When the West was Wild! (Closed)

[Ambrosia_64]

Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. Like the war. But she was dying of curiosity, and it was hard not to want to know. Still, if it made him sad…

Lisabeth was about to make a joke or say something particularly ridiculous, pretend to forget about it so he didn’t have to talk if’n he didn’t want-when Sam finally spoke back up. Story time after all!

"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."

Aquamarine eyes widened, the outlaw giving a look around the room. What, here? He’d nearly died in HERE? Why on earth would he ever wanna see be in it again? Guess...well, guess he hadn’t died, so maybe that just didn’t bother him much to think on. Still.

“Well...I ain’t much good at sittin’ still, but I do like stories.” Lisabeth said slowly, her gaze coming back to him-and then her plate, picking up the fork for some mashed potatoes of her own, the roll forgotten about for the moment.

At first, Josh Stewart sounded like her kind of person. At first. Wanting to be free, wanting to go and do things you wanted to do when you wanted to do them, living in the wild-she got that. Heck, wasn’t that was SHE’D gone and come out for? But then she remembered his story ended in Mr. Mathers being dead, and Sam almost being dead, and she didn’t feel much kinship anymore-particularly as he went on.

Living free she understood. Killing people less so. How could you want to be free so bad but then take it away from other people? Made no sense. And...and it wasn’t really okay to take things from people that needed ‘em. But she’d done that, robbin’ banks.

...she’d done a lot of bad things.

"and...for women."

Her troubled expression turned into a wide eyed one as her attention relit on Sam and his story, swallowing mid chew and straightening up on that. A kidnapper! For real? And...and they never came back…? Her eyes narrowed, a shake of her head. And Sam sounded mad. Different than when his things had been stolen. Worse. She couldn’t blame him.

No, she didn’t have nothing in common with Josh Stewart, after all. Though...well, Sal did, a little. And she had done those things, much as she’d like to pretend Sal was someone separate from her entirely.

Maybe there was something in common. And the thought of that was awfully unsettling. The reminder that she hadn’t been a very good person, last few years. And still wasn’t.

But Josh Stewart thought he was plumb better, more important than anybody else, it sounded like. Like he deserved the things he stole. Entitled to ‘em, women included. That was messed up. Other people deserved to be free too…

"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.”

Lisabeth looked a mixture of angry and troubled, like she was dreading whatever might be coming next. And it was bad. Real bad.

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.

Her face was dark and her eyes glittered danger, looking almost as mean as when Lydia had shown up and started running her mouth off in Tanner’s Lode-but at the same time there was still that sense of worried dread about her. Cause Lisabeth knew how it musta gone, and it unfortunately wasn’t Mr. Mathers shooting him dead. Which was too bad, because...because he sounded like a smart, good man.

She dropped her eyes to her lap, sad and angry, but mostly sad.

“Some sheriff. Woulda liked to steal HIS star, too.” Lisabeth muttered, messing with the cloth napkin in her lap, twisting it up and tying it into a knot, then undoing it and doing a different one. Dead just like that. Shotgun, too. Damn.

Dead and gone forever-and all because Josh Stewart thought Mrs. Mathers was pretty. All because he thought he was due. There was a defiant set to her jaw as she worked at the knots, thinking the man over.

“...and then you went and got him?” And that had gone rough, Sam had said, Mrs. Mathers had said. At great sacrifice, hadn’t she said? Lisabeth glanced up, saw his second beer was mostly gone-and slid one of hers over to him, retracted her arm- then slid the second one, too.

Her fingers snagged the whiskey bottle instead. Beer sometimes tickled her nose too much. “And that wasn’t nothing easy, so you said, so I heard.” This was a very serious story. Not even she could think of a joke anywhere in there-that bad. She uncorked the bottle and had a swig.

 

[Armphid]

Sam snorted, "If that yellow bellied, bible beating ass was still around, I'd help ya do it. But he got pushed out of office and the town by Mrs. Mathers and her friends after all was said and done." He finished the second beer and glanced down to see she'd pushed hers over. He gave her an acknowledging nod in thanks. He might need them. Sam would tell her, 'cause she asked and he didn't feel like it would be right to hide anything after...well after, but the memories were still evil ones. "Yeah, I brought him in. Twice, after a fashion. And it was hard as hell."

