pullmeoutalive | Ramey

[ emma's relieved when he doesn't kick up a fuss (not that she wasn't prepared for more of a fight, if need be), and she quickly takes stock of her house. it's small, hardly built with places to hide, but as long as they don't try to inspect the inside itself, it ought to be fine if he stays out of view.

she thinks.

she opens her mouth to respond, but the sound of hooves outside makes emma tense all over. a quick glance at the front window shows two men coming to a halt with their horses just down the path from her home, and in a moment of desperation, she gives him another quick shove in the direction of the only other closed off space in the house. ]

Bedroom. And stay away from the windows.

[ but she's already pulling away, making a beeline from vasquez's sleeping space to gather up the bedroll and pillows, wanting to tuck them out of view as quickly as possible. ]

[ The sounds of the horses outside draws a curse out of him. Whatever time they might have had to conceal his presence is long gone now. He hurriedly helps her gather his things, giving the small house a cursory sweep for anything he might have missed before ducking into the bedroom. ]

Stay safe, querida.

[ Hurried, hushed, before he closes the bedroom door. He presses himself against the wall near the door, careful to stay out of sight of the windows, heart hammering in his chest, one hand on his gun.

He hopes against hope that they'll just pass on by, that they'll take the word of a lady and move on. ]

[ that name catches her for a second, makes her step falter — but only for the space of a heartbeat, and then emma's smoothing down her skirt, tucking her hair away from her face as she fights for composure. it's difficult with the mess of nerves roiling in her stomach, and she still nearly jumps out of her skin when that knock finally comes at her door.

breathe.

she schools her expression into something neutral as she approaches the door, opening it enough to look out at the two men standing on her porch. ]

Afternoon, ma'am. [ the first man greets her with a tug at the brim of his hat, his lips pulled in what she can only assume he thinks to be a smile. it feels far more like a sneer.

his partner only offers her a nod. ]

Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?

[ she manages to keep her voice steady, tame down that icy edge of standoffishness that pulses through her with all that unease. ]

Well, we're just passin' through. Lookin' for a man, and we were hoping you might've seen somethin' of him come through here. [ the bounty hunter reaches into his jacket, producing a crumpled, folded paper that calls back to mind a similar moment, sam producing the very same picture now being held up to emma.

poor likeness, she thinks dryly. ]

Goes by the name of Vasquez. Some vaquero— [ and here, the man's pronunciation might've been worthy of some of faraday's more willfully awful spanish. ] —shot a ranger in cold blood. We've been on his trail a while now, and seems it went cold somewhere 'round he—

Haven't seen him. [ emma interrupts the man's spiel with a flat look, crossing her arms over her chest. ]

You sure? Maybe take another look. [ he holds up the wanted poster again, but emma doesn't bother glancing down. ]

Is there something else I can help you with? I was just in the middle of startin' dinner, so if you don't mind. [ emma sets her hand on the door, moving to close it.

a large hand snaps out and catches the door.

the second bounty hunter finally speaks up, his voice coming like gravel, like rocks ground together. (it sets emma's teeth on edge.) ]

Your husband home today, ma'am?

...I have no husband to speak of, sir.

[ the bounty hunter makes a noncommittal noise. ]

You alone here?

Yes. [ emma's tone is clipped, sharp with impatience now. ]

Funny, I coulda sworn there was someone else openin' that door of yours when you came runnin' home.

[ if emma were the type to say fuck, now would be the time for it.

that broad hand shoves against her front door, forcing it open and knocking emma back a step. ]

Wh—hey! You have no right— [ but the bounty hunters aren't paying her any mind at all as they step past her into the house. ]

[ He keeps pressed close to the door, straining to listen. He can't make out every word, but he can hear Emma's tone of voice, sharp and no nonsense and liable to make lesser men think twice about what they were doing. If not for the circumstances, he'd almost smile about it.

Instead he's focused on the voices on the other side of the door, keyed up and nervous and ready for the worst.

It's a good thing he is, because he hears Emma shout- a noise that fears him with anger and fear in equal measure- and heavy footfalls stepping into the house. Either these gentlemen have taken it upon themselves to conduct their own search, with or without Emma's permission, or the jig is well and truly up.

One of the men steps further into the house, glancing around the small living room, before inevitably coming to the closed door. He doesn't bother to ask Emma what it's a door to, or if he can even open it. He just lays into it with his boot, kicking it clean open.

