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Fates of the Fateless Ch. 3: But Second Impressions are What Really Matter

How’s about a proper hello without a pistol in the face.

ao3

wattpad

“Remind me of yer name again deary?” Asked Bessie, the sweet older blonde woman.  

 Your response is utterly pathetic and small, exhaustion was evident in your voice.

 “Oh of course! What a lovely name it is. Suits such a pretty young woman such as you.” The two of you wound up sharing a wagon alongside her mutually charming husband Hosea. Both incredibly chatty and total jokesters. The second you set foot on their wagon she swooped in to chat you up. “Believe me, I’m the one named after a Heifer! Ahahah!” she had such a strong and jovial chuckle she’d let out at her wise cracks, slapping her leg and throwing her head back every time she did.  

 “Well, I’ve never seen a bovine as lovely as you Bess.” Hosea piped up to the left of his wife, both seated on the wooden stage in front leading the line of wagons to what Dutch had called a semi-permanent residence. “In fact, your appetite for alfalfa is what made me fall for ya.” he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips before grinning up at her.

 “Well, I fell in love with yer money.” She brought his hand to her lips this time. “And you ain’t all that ugly to look at either.” She gave him a dazzling smile that reached her eyes. Holding each other’s gazes with a fit of giggles before a kiss was shared between the couple.

 “You got a sweetheart dear?” Bessie called back to you, eyes forward and hand interlocked with Hosea’s.

 Your eyes roll before you can think not to. “No…”

 “Really?!” she turned to look at you, her eyes wide and eyebrows raised considerably. “Lovely thing like you should have suitors lined up for miles!” she had longer lashes on her top lids compared to her bottom ones, fanning out at the ends extending the length of her eye.

 “How long until we get to… Where was it again?” diverging the conversation to anything other than dating. Especially the same damn conversation you’ve already had with every old woman you’ve encountered trying to save their grandsons love life.

 “Surssparilla peak. Nice little patch of rock overlooking the local town. Got a good water source too.” Your pretty sure Hosea meant to say sarsaparilla, “should be there by tomorrow afternoon. Morning if we’re lucky.” You guessed by the time everyone had packed up and set out after your little fiasco it was well into the afternoon that you actually departed.

 “Gonna be a long ride then…” you rested your chin on your arms that in turn rested on your knees. Gaze wandering out the back toward the wagon following you while Bessie and Hosea got caught up in their own little conversation.  You recognized the two drivers as the same men you had stowed away with on your escape. The dirty blonde had the reins while the dark-haired kid sat appearing to be ranting about something. His face a scowl, hunched over with one hand on his right thigh while his left took to emphasizing whatever he was saying every once and a while. He looked pretty young, if you had to guess he must have been 18-19 years old. His hair was greasy looking and long, reaching to his shoulders. You imagined if you touched it your fingers would come away with oil. He was a lanky kid, skinny and small. At least compared to his companion.

Your eyes then drifted to the absolute beast of a man that sat next to him. He was intimidating, even when just sitting. You could make out two little scars on his chin, in contrast with the darker stubble that was just long enough to be considered a beard. Your eyes traveled the expanse of his face the best you could from 15 feet away, another scar over his nose. Slowing coming to meet his eyes, shaded by his hat. You felt yourself stiffen. Thick eyebrows furrowed slightly; his gaze focused on you. Still just as intense. Studying you in such a way you began to feel self-conscious, only managing to hold his stare for so long before you broke, switching your attention to the surrounding desert terrain that passed slowly.

  You’re pretty sure his eyes are blue.

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“Over here is where you’ll be sleeping along with me and the other girls. Claim your spot and don’t move from it.” Susan Grimshaw, or Miss Grimshaw to you as she so eagerly corrected, began showing you around the camp the group managed to set up in the early hours of morning you all managed to arrive. One you embarrassingly slept through, but Bessie insisted you needed the rest. It was set on the same red colored sandstone the majority of this country seemed to be made out of. Shaded by an array of very old and big Juniper trees that seemed to flourish here. Probably because of the nearby creek that brought an array of green to such a desolate land. Beyond the hills edge a town could be seen settled at the base.

“Over there is Pearson’s kitchen, you’ll be given your share of food in the mornings, evenings, and nights. But don’t get greedy, we all have to eat. Here Strauss is the doc of the camp, try and keep injuries to a minimum. We only got so much supplies.” She walked at such a rate that you could barely take in what you were seeing trying to keep up with her. You almost didn’t return the wave Pearson casually made in your direction.

“You’ll be expected to carry your own weight around here, there are always chores to be done, especially the cookin’ and laundry.” She had made a full circle around the little set up they’d made, briefly pointing out the difference in the water for drinking and washing before you found your attention drifting.

 Some of the men had built a little firepit where they’d made themselves comfortable, sipping at coffee just outside of their own sleeping area. Including Dutch and Hosea who were chatting happily with the rest of the boys. Mr. blue eyes and lanky kid of course were there, and then the other two men you had yet to really encounter. A dark-haired man who seemed transfixed on his cup. Next to him sat Uncle. His name is just Uncle as far as you knew, laughing his ass off at whatever Dutch had said. Face red and plump. He reminded you of a hobo Santa clause.

 The ring of your name quickly pulled you from your head finding Dutch smiling warmly, waving you over.

