Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The heat was stifling in the little building Tahcawin was currently hiding in. The slums of southern Blackwater smelled something foul, like rotten fish and death. But usually, when the sun wasn’t at it’s highest point, it was bearable. Right now, at high noon, it was most certainly not.

The day had started like any other, going out to find some money to feed Jenny and herself. Both of them orphans, both of them thieves, they’d stuck together for years.

She had nicked a pocket watch of some older gentleman, harmless by the looks of him. But somehow he had felt her hands on him, and she had had to scramble to get away. She’d lost him somewhere around the butchers shop, but decided to wait out in the hidey-hole she and Jenny had scoped out some weeks back.

 She had been in the little room for over an hour, sitting on the bedrolls they had brought over from Strawberry. Jenny should have been here already, said she was gonna hit a mark she had been scoping out for a week. Jenny had called him their golden opportunity, a man with a big mouth and a plethora of golden rings on his fingers. Tahcawin had not felt the same. Sure, the man seemed rich enough, with a red velvet vest and slicked back dark curls. A well kept man, and those gold rings Jenny spoke so fondly of were continuously on display. However, something about the man had seemed not right. He seemed too aware of his surroundings, almost as if he was inviting someone to try and rob him. Jenny had laughed at her for it, citing her lack of experience with other people as the cause of her hesitation.

And yet, Jenny was not back yet.

Tahcawin rose to her feet, her left knee cracking from sitting in a wrong position for a long time. She grabbed her hat and checked her knife. Neither of the girls had guns, to loud for their line of work.

She climbed out the back window of the room, letting her body drop to the small clearing behind the place. One of the few spots in Southern Blackwater where one could actually spot some flowers instead of dirt. She would never tell Jenny, but that had been part of why she had been so insistant on this room.

Jenny had told her the mark frequented the saloon on Main Avenue, so she decided that would be the first spot to look. She pulled her hat down as to cover most of her face. Most people around these parts weren’t particularly fond of natives, and even less so of half-bloods. So she kept her head down and her jacket on, passing as just another street urchin.

Barely anyone ever noticed street urchins.

When she finally entered the saloon, keeping to the sides and blending in as much as possible, she did not happen upon the scene she expected. Instead, she found Jenny talking animatedly to her mark, all of his rings still on his fingers.

She moved closer, trying to figure out what they were talking about.

“- I’d love to Mr. Van der Linde!”

She heard Jenny say as she shook the mans hand. She made disgruntled noise at that, which caused Jenny to look up and meet her eyes.

“This is the associate I was telling you about.”

With a big grin on her pretty face, she motioned for Tahcawin to come closer. With soft steps, the more hesitant of the two girls approached their table. She moved through the crowd, taking a seat on Jenny’s left and looking at this Mr. Van der Linde. He seemed more dangerous up close, even if he had managed to entice Jenny. That girl was to trusting for her own good.

“Miss Tahcawin I presume.”

His voice was deep and loud. It spoke of a certain type of grandeur and a man who was used to getting his way. She nodded, keeping her mouth firmly shut. She was uneasy. It had been her and Jenny for years and they managed fine, she did not need another to look out for.

“As I just told Miss Kirk after her failed attempt at a robbery, you and her are both more than welcome to join my family.”

Ah, there it was. Family - the one thing Jenny wanted to get back more than anything. Nevermind financial security or even the promise of a regular meal, it was the closeness of a family Jenny really missed. A closeness Tahcawin did not truly understand. Sure, she had loved her mother more than anything, and they had looked out for each-other. But it was similar to the situation she now found herself in with Jenny.

“And Jenny wants to join.”

Her voice was quiet, but with a harsh edge. No flowery language or feminine pitch. She had never had need of that, and a such, never learned it.

“Yes.”

She looked at the girl to her right. They were so similar and yet so different. Jenny was all soft curves and excitement, while Tahcawin was straight and thin and reserved. Jenny could charm a man out of his entire bank account, while Tahcawin would rob a man by pretending to not exist. And yet, Jenny was the most important thing in her life. Her best, and only friend.

Jenny’s brown eyes glimmered with excitement, with promise. She had never wanted anything quite this bad. And Tahcawin knew she would go with the other girl. If only to protect her. If only because she had no one else.

She nodded to Mr. Van der Linde. And he smiled. Almost predatory his smile was. But when she looked at Jenny she realised he had completely won her over. The petty thief from Strawberry and the half-blood Indian would become full on outlaws. Two young girls won over by a charismatic criminal.

Dutch extended his hand, and Tahcawin shook it. A deal was made. A pact was formed.

“Let’s get you two girls to camp then. Anything you need to pick up?”

“Just our bedrolls, sir.”

Jenny did the talking. She usually did, while Tahcawin would scan their surroundings. It was a coping mechanism, keeping herself at a distance of others to protect herself. Her mother had told her the stories of what white men would do to native women. What her father had done to her. And so she kept quiet, kept her head down and hoped men would ignore her. Jenny did not have this fear. And so Jenny talked.

On their way to their little room Jenny and Dutch made conversation while Tahcawin walked a little behind them. Still uncomfortable around the experienced outlaw.

They picked up their bedrolls and the few pictures Jenny had left of her family. Tahcawin said a silent goodbye to the little flower patch behind their hideout. She didn’t know why, but she would miss this place. It had become almost a home to her.

The way to camp took a long time, mainly because neither her nor Jenny had a horse. They had never needed one, keeping their thieving inside the city bounds, and making sure they knew the layout of the place well enough to make a quick getaway on foot.

Dutch van der Linde had a horse however. A beautiful little stallion he called the Count. Tahcawin thought it was a stupid name for a horse, Jenny thought it mighty funny. Tahcawin wondered if it would be expected of her and Jenny to get a horse now. She used to own one, back when her mother was still with her. But she knew Jenny hadn’t ever learned how to ride, street urchin she was.

They could hear the camp before they saw it, something that annoyed Dutch to no extend. Muttering under his breath that they were outlaws and wanted men, and should do everything in their power to keep the law away. Jenny thought it a mighty fine thing, a lively family after the years alone with the sullen disposition of her friend. Tahcawin didn’t know how to feel. She had never had a family, never had such lively people around her.

Dutch led them into the camp, many new faces looking upon the girls. They were like night and day. Jenny the light-skinned, small girl. Full of smiles and energy. She drew people in, and was engaging them in conversation before Dutch had even finished their introductions.

And then there was Tahcawin. Tanned and tall, lean and stand-offish. She felt awkward standing there, not the type to go out and engage a stranger in conversation. So she was more than happy when someone came forward.

A redhead with the most stupid bowler head she had ever seen had jumped up. Squaring his shoulders and making a show of it. None of the rest of them seemed fazed by him.

He stopped right in front of her - her not Jenny- with a big smile on his face.

“‘Ello there, name’s Sean MacGuire.”

Chapter Text

Jenny was smitten with Davey Callender, there was no way around it. When she and Tahcawin lay next to each-other in their little lean to, there was nothing else Jenny could talk about. She would go on about the way his blonde hair was so soft for a man, about how his beard would scratch her when they kissed. About how amazing that beard felt when engaged in another type of kissing. Sometimes the younger girl did not realise when she went into to much detail.

Tahcawin was happy for her, she really was. But while Jenny went on and on about the many subtle hints of the taste she got when kissing Davey, the main note being whiskey .Tahcawin was wondering about the taste of a very different man.

Sean MacGuire was not the man she had seen herself falling for. He was loud and brash and overconfident. And yet, he made her laugh. He’d won her over from the first day she had stepped into camp - after their first meeting that is, when he first come to her - and he had greeted her with an Oi, you look like one we won’t want to get mad, don’t ya tíogar? He had made her feel welcome at once, and upon learning of her Irish heritage, he had declared loudly that them Irish should stick together. He made her feel like one of them, not as an half-breed with no place in this world.

But she was an awkward girl with no knowledge of romance, and definitely not the type a guy like Sean MacGuire would go for. So instead of dealing with said feelings, she would lock up around him, feeling even more awkward than she usually did. Tonight was no different. 

The gang was sitting around the campfire, enjoying a plate of Pearsons special stew and listening to Javier’s songs. All for Karen’s 25^th birthday. Tahcawin was sitting next to Jenny, who was paying her no attention, instead not-so-subtly flirting with Davey Callander. Mac was sitting next to Davey, the less outspoken of the two, he was busy polishing his gun instead of involving himself in the festivities.

And next to Mac was Sean, laughing and drinking with the birthday girl. It was at times like these, and only times like these, Tahcawin wished she was more like Karen. That she had voluptuous curves to entice men instead of the straight lines and muscles she had been gifted. She felt masculine when comparing herself with the blonde beauty. And it was all because she was jealous of the attention Karen got from Sean.

