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Northern Colorado, 1883</b><br/><br/>A lone figure crouched amidst the gently swaying swaths of feather grass. Dark, flinty eyes gazed hard upon the barren ground with penetrating intensity, fixed immobile and as inflexible as the dangerous man who judged what and who had passed before his arrival. The topics under his study – snapped blades of grass, broken shards of sandstone, compacted dust from a hoof – would be missed by the ordinary who frequented the artery trail. The low, grumble of distant thunder issued its challenge; the bounty hunter persisted without concern.<br/><br/>Wade Tillman had been tracking his quarry for the last eight days, and every new day bridged the distance between them with varying degree – the sudden torrent five days earlier threatened to erase all signs of their passing, forever dashing his chances of catching the thieves. The desperate cadre – a quartet of men and horses – carried a princely sum of pure gold coins in their saddle bags. It was enough money to build a new town wherever the men decided to stop. But, the men did not stop – they persisted themselves, moving north by northwest from the Archer City, Texas bank they cleaned out in the middle of the night. The job was flawless, and the guard in the bank lobby claimed to have heard nothing. The lawmen were inclined to believe the liar, and Wade told them as much – labeling the guard an accomplice; no functionary bank sentry wore silver spurs – before being forced out to chase his marks and march into the unforgiving desolation of the High Texas Desert.<br/><br/>The route the four men chose struck Wade as unusual for a number of reasons, not the least of which were the deliberate departures from the main path. Each deviation exhibited a purpose, avoiding a derelict town or stretch of rocky, uneven road. Whoever led the rabble knew where he was going and had traveled the path enough times to gain a preternatural familiarity with the terrain and hazards. Veering from the trail might have confused and frustrated lesser trackers, but Wade was not one to be dismissed by such callow tactics. He had been paid a royal mint to find the men and retrieve the gold coins, and Wade was a man who always saw his jobs through to the end. His assurance drew stock less from his self-confidence than the suspicion that – sooner or later – the four men would slip up and make a mistake.<br/><br/>Wade looked skyward, spotting three vultures circling over a nearby<i>rodero</i>. He made his way across the short plain to the plateau summit, finding his prediction correct as the body of a dead man came into view. Three feathered spears stood upright at varying angles from his chest, his brown shirt a sickening saturated crimson from the dried blood. The Mexican’s eyes started into the sun, blank and lifeless, his fingers loosely curled about the grip of his revolver. Wade wove through the virtual forest of spears that carpeted the<i>mesa</i>, their feathers softly swaying in that gentle breeze. An Indian ambush had clearly occurred, and Wade checked his surroundings, filled with caution at his sudden exposure. The horizon clear, Wade took to examining the battle scene. He tilted his head as he surveyed the ground, finding multiple shell casings of differing caliber, noting their location to compile a montage of the conflict, the actors, and their fates. Heaps of Colt cartridges arrayed themselves in distinct piles for two of the thieves, while one used a break-action Schofield that spit the spent casings in a ring near the defender. Four horses scuffed about the battle ground, probably spooked from the incessant gunfire like deafening raindrops.<br/><br/>The mid-day heat felt like thermal punishment on that<i>mesa</i>top.<i>What I wouldn’t give for some cover and a flask of fresh water,</i>he thought<i>. </i>Men of the range rarely received what they wished for, instead settling for what meager scraps of sustenance life tossed their way. The bandido’s water flask had already been taken by his companions, so Wade claimed his ammunition in compensation. Though heavy at time, its encumbrance felt especially in the sun, having ammunition changed a man’s fate when bullets began to fly. Not a religious man, Wade took it as an omen that the .45 caliber cartridges on the dead man’s bandolier matched his own Colt Army revolvers. He studied the corpse for a moment, taking note of a .38 caliber hole in the man’s poncho.<br/><br/><br/>“And, then there were three,” Wade muttered to himself. He stood, horse rein in hand, and marched with stalking grace toward the dark, truculent thunderhead.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>“So. Ya know, Clyde … Sonny and I were talking.”<br/><br/>A bearded man in a white cavalry jacket looked up slowly from the brisk fire, his eyes daring them to continue. “That’s ominous,” he said. His voice rang strong and clear, though uttered in a churlish tone.<br/><br/>“We was talking,” he continued, “about getting out with our money.”<br/><br/>The bearded man stood and flung the bear knife he used to whittle wood shavings into the soft mud. His eyes narrowed in murderous intolerance, but with the patience of a killer. “Josiah Longwood … you disappoint me. YOU KNOW that we’re supposed to get this money to the exchange safe and sound.” He tilted his head by a degree, including Sonny in his gaze. “You’re not yellow … are ya?”<br/><br/>“Course not!” Josiah exclaimed. “We didn’t sign up for Comanches, though.”<br/><br/>“Well, I didn’t invite them, and I can hardly be blamed for gettin’ bushwacked by those redskins. They acocked us all.”<br/><br/>“Try telling that to Paca,” Josiah intoned, surly.<br/><br/>Clyde shrugged. “Paca forgot to duck. He bit the ground so we three could ride onward.” He turned back to the fire, squatting to warm his calloused hands. A shallow stream bubbled behind them, and a stand of willow trees offered them precious canopy. “We’re just a few days out from the meeting point. We’ll reach Olmstead tomorrow and lose one of these horses. That oughta make our lives a touch easier.” Shiftily, he looked back toward the two bandits. “What do you both say to that?”<br/><br/>“I say we get extra money,” Josiah said. “Without Paca, that’s a pair of reliable guns gone in case we run into trouble.”<br/><br/>Looking at the flickering flames, Clyde chuckled noiselessly, his tongue running along the front of his teeth. “Extra money, eh?” he asked, standing. He stretched his arms to either side, pushing his lean chest forward. “I suppose that’s only fair. Besides, Paca’s portion of the money should go somewhere, right?” The darkness obscured the murderous, gleeful glint in Clyde’s eyes. “Why don’t you both fetch that whiskey from Paca’s horse and we’ll drink on it.”<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The willow stand stood as a morbid oasis, sheltering the two dead bandits in its eroded depression. The rushing water helped bleed the men dry, carrying their crimson downstream until it became nothing more than a trickle. Both men faced one another, guns pointed toward the other. The daft might have fallen for the ruse – that the desperate men drew simultaneously and murdered the other in a cruel twist of fate; its latent poetry mocking: Violence, to Greed, to Death ignoble.<br/><br/>Wade’s mind, however, painted a different picture. He lifted a red, woven handkerchief up over his face to mask the waxing scent of death from the men. Each held a Colt .45 – just like their Mexican<i>compadre</i>. The stick in Wade’s hand prodded to test the size of the wound in the men’s chests. The bloody holes were .38 caliber, and both were<i>exit wounds</i>. That meant that these men were shot from behind. The erratic lines marked in the silica hard-pan from their heels being dragged into position corroborated Wade’s suspicions. He counted the horse prints made heavy from their gold freight, still finding four.<br/><br/><i>That’s a haul of gold for one man</i>, Wade thought.<br/><br/>Wade led his horse to the water, upstream from the men. “Drink up, Dusty,” he said. The horse bowed down and lapped up that clear water as Wade spread a map on its hind-quarters. Scrubby wasteland lay to the west and beyond, and there was little sense in heading east to Cheyenne when a more direct route would have sufficed. A single town caught Wade’s attention, and offered a logical conclusion amidst the days of scrutiny and conjecture.<br/><br/>Wade tugged the reins unkindly, tearing the horse from his afternoon drink. The beast neighed unhappily. “Quiet, ya big baby,” Wade scolded. “Town’s up ahead. We reach there and you’ll get a roof over your head and hay.” Mounting quickly, Wade set Dusty to a swift gallop, hoping to overtake the thief before he reached Olmstead. Money always found a way of falling through one’s fingers at Saloons and Cat Houses – dice, whiskey, and pretty legs enticed like little else could when surrounded by desolate grasslands. The need for minute tracking was over; Wade knew where his quarry was holed up.<br/><br/>There was one town in line with where his Schofield-wielding opponent was headed.<br/><br/>A town called Olmstead.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
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</div></div><br/><br/>Josephine Rose Bryson was a small, young woman with dreams and visions that went beyond her gender role and the time she had been born upon. Ever since she'd been little, she had questioned the world and everything within it. Her mama had teased the girl that every grey hair that was showing on her head was the result of trying to provide a solid enough answer to an out-of-the-blue question from her daughter. 'And what of papa's white beard and hair?' had been the following question from the girl, leaving the older man in question to grunt like a bear with something akin to amusement. 'I reckon that came from answering your mama's questions.' would he then answer, his mustache twitching suspiciously at the scowl from his wife.<br/><br/>Oh, those days of carefree childhood seemed so far away. The older Jo got, the more difficult and probing her questions got, and the less answers she received. Which was in no way fair in her opinion. And that was probably exactly why she found herself riding alone, sneaking away from her family to do what she thought was right.<br/><br/>A light breeze brushed against her skin. Dawn was upon them, there was finally light enough for her to be able to ride Lady without worrying about the buckskin mare falling or stepping on a rattler. Effortlessly, the female swung into the saddle and gathered the reins. A click of her tongue sent the horse to a slow canter. The day might be young but she had a long way to go and the rustlers had far too much of a headway as it was.<br/><br/>Stay humble and kind, don't ask unnecessary questions and don't be too forward. Those were the words a woman was supposed to live by. Words that Jo spat upon and refused to acknowledge. It hurt her to know that her thoughts oftentimes caused her parents a heartache, but she couldn't very well just sit around and be a pretty wallflower while shriveling up on the inside, now could she? But no matter how she tried to, the young female could not quite justify her latest decision; of going alone to track down the rustlers that had killed her brother in cold blood a year ago. Her heart still ached at the memory of his laid back smiles and the warmth of his voice when he'd be explaining things to her. Jo thought she'd die a thousand deaths when no one was put to justice for the horrendous crime, but just a month ago they seemed to have returned.<br/><br/>Of course, this could be a whole new gang of rustlers trying to raise some hell, but people still believed them to be same simply because of their methods. Cowhands got killed, the number of cattle taken were outrageous - like this band of bad eggs had no care in the world about any consequences at all. Which in itself only managed to raise some questions: Like what kind of a force stood behind such a fearless band of rustlers?<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Jo, being sick and tired of the men around her not doing anything, had decided to take it upon herself to answer that question. She would find where they were hiding out, lead the law to them and then they would all be getting the answers needed. And justice would be served. Only problem was, her tracking skills were that of a novice. Sure enough, she could ride and shoot like a man. She could also spit and curse like a man and strut around like she owned the world, just like a man. But there were limits to what she could learn before her parents would find out her secret. Her papa probably had his suspicions, but Jo's mama proved to be a bit too ready in believing that her daughter was a well behaved little lady. The female's manly attributes were all thanks to her brother, Armstead, whom had been coming by for the past three years, ever since she'd turned 15, to teach his baby sister how to take care of herself. Partially because he wanted to help her out, but also because she had threatened to tattle on him and Betsy Beau, would he not do as she asked.<br/><br/>It felt good to be able to fill her lungs with the fresh air, and feeling like she was alone in the world, knowing that nobody would be suspecting her disappearance until it was too late. But she'd be returning home soon enough, proudly telling those -men- where to go if they wanted to catch some rustlers. Jo was positive of that.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><b>~~~~~~~~~~~ The Evening Before ~~~~~~~~~~~</b>​</div><br/>Armstead Noah, Jo's older brother by eleven years, had come over for a visit. And as per usual, often right after dinner had been eaten, he and his sister would start bickering about the one subject that was looming over the household like an ominous shadow: The rustlers that had returned to Olmstead. Armstead was a lawman, the deputy sheriff, yet he always seemed oblivious to what was going on in the world of crimes. Right now, the parents and two youngest offspring, had been about to relax in the living room, but Jo was far from being relaxed as she all but fumed.<br/><br/>"But I'm telling you, as we stand around and do nothing, their trail is getting colder. We should go do something now! Why wait?"<br/><br/>"Sheriff Harper said the case was still being worked. There needs to be taken a considerable amount of time with these things." Commented Armstead, rather lamely in Jo's opinion.<br/><br/>"Oh pooh, the sheriff couldn't teach a hen to cluck if his life depended on it."<br/><br/>"Josephine Rose Bryson."<br/><br/>Every time her papa recited her full name, Jo knew she had stepped over the line. Yet the female had no excuses for herself, only crossed her slender arms and had a rather intense stare down with her father.<br/><br/>"Really, Josephine. You don't know when to call it quits."<br/><br/>Jo turned to her brother again, her complexion red from the anger. How dare he speak to her like she was still just a little child? She knew just as much as he did about this matter, and perhaps even more. She certainly knew that his beloved sheriff was not whom everybody thought he was. Right from day one, the man had given Jo the creeps. And as soon as she knew he was the one investigating the murder of her brother, Nathan, she had started spying on the sheriff whenever she had the chance. She'd seen him on occasion talking to shady men, he'd often visited the saloon and was far from being bashful when it came to the picking of his female companions. Jo's mission of gathering intel would have been way more successful if a certain brother standing in this very room hadn't tattled on her to their father, and she'd been firmly told that spying was not a part of a lady's daily activity.<br/><br/>"And you are far too quick to do so! How can you just let this go? These vermin are still out there, they've already started up again. Who needs to die next for people to take action?"<br/><br/>"Go to your room, Josephine. This is enough."<br/><br/>"But mama, -"<br/><br/>The stern gaze from all three individuals was enough to cause the young Bryson girl to turn on her heel and stomp towards the staircase that led to the upper level of the house. Of course, ladies should never stomp, but oh did she pound her feet down with as much force as her anger told her to. This was ridiculous. It was about time she'd take matters into her own hands. Already it had proven futile to just sit around and wait for the men of this town to take the lead and find those rustlers. Still fuming, she gathered the provisions she'd slowly been collecting for the past two weeks. Jo had already taken the decision back then that she had had enough of doing nothing, but the plan needed some time before it could be pushed onward. And now she was ready. Her raven black, thick hair was pulled together in a braid that reached down to her waist. Swiftly she undressed herself, pulling on the jeans and shirt she'd 'borrowed' from Nathan's wardrobe upon visiting his widow just last week.<br/><br/>Tears gathered in her eyes as she thought she could still smell the faint, familiar scent of her dead brother. The light blue shirt was a fine enough fit, seeing how much taller and muscular Nathan had been compared to little Jo. The jeans were a different matter, as it took quite the struggle to pull them on. Despite being slender, there was no denying the fact that the female was way curvier than a lanky cowboy would ever be. But she still squeezed herself in them, before she put on the dark brown cowboy boots and the brown hat she had purchased with her own money. It had taken a lot of effort to talk her way out of that, but in the end she'd convinced the shopkeeper not to say anything for she said this was supposed to be a gift to one of her nephews.<br/><br/>After packing down what she thought she might need, the female tip toed out of her room and into the room where Armstead would be spending the night. From the sound of it, the three of them were still discussing matters downstairs, making it that much easier for Jo to shamelessly take the .45 Colt from her brother's belongings, before sneaking back to her own room.<br/><br/>It was easy enough to climb out of the window and get down on the ground below, a little trickier to remain unnoticed while entering the stables. But she managed to saddle up her Lady and walk out with her, before anyone would have suspected anything. Woman and horse walked slowly through the night, it was not safe to wait until dawn would break. Jo could only know where she was going while still on her father's property, as she knew every hole, creek and rock on the land, but that alone was a distance enough to cross. And she had a long journey ahead of her.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Hank Bryson, the respected owner of Golden Hill Ranch, had gotten up at his normal hour of around 6 am. As always, he would stand outside on the porch, admiring the view of the part of his land that was visible from the house. Despite being the boss of that ranch, he did his fair share of hard work, for no man was a real man if his hands were soft like a woman's. He had gone about his work until it was closing in on breakfasting, but then Armstead suddenly came running outside with panic in his eyes.<br/><br/>"My colt is gone! And Jo's not in her room, you don't think-"<br/><br/>The older man was already on his way to the stables before Armstead could finish his words. The heavy doors slammed open, startling both horses and workers, as the boss stalked in and went to the box where Lady was supposed to stand. His work weary hands gripped the wooden bar in front of him, squeezing it tightly as he muttered underneath his breath. That daughter of his would be the death of him before he'd reach 70. But now he could only pray he'd be able to stop her before she'd be sent too early to the grave. How could that foolish girl think she would be able to track down and handle that group of murderous rustlers? The man turned around and went back to the house where Armstead was trying to console his mother.<br/><br/>"Oh Hank! She's gone! My baby."<br/><br/>"Hush now, woman. We'll get her back."<br/><br/>Hank went to his study and spent all but three minutes in there, before returning with a piece of paper in his hand. He thrust his hand towards Armstead, while looking his son in the eyes.<br/><br/>"Go to town. Give this to Lemmy Atwater. You know where to find 'im. Don't say anythin' to anyone. If people discover that your sister is gone, her reputation and chances of marriage are over. You need to stress to Lemmy that this is an important matter."<br/><br/>Armstead nodded and was off in the blink of an eye, leaving his parents behind to worry about what was to become of their daughter. The youngest Bryson son rode like the devil himself was at his heels, reaching the town in a record time. He didn't bother with many greetings as he walked briskly in the direction of Lemmy's residency. Upon finally entering, without so much as knocking, and finding the man, he'd hand him the note while trying to catch his breath and being unable to even cough up a single word.<br/><br/>Scribbled on the paper in a hurried and slightly shaky manner, which was very out of character for Hank, was the following:<br/><br/><div style="text-align: left"><b><i> My Josephine has gone off chasing the rustlers, she'll be heading towards Hangman's Canyon. Find her. I'll owe you.<br/>
<br/>
- Hank Bryson</i></b>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The bright afternoon sun dimmed as a line of thin clouds rendered the landscape pale. Wade raced his horse down the beaten track with urgency, fearing that each moment's delay might offer a crack through which his quarry might slip. Squat shacks that passed for houses dotted the territory as the dark collection of buildings appeared on the horizon. Olmstead. When Wade read the town on the map, he couldn't deny that the name held a familiar ring in his memory. Wade tried to push such distractions from his mind as he slowed Dusty's pace, not wanting to charge into the town and draw undue attention to himself. One of keys to successful bounty hunting was remaining as mysterious as possible, dwelling in a state of obscured incognito until the last moment and apprehend the suspect in total surprise. Dusty panted and his mouth foamed from the hard pace Wade had forced. The effort had been grueling, but the reward was worth it as a rickety, posted sign announced<b>OLMSTEAD </b>in carved, black-painted letters.<br/><br/>"Good job, Dusty," he said, patting his mare's neck. "We're here ... we'll get you stabled soon enough."<br/><br/>Grimacing faces regarded the bounty hunter as he rode into the town limits with a languid gait. Wade tried to smile, preferring instead to tip his hat to the few women he encountered. The town regarded Wade with a tired apathy, clouds of dust rising up between buildings in the distance. Locals milled about with daft purpose, most sitting back on chairs or leaning against facades under overhangs that offered the gift of shade. The sounds of horses whinnying drew Wade's attention from the main street to a ochre-painted barn behind the General Store. Tugging Dusty reins, Wade made his way toward the stable, dismounting to walk his horse the last fifty feet. His eyes were open, and his hand was loose -- a man of action never rested and kept a vigilance for danger around every corner. A man stood in the middle of the aisle, tall and grim. "Help ya?" he asked, unfriendly.<br/><br/>"Need stabling for Dusty here. Stable and feed."<br/><br/>"How long?" the man asked, more open.<br/><br/>"Not sure," Wade answered. "One day, maybe two?"<br/><br/>The stableman nodded. "That's two dollars a day." His pallid, gray eyes followed Wade's hands reached into his satchel, and they widened as he produced a roll of fresh, green bills. Wade watched the stableman as he displayed his relative wealth, judging the man's reaction to so much money. The greed in his eyes betrayed hard times, which made his bribery that much easier.<br/><br/>"Here's four dollars for two days, and another two dollars for telling me about that horse yonder."<br/><br/>Taking the bills, the stableman turned toward the drab, brown quarter-horse in question. Tying Dusty's reins on a hitch, Wade went to the horse and crouched to lift its rear hoof.<br/><br/>"She's for sale if you want her," the stableman stated.<br/><br/>"Didn't say I wanted to buy her," Wade said. "I want you to tell me about her. When did she get here?"<br/><br/>"Last night, actually. Came in here with a group of others. Gentleman practically gave her away."<br/><br/>Wade measured the horse hoof with the spread of his hand; it matched some of the prints he'd been tracking since Archer City. "What can you tell me about this "gentleman" who owned her?"<br/><br/>The stableman scratched his head. "Uh, little shorter than you. Short red beard and white jacket. Mind telling me what this is all about, mister?"<br/><br/>"Did he say where he was headed?" Wade asked.<br/><br/>"Didn't ask," he answered.<br/><br/>Wade nodded. It would have been an outrageous strike of fortune if the destination of his quarry could have been so easily discovered and unearthed from a random conversation. Life, however, seemed to favor the onerous. Wade patted the quarter-horse on the rear.<br/><br/>"Though," the stableman continued, as if troubled, "I asked him his name. I always like to know who I'm buying horses from, 'case they were stolen. He looked at me ... real hard-like. Told me his name was Jeb, but I know he was lying. He had guns. Not like you see around here, shiny and untouched. They were worn, well-used." He chanced a glance at the pistols in Wade's holsters. "Just like yours, I reckon."<br/><br/>Wade smiled faintly, giving the stableman his cash. "Fresh water for Dusty, ya hear?"<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
.................................................................................​</div><br/>Wade toured the town of Olmstead on foot, keeping off the middle of the road, but not intruding on the locals by using their shaded promenade. Getting so close to people invited either suspicion or conversation, neither of which suited Wade just then. They all watched him, and he wanted to be seen -- Wade understood the parochial mindset, and how the mystery of a stranger could breach the walls of aloof or unsociable townsfolk. People could open up to newness, provided it did not threaten the way of life they had carved for themselves.<br/><br/><br/>The town consisted of a central ellipse of buildings with a larger ellipse composing the opposite side of the street. The ocular design had an artery street that veered east, ostensibly toward the long, dangerous road to Cheyenne. Piano music floated from a Saloon across the street, along with the rowdy merriment of cowboys settling in for a night of drunken revelry. Wade was about to venture across the street and investigate the Saloon when he heard -- of all things -- his name shouted in a clear, familiar voice. "WADE TILLMAN! Is that really you?!? How the hell are ya, you long dog sonofabitch??"<br/><br/>The surprise had his right hand cocked back at his pistol grip as he turned to find a man walking down wide, wooden steps toward him. The face was, at first, unfamiliar. But as the man approached, Wade recognized the light in the man's eyes as he smiled. Wade huffed in disbelief. "Lemmy? I'll be goddamned ... what the hell are you doing here?" Wade asked his question, but sufficed with a firm hug from his good friend. A cloud of dust puffed from Wade's jacket and Lemmy coughed and squinted. "Looks like you brought the road with you into town," Lemmy said. "When did you get here ... how long you staying?"<br/><br/>"Working a job," Wade muttered. He looked around, noticing the once reserved townsfolk taking an interest in their reunion. "Hey, Lem ... any chance we could talk in private?"<br/><br/>"Of course," Lemmy said, jovial. "Come on up inside. We'll be happy to take care of you." Wade followed his friend up the stairs, wondering who the "we" consisted of. The answer came in stark realization as he found himself in an ornate room that reeked of class. But, the most striking image that took Wade's breath away were the collection of beautiful women, all of whom stood tall and regal in silken gowns, cleavage bared.<i>A whorehouse</i>? Wade felt a momentary awkwardness at his intrusion. Although Wade had visited cat houses on occasion, and by no means a stranger, the idea of marring such elegance with his presence -- unwashed, sweat-laden, dusty from nearly two weeks on the range -- seemed unacceptable. Lemmy sat his friend down at a round table, calling to the humble bar. "Bottle of Virginia whiskey for me and my friend!" He took a seat across the table and regarded his friend. "Now, what are<i>you </i>doing in a place like Olmstead?"<br/><br/>Wade looked around. The ladies all watched him, whispering to themselves and giggling softly. Wade couldn't tell if they were acting coy or making him a laughing stock behind their wall of feminine status. "I'm looking for a man."<br/><br/>"You're in luck," Lemmy quipped. "So are all these ladies." He lit a cigar, waving his hand to extinguish the match.<br/><br/>"What? No ... I'm after a thief. Four of them left Archer City almost two weeks ago. Only one's left, and he's passed through here. Found one of his horses at the stable behind the General."<br/><br/>The whiskey and two glasses knocked on the wooden table as they were delivered by the elderly bartender. Lemmy nodded kindly, waiting until the old timer retreated behind the short bar to continue his questions. "Is he dangerous?" he asked, cautious.<br/><br/>"I think he shot the other three bandits, his accomplices," Wade confided. "He's carrying around a lot of gold. And not jewelers gold ... Federal gold."<br/><br/>Lemmy lowered his cigar, his eyes immobile. "Federal gold?"<br/><br/>Wade only nodded, looking around, his eyes shifty with conspiracy. "Been on the hunt for a while now. Damn lucky I haven't run into any war bands of Indians." Wade had his third glass of the caramel-colored liquor. "But, what about you, Lem? What in God's name are you doing here? What are you<i>still </i>doing here? Two years ago when you said good-bye, you told me you were headed to California and were stopping in Olmstead, Wyoming to deposit a check."<br/><br/>"I did ... and, I was," he answered. Lemmy looked down, reflective. "Do you believe in God, Wade?"<br/><br/>"Of course, I do," he scoffed. "I'm civilized, aren't I? Do I look like a goddamn Ingen?"<br/><br/>"No, no," he said, "I mean, do you<i>really </i>believe in God?"<br/><br/>Wade paused and froze as he looked at this friend's expression. Lemson Atwater was one of Wade's greatest friends, a man whom he considered family. They had spoken about many thing -- banal and profound -- in the twenty years of crossing paths and getting into (and barely surviving) adventures. But, of all the topics they discussed over rugged campfires and posh Saloon settings, religion and piety had been excluded. The look his friend gave him was one Wade recognized as implicitly earnest and sincere. "I'm not a preacher, Lem. I guess I do, 'bout as much as any man. What you driving at?"<br/><br/>Lemmy kept drinking, though with thoughtful caution -- the way a man acts when pledging himself to an oath for life. "When I arrived here, I went ahead and paid the reserve on those bounties we picked up outside Dodge City. I was about to leave when a ... storm broke out. It was early evening, but the sky turn black as sin. Decided that getting wet was not my preference, so I walked into this church next to Remington's armory. Inside there was a wake. Didn't know the deceased, but the family brought me in just the same. It was their daughter. She was killed the day before."<br/><br/>Another long swig punctuated the story, and he refilled before continuing. "I felt it was ... proper to pay some respect. Not so much for having known the living, but for my gratitude for being alive. She was beautiful; she reminded me of Jesse Jean, my sister. The woman would have been her twin, expect for her red-blonde hair. I asked how she died, and they told me that her coach was ambushed outside of town. They killed her and stole her finery and money. The next day I joined a posse and went out after the<i>desperados</i>. The posse chief was the current sheriff of Olmstead, the inept and marginally effective man known as Josiah Harper. Every time we needed to go north, he wanted to head south; turning right meant turning left. Two men and I split from the posse and found the killers in a day and a half. The money was gone, but we recovered the finery. I returned them to her parents without telling the Sheriff. Few days later, Harper stopped by interrogating, asking me if I'd ever found anything. I lied and said no. It was then that I realized that this place needed looking after. Olmstead is a place people pass through while heading somewhere else. Too often, people are thinking about where they're headed off to, instead of thinking about where they've been."<br/><br/>Leaving his story on a mildly sage note, Lemmy finished his whiskey before looking around. "So, I decided to make a life here. Susan's the closest thing to a stable woman I've ever had, town likes me well enough."<br/><br/>Wade observed his friend closely, smiling on occasion. Something had changed in Lemmy, and Wade almost didn't recognize the man he rode with for so many years. The fearless gunslinger had done something enviable -- he cared about something other than himself. Silent, Wade raised his glass and joined Lemmy in finishing the last of the whiskey. Lemmy winced as he swallowed, looking up and visually acknowledging a visitor over Wade's shoulder. "Ah, Darling ... just in time."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade turned around in his chair, speechless at the sight at one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. Only Lemmy's voice woke Wade from his revelry. "Wade Tillman ... I'd like to introduce Susan. She's the proprietor of this lovely establishment."<br/><br/>Wade's eyes widened in disbelief. "Ma'am," Wade managed.<br/><br/>She smirked, "Pleasure to meet you, Wade." Susan Dalton spoke with a South Carolina drawl, armed with alluring green eyes that lingered with erotic intent, radiating the promise of sensual pleasure. Lemmy smiled openly. "You need to clean up after your trip. Susan here will give you the royal treatment. I'll be down here afterwards." Still in shock, Wade watched as Susan looped her arm around Wade's shoulder, gently lifting him from his chair and pulling him toward the back. Wade gave no resistance and only caught sight of Lemmy grinning as he returned to his sentry position at the open entrance to stand at sentry. The bathing areas were separate rooms behind the parlour facade, and Wade couldn't miss the large, claw-foot tub in the middle of the room filled with warm water. Eyes lingering on the decadence, he almost failed to notice Susan unbuttoning his shirt. She was undressing him, and his protest was caught in his throat as each moment lead to the next. He was curious if she would stop at his bottom button, but she proceeded as if she were a mother preparing a son for his weekly bath. On her knees, she looked up and gave a grin that was anything but maternal. "Lemmy's talked about you before," Susan said. She took off his boots, and relieved Wade of his pants and underwear. Susan took his hand and led him to the bath and guided him inside. "We'll take care of you," she intoned.<br/><br/>Sufficed to say, the bath was unlike anything Wade had ever experienced. Promising to return, Susan departed to attend to business, but two pretty women in stockings and translucent shifts arrived with warm water. They bathed him, occasionally kissing him on the cheek and shoulders. Never having had a woman he had not bought, Wade was at a loss about how to handle interest from, not one, but<i>two </i>lovely ladies. After an hour, Wade finished and stood. The water drained down from his form in a dozen spindly columns of water. The ladies had towels waiting for him. Wade's eyes searched the room briefly. "Where are my clothes?"