Vasquez will have to fix that later.

He'll also have to clean up the bloodstains everywhere, because the instant the door swings open, he snaps his gun from it's holster, bringing it level with the bounty hunter's head in one clean movement. ]

Hola.

[ And he pulls the trigger, the sound of the gunshot far too loud in the quiet little house. The man drops in a spray of blood. One down, but that leaves one left. ]

[ emma's found herself outnumbered, outsized, and definitely outgunned when the bounty hunters sweep into her house. her protests fall on deaf ears as the men immediately start to search the house, and when one makes a beeline for her bedroom, she still shouts at him to stop, stepping forward to follow after him — only to find herself yanked back by her arm by the second bounty hunter.

she's about to snap a heated, "let go of me!" but she goes completely still when that door is kicked down, and—

vasquez's voice. a gunshot. emma's startled, wordless yell. ]

Fuck! [ the second bounty hunter has his own gun in hand now, still with that grip on emma's arm holding her fiercely in place when she tries to wriggle free. ] You son of a—

[ emma doesn't give him a chance to finish, and just slams the heel of her own boot into the top of the man's foot with as much force as she can muster.

he snarls in pain, but loosens his grip enough on emma's arm for her to pull herself free in a flurry of movement, momentary confusion as the bounty hunter desperately tries to keep track of emma and focus his attention (and his gun) on vasquez at the same time. ]

[ It's over quickly, but the seconds seem to stretch on forever. He steps around the door frame, over the body of the first bounty hunter, and sees the dead man's partner holding Emma in place, his gun in his free hand. And then he sees red.

(It's a familiar feeling, one he's felt before. Seeing someone he cared about, in his own strange way, get hurt and flying into a rage because of it. Stalking from the ruined church with curses on his lips and fire in his blood, unloading both guns in a flurry of vengeance.)

But Emma is tough and resourceful, and in the moment that she manages to escape, the confusion it causes is enough. The man's attention splits for just a second, and Vasquez's rage comes down like a hammer. ]

No volverás a tocarla.

[ He fires one shot into the man's chest and the hunter jerks, tries to bring his gun up. The next bullet goes into the shoulder of his gun arm, and his weapon clatters to the floor. The third bullet tears through his leg, dropping him to one knee. The fourth, and final, hits the man right between the eyes.

The bounty hunter remains upright for a comical second, as if he didn't realize that he should be dead, before collapsing to the floor. ]

[ good god.

emma can't do anything more than watch as vasquez advances on the second hunter, as he fires once, twice, three times and a fourth, until the man finally collapses into a heap. each shot makes emma jolt with surprise, her hand pressed over her mouth as she stares wide-eyed at vasquez.

there's no horror in her expression, just pure shock, standing there in the middle of her home, blood everywhere, with two dead men spread across her floor. the air around them feels like it's buzzing with the sudden silence, the ringing emptiness in the wake of so much gunfire, and emma finally has to grip a nearby chair to stay on her feet.

she finally looks from the bodies on her floor and up to vasquez. ]

Vasquez—

[ in that moment, she has no idea whether to apologize or thank him. ]

[ Anger and adrenaline are still ricocheting around in his ribcage for a few dizzying seconds, but Emma’s voice seems to ground him, the sound of his name drawing him back to reality. He glances over, sees the shock on her face, and it hits him then what he just did.

He brought violence and death and bloodshed into her home.

He holsters his guns (and just when had he drawn the second one?) without even his usual flourish. His voice is oddly quiet when he asks, ]

Are you all right?

[ emma nods without hesitation. she's fine, completely unharmed — in stark contrast to the bounty hunters on her floor with the growing pools of blood creeping across the wood. ]

...are you?

[ because, lord, that had been a level of ferocity and rage emma had never seen up close and proper from vasquez. ]

Si. I’m fine.

[ Winding down a little, thankfully, and his eyes drift to the dead men sprawled on the floor. Christ, he’s made a mess of things, hasn’t he? ]

Perhaps you should stay somewhere else tonight. I can get this cleaned up.

[ the offer catches emma by surprise, but then she shakes her head. ]

No, I can help.

[ ...it wouldn't be the first time she's cleared away bodies.

(at least this time they aren't those of friends.) ]

It'll— go faster with extra hands.

Emma…

[ Her name gets breathed out in such a way that it sounds like he’s going to argue, and he very nearly does. He should tell her to get back into town, spend the evening with Leni or another one of the women while he cleared away the bodies and the blood.