Tahcawin tried to enjoy her evening, and aside from seeing Sean with Karen, a wonderful evening it was. Javier’s songs always made for a good time, and she even allowed Mac to take her hands and swing her ‘round in a dance.

As the evening progressed, and everyone was getting more and more drunk, she found herself face to face with Sean. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and yet, she felt a light feeling in her lower belly. She had never been this close to him before.

“Ah, my tíogar, the fairest woman in this camp. Would ya do a poor sod like Sean MacGuire the honour of accompanying me to me bed?”

He slurred his words, and threw an arm around her to prove his point. She was mortified. It was the closest she had ever been to her object of affection, and he was blatantly spouting that he wanted her. He was also drunk of his arse.

“You’re drunk.”

“Aye, my fair tíogar, but I will still treat ya like the treasure ya are, that is a promise!”

She was conflicted. On the one hand, she would finally be able to touch him, to find out if the made the same noises he made in her dreams, if he tasted like anything but whiskey. But on the other hand, he was drunk. Extremely drunk. It would mean nothing to him and everything to her.

“Ask me again when you’re sober.”

She almost ran away, hurrying towards her bedroll. She would try and sleep, knowing she would be haunted by dreams of what if. But she would be alone with her thoughts, as she had seen Jenny go off with Davey Callander.

It did not take long for her to fall into a deep sleep, filled with images of a wide smile and red hair and things that could have been.

The next morning Tahcawin was up before the rest of camp. Jenny had returned to her spot next to Tahcawin sometime during the night, and Davey Callander was snoring loudly next to his brother. She got up slowly, careful not to wake Jenny. Let them all have their sleep, the woman thought.

Not much of a coffee drinker, she decided to skip breakfast and just go out to look for herbs. If Javier was their fisherman, Tahcawin had evolved into their herbalist. Like Jenny, she was not one for womanly pursuits, and after Bill ended up with some terrible burns, Dutch had been glad for her herbal expertise.

She moved towards Mato, the blanket Appaloosa she and Mac Callander had picked up after one of their stagecoach robberies. He was a feisty one, a true stallion, and it had been love at first sight. Horse and rider understood each-other, and the long gathering trips were a treat for both of them.

Her gathering trip was not as successful as usually. Her mind kept going over last night. Should she gave given in to Sean? He would not be her first, that honour had gone to Derek, the older lad that had taken her and Jenny under his wing when they were teenagers in Strawberry. He had offered them a good time and she had taken him up on it. Then there had been Elizabeth, the young prostitute who had offered to teach her real pleasure as a favour after Tahcawin had helped her escape from a jilted john.

None of them had meant anything to her.

She wanted it to mean something when she slept with Sean. She wanted it to mean as much to him as it would to her.

And she had accepted the fact that it would therefore likely never happen. 

When she returned to camp Javier was brushing Boaz. Like her, the singular Mexican in the vanderLinde gang liked his peace and quiet, and they usually got along just fine, both knowing what it was like to not fit in.

He nodded at her as he spotted her, and to her surprise, moved towards her.

“You and Karen got a problem?”

Tahcawin’s brow furrowed. She and Karen, a problem? They weren’t the best of friends but she liked the girls no-nonsense attitude and they got along fine.

“You haven’t have you, so why were you giving her that death-glare last night?”

Once again. Tahcawin was happy with her dark complexion, as it hid her blush. She could feel her ears burning. Had she really looked that angry? Had other people noticed? Maybe she could brush it of? 

“So Sean was the reason for that glare then?”

Of course she was not that lucky. Javier was surprisingly perceptive, given his usual fixation on his own presentation Her cheeks burned in shame.

“Never figured you falling for the likes of MacGuire.”

He laughed at her, honest to God, laughed at her.

“You better keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.”

She gave him one of her famous death-glares to prove her point. Though the effect was slightly lessened by her burning ears.

“Oo, I will tíogar, I will”

He butchered the nickname Sean had given her, mocking her. He could barely get the sentence out without laughing. Mato, noticing his owner’s annoyance, stomped his hooves. Tahcawin petted the stallion softly, leading him away from Javier who was still laughing, and set herself to the task of removing his tack.

It was during this task that Sean sought her out. Hovering around her while he watched her take care of her horse. She wondered what went on in his head. And when the wondering became unbearable, she turned around towards him, raising a dark brow as she looked at him.

“I remember needing to ask ya something tíogar, and I promise I am sober now!”

Heat pooled in her belly as she looked at the wide smile on his face. Did he remember? The tight feeling in her belly had returned tenfold, almost painful. Sean came closer, backing her into a tree that had before been to her right.

“I meant to ask ya if ya wanted to join me in me bedroll?”

He was so close now she could smell him, she only had to move forward a little bit and she would be kissing him. Her face was warm, and she could feel a slight tremble in her fingers. There was nothing left of the strong and taciturn girl she usually was.

“I won’t be a one night thing Sean”

It was barely more than a whisper, and the words were out before Tahcawin had properly realised what she had said. But Sean had heard it, and his smile grew even wider.

The boy wasted no time in plastering his lips to hers. It was a sloppy kiss, a thing wanted by both parties for far to long. Her arms went around him, pulling his head closer to hers. His snaked to her bum, pulling it into him as he grinded into her.

She could taste him now. The faint taste whiskey, some tobacco and something undeniably sweet. It was better than in her dreams. The taste of him, coupled with the evidence of his enjoyment pressed against her made it the best kiss she had ever enjoyed.

Neither knew how far they would have gone there on the edge of town if a loud cough hadn’t interrupted them. Javier was looking at them, throwing a shit-eating grin Tahcawin’s way.

“None of use need to see this.”

His tone was teasing, but it did the job. They had jumped apart, and Tahcawin already missed the warmth. But Sean kept his hands on her, almost as if staking a claim.

“Get lost, yer just jealous.” 

Javier scoffed at this, but went back towards Boaz, muttering something about manners. Neither the red-head nor the half-Indian cared. And soon there lips met again.

It took about two hours before someone at camp missed them. Mac Callander had been looking for Tahcawin. They had made plans a couple of days before to rob this stagecoach coming though, and the girl was never late for a stagecoach. So where the hell was she?

When he did eventually find them, he saw more of the Irishman than he had ever wanted to see, and warned the rest of camp to stay away from the hitching place. When asked why, he only had to give them a look of pure exasperation and tell them who were missing to make them see the point.

Well, all of them except Bill Williamson. The man was a little slow after all, and because of this he was the first in camp - aside from her new-found lover - to learn how the usually quiet girl sounded in the throes of passion.

Chapter Text

“Come on tíogar, give us a kiss.”

The Irishman was egging on his lover, who was trying her very best to keep her stoic expression in place. Today was the day. Today they would come into possession of all the money they could ever need and move on to greener pastures. Their last day of a life of crime.

But as always, the black-haired girl relented. Kissing him full on the lips in front of their friends. Their family. The redhead quickly brought his arms around her, crushing the lean girl to his body. Neither of them heard the wolf-whistles, so completely entranced in each other they were.

“You better be careful out there Sean MacGuire.”

He brought his hand to his head in a salute. Laughing with that big grin of his.

“Of course my lady, the great Sean MacGuire will see this heist to a success! Besides, I have been told I am particularly well versed in arson.” For added effect he took his hat in his left hand and made an exaggerated half-bow.

He joked with her, but she could not completely suppress her fear. She had always been the more responsible of the two. The brains in their relationship. She liked his childish jokes and the fact that he just did instead of overthinking everything. But a heist was something that one had to overthink. It was extremely illegal. Not that she cared about that, but that was what also made it extremely dangerous.

“You just better come back to me in one piece.”

It was an order more than anything, and the redhead knew. He was putty in her hands. Some nights he still wondered why such a woman would be with him. He spoke a big game and had a big mouth, but he knew she was smarter than him. He knew she was a better shot than him. He truly believed she would survive them all.

Tahcawin gave her lover one last look as she mounted Mato, pulling her friend and partner in crime - one Jenny Kirk - up behind her. Lenny and Maggie pulled up behind her, and they set of in a slow trot.

“Remember the plan!”

The voice of Dutch van der Linde rang out behind them. Of course they would remember their plan. While Jenny was a bit of an improvisor with an impulse control problem and Tahcawin forgot all rules and bounds when she truly saw red, the three youngsters were a responsible bunch. They knew their role in this plan and would execute it as discussed.

They rode into town, Jenny dressed a a noblewoman while Lenny and Tahcawin were dressed as her servants. They hitched their horses some way away from the boarding point of the ferry, keeping the knot loose so they would be able to come should Lenny or Tahcawin whistle for them.

Tahcawin patted her stallion goodbye, like she always did when doing something potentially dangerous. A habit formed as the bond between animal and human had grown stronger.

