Red Moon In the West (Shiva the Cat/Vinaein)

[Vinaein]

@Shiva the Cat

The mournful howl that drifted over the mountainside set Adam Talbot's teeth on edge and his hand reaching for the cold iron of the colt 45 at his side. The dark horse that rested near to the campfire gave a snort as if mocking the lone wanderer about his caution, bringing a roll to Adam's eyes, his hand relaxing as he removed it from his side, instead dusting it off against his trousers. He had been a man on the road for numerous days now and rather looked the part, the dust of the trail having practically seeped into his coat so that the blue had been replaced by gray. One fellow on the road had almost mistaken him for a former Confederate still in uniform from a distance, which had not amused Adam given the actual origins of the uniform.

Damned if that hadn't well near inspired him to start with a good old 'Yankee' song on the trail, though, if he wasn't worried about his quarry's keen ears picking up the music. At the very least the dirt would disguise the most vital indicator of himself so that their keen noses wouldn't notice much. But who was Adam trying to fool? He'd been at this hunt for years now, taking the minor bounties along the way so he had money to go on. People romanticized the West in places like New York and Connecticut, but it was all the same when you got out here: nothing but limitless stretches of empty territory.

For all those who believed they could 'rough' it down among the sticks and dirt, you had dozens of souls who were unprepared for it all and banded together in homesteads or towns to forge a new civilization without heed for who might well have been living there before. Adam detested some of those centers of so-called civilization, but it was necessary for survival at times. But for that, you needed money, skills or trades and while he was in possession of several of those, it was rarely in at the same time.

Every town he arrived at, he studied those wanted posters closely. Every bastion of civilization he lay his head at, he made sure to see who was desired by the law and why. He had apprehended Freddy Eagles at the last town, Dermott O'Grady at another. But in every poster he saw, he did not see the faces of those he truly sought. Nothing yet for Frank Glanton, for "Judge" Holden, for Marcus Hawk or the rest...

But he had seen the telltale signs, every so often, when he passed a homestead picked clean of valuables and life, like a great beast whose bones lay to bleach in the desert suns once they had been picked clean by scavengers. Perhaps that was the reason for his lack of success in all this; there was none to tell the story, not to deliver their likeness so that wanted posters could be drawn up. Dead men told no tales and the warrants could not be issued without evidence.

And as for him? Adam would look the madman if he told half of what he knew. Amidst the attempts to tame the west, to steal the land from its original inhabitants and to drive them to nothingness, industry was catching up on the settlers. Soon there might be nothing for men like Frank Glanton to hold on to, with the last wild vestiges of their hunting grands erased by men like Brandon Price, whose visage decorated the side of many buildings.

After all, what represented civilization and progress of industry more than the railroad? With its attempts to connect a country defined by distance as well as people. Adam could not help but scoff to himself quietly, checking his twin Colts on sheer instinct. Six shots in one, six shots in the other, special bullets for just such an occasion. Each branded with a name, each bearing the memory he carried from his heart: Trevor Corrigan, Michael Hartigan and all the rest; good men, men of the pack, men whom he had buried after Frank and the others sold their souls with the lives of their friends as collateral.

Mightn't be too far off a town now, he thought as he finished the last bites of rabbit stew. "Y'know," he said, the first words he had spoken perhaps in days, "I were hungry enough, you'd be in trouble." His horse, a lumbering brute by the name of Augustus, snorted again as if telling him the joke wasn't funny. Adam chuckled, his blue eyes softening as he pat the beast's head. "Apple when we get to town with your oats. My treat for being such a fine sport," he added with a laugh brimming in his chest.

Snap. The sound of a twig. Adam's eyes narrowed, his head darting upward, nose working as he attempted to gain a scent. "Wait here," he slipped a Colt into his hand and stalked away, quietly while making his presence. his lean figure moved stealthily, handsome features shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. Something was around the corner, moving, moving...he snapped out, lunging with the gun and stared into golden eyes...

The coyote stared back at him, several of its fellows behind it. It looked to him with golden eyes, not afraid but not intending a challenge. Adam couldn't help but grin, relaxing his guard and sliding his pistol back into its holster. He looked at the coyote, eye to eye, one predator to another. He nodded in respect. "Fine hunting," he offered, taking a step forward. The Coyotes stared back, turning to retreat across into the desert, recognizing there would be so prey to find here.

He enjoyed a moment there, watching them go, underneath the stars while he left Augustus to his rest...not bad to take a moment away from the fire, in the night breeze to simply relax...after all, what was the worst that might happen?

 

[Shiva the Cat]

A single beam of moonlight pierced through the leafy ceiling of the mesquite thicket, illuminating the sparkling crystal cover of a silver pocket watch before reflecting on the closed eye of the fugitive slumped against the tree trunk. The light was enough to pierce the sleeper's shallow dreams and both eyes snapped open at the same time as a broken-nailed thumb flicked open the cover to reveal the time. 11:16. We've certainly missed the boat now, haven't we Pa?

Rosemary was tempted to let out a groan as sensation seeped back into her cramped limbs, but she could hardly forget her flight of the past five days, nor could she forget the faces of those pursuing here. In another life, maybe she and Pa would have made that boat to San Francisco, and they'd be playing cards and drinking champagne with the cream of Texas society (and hopefully refilling their skinny pockets in the process). But as far as she could tell she was at least a thousand miles from the docks in Galveston, and she was sure she was at least a hundred away from the nearest railroad station. Not for the first time since that fateful encounter outside of St. Joseph, she found herself wishing Ma and Pa had taught her a little bit more about navigation, and less about French and the violin.

Until five days ago though, Rosemary had never really needed to know where she was going. That was all Pa, whether they were tracing down the lasted whispered rumors about her mother's location, or where they could find a poker table with the richest players. In nine years the wily old fox had never left his daughter's side, nor she his. But now Henry Davison was buried in a tiny churchyard in St. Joseph, Texas; a place that, as far as Rosemary knew, he'd never stepped foot in until the day he was gunned down in the street like a dog. Then he'd begged his daughter to take the horse they'd spent their last few dollars on and run, get out of here Rosie, don't look back--

She hadn't, but she didn't get far enough to avoid hearing the the thunderous roar of gunshots that shattered her father's body. Even now she could still hear them in quiet moments like this, beneath the whisper of the wind in the trees and the mournful hours of the coyotes farther out in the desert. Shutting the watch, Rosemary held it up to her ear, the steady sound of the ticking eventually soothing away the memory of the horrors.

In a way, she was lucky the hunters had stayed behind to empty their guns into the old gambler. It had allowed her enough time to get across the river and bunk down for the night, and when she returned to the scene of the crime the next day she was at least pleased to see the local sheriff had arranged for Henry to have a Christian burial. Rosemary had been spared the sight of her father's body, but the sheriff was sorry to say that his money, wedding ring, and even his boots had all been taken by the notorious gang of outlaws. She hadn't been shocked at that, and while she mourned the loss of the money and his ring, she could at least take comfort in knowing her father had pressed two treasures into her hands before she'd ridden off: the family pocket watch, and his LeMat revolver.

Now Rosemary tucked the former into her blouse, before checking the former was still in good condition. Only seven shots left; she'd spent two taking down rabbits after her food had run out, and while she was hesitant to use any more until she could replenish her ammunition, her growling stomach was of another opinion. At least she had plenty of water in the meantime, since she'd been careful to keep close to the stream she'd found the day before. She had no idea if it was headed anywhere near the railroad, but she certainly couldn't turn back now; not with the hunters on her trail and her horse dead of a rattlesnake bite.

If by some miracle the young woman did make it to a railroad station, there was still going to be the question of buying a ticket. Well, maybe if she was lucky there would be a dance hall in town that didn't mind unaccompanied ladies at their card tables. If they did mind, well...at least Rosemary had her mother's classic beauty and some musical talent.

Rosemary Davison, you know damn well your mother would wring your neck if she saw you dancing in your knickers in a place like that she could practically hear her father's scold, but the words of a dead man were of her least concern at the moment. Besides, for all she knew her mother was just as dead as Pa was, and those rumors about San Francisco were nothing more than gambling room chatter.

After drinking enough water to quiet her stomach, she was about to roll over and try to go back to sleep when another light broke through the thicket: not the silvery light of the moon overhead, but the flickering red light of a campfire some forty or fifty yards off. The woman's stomach clenched as she instinctively reached for the revolver, convinced the men that had been chasing her had finally caught their prey. But the night was eerily silent, and every other time the hunters had gotten close she'd heard them from what seemed like miles away, their gruff voices shouting at one another or making bawdy jokes over the sound of their horses' hooves.

That was something else Rosemary noticed as she crept through the brush on her stomach to get a better look: there was only one horse she could see silhouetted against the flames, a handsome black beast with no rider in sight. Of course, unless horses in this part of the world were capable of starting and managing fires on their own, the woman was sure his master had probably stepped away only temporarily and could be back any second. Could she be fast enough?

Very slowly, the fugitive rose to her feet, the wide brim of her hat rustling softly against the mesquite boughs overhead. She smoothed down the serape she'd bought in St. Joseph with her last few coins, and wiggled feeling back into the toes of her boots. Thankful that Pa hadn't insisted she wear skirts outside of social events, her trousered legs carried her swiftly to the shadowy border of the firelight as she kept her gun in one hand and held her canteen against her side with the other, cautious not to let its clatter give away her location.

The horse sniffed and snorted at her approach, not seeing her just yet, but clearly hearing the woman, if not picking up her scent on the night breeze. Rosemary winced a little, realizing after more than a week without a bath or a wash she probably smelled disgusting, but probably not any worse than the horse's actual owner, if he was this far out in the middle of nowhere. Holstering her gun, the woman held up both hands before the horse, whispering soft platitudes under her breath as she approached.

"Hi there, mon ami...how are you, pretty boy?" she murmured in a curiously accent-less voice as she stepped closer. After a few investigatory sniffs, the horse let her stroke his neck with one hand while she felt for his saddle on the other. Thankful to see it still in place, Rosemary gracefully mounted the horse, but as soon as she felt for the reins she felt them caught on something nearby, and immediately became aware of a grim face staring at her over the campfire.

Caught red-handed. You need to be faster. When teaching her how to play cards at a child, Henry had smacked his daughter's hands every time they hadn't moved quickly enough for his taste, and Rosemary could practically feel the sting on them now as she stared back at the horse's owner, a handsome man with piercing blue eyes and a gun on his hip.

Swallowing hard, the woman summoned an actress' giggle up from her throat and tried her best to make her whiskey-colored eyes dance merrily in the firelight. "Why, good evening sir!" she greeted in a voice that was far too cheerful for the occasion. "Say, is this your horse? I just saw him tied up out here all alone, and I thought he might need some, ah, company." Rosemary blinked a few times but didn't let her smile fade as she continued on.

"He really is a very fine animal. I don't suppose..." Very slowly, her right hand began to slide beneath her serape to where the LeMat was holstered. "You'd be willing to lend him to a lady in need?" Her finger brushed the trigger as she heard Pa's voice whispering in her mind. Be faster.

 

[Vinaein]

It was not without some measure of reticence that Adam Talbot remained under the night sky, with the stars as his only witness. Perhaps that was not entirely true, however; people considered the plains and the deserts lifeless, devoid of existence. After so long in his nomadic existence, Adam knew better than that. The desert lived. The plains practically breathed with the intensity of vitality all around him. His father had told him their people had once hailed from far to the east, across the seas before crossing the oceans in search of what so many had overturned rock after rock in American for:

Opportunity. For they had been people of the woods, spoken of in the hushed whispers of nightmare and legend. Not without reason were they feared, for many an army, his father had said, had fallen in the forests of the People, as they titled themselves. Their bones were left to litter the forest floors, picked and stripped clean of flesh and nutrient. From Germany to Russia had they dwelt, until modernization had taken their forests and driven them from myth into near extinction.

The creatures of legend had thrived in the ignorance of humanity. The People had faded, lost contact with one another save for pockets of families and ancient clans who remained closer than blood in their makeshift packs. The sanguine lords of the evening had been overthrown, burnt to ash in the daylight. The People spoke of the ancient ways and the beings who prowled the hungry wilderness that was now threatened with starvation and to grow anemic in the days of industry.

