Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear. -Sarah McLaughlin-
Chapter 29
The ostentatious train station was an odd fit for the burgeoning Nebraska town. It seemed to be a country boy who was trying on his older cousin’s big city shoes. Still, Buffy supposed it should try to make a grand impression. It was the only jumping off spot, train-wise, for all western destinations and needed to let the world know how important it was.
She pressed her back against the wall, trying to avoid the milling throngs as William busied himself talking to porters, arranging their seats and luggage. He was his smiling, polite Williamesque self as a porter motioned for him to follow and, with a quick nod to Buffy, he did so.
The churning sea of humanity quickly swallowed him from her sight.
Though the day had wrung her out like a washcloth, it wasn’t the scramble for trains and the hectic trip from Chicago to Omaha that had done her in. It was, rather, the unrelenting pressure of holding in her early morning surprise. The thought of her secret buzzed in her mind like an electric wire, accompanying the click-clack of the rails beneath her feet. Slayer, again. Slayer, again.
The amount of baggage slayerness brought, not just to her life, but to William’s was something too overwhelming to contemplate right now. If she could only get a few moments alone, to think, to figure out what to do, to get the litany of Slayer, again, to pipe down for one minute, maybe then she could move ahead. But getting alone time didn’t seem to be in her cards.
She glared up at the clock perched at the base of the dome in the center of the station. One in the morning. It seemed a very bizarre time to begin a trip, but William assured her, his beloved guide book in hand, that it was the scheduled time for trains departing from the Eastern Terminus.
All she wanted to do was tuck into her bed and let blessed darkness claim her. With any luck, they’d board soon. Lately it seemed she’d been luck’s bitch, however, so she wasn’t counting on Omaha being a particularly easy time.
Buffy was so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed William approaching until he was nearly standing in front of her. He was wearing a broad smile, despite the weariness in the lines of his eyes, and leading two well dressed women.
“Darling! I’ve a surprise for you,” William stood to one side to allow the ladies behind him a view of Buffy. “Our porter, Samuel-not-George, heard my accent and suggested that we might enjoy traveling with fellow countrymen.”
At that, the ladies behind him laughed good-naturedly and the elder one repeated “Countrymen” as though it was an inside joke. Buffy gave William a puzzled look.
“May I present Mrs. Fiona Dunn and Miss Mary Dunn, mother and daughter from Ireland who are on their way to meet up with Mr. Dunn in San Francisco. Ladies, I’d like to introduce my wife, Elizabeth Pratt.”
The Dunns promptly curtsied, and Buffy bent her knees in her best attempt at doing the same.
“After just a few moments of speaking with these ladies, I knew that joining our fortunes would be most agreeable for all parties.” William looked at Buffy hopefully and she found a smile for him in return.
“Nice to meet you,” Buffy said, because she had to say something.
The younger woman had coppery red hair and a wide, honest smile. She stepped forward and looked at Buffy appraisingly. “I’m looking forward to it. I’d given up hope of finding anyone close to my age, let alone another female. I think traveling companions can make or break a journey, don’t you?”
“Yes, absolutely.” As wiped out as Buffy felt, she had to admit she liked the girl’s forthrightness and thought she and her mother would be a vast improvement over the walrus brothers. It was thoughtful of William to have considered such a thing.
“We’re so fortunate to have met you, Mr. Pratt. It’ll be lovely to have a gentleman looking out for us,” the elder Dunn woman said. She seemed kindly and had a soft beauty that reminded Buffy of her own mother.
“I am pleased to help, ma’am,” William returned, politely.
Their conversation was abruptly cut off by two words that Buffy had been longing to hear for hours. The distinctive sing-song call of Allllllll Aboooaaaarrrddd!
After much jostling and herding, they arrived at their assigned seats in the center of the train, though their seats were next to the door at the front of the car. Buffy was grateful to see that their beds were already made up. She shucked her shoes off and climbed onto the bed while William tucked their day bag in the storage space beneath their seats. The Dunns seemed eager for sleep as well and wasted little time climbing to their upper bunk and settling in for the night.
