When the West was Wild! (Closed)

[Armphid]

Her proud acknowledgment of her ravishing him made him smile sheepishly, a blue on his cheeks. How was this tiny slip of a girl making him feel like a virgin schoolboy with an Amazon? That boldness she had, maybe, or the sheer openness of her desire. Either way, he liked it. Even if he was a little annoyed with himself. He was a man, not a boy, damn it! But this was a part of life he was always careful and gentle with, ever since Mireille first taught him all those years ago. So maybe it made sense after all.

It was partly that long ago night lesson that made him want to touch her scars, to acknowledge and praise every part of her, if only with his touch. He felt her stiffen and then relax after a moment or two. It made his heart ache. The next time, he'd have to rub her shoulders good, maybe even kiss those nasty stripes. She didn't want to be reminded and he didn't blame her. It was important to him though that she knew he liked all of her; that those scars were pretty to him 'cause they were part of Lisabeth Green. Assuming there was a next time. It was entirely possible he'd wake up tomorrow and she'd be gone; maybe leaving a letter or a crude drawing behind. But he didn't think so. And he sure hoped not.

There was something different in that fierce, hungry kiss as her fingers slid through his hair. A silent statement of intent that had his heart pounding. Her little kisses and bites at him mere prologue before she raised herself up, her hips poised over his. "God in Heaven, Lisabeth," he breathed. The sight of her now...he'd remember this all his life. A sharp inhalation caught in his throat as her little hand swirled over his manhood and held him until their place of union came into contact. His hands moved to her thighs, his fingers on both her satin skin and the luxurious silk stockings. He didn't pull or guide or exert any force; he just wanted one more place where they touched. His eyes met her aqua stars. His lips parted just so in his flushed face, framed by his disheveled hair.

She came down and his thoughts were blasted away in sensation. A sound burst from him; wordless and something between a cuss and a prayer. She was so warm, hot, around him and fit as snugly as a tailored glove. His hands tightened and twitched on her thighs. His eyes fluttered seeing her and seeing past her all at once. His face was stunned wonder so awash in pleasure he was almost lost to it.

Sam tried to steady his breathing as she shifted and moved experimentally on him, seeking he didn't know what. Lord. Lord, he'd never felt like this with a woman. Whether it was her size or the growing connection between them or some innate quality to her, the little outlaw was raking his body with starting pleasure with every move she made. His breathing wasn't as stable as he'd like, coming in rapid bursts. He looked up at her, helpless and dazed adoration on his face.

Oh, but she was just getting started! The wily outlaw braced herself and then- God! And then she began to ride him like she was breaking a stallion. Wasn't she? She was sliding up and at a furious pace, her talented sex somehow squeezing him, milking him like a bull out for stud. "Lis-! Huh! F-fuck!" She'd never heard him say that word, even at his worst swearing. She'd pulled it out of him, wrenched his decorum aside with her carnal strength. "Fucking, hnn, suh-so," He couldn't speak, couldn't express any of the feelings, the desire, the want that roiled through him along with the blistering delight. Ravish and ravage him, she did.

Sam trembled under her, almost writhing. His hands slipped from her to reach out and clutch feverishly at the blankets on either side of them, twisting them about. His toes curled and uncurled. There was sweat on his brow and his hair was starting to darken from it. He could hear Mirielle's admonition in the back if his mind, his promise to her. He strained his will, breathy gasps, near whimpers and growls escaping him as he tried to keep together, to hold on in the flood waters of pleasure she'd sent crashing on him. His eyes screwed shut as he felt his guts tighten, tighten, tighten!

His eyes snapped open so wide they almost bugged out of his head. His back arched and his whole body jerked as he broke under her hard ride. His mouth fell open but he had no idea what words and sounds tumbled from his lips. A year and more's worth of control and repression erupted from him. He poured up into her, his whole self it felt like, his cock quaking inside her as he emptied himself into her, for her. It felt like she drew out his breath, his anima into her and after those soul scorching seconds of bliss, he thumped back down onto the bed like a rag doll. His chest still moved but he stared without really seeing, his mind and body feeling as diffused as a fog bank. His limbs were heavy, like the bones were gold, and his glorious, sense drenched weakness could barely stir them.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

His expressions were so…genuine. There was no smug amusement here, no arrogant entitlement. No power game or hidden motive, no attempt to control her with himself, even if she was doing exactly that, but for him, with him.

Just Sam, exactly what he seemed and just...Sam was so.... What was Sam like? Hadn’t that been the point, finding out? She couldn’t find the words to describe him, but that face-like she was just the best thing he’d ever seen.

Like she maybe wasn’t so bad, after all.

She was driving him out of his mind and it was deliciously satisfying, the way his eyes had widened like that, how he’d gone from dazed, almost unbelieving bliss to red faced, mindless passion-raw and wild instinct as he tried to say her name but couldn’t find enough syllables, as he cursed- all politeness forgotten now, lost in what she was doing to him, making him feel. God, his expression- she felt like she couldn’t quite catch her breath, something like a shiver building at the nape of her neck, a very real sense of urgency and rising need overtaking what had been the game of stealing Sam. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to help it. But he was trying to hold onto himself, claw back some sanity, she thought-and she wouldn’t let him. Lisabeth was as focused a predator as there ever was-she was going to win this game, she was going to make him hers.

And then he was. His eyes snapped open and his entire body went taut, her knees briefly lifted off the bed and their hips crashing back together as he bucked up with an arch of his back-a sudden rushing heat that was, was too hot, almost painful in what had already been tight confines, her hands back on his front, curled into small fists against him-and he lost himself to her, in her, falling back into the bed without a lick of sense or energy left to him.

He was beautiful.

Lisabeth was still out of breath and feeling hot, crazy-but he was beautiful, and even that flitting attention span of hers couldn’t be distracted by anything else, right then. She studied him a long moment, then leaned forward and kissed his chest, shifting with a small sound of discomfort to leave him, to crawl up a little higher to kiss his face, not like before-not the wild, hot, peppering kisses-but soft, gentle presses of her lips to his skin, slow and trailing until she was curled up next to him with one of her delicate hands on his chest, the little lady sweet and soft and content.

Hopefully she hadn’t gone and killed him, or rendered him permanently catatonic. A good heist. The best heist. He’d remember her forever, now.

Hell. She’d remember him too, not that she was fixin' to forget in the first place.

 

[Armphid]

Sam floated for a time; aware of his surroundings but somewhat numb to them. He was aware of the bed beneath him.but he could really feel it's soft give. He was aware of the faint night breeze coming in through the window but neither felt cool nor smelled the scents it brought in. All his attention and focus was still wrapped in either processing the mind blowing ravishing he'd just been given or in still clinging to it. The sensitive awareness of still being inside the pixyish, angelic devil woman who'd so thoroughly taken him. Her smell, their mingled sexual scent was all that his nose took in. The little sounds he wasn't sure she was aware of filled his ears. The trembling of her small fists slowly unclenching and resting on his chest was the only real touch in the world. Her eyes looked down st him, studying him with...interest? Curiosity? There was triumph in her expression to be sure but a lot more was going on behind those aqua eyes.

He groaned as she moved and they came apart. There was an immediate pang of want that he knew would endure. That would endure well beyond now; years from now, if he lived, there would still be a part of him that would always want Lisabeth Green.

Lord. She'd stolen part of him away, hadn't she? The ultimate theft of the little outlaw. God damn and bless her. What did that make him now? Was he less whole or more? Had she given anything, other than the best sex of his life, in return for that piece of himself?

He closed his eyes as she crawled back up him, the touch that had burned was now soothing, comforting. She curled up next to him, content and soft and warm. The touch and feel of her was so sweet after her conquest of him. But why wouldn't she be? She'd won, clearly. Did that mean he'd lost? He had; she'd broken him. His speech, his will, his courtesy...she'd wiped it all away.

How...did he feel about that?

Didn't that also mean she'd seen him somehow? The real him. And she was still here. Curled up against him rather than out the door. His eyes stung suddenly st that but he blinked the would be tears away. Must have gotten something in his eye.

Sam lifted his arm from under her to instead go around her, his hand coming to rest on the swell of her hip. He felt like he should say something but he had no idea what. Instead, he just hugged her close and turned his head to press a light kiss to her sweet lips.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Her heart had been fast, faster than fast-but had calmed, slowing down almost alongside his coming down from his high. She thought about...not much, kinda. The difference between Sam and Lydia, maybe. How different...this had been, and not just because, well, he was a fella.

