I cannot believe it's been 2 whole years since I updated…

Pennsylvania, 1888

Pennsylvania was a beautiful place I reckoned even if I were not in the mood to enjoy it. The rolling hills and heavy forests made me think of home and set me to moping more often than what was surely proper as I went about what passed for house work up here. No sink to scrub in, no lines to hang on, no floor to sweep. I huffed lowly, nearly fumbling my armful of modest eating wear as I made my way towards Big Muncy Creek. Will and Jim were out hunting.

To my back went the sun and the site of our tiny little shack, no more than what Johnse housed himself in at his drip. Flung together with haste and disregard as a means to a quick stop for the night before we continued further into Thacker Mountain. Not much but two travel rolls laid inside where William and I would lay, heads covered from the elements by a tattered sheet. Jim had a sleeping bag about thirty paces off where he would no doubt be warmer with the heat of his dog cuddled in with him. William and mine's travel rolls had about a foot of space between them. I was not yet ready to lay flush beside him again.

We'd fled West Virginia.

William, Jim, and I.

Already so far into the mountains were we that to continue up and over seemed only natural as we ran from the atrocities they had committed on New Year's morning. The other men folk fled in other directions, Uncle Anse taking over our cabin for now since he could sincerely say he had not played a hand in the attack other than the planning. Cotton stayed with him and my cousins, under the belief no one would truly think such a simple boy had murdered Alifair McCoy.

It had been hard to leave my brother behind, every part of my body screaming that the separation was unnatural, but I couldn't risk him coming along. Of the entire family Jim and Will were the most wanted currently and it was plain as day that anyone standing between them and a bounty hunter was bound to get hurt. This fact was what made it hard for my cousins to see me go, Nancy especially clinging to me hard as William grabbed only what could be carried and told us to say goodbye.

As I picked my way carefully along the mountainside I recalled my cousin's final words to me, pale hand gripped in her freckled one as I leaned down from the back of Will's saddle to hear her.

"Don't be afraid to run, Abi," she'd whispered, voice just this side of frantic as her mother ushered her away with a reassuring hold. She had melted back into the throng of our kin then, face lost among ones that resembled it so greatly, so I never got a chance to respond. I prayed throughout our hard ride that I one day would.

That had been a whole night and days ride before.

I could hear the creek not far off along with the whiny of Jack, Will's horse who we kept tethered along with Jim's a ways away from our sleeping area so they would not attract to our immediate location. Jim had taught me that this also served as a sort of impromptu alarm system since the horses would spook as soon as anyone unknown approached. I had absorbed the information with not more than a dry hum to let my uncle know I had heard him. I was not ready to speak with him again.

Jack's proud black head swung in my direction as I cleared the brush, our plates from our humble midday meal held in the crook of my elbow. Jim's own gray mare, Franny, spared me a brief glance before turning back to where she was grazing on the cool grass sprouting up from the edge of the creek. The bambling of the water muffled the sound of their shuffling hooves and I approached not concerned someone may hear. We'd come so far after all.

"Hey, boy," I greeted, reaching up my free hand to pat his neck lightly. Their saddles were up by the camp so that their contents could not be raided. "How are we today?"

The proud beast shook his mane out and let me pass to the water's edge where I squatted down with a huff, my lower back pained even from the short journey. The creek was not riding high yet, the waters still frozen somewhere up in the main river, and further down I could see an area far less wooded, sun filtering in to glint off the water. I was not allowed to go there. Too visible.

I made quick work of gathering a handful of decent sized river rocks and organizing them in a circle. Water still washed through and over the arrangement and I set our plates, cups, and my lone fork down within the stone. Secured there the dishes were washed naturally by the flow of the water and I sighed as I lowered myself fully to my rear, wiping my chilly wet hands on my dress. The only one I had with me.

It had been a tensely quiet few days between my husband, uncle, and I. I'd not uttered one word to William since I had declared my intention to follow him into the mountains and Jim Vance was proving smarter than he looked as he gave me a wide berth for most of the trip. The two had spoke amongst themselves at first, but after a handful of pitiful attempts by Will to loop me into the proceedings, he too had grown quiet. Whether in solidarity or shame I was not sure and I did not care.

I was still sick over what had happened on New Year's and I could scarcely look my cousin in the eye. My love and loathing for him raged so furiously within my body that on and off throughout our riding I had felt as if I may heave over the side of the saddle. Truly there were times close in his presence when I felt bile start to rise in my jaw and I had to swallow it, and my grimace, down with a godlike effort. My bouts of crying were even worse.

But I had chosen to ride beside him and my decision would not change until death did us part. That was my duty to him as a wife; as a friend. Not as a Hatfield for I hardly considered myself one anymore. Before our departure I'd made a brief and sincere apology to my uncle for what I had said, but spoke it plain that the things I had witnessed in this feud had shaken me to my God-fearing core and I did not know if I could continue to watch on in silence let alone encouragement.

He'd weakly muttered that he understood.

And then asked me to recall what William had done for my father.

