Chapter Text
Jecka let her mind wander. Her mind would often wander to places she would rather not go. She tried to keep it in line as best she could. It was her mind after all, it should have to listen to her. Her eyes focused on the spot she had cast her line to. A gentle flowing river and a bit of early morning fishing was exactly what she needed.
She huddled closer into herself, the cold wind cutting through her jacket. Dazzling oranges and yellows reflected gently off the surface of the river. Around her the sounds of the forest were alive and well. That was a good sign. It meant that everything was right with the world.
Something tugged on her line, but Jecka didn't move. Patience was a virtue, and the most important skill for an outlaw like her.
It was still too early to pack up and head out. Behind her and well above and away from the bank of the river was her campsite. Typically she traveled as light as possible, with the smallest camp she could manage. Just in case she had unwelcome visitors. This morning was a bit different. She unpacked her good pot and had it simmering over a low fire for a hearty stew. The fish she would hopefully catch she would chop, salt, and roast for a snack later in the day.
She didn't have much longer she could waste out here. Before nightfall she would have to be in Blackwater. There were two people she had to meet, each one worse than the other. As difficult a burden it was to bear, it was for something more important than her.
Jecka felt another tug on her line. It wasn't time yet.
A cold wind blew right through her. Jecka longed for her stew at camp. She had built it next to a cluster of pine trees. Their thick trunks had provided shelter from the wind, and their leaves kept her mostly safe from the buildup of snow above.
She wasn't built for mountain living like this. She longed for the days where she could return to Big Valley, maybe settle down with a cabin at the base of a mountain, and certainly not on it. At this point in her life she had little care for wealth or power or infamy. A far cry from her previous self. All she wanted was peace.
Another tug on the line, and Jecka yanked back hard. It was a difficult fight going back and forth with her future snack. After wearing it out enough, she jumped up and approached the edge of the water, careful not to wade out into it, and reeled in her exhausted prey.
After all of that, she caught a Bluegill. Only a scarce few inches long, it must not have been eating too well. Not that it mattered, if Jecka was fishing for a real meal she wouldn't have done it by this peaceful stream. Satisfied with her work, she trudged uphill back to camp.
Thankfully, her horse was still there, content to be tied to a tree and with all of Jecka's gear unloaded. Her tail swished back and forth lazily. The small pot that dangled precariously above a low flame campfire gurgled with the satisfying sound of a stew waiting to be eaten. Jecka wasted no time in doing so either, quickly downing the meatless stew straight from the pot. She was happy enough with only vegetables, at least when she was traveling as rough as she was.
"Sorry about this, girl," Jecka whispered to her horse as she packed her things and loaded them back up. She knew poor Blackwell hated all of the hard days of traveling, especially in her older age. They both deserved to be lounging about all day, with many mornings just like this.
But Jecka had made too many mistakes in her past, now they both get to suffer for it. It wasn't fair to Blackwell, and is wasn't fair for the others.
For the first time that morning, Jecka failed to keep her mind from going to the one topic she would rather it didn't. Deep in her bones she felt that aching feeling. Like nostalgia but worse, she longed to see her again. Jecka would never admit it to anyone other than herself, but she missed Nicole. Those days were long passed now, but they still haunted her.
Maybe it was punishment for the things she did. Maybe she deserved it.
Jecka fastened her camping supplies onto Blackwell, and fished around in her pouch, forgetting that she had ran out of cigarettes days ago. She swore and kicked at the dirt beneath her, agitating Blackwell. What kind of girl names her damn horse after a cigarette company, Jecka thought. Then again, what kind of girl rides around on horses shooting at people?
The sun was already too high in the sky for Jecka to be wasting any more time. She knew what she had to do, and dragging her feet wouldn't help one bit. Blackwater by sundown. She mounted Blackwell and urged her to trot along back to the trail. It seemed not even her horse was ready to head back into the city. That made two of them, and neither had any choice in the matter.
Maybe life would be easier if she had been born a horse, Jecka thought. She remembered her previous horse, also named after a cigarette company, and thought otherwise.
*****
Jecka had forgotten how long it took to get out of Tall Trees. The trails were winding and the forest never-ending. Around her the sounds of the forest filled her ears, and a cool wind chilled the sweat that trickled on the pair of travelers, despite the cold air.
Things had been going at a good pace until Jecka found the bodies.
They, what used to be a small family of four, were strung up in two tall, thick trees on either side of the trail. Parts of their body hung loose from shoddily tied ropes, like a macabre welcome sign. Jecka couldn't tell which parts belonged to who. The heads of each member were scalped and were stuck upon sharpened sticks in the middle of the trail. From a distance it looked like they were standing there. Their wagon had been left in a burnt heap just behind them, stretched out across the trail.
