#farley coming in with the lead pipe too

[skyerana]

Bert. Bert no. He's your friend Bert.

[aurelacs]

Ten of Wands

An Ezra/F!OC Red Dead Redemption AU

WORD COUNT: 3k

CONTENT: mentions of spousal abuse, drinking, 

A/N: Thanks y’all for your patience! There’s only a chapter and an epilogue after this one! Hope you enjoy! Also next chapter will have smut I promise.

This is set in the Red Dead Redemption universe, however there’s no spoilers for either game, and you don’t need to have prior knowledge of the games to understand the fic. I’m just using RDR for the setting and the time period (1899). Hope you enjoy!

chapter list | masterlist | read on AO3

IV. The Hanged Man

West Elizabeth was far more frightening at night. 

The way the moonlight bore through the trees cast long, ominous shadows along the worn path the two bounty hunters chose to take. Annie was tempted to talk, to ask the man where he was taking her, but she didn’t want to push her luck. The dignity he provided her by letting her ride with him was more than likely the only kindness he would afford. So she rode in silence. The sound of the horses hooves beating against the soil the only sound that late at night. It crushed her spine with the weight of the implication and dried up her throat. This was her death march, paraded through the state so far into the evening there would be no one to mourn her, to ask for her final statement, or write down her last words. The bounty hunters, referring to each other only as ‘Morgan’ and ‘Smith,’ talked idly, like she wasn’t there. 

About halfway through the ride, Annie began to recognize her surroundings a little more. Panic began to set in. Even as she was being tied up, the concept of imprisonment and death was so foreign it did little to scare her. To be so close, to have the knowledge that it was, in fact, guaranteed, made her bottom lip tremble. In that moment Annie realized that she didn’t want to die. It wasn’t because of Ezra. Without him, she could live, and she knew that, but she wanted to feel his lips on hers. She wanted to make it to the end of her life fully experiencing what it was like to not have to look over her shoulder. It had been so long that she forgot the feeling. She wanted to reach Armadillo and feel the sand crunch under her boots. She needed to breathe long enough to forget her husband’s face, to make it to the point in her life where she could call him her late husband.

Her heart sank, low, further than the pit of her stomach, as they rode under the ‘Strawberry’ sign. She thought the river that ran through the town looked better in the moonlight. The sheriff’s office was located next to the hill that housed the hotel. The dark wood of the building blended in with the hill and made it look like the office and jail was built into the soil. It gave the building a foreboding presence, as though the hill and the office and the hotel were a solitary castle looming over her. 

The porch light next to the door was the only light on across the whole town as the two men hitched their horses. Morgan grumbled a faint apology as he hoisted Annie over his shoulder to help her down off his horse. The three of them all stood by the door. Morgan knocked, hammering on the door until the sheriff hollered at them for waking him up. The transaction was nearly wordless. Morgan handed the sheriff Annie’s bounty poster, who then directed Morgan to lead Annie to the cell across from his desk before handing the men their bounty payment. 

“D’you know anything about a bounty for the man she was with? Blonde patch of hair, looks like an outlaw,” Morgan asked.

“Nothing here, but you can always try Valentine. If you’re heading that way, can you let Sheriff Molloy know I got her here?”

Morgan grunted in response and left. 

“Valentine is full up, so you’re gonna be with us for the time being. Sheriff up there’s supposed to come talk to you at some point, but he likes to take his time and who knows if those boys will actually let Curtis know you’re here.”

“What good will talking to me do?”

The sheriff shrugged before lumbering back to his cot and falling asleep. 

Days and nights passed in near silence. Sheriff Farley, as Annie came to observe, wasn’t much of a talker. He snored, loud enough to occasionally shake the floorboards of the office. She learned that Strawberry’s jail had five cells, one upstairs where she was, and four more downstairs, out of sight. Annie overheard Farley one night, as he conversed with the mayor, mention that the downstairs cells were for the more ‘worrisome’ offenders. The statement gave her a spark of hope. She knew it wasn’t often that bounties were put out on women. Maybe he could read between the lines of a woman killing her husband. Or perhaps he merely saw her as less of a threat because she was a woman. Either way, Annie still felt mildly appreciative. If she craned her head hard enough, she could look outside and see wagons passing through the town. The same position gave her the opportunity to feel the sun on her face right before dusk. Her situation was already hard enough, she was grateful to not have to experience it with the ones she heard screaming below her. 

A week into her stay, or what she believed to be a week, Annie gave up all hope in Ezra coming for her. It was a child’s fantasy, to think that he would risk his life and freedom just to save her. She couldn’t find it in herself to blame him, either, even though when she asked herself if she would have come to save him, her answer was a resounding ‘yes.’ What a fool she was to have waited. If she told him, then and there, as he waded out of the lake, how she felt about him, he might’ve been here. Or he would’ve left her. Either way her chest would have been stinging a little less. 

