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Two piercing eyes of a wanted man stared at you from the poster you held in your hands, once again checking the provided information.
This one was a murderer, said to prey on young beautiful women to whom he, once alone, sliced their throats, then left their bodies in ditches and rivers. Some were very young, barely adults, some prostitutes he took up in the saloons, the rest damsels in distress lost in the wilderness. He would try seducing them first, luring them in as a lover only to strike as a beast; though it was unclear what his motive was. Was it vengeance? Some messed up sense of power and control?
The sheriff of Strawberry told Arthur he'd fled to the mountains once his identity was uncovered, disappearing from the towns he'd get his victims from.
Now you and Arthur were heading North. The chilly morning air grew colder on your skin the more you progressed towards the mountains with snowy caps. You had spent the night camping on the way, and had your trip's motive been forgotten, it would've made a nice retreat.
But 70 dollars was on the criminal's head, and the reward was tempting enough to try. And luckily for Arthur, you were there with him, a young woman fitting all the criteria for the perfect bait.
Not that Arthur was keen on the idea, of course.
In fact, when you first proposed it, he brushed it off as completely unimaginable, saying that if you had a death wish, you might wanna pick a different way to go than by hands of some maniac.
But you were stubborn and claimed that if he didn't allow it, you'd go alone. So, after a few mumbled curses, he reluctantly agreed.
Your plan was reasonable. The whereabouts of the killer weren't clear, and using yourself as a lure seemed smart. Especially with Arthur hiding nearby, ready to strike before you could be harmed. Just knowing he'd be close made you calmer.
You rode alongside the river, birds chirping in the trees while ducks waddled around in the shallows of the crystal clear water. You paused to take the sight in, and for a moment forgot about the paper in your hand.
The morning sunlight was gentle, enough to wake up nature after its slumber, but not too much to the point of hurting your eyes. It was perfect.
“Don' get anywhere outta my plain sight,” Arthur spoke towards you as he ruminated, worry still clouding his mind.
You softly smiled, finding his care endearing. He got into dangerous situations every day, yet couldn't stand seeing you in such circumstances. As if you weren't terrified every time he rode out.
You weren't reckless or inexperienced. You could handle a gun way before you and Arthur had even met. But it wasn't that Arthur underestimated your abilities, you knew that. He just wanted to avoid any harm done to you as much as he possibly could. Sometimes, it seemed like he valued your life more than his own.
“I'm not an amateur Arthur, not planning to get killed today either,” you reassured him kindly, knowing very well the answer would hardly calm him.
You were getting close now, and you felt as though the air had thickened with suspense. As if there was a cougar holed up in these mountains instead of a man, grazing its teeth for your flesh specifically.
You shoved the poster back in your satchel and blew warm air into your palms, your coat being barely enough to shield you from the growing coolness.
Arthur noticed and gave you another worried look. “Yer cold. Lemme give you my—”
“No, no,” you interrupted him, your focus now fixated on the hills before you. Spots of snow lay between the grass. “I think we're here. I'm actually...” you started taking your coat off, “gon' play the damsel in distress to the maximum, make myself seem vulnerable.”
You didn't even have to look at Arthur to know he was frowning.
“And won't even have to play bein' sick, if ya go like that,” he gestured towards your bare forearms with his hand, watching as you shivered. You couldn't hide a smile, moved by his concern.
“Just take my weapons, will ya?” you said as you took off your gun belt, then hopped down and grabbed the rifle from the saddle to make yourself unarmed.
“Maybe the seventy dollars ain't worth this,” he grumbled, despite taking the weapons you were handing him.
“I wonder what Dutch would say to that.” You snickered, and decided to give him your satchel as well.
“I don' care 'bout what Dutch says, I care 'bout havin' you in one piece by the end of the day.”
Your cold hands found his, covering them as you looked up into his eyes. You trembled and shivered and Arthur still thought it was a stupid idea.
“I'll tell him my dog ran off. Just don't get spotted and don't kill him unless necessary, okay?”
Arthur nodded, and when you tried pulling away to get back to your horse, he held your fingers, keeping you in place. You turned back to him, seeing not an outlaw, not a bounty hunter, just your Arthur.
