Violence: This is a western, so?.yeah, lots of violence but no more than the usual Xena ep.
Sex: Once again, it is a western. And it does involve Xena and Gabrielle lookalikes. So either leave now or?.well, stay.
Part 1
February 12th
Tupelo, Mississippi 1878.
Smoke sawdust and whiskey penetrated the air. Spittoons adorned the walls and over a dozen scantily clad girls walked through the saloon trying to stir up a little business. It was the first Saturday of the month and the cowboys were spending their money from the last month. Billy, the bartender poured alcohol into the jugs in front of him and passed them to a waitress in a low cut emerald dress. As he kept the liquor flowing, he wondered again were his newest girl had gone. He hadn't seen Sugar, as she called herself, for over an hour, and although she'd often taken men upstairs in the four days since she started, more often than not, she did the flirting and let the other girls handle the bedroom work. He didn't mind though, he'd rather wait until she came to him. Hell, he might even offer marriage she was that damn pretty. It wasn't as if she'd do any better. Who'd marry a saloon girl anyway?
The man in the corner sat sipping his whiskey, he wasn't really much for drink but he needed it tonight. Tonight was his big chance. He'd heard rumours of the outlaws being in town and wanted to catch them before anyone else got around to it. Not that this mob would, chances are they'd be drunk until next week. He poured himself another whiskey and then pushed it away. He needed his wits about him tonight. One drink would calm him but two would relax him a bit too much. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but was certain that he'd know the outlaw gunman if he walked through the door. What was the point of being a bounty hunter if you didn't know what to look for? One of the saloon girls sauntered past him but he ignored her and continued looking at the doors. He didn't notice the other girl until she was right next to him. She had perched herself on the end of the table, and looked at him quizzically. Alex Reid looked up into the bluest set of eyes that he'd ever seen. She seemed to be laughing at him silently, as if she knew something he didn't. Her body fit snugly into her sky blue dress and there was just enough cleavage to make him wonder what was underneath the rest of the fabric. "Lookin' for someone?" She drawled, crossing her arms in front of her. Alex nodded, afraid that he'd embarrass himself if he did anything more. Her lips turned upwards slightly at the corners, forming a cute little smile.
Alex gathered his wits about him, "A man by the name of Delaney." He said, smiling back at the irresistible girl.
"The outlaw?" She looked surprised.
"Yeah. Know anything about him?" Alex questioned, shooting another glance at the door.
"Sure do. He won't be here until after midnight. Scared of the sheriff I guess." The girl replied, "Do you have a meeting with him?"
Alex began to laugh as if the thought amused him. "I s'pose that you could say that, darlin'. I'm a bounty hunter." The girls eyes widened, she was certainly a very good actress if nothing else.
"But isn't that dangerous?"
Alex looked her over again. She was certainly the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Her raven hair was pulled up on top of her head and loose tendrils hung about her face and neck. Hell, if Delaney wasn't going to show before midnight, he might as well do something worthwhile. If anything it would calm his nerves at the prospect of bagging the most wanted outlaw this side of Missouri. "Not when I can think of a beautiful lady waiting for me at the end of the day." He replied finally. "What's your name, Honey?"
The girl giggled seductively. "No, that's Honey over there." She replied, pointing to a buxom blonde near the door. "And that's Candy and Maple, but I'm Sugar."
"And I'll bet you're sweeter than anything." Alex said, placing a hand lightly on 'Sugar's' knee.
The girl decided to ignore or overlook the compliment.
"What's your name, mister?" She asked.
"Alex." He replied. Smiling again, he added, "You got anywhere private we could go?" A fight had broken out across the barroom, causing Alex to glance around. Sugar got his attention again though, running a finger down his cheek.
"Think you can afford it?" She drawled softly. Alex nodded, right now he'd pay anything for this girl. She smiled once more and took his hand to lead him to the door at the back of the saloon. He shot one more glance around the barroom. Once upstairs, Sugar led the man to her room near the far end of the hall, trying to ignore the noises coming from each of the other rooms they passed. "Here we go." She pushed open the door and shut and bolted it when he had passed through. The room was nothing much, just a bed and dressing table, a dress hung on the door and there was a rope on the dresser. Alex absently picked it up and wondered what it was for. He turned to question Sugar about it but swallowed the question when he turned to her. She had slipped out of her dress and stood near the door in a fancy corset and petticoat. He stepped toward her and she eagerly began to unbutton his shirt.
"You're a naughty little thing aren't you?" He whispered as she ran her hands down his bare chest. "I can be good" she whispered back as she worked on his belt buckle. Her fingers prised the rope
from his hands and she glanced up at him. "Wanna play?" She drawled seductively, leading him over to the bed. Alex couldn't wait to get his hands on the little devil. Sugar pushed him backward onto the bed and took his left hand, which she quickly tied to the bedpost.
"Hey! What the-" Alex cried, noticing how the rope tugged at his skin. He tried to reach up to undo himself but was distracted when Sugar leaned in to kiss him. She tentatively pulled at his bottom lip and then licked her own appreciatively.
"Please?" She almost pleaded. His eyes searched hers as if looking for a reason why she'd do this. He eventually reasoned that the worst she could do to him was rob him, and as they were in a saloon, he doubted that she'd try that with all these people around. Quickly, she tied the rope around his other arm when she saw that he agreed. She would have done it anyway, but better to hold her character until she needed to drop it. With him safely secured to the bedposts, She slid off him and stepped over to the window.
"Where are you going?" Alex whined, determined not to lose his entertainment. In response, Sugar gave three shrill whistles. She turned back to him.
"My friends will be up in a minute. They'll take care of you. I've got to go now." She said, pulling her dress back over her head.
She paused at the door to let her 'friends' in. "Evenin' Morgan. This the bounty hunter who gave you trouble?" The burly redheaded man said as he squeezed past 'Sugar' through the doorway.
"Was about to give me trouble." Sugar, or Morgan as she was now known to be smiled at her associate.
Alex looked up sharply, groaning as the ropes cut into his flesh. "Morgan? Morgan Delaney? But-but?.You're a woman!" He cried. Feeling utterly hopeless that he hadn't realized that the outlaw could be female. And that he'd been outwitted by her.
"Tell me something I don't know." Morgan replied sarcastically before slipping out the door. She met another of her men in the downstairs lobby.
"You did all this," Geoffrey muttered, "just to get rid of a bounty hunter?" he shook his head in amazement.
"To catch a bounty hunter." Morgan corrected. "I couldn't give away my secrets by leaving a body hanging around the streets now could I?" She added before striding out the swinging doors of the saloon. Behind her, she heard Billy calling 'Sugar' to come back. "Did you bring my clothes?" She asked her dark-haired accomplice.
Geoffrey nodded. "In the saddlebags."
