Dontbother46

જ⁀➴.°˖⋆ ℧ 𓃗 .°˖⋆જ⁀➴

The days came and went.

Every morning the same.

(Y/N) would rise before the beaming sun of Arizona territory chose her as a victim. The wind of the dusty frontier still managed to dirty her, even after bathing herself in the basin she had prepared the night before. 

The wind tugged on her skirt as she balanced the basket of chicken feed on her hip, starting her morning chores as she had always done.

The saloon had seen an influx of travelers since the war was over and Baylor had been hoisted from the west like a rabid dog. Soldiers returning home, cowboys looking for work, and families seeking new starts all passed through the saloon’s doors. Business was good, better than it had been in a long time which meant that the work never stopped for the (L/N) family. 

(Y/N) could hear the laughs and the clashing of tins from outside as she walked across the porch and descended the wooden stairs to the coop. 

Pa was attending to the bar and kitchen which meant outdoor chores were left to (Y/N).

The sun glared in her face as she looked up into the sky, immediately loosing her line of sight as she needed a few moments to adjust. Moments that costed her her footing as the world around her began to tilt. 

Strong arms caught her, wrapping around her waist and pulling her against a solid, hard chest. The scent of worn leather, gun oil, and something faintly sweet like apple pie hit  her all at once.

“Whoa there, miss! Easy now,” a bright, confident voice laughed right above her ear. “Can’t have the prettiest girl in the west breakin’ her neck on my watch!”

(Y/N) could feel her heart beating against her chest and her face turn a deep crimson as she became limp in his arms. She slowly looked up to meet blue eyes that sparkled with mischief under the brim of a well-worn Stetson hat that could barely hide a blond cowlick that managed to escape its cover.

“I… I… thank you, sir,” (Y/N) stuttered as her legs felt like churned butter. Grain crunched under her boots where the basket had spilled.  “I didn’t… the step…”

“Hey, no need to thank me! Catching beautiful damsels in distress is basically my national specialty.” He said with a grin. “Name’s Alfred Jones.”

Her cheeks burned brighter than the western sun. 

“I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). Thank you again, Mr. Jones. I’m not usually this clumsy.”

He chuckled while he slowly but almost reluctantly, loosened his hold but kept one hand lightly on her back as she stepped back to compose herself. 

“(Y/N), huh? Pretty name for the prettiest girl this side of the Mississippi.” Alfred flashed a dazzling grin, tipping his Stetson back with two fingers so she could see his eyes better. “And hey, no ‘Mister’ stuff. Just Alfred. Besides, after four years of war, a little clumsiness on some rickety stairs is nothin’.” He winked, then crouched down without missing a beat to help scoop the scattered feed back into the basket.

“You fought in the war?”  She asked kneeling next to him.

Alfred’s grin faltered for just a second,  before it returned. “Sure did. Fought like hell to keep the Union together. Now I’m out here helpin’ put things back together, one town at a time. Heard this saloon serves the best whisky west of Albuquerque  so here I am.” He stood, offering her his hand. She took it and allowed him pull her up easily. “And lucky me, I got to play hero on day one.”

“Well… thank you, Alfred. The stairs have been warped since the last big storm. Pa keeps meaning to fix them.”

“Say no more!” He grabbed the refilled basket in one hand and offered (Y/N) his arm with the other. “Lead the way to the coop, miss (Y/N). I’ll walk you to make sure you don’t fall again.”

He winked, a playful gesture that seemed to radiate off him like the desert sun itself. 

(Y/N) slipped her arm through his, the warmth of his skin seeping through his up sleeve. She didn’t know what else to do. There weren’t many young men in the town besides travelers and outlaws who needed a place to hide. She wondered if he was one of the men her father had warned her about. A man that would use her then leave her dry.  The type of man that had became indigenous to the west.

“Jones! You lazy son of a gun, get back in here! We’re settin’ up a game of cards and I need my lucky charm! Don’t tell me you’re already sweet-talkin’ the locals!” A loud voice called from inside the saloon.

Alfred groaned and then glanced over his shoulder.  One of his older soldier buddies, a greying man with a thick mustache and a faded Union jacket draped over his chair, 

leaned out the window, grinning like an idiot.

“Hold your horses, Brandt! I’m bein’ a gentleman!” Alfred shouted back, laughing. He turned to (Y/N), regret flickering in those bright blue eyes. “Duty calls, I guess. They don’t let a fella rest easy. But I’ll catch up with you later, yeah? When can I see you again? How about tomorrow before sunrise?”

Before she could respond, he gently squeezed her hand, flashed one last dazzling grin, and jogged back toward the saloon, calling out a playful insult to Murphy as he went. (Y/N) stood there for a moment, basket in hand, cheeks still burning as she watched him disappear inside.

The day seemed shorter than usual. 

It seemed to slip past her fingertips as every chore was finished with her thoughts wandering back to the morning again and again. (Y/N) touched her lips as she thought about his grin and the way he smiled at her.

The evening came, and when dinner at the saloon was over , (Y/N) sat at the family table in the back kitchen. The oil lamp cast a soft glow over the simple meal of beans, cornbread, and leftover roast. But her fork barely moved. Her pa had noticed and cleared his throat. “That Yankee boy’s been askin’ about you, y’know.”