 “Come meet the boys!” Hosea piped up next to him.  

 You turned your sights back to Grimshaw who simply waved you off.

 “Off you go. Put you to work when yer formalities are done.” Leaving your side to join the other women. You approached the campfire at a brisk walk, not too fast but not too slow. Their eyes all transfixed on you. Hosea reached for your hand as you soon as you were close enough, giving it a squeeze and a reassuring look.

 “How are ya today my dear?” gentle and calm, like he was afraid of spooking you if he was too loud.

 You gave a slow shrug, eyes focused on where your hands met. “Better I suppose…” Another pause before you spoke again, “Thank you for asking.” You brought your eyes to his, they were filled with pity.

 “Good to hear, now how’s about we all get better acquainted, hm?” he stood from his seat hand now on your shoulder to gently turn you to the other men. “The dandy in the fancy pants is Dutch Van der Linde, he’s my business partner and long-time friend of many years.”

 “Hello my dear, just know if you need anything you can come to us two old coots.” His hand found yours in a brief handshake, his grip strong and the cold metal of his rings pressed into your palm. “I apologize for the distasteful greeting you received on our first meeting.”

 “No worries Mr. Van der Linde. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.”

 “This troublemaker,” Hosea wound his way behind the next fella, hands gripping his shoulders in a playful manner. “Is little John Marston.”

 “Hey! Quit it!” John’s distinct gravelly voice confirmed you’re suspicions in his place as the other driver. “I ain’t a kid no more!” he shoved off Hosea’s grip with a scowl and a red face. He briefly gave you a look before looking away. “Hi…” was all you got out of him.

 Before Hosea could speak up for him, blue eyes stood and removed his hat from his head. “Arthur Morgan, nice to meet you ma’am.” He gave a slight bow of his head. His eyes were indeed blue, complimented by green.

 “Arthur is the muscle ‘round here, so if anyone gives you trouble, he’ll knock some sense into ‘em.” Hosea gave him a good smack on the arm. “Yeah, he may look scary, but he’s a real soft-hearted fella.” You didn’t quite believe that. “So much so I have to wonder what lovely poems you write in that little journal of yours. Will we ever get to hear you recite just how much a romantic you are?”

 “Hosea please…” Arthur rolled his eyes, only slightly annoyed by Hosea’s teasing. They must do this to him a lot.

 “Only teasin’ Arthur. You make it too easy for me!”

 “The mopey fellow there is William O’brien. Don’t let him talk your ear off.” Dutch spoke in a sarcastic manner, clearly pokin’ fun at his quiet demeanor.

 “Ain’t much ta say. Got a ragin’ headache.” His hair was dark and short, a matching beard that covered just the lower half of his face leaving his upper cheeks and lip clean shaven. His eyes brows were unruly and wild. Eyes hazel in color and framed by hooded eyelids. The right one a drift slightly. “Nice ta have a new skirt around. Tired’a lookin’ at dese fairies.” He gestured to the rest of the men.

 “Well ya’ll are such charmers aren’t ya?” Uncle stood next “Don’t know how to act in the company of such a fine lady.” He brushed his shirt off before going for your hand. “The names uncle madame.” he attempted to bring his lips to the back of your hand before you quickly snatched it back.

 “No no no! A simple hello is FINE.” He was caught in his pre hand kissing position for a moment before he just shrugged and he returned to his seat.

 “Don’t listen to anything this bum has to say. It’s usually to free load off ya.” Dutch clearly amused at the little scene. “Oh! That reminds me.” He dug into his vest pocket before pulling out some money. “I believe this belongs to you.”

 You ponder taking it for a moment, “Keep it, not like it’s all that much anyway.”

 Dutch made a double take at you, shocked and somewhat amused. “Not much? Well, we must have quite the aristocrat in our midst!” He chuckled.

 “I-I don’t want to be a burden to you all, so if it’ll help you out, it’s yours.” You rubbed the back of your neck slightly debating whether or not to confess the origins of the cash. “It’s.. not exactly mine to begin with…”

 “Stolen money hm? And pray tell where it came from?” He sounded interested, intrigued. But not angry.

 “The sheriff. Back in Redrock where I stumbled upon you lot.” You met Dutch’s gaze. “It was an impulsive action, a-and I feel awful about it…” To your surprise Dutch gripped your shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze.

 “My dear, we have a saying around here.” He looked like he was relieved to hear your confession, as if he’d had a weight lifted off his own shoulders. “Shoot fellas as need shootin,” you stiffened at such an utterance. “save fellas as need savin’ and feed ‘em as need feedin’.” His voice was gentle and eerily calm. “I believe you took this money ‘cause it was what you needed.”

 “And last we saw the sheriff; he was doin’ fine.” Hosea chimed in, giving you a similar look of relief. “If anybody had done him harm, it was those O’driscoll boys.”

 You remained quiet for a moment before breathing out a long sigh of air. Partially from relief, partially from the guilt pressing down on your chest. Taking the bills in your hand you pulled out just the one. $10, the smallest amount donning the face of a man you didn’t recognize, returning the two $20’s back to Dutch. “You keep the rest.” You didn’t wait for him to argue, simply turned to return to Grimshaw.

 “If she doesn’t want it, can I have it?”

 “Shut it Uncle!”