Ariesque Presents:

Back in the Day: The Legend of Logan’s Kin

Genre: AU/Romance/Drama

Rated: PG-13 for violence, language, and other suggestive parts; I will warn beforehand

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or lyrics of any songs I place in my story, although I do wish I did.

A/N: Set in the 1870s, stylized like a western, but only partially takes place in the Wild West, I’ve taken the whole concept of romance and fueled it through my favorite couples (visit my profile page to read which ones if you haven’t already guessed). I did do some research (thank goodness for libraries!), and tried my best to write as they would have talked in the nineteenth century, but if I just about stink worse than a skunk (I just learned that California is the coast and not considered the West, so I’m more pitiful than I once thought I was), you can ride me out on a rail; I swan on my authenticity. And please let me know how it went (I'll give you props for making it all the way to the end)...now on to the story!

1. The Raging Storm

Caldecott, Mississippi: 1873

Do I cry, in the night?
Do I long to hold you tight?
And do I wake, wanting you?
Yes I do
Do I recall, everyday,
How you took my breath away?
Do I remember loving you?
Yes I do...

Something was wrong.

Anna Marie shifted in bed, her long auburn locks falling unto her pillow. The girl stared blankly at the ceiling, which badly needed to be repaired.

Must remind Logan, she told herself, leaving her room. The cock hadn't crowed. It was still early morning, and the sun was sleeping. The world was sleeping. Anna Marie was not. She was looking for Logan.

He was sitting in his room, face in his hands. Anna Marie had never seen him so distraught; he did not look at her when she came in.

"Logan--" she knelt down in front of him, taking his hands into hers-- "what's dah matter?" He stared past her.

The room was black except for a small, orange light by Logan's side. He sighed, something he rarely did in front of Anna Marie, and a chord of alarm struck inside the girl.

“Nuthin.’ ” Anna Marie knew he was lying; she could tell as she gazed into his sad eyes. A storm was raging in those grey pools for a reason. He was thinking about her again.

“Talk tah me, Logan. Fer yer sake.” Still he would not speak. Anna Marie joined him on the bed and put her head against his shoulder. This was one of his better nights; sometimes he’d wake up thrashing and yelling or he’d just leave all together and Anna Marie would not hear from him until at least three days later, with Logan coming back all tuckered out from liquor and women and whatever else he did.

The Wolf-Man growled and shifted uneasily, smelling her worry. The way she said those words made him ache. Logan lay back in bed, eyes on the ceiling.

And just when Anna Marie thought he’d simply clam up before shoving off, Logan spoke.

“Ro.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Ororo Munroe.” The girl had heard that name before; Logan would sometimes call for her in his sleep. “There’s this house in Philadelfy along the common highway. It’s white with green shutters and flowers running up the front lawn. She tends her plants all the time; I’ve watched her with those rain clouds…” Logan gave a Anna Marie a small smile, warmed by this memory. “She liked playing that piano of hers and knew all her favorite pieces by heart. Ro, with her silk white hair and skin of peach’s stone.” Anna Marie gazed into those lost grey eyes and saw, even to this day, how much this fool still loved some girl called Ororo Munroe.

Anna Marie's words were hard to collect. “What ever happened to Ro?” Logan shook his head hopelessly.

"I don’t know," was the answer, but it was not enough for Anna Marie.

Then again, nothing was ever enough.

Yes I do dream of all we had together
Yes it's true we lost it all forever
Do I pray anyway?

Yes I do…(1)

near Caldecott, Mississippi: 1877

It was a sweltering hot day in July as Anna Marie was being read her charges to be put to death in front of a crowd armed with pitchforks and knives. The scene seemed so cliché that the girl wanted to laugh, but decided against it and therefore shut pan.

“…For the murder of Cody Banks and Mr. Logan (no last name known) just this morning, bodies found about two hours apart…” She closed her eyes to block the misery around her. She should not be lynched like this, but Mississippi did not charge murderers based on mutant powers. So the town took matters into their own hands and decided to hang her from a nearby tree themselves.

