The Only Rules That Matter: Legacy (Corsair and Madam Mim)

The noonday sun beat down on the dry, packed earth of the Texas badlands. Buzzards circled in the sky, wheeling on thermals and casting fleeting shadows on the figures below. Still and silent, the scattered men and horses lay where they had fallen in a crimson-spattered silence broken only by the lazy buzzing of flies. The buzzards did not hurry. They didn't need to. Their carrion below wasn't going anywhere.

One of the bodies twitched convulsively, clutching at an abdominal wound that oozed thick and crimson. A rattling groan of pain wheezed through cracked, blackened lips, and piercing blue eyes stared from a sunburnt face into the beaten iron sky. Caked with dust and crusted with blood, wearing a grey canvas duster over loose jeans and a loose cotton shirt, the aspiring corpse could have been a tall woman or a shorter man. A plain leather holster and plain boots added nothing to the identification.

"Gawddamn," the figure croaked, a raspy sound higher than most men but lower than most women. It pushed up on a wounded arm, making a strangled sound as it did, then collapsed back to the hard-packed dirt. Overhead, the buzzards watched unmoved.

"C'mon, Sam," the figure croaked. ""Y'gotta... gotta do this!" The voice broke into a hollow sound not really loud enough to be a scream as it pushed with a wounded leg. The figure slid a little, then moaned in pain again as it rolled over. Blood flowed thickly from wounds as it rolled, the clots ripping loose.

"Ah! Ah-ahlright, Sam," it gritted, groping ahead with a bloodstained glove. "Crawl. Crawl, 'r yehr gonna... gonna die." But it laid there, on the baked earth, gathering strength. Finally, painfully, it slowly began to drag itself towards the meager shelter of a large rock.

---

Leaning heavily against the scorching rock, Sam Cavendish worked the cylinder of a revolver and counted the cartridges. It was difficult to do, with greeting vision and shaking hands, but the consensus of the three attempts was that it was fully loaded. Six .45 ACP bullets.

Not enough. Not anywhere near enough. Not if the ambush party returned.

Memory returned with the thought, memory like a fever dream. Sam had been hired to lead a posse consisting of a Ranger and a half-dozen deputies to... to... That part of the memory was blurry, drowned by surprise and terror and the thunder of rifles. By the screams of men and horses, and the burning pain of bullets striking flesh, and a fall that ended in blackness.

"Not... enough..." Sam wheezed, slumping against the stone. "Kin... take a... a few o'... I' th' bastards... wit' me... but..."

Blearily, Sam saw or imagined movement in the distance. The pistol came up, jumping wildly in a weak, shaky fist. "Who... who's there..?"

If there was an answer, it went unheard. Weakened by blood loss and dehydration, the pistol tumbled from the gloved hand as Sam collapsed

The desert could be comforting. Away from the flow and bustle of every day life thinking was easier and it was...peaceful. The carrion birds indicated that not all was peaceful in the desert, however, and the lone figure traversing the landscape had been following them for nearly half an hour and paused when it came to the sight of the carnage. Dear God...what happened here? The figure moved more quickly but knew it was hopeless. Nobody could have survived such carnage as could be seen from yards away. Not even a horse had been spared.

Then a miracle happened in the form of a threat. The lone survivor was in bad shape and made weak threats, brandishing a revolver even more weakly. There was no answer to the threat, only a mildly incredulous stare, before they passed out. A sigh and the figure dismounted before coming over to check and see if the survivor had died. Another surprised look at the appearance of a pulse, faint but there.

Sam wasn't aware of being carefully picked up, or of being put on a horse. Occasionally she would come to for a few moments to feel strong arms around her, helping her limp body balance in the saddle before she slipped away again. When she came to again she was somewhere dark and cool and quiet and a hand was pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. When she finally regained consciousness she was still in the dark, cool place but there was the quiet murmur of voices which seemed to be fading in and out of intelligible language.

"It's been...I don't know if she'll..."

"Well we have to try."

"Tsidiiligai...all I can."

"Well I mean look. She's stirring now."

"Oh!" One hand rested firmly on her shoulder, being careful not to touch the wounds which had been cleaned and stitched up, to prevent her from rising if she tried. "You almost left us, little one."

"She's not a child, Ma." This second voice, somewhere away from Sam's immediate person, had sounded testy.

