Goldridge (Steve Rogers AU)

1

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

Brother to murderer...

Elsa's eyes flickered to rest on her brother from behind dark glasses as he stood, hands clamped in casually in front of him. Dark suit, dark hat. The only thing she knew was missing was the handcuffs around his wrists. It was almost as though he were subtly gloating to their father who lay in the coffin before them.

She didn't think he'd do it, but the look on his face as the coroner had taken their fathers body away just the week before, said otherwise.

Of course it had been ruled an accident. To get away with murder and inherit what you wanted? Of course you needed to make it look like that.

Jack and their father had come to blows often, but none like when the old man had stayed his intentions for selling off the ranch. Jack had been furious, and raised voices had been the chorus of the evening as Elsa had sat drinking her wine straight from the bottle - wishing the pair would either shoot one another to shut up, or just give in.

She couldn't breathe a word to anyone about what had happened though. She had been threatened into silence to which she'd spat at Jack's feet and told him she wasn't traitor like he was. "You did thi..."

He'd grabbed her neck and pinned her against the wall. "I did this to save our family home! Our name! Our reputation! He was about to sell it all down the fucking river! He was going senile anyway, and if you so much as say a word? You'll end up joining him". He then saw her face and sighed. "I did this for us. This ranch? It's been in our family generations. He was selling off our future".

"You mean your future". She pushed him away. "He wasn't senile either. He was trying to do what was best for us".

She watched the coffin being lowered into the ground and turned, walking away from the mourners who had been invited. As far as she was concerned this was over.

Making her way back in the direction of the ranch from the family cemetery where generations lay, she noted the two men stood at the end of the private road waiting patiently.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me". She muttered and now her pace quickened, storming towards them. "This is a private event! Not a celebration to gloat! Now fuck off before I make you!"

Joe Rogers and his son stood there, waiting and watching as she yelled before she came and stoped in front of them, the icy glare piercing their eyes. "You deaf? Get the fuck off our land!"

"You mean our land". Joe now spoke and passed her and envelope. "Sorry to have to do this to you on the day of Daddy's funeral, but we just wanted to make you aware of this little detail before your will reading later".

Elsa looked from Joe to Steve, snatching the envelope and opening it. Inside was the sale agreement, signed by her father the day before his death. A sure last middle finger to her brother.
She couldn't help it, but she laughed. Laughed and laughed until she saw their confused faces. "Well...I sure can't wait to see Jack's face when he sees this. The old man got one over on him". Stuffing the papers back into the envelope and slamming them against Steve's chest.

He frowned. "Laughing at a funeral. Classy girl".

"You don't get to judge me, this is fucking hilarious in my eyes. Honestly, thanks - I needed the laugh today. Pretty sure I can hear daddy laughing up there too". She looked to the sky, hands on hips and shook her head. "I think we'd best wait for Jack - he's gonna be thrilled to see you".

"Somehow I don't think he'll roll out the welcome wagon".

The two families had feuded for years, it went back for longer than they could even remember.

"No. If anything he'll probably shoot you - but I'm just here for the shit that's about to go down". She replied and then heard Jack's shout as he came thundering over to them.

Elsa leant against the fence and watched them before pressing two fingers to her lips and whistling loudly to get their attention. "When you've finished insulting one another, you might wanna just tell him what you told me". Coming over to brother and taking his gun from the inside of his jacket. "Think I'd best take this..."

"What the fuck is going on?" Jack demanded, swinging round to Steve and Joe who simply passed him the same envelope so he could read it. "What the fuck..."

"Land and the ranch is ours". Steve explained as Jack kept reading. "You have a choice. Stay and work for us? Or pack your shit and leave".

Jack spat at him and then threw the papers to the ground. "You think I'd work for you? You think you can take our home?"

"We already have. Your dad was more than happy to negotiate with us. Probably because he knew the place would be in better hands". Steve was met with a punch as Jack threw his fist, smashing into his cheekbone. Elsa now muttering to herself and running over to pull her brother off him.

"Jack! Stop! It's all legal. The place is theirs, everything is theirs". She said pushing him away and coming between the two men.

Jack looked at her and then to Steve, "did you know about this? Did dad tell you?!"

"Of course he fucking didn't!" She yelled. "I'm just as pissed as you, but we can't do anything. The ranch is under Rogers ownership now".

"Well I ain't staying to work under them". Jack thew both Steve and Joe a threatening look. "You're dead men walking". Then walking off to the ranch house.

Elsa didn't want to leave, but she also didn't want to take the offer the Rogers had made. This was her family home though, and someone had to make sure that they didn't come in and mess with it.

"Steve will be living here. The home is his". Joe said once Jack was out of sight.

"So I'm out on the street then - thank you for being so considerate". She chided.

Steve rubbed his bloodied cheekbone. "Not unless you wanna stay and work for us. Your brother may not wanna but if you do? You can stay in the house".

Elsa laughed and stopped herself. "What? With you? A man who I could easily put a bullet in right now?"

He smirked. "But you won't will you? Because you have more sense than that. You know what's best for you".

She looked him up and down before turning and walking away . "Maybe - but it ain't you Rogers".