(Y/N) startled, nearly dropping her fork. “Pa!”

 “Alfred Jones, right? Tall fella with the loud mouth. Helped Brandt and the others with some stories earlier, then cornered me at the bar askin’ all sorts of questions. ‘What’s (Y/N)’s favorite time of day?’ ‘Does she like apple pie?’ Real subtle, that one.”

(Y/N)’s face flushed crimson all over again. She stared down at her plate, pushing a bean around with her fork. “He… he just caught me when I nearly fell this mornin’. That’s all.”

Her pa raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Mm-hmm. And now he’s askin’ after my daughter like she hung the moon. Just mind yourself, darlin’. World’s still raw after the war.”

(Y/N) didn’t trust herself to speak. She simply nodded.

He leaned back in his chair, studying her with that familiar mix of protectiveness and weariness that came from years of running the saloon alone after her ma passed.

“Just… don’t go fallin’ in love with the patrons, darlin’,” he said as his voice deepened, though his eyes were kind. “They roll through here lookin’ for one thing: whether it’s a hot meal, a soft bed, or a pretty smile to make ‘em forget the war for a night. Most of ‘em are gone by sunrise. Yankee or not, that Jones boy is still just passin’ through. Mind your heart.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard, the dreamy haze around Alfred’s smile dimming just a little under her father’s words. She knew he was right. The saloon had seen its share of broken promises and lonely mornings after charming strangers moved on. Still, the memory of Alfred’s strong arms catching her, his easy laugh, and the way he’d looked at her like she was more than just the saloon-keeper’s daughter made it hard to heed the warning.

“I know, Pa,” she murmured softly, finally meeting his gaze. “I’m not… It’s nothing.”

Her father grunted, unconvinced, but let the subject drop as they finished clearing the table in comfortable silence.

At night, (Y/N) lay in her narrow bed upstairs, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling while the sounds of the saloon slowly quieted. She thought of her pa’s words and the truth that had stung to them. 

“Don’t go fallin’ in love with the patrons… they want one thing… most of ‘em are gone by sunrise.”

She turned onto her side, pulling the thin quilt tighter around her shoulders. Alfred’s bright laugh, the warmth of his hand on her back, the way he’d looked at her like she mattered—it all felt too good to be real. He was a soldier, charming and larger than life, and he would be gone once the territory was secured. Better not to get attached. Better to keep her distance before her heart ended up as dusty and broken as the steps outside.

By the early morning, she rose even earlier than usual, and skipped the back porch steps where she’d promised to meet Alfred, and instead helped her father hitch the old wagon for their usual Sunday trip into town. Church was a ritual they never missed. No one ever skipped sunday mass in the west.

The ride was dusty and quiet. (Y/N) kept her eyes on the horizon, ignoring the faint pang of guilt twisting in her chest. Alfred would understand… or maybe he wouldn’t wait around long enough for it to matter. 

She silently hoped that he would be gone, that he would leave the saloon and attend to his duties and forget about her.

The small wooden church stood at the edge of town, its bell ringing clear across the scrubland. (Y/N) sat beside her pa in their usual pew near the middle, smoothing her best Sunday dress over her knees as the congregation settled in. The preacher began speaking, his voice steady and robotic. 

As she bowed her head during the opening prayer, eyes closed in reflection, something made her glance to the side, toward the stained-glass window where morning light filtered through in soft colors. In the corner of that gentle reflection, she caught a glimpse of movement in the pew directly behind her.

A familiar blond cowlick and a blue uniform with the cap off sat directly besides him.

He sat straight with his hands clasped in front of him. 

When the prayer ended and people began to sing the first hymn, (Y/N) felt his gaze on the back of her neck like a warm touch. She didn’t turn around, but her pulse quickened anyway, Pa’s warning warring with the flutter in her chest.

The final amen rang out and folks began filing outside, (Y/N) lingered, helping her father gather his hat.

A gentle tap on her shoulder made her turn.

"Morning, Miss (Y/N)," he said with a sheepish smile. "Or should I say good mornin'."

“You come to church?” She asked, blinking.

"Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I did say I'd see you before sunrise. Didn't exactly expect you to stand me up."

Heat rushed to her face. Travelers usually never came to the town’s church, especially soldiers as they usually had a chaplain that traveled with them. 

"I…I wasn't standing you up."

"Weren't?" he asked, though there wasn't any accusation in his voice.

"My pa..." She looked toward the wagon where her father was exchanging greetings with a rancher. "We always leave early for church."

"I figured as much after about twenty minutes." He chuckled. "Thought maybe I'd said somethin' wrong."

"You didn't."

"No?"

"I..." She hesitated as she shook her head. "I just thought... perhaps it wasn't wise."

"'Cause I'm a soldier, just passin’ through?"

"...Yes."

They walked together outside as the wind stirred the bushes around the little church, carrying with it the smell of dust and horses.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

She nodded, allowing him to continue.

"I don't know where I'm headed."

"I thought you said you were helping secure the territory." 

"I am." He shrugged. "Army's got me running messages, helping rebuild towns, escorting supply wagons. Truth is… War ended and suddenly nobody tells you where home is anymore."

There was something painfully honest about the confession as yesterday’s laughing hero had disappeared, revealing a tired young man who looked older than his years.

"I enlisted when I was fourteen."