She was afraid to go after her. She liked the idea of this bounty hunter game, a new adventure, exciting and better than being Sal-someone she was feeling less and less good about all the time. But tracking after Lydia, going to that farmhouse-that wasn't part of it. That was no game, not even to Lisabeth, where everything was a game.

What would she do if...if? She was faster than Lydia. Not by much, but she was. The leggy outlaw would never admit it, probably not even to herself-but she had taught Lisabeth just a little too well, a little too much. And even if not...if not 'if'. Sam wanted her to hang. How...did she feel about that, truly? She had loved Lydia. She had adored Lydia. But that...that Lydia wasn't real. Hadn't ever been real. Like Sal.

Lisabeth hadn't known Cal. But if Cal was anything like Sam...no one deserved to die, but if he was, he had deserved it even less. And he'd had a little girl too, Rosie? Lisabeth had grown up without her mother, but maybe that was a bit easier, having never known her. She couldn't imagine if her Pa had died, young or...or even now.

She should send him a letter. He was probably heartsick. He maybe up and stopped loving her one day, but...

Lydia. What did Lydia know about Sam? Just what she'd seen in Tanner's Lode, hopefully? She most likely had no idea about his ghost. She'd killed before, would kill again. Hurting people. She liked to hurt people. And she'd hurt her again, she ever got caught. It didn't seem like a good idea to go wading on home to her. Especially not if Lydia suspected...thought Sam might...matter...to...

...God she might prefer the whip.

He stirred and her jumble of thoughts vanished into nothingness as his arm came up around her, opposite hand on her hip, pulling her close and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Her heart did an odd little flip-pressed into him, having won, having stolen him-but then here he was all soft and...

"Boy, sure hope no one goes "assuming" anything." She said, a bit of that mischievous smile, that energetic, cheerful, joking voice-the outlaw was so bad! But it was also softer, somehow, almost...a cover? The hand on his chest had moved to carefully trace over his ribs, to his back, tracing little soft circles absently. She felt a little conflicted, and she wasn't sure why. Hesitant, all of a sudden, which made no sense, cause hadn't she just-

Too much thinking, again. He seemed to have that affect on her.

Pressed against him like this, her corseted chest into his lean muscled one, tangled all together and-boy, it sure was hot in here.

 

[Armphid]

That brat! Sam's hand shifted to her pert bubble butt and pinched her ass, not hard, just a little tweak. "Wanted to do that since we met." Pinch her ass or have her ride him to glory? Maybe both? "Fact is, Lisabeth Green, right now...folk can assume whatever the hell they want." And he didn't know what to say then so he kissed her again, with all the belated emotion of all those times since the ambush that first night that he'd noticed how sweetly tempting her lips were but pushed the thought aside.

He ought to maybe feel bad. A lot of men would have felt reduced after having been in the usual feminine role in sex. He just felt...right with the world. Mostly. There was a pang in his chest and an awareness in his mind that things had changed. He had changed. But she hadn't. That bothered him a mite. Just a mite.

"It's a good thing we're partners now," he said softly against her lips. "I've...never had something like that and mighty great it was but all the same...I feel like ya stole something of me. And I reckon I'm sticking with you until I get something back." Was that too much? Maybe she'd melted his brains. "So. Don't you dare leave me now."

Part of him was afraid she would. That he'd wake alone and she'd be off to Mexico or Canada or Brazil or something. That this, that him and his heart, were just another game.

His heart? Lord, what a fool thing to think on. Like he was a love struck school boy. Which he was not. In no way.

Keep thinkin' it and maybe he could fool himself enough to believe it.

He kissed her chin, then down her neck. So fine a woman even so small! His hand on her hip slipped to her thigh, stroking through the fabric of the stocking. "But it's a matter of pride and honor to me, that any woman I lie with gets as good as she gives me or more. Don't right know if I can deliver that. You made the world shake. But I aim to try if you're willing."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

An outraged oath and a scowl, but all in fun-her narrowed eyes shifting to a triumphant, pleased expression. "That's the way." She said approvingly before he kissed her again, Lisabeth giving another nip to his lip when she broke it to finish. "I ain't never cared what anybody thought or assumed. I'm free." And now, even if just for a minute-he was too.

Her heart felt warm at that.

Michevious smile when he he recognized her heist for what it was. He was right-she had. "Hard to steal from an outlaw, Sam." She said in that dangerous, sensual way of hers, her hand trailing along his arm and to his face again, thinking. She didn't want to get too ahead of herself-every time she was happy...

"And I'm a pretty good one." She said, dismissing the thought and letting that grin curve her lips.

He didn't want her to up and disappear on him. Lisabeth didn't think she was going anywhere. They were partners! She was a bounty hunter now! They could make a good team, go on adventures all the day long!

She was excited to do something different, excited to be out here even if she had lost her gang, excited to be...to-well, Sam was pretty great, she liked him, he made her curious and he was more interesting than anybody she'd ever met. They were friends now. And now she'd stolen him. Seen him.

"Bet I'll be an even better bounty hunter, you teach me the ropes." Her eyes lit up and were bright with that buoyant energy of hers, that...vitality, life and spirit the tiny slip of a woman seemed to be so full with. Her tone and the way she said that was almost...conspiratorial, like they were in on something together, the crazy woman drawing him into her game, and yet playing it with him, alongside him rather than him being a piece in it somewhere, something for her to get distracted from in a hot second.

Sure, this had been a separate, different thing from that partnership-but she liked him. More ways than one, and why not have fun? Play all the games. Outside and inside. Upstairs and downstairs. He was always a good sport about them, even if he was sometimes the hapless victim of her tricks himself.

He was so genuine, all those reactions. Teasing him was great. This had been pretty great. Adventuring would be great. She wasn't sure there was much else to be doing for fun, really. And if he up and decided she wasn't a decent partner anymore-well, she supposed she'd see it coming, instead of a sudden, stomach aching surprise sprung on her out of nowhere.

Hopefully.

His lips moved down the soft, sensitive skin of her neck, warm, strong but gentle hand running fingers over her stocking'd leg. Well hold up a minute- "I got plenty." Lisabeth said stubbornly, feeling that bit of uncertainty again, she wasn't sure...wasn't sure why.

Her skin tingled, jumbled thoughts all about Sam now, what she'd just done to him, his reactions, his expressions-whoa whoa whoa, what was she doing? She had won already. She'd stolen him. It was time to sleep or...or something now, lest things get too dangerous.

"You made the world shake."

"I'm good at all kinds of things." She said teasingly-he was warm. He was warm and safe and it probably, she could maybe-they could-hrm. "I got what I wanted, I'm not sure...about...no "equal" gets and got in bed, Sam." Softer, less sure tone.

She didn't really like to gamble, and with Lydia-well, who had had the power there? Sure hadn't been Lisabeth herself, and look what had happened. As things stood, she'd won, and he'd had a good time and she'd had fun doing it to him. Her fingers had moved from his face into his hair when he moved down along her throat, her heart a little fast again. "Matter of fact, I've half a mind to be insulted you ain't exhausted." That normal feisty voice again.

 

[Armphid]

Dealing with Lisabeth Green had more ups and downs than a stage going over the Rockies. But at least the stage he understood. She bounced back and forth so much just now; seductive, normal teasing, shy, enthusiastic about something totally different, unsure, then back to that normal teasing tone. It was enough to make a man's head spin.

But he could tell one thing out of all of her scattershot mood over the last ten seconds. The most key words and phrases all pointed out that she wasn't comfortable with more tonight. She'd gotten what she wanted and that was that. Didn't know about being equal in getting and giving.

Sam's hand stilled in it's slow petting and he lifted his head, looking down on the tiny woman. Lord, what a beauty. She'd given him the best sex of his life. And was lying with him now, all dolled up, dressed like a dream, for him. So why did he feel...used all of a sudden. Like that virgin in the penny dreadful when she realizes the outlaw wasn't going to marry her or stick around. That it wasn't to her what it had been to him.

He smiled though, despite that sudden misgiving. "Is that a fact? Well." He lay back on the bed and let out a breath. "Now that you mention it...with the hot blood fading, I'm feeling mighty tired," he lied to her for the first time. "I reckon you done wore me out."

Sam didn't want her to feel his disquiet, since he didn't understand the source himself. And it had been amazing. "Think I'm going to sleep better than I have in years," he said, and meant it. He pulled her to him snugly, letting out a happy sigh at the feel of her petite perfection against him, and closed his eyes.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Lisabeth visibly relaxed, releasing the tension in her shoulders she hadn't even realized had been there.

She felt bad. She wasn't sure why. Like she had maybe disappointed him, somehow? No, no, he was just tired, she had worn him out, she must have. He had just been trying to be nice. But she hadn't been sure she had wanted him to be nice. That...didn't seem like a good idea.