From the looks of the burnt wagon and flies swarming the area, they must have been dead a long time. Jecka grabbed her rifle, always slung over her back, and held it at the ready. This was as clear a trap as Jecka had ever seen before. From the looks of things, it seemed it had already been sprung. A red trail of something being dragged off into the nearby bushes was evidence of that.
Jecka carefully maneuvered Blackwell to the opposite end of the trail, where there were fewer bushes. Blackwell seemed nervous, whining and walking slowly where Jecka guided her. The opposite side of the trail seemed safe enough, but Jecka kept her eyes and ears focused for any sudden movements.
As they rounded the large tree, a bush a few feet away shook. Jecka fired a single shot. In a split second the bullet left the chamber, and Jecka had already cocked another round. The movements of firing and pumping the lever was so natural that her rifle was more of an extension to her than her own hands.
The bullet hit dead on to whatever was in the bush. A loud squeak mixed with the crack of the bullet. Whatever it was, it wasn't human, and it wasn't worth checking. Jecka swiveled her entire body around, anticipating something or someone to fly at her.
Silence quickly descended upon the forest. No birds were chirping and even the wind had fallen still. Jecka quickly gave Blackwell three short taps with her stirrups, and Blackwell bolted. With one hand on her rifle, finger resting on the trigger, and her other wrapped tightly with the reigns, she steered Blackwell back onto the trail and booked it as fast as they could manage.
Jecka felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She twisted around, and saw a fifth figure among the heads. She tapped Blackwell once more.
The pair didn't stop until they had breached the hellish forests of Tall Trees an hour later. Blackwell nearly collapsed from exhaustion, and Jecka kept her eyes trained on the treeline. Carefully she coaxed her horse behind a boulder before finally dismounting.
Jecka positioned herself, rifle at the ready, facing the trees. The tops of them swayed in a strong gust, and Jecka almost let loose a volley of fire. When she turned around, Blackwell was gone.
She had wandered out from behind the boulder and down to a small stream, happily lapping up as much water as she could.
Jecka took a deep breath and sighed. She decided to join her horse, who gave her a friendly nudge with her dripping wet nose. Jecka giggled, kneeling down to splash the cold water from the stream on her face. She figured now would be a good chance to stop and eat her snack. She dug out her dried fish from her pouch, and an apple to feed to Blackwell. She was saving the apple as a treat for later, but after getting through that whole ordeal, she figured Blackwell deserved it.
Beyond the stream was the expansive region of the Great Plains, West Elizabeth. An area that stretched farther than someone could fathom, eventually spilling out into Flat Iron Lake. Jecka's shoulder sunk, knowing that she would have to cross it in record time to reach Blackwater. She looked to her horse, who had settled down by then, and to the trails ahead.
*****
Above her dark clouds swirled. Really she should have guessed that an ugly storm would be rolling in, but she had hoped it wouldn't be until after her arrival into Blackwater. When she felt the first drops of rain hit her hat, she urged Blackwell to press on, much to her horse's annoyance.
It had been hours since her encounter back in the forest, but she couldn't shake that feeling of being watched. She was certain that fifth figure among the bodies had been real. Even now as the sun began to set, and the brilliant colors of the evening sky in the great plains engulfed by dark clouds, she still felt watched.
The closer she approached Blackwater the more frequently she saw others out on the trails. Even despite how late it was and the storm gathering overhead, people were still out on their business. Jecka took it as a sign of times changing. There was once a time people wouldn't dare leave Blackwater in the very same conditions. She used to be one of the reasons for that. Maybe it was lingering guilt that made her think about it.
In the darkness beneath the storm, the lights of Blackwater shone like a beacon. The closer Jecka got, the tighter she could feel the noose around her neck grow. Dirt trails turned into stone roads lined with streetlights powered by electricity. It's the future, Jecka was told by someone she trusted. That was a long time ago, and the future has come to pass in ways Jecka thought impossible.
She was just in time to her meeting.
Jecka strolled into town, trying to prepare herself. It felt like since the last time she had been in town it had doubled in size. People, both drunk and sober" walked the main street, dipping in and out of different bars and stores. There was a line down the sidewalk of people dressed in fancy clothes all waiting to see a show at the theater. Jecka felt like an animal in a cage.
Past the bustling main street was a large plot of land that almost looked over the city. The plot had three large buildings surrounding a gazebo and well maintained lawns. Two of the buildings were for the state government, and the other was federal. It was the future, she had been told. Jecka hitched Blackwell to a fancy looking post and made her way to the federal building.