"Good. Make sure you get rid of this one properly Geoff. I don't pay you to do nothing." The outlaw said as she swung up onto her horse and rode out of the town.
San Antonio, Texas 1862
The sun shines brightly on a Texan afternoon and it was shining brightly on this particular day. Its rays bounced off the white-washed buildings of the ranch and reflected in the clear blue water of the stream next to it.
It was the perfect day for fishing, if only the fish would bite that is. But it was also a good day for swimming and Michael Delaneys family proved that. Splashing in the icy water was heavenly for his three daughters, who had spent the past week helping to train the family's racer for the county races. They hadn't been much help in the long run though, more like a distraction. But it had been fun. The most fun that the family had had in months. The past year had been tough for them. First the deaths of their grandparents and then the loss of their baby brother. But things were looking up. They'd finally started to make some money now that cattle prices had gone up. Smiling over his daughter's head, Michael caught sight of his wife sitting on the grass, under an oak tree. She winked at him and then continued her sewing. They'd met when she was nineteen, and had been married for fourteen years. She was thirty-three now, but didn't look a day over twenty-one from a distance. But up close, you could see the lines of fatigue in her eyes from lack of sleep and the thin frown lines that seemed to have become more distinguished since the death of her parents.
Michael didn't have another chance to think about his wife, because at that moment, he felt two hands push his head under the icy water. Two other hands tugged at his legs and he plunged backwards. When he arose, his daughters stood giggling and even his wife managed a small smile. Michael threw back his head and laughed before making a lunge to tickle his nearest daughter, Isabelle. She was a fiery redhead who dreamed nothing more of settling down and having her own family. When her screams of laughter and protest had died down, Michael moved onto Susannah, his nine-year old princes, she too had his red hair which she wore in pigtails and a slight dusting of freckles across her nose. Finally, he attacked his youngest daughter Morgan. She was seven, although she talked like she was old enough to own the ranch and everything in it. She looked like her mother, with jet black hair and clear blue eyes, who knew what went on in her head. She giggled as he tickled her and then dunked her under the water. She came up spluttering and he couldn't help laughing again.
"Come along!" called his wife, Jessica, as she gathered up the picnic hamper and blanket from earlier on in the day. The girls began to get out and Michael couldn't resist giving them one last splash as he passed. "I don't know which of you is the worst!" exclaimed Jessica, but she smiled as she said it. He and Jessica continued to pack the food away and then got dressed messily. The girls wrapped towels around themselves before collecting their own clothes from underneath the tree. Then, they all began the walk back up to the ranchhouse, with the girls dancing and weaving through the trees, playing their own little game. Morgan watched her parents chatting at one point. She saw her daddy bump his hip against her mother and her mum's eyes seemed to light up like they did when the girls made her smile. Michael stopped to kiss her forehead before they continued up the path. From the trees, Susannah and Isabelle giggled again at their parents.
When they were almost home, Jessica nudged her husband. "Riders." She said, looking out over the horizon.
"Ok, you go on in and start dinner and I'll wait and see what they want, Jessie." Michael sighed, "and here I was hoping for a quiet evening with my family." Jessica gave another smile before disappearing through the door. Michael watched her go and then turned to see his daughters going about the very 'serious' business of feeding their various domestic pets. In particular, he watcher Morgan as she fed and cuddled her kitten, Rosa, and then he choked back a laugh as she tucked the cat into a box lined with one of his shirts and sang to it.
The girls were inside by the time the riders were over the hill, but they came back outside when they heard the horses.
"Evenin'." Michael greeted them.
"Evenin'." One replied, another nodded. There were four altogether and they were dressed in tattered clothes, apart from their stetsons which looked new. The first thing that Morgan noticed though was the embroidered saddle on which one of them sat. The horse was a fine animal too, dark with a white mane, an unusual combination. When the man saw Morgan looking, he winked, although the wink seemed evil to Morgan, who shivered despite her warm dress. "Think you could spare a few warm vittles sir?" asked one, who seemed to be the leader.
"We always welcome strangers in our home." Michael replied. He ushered them into the house after they had secured their horses.
"Who are you gentlemen?" Jessica asked a few minutes later when they appeared.
"I'm Jacob Daniels, this here's my brother Jake, that's Hank and that's Bobby, said the tallest of the four as they seated themselves around the table. Halfway through the meal, Michael asked what they were doing riding out here this late at night.
"Just passing through." The man named Hank replied.
"Think we could stay a night in your barn?" Bobby asked.
"I suppose so?"Jessica trailed off. Her husband glared at her but didn't say anything. "Darling, why don't you take them out now?" She went on. Michael nodded and the men stood up to follow him. Isabelle and her mother started to clear the table when a sudden scream filled the air.
"Run!" cried Jessica, she dived across the room to get the gun that hung over the fireplace. But she never made it. Jacob Daniels stood and grabbed a handful of Jessica's hair, pulling her back. Isabelle dived for cover under the table. Run! Her mother had said, so Morgan ran. She ran outside and was halfway across the yard when Susannah's screams ripped through the quiet night like knives and Morgan turned to look for her sister. Hank Daniels was dragging her behind his horse, her head bumping and crashing over the rocks. Then suddenly her screams were silent.
"No! Pa! Help!" Morgan screamed out. But then Jake Daniels was behind her.
"He can't even help himself sweetheart!" He growled. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face her large maple tree, that her grandfather had planted, and her father now hung from. He was standing on the top of one of the horses, his neck in a tight noose.
"No! Let him go! Let him go!" screamed Morgan, twisting until she felt the man's vice-like grip tighten even more.
"Let him go?" Jake asked questioningly. He shrugged. "Ok."
He whistled and the horse moved out from under Michael. As it did, the noose tightened and he hung suspended in mid-air. While he fought the hands of death, his back bent and he twisted backward. The suddenly he went limp and dangled down from the tree. Jake had held Morgan in place as this happened, not allowing her to move, but even if she had wanted to, she couldn't look away, her horror froze her to the spot.
"Jake, stop playing with that kid and get in here." Jacob called from the doorway of the house. In response, Jake grabbed Morgan's hair and hauled her back into the house, only to fling her in a corner. The three older brothers then proceeded to rape both her mother and sister while Bobby stood in a corner and smoked one of her father's cigars. Morgan closed her eyes and tried to shut it all out. The men laughed when they saw her.
"No witnesses, Jake. Just a few more raids and we'll be able to settle down. Kill the kid." Hank said.
"You got that right." Jake replied. He pulled out his pistol and shot first her mother then her sister. Then he turned to Morgan, aimed the gun at her chest and pulled back the trigger. As he did it, Morgan stared defiantly at him.
But Jake Daniels had missed the iron heart of Morgan and so as they left her burning home, she lay bleeding on the floor.