"You did?"

"Fibbed about my age." He smiled weakly. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And now?" 

"Now I'm twenty-four." He laughed under his breath. "And somehow everybody expects me to know what I'm doing."

"You don't?"

"Not a clue."

(Y/N) couldn't help smiling, watching as her father was saying his goodbye’s to the rancher.

"I know one thing though."

"What?"

"I wanted to see you again." Alfred finished quietly, his usual bravado stripped away under the gentle shade of the roof.

She looked down at the ground, suddenly fascinated by the dusty toe of her boot. Her father was still talking with the rancher by the wagon, but she could feel his occasional watchful glances in their direction.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted softly. “Travelers come and go. Pa says they always do. And after the war… everything’s so uncertain.”

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck again, that sheepish smile returning. “I know your pa’s probably right to warn you. I’m just another soldier passin’ through with dusty boots and too many stories. But… I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you since I caught you on those steps. Not just ‘cause you’re pretty, though you are, real pretty, but ‘cause you…”

Then her father called her name

"(Y/N)!"

She looked over instinctively. Pa stod beside the wagon with the reins already gathered in his hands. He wasn't angry, merely waiting, but the look he gave her was enough to remind her of everything he'd said over supper the night before. Alfred followed her gaze and gave a small, understanding smile.

"I reckon that's my cue."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be." He tipped his hat. "Wouldn't dream of keepin' a lady from her pa."

She smiled apologetically.

"I'll... I'll see you around."

"I surely hope so."

For just a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something more. Instead, he simply stepped back, placing his hat back on his head.

"Have yourself a swell Sunday, Miss (Y/N)."

"You too... Alfred."

She turned and hurried toward the wagon, painfully aware of his eyes following her until she climbed aboard. Her father clicked his tongue, urging the horses forward. The church slowly disappeared behind them and for several minutes, neither of them spoke. Finally after some time, her father broke the silence.

"He seems respectful."

"He is." (Y/N) said as she  looked over.

"He didn't try to touch you."

"No, sir."

"He kept his distance."

"He did."

Her father adjusted the reins.

"That's more than I can say for half the young fools who pass through."

A small smile tugged at her lips.

"I suppose."

"But… Respectful don't change the fact that he's still leavin’."

"I know."

"I ain't sayin' he's a bad boy."

"I know."

"I'm sayin' don't build a future with a man who's only promised you tomorrow."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Her father glanced sideways, looking at her with the same look he had given her ma right before they moved west from the city.

She didn’t answer, because she wasn’t sure if she did. 

By Monday afternoon, the small western town had settled back into its usual routine. The bell rang for the midday, children ran around after school, and the general store was busy with with ranchers buying flour and nails.

(Y/N) walked beside her friend, Mary Acker, each carrying small baskets after delivering fresh eggs and preserves for the saloon. 

Mary Acker nudged her with her elbow.

"So."

(Y/N) pretended not to notice.

"So?"

"So..."

Mary Acker drew the word out dramatically.

"How handsome is he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." (Y/N) said as she nearly stumbled.

"Oh, don't you dare."

"I'm serious."

"The entire church watched him staring at you."

(Y/N) buried her face in one hand.

"Oh, Lord..."

"I'm only saying what everyone else is thinking."

"There isn't anything to think."

"Mhm."

"There isn't."

"If you say so."

Before (Y/N) could defend herself again, a burst of loud laughter echoed from across the street.

A group of Union soldiers emerged from the saloon, led by Brandt, who carried himself with the easy confidence of a victor finally enjoying peace. Alfred walked beside him, jacket slung over one shoulder despite the afternoon heat. He was in the middle of telling a story, waving his hands dramatically enough to make the others laugh. 

"...and then Brown falls clean into the river! Boots and all!"

Then men all laughed amongst each other, distracted while Alfred looked across the dirt street, sensing her gaze. The moment Alfred’s blue eyes found her, his entire face lit up. Without a second thought, he excused himself from the conversation and crossed the street.

"There he goes again!" Brandt called after him.

"Told you he was sweet on her." Another soldier laughed.

Alfred ignored every word and stopped a respectful distance from the two young women.

"Afternoon, Miss (Y/N)." he said as he tipped his cap.

"Afternoon, Alfred."

"And who's your friend?"

Before (Y/N) could answer, Mary gave her name.

“Mary Acker.” She said simply with a smile and a taut giggle that she hid behind her lips as she watched the pair.

"Pleasure's mine, Miss Acker.”

"I've heard quite a bit about you."

“Mary!” (Y/N)'s eyes widened as she gasped.

"What?" her friend asked innocently. "I only said everyone in town knows the handsome soldier who nearly let the preacher finish service by himself because he was too busy watching one particular pew."

"Guilty as charged," Alfred laughed as he looked back at (Y/N), his expression growing softer as he noticed her flushed face. "I was wonderin'... would your pa mind if I stopped by the saloon this evenin'?"

"I don't know." (Y/N) hesitated. 

"Fair answer."

"I could ask him."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Jones!" A soldier’s voice called booming through the road.

"I swear he can smell when I'm happy." Alfred sighed dramatically.

The soldiers across the road  chuckled.

"Either get over here or we're eatin' without you!"

"I'm comin'!" Alfred rolled his eyes before looking back at (Y/N). "I'll see you later... if your pa allows it."

