It Would Be My Honor

It was raining, yet again. Thunder rolled through the sky, rippling along the waves of gray clouds that drowned out any hint of blue beyond. Not even the sun was shining. Long shadows crept along the buildings, stretching over the painted walls of shops and stores that had closed their doors for the day to ward off the chill.

Ram, of course, was not so lucky. As the sheriff in the bustling town, he was forced to sit guard outside and watch for any strangers or unfriendly faces daring to cause trouble in Valentine. Fortunately enough, the porch was covered which spared him the worst of the storm. What used to be the road was nothing more than a muddy swamp, a problem which the continuous churning of wagon wheels simply exacerbated. A cried insult caught his attention and Ram turned his gaze to where a man motioned incredulously at his team of horses who had driven his cart straight into a pit of mud.

Ramuel couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man flounder with the cart. There was no freeing the wheel, it was rooted up to the spokes. The driver had no choice but to give up with an annoyed huff, stomping off to wave down assistance, leaving the team of horses alone to toss their heads against the diagonal curtain of rain pummeling their coats.

Ram shook his head, leaning back in his chair as he adjusted the rifle laying across his lap. He had grown tired of all of this. It was monotonous, and despite the tiny distractions, nothing pulled his attention from the horrible chill that had set into his bones. The summer months were typically far more tolerable, but this month had brought storm after storm to beat down the town into nothing more than a depression on the map. He ran a hand through his russet hair, pulling it back. The motion did nothing to help, for strands of hair fell back into his eyes. He needed to cut it. Ram made a mental note to visit the barber shop after his shift.

Hour after hour, Ramuel sat and observed the comings and goings of his people, occasionally offering half-hearted hellos and goodbyes, waving at those who cared to acknowledge him.

It was now midday, or so he estimated by the obscured position of the sun. It blinked through the heavy clouds, but did nothing to ward off the storm. The rain had seldom shown signs of stopping and truthfully, he was about to call it a day and abandon his post for the warmth of his desk. Groaning as he stood, Ram was about to turn his back on the town, but something caught and held his gaze.

Ramuel’s eyes narrowed, pulling the rifle to attention as he examined what appeared to be a horse and rider coming into town. Something was off about the pair. As they neared, Ram could make out the details of the mare. She was a beautiful chocolate brown, her fur dappled with ivory patches of gorgeous appaloosa blanketing. There was sparkling intelligence in her eyes, ears pricked forward as she limped into the town, favoring her left hind leg. Blood marred the white roan of her hock, dripping to her hoof.

The rider clutched at his side, his gently sculpted features spattered with mud and blood. His eyes were fearful and wide as they lay on Ram.

“Please,” He whispered in a voice full of pain and terror. “Please help- help my horse.” The man choked out in a plea before his eyes rolled back and he slid off the side of the saddle, hitting the ground heavily as the mare tossed her head in concern.

“Fuck.” Ram whispered, almost tossing the gun aside as he hurried from the sheriff’s porch, crouching next to the man. His fluffy, blond hair was matted with blood from a wound on his forehead, which still oozed steadily down his face. He was dressed in an old blue shirt, too big for his thin frame, but obviously loved, as Ram could see where it had been stitched up numerous times. Blood blossomed on his side, spreading quickly.

He looked frantically towards the clinic. It was closed- the doctor had been out of town for the past week and the nurse he’d left in his stead had already gone home. “Fuck. Fuck stay in there.” Ram murmured to the man, gently lifting him in his arms best he could, ensuring he favored the man’s wounded side.

The horse was another matter. She was furious, her ears pinned back and eyes rolling as she saw her rider in Ram’s arms.

“Hey, girl, I’m going to fix him up, okay?” Ram asked softly, ignoring the foolishness he felt talking to a horse. “Then it’s your turn.”

The mare snapped her jaws after Ram as he turned, carrying the unconscious figure into the sheriff's office. Ram laid the man down on an empty cot in one of the vacant cells, leaving the door wide open. His hands shook and his breathing sped up.

“Fuck.” He murmured, sweat prickling on his brow as he tried to catch his racing thoughts. The first step would be examining the wound, he decided. He took a breath, and began to gently unbutton the man’s shirt. As the clothing fell open, Ram’s eyes settled upon the ornately positioned scars laying delicately over the man’s chest, which was spotted with beauty marks and freckles.

