scurlock | oom: outside of milliways sorta

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oom: outside of milliways sorta

After returning from Green Lake the night before, Doc had a promise to keep to Miss Katherine in regards to the stables and taking her out riding for a proper tour of the grounds. And even with the immediate exit blocked by strange plants and vines, he'd gone out early to take care of the cleaning, feeding, and general work that he'd missed over the last few days before slipping back in for breakfast and to have a waitrat deliver a note upstairs to her room while he got changed into more riding-appropriate clothes.

The note (which she'll find along with the clothes Bar has most likely helpfully left for her upstairs -- don't ask how the rat got in to leave it, these things just happen) says simply that he'll be out in the stables after she's had breakfast and is ready, but not to rush, and to avoid angering the strange plants and she'll be just fine walking through.

So when she does wander outside, she'll catch him singing if she's quiet walking into the stables. It's a more modern song, but one that he heard while in the bar one day and it caught his interest and he's heard it enough that he's got a little bit of it memorized.

"Well Maggie was my true love, the only kiss I knew
I’d meet her at the oak tree in the cool evening dew
Where we would walk beside the levee, our fingers intertwined
While the crimson moon gazed through the needles of the pines

We’d lay beside each other, staring at the sky
Listenin’ to the whistlin’ of the train blowin’ by..."

That's all he knows, so he trails off towards the middle of the verse.

She'll find that he's in one of the store rooms gathering up the tack they'll need for two horses, and there's a few papers pinned to the wall near the door with his handwriting on them, notes and lists of feed and supplies, reminders, that sort of thing.

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It's not long before Katherine finds her way to the stables, though to be honest, she was waylaid by the necessity of stopping to examine the interesting flora, and it took her a bit to figure out the clothes Bar had left for her.

She feels a bit bare, being used to side-saddle attire, as she walks in wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white tank top. There are brown leather boots on her feet and a sturdy leather belt at her hips, with a buckle of silver and turquoise. She felt awkward without anything covering her arms, so Bar had relented in giving her a light-colored tanned leather jacket, and atop her head of finely brushed blonde hair sits a cowboy hat to match.

Coming to the doorway of the store room quietly, she listens with fondness as Doc sings. Crossing her arms and her feet at the ankles, she leans against the door jamb and soaks in the melody, waiting for Doc to notice she's there.

When he stops singing, he fiddles with a blanket and then glances over his shoulder at the feeling of someone watching him, and his eyebrows go up ever so slightly at the sight of her in the modern attire. She looks good. Really good, but, he keeps that thought to himself.

"Howdy," he says, with that hint of a pretty boy smile. "Was just gettin' the tack we need, you sleep well?" Bar does have very comfortable beds and incredible showers, after all.

He's dressed in a long sleeved shirt and suspenders, with dark brown pants (corduroy jeans with a deerskin seat), and boots. His gunbelt is also slung around his hips, Colt right where it belongs in that holster.

"And sorry 'bout my singin', I ain't all that good," he quips, as he hefts one of the saddles into his arms and moves to carry it out into the barn, setting it on a bench before he returns to grab the other one.

She shifts a bit under the weight of his glance when he turns and sees her.

"Hello," she murmurs, a bit shyly. "I did, thank you. Though things here are quite different than what they are back home," she says with a bashful little chuckle. Remembering what to do with the modern plumbing had been an adventure. The bedside lamp, too... well, Katherine might have sat, flipping it on and off, for about ten minutes. Just 'cuz.

She picks at the sleeve of her jacket, adjusting it on her shoulders in a move that shows she's clearly not entirely comfortable in the modern attire.

"Don't you apologize for anything; I was enjoying the serenade," she smiles, moving aside to let him pass with the saddle. She would offer to help, but she knows he would protest. So she's content to play the proper lady.

For now.

"Somethin' I heard while sittin' downstairs one night, asked Lady Bar what it was and she gave the name, plays it sometimes while I'm around, picked up bits of it," he says, with a smile. "And there ain't nothin' like seeing what the future comes up with -- remind me to show you the video player sometime."

And she's right -- Doc would protest, so she's smart to play the proper lady and let him do the work. It's not very difficult, either, and doesn't take long for him to gather up both saddles, blankets, and various bits of tack that he needs.

He pauses to check everything over before going to fetch both the horses they'll be taking out, two geldings, one a deep chestnut and the other dappled-grey in color.

"Now this here," he motions to the first, the chestnut, as he works to put on the gear. "This is Duncan. The other gentleman," a nod to the grey, "Is Rachat."