It would be easier to leave if she weren’t here to see it, because after this, he surely must go. He can’t do this again, invite violence to her door by his mere presence.

But he is so very selfish, and so he doesn’t tell her to go. He relents with a quiet sigh. ]

All right. Help me get them outside.

[ emma steels herself for an argument, geared up as she gets to rightfully defend her stubbornness, but—

it doesn't come.

nodding, emma pushes up the sleeves of her dress, going up to the bounty hunter with those four holes bleeding slowly onto her floor. she stops short as she looks down at him, but only for half a moment, and then she's ready to help vasquez move the man out of the house. part of emma had hoped this would never be something she'd do again, coming this close to a freshly-slaughtered man, helping to clear out the dead, but she supposes this is the price of vasquez's life: the lives of men after a fair chunk of change who'd just as readily gun the outlaw down in return.

what a trade. ]

We can— bury them farther out.

[ This time he does insist that he can take care of the bodies himself. Emma doesn’t need to be riding out to God knows where to dump a couple of men into shallow graves, but her infamous stubbornness rears its head and Vasquez finds he doesn’t have it in him to fight her.

They get the bodies outside, leaving them to bleed out in a patch of dirt rather than on the floor. From there, they both roll up their shirtsleeves and clean up the blood and bits of viscera that have been scattered around Emma’s floor. It’s a first for Vasquez, cleaning blood off of a floor. Usually he only has to worry about his own clothes, sometimes his face and hands if it got especially messy. He didn’t stick around for the aftermath of the battle of Rose Creek, but he imagines Emma must be an hold hat at this sort of thing now.

What a sad thought that is.

The sun has long set by the time they get all of the red out of the floorboards, and the two of them have gone without dinner. They fill themselves with a simple, quick meal of bread and beans, and in the dead of night they throw a pair of corpses over the saddles of their horses and ride off. Better to get them taken care of now than leave them for someone to chance a glance at in the morning.

By the time they make it back to the house after depositing the two men in a shallow ditch somewhere, the sky is begging to grow light again, and exhaustion hangs heavy between them. It’s an effort to drag his bedroll out of the place he and Emma had stashed it before collapsing.

Vasquez makes a promise to Emma to fix the bedroom door in the morning, but morning comes and goes while the outlaw snores quietly in his place in the main room of the house. It’s past noon when he finally rises. In his groggy haze, he almost wonders if the events of the previous night had been imagined, but the sight of the damaged bedroom door is enough to bring reality crashing down again.

This can’t happen again. He needs to talk to Emma.

So he rises, pulls on his boots, and goes to see if she’s around. ]

[ even as exhausted as she'd been, sleep doesn't come easy to emma that night — or rather, day, as the case may be. she manages a few hours of it, but vasquez is still fast asleep when she dresses again (the stained, bloody clothes from the day before abandoned to be dealt with later), and instead, she spends the morning washing up in the nearby creek. there hadn't been much time for it the day before, nothing extensive, and the water still runs muddy with blood and dirt as she scrubs herself clean — enough to make her stomach clench.

the process of disposing of those bodies didn't upset emma, because, well, she's had more than enough practice confronting death like this now, dealing in it with her own two hands, but there's something that sits heavy with her each time. but...it was necessary. unavoidable. not like those men would've left peacefully, and given the choice between vasquez and them, well, was it even a question?

she's back to her home by noon, fresh and clean and smelling vaguely of lavender with still-damp hair. she's kept to the outside, however, not wanting to disturb vasquez when the man clearly needed the rest. she could have gone to town, kept herself busy like she usually does, but...today is different. she needs the bit of peace, instead of the constant flow of work and chores and people.

sitting quietly under the big tree closest to her house, she's even started to drift off in the shade (...which isn't necessarily the worst of her options, considering how little she slept the night before). ]

[ There’s not much house to really search, so Vasquez heads outside fairly quickly. It’s a nice day, warm and bright, and as he casts around for any sign of Emma, he catches sight of a familiar shock of red hair, caught by the midday breeze.

When he approaches the shade of the tree, he’s struck by just how peaceful Emma looks, dozing as she is, locks flowing free. The selfish part of him tries to argue that this is a good thing, if she can be so peaceful after being visited by chaos the night before, then there’s no need for him to leave. He can stay, as he so much wants to do.

