Chapter Three: The Only Road I've Ever Known

[Simon Toews]

(Fire is still in progress, but I'm posting this anyway. Spoilers for that story if you haven't read it on RDI, obviously)

Nothing was the same. Tahlia was off on some vague scam with another man, and while the occasional visit or phone call was great, he was left sitting alone in an apartment that she’d acquired from a different “other man”. Cozy and luxurious as it was, it just didn’t feel like home. It didn’t feel like “him”. The place was a constant reminder that, despite everything, despite the dreaded L word getting dropped, she wasn't entirely his. Such time only brought images he didn't, couldn't bring himself to face. In his heart, he began to wonder if she ever would or ever could be what he needed. He knew what often happened on cons she ran. He didn't want to hear the moans, envision the wandering hands. He didn't want many things.

What he needed was a distraction. He needed to clear his head, learn to live without carrying the self destructive hatred that he fueled him for so damn long. The question that lingered in his mind was whether or not he could. The weight of the lost and dead had been on his shoulders for so long, he wasn’t sure such a thing was possible.

Escape was easy. He had vehicles stashed all over the city. Granted, none of them were really his, of course, but the options were most certainly there. He packed a pair of small bags and with one call and a promise to Tahlia later, he was ready to go.

Sliding into the driver's seat of a black 72 Charger, he felt a bit more comfortable. This felt familiar. This was the place he lived. The engine roared to life, the vehicle seemingly trembling and ready for their journey. There was no destination, but at the moment, that suited him just fine. Those scarred fingers moved the dial, searching for a station he could enjoy. A bit of Whitesnake crackled to clarity through the speakers, bringing a smile to his lips.

“Here I go again.”

The Charger rumbled it’s way down the streets, little by little leaving Rhy’din in the rearview. As the landscape became more and more sparse, and the atmosphere became quieter and quieter, Simon found the voices nagging in the back of his head dim more and more. There was so much out there people often failed to notice in this widespread open country. The relatively small area that made up the central hub of Rhydin could sometimes feel like the entire universe, but there was so much more out there, utterly unconcerned with the goings on of the world at large.

There wasn't a building in sight on this dusty road. Just the sand, occasional crop, and a sprawling, blue sky, cloudless and perfect in the morning sun. His arm hung out the window, the warm air whipping at his ink-riddled skin. This was good. This was peaceful. This was free.

The only thing he had to focus on was the road ahead, the white lines whipping past in a visual staccato. Blue eyes stared out from behind dark sunglasses, for the first time in a week the doubts, worry, and confusion in his mind completely silenced.

Simon drove until the sun began to slowly disappear in the horizon, the sky fading into a brilliant masterpiece of oranges, blues and purples. It called so many memories to the forefront of his mind. Things he'd forced himself to forget over the years. Days on the run, hiding out from the law. Long drives to clear his head as a younger man. And then...Cici. How many times had they hopped in the car and gone on a road trip, the tiny, smiling little one, her dark hair in pigtails, singing along to the radio, just a hint off-key. It didn’t matter to him. He'd thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Cici. His Cici. When he glanced over, he could almost see her sitting there, bouncing and ready for another adventure.

“Where are we going, Daddy?” She’d ask him.

He would reach over and flick one of those dangling tails, making her giggle.

“I dunno, baby girl.” He'd say with a grin. “That's why it's an adventure.”

“Like the stories?”

“Just like the stories. You and me, baby girl.”

“Always?” She'd ask.

“And forever. “

But she wasn't there. She hadn't been there for 11 years, and she never would be again. So many years had been spent trying to bury that pain. To avoid it. So many years in a haze of drugs, booze, women and violence. Then along came Tahlia. The woman he never saw coming. Without meaning to, she'd filled a hole deep in his soul. Given him something to fight for, something to live for. So much time spent pursuing an end and suddenly, he didn’t feel the need to chase it. She’d started a fire that had spread and consumed him. That was Tahlia Faras.

Suddenly, none of the other things seemed to matter. Not the fights, not the next drink, and most definitely not the end.

He chewed on a chili dog, leaning against the car at a roadside diner whenhis phone chirped out its warning. The smirking face of the redhead appearing on the screen, dressed to the nines. A grin crossed his lips as he snapped a quick shot of the sunset, his thumbs typing out a quick message.

“Wish you were here.”

[Simon Toews]

Day turned to night turned to day over and over again. Roadside motels, small town inns, and truck stop eateries became the way of life for the next week. All the while, he kept in touch as best he could with the redheaded con artist off God knew where doing God knew what. Not particularly anxious to dwell on the particulars of what she was up to (or really, who she was with), he kept conversation to the basics. Stuff he'd seen, how he was doing, where the next stop was. It wouldn't do to get all jealous and worked up. That was completely contrary to the agreement! The almost entirely unspoken agreement they'd made when they started shacking up together.

But, then...that was before the “L” word got dropped. Now, everything was far more complicated. Now he wanted her. He wanted her for himself, not to share. It was stupid, and naive, and completely against who he knew her to be. Hell, it was completely against who he often declared himself to be. Simon had her love...but exactly what in the hell did that even mean with people like them? And was he even still that person? Was he even in a place to know what he wanted when even he wasn’t sure the man he’d been hadn’t been lost in that fire?

He shook his head, coming out of those dangerous thoughts and back to the present. The window down, sunglasses upon his face, and wind whipping through his hair, Simon drove on. His attentions returned not a moment too soon as the engine made a whining noise and the Charger began to cough and sputter. A frown pulled his lips downward as the vehicle rolled to a stop along the gravel shoulder of the road. “Shit…” he muttered to himself, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the car.

The moment he popped open the hood he was hit in the face with a plum of smoke. He waved it away, coughing and peering down into the engine. Simon was a fair enough mechanic, but that was when he was in a garage with drawers full of tools. He looked around, finding nothing but road stretching miles in front and behind him, and just miles of sand and dirt to either side, fading off into distant mountains. In short, he was a screwed. “Mother fucker!” he yelled kicking the tire in frustration.

Alright, he decided, you let the bad in, Simon. Now let’s deal with it. He could start walking onward and hope there was a town nearby...or go back 25 or so miles in the other direction...either choice wasn’t exactly appetizing with that sun beating down upon him. At least he had a few bottles of water stashed in the cooler, but even then...walking. Fuck that.

He decided to take one last look at the engine. Maybe a hose came loose or something simple. No harm in checking. Simon leaned in as much as he could, peering down into the compartment, trying to see through the smoke. He barely even registered the sound of a truck pulling up ahead of him, grinding to a rest along the shoulder with him.

“Havin’ a bit a’ trouble?” A feminine voice called out to him.

Simon glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of her. 5’7”, brown hair with natural dirty blonde highlights tied back in a pony tail, eyes hidden behind a pair of aviators. Her slender frame clad in a pair of tight blue jeans and a black tanktop. Behind her, a big Ford pick-up rumbled. Some women he’d known would have looked like Ellie Mae Clampett, but the ride seemed to suit her, even on that first glance.

“Yeah…” he grumbled. “Was just rollin’ along and she took a shit.”

“Mind if I take a look?” she asked.

“You know about cars?”

“No, I just ask to see strangers broken down engines for fun.” She said, a little smirk appearing as she approached. The stranger pulled off her glasses, revealing big, round eyes that held a stunning myriad of colors. Blue, green, brown...it was hard to pinpoint an exact color. Her brows knit together as she looked down. “Well...definitely somethin’ goin’ on with your radiator. Might be cracked somewhere. You been gettin’ this beauty take care off on the reg?”