He took a deep breath, "I got into town about a week after it happened. Mrs. Mathers was in a state but she asked me to help; I was already going to but she's not one to assure those kinds of things for others. Took a day to re-supply and red my horse a little, then I lit out after him." Sam shook his head and cracked the third beer open, "Now, Josh Stewart was a son of a bitch but he knew his stuff in the wild; I nearly lost him on false trails he laid twice. That's two of four times that ever happened. It took me almost three weeks to catch up to him. It helped that I roughly knew where he was going. He'd come into town and jawed enough that I knew the area of mountains he thought were his, but it was still a big place to search and I'd used a lot of what I brought just getting there."

He took a drink. "Probably could've looked for Josh Stewart up there for a year and not found him. Lucky enough, he found me first. Third night in the mountains and he comes hollering at me from beyond the fire light; wantin' to know who I am and what I was doin' on his mountain." The former soldier smirked, "I told him I was hunting and I didn't see his name on the place. That got him a little hot and he said I outghta watch my mouth, out there a free man doesn't like the way you're talking, he'll kill you. I told him a man ain't that free if someone else's words bother him that much. That confused him so he shut up he was trying to figure out if I insulted him or not. I'd turned to face him as soon as he spoke, so my back hurts was to the fire and I was getting my night eyes while he did his thinking. I saw him as he was raising his rifle to shoot; I outdrew him and fired first. He jerked his shot, it just grazed me." He ran a finger in a line across the top of his right shoulder, "It's faded but the scar's still there."

Sam shook his head, "It was an awful long shot for a pistol, fell.short enough to hit the tree he was hiding behind. That spooked him and made him mad, he swore up and down he'd kill me, that he'd killed better men. I lost my head then, told him that's why I was there, to bring him in for killing. He swore a bunch but he backed off after we traded a few more shots and I winged him. If I'd had my rifle instead of my pistol, I'd have...well, I didn't. Anyway, he faded after that but told me that if I fell asleep in his mountains, I'd never wake up."

Sam took a long pull of the beer. "I knew he meant it, so...I didn't sleep for the next three days while I hunted him. Wasn't easy. But he wasn't running neither; he wanted to beat me. Nearly suckered him in once playing possum but we ended up just trading a few punches 'fore he slipped off like a damn snake again. He tried to ambush me a few times but I turned 'em around and nearly got him twice. That was when he got mean." He ran a hand through his chestnut hair and sighed, "He set a trap an' I rode right into it; triggered a little landslide swept me and my horse right off the trail we were on and over a fall. I managed to get free of poor Artie or I'd have died right there." His voice almost caught, "Artue didn't make it though. Killed my horse. Bastard."

Sam drained most of the bottle, "Anyway, I managed to pull myself up and hear Josh Stewart cackling. Telling me he'd let me walk out and if I lived, to tell everyone who'd beat me." He was silent a few moments. "So I dug out what I could from around poor Artie and walked out of the mountains to the nearest town. I was a mess. Nearly didn't make it but stumbled into a convent that tool me in, saved my life. Josh Stewart beat me then, all right. But I wasn't done yet."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Lisabeth had forgotten all about her dinner, all about the whiskey-the bottle in her lap, her fingers fidgeting with the cork as she hung on his every word. He had somehow managed to wrangle the whole of Lisabeth Green's attention yet again-no small task.

Almost gettin' shot just for being on a mountain?! And then threatening to kill him in his sleep?! That guy was crazy!

Her eyes widened even further as he described the next three days, the dangerous hunting game the two men had played. She couldn't half believe it. Sounded like a miserable time.

And then she made a gasped noise, sitting bolt right in her chair, instantly furious. "Sonuvabitch killed your horse?!" She loved Nellie. She loved Nellie more than she loved anything. She was the best girl in the whole state of Illonois and the whole West, too.

"I wouldn't a left!" She lifted the whiskey, an almost angry swig, her face dark. "'Course, I guess that woulda gotten me shot, but damn-what a rotten rat faced bastard."

Another, now sad swig and then she set it on the table, a shake of her head and a sigh. "Well. You're a lot smarter than me Sam." Her temper had gotten her in-and out- of trouble many a time-but mostly in.

He knew it-she'd charged him despite his rifle. Crazy sometimes did the trick, she guessed. Hadn't failed her so far.

