Graveyard

Position;; Undertaker/Cartaker;; Open

Saying Good-Bye

Spring 16th, Year 1
2 AM

Michael had not been able to sleep, a thousand thoughts weighing heavy on his mind, so he had decided to simply give that notion up. Dressing himself, he quickly yet quietly slipped out of his house and, after pausing to in hale the cool just-past midnight air around him, he drew down his hat a little tighter on his head and headed for the graveyard.

Of course, he'd mostly been thinking on his family. His Ma. He missed her so much, and it tore him up inside every time he again realized that she was no longer here. He would never be able to see her, talk to her, listen to her voice,; it would never again be the same. Worst of all, she had slipped away while he was off acting like a boy. He hated himself for that fact, the thought lingering of what if ...

What if he had been here to assist in caring for things, would she have regained her strength and gotten better? Would it have made a difference at all? He had been spared seeing her fade away in pain and misery, something the rest of his family had not been spared, but Michael didn't believe he deserved it. No, if he could have taken her place he would have. His father - his father was now fading in a similar fashion to their mother, just not in so much pain. Or at least, not yet. Michael knew all this from talking to the resident Doctor, his family would have never betrayed such information about the mother's final days nor would the father have admitted what condition he was currently in. Even if it was plain to see.

Michael sat down cross-legged in front of a pile of stones with a cross marker that read 'Hanna Ames.' He was staring at it, but the focus of his eyes was on some point far beyond. They were open, but un-seeing. His father had welcomed his eldest son home with open-arms from his sick bed, only too happy to hand him the care of the shop. His other siblings he felt were a little resentful for this, though they were also secretly glad to see him and were hoping to have some semblance of a normal life again. Hanna, his sister and sibling closest in age to him, had figured him dead and had actually cried when he showed up. She had been shaken by the death of their mother and the weight of the knowledge that now she would need to provide for the family was a heavy burden on her little almost sixteen year-old shoulders. This had not mad her the nicest person in the world lately, but then when was she ever, Michael thought, but he was still glad to now be here to willingly take on his share.

Still. He missed his Ma, and he hadn't even gotten to say good-bye.

His elbows on his knees, he lowered his head, his fingers running through his hair underneath his hat, and he let a few tear drops fall in the darkness. "Good-bye, Ma." He murmured softly out in to the empty midnight air. After some time, Michael eventually raised his head, took a deep breath, then, with one last look at the grave marker, he stood up and walked away.

The next day, there appeared a white wildflower at the base of the grave marker.

Forgive Me
Summer 6, 1868
9:30 am
Tag: Open

"....I'll come get ya in a hour."

Rose glanced up at Tim from his perch in his wagon; he wouldn't meet her gaze. Even though the man she was visiting was important to both of them, Tim refused to go with her. The first time he had done this, she had been upset at being dropped off in a graveyard alone...to grieve alone. But now it was a relief. Timothy had made it obvious long ago that his was not a shoulder to cry on.

"Alright."

Turning away, she headed into the graveyard, ignoring her brother-in-law's stare. As she pushed open the small wooden gate, she heard the crack of his reigns and the sound of his wagon hurrying down the road. As silence filled the air once more, Rose let out a sigh, leaning against the fence. 'What am I going to say to Collin for the next hour?'

Pushing off the fence, she slowly made her way to the small grave, dead flowers curled up at its base. Kneeling, she picked them up and replaced them with the new ones she had brought. They were not fancy, just some wildflowers that grew near the house. Looking over the roughly made wooden cross, Rose frowned. This was not at all the kind of grave he should have.

"If we were home in England...you would be in your family tomb, where someone would come clean it up daily...not in some dirty little American town where no one remembers your name..."

Dusting off some dirt from the top of the cross she shook her head. "...I am sorry I do not come more often...Timothy is so rarely in a good enough mood to take me anywhere...and I do not often think to ask him."

Sighing lightly, she smoothed out her black skirt, guilt welling up in her chest; she did not think of her late husband as much as she thought she should. And when she did it was often to curse him for leaving her alone with Timothy, though she knew he had done what he thought was best. Sighing, her shoulders slumped.

