Chapter Text
The hair in your braid whipped out with the force of the early autumn wind. The sunburnt wheat in the field swayed stiffly back and forth, looking like waves in the ocean you'd never seen before. Gregory sat on your hip, spitting and babbling. He lights up your world far more than the setting sun does, that's for sure. The horizon is hazy with loose chaff and clouds. You pick off a head of grain in your free hand and watch as it's crumbling fibers blow away.
"Come on, Greg, let's go say night-night to the animals, okay?" He giggles in a way that makes your own grin grow wider. You trudge through the grass and make the short walk back to the barn. You walk to each stall, bidding goodnight to all the critters. You let his hand run over your horse's velvet snout. You'd ridden Crest for a few years now. A wedding present from your late husband. Not a day goes by that you don't think about him, talk to him, or wish he was here to see his boy.
Freshly clothed and placed in his crib, Gregory kicks his legs around, getting out the last dregs of his energy before his day ends. You tickle his stomach, careful not to rile him up to much. That was always your husband's problem, he would play too much before bedtime. Oh, what you wouldn't give to have that problem again. You coo and shush the boy until his long eyelashes flutter to a close. You smile and run your fingertip along the slope of his little button-nose.
𐚁
You pour yourself a cup of coffee and make your way out to the porch, sitting in your rocking chair. An anniversary present. It was a ritual of yours to sit in it and sip something warm while you watch dusk turn into night. The crickets come out and play music for you, the beat to your mindless humming. The stars came out to shine, your usual cue to leave, when you heard a thump. It seems to have spooked your animals, too. Not playing around with cayotes like you did last year, you pick up the shotgun your keep by your back door. Cocking it, you walk out into the yard. You're not stupid enough to call out and give yourself away.
Then you see it. A blur in the distance. You have to squint to see it, but what looks like a horse is ambling slowly around, looking lost and sick. Slackening yet still cautious, you push out the gate and walk into your field, towards the stray horse. As you grow closer it shuffles its hooves, nervous but too tired to fight it.
"Hey," You pause and take a peek, "Boy. Come here, you alright? Did you fall over?"
The horse whinnies and shakes it's head, causing it's tack and gear to make noise and glint in the moonlight. This causes you to grip your rifle tighter, "Are you here all by your lonesome?"
A groan catches you off guard and you point the barrel in it's direction, "Announce yourself!" You call out.
But all that replies is a strained, pain moan. Whoever is there is in no position to do you any damage. You crouch and see a man hidden by the grass, behind the horse.
"Well I'll be damned. You were here the whole time?" You speak, knowing that it's useless to wait for a response.
You kneel by him, feeling the unnatural heat fume off of him. He lays on his side, curled into himself. Rolling him onto his back, you see a better picture of what lays before you. His black cowboy hat is discarded, showing his wavy brown hair. His face is half-covered by a black bandana, but what can be seen is rough skin tanned by the sun. The rest of him is muscled and bulky, not boding well for the idea of bringing him back to his horse. He wore tattered and dirty clothing, but perhaps they were once nice. His boots were of high quality, though. He had a holster on each hip, a revolver tucked into each one, finally a rifle strapped to his back.
"Who on earth are you?" You mumbled. You reach out to untie his bandana. A rough hand snaps to your wrist and holds it back from doing so. His grip is firm at first but slackens almost immediately.
"Don't." Is all he says.
You raise your hands in surrender, "Ok, ok. Then just do me a favor and stand, alright? Can you do that?"
He reaches to his holster, but you stop him, "I'm not here to hurt you. Please, just trust me?" He hesitates, blinks, then complies.
He limps and holds onto you for dear life. The two minutes walk turned into ten, but you three made it back. You open the gate and rush him to the porch, setting him down on your rocking chair.
He writhed in pain, but you still needed some information, "Can you tell me who you are?"
He grunted, "Hurts."
You sigh, "Yeah. I know. Well... can you at least tell me what happened to you, so I can help you?"
He leans forward, "Got stabbed. Beaten." His voice was husky and downright gorgeous, muffled slightly by the cloth. You tell yourself now is not the time for such observations.
"Oh, lord above, who am I bringing into my home? What did you do to deserve that?"
He pushes air out of his nose like a bull, "Bounty."
"Are you the bounty?"
"No. I'm the hunter."
𐚁
He passed out after his meager confession. You were calmed, slightly, by knowing he wasn't a criminal. You brought your medical supplies out and, admittedly, your sewing supplies. You had a sneaking suspicion that your needles were going to be useful tonight. You ended up having to stitch up one stab wound, one deep cut, and disinfect a few shallow cuts and bloody bruises. You were honestly surprised he was conscious when you found him, let alone able to walk or speak. You were clearly dealing with one tough man.
When you finished patching his up, gauze and all, you recalled that you had a child.
"Oh, Greg! Darn it." You peeked into your room, breathing out in relief when you saw that he was still sleeping peacefully. You walked back out into your living room. You eyed the blanket on the sofa.