He scrunched his face, and it was all he needed to tell her. The woman chuckled and shook her head. “C’mon, man...gotta give a little love to these older gals....”

“Well, I just kinda...picked this one up.” He explained. No need to tell her that it wasn’t...entirely legally procured.

“Tell you what.” she said. “My father-in-law loves this kinda stuff. He’s way better at this than even me. So, whattaya say we hitch the old girl up and I bring it on over?”

Good lord, and he thought HE was naive. Part of him wanted to lecture her about picking up a complete stranger on the road. The old broken down car bit was a favorite of carjackers and thieves. And he would know...he’d done it a few times back in the day.

“You sure?” he asked her.

“Yeah, not a problem.” She said, turning. That was when he saw the grip of a pistol out the back of her jeans.

Okay, maybe not so naive. The pair of them managed to hitch the car up and he climbed into the passenger side.

“What’s your name, Sleeves?” she asked. Simon glanced at his tattooed arms a moment getting the nickname before responding.

“Simon.”

She put her sunglasses back on and threw the car into gear. “Kate. Kate Wilder.”

[Kate Wilder]

Kate gripped the wheel, side eyeing the man she'd picked up, his beautiful Charger dragging like a corpse behind them. A shame, she thought. Car like that would've been a dream for her.

Then there was the owner. Tough, rugged good looks drew you in, despite the tattoos covering his arms and creeping out beneath his collar telling you to stay away. But he was quiet. Reserved. Most men she'd met in these parts would've been staring at her tits or ass. Maybe even made some sort of clumsy, macho pass at her. But he looked her in the eye and spoke respectfully. That earned the stranger some points in her book.

“So, where about you from, Simon?” She asked, breaking the lingering silence.

“Out east. Towards the coast.” He informed her.

“City boy, huh?” She smirked.

“Somethin’ like that.” He grinned, hooking an arm out the window as he fished around his pocket for a pack of smokes. He drew a cigarette out with his teeth and paused. “Do you mind?”

Kate waved him off and he lit the cigarette. Simon blew the smoke out the window. “How ‘bout you?”

She nodded ahead. “Little town we're headed to called Noble. Few miles up ahead.” Kate once thought of Noble as the sort of place where dreams went to die. When they went on the lam, she couldn’t get far enough away. Pops didn’t want to go to far away though. He found the farmhouse and restored it himself, living outside the borders of Noble. Hidden away, but close enough to return if things ever changed. Katie wanted to just keep running, but Virgil wouldn’t hear of it. This was home.

She’d been immediately taken in by Virgil and Nan when they met. Her own were gone too early. But the Marstons, or at least Virgil and Nan were good people and they loved her. That’s all that mattered and that was why she stayed.

She glanced over to him as she drove. “So, what brings a guy like you out to my little piece of nowhere?”

Simon turned his gaze to her. “Just needed a change of scenery, I guess.”

“Mm.” She nodded. “Vague.”

SImon laughed a bit. “Yeah, well, that’s kinda my way. I’ve been through some stuff lately, needed to clear my head. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Well, THAT, I can get my head around.” She smiled. God knew she’d seen her share of troubles that made her want to just pack up and drive and never stop. “And how’s that going for ya?”

“Not great.” He deadpanned.

Kate couldn’t help the chuckle that left her. “Well, hopefully Pops will take a looksee and get you back on the road to self-discovery.”

“You put it that way, sounds like I should be writing a book.”

“Oh yeah. A book full of vague references. 200 pages of ‘And then someone who mighta been me did a thing and there were consequences for better or worse.’” She said with a smirk.

Simon eyed her a moment, a little smile on his lips. “You’d read it.” he said in a confident tone.

“Oh yeah, stranger. Cover to cover.”

[Simon Toews]

The truck rolled to a stop at the foot of a dirt road right before sunset. The farm spread out far and wide, stalks of corn surrounding the place like a miniature forest. A barn and a stable off to one side while a cozy two story farmhouse was set in front of them. Simon peered around as Kate hopped down. “Here's home.”

“Katie-girl? That you?” A voice called out from the barn. His voice was like gravel. A low rumbling drawl with a texan twang. Simon didn’t need to see him to feel a touch intimidated.

“Yeah, Pop. I brought company.” She called back.

The man who stepped out looked every bit like an old cowboy. Tall, lean, with silver hair swept back and a thick grey pushbroom mustache upon his upper lip. “So I see.” He said, looking over the stranger on his property.

Simon could tell the man immediately smelled trouble on him, but he didn’t seem all too concerned. Virgil wiped his hands on a rag, a lazy, amiable smile on his ruggedly handsome face. He moved over to him and offered a hand. “How's it goin’? Simon Toews.”

The old man glanced at his tatted, deformed hand for only a second before taking it in a firm handshake. Not to be outdone or mocked as a city boy, he squeezed right back. That got a little grin out of the old cowboy. “Ya got a good handshake, kid. Too many young'uns come at ya with a dead fish. I can respect that. Virgil Marston, though most folks round here just call me Pop.”

Simon smiled and released his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Marston.”

Virgil laughed “Shit, kid, you ain't the girl’s prom date. Virgil. Or Pop. Whichever suits ya.”

The old man glanced around him at the downed vehicle, grey eyebrows rising as he stepped around. He whistled, approaching the vehicle. “Now, that is a thing of beauty. What is she? 71?”

“72.” Simon corrected with a smirk. He watched the old cowboy lean into the window and look around.

“What’s wrong with ‘er?”

“Well, that’s what I’m hopin’ you can tell me.” Simon responded.

Virgil snickered, shaking his head with faux indignation. “Damn kids. Driving a work of art around, don’t even know how to take care of it.” He smirked to Simon and stepped around to the front of the car. “Pop the hood will ya?”

Simon walked up to the door, leaning in and hitting the release. Virgil planted himself over the engine compartment. “So, where’d Katie find you, kid?”

Simon came over, watching him with his tatted arms crossed. “Broke down in the ass end of nowhere.”

“Yeah...that’s where she finds most of her strays.” He chuckled, squinting at the engine compartment. “What brings you out this way, son?”

“Had to get away for a bit.”

Virgil eyed the tattooed stranger. If trouble were personified, it would look like Simon Toews. Still, Virgil kept that calm, amiable exterior going. “You in bad with the law?”

That gave Simon a laugh and a shake of the head. “Nah. Not this time anyway.”

In all reality, he probably should have been...but this was Rhy’din and Calloway was gone. The Watch didn’t seem to have much interest in taking him down, so...no. The law wasn’t what he was running from.

“Ah.” Virgil said with a knowing smirk. “Lady, then?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He responded.

“Well, kid...not much I’m gonna be able to tell ya right now. I’ll wanna get ‘er in the garage and get a better look at what’s gone wrong here. You’re welcome to stay, if ya want.”

Simon shot him a bemused look. That wasn’t an offer he’d much received from random strangers. Not when you looked like him. “Sure! Just set up in the barn?”

Virgil snorted and glanced his way with a quirked brow. “Only if ya like sleepin’ in horse shit.”

Alright. This guy was too nice for his own good. “In your house?”

Virgil shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”

“Not that I ain’t thankful for the offer but...I’m a perfect stranger. You ain’t worried I’m gonna do somethin’?”

“You plannin’ on it, kid?” Virgil eyed him...Simon knew that look, confident, threatening and calm all at once.. It was one he’d often used, but Virgil had perfected it. Virgil wasn’t one to mess with.