<br/><br/>The strawberry blonde answer with a slight Irish accent. "Madame is fetching ya new ones while we wash yours. Come on, Sugar." Wade didn't argue, and took the blonde's hand. They departed the bathing room and walked up a flight of internal stairs to a larger bedroom. "Make yerself comfortable," she intoned, lingering at the door frame, a look of near jealousy in her blue eyes. "Madame will attend to you shortly." Wade watched her blue eyes vanish behind the door closing, and he stalked about the room. He conducted a cursory search as best able, finally sitting on the bed. His hand slid under the feather pillows and hit a hard, metal object. Wade pulled a loaded Derringer out from its hiding place. Examining the firearm, Wade unloaded the weapon and left it -- along with the bullets -- on the bedside stand. The door opened slowly and Susan placed Wade's polished boots and gun-belt on a small chair by the door. Her smile flattened as she spotted the Derringer and bullets on the table, but her plump lips lifted as her green eyes caught sight of the near naked man.<br/><br/>Susan stood tall and closed the door behind her, locking it. Her hands reached behind her back, working to untie the lacing of her dress. "Lemmy was right ... nothing gets past you, does it?" Her fancy bodice-dress slackened around her form, dropping off her body with a slight tug. "It's for protection, you know."<br/><br/>"Don't need to explain to me," Wade said. He watched Susan gently lift her translucent slip up and over her head. Her marvelously sculpted breasts bounced slightly once free of the undergarment, and Wade tossed his towel aside as she approached, clad only in tightly-woven, pointelle stockings. Susan's steps thunked under her black, Victorian boots and he gave Wade a playful push down on to the bed as she swung a leg over his mid-section. Her lips split cleanly over Wade's erection; Susan began to gently shift her pelvis over his crotch.<br/><br/>"Is this part of the 'royal treatment'?" Wade asked.<br/><br/>Susan grinned and nodded silently, her mouth opening slightly at the pleasure seeping up from her warm spot. Wade reached up, unable to stop his hands from fondling the prostitute's tits. Susan's moisture began to coat Wade's cock as Susan leaned down and kissed Wade deeply. She rested her hands on his hefty shoulders, and looked into his eyes with her sultry, green orbs. "Where you from, Wade?" Susan asked, a little breathless.<br/><br/>"Illinois," he said. "Carbondale, in the south of the state."<br/><br/>"You're a long way from Illinois," Susan purred. She reached down and slipped Wade's erection into her ripe pussy. They both gasped, with Susan emitting an affected giggle. "What brings you to these parts?"<br/><br/>"Business."<br/><br/>"What kind of business?"<br/><br/>"You talk a lot for whore," Wade said, with a sly grin.<br/><br/>Susan bit her lip and pushed herself upright. With Wade's manhood buried deep inside of her, Susan lazily jostled about, placing her hands on Wade's washboard abs for support. "I'm not a whore, you oaf." She smiled in retribution. "Whores have sex because someone pays them. I'm a madame. I have sex because it's my wish." Susan tilted her head back and grinded her pussy down onto Wade's staff with greater vigor before speaking again. "Lemmy told me you're looking for someone?"<br/><br/>It was entirely possible that Susan was seducing Wade to pump him for information. The tactic was effective and as old as human history -- sex created a mutual platform of intimacy, intimacy was trust, trust meant sharing. Susan's efforts were as transparent as the shift she had discarded so carefree upon the floor, but Wade didn't mind. She knew Lemmy, and that was all he needed to know. Wade pushed upright, propping himself with a stiff arm behind him. Susan smiled in reserved joy at the change of position, and the two kissed for some time as she rode Wade like a cowgirl. "I'm looking for a dangerous man," Wade admitted. "A thief with three horses."<br/><br/>Susan's body began to sweat in the sweltering, Wyoming heat. "What did he steal?"<br/><br/>"Why do you ask?"<br/><br/>"Because, I'm curious." Her hands gently fell to Wade's cheeks, their noses touching and her scent filling the room. "It's good to have friends, Wade. Maybe we can help each other."<br/><br/>Wade pondered her statement, his breath slipping in and out with lewd speed. "Gold," he admitted. "More gold than all the men in that Saloon can carry, worth more than this entire town."<br/><br/>Susan's eyes widened. "That much money headed into the wilderness smells like trouble."<br/><br/>"Trouble or not, it's my job to get it back." Wade spread his legs wide, setting them upon the raw, wooden floorboards before scooting back. His hands gripped Susan's ass, pulling her down onto her back. His cock still filled her whole as her arms weaved about his torso. Wade was done talking. Susan's steady ministrations had primed Wade's pump exquisitely and he was ready to release himself. Wade made her flimsy bed creak for its very life as the madame found herself being mercilessly taken. Susan pointed her toes and clamped her stocking legs over Wade's rear end as he rode her fiercely, not stopping until he gave a primal grunt. Susan smiled wide, dragging her nails down Wade's back as she felt his warm deposit spreading inside of her womb.<br/><br/>Wade didn't tarry when one of the girls knocked and laid a change of clothes next to Wade's guns. He dressed quickly, and Susan helped by buttoning his shirt. She kissed him periodically on the lips, a trait Wade found both annoying and mildly endearing. "Stop back whenever you want," Susan intoned as she closed the door behind Wade as he left. He found his way to the main parlour room, and found Lemmy at the bar. "There you are!" he said, friendly. "Let's head to my place."<br/><br/>The house that Lemmy called home was a humble abode. Made primarily of wood, the structure sported a tin roof and actual glass in the windows. Lemmy set the bottle of whiskey they had ordered at the whorehouse upon his kitchen table. "So, did you enjoy Susan?"<br/><br/>"I did," Wade answered. He recalled Lemmy speaking of Susan in terms that implied endearment. An odd pang stuck the bounty hunter. "She your ... girlfriend?"<br/><br/>"Girlfriend? No," he laughed. "No, she's my wife."<br/><br/>Wade nearly choked on his whiskey.<br/><br/>Lemmy laughed at Wade. "It's not a conventional marriage, to say the least. Actually, no one else knows about it other than you and Maverick Remington. He owns the gun shop across the way. She's a pillar of this community and a successful businesswoman. Granted, she's not here to cook my meals and clean up after me ... but, she lets me try out the new whores that come knocking on her door. She knows I'll give her an honest opinion." Lemmy paused, happy. "And, she loves me."<br/><br/>"Wife," Wade muttered, his mind still computing. "Is that why you were hanging out at her place earlier?"<br/><br/>"In a way. I'm there primarily for protection whenever I'm not away. I make ends meet by helping out outside agencies that come rolling through. I know the area and people fairly well, both good and bad, rich and poor. Pinkerton agents call me on a regular basis, and US Marshals stopped by just last week. Law work is hazardous, but pays my bills." Lemmy regarded his friend astutely. "You should go into law, you know. It'd suit ya."<br/><br/>Wade shook his head, dismissive. "Not me," he answered. "Walking around with a silver star or badge is like wearing a bulls-eye. I much prefer to be hunting than be hunted in a lawless land."<br/><br/>Wade could not fail to notice the disappointment that lined Lemmy's eyes. "Well, time changes all things. Maybe one day, you'll have a change of heart."<br/><br/>The night went without incident. The friends chatted until just before midnight, and Wade found a bed of taut rope and linen along with a wool blanket. Morning came much too early, and the scent of fried bacon and eggs roused Wade from his mildly comfortable bed. A dog had wandered in from a back door and sat patiently, acting with trained regularity. Lemmy laughed. "This is Russ. Not sure who owns him, but he's here whenever I --"<br/><br/>The sound of a charging horse and arriving rider drew both men from their meal. Wade drew his pistol at the door when the deputy Sheriff walked in. He was breathless and speaking emphatically to Lemmy. Wade saw a note being passed, along with Lemmy's grave change in demeanor. Lemmy tossed a look toward Wade. "Armstead ... this is Wade Tillman. He's my great friend and the best tracker this side of the Mississippi. He and I will find Josie. I promise. Tell Hank not to worry." Wade caught an appraising glare from Armstead before he left Lemmy's residence and rode out.<br/><br/>"What the hell's going on, Lem?" Wade asked.<br/><br/>"Get your gear." Concern laced Lemmy's tone. "I'll explain as we ride out."<br/><div style="text-align: left">​</div>………………………………………………………..<br/><a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi58.servimg.com%2Fu%2Ff58%2F13%2F17%2F26%2F76%2Fimg_4010.jpg%5B%2Fimga%5D%E2%80%9CWoah&amp;hash=781b2682b10fbd1b18a9bd891379e435" href="https://i58.servimg.com/u/f58/13/17/26/76/img_4010.jpg[/imga]“Woah" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><br/>
“Woah']“Woah']“Woah']“Woah']"Whoa</a>, girl, woah.”<br/><br/>Jo reined Lady in with a gentle pull before she swung out of the saddle and hit the ground with a soft thud. The mare tossed her head and let out a snort as she pawed at the ground. The raven haired female smiled gently and stroked the horse’s forehead with affection before hugging the animal’s large head to her bosom. The mare only had patience for a brief moment of embrace, before she nudged hard at the girl and sent her scampering backwards with a laugh. Jo had gotten Lady on her twelfth birthday, and the animal had already then been spirited enough to drive the girl’s mother worried out of her mind. The horse loved running and would often dance on her hind legs if she was held back too firmly. But Jo had always had a knack for animals, especially horses, so they had quickly developed an understanding relationship between each other.<br/><br/>The mare was Jo’s greatest joy in life and she would hate to exhaust the animal in the warm afternoon sun, which was why she was going to stretch her legs and walk for a while. Already sweat was dripping from the mare’s neck and her hindquarters, even when she seemed eager enough to keep going. Holding the reins tightly in her hand, Jo started out while keeping a close eye on the ground for any sort of trail that might have been left recently. Dang, if only Armstead was better at tracking so he could have taught her. A loud whinny from Lady broke the little amount of concentration the girl possessed. She tossed her heavy braid over her shoulder while sparing a glance towards the annoyed animal.<br/><br/>“Hey now, you gotta keep a cool head. I know Bucky is at home eating his oats and having it cozy, but you should be grateful you’re going on this adventure with me!”<br/><br/>Her words were answered with a rough pushing of a soft nose against her back, causing the young female to let out a giggle as she searched her pocket for some oats to give to the horse in order to pacify her. Wiping at her sweaty forehead, Jo looked up at the clear skies and sighed. It was already hot enough to fry an egg on the nearest rock. She would have to be careful with her water supplies until she’d get to the nearest creek. Onward she trudged, holding tightly onto the reins of her spirited mare that seemed very intent on stepping on Jo’s heels, as if it wasn’t already uncomfortable enough to be walking in those brand new boots that were massacring her soft and petite feet.<br/><br/>Jo had barely walked for twenty minutes when she found herself hobbling awkwardly, as the blisters and sores on her toes and heels made her want to yell out in frustration. If only she had the same sized feet as Armstead, then she would have taken his boots when she had the chance. She had tried walking around in those new boots in her room to get used to them, but there was a very distinct difference between waltzing around in circles inside and having to trudge onward in a sometimes rough terrain with sweaty feet.<br/><br/>“Well hot damn.”<br/><br/>It was still a long way until she’d get to Hangman’s Canyon, the last place where tracks from the rustlers had been spotted. But with a great deal of determination, she trudged onward and gritted her teeth against the discomfort in her feet. Maybe in a way this was a fitting punishment for her to go against her parents and risking not only her reputation but theirs as well. Of course, the guilt had been eating at her all day long, causing her mood to sour greatly with each mile that was put between herself and home. But she was determined she would not turn around unless she'd have some good news. Part of that reasoning was because of her pride and willpower, the other part of it was the fact that she thought there'd be less chance of having her backside whipped by her father if she'd manage to point his anger towards the real bad guys there.<br/><br/>It wasn't long before she found herself swinging up into the saddle again, a great deal of relief coursing through her as she placed her feet in the stirrups before urging the mare to a slow trot. She had to get to the canyon before dusk, as it was the safest place to spend the night for a lone woman.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/><a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi58.servimg.com%2Fu%2Ff58%2F13%2F17%2F26%2F76%2Fsmm10.jpg%5B%2Fimga%5D%E2%80%9CYa&amp;hash=674e388c5662eec58e578b22a259b354" href="https://i58.servimg.com/u/f58/13/17/26/76/smm10.jpg[/imga]“Ya" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">“Ya</a>sure they comin’? Been a while now.”<br/><br/>Jake looked up from the squirming and bellowing calf, sweat pouring into his eyes from the heat of the sun along with the poking iron he was currently using to change the brand on that calf’s hind leg. His muddy colored eyes looked over one of the lunk-headed workers he’d picked up a few towns back. Good rustlers were difficult to find nowadays, but what kept this particularly ugly and toothless fella alive, was the fact that he was exceptionally handy with the running iron. A true brand artist. Otherwise, Jake would have probably been done leaving his carcass to the vultures a long time ago.<br/><br/>“You callin’ my brother a lily-livered traitor, Loyd?<br/><br/>He wiped at his nose with a dusty sleeve, while stepping away from the calf on the ground. Its legs were tied securely together, so it’d be going nowhere. The tall man loomed in on the former, the running iron still red hot in his hands. The smell of burnt flesh and singed hair of the cattle that were being re-marked tainted the very air, causing most of the men there to pull their bandana kerchiefs over their noses and mouths so the stench wouldn’t be sitting around, lingering in their nostrils and mouth all day long. Jake was with the few that didn’t mind the smell, he thought it was a sign of being a wet-behind-the-ears baby to let something as insignificant as smell get to him. Perhaps that was also the reasoning for him avoiding stepping in water and baths altogether.<br/><br/>“H-heck no, is just a lot of gold. Mayhap the injuns got ‘im. Or the law.”<br/><br/>“Clyde ain’t no fool. He’ll get rid of all obstacles and anyone possibly weighing him down, before he gets here. ‘N there aint no chance he’ll let some god-less, red nosed injuns shoot ‘im in the back or those good fer nothin’ lawmen. Now keep yer trap shut and get back to work.”<br/><br/>He turned the running iron in his hand, before tossing it in the air, watching a frantic Loyd catching it and doing a little dance as he tried keeping himself from burning his hands. Not that they weren’t scarred already from mishandling of red hot heavy wires and saddle cinch rings when the re-branding needed to be done on the run. Jake stalked off towards the make-shift fence, looking over the herd of cattle they’d picked up from old man Henry’s farm. The old bastard had gotten the lights knocked out of him when he’d tried showing off a brave side of himself.<br/><br/>“You chicken shits better start pickin’ up the pace. We gotta be moving from here t’day.”<br/><br/>There were a few grunts from sweaty, dirty men, but they did as they were told. Everybody knew that Jake "Scab" McMillan was a mean bastard if his orders were ignored. He obviously suffered from a great deal of god-complex from being the assigned leader of this group of misfits and law-breakers.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The two men rode hard into the wide, open range of the Wyoming grasslands. Urgency set their pace as the wind rushed past their faces, sending their clothes whipping -- flagellate -- behind them in velocity. Each summit they reached led to countless other horizons of shallow ridges -- and endless array of crests in an undulating landscape of fertile green. After two hours of charging forward, Lemmy eased the pace and he veered into a glade of trees to rest the horses. They bowed their heads, sweating in the mid-day heat to lap up the stream-water that flowed from the north. Wade sought the shade from a scrubby pine tree, eyeing his friend. "You wanna tell me what this is all about?" Wade asked.<br/><br/>Lemmy panted lightly, steering his gaze into the vast distance. He tugged at his riding gloves, resting them on the incline between the seat and cantle of the saddle. Lemmy approached where Wade stood, stopping next to him in the shady respite. "There's more despicable characters in this county than I can name, but Hank Bryson ain't one of them. He's a rancher off to the northwest of Olmstead, definitely the largest in county ... if not the state. Hank's a good and decent man, hard-working and proud of his family and earnings. He has many children, and lost one recently to cattle bandits. That brings us to Josie."<br/><br/>Wade squinted at the name.<br/><br/>"Josephine is the youngest of the Bryson clan, and she's also inherited a hot-head. She's full of sass, like she's living off of piss and vinegar. Her brother, Armstead, came riding in this morning. He gave me Hank's note that Josie took it upon herself to search Hangman's Canyon. She 'bout as patient as a filly in heat ... probably looking for clues about her brother's murder."<br/><br/>"Murder?" Wade asked. "If y'all know it's murder, then why isn't someone searching around?"<br/><br/>"Well, that's the trick. Crime occurred outside of city limits, so Sheriff Harper is deferring to the County ... but, the County has it's own problems and difficult people. There's a Federal judge who could send law enforcement, but his hands are tied dealing with Army and Indian affairs."<br/><br/>"Sheriff should get off his ass and just do something." Wade cocked an inquisitive eye toward his friend. "Unless he doesn't want to?"<br/><br/>Lemmy nodded. "I think he's a stooge ... a bought man. There's rustlers from here to Tombstone, but these here bandits have a vicious streak in 'em. Someone's driving them like they drive them cattle. And, God as my witness, Sheriff Harper acts like he's dancin' to their tune."<br/><br/>Wade recalled the Deputy Sheriff badge on the young man who arrived to deliver the rancher's note. "That's why this Bryson fellow contacted you?"<br/><br/>"Well, yes and no." Lemmy took a long drink from his waterskin. "Not involving the Sheriff is generally considered wise. But, Old Hank wants to see his daughter married all respectable." Lemmy let out a dribble of spit on yo the dusty ground, which swallowed up his ejection. "Can't say I blame him. Problem is that his daughter like to ride, shoot, and cuss like a man. Those aren't the "lady-like" qualities most gentlemen are seekin' in a blushing bride." Lemmy fastened the leather skin back to his belt. "Hank wants Josie found without fuss or word getting out."<br/><br/>"So, find the daughter--"<br/><br/>"Josephine," Lemmy interrupted. "She goes by Jo."<br/><br/>"Find Jo," Wade continued, correcting himself, "and return with her sterling reputation intact." Wade chuckled at the notion. Penning in a woman like that was akin to fencing in a wild steer -- sooner or later, she would break free and never return. "You sure we can't let her run out of food and water ... let her come limping back home when her supplies run out?"<br/><br/>"Wade, yer not listenin' ... there's bandits and scum roaming this here valley, especially in Hangman's Canyon." Lemmy mounted his horse, his manner approaching solicitude. "We need to save her<i>from herself </i>before it's too late."<br/><div style="text-align: left">​</div><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade Tillman thought children loud and irksome. They cried, they frustrated -- children amounted to little more than tiny burdens of perpetual need, and that was a problem that the bounty hunter did not need in his life. His profession demanded he travel the vast expanse of the West, and the entire affair of marriage and a family was a delusion to men of his ilk. Being respectable had little place in a life where his bed-mates were rattlesnakes and loaded revolvers, stashed under whatever miserable excuse served as a pillow. No woman warmed his bed during the tepid chill on the high desert plains, nor would one suffice to accept the warmth between his legs in the midnight hour. The importance of being respectable came with the price of portraying oneself as ever earnest, when all he could give life was a perennial care between dangerous jobs that placed his life on the line.<br/><br/>Wade was not a family man, but he sympathized with the old rancher in seeing his daughter safe and sound. What Wade could not abide was the template of respectability, and a part of Wade afforded a greater sympathy to Jo and her plight and frustrations. Hell, taking after a desperate man that needed a coil of rope and five feet under his boots was what spurred him into bounty hunting in the first place. Still, he endured the heat of the range for his friend, and if Lemmy wanted this wild Bryson filly brought back to pasture, so be it.<br/><br/>"We should split up here," Lemmy said. Wade looked up to view the furrows of Hangman's Canyon cutting into the wider expanse in ochre hues. "You head down inside, see if you can find her." Lemmy shaded his eyes against the afternoon sun, encroaching and blinding. "You have a better chance of finding her down there, anyway. I may or may not find ya come evening. Meet you in Olmstead tomorrow evening regardless?"<br/><br/>"You said she was looking for someplace in particular?" Wade asked.<br/><br/>Lemmy nodded. "A depression about three miles that way," he pointed, "called Shallow Falls. Straggling grazers might still be there."<br/><br/>The prospect of riding down into a foreign ravine reeked of an ambush, loaded guns surrounding Wade at every turn. Unhappy, Wade would rather take that risk than forcing that upon his friend. Lemmy was as close to respectable himself as possible: married to a gorgeous madame; the quiet pillar of a dusty, transient community; the hired badge of law and order in the region. No, Wade would descend into the canyon and face whatever was within. "Watch your back, eh?" Wade said.<br/><br/>Lemmy smiled, grim. "Maybe see you tonight."<br/><br/>Wade watched his friend ride off up several steep bluffs and soon disappeared out of sight. Wade paused, observing the landscape spread out before him. The prospect of finding a single woman in a hundred square-mile area might have daunted most men, but Wade felt optimistic knowing where this Jo would likely be heading. Even as Wade began the easy descent down the dusty declined path, the fringes of a wider, grassland could be seen between the slopes of the distant hills. The low set plains earned their name with a short stand of water pumping down into a larger, often flooded ravine. Lush green grass undulated in the warm breeze, and he halted his horse, waiting. Wade extended a brass sighting-scope, a gift from a a Naval officer he freed from captivity two years ago, and looking through the device offered visions of contradiction. The glass lenses needed to be polished, a task Wade could not be bothered to invest in. Thus, as the distant views brought to proximity, an optic haze clouded the periphery of his vision. Despite the occlusion, Wade spotted a rider headed toward his position. An almost wicked smiles cracked Wade's worn features -- Christmas for a bounty hunter was having his quarry come to him. Wade dismounted and found a patch of shade, setting his horse to rest on it's side as he eased back against a hickory tree.<br/><br/>The only thing left to do was wait.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>It had been a long day of slow traveling, but both horse and female were happy with their journey together. This time of solitude had given Jo time to think things through. And not just about what lay ahead, but with other aspects of her life. She‘d been dragging her feet recently about meeting her betrothed, Theodore; the ever annoying, slab-sided rich boy she was supposed to be engaged to. It was painful that her parents thought they could find a man, whom wasn't even a proper cowboy, and then tell her he would be her dream come true. Who had time these days to be courting and getting married? She wanted to work, to ride horses and be free. Jo didn't want to be tied down with a ring and a couple of kids. She‘d suffocate, wither away. Especially around someone that rode carriages instead of riding horses properly.<br/><br/>So she had to come straight with her folks; tell them once and for all that she really didn't want to get married. It didn't matter if they thought she was old enough, she certainly did not feel ready for it. And if that was how she felt, the matter about anyone getting married anytime soon would be dropped like a hot potato. 'As stubborn as a mule' was a frequently used sentence when one was to describe her temperament. Of course it could sting sometimes to hear that when used with a negative meaning, but she wouldn't be denying it. She rather thought it a good trademark, to never give up on something once you decided on it. Only those that were weak of will or cowards at heart would be changing their minds and get talked out of things.<br/><br/>Her mind drifted back home to her folks that were probably worrying themselves sick by now, she wondered if her parents were alright. If papa had chastised her brother for leaving his gun out like that. From the bottom of her heart she hoped that they could forgive her for what she was doing – and she also hoped that her father hadn't taken it upon himself to ride after her. Jo wasn't fooling herself, she knew that Hank would be sending someone to take her back home. But that person would have to be damn good if they thought they could not only track her down but actually catch her and convince her to go back home. She was a woman on a mission and nothing nor nobody would be changing her course.<br/><br/>With that being said, maybe she should wait a little bit with telling them about her decision of not getting married. Her parents weren't as young as before, and one daughter-related-disaster at a time was probably enough. A huff of breath escaped her as she leaned forward in the saddle, giving Lady a few well deserved pats on the sweaty neck.<br/><br/>"Listen girl, soon we can stop for the night. Then I‘ll give you some more oats and we get a well deserved rest. We gotta get up early tomorrow and keep going, just in case someone optimistic is chasing after us."<br/><br/>Jo was almost done convincing herself that she was speaking so frequently to her mare because they were partners in crime and the animal liked her voice. But truth be told, she was feeling a little bit nervous over where she was heading. No matter what she had decided on, the fact remained that she had never been this far from home before – at least not when alone. And it was a well known fact that all sorts of people loitered around these parts. Not that Jo was prejudiced against anyone, but she also knew that many of those people wouldn't give up the chance of catching themselves a young Bryson family member. Despite her father being generous and a fair man to his workers, the fact remained that many people felt jealous towards his properties and his wealth. The Bryson family might not be swimming in money but they were well enough off to not have to worry about their future.<br/><br/><i>Gosh dang it, I gotta stop over thinking this. I'm here to hunt down rustlers. I can't be scared of no thieves.</i>Besides, hadn't ol' Billy told her that he'd heard strange sounds coming from the canyon just three weeks ago? Like the muffled sound of a calf and maybe a hissing voice of a man? Everyone else laughed at the old guy, he was the local drunk and always had rather colorful stories to share. But Jo liked him, and she always believed what he had to say. Except maybe for that one time when he swore he'd seen a cow walking on its hind legs.<br/><br/>Suddenly, Lady started slowing down and Jo was snapped out of her thoughts. They were here. At the edge of the canyon. The female pulled the reins gently to stop Lady in her tracks. The mare snorted softly and tossed her head from side to side, before starting to paw at the ground and side step impatiently. Jo smacked her lips together and pulled again on the reins, and the animal came to a complete halt. Together they surveyed the vast surroundings. Just a couple of more steps and they‘d start descending down into the canyon itself – and then she would just need to ride a few more minutes before reaching Shadow Falls.<br/><br/>Jo had never been a part of a fight of any sort and she‘d most certainly never gotten shot at. But despite all that, she felt reluctant to go down into that place where you were trapped like a mouse and open to any sort of mischief from above. A snort, pretty similar to that of her horse‘s, escaped the female as she scolded herself mentally. Had she left her courage back home? It wasn't like she could afford turning around now. Her father would probably disown her if she‘d go through all this trouble just to turn craven at the last minute. With nostrils flaring, back straightening and her grip tightening around the reins – she urged the mare forward and they started down the steep trail. The young female leaned backwards in the saddle as she looked around. Lady didn't need any help with finding the best path, her feet were sure and steady as she took her owner down to the bottom of the canyon.<br/><br/>Once they were there, Jo noticed a slight change in the animal. Lady‘s ears perked up and she raised her head higher than before, her large nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air and looked around with a great deal of interest. This of course caused the female to mimic the behavior of the animal, her dark eyes slowly moving over every rock and crevice like she was expecting bandits to come flying at her. But maybe Lady was just being too cautious, horses weren't exactly known to be brave creatures. It wouldn't have needed more than a small bird to have flown suddenly up from somewhere to pull the horse‘s attention there – so Jo clicked her tongue and they went into a slow trot. An uneasy feeling remained in her stomach as she gave her surroundings a sideways glance from underneath the rim of her hat. Suddenly the idea of spending the night alone here wasn't all that appealing any longer, and she felt how her courage was gradually faltering for the hundredth time that day.<br/><br/><i>Remember who you are. You ain't just some silly girl, you are Josephine Rose Bryson. You are strong and independent. You don‘t need anyone but yourself, your horse and the gun ... that you stole from your brother.</i>She nodded with a determined expression while trying to work herself up with those encouraging thoughts. If there was anyone here that wanted to mess with her, she‘d make sure they would regret the day they were born. She was much tougher than she looked.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The shady respite Wade found could not stop the parched breeze that drove across him like a thermal tide. Arizona and Texas punished more harshly, but only by a margin. Southern Wyoming resembled the landscapes of its southern brethren in most respects, but with less intensity: not quite as hot, not quite as dry. Wyoming was hard without being homocidal, though it still possessed sordid elements. Wade watched as a prairie rattlesnake shifted and slithered with predatorial grace towards a prairie dog mound, waiting. It was only a matter of time before the damn thing popped it's head up; some things were inevitable and followed their pattern to ruin. Society had a pattern, as well, and it was when someone deviated from that pattern that Wade found himself employed for good or ill. Respectability was a pattern of womanhood supplied with blanket uniformity. It was as unfair as men being conscripted to fight in the nation's wars, though decidedly less violent. And, under the shade of that hickory tree, Wade found himself — yet, again — chasing after another person who broke the pattern society set out. Josephine Bryce passed by on her horse at eighty yards distance toward the green of a Shallow Falls.<br/><br/>In the blink of an eye, the prairie rattlesnake launched and snared the furry mammal; Wade roused himself, standing quietly and urging his horse to rise.<br/><br/>The horse Jo rode seemed more attuned to the situation than the rider, bucking in agitation and tossing its chestnut brown mane. Wade narrowed his eyes onto the woman: firmly built, but still of lithe frame; she dressed like a man, only distinguished as a woman by the long braid of dark hair over her back. Wade fussed with a bag quiet-like, producing a lasso ... just in case. The protocol for capturing hombres was fairly straight-forward, if not steeped in violence and intimidation. The ends often justified the means, and the condition of the prisoner mattered less than their physical apprehension — Wade's conduct regulated by the cliche term "dead or alive." The situation before Wade just then was something entirely different. Though she might fight, shoot, and run, Wade could not employ his standard fare of threats and brutality to bring the filly to heel. Retuning to the Bryson Ranch with a beat and battered young woman might get himself shot dead on sight. And, more importantly Wade thought, the reputation of his friend Lemmy was also at stake— the Brysons came to Lemmy and he involved Wade; the bounty hunter needed to work his tongue at negotiations.<br/><br/>"Qm a casual amble to a controlled trot, kicking up little dust and making little noise. Jo's horse detected the advance, and cried out a whinny.<br/><br/><i>Fifty yards</i>.<br/><br/>Wade could see the woman's features as she shifted about, trying to manage and comfort her horse. She was pretty,<i>damn</i>pretty. It was easy to see why the Bryson father would want her in a parasol dress at a man's side — a woman with that kind of beauty made other men perk up and respect her husband, wondering what hidden power he has to possess a lady of that caliber. Though, lady or not, Jo seemed quite adept at taming the vagaries of her animal. Wade thought panic and surprise gave way to something fiery as her eyes finally spotted him.<br/><br/><i>Twenty yards</i>.