They fell into their roles with ease. Jenny taking on an air while Lenny and Tahcawin made themselves as unnoticeable as possible. They walked behind Jenny, and Lenny carried a big, empty bag. Keeping up the facade that Jenny would enter said ferry as one of the few rich passengers.

They entered the ferry without problems. Hosea’s fake of the ticket was truly a thing of beauty, and no one thought any danger of a young rich girl and her two servants. 

Jenny made sure to interact with some of the other passengers, establishing her fake identity, while Lenny and Tahcawin scoped out the environment. They could not stray far from Jenny, but both of the darker youths were perceptive, and used to locating the easiest getaways the minute they stepped into the room.

Javier entering the room as one of the guards was their sign to get to work. That meant that Sean, Bill and Mac had set of the explosion on the Southside of Blackwater, hopefully redirecting the law to there. Jenny excused herself from the old man she was conversing with, citing lady problems, and the three went on their way.

Javier had been able to get his hands on a floor-plan of the place a week in advance. While they would not go after the motherlode, there was supposed to be a vault with valuables located in the captains quarters. So while the veterans would get the big score, the youngsters would go and get a little something extra.

They snuck out, quickly making their way up the stairs. Nobody stopped them, barely anyone even looked at them. Everything was going according to plan. A quick pistol-whip, courtesy of Tahcawin, knocked out the single guard besides the captain’s cabin.

And then the time for stealth had ended. The three of them barged in, pistols out. Jenny kept the captain under shot while Tahcawin took out her tools to break open the vault. Lenny was stood outside, visibly getting nervous.

“Hurry up.”

“I’m going as fast as I can, it’s not like I can just throw some dynamite -”

There was a shot. There wasn’t supposed to be a shot, not yet at least. They would do this quick and quiet. A get in, get out kind of plan. No one was supposed to get hurt. In this moment of hesitation the captain moved. Jenny, in her surprise, shot him. And at the same moment Tahcawin finally got the vault open.

She was throwing valuables at Lenny who was stuffing it in his bag. An honest to god firefight had broken out below them.

“We have to go!”

Jenny whisper-yelled. No one had spotted them yet and the gunshot had gone unnoticed. The way down the stair was an easy one, they didn’t encounter a single guard on their way down. It was when they were downstairs that the chaos began. Bullets were flying and people were stumbling over each other trying to get of off this ferry.

The three decided quickly that their best bet was to hide in the chaos, moving along with the masses. But this rabble did not just consist of civilian bystanders. One of them, a young man dressed in a fancy blue outfit and with a gun strapped to his leg looked Jenny in the face.

His eyes went wide in recognition, recognising her from one of the wanted posters depicting known members of the vanderLinde gang. Jenny grabbed Tahcawin’s hand, turning the two of them around.

“Got one of them vanderLinde’s right here!”

The girls went running. Lenny was no where to be seen, and the way to the shore was blocked. Tahcawin grabbed Jenny’s hand, making for the back deck. She knew there was only one way of this boat. So she kept a hold of Jenny’s hand, and she jumped.

The water was freezing cold and the current was strong. Bullets flew around their heads, but they made their way towards the shore. It was a gruelling swim, and neither girl could remember ever being this scared.

What had gone wrong? That was the question, wasn’t it. It was supposed to be the perfect plan, so how could this happen?

It took them a long time to get to land. Neither of them daring to climb out of the river anywhere close to the landing. And they moved slow, tired as they were from both the stress and the physical exertion.

They were soaking as them climbed out of the river, luckily somewhere close to where they had left the horses. Maggie was no where to be found, but Mato was waiting patiently. The Appaloosa stallion was undisturbed by the gunfire, only happy to see his owner again.

Tahcawin helped Jenny on the back of Mato, the horse used to the weight of two riders. Jenny had never gotten around to getting a horse of her own, and she was not very good at riding as it stood anyways.

But they needed a horse in this desperate getaway.

Neither woman knew what exactly happened on that boat. One minute they were with Lenny, trying to crack the safe they were said to keep the expensive jewellery in. The next, an unplanned gunshot and bullets were flying.

Still, they had made it of the boat and onto the horse. They are on track for a perfect getaway this far. The two girls had been able to make fast progress at first, the law wan’t paying any attention to woman. They were looking for the big-shots in the gang, Dutch in particular. But even men like Javier and Bill, who would be easier to notice because of their unusual looks, would be targeted.

Tahcawin spurred Mato on, telling him to go faster and faster as bullets were flying around. The city of Blackwater was in an uproar, there was law everywhere, shooting at anything that might look like an outlaw. And two girls galloping by on a horse was indeed suspicious. 

Tahcawin made sure Jenny had still got her, and moved the horse around the bystanders. Faster and faster towards their set meeting point, some twenty miles outside Blackwater.

It had al seemed like they would get out okay. They had almost reached the north most house in Blackwater when Tahcawin heard a loud shot and felt an increasing heat on her back. She had thought nothing of it at first, spurring on the horse to go faster and faster.

But when she felt Jenny slipping her blood ran cold.

“Jenny! Jenny! Come on, stay with me!”

A desperate plea from a desperate woman. One hand was taken from the reigns to keep the body of her friend on her horse, the other giving the stallion the guidance he needed. Mato ran harder than he should, exhausting himself because of the fear his owner exuded.

It would be two hours later before Tahcawin knew the extent of the damage.

When she arrived at their meeting point, tired and scared, Mato stopped, both horse and rider on their last legs. That is when she learned the true price she had had to pay.

When she lifted the arm that had been supporting Jenny, the girl’s body fell from her horse. There was nothing graceful about it, the corpse of her friend had already started to go stiff. Jenny had fallen face-first on the ground. There was no dignity in death.

She was off of her horse before any of the others had had a chance to look at Jenny, muttering, almost hysterical, a mixture of English and Lakota coming from her mouth. Jenny could not be dead. The best friend she ever had, her oldest companion. She could not be dead.

But no matter how hard she shook the body, how often she stroked her face, Jenny did not move. Jenny did not breathe. Jenny’s eyes kept looking at nothing, and Tahcawin despaired.

It was Hosea who eventually pulled her of the girl and instructed Charles to wrap up her body. They would put it on one of their carts, and bury it when they were out of danger. Tahcawin felt numb when Jenny’s body was covered with a deer pelt. She felt cold and empty.

“Sean?”

She mumbled, wondering where her read-headed lover had gone. Usually he was the first to show up if she even though about showing distress. So where was he?

“Poor thing.”

She heard Hosea mumble, and she faintly noticed him motioning for someone. For Sean? She just wanted him, she wanted him to tell her it would all be okay. To take her into his tent and make her forget. To make her feel loved.

But when Bill Williamson was in front of her with that pained expression on his face she knew that that was not going to happen.

“They took him girl, they took Sean.”

She fell to her knees, to numb to do anything else. Everything had fallen apart so quickly.

Chapter Text

Arthur blew out some smoke, before taking another hit of his cigarette. He had been watching the girl for the last few weeks now. She had lost more in Blackwater than any of them. Her friend, her lover. Hell, even her preferred robbing partner. And it showed.

He had never had much to do with the girl, never minded her either. She was quiet and got the job done. She had gotten along fabulously with the Callander brothers however. Maybe that was why he had stayed away, vicious pair of bastards they had been.

But Blackwater had left its marks on her. She looked older, tired even. Still, she was reliable. Got in quick and quiet and out again before the law had known she was there. Worked alone more than anyone. But there was no joy left in her, almost as if she was just going through the motions.

He knew she was hurting, however much she tried to hide it. He could hear her crying when he lay awake at night. They all could, and yet, no one said anything about it. No one dared to. 

He thought back at what Trelawny had told him yesterday. That Sean was still alive. He had debated telling her, inviting her on this rescue mission. Thinking it might put another expression on her face than pure indifference. But personal experience had made him decide against it. He remembered how he had been when he’d lost his son, the quick bursts of anger burning like a fire in his veins.

She would only jeopardise their mission.

He threw away his cigarette and made for his horse. Setting of to join Charles, Javier and Trelawny to rescue the annoying Irish bastard.

On the other side of camp said girl was preparing her horse. Tahcawin had become even more withdrawn since the events of Blackwater. Not only did she lose her lover and her best friend, she still didn’t know what had happened to her usual partner in crime.

No one knew what exactly had happened to Mac Callander.

And that’s why Dutch was sending her out with Lenny. He annoyed her, always wanting to talk about Jenny. He didn’t miss her as she did. He didn’t know her as she did. He was sweet on a fantasy and she wanted nothing to do with it.

She wanted nothing at all anymore.

“You ready?”

Even his voice annoyed her now. Its pitch to upbeat, to happy for her dark mood. She just nodded, barely even acknowledging the boy. God, she knew she was a horrible person to be around, but why did Dutch have to send her out with Lenny.