"Forgive me, Collin...I am a poor excuse for a wife...even after you are gone."

9:35

It had been a long, hard trail these part few months. The particular trail Clint had been following since winter, had first led him out of town with the assistance of the town's deputy, who had been kind enough at the time to help him out of a tight spot. Wyatt had shown him the best trail to get out of the area at that time of year, had even rode with him. But then they parted ways about half-way to the next town, Wyatt assuring Clint that he would always be welcomed back, with or without his name being cleared first. In their parting, Clint had asked Wyatt to look after the Cass' for him. He truthfully did not know if he would be returning or not.

After watching the deputy ride away, Clint had carried on into the next town, eventually drifting his way towards the Texas border. His aim was to test the waters, see what he could find out about Joe Young's whereabouts these days. After three times almost getting caught on three different occasions, one truly just manging by the skin of his teeth, Clint decided it wasn't the proper time or way to go about it. From what he could gather, Young wasn't in the immediate area anyway – and it was rumored he was headed up towards the mid-western US – so being down in these parts was really not worth his time.

By the time he'd realized all this, it was getting to be late spring. Clint was still wanting to go after Young, but an even bigger part of him had been, and was still, stuck on the small town he'd left not even two seasons prior. Those mountains were calling to him. He knew it was high time to head on back, so he and Wildfire again hit the trail, this time heading for 'home.' He was slowly coming to think of that place a home-base of sorts for him. Still, it was dangerous to have a real 'home' when one was on the run.

Before seeing the Cass' he wanted to wash up a bit. After the rains yesterday, the creek was running good. He stopped for a few minutes to allow Wildfire good time to drink as well as wash the season or more's worth of trail dust from off his person. Being this close to town got him wondering how Wyatt was doing, and if the deputy was married by now. Back in winter, it had looked pretty promising from Clint's view, but who could tell. He did at least want to go and thank Tanner, and warn him that he was in the area again. Once his clothes were dry, Clint mounted and headed into town.

Keeping to the sidelines as much as he could, Wildfire ambled along at a slow clip-clop pace. Hit head lowered slightly so that his hat shaded his face, Clint was keeping a careful eye on the towns people and the goings-on around him. Movement from the graveyard at the side of the church caught Clint's attention and, curiously, he steered Wildfire over closer to the fence. He watched a woman dust off one of the grave markers, then shake her head and say something he couldn't make out. The woman looked so...defeated. Something about the scene called to him, but what pulled at his heart strings even more – as he sat a little straighter in the saddle and glanced around – was when he realized that she was all alone.

Before Clint really could think about, Wildfire pulled up to a stop next to the fence and he, just about to dismount, looked at the woman one last time and finally recognized her. It was Mrs. Garrett. A sudden panic shot through Clint, wondering if Timothy had passed and she was truly all alone in this wild land. But then...her husband had died only a year or two ago, perhaps, it was his grave she was visiting. If it were the latter, she might prefer to be alone, but still something was preventing Clint from walking away. It was only then that he, very quietly, heard her utter those last words about not being a very good wife. Even if was was eavesdropping and wrong, he just had to say something.

“...I'm sure he didn't feel that way,” Clint spoke quietly, hoping Rosealye would not get offended at his being there. He could understand it, though; he'd not even dismounted yet, so if she wanted him gone then he'd go. He still had to find Tanner, after all.. ..But he couldn't stand to see a woman, any woman but particularly one he knew and was fond of, so sad and not at least try and help in some way.

((OoC: Durr, long post is long... >< ;;; But it is up finally ~ Yay for Rose & Clint interaction! 8D <3 ))

“...I'm sure he didn't feel that way,”

Startled by the voice, Rose turned to see a man sitting on a horse nearby, looking down at her with a somber expression. For several seconds she stared at him, trying to piece together who he was.

"...Mr. Allen?"

Standing up, her mood brightened temporarily; she had only good memories of Clint, few though they were. Then she realized he had heard her speaking to Collin, and she glanced down in embarrassment.

