All-Fired - Part II

         "Where ya been, Turner?" Isabella sat on a large boulder, fix or six feet away from where Tristan stood. She had her hair loosely pulled bck in the heat of the golding sunset, not ten degrees cooler than noontime. She bit her lip when he turned to her. Even though she'd found someone else, that small crush she first developed on him never really went away, though when he got to being himself, he frustrated her to no end... as usual.
         "The coast," Tristan kicked up some loose dirt, giving an overused reply. His arms were crossed; he'd been standing there for hours, dangerously soaked up in his thoughts.
         "Is that where the... new girl's from?" She pointed toward the house, where inside of which Lamora and Sades, now joined by Ben, were talking.
         He nodded, glancing out toward Rockell and Cheyenne over the ledge, then back at Bella. She just stared back, waiting for him to go on.
         "Oh, you didn't ask her?" Apparently Bella was the only one who hadn't asked Lamora for the story. "I just went went. I couldn't say."
         "So, you told no one, not even Mercedes, and you took nothing, not even Savvi."
         "Guess, I figured I was coming back sooner," he shrugged. Truth be told, he had to run from just about anything that would make him think of Colette. He just didn't want to remember.
         And how contradictory was that with her locket riding in his pocket?
         "A lot sooner, like a month... or three?" She smirked, having to bring up how long he'd been gone. The place seemed so empty without his ego around to fill in all the cracks.
         "Actually, yes," he half smiled, "But everytime I said it was time I should come back, I couldn't." He chewed his bottom lip, staring out at Rockwell lighting its dusty self at the base of the hills across the valley. "Then Lamora kicked me back out here at just about gun point."
         "That bad, huh?" She wanted to add: 'Baby.'
         He just glanced back at her, not wanting to answer the question. No, it wasn't that bad. It was just that two out of the four things he cared about most were destroyed in this valley. One of them had made him soft, a different man. Being a man, that wasn't acceptable when that thing was gone. And starting tomorrow, Lukas Harrison and the towns were going to see the Mustang Turner they all heard and made stories about. Their stereotypical outlaw. What they wanted out of him.
         Isabella saw the change in the face as he thought about it.
         "You're planning something," she called, leaning back slightly in the realization of it. "What?"
         "You've been around," he finally turned back to her and she nodded. "These rumors I've been hearing about Harrison, I need to know if they're true."
         "You mean the kid-"
         "And the chick."
         Isabella stood, taking her turn to step up to the ledge and look out toward the towns below the hills. "They apparently are true. I've seen the little boy. Don't quite know his name, but he looks about six or six and a half. Bright blue eyes, dark brown brown hair." She looked back at him. "He's unbelievably cute."
         Tristan's eyebrows lowered. He wasn't looking to hear that last part.
         "The woman though, his wife," she continued, "I couldn't tell you anything about her. I can only tell you what I've heard. It's said she's blonde and also blue-eyed, but a sight of her is- well, it's about as rare as your monster horse letting some stranger ride him." She smirked at the end, having spoken from experience.
         Tristan pursed his lips, nodding ever so slightly. An eyebrow raised while his attention turned to the surrounding area.
         "Andrew," he called. He didn't turn, but knew where this particular gawk was, who was never far when Tristan was around. And almost monkey-like, he dropped out of nearest tree on command.
         "Welcme back, Turner," the now twenty-something smirked smugly at Tristan, after flashing an annoying grin at Bella.
         "How'd you get along without me?" Tristan turned around, returning the cocky smile. Before he left, it seemed like the boy made himself his personal bodyguard.
         "By bugging me," Bella interrupting, going to sit on the rock again. Andrew nodded rather proudly as a follow up.
         "Need something, boss?" He stepped frward, waiting almost anxiously.
         "Yeah, you and a couple'a Gawks are going to find out his Rockwell's sheriff and mayor have anything planned in the next month or so. Preferrably big." Tristan put on a sinister tone, an excellent plan growing in his mind. Standard villian style.
         "You ain't sendin' Arrow or Gallagher?"
         The lesser known the better."
         Andrew readjusted his posture. "Seven years is a long time... How do you know I ain't as big as you yet?" He crossed his arms.
         "Andrew. Andrew, Andrew, you know I know that is not your style," Tristan shook his head. He knew his Gawks better than they would like to believe. Still, Andrew loved this kind of job and smiled widely at the opportunity.
         "What isn't his style?" Aiden was suddenly there, walking out of the nearby house.