February 13th
Morgan awoke, sweating. She blinked once, then twice to accustom her eyes to the dim light. The dream had come back. The horrible dream that had plagued her on and off for years. She slid her legs around and slipped out of the sleeping bag. The leftovers of last night's campfire were still burning and she put a pot of water on to boil for coffee. There wasn't much left in her rations and so she would be glad to get back to a town, if only for some proper food. Around her, her men still lay asleep. She estimated it to be about four am, going by the light which shone little through the canopy of trees. There'd be time for a quick swim in the creek they'd made camp by before anyone else awoke if she was lucky. Just because her followers were men, didn't mean that she had to smell like them too.
The water was cool and slapped lightly around her ankles. From where Morgan stood in the creek, she was able to see the camp but knew her men couldn't see her. She slipped the calico nightshirt she wore to bed over her head and slipped further into the creek. Settling down, she sipped her coffee and washed herself slowly.
The men were beginning to wake by the time that she had dried and re-dressed herself in her jeans and boots. She pulled her shirt over her self and buttoned up a few buttons, tucking the rest into her jeans. Her hair, she pulled up on top of her head, pinning it and covering it with her hat. It was dangerous for a woman to be traveling on horseback, even with as many men as she had with her, and she didn't like people to learn her name until she knew there was no talking them out of a draw. Otherwise, they matched her name with her reputation and backed out. Of course, she couldn't leave them to tell everybody that the famous outlaw was a woman, so they usually ended up dead anyhow.
"Mornin' Morgan." One of her more friendly men said to her as she passed. She nodded slightly to indicate that she had heard him. Other men offered pleasantries as she passed back to her bedroll. Gathering her belongings, she began to stuff them inside a saddlebag. "I'll leave within the hour." She said loudly enough for the others to hear her.
"Where to?" Geoffrey asked, staring up at his boss.
"I'm going home. And I'm going alone. You all can do whatever you want, but we'll gather at the hideout on March 20th for the next job." She replied.
The men around her nodded in mutual agreement, of course, they wouldn't want to cross her. Many glanced nervously at each other. The last time Morgan had gone away, Darry, a now dead outlaw had gotten too big an ego and challenged Morgan's right to lead. His tragic life finished with a shootout in their mountain hideout, twelve men dying altogether.
Other men smiled, thinking of the wife and children they could visit during this well-deserved break. These jobs had taken up a lot of time lately, many being away from their families for up to six weeks. It was nothing new of course, Morgan had always demanded that work came first. And she was always quick to point out that if their minds weren't on the job at hand, then there was a larger chance that they would end up dead, and their friends in the jailhouse.
"Need an escort to the next town Morgan?" One of the men, a man named Robby asked. Morgan looked up from the saddlebags and stared at Robby, confused.
"Do I look like I need an escort?" She asked coldly. Robby backed away slightly.
"No?no-that wasn't what I meant at all?. It's just - just, well since we're goin' that'away?. I just thought?"
"I don't care what you thought." Morgan cut him off sharply. "I don't need any trouble, and if I ride with you, there's sure to be trouble."
"Sorry." Robby muttered, and after the glare he got from Morgan decided to shut up.
"So the great Wolf decided to take a break from the outlaw game did she?" A tall man said as he entered into the clearing. He had addressed Morgan by her alias and she glanced at him before turning back to her preparations.
"The great Wolf will howl once again when the time is right." Interrupted a close friend of Morgan's, an Indian by the name of Whitetail.
"And the time will be right on the 20th of March." Morgan said. The tall man snickered slightly and twisted the edge of his moustache between his fingers.
"Morgan, Morgan Morgan-" He began.
"I'm not so stupid that you have to say my name three times." Interrupted Morgan yet again.
The tall man's eyes narrowed. "Did I call you stupid?" He rushed on before he could be interrupted again. "I just think that we should go on now, hit the next town while the terror is still real."
Morgan turned her head, icy blue eyes staring almost straight through the man. "It sounds like you're challenging me there, Sacks."
"Wouldn't every man? I know what's right - "
"And you think I don't, is that right?" All the men present took a slight step back, knowing that they were ensured a fight now that Sacks had gotten Morgan worked up.
"I didn't say that,"
"You implied that."
"God damn it, Morgan! Don't twist my words!"
"Then don't question my orders."
"You know that I follow you."
"I want your complete loyalty, and insubordination is not on my list of favourite things."
"I was just saying that-"
No-one realised how fast Morgan had drawn on Sacks. But the next second, his dead body was sprawled across the remains of the fire, a bullet hole straight through the break in between his eyes. The terror still frozen on his face. The echos of the bang were still ringing in their ears when Morgan glared at them all once again.
"Anyone else want to question me?" She asked, her eyes narrowing at them.
There was a nod that circulated around the campsite, indicating that the argument was to be forgotten.
"Someone throw that into the creek. It'll float away." Morgan ordered, taking her saddlebags over to her horse. Three men stepped forward and picked up the dead body. With a practiced skill, they launched the corpse into the deeper end of the creek and some shuddered visibly at the thought of that happening to them.
Morgan ignored the insults towards the corpse and compliments on her accuracy. She looped the bridle onto her horse and began to arrange her bedroll and saddlebags behind the saddle. Her horse was a deep caramel colour, with a white mane and tail. Her name was Argo, named after the famous boat in the story her father had read her many years before. It was her way of staying in touch with her past while trying to sever ties with it at the same time.
She gave a quick whistle and noticed her own wolf come towards her. In its mouth, it carried a large bird which Morgan accepted gratefully and tucked into her bag for an evening meal. She patted Cleo behind her ears and then went to collect her blue dress from the tree on which she had hung it the night before. I was in pretty good condition and could probably be pawned in the next town. She had no use for it anymore. She let her fingers drift over the material softly. Wondering what could have been if -
No. It was no use dwelling on the past. It wasn't going to come back. She shook her head slightly and pulled her hat down a little further over her forehead. She looped the dress between the bedroll and saddle.
"Bye Morgan!" many called as she leaped onto the horse and kicked it into action. Their stoic leader graced them with a slight wave before she rode out onto the trail, her dark shirt billowing in the wind behind her.
It wasn't a very long ride into San Antonio, but it was a pleasant ride. Morgan let her senses drift along with the rest of the environment along her. The smell of violets was awfully strong and she breathed it in deeply, inhaling the strong aroma into her lungs. The leaves were crinkling against each other softly. Cleo trotted along happily beside her, running ahead every now and again then looking confused when Morgan refused to chase her.
Stupid wolf, Morgan thought fondly. The animal's large gray eyes never failed to amaze her and she found them almost hypnotic at times. She let her horse walk at its own pace, guiding her through rocky dips every now and again. At the Delta crossroads, she had taken one of the more used tracks in order to get to San Antonio a little quicker. There was less chance of her meeting anyone with a warrant for her arrest on the main tracks, as they naturally assumed that her gang would take the backroads. And there was an even lesser chance that they would know that she was a woman.