She scooted next to the window to make room for William. He sat down on the bed next to her and reached over to squeeze her hand.
“Lovely train, isn’t it? The guide book said that it should be even finer than the train to Chicago, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
Was it nicer? In her fog she hadn’t even noticed. “It’s terrific, William, really. And arranging seatmates was a great idea, too.”
“I’m going to just dash out to the water closet.”
“Okay.” She nodded at him.
His brows knit together. “Are you quite sure you’re all right, dear?”
His expression was so raw and honest, she felt something fierce claw at the edges of her heart and tears began to build behind her eyes. She nodded vigorously and turned to look out the window for a moment, big coward that she was.
“I don’t know what it would be like to recover one’s memories so suddenly as you have, but I can imagine it would be quite a shock. Still, love, you can talk to me about it. About anything.” He leaned over and kissed the back of her head tenderly. “You’re tired, love.
Should there be a queue, I may be some time. Please don’t wait up.”
“Okay.” She knew that soon she was going to have to start talking to him in real sentences, with real words about real things. Slayer things. But not tonight.
She felt him slip out of their bed and heard a mumbled exchange with the Dunn women before he pulled the curtain closed.
Alone at last. Buffy tucked down under the covers and faced the train wall. Her hand trailed up to her necklace, as it had done throughout the day, to trace the delicate silver stake that dangled just beneath her throat. She recalled the day he’d given it to her, the earnest look behind his blue eyes as he tried so desperately to show her that he loved her — the whole Buffy package,
complete with her slayer past.
But he couldn’t have known any more than she that it was no longer behind her. Now that she’d been called again, all that being the slayer entailed was about to wrap around both their lives.
The steam whistle cried out and the train lurched forward abruptly. She held onto the wall to steady herself. Just when she’d gotten used to this life, this husband, everything turned on its side again. Leaving on their final stage of the long journey should have been filled with joy but left her with only trepidation.
What waited for her in California? What waited for them both? Another Hellmouth? More battles?
And did she really have to answer the calling?
This time, couldn’t she just say ‘no’? Just because they asked this of her, yet again, where was it written in stone that she had to say yes?
The curtains moved aside, and William silently rejoined her in bed. Though she still faced the wall, she screwed her eyes shut tightly and willed her breathing to slow, feigning sleep.
He tucked in behind her, moving slowly so that he wouldn’t disturb her, carefully draping his arm about her waist.
She could feel his breath, warm and comforting on her neck, and hear his voice, just above a whisper. “Sleep well. Missed you so much, my Elizabeth.”
Biting her lip, she swallowed the lump of pain that had suddenly formed in her throat. She forced herself to keep breathing steadily, as a dreamer might, until she relaxed in his arms and sleep finally claimed her.
~*~
They were roused by Samuel just before seven in the morning and by eight had been herded out the door to breakfast at a small café in the middle of a desolate patch of Nebraska. William informed her that unlike the previous train, they wouldn’t have the luxury of a dining car for the duration of the trip. They were to take their meals rather hurriedly in thirty minute breaks at designated dining stops.
Since neither she nor William felt particularly hungry, they purchased some fruit and William indulged in a cup of tea. When they reboarded the train, their beds had been made up into the day position and the Dunn women were already seated and looked eager for company.
“Welcome back! Did you enjoy breakfast, then?” Mrs. Dunn asked.
William nodded. “It was quite rushed, but then, I suppose that’s the nature of these stops.”
“Indeed.” The woman fussed with a handkerchief awkwardly, then tilted her head towards Buffy. “Forgive my inquisitive nature, but I don’t know when I’ve seen a couple that had such a look of honeymooners. Have you two recently wed? I simply must know.”
Mary let out a dramatic sigh at her mother’s intrusion. “Oh, Mum. You mustn’t do any such thing.” She looked to Buffy and mouthed the words “I’m sorry!”