         "Bein' known," Tristan simply replied, not turning toward him. There was suddenly a gaping silence between the four of them, awkward for Bella and Andrew, who looked between the other two and exchanged glances, and predictedly tense for Aiden and Tristan. Finally, Tristan turned around. "He's gonna help us get revenge." He chose his words carefully. And that was Andrew Nanuq's queue.Without any hesitation, he pivotted on his heels, making quick on his feet toward el Pueblo, Bella was inclined to follow. This job was easy. He didn't need anyone else's help, but probably would be a little less suspicious with more than one man on it.
         "Us?" Aiden asked after a minute, his eyebrows lowering considerably.
         "Yes, us." Tristan's raised as he nodded. More confusion from Aiden. "You know what I mean." Then Aiden made an almost scoffing noise, a mix of that and a chuckle.
         "I thought you didnt- like me- or trust me, anymore?"
         "M-hm," he nodded again, "Then I thought about it."
         "Oh, so your going to show some greater mercy on me," Aiden almost rolled his eyes. Bella kept looking back and forth between them.
         "If you want to call it that," Tristan nodded again, shrugging. 'Course he wasn't thinking of it that way exactly. And he had lied. The man hadn't given any thought to it, just was going by his oh-so-trusty Plan a la Tristan (which utilizes the make-it-up-as-you-go tactic).
         "So you want me to do something." Aiden saw it in the Big Stallion's eyes. "What?"
         "You are going to be Lukas' friend, again."
         "Again?" Aiden shook his head, not understanding the need for that five letter word. He never had been Harrison's friend.
         "M-hm," Tristan nodded again. Then Aiden crossed his arms, saying:
         "And?"
         "And, when the time comes, you are going to tell him where exactly he cane find Arriesque el Pueblo." He paused lightly before saying the name of the outlaw haven.
         "What?!" Both Aiden and Isabella shouted without skipping a beat. Tristan looked at Bella, having almost jumped hearing her voice. He forgot she was there.
         "Tristan, do you want to repeat that?" Aiden turned his head slightly. He did not just hear that request come out of Tristan's mouth.
         "Do I really need to?" He did chuckle though as he glanced back at Aiden. He almost did again at the faces of the two. "Don't worry. I'm not drunk, I'm not sick. Yes, I am Tristan Turner..." he began listing replied to the possible questions that may have been about to spew forth out of either of them.
         "Not that I care whether this measley little town exists or not," Bella interrupted, standing and stepping forward, "but isn't the secrecy of el Pueblo just about number one on the list of things most important to the Turner Canyon Brothers?" Aiden nodded.
         "Trust me, when this is all behind us, it won't matter whether the man knows or not."



         The pretty bonde stared at her reflection, pretting the ends of her long hair. It had recently been redone to keep this bright hue. She still barely recognized herself, even though it had been years since her natural hair lay over her shoulders. But she rarely looked in the mirror anymore. Her piercing blue eyes stared into her own, but she wasn't really looking at herself, nor evening thinking. She was just waiting. Everything she did was what Lukas approved or set up for her. So all she could do was wait.
         Why she let herself stay locked up for years under his rule, she didn't know. But he rarely bothered her much, except this week.
         "Alright, come on." Lukas barely acknowledged her as he opened the door then turned around once again, leaving as if it were some matter of urgency. She knew it wasn't.
         Whenever she went out, it was always in secrecy. This time, it was because Mustang Turner was supposedly back in town. She wanted to hit that outlaw so hard.
         She thought a carriage wasn't very discreet, but didn't argue her chose transport. At least she wouldn't be riding with Lukas, even though she had to be on his arm all night. Whatever this social event was, they pressured Lukas to have his woman and son with him this time. He gave in only to get them off his back. Thank God it was not a ball, for she would not dress up and be his accessory at the same time.
         Lukas took Allister with him (what she like even less than being friendly with him) in a troop that would leave at a separate time, going a separate route. She didn't understand that inner workings of that man's mind. Sending her alone in a carriage on a separate road to Baker's Hill would keep her safe from any ressurected outlaws that might be after her?
         On the road, she closed the thick curtains of the carriage door window, first glancing out at the almost barren desert. That was all she saw: sand, bushes, and sunlight. Closed up in the dark cabin, she had herself and the sounds of the loud wheels, trying not to get too caught up in her thoughts. She forced herself to think only of her son. She smiled at the thought of her only life, the only reason she truly let herself continue to stay with Lukas.
         There wasn't too much of herself in the boy, only her blue eyes. The rest was all from his father. The shade of his hair, his eyebrows, his nose- It was a shame the education he was getting from Lukas. She didn't want Allister to be as twisted as him.
         The carriage slowed, a quick shuffling heard from where the driver would have been sitting. Before she could ask what was going on, though, it picked up again at the sound of a 'yah!' It picked up a considerable amount, the cabin shaking from the speed. Oh, this was not right.
         Yet, she knew exactly what was happening.

