A jolt went through the outlaw’s spine. “The hell’d ya just say?!” He asks quickly, eyes widening in surprise.
No. This could not be happening.
He’d thought Clara Williams was a grown woman–maybe she killed someone, maybe she simply ran away, maybe she wasn’t even bad at all. But of all the possibilities he’d thought of, none of them pointed to the fact that Clara Williams was, in actuality…
…a kid.
“Y-ya mean-”
The girl–Clara, nodded her head, brushing off the skirt of her dress. “Yes, mister. I-I’m Clara Williams…but why are you looking for me? Did Mother and Father worry that much-”
At the mention of the kid’s folks, Eugene breathed a sigh of relief. So that was what this was about. The girl had probably wandered off or ran away, and her parents were likely worried sick. That was why the bounty was so high; it wasn’t for a wanted fugitive or criminal, it was a pair of parents who wanted their child back.
So this would be easy.
“Uh…yeah, kid,” Eugene reassured, quickly coming up with a lie, “They’re-they’re so worried about ya, they’d do anythin’ to get ya back, so they sent me. I’ll take ya home, don’t worry.”
“Oh…” Clara’s smile quickly returned, appearing relieved. “Well, thank you, mister, I’m glad you found me. I was so lost, I didn’t know how to get back home-”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get ya back to yer folks,” the bounty hunter interrupted, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. This was probably one of the easiest jobs he’d ever had. She wasn’t a criminal, she wasn’t trying to run…hell, he didn’t even have to use his lasso.
And for $5000, too. Eugene couldn’t even begin to imagine what he could do with that kind of money. And with the $200 from turning in Lewis Carter…he’d be set for a while.
As the bounty hunter began to lead the girl back to his horse, he couldn’t stop thinking about the money. He’d be practically rich with that kind of dough, though he’d probably have to hide it somewhere. Even an experienced gunslinger such as himself knew not to keep all your money in one place, and it was even dumber to keep it on you. He’d already been robbed once in his life, he didn’t need to be robbed again.
“Gee, how did you even know how to find me, mister?” Clara asked from beside him, practically bouncing up and down on her toes.
“Oh, I just- I just followed my gut, ya know,” Eugene answered truthfully, not looking her in the eye. “And ya don’ need to call me ‘mister.’ Eugene is fine.”
He didn’t know why he told her that. He’d be returning the kid to her parents soon, anyways, there was no need to lose the formalities and make it seem like they were friends…but he hated being called ‘mister’ by little things like Clara. Scared men, sure, it gave him power over them, made it clear they feared Eugene.
But little Clara was just so small and sweet, it seemed weird for her to call him that. Besides, the kid must be scared out of her goddamn mind. Eugene didn’t know if she’d run away or wandered off, but from the way she spoke before about being unable to find her way home, it seemed like the latter. There was no need for her to be calling him ‘mister’ when the little one was lost.
“Alright,” the girl conceded, still smiling slightly. “Say, what’s on your face?”
Eugene frowned, confused. “My face? What, ya mean my beard?” He rubbed his hand over it for a second, the hair tickling his palm.
“No, no, that thing by your mouth.”
“My scar?”
“Uh huh,” Clara nodded.
“It’s just…a scar, that’s all,” the bounty hunter replied, confused as to why she would ask something like that.
“Why’s it white?” The kid continued.
“It’s old,” Eugene grumbled, feeling his patience wearing thin again, “...like me.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he saw Whiskey begin to come into sight. “Ya mean to tell me ya never seen a scar before?”
“Can’t say I have,” Clara replied honestly, clasping her hands behind her back as she followed Eugene.
The outlaw raised an eyebrow, looking at the girl curiously. She wasn’t lying, he could tell. In his experience, kids hardly lied about such trivial matters, and if they did, they were pretty bad at it. Clara seemed relaxed and genuinely curious, as if the features of Eugene were something she’d never seen before.
