To Bargain With Grief

The world around them seems to glow as the sun shines through the canopy of treetops. Gone are the snow-covered shacks and the howling wind that bit them the morning before. Instead, the ground is popping with green heads of harebells and poppies. Insects, thawed by the rising warmth of day, bounce from petal to petal, feasting on the newly budding flowers. Birds whistle, practising to woo pretty swallows and jays come spring. Little bumps of velvet sprout from the crown of proud bucks as they prance through the forest, clashing together like unruly boys given wooden swords.

Spring is close; the air is crisp with the smell of life as the cycle of seasons starts anew.

And yet, Ripley misses all that surrounds her. Her gaze is locked to her gloved hands that hold onto the horn of her saddle. The night came and went without a single respite, but not without complaint. When the sun began its descend, the group were worn and bed-ready, with the thought of a warm fire and food in their bellies ripe in their mind. They waited for the word to camp up, but it never came as Jake continued to lead them onwards. The teenagers of the group watched him with hopeful eyes, that soon settled into their laps as they realised that they were going to ride through the night.

Ripley was the last to calm, the lack of sleep tugging at her patience. Complaints rolled from her as easy as rain fell from grey laden clouds. Though, even they dwindled until silence fell over the group as dawn rose and rose until the sun was at it’s brightest.

And now the hours pass by as though they don’t exist. Ripley squeezes her hands against the horn, feeling the edges of it poking through the material of her gloves. Anything to feel alive when death felt so heavy. It tugged at her; the lack of sleep, the impending doom that’s waiting for them, their future dangling uncertainly once Jake was gone. It leaves her mind fogged and overwhelmed.

It’s the sound of her name and a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back into the seat of her saddle that roses her from her daze.

“-ight?”

Ripley shakes herself awake; sleep having held her for only a few seconds. She didn’t remember closing her eyes.

“I’m fine.” The words mumble from her as though her mouth is stuffed with cotton.

“Do you need to sit down?” Jake’s says. She finds comfort in his timbre.

“No.”

Silence.

“I hate you.” The words are echoes of ideas she needs to feel but doesn’t. She says them anyway, her bottom lip trembling.

It hadn't been easy for Isabella, swallowing her grief and disguising the anguish in her eyes when Jake took her aside for a heart to heart. She had been there herself once, not so long ago, just as willing to sacrifice herself for someone she loved.

The odd feeling of serenity that came with her decision to let fate take its course, she'd seen the same thing in Jake that morning. A fortitude, a conviction that he was doing the right thing, even if it meant he wouldn't see another sunrise.

His nobility, his composure in the face of his own mortality, it had made her furious because she knew there was no talking him out of it.

It's why she grits her teeth and snatches the reins out of Ripley's hands, yanking on them to coax Goose into following her. Jake looks like as though he's just been sucker-punched in the stomach, and Isabella flashes him a look that promises she'll take care of everything.

"What're you doin'?" Ripley complains, but there's no fight in her voice. She simply grips the horn of her saddle, allowing herself to be lead away.

Isabella lets the rest of the convoy pass them by before spurring on Paloma again, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snarls. "I heard you. So did Jake."

Ripley hitches a shoulder, a picture of indifference. "That was the point."

Isabella's hands ball into fists, and she smothers the urge to slug the petulant teenager across the face. "Hasn't he been through enough? Why do you always have to make everything so much harder than it needs to be?"

"Why're you always so quick to jump to his defense?" Ripley counters. "He's a grown ass man, he can fight his own battles."

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Isabella exhales through her mouth. "Because he's family. That's what you do for family."

"Ain't I family?"

Their eyes meet, and despite herself, Isabella's stern expression softens. "Of course you are. And if someone was lashing out at you the way you're lashing out at Jake, I'd do something about it."

Ripley looks away; Isabella pretends not to notice the tears in her eyes.

"What's going on with you, Ripley? Why are you so angry with him?"

“It's nothing.”

