fic: hold fast to the break of day
Title: hold fast to the break of day
Fandom: Young Guns / Holes
Characters: Josiah 'Doc' Scurlock, Katherine Barlow, Samuel Barlow
Pairings: Hints of Doc/Kate but not much.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, character death.
Summary/Notes: This is based on Milliways!canon and some current RP in the works. It's a speculative piece, with the basic scenario as this: Doc's gone to Green Lake in his time (which is a handful of years prior to where Katherine is - 1881 compared to roughly 1887/1890) and managed to get himself hired on as a hand to work the ranch that her father owns. He's also using an alias at this point. Title/cut borrowed from 'The Shadow Proves The Sunshine' by Switchfoot. 2046 words.
He'd been working as a hand on the ranch for nearly four years. Not nearly as long as most of the other hands had been around, but once he'd decided - and once Samuel Barlow had offered to keep him on after that first fall harvest in '81 - he stayed. It took awhile to settle into his place on the ranch (he was still the new guy, until Barlow picked up another hand just about a year later) and for some time he'd wondered if maybe he was screwing up his chances with Katherine, but he didn't think on it too hard.
She was here, and so was her father. It was honest work, and after awhile he felt like he was part of something again, and it didn't have to be a gang to feel like family. No vigilante justice, no hard nights on the trail, no bounty hunters sniffing after them day in and day out.
Josiah Scurlock faded.
Jay Gordon flourished.
Katherine went away to school in the fall - Tulane University. It was in part, due to his suggestion of the school and his knowledge of the surrounding area. Given that he'd 'grown up' nearby, he could tell her all about the city of New Orleans, the people, the land. She'd like it there, and like the city, even if it meant leaving behind her family, her horse and that open Texas sky.
(They still didn't know he'd been to medical school, though he did help patch up minor injuries from time to time, at least until someone could ride into town and fetch Doc Hawthorn to come out to the farm.)
All the men could tell that Mr. Barlow missed his daughter, especially a few weeks into that first semester she was gone.
There were moments when the older man would get quiet, eyes a little soft and tired, gaze distant when he'd be out riding across the fields. Moments where he'd go to call for Katherine around the house but stop himself, realizing that she wasn't there.
And there were moments when Samuel would smile, grinning bigger than the Cheshire cat. Usually those moments came after he or one of the boys had gone into town to pick up any post for the lot of them, and there would be letters waiting, postmarked New Orleans. She wrote often to her father, but always sent her regards to his hired hands as well. They were all family.
He missed her like hell.
Proof enough of that was the way the two of them had hugged when she stepped off the stage that afternoon in Green Lake. He'd picked her up and spun her around, laughing as she laughed right along with him, glad to be home for the short winter break. They'd brought the wagon, much to her protests - but even time away couldn't change her into a lady, despite those skirts she was wearing.
It was therefore no surprise, to any of them, that when they arrived home she immediately marched into the house, changed into riding clothes, and spent the rest of the afternoon out somewhere with that horse of hers, not coming back until dusk. Her hair was windblown, wild and free off her shoulders. Her father didn't say a word, then, just hugged her close and kissed her temple, before they headed into the main house for dinner.
(He didn't even insist she change into her skirts again, that night.)
While she'd been gone away at university, her father had been busy. Not just with the farm, and the operations that the rest of the townsfolk knew about, but the matter of getting some of the 'hired hands' that Crocker owned out of the county and safely on their way to freedom. Jay hadn't been privy to the matter at first, but eventually he'd been brought in, once Barlow knew that he could be trusted.
And, he was damn good with that Colt six of his, after all.
The morning that broke, mid-January was quiet and calm. For Texas, it wasn't really all that hot out just yet, and the morning chores included the assignment that he and the boss were going to check the fences and take a look around the property to ensure everything was in working condition.
A trip around the fence-line was familiar, after all the years he'd spent working, and he settled in comfortable in the saddle as they started on the route. Most everything was in order (thankfully) but as they neared the far northeast field (they always had trouble here, and it wasn't any secret why) he just knew.
Today.
It was always the same damn section of fence.
Jay glanced out over the brush to the cotton fields a distance - the Crocker property - then he kept his head down as they neared a busted section where the wire had broken. It sure as hell looked cut, to him, and curled back on itself. They'd have to dismount and spend some time fixing it. At least an hour, if not a little more.