Oh, she'll definitely be asking Doc about the video player at some point. But at the moment, there are two gorgeous equines standing before her, and she's grinning too big to ask him about anything else.

"Hi there, sweetie," she coos to the chestnut, reaching out to stroke his muzzle with one hand while pushing the cowboy hat back with her other. It hangs from a leather tie around her neck, and now with the brim out of her way she's able to lean in close to the steed as she scratches the powerful jaw, laughing when he nudges her face with his nose.

"Rachat," she says, trying the name out, as she reaches a hand out to stroke his fine muzzle as well.

"Which will be my mount?" she asks, but she clearly has no preference. She's equally enthralled with both, and they seem quite comfortable with her.

Told you she had a way with horses.

"Whichever you want, both are broke about the same," Doc comments, and once Duncan is saddled he smiles a little bit. "Think he likes you, though" he adds, moving to adjust the length of the stirrups to her height.

It doesn't take long for him to saddle up Rachat, either, and he ducks over to his 'office' (there is a wooden desk and chair near the tack and feed rooms) and grabs his hat, then takes the reins of the Chestnut to hold him steady.

"Ah, you want a bench, a fence or somethin'?"

He's not quite sure just how good she is at getting up into the saddle.

She first beams at Doc, and then at the chestnut. "The feeling is mutual," she comments, stroking the animal's neck.

When she perceives that Doc has himself together and ready to go, she doesn't give him time to even finish his sentence before she grabs hold of the saddle horn and swings herself up onto the animal's back, righting her cowboy hat on her head as she does so. It's all one fluid motion, ending with a proud little smile down at Doc.

"You about ready, Doc?"

Yes, she's teasing him. Just a bit.

Doc grins at her.

"Well then," he drawls, before he takes hold of the horn on the saddle and hops up, swinging his leg over and settling himself, before he nods. "Just about, I reckon."

A beat.

"We should head up towards the far side of the lake, try and skirt the plants near the bar, ain't somethin' I want to see if these guys are afraid of this afternoon," he adds, before he lightly clicks his tongue and nudges Rachat onward.

She grins to match him.

"All right. You lead the way; I am at your mercy today, after all," she chuckles, gently encouraging Duncan forward and quickly bringing him to a steady trot. Normally she might move straight into a canter, but today she'll let Doc set the pace.

"Careful, now," he warns, though his tone is entirely not warning, but sarcastic, "You best not be forgettin' I'm one of Billy the Kid's 'fearsome posse'," he quips.

There's no danger to being out late, either, as the moon is not full and there won't be any wolves, so he's got one less thing to worry about. They pass by the forge and then around the lake, then towards the forest and the mountains past that.

Of course, if he lightly nudges his horse a little faster on a particular open stretch...

She laughs.

"Trust me," she says, turning to look at him with a glint in her eyes. "I haven't forgotten."

Her smile is entirely teasing.

So is his.

Even if there's a hint of a smug little grin on his face, too.

Doc pulls back to match their pace and decides that a little bit of conversation can't hurt.

"So who taught you how to ride," he asks. "If y'don't mind tellin'."

Her eyes are focused out toward the horizon.

"My daddy," she answers simply.

After some time she adds, "And one of our hired hands. When my father wasn't available, which he sometimes couldn't be, John would show me about the farm. Taught me how to handle a pitchfork, and a shovel, and a rifle too, when needed."

"All important stuff, though have t'admit it's hard to picture you with a rifle in those pretty hands," he says, before he glances over at her. "Not like I'm sayin' you ain't any good, just not that many strong women in the world, you know?"

He muses on that a moment.

"Alex was married to another one of the few, Susan McSween. Heard she's doin' well with cattle," he comments, idly. "And I know what it's like to have to learn from people other than your parents, I was little when he went away in the War."

She laughs good-naturedly, nodding her head.

"A woman has to protect herself, same as anyone," she smiles. "I'm not saying I'm some sort of gunslinger; not in present company, at least. I always preferred my pen to anything. But there were critters 'round the farm--coyotes and snakes and yellow-spotted lizards--and the animals needed protecting.

"You still keep in touch?" she asks, in reference to Susan McSween.

"Written her a few times," he nods a bit, thinking on it. "Last wrote her when..."

My son was born.

Doc thinks on it a moment, like he can't remember the date. "Think it was when I was gettin' settled in New York City, when I'd gotten my job at the school," he says. "It took awhile to get myself someplace where I wasn't wanted," he adds. "And after Alex was killed, I didn't think she'd want to talk to me, frankly."

She turns to look at him, brow creased.

"How did he die?" she asks, though she imagines she already knows the answer.