“Never seen a gun or a scar…” the bounty hunter mused, curious and confused. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ya been livin’ under a rock or somethin’, kid? ‘Cause yer askin’ some weird questions.”
She quieted for a moment, looking remorseful. “Sorry.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Eugene responded with a gentle smile, his heart doing that weird clenching thing again. What was wrong with him? “Yer just wonderin’, that’s all. I understand. It’s just that most people yer age’ve already seen guns and scars…we live in the wild lands, afterall.”
Finally, he reached Whiskey, patting the horse on the snout fondly. “Hey there, boah…ya don’t mind a bit more weight, do ya?”
The Palomino neighed in response.
Eugene smirked, petting its nose again. He glanced over at Clara, who stared at the tall stallion with wide eyes, before looking at Whiskey again. “Don’t worry,” he added in a whisper, “I’m sure she weighs nothin’.”
The girl, enraptured with the sight of the beautiful horse, watched Whiskey as he simply stood there, nuzzling Eugene’s hand. “Can I pet him, mister?” she finally asked.
“Go on,” Eugene nodded his permission, before a thought struck him. Sure, it wasn’t too big a deal, but he didn’t have to do it either. Still, something in his heart said he should.
“C’mere,” the outlaw waved his hand, ushering the kid over, before lifting her up under the armpits and raising her to face the horse’s face. “There ya are…say hi.”
“Hello,” Clara shyly said to Whiskey, looking into his dark eyes, “I’m…Clara.”
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Eugene’s lips, his heart clenching as he watched the little one talk to his horse. She looked like she’d never been up close to one before, which was still so strange to the bounty hunter. Never seen a gun, a scar, or a horse…what was wrong with this kid?
“Alright,” Eugene finally mumbled, setting her down again, “Let’s get ya back to yer folks.” He placed his foot in the stirrup of Whiskey’s saddle, hoisting himself up atop the horse. Clara watched with curiosity and interest.
“How do I…?” she started to say, but Eugene reached down and offered a hand.
“Grab my arm and I’ll pull ya up,” he instructed, and Clara followed carefully, placing both hands around the man’s forearm. Eugene strained, picking her up, though she didn’t weigh much, just as he had predicted before.
“Up ya go…” he muttered, lifting her till she was atop the horse, placing the girl in front of him on the saddle. “Now I’ll keep one arm on ya if that’s alright, just to make sure ya don’t fall off.”
“Alright,” Clara nodded, though she seemed more interested in the horse, excited to be riding it.
With her permission, Eugene placed a hand around her waist, careful to only touch her lightly. She didn’t seem to mind, of course, but the outlaw was still conscious of being gentle with the little thing, not wanting to scare her. The other hand held the reins of his horse, and he tapped Whiskey’s flanks again.
“Yah, boah,” the bounty hunter said, making the horse trot forward. He could move faster, of course, but once again, the kid looked like she’d never even seen a horse before, let alone rode one.
She startled a tiny bit when the horse started out, but since Whiskey was trotting gently, Clara soon settled down, instead asking another question. “Why do you say things to him?”
Eugene tried not to sigh, the constant questions getting on his nerves, though he felt she couldn’t help it. The girl was just being curious, after all.
“It’s to…make ‘im go, y’know? It’s to make ‘im move,” the outlaw explained, “But I don’t hurt ‘im at all, if ya know what I mean. Some folks use sharp spurs to make the horse go fast. But I don’t like that. Ya gotta be gentle with yer animals.”
“Gee, that sure is something, mister,” Clara said thoughtfully, “You seem like a nice man.”
“Oh, I ain’t nowhere near nice…” Eugene answered cryptically, though he would not admit to the poor girl the things he’d done. “And what’d I say ‘bout callin’ me ‘mister?’”
“...oh. Sorry,” the kid apologized, sounding sheepish. It made Eugene smile, though he knew she couldn’t see it.
