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Will had a penchant for trouble. This was not something new he’d just discovered about himself, or had only just come to terms with; this was just a fact of his life, and it was one that he’d accepted a long, long time ago. Whether he was looking for it or not, trouble always seemed to find him.
As a kid he was often falling off of something: at five, he’d broken arm trying to ride his father’s horse; at seven years old, he fell off the roof of the stables (trying to get to his father’s horse) and broke his leg; ten months after that he re-broke that leg after losing his footing on a rocky trail near home and took a nasty spill (that was after his father had refused him permission to ride his horse). He’d broken fingers, gotten stitches, and earned more than his fair share of cuts and bruises growing up. Some of them were from fights with his cousins and other boys around town; some of them were just accidents. Either way, Will spent most of his childhood sporting these battle scars; trouble liked to mark him.
When he was twelve his mother Ann fell seriously ill and the doctor suggested that they move – it was only he and his father there with her, and they were both too busy working at the local farm to watch her the way she needed to be watched. So the family of three moved to California where they worked on his mother’s brother’s ranch. Harold, her brother, and his wife Bertha were doing fairly well for themselves on that ranch, and between their family of five and the Morrin family of three, there would be plenty of people to help look after Ann. Most of the time it was Bertha or Tabitha, their daughter, who did the nursing, while Will and the boys helped their fathers on the ranch, but Will tried to sit with his mother every night, even if he could only do so for a few minutes.
The boys still fought, as they always had, and of course Will was the one who always took the blame. Sometimes he took it deservingly – Will could be a little hellion when the mood struck him – but there were plenty of other lashes that shouldn’t ever have been his. But why should Harold use his belt on his own boys when a scapegoat was always available?
The first few times it happened he’d cried, and afterwards would always appeal to his father to make it stop – he could explain the mistake to Harold, make the other man see that it hadn’t been Will who’d left the gate unlatched; that it wasn’t Will who’d stolen the rifle and shot three of the chickens they’d been fattening up for later or shirked all of his duties around the house to go play down by the stream.
But his father never did. Will was never sure if his father kept his mouth shut because he was afraid they would be turned out, or if the man simply didn’t care, but he learned to stop crying fast after that. He would take the beatings without so much as a sound, and did his best to avoid them all together, if he could – if Harold was ever around when he finished a chore, he made sure his uncle came and saw it with his own eyes so that he couldn’t use it as an excuse to beat him later. Sometimes he did anyway, but usually he was drunk then and there wasn’t much you could do when Harold started in on his whiskey. Years later, when he began working for Saul as a bartender, Will could never bring himself to touch that specific brand – he could pour any whiskey but that one. The other bartenders thought of it as one of his quirks and went along with it; he thought Saul might have known otherwise, but either way the man didn’t push it. It was one of the things he liked best about that man, actually.
He was seventeen when his mother died. By then Will had realized that he was going to get whipped whether or not he did the things Harold accused him of, so in his anger he made sure that if he was going to get beat it would be for a damn good reason. Some part of him knew he was getting out of control, but he couldn’t stop himself. Harold went on hitting him as usual, and his own father continued to turn a blind eye to the treatment, right up until Ann’s death. But after his sister died, Harold decided that there was no reason for Will to stay on at the ranch – he had no continued obligation to the brat and turned him out. His father, being so quiet and hardworking, could stay. Will didn’t say goodbye to him, or any of the others.
In a neighboring town he was taken on as a hand on a different ranch. He was free of Harold’s beatings but he was still wild. He discovered girls, and found his own whiskey, and spent the next two years baking under that California sun, rounding up cattle and looking over the ranch borders. He was being paid now for his work, something that had never happened before. Will saved all those hard-earned wages and eventually left California, vowing never to look back.