She worried on her lip as he described having to walk out of there, wondering how on earth he'd made it. Poor Sam. Losing your horse, having to turn back on your mission after having been briefly bested-and then go on a likely death march? Damn.

"And you went back on after him?" Lisabeth was a tad hard to read for a moment. As if she couldn't decide if she was impressed or if she thought that had been a dumb thing to do.

But Mr. Mathers. And Artie. And him having almost died, gotten shot at! "I...I guess he did have a lot to answer for..." Gone after him for Mrs. Mathers and...for good? Because it was the right thing to do?

She seemed to have settled on troubled respect, thinking that-and him- over. "So...so how did you get him?" She asked, even more curious, a little anxious.

 

[Armphid]

Sam could tell she at least half thought he was crazy or stupid for going back. Thinking back on it...he didn't blame her. He might be crazy a touch. But back then, he never seriously thought about not going back. His mind had been planning on how to catch Josh Stewart every torturous step of his walk out of the mountains, every minute he was recovering; there was never a doubt.

Maybe he was a little stupid too.

"Well, I was laid up with the nuns about two weeks before I was back on my feet. I found an old cavalryman selling his horse, Chet, wired for some money from the bank in Dodge and re-supplied once I got it. By the time I was headed back to the mountains, old Josh Stewart was sure he'd seen the last of me. I'd died walking back or cut my losses an' run, he figured." Sam took another drink, "Lot of men would have, I guess. But I always was odd."

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, "Now since he figured he'd won, Josh Stewart stopped keeping an eye out or hiding his trail. Once I got back up there, I was able to pick it up. I didn't find him at first, but I found his traps. I wanted him mad and running himself ragged, since he had the advantage of knowing the terrain like I never could. So when I found his traps, I broke 'em. If they had something in them, I took it. Had some nice meals of fresh meat courtesy of Josh Stewart. Every time, I'd muddle the trail as much as I could so he wouldn't know if it was one man, many, if it was Indians, or who knows what. So I did that as many times as I could, then I found a good spot and I waited. A lot of bounty hunting is about patience in one way or another."

Sam smiled briefly, "You could hear him swearing from miles away, first broken trap he found. Then he found another and he gets madder. Then he found a third and now he knows it's being done a purpose, ain't just bad luck. So he starts haring everywhere checking his traps and I watched. And from seeing where he was going, I figured out where he'd been. His home. Nice solid cabin; four graves behind it. Probably the women he took. I went there and waited for him to.come back. Soon as he walked in the door, I hit him with my rifle butt and dropped him like a dude. Tied him, slung him on Chet, and off we went." His expression was grimly satisfied. Not happy, not even pleased, just satisfied. "He yelled and kicked and bit the whole way back to Miller's Junction. Slipped his ties once and come at me with a knife," Sam brushed fingers along his left side, "Saw him coming though. Didn't scar too bad. Stayed awake after that. Couldn't risk sleeping." He shook his head, "Long trip back and I was dead on my feet at the end. But I got Josh Stewart back to face justice. The circuit judge just happened to be in town then so we got him up and tried right away. Guilty and sentenced to hang."

Sam sighed. "...Should've been the end of it. But he got out; shanked a deputy with a sharpened bit of wood and hightailed it out of town. That was two days after I brought him in. So I went back after him. Easy to catch up this time but, well, I was still exhausted and feeling weak. That knife cut...something got in it; it was making me sick, not that I knew it then. I caught up to him and we fought. I didn't want to shoot him. I wanted justice to be carried out. I should've just shot. Anyway. We fought about an hour outside of town. I managed to get him down and he laughed, telling me he'd just get out again and I wouldn't catch him that time. That he'd pay back Mrs. Mathers and the girls for daring to get in his business. That he'd kill me, the judge, everyone trying to keep him from being a free man."

Sam's hands were tight on the beer bottle. "Something just...broke in me. I thought of the harm he'd done and what he was saying and-and I hit him. And I hit him. And I kept hitting him. I...I couldn't think, couldn't really feel what I was doing. Until I realized he wasn't moving no more." He was quiet then for a few moments. "So. I brought him back. He died a few hours after. And I almost did too. Whatever got into that cut...infected real bad. I spent a month in this room almost dying from it, half thinking maybe I deserved it, fevered, delirious, couldn't hardly tell what was happening most of the time. But I made it. So. That's pretty much it."