Buffy smiled at the pair. “Yes, William and I wed just before we boarded a ship for America.”
“How romantic! Was your wedding very grand?”
“Quite small, actually,” Buffy said. William reached over to squeeze her hand, his eyes sparkling with the knowledge that now she too could remember their wedding.
“It was perfect. It was exactly what we wanted,” William confirmed.
“And an American bride and English groom. I must ask, however did you meet? Forgive my …”
“Rather than constantly asking for forgiveness, Mother, you could simply stop asking invasive questions.” The elder woman huffed in indignation and Mary responded with laughter. “Well, it is an option, Mum.”
William looked extremely distressed at this latest question, and Buffy knew that he was a miserable liar, so she handled the woman’s query, coming surprisingly close to the truth. “William saved me from a ruffian.”
Mrs. Dunn leaned forward in her seat, her mouth a round oh of horror and excitement. “Do tell!”
“Or don’t,” Mary suggested with a grin. “It’s the only certain way to stop her constant prying. Trust me.”
“After I was accosted by a street thug, William assisted me and brought me into his home.”
“And you fell in love while on the mend? Oh, it’s exactly like Jane and Bingley in Pride and Prejudice,” Mrs. Dunn twittered.
Buffy looked over to see William looking, if possible, even more awkward, a blush stealing up to color his sharp cheekbones. More questions about their courtship were certain to follow. Since the Lord of the Manor marrying the maid would be sure to scandalize even the very affable Dunn ladies, Buffy tried desperately to think of something, anything, to steer the conversation toward a more socially acceptable course.
“And now we’re on our way to California,” Buffy said. It wasn’t wordy or smooth, but it did change the direction of the conversation.
Mary Dunn gave Buffy a sly grin. “You’re clever. I like you.”
“We’re partners in a winery in the Napa Valley.” William grinned broadly and little smile crinkles appeared beside his eyes. “It’s a wonderful location and our home is quite close to the ocean. We’re most enthused about the endeavor.” He squeezed Buffy’s hand so hard that she was fairly sure she’d be wincing if not for slayer strength.
Mrs. Dunn continued to pepper William with questions about the winery and his knowledge of California in general, so Buffy let herself slip away from the conversation. She joined Mary in looking out the train window to watch Nebraska unfold in all its monotonous glory. It was almost frightening the way the land stretched out until the curve of the earth finally stopped it. The tall grasses moved and swayed in the breeze in a primal dance. It was so different than anything she’d ever seen and she found she felt very small, infinitesimally insignificant, in the face of all that nothingness.
~*~
They ate their evening meal at another nondescript Nebraska eating station after a long day of dust, heat and ‘forgive me for asking but’ kinds of questions from Mrs. Dunn. Since the two most popular items in the menu were antelope steak and buffalo roast, Buffy opted for the third thing that looked like chicken, but turned out to be sage hen.
After their somewhat chewy meal, they reentered the car to find that Samuel had already made up their beds. Buffy went to the ladies room, accompanied by Mary who had proven to be the perfect seatmate — intelligent and not nearly as nosy as her mother.
The primary benefit of having the Dunns as companions was that Buffy didn’t have any alone time with William. Conversation remained light, relatively impersonal, and William couldn’t question her too closely or talk to her in depth about anything.
While Buffy readied for bed, she took her time, dragging out the process because she so dreaded being alone with him. All day long he’d still seemed to glow from the buzz of her recovering her memories, like a starving man who had at last been treated to filet mignon - or antelope steak, as the case may be. Whenever she glanced in his direction, he met her with a wide grin. If she waited too long between glances, she’d feel his fingertips brush her arm or tangle in her hair ‘accidentally.’ He would give her a questioning look, simple and basic, just to confirm that she was really there, all of her, and she couldn’t help but smile reassuringly in response. How could she do anything else in the face of his relentless optimism?
