Hi everyone! I really wanted to do a Faraday/OC story; I've seen Magnificent Seven twice already and want to see it again. No regrets! I hope you all enjoy!

Prologue

The sun rose, high and hot, over the mountains just east of the small, sleepy town. Already the loud, echoing blasts resounded through the dusty streets from the mines several miles away.

I rolled onto my back on my thick, plush mattress and exhaled heavily, rubbing the sleep from my warm, hazel eyes. The candle beside my bed burned low and bright beams of sunlight slipped through the window beside my bed. It filled the room and warmed my skin, causing a soft smile to stretch across my face.

It would be a beautiful day in Rose Creek, though I wasn't certain how much of it I would actually get to enjoy. There was a gathering in the church, where we would discuss the ever-growing problem that was Bartholomew Bogue; what it would solve, I couldn't be sure, but I knew I needed to be there.

As one of the wealthier citizens in town, I was expected to attend, despite my misgivings. Going into town meant mingling with the other townsfolk.

Which was always a treat, by God. I was the town pariah, the seductress, the murderous witch. The names varied, but certainly kept the sharp sting with every new moniker. It didn't hurt so much anymore, their hatred, but I saw red when they turned those hurtful names toward my daughter.

Rolling onto my side, I stared at the slumbering form curled into a tight ball beside me. The tiny five-year-old was burrowed beneath the sheets, a string of drool trailing from her mouth and into a spreading stain on the pillow. Her wild blonde locks were everywhere, an untameable rat's nest that I could barely get a brush through on the best of days. Her cherubic cheeks were flushed and I ran a finger lovingly across one, staring adoringly at her.

"Daisy," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her soft, warm forehead, "Daisy, love, wake up."

"No, Mama," she protested sluggishly, kicking out her legs and disturbing the wooly sheepdog at the end of the bed. Jax's head rose, his tail wagging slightly, before he flung himself onto his side and stared at the pair of us. Daisy wiggled closer to me, burrowing into my side and continued, "Don't wanna."

"But we've got places to be today," I replied, brushing the hair from her azure eyes as they cracked open and peered blearily up at me, "and, you smell that? I think Beth is making bacon. Your favorite."

Daisy hummed, somewhat rousted by the scent of meat frying from the floor below. Still, she didn't make to leave the bed, tucking her face into the crook of my neck and sighing noisily, "I was havin' a good dream, Mama, but I can't 'member it. Jax was there, I think, an' you. An' a man on a horse. But I don't know what else"

"Well, maybe some eggs will jog your memory," I teased lightly, "c'mon, we have to get up and go."

"Go where?" she queried curiously, sleepily, "we never go anywhere."

Because they're all so cruel to you, I thought sadly, stroking her hair, I could take you away from here. I should. We could start anew; I could say your father died in a mining accident… They would never know what happened, not like these people here…

"I know, but we must today," I stated, flinging the covers from our bodies and climbing out of bed. Smoothing out the wrinkles of my nightgown, I turned to my daughter and fisted my hands on my hips, cocking one out playfully. "You gonna make me drag you, Daisy?"

She sat up against my pillow, staring out at me from under a mass of curls, and sighed resignedly, "You're gonna hafta, Mama; I'm too cozy."

With a laugh, I ran back at the bed, scooping her up in my arms and swinging her around. She giggled wildly, clinging to me with both arms and legs, tossing her head back in utter joy. Jax leapt from the bed, dancing about in circles and barking excitedly.

I laughed, despite wishing we could stay that way, right there in that moment. Away from the other townspeople and their harsh words. The two of us, and Jax, hidden away forever, just us.

"Ms. Millie, breakfast's ready!"

But we couldn't. We had to face the day, face reality, and confer with the rest of the town about the risk Bogue posed.

"C'mon, Daisy, let's eat," I grinned, pecking her cheek noisily and dashing from the room, galloping like a horse and earning another round of wild giggles, "come, Jax!"

Down the stairs we went, the dog hounding my steps, and were met with the comforting sight of little old Beth puttering around the well-furnished kitchen. She was dishing a heaping helping of scrambled eggs onto each place but stopped and set the frying pan down in order to scoop up Daisy in her arms. The aging woman was like the little girl's grandmother, doting on her almost as much as I did.

As my daughter struggled to recall her dream to our only housemaid, I finished serving the three of us and sat down at the head of the table. Tossing Jax a slice of bacon, I pressed my mouth to my lips and grinned as he practically inhaled it. Beth, still cooing over Daisy's fragmented dream, set her down in the seat beside me, struggling to tame her hair, and then settled into the chair on my other side.