Was she scared of Sam? Of...what? Scared of wanting him around maybe? She didn't need Sam, or anybody for that matter. No, she wasn't scared of Sam. She wasn't scared of anything, had no reason to be scared of anything.

Nope. Not her. Not Sal.

...except she wasn't Sal at all, she was just Lisabeth. It'd been a long time since she'd been with Lydia-she wasn't sure she could do anything like that anymore. Like maybe she had forgotten. Or maybe...maybe she just knew better, was too smart for that now.

She was glad he was settled in and thinking on sleep now-she didn't have to talk at him anymore, be dumb. He drew her in and she felt a little better, more assured he wasn't disappointed, after all-which was good, because as much fun as stealing him had been-she had wanted to please him, wanted to make him feel.

She cuddled into him because he was so warm and nice and liked her, feeling...good despite all that thinkin' she kept doing, worrying.

Tomorrow she was going to go hang out with Nellie and try not to think too much. If she weren't a bounty hunter now, she might've gone and robbed the bank by herself just to STOP thinking so much.

"Sam?" There it was again, that soft, vulnerable little voice in the quiet. "Thanks for letting me stay in here. With...with you."


////////////////////////////////////////////////

For once, she wasn't up and awake long before him-but carelessly sprawled out in sleep on her back. She'd either wake up a bit after him or near the same time, her brow furrowing, eyes closing a little tighter-before she yawned, stretching her arms and legs out like a cat, making a soft noise of contentment when she relaxed again. Her eyes popped opened, not part way or groggy but full on awake, the petite dream in her desert rose dotted corset and black stockings hopping up onto all fours, one of the red ribboned bows partially undone on her silky thigh.

She'd grin at him if he was looking at her. "Mornin'!" She greeted brightly, turning to plop down on the edge of the bed, retying the bow on her stocking-but yet loosening the lacing to her corset, pulling it up and over her head-briefly revealing the ugly, crisscrossing scars Lydia had lashed into the tiny woman's back-before all that dark long hair tumbled back over them again.

Jesus. That must have been...just an awful time. There was no pattern to them-in fact, a lot of them laced back over each other, as if Lydia had lost her damned mind on the girl, lashing until the soft skin was an ugly mess of blood and flayed skin. Lisabeth had said she had laughed during it. Hysterically perhaps? How long of an ordeal had that been for the outlaw?

But that had been far and away from the here and now-she was just bright and ready to be up for another day of fun, it seemed. She plucked up her shirt and slipped into it, started to button it on up over nothing. She was small enough to get away with it. "Whatcha gonna to do today? Read yer book?" She asked companionably. Lisabeth wasn't sure what, if any, trouble she'd get into around here. She was going to treat Nellie up real nice for sure, and other than that...she wasn't sure what she'd be up to.

 

[Armphid]

For once, he was awake before the little spitfire. She was sprawled out in a fashion most would consider disgraceful but that he found endearing. Seeing her sleep, her face was different. No less lovely, asleep or awake, but different. Clearer, somehow though that thought didn't make much sense even to him. But he had a feeling like this was the closest he'd gotten to seeing the real Lisabeth Green.

Or would ever get, probably. She'd shut the door on them really drawing close pretty firmly last night. Not hard but for. It still rankled, made him feel dirty. Like...well, apropos of their current abode, like a whore. She'd used him, made him open and break, taken a piece of him and that was it. There'd be no exchange. Just taking. She was an outlaw at heart...and she'd robbed him of part of his. He'd never get it back. And she wasn't about to offer hers to him. Not when she'd gotten what she wanted.

And she'd rode him to glory. The best climax he'd ever had. He'd heard angels sing.

Why wasn't that enough? Why did it feel cheap now?

Sam noted her brow moving and sighed with a sad smile. The peace of the morning was about to be shattered. But he was kind of looking forward to it. Sam leaned away and sat up on the bed to watch her. What a fine sight she was, springing around like a happy kitten. "Morning," he answered her. His eyes stayed with her, admiring, yes, but also studying her. His eyes narrowed and he winced at the sight of her marred back. Damn. All the way up and down. The poor girl.

Now he felt guilty for feeling disgruntled about last night. Typical for Sam. Can't win for losing.

"Well, I can think of a number of ways to start the day off right but you're already getting dressed." He was glad he'd gotten to see her topless. Her chest was small but deliciously pert and shaped. Sam stood up from the bed, "I'll start by bein' decedent and taking another bath. I like water." Sam found his trousers and pulled them on, "After that, sherriff's office to see about any new bounties, check the telegram for any messages, then hit saloons to see who and what folk are talkin' about. A lot of bounty hunting is talking to folks."

He picked up his shirt, "Care go join me or you want t' cool yer heels here?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

“And I can think of lots of way to end ‘em right, too.” She said with a laugh but none of the low toned danger to it, distracted by dressing, by what she might do today. She stepped back into the pantalettes, pausing to watch him a minute, the muscles of his back as he bent for his shirt.

A shake of her head as she retrieved and slipped back into the split skirt, buttoning it up and tightening it to her waist with her belt. She listened to his planned activities, nodding along-it all sounded a little boring, but she wouldn’t say that. Cept the saloons, but she probably wouldn’t blend in very well there. She didn’t exactly want to be seen all over town. Maybe when they were further away from Tanner’s Lode.

She plopped her hat back on her head, where it sat crookedly as she slipped into those little ladylike boots of hers-the corset still abandoned where she’d dropped it and the star gleaming in the light. Lastly she picked up her gun belt, was drawing it around her hips as she moved around the bed, considering the question with a tip of her head. She wanted to try and write a letter. At least one to the mining company, before someone else found that silver out in the desert. It’d probably take her a minute, given how hard it was to sit down for any length of time.

Longer than a minute if she really tried to write her poor pa. But she didn’t want to say any of that, either.

“If you need crazy stories spun and rumors started, I’m your gal Sam. But I’m only really good at bullshittin’, not listenin’.” She fastened the gun belt, checking that her pistol was holstered proper before looking up at him. “Figure I’ll go for a ride ‘fore I get too restless, take care of Nellie real nice, if you think you got it handled.” She seemed to consider him a moment. “You need company though, I’ll be around.”

A wink-and then she sort of hesitated, a brief frowned dimming her features. “You be careful though, keep yer eyes peeled. I don’t know what got Lydia started up again, but...”

She shrugged, a shake of her head. Sam could take care of himself for a trip to town, for God’s sake. He didn’t need no fussing.

"...well, she's looking for me, not you, I guess, unless she went home." That would be a way to contribute, actually- "I'll draw us up a map for that homestead of hers."

And then she brightened back up, a dazzling smile as she started towards the door. "I’ll see you later cowpoke! Look out for them nuns and priests!”

 

[Armphid]

Sam smiled as he watched her go. How long before she got tired of him and moved on? Probably not until after he'd settled the law's business with Lydia Love. But once that was fine...she'd be gone.

Damn him for being such a melancholy soul. Even if it was likely so, there was no point mourning it now. They still both had to survive first. And he was aware that he hadn't gone after any outlaw more dangerous than the leggy sadist.

He sighed a pulled on yesterday's socks and then his boots, "No point loafin'. Sam. She ain't getting any more caught with you sitting here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Miller's Junction was a busy enough town, especially considering the rail. Plenty of folks were coming and going. It was a good place to pick up rumors or a trail. That made it a bit double edge as he didn't want to pick up a tail. Lisabeth seemed sure Lydia would be after her and he didn't doubt it. Sending someone here to keep lookout would be a smart move.

So after an unproductive visit to the sheriff, well not totally. He'd gotten a cup of coffee out of it. But it was time to hit the saloons. Sam spent the next severs hours between the two in town; slowly drinking beer, chatting up the saloon girls and bartenders, and listening to what the patrons were talking about. Not too much worth remembering. There was rumor that there was a small warband out from one of the Indian tribes but no one could agree on which one. Seemed they were looking for someone in particular. He'd have to be mindful of that; could be the tribe of those braves who'd tried to ambush him and Lisabeth.

It felt...odd to think of her that way. He almost felt like it should still be Miss Green to him, the way she'd purposely put space between them after their intimacy. He really had to stop thinking about that.

But there was one thing he noticed. There was a man in the second saloon, The Last Sand Break, that he recognized. Real fair skin, thin lips, pale blond hair, dead brown eyes, with a thin mustache and a scar on the right side of his chin. You learned to memorize and study faces hunting bounties. He'd seen this fella before. And he was pretty sure it was back in Tanner's Lode, riding alongside Lydia. The man was near the door of the saloon and while he noticed the men, he was really watching any woman who walked by the place.