"....ah...I am sure he did not think so either..." Glancing back at his grave she added quietly, "...but that does not mean it isn't true."

Looking back at Clint, she smiled softly, linking her fingers together in front of her. It really was nice to see him again. She had not gotten out much since he left besides seeing the Cass's occasionally, so he was still apart of her 'social circle' tiny though it was.

"You certainly vanished for quite some time, Mr. Allen. I hope your trip was a good one...though it is good to see you again."

"...Mr. Allen?"

Clint smiled a small half-smile, secretly pleased that the fair lady had remembered his name. Her next words were quite sobering, however, and his smile, such as it was, quickly faded. He acknowledged her words with a slight sorrowful nod as he readjusted himself in the saddle – though she had probably not seen him as her attention just then had happened to be on her late husband's grave. For the sake of cheering her up, he knew the conversation had to be turned to something else, and so for this reason and this reason alone, he allowed it to turn to his...'trip,' as she had put it.

“Yes, I ended up needin' a change of scen'ry sometime in winter. Went down by Texas way, saw a good part of the country.” Clint gave her the short bit of it, not including too many details – not really including any details at all. Then he glanced away from her, over his shoulder towards the mountains in the distance, and said, “...But I couldn't leave those mountains f'r too long,” he then turned his attention back to Rose and gave a little smile as he added, “Nor the people 'round here. Some 'a the nicest folk I ever met.” Looking up towards the sky, Clint gave a small snort-type laugh and wore a teasing-type grin as he returned his attention to Rose with the question, “Speakin' 'a which, how's Tim doin'?”

He, of course, knew that by and large, Timothy's personality was anything but the 'nicest.' As he somewhat nervously fingered Wildfire's reins, though, he hoped the purpose of his question might work – to make Rose laugh, or at least smile. Wildfire blew out a deep sigh and lowered her head to sniff along the bottom of the graveyard fence.

Listening attentively to Clint, Rose could tell he wasn't divulging much about his trip. She remembered that he had been chased--she had dressed a wound of his after all--but decided not to ask about that. It was too serious a subject for a lady to be asking a man she hardly knew.

“...But I couldn't leave those mountains f'r too long,” Smiling, she followed his gaze. "The mountains are lovely," she said quietly. Sometimes she would stop what she was doing and marvel at them. Still, they could not replace the ocean in the heart. It had been years since she had last laid eyes on it, and wondered if she ever would again.

“Nor the people 'round here. Some 'a the nicest folk I ever met.” Looking back at him, she nodded a bit absently, "Yes, everyone I have met has been very amiable." She did not mention of course how few she had met, but would take his word on it.

“Speakin' 'a which, how's Tim doin'?”

Letting out a startled laugh, she pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling the rest of it into a low chuckle. Shaking her head, she grinned at him, "Mr. Friendly is doing just fine, though he is sure to tell you otherwise. Same man as always; arrogant, overbearing, patronizing, and a damn pain to live with--oh!"

Covering her mouth again, Rose's face went red. She hadn't meant to curse, or even to bad mouth Timothy. Just talking about him got her all fired up, and since someone had actually asked her...moving her hand to her cheek, she glanced at him hesitantly.

"Pardon my language...I am afraid I have been around him too long."

Listening to her responses, Clint wasn't real sure what 'amiable' meant, but seeing as how she'd said yes, it must have something to do with agreement. He smiled a real smile upon hearing her laugh; yes, there it was. And the cute way she'd acted in trying to stifle it. Her calling him, 'Mr. Friendly' also made him smirk. Her tirade against him was also mildly amusing, causing him to actually let out a laugh as she covered her mouth and her face got red. If at all possible, she'd just gotten a whole lot cuter.

“No need t' 'pologize to me.” Clint told her, amusement still clear on his face as he slowly shook his head, staring at Rose. He had been around much rougher characters in his lifetime that he didn't always notice such things these days, honestly it was different yet refreshing when someone actually cared about that sort of thing. He paused for a moment, sitting up straight in the saddle and leaning forward as he glanced around, ever watchful to his surroundings. Just then a thought occurred to him.

