"Jane, wake up," said a gruff voice with warm hands. They shook her awake, and she opened her eyes to see Arthur standing there. His hair was ruffled, and she noticed that big bags rested underneath her eyes.
It was early morning, and it was still pretty dark out.
Sitting up, she tried the rub the sleepiness out of her tired eyes. "What... what is it, Arthur?" She asked groggily, her voice still not awake all the way.
He grabbed her hands and helped her stand up. "We're gonna go rob a stage coach. We need a woman as a decoy, and I figured you'd be happy to get out of chores for a day."
That woke her up. "Oh, yeah. That sounds like fun." Shivering in the brisk morning hair, she grabbed the cream shawl off of Mary-Beth's chest.
Arthur chuckled. "Fun? You nearly hurled your lunch after a twenty five dollar bounty."
"Shut it," she said, wrapping the shawl around her shoulders tightly.
She followed him to the campfire, where two other men stood. She recognized them from around camp, but couldn't recall their names.
"Jane, this is Bill," he introduced, gesturing to a big, chubby man that spat on the ground.
Charming, she thought.
"That's John," He said. John was thin, and had a big scar across his face. His hair was long and scraggly.
He nodded to her.
"So what's the plan?" She asked, yawning.
Arthur handed her a cup of coffee that he had just poured and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Bill got a tip for a stagecoach that had a lot of cash and valuables in board. You're a damsel in distress that they happened to come across, who's horse has tragically died. When you have them stopped, that when we come in."
She sipped on the hot coffee as she thought it over. It seemed simple enough. "Alright. I'm in." She paused. "I get part of the cut, right?"
That made the three men laugh.
"I like her," said John. He directed his gaze back to her. "Yeah," He finally answered in his raspy voice. "Half goes to the camp, and the other half gets split between us."
Bill rubbed his hands together and rocked on his heals. "Alright, guys, and girlie, let's get going. I've got a cravin' for gold."
They crossed camp, trying to stay quiet as to not wake the others. Slipping onto their horses, they rode off into the quiet morning.
Not so quiet for long, she thought.
As the sun slowly began to creep its way over the far mountain, casting red and orange hues into the sky, the gang rode across the hills. Eventually, they ended up on a ridge, overlooking the valley.
A few deer and stray birds created a peaceful scenery, which they all knew would be disrupted soon.
"When's this coach comin' in, Bill?" Arthur asked impatiently.
Bill scanned the terrain. "In a few minutes, I think."
Arthur nodded. "Alright. Jane, come with me. Let's get you ready."
She trailed after him, down the rocky hill and into the valley.
"Alright," Arthur called to her over his shoulder. "You'll stay here- I'll take your horse- and when the coach comes through, play 'damsel in distress,' or whatever, and get it to stop. That's when me, Bill, and John will come down." He stopped where two roads intersected. "This should do."
She stopped Apollo and dismounted, clutching the fabric of her dress tightly. "Ok. What if they don't stop?"
He shrugged and grabbed her horse's reins. "Chase it, I guess. Oh, and grab that pistol off your horse. Make sure to keep it hidden."
She did as he said, and hid the gun behind her back. As he rode off, back to the men, the butterflies in her stomach reappeared. She had never robbed a stagecoach before.
She waited anxiously for a few moments before the familiar sound of horse hooves and wheels wobbling over rocks was audible.
Swallowing her anxiety, she stepped out onto dusty road. "Help!" she faked, putting on a new persona. "Please, sir, my horse died. I need help."
Two men on the top, who she guessed were guards (they had rifles), glanced at each other before the one pulled the horses to a halt. Mainly because they were about to trample her.
"What's your name, Miss?" The tall lanky one with a thick accent asked.
"Jane Mulligan," she said, gripping the gun behind her tightly.
"What's the holdup?" A feminine voice called. Jane froze as a young woman's face poked out, along with two young children. One girl and one boy. Oh no, she though.
Suddenly, she heard John's voice call out from behind her. "This is a holdup! Put your guns down or expect a hole through your head."