Your voice softened under his troubled gaze. “We've done this before. We make a great team, remember?” You gave him a smile. “If he tries anything on me, I'll get him first. He doesn't know about the power of my right hook.”
Finally, you eluded a low chuckle from your companion as he shook his head.
“He'd be right to fear ya.”
You smiled at the change in his voice. With a squeeze of your fingers, he let you go, and you mounted your horse again. Though you converted to pants for their practicality in animal and bounty hunts long ago, you were now attired in a simple dress, as not to raise suspicion. But it did put you in bit of an inconvenience.
“Ya should still wear smthn', don' need blue lips to bait him,” Arthur protested at your shivering form.
“You can kiss those lips back to pink after we're done here, cowboy,” you said playfully, getting nothing but a huff in return. You promised yourself to properly snuggle him later.
Your horse neighed as you set him in a trot, a lane of fresh snow before you, two lines of hoove prints trailing behind you. You couldn't make out any paths, so your best bet was just getting the man's attention, wherever he was hiding.
“Finch! Hey, Finch!” you shouted a name of your imaginary dog. You didn't even have to feign the trembling in your voice as the coldness seeped into your body. Still, you coiled on the horseback, making yourself look small. Small and helpless.
“Finch, boy!” The cold air irritated your throat.
At the same time, Arthur snuck like a shadow just a few meters behind you, taking covers behind anything he could. The snow made it slightly more difficult.
He hoped the criminal would be at least a bit eccentric, taking time with his harmless victims. Though if he just as much inflicted a sliver of pain on you, you two probably wouldn't get the whole 70 dollars for bringing him alive.
The breeze felt sharp as it blew in your face, turning your skin redder with every blow. Snow softly cracked under your horse's hooves as you got deeper into the mountains.
“Finch! Where are you?” A fit of cough interrupted you as the cold dry air scratched at the walls of your throat. Your heart beat wildly in your chest and you held your breath, when finally...
Noise came from behind a rock and shortly you found yourself face to face to a man on his black horse. The recognition was immediate—the picture from the poster had come to life. Dark eyes and blonde curls, contrasting with each other just as much as his kind voice opposed his intentions. Russel Graham in the flesh.
“Ma'am. Are you alright?” he spoke in a deep smooth voice. Your stomach flipped as you imagined how many women had heard that voice as the very last thing before they died. His gaze was unwavering.
“I lost my dog. He... he ran off into these mountains somewhere.” You paused as you swallowed, your body still shaking. “If wolves get to him, I...” You trailed off and feigned a sob, rubbing your palms for warmth.
“You're freezing, ma'am, let me give you a coat first,” he interrupted you, taking off his own coat and getting close enough to hand it to you. You accepted it with an appreciative nod.
“Thank you.” You draped it over your shoulders, resisting the revulsion it brought you to have his clothes touching you.
“So, you're looking for your your dog? What does he look like?”
“Brown American Foxhound.” White vapor escaped your lips as you exhaled, and you briefly looked up at the sun shining through the tree crowns. “He's very dear to me.”
“I'll help you look for your dog, ma'am.”
He's baited alright. Now he was trying to bait you.
“But you look worn out. I'm camping nearby, let's warm up first,” he added.
You nodded and soon followed the criminal toward his hide. You reminded yourself that Arthur was somewhere near.
“Thank you, Mister...”
“Hartley,” he uttered without looking back. Of course he'd use a fake name.
“Mister Hartley. Name's Maisie.” You hadn't used the name before.
“Miss Maisie. Yer lucky I was hunting 'round here. You wouldn't believe what hides in these mountains.”
Oh, you knew quite well.
You only hummed in response, staying in the man's tail.
Once you finally arrived, an opened bed roll next to a crackling fire and a few things lying around, you took note of your surroundings. The area was shielded by big rocks from above and one side, but other than that, it was pretty much open and there wasn't really a good hiding spot.
Arthur would have to hide a bit further, potentially taking longer to arrive when needed.
You took a deep breath as you encouraged yourself, moving your frozen fingers and toes to be ready to act when things go down. The cold air was still biting.
Graham helped you down and his gloved hands remained on your hips longer than you'd like. He studied your face, so you did the same. There was a little cut above his left eyebrow, and a wild little look growing in his eyes.
