Charles Smith x Reader

Thirty-One

Humming to yourself you tended to the horses. Their ears moved, hooves danced across the ground.

You were lost in thoughts while the voice of Charles reached your ears from afar. He had made a habit of talking to the cows. It was kind of sweet to hear him call them their girls while he scratched their necks and told the bull to stay away.

Even though he was a peaceful animal, the bull seemed to be especially keep on bumping his head into the man whenever he was close enough.

It wasn't a harmful thing but due to Charles' wounds that still healed it brought a risk that could be avoided.

Out of reflex your eyes wandered to the house, up to the sky and then along the road that led over the hill and down to where the town lay hidden in the distance.

Confused, you frowned.

There were people who walked up to the ranch. Perhaps you were just imagining it but you immediately left the horses and walked over to join Charles.

"You noticed.", he said in a calm manner, his gaze fixed onto the figures that approached.

"Are you expecting any visitors?", you asked with a grin, filly knowing that neither you nor Charles knew anyone who would have been welcome.

His hand reached down to his belt where he kept his shotgun.

"Any bills that need paying?", he asked back with a sarcastic undertone.

"Nope. Wait here. I'll get the revolver."

"Don't let me wait.", he called after you. "My hand gets jittery when you're not around."

You couldn't help but let out a snort, although you were fully aware that this wasn't a joke. He was dead serious.

The people were already in sight as you opened the door and reached up the shelf to grab your revolver. Cold metal nestled into the palm of your hand.

You took a look inside. Five bullets were in the drum and you still had a pack of ammo safely stored away in your nightstand.

You threw a glance over your shoulder.

Not enough time to grab some backup. The intruders were already close enough for you to identify at least one of them by their face.

"Ah...", you let out a heavy sigh. "What a lovely surprise."

With a sour look on your face you pulled the door shut again and jumped the fence. Charles offered you a helping hand, pulling you close to his side as you accepted the support.

Out of reflex, your hand reached around him to push your revolver into his waistband, hiding it in plain sight behind his back.

"Just keep it cool.", you whispered to him. "I got a plan."

A let out a huff.

"Funny. Old gang boss always said the same.", he said.

"How did that work out for him?"

"Not good."

"Hm. Reassuring."

"If it helps.", his hand reached down to grab yours and give it a gentle squeeze. "I put more faith in you than I've ever did in Dutch."

A pinch of pride warmed the inside of your chest.

Why did a compliment from his mouth always make you feel so flattered?

Somehow this felt so much more valuable than anything anyone else could have ever given you. Charles was a no nonsense man who only did or said what was necessary.

So him giving you a compliment, as simple as it might have been, was like a hand full of gold.

But the wave of happiness quickly faded. Instead, a weight pushed down on your shoulders and the irrational annoyance that only a complete idiot could cause grew.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything.", sheriff Clark greeted you with a smile that send shivers down your spine.

The uncomfortable kind.

"And if you were?", you asked, one eyebrow raised. "What gives me the honour to see your face once more, sheriff?"

With a dirty grin on his face, Clark took off his hat and placed it on top of his chest. Right where his heart was.

As he lifted his gaze you couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath. How uncomfortable his eyes made you.

"In that case I'd apologise.", his gaze wandered to Charles. "But I'm here and you didn't shoot me yet."

"Don't mistake my patience for hospitality, sheriff. I'd like you to state your reasons and then leave. Unless you got a warrant on one of us. In that case I'd prefer to go down in a fight."

Clark let out a sound that was something between an amused huff and a low growl. It seemed like the idea of a shootout made his fingers itch.

Again, you noticed him glare at Charles. He seemed particularly interested in him for some reason. And you did not appreciate that.

"The local savages are not so local anymore.", the sheriff tilted his head. "We're up and gone all of a sudden. You don't happen to know sum about that?"

You frowned.

"That was months ago. You come here now?", Charles asked.

Alarmed, Clark eyed him.

"How do you know?", he stretched his neck, teeth bared. "I never mentioned that."

"I've been in contact with them daily, sheriff.", you spit the title right in front of his feet. "You think I wouldn't notice they're gone?"

"I thought you'd be a lawful citizen and tell the government."

You shrugged.

"They go wherever the bisons go. You should know that. That's common knowledge about the natives."

"Savages!", he hissed.

"Careful.", Charles' hand lay on the handle of his gun. "I don't appreciate your tone."

"And I...", Clark stared down on him as if he were a wild dog. "I don't appreciate you being here in the first place, mister."

With a grim look on his face, Charles took a step forward. Now he and the sheriff were face to face with each other. And Charles was bigger by quite a lot. So much so that Clark couldn't hold up his hand demeanour and pulled his head in.

"Why not say what you think, sheriff.", Charles didn't even blink. "Go on. Speak your mind."

Clark sucked in a sharp breath.

"You don't belong here.", he dug a finger in Charles' chest. "You're the worst of both. A free slave and a savage. If it were for me to decide I would send you to reform school as well."

"But you won't.", you grabbed the revolver from Charles' waistband and pointed it at Clark's head. "Or there would be a big fat bounty on my head. Now take your little henchmen and fuck off. Or I'm making use of my second amendment right."