That about sealed it in his mind.

Sam slipped the bartender a nickel to find out what he was staying and to forget that he'd asked. Then he headed back to the Rose Garden. Better let Miss Green know what was afoot.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Lisabeth was half the way down the stairs and nearly out the door, quick as a wink-when Mrs. Matthers stepped out from a side room and smiled at her. “Ah, Miss Elisabeth-” The graceful woman greeted, a warm smile. “Are you free for that tea and talk?”

Lisabeth had sort of...frozen mid bouncy step, one of her small hands on the knob to the door. Tea? She didn’t want to sit inside and drink stuffy tea! It was a beautiful day, she had to get her horse and go for a ride! And hey, she hated being called that! Not even her real name, but she supposed Lisabeth weren’t real common of one, neither.

Would hardly be polite, running out on the madame. And she was Sam’s friend, and Lisabeth didn’t want to go embarrassing Sam-well, she did, just not to other people. And definitely not when she couldn’t see him color over it. “I...I guess I am, ma’am, thank you.”

Now she had to remember her manners, damn it all.

Reluctantly taking her hand off the door and casting a wistful glance out into the bright sunshine, Lisabeth straightened her hat and followed after the taller woman and into a neat, classy parlor, the tea already set up on a silver tray on the small center table. She felt a little anxious, truth be told. She’d grown up with her father and no real ladies around to speak of, until he had hired one to teach her proper “women’s duties”-but by then it had been too late to feel comfortable around ‘em, she’d been fourteen.

Miss Rachel made a sweeping gesture for Lisabeth to sit in one of the matching upholstered cushioned chairs, tucking herself into one herself, leaning forward to pour tea. She was graceful and so very ladylike. Lisabeth felt a little clumsy in comparison, and made a concerted effort not to fidget when she did sit-literally tucking her hands under her legs to sit on them.

“Thank you.” She made sure to say when offered the delicate cup-holding it in her hands and feeling...weird. She had never actually taken tea with anybody. Drank around a card table quite a bit, had coffee with her father-but never tea, and never with a lady like Miss Rachel. She felt a little tongue tied, which was weird-but she couldn’t keep quiet for very long, that was for sure.

“Your house is lovely.” Lisabeth complemented cheerfully, deciding to just-well, she could only pretend so hard to be a lady, really-so she’d just try to be good and normal but...not stiff. “Your girls all seem to like you, too. And uh, well, you being Sam’s friend I imagine that makes sense. That you’d be nice, and all.” She’d only ever been in one other place like this, and that madame had been mean.

“Thank you, Elisabeth. I’ve worked hard to establish myself. So. Tell me about yourself-it’s always of great interest to me, women making it on their own out here.”

Lisabeth stalled, drinking the tea that was still much too hot-and trying not to grimace at it. Blech! It was worse than coffee! At least coffee was bitter and made her feel something-this was just like...slightly flavored, dirty lake water. She had no idea what to tell her. Didn’t want to shock her, or make Sam look bad somehow-he was a bounty hunter and traveling with an outlaw might embarrass him. Not that Sam could probably ever look too bad, polite and gentlemanly as he was.

She lowered the cup and to the little plate, remembered, belatedly, she shouldn’t be wearing her hat indoors. She took it off and saw the glint of her star winking at her as she set it on the arm of the chair. She’d stolen badge, but now she thought it more as a present from Sam.

“Yes. Me. I’m from Illinois. Farmin’. I came out three years ago, or so.” She said slowly, safe enough information to give, she suspected. “Nellie and me both.”

Miss Rachel continued to smile at her, patiently waiting for more.

“Er. I can shoot and ride pretty good, and made a living with that, previously.”

“Oh?”

Lisabeth wasn’t any goddamned good at this. She set the cup down, deciding that, even for Sam, she couldn’t quite pull this off. “Well, sure. You know, races and stuff. I bet I could do really well hustling the pants offa folks, if I wasn’t bounty hunting and all.”

“Well, of course.” The red haired woman said agreeably. Lisabeth didn’t squirm, but she felt uncomfortable in the companionable silence.

“You know, I was a madame once.” She started suddenly, before really considering if that was a good story to tell or not. She wasn’t going to sit here doing all this thinking-she’d done enough thinking the past week or so to last her for months. Miss Rachel’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yes’m. I bought an entire bordello out from under this madame-she’d been in with a loan shark, ya see. So I paid him off and then I owned her debt. But she wasn’t like you, ma’am. She was real mean, and the place wasn’t as nice. Abused her girls. So I had bought it and dressed all the girls in silk and finery-and the town’s sheriff was real hot after that, ‘cause he didn’t like them there in the first place, and definitely didn’t like them dressing respectable and doing what they liked, owning their own house and all.”

Lisabeth gestured to herself. “I threw her out, but then they put her to work cleaning the place, which was even funnier. So that’s how I became the proprietor of a house like that, once, ‘fore I gave it to the ladies living in it. I ain’t got the mind or patience for accountin’ and record keepin’, after all.”

“My. Farmer, bounty hunter, madame, hustler-that’s a broad range of careers for one so young. I assume you are quite young, Miss Elizabeth?”

“25.” Lisabeth said instantly and with a straight face-but the other woman just lifted a single brow- and she found herself blurting out the truth despite herself, despite giving various answers over the past three years just for amusement and sometimes necessity. “I mean-19. I’m 19, ma’am.” She felt a bit of a flush, dropped her eyes to her fidgeting hands-which had snuck back to her lap without her knowing it. “Turn twenty in a few months, though. Which is...I mean, pretty close to 25…” She picked up her hat, fumbling with the star a little, her left small boot swinging a bit.

Luckily, Miss Rachel chuckled. “Don’t rush it, my dear. Time passes soon enough. How did you come to meet our Samuel?”

“How did you come to meet him?” Lisabeth returned curiously, without edge or rudeness-half because she did very much want to know, was curious-and also because she was not sure what she was going to say on that, just yet.

“My late husband and I posted a reward for a pair of gentlemen who had roughed up one of our girls. No one would take the job-but Samuel did, and he brought them in just as he would have for anyone else.”

Lisabeth thought about that, gave a nod. Yep, that sounded like him, alright. “He’s...he’s pretty good about seeing people as, ya know, people.” Lisabeth said. “Which uh, not everybody does, out there, for some reason.”

“And, he went through great pains and sacrifice to bring my husband’s murderer to justice. I will never not owe him for that-no one else would have helped me.”

“I’m sorry he was killed, ma’am.” Lisabeth said softly, honestly. “Ain’t nobody fit to end someone else like that, cut ‘em short. It’s...well, I wish it hadn’t happened, for what little that’s worth.”

“Thank you.” She said with a nod. “And you? How did you meet Sam?” She inquired again, and Lisabeth was caught now. She decided to go for broke. Miss Rachel seemed companionable enough-guess she’d just have to politely think her crazy too.

“Oh, he was working for a ghost and thought the ghost sent him after me.” Lisabeth said with a flippant, airy wave of her hand-but she was being tricky, mischievous amusement in her aquamarine eyes. She couldn’t ever help herself. “And then I locked him up while I was sheriff’ing a town, you know, as you do-and now we’re friends.”

To her surprise, Miss Rachel took that all in stride-which both disappointed and impressed the outlaw.

“And a sheriff as well? My, what an interesting life you’ve led out here, and in such a short time, Miss Elizabeth. So, what was Samuel’s crime? It’s not like him to run afoul of the law.”

Lisabeth couldn’t decide if it was funnier Miss Rachel was so calm and not reacting to her antics-or a little off putting. “His crime?” For once, nothing popped into her head to blurt out. She hesitated, her eyes on the star again, thinking for a moment, then two-and then sitting up straight in the chair, full of energy again.

“Why...kidnapping, of course!” Right! That was almost totally true! “He was a kidnapper, you see, for a time. Very grievous crime. He also...stole a horse! And we all know horse rustlin’ is very serious. I and my deputies locked him up for his own good, until that brief bit of...of temporary insanity left him.”

“I see! Well, it sounds like you certainly did him a favor.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Lisabeth was a hundred percent sure Miss Rachel knew she was full of it, but that kind of made it more funny. She figured Sam could tell her the truth if’n he wanted, later.

“And then I let him out on good behavior, after investigating a mystery theft of his things-which drove him to be so crazy and kidnappin’, you see. And he was so impressed with my sheriff’ing he asked me to be his partner, and now here we are, and here I go, because I just remembered I have an appointment to keep! Um, thank you for the tea.” Her fast talking excitement quieted for a moment at the end, and then she was plopping her hat back on her head and waltzing out the door, leaving mild amusement-and a small bit of puzzled confusion-in her wake.

