Miss Morgan

Thirty-Seven

June 1899
-Ivy-

"You busy Ivy?" Javier asks, hunched over a table cleaning his revolver.

"No." I answer.

"I heard about a house, could be interesting. Couple of fellers I heard in town said it was really... freakish." He explains.

"Freakish?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Family local bogeymen, I guess... but they're crooked in every way. These boys thought they was sitting on a lot of cash. They're highway robbers, kidnappers, apparently. They're well hidden in the woods. I know how it sounds, but there ain't much risk of getting caught."

"Let's go. Maybe you can help me with something  in Valentine when we're done." I smile and follow him to the horses.

"Sure." He answers. He helps me up behind him on Boaz's back and we hit the road.

"You still haven't found Sparrow?" He asks.

"No. I went down to the border but a Pinkerton agent found me. Told me he killed Mac."

"I'm sorry, Ivy. I know you were sweet on each other."

"That's the thing though, Javier. I haven't cried once since I found out. I should be more upset, right?"

"You want my opinion?"

"'Course." I answer. Javier always has good advice.

"I think it's because you knew it was only temporary. It wasn't meant to be. Please know, I mean no offense when I say that."

"We really weren't good for each other, were we?" I sigh.

"I think he was a chapter, not the whole story. Everything happens for a reason. But Ivy, I actually wanted to bring you along for this because I promised Mac I'd keep you safe in Blackwater and I feel bad that I didn't do that. I'm sorry for what happened."

"It's alright, Javier. I'm alright now, there's no sense in dwelling on the past. Like you said, everything happens for a reason."

"Exactly..." he hesitates a moment. "So, have you been practicing guitar anymore since you got back? I thought you were really getting good before that Blackwater mess." Javier had been teaching me to play guitar for a while before everything happened. I should get back to playing.

"I haven't. I haven't practiced any Spanish either."

"Oh, well that's a lost cause." He laughs. "You're terrible at Spanish."

"I'm not that bad!"

"You know when you were tryin' to tell me good night you were tellin' me I have a nice ass, right?"

"What? No I was sayin' buenas nalgas, that's what you said!" I argue, feeling my cheeks burn.

"I said it's  buenas noches. Nalgas means buttocks." He laughs.

"Well... maybe I was just testing your own skills." I try to joke it off.

"Right, of course you were."

He steers Boaz off the road and we dismount once we get to a spot north of the Cumberland Forest. I follow him through the trees, up to the top of a hill that overlooks a large house with a smaller cabin to the left and a big barn behind them.

"Big place, right?" He's excited about this.

"Must be a lot of people livin' here." I mutter.

"Oh yeah, and apparently they've been living in isolation here so long, they've started talking in their own weird dialect." Javier smiles at me.