He gave a small, respectful nod instead of trying to take her hand. Then he jogged back toward his soldiers. Brandt threw an arm around his shoulders the moment he returned.

"Lucky for you," Brandt teased loudly enough for half the street to hear, "the saloon-keeper's daughter hasn't chased you off with a broom yet."

"No... not yet." Alfred laughed.

"He is absolutely smitten with you." Mary teased (Y/N) on the walk back, nudging her with a smile as the sun’s heat burned between them.

(Y/N) watched Alfred disappear around the corner, unable to hide the small smile growing on her face.

"...Do you really think so?"

"'Think so?' (Y/N), that poor yankee looked at you like you'd hung every star over Arizona."

The afternoon rush had already begun by the time (Y/N) returned back to the saloon. Horses were tied to every hitching post, laughter spilled from the structure her pa had built with her ma. As (Y/N) approached, her pa’s wagon rolled to a stop, and her pa climbed down.

"Help me unload these sacks, would you?"

She nodded automatically, though her thoughts remained elsewhere as she kept wondering if Alfred Jones would actually come.

The lunch rush passed as guests filled every table, mugs clinked together, and the piano in the corner struggled to stay louder than the conversations surrounding it. Singing and dancing could be heard from (Y/N)’s peep hole in her floorboard, a peep hole she used as she laid down on her belly and looked for one man in particular. 

Soon, every plate was cleared and the noise died down. (Y/N) descended down the stairs and found her father wiping down the bar. She lingered awkwardly for a moment before calling out to him.

“Pa?”

"Hm?"

"Alfred… the solider… asked if... if he could stop by this evening."

"He can." Her father continued wiping the counter for several seconds before answering.

"He can."

"...Really?" Her face brightened as she gasped.

"But… I ain't invitin' him here to come see my daughter."

"I figured." Her shoulders slumped as she helped him put away a glass.

"I need someone to keep an eye on the place."

"What do you mean?"

"I've got a delivery needs collectin' from Lemuel's ranch before sundown."

"...Tonight?" Her heart sank as she stuttered out the question.

"Tonight." Pa confirmed.

"But I…"

"You've made that trip a hundred times."

"I know, but…"

"And I can't leave the saloon."

"So you're sending me away."

"I'm sendin' you to do your job."

"Right when he comes."

"Exactly when he comes."

"Pa."

"Darlin'," he said gently, setting the rag down. "If that young man wants to know you, he'll still want to know you tomorrow."

Outside, the evening sun had begun its slow descent, painting the Arizona sky in warm shades of amber. (Y/N) didn’t need to squint as she hitched the old mare to the small delivery wagon. She checked the harness twice, tightened the straps, and climbed onto the driver's seat to make sure everything was secure. 

She loaded her revolver, then placed it in its holster near her skirt, hidden but reachable if need be. Just as she reached for the reins, a familiar voice drifted across the yard.

"Well now..."

She looked over to see Alfred leaning against the porch railing, his hat tipped back on his head and a teasing grin already spreading across his face. 

"A pretty lady like yourself goin' out all alone?"

"Yes."

"That don't seem right." He said as he walked closer to her carriage. 

"I've done it before."

"I don't doubt that."

She climbed back down to tighten one last buckle.

(Y/N) hesitated, Pa’s earlier maneuvering still in her mind. “It’s not far. I’ll be back before the moon is fully up.” 

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the saloon where her father was visible through the window. Then he looked back at (Y/N) as she pulled herself back on the wagon.

“Mind if I ride along?” he asked. “I’ll keep my distance if you want, but I’d feel a whole lot better knowin’ you’re not out there alone. Hero habit, y’know. Plus…” He flashed that bright smile again. “Gives us a chance to talk without half the town watchin’.”

Her cheeks warmed, but after a moment she nodded. “I’d… like that.”

Alfred’s grin returned full force. He swung up into the seat right next to her. 

"Much obliged, Miss (Y/N)," he said, "Promise I won't be too much trouble."

"I somehow doubt that."

"I've been told I'm excellent company."

"By who?"

"Myself."

She rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a laugh as she flicked the reins. The mare snorted before starting down the dusty trail leading west from the inn. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, the only sounds were of the wagon wheels creaking over uneven ground and the clop of the horse's hooves.

"It's beautiful out here." Alfred said as he rested his forearms on his knees, looking out across the endless stretch of sonoran desert.

"It is."

"I've marched through half the country these last few years."

“Have you seen a lot?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Seen forests so thick the sun couldn't get through 'em. Rivers wider than towns. Snow taller than a horse."

"And Arizona?"

"Arizona's honest."

"Honest?" She looked at him curiously.

"It doesn't pretend to be easy." His gaze swept across the saguaros standing like silent sentries over the landscape. "It'll bake you in the daytime, freeze you at night, and if you're foolish enough not to bring water… well thats on you.”

She laughed and dipped her head down. They rounded a bend in the trail, the saloon disappearing behind a line of saguaros. After another few minutes, Alfred spoke again.

"So..." He began to say in order to break the silence again, “You always carry that revolver?"

"I do." Her hand instinctively brushed the holster hidden beneath the folds of her skirt.

"You know how to use it?"

"My pa made sure of it."

"Well I'm relieved."

