assassinwithahairpin | (no subject)

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Texas was blistering hot, in a way that Park Bokyung had never known in Korea or in western Washington. He'd been traveling for four days, exhaustion starting to set in. The horse he had was a skinny thing--bought from an Arapaho tradesmen when he'd crossed through Colorado for more than Bokyung had really been able to spare, but it was a resilient thing. He could commiserate with that.

He came into a small town, unsure what it was called or where he was on the map. It didn't really matter. He wasn't near enough the Rio Grande to really orient himself. Just passing through scrub and sand and a hundred miles of blue skies in every direction.

People were staring. Bokyung was used to that, and so he paid it no real mind. He approached the boarding house and left his little Arapaho mustang at the post as he went in and inquired for room. The matron at the front said there was none but to try and saloon, as it might be more to his style. He highly doubted that, but unhitched his horse and went over to the saloon instead.

It was an effort to ignore the stares. Hadn't any of these men ever seen an Oriental before? There were rail tracks laid not too far from here--he knew from crossing them--which meant they must have seen some variety at some point. Unless it was a rare track laid by Irish and Germans. But Bokyung doubted that.

The music in the saloon did not stop when he stepped in. Nothing did. That was certainly preferable.

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"Now that you're feeling more conversational, are you hungry?"

Even as he asked Goodnight loosened the saddlebag resting by his right knee. He drew even with Bokyung and offered it over. Inside he had a few biscuits left and some salt pork. He had every intention of getting more of both before skipping town but he could make due if they didn't hit somewhere civilized in the next day or two.

Bokyung was starving. He didn't say it. He peered into the bag and took out some of the tack and an equal size portion of the pork and ate them slowly. When was the last time he'd ate? He couldn't quite remember, but it had tasted about like this.

"Go on and finish what's in there if you're so inclined. I've got more to work with when we stop." Goodnight couldn't recall how close the next town or settlement was but he had enough packed away to keep the two of them moving at least through the next day. With luck he'd be able to supplement with hunting if it came to that.

He let the silence stretch a bit while Bokyung ate.

"What exactly are you running from?" He asked after a few miles passed. "The warrant only lists the charges and that's hardly a story."

Bokyung took the saddle bag and laid it across the horn on his saddle so that he could very slowly pick through the food. He didn't trust that this was without cost, nor did he want to be sick. So slower was better.

He shrugged. "Never actually seen the warrant. Not sure what it's for."

That was not an answer, but it would inform his.

"A few murders and leaving an indentured servitude before the contracted time had passed." Goidnight's time shifted on the latter half of the listed charges; had that been the only crime attached to Bokyung's name he wouldn't have taken the job at all. It reminded him far too much of the bounty hunters that chased down runaway slaves and he couldn't stomach that.

Bokyung shrugged. That was about the long and short of it, really. He was glad things hadn't gotten out of hand with that list; he wasn't sure if things would be better or worse if some of the others things he'd done were on there.

He didn't really know how to take that sort of dismissive tone on the last bit, though. What was that supposed to mean? Did it mean anything?

He said nothing.

"Well at least the record is accurate. Did the murders happen before or after you decided to bolt?"

Goodnight didn't exactly expect to get much information, not so soon after technically apprehending the young man. But it was worth a try.

"Does it make a difference on how you're going to deal with me?" Bokyung asked pithily. He didn't think it would. He didn't think explaining the situation of the murders would do anything at all, except incriminate him maybe, and possibly put him in danger.

"There are plenty of reasons for a servant to want to run away. Plenty of reasons too why murder might have been necessary along the way." Goodnight shrugged. "Just trying to gauge my travel partner is all."

Bokyung raised a brow at that, still staying quiet. He wasn't going to answer the question, and he didn't know why Goodnight was trying. But listening to the speculation was just fine. Maybe he'd get a laugh out of it.

When he realized Bokyung wasn't going to offer anything up, Goodnight moved on. "Where are you from?" Hr asked. In all his time between Oregon and California he'd gotten used to hearing names more foreign than he'd once been accustomed to but he was pretty sure Bokyung Park was not Chinese.

