Fics like wild things

He takes the final step, lifts the lantern to flood the empty station with light, and sees a man laying on his stable floor. He’s brunette, sweating, breathing unsteadily. There’s blood wiped messily on his forehead, down his neck. Half laying, half sitting up against the stack of haybales Buck keeps at the bottom of this station, he’s got one bloody hand pressed to his right thigh, which is caked with crimson. His other hand rests wearily on the Colt that’s tucked into the waistband of his pants. Gale’s heart jumps, he wishes suddenly that he really did have a rifle, but when the man sees that Buck’s unarmed he raises the hand slowly, in a shaky surrender. - “You got a name?” Buck asks, in an attempt to distract. The stranger swallows and takes a deep breath. “Bucky.” Buck almost pauses in his work. He scoffs and shakes his head. “I’ll be damned.” “Why’s that?” “People call me Buck.” Bucky huffs out a pained laugh, which quickly devolves into a groan. When he’s finished, he says, “Goddamn fate.” - The one where stablehand Gale finds outlaw John “Bucky” Egan bleeding out in his stables. (The sequel, seven miles out of freedom town, has been posted.)

Fics like wild things

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