“Pa says that if you can hit a bottle, then you can hit a rattlesnake.”

"And can you?"

Instead of answering, she pointed toward an old fence post nearly thirty yards off the road. Balanced on top sat an empty bottle left behind by some ranch hand.

"See that?"

"I do."

Without another word, she drew the revolver in one smooth motion and shot echoed across the desert. The bottle exploded into glittering shards and Alfred eyebrows shot up. (Y/N) calmly spun the revolver once before slipping it back into its holster.

"I am suddenly much more interested in stayin' on your good side." Alfred said as he glanced at the shattered glass for another second before laughing.

The two shared another laugh before the wagon rolled into a comfortable silence once more. The sun hung lower now, casting long golden shadows over the trail. After a while Alfred cleared his throat. 

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You may."

"What do you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He gestured vaguely toward the horizon. "Everybody asks what they're supposed to do. Nobody asks what they actually want."

"I've never really had time to think about it. The saloon keeps us busy. I mean, I wake before dawn and go to bed way after the sun is gone. There’s not much time to think."

"...there has to be somethin'."

(Y/N) then thought to herself. Was there a dream, a wish, anything she wanted. Anything at all. She watched the fading Arizona sun for a long moment before speaking.

"When I was little...I wanted to see the ocean."

"The ocean?"

She nodded. "I've read about it in books. Endless water that goes on farther than you can see. I always wondered if it really looked like that."

Alfred's expression softened.

"It does."

"You've seen it?"

"Atlantic."

"What was it like?" (Y/N) asked with childlike curiosity.

He smiled.

"Big."

"I gathered that."

"No..." He chuckled. "I mean... bigger than your mind can make sense of. Makes a fellow feel mighty small."

For a moment, neither of them noticed that the ranch was beginning to come into view in the distance. They were too caught up in the conversation. But soon the mare stopped, already knowing her stop before (Y/N) did. Alfred helped her load the crates and sacks into the wagon. His sleeves were rolled up, and he worked without complaint, muscles flexing under the lantern light Lemuel had left out for them. Once everything was secure, they climbed back onto the wagon seat and started the return journey under a sky now deepening into velvet blue.  

The stars were beginning to emerge, one by one, like scattered diamonds across the vast desert sky. About halfway back, Alfred gently took the reins from her hands.

“Mind if we pull off the trail for a bit?” he asked, voice soft. “There’s a little rise just up ahead. Best spot I’ve found around here to watch the stars. I’d… like to show you.”

(Y/N)’s heart fluttered, but she nodded.

He guided the wagon off the main path to a gentle hill overlooking the darkened landscape. 

They stopped, and Alfred helped her down, spreading his jacket on the ground for her to sit on. They settled side by side, the night air cool and quiet around them.

For a long while, they simply watched the stars bloom overhead. The Milky Way stretched like a river of light across the sky, brilliant and endless. The only light offered to them was from the generosity of the stars overhead.

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) whispered.

“Yeah,” Alfred murmured, but when she glanced over, he wasn’t looking at the stars. He was looking at her. “It really is.”

Her breath caught as he shifted closer. One of his hands came up slowly, gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin with the tenderness of a secret. The desert air grew colder, but where Alfred’s hand rested against her cheek, a radiating warmth blossomed. (Y/N) didn’t pull away.

“(Y/N)… I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I caught you on those stairs,” he said lowly. “If you’ll let me.”

She barely had time to nod before he leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft and hesitant at first, his lips warm against hers under the vast desert sky. (Y/N)’s eyes fluttered closed as warmth bloomed in her chest. Alfred’s free hand found hers, fingers intertwining as the kiss lingered. 

She had never been kissed before, and had only imagined the feeling from the words of authors in her books. There had been times, when one of the serving girls had kissed a cowboy in the saloon and (Y/N) had watched through the peep hole. But this kiss was not like that. This was raw and real, wanting more and giving him nothing less.

When he finally pulled back, he was smiling.

“First kiss?” he asked softly, a hint of that playful grin returning.

“Yes.” (Y/N) nodded, somewhat embarrassed.

Alfred’s grin widened, bright and boyish under the starlight. “Gotta say, I’ve faced down Confederate lines and stubborn mules, but kissin’ the prettiest girl in Arizona might be the bravest thing I’ve done all year.”

“You’re ridiculous.” (Y/N) looked away with a blush.

“Only when it comes to you,” he teased, still holding her hand. The playful sparkle in his eyes made the cool desert night feel warmer. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles once more before reluctantly letting go. “So… when can I see you again?”

She bit her lip, smiling despite the flush still heating her cheeks. “Tomorrow evening? After the supper rush dies down. But you’ll have to be secretive, come through the back door again maybe?”

Alfred chuckled. “I’ll risk it. Worth every second.” He stood and offered her his hand, helping her up with the same gentle care he’d shown all evening. He shook out his jacket and draped it lightly over her shoulders before guiding her back to the wagon.

The ride home was quiet but comfortable, filled with stolen glances and soft laughter. When they reached town again, Alfred stopped the wagon a short distance away so they could walk the rest of the way together.

At the bottom of the porch steps, he tipped his hat with a dramatic flourish. “Until tomorrow, Miss (Y/N). Sweet dreams… and don’t let the coyotes steal that smile.”

