#nowidow

[pistolslanga]

heard some folks ‘round here call you cassidy, you mind explainin’?

[lowhonor]

@nowidow​  :  ❝  i ain’t afraid of dying.  ❞

they are in the belly of warren valley, following the river on the return to camp. everything is lush, and green, and he’s been debating pausing to take out his camera just to remember it. they’re the only two people on this path, have been alone for a few hours, now, and arthur’s taken the time to enjoy the silence and the company of another without much chatter. he enjoys whatever it is sadie has to say. she’s clever and fierce and scares the shit out of him  —  he’s enjoyed riding out with her whenever they’ve gotten the chance.

he doesn’t pull up on the reins but he thinks about it, for a long while, feeling a frown tug at the corner of his mouth. wonders, briefly, if they should pause and think about what they’ve done. some days, arthur finds that violence needs to be considered in order for it to be real, for it to stick, and they’re fresh off a victory  : the death of an entire camp of o’driscolls, their pockets heavier and eyes clear with the knowledge that colm o’driscoll can lose something, too, even if it means nothing to him. or, well, that’s how arthur’s feeling. he’s got no clue about sadie and wouldn’t dare assume that kind of thing.

he remembers how long he’d spent mourning eliza and isaac. loss like that doesn’t fade. it remains clear - cut forever. it scars deep and runs long. he thinks more often than not that it was their deaths that turned him ugly.  ❝  suits you, not bein’ afraid.  ❞  it’s a simple response, quiet, and the way he says it doesn’t fit quite right in his mouth. it’s a little too soft. doesn’t settle.  ❝  are you —  ❞  it’s as simple as a handful of words, but he struggles more than most folks do with that kind of thing, it seems.  ❝  how’re you feelin’ about things?  ❞  unspoken, unsaid  :  dutch, the gang. he thinks they’ve been sending her on out more often, but arthur’s never there long enough to see it, these days. he feels unable to sit still.

[westpromised]

❝ i’m not much good. you’ll find that out soon yourself. ❞ @ charlotte 👀

"Now, that's just a load of baloney, isn't it? I wouldn't have you belittle yourself under my roof like that."

Life as a homesteader became her; she was rosy-cheeked and lean-faced and her lungs felt fuller than ever they felt before, and the fresh air she breathed in every morning was the same air that carried birdsong to her ears. The music of the forest marred that dreary picture of solitude that Charlotte had envisioned on account of being widowed, so harshly and unexpectedly and early into this their new life; because now it was hers, that life, with Cal under the ground and the soil under her nails and the earth tending to her needs now that she was learning how to carve a life out of the wilderness

She hadn't done so alone; indeed, where would she be without the kindness of strangers? First that man Arthur teaching her how to fend for herself, and now Sadie showing her that a homesteading life did not have to be synonymous with solitude.

And both of them suffering from the same queer affliction of the mind: that unnecessary, unbecoming belittling of the self. Such strong, honest, good selves. Charlotte shook her head.

"Someone with charity on their mind can't not have goodness in their heart, and yet those are the same people so quick to find a fault in themselves. That man who first helped me after Cal died, I told him the same. He taught me how to survive out here on my own, hunting for and skinning rabbits and whatnot, and even in the state he was in! Barely able to stand up on his own two feet owing to all that coughing … and yet he helped. And look at you! You'd think a woman of your skill and sense of adventure would find herself in grander company than my own; but here you are. And I for one am heartily glad for it."

[pistolslanga]

“ you more meat than brains or what. ” // @nowidow​

“ believe the proper response is a thank you ” they  say,  keeping  a  measured  eye  on  their  person  as  they  released  the  heavy  hoof  allowing  the  animal  relief  as  well  sparing  some  for  himself.  the  spot  between  his  shoulder  blades  had  begun  to  perspire  from  being  hunched  over  too  long.     “ mrs. adler. ”     the  gentleman  spoke  their  surname  as  if  it  were  something  new  and  tender  to  the  mouth  as  his  hat  tipped  subtly  toward  them.  perhaps  a  reverent  gesture.  or  an  instinctive  one.

they  moved  a  hand  soothingly  over  the  mare’s  side  as  they  stepped  further  away,  an  assurance,  despite  that  they  couldn’t  even  begin  to  guess  at  the  name  their  owner  had  given  them.  the  people  working  at  the  mills  and  railroad  were  too  careless  with  barbed  wire;  no  matter  how  often  a  decent-natured  soul  removed  them,  or  man  he’d  sent  pulled  them  from  the  roads,  more  would  simply  be  unearthed.  too  late  by  the  frequent  showers  that  often  took  hold  of  strawberry.  this  horse  had  only  been  another  example  that’d  gotten  caught  on  the  business  end  of  its  razor  teeth.

but  he  offers  the  heavily  dressed  woman,  no  soft  condolences  or  sweet  promises.  this  was  all  business.

“ use to see to these creatures daily, back when — well years ago. takes an equal amount of brain and brawn but most people tend to have more of one than the other i will admit. ” arm  began  with  a  dismissive  wave  and  ended  with  a  tugging  motion  as  the  large  hunting  knife  he’d  borrowed  to  carve  and  disinfect  the  horse’s  leg  was  freed  from  a  tree’s  neck. “ i know what i’m doing, if i hadn’t, would’ve continued to town and pretended like i hadn’t seen anything. ” the  pointed  edge  he’d  swayed  her  way  was  replaced  with  the  smooth  handle  as  they  urged  it  toward  her.  she  hadn’t  recoiled  from  it  and  mister  mccree  noticed  from  under  the  shade  of  his  brim  how  much  slimmer  her  hand  was  when  compared  to  its  girth  but  despite  this  the  knife  looked  like  it  belonged  anyways.