Hell Bent For Leather - Young Guns

Chapter 6...Welcome Back OR Maxwell's House...Good to the Last Drop!

Chapter Summary: Jessica Tunstall has just passed away and the household is in mourning. Aubrey retires to her room, and experiences the third stage of grief: acceptance, accompanied by sorrow.
In her repose, Aubrey takes solace in her Aunt's diaries.
Late July, 1878
I couldn't stop thinking about what just happened. I closed my eyes; thinking that my emotional pain was much more overwhelming than my physical pain. I thought of Alex, still wondering why he was so insignificantly gunned down, when all he had in his hands was the Holy Bible. It seemed that there was no way to halt the nightmare...the horror that ended the Lincoln County War that kept replaying in my mind.

I will never forget the look on J.J. Dolan's face, as he held the lifeless body of Lawrence Murphy in his arms. "You limey fucking whore!" He had shouted, aiming to shoot me. And Dirty Steve...knocking me down, taking the bullet that was meant for me.

"You betcha ass it ain't over, Bonney!" I could still hear Dolan's voice. "I'm gunnin' for ya! The army is gonna be gunnin' for ya! The whole goddamned New Mexico territory is gonna be gunnin' for ya...you and your limey sweetheart shooter, too!"

No one seemed to be following us, for which I was grateful. All I wanted to do now was to get some sleep. My eyes drooped with fatigue, as I held onto Billy's waist, my face against his back. We made it to old Fort Sumner right at dusk.

Riding up to Beaver's place, Billy quickly dismounted his horse, and gently helped me down. "You okay?" He asked me. "You want a drink? Are you hungry?"

I looked up at him. "No. I'm fine." The truth was, I wasn't fine...I was emotionally drained at this point, my eyes hurting from crying so much.

Billy held my hand, as we walked past Beaver's place, and headed for Pete Maxwell's residence. "Let's see if Pedro can set us up, okay sweetheart?"

I nodded, too worn out to speak, and just barely able to keep up with Billy's fast pace walk. Pedro, or mostly known as Pete Maxwell, owned old Fort Sumner, and he had the biggest, most beautiful house in De Baca County. I didn't know the Maxwell's that well, and what Pete thought of me and Billy, I really had no idea.

We were greeted at the door by Deluvina Maxwell, Pete's loyal Navajo servant.

"We need to see Pete." Billy told her with a smile.

Deluvina smiled back, as she led us into the foyer, and requested for us to stay there. I collapsed into a comfy couch, as Billy stood, looking out of the window. Eyes heavy, I leaned back, and felt myself drift off into an uneasy sleep.

"Billy?" I heard a deep male voice say a few moments later. I slowly opened my eyes to see Pete standing in front of Billy, a worried expression on his dark face. "What happened?" He asked; his brown eyes full of concern, as he looked me over.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Where do I begin? My lower lip trembling, I looked over at Billy for help.

"We need a place to stay for a few days." Billy explained, telling Pete about what just happened in Lincoln.

"Dios!" Pete gasped, his face turning pale. He looked down at me and sighed. "You both may stay here."

"Thank you..." I told Pete, finding my voice once again. "Thank you so much!"

"I'll tell Deluvina to get a bath ready for you." He said, patting my shoulder as he smiled at me, leaving the room with Billy.

Clad in a bathrobe, I followed Deluvina to a spare room. She lit the large lantern that was next to the bed, and lit a small fire in the wood stove that heated the room quickly. I thanked her, as she left, quietly closing the door. I flopped onto the bed, exhausted, wondering what was going to happen next.
Yawning, I got up, and checked the wound on the side of my head. It would heal nicely, and not leave much of a scar. After my bath, I had put some aloe on that particular wound and other various gashes and cuts I had received in the past few days.