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They call them trinity (chapter 5)

"Hey bitches!" It's late morning, and Jenna greets them cheerfully. "I'm back! Did you miss me?"
Grace barely acknowledges that she's being addressed, which seems to set Jenna off somehow, because she kicks her legs unceremoniously.
"So" she says turning towards Hannah "I bet you're just as excited as I am. Do I need to ask again?"
Hannah shakes her head, and Jenna sighs heavily. "You'll talk, honey, or maybe Body Art here will melt if she sees you being treated."
As she pulls out the hot iron from the bucket filled with fresh coal, Grace keeps her eyes on the ground, teeth clasped together. Hannah's scream fills the air as the exposed skin on her neck gets scorched.
"No? Nothing?" Jenna asks, and bends down forcing Grace to make eye contact "You're one heartless bitch."
She digs the iron in the coals, but just as she is about to touch Hannah again, there's a gunshot outside, then two, and then the crossfire starts.
"Holy fucking shit." Jenna says as she drops the rod on the ground and runs outside, followed by all her henchmen.
Grace finally looks up at Hannah, and their eyes meet, full of questions. They can hear gunshots and people screaming. Grace shuffles, restless. It could be rangers. It could be another gang. It could be the federal army. All she knows is that her hands are tied and, body is weak and her horse is lost. Whoever is out there is probably bad news for her.
Then, the noise dies out. Hannah and Grace look at the entrance with trepidation, not sure what to expect. A desperate neigh filters from outside, and a sound of hoofs nears the stable - until Ty gallops in, followed by Mamrie and Mr. Borg pointlessly trying to calm her down. But as soon as the horse gets into the stable, she rears once and stops.
"Ty, girl!" Grace whispers, and her smile reopens the wound on her cheek.
As soon as she spots Hannah in the corner, Mamrie runs towards her and kneels down. "Hannah, thank God" Mamrie whispers as she hugs her little sister.
"Mames!" Hannah is about to start crying from the sheer relief. "How did you find us?"
"That black bitch there ran all the way to Mametown. I'm sorry it took so long, but she needed to rest before she could take us back here." She explains as she cuts the rope around Hannah's ankle and wrists. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"
"I am fine." Hannah's replies hurriedly. As soon as she is free, she grabs the knife from her sister's hands and proceeds to release Grace, who groans with every movement, her body in pain.
But two more women enter the stable, screaming in unison: "Hannah!"
"Are you okay?" One says. It's Julie, Hannah remembers her leaning against the piano at the saloon. "What have they done to you?" Clarissa asks, cupping her face as soon as Hannah stands back up. Even Chester walks in quietly, but Becky runs and pushes him aside, wrapping Hannah in a full-body hug. "We were so worried, babe." she squeaks, and Hannah is suddenly surrounded by voices asking her what happened, how she is feeling, and if she missed them at all.
Mamrie shakes her head and thank god Hannah doesn't have any broken bones - she thinks - because her girls are scrambling her mercilessly. Finally, a tall, quiet figure walks in, and drops a rifle on the ground. Hannah frees herself from the girls' attention and hobbles as fast as her body allows, still numb from the long stillness.
"Sarah..."
"Hey." Their eyes meet for a long second, and then it's just the relief of their bodes tangling again in a much needed hug. When they part, Hannah's eyes dart to the girl's lips for a second, but she is aware of the people around them. And Sarah must feel it too, because she pulls away, clasping her lips, leaving Hannah floating in a weird state of want and guilt.
"Sarah, I'm so sorry about your father." Hannah has to look away, because the her eyes are filling with tears "But we had no choice, you have to believe me."
Sarah's face changes, and her voice is suddenly cold: "I was hoping it had been someone else."
"I didn't... it was... but she had to, Sarah. Her tried to kill us!"
"She is the reason you were in jail, Hannah. She killed Woodman, we got the truth from that kid."
