The Man and The Outlaw

Chapter Three

"So, you're moving back home?"
The day had grown long and the three of them had decided that camping in the woods would make for a better night than sleeping out in the wind. Clara had invited Walker to join them, there was safety out here in numbers, and he had obliged without hesitation. They built a fire and Loren set about cooking three cans of beans for their dinner. Walker had taken his hat off as the sun lowered, resting it upside down on the ground beside his bedroll, and mussed his sweaty hair until it stuck up around his head. He was poking twigs into the fire one by one and watching them be consumed by the flames. He opened his mouth to answer the question and erupted into loud, wet coughs which he attempted to smother by forcing his face into the crook of his elbow. Clara and Loren both watched him, shaken slightly by the sudden outburst of uncontrollable noise. Clara picked up an extra canteen of water and handed it over to him.
"Are you okay?" she asked him. He took a grateful swig from the bottle and waved his free hand at her dismissively.
"Caught a chest cold a week ago and it's still hanging around," he explained. They both nodded in understanding and Walker tried again to address the question posed before his coughing fit.
"I've spent over a year in Brandle, trying to help get them squared away and built up so that families and local law can start to get in and do what they need to. The place is growing pretty quickly and there's plenty of folks who are better at town building than I am now. I guess I just did all I could there and after that, what's left? I figured I'd head back home, try to pick up where I left off," he told them plainly, his words matter of fact and lifeless. Clara wondered how fond he really was of this home that he spoke about.
Loren pulled a can of beans from the fire, using a heavy leather glove to protect his hand, and gave them a taste. Without looking up from his cooking, he asked, "Where's all your stuff?"
"Huh?"
Loren looked up at Walker passively, chewing on his mouthful of beans and then gave him a shrug and gestured around them with his free hand.
"You're moving but you ain't got any luggage," he pointed out casually. "You've gotta have more than what's in them saddlebags after a year of living some place."
Walker eyed Loren's beans greedily. His stomach rumbled but Loren appeared determined to withhold the food until he got a sufficient answer.
"It's on a train," Walker said as though it were the most obvious thing.
Loren relented and started passing out the cans to each of them, careful to wrap them in rags to make them easier to handle. Walker nodded his thanks and did not wait for the beans to cool before digging in. Clara set her can down.
"How come you didn't ride with it? Why go through the trouble of buying a horse and taking Montgomery?" she asked him as both men continued to eat. It struck her as odd that he would choose such a difficult way of travelling, leaving his things to go on without him. Then, she thought about their horses tied nearby and the perfectly good truck that sat out at her farm, untouched, and she thought herself foolish for judging Walker. These were funny times, and she was sure he'd have a good reason for what he'd decided to do. Besides, she had put him under a Silvertongue trance not two and a half hours ago and he had all but laughed it off. He deserved the benefit of the doubt, if only for what she'd done to him and the decency he had not to turn her in.
"I never liked trains," he admitted a bit sheepishly. "They're too loud, too fast. I like to move quietly, take in the views, that sort of thing. I had a bad experience with a train once and I'll never ride another one as long as I live," he told her.
Clara wanted to ask what the bad experience had been, even glanced over at Loren to see if he was likewise curious, but her friend was still busy with his nose in his can of beans, and she kept her interest to herself. Again, she thought of the dull look on Walker's face, the look she had caused by using that inhuman voice of hers, and she was inclined not to question him at all. She felt bad enough and didn't have the energy left to pry. She settled for an easier question to scratch her curiosity itch.
"So, the train will take your stuff on and drop it at your place for you? Where exactly is it you're headed?" she asked as Loren got to his feet and wandered off into the trees around them for some privacy to relieve himself.
"Oh uh, a little farm about ten miles east of Hudson Pass," he told her, staring once again into the flickering flames. She could see the fire reflected in his irises, giving them a reddish glow. He seemed to have stiffened a little at the mention of his home again.
"Got lots of family waiting for you?"
He smirked and shook his head. A sharp look crossed his face and Clara felt a chill run through her. She knew that look, had seen it reflected on her own face in the mirror. It was the look of someone who'd lost more than they wanted to admit.
"Nobody waiting on me," he said. "Might get myself a dog if I can find one that sticks around."
Clara wanted to say something to comfort him, but she hardly knew him, and she hadn't quite conquered her own loneliness enough to be giving advice. Each thought of her father brought pangs of grief that she felt at any moment could overwhelm her. The scene sank into awkward silence until Loren returned with a few extra logs in his arms for the fire.