“No, sir. Just sayin’.”

“Kid, one thing you oughta know about me...I’m always ready, I’m always armed...and if ya make a move on me, Katie, or my little Millie, I’ll put ya down before you even know what hit ya.” Virgil said cooly. Nothing in the man’s tone suggested that it was an idle threat or hot air. Simon liked him.

“Millie?” He asked. He hadn’t been told of a Millie.

“My granddaughter. Katie’s girl.”

Something cold spread through Simon’s chest. The mere idea gave him an sudden, panicking chill. He hadn’t really spent any time around a kid since Cici. And now, he was going to be stranded in the heart of the boonies with a kid.
“So,” Virgil continued. “I’ll ask again. You gonna be a problem?”

Simon shook his head. “No. No sir.”

[Simon Toews]

Simon stepped into the guest room of the cozy little farmhouse. The faint smell of mothballs and wood on the fire permeated throughout the place. The room was sparsely appointed, a dresser with a mirror, a night stand, and a brass framed bed the only furniture to be found.

He set his bag upon the bed and looked in the mirror. The bags under his eyes showed a man who had pushed the limits of how long he could stay awake behind the wheel. The car breaking down was probably a mixed blessing. What he wouldn’t give for the redhead back home to wrap her arms around him from behind, press her cheek against his back, and then curl up against his side in bed.

Simon was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a creaking floorboard. He turned his gaze toward the sound, finding a young girl, maybe 8 or 9. Dark brown hair, light blue eyes and her hair up in the same kind of pigtails Cici used to wear. The girl smiled and waved to him. Suddenly, he was back in that apartment, pouring himself and Cici some cereal. Laying down in front of the TV to chomp away. It felt as if his heart was being squeezed in a vice. Still, he managed a smile and a wave.

“Who are you?” She asked him in that sweet, curious tone.

He eyed her a moment before responding. “I’m Simon.” He said turning toward her. “And you must be Millie.”

Her brows raised. “You know me?”

He couldn’t help the chuckle as he crouched before her. “The famous Millie? Sure do, little lady. Your ma told me all about ya.”

She grinned bashfully, a little giggle leaving her. Simon offered a hand to her, the little girl taking it. “Nice to meetya, kiddo.” He said

Millie cocked her head, looking at his tattoos. “You got lotsa drawings on you.”

He glanced down. “Yeah, s’pose I do.”

“You use a marker? I did that once and mama was ready to whup me.” she said with all the seriousness of a secret agent.

He couldn’t help but laugh, his head shaking. “No, these were a little more difficult to get than just a marker.”

“...a crayon?” she asked with a squint, trying to imagine what would be more difficult than a marker. That one had Simon belly laughing.

“Millie.” Kate said stepping up the stairs. “Don’t bother our guest.”

Simon waved her off. “Ahhhh, she ain’t no bother. We’re fast friends, right?” He said raising a hand for a high five.

“Right!” Millie said and slapped his hand. “Simon was telling me about his doodle arms!”

She gave the stranger a questioning look and he mouthed “tats.”

“He was, huh?”

“Yeah.” Millie nodded. “Got em done with a crayon.”

“Oh, he did, did he? Well, fast friends.” She said, a pointed look at Millie. “I hate to break up the gab sesh, but it’s time for someone to go wash up for supper.”

The little girl whined, but Kate just shot her a look. “Go on, now.”

As Millie ran off, Kate turned those brilliant eyes on Simon, a little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re pretty good with kids, I take it?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” he shrugged.

The single mom leaned against the doorway, eyeing him. “Got kids of your own?”

His face barely changed, despite the sinking feeling inside. “No. Not anymore.”

It took a moment to sink in, but then she got it. Her lips parted, her face flooding with sympathy. “Oh...oh, Jesus. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine. It was...a long time ago.” He said, holding up a hand.

“Well...I’ve got some dinner cooking, if you wanna get settled in and join us, you’re more than welcome.” She smiled. “Until then...make yourself at home...Doodle arms.” A smirk played across her lips as she left Simon standing there.

Cici weighed heavily on his mind. God that little girl reminded him of her. It brought that old, familiar ache. The one he spent years trying to suppress with violence, drugs, alcohol or women...now, after leaving all that behind, he didn’t know just how to deal with it.

[Simon Toews]

Heat. Screams. Gunfire. It was all around him. Simon ran towards the door, back in his room at the old factory. The second his hand touched the knob, he was scalded and withdrew. Smoke filled his vision, his nose, his lungs. Those screams continued from the other side, urging him on desperately..

Simon reeled back and kicked the door open with all his might. Fire filled his old living space, so bright and hot he could barely see. The screams continued as he brought his arm to shield his face and pushed onward, his limbs becoming heavier and heavier with every step. It was like somebody had attached a chain to his back and kept pulling. Figures ahead were barely silhouettes in the raging flames as he fell to the ground on his hands and knees.

He remembered that scream. It was one he’d heard in his nightmares for years. Simon couldn’t see her face yet, but it was etched on his memories, clear as day. Cici. Terror in her young eyes as he crawled, helpless to save her.

And the other...blonde. Curvaceous. Trouble personified. Tahlia had swept through his life like a tornado. Reawakening a fire in him that had died with Cici. Now, the two were together, struggling against invisible bonds, screaming for him to help them.

Simon’s muscles ached and strained, dragging his impossibly heavy body across the hot floor. Every bit of his body and soul felt overexerted, drained. And then the third figure stepped forward. He’d half expected to see Cotter standing there. Just as it had been the day Cici was ripped away from him.

But it wasn’t. As Simon’s gaze turned upward, all he saw was himself.

A cigarette hung from his lips, his eyes lost to shadow. The cherry glowed with a hellish orange light as he took a drag. The smell of gasoline filled his nostrils suddenly, and he wasn’t in his old home anymore. Suddenly, he was in that old warehouse from 11 years ago. Cici and Tahlia knelt in the puddle of gasoline, both of them drenched and wailing.

“Please…” he tried to shout. But his voice only came out as a whisper. His doppleganger stared down with those dark eyes and flashed a bright, toothy grin. The shadow Simon held up that cigarette as if presenting it.

“Please…” Simon begged again.
Simon’s stomach turned as the shadowy version of himself flicked the cigarette away, sending it tumbling slowly into the puddle. The weighed down fighter screamed and writhed, trying to move, but couldn’t budge even an inch as the flames roared to life, rushing towards Tahlia and Cici, his cries echoing into nothing as the inferno engulfed them.

He lurched upright in his bed, his body covered in a cold sweat. That world was gone. Here, it was quiet. Peaceful. The sound of crickets creeped in through the window as he tried to catch his breath. A dream. It was only a dream…

Simon wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to even out his breathing. He closed his eyes and then grabbed his jeans.

Moments later he stood out on the porch, the sky littered with bright, brilliant stars. A cigarette raised to his lips, the flame illuminating his face briefly as he lit the tip. It *was* incredibly peaceful out here. Coming from a place that was full of noise and bodies, standing along in the middle nowhere surrounded by nothing but open land as far as the eye could see was an odd comfort.

The screen door behind him creaked open, drawing his attention back. Kate stood in a pair of PJ pants and a tank top, her hooded sweatshirt pulled tight around her slender frame. She lifted her chin toward him, a little smirk on her face.

“Night owl, huh, Doodlearms?”

Simon grinned. “Yeah, that’s me. Burnin’ the midnight oil.” He took a drag and blew it out the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t wake you, did I?”