As was usual, when one dealt with Lisabeth Green.

////////////////////////////////////

Lisabeth had been out darn near all day, once her talk with Miss Rachel had concluded. She’d gone to her room for an hour or so after a few minutes outside, but must have slipped out again when no one was paying attention. Her and Nellie were both gone-but one of her saddle bags was still upstairs in her room, along with a few personal items-hairbrush, some clothes, a bag of marbles partially drawn open on the still neatly made, unslept in bed. Little pieces of colorful glass spilling out of it, red and blue, green and yellow.

The light blue split skirt was folded lengthwise and laid across the foot of the bed, and her navy blue shirt with the pearl buttons was hanging off one of the posts. Could that be a bad sign?

She’d been writing something it seemed, if one glanced at the vanity. Her writing was a bit messy, cramped- but legible, good spelling and grammar. There was a letter for the Mining Company in Tanner’s Lode. The letter didn’t apologize, just let them know where they could find the silver she’d ‘borrowed’. Amusingly, she had signed it Six Gun Sal-with a little smoking revolver drawn underneath it, no bigger than the signature itself.

The other piece of paper barely had any writing on it. “Dear Pa,” it started-and then an ink splotch where someone had rested their fountain pen for too long underneath it. That led into little spirals and shapes along the edge of the paper, as if she’d gotten distracted and then given up, not knowing what to say. Sam's own name was scribbled on the border amidst the spirals once, along the right edge and smack in the middle, the only other written word on the paper.

There was also a map to a “Livingston Farmhouse” two territories away, towns used as distance markers along with a few odd landmarks, approximate times of travel between them and rough direction.

The sun went down and darkness settled over the town with still no sign of her. Least, she hadn’t come inside the house.

Were one to venture out to check back in at the stable though-

That same little song again. Girl and horse had returned-though only the painted mare’s back and tail were visible, her head down-and only Lisabeth’s ladylike, small button up ankle boots and the black pantlegs to her boy’s trousers were visible over the stall door-where she was hanging upside down, the top of the wooden door just behind and underneath her knees. Her ankles were crossed and her top boot bobbed absently, almost in tune to the song she was happily humming to herself.

Nellie’s saddle was over one side of the stall, Lisabeth’s six shooter balanced on top, the chamber popped open and empty of bullets. A bag of carrots hung from the pommel on the outside of the stall. Lastly, tipped over in front of the stall door where she’d probably dropped it-a bottle of amber colored liquid, corked and only partially full. Well.

Were one to swing the door open, they'd find the rest of the upside down outlaw, dressed like a boy again-but this time the white shirt was tucked in, and she wore black suspenders that, while ridiculous-somehow managed to make look adorable, on her.

Her hair was mostly braided again-seemed to be what her hands had been doing while she was upside like that.

Also rather noticeable-Chet’s mane had been neatly braided, little white flowers tucked into it and contrasting with his dark coloring. He looked mighty fine-if he had been a girl’s horse. Maybe that was the joke. Still, he looked content and had some carrots of his own in there.

 

[Armphid]

Well, she was gone.

Damn.

Damn!

Sam had returned from town to find her and Nellie gone. That was no great concern as she'd said she was going for a ride. So he'd had that bath and then read for a time on the front porch. And she didn't come back. And she didn't come back. Sam left the porch once the place opened for business, not wanting to spook any custom from the hard working women.

And she didn't come back.

Sam slipped upstairs, his mood darkening by the hour and went to her room. Maybe he'd missed her and she was...sleeping in there or something. And maybe he was fifteen feet tall and blue. None of the ladies or Johnny had said they saw her in or about the place since some time that morning. Lisabeth Green was as subtle as a thunderstorm in a glass factory. If she was here, her presence would be known.

He shouldn't go into a lady's room uninvited but...well, he did. What he saw made him almost certain she'd left. Her "girl" clothes discarded, the letter and attempted letter, and the map. She'd left the map behind so he could go after Lydia and settle matters for Cal and that was good. But her flightiness or fear had gotten the better of her. She might have even thought she was doing him a favor since Lydia's gang was looking for her.

Didn't feel like a favor. It felt like a kick in the teeth. It made last night both more touching and tawdry at once. She'd gotten what she wanted and lit out of town. Outlaw to the end.

Sam took the map, folding it up and slipping it into a pocket. He paused and picked up the unfinished, hell, barely started letter. His eyes rested on his own name, written in her hand. Not much of a love letter or momento. It'd have to do. He folded that as well and then left her room.

"Samuel, there you are." He paused at the threshold to Miss Green's room, shutting the door behind him. "Though I didn't expect to see you leaving a girl's room." Her smile warmed the teasing comment, "Why don't you come have dinner with me? Elizabeth can join us once she's decent."

"Beggin' your pardon, Mrs. Mathers, but I'm afraid I'm going to decline this evening." The bounty hunter shook his head, "I'm not feeling fit for company."

"Oh." Her eyes narrowed a hair but then returned to her normal warm inscrutability, "This has something to do with Elizabeth."

Sam sighed, "No trying to put it past you. She's gone. Got what she wanted and got while the gettin' was good."

Rachel stepped up and took Sam's arm, walking with the somewhat surprised ex-soldier to the closest sitting room. "That's quite a surprise. Given our tea earlier today, I hadn't expected her to leave. The girl lies outrageously but she's very charming."

"That she is," he acknowledged. "Just like a cat; charming, pretty, crazy, and not giving a damn what her actions do to anyone else," he added bitterly.

"Now that is unbecoming of you, Samuel." Rachel pointed for him to sit and he did do after a stunned moment. She took a seat herself. "Why do you think she's left? I'd be very surprised with your still here. Before she ran out of tea because of me, I'd gotten the impression she was very interested in you. She asked about how we'd met."

Sam smiled a little at that, "Did she?" Then he frowned again, "Maybe but she ain't been back all day. There's hardly nothing in her room and all but one of her saddlebags are gone. Her mare was gone earlier today too."

Rachel looked at him. "I think you're jumping to conclusions. She didn't arrive with much, do it's no surprise you didn't find a lot in her room. And if she went riding for a long time, it's quite sensible to take bags in case something were to happen." The redhead gave him a level look. "Why don't you give one more look around for her? I'm certain she hasn't left. Call it woman's intuition."

Sam wanted to say no. But the fact of the matter was that he couldn't deny Mrs. Mathers anything she asked for. "At your pleasure, Mrs. Mathers, as always."

"I suspect it may be to your pleasure," she responded with a sly smile.

Sam blushed and wisely retreated. He floated through the public spaces of the Rose Garden, listening more than looking. If he knew Lisabeth Green, he'd hear her before he saw her. He had no luck inside but decided he may as well look in the stables again. Maybe she'd ridden back while he was gone and decided on equine company over human.

As before and as expected, he heard her before he saw her. That song again. What was it? He'd have to remember to ask her. Sam walked into the stable and stopped just inside, gawking at Chet, "Tarnation, Chet, ain't you got pride? You were in the Army too." The horse tossed his head and whickered, "Yeah, she might be able to talk me into it too."

He walked up to where she was hanging and into the stall beside Nellie. Sam leaned on the wall and could help but smile at Lisabeth. "Well, you're the prettiest bat I ever did see, Miss, ah, Lis..." He licked his lips, not sure how to go on. "You gave me a bit of a scare. I half thought you might've ditched me an' headed for Mexico."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

“Lisabeth.” She provided cheerfully, before her eyes narrowed a little, a teasing grin. “Wouldn’t have thought you’d forget it, considerin’.” She let go of her partially braided hair and reached up to grasp the edge of the stall door, sitting up. The world spun a little. She half turned to smile at him. “‘Sides, sounds nice when you say it.” She hopped down, a stretch of her arms and back as she mosied back around the door to face him. She blinked at his words.

“Why would I go and do a thing like that?” She inquired with a frown, plucking the bottle of whiskey back on up from the floor. “Sal ain’t anybody I want to be, anymore. And you gave me the star-” She reached up to tap at the star he'd given back, the symbol of his trust-that...wasn’t there, because her hat wasn’t on her head.

Oh. Whoops. Nellie was still wearing it. Lisabeth was amused by this, idly looking it over before she shook her head with a soft smile. “I wouldn’t up and run on ya, us being partners and all.”

She uncorked the bottle and took a swig, then offered it out to him. “Don’t worry.” She said with a small grin. “I didn’t swipe it.” Indeed! She’d had enough of it, anyway. Probably. Sometimes she just kept drinking until she forgot where she’d left whatever it was she’d been hitting.

