The Wrong Man and the Right Woman (closed for CurtailedAmbrosia)

(Phone post, please forgive mistakes!)

"I said-". Elise reaches out and grabs a loose fistful of his shirt, a clumsy effort with her frozen cold hand. She honestly tries to haul him back upstream-but he's way too big for her to move or haul off anywhere, and while she might've tried to pick a fist fight under normal circumstances, big or not- she just doesn't have it in her right now. He walks in the opposite direction without so much as a glance, and she could either let go and follow after, or fall flat on her face.

She opts for the latter and glares at him when he tells her to sit-before another sneeze, shivers increasingly violent.

No revolver, her rifle upstream and probably stuck in the mud somewhere, and freezing to death feet from her giant bounty-yep, God was a sadistic bastard, blasphemy be damned. She sits down and curls in a little after peeling off the soaked jacket, hugging herself and gripping her upper arms.

The white shirt was practically transparent and clung to her slight frame like a second skin, posing a distraction for any man with life in him. He comes back and drops down for her boots-and nearly gets a kick for his trouble.

She was a -mean- little thing, this bounty hunter.

"Are you c-crazy?". She's so cold and shiverinf the words lack any force or real bite, even as she recognizes the merit in it. She's freezing, and her water soaked clothing was not helping with that in the least.

He leaves, taking his gun belt, she notices. She's stuck. Plain stuck, and while he hadn't threatened to strangle her or made any violent moves-there's anxiety to it. She's never been on this side of things before, had always planned for every eventuality, been in control. And now here she is unarmed, powerless, and in the company of a bear of a man she had come out here to bring in.

She can't think straight-too cold. He'd gone off to find firewood, had been just as soaked. She's just no real threat right now, or maybe it was a good turn for another, she could have-and maybe should have? Let him drown.

But she'd been serious about his day in court, about justice.

Elise didn't bother trying to unbutton her shirt-she can't feel her fingers. She just pulled it over her head and dropped it, and with a suspicious glance towards the treeline-she slipped her pants over her hips and dropped those too, leaving her in her practical, cream colored corset and of all things-her empty gunbelt loose around her hips. It was a ridiculous look and she's quick to pull the blanket around her, swimming in it and shivering.

She'd warm up and -then- figure out what the hell to do, how to get ahead of this again.
 
Cord had piled up some extra wood for the fire. He sat and jerked off his boots and poured water out of them. He walked around to where he was in back of where Elise sat. He removed his pants, long johns, and shirt. He wrapped the blanket around him.

He laid his clothes near the fire and sat on the same rock, a couple feet from Elise.

“I've been doing some thinking.” He hurried on before she could make a wise crack. “I'm going on after the rustlers, hopefully by tomorrow mornin'. I want you to come with me – your choice, of course, but and it really pisses me off to say this--

“Damn, it is just that I couldn't leave you to go off on your own with no horse or weapons. Just not right. If you insist, I will take you back to town then go after the rustlers. No need to answer now; you can tell me in the mornin'.”
 
Elise groaned, dropping her head into the hand she slips through the top of the blanket. "This again-". She's still shivering in starts and stops, but she's not as pale. There's color to her face again, behind that light dusting of freckles-particularly as she gets heated up again. This gentleman act of his-

"Yes I insist you come to town with me, and turn yourself in! I'm not waltzing into the midst of your gang like a lost, sacrificial lamb Gentry, I wasn't born yesterday."

She's scowling. It scrunches the bridge of her nose and narrows her eyes, mouth a flat line. She's furious with herself-and he's not wrong, faking or not. It'd be a long walk to civilization, with the threat of wolves, natives, and unsavory men along the way.

And besides, she's not heading back empty handed. She's bringing Cord in one way or another, even if she has to haul him in by his ear.

Another sneeze. She's plenty mad, but also plenty miserable. He should have let her damned well drown, if he was so dead set on being difficult.

She can't even sleep. She doesn't trust him. She doesn't trust anybody, and it had done her just fine.

"...and even supposing you -are- innocent-not that I think you are," Elise had to have that disclaimer in there. "How the hell are you going to take on that mess of men, anyway? I figured on at least six or seven of them, based on the trail they left. That's a tall order, even for a man as big as you."
 
"Yes I insist you come to town with me....

Cord grinned to himself as Elise made her opinon known. He admired her determination; it would be better if it was directed at someone else.

The fire provided some warmth, but he thought Elise might be getting a cold. He hoped not – on the trail was no place to get sick.

"How the hell are you going to take on that mess of men. . . .”