"How do you know where this Valdez guy is going to be anyway?" Walker asked, breaching a new subject to Clara's great relief. He turned away from the fire as Loren fed the flames with the wood he'd brought and rolled over onto his back, putting his arms behind his head and staring up at the night sky.
Clara let Loren explain the intel they'd received, happy to sit back and listen, half expecting herself to realize how idiotic the plan was as she heard it relayed through somebody else's words. Walker listened intently.
"We're going to Spencer to talk to those boys in the jail, see if they'll give anything up about where he might be," Loren finished. "When you came along, we thought we'd saved ourselves a trip."
Walker sat up again and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his nearby saddlebag.
"That won't help your cough," Clara pointed out and Walker raised his eyebrows at her in agreement but stuck one of the white papered sticks in his mouth anyway and lit it.
"What makes you think they're gonna talk?" he questioned around the cigarette.
Clara had already thought about this. It seemed more than obvious to her.
"They got caught and he didn't. They're bound to be more than a little pissed about it. I figure we give them the opportunity to vent their frustrations and maybe gain some useful information in the process," she replied. Walker puffed on his smoke and studied her again, that same look of approval on his face. If Clara was being honest, she didn't dislike it.
A coyote cried somewhere in the distance and as the fire began to shrink, the conversation quieted and each of the new trio hunkered down in their respective bedding for the night. Walker turned his back and lay down on his side, facing into the trees away from the fire. Clara watched him as she pulled her blanket up to her chin. She couldn't have explained it, but there was something about him that seemed strange, not bad or good, but different. She didn't know if she could trust him, she'd only just met him anyway, but there was a longing in her to do so regardless. If you couldn't believe in somebody who'd risked their lives for those of children, who could you believe in, right?

The next morning dawned clear and cool, and Clara found herself up before the other two. She'd had an uneasy dream, something about a cave and what lurked deep within it. Though she couldn't remember it all, the wary, unsettled feeling had followed her into waking, and she busied herself with her horse and saddle just to have something to do to distract from it. There was a noise behind her, and she whirled around, pistol drawn faster than she could even think about it.
"Take it easy, it's just me." Walker had emerged from the direction of their camp, flinching away with his palms up towards her as she had whipped around to face him. She dropped the pistol with a sigh.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. He gave her an easygoing shrug, but she continued.
"Not just for this," she waved the gun and then put it away, "but for everything yesterday, the trance, forcing you to dump your stuff, all that."
She hadn't got the chance to make this known to him yesterday and it had been gnawing at her, possibly the reasoning behind the weird dream she'd had. It felt a little better to at least let him know. Again, he gave her the simplest of shrugs and she couldn't stand it anymore.
"How come you don't care?" she spat, the words coming out with more force than she'd meant them to. He smirked at her, both of them staring across the space at one another. She couldn't read him, that's what bothered her. With Loren, she could tell almost exactly what he was thinking or feeling. With Walker, this new stranger, she had no idea and he seemed to prefer it that way.
"People don't like Silvertongues, you know? Are you going to turn me in when we get to Spencer, is that it? Is that why you're playing so cool?" She was clenching and unclenching her fists as fierce anger built from out of nowhere, wishing he would do something, say something.
He laughed and she almost drew her gun again.
"I don't mean to laugh," he said upon seeing the anger in her face. "It's just...I don't mind that you're a Silvertongue because it doesn't really matter. You're not that different than me, or anybody else. You did that...that thing to me yesterday because you thought I was the outlaw, a criminal. I respect what you're doing, going after somebody who deserves it. I'm not going to turn you in.
"Actually," at this point he hesitated and readjusted his hat on his head, "I followed you over here because...well I was wondering if I could come with you to Spencer, help you find this Valdez guy."
Clara narrowed her eyes at him. "I told you, we're not after the money," she said.
"I know," he replied quickly, taking a few steps towards her so he didn't have to speak across the gap. "It's just...all that stuff you guys told me last night..."
Clara and Loren had spent the better part of yesterday telling Walker all they knew, or had heard, about The Outlaw Valdez and the crimes that he'd committed. Clara had chosen to omit the part about her father, wanting to keep that to herself for now, but mentioned murder amongst the robberies and stickups. She was almost certain that that had been the final piece of information that had driven Walker to want to follow them as his eyes had widened at the word and shone with shock and disbelief.
"...I just want to help."