Kate shook her head and stepped out, surveyed her property a moment. Simon had to admit, she was a looker. There was a time not so long ago, those eyes alone might have done him in. She turned those multi-colored hues upon him, glancing at the cigarette in his hand. “You bring enough for the rest of class or what?”

“Oh. Right.” He said, fishing in his pocket. “My manners.” He let her draw one out and quickly lit it for her.

Kate took a drag, holding that smoke in a while before letting it glide out from her nostrils as she gazed at the farm in the moonlight. “So, what do you do back home, Simon?” She asked appraising his tatooed form. “I don’t imagine you’re a kindergarten teacher or a preacher, lookin’ like that.”

Simon looked down at his arms a moment. “You implyin’ somethin’?” he said, feigning offense.

She snorted. “Nah. You’re a picture of well-adjusted. The tats and scars wouldn’t terrify a room full of children at all.”

Simon smirked, a quiet laugh escaping him. “I’m sorta in-between things at the moment...”

Kate watched as if waiting for him to finish. When it became clear he hadn’t planned to, she continued for him. “Buuuut, Kate, I used to...what? Ride dirtbikes for a living? Hand-model?”

That got a genuine laugh out of him. “Oh yeah. Gonna move a lot of rings with these guys.” He flashed those busted meathooks.

“Hey, you don’t know.” She smirked. “Those puppies are so messed up, they might make the jewelry look even better.”

Kate leaned her hip against the railing, taking a drag off her cigarette and looked him in the eye. “Come on. Level with me.”

“I was a fighter.” He admitted.

“Like a boxer?”

“Sorta. Cage. Bare knuckle.” he clarified.

“That makes sense.” She said, squinting and nodding. “Were you good?”

“Well, not to sound arrogant...but yeah. I was pretty damn good.” He nodded.

Kate shot him a toothy grin, taking another drag. “So? What made you quit?”

He snorted. “What makes every man quit somethin’ dangerous?”

“Castration?” She deadpanned, getting a laugh out of him. “So. You found yourself a girl, huh? And where is she on this road to self-discovery?”

“Off somewhere with some other guy.”

Her brows raised. “Wow. Damn. That’s some shitty luck.”

“No,” Simon laughed, “It’s not like that. She’s working a job.”

Kate leveled a stare at him. “And I’m sure that job is completely legal and on-the-level.” she said sarcastically.

“It probably isn’t.” He admitted. If he was honest, he didn’t quite understand the point of the whole thing, other than getting money, but it wasn’t like he was some pure, good intentioned angel his whole life either. Hell the amount of blood on his hands alone would terrify Kate if she knew.

The young mother took a long drag, studying the stranger before her. “Do I need to worry about you, Simon?” She asked slowly, pointedly. “Are you gonna be a problem for us?”

The corners of his mouth twitched just a bit before he shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m just a guy trying to figure things out.”

Kate nodded. “Good. Because you do anything to put me, Pops or my little girl in trouble? They ain’t gonna find your body. We clear.”

She was ballsy. Tough. Simon liked that. “Crystal.”

“Good.” She said stomping out her cigarette. “Then we can be friends!”

Kate smiled and went past him, giving his arm a squeeze. “Don’t stay up too late. Mornin’ comes early ‘round here.”

[Simon Toews]

Morning most certainly did come early on the farm. The unwelcome sound of a rooster letting out an ear-splitting crow tore Simon out of a dreamless sleep. He bolted upright in the bed reaching around frantically for some kind of weapon that wasn’t there.

It took a moment before he got a grip on where he was and he managed to calm down. Simon stood, clad in a form fitting tanktop and pajama pants, and walked to the window looking out on the sprawling field, the early morning sunlight warming his inked skin. Virgil was heading out to start his work in the fields.

A knock came from the door. “You decent?” Kate called.

“At what?” He joked.

She mimicked the sound of a rimshot and peeked her head in. “Breakfast is on if you’re hungry.”

“Breakfast.” He said with a squint. “I gotta say, I cannot remember the last time I had a real breakfast.”

“Oh, hoho…” Kate chuckled. “Well, you’re about to enter the thunderdome of Breakfasts, my friend. Bacon, eggs, toast, pancakes if you want, I made us up some ham hash, and we got fresh milk and freshly squeezed orange juice. The woiks.” she said, affecting an accent.

“Jesus.” He said, dumbfounded. “That’s a lot of food,”

“You’re gonna need it, doodles. Trust me.” She said ruefully.

“How about coffee?” He asked with a smirk.

“I think I can arrange that.” Kate told him, pushing off the doorway. “See you downstairs.”

[Simon Toews]

Kate brushed past Millie, leaning down and planting a kiss atop her head without breaking stride. The little girl put on a big cheesy grin, letting out one of those little kid “heheeeeeee” giggles that never failed to get a chuckle out of her in return. The stranger in her house probably should have been some concern to her. The tattoos, the scars, that quiet sense of danger about him...it should have been off-putting.

But here she was, making a space for him at her breakfast table, letting him sleep in her home. Maybe it was the kind, quiet way he spoke to her, or the somewhat sad, weary look in his eyes, but there was something about him that she trusted. Plus, he’d earned points by being nice to Virgil.

Pops was the one man in her life she knew she could truly count on. Tough, seemingly fearless, but kind, protective of those he loved. How he’d managed to retain such a good heart with everything that had happened was beyond her.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a creak came from the stairs. Simon stood at the foot of the staircase, a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans on his slim, toned form, his blonde hair just short of messy. That man must have broken hearts wide-open back home, she thought.

“Mornin’ Doodlearms!” Millie said with a happy little wave as she loaded up her plate.

“Millie!” Kate exclaimed, a little mortified, but also trying not to laugh. “Rude.”

“I’m sorry. MISTER Doodlearms.” Millie corrected herself with a sullen tone.

Simon’s face lit up in a laugh. “Mornin’ Ms. Munchkinface.” He said, moving into the kitchen and to the plates, offering a nod to the blushing single mother. “Kate.”

“Don’t encourage her.” Kate gave him a comically weary look. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Black.” he responded.

Kate let out an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes. “What is it with guys and black coffee? Is that supposed to make you tough because you drink something that tastes like burnt, sweaty ass?”

Simon laughed, loading up on ham hash. “I don’t know, I just like it like that.”

“Well, have you TRIED cream and sugar? I promise, it’s WAY better.”

He put on that bemused little smirk and shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

Kate’s eyes bugged out. “Jesus, Simon. Okay. That’s it. Experiment time.”

Simon looked over to Millie, deadpanned. “She always like this?”

Millie’s eyes flicked from her mother and back to Simon. And she nodded.

“Hush, you. You’re supposed to be on my side.” Kate said, pointing at the child while pouring the cup. She added two cream and sugar, stirred it, and slid it over to him, a smug, confident look on her face as she crossed her arms.

Simon’s blue eyes stayed on the light brown beverage a moment before shifting up to her. He reached over and took the cup in his hand, staring at her like they were playing a game of poker. The mug was raised in a form of salute to her before being brought to his lips for a sip.

Simon froze for a moment, staring off at nothing as Kate waited with bated breath.

“Ohmygod…” he whispered.

“RIGHT?!” She said, slapping the counter.

“Seriously?” He said, taking another sip. “Yeah. Yeah, that is WAY better.”

“Told you! I told you!” She grinned ear to ear. “Next time we’re going out and getting a fancy coffee.”