The man behind her asked if she had any last words. Anna Marie wanted to say she never asked to be a mutant, but the crowd taunted her as Mrs. Banks wailed for her son’s life and yelled she hoped Anna Marie would rot in hell. “Yah varmint! Rogue!” With that, she spit on her. Just as well, Anna Marie supposed, I’m better off dead, a mutant like me.

They put the black bag about her head and fixed the noose tightly around her neck. The man’s voice was loud and clear. “May God have mercy on your soul.” The soapbox was then knocked from under her feet, and with nothing but the noose holding her up, she hung there as the crowd filed out slowly.

---

She cut her hands free with the dagger that Logan made her take, so by the time the last person left, she was already sawing the rope above. It was a wonder how she made it in time, how she finally dropped to the ground and promised never to take the good old earth for granted again. Pulling the black cloth off her head, she coughed and sputtered until all she could do was lie there in her own mess, waiting until the breath would come back to her. And when it did, she took to running, as far and fast as she could until there wasn’t another mile left in her worth trekking.

Four Hours Before

Logan was a strange man with a stranger past who lived with a girl named Anna Marie in the then tiny town of Caldecott, Mississippi. They weren’t related, but no one would believe it, since they practically acted like family. In fact, they were all they had left: her folks had packed up and shipped away somewhere far while Logan left everything behind up North to go find South so he could curl up and die.

Eight years ago, the two bumped in to each other, had an argument over tomatoes, and ended up staying together ever since. They were known in Caldecott as the girl and her guardian. The two never had enough money, but Anna Marie had a home and that sure was good enough.

The friends knew each other very well, so when Anna Marie came running up the path to meet Logan, he had eight years of experience to know something had gone terribly wrong.

Her face was streaked with dirt and tears, but when she finally reached her friend, she did not run into his arms, which surprised Logan—she reeked with fear.

“Marie--” Logan couldn’t stand calling her Anna Marie since he thought it was too long to say. “Marie, what’s goin’ on? You’re a mess…”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. “Ah don’t know…Ah don’t know…” she wiped her tear-streaked face with a dirty hand. “It was an accident…”

Her distressed tone made his heart buckle. “Marie…?”

“Ah just kissed him! And then…” Her eyes were burning like coals. “And den Ah kilt him!”

Logan blinked, confused. “How could you do both?”

“Damned if Ah know!” She was slipping into a conniption fit, and Logan always hated her hysterics. “Something’s wrong with me, Logan. Ah just touch someone an’…an’ they die!” She stopped talking and sobbed for a time. “An’ there’s a mob after me, threatenin’ to lynch me good…”

Mob!” This, Logan understood. He peered down the road and saw the angry crowd just at the end of the road, making its way up their path. Its cries made him suddenly so weak, he wanted to sit down: “Mutant! Freak! Cherry (2)!” Quickly, he motioned for the house, and the two entered without further ado.

“What am Ah gonna do?” Anna Marie asked, not expecting an answer. She sat on the ground, watching as Logan pace the floor worriedly. Abruptly, he turned and took out his luggage case.

“We’re leavin’.” He threw a lamp into the case, making Anna Marie jump to her feet.

“Where?” she asked, watching him toss in some bread.

“North. I have friends there...” He paused, thinking about who exactly were his friends. All of a sudden, he turned to Anna Marie, his face stern. “If we ever get separated (which I highly doubt), keep going North—it’s the safest place for you. Charles Xavier will help you…can you remember that?”

Anna Marie had never seen him so concerned. It turned her soul cold. “Y-yes, Logan. Ah’ll look for a Charles Xavier up North.”

“An’ don’t tell anybody where you’re headin’—got that?” He handed her his dagger, kept faithfully in his boot, although he never had to use it before.