Their ride was mostly silent. They had a good idea where the stagecoach would be coming though. It would be three people on the coach, a driver and a pair of rich newlyweds returning to Saint Denis from their honeymoon around Strawberry. Why anyone would honeymoon there was beyond her.

But still, soft city folk usually made easy takings.

They waited in the bushes until the carriage came around the corner. Lenny would take this one, and she would be his back up should something go wrong. 

The dark-skinned boy dismounted his horse, a with a fake-cripple gait, moved to the middle of the road, waving the stagecoach down.

“Help! Help! My horse has thrown me!”

As expected the stagecoach stopped, the drivers they hired were usually kind enough to want to help the unfortunate. At some point she might have had feelings by that thought, wondering if she should really take from folks that were trying to be kind, but after everything that had happened she just felt empty inside.

Lenny pulled his pistol, pointing it at the horse. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. The coach driver was arguing, she could see that much. He wasn’t scared of Lenny. Might have been in this business to long, or maybe he was just a brave fool. Whichever it was, the youngest member of the vanderLinde gang wasn’t exactly putting the fear of god into him.

This is taking to long, was all the girl thought. Sure, it might be friendlier to talk them out of their valuables, and she was pretty sure that was how Lenny was used to doing it. But she’d learned proper robbing from the likes of Mac Callander. She did nog have the time nor the patience for it.

She spurred Mato on, galloping out of the bushes and stopping the imposing Appaloosa stallion right in front of the stagecoach. She then pulled out her rifle, pointing it at the driver. Her face cold, eyes indifferent.

“You better give him what he asks for.”

This did spook the people in the carriage, none of them doubting the girl would actually shoot. She was the definition of the low-life criminals they had been warned for their entire life. No emotion, no joy, and someone who would feel no remorse for gunning down three unarmed civilians. This combined with the horror stories of natives these city-folk had grown up with, made her a whole lot more imposing than the dark-skinned youngster.

The woman with the company started to softly cry, begging her husband to just give it to them. That their life was more important than her wedding ring. That family heirlooms were worth nothing if they was no family left.

Lenny collected their valuables, trying to defuse the situation as much as he could. But inside he was fuming. He did not know how Tahcawin and Mac used to run their robberies, or if Sean would let her get away with this kind of behaviour, but he did not like it. Not one bit.

Sure, he was an outlaw like the rest of them, but there was some feeling left in him. He used to think she was one of the good ones as well. A little quiet, sure, he had never gotten on with her as well as he got on with Sean and Jenny. But he had thought her to be decent, why else would Sean be so sweet on her? Now, he was not so sure.

She made sure to keep her rifle pointed at them until they had vanished from their sights. Never saying a word to her companion. She knew he didn’t approve. She also didn’t care. She didn’t care much in general these days.

Still, their take had been good. Dutch would be happy.

The ride back to camp was again a silent one. It usually was these days. Lenny missed the times from before Blackwater, when he would ride out with Jenny and they would laugh about anything and everything. Tahcawin and Mac had suited eachother, her a creature of pure efficiency, and he a violent hothead. But Lenny was nothing like Mac, and he had no way of influencing Tahcawin. They were a bad fit, and they both knew it. But they were the youngest of the bunch, and thus grouped together.

 As they neared the camp both noticed there was a commotion near the main campfire, which got Lenny excited. He spurred Maggie on, wanting to get there quicker. Mato followed the mare, needing no guidance from his owner.

As they came closer the sound of the voice they heard made the bonds around Tahcawin’s heart tighten. That voice - it couldn’t be? But as the rest of camp noticed their arrival, they moved out, leaving a free path between her and the just rescued ginger.

She was of her horse before she knew it, running towards her missing lover at a breakneck speed. She flung herself around his neck, the poor boy having trouble keeping upright.

“Now that’s a way to be welcomed home ain’t it!”

Tahcawin buried her face in his neck, familiarising herself again with his scent. He was dirty and sweaty, but underneath that the smell she had come to associate with home still shone through. She faintly heard the others laugh, but she had not a care in the world.

He was alive.

His expression softened, and he wound his arms around his lover. He had missed her, missed her something fierce. She had been the reason he had been able to withstand the torture, to keep his mouth shut. The idea that she had gotten out and his silence would ensure her survival had made it bearable.

And it was all worth it now that she was back in his arms.

He knew it had changed him, the torture after being captured by Ike Skelding. It would change any man. There was a carefulness about him now that hadn’t been there before. Sure, he still liked to talk and talk much, but he thought twice about some things now instead of not at all.

The party they had organised for him had been fun and all, and he was slightly drunker than he would have liked to be during his reunion with his beauty. But all he wanted was to get reacquainted with the body of his lover. Sure, he loved the gang, but it hadn’t been the promise of seeing them again that had kept him going all those weeks.

“Well, I’m sorry gentleman, thanks for the party, but I’ve got something else on me mind.”

Bill and Micah jeered them on, whilst Arthur looked uncomfortable. One thing the older man had not missed was Sean’s lack of subtlety. Everyone in camp tended to know when he was busy, even more so since he and Tahcawin had gotten together. He had never expected it, but that girl would walk though fire for the Irishman. It made Arthur nostalgic for the love he thought he had once had.

Sean took his lover by the hand, hurrying her along to John’s tent. She needed no encouragement in following him, not this time. He needed to feel her close, needed to lose himself in her again.

Tahcawin felt the same.

He had barely closed the curtains before she was pulling at his clothes, unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers. They both needed this. He threw his hat to the ground and helped her get him out of his shirt.

It was then that she paused, running her fingers over the burn scars now littering his torso. She traced them as gently as she could, getting familiar with the new bumps and grooves on the body of her lover.

He let out a joyless laugh that caused her to look up.

“Sean your teeth -”

“Ugly ain’t it.”

He hated that part the most, the missing teeth. It had been so painful to get it pulled, and when Ike Skelding had shown him his face in the mirror, he had almost cracked. His eyes were downcast now, would she think him ugly?

A hand reached his cheek, moving his head so he was looking straight in her green eyes. She pressed her lips to his, not breaking eye-contact.

“You could never be ugly to me Sean MacGuire.”

“Tíogar.”

The words were barely a whisper, and his mouth was back on hers. There was no time for their usual banter. Maybe later tonight they would try again with their usual laughter. But this, this was pure need.

Her hands were struggling with his pants while he was opening her shirt. Hands tracing her sides, thumb flicking over the slightly raised mole she had on the left side of her bellybutton, before reaching her breasts.

His rough hand flicked a nipple, and she moaned into his mouth. It had been to long for both of them. He was about ready to burst from that sound alone.

Sean backed his lover into the bed, laying her down under him. It was then that he pulled back, taking in the sight in front of him. Her pupils were blown wide with lust, her dark braid messier than before. 

He wasted no time in pulling her pants down her legs and covering her body with his. His lips back against hers, pressing desperately together while his left hand made his way down her body, until he found what he was looking for.

“Gods, ya have missed me haven’t ya.”

He could feel how slick she was for him, how she mewled when he applied the lightest pressure to her clit. He needed to be inside her, now.

And so he was. He wasted no time, pushing in her fast and hard, again and again. They were loud. Loud and quick.

He could feel himself nearing his peak, trusts becoming sloppier and more erratic when he felt her walls contract around him and heard her moan. He was about to pull out, so close now, when he felt her legs closing around his backside, keeping him in.

“Keep going, please Sean, more!”

She breathed, and he complied. Resuming his trusts. Harder and faster, sweat dripping from his brow. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Baby I -”

And with a moan so loud the rest of camp must have heard it he spilled his seed inside her. His release made him see stars, a beautiful contrast to the torture he had been subjected to these last few weeks.

She refused to let him pull out of her, keeping him there with her legs. He rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling.

They were together again, and everything would be alright.

Chapter Text

Sunlight entered the newly set up tent though the cracks, illuminating those inside. The red-headed man ran his fingers over the naked form of his lover. It had been two weeks since his rescue, two weeks since he had been reunited with his girl.

He looked at her naked form, so different in her sleep than when she was awake. Rough fingers started at her hairline, running over her closed eyes to her mouth, pausing there for a moment. She looked so innocent when she slept, like the girl she was. Gone was the angry set of her mouth, or the furrowing of her brow. She looked soft.

He continued his way down, down the soft skin of her neck, flicking his finger over her nipple. He arrived at her stomach, slightly bulging now. They told him she had pretty much stopped eating after the events of Blackwater, unable to get anything in. Now he was back he had seen her wolfing down her food. He was glad he had that effect on her.

He was glad he seemed to make her as happy as she made him.

The dark-haired girl stirred, and opened her eyes. A content smile on her face as she looked at the man beside her.

“What are you doing?”

His fingers drew shapes on her stomach, and she had to repress a giggle. It tickled.

“You’re getting fuller love.”