Samuel Barlow climbed down off his horse and tied the grey to the nearest post, then glanced over at Jay. "You feelin' alright, son?"
He nodded, slightly. "Just a bit warm, today."
Cortez got tied up next to Dusty, paint and gray beside each other, and both men walked towards the broken fence. Jay's heart felt sick, tight in his throat, and his palms were coated with sweat inside the leather gloves he was wearing.
"Ain't all that bad."
"No, sir."
Samuel turned to look at him, concerned about the way his young hand was acting so quiet. Maybe it was heatstroke, or he'd just caught something...
Jay turned to look at the thinly wooded area a short distance away, and he listened.
Click.
The shot rang out, sharp and clear above the busy sound of insects buzzing in the tall grass, Both men hit the dirt next to that fence-line with a dull thud as their bodies hit the hard Texas earth.
Samuel swore, loudly, then glanced at the younger man who'd barreled into him, taking him off his feet. "Jay, the hell was that for..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the way his farmhand was curled slightly on his side, arm wrapped around his chest.
"Sir," he reached for his gun at his hip and handed it to his boss. "Y'better scare off the lot of 'em 'fore they try 'gain," he replied, voice tense and tight.
The rifle was too far, tied back up on his horse. It made sense to use whatever gun he had.
'Before they try again...'
Her father grabbed hold of the Colt and fired off two quick shots - warning shots, that would bring his boys out as fast as they could ride - before he fired blindly at the treeline. He heard the familiar voices of the Crocker boys shouting at each other, and running off. They made a hell of a racket as they tracked the hell out of the stand of trees, and he waited until it was quiet and he was sure they were gone.
"Goddamn fools, I told them not to hunt on my..." He glanced back at Jay, who had shifted against the dirt, and curled up a bit more onto his side. "Son?"
"M'alright."
"No, you're not all right," Samuel retorted, as he moved the distance across the brush and placed a hand on the younger man's upper arm. Carefully, he pushed him over onto his back.
The dirt underneath was wet, soaked and dark, and the stain spread onto the front of Jay's shirt, mixing red with the dust and the blood. "Son, you listen to me and you listen good, just keep awake, you understand? I don't want you goin' to sleep."
Jay nodded weakly.
"No goin' to sleep, that's an order," her father continued, as he quickly reached up, yanked the scarf off of his neck and balled the silk fabric up, then pressed it against the wound.
That hurt, and Jay cringed and gritted his teeth together to keep from screaming. It all hurt so damn bad he couldn't think straight, but his thoughts were gone, save for pain and the vague realizations running through his mind. He was bleedin' bad and the other boys would be here soon.
(Deep down, he knew it wasn't going to be soon enough. Someone would have to ride to fetch Doc Hawthorn, and that would take a few hours, at least, even going hellbent for leather both ways. And there was no way he could find a door, when he was like this.)
This is it.
"M'alright," he muttered. "Jus'tired, s'all."
"Jay, don't you go to sleep on me, c'mon now." Samuel kept pressure against the younger man's chest. "Dammit, why did you..."
"Boss," Jay pushed himself up slightly, trying to sit up. "I...I owed you. An' I been shot, before. This...this...this one's good." He struggled to pull in a breath, lungs already heavy and tired. "Real good. S'probably clean through..."
The older man reached over to grab for the bullets on the boy's gun-belt, and Jay only barely registered the feeling of the cartridges being pushed out of the loops. The sky felt heavy, like lead pressing against his chest.
He closed his eyes.
Two more shots rang out in the air, reports echoing quickly against the thudding in his ears, as the thick smoke filtered down around them.
"Clean through my...lung...bleedin' this bad...nicked somethin' else..." He cringed again and then dropped back down against the earth, coughed hard, blood pooling in his throat. He couldn't breathe.
Samuel shook his head. "Boys'll be here soon, Jay, c'mere," he reached for him and pulled him up to sit, ignoring the blood that soaked into his shirt when the kid - he was just a boy, didn't matter that he was nearly thirty, and he felt so damn skinny with his arms around his torso - coughed up a lungful of blood and spit.
"I ain't...I ain't foolin' myself," he wheezed, and his face twisted into a wry smirk. "Jus'...you gotta tell me somethin', sir."