Ram swallowed hard. He knew those scars, knew what they meant. Turning away, Ram hurried to the door, closing the blinds and locking it. The last thing he wanted to do was risk the man’s safety and leave his life to the mercy of educated onlookers.

As he returned to the man’s side, he pulled a stool with him, wiping the dust from the seat as he settled in next to the cot. A ragged scrape was torn across the man’s side, clotted by mud and dried gore. Ram looked around, locating a shallow wooden bucket resting next to his desk, filled since the morning with rainwater he had collected. It wasn’t the most sanitary, but it would work.

Ram stood again, his eyes lingering on the man as he pulled the bucket to his side, grabbing a cloth before sitting back on the stool. Dampening the fabric, Ram dabbed at the wound, gently washing away the grime, watching the man’s face occasionally to ensure he wouldn’t wake up. From the dark rings etched under his eyes, he obviously needed the rest.

It took nearly twenty minutes to carefully wash around the gash, and now that it was clean, Ram sighed as he realized it warranted stitches. He chewed his lip. It wouldn’t be the first time Ram had stitched up a wound, but it had been a while and the last thing he wanted to do was cause further damage. Ramuel carefully menuevered the shirt off of the man’s thin frame, setting it aside. He’d wash it later, he decided.

As the sheriff, Ramuel always had to be ready for any obstacles that might have been thrown at him, therefore he had a stitch kit in his satchel, and once he had retrieved it, was grateful to find that it was stocked.

“Please don’t wake up.” Ram urged the man as he threaded the needle and took a grounding breath before turning his attention to the wound. He swallowed hard as he made the first stitch, sighing in relief as his training came flooding back to him. Once he worked into a rhythm, it took less than five minutes to fully close the wound and tie it.

Ram leaned back, examining his work as he smiled, covering the wound with a sticky bandage. “I’m so good.” Ram murmured to himself with an accomplished smile on his face. But, he realized, his work wasn’t done yet. The wound on the man’s head, while significantly more shallow, also required immediate attention.

Ram cleaned the cloth and repeated his process, washing the wound and covering it with yet another bandage. His fingers lingered slightly along the man’s cheek, gently brushing the hair from his face. He was handsome, Ram realized, under the coating of blood and dust that had now been washed away. His features were soft, and faint freckles danced along his skin like constellations in the sky.

His eyes traced the man’s cheek bones, down to his lips, where his attention lingered for a moment. What are you doing, Ram? He scolded himself as he pulled his eyes away, covering the man with a blanket bunched at the end of the cot, and turned back to where the shirt was. He already had the needle and thread out, might as well sew it up.

With familiar motions, Ram carefully closed the open gash that had been torn in the weathered blue fabric. He was almost done when a voice startled him and Ram’s hand jerked as he pricked his finger with the needle.

“What… who are you?” The man looked at Ram from eyes heavy with exhaustion, slowly lingering on the shirt in Ram’s hands. Fear slashed across his face at the implication of him shirtless, at what Ram must have seen.

“I’m the sheriff.” Ram held his hands up. “It’s okay, you’re safe here, it’s just us.”

The man didn’t reply, just kept his eyes fixed on his shirt. “Did you see..”

“I hope you don’t mind. You were bleeding out.” Ram offered the man a small smile. “But I promise you, I.. it’s nothing to me. My name is Ram.” He said in a gentle voice, talking as one might to a scared horse.

The man bit his lower lip. “Um..” He looked around, swallowing hard. “I need- I should go. My horse- she-”

“She’s okay, I promise. She’s got a fighting spirit. She’s outside, I wanted to get you steady before I tended to her. You were hurt a lot more than she was.”

“Okay.. uh.. What are you doing?” The man nodded at the shirt in Ram’s hands.

Ram immediately flushed red, giving the man a sheepish smile before he cleared his throat. “I- well, I could tell this shirt means a lot to you. I thought maybe I’d fix it up, if that’s okay? I promise I can sew.”

Sadness was etched so deeply in the man’s face that Ram’s heart constricted. “Yeah it was.. Uh, it belonged to someone really close to me.” He sniffled softly. “Thank you for fixing it.”

“Of course. It’s no problem.” Ram smiled as he took the cloth and began to wash the shirt as well. “So, I’m not asking much, but can I at least get a name?” He glanced up.

“Uhh.. it’s.. Lawrence. Law.”

“Law. I like that name.” He spoke softly as he stretched the shirt out on the bars to dry. “Pick it yourself?”

