The Fire Inside

Chapter 8

The ride back from the cabin was tensely silent. John kept on casting disparaging looks at Arthur, who glared back at him. Bill seemed totally oblivious to it all.

You felt like your whole world had come crashing down. A little bit like how you felt when you'd seen your daddy's body, chucked into the cart.

The only consolation, you had, was that the gun tucked into your belt, had no bullets. At least you couldn't shoot anybody else.

And then of course there was Arthur. You were so confused, you didn't know how you felt. Its not like you could talk to anyone about it. After all, it seemed as though that's how the women of the camp behaved, and the men assumed that it was ok. Even Javier, kissing your hand by your tent the other night. You just thought he was being friendly.

By the time you got back to the Horseshoe overlook, your mind was in turmoil.

You quickly jumped off of Lily, hitched her and ran to your tent.

Arthur called after you, "Blair! Wait, come here!"

You ignored him and carried on running, until you reached your tent, quickly closing the flaps behind you.

You pulled the gun out of your belt, and threw it on the floor. You didn't want it anywhere near you.

Throwing yourself on the cot, you closed your eyes, and buried your head in the pillow. All you could see were flashbacks. The outlaw standing in the doorway, smirking whilst he pointed the gun at Arthur. The blood, which had spewed from the outlaws mouth, just before he fell to the ground dead.

You sobbed into the pillow. When you heard the raised voices of Dutch, Arthur, John and Hosea outside the tent, you covered your ears with your hands, to block it out.

You were so busy with your own inner turmoil that you didn't hear the tent flap open, or hear the person walked across to the cot where you were lying.

The first you knew about it, was when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned your head, tears still running down your face, to see Susan sitting on the edge of the cot.

She wrapped her arms around you, "It's gonna be ok, really it is," she soothed.

"I don't wanna be an outlaw," you sobbed, "I don't wanna kill no more,"

She shushed you, and patted your back, as you buried your face in her shoulder.

You heard the tent flap open. You knew who it was, before you even glanced up. The smell of his cologne, intermingled with cigars.

Dutch stood in the doorway, a look of concern on his face.

You buried your face, in Susan's shoulder, your sobbing renewed with even more vigour. Your breaths now coming in gasps.

"I don't think now's a good time, Dutch," Susan advised, as she rubbed your back, trying to calm you once again.

Dutch walked over to the cot, his scent becoming stronger, as he got closer.

"Let me," he whispered to Susan, softly.

Susan gently pushed you away, and you felt Dutch's strong arms replace hers.

You looked up at him, still sobbed, your breath coming in laboured gasps.

"I...I...Can't...Do this," you stuttered, in-between each rasping breath.

He hushed you, gently pressing your head to his chest, and stroking your hair.

"It's ok Blair, you don't have to." he soothed.