"You're gonna be all right--"
"No I ain't, Boss." He coughed again and the world spun, vision going black and red spots behind his eyes. The ground felt like it was trembling underneath him - little did he know, he was shaking like a leaf in the older man's arms. "Please."
The two men sat quietly a heartbeat or two, before Samuel nodded, eyes focused on Jay's too-pale face. "What is it?"
"You...y'think I would've been good 'nough for your daughter, someday?" Jay asked, and it took every ounce of effort to open his eyes to look at his employer when he said the words. Grey-green eyes locked onto dark blue ones, and even through the blur in his vision he could see clear enough to notice the wan smile on the man's features, the hint of light in the older man's eyes.
Samuel stayed quiet a minute, before he nodded. "Yeah, Jay. I do think that."
Jay swallowed, hard, ignoring the taste of iron and salt in his mouth. He nodded, a few times, before the world spun around him against and he tipped back slightly, against the arms that held him upright. All he wanted to do was lie down...but that would mean he'd fall asleep. "Then m'alright, sir. S'all I," he coughed again, lungs burning. "M'alright."
"You're all right, son."
"M'alright." It was muttered, weakly, as he leaned forward and felt an arm wrap around his back. He rested his forehead against Samuel's shoulder. (The world didn't spin as much, like this, even as his ears rang with an odd tone and his words wouldn't come to his tongue quite right.) "Tell...I...her, I love..."
"'Course."
Jay nodded, slightly, then pressed closer. The air felt fuzzy around his ears. He shuddered and the motion caused his free arm to fall slack, resting against his side, fingertips grabbing for hold in the red earth. Everything felt slippery. "M'alright, sir," he whispered.
He closed his eyes.
Samuel stayed absolutely silent until he felt the shaking stop, long after the chest he had his arms wrapped around stopped expanding, lungs no longer pulling in air. Even with the uncomfortable tinge in his back given the awkward angle and the weight of the body - Jay - against his side he didn't move, and he wouldn't until half of his ranch hands showed up on horseback a few minutes later.
He was just a boy, dammit.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head, and his hand stayed steady against the boy's back.
"You're all right, son."
Fandom: Young Guns / Holes
Characters: Josiah 'Doc' Scurlock, Katherine Barlow, Samuel Barlow
Pairings: Hints of Doc/Kate but not much.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, character death.
Summary/Notes: This is based on Milliways!canon and some current RP in the works. It's a speculative piece, with the basic scenario as this: Doc's gone to Green Lake in his time (which is a handful of years prior to where Katherine is - 1881 compared to roughly 1887/1890) and managed to get himself hired on as a hand to work the ranch that her father owns. He's also using an alias at this point. Title/cut borrowed from 'The Shadow Proves The Sunshine' by Switchfoot. 2046 words.
He'd been working as a hand on the ranch for nearly four years. Not nearly as long as most of the other hands had been around, but once he'd decided - and once Samuel Barlow had offered to keep him on after that first fall harvest in '81 - he stayed. It took awhile to settle into his place on the ranch (he was still the new guy, until Barlow picked up another hand just about a year later) and for some time he'd wondered if maybe he was screwing up his chances with Katherine, but he didn't think on it too hard.
She was here, and so was her father. It was honest work, and after awhile he felt like he was part of something again, and it didn't have to be a gang to feel like family. No vigilante justice, no hard nights on the trail, no bounty hunters sniffing after them day in and day out.
Josiah Scurlock faded.
Jay Gordon flourished.
Katherine went away to school in the fall - Tulane University. It was in part, due to his suggestion of the school and his knowledge of the surrounding area. Given that he'd 'grown up' nearby, he could tell her all about the city of New Orleans, the people, the land. She'd like it there, and like the city, even if it meant leaving behind her family, her horse and that open Texas sky.
(They still didn't know he'd been to medical school, though he did help patch up minor injuries from time to time, at least until someone could ride into town and fetch Doc Hawthorn to come out to the farm.)
All the men could tell that Mr. Barlow missed his daughter, especially a few weeks into that first semester she was gone.
There were moments when the older man would get quiet, eyes a little soft and tired, gaze distant when he'd be out riding across the fields. Moments where he'd go to call for Katherine around the house but stop himself, realizing that she wasn't there.