“You really thought I’d left?” She asked softly, a frown. She felt bothered by that, the fingers of her left hand sliding up one of the suspenders. Aquamarine eyes studied him a minute. Thought she’d ditched him. Maybe that wasn’t so farfetched sounding, but it didn’t make her feel very good that he had thought that. And before going after Lydia?

“Listen, this...this whole thing-I ain’t got no score to settle with Lydia. Ya understand? Nothing I’m fool enough to risk getting caught for.” She said her usual feisty tone. Fool enough for Sam though, she guessed-tromping on back for more ugly scars. Lisabeth shook her head, then poked him in the chest. “I’m going cause you’re going, and you said...you said we was partners, right? Not just to me, you said that to Mrs. Matthers.” A bit of anxious doubt a moment, but he HAD said that. Maybe he’d lie to placate her, but he wouldn’t lie to a nice lady like Mrs. Matthers.

Partners until he didn’t like her anymore, anyway.

“I like you Sam. You’re different, and I aim to figure you out, eventually.” She gave a curt nod, leaning back again, a little dizzy. “And I can’t rightly do that if you’re dead.”

What exactly was she going to do to prevent that though? Lisabeth was troubled by the thought. By all the thoughts she’d been having lately. She didn’t like it, all this thinking he made her do.

She realized she had been staring absently at him again. Lisabeth looked away. “You’ll get sick of me long ‘fore I get sick of you.” She muttered darkly, moving to slip her hat off Nellie’s head, lowered eyes on the winking star.

 

[Armphid]

Sam didn't interrupt her but let the little outlaw speak her piece. Only fair, after all, as he'd been jumping to conclusions, even if reasonable ones. And he had to admit she was looking pretty darling at the moment. Her drinking was something to keep an eye on. Might be nothing but drinking alone tended to be a sign one might have a bit of trouble with the bottle. He didn't think she did but it was something to be mindful of. Especially if she was doing it to dull her problems, much as she liked to pretend she was care free.

He took the offered bottle and removed the cork, taking a drink himself. It burned going down in the way a good whiskey did. Bought, borrowed, or stolen, it was good stuff. He kept his tongue until she slipped her hat off of Nellie's head, claiming he'd get tired of her before she of him. Sam chuckled, "Then I reckon we'll be together for quite some time. I don't believe a man could tire of you, get exasperated now and then, maybe. But I'd like to try and figure you out myself." Which would probably be a lifetime to make any headway and he probably still wouldn't have anything more than an educated guess.

He nodded slowly, "I was afraid you'd leave, that's why I thought you might've. Given you and Nellie were gone so long and no one had seen you back...well. I knew ya weren't fixin' to have anything to do with that leggy varmint too. It stood to reason."

Then Sam sighed and leaned against the wall of the stall. "Fact is too, I was afraid you were gone 'cause you'd got whatever it was you wanted from me. Last night...hell, I hate talkin' about this kinda thing." He was blushing and he knew it. Damn it! "It was after, after that...glory you put me through, breakin' me like that. Seein' me like no one ever has. It was...you were a miracle. And them after, well, you'd opened me up to be so close and then you put a wall between us. I might've been wrong. I ain't good at...personal things. But it felt like you'd taken what you wanted but that was it. There wasn't any real closeness other then what you'd allow and you weren't gonna allow. So...I guess I thought you were done with me. I'm happy to be wrong."

"And we are partners, Lisabeth. I mean it." Sam took another drink of the whiskey, "I guess maybe I jumped the gun, thought we'd be equal partners in more than just working together. Arrogant of me, I guess. That'll come in time if it does."

The tall bounty hunter then shook his head, "Well. We don't have to talk more about this now. I was thinking on taking a meal in my room and enjoying the night...in any way that came along, I guess. Maybe you'd like to uh, to...to come up with me? I, uh, I'd be mighty pleased to spend time with you, however it goes."

He really wasn't good at this kind of thing.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

He chuckled and spoke, but Lisabeth didn’t look convinced, still not looking at him as she donned the hat. She might’ve made a joke, normally. Or gotten mean and told him she weren’t no coward. Distracted ‘em both from any sort of serious talk. But she was in a mood now. She wasn’t sure why.

Because leaving did sound like something she’d do? Or would have done. As Sal. But just cause she’d been playing at being Sal when she had done so many bad things didn’t really absolve her from them, did it? Sam was temporarily forgettin’ about all that, it seemed like. Or he didn’t realize just how much trouble she’d gotten in?

Lisabeth wasn’t sure. Maybe him thinking she was pretty distracted him from it, for now. Still, ‘stood to reason’. Again, she got that sort of sick feeling, that suspicion she was a bad person. There wasn’t much going back on it now, even if she did go straight. Sam was good, but partnerin’ up with him didn’t make her good by extension.

She wasn’t sure anything ever would, if’n she was being honest. Least she hadn’t killed anybody, she guessed. Seemed like a pretty low bar though.

”Seein' me like no one ever has.”

“You were beautiful.” Lisabeth said, her eyes having shifted to him and his blush-before she blinked as if someone else had said that, spilled the beans on it-and scowled, her own face taking on a bit of color as her eyes dropped and she scowled some more at the floor, those quick little hands undoing and shaking out the braid she’d started. Put a wall up? What was-so he had been disappointed last night! Wasn’t it enough to have had fun? Hadn’t she given him something he wanted, or was that not a fair trade for what she’d stolen?

Well, she didn’t have to be fair. She was an outlaw, even if she was putting Sal aside. Or was that the mindset that made her so bad in the first dang place? Had she done him wrong somehow?

"And we are partners, Lisabeth. I mean it."

“Well, good.” She said dumbly, fumbling with her empty holster, looking relieved.

“...thought we’d equal partners in more than just working together.”

“Them two things’re separate.” She said slowly, uncertainly. She wouldn’t accept anything less than equal in the working partnership-she’d run her own gang, she wasn’t going to take on a boss. Not her style. And for...otherwise? What else did they have here? What else did she want? He thought they could...he wanted...

But could there be an ‘equal’ in something like that?

Lisabeth’s expression was conflicted, doubting-a small step back into the stall door, as if she was intent on retreating-a catch of her hand backwards on it to avoid tripping. He invited her up, said they didn’t have to talk more about it now. Which was good. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk about it at all, or think, or do anything but act on impulses as they sprang up on her. That’s what she did. That’s how she was.

So they could go on up and she would like that, she liked to spend time around with Sam. Maybe too much.

“I don’t want to trade away more’n I can afford, Sam.” She said anxiously, softly-despite her resolution NOT to talk about it, on this, on him, on things. She had loved Lydia. She had loved her, and look what had happened? She hadn’t...she hadn’t known any better, then.

She wasn’t sure she did now, either. “You...you saw what...you felt-” The ugly Lydia had left. The reminder. This wasn’t-she needed to make a joke, or tell a story, or lie about something, and quickly.

But the grin didn’t come, or the laugh, or the trouble making glint of her aquamarine eyes. She just looked at him, no bravado and no mask, the slip of a woman looking as young as she actually was-and relatively inexperienced with these sorts of things. And instead of blurting an outrageous thing, she murmured in that soft, vulnerable voice of hers, tinged sadness. “I...I don’t want to be anybody’s pet. Or...or be broken when you turn on me.”

He was so nice. He was so nice and good and calm and gentle, and she wanted all that, she did-he was so different, stoic and strong but with them soft spots, here and there. She hadn't even thought about anything like that since Lydia. Sam was special. But there was always that other shoe, even if she couldn’t figure out where he was hiding his-and eventually, it’d drop. And Lisabeth didn’t want to be caught under it when it did.

 

[Armphid]

Beautiful? Him? He didn't really know what to say about that. Nobody's called him that before, well, maybe Ma when he was small. Most men would be insulted at being called beautiful; their manhood insulted. He was too aware of and comfortable in himself for that. It was just confusing. What was there about him that she, that anyone, would find beautiful?

But he shook that thought away. What she was saying was a lot more important. At first, it seemed like what he thoughts. Her feelings just weren't like his and they weren't going to be. He'd have to live with that. Which he could, assuming there were more nights like the last in his future. Though there may not be anything of that kind again. Her muttered statement about partnerships being separate seemed to settle it. She didn't want that. He'd have to get over his stolen heart, which would probably break it a little in the process.

Well. Wouldn't be the first time at least.

She stepped back into the stall door, trying to retreat. Retreat from him. Damn, that...that hurt. That she felt she had to get away from him. But then it happened again. That soft vulnerable voice that was her real voice; her true thoughts. And his heart did break a little. It wasn't why he thought it would.

