snowy_river_man | (no subject)

(no subject)

Spur's place is a second home to Jim in many ways. It's as entangled with his history as his own homestead, and with his father dead, there is no one Jim trusts more.

Even now, knowing he's a Harrison.

Riding up the hill along the rail fence, Jim smiles as he catches sight of the ramshackle house, built between thin trees with nothing at its back but blue sky. Jessica's arms are looped loosely around his waist as they have been for hours, and Kate is close behind on her Beaut. The sun is shining, the air crisp. He finds he's looking forward to seeing Spur's face when he realizes Jessica has come for a visit.

"Spur!"

He slows his horse.

"Spur!" A brief Pause. "Spur!"

Still no answer.

"Damn," Jim mutters, coming to a stop.

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The inside of the cabin is dark and dusty, like no one has been here for years. The air smells sharp and strange, but not unpleasant; a little like the barn after the hands had changed all the bedding and freshened the hay.

Jessica pushes the door all the way open and peers around, blinking until her eyes adjust to the haze.

Being a Harrison, she doesn't think anything of snooping around. Who is this Spur person? Why does Jim think she should recognize the name?

She bends down to look at... something on a bench. Some bit of rusted iron. Sniffing, she straightens once more and tugs her dress down, turning away to look at the tin cups stacked haphazardly on a shelf.

Jim doesn't hesitate at the open door, either. This is practically his second home.

"He's not down there," he announces. He hits the side of his leg with his hat, heaves a sigh of frustration, and sinks down on the bench while Jess continues to look around.

Jim's words have little impact on Jessica. She looks at him and away again, still exploring this strange, sad little place.

Aunt Rosemary would be appalled at the lack of housekeeping, and her father would have several things to say about the lives of mountain men, of that she has little doubt.

But her father isn't here. Nor is this 'Spur.'

Just Jim.

And Kate.

She keeps searching so as to avoid Jim's eyes a little longer.

More shelves, more dusty items of either personal relevance or functional use. Nothing decorative at all. Nothing except... a portrait?

She scoops up the frame, opened like a book, and stares at the woman's picture inside.

It's as if she is looking in a mirror.

Jessica's breath catches.

Meanwhile, Kate sees to the horses. It's something she's good at, and one of the only things she can do for Jim right now. It's been a strange morning.

She follows his direction to get them squared away, making sure there's good water in the trough. Occasionally she glances at the cabin Jim moved off towards, where Jessica no doubt already is. She'll join them momentarily.

Behind Kate, a wizened, rumpled old man with dust caking his beard comes hobbling up the path on one good leg and one made of wood.

He's beaming, his yellowed teeth still bright enough to shine through the dirt.

"Hello there!" he calls out. "Do I know you?"

He wouldn't mind making her acquaintance again or for the very first time. He wouldn't mind much of anything, today.

She startles at the voice.

Turning quickly over her shoulder, hand brushing her hip, she takes in the old man. He certainly looks like a weathered prospector; he could even get away with the kind of hard-living oilmen she sometimes comes across in Texas. One thing's for certain, though.

"No, but I know you."

There's a distinct twang in her soft voice, though it risks getting muted by the brilliant smile she flashes at him next.

"Spur, I hope? I'm one'a Jim's friends."

"I'm happy to be known!" Spur exclaims, taking quick if uneven steps to reach Kate, arms going wide in a welcoming gesture. He studies her face for a moment before his gaze finds Jim's horse. Recognition lights his eyes. "You're prettier than the company Jim usually keeps."

A grin. The joke, of course, being that Jim doesn't spend much time with anyone at all. Last he'd heard, Jim was off to round up Harrison's strays. If Spur is curious, he hides it well. A lifetime of solitude means he'll take news as it comes and savor the change; he's never been the pushy one.

"And a Yank. Texan?"

His accent has mellowed in all the years spent digging in these mountains, but it's far closer to Kate's own than Jim's.

"Thank you."

A little color dusts her cheeks at the joke, regardless of his intent. He has a presence Jim didn't do justice describing, and not for lack of trying. Kate feels instantly comfortable.

"You've got a good ear. Then again, I s'pose I stick out like a sore thumb 'round here. Yes, are y'from America?"

Spur chuckles.

"I'd be the sore thumb on the other hand. Do you have a name, Jim's friend, or don't they believe in them in Texas anymore?" he teases.

"Oh!"

She flushes.