But the people had prospered, no less close than the packs of coyotes and wolves. No less real than the squeaking little rodents that traced themselves near to his feet. The reptiles hunted for insects, a buzzing wasp searching for a tarantula nearby upon which to lay a cluster of young that might feast upon their unwilling and unknowing host to propagate a new generation.

Was that not the perfect metaphor for America? This so-called land of opportunity that took and took without offering back even the crumbs in turn if you came to it empty handed. They called the People predators? Those superstitious folk of the past should try setting foot in a New York bank before they dared to claim such things. Adam almost laughed at the notion of that humor.

God, when it had all been so simple; he was what they might term a third-generation American. Their parents' parents had crossed the ocean on great ships to find new homes and new chances for their children. They had integrated, as good immigrants must, keeping their traditions until the war; oh, they had fought bravely for their cause and the country.

They had made their way out rest to seek....what? Gold? Glory? There had been little of either, or so he had thought until Frank and the others had turned on them. More fool them to have taken this nation lightly, Adam thought. These hills and stones were as ancient as the eldest counterparts in Europe. Oh, they were home to ancient things as well. Things that had slept beneath long before the first footfalls of man upon these shores. They were still there and still hungry.

But there were all types of hungers. Adam's blood sang at the silvery strands of moonlight above, a deep longing to divest himself of garments and to race along the coyotes to hunt among brothers kindled in his heart and he could not stare at the beauty of the moon without wishing to issue forth a paean to its magnificence. All alone amidst the vast expanse of the frontier, he could almost forget what he searched and sought.

He could forget vengeance, he could forget justice. He could forget all but the moon and its beauty. He could forget all but himself, with only dear Augustus for-

He paused, sniffing the air. Once, twice, thrice. His body stiffened. That, he thought, did not smell like horse. In fact, it smelled very specifically like a human. Close to his camp. And his horse.

Okay, you could try to rob him. That was entirely fair, nobody would blame someone for trying to take some coins in such a difficult life (well, maybe a little bit of a blame could be assigned). Food? Immaterial (even if someone could do their own hunting). But nobody, nobody on this earth, in hell or in heaven alike, messed with his horse.

Yeah, there might be what folks around these parts called a fucking reckoning. Adam took a moment to compose himself. He counted to ten, held a deep breath and released it. Then he began to creep stealthily back towards the fire. He didn't exactly expect much by way of resistance for this. Some ragtag bandit might be armed, but not prepared for one such as him.

For all you know, it's someone desperate. On the other hand, it could be another bounty. Might well be an excuse to roll into town quicker. Might even buy ya a room and a bath for the evening. He would literally kill for a hot bath at the moment, rubbing as the light stubble on his chin. Could go for a good shave, too.

He sniffed the air, detecting his quarry as he drew closer to his most unwelcome interloper. The scent was thick; he was clearly approaching someone who hadn't seen the right side of a bath herself in some days (not that he had any room to talk at the moment, unless you counted a dust bath like he was a wriggly little chinchilla.)

His keen ears could detect the word: "Hi there, mon ami...how are you, pretty boy?"

My horse is not your bloody friend and he's not a 'pretty boy.' All that trouble to get Augustus to appear like a fearsome steed, the type a bounty hunter should possess and that image was being torn down in favor of...by the fanged gates of hell, that horse was going to haveimage issues when this was done.

Wait, was that traitor letting this person- a woman, he realized from voice, scent and sight -on his back? Was he going to run off and leave Adam behind? Oh, forget the damn apple, this horse was a positive turncoat if ever Adam had seen one!

He lunged from the darkness, foregoing the savagery he could have brought to bear on her. Instead, his hands shot out to seize the reins, his expression one completely lacking in all humor.

If he believed she had any positive intentions, the attempt at cheeriness within her voice completely put paid to that notion. "Say, is this your horse? I just saw him tied up out here all alone, and I thought he might need some, ah, company."

Oh, Adam was ever so sure. He first glowered daggers at Augustus, who at least had the presence of mind to snort and attempt a guilty look if Adam could read a horse. No mean feat that. She was still talking, but her hand was moving and he had a feeling it wasn't towards anything good.

But Adam was in no mood for violence tonight. He looked her in the eye, seeing a lovely, if rough face, with long red hair. "...You really gonna try to shoot me?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Over an ungrateful lump like the one you're sitting on, Miss?" He gave a chuckle he hoped was friendly. "Look, I'd let you take the traitor there, but he's my only ride into town. How about you pull a seat by the fire and tell me just what the hell this is all about?"

Lady in need she'd said. Well, at least one couldn't say tonight was boring.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Faces were flashing before Rosemary's eyes, trying to match the one in the firelight to those that had haunted her for the past few weeks. She'd gotten a few glimpses of the hunters here and there before they ultimately gunned down Pa; had she known their intentions she would have committed the features more to her memory. There was a little scrawny one, she remembered that, and a fat one with a shiny face. Towering over them all had been a grizzly bearded giant who'd had what looked like blood caked in his whiskers as he stood over Henry Davison's body. That one might have been the leader, but Rosemary seemed to recall they'd all called the fourth one "Boss"; he'd had unnerving yellow eyes, and a scar across his nose.

None of them were the man standing in front of her now, which did allow her to relax just a little, but just because the stranger wasn't hunting her in particular didn't mean he wasn't another kind of danger. His hand, for one, had moved quick as any card sharp, and while he hadn't yet pulled his gun on her, he probably wouldn't need to take much time to do it if he was of a mind.

Rosemary swallowed hard, but kept up the smile. Never break character--those were Ma's words, and if the fugitive wanted to hear any more of them, she'd need to play her hand carefully.

"If it's all the same to you, Mister, I think I'd prefer to stay right where I am," she remarked, casual as if he'd offered her a choice seat in any eastern sitting room. "I've found there's a shortage of gentlemen in this part of the world, and seeing as how I don't know you from Adam I think it would be in my best interest if you kept a respectful distance between us." Pausing, the woman pulled both hands out from beneath her serape, letting the stranger get a good look at her empty palms and short, broken nails before she laid them lightly on her thighs.

"If it's any comfort to you, I'll keep my hands where you can see them. I'm a terrible shot anyway," she added with a giggle. "Just as likely to end up shooting myself as anything else, you hardly have anything to worry about from just a little slip of a girl like myself."

There wasn't a word of truth in that last sentence; Henry had taught his daughter how to handle firearms from the age of fourteen, and now ten years later, it was rather audacious for Rosemary to consider herself a 'girl'.

"May I ask what your name is, Sir, and your business?" the woman continued, shifting a little in the saddle. The horse beneath her didn't seem much more comfortable with the situation, being forced to bear a rider without the expected departure, but other than a grumpy little snort he didn't protest further. Looking over the stranger's head, she tried to make out the sight of any other beasts that might be nearby; was he possibly a cowboy, transporting livestock for some rich rancher? No, he was utterly alone, aside from the horse. Rosemary's eyes narrowed just a little. An outlaw then, maybe even a horse thief himself. The man did have a roguish look about him, though not an unattractive one.

Her speculations might have continued indefinitely if her stomach hadn't chosen a particular moment of silence between conversations to gurgle loudly, reminding Rosemary that she had still failed to obtain any real substance of nourishment in at least a day. The hollow cheeks went pale beneath their thin layer of dust and dirt, and her laugh now had an air of hollowness about it. "You'll have to forgive me, it's been a while since I've had a decent meal. I...I don't suppose you have any rations to spare?" She tried not to sound too hopeful. "I can't pay you anything, unfortunately, but I could probably get off your horse, if that would help matters."

The faintness threatening to overwhelm her would probably have prevented her from getting very far anyway, if she even knew which way to go. After a moment's hesitation, Rosemary released the reins. Then swinging one leg gracefully over the horse's back, she slid down to the ground, stumbling a little as her boot caught a rock in the dirt. Still she recovered her balance in time to keep from toppling over entirely, and when she looked back up in the man's face there was a flash of pride in her eyes, even if sheepishness had finally wilted her smile.

"I really hope you are a gentleman," she muttered. "Otherwise I think I am royally fucked, aren't I?"

 

[Vinaein]

To say that Adam Talbot had not exactly expected his night to have turned in such a direction was something of a rather compelling understatement. Granted in this country, one had to be careful.

The West was quite the unpredictable region, a place where death could occur at any moment. One could find themselves stranded in the desert with their water lost. One could find themselves in the most extreme of frozen temperatures, caught in a sudden blizzard as their flesh and blood chilled within the frigid winds. One could be bitten by a snake, pounced upon by an angry cougar. One could slip at the wrong place, eat the wrong berries, or in the present case suddenly confronted by an individual at their campfire who was trying to steal their horse.

But Adam was in no mood to kill without reason and the scent he received from this woman with her red hair and the slight sense of desperation about her was an oddly comforting one. Still, he did not yet remove his hands from Augustus's reins, the horse having at least the good graces to stand there looking awkward and guilty.

The smile she wore was a false one, he could tell. She bore the distinctive sense of a skilled thief caught in the act but one who refused to allow for any hint of weakness. She was, he could tell, someone who looked at the world and saw angles. Things she could exploit, ways out, exit strategies. When a plan failed, people like this simply invented new ones on the spot. He could, he decided, absolutely respect that.

More than he could respect his bloody treacherous horse anyways. Okay, maybe Augustus might still get an apple, but he could forget the sugar cubes. The woman's tone was light and gentle, but she made clear that she did not trust him. It was with relief that he saw the empty palms emerge, neither bear the hint of any iron. He waited until she had asked his name and business

"First off, you might be a terrible shot," he remarked with a wave of a finger. "In fact, I wouldn't hold it against you. Fact is, though, at this range?" He threw her a grin, the friendliest he could imagine. "I doubt you could miss me, and as much as I'd prefer you did if it came to it, I don't fancy my chances. Secondly, I'm afraid you do know me from Adam, on account of that's my actual name from birth until present day." So he'd had a few aliases here and there, who didn't?

"My business is, I'm afraid, a disreputable one, depending on who you ask. In a word, you see the fellas on wanted posters? I find 'em, tie 'em up or shoot 'em and hoist 'em in, get paid for it and continue on the merry way with the ingrate you're currently sitting on." He took a step back from the horse, hoping to appear more disarming at the moment, giving a heavy sigh. "The other business is a personal one, but that doesn't need to come up at the very first chat, I envision. Seeing as we're on our first meeting and my first impression is trying to swipe my horse and all."

Not that he could really hold it against her. Something must be eating at her inside to even attempt this. And here he was, practically pouring out his life story. It was a strange, tense standoff, broken by the growl from her stomach that seemed more ferocious than any coyote out on the plains.

She laughed. Hell, so did he. It was like a hard knife lancing through the thick tension. His grin showed plain on his face, earnest and pleasant as he shrugged his shoulders. One thing he could understand was hunger, all too well. Well, damned if he'd let a pretty lady with good acting skills, a quick hand and some damn earnest guts on her starve in his campfire, he thought. He really, really hoped she didn't try to shoot him when he let his guard down, for her sake as much as his own.

The fierce look of pride in her eyes, though? Reminded him of a wolf. It brought an approving burst from within his mind as his smile grew all the more genuine. "Been accused of a lot of things sometimes. Being a gentleman ain't always one of them. But I ain't the man to let a lady go hungry. I don't got much, but what I do have you're welcome to."

He flicked his thumb over his shoulder to the meager pot of stew near the fire. "Got some biscuits and jerky, waterskin as well. Was planning on getting into town and picking up some supplies. Now, what say we get by the fire, you get some food in ya to quiet the mangy beast apparently living in your stomach...and you tell me what all this's about."

Who knew? She might know someone who was wanted. Something occurred to him as he led the way to the fire, Augustus following them, sticking rather close to the woman with an affectionate snort that made Adam's lips positively thin.

"First off, I suppose. You got a name I can call ya?"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"So you're a bounty hunter, huh, Adam? Eve's at home nursing Cain and Abel, I take it?" The doubt dripped off the tip of her tongue, but Rosemary supposed she couldn't fault the man for using a fake name. She and Pa had been known to adopt them at certain tables where 'Davison' was no longer welcome, and at least she could take comfort in knowing none of them had ever ended up on a wanted poster. Then again, it wasn't as if the Davisons had ever actually been caught in any of their less-than-legal dealings. Until St. Joseph, at least.

