OOM: Back in Milliways [Room 25, Stables, et al.]
She had been given a lot to think about, following her first night back in the bar.
Of course, she had also drank enough whiskey and vodka to kill a small horse, so thinking wasn't so much on the menu as was stumbling up the stairs and getting some sleep that first night. But she was in a mood, nonetheless.
She had one of the notes Doc had left for her in her hand as she slowly scaled the stairs, ending up outside his door. She used a spare key to unlock it, and stepped inside.
(It smelled like him.)
She stepped to the light on his desk and flipped it on, taking a moment to look around.
His room was neat and organized, left in pretty much the same shape as she had last seen it. His books were all in the bookcase-Poe, Shakespeare, Frost and Whitman, his guides on equine care and the histories: New Mexico, Medieval England, Robin Hood and 'The Life and Times of Billy the Kid'; Gray's Anatomy; how-to books on origami, reading music, and construction; biographies and paperbacks; a copy of 'High Flight', and a copy of 'Of Mice and Men'-nothing scattered around. There was a stack of papers on his desk that she took a moment to peruse: a few maps of Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado. There were annotations on the one for Colorado, and it made her pause and recall to mind the young man she'd met when she was fifteen, and those dreams he'd had of a patch of land with cattle and horses, and groves of peach trees.
She turned towards the windows and slowly made her way to the four small seedlings on the windowsill, eying the young sprouts carefully. They were just babies, about six inches tall, but she still swore she could smell the soft scent of peaches. She closed her eyes, and breathed it in.
She moved to the bathroom after a moment, flicking on the light. Her fingers absently circled the rim of the empty glass Doc kept on the sink, bringing back memories of the last time she had been in this room. The thoughts made her uncomfortable, and so she pushed them away, picking up the cup and filling it with water. She took it back out into the main room, and watered the seedlings. She left the glass sitting next to the pots on the windowsill when she was finished, and turned her attention back out on the room.
His black and tan dusters were on the coat rack by the door, along with his Sherwood cloak. She wondered if it was cold in Bill's world. She shuffled across the dark, hardwood floors to the footlocker at the foot of his bed, where his Colt lay within, next to that cloth-wrapped sword she'd never touched. She blinked in surprise to see it, along with that Bowie knife she'd never seen him without. She wondered if it was dangerous in Bill's world, being without his gun.
(After all, the sheriff himself had been shot, and badly wounded, even while he was carrying his.)
She closed the chest and looked up. The bed was made, blue and gray striped wool blanket tucked in and smoothed straight. Pillows at the head. She was tired, but the thought of lying in that bed made her stomach twist.
(Everything about this room made her stomach twist.)
That orange crane was still sitting on his desk, and she stared at it for a long moment.
'Reckon I should set that one free, come dawn.'
I can't stay here.
Even through the exhaustion and the haze of alcohol in her brain, she knew she just couldn't do it. It was too big, and too small, and too empty, and too full with memories she wasn't ready to face. There wasn't enough air. It smelled like him.
She carefully picked her way back out of the room and locked the door behind her. She would need to talk to Miss Bar about getting a permanent room for herself, but not tonight. Tonight, she simply wanted to make it back to the Bar and up the stairs again without falling on her ass, and get some sleep wherever her new key would lead her.
Tomorrow, she'll think.
_____________________________
It was afternoon before she came back down the stairs again. She was nursing one hell of a headache, so she made a beeline for the Bar and ordered a coffee, which was given to her in a tall Styrofoam cup.
She left the noisy bar immediately, heading for the fresher air outside the back door. It was warm enough that she didn't have to worry about a jacket, and she took the time to savor the gentle breeze and warm sun, fighting off the vestiges of nausea clinging to the back of her throat. Once under control, she made the slow trek down the path to the stables.
Here, too, things were as they had been when last she saw them.
(But she knew Doc could be particular like that.)
A few of the horses reached their long necks out from their stalls in greeting, as one might expect to see a child reaching out for a trusted hand. Kate responded in kind, taking the time to walk up to each horse and greet them with a softly-spoken term of endearment.
"Hey, sweetheart."
"Sugar, how are you?"
"Missed you too, old man."
Out here, she felt free. She could be herself-whoever the hell that happened to be, these days. No pretenses, no stories, no easy smiles or reined in pain. Just a woman.
Free.
She glanced in Corella's stall, clucking her tongue at the sight.
"Still haven't had your young'n?"
The horse responded with an agitated nicker.
Kate spent quite a while fussing over the pregnant mare, trying to assess how far along she was without getting on the horse's very last nerve. She made sure she had plenty of oats and water, checked to be sure her hay was clean and dry, and the stall was warm. She didn't let her out to one of the corrals, because she couldn't predict what the horse would do. But, when all was said and done, she knew enough by simple signs and the way Corella responded to things, that she was due any day now.
She walked to the desk at the end of the room, stole a piece of scrap paper and a pencil, and scribbled out a note that she then tacked to the message board directly above.
operation are you running here? Corella
is about to pop, and you're out playing
world traveler.
Get your tail back here!
She made sure the stall next to Corella's was clean and dry as well, since that's where she was going to be spending the next few nights, until either Doc got back or Corella had her foal one.