Hannah wants to say that she knows, and it doesn't matter now, but the sound of a trigger takes her attention. She sees that Grace managed to drag herself to Ty - the black mare stumbling as she clumsily climbs onto the saddle, hardly able to keep herself up. Then, Hannah's eye catches Chester, and his rifle pointed as Ty bolts out of the stable.
"No!" She runs to tackle him, but it's too late, the shot explodes before she can reach him.
Hannah pushes him on the ground, forcing him to drop his weapon. "Why did you do that?" Hannah screams, and punches the man's jaw with the last bit of strength left in her body. He easily pushes her away, and serves her a backhander. "She is a killer, Hannah. What is wrong with you?"
But Mamrie steps in, her rifle firmly locked between Chester's shoulder blades.
"Okay, calm down kids. Why don't we call it quits? The girl's barely alive anyway."
Chester and Hannah are still staring at each other, furious.
"Chester..." Mamrie says patiently. He takes a step back. "Only because it's you, Mames." He says, unwillingly.
Hannah's eyes meet Sarah's, who is nodding in disappointment, as if she just realised something too hurtful. She picks her rifle from the ground, and leaves the stable in silence.
"Shit." Hannah mutters, but doesn't follow her.
"The crazy bitch ran away" Julie comments breaking the awkward silence. "We got three of them, killed two, the others left."
"There you go, Ches" Mamrie comments "We found you something to do."
"What?" He asks, confused.
"These guys are obviously criminals, why don't you run after them?" Her tone is condescending at best, but Chester doesn't dare put himself up against Mamrie and her crossed armed girls, who are now teaming up around Hannah.
"Fine. I'll go back to Mametown to gather some men together." He mumbles.
- - -
Grace feels a familiar burning sensation on her back. She's made a quick assessment: the bullet pierced her side and came out, too far from her spine to cause any lethal damage. But it still hurts like a bitch, she thinks. As the blood spills, she feels the warmth leaking down her side, making her shirt damp and sticky. Her chest hurts with every bounce, but she decides that her ribs must still be intact after all. Ty slows down as she feels her owner's grip getting weaker, until she settles for a gentle trot.
She doesn't know how long she's been riding. She doesn't know where she is. Or maybe she does, there's a sound that makes everything more familiar. Water, she thinks, and the wind through the grass. The sunset is just a heavy coat of orange, it's almost as if she can see her own blood leaking onto the hills. That's disgusting, she says to herself, but oddly poetic. The pain has disappeared, replaced by a sense of weariness. She feels the world tipping, and the horizon bends slowly, but inevitably. As her body hits the ground, Grace wonders if this is how it is supposed to feel, so numb and quiet, so lonely. And then she decides that yes, it should be lonely. Death is a private matter.
She feels lighter, somehow, as if she is being lifted towards the sky. And she hears a voice singing, so sweet it must be the sounds angels make, then another one joins in. And she's floating, a scent of orange blossoms filling her lungs.
Fuck me if I am going to heaven, she thinks.
Is heaven supposed to be wet? She flips her eyes open, and flinches at the sloppy tongue licking her face.
"Beanz, what the..."
The angels stop singing, and one of them addresses her directly: "Don't move, we barely managed to patch you up."
"Han?"
The girl's sitting next to her, and she recognises the swinging movement of the caravan underneath her.
"That's my name." She confirms, smirking.
"What..."
"Chester shot you, you ran away, we followed you, picked you up, wrapped you good - in that order. We are going to San Francisco, we should be in Oakland within an hour or so."
"Yep, and then if you don't mind I'm going to leave you in my sister's capable hands" Mamrie comments from the bench where she's driving the caravan "I've got a business to run."
Grace moans as she tries to lift herself on an elbow.
"Hey! I told you not to move!" Hannah protests, chewing on some apples.
"Yeah, stay put" Mamrie confirms "Seriously Legs, you look like you've been caught up in a fight between a fireplace and a barber."
"Jeez, Red. You know how to make a girl feel pretty." Grace comments with a raspy voice.
"Hey, do you know why they call me 'sweetheart'?" Mamrie asks.
Grace raises an eyebrow towards Hannah, who giggles knowingly.
