Forget You Never

O.n.e

o.n.e

"There goes the last great American dynasty. Who knows if she never showed up what could have been? There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen. She had a marvelous time ruining everything." - Taylor Swift, The Last Great American Dynasty

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TW: mentions of racism

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Alice was confident, positive, and in all other ways one hundred percent certain of the fact that she had fed her horse that morning. But as she passed beside another market stall of apples that Lemonjack could not pass without Alice tugging the reins to redirect him, she couldn't help but wonder if he had actually eaten his food.

"Enough of that, LJ," she coaxed, directing her cream-coated morgan away from the stall. She hadn't missed the protective glare from the merchant as they walked by and wasn't in the mood to start a fight. "You're not cute enough to get yourself out of that one."

Lemonjack snorted in protest and shook his head as if rolling his eyes, but he obeyed her direction and continued through the bustling market. From atop her horse Alice had a good view of the town square and let her eyes drift over the tops of the heads of all the people in their errand-running attire, the ladies carefully hitching up their walking skirts to avoid any mess as they crossed the street, and the men tipping their hats to them in greeting as they passed. She watched carefully to ensure no children darted out in front of Lemonjack's strong legs, and Lemonjack's ears flicked back and forth as he maintained his own awareness of their surroundings.

Though not uncomfortably hot, the August sun beat on Alice's back and she could feel beads of sweat running down her spine. She was sure her shirt was showing the sweat she'd worked up that day while fixing up her cabin, but she hadn't been bothered to change before coming to town just for a quick errand. The summer heat would soon give way to autumn and Maine's hills would be swimming in color all around her. Another year gone and another year come. How long could Alice afford to wait?

How long could he?

Alice brought Lemonjack to a stop beside the Spokane General Store and slid off the saddle to tie him to the post. She made a mental note to purchase some sugar cubes for him on the promise of his good behavior and gave his side a solid pat in parting. "I won't be long, I promise."

If Lemonjack knew better, he kept it to himself.

A bell rang above Alice as she stepped into the store. It was a decent size for the town, big enough to hold the essentials and even have a small section dedicated just to discounted fabrics, and Alice always felt comforted by the dark wooden interior. She rubbed her hands together and looked to her right. There behind the main counter stood her friend, Finnegan Baker, dressed in his nicely pressed white shirt, red tie, and the store's brown apron. He was speaking animatedly with a customer but tore his attention away briefly to wave and smile at Alice before returning to his sale.

"Now the one thing to know about this particular gun is you need to aim low and a bit to the left," Finnegan explained, carefully holding a revolver in his hands to show his customer. The two men leaned heavily against either side of the counter, both very intent on the subject at hand.

" 'Dja hear that from the last guy?" Questioned the man, his voice gruff. Alice moved to stand next to a small stand of dime novels near the front and perused the selection while she waited, but the conversation was hard to ignore.

"Yes," said Finnegan. "The last owner got a few small critters off his property with it just fine before having to sell it off for extra cash, so I assure you there's nothing wrong with it. It just needs a little understanding, that's all."