<br/><br/>Wade smiled, not knowing what else he could do. Then, an idea struck him. Wade dismounted from Dusty, the air about him erupting in a dust cloud as his solid boots hit the ground under weight. Rein in hand, Wade squinted against the sun and led the animal closer. He might be keen on putting a dram of lead in her gut, but he could deceive her just the same. The illusion of power benefited those of higher stature, though Wade knew he'd be able to out maneuver the woman in a snap. He wondered what she intended to do, her reaction predicating the next several minutes.<br/><br/>Wade mosied as close as Jo allowed. "Afternoon, ma'am," Wade called, friendly. "Wondering if you could help me out ... I'm looking for someone."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The moment Lady let out a loud whinny, was the moment Jo knew they were not alone. So maybe she hadn't been just imagining things what with that bad feeling in her stomach earlier. Her mare tensed up and started to fight against the reins, forcing the female to use up some valuable time to calm the animal down again. Once she had settled the horse, she started to feel how her own fear and panic were bursting to the surface. A hard knot formed in her stomach and her breath become more erratic. Had the rustlers found her? Was she going to die?<br/><br/>Her dark blue eyes quickly skimmed the surroundings, her lithe body twisted in the saddle, and then she spotted the rider that came her way. She could have kicked Lady with her heels and sent her bounding forward - but maybe she'd just be riding straight into the face of danger. This was not the time to be acting on impulses and fear. Besides, that person coming her way seemed rather calm and collected. Like he was just minding his own business. It'd feel rather silly to react badly when the person was not yet upon her and Jo couldn't know for sure if this was someone dangerous or not. Plus the fact that she had no clue if it was just him, or if his buddies were already circling around and getting into position. Now, the biggest question of them all was: Was this one of the rustlers or not? The female turned her mare around so she was facing whomever it was that was approaching. Automatically, her hand shifted to rest on her thigh, just inches from where the gun was fastened to her belt. She was not going to draw the weapon, yet, mainly because she'd rather just let that person pass by in peace if that would be the case. Jo didn't like any sort of violence and she certainly did not want to have to shoot at someone - or get shot at.<br/><br/>Her back got straighter and her breathing even faster - the closer horse and man came to her. Lady, sensing how Jo's thighs tightened around her, started side stepping and swishing her tail irritably. The man smiled, causing Jo to frown a bit as she inspected him better. He looked a bit rugged but he was a handsome man from what she could tell. He was not 'pretty' like Theodore was; this man's face had stronger features, and his hair was not combed neatly to the side nor was his skin cleanly washed. The man's clothes were dirty and worn, he was probably just as sweaty and dusty as she was, and he rode his horse like a true cowboy - animal and man moving as one. Those factors alone already made him far more attractive and interesting in Jo's eyes than her betrothed-to-be.<br/><br/>Jo cocked her head to the side and watched him curiously as he suddenly went off the horse and came walking closer to her. Was it him trying to look less threatening? Should she consider it a polite and considerate action, or should it make her even more wary than she already was? She couldn't deny the fact that his action had made her relax by just a fraction. Jo straightened even further in her saddle the closer he came, a jerking motion of her chin indicating just when she felt like he had come close enough to her. The stranger stopped. Her heart was hammering inside of her chest, even as she tried her best to look as cool as a cucumber on the outside.<br/><br/>"Afternoon."<br/><br/>She replied, a curt nod of her head following the word. Lady lifted her head and sniffed the air, before her ears were all but plastered down against her head. The animal looked just about ready to challenge both the stranger and his horse, but Jo was holding her back with a low whisper and a gentle handling of the reins. The man's question was an odd one. Especially considering the fact that she herself was out here searching for people. So far, he didn't look nor sound like a rustler. But she couldn't afford not to be a bit suspicious. Her head turned from side to side as she looked with peered eyes around them, fully expecting to hear the sound of a gun being cocked. When nothing alerted her 'radar', she looked again down at the stranger before pursing her full lips.<br/><br/>"Well, I haven't encountered anything but rattlers and dust so far on my trip, so I'm fair certain I'll be of little assistance to you on your search. Although, one would start wondering whom you are searching for out here in the middle of nowhere. You lost or something? The town is a few miles back in that direction."<br/><br/>She pointed back to where they both had come from, before her hand was dropped down. Her curiosity was swiftly getting a hold of the young female, and she all but wriggled around in the saddle as her questions kept piling up and pressing at her mind. Everybody in her family had constantly stressed the importance of her not 'grilling' strangers for answers - but what her family didn't know couldn't hurt them.<br/><br/>"Say, I haven't seen you around these parts before. You a cowhand? Messenger? Or maybe someone shady?"<br/><br/>She leaned a bit forward in the saddle, her eyes twinkling slightly as she gave in to the nosey side of herself. Her soft voice that had earlier sounded guarded, had taken on a new tone of interest - and it didn't seem like she'd be stopping asking the questions unless the man would shut her up. No person in their right mind would actually question the nature of a stranger right to their face. But then again, nobody could really say that Jo acted like she was supposed to be acting half of the time. Her large eyes were all but glued to him as she tried to see if there was anything familiar to those strong features of his. He couldn't have been Piper's cousin and he didn't look like he'd be the type to have farmer's blood in his veins. There was something about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. But she did like his face and that friendly voice of his.<br/><br/>The female suddenly felt a little bit conscious of the fact that she was dressed in her brother's clothes and probably looked like she'd taken a dust bath earlier. Her braid was probably starting to get slightly undone, and she knew her complexion was a little red due to the heat they were both experiencing. This unexpected, feminine side of herself that was worrying about such trifle matters caused Jo to almost frown at herself. This was no time to be ogling a stranger. She had an important mission ahead of her, and needed to get rid of this surprising obstacle.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><div style="text-align: left">Wade found himself surrendering a subtly, lop-sided grin at the sound of the woman's curiosity and enthusiasm. The summer heat might have been creeping into his brain and softening his resolve, but Wade found the Bryson missy beautiful upon closer inspection — her eyes sparkled, despite the heat and her rosy cheeks gave a flush that Wade found in attractive, hard-working women. The placement of Jo's hand near her belt and pistol conveyed her slight distress, and Wade slowly reached for his waterskin and took a long drink.​</div><br/>"No," he said, with a shallow grin, "I'm not shady. Quite the opposite. Just made my way from Olmstead, passing through from Texas."<br/><br/>Tying the skin back onto his belt, Wade poked his hat up with a single finger, squinting as he cocked a gaze up at Jo. He knew her identity, and she was worth saving, he decided. Clearly trained in the basic of survival on the open range, she emanated a softer, uncalloused aura that the disreputable and desperate would take advantage to Jo's ruin. Wade set his gaze wide and drank in the harsh beauty of the surrounding hills and canyon faces. He sighed, knowing what he had to do next.<br/><br/>"Heard there was some kind of trouble near here a few days ago. Cattle rustlers? It's my job to find people, but ... I'm not here for them. I'm helping out a friend, searching for a rancher's daughter. Her father's mighty worried, and these are dangerous parts." Wade gradually mounted his horse, looking concerned. "Reckon she might pass through here." The rope lasso rested on a leather hook just behind Wade's left leg.<br/><br/>"Name's Wade Tillman, by the way ... What was yours?" he asked, cocking his head.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Her expression of interest and mild enjoyment, along with a hint of some warmth at his grin, dropped as soon as the man kept talking. Her twinkling eyes turned hard and stared with no little amount of anger and distress at Wade. Her mouth was pressed in a firm line, while her whole posture stiffened. She couldn't believe it. Gosh darn it, her father had been quicker to act than she'd thought. But why was this man coming after her? Jo would never have thought that her own family would put her life in the hands of a stranger. Whose friend was he? She'd know if he was acquainted with her father. So.... Lemmy?<i>I'll punch his face in when I see him next time. </i>Jo would feel seriously betrayed if Lemmy was taking part in this. Sometimes she felt like he was the only one that could really understand her. They hadn't gotten to talk very often, but every time they did - he'd proven to be a good listener and hadn't chided her on her wild dreams and ideas.<br/><br/>There was no use trying to play any games right now. He'd have to be a fool not to know who she really was. And she did not think that Wade Tillman was a fool. Even she would be able to guess her true origin: A clearly well dressed (despite wearing man's clothing) girl on a well bred horse and with skin and hands far too clean to be someone that had spent a lot of time outdoors doing hard work. She didn't hesitate when grabbing the colt, then pointing it with a surprisingly steady hand at the man. She didn't cock the gun or otherwise look like she might really shoot him, but the girl still wanted him to know that she was serious and if he'd push his luck - he just might be getting more than he'd bargained for.<br/><br/>"Listen to me. Turn around and go back to town. I can promise you that nobody out here wants or needs your help. Go find people that want to be found, mind your own damn business and stay out of my way or I'll make you regret it."<br/><br/>Her voice was cold and hard, her eyes unflinching as she glared at him. Maybe it'd be comical for him to be threatened by a young woman such as herself - but she would really make him regret looking down on her if he'd push this any further. It was a pity, she thought she could have liked this fella under any other circumstances. But, right now, he was just yet another male that thought he could take care of her and know better than herself what she should do with her life. He was someone that only wanted to butt in because she was a woman. And that was infuriating. She didn't give him much of a chance to retort, before the gun was back in its place at her belt and the woman had turned her horse around - away from him.<br/><br/>The movement was smooth and quick; the horse standing still one moment before turning sharply and dashing in the opposite direction the next. Jo clenched her legs around the mare, gave her her head and leaned forward in the saddle. If that Wade guy wanted to chase her, he'd have to be a damn good rider and have a really good horse. Lady was an exceptional runner and would no doubt be pushing herself even further if another horse started competing with her. The girl knew he wouldn't be shooting at her - especially if he was doing this as a favor to her father or Lemmy.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade cocked an eager smile when Jo drew her pistol on him. He took care not to laugh, sensing pride in the Bryson girl — pride enough to let passion rule over reason. Indeed, it must have been her intolerance to frustration laced with grief that drove the woman to Hangman's canyon in the first place. She was determined to the point of stubborn, undeterred by the presence of a man tempered by the desolate hardships of the Western plains. The weapon was uncocked, but the business end stared him down like a doorway to death itself. That smile faded as the gun remained, trained with a steady hand developed with practice. The Bryson girl might have shot some rounds in her spare time, but the unspoken laws of the Range were lost to her reckoning.<br/><br/>"Listen here," he said, "You're coming back with me ... coming back home to yer Pa. Ya hear? You ain't scaring no one with that colt. Savy? You're not stupid enough to actually shoot. Cuz, the way I see it, the worst you'll get is a stern talking to ... shooting me will earn ya the noose and shame on yer family." Wade urged Dusty to slowly approach, one hoof after the other. "Now ... put the gun down, Jo."<br/><br/>The woman chose to bolt just after Wade made his appeal. In his mind, the situation was quite clear and his terms quite generous. Wade registered Jo's withdrawal for a split-second before he flicked the reins with a loud "Eyaw!" in pursuit. Running, fleeing, racing away: if only Jo realized that that was how he caught half of his marks. The other half composed, primarily, of expertly crafted ambushes set to pin his quarry down in a moment of obvious disadvantage. That sense of hopelessness paused desperation, and often averted a deadly gunfight that risked both their lives needlessly. Thankfully, Jo decided against escalating into a Mexican stand-off. In Wade's experience, novices were more likely to pull a trigger when confronted by the prospect of a threat. Wade clearly would have preferred that Jo just see sense and cone along peacefully, but Wade knew — deep in his gut — that the woman would not go down without a struggle. And, if Wade were honest, he preferred it that way from the attractive lassie — Wade respected her grit, however misguided.<br/><br/>The prairie scrublands proved difficult terrain, with rivulets of ambient drainage creating mini-furrows unseen until the horse was about to break its ankle. Jo held the initial advantage, taking full advantage and gaining a formidable lead on the bounty hunter. Wade's heart raced as the woman dodged every stray bush and obstacle.<i>Damn, she's good</i>, Wade thought to himself as he forced himself to adapt and careen around the obnoxious scrublands. The woman knew the horse, and the horse her; some horses could take anyone, but it was immediately apparent when a rider and beast melded into a single, fluid body in motion. Admiring, Wade thought of himself and Dusty before committing to a change of tactic.<br/><br/>Riding wide, Wade left the rutty scrublands and found the familiar, hard-pack earth more amenable to his liking. Dusty appreciated he change of ground-type, tossing his head back before charging ahead to the likely junction point of their paths. Wade reached back, picking up his lasso without taking his eyes from the dark-haired rider. The rigors of racing began to unbraid her pony-tail even further and several clusters of strands whipped behind her. Both their shirts billowed in the forced breeze of their velocity, and Wade found the knot that bonded the lasso to his line. Wade's knees controlled Dusty then, though the horse knew what to do, having run down convicts and wanted men for most of its endangered life. Wade pulled out two arm's-length of line before setting the lasso into orbit around his head. Were he driving cattle, he'd be whooping and hollering to unnerve the beast, but Wade needed to catch Jo unharmed. That ethos immediately ruled out catching the horses back feet — a difficult throw that required a cowboy to land the lasso in front of the animal's hind legs before they reached the ground. The effect was the horse coming to a jerked halt and sending the rider airborne, usually to a broken bone or snapped spine. Again, neither Bryson father or daughter would approve of that particular method.<br/><br/>No, instead, Wade went to lasso about her upper body. The circles above his head whirled in a song of rope slicing air before he let loose. Wade's eyes went wide, and he quickly yanked back the line.<i>Damn</i>, had cursed — Wade miscalculated his trajectory, and the lasso would have fit snug about Jo's throat. Instead, thankfully, he only caught her hat, which tumbled backward and fell to the ground in a cloud of kicked up dust and frenzy of hoofs.<br/><br/>Wade continued his charging, steering with only his knees as he set his distance once more. The lasso swung above, and Wade was determined to snare Jo and end the insanity of her flight.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Despite the fact that she was currently on the run from a man that wanted to hunt her down and bring her back home to her enraged family, Jo found herself grinning from ear to ear as she all but hugged the neck of her powerful mare. Lady's whole body was stretched out, her legs were as sure as they were fast, and her ears were turning forward as she seemed to be just as excited as her owner was about the whole chase. Jo's heart was racing in her chest and she felt like she was flying, while the adrenaline kept pumping without stopping through her veins. Her eyes could barely even manage to keep up with looking out for obstacles that could prove fatal for both her and the horse, so, her entire faith was placed on the beautiful mare.<br/><br/>A quick peek over her shoulder confirmed that they had a good advantage over Wade Tillman and his horse.<i>Good. </i>She thought smugly to herself, a rather amused feeling starting to settle in her body. Perhaps this would be the first time in her life she'd best a man at something. A startled 'whoop' escaped her lips as the animal suddenly leaped over a rock, and again the young woman's focus was on what was ahead instead of lingering on what was going on behind her. A giggle started somewhere deep in her chest and she found herself suddenly laughing out loud. This was probably the single most exciting thing she'd ever done in her short life. Maybe she'd even be repeating it again in the future.<br/><br/>Maybe Jo would have changed tactics somehow and stopped being so sure of herself, if she'd guessed what Wade was up to. But maybe she wouldn't have stood a chance either way, not against his expert skills at hunting down people. All she was really capable of was staying seated on the charging animal, while wondering just when that annoying guy would give up his pursuit. Surely he wouldn't see the point in trying to catch someone that had no intentions of being caught. Frankly, he'd have to shoot her in order for her to give up. She was not prepared when she suddenly heard a weird 'whooshing' sound before the hat was snatched off of her head.<i>What the... </i>Jo straightened her back slightly and looked up with alarm. She barely managed to catch a glimpse of the brand new hat disappearing into the dust trail. The young female looked wildly around, trying to catch sight of the man that was supposed to be on her heels, and then she heard the whooshing again and looked up to see a lasso come her way.<br/><br/>"Holy cow!"<br/><br/>In her desperate attempt at somehow avoiding being caught, she pulled recklessly on the reins, causing Lady to jump up in the air and toss her head to the side. Momentarily, the female lost the reins from her hands. And at that same second, she felt the thick rope envelope her tightly in its embrace. Thankfully, her pursuer didn't pull harshly at the rope - otherwise Jo would have been pulled straight out of the saddle to tumble on the ground in a bloody mess. But, there was definitely enough pressure put on the rope for it to tighten around her arms and middle section until she ground out a curse. Her fingers stretched desperately forward, the reins still just out of reach. Lady was starting to lean her head dangerously low down, and with a last remaining effort - Jo let out a loud grunt as she all but threw her entire weight forward and caught the reins with her fingertips.<br/><br/>"Wooooaaaah, girl, wooooaah"<br/><br/>Her voice was slightly high pitched as she tried to calm the animal down, while also starting to struggle against the rope around herself. Her dark eyes were wide with anger and panic as Lady suddenly stumbled, almost sending the two of them flying to the ground. Thankfully, Jo managed to pull at the reins so the horse's head went up again and the mare slowed down as Jo kept muttering calming words to her. As soon as Lady had come to a slow trot, the female was turning her head to face the bastard that had caught her in the lasso.<br/><br/>"Release me at once, you lunatic! I'll have your head for this! Just you wait until I..."<br/><br/>The rest was lost in an angered mumble as she started struggling again, not caring the least bit if the rope was already digging into her flesh. Jo's hair was completely free now from the braid, the thick strands reaching almost all the way down to the saddle she sat on, and looking just about as wild as her expression at the moment. Her face was flushed and her lips slightly parted as she drew in rapid breaths, between muttering and cursing like no lady ever should.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>"Quiet down," Wade ordered. He gathered the slack from the lasso as Dusty approached, tugging firmly enough to maintain tension, but taking care not to send the woman backwards to the ground. The heat of mid-afternoon baked them both as Dusty inched closer to Lady's flank, the woman doing her best to soothe the agitated mare. Wade had her; though Jo struggled mightily and cursed with threats, both knew that the chase was over and that Jo was Wade's prisoner.<br/><br/>Wade found it laughable that the woman who had just drawn a weapon on him and raced over terrain rough enough to shatter both their horse's feet should be calling<i>him </i>a lunatic. The course length of tightly spun rope still remained in the bounty hunter's hand as he trotted near Jo's horse and dismounted. Though not a religious man, Wade sent a prayer heavenward that the death-defying chase had ended without one of them injured or killed. Wade sighed in relief as he reached out and relieved Jo of her loaded pistol. Stashing the weapon behind his belt, he worked the rope and tossed several loops around the woman's torso and chest.<br/><br/>"I am NOT letting you go, Josephine Bryce. I reckon yer father's waited and worried long enough. Don't you?"<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade didn't register Jo's reply, cursing the woman's lithe form which resisted each cinch he tightened; it was a challenge to property bind her fast, and she enjoyed more free movement than most quarry he had captured. Wade noticed Jo's hand wriggle loose, despite his best efforts.<i>Goddamn it</i>, Wade cursed. Wade realized that he was holding back, receiving mercy in a way more desperate men never knew from him. He didn't want to hurt the young woman, but he also sensed her irrationality and feared she'd do something stupid that might endanger them both in reckless spite. Pulling a length of soft, braided rope from a side pouch, Wade gingerly yanked Jo's hands behind her back and bound her wrists. Wade's knots bit a touch tighter than his lasso, and he smirked at the look on Jo's face.<br/><br/>"Just be happy I'm the one who caught ya. I've tracked men from Texas to Arizona and back, and the unholy men that tarry about these parts are vile. They'll rape and kill a pretty doll like you for a laugh. Yer tough, but not hard."<br/><br/>Satisfied with the tying job Jo wore like a rope dress and halter, Wade led them both -- holding the lasso end like a leash -- back to where Jo's hat fell from his errand lasso throw. "Still," Wade continued, "I can understand what you were after and why you did it. For what it's worth, I'd do the same thing were I in yer boots. That does NOT mean I'm lettin' ya go, ya hear? I heard about yer brother, and ... I'm real sorry to hear he died. I'd be angry, too."<br/><br/>Wade hopped down from his horse, his boots slamming onto the rock-hard ground. He mosied to the brown hat, picking it up slowly. The cowboy hat was well used -- well-loved? -- being made from high-quality leather. Wade pondered the hat a moment before striking the thing, creating a dust cloud. He coughed lightly, then cocked a eye up at the woman. He wondered if her gorgeous gaze was glowering or just stewing in anger. Either way, it didn't matter; Wade intended on delivering this pretty filly home. She wouldn't have her pride, but she also wouldn't have a sun-burnt face. Wade mounted Dusty and leaned to place the hat back upon Jo's raven black hair atop her head.<br/><br/>"Now, how about we ride all calm-like back to yer family ranch? I've got dangerous men to hunt down."<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Jo bristled and just about exploded once Wade had reached her and not only took her gun, but started roping her up like she was a criminal. Her mouth was set in a firm line at his words, it was none of his business whether her father was worried or not. The only reason her father was worried or had any sort of troubles with this trip of hers, it was solely because she was a woman. Anger at the injustice of being a female was making her struggle even more against the ropes. At this moment, she almost -almost- regretted not having shot Wade Tillman. But the anger was only going to be intensifying once she found him grabbing her hands and pulling them behind her back, to bind her wrists together.<br/><br/>"How dare you!?"<br/><br/>The shock of his actions made her look absolutely outraged as her eyes went huge in her face. That just about did it. His binding didn't exactly hurt, maybe pinched her a bit - and the more she fought the more it pinched. But it wouldn't have mattered if he did hurt her, she would almost prefer that to how gingerly he was trying to treat her, while stripping away all of her pride.<br/><br/>"I don't need any darn help! And especially not from a meddling -man-."<br/><br/>Venom dripped from her words as she spat them out between clenched teeth. At some point, she even tried kicking him as he started moving away. Fuming, she watched him go and fetch her hat, before he went back on his horse and leaned towards her to place said hat on her head. Reluctantly she leaned a bit towards him. If not for the fact that the sun was already roasting her exposed head, Jo would have recoiled from him like he'd been holding a snake. But as soon as the hat was on her head, she was quick to try and move away from him - like his very presence was offending her.<br/><br/>"Angry? You think I'm just doing this out of anger? This is about so much more than just that, Mr. Tillman. I need to know there is any sort of justice left in this world. There are rustlers running free, killing people and stealing cattle and I know this same bunch that went through here are the same ones that killed my brother! And I feel hurt and desperate because nobody will do anything to find these blasted killers. My brother is not going to be resting in peace until these men are found. They shot him in cold blood. Leaving his children without a father and his wife alone to handle the farm. I can't count on anyone but myself at this point. His family needs something to hold onto. They need to heal, we all do, but right now nobody is healing because we don't even know who is behind this. And everybody are too scared to do anything. The law is failing us. That damn sheriff is too busy visiting lady friends than doing his job and my brother is too much of a chicken shit to do things on his own... So nobody will help me..."<br/><br/>Her voice cracked and her vision went blurry, causing Jo to look up at the sky while counting slowly to ten. She was not about to cry in front of a stranger, especially not this particular fella that currently had her tied up like she was a runaway cattle. Once she'd gathered her composure, she looked in his direction again with a softer expression and clear pleading in her dark eyes. The earlier anger had yielded to her grief and her desperation to get any sort of help.<br/><br/>"Mr. Tillman. I can assure you that as soon as you drop me off at home, I will escape again and come back out here. However," she licked her lips, wondering if she could actually persuade him into what she was about to say, "if you help me out, I promise I'll behave. We don't have to hurry back home now that you've found me and are assured nobody will do me harm. So I mean, what if you just hadn't found me this quickly, what if I had managed to spend one night out here and find some clues or any sort of information before I'd be forced to head back home? Who would really know? I certainly wouldn't tell anyone."<br/><br/>The desperation was clear in her tight voice and the way she kept looking at him like he was her last hope right now.<br/><br/>"Please. Just let me look a bit more. Help me find some tracks and then we can go home. I just know that these are the same men as those that came a year ago to my brother's ranch and killed him. And I just need to find anything to prove that, if not just a shoe print that matches. Otherwise I will never feel at ease. I will not fight you or try to escape, I'll do everything you say. Just please, help me out. If you really know how it feels to have someone you love ripped away from you, then you will not deny my request."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade huffed a quiet sigh. He averted Jo's gaze, which he felt steadily upon him. Wade stared out over the wide range of Wyoming grasslands, swaying gently in the warm, parched breeze. He was afraid that Jo would ask for his assistance, that was why Wade had been so eager to start off out of Hangman's canyon. Wade wasn't a fool, especially to himself; Wade knew a just cause when it reached his ears and felt the soft quell of capitulation consuming his gut. Resigned, Wade turned to face Jo, seeing her tearful eyes and hearing her quietly desperate words. His eyebrows arched forward and he returned a gaze that betrayed his every intention to help, despite a voice decrying the request as a ruse. Wade had heard every excuse on God's green earth from quarries after being caught. Most men just sneered or cursed him at their plight and inescapable fate. The outlaws that spoke usually made threats or promises of payment to convince Wade to release them and look the other way. Those were dishonest men, and the question was whether Jo would stoop to such depths to run her ill-fated quest to ruin.<i>No</i>, Wade told himself; she was made of honest stuff, he sensed.<br/><br/>With another sigh — this time with mild aggravation — Wade moved Dusty to side-step next to Lady. Wade's fingers worked at the myriad knots he had just succeeding in tightening about the skinny woman. The accomplishment was short-lived as Wade unlooped each spiral of coiled rope around Jo, except for one. He kept the original lasso in place, as he also kept Jo's hand bound behind her back. Wade was trusting, but not a fool. Agreeing to help the Bryson girl did not mean exposing him to every liability he had fought to hard to overcome. He still had a job to do — the man with three horses and a bank's worth of pure gold still roamed the prairie. Wade allowed himself to be side-tracked finding Jo as a favor to Lemmy, but that would not obstruct the important task he was paid to perform; Wade simply did not have the time and patience to chase Jo a second time. But, that did not preclude him from assisting her. She was clearly desperate, and the tears in her eyes were shed for the brother she loved. Wade wished a woman could love him as dearly as Jo loved her brother. He poked his hat up as he spoke.<br/><br/>"Alright, I'll help you. But, you listen here ... I'm gonna hold you to yer word. If you run or wander off, I<i>will</i>find you. And when I do, you'll be walking back behind Dusty the entire way. Clear?"<br/><br/>Satisfied at having said his peace, Wade moved on holding the end of the lasso. Lady knew to follow along, being smart enough to recognize when she was being led and not hearing protesting words from her mistress. They both rode on for several minutes with Wade's eyes glued to the ground. On occasion, he'd break his glance toward the distant horizon for the silhouettes of unwanted visitors. The idea of being isolated in a hostile landscape with a female prisoner did not please Wade, but his word was his bond, and he continued scanning the ground. Finally, Wade came across two finds at once and he stopped the horses. He dismounted and stooped as he began studying details lost to Jo's perspective.<br/><br/>The area had been — both from grazing and typographically — chewed up from being the feeding grounds for multiple herds of cattle for some decade. Wade could see the rivulets reaching out from the canyon falls, whose minor tumult still echoed from their left side. The wet soil seeped to either side of the small streams, like long, lateral sponges dotted with sprigs of mallow grass. Thousands of hoof prints marred the soft mud, but Wade's keen eye spotted a impression that differed from the bovine masses. It was a horse print, deep from heavy exertion of top speed. The horse and rider arrived from the west, and as Wade scanned up the mottled brown stream-bank he noticed several other horse prints at the same orientation and speed.<br/><br/>The horse prints were the first clue, and the brass shell casings were the second. The late afternoon sun glinted its rays off the coppery, metallic tubes. Several could be seen against the dry, dusty ground, most were scattered in loose piles or elongated trails from reloading on horseback. Either way, the offenders wielded .45 Colts and, judging by the sheer number of casings that littered the ground, the men were terrible shots. The deceased rancher was accompanied by two ranch hands. Though armed, it should not have taken the four men fifty shots. Wade figured they might have charged without mettle and shot wildly in the hopes of frightening off the rancher. The next scene, however, buried that theory as he found hallowed ground.<br/><br/>"This spot here ... is where the rancher likely died," Wade proclaimed sadly. He took his hat in his hand and pressed it lightly to his chest in honor. Wade closed his eyes and swallowed lightly. "Four men came west across the stream to these parts, firing all the way. The cattle scattered, and the bandits moved in. I suspect the rancher took a wound and fell from his horse." The stubby plants were crushed and their leaves in disarray under their feet. In front of Wade were two sets of prints: one of a man kneeling and one with large feet facing him. "The man who pulled the trigger was large, taller and broader than me. He delivered the killing shot." Wade returned his hat atop his head and drew his long knife. He tapped into the ground in several locations, until his blade tip scraped with the sound of metal on metal. The knife dug and pried loose the soil, exhuming a blood-tipped bullet. Wade stood the deadly artifact upright where the rancher had died. He watched the woman, unsure how she would cope with the immediacy of the event. Wade wondered if he should try to comfort her, but decided against it, owing to the mercurial dispositions of a distraught woman. The urge for vengeance didn't sully Wade's veins, but a spark for justice did ring in his ear — it was a tune Wade was long accustomed to ignoring.<br/><br/>Wade stood, looking weary, then motioning his hand behind Jo.