More time passed with no word from Farley on the whereabouts of Valentine’s sheriff, or her life. As a nervous habit, Annie would undo and redo her braids constantly until her fingers ached. She paced around her cell. There was no clock in the office, so she measured the time by the sheriff’s actions. Everyday he followed the same routine: breakfast at the butcher’s stall, sit in his office and read the newspaper, smoke his pipe, taunt the downstairs prisoners, if the sun had yet to go down when he was finished, he would invite the mayor for a drink, where the mayor would talk about his grandiose plans for the sleepy, yet beautiful, town. His talk reminded her of Ezra: weaving tales of splendor, swearing up and down that Strawberry’s beauty could not be contained. The mayor echoed Ezra’s sentiments, convinced that the work he was putting into it would make a difference. Annie was sure that Farley was going to kill Mayor Timmins because he no longer wanted bounties to be advertised in Strawberry. It figured that she would be the last, she thought.  

One morning, maybe three weeks since the bounty hunters had found her, sheriff Farley woke her by knocking on the bars of her cell. A man stood next to him, a handlebar mustache doing nothing to contain the permanent scowl on his face. Farley introduced him as sheriff Molloy, the one from Valentine and Annie’s blood ran cold. The one who would decide her fate stood there, looking unimpressed at the supposed cold-blooded killer before him, half-asleep and half paralyzed from fear. 

“I hope you didn’t pay those boys the full bounty for this,” he gestured over at her, looking sullen and beaten.  

“They didn’t seem to be the most innocent of sorts either. Didn’t wanna cause a fuss.”

Molloy laughed. Farley grabbed his pipe from his desk and made his way outside to give the two some privacy. He stood there silently with his arms crossed for what felt like an hour before speaking. 

“Why’d you do it?”

“That’s it?” He nodded. Annie was confused. Weeks of waiting and that’s all he asks? No hint of a greeting, an apology. She was hoping that maybe the sheriff would tell her how her husband’s family was doing. They would probably be in the front row the day she hangs, but in an odd way her life had felt so sheltered in the months since she killed him that hearing something was preferred to this. To the brusque ire of a man that she knew had already decided that she was going to die for what she did. 

“He hurt me,” she answered.

Molloy scoffed. “I was hoping for a more interesting answer. Not many lady killers ‘round these parts, but they all have the same reasoning.” “Maybe because they’re all telling the truth.”

“Maybe they’re all lying to try and gain some sympathy before they get hanged,” he said as he leaned in closer to the bars. The scowl on his face grew deeper. She started to wonder how many other women in her situation had the misfortune of seeing his face right before a hood was placed over their heads. 

“My husband beat me. He would scream at me if there was a speck of dust on the floor when he came home from hunting. Chased me around the house with a knife if he didn’t like the way I sneezed or walked or spoke, when I did. I let him hurt me for over ten years. I had it.” Annie didn’t realize she had started crying until her voice broke. “It’s been months and I still call him my husband. I still love him, but I’d do it again. If you’re gonna hang me for that, then so be it.” 

“I’m going to hang you for killing your husband, Mrs. Gray. I don’t care whether or not you regret it.” 

Hearing her name felt like a whip cracking. She had gone so long without the sound of it that it was foreign in her ears, like the sheriff was addressing a stranger. For so long she referred to herself internally as Annie Cobb that it didn’t register. It was her trying to move on, trying to turn back into the woman she was before she married her husband, but it didn’t have the same spark. Her identity had always been ‘Mrs. Gray,’ her maiden name taken from her too soon, before she could form herself outside of her husband. But Cobb never resonated. Maybe in her next life she’ll have a name that fits her better, like Michaels, or Robinson. Or Bird. 

The dread that churned in her stomach kept her from sleeping more than an hour at a time. It would jolt her awake with the sudden urge to run, and her heart wouldn’t stop racing until her brain finally managed to process that there was nowhere to run. At the third bout, Annie awoke to find Farley fast asleep, his snores once again bouncing off the wooden walls. Night had fallen, deep and heavily, on the town. It mirrored the night she was first brought back to Strawberry; the lantern once again the only thing illuminating the entire town. It was never intentional. Every morning he forgot, Malloy would grumble on for the rest of the day about the waste of oil. This night, this mistake, however, cost him more than a nickel’s worth of lantern oil. 

Someone entered, not with a knock, but with a bang, stirring the sheriff from his slumber so harshly he wasn’t able to collect his bearings in time to demand an explanation. The glow of the lantern backlit the visitor and made it impossible for Annie to make him out until he spoke, and even then it was only a hunch. Sheriff Farley stumbled over towards the voice, eyes still crusted with sleep and legs uneasy. He managed his way over to his desk, propping himself up with an arm before asking who had the nerve to bother him so late at night. The man closed the door gently, opposite to his grand entrance. Out of the porch lantern light, the office was enshrouded in darkness until the sheriff lit another lantern at the corner of his desk. It wasn’t until the light illuminated the rest of the office that Annie realized. 