It was a joke, they both knew that. She’d never been anything but lean muscle in her whole life. Still, she couldn’t help but shoot back.

“Thought you like your girls curvy?”

“Aye, my little tíogar, that I do.”

“Funny how you ended up with me than.”

She couldn’t help but stick out her tongue at him. He was the only one that did that to her, he was the only one that brought out her playful side. The side no-one but him would see. He was her safety-net, in a way.

“Well, you’re the perfect woman for me.”

“I’m the only one who would have you for more than a night.”

“See! Thats why you’re perfect!”

She laughed at that, and his eyes crinkled at the edges as well. He blew a raspberry on her tummy then, eager to get more joyful sounds out of her. She pulled him toward her, her lips skimming his, not quite kissing them. One hand caught in his hair, the other moving down his body, eager to be closer to him, to feel more of him.

Someone hit the side of the tent, causing the lovers to let each other go.

“Get up lovebird, we’ve got a coach to rob.”

The sound of John Marston was a most unwelcome one at that moment. They looked at each other, two pairs of green eyes boring into each other. Both annoyed with their current predicament, and both filled with promises for later.

They helped each other dress, hands lingering in places. They were obviously still in the process of reacquainting themselves with the other’s body, even if they hadn’t been apart for so long. For Tahcawin, it was familiarising herself with the new scars littering his body. The difference in his kisses now that some of his teeth were missing. 

While for Sean it was more about proving that she was here, that she was real. Some nights he still woke up in a cold sweat, back in that cabin with Ike Skelding and his men. It was her presence next to him that always brought him back to were he was.

He knew his da would be proud of his choice of woman. Even if she was the only one who could actually stand him for more than a night.

They exited their tent, making a beeline for the horses where John and surprisingly, Abigail, were already waiting.

“I’m coming with y’all.”

The young mother gave no other explanation, but she looked at Tahcawin with the same type of concern she’d had in her eyes for days now. It made Tahcawin uncomfortable, almost as if the other woman knew something she didn’t. Something bad.

The horses were quickly saddled and mounted, and the four of them went on their way. Ennis and Old Boy, not the greatest of friends, were kept a ways apart by their riders, keeping the risk of bucking horses to a minimum.

They rode of at a decent speed, having to make it to the meeting point before the sun was high in the sky. And it was quite a ways of.

The four of them joked with each other during the ride, especially John and Sean. John was happy he got to ride of with someone who looked up to him instead of reminding him of all of his mistakes. Sean was happy because he got to feel useful again, after being locked away. Abigail was happy because John had sat down with their boy properly last night. 

And Tahcawin didn’t feel so good.

It was Abigail who first noticed the girl had gone pale. And it hadn’t been the first time she’d seen it. She stopped her horse, causing John to stop Old Boy as well, which in turn caused the other horses to stop on their own.

The dark-haired girl slumped on her horse. Her lover jumped off of Ennis and was there to catch her in an instant. Worry clouded his features.

“Tíogar, are you okay? Is something -”

”I’ll take her to a doctor.“

Abigail voice was strict, and neither man had the guts to stand up to a woman such as her. Tahcawin declined, but a stern look shut her up. That, and Sean’s concern, telling her to please go. After everything he’d gone through these last weeks, she’d do anything to make him happy. To assure his worries, he had enough of them as it was.

And so they went, leaving the men to get on with the robbery.

The ride to Valentine was a quick one, both women not speaking much. Tahcawin didn’t know why Abigail was making such a fuss. Sure, she was feeling faint and tired more often than not now, and since Sean had returned she’d been eating a lot. But all of that could be explained by circumstance. She had barely eating anything when she’d though she’d lost everyone, nauseous from loss. And now that she could finally relax because she had him back she had to catch up on sleep lost.

Really, it could easily be explained.

But Abigail had a will of steel, and Tahcawin had learned early on that you didn’t go against her. Unless you were John Marston of course. Although he hadn’t been there when she’d first joined them, the minute he came back it was clear that Abigail let him get away with almost anything with only a bit of screaming for her troubles. She loved him, simple as that.

They hitched their horses in front of the doctors office. A shiver ran up Tahcawin’s arms. She hadn’t ever entered an office like this before, her mother taking care of her wounds and illnesses as a child. And during her teenage years she and Jenny had been to poor for proper medical care.

Abigail took the hesitant girl by the arm and marched her into the doctors office, setting her on a chair while she engaged the assistant in conversation.

They didn’t have to wait long, the doctors office here wasn’t a busy one. 

Tahcawin took her place on the examination table, feeling uncomfortable under the older mans gaze. She supposed he looked like a kind old man, a learned man, with his monocle and grey hair. But the whole setting of the room made her feel uncomfortable.

What if Abigail was right, what if something was truly wrong with her?

“Ma’am, you’re friend here said you’ve been feeling faint?”

His voice was deep, deeper than she would have expected given his appearance. She nodded.

“How long have you been feeling faint ma’am?”

“Couple of weeks now, I think? Honestly, I’m not sure, it hasn’t really bothered me so far.”

The doctor scribbled down what she said in his little notebook.

“Any other symptoms? Have you been feeling nauseous? Bouts of tiredness maybe?”

“I’ve been tired a lot, sure, but -”

Abigail interjected before she could finish her sentence.

“She’s been eating poorly for weeks, it’s only just that I’ve seen her eat normal food again. And now she’s wolfing it down.”

The doctor made some notes gain, mumbling interesting, interesting under his breath. Not the words one wants to hear when visiting a doctors office. A small smile appeared on his face, and it made the stress Tahcawin was experiencing slightly lessen.

“If I may ma’am, could you lift your shirt for me and lay down.”

She lifted her shirt and laid on her back as instructed. The doctors cold hands descended on her belly, pushing slightly, asking her about discomfort.

“Tell me ma’am, when have you last had your monthly?”

That question made Tahcawin pause. She couldn’t actually remember when she’d last bled. It had been to hectic, with everything that had been going on. But she hadn’t washed her rags in quite a while. Not since Blackwater did she think.

“I - I don’t really know doctor. Not for a while I think.”

He nodded again, prodding some more. It took not long before he apparently found what he was looking for, and motioned for Tahcawin to redress herself.

“Congratulation ma’am, I believe you to be pregnant.”

Pregnant.

Abigail had never seen the girls eyes this wide. And Tahcawin had never experienced this particular kind of shock. Pregnant. A little version of her, of Sean. A tiny new life growing inside of her, something created out of love.

But they were outlaws, and in a dangerous spot right now. This would be no life for a child. What was she going to do? And what would Sean think, he was most definitely not the type to settle down. What if she had another John on her hands? She knew for sure she couldn’t do this alone.

As in a trance, Abigail led her out of the doctors office, taking care of all payment. The pale woman helped her mount her horse, and led the both of them back to camp. Tahcawin knew Abigail was talking to her, but the words could not reach her.

What was she going to do?

They arrived at camp far sooner than Tahcawin had wanted them to, a worried Sean hurrying towards them and helping his stunned lover from her horse. He was speaking to her, but she wasn’t hearing him. It was Abigail who answered him, Abigail who told him to go somewhere quiet with her.

With his arm around her waist he took them to a secluded spot near camp. They had spend their evenings here, when John had wanted his tent back and they hadn’t gotten one for themselves yet. He knew it to be quiet.

But he was worried, and he did not know how to deal with it. Tahcawin was the strong one, his rock. She was usually the one comforting him, showing him the right path to take. Seeing her this out of it scared him. He felt horrible, not knowing how to fix it.

He pressed soft kisses to her cheeks, then her forehead. Mumbling sweet nothings to her. She relaxed a bit. He loved her, she knew he did. So maybe it would be okay.

“I’m pregnant.”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and she could not bear to look at him. If she had, she would have noticed the widening of his eyes, the tentative beginnings of a smile.

“Pregnant?”

His hand came up towards her chin, softly moving her face up so she was looking him in the eye. His other hand came up quickly when he noticed the tear leaking from her eye. He couldn’t have that now.

“Tíogar, love, we having a baby?”

She nodded, so uncertain of what she was supposed to be feeling. But the red-head had no such reservations. A wide smile broke out on his face, and he peppered hers with silly kisses. Unable to help herself, a smile now formed on her face as well.

“Imma be a da.”

He said it with so much wonder in his voice, with such happiness, she couldn’t help but pull him down for a searing kiss. Of course he would be happy, of course he would make sure it would all be alright. If she was his rock he was her sun. Always able to make her world a little brighter.

He picked her up and twirled her around, almost dancing with happiness. Repeating the words - a da, me, a da - over and over again. Maybe he could finally forget about the torture they put him through when he’d have his child in his arms.

