The Maiden and the Reaper

[Two Dollar Jim]

The Bareback Brothel

Anabel fell asleep amidst a crumpled mass of sheets, her bare & volumptuous bottom facing her paramour. Jim lay in bed, wide awake but with no intention of moving. He stared at the ceiling, and could hear the buzzing of a solitary fly in the room. For the longest time he just lay still, his eyes tracking along the room's countours and its pastel trimmings. The fly buzzed high along the ceiling, but in the still of Anabel's slumber, he could hear it's buzzing as sure as a hurricane's gust. He closed his eyes, so sure of his senses that he could draw his pistol and clip it's wings on the go. He stayed his hand out of decorum's sake, and at once opened his eyes again. Once more, the interloper was where he should be found.

A commotion had begun outside, carrying itself into town. The gold panners and chinamen were the first heralds, but soon there was just a general thrum of gossip. The leaded glass windows didn't keep much from filtering through from outside, and Jim heard that Andy and Crawfish had mixed it up. Figuring Crawfish for a heel and Andy for a tramp, it all held a bit of sordid inevitability that they'd cross in a game of blood. Something more noble than himself opted to check on her. If it was obligation, he hid it. His payment to her was in full by delaying the inevitable. The way he calculated, they'd have their blows one way or another. Seems that all he did was let her sober up before the crossed.

He dressed in silence, and when Anabel stirred, he was already buttoning his shirt. She flipped on her back and pursed her lips, with her round breasts contouring her expecting expression. He had half a mind to accept her unspoken invitation again, but he'd allowed himself enough pleasure for a day. Instead, he slapped at the small of her foot and gestured to the nightstand, where ten dollars already sat for her. She shrugged, hoping for more, and stood in the nude, taking a washcloth from a nearby basin to bring her some temporary renewal. Jim watched her bathe, questioning his earlier stoicism, but ultimately abiding in it. The Irish whore looked too much like the past to him, and he couldn't bear to think any more about that.

He pulled his gun belt tight, and then let it fall against his hips. He let his hands fall to his sides, feeling the ivory against his wrists at just the right height. It was as comfortable as breathing air. As he slipped his boots on, he again regarded Anabel, but in the same thought discarded her from his mind. He tipped his hat to the Irish girl, but there wasn't anything at all to say, so he left without a word.

The commotion at the outskirts pulled him in like a siren's call. Jim listened, content to be a nobody until otherwise asked. He listened to where the heart of the matter brought him.

It brought him to Doc Lenard's infirmary, and a Miss Andy McCall.

[Andy McCall]

Left alone in the back room of Doc Lenard's little hospital, Andy had been given a bottle of whiskey courtesy of a small amount of bribery. It dulled what the laudinum hadn't, and she was happier for it. Truss had left hours ago, and Lenard had done his duty, stitching her up expertly amidst a sea of foul curses and the like. He was used to the language though, and went about his duty with quiet patience.

And when he'd finished, he helped Andy into one of the few back rooms he had, letting her rest on a cot until she wished to leave. Which, she'd already made up her mind, would not be till morning. Her original plans to find a companion for the night were very much shot to hell now, thanks to that no good swine Mullins, and if she had to be anywhere with a shot up leg, it might as well be the hospital.

Least she'd not been the one to have to pay for gettin' stiched up. No, that small bit of penance she'd forced upon Crawfish. And now he was Mr. Truss' problem.

Reclining easily on the cot, Andy kept a loose grip on her tin cup half full of whiskey and stared at the ceiling. Doc Lenard had bandaged her thigh with thin gauze after finishing, and she had decided to - once in the room by herself - strip down to her bare minimums and slide in under a wool blanket.

She would sleep heavy at some point, but for now Andy was content to lay back, enjoy her whiskey, and feel as the afterpains in her leg were reduced to a dull throbbing thanks to the alcohol she was drinking. Least she knew that when it came down to the line, she was faring better than Mullins, despite the gunshot wound he'd been so kind to give her.