"Well she's had quite a time of it," the voice hovering over Sam argued. A kind-looking face swam into view as Sam's focus slowly sharpened. "You were nearly dead when she found you; lucky the Great Spirit called her out to the desert to find you."

"Oooor I went out to the desert myself and followed some buzzards."

"Respect your elders and hush." The second voice snorted but said nothing more. "She just hasn't accepted her place in the great circle yet, that's all. My name is Liluye; I'm the medicine woman for our village and you're in my home. My daughter Tsidiiligai found you miles and miles from here--"

"White people call me Jackie."

"Or Birdie."

A sigh. "Ma, you're literally the only person who calls me Birdie."

"Well it's just so cute! And I thought I told you to hush." Another sigh from Jackie's corner of the house. "Anyway, the Great Spirit lead her out into the desert to find you and she brought you back here. It's a miracle you survived your wounds, let alone traveling so far without treatment."

Jackie's face loomed above her in the gloom now. It was nearly impossible to see her freckles, but even in the dark it was hard to miss that unlike her people she had green eyes. "What happened? Who shot you?"

"Tsidiiligai I thought I told you to hush! Now isn't the time for questions. Say something else." This last wasn't a request but a dare. Jackie set her jaw and disappeared from Sam's view. "You just say what happened in your own time." Liluye smiled gently as she returned her voice to a gentler tone. "Just promise me you won't try to sit up. It's been a few days but you've still got a lot of healing left to do."

Consciousness washed over Sam like a tide, flowing and ebbing and slowly rising. The first thing she noticed was the pain. It wasn't as burning sharp as it had been before, when the bullets had plowed into her flesh and when she'd felt her arm crack as she fell, but it hurt bad enough that she longed to sink back into oblivion. And there were voices.

As she realized that, her eyes fluttered open and she struggled to rise. Where was she? The bandits - or whoever it was that had ambushed them - had they returned? Captured her to... to... The unfinished thought sent her clawing for her irons by reflex, and her heart sank as she encountered obly blankets and bare ski .

A gentle hand pushed her back down, murmuring soothing words. Her vision swam in the dim light, trying to focus on a kindly-looking woman. Or... was she younger? Or was she a different woman? Both injuns, though, and that realizatiin made her struggle to rise again - she'd heard tales of what the redskins'd do to white folk. But the gentle hand restrained her again, and the gentle voice (voices?) said... something. She couldn't quite follow it, any more than she could quite focus on the faces above her. And then everything faded into blackness.

The pattern continued for, well, she couldn't rightly say how long. It was just periods of blackness, awakening to the taste of a weak broth spooned into her mouth. Or the feeling of damp cloths bathing her fevered brow or ckeaning her wounds. Or the sound of random words. Infection. Fever.

It was the fourth day when the fever broke. Sam's eyes fluttered open and she peered around. Her expression was wary as she took in her surroundings, but she bit back the thrill of fear. Yes, she was naked on a pallet bed - well, naked except for the blankets that civered her. But, if they'd meant her harm, she doubted they'd have nursed her back to health first.

Shifting, she tried to sit up. But her arm stabbed with pain as she pushed up, demonstrating the wisdom of the splint on her forearm. Hissing as the cracked arm throbbed, she slipped back down onto the pallet and stared at the other occupant. A squaw with the young face she'd seen or hallucinated. "Ah," she said, voice scratchy, "Ah... where am Ah?"

There was a groan from the corner. Jackie looked over her shoulder and widened her eyes. Setting down the shuttle with which she was weaving she scrambled across the dirt floor to the pallet bed. Gently she put a hand on the cowboy's--cowgirl's?--chest and pushed her back down into bed. Wordlessly she began checking the wounds to see if any of the stitches had popped.

"Ah... Ah... Where am Ah?" Her voice was parched and Jackie moved again.

"You're safe on the edge of the desert," she answered calmly. She lifted a cup to her lips. "Here, drink some water. God knows how long you were out there. My name's Jackie, if you've forgotten that conversation. Jackie Sparrow."

Jackie waited until the stranger had drunk her fill before speaking again. "My mom's outside washing your clothes again. She's stitched up all the holes and this is the third time she's washed them trying to get all the blood out." She looked carefully at the cowboy, suspicious. "What sort of person are you that you're getting shot at?" It took her a moment to realize this probably sounded very rude. "Sorry, that was backwards. What sort of people were shooting at you? And all those men for that matter; it's a miracle even you survived."