And there were moments when Samuel would smile, grinning bigger than the Cheshire cat. Usually those moments came after he or one of the boys had gone into town to pick up any post for the lot of them, and there would be letters waiting, postmarked New Orleans. She wrote often to her father, but always sent her regards to his hired hands as well. They were all family.
He missed her like hell.
Proof enough of that was the way the two of them had hugged when she stepped off the stage that afternoon in Green Lake. He'd picked her up and spun her around, laughing as she laughed right along with him, glad to be home for the short winter break. They'd brought the wagon, much to her protests - but even time away couldn't change her into a lady, despite those skirts she was wearing.
It was therefore no surprise, to any of them, that when they arrived home she immediately marched into the house, changed into riding clothes, and spent the rest of the afternoon out somewhere with that horse of hers, not coming back until dusk. Her hair was windblown, wild and free off her shoulders. Her father didn't say a word, then, just hugged her close and kissed her temple, before they headed into the main house for dinner.
(He didn't even insist she change into her skirts again, that night.)
While she'd been gone away at university, her father had been busy. Not just with the farm, and the operations that the rest of the townsfolk knew about, but the matter of getting some of the 'hired hands' that Crocker owned out of the county and safely on their way to freedom. Jay hadn't been privy to the matter at first, but eventually he'd been brought in, once Barlow knew that he could be trusted.
And, he was damn good with that Colt six of his, after all.
The morning that broke, mid-January was quiet and calm. For Texas, it wasn't really all that hot out just yet, and the morning chores included the assignment that he and the boss were going to check the fences and take a look around the property to ensure everything was in working condition.
A trip around the fence-line was familiar, after all the years he'd spent working, and he settled in comfortable in the saddle as they started on the route. Most everything was in order (thankfully) but as they neared the far northeast field (they always had trouble here, and it wasn't any secret why) he just knew.
Today.
It was always the same damn section of fence.
Jay glanced out over the brush to the cotton fields a distance - the Crocker property - then he kept his head down as they neared a busted section where the wire had broken. It sure as hell looked cut, to him, and curled back on itself. They'd have to dismount and spend some time fixing it. At least an hour, if not a little more.
Samuel Barlow climbed down off his horse and tied the grey to the nearest post, then glanced over at Jay. "You feelin' alright, son?"
He nodded, slightly. "Just a bit warm, today."
Cortez got tied up next to Dusty, paint and gray beside each other, and both men walked towards the broken fence. Jay's heart felt sick, tight in his throat, and his palms were coated with sweat inside the leather gloves he was wearing.
"Ain't all that bad."
"No, sir."
Samuel turned to look at him, concerned about the way his young hand was acting so quiet. Maybe it was heatstroke, or he'd just caught something...
Jay turned to look at the thinly wooded area a short distance away, and he listened.
Click.
The shot rang out, sharp and clear above the busy sound of insects buzzing in the tall grass, Both men hit the dirt next to that fence-line with a dull thud as their bodies hit the hard Texas earth.
Samuel swore, loudly, then glanced at the younger man who'd barreled into him, taking him off his feet. "Jay, the hell was that for..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the way his farmhand was curled slightly on his side, arm wrapped around his chest.
"Sir," he reached for his gun at his hip and handed it to his boss. "Y'better scare off the lot of 'em 'fore they try 'gain," he replied, voice tense and tight.
The rifle was too far, tied back up on his horse. It made sense to use whatever gun he had.
'Before they try again...'
Her father grabbed hold of the Colt and fired off two quick shots - warning shots, that would bring his boys out as fast as they could ride - before he fired blindly at the treeline. He heard the familiar voices of the Crocker boys shouting at each other, and running off. They made a hell of a racket as they tracked the hell out of the stand of trees, and he waited until it was quiet and he was sure they were gone.
"Goddamn fools, I told them not to hunt on my..." He glanced back at Jay, who had shifted against the dirt, and curled up a bit more onto his side. "Son?"
"M'alright."
"No, you're not all right," Samuel retorted, as he moved the distance across the brush and placed a hand on the younger man's upper arm. Carefully, he pushed him over onto his back.
The dirt underneath was wet, soaked and dark, and the stain spread onto the front of Jay's shirt, mixing red with the dust and the blood. "Son, you listen to me and you listen good, just keep awake, you understand? I don't want you goin' to sleep."