After braiding her hair for bed, she and Mary returned to their seats. William and Mrs. Dunn were already in bed, so Mary wished Buffy a good night and climbed up to her bunk, closing the curtains around their beds after her.
William was tucked next to the window and greeted her with a wide smile. “Oh good! You’re back!” Even for the newly enthusiastic William, his greeting was a little exuberant.
“What’s up?”
“Come and see!” He moved over to give her access to
the window and Buffy crawled over to look out.
In the distance she could see the formerly monotone line of sandy-colored grasslands had given way to bright reds, yellows and oranges. A line of fire that must have been six or seven feet high flickered and wavered in the distance.
“It’s a prairie fire. They’re often simply caused by lighting, or occasionally, humans.”
“Did you read about them in your guide book, William?” If he only weren’t so endearing, it would be so much easier on her.
He nodded and fidgeted with his hair, looking embarrassed. “Well, yes. I suppose I have an over-fondness for that book. They were just described so wonderfully and I thought the chances of our seeing one would be slim.”
Buffy watched the wall of dancing flames, marching forward, devouring all before it. “No, it’s … striking. Kind of terrible and beautiful at the same time. If that makes sense.”
“Perfect sense, love.” His arm came around her waist and he tugged her close. She leaned back against his warm chest, feeling safe — if only for that moment. They remained that way for a long time, just silently watching the fire as the train creaked and chugged through the lonely Nebraska night.
His hand smoothed her hair, tentative and tender.
Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “Are you really all right, darling?”
Her breath caught in her throat and since she didn’t quite trust herself to speak, she nodded very vigorously.
His voice continued to rumble in her ear. “It’s just that, in all the bustle of the day, we haven’t had a moment alone to talk of all these … changes.”
“I’m fine, William, really.” She turned to face him and gave him the approximation of a smile.
“Forgive me, Buffy. I don’t know why I’m plagued by these strange doubts. I’m being a foolish, insecure husband.” He ran his fingers through his hair and kept a steady gaze upon her. “It’s silly of me to worry about losing you just when I’ve found you again.”
“No, it’s fine, William, and we do need to talk. It’s just kinda hard in such closer quarters.” She glanced at the upper bunk to show she was referring to the Dunns, when she saw it. Tied to the bottom of the upper bunk with twine, the image flickering with the dying prairie fire. Their wedding photo.
It all came back to her in an instant — the first day of their voyage. They’d only gotten married the day before and had boarded the ship with such grand plans. She’d borrowed the string from George and tied their wedding photo above their bed. William had looked at her with boundless hope for future together. If only they’d known what was ahead.
“Oh, William.” The tears she’d been holding behind the dam all day, poured forth in a torrent.
“Oh, love. Oh, no.” William wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head beneath his chin. “It was meant to be a happy surprise.”
But Buffy couldn’t stop the tears. She might have been weeping for George, a life cut short so cruelly. She might have been weeping for her own lost chance at having the life of a normal girl. But really, ultimately, she knew she was really weeping for William. After his lifetime of being alone, he finally had a love and dreams of building a life, of having children. How could she take his happiness from him?
His fingers soothed her hair and he murmured frantically in her ear. “So sorry, love. I got it wrong. Please, Buffy.”
She forced her weeping back under control, grateful that the squeaking car would have muffled her cries. William pulled back and looked at her with raised brows.
“Darling?”
“I’m okay, William,” she whispered. “It’s just … a lot, you
know?”
“Certainly, love.”
She nodded and lay back in bed, while William tugged the covers around them. Though she’d scooted over toward the window and had her back to him, William was having none of it, and gathered her in his arms.
“I love you, Buffy. I always will. We’ll just give this some time and all will be fine. You’ll see.”
Tomorrow. She’d tell him the truth about her slayerness tomorrow, no matter what. She just wanted him to have one more night of his beautiful delusion. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
~*~
The next day dawned, dusty and hot almost as soon as the sun rose. They had a late breakfast in Denver, which was a little more elegant than their previous eating stations. As usual, the call to board the train came before they were halfway finished eating and they had to gobble the remainder of their meals.