Before he could think that maybe he shouldn't do it, that closeness might not be what she wanted right now, Sam stepped forward to gather Lisabeth in his arms and pulled her to his chest in a fierce embrace. He cradled the little rebel close, accepting that she might try to thrash him for laying hands on her. But he'd risk it. Sam didn't speak for a minute before he said, "Lisabeth, I'm sorry. I hadn't thought about what happened. Got to be hard for you."

It hurt him too. That she thought he would or could do something like that to her. But wasn't he all about being cautious himself? Not when it came to her it seemed. "Forget what I said. Lord knows I open my mouth and put my foot in it."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

He had pulled her close after fun, last night, and he had returned her impulsive, crushing hug days and days ago-but this, this hug, fierce and comforting and caring-Lisabeth hadn’t expected it. She also hadn’t expected to need one so badly, but as soon as he drew her close she knew she had. If she weren’t careful, she was going to cry again.

Nobody had hugged her like this since she had been home. Lydia sure hadn’t. Lydia would have made fun of her, even before she had turned mean. Had to be tough. She was tough! And running a gang? Definitely couldn’t afford to be soft. Specially not as a woman running a gang.

But maybe, just maybe, when there were spots that were hard...maybe it would be okay, not to pretend. When she was alone, with Sam. He wasn’t even judging her, she realized. Hell, he didn’t expect anything out of her at all-there was no real part to play here, nothing she had to be sure and be for him. For now, anyway.

What if not ever? But she couldn’t see the future. How could she avoid making another mistake? Can’t get hit by the train if she weren’t ever on the tracks, right?

But...

Lisabeth shifted to wrap her arms tight around him, too. He made her do too much thinking. That might not be the worst thing-she had said it herself-had to grow up sometime, at least a little. Sam was worried she’d take off. Sam felt like she’d stolen something from him, and didn’t plan on giving anything back.

Maybe.

But he was also willing to wave it all away, and let things be. Nevermind what he wanted. Lisabeth’s fingers caught in his shirt against his back, fidgeting. She thought about how badly she had wanted to be friends. How much she hadn’t wanted him to hate her. How’d she got all his things back, made her new gang members think she was even crazier than rumored, all them fist fights. How she was going after Lydia with him, afraid he’d get his head shot off being polite or wouldn’t take her seriously enough ‘cause she was a woman.

She didn’t like the idea of Sam going anywhere near her. Maybe that said all it needed to right there.

“I...I rolled that stage coach just to roll the stage coach.” She started slowly against his chest, soft and a bit muffled, they were holding each other so close. “I held up banks jus’ to hold up banks.” Still that soft voice, though how that was related would be hard to figure until: “But I didn’t steal you just to steal you, Sam.” She quietly, quietly confessed. And she wasn’t partnering up just because of the promise for adventure. She pulled back but still didn’t look up at him, her hands coming around to be on his chest, smoothing over the material to his shirt.

“You said...you said we could have fun-” She frowned a little, her eyes finally flickering up to his. “A-and find what we’re like along the way.” Intent as she had been on stealing him, she had listened to what he said. Locked it away, along with his expressions, his reactions. She wouldn’t ever forget Sam Winfield, anymore he’d go and forget her.

“So…” A more genuine, less manic smile finally curved her lips. A rather pretty one. “Now that Chet and Nellie are all settled for the night, suspect my evening is rather open for spendin’ time upstairs...assuming there ain't any priests or nuns in attendance.” Aaaand a teasing joke. Seems she felt a bit better, now.

"Didja see Chet? I think Johnny went and did that." Ooooh that liar.

 

[Armphid]

There was surprising strength in those little arms of hers but he'd expected it. As much as he'd felt kind of a fool just standing there, hugging her in a horse stall, he'd also be damned it it wasn't the best he'd felt all day. Her flighty little fingers on his back almost made him laugh; couldn't even stay still long enough for this, could she?

Then she spoke and her words were so soft he barely heard them. But he did. He did and it made all the difference in the world. Maybe she wasn't going to exchange part of her for part of him anytime soon. Maybe not ever. But that little "I didn't steal you just to steal you, Sam" was the best thing he'd ever heard from a woman and it sung in his heart like she'd confessed rather more than that. And maybe in her own way she had. Either way it was enough for now. Quite likely enough for a long time.

He met her eyes, that little smile on his lips. How could she be so damn cute and sweet at times and then so devilish and irritating? The woman was a magic or something. And he...he liked it, didn't he? For all his grousing and grumbling. Of course he did. Of course it was fun.

Lord, he hoped she never figured out he felt that way. There'd be no living with her.

Wait, what did that thought mean? That he wanted to live with her?

Think on it later. Maybe much later.

"S'all right, Lisabeth," he answered her after she made her recurring joke about the priest and nun. "I saw 'em head up before I came out here, took a room together. What the world is comin' to these days, I tell ya."

His eyebrows rose, "Now I ain't fool enough fer that. That's Miss Jenny's doing, I'm sure." Of course it wasn't. He knew well enough. And she knew that he knew. But maybe it'd tickle her that he played along this time. "I'll have to give her a good spanking over it. 'Course Chet seems to like it...maybe it should be his new style. Terrible thing for a bounty hunter to have a dude horse though; crooks ain't never gonna take you serious and then it's work, work, work, all the time."

Sam stepped back and took up the bottle before offering her his arm, "Shall we, Lisabeth?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Lisabeth started to shake her head as if commiserating with him about the world-then thought better of it. “About time, they’d been after each other fer years.” She could have probably spun an entire lifetime for the imaginary pair in a blink, if she wanted. The outlaw had a good imagination. She snagged her empty six shooter and dropped it in her holster, a parting smile and pat to Nellie. "Don't talk too much now, girl, Chet needs his sleep."

She hooked her arm through his with a laugh. “Miss Jenny! I was teachin’ her to shoot yesterday! You shoulda seen her, practically a natural. Won a pistol and everything. If you don’t want to get shot, I suspect you better not spank her.” An embellishment or two for sure, but she’d probably get pretty good, if she practiced. “An’ I had tea-” That sounded weird just saying it. “With Miss Mathers. I told her about me arresting you for kidnapping. She said I did you a favor.” Mischief in those aquamarine eyes.

The rest of her day had been riding in the desert and treating Nellie to a nice long cantering stroll. That was about it, really. Lazy day for her, ending with decorating Chet, some whiskey, and carrots for all.

And now she'd hang out with Sam, and that'd end things right, she'd suspect. He brightened up some. She was glad.

 

[Armphid]

"That so? Well, I still can't let Chet's honor go unanswered. I hear some folks like that kind of thing too, so we'll see." The two were heading out of the stable and across the small courtyard to the rear door of the garden. "I did know about you teachin' her to shoot and winning the gun for her. Had a talk with Johnny about being a better man and how nit to act when you've got an interest in a woman." He looked down at Lisabeth, "Not sure I qualify for advice on that score, though. May be a doomed young love."

They were in the place now. It was a busy night but the two of them still drew a few looks. Men and women both came to the Garden but rarely did they arrive together. Those who knew Sam, mostly the girls working there, were also delighted and astonished to see him walking arm in arm with a young lady. A few tossed winks at them or murmured something congratulatory or salacious when they passed.

As they came to the stairs, Rachel approached them. She was in a daringly low cut dress of a rich green and smiled at the two, "Samuel, Elizabeth. We'll have to have a meal together tomorrow. I've had something sent to your room. I mean, rooms, of course." Her smile grew just a bit, "Have a good night. Elizabeth, make sure he behaves now."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Oh. Sam already knew about that. Did he know just how badly she'd embarrassed Johnny? Part of her kind of hoped not. At the same time, given how much fun he'd made, she didn't much care if it HAD been mean of her to embarrass him.

Shoulda kept his trap shut, trying to tell her she didn't know what she was doing.

"Wait, he LIKES her?" Was THAT why he was so insistent she was teaching wrong? This was a new consideration for Lisabeth. She seemed to think that over to herself.

It was funnier, then, that she'd embarrassed him. No wonder he'd gotten so red in the face! Served him right!

...but maybe she should tell Jenny it was actually pretty impressive he'd hit any of those marbles, let alone three of them even with twelve shots.

And oops, people were looking at them. Lisabeth felt vaguely embarrassed, for some reason-tucking in just a mite closer to Sam as they made their way through the crowd, to the stairs.

Miss Rachel met them there, smiling. She was teasing Sam, she was pretty sure-and Lisabeth was immensely amused by the end of it. She tipped her hat, the star glinting. "He's a handful but I'll try to keep my eye on him, Miss Mathers, don't you worry."

