In the Hands of Outlaws

Chapter Four

It was a relatively short ride because of how peaceful it was. There were no gunshots, no outlaws or thieves, it was just trails and roads until they breached the end of a town.

"This is Farmington. Small farmin' town. Will do good for medicine though. How's your hip?"

Draco shifted, letting out a low groan as he did so. "Moving is- moving is bad."

Harry grimaced. "Alright. I'll brace myself at your left, and you can just hobble with your right. I'd leave you here but... Well, just because it's a farming town don't mean it's safe. Can't risk leaving you without protection."

Fighting the urge to protest, Draco nodded. He knew Harry was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He was in no state to defend himself- especially not from the rugged looking farmers lumbering around the streets, looking drunker than a boar who'd gotten into the whiskey.

Harry slung Dracos left arm around his shoulders, holding another arm around his waist after hitching his horse. The blond shuddered from the feeling of Harry's strong hands gripping onto his right hip almost threateningly, but also protectively. He didn't know what to think about it, so he didn't. Seemed like a simple solution and it worked, so Draco was burden free- other than the giant bullet hole and the feeling that the entire wound was drenched in acid and alcohol, and then had a match thrown at it.

"You doing okay? You're panting somethin' awful," Harry noted, frowning. Draco grit his teeth.

"I'm- Fuck, I'm fine."

"Do you need me to carry you?"

"I'm fine," Draco repeated, more forcefully, and Harry chuckled, raising his free hand up as if to surrender.

"Whatever you say, doll."

Draco hated him for that, but talking hurt so he let himself suffer in silence. Harry guided him into a general good store, tipping his head at the owner. "Eve'nin. You got any antibiotics? Rubbin alcohol? Something else of the sorts?"

"Over to the left, against the corner there. You fellas alright?"

"Just a wound," Harry said, helping the blond lean against the wall before sifting through some medical supplies, not looking up as he asked "know where we can pick up clothes 'round here?"

"Mother June makes some, down at the saloon. Softest material I ever did feel."

"Thanks. I'll take this."

Harry saddled up next to Draco, dropping a few supplies onto the counter. The store owner blinked. "Did you look at the prices, sir?"

"I've got plenty to afford it. How much is it total?"

"This will be... thirty-seven dollars. The war is draining supplies fast, they're awful hard to come by now-a-days."

"Aye, I bet. Thank you, you have a good day now mister," Harry said, taking his stuff and shoving them into the satchel he had brought.

"Thirty-seven? Why did they act like that was a lot?" Draco asked, his brows furrowed.

"So the Malfoys are rich, I take it? Make dozens by the hour? Here, you get paid by the hour in cents. You have to work for almost two months to get that much 'round this town."

Draco blinked, frowning. "But... How do they pay for bills? Food?"

"They don't have to buy food- they live on a farm." Harry helped Draco down the stairs, trying to ignore the way the blond flinched. "Bills are cheap out in the country. Any town producing nessecities- food, water filtration, coal, precious stones- they get their bills cut down. They pay near nothin', other than keeping other stuff stocked. Saddles, farmin' equipment, water filters, stuff like that."

"Water filters?"

"Hell, you're more clueless than I thought. You might have a hard time adjusting to life out here, darling."

"Luckily, I won't have to adjust because I'll be going back to my father's manor."

Harry grimaced. "That may take a while."

"Well why? I could just buy a train ticket and go home!"

"Morvolo wouldn't have kidnapped you if you didn't have value. He'll be tracking you down like a bloodhound on a lamb. If he wants you, he won't stop at nuh'thin to get you. Why would a ravenous gang out in the west want you, anyways? Sure you're rich or whatever, but they don't go for the rich for no reas'n."

Draco gnawed his bottom lip, thinking. There really wasn't anything spectacular about him or his family- they owned a few hundred ranches across the country, Maine and the Dakotas being some of the few without ranches lined up by the dozen, but they weren't involved in anything vile- that he knew of.

"I don't know," Draco answered with an honest shrug. "My father is the fourth richest man in New York, but other than that, I can't think of anything else."

Harry exhaled sharply out his nose. "The only thing I can think of is blackmail. Holding a powerful man's son captive takes a lot of power out of the father's hands- no matter how rich he is."

Draco took a moment to scoff. "Father wouldn't care if I were killed. Hold me captive and he'll say 'kill him if you want, he's worthless to me anyways' or something along the lines. Well, he'll say that until I get a successful plot trade. This was supposed to be that trade, but..." Draco sighed. "I got shot and kidnapped twice. Unless I get that trade sorted out, I'd rather be killed than go back to my father."

Harry didn't answer.

"Do you have a mum?" He finally asked, looking over at the blond, who looked confused.

"I- Yes, I do. She was... It was an arranged marriage. Mother says I'm the only thing worth living with father for. She'd rather be on the streets that live with him."

"What's it like?"

"Why are you going on about my parents? Don't you have other things to worry about?" Draco was frustrated with himself for giving up information on his life so easily. He had no reason to trust Harry and his vile gang.

Harry stiffened, his fingers tightening on Dracos wast and making him cry out softly, roughly shoving at the arm causing him pain. Harry blinked, carefully holding onto the boy once more once Draco had glared at him, threatening his life once or twice.

"My parents were killed when I was two months old."

Oh hell.

"Right," Draco said awkwardly, his face heating up in slightly shame, though he wasn't sure why he felt ashamed.

"Don't fluster up darlin', not like I remember 'em. The worst part was living with my aunt and uncle."

Draco saw how it worked. Information for information. Harry would keep information to himself until Draco shared information about himself.

"Why's that?"

"Abused me, kept me as a slave, starved me. I was no better than a black man hundred years ago or better. Ran away when I was ten. Found a bunch of misfits with fucked up lives like me and banded 'em together. We've been together since."

"Hell- I, Uh, I-"

Harry chuckled, nudging Draco. "Don't get all awkward on me now darling, it's just a bit of trauma. I'm doing alright for myself, an' so are the others. Now, let's go get you some clothes, mm?"