The name Morgan automatically made her sound like a man, and an alias like Wolf worked to her advantage too.
Morgan noticed Cleos ears prick up and a moment later she heard what had alerted her wolf. A scream rang through her ears again and she kicked Argo sharply to hurry her up. Using her ears and Cleo's senses for guidance, she navigated through a deep gully and a grove of thick threes onto another trail. Cleo darted ahead and Morgan hurried after her.
There was a carriage up ahead, slightly crooked as a wheel had obviously fallen off. Two men were under close surveillance by a man with a gun and another man was forcing a young woman to the ground, his intentions obvious.
Morgan slipped herself from the saddle and cocked her pistol in her holster so that it was ready to fire.
"Hey boys! Over here." She shouted, drawing the entire group's attention over to her.
"What?" One of the men asked.
"I want in on the fun too." Morgan replied stepping closer to them.
The man on guard spat at her but the other stood up and inched closer, readying his own pistol.
"Well, for a price, you can have this one when we're done." He said, indicating the woman hastily trying to cover herself.
"No, no, you misunderstood me. I want to have some fun with you." Morgan grinned.
A look of pure shock rippled across the man's face as he noticed the feminine features beneath the boy's clothes. The look was replaced with terror as Morgan hand suddenly held her pistol.
"Drop it." She hissed, indicating their guns with her spare hand. She stepped in, forcing the two men backward, guns now on the dusty ground. Unceremoniously, she hauled the woman to her feet and pushed her behind herself.
The men had their hands in the air and their former prisoners were looking very relieved at their 'saviours' arrival.
Morgan whistled for Argo who trotted over happily. She kicked the guns well out of reach of her new prisoners and reached for a coil of robe.
Ten minutes later, she had successfully embarrassed the men enough that she allowed them to leave, tied together, wearing nothing but their boots. The old man and his younger son found it hilariously funny, and the woman was sniggering, her mouth covered gracefully with her fingertips.
"Can you fix the wheel?" Morgan asked them.
"Yes, thank you, but you've done enough, we wouldn't expect you to help us anymore." The elder man answered.
"How can we repay you?" The younger man asked. Morgan brushed his comment aside with a toss of her head.
"I didn't help you for payment." She said. She watched as the younger man began to hook the wheel back onto the spokes, with the assistance of the elder man who gave directions louder than anyone she had never met.
Morgan covered her mouth to hide the laughter she was trying to quell down.
"No, not that way, you stupid boy, on the carriage, don't drop it. Hook it on, almost, try again. Let me help you?. No, you must learn to do this yourself. Put the damn thing on there." The old man was red in the face and panting as he yelled at his wheel-bearing son. The young woman was standing nervously to one side, but still trying to hide her giggles from the old man.
Morgan glanced at her, surprised that she had forgotten to see the girl after her fiasco with those men. She made her way over to her and took a closer look at the woman. Her hair was pulled up into a bundle of golden curls at the nape of her neck and her dress was a high-necked deep green, which Morgan noticed, matched the woman's eyes. The Wolf almost found herself drowning in those eyes, but pulled her gaze away and let her eyes drift over the woman's nose and down to her lips. She licked her own lips in appreciation. The young woman gazed up at her unashamedly.
"Thank you for rescuing me." She whispered.
"I'm sure you could have handled it on your own." Morgan drawled in a sexy Texas purr.
The woman glared at her as if she didn't find anything funny in the matter. She noticed Morgan's crooked smile and suddenly remembered her manners.
"I'm pleased to meet you." She politely said, her upbringing as a lady shining through that Morgan could almost picture a little blonde pigtailed girl practicing her manners with her dolls and teddy-bears during a tea-party.
"Oh, the pleasures all mine, miss??" Morgan replied, trying hard to remember how one should talk to a lady.
"Fairland. Candia Fairland." The woman replied. "And you might be?"
"That's not important."
"It is to me." The woman huffed, annoyed at being denied the courtesy of a proper meeting.
"Morgan." The great wolf relented, suddenly tired of arguing with this woman, with Sacks, or the rest of her men, with the whole world.
"Morgan?. Is there a first name to that?"
"Just call me Morgan."
She stepped away from 'Miss Candia Fairland' to check the saddle on her horse. Finding it secure, she pulled herself up onto the grand horse.
"You're leaving already?" Candia glanced up at the dark figure, shielding her eyes against the blazing sun.
"You don't need any more help do you?"
"No, I suppose not, but."
"Well, then I think I should go." Morgan glanced back at the woman as she shouted goodbye back over her shoulder. She tried to push all thought of the girl from her mind, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't forget those emerald eyes.
February 14th
San Antonio, Texas
Morgan sat at the saloon table, her shoulders hunched, regarding the patrons around her with distaste. The bartender was wiping out a dirty glass slowly. She took another drink of her whiskey, remembering the last saloon she was in. She choked back a sarcastic laugh when she remembered Billy.
The swinging doors opened yet again and a group of rowdy teenagers entered, most heading for the girls gathered around the bar trying to stir up some business.
Morgan gulped down the liquid again, feeling its fierce taste burning down the back of her throat.
"I said no!" A woman's voice called from the other side of the saloon. Morgan's eyelids flickered but she ignored the screeching until it got too much for her to bear. She pushed the stool back from the table and stood up. She flexed her legs before stepping over to the woman's aid.
"What's the problem?" She asked, although the question was directed at the man, the woman answered.
"This filthy man is trying to touch me!" She shrieked. Morgan glanced at the woman. She didn't look like the usual saloon girls. Recognition dawned on her. Yet again, she pushed Candia Fairland behind her and readied her pistol, just in case.
"If anyone hurts my sister, you're in for trouble." She said. Then turning, she grabbed Candia's elbow and steered her back to the corner table.
The man came up behind her, his stench overwhelming. Grimy fingers stretched out toward her neck. He didn't notice her long leg until her foot had pummeled firmly into his stomach. He fell backwards and into a poker game. The players hastily scrambled away. Morgan plucked her hat from her head and placed it onto the table, a few strands of hair falling loose over her forehead.
"Why, you little bitch!" The man stood, making a grab for a knife in his belt.
Cheered on by others around him, he made a move toward Candia's defendant. Morgan, meanwhile, smashed her now empty whiskey bottle across the table edge, shattering glass onto the floor and leaving a jagged edge on the remains of the bottle.
She held it up, taunting the man with her body language. He lunged, but once again she was too quick for him. The fight continued for a minute or so, The man getting a lucky scratch down Morgan's arm with the knife, ripping the heavy fabric of her shirt. He, meanwhile having quite a few bruises forming on his face and body.
"You can do better than that." She taunted him mercilessly. Without thinking, he dived for her legs, embedding his long knife in his own stomach as he crashed to the floor. Blood began to pour out of the wound.
The bartender stepped forward and gestured to Candia.
