Six Shots Deep

Is This It?

As we traveled to West Elizabeth, Arthur tried describing the ranch the best of his abilities. He didn't do a very good job, to be honest. But I appreciated the effort. As we came in, John waved and called everyone outside.

Abigail came out first, followed by a young boy, who I assumed was Jack. Then an older man, who looked like Uncle joined. Finally, the last one to come out was no other than Charles Smith. They all smiled as I dismounted.

"Rose?" Abigail embraced me in a hug. "When you left, we didn't know what to think," she walked around me, "and look at you, all armed to the teeth like that." She laughed.

"I'm working for the law," I said, adjusting my hat, "bringing in bounties from all over the place."

"Take in that good for nothin bastard while ya at it." She pointed to John.

"Hey!" John defended, "I'm a changed man!"

"Like hell you are, 'Jim Milton.'"

"Jim Milton?"

"A fake name he's goin by," Arthur laughed, "ain't doin too good of a job hidin his identity."

"I'll say." Abigail scoffed. "So, do tell me of your adventures in the last five years."

"Ain't had too many adventures, Abigail," I sat down on the porch steps, "just been bringin in all manner of scum. Then, during the night, I make money by working at the saloon. Although, I don't reckon I'll be doin that anymore." I nudged Arthur's shoulder.

"Well, I suppose that's some adventure." She smiled.

I shrugged. "Could be considered one."

*****

I decided to set up camp at the edge of Beechers Hope. I never really knew anybody that well besides Arthur. Although now thinking about it, I hardly knew him either. I shook the thought away, focusing on building the fire up. After I was satisfied, I sat back, leaning my weight against my arms.

I heard footsteps approaching and looked behind me. I was a little upset when I saw it wasn't Arthur, but instead Charles. He smiled as he sat down next to me.

"Good evening, Miss Rose."

"Please, just call me Rose."

He nodded and let out a sigh, looking up to the sky. "Stars are beautiful tonight."

I followed his gaze. "That they are." I looked over to him. "So, what's your backstory?"

He chuckled. "Been on the run for a long time. My mother was an Indian, my father a colored man. We stayed with my mothers tribe for a while. A number of free colored men did. When we were forced to leave our lands, the three of us fled. We drifted, moving from place to place. A couple years later, some soldiers captured my mother, took her somewhere. We never saw her again. My father then turned to the drink. He was a very sad man, and the drink had a mean hold on him. Around thirteen, I took off on my own. I moved from gang to gang, trying to find a place to fit in. Then Dutch found me and accepted me for who I was." He shrugged. "He was different. But in the end, he went crazy."

I reached over and touched his arm. "I'm sorry about your childhood, Charles. I wish I had known."

"How about you?"

"Very different from you," I smiled, "my childhood was somewhat normal. My father however went into debt with the O'Driscolls when I was sixteen. Colm came and killed him. I spent two years with my mother before taking off one night and searching for Colm. As you can see, we killed him, and then I left the gang for five years and here I am again." I shrugged. "I'm making the most of it."