On the way to Derredo, he found himself in a great many bars and a great many beds, and got kicked out of both regularly. Occasionally he took on an odd job here and there just to keep a healthy cushion of coin at all times, but by the time he reached the Diamond’s safe haven he’d pretty much used that up. He’d been in The Dusty Rose, nursing a drink and his pride, trying to think of his next step, when he heard raised voices over the moody tune from the piano. It was the fight he’d told Gin about – the fight he’d helped break up and then jump-start all over again when one of the men involved made that ill-advised barb about his mother. He’d been in plenty of brawls but that was the one fight that Will could honestly say had changed his life, and for the better.
It didn’t take him long to notice that The Dusty Rose had quite a few regulars. Sometimes these regulars would go away for a few days, sometimes weeks, and then return again like they’d never been gone. Will thought about it for a month or so, and then decided he wanted in on it. He worked harder at befriending these men, and turned himself into a damn good bartender. The way he saw it, the best way to prove his worth was to show them that he could pull his weight. He had a way with people, too, one that he’d been honing long before ever coming to Derredo, and behind the bar was the best place to showcase this talent.
One night, as they closed down the saloon for the day, Saul invited him over to Louis’s humble abode for a nightcap with some of the others. Teddy and James had been there, along with Hunter and a handful of other guys, and it was there that he’d learned about the Diamonds, about what all these men actually did when the came and went.
“I think you’ve got something in you,” Saul had said to him, leaning over the table a little. He remembered the way the candlelight had illuminated his face, making his hazel eyes shine with promise. “I’d like you to stick around a little, see if we can’t find out what that something is.”
Some of those other guys were dead now. Hunter’s uncle had been one of them, shot down in gunfight with some veteran outlaws a couple of years back. Two others had died on the road about a year ago, maybe, if that. He mourned their deaths, and every other Diamond who perished in the good fight, like he had mourned his mother’s death. The Diamonds were his family; they’d opened their arms to him and given him an opportunity to get his life together, to start fresh and leave the past behind.
But, in classic fashion, he’d gone and fucked that up, too.
Will rubbed his eyes and sighed, wishing he could rub his mistakes away just as easily, and ordered another whiskey.
He’d slept with another woman.
It had been just a thought, at first. An idea that he’d pushed back into the recesses of his mind. He hadn’t been able to get past Virginia, and there was a little part of him, that old part of him that governed all of his relations with women, that whispered a good night out was in order. The best way to forget about one girl was to find another, right? It had always worked before, and no doubt it would work again.
But he hadn’t acted on that. The thought lingered, but Will couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instinct held him back and kept his bed lonely at night. Another woman couldn’t make the situation any better, and it certainly wouldn’t make Virginia come running back to him. He was just shy of being miserable now, but he knew things would get a whole lot worse if he did something as stupid as that.
Eventually he’d gone to The Grand Hotel one night to see her. Hunter went with him, and for that he was both grateful and annoyed. Grateful because he knew that nothing could happen – he couldn’t be tempted to pull Virginia into a room with him and start the whole damn thing over again. There was too much at stake and however much he wanted her, some things were more important. Annoyed, though, because he wanted to be able to at least talk to her, get a quiet moment with her, and get all this off his chest. It was all bottling up in him and he knew if he kept it inside it wouldn’t amount to anything good.
They’d come about half way through the show. The man at the piano was drinking and talking to some patrons nearby, and the woman who was singing was flitting from table to table like some kind of social butterfly. She’d glanced their way when they entered, and Will gave her a little nod in greeting that she returned with a coy smile. Pretty, he thought distantly, and began to look for Virginia.
The woman in question had been sitting at a table just a little ways from the piano. There was another man with her, close in age, with dark, longish hair, and he did not like the way this man was leaning towards her. Jealously flared up immediately, a hot, terrible feeling in his stomach, and Will fought to stamp it down. It was an emotion he didn’t often feel, mostly because he never really stuck to one woman long enough to make any kind of real attachment, but came in good and strong then and he found himself curling his fists. Stop, he told himself.You’re being an idiot. There’s nothing to worry about.
