Chapter Twenty-Two
The sun was clearing the horizon by the time a glowing Lisabet presented Dean Winchester at the table, so breakfast was hearty but perforce hurried. Sam had been down almost twenty minutes, his fine turn-out making him again the picture of a Western lawman in dignity and elegance. Marie-Rose added yet another item to her list of surprising things: she would have thought Dean Winchester would appear groggy, sated, barely able to stand, instead of frolicsome and high-spirited and starving, singing down the stairs, kissing her hand, and slapping Sam heartily on the back. Well, the starving was expected: he assaulted his tucker with vigor.
He fussed at Sam for picking at his food, and proceeded to criticize his brother's haberdashery as "pantywaist," till Marie-Rose pointed out that Sam was on his third plate and asked if Dean were offended at their bad manners for not waiting till he came down and should they be saying grace first? Sam made a churchman's superior face that had the women giggling, and Dean smoothly siderailed to complimenting the cooking, which Sam soundly supported. Dean went on to rave of the accommodations and appointments of the Astoria, particularly the appointments, most especially and egregiously the appointments, and bemoaned having a brother too feeble and bookish to properly appreciate those appointments and wasn't that a sad, sad thing? Sam took a serious long time buttering a biscuit and the girls looked at her, and looked at Sam, but she held her peace.
Dean's eyes showed a rascally sparkle that was as contagious as his singing, but what made Marie-Rose smile was Sam's pompous fraudery: he'd steal a glance at Dean then look away, the Puritan disapproval unable to veil the delight at his brother's manifest happiness. Thus they spoke of Tully, and Willam, and Buell, other words about the future of the town, but, despite promises of the previous night, the conversation strolled only along sunny paths.
But then it was time.
The clock was ringing out six and O'Malley already had two horses saddled out front: a borrowed horse for Sam, and Dean's own Blackie. Dean sprang up, grabbed his kit, calling for Sam to get a move on, and stepped outside. The girls stood as well. Sam took up his satchel, followed more leisurely. He glanced about, noting everyone else otherwise occupied, and started to speak to Marie-Rose. She was looking at Dean, come to a sudden halt on the portico, his attention fixed upon something down the road. Sam followed her gaze, and stepped out to stand beside Dean and look in the same direction. Marie-Rose was going to reach for the shotgun, but she noted they were showing no distress, just observing. She went out herself.
The full-up sun was throwing brilliant diamond light across the town and the land beyond. The heather aster and prairie clover, sparkling from the rain, made vivid blotches of spilled purple and green across the variegated topaz browns of the plains stretching out till forever. A crisp and cool breeze carried the scent of new grass and wet loamy earth around and through the water-splotched buildings. She sometimes wished she were a romantic or superstitious person, so she could see cloud-dotted sky and clean air as a sign of renewal and the dawning of a new day for Gilead, but she was not such a person, and if she looked eastward and saw a rainbow she'd go back for the shotgun after all. She reminded herself to have O'Malley check the roof for leaks. She scanned the landscape to see what had attracted their observation. A pair of grouse skittered across the muddy ruts and puddles of the road. Long aways off in the bean field the windmill was creaking around as usual. She couldn't see a thing to engage their rapt interest. The brothers were standing side-by-side, one more inch and Sam's chin would set on Dean's shoulder, both enthralled and silent, there's a wonder, eyes wide.
"Wow," Sam said. His eyes reflected the dew on the grass.
"Good day to be alive," murmured Dean. He drew in a long, deep, lung-filler breath. A moment longer drinking it in, and they set to saddling up.
Marie-Rose bit her lip. Given her druthers, she'd be pleased to just have the slap across the face, thank you very much. Marie-Rose stood with Dean as he checked his tack. His cap was in place, his fringed jacket buttoned, his tomahawk hung across his back. Lisabet and Clara said their goodbyes to Sam.
"We'll have to leave the horses. They'll be there tomorrow, unless…"
"Unless you come back on them."
Dean nodded, jaw tense at the thought, grateful she didn't ask him to explain the unexplainable.
"Tully will be right broke up that he couldn't say his goodbyes," Marie-Rose said.
"He's a good kid. Tell him… not to grow up too fast." A rueful twinge in his jaw even as he said it.
"I'll tell him you thought well of him. That will chuff him up something fierce, I can attest," Marie-Rose said. He smiled a little, as she thought he might. Dean shook hands with O'Malley and went over to Lisabet and Clara as Sam came to Marie-Rose.
"You'll have to ride hard to make Divinity Falls by sundown." Marie-Rose handed Sam two packets with the food they'd prepared. He set to securing them in his saddlebag. Dean addressed himself to Lisabet and Clara.
"Ladies…" He spoke no further, but let his eyes speak of memories held treasured in the heart that spoken aloud would sully them, and let that wicked, willful smile intimate of secret places touched and carnal depths plumbed that spoken aloud would cause the blue sky to blush pink. He took Lisabet by the hand and set the other to the back of her neck and kissed her in the way that tells a woman she's been soundly, thoroughly, meaningfully kissed, and then whispered something in her ear that caused her to nicker and flush, an astonishment, and then he kissed the hand he held. It seemed to Marie-Rose that his eyes held some apology, Lisabet's some melancholy, but perhaps that was herself just feeling sentimental. He moved to Clara to repeat the performance, who accepted his gratitude with more composure. He plucked his kerchief out of his back pocket, and knotted it around his neck, eyes again fixed on Lisabet. He raised his voice, turning toward Marie-Rose.
"Thanks for everything, Miss Rose, you run a fine establ—" He halted, eyes going wide in disbelief. It had likely been his intention to favor Marie-Rose with one of those toe-curling kisses as well, but her dance card was full: she was fully engaged by Sam Winchester. No fear from those mighty arms now; he was free to run the fingers of one hand to tangle up her hair and the other down to the base of her spine so to bear her body entire against his. He inhaled deep her scent, exhaled a zephyr of breath across her face, touching moth-flutter soft his cheek to hers then pressed their lips softly, deeply, earnestly together, no adolescent mashing or vulgar tongues, calling halt to all measures of time but their own heartbeats. A pang like a church bell rang through her, and she felt an unlovely spike of pure envy for the woman, who and wherever she may be, that would one day brave the tempest, cross the storm-lashed sea and lasso this splendid stallion.
His eyes were open as he released her, his fingertips lingering on her cheeks, and not a word did he speak as he drank in her face, her eyes. He turned to his horse and mounted smoothly. As Dean stood with some little noises dribbling out of his mouth, Sam flicked his spurs and set his mount to a canter down the road. Not a backward glance, as was proper. Marie-Rose watched emotions fight for dominance across Dean Winchester's face: surprise, protectiveness, a little temper, and, as he hurriedly leapt to his own saddle, hesitant as he was entire unsure, gratitude.
"Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand."
The song he took up rang clear and loud in the clean air. Sam was already clear of the town when Dean hee-yahhed Blackie to such as a gallop as she was able, and the ladies waved at their backs.
"I don't care, I'm still free. You can't take the sky from me…"
O'Malley had already gone back into the Astoria, but there the women waited, as was proper, watching the two ride into the sea of sun-washed sage till they fell from sight.
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