Anna Marie did not have to ask what that was for; she took it without hesitation, with the reply, “Not a soul.” And then there came a knocking on the door, startling both friends inside. Logan immediately grabbed Anna Marie’s bare hand, intending to drag her out the back, completely forgetting about what happened the last time she directly touched someone. The sensation was as if his innards were being sucked clean from his body, and he dropped to the floor, cold as hoarfrost, as soon as Anna Marie was able to pry her hand loose.

The girl fell to screaming over Logan’s lifeless body, and she was still screaming when the mob burst into the room. There was no question about it, after one man stooped to check Logan’s pulse: kaput.

They pulled her still shrieking after them out of the house.

Location Unknown: 1877

Anna Marie awoke, lying face down in the dust. She glanced around, her eyes squinting at the brightness of the sun. The air was dry--dirt gathered around her neck and choked her throat. It was horrible.

"Simply horrible," the girl stated, coughing. Her dress was wrinkled and filled with earth. She shook it the best she could, and when she felt right, stood up. Or at least tried to. She couldn't remember how she got to where she was but it didn't seem familiar.

How ironic. Even in those days, it was ironic. Ironic nobody woke her up. Ironic nobody found her.

Ironic she wasn't killed.

She slowly got to her feet. Her back ached, but that didn't surprise her. One step. Two step. It wasn’t far, but it was progress. She needed to get out, even though she wasn’t quite sure where she was at the moment.

The sun was high, so it must have been about noon when she spotted a lone figure on horseback coming towards her. She almost turned to run if it weren’t for the fact that he was singing to himself in a language she couldn’t quite put her finger on:

Il était une fois une fleur
Elle s'ouvre un peu, beaucoup
Un papillon arrive, il se pose sur la fleur
Hum! que ça sent bon
Le papillon s'envole et il disparait
la fleur se referme, se fane et elle disparait (3)

Anna Marie stopped. She thought about her options: (a) kill the man, (b) steal the horse, or (c) do all of the above. Well, she’d have to do it all quickly, and maybe lift a few silver dollars off his belt while she was at it.

There was no denying it: the man was a city cowboy; she could tell that much from what clothes he was sporting. His wide Stetson hat was drawn low over his eyes, Levi’s jeans belted with silver, Justin’s boots polished and shined. Anna Marie settled her sights on that flashy Colt .45 at his hip and thought of nothing else until he had rode his horse near her.

“‘Scuse me, miss,” he said, trying to get by with a tip of his hat. That was when she caught sight of a star on his chest. A star meant sheriff. Sheriff meant arrest, meaning death if he recognized her as that rogue murderer from Caldecott. It was enough to drive the girl to reach for his gun and shove the pointer into his ribcage.

“If yah knew any better, you’d get down and throw me anythin’ else yah got.” The man apparently did know better for he quietly obeyed, keeping his hands in the air. The city cowboy emptied his pockets filled only with chewing tobacco, snuff, some whiskey, and plenty of playing cards. He was a mighty curious kind of sheriff, Anna Marie had to admit. As she was looking over his collection, the man asked what a girl like her would want to shoot someone like him. The question made her laugh in his face.

“What makes yah think dis bullet’s fer yah?” She put the gun to her head and smirked; without further delay, she promptly pulled the tigger.

And then, nothing happened--even death wouldn’t give her a chance.

“Man Alive! Who in Sam Hill carries a gun without bullets?” she cried, throwing the worthless gun to the ground. The man quietly decided this cherry was mad enough to swallow a horn-toad backwards and was resolved to figure out why.

“Beb, y’ better have a good explanation f’ bein’ such a cussed scalawag ‘round dese parts.” He smoothed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “B’sides, I used all my bullets déjà (already)—dey just wasn’t f’ y’.” He gathered up his belongings as Anna Marie watched, her spirit broken again. There was something about her which bothered the man enough to face her once more.

“Sont vous a perdu?” he finally said. She did not understand, so he translated: “Are y’ lost?” Her eyes betrayed her confusion.

“No…yes…” He shook his head: she sure as hell wasn’t helpful. But he wasn’t one to give up so fast.