That’s when Virginia stood, and the man with her, and he saw the way he’d held her hand and kissed it. His mouth had lingered, and Will knew his own side of the species well enough to know what was being insinuated through such a gesture. For her part, Virginia had pulled away politely, but he’d caught the little smile on her face and that had hit him like a blow to the gut. The man stared after her as she walked out, and Will felt the overwhelming desire to wipe the smirk off of his pretty boy face – that, too, was a look Will was well acquainted with and it was one he didn’t want to see on the face of any other man. Not when it came to Virginia.
But she hadn’t seen him, didn’t even know he was there, and that angered him, on top of everything else. Part of him knew it wasn’t fair – he was acting out of line again, expecting her to read his mind and come find him. He could have crossed to her, could have caught her outside – he wished he had now, more than ever. But instead he let his anger take control, and stomped over to the bar, every fiber of him now desiring to get good and drunk so he could just forget about her for one goddamn night. Hunter had went with him, and tried to talk him out of his foul mood but there was only so much patience in the blond and eventually he’d told Will off. “Get a grip on yourself,” Hunter had told him, sounding almost disgusted, and then left him to wallow in his misery.
Which he did, expertly. He sat through the next set of songs, nursing his bitterness, and once or twice a song got through to him with haunting clarity – some of those themes, those heartbreaks, were just too close for comfort.
When the singer came up next to him at the bar, he hadn’t even given his previous idea any thought. But she stood close to him, and her voice was low and sweet, and he realized through his drunken haze that he could probably sleep with this woman if he wanted to. There was a suggestion in her, subtle but there, and the more she talked the more he began to think it was a good idea after all. He couldn’t keep obsessing over Virginia, that wasn’t healthy. And besides that, they’d called it all off, right? It was clear she was moving on, at the very least, so shouldn’t he try to do the same?
Will held his head in his hands. Idiot, he thought to himself. You haven’t changed at all.
He slept with the singer. She’d been eager enough, and it certainly wasn’t the worst night he’d ever had with a woman. But she hadn’t been Virginia, and afterwards he didn’t feel like sticking around. Even as he wandered back home through the dead of night back to his cold and empty bed, Will had known that he’d probably just made a terrible mistake. He should have waited. Shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Should have thought about what he was doing. He should have done a lot of things, when you got right down to it.
James was pissed off at him, he could tell. The blond hadn’t said anything, but Will was expecting some kind of reprimand any day now. Probably he would follow Hunter’s suit and tell him to pull himself together, and forget about Virginia. He’d been unusually pensive after he’d returned from the hotel yesterday, and though he’d imparted the news about Sara being present in Pagerton to him and Hunter, his mood hadn’t improved. In fact, it only seemed to get worse as the night wore on. Will didn’t know what was on Jamie’s mind but whatever it was, it was clearly getting to the man. He could have written it off as concern for his sister, but there were a few instances when James turned his dark, brooding stare on him and in those moments he knew, without a doubt, that Jamie wasn’t thinking about Sara.
Will didn’t know what to think about that. As much as it irritated him to realize it, the bartender didn’t like the idea that James was just as human as he was, just as prone to everyday weaknesses. Different ones than him, maybe, but they were weaknesses all the same. He was the Ace, after all. He was above all that; always had been, for as long as Will had known him.
These moments really made him question what the hell he was doing with his life.
Apparently, not a whole damn much.
The bartender brought him another shot of whiskey and nodded briefly at him before moving down the bar to help somebody else. Will knew the look – he’d been a bartender in too many places, and he knew he’d given the same look to a score of men in the past. It was a gesture of kindness and understanding, even pity, all wrapped up in that little bob of the head. Will had been recognized as in mourning.