         Tristan smiled devilishly as Ben came by with his recently commandeered vehicle. Wasn't too hard of a job for his to trade places with the original driver. He waited in the dirt for the right moment, and now the other man lay there. Easy. There also had been a couple of horsemen after the carriage, but a couple Black Riders silently did their part.
         He slowed just enough to let Tristan step up onto the step, grabbing the latch on the door.
         "Alright, Mrs. Harrison," he said as he opened it, coming to sit by the woman, "here's what we're gonna do-" He stopped when he finnaly looked at her, an odd number of expressions and emotions playing over his face at the same time. But, without missing a beat after his pause, she slapped him. Very hard. Slightly dazed and taken back, Tristan just looked at her, while the furious looking blonde glared back.
"Colette?" His eyebrows furrowed in the ultimate mix of confusion, surprise, and relief. It was not his turn to look like a ghost was in his presence.
         "No," she curled her lip, sharply turning away.
         "Oh..." Now he just looked confused. He was so sure- His mind was playing with him; he was hopeless.
         "What to you want, Turner?" She turned back, looking as firmly as she possibly could straight at him.
         "Right. Uhm," he straightened up, quickly regathering his thoughts.
         "Uhm? Did you just say uhm?" Her delicate eyebrows raised. "You are a horrible kidnapper!"
         "You deduce that from a noise," he scowled at her. "I was going to say you are the priveliged first victim since my glorious return, excluding your average bank. Congradulations."
         "Oh, yay," she went back to glaring.
         "Glare at me like that all you, sweetheart. Ain't gonna change anything." He brought out his trademark smirk. That one that could be interpretted to mean so many things.
         "Huh, I half expected doll." The blonde plopped against the wall. His smirk went away. "I mean, you already thought I was your Colette. Isn't that what you called the tart?"
         "Tart?" Tristan's eyes widened in some sort of defense. "She was hardly such a woman! It took me- ...That name was exclusive."
         "It took you what?" Her face twisted in an attmepted smirk of disgust.
         "None of your business." There were suddenly glaring at eachother. He for her ruining the day. She for his mere presence. She didn't know if she'd rather be in the middle of that troop of Lukas' right now.
         "So why'd you run off in the first place?"
         "You know you're a very nosy woman."
         "Coward." She crossed her arms.
         "I left for reasons of my own. It doesn't concern you in any way, shape, or form." His crossed as well.
         "You'd be surprised." Her eyebrows narrowed scrutinizingly. "Wether it concerns me or not, women don't take kindly to being ditched when things get rough."
         "She was dead," he grit his teeth.
         The blonde looked away, to the carriage wall, unable to watch his face change any more. Even though he was masked pretty well with anger, he was now doing his damnedest to hide a pain there. It was uncomfortable.
         "Was she..." She spoke barely above a whisper.
         "Then where the hell were you?!" She abruptly turned back, her voice suddenly acid-laced as she raised it. Something snapped. "Where on this earth were you? Before she died? Then he killed her. So you just ran away? What kind of man are you? I shoud've known you wouldn't be better than this! I should have shot you the first chance I had. Save me the goddam trouble!" She was fuming, avoiding the tears that demanded to well, never mind the accent that slipped through.
         A deafening silence filled the cabin. The blonde stared- glared at him, eyebrows and lips downturned. Tristan just stared back, however, blank. All trace of anything or any comprehension drained his face. It may have even turned white.
         "Your gunpowder was wet," he simply mumbled.
More silence.
         Tristan's mind had come to a loud and screeching halt as he tried to fathom the moment. Colette was dead. That was established years ago. Not-Colette was Colette. That mean... for these seven long years... His head was spinning. He should be unbelievably overjoyed, or showing it. And whether she'd accept it or not, he should attack her with a long wanted kiss to make up for it all. But he was frozen, unable to move as if concrete had just hardened over him.
         "Everything cool?" A peek through the curtain as Ben pushed is aside with his sarcasm made them both realize the carriage had stopped. Turner Bothers could be heard not to far away.
         "You just kidnapped the first lady of Rockwell. Do you think everything's 'cool?'" She played the part well, sending another glare Ben's way, who gave a coy grin in return, dropping the curtain.
         "So, what were you going to do," she looked back at Tristan, "once you succesfully had Lukas Harrison's wife?"
         What was h going to do? Tristan doesn't think that far ahead!
         "Well- keep her in here for a little while, then-"
         "Alright," she crossed her legs, keeping the most distant appearance she could muster. "See you 'round." He watched her for the longest of moments, trying to see what she was aiming for. "We'll talk later," she finalized, cooly waving her hand for him to leave.
         And strangely enough, against all his instinct, personality, will, and judgement, he obeyed. Then again, he had to.
         Colette McKendric had just returned from the dead.