He ignored her question for a moment. It was a good one that he was unable to answer. He knew he'd need her help, and she was not prepared to hear that yet.

“When I catch up to them, I'll figure it out. Get as much rest as you can. I got a feeling tomorrow is gonna be hell.”
 
When he caught up to them he'd figure it out?

Elise's expression didn't sour or soften-instead it went a little flat, impassive as she studied his face in the firelight for a moment. Hers was a poker face to end all poker faces, impossible to see through.

She's seen men lie badly enough it was comical, and men lie well enough you'd damned well believe anything they told you.

And instead of falling somewhere within that spectrum, Cord instead seemed a mite anxious. Not scared, just-well. Like a man out of options, not one heading to rejoin his gang.

Or maybe she's being a bloody fool, rationalizing reasons why this wasn't a complete foul up on her part.

She sneezed again and huddled deeper into her blanket, gaze back on the fire.

"Don't tell me what to do." She mutters stubbornly. She doesn't need his bloody coddling-and it's a long time, long after he dozes off himself, breath steady, bit of a snoring here and there- before she finally drifts off for a bit of shut eye right where she sits.

-*-

When he woke, he'd find Elise not only already up and dressed, again in that oversized Union jacket-but with her rifle across her lap. She was finishing it's reassembly after having meticulously cleaned it. Given how bad the flash flood had been the day before, it no doubt had taken her some time to find it. Then the time cleaning it up-just how much-or how little-sleep had this woman gotten?

She checked down the sights of it, barrel safely aimed off to the side.

"So. Without that cart, there's no taking you back by force, not alive-and probably not even dead, ya big oaf." She chambered an empty round, looked that mechanism back over.

"But I ain't going home empty handed, either. I figure either you're honest about being wronged or you're a better liar than even I've seen. If it's the former I'll help you make it right. Bring THEM mooks to justice, find evidence for the sheriff. If it's the latter-" Elise's face darkens. "I'll shoot you in the back, then pick your men off one by one."

She'd do it, too. This was not a faint hearted woman, this was a woman living by the sword. She unchambered the empty round, vibrantly colored eyes flicking back to him.

"Either way, you won't shake me easy, horse or no horse."
 
Cord opened his eyes grateful to have gotten some rest. Elise was dressed and cleaning her rifle. He wasn't worried since it was pointed away from him.

His worry now was how in the hell was he going to get dressed. He decided that ignoring her and pretending she was not there was the best approach.

He stood up and walked to where his clothes were laid out. He found them dry, which was a true relief. He continued moving so that he was out of Elise's line of sight.

He removed the blanket and dressed quicker than he ever had. Putting on the boots was not easy. He thought they had shrunk just a bit.

He went to his horse to remove some travel fare. He returned to Elise and laid near her. He ate, put out the fire and covered it with dirt, then he saddled the horse.

"But I ain't going home empty handed, either. . . .”

Elise had made it clear that she was not pleased with the situation. He tried to ignore her threats, but it wasn't easy. In a way he almost felt sorry for the rustlers when they caught up to them.

He didn't laugh. She might think him nuts.

He mounted the horse.

“. . . you won't shake me easy, horse or no horse."

“You do know those boots are not made for walking? You can ride with me – I don't bite – had breakfast already.”

He started the horse off at a walk.
 
His comment about her boots felt ridiculously condescending to the already on edge, headachey, sleep deprived grumpy bounty hunter. The faint freckles across her nose and cheekbones disappeared in Elise's sudden flush of color, blue eyes flashing.

They had her done her just fine tracking his ass down, and scores of others, thank you very much! And listen to him joke-this wasn't a damned saunter on a plantation.

"Maybe YOU don't, but I sure as hell might." She responded crossly, slipping the rifle over her shoulder with a sharp tug on the strap. She feels better now that she's armed.

"I'll catch up just fine, Mr. Gentry. I always do.". She's outdone bloodhounds before.
 
Cord decided keeping quiet would be best for now. Elise might snap at him regardless of what he said. One good thing was that this part of the trail was not difficult. He had a feeling that would not last long.

He expected this trail had been made by miners, but the mine had shut down years earlier, and the trail had been deteriorating ever since.

There was a slight breeze in the air, but it wasn't enough to be chilly. As the morning progressed, Elise fell farther behind. She was just plain too damn stubborn for her own good.

He remembered her words. "I'll catch up just fine, Mr. Gentry. I always do." Then he turned the horse around and headed toward her. As he came alongside, he pulled his foot from the stirrup and held out his hand. He didn't say a word -just looked at her.
 
