Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The sun beats down on your form as you walk cautiously through your town's main road. Delicate steps were accompanied by hypervigilant eyes swiveling left and right. The town of Copperhill, which was usually bustling at this time of day, was so silent you could probably hear a hairpin drop across the valley. Main Street looked practically abandoned save for the few shadows you could see through closed shutters. From an outsider's perspective, they would think there was a plague. 

Well. That's one way to put it. 

The 'plague' in question is the only thing aside from a natural disaster that could keep your town this desolate. A gang.

Well, calling them a gang would be a compliment. It was more of a ragtag team of bandits unified by their mutual sense of greed. They call themselves the Slickjaws. They showed up about a month or so ago, rose hell, and then decided to set up their base of operations right outside of town. This made Copperhill their go to for entertainment, money, anything really. And right around this time they would head this way, looking to stir up trouble. You've stayed out of their way so far and intend to keep it that way, but being out here was playing with fire. While the Slickjaw gang was nothing more than an over glorified group of thieves, a gun is a gun no matter which way you slice it. The very real possibility of staring down a barrel made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 

So that raises the question: What in the hell were you doing out of the safety of your home when you knew they were coming? And to that, there was a simple answer.

You needed food.

Yep. The reason you were risking your life was for a bottle of apple cider vinegar, some beans, pork, and a few sorry chunks of jackrabbit you were able to convince Jericho to give you at a discounted price. It was better than nothing, but not much better than being left with a bullet in your skull from some trigger happy tenderfoot. But hey, you made this bed, and now you had to lie in it. 

So here you were, in one of your dresses that was a little more decent than usual, shoes you knew you wouldn't be unhappy about losing in a chase, and your coin purse close to your chest as you walked. You kept your pace quick, but not so fast to draw eyes towards you. Well, more than there already were. You were walking in the middle of town all by yourself after all. That in itself put a target on your back. But you were hoping, praying even, that luck would be on your side and you could get home without incident. So far, all was well, so the belief that you were in the clear settled your frazzled nerves. 

But of course, the fates always loved to have a laugh.

The unmistakable sound of horses sounded off behind you. Your heart seized in your chest, but you never faltered as you yielded to the lefthand side of the road. They weren't too close yet, just starting to get down Main Street. You hadn't looked behind you yet, so there was still the chance that it was just a group of cowboys looking for directions-

Wait, wasn't that horse getting a little close? Like close enough to run you over?

You whipped around right as a horse reared up on its back hooves less than a foot from your face. You're sent crashing onto your rear and your groceries scattering across the dirt. You hear the glass holding the vinegar shatter as the horse falls back down on all fours. Raucous laughter finally sets your fate in stone. 

"Well, well, well, look what we have here boys!" The man on the creature's back jeered at you. He didn't bother getting off his horse, instead choosing to look down at you from on above. His beige stampede hat clashed with his dark chin length hair. The rest of his face was obscured by a bright yellow bandana. The man's teal eyes wrenched up in glee as he took in your defensive form. "Got ourselves a broad in need of some assistance." 

The other men behind him whistled and laughed some more. You snapped out of your stupor and scrambled to your feet. Nervous eyes took in the situation you got yourself into. Men with bandanas covering their face? Check. All have bandoliers loaded with bullets and at least one gun? Check. Enough poisonous arrogance to kill a bull? Check. There was no way around it; they had to be Slickjaws. There were six of them, and they were all-fired ready to swing their bravados wherever they saw fit. Despite the dread settling into your bones, their haughtiness disgusts you. You face must reflect how you feel because as the man in front of you hops off his paint horse, he tuts at you placatingly.

"Now now, what's got your pretty face all twisted up?" He has the audacity to stroll up to you all lackadaisical and squish your cheeks together with a hand. "You aren't looking all blue 'cause of me, are ya?" 

You jerk your head out of his hold and keep your eyes on the ground. Despite these men being, well, themselves, there was no need to start something unnecessarily. You weren't going to become a bootlicker anytime soon, but you would prefer to get out of this alive. You school your face into something more pleasant and look him in the eyes. 

"Excuse my airs sir, but your horse nearly sent me and my rations straight to the grave." You kept your tone as light as you could. "Well, it seems they went on ahead without me anyways." A spared glance where you last saw your food tells you that it wasn't spared from the brunt of your fall and the hooves of his horse. You withhold an indignant huff. 

"Well 'pardon my airs' little lady, but me and my boys just wanted to get a good look at ya, that's all." He gestures to his group of leering misfits who have all now dismounted. They stand behind the man in front of him, but their slimy gazes make your skin crawl. "And what a good look you are," He purrs at you, but it sounds like grinding metal to your ears. Somehow, by some miracle, you keep the polite smile on your face when he lifted your hand and kissed it. "You can call me Finn, sugar." 

"Finn? The Finn?" Your voice trembled as you fought to keep your cool.

You thought the dread had set in when you first saw these thugs? That was a drop in the bucket compared to the abject horror that paled your face now. You were face to face with the biggest toad in the pond; the only man in the group who didn't blow smoke. Finn was the leader of the Slickjaws. He was known to burn down a whole town if someone looked at him wrong. And if his poor attempt at flattery was anything to go by, he took a liking to you. If you reject him now, you would be as good as dead. Hell, you were probably dead either way. He was downright crazy at times, and many of your fellow townsfolk have fallen by his hand. 

You were so, so very dead.

Now that he lowered his bandana, you could see the smirk on his lips as he spoke. "I suppose you've heard of me then?" A tiny nod from you splits his lips in a full-blown smile. He still hasn't let go of your hand. "Smart and a beaut? Why, you're just as rare as a desert rose 'round these parts." You crack a tiny smile at the remark. It's not real at all, but it's the best you can give. If he noticed, he doesn't comment on it. "Now," He yanks your stumbling form into his own sweaty, dusty one before you can catch yourself. He leans towards your ear as you do exact opposite, wanting to escape his hold as quickly as you can. "Let me make things up to ya. We didn't mean to scare ya." 

"Oh, it's no problem at all really," You've never danced out of man's hold so fast. An elegant twirl keeps him from throwing a fit while you feel like you can breathe again. "Flattery goes a long way with me. I don't even remember what happened." He still keeps that scarily tight grip on your hand, refusing to let you go anywhere. Your facade falters. You wanted out, and you wanted it now. You nervously swallow. "Finn, was it? It was a pleasure meeting you. I best be gettin' home now."

