Word Count: 2,702
Archive: DarkMagick.net, Apollymi’s Grimoire, and Archive of Our Own. Anyone else wanting it, please ask first. I’ll probably say yes, but ask first…[endsection]
If nothing else, the ride to Junction City gave Goodnight plenty of time to think on the past. It also gave him ample opportunity to question his memories and wonder if there was something he had missed over the years prior to their split, but he’d long grown used to self-loathing introspection.
No matter how much he loved and trusted Billy, there were some secrets he chose to keep. Most of them were his own, of course, but there were a few of Joshua’s that he doubted the younger knew he was still keeping locked up tight.
Secrets like Goodnight recognized full well that the bruises his baby brother sported oftentimes as a child weren’t from playing too rough, because he had worn more than a few of the same himself.
Secrets like Goodnight would feel his blood freeze in his veins any time he’d turn around as a teenager and his little shadow wasn’t behind him, especially when he knew goddamn well that Monsieur Robicheaux was at home.
Secrets like Goodnight didn’t kill the old bastard sooner only because he was worried that Maman would fall under suspicion, since it would have been unheard of for the slaves or indentured servants or children to do such a thing.
Secrets like Goodnight had argued with Monsieur Robicheaux the day the man decided they were joining the army, and that he’d been very careful with his left side when signing his life away under the bastard’s watchful eye.
Secrets like, when Monsieur Robicheaux contracted dysentery on the campaign march, Goodnight hadn’t hesitated to mix a little oleander into the bastard’s canteen to make sure death came for him that much faster.
Secrets like Goodnight continued to have nightmares wherein he deserted and rushed back to St. Martinville only to find out upon arriving that Joshua had died from the yellow fever as well rather than bounce back the way he had in reality.
Secrets like Goodnight also had nightmares wherein he called out to his brother over the battlefield only to be answered by a ringing silence.
Secrets like Goodnight had honestly, truthfully hoped that reconciliation was possible when he’d received that letter from Joshua two years back, only to wait in Carson City for six weeks before having to kill three men — Billy’d taken down four of his own — and make tracks without setting eyes on his brother.
He still didn’t rightly know if it had been genuine or if it had been an ambush, but the letter had been Joshua’s handwriting. And given their reunion, it looked a lot less like the former was anywhere on his brother’s mind.
But that was okay. It was fine. Goodnight would follow through on Chisolm’s mission, and then he and Billy would slide back into the world again.
Maybe this time he would be able to leave all of the past behind.
There were days that Joshua thanked God he wasn’t skilled in medicine… or else he might give into the urge to take a knife to the blood vessel behind his right eye that alway wanted to throb with every hangover. Hair of the dog did a lot to dim the sensation, and he was most assuredly liberally applying it.
Today was easier than yesterday. For starters, Rocks was no longer riding between him and little Teddy Q… and little Teddy Q between Rocks and Goodnight. He might have been able to handle them trying to separate the two of them—the better to avoid more fistfights, after all—but there was no cause for Rocks to separate him from Teddy as well as Goodnight. Yeah, he might have given some thought to sewing the boy’s mouth shut, but it wasn’t like he had followed through on the thought.
At least that hadn’t carried over to today’s ride. Goodnight and he were still on opposite sides of the group, but Rocks was next to Goodnight and Teddy was next to him. And he was applying additional cheap whiskey to a cheap whiskey hangover. So far, so good: it was helping. And they had to almost be on top of Junction City by now, seeing as how they’d been riding since dawn and had covered some good ground before full dark last night as well.
They made it over another hill, and he could see three horses first of all: Chisolm’s big black chestnut, Miss Emma’s palomino, and a pale one that was new to Joshua, either white or light grey or some combination of the two. It was probably only thanks to his hangover that he heard the quiet whistle that was obviously a signal to the other people in the camp, because it set that blood vessel behind his right eye to throbbing again.
The closer they got, the easier it was to tell that the figure under the tree was Sam Chisolm, while the one bustling up from the little creek the campsite was next to was Miss Emma. The third person, the one half behind that flea bitten grey horse—now that he was close enough to see the color—he couldn’t see well enough to identify. He got the impression of a lean man, with at least two guns, a white shirt, a dark vest, sinfully well-fitted black trousers, and a dose of paranoia that was perhaps heavier than normal, given the hand hovering just above a hip-holstered pistol and wariness written large throughout his body. Who in the hell had Chisolm found to help them in this fool’s quest, and what the hell had he told him about what was going on?
