The Travelers (6/24-ish)
Title: The Travelers
Author of Chapter: country_who
Rating: PG
Word Count: 13,161(more than a third of our goal!)
Summary: When had his life been reduced to this?
Prologue by abigbluebox| Chapter 1 by country_who| Chapter 2 by abigbluebox| Chapter 3 by country_who|
Chapter 4 abigbluebox and country_who
Chapter 5: Shattered Memories and Hearts Still Broken
The thick smell of cigar smoke filled the sheriff’s office. Even the air seemed to have a slight white haze as the sheriff attempted to blow another smoke-ring. His hair was slicked back neatly and his graying beard grew as stubble around his chin. His blue eyes gazed over the top of his cigar, as he shook his head in disgust with himself, as he crushed it out and thought about throwing it across the room, but instead, he shoved it back in its box and got to his feet.
He took his hat off of its rung and placed it on his head with a frustrated energy that was less than necessary. The khaki cloth of his uniform seemed too clean for the dusty floor of this office. He would have to sweep around here.
Across the room, he reached for the broom and began to meticulously brush the dust into a pile. He brushed it out of the door in a cloud of dirt, settling and disappearing among its’ fellow kind on the ground.
As he placed the broom back against the wall, it slipped and fell against his desk. The force of the blow caused a single picture frame to tumble to the floor and shatter. The shining sliver frame still glittered in the sunlight streaming through the open window, but so did the jagged glass spread out in every direction.
Knots twisted themselves in his throat as he knelt down and picked up the ruined frame. Turning it over, he slid the picture out from the toothed edges of the frame and held it in shaking hands. Raven black hair and emerald green eyes stared back at him. A bright smile of perfect teeth stretched across the young woman’s face. Her hair was half gathered up in the back and the other half falling over her shoulders and down her back. It gave her a look of unrefined elegance that could not be matched.
‘Why not me?’ was the only question that old sheriff could think of. He had risked his life to save the people of this town, but he had failed to save his wife and daughter. He would never know what Lucy had seen in him all those years ago, but, as self doubt circled his mind, he was sure that she would have regretted it.
He suddenly felt the presence of another person behind him. He took a deep breath and got to his feet. Without turning around and keeping his eyes on the photo the sheriff spoke.
“What are you doin’ here Fisher?” the Sheriff’s voice was gruff and stoic, but Fisher had known him long enough to know that when Chris’s voice was unreadable, was when he was hurting the most.
Fisher stepped closer, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“I heard a crash,” Fisher told him. “I thought somethin’ mighta gone wrong.”
Chris nodded his head, and turned around to face the deputy.
“Yeah, something did,” the sheriff told him. “Twenty years ago.”
“Chris, I know you’re hurting, but…” Fisher started.
“I know,” the Sheriff cut him off. “It was twenty years ago and I should have forgotten.”
Fisher shook his head.
“No, I was gonna say, ‘But, what would Lucy want?’” Fisher held the sheriff’s gaze and didn’t allow him to look away. “She was so full of life, Chris, and you know she would hate to see you like this.”
“Shut up,” the sheriff muttered. “How would you know?”
Chris immediately regretted what he had said as a flash of sadness crossed over the aging deputy’s face (if he had been another person, Chris was sure he would have taken his sheriff position in a heartbeat, but Fisher was too loyal for that, and how had Chris just repaid him?).
Fisher observed his boss for a while longer before he nodded and turned to walk away.
“Fish,” the Sheriff called after him, using his nickname from years back. “I know you’re right, and I know that you’re the last person I should accuse of not understanding, what with…you know, I’m sorry.”
Fisher ran a hand through his ruddy red hair and shook his head.
“Me understandin’ makes me know exactly why you said it,” Fisher replied, his pale eyes locking on, once again, to Chris’s.
Without another word, the soft-spoken deputy left. The sheriff watched him go, his step swaggering from years mounted in the saddle. Chris couldn’t help but think back to the days when he was still a fresh-faced kid just trying to make his way.
The sheriff hadn’t wanted to give the kid the time of day at first, after his first deputy had left for the big city, abandoning the town of his birth. But, ironically it was Lucy that had convinced him to keep training the young’un and teach him the ropes.