"I'm terribly sorry, where are my manners? Yes, I'm Kate Barlow."

She steps forward immediately, holding out her hand.

His hands are filthy. He tries wiping them on his thighs, to no avail. Grinning, he offers a shrug of apology before giving her hand a firm shake anyway.

"A pleasure, Miss Barlow. I'm Spur."

Beat.

"You can call me Spur."

Harrison is right out, after all.

"Jim's inside? Well come on! Might as well tell ya both at once." He makes a gesture at the cabin as he calls out, "Jim! Jim, my boy!"

Kate's never minded a little dirt. Her grip is sure and calloused, and she returns the shake warmly.

"Spur it is, then."

She laughs brightly, and checks the horse's leads one last time before following in his wake. It doesn't even occur to her to mention Miss Harrison being here with them until they're almost to the door.

"Oh, there's one other thing—"

"There always is!" Spur laughs over his shoulder, not slowing down. He can't wait to tell Henry's son what he'd found.

Finally.

After all these years.

"Jim! Jim Craig!" He rushes into the cabin, grabbing on to Jim as he stands from his chair, dancing him around in an awkward circle. "They said old Spur was mad! Mad! Woo hooooo!"

He holds a small, dirty bag high, grinning.

The relieved look Jim gives Jessica turns into worry as Spur latches on to him. He's turned around twice before he manages to get out, "Are you all right?"

Jessica pulls her eyes away from the picture, heart thumping, and looks over at the commotion.

She sees a hairy, dirty man, a bit unsteady on his feet, laughing and dancing like a mad person.

He must be drunk, she decides.

When she gets a better look at his eyes, however, Jess would swear her heart stops beating all together.

"I've never felt better in my life! Hey!" Spur throws his other arm overhead as well, jubilant.

Until he feels someone's eyes on him and turns toward Jessica.

His smile vanishes, leaving a familiar frown in place, and he runs his eyes over the woman he sees as if he has been starving for the sight of her.

"Matilda," he manages, heartbreak and sadness mixed with relief. "I found the gold."

A promise fulfilled.

Kate's hardly inside the door before Spur's got Jim in a bear hug, the two men twirling and dancing in glee. She laughs, taking a step back so as not to catch a boot to a shin.

It's Jessica's pallor she notices first, and within seconds everything's gone quiet.

Kate stands there in the doorway, eyes shifting between the three before they land on Jim, silent and questioning.

Jessica's gaze flicks to Jim at the same moment, but it doesn't remain there. She looks this man, this 'Spur,' in the eyes and says, "I'm Jessica."

Her chin lifts.

"Jessica Harrison."

Spur holds his breath, looking down for an instant; he doesn't want to admit the truth in her declaration.

For just a few seconds, he can pretend.

"Oooh. Jessica." It's resigned, his breath hitching at he says her name. He covers it up as well as he can, voice stronger when he says, "You'e grown up!"

This is all very strange. Jim still can't quite believe Jessica hadn't been pulling his leg when she said she didn't know Spur, but the proof before him is hard to deny.

He feels first Kate look at him, then Jess, and swallows his own questions, motioning for Kate to come forward so she's not obscured by the bright light coming through the door.

Besides, he likes having her close.

"Jess. This is Spur," he explains, keeping his voice level with some effort, indicating the other man with a nod of his head. "And, uh. He's your uncle. Your father's brother."

Surely she can see the truth of it in his eyes.

"One of life's injustices," Spur says with a smirk, "you never get to choose your own relatives."

Jessica's mouth works before she can get her response out. "Uncle?"

"Let this be a lesson to you, Jim."

Spur holds up the dirty bag.

"I find a little bit of gold and suddenly, after all these years, the relatives turn up!"

He grins at Kate.

"Pretty womenfolk, too!"

She tips her chin against her chest, a demure little nod of concession at Jim's request. She moves into the room, feeling like a warm knife as it cuts through butter. By the time she stops at Jim's side, Spur's switched from heartache to jesting again.

"Perhaps your luck jus' wasn't finished in the mines. Don't worry, I don't think Jim'd ever forgive me if I took your gold."

She smirks at Jim, and again at Spur.

"Congratulations."

He might as well enjoy some accolades before the inevitable happens. Jessica looks fit to burst.

"Thank you kindly," Spur replies. "Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe the long lost relative and the pretty lady are my good luck charms!"

He's curious -- beyond curious -- about Kate, but right now he only has eyes for Jessica.