“Look at me, already taking on American manners,”
William teased through a mouthful of eggs.
Buffy kicked him gently in the shins as she stuffed the better part of a muffin in her mouth and they dashed out the door.
Once they were back on the train, it swung north into Wyoming. Shortly before Denver, the relentless flatness had given way to occasional hills and mountains which became even more pronounced in Wyoming. The engine began to strain on the steeper grades and Buffy could see snow on some of the taller peaks.
Just outside of Laramie the train passed through a prairie dog town, which charmed everyone on board. The creatures had inquisitive faces with round, solemn eyes and reminded Buffy of land otters. Passengers threw bits of bread and dried fruit to them. The prairie dogs were skittish, however, and barked warnings to one another before disappearing down one of their dozens of holes only to pop up again a few yards away. Mary was enthralled by their antics and spent the next few hours sketching them.
It really was, Buffy had to admit, a very pleasant way to spend the day. Whenever the nagging voice rose in her subconscious, reminding her that she absolutely had to tell William the truth about her being the slayer again, she would look into his bright blue eyes, his hopeful expression, and find her willpower had evaporated.
They were scheduled to have their evening meal in the promisingly named Rock Springs, Wyoming, but as they approached the town, Buffy began to get a strange sense about the place. It might have been the way the porters were moving about, very busily and not making eye contact with the passengers. Or it could have been the strange, black smoke she could see rising up just ahead of them. She suspected that it was something far worse than either of those indicators.
It was her slayer sense. That strange prickling on the back of her neck that she’d get every time some bad mojo was about to go down.
And she wasn’t the only one. William sensed the difference in her immediately. The very moment that she picked up on the strange vibe emanating from Rock Springs William jerked his head from his guide book and looked at her.
“What’s wrong?” His voice wasn’t soft, and he didn’t sound like an adoring husband. He sounded panicked. When she didn’t answer, he asked again. “What is it, Buffy? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know exactly. There’s something wrong in the town. Something big.”
He shook his head, clearly not understanding, as the train shuddered to a halt at the Rock Springs Station.
Their porter, Samuel, stood at the front of the car, purposefully blocking the exit. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience. There appears to be some kind of trouble in town and we ask for your patience. Our conductor is going to discuss the matter with the station master and then we will be able to let you off to dine. It will just be a few moments, I assure you.”
As they waited, the light tingling sensation on the back of Buffy’s neck grew until it felt as though tarantulas were marching between her shoulder blades.
Though the high fence around the station blocked most of her view, it didn’t block the thick smoke settling over the town or the sounds. She could make out a distinctive, eerie noise coming from some distance away. It took her a moment to place it, but when it came to her, it was with a discomfort that made the marching spiders on her back begin to dance.
It was the sound of a mob. There was no mistaking that distinctive mix of hate and fear and mindless violence. Though she’d only experienced a mob a few times, she would never be able to forget its voice.
The conductor stepped into the car looking quite worried. He spoke a few hurried words to Samuel before darting out to the next car on the train. “Unfortunately,” Samuel announced, “we will not be stopping at our usual dining spot tonight. There are difficulties in town that require us to make arrangements in Green River, which is about thirty minutes away. We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”
The moment the porter stopped talking, the sound of the crowd once again rose to fill the void. It seemed closer now, louder and angrier. She noticed several of the passengers were working frantically to close their windows and after a pointed look at William, Mrs. Dunn stood up to do the same. Their window appeared to be stuck, however and the woman gave up after a few moments of struggling.
Just behind the dull roar of angry voices, a new abrupt sound rose, catching everyone’s attention in an instant. It was a single human voice, a scream, which rose up and sliced through the wall of sound before it was suddenly silenced.
Buffy shot out of her seat and quickly reached under their seat for the day bag. William looked at her with a blank expression on his face.