He drained the beer in one long pull and set it aside, "Ain't a nice story, is it? If it changes your mind on me, well...I don't blame ya none."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"But I always was odd."

"Jus' committed, that's all." He was right about the other stuff though. A lot of men wouldn't have gone back-assuming they had the will and luck to not die on the walkim the first place.

But then again, Sam wasn't most men. She knew that already.

Lisabeth tipped her chair back on just two legs as she mused to herself, another swig of whiskey. The toe of one boot pressed against the underside of the table, her other one swinging back and forth under her seat. The little outlaw had uncanny balance-she was perfectly relaxed in such a precarious position. Maybe it helped she was so small and didn't weigh much?

Her eyes lit up on his destroying and emptying the traps, a laugh. "I bet he was MAD!" She would of course find that entertaining-she was all about tricks and games. As he knew, as damn near everyone who had ever encountered Sal knew.

Even Sam smiled a minute, telling her about his cursing over it. Good! And then better-he caught him! Trussed HIM up and-oh, the cause of the other scar she'd seen.

Lisabeth frowned, slowly lowering the chair back to all fours as he went on, her brow furrowing over the escape and the fight-and shooting up again, wide eyed, at the threats to Mrs. Matthers and the girls, on everyone.

He wasn't a free man. He was the worst kind of animal, something was...something was wrong with him. Just...bad. Wanting to hurt people, not caring about their freedom or rights at all.

Four graves behind his house. Tried to hurt Mrs. Matthers and shot her husband for protecting her.

Her eyes flickered to the beer bottle, then his face as he went on. Her own had lost any sort of...something. It was open, listening-no smile or grin, no mask, no temper or suspicion narrowing her eyes or tightening her lips-an awake version of her sleeping face, relaxed and quiet.

And then the story was over. Lisabeth watched him drain the beer and set it aside. She set the whiskey aside too, leaned back in her chair. "He would have escaped again, done exactly as he wanted. Men like him..." Like -her-. "Always find a way. If they're alive, they'll find a way." She studied the bottle before he spoke up again, said he wouldn't blame her for thinking differently of him. For a moment, the room was quiet, Lisabeth looking at him from across the table.

And then she stood up, the barest bit of unsteadiness-before coming around to his side of the table, a small hand catching at his arm to turn him to face her, the other framing one side of his face. With him sitting and her standing, she was only slightly taller than he was, her aquamarine eyes looking into his amber ones.

She felt...she didn't know what she felt. Bad for him, sympathetic, a pang of hurt in her chest-but...something else. Maybe it was the whiskey.

"No, Sam." That soft voice. "He was bad, and you...you're good." Her thumb grazed over his cheekbone. "You'll always be good, you can -only- be good. And his bad was just...you couldn't have hardly done anything else. The good in you couldn't stand to suffer the awful in him."

She was being tender in a way no one had ever really seen before. This from Six Gun Sal? Or even fiery, impulsive, stubborn Lisabeth Green?

"And...I couldn't ever think bad of you, Sam." Heck, the more she learned the better he got. Shouldn't that work the other way around? She smiled faintly. "Hell, I didn't even when you wanted to hang me."

She kissed him then, cause what else could she do? Poor Sam was walking around being ashamed for stopping a horrible human being, when by all accounts he'd more than earned the right.

It wasn't like yesterday. Not a searing kiss with intent to steal. More like the softer kisses afterward, sweet and warm and...caring? And that soft voice-the honest, vulnerable one-the one that never lied.

She did care. And she wasn't even hiding it, right now.

 

[Armphid]

How she was able to turn him with those little hands was a mystery but she did it easy enough. Sam turned to her but didn't actually look at her until that other small, soft, warm hand touched his face, framing it. Lord, how could her hand be so warm and so...nice to feel?

His eyes met hers and widened in surprise. His face was that of a man who had expected disgust at the least, condemnation most likely and worst, and instead found a sweet acceptance. She still saw him as good? After...whether he was a bad man or not, he'd beaten a man to death with his hands. She didn't like violence. Hated killing. She'd screamed at him over killing the Indian as was about to gut her. But not now.

"The good in you couldn't stand to suffer the awful in him," she'd said. Was that it? He'd always felt that it was a throwback; the old killing instincts he'd learned in the war coming out. Or somehow a revelation that under all his attempts to make a better man of himself, that he was just a killer under it all. That was all he was good at or for.