<br/><br/>"The rustlers drove the herd that way ... west by southwest? Easy enough to see the trampled vegetation left in the cattle's wake. We can follow the trail out of the canyon, but I have a hunch where they're headed. Even I've heard of Bozeman Flats, which is somewhere you don't venture into unless your ready for a fight." Wade looked skyward, momentarily disappointed in the position of the sun. He had hoped to have more time, but one could only afford what God provided. "Let's follow the trail to make sure Bozeman's where they were headed. After that ... we'll need to spend time searchin' for a place to camp."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Jo held her breath after she was done with speaking. She knew she had reached to him somehow. Her words, the pleading, the tears - it would not have worked on other men. Those with heart made of stone, but she could see from the expression on his face that he was not one of those men. He looked mildly irritated, which was something she could very well deal with - just as long as he'd help her out. Jo's dark eyes rested on him as he moved closer to her. Lady snorted and nipped at the air next to Dusty's neck, but didn't move away or protest in any other manner when rider and horse were so close.<br/><br/>The female had to blink back another wave of tears, this time from relief, as she felt Wade starting to undo the many knots on the rope around her. Could it really be that he'd help her out? Would a complete stranger do the one thing for her that nobody else, not even her family, would do? If ever she felt like randomly hugging someone, then this was that moment. But she was still left with a little bit of discomfort and unease in her stomach as he kept the lasso still around her middle, and her wrists were still tied behind her back. A part of her wanted to protest against this, but the majority of her rational thinking told her to just suck it up and be glad he seemed to be caving in to her words.<br/><br/>"Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise I wont do anything rash if we are going to be tracking those men."<br/><br/>Her voice trembled from all the emotions that were raging through her: The gratitude, the sorrow, the relief plus the small amount of excitement over this whole turn of events. My oh my how nobody would ever be able to guess that Miss Josephine Rose Bryson would be alone in the company of a rugged and handsome cowboy... whom currently had her tied up while searching for her brother's killers. Her excitement was quick to be extinguished at those following thoughts, and the female mentally scolded herself and her wicked thoughts. Why was it that she could never learn to behave and think like a proper lady?<br/><br/>The minutes were slow to pass underneath the sun as they moved over the dry ground. Jo was busy with watching Mr. Tillman while also scanning the ground in hopes of seeing something. But of course, her untrained eyes would never be able to pick up anything. Which was why she almost toppled off of Lady while trying to see what it was that Wade had spotted, causing him to stop their horses. Jo had to bite down on her lower lip to stop herself from bombarding the male with questions the moment his boots hit the dusty ground. No doubt he'd need some time to think and inspect what he'd found, and there was also the fact that no man seemed to particularly enjoy her overly inquisitive personality. But now she felt like she could really relax and trust this man's skills when it came to tracking. For the most part at least.<br/><br/>Oh, she wished he'd hurry up! She was craving to hear him explain what he'd found. If it was really a clue or not. But when he finally did speak out, his words didn't exactly make her feel relieved or glad. Rather, her complexion got pale and she found herself swallowing hard a few times, despite her mouth having gone as dry as the ground under them. A tremble ran through her and she had an alarmingly strong urge to throw up. But seeing how she was still tied up and couldn't really get anywhere, and would rather not vomit over Lady, she clamped her mouth shut and breathed slowly in and out of her nose. She had thought there was maybe a chance, maybe the rancher would have been alive. Held captive. She wanted to believe that something good could also happen, but her hopes were crushed.<br/><br/>The young female couldn't comprehend the cruelty of humans, how they could so easily kill each other without thinking about those that were left behind. Even if she had wanted to look cool and collected, she found herself weeping softly while mourning for the lives lost. Her mouth trembled as she tried to hold back the small sobs, and she felt a little bit infuriated by the fact that she could not even hide her crying face behind her hands - but had to display her sorrow in such a manner for Wade.<br/><br/>Jo nodded miserably to Wade's words. She was too upset to really say anything at this point. Only really wanted to have a moment to herself so she could regain her composure. Once they started moving again, and she felt very grateful for him not mentioning her crying, she started to calm down and was watching her surroundings in an alert manner. When they started leaving the canyon, Jo was watching all the prints on the ground - and then her eyes spotted the broken fences. They were depressing to the eye, because they were supposed to mark ownership and people were supposed to respect them. And yet there were still people whom wouldn't even hesitate a moment before violating all of the laws. Taking cattle was offense and hurtful enough... but the killing. It had to stop. And Jo was about to help out with that, with the help of Wade Tillman.<br/><br/>"Do you... see anything else? How can you know what the killer looks like just from looking at the ground? Where did you learn how to do this? Can anyone learn it?"<br/><br/>She couldn't keep quiet any longer. Absolutely couldn't. Her voice was a little weak, her eyes were a bit red and so was the tip of her nose, but Jo could do little about that. What would make her feel better at this moment, was to have some questions answered.<br/><br/>"What do you reckon they did ... with the rancher ... afterwards? You don't think he's just laying out here somewhere? Or buried where you found the tracks?"<br/><br/>Her already large eyes turned huge in her pale face as she thought of that possibility.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Jo Bryson had either taken a liking to Wade or felt comfortable enough to impose her chattering curiosity. Either way, Jo's questions kept coming and each word she spoke distracted the veteran tracker from the task she had asked of him. The broken line of fences laid scattered in several disheveled piles, and the lack of border had been quickly capitalized upon by the random steers that grazed the Canyon plains. Animals didn't recognize the boundaries of men, always seeking to consume and survive in the open<i>tableau</i>of the natural world. In Wade's mind, criminals followed the same base motivation, sharing a mutual lack of consequence. The difference was that animals were ignorant of ramifications, whereas criminals sought to avoid the price of their deplorable activities. Wade had seen the wide spectrum of violations against civilian society, citizenry, and property; the crimes committed in Hangman's Canyon set a new low for what Wade expected from his fellow humanity.<br/><br/>"I can't talk and track at the same time," Wade said, patiently. His eyes refused to leave the ground, though there was little else to the mystery that needed to be unraveled. The three, broad paths flanked by horse hoof-marks all led to a location just over the near hill, it's topography hiding the carnage of week old men having been picked apart by the vultures that still perched near their find. Wade had a mind to shoot the pink-necked carrion birds out of spite, but held his anger for fear of attracting undue attention. They were out of range, anyway, meaning that the gruesome condition of the corpses could be masked for a while longer.<br/><br/>Wade stopped and dismounted. He walked to Lady reached up to Jo. "Lean over ... time to get down." Wade caught Jo as she expertly slid down from the saddle, standing in such a way so that she fell forward into him. Her mass and bosom pressed against Wade's iron chest, and Wade held her waist until she was standing securely upright. The brief moment of intimate contact took Wade's breath away, as did the close-up view of her dazzling, colorful eyes. He found her cheeks ruddy from the heat, and her dark hair was every inch as attractive as he thought it might have been. Wade stood stunned, mouth slightly agape, gripped by a sudden and intense attraction to Jo. The tears she had cried left tracks of diluted dust from the corner of her eyes, and Wade cleared his throat and lowered his boyish eyes.<br/><br/>The fact remained that, in a manner of speaking, Jo remained an open bounty and her escape would be a major pain in the ass. But, Wade had met and spoken with many people in his torrid and dangerous life. One reality Wade had learned early on in his bloody career was to never underestimate someone's ability to lie through their teeth. In spite of his nagging memory and hard-boiled pessimism, Wade found himself implicitly trusting Jo. Was it her naivety? Her innocence and unbridled sense of right from wrong? Either way, despite the calculable risk it presented, Wade refused to have Jo endure another minute of discomfort under the late, Wyoming sun.<br/><br/>Wade firmly spun Jo clockwise and began to untie his lasso. Once the stout rope fell into a wide circle about Jo's boots, Wade worked to release the bonds that held her wrists fast. Taking the shorter length of rope, Wade tied Lady's halter to Dusty's reins before reaching behind his back to produce Jo's revolver. Wade held the weapon by the frame, muzzle pointed skyward. Extending his arm, he was about to return her firearm ... until he lifted the revolver up and out of her reach. He could have been taunting her were it not for the grave look upon his face.<br/><br/>"Just a friendly warning," Wade intoned. "Don't draw yer gun unless ya mean to kill. It's one of the unspoken laws of the Range."<br/><br/>The bounty hunter surrendered Jo's weapon into her hands, ignoring her reaction to his admonishment. He didn't care, telling himself that he'd save her life if she heeded his advice. Gunslingers could draw and fire in the blink of an eye, and holding out a revolver conveyed a constant threat that begged to be answered. Reputations also crossed state and territory lines, and being renowned for pulling a weapon and not firing diminished one's standing, rendering any words in discourse as idle boasts.<br/><br/>Wade took a last gaze out along the grassy horizon, lit with long shadows from the late afternoon sun. Satisfied no one observed them, Wade eased his demeanor and began opening up.<br/><br/>"I'll answer all yer questions, just one at a time." Wade wasn't sure how he would be able to keep up with Jo's voracious mind, whose mind grappled what information he offered, like a freed animal from a cage. "My Pa taught me to track, and I was a scout during the War. Spent time in Texas, ended up living there after Pa died. Soon got paid finding men for a living and been doing it ever since." Wade sighed quietly, the years of hardship etched into each crease upon his rugged face. "It's not something you can pick-up in an afternoon. If we had more time I could share the basics. But, as our circumstances dictate, you'll have to just watch me."<br/><br/>Wade directed his index and index finger back from where they had come, where they found the bloody bullet in the firm, dust-packed soil. "The killer left faint prints wider and larger than most, and his steps from there are farther apart than normal. He stands just shy of six foot six, I'd reckon. As for the rancher and his cowboys ..." Wade grew silent, furrowing his eyebrows into a dire mood. "They were dragged by horses to the edge of the Canyon. Probably just dumped off the side or in some ditch. I'd bury them, but I ain't got no shovel on me. I need to find them and give their bodies some peace." Wade turned toward where the men likely laid, sun-bleached and picked over as carrion. "Jo, I don't want you watching. It's not something anyone should see. You should start searching for a campsite, somewhere surrounded by rocks of bluffs to hide the fire from anyone in the horizon."<br/><br/>His eyes implored her as his voice came both warm and calm. "You think you can do that?"<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>His answer, although not unkind, was enough to make her close her mouth abruptly and refrain from asking any more questions... for now. Of course he needed his full attention with what she had personally asked him to do, it was silly of her to think he might want to or have time to be paying attention to her as well. The seconds ticked by, she kept trying to look and see what he was checking out. Tried getting into his head, to figure out just what he was thinking. It was actually rather fascinating seeing how he blocked out anything but what he was currently doing. Her pink tongue poked at the corner of her mouth as she tried her hardest to concentrate and focus just as much as he was, although she had no real idea just what she should be focusing on. All she could really see were a lot of tracks on the ground after various animals.<br/><br/>Once Wade dismounted and came to her side, Jo looked for a moment down into his face, before obeying him and leaning in his direction before swinging her legs free of the stirrups. She didn't hesitate to wonder if he would really catch her, but just let herself fall down and land against his strong body. This was, of course, extremely scandalous - but little to do about that. Once she felt the ground underneath her feet, she looked up into his face - only to have her breath stolen from her upon looking into his eyes. There was something about how he was looking at her that caused her mouth to dry up and her heart to skip a few beats. It was ridiculous, really, as she had just met the man. But the effects remained nonetheless. A faint pink color entered her cheeks as she looked down to the ground, avoiding that intense gaze of his. This was the first time in her short life she'd ever felt as self conscious when around a man. And it was really disturbing to her.<br/><br/>A small gasp escaped the female when she was so suddenly spun around, before she figured out just what he was doing. Relief coursed through her veins and she breathed out a soft sigh once she found the tightness of the lasso being removed. Once her wrists were free as well, she was quick to move her hands in front of her and rub at the tender flesh. Not that it had particularly hurt, he had made sure that she wouldn't experience much discomfort. Her eyes followed the cowboy around as he moved to the horses and tied Lady to Duster. The female then stood still and waited once he approached her again, this time holding the revolver she'd stolen from her brother. She reached a hand forward, but grabbed at nothing but empty air when the gun was lifted out of her reach. Her brows furrowed as she looked at Wade, before a stronger shade of crimson colored her face upon his words. She still couldn't even believe she had actually pointed that weapon at him earlier.<br/><br/>"Thank you..." Was her murmured reply, both to him handing the gun back as well as having untied her.<br/><br/>Once Wade started speaking, she was eagerly drinking in his words. The information about his past, how he'd learned this trait, how he'd been using it. She wanted to ask him so many more questions that it almost hurt the poor girl to keep her mouth shut. Wade would at least notice how she was pursing her lips together with an intent expression on her pretty face, while she also watched him closely as he was explaining about the tracks. It was absolutely fascinating to her. When he mentioned the lack of time, the words were blurted out faster than one could blink.<br/><br/>"How long are you staying in town for?"<br/><br/>The hurried question escaped her mouth before she had even become aware of having opened it in the first place. That question was not something a young lady should be asking a cowboy she had just met, and despite her nature, she managed to look somewhat embarrassed by her own bold words. But it would be clear just why she had asked. Obviously, he was supposed to be teaching her some basic tracking if he'd be staying around long enough. If of course, she'd ever be let out of her house again once they'd return home. However, as Wade continued talking, so did she get more uncomfortable. Automatically her eyes scanned the surroundings as if she expected to be seeing someone laying on the ground. Her stomach felt a bit queasy and she turned a little green as well. How horrible to have to lie out here, being eaten by the vultures and nobody to be able to bury you.<br/><br/>Jo was quick to nod at his words, because she had no real desire to be viewing the corpses. She turned on her heel and walked a few steps away before stopping and taking in a deep breath, before exhaling slowly. This was alright. She could do this. Just if she'd manage to stop thinking about the poor men that had gotten killed. When Wade went off towards where the corpses were, Jo grabbed at Duster's reins and pulled the horses behind her while searching for a good spot. She didn't go so far as to leave Wade's line of sight, and soon enough she found a spot that seemed pretty good. There she waited for the cowboy to return, absentmindedly fiddling around with the sleeves of the shirt that was too big for her.<br/><br/>Jo let her mind wander, thinking about what Wade had told her about himself. It felt like his answers had only served to fire up a million more questions in her mind. He was a pretty interesting fella, even if he wasn't a guy she was supposed to be talking to. If she wanted to meet him again to get more information and to learn new things, she'd be needing a chaperone with her. Of course, she could always bully Armstead a bit more and make him escort her around town...<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade felt a wave of relief, along with budding affection, when Jo agreed to comply with his instructions. They were out in semi-dangerous country, exposed, and trying to be productive — the last thing aware wanted to tolerate was a stubborn, petulant harpy making both their lives more difficult. Jo did as Wade instructed, not because she was weak, but because she was sensible. Her father would likely contest that claim when he reprimanded her upon return, but Wade knew differently. Despite only having been around Jo for a fraction of time, Wade felt in his bones that — though spirited — Jo ventured out to Hangman's Canyon because she acted with deep passion over the things she cared about.<i>I can't fault her for that,</i>Wade told himself,<i>no man ever should</i>.<br/><br/>An odd sense of nervous energy pervaded Wade then. Whenever he looked at Jo, listened to her speak, he could only apprehend her lovely eyes. Those orbs were so full of life and interest; they enticed to the point of invitation; Wade wanted to ignore the danger and Wyoming heat to lose himself in their depths. With an intense, private exhale, Wade gratefully departed, leaving Jo with Lady and her appointed task. Following the flat drag marks proved easy enough, and when Wade reached the top of the ridge he held his breath for the sight he knew awaited him. The spectacle of the three men struck Wade with deceptive ease, and at first he predicted his own self-appointed task would be a snap. Thankfully, Wade did not need to scale down the canyon and, owing to the laziness of the assailants, he simply slide down a shallow ravine to where the three men laid still as death.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/carbonco-vulture-500px-jpg.2240/" title="CarbonCo-Vulture-500px.jpg">
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</div></div><br/>Half a dozen vultures sat perched on tree branches, gray and bleached like driftwood as their boughs extended over the canyon like a reaper's sickle. They uttered their infernal, growling croak in protest, and Wade had a mind to kill the damn birds on principle. He refrained as the stench of death met his nostrils -- enough death had been dealt in this accursed valley, he would not be responsible for any more this day. Wade's eyes evaded the rancher's mangled faces as he took hold of their ankles, dragging them to a single pile of corpses. Only upon seeing the men in macabre concert did Wade's vision sweep up to fully apprehend their gruesome condition. The dead men looked as if a flock of vultures had not eaten in a month -- all six eyes were the first to be picked out, with only bone and bloody cartilage remaining where once were faces and chests. Wade prepared himself for exposed entrails, but cavernous voids existed where bowels should have been -- picked clean like scooped out pumpkins with a hundred, merciless sharp instruments.<br/><br/>Sickening heat and dizziness, then the horrid burn of acid in his throat as Wade emptied his stomach next to the dead men. He spit, but the rancid dribble from his lip only thinned as he forced himself to breath, hoping to quell the second round of purging. Wade failed, and coughed violently afterwards. More spitting, and the last session of retching cleared the darkness from his mind. The corpses were no less gruesome, but he found a barrier between himself and the anguish that struck him on a core, emotional plane. It was a place Wade hoped to have achieved, resigned to endure the hardship of physical horror if it meant saving Jo from the harsh reality of death.<br/><br/>Heavy breaths measured his progress as Wade collected stone and rocks to build an above-ground cairn. The individual pieces would need to be of suitable weight to prevent vultures from digging through the pile with their beaks in an attempt to feed on the rest of the available flesh. After an hour, the pile became high and wide, a gentle, elliptical curve defining the burial mound as man-made and worthy of an honor not granted at the time of their death. Wade's constructive imagination caught sight of numerous other tell-tale signs on the men's bodies: the imprint of coiled rope around their necks, the wear on the back of their clothes from being dragged so unceremoniously, the bullet wound in the center of the lead rancher's chest. Wade felt a solid object in the rancher's breast pocket and pulled out a silver hound's head about three inches long. He twisted the top and the head became a lid revealing a bundle of matches. Whether the rancher smoked cigarettes or cigars was unknown, since either were most likely pillaged before being desecrated. Wade placed the ornamented personal item in his pocket, intending on returning it to the rancher's wife.<br/><br/>Wade took his time as he made his way to the camping spot Jo had selected. Each step from the burial mound brought a greater degree of peace, though discord still roiled in the man. The nervous affection he felt for Jo was obscured then, and he bent over to collect fragments of dried branches for the fire that would keep them warm later. The color in Wade's face would look pale to Jo as he entered the camp area. He quietly laid the bundle of firewood in the center of the space and made a circle of stones without saying a word. His brow remained constantly furrowed and his eyes looked ... inward. Wade did not speak to Jo, but hovered near her and sat closer than he otherwise would have. He didn't seem to know what he was doing, nor did he care if his proximity was proper or improper.<br/><br/>Wade swallowed, hard.<br/><br/>He took a match from the hound head case and started the small fire. The sky had just turned from crimson to peach to pale darkness. Wade sighed then spoke quietly. "I've got ... jerky in my bag. You can take what you want. I'm ... not hungry." The small flicker of the nascent fire reflected in his still eyes.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>She had always felt like the lands around here gave her peace of mind and helped her reach a certain state of clarity. No matter how warm the sun would be or if the female was getting drenched with rain. Every chance she'd gotten, she would have asked Armstead or even her father to ride out with her so she might pursue this feeling even further. Of course, they had never taken her as far as to this canyon, but the landscape in itself hadn't changed all that much. The swaying grass that made whispering sounds in the gentle wind sounded just the same as when Jo was lingering around the house back home at the ranch. But now as her eyes stared out towards the horizon, she didn't feel that sense of peace anymore. Now she could only see the land as something hostile and unforgiving. It was wrong of her to be placing her negative feelings onto nature like that, but Jo didn't know how else to act. The murders that had taken place had indeed tainted whatever beauty the land held.<br/><br/>Closing her eyes with a soft shake of her head, the female turned and walked to the horses. She let Wade's horse sniff at her palm before petting it lovingly, and then she hugged Lady's head to her. Seeing how they were going to be stopping here for the night, she started taking the saddles off the horses and wiped them down with powerful strokes. She'd sometimes helped out with this part of the farm work back home - and was now thankful if she could do any good at all. Her mind ventured towards Wade and what he was probably currently doing. Honestly, the female couldn't help but admire him for being able to so bravely go to the corpses. Jo didn't think she'd be able to - no matter how cowardly that made her sound.<br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fs-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com%2F736x%2F69%2F01%2F63%2F690163c95f229058ac871ca59eb01863.jpg&amp;hash=3a7bf406b1afd3dd163628818e374701" title="690163c95f229058ac871ca59eb01863.jpg">
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</div></div><br/>Once she was done tending to the horses, she peered up at the sky, noting how it was gradually starting to get dimmer once the sun started lowering down. Nervousness threatened to nip at her, but Jo wouldn't allow it to. She was more than capable of spending a night out here. Even if it meant she'd have to do so with a complete stranger. At least she still had her gun, even if she couldn't really picture herself firing at anyone. Maybe just the coyotes if they'd get too friendly.<br/><br/>The female turned her head in the direction of Wade's footsteps, Jo swallowing a couple of times as she watched him approaching the camping spot. He held some dried branches, but what caught her eye was how pale his complexion seemed to be. Of course, he was just human after all. He had had to deal with the dead men all by himself, and she couldn't even begin to comprehend how difficult that must have been. While watching him work, she sat down near the saddles and drew her legs up to her chest. It was somehow calming to watch the man prepare the fire - perhaps just because that meant he wouldn't be gazing so intently at her while being busy with something else. But despite her slight fear, she still felt worried for him. His expression alone was enough to make her wonder if he was going to be fine. Once he was done with his work, he came over in her direction, and the female sat up straighter while watching him warily. When the man seated himself down next to her, the young female stared straight ahead while wondering if she should remind him that she was not a woman he could take any pleasantries with. But a glance in his direction showed that he did not seem the least bit interested in anything forbidden.<br/><br/>His expression still had that closed off, distant look as he lit the match he held. His words drew her gaze to his mouth, before she reached backwards towards the bag in question. She'd stored their belongings next to the saddles they were sitting against, thinking it best to keep everything close by hand. A moment's hesitation came over her, before she opened the bag and retrieved a bit of the jerky. Her stomach growled out loudly at that moment, causing Jo to blush a little bit while she leaned further over the saddle to reach the water canteen. After having retrieved it, she held it out towards Wade.<br/><br/>"Drink. Are you... alright?"<br/><br/>If he wouldn't accept the offer straight away, she'd put the canteen down on the ground between them. If he would accept it, and even answer the question, she'd return to chewing on the jerky while stretching her long jean-clad legs while listening to him. She felt tired and sore everywhere, but mostly she felt how her feet were still hurting. It wasn't proper at all to show him her naked feet, or to even be sitting close enough to him that she'd only need to lean to the side to have her shoulder touch his, but Jo decided that now was not the time or place to be worrying about such trifle matters. So she determinedly chomped down on the jerky, before she lifted her feet up and started pulling the torturous boots off. A pained groan and a whimper came from her as she struggled to get the damn things off. But once she felt the fresh air play against her feet, she leaned a bit back with a pleased sigh. The blisters and rubbing wounds weren't all that bad now that she looked at them, even if they hurt like hell.<br/><br/>"Thank you, for ... taking care of them."<br/><br/>She motioned in the direction of where the dead men lay. Maybe it wasn't good to be bringing it up, but she still wanted to let him know that she was thankful and didn't think little of his good deed.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>"Yeah, I'm fine. Just ... not hungry." Wade eyes considering the offer as his fingers reached slowly for the canteen. He nodded faintly, lifting one end of his lips in a phantom smile of a rascal bereft of joy. "Thanks," he said. The container shook slightly in the dancing firelight, though Wade quickly hung the water bottle between his bent legs, shielding it from sight. Wade released a great sigh, then threw a thin twig he had been stripping into the fire. It burned quickly, flames licking the ends in curling wisps before the body turned orange in fiery consumption.<br/><br/>The sight of Jo peeling off her<i>clearly new</i>boots almost forced a chuckle from the man. Wade found little use or comfort in new things of any ilk. New things were untested, untried, unpredictable; the glimmer caught the eye in dusty towns, implying wealth and success where nothing needed proving. Granted, Wade preferred items that functioned over clinging to thread-bare trinkets for the sake of sentimentality. However, relying upon gear with ones very life meant that those things — guns, boots, tacking — should already be melded to their owners use and habit.<br/><br/>Jo's words of gratitude meant a great to Wade; he never expected appreciation for doing what was right, but her observance validated the horror he had endured. "Thanks," he said, quietly. Wade found the condition of Jo's feet anything but humorous, and he untied the red, patterned bandana that hung fastened about his neck. "Let me take care of that." He spoke in a soft tone intolerant of dissent. Adding water, he wrung the fabric clean and added more water before holding the garment over the open flame. Soon, the bandana began to steam and Wade wrapped each of her sore feet in turn. "Old trick. Doesn't cure blisters, but it still feels mighty good."<br/><br/>Wade woke up then, more aware of himself without the cloud of macabre memory flagging his sanity. The situation could become a predicament if a single condition affecting them turned against their favor. The location Jo selected hid their fire from the surrounding plains, for the grasslands at night still held dangers — prowling killers; savage Sioux or Cheyenne raiders; and spectral devils that roam the wild to rape the souls of the innocent. For the moment, they were safe from such concerns. Dusty heard better than a German guard dog and made short, bark-like neighs whenever intruders crept near. They had enough food, clean water (though Wade held a taste for whiskey then, the trauma from the afternoon had seeped to his core), and sufficient arms in case bandits arrived uninvited.<br/><br/>In the end, the cold, northern breeze caused Wade the most concern. The gust bit like a Montana winter, and it whipped up suddenly and nearly extinguish the flames. The smothered fire caused their meager illumination to flicker and dampening for a moment before burning brightly in life once again. A sudden rush of fatigue gripped Wade, and a stifled yawn betrayed his sleepiness. Wade hung the bandana to dry over a rock and retrieved his bed roll from the pile of gear. He untied the strings that bound the fabric spiral in shape, and spoke. "Only have one bedroll. You're gonna need it tonight."<br/><br/>Wade spoke the only option he wanted Jo to consider. The best option would be for them to share the bedroll, using each others heat to combat the chill. The nights had been getting brisk riding up from Texas, and the Wyoming night that awaited them would grant little mercy. Sharing the bedroll or sleeping so close to one another would be ... well, Wade certainly wouldn't mind, but he didn't wish have a powerful rancher — a man who trusted Lemmy — cross with him over possible impropriety. Wade would need to rise early and work hard to break the cold that would surely linger in his bones come morning light. It would be a small price to pay; Wade had dealt with the dead men to shield Jo from the horror of death, he would wrap her warm to stave off the cold night air.<br/><br/>"I'll be up watching the fire, standing guard," Wade said. He unfurled a long coat from his supplies and pushed his arms through the heavy coat. It was not a blanket, but would have to do for that night. Wade slowly drew his Colt revolver and checked the loading chambers before spinning the cylinder back into place. He rested his wrists upon his knees as he sat before the fire. Shadows clung to the man.<br/><br/>"Reckon, you can either sleep or ... ask me more questions." Wade smiled brighter, in no small part thanks to Jo's pretty face and ardent concern. Stretching his legs out near the fire, Wade felt oddly eager to conclude this trip. "I'm not headed anywhere at the moment."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>What was he implying when he said he'd take care of it? Her large eyes followed his every movement, from him unwrapping the bandanna and pouring water over it, until he was done steaming it over the fire. And then she instinctively jumped a bit when he reached towards her petite and blistered feet. Jo felt thankful he was concentrating on the task at hand, so he didn't see how her cheeks instantly heated and turned crimson over having a man touching her there. She flinched a little bit when he wrapped the bandanna over the sore and blistered skin, but it truthfully didn't hurt all that much - it was more just the contact that made her feel jumpy and on guard. His large hands were gentle, and she had a tough time picturing Wade as someone that hunted people down for a living. The relief of the treatment soon made her relax, and she felt truly thankful for the aid.<br/><br/>"Thank you..."<br/><br/>The female murmured softly under her breath as she kept on staring at him. Then she averted her eyes, afraid he'd actually catch her watching him so closely. Out from the corner of her eye, she saw him go get the bedroll, and again her heart started hammering almost painfully in her chest. Would they have to share it? But Wade was proving to be more of a gentleman than she would have imagined. It was obvious from the troubled look on her face that she didn't like being the only one that would use the bedroll. But at the same time, even she with her wild and bold personality, couldn't offer to share it with him. It was out of the question, no matter how guilty she felt over taking the one thing that could keep a person warm during the chilly nights out here. Wade had a better chance of braving against the cold than she ever would – that was a fact she had to admit to. Even if Jo hated being the weaker one here.