“Say, did you come int' town on your lonesome?” He questioned, returning his attention to her. “Or is Mr. Friendly somewheres around?” He couldn't remember whether or not she could even travel or ride a horse on her own, but...who couldn't at least ride a horse? 'Course, he reckoned, one did have to have a horse to spare first.

Peering up at him from under her bonnet, Rose couldn't help but smile; it was nice to have someone talk to her, REALLY talk to her. It was probably very indecent to be laughing and talking like this in a graveyard, but she was hungry for good company and she wasn't about to waste a minute of it. Surely Collin would understand that.

“Say, did you come int' town on your lonesome? Or is Mr. Friendly somewheres around?”

Chuckling lightly at Tim's new nickname, she shook her head. "Oh no. He dropped me off a little while ago, and headed into town for an hour or so," shrugging she looked down the road that lead into town. "He doesn't like coming with me here," rubbing her hands on her skirt she let out a short laugh, "Though I guess I cannot blame him."

It occurred to her then that perhaps Clint did not particularly care to stand around in front of her husband's grave. Still, she could not bring herself to just ask him to leave, because she did not want him to. She wanted to continue talking to him, and having some pleasant company for once.

Poor Mr. Allen...a victim of my selfish loneliness.

Looking up at him, she nodded to the road, "If you do not mind, we could walk into town. It is a bit dreary to stand in a graveyard."

“Ya still shouldn't be alone 'less you wanted to be,” Clint said slowly, though without looking at Rose. He was looking down the trail ahead with a sort of concentrated expression. He was thinking, what if some rough character came up and saw a pretty little woman like Miss Rose all alone and decided to have some fun? He hated the idea, so when she suggested walking into town together, it didn't take him long at all to agree. Looking down at her, he nodded.

“I don't mind,” Clint spoke softly as he dismounted, saving most of his energy for getting himself off the horse. Sometimes not all that easy, considering his bad leg. “I's act'ally headed that way anyway.” He added, standing there and holding Wildfire's reins in one hand as he waited for Rose to come around the fence. He held out his arm, in the event Mrs. Garrett might want to have access to it as they walked, as was more proper-like, he'd thought, for women of her class. Plus, he didn't want her to trip in all this dirt and still plenty of mud, from last night's rain.

“D'you know Tanner, one of the deputy's in town? … He helped me outta town last Winter when I needed it. I wanted t' find 'im and thank 'im.” Clint offered for his reason of being in town with a small shrug. As they continued walking over the somewhat muddy ground, he glanced down at Rose's shoes and suddenly thought to ask, “Would you rather be up on the horse, so ya...don't get, more muddy?” Clint asked, looking at her as if he were slightly confused. He wasn't used to dealing with women or having to think about what things would concern them.

Relieved, Rose was glad he was willing to walk into town with her. Watching him get off his horse, she noticed for the first time how he favored one leg. Once she realized it though, she immediately turned her attention to his face, not wanting to make the moment awkward. Was this a recent thing? Or perhaps it was just her imagination. Pushing it out of her mind, she pushed open the gate, and moved beside him outside of it.

"I am glad it will not be out of your way," she said before looking at his arm a moment. Then meeting his eye, she beamed, carefully looping her arm through his.

"It has been a very long time since someone offered their arm to me. It is refreshing," breathing a soft laugh, she remembered how common place it had been back home. She had almost never left the house without being hooked onto someone's arm.

As they started walking, Rose felt her mood greatly improving; it was pleasant to be with Clint. He was calming, and genuine. Listening to him, she shook her head, "I have heard his name, but I have yet to meet him," smiling at Clint she patted his arm, "He must be a very good man to have helped you out. Out here, people seem much more guarded...though it is very different than a large city."

“Would you rather be up on the horse, so ya...don't get, more muddy?”

"Oh..." Looking down at her shoes which had a thin layer of mud on them now, she laughed, "At this point, I do not think there is much point, Mr. Allen. Thank you though, I appreciate the offer," glancing up at the horse Clint lead she added, "Not to mention I do not rightly know how to ride a horse, and I am afraid I would just cause you more problems."