Head swimming, throat dry and burning, Sam coyldn't have put up much if a struggle even if she'd wanted to. So she sank back onto the pallet bed once more, and gratefully accepted the cup of... tea? Vegetable broth? Whatever it was, it tasted wonderful. It required an act of will to sip at it, letting the warm liquid trickle down her parched throat and settle in her shrunken stomach, since every instinct screamed for her to just gulp it down.

"Ah... Ah'm much obliged, ma'am," Sam finally said, voice sounding more nirmal. Still weak, mind. But less croaky and ragged. Head sagging back against the pillow, she smiled at Jackie. "Least Ah reckon Ah kin do is pay no nevermind ta how y'all ask yer questions." Her eyes closed for a moment, as if the very act if speaking were exhausting.

"M'name's Sam. Sam Cavendish, an' Ah'm a bounty hunter an' a tracker. Those men Ah was with, did... did any o' 'em survive?" A silent shake of Jackie's head confirmed Sam's suspicions. "They was, well, there was Art Davis, one o' th' Rangers. An', an' Sherrif Sean Young, an' four deputies. Th' Ranger done hired me ta guide 'em ta th' Triple-S Ranch."

She closed her eyes, hearing the roar if the guns again. "Don't rightly know who killled 'em. Who tried ta kill me. But Ah reckon it'd be likely ta be Danny Beckett. He's th' owner o' th' Triple-S, an' th' Ranger was carryin' a warrant fer his arrest."

"Well nice to meet you, Sam Cavendish. Really though, call me Jackie not ma'am. My ma's a ma'am, I'm not a ma'am." She sat next to the low bed and her eyes flicked over her as though trying to find more injuries while Sam told her what happened. "I know the Triple-S. Nasty piece of work. Beckett collects First Tribes scalps like any sane person would collect animal heads, displays them like hunting trophies." She shook her head. "I never thought they'd finally nail him on something."

Jackie looked over her again and sat back on her heels. "So you're law, huh?" Her eyes stopped at her blanket-covered chest for a bare moment. "Not that it's any of my business, but do you mind me asking whether you tell people Sam's short for Samuel, or Samantha? White folks don't really seem too keen on women protecting them, even if they can do it better than men." She folded her arms over her own chest as though irked. Jackie herself didn't dress like a woman either, but opted instead for faded jeans and a hide shirt which left her naval exposed with its uneven hem. Her feet were bare but a dusty pair of black boots and a hat sat by the door next to Sam's.

While the law woman talked she pulled back the blanket and checked over her again, gently applying salves and pastes where they were needed. Sam had been gutshot, but two bullets had torn through the meat of her thigh and one had lodged in her breast, barely missing her heart. There would be a scar there in addition to the few she already had, but Liluye had kept her stitches as tidy and close as she could to minimize the scarring. Jackie felt her forehead but the fever appeared to have broken for good. It seemed safe for her to move just a little bit, with a lot of help.

"Do you want me to help you bathe?" she offered. "Or do you want to sleep some more? Ma's orders I'm not supposed to pester you with too many questions until you can sit up."

"So y'all know th' Triple-S, huh?" Sam winced as she shifted on the pallet bed. "Ah jes know his rep, an' rumors Ah've heard. Folk say he's a conjure-man an' a devil worshipper. Don't rightly know what th' warrant was fer, though."

Jackie looked over her again and sat back on her heels. "So you're law, huh?"

She shifted again, uncomfortable under the other woman's gaze. "Nah, Ah ain't the law." There was a touch of bitterness in her voice. "Jus' a bounty hunter. Women cain't be th' law - folks won't let'm."

The Indian woman -Jackie - continued to stare, eyes tracing the outlines of her rangy frame beneath the blanket. "Not that it's any of my business, but do you mind me asking whether you tell people Sam's short for Samuel, or Samantha? White folks don't really seem too keen on women protecting them, even if they can do it better than men."

"Ah don't rightly say it's short fer anythin'," she answered, stomping down a thrill of jealousy as she looked at Jackie. "Ah ain't ne'er fibbed 'bout who Ah am, but it ain't mah fault if'n folks take me fer someone else."

Once, she remembered - when she was a little girl - she'd hoped to grow up pretty. But she'd been able to pass for a boy when she was young, and she'd grown up hard and lean. It was an advantage in her profession - folk didn't take ladies seriously as bounty hunters, and she'd had to shoot folk once or twice over that. But looking at Jackie, slim and strong but in no ways able to be mistaken for a man, that little girl she'd been seethed in resentment.