She waved back to him and then closed the door behind her. When the door was fully closed, she leaned against the closed door, pressing her fingers to her lips again, feeling the touch of his lips against hers. She wished to be with him again, all night, to grow closer to him, closer than she ever had been to a man before.

The next night, Alfred slipped through the back door just as the last lanterns were dimmed. He met (Y/N) with a conspiratorial grin and a blanket tucked under his arm. They rode out to the same little hill, spread the blanket under the stars, and spent hours talking, laughing, and stealing sweet kisses.

It quickly became their secret routine.

Some nights they simply sat wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing stories until the stars began to fade. Other nights Alfred would bring small gifts, a wildflower he’d picked, a shiny stone he swore matched her eyes, or a piece of hard candy he’d saved from his rations…

Weeks slipped by in a haze of stolen moments and stolen kisses. Pa suspected something, but as long as (Y/N) kept working hard around the saloon, he chose not to notice.

One warm evening, several weeks later, Alfred came to her door again. The air was thick with the scent of desert blooms after a rare rain. They rode out to their hill as usual, but this time the kisses grew deeper, slower, more heated. 

They lay together on the blanket, the stars blazing overhead. Alfred’s hand traced gentle patterns along her side as he kissed her. 

Her fingers tightened in his shirt as the kisses grew more heated, more urgent. Clothes loosened, hands exploring with growing confidence. Alfred pulled back just enough to look at her, his blue eyes dark with desire but still soft with affection.

“(Y/N)…” he breathed, voice rough. “Tell me what you want.”

She swallowed, heart pounding. “Promise you won’t leave me.” 

Alfred’s expression softened instantly. He cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks as he gazed at her lovingly.

“No,” he whispered, smiling gently. “I don’t plan on leavin’ you. Ever. I plan on marryin’ you… if you’ll have me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but they were happy ones. She pulled him down into a fierce kiss, whispering against his lips, “Yes, of course.”

His kisses grew deeper on her skin. Clothes were shed slowly between soft laughs and tender touches until there was nothing between them but raw skin.  He was patient, reverent, kissing every inch of her as if she were something precious.

He entered her slowly.  The first stretch burned, a sharp sting that made her gasp and tense beneath him. Alfred froze immediately, pressing gentle kisses to her temple and whispering soothing words.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he breathed. “Breathe, darlin’. I’m right here.”

It hurt more than she expected at first. She was tight and overwhelmed. She clutched his shoulders, breathing through the discomfort as tears pricked her eyes. Little by little, her body relaxed. The discomfort faded as she shifted her hips experimentally and let out a soft, surprised moan, Alfred groaned in response.

“You feel incredible,” he whispered, voice rough with awe. “So perfect.”

He began to move slowly, gentle thrusts that quickly turned pleasurable. (Y/N) wrapped her legs around him, gasping as sparks of delight replaced the initial pain. Alfred kept his pace steady and loving, one hand intertwined with hers, the other cradling her face so he could watch her expressions. The stars wheeled overhead as they moved together, lost in each other. Pleasure built slowly, cresting in waves that left (Y/N) trembling and crying out his name. Alfred followed soon after, burying his face in her neck with a deep groan.

Afterward, he held her close, panting above her.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

And she kissed him in return.

The glow that spread across (Y/N)’s body never left, even after that night under the stars. It felt as though sunlight was trapped inside her own chest, kept safe and sound. She moved through her chores with a secret smile, her steps lighter, her heart fuller than it had ever been. Even the dusty desert wind felt gentler.

That evening, after the supper rush, Alfred found her on the back porch. He didn’t greet her with his usual playful grin. Instead, he looked serious, almost pained, as he took her hands in his.

“(Y/N)… I need to talk to you.”

Her stomach twisted at his tone. They sat together on the steps, the same ones where he had first caught her. The sun was setting in streaks of orange and pink, but the warmth in her chest was already beginning to cool.

“The Army sent word today,” he said quietly, staring at their joined hands. “They’re calling me south. There’s trouble near the border, raiders, supply lines that need protectin’, folks still tryin’ to rebuild after the war. I… I have to go. I leave at first light.”

His words stung like an Apache’s arrow. (Y/N) pulled her hands away, and turned to fully look at him with her eyes widening. 

“You promised,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me. You said you planned on marrying me. You said…”

“I know.” Alfred’s voice broke. He reached for her again, but she stood up, wrapping her arms around herself. Tears burned in her eyes. “I know what I said, darlin’. And I meant every word. This isn’t what I want. But I gave my word to the Union.”

“I gave myself to you, Alfred. I trusted you. And now you’re just… riding off like every other soldier who passes through?”

He stood too, stepping close but not touching her. “I’m not them. I’m not leavin’ you forever.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “I swear on everything I am—I will come back. I’m gonna marry you, (Y/N) (L/N).I want to give you my name, and I’m gonna build a life with you right here. This isn’t goodbye. It’s just… not yet.”

She turned away, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. “It feels like goodbye.”

Alfred gently turned her back toward him, cupping her face with trembling hands. Tears glistened in his own blue eyes, something she had never seen before.

“I love you,” he said. “More than I ever thought I could love anything after the war. You’re my home. My reason to come back. Please… wait for me. I’ll write every chance I get. And when I ride back over that hill, I’m comin’ straight to your pa to ask for your hand. I promise.”