You slid off the mystery man's boots and placed the blanket on top of him. It wouldn't be that comfortable to sleep like that, but it would be better than waking him. You finally turned your attention to his horse. You brought him a bucket of water and some feed. You brushed him, moreso to calm yourself than him.
"Oh! His hat." You remembered that it was lost in the field, where you had found the bounty hunter.
After fetching it, you returned to the porch. You took a good look, truly examining him as a person, not just a wound. He seemed to be in his thirties. Clearly been through far too much. You wondered if this was the worst of it. Grimly, you figured it wasn't. You set the hat on the deck railing.
"Goodnight, hunter. Deal with you in the morning."
𐚁
The pan sizzled as the bacon grease left your spoon. You'd make the man a proper, country breakfast. Hopefully, it would help him heal and maybe make him talk a bit more. You didn't require much in return for your generosity, if only to know who you were taking care of. You poured batter into the pan as you bounced Gregory on autopilot. Thick slices of bacon and a few of yesterday mornings eggs sat on the counter in waiting.
A creak in the floorboard and a throat clearing made you turn your head, "Good morning, sleepyhead."
He looked confused and - shy? He looked to the side, "Where am I? Who are you?"
"Go take a seat at the table, you shouldn't be up and about. We can talk over breakfast." You smile. He, surprisingly, does as you tell him to. He silently watched you with an eagle eye. Piercing, chocolate eyes.
The heavy plates landed with a thud onto the hardwood table, Greg settling into his highchair. He was very excited for his morning egg. "Alright, let's say grace, then I'll fill you in."
He seemed unamused, "Fine."
You held out your hand but was met with resistance, "Take it." He eventually did.
"Alright, so last night you fell off your horse in my field. I walked you both back and I patched you up on my porch. Now, I'm feeding you."
"That's it?" He grunts, trying and failing to hide his hunger as he shoveled food behind his bandana.
"What do you mean, were you expecting more? If that's boring to you, you should try living here!"
"Well, I was expecting you to somehow be involved with my mission. But you clearly aren't, so I recant what I said."
You spooned a bit of food into Gregory's mouth, "Well, just stay here until you're well enough to go. I wouldn't want you getting hurt."
He sat up straighter, "I have money. Woulda had more if that lowlife didn't jump me."
"Oh, you don't need to give me anything. Truly."
He cocked an eyebrow, "What is it you're getting at, then?"
"Me? What do you mean?" You paused midbite.
He crossed his arms and leaned back, "You really don't want anything, huh?"
"That is what I just said, wasn't it?" You finally ate, realizing that his complaint was moot.
"I don't like debts." He grunted out.
You hummed, "Well it's a good thing you don't have one with me. It's not a debt if the collector doesn't want it repaid."
He looked at you with an expression you truly couldn't describe. It stayed on his face as you cleared away the plates. As you cleaned them. You were surprised how expressive he was with only his eyes. You returned to the table to fetch Greg, "Yer' horse is fed and watered, just tethered him to the post so he wouldn't run. Pretty fella."
"Razor. His name is Razor."
"And yours, stranger?"
He breathed in, "Din."
You told him yours, "Got a last name, Din?"
He shook his head, "I've gotta be careful, ma'am. You've seen why."
You chuckled, "It's just miss, or my name."
"Ya aren't married? Then what's with the kid?" He leaned forward, finally interested, it would seem.
You laughed, "You're a funny guy. No, I'm not married. My husband died. He- He got robbed. Well, robbed and killed."
He crossed his arms, "I'm sorry if I-"
"You're fine, Din. If anything... it was kinda nice to help someone who went through something similar. I know I wish someone woulda helped him."
"What's the kids name?" He changed the subject.
You smiled, "Gregory. It was my pa's name." You bounced the boy on your hip, happy to talk about him.
Din grunted again. He seemed to do that a lot. He moved to get out of the chair but winced. His brows furrowed in frustration.
"I take it you're not usually this confined? I've got some books and some puzzles."
He scoffed and looked to the side, "I'm leaving."
"Oh, no you aren't! Are you crazy?" You walked to him and pressed his shoulder down.
He looked up at you, pretty brown eyes looking at you through his thick, fluttering eyelashes. He actually had quite a large nose, now that you were up closer.
"If you don't have anything useful for me to do, then yes, I'm leaving." He muttered grumpily.
You smiled at that, which seemed to lighten him, "Here, do you really wanna help me?"
He nodded, still looking up at you expectantly, "Yes, miss."
You held Greg out to him, "Look after him while I'm working. I'll leave you all his things and you can settle on the couch."
If you could see his mouth, it would be wide open, "I ain't ever taken care of a child, this isn't a good idea."
"Nonsense, he's the easiest baby ever. If he cries he only wants three things. Food, new diaper, or sleep. If not those things, he just wants to cuddle and play."
He held the child out at arms like, looking at him as though he were an alien. You giggled.
"Looks like it's just you and me, kid." He said in that deep, gruff voice that was starting to grow on you.