Millie just gave them both a look like they were crazy. Kate sipped her own cup, catching the look. “What?”

“Coffee’s gross and you’re both weird.”

Simon snorted into his coffee.

[Simon Toews]

To say that working on the farm was hard would be an understatement. Every bit of that big breakfast served him well as Virgil ran him ragged doing odd jobs. How the old man had the energy and strength to do it all was beyond Simon, especially with the hitch in his step. It was sunset when he was finishing up repairs on a gate. 4 hours had spent wrangling up escaped pigs.

Simon was hot, sore and exhausted. His shirt left hanging on a fence post, his tattoos and scars were left on display. The sound of boots crunching on the dirt caught his attention. When Simon looked back, Virgil was approaching. “How’s it goin’ kid?”

Simon rose up, turning to face him. “I feel like I went 20 rounds with an angry bull.”

“Pigs get the best of ya?” the old man asked with a smirk.

Simon grinned and glanced over his shoulder. “Bastards are persistent, I’ll give ‘em that.”

Virgil glanced over the ink that covered his arms, shoulders and creeped down onto his chest like tendrils. “I gotta ask kid...what’s with all the ink?”

“Reminders.” Simon said simply.

“Well, shit, kid, that’s why they got these little gadgets called notebooks...” Virgil chuckled.

Simon shot him an amused little smirk. “I been through some things. Things I need to carry with me. These are my way of keeping them alive and ownin’ them.” He grabbed the shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it closed a he went.

Virgil regarded him curiously. “Who are you, Simon?” He asked, walking with him. “What did you get yourself into?”

“Long, sad story.” Simon responded. “What about you, Virgil? What’s your story? You don’t strike me as a lifelong farmer.”

“I don’t? What makes you say that?”

Simon shrugged. “Seen a lot of injuries in my time. Don’t imagine that limp came from a milkin’ mishap.”

Virgil studied him, considering whether or not to share that with him. The boy had a lot of questions for someone who played things so close to the vest. “I was a sheriff.” he said, finally.

“Yeah. That makes sense.” Simon nodded. “What happened?”

“Town went corrupt. Most of the department went corrupt. Those who didn’t...well.” Virgil canted his head toward his leg. “Katie n’ me packed our bags and hightailed it outta there.”

Simon furrowed his brow in surprise. “You ran?”

“You disapprove?” Virgil asked with that sly little smirk of his. “Suppose you think I shoulda gone in guns blazing. Takin’ the whole corrupt system down or died tryin’?”

Simon shrugged. He had to admit...it WAS what he’d have done.

“I had Katie and Millie and a bum leg to worry about.” He said. “Those girls are what matter to me. Protectin’ them is what’s important to me, not revenge. I ain’t sayin’ I’m entirely proud of what I did...but they’re alive and safe because of it and I’d do it again.”

“You don’t wish you’d tagged ‘em back?”

Virgil’s grin dropped slowly, his eyes drifting away. There was something there behind his body language. A sadness or more likely, regret. The old man turned his eyes back up at him and shook his head. “No.”

Nothing about it suggested that Simon should press him further, so Simon just walked with him back to the house.

[Simon Toews]

Simon stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered, drying his hair with a towel. His muscles ached from the strain of a hard day's work. Even for a man in his physical condition, it wasn’t easy working on a farm. He snatched up a t-shirt and walked up to the window. Virgil was out in the barn already, working on the car.

That old man had more energy than he could have imagined. A total workhorse. Simon smirked, shaking his head.

“Darn it!” He heard a young voice exclaim across the hall. Simon stepped out and into the doorway, leaning a shoulder on one side.

“What’s with all the almost-cussin’ in here?” He asked. Millie sat at her desk looking frazzled, a math book open in front of her.
The little girl looked up at him pitifully. “Math. I hate it.”

“Yeah?” Simon pushed off the doorway and stepped over, peering down. “Multiplication, huh? Never really got the hang of that one, myself.”

Millie frowned up at him. “It’s hard.”

“Well, let me take a look…” he squinted. “Alright...5 times 13…” Simon screwed up his mouth, thinking. “That’s...18, ain’t it?”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “That’s addition.”

“Oh, right, right. Which one is multiplication?”

Millie did not look amused.

“Hey, I didn’t get much schoolin’ growin’ up.” Simon said, hands up. “Explain it to me.” He at least looked genuine.

Millie eyed him a moment before speaking again. “Okay. So, like, you have...like...2 times, I don’t know...4. That’s like going two plus two, but four times in a row.”

“Ohhhhh…” He said, feigning like he just figured it out. “So...basically, what we have here is…?”

“It’s double digits.” She said dejected. Simon smirked. The doubt was in her head.

“Right, but it’s pretty much 13 plus 13, but five times in a row. Isn’t it?” He rose his brow, looking to her. “Ooh, or 5 plus 5 thirteen times?”

Mille furrowed her brow “No, because…”. And then it clicked. Her eyes went wide. “I get it! I get it!”

She went right to scribbling down the problem. There weren’t very many academic topics he could help out with, but finding easier ways to get an overthinking mind around simple math concepts was well within his ability.

He slinked out of the room as she worked. Even from the hall, he could hear the tension in hushed voices coming from downstairs. Something was up. When Simon reached the bottom of the stairs, Virgil and Kate were in the midst of an argument.

“Look, she told me they’re out of town. I haven’t been into town in-” Kate was saying, pushing through the screen door.

“You don’t know when they’re comin’ back, kid! What happens when they do?” Virgil asked her.

“They won’t!” Kate countered.

“You don’t know that!”

Kate wheeled around on him. “Look. I can’t just stay here and hide the rest of my life. That town is my home. I should be able to go back there when I want.”

“Yeah, kid. You should. In a perfect world, ya would. But we gotta live in this one.” Virgil’s tone changed from chastising to soothing.

Kate’s eyes lowered a moment. “Pops…” Those brilliantly colored hues turned back up to the old man. “I’m going.”

“God damn it, girl, you ain’t got the sense the good lord gave a gopher. Them boys find you there, how brave you gonna be?” Virgil rumbled.

Simon stepped into the room before Kate could respond. “What’s goin’ on?”

Kate gave him one look. “You. You’re comin’ with me.” She turned to Virgil with a smirk. “See? Now I got back up if somethin’ goes down.”

The old man gave Simon a once over. He certainly LOOKED the part of someone you didn’t want to tangle with. “Fine.” He finally relented. “But things go south, you get the hell outta there, y’hear?”

“We will, Pops I promise.” She said, grabbing Simon by the arm and leading him away.

“Where...where are we going?” Simon asked, confused.

Virgil watched him getting dragged off, his brow creased with concern.

[Simon Toews]

The actual town of Noble wasn’t exactly a metropolis. A few shops, a couple bars and a restaurant or two were about the only attractions. The police force was small, but everyone knew who was really in charge.

Emmett and Lyle Marks had used their daddy’s influence to treat the town like their personal playground. Cops were paid off to look the other way while Callum and his boys ran their illegal operations. Drugs, weapons, gambling were all rampant with no signs of stopping.

But with the boys and their gang off on business in Teleford, the place was safe. Simon wasn’t entirely sure what Kate’s history was there, but he could tell there were some lingering demons. Whatever those were, Virgil seemed pretty concerned. It would be up to Simon to help if they came back.

Kate was behind the wheel of her pickup, a palpable enthusiasm running through her entire being. “Usually, I have to go all the way north to Sterling to get anything. It’s, like an hour drive. Total pain in the ass.”