This man had been called a lot of things in his life - but refreshing had never been one of them. It was odd, really, to even have the word associated with his name. He liked to see her smile, though, and couldn't help but smile in return. And to hear her laugh..every time he did, a strange feeling passed through him; strange, yet pleasant. Then feeling her arm lightly pressed through his... This was a whole new experience for him and he truly did not know how to handle it, if he wanted to handle it at all.

Clint realized something then, in that moment. This 'new experience' thing, it would not bode well for either of them, if pursued. He was on the run and she no doubt was, or used to be, a gentleman's daughter. It would only put her in danger, if she fell for him. 'Cause...well, Clint knew nothing about love, and though he was pretty sure he hadn't fallen for her yet, and he also pretty sure that if he stayed around much longer, well he just might... Even though he knew well the dangers, one glance down at her and he knew he couldn't simply abandon her; he couldn't run, not yet. He knew it was unlikely she would ever feel that way about him anyway, so for now he was content to be...'refreshing.'

Then, after they'd started talking about Wyatt, Mrs. Garrett went and patted his arm. Clint had his gaze held firmly on the ground until he was fairly certain the blush he could feel rising to his cheeks was settled mostly to the regions of his neck, covered up by the collar of the waist coat he still wore. He looked up to meet her gaze and nodded.

"Yeah, it c'n pay if yer not 'least somewhat wary of strangers. But, yeah, Wyatt's a good guy." Clint said with a bit of a grin as he looked up again to the trail ahead, thinking of the young deputy. And then the conversation turned to the mud. When she mentioned not knowing how to ride a horse, his eyes went wide and he paused a moment in their walking.

"Not know how to ride a horse?" He asked, as if in shock and disbelief as he stared at her. Then he slowly shook his head, making a disappointed noise but grinning the whole time as he started them off again. "Hm, we'll have t' get that remedied soon. Can't be in the west an' not know how t' ride a horse." Clint muttered to himself, then also continuing under his breath about how, 'says he's 'sposed t' look after ya, man never taught ya how t' ride, how c'n...' and so forth. Maybe he could ask Anabel to teach her, since...he might not fully trust himself in that regard.

"...Maybe the Cass' c'n teach ya. They had some nice n' calm mares over there." He added, aloud, once he was more calm.

Stopping with Clint, she looked at him, amused. Pressing a hand to her lips, she held in a laugh; he seemed genuinely shocked that she could not ride. "It is a indeed a tragedy."

As they started walking again, she glanced up at his horse, wondering what it might be like to ride up there alone. The idea was a bit intimidating. Turning her attention back to Clint, she shrugged lightly. "To learn would be nice, I suppose, but I doubt Timothy would allow it. He does not like the idea of me wandering off, I think. Does not want me to hurt myself...or some other such nonsense."

Huffing in irritation, she thought what he would do if he found out she was trying to ride a horse. His wrath probably would not be worth it. Glancing at Clint, though, then the horse, she wondered what it would be like to truly ride, wind in her hair and no one else controlling where she could go. What freedom that must be...but she wasn't free. She was bound until Timothy until he passed her off to either some man to marry or back home to her father.

Gripping her skirt tightly, she felt that terrible fire welling up within her, that fire that made her want to march outside even when Timothy made her stay indoors, and to put on trousers, leap on a horse and ride away. ...though I could not very well do that if I do not even know how to ride, she thought bitterly.

"...Maybe the Cass' c'n teach ya. They had some nice n' calm mares over there."

Coming back to the moment, she nodded slowly, still struggling to subdue her rebellious thoughts. However this was proving most difficult. "....but Timothy would have to take me over there, and if I am to learn at all I would have to be over there quite a bit, would I not? He would surely suspect something..." Tapping Clint's wrist absent mindedly, she forgot that she was trying to not give in to her secret desires. An idea suddenly coming to her, she stopped, looking up at Clint with wide eyes.