“Yer alright,” the bounty hunter sighed, “Just don’t like bein’ called that, is all. Makes me feel old.”
“Are you old?”
He snorted, trying not to laugh at that. “Yeah…I’m gettin’ old. But I still got some fight left in me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t get pushed ‘round.”
“Hmm,” Clara sounded like she was thinking, her soft voice humming as they rode across the plains. “What do you mean, pushed around?”
The outlaw’s eyebrows lowered, confuddled by the girl’s strange comments and questions yet again. She sounded so confused by even the most simple of common knowledge, as well as in awe of everything she saw.
“Well- I mean, I don’t let folks push me ‘round, don’t let ‘em walk all over me, ya know?” He cleared his throat, trying to dumb it down for her. “I’m my own man, I make my own decisions.”
“Huh,” she had one of those quiet moments again, when the child would go silent as if in deep thought. Eugene, who usually enjoyed peace and quiet, felt unsettled by her silent thinking, however, as it didn’t feel right. The girl was a chatterbox; she couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut. So the times she did, it was important.
“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, kid?” Eugene grunted, eyebrows furrowing in thought.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Clara responded, “I’m just…thinking about things, that’s all. Are we almost there?”
“Think so,” the cowboy murmured, unaware that she was changing the subject, trying to divert attention away from whatever the hell she was thinking about. “How old are ya, kid?”
“Twelve,” the girl mumbled, her voice quieter now, but it gradually regained its previous volume. “Mother says I am growing to be a fine young lady, and that I’m really quite smart.”
“Are ya now?” Eugene had to fight back a smile, finding her enthusiasm cute. Once again, there was that tiny familiarity in the back of the outlaw’s mind, like a story he’d heard long ago. Why did it seem like he’d known this girl before?
“I am,” she said excitedly, and Eugene could practically hear the grin in her voice. “Maybe I can go off to school and be a teacher!”
“Well…we’ll just have to see,” the bounty hunter said hesitantly, not wanting to ruin her idea of becoming educated. It wasn’t that he doubted her ability, she seemed like a bright girl, but women just weren’t given the chances she thought they were.
But he couldn’t tell her that.
“Do you think I could be a teacher?” Clara asked.
“I- well, sure…yeah, ya could be a teacher,” Eugene finally conceded, thinking a white lie would be better than a painful truth.
He didn’t want to break it to her; didn’t want to discourage her dreams, even though he knew they may not come to fruition.
As if the Lord himself were watching Eugene and decided to save him from potentially making the girl sad, the mansion Clara lived in came into view.
“There it is!” the kid exclaimed, excited. “Wow, mister, you found it!”
“Eugene,” the outlaw corrected, but smiled a little bit. Soon, this would all be over. The girl would be home, he’d get paid, and he’d never have to see her face again.
He’d…never see her again.
But Eugene pushed that guilt and regret out of his mind immediately. It was just a kid. A small, annoying kid who wouldn’t shut up and asked too many questions.
It’d be best if she was with her parents.
“C’mon, boah,” the outlaw had Whiskey speed up a bit, not a full gallop just yet, though it was enough to frighten Clara.
He could feel the kid tense up in front of him, small hands gripping the saddle tightly, as if she was afraid to fall off. Eugene contemplated slowing down, but he felt too angry to do so. The outlaw couldn’t place where the anger was coming from, or why he was feeling it…but it was present enough to make him want to get rid of this girl as quickly as possible.
Slowing down once they were near the front of the house, Eugene swung off his horse, his heart clenching with emotion, and felt if Clara asked another damn question he’d snap. But then he saw her relieved expression to see her home, and he let out a breath to calm himself. He couldn’t take out his anger on the kid, even if he wanted to blame her.
‘She’s just a kid,’ he said to himself, ‘It ain’t her damn fault.’
“C’mon, now,” Eugene held his arms out to the kid, helping get her down from the Palomino. “There ya go…see? I got ya home, just like I said.”