When he stepped away, you curiously looked around, acting naive while still having him in your peripheral vision.
“Let me make you coffee, miss. Are you new to this area?” He crouched down to get the coffee ready and you slightly relaxed as his gaze swayed away from you.
“Yes, sir. I have relatives near Strawberry, wanted to help them with their animals. Moved here just a few days ago.” You instinctively walked to the opposite side of the fire.
Graham nodded. You took a quick glance at the knife behind his belt. You remembered very clearly what sheriff told Arthur when he picked up the poster. A sliced neck. Every single time.
“The nature's a real beauty 'round here, but I reckon it's better not to wander too far from the town. It's dangerous.”
You forced a smile, pulling the man's coat tighter around your body. You still trembled.
“I wouldn't come here if Finch hadn't ran this way. He's the only one I have from home—”
“Please, sit.” The man gestured toward the blankets next to the campfire. He was growing impatient. Maybe the law being onto him put him on edge.
“Oh, sir...” You hesitated, looking down at the fire. “I'm really scared for him, I must find him before a wolf or a bear does.”
“You won't do much if you freeze,” Graham countered, handing you a cup of hot coffee. “Sit for a while, then we'll go looking.”
You didn't like how pushy he was. But you still had a moment of surprise on your side.
Though you complied to his request, and sat down at the fire with coffee in your hands, your insides felt like a taut string, adrenaline bubbling underneath. He had you in a vulnerable position. In a place like this, you doubted he would try to seduce you—and he already had you alone—which meant he might cut this short.
“What a beautiful day, you were lucky not to run into a snowstorm,” he said as he got up and looked up at the sky, seemingly in thought, walking up behind you.
Your back was toward the opening, where hopefully Arthur waited. He would never let anything happen to you.
“Yes. Thank you for having me here, sir, you're very kind.” You hid any disdain from your voice. You sipped on your coffee, while he most likely already imagined the pale snow stained with your crimson blood.
“Don't mention it. I'm thrilled to be here with you, ma'am.”
Everything in you stiffened and filled with nausea. The string within you was about to snap—something in the air changed. The man's steps stopped behind you.
With held breath, you cocked your head to the side and saw light reflected against metal, held in a black-gloved hand.
It was less than split of a second that you turned and rolled to your back, kicking the knife and throwing the contains of the cup to where you guessed his face would be.
The coat fell off of you, and the hot liquid burnt your arm as you shielded your face, but it got him too. An angry yell echoed against the walls, accompanied by a clink of the knife against the ground.
With all the strength you had in your cold body, you kicked him in the stomach, making him stumble back. You were at disadvantage, lying on the ground, but at this point it didn't matter anymore.
“Arthur!”
But before the name even left your lips, Russel Graham had already found himself in an iron grip.
Arthur held him from behind, a frown on his face as he shoved him to the ground and pinned him down, tying his wrists together. He moved confidently and swiftly.
“Yeah, you ain't touching her, you bastard,” Arthur growled, a tone you didn't hear from him often.
“You son of a bitch!” the man yelled, writhing on the ground. Arthur hit his face before tying his ankles.
You were still sat up on the ground, stunned from the shock of what just happened. The fear drained away from your body with a chilling aftershock.
Your body was freezing, except for the burning red mark on your arm. But that was the least of your worries.
When Arthur was done, he stood up and left him squirming on the ground like a worm, turning his focus to you instead.
“You al'right?” He offered you his very warm hand and pulled you up to your feet. You didn't let go right away.
“Yeah. He didn't get me.”
“Here.” Arthur took off his coat and helped you take it on. You were surprised by how quickly he could turn tender when it came to you.
“I'm still gonna kill you, you whore!” Graham reminded himself with a sharp angry tone. He looked quite pathetic rather than threatening now, lying tied up on his stomach like that.
“You ain't killin' nobody, you piece of shit,” Arthur countered harshly, leaning down to pick him body up and swinging him over his shoulder.
“The law will deal with you, Mister Graham,” you remarked, a small satisfied smile tugging at your lips. Even though you were cold and a little ruffled up, this was a success alright.