Simon divided his attention between her and the setting sun. She seemed content in chattering away, so he just gave her a slight, amused little smile.

The truck passed into the town proper. A somber, wistful air fell over Kate. “I was born here.” She said. As they passed the grade school, she nodded. “My mama used to teach there.”

“Where ARE your parents?” He enquired.

Kate frowned and didn’t look over. “Gone.” She said simply.

Simon watched her a moment before turning away. “Sorry to hear that.”

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes focused ahead before a distant, wistful little smile crept onto her lips. “Mama was a teacher. Fourth grade. Loved her students, worked her ass off until she got sick. Used to say there wasn’t a soul alive could say they didn’t love Lily Wilder.”

Simon could see the fondness and pride in her eyes as Kate talked about her mother. It was something he couldn’t exactly say he knew, given his childhood...but the loss and pain in her voice was something he knew all too well.

“What did your old man do?” he asked.

“Daddy was a miner.” she told him. “Had the hugest hands...hands the size a’ your head. He had one of those voices, sounded like he gargled rock salt for a livin’. Tough, hard-drinkin’ man, but a total sweetheart. One time, I wanted play beauty shop, ‘n he let me put all manner of terrible make up on him.” she chuckled. “Mama said I made him look like a two dollar whore.”

Simon breathed out a little laugh. “I never knew mine.”

Kate glanced over from the wheel. “Your fam?”

“Nope.” he shook his head. “My father didn’t stick around and mom kicked me to the curb not long after..”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” She said sympathetically.

“Eh.” he shrugged. “Sometimes life ain’t nice.” Simon smirked to her.

“No.” She said. “It isn’t.”

Kate pulled into a parking spot in front of a bar. “Todds”, the sign read. She pulled down the visor and checked herself in the mirror.

“Alright…” she said, fixing a stray hair. “Let’s do this.”

[Kate Wilder]

The bar was in full swing, country music blaring over the crowd. The haze of smoke hung heavy as they made their way in, more than a few pairs of eyes trailing the pair of them to the bar.

Kate smirked as she leaned against the bar, speaking to the busy tender. “Hey, sugartits, how about a drink.” She said as gruffly and deeply as she could.

The girl behind bar was a slim, sexy thing with black hair and big, brown eyes. Clad in a midriff-baring tight tank top and jeans that almost seemed painted on. Tattoos snaked up her arms and onto her neck. She wheeled around, an angry expression on her face.

The anger turned immediately to surprise the moment she saw Kate. “Oh my god, Katie?!”

“Heya, Maisie.” Kate grinned, the pair of them leaning across the bar for an awkward hug. The girl’s face dropped, a wave of realization hitting her. She looked around, cautiously.

“What in the hell are you doin’ here?” she said quietly to Kate.

“Heard the boys were out of town tonight.” Kate responded, straddling a stool and settling down. “Figured I might come and check out the place while I can.”

Maisie eyed her worriedly. “Don’t get me wrong, hon, I’m glad to see you but...you don’t know what this place is like now, Katie.” She looked around. “It’s dangerous. Especially for you. If they come back-”

“Mais. It’s my home.” Kate said firmly. Maisie shut her eyes and shook her head. “Besides.” Kate continued, “I’ve got protection.”

Simon glanced up as she hooked a thumb back to him. As she spoke, he was surveying the crowd, the building. Assessing the dangers. Who were the biggest threats? Where were the exits? What could be used as a weapon? Maisie’s reaction to Kate set him on edge again. Instincts could not be denied. He was a survivor for a reason.

“Simon.” Kate called his attention. His head snapped in her direction suddenly, it immediately apparent that she had called his name more than once.

“This is Maisie. We go way back.” Kate introduced him.

Maisie was eyeing him up and down, a barely contained interest in her eyes. Simon put on his best amiable smile and took her hand. “Simon. Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure, stranger. Get you a drink?” Maisie asked, squeezing his hand.

“Sure. You got scotch?”

“I have Jack?” she offered.

“Works for me.” He accepted with a charming smile.

“Yeah, for me too. And a shot of Fireball.” Kate told her.

“Bathroom over there?” Simon hooked a finger to the right.

“Yeah, right around the corner.” Maisie nodded. Simon nodded a thanks and wandered on over. She watched as the tattooed stranger walked off, eyes on the backside contained in snug-fitting jeans.

“Hel-loooo, Simon.” she said in an intrigued sing-song. “So...what’s the deal there?” It was almost accusatory.

Kate gave her SUCH a look. “It’s not like that.”

“Why the hell NOT?” Maisie asked like she was crazy. “That is a fine piece a’ man.”

Kate glanced after him. “Well, first off, I’ve only known him, like...2 days.” She said, turning back to her old friend. “Second, I think he’s got a girl back home.”

“I don’t see no ring.” Maisie shrugged, pouring two glasses of whiskey with a smirk.

“Classy, Mais.” Kate rolled her eyes. The barkeep just grinned to herself while her friend took the shot, her eyes shutting as the liquor took effect. It had been a while since she’d done any serious drinking, her tolerance was practically shot. Time was she could go all night and then some.

“So, what have you been-”

Kate looked up from her drink. Maisie was staring straight ahead, wide-eyed in terror. She didn’t need to know what her friend saw. She could sense him. Only one thing could inspire that look.

“Katie. Mae. Wilder.” The drawling voice said behind her. Much of the bar had hushed to a whisper. “My God. I must be seein’ a ghost, eh boys? Because last I recall...she up and disappeared.”

She turned and eyed him, the look of a cornered animal in her eyes. The man was tall, lean. Dark hair slicked back, a dark layer of stubble upon his face. He walked toward her, lighting a cigarette. “What’s the matter, Katie Mae? You ain’t happy to see me? I’m happy to see you.”

“Wyatt…”She said, her voice trembling. Whatever bravado she’d had was gone.

“Where you been, Katie?” Those grey eyes stayed on her as he sat on a stool across from her. She just stared, her fingers clasping around her glass, ready to throw it. His eyes flicked to it and then back to her. “You gonna attack me, sweetheart? Hm? You gonna smash that glass against my head? Knock me out? Then what? Huh? You been off trainin’ to be a ninja or somethin’? You gonna take all a’ them out?” He sneered and glanced back, chuckling with his friends. Her eyes turned away from him, knowing he was right. There may be a way out of this, but that was not it.

“Naaaah. You ain’t gonna do that. So.” He said and nodded to her hand. “Why don’t you take your hand off that glass. And we’ll talk all friendly-like, yeah? Play a bit a’ catch up.”

Kate swallowed hard, still clutching the glass of whiskey so hard she thought it might shatter. Wyatt’s head tilted to one side. “No?” He nodded slowly and blew twin sets of smoke from his nostrils. “You know, you might be surprised to hear this. But they never found the old man’s body. You believe that? See, what I’m thinkin’...is that he might still be alive. And wherever you been hidin’...well, hell, I’m just plum convinced, that’s right where I’d find him.”

Katie could feel her pulse racing, her adrenaline pumping. Fear telling her to attack or run...knowing neither would end well for her...but then...she was getting the feeling that there was no way out of this night that didn’t end badly for her.

“So.” Wyatt said. “Where is he? Where’d you two run off and hide, huh?”

Silence.

When she didn’t respond, he slammed his fist on the bar, shaking the glasses and bottles.

“Answer me.”

Before she could say anything a body stepped in between her and Wyatt. Simon took up his glass and looked to Maisie like he didn’t even see the situation happening between Kate and the man.

