I'm singin' dream [Rio]

[Lewt McConnell]

The desert was beginning to cool off as autumn begun. Hell, it was still damn hot. The sun scorched the earth and scorned the very existence of rainfall. Del Fuego’s main street was parched until the point the earth cracked. The people, well, the people never stopped complaining about the heat. He paid the people no heed. Lewton was content, as always. In comparison from the harsh winters of Kansas territory he was damned pleased with the warmth. No more working out in those familiar blizzards on that backbreaking farm. No, his childhood was long unseen these days. He was more prosperous than he had ever been. Even if he made his money immorally, he was still well off. Gambling, stealing, and bartering with locals for money. Many looked down on him and the others for such roguish attitude. He ate the finest food, drank the finest bourbon, and had the finest materials. He had a woman that men dreamed to be with. Beautiful, intellectual, and had a hellish wrath. Men turned there heads when they saw such a phenomenally beautiful woman. Even if she was dressed as roughish as a man, she turned heads left and right. Yet no man thought as highly as Lewton McConnell did.

The time was nearing that he had begun a formation of plans for upcoming robbery. Lewton settled his mind on out of territory. Typically, it was the safest bet. New Mexico’s railway system was flourishing with wealth. Or so had Lewton heard from a string of sources. He sat out in front of the Blackbird Saloon’s boardwalk in a rickety wooden chair, staring relentlessly out into the street. He tilted his head slightly as he settled on uncertain thoughts for the upcoming robbery. His old banjo was propped up against the wall of the Saloon, holding a large mug of ale. Sipping it leisurely he leaned back, relaxing.

The time had come he was waiting for Rio. Wherever she had went off to, he was expecting her arrival any minute. He was sure she was uncertain (without telling him so) leaving him at the Saloon alone. Hell, though the women shot him interested stares they didn’t dare to loiter about him. Every time that red headed woman had seen him (the many times he and the Les Coureur Enfers ventured to celebrate for no particular reason) she grew ghastly pale and avoided him at all cost. Rio had a fantastic hook, he was impressed.

His arm had healed just enough he could start using it once again. As his thoughts begun to wander and worry washed over him, his eyes narrowed to his trusty banjo. Setting his large mug of ale on a nearby table, he eagerly picked up his banjo. Plucking softly at the coil strings. He played a delicate hymn that quickly changed into a boisterous one. He worked his fingers quickly up and down the neck of the banjo, each tune ringing in the streets of Del Fuego.

[Rio Daniels]

She was exhausted. So used to spending her nights snuggled up to Lewt was she that now that she had distanced herself for the past week, she couldn't sleep. She couldn't fall asleep without Lewt. It was embarrassing really and she would not allow her secret to get out to anyone, especially the men of the gang. She would be the laughing stock and she already had enough of a reputation for her liking. Sighing softly now, the young woman tried to sort through her thoughts. She had told Lewt that she wasn't staying with him simply because she wanted his shoulder to heal.

If he saw threw that excuse then he wasn't letting her know. She thanked him silently for that. She couldn't forgive herself for shooting him without a reason. She had jumped to conclusions like always and it just didn't sit right with her. The members of the gang noticed the change in her. She was quiet, more subdued. She didn't get into arguments with the men like she normally did, and it was obvious that something was off with her. Of course they figured it had to do with Lewt's shooting, but none of them wanted to ask out of respect for their leader and out of respect for his girl. It was just a horrible situation.

And now she was supposed to meet him in town. They were supposed to spend the day together. Doing what, she wasn't sure, but she was nervous. Her feelings for Lewt had not changed, they hadn't lessened. She was petrified that his had changed though and she wouldn't blame him for that. Trying not to appeared too bothered by it all, Rio just rode into town like she was supposed to and put West up for the day at the livery. Making sure he was settled, she headed to the Saloon, knowing that was where she was supposed to meet him. While she didn't like that place at all because of the happenings there, she was doing her best to trust Lewt. He had promised and his promises meant the world to her. She needed to be more trusting.

As she walked along, the sound of a banjo could be recognized through the street of the small town. Lewt played the banjo, she had heard him at home. A small smile played at the edges of her lips, and she stepped up to the front porch of the Saloon, her blue eyes lighting up at the very sight of him. Not giving him a chance to say anything, she stepped up the stairs and slowly, gently took his banjo from his hands. Propping it carefully up against the porch railings, she made certain that it was secure and then turned to him. Initiating the first affectionate contact with him since she had shot him, she dropped lightly into his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes tiredly. "Hi baby." She whispered softly, which was also unlike her.

Leaning up, she gently kissed his jaw line and then settled back against him. She had missed him, but she had been too afraid to really touch him out of worry of hurting him even more. But now that she was with him, like this, everything felt right again. "What are ya thinkin' of doin' today?"