<br/><br/>So, the female accepted the bedroll, but after placing it down she turned and rummaged through her own bags. In just a second, she turned back to face Wade, now holding a rather badly knitted light pink colored blanket with white frills on it. She had made this herself a year ago, more so her mother had forced her to, even if it looked more like a child had made it – seeing how little patience and knack the female had for the feminine handwork. A rather awkward and embarrassed expression crossed her fair features as she offered the blanket to Wade. She had troubles picturing the rugged cowboy ever wrapping himself up in a blanket as feminine looking as this one. It also smelled like her room; of wild flowers, faint perfume and of her own scent. If Wade would accept it, he‘d certainly earn a small place in her heart – but if he‘d decline then Jo would understand that and place it back in her bag. She simply had to offer it up, seeing how she was taking away his source of warmth for the night.<br/><br/>It was either his smiling, or the fact that he generously offered her to ask more questions, that caused her heart to beat a little faster and cleared her embarrassment away. The man was rewarded with a beaming smile, before Jo got herself more comfortable; drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. Her chin resting on her kneecaps while she looked at Wade. He wasn't a bad guy, even if he was meddling with her business, she was certain of that now. After all he'd done and gone through today, he still found the patience do deal with her and her curiosity- something her brothers and father would probably not have done under the same circumstances. Then again, they had known her for much longer and her countless questions throughout the years had certainly chipped away at their patience.<br/><br/>"I was actually wondering how you know Lemmy. Was it from the war? I don‘t know a whole lot about him, but I know he‘s a good man."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The suffering of others drew a double-sided blade for those who lived on the Range. On the one hand, the landscape conspired to harass and kill those inexperienced with its untamed rituals and denizens: the cold, the heat, rattlesnake fangs and the roar of the mountain lion. Anyone who ventured into its domain was either prepared or a blatant fool. Survival was of the fittest, and personal resolve alone pushed back the veil of death when it enshrouded men in the deep, dark heart of Nature. But, there was a side to the infinite struggle that stuck cords less primal, less brutal. It was the goodness of men and the Word of God. The expanse of nature, inhabited by heathen Indians, abhorred the infinite mercy and message of true love offered by biblical prodding. The mercy of men could be surprising, and to receive compassion was a rare thing, but when it occurred the faith that clung to the concept of humanity grew in credence and value. Jo's meal of beef jerky was a full quarter of when he packed since Texas; she would never know just how great was Wade's generosity. He would be silent and thankful for her company -- that was the Way of the Range.<br/><br/>Donning his long coat, Wade found himself taking a strong liking to the Bryson daughter. The bed roll he offered was a gesture he wouldn't miss. Sure, his comfort was a sacrifice, but he could not stand the idea of Jo being subjected to more than necessary. She ventured out into the prairie looking for trouble, and she found him.<i>What does that say about me? </i>Wade chuckled to himself. Wade pushed his arms further into his coat often, trying to find an imaginary depth where the incessant, creeping chill would be a stranger and disappear from his skin. The fire offered little, though adequate relief from the coming cold, and Wade leaned forward to feed more kindling into the meager flames. That was when Jo offered him her blanket. Wade simply stared in stillness at both the article and the gesture. His eyes swept to Jo, and he thought he looked abashed for some reason. Did she pity him? The most likely reason was her acknowledgement that the bedroll would ensure a manageable night for one of them, and the blanket was a gesture of thanks. That was how Wade took the offering, though he did not know what to say at first.<br/><br/>Wade removed his hat before taking the pink, fabricated blanket. Jo's eyes betrayed a hint of embarrassment. Perhaps it was Wade's uncultured sensibilities, but the blanket looked like a piece of heaven to the rugged tracker. "I'll surely take it for the night, Ms. Jo," Wade said, gratefully. "Except, I ain't never used a blanket quiet this nice before ... not since home. My momma had blankets like this, and they kept me warm during those cold Illinois nights." Wade laid the pink blanket across his chest and wrapped the lapels of his long coat over himself to trap the blanket as a thermal layer. Yeah, he thought, this'll do nicely. "Thank you," Wade said. His tone was soft and earnest. Kindness was a scarce resource in his world, and Wade recognized empathy when it shined its light ... especially when reflected in dark, adoring eyes.<br/><br/>The question about Lemmy came unexpected, but he simply gave Jo a shifty, boyish smile. "I've known old Lemmy for a long time," Wade began. "We actually met after the war out in Oklahoma Territory. Like I said, my Pa taught me tracking, and that got me jobs catching bounties. It's one thing to track 'em, something entirely different to bring 'em in. That's the dangerous part, right? I was only seventeen at the time, and I saw a bounty for a man named Pedro Vasquez, known in Texas as Slab the Killer. Pa usually backed me up on jobs, but this one was extra-judicial, which meant I'd be crossing state lines in pursuit. That was when my Pa started getting sick. Real sick." Wade looked into the fire, huddled in silence for a minute before continuing.<br/><br/>"I needed money for doctors and medicine. It was hard to come by, even harder to afford. Everyone else passed on going after Pedro, which meant that I wouldn't have any competitors. I picked up Pedro's trail outside Kansas City and followed him westward. He jumped trains, wagons, and ferries -- tracked him from Topeka, to Concordia, to a town called Stockton. Lemmy was the sheriff there. He asked me to surrender my firearms when I entered town. I didn't want any trouble, but I told him about Slab. He didn't believe me, thought I was foolin' him -- spinning a yarn to get out of giving up my revolvers. 'course I gave them up."<br/><br/>Wade winked at Jo. "I gave up the guns he could see," he said with a wry smirk. "Slab must of felt cornered. He played his hand and came after the deputy sheriff, a guy named Joe Colby. Slab bled Joe's heart out with three bullets, and we buried him that next day in the bone orchard outside town. Slab invaded a homesteader, and the man's son rode to town for Lemmy. He asked me to come along, so we ..."<br/><br/>The story fell short, and Wade fell quiet. He thought of his knife, the cut to the bandit's throat, and the pools of crimson that once gave life to a desperate man. "Slab isn't around no more," Wade said quietly. "After that, we kept tabs on one another. Wherever my jobs went, I made sure to stop in and visit. He watched my back when a bounty lingered in his square lot, and he told me about men that needed to be brought in. He was once the Federal Marshal for Vicksburg, but the judge got voted out and the crook who took his bench appointed one of his cronies in Lemmy's place. Until then, Lemmy would send bounty notices my way when things got slow. We just helped each other out."<br/><br/>Wade twisted his form, arms folded across his chest for warmth and looked at the woman. She looked tired and sore, but Wade thought her divine. "Lemmy isn't a good man, he's a great man. He lives to protect people. That says something about a person."<br/><br/>The Colt revolver at Wade's side slipped out of its holster, the firelight glinting off it's mildly oiled frame and barrel. Retracting the loading pin, Wade checked the ammunition cylinders. He wanted to clean the weapon, but hadn't the time or the energy in that wild night. With his luck, Wade feared a horde of bandits cresting over the ridge at the moment of disassembly. Wade kept the weapon out, slipping on a glove to hold the weapon all night long. Wade once made the mistake of sleeping armed without a glove and found his hand stiff when a rattlesnake visited his camp a few years ago.<br/><br/>"Tomorrow will be a big day tomorrow. You tired at all?" Wade asked. A pang of regret and remorse assaulted Wade's gut. The rays of morning light would signal another day -- the last day he would see the beautiful woman under his fierce protection. Wade pushed the thought from his mind as he gazed into the fire, occasionally shifting his vision to the most beautiful woman would ever meet.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Her cheeks remained pink and her eyes lowered to the ground, while a slightly pleased and shy smile curved her lips when Wade accepted the blanket and placed it on his persona. Just like Jo had thought, seeing such a rugged and handsome man having such a delicate and feminine colored piece of blanket was both comical and also strangely endearing. He even said it was nice, which only managed to tickle at her pride over having made it in the first place. No matter if it looked a bit like a dog had chewed on it for a few days. Wade didn't behave or react much like other cowboys, or men in general. He didn't seem annoyed at her, didn't act like he was above her just because of the fact that he was a male and she was supposed to be 'less' than him. It made her feel sort of... glad that he had found her. Even if he was taking her back home to her enraged parents.<br/><br/>As Wade started sharing with her how he had come to know Lemmy, she forgot about everything else around them and could only focus on the words that came from his mouth. Jo found herself immersed in the story-telling, her imaginative mind trying to picture all of what Wade was saying. He hadn't been that much younger than she was right now, when he'd been involved in such a business. Chasing after a killer, having to deal with the fact that his father was growing sick. Sympathy, awe and curiosity all took hold of her; causing the female to lean slightly forward with her mouth partially open. Her eyes were large and round in her pretty face, and her ears all but perked up. Her own life sounded so extremely dull compared to what she was hearing now. Her eyes took in his various expressions, she listened to how his voice rose and fell as he spoke – and she did not miss out on how he seemed to hesitate with describing what had happened with that Slab fella. Jo could only imagine what had become of him, and was thankful for not getting any vivid descriptions of his last moments in this life.<br/><br/>Once Wade was done, there was a moment of silence as Jo tried processing all that he had said. Even if she didn't take him for a liar, she still found his story almost too much to believe. It was a lot of work cramming all that information into her head. He'd experienced so many things in his short life... Actually, she wondered just how old Wade was. Because he looked to be in his late twenties maybe, but spoke like he had lived for far longer than that. His eyes told her far more than his words had, even if Jo found it a little difficult and embarrassing staring at him for too long. Wade was a man whom had been living his life to the fullest, been facing dangers and people that Jo could never be able to imagine from her own sheltered life. And like so many other times, she felt how jealousy started clawing at her heart. She would never be able to be this free. Even if she wouldn't exactly want to start hunting down people, she'd still want to be able to have her own stories to tell. She didn't want to be sold off to a rich man like some broodmare - and then be kept around like a pretty but lifeless decoration.<br/><br/>No, Jo wanted to ride freely over large fields next to the man<b>she </b>would choose to spend her life with, if she'd even decide to do so in the first place. There were many formidable women that had never settled down and had kids or husbands. Who said she couldn't be one as well.<br/><br/>"Thank you for sharing that with me."<br/><br/>Her words were genuine, even if she looked deep in thought. Her eyes calmly followed his movements as he handled his gun. By now, she didn't even feel uncomfortable or nervous sitting alone here with an armed man. Somehow she felt like she could really trust Wade. It was such a strong feeling, she couldn't help but go with it. A smile was sent his way when he asked her if she was tired, and soon the smile was followed by a yawn. She was actually really tired, but had refrained from sharing that with him.<br/><br/>"I am a bit tired, but it feels like a bit of a shame to go to sleep."<br/><br/>She wouldn't say just why it felt like a shame. She didn't want to stop talking to him. She wanted to learn more about his life, ask him more questions about himself – get to know him better. But she also knew, much to her regret, that after this night they wouldn't be getting to know each other better. Because of who they were. Jo felt strangely torn over these thoughts of hers. She had never experienced feeling attracted to anyone before, and it was both scary and exciting. But she knew what would happen once her father would look at Wade. He would see a rugged and dirty bounty hunter, someone dangerous that shouldn't be near his daughter, and Wade would be dismissed. So it might be better to not spend the entire night talking and kindling under some feelings she could never act out on.<br/><br/>"Maybe I should sleep though. It is getting late and I've never ridden this far out before. I'm going to be sore tomorrow probably..."<br/><br/>Her eyes hesitantly went over to Wade, the female a little self conscious over having to sleep in front of him. She wondered if she should ask him to turn his back on her but it felt ridiculous asking for something like that. So, she only silently fixed out the bedroll for herself, made herself comfortable by curling up on her side – while facing Wade and the fire – before she closed her eyes slowly. The morning after she could maybe chat more with him, but she needed to be careful not to open her heart and mind too much for this stranger that would no doubt soon be riding out of her life forever. It wasn't long before Jo's body relaxed and she was sound asleep, feeling both comfortable and protected because she knew that Wade was going to be watching out for her.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Swaths of orange light danced across Jo’s slumbering form, and Wade watched – eyes mesmerized by – the flickering flames that jerked about in subtle excitement. The fire greedily consumed the paltry branches Wade had found and offered for the tiny inferno to feed upon, and – in return – a mild heat radiated that kept the encroaching chill at bay. The height of the rock faces encircling them were only waist high, but successfully created a shielded fortification that obscured the firelight from distant eyes. They were safe, for the moment, in their hollowed perch.<br/><br/>Wade considered whether Jo would take the opportunity to flee while he slept. It was unusual for Wade to let a sleeping quarry rest without some form of restraint tied either to himself or to a nearly tree. Wade carried plenty of rope, and the bounty hunter knew how to use it to great effect. But, in his heart, Wade knew for certain that such measures were unnecessary. Jo had given him her word of cooperation, and his intuition felt that such assurance created a bond more powerful than all the rope he carried. Wade trusted Jo, which was no small feat. He felt a discontent creep about his conscious mind at what the morning sun would signal, what time would come to an end. But, that was the way of fate – to succumb to the circumstances life gave you – for surely God led his faithful to fields of green, rather than expanses of charred mud and ruin. Wade thought of the man with three horses – his current mission to capture the crook and retrieve the pure gold. The man wearing the white cavalry jacket still roamed the Wyoming plains, and there was yet time to unearth his dire mystery. But, that time was running out. The man whom Wade pursued was more than a thief, he was a cold-blooded killer; three of his own men littered his wake, and it was only a matter of time before innocent people would become casualties in his scheme and greed.<br/><br/>A noise broke Wade from his reverie and drew his weapon toward the shadows. A laughing smile broke across Wade’s face when he realized the source of the disturbance. He leaned forward, whispering loudly. “Dusty … stop snoring, you old man!” Wade’s belly clenched and shook in mirth, and he tossed a small rock at the horse’s head. He missed, by a margin, but Dusty – laying prone on his side, as was his wont – awoke and lifted his great head. He nickered softly, as if wondering what all the commotion was about. Lady lowered her face to Dusty and the two horses nuzzled sweetly – Lady seemed to have gained a tolerant affection for the quarterhorse, and the display touched the bounty hunter as something precious and eternal. Dusty didn’t seem to understand what had just happened, as he laid back down and soon returned to a silent slumber.<br/><br/>Quiet settled once again over their camp – the harsh whistle of wind rushing over the distant, northern plains the only sound. Wade drew his arms around himself, and the feminine scent of Jo’s blanket wafted up into Wade’s nostrils. It was sweet, faintly perfumed, and imbued with smells of home – smoke from a hearth, the scent of a fine woman, something sweet and lady-like. For a brief moment, these affects took over Wade before being whisked away by the pilfering gale. Wade hugged himself for greater warmth, looking up into the dark blue sky vaulted above and spangled with a thousand points of light. A thin cloud manifested when he exhaled, and Wade gave Jo voiceless thanks for the blanket. Cold it was, though Wade extolled further gratitude that the skies were clear and not drenching them with sheets of frozen rain. Though uncomfortable, the cold night they endured mitigated the chance of random travelers or bandits. Anyone with a lick of sense would be in a shelter or structure, waiting out the worst of the biting winds. Wade told himself as much as he settled back against an expanse of vertical rock, feeling his eyes getting heavy. A last, sad puff of breath departed Wade before he tipped his hat down over his eyes for the evening. The morning would bring physical relief, but would impart a coachload of angst onto the bounty hunter. He had his quarry, and for the first time, Wade found himself reluctant to return her home.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">…………………………………………………............​</div><br/>A brittle frost had settled onto the landscape and those who used it to bed down. Wade awoke with a start, lifting his weapon up and cocking back the hammer. Wade’s eyes darted about, and he listened intently – the bleak cries of airborne carrion the only sound to penetrate their temporary abode. The cold made Wade’s coat stiff, the fabric tectonic, frozen in rigid plates as he stood. Pain flooded Wade’s head as the price of the uncomfortable night began to catch up with him. His back felt unyielding, and Wade stretched slowly to reinvigorate his body back from the throes of discomfort. Wade set his gaze across the vast, Wyoming horizon, amazed at the bright, yellow-peach hues of the prairie ignited by the early light of dawn.<br/><br/>Lady made a quiet noise, and Wade tended to her. She jerked her head, shaking her mane; Wade pet her long, regal neck. “Easy … yer a good girl, aren’t you?” Lady seemed to respond to the sound of a human voice, which meant that Jo had probably spent an inordinate amount of time training and tending to her. Wade cast a glance at the neat piles of tacking for each horse upon a flat slab. Most people didn’t know how to properly tack a horse, in Wade’s estimation, but Jo handled herself with expertise. Wade respected that, a great deal. Most women Wade knew prided themselves on not knowing how to do tasks that high-culture might belittle or deem beneath them. Horse handling was one of the core skills that made the world work, and not becoming familiar with the basic tenets was pure foolishness. Jo kept surprising Wade in the most unexpected ways. Wade watched Jo still sleeping from the corner of his eye as he re-tacked the horses for their journey.<br/><br/>The sun finally made its way above the sheltering ridges that had cast pale shadows upon their morning. Wade figured that Jo would be exhausted from the previous day, and had wanted her to rest as much as possible. The thought of not returning her crossed his mind one final time, in futile desire. What would he do with a woman like Jo? How could she want someone like him? A roving nomad, a seeker of danger, a killer for hire: this was his life; this was who he had become. The limey clay granules crunched under Wade’s boot as he squatted in front of Jo’s angelic, sleeping face. Stray hairs lept from her braids, as if trying to escape. Wade could feel his heart beating inside his chest, and he wanted – more than anything – to stroke those raven-dark locks, to bring his fingers upon her scalp and feel firsthand whether her hair felt as silky as it looked. Wade, of course, held back; the non-consensual handling of an innocent woman was more than improper, he would have tarnished the trust that Lemmy had placed in him by passively molesting the fine woman.<br/><br/>Quick exhale. Wade had been dreading this moment, for once Jo was roused, it would begin the predicated chain of events that concluded with Jo returing to a surly father, never to be seen again. Prolonging the inevitable as long as his conscious would permit, Wade brought his hand to Jo’s shoulder. She seemed snug under the warm, weather-proof bedroll, and Wade was glad she had been shielded from the climatic predations of nature. He gently shook her shoulder until her blue eyes lifted up to meet his.<br/><br/>“Time to rise, Jo,” Wade said with a faint smile, “we need to get on the road soon.” Still squatting, Wade angled back away from the woman, his eye turned to her feet. “How’s yer feet holding up?”<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>At some point during the night, Jo had woken with a start. Confused in her still sleep-heavy state, she'd stayed still for a few moments while staring wide eyed ahead of herself towards where the fire was slowly burning out. A sense of fear had started clutching at her heart, before she could shake enough of the sleep off to remember where she was, with whom and why.<br/><br/>Burrowing even further down into the warmth of the bedroll, she let her eyes travel over the surroundings; until she spotted the cowboy. He seemed to be asleep, sitting upright with his hat tipped slightly down into his face. The position he was in didn't seem all that comfortable and Jo was sure he did not feel mighty warm, seeing how her own breath was leaving small puffs of mist each time she'd exhale. Guilt over her actions threatened to rob her further off her sleep, but with a determined set of her brows, she closed her eyes again. Yes, she had sort of run away from home to chase after murderous thieves - only to find herself captured by a stranger whom was good friends with Lemmy. And now he was probably suffering because of having to take it onto himself to be a gentleman enough to give her comfort. But it wasn't fair to herself to feel bad over this. Because she was only trying to bring justice to a bunch of people that lacked any compassion with others and probably had no faith in God either.<br/><br/>The female peeked out again through her heavy lashes in the direction of Wade, taking in his slouched form, before an almost invisible smile touched her lips. His kind gestures and words had made her feel rather glad for his company. Despite not wanting to admit to being cowardly, she would probably not have been able to sleep soundly would she be alone out here. Even with the company of Lady, she would have felt vulnerable and lonely - and each soft sound out in the night would have made her jump while wondering if something or someone were coming for her life. But thinking of the morning to come, a sense of dread darkened her mood just as quickly. She would not only have to face the wrath of her family soon but also say goodbye to this very interesting fella that had so surprisingly barged into her life.<br/><div style="text-align: left"><br/>
There was probably no question about the fact that he would be leaving town as soon as his objectives were met. And it was a shame they wouldn't be able to get to know each other better. A real shame.​</div><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Jo had clearly managed to fall asleep again, because when she opened her eyes to the sound of Wade's voice and his gentle shaking - she found herself staring straight up into his face in the gentle morning light. How bizarre it was to wake to the face of a man. Never in her life had the girl imagined she would live that moment, seeing her refusals of getting married.<br/><br/>"Oh, morning."<br/><br/>She sat up quickly and stretched, her very disheveled braid hanging over her shoulder as the female started looking around before sending a smile towards Lady. Obviously from the looks of it, Wade had woken a bit before Jo and had already prepared the horses for the journey to come. A shy glance was cast in the direction of the cowboy, while Jo wondered how long exactly he'd been up for. Had he watched her sleep? Maybe she had even snored... The female didn't really recognize, nor particularly like, this timid and 'girly' side of herself that Wade's presence seemed to be enhancing. She was used to being far more outspoken and forward and had never in her life glanced at anyone from underneath her lashes with a faint blush in her cheeks. Maybe the sun had gotten to her the day before and she was experiencing some weird side effects right now. That was really the only explanation she could settle for, seeing how Josephine had no intentions of becoming one of those love-struck females. Remembering that he had asked her a question, the female was quick to crawl from the bedroll, before she sat on her behind on the ground and examined her feet.<br/><br/>"They don't look worse for the wear, also feel a bit better. I'm sure I'll be just fine."<br/><br/>Her toes were wriggled a bit around, before Jo looked with clear disdain towards her boots, knowing fully well she'd be forced to put them on very soon. Honestly she just wanted to throw those damn things on the fire... but that wasn't exactly an option. Deciding to prolong the torture a bit, she reached for some water and took a few sips before offering the canteen to Wade.<br/><br/>"Did you sleep alright? Wasn't it cold?"<br/><br/>While waiting on his answer, she crawled over to where her things were and started rummaging through her possessions in search for some breakfast. She hadn't come out here entirely unprepared, even if she would probably not have fared as well had Wade not found her. Retrieving some of the biscuits her mama had baked the day before Jo had left, she also grabbed some dried fruits, and then sat down again to face Wade. She didn't know if he had much provisions himself, and she wanted to somehow be able to show her thanks to him by offering him some of her own food; so she nudged it towards him while taking a biscuit and biting into it. Her mother was an exceptionally good baker, the biscuit practically melting on Jo's tongue. Curiously, she would watch Wade and see if he would eat some of her breakfast - before Jo nibbled on enough of biscuits, apples and apricots to feel relatively full. She didn't feel all that hungry to be honest, due to the circumstances of everything, but knew better than to starve herself out in a rough land like this. Maybe her lack of appetite had also something to do with the fact that she was about to be returned back home like some common thief...<br/><br/>"'Scuse me for a moment."<br/><br/>The words were murmured with a rather uncomfortable expression following, as she tip toed away on bare feet. She knew fully well that it could prove very dangerous walking around without wearing boots, but she really needed to relieve her bladder before she'd take on the task of pulling those damn boots on again. She only hoped dearly that Wade wouldn't take it upon himself to follow her, because she had no idea how to dismiss him without having to say out loud what her business was. Because<b>no</b>lady ever talked about<b>those</b>things. After returning from behind a large rock, cheeks scarlet and lips pursed, she sat down again and grabbed at one of the boots. After wrestling with both of them, she finally got up and huffed out before reaching for her hat. Her long and thick hair would simply have to keep looking like a wild cat had played with it, because Jo was not about to waste time in re-braiding it. She would help Wade with picking up their things and fastening the saddle-bags to the saddles - before she'd slip her foot in the stirrup and swing herself onto her mare. Sure, a few muscles were hurting here and there, but she was not one to complain. It also felt good being back in the saddle, and she patted Lady's neck with a few murmured words. Her mare nickered and reached her head back to nibble on Jo's boot-clad toes, much to the female's delight, before the two of them settled and waited on Wade and Dusty to take the lead.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>"I'm used to the cold,” Wade answered.<br/><br/>A faint smirk hid the untruth they both knew he uttered, and the worn look in Wade’s eyes betrayed the headache that resulted from prolonged heat loss during the long, night hours. Wade’s eyes tracked Jo’s ascent from the sleeping roll, watching her affably. He stood slowly, Wade’s flattened lips followed the slightly flustered female as she went about her business. Wade had made certain that the only business Jo needed to attend was her own. By no means did the bounty hunter find Jo incapable – quite the opposite, in fact. Wade did not, however, wish to delay any longer. The sun had risen, and the cast shadows from the early dawn had turned from dark to deep blue. A tranquil quality pervaded Wade, and an unusually patient demeanor defined his movements. Was it melancholy? Wade certainly was not pleased to be handing Jo over to her family. Proud men send men after their daughters with a vow of secrecy – such men were seldom kind to those daughters upon return. The adage that Jo made her bed and now needed to sleep in it gave the bounty hunter little comfort. She struck out on Lady to right a wrong, and – though naïve – found pertinent information through Wade. He resolved to give Jo that credit when they met her father, hoping it might lighten Bryon’s belt lashing just a touch.<br/><br/>The smell of food<i>not</i>designed for the trail caught in Wade’s nostrils. He tried to ignore the scent of homemade cooking and dried fruits, but the vitals haunted his hungry stomach – all too familiar with the miserable sustenance provided by military-issue hardtack. Fresh biscuits never kept for long on the range, which was why they were seldom encountered. Wade found that their scarcity only added to their appeal. He stared hungrily at the biscuit Jo offered him, reaching out and accepting the morsel with a reluctant nod. Wade’s teeth sunk into the biscuit with the indulgence of a delicacy, the butter melting in his mouth.<i>A kitchen</i>– how long had it been since Wade had wandered into one? His heart longed for a woman making food that wasn’t the menu of bandits and outlaws. Wade took a second bite and it was as delicious as the first; the taste made him miss the home he left years ago.<br/><br/>Wade ate solitary and alone, suddenly aware of his unshaven state; he glanced around for Jo, who had excused herself to take care of her business; Wade decided to leave her be. A wordless trust must have developed between them, and Wade paid no mind to Jo’s absence. Wade knew that Jo would accompany him freely to her family’s ranch, returning to face whatever stiff punishment her father decreed to dole out. Jo still had the chance to escape and avoid the immanent infliction of punishment – Wade would even consider letting her go. But, Wade knew Jo would confront the music written specifically for her to face. That took guts. Wade saw Jo – face flushed from embarrassment – and he dragged his sleeve across his mouth to clear the crumbs that imparted more life than a half ton of jerky.<i>Damn, that was a good biscuit</i>. Wade had taken two, and place the other untouched biscuit in his vitals sack.<br/><br/>The cringes and quiet grunts from Jo told of her struggle with those boots. Wade began to gather his belongings, fighting a sudden urge to help Jo. The uncomfortable boots would flag Jo until they reached her home, and Wade could offer nothing of practical use. The urge to assist Jo came sudden and strong – Wade swallowed the budding fidelity, casting it into a hard, dark part of his canyon-like soul. It would serve nothing, and be for nothing come late afternoon when they reached the Bryson Ranch. Wade found his eyes wandering toward Jo more often as they morning progressed, and his heart thawed for the beautiful and spirited woman. A yearning, devoid of lust, bloomed in the hardened man – one that could not be sated by the likes of Susan Dalton. Wade had emptied his male need into the whore without a second thought, but reflecting on the act tarnished his character – a stain of shame against the poignancy Wade felt as Jo mounted Lady.<br/><br/>Wade knew that the time had finally come to leave the campsite and journey back. He waited until Jo and Lady sauntered to the open part of the ridge, along the spine where they had made camp. Turning his back to Jo, Wade revealed himself to put out the last vestige of the fire, dousing it with his morning urine. It was an ingrained habit, wrought by the hordes of men to thought they could survive by hunting<i>him</i>; ash and charcoal mingled with his traces to expertly obscure his passage. Dust puffed up, only to settle down against his yellow torrent – all the while, Wade labored to mask the fondness he felt for Jo.<br/><br/>Wade soon hoisted himself up onto Dusty. Streaks of morning light had grown to wide, blanketing rays of warmth that illuminated the landscape in broad swaths of ochre. The shadow of the peaked rounded hills grew shorter, and Wade was about to start off, but he stopped. Wade reached into his jacket, his heels booting Dusty to shift laterally alongside Lady. The knit blanket Jo had given him stretched from the v-shaped opening below his neck. Wade’s chest chilled the instant Jo’s blanket left him, and he endured the pain he knew he shouldn’t be feeling as he handed it to his prisoner.<br/><br/>“Here,” Wade said. “Kept me right warm all night. I’m indebted to ya.”<br/><br/>Jo took the blanket from Wade's grasp, and very real sense of regret filled the man as the gesture of kindness left his possession. Wade found that he had become attached to the blanket, and he asked himself the queer question of whether or not he would ever see it again.