He chuckles dangerously at you. "Nah sugar, I don't think you're going anywhere." He pulls you into him again. You try to dig your heels into the dirt and twist out of his hold, but his hold only tightens as he his arm slithers across your waist. His once easygoing grin was now all teeth, ready to tear you apart. Shit. Your breath was picking up now, eyes wide as you desperately looked for an out. 

"Don't do this." You breathed out in a half warning, half plea. When you were cornered, you were known to lash out like an animal. The men behind him were grinning like wolves surrounding a lamb. You couldn't take them in a fight. You knew you couldn't. Even though these were probably your last few moments alive, you sure as hell weren't going down without one. Finn scoffs.

"I can do whatever I damn well please." He snarls in your face. "There ain't a man alive that can stop me." And that was all you needed to hear. 

Teeth bared, you throw your knee up as hard as you could, hitting him straight in the balls. 

When he crumples, you stomp on his foot with your heel for good measure before hightailing it out of there. You intentionally kick up dust, hoping to get it in his eyes. There's no need for a glance back when you hear the cocking of guns and a yell of "Get that bitch!" once you turn down a walkway between buildings where horses can't fit. You know that isn't enough to lose them, so you keep going. A loud yelp comes from you when a bullet misses you by a mile and hits a sign swinging above. You make a quick turn and Main Street's barbershop.

Your breaths come out in harsh pants as nothing but adrenaline keeps you at a dead sprint. Gunfire cracks through the air like lightning as the thunder of boots behind force you to keep your pace. Great. Fantastic. It seemed like today was going to hell in a horse cart and it wasn't even your fault. Kind of. Sort of. You just wanted to buy food, and now you were running for your life with the leader of the Slickjaws hot on your tail. You can't help but be exasperated by the whole thing. Why is it trouble that always finds you? Why can't it be oil, or gold, or something pretty?

By this point, you ran all the way around Main Street to the other side. You were getting tired. You weren't built for this at all. They saw you dart across the open expanse trying to make it to the other side, but didn't know exactly where you were. You slowed a bit as you looked around. You were nearby the saloon, which had a back door to get inside. Perfect!

You dove inside, shushing Theriam who almost screeched in surprise. You curled up under a table, keeping an eye on the window above you as the gang reconvened back in the middle of town.

"Didja find her?" You heard Finn ask one of his goons. There's a pause. "Ya can't even find one broad in the middle of daylight?" Another pause. A sudden explosion of sound makes you slam your hands over your ears. What can only be assumed as a body hits the window, making your blood run cold. The smell of gunpowder and burnt flesh fills the horrified silence. "It's fine." Finn says simply after no hesitation. "If she won't come out, then we'll just smoke her out." 

"Ya here that little lady? If ya don't come out, we'll burn this whole place to the ground!" He calls out into the dry air. Shit. He's not serious is he? For Chrissake, he just shot one of his own, of course he's serious! A foreboding sense of doom filled you as you glanced at Thieram helplessly. You liked living here, and you liked the people too. You'd made a name for yourself by being kind and a hard-working seamstress. If you protected Copperhill by going out there, you were dead as a doornail, and that wasn't ideal. But on the other hand, everyone dying was even less so. There wasn't even a guarantee he wouldn't wipe Copperhill off the map either. You gripped your head, stressed the hell out. This whole situation is going to the dogs. The dilemma you had was eating you alive, and there wasn't enough time. You reached up to look out the window to see Finn and his boys with unlit Molotov cocktails in hand. This was it. There was nothing you could do but come clean and mentally mark your spot in the boneyard. Goddamnit. This was the worst. Tears stung in your eyes as you crawled towards the door. 

"Last chance, trick. Where ya hiding?" You took a deep breath- the last one you'll ever take- and stared at Slickjaw's backs as you stood. From the corner of your eye, you dully noted another figure on a horse. Probably another gang member that looked around town for you. Although, weirdly enough, they seemed to be keeping out of sight. You squinted at them as they expertly guided their horse along shadows, blending in where the afternoon sun couldn't reach. Something in the back of your mind tells you to keep your mouth shut. You watch the mystery figure hunker down in a spot that hid them and their horse from view.

How odd.

"Alright boys, time's up. Let's light 'em up!"

Shit. You were supposed to turn yourself in! 

The Slickjaws cheered as the flicked open their lighters. Before they could set the cloth aflame, a sharp whistle aimed their focus towards the figure, now fully in the light. It was a woman on the horse, and her gun was aimed right at the group.

And she didn't have a bandana on. 

"She's right here, motherfucker." 

A flurry of bullets flew from her revolver, tagging Slickjaws left and right. You had to duck for cover again, covering your head from the shattered glass raining down on you. For better or for worse, you kept yourself pressed low as a full on gunfight broke out in the middle of Main Street. You never thought your quiet little town would be the main focus of things only told in stories, let alone you being the driving force behind it. Thankfully, or maybe not, it ended quicker than you expected it to. After a few minutes, the only thing you could hear was a passing breeze. Your gaze trailed to Thieram, who had also hit the deck. With a couple of glances pointing towards the door and windows, you silently asked if there was anyone left out in the street. He gave a confused and panicked shrug as if to say 'how should I know?' was no help.

"Y'all alright in there?" An unfamiliar gravelly voice calls out as the quarter horse you saw earlier pokes its head through the now shattered glass of the front door. You and Thieram scream in surprise as the poor horse pins its ears back and backs away, huffing and snorting. Your mystery savior comes into view and gently tugs on the reins, steadying her. "Go easy girl. That's it." With a mechanical hand, she pets the mare's neck. What the hell...? You watch in apprehension as the woman hops of the horse with practiced ease and strides towards you looking flabbergasted on the floor. She opens the door and extends out a hand, a flesh and bone one this time, for you to take. You slowly, cautiously, put your hand in hers. Your fingers slide over calloused fingers that come from years of hard work, which makes you all the more curious about this stranger. She gently pulls you to your feet, making sure you were balanced before letting go. She seems so calm now, and everything is quiet...so does that mean...? You turn from the woman who has now taken her black Stetson off her head to look outside. 

A quick look was all that was necessary to see that all six men were in grisly pools of blood mixed with dirt. In favor of not losing your meal (again), you jerked your head back to the mystery woman who walked farther into The Last Drop. Her hat was now placed on her chest as a sign of remorse towards Theiram.