"Everybody likes you, Sam." Lisabeth commented, looking back over her shoulder as they climbed the stairs, curious. She could see why. Still, you wouldn't have known he was so popular by the way he acted, would you?

Also, Rachel had said room, then corrected with a smile. Did she know she'd been in there, last night? Lisabeth didn't much care if anybody did-she spent a good deal of time not caring what people thought-but Sam might've. Then again, he had walked them in here arm and arm.

Guess he wasn't embarrassed to be seen with her, if nothing else.

...that felt nice.

"What do ya suspect she sent up, anyhow?"

 

[Armphid]

"Here they do, I guess. It's one of three places I know I'll welcome, and it's a comfort to be here, no denying." Sam looked down at the diminutive beauty as they climbed the stairs, "You're catchin' on pretty good too. Mrs Mathers seems t' have taken a shine to you and Miss Jenny was talking you up all day, so the other girls tell me." He sighed, "But there are a lot of places where I ain't so welcome. Lot of folks think bounty hunters' are worse than outlaws and paid in blood money."

He shook his head, "No need for wool gathering on that, I guess." They had come to the door to his room, which he opened and for her. Like a gentleman, which might either amuse or annoy her. He wasn't about to pretend he could predict her mercurial moods. "Let's see what's waiting for us."

The little table in the room was cleared and a pair of covered trays was on it, along with silverware and four bottles of beer. Lifting the trays would reveal a nice piece of grilled flank steak, some smashed potatoes with gravy, bright green steamed peas and a pair of rolls on each tray. "Looks almost as good as it smells. Ya want to tuck in or rather talk or find some other amusement for a bit?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

One of three places….? Well, she’d just have to teach him to feel welcome ANY ole’ place. Didn’t matter if people wanted you there or NOT-wait, people were starting to like her too? Even with all that crazy she’d spouted off, earlier? Well, it hadn’t been the craziest of stories she’d ever told. There was truth mixed in more than usual, anyway.

Lisabeth seemed rather thoughtful on that, looking back up the stairs before his sigh sounded, drew her gaze upwards again. She frowned, then puffed up some, a scowl. “Well, nevermind them.” She said in that feisty, dismissive tone of hers. Like she could take anybody and anything in a fight. “I’ll scare ‘em enough they forget all about hatin’ on you.” She would too. Hmph. Mean ol’ people.

He opened the door for her, and Lisabeth stopped short, a side glance at him. “...uh huh.” But then she strolled into the room regardless. She was curious to see what Miss Rachel had sent up, after all.

And she had wanted to spend time with Sam. Specially ‘cause he had thought she mighta left. “Oh hey-” She started, curiously picking up the cover on one of the trays. “That was awful nice of her-” ...HEY! Miss Rachel DID know she’d been in here last night!

Eh, oh well.

“Best eat while it’s hot, don’t ya think? Sides-I didn’t drink a lot of that whiskey, but even a little makes me diz…” She colored, cause not holding alcohol was not very tough or outlaw-y. She just forgot herself a minute there, with Sam. “Er. Food just smells nice.” She pulled out a chair and then tried to gesture HIM into it, grinning like a cat. “Sir!”

She was ridiculous. If he took the seat she’d laugh and then take her own-if he didn’t, well, she’d pretend to pout and then plop into it herself-either way picking up a roll and eyeing the beer suspiciously, before she tore off a small piece of bread and popped it into her mouth, one of her boots swinging absently. She seemed in good spirits, at the very least-the sad, vulnerable bit of talk long forgotten about, it seemed.

She tipped her hat back absently-then remembered it and took it off, setting it on the corner of her chair neatly, the star facing up- brushing her hair off her shoulder, dark waves tumbling down her back.

"So..." Lisabeth was curious, another small piece of bread torn off but not popped in her mouth yet, still talking. "Mrs. Matthers said you brought a murderer in for her, once?" Her husband's murderer. "Made it sound like it was awful difficult in doing, too?"

 

[Armphid]

What was that funny look when he held the door? Just being polite towards a lady. Was that it? That she didn't want to be treated like a lady? Hell. Too damn bad. She was a lady and it might not matter to her but it mattered to him that he treat her proper. Within reason, of course. He'd do that even if they weren't...whatever it was that they were. Huh. What would the right term be? Damned if he knew.

He'd taken his hat off and hung it on the hook on the wall and was shrugging out of his jacket when he noticed her holding out the chair for him with that mocking smile. Sam gave her a sour look and then shook his head and took the offered seat, "Gentlemanly of you." Her laugh was pleasing, even if he half felt like she was laughing at him as much as with him.

He was glad she was in good spirits. Her mood could change so quickly and that downturn in the stable was, well, it wasn't unexpected. They were on a pretty serious subject, after all. But as much as he liked that heart voice of hers 'cause he knew she was talking true then, he preferred her happy. He took a forkful of the smashed potatoes and chewed happily. Lord Almighty. So much better than eating on the ride.

Lisabeth's seemingly casual question brought the fork back down to the table. She'd told her about that? Fool, of course she did if Lisabeth asked about their past. Sam took one of the beers, popped the cap on the edge of the table, and took a long drink. He set it down and was quiet for a few beats before nodding, "That I did. And it damned near killed me more than once; hell, even after it was over, I nearly bought it. In this very room."

He was as silent a moment again and sighed with a smile, "Can't say something like that and not tell the story, can I?" Sam shook his head, "Well. Best get comfortable, depending on how much I go into it, it's a long story." He took another drink, gathering his thoughts and making himself ready to talk about it. It wasn't something he liked to remember. "So it all starts with a man, fella by the name of Josh Stewart. Now, he came out here before the war and went into the mountains; trapper, hunter, that kind of thing. He was here 'fore the mill and the town and the railroad, living out in the wild and traveling to sell the furs he caught and such. It's said he came out west 'cause he killed a man in a fight and fled the law but that's likely a story more'n it is true. He always said he came west to be free. No law binding him, no preachers or politicians, just him living free."

Sam leaned back in his chair, "Now when Josh Stewart said he was a free man, what he meant was that he was going to do as he liked when he liked. If he saw something he wanted, he'd get it; if it was something somebody else had, well, depending on his mood he might make an offer for it but he might just take it. If they objected, depending on his mood, he might thrash 'em, might kill 'em then and there, or ambush 'em out in the wild. But he'd get what he wanted 'cause he was a free man and he didn't bend knee to no law or nobody. That went for supplies, for guns, for horses, and...for women. He'd taken two women I know of up into the mountains to be his "wife," not that he married them. Neither of ever came out of those mountains; he said they got sick and died. Maybe so. Maybe they made him mad or talked back; he'd respond to any insult with violence, even killin'."

The bounty hunter's disdain was evident in his voice, as was a deep seated anger. All these years and it still burned. As did his shame. "So. Josh Stewart came to town to sell his furs, drink, have a girl or two, and complain about how all the folk comin' west were getting in the way of his freedom about once a season or so. He mostly behaved himself at The Garden, never roughed up.the girls he was with, so they put up with him. He had an eye for Mrs. Mathers; not the first or last there, but she didn't care for him one bit. She does take some, ah, customers if she likes them sometimes but she wanted no part of him. Every time he showed up, he asked, she turned him down, he'd either go with another girl or leave. It was like that for a year and more before I first met Mrs. and Mr. Mathers and went on after I started coming around and using this place as one of my main stops."

Sam drained the rest of the beer and opened another, "So one night, maybe he'd drunk too much or not enough, but he wasn't taking no anymore. He was a free man and she was just a woman and a whore. He slipped out after she turned him down again but he waited around. When she went out to take care of the horses, Johnny was still young enough then that he only did it during the day, he jumped her. Smacked her around a bit and started ripping her dress up but Mr. Mathers had come out to ask her about something, saw what was happening, brained Stewart with a piece of firewood and hauled him off of her. Josh Stewart started rantin' about how they didn't have no right, no place here; he was out here first and a free man and all. Mr. Mathers told him his freedom ended where everyone else's started, to leave and never come back. That's when Josh Stewart shot him dead. Fired both barrels on his shotgun into Mr. Mathers' chest. He lived just long enough so they could say goodbye. A small mercy, I guess."

"I wasn't there. Like to think I could've done something if I was but that's just wishful thinking; probably would've gone down the same." Sam sighed, "Anyway, Josh Stewart ran. He was charged but the sheriff, different fella than now, wasn't going to go after him. Said he wasn't gonna risk his neck for some slut, said Mr. Mathers defending his wife didn't enter into 'cause by his mind a whore didn't have a husband. So he just charged him and put a price on him. That's about when I rolled back into town."