He took the shot, his fourth one so far, and sat back in his chair. This saloon was a small one compared to the one in The Grand Hotel, certainly much smaller than the one in The Dusty Rose, and as he glanced around, Will conceded that it was probably a seedy one, too. It was far too early in the day for most to hit the bar, so right now it was still relatively empty. But he’d needed a drink (or four), and it was far enough away from the main road to warrant him some privacy. The last thing he expected was for James or anybody to waltz in and find him here.
Unfortunately, trouble found him easily, as it always seemed to do, and it came in the form of the dark-haired man he’d seen with Virginia. Unbelievable, Will thought, his face stony as he watched the man amble up next to him at the bar.
The man noticed him watching and gave him a nod as he flagged down the bartender. He was dressed well – much better than Will was – and his black hair was neatly pulled back from his face. The guy was good-looking, probably; clean, respectable. Maybe rich. Did Virginia want this?
Will looked away at that, closing his eyes as if in pain. The only thing he knew for sure was that whatever she wanted, Gin definitely deserved better than him.
“Shot of Dobbson,” the man said to the bartender, and Will stiffened. That was Harold’s drink of choice. He watched as the bartender brought the bottle over and poured into the tiny glass, his green eyes narrowing a little at the familiar bourbon label. The smell wafted over, strong as ever and exactly as he remembered it, and Will felt an old anger begin to burn in his blood.
The man took the shot, and then sighed in relief as he set the glass back on the bar top. He glanced at Will again, and this time offered a slight grin. “Rough morning?”
“Something like that,” Will agreed. The man’s grin did nothing to calm the slow boil of hate in him.
He offered Will his hand then. “The name’s Thompson. Zach Thompson.”
Will shook it. “Will Morrin.”
“You from around here?” Zach asked, and caught the bartender’s eye as he gestured for another drink.
“No,” Will replied, fighting to keep his voice cool. “Just coming through. You?”
“In town for a party,” Zach explained. His grin was a little crooked. “My girl’s birthday.”
“Your girl?” Will could barely contain his fury; it was a wonder this guy couldn’t see straight through his act. Obviously he was far better trained than he thought he was, especially with all the whiskey in his system.
“Yeah, she’s my feisty little woman. Just bought her a present, actually.” Zach reached in his coat and pulled a small box out of it. He opened it and showed Will the expensive looking emeralds inside. The jewels glittered beautifully and he could imagine Virginia wearing them, knowing no one else could ever pull them off the way she could. She deserved to have things like this, he thought. Things he’d never be able to afford.
“She likes emeralds?” Will asked, scratching the top of the bar with his finger absently.
“Hell if I know.” Zach shrugged and put the box away. “But I’ll try anything. Shesays she’s engaged to somebody else, but I know a lie when I see one. I’m gonna win her back, though, even if I have to buy all the jewelry in this shit-hole town. I had her first – she was mine before anybody else’s and there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let some other bastard get his hands on her.”
Will wanted to wring his neck. “She’s not happy with the other guy?”
Zach turned his eyes on him, as if sensing that something was off. “I don’t care if she is,” he answered flatly. “I had her first.”
He heard the warning note, the rattle of the snake’s tail underneath, and that’s what pushed him over the edge. “What makes you think she’d take you back?” Will challenged, no longer cool as he stood. “You think you can buy her off with a little bit of jewelry? You don’t know what she likes, and you don’t even care about her. She’s just a trophy to you, and you don’t deserve her.”
Zach took his shot and slammed the glass back down, getting ready for the fight. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Virginia’sfriend,” Will spat, “Which is more than I can say for you.”
That settled it. Zach pushed him, and the fight escalated quickly from there. It had been a long time since Will had been in a bar fight, even longer since he’d been in one with good reason. The whiskey was fueling him, along with his fury, and neither one of these things would let him hold his punches. The bartender was yelling at them, telling them to stop, but Will wasn’t listening and it didn’t look like Zach was about to let up.