“Thank you, mister, thank you so much,” Clara started to say, smiling wide.
The bounty hunter scoffed, trying not to roll his eyes. “I’d think ya’d stop with the ‘mister’ by now, but I guess not.”
Doors creaked open, and Eugene turned to find two people standing in the mansion’s open doorway–a man and a woman, dressed in fine clothes, looking at the bounty hunter and the girl for a moment, before stepping forward.
“Clara, where have you been?” the woman immediately asked, rushing down the stairs towards her daughter. “Oh my goodness, we were so-” she stopped herself for a moment, glancing at Eugene. “We were so…worried.”
Eugene’s eyebrows drew together at that. Perhaps she was just worried, mothers tend to do that. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was worried sick, but the fact it took her a moment to say what she meant and the glance at him made the outlaw pause.
“I’m alright, Mother,” Clara replied dutifully, looking up at the woman with a small smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wander off, I just saw one of the Danaus plexippus flying outside the garden. A monarch butterfly. It was so beautiful, I followed it-”
“Young lady, you know you are not allowed outside the property,” her father sternly warned, arms crossed over his chest. Golden jewelry and a pocket watch glinted off his expensive clothes, oozing money. Eugene was tempted to figure out a way to snatch something from him, but didn’t want to steal from the girl’s parents. And besides, the $5000 should be enough for now.
“I know, Father, but-”
“No. Buts.” The man continued, eye twitching with anger. Eugene swallowed, feeling uncomfortable standing there as he watched Clara’s parents berate her. To be forbidden from leaving the property seemed a bit much…but maybe it was because her folks were such rich prudes.
Clearing his throat, Eugene shifted on his feet, scratching his beard for a moment. “I’d hate to interrupt…Mr. And Mrs. Williams?” he guessed.
The patriarch nodded, looking the bounty hunter up and down. “Indeed,” he said, “I suppose you found our commission, then?”
“Yep,” Eugene sighed, readjusting how his hat sat on his head, “Found her in’a place called Willow Run…she was alright, don’ worry. A bit lost, sure, but I got ‘er back here fine.”
Mrs. Williams stood up then, taking in Eugene in turn. “Well, I believe you deserve your reward, then.”
“Yeah…that’d be nice,” the outlaw knew he could always refuse the money, appearing to be honorable, but he truly needed the cash. And these folks looked like they had plenty of it.
Clara’s father nodded once again, before snapping his fingers, and a servant walked out of the house, carrying a briefcase. $5000 was a lot of money, after all, and Eugene felt the weight of the paper once he was handed the case.
“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” the bounty hunter said, opening the briefcase for a moment to check it was all there. At the sight of all the bills stacked atop each other, Eugene let out a low whistle. “Jesus…”
“...yes, well I suppose you’ll be leaving, then?” the mother asked, watching Eugene with the eyes of a crow.
“Yeah…guess I’ll be leavin’, then,” Eugene sighed, glancing over at Clara once again. The girl had been suspiciously quiet, watching her parents and the outlaw. She didn’t look particularly excited or even sad, but he guessed the little thing might miss him, if only a little.
He supposed he might miss her, too.
“See ya ‘round, kiddo,” the bounty hunter tipped his hat, turning around and storing the case full of money on the back of Whiskey, before mounting the horse.
“C’mon, boah,” he kicked the horse to start, beginning to ride away from the mansion. He hadn’t gotten far before Whiskey slowed down, front left hoof lifting up more than the others, and the animal kicked a few times. Eugene’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern.
“Woah, woah, boah,” he slows the horse to a stop, jumping down to inspect the hoof. “Easy, easy…” the bounty hunter whispered, kneeling down to lift up Whiskey’s hoof.
Jammed between his horseshoe and hoof was a piece of wood, likely picked up from Willow Run.
“Aw, it’s alright, boah…” Eugene comforted, grabbing the splinter and gently pulling it out. “Yer alright, boah.”