That evening there was a party in camp, an excuse to break open to good bottles of whiskey. Sean was louder than ever, telling everyone who would hear it how amazing their child was going to be. Surprising those around him, he barely touched the bottle, not wanted to taint the memories of his lover sitting there, the adoration in her eyes. He wanted to remember this day for the rest of his life.

He had known her fear. He felt it too. It would be difficult, they were outlaws after all, and neither of them was made for a quiet life. But they loved each other, and got along better than John and Abigail. Jack seemed like a happy kid to him, and he was sure their little one would be the best loved kid this side of the Atlantic.

Chapter Text

The read-headed Irishman watched his lover struggle to get her dress on through half lidded eyes. She was filling out quite a bit, her stomach bulging out now, the lines of her muscles no longer defined. He found that he quite liked her like this, softer than she’d ever been. Full with his child. He could admit to himself that that was most likely the main reason.

He’d never thought he would ever become a father. He never thought he’d find the kind of love he had either. He was a gangly Irishman with too big a mouth and too loud a personality. And a criminal to booth. He’d never expect to find a true kind of happiness.

Yet, as he was laying on their cot, watching his unaware lover. He knew he had found it.

A shirt hit him square in the face. Not quite unaware then. A loud laugh left his body, her throws were getting weaker as well. But still, he’d listen to his girl. He knew how to hormones could get to her, and how that had ended him in some very unfortunate situations. And in some that he had found most pleasant.

He made a show of getting up out of the bed, calling her a slave driver in that Irish drawl of his, rubbing her stomach and muttering some half forgotten Irish phrases to his unborn child. She knew he all ment it in good fun. She was barely able to keep her hands of him, even as she made him get dressed. Those damn hormones. But even she knew it was more than that. It was love, plain and simple.

They exited their tent together, squabbling as was their usual. None of the other gang-members so much as blinked their eyes at their antics anymore, most them having had quite a while to get used to this most unusual couple.

Tahcawin sat down next to Abigail, the woman who’s dress she was wearing - and even she could admit that the dress did not fit Tahcawin properly at all, but one must make do with what is available - and was greeted by the other woman’s hand on her stomach. It was a ritual than had gotten into after Tahcawin had broken down one night to her friend, unsure and scared about this whole situation. Abigail had sympathised, she’d been in a similar situation with a much less helpful partner. But a sisterhood was born then, and both were grateful for it.

Sean on the other hand made his way to Pearson’s tent, grabbing breakfast for both him and his girl. He found that he liked taking care of her in her condition, their roles the complete reversal of what the’d been before. He liked that she could depend on him. It made him feel much more the adult than everyone thought him to be.

He brought her the food and plopped down next to her, pulling her into his side. She chowed down her food in record speed, and then proceeded to steal bits from his plate. Not that subtle, but she knew he wouldn’t mind. His free hand absentmindedly stroked her side whilst she was in deep conversation with Abigail.

Life was good, and it would get even better.

He’d be meeting Arthur, Micah and Bill later that day for a meeting in Rhodes. Finally a mission with the big guns. He figured with the baby coming and everything Dutch was finally seeing him as a functional adult, as a useful member of this gang. And he could get used to that.

Their leisurely morning lasted way to short for him to fully enjoy her as he had these past few days. He had barely been involved in the planning of this thing, instead he’d been sitting at camp, healing from the slight burns he’d gotten whilst setting fire to the Braithwaite plantation.

He was both itching to get out, and dreading it. The longer he was back at camp after that horrendous experience with Ike Skelding, the more he never wanted to leave. Sure, he wanted to be productive, wanted the others to give him some respect. But knowing now what could happen when it did go wrong, there was a caution to him that hadn’t been there before.

It was far to quick that Micah and Bill called him over. He placed a quick kiss on his beloveds lips, which she - unsurprisingly - tried to deepen. Hormones really did get to her, he realised yet again, and he didn’t mind one bit.

While Tahcawin saw her lover ride out with the two least trustworthy members in camp - and that included the O’Driscoll - she let out a sigh. Abigail’s mouth curled up at that, she’d been in that position before. Seeing John ride of with people she wasn’t sure about, it wasn’t easy, not at all.

To Tahcawin it was harder to be left behind than to be the one in danger, and Abigail knew.

So the older woman kept her friend busy. Neither could read, but Tahcawin remembered some of the tales her mother used to tell her as a child, en Jack was entranced whenever she decided to tell him one. So that is how they spend most of their early morning, Abigail’s hands kept busy with the mending of some of John’s undershirts, whilst her boy was looking and listening to her friend, eyes wide in wonder.

Abigail loved seeing her son like this, especially as it seemed to occur less and less.

Midday was a different affair though. Clothing needed to be washed, vegetables chopped and tents cleaned. Most of the men were out during this time of the day, so that is when the woman did most of their busywork as well. A system designed to keep everyone out of each others way.

Abigail and Tahcawin were assigned washing duty that day, setting their large tub of water and soap in a sunny spot in the camp. The water on their hands and arms a comfortable contrast to the heat of the midday sun. They laughed and talked, Sean’s return and pregnancy had given Tahcawin a joyfulness and openness he had never had before. And Abigail enjoyed it. This woman she could be friends with, not the stand offish girl with a permanent glare that had first joined them, nor the shell who had lost to much at Blackwater. But the soon-to-be mother? That was a friend worth having.

Tahcawin got up when she noticed a rider coming into town, something large on the back of his horse. Walking towards it she could make out it was Bill. Why is he alone? She wondered, where was Sean? He’d promise to return directly after.

A few more steps made clear what Bill had stowed on the back of his horse. Blue jeans, and that horrible blue-ish jacket. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and she took a tumble to the ground. Abigail got up in a hurry, almost running towards her friend and knocking over their tub in the progress. Water soaked her dress and the floor, but she did not care.

A wail that scared all of those currently at camp rose from the girl. A sorrow so deep, a pain so real Abigail’s last few steps might have been the fastest she had ever taken. Tears of desperation streamed down Tahcawin’s face as she could focus on Sean’s. Or what was left of his face at least. Blood everywhere, with little bits of brain sticking to what was left of his hair. His left eye dangling from its socket by the nerve, his right completely gone. The last traces of a smile on his lips.

“I’m so sorry girl” Bill started awkwardly, the big men unaccustomed to both crying woman and giving comfort. But in her grief Tahcawin did not register anything he said.

Abigail helped her up, supporting her body as the pregnant girl was trembling all over. Together they took the final steps to Bill’s horse, to what was left of Sean. Tentatively her hands reached out, fingers ghosting over the remains of her lover. He was cold to the touch. He’d never felt cold before, not even in the dead of winter, that cold night when they’d been stuck in the cabin north of Blackwater She caressed his jaw, ran her fingers through what was left of his hair. Her hands were getting coated in the bits of blood and brain that were still somewhat liquid.

Abigail tried to pull her away, feeling nauseous from looking at Sean’s remains. But she didn’t have the strength to move Tahcawin. She refused to let go of the body, grabbing onto the jacket when she felt Abigail pulling. Tears were streaming so hard by now she could barely see. So hard she could almost ignore the wound that took of half of his face.

Charles, noticing Abigail’s struggles made his way towards them. With his superior strength he was able to lift Tahcawin up, carrying her as if he would a babe back to the fire. She’d turned in his arms, her tears soaking his tunic. He didn’t mind. He’d known true grief before, and would support her in hers.

Chapter Text

No matter how long she could not forget the last morning she had spend with her lover. The way his hand hand rubber her stomach, the soft words he had mumbled to their unborn child. It were memories like these that kept her alive.

She’d live in this world of memories if she could. 

If she pretended hard enough she could almost feel his hands on her stomach, feel his breath on her lips, or smell his scent in the air. But it was always fleeting, a memory of what was.

He was never coming back.

With her hand resting on her now bulging stomach, she looked around their new camp. Lakay was the most depressing place she’d ever stayed. Worse than the little shithole she and Jenny had occupied in Blackwater. Worse than the mouldy mansion at Shady Bell.

But it soothed her mood, somehow. The macabre tokens hanging around, the ones Charles hadn’t had the time to remove yet, reminded her of those who died. Strangely enough the skulls gave her a feeling of security, of ancestors looking down at her.

She knew it was strange. She knew she’d become strange.

She’d spend hours on her own, speaking soothing words to her unborn child. Sometimes Abigail would check up on her, the concerned friend she was. Most others would just leave her alone. She’d become reckless and quick to anger, and the girls feared conversation with her now.

The only one who’d had preserved, besides Abigail, had been Arthur. And he’d been lost after the fiasco in Saint Denis. 

In the distance she could see Charles and Sadie, their defacto leaders, arguing. They’d done much for everyone here, even Tahcawin couldn’t deny that. They’d gone out together to this place in the middle of nowhere with only the word of Leopold Strauss to go on. And they’d found them a new home.

