𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒅 & 𝑰 - A Billy the Kid western romance

Disquietude

I finally gave her a name yesterday. My mare. The world always stops spinning when I look her way. She has become my peace. A form of medicine to my periodical loneliness. Hence, her name became Dove. Enough time has passed now, and I permit myself to accept not seeing Milo as often anymore. It's for the best. Every time I head out to see him I carry with me a risk of exposing the fact that Milo hasn't disappeared off on a trip up north. The bald sheriff surely knows all about it since long. He scoffs discreetly at my charades, spinning his little golden star badge on his coat. Despite this, word hasn't spread that their sweet little Milo is a criminal. The sheriff suspiciously doesn't want it known, yet. 

I've seen him thrice since I handed him over three weeks ago, and every occurrence transpires the same. I dismount at the gate, and wait patiently for his precious face to come forth and greet me. He speaks to me through the gate for as long as we can bear the blazing sun. I see Tom sometimes, but never Him. Billy still has me shut out, but it's okay. All I need to feel alright is knowing Milo is alright too. My nightmares have stopped consisting of watching him suffer an assortment of horrible fates, or the men in the hallway. At least partially. Last night I saw mother in one. A normal dream, and it felt wonderful. A perk following having Milo under the gangs care is the eased worry of bringing food to the table every day. I can skip meals some days now, since he isn't home. I miss him, of course, but Jane keeps me company during the day, and we keep meeting every morning like we always have. Our habitual meeting keeps me afloat. I prepare to go see Milo again today, since it's a Monday. 

A week later the cycle repeats. 

And the following, too.

I have gotten into a habit of skipping an increasing amount of meals. My cheeks have hollowed out somewhat, but I am not too worried. This time however I conceal my body with several layers of my  long-sleeved tunics. All of them, actually, since I don't have many. My thinning hair is put up under a hat, and my usual pair of boots cover my calves perfectly. They are beautiful, because they were my mothers. I used to envy her when I was younger each time she slid them on, but I didn't intend to have them passed down to me so soon. My heart aches. They looked much better on her. The shade of brown matched her auburn hair exactly, and the detailing was just her kind. Dove looks as fresh as ever, in contrast to myself. The universe has been blessing us with a persistent cycle of rain the last couple of weeks, and the weeds flourish.

Arriving at the gate, Milo is already outside engaged in conversation with Kit and Cooper, who were also housed there following a dispute they faced with the law. He comes to meet me, but stops in his tracks as he approaches, before jogging the last few meters. Milo reaches out his hand to touch my pale skin. His thumb traces along the bottom of my eye socket, onto my cheekbone. What used to be smooth has become rough and dry. His face images perplexity at the sight of me. His jaw hangs, his beautiful eyes wide in worry. Then suddenly he heads back toward the others, leaving me behind on the other side without as much as a word. The eyes of his friends follow his figure as he passes decisively between them, headed inside.

My limbs loosen, and my arms hang to my sides. A sudden wave of helplessness washes over me. I hadn't imagined Milo would ever refrain from talking to me. I feel like I'm the one locked in, as I realise I have become incapable of reaching him, ever, if he should decide to distance himself from me. My heart feels heavy at the thought.

My focus flickers to one of the windows of the house he had entered. Standing in it is He. Billy looks out at me, fronting a cold expression. I freeze. I hadn't seen his face since leaving Milo, and just like last time, he shuts the blinds. All I want is for Milo to come back out. In despair, I call out to the men that remain outside, but to no avail. Kit and Cooper are the only ones that even acknowledge my existence, looking my way. Kit shakes his head gently, as to let me know that they can't do anything for me. "Please, Kit, just ask him to come back out". Coopers eyes are sorrowful, and none of them answer my request, or even move.

Milo returns again. I allow the weight of worry to drop partially as he emerges from the building. My arms reach toward him, through the gate. Not far behind him, follows Tom. They maintain the silence they have asserted, but a familiar metal cling rings as Tom unlocks the gate, and Milo pulls me inside by my bony wrist. We pass the men out on the yard, into the house they just exit. The wooden panels remind me of home.

"Milo" I try. "Why won't you talk to me?".

The words of another finally strike the air once I'm facing Billy. It feels foreign to stand in front of him once more.

"Why aren't you eating?" He begins.

"What?"

"Why aren't you eating?" He repeats.

"I am" I deflect.

"Not enough, by the looks of you" Milo fills in. Milo's voice sounds fragile, and Billy remains stone cold, just as impossible to read as ever.

I look to my hands, and reach to touch my face. My minds stops, as I catch a look of myself in a gold rimmed mirror. I haven't properly viewed myself in one in what feels like forever. I covered the reflective surfaces we had at home once I begun feeling hollow. I hadn't hated how I looked, but meeting my own eyes was the one thing that brought be back into that dark, dark, abyss. I am falling into it now. My eyes seemed empty back then, like my soul didn't remain. It was uncomfortable. By the time I see myself now, I look like I'm dying. Remaining is the fact that the only time I can't hinder myself from feeling it too, is when I look at my reflection. When I don't see myself I feel fine. So my eyes shoot away from the image.

I didn't notice when Tom and Milo left the room.

Abruptly and inescapably I'm alone with Him, and his gaze finally softens from dull and dark to warm. Those beautifully warm, blue eyes eat me alive.