But none of that really mattered too much when Goodnight was breaking away from the group to greet Chisolm in what had to be the loudest voice he could possibly manage: “Sam Chisolm! Aren’t you a sight to see with the storm on our backs?” Chisolm returned the greeting by name as Goodnight dismounted and moved over to him, the pair of them louder than seemed wise.
Rocks was glaring at Goodnight, even as he slid off his horse and started fussing with his tack… Never mind that, he was fussing with both of their tacks. Even little Teddy Q was sliding off his horse and sidling over towards Miss Emma, followed quickly enough by Goodnight. And that was his cue to all but fall off of Jack, the horse sidestepping just a little to help keep him upright.
“I see you manage to convince Goodnight to come after all,” Chisolm commented dryly, only a little less friendly with him than he had been with Goodnight… though certainly a good deal less effusive. “Though I must say I wasn’t expecting the other addition.”
He shrugged. “Goodnight weren’t leaving without him. Besides, Rocks seems to be a fair hand with those pigstickers.” The compliment was begrudgingly given, but he certainly wasn’t going to lie about anything here if he could help it. “How did you do?”
Chisolm gestured a bit in the direction of the final person in their camp. “See for yourself.”
He turned for a better look at the other person, now taking full note of everything about him: at least as tall as Joshua himself was, wearing a black leather vest over the white shirt he had noted earlier, silver buttons on the vest, silver spurs, those two flashy guns he’d noticed before as well, a deep red sash tied around his waist, dragging the eye down to those trousers that had gotten his attention so quickly and thoroughly before… all of which added up to precisely one thing.
“Oh good, we got ourselves a Mexican,” he muttered under his breath, before his brain caught up to his libido and noted one more small but ever so crucial detail: the man had a darkly handsome face… that bore entirely too many similarities to one he had only recently been checking out on a wanted poster. “You brought the bounty along with? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Chisolm, what the hell were you thinking?”
“That we might need something a little… outside the law on this, taking down a man like Bogue.”
“What the hell did you promise him? That he’d have two bounty hunters off his back for helping?”
“No, not at all, Mister Robicheaux… Joshua, if I may…” Chisolm said magnanimously, conveniently ignoring how the outlaw seemed to lose a few shades of color from his face, as well as how his hands were suddenly approximately a mile away from his guns as they crossed over his chest. Clearly, someone had heard the rumors about how exactly Joshua’s bounties kept ending up dead then and what had precipitated those turns of events. “I only promised I would forget all about his bounty, seeing as I’m the one that managed to find him in the first place. I certainly would never want to speak out of turn on your behalf, after all.”
God, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough for any of this shit. Chisolm turned from him, taking a few steps over towards where Goodnight and Billy were setting up a small camp. Gabriel Vasquez… Jesus Christ… Well, Chisolm could have picked a lot of worse criminals to recruit for this little endeavor. All Vasquez had done was kill a Ranger, and frankly, every single Ranger that Joshua had ever met had needed a little bit of killing. Five hundred dollars worth of guns would have been nice, if impractical for transportation purposes, but a deft extra gun hand would go a long way as well.
And besides, he might end up needing someone to talk to on this little suicide run that wasn’t Miss Emma and little Teddy. He would be damned if he went groveling back to Goodnight for attention anytime soon if he ended up needing it, after all.
If Sam Chisolm were a more conniving man, Joshua might suspect that he had set this all up somehow. Bring a bounty in on this and promise not to turn him in, only to ‘forget’ to mention the second bounty hunter in the group, who might or might not turn him in instead, maybe even spotting Chisolm part of the money as a finder’s fee of sorts. Hell, part of him was half sure that this had been part of Chisolm’s endgame, bringing a wanted man along, but then, he freely admitted to being a bit more paranoid than the average person should be. It had kept him alive on his own for years. On a more annoying note, he was nearly one hundred percent certain that Chisolm had sent him after Goodnight for the sole purpose of seeing what would happen, and that pissed him off at the older man all over again.