While Arthur whistled for his horse and stowed the atrocious man on the back, you walked up to the black horse who had been watching the whole situation unfold.
“What about you? You don't wanna stay here, do you?” you spoke in a softer tone, patting the horse on the neck. “Come on, be nice and we'll get you to the stables. You'll get rid of that brute.”
You took the rains and walked towards Arthur who eyed you worriedly.
“You sure you're 'kay?”
“Yes, Arthur, I'm sure. I'll be even better when we get somewhere warmer.”
“Don' worry, we're goin' straight to Strawberry.” He nodded toward you. “You takin' that horse?”
“You maggots, I have bought that horse!” the criminal yelled. Both of you ignored him, which seemed to offend him further.
“Yeah, can't let him freeze here.”
Arthur nodded. Then he mounted his horse and returned his attention to the bounty. “I don' reckon you'll need a horse where you're goin'.”
Thankfully, the black horse was friendly. He let you ride him, your own mare following right behind once you reached the edge of the mountains where she waited.
“You'll regret this!” the man shouted.
“Yeah, that's what they all say,” Arthur said scornfully. “Killin' women? Ain't that pathetic.”
“You've got no idea how good it feels, to have those sweet creatures turn lifeless before you.” He was probably just spurring his capturer on.
“Spare me of the details,” Arthur grumbled.
“You'll have a whole audience watching you swing now. Ain't that fun?” you chimed in, feeling cocky with how the situation turned around.
“You better stay quiet, whore,” his tone was much rougher than before, “Such a shame I didn't get to slash your pretty ne—”
Arthur hit his face. “One word. One. Word.”
Graham actually shut up at the hostile warning.
“We need him alive, Arthur.”
“Yeah, but not necessarily conscious and with his bones in tact.”
You smiled, trotting alongside Arthur as the sun's warmth finally started spreading into your body.
“Alright, but his face has to be recognisable.”
Arthur gave you a little silent look, and you knew you calmed him down a little. You always managed to.
You galloped through the meadows, the bounty giving up on his occasional tantrums the closer you got to town. Arthur inconspicuously checked on you every now and then, as if you didn't notice his little searching glances.
Then finally you could see the town and soon enough it followed with the creaking of wagons and chirping of people. Those standing nearby took curious glances at the man strapped at the back of Arthur's horse.
‘Welcome to Strawberry’, the sign above said. A quaint tourist town.
Both of you stopped before the cubic building, ‘JAIL’ in big letters on the wall. Russel Graham tried his last frail attempts at bargaining for his freedom, but there was no way to escape his fate now.
Arthur carried the man inside the sherrif's office, maybe a bit more roughly than necessary, and you remained waiting outside, just hopping off to stretch your sore body.
You weren't freezing anymore, but the chill remained settled in your bones, and you still nestled in Arthur's coat. You did feel tired, though.
The place had lots of green, and you liked that; it fit right into the landscape, like a picteresque heart of it. Very charming. Very cozy. Some kind of preacher rambled on, somewhere near.
Arthur was just shoving the stack of bills in his satchel when he emerged, his step confident.
“Got it?” You touched his forearm without realising.
“Got it.” He looked at you from below his hat. “We got the rest of the day free, I reckon.”
You nodded. “Definitely.”
You both knew what that meant—a hot bath, proper meal and a warm shared bed. The best part of these trips.
The stables were at the outskirts of town. You rode over the bridge overlooking a waterfall, one that could be looked at for hours. The black horse did earn you a few extra bucks.
It was even warmer inside the hotel. You waited just a few minutes before the bath was ready, and you took the time to take in the interior. Red wallpapers made the room look even dimmer, and it complemented the rustic decoration. It was big on a hunting theme: A large bear by the entrance, chandelier made of antlers, rocks, and interestingly branched wooden railings. The burning fireplace added onto the cosiness. You assumed the place worked as the tourist center.
Arthur led you up the stairs, warmth growing on your lower back where his hand rested. He held the door open for you, and the smell of soap and lavender hit you.
The bathroom was quite homely, with the same red wallpapers and pale light dimly illuminating the room. You immediately relaxed when the door shut behind you.
Fighting the silly blush on your cheeks was basically pointless. Arthur shuffled on his feet.
