Charles Smith x Reader

Thirty-Five

With bated breath you led your horse through the dark of the forest, fingers tightly wrapped around the reins so it wouldn't shy away at every branch that rustled with the wind.

Close to your back walked the bison, pulling the wagon. It wasn't optimal but the animal was strong enough to pull past uneven ground, small stones and deep trenches.

Right behind followed Charles with the two cows.

The group was slow but the dark and thick veil of leaves and trees made you all disappear between shadows and dancing illusions.

Your heart pounded inside your chest as you made it to the river, soft running of water filling your ears. It wasn't deep but you feared that, with the extra baggage, the bison wouldn't be able to pull through it.

You threw a glance back to check on Charles only to feel a cold shiver chase across your skin. All the hairs on your body stood up straight.

Not far, but far enough to know that you weren't visible to anyone, torches lit up the dark. Muffled voices cut through the silence and horses galloped across dusty streets.

So sheriff Clark was a man who did not waste time. He had returned and he wasn't alone.

You wondered what he had told the people.

Perhaps he had made Charles a fiend who wanted to help the natives escape the settlers influence.

But what lies could he have told about you?

You had papers of this state, were a registered citizen with permission to own land. The ranch was in your name and you had no debt to anyone. At least not money related.

There was no dirt on your name.

Curling your lips to suppress a low growl, you glanced at Charles to meet his eyes. His expression was grim as he nodded and pushed past you to set himself at the front of the caravan.

"We will cross the river first. I'll tell you if it's safe.", he whispered into your ear as he passed by.

The cows shook their heads and for a brief moment he seemed to fear that they'd give away your location by making a sound.

But they didn't. Perhaps animals were a whole lot smarter than you wanted them to be.

Relieved, he let out a deep sound and started to get in the water. A soft curse crossed his lips, icy cold wrapping around his feet and soaking into the wool socks he had borrowed from you with no intention of ever returning them.

You waited patiently, while your gaze jumped back over your shoulder time and time again. The beating of your own heart echoed inside your ears.

Maybe it was just your imagination but the torches seemed to burn a lot brighter than before. The smell of ashes reached your nose as you took in a deep breath.

What was that?

And why did you hear a crackling?

Almost as if wood started to burn.

Not a second later you were torn from your thoughts by Charles who hasted through the river as if he was chased by a bear.

His eyes wide, almost black in the night, he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the river. Struck by surprise you stumbled and fell.

Water embraced your knees, soaking your pants all the way to your crotch. It was so cold that you had to suck in a sharp breath as to not yell at him.

The bison moved while Charles took the reins from your hand and pulled him towards the other side of the river. Water splashed, wheels sunk and the animal threw its head into the air by the sudden weight that threatened to pull him down.

"What are you doing?!", you hissed with clenched teeth and followed him hastily. "We don't know if the riverbed is strong enough for the wagon to be pulled up. It might get stuck!"

Anger overwhelmed you. But as quick as it had come it also died again as his eyes met yours.

How rushed could a man be?

How eager to get away?

If there would have been an answer it would have been called Charles. The expression on his face was similar to the one of a madman.

Pearly white teeth shimmered in the dark. Somehow it seemed as if they reflected a light source that wasn't supposed to be there.

Irritated, you frowned and threw a glance back only for your heart to stop inside your chest.

Fire.

The entirety of the night was lit by a wall of red and orange flames. Their tongues reached up to the stars, greedily tried to bite into stone and wood and made your eyes water with smoke.

It wasn't close, not yet but so large and frightening that it was enough for your legs to freeze. Your eyes trembled and for more than just a brief second your mind was devoured by this strange threat that burned up into the night.

Before a single word could cross your lips Charles grabbed your face and forced you to look at him. A slight shake of his head made his hair dance. He didn't know what to say, knew that an apology wasn't and would never be enough.

Instead, his hand reached for yours, fingers entangled with yours and he pulled you further. Small waves caressed your calves as the wagon got moving again.

But you couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight.

Right there, in a distance that wasn't great enough, burned the remains of your old life. The cabin, with its wooden beams and an arched roof, the bed in which you had tended to Charles for the past months and the kitchen that still smelled like dinner from the day before.

An entire life lit up the night, the last thing it would ever do and painted the stars with red and ashes.

It smelled of burned memories and hopeful wishes that now would never be discovered unless someone were to fall to their knees and cover their hands in cinder and agony.

It broke your heart. That night took everything from you.

So why did your shoulders feel so light all of a sudden?