Setting her shoulders back, the woman strode over towards the fire, eying the vittles with a discerning gaze that would have been better suited for the dining room of the Peabody Hotel. Her stomach, growling again, was less particular, and eventually she helped herself to a few of the biscuits heaped in a cloth on the makeshift table. They were hardly fresh baked, but they did quiet her gut long enough to let her hear Adam asking her name.

"Rosemary," the woman answered simply, helping herself to another. "People who like me call me Rosie, though," she added with a wink, hoping Adam wouldn't begrudge her the rest of his supper. "As for what I'm doing out here, I'm...I'm...well, I'm just trying to get to the nearest railroad station. I have business in San Francisco."

That was the truth, at least. She wasn't quite sure Adam needed to know all the rest yet, and besides, what real information did she have about the men who'd been chasing her? Their faces were still burned in her mind, but the names were uncertain, and she couldn't even be sure why exactly they'd come after her and Pa in the first place. The little one had been at the tables back on the Creole Queen a few weeks back near Keokuk, and when he'd followed them ashore Rosie had accused her father of cheating him the same way he'd cheated so many others. Men with empty pockets often took their bad moods out on the man responsible for them.

But no, Pa had been insistent the rat and his friends were after something else, though he had refused to tell her exactly what. There had been other hunters like that in the past, especially after the war. Men usually, but there had been some frighteningly beautiful women as well, asking very specific questions not just about Henry and Rosemary Davison, but Henry's parents back in New York. Even questions about Rosemary's maternal grandmother, an ancient blind woman with a croaking voice and dressed in all black, whom she'd only met once and was supposedly descended from a Salem witch. Some of the strangers hadn't spoken English, although her father always seemed to know what they were after.

She might have hoped that with Pa's death that might have been the end of the mens' chase, but whatever it was they wanted hadn't gone with Henry in St. Joseph. But at least if she had a man like Adam with her--a bounty hunter, no less--maybe that would finally be enough to scare the bastards off.

"Are you hunting anyone way out here?" Rosemary continued as she took a bit of the offered jerky. "I did have a bit of trouble with an ugly looking bunch back near the border. Wouldn't surprise me if there was a price on any of their heads." She tried to keep her tone light and conversational. Never show them your fear Pa had advised, even if you ain't afraid of them. Rosie had decided that Adam wasn't someone to be afraid of, not at the moment at least, but it would probably still be better if he thought her the sort of woman who wasn't about to be shaken by a gang of troublemakers.

Her hunger finally sated, the woman let out a little sigh and slid backwards until her back was resting against a large boulder, still warm from the sun of the day. She took her hat off and ran her fingers through her bronze-colored hair, wincing she caught the little knots the wind had tied and longing for a bath in some hotel someplace. "If you're not too busy, Mr. Adam," Rosemary said slowly, dark eyes staring sweetly up at him through her lashes. "I wonder if I might trouble you to accompany me to the nearest town? As a favor, unfortunately, since I'm a little light on funds at the moment. But I would take it as a token of chivalry, from one honorable man to a poor, distressed lady in need..."

If she were really lucky she might even be able to convince Adam to deliver her directly to the train station; maybe even buy her a ticket if he could afford one. That would certainly put some distance between herself and the pursuers. But even if he could only get her to a settlement in one piece, surely there would be some card game or another she could join. Or if there was a saloon, she wasn't above doing a bit of "burly q" as her mother had so tactfully called it.

But don't you go lying with a man for money, Rosemary True Davison. No daughter of mine is going to be called a whore. Mother did have standards.

Then again, looking over Adam's tall figure in the firelight, she supposed if circumstances required she could always trade them for a ride into town. It wasn't cash, after all.

 

[Vinaein]

Adam resisted the urge to give a howling laugh. The playful grin on his face lingered; it had to be said, one usually didn't get a chance to make a good old fashioned biblical joke. Not that the People believed in the same god as 'good Christian folk' in the west or east. Though some of them held a deep contempt for any hint of that religion. Of course, Frank Glanton had virulent contempt for most living things that didn't belong to their kind. Hell, he had more contempt for any of their kind that failed to adhere to his standards.

"Mightn't be up to date," he said as he sauntered to the fire with her. He was no longer worried she might abscond with Augustus (damn that treacherous horse who deserved to be turned into stew now and was lucky that Adam was a soft hearted man deep down). The worst she could do was shoot him and that would not be very dangerous. Oh, surely, it would be painful and inconvenient but not altogether dangerous unless she made his brains decorate the rocks.

He made himself as relaxed as possible. "Eve's old news. Always did prefer Lilith." She even smelled hungry, her stomach growling loudly again as he passed over the supplies. Hell, he needed a way to get rid of the damn biscuits. It wasn't like they couldn't eat bread products, but it was never his first choice. If she was going to be kind enough to revere her role of horse thief to take for herself the role of food disposal, so much the better.

Rosie was being more evasive than a particularly spooked cougar. Fair, he supposed; one didn't often trust men they just met in the midst of the desert even if they initiated contact by trying to swipe a horse. San Francisco, railroads...now what kind of business would that be? Probably not, he supposed, any sort of legitimate work that could be performed above a table in a fancy office. Otherwise she wouldn't be trying to rob a man of his horse in the desert.

"Well, then, Rosie," he said as he made sure she got a generous helping of stew. "You gonna tell me what kinda business you got? Don't suppose it's business I might find myself involved in every so often? Business that involves fellas you might see on a poster that reads 'Dead or Alive' with fancy numbers 'neath 'em?"

He could just smell (quite literally) that she was hiding something. Scents of human beings tended to betray quite a bit they never intended to: lies, deceptions, even holding something back. Definitely not business most folks would consider on the proverbial up and up- but who was he to deliver judgment? He simply watched her enjoy the food, his own stomach food and full. His mind had drifted towards a pack of traitorous killers whose trails he was hoping to find. "I hate to be disappointing you, but only thing I was hunting earlier crawls on four legs. Bit remote for anyone but the coyotes ad gilas to be putting out wanted posters." Adam folded his hands upon his lap. "Though I was planning to make my way to town and see what the hunting was like around those parts. The mention of an 'ugly gang' drew his appraising stare, a light tilt of his eyebrow the only sign of his interest in her attempt at roping him into her problems.

His own hat was placed to the side, a gentle night's breeze rustling through his hair as his eyes closed. It wasn't like he was busy, after all, certainly not enough to turn her away. But first... "Gonna assume this trouble is more than rustling away your cattle or swiping away your horse," his voice turned low, a professional glint in his eyes. "Now look, Rosie, distressed lady in need or not, it ain't like you see me wearing a fancy suit of armor and Augustus sure ain't no noble steed. Why don't you tell me who these fellas are and why you're so bent to find 'em? If the price on their head's good, I'll cut you in on a finder's fee, enough to get you to San Francisco. I ain't the man to leave you out here in the desert, but in return?" His tilted his eyebrow upward again.

"I'm just asking for a spot of honesty's all. Honesty and fair dealing. Now, there's probably plenty you ain't telling me and that's fully your right, ain't my place to pry into a lady's affairs. I ain't about to be demanding anything that just ain't gentlemanly neither," he said firmly. She was an attractive lady, to be sure, and over a card game and an ale, going in willingly? Sure, he'd be up for all sorts. But he wasn't going to try to force anything, nor make demands of a desperate woman. "But I think it's only right and proper I know what I'm getting myself into here before we go, find and maybe kill those friends of yours for a good payday."

He supposed those seemed fair enough terms. And who knew? Rosie here might even be a bonafide compass, sent by the whims of capricious fate to point him to the right direction.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Rosemary decided she liked the sound of Adam's voice. He had a sense of humor about him too, and that was always a good sign. Uptight gentlemen like the kind that plagued her back east always talked down to her, which while useful, did get annoying after a time. The bounty hunter was a bit curious for her tastes, but she supposed she couldn't blame him too much for that. It couldn't have been too often that a woman stumbled out of the brush of the backwoods and tried to steal his horse, and if he'd been a bit more put out about the situation...well, she couldn't have faulted him too much for that either.

Still, she wasn't about to go sharing all her secrets just yet.

After taking another drink from her canteen, the woman shrugged casually. "No business in particular. I do sing and dance a little in saloons when the opportunity presents itself. I can play the violin too, although I had to sell mine a few months back. Mostly I look after my father, but..." Damn it, why was her throat getting so tight all of a sudden? Hadn't she wept enough already?

Well, actually, no. Now that she thought about it, Rosemary really hadn't had much time to grieve Henry's death, she'd been so distracted with fleeing for her own life. "Say Adam..." she began slowly without looking at him. "I don't suppose you have any whiskey on you, do you?"

If not, her water would suffice. The fugitive shut her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, inhaling the scent of the smoke and the horse, and something else primal underneath. The smell of the man beside her? Odd, she would have expected someone living in the wilderness to reek of sweat and mud, but this was markedly pleasant. And it was enough to distract her from the pain her in heart, at least temporarily.

"The men who were hunting me...they killed my father. Back in St. Joseph, a few days ago. Shot him down in the street like a dog, and probably would have done the same to me if Pa hadn't told me to run." Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper as she stared into the depths of the fire. "I had a horse for a while, but the old nag died under me yesterday morning. Been walking ever since."

As soon as the words passed her lips, a forgotten exhaustion barrelled into her like a stampede, starting with her legs and spreading upward until her entire body slumped against the boulder. An irresistible urge to sleep began to tug at her eyelids, and Rosie looked helplessly back towards Adam. If she dared steal a few hours' rest, or even a few minutes', would he take the opportunity to kill her right then and there? Or rob her of the last few pennies in her pockets? Maybe he'd just reach up under her serape and help himself to a good feel of her heaving breasts or saddle-sore behind. Who knew how long it had been since he'd been around a woman after all?

It probably didn't matter. If Adam did want to kill her and had the decency to wait until she was asleep, at least the end would be quick and painless. As for the other two outcomes, those probably wouldn't be too bad. All Rosemary really wanted now was to lay down before the warmth of the fire, with food in her belly and at least a tentative sense of safety, and if she had to gamble to do so then so be it. But something about that look in his eyes said things would be all right. Adam might not have been a knight, but he didn't seem to be a rascal either, and she could have sworn that softness in his eyes was genuine sympathy for her plight.

"I hope you do kill them," she yawned, pulling her limbs up underneath her serape and letting her hat droop over her face. "A chance to spit on their sorry carcasses would be plenty of payment for me. You know, the big one shot Pa in the back, when he was already laying on the ground..."

The rest of her murmurs were caught on the wind as sleep finally took her.

*****
​

When Rosemary awoke in the morning, the first thing her hand felt for was the LeMat. It was still safely in her holster, though the handle was digging unpleasantly into her side. Then she felt for the money in her pocket; still all there too. Her clothes were a little mussed but not unusually so, and to her relief when she looked back to the edge of the campsite Augustus was still waiting there patiently.

"So you didn't desert me after all," she remarked to his master, glancing back towards Adam. "It seems you really are a gentleman, Mr. Adam. I shall have to think of how best to repay you."

Money was of course out of the question, but perhaps she might fix him something for breakfast. Slowly rising to her feet, the woman stretch and began to scan the nearby scrub for any decent foraging. Or even better, any sign of game.

 

[Vinaein]

Rosemary had a way around her, Adam decided. She was a tough looking young woman who bore all the indications of wearing that toughness like an armor against the ravages of life. No doubt, she'd been dealt a rough hand by life. Or more likely, thought the bounty hunter, by someone who had left a ledger that she had to balance. Every indication within those eyes of hers was there was a score yet to be settled. By chance or by fate (and the People were great believers in fate), she had come across his camp.

And his treacherous horse. He gave Augustus a sidelong glare, but the horse seemed rather disinterested. In fact, Augustus seemed to know an inescapable truth that Adam needed him more than Augustus needed Adam. Adam hated when that horse was right. Watching Rosemary take her drink, Adam settled back and got comfortable without any indication of ill will or malice.

It did not escape him how her voice tightened at mention of her father, but 'but' there. Adam did not showcase any mockery or capacity for jest upon his face. A solemnity settled over him, a frowning shadow that demanded nothing of her. "Here." He removed a small flask, near empty with only enough for a swig or two. "It's pretty strong stuff but there ain't much of it. Let's just...call it a peace offering right now, huh?" He said as he held the flash out for her. He listened to her story of murder in St. Joseph, detecting the scent of salt that gathered in her eyes.