At first, she didn't believe him. Who would be stupid enough to sign up for the wild goose chase she had embarked on that could prove to be more dangerous than any of them even realized? Loren had only followed her out of his loyalty to her family and because he was her oldest friend. Walker had no such strings. It didn't make sense.
She began to shake her head and he visibly paled, seeming to shrink before her.
"Please, I...I've got nothing waiting for me at home but an empty house and a few sour memories. I don't want to go back there, not yet. I'm not ready. I need to be of service. I need to do something. I want to help." There was a shine in his pale eyes that tore at Clara's heart as he spoke. She thought of her own empty house, the memories not soured but fading even as she stood there listening to him, and she felt a lonely bond, kinship of the brokenhearted perhaps, begin to form between herself and the rider she had accused of being an outlaw.
"It's the whole reason I went to Brandle after...well, after my mother died. But they don't need me anymore and I didn't have anywhere else to go and...I'm good with a gun, see? That'll come in handy against outlaw types," he was saying. "And I'm no stranger to sleeping in the dirt or plugging away on horseback. I won't hold you up or slow you down, I promise."
The cool façade had melted away like sugar cubes in a rainstorm and Clara could see the real man beneath for the first time since they'd met twelve hours ago. He'd taken his hat off and was wringing the poor thing so hard in his hands that she didn't think it'd ever hold its shape the same again. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him, their positions were so similar, hers fresher but his just as painful. She hoped in a year that she'd be able to face her empty home, though in the moment she concluded that all depended on what happened with Valdez in the present time.
"I just want to help," he repeated and the anger she had felt from the start evaporated completely.
"I guess it couldn't hurt having an extra set of eyes or a spare pair of hands," Clara finally relented, and Walker brightened like a child being told he'd just earned a new toy for cleaning up his room. His slumped shoulders straightened, and he seemed to recover himself, replacing his hat and grinning gratefully at her.
Both of them turned abruptly to look as they heard Loren stirring back at the campsite. Color flushed Walker's cheeks and a mad desperation entered his eyes as he looked back at Clara, the victory forgotten as the shame of a man bearing his inner thoughts and feelings took hold of him. Clara wanted to laugh at the quick change of emotions. Men were such silly creatures sometimes, especially around one another.
"You think we could keep this between us?" he asked her, his voice laced with something that told her he needed her not to refuse. She hadn't planned on baring this conversation to anyone anyway, Loren would not pry when she told him she'd decided to let Walker tag along, and she agreed to his most obvious relief.
"Thanks," he sighed, and it was her turn to offer him a passive shrug.
"We'll just call it even for me putting you in the trance yesterday," she chuckled.
"Who's even?" Loren grunted, emerging from the same spot that Walker had and knuckling sleep from his eyes as he shuffled. The sky had lightened considerably since Clara had first woken and she could tell that it was almost time for them to be off.
"I'm even so I guess that makes you odd, Lore," she retorted with a grin. "Sorry boutcha."
"I knew it. Should've listened when my grade school teacher told me not to hang around with that Thompson girl. Who wouldn't end up a little odd with her calling the shots, huh?" He smirked and locked eyes with Walker sneakily. "Better watch out bud or you'll be getting a little odd yourself."
Walker laughed. "I think the damage might already be done on that front."
"Besides, he wants to stick around," Clara announced. "He's going to be following us to Spencer, give us a little help tracking down Valdez."
At this, Loren's eyes darted to Clara's, his face remaining impassive while he searched for signs on how she wanted him to react. This was her show and he had never had any qualms about letting her make the decisions. He rather preferred it that way as his nature was to take orders, not give them. After a brief moment, he nodded his head but said no more and continued through their clearing and into the woods beyond.
"He doesn't like me, does he?"
Clara followed her friend's path with her gaze long after he'd disappeared. It wasn't a question of whether Loren liked Walker or not. Loren didn't care about liking or disliking someone, but he put a lot of stock in trust and the earning of it. She knew he didn't have as much information as she did on Walker's motivations and, until he proved himself, Loren would not put his faith in him. He wouldn't object to Clara's wishes though because he trusted her and believed in her to make the right decisions. He would follow her to the ends of the Earth without complaint if he had to, that was just who he was. That kind of responsibility weighed heavily on her when she allowed herself time to think about it. She hoped she wasn't leading them into a snake pit they couldn't get themselves out of.
"He just takes a minute to warm up is all," she assured Walker with a gentle, but slightly nervous smile.