He’d wiped at his mouth, feeling the trickle of blood, and watched as Zach stabled himself and came back. Will had just delivered a pretty decent right hook to his jaw but he had to give the guy some credit – he could take a punch. He came back with swift hook of his own. Will was able to dodge the first one, but his reaction time was two shots of whiskey slower than Zach’s and the bastard caught him with the second. Stumbling, Will used a table to right himself and then moved quickly, knowing the black-haired bastard was right there. Zach’s blow glanced his jaw again, though not nearly enough to faze him. Will used the other man’s momentum against him and hit him in the gut before decking him across his face again.
A grunt of pain followed, and Zach swore at him before coming back, but by then the bartender had managed to get some help. One of the recruited grabbed hold of Zach, hooking him around the armpits, and struggled to keep him from jumping back at Will while the bartender came in between them. “Get out of my bar,” he snapped at Will. “It’s too damn early for this.”
“With pleasure,” Will muttered, still glaring at Zach, and promptly stalked out of the saloon. The sun was bright, and as he squinted he felt the promise of a black eye. Already he could feel it swelling up, and cursed to himself as he headed back towards the bed and breakfast.
James and Hunter were positioned around the coffee table in the sitting room downstairs when he stalked in. They were looking at one of Louis Dillard’s maps, probably discussing the various exits available to them, but once they caught sight of his bruising face they both stood. “What the hell happened to you?” Hunter asked.
“What does it look like?” Will snapped.
“Who was it?” James inquired, a little more carefully.
Will didn’t answer right away, preferring to pace back and forth angrily. He knew that the question was important – they might think that Garrett’s men had started something, which would certainly signal the start of their war. But to get into a fight with Thompson was a mistake, and even though he probably deserved the reprimand he had coming, Will didn’t really want to hear it. Reluctantly, he told them the name, “Zach Thompson.”
Hunter looked confused, but Will saw the flash of recognition in Jamie’s eyes and wondered how he knew. The whiskey was still pumping through his blood and made it easy to fall back into anger and suspicion. James’s voice didn’t help – he could hear the irritation quite easily.
“Why?”
“’Cause he’s fucking around with Virginia,” Will responded waspishly.
Hunter closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Okay, somebody catch me up. Who’s Thompson?”
“He’s Oliver’s assistant at the bank,” James clarified, his dark eyes still on Will. “And something of an old flame to Virginia, if I understand correctly. He’s originally from Boston. He came with Oliver and Sara on invitation.”
Zach had implied as much at the bar but it still bothered Will to hear it be confirmed. “How do you know all that?” He asked, no longer pacing.
“Virginia told me. He’s been sending her flowers. They’re all over the place at the hotel.”
“What happened to the whole “engaged” scenario?” Hunter asked.
James finally moved his eyes away from Will’s, and glanced instead at Hunter as he responded, “It’s still there. She told him but he’s going ahead with the flowers anyway.”
Hunter actually looked amused, something Will couldn’t fathom at all and it only succeeded in frustrating him even more. The blonde man rubbed his chin and murmured, “I bet she hates that, huh?”
Will scowled and began pacing again, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide the fact he was balling his fists. This wasn’t funny. “Am I the only one who finds this really fucking insulting? The man was talking about how he planned to buy her off you with a couple emeralds,” Will spat. “I don’t want him anywhere near her.”
“That shouldn’t be your concern right now,” James said. There was a hint of warning behind the cool tone and it pushed Will over the edge.
“Why fucking not?”
“You slept with Catherine Reynolds three nights ago.”
Will went rigid, locking eyes with the Ace of Diamonds. Jamie’s eyes were getting darker, but it wasn’t the quick change he was used to seeing – it was a slow, leisurely descent into black, like they were the eyes of some prowling animal intent on its kill. The anger in him flared even more. Will knew he was being baited, being goaded into it, but he couldn’t help it anymore. There was too much jealousy in him, and it mixed too well with the whiskey.