“You go first, I guess,” you mumbled and immediately felt ridiculous for how awkward you were. You had done this before but it was the same every time. These situations weren't your strongest suit, and his neither.
So you walked to the window to absent-mindedly watch the street, when Arthur undressed.
After a few moments, the water softly splashed against the walls of the tub. Your head turned to see Arthur settling underneath all the foam, his naked shoulders above it. There was another thing accompanying the pink flush on your cheeks; a little feeling of excitement seemingly jumping around within you.
Your chilled body craved the hot water, and your stomach coiled at the sight of your lover. You knew that nothing would separate you from him until after the water turns cold.
Arthur closed his eyes and leaned his head back, arms stretched over the edges of the tub.
You quietly slipped out of all your clothes and walked over, your heart making two beats for every step you'd make. You submerged and sat on the opposite side, every single negative thought forgotten as your muscles loosened. All the work was so worth this.
“Thank you for not letting me die today,” you broke the silence, a small timid smile on your face. Arthur opened his eyes and looked at you, failing to keep a straight face.
“I'd rather have you not riskin' like that next time.”
“Sure, let's have you be a bait next time.” You started shifting towards him. “Or better yet, hunt for rabbits instead.”
Arthur chuckled, not taking his eyes off you. “Or maybe I just won't let ya go anywhere away from me.”
With that you settled onto his body, your own mellowing at how nice it felt to have him against you. As if even your bones were melting, and you'd soon fuse together.
Your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. You didn't wanna get into any dirty business, as you were both tired and grimy, but that didn't wipe the red hue off your face. You pretended that you weren't flustered at all; he couldn't see the blush on your face if you rest your head on his shoulder.
His rough hand found your back, and he touched you so gently, as if he thought you to be fragile. Your eyes closed; the more comfortable you were, the sleepier you got.
The room was quiet, with muffled sounds from the outside and Arthur's breathing. His heartbeat rhythmically thumped against your own.
“You did a good job today,” he suddenly uttered into your ear and it woke you from your daze.
“Did I?” You couldn't help but smile. God knows why you liked hearing him praise you so much.
“Uh-mm. The best actress I've seen.” His palm slid over your spine in circles. You lifted your head to meet his eyes.
“Don't overrate me,” you nudged playfully, beaming.
But he carried on with a lively twinkle in his eyes. “That kick was smthn' too. Guy's lucky you didn't aim for his teeth.”
A lighthearted laugh left your lips and you leaned closer.
“You did well too, Mr Morgan,” you murmured, a bit of sensuality in your voice. You couldn't overlook that little crooked smile, or the way he briefly looked away, not knowing how to take the compliment.
His chest heaved against yours and his fingers lazily trailed up your spine to your nape.
“And what was it about kissing your lips back to color?” he reminded, to your surprise, and now it was your turn to get flustered.
You didn't like his gaze studying you so closely, so you did the only thing that crossed your mind; your lips collided with his a little clumsily, and your stomach did a few inept twists.
Arthur's lips moved against yours, so gently it made you lose your goddamn mind. He pulled you even closer, and your heart skipped a beat when he let out a pleased hum. His lips were soft and warm, and you slightly opened your mouth.
It was a little risky; his heated body tempted you, and every little touch turned your thoughts into a cloud of vapor. All those bottled up feelings were now free to surge through, and if you were hot before, you were now on fire.
Your heart tried to keep up with all the senses stirring in your body, your pulse quickening. Strange chills danced in place where his palm now rested on your back, while your stomach grew hotter; but then he moved his hand lower.
Way lower.
“Arthur,” you whispered when you broke the kiss, barely any space between you two.
Your own mind inquired why you couldn't just straddle his lap and...
You cleared your throat. “Everyone would hear us,” you said with a dry mouth, partly to convince Arthur, partly to convince yourself.
“Sure,” he agreed with lack of air in his voice, and the way he watched you made your head dizzy again. His gaze was so soft, and admiration was written all over it. He made it so hard to focus. His hand slid back up to between your shoulder blades.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Clueless.
“Like that.” You shook your head.