(Y/N) leaned into his touch, crying harder as she clutched his shirt. “You better come back, Alfred Jones. You better come back to me.”

“I will,” he whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I will. I swear it.”

They held each other as the sun disappeared and the stars came out, the same stars that had witnessed their first night together. Alfred kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, pouring every ounce of love and promise into each one.

The next morning, long before dawn, (Y/N) stood on the porch in her shawl, watching him ride away with a small group of soldiers. He turned in the saddle one last time, raising his hand in farewell, his bright smile strained but determined.

“I told you,” her pa said behind her. “Just another one passing through.”

જ⁀➴.°˖⋆ ℧ 𓃗 .°˖⋆જ⁀➴

It would be a month before his first letter came, and (Y/N) opened it on the way to Mary Acker’s wedding.

The days after Alfred left dragged on like an endless drought. (Y/N) threw herself into work at the saloon, scrubbing floors until her hands were raw, helping her pa with the bar, feeding the chickens at dawn like she always had. But every morning she lingered on the porch steps a little longer, staring at the empty trail where he had ridden away. Every night she lay awake, pressing her fingers to her lips and remembering the stars.

The post post rider caught up to her and handed her a slightly battered envelope with a kind nod.

“From down south, miss. Looks like it’s been through hell and back.”

Her heart leaped into her throat. She thanked him quickly and stepped off the road under the shade of a store.

My dearest (Y/N),

Hope you're doing okay, sweetheart. If this letter made it to you without getting eaten by a horse, blown away by the wind, or stolen by some bandit who can't even read, then I guess my luck's finally turning around. 

The ride south's been one heck of an adventure. Dust everywhere, you'd think the west was trying to swallow me whole. Been helping escort supply wagons, chasing off raiders, and lending a hand to folks rebuilding after everything the war left behind. It's hard work, sure, but somebody's gotta do it... and, well, I'm pretty great at being somebody.

Still... none of it compares to being back home with you.

I keep thinking about that night we sat under the stars. I know I joked around a lot, but I wasn't joking when I made you that promise. I meant every word.

I miss hearing you laugh at my terrible stories. I miss seeing you roll your eyes whenever I act like the hero of every tale. I miss you pretending you don't blush whenever I tell you you're the prettiest girl in the whole territory, even though we both know you do.

Believe it or not, I even miss helping chase those stubborn chickens around the yard. Well... maybe not helping. Mostly watching you chase them while I claimed I was "supervising."

Every night I look up at the sky and wonder if you're looking at the very same stars. It makes the miles between us feel just a little smaller.

I'm coming home, (Y/N). That's a promise. Soon as I've earned my honorable discharge and wrapped up my duty, I'm riding straight back to you.

And when I do, I'm going to ask you to marry me. For real this time. No more waiting, no more goodbyes.

So hang on for me a little longer, okay? Keep smiling. Keep taking care of yourself. And if anyone gives you trouble while I'm gone... just tell 'em Sergeant Jones coming back.

I love you more than all the stars above us, and that's saying something.

Forever yours,

Alfred Jones

Tears blurred (Y/N)’s vision as she clutched the letter to her chest. A sob escaped her, half relief and half longing. She could almost hear his voice in the words, and traced the words with her fingers as though she could imagine being with him as he wrote the letter.

He was probably in a tent somewhere cold, or maybe he was sleeping outside.

She wiped her eyes quickly, careful not to smudge the ink, and folded the letter neatly before tucking it into the bodice of her best dress. Mary’s wedding was today, and she couldn’t show up with red eyes and a runny nose.

She touched the letter through the fabric of her dress and whispered to the wind, “Come back to me soon, you ridiculous hero.”

The church bells began to ring in the distance. (Y/N) straightened her shoulders, a small, hopeful smile forming on her lips despite the ache in her heart.

He had promised.

And Alfred Jones always kept his promises. 

Months blurred into a year.

Then another.

Alfred’s letters came sporadically, sometimes weeks apart, sometimes months, each one worn and travel-stained. He wrote of harsh conditions, long rides, skirmishes with raiders, and the slow work of rebuilding towns still scarred by war.

(Y/N) kept every single one tied with a faded pink ribbon under her pillow. She read them until the paper grew thin, tracing his handwriting with trembling fingers on lonely nights. The warm glow inside her had dimmed to a quiet ache. She still rose before dawn to feed the chickens, still helped run the saloon, but the laughter that once came so easily now felt forced.

The desert felt wider. Emptier.

One cold evening, her father’s health began to fail. The man who had run the saloon with iron will and quiet strength grew frail. (Y/N) sat by his bedside for days, holding his hand as fever and exhaustion took their toll.

On his final night, as the wind howled outside the saloon, Pa squeezed her hand weakly. His voice was little more than a rasp.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)’,” he whispered, eyes heavy . “I’m leavin’ you alone… with no husband. No one to help you carry this place. I tried to protect you… but I failed.”

“You didn’t fail, Pa,” she said softly. “You raised me strong. I can care for myself. I’ve been doing it for years now. The saloon, the chores… I’ll keep it going. I promise.”

He gave her a faint, proud smile. “You always were stubborn. Like your ma.” His grip loosened. “If that Yankee boy ever comes back… tell him to take good care of you. Or I’ll haunt him from the grave.”