Elise was in and out of sight, occasionally trotting, running, or jogging at a steady pace to keep from falling too far behind. She wasn’t worried about losing him-she was good at tracking, and whatever time she lost on foot she’d make up for while he was camping, she figured.

Besides-time not on top of him was time to be warned if this was an elaborate, well played ruse and his men came looking for him. Elise honestly doubts this, but you never know.

The other troubling thought is how she’s a bit more short of breath than usual, and the damned headache that just won’t go away. The sudden rainstorm and the cold dip hadn’t helped her any-she’d been tired in the first place, and that left a body susceptible to things.

At least the breeze felt nice on her face-she’s a little too warm under the collar. As the bounty hunter came up over the rise, light on her feet and quiet as always- sees him turn his horse around, ride back in her direction.

“I said I’d catch up-” Elise says with the same stubbornness she’d exhibited for the entire venture, an irritated glance up at him and his offered paw.

But she is tired, and slowing them down at this point, since he was fool enough to turn back for her, wait for God’s sake. It made no sense on any sort of bonafide outlaw level-and she realizes that she’s really, honest to goodness starting to think he’s innocent. It's the only real way any of this added up-or was she just addled, this fever she's starting to suspect she's got?

He needs help with these cattle rustlers. He also trusted there to be enough evidence for his innocence that she wouldn’t haul him off to jail first chance she got, or else he'd be blazing a trail and leaving her in his proverbial dust-not that she'd ever stop coming for him, slow and steady, waiting for the lapse that would let her overtake her prey-as always.

This though, this just wasn't the conventional job.

Elise finally accepted the hand, also without comment as he hauled her up onto the saddle behind him. She’s not about to hold onto him, though-she leans back just enough to curl her fingers around the back of it.
 
When Cord saw Elise face up close, he was concerned by the paleness. Her hand also felt too warm. What had him worried even more was that she was too damn quiet. He'd expected a spitfire.

He was torn now as to what he should do. Her illness was not going away on its own. If he kept going, she could become deathly ill. Damn, he had to do what was best for her regardless of the cost to him.

There was no stream close by. He would have to make due with the canteens. He looked for a large tree where she would be out of the sun and headed in that direction.

“You are sick,” he said, “we are going to stop and rest and wait 'til your fever breaks.”
 
"For Christ sakes-are you innocent or not?! We don't have time for this bullshit-I feel fine." There went her temper again, sparking hot.

Elise growled, half at him and half at herself for snapping. She's not used to -people- anymore, any real sort of company. Just the occasional outlaw, and she didn't bother talking with them or their threats any. Otherwise it was just her and the wilderness, and had been ever since her pop died. Maybe that made her a bit rougher around the edges, she doesn't know.

She focuses past her headache and tries to be more patient, try being the keyword. He'd actually hear her take a steadying breath.

"You realize the spot you're in? This isn't going to get any better the longer you wait on it, Cord." She pulled one knee up onto the saddle, prepared to jump off and walk if she had to.

"We need to confront these cattle rustlers before they get to where they're going. If we can't do that, then at least get that bill of sale and track down whatever idiots are still around. -You- need as much exonerating evidence as possible, and -I- need something to show for my efforts. Somebody's responsible, and it's on me to bring them in. Them principles I mentioned."

"So either keep with the way we were going, or else take a nap by yourself, 'cause I ain't stopping til dark. Maybe not even then."

-*-

Elise ate a piece of toast and that was it once they did finally break for camp late that night, and despite the same watchfulness as always-she fell asleep first. She didn't want anything at all for breakfast, and got grumpy when he offered the second time. She was paler with an even darker flush of feverish color, but insisted she was -just fine- and that they had things to do. She repeated that she'd walk on ahead if he insisted on 'lazing around'.

She was too stubborn for her own good, and toughed it out same as she had the day before, sitting up straight with her hands behind her to hold on tight, quiet for the trip-her scowl slowly shifting to a frown, which then slowly shifted to a blanker look of exhaustion.

They were coming up on the spot she'd left her cart when she caught him the first time when she lost herself for a minute, losing her grip and tipping forward into his broad back. She was in danger of falling off the horse entirely in the swoon.
 
Cord felt a bit of relief that the spitfire was back, but at the same he was worried that she was pressing herself too hard.

"You realize the spot you're in? . . .”

Her words took him by surprise. It was the first time, so far as he could remember that she hinted that she believed him. “Okay, Elsie, we'll press on for now.”

"We need to confront these cattle rustlers. . . .”

He was glad her determination and focus had turned away from him; yet, he sensed something was wrong. She was risking her health to push on. Why?