She'd worry about a real room later.
.
Of course, she had also drank enough whiskey and vodka to kill a small horse, so thinking wasn't so much on the menu as was stumbling up the stairs and getting some sleep that first night. But she was in a mood, nonetheless.
She had one of the notes Doc had left for her in her hand as she slowly scaled the stairs, ending up outside his door. She used a spare key to unlock it, and stepped inside.
(It smelled like him.)
She stepped to the light on his desk and flipped it on, taking a moment to look around.
His room was neat and organized, left in pretty much the same shape as she had last seen it. His books were all in the bookcase-Poe, Shakespeare, Frost and Whitman, his guides on equine care and the histories: New Mexico, Medieval England, Robin Hood and 'The Life and Times of Billy the Kid'; Gray's Anatomy; how-to books on origami, reading music, and construction; biographies and paperbacks; a copy of 'High Flight', and a copy of 'Of Mice and Men'-nothing scattered around. There was a stack of papers on his desk that she took a moment to peruse: a few maps of Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado. There were annotations on the one for Colorado, and it made her pause and recall to mind the young man she'd met when she was fifteen, and those dreams he'd had of a patch of land with cattle and horses, and groves of peach trees.
She turned towards the windows and slowly made her way to the four small seedlings on the windowsill, eying the young sprouts carefully. They were just babies, about six inches tall, but she still swore she could smell the soft scent of peaches. She closed her eyes, and breathed it in.
She moved to the bathroom after a moment, flicking on the light. Her fingers absently circled the rim of the empty glass Doc kept on the sink, bringing back memories of the last time she had been in this room. The thoughts made her uncomfortable, and so she pushed them away, picking up the cup and filling it with water. She took it back out into the main room, and watered the seedlings. She left the glass sitting next to the pots on the windowsill when she was finished, and turned her attention back out on the room.
His black and tan dusters were on the coat rack by the door, along with his Sherwood cloak. She wondered if it was cold in Bill's world. She shuffled across the dark, hardwood floors to the footlocker at the foot of his bed, where his Colt lay within, next to that cloth-wrapped sword she'd never touched. She blinked in surprise to see it, along with that Bowie knife she'd never seen him without. She wondered if it was dangerous in Bill's world, being without his gun.
(After all, the sheriff himself had been shot, and badly wounded, even while he was carrying his.)
She closed the chest and looked up. The bed was made, blue and gray striped wool blanket tucked in and smoothed straight. Pillows at the head. She was tired, but the thought of lying in that bed made her stomach twist.
(Everything about this room made her stomach twist.)
That orange crane was still sitting on his desk, and she stared at it for a long moment.
'Reckon I should set that one free, come dawn.'
I can't stay here.
Even through the exhaustion and the haze of alcohol in her brain, she knew she just couldn't do it. It was too big, and too small, and too empty, and too full with memories she wasn't ready to face. There wasn't enough air. It smelled like him.
She carefully picked her way back out of the room and locked the door behind her. She would need to talk to Miss Bar about getting a permanent room for herself, but not tonight. Tonight, she simply wanted to make it back to the Bar and up the stairs again without falling on her ass, and get some sleep wherever her new key would lead her.
Tomorrow, she'll think.
_____________________________
It was afternoon before she came back down the stairs again. She was nursing one hell of a headache, so she made a beeline for the Bar and ordered a coffee, which was given to her in a tall Styrofoam cup.
She left the noisy bar immediately, heading for the fresher air outside the back door. It was warm enough that she didn't have to worry about a jacket, and she took the time to savor the gentle breeze and warm sun, fighting off the vestiges of nausea clinging to the back of her throat. Once under control, she made the slow trek down the path to the stables.
Here, too, things were as they had been when last she saw them.
(But she knew Doc could be particular like that.)
A few of the horses reached their long necks out from their stalls in greeting, as one might expect to see a child reaching out for a trusted hand. Kate responded in kind, taking the time to walk up to each horse and greet them with a softly-spoken term of endearment.
"Hey, sweetheart."
"Sugar, how are you?"
"Missed you too, old man."
Out here, she felt free. She could be herself-whoever the hell that happened to be, these days. No pretenses, no stories, no easy smiles or reined in pain. Just a woman.
Free.
She glanced in Corella's stall, clucking her tongue at the sight.
"Still haven't had your young'n?"
The horse responded with an agitated nicker.
Kate spent quite a while fussing over the pregnant mare, trying to assess how far along she was without getting on the horse's very last nerve. She made sure she had plenty of oats and water, checked to be sure her hay was clean and dry, and the stall was warm. She didn't let her out to one of the corrals, because she couldn't predict what the horse would do. But, when all was said and done, she knew enough by simple signs and the way Corella responded to things, that she was due any day now.
She walked to the desk at the end of the room, stole a piece of scrap paper and a pencil, and scribbled out a note that she then tacked to the message board directly above.
- Doc,
operation are you running here? Corella
is about to pop, and you're out playing
world traveler.
Get your tail back here!
She made sure the stall next to Corella's was clean and dry as well, since that's where she was going to be spending the next few nights, until either Doc got back or Corella had her foal one.
She'd worry about a real room later.
.