“Thanks, hon.” He smiled to the bartender and took a sip of his whiskey.

Wyatt looked to his buddys with an incredulous grin, gesturing to the newcomer. Simon turned his back on him and looked to they wide-eyed Kate. “So.” He said to her. “You said you two go way back, huh?”

Wyatt, looked at him, malice in his eyes. “Hey. Buddy.”

Simon glanced behind him for only a second. “Ain’t your fuckin’ buddy, chief.” Paying absolutely no respect, he turned back to Kate. “So how far back we talking?”

Kate just stared at him, terrified of what would happen next.

“Hey, asshole!” Wyatt said.

Simon turned to him. “Excuse me. I’m talking to the ladies. Maybe watch your mouth.”

Wyatt eyeballed him dangerously for a long moment before he gave him a toothy, sneering grin. “You’re not from around here. So...maybe you don’t know who I am. But this is my town. We run this fucking town.”

“Yeah?” Simon said with a raise of his brows. “Nice place. You pick out the drapes?”

Wyatt narrowed his eyes. “Katie. You better tell your boyfriend here-”

“So, anyway.” Simon said, turning back to Kate.

Wyatt grabbed him by the shoulder and in a flash, Simon whipped around and in one swift motion, pinned his face against the bar and yanked his arm out behind him. An audible gasp rose from the room. Wyatt grit his teeth, red coming out from between them. Simon got close to his ear, eyes up and watching the others. “I’m gonna tell you this once, jagoff. Don’t ever put your hands me again. Y’hear me?”

Wyatt’s buddies began to move in but Simon jerked Wyatt’s arm upward, eliciting a groan from the pinned man. “You take another step, I break his arm.” He leaned in again. “Tell me that you understand, hoss.”

“I’m gonna rip your f-AGH!” Simon yanked again.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He spoke like it was polite conversation. “You go near Kate again. Talk to her. Put your hands on her. Hell, boy, you look at her in a way that displeases me...and things are gonna get very...VERY bad for you. You don’t know me. You have NO idea what I am capable of. Do not fuck with me.”

Kate did not know what to do. Part of her wanted to tell him to break the son of a bitch’s arm. Or worse. Satisfying as those images were, she realized that wasn’t the part of her that REALLY wanted to leave alive. “Simon…” she said in a shaky voice.

He glanced her way and nodded. Simon yanked Wyatt to his feet, and in one swift motion, put him in a chokehold and pulled the pistol out of the back of the man’s jeans, placing the barrel to his head. “We’re going to step outside now. And your little goon squad are gonna stay behind. Aren’t you?” He said. “Because if they don’t, I send you to the great hereafter. Got it?”

“You’re a fuckin’ dead man.” Wyatt snarled, blood running down his stubbled chin.

“Yeah.” Simon said. “I get that a lot. Move.”

Kate stuck close to him as they walked out carefully, through Wyatt’s friends. As soon as they got outside, Simon glanced to Kate.

“Kate. Go start the car, please?” he requested. She reached into her purse fumbling around for the keys as she ran. Every nerve was on edge, it felt like she couldn’t work her fingers properly, but she managed to get the keys in the door.

Simon’s eyes locked onto the pick up that wasn’t there when they’d arrived. That was definitely theirs. He slammed Wyatt up against the door, pinning him there, and pulled back the hammer on the pistol. Panic filled Wyatt’s eyes momentarily before he fired two shots into the tire before pistol whipping him across the face. Wyatt crumbled to the pavement, blood trickling from his forehead. Simon crouched down and grabbed him by the hair. “You forget you ever saw me or Kate. You go on with your life...or I’m going to rain hell down on you and this fucking town like you ain’t ever seen. I swear to God, I will burn you to a fuckin’ cinder. Do not Fuck with me.”

Simon threw him to the ground as Kate pulled the truck up behind him. Wyatt hit hard, scraping his face on the concrete with a grunt. Simon quickly hopped into the truck. “Let’s go.”

[Simon Toews]

It was dark. Oppressively, ominously dark. Aside from the headlamps, the moon was the only source of light to be had. It had been a few miles and there was no sign of them being followed. The pair of them silent. Not even a glance was shared between them the entire time, until now. He could feel her looking at him even if he didn’t see it.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” She said. “You don’t know what he can do.”

“Yeah, well, we shouldn’t have been there to begin with, should we?” He snapped back.

She stared. “I wanted just one night. One night where I wasn’t cowering away on that farm. One night where I could see my friends and not have to be afraid of him. He wasn’t supposed to be there. They were supposed to be gone.”

Simon glanced over to her, quiet for a moment. She would have to go back and admit to Virgil that he was right about everything. She was heartbroken, embarrassed, but worst of all, defeated. She didn’t need his badgering piled onto it. His eyes returned to the road. “Who is he?”

She glanced over, not responding at first, until they made eye contact.

“He’s Millie’s father.” She said quietly.

Simon couldn’t help notice that Millie never came up the entire time. “He know that?”

“No. He doesn’t know she exists.” Kate responded. “When I found out I was pregnant, I went to Virgil. Told him I had to get away from him.”

He glanced over. Most of it he could piece together. Who Virgil was to Wyatt and the relationship they shared.

“He came for me. Showed up at Virgil’s old place. So, I hid. He demanded to know where I was…” Kate looked out the window a moment, for a moment she was back there. “Virgil lied, even after they beat him. Busted his leg. Said he’d sent me away. So Wyatt shot him. Left him for dead.”

Kate swallowed hard and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “He barely survived the trip out of town.”

Simon’s brow creased in disbelief. “He shot his own father? Where the hell did you pick this guy up?”

“He wasn’t always like that…” She said.

“I hate to break it to you, but yeah he was. Fucker was just good at hiding it.” He scoffed, eyes ahead as she stared daggers, though she knew he was right.

“I was young. He was...dangerous.” She said.

“And that did it for you, huh?”

Kate watched him a moment. “I said I was young. I should have known what he was then, but whatever the reason, I didn’t. I just...I was lonely. I wanted to be loved and I thought that’s what it was. By the time I figured things out, I was too deep.”

Simon smirked and shook his head. “Happens to the best of us.” He knew damn well, he’d gotten hooked up with the wrong person a time or two in his life. Or...you know...was the wrong guy for a few girls. “He hasn’t found you?”

“He doesn’t know about the Farm. We’re far enough out of town and off the main road to avoid him getting curious...So, we’ve been safe.” She told him.

“Until now.” Simon said.

She glanced to him. “No. No, we’re...we’re still safe.” Kate nodded, almost numbly.

“I hope so. For both your sakes.”

[Simon Toews]

Kate and Simon came home surprisingly early that night, and with barely a word said outside of “Good night”, she retreated to Millie’s room and closed the door. Simon himself just gave the old man a nod and went to his room.

Virgil could guess how the night went. It wasn’t like Katie to be so short and distant. Something had to have happened back in town and he was pretty sure he knew what. Wyatt had once been the old man’s pride and joy. A strong, confident kid with all the potential for greatness in the world, corrupted and broken down into the beast he’d become.

He could still remember that night when his own son and the group of thugs he called friends showed up at his doorsteps demanding to know where Kate was. That night, he’d talked to his son, his own flesh and blood from in front of the barrel of a gun. His boy watched as his friends roughed him up. Took a crowbar to his knee. The moment that trigger was squeezed, he knew his son was gone. Replaced by...this. The wound healed, with Kate’s help, but there were scars that would never go away.

