STARRING: Jensen Ackles x Abigail Jameson (original charcter)
SETTING: 1875. Willow Creek, TX.
WARNINGS: Mild violence and comments about implied r@pe.
Chapter 1
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
Chapter 2
Abigail was absolutely certain at some points she was going to fall off the back of the horse. Part of her prayed for it.
She would rather risk life and limb than be stuck one more minute with the loathsome, foul-smelling beast that had forced her along on this trip. By the way they kept calling her Miss Abby, she could only imagine they had been guests at the saloon. She was called a great many things - Abigail, Miss Abigail, Gail - Miss Abby was a saloon exclusive. The blindfold had been tied tightly over her eyes, and she now had a headache. The bandanna they had gagged her with tasted of sweat and dirt.
The horse she was on slowed from a gallop to a trot then a meandering pace. “Let’s give them a break, let ‘em get a drink,” said the voice directly in front of her. Abigail was dragged down from the horse then its rider departed, brushing against her in the process.
“Don’t you dare fuckin’ scream.” The bandanna was pulled down from her mouth and a canvas circle was pressed to her lips. She greedily drank down the water, happy to quench her thirst and happy to wash that taste from her mouth. It was yanked away from her, making her gasp, water running down her chin.
“What do you want with me?” Abigail finally asked, drawing in ragged breaths from her gulping down the water.
She felt a hand at her face that grabbed the bandanna and yanked it off her head, hairs came with it, tangled up in the knot. It stung, making her wince. As soon as the sunlight flooded her vision, she threw her still bound hands up to shield her eyes. A few seconds later, she was able to see one of her captors.
“I know you…”
He smirked in response, thick mustache hitching up with his lips. “Do you now, you stuck up bitch? Offered you five dollars for what the rest of them whores were only chargin’ a dollar for. Wasn't good enough for ya.”
Abigail didn't get the chance to offer a rebuttal; one of the other men, this one tall and skinny, sneered at her, teeth stained from chaw. “Reckon she gave it up to the sheriff though. Free too, I bet.”
“I'm not a dove,” Abigail argued, referring to the entertainers in her brother's employ. “You could have offered me a hundred, and I still would have said no.” Even now, in the presence of five men, her hands tied together, she never lost her backbone. “I sing and play piano and occasionally dance. You had your choice of five different beautiful girls!”
She didn't dignify their comments about Jensen with any sort of acknowledgement.
“We liked you, didn't we, boys?” the mustached man said this with that same smirk as before, the other men laughing along with the remark.
“Your mamas should have taught you that you don't always get what you want!”
“We take what we want!” a third man retorted, almost angrily, like the very idea offended him. It sent a shiver down Abigail's spine. She immediately hated the implication of that declaration.
Abigail looked around at her kidnappers. She recognized each and every one of them from being in the Dusty Rose the night before. The one with the mustache had kept propositioning her, upping his price every time he did, until she threatened to tell the sheriff who had been sitting at the end of the bar. Now she was staring down what could be violation and her own death.
“Take me back to Willow Creek, and I won’t tell the sheriff who you are. I’ll keep him from hunting you down. The last thing you want is Jensen Ackles on your tail.” Gail was doing her best to reason with the outlaws. They all laughed at her, which only made her angry. “Point me back in the direction then, I’ll walk! Just let me go!”
The tall skinny man leered at her. “Not until we get what we want. What you denied us last night.”
She did the only thing she knew to do: find the hoofprints and run back in that direction. All of the men had dismounted, the horses drinking in the nearby creek. She ran as fast as she could, as hard as she could over patchy grass and arid soil.. She could hear footsteps behind her, just as she had back at the river, catching up to her fast. Then she was rolling across the ground - her pursuer had knocked her down, shoving her from behind, and sending her to the earth. A scream had escaped when she felt the knock from behind.
She tried to crawl away, digging her elbows into the dirt, but she was rolled on her back, and the tall skinny bandit climbed on top of her, straddling her. He slapped her once, then again, causing her vision to blur briefly. She didn’t get him the satisfaction of moaning out in pain though.
“Stupid bitch, where’d you think you were going? D’ya think we were going to let you just run off and not give chase? Run back to your precious sheriff?” He was taunting her now, and Gail now had the spine to glare at him. “Be mad all you want, darlin’. Don’t make no nevermind to me.”
The outlaw stood up then dragged Gail up by her arm. The rope around her wrists burned, her skin no doubt red and irritated underneath. She purposely dragged her feet, although Skinny yanked forward anyway. When they reached the grassy area near the creek, he shoved her down again, pointing at her.
“Don’t fucking move or else I’ll put one in the back of your skull, pussy or no pussy.”
Gail never stopped her angry staring all the while. How dare he speak to her that way. Unfortunately she believed him when he said he’d shoot her. She was certain he was the one who had chased her that morning at daybreak, so this was twice now he had run after her. This was twice she hadn’t been fast enough to get away. Again, she thought of Jensen and his begging her to stay, saying he’d take her home himself, how stupid she had been to reject his offer. She could have sat in front of him on Buck’s saddle and rode with her back to his chest, safe in his arms. She missed his arms around her, missed the warmth and the safety of his embrace.
“Please, Jensen,” she whispered, looking off in the direction she felt certain that they had come, watching for Buck and his rider on the horizon.
ꨄ︎
Jensen had been riding for hours, following the tracks of a group of horses. He came to a grassy area along a creek bank and hopped off Buck to lead him to the water. While the gelding was wetting his whistle, Jensen looked around for any sign the crew had stopped here or at least been by it. The set of tracks had stopped here, seemed to be five horses by his count, and they had tromped around in a circle before walking towards the water.
The outlaws didn’t seem to be too worried about covering their tracks, if it were them. Big mistake.
It wasn’t much of a wooded area. A small grove of trees along a creekbed, the grass thick. Was he even following the right tracks? That worry ate at him, made his chest ache. Not finding her was a terrifying thought. He weaved through the trees, looking for any sign that Gail had been here. The grass was stamped down in places for somebody in heavy boots, but that could have been anybody.
Then he saw it.
On a flat stone lay a wildflower in the shape of a cursive J.
God, how many of those had Gail made over the years? She always twisted it so the bloom was in the center where the two loops met up.
“She’s been here.” He mumbled to himself then said louder, almost as if he was talking to Buck. “She’s been here!” The horse nickered in response. His faith restored, he ran back to where the horse was and grabbed his canteen from his saddlebag.. A quick refill on the water, and he swung back up onto the horse’s back. The wildflower J was tucked into his pocket for safe keeping
Jensen led Buck around the wooded area, looking for the group of hoofprints, to know which way to go next. The moment he found the host of tracks leading off, he was on the trail again. Even Buck seemed renewed in his energy. These seemed to be headed southwest. Fuck, were they headed for the border?