“I talked to Fergus,” James said coolly, answering the unasked question. “Virginia had some suspicions about the woman – apparently she’s been openly hostile – so I went to find out more. Fergus didn’t want to say anything at first, for Gin’s sake, but I got it out of him.”
“Who the hell is Catherine?” Hunter asked. His patience was beginning to wear thin, as well – even he, who was so unerringly calm all the time.
“The singer,” Will replied tersely.
Hunter frowned, but he didn’t add insult to injury. James was doing that enough for both of them, at any rate.
“It was a mistake,” Will muttered. It was the closest to an apology he would get, though there wasn’t an ounce of him that believed he really had to explain himself to either of them. The person who deserved that wasn’t presently in the room. The thought sobered him a little, and hesitated before declaring, sounding much more calm than he suddenly felt, “I think I should talk to Gin.”
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say because James snapped at him. “Like hell you are. I’m not letting you get anywhere near her right now.”
Will let go of all the rage that had been steadily building up. “Fuck off, Jamie. What’s between me and Gin isn’t any of your goddamn business. I owe it to her to—“
“This isn’t about Virginia, it’s about you,” James yelled, his eyes good and black now. “This is you trying to ease your guilty conscience. She’s dealing with enough shit on her own and you telling her you slept with another woman is only going to make it worse.”
Hunter looked as surprised by James’s outburst as Will felt but the bartender was nowhere near done expelling his own anger and he wasn’t about to be sidetracked. “Who the hell are you, her knight in shining armor now? I care about her and I don’t want—“
James cut him off again. “If you really fucking cared you would have kept it in your pants,” he hissed. “But as it is now you’ve not only fucked some girl who is potentially working outside of Marlene, but you fucked your position and you fucked over Gin. What the hell are we supposed to tell Teddy when he gets here and sees this fucking mess?”
“How about we tell him how his little golden boy was the one who pushed me into bed with her in the first place?” Will retorted. They were loud but he no longer cared; he didn’t even bother to try and lower his voice. “I’m sure he’ll love that little piece of information.”
“Okay,” Hunter pushed in then, literally stepping between them so they were forced to recognize his presence. “This is ridiculous. Yelling back and forth like sixteen year old boys definitely isn’t solving any of our problems.” He gestured back towards the table. “How about we move back to the map for now and try and figure out a route back to Derredo, just in case—“
The door to the inn opened and Virginia stepped in carefully, her eyebrow raised. Will felt his heart sink into his stomach as he looked at her, and thought dully how twisted this was really turning out to be. “What’s going on in here?” She asked, shutting the door quietly as if the noise might somehow goad them into an attack. “I could hear your shouting coming up the road…” It was then that she finally took a good look at him because her eyes widened and she completely jumped tracks. “What on earth happened to you?” She hadn’t, apparently, heard what they were shouting about, and for that he was thankful.
Will glanced at James, who stared steadily back at him. He thought about telling her the truth – telling her about the fight, about why he was even at the saloon this early in the first place, but he realized with a sinking finality that however much he disliked him right now, James had a point. In a voice that sounded oddly tired, he eventually replied, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Gin. I’m fine.”
It was clear to all of them that Virginia had caught the look and didn’t believe a word of what he said. But she didn’t call him out. Her restraint was almost visible as she murmured, “Okay.”
It surprised him. Will half expected her to fly into her own rage, to retort back with some sort of verbal sting, but instead she seemed to accept his silence calmly. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, to be honest. Already the gap between them felt a little bigger.
“Oh.” Virginia shook her head lightly, as if clearing her thoughts, and continued, “I came here for a reason. Last night I was up reading and I overhead an interesting conversation outside. Did you know Garrett’s in town?”
Will tensed, and he could tell the other two Diamonds responded similarly. “How do you know that?” Hunter asked, a tinge of surprise to his voice, slightly laced with annoyance. It seemed like everybody but him had a card up their sleeve today; Will couldn’t blame him for getting a little irritated about it.