“You’re from ‘round here?”

“If we’re in Mississippi, then sure.” She moved a few spaces from him. “Look, Ah didn’t mean to drag yah into all dis, so if yah went on your way…”

“Ga lee,” he hissed, in sudden Mariewas dreading that tone the entire time. “You’re that Rogue Mutant Murderer from the swamps of Mississippi, aren’t y’? You’s pitchers are plastered all over…”

“It wasn’t mah fault, all raht!” She clenched her fist, all in a pucker. “I never asted tah be no mutant!” The man actually frowned at her.

“And what’s wrong w’ bein’ a mutant?” He wanted to know. He took off his hat and Anna Marie could now see clearly red on black eyes where blue or green on white should have been. She looked at the ground then, embarrassed all to pieces.

“Well, don’t dat just beat the Dutch,” she whispered. “Ah didn’t know yah were…one of them.” The man walked around her, those red eyes of his never leaving the girl’s face.

“From the looks of it, y’ are too, Miss Rogue Murderer.”

“Don’t call me dat!” she snapped, her eyes hot coals of fire. The man suddenly chuckled, as if her tone was simply balderdash. “It was an accident.”

“Fine, fine. Rogue then, all right?” He smirked, and even though the girl did not especially like that word, it was safer than telling him her real name.

“I respect dat fahne,” she said, simply. He smiled a smile that showed off all the nice parts of his face.

“Remy LeBeau, an’ don’t y’ forget it,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand to shake. “Louisiana-born, infamous philanderer of de South, an’ sakes alive, I’m mutant t’ de bone.” Anna Marie now called Rogue did not take his outstretched hand. Instead, she pouted and folded her arms across the chest. “Less than friendly, aren’t y’?” he joked, witnessing her withdrawal.

“Where are we, Mister LeBeau?” she asked, ignoring his statement. Red-Eyes pulled out some chewing tobacco and bit into a plug.

“Well, y’ sure made a wrong turn somewhere Miss Rogue; usually when someone like y’ needs t’ hightail outta de States, they’s go West.” He chewed his tobacco thoughtfully. “But y’ plumb missed the Mississippi River completely. All in all, I’d say you’s in Alabama by now. Nothin’ t’ see, but de food’s all right. Whenever I’m in Whistle Stop, I lunch on fried green tomatoes (4)…”

“Man alive, how yah talk!” Anna Marie called Rogue suddenly interrupted. “Look, Ah allow Ah can take it from here. Thanks Mister LeBeau… maybe when Ah’m in Nawlins Ah’ll ring yah up one and we can get together and go over how stupid Ah was with yer gun an’ all… Oh! And Ah reckon Ah’d appreciate it if yah denied ever seein’ dah likes of me anywhere…” She started walking away but immediately stopped when there in the distance came the thundering of hooves. A mob of maybe five men were coming her way. It was enough to send the girl running back to Remy LeBeau, who was spitting out tobacco from his mouth.

“Mister LeBeau!” she cried, pointing at the cloud of dust and dirt which was quickly approaching them. He glanced up, wiped his chops, and actually grinned.

“They’ve found me!” They both said at once. And when they had said it, the two immediately looked at each other and cried, “They’ve found you!”

Red-Eyes tugged at the bandana around his neck. “I wasn’t plannin’ t’ tell y’, but I’m not exactly de most popular bastard in Alabama.” Anna Marie called Rogue could feel her heart stop beating.

“W-What exactly did yah do?”

The man shrugged. “Among other things…I kinda borrowed a horse…an’ never returned it.”

“Yah stole a horse?” The girl was beside herself in shock. "Isn’t dat illegal everywhere?!”

“Shucks, Miss Rogue,” the thief sighed, “when y’ put it that way…”

The mob was now only a few feet from them. Rogue had begun to sweat in her boots, while Remy actually started whistling and petting the stolen horse. Less than five minutes later, the front man of the mob jumped from his steed and defiantly pointed an impudent finger at Mr. LeBeau.