~//~
Chris stepped into his house in a huff one late night as he dropped his hat onto a simple wooden peg and stepped out of the threshold and turned down a simple wooden wing that he had built himself and into Lucy and his bedroom.
She was sitting up, waiting for him. A candle burned next to her as she wrote inside a little notebook with her fountain pen. She almost never shared what she wrote with him, but sometimes he would catch little glimpses of her drawings or a small excerpt of a piece of her poetry. No one would have been able to tell that she grew up in the hard times of the “Great” Depression just like he and some many others had.
As his approaching footsteps alerted her ears, she looked up and shut her notebook. She gave him a small grin and slid to the side of the bed, motioning for him to sit next to her.
He complied joining her.
“How was your day?” She asked softly.
“All right,” Chris told her.
She gave him a soft giggle that was sweeter than any music.
“Liar,” Lucy whispered, as she leaned against his broad chest.
“Fine, Deputy Tomas left us for a big city somewhere,” Chris told her.
Lucy frowned and murmured her sympathy.
“Now, that feller Fisher is movin’ up to the deputy position, and he’s only been in the law for less than six months,” he grumbled to his wife, as he slid an inch closer and closed some distance between them.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Lucy told him confidently.
“He’s too young,” was Chris’s stubborn reply.
“I do recall that there was another too-young-feller in the law business, and he might have ended up bein’ a pretty good sheriff,” she whispered, sleep threatening to take her over as she curled herself more closely to him.
“Fine,” Chris whispered, as he blew out the candle and sank deeper into the warmth of the cotton sheets. “But, he gets one chance, that’s all.”
Lucy nodded her head against her husband’s chest, but the dark light of their small bedroom hid a smile that played across her lips. For such a gruff looking man, she knew that the big tough sheriff was a big softie.
~//~
Fisher ran his eyes over the town over the town. He wasn’t expecting trouble (this was Stonewall after all), but it never hurt to be vigil.
He had learned the hard way that it only takes one outside case to for you to get yourself or someone you love hurt (or in his case…dead). He had only been a kid when he had made an enemy, and he swore his own life against them. It was a day after the death of his best friend’s wife, and he had suddenly felt very attached to his, not wanting to let her out of his careful watch for more than a second.
~//~
The sun was going down on Fisher’s day off as he rode his dun-colored mount side-by-side with his wife, who was mounted on a tall, black quarter horse. A small glint of gold reflected off of each of their fingers as they rode on over the foot hill just outside of town.
They kept their horses at a slow walk as Fisher pointed out rocks and trees, each of which held a ghost or lost maiden story that had been passed down and altered.
As Fisher paused in his “educational” lecture, Jessica spoke up.
“It really is beautiful out here,” her voice lacked a natural southern accent, it was fast and curt like those of the north, but as soon as Fisher had gotten her into a saddle, her inner Southerner had broken out.
“Yeah, you really missed out growin’ up,” Fisher teased.
“One day,” Jessica told him, reaching over to playfully bat his arm. “I’ll get you up to the real mountains.”
Fisher smirked but said nothing.
Her long blonde hair ran down her back and flowed in the breeze.
“Fisher, I…” Jessica stated to speak, love lit up like flames in her eyes, but a loud bang cut her off.
“Fisher!” She cried urgently, but he held up a hand to silence her, as trained eyes scanned the area.
It didn’t take him long to discover the source of the shots.
Two men rode their mounts at full speed in the direction of the happy couple. They screamed and hollered as if they were enjoying the terror that they were causing.
“Jessica,” Fisher whispered, gathering his reins. “Stay stride for stride with me, understand?”
Jessica nodded her head in understanding and gathered her reins as well.
“Okay,” she answered.
“I love you,” he whispered, as he pushed his mount to a fast run and made sure that Jessica was keeping good pace next to her.
“I love you too,” Jessica shouted over the thundering of eight hooves beneath them.
He flashed her confidence in a grin, as he pushed his mount slightly faster; getting his horse to encourage Jessica’s black to speed up as well. Normally, he would have run after the two outlaws, but not when it was risking his wife’s life.