"'M sorry about messin' up your saloon, barkeep. Hope I can make it up to ya by paying extra for some lodgings for the next few days." Her lackadaisical demeanor about killing six men that she probably didn't know should appall you. But instead, you couldn't help but stare. You were drinking up the new sight of the choppy cut her coal black hair was styled in. A another breeze from outside lifted her hair just so, revealing an undercut beneath. The rest of her short hair curtained her face in such a way that emphasized her jaw and strong nose. It wasn't like it was some revolutionary new hairstyle that she came up with herself; It was far from it, really. You knew Ran right up the way had the same style. But on her it felt...different. Intriguing. All of her could be described that way honestly. The way she walked, the way she talked, all of it was like she took advantage of your natural curiosity by simply being. And if her wayward glance to you while she was waffling to Thieram about god knows what was any inclination, she knew that just as well as you.

"And I reckon I have an apology to make to you too, miss." You flounder for a moment once she fully turns those piercing grey eyes to you and dips her head low in remorse.

"Apologize? What for? You saved my life! Finn was all about to turn my hide into a rug!" You blurt out, incredulous. She smirks at you in such a way that halts you from speaking any more. Well, it was more like her tooth gap did. Another thing that draws you to her. She leans back to her full height that you now realize looms over your form with an amused expression on her face.  

"Well, if you'd let me finish miss, I could tell ya." You huff indignantly at her sass, but don't say any more. "First, I arrived in town before that gang and watched 'em give you a hard time. Without doin' nothin'." The notion makes you cross your arms and furrow your brows.

"What, you thought watchin' me get pushed around by a bunch of dogs was funny to you?" You snap at the imposing woman, momentarily forgetting she was a person who seemingly had no problem ending another's life. But instead of you staring down the barrel of her six-shooter, she only chuckles at your temper.

"Not at all," She drawls as she places her hat back on her head. "Had to survey the situation. See how many of 'em there were, who they were, the like. Best way to do that is when they're distracted. It made my blood boil to see it was you that what was holdin' their attention." The reassurance placated you somewhat, but the fact you were used as bait still rubbed you the wrong way. You uncrossed your arms and motioned for her to continue.

"Secondly, I scared you with my horse." She gestures to the mount still standing patiently outside. The only thing indicating that the creature wasn't a statue was the shifting of her ears this way and that. 
 
"And third," While your attention was diverted to the dark mare, the mystery woman gently grabs your hand. She gives you ample time to snatch it away, but you don't. You were still trying to show her you were upset at her by ignoring her. "I should be apologizin' for cussin' in front of a lady such as yourself." She leans down and ghosts her plush lips on the back of your hand. You should have taken your hand back. You should've recoiled immediately as soon as she reached for it. You should have done what you wanted to do to Finn and sock this overtly confident woman in the jaw since she (probably) had no balls to kick. But instead, what's left of your irritation fizzles away without your permission. No matter how hard you try, you can't muster up the ability to mad at her. The thought makes your face burn and your mouth opens and closes like a fish.

"I-I....Um..."

Her lips twitch up into a smile at your momentary paralysis, seeming to thoroughly enjoy halting your brain in its tracks. What in the Sam Hill is going on with me?  Shaking your head to recover, you pull your hand out of her hold to put it haughtily on your hip. A flippant hand causes her to stand back to her full height once more.

"I-I'll accept your apologies if you tell me your name, stranger." Your tone is nonchalant in an effort to not betray your inner turmoil. Man, your acting skills were putting in the work today, weren't they? She quirks an eyebrow. You pray she doesn't see through your facade. If she does, she doesn't mention it.

"Sevika."

You try the name out on your tongue. As you familiarize yourself with it, Sevika brushes past you to head to Thieram who is now standing behind the bar again. Your brows furrow again as her heavy steps creak on the floor beneath her feet. 

"Ain't you gonna ask me for mine?" Sevika pauses but doesn't turn back to you. 

"Nah, I think that can wait till next time you come find me." She sits herself at a stool and murmurs at Thieram to prepare her a drink. Your nose wrinkles in confusion. That troublesome anger you have flares at the assumption.

"What makes you think I'll do that?" You snark at her. A brown drink is placed in front of her, and she takes a sip before speaking. 

"I don't think. I know you will."

The arrogance of this woman makes you scoff and roll your eyes. She was capable and strong, sure, but that know-it-all attitude soured her whole persona. It was now pissing you off to now end. You stomp out of The Last Drop - careful to step over the corpses - and into town. She was no better than Finn and his goons. Or...what was left of them. You take care to wipe the blood on the bottom of your shoes into the dust. While you were thankful for the renegade that saved your life, you were certain of one thing. 

"There's no way in hell I'm goin' back in there." You mutter under your breath as you hustle home. 

That is, what you thought until you walked back into the Last Drop no less than twenty four hours later.

Chapter Text

Now let's get a few things straight: You were not excited to see Sevika. Not one bit. When you said you weren't ever gonna see her again, you meant it. And that would've been the case if it weren't for your brain having a goddamn conniption at all hours of the day because you would never know her story. Now, you're not a nosy person, not by any means. You're typically fine without knowing every single thing about a person. But with her, you didn't know a damn thing and it was eating you alive. Every time you replay what happened yesterday in your mind, you can't help but be reminded of your savior clad in dark brown chaps and a black Stetson.

Not knowing was wearing at you more than you would like to admit; It was souring your mood and coming through in your work. The natural dyes you make for linens were coming out dull and hand stitching you mastered when you were young was starting to look sloppy and amateur-ish. Money already was tight this month from the Slickjaws’ greedy grip on Copperhill. you had little to no funds to move around to buy more food, and you weren't even sure if Jericho’s General had anything good left. So it’s safe to say that you were upset. A little pissy, even. you made no attempt to hide it either. Frustration rolls off you, thick and unyielding as your heeled boots take you through Main Street. The only idea you have left was to beg Theiram to let you wash some dishes in exchange for a hot meal. It was something I’ve done before, but it didn’t mean you liked doing it. Touching wet food in freezing cold water was not the ideal way you wanted to spend your afternoon.