All of which meant she was caught off-guard when Jackie drew back the blanket. "Hey!" she protested. "What y'all do in'?"

It turned out that she was just checking the various stitches and dressings and splints that covered her body. Sam stared at them, appalled and - deep down, where she'd never admit it - heartbroken. Sure, she'd buried that childhood dream of being pretty. But staring at her hard, angular limbs and small breasts and the terrible bruises and ugly stitches... She gritted her teeth against the sob that threatened to well out, and turned her head till Jackie pulled the blanket back over her.

"Do you want me to help you bathe?" she offered. "Or do you want to sleep some more? Ma's orders I'm not supposed to pester you with too many questions until you can sit up."

The injun woman's hand was cool on her forehead, and her touch made Sam's skin tingle, somehow. "Ah..." No she thought, bitterly, Ah don't want y'all helpin' me. Bad enough Ah gotta look at me.. But what she said was "Sure, if'n y'all don' mind. Ah reckon Ah kin use one."

"White people are usually quick to put anything out of their realm of experience down as witchcraft," Jackie pointed out as a shrug. "But...our people say he's an evil shaman too. Nobody knows how he does it though." She looked her over again and sat back on her heels. "So you're law, huh?" She crinkled her nose when Sam explained the situation. "Typical," she spat, shaking her head. "Well I mean, at least you're a bounty hunter. Lotsa women aren't even allowed to be that."

Without another word she pulled back the blanket to expose Sam's naked body. She was lean, her breasts small, but Jackie liked that in a woman of action. Some men had refused to take her seriously because of her soft curves, the feminine swell of her breasts and hips, until she'd kicked their asses. Hard and small was a more practical build for someone in Sam's line of work and Jackie liked practical. The bounty hunter, however, got defensive and protested when the blanket was thrown back. Jackie raised an eyebrow but didn't look up from her work.

"Saving your ass again and making sure the infection doesn't spread. Relax, kemosabe." She smiled and shook her head gently before offering Sam help with a bath. Gingerly she wrapped her unsplinted arm around her neck and sat next to her on the pallet. "Don't fight me on this, alright? Your pride ain't worth the pain, trust me."

Carefully she slid one arm around Sam's waist and the other behind her knees, picking her up to carry her bridal-style over to the corner of the dimly lit hut where a shallow tub had been filled with water. Slowly and with great care she lowered Sam into the water before kneeling next to the tub. Looking her over then looking at the surface of the water where bits of dried herb floated, she pursed her lips and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"Guess I shoulda offered a bath first," she muttered. "I've never been as good at this as Ma has. Just keep the splint out of the water."

With a shrug she grabbed a washcloth and a cake of soap, lathering it up before gently and carefully scrubbing Sam down. Jackie tried not to let her eyes linger anywhere too long, aware that Sam may be self-conscious about her injuries. Plus nobody likes getting stared at. But she had to admit at least to herself that she was glad for the excuse to touch her. Sam's arms were well-muscled, strong, as were her legs. Her back was shapely and her breasts were cute, her stomach well defined. As she worked the washcloth lower though, Jackie couldn't help but smirk a little.

"It's still just so weird to me that you people don't shave this," she said with a small smile as two washcloth-covered fingers slid along her slit with the help of the soap, and couldn't say she didn't enjoy it. "My people, we shave off all of our hair. It's weird to me you don't shave off any." She chuckled and handed the soaped up washcloth to Sam. "And you can move your arm enough to wash your own ass, I think. Let me know if you need help." She sat by the little tub to wait for Sam to finish before helping her wash the grime and blood out of her hair then gingerly lifting her out and wrapping her in a towel before setting her back down on the bed.

"I ah...I have to put those poultices back on once you're dry." Jackie smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Ma's the medicine woman, not me. She's hoping to have you well enough to walk to bathe in the creek by the end of the week though. Want me to comb out your hair for you?"

Sam yelped, just a little, as Jackie picked her up. Part of her wanted to struggle and fight, insist she didn't need help. The rest of her knew that was just her fool pride talking, though. The way she felt, she wasn't sure she could stand under her own power. Besides, if she was giing to be honest, it felt kinda nice. Jackie was pleasantly rounded and soft over her hard muscles, and Sam was glad of the bath water for another reason. It hid the embarrassing dampness between her thighs.