"Why don't you teach me, Mr. Allen! Timothy will be gone for quite a while as he sells his cattle...and during that time you can teach me! Then, upon his return, I can show him what I have learned and he is bound to at least acknowledge that I can do somethings on my own!" Grasping his arm, she stared at him, her mind whirling with the possibilities. It would occur to her later how absurd this sounded, and how terribly indecent, her being a widow and Clint a bachelor. There was sure to be talk if this came to fruition. Not to mention Timothy was not a forgiving man, and this would more than likely insight his rage more than his respect.

But in that moment all she could imagine was riding away from that damned house with it's damned cramped quarters and damned memories. She could be free from everything, if only for a short time. Stepping a bit closer to Clint she searched his face for some response, "Please, Mr. Allen...."

"To learn would be nice, I suppose, but I doubt Timothy would allow it. He does not like the idea of me wandering off, I think. Does not want me to hurt myself...or some other such nonsense."

“You should know, just in case somethin' happened an' he wasn't there.” Clint frowned again as all these unwelcome prospects started marching through his mind. And then there was still the matter of convincing Timothy. “I'll talk to 'im, see if somethin' cain't be worked out.” Clint seemed to be rather set in this, even if he did not know at all, and was secretly perhaps more than a little weary of how Timothy would respond. Still, it was a fact of life as well as a necessity for this part of the world, and Timothy should have known that. Caught up in his own thoughts, he did not see the way Rose grabbed at her skirt in obvious restrained anger, didn't notice any peculiar looks on her face. Had he known her thoughts of the time, he would have agreed - everyone needed the ability to get away from it all every now and again.

His thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as he suddenly realized that she was tapping on his wrist. He glanced down to watch this go on with an amused look on his face. Looking up into her face, he could see she was clearly concentrating hard on something. It didn't take him long to find out what, either. She suddenly sprang it upon him with wide, eager eyes and he found himself stopping when she did. "Why don't you teach me, Mr. Allen! Timothy will be gone for quite a while as he sells his cattle...and during that time you can teach me! Then, upon his return, I can show him what I have learned and he is bound to at least acknowledge that I can do somethings on my own!"

Clint stared at her with his mouth dropping open ever so slightly – this was exactly what he had been thinking to well avoid earlier – and he gave off a decent impression of a fish as his mouth worked for a second or two but no sound came out. She'd even grabbed onto his shoulder! She'd said that Timothy would be gone...hence, they would be alone? Clint didn't need to be told to know that this was not of the best idea. He clipped his mouth shut, resolved to say no, but then looking again into those big, brown eyes, he again frowned. He had to look away from her to gather up his resolve. "Please, Mr. Allen...."

Her plea, as well as her closeness, caused him to look down again to meet her gaze. She was searching for something, though Clint wasn't sure what. He lowered his head and breathed out a sigh, then said, “...I'll still need t'talk with Tim.” his voice was low and quiet in his response, and he lifted his hand to brush hers off his shoulder and keep walking, but then he realized something.

“You gonna be on yer own for that while?” Clint asked, stopping again and turning full attention to Rose. He could at least offer her room with the Cass', he knew they'd take her in. If Timothy didn't want to spring for having her stay in town, that was.

“...I'll still need t'talk with Tim.” Clint's reply was quiet, and he moved to brush her hand away. His sudden coldness jolted Rose out of her excited fervor. Dropping her hands, she tucked them together and lowered her head. She had gotten carried away with wild ideas and notions that were not proper for a young woman. A young widow. Glancing up at Clint as he turned to look at her, she realized her mistake in being so forward; so eager for companionship and freedom, she had not even thought of what it meant for Clint.

“You gonna be on yer own for that while?”

Shrugging, Rose twisted her wedding ring, her eyes drifting to look at the mountains. "I doubt it...Timothy would not leave me in charge of his homestead. I shall most likely be put off on someone or be assigned a sitter." She said the last word with a hint of bitterness, but it faded quickly. All the energy she had only moments before had vanished, and once again the fire was subdued. The thought of riding on her own still captivated her thoughts, but it would prove pointless if Timothy had a say in it.