3:10 to Yuma: Temptation (Ben/Dan | T | 1,023w)
[ Ben/Dan | T | 1,023w | 2007-12-24 | Mirror ]
yuletide pinch hit. Dan Evans was tired. Smell was gone before you even had the time to breathe it in, elusive-promise of rain was always just over the horizon.
Temptation
Dan Evans was tired.
He was tired of shivering as he lay awake after Alice would toss and turn away from him as she was sleeping. She’d apologize quietly when she woke up, shift closer, put the covers carefully over him, place a hand on his chest. But her touch didn’t quite reach him, like the hint of storms on the wind in the middle of drought. Smell was gone before you even had the time to breathe it in, elusive-promise of rain was always just over the horizon.
He was tired of seeing a sun rise on worries that were heavier than when he lay down to rest.
He was tired of tired of dust stuck in the back of his throat, of soil that crumbled to nothing in his palms. It gritted between his teeth, coated his hair and skin and clothes, refused to give anything up when he worked it. Land wouldn’t support animals, much less people-all the game had left the area long ago. Only the scrawniest mice and scrub birds were left behind. The bigger and stronger knew better than to keep waiting around for the spring that wasn’t coming fast enough, if ever.
He was tired of pouring money and time and energy into the soil and getting nothing back but aches and false hopes.
He was tired of lying to his boys, skittering over talking about the war like a snake slithering into the shadows. The way William looked at him-it was like the boy knew, and his accusations had been coming on louder and meaner since the business with Hollander. But Mark was still young, staunchly refused to listen to the implied confession behind the refusals. He insisted that William was wrong, that his Pa was the strongest man in the world, that he’d get them out of this mess.
Dan Evans was tired down to his bones, lungs dried out from the howling winds, the back of his eyes pricking from watching the sun for hours on end and wishing it away.
But mostly, he was tired, so damned tired, of wanting to tell his youngest that he was liar. That he didn’t know if he could get them out of this mess, that his Pa wasn’t any kind of man, not any kind of hero.
*
Ben Wade was observant.
He tended to notice what wasn’t being said, things people thought that they could hide. He’d see it plain as God’s word in their faces. Faces couldn’t lie the way that mouths did, couldn’t make false promises they didn’t intend to keep.
Games like poker, men would pay more attention than usual, but most of the pathetic sons of bitches couldn’t even manage it for a few hours. Without fail, something would give themselves away-a twitch of the wrist, a narrowing at the corner of the eyes, a muscle bunching at the side of the neck-and it was usually just a matter of time and patience, waiting for the signal. Truth had a way of surfacing, especially when no one wanted it to. Every man Ben Wade had ever met wore his heart on his face, whether he knew it or not.
And Dan Evans was certainly no exception.
*
“You think about it, Dan. All the things you could do with that money.” Ben swung his legs up to hang over the side of the bed, cuffed wrists relaxed loosely between his knees. “Wouldn’t have to work near so hard as you been doing. Could get your boys a real education. Make ’em proud of you, again.”
“Ain’t about the money, Wade.” Dan gripped the gun tighter, jaw working, once, like he was holding back other things he wanted to say. He stared at the window with single-minded intensity.
“But money sure does make things easier, don’t it, Dan? All that back-breaking sweat, and what do you get for it?” Ben smiled. “Now, that wife of yours-fine lady, she is-but she can’t appreciate what it’s like for us. World ain’t half so kind to a man that’s been marked.”
“I ain’t like you,” Dan gritted out, nostrils flaring. “You deserve every mark you ever got.”
“Sure I do.” Ben rose, and Dan swung around on him, holding up the gun. “But,” Ben continued, his hands spread innocently as he stepped forward, wrists pulled out to the edges of the chain, “ain’t you ever wondered, Dan, what it would be like? To be free, like me? They ain’t found a prison yet that’ll hold me. I come and go as I please. No one judging me but myself. You can’t tell me you don’t want that.”
The tip of the gun rested on Ben’s chest.
“Sure as hell don’t want it,” Dan said, but his voice was losing strength, a train pulling into the station and quieting on the tracks.
“Sure as hell?” Ben slid his handcuffs down the length of the gun, metal whining softly on metal. “I’d say you’re already there, friend, and praying for a drop of water.” He leaned down, bringing his face near Dan’s, all half-smiles and half-dropped lids. “You seen the way your boy looks up to me, the way your wife couldn’t take her eyes off me. I could give you all that and more.”
Ben’s hands affixed to Dan’s wrists, thumbs drawing circles on the insides over the delicate skin, finding the racing pulse point. “All you have to do is say yes.”
“And what if I can’t?” Dan’s eyes were closed, and the gun was slipping out of his grip, the butt thudding on the floor.
“Well, then.” Ben closed the distance between them. “All you have to do, Dan, is not say no.”
Dan exhaled, a quiet shudder. “I reckon-I reckon I could do that.”