“I’ll call that bet, Chisolm,” he called over at Chisolm’s back, watching and smiling with some measure of vindictive glee as the older man stiffened and then whipped around to stare at him in unadulterated shock. He addressed the rest of what he had to say at Vasquez, though he did make sure he kept the other three men in his line of sight, even as he pitched his voice to just him and Vasquez: “We survive this shit, and I won’t go after that bounty either, my hand to God.” He tucked the bottle of liquor under his arm and stuck a hand out as friendly as a man could be, while visibly carrying three guns… and hiding another on his person… and had a Winchester rifle stuck in a holster on their saddle right behind them… and a knife on them. “Joshua Faraday. Pleased to meet you.”
When Goodnight finally decided to turn his attention back to the world around him, he was almost surprised to find Billy riding next to him. He may have been sleepwalking that morning, but the previous day when they’d set out, his lover had placed himself between Joshua and young Teddy, keeping him as far from his brother as possible. He had assumed that Billy would do the same once they were on the trail today, but it looked like he was mistaken.
Young Teddy wasn’t saying anything, thank God. Or if he was, then Goodnight was doing a grand job of ignoring him. And Joshua appeared to be drinking still, just the same as the last time and every other time he’d been paying attention during this damned trip. Thankfully they were nearly to Junction City, and if he knew Chisolm, then it would be outside the town rather than in the middle of the main thoroughfare.
And wouldn’t you know it, when they crested the hill, Goodnight spotted three horses grazing near a copse of trees, with three people-shaped figures settled around the largest of the trees. He let an affable, Goodnight Robicheaux, Hero and Legend, smile slide over his features, and he could feel Billy glaring at him. The other man hated the facade, but it had suited him well over the years; he could be the bastard when people actually managed to cross him
“Sam Chisolm!” he called once they were close enough to be heard, and ignored Joshua completely. Chances were good the boy was too drunk to really have anything polite to say. “Aren’t you a sight to see with the storm on our backs?”
“Well, now, the rain ain’t over yet,” Chisolm replied. “And I reckon the storm will be on us sooner rather than later.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Goodnight mused, climbing off his mare and moving to greet the other man with a friendly hug; he knew well that they really weren’t much more than somewhat amicable strangers, but none of the men with him knew that, and the Cajun was never going to let his brother know the truth of the matter. He stepped back and nodded towards Billy. “This here’s my companion, Billy Rocks. He could be of some help on this endeavor, I hope.”
Billy gave a nod to Chisolm, moving to remove some of the tack from their horses to let them rest for a few moments before they were to set out again. Young Teddy slipped from his own mount and bustled to the woman, and Goodnight rolled his eyes.
Not out in the big wide world alone, after all. Firmly attached to a mother-figure’s apron strings instead, he thought meanly.
Instead of saying so, he nodded towards the woman and asked Chisolm, “Who’s this?”
“Our employer, Missus Emma Cullen.”
Well, well, well… It wasn’t often that he saw a woman out on the trail like this, and if the situation was one that Chisolm had called upon him for, it was likely that a vendetta of some manner was in effect. He thought it possible that he might get along with this woman famously.
“Enchante, ma cher,” Goodnight greeted, still all Louisiana charm. Obviously uncertain as to what to expect, the young widow accepted his handshake. “Your hands are cold, Emma. You nervous?”
If she was a cautious woman, this Miss Emma would have denied the accusation; if she was a fool, she would have boasted that she was afraid of nothing. Instead, Miss Emma proved to have nerves of steel by making no reply at all.
Goodnight’s smile slipped from affable charm to something more real, with a bit more world-weariness to it. “Don’t be,” he advised. “We will help you seek that which you are due, or my name’s not Goodnight.”
When she offered a small smile of her own in reply, something fragile and broken but still hardened in spite of or perhaps because of her pain, he nodded slightly and moved to where Billy was settling in by the fire to steal a bit of food. Goodnight’s gaze fell onto the other party in the small camp and wondered absently why the man looked vaguely familiar.
It was only when his brother started hassling Chisolm about a bounty that he realized the stranger was a fugitive. And he wondered to himself what manner of army his old “friend” was building around him.
A Grey who just wants to kill his past, a Korean who puts up with far too much of my bullshit, a Blue with his own vendetta, my drunken and mean as hell brother, a Mexican outlaw, a young woman likely seeking revenge, and the little boy trailing in her shadow. We are a party of dead men unless Chisolm actually has a goddamn plan here.
[section=Footer Notes]21 January 2017So this chapter actually had to be divided in half. The first and third section here are by Katsuko, while the middle one is me. This is going to be happening a lot more frequently as we progress through the remaining story.
~Adora[endsection]