But despite this, you put your big girl pants on, because this big girl’s gotta eat. You push past the wooden panels swinging on hinges with a loud, dramatic sigh. Instead of The Last Drop being empty like you expected, it was...livelier. People were actually sitting at tables and spending time at Copperhill's hotspot like they used to before the Slickjaws butted in. Now that you mention it, Main Street shops were actually getting business again. You suppose now that folks feel safe again, they're coming out full swing. Seemed like some of them helped clean up after yesterday too. The thought lifts some of the weight tugging your lips down. Safe! Copperhill was safe again!

Your step is a little lighter as you weave in between barmaids to the counter and sweep your eyes across the bar. No one is serving; probably because everyone has been served already. That's alright though, that just means you get an excuse to yell.

“Ran, Theiram! Where y’all at? I need a favor from ya!” You plant both hands on the bartop, your body halfway over the sanded wood as you do so. Most patrons who know you don't even bat an eye at you; you weren't known as someone who was quiet. You pause with your ear pointed at the back of house, but there's no signs of movement. Once again, that wasn't a problem. You take in another lungful of air.

"THEIIIIIRAAAA-"

"Alright, alright! Quit yer yellin' already!" A voice barks from behind another set of swinging doors to the left. Some customers chortle with laughter at the exchange as they play cards. The man of the hour emerges quickly, a pinkie in his ear to stop the ringing. "What in the hell is eatin' you up so bad you gotta holler like that girl?"

"Need a job. Somethin' you need done around here in exchange for some food?" you drum your fingers on the top, doing your best to hide the reluctance on your face.

Thieram considers your request, scratching the stubble around his jaw as he eyes the saloon with a scrutinizing eye.

"Well, I can think of a few things. But y'ain't gonna like 'em."

"Theiram, I already don't like askin' for work like some beggar woman." You say exasperatedly, already dreading what he was going to say. "Just let me scrub a few dishes or wash some bedsheets from upstairs and we can call it good."

"You're right about one thing. You ain't no beggar, because you're sure as hell tryna choose what you do." He says with no real malice. The man pulls a towel out of his back pocket and puts it in your hands as he glides past you. Relief washes over you like a wave, already picturing the stew you're gonna have. "Come on Sweets, you can have the dishes if you want 'em."

"Actually, I have a job she can do."

The low timbre of a distinctly female voice sends gooseflesh running up and down your arms. The voice makes the two of you halt and turn, and there's Copperhill's savior in all her glory. You swear you didn't see Sevika when you first walked in, but then again your momma always said you get tunnel vision when you put your mind to something. She nestled herself at the end of the bar, one booted leg propped lazily on the rung of her stool and nursing that same kind of brown drink from yesterday. She doesn't even look at you as she swirls the amber liquid around in her glass. Like this meant nothing to her. Your face morphs from confusion to displeasure despite your heart kicking into overdrive in your chest. Arms cross over your chest before you can stop it, mentally walling yourself from being drawn into her offer too quickly.

"Oh yeah? What kinda job?" You swear to the fates, if she was thinking she could get you to do something difficult so she could make fun of you-

"Need someone who knows their way around a needle and thread. And from what I hear, that person is you." What. How does she even know that? You whip your head back to Theiram so fast your neck hurts. He meets your gaze with raised eyebrows, almost surprised that you didn't know that she knew. Snitch. There's rustling as she pulls a lump of fabric out of a knapsack she brought in with her. Great, this woman is about to hand you a potato sack and is gonna expect you to spin it into gold. Fantastic. You try not to roll your eyes as you watch her unfurl it. It's just like her to do this. What a load of...

Wait...

You step forward, gaze analytical as you take in the cloth for what it really is.

Instead of the sack like you were expecting, Sevika unravels a poncho, the kind you don't see unless you're farther south. But instead of light colors to reflect the sun, it was dyed black. It was thicker too, like it was meant for colder weather. The cotton fabric looks worn, like it's been caught in fights and washed improperly for months. Speaking of fights, the bullet holes and spots of gunpowder burn showed the burnt inside of leather lining hidden in between the cotton outer layers. The tasseled hem was fraying like mad and looked more like strings tied on instead of the intended look. The only thing relatively intact was the fur lining the neckline. This was far too insulating for the warm temperatures Copperhill gets. She must be from back east. When you met Sevika's eyes again, she was looking at you expectantly, waiting for your assessment.

Oh. She's actually serious.

"I..." you tear your gaze away from her and back to the article of clothing. Where do you even begin with this? This outerwear raised more questions that your mind chomping at the bit to ask. you opened your mouth to do, but you stop that train before it gets to the station. No. Stop that. Focus. You corral your impulse to jump on this like a shot and take a measured breath.

"I can fix it, but I doubt you'll get much use out of it the more you head west." You say, keeping your tone neutral as you lightly pinch the fabric. "It's all bright and sunny out this way. You'll burn alive in a thing like this."

"Then could ya make me another? One like this?"

Your ears perk up at that. While making dresses and shirts is all well and good, making something like this doesn't come up often. You'd probably even get to make the pattern yourself from scratch. The thought makes your hands itch to get ahold of a needle. But ever the realist, you look at the facts. And the facts don't spin well in your favor.

"This...this would be a lot of work. Work that would take a while to do. And assuming you're traveling through, you don't have that kind of time." You can't help the sigh that breezes past your lips at the preemptive loss of work and information on this stranger. "Not to mention I always take payment for my work after it's don-"

There's a harsh clink as a bag of coins is tossed onto the bar top. The sound cuts you off.

"Time ain't a problem. That enough for it?" For the second time in two days, your mouth opens and closes like a fish. That bag did not sound light in the slightest. Was she deaf? You just said you take payment after the job.

"Y'know what? How about this: I pay you this upfront, and then pay you again after. That way you can still keep your method of business. The price is whatever you say since you're the expert."

Okay, she has to be toying with you now. you turn to look at Theiram to make sure you was hearing her right, but he already left to tend to other duties. your jaw closes with a resounding thok as you narrow your eyes at her.

"So lemme get this straight. You want me to fix this poncho, make you a new one, and you're paying for double? You willingly putting the cart before the horse? What's the catch?"

A slow grin spreads across Sevika’s face like she’s already won some unspoken game between you two. The sunlight catches the glint of copper in her prosthetic arm as she turns towards you, resting her flesh elbow on the bar. Her grey eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse skip and your arms uncross.