What was he to say? "I'm sorry" seemed painfully inadequate. Adam simply sat in silence to hear it all out, removing any editorializing from the situation. He pressed his fingers before himself, within his lap, his mouth turning downward to a frown. "I see," he said at the end of it all. "...For whatever it's worth, and I know that can't be much? I'm sorry." Apologies and a mouthful of whiskey? A poor condolence.

More likely she wanted it answered with iron and lead. And what a turn of good fortune, for bringing killers to justice was just in his repertoire. "You get some rest. I ain't gonna lay a finger on you there. I'd let you have Augustus there, but it seems we might help one another out." He'd ask who the gang was in the morning. Like as not, there was a prize attached to them.

And a rehearsal for when he found Glanton and the rest. He merely .

When she drifted, he spent some time watching her, his mouth turned downward. Gods almighty, who knew what they might have in common if not for this? But both of them had lost people they'd loved. Both of them had known that horror, the emptiness that ate at their souls deep within. Looking at the woman, Adam inhaled, held it and sighed. Augustus went a bit closer to her, dropping down protectively with a look at his master.

"Yeah, yeah," Adam rolled his eyes at the horse. "Ya don't gotta tell me twice, Augustus." He was gonna help. There was a payday in it, but he couldn't help but think he might have been doing it regardless.

Settling back, he tugged his hat down. And slept with one eye open.

---

He awoke to augustus having evidently retreated to his favored spot, Rosemary stirring. "G'morning to you, there," he said with just the hint of a smile. "Would offer you breakfast...ran out of bacon'n eggs not long ago, actually. Still got the biscuits, but..." He looked at the sad little pot, with the knowledge they had gone through the stew.

"Probably ain't much about us by now. Most hunting about tends to come in at night. You can see why I wanted to get into town. Buuuut if you can work a miracle, I won't be averse to trying some frontier cooking, Miss Rosemary." Adam threw her a smirk.

His sense were always a touch dulled early in the morning, so he took his time with stretching, working energy back into his limbs. He couldn't deny he was hungry either. He glanced about, sniffing the air when...

Augustus stirred as the heavy trod of hooves reverberated through the air. Adam was looking up, the men emerging from behind an outcropping. Two of them, one a lean fellow and the other bulky, with a hairy, ursine face in contract to the slender feature the other had, with his rotting grin.

"...Well, well," the second said, with a scratch to his beard. "If it ain't..."

"Norris. Dan," Adam offered, his lips turned downward to a frown. His pistol was off to the side. The skinny one named Norris gave a little chuckle.

"Glanton said we might find ya roamin' about, Adam...gave us exactly what we need, ya get the drift?"

"I get it..." Adam glanced to Rosemary's direction. The two brigands were cutthroats, thieves, rustlers, murderers and more, some of the scum that Glanton and his crew now ran with. And they were absolutely armed. With Rosemary right there.

Well, they had them at a disadvantage. Had they been hunting him, or had this been lucky happenstance? They were nothing compared to some of his "old friends," but he wasn't keen to underestimate someone just yet.

And he had to make sure Rosemary was safe. If he could just reach down for his boot...

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Rosemary's eyes were fixed on the underbrush swaying in the morning breeze. She knew a little bit about foraging, thanks both to wizened old Nanny True and her medicinal garden in Arkham, as well as her father's resourceful eye for wild berries and mushrooms during their leaner periods. Sadly, neither of these teachers had ever traveled extensively westward, and many of the plants of the desert were utterly alien to the woman's eyes. There was a little prickly pear though--not the tastiest of breakfasts, but it would do in a pinch.

Reaching into her boot, she withdrew a small knife that wasn't as sharp as she would have liked, and she was halfway through cutting the pad free when the sound of hoofbeats suddenly made her freeze solid.

They're here.

"Son of a bitch..." she growled, dropping the cactus leaf and immediately drawing her LeMat. Rosemary squinted into the rising sun, fully expecting the riders to approach from the east where she'd left her pursuers. But to her surprise, they came around the hillside to the north, and there were only two of them. The fugitive thought at first it might have been the boss and the big man from St. Joseph, but the latter wasn't as large as she remembered, and the former was missing the distinctive scar across his otherwise unremarkable face.

So it wasn't them after all. Rosemary didn't stow her weapons, but she did take one careful step backward, ready to dart around the far side of the hillock and leave Adam to his fate. Cowardice might be a fault in a man Pa always said. But no one in his right mind would blame a little thing like you for running away. Rosemary had never felt guilty about it either, until running away left her only known family dead behind her. Not that she held Adam in the same regard as Henry Davison, but suppose they shot the horse as well as the master?

Adam himself seemed hardly concerned with the newcomers; he even seemed to know them. Rivals, perhaps...or bounties? A fresh fire alighted in Rosie's eyes as she cocked her head a little, suddenly seeing ghostly dollar signs hovering above the two men's heads. A first class compartment to San Francisco would be a relief after all this rough living...

"Gentlemen, perhaps you were unaware there's a lady present?" Rosemary spoke up with all the parlor haughtiness her mother taught her. With the swift hand movements of a practiced gambler, she simultaneously removed her hat and concealed her knife underneath, counting on the flash of her bronze mane to distract them long enough to let Adam get at his gun. "I had contracted this fellow here to escort me into town, so you'll understand my reluctance to be rid of him so quickly. I don't suppose there's any chance you could allow us to conclude our business before tending to your own?"

The bigger one's mouth contorted into a grin. "Not to worry, lady. We can show you the way back into town, eh Norris?"

"If'n you put that gun of yours down, of course," the skinny one agreed, training his own weapon on her. "Li'l thing like you'll probably jus' hurt herself with it anyway. Now come on sweetheart, drop it, and I promise we'll be real nice to ya..."

Rosemary's eyes widened. "Promise?" Her hand began to shake just a little.

"Cross my heart baby girl."

Without so much as a glance towards Adam, the woman gingerly laid her revolver on the ground in front of her, though not far enough away for Norris' taste. "Uh-uh sweetheart, don't try it. Kick it on over now," he ordered.

Straightening up, Rosemary pulled her leg back and made as if ready to kick just as the wind suddenly kicked up a dust-devil in front of her. Her hat went fluttering out of her hand, and before anyone could be totally sure what happened Norris let out a roar of pain and rage.

"You fucking bitch!"

Dan stared confusedly at his partner. "The fuck did she do?" he asked as Norris' gun went clattering to the ground instead. Both of the skinny man's hands were gripping at his leg, where Rosemary's knife was half-buried in his thigh.

It was a miracle really. Between the dulled edges of the knife and the sudden kickup of dust in the air, Rosemary herself was shocked the blade had found its mark. Scrambling for both her hat and her gun, she ducked back into the prickly pear patch, ignoring the spikes piercing into her trousers and taking shelter behind a good-sized boulder until the spiraling wind could clear out of her field of vision. She could only pray Adam's angle was clearer, and that Norris was worse at knife throwing than she was once he got the weapon out of his leg.

 

[Vinaein]

Dan and Norris were not just rustlers and thieves. These were men who could be offered pennies to the dollar to murder women and children on the frontier before doing it just so they'd be a little bit closer to heaven with their blood money than they had been before the start of the day. They were, as his mother would have put it, two low down, mean and rotten sons of bitches (no offense to any of the fine ladies of the People) who sought to make others hurt to fill voids within them that could not be filled by anything less than rivers of blood and pain.

All in all, they weren't really going to be a great loss to humankind should push come to shove. And they seemed to be gearing up to start the shoving. The only rub to the situation, which Adam was sure he had ell in hand even in the harsh light of day, was his new companion. Last thing he now wanted was for Rosemarie to catch a stray bullet in the middle of a conflict. Well, her or Augustus even if he was still mad at the horse. "Crossed your palms with silver, did he?"

Norris's grin was predatory, making Adam sigh. I should have somethin' wittier for this. But...fuck. He was in more danger than he had figured and it was only the keen circumstance that was making him think he just might get out of this. These two weren't professionals in the sense that they meant to roll up and fire. They were egotistical in addition to vicious. Someone brighter might just have started shooting.

Augustus, for his part, had not budged from his spot. The great steed gave a snort and with his master in mortal danger, yawned out, rumbling. Adam turned a grin to the confronting criminals, keeping his eyes from drifting down to that boot and the small pistol he wore there. "Don't suppose we could just sit down around a warm morning brew of coffee, have some roast lizard and talk like old friends?"

"What if we eat your mangy horse, Adam?"

...now that just crossed a damn line. "My horse don't like you making threats, Dan. He gets the crazy idea you're making threats at him. But if you two just apologize, I'm sure Augustus'll let it go- "

"Gentlemen, perhaps you were unaware there's a lady present?" Rosemary's voice was clear and sharp, a knife in the morning, with Adam's eyes flicking up. He heard her words, steeling himself. The situation was strung tight, bent back and ready to snap at a moment's notice. That had likely been inevitable from the start and may the great wolves of the world help him, but he was ready for it.

These two practically screamed "bounty" at the moment. Dan's next words washed away any hint of hesitation he had at thinking the world might be best off without them. One simply did not treat a lady like this.

Norris's scream greeted Adam with the smell of blood, a hilt seeming to sprout from his body. It was a distraction and a good one. This lady was a gambler born, rolling the dice to come up double sixes. And now she was diving for a patch, which meant it was his turn. And it just wouldn't be gentlemanly to leave her hanging, now would it?

He snapped a hand to his boot as Dan spun back, lifting the pistol. Adam's hand snapped, drawing the pistol in one fluid motion. The tiny thing didn't have much stopping power, but with his aim it didn't need to. One shot up and Dan's head snapped back, a tiny hole between his eyes. His mouth opened, a confused look coming upon his face. He took a step on reflex and collapsed. Norris, for his part had not decided to pull the knife out. In a cursed moment of clarity and intelligence, he was pulling another gun, shifting in line with Adam before the bounty hunter could cock the trigger-

Augustus kicked with his back legs, striking Norris in the side. Ribs crunched and the man was thrown back, Augustus snorting out furiously, remaining upward as Adam lifted his pistol. "I would recommend staying down, Norris. Haul you in good and alive- "

"For the gallows?" Norris gave a hacking cough from the ground, his gun within reach. "Frank says fuck you, Adam."

"Don't do it," Adam gave one warning to no avail. Norris reached, Adam pulled the trigger and Norris was still before the morning sun. First things first, Adam walked up to retrieve the revolvers and open them, the sight of the bullets confirming his suspicions. He emptied them into his own pocket, looking to the bodies. "Rosie?" He called out. "Owe ya some thanks, hell if I don't, madam!" He heard a snort and saw Augustus staring at him.

"Aaaaand owe you a sugar cube and an apple. Guess there's a reason I don't cook you up, ya mangy turncoat." He pat the steed's side.

"What say we load these gentlemen up, make it into town and use the money for a good steak dinner, a nice room and some hot baths?"

Augustus gave a snort.

"Aaaand a few days' supply of apples," Adam said before he paused a moment. "...Also. Much obliged. By which I mean to say...thank ya."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

It all happened so quickly, Rosemary couldn't be quite sure what had happened.

She made it to shelter behind the rock just as the dust was beginning to die down. Judging by the way the big man squinted she wasn't sure how good his eyes were, but in a moment whoever had the clearer vision would clearly be able to--

A shot rang out, followed by the thump of a body, a large body, hitting the dirt. Then came the scream and clatter of one horse running off, and the panicked snorting and stamping of another. As she peered around the boulder, Rosie saw with some relief that Augustus was still there, solid and unshaken as a statue. Well, until he kicked the little man in the ribs, at least. The woman winced as the outlaw's body went sailing clean out of his saddle, his own mount giving in to terror and running off after its comrade, who was already nearly vanished around the hill.

The worst of the danger seemingly dispatched, Rosemary rose cautiously to her feet, her own gun cocked in case the man on the ground managed to summon some last reserve of strength and regain his own weapon. But even though he seemed to move with the slow, casual grace of an apex predator, Adam was standing over the outlaw in the blink of an eye, muttering some last unwarranted offer of mercy. Stupid the woman thought coldly. Even from where she stood it was easy to see Norris' back was shattered after getting catapulted off his horse. Killing him would be the real kindness.

