Continuation of Patch and Eddie's story ;)
--

Patch sold out in front of his wagon the rest of the day, the crowds ebbed and flowed and often returned as Patch replaced what he sold immediately with some new wonder or another from the back of the pot-bellied wagon..

Eddie was never too far away, unable to focus on the idea of going back to work with this kind of excitement in town. Besides, he hadn’t even reported in to the MacMurray Stables that morning and he was sure that the fussy old matron had written him off ever since the last time he hadn’t gone in. What did it matter, the room he shared in the hotel with his brother, Lupe, was fine so long as Lupe kept up his job at the blacksmith, and if Lupe didn’t kick him out; which he periodically threatened to do.

By the time the sun had set behind the red rock butte above Redcliff and the lamps were being lit along the street Patch was tearing down the shop. He wrapped the more breakable treasures in layers of paper and rags before arranging them neatly into boxes and stacking them into the little pot-bellied wagon. He tugged the patchwork tarp down and drew it as tight as he could to lock it up then turned to see Eddie bounding off the nearby porch and hurrying over.

“There you are.” Patch smiled. “I was about to look for a guide, I’m starved, where should we go?”

‘We!’ Eddie practically squealed inside his head and fought to keep the obvious joy from taking over his face. He cleared his throat and glanced up and down the street, trying to keep in mind the places where he wasn’t exactly welcome anymore.

“Er, well… MacMurray Inn over there has a lovely parlor. Her daughter plays piano and she makes a good roasted anythin’ she gets ahold of. But mind you she’s a bit cross with me at the moment. Then we’ve got the saloon, food’s not fancy but it's hot and the drinks are cold, as you know. That leaves the Golden House, the monument to the sin and depravity of the town, the heart of the action, fiddle music, dancin’, gambling, women…” he trailed as Patch laughed.

“I’m sold.” he flicked Eddie with his tail as they ventured towards the tall yellow building down the street with ornate white trim. The lively piano and fiddle could be heard from two buildings down and the loud sound of laughing and merry voices nearly drowned it out by the time they climbed the wooden steps.

“This is more like it!” Patch grinned as they entered and had to squeeze themselves around packed card tables to the counter to order. Critters of every spot, stripe and scale were mingling in the din and so far everything was civil and light.

Eddie hopped up onto a vacant barstool beside Patch and waved a hand over to the bartender, a stout horned lizard wearing a crisp white shirt and pinstripe vest.

“Ugh, Eddie.” The lizard rumbled in a deep rasp of a voice as he clamped down on a cigarillo and waddled over. “Come to give me your daily coins again?”

“Aye, I should make an arrangement with MacMurray to have the funds sent directly to your till, Gerald!” Eddie grinned and set his hat on the hook beneath the counter. “A couple of your finest, cheapest whiskies for me and my new friend here.”

“Big spender.” Gerald stifled an eye roll. “I take it the two of you are stayin’ the night as well?”

“Oh I…” Eddie glanced sideways at Patch. Maybe he would want to stay here and find a better way to spend his time. The thought sent a cold flicker through his gut but to his relief Patch shook his head.

“Nah, as tempting as that is, I've got a place of my own set up already.” he squinted at the menu on the chalk plaque behind the lizard’s head. “But I will take your special tonight, without the chicken though.”

“Without?” Gerald snorted in confusion. “It's a chicken special, nutcase!”

“I know.” Patch shrugged, unphased at his outburst. “But I’ll take all the vegetables and taters that come with it instead.”

Gerald gave Patch a suspicious look, then turned and waddled back towards the kitchen to place the order.

“A chicken dinner with no chicken? Yer a funny one.” Eddie tilted his head.

“I’ve eaten vegetable soup in the wagon for the last three weeks. Sometimes you just want something different. Besides, ‘can’t stand chicken, it makes me sick.” Patch tossed a smile to the second bartender that brought them their drinks. “When you’ve crawled inside and around enough bird and rabbit carcasses in slaughterhouses it's enough to turn you off meat for life.”

“Slaughterhouses? You?” Eddie couldn’t imagine the charismatic buck armed with knife and saw hacking up livestock. He was meticulously clean and his white fur was spotless. He couldn’t imagine him dripping in the gore of it all. “But yer just a wisp of a thing!” he teased.