“No catch,” she says, voice low and smooth as aged whiskey. “I just want it done right. Ain’t many folks who know how to work with materials like this out here." She taps a finger against the frayed hem of the poncho for emphasis. "And there's even fewer who can make something durable and look good doin’ it.” Sevika leans back, all casual like. “Whether you know it or not, you’ve got a reputation, Sweets.” The nickname rolls off her tongue easily. Too easily. Like she's said it in moments when no one was listening. The revelation hits you hard enough to rattle your skull.

Why was this so overwhelming? It was like each thing she says is already planned out in its entirety and she was just waiting for you to catch up to her. You weren't used to it at all. As much as you hated to admit, it intimidated you just as much as it blindsided you.

“How do you even know what I do?” You say after you're finally able to gather your thoughts.

“Small town,” Sevika says simply, smirking now with that damn tooth gap on display. “People talk.”

“Yeah? Well they musta skipped tellin’ me anything about you, then.” You can’t help the snark in your tone as you take a bold step closer. She chuckles and takes another slow sip from her glass.

“That can change, y’know. There ain’t no one sayin’ it can’t.”

She nudges the bag toward you again without breaking eye contact.

“So… we got us a deal?”

That kind of coin could have you living comfortably for the next month at the least. You'd have to be crazy not to nab it while you had the chance. And yet, you eyed the payment warily. This kind of money doesn't come from living a clean life. But what do you even know about any of that?

As a born native of Copperhill, you’d never seen what things were like outside these parts. Your hometown wasn’t exactly a bustling oil town like you'd hear about from folks passing through. Whoever chooses to live here typically prefers a small, quaint life with a routine every day. While you shared the same sentiment, you couldn't see yourself living the same day in, day out with no excitement or intrigue. Note how you said you couldn't live without excitement, not danger. The whole Slickjaw debacle was enough danger for you until the day you died. 

But in a twisted kind of way, you can't help but admit that Finn brought Sevika to you. A walking well of information overflowing with fascinating stories and stimulating conversation.

And to you, that was worth more than its weight in gold.

"Fine." You grab the bag without looking at her, almost as if you're ashamed to take on a job like this. You can hear her smug grin before you see it. The thought makes you whirl on her with an accusatory finger pointed her way and a hand on your hip. "But don't expect no special treatment just 'cause you saved the town. If I start seein' any behavior like those bandits, I'll gut ya in your sleep."

Sevika raises her hands in a non-threatening manner with a look that tells you she doesn't take you seriously at all. "If that happens, I'll give you the knife myself." She all but purrs. Her tone makes you wrinkle your nose in confusion. She was an odd one, wasn't she? Oh well, not your problem. Actually, she kinda was now that she was your client. You shake your head to dismiss that. You could deal with that later. You pull out the black leather notebook you keep on you and reach over the bar to grab something to write with.

"Here. Write down your name and what you want. If you can't write, I can do it for ya." You slide both items towards her. Sevika looks mildly offended as she scribbles in her information.

"What, y'think I don't know how to write my own name?" She finishes it with a flourish and spins it back towards you. You glance at it to see perfectly legible handwriting. Of course. Showoff.

"Hey, you never know. I've seen plenty of cowboys pass through here not even able to read our signs." You say with a shrug and pocket the book in your skirt. Sevika lets out a harsh, incredulous scoff at the notion. The sound makes you pause. You mull over how to approach that as you secure your workbook.

"What, embarrassed that three quarters of y'all are illiterate? It ain't nothin' to be ashamed about." The question is posed as a matter-of-fact statement, but it's apparently enough to make her grit her teeth.

"I ain't a part of that 'y'all' you talkin' about, Sweets." Oh? Could've had you fooled. You keep that to yourself though. Money ain't no good when you have a bullet between your eyes from pissing off the wrong person.

"Well pardon me for assuming then. If you don't mind me askin', what do you call yourself then? Or rather, what job is so bad it took you out into the middle of nowhere like this?" You were hoping that your joke would land to lighten the mood, but of course, you are the fates' favorite plaything. Fickle bastards.

Sevika takes out a cigar from her jacket and lights it effortlessly with her prosthetic arm. She takes a long drag, like she's ruminating on what she should tell you. Or maybe how? She must gamble often, because she has a damn good poker face. She politely blows the smoke above the two of you, watching it dissipate.

Eventually, finally she rewarded your patience with an answer.

"Y'know that poor excuse of a gang that was messin' with you yesterday? Finn and his boys?" You nod along, not really knowing where this was going. "Well, they're the reason I came out to 'the middle of nowhere' as you so eloquently put it. They were wanted. Dead or alive. I find people like Finn and lead 'em to their maker. Whether that be behind bars or the end of my gun is above my paygrade."

"Oh, so kinda like a cleaner of sorts?" You ask, wanting to make sure you understood. She snorts, all tension gone from her body.

"Yeah doll, let's go with that. As long as I ain't no cowboy." Your brows furrow at the new title, but let it slide. Might as well start off your relationship with your new client on the right foot.

"Alright Sevika the Cleaner, I look forward to working with you for as long as your here." You hold out your hand for her to shake. With an amused smile, she grasps your hand in her own as she taps the cigar in her other hand in a nearby ashtray.

"Likewise, hon. I could get used to seeing a face like yours."

What.

Wait. Don't tell me she's a flirt.

You knew this job was too good to be true. You knew from her grin that was all teeth she was going to make you work for it.

Fates, get ready, because whenever I get to where y'all are, you're gonna get an ass-whoopin'.

Chapter Text

It's been about two weeks or so since the Cleaner has decided to join Copperhill's midst. For most, not much has changed. Unfortunately, you are not a part of that majority. In fact, you are a part of a minority of people affected by that woman that is so small that it consists of only you. It's like she's turned into your damn shadow; everywhere you go you can see her out of the corner of your eye. Or if the fates hate you that day, you see her because she's directly in front of you. You mean, sure, you need to talk to her about her clothes you were making (the new one was leaning more towards poncho the more she described what she wanted), but most people in town you can go at least a few days without seeing them. Not her. It was like she knew her schedule or something even though you didn't have one. And she would flirt like her life depended on it every. Damn. Time. You even told her explicitly that you were not interested, but it was like she took that as a challenge. Like she could wear you down and you'd cave eventually. As if. If there is one thing you are, it's you being stubborn as all hell. You didn't dig your heels into a hill to die on often, but you were more than happy to do it for this occasion. But of course, that didn't stop her either. So now you two traded words like bullets in a gunfight. Her honeyed promises and your sharp denial flowed and never ebbed. Many days it left you weary and jumpy, as if your body was tensing for a fight that would inevitably come.