“I saw him,” Virginia replied. “Catherine called him ‘Garrett’ and I put two and two together. Red hair, average height, gravelly voice?” She asked, and Hunter nodded, frowning.
“Catherine?” James questioned, frowning.
Virginia nodded. “She was updating him, it sounded like.” She glanced up at the ceiling and began counting off her fingers the things she remembered. “Let’s see, she called me a worthless brat, apparently she doesn’t like me; Garrett doesn’t believe Teddy is dead, and is or was interested in my mother; and he knows about the dinner, and that James is going to be there.”
“Huh.” Hunter rubbed his scar. “This sure is a great day, isn’t it?”
From her glance, Will could tell she caught the sarcasm in Hunter’s quip, the layers, but she didn’t respond to that. Instead, she added, “She also mentioned that Avery Grey has been watching The Grand Hotel. Marlene is, apparently, furious. I’m not terribly happy about it, myself.”
James swore and then turned his back to them, clearly having some trouble keeping the aggression down to a bare minimum today. Will knew he was partly responsible for that, and couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied. Still, it was very off-setting to see the Ace of Diamonds so riled up, especially considering that he was amongst friends. If Avery Grey had been sitting on the couch, that would have been one thing. There were no enemies in sight here, and yet Jamie was ready to go anyway. Slightly inebriated as he was, Will still thought it worth noting. He could try and puzzle over it – and the whole of their argument – later.
“Is there something between them?” Virginia asked. “Garrett and Marlene, I mean.”
Hunter glanced at James, who didn’t make any move to answer, and then told her, “I don’t know. I think they’ve worked together a couple of times in the past and Garrett’s had a thing for her, but I don’t know if she encouraged it or not.”
Will ran his tongue over his lip, tasting blood as he tested the cut, and winced a little. Nothing particularly hurt yet, but he knew once the whiskey wore off he’d be in a sorry state. The thought tempted him to keep a bottle around, but he nixed it a second later. Drinking hadn’t been doing him a whole lot of good lately.
Virginia glanced from him to James, and then to Hunter, and then wordlessly went into the kitchen. She reappeared a second later with a wet rag and pointed to a chair calmly. “Sit,” she instructed him, and Will hesitated a second before obeying. She started to clean out the various cuts on his face, and he was reminded of the two times he’d cleaned her. It hadn’t been so long ago, though he’d felt at times that the days had dragged on into years. He remembered them now almost longingly, as if they happened ages ago and were lost forever, and Will could feel the hopelessness of the situation really begin to crowd him in.
She spoke as she worked, though she continued to address all of them. “What if Garrett or Grey come here?” She asked, her voice perfectly even. Will winced and jerked away from her hands she started on a particularly sensitive bruise – sensitive enough to get through the dull haze of alcohol. She waited patiently for him to sit still and started again. “Do you think they would try something on the night of the dinner?”
“Maybe,” Hunter obliged. “I wouldn’t put it past either of them. I was thinking of talking to Edward, telling him to stay with Abby and the rest of his family for that night, just to be safe.”
“What about you two?” It was the first time since she’d started cleaning him that Virginia had actually looked him in the eyes. He missed the warm brown color of them, but even that was done in a way that had him looking back nostalgically. Was this the whiskey, or something else? Will couldn’t be sure.
Hunter had moved back by the map and settled into one of the armchairs, and was now rubbing his face tiredly. “We probably won’t stay here,” he eventually replied. “It’d be safer to be somewhere public. One of the saloons, maybe even the one in the hotel. At least then we can keep an eye on things while you and Jamie sit pretty at the dinner table.”
When she finished she set the rag aside and offered him a slight smile before moving back towards the center of the room. Will tried not to let it go to his head, and leaned back in his chair as she announced, “I’m thinking about picking the lock on Marlene’s bedroom door.”
“Is this something you learned in boarding school?” Hunter teased, linking his fingers behind his head.