Grabbing some soaped water, you rubbed it in Arthur's hair, leaving foam where you brushed fingers through the strands. His eyes opened with surprise, but the amused chuckle he let out had no trace of protest in it.
It was quiet, peaceful.
“Why do you tag along with me like that?”
That question caught you off guard, as it came all of a sudden. But knowing Arthur, he probably had it in his mind for a while now.
You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?” you said as a matter of fact. Wasn't it as clear to him as it was to you?
Where else would I be?, you thought, but didn't say out loud.
Arthur looked away, and you still washed his hair.
“It gets ya into dangerous situations.”
“But I get to be with you, don't I?” You searched for understanding in his eyes. “Alone.”
You caressed the nape of his neck. “Besides, it's better than just sitting around.” You squinted your eyes. “I ain't a saint either, y'know? I was far from it long before we met.”
“Hmh,” he grumbled, but a smile emerged on his face, and you felt relief. Perhaps knowing you're not doing it just for him made him feel better.
“Not that I'm complaining 'bout spending alone time with ya.”
“You better not,” you mumbled with a smile and kissed Arthur's cheek without thinking, and he paused. He never expected it. Such a sweetheart.
You took turns cleaning each other, exchanging shy smiles and stolen kisses, while you tried remaining reserved. No words could describe how safe you felt with him, in all ways a person could feel safe.
You liked to trace his little scars in these moments, wondering about the stories behind them. His skin was red from the hot water, and the scars remained light. You liked kissing the scar on his chin, and he could never not smile when you did.
Then, Arthur kissed a little red bruise on your neck, and that almost crossed the line for you.
Save it, you thought.
You spent a long time in that tub; by the time you were leaving, you felt as clean as you haven't in a long time. Both of you got in spare clothes you had brought, and Arthur now stood before you in a shirt that was your favorite.
You mumbled something about how handsome he was, and how he ought to wear his black chaps over his jeans, a little grin on your face. He laughed and shook his head; like he hadn't already heard that from you before.
You headed to the rented room that was just next door, the same red wallpapers and a rustic feel to it. Now it was time for the food you got acquired the way, and you realised just how hungry you were.
“You should chew more,” Arthur commented on your eating manner, amused.
You lifted your eyes to meet his. “Worry 'bout yourself.”
But he was right—you felt a bit sick later, when you sprawled on the motel bed. On your back, fighting the sleepiness. It still couldn't defeat the happy, satisfied feeling in you that quivered all over your insides.
Arthur sat on a padded chair and scribbled something in his journal. You turned your head to look at him.
“Don't tell me you're drawing the guy.”
“No, of course not,” Arthur scoffed, as if offended. “I'm drawing you, in the bath tub,” he added, holding back a crooked grin.
“What?” You sat up abruptly, got off the bed and walked over, peeking at the opened pages.
The drawing was a scenery that you'd seen today.
“Idiot,” you grumbled, hearing him laugh despite it.
You turned around to return to bed, but Arthur reached over and his hand gently touched fingers. You turned back around with a softer look.
“How do you remember things so well, anyway?” You really couldn't play annoyed at him for too long.
He wrapped his arm around you when you sat on his lap, still holding the journal in his other hand.
“I don' know, it's just easy for me,” he answered absently.
He had pretty eyes; pale moss-green spilling into the rippled azure blue. His skin still smelled of soap and all you wanted was to snuggle up and nuzzle his neck.
Finally, you rested your head over his collarbone and let him finish his drawing, with his arms loosely encircling you.
“Are ya tired?” His voice stirred you from your trance.
“A little,” you lied.
It took a few more minutes before he was finished and closed the journal, placing it beside him. You had your eyes closed but felt his movements. The little hesitance of when he wondered what to do with you, before gently picking you up and laying you down on the bed.
From the previous fervor was nothing left; your mind was a fuzzy mess and all you recognised was that you're safe and comfortable. When the mattress dented as Arthur lay down beside you, when his arms ptotectively enveloped you, when you felt his lips on your forehead in a soft kiss.
You snuggly settled against Arthur's chest, and were lulled to sleep by his calm heartbeat. Oblivious to just how happy Arthur was—how happy you made him—and how much you soothed all his pain that he carried all these years.
Arthur pulled you closer, and fell asleep beside you.