“You, Mister, are under arrest for stealing a man’s horse, potentially stranding another by killing his calico, and knocking over an officer in duty.”

Remy snorted. “Really? I thought I killed dat last one…” Anna Marie called Rogue heard him mutter. “Well, gentlemen, I reckon you’ve accused de right man. But I intend to wake snakes ‘fore y’ haul my ass in.” With that, he pulled out two cards from his front pocket and threw the objects at the mob with sickening accuracy. It seemed whatever he touched, he charged, and whenever he threw, there’d be at least one explosion. The first one knocked Anna Marie called Rogue to the ground, and there she was kept for what seemed like forever.

Remy LeBeau was holding the brutes off pretty well, and he would have continued to raise Jesse if it weren’t for someone calling out: “You better quit dis ruckus, mutant bastard.” Red-Eyes turned and saw that the front man had one arm around Anna Marie called Rogue’s neck while holding a gun to her temple. There was no denying that this gun was fully loaded.“The cherry gets it if yah don’t come with us.”

The thief had no choice; he dropped his arms in defeat. Suddenly, things weren’t looking so good after all.

That was what he thought, before Anna Marie called Rogue managed to find her assailant’s bare wrists and pressed her naked fingers into his skin.

Remy LeBeau had never seen anything like it. The man’s whole body seemed to compress as the girl sucked away the rest of his life before anyone could bat an eye. In less than a minute, the man sunk to the ground, cold as a wagon tire. The scene turned chaotic as the rest of the mob fled after witnessing Rogue’s powers.

The girl shivered as she watched them leave, her dirty hair tangled and hanging limply in her face. No longer could she be Anna Marie, partly because she didn’t feel like homely, innocent Anna Marie anymore. Not after murdering three people before the first one could turn cold. Right now and probably from now on, would she be this Rogue. It’s a good thing Logan’s dead, she grimly reflected, ‘else he’d swan tah heaven fer makin’ me a damned mutant.

The girl turned to the thief, dull as death. “Lahke Ah said, Mister LeBeau, Ah can take it from here.” She moved away, as if pained.

And then, out of the blue, he spoke. “Wait.” She stopped at the sound of his voice and lingered until he joined her side. “I don’t doubt y’ know where you’s goin’. But from the looks of it, y’ ain’t goin’ anywhere if y’ don’t have help.” He shrugged, as if he had never offered anything to anybody before. “I mean, the train station’s far from here an’ I got me a horse…”

She looked at him, incredulously. He explained it was just an offer—take it or leave it—either way, he wouldn’t think any less of her.

Rogue put her bangs behind her ear and blinked, trying to understand what he was saying. “Yah—yah don’t find me objectionable? Ah mean, me being a murderer…”

He stopped her by taking a hold of her shoulder. Rogue didn’t try to wring him off, even though she knew she was putting him in danger. “Rogue, trust me. Out here, dese days…it’s all y’ can have in a body, and b’sides, y’ can’t ask much more from a thief.” She was glancing up at him—he was at least a good head taller than her—and somehow she knew he wasn’t lying. They climbed on the steed as Remy flicked the reins.

They wasted no time getting on that dusty, Alabama road on such a damned sweltering hot day in July.

(1) Rascal Flatts. Yes I Do. Not really as sad as I would want it but the lyrics are pretty accurate—you’ll see a lot from this band—I used them as inspiration to get that Midwest mood. They aren’t half-bad, if you’re not keen on country, like I once was.

(2) Vulgar term for a young woman.

(3) Translation: There was once a flower - (1)
It opens a little, then a lot - (2)
A butterfly comes and rests on the flower - (3)
Mmmm, how nice that smells
The butterfly flies away out of sight - (4)
The flower closes up, withers and disappears- (5)

(It’s a children’s song, but I couldn’t access any other French songs, so I just made do)

(4) Reference to Fannie Flagg’s novel.