Rust and Roses

Chapter 3

Life on the dusty, winding roads was a perpetual adjustment for the Marston siblings. Stripped of the comforting certainty of three square meals a day or a welcoming bed to collapse on, they found solace in the unbridled freedom it brought. Marie, once perpetually on edge, began to breathe easier, and John reveled in the subtle transformation of his sister's newfound resilience.

Begging for sustenance became a daily ritual, each encounter with a stern-faced policeman or an imposing sheriff a risky dance on the tightrope of survival. In the unforgiving landscape, the Marston siblings honed their skills, delving deeper into the shadowy world of pickpocketing and artful, stealthy theft.

"Remember the plan," John instructed, his voice low yet commanding.

"Feign a twisted ankle, plead for help, while you raid the lockbox on the coach," Marie echoed, her eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and trepidation.

"Exactly. And if anythin' goes south, you vanish," John reassured her, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of brotherly concern.

"I won't leave you, John!" Marie exclaimed, her resolve evident even through her hesitation.

"I'll find ya," he promised, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite Marie's reluctance, she nodded in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of their unspoken bond. "Let's hope for enough to fill our bellies and secure a bed for the night." Marie nodded in concurrence, her gaze fixed on the unpredictable horizon.

As John stealthily positioned himself in the nearby bushes, Marie, clad in worn-out clothes, lay prone by the roadside, her eyes scanning the horizon for the approaching stagecoach.

"Ah!" she screamed, her voice a blend of desperation and agony, "please help me! It hurts so much!" The stagecoach slowed to a halt, revealing a concerned driver and two passengers—a young married couple, their eyes marked by a genuine and unexpected kindness.

"Oh, sweetheart, what happened?" the woman asked, her voice soft and compassionate.

Desperation etched Marie's face as she skillfully spun a tale of a runaway horse, a sudden fall, and the throbbing pain in her ankle. The woman, kindness lacing her words, turned to her husband. "Richard, please help her; let's get her to the doctor."

John emerged from the shadows, a silhouette against the backdrop of dusty roads and fleeting daylight, working his way methodically behind the wagon to crack the lockbox. Marie, aware of her brother's stealthy operation, needed to keep the couple distracted a moment longer.

"I don't have any money to repay you," Marie lamented, her eyes mirroring genuine concern.

"Don't worry, dear. Right, Richard?" the woman said, glancing affectionately at her husband.

"Of course, dear," Richard replied with a reassuring smile, preparing to assist Marie. The diversion worked seamlessly, and Marie, with a calculated limp, hobbled into the wagon. John, having secured what they needed, vanished into the shadows, his movements silent as a whisper.

"Thanks again! Not everyone is as kind as you," Marie grinned wickedly, her eyes betraying a hint of mischief.

"Think nothing of it, dear," the woman assured, her genuine smile unwavering.

The journey into town unfolded comfortably. As the stagecoach rumbled along the uneven terrain, Marie subtly observed the quaint town emerging on the horizon. The doctor's office, a weathered structure with peeling paint, marked their destination.