Still, though, it was an odd experience to get bathed by someone else. Nice, but awkward. The sort of thing that she might have appreciated more if it had been voluntary, but which she just found frustrating as an invalid. But then, Jackie's cloth-covered fingers slid between her thighs, and Sam had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping. "Ah... y'all what?" she managed, hoping the other woman would taje her sudden tension for discomfort. "Y'all shave? But..."

She was suddenly grateful for the washcloth that slapped into her bare skin, because it distracted her from wondering what it would feel like. Being shaved and touching herself. Wondering how Jackie might... She bit that thought off, hard, as she scrubbed and then washed the grime out if her hair. Once she'd wirn it long, like pa had said her mother had dine. But there weren't no place fer long hair in a man's world, so she'd sadly cut her braids off. The shaggy mane she wore now, kept trim by barbers, was barely shiulder kength.

Jackie helped her back out of the tub and wrapoed a towel around her before carrying her back to the pallet bed. "Yeah, Ah hope Ah am, too," she said. "No offense, cause y'all have been plenty kind, but... well, Ah reckin Ah ain't no good at bein' helpless." The offer to comb her hair out brought a smile to her lips, though. "Sure. Ah appreciate that."

Settling back, she stared lazily at the ceiling. "Where am Ah?" she asked again. "Ain't no reservations in these here parts, but..." She stopped. What was she going to say? That Jackie didn't seem a savage? "Y'all... livin' alone, out here?"

Jackie chuckled when Sam seemed surprised and a little uncomfortable at the revelation that her tribe shaved their body hair. "Yeah," she confirmed. "Everything but our heads. See?" She pulled up the leg of her jeans to reveal one smooth, hairless leg. "Touch it if you want. It's really soft."

Once she'd gotten Sam out of the tub and an offer to comb her hair had been accepted, Jackie sat with her back against the wall and gently pulled the bounty hunter to lean her back against her chest. She opened the towel to let the wounds air dry--and probably for selfish reasons if she were honest with herself, though taking advantage of a wounded woman would have gone too far indeed--before reaching for a comb. Carefully she worked it through Sam's hair, working out the tangles, before reaching for a brush and proceeding to brush it dry.

"You've got some real pretty hair," she murmured, pulling the brush through then fluffing it out with her fingers to get air through to dry it. "It's a shame you cut it all off. Fucking men." She shook her head.

Sam asked where she was, pointing out that there weren't any reservations nearby. "Nah, we ain't alone. We're on the outskirts of my village. You're up in the prairies, bout twenty miles outside Kermit. We don't need a res to survive; we're them wild imjins you hear about who raid towns, rape all the pretty white women then take their scalps." She was only able to keep a straight face for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"Oh man, your face! Relax, kemosabe!" Jackie tugged a lock of Sam's hair gently. "Don't believe everything you read in the newspapers. In fact, don't believe half what you read in the newspapers, least not about Indians or blacks. Anyone any shade of brown, really. They always like to assume the worst and lump all of us in with the few crazies. We may not be on a reservation but we're perfectly civilized. Think you'd be alive and on the mend if we weren't?"

Without waiting for an answer, Jackie put the brush down and reached for the bowl of poultice. She kept Sam leaning against her back-to-chest as she spread the paste over her wounds where it had been washed away. After this was done she wiped off her fingers and began to gently but firmly massage Sam's shoulders, then her good arm from her bicep all the way down to her fingers.

"I can get your legs if you want," she offered softly as she pressed her thumb into the heel of Sam's good hand. "I find a lot of patients like it when I rub them down. Keeps their muscles from getting stiff, makes recovery and movement easier on them."

Despite the teasing, Sam found hersekf relaxing into Jackie. Her body was soft against hers, with a core of hard muscke beneath. Shamefully, she found herself wondering how sbe would feel with her shirt off. With those beautiful brown breasts touching her skin, and... Sam jerked, pushing the sinful thought aside, and was grateful Jackie took it as a reaction th the comment about "wild injuns".

"Yeah," Sam mumbled, feeling a flush crawl over her cheeks and down her breasts. "Ah reckon that, with mah line o' work, Ah outta know better than ta believe wild stories. Ain't like us whites got clean, pure hands or nuthin'. Ah reckon most folks is jes' folks, a-tryin' ta get by, an' Ah apologize if'n Ah've given offence. T'weren't mah intention. Y'all ain't bedn nuthin' but kind."