In another life, and if she hadn’t been pregnant, de half-blood girl knew she would have been one of the first to offer to help them. Be one more gun in the face of danger. But not anymore. She didn’t have it in her no more.

And the rest of what’s left of the gang knew. They didn’t ask her to come and eat no more, but left a little for her in the pot. They didn’t count her in on their watch schedules, but knew she would sit in the same spot on the west side of camp all day, keeping an eye out. Shotgun close at hand.

She was turning into a ghost. And most of them let her.

Most of the morning she’d been feeling sharp, stabbing pains in her belly and lower back. They’d come and gone, but now they were becoming unbearable. And for a woman who had been shot quite a few times, that was saying something.

The pain was like a wave, steadily increasing to a peak before disappearing completely. They were closer together now, and sweat was started to drip down her temple. She’d clenched her hands and was gritting her teeth. It hurt.

She sits there in pain for what feels like forever, her black hair sticking to her forehead now. She knows she needs to move, go somewhere safe. She’d be no use if something came out of that swamp now.

So she tries to stand up, and it feels to be one of the hardest things she’s ever done. The stabs getting closer and closer together now, the skirt of her dress soaked. She’s confused about whats happening. She’s scared.

But still, perseverance is everything, and she manages to get up. Shaky steps are taken towards the cabin, which seems so far away now.

It’s Miss Grimshaw who sees her go down, and it’s Miss Grimshaw who enlists all the girls in camp to help her.

She and Abigail hurry towards the expecting mother, and help her up. They are almost carrying her to the shack now, mumbling encouragement and telling Tahcawin she’s doing great.

The three woman struggled to make it to the shack, making their way around the many boxes and other obstacles left by the previous occupiers of this lovely locale. But eventually they made it.

“Everyone who doesn’t want to help, get lost!”

Miss Grimshaw’s tone was such that none dared to defy her. The girls had never seen Uncle move quite so fast. The Reverend, who had been cleaning up his act after everything that had went down in Saint Denis, offered his help should it be needed. But Miss Grimshaw ushered him out anyways.

They hoisted her up on the table, Tahcawin’s face contorted in pain. Abigail held her from the back, remembering the pain she had had to endure with Jack, and hoped her presence would make it easier for her friend. She had had them she cared about around when she’d had to go though it. Even John had sat there holding her hand while she pushed out her son. In that moment she had thought all would be well, never mind what had happened after.

Tahcawin had none of that.

Her lover and the father of her child was dead. Her oldest friend had been long dead. And now the man who had been looking after her these last few months was presumed dead.

Abigail felt for the girl. 

Mary-Beth brought in a bucket of water and a towel, standing to the right of the moaning girl and wiping the sweat of her brow. Miss Grimshaw had positioned herself between her legs, pushing up her skirt and looking for the baby.

“You gotta push girl.”

She was soft but determined. A harsh mother, but a loving one. To Susan Grimshaw these moments were the closest she would ever have to seeing a grandchild being born, so she cherished them.

The only person in that room that could not see the beauty of that moment was the mother to be. Tahcawin was in the worst pain she had ever been in, physically that it. It felt like she was being split in two.

And she missed Sean more than ever.

Remembering the elated smile he had had one his face when she’s told him, the way he had gone around camp telling everyone he was about to become a father. He should have been here with her.

She was sweating from the pain, a single tear forming at her left eye. It hurt so bad. She was screaming profanities, mostly aimed at Miss Grimshaw who was sticking her hands between her legs, trying to get the child out. But most of all she was begging for her lover to hold her.

Mary-Beth, ever the romantic, had to excuse herself from the room. Tears forming at the young girls eyes from the unfairness of it all. Real life seemed to be nothing like those romances she liked to read.

It was Abigail who whispered sweet and encouraging words to her friend, remembering the pain. It was Abigail’s hand that was getting bruised from how hard Tahcawin was gripping it. And it was Abigail who would do it all again. She knew what it was like to feel alone in this world.

Tahcawin didn’t know how long she had been pushing and screaming when she finally heard her baby cry. It could have been days, or excruciating minutes.

But when Miss Grimshaw cleaned the crying little infant and whispered sweet words to the child, she felt more exhausted than she had ever felt before. All she wanted to do was sleep. She wasn’t ready to be a mother. She wasn’t made to be a mother.

She couldn’t do this without Sean.

That thought changed completely the moment Miss Grimshaw placed the tiny infant in her hands. Tahcawin had never seen anything so perfect. Those big green eyes and the hint of reddish hair. Her daughter. Their daughter. No matter how she grew up, Tahcawin knew she would always see her Sean in her daughter. And that made her happier than ever.

She cooed at the girl, tears of happiness leaking out of her eyes.

“Jenny,” she spoke softly, “Her name is Jenny. Jenny MacGuire.”

Her daughter would be her chance at happiness, her new reason to live. The embodiment of all those she had lost, all the love she had thought she had lost. She’d make sure Sean had a daughter he could be proud of.

Chapter Text

“They took her, they took Abigail!”

Tilly’s voice was frantic as the man returned to the camp at Beaver Hollow. The horse she was riding was carrying all it could. She had Jack on the back, the boy holding on tight, and little Jenny in an wrap around her front.

Next to her, on a mean looking Appaloosa stallion, was little Jenny’s mother. A fire burning in her eyes that hadn’t been there for quite some time, shotgun in her hand.

Neither woman was surprised when Micah convinced Dutch to leave Abigail to her faith, anyone could see that the once charismatic leader was no more. Or maybe they finally saw him as he really was. But there was still Arthur, reliable man that he was. And Sadie, the woman with more courage than any man.

Of course they would go and save Tahcawin’s friend.

They said their goodbye’s to Tilly, Tahcawin kissing little Jenny’s face, promising her baby that she would see her again soon. She just first had to save her Auntie.

Tilly rode off, and the three hunters set of in a back-breaking pace. Their horses flying through the woods, as if they could understand the importance of the situation.

They ditched their horses on the edge of Van Horn, and Sadie and Tahcawin snuck towards town, Arthur holing himself up in the lighthouse on the southern edge of town. It would give him a good viewpoint, and he’d cover them from above.

They’d get Abigail back.

As soon as the two woman properly entered Van Horn the shooting started. They had known they were coming, and there was a lot of law in town. Bullets were flying, killing lawman left and right. One stray bullet grazed Tahcawin’s cheek, another her shoulder. She was rusty, but muscle memory got her through.

That, and the cover the two proper gunmen provided.

Slowly, they made their way towards the docks, Arthurs cover proving to be their rescue more than one time. Sadie was determined, a proper outlaw by now. Tahcawin just saw red, shooting at everything that moved. Abigail was her friend, and besides her daughter, the only person she had left in this world.

She’d lost a best friend before, she wouldn’t let it happen again.

They’d made it to the trading post at last. Tahcawin kicked open the door whilst Sadie covered her back. But pregnancy and depression had made her slow. Before she knew it she was on the floor, a men holding her down with his knee and binding her arms behind her back.

When she was able to move her head enough to look next to her she saw Sadie wasn’t doing much better. 

They were fucked.

One of the men hoisted Tahcawin up, depositing her on the chair on the far side of the room. Mumbling they would deal with her later, when they turned around to focus their attention on Sadie.

In that moment, the door burst open again, temporarily stunning the lawmen. Arthur stepped inside, still an intimidating presence despite his debilitating illness. Two quick bullets took out the lawmen, before Arthur bend down to cut at the ropes that bound Abigail. A click could be heard, and then a gun was pointed at Arthur.

“Calm down Mister Morgan.”

The voice of the Pinkerton that had been following them all these months was cold. And Arthur couldn’t help himself but cough. He felt like an old man, full of regrets. He would save Abigail from this, even if it was the last thing he did.

“That’s quite a cough.”

Arthur raised his hands, stepping away from Abigail.

“Sure. Tuberculosis. I’ll be dead soon, and you with me Mister Milton.”

“You’ll be dead, sure. But I’m gonna be just fine.”

Tahcawin’s hatred for the man only increased by the tone of voice he used. So condescending, as if the lot of them were worse than the dirt beneath his shoes.

“We offered you a deal, Mister Morgan. Should have taken it.”

By now Tahcawin could hear, rather than see, ropes being ground against wood. It must be Abigail, she thought, trying to get free. The bound girl started moving around, slithering around the ground trying to move to get a better view of the situation. Either that or to find something with which she could remove her bounds.

“I’m a fool Mister Milton.”

“Not all you boys have quite so many scruples, Old Micah Bell - ”

“Micah? You mean Molly?”

“Molly O’Shea? We sweated her a couple of times never talked a word, had to let her go.”

At that admission the bound girl ceased her struggling. Guilt wrecked her body. When Miss Grimshaw had shot Molly Tahcawin had felt the Irish girl had deserved it. As if her betrayal had somehow been responsible for Sean’s death, even though that happened so long before.