"It's fucking sarcasm!"
Mamrie laughs loudly at her own joke, and Grace rolls her eyes, smiling. But then she turn serious again, and Hannah seems to know what she is about to ask, because she says: "Ty's here, with Cheddar. You should've seen how fast he ran to get to her! I think they're in love."
Grace wants to argue that horses don't fall in love, and Oakland can't be just one hour away, and dogs shouldn't lick people's faces. Instead she just closes her eyes again, and lets the soft swinging of the caravan lull her back to sleep. She'll argue another time.
They reach the port in time to get the last boat to San Francisco. Grace can hear the two women arranging the price to get the caravan on the other side of the bay, and then saying their goodbyes.
"It's been nice to catch up, sis" Mamrie comments "I wish we had more time."
"I know, me too... But since I'm here, I'm going to restock and then do another round to the settlements."
"I'll be back in San Francisco in two weeks anyway."
"What? Why?" Hannah asks, confused.
"You know that journal you were talking about? Borg knows something about it. We'll be back when your leggy friend is feeling better."
"She says she has no idea what it is though."
"She says." Mamrie stresses with an eloquent look "But she knows where Woodman's half is. And our father had something to do with it too - Borg didn't want to tell me much, he wants to see the papers first."
"Okay, well... I'll see you at the Black Pearl then."
Mamrie gives a final hug to her little sister, and the sound of a horn tells them the boat is about to leave.
- - -
San Francisco's streets are quiet but not deserted. Hannah breaths in the atmosphere of the port, the scent of the sea, the excitement that somehow always pervades the city. It is a great time to be alive: new gold veins are being discovered everyday and there are business opportunities in every corner. Ships import all sorts of fancy goods and she always manages to buy one or two luxuries for herself. She loves San Francisco. She stops the caravan in a back alley. Grace winces at the sound of music coming from the building.
"Stay here with Grace, okay?" Hannah orders Beanz, who stares at her with her tongue hanging out, and barks once. "Good girl."
Grace can barely keep her eyes open, and soon there are hands grabbing her and moving her onto a blanket. She's pulled onto a wooden board - and then she's just floating, until there's a bed under her, and a familiar voice saying "Thank you, Pearl, I owe you one. Sorry for the bedsheets."
"Don't even mention it, Hart." Another female voice says "I'll get the doc in to patch her up, and I'll get some warm water to wash her."
"I'm sorry to ask but... do you have any food?"
"Of course! Food and water coming up."
"Thank you."
"Anytime."
Steps come closer to her bed, and Grace forces herself to open her eyes, but her vision is blurred. She sees a figure leaning over her, but can't figure out the features.
"Han?"
"Yes, it's me. Don't worry, you're safe."
Two girls come in holding a pair of trays. Hannah grabs a glass of water from one of them and raises Grace's head, bringing it to her lips. The woman takes a sip and swallows painfully. When the doctor rushes in, Hannah steps back and observes as he cuts Grace's shirt in pieces. His eyes widen at the sight of her wounds and scars.
"Dear Lord." he lets out, before proceeding to clean the blood from her skin. He works fast, his hands moving confidently over Grace's body.
"Is that whiskey, doc?" Grace asks, pointing weakly at the bottle in his bag.
"Yes, indeed."
"Do you mind?"
"Oh, not at all" he says as he passes the bottle, Grace pulls herself up a little and takes a gulp from the bottle. She scrunches her nose, and Hannah can't help remember the day she walked in the Dry Beanz and had three straight whiskeys in the early afternoon. She realises, now, she was getting loaded before killing.
"This might take a while" he warns "You can leave her with me."
Hannah wants to stay, but when she notices the doctor is about to cut the chest binder open, she grabs some bread and cheese from the tray and leaves. Several sips of whiskey later, the doctor washes his hands one final time, packs his bag and excuses himself. Hannah thanks him and walks back in.
"Do you think you can eat something?" she asks Grace.
"I think so. But no cheese."
"Why?"
"You don't want to know."
Hannah giggles, and Grace ends up smiling.