He didn't know her situation, but it seemed to him that she needed money badly. He could be wrong. “We will catch up to them, Elise, for sure.”

They made good progress the rest of the day, and the clear blue sky made him less concerned about the weather.

Elise was much quieter as they rode along. He'd become accustomed to her digs and jabs. Silence was not a good sign.

With the light fading, Cord stopped. Elise said not one word. When they were both on the ground, he could see her flushed face. No question she was still sick. His hope was that a good night of rest would do her a world of good.

Cord watched Elise fall asleep. He wished he could help, but he didn't have a clue. He stayed awake for awhile, but he was tired.

He was up early and prepared breakfast for both of them. She refused the food. “Elise, you need to eat.”

She grumped at him for his persistence. She looked even sicker than last night. “I think we should stay--”

She protested that she was fine, and they needed to move on.

This day their ride was an easy one. It was close to noon when Elise pressed into his back. Cord jerked his feet from the stirrups and turned to catch her before she fell.

He pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted. He lifted Elise from the saddle, setting her on the ground. She opened her eyes, and he breathed a sigh of relief that the fainting spell was over.

“We are stopping here for the rest of the day.”
 
"Good." Somebody had done Mr. Dalton bad, and that somebody had to answer for their crimes. And if that someone wasn't Cord-well, it's doubly important.

The law was the law and while she and her pop had believed it held an important place in the West-justice mattered too. Assuming Cord Gentry was telling the truth, some bastard was keen on making him their patsy, and that just wouldn't do.

But mostly-her father had never left a job unfinished, and she wasn't about to start a new trend. It had nothing to do with money and everything to do with pride and doing right by the family name.

When Elise Summers said she'd do a thing, she damned well did it.

-*-

Her brow furrowed as her feet touched down, the hunter stirring back out of the spell and catching at his collar suddenly, her other hand curled into a small fist and drawn back-prepared to fight him of all things. And then a bit of clarity cuts through her confusion, and she realizes he's helping her.

Had she just fallen off the horse? Chirst alive.

"Ain't got time." Elise mumbles, unsteady on her feet and still gripping his collar, but her fist had loosened, was now pressed to her burning forehead and the headache that had only gotten worse and worse as time had gone on. She feels awful, even worse than she had been feeling all day and last night. Burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, shivery.

"S'fool thing to do, gettin' sick." She was irritated with herself, as if she'd really up and decided on it. The woman was stubborn and harsh even on herself it seemed.
 
Cord helped Elise stand back up and supported her as she moved slowly to the grass. There was no shade here. He set her down gently on the grass and returned to the horse where he removed the bedroll.

He laid a blanket out on the grass and lifted her onto it. He covered her with the other blanket and set her hat over her face to keep the sun off.

He sat down beside her, wishing he could help, but knowing there was nothing he could do.

She lay there mumbling, but he couldn't understand what she was saying.

He could tell time was passing from the movement of the sun, but it seemed so damn slow. When the sun was overhead, he went for the canteen. He tried to give her some water, but Elise was fast asleep – he hoped.

He was concerned for Elise and bored out of his mind. “I told you about my brother drowning, but I didn't mention that it was my fault. I was two years older, and at 12 got into every kind of trouble.

“There was a river couple miles from the house, which flooded every spring. My parents told me to stay away from it when it flooded.

“I was stubbon and determined to do things my way. My brother followed me everywhere; I thought nothing of it; it's what brothers do.

“So, there I was standing on a low bank watching the rushing of that powerful water. It really was a sight to see. I heard a scream.

“I saw my brother bobbing in the water as it carried him away. There was nothing I could do--”

“Damn.” Tears welled up in Cord's eyes. He'd never told anyone of what happened. Elise seemed to still be sleeping. He prayed that he had not failed to get her from the water quickly enough.

“I'm an idiot. Should of made you stop earlier.”

Elise didn't stir all afternoon.

“You know, Elise, you are about the most stubborn critter I ever seen – even stubborner than most mules. Why, I expect you are so ticked off at this sickness, you are gonna wack it and smack it until it can take no more and leaves you be.

“I know you are gonna win because you are a fighter. You will never give up. There are some nasty rustlers out there that should be shiverin' in their boots 'cause you are going to show up and put them where they belong – jail.

“I know you need rest, but I'm going to keep jawin' at you until you get sick and tired and tell me to shut up.”

Cord kept on talking not knowing if Elise heard him or not. He just wanted her to be ok. He wouldn't ask for anything else.
 
"Indians." Elise says, far after he'd talked about his brother. She was in an out, not entirely certain of the passage of time, but caught scraps of what he said, the guts he was spilling.