“I need to go William, now. I’m sorry.”
“What?” He blinked, scrambling to comprehend. The two
Dunn women looked at her with shocked expressions.
“I can’t explain more than that. I’ll catch up with you. I can meet you where we switch trains. Ogden, right?”
Buffy attempted to nudge her way past Samuel, who stood firm. The train whistle gave a short hoot, indicating it was about to leave the station.
“No.” William leapt to his feet.
“No?!”
“Buffy, Elizabeth, please. You can’t do this.”
“I have to.”
“Then,” he stepped toward her, “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.” The train lurched forward and Buffy had to steady herself with one hand. “You can’t. It’s just for me, William. I’ll explain later.”
“Ma’am?” Samuel broke in, politely, but firmly, his arm barring access to the door. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not to let anyone off the train just now.”
“It’s okay, Samuel. You’re not letting me.” Buffy moved the porter’s hand aside and slipped past him. She unlatched the door and turned to face William. “I’ll see you in Ogden. I promise. And … I’m sorry, William.”
She had no more time to spend. Though the train was still moving slowly, it was picking up speed rapidly and the end of the platform was only feet away.
With a deep breath, Buffy flung herself out of the door and tumbled onto the wooden platform gracelessly, skinning the hell out of her knees in the process.
She began to stand and had just gotten to her knees when a projectile, a man, flew from the train. He landed beside her and rolled towards her until he smashed into her legs, knocking her back on her ass.
William.
He pulled himself up as quickly as he was able and gasped, “I told you I was coming with you!”
His hand shot down to help her up and she took it, rising to her feet to face him. His expression was stony and there was no mistaking the tone of his voice. “Buffy.” William, her sweet, loving husband, was angrier than she’d ever heard him. “All our things are currently on a train headed for Utah. We’re now luggageless in Rock Springs in the midst of what appears to be a riot. And what is worse, you just tried to leave me. Leap off a train into this madness without me, without any explanation whatsoever. I would very much like to know just what the bloody hell is going on?”
Downtown Rock Springs in the late nineteenth century
-------------------------
A very apologetic Author's note:
After a great deal of whining because he wasn't in this chapter, I've agreed to let Billy the Kid do the end notes (against my better judgement).
Hello folks:
In my book, a fellow is only as good as his reputation, and mine has been rode like a swayback mule. I aim to set the record straight about two men in particular. The first one is Pat Garrett — the dirty coward who shot me while I was crossin’ a friend’s yard in my bare feet! The yella bastard (pardon my language) wrote all about it, changin’ all the details to make himself a hero and myself a cold-blooded killer. Called it The Authentic Life of Billy, the Kid, The Noted Desperado of the Southwest. I ask you, what kind of fool gives a book a title with two dozen words when five or six will do? A Pat Garrett kind of fool. He claims a great many falsehoods in his story, and I will not burden you with the details except to say that later historians could see through his tall tales. I assure you, the number of men I killed personally (outside of a shootout situation where no one could tell who was shooting who), well that number was less than five. And two of those fellows were in self-defense. You have my word as a gentleman.
The other person I want to bring to your mind is Emilio Estevez, or as I call him, Charlie Sheen’s crazy brother. In Young Guns I & 2, he portrayed me as a fool — a giggling killer with a hair trigger. Nothing could be further from the truth. I was quite calm, good to my friends. I carried on a long correspondence with no less than the Governor of New Mexico and met with the man, for Christ’s sake (again, excuse the language). I was also a very good dancer and had quite a string of sweethearts in my time. I don’t think the manic idiot that Emilio played matches remotely to the facts.
This is plenty long, and since Puddin’ is mutterin’ that she ought not to have let me out of ‘my box,’ I reckon I better let her get to postin’ this chapter. See you in Chapter 31. 32 at the latest.
~Billy~
p.s. When Pat Garrett said I was one of the best shots he ever saw — he wasn’t lyin’ about that part.