The moment she strolled in, all eyes focused on her. There were a few benches to her sides, and in front was a counter, complete with iron bars and no doors to enter. It was the federal way of protecting their own. Two men turned from the counter and faced her. One smiled, the other sneered.
Pinkerton agents.
The union-busting, thieving, murdering, extorting, and violent bunch of pretend lawmen hired by the federal government to take the lives of people like Jecka. It was going to be a long night.
"Jecka Valentine," one of the men, the shorter one, said. His voice dripped with slime.
"Shit, I didn't think she was gonna show up," the taller one said.
"Agent Jeffery, Agent Kylar," Jecka nodded.
"Punctual," Jeffery said, "we like that here. No time to mess around on this." He walked up to Jecka, placing a hand on her shoulder and motioning for the door.
Jecka shrugged the hand off. Kylar walked on the other side, fumbling with an umbrella. The night outside had quickly turned almost pitch black, only pierced by the dim streetlights. Rain had begun falling from the sky, and a strong wind blew through the city. Kylar grumbled as his suit was immediately soaked. At least Blackwell didn't seem too bothered. She always liked the rain.
So did Jecka for that matter. While the two on either side tried to rush her beneath the gazebo, she elected to take her sweet time.
"Sorry we had to bring you out here to talk," Jeffery said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm sure you're aware of how sensitive this all is."
"You mean getting a former outlaw to do your dirty work?" Jecka asked.
"Once an outlaw, always an outlaw," Kylar snorted. "That's how it works now."
"Would rather it be that traitors like you and your family got strung up after the war," Jecka said.
Kylar opened his mouth to shout, but Jeffery silenced him with a mean look. Agents like them were too easy to get riled up. Back in the day men like him were easier to kill.
"What we're getting at, Ms Valentine, is that we need you to tie up that loose end of yours. And we know where she's hiding out."
Jecka raised an eyebrow. There were many choice words she could think of to use at that moment, but elected to behave herself for just a little longer. It was the correct decision to make, she noticed, as beyond the cover of darkness and rain, she could make out the distinct shimmer of metal beneath lamplight. A lot of shimmers. Discretely, Jecka glanced around, and counted no less than five agents some ways away, watching.
"Your former compatriot, Emily, has been seen in the Tall Trees area. Nowadays she leads a band of savages and outlaws, such as yourself."
Jecka froze for a moment, her brows furrowing. She tried not to think too hard about the alleged connection between Emily and her encounter earlier that day.
"I don't believe it," Jecka said, a quiver in her voice she hoped no one noticed.
Kylar laughed.
"We don't rightly give a damn on what you think. We, personally, think we should shoot you dead right here on the spot, but we don't always get what we want out of life, now do we, Valentine?" Kylar's breath smelled of alcohol.
"And do either of you actually have proof of this?"
Jeffery looked to Kylar, then sighed. "Well, uh, no photographs yet."
"Yet?" Jecka asked. Her heart was beating faster.
"We do have a few accounts. From the few survivors we've managed to find, that is," Jeffery said.
"Tell me."
"One survivor was picked up by a kind traveler with a wagon. How he survived the trip down is nothing short of a miracle. His scalp was gone. Cut clean off. His eyes were picked out, and his face hardly looked like one at all."
Jecka's stomach dropped. That couldn't be possible, yet her own experience proved her otherwise. Her face went pale. She braced her shaking hands on the railing of the gazebo. Jeffery came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder again. More than anything she wanted to put a bullet through his head.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I saw…. something similar on the way down. Whole family dead. They were strung up in the trees. Couldn't even tell which parts belong to who."
Jeffery looked to Kylar, then back to Jecka.
"You understand why she has to be stopped, don't you? Both for your own sake, and the innocent people of West Elizabeth."
Jecka just about hurled. 'For your own sake' Jeffery said, as if there was any choice for her.
"So what do you want me to do"? Her grip on the railing tightened. If she could shatter the wood then she would. This 'evidence' didn't sound like the Emily that she knew.
"You already know exactly what you have to do." Kylar exaggerated his southern drawl, as if it made him sound tougher than he really was. It made Jecka sick that people like him were allowed to live.
"To put it better," Jeffery began, "its either you or her. As far as the law is concerned, you both deserve to be swinging in a California collar. You, Emily, Nicole, anyone else we don't know about from that little 'gang' of y'all's. But think of it this way. This is your chance to earn back your freedom."
Jecka stared out into the stormy night. Rain pelted her face, and the faint glimmer off of the surrounding agent's badges danced at the edges of her vision. She knew she didn't have a choice in the matter. She knew that she would have to face Emily again.
More than anything, she hoped Nicole was far away from this. Somewhere far where they could never find her, even if it meant never seeing her again. Jecka's heart ached for Nicole more than it ached to feel true freedom.