<i>Not after today</i>, he told himself. Turning his head to face the distant horizon, Wade made a faint clicking noise and Dusty began the long trek back to the Bryon Ranch. They descended out of the canyon's mesa region for the first half hour, greeted once again by the less arid, lush depression where cattle could be seen grazing on long grass. Wade scanned the rim of the canyon limits, looking for anything out of the ordinary: a shape, a sign of movement, the bright flash of sunlight off of a glass rifle scope. But, nothing molested the pair as they made their way out of the canyon where Jo had entered the day before.<br/><br/>Hours passed, and their lumbering pace nearly lulled Wade back to sleep. He hadn't rested fully with the cold and awkward posture while sitting upright. The day wore on, becoming warmer and warmer, which did little to thwart the fog of fatigue that vexed Wade's willpower to stay awake. Wearing his long-coat didn't help, but Wade kept it on to shield him from the harsh burn of the sun's rays. Noon was nearly upon them, and Wade was about to suggest they find shade and rest when he spotted something odd in the distance. Curiosity won out, and Wade stopped. The brass cylinders of his telescopic sighting scope clicked to full length and he looked at the sight that awaited them. What he saw left his blood run cold -- man in a white jacket with three horses. Only problem was the half dozen bandits that hung around his quarry like flies to feces.<br/><br/>"Hold up!" he said to Jo.<br/><br/>Peering for another minute, Wade took Dusty's reins and slowly trotted forward, motioning for Jo to ride along side him. "You wanted action, it's waiting up ahead of us. Too late to ride around them ... they've spotted us. If we run, they'll chase us down or catch us with their long rifles." He turned to Jo, eyes fierce. "The man I'm hunting is up there, and I'd kill him without a thought ... but, nothing can happen to you. Lemmy would disown me, your father would hate me, and I'd ..." Wade paused at the clenching heat in his lungs -- bold words hung trapped that he dare not speak. "So, this is what we do ... we pretend to be husband and wife. I'm a firearms salesman, and we're from town on a morning ride." Wade leered at the group, who all took notice of their approach. "Play it even, and let me do the talking."<br/><br/>Wade pulled the lapels of his long-coat closed, knowing that his guns had to be in reach at a moments notice. He fully expected some smarmy ass-hat wearing jackard to greet them, but was surprised when the man in the white leather jacket rode to meet them away from the group. His eyes were light-blue, detached, alluring, and psychotic; Wade kept his composure as the red-bearded man spoke.<br/><br/>"Morning, y'all," Clyde said, chipper.<br/><br/>"Right Morning to ya," Wade replied, less so.<br/><br/>"Y'all out for little ride?" Clyde asked. "Pretty far from town." Those light-blue eyes narrowed.<br/><br/>"Wife and I like to head out into the country some mornings, before sunrise." Not a hint of fear sullied Wade's tone. "Olmstead feels crowded most days."<br/><br/>"Reckon so," Clyde said. A faint smile curled his lips like a half-drawn sword. He cast a glance at Jo, eyeing her in the way predators do. "Wife, huh?" Clyde said, almost to himself. He turned his killers gaze back to Wade. "Don't suppose you have anything to eat, would ya?"<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The chances of a married couple meeting a thief and three gold-laden horses summoned his innate urge to kill. Clyde's intuition told him that these two townsfolk were like a couple of prairie dogs wandering into an asp of rattlesnakes. Bad luck earned you a hole to the heart and another to the head. Clyde took a dislike to the man in the long-coat, in particular. The woman seemed startled enough, but the man held himself with more composure than normal. The band of outlaws his brother send to escort him form Olmstead were idiots, but wrangled and weather-worn enough to give good, decent citizens pause -- the man looked unfazed. Leaving a corpse behind their trail would give the bounty hunter after him a lead that Clyde could not afford. Still, he needed to know that the man was a local.<br/><br/>"Don't suppose you have anything to eat, would ya?" Clyde asked. If the man was a local, he'd have something better than trail rations or jerky. Clyde watched the man talk to his woman, and he handed him something. A day-old biscuit was soon in Clyde's hands, and he took a bite -- his other hand itching to draw his Scofield and unload all his rounds into the man's chest. The taste that filled his mouth eased his killing instinct, and Clyde looked down at the biscuit. The bite that he took stared back at him, and the flavor that filled his mouth was nothing less than homemade from scratch.<br/><br/><i>Damn it</i>, Clyde cursed. Probably best to let these two pass by, he thought; his group -- and more importantly, the gold -- would soon be in his brother's company and under his formidable protection. He drew a deep breath and enjoyed the chewing of real food. The woman was pretty, if not a touch young for such a rugged-looking man. "You make these yerself?" Clyde asked woman. She nodded meekly. A spark of a mirth lifted one side of the man's sly face in a half laugh. "My compliments to the chef."<br/><br/>Clyde looked the man dead in the eye. "Y'all better get on home. These are dangerous parts. Ya never know what you might run into."<br/><br/>The man in the long-coat dipped his hat, silent. They both mosied on to the northeast, Clyde catching sight of the brand new boots the woman wore. Clyde twisted in his saddle. "Y'all have a good day now, YA HEAR!"<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>It was obvious that the night had taken its toll on the cowboy, even if he didn't want to admit to it. But despite the guilt that coursed through her, Jo said nothing more about the matter. He had offered to be a gentleman and she was grateful for that. And it warmed her heart and made her feel glad when he accepted the biscuits and truly seemed to enjoy them for this short moment she viewed his face before leaving him to his meal. He might not have said anything about the food or even smiled all that much, but there had been a light in his eyes and the food had momentarily softened those rugged features of his. So, this was her way of saying thanks, without making too much out of the situation.<br/><br/>Once the horses were on the move, the female filled her lungs with fresh air and looked slightly gloomy as she turned in her saddle and viewed the canyon they would soon be leaving behind. The scenery that had looked borderline depressing yesterday, now looked vibrant and tempting. Jo knew that once she'd be back home, it'd be a loooong time before she would be getting out of the house again. And this journey of hers, however brief it had been, had given her a taste of what real freedom and excitement could be. How was she supposed to feel content with becoming a wallflower back home after this kind of an adventure? Heaving a sigh, the female then turned back to face Wade as he rode up to her side. The blanket was returned, and Jo reached out to take it with a nod and a small smile. It had been the least she could do for him - despite this man being the very reason for her early return back home.<br/><br/>She didn't blame him or feel angry with him, but maybe just felt a little peeved at her own helplessness. Even if he hadn't found her, she wasn't all that sure how long she would have lasted out here alone. She was completely untried and naive, and that was painfully obvious when around someone like Wade whom had seen the world and could obviously take care of himself in every situation. He would probably never venture on a quest in brand new boots and with no sleeping roll. He'd probably also never be tracked down this easily and be caught in the same manner as he had caught her; roped in like a misbehaving calf. A heavy sigh escaped the female and her shoulders sagged a bit. She could only really feel thankful that he had given her the chance to gain some more information, so that she would at least bring home something that could pacify her family.<br/><br/>No words were spoken between the pair as they rode at a leisurely pace back home. Jo wanted to chat, but for the first time in her life, she was unable to think of anything to talk about. It seemed like the same sense of dread had started weighing their morals down, both of them only staring down at the path in front of the horses. Well, she at least kept her eyes mostly on the ground - while Wade was constantly looking around to see if there was any danger present. Lady kept walking slowly as Dusty was halted and Wade started scanning the area ahead of them. Once he told Jo to wait, she pulled lightly at the reins and turned to him with a curious look. At his words, her face paled and her eyes turned huge while she glanced towards the group of people he was speaking of. Oh boy. The young female swallowed convulsively, but nodded meekly at his words, and for a moment her gaze got a little searching when he cut his own speech short before saying just what<b>he'd </b>think if she got killed. Not that Jo thought it would matter much if he cared or not, they would soon be parting ways anyway...<br/><br/>Her large eyes were pinned on the lone figure that parted from the group ahead, and her hands squeezed down on the reins. She had never been a good liar, and she'd always been a terrible actress, so this was beyond scary. But she had to place her trust in Wade, he hadn't let her down so far. Her gaze was glued to the stranger's horse as he greeted them, a small nod being her answer, but other than that she remained still. Hesitantly she then looked up, unable to fight back the curiosity for any longer, and instantly felt her heart sink down to her boots when she stared into the man's pale eyes. There was something very unsettling about him, something that made her really miss her home and the safety she was used to. Fighting back the urge to chew nervously on her lower lip, she watched and listened as the two men exchanged words. The air was impregnated with tension, causing even her mare to start sidestepping while angrily flicking her long tail. When Wade handed the biscuit to the stranger, Jo was prepared for the worst. She didn't know why - but she felt absolutely certain that bullets would start flying any moment now. However, the man simply chewed on the biscuit, before he looked mildly confused - and then addressed her. While thanking God, and the baking skills of her mother, she nodded at his question and managed a trembling smile at his compliment.<br/><br/>The seconds that followed felt like hours, and sweat started to slowly trickle down her back and temples. The female's hands and legs were cramping up from her stiff posture, but she didn't dare breathe a word of complaint. Honest to God, she felt close to tears when finally they could keep on going, her questing eyes quickly scanning the other men before her back was to them. Their gazes felt heavy, made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end while small and cold shivers ran down her spine. She kept sending silent prayers to the Almighty Father, only jumping slightly when the stranger yelled out to them to have a good day. With nostrils flaring and her face a very unhealthy greenish shade, she sat stiffly in the saddle and waited to hear someone shout for them to stop. Heck, she waited to hear a gun being fired - waited to feel a bullet tearing into her flesh.<br/><br/>Never in her short life had she ever experienced fear as raw as this one, fear that was making her eyes fill with tears while she battled with the need to violently empty her stomach. Only when they had left the men far behind, did she dare let her body relax a fraction; which resulted in her swaying slightly in the saddle. She'd never in her life fainted, but was dangerously close to doing so right now. But thanks to her strong will, she remained seated on Lady.<br/><br/>"I don't know how you did it. Remain so calm and collected. I thought I'd have a heart attack."<br/><br/>She tried to joke, but the pale tone of her skin and her shaky voice gave away just how scared she truly had been. Looking slightly embarrassed, she wiped at her eyes, before taking a few deep breaths. Now that the danger was gone, she was slowly starting to feel a little more like herself.<br/><br/>"Thank you. For... not shooting at them. I mean, I know I was in your way and this was someone you wanted to catch. But... Thank you. I hope you'll manage to hand him to the law before long."<br/><br/>A small smile was cast in Wade's direction, and onward they rode. Neither felt like stopping anywhere on the way. The looming threat of the men they had already left far behind still kept them on the alert and feeling strangely exposed and vulnerable. So the hours passed slowly, while Jo's butt felt like it'd be bruised for years to come, until finally she recognized where she was. They had entered her father's land, and for the second time that day she felt dangerously close to tears. It was silly, she knew that, but she had been feeling a little homesick. Urging Lady on, they went to a slow canter so that they might reach the house sooner. Suddenly, Jo couldn't think about anything else than flinging herself in her parents arms.<br/><br/>Once the large house came to view, the female sent Wade a dazzling smile, before she looked again towards the proud structure. Her father had raised this house a year after he'd married her mother. It was a huge establishment, and while it didn't look very luxurious - it was still beautiful and very sturdy. The smile slowly started to fade once Jo noticed the familiar man standing on the large porch, pacing back and forth. Her brother was here. It was at that moment that the relief started fading, and she remembered just how much trouble she was in.<br/><br/>Instinctively, she slowed Lady down just as Armstead stopped and looked up at the approaching pair. He immediately opened the door and went into the house, only to exit again with Jo's parents at his heels. Ooh boy. Jo didn't like feeling cowardly, but she had to really battle with herself so that she wouldn't ask Wade to just escort her back out into the wilderness. She'd much rather deal with the rustlers and rattlesnakes, than what was waiting for her right now. When the horses finally came to a halt, just a few meters from the waiting people, her brother finally moved and went up to her horse. The siblings stared at each other for a moment, before he wordlessly reached up and grabbed her small waist, literally hoisting the female off the mare before placing her rather harshly on the ground. Lowering her gaze and poking at the ground with her boot, Jo peeked around him towards her parents.<br/><br/>"Mama... papa."<br/><br/>A strangled sound of despair came from the older woman, before she was suddenly standing in front of her daughter. The cracking sound of the slap made Lady whinny nervously and step away, while Jo grabbed at her reddened cheek with a soft gasp. But before anyone could say anything, her mother had wrapped her arms around her daughter and squeezed her against her bosom while crying loudly and mumbling incoherent words between the sobbing.<br/><br/>"Oh mama..."<br/><br/>Jo sniffled miserably before hugging the woman back, considering that the slap had been well earned anyway. Hank Bryson stood back and watched the two women, his eyes unreadable and his posture stiff. Armstead looked both relieved and exhausted, before his gaze went to Wade whom had seemingly been forgotten for a few moments. The young Bryson man nodded reluctantly at Wade, having already seen him at Lemmy's place, but he didn't say anything. Not yet. But his action caused his father's steely eyes to move and settle onto the stranger.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fi11.servimg.com%2Fu%2Ff11%2F13%2F17%2F26%2F76%2Fsam_el10.jpg&amp;hash=a21892c112ca4be9d8333d87adb593cd" title="sam_el10.jpg">
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</div></div><br/>Hank had never fully understood why his daughter seemed to have gotten more energy and more of an attitude than all of his sons. She had been a handful when a child, and now when she was nearing her adult years... she was slowly driving at least half of the family mad. He loved his daughter with all his heart, but didn't know really what to make of her behavior. So he remained silent, while watching this stranger that had brought Jo back home. His eyes were cold as they ran over both rider and horse. Took in his clothes, saddle, guns, face. His own features were set in stone, there was no reading his thoughts or feelings. He obviously had little trust for this cowboy that had brought his daughter back home, but because of how grateful he was feeling - he had at least not pulled his gun on the stranger. His daughter, probably sensing what was going on, lifted her tear stained face from her mother's shoulder and looked at Hank.<br/><br/>"Pa-?"<br/><br/>"Inside, Josephine Rose."<br/><br/>"But-"<br/><br/>"Now."<br/><br/>The cold eyes now settled on Jo, whom was soon enough ushered into the house by her mother, while trying to object. That look of anger and disappointment from her father had taken away the remaining strength, but she didn't really want to leave Wade alone out there.  A knowing look passed between husband and wife as the women went into the house, and an exhausted sigh came from their son. But it didn't escape Hank's notice how Jo, just before she was pushed through the door, took a moment to look back at the cowboy. And there was something in her gaze that the older man did not like in the least bit. He remained where he was, but his hands that were itching to grab for a firearm, moved to his hips; his thumbs hooking in the belt that hung low on his form.<br/><br/>"You brought my daughter home, alive and unharmed. Mighty grateful for that."<br/><br/>The older man drawled, albeit looking more murderous than grateful. His gaze kept searching out Wade, as if he was daring that cowboy to admit to having done something indecent to his daughter.<br/><br/>"Where'd you find her?"<br/><br/>Armstead's words rung through the air, the younger Bryson male having decided that he might have to step in before the air between the cowboy and his father would freeze.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade had let his long-coat open as their horses sauntered past the bandits and the man in the white cavalry jacket. Like Jo, Wade also expected a flurry of snapping as a storm of bullets rushed to meet them and pepper their backsides. Whoever this man was had already proven that he was not beneath killing his own men while they faced the other direction -- a ruthless and effective tactic; that of a coward, in Wade's eyes. The best Wade could hope for was to draw his guns at the sounds of small arms fire, pray that they were terrible shots, and twist to return fire. Dusty was part and parcel of the equation, because as Wade was drawing a bead on the men -- the bastard in white, in particular -- his legs would have told Dusty to move between the men engulfed in clouds of gunpowder and Jo & Lady. If the shooting started -- if Wade survived -- he did not expect to live, but wanted to make damn sure that Jo was able to get away ... or at least have a good chance.<br/><br/>Resolved to die in that moment, Wade felt a searing hatred for the man in the white cavalry jacket. The man's name still eluded him, but Wade had a face now. The red-hair and beard were tell-tale signs, as were his cold, light-blue eyes. Wade considered looking back, but thought against it. He did not want to press his luck, which seemed to be holding as they pair rode farther and farther out of range.<br/><br/>Wade rode beside Jo, watching her out the corner of his eye. He noticed her release, how she had been holding in the stress of the moment like a held breath. Wade swallowed and gave thanks to God Almighty that He stayed the slaying hand of his quarry. He heard Jo speak her gratitude, along with her misunderstanding. Wade paused, not bothering to clarify to Jo that her safety was of far greater concern than catching his man for the trifle of mere greenbacks. He remained by Jo's side for the rest of the trip. Wade continued to pass sidelong glances at Jo, watching her: a cycle of despair churning in his gut. Wade had delivered many, desperate men and felt an exhilaration each and every time. The boy-turned-man before his time would celebrate his prowess and insane luck at having defied death against concerted resistance, defying the odds and making himself wealthy in the process. This time, however, felt very different. Eventually, Wade released his own breathy sigh as they passed into rolling country, where the grass grew lusher amidst rolling hills. Wade could tell that they had entered the realm of Jo's home range by the way she almost bounced in the saddle.<br/><br/>When the large, rancher's house grew from a speck on the horizon, Wade caught sight of the winning smile Jo unleashed onto the world. He faltered inside, feeling genuinely desperate for the first time in his violent life. If Wade had any doubts, they were erased by the glow of pure joy that Jo radiated like a gorgeous sun -- Wade loved this wild, young woman, and he dreaded the moment of riding off once he surrendered Jo to the Bryson family. Though, in harsh consolation, Wade could clearly see how happy the prospect of home made Jo feel. Pure excitement filled the woman, and that meant something to the weather-worn bounty hunter. It meant that he was surrendering Jo to a loving family, one that cared for her, even if they did not know what passions stirred within the young woman. Wade felt the lack of stability in his own life, along with a touch of wistful at the memory of his mother's homestead in southern Illinois. He found himself suddenly missing the idea of a home, of warmth, of the love in a woman's eyes.<br/><br/>As they approached the wide, impressive home, Wade witnessed the drama unfold before his eyes with steely detachment. The moment he had been dreading had arrived, and the mother answered the question of which parent would exact corporeal punishment. Wade flinched when the mother's hand lashed out and struck her daughter's cheek -- the tearful embrace afterwards told Wade that the harsh gesture came from the right place. The mother wore her heart on her sleeve, even in front of a total stranger such as himself, although Wade felt invisible at the family's reunion. Being ignored would have been a preferable condition to what happened next; as the mother departed, the father's presence grew in intensity, as did his displeasure with Wade.<br/><br/>Wade paid the disgruntled father no attention, refusing to heed his dire glare. The bounty hunter had located and protected Jo for the last two days, willing to absorb bullets from hateful men to preserve her life. Wade sought Jo as a favor to Lemmy, but found himself motivated by personal reasons as time wore on. There was no promise of reward for what Wade did for the Brysons, and Lemmy alone would benefit from the act Wade performed. Wade would not ask for money for helping Jo, even though the Bryon father was indebted to the bounty hunter for caring for his daughter. Jo, certainly, would have grown tired and decided to return eventually, but whether she could have survived the elements and bandits was a different story. Wade shuttered at the thought of Jo encountering the man in the white jacket alone ...<br/><br/>The only reward that Wade wanted was to feast his eyes on Jo until the very end. Once Jo made it through her front door, Wade knew that she was gone forever. That would be the moment Wade would tie off the bleeding he felt in his heart, and not a moment before. Jo must have been of a similar mind, for Wade caught sight of Jo turning to face him at the last minute before being ushered into the home she loved so much.<br/><br/><i>"You brought my daughter home, alive and unharmed. Mighty grateful for that."</i><br/><br/>Wade lowered his wounded gaze down to the older man, who returned a glare that Wade was all too familiar.<i>How ... FUCKING dare you, old man, </i>Wade seethed in private. Not a father himself, and without sisters, Wade could only guess at what ate at the Bryson man. He spoke of gratitude, but his tone said otherwise. Wade should have ridden away, letting the temper of a worried father pass over him like a dust-filled gale. But, Wade refused. The intimidating tone he received triggered a staunch defiance in Wade, and he slid off Dusty and created a cloud of ochre upon landing. The long-coat Wade wore shrugged off his broad shoulders and rested flat over Dusty's saddle. Guns fully exposed, Wade walked casually to the Bryson patron.<br/><br/>"That I surely did, Sir," Wade said. "But, you sound far from grateful."<br/><br/><i>"Where'd you find her?"</i>he heard Armstead ask, nervous. Wade's hard eyes locked onto the father's, their gazes now the territory of a war for dominance. Wade had stayed alive all these years by developing an instinct for knowing when someone wanted him in a shallow grave. He wasn't sure if the elder Bryson would actually draw his weapon, but Wade didn't want to find out. Killing Jo's father was the last thing Wade wanted to do, knowing the pain that would cause the woman he loved. But, men were men -- Wade would defend himself if drawn upon. Wade kept his eyes on the elder Bryon's as he answered Armstead's question.<br/><br/>"Hangman's canyon, just like you said when you found me at Lemmy's." Wade tilted his head an inch. "He thought two people looking for Jo would improve yer chances." He narrowed his eyes. "Looks like he was right ... Good thing, too." Wade broke the duel of stares to circle about and casually regard Armstead. "Scrubby snake-country ain't no place for a greener. Still, she caught sight of a patch of tracks she convinced me to follow. Took the trail up out of the Canyon to the west, counted five wranglers. Led by a big man who carries a Scofield."<br/><br/>Wade felt his anger abate, and the tip of his finger poked the rim of his hat up. "They were headed straight for Bozeman Flats," Wade looked around, "Even I know that place reeks of ill-repute. We found the murdered rancher and his hired hands, and I buried them as best able. Set Jo to camp, not wanting her to see things like that. She'll be hungry, only had jerky ... but, she had the sense to bring food along. Back's gonna be sore for a week sleeping upright against a rock ..."<br/><br/>Wade turned. His eyes betrayed him and glanced at the house, hoping to see a beautiful woman with long, dark hair peering out toward him. Disappointed, Wade regarded the Bryson father once more.<br/><br/>"So, if there's nothing else, I'll be making my way to Olmstead for the night. I gotta man to track down come morning."<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Hank Bryson was not a man to be trifled with, and thus the air between the two cowboys simmered and crackled with tension. The older man didn't blink his eyes, but continued staring at Wade like he was daring him to do something or say something reckless. He didn't like how that cowboy's eyes had turned warm when he was eyeing Josephine and he certainly did not like how he had reacted to this silent challenge. But, the older man could find a tiny hint of something akin to respect for Wade for not having backed down or immediately left once faced with the wrath of a worried father. There were not many men in the world that Hank had encountered whom would have so brazenly glared back at him. He was used to people cowering before him, letting him show his dominance - for he was a man to be respected. His dark blue eyes, so alike Jo's, never left Wade's gaze; but still the ranch owner was done sizing him up a few times and came to the conclusion that this person was not all bark and no bite. Only men that had killed and had seen some serious things in their lives, had eyes like this. Despite his friendship with Lemmy, he couldn't help but wonder just where his friend had dug up this cowboy.<br/><br/>It was only with a great deal of willpower that he managed not to chuckled dryly at Wade's words. Of course Jo had managed to convince this cowboy to search for tracks she had allegedly found. His daughter would be able to talk a felon into turning himself to the Law, if not only so that he could get a moment's peace of quiet. Hank's hardened heart ached momentarily at the thought of his beloved daughter getting herself killed or disgraced simply because she couldn't trust her father to look into matters about what had happened a year ago. It wasn't like he couldn't understand her motive, he just had a lot of a problem wrapping his mind around the fact that she was acting like one of the boys and not like the lady she was supposed to be. All he ever wanted, was to keep her home and have her safe, until someone else could take on the responsibility of caring for her.<br/><br/>Armstead shifted his feet nervously on the dry ground, despite not being a craven - he would never want to face either of the two men that were currently glaring holes into each other's skulls. Not even the sheriff could manage to make him feel so uncomfortable and<b>that </b>guy had some serious issues at times. His breathing only got slightly lighter when Wade broke off the staring and regarded him casually while speaking. Both men grit their teeth at the news. It was nothing new to hear that scum would gather in Bozeman Flats, but the news about the dead rancher made them uncomfortable and angered beyond. Hank would make sure to go in person to speak with the man's family, as he had no intention of sending a stranger (and possibly a dangerous one at that) to break such news about the passing of a beloved person.<br/><br/>"Perhaps it would've been good on her to see the bodies. Teach her to stay home."<br/><br/>It was obvious from his cold words and hardened tone that Hank was far from ready to start forgiving his daughter for what she had done. And even if some would find his methods of raising her a bit harsh, he only wanted what was best for her. Even if he often forgot to<b>ask </b>her before making decisions<b>for</b>her. Armstead sucked in a soft breath as he watched his father's face darken dangerously when Wade so obviously allowed his gaze to return back to the house. They didn't need to read his mind to know what he was thinking about. Josephine was a mighty pretty girl and probably not of the same caliber as other women in that cowboy's life.<br/><br/>"So, you's a bounty hunter?"<br/><br/>The older man finally drawled out, seemingly not all that pleased either with that information. Those few bounty hunters he'd known throughout his years had all been fellas that couldn't be trusted for as much as a dime. Let alone, with someone's daughter. His eagerness to get rid of this fella only grew and instead of questioning Wade any further, the ranch owner decided to completely dismiss him.<br/><br/>"Best be on yer way then. Hear ye folks have a busy schedule."<br/><br/>The older man didn‘t even try to conceal his disdain for everything Wade stood for. Tipping his hat with cold eyes, the man turned to leave, his youngest son heaving yet another sigh of relief as he also tipped his hat to Wade, with a slightly more polite and friendly expression. However, before either men would be able to enter the house, the doors were opened in a flurry and out stormed Cathryn Lou Bryson. Her dark blonde hair was pinned up in a tight knot and she wore a very respectable gown of dark blue material. To top off the 'matron' look, there was a pristine white apron tied around her small waist. The woman looked a bit younger than her years told and her pale blue eyes gave a clear hint that she had a sharp mind. Seemingly having recovered from the emotional moment from before, she placed her work-worn hands on her hips and spun to glare at her husband.<br/><br/>"Now, what on God‘s green earth is going on out here?"<br/><br/>Hank‘s expression got pinched like he‘d just bitten into a lemon and he shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans while averting his gaze from his wife's. Armstead's eyes widened before he looked quickly towards his father and then down at the ground. For a hilarious moment, they both looked like young boys that had just done gotten scolded by their mama. Hank was the one to break the silence, attempting at explaining to Cathryn the facts of what was going on.<br/><br/>"Boy‘s on his way. Got things to do."<br/><br/>"I‘ll pretend I did not hear that. I know for sure that you did not just plan on sending him his way after he brought back our daughter, without offering him as much as a cold beverage."<br/><br/>Both father and son seemed to shrink a good deal underneath the fiery gaze of Cathryn, before she turned a motherly look towards the cowboy in question. He too, would have no chance of objecting to what she had already decided.<br/><br/>"I know you must be hungry and tired. Come on, I‘m fixing up dinner. You‘ll be eatin‘ with us and stayin‘ the night. Armstead, you go on and take Mr...?" the woman waited expectantly until Wade would share his name with her, "Mr. Tillman's horse and have it taken care of. And I won‘ be hearing no objections."<br/><br/>As if anticipating that her husband would start protesting, her hand was already raised in the air to emphasize on her words. With an angry grumble, the older man went into the house just as Armstead would approach Wade and Dusty. The look the young Bryson male gave the cowboy warned him<b>not</b>to start objecting to what the woman had decided on. It'd be in<b>all </b>of their interest if everybody just went along with her orders.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade tipped his hat at the blonde woman, one side of his mouth lifting into a charming half-smile. "Much obliged, Ma'am," Wade said, quietly. Cathryn gave Wade a fierce once over, absorbing the man's very essence with her piercing, hawk-like eyes. She nodded and lagged behind Hank's approach back to the house. Wade surrendered to the mixture of spoken directives and unspoken cues swirling about him. Non-verbal communication -- or, an awareness of its intrinsic value -- could save a man's life, and Wade lived through harrowing times by simply moving with the flow that God sent him down. Armstead had already disappeared behind the great, wooden barn with Dusty, though Wade knew he would soon join the group. The Bryson matron seemed like a woman not to be trifled with, and though Wade would stand toe-to-toe with Hank over the virtues of honor and gratitude, he knew that he would be defenseless against Jo's mother. She came across as a woman who already knew Wade's motives and, to whatever degree capable, accepted him.<br/><br/>The mannerism and character of children and parents always intrigued Wade. The bounties that Wade pursued were often against individuals, and those individuals -- regardless of crime -- could be readily tracked if the perpetrator's kin were local to the crime. The family often sheltered the criminal, for he was always the son of a poor, God-fearing woman trying her best. Wade had survived his fair share of shoot outs with the family of a criminal, who either defended their law-breaking child by right or principle. Sometimes, an entire family was posted as a bounty, as if a collective family unit turned from God in a wide swath of sin to the ways of greed and violence. The Devil could easily tempt in hard times, and Wade felt remorse for their plight when he fought them. But, gun them down he did, just the same. Wade had shot and killed young boys before, both by accident, as they fired wildly from behind windows inside slanted homesteads. To Wade, the crack of gunfire meant live targets and only afterwards did Wade survey the cost of his actions. When able, Wade endeavored to catch the younger boys off-guard and scare them to surrender. He'd lost a few hundred dollars not bringing the boys in dead, but Wade didn't mind. Wade knew the difference between a Federal judge of this world and Judgement by the Heavenly Father -- Wade wanted to be able to look God in the eye without remorse for a single action in this life.