“I do apologize for intruding so late into the evening, but I saw the lantern still on, and where I come from that means a gentleman is open for business.” 

Ezra looked different from when she last saw him. He looked a little more ragged and worn down. The bags under his eyes had grown darker. His hair was unkempt and she didn’t see his hat anywhere on him. The blonde patch of hair caught the light just right. Ezra made no attempt to speak to Annie; he didn’t even look her way as he adjusted the heavy-looking satchel that hung upon his shoulder. His kept his deep, brown eyes focused entirely on the sheriff. 

“I recently purchased myself a new abode in this beautiful little town here and my father always told me to start a new journey with alcohol. And who better among the locale to embark on that sojourn with than the sheriff himself?” Ezra reached into the satchel and forcefully placed two bottles of Kentucky bourbon on the sheriff’s desk. He pulled up a chair, not waiting for permission or refusal and sat down, eagerly awaiting his next move. Sheriff Farley eyed Ezra curiously. Nevertheless, he walked over to the cabinet by his cot and dug out two glasses. He smiled up at the sheriff. Not once did the two men take their eyes off one another. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“When I said ‘recently,’ it was not an exaggeration.” He leaned back in the chair. Ezra’s body language gave off a kind of confidence she had only seen from him once before: in Blackwater, towering over his debtor. Annie grew worried that he might try the same stunt again. 

“I have always heard the people of Strawberry are of a hospitable color. At least, that is what they say in Saint Denis. It is possible that they simply meant poor,” the sheriff shot him an angered glance, “but hospitality is taught, never bought, wouldn’t you agree, sheriff?” Farley grunted in response. Ezra poured the bourbon halfway into both glasses before drinking his in one go, and encouraging the sheriff to do the same. Sheriff Farley’s eyes shot up to the blonde in Ezra’s hair. The coolness of Ezra’s composure broke for a second, not enough for the sheriff to notice, but enough for Annie to start worrying. She recalled the question the one bounty hunter had asked him when she first arrived and wondered if he made the same connection. 

“Sheriff, please, I insist, drink! There is more than enough for the both of us and I want to make sure your graciousness is equally matched.”

“Is there no way to do this tomorrow,” Farley asked, choosing to match Ezra’s drink. 

“Not according to my father’s superstitions, no,” Ezra chuckled. “It has to be as soon as you sign the deed, and the gentleman I was dealing with for this parcel was quite a character. He absolutely insisted we negotiate until the very last second of the day” He took another swig of the bourbon, this time directly from the bottle. 

“Was it Mr. Rose by chance?”

“The one and the same!” 

Ezra opened the second bottle of bourbon and passed it to the sheriff as he began to tell Ezra stories about the man. Farley eagerly grabbed the bottle by the neck. Engrossed in his tales, he continued to absentmindedly sip on the alcohol, his slowly inebriated mind searching for threads to connect his thoughts. On occasion, Ezra would take a swig from his bottle to encourage him. It was a lengthy plan, but one that seemed to be working. Every time the sheriff tried to stop, Ezra would bring up something else to try and get him talking again. 

‘I have heard that your mayor is a curious one.” 

“He’s trying to run me out of a job, is what he’s tryin’ to do!” He slammed the bottle onto his desk, and Ezra laughed as some of the liquid came sloshing out of the neck and on the sheriff’s hand. Annie’s worry grew again as she peered over to the window and saw daybreak trying to make its way over the horizon. 

“I’m sure the mayor is only doing what he deems best.”

“The mayor is- he’s- the sonuvabitch-” the floorboards shook as the sheriff’s head slammed against his desk, just nearly missing the bottle. Annie wasn’t sure if he was dead or merely sleeping.  

The first time Ezra acknowledged her was as the first snore ripped through Farley’s body. He looked over at her and held a finger up to his lips. As quietly as he could, he toed over to the sheriff’s slumped over body. He gently fiddled with the key ring that hung from his gun belt. Annie could see his hands shaking as he tried every key on Annie’s cell before finally reaching the correct one. She hadn’t realized how long she had been holding her breath until the cell door finally popped open, and the only thing standing between her and Ezra was a couple feet of empty, unfettered air.  

“Missed you, little bird,” he smiled, breaking the heavy silence. 

Tears fell freely from Annie’s eyes, the mix of emotions overwhelming her senses almost to the point of collapse, and she nearly jumped from where she was sat and into Ezra’s arms. Free not only was she of Strawberry jail, but also of any hesitation she might’ve been holding onto with regard to how she felt about him. She buried her face in his neck and took in his scent, something she didn’t realize she missed. His arms gripped onto her something fierce like she would float away and out of his grasp if he didn’t hold on. It was as though the time apart wore away any inhibitions they might have had. The sheer elation of their reunion being the only thing that was on their minds. Ezra came back for her. 

That’s what mattered. 

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[skyerana]

Bert. Bert no. He's your friend Bert.