And as Ben straddled his lap, gun and even the train forgotten for the moment, Dan didn’t have to say anything else, because the truth was plain as day on his face, and the way he didn’t turn it away when Ben Wade leaned down and kissed him.
yuletide pinch hit. Dan Evans was tired. Smell was gone before you even had the time to breathe it in, elusive-promise of rain was always just over the horizon.
Temptation
Dan Evans was tired.
He was tired of shivering as he lay awake after Alice would toss and turn away from him as she was sleeping. She’d apologize quietly when she woke up, shift closer, put the covers carefully over him, place a hand on his chest. But her touch didn’t quite reach him, like the hint of storms on the wind in the middle of drought. Smell was gone before you even had the time to breathe it in, elusive-promise of rain was always just over the horizon.
He was tired of seeing a sun rise on worries that were heavier than when he lay down to rest.
He was tired of tired of dust stuck in the back of his throat, of soil that crumbled to nothing in his palms. It gritted between his teeth, coated his hair and skin and clothes, refused to give anything up when he worked it. Land wouldn’t support animals, much less people-all the game had left the area long ago. Only the scrawniest mice and scrub birds were left behind. The bigger and stronger knew better than to keep waiting around for the spring that wasn’t coming fast enough, if ever.
He was tired of pouring money and time and energy into the soil and getting nothing back but aches and false hopes.
He was tired of lying to his boys, skittering over talking about the war like a snake slithering into the shadows. The way William looked at him-it was like the boy knew, and his accusations had been coming on louder and meaner since the business with Hollander. But Mark was still young, staunchly refused to listen to the implied confession behind the refusals. He insisted that William was wrong, that his Pa was the strongest man in the world, that he’d get them out of this mess.
Dan Evans was tired down to his bones, lungs dried out from the howling winds, the back of his eyes pricking from watching the sun for hours on end and wishing it away.
But mostly, he was tired, so damned tired, of wanting to tell his youngest that he was liar. That he didn’t know if he could get them out of this mess, that his Pa wasn’t any kind of man, not any kind of hero.
*
Ben Wade was observant.
He tended to notice what wasn’t being said, things people thought that they could hide. He’d see it plain as God’s word in their faces. Faces couldn’t lie the way that mouths did, couldn’t make false promises they didn’t intend to keep.
Games like poker, men would pay more attention than usual, but most of the pathetic sons of bitches couldn’t even manage it for a few hours. Without fail, something would give themselves away-a twitch of the wrist, a narrowing at the corner of the eyes, a muscle bunching at the side of the neck-and it was usually just a matter of time and patience, waiting for the signal. Truth had a way of surfacing, especially when no one wanted it to. Every man Ben Wade had ever met wore his heart on his face, whether he knew it or not.
And Dan Evans was certainly no exception.
*
“You think about it, Dan. All the things you could do with that money.” Ben swung his legs up to hang over the side of the bed, cuffed wrists relaxed loosely between his knees. “Wouldn’t have to work near so hard as you been doing. Could get your boys a real education. Make ’em proud of you, again.”
“Ain’t about the money, Wade.” Dan gripped the gun tighter, jaw working, once, like he was holding back other things he wanted to say. He stared at the window with single-minded intensity.
“But money sure does make things easier, don’t it, Dan? All that back-breaking sweat, and what do you get for it?” Ben smiled. “Now, that wife of yours-fine lady, she is-but she can’t appreciate what it’s like for us. World ain’t half so kind to a man that’s been marked.”
“I ain’t like you,” Dan gritted out, nostrils flaring. “You deserve every mark you ever got.”
“Sure I do.” Ben rose, and Dan swung around on him, holding up the gun. “But,” Ben continued, his hands spread innocently as he stepped forward, wrists pulled out to the edges of the chain, “ain’t you ever wondered, Dan, what it would be like? To be free, like me? They ain’t found a prison yet that’ll hold me. I come and go as I please. No one judging me but myself. You can’t tell me you don’t want that.”
The tip of the gun rested on Ben’s chest.
“Sure as hell don’t want it,” Dan said, but his voice was losing strength, a train pulling into the station and quieting on the tracks.
“Sure as hell?” Ben slid his handcuffs down the length of the gun, metal whining softly on metal. “I’d say you’re already there, friend, and praying for a drop of water.” He leaned down, bringing his face near Dan’s, all half-smiles and half-dropped lids. “You seen the way your boy looks up to me, the way your wife couldn’t take her eyes off me. I could give you all that and more.”
Ben’s hands affixed to Dan’s wrists, thumbs drawing circles on the insides over the delicate skin, finding the racing pulse point. “All you have to do is say yes.”
“And what if I can’t?” Dan’s eyes were closed, and the gun was slipping out of his grip, the butt thudding on the floor.
“Well, then.” Ben closed the distance between them. “All you have to do, Dan, is not say no.”
Dan exhaled, a quiet shudder. “I reckon-I reckon I could do that.”
And as Ben straddled his lap, gun and even the train forgotten for the moment, Dan didn’t have to say anything else, because the truth was plain as day on his face, and the way he didn’t turn it away when Ben Wade leaned down and kissed him.