She thought of Truss again, surprised at both him and herself, and the nature of their discussion hours before. It seemed he'd opened up a door to her, showing that he had more depth in him than simply being the mayor of Justice. Course she'd also told him more 'bout her growing up than she'd told anyone, even if it wasn't much to begin with.

Andy closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth offered by both the blanket and
the whiskey.

So what if she didn't spend the night next to another body. Wasn't the end of the world.

[Two Dollar Jim]

What silly hand had guided Jim to this place? He stood at the door looking a bit out of place. Doc Lenard sensed about as much, but what Jim lacked in bribery, he made up for in earnest conversation.

"I hear you have a Miss McCall boarded up in your infirmary?"

The Doc, a devout Presbytarian, gave a nod.

"I do indeed sir, but she be needin' a bit of shut-eye on account of her condition if you don't mind."

The door moved to close, but Jim's boot was already there. He spoke without an edge to his voice, but the intention was more solid than rock. He wasn't going to change his mind.

"I don't mean to take up her time of rest, Doc. Just ten minutes."

The even timbre of Jim's way of talking disarmed the doctor, and his features softened.

"Five minutes, stranger."

With that, Jim tipped his hat to the Doc, and stepped inside.

[Andy McCall]

She heard voices from outside the room, and could make out Doc Lenard's gravely tone, but the other was too low for her to discern. More'n likely someone just stopping by for a drop or two of medicine. She dismissed the voices, still keeping her eyes closed.

It wasn't until the door to her small room opened that Andy wondered briefly if Truss had come back for some unknown reason.

She cracked an eye open, more than a little surprised to see the face of the man who now stood in the opened doorway. Her tin cup still rested on her chest, nearly empty, and she moved it slightly to the side so that she could sit up and regard Jim curiously.

"Ain't you s'pposed to be chasin' after a one-eared man?"

[Two Dollar Jim]

His features softened, disarmed by a smile she'd put there.

"Had to interrogate Anabel."

Without being lewd, he shrugged, looking out of a nearby window.

"Nothin' left but a cold trail."

He refrained from dwelling on the morose, and studied her features.

"I wasn't gone too long. Funny time for you to catch a bullet."

[Andy McCall]

She made an odd face, and drained the last of her whiskey before setting the cup on the nightstand and going for the bottle itself for a refill.

"I guess that's how things go 'round here."

She motioned for Jim to come the rest of the way in.

"Mullins was just sore that he lost a game of cards. Not anything new, really.

"You got new boots yet?"

Sitting up a little more, Andy was mindful to keep her top half concealed by her blanket as she looked to his feet.

[Two Dollar Jim]

"Ain't found the time yet."

He looked down, forgetting for the moment the sorry state of his boots. He'd come directly from the Bareback to check out the latest big thing in town.

"What sorry state is that buffoon in? I imagine a fair worse one than yours."

[Andy McCall]

"You shoulda picked some up on your way in from the Bareback; Mr. Jane ain't far from here t'all."

She concentrated for a moment on pouring the whiskey, saying nothing really and wondering herself just what exactly Truss was gonna be doin' to Mullins to make 'im quit bothering folks. She guessed that it'd have to be pretty heavy-handed.

Leaning back into the bed, Andy propped herself up on an elbow so that she could look more easily at Jim. Still kinda mystifying that he was here, and she figured he'da already gotten his boots and been on outta town to keep looking for his one-eared man.

"Mullins is sittin' inna cell now, in nothin' but his johns and hat. I ain't sure what's gonna happen to 'im, but the Mayor told me he'd take care of it, so I know somethin' unpleasant is gonna be comin' his way."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim shrugged. That didn't confront him any, and he expected about as much. The nagging thing on his mind was the name Mullins, as in, the Mullins Clan. He had a run-in with them as far south as Carson City, and they were a lot meaner than the dumb ox he'd gotten the drop on.