A weak chuckle escaped him, then faded. He slipped away quietly in the early hours of the morning, leaving (Y/N) truly alone.

The funeral was small, the whole town came. Mary Acker, now Mary Thompson, held (Y/N)’s hand through the service. When the last guest left and the sky grew cold, the weight became too much to bear, and (Y/N) broke down crying.

She was the only one left. The last of her kin in this town.

Days turned into weeks of mechanical routine. (Y/N) ran the saloon alone, serving drinks with tired smiles, mending linens by lamplight, feeding the chickens at dawn with numb hands. The laughter of guests felt distant. The desert wind seemed colder. At night she sat on the porch steps where Alfred had first caught her, rereading his old letters until her eyes burned.

The post rider came trotting up one morning. “Letter for you, Miss (L/N). Looks important. Came all the way from the southern border.” He said as his horse kicked up some dust.

Her heart stuttered. She set the broom aside with trembling hands and took the envelope. The familiar handwriting made her knees weak. She sank down onto the porch steps, the same steps where everything had begun, and tore it open with shaking fingers. 

My dearest (Y/N),

Sorry it's taken me so long to write. Things have been crazy down here. Raiders have been keeping everyone on their toes, supply wagons always need another escort, and there are still families trying to put their lives back together after the war. Every time I sat down to write, something seemed to pull me away.

But this time I've got news worth writing about.

They're letting us go.

I'm coming home.

If the weather behaves itself and my horse doesn't decide he's in charge, I should be back in town by the end of next week.

I've been counting the days.

When word reached me about your pa... I just sat there for the longest time. I couldn't believe it. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. More than anything, I wish I'd been there with you. I wish I could've held you, let you cry, and reminded you that you didn't have to carry all that hurt by yourself.

I'm sorry you had to be so strong while I was so far away.

But you won't have to do it alone anymore.

I'm coming home for good.

I still remember that night beneath the stars like it happened yesterday. Every promise I made, I meant with my whole heart, and I still do.

I want to marry you, (Y/N).

I want to wake up beside you every morning. I want to help keep the Saloon running, even if I'm probably better at talking to people than fixing leaky roofs. I'll haul supplies, mend fences, chase those stubborn chickens, and make a fool of myself just to hear you laugh again.

So wait for me a little longer, okay? Keep that beautiful smile ready for me, because I've been missing it every single day we've been apart.

And fair warning, I plan on hugging you the second I get there, and I don't think I'm letting go anytime soon.

I love you more than I could ever fit into one letter.

Forever yours,

Alfred Jones

Tears streamed down (Y/N)’s face as she clutched the letter to her chest. Finally, after being alone for so long, she would have him here.

He was coming home.

She pressed the letter to her lips, whispering into the cold air, “Hurry, you ridiculous Yankee. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

The week dragged on like an eternity.

(Y/N) barely slept. She kept the letter tucked in her apron pocket, reading it whenever the ache in her chest grew too heavy. Every hoofbeat on the trail made her heart jump. Every stranger who walked through the doors of the saloon made her look twice, hoping, praying, it was him.

But day after day, it wasn’t.

Until one quiet evening, just as the sun dipped low and painted the desert in deep golds and purples.

(Y/N) was behind the bar, wiping down the counter with slow, tired movements. The saloon was empty, too early for the evening crowd, too late for afternoon travelers. She had sent the last helper home and locked the front door, wanting a moment of peace before another long night.

A firm knock sounded at the door.

She didn’t even turn around, continuing to wipe the same spot on the counter.

“We’re closed,” she called out, voice flat and weary. “Come back tomorrow.”

Another knock. Louder this time.

“I said we’re closed,” she repeated.

The knocking stopped. Then a familiar voice, deeper now, rougher from years of dust and shouting orders, spoke through the door.

“…Even for a hero who promised to come home?”

(Y/N)’s heart stopped.

The rag slipped from her fingers. She spun around so fast she nearly knocked over a bottle. Her hands shook as she rushed to the door, fumbling with the lock before yanking it open.

There he stood.

Sergeant Alfred Jones.

He looked different, thinner, older, with a new scar across his left cheek and dust coating his worn uniform. His blond hair was longer, his blue eyes tired but burning with the same bright intensity she remembered. The Stetson in his hands was battered and sun-faded.

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. She just stared, afraid he was a mirage that would vanish if she blinked.

Then he smiled. “Miss me?” he asked softly.

A broken sob tore from (Y/N)’s throat. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. Alfred caught her instantly, wrapping her in a crushing embrace as he buried his face in her hair.

“I’m home,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m home, sweetheart. I’m so sorry it took so long.”

She cried harder, fists clutching his shirt as if he might disappear again. “You promised… You took so long… I thought…”

“I know. I know.”

They stood in the doorway for a long time, the desert wind swirling around them, as years of waiting, grief, and loneliness poured out. When (Y/N) finally pulled back enough to look at him, Alfred cupped her face with both hands, thumbs wiping away her tears.

“I still want to marry you,” he said, voice raw. “If you’ll still have this beat up soldier.”

“Yes. Of course yes.”

“Now… how about you let me inside? I’ve got a lot of making up to do. Starting with helping you run this place… and ending with making you Mrs. Alfred F. Jones.”