Wild Fire (Book II)

Racing Against Time

     As much as Dutch wanted to ride to Saint Denis alone, he could not afford to waste any time. He met John and Susan at the train station at Emerald Ranch. This was the first time in years, Dutch thought, that he would be riding a train instead of robbing it.

     They sat in the back car, John and Miss Grimshaw perched in the seat in front of Dutch, while the uncharacteristically worried leader held Emma in his arms behind them. He clutched her longways across his lap like a child wrapped in a blanket tucked against him.

     John turned sideways in the seat, throwing his long arm over the back of it, as he looked over the unusual scene. Dutch sat so undecorated in front of him. He still wore the red union suit. No gold chains, no sophisticated blacks or reds of the typical silk vest he usually wore. Even the black pot pie fedora had been left behind leaving the dark curls of his hair wild and spilling over his concerned shoulders. John noticed that he had not even grabbed his gun and took a mental note to stay near the man as they traveled, whether he liked it or not, just to protect his beloved leader. He was for once completely vulnerable to everything and everyone around him. But even in his fragile state Van der linde looked fierce and unapproachable.

     Marston watched as he snuggled the blanket up around the girl's chin. Folding it and tucking it just so, making sure that any scratch the fabric may have had never touched her delicate face. She was literally swaddled, cuddled and cradled so tightly to his chest, that John imagined if anyone tried to touch her they would lose any or all of the fingers they dared to stretch out towards the man.

     As loving as the scene was, it sent Marston's radar a blaze. He was watching him carefully. The tender way he brushed the back of his ringed knuckles in a feathery stroke down the line of her jaw. The dark dilated eyes studying her pale face for the slightest wince of any new discomfort. It wasn't Dutch. It was the onlook of a father or more so, a lover, worrying over the most sacred possession they owned in the whole entire world. It was almost unnerving to see the man this way. Dutch loved one thing above all others, and that was himself. But in this, this adoration, that poured from him like water from a mountain stream, John saw all the selfishness of self-preservation melt away, and love for this tiny human replace its usual confines. Arthur was right. Something was definitely going on in Dutch's head, and now he too wondered what it was. Arthur was never one to brandage such rage towards someone unwarranted. Least of all, their respected leader upon which he adored. Morgan had sensed it, and now John himself was seeing it.

     John cleared his throat turning in the seat a little, to catch the man's attention. "What happened back there?" He jumped in feet first, catching the outlaw's eyes as he looked up and away from the prize he was petting. It was a brief glance, and his storming orbs were looking down again at Emma's sleeping face. "I do not know John. One moment I was dressing her and the next she was screaming. And then Mr. Morgan took it upon himself to portray his presence as a complete mad man." He lifted his face as he spat Arthur's name. The blacks of his eyes still simmering with anger.

     John shifted uncomfortably. "So.... you didn't...." he fluttered a look down at Emma and let the sentence hang in the air between them. A vicious scowl creeped over Van der linde's expression. "I mean..." John began again hesitantly. "In my opinion..." Dutch clipped the man from speaking. "Oh. You have an opinion. Ain't that fine." His words were a nail in the questioning, snuffing out any thought of suspected misbehavior which Dutch clearly viewed as ridiculous.

     John turned his body completely around draping his other arm across his resting forearm on the seat. "Look, all I'm saying is Lilah is worried Dutch. And it's obvious Arthur is concerned too. She's gonna be asking me questions and I don't know how to answer her." He absently reached his slim fingers towards the girl and watched in reserved surprise as Dutch pulled Emma away from his touch and hugged her tighter to him. He drew his hand back and blinked up at the other male. Distinguished wardrobe or not, the air that circled the refined leader remained perfectly in place. "Please report to Miss Preston that Emma is more than fine. And she will continue to be so, as long as he is in MY care. Will you do that for me John?" He stressed the possessive word with calm resolve. "Why...sure Dutch." was all John could muster in response.

     Marston turned back around in the seat, folding his hands between his knees. Susan met his eyes, and they exchanged a knowing glance of confusion. This thing was not over. Not by a long shot. But while the situation shimmered suspicious, there was no proof that anything was actually wrong

     For the rest of the ride, they were silent. An uneasiness hung in the air between them, but Dutch paid it no mind. His eyes were cast down at the young one across his lap. He circled a thumb softly against the apple of her cheek. He had not begun with her yet. Not even attempted the pleasures that stirred in his mind for her to come. He needed her well. Needed her alert. Strong in body and willing beneath him. He would have that after today, or the road to that at least. He would have that doctor fix his wounded angel if he had to hold the man at gunpoint while he done it. 'Just hold on for me precious.' he thought. I will fix you. I will find you. And then I will lovingly fuck, you until you forget.