Her kiss. It was a different kiss yet than any he had shared with her. It wasn't hungry and fiery, though it spread warmth though him and made him aware how close she was. It wasn't an impulsive and daring surprise, though he was still startled on a certain level. It was something pure and sweet; open and welcoming. Her kiss spoke the same message her words had but was more eloquent and more simply forceful.

Sam's arms went about her and he pulled her in for an embrace. His lips answered hers with a relief that he'd have been embarrassed to try and put into words. When the kiss broke, he looked into that prettier than a painting face and slightly shook his head, "I...Lisabeth, I didn't expect...thank you. What happened then...it's met with some mixed reactions. But for you to...I...it means something mighty big to me that you think that of me. I aim not to disappoint you."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Sam was so nice to hug. Lisabeth had never figured herself for one who wanted to be held, but with him...well, maybe. Just maybe.

He seemed so relieved. Touched. That softness showing through, not the weak kind, just...just so genuine. Real. She could see it in that expressive face, in those amber colored eyes.

Her fingers carefully smoothed over a bit of his hair on his forehead, the words whirling around in her mind. Disappoint her? Her? Like anybody as good as Sam ever had to worry about what someone like her thought.

But he did, didn't he? Lisabeth gave a huff of a soft, soft laugh. "I don't think you could if you tried." She said, and she meant it. He was the best person she'd ever damn well met, she didn't care what anybody else said or thought. Even if he woulda probably protested the fact.

He was so good. Good, and handsome, and honest...where was she going with this? She didn't damn well know, and good thing nobody was asking. Lisabeth kissed his forehead. Nobody had to know about that, either. And to think, she'd nearly gone to Mexico.

Life worked odd sometimes. Then again, she'd always had ridiculous luck in everything but people, hadn't she?

 

[Armphid]

Sam was never one to have himself be, well, comforted the way she was now. Smoothing back his hair, kissing his forehead, touching his face like it was something beautiful. But from her, with her, it was mighty comforting. Sweet. Never would he have imagined he would ever feel this kind of...connection? Joining? Connection was better. But never thought he'd have that with anyone, much less the most frustrating, devilish outlaw he'd ever tracked down. Here they were though.

He almost buried his face in her chest but that was likely a bridge too far. She'd laugh or swat at him and he'd deserve it. Instead, he closed his eyes for a few moments and let out a breath. He smiled a slow, small smile that was that of a man who, for a moment at least, was at peace.

"Well. I don't intend to try. I reckon life has enough of that, so I'll aim to be the one thing that won't ever disappoint." Sam opened his eyes and his smile grew a bit wicked, "Sweeter than sugar, you are, Lisabeth. But I've half a mind to carry you to bed and do some delightfully unsweet things."

He kisses her again. A man could sure get used to that. It was a tender kiss but it grew warmer, asking a silent question.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"You just...stay whatever it is you are, Sam." She had meant that to be flippant. Maybe even a little teasing.

But it didn't quite come out that way. Instead, it made her feel a little sad, cause she did want that, and she had thought she knew better. She wanted him to stay the same, she didn't want any other shoes dropping, or rugs being pulled out, or-

"Sweeter than sugar, you are, Lisabeth. But I've half a mind to carry you to bed and do some delightfully unsweet things."

That and his smile brought on different sorts of feelings, a thrill of heat coursing through her. He looked almost as scheming as her, yesterday! The outlaw's eyes widened and then narrowed a fraction, that mischievous little smile playing across her lips before he pressed his mouth to hers, and she forgot all about being sad or sympathetic or hoping.

Lisabeth was always quick to flip switches, and fire burst into life out of the stillness without much preamble in the slip of a woman.

The kiss had hardly got very warm before the outlaw made it searing, what had been gentle, calming little fingers now threading through his hair, the slip of a woman pressing into him in answer to that question.

Like she woulda said no to a grin like that.

Couldn't help it. Didn't want to help it. She wasn't wearing anything under her shirt, she could feel his warmth through his own. Maybe she was curious about what Sam was like, when things were his idea. Maybe she remembered all of yesterday, and wouldn't mind repeating it.

Maybe she was an impulsive, fiery woman and she did what she wanted, to hell with prudishness or social mores. They both might also be a might drunk, but they would have been here anyway, in her figurin'.