"Alex was a partner in Mr. Tunstall's store and his ranch," he explains. "We'd been fightin' with Murphy and Dolan for seven months when we got word that they were planning on killing Alex. We rode up to Lincoln to get him out and we were going to head to Mexico, when we realized it was a trap to get us all in one place. Murphy and Dolan were smart -- they had the chance to end the War right there, all of us in one house."

His eyes are focused on the horizon as he talks.

"Called the Cavalry down from Fort Sumner to 'keep an eye on things' and after a day of bein' holed up in the house they set fire to it. We made our break, Susan had been safe for awhile but Alex stayed up there with us until we made a run for it."

Doc's quiet a moment.

"Charlie got killed by John Kinney, we lost Steve too. Chavez made it out, and so did I," he touches his left shoulder, almost to rub at it. "Took one to the shoulder, and Billy got hit a few times but we made it out. Alex was hollerin' at us to run and they shot him down, no reason. Billy killed Murphy and then...the War was over. Chavez went West, Billy went South, and I went East -- ended up at Milliways two days later for the first time."

"Oh god," she whispers, imagining him and his companions trapped inside a burning building. Imagining him watch as his friends are mowed down. Imagining bullets ripping through his flesh.

She shudders.

When she turns to look at him, her eyes are dark with untold emotion. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize the War... I mean to say, I didn't know how deeply involved you were with that. That... that's awful. I'm so sorry."

Doc glances over at her, and nods.

"We were the Regulators. And we were good enough that Murphy was scared, and that got us the Cavalry down. We were good but we weren't that good, you know? Doctor Tam and Zhaan did a might fine job of patchin' me up when I stumbled in here the first time."

He thinks on that for a moment.

"For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind: it hath no stalk: the bud shall yield no meal: if so be it yield, the strangers shall swallow it up. Hosea, eight-seven. Murphy and his boys started it when they killed John and we made certain that they got the end of it like they was supposed to."

Stories like this have always interested Katherine. Her daddy would tell her war stories at night sometimes, as they sat near the fireplace and he had her work at her embroidery (despite her protests).

But despite the thrill that rakes through her as she imagines the tale in all its fullness, she realizes that it isn't quite so poetic when it's happened to someone she knows personally.

"I'm glad you made it out all right," she remarks quietly, fingers tightening slightly around the reins. "You did what you had to do, but all the same..."

Pause.

"It sounds mighty dangerous. Your friends... I'm sorry."

"It is mighty dangerous," he agrees. "But somebody's got to be brave enough to stand up against the bad folk and put their foot down, say they ain't gonna take no shit anymore."

Doc winces a little at the swear, mentally kicking himself but he doesn't correct it, this time, and just nods instead. "I suppose the one consolation is that they died doin' the right thing. We're all pals, y'see, and that...that means a lot when you don't really got no family in the world."

Katherine grows very quiet, face turned away from Doc as they slowly move along. For quite some time the only thing you can hear is the clip-clop of hooves.

But somebody's got to be brave enough to stand up against the bad folk and put their foot down

"My father died about two years back," she says. Her voice is muffled as her face is still turned away. "Our neighbors down the hill kept a few Negro men as 'hired help.' But I'm afraid there are a lot of folk in Texas, still having trouble understanding the definition of the new constitution.

"My daddy was hoping to help several of their boys get over to San Antonio, where they could get honest work with some friends of our family, so he helped them sneak out and hid them away."

She strokes Duncan's mane absently and finally turns her clear eyes back towards Doc. "They shot him dead, our neighbors. Through the heart, while he was off hunting deer."

She turns back to the horizon and nudges her horse forward. "Sheriff called it a hunting accident."

I suppose the one consolation is that they died doin' the right thing

Doc meets her eyes when she turns her head towards him, and his are just a little bit dark as he listens to her tell him about her father being killed. Murdered. A shot like that wasn't an accident, no matter if the Sheriff said so himself.

His fingers curl tight around the reins.

"Seems it ain't too often you can trust the word of the law, these days," he comments, and there's a hint of almost anger in his voice at the entire situation. Calling it an accident. A young woman without her daddy after her mother had died, without family. Bullshit.

Doc pulls in a deep breath to settle his temper down and then glances over at her.

"For what it's worth, know it ain't much to hear words when you're hurtin' from losin' someone," he says. "I'm sorry t'hear it."

"Seems so," she says quietly.

Clip-clop
Clip-clop
Clip-clop...

At length she turns back to him, a perfectly crafted smile on her face. "It's all right. We all have our own ghosts to carry."

Despite it all, sympathy still manages to shine in her eyes.

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