a/n: This is an answer fic inspired by Lisa's very intriguing story "We Gave It a Try".
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson, "In Memoriam A.H.H.," Canto 27
Jimmy sat with his hat pulled down low over his eyes, against the bunkhouse wall. Looking up from underneath it, he saw Lou approaching slowly. He stifled an irritated sigh.
He didn't know what she wanted from him, but the looks she had been sending him ever since they had kissed by the fireside were getting too frequent. He couldn't keep pretending not to notice them, much as he wanted things to go back to how they had been before. No, he thought. She's not going to let it go, I'll just have to let her down easy as possible.
"Jimmy?"
"Yeah, Lou?" he said, wearily.
She looked shyly at him. "I was wondering if we could talk about what happened between us on the way to Elias' hanging."
Here we go, he thought. He looked up at her standing there awkwardly and had to pity her. But she was reading way too much into an impulsive kiss they had shared when he was feeling pretty low about himself. Frankly, if any halfway attractive woman had kissed him at that moment he would have kissed back. But she was just a friend, nothing more to him.
He had been through this with her the morning after that stupid kiss. It wasn't anything they needed to talk about, it wasn't going to happen again. Why did she have to dredge it up?
"Lou, I told you after that we weren't acting like ourselves. Can't we just chalk it up as one of those things, forget it happened? Please?"
She showed signs of tearing up. And people say I'm fickle in love, he thought irritably. She had been in love with Kid, going to bed with him a couple of short months ago, then as quickly out of love with him. Then she practically threw herself at me, the second he was out of the way for five minutes; and now she won't just let the damn thing go.
"I just thought maybe there could be something between us, Jimmy. There've been a few times I thought you seemed to be feeling something toward me more than friendship, and when we kissed, I thought maybe I was right."
He had to admire her forthrightness, so different from most women who played silly games, but it didn't change anything. "You mean when I took you out after you and Kid broke up? I was just trying to cheer you up as a friend, that's all, Lou. You're like a little sister to me, I'll always care about you, but I don't think of you that way."
He saw her flinch. "A sister?" she said hoarsely.
Softening his tone out of pity, he answered, "That's all, Lou."
Her eyes darted around, embarrassed. "Okay, then. We won't talk about it again. You won't tell anybody about it, will you? It's hard enough having a past with Kid to deal with in the bunkhouse. I don't need the boys knowing I kissed you when you didn't even want it."
"I won't kiss and tell, Lou. You didn't do anything wrong, I'm the one who took it too far," he admitted. "I was feeling down and you were, well, handy. I'm sorry if I misled you."
She nodded and trudged off, shoulders slumped. He watched her go. It must be hard for her, he thought. The only eligible men who know what she is are in that bunkhouse. It's probably natural she'd develop feelings for one or another of us, it isn't like she has many options with her disguise and all. She probably was just confused by their kiss, not really feeling anything for him.
Jimmy suddenly shook his head, trying to clear it of the impulse to call after her, so similar to the urge that made him grab her and kiss her back the other day.
Okay, he thought. Maybe there is some attraction there. But that ain't worth wrecking the friendship I have with her, with Kid, when likely as not it won't last. And we all have to work together in that bunkhouse. I won't be under a magnifying glass with her like she was when she was with Kid.
He stood up, uncertainly, watching her little form go off aimlessly toward the barn. She was right, there were times he had noticed her, felt something, he wasn't sure what, for her. But he wasn't sure enough of what it was to risk letting his guard down and exploring it. He'd been hurt in love too many times, been wrong about too many women. All right, he admitted to himself. I'm gun shy when it comes to women now . . . I'm afraid. Wild Bill Hickok is afraid of a little slip of a gal like that, of what the fellas will say or do, of getting hurt again.
She was riding away now, downcast, and Jimmy looked down at his feet, then after her in the distance. Somehow, he knew he'd live to regret not finding what might have been, if we had tried.