A shot.

Adam was a kind man after all.

"Jesus, you got him right between the eyes," Rosemary gasped as she nudged Dan's blood-covered face with her boot. She could hardly be as impressed at the point-blank shot the bounty hunter had taken with Norris laying on the ground, but the marksmanship on the big man was something to marvel at. "You ever think about joining up with one of those traveling shows, doing trick shots and the like? If the bounty hunting ever dries up, I bet you could make a pretty penny in that business."

"Much obliged. By which I mean to say...thank ya."

She yanked her knife out of Norris' leg and wiped it clean with the edge of her serape. "Yeah well, 'thanks' are lovely, but words are words end of the day," Rosie continued in a businesslike tone as she looked back at Adam. "Now I'm not saying I deserve a full fifty percent of whatever these two are worth, seeing as you actually did the killing. Well, actually, I think Augustus should get the credit for him," she inclined her head towards Norris as she affectionately patted the horse's neck. "But since I assume you handle all of dear Gus' business for him, I trust you to hold onto his share."

"As for me though," stepping into the horse's stirrup, she swung herself back into his saddle. "I think thirty percent would be acceptable. I did distract them long enough to let you get a shot in after all."

The woman fully expected some argument both to this and her presumptuous position on the horse's back, but she ignored both. Nor did she bother to help bind the bodies together or tie the drag behind Augustus, which might have explained why when it was time to go, even the sweet-natured horse refused to budge.

"What, does he really not like me?" Rosemary huffed as she slid defeated off the horse's back. "I thought we were friends, Gus." She stuck her lower lip out in a pout as her boots hit the dust again. Maybe there were still some crabapples left on those trees farther over towards the stream that he could be bribed with, but before she could get three steps in that direction she heard a distinct snort behind her.

Adam had mounted his horse in her place, and seemed to be preparing to leave. "Now I know you aren't planning to leave me after all this, Adam. That would be quite Cain-ish of you, don't you think?" There was a note of humor in her voice, but her right hand twitched with the ghost of a threat, and an uncertain rhythm beat in her chest. No, he wouldn't leave her behind, not even if he wanted to. Augustus seemed no more interested in setting out with his own master on his back than he had with Rosemary. Instead the horse snorted again, rather impatiently this time, and stared directly in her direction.

Looking from Augustus to Adam, she tilted her head back in bewilderment. "You don't suppose he's sick, do you? I don't know a thing about horses, but he looks all right to me. Strong enough to carry you and them," Rosemary elbowed towards the bodies of Norris and Dan, tied together like cordwood and ready to be dragged for miles over the rocky ground. A thought occurred to her then, and she looked experimentally back towards the saddle. "You don't suppose he could carry both of us, do you? Shall we try?"

Rosie waited for Adam to hold out a hand to help her up, and soon found herself seated comfortably behind him. Augustus let out one more snort, this time sounding rather satisfied and not at all put-out at bearing the weight of two people as well as a burden behind him, and stepped forward almost cheerfully into the morning sun. The woman, on the other hand, hadn't expected such a sudden movement and instinctively wrapped her arms around Adam's strong torso, holding on a bit tighter than was probably necessary.

Once she got used to the movement of the horse beneath her though, the woman loosened her grip slightly and tried to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. "So...is it far to town?" she asked as the landscape began to drift by.

 

[Vinaein]

In one moment, Norris and Dan were living, breathing men with futures as nasty as their pasts. An instant later, coupled with the the aid of a thrown knife, several gunshots and the kick of a rather ornery horse, they were reduced to carrion. Meat for vultures and coyotes and gila monsters (if gila monsters could stomach such foul flesh at any rate). All they were was relegate to the past tense and all they would be was consigned to dark oblivion. They were dead and the world was just a little better for it int he estimation of Adam Talbot. Hell, he was even a bit frustrated that they had been wastes of a good bullet or two. Those he'd have to buy back.

Augustus was waiting as Adma turned his eyes to the great horse. "This don't make us fully even. But it goes a ways to it. So thank ya," he said, albeit grudgingly. Augustus snorted, as if reminding his erstwhile master he better damn well not forget those apples. And to core them, Augustus didn't like the seeds.

Which left him and Rosemary as the only thinking duo on two feet. The woman had the instincts of a coyote herself; stay low to the ground and hit when the hitting was good. But they were alive, Norris and Dan were dead and that was the end of that chapter. Now these fellows were men with price tags on them. Bang, that had been it. "Sure I got him right between the eyes, Miss Rosemary," Adam said idly. "You know a better place to kill a man? Didn't want him to suffer none. Just wouldn't be civilized if I did." He debated whether to justify the comment about carnival and traveling shows with a response. "Much obliged on that comment for trick shots, but I'm fine with turning in bodies for bounties, if it's all the same to you, madam," he said as he slipped his guns back to the holsters.

Wait, did she just say... He glance at Rosemary with a lifted eyebrow. "Augustus takes commission in apple and sugar, so that leaves us to split the money. Though I could swear I heard you mention that an eighty and thirty split would be something amenable?" He debated it for a moment, thinking on the merits. "Well, I'm hereby obliged to insist that I handle Augustus's share and take that outta my own. For you, I think you've more than earned it. Let's call it an assistant fee, eh?" He asked before he set to the bodies, rifling through the pockets for any valuables. Their horses had raced off and Adam was spending his time forming a rope to tie to the saddle. "Faces weren't much to look at, but should keep 'em from getting bloodied up so nobody recognizes 'em?" He glanced to Augustus with a raised eyebrow.

"Someone's actin' the mighty mountain right now," he said with a growl. "You were all set to race off last night when the lady came along here. Are you so shy now?" He tapped Augustus's side, sniffing the air a bit.

"Nah, he ain't sick. Augustus ain't bee sick a day in his life. Might be irritated you called him Gus, but..." at Rosemary' little surge of inspiration, he sighed heavily. "Gotta be kidding me. Damn this horse," he said as he climbed into the saddle...and there he was, right with the good Madam Rosemary.

He was immediately on their way, pleased when Gus responded to the snap of the reins. The horse was going at a good, even pace, Adam sighing in relief. "We're probably a few hours out, half a day at most! Ya comfortable right there on your perch, Miss Rosie?" He asked, giving her a coy grin over his shoulder. "First time ya foraged for bounties? Beats robbing a man of his treacherous horse, eh?"

He kept his hands on the reins there. "Might get a little bumpy. Feel free to hold on tight!" And the weather was simply perfect, he noted...giving them time enough together to better know one another.

"Who taught you that with that there knife?"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Ya comfortable right there on your perch, Miss Rosie?" Judging from the tone in his voice, Rosemary suspected Adam rather liked having a woman wrap her arms around him, even if she hadn't had a bath in two weeks.

"I'd rather be up here than back there," she replied, thumbing towards the bodies bumping along the road beside them. "You don't suppose we'll wear their faces off dragging them around like that, will we? How do we even prove those are the fellas with the rewards on them?"

It was obvious from this line of question that the woman had very little experience with bounty hunting as a profession, unless you counted that time in Jackson when the Davisons had won a tidy sum at the poker tables off of one such entrepreneur. Henry had justified that particular win by scorning any man who would make a living "sticking his nose in other people's business," as he called it. The gambler may have been a bit biased in that opinion of course, considering there were a few small rewards on his own head scattered throughout the east. He'd even thought the men who would eventually murdered him had been bounty hunters at first, although their persistence in the chase had made it clear they were after more than the piddly fifteen-dollar reward Henry would have fetched if brought in alive.

Rosie shuddered a little at the memory, her arms unconsciously tightening around Adam. This wasn't the time to be thinking of all that unpleasantness.

Better instead to steer the conversation back towards her companion. "How long have you been a bounty hunter, Adam?" she asked, letting her arms loosen a little once she'd realized how tight they'd been. "I imagine it must keep you away from home quite a bit, wherever that may be. Is there a wife or kids someplace that's gonna be worried about you if we don't get back in time?" Rosemary tried to hide the genuine concern of the question under a carefree laugh, but after seeing how quickly her own family had been cut down, the grim reminder that a similar fate could happen to Adam's hung at the back of her mind like a noose.

You don't know that you're alone, her father's voice cheerfully echoed in her mind. She might be in San Francisco after all.

"What?" Rosie piped up, realizing Adam had asked her something while she was lost in though. "Oh, the knife? Well, believe it or not..." She smiled at the back of his head. "I spent most of the first six or seven years of my life in theaters. My mother was--is an actress. You might have heard of her, Mary True? She's a great Shakespearean, probably the finest American lady of the stage this century." The woman's back straightened in pride as she recalled her mother's beautiful, frightening performance as Lady Macbeth opposite the great Edwin Booth.

"Anyway, I remember before she really started getting famous, she did smaller plays with some--" Rosemary paused, trying to the think of the most tactful phrase. "--less classically trained people. There was this one little Russian fellow who always got cast as the villain, and he really could throw knives. He'd been in a circus or something I think when he was younger. But he and his wife would look after me sometimes when Mother was busy in rehearsals, and Pa was...working. Old Sasha was the one who taught me how to throw a knife properly, although Maria would always curse him out for letting a kid play with knives afterward, even if they were mostly dull."

She still couldn't help but think that throw back at the campsite had been nothing more than luck. Now that Rosie thought about it though, it might not have been a bad idea to start practicing a bit more. She didn't have Pa to watch her back now, and if nothing else once she got to San Francisco it never hurt to have one more trick to show off in the theater.

It seemed highly unlikely, after all, that Adam would be able to join her on her continued journey west, if he had his own business to think of. "What about you? Not just anyone can handle guns as easily as you did back there. How'd you learn all that?"

The continued conversation made an otherwise hot and dusty day pass by almost pleasantly, and by midafternoon a cluster of buildings had appeared perhaps a mile or so ahead of them, along a green belt where the little stream from before joined a muddy, lazily-flowing river. From the horse's back Rosemary could pick out what was obviously a church, a larger building that might have been a hotel, a handsome brick bank, and several other wooden structures that could have housed anything from feed stores to livery stables. One key feature was noticeably missing though.

"No railroad station, huh?" Rosemary asked in a voice thick with disappointment as she slipped off the horse's back. She noticed a crooked sign posted along the road that read a single word: Constantine. Well, she'd certainly never heard of a town by that name before, so she supposed she couldn't fault the railroad companies for not knowing it either. "I suppose we might at least get some food and water in us. Do you know where the saloon is?" the woman asked, looking back up at her savior for a moment before glancing back at their dusty burden behind them. "Come to think of it, maybe we'd better take them to the sheriff first. They're starting to smell..."

 

[Vinaein]

Back in the saddle again, Adam thought with a cheery smile. On a horse who seemed to think he deserved praise for saving the day. There was a smugness to Augustus's heavy trot, his hooves trotting across the ground as he took a nice, leisurely pace across the desert. If he didn't know any better, Adam Talbot might have thought that this cheeky horse of his was making an attempt to give him and Rosie more time together. But that was absurd...

Wasn't it? He allowed himself a smirk at her comment about being better up front than "back there." Good point, he thought. Sharp tongue and sharp blades on this rose-tressed Rosie. He was tapping his foot to Augustus's thick side, the horse giving a snort as if to say 'We'll get there when we get there.' He felt Rosie shudder, her arms tight about him. A frown came to his lips, his mouth opening briefly before it closed. He wanted to ask about things, but all that came out was a brief "you alright there?" Paltry and maudlin at best, he thought, even as he felt her leaning in on him.

Hey, conversation. That was a good thing. Actually, a great thing. Gave him time to talk about himself, free of guilt! Didn't everyone want that at some point or another? "Few years now," he said. Yeah, a few years flying solo, before that... "Used to be running with a crew of my own. Some good fellas, some bad. Weren't outlaws though, if that's what you're thinking. As for people...there's some family way back west." He shrugged. "Ain't ever been married and if I got kids, nobody's told me there. But there's...family, you might say."