Safe to say you needed a break. More than a break. You needed space.

So the next dawn, under the guise of needing natural materials for your clothes, you took a walk. A long one. Long enough that it took you at least an hour to get there and couldn't see Copperhill in the distance. Just you, the sparse breeze, and the crumbly, dry soil under your feet. Perfect.

The first thirty minutes out there, you just sat and listened to the subtlety of the world waking up. The gritty caw of crows and the skittering of prairie dogs brushed against your ears while the silhouettes of vultures darkened the light passing through your closed eyelids. This was exactly what you needed. Just a bit of respite to remind yourself that you are a living, breathing human and that's all you have to be. After soaking up a bit more of the peace, your body itched to get moving. So up you went, and your search began.

The area around you was sparse, but still had plants stubbornly insisting on life. And because there was little competition, they were doing quite well. It wouldn't hurt them too much if you took what you needed. You wandered around shrubs for a bit, taking pieces from each one. Your eyes eventually led you to a patch of prickly pear cactus with perfectly ripe fruit. Bingo. The sight was all you needed to slide on your gloves, bring over your basket, and get to work. The steady work of harvesting got you into a comfortable groove: inspect, cut, place in basket, rinse and repeat. You even started humming a little tune as you happily toiled under the desert sun.

"Now look what we have here."

And like clockwork, she found you again. You glance up, thankfully not towards the sun trying to sear your retinas, and see your newest client approaching you on horseback. Great. You wave your hand in a civil greeting and carefully grab a few more infected cactus pads. She and her mount have come to a stop next to you when you greet her.

"Fancy meeting you out here." You greet simply, hoping she'll move along. "I could say the same to you, doll. What'cha doin' all the way out here?" To be fair to her, you were pretty far out of the way. Many would deem this area truly the 'middle of nowhere.' Your average Joe would probably stop by to see what you were doing too, so you suppose that her not minding her business isn't the end of the world. This time. And you were in a good mood, so what the hell; it couldn't hurt to humor her this time around.

"I'm foraging. Need new dye for your poncho if I want it to look right."

"Wouldn't it be easier to order fabric already dyed from a different town and get it sent in?" She asks as she hops off her horse to talk to you properly.

"It would, but that would take too long. Plus the color isn't nearly as vibrant compared to when I do it myself." Sevika snorts good-naturedly at your confidence.

"Alright Ms. Independent, I'll bite. What makes you say that?" Good, take her attention and redirect it elsewhere.

"C'mere and look at this." You hold up one of the pads for her to see at her standing height, but she uses the situation as an excuse to get closer to you than necessary. Of course. She takes a knee to lean into your personal space. You quickly scoot over to re-establish the gap between you two. She tries to follow, but overestimates the gap and tips too far, nearly sending herself into the cluster of spines in front of the two of you. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. It would be in character for her to want to get a rise out of you so bad she almost falls into a cactus thicket. Pretending not to notice that nearly devastating mishap, you hold out your own specimen between the two of you.

"See all that white fuzzy stuff on it?" Sevika nods, not really seeing where you're going with this. You pull off a glove and grab one of the white tufts. Her furrowed brows peak in surprise when you crush it in between your forefinger and thumb and reveal a blood red pigment inside.

"It's called carmine. The dye I mean. It's what people use to make red clothes. But for commercial use, they use a lot less than I do." Sevika hums in understanding as you wipe off the color on your glove and slip it back on.

"Well I'll be. You're going above and beyond for me? Be careful Sweets, I like that kind of dedication in a woman." Her voice is saccharine, but like you gather will happen a lot in the following months, the insinuation doesn't land. More like you intentionally whack it with a stick until it stops twitching, but who's taking notes here?

"I'm sure you do, but that's none of my business." You tuck your blade into your basket so you can wander over to a different patch and inspect the pads for more cochineal. Of course, Sevika follows close behind, not letting up an inch.

"And what about the other stuff in that there basket?" Your hands were carefully reaching for your next target in the brush when she speaks up again. The blade in your hand is already sawing at a node when you decide to give her an answer. "Oh, just plants for some other colors I'm running low on. Sumac, alder cones, goldenrod, the like," You pull back with your prize and take a moment to quickly cut away the most offensive needles before dropping it into your collection.

"Oh, and some prickly pears. They make for good eats after you burn off the needles. Me though? When I have the sugar, I make candy out of 'em. " The blade points at the numerous bright red fruit still on the stalk. It seems she recognized that one, at least.

"No wonder they call you Sweets. You gotta sweet tooth somethin' fierce, don'tcha?" Damn, she caught onto that quick. You shrug, a bit bashful at her perception. You distract yourself by going back into the brush for more.

"Can't help it. Sugar serves my brain best."

"And how do the rest of these serve the best needleworker in the west?" While Sevika's trying to keep the conversation going, your mind is focused on your task. You don't see any more cochineal here; not enough to warrant cutting more pads, anyway. You can't help but huff. At least you can get more pears. Your attention turns to those instead when you tune back into the conversation.

"Well, in terms of color, these are all warm colors: Yellow, beige, stuff like that. To get the color on clothes, you gotta boil the hell out of it first. Both the fabric and the plant gotta be done separately. Then, for some dyes, you gotta add what's called mordant, which basically allows the cloth to take color. After letting that soak for a bit, you just put the cloth in the vat of whatever color you pick after taking out the plants. And then there you go." You step back from the patch for the last time, a handful of the sweet fruit in hand. You carefully roll them off your gloved hands and into your basket. Now done, you face her fully. "It's obviously more complicated than that, but that's the long and short of it."

"Sounds tedious." You wiggle your flat hand in a side-to-side motion in response, tossing your head a bit as you do so. "Kinda. It's a lot of waitin', so I normally have multiple pots going at the same time. But hey, it's what pays for my meals at the end of the day." You life the basket holding your haul and settle it into the crook of your elbow, gauging the weight. Shouldn't be too bad getting back.

"If ya let me court ya, you wouldn't have to worry about things like that." Okay, wow, forward much? You scoff. And you know what? You roll your eyes for good measure. You know you were trying to be polite earlier but that was so audacious it warranted it anyway.

"What, so you can have your way with me, hightail it to the next place that needs cleaning, and deny I even existed? No thanks."