"Figure you'll be holed up a few days on that leg. Need anything handled while you're on the mend?"

It wasn't exactly a good samaritan offer. Jim needed money.

[Andy McCall]

Preoccupied with taking a sip from the tin cup, Andy stared at Jim from over the rim. She was smart enough to know that his offer wasn't given out of pure generosity.

With a swallow she exhaled thinly through her teeth.

"Ain't sure."

She kept her eyes on him, trying to suss out what he was thinking. It wasn't exactly easy.

"How 'bout you go an' get yorself some new boots so's I got time to think. When yor done, come back an' we can talk more 'bout it."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim nodded, and rose to his feet. From this vantage, he noticed her guarded use of the blanket in his presence, and it allowed for a laugh and a shake of his head. He brought a single finger to the brim of his hat, tipping it almost imperceptibly as he left her company. He paused just before the door, thinking about a premonition of sorts. Shifting his weight on his balding boots, he returned to her bedside.

"Don't find myself to be too paranoid, so lets just say I'll be back in the mornin' for it."

He stooped down, releasing a two shot derringer from the well of his left boot, and pressed the warm bone-handled weapon into her palm. He searched her eyes for a reason to explain why he cared.

[Andy McCall]

Andy wasn't expecting the 'gift', and she stared at the derringer he'd placed in her hand. She frowned a little, the corners of her mouth turning down oh-so-slightly. This sudden generosity didn't fit in with his previous offer of help; no, that was something he wanted money for. She was smart enough to know that. Hell, she was the same way mostly. But putting a derringer in her hand? That wasn't something she'd seen coming, nor the way that he kept his eyes on hers.

Pulling her gaze down to the small two shot she now held, Andy examined it with a keen eye. It was a pretty little thing.

"Yor mind's on revenge," she slid the gun under her pillow and lifted her cup to her lips for another sip. "

"You ain't gotta reason to stay 'round here."

[Two Dollar Jim]

"If I thought revenge was farther up the trail, I'd already be gone."

He reached into his pocket, fingers forming around the contours of an heirloom haromonica, and gripped it tightly.

"I used to hunt deer back in Texas. I saw hunters from Tennessee do the same, and would follow those tell-tale hoofprints for miles. Follow them till the sun was out. I'd look for the creek. The deer can find grass anywhere, but they always come to a handful of spots to drink."

[Andy McCall]

Andy gave a mild hmph at the meaning behind Jim's words. It wasn't out of any sort of derision, just thoughtfulness. If he thought his one-eared man was gonna be here in Justice, then she figured he'd not have to go very far to look.

"Lucky for you then I s'ppose," she murmured, looking over and out the window, "Lotsa waterin' holes in an' round Justice."

Cup in hand, she suddenly pointed a finger at him.

"But don't go killin' yor man in town; not even if'n you see him sittin next to you in the saloon. You do that mess long ways out. The Mayor'll make sure you have a rope 'round yor neck if he finds out what you done."

[Two Dollar Jim]

He smiled at the thought.

"Miss, I died five years ago. I'm using somebody else's time right now. Every day I wake up is a loan I'll have to pay back."

He started to walk off.

"If I have to climb into heaven and cut in line at the gates in order to shoot that bastard's brains all over Saint Peter's robes, that's what it'll be. And when they throw me back into hell, a spade is a spade."

[Andy McCall]

Andy made a face and opted to look back to the window.

"Ain't no point to livin' if you think yor already dead. Don't matter if you say yor on someone else's time."

Another frown, though this one was a good bit deeper than the last. Jim was a macabre sort of fellow the longer he hung about, she found, and it disturbed her calm and her general air of looking for fun. She didn't know his past, but since he was out for vengeance it was pretty easy to figure out the basic gist of his story.

"Yor no good to nobody if'n you act like that, least of all me."

[Two Dollar Jim]

He hadn't expected her to understand, and she didn't. That was all fine and well to him.