The People had extensive bloodlines and he absolutely had kin back in their conclaves and communities...hell, he and Frank were cousins several times removed, not that it mattered to anyone. Only one he wasn't related to, in all likelihood, was Holden. "There's some folk, but...I been on my own just a while now, y'know?" He gave a short chuckle that went to a sigh. "Lost some of 'em. Good friends. In nasty ways. Ain't a memory I have any particular fondness for. But there's also Augustus here!" The horse snorted in response. "He's got a genuine heart of gold, I assure you, Miss Rosie. Glad you happened by with those two about. Might've gotten dicey without you as my Lady Luck today."

Lady Luck indeed and an actress. The revelation she still breathed was of a minor intrigue to the bounty hunter. Not that Adam had ever heard of a Mary True. "Well, I do attend myself a little play here'n there, but the Bard can get dreadful depressing. Wasn't a dry eye when we saw King Lear and can't say I paid much attention to who was on the bill...till one fella shot the President after the war."

Yeah, that had been quite the time, with open season for bounty hunters on Confederate remnants. "But your mom must be quite the star, eh?" He said. "Used to light up the stage?" He digested the rest of what she said, quiet as he heard all of it. "I'll have to write a thank ya to Old Sasha then." He was, to his surprise, appreciating the more he learned of Rosemary. It was making her feel more real to him, a history attached to her and not just a face he'd met out in the desert. "And I thank you, too, for it all..." he hesitated a bit when she asked him.

"My uncles taught me about guns. My father, too," he said. "Joined the army for it. We fought good and honorable, cut down a fair few men in gray coats, the worst of the worst. Then we went west..and saw order and justice was just words for some folk. Sand Creek and more...when we learned about that, we hung it up....some went to the bad, started taking the wrong kinda bounties. We had...disagreements and then were was just me."

Saying a lot while saying little. "If you don't mind my saying, I think I'm a damned good shot."

When they arrived at Constantine, Adam's first sight were the rails, like iron fingers pointing at their destination as if inviting the newcomers to follow. The town seemed a prosperous sort of place, with well-built structures and individuals about. There were shops, laborers, a brothel, a sheriff's office...all the essentials one needed for a nice, thriving little town. Not to mention a saloon.

"Wait a tick..." Adam paused at the sight of the sheriff's office. "Say, Rosie, you see what I see?" His voice was soft. The men about there were armed, but their uniforms did not bear the stars of deputized officers. But each wore an eye on them. "Those men are Pinkertons," he muttered.

"...This's a company town," he almost cursed. "Hope the money's still good and these pricks were wanted well enough....otherwie someone's gonna notice we're riding about with corpses..."

Someone was indeed approaching, a broad built man with a thick beard, a grin on his face. "Mighty fine to meet you, welcome to Constantine, where nobody's a stranger long!" He looked at the bodies and reached into his coat, withdrawing papers from it. "If that ain't..."

"It is," Adam affirmed, seeing the symbol of the eye.

"Well, I'm sheriff Obadiah Gregory," the big man said. "And the reward here seems fair...ten for the both."

"TEN?" Adam asked. "They're worth twenty! Says so, right- "

"I'm afraid there's a...finder's fee. You understand." The sheriff's teeth flashed white under the beard. "Look at it this way, stranger. We're not taking half. We're LEAVIN' half. I trust no objections from your lady here, either?"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

It was a story Rosemary had heard a thousand time before. Another soldier left to find his way after the war was over, cobbling new comrades out of the scraps of fighting men that had been scattered across the frontier. They always fell apart eventually, and the woman always seemed to have a knack for crossing paths with them before they joined up with some new posse with some new cause, from righting perceived wrongs to pure profit. She just ought to be grateful that Adam seemed more righteous than most of the others she'd met, and not think too much into the matter. There was no taming men like him, much as she might have wanted to. She could barely look after herself as it was.

Still, something about the way he called her "Rosie" sent dangerously pleasant shivers up her spine as she followed his gaze to the cadre of detectives.

Pinkertons raised a small alarm inside her, but not nearly as much as the outlaws had. The agency almost never wasted their time with small-time card sharps, and while her father had always taken care to play fairly with them, he'd never shown any particular fear of the organization. "They're a trouble for working stiffs back east, not free spirits like us, Rosie," Henry had said during their last encounter with one such gentleman.

Now she shrugged indifferently as she glanced up at the bounty hunter. "So what? They know how it all works of course, I highly doubt they would accuse us of murder if we have the papers to prove these men are criminals. They're probably busy anyways, hunting outlaws and...oh."

Hunting outlaws indeed.

She was about to suggest they turn back before they were seen, but it was too late. A new figure was approaching with a shiny star on his chest, and there was no mistaking the look on his face as he eyed Adam and Rosie's dusty cargo. He was a short fellow and a bit on the paunchy side, but as he spoke the sheriff's hands moved quickly and easily--the hands of an experienced gunslinger. And his eyes were clear even as they smiled, a flickering light within them warning that this man was not to be crossed, even if he was threatening to take more than half of what the hunters were owed.

"I trust no objections from your lady here, either?" There was something else in his eyes as he looked over at Rosemary, something she had seen in other mens' eyes as well. Pa had taught her to recognize it, and how to use it.

Her hand brushed against Adam's boot as she stepped in front of him and the horse, an almost imperceptible gesture of reassurance. Tilting back her hat, Rosemary smiled warmly at the sheriff. "I can't say I'm very experienced with this bounty hunting business," she began in a sweet voice. "But ten dollars sounds fair enough to me. That should be enough to get us a couple of rooms at the hotel over there, isn't it?" She gestured towards the saloon. "And perhaps a bath and a meal as well?"

Looking down, she sheepishly nudged her boot into the dirt. "Sheriff Gregory...I wonder if I might be able to impose upon you for some help. You see, that man over there--" Rosemary pointed over her shoulder at Adam. "--is really quite a stranger to me. He was kind enough to see me into town after I went through a terrible ordeal out there in the desert, but what I really need is the help of a big..." She laid one hand on the sheriff's forearm. "...strong..." Her eyes fluttered up helplessly at him. "...lawman."

The woman inclined her head back towards the saloon. "Can we go in there and talk a little bit? A drink would do wonders for my nerves."

Sheriff Gregory looked from Rosemary to Adam and back, suspicious for a moment, but then offering her his arm nonetheless. Women weren't unusual in Constantine, but there hadn't been any new girls in a while, and those that already resided there were known to be ugly, married, whores, or all three. The sheriff held no ideals about what this new one wanted, but with those Pinkerton bastards hanging around, why shouldn't he spend an hour and a dollar for a bit of recreation?

"You can see the deputy about payment," Obadiah remarked carelessly to Adam as Rosie took his arm. "I'll be sure to take good care of this little lady in the meantime."

He led her into the saloon, a large room populated with ramshackle tables tables and chairs, with only a few forlorn-looking men to occupy them. Most were playing cards, while a few others were locked in whispered conversations with overly-painted women whose expressions ranged from hungry to bored. A small stage and currently player-less piano on the far while did catch Rosemary's attention for a moment, but not as much as the one-eyed, heavyset Mexican woman watching her like a hawk from behind the bar.

"Whiskey, Senora Martinez!" the sheriff demanded as he ushered Rosie to an isolated table in the corner, but the woman quickly broke away to approach the bartender herself.

"Perdóneme," she murmured to Señora Martinez. "¿Están disponibles las habitaciones?"

"Si," the bartender replied. "Por horas o por noches?"

"Una noche. Por ahora," Rosie answered. "¿Y hay bañera?"

Señora Martinez nodded and gave her the price. Rosemary slid the coins across the bar and received a key in return. "Número trece," the bartender said as she handed a bottle of whiskey over to the waiting sheriff.

"You speak Spanish, huh?" Obadiah noted in a tone of mixed curiosity and suspicion as he sat down at the table in the corner, forcing Rosie into the chair next to him. "You don't look the type."

"I had a governess from Barcelona when I was a child," the woman replied sweetly, utterly unfazed at the sheriff's hand on her thigh. 'Governess' was probably a generous turn for the drunken lesbian opera singer, but the statement wasn't wholly a lie.

"Governess. You must be lost then, huh missy? We don't get girls with governess' out in these parts." The sheriff's voice had become more sympathetic as he poured whiskey for the both of them. "Where'd you come from anyway?"

She had never been more prepared. Rosemary launched into an entirely fabricated tale about a Baltimore family that had lost their fortune during the war, resulting in their only child being forced into becoming a mail-order bride for a rich lawyer out in San Francisco. A few robberies, steamboat explosions, and a very accurate description of the men that really had terrorized her in the desert, and Sheriff Gregory was wholly enchanted. And drunk.

"Say Sheriff..." Rosie mused in his ear as she pointed at the men playing cards across the room. "Those gentlemen over there...are they playing whist? Papa did enjoy that pastime so." She punctuated this with a dramatic sigh.

The sheriff chuckled. "No ma'am, that's poker. You ever played before?"

The woman looked aghast. "Certainly not! Mama would never have approved. Although...she wouldn't approve of me getting so friendly with a stranger either. Even if he is an elected official," she added with a naughty giggle.

"Oh come on, it's just a bit of fun. Come here, I'll teach you." He staggered to his feet and made his way over to the table, where he confiscated the deck without a word. Returning to Rosemary's table, he began to awkwardly shuffle the cards, dropping a few on the ground in the process. "Now, we really need a few more people to play properly. Hey Jefferson, you old hangdog!"

A man she hadn't noticed before looked up from where he'd been sitting at the end of the bar. Like the men outside, he too had the Pinkerton Eye emblazoned on his sleeve.

"Come help me teach this little lady how to play cards. And for a fourth--"

"Oh Adam!" Rosemary interrupted, waving towards her erstwhile companion as she spied him. "Come over here, won't you? The sheriff and his friend have been kind enough to teach me how to play poker. Why don't you join us?"

Both the Pinkerton and the sheriff eyed this newest addition distastefully, but didn't object. "Why not?" the sheriff agreed eventually as he began to deal. "I wouldn't mind winning a little more of that bounty off you. Would you, Jeff?"

He grinned at the Pinkerton, who said nothing in response, only watched Adam with dark, hungry eyes.

 

[Vinaein]

The Pinkerton who had spoken, with his wide grin and smug demeanor, set Adam's lips together, his eyes narrowing with a calm, but furious determination. Now would you look at this here, thought the werewolf bounty hunter. You worked your damn tail off (not literally, but nearly), making an honest wage (by killing people who didn't) and these fellows saw fit to rob a man of what he had earned by his own labor. Not even a good way, either, not like this was honest taxes going to the funding of services and the upkeep of infrastructure. This was going into corrupt pockets of corrupt men. Adam hid his outrage, managing to keep his eyes up with a disarming and pleasant grin upon his face. No violence...Rosie was right there.

The Pinks being right here was not exactly something that filled him with confidence. Corruption and brutality was ingrained in them. He'd heard of heroic Pinkertons, like the woman who had saved Lincoln. His cousin had fought with a lady named Kate Ward during the war, infiltrating behind Rebel lines and bringing back news of plots. He'd been a fighter then himself, one of many of the People on the lines there...

But this...was unusual. This indicated Constantine wasn't our usual little fly-by-night operation. Pinks wouldn't be wasting their time here. No, there'd be more. He wondered what his parents might've said, seeing him here. "Why the fuck aren't the traitor dead yet?" Yeah, that sounded like his father. And his uncles. And his grandfather. Knowing it would be more of a problem to make a scene, the werewolf forced the smile to his face, even as the way the thick man was looking at Rosie made his hackles positively lift up.

Before he could say anything, Rosie was proving her head was screwed on tighter than his own. He could indeed respect this. Her tone was dulcet, so sweet it could been sprinkled over a good bite of fried dough from New Orleans. "The Lady's spoken," he finished with a weak shrug. A bath, a meal, time to rest...Rosie had this well at hand. Good on her, he thought. He was kinda respecting the grift, though...

Rosie turning on the charm for this scumbag Pinkerton and working her magic. Nothing to be said for it. Just respect and observation. Good on her. He couldn't help but admire this lady with him. Even if her hand on Gregory's arm made him want to rip that arm off and beat the fellow to death with it. But those were little quirks of culture that some folks just had to live with....when the fellow mentioned the deputy, Adam forced a grin with his pearly white teeth, inclining his head.