"Tacoma, Washington." The words dropped out of Bokyung's mouth like syrup, disdainful and curious what it mattered anyway. He looked over at Goodnight, pinned him with a narrow stare. "My family is Korean, if that's what you're asking."

Goodnight rolled his eyes. "I couldn't tell by your accent if you were born here or over there, pardon the curiosity. All I knew was your name didn't sound Chinese. But if you like I can just start making wild assumptions."

"Is that not what we're already doing?" Bokyung arched a brow. He was certainly coming to some of his own conclusions in regards to this Goodnight fellow, and he had no doubt that Goodnight was making his own. They were just being civil enough not to start bandying them about.

"I am attempting conversation. However the goal does not seem all that mutual."

Not that it actually put him off any. If Bokyung preferred silent bristling, Goodnight could endure that.

He just wouldn't endure it quietly.

Bokyung shrugged and, giving Goodnight another one of those narrow, deadpan looks, he said, "My English isn't very good."

That was a lie, and such an obvious one, but he'd much prefer that he be left to his thoughts than harangued for the next however far they were going to travel.

Goodnight snorted a laugh. "Have it your way," he said amicably. Goodnight Robicheaux did not require participation to hold a conversation. He allowed a few minutes of silence for Bokyung's dignity, or something, before he started talking. And maybe he was talking to Bokyung, or maybe his horse, or just himself. But he sure was talking.

Bokyung tuned it out, for the most part. He was mostly pretty good at that. He did not answer any questions directed toward him, or in his direction, and nor did he offer any reaction to most of the things being said.

For the most part, he was, again, just considering the logistics of getting out of the situation.

When the sun started sinking Goodnight realized they probably wouldn't have the luck of hitting a settlement before dark.

"We're stopping for the night," he announced when he saw a promising copse of trees on the edge of stream they'd been following on and off for hours.

Finally, Bokyung thought. He felt his shoulders sag just a little, a relief that infused his whole body. He felt bowlegged and overworked, even though they hadn't been riding hard and his horse was so skinny.

They came to the edge of the copse and Bokyung slid, exhausted, from the back of his horse. He still said nothing for a moment, naturally and easily following into getting the camp ready. He wasn't entirely sure he trusted this well dressed warrant officer to know how.

Goodnight, however, set camp just fine. He'd been doing it on his own long enough that it took him a moment to adjust his regular choreography to include another person. Once he was sure Bokyung was set to tend the fire they'd started, Goodnight turned his attention to his horse. He took the saddle off, took the bit off the bridle so she could graze without being hindered, then made sure she was tied to a tree and couldn't wander far. The last thing he needed was for her to get curious about the fire. Again.

"There's more food in one of those saddle bags," he said, gesturing at some of the ones he'd dropped by his bedroll.

"I'm fine," Bokyung said, staring into the fire, curled into his oversized riding coat. He waited until Goodnight had come to settle as well, and then got up to tend to his horse as well. He wasn't sure how close he wanted to be to a man that had technically arrested him.

Goodnight shook his head but he managed not to make a fuss. He'd cook what he had and if Bokyung decided he was hungry, it'd be there. He hummed and sort of sang to himself while he worked, just for a sound other than the horses snorting and grazing.

The Arapaho mustang mouthed at Bokyung's hair gently, once or twice, and Bokyung talked to it quietly in Korean. He didn't want to forget how to say his parents--his--words. He brushed the horse down and then brought the saddle over to the fire so he could fiddle with it a bit and see if he could mend any of the fraying parts of it. He couldn't afford to have it professionally fixed, after all. And he'd had the saddle longer than he'd had any horse.

Goodnight quieted to listen to Bokyung talk to his horse. He didn't really understand a word of it, but he liked the way Bokyung's voice sounded - far more affection with that pony than anything he'd said to Goodnight throughout the day. He made them rice and cut up a few pieces of pork to throw in, just for some flavor.

When it was done he divided it into a bowl and a mug. He leaned to put the bowl and a spoon next to Bokyung.