Virgil sat upon the porch, an acoustic guitar in his hand, and a cigarette hanging between his lips as he tuned the instrument by ear. Those sharp, hazel eyes flicked up over the miles and miles of farmland, leading out into the prairielands. The guitar tuned to his satisfaction, he took the cigarette from his lips, rested it in an ashtray on the bench armrest, gave the guitar a strum and began picking away at the strings,

“Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie
Where the coyotes wail and the wind blows free
And when I die don't bury me
Beneath the western sky on the lone prairie…”

His voice was that low rumble, yet somehow melodic and full of sorrow. His eyes glanced down to his plucking, fingers.

“Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie
These words came soft and painfully
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay
On his dyin’ bed at the break of day...”

Virgil picked up and took a drag of his cigarette, eyes sweeping across the expanse of land again. He exhaled in a long stream of smoke before resuming playing.

“But we buried him there on the lone prairie
Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free
In a shallow grave, no one to grieve
Beneath the western sky... on the lone prairie.”
The bang of the screen door snapped the old man back in the moment. Simon stood there, drawing a smoke out for himself with his teeth. He gave the old man an upwards nod and stepped out on to the porch.

“I like that. Nice song.” He nodded, accepting a lighter from Virgil and lighting up.

“Old cowboy song. One a’ my favorites.” Virgil said, taking back his lighter and lighting another one for himself. “My Granddad used to sing that to us when we was kids, my brother n’ me.”

Simon grinned through the plume of smoke.

“You got family, kid?” Virgil asked, eyes redirecting into the night.

Simon shook his head, “Nah. Never really knew my parents. Was in a foster home for a bit, but they weren’t ever family.”

Virgil’s eyes flicked his way a moment. “Sorry to hear it.”

Simon shrugged. “Never had much use for family.”

The old man regarded him with an amused little laugh. “Everybody needs someone. Family’s what you make of it.”

Simon thought back to what Kate had told him. Virgil’s own son...he couldn’t imagine what that had to be like. This wasn’t some drunken, violent asshole like the people he grew up around. Virgil, for all intents and purposes, was a decent, kind man. Probably poured every bit of love into that kid, just as Simon had done with Cici. Having that kind of love be thrown aside...that couldn’t have been easy.

“I saw him.” Simon said.

Virgil didn’t even look over. He just took a drag and exhaled a moment later. “I figured you might’a.”

“No offense. But he’s kind of an asshole.” Simon said wryly.

Virgil snickered. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s kind of a little shit, ain’t he?”

“How does that happen?” Simon asked after a good laugh.

Virgil seemed distant as he stared off, collecting his thoughts. “Man named Callum Marks. Lowlife with deep pockets and a con man. He rolled into town, got a bit of a crew...threw his money around. He was bleedin’ the town dry with debt to him. Eventually, he even had the sheriff’s department in his pocket.” The old man took one last drag and flicked it away.

“I saw what he was doin’. Saw the strongarm tactics he used to extort everyone he could and watched the goons with a fuckin’ badge look the other way. Wyatt was tough. But young and angry. Perfect target for a man like Marks. Promised my boy the world. Promised him power. When I started actually enforcin’ the law, messin’ with his business, he didn’t like it very much. By the time I was able to talk to Wyatt, he’d been turned against me.” He sighed and ran a hand through his silver hair. “I just didn’t know how far he’d fallen.”

Simon nodded slowly, stomping out his cigarette with heel of his boot. “Did you know Kate back then?”

A smile crossed the old man’s lips then. “Oh, hell. I known Katie all her life. Bein’ a cop in a small town, meant knowin’ everybody. And bein’ the one honest cop in that town later on, meant everyone knew, too.”

“She knew to go to you.” Simon asked, though it wasn’t really a question. Virgil nodded in response. “That had to be a tough decision.”

Virgil sniffed at the air and shook his head. “She was carryin’ my grandbaby.” Those hazel eyes turned to Simon. “My son might have been a rotten sumbitch...but that girl was family now. Wouldn’t take it back for the world.”

Simon smiled, but it faded. “If you saw him again...what would you say?”

The old man looked distant, sad for a moment, but a smile crept on out. “I’d tell him I love him. Even after all he done. I’d tell him I was sorry I wasn’t good enough a dad to keep him decent. I’d tell him…” A weary sigh made its way out of him. “I’d tell him he’s got a beautiful baby girl. And it’s a shame he’ll never know that.”

It was odd to hear, the amount of affection in Virgil’s voice. Even after all the bad that had been done, he still loved his son. It was odd, but Simon got it.

“Fatherhood.” Simon said. “Fucked up, ain’t it?”

Virgil grinned up at him. “Damn right, kid. Damn right.”

[Simon Toews]

Another early morning and another day of hard work ahead of him, Simon rose from his bed. The floorboards creaked as he made his way into the bathroom, those battered, misshapen knuckles turning on the faucet. The cool water splashed up onto his face removed what little sleep was left in him. As he straightened back up, he saw the man on the other side of the mirror.

As much as he’d like to pretend otherwise, that reflection was still the man he’d always been. Last night was only proof of it. All it took was one push and *that* guy stirred right awake. The dangerous, angry, violent bruiser who wanted to bash that little prick’s face into mush. It was only Kate and the man’s little posse that had held him at bay.

That guy was supposed to be done. He was supposed be left behind, he thought. A knock at the door pulled his attention away.

“I gotta potty!” Came that demanding, urgent little girl’s voice from the other side.

Simon breathed a little laugh. “Be right out.” He dried his face, took one last look and opened the door. Millie beamed up at him and gave a little wave. “Hi.”

“Heya, little sprout.”

“Move. Gotta tinkle.” Her sweet, polite demeanor completely dropping as she brushed past him and slammed the door behind her, leaving him standing out in the hall.

Simon didn’t see Kate before he went out into the fields. Nor did her see her all day as he worked with Virgil. There was little conversation to be held there beyond the job. They were focused on the tasks at hand, which suited Simon just fine.

It was about 2 PM when he finally went in to take a break and grab something to drink. Kate was in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of lemonade. Both of them stopped at the sight of each other, an awkward moment of panic between the two that neither truly understood.

She managed a smile and offered the jug to him. “Somethin’ to drink?”

A little grin worked its way out and he nodded. “Please.”

Kate grabbed a glass and went to work as he made his way to the sink to wash up. He heard the glass clink down hard on the countertop and glanced back to find Kate propped up on both hands, her back to him. Something was up.

“Look…”She started. “I’m sorry about last night. I…” the words caught in her throat and she shook her head. “It was stupid to go back there.”

She turned around and wrapped her arms around herself, looking entirely vulnerable. “I just...that was my home. I wanted-”

“I know.” He said simply. “I get it. I’m sorry I was short with you. Just...nerves.”

Her eyes shut as she clung to herself. “God, I am just so...scared. What if he comes here? What if he finds out about this place? About Millie?”

“Then I’ll deal with him.” There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice. The things he’d done in his life, the men he’d killed...Wyatt Marston was small potatoes.

“Simon…”she said as if he were being obtuse. “He’s a killer. You were lucky you got out alive last night. Now he knows who you are and what you can do. And he won’t come alone.”

Oh, the irony, Simon thought. He stepped up to her and put a hand on the worried mother’s shoulder. He leveled those blue eyes on her’s. “Kate. I will not let that son of a bitch do anything to you or Millie. I swear.”

Her face wrenched up as the tears came and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging to him tightly. Hesitantly, his arms went around her, comforting her as best he could.