"Don't mind if I do..." he mumbled as he led Augustu down. The horse gave a snort, Adam resolving to turn Obadiah into fucking paste if he so much as looked at Rosemary wrong. He tried to direct his attention away, Augustus leading the bodies down the dusty road one step at a time. Little by little they went on, the deputy being a man with a ratlike face, giving a yawn as he looked up. "Deputy?" Asked the werewolf with a tilted eyebrow.

"Name's Harrison," the deputy mumbled, rubbing at his whiskered cheeks. "Ya new in town?"

"Gregory said I get ten for these fellas," he pointed with a thumb over at Norris and Dan. "Theyr'e wanted, you know it. Cattle rustlers and murderers."

"How much did Sheriff say you get for them?"

"Fifteen," Adam aid, suddenly savvy to the gleam in Harrison's eyes.

"Ten it is," he whispered as he pulled out the money. "Ya take this hear and leave the bodies, we'll do the reports and leave 'em all nice and legal like."

"What kinda town is this here?" Adam was trying to avoid small talk as much as possible, putting on a faux-scowl to his face to at least appear frustrated through it. "They got the rails through?"

"Constantine's named for Mr. Constantine," Harrison said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Town runs on the mines but they're buildin' the rails to transport the ore easier. Vein 'a mineral running through, most fellas work there and most ladies work the saloons for 'em all." He gave a grin there. "Some fellas have proper appetite if you get my drift. Your pay, sir. Don't spend it all in one place....though you might be careful since the store only take company scrip."

"Dare I ask about the exchange rate?"

"Two to one."

"Silly of me to even ask," Mumbled Adam as he left, sighing as he led Augustus with him, to where Rosemary had vanished with that thuggish sheriff. And Rosie had him flagged down instantly.

To his credit, Adam put on a surprised expression. "POKER? Now, come on, lassie, you told me you didn't know cards from a telegraph!" He laughed. "Come on now, bad idea..."

He resisted the strong urge to wink in her direction, sending her con right off. Damn, but he liked this woman.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Rosemary casually waved her hand at her companion as he sat down beside her. "If you don't know something, that's exactly why you ought to learn it." She was careful to avoid his gaze from then out, instead focus on the sheriff's shuffling hands. "Besides, I'm not wholly unfamiliar with the concept of gambling. The girls at my boarding school used to play euchre for pennies. Speaking of which, how much money should I be prepared to lose, Sheriff?"

The bearded man chuckled as he began to deal. "As much as you've got!" he teased, reaching over to give her a playful pinch on the arm. "Nah nah Missy, I'm sure you'll get your stroke of beginner's luck. But around here, buy-in's no less than one dollar." Setting aside the deck, Obadiah's look darkened ever so slightly as he looked across the table at Adam. "Your friend there should have collected on that bounty by now though. I'm sure he can spot you."

"No need," Rosie interrupted, reaching into her pocket and laying a crumpled bill on the table before her. "I do have a bit of pocket money leftover from the start of my journey. As well as a few other...trinkets that may be of interest to you gentlemen." Her eyes lingered on the sheriff for a moment as she gently bit at her lower lip, then turned her head until she was facing the Pinkerton. Finally, she locked eyes with Adam, and the feigned flirtation lifted just long enough for an actual flash of affection and reassurance to cross her face. Everything will be all right, you'll see she seemed to say, then looked at her cards.

The woman sipped daintily at her whiskey while listening to the sheriff explain the different hands she was supposed to try for. The Pinkerton, Jefferson, occasionally interrupted with some clarification or correction to the drunken man's ramblings, but mostly his attention was lingering on his own cards and the bounty hunter beside him. When play officially began, Rosemary daringly added a quarter to her bet...but alas, it went to the sheriff. So did the quarter she added in the second round, and the half-dollar she put up in the third surprisingly went to the Pinkerton. Even Adam managed to take a little of her money before she began to prudently fold a few times.

After the sixth or seventh abstention, the sheriff's face had begun to get annoyed. "Now come on little lady, you said you wanted to play. You just gonna sit there and waste our time the rest of the evening?"

A quick glance out the nearest window at the darkening sky proved that several hours really had passed, and night was coming on soon. The woman blushed a little before reaching into her pocket one last time. "This last dollar is all I have, Mr. Gregory--"

"That's Sheriff Gregory to you, missy!"

"Sheriff Gregory," Rosie obediently corrected. "But this last dollar is all I have left, and I really think I ought to save it for a rainy day, you know? As it is I don't know how I'm going to afford passage to the next town..."

Obadiah waved a hand over the respectable pot in the middle of the table. "Ah come on, there must be at least thirty dollars there! And even if you lose," he seized her wrist and pulled her in closer, the sour smell of his breath almost enough to make her gag. "I bet you could earn twice that much in a week if you took a crib upstairs. Hell, I'll give you three myself when we're done here, and Jeff over there's probably good for at least two. That stuffed shirt could use a good fu--"

"What about this?" Rosemary asked, pulling sharply away from the sheriff as the dollar disappeared back into her pocket. When her hand reappeared, it was clutching a silver pocket watch on a chain, a soft ticking emanating slowly from it. "It's an old family heirloom, but it's real silver."

This caught the Pinkerton's attention. Narrowing his eyes a little, he held out his hand so he could inspect the watch. "If it's real silver, it must be worth at least a hundred dollars," the man grunted, holding it up to the light. Something about the crest made him pause though, and Rosie couldn't help but notice his eyes widened a little before he handed it back to her. "Fine by me though, so long as this is the last hand. Some of us have places to be." He gave a rather pointed look to the sheriff.

She didn't expect any argument from Adam, and since the sheriff could easily see he was outnumbered, he accepted the agreement. Rosemary placed the pocket watch in front of her and shut her eyes a moment, praying.

Da, you always said this piece of junk was good luck. That better be true.

It was the Pinkerton's deal. Rosie kept her expression totally flat as she looked at her cards, and without a word slid the watch forward. Adam was the first show his cards: a pair of aces. The woman's heart skipped a beat, knowing she had at least one person beat. Then it was the Pinkerton, whose murderous gaze first landed on Rosemary (or rather, the watch in front of her), then Adam. A pair of kings, just barely worse.

Now it was the sheriff's turn, and the woman couldn't deny she didn't like the smug look on his face. "Looks like I'm gonna get a little memento of our time together, huh missy?" he grinned, laying down a full house. "Queens and Jacks. Sorry sweetness, but maybe if you're real nice to me I'll let you earn that pretty watch of yours back some other way."

His gnarled hand reached for it, but Rosie's long fingers were faster. She immediately seized the watch and laid down her own hand in one fluid motion. "So sorry, Sheriff, but every woman knows you never settle for a knave when you can have a king." Grinning, she gestured to the cards in front of her. While Obadiah's hand had consisted of the black queens and three jacks, Rosemary's held both red queens, and three kings to round out her own higher full house.

Sheriff Gregory turned red, and for a moment she thought he might go for his gun. At a look from the Pinkerton though he stilled, then shook his head and smiled. "Well played, missy. Awful lot of beginner's luck there after all, huh?"

Rosemary shrugged as she began to gather up her winnings. "I only won a single hand, Mr. Gregory. I was just lucky enough that it was the biggest one," she replied.

"Guess so. But I'm gonna have my eyes on you, young lady." There was no teasing Obadiah's voice now, and she didn't like the lingering look in his eyes. But before he could act further on it, the Pinkerton whispered something in his ear and gestured towards the door. The sheriff nodded, then tipped his hat to both of the strangers. "You two take care now. And don't let me catch you making any trouble in my town, you understand? Pretty faces only fool me once." And with that he and the detective departed, leaving Adam and Rosemary alone at the table.

"Did you hear that?" Rosie said finally. "He thinks you're pretty."

Grinning at him, she carefully tucked away the rest of her winnings and let out a satisfied sigh. "Well then, you got your half of the bounty from the deputy, and I got mine at the card table. I think we're quite well settled now, aren't we? Although to thank you for your cooperation just now, I'd like to buy you dinner, if it suits you. If not..."

She leaned in a little closer to him. "I'd be happy to share my room with you, and show my appreciation in another way."

 

[Vinaein]

The Sheriff was dancing in the palm of Rosemary's hand. That was obvious to Adam's trained eyes, gleaming with an amber light for a moment, which none in the tavern noticed. But the werewolf raised his eyebrow as he walked over, detecting the sounds of chatter and play all across the gambling hall. Men sat in one table, each hiding a ring of cards, their hats at their sides. Women in low-cut dresses were discussing prices with their clients, giggling in sultry manners to entice them all the way through.

the scent of alcohol touched his nose, men quaffing mugs filled to the brim with amber liquid. With a place like this, fine spirits were like as not to be substituted for cheap beer and whiskey. But Rosemary was focused on the cards, with accuracy he had seen only from the focus of crack snipers back in the war.

When the sheriff had suggested Adam "spot" Rosie, he was certainly prepared to...but Rosie had this in hand, didn't she. Of course, he thought while he smirked his way over at Obadiah in what he hoped was an endearingly cheeky manner. He didn't say that he had collected the bounties. Rosemary would know it without being told. When his eyes met Rosemary's, Adam noted a great deal there:

Determination. Confidence. Poise. This woman was born to the gambling table, to dance among the whims of fate and bend them to her own will. His own gaze told her that he had faith in her. Just, his eyes told her, don't bet my horse. Augustus might not forgive him for it and besides, the old boy had earned a respite after helping against the dearly departed fellas whose carcasses had stuffed their pockets.

Rosemary studied those cards like monks studied bibles, like chefs studied their recipes, like bankers studied their ledgers. She studied them as Adam's footfalls brought him closer. "Deal me in," he said simply. He retrieved a dollar there, looking at his cards. The first was a fold...money changed hands...

Now, Adam was a fair hand with poker. Truth be told, the People most fancied dice when it came to gambling. Throwing the bones and rolling them as it were to determine who got the spoils as the victor. Rosemary's early performance...left just a touch to be desired, thought Adam as he folded on his latest hand.

....at the sound of that lecherous prig making a pass at Rosie, Adam's teeth...lengthened behind his lips. He covered it, but the wolf-gleam in his eyes did not transform them. Would the man make such a move, he would find Adam feasting on his organs after he relieved him of something very, very vital. God, he hoped Rosie knew what she was doing.

But the scent revealed something: Rosemary was calm and relaxed. Her scent did not reveal sweat or even panic...no fear, certainly. When she pulled out the heirloom, Adam saw it was silver and something in his brain, some instinctive fear reacted. He flinched, ever so slightly, unable to resist, before he caught himself, keeping any hint of flesh from touching it.

Who made the damn rules about silver? God help him, he had no clue. "Last Hand, then," he echoed with a grin at the Sheriff. "Who knows, Sheriff Gregory. I just might surprise ya," he added, trying to keep the heat off Rosemary. Lady luck, he thought...be true ad do not forsake them now. He made his expression blank as the cards were flicked out, divided between them. Slid against them...and then...

A pair. A PAIR. That was his big dramatic payoff. Two identical cards. It was a good pair! But still a pair. He tried not to scowl a bit, wondering if the great gods of fortune and chance were testing his poor, abused rear end now. And then the son of a bitch sheriff laid down a full house. There came the burgeoning of a growl from his throat, but Adam bit his lip inside, looking to Rosemary..

And holy shit. She'd read the cards like an old wizard could read the bones of a sacrifice. There it was. Right there before them. Victory. "That's the thing about luck, sheriff," Adam said, finding he could not resist. "You only need to be lucky one time. If you're smart with it." Adam tipped his head to the sheriff's departure.

"Did you hear that?" Rosie said finally. "He thinks you're pretty."

"Ain't I just? Though I prefer devilishly handsome, emphasis on the devilish and double emphasis on the handsome," Adam said. "Looks like you've set us up for life now. Long as we don't find there's an exchange rate for company scrip here to handle anything. Which...knowing our luck, is probably the- "

He stopped then. Looking at her. There was an invitation in Rosemary's words. Not subtle, either. He looked into her eyes, feeling a stirring in him. In Fenrir's name, how long had it been since he had known the company of another that way? He caught her scent, underneath that of the road, his eyes boring into hers.

"I was hoping that might be cause you like me," he murmured, his smile growing to show his clear and obvious interest. "What say we hold off on that dinner, till we've cleaned ourselves up with a bath...and then?"