Hazarding a look behind him, Fisher saw the two men gaining on them. Their horses were maintaining a speed that he didn’t even know possible. He looked back at Jessica. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of fear in his heart for her.
Turning his attention back to the ever nearing riders, he caught them just in time to see the one riding nearest to them raise his revolver and fire twice.
After that, everything slowed down. Fisher imagined he could see the bullets racing towards the two of them. He envisioned the air curving around their aerodynamic shapes, racing at them like angry wasps. He felt a searing pain run through his shoulder and second later the hard ground beneath him, as his spooked horse rode away from beneath him.
Five more seconds passed before the shrill cries of a woman assaulted his ears and caused more pain than a thousand bullets tearing into his flesh could have caused. He picked his head up off the ground to see the two riders retreating.
‘Darned cowards,’ he spat, as he turned his head to the direction of the screams, not sure if he really wanted to know who had caused them. But, it really could have only been one person.
And, just like that every waking nightmare was made true as his eyes fell on the motionless form of his wife. The back of her riding dress was stained red with blood and the long strands of hair were beginning to stick to the growing patch.
“Jessica!” Fisher cried.
She moved ever so slightly, and Fisher was immediately on his feet. Ignoring the pain that shot bolts of lightning through his whole upper torso. He fell to his knees beside her, gathering her limp form into his good arm, while his other lay useless and turned the wrong way at his side.
“Jessica, Sweetheart,” he prompted her, as he felt her struggled breaths against him. “Open your eyes for me. Talk to me, please, Sweetheart!”
He fought letting his voice break into sobs, as the most amazing woman opened her eyes and smiled at him lovingly, even as blood leaked from her lips.
“Don’t leave me,” Fisher begged.
“I don’t think I get to make that decision,” Jessica whispered.
“I need you,” Fisher told her honestly, as tear falling from his face and mixing with Jessica’s on her face.
“I know.”
“What am I gonna do without you?” Fisher asked.
“Be happy, be jovial,” she told him, letting her eyes close and drawing one last breath. “Be my Fisher.”
Author of Chapter: country_who
Rating: PG
Word Count: 13,161(more than a third of our goal!)
Summary: When had his life been reduced to this?
Prologue by abigbluebox| Chapter 1 by country_who| Chapter 2 by abigbluebox| Chapter 3 by country_who|
Chapter 4 abigbluebox and country_who
Chapter 5: Shattered Memories and Hearts Still Broken
The thick smell of cigar smoke filled the sheriff’s office. Even the air seemed to have a slight white haze as the sheriff attempted to blow another smoke-ring. His hair was slicked back neatly and his graying beard grew as stubble around his chin. His blue eyes gazed over the top of his cigar, as he shook his head in disgust with himself, as he crushed it out and thought about throwing it across the room, but instead, he shoved it back in its box and got to his feet.
He took his hat off of its rung and placed it on his head with a frustrated energy that was less than necessary. The khaki cloth of his uniform seemed too clean for the dusty floor of this office. He would have to sweep around here.
Across the room, he reached for the broom and began to meticulously brush the dust into a pile. He brushed it out of the door in a cloud of dirt, settling and disappearing among its’ fellow kind on the ground.
As he placed the broom back against the wall, it slipped and fell against his desk. The force of the blow caused a single picture frame to tumble to the floor and shatter. The shining sliver frame still glittered in the sunlight streaming through the open window, but so did the jagged glass spread out in every direction.
Knots twisted themselves in his throat as he knelt down and picked up the ruined frame. Turning it over, he slid the picture out from the toothed edges of the frame and held it in shaking hands. Raven black hair and emerald green eyes stared back at him. A bright smile of perfect teeth stretched across the young woman’s face. Her hair was half gathered up in the back and the other half falling over her shoulders and down her back. It gave her a look of unrefined elegance that could not be matched.
‘Why not me?’ was the only question that old sheriff could think of. He had risked his life to save the people of this town, but he had failed to save his wife and daughter. He would never know what Lucy had seen in him all those years ago, but, as self doubt circled his mind, he was sure that she would have regretted it.
