[ He learned his lesson from last time, knows Emma Cullen does not take well to flirtatious compliments, so while there’s a wry tilt to his smile, he keeps his eyes fixed on the tree in the distance as he approaches.
She’s an interesting woman, Emma Cullen, all fire and determination, with an eagle-eyed focus Faraday has only seen a handful of times before – and only then in the types of men whose paths one should never cross twice. Takes a lot of balls to do what she’s done, to journey out to find warriors to defend her little town. He wonders who she must have imagined she would find when she first rode out. Knights, maybe, like from the stories about King Arthur. Fine, upstanding men with heavenly light shining behind them, for whom honor and decency was the norm and not a suggestion. He wonders what she must think, how she must feel, when all her money could get her were killers and oddities.
Maybe after this, they could put together some sort of circus freak show, make a quick buck.
Assuming any of them lived.
Sunlight beats down on the back of his neck despite the wide brim of his hat, and he feels a bead of sweat roll down to the collar of his shirt. The grass whispers around his legs as he steps up beside her, his thumbs hooked over his gun belt. That first day when he saw her firing a rifle, part of him had been surprised. He’s seen more than a few men and women carting around firearms with no earthly clue how to use them, who expect the presence alone of a weapon would protect them – and truth to tell, he expected the same of Emma. So few people realize that carrying a gun means that, one day, they’ll be expected to use it. ]
no subject
[ He learned his lesson from last time, knows Emma Cullen does not take well to flirtatious compliments, so while there’s a wry tilt to his smile, he keeps his eyes fixed on the tree in the distance as he approaches.
She’s an interesting woman, Emma Cullen, all fire and determination, with an eagle-eyed focus Faraday has only seen a handful of times before – and only then in the types of men whose paths one should never cross twice. Takes a lot of balls to do what she’s done, to journey out to find warriors to defend her little town. He wonders who she must have imagined she would find when she first rode out. Knights, maybe, like from the stories about King Arthur. Fine, upstanding men with heavenly light shining behind them, for whom honor and decency was the norm and not a suggestion. He wonders what she must think, how she must feel, when all her money could get her were killers and oddities.
Maybe after this, they could put together some sort of circus freak show, make a quick buck.
Assuming any of them lived.
Sunlight beats down on the back of his neck despite the wide brim of his hat, and he feels a bead of sweat roll down to the collar of his shirt. The grass whispers around his legs as he steps up beside her, his thumbs hooked over his gun belt. That first day when he saw her firing a rifle, part of him had been surprised. He’s seen more than a few men and women carting around firearms with no earthly clue how to use them, who expect the presence alone of a weapon would protect them – and truth to tell, he expected the same of Emma. So few people realize that carrying a gun means that, one day, they’ll be expected to use it. ]
Your daddy teach you this, too?