From Home to High Plains

Along the River

We rode for what felt like hours. Jud, the one who had been laughing, spent his time on the ride back laughing and make crude jokes. Hank sometimes laughed, but other times gruffly ordered Jud to be quiet. The other man, who they called Virg, stayed quiet. I rode in front of Hank, my hands bound, watching the grassy landscape and trying to figure what to do to get out of this situation.  

I figured my best chance of escape would be when we got where we were going and I wasn't being watched, maybe at night. I didn't want to think about having to stay around them longer than that.

Surely there will be more of them where we're heading. And Jack Fuller will be there. And I have no clue where we are going. And my sense of direction is crap. God, what do they want me for?

I didn't want to think about any of it. 

The only thing I could do is pray that one of the two passengers somehow got word to the Marshal... or that I wake up -- jump forward in time -- whatever was going on.

~

After what seemed like forever, the terrain started to change from vast, empty grasslands to slightly rocky grasslands dotted with trees. I could see a river, as well as a small, deserted looking cabin. As we got closer, I could see a few horses outside of the cabin.

The closer we got to their hideout, the more nervous the three of them looked. When we finally reached the cabin, Hank was visibly sweating. 

The three dismounted and as Hank pulled me from the horse, the cabin door slammed open.

"Where in the devil have you three been?" A man shouted. Jack Fuller. He was tall, towering over the other three. He looked to be around 40 years old, but his jet black hair just starting to gray. 

"We.. uh... We robbed the coach.." Hank mumbled, trying to stand tall and look calm.

"You what? I sent you to get more provisions, and you idiots robbed the damn stagecoach?" His eyes squinted as he scanned the three of them. "Well, didya at least get food? Or money?"

Hank looked at the ground, fumbling with his pockets. He tossed what the man in the bowler hat had given him while the other three dropped the bags in front of Fuller. 

Fuller rolled his eyes and kicked one of the bags, grumbling. 

"I told 'em not to do it. I knew'd ya be angry," Virg pleaded. 

Fuller kicked the other bag, sending it flying towards me. I jumped away from it and looked up to see him looking at me, for the first time since we'd arrived. 

"You're the girl that's been hanging around the Marshal," he said, staring at me. I stared back, not answering. A smiled curled at his lips. "Hmm. I guess the trip wasn't a total waste." He stepped closer to me. "You know how to cook?"

I looked at him, confused. "Yes." I answered. I'd rather be cooking than whatever else they had planned. Plus, maybe I could get them to trust me and find a chance to escape.

Escape? To where? I knew how to get back to the town about as well as I knew how to get to Atlantis. 

He smiled, "Great. I'm getting damn tired of Hank's cookin'. Anyone else get away from the stagecoach?"

Hank spoke up, "Just some ol' city feller and an old man."

Fuller nodded, smirking again. He turned to head back into the cabin, but not before giving an icy glare to Hank and the other two. 

~

The cabin looked just as bad inside as it did outside. It was dusty, in need of desperate cleaning, and the curtains were shredded and falling apart. It was clear it had been abandoned for some time. There were cobwebs dangling in each of the four corners of the single room, with a small woodstove shoved against the wall. There was a single table with four rough wooden chairs, a single bed, and three piles of blankets laid out on the far side of the room.