She spent her thirteenth year waiting for her parents to return home. Staring at a white-faced door, listening for the gaggle of keys and the plastered fake smiles of her parents.

“Ripley.”

Her seventh, she listened to the way the saloon steps creaked under Mae’s red boots; watched her hair as it tumbled down her back with a flick of her wrist, fell in love with her eyes dark but warm that twinkled a promise of later.

“I’m fine.”

Her eighteenth, she felt a mixture of betrayal, grief, loss all at the hands of The Madam. She felt thirteen again; her trust broken into tiny pieces and tossed out into the wind.

“You’re not. Ripley, talk to me.”

Jake.

“I can’t lose someone else!” Her voice scratches at the back of her throat. Goose tries to burst forward, Ripley’s anger channelling down the reins, but she wheels him back beside Paloma. “You want to know why I always make everything so hard? Because this is hard for me!” She doesn’t care about whispering, or whether Leanna’s men and the others can hear her. “This is all I have.”

“And I can’t lose it…, and yet.” She gestures to the path they’re on with Jake at the head of the group, waiting for that guillotine.

“We’ll fig-.”

“Figure something out?” Ripley scoffs. “What? After or before Jake’s dead?”

“Don’t you think I’m hurting too? Don’t you think Jake’s hurting in all this?” Isabella’s breath catches. “We’re all hurting, Ripley.”

“But you have Leon.” Ripley can’t help the bitterness that lingers in her voice. “When this is all over, you’ll still have him. Where do I go when this is all over?”

“You’ll still have us. Nothing changes.”

“I might have believed you once. But everything always changes. We’re one big happy family until when? Until Jake’s six feet under? Until Mia and Yuliy lose their kids to Leanna’s men? Until either you or Leon are killed on this goddamn train? You think Leon’s still gonna be himself if Valerie gets killed? Huh? What then? We still one happy family?” She blows a curl out of face. “It’s always the fucking same.”

She wonders in that moment, how many times someone can say goodbye before it stops hurting?

“Sometimes…it’s easier being alone. Not to care. To push away everyone who tries to get close.” She looks up and meets Isabella’s eyes, her own vision blurred. “But I care.”

The day she met him, locked away in a dingy cell in the heart of Saint Denis. A ghost of a man, who haunted himself. There was a story about him, she could tell. He was a man worth knowing about. And in return for her curiosity, she found friendship, love and a future.

“I don’t think I’ll survive losing another person I love.” And that single truth gives birth to all that she’s been holding back. Hunched over her saddle, she buries her face into her gloved hands, smothering her heart breaking.

For all the chaos and unpredictability that Ripley represents, there's always been something about her that feels carefully curated to Isabella. For a spitfire of a young woman who never thinks about what she says before she says it, who never asks for anyone's permission, who carries herself around like she's ten feet tall, she takes careful, meticulous measures to hide the parts of herself that are vulnerable.

It's jarring to see her laid so raw and bare, sobbing into her palms and shrinking into her saddle. The outburst draws the attention of a few of Leanna's men, who wheel their mounts around and bark at them to keep moving.

It spurs a stunned Isabella into action, snatching up Ripley's reins again and leading Goose behind Paloma. "You will survive this, Ripley," she whispers over her shoulder.

"You don't know that."

"I do. Because Jake will kick your ass from one end of the afterlife to the other if you just give up."

Ripley scoffs and swipes at her nose with her glove. "You ain't funny."

"I'm not trying to be."

Keeping her gaze fixed on their chaperones, she watches to make sure they aren't eavesdropping on the conversation. "What about the rest of us?"

Ripley puzzles at the question, and Isabella doesn't have to look at her to read the confusion on her face. "What about you?"

"You think we want to lose two of you to this? That if both you and Jake are gone, we'll just think of you as collateral damage, or something?" A swell of emotion chokes off Isabella's words, and she allows herself a beat of silence or two to compose herself. "You're just as much a part of this family as anyone else. Losing you will hurt, too."

