𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

Chapter 45

Cristine watched the tangerine glow of the sun setting at the horizon. The bright hues of red blended with the orange-gold streaks and stretched far and wide into the wide expanse of the sky. She relaxed outside of her cabin, back pressed into one of the wooden columns. One leg crossed underneath her bottom while the other was propped on the middle of the three-step stairs connected to the rest of her cozy porch. With her own little spot far away from the rest, she could relax from the arduous day and come to herself. Since she just showered, Cristine enjoyed the cooling nature of the otherwise dry breeze and as she wasn't tired yet, cleaning her gun occupied her thoughts. Also, it's been a while since she did a thorough cleanup of her revolver. It wasn't as mentally draining and helped pass time. A light smile perked her lips up, thinking of her father, before that too faltered. He taught her so many things and she was grateful for that. With dexterity and muscle memory, Cristine unclipped the clip of the gun and discarded the bolt. Last time she stripped her gun clean like this, she fantasized about her, her father and Hailey living a simple live in a cabin up in the mountains. A few horses, crops and cattle to live on. It'd be them, away from all this madness, people, the dead, and war. She finished cleaning the bolt and starting from the breech end, ran a cleaning rod down the barrel. Ensuring she got this part ready for routing, Cristine repeated the motion several times.

Sensitive to her surroundings, something in the distance moved at the same time her ears picked up the noise of shoes thudding on the dirt. Cristine automatically looked up and her chin glided over her right shoulder, body alert and muscles tensed. That tension, however, dissolved rather quickly and shifting in her half propped and cross-legged position in a more natural pose. She swallowed the beating in her throat. There was an attempt to relax as much as she could when Troy's silhouette drew close. A puzzled look crossed her face and Cristine wanted to get up, sensing there was something urgent from the seriousness of his expression. Cristine straightened, barrel and cleaning swab resting in both hands. She looked at Troy, head tilting with the lightest motion.

Troy stared at the dismantled gun. His eyes skimmed over the parts on the cloth on her porch. Guns were the finest pieces of art ever made by man. His brows twitched between unnaturally tensing and relaxing before his eyes darted from the gun parts to Cristine. She silently watched him, head cocked as with her brow in response to his own half-frown. Troy's mouth and jaw relaxed and ran the top of his tongue over pearly white teeth. Last time he saw her clean was the first time they were out as a team. "A person that takes good care of their guns is a person with discipline." He said something to her along those lines with different motives and bad dynamics.

"Did something happen?" Cristine found Troy's silence disconcerting and asked the question she often did. Something was always going on, usually bad things, and Troy coming to her was either him garnering her point of view or him venting about things because he couldn't really do that with is family. She didn't miss the peculiar glint of his irises or the way his slow movement reeked of him wanting to speak, but unsure where to actually start.

"Did you mean what you said? About me doing enough?" Troy made sure to watch for the subtlest of changes in Cristine's body language. He saw her head pull back while her shoulders subtly pushed forward signaling her silent thoughts. The up and down motion of her chin triggered his next question, voice scratchy, but his words carefully thought out, "so If I'm going to do something that might save on of our own, but possibly put the Ranch at risk... what would you advice?"

"What?" Alarmed by the explicitness of Troy's question, Cristine discarded the gun parts at her side in an afterthought. She rose, quickly searching for an explanation with pointed eyes. A passive skepticism and confusion slowly surrounded the woman, her damp and slightly weighed down curls move confusingly with her shaking her head. "Why would you even think of doing that?" She judged his question. Troy never took risks that could possibly be detrimental to the Ranch it's safety so of course Cristine showed surprise when he even hypothetically suggested it with this question. It didn't make sense as to who he was as leader of the militia and guardian to Broke Jaw Ranch. It didn't make sense as it being the home he grew up in.