Chapter 3
“Ah, Y/N, finally! I was beginning to worry about you!” cries your father, pulling you into a tight hug. “Did that Bill give you trouble? Or were you the one giving him the trouble?” You laugh as your father pulls back, looking you up and down.
“Well, I didn’t give the deputy any trouble, but one of his detainees certainly did. By the time the gentleman was through with him, I think he was far too embarrassed to ask me anything,” you explain. Your father nods appreciatively.
“Good to hear. Ever since becoming deputy, that Bill has gotten far too big for his britches. Now, won’t you help me with some dishes?”
The rest of the night goes quickly. You feel so warm and giddy, and you can’t get the stranger, Octavius, off of your mind. He was even more handsome than you’d imagined close up. He was so intelligent and seemed so kind. You desperately hope he’s alright. Bill isn’t known for being a violent person, but you’d hate for something bad to happen to Octavius what with how worked up Bill was.
As you head upstairs to your bedroom, you’re still thinking about him. About the way he looked at you when you handed him your handkerchief, about the smile he gave you as you left. You hope you’ll see him again.
You undress, then pull on a nightgown. Sitting at a chair in front of your mirror, you slowly take down your tight braids. Then, you carefully brush out your hair, humming softly to yourself.
Then, suddenly, you hear a soft tap at your window. At first, you think you’ve imagined it, but then you hear it again. Even though the moonlight is bright tonight, your curtains are drawn and you can’t quite make out what’s outside your window. You rise slowly to your feet, and quietly walk over to the curtain, pulling it back ever so slightly to peek outside.
And there he is again, the stranger. He’s… on the roof? Spotting you, he gives you a friendly wave and politely removes his hat, giving a little bow. Baffled, you pull back the curtains all the way and slide open the window. He grins at you warmly, that wonderful smile…
“Hello, miss,” he says softly. His voice is bright, almost musical. The moonlight casts his cheeks in cool, white light, and glints off of the metallic arms. “I hope I’m not intruding.” You giggle.
“You most certainly are, showing up on my roof so late at night, but I don’t mind. I was hoping to see you again,” you admit with a blush. He laughs.
“You’re as lovely as the silver moon, my dear, and clever too! I couldn’t get you out of my head, to be honest,” he sighs. “I had to know your name.” He’s looking up at you curiously from the roof below you, his long coat dancing in the wind. You smile warmly down at him, your long hair trailing out the window.
“It’s Y/N,” you laugh. “You’re Octavius, right?”
“My friends call me Otto.”
“I see,” you say, smiling. “Do you count me among your friends?”
“Well, my dear, I’d rather not count you among my enemies. Tell me, why haven’t we spoken before?”
“My father,” you explain with a sigh. “He doesn’t want me talking to any of his patrons.”
“Ah, what a shame. And what about you, Y/N, what is your policy with patrons, unsavory or otherwise?” he inquires, raising an eyebrow.
“I try not to judge anyone by appearances. Besides, there are plenty of kind outlaws, and plenty of unkind lawmen.”
“Y/N?” calls your father suddenly. “Are you alright? I thought I heard something.”
“I’m alright, father,” you reply, turning away from the window. “It’s just a cat on the roof.” You turn back to Otto.
“You should go, before he sees you,” you say regretfully.
“Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow, is it not?” he sighs. “May I see you again, Y/N?”
“I’d like that,” you say bashfully. He slowly reaches up and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, then gently runs a finger across your cheek. Then, there’s a loud knock at your door.
“Y/N? Can I come in?” calls your father.
“Uh, just one second,” you stammer, but when you turn back to the window, Octavius is gone without a trace, almost as if you’d dreamed it all. Your dad barges in, the door crashing open. He sees you at the window and tuts.
“I told you not to let those mangy cats in!” he scolds. You step back from the window, and he stomps up to it, scanning the roof. “Where did it go?”
“You frightened it off,” you explain.
“Good,” he mutters, slamming the window shut with great force. “Now, get some sleep.”