Ripley doesn't answer, her blurry field of vision reduced to the tangles in Goose's mane.

"I fucked up once and it cost me a sister," Isabella adds. Her voice warbles, and she doesn't try to disguise it. "I'm not letting that happen again."

In that moment, Ripley wishes they were far away from the mountains, back in the little barn she called home for the past two years. She wishes for the quiet nights the two women spent under watchful stars, talking about nonsense over a bottle of whiskey.

She wishes for time.

Because there’s never enough of it. Youth seems forever, especially when the world’s problems are tackled by those older than you. The burden of pain, loss, fear is wrapped in a soft blanket they put over your shoulder. Though, Ripley knows all about losing everything, wondering if she’d wake the next morning, wondering if the stranger with the too big smile would hang her coat or hang her neck. Adulthood came too early.

And then Jake came with his vigour and benevolence, allowing a fraction of time to feel safe. Followed by Yuliy and Valerie who allowed her to laugh, to feel youth instead of weariness in her bones. Then came Isabella who gave her a world of sisterhood she never knew she wanted. Leon and Mia came next with wisdom and warmth she never knew adults had.

They gave her time to be young. And she wishes for more. To relive the moments. To make new ones. But time doesn’t stop for anyone, not even for girls who wish.

Ripley nudges Goose onwards until they’re riding side by side. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

They share a glance at each other, grieved by a future that is uncertain but held together as best as it can by love.

It’s only then that they’ll pulled out of their moment by a series of curses and the neighing of a frustrated equine. They see Faith as she struggles with her mount, wrestling control as it tries to wander off towards a greener patch of grass.

“Stop.” Faith tugs on the reins, trying to lead her mountain of a horse back with the group. “Please, just listen to me.”

“She’s not like the rest of Leanna’s men.” Isabella muses, side-eying Ripley who watches nervously.

“Because she’s not,” Ripley replies, tucking a curl behind her ear. Once again, it pops out of place. “She’s a hostage just as much as we are. Leanna took her when fleeing Blackwater, where Jake handed her over for hanging.”

“You know her, don’t you?” Isabella asks, a smile breaking through at the look of shock on Ripley. “Your poker face could use some work.”

Meekly and avoiding Isabella’s knowing glance, Ripley begins picking at the leather on the saddle, her eyes downcast.

“She’s the girl I met at the saloon in Valentine.”

“She’s the Faith?”

A blush reddens Ripley’s cheeks, confirming Isabella’s suspicion.

“Guess I should have asked for her address, huh? Number 666 at Evil Lady Who Wants Revenge on Jake Avenue, Colter.” Ripley’s shoulders slump, but a smile flickers over her as Isabella laughs before it fades, a thought crossing over her.

“Did she know?”

“No.” Ripley stamps out the thoughts. “Not like she had a choice. Just like we don’t have one.”

They watch, wincing, as Faith’s horse rears at a hard kick, dumping Faith into an ill-placed puddle. It’s all it takes for Ripley to nudge Goose forward, ignoring Isabella’s protest.

“You okay?” She asks, offering Faith a hand. The other girl stares at it, droplets of puddle water dripping from her hair.

“We ain’t supposed to be seen together.” Faith whispers, nervously looking back at Leanna’s men like a mouse caught in a hawk’s sight. “If Leanna finds out when we get back.”

“I don’t know if there’s a coming back from this to worry about.” Ripley continues to hold out her hand until Faith takes it, hauling her up onto her feet and up onto the seat behind Ripley. Faith’s arms wrap around her waist sending a crimson streak across Ripley’s cheeks.

“Do you really think we won’t make it back?” Faith asks.

Ripley looks back at Isabella, her words milling inside her head.

Don't lose hope. Sometimes that's all we've got.

“If we do, would you consider a third date with me?” Ripley asks, tossing out her fears and instead throws a smile at the girl behind her. It earns her a laugh and Faith’s arms tightening around her middle.

“I’d like that.”