"Get your sister out of here and I won't get the sheriff." Candia looked at him, confused at first, then realising that he believed Miss Morgan to be her sister. Hastily, she made a beeline for the woman, picking her skirts up to step over the broken glass and tables.
"Goin' already?" Morgan asked, regarding the young woman thoughtfully.
"Yes, and I'm to get you out of here before you cause anymore trouble." Candia replied. Morgan pointed at herself innocently.
"If you hadn't gotten in trouble in the first place, then we wouldn't be here in the first place." Morgan pointed out.
"Look, I don't want to argue, let's go, please." Candia reached out to grab at Morgan's elbow, which the taller woman snatched back quickly.
"Don't touch me!" She said in a cold threatening.
Green eyes pleaded with her and once again she relented to their gaze. "Fine. I'll go." She stalked out, leaving the doors almost swinging off their hinges as she pushed through them.
With a sigh, Candia followed, wondering what the hell she was getting herself into. The old man and his son had gone their separate ways at the crossroads, leaving her alone in this city. If you could call it that. She noticed her saviour stalk across the street like a desert cat. Without thinking, she followed, if only to thank her. She noticed the wolf as she neared the beautiful horse and shrieked in horror.
Morgan turned, her pistol in her hand as if ready to save another damsel in distress. "What?" She asked.
Candia pointed at the wolf with fear. "Oh. Stop shrieking. You'll wake the whole town. What do you want?"
"To?to?thank you." Candia muttered softly, not taking her eyes off the animal.
"You have a damn bad way of showing gratitude." Morgan turned back to the horse, smoothing its mane over its shoulder.
"I'm sorry to have gotten you into trouble." Candia continued, but she could plainly see that the woman didn't care what she was sorry for.
She decided to try and invoke more conversation, for she found that she enjoyed this woman's sexy southern drawl. "Where are you going?"
"None of your business." The woman leapt onto her horse and pulled away, touching her hat respectively.
Disheartened, Candia headed back into the saloon.
"Your sister go?" The bartender asked. Candia shrugged noncommittally.
"Do you know of any places up for sale?" She asked.
The bartender looked thoughtful. "There's Mrs. Mac's cottage up the hill yonder, or the old Delaney house, out past town."
"What's that like?"
"Well, it ain't no place for a lady if that's what you're asking. Ever hear of the Delaney outlaw? Word is, he lived there and killed his family when he was ten. Some say that they haunt the place, and will until he's hung from the highest tree they can find." The bartender finished, proud that he could tell a local story to some tourists. "You interested in some work?" He asked, indicating what type of work she'd be doing by turning his attention to one of his girls swishing in a low cut pink dress.
"No. Thank you, I might just move on." Candia shrugged again and moved out into the fresh air to where the livery stables where.
After successfully buying a horse, she gained some directions to the Delaney place. If it was deserted, then nobody would mind her spending a night there. She fastened her small bundle of belongings onto the back of the horse and set off into the hills.
It didn't take too long to find her home for the evening. The sun set low against the hills, a million rays of red spread like a patchwork quilt. Like - home.
Candia could close her eyes and see it. The sprawling ranch. The horses and cattle and Peter, her beloved Peter. It never slept, that ranch, always busy, alert and always ready for trouble. And trouble came on a bright morning last January.
Peter was shaving, his face carved out of stone, like granite. His eyes would stare through you and out onto the ranch, studying what would come to him once he had married this little girl. Candia knew he hadn't loved her, he had loved money. But she had thought that she had enough love for both of them. He would smile at her when she tried to hug him, and in her teenage infatuation, Candia had mistook that for love. Her father needed a man to run things at the ranch and Peter had been an associate's son, and his daughter liked him, so there was not point in delaying the matter. Peter would allow Candia to watch him as he shaved, his hand guiding the gliding razor up over his chin and around his cheeks, concentrating all the time. Shots had rang out. Peter had rushed into the courtyard, half dressed to find out the commotion. Jake Daniels, a neighbour was stirring up the cattle and shooting his gun high into the air. A shot went wild and hit Peter in the chest. He died ten minutes later.
Candia had been sent to a convent, her thoughts occupied only by Peter. She was no good to anyone like this. Even less help on a farm
Each student had a small room at the convent, a small bed, a chest, a candle and a bowl of water. Elegance and privacy were not on the convent curriculum and the rooms had no doors. Just a hole in the wall for one to duck under. Even studying was done under supervision. As if they were going to chest with the homework and bargain with the devil for the answers. For the most part, they were sinners in need of curbing, and an awful lot of forgiveness.
No-one had noticed when she had run away. Four nights ago now. There was probably a search out for her now. The old man had been kind in allowing her to travel with him to San Antonio. Candia didn't know where to head. All she could think was that she had a manic need to find Jake Daniels and bring him to justice.
She realized now that she hadn't loved Peter as much as she should of, but the thought of his murderer still on the loose chilled her to the bone. All she had now was this horse, a few coins and the three dress and cloak on the back of the horse, as well as her undergarments and mothers pearls.
The old house was set low against a small grove of trees and, now very tired, Candia forced her way through the broken door, pushing the logs away from the door and wishing it didn't smell so bad. Beggars can't be choosers, she reminded herself. She found some straw in the corner and formed a makeshift bed, too superstitious to sleep in the bed in what seemed to be the bedroom of one or two little girls. As far as she could see, there was no proof of a boy ever living there, so she began to doubt the story the bartender had told. There was a small fireplace against a wall and a table in the centre of the main room.
Eating a little of her rations, Candia bundled her other clothes under her head and pulled her cloak over her, reluctant to light a fire in this musty house. She fell asleep almost before her head touched her makeshift pillow.
February 15th
It was early morning before Morgan finally got around to riding out to her old home. She had ridden around near the creeks for hours. Impatient to know what she would find at home. It was funny, but she still thought of it as home, even though the Daniels brothers had torn that from her years ago. She supposed it was because she had never had another home. The best she had was a small cabin in the gang's mountain hideaway.
She knew that she had to go home to renew her vendetta for revenge against the Daniels brothers. For years, she had practiced with a gun, making herself better and better and carving herself a reputation so that she felt prepared when she went up against them. But she didn't feel prepared, she felt empty. Now was her chance to go after them. She had called a break of over a month from her men, what she thought to be enough time now that she had finally found where some of the brothers were. Hank and Jacob Daniels were apparently in between jobs at the moment, spending their money on skirts in a little town in central Texas named Jemin.
She was approaching the house now, a dark blur against the early morning light. The door was open and she pushed it back, stepping to the musty room that she grew up in, the sweet smells of years-old mould flowing through her nostrils, flaring in her stomach and causing her to cover her mouth momentarily to force her stomach to be calm.