"Oh Sweets, I could never forget a face like yours." She leans in to your personal space again, practically cooing at you as she took in your facial features appreciatively. You lean back in tandem, making sure she knows that bursting your bubble is not appreciated.

"Sure, and I have 10 pounds of gold hidden in a box under my bed."

"Oh yeah? Anything else in there I need to know about?" Sevika thankfully doesn't close the gap again, but her beckoning eyebrow wiggle seeps its way under your skin and makes it crawl. She just isn't giving up. Will she ever? Probably not. Lovely.

"Yes, I do actually. It's a gun." Sevika tuts at your response, feigning hurt. She amuses herself with her own dramatics while you stand there with your arms crossed.

"You're no fun, doll. I bet you can't even shoot the thing anyway."

"Fine then, I'll use the giant rusty railroad spike I have in my closet." That actually gets her to laugh, loud and unimpeded. She finally stops yapping at that, seemingly seeing a proper end to the conversation. Thank the fates. You check the sun's height, taking care to shield your eyes as you do so. You've been out for a while. It's probably time to call it.

"Well, as fun as it is threatening you, I should be heading back now. I'm not too far from home, but with this sun beatin' down the way it is, I should head back before noon so I don't burn alive." You readjust the handle of your basket to prepare for the journey back.

"Sure, sure. Where's your horse?" She asks, searching the flat landscape for your mount.

"Horse? Nah, I ain't got one of those. Just me and my two legs." You turn out a leg and give a couple of pats with your free hand for emphasis. "They haven't steered me wrong yet."

Sevika looks at you like you've grown a second head. "Absolutely not. I'll get you back." She places two fingers in her mouth and whistles to her horse a little ways away. The black mare begins to lumber over to the two of you. You look up at the woman beside you, confused.

"Don't you got business to attend to out here?"

"Yeah, it's called gettin' you home before you get heat sickness." She hoists herself on the horse easily before outstretching a hand towards you. "Now come on." You hesitate for a moment to weigh your options. Your sense of direction is fine, so it's not like you're lost or anything. But on the other hand, this basket is a bit heavier than you thought and the thought a horse doing all the walking for you does sound much nicer than what you originally planned. Fuck it, might as well. You grab Sevika's hand with your free one and get yourself situated behind her. With a quick 'all good' from you, she clicks her tongue and the horse begins its trek back to Copperhill. It's nice and quiet for a while. You just watch the scenery trickle by and make sure your bounty doesn't fall off the ambling creature beneath you. Speaking of the creature....

"What's her name?" You're the one to break the silence this time, staring at Sevika's back as if she can see you.

"Who?" She glances back as well as she can to make sure she heard you right.

"The horse, what's her name?" She laughs lightly and faces forward again like you just asked a dumb question.

"She don't got one. 'S just a horse." Your train of thought stutters for a moment. Seriously?

"Now you're sayin' nonsense! This girl has probably taken you all up and down the East and you ain't even given her a name?"

"No." Sevika says it with a sense of finality, not leaving room for questions. You huff, petulant. There's another lull before you declare a statement with the same candor.

"Well I think y'should." You can barely get it out when she cuts you off.

"Ain't happenin', Sweets."

 Oddly enough, Sevika was a total gentlewoman taking you home that day. She helped you off her horse and made sure you got inside safe before leaving. She didn't try to stall or cajole you into letting her inside; she just watched you walk to your front door from a distance and tipped her hat in farewell as she left. It was surprisingly nice. You surmised that maybe she got the hint that you weren't interested in what she had to offer to a passing fancy. Once she got along with some other woman (or man, you weren't entirely sure she didn't like bossing around men) in another town, she would move on and that would be that.

If someone asked you about her though, you were getting a bit worried.

Not because you were soft on her favoritism, but because you haven't seen her around in a while. It's been four weeks, and you haven't seen neither hide nor hair of her anywhere. In the beginning, you treasured the times you went onto Main Street and didn't have to worry getting sweet talked by your new entourage. But now, she was gone long enough to make you start to wondering if you should make a fuss about her disappearance.

Surely others have noticed, right? But then again, a woman like her doesn't just go missing out of the blue like that. Maybe she just left?

Your nonstop train of thought kept you more occupied than you would like to admit. Oftentimes others will catch you chewing on your lip or staring at nothing and you would have to play it off with an excuse. Sevika just leaving town was the most plausible, but would she leave after paying for unfinished commission? Was she that kind of person to just leave? You didn't know. And you hated not knowing. But all you could do is stew over it. So stew you did. You stewed about it so hard you started craving stew yourself. That's how you found yourself at Jericho's with an empty belly. This time though, you could buy more than just the essentials thanks to your missing beneficiary. At the end of the day, if she really did leave, it wasn't so bad of a break for you. She did leave you with a hefty sum. When you finally sat down and counted the coin in that bag, the total was more than enough to buy out half of Jericho's stock in the middle of spring. The amount nearly had you marching to The Last Drop, banging on the door of the room she was staying in, and shoving it into her hands before hightailing it back home. But you couldn't on the account of the whole 'Sevika nowhere to be found' situation. So now you have a bag that must've been made out of molten iron the way it was burning a hole in your pocket. And despite your newfound wealth, you knew you couldn't afford to even think about just how much money that woman made cleaning up towns to be throwing that kind of money around. You were pretty sure your brain would melt out of your ears trying to do that.

So instead you were leaned over the front counter, flipping through Jericho's catalogue and thinking about what you wanted to order from back east. You were here for food, sure, but it didn't mean you couldn't plan ahead. You would probably need some more leatherworking tools soon since slaughter season was coming around for cattle. You knew the want for leather-made items rose in tandem with its abundance as well as anyone; your pair of leather gloves were just about a patchwork masterpiece of scraps because you had to make do until the price for it was reasonable.

You were crunching numbers and muttering under your breath when the bell above the door rang, signaling another patron's entry. Jericho, as loud as ever, greeted them with a hearty "Howdy!" and started his usual spiel of new items. You stood up to your full height and you were about to turn and greet them when a pleased, sharp whistle cut through the air.

"Two weeks on the trail all by my lonesome, I finally get back to civilization, and I get to lay eyes on the prettiest thing in town first thing in the mornin'? I must be the luckiest woman alive."

Oh. Well, that both simplifies and complicates things.