“You could say that,” Virginia replied coyly.
Will pitched in, holding the wet rag against his eye. It felt better than the air did, at this point, though he didn’t know if it did much more good beyond that. “Is there something specific in there that you want or are you just that bored?”
“Nothing specific, but I thought I’d look around a little. She has a desk in there with a locked drawer, I know that much. Maybe I can find something out about her in relation to Garrett or my father.”
From the stories he’d heard about her, Marlene didn’t strike Will as being particularly careless, but he supposed if Virginia could get in and get out it was worth a shot. One thing was for sure, Teddy’s daughter was unlike any other girl he’d ever slept with. Picking locks? Throwing daggers? The only other times he’d ever acquainted women with knives was in a much more figurative sense – using them to stab people in the back, so to speak. But not this girl. The apple fell pretty damn far from the tree when it came to her and Marlene.
It looked like James had finally settled himself because he turned back to the conversation and was ready, as always, to play the devil’s advocate. “What if you get caught?”
“I’m not incredibly worried about it,” Virginia replied smoothly. A look passed between them then and it caught Will off guard. He didn’t know what to make of it, exactly, but he was pretty sure he didn’t like it. He was also beginning to realize that there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it, either. Not with the way things were right now.
“Let us know if you find any bodies,” Hunter remarked.
She smiled at him, and gave a little curtsey. Will really wished she hadn’t; it was too damn cute. “I will. You gentlemen behave yourselves,” she said, raising an eyebrow at both him and James, and then started back towards the door. “I have an appointment with the tailor again.”
“Bye,” Hunter called out cheerfully.
Will gave her a little salute and then she closed the door behind her. The men were left to themselves once again, and now in the aftermath, Will felt that all of his anger and his frustration were now gone. It had all drained out of him while she was here. Maybe Gin had cleaned it out of him, even. But now it just didn’t seem as important. All he felt now was tired, and achy, and a little bit sad. Later he could sort that out, when he was alone and it was dark and everyone else was sure to be asleep or dealing with their own inner demons. Later, he could try and come to terms with what he’d learned today, from what James had said and what he hadn’t said.
He felt Jamie’s gaze on him after a second and glanced at the Ace dispassionately before shifting in the chair so he could see the map spread out on the table. “So what are we thinking?” He asked, throwing himself into it entirely. There was no sense in wasting time brooding over what happened. He’d already done that plenty; it was time to move forward again.
Anyway, the dinner willbe in the next chapter – that I can absolutely guarantee. Although I feel like it’s been so hyped up now you’ll all probably be disappointed by it. ;p
red-cowboy-boots: ha ha! I would apologize but I feel like that would be completely insincere of me. I’m delighted to know that D&D is making you procrastinate, especially since at least half of this story has been written with me doing exactly the same! Pffft, school. ;p
AgamiMuffin: It was ridiculously long, wasn’t it? I don’t know how it happens… I never plan it to be that way, I can assure you, but then one thing leads to another and suddenly I’ve got nearly twenty pages ofstuff and I don’t have the heart to cut it up. I’m glad you’re enjoying it anyway, though. Hopefully the party will spice things up a little. (;
Carmel March: good to see you back! I’m glad D&D is keeping you hooked and bringing you back for more, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Vixen of Vienna:thanks, ma bonne femme! (That might be trés wrong, you’ll have to excuse my poor high school French.) I’m a big fan of shades of grey myself, so I always try and keep that in mind when I write. I think Westerns are especially great mediums for that, given the time period and the history of the West in general. Marlene is one of my favorites, too – something about her is just cool and she’s a lot of fun to write.
MatthewPaul: Request pending. I think the next chapter is probably going to take me a little longer to get out, simply because I’ve been writing up to it this whole time, but we’ll see how things go. I don’t think this story will get any longer than twenty chapters or so, though if this chapter is anything to go by, I might end up eating those words. lol