Off to her right was a room her parents had shared, then the kitchen was off to one end. Her room that she shared with her sisters was on the left, and she remembered fondly the fights that would occur over who would sleep in the trundle bed tucked under one of the other beds. There was a bundle of hay in one corner and what looked like a colourful bunch of rags on top. Morgan turned her attention back to the house. There were still some dishes in the sink. Things that hadn't been taken by raiders or undeserving 'relatives'.
The rags moved and Morgan turned sharply. She approached the bundle, reaching out with one hand to probe at the shoulder she could now see forming. Sure enough, there was a body there, and it was very much alive.
"What do you want?" She demanded, shaking the body violently. Emerald eyes opened and regarded her slowly. Oh, god damn, not again.
"Get up." She hissed, tugging the girl to her feet. Her dress was dishevelled and her hair tumbled out around her shoulders. There were crease marks from where the hay had imprinted in her and she looked awful.
"What are you doing here?" Morgan demanded. Candia shrugged and covered a yawn that escaped her mouth with her hand.
"The guy said that it was deserted. I thought?. I thought?" She trailed off and looked away.
"Well, he was right, it is empty, but it's my empty house and I don't appreciate you coming in unannounced." Morgan said, then hated herself for being so sharp with this girl who looked like she'd been through hell herself this week. What do you know, Morgan thought, I've got a heart after all. She reached out and tilted the girls chin with her hand so that she could look at her eyes. "You hungry?"
The girl nodded eagerly. "Then go get yourself washed up and I'll see what I can do. There's a pump in the backyard." Or at least she hoped there was, who knows what might have happened since she was last here. Candia hurried out. She had expected a verbal lashing, and had been surprised at how gentle the other woman's touch was when she looked into her eyes. She found the pump with no problems and hurriedly pumped it, causing a spluttering of water and grime. The water eventually ran clear and she washed all the body parts she could see.
When she was done, she headed back to the house and was surprised to see that, true to her word, Morgan had some kind of meat cooking over a small fire. There was a pot of coffee too and she licked her lips hungrily.
"Could I?use the bedroom?. to, um, change?" Candia asked hesitantly.
Morgan looked up and nodded. "The door should close on that one." She pointed to her old room and Candia disappeared, clean clothes in hand. She dished some meat and a thick slice of bread onto her plate and poured some coffee into her mug for the young woman. She picked her own meat of the skewer and put it in her mouth. God damn it was hot! She took a long swig of water from her canteen and leaned back in her chair to eat the rest of her meal. The coffee was strong and thick, just the way she liked it, but Candia wrinkled her nose when she took a tentative sip. The girl looked more human now. Clad in a loose fitting lilac dress, and a white overshirt, she had surprised Morgan when she appeared in the doorway.
"What type of meat is this?" She asked, digging into the food as if it were her last meal.
"You don't want to know." Morgan replied, and sniggered when she saw the other woman's face.
They ate in silence for a few more minutes before Candia looked up again. "Do you really live here?"
"I used too." Came the answer, "I put it up for sale."
"So where do you live?"
"None of your business." Morgan replied, her face stone cold.
Candia happily chattered on. "I don't have a home now. Well I do, but I would never go back there. Not after Peter, well?. lets just say that I've got to kill Jake Daniels first, although.-"
"Jake Daniels?" Morgan looked up.
"Yeah." Candia shrugged once more, "you know him?"
"Kind of."
"So you know where he is?"
"Kind of."
"Can you take me to him?
"Nope."
Candia stopped, she regarded the older woman who was thoughtfully looking out the window. Morgan noticed the girl watching her out of the corner of her eye. "Why do you want Jake Daniels?" She asked.
Candia swallowed, hard. "He killed my fiance. I want to murder him."
Morgan regarded the petite blond. There was a fire in her eyes. She wanted revenge, though it would probably kill her to get it.
"You've never harmed a fly in your life have you?"
Candia shook her head sorrowfully.
"Then you sure as hell haven't shot a gun have you?"
Once again Candia shook her head. Morgan nodded, a sly smile on her face. "Well, good luck."
She turned back to her coffee, the conversation obviously closed. She was getting a headache looking at Miss Candia Fairland. She wanted to take her in her arms and comfort her. It was a strange fleeting feeling.
"I suppose I had better get going." She said, swigging the dregs of her drink.
"Where're you heading?"
"El Cuego." Morgan answered, hoping to throw this girl of her track.
"No you're not."
Morgan turned back to the woman. "And why not?" She glared.
"Because El Cuego's that way, and you just came from town, therefore you're heading out to Dulce and those little border towns."
Morgan smiled. The girl had her there.
"Well it's no business of yours anyway." She walked out into the sunshine again. Argo was waiting patiently by the fence and she gave a quick whistle for Cleo.
"Nice dog." Candia said as Cleo approached, although she took two steps back.
"She's not a dog." Morgan growled, pulling herself up into the saddle. She was about to kick Argo into action when Candia's question made her stop.
"Daniels hurt you too, didn't he?"
"How did you know?" Morgan growled, her voice cold and low, like it formed in the back of her throat.
"I'm not stupid." Again that shrug.
"Yeah, well-"
"I know, I know, its no business of mine." Candia retreated back inside to get her belongings. When she stepped back out, she could she Morgan riding back up the valley. On an impulse, she climbed aboard her own horse and decided to follow her.
"You can come out now." Morgan could sense that the woman was behind her, moving in the trees. She knew that Candia had followed her through the valley. But she just told herself that the girl would turn off at the next track?. or the next. It was about seven o'clock now. The sun had set over an hour before. Morgan had a little campsite set up. She'd already eaten, but had left some meat for the woman she knew would soon turn up. Cleo had hungrily devoured the rest. She had followed her usual routine of finding a site downwind and safely hidden by trees so that she could have a campfire.
Sure enough, the woman stepped out from behind a tree. "You're not going to kill me?"
"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already." Morgan smiled despite herself.
Candia stepped around so the she was facing Morgan.
"I had to come around. I can't catch food, and my fire died, and I never noticed how cold it gets and-"
She began but was interrupted by Morgan yet again.
"I was expecting you. I saw you behind me all the way. I should have stopped you sooner I suppose. Have something to eat. I swear that you would starve if I didn't keep feeding you."
Candia sat down and began to eat as if Morgan would change her mind. "So, where are you heading?"
"Jemin. And you're not coming."
"Please?"
"No way."
Candia paused, then intent to work around Morgan's refusal of her company, she moved onto another topic.
"What do you do?"
"What?"
"What's your occupation?"
"I'm a gunfighter." Morgan meant to scare the woman, but her answer didn't even faze her. It was like she wasn't even listening.
"I'm a storyteller."
"You do that for a living?" Morgan was amazed.
"No. I do it because I enjoy it. People pay me because they enjoy it too."
"Tell me a story then?"
"Say please." Candia instructed. Morgan frowned and Candia decided not to push the subject.