It had felt good to have someone to focus her anger on. Someone to focus her hate on. Tahcawin couldn’t say she hadn’t felt a dark form of satisfaction when the shot had hit Dutch’s former lover.

“Micah Bell, we picked him up when you boys came back from the Caribbean and he’s been a good boy ever since.”

“Okay, okay…”

Arthur coughed, but after weeks and weeks of hearing the man cough, Tahcawin knew this wasn’t a true show of symptoms. And when he ducked down to attack the Pinkerton, she was proven right.

The two men were fighting for the gun Miton had been holding. Arthur was bigger, sure, but he was also deathly ill. Milton was egging him on, and the outlaw seemed to be losing the fight.

Until a shot hit the Pinkerton in the chest.

Abigail had managed to set herself free, and had picked up Arthurs gun. As Arthur now descended into a true coughing fit, Abigail cut the other two woman loose.

It was Abigail who got them on their feet again. When they went outside, the place was once again swarming with law. Where all of these men came from, Tahcawin would never know.

The three of them called for their horses, and trained animals they were, they came galloping down in an instant. Thunderous hooves mowing down any man who stood in their way. Abigail mounted Sadie’s horse, while Sadie hoisted the sickly man up behind her. Tahcawin mounted her trusty steed, and guns blazing they rode out of Van Horn.

They made their way towards Beaver Hollow, the law hot on their trail. Mounted coppers appeared out of the trees, setting in their pursuit. Arthur and Tahcawin kept shooting at them, but it seemed like the more they shot down, the more new men appeared.

Before they could ever make it to camp, Arthur made them all stop. He jumped down Sadie’s horse and made his way towards Abigail.

“What happened to John?”

No matter what, the woman would always be concerned about that oaf of a man.

“Where’s John?”

“I-I don’t… I think.”

Arthur couldn’t finish that sentence. Instead he brought his arms to Abigail’s waist, lifting her down from Sadie’s horse.

“Arthur.”

“He… ”

“What?”

“He got killed, or captured”

“No.”

Abigail collapsed, and Tahcawin, who quickly jumped of Mato, caught her friend. Tears welled up in the woman eyes, transforming her harsh face into that of a young girl. Arthur was making his apologies to her, but Abigail couldn’t or didn’t want to understand him. She was crying now, only taking some form of comfort from the arms of her friend around her.

“Listen. We got Jack, he’s safe. Tahcawin will take you to him. But, John, I want you to know this, he loved you. He loved you and Jack, he did. He wasn’t perfect, but he did.”

“Now, you gotta go get that boy.”

Abigail sniffled, but then nodded. Arthur motioned them to mount their horses and get out of there. Sadie mounted first, pulling Abigail up behind her. But Tahcawin hesitated.

“I’m coming with you Arthur.”

She would not be told no, he knew this. Despite everything that had happened to her, the despair she’d allowed herself to fall in. There was still a spine of iron in that woman.

“What about little Jenny?”

“Abigail will watch over her until I return.”

If I return. They both knew that that was what she should be saying. But neither of them said it out loud. Abigail rested a hand on her friend shoulder, and their eyes met. Mother to mother, Abigail’s eyes promised Tahcawin that no matter what happened her daughter would have a home.

“If you two are headed back there, take this.”

Abigail provided them a key, one that looked unfamiliar to Tahcawin. But Abigail explained.

“There’s a chest in them caves, in the back to the left. Hidden under a wagon. Dutch’s chest. With all our money.”

“Abigail Roberts…”

“I always was a good thief.”

“That you was.”

Abigail tears started again, but now for an entirely different reason. She burned Arthurs face into memory, before Sadie spurred Bob on, and the two woman disappeared from sight.

“Well, lets go.”

The two outlaws left mounted their horses. One of them a shell of the man he was, body wrecked by tuberculosis and a mind wrecked by revenge. The other a woman who had only weeks ago found a new reason for living. Her body still not recovered from childbirth, and a spirit with too much anger in it.

They rode in silence, both understanding the gravity of the situation. Both lost in memories of a different time.

This was truly the end of the van der Linde gang.

When the two of them finally rode into camp, those left were in a hurry to get packed. Micah was yelling orders at Miss Grimshaw, and surprisingly enough, she was following them.

They both got of their horses, and Tahcawin choose position behind Arthur. Shotgun in hand, her eyes scanned the camp.

“I just saw Agent Milton, Dutch.”

Dutch finally appeared, stepping foot outside of his tent. He was a shadow of the man he’d been the day Tahcawin had met him. A day that seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Abigail shot him. She’s okay, not that you care too much about that.”

They moved closer and closer, Arthur coming to a standstill in front of his former father figure.

“You rats, all of ya.”

Tahcawin and Arthur stood on the left side of Dutch. Micah and his cronies on the right. The tension in the air was almost palpable.

“Seems old Micah was pretty close with Milton.”

Micah moved closed to Arthur, defences up, questioning what he was talking about.

“You talked.”

Two words, to simple words. But they got Micah angry, more defensive. Dutch was hearing arguments from both sides. His two most trusted men on opposite sides. Tahcawin could see the doubt creeping into his eyes. But who was he doubting?

And they guns were pulled. Micah and his cronies on one side, Arthur and Tahcawin on the other.

And then John Marston walked into camp. Hurt and stumbling, but alive. He was angry, angry they had left him. Angry at Dutch. Dutch tried the usual, calling him his boy, his son. But John was obviously having none of it.

It was also the final drop in the bucket for Arthur.

“All of you, you pick your sides now. Because this, this is over.”

Tahcawin held up her shotgun a little higher, aiming it at the blonde rats face. Finally she found someone she could blame for the deaths of all those she’d loved. Finally she’d found a focal point for the anger in her soul.

It came as no surprise to Tahcawin that Miss Grimshaw sided with Arthur. She’d seen that the older woman had always had a soft spot for the man. The thing that did surprise her was that Miss Grimshaw was still trying to get them to put down their guns. She hadn’t been this peace-loving when she’d shot Molly.

“There’s Pinkertons coming, fast!”

Javier had come running into camp, the Mexican was completely out of breath, looking almost dishevelled for once.

In this moments hesitation, Micah shot Miss Grimshaw. And then hell descended upon Beaver Hollow.

Tahcawin crawled down, making a beeline for the trees, but losing Arthur and John in the process. She knew she couldn’t focus on them. She had the believe they would make it out alive. But she had to live too, for her daughter.

She was just out of sight when the first Pinkerton appeared. Tahcawin shot him though the skull, a lucky shot, but a shotgun blast was an effective killing method. The victory of his death was short-lived however, for now they knew where she was, and she had to run.

She scurried though the bushes, shots missing her left and right. Stopping for minuscule amounts of time to shoot back, fairly certain none of her shots hit their mark. But it slowed the agency down more than it did here.

If she could only make it to Butcher Creek she could hide in one of their houses, hoping the Pinkertons might lose her trail.

She changed her path to go south, keeping close to trees and moving as fast and as silently as possible. They were no longer shooting at her, so she must have lost them at one point.

It was reckless, but she made a run for it, hoping the agency was to busy hunting down the men of the gang to notice her. The gamble made easier by the lack of shooting.

But it was a ruse. She was breathing far louder than she was used to, so loud that the Pinkertons had had no problem tracking her. Her endurance was not what it had been, not so soon after her pregnancy. Her lungs were burning and her feet hurt, but she kept running.

The first shot hit her in the upper leg. She stumbled to the ground but managed to pick herself up, and kept running with an awkward gait. The wound made her even slower, and the next bullet hit her in the stomach.

This one kept her to the ground. She was bleeding like a stuck pig, but still, Tahcawin knew belly wounds were a bad way to die. Three of them came closer, and in a last act of defiance she pointed her shotgun at them, and shot.

One of the men fell to the ground, as dead as can be. His face blown off, and painful memories resurfaced of another who had died in such a way. 

To the right, a face twisted in anger. If there had been any chance for mercy, it was gone now. She had made peace with her fate. Her daughter was safe, Abigail would take care of her. Abigail would probably make her a better mother than she ever could.

As he approached her she noticed the angry Pinkerton was young, barely more than a boy. His hair red and face covered in acne. Weirdly enough it reminded her of the first time she had met Sean, all those years ago.

She knew she was about to die, her body battered and broken. She could not get her legs to move anymore. She decided she would rather die with happy memories. So she thought of those days, of that faithful autumn day in 1897 that she and Sean had finally confessed their feelings for each other. Of their first kiss, they first time making love. The joy she had felt when she had gotten him back after Blackwater. The look on his face when she told him he was going to be a father, she had never seen him more proud.

She didn’t even notice the shot that killed her. 

One second she was thinking of red hair, green eyes, and a far to big smile. The next second she was seeing it again.