“Huh, I know.” Patch rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink. “It was vile work, dangerous too.” he examined the missing finger tip on his right hand. “All manner of swinging hooks and spinning blades. I’m happy to be out of there.”

Eddie could see the talk was bringing him down and decided to liven the mood. “But now yer here!” he grinned. “Travelin’ the west solo, I bet you’ve got tales to tell about that!”

“Oh do I ever.” Patch gave him a sly smile and polished off his drink.


They talked long into the evening. The crowds shifted and changed behind them while the collection of glasses around them grew. Patch dazzled Eddie with stories from Chicago and his journey west. The towns he passed through, the near misses of highway robbery, the curious and often spooky abandoned ghost towns he rode through.


“I’ll never stay the night in one of those again.” Patch chuckled into an empty glass as set it aside. “Didn’t get a wink of sleep, still convinced I saw the ghost of an old outlaw stalking the camp through the mist at night. Never again.” he repeated.

Eddie was leaning hard on the bar, propped up on a fist as he listened in awe to the stories of the past few hours.

“Sounds frightening! Why stay only one night in towns though? You sound like a wanderin’ spector yerself! Should I be worried?” Eddie teased.

“Nah, I don’t bite…” Patch set his glass down and flicked an ear casually. “Not hard anyway.”

Eddie laughed a little too loud and nearly toppled from his stool. Patch reached out and caught his arm, pulling him upright. Eddie saw the flicker of concern through Patch’s face before he caught him and bit back another laugh of delight.

“Easy there, hotshot.” he smiled. “I think we’ve drank our corner of the bar dry for now.” he gestured to the glasses.

“Appears so.” Eddie righted himself and donned his hat. “I supposed we should uh…” he looked around. “Where are you stayin’?”

Patch shrugged. “Usually I just sleep in the wagon. The Inn was full when I got here. Shame, but what can you do, right?”

Eddie smiled devilishly. “I know a room that’s open.”

–

The two of them left the Golden House and made their way over to the MacMurray Inn. Eddie asked Patch to wait in the parlor as he dashed up the stairs and hurried to his and Lupe’s room and flung open the door.

“I’ll flay you alive.” Lupe growled from his bed in the dark as he shielded his eyes from the hall light.

“Yes but can you do it tomorrow!?” Eddie begged. “I need the room tonight.” he glanced over his shoulder.

“Absolutely not.” Lupe turned on his side to face away from the door. “Go somewhere else.”

“There is nowhere else!” Eddie hissed. “Everything’s taken! Be a brother and have a heart!”

“I’ll have yours with a fork through it if you don’t shut the door!” Lupe’s hand groggily slapped at the nightstand until it found a fur brush and he chucked it towards the door. Eddie jumped back from it and pouted miserably.

“I’d do it for you!” Eddie huffed. He saw Lupe’s hand searching the nightstand once more and stray dangerously close to his gun belt and he sighed sharply in annoyance.

“Ach, fine! I hope you get a crick in your back you old loveless heathen!” he slammed the door and turned with a scowl in the hall to see Patch was standing there, twitching his whiskers in amusement as Eddie’s eyes widened like saucers.

“‘Loveless heathen’?” Patch repeated, giving his bent tail a curl. “That’s a bit strong.”

“I was just… checkin’ in on him.” Eddie fumbled. He looked down the hall, the other rooms were full. He was just trying to form a new idea when to his surprise, Patch sauntered over and gave the bandana around his throat a tug.

“Relax,” he said softly. “I know where we can go.” he gave the bandana a little flip before turning and heading back down the stairs. Eddie followed after him zombie-like with his face heating up so much he swore it was visibly red through his fur.

–

“Stables?” Eddie looked around as he lit the lantern in the entryway. “What are we, teenagers?”

“I thought you were some kind of outlaw.” Patch walked over to where his pair of king quail were stalled and patted each of their heads. “Aren’t you used to roughing it?”