No! She mentally screamed.
The men circled the wagon as the two men put together what was going on. But instead of putting their guns down, the raised them.
Jane pulled out her pistol and aimed at the two.
"You bi-" The shorter one yelled, seething, but Arthur cut him off.
"That's no way to talk to a damn lady! Now open up the lock box, or you're gonna get shot." Arthur had his revolver out, and dismounted from his horse.
The man did nothing. Then, the first shot rang out. Jane ran behind a rock, next to Arthur. Fingers shaking, she aimed her gun as countless shots rang out, causing her ears to ring. There were many shouts, but a child's scream seemed to be louder than the rest.
"There's a damn child?" Arthur yelled.
"Yes," she said back, trying to speak over the gunshots. "I didn't have time to tell you."
Jane peaked over the rock. The two children were screaming in the coach. Their mother had them pressed against her, and was doing her best to calm them. One child, the boy, was throwing quite a fit.
He slipped out of his mother's grip, and vaulted himself out of the coach.
Jane's heart stopped. Then, without thinking, she left the safety of the rock to the middle of the fighting, where the child was.
As bullets wizzed past her, she scooped the screaming child up. Now she was standing in between the fighting men.
She aimed and fired at one of them. It hit him in the head, just above the ear. Hands trembling, she held the child tighter and darted behind the stagecoach.
The boy was hysterical. "Shh," she calmed. He kept crying and kicking.
Suddenly, the shooting stopped. Jane peeked her head around, and discovered that both of the guards were dead.
She set the child down, who ran to his mother. She cuddled him and hugged him, crying into his hair.
"Is everyone alright?" She asked as the men reappeared from behind their cover.
Aa Arthur's gaze rested upon her, his eyes grew wide. "Goddammit!" He yelled as he rushed towards her.
It was then that she noticed a red liquid pouring down her leg. The rushing feeling of the fight wore off all at once, and she was hit with a massive amount of pain in her right thigh.
I've been shot!?! Was all she could think.
Her knees buckled as Arthur rushed to her, and not a moment too soon. He caught her as she fell, and swooped her up.
The burning hot sensation traveled through her leg and across her stomach, and eventually webbed up her back.
She slipped in and out of consciousness, hearing the men yelling, feeling Arthur gently slapping her face to keep her awake. As she was begging to pass out to relive the overwhelming pain, she felt herself get put on the back of a horse.
Then, the feeling of plummeting into nothing overtook her.
~~~~
A pain worse than she ever felt before overtook her. The world and blackness fought each other, seemingly dragging her either way. She caught a wisp of a few faces, and with her brain trying to cope with the unbearable searing pain in her leg, it was only able to produce a few names.
Arthur...Grimshaw...Pearson...Dutch
One face kept reappearing and was the name her head kept repeating.
Arthur.... Arthur
She thought that pain before was bad. What felt like a thousand wasps stinging her at one, pulling her flesh out, suddenly overtook her whole being.
Without her consent, her throat let out a bloodcurdling scream. She tried to move, to get away from the pain, but strong hands held her in place. She struggled and screamed as the pain burned into her very being.
Then, her body and mind submitted back to the nothingness.
~~~~
She woke up suddenly, feeling warm and sweaty, with a humid wind blowing on her face. Blinking, she regained consciousness of her surroundings.
She laid on a cot, underneath an open tent and next to a wagon.
The memory of being shot suddenly popped up in her mind. Her other hand flew to her leg, which was bandaged up, and still throbbed, but was significantly better than before. Her blue dress underneath the covers had was stained crimson with her blood, which made her woozy at the sight of. There was hole in it. Jane figured that they cut it to get to the wound.
On the little table next to her, there was a box with a note on top, that read, "Sorry about your dress."
She placed the box on her lap. Inside, there was another dress. She held it up. It was another wrap dress, but this one was white instead of navy blue.