Jay nodded weakly.
"No goin' to sleep, that's an order," her father continued, as he quickly reached up, yanked the scarf off of his neck and balled the silk fabric up, then pressed it against the wound.
That hurt, and Jay cringed and gritted his teeth together to keep from screaming. It all hurt so damn bad he couldn't think straight, but his thoughts were gone, save for pain and the vague realizations running through his mind. He was bleedin' bad and the other boys would be here soon.
(Deep down, he knew it wasn't going to be soon enough. Someone would have to ride to fetch Doc Hawthorn, and that would take a few hours, at least, even going hellbent for leather both ways. And there was no way he could find a door, when he was like this.)
This is it.
"M'alright," he muttered. "Jus'tired, s'all."
"Jay, don't you go to sleep on me, c'mon now." Samuel kept pressure against the younger man's chest. "Dammit, why did you..."
"Boss," Jay pushed himself up slightly, trying to sit up. "I...I owed you. An' I been shot, before. This...this...this one's good." He struggled to pull in a breath, lungs already heavy and tired. "Real good. S'probably clean through..."
The older man reached over to grab for the bullets on the boy's gun-belt, and Jay only barely registered the feeling of the cartridges being pushed out of the loops. The sky felt heavy, like lead pressing against his chest.
He closed his eyes.
Two more shots rang out in the air, reports echoing quickly against the thudding in his ears, as the thick smoke filtered down around them.
"Clean through my...lung...bleedin' this bad...nicked somethin' else..." He cringed again and then dropped back down against the earth, coughed hard, blood pooling in his throat. He couldn't breathe.
Samuel shook his head. "Boys'll be here soon, Jay, c'mere," he reached for him and pulled him up to sit, ignoring the blood that soaked into his shirt when the kid - he was just a boy, didn't matter that he was nearly thirty, and he felt so damn skinny with his arms around his torso - coughed up a lungful of blood and spit.
"I ain't...I ain't foolin' myself," he wheezed, and his face twisted into a wry smirk. "Jus'...you gotta tell me somethin', sir."
"You're gonna be all right--"
"No I ain't, Boss." He coughed again and the world spun, vision going black and red spots behind his eyes. The ground felt like it was trembling underneath him - little did he know, he was shaking like a leaf in the older man's arms. "Please."
The two men sat quietly a heartbeat or two, before Samuel nodded, eyes focused on Jay's too-pale face. "What is it?"
"You...y'think I would've been good 'nough for your daughter, someday?" Jay asked, and it took every ounce of effort to open his eyes to look at his employer when he said the words. Grey-green eyes locked onto dark blue ones, and even through the blur in his vision he could see clear enough to notice the wan smile on the man's features, the hint of light in the older man's eyes.
Samuel stayed quiet a minute, before he nodded. "Yeah, Jay. I do think that."
Jay swallowed, hard, ignoring the taste of iron and salt in his mouth. He nodded, a few times, before the world spun around him against and he tipped back slightly, against the arms that held him upright. All he wanted to do was lie down...but that would mean he'd fall asleep. "Then m'alright, sir. S'all I," he coughed again, lungs burning. "M'alright."
"You're all right, son."
"M'alright." It was muttered, weakly, as he leaned forward and felt an arm wrap around his back. He rested his forehead against Samuel's shoulder. (The world didn't spin as much, like this, even as his ears rang with an odd tone and his words wouldn't come to his tongue quite right.) "Tell...I...her, I love..."
"'Course."
Jay nodded, slightly, then pressed closer. The air felt fuzzy around his ears. He shuddered and the motion caused his free arm to fall slack, resting against his side, fingertips grabbing for hold in the red earth. Everything felt slippery. "M'alright, sir," he whispered.
He closed his eyes.
Samuel stayed absolutely silent until he felt the shaking stop, long after the chest he had his arms wrapped around stopped expanding, lungs no longer pulling in air. Even with the uncomfortable tinge in his back given the awkward angle and the weight of the body - Jay - against his side he didn't move, and he wouldn't until half of his ranch hands showed up on horseback a few minutes later.
He was just a boy, dammit.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head, and his hand stayed steady against the boy's back.
"You're all right, son."