“Of course!” Eddie blustered. “But sleeping in a great itchy stack of hay is hardly what I’d call rom-…” he trailed as Patch yawned and stretched his back. “Oh, yer tired.” he said slowly. “That’s fine! I uh, I’ll get something together.” he turned away feeling his face burning. Had he gotten his signals crossed after all? Maybe Patch really was just looking for a place to crash. He started to gather up some saddle blankets and cold weather rugs but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie.” Patch grinned. “What do you think is happening here?”

Eddie’s smile fluctuated in confusion. “What do… you think is happenin’ here?”

Patch chuckled and shook his head. “You don’t need to try so hard, I already like you.” he stepped forward and Eddie found himself leaning against the stable wall, completely captivated by Patch’s soft brown eyes as he leaned in close enough for their noses to touch.

Eddie’s curly fur fluffed up excitedly and he closed the distance between them with a kiss, hugging his arms around Patch’s back while he felt Patch’s wrap snugly around his neck. He steered away from the stable wall as Patch stepped backwards into an empty stall and soon had the white buck pinned gently against the back wall. Eddie stopped kissing him only long enough to shut the stall door behind them, then Patch’s hands gripped his collar and tugged him down onto the hay on top of him.

–

Eddie smiled under the worn saddle blanket with Patch dozing on his chest. He stroked his hands down the length of the white buck’s side. His fur was so soft, every time he found a fleck of straw or grit he could comb it out with ease. In contrast, his curly ginger fur was bristling with bits of straw and hay and it would be an entire ordeal combing it out later. Despite the itchiness he didn’t care at the moment.

He brushed some of Patch’s downy soft headfur from his eyes and smiled seeing his whiskers twitch.

“You asleep?” he whispered.

“Mm.” Patch hummed back, sounding like he was barely conscious at all.

“In the mornin’ we can go upstairs.” Eddie smiled. “After Lupe goes to work.”

“Mm…” Patch hummed back, his brows furrowing slightly. Eddie pulled the blanket up further over his shoulder, thinking he was getting cold.

“See you in the mornin’.” Eddie kissed him on top of the head, then settled down, wrapping him up in his arms.

–

Eddie woke up the next morning with a pounding headache.

“O’Shea! What the hell are you doing in there?” Came the rough grunt of Joe MacMurrary, the stable manager. The stout ginger-and-white mouse was leaning into the stall from the outside.

Eddie flinched awake and looked down in his arms to see he wasn’t holding Patch, he was holding a sack of quail feed.

“...What?” Eddie groaned and sat up.

“Where are your trousers!” Joe demanded. “Did you sleep in that stall?”

Eddie groaned and stood up, ignoring him for several moments as he reached up and pulled his trousers free from the low rafters above and shook them out. “What time is it?” he yawned.

“It's half-past nine! You’re supposed to be working! Not sleeping on the job!”

Eddie yawned and tugged on his trousers and boots, turned slowly around to take in the stables. His stomach dropped when he saw the two blue king quail in the far stall were gone.

“Where’d those two kings go?” he dropped the shirt he had been shaking out and hurried over to the stall to look inside, it was empty.

“Gone with their owner I suppose, he left before dawn. Said he had to be making his way.”

“What??” Eddie gaped, feeling his heart squeeze. “He left?” He hurried outside past Joe and saw that the wagon and all the bric a brac were gone.

“He left without sayin’ goodbye?” his shoulders sagged.

“Are you going to get to work or not?” Joe asked.

Eddie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Would ya let me get my shirt on straight first!” he grumbled as he went back into the stables and got dressed moodily while Joe stared at his back judgmentally.

“You take one of these Golden House girls in here last night? Ma’ll have you fired if she finds out!”

“No.” Eddie responded in a snide tone, even though he very much had taken many of them here on one occasion or the other. He looked down and around and rested his hands on his waist. “Where’s my gun belt?”

“Wherever you left it.” Joe snorted. “Stable hand doesn’t need guns anyway.”

“No, I took it off last night before…” Eddie dug manically through the hay and stood up puffing. “They’re gone! My hat too!”

“Well, serves you right, keep a better track of your things– hey! Where do you think you’re going!” Eddie hurried out of the stables and into the street. He jogged towards the road out of town westward as he ignored his pounding headache.

“You cheeky bugger!” he puffed as he ran. “I’ll get you!”