"The doc says it will take a few weeks for you to be back on your feet." Hannah says sitting on the edge of the bed "You're lucky you're still alive, Legs."
Hannah cuts a steak and offers a bite to Grace.
"You are not going to feed me again." Grace protest, but as she sits up, a grimace twists her face.
"Ok, fine. But you have to eat, so..." she quickly cuts the steak in small pieces "Here. I'll be in the next room if you need me."
Grace takes a bite and moans: "Oh my god! So good."
Hannah leaves the room, relieved.
- - -
Later, Hannah comes in to check on Grace, and finds her asleep, the plate sitting on her thighs. She puts it on the floor and places a pillow behind Grace's head, who grunts slightly. As she's about to go back to her room, a hand grabs her wrist, so weak she almost doesn't notice.
"Han."
"Yes?"
"Mmmh" Grace mumbles.
"Are you okay? Do you need anything?"
"Stay."
Hannah isn't sure she heard correctly. "What?"
"Stay with me. I promise I won't... do anything."
Hannah chuckles because yeah, she is not going to do anything at all in her condition.
"Okay. Do you want to lay down?" She asks, noticing that Grace is still in a half-sitting position. The woman nods, and they spend a few minutes trying to make her slide down causing as little pain as possible. Hannah slips in the other side of the bed. The warmth of her body and the scent of orange blossoms seem to do the trick, because Grace drifts off almost instantly.
- - -
Grace's delirium started around 4am. She'd been sweating and groaning and shivering and Hannah just stood there, wiping a wet cloth on her forehead, afraid to hold her in any way. Grace screamed and talked and looked so fragile, Hannah nearly resented the sun rising for making her pain so evident.
And now she is feeling exhausted. She could barely hold her tears back when Grace's desperate screams made the air shake. She felt powerless, unable to soothe any type of wound. Even more, she felt scared. If the woman who could shoot a man from a riding horse and knock another one unconscious with her fists looks so terrified, then Hannah doesn't really want to know what she's seeing. She feels like Grace's visions could come alive at any moment.
And she knows it's impossible, she knows she needs to keep it together now, because Grace is sinking, swallowed by something dark and thick and terrifying, and Hannah has to be there and wipe away the drops of sweats on her forehead, because maybe that's what will anchor her to their realm and bring her back from her delirious sleep.
"C'mon, babe." She finds herself whispering "Stay with me." She's said it hundreds of times already, but she repeats it, again, and maybe this will be the time Grace opens her eyes.
Eventually, she does. Grace's eyebrows part after being knitted together for the whole night, and she takes a deep, sudden breath as if she's gasping for air after a long period underwater. Hannah snaps out of the shallow sleep she fell into at the feeling of her hand being squeezed to the point of hurting, and immediately stands up from her chair.
"Grace! Grace... it's okay. You're good. It was just a nightmare."
Grace looks around, fear still transpiring from her eyes. And it seems like she finally realises where she is, and it's not the place she was dreaming of. She leans back, panting lightly.
"Grace, can you..." Hannah raises her hand, twisted in Grace's grip.
"Oh, shit, sorry." Grace says as she releases the girl's hand, and looks down at her own whitened knuckles. Hannah waves her hand in the air, trying to get rid of the numbness.
"Good God. You're strong, dude."
Grace frowns, looking confused.
"Where are we?"
"You don't remember? We arrived in San Francisco last night."
Grace shakes her head.
"We are at my good friend Pearl's saloon"
"How good of a friend is she?" Grace asks, air-quoting the word "good" and pulling a smirk.
"Very good." Hannah winks.
"Jesus, Han. Can any woman resist you?" Grace chuckles.
"I'm kidding, she's just a friend." She replies, and her eyes linger on Grace's pale lips for a moment too long. The woman clears her throat, suddenly feeling very self conscious.
"Han, can you do me a favour?"
Her eyes flip back up to meet Grace's, and she quickly nods.
"I too have a very good friend here in San Francisco, he'll take care of me... could you tell him I'm here?"