Smiling and neatly stuffing it back in the box, she noticed a flower on the small table, and a picture of a woman. On the wagon, a few pictures were strung up across it. They were of men and women. In one, there looked to be a younger version of Arthur.
Was this Arthur's tent?
"Feelin' better der, Miss Jane?" Sean asked, popping out of nowhere. He took a swig from the bottle that never seemed to leave his hand.
She smiled at the cheerful man. "No, not really." Looking off to the fire, she searched for Arthur. "Do you think you could get Arthur? I need to ask him somethings."
He nodded and gave a comical bow. "Any-ting for you, M'lady." He bounced off, leaving Jane along once again.
She pushed the covers off her, as it was stiflingly hot out. Not even insects were flying around. Jane though that they would probably overheat to death in the hot sun rays. The sun was directly overhead, so she figured that it was about noon. She made a mental note that she had to get a pocket watch.
Her eyes laid on Arthur, who appeared by the tent.
"You're finally awake?" He teased.
"I guess so."
He sat down on another worn stool next to him. "How's your leg feeling?"
She gingerly touched her leg over her dress, and felt the thick bandage beneath it. "Like it got shot."
He grinned. "I wonder why?"
"I haven't the slightest," she said sarcastically. A more serious look appeared on her face. "So, what all happened?"
He sighed. "Well, John and I rushed you back to camp, and you passed out in the process. Bill stayed to get the money and see the women and kids off. When we got back, Miss Grimshaw and Pearson and a couple other of us got the bullet out. You put up one hell of a fight."
"I do remember parts of that," she said bitterly, recalling the terrible pain.
"I bet. You screamed so loud that all the birds around flew away."
"It was the worst thing I've ever felt," she paused, and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, but the way."
He returned it. "It wasn't just me."
"I know, but still." She ran her tongue over the roof of her dry mouth, longing for a sip of water. "So, how long have I been out?"
"Two days."
"Two days?" She stammered.
He laughed. "Yeah. I've been sleeping on my bedroll those past two nights," he said, stretching backwards. "I feel bad that you have to sleep like that every night."
She twiddled her fingers together. "Well, thank you." She glanced at the table, where the box with the dress in it sat. "So, who got the dress for me. It really wasn't necessary
His cheeks turned a light shade of pink, but she didn't notice it. "Uh, I did. With the some of my money that we got from the coach. I'm real sorry, but we had to cut part of your dress off to get to the wound," he said awkwardly, winning an amused smile from Jane. "I figured that would wouldn't want to be out like that for all camp see, so we covered you up and I got you another dress do change into, cause you can't exactly wear pants right now."
She couldn't help but giggle at the sight of the big, burly man so flustered in front of her. "It's alright. Thank you for valiantly protecting my scandalous leg from everyone."
He gave her a look of faux annoyance. "Hey, with rats like Micah around, I would rather you be safe than sorry."
She smiled gently. "I'm just teasing. Thank you. Can I pay you back?"
He shook his head. "No, it's alright." Suddenly reaching into his satchel, he pulled out a stack of money. "That's reminds me; here's your cut." He handed it to her, and she looked at in surprise.
It added up to 75 dollars. "Thanks," said, placing it on the table. "There must of been a lot of money on the coach."
He nodded. "Yeah. About 600 total."
"Nice," she said. "We should do that again soon."
"Not anytime soon, cowgirl. You're gonna be waiting for your leg to heal for a while."
"How long?"
He looked up, as if searching for answer. "Probably a month until you're back on your feet. More until it's healed all the way."
Her heart sunk. "Really?" She asked hopelessly.
He couldn't help but feel bad for her. All she wanted was to be free, and now she was confined to sitting. "I'm sorry, Jane. But what you did back there, saving that kid, that was real brave."
She looked down and tried to conceal a smile. "Guess my maternal instincts kicked in or something."
He laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just a good person."
"Well, thank you, Arthur. But see where being a good person got me?"
He looked at her, who looked sadly at him. "Life ain't very fair, is it?"
"No, it isn't."