He suddenly felt the presence of another person behind him. He took a deep breath and got to his feet. Without turning around and keeping his eyes on the photo the sheriff spoke.
“What are you doin’ here Fisher?” the Sheriff’s voice was gruff and stoic, but Fisher had known him long enough to know that when Chris’s voice was unreadable, was when he was hurting the most.
Fisher stepped closer, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“I heard a crash,” Fisher told him. “I thought somethin’ mighta gone wrong.”
Chris nodded his head, and turned around to face the deputy.
“Yeah, something did,” the sheriff told him. “Twenty years ago.”
“Chris, I know you’re hurting, but…” Fisher started.
“I know,” the Sheriff cut him off. “It was twenty years ago and I should have forgotten.”
Fisher shook his head.
“No, I was gonna say, ‘But, what would Lucy want?’” Fisher held the sheriff’s gaze and didn’t allow him to look away. “She was so full of life, Chris, and you know she would hate to see you like this.”
“Shut up,” the sheriff muttered. “How would you know?”
Chris immediately regretted what he had said as a flash of sadness crossed over the aging deputy’s face (if he had been another person, Chris was sure he would have taken his sheriff position in a heartbeat, but Fisher was too loyal for that, and how had Chris just repaid him?).
Fisher observed his boss for a while longer before he nodded and turned to walk away.
“Fish,” the Sheriff called after him, using his nickname from years back. “I know you’re right, and I know that you’re the last person I should accuse of not understanding, what with…you know, I’m sorry.”
Fisher ran a hand through his ruddy red hair and shook his head.
“Me understandin’ makes me know exactly why you said it,” Fisher replied, his pale eyes locking on, once again, to Chris’s.
Without another word, the soft-spoken deputy left. The sheriff watched him go, his step swaggering from years mounted in the saddle. Chris couldn’t help but think back to the days when he was still a fresh-faced kid just trying to make his way.
The sheriff hadn’t wanted to give the kid the time of day at first, after his first deputy had left for the big city, abandoning the town of his birth. But, ironically it was Lucy that had convinced him to keep training the young’un and teach him the ropes.
~//~
Chris stepped into his house in a huff one late night as he dropped his hat onto a simple wooden peg and stepped out of the threshold and turned down a simple wooden wing that he had built himself and into Lucy and his bedroom.
She was sitting up, waiting for him. A candle burned next to her as she wrote inside a little notebook with her fountain pen. She almost never shared what she wrote with him, but sometimes he would catch little glimpses of her drawings or a small excerpt of a piece of her poetry. No one would have been able to tell that she grew up in the hard times of the “Great” Depression just like he and some many others had.
As his approaching footsteps alerted her ears, she looked up and shut her notebook. She gave him a small grin and slid to the side of the bed, motioning for him to sit next to her.
He complied joining her.
“How was your day?” She asked softly.
“All right,” Chris told her.
She gave him a soft giggle that was sweeter than any music.
“Liar,” Lucy whispered, as she leaned against his broad chest.
“Fine, Deputy Tomas left us for a big city somewhere,” Chris told her.
Lucy frowned and murmured her sympathy.
“Now, that feller Fisher is movin’ up to the deputy position, and he’s only been in the law for less than six months,” he grumbled to his wife, as he slid an inch closer and closed some distance between them.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Lucy told him confidently.
“He’s too young,” was Chris’s stubborn reply.
“I do recall that there was another too-young-feller in the law business, and he might have ended up bein’ a pretty good sheriff,” she whispered, sleep threatening to take her over as she curled herself more closely to him.
“Fine,” Chris whispered, as he blew out the candle and sank deeper into the warmth of the cotton sheets. “But, he gets one chance, that’s all.”
Lucy nodded her head against her husband’s chest, but the dark light of their small bedroom hid a smile that played across her lips. For such a gruff looking man, she knew that the big tough sheriff was a big softie.
~//~
Fisher ran his eyes over the town over the town. He wasn’t expecting trouble (this was Stonewall after all), but it never hurt to be vigil.