My breath hitched, the sound hidden under a slap of water indicating a fish nearby, as a shiver ran down my spine. Being reminded of my pa's murder -and the gruesome act I had requested of my husband in it's wake- at such a vulnerable time was jarring and I'd fled the devil's presence without another word. For I knew he was right and that I was not as innocent in all this as I wanted to paint myself. Nor was my husband. Or my brother. Or my father for that matter. We'd all sinned and been sinned against and I felt my uncle's request was asking me who was I to act as if I were above it all. Had I not demanded the blood of retribution just as he had on New Year's?

Was I only mighty if it suited me?

The thought had been driving me mad ever since, a greater cause for my silence than even my anger. The idea that I was just as involved and sullied as any Hatfield in this feud was terrifying. The idea that I had not seen this as the truth of it humbling.

Was I only bright if it suited me?

I groaned lowly as another wave of nausea hit me, my heavy mind making my stomach churn. Jack whinied behind me, massive snout dipped low to sniff at my braid. I could only imagine what I smelled like after days of riding and no private place to bathe and clean clothes to change into. My hair definitely needed tending. I swatted him away with a sigh, one hand clutching my gut as I took to my knees and prepared to reach into the creek. The dishes were clean now.

Off in the distance a shot rang out.

I glanced up only briefly, figuring Will and Jim had finally found something worth the fire it would take to cook it.

Another shot.

Unlike William to miss, but I reasoned Jim was also hunting and grabbed a cup, shaking the water from it roughly.

Another shot.

I paused.

Another shot.

Several. Going all at once.

Tin and wood clattered to the ground as I quickly took to my feet, heart thundering as I stumbled briefly into the water. Stood in the middle of the creek, I turned each direction, knowing already that the shooters were too far away to be seen, but trying to gauge what direction the sound of gunfire was coming from. It was difficult with the way it echoed over the mountain, but the lower barking of dogs traveled less wildly and I soon had my heading.

Sloshing through the water, dishware left to float away or be trampled, I approached Jack and did my best to make soothing noises as I grabbed and untethered his bridle. The great animal huffed and stomped and generally made a fuss, the continuous din of a gunfight putting him on edge, but eventually I was able to bring him under my control and swung myself up onto his ginormous back. No saddle. No time.

Smacking his flank roughly I rode back the way I had come, Jack's heavy hooves making quick work of the hill I had descended in leaps and bounds. It was hard staying astride with no saddle, my dress making the task even more difficult, but I squeezed my legs tightly around the horse, heels digging into his sides as we reached flatter land. I slowed us only briefly as we passed by my sad little shack, reaching down to grab my rifle from where it lay propped near the makeshift entrance. I clutched it awkwardly to my chest using the same hand I had my mount's reigns fisted in. My other handed continued to slap at his rear as we set off at a grueling pace straight towards the sounds of shooting which had not ceased.

As I rode, braid slapping against my back and teeth absolutely slamming together, I thought of William. I thought of my little cousin, somewhere between hay and grass, with his chest puffed up to defend me and Cotton on Election Day as children. I thought of a proud wisp of a boy, bandage over his eye which he only removed to read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland to me. I thought of the Devil's fearsome son riding in to save me at dawn, and of my husband crying at the death of his best friend as I clung to his back trying to comfort him.

I thought of all this.

And thought of the way I had treated him as of late.

Had I had time I'm sure I would have stopped and truly lost my lunch from how ill I felt. For I knew I could not bare to live without William and yet I had been so cold to him during what may very well end up being some of our last conversations. I had nearly betrayed him and everything we'd built because of my own pride and now I was at risk of losing him. Tears flew off my face in the wind, my cheeks feeling like they had been cut with ice. I sent up a solemn oath to my Lord and savior that if William and I survived this day I would rededicated myself wholeheartedly to my duties as a wife and never doubt or forsake my beloved husband again.

I had to save William.

I would save him.

I continued to fly towards the sounds of danger and was soon close enough to hear the garbled shouting of men. I was sure I would be able to pick my Uncle Jim''s voice out of the crowd, but my heart only searched for William. I was sure he would not be far. As a bullet split a branch not far from me I pulled Jack to a painful halt, thin fingers tight in his reins and mane as he reared up on his hind legs. His loud neigh was no doubt heard up the mountain and I managed to turn him, his heavy hooves shaking the Earth as I redirected us to run parallel to the gunfight. The McCoys would be coming in a line, I knew that much, and I hefted up my rifle prepared to shoot them down.

Just as I had turned in the saddle, throwing my hair out of my eyes to face the fray, someone stumbled out of the brush some fifty yards ahead of me. Turning forward, ready to surrender them beneath Jack's hooves, I gasped as I recognized my husband.

"WILL!"

He stumbled and fell and I realized with a cry that he was injured, his body hunched low over his shoulder which he appeared to be clutching in pain. If he heard my call, he did not respond as he slumped down to the ground, propped slightly by the hill he had just fallen down. I rode towards him, fight forgotten until another figured ran onto the path. I was near upon them when I realized it was James McCoy, looking murderous and with a rifle aimed at William's lowered head.

"NO!"