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Regardless, children never fall far from the tree of their lineage, and Jo would proved no exception. Knowing Jo for the time that he had, Wade mapped the personalities on display before him. Wade found Jo's stern facade and confidence in Hank, but the steely determination and kindness in her heart came from the mother. Jo offered Wade that scrumptious biscuit; Cathryn now offered Wade a meal -- both gestures of gratitude and given freely. The one unusual aspect was Jo's appearance; she resembled neither of her parents overtly, but retained aspects of both in slight measure -- she was herself, as if a new person had come into being, one proud and full of vitality.<br/><br/>It didn't dawn upon Wade that he would be seeing Jo again until he nearly reached the wide, front porch that overlooked the vast eastern horizon. Hank had already walk inside after stomping his boots to shed what minor soil clung to his soles. Wade realized that it would take more than few grumpy stomps to make himself presentable. Jo had been his charge in the wilds of the open range, and while not Wade's<i>per say</i>, the territory was one where Wade's experience pegged him as the dominant persona -- it was his world, and now Wade was about to enter into hers. Wade felt ragged and disheveled then, and he stood as Cathryn stepped into the house. But she did not remain, for she turned and took up a stiff bristled broom about three feet long. With a perturbed sigh, she began to pat the flat side of the bristles against Wade's body. He flinched and squinted at the treatment, and Cathryn wasn't finding the dust cloud emanating from the man that she expected. Wade quickly reached out and grasped the handle above Cathryn's hand. "I can ... take care of that myself," Wade said, patiently.<br/><br/>"Oh ... of course you can." Cathryn stood holding her own finger as she supervised Wade de-dust himself. Thankfully, the duster coat he wore and left on his horse retained the accumulated dust from his travels. His pants were the major culprit, and he patted himself quietly as Cathryn looked on. She glanced behind her, then spoke earnestly. "Mr. Tillman, I want you to know how grateful I am that you brought our Jo back. Hank's grateful too, he's just ... well, you know." Wade averted his gaze, but nodded. Men were men, and rarely got along when of a similar ilk. "Was she much trouble?" Cathryn asked.<br/><br/>Wade looked up this time, and he smiled. "None," he said. "Every bit as kind as you are, I reckon." Wade handed Cathryn back her dusting broom, certain that he was sufficiently clean or semi-suitable for entry.<br/><br/>Cathryn stood tall and firm. "That may be, but what she did was reckless. We're all fortunate that you found her ... we really can't thank you enough, Mr. Tillman."<br/><br/>Wade stared into Cathryn's blue gaze. The mother's look came sharp, unlike Jo's which was soft and yielding -- both, however, expressed a soulful aura that ran straight to Wade's core. Wade looked down, wondering why his eye might start misting. "Um .." he said, fiddling with his buckle. "You can call me Wade," he said. He pulled his gun belt from the loops of his pants. "Where would you like me to keep my guns?"<br/><br/>The bundle of leather and steel, coiled like a manufactured adder, bothered the woman. Her hands shifted to her hips and she took a step back from Wade's gesture, confused. "Sorry," she said, looking at him. "I don't ..."<br/><br/>"I don't care to wear my guns into a house, unless there's someone inside I'm chasing. Besides," Wade said, that charming smile returning, "this isn't just a house ... it's a home."<br/><br/>Cathryn's face lit up in a shy smile, her eyes and bearing full of pride. "I reckon so." She pointed with her face inside. "There's an empty cabinet next to the door. You can keep them in there." Wade nodded and looked inside the home and saw shadows silhouette against the dim light of the dining room. Cathryn hooked her arm with Wade's. "Come along, Wade," she insisted, "I hope you like ham."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Stepping back inside the house gave the young female a huge sense of safety, but it also made her feel strangely sad as she made her way up to her room to get herself ready for dinner. Her mind lingered with a certain cowboy she would probably never see again. A cowboy whom had been nothing but kind and understanding, someone whom possessed hardened and yet soft eyes as he beheld her. She was already done forgiving him for tying her up and even for chasing her down, especially after she had encountered those bad men on their way back. Lord only knew what would have happened had she been alone when facing them. She hadn't even needed Wade to tell her they were bad, it was apparent in their gazes and the very way they carried themselves. But he had given her the courage to stay strong and silent while they dealt with those ruffians.<br/><br/>The dark haired female had by now already washed herself off with a dampened cloth, also applying some water to her thick hair to get most of the dust out of it. She didn't have time for proper bathing, but already felt much better after being done with that little 'cat washing' of hers. The female had enjoyed it thoroughly to dip her feet into cold water, and now she had bandaged them up enough so that she could walk without trouble. The manly clothing had been discarded off, her mother probably already beating the dust off of it outside of the house, and instead Jo slipped into a feathery light shift made of white material, and over it a light blue dress that caused her dark blue eyes to look very vibrant. She braided her hair after combing through it, a few unruly strands curling against her face and neck as they were still damp. Taking a quick look in the mirror, she heaved a soft sigh. Now she looked again like the innocent, well behaving rancher daughter she was supposed to be.<br/><br/>As soon as the trousers had been taken off, she'd felt how everything changed back to the old ways. There would probably be no more adventures for her. No one that would be teaching her how to properly track down bandits. No one that could make her feel at ease with just a few simple words, no one that would be riding side by side with her and making her feel like she was completely safe against even the worst kind of people.<br/><br/>"Jo, I need help down here."<br/><br/>Grimacing inwardly, she stepped out of her room and tip toed down the staircase. Of course her mother would never ask Jo's father or brother to help out in the kitchen, for that was the domain for women only. As soon as Jo reached the bottom of the stairs, she came to an abrupt stop and her mouth dropped slightly open while her large eyes turned even larger in her lovely face.<br/><br/>"Wade? I- I mean, Mr. Tillman. You're... here."<br/><br/>She had not been expecting to see the cowboy again. And certainly not inside of this particular house, whilst linking arms with her mother. Did her father know of this? For a moment she just stood there while her cheeks pinked slightly and her nervous hands went on to smooth down the skirts of her pretty dress. How weird it was that she felt grateful that Wade could see her like this, prettied up and not sweaty and dusty, but at the same time ... she also felt weirdly caught off guard while standing in front of him looking so girly. It was apparent that she was not only surprised but also glad to see him, despite the young girl looking extremely awkward.<br/><br/>"Josephine. Is there something wrong? I was going to ask you to go fetch the salad."<br/><br/>Her mother's voice rang out as the older woman narrowed her eyes slightly at her daughter, causing the dumbfound girl to jump before she turned on her heel with a swoosh of her skirts and darted into the kitchen. Leaving Wade with her mother to go to the dining room that was just on his right side. Her cheeks were rapidly getting redder, the corners of her mouth slowly lifting up as she counted her blessings that her dear mother had probably overruled her father and invited Wade inside for dinner. Meanwhile, Cathryn only sighed as she escorted Wade to the very spacious dining room that was decorated with many cabinets and pictures, an amused smile on her lips while she reminisced about her younger years. How it had felt to have her first crush. It was extremely easy to read Jo, especially for the woman that had given birth to her, so naturally she'd known right away that her daughter harbored some sort of feelings towards this hardened cowboy. Of course, she'd need to let Jo know that this was not going to be advancing any further... but for the remainder of this day, she'd allow the girl to dream.<br/><br/>"Right this way, Mr. Tillman. You'll have to excuse my daughter, she's a little rough around the edges. I think she takes very much after her father."<br/><br/>The last words were said in a louder tone just as they entered the dining room, causing a rumble of a growl to come out of the head of the family whom was already sitting at the large dining table. Jo came bustling in after them with a bowl of salad, her eyes stealing a few glances towards Wade as Cathryn escorted him to a seat. After placing down the bowl, Jo hurried to her own seat, that was on the opposite side of the table to Wade - so they were directly facing each other. Cathryn and Hank were seated on the opposite ends of the table, while Armstead was seated next to Jo. He looked just about as nervous as she felt, constantly squirming on his seat and occasionally clearing his throat while glancing from his mother to his father.<br/><br/>"Please, go ahead, Mr. Tillman."<br/><br/>Cathryn beckoned for him to have the first serving of the food. The ham smelled divine, and so did the mashed potatoes and string peas. The salad was fresh and there was a pitcher of water and a pitcher of lemonade on the table as well. Jo reached for the lemonade while chewing nervously on her bottom lip as her father would not cease staring with hostility at Wade. Cathryn decided that that was her cue to try and start up a conversation, before things would start going south.<br/><br/>"I believe you chase down people for a living?"<br/><br/>"He's a bounty hunter. An experienced one at that. Doubt he'll want to change profession any time soon, or do you have any plans for the future, Mr. Tillman? Perhaps you have a family waitin' on ya somewhere already? Maybe ye've got many women waitin' on ya?"<br/><br/>Hank grumbled out while leaning back in his chair. Jo looked down at her empty plate while clasping her hands together on her lap. It seemed like her dad was in a particularly bad mood, and it was probably all her fault. But if she'd start chastising him for how he spoke to Wade, she'd more than likely only cause his mood to worsen.<br/><br/>"I'm sure that aint none of our business, Hank."<br/><br/>The tension at the table rose a great deal as Cathryn shot her husband a murderous look. Jo, whom was slowly sinking down in her seat, couldn't help but mutter out a few words:<br/><br/>"I don't think there's anything wrong with being a bounty hunter."<br/><br/>To which Armstead elbowed her in the side.<br/><br/>"I wouldn't call that a very safe line of work, Jo. But I wouldn't expect you to understand. After all, you're only a -"<br/><br/>Her brother's mouth got clamped shut as the young male jumped up in his seat. It would not be difficult seeing just why, as Jo's hand was hidden underneath the table and her fork had gone missing; currently being probed<b>into</b>Armstead's thigh.<br/><br/>"Kiiiiiids. This is in no way a man of the Law and a young lady are supposed to behave. Especially not when we have a guest eating with us."<br/><br/>The drawn out and annoyed tone of Cathryn's voice indicated that this was far from the first time she'd have to cut in on their bickering. The woman then sent Wade an apologetic smile.<br/><br/>"I hope the food'll taste good."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/><i>"I believe you chase down people for a living?"</i><br/><br/><i>"He's a bounty hunter. An experienced one at that. Doubt he'll want to change profession any time soon, or do you have any plans for the future, Mr. Tillman? Perhaps you have a family waitin' on ya somewhere already? Maybe ye've got many women waitin' on ya?"</i><br/><br/><i>"I'm sure that aint none of our business, Hank."</i><br/><br/><i>"I don't think there's anything wrong with being a bounty hunter."</i><br/><br/><i>"I wouldn't call that a very safe line of work, Jo. But I wouldn't expect you to understand. After all, you're only a --- OW!"</i><br/><br/><i>"Kiiiiiids. This is in no way a man of the Law and a young lady are supposed to behave. Especially not when we have a guest eating with us ... I hope the food'll taste good."</i><br/><br/>The fork that Wade had used to pass himself a slab of ham remained in his hand. The man sat still, only his dangerous eyes moving as they flitted to each family member when they spoke. Those eyes -- dark as coal -- could have glowed as cinders when they landed on Jo. Her demeanor had become decidedly well-behaved, though the latent respect in her character bloomed to full display. She was holding her tongue, and his gut churned with longing when those gorgeous, feminine eyes met his own gaze. Wade looked down, quietly clearing his throat, knowing -- feeling -- that all eyes and conversation points were now directed toward him. More than that, as a river collected tributaries, the accumulated burden to perform socially weighed upon Wade's shoulders and he heaped a pile of string peas onto the china plate before him.<br/><br/>The people around him worked in different ways, Wade thought, all toward disparate ends. Motivation and tenor could sometimes conflate or diverge -- did Hank truly despise him, or did he just distrust the rugged gunman? Either.<i>Or both? </i>Wade shifted uncomfortably in his seat, though he took heart in the two women at the table. Cathryn had already shown herself to be kind and grateful, and she seemed to want Wade to be treated with some degree of humanity. And then, there was Jo. Wade dropped a dollop of mashed potatoes on this plate, sneaking a glance up at Jo, who sat directly across the table from him. As he did, he almost felt Hank's ire manifest, like the rumble of violent thunder that rippled across the landscape of the table's finery. Wade was no fool, and a father's displeasure could rival the wrath of the most deranged criminal. Still, Wade heard Hanks accusation -- tantamount to an open besmirching of his character -- along with Cathryn's attempts to assuage the anger she correctly assumed was growing in the bounty hunter. The first step of any engagement was to chose a judicious entrance -- the conversation would be no different.<br/><br/>"I know the food will taste good, Ma'am," Wade began. "Jo was kind enough to share some biscuits this morning. They were the tastiest morsels I've had to eat in a long time."<br/><br/>"Liar," Hank muttered, leaning over his mashed potatoes.<br/><br/>Narrowing her eyes, Cathryn threw her husband an icy glare. "Hank ... don't be rude." Whether she referred to directly challenging Wade's integrity or commenting on her cooking remained unclear. Maybe, that was the point. Wade cleared his throat.<br/><br/>"I don't lie, Mr. Bryson. Never have and never will. So, I'm tellin' ya the truth when I say that I have no one waiting for me. The closest thing I have to a home is a locked shed outside of Lubbock, Texas; the only family I had was gone when I buried my Pa 'bout ten years ago. And I've killed more men than the Illinois 5th Regiment, but every one of 'em brought nothing but misery into God's world." A notable defiance crept into Wade's tone, and anyone who knew him would have left the room rather than rattling Wade, who had seen more hardship than ten men. "So, when I say the biscuits were the best I've tasted, I mean it."<br/><br/>A pall silence fell over the table. Wade controlled his breathing to de-escalate the tension that he and Hank seemed to ignite in one another. He glanced at Armstead -- the purported man of the law -- only to find him looking downward and avoiding the subtle  warfare that waged across the table. He could have been keep out of it as a mark of wisdom; Wade thought him a coward. Those dark eyes shifted to Hank once more, not satisfied with simply stating his character -- he wanted to prove it.<br/><br/>"In fact, ..."<br/><br/>Wade waited until Hank dragged his leering eyes from his food to regard him. "In fact, those biscuits were so good, they saved our lives this morning."<br/><br/>It was Hank's turn to narrow his eyes, munching his maw like a cow and dropping his fork on the plate with a clatter. He picked up the napkin at his side and wiped his mouth, his mustache pulling out clean. "Is that a fact?" Hank's tone turned darker somehow, almost daring Wade to continue.<br/><br/>Wade leaned back, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. He nodded to the elder Bryson, stare never wavering. "I'm out here hunting a thief and a killer. Jo and I found him about three hours southwest of here. He wasn't alone, and your wife's biscuit convinced him that we were local. He wanted to kill me ... I could see it in his eyes." A new, hardened quality entered Wade's glare -- one forged from the War, from hundreds of gunfights, from moments where turning the wrong corner would have been met with a hail of bullets.<br/><br/>Hank vented an ugly exhale through his nose, looking at his half-eaten ham. "Even more reason for Jo to have stayed home," he argued.<br/><br/>"I'm not defending what Jo did, Mr. Bryson. But, she sensed what you seem to ignore."<br/><br/>"And, what's that, Mr. Tillman?" Hank said, defiance now his companion.<br/><br/>"That danger isn't something<i>out there</i>, but closer than you think." Wade turned to Armstead, who still acted as if he hoped to avoid being dragged into the verbal scuffle. "Being a lawman, I would have thought that you'd have noticed? The red-bearded killer had twelve men around him from Olmstead. You really not notice that many desperate men in town?"<br/><br/>"Enough!" Cathryn said. Her volume surprised even her. She pursed her lips, looking between all the men at the table. "I won't have such talk at my table. Bandits, guns, killing ... honestly." Cathryn shook her head, as if to dispel the topics from her ears. Wade nodded slightly in accord with the matron's wishes. He felt his heart opening, thinking at just how close he and Jo came to dying that morning. A pain struck his chest, and he moved his eyes to Jo once again.[/padding]<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Jo's gaze went from one person to the other as they spoke in turn, but most of the time she found her eyes drawn towards the cowboy with the dark and dangerous gaze. She felt weirdly attracted to that rugged man, a tiny little flutter of something akin to joy and excitement causing a riot in her stomach each time their eyes would meet. Her father was proving to be as stubborn and narrow-minded as usually, earning himself a few eye-rolls from his daughter (when he wasn't looking). Meanwhile her brother sat like a mindless puppet at her side, occasionally nodding his head to his father's words. Honestly, Jo wondered if Armstead had gotten brainwashed when younger. But she instantly regretted that thought, he just wanted to please their father; which was never an easy task.<br/><br/>When the debate about the biscuits started, Jo froze in midair with her hand stretched out towards the bowl of string peas. Her large eyes stared at Wade as he started sharing more about his past, the delighted female then quick to grab the bowl and start serving herself when she felt rather hardened looks come from her brother and father. Wade was starting to look rather angry, causing the raven haired female to worry that her father's pig headed nature would drive<b>her</b>cowboy out of the house. She shoved the bowl at Armstead, then went on to munch on the peas, far too engrossed in the conversation that was currently taking place than getting herself more food. A flutter of gratitude caused her heart to swell when he spoke of how the biscuits had saved their lives, the female wondering just how she was supposed to say her thanks to him for mentioning that. Even if her father had been doubtful, she could see it in his eyes that he was a bit affected by what Wade said.<br/><br/>The female bristled slightly when her father commented on how she should have rather stayed home, before her gaze once again turned to Wade. A shaky breath left her lips when he said what nobody had yet dared to mutter out. The female sank slowly in her chair again, reaching out with her leg and poked gently at Wade's shin. The touch ran down to his foot, where she rubbed her toes lightly against while looking at him with a small smile. There was no indecent thought behind that small touching, only her trying to show her gratitude and happiness over what he had just done. Not only had he somewhat defended her, he'd also breached a forbidden subject.<br/><br/>Armstead had frozen up in his seat, his eyes wide and startled as they stared at Wade. Hank, however, didn't comment much on what had been said. His eyes turned back to his food, where he poked at it with his fork until an irritated sound came from his dear wife. She had already put a halt to the conversation, but the old cowboy knew that it was about time he'd start doing something. This bounty hunter fella had only further spurred his own suspicions, something he and Lemmy had already been agreeing on. There was something fishy going on in the town of Olmstead. Armstead might be too green to spot it, but hardened old dogs were always quick to sniff out trouble.<br/><br/>The rest of the meal was spent in silence, for the most part. Occasionally, Jo would poke at Wade with her toes and foot while a mischievous glint would fill her eyes. Armstead wolfed down most of the food on the table, whilst Cathryn and Hank ate slowly without looking much up. Once Hank was finished off his plate, he started to get up while glancing at his wife.<br/><br/>"'Scuse me."<br/><br/>Jo watched her father get up, the expression on his face a bit weird in her opinion.<br/><br/>"Tillman, when you're done come see me in my study. Jo can show you the way there. I need to talk to you, alone."<br/><br/>His heavy gaze rested on his rebellious daughter, for he knew that she'd start looking miffed at the thought of missing out on what they'd be talking about. Jo's lower lip stuck slightly out in a pout, before she attacked a string pea with her fork. She knew better than trying to argue about this matter. Only good thing about it was the fact that she'd be getting a moment alone with Wade. And maybe later, she could make him share with her what her father had to say...<br/><br/>"Pa..."<br/><br/>Hank's gaze went to Armstead, whom looked more than a little confused if not a little hurt.<br/><br/>"Armstead, you best get on back to town and see if you can't help the sheriff in these difficult times."<br/><br/>And with that, Hank turned on his heel and stomped on out of there. Cathryn looked at her youngest boy with a bit of pity in her gaze. He'd always been the most eager to please her husband out of all their children, yet he seemed to somehow have fallen into the shadow of his siblings. It wasn't long until the young Bryson male got up and bid his farewells, before leaving the house. Jo sighed softly while watching him leave and then she turned her undivided attention towards Wade.<br/><br/>"You ready?"<br/><br/>Would he say yes, the female would get up and start walking out of the dining room, while glancing expectantly at him so he'd come walk at her side. Once they'd be out of earshot, she'd lean in and whisper quickly.<br/><br/>"Thank you, for telling him like it is. And...," the female gazed up into his eyes, momentarily distracted by the intensity of his gaze, before she continued whilst getting rather flustered, "don't keep the secrets away from me, please. I want to be a part of this as well. We found the tracks together. I know he's going to talk to you about those men. Will you tell me what you talk about?"<br/><br/>They had come to a halt in front of the closed doors to Hank's study, the female standing right in front of Wade while gazing up into his eyes while waiting for his answer. Her eyes large and pleading.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The corridor where Jo caught Wade traversed two open rooms within the house. The light there was dim, but Jo's features — especially her lovely eyes — shined brightly with emotional urgency. Slowing, their footsteps echoed under the floorboards, hollow beneath, and the faint scent of hickory smoke pervaded the rooms and passages. Wade half wondered if Jo would take his hand as she led him deeper into the house. The Bryson son had just departed, giving Wade a friendly nod with a face of questionable jealousy. Hank Bryson didn't appear to treat his children any better than strangers, and he took such tidings into account as Jo turned to face him.<br/><br/>Wade heard Jo's words and plea to be included, or rather not excluded from whatever scheme the Bryson father had conceived for the bounty hunter. The answer waited for Wade just on the other side of the closed office door, but Wade wanted to hear Jo out. He heard the need in Jo's voice, along with her stumbling over her words when she expressed her gratitude.<br/><br/>Wade lifted his lips in a faint, crooked smile.<br/><br/>"Ya already thanked me under the table, I reckon," he whispered back. Wade had reacted little to the feel of Jo's feet, which reached out in clandestine appreciation. He gave her a short smile, not wanting to dispel the grim face he'd decided to don while playing verbal poker with Hank. Under his stolid appearance —a facade — hid a heart that raced with unaccustomed zeal, knowing that Jo was touching him in secret ways. Eventually, he had shifted the toe of his boot up to briefly massage the back of Jo's ankle in acknowledgement. Unlike Jo, however, his seemingly innocent gesture carried a deep yearning that he did not know how to articulate.<br/><br/>But, as Wade stood in that corridor — confined to bare whispers — Wade fumbled as best he could.<br/><br/>"I told yer Pa what he needed to hear ... because it was the right thing to do. I don't know what he's got on his mind in there, but part wonders if he's gonna tell me to vanish while pointing a pistol at my gut." Wade paused, stealing a glaze at the door, trying to divine what trials awaited him. Pleasant or not, Wade had the pleasure of additional time in Jo's company — whatever price Wade had to endure inside Hank's office was worth paying. Jo felt close, then. She looked up into Wade's eyes. The man stifled a gasp at just how profound Jo affected him, and her eyes implored an allegiance as devoted as her gaze was soulful. That moment might have been the last private moment between them, and Wade made the decision to not waste the emotions that soared between them.<br/><br/>"Jo, I promise I'll tell ya." The fingers of his hand — marred and scuffed — curled around Jo's palm. Those eyes.<i>Those eyes</i>. A part of Wade's core melted like thermal iron, and relenting came with unnatural ease. "Anyone ever tell ya that you have eyes like an angel. I don't think I could ever say 'no' to you."<br/><br/>Wade squeezed and released, entering the office. The door closed, and Wade found Hank behind a desk looking at a crude map. Wade hooked his thumbs on his belt, wishing that he had his pistols. He wore a face of disinterest, hoping to quell any private rebuke from the old man.<br/><br/>"What you want to talk to me about, Mr. Bryson?" Wade asked.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Wade left behind him a young woman whose heart was deeply touched by his words and gesture. Her big eyes rested on the back of the cowboy for those few seconds which passed, before he closed the door. Jo's heart felt like it was beating out of her chest as she rubbed her fingers across her palm, knowing deep down that she'd always remember the feeling of his warm and rough hand as it had held hers. A whole new world was opening up for her, an exciting but also rather scary feeling causing a turmoil in her stomach. She'd never allowed a man to hold her hand before, not that the cowboy had asked for permission, but Wade seemed to have been the perfect candidate to be the first.<i>"Anyone ever tell ya that you have eyes like an angel" </i>- a bright blush crept to her cheeks, causing Jo to let out a soft little (and very feminine) squeal before she turned on her heel and fled to her room.<br/><br/>Hank's office was spacious and practical. Whereas most men would have had their chair positioned so that they had a spacious window and beautiful view behind them, his was the exact opposite. Nobody would be sneaking up on him. The desk was positioned sideways to the door and window, so that the rancher could have a good view of both entrances, and possible exits. He hadn't lived for this long by behaving like some simpleton and turning his back on men. There were two leather chairs in front of his desk for visitors to sit on, and a dark red rug underneath them. Bookshelves, maps and all manners of guns adorned the dark wood walls. The smell of tobacco and leather was prominent in there, but it was not a stifling scent. A small cabinet with a few bottles of alcohol was in the far right corner, and a large painting of Hank's family was on the wall behind him. Jo was perhaps 10 years old on it, and the art was truly breathtaking.<br/><br/>The gray haired rancher had been standing next to the large window when Wade entered. For a moment, he did not turn or otherwise acknowledge Wade's existence in his private room. But finally, the man heaved a deep sigh, before his eyes rested heavily on the cowboy as he turned around. His gaze was not hostile nor was it cold, but it looked more like the man was exhausted. His shoulders seemed to sag slightly as he sauntered towards his chair and sat down, before beckoning for Wade to take a seat in either of the other chairs. Whether Wade would sit or continue standing, Hank would start explaining what it was he wanted.<br/><br/>"I ken the problem in Olmstead. Better than you or anyone else knows."<br/><br/>His brows were furrowed on his forehead, while he tapped his fingers on the shiny surface of his mahogany desk.<br/><br/>"Ye don't need to bark so loudly 'bout it. I've lived here far too many years to be blind on what's wrong. Problem is..."<br/><br/>His mustache twitched as he glanced out of the window again.<br/><br/>"I'm not fairly certain of whom knows it also or who cares. If my daughter wasn't busy riding off on her own or spying around people in town," a vein seemed to start popping out on his temple as he seemingly recalled the many things Jo had done in spite of his orders, "she might have realized that things in Olmstead are getting too dangerous for anyone to ask any questions or decide to take things in their own hands. Which is why you will not be telling my son to stick his nose into anyone's business. Ye hear me? He's far too naive to know when he's entering a dangerous territory."<br/><br/>Waggling a finger at Wade, his eyes finally gleaming with the fire of his temper, the man continued talking:<br/><br/>"I been meaning to talk to Lemmy. If my biggest fears are real... We need all the help we can get. That's why I wanted to talk to you. Even if you chase my daughter around with your eyes, thinking I don't notice, I respect whatever bond is between ye and Lemmy. And if he trusts you and thinks you're resourceful enough to find and rope in my wild daughter... must mean you can help out here. No matter what I think of it."<br/><br/>Pursing his lips, Hank suddenly stood again and paced towards the window. It was obvious he didn't find it an easy task to be speaking of these matters with Wade. Having to ask this stranger for help was a large bite to swallow for a man as proud as Hank. But in dark times, one needed to forget his pride. Especially when the family was on the line.<br/><br/>"The sheriff is a shady man. Law and crime seem to be having too much in common lately. But I don't know who is behind it all. Sheriff's too green to know his elbow from his ass, so he can't be in charge of whatever's going on. Which is why I need good men in town and here on the ranch. Especially when Jo keeps fluttering around without a damn care in the world."<br/><br/>The last words were muttered rather bitterly. His daughter was probably the biggest cause for why the man looked a bit older than his years told. He turned again, crossed his arms, his gaze heavy as it probed at Wade.<br/><br/>"Ye think ye can stay in one place long enough to help clean out this rattlesnake nest that is Olmstead? 'Course, your work wouldn't go unpaid... I reckon ye will want to know if there's money in it."<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The large window in Hank's office offered more than the view it afforded. The horizontal bands of ochre land and blue sky epitomized the rugged, austere range in perfect portraiture, making the wide frame more of a portent than a portal. Wade wondered how often Hank stood before that very window, hands clasped behind his back in stolid, grim thought. What were his thoughts? Wade could tell that Hank possessed a closed personality, and being invited into his office opened a door into an inner world few were allowed the privilege of experiencing. The sundry papers and maps told Wade that Hank had been busy tracking movements and divining the purpose — presumably of the rustlers — for some time. The firearms mounted in the wall demanded a grudging respect, especially in a land where wielding a weapon could mean the difference between life and death. Wade decided that the weapons were probably loaded — a statement less about Hank's concern for safety than his propensity for preparation.<br/><br/>Wade took the seat in the offered leather chair, only after casually glancing on Hank's person to verify that he was free of firearms. Unless the man had a pistol hidden in a drawer, he'd need to rush past Wade to that wall. Wade decided that he retained a minor sense of control over his personal well-being and listened to Hank's speech. The man claimed to know more than Wade had given him credit, and though Wade silently asked a degree of forgiveness, he couldn't excuse Hank for being a rude ass upon their initial meeting.<br/><br/>That was when Hank mentioned Lemmy. In Wade's mind, all of Hank's ramblings could have been that of a paranoid old fool with too much time on his hands. But, Wade's opinion shifted at the mention of his friend. Lemmy lived his life in the cracks between where most tread, preferring to go unnoticed and conduct himself without undue attention. Regardless of his failings, Lemmy strove to make the world a better place than the day before — the fact that Hank held Lemmy in such trust and confidence (to find his wandering daughter) spoke volumes.<br/><br/>Hank finished his spiel, ending with a direct appeal to recruit Wade for the dangerous, future task of saving Olmstead. Wade didn't like the scope and drama of the situation one bit, and his gaze drifted to the wall of firearms mounted on the wall. A firm resentment gripped Wade then, and he bucked at the notion of being another "weapon" in Hank's collection of tools. The tune sounded all too familiar in Wade's unsympathetic ears:<i>save our town from villains beyond our control</i>. It wasn't the first time Wade had been tapped to intervene, and he doubted it be the last. Every town had a history, and Wade had lived long enough to understand that that history was often complex, enmeshed, and chalk full of blame on both sides.<br/><br/>Besides, why should he care about Olmstead?