The bounty hunter stood back up, preparing to mount the stallion again when he heard the sound of raised voices. He wasn’t too far from Clara’s mansion, Eugene had just turned the corner when Whiskey started acting up.
Turning, the outlaw watches the girl’s parents berate her about wandering off, even though it clearly wasn’t her fault. She looked so small standing there as her folks continuously lectured Clara on her safety.
Eugene shrugged, passing the constant yelling off as what good parents do for their children, especially when their well-being is involved. The bounty hunter hadn’t had much of that, really, but he remembered an overprotective mother who babied him and always peppered his young face with kisses.
It was a normal lecture…right?
But the father’s voice in particular was rising at a steady pace, till he sounded like his vocal chords alone could break down any mountain. That was…strange. Clara had just wandered off, and as Eugene had reassured the two adults, she had been just fine. There wasn’t a scratch on her that the bounty hunter could see, and she didn’t seem scared at the time, just lost.
Now the girl’s eyes were wide from what Eugene could see, fear visible even from how far away he was. Fear…of her parents.
The bounty hunter’s heart clenched, and he felt his throat tighten for a moment. That fear…it looked familiar. It made him want to step in front of her and protect the poor girl. But he was too far away right now.
Finally, with a last yell, he saw the father’s hand raise, before it crashed down on the poor kid’s cheek. The slapping sound made a jolt go through Eugene’s spine, and all of a sudden he felt like he was ten years old.
‘No,’ Eugene told himself, gripping the side of his saddle for support as he felt he might tip over. ‘It ain’t him, that bastard’s been dead for years…yer fine, yer fine…’
He pushed the memories aside for the moment, though Clara’s pained cry and following sobs made his hands shake, and Eugene leaned himself against Whiskey.
“Forget about it,” he whispered as he heard the voices fade, the trio reentering their lavish home, “She’s just an annoying girl, she’ll be alright, and ya’ve already got the money. Just go.”
But there’s tears…Lord if Eugene didn’t find that familiar. The sheer audacity of her father to lay a hand on her caused the outlaw to shake, a low growl rising in his throat before he yanked the saddle bag shut tight with anger, biting back a curse.
Eugene forced himself onto the saddle, holding the reins in a tight grip. He could leave right now. Leave, and never come back, with $5000 dollars on the back of his horse, he could be rich.
Although she was gone, the girl’s cries rang in his ears.
“Stop it,” the bounty hunter gritted out, knuckles turning white as he held the reins in a death grip. He wanted to let his anger out, anger at a pair of parents for hurting their little girl. He wanted to punch something. Anything.
But all he could see was her innocent eyes shining as she gave him that bright smile, asking Eugene a million questions. And he had the patience to answer each one.
“Just. Go.” Eugene muttered, trying to force his heels to kick Whiskey’s side, but they always stopped halfway through the motion.
And all he can think about is the fact that he returned a girl to her parents, one of which had just hit her. Hit the damn girl.
Eugene could leave. He could leave right now, and drown his stupid thoughts in liquor like his bastard of a father would, and forget the girl ever existed. The money could be explained away as his luck, that he had stolen it from some rich bastard. She didn’t have to haunt his memories.
But she did.
He couldn’t stop himself now. Eugene had to do this. He had to make sure this girl never grew up with parents who hit her. He wouldn’t allow it. Not one bit.
“Yah, boah,” Eugene spurred the horse forward, riding a ways away from the house, toward a shed near the end of the property. He couldn’t take her now, of course, but the bounty hunter had a plan for once the night fell.
Stopping by the shed, the outlaw hid Whiskey inside, behind a few stacks of straw, before he settled himself on the ground beside the Palomino, letting out a breath. This was risky. This was so, very, risky, and he could end up with a bounty so large he could pay for an entire town’s funeral after being strung up after this.
But he didn’t care.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