"In a land a gods, warlords, and kings, a time in turmoil cried out for a hero?"
Her voice went on, leaving Morgan elated as she heard all about the adventures of a warrior and her little sidekick. Although Candia stressed that the word was companion, not sidekick.
At the end of the story, Morgan asked lots of questions, including why there weren't any gods anymore among others. It was the most talkative Candia had seen her.
"What about that round killing thing?" She asked.
"Chakram."
"Bless you. Well, where did that?. that Xena get it from?"
"I don't know. But my father told me that story, and his father before him. I've just always heard about them." Candia smiled. "I wish I had one."
Morgan nodded thoughtfully.
"I like my gun better though." And she took the gun out of its holder and lovingly caressed the handle, her fathers initials engraved in it, the same as hers.
Candia watched the older woman thoughtfully. There was hardness there, a barrier that she felt she didn't have the strength to break. Something had happened in the woman's past to make her like this.
Her eyes suddenly felt droopy and she put her head down on the bedroll. Morgan remained sitting stoically against the tree, casually looking in Candia's direction.
Eventually she slept, although she had promised herself that she wouldn't, if only to protect her - the girl.
February 16th
"Wake up sleepyhead. Its time to go hunting."
"Hunting? You must be joking."
"You want to eat don't you?
Morgan gave Candia's shoulder another shake and then stood up. She tied her belt and whistled for Cleo. Candia jumped up quicker than Morgan had seen her move and backed up against the tree.
"She's not going to hurt you." Morgan whispered.
Candia nodded. "I?I just?don't have a way with animals."
Morgan shrugged and tackled her pet to the floor. Cleo jumped up and down, licking Morgan's face until both she and Candia burst out laughing.
"Come on, let's get this packed up." Morgan said, still laughing. Quickly, they packed up their camp, Morgan laughing at Candia's attempt to roll her bedroll, in the end, the more experienced woman had to help her out.
"What about breakfast?" Candia asked when the horses were packed and ready to go. Morgan shrugged, she didn't believe in food in the morning, but this woman always seemed to be hungry.
"There's some nutbread in my saddlebag." Candia licked her lips expectantly. Morgan eyed her, one eyebrow raised, giving her a sarcastic quizzical look. Candia smiled and looked away.
After Candia had eaten her fill, Morgan led the way back onto the main track, both women leading their horses.
"See that tree?" Morgan asked at one point, pointing to a large tree with beautiful white flowers on the branches.
Candia nodded. "Isn't it beautiful?" she breathed, spellbound by the tree.
"It's a weed." Morgan stated, causing Candia to turn quickly to look at her. "And if you give the flowers to someone, it's like a death warrant." Candia turned away.
They walked in silence for a while, Candia trying to match the length of Morgan's strides. Eventually, they tired and rode the horses at a trot. Cleo bounded along behind them, occasionally bringing a dead animal to Morgan. At one point, she decided that Candia needed a present and dropped a dead squirrel at the younger woman's feet.
By late evening, they had a makeshift camp set out near a small creek. "How do you survive without washing everyday?" Candia jokingly asked Morgan. Morgan shrugged and looked like she didn't give a damn about what she looked like.
Morgan began to slip out of her jacket. She shrugged her shirt off her shoulders and began to unfasten her belt. "Coming in?" She asked. Candia looked away too scared to look at the older woman.
"Actually?. I don't think that that's a very good idea." Candia began, "I'll just go get some more wood."
Morgan laughed. "But we just got wood!"
Candia blushed, the colour spreading from her cheeks to her ears in seconds. For once in her adult life she felt stupid, or maybe she blushed she was in the presence of such a beautiful, naked woman.
"You know how to swim, right?" Morgan said carefully. Candia nodded. "Well, what's wrong?"
"I'm not a great swimmer... and the water's so dark..." Candia stared off, not meeting Morgan's eyes.
"Hey, I'm not gonna let you drown you know!" Morgan said sarcastically.
"It's not that?." Candia said.
"Well what is it then?" Morgan demanded, losing her patience.
"When I was a kid, I snuck out of the house late one night and went swimming with some other kids. We were playing around and one dunked me under, and I couldn't breathe - and it was so dark - and there was no light at all - I thought that I was going to drown!" Candia sentences began coming in gasps as she remembered the terror she had felt. "I started to panic and tried to go up - but it turns out I was heading for the creek bottom. Morgan, I almost drowned."
Morgan reached across to the woman, a fleeting feeling of pity passing through her veins. She pulled the young woman into her arms. Candia rested her head on the bare breast and felt her sobs subsiding. Why was it that this woman scared her and fascinated her too?
"I can see why you don't like swimming in the dark." Morgan said. Candia felt the muscles in Morgan's jaw move as she smiled. She sniffled loudly and reached to wipe her eyes. "I didn't mean to bring up memories."
Candia stiffened and pulled herself away. Noticing the other's nakedness for the first time. Morgan's body was tanned and lithe. She reminded Candia of the panthers she had seen in books. Sleek and fearless. She dragged her eyes up the body to meet Morgan's eyes, one eyebrow raised yet again.
One word rushed through Candia's head. Repeating over and over. Naked, naked, naked. Now getting naked with this woman sounded like fun. Candia gasped. What was she thinking? A well-brought up woman didn't think about things like that. But swimming meant getting na- getting undressed. And getting close to each other when one was scared. Amazingly, nakedly
Candia took a step backward and looked away.
But, no matter what her brain said, Candia found herself saying, "Maybe I could paddle about a bit with you though."
Morgan smiled.
"But will you stay with me? Not leave me at all?" She asked.
Morgan smiled again, "Where am I going to go? Do you see a saloon around here?" Candia smiled back at the woman.
Candia slipped out of her now ratted dress. Morgan noticed that she hadn't hidden herself behind a tree, so she mustn't be afraid of her body like so many women were.
"Are you sure?" Morgan asked. Her breath seemed to be leaving her lungs too quickly. She felt like she wasn't getting enough air. Candia was as petite as she had felt in her arms. She was struggling with the back of her makeshift corset and Morgan bit back a laugh as she watched her try to reach the strings.
"May I?" She asked. Without waiting for the answer, she stepped behind Candia and unlaced the offending clothing.
"You're good at that." Candia said, looking over her shoulder as Morgan's fingers moved quickly through the laces.
"I got a lot of practise." Morgan said. Candia didn't know what to interpret that as. Her breasts found their freedom and Morgan laced her fingers together to stop herself from reaching out to cup one. She realised that she couldn't breathe now at all.
She turned away and concentrated on undoing her pants. That's it fingers, keep moving, one button, two buttons?. I wonder how many buttons on her dress? Morgan bit her tongue and tried to concentrate on the pain. Would Candia bite my tongue? Stop it!
She stepped out of the pants and turned to see Candia standing completely naked before her. She tried to keep her eyes above the girl's neck, but noticed that Candia's gaze was openly caressing her body and she risked a glance to the lower regions.