Jackie's fingers began exploring her skin then, smearing something on her wounds that stung and then felt cool and pleasant. This was followed by a gentle massage that left the bounty hunter sighing in cintented pleasure and desperately trying to ignore the tingling dampness between her legs. Damnit, it weren't right to have... feelings like that! And this kind (gorgeous) woman'd be horrified if she knew! It weren't natural™, thinkin' about anither woman like that!

"I can get your legs if you want."

"Huh? Wha?"" Sam's eyes flew ooen at that, wide and startled. "Mah... mah legs?" Her pulse hammered away, but Jackie explained that it was to loosen up stiff muscles. "Ah... that is..." God, would she notice? Or would she think she just hadn't dried off? She really wanted that massage, but... "uhm... yeah. If...if'n y'all don't... don't mind."

Don't let her notice don't let her notice please God don't let her notice.

"Nah man," Jackie said with a shrug. "People've said way worse things to my face. I just like to mess around is all."

Sam seemed hesitant about her legs being massaged, then finally settled on it. "Don't feel obliged if you sunny want it," she said, though she helped Sam lay back on her back on the bed.

Jackie worked a firm but gentle pressure with strong fingers along the arch of one foot. Gradually she continued the same way up her calf, then to her thigh. She did, in fact, notice the arousal glistening on her very inner thigh and the sweet, tangy scent told her it wasn't just water. Wordlessly Jackie worked her way up the other leg and by the time she was back at her thighs Sam only seemed to be in worse shape. Jackie herself wondered whether the bounty hunter tasted as sweet as she smelled... But that just wouldn't be right.

"You just woke up," she pointed out gently, rubbing her thigh. "Not that I don't think you're pretty, but wait until you don't depend on me for everything, then we'll talk. I find a situation like yours tends to make patients more fond of their caretaker than they would otherwise be. Bern done a few bad turns that way." The Indian smiled gently then, selfishly, placed two slow, gentle kisses on the inside of each thigh near her sex.

"Do you want me to turn you over and get your back?" Jackie offered casually from between her thighs, massaging them and wishing it weren't so skeevy to just take her right then and there. "Or do you want me to give you a few minutes alone?" Still feeling like a creep when she wished it weren't perverted to watch Sam touch herself without her consent.

Oh God she'd noticed. The realizatiin made Sam want to crawl into herself and die, and then hearing Jackie say she was pretty was worse. Ignore how it was a patent lie, probably trying to make her feel better, it just made her feel worse. Because now she wanted... what? Even if Jackie was really saying what she thought she was saying, it wasn't like they could do anything. She'd grown up in a farm, and understood the basic mechanics. Two women just didn't have the right... parts.

And tben Jackie kissed her thighs, and made a sort of shuddering gasp at the feel of her lips. "Do you want me to turn you over and get your back?" she asked, making Sam's eyes go wide at the feel of warm breath on her... nethers. "Or do you want me to give you a few minutes alone?"

She was already blushing, but she tried to blush harder at the implication. "Ah..." What, Sam? Want to get it over with? Want her to stay? Want her to go? Wish you weren't such a pervert? "Ah... reckon Ah... need a... minute." She managed not to make a cisappointed sound as the Indian rose, and her blue eyes followed the sway of the woman's hips as she left the room. That sway was still on her mind as she slid a finver into her slippery sex

"Oh God," she hissed, sliding her finger in deep. Thoughts of Jackie returned, and she tried to imagine some man. The Ranger, he'd been good-looking. But the image kept changing to the way Jackie had looked doe,wn there and the way her fingers and lips had felt and it was a sin what she was thinking but as her fingers filled her pussy and her thumb brushed and rubbrd her clit it was brown fingers she imagined and not... not...

Sam made a low keening sound, biting her lip as her orgasm broke. For a brief moment all her doubts and confusion vanished into bliss. But that faded, leaving her with shame and guillt and the memory of Pastor Smith's long-ago lecture about "sinful, unnatural lusts". "Gawd," she whimpered. "Ah... Ah'm so, so sorry."

But all she heard was that long-ago lecture, and she knew God had no forgveness for her.

Jackie was of two minds; on the one hand disappointed she couldn't stay and watch, on the other aroused by the idea of Sam touching herself. With a sigh she stood. "Holler when you're done. Well I mean, you will I suppose, but you know what I mean." She grinned cheekily and left. Damned morals.