But the logical part of him knows that this peace will only be fleeting as long as he and his bounty are around. ]

Emma.

[ Softly, so as not to startle her. ]

[ his voice is quiet enough that emma doesn't leap out of her skin at the sound of her name. her brow wrinkles just a touch, before she's slowly opening her eyes, blinking blearily at vasquez through the sun filtering down overhead. ]

Vasquez.

[ she breathes the name with something like relief, and she sits up a little straighter, rubbing a hand across her face. ]

Didn't realize I fell asleep. Have you been up long?

[ How unfair, saying his name like that. It’s almost enough to break his resolve, to encourage him to listen to the selfish part of him that wants nothing more to stay.

Almost, but not quite. ]

Not too long. Can I talk with you?

[ those words are enough to get emma to pause, something catching her attention to have her fully focused on him, despite the drowsiness still trying to cling to her. ]

Yes, of course.

[ she gets to her feet, pushing away a few wild curls, smoothing down her skirt, and then turning that intent gaze of hers to vasquez's face. ]

What's this about?

[ in the back of her mind, there's a quiet suspicion: the night before, the run-in with those bounty hunters. it's something they should talk about, by her reckoning, but she also isn't entirely certain how that conversation might play out. ]

[ Vasquez doesn’t know how to make this pretty, but he’s never been about making anything pretty. He’s all violence and teeth and sharp edges, and for a little while, he nearly forgot that. ]

I think it’s past time I take my leave.

[ —oh.

of all the possibilities emma had considered, that had not been one of them.

at first, she isn't sure whether she's more startled by his announcement or by the strange flurry of confusion and an immediate and visceral reaction of— ]

No.

[ the word flies from her lips before she can stop it. it's not exactly a dignified response, she realizes belatedly, and if she wasn't so startled, she might have apologized for how abrupt it comes. ]

I mean—

[ what does she mean? that's probably where she feels most caught, trying to explain for herself why she so desperately doesn't want him to go, but it's a thought she's been running circles around for weeks now. ever since she first saw his hat hung by her door. ever since coming back to her house started to feel like home again.

she steadies herself, tries again. her voice comes steadier, that resolve creeping into her tone like it so often does when she's made up her mind about something. ]

If this is about yesterday, don't feel like you need to leave because of those men. It was dealt with just fine.

[ The “no” catches him off-guard, sudden and startled and raw as it is. He blinks down at her, eyes widening just a fraction. He’d been half-expecting an agreement, a confirmation that his presence was a danger, a disruption, and she’s had more than enough of that for a lifetime, thank you very much.

She’s not making this any easier on him. ]

Emma, please. Those men would never have shown up here in the first place if it wasn’t for me.

[ It was dangerous, coming back, but it’s become even more dangerous to stay. He’s arguing for his own sake as much as hers. ]

Next time we might not be so lucky.

I don't care.

[ oh, and that's the honest response, isn't it? that she doesn't care who comes knocking at her door looking for the outlaw; she'll send them away all the same, or, well, deal with it like they had yesterday.

...the former is the preferable option. ]

I knew full well what offerin' you a place to stay meant. If I wasn't willing to accept it, I wouldn't have let you keep coming to me with things that needed fixing.

[ she'd have told him to go, because that's just how emma is. upfront, honest. a no-bullshitter. a straight-shooter. ]

[ Vasquez has had a lot of Marias in his life, but this may be the first time he’s ever had an Ethel.

Emma’s ire has only ever been directed toward him the once, way back when they first met, but he’s well aware of her stubbornness. Perhaps it was foolish to think that it wouldn’t rear its head here, and honestly he’s not quite so sure what to do with the fact that she doesn’t want him to go. Relief and reluctance are a strange cocktail, swimming around in his chest.

He finds his voice, finally, tries to dredge up some of that anger and fear from yesterday when he saw that man holding her there. ]

What if something happens, huh? What if you get hurt?

[ Or worse. ]

[ emma doesn't even flinch, doesn't even look close to agreeing with him. ]

I have faced down far worse than a few bounty hunters.

[ and she's not afraid.

lord, maybe she should be after yesterday, but...of all the emotions filtering through emma, fear for her own safety is oddly not one of them. if she's worried after anyone's life, it's vasquez. not because she thinks he can't protect himself (he's proved his skill and ferocity time and again), but because being pursued so relentlessly must wear. ]

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