"Come on." She smiled, startling her travelling companion out of her reverie.
Candia looked away, embarrassed at being caught looking. She followed Morgan to the creek edge where her fears came back immediately.
"I? I..can't." she cried, taking a step back. Morgan stepped out of the water and reached her hand out.
"I won't let you get hurt." She said firmly.
Candia looked up. Her eyes sparkling with terror. Funny, I usually enjoy that look on people's faces.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Candia took the proffered hand and moved in closer. She gasped as the cold water splashed back onto her feet. Gathering a little courage, she moved in a little more, happy in the knowledge that Morgan was there to help her.
She let go of the hand and swam out a few yards. Morgan followed her with her eyes and then dived in after her. Swimming swiftly along the creek bed before coming up for air near Candia's lithe form.
"Ok?" She asked quietly.
Candia nodded. She began to tread water, careful not to come to close to the other woman.
The pair floated about for a while. Talking absently about where they were headed, although Candia refused to talk about or even mention Jake Daniels. Eventually. She stood up in the shallow water, shivering as the cold wind hit her.
"Cold?" Morgan asked. Candia nodded. "We'd better get some sleep. Big ride ahead of us." Yet again she diverted her attention to a tree, choosing not to look at her companion.
"I'm freezing." Candia shivered again.
"Get into your bedroll." Morgan suggested, "I'll relight the fire."
Candia climbed into the blankets obediently and watched as Morgan wrapped a towel around her self and then proceeded to go about her usual duty of rekindling the fire and stoking the embers until the flared up again.
Candia was asleep by the time Morgan settled herself into her own bedroll. She counted 237 horses jumping fences before she finally fell asleep with Cleo at her side. Each horse had its own naked figure on the top.
February 17th
When Candia awoke, there was a distinct smell of fish in the air. She opened both eyes and looked around. Morgan was standing over the fire, a small fry pan in her hands. She was frowning at something and looked comical compared to the other persona that Candia had seen the most of over the past few days.
Candia sat up, and watched, Morgan sensed the movement and greeted her without turning around. Cleo bounded over to settle herself next to Candia who moved away slightly but reached out to pat the wolfs head.
"It'll be better if we put all out stuff on one horse and both ride the other." Morgan said, directing more attention at the fish, but she didn't miss the surprised look that passed over Candia's face but disappeared a moment later.
"Whatever." Candia shrugged, her mouth watering at the smells already. Her nose savoured every scent and she licked her lips in anticipation.
"Argo can carry us both, and - "
"When will that be ready?" Candia interrupted.
"Five minutes." Morgan shrugged. "You might as well get dressed." Candia looked down and noticed that her clothes didn't seem to be on her body. She pulled the blanket around her and slipped behind a tree to ready herself, quite sure that undressing in the dark was quite different to dressing in the daylight.
When she had dressed and rebraided her thick golden hair, She emerged and began to store her belongings away.
Morgan served the fish up onto a plate for Candia and headed off to attend to the horses. That was really nice of her, thought Candia savouring the taste of the fish, she doesn't even eat breakfast yet she got up to make me some. Her thoughts were distracted by juices running down her hand. Morgan walked back into the clearing and smiled at the sight of Candia desperately trying to lick juice from the back of her hand.
She approached her and knelt, completely forgetful about who she was dealing with. She reached for Candia's hand, which Candia allowed to be brought up to Morgan's face level. She looked on, surprised and awestruck, as Morgan carefully lapped the offending juices from the back of her fingers. Her tongue darted in and out to leave the hand feeling cleaned. Morgan looked up and noticed what she had done, almost embarrassed at such an erotic display. She dropped Candia's hand quickly as if she had been burned.
"Sorry." She muttered before stalking off again.
Nothing was said between the two until they were ready to go.
Morgan lead the way to the horses, Candia's loaded up with their provisions and bedrolls. Morgan looked thoughtfully at Candia for a moment. "You first." She finally said.
Candia laughed nervously. "How are you going to get on with me in the way?"
"You won't be in the way. You're riding in front."
Candia's mouth gaped open for a moment and then she gathered her wits and nodded.
Grabbing the saddlehorn, she put a foot in the stirrup and hauled herself onto the big mare's back.
Morgan watched the smaller woman move in appreciation. She grabbed hold of the saddle herself and pulled herself up and over, wrapping an arm around Candia's waist and pulling her close. Reaching around, she took the reins and checked that the other horse's reins were secured onto the back of Argo's saddle.
They rode in silence for a while, both still surprised at what had happened that morning.
Morgan held onto Candia's waist securely as the younger woman was jostled all over the saddle.
"I'll go a little faster." Morgan said, close to Candia's ear.
"No!" the young woman cried out.
"But it'll be smoother." Morgan protested.
Candia shook her head violently.
Morgan ignored the protests and pushed her spurs into Argo's back, moving the horse into a canter and then a gallop. Candia cried out and gripped onto the saddle horn like it was protecting her from death. She soon realised that she didn't like riding?any kind of riding?especially not in front and having no control over the beast of a horse.
The outlaw wrapped her arm further around Candia and pulled her even closer. "Relax," she whispered. "Don't fight my motion, move with it. Trust me. Relax against me." Candia leaned back slightly and closed her eyes. The rocking seemed to become gentler and she found herself thinking about the rocking horse she had as a kid. The one that her grandfather had made her. Tears sprung to her eyes as she remembered the day that she had finally broken it, and the heartbreak she had felt when her grandfather hadn't been there to fix it. He had died the previous autumn.
Morgan noticed the tears and tried to cuddle the girl. It was only a few minutes later that she realised that she could cuddle Candia all she wanted, the girl had fallen asleep.
Dulce was the main border town. It consisted of a small town centre including a market place and then scattered houses out for miles, including a few small farms. Candia and Morgan rode in atop Argo. The other horse, which Candia had appropriately named Chocolate due to its colour, trotted along behind. A few old men sitting on a verandah looked up, but otherwise no one paid any attention to them.
Morgan headed for the saloon, noticing that Candia followed her through the swinging doors.
"Morgan."
The woman in question turned at the sound of her name. Behind her stood a burly man with a long slightly greying beard. "Ah. It is you. And you have come with a friend so I see."
Candia stared at the man questioningly. But Morgan recognised him right away, he had ridden on many of her raids and been like a father figure to her for a few years. She willed him silently not to give her away.
But no such luck. "How do you feel travelling with the Wolf, young lady?" Zebra addressed Candia. Candia looked very confused for a moment before realisation dawned. She now knew why Morgan wouldn't tell her her last name.
"You - you're the outlaw?" She asked. Her voice loud and clear despite the somersaults her stomach was performing. Without waiting to answer the question, Morgan spun about and marched out of the saloon, Candia watched dejectedly.