He leaned in, lips by her ear. "We can save dinner till we've worked up a hell of an appetite..."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Rosemary let out a laugh as she rested her hand on his arm for a moment. "Of course I like you, Adam. I'd probably still be out in that desert if it weren't for you. You ought to like someone who saves you," she replied, letting her fingers drift down until they were dancing across he knuckles of his hand. "And since I helped you make a little money, I expect you must like me too, hm?"

Winking, she gestured for him to follow her up the stairs to the second floor, where a hall of closed doors concealed some mysterious thumpings and bumpings, punctuated here and there by a whoop or a moan. The door to number thirteen was open however, as was the door to the bathroom across the hall. In the former, a broad old mestizo woman with heavy brows was just finishing making up the bed. When the crone looked up to see the pair standing in the doorway, she scowled.

"Room is for one only," she insisted in heavily accented English.

Rosie stared back aghast. "But all the other rooms are taken?" She wasn't quite sure of that, but considering all the closed doors it seemed a fair guess.

The old woman shook her head, but held out one hand. "You work, you pay extra. Twenty cents."

It took a minute for Rosemary to understand what the woman meant, but as soon as the words landed she flushed red. "I'm not working! He's...he's my husband!" Immediately the gambler wrapped one arm around Adam's waist, and rising up on her toes she planted what she hoped was a sweet, wifely kiss on his rough cheek. But the old woman seized on her left hand and, noticing its ring-less condition, was unimpressed.

Scowling, Rosie finally gave up and fished the dimes out of her pocket. But before dropping them into the crone's open palm, she pulled them back a moment. "This cover two baths too then?"

The crooked old maid let out a cackling laugh. "Sure, but only hot water for one. Is ready now if you want." Pinching the coins out of Rosemary's fingers, the beldame departed like some grim spirit, heading down the hall to torment some other poor couple.

The gambler grumbled out a curse as she removed her hat and serape, revealing a surprisingly voluptuous frame in a man's worn gray shirt underneath. There was also no mistaking the shoulder holster containing her LeMat, nestled warmly against her left breast. She didn't trust leaving any of her other belongings in the room in the meantime, and once she'd set aside her serape and hat she turned back towards Adam. "Bathtime then?"

With a grin of challenge, she dared him to follow her across the hall, where a deep tub full of steaming water dominated the little room. When they were both inside Rosemary shut and latched the door behind them, giving the bounty hunter a rather predatory look.

"Well now, Mr. Adam," she began slowly, laying side the holster and beginning to unbutton her shirt. Her mouth twisted as she took on a mocking drawl, reminiscent of Sheriff Gregory. "That there tub doesn't look quite big enough for the two of us. Might have to have a little duel to decide who gets it first."

Her shirt fell to the ground, soon followed by her trousers tumbling over the tops of her boots. When Rosie stepped barefoot out of these last accoutrements, she was wearing nothing more than a short chemise that was nearly transparent with wear. It did nothing to conceal her nipples, certainly hard with excitement considering the steamy warmth of the room, and wasn't even long enough to conceal the lower curve of her taught behind.

Despite the dirt and grime on her skin and the tangles in her hair, Rosemary's victory at the card table was more than enough to restore any confidence she had lost over the past few days, and as she took a step towards Adam she did so with all the grace of a queen in her finery. But before she could get within arm's reach of the bounty hunter she turned suddenly, and bent over the edge of the tub to test the water.

"Hm...a bit hot for my taste..."

 

[Vinaein]

At Rosemary's closeness to him, Adam could not resist an inclining flick of his head, the playful grin spreading over his face. "See, when you mention the money, it makes me sound a little shallow. Can't say it hurts, much, but..." his smirk grew as he kept her eyes with his own. "Brains and beauty's quite the combination, in addition to a proper silvery weakness in my heart for ladies with hair of fire." He returned the wink while he began to walk.

The scents and noises definitely told him what some were up to. And why not, the place was a saloon after all...ladies were plying their trade and lovers were enjoying themselves. Or pretending to from how quick some of those ended. With the elderly, dark-skinned woman scowling at them, Adam tried for the most charming and pleasant smile he could manage. He threw in a tip of his hat, free of charge. And then-

Wait, she said WHAT now?! Adam froze completely at the mention of husband. Her lips brushed his cheek and he grinned. "Thaaat's...right! Vows said before...a Father with a ring 'round the collar and everything!" Or was it a judge? "Wearing one of thise fancy, black robes! Hehe..." Nope, no dice, he thought. Well, say this for Rosie. She knew the value of a penny... "Clever ol' gal there," he mumbled as he removed his coat. He began to disarm, guns and knives stripped to be set aside and an admiring glance at the LeMat.

"You're damn right we're hittin' the baths, Rosie," he said. He rubbed his chin. "Could do with a shave, too," he said as he set his hat aside, revealing his neat black hair while Rosemary was glancing to him like she was the wolf and he was the hart...

"When it comes to duelin'....might not be too gentlemanly this time," his voice was low in his throat as he slid his shirt off, to reveal a muscled and scarred torso. He began to undo his trousers, letting them slip so he could be naked in the light of the room.

...and she was doing this on purpose, bending over to test the water.

'Bit hot for my taste," she said as she gave him a view of her backside. Adam was by her side instantly. "That so...?" He leaned a hand into the water, sighing rapturously at the heat. "Mmm, feels just right, but..." he leaned close, near to her, instinct and lust giving him some fair ideas...his hand slipping against her side.

"Ain't the only thing getting warm in here..." he whispered playfully, his roguish grin back on his face. "Not by far, Rosie..."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Rosemary could feel Adam's eyes on her bare ass, and her reflection in the bathwater smiled. She took her time in standing up straight, enjoying the feel of his rough hand on her side, his fingers just inches from where her breasts were swelling against the chemise. "If you're feeling warm, I'd tell you to take a few layers off," she remarked as her back straightened. "But looks like you're a few steps ahead of me."

Her eyes took their time in wandering over his well-sculpted form, noting his impressive manhood with a glitter of approval. It was obvious from the various scars adorning his body that the bounty hunter's life had been a hard one, and Rosie reached forward to brush her fingers over what looked like a bullet wound near his chest. "What happened here?" she asked, drawing close enough that the thin fabric of her shift was all that separated her sex from his. "Looks like something that could have killed you."

The gambler snaked her arm around his waist, feeling the smooth planes of muscle along his back, interrupted here and there by more scars. God, what had Adam gone through? Rosemary had known men like him in the past, had seen their scars and kissed them gently, the way she was kissing his now. But any body that had taken the kind of damage his had should have been well underground by now, and the bounty hunter was very much alive, judging by the way he was reacting to her touch.

Finally she brought her mouth to his, kissing him slow and sweet as her fingers twisted through his hair. Even though she hadn't dipped more than a hand in the bathtub, she was soaked between the legs, aching for him to take her right then and there. When she broke the kiss, her whiskey gaze was hot as fire as she stared into his eyes. "How long has it been since you had a woman, Adam?" she whispered, dropping her hand to wrap her fingers around his cock. It had been a reasonable amount of time since she'd been with a man herself, but some things one never forgot.

She stroked him at a steady pace as she began to hike up the bottom of her chemise, offering him a glimpse of her own hunger for him. Rosemary only released him to strip the shift off entirely, leaving herself as naked as he was before carefully sitting down on the edge of the tub. Once she'd determined it was heavy enough not to tip over on them both, the gambler slipped the bounty hunter a wink and leaned forward, taking the head of his cock into her mouth and teasing him with her tongue.

 

[Vinaein]

Adam's eyes did indeed linger on that lovely rear end of Rosemary's. Not only was she exquisite, she knew it. She carried herself with the strutting confidence of someone who knew she was gorgeous and conducted herself accordingly, his eyes gleaming over as he stared down at her, his hard hand running against her side. "What can I say, Miss Rosemary...? I like to think I've gotten good at predictin' a mood or two from you..." His voice was low, playful and teasing now.

Shen she took him in, she'd see a body honed by labor and training, hard and muscled. The sight in her eyes when she noted below didn't really do much to deflate his personal vanity admittedly, but Adam also had his scars. Mostly from knives, bullets...and claws. Some had been from 'training.' Three clawmarks adorned the back of his left shoulder and a little gash had its place at his hip...but the bullet wound...

"Ya might say some fellas tried to get me where it hurt...right at the heart in more ways than one," he murmured softly as he ran his hand to the mark. "...Hurt less'n you might think, Rosie. The betrayal hurt worse than that, I promise..." But he didn't want to think of this now.

What he wanted was Rosemary. Her arms around him...and he reciprocated in full. His face bent to hers, mouth finding her sweet lips as he slid is hands through the delicate red silk of her tresses, combing them almost delicately as he held it, hardening to the brushes of her fingers, burning with want. "Been quite a moon or two...I'll do my best..." he nipped her neck playfully., "to control myself, Rosemary..." He took in a breath as her fingers found him below, wrapped to him as his own fingers slid against her breast through the shift. He felt her there, and below, with surprisingly gentleness. He slid his hand against her sex, rubbing slow, firm...

It had been a while...but this was making it all worth the wait. Her scent was thick with arousal, her body flushed, wet below...and then she was nude, going down. He felt the heat and wetness of her mouth, the tongue teasing his shaft. He sighed and slid a hand into her hair.

Nothing smart he could think of to say now. Nothing except...

"Don't stop now..."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

At the back of her mind, Rosemary was sure there were those who would have been appalled at her behavior. Sliding to her knees like a whore before a man she'd known for less than twenty four hours...but she was high on her victory at the card table, and her judgment was exhausted from her ordeal of the past week. She really was grateful to Adam for both his help in the desert and downstairs, and since she needed every dollar she could get her hands on, what better way to show her gratitude?

Rosie kept her hand on Adam's hips as she began to take more of him into her mouth, sucking gently as her tongue began to stroke the sides of his shaft. She could feel his hand sliding through her hair, urging her gently but insistently forward, and she happily obliged, bobbing her head a little more quickly now. One hand slipped downward to toy with his balls, not just to tease him further but to feel when his release was imminent. It was at that moment, when she was sure the bounty hunter was right there on the edge, when Rosemary suddenly pulled off and away from him.

She'd originally intended to bring him to completion right then and there, but the longer she waited the more her own desire was growing, and the cock in her mouth was just too irresistible to a more demanding part of her anatomy. Staggering up to her feet again, the gambler threw her arms around Adam's neck and kissed him again, this time sliding her tongue into his mouth. One leg hitched over his hip, and Rosemary moaned as she felt the tip of his shaft rubbing against her own dripping sex.

"Adam!" His name was a hot, desperate whisper against his ear, followed by the woman's teeth grazing against his neck. "Please, I need this...it's been so long..."

In truth, she couldn't recall the last man she'd been with (understandable, considering the specimen before her now). Obviously no virgin would have shown as much eagerness as Rosemary was wantonly displaying now, but she hadn't had quite as many men as the other women currently in the hotel. At least, she hoped not.

 

[Vinaein]

Right now, Adam's mind was racing to catch up with his body. A woman like Rosemary and him? Hell, he had no idea what he'd done to deserve such good fortune after so much misery in his life. But he was hardly setting to complain about it now. With her knelt down, her mouth at the ready, his hand slid delicately into the red curtain of her hair, urging her on as his eyes drifted closed. A low sigh escaped his lips, his mouth curving upward to a smile as he kept her on.

He pushed with his hips on instinct, his low groan reaching her ears as he pushed at her mouth, sliding in between those fine lips of hers. He made a sound that might have been her name as he felt her suck at him. Some men might have been incensed at the boldness and the things she did...but Adam could only be entranced. The People did not take an ill view towards sensuality and he was delighted by the boldness and skill. he could feel it coming just as she stopped, looking down at her, with his grin growing.

"Now that...that's just cruel," he teased. "Not very friendly..." She was up, arms around him and he yanked her to him. His arm swere around her as he kissed with a wild passion, gliding his tongue over hers. He felt himself rub to the wet slit of her entrance below, his hand grabbing tight at her ass. He kissed her again, harder this time, even gently nipping her lip before he went to kiss and gently bite at her neck. He made her wait just a moment before his hips pushed and he slid himself within her. Her leg up, hands against her ass, he grabbed tight and began to move with firm, eager strokes...

Just as his eyes locked close on hers. And now there was no mistaking his utterance of her name.