“My pop and me. I shoulda seen the war party when I scouted ahead, but I didn't, somehow. Got jumped at camp. Shot several dead. Jumped on horses. Fled."

She’s shivering in her blanketed, feverish huddle, the story coming in short sentences torn from somewhere deep inside.

"Pop’s horse was shot out from under him, he took a bullet to his back and shoulder before I could double back for him, shoot the other guy. He was bleeding bad, and his horse had pinned him."

Though feverish, Elise's gaze drifted to a thousand yard stare, remembering. "So much blood, and I couldn’t move the horse off of him. But I wouldn't leave him. Couldn’t."

"...he pulled a gun on me. I told him to shoot me then-and he said it'd be a mercy killing, considering what some of these braves do to...well. It was the only time I’ve ever seen him afraid. Maybe he would have shot me. Maybe not-but either way I...I left. I wasn't even twenty feet in fleeing before I heard Bartholomew Summers' last shot."

Silence.

"It's hard out here. And while it’s easy to blame yourself, people, things-it ain't really anybody's fault, sometimes. Took me a long time and a lot of lonely hours on the trail before I was alright with myself again, finally could let go of the guilt. He wouldn't have wanted that on my shoulders, Cord. Your brother, neither."
 
"Indians . . . My pop and me. . . .”

Elise's voice after such a long time of quiet caught Cord's attention. Her voice was weak but clear. He could hear the pain as she spoke. She stopped from time to time as shivers took over her body.

"Pop’s horse was shot out from under him. . . .”

The tone of Elise's voice changed. There was pain but also something else Cord couldn't name. He listened to her sad account and was brought to tears.

Her shivers took over, and he felt her forehead. She was burning up. He placed a cloth on her head and poured some water from the canteen. He would need to go for water in the morning.

“. . . I wasn't even twenty feet in fleeing before I heard Bartholomew Summers' last shot."

Elise's shivers took over. Cord felt beyond helpless as all he could was watch. “I'm sorry, Elise, for your loss.”

She was quiet for a long while, and he thought she might have fallen back asleep.

"It's hard out here. . . .”

Cord jerked, thinking he was close to falling asleep also. Elise's voice sounded stronger now. He listened to the account of her struggle.

“. . . finally could let go of the guilt. He wouldn't have wanted that on my shoulders, Cord. Your brother, neither."

Although Elise's words were not sharp, they cut him to the heart. Guilt from his brother's death had haunted him for so long. Elise had found peace. “Maybe I'll find peace too – one day.”

Elise remained quiet, and after a while, her breathing changed. Cord thought her asleep. As daylight faded, Cord lay down on his back next to her. If she woke, he didn't want her to think he'd left her.

Cord's eyes snapped open. Morning was just breaking. He must have been really tired to have slept so soundly. Suddenly, he realized that in the night he turned on his side, and his arm was draped over Elise.

He pulled away and stood up. “Good thing she didn't wake.” It was then he noticed her shivering had stopped. He leaned over and felt her forehead – no fever. “Thank God.”

He went about gathering wood, which was getting scarce. He made a small fire and heated up some food. He was glad to see Elise's eyes were open. Taking some food to her, he sat down by her side.

Cord tried to feed her; she refused to open her mouth. Damn stubborn. He set the food near her along with half a canteen of water. “Even if you do not feel hungry, you need to eat. I'm counting on you to help with the rustlers. I know you won't let me down, and you will collect a huge bounty.

“I need to go for water. It should take about two hours before I'm back. I promise I will be back.”

Cord stood up and walked away. He wanted to look back but was afraid he might return to her side. He didn't want to leave her.

He saddled Chester and was soon in the saddle. He was about to leave when he realized Elise had no weapons. He rode over to her blankets, dismounted, set the rifle next to her. “I'll return as soon as possible.”

The river was just a ribbon, winding like a snake from where he sat. He thought it would take an hour.

Descending two large canyon walls had eaten up most of that hour. It was three hours later when he reached the river. Elise was going to kill him.

He filled three canteens and headed back. He tried to not think so much, but Elise was constantly on his mind. Even with the fever gone, she could still die if she didn't start eating soon.

It was midafternoon, and he was riding up the slope of the plateau where their camp was located. He was near the top when three men, holding pistols, stepped out from behind a huge boulder. Cord knew he was screwed.

One of the men dropped to the ground. The loud report of a rifle drew the other men's attention. Cord's guns filled his hands and shot both men.

Cord saw Elise standing at the edge of the plateau. He waved and yelled, “Thanks.” He continued his ride up the slope.
 
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