He had learned the hard way that it only takes one outside case to for you to get yourself or someone you love hurt (or in his case…dead). He had only been a kid when he had made an enemy, and he swore his own life against them. It was a day after the death of his best friend’s wife, and he had suddenly felt very attached to his, not wanting to let her out of his careful watch for more than a second.
~//~
The sun was going down on Fisher’s day off as he rode his dun-colored mount side-by-side with his wife, who was mounted on a tall, black quarter horse. A small glint of gold reflected off of each of their fingers as they rode on over the foot hill just outside of town.
They kept their horses at a slow walk as Fisher pointed out rocks and trees, each of which held a ghost or lost maiden story that had been passed down and altered.
As Fisher paused in his “educational” lecture, Jessica spoke up.
“It really is beautiful out here,” her voice lacked a natural southern accent, it was fast and curt like those of the north, but as soon as Fisher had gotten her into a saddle, her inner Southerner had broken out.
“Yeah, you really missed out growin’ up,” Fisher teased.
“One day,” Jessica told him, reaching over to playfully bat his arm. “I’ll get you up to the real mountains.”
Fisher smirked but said nothing.
Her long blonde hair ran down her back and flowed in the breeze.
“Fisher, I…” Jessica stated to speak, love lit up like flames in her eyes, but a loud bang cut her off.
“Fisher!” She cried urgently, but he held up a hand to silence her, as trained eyes scanned the area.
It didn’t take him long to discover the source of the shots.
Two men rode their mounts at full speed in the direction of the happy couple. They screamed and hollered as if they were enjoying the terror that they were causing.
“Jessica,” Fisher whispered, gathering his reins. “Stay stride for stride with me, understand?”
Jessica nodded her head in understanding and gathered her reins as well.
“Okay,” she answered.
“I love you,” he whispered, as he pushed his mount to a fast run and made sure that Jessica was keeping good pace next to her.
“I love you too,” Jessica shouted over the thundering of eight hooves beneath them.
He flashed her confidence in a grin, as he pushed his mount slightly faster; getting his horse to encourage Jessica’s black to speed up as well. Normally, he would have run after the two outlaws, but not when it was risking his wife’s life.
Hazarding a look behind him, Fisher saw the two men gaining on them. Their horses were maintaining a speed that he didn’t even know possible. He looked back at Jessica. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of fear in his heart for her.
Turning his attention back to the ever nearing riders, he caught them just in time to see the one riding nearest to them raise his revolver and fire twice.
After that, everything slowed down. Fisher imagined he could see the bullets racing towards the two of them. He envisioned the air curving around their aerodynamic shapes, racing at them like angry wasps. He felt a searing pain run through his shoulder and second later the hard ground beneath him, as his spooked horse rode away from beneath him.
Five more seconds passed before the shrill cries of a woman assaulted his ears and caused more pain than a thousand bullets tearing into his flesh could have caused. He picked his head up off the ground to see the two riders retreating.
‘Darned cowards,’ he spat, as he turned his head to the direction of the screams, not sure if he really wanted to know who had caused them. But, it really could have only been one person.
And, just like that every waking nightmare was made true as his eyes fell on the motionless form of his wife. The back of her riding dress was stained red with blood and the long strands of hair were beginning to stick to the growing patch.
“Jessica!” Fisher cried.
She moved ever so slightly, and Fisher was immediately on his feet. Ignoring the pain that shot bolts of lightning through his whole upper torso. He fell to his knees beside her, gathering her limp form into his good arm, while his other lay useless and turned the wrong way at his side.
“Jessica, Sweetheart,” he prompted her, as he felt her struggled breaths against him. “Open your eyes for me. Talk to me, please, Sweetheart!”
He fought letting his voice break into sobs, as the most amazing woman opened her eyes and smiled at him lovingly, even as blood leaked from her lips.
“Don’t leave me,” Fisher begged.
“I don’t think I get to make that decision,” Jessica whispered.
“I need you,” Fisher told her honestly, as tear falling from his face and mixing with Jessica’s on her face.
“I know.”
“What am I gonna do without you?” Fisher asked.
“Be happy, be jovial,” she told him, letting her eyes close and drawing one last breath. “Be my Fisher.”