God could not have gotten an answer from me on how I managed it, but as I came up on James and William I flung myself from Jack's back, my skirts billowing around me as I landed hard on my feet, barely stumbling as I got a proper hold on my rifle. James froze as he heard the deadly sound of it cocking and by the time he looked up I had it aimed at his face. William was only a foot or so off to my right, breathing heavily and looking like he did not truly believe I was there.

"Don't move," I ground out, stifling my labored breathing beneath a tight chest and locked jaw. "Don't you fuckin' dare move."

"Abigail, get outta here!"

"Listen to you husband, Mounts," James advised, hands up slightly now, rifle no longer held as if he meant to shoot it. "We just want your menfolk. I don't kill women like some people."

His insult was obvious and I squared my shoulders further, not even glancing over as I heard Will groan and call the man a 'lousy prick' into the dirt. I could tell he was in agony from how he had not yet plucked himself up from the ground or even tried to raise his gun to defend himself. His breathing was coming in short, labored gasps. My biggest worry was that he was bleeding out there and then, but I could not tend to him. I would not take my eyes off James.

"You're not gettin' my husband," I growled, knuckles white in their grip as I steadied James with a deadly serious glare. He returned it just as fiercely and I could see his jaw ticking away as further up the hill the clamber started to die down. I thought briefly of Jim.

"This is bigger than you, Abigail," James bit out, voice deeper now than it even had been all those years ago when his brothers had kidnapped me and Johnse. "You don't have to be a part of it."

"This is my family," I seethed, hot tears of anger pooling in my eyes but refusing to fall. A shame boiled in my tummy as I recalled how carelessly I had tried to throw the title of Hatfield away. "I will not stand by as you come for them."

The man looked unmoved, the hat he wore casting his face into shadow as he looked down at William. I kept my eyes on him, not willing to risk anything. A whiny not far from my left told me Jack had returned probably having run until realizing his rider was gone. His large feet stomping the ground cut the silence eerily. There was no more shooting from above. James glanced back up at me.

"But would you kill a man?" he scoffed, moving as if to grab Willam's ankle. I aimed quick and fired. The ground just between his feet exploded, dirt and leaves kicking up into his face as he backpedaled looking honestly shocked. The shot echoed around the mountain. I recocked my rifle.

"If it suited me."

I instructed the eldest McCoy son to toss his rifle down the slope, listening as it clambered off over rocks and leaves. I made him back track up the path, away from us so that I could keep an eye on him as I ushered Jack over. No one had come for him yet and I guessed they figured my lonesome shot was the sound of Cap Hatfield being executed. I shuddered, a cold sweat sticking all over my body as I finally squatted down beside Will, James still in my site.

"William?"

My voice was shaking.

"I'll make it."

His was too.

At what felt like a sinfully slow pace I was able to get him standing and supported on Jack's heaving side. The poor thing was being run ragged. I winced at having to leave him to maneuver up onto the horse's back alone with no saddle and a bad arm, but I had to keep aim at James who was watching our proceedings with a cold resignation. It had been years since I'd seen him and this hardly reminded me of the person I had known that night, but I supposed we had all changed.

When Will was finally situated and told me he was able to hold his own gun on James I turned to pull myself up behind him.

"You know," the McCoy raised his voice slightly to be heard from the distance I had set him off at. I flinched, hearing others approach as I grabbed onto the back of Will's coat for leverage. "I can tell why my brother liked you so much, Abigail."

I paused, not managing to hide my surprise as I whipped my head around to James. I heard William cock is gun in clear annoyance, but only stared at the sadly smiling man. Deep down I knew I felt truly sorry for him. Four brothers dead and a sister gone with them. And to lose Calvin the way he had I'm sure was truly traumatic. Knowing he could not be there to save his siblings and mother. I cast my eyes down.

"I am sorry about Calvin," I said only just loud enough to be heard at the distance. I pulled myself up behind Will, not commenting as he subtly passed me Jack's reigns, the blood from his shoulder already soaking down his front and side.

"I wasn't talkin' about Calvin."

I caught the McCoy's eyes over my husband's shoulder in confusion and the stony gaze I got back reminded me suddenly of flaming red hair and a booming voice and a jaw grinding itself to ruin as I ground my gun into its owner's head. I gasped, hiding the sound in William's coat as he finally turned us away. I had not thought of Tolbert in so long and as I threw one last look over my shoulder and caught James looking after me I realized he had not either. That he had buried the painful memories of his dead kin six feet under with them and to bring this up to me now had cost him something. I turned away.

Will was leaning forward heavily, only kept from falling by Jack's wide neck, but every dip and jump in the ride made me worry and I held him tightly, trying to steer Jack at the same time. Blood was leaking through the back of my husband's coat and put my chin over his shoulder.

"Jim?" I breathed into his ear.

He shook his head.

He was fading fast.

"Where do we go?"

"Home."

The word was groaned and sounded no more certain than I felt, but I told him alright. I told him to rest and that I was there and I wasn't going away and to just rest. Whole body aching something fierce I set a wild coarse for West Virginia.