"Sevika," You greet her all the same, but you can't help a twinge of astonishment bleeding into your tone. You're fully turned around and standing as you lean the back of your lower half against the counter. You can't help but cross your arms at her. Force of habit? Maybe. Was it also you didn't know how to feel about her coming back and getting right back to her bullshit? Most likely.

"I had half a mind to believe that you ran off on me, cowboy." Did you add the moniker you know she doesn't like just because your feathers were a bit ruffled? Absolutely.

"Like I told you Sweets, I could never leave this town behind when someone like you lives here." She strolls up to you and the older man behind the counter with all the swagger she must've built up after being a month on the road. Apparently that swagger must make her think she's a bigshot, because she stands in front of you to reach down and pinch your cheek.

"Besides, it seems you still need me to remind you I ain't no cowboy."

Your scowl is immediate and you slap her hand away even faster. Even with the obvious disgust on your face, she grins at you like she won the lottery. Eugh. What were you even worried about? This woman should have left. Or starved in the desert somewhere. Maybe then her horse would run back to you and you could actually give that poor thing a name. Yeah, you didn't forget that travesty, what of it? Nor did you forget all the other things she insisted on saying to you!

You jerk your face away from her, nose in the air. Jericho chortles in the background, clearly enjoying the show. Fine. Let him. At least someone was benefitting from Sevika's.....self. She's all smiles as she moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with you, hip jutted out to intentionally touch you and all in your space and doing way too much. She new it too. But she just started talking to the shop owner like you weren't there to do business too. Like she was saying, "not now, the adults are talking."

She really made taking a two-by-four and swinging it at her knees seem like a good idea. Too good of an idea.

Sending off the personal space you had while she was gone a teary farewell, you hastily scribble your order on Jericho's notepad, shove it towards him, and take a large and painfully obvious step away from her. She throws you a knowing smirk like she predicted you'd do that and you're playing right into her hands. Just like how you wish your favorite crowbar was magically floating into yours.

Whatever. You were here to buy shit, not...whatever she wants to be doing with you.

Your feet take you to the produce section to grab a few vegetables and canned meat for your stew. You remember you were running low on a few other things too. You end up with a jar of flour, some coffee, and with your hawk-like vision, you nab the last container of sugar. By the way you made your way back to the counter, Sevika was already gone. Thank the fates.

"What happened to Copperhill's savior?" You asked, trying to keep the snarky gratefulness out of your voice. The important word in that sentence being tried. There was a reason your mouth get you in trouble time to time.

"Oh you know. Off to do business elsewhere I'm sure." You hummed absentmindedly as you tried to guess how easy it would be to get home without running into her again. Knowing her, your chances are probably low, but you can't stop a woman from trying. You place your items on the counter and pull out your coin purse.

"Alright old man, what do I owe you?"

"Oh, that isn't necessary." He waves it off with a large hand as he grabs you a paper bag. You give him a puzzled look.

"It's not necessary to engage in commerce with a shop owner to support his business?" You can't help but speak slowly and properly to make sure that you were hearing him right. He playfully narrows his eyes at you.

"Don't start speakin' with that eastern tongue in here, little lady. It makes the rest of us look uncouth." He waggles a finger at you. You lightheartedly roll your eyes, not taking him seriously. He pays no mind as he finished bagging your items and pushes them towards you. "It's not necessary for you to pay because your cowboy paid already."

"What. The fuck." You say blankly. So much for not being uncouth. His lips tighten into a line and his face reddens. You knew that look. He was trying not to laugh. Your annoyance only grows and you cross your arms again.

"You think that's funny, old man?" He tosses his hands palm up around in a 'maybe' sort of motion, his smile only growing.

"She did say I would get a kick outta this."

"For chrissakes Jericho, you coulda told me so I could've stopped her. You're supposed to be on my side!" You hiss as you snatch your bag of goods.

"I'm on the side that best benefits my business, and the money she paid was more that you were gonna give me. I'm also on the side that's the most comical, and your cowboy is the most interesting thing that's happened in this town in a while."

"She is not mine, no matter what she says. And she's not a cowboy." You grumble irritably. You adjust the bags to sit comfortably in your arms. You wanted to leave as soon as you could, but what if she was waiting outside for you? She would probably insist on carrying your bags and taking you home. Oh god, did she still remember where you lived? You hoped not. You deliberated for a moment before just saying "to hell with it" under your breath and taking quick strides to get out the door.

"You gotta admit, she's sweet on you!"

"And suddenly, my mouth is full of cavities!" You snap back, head turned to shout through the door before it closed. His laughter is explosive and bounces off the walls of his store, finally letting it loose not that you were out the door. And just like you dreaded, you nearly run face first into Sevika's chest because you weren't looking where you were walking. She practically jumps on the chance to grab your arms and steady you.

"Easy there darlin'," She intentionally smoothed voice in a way that would curl pleasantly around the ear, but all it makes you do is tense in her hold. "Need some help carrying those things?" She wasn't letting go. Why wasn't she letting go. Your face can't help but screw up at the contact. Ugh.

"Do I even get a choice?" You grumble irritably and step out of her grip. Sevika's lips quirked up in a half smile, leading you to her horse.

"I think you're startin' to get this whole courtin' thing after all, Sweetness." Sweetness? Fates above help you. You were about to find a new way to commit murder.

"Watch where you step, cowboy. The last time someone held me like you did and tried tellin' me what to do I kicked him in the balls." You snarled, finally sick of her game. And all she did was laugh at your remark. Again. Your temper was flaring, the flames licking dangerously at the column of your throat and threatening to burst. Maybe it was because your tolerance for her left when she was gone for a month, but you couldn't help but think she was making it her personal mission to piss you off.

You know what? Screw this. You walked past her and her mount, marching her way home. You didn't need her help before, and you didn't need it now. And you definitely didn't need her mouth. You had made it a good distance before you heard trotting hooves behind you. You looked back to see that same black mare and her aggravating owner. For fuck's sake.

"I don't need a chaperone Sevika, go home!" You barked out. It was getting very clear that you were getting angry. Why the hell wasn't she leaving you alone? "As much as you'd love to have me out of your hair, and you will, don't you think it's about time to see how far you've gotten on my clothes?" Your feet halted and let out a sound of frustration. The duo behind you paused as well. She was right. You hated when she was right. It wasn't hard to see that. "Come on and bring the damn horse then!" You snapped at her, and the mare didn't need to be told twice before stopping at your side. Today was really shaping out to be more trouble than what it's worth.