he’d come to the house and asked for her. The Head Mistress was immediately suspicious, but he’d lied glibly about a project she was supposed to help him with. He always was a terrific liar. Virginia was rather studious, and the Head Mistress was somewhat prideful and was more than happy to believe that her girls were smarter than the boys down the street. They walked in the direction of the library, but once they were a few streets away he turned to her and stared defiantly.
She remembered feeling both wary and excited, and the conflicting emotions were confusing. Even though she’d practically grown up next door to him, there was a vague sense then that their childhood was ending and something else would be replacing the rivalry. But she was supposed to have been angry with him, and so she had put her excellent training to use and managed to look entirely disinterested. “What do you want?”
He’d scowled at her, and then took her hand. “Come on.” A little thrill had gone through her then, and she forgot to fight back when he started pulling her off towards one of their old haunts. As children it had been perfect because it was empty of people and there were no adults around to reprimand them. Now that they were older, it would serve other uses. They were standing under the old elm, and then he was kissing her before she’d even realized what was happening. Her shock quickly gave way to something else and for the first time she had began to understand the passions that had so tormented her parents.
They continued on like this for weeks, always sneaking off to meet under the giant elm and continue where they’d left off. At first they only ever kissed, but other needs soon imposed themselves on their young bodies and it wasn’t long before they both knew how to make the other desperately hot and aching. Virginia was able to evade her instructors fairly well, but she couldn’t always hide her swollen lips from the other girls and they began to see her as something other than a bookworm. They couldn’t tease her as they might have another girl for fear of her father (the few times he’d made an appearance he’d managed to unknowingly convince them all that he was some kind of roguish, dangerous, but highly wealthy man), so instead they grudgingly respected her. And then one day Zach brought a condom with him, and they spent the next year and a half exploring its various uses.
Sometimes Virginia wondered where Zachary was, and if he ever thought of her. They hadn’t been in love; she admired his easy ability to lie, and was glad to have an equal competitor, and she imagined that the respect was probably mutual, but she didn’t love him. Their relationship had been based more on physical attraction and ego more than anything else. She might have loved the boy after Zach – he was older and charming, and so many of the girls longed for him – but it was clear that he wasn’t interested in her for her mind. So she filed her heart away, and became a little more like her father than she could have known.
Virginia ate the last of her dried meat as she thought, staring idly out the window of her room. Her father had rarely visited her while she was in school, though he often sent her books to read. She read some of them so many times she practically had them memorized, and longed to be able to discuss the stories and characters with him. One of her fondest – and only – memories of them on the road together was his nightly story. They’d sit together by the fire and he would make up elaborate tales about princes and thieves, dragons and mermaids, angels and witches, and when her mother was still with them, she would laugh along side her and add a detail or two.
And now it seemed as though she were living the adventure, though it wasn’t quite what she imagined it would be. Virginia had no idea what her parents would think if they knew she was gallivanting across the prairies on some foolish errand, but she had no doubt they would have something to say about it. They’d certainly always had something to say to each other.
The truth, though, was that Virginia had no idea where her parents were or if they thought anything about her at all. She’d had to find other people to fit the roles of mother and father in her life, and she wasn’t proud of it, but there wasn’t much else she could do about it either. She’d always been a practical girl.
But that isn’t why you’re riding headlong into the unknown, a little voice inquired, knowing. Why you so swiftly left Boston and took up this vague delivery job in the first place?
She washed her face absently and pressed the hand towel firmly into her skin, reminding herself that she had more important things to do than dwell on the past, on what had and hadn’t been. With any luck, she would get her map and a suitable weapon, and she could set out again early in the morning. She knew how to use was a bow and arrow – it was fashionable for young ladies to compete in archery now – but she didn’t know how feasible that would be on the road. A knife of some kind would certainly be handy, and she supposed that it would be a good addition to the gun. She could throw it easily. The thought of actually having to use it on something other than a wooden target made her queasy, though, and she began to braid her hair to soothe her nerves. There were some things, she told herself, as she’d been telling herself for weeks now since her first run in with the men following her, that one had to do in order to survive.
There was a knock at the door and she felt her stomach tighten in fear for a second before she told herself to relax. It’s just Will, you silly girl. Still, to be safe, she sidled up to it and cracked it open cautiously before swinging it wide. She wasn’t at all surprised that he knew where to find her as she began to glance around for her hat.
Will was out of his fancy bartender clothes and she decided that he was much more handsome when he looked like he’d just come in from herding cattle. There was something real about his appearance, and a little more rugged, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t like it. He was leaning in the doorway, arms propped up against the frame, watching her grab her things. “I was thinking we could grab dinner while we’re out,” he said lightly. She wet her lips unconsciously as she hooked her little change purse to her belt, and eyed him curiously.
“Should I kiss you for it?” She eventually asked, and immediately wondered why she couldn’t just keep her mouth shut.
He smiled, and his eyes drifted over her body. “Only if you want to.”
Virginia realized that they might not make it out of the room at this rate, and steeled herself against her growing want. “Well then. Take me to my map.”