<i>Really</i>? As far as he was concerned, Olmstead was just another dusty ghost-town that was not yet vacant. Transience and ephemerality were the sure constants in the Western Rangelands, and Lady Luck could be as cruel as decisive in her misfortune. Why risk his neck for a town that might be empty come next year. Hank must have intuited Wade's reticence with his offer of cash.<br/><br/>"I already have a job, Hank."<br/><br/>It was true — the only reason Wade had wandered into Wyoming was to chase that wretched, red-bearded, son-of-a-whore. Any thought of calling off the hunt had been quickly set aside by the many corpses strewn in the bandit's wake. Regardless of whatever heart strings Hank tried to pull, Wade had a job to complete — for the common good, that was his charity case. Not ...<br/><br/>Wade looked up, and his eyes took in the superb painting of Hank and his family. His eyes, inevitably, glided across the canvas to the ten-year old rendition of Josephine. Every aspect of the world melted away, and only Wade's heart seemed to exist in apprehension of the pretty girl standing next to a youthful Armstead. Wade's gaze lingered and pondered about a topic he'd never given a dime of thought toward before: his future.<br/><br/>Wade swung his gaze at Hank, leaned forward with elbows on knees, and spoke. "But, that doesn't mean I can't help out. I'm on the trail of bandits, and yer lookin' fer rustlers who leave trails." A slight smile lightened Wade's boyish visage. "I think I can look for both." After that, Wade's grin faded to an expression hinting at serious honesty. "I can't stay in Olmstead forever, Hank. My path always leads onward. I can pledge that I'll help you as long as I'm here and then some."<br/><br/>Hank shifted in his chair, discomforted, yet accepting of the conditions.<br/><br/>"As for my price ..." Wade let the question linger until Hank tilted his head in stern attention. "I'll name my price once this business is settled. No use shelling out cash if I end up getting shot--"<br/><br/>"Im 'fraid, I can't do that, Wade," Hank replied. His bushy eyebrows gathered in consternation, rivaling his mustache, like a fell Norseman of old. "Can't agree on a price I'm not aware of."<br/><br/>"Let's just leave it as negotiable," Wade offered. The bounty hunter had haggled over bounty gains and damage reimbursements with appalling regularity to be shoe-horned into a financial commitment by the elder Bryson.<br/><br/>Hank grunted his consent, which was as close to a hand shake as Wade was likely to receive. Wade nodded his head, wearing a grin.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The cowboy was proving to be more intelligent than Hank would have given him credit for to begin with. Maybe because of his old and stubborn grudge against bounty hunters. In all fairness, he should've noticed right away that those keen eyes sparkled with much more than just lust after money. But the dice had been cast, the cards were on the table; Hank needed now to wait and see if Wade would accept or not. It was very seldom that the old ranch owner was the one made to wait, whilst feeling at the mercy of another person's decision. It made him uncomfortable, caused his gun-hand to twitch. Wade would do well not to lead him on for too long without giving a clear answer; yes or no. His work-worn hands were hidden underneath the desk, clasped together whilst he tapped his thumb impatiently. He thought he had been sure of what Wade's answer would be, but the other man surprised him.<br/><br/>The tense shoulders of the older man sagged slightly when the cowboy agreed to help out, despite Hank's desire to remind that insolent<b>bounty hunter </b>whom he was talking to. Once they had come to terms with.. well, negotiating at some point the end prize to the rustler hunt, it was time Hank got to his other subject at hand. It might be best for Wade not to live for too long in Olmstead, if he was going to be acting as a 'hunter' for the rancher. Too many eyes and ears were watching each move and listening for any small information there could be provided. It was for sure that if a newcomer stayed around for too long, the people they were trying to catch might start feeling suspicious and either do something reckless or start hiding their trail even better.<br/><br/>"There's a cabin about an hour ride from here. It's at the south border of my land. Nobody has used it for good two years. It's small but convenient, will keep you warm and dry. Might be best for you to stay there so nobody will start gettin' suspicious of you. The sheriff might be stupid, but he's very cautious and paranoid. He'll be trying to monitor your every movement in Olmstead, seeing how you're a new face."<br/><br/>Now that he had, for the most part, hired Wade and safely stored him away at the cabin (if Wade would agree to the offer) - he felt more inclined to speak of his daughter to him and what was needed in order to keep her safe. There were things that still needed to be taken care of, even if Hank would have preferred not to. He disliked greatly the idea of leaving his daughter behind, even when he knew she should be pretty safe where he'd be leaving her.<br/><br/>"Cathryn and I are traveling out to meet with the family of the poor ol' sod that you buried. It's the most decent thing to do, despite the timing being difficult. However..."<br/><br/>His mustache twitched a bit while he leaned back in his chair, a rumbling sound coming from him that could have been indicating his irritation - or it might just have been him clearing his throat.<br/><br/>"Josephine needs to stay with Armstead while we're away. I know Cathryn will ask you of this favor if I wont, so it'd be mighty helpful if you could escort our Jo to town. We're leavin' in the morning, early. You could stay the night here or leave with Jo before it gets too dark. I'm sure my wife has already informed Jo so she's getting ready and packing some essentials."<br/><br/>It was clearly a bit difficult for the Bryson man to ask Wade for yet another favor, even if he was bold enough to speak like Wade was already agreeing to everything. His chin was thrust slightly out while his eyes narrowed. Would Wade deny that small request, Hank would simply escort Jo himself. But that'd mean he would be robbed of the time he'd need to be getting ready for the trip. 'Course he could ask one of his cow-hands to escort his daughter, but truth be told... he'd rather have someone that could take care of himself and of Jo if trouble would arise. None of the workers on the ranch were particularly good at fighting or shooting, despite being very decent men. Armstead had already promised to tidy up his apartment so that his sister might spend some time with him. True the youngest son was not the most reliable of the lot, but he'd take good care of Jo. Only question remained, would she behave while in town?<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The ticking of the German clock that hung on the wall next to the firearms could be felt in Wade's body. Each strike of the second hand induced a minor jolt, threatening to make his muscles twitch as he tried to think on Hank's words and offer. Wade sighed when Hank finally stopped speaking. The bounty hunter thought on the situation, hoping to serve two sides of the same coin Olmstead had become: a home base for finding the robbers, as well as discharging whatever obligations Hank had in mind for him. The cabin offered an interesting possibility to the bounty hunter, though the situation -- much like Olmstead, itself -- were variable in dimension. The cabin suited Wade right down to his boots: it offered an isolated, defensible location that was true shelter against the incoming cold. And yet, as Wade examined the way Hank maneuvered him into play, he couldn't help but notice a certain strategy being employed against him.<br/><br/>The rancher had already made his displeasure with Wade's attraction of his daughter clearly known -- as clear as a stoic, gruff Western rancher is capable. So, it just happened to work out that Wade would be close enough to be useful to Hank, but distant enough from Olmstead and they Bryon Ranch to eliminate the possibility of casual encounters between himself and Jo. Olmstead was the largest town in one hundred square miles; the place wasn't as sequestered and local as Hank made out -- Wade's experience with Western, settlement towns told him that much. Wade's face certainly did not grace the streets on a daily basis, but strangers must have passed through the time all the time. And, more to the point, Wade was a master of blending into situations and assessing who and what resources could be used at his disposal for completing his mission. There was an essential quality in how Wade engaged with a new milieu and remaining under notice and out of suspicion proved vital in staying alive.<br/><br/>Still, Wade let the old man have his way; getting the gold was the main priority. Or, so Wade thought until Hank asked for a last favor. "You want me to ... escort Jo? To Olmstead?" Wade asked.<br/><br/>The notion struck Wade as antithetical to practically every action and perspective the older man had taken since they first met; suspicion against the bounty hunter was what fomented an initial stand-off and Wade's summary dismissal. Wade would have guessed that Hank's plan should have centered around separating him from his daughter, but it seemed that was not the case. Things must have been dire for Hank to trust a dusty stranger with Jo's safety. Wade thought on the matters and nodded his head.<br/><br/>"Alright, Hank." Wade said. "I'll gladly accept your offer for the cabin. As it sounds like that'll be my home, I'll need to buy what provisions I need above and beyond what I currently carry. Agreed?"<br/><br/>Hank exhaled the faintest sigh, but he nodded his consent.<br/><br/>"Good," Wade said. "I'll escort Jo to Olmstead in the morning, if that's alright? Last night was ... a bit much laying against those rocks while Jo had my sleeping roll. Bone are still cold, speaking straight and all." Wade searched for a reaction in Hank's eyes; he found none. "So, I'd appreciated a warm bed for a change, I reckon."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Hank had taken Wade's agreements as vows. He didn't feel the need to linger on the importance of the tasks laid before Wade's feet -- speaking of them at all underlied their innate gravity. With a gruff nod, Hank dismissed the bounty hunter, and Wade rose. He eyed the weapons that hung on the wall one last time before heading out of the office. The corridor was dim, compared to the bright sunlight that filtered into Hank's office. Wade heard his boots echo as he slowly made his way back to the dining room. The table had been cleared from their early dinner, and Catherine could be heard in the kitchen. Wade followed the sound of scrubbing and water sloshing, finding Catherine laboring in the sink. She paused and took a fortifying breath ... then turned around and smiled at Wade.<br/><br/>"Evening, Wade," she said, friendly.<br/><br/>"Evening, Ms. Catherine," Wade said.<br/><br/>The Bryson matron dropped her shoulders in faux exasperation, smiling. "Just Catherine will do."<br/><br/>"Yes, Ma'am ... I mean Catherine."<br/><br/>"That's better," she said. She had a towel in her hand and was drying the several dishes she had washed. "Hank ask you about escorting Jo?"<br/><br/>"Yes, he did. I agreed to take her to Armstead's place," he said, "In the morning."<br/><br/>She heaved a great sigh, partially in relief, yet haunted with worry. "Just ... can't be too careful these days. There was a time when we could leave kids here for a week with a batch of fresh eggs. Now ..." Catherine looked out of the small window above the sink. "You could station every deputy in Carbon County around this here ranch, and I'd still fret." To Wade, Catherine stiffened and lost her hands to miscellaneous flitting and desultory movements. Something snapped inside of the bounty hunter and he quietly approached the women. She woke up when he drew closer, looking up into his face with eyes that Jo inherited. She swallowed, smiling gratefully. "Yes. I'm glad that Jo ran off if it meant finding you. Did you agree to help out in town?"<br/><br/>Catherine's question made her eyes to wide in gentle curiosity -- a trait Jo definitely inherited. Wade found himself looking down, shameful of his reticence and the marginal commitment he offered Hank. "I ... I did. As best I can."<br/><br/>The answer Wade gave was good enough for Catherine, who smiled and looped her arms around Wade's neck to hug him. "Thank you, Wade." She took a step back and smoothed her apron. "Well now, we need to get you to your room."<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>The room that Catherine showed Wade spanned eight by twelve feet. Wade had been in larger and smaller, but we grateful for the taut, rope bed that occupied the near corner. There were covers and a pillow, both of which were luxuries to the bounty hunter. Wade felt as if he needed to take a bath before sullying the sheets. "Is there a place I can wash up?" he asked.<br/><br/>"There's some water, still warm, near the sink," Catherine replied. "Hank and I will be gone come morning. Help yerself to whatever is in the kitchen ... Jo should be able to take care of ya." She smiled at the last bit. Catherine turned to leave, but stooped and faced Wade again. "Oh, and Wade. Don't forget your guns. " She gave him a parting smile and strode down the short hallway and out of sight.<br/><br/>The kitchen had a single candle illuminating the woodwork, and Wade worked hard to get the grime from the places his decency would allow. He had just finished and had wrung the towel, laying it over the metal washbowl. Shirtless, he thought he heard someone shuffling down the hall ...<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Of course there was not a chance Jo could fall asleep.<i>'Anyone ever tell ya that you have eyes like an angel' - </i>at the recollection of Wade's words, the female let out a grunt while feeling her cheeks warm once again. She turned onto her stomach and hid her face into the pillow while wondering just what he meant with that. Did he like her? Or was he just being polite? There had been something extremely alluring about how he'd gazed down at her while uttering those words... With a groan, the female sat up on her bed while staring towards the door. She felt too restless to be able to stay in bed any longer. There was no sound to be heard inside of the house, indicating that everybody had gone to sleep already. But Wade had promised her that he'd tell her what had been spoken off in the office. Maybe he was going to tell her while escorting her to Olmstead... the female's heart rate picked up its pace once more at the very thought of riding side by side with the cowboy again.<br/><br/>It had baffled her when her mother had told her about the plan. Jo could not understand why they'd so readily allow Wade to escort her, but she suggested her father felt a bit like his hands were forced in the matter. Of course, she'd never object over it. That'd be foolish. Every moment spent with Wade was a gift to her. Swinging her legs out of the bed, the young woman shuffled towards the door and opened it up - peeking out the hallway before slipping out. She was wearing a very modest white night shift that reached down to the floor. Her long, thick hair was pulled into a braid that was slung over her shoulder. Wade was on the lower floor, she knew exactly which room was his. But there was no way she'd be knocking on his door and waking him up. Not only because he needed his rest, but because it'd be highly unacceptable to enter the bedroom of a man. Despite him being her new good friend.<br/><br/>Pursing her lips, the female slowly made her way down the stair-case while listening intently for any kind of sound that could indicate that<b> her</b>cowboy was still awake. Strangely enough, she could hear something coming from the kitchen. A splosh of water? Was someone still doing the dishes? Curiosity winning over, Jo silently walked in that direction. With luck, it'd be Wade - getting a glass of water. With a hopeful expression, she entered the kitchen, stopping dead in her tracks when her large eyes fell upon the man's naked upper body. Jo's nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she all but ogled him over. He looked strong, not overly muscular, but definitely strongly built enough to take care of himself against anyone that'd mess with him. His tanned skin was still slightly damp, and the female's face turned crimson as she let her gaze travel down his chest and to his abdomen.<br/><br/>"I..."<br/><br/>She licked her lips slowly, as if she was picturing something in her mind that no lady ever should, before tearing her gaze from his body - those dark blue eyes of hers meeting his gaze for a second or two. A flurry of butterflies surged around in her stomach as she suddenly spun on her heel while covering her face with her hands. But she couldn't get rid of the image that was burned into her mind. Of the first naked chest and abdomen she'd seen -<b>Wade's</b>body.<br/><br/>"I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were... uh... Please, don't let me interrupt."<br/><br/>Her cheeks continued burning in her embarrassment and unexpected excitement as she continued turning her back on him. The female did however not leave. She could not find it in her to walk away, not right now. Hoping he was not angry at her, she tried to use her softest voice while whispering again. Hoping nobody else would be hearing them.<br/><br/>"I had hoped we could... talk. If ... if you'd like. Otherwise we can speak tomorrow. I mean, if you are going to sleep then I wont bother you."<br/><br/>Her heart was thundering in her chest while she continued to cover her warm face in her hands. Honestly, she felt a slight urge to flee from the scene after having so shamefully looked him over as if he was a fine roasted Sunday steak. There was no way she could excuse her behavior, meaning Wade probably thought her a wanton woman. Which she was<b>not</b>! She had just been surprised, that was all...<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Instincts could save a man when mere thoughts failed -- that was how Wade knew that he was not alone, and what perked his ear after drying off. The bounty hunter half expected old man Bryson to amble in, smelling of pipe tobacco and regret, with gruff words of earnest apology. But, the sight of Jo struck Wade as both unexpected and utterly fortuitous. Their eyes met, and Wade stood all too aware of his partial nudity. He smirked as Jo wheeled about to face away, hoping to recover or salvage whatever impropriety she incurred. Wade felt the ends of his lips raise into an amused smile; if impropriety was afoot, it did not bother Wade in the least. In fact, the bounty hunter rather liked the circumstances at that moment; they painted a dangerous milieu for the man, but Wade skirted danger on a daily basis -- conversing with a beautiful lady by candlelight seemed like a risk with ample reward. Just as Jo had seen Wade shirtless, he had caught a fine glimpse of Jo's breasts beneath the thin shift she wore.<br/><br/>Wade reached out and grabbed a dry towel, rubbing the back of his neck casually. He acted as if alone, or in the company of someone whom he did not find threatening in any way. Wade watching Jo's backside, studied her body language: they way her hand clamped over her face.<i>You can't un-see some things</i>, Wade thought to himself. A darkness sprouted in Wade's mind then, for that was the reason he refused Jo's help in burying those dead ranchers in Hangman's Canyon. Wade had been damned long ago to vile carnage, and part of his soul cleaved off, irretrievably lost. And, despite Hank's views as a father, Jo should be spared from life's gruesome realities for as long as possible.<br/><br/>The soft candlelight illuminated Wade's slow approach to Jo. The sound of hair being scrubbed dry came louder than his expertly padded footsteps. Though closer, Wade's voice came soft, like a sultry, conversational whisper. "No, I'm not ... tired just yet," Wade almost sneered, relishing in Jo's discomfort, and he wondered if she could feel the heat that radiated off his naked torso. "I'm washing up before turning in."<i>As if she didn't know,</i>he thought wickedly. "But, as you can tell, I'm not quite ..." Wade made a theatric gesture, one Jo couldn't see; he opened his arms and looked down at his chest. "... proper, you might say? I'd be happy to keep my promise as soon as I get a shirt on."<br/><br/>The shift afforded modesty, though it exposed the expanse of Jo's inner top shoulder and neck. His breath drifted across her skin and he leaned closer, whispering in conspiratorial tones. "Why don't you meet me outside my room? I'll answer all yer questions then." With that, Wade stole a quick waft of Jo's scent before backing off and walking to his room on the ground level. The man knew he had an effect upon Jo, but he wasn't exactly sure what the effect could really be. Were Wade unscrupulous, he could have preyed upon women like Jo who found themselves enamored with a rugged rangeman. Reaching his room, Wade pulled on a cotton undershirt, laying his blue patterned button-down on a nearby chair for the morning. One side of his smile smirked upward, thinking fondly of the pretty woman as he heard her creeping outside in the hallway.<br/><br/>Wade stood tall and cast a glance at the small, rope bed in the room. The dimensions could reasonably carry a single person; the salacious thought entered his mind of how the bed would fare with two people, instead of one. Wade banished such thinking as he found a comb and made a failed, vain attempt at imposing some restraint on his wild, wet hair. Deal or no, Bryson would kill Wade if he caught Jo in his bed. Not entirely unarmed, Wade reminded himself that his pistol remained stowed in that bureau near the front door ... uncomfortably out of reach. Clearing his throat and eyeing the door, he could feel Jo waited for him. The oil lamp that illuminated the room stayed as Wade crept out into the dark hallway, finding Jo waiting for him. Keeping voices down saved them both from a world of torment and trouble, so Wade leaned in when he spoke.<br/><br/>"So, what is it that you want to know?"[/padding]<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Her own breathing thundered in her ears as heavy silence wrapped around them. Oh lord, what could she say or do to redeem herself? Was he furious with her, was that why he had not said anything? There was a wicked urge in her mind to turn around and gaze upon him anew, but her strict upbringing and morals had her remain rooted in place. A rustling sound startled her, the female straining to hear what it was that he was currently doing. Judging from the sounds, he was drying his hair, and he was also stepping closer to her. Which quickened her already erratic heartbeat.<i>Wade, what are you doing? </i>She wanted to whisper out, but found herself unable to form a single word in her anticipation and nervous state. It was probably just her imagination, but she could have sworn she felt the heat from his body against her back. But it couldn't' be that he stood that close, for it was entirely unacceptable.<br/><br/>The male's hushed voice washed over her, causing Jo's spine to turn rigid and her shoulders stiff as a board. Her hands were trembling a little bit as she continued covering her lovely face behind them. His low voice and improper presence were stirring something within her, kindling a small flame that had been dormant until now. When his warm breath caressed the exposed flesh of her neck, an audible soft gasp escaped the young female as goosebumps formed on her satin skin. Blood rushed down her body, a weird tingle started in her nipples as they poked gently at the thin fabric of her shift.<br/><br/>Shame mixed with sweet, primal excitement wracked her mind and body as she heard him back off and venture towards his room. Disappearing almost as silently as he had approached her. What would he say if she were to follow him in there, ask him to feel just what kind of effects he had on her body?<i>Golly. What's wrong with me??</i>How was Jo ever going to face him, or anyone else for that matter, while she harbored all these wicked feelings and thoughts? For a short moment she remained still while drawing in shaky breaths. Atonement needed to be made. Next Sunday, she would have to pray extremely hard at church so she could be forgiven. Until then, she might very well just lock herself in a room while contemplating the different definitions of<b>sin</b>.<br/><br/>Finally lowering her hands, she braced herself and walked silently in the same direction he'd disappeared to. If she would flee now, she felt like she'd be losing a good deal of her dignity. Better face the 'problem' head on and be able to at least satisfy her curiosity. She had every right to know what was going on, even if her father wholeheartedly disagreed with that. It was not fair to keep her out in the dark, not when it had been her actions which led them to those tracks in the first place... and had also resulted in her meeting Wade. No matter if she had momentarily found herself staring into the eyes of a murderer as a result of her rash actions of going out on her own. Standing outside of his door, she wrung her hands in nervousness while waiting for him. Once the man exited his room, she licked her lips and attempted at a trembling smile. Her eyes widened noticeably as the cowboy leaned in, offering her a waft of his scent, and for a moment she seemed to be in a trance before she could actually muster forth the will to whisper back:<br/><br/>"W-what did my father want to talk to you about?"<br/><br/>The desire to comb her fingers through his still damp and unruly hair as it was curling slightly above his ear, forced her to place her hands behind her back and entwine her fingers so that she would not end up breaking every rule there ever had been bestowed in this house.<br/><br/>"Does he really know something about what's happening in town? Does he also suspect the sheriff? Did he ask you to help out?"<br/><br/>Her dark blue eyes sparked with the spirit of inquiry as her husky, whispered voice rose a little in her enthusiasm. Jo would probably make a mighty fine newspaper woman, if that would have been an option for her.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Stepping out into the dark hallway, Wade looked down the length of the corridor to peer into the dimly lit, adjacent rooms. He remained silent, listening for anything that might betray the proximity of an interloper: a creaking board or scuff of clothing. The only people who could intrude would have been Jo’s parents, and Wade hoped that Hank and Katherine turned in after the tumultuous day. The prospect of losing their only daughter must have terrified the couple, and Katherine’s punitive slap showed how much Jo meant to her. The depth of that love touched Wade, and he longed for someone to care for him just as intensely. Who would miss Wade, were he shot dead in some God-forsaken gully, hunting a desperado few would ever remember? Wade conceded that his profession assumed a degree of expendability; he was an anonymous arm of the law that everyone despised and feared. That negative connotation burned in Hank’s eyes the moment he laid his terrible sight on Wade – a glare that only grew baleful when it was apparent Jo’s feeling were in the mix. Regardless of how society assigned his lot and reputation, Wade knew that Lemmy’s word held great sway in the rancher’s esteem.<br/><br/>Wade pondered this fact when he was washing himself at the kitchen sink. Being a bounty hunter meant being on the run: not from a crime, but in pursuit of those who had committed crimes. There was a sick irony in how Wade’s daily life and fate rested on the poor judgement and evil nature of Godless cretins. Such a life proved Wade to be resourceful, cunning, deadly, relentless, hard: attributes many would ascribe to criminals, themselves. Wade pondered what he had become and for what purpose. He had always eschewed the praise of common folk, sensing their respect paper-thin, like a veneer, which covered the distain they held in his regard. To Wade, he did those people a favor by eliminating desperate men, and the judgement they rendered unto him always tasted bitter with ingratitude. But, under the emotional armor he wore, Wade yearned to belong somewhere … and to someone. Lemmy did; and, though Lemmy’s choice of wife still perplexed him, he did not judge him one bit.<br/><br/>The dim corridor lent an air of apt conspiracy to the meeting. Wade and Jo faced one another, Wade propped against a wall. He leaned down when Jo spoke, his face nearing hers and seeing her features – exquisite, even in the low light. An oil lamp illuminated Wade’s room, and the open door allowed what light came to spill into the hallway. The light flooded the area behind Jo, which from Wade’s perspective gave her an aura of beauty. Feelings of wanting lurched in Wade’s gut and he leaned closer still to listen to Jo words, which came in a hushed whisper. Jo’s scent wafted from her hair and filled Wade’s nostrils – that physical aspect of her presence made his heart pause in need and stuttered his initial attempts at speaking.<br/><br/>“Yer father, he … um … he … asked if I intended on staying in Olmstead.” Wade looked up, not realizing his eyes had cast themselves downward. The blue eyes that met his made him want to abandon every inch of violence slated to mar his future days. The look Jo returned prompted Wade to continue and explain himself.<br/><br/>“He wanted me to help with the problems he feels are stirring up. He suspects the sheriff is dull and knows more than he’s letting on. Yer pa wanted me to be part of a solution, one that still needs to be figured out. I told him that I already had a job, and that’s why I’m here in the first place.”<br/><br/>Wade watched the features on Jo’s face shift, the exact expression obscured by the relative darkness.<br/><br/>“But,” Wade continued, “I told him that there’s no reason why I can’t do both, at the moment.” Wade found himself wondering how Jo had gotten so close, as if a pale gravity drew him toward her with inextricable, constant attraction. It was Wade who could feel Jo’s heat then, and a supremely feminine quality tempted Wade to bring her into his room and quietly – though fiercely – claim her for himself right then and there. He felt Jo’s wrist in the fingers of his right hand, the touch of his thumb brushing back the frail transparent cuff of Jo’s sleeve. His thumb lightly rubbed her soft, not soft and yet not hard – a perfect texture that matched her perfect eyes.<br/><br/>Wade could almost taste her breath as he tried to continue. “He … asked about payment. I told him that … I couldn’t give a price for a task undefined. So, I told him that I’d name my price later.” Jo’s face became Wade’s world, encompassing the breadth of his vision in looming grandeur.<i>She was so damn beautiful</i>. Wade’s lips erupted in a faint chuckle. “Yer pa didn’t much like that. He likes to call the shots and we agreed to talk about compensation later. It’d shock your pa if he knew that I don’t want money. Man’s gotta eat and all, but …”<br/><br/>Wade felt himself teetering on the edge of destiny as Jo’s lips seemed to call out. “… some things are more important to a man.”<br/><div style="text-align: center">……………………………………………………….​</div><br/>Never before had Jo felt so smitten, so completely enthralled by anyone. Least of all a man she had only just recently met and could count on the fingers of one hand how many times she'd had a serious conversation with. This must be what girls that 'went bad' must experience. Now she could perhaps understand the few stories she'd heard about 'fallen women' and how they had to live with shame after sinning. It was easy enough to agree to whatever rules were laid down in the household, promising to behave and never to sin or so much as think indecently of another human being. Jo had honestly always prided herself of being a very good girl, despite her rebellious personality. She had never caused her parents any trouble when it came to men, on the contrary they had started worrying a little over her indifference when a decent enough bloke tried courting her. So it had come as a great surprise when she felt this attraction for Wade.<br/><br/>But even when she knew the risks of said allurement, here she stood in the dark corridor and mentally begged her parents for forgiveness, while leaning in as close as she dared to the cowboy she knew was not meant for her. His scent, the heat radiating from him, that husky and low voice of his... along with that gaze he sent her; it all caused her knees to feel weak and seriously messed with her good intentions of only wishing for a brief conversation about an important matter. It did not come as a terrible surprise to the young female that her father had requested Wade to stay longer in Olmstead. She knew that even if the older man had a lot of pride and hardly ever bent to anyone else's will, he would still realize they needed all the help they could get. Especially now that she knew her father suspected the sheriff of foul play. But hearing this cowboy in front of her confirm what she had truly hoped for, caused her heart to drum all that faster in her chest while she fought with the urge to smile. It concerned her for a brief moment that he might have, after all, turned down her father's request. A shadow of disappointment fell across her fair features and her eyes turned even bigger in her brief distress. But Wade reassured her that he would be giving them his assistance. And then she could no longer conceal the triumphant smile that briefly claimed her lips.<br/><br/>Before she had a chance to say anything though, her lovely eyes went round with surprise when she felt his fingers touching her delicate wrist. The contact sent a shiver through her slender body and robbed her lungs of air as she felt intense warmth spread up from her wrist where he rubbed her oh so gently. Jo's eyes darkened with her need for him, her lips parted as she drew in a few shallow breaths. But she did not pull her hand free or otherwise object. She was enjoying that ticklish, sensual feeling of having his thumb rubbing her satin skin all too much. Was it just her imagination, or had he leaned in closer to her? Or perhaps she was the one that moved first... either way, she could almost feel his breathing mingle with her own as she struggled to concentrate on his words.<br/><br/>A strangled sound in the form of a giggle came from the young female when she heard how he had played her father in terms of payment. No doubt it had pissed the older man off to no end, and it surprised her that Wade had managed to get away with it in the first place. It only showed his resolve and bravery... However, her musings were swiftly coming to an end when her gaze locked with Wade's again.<br/><br/>"What-"<br/><br/>She licked her lips slowly, swallowed nervously as she leaned even closer to him. Dangerously so, until there were only a couple of inches separating their lips. Her breathing was getting ragged as she struggled with forming her words as her eyes continued straying towards his mouth. Jo couldn't believe this was happening, but she didn't want to stop.<br/><br/>"What's important to you...? What is it you really want?"<br/><br/>She whispered while taking his other hand in hers, shyly stroking her palm up his strong arm while gazing at him through her long lashes. Every fiber in her body was screaming for a kiss, for him to embrace her and claim her as his own, but she was too well behaved to actually take that last step towards such a forbidden act. Perhaps, he did not even wish to endanger himself so, by claiming the lips of Hank's daughter. But he had not shied away from her yet, and even if she was not well versed in the relationship between a man and a woman, she thought she could read the same burning desire she was experiencing in his eyes.