"She who Laughs. Now that is something worthy a nickname, but it won't be of me your laughter is caused by, She who Laughs." Julian felt himself tensing less up around the Indian, as they made their way to what Wasula had called her and her brother's 'camp'. It was something in her lighter tone and the smile she gave him that seemed to melt the winter snow around Julian's impression of the Native girl leading him out to God knew where. He'd be damned, she had a sense of humour, not something the Indians were famed for around the White Man.
Julian's boots made little impression on the dry dirt they walked across, but the heavier thuds of his heels distinquished him from the quiet grace of Wasula's light feet. So perhaps it was true, the Indians were so One-with-nature that they even left no prints? Whatever he had believed before, Wasula was giving him doubts that he could have done this without her. And thankfully she was far from a sore thing for the eye to behold, so at least the American cowboy wouldn't have to worry about that out there.
The young man gave Wasula an amused look, once again smiling at her questioning why to partake in a bet she was sure to lose. "For the fun of it? The thrill of the slighest chance to succeed? But I can't force you into it, even if the bet still stand upon until the rain starts pouring down on us." Julian continued his pace beside Wasula, raising his brows for the latter thing she said. Change his colour and expressions? Was his face that interesting to the Indian?
The alieness of the Indian never ceased to surprise Julian, who simply looked bewildered at the lone tree Wasula decided to climb up for no apparent reason. "...Ehm...What are you...?" Julian's words were cut off when Wasula gracefully climbed back down from the tree, now with what he could only assume were her sparse posessions. The wind blew her dark hair against her cheek, only making the young cowboy struggle to find the words for that small moment of him simply taking in what was actually happening; who was standing before him, and her look.
"My hut...yeah, my hut. It's this way, come on." Julian finally managed to regain what little control he actually needed to function like a normal human being, pointing away from the tree she had just climbed up and down from and somewhere just outside of town. It wasn't too far a walk, perhaps quarter of an hour. They could easily see it before they reached it. The Kirkland Ranch.
What was visible first, was the large barn dominating the ranch and serving as its middle point. Beiside it was a dozen of cattle, all fenced in with thick, wooden fences in a large square, enough for a few dozen cattle more. Between the barn and the other buildings ran a larger crowd of chickens, chased by the children of one of the farmhands for their own amusement. A few smaller houses dotted the surroundings, storage and homes of those working at the ranch.
Julian wasn't heading to any of those buildings, but the two-storied home situated facing the town. A rocking-chair rocked back and forth at the porch by an older lady, who didn't seem to be concerned about Julian's approach at first. But when she, and the other folk noticed the Indian, she slowly got up from the chair and shouted. -"Will! Come out, now!"
"Don't worry, my father won't hurt you. Just let me talk him down, okay?" Julian tried to say calmly to Wasula, though his concern wasn't that easy to hide. Especially when the older man, sporting a large moustache and a rifle exited the front door to witness Julian with the Indian. Julian's father was not amused. -"What in the name of God Almighty is She doing here, Julian Kirkland? Is she the one who stole our horses? For if she is, I swear to God that I will shoot her and her damn savage fo..."
"No father, no! She didn't take them, but she will help me find them and bring the horses back."
-"...you got to be kidding me...damnit young man"
-"William, watch your mouth!" Julian's mother wasn't fond of Indians, but she was even less eager to let her husband return to his old habit of swearing at strangers. Shooting them too for that matter.
-"Julian, are you serious about this?"
"I won't be gone for too long, only a week at most. I'm sure that they took our horses, and..."
-"And what, young man? You're going to do what your brother couldn't? This is a job for the Sheriff, not you, Julian."
"No father. The Sheriff won't fix this, he never does. Just let me get my things and I'll be back within a week at most."
-"...If you don't come back within a reasonable amount of time, I'm putting HER personally responsible, and They'll have to pay."
Julian only nodded to his father after this short and awkward exchange, the very conversation he had hoped to avoid but knew he probably couldn't escape. He walked quickly past his father, slow past his mother giving him a grieving look, before soon coming back out of the house now carrying a satchel and a rifle across his shoulder. His mother gave him a brief hug and kissed him on his cheek, while his father only sighed angrily at his only remaining son who was repeating his brother's mistake. But he couldn't stop him. It ran in the Kirkland blood.
"I'm ready, let's go." Julian's words were flat and direct, clearly lacking the surprised tone or positive bantering earlier displayed as he now simply gave Wasula a quick look and walking off. Yes, they were walking for now, seen as their horses too had been stolen. That was why the fenced area was so empty.
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