Law blushed, and Ram felt a sense of pride as the man cracked a small smile. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Well, you chose a good one. I’ve always liked Laws.” He winked at Law. “Get it?” Anything to calm the man down enough to potentially get a meal in him would be a good idea. Ram couldn’t help worry creeping into his chest when he saw just how thin the man was under the oversized shirt.

Law smiled again, cuddling further into the cot as he watched Ram work. “So… you’re not going to turn me in?”

Ram tilted his head. “Turn you into who? Me?” He hummed. “No, I’m not. We all have secrets.” Ram shrugged. “Your life isn’t my business. Unless you shot someone, then unfortunately it would be-” He quickly moved on when he saw worry wash over Law’s face. “- shot someone in front of me, I should say.”

Law let out a sigh of relief. “Well, alright, as long as you promise not to go behind my back.” He pointed at Ram, his eyes narrowed.

Ram chuckled and held his hands out. “Scout’s honor.”

Law smiled. “Alright. Fine.”

“So, what brought you to Valentine? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before?” Ram asked as he stood, working on cleaning up the mess he had left with the water.

“Business, of a sort.” Law hummed. “I collect things, you know? So I uh heard there was a ring here that I wanted to get.”

“Collector, huh? I didn’t think collectors got stabbed.”

Law huffed. “Me neither. But sir- Ram- did you see anyone else follow me in? To town?”

“No, just you. Why? Are you in trouble?”

Law chewed his lower lip. “Um, I don’t know.” He looked up at Ram with big eyes - Ram tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. “Can I stay here for a few days? Apple.. She needs to get better. I won’t be any trouble! I promise!”

“Of course. I can get you a room in the local hotel if you’d like that. A bath might serve you well, after all.” He teased Law. “Plus, there’s a stable your mare can stay in while she heals.”

Law’s cheeks flushed pink and he looked away. “Okay fine.” He huffed. “I don’t smell that bad!”

Ram raised an eyebrow, but simply chuckled as he stood, rolling his shoulders as he chased away the stiffness that had settled in his joints. “I’m sure you’re missing a real bed.” He nodded to the cot. “That has to be less than comfortable.” He handed Law his shirt, which was now dry and clean.

Law took the shirt with shaking hands, letting the fabric slide through his fingers. “Thank you for fixing this.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper as he once more looked up at Ram. The sheriff nodded.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, um, it is.” Tears glistened in Law’s chocolate eyes. “It means a lot to me. And that you didn’t turn me in.” He gave Ram a wobbly smile.

The man was quiet for a moment, thinking of a proper reply. “Of course, Law.” He said softly, crouching down in front of the collector. Slowly, tentatively, he reached up to cup Law’s face, brushing his thumbs under his eyes, wiping the tears away. “Just… stay safe, please?” He murmured.

Truthfully, Ram wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to this man. Countless people had come and gone in Valentine, none of them leaving a mark on his heart or his mind, but there was something about this one. Something about Law urged Ram to protect him, and every instinct was screaming at him to stay.

Law’s face reddened and the blush spread down to his neck. “Sheriff..”

“Yes?”

They were whispering now, sharing each other’s breath as their faces grew closer. “Can you stay with me? There’s… I think I’m in danger.” Law sniffled. “I’m scared.”

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

The realization of their closeness seemed to set in at the same time, as both of them pulled away simultaneously.

“I should get a room in that hotel, huh?” Law said after a few moments, embarrassment on his face as he blushed, smiling sheepishly at Ram.

“Yes, I suppose we should get you checked in.” The sheriff replied, just as flustered as the collector was. He cleared his throat and stood, turning away to get Law’s things that he had placed on the desk. “Just let the front desk know that I sent you, all charges should be waived. I’m assuming someone has already taken Apple to the stables.” Ram opened the blinds and unlocked the door, surprised at the realization that it was night already.

“Thank you, sir.” Law smiled as he pulled his shirt on and buttoned it. “Um.. will I-” He blushed harder, if possible. “Will I see you again?”

Ram pondered the question. “It would be my honor.” He smiled as he opened the door for Law, who got to his feet, grimacing slightly at the pull of the stitches.

“Okay.. well… thank you.” Law smiled as he slid past Ram, limping down the steps of the porch.

“Oh, Law?”

The collector turned at Ram’s call, his head tilted curiously. “Yeah?”

“Can I get you for breakfast maybe?”

Law beamed. “It would be my honor.”