"Ms. Millie, how did you sleep?" she queried softly, resting a weathered hand atop my own and giving me a concerned onceover. She was always fretting over my well-being, though if there was a day she didn't, it would be the day she died. "Are you ready for this morning? What will you say to them?"

"Nothing, unless I have to," I replied with a light shrug, tossing my long, blonde braid over my shoulder and reaching for her hand and Daisy's, "I wouldn't go unless Bogue's plans didn't involve me, as well. Daisy, love, will you say grace this morning?"

She nodded eagerly, shifting the bacon in her mouth to one side and screwing her eyes shut, "Lord, bless our food and bless Mama and bless Miss Beth and bless me, if you could. And bless all the people and the aminals and the sky and trees and the house and Jax. Amen."

"Amen," I grinned, squeezing her hand softly and digging into my meal.

/

Daisy walked at my side, her hand in mine, as we made our way into town. Beth assured us she could fix up the wagon easily enough, but she wasn't the spring chicken she thought she was and I refused to use the contraption until we found ourselves a real stablehand.

My daughter chattered away at my side, oblivious to the growing anxiety that built within me as we neared the church. Of course, we went every Sunday, but this was not for service.

Before the doors of the large, white chapel, I knelt before Daisy and took her face in my hands, "Alright, love, remember; you must be quiet. The grown-ups are going to be talking and some might start yelling, but just stay silent. If they say anything about me-"

"I don't like when they do, Mama," she whimpered, dipping her head and sniffling.

Cupping her chin, I lifted her face and met her gaze, "Neither do I, love, but I ignore them. They are wrong and not worth our time when they say such things. I don't listen to them. You mustn't either. Understand?"

"Yes, Mama," she nodded, wrapping her fists in her little paisley gown and wringing them slightly. She didn't like it anymore than I did, but she would listen.

Inhaling sharply, I rose to my feet, squared my shoulders, and opened the doors. Some turned to see who entered and, based on their varying reactions - surprise, disgust, disapproval - others did as well. Some shook their heads while one muttered about my presence in a church being despicable, but the preacher offered me a warm smile and so did Matthew and Emma Cullen.

Slipping swiftly into the pew behind them, I offered a forced smile to the redhead before me as she took my hand and squeezed it. Her husband grinned politely and inclined his head, "I'm glad you could come, Ms. Millie. You, too, Miss Daisy."

Some of the tension coiling tightly in my shoulders loosened and my smile tentatively became more genuine. Though most ignored my request, the Cullens never failed to call me by Ms. Millie rather than Mrs. Evans. It made me uncomfortable and usually led to accusations and curses when the name Evans was brought up.

"We're ready to begin, I think," the preacher mused, rising to the pulpit and inclining his head to the congregation, "we must discuss the menace that Bartholomew Bogue has become. Too many have left already and those that remain will be forced from their homes if we let him have his way. We must remain strong, steadfast, as the Lord would want, and maintain the sanctity of our homes and our town. We cannot give in."

Immediately, a murmur rose from the congregation, both of dissent and agreement. Matthew nodded slightly in front of me and Daisy tugged at the lavender sleeve of my gown, "Mama, who's Bar-molo-few Bogue?"

"He's a very bad man, love, and we want to stop him."

"But how?"

"Yeah, how, Black Widow?"

A few snickered, but I simply shot the small, greasy man a withering look and curled my lip. Not a very original name, but Jamison Masterson wasn't known for his brilliance.

"Jamison, enough," the preacher chided sharply, "Ms. Millie has as much right to be here as you; she owns land in Rose Creek, same as the rest of us."

"Only got it cuz she murdered-"

"Enough!" Matthew growled, rising to his feet, "we're here to discuss Bogue, not Ms. Millie. Certainly not in front of her daughter, Masterson."

"'Bout time the girl knew-"

"You can follow in his footsteps, Jamison," I warned him lightly, lifting a cool brow and watching him pale with a sick sense of satisfaction, "keep speaking, please."

"Ms. Millie." The preacher's tone was far gentler than with Jamison, though it should've been stronger, given that I threatened a man's life in a house of God. But he knew why I had- They all knew, but they refused to see the truth for what it was. If-

The door burst open suddenly behind me, sending the lot of us jumping and turning. Men stormed into the church, armed with rifles and pistols, and my stomach churned. A skulking, sharply-dressed man stalked slowly into the room, scanning over us in disdain.

Bartholomew Bogue.

/

Please let me know what you all think! :)