"Miss McCall."

He tipped his hat again, and disappeared through the door, back into the sun of midday. With the well more or less poisoned between himself and the lady adventurer, he decided to at least take up her good advice on a pair of boots.

[Andy McCall]

The sun was touching the horizon, and Andy was still awake. She nursed her whiskey quietly, trying to think of something to take her mind off of having been laid up by Mullins. It was enough to make her just a small bit unhappy, and by the time the sun was halfway visible she'd decided to do something about it.

Even if Jim had been more'n a little dark, he'd still offered to help her with anything she needed, and with boredom playing its' cruel game now was as good a time as any to get out of Doc Lenard's hospital. 'Sides; she'd only got shot in the leg, and the Doc had pulled the bullet out an' sewed her up. To her the best thing to do now was to get back on her feet and go on about her business.

Sliding carefully outta the bed, Andy quietly hobbled her way to where she'd draped her clothes, and carefully she dressed. Her gunbelt was buckled around her waist, one of her two holsters still empty sadly. She'd have to go back an' get her revolver at some point.

The derringer she stuffed down the front of her shirt so that it lay nestled in with her cash, and grabbing her almost empty bottle, made as little noise as possible opening the door.

Doc was nowhere to be seen, which was good. He'd probably stop her if'n he had the chance. Odds were good that he'd holed himself up in his side office doin' whatever it was that doctors did. Andy listened for a few minutes, and from what she could tell, no one would be comin' outta anywhere to stop her from escaping.

And escape is exactly what she did. The distance to the small hospital's front door was covered with a swft limp, and Andy slid through the door without making a sound. Course, not before swiping a bottle of laudinum on her way out. It wouldn't do to constantly be in pain, after all.

Next order of business was to find Jim. She'd had enough of bein' serious and having to deal with serious things. Time was coming for cards and more booze, and Andy never let anything come between her and her favorite things. Not even a plugged leg.

A few inquiries sent her in the direction of the Sockeye. Apparently Jim had gone from Mr. Jane's to the saloon, and that suited Andy just fine. Coming up to her more frequented establishment in Justice, she saw her dun mare still standing quietly at the hitching rail. Damn that horse was smart. Didn'a have to even be tethered, she knew her rider well from so many previous visits.

Andy patted the mare's rump as she walked by, then up the short steps.

Without so much as a pause she swaggered in as best as a hobbled gait would allow, holding up just in the doorway to let her eyes scan the rowdy crowds for Jim.

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim wasn't easy to miss. He stood adjacent to the Banker at the Faro table, a stack of cheques anchored down by a tumbler of whiskey that he routinely tended. A couple of characters tended to the edge of the Faro game, as it was seen as an easier ticket and less prone to confidence men as the poker table was. That he was staking himself in Faro was enough to say that he needed an easy win for the moment. Only suckers lost their roll to the Faro banker, and they were easy to spot, off in the corner and slouched at a table, a pickled finger from stirring their whisky and rifling through their last dollar. Men with big dreams and little realism, and once they sobered up they'd either become beggars or Prohibitionists.

Jim laid down his copper as the Banker burned the high card, and his gut feeling was proven right as he'd turned his fortunes off the loser's card. Another exchange of cheques, and his eyes met that wildflower, Andy McCall. He smiled, not figuring that she'd be long in that hospital bed. It was the kind of stupidity that was wise in its way.

[Andy McCall]

And there he was. Andy cracked her own smile as she started for him, but it was an odd sort of expression with mixed meanings behind it. She wove through tables and drunkards, stopping only briefly to drop off her now-empty bottle with the barkeep, and receive a full glass in return.

She downed a quick gulp, coming to stand beside Jim. Looking to the cheques held down by his own glass, Andy gave him a knowing look before fishing a cigarette from her case and sticking it between her lips.

"Guess those mean that you're not lookin' to make money from me then."