It wasn't watching if the door was closed anyway. Jackie leaned against the outside wall near the door and she could hear Sam, though muffled. The sounds of her fingers sliding over her sex were too soft to hear but she could hear Sam's moans and her orgasm. Jackie bit her lip and leaned her head back against the wall, wishing she could be there. She licked her lips, imagining how the bounty hunter might taste, how she might feel pulsing around her fingers. There was that toy she had...

Sam called for her and she took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably before going inside. She'd have to have some time to herself later as well. "Gotta admit I'm surprised," she said as she knelt next to Sam and helped her turn onto her stomach. She'd been too lost in her own imagination to hear her pleas with her own God. "A lot of white girls are all 'God' this and 'hell' that; credit for accepting yourself for who you are naturally." She smiled and pressed her fingertips into Sam's shoulders. "My dad thought the same way they did. But then, my dad was also a bank robber who got himself shot, so what did he know? Thank God I'm not Christian." She chuckled and began moving her hands across Sam's back. "Does your family know?"

Jackie reentered, and it was clear from her expression and from her earlier comments that the Indian woman knew exactly what she'd done. The realization made her blush furiously, and just want to die. And wasn't that strange? She'd faced down gangs before, armed men trying to kill her, without flinching. But an attractive woman who was commenting casually on her pleasuring herself? Mortifying. Maybe someday she'd understand herself.

"Gotta admit I'm surprised," she said as she knelt next to Sam and helped her turn onto her stomach.

Sam grunted and winced as she rolled over, forgetting for a moment and trying to push with her splinted arm. Oh, good. She was going to keep talking about it. "Cain't think why," she muttered, voice bitter. "Ain't like y'all didn't remark on... on it, or nuthin'."

But damn it, the injun just wouldn't shut up! "A lot of white girls are all 'God' this and 'hell' that; credit for accepting yourself for who you are naturally." She smiled and pressed her fingertips into Sam's shoulders. "My dad thought the same way they did. But then, my dad was also a bank robber who got himself shot, so what did he know? Thank God I'm not Christian."

Irritation flared in Sam's gut, fueled by self-loathing and warring with the pleasant sensations of strong fingers working the tension out of her back. "Y'all ain't... Christian?" She latched on to that for a moment. "That's... but...." She knew, of course, that many Injuns had been heathens, once. Missionaries did their work, though, and most of them had converted. She thought. "Well, to each their own, Ah reckon. Cain't say Ah think that much about it, m'self." Only when she found herself watching other women, sinful longing in her heart. Only when she remembered that the Lord would see her as an abomination.

She chuckled and began moving her hands across Sam's back. "Does your family know?"

"What, that Ah don't spend a whole lotta time thinkin' bout religion? Or that y'all ain't Christian?" It was a deliberate misinterpretation of the woman's words, because she had a horrible feeling she knew what Jackie was really asking. And it was something she didn't want to admit to anyone, not since things had gone so badly wrong with Mary. "Ain't rightly come up, either way. Mah pa's a good man, but he always reckoned thet God'd rather see a man work ta keep his family fed than anything else. An' Ah doubt y'all've met him."

Sam misinterpreted what she was saying and Jackie raised her eyebrows at her bare back. It was an uncomfortable subject for her, she supposed. With a shrug she moved her hands lower down her back. Still, at least her dad was cool about it.

"Well good for you guys," she replied with a nod. "So many so-called 'good Christians' will throw their kids out of the house or worse. I'm glad your Pa's supportive. Honest work is good work, and that's all that matters."

It had struck her as funny, however, that Sam seemed more concerned that she wasn't a Christian. "You really expected off-res Apaches to be Catholic or something, kemosabe?" she teased. "My dad was white, Christian, so I've got a weird jumble up in my own head. But he died when I was nine so for the most part it's just been our own religion up there. Glad you don't see the need to convert the Godless heathens though. Good on ya." She patted her back before pressing her fingers gently into Sam's taut rear. "You got the knottiest ass I ever seen, man!" she laughed. It was a nice ass, though. "Is that where you store all your tension? Days in the saddle and it all just builds up there?"

She dutifully worked out the knots in her muscles, though, and worked her way down the back of her legs before she was finished. Jackie held Sam's splinted arm so she wouldn't forget again as they worked to turn her over. She covered her with the blanket then held a cup to her mouth.

"Here, drink some of this," she offered, "it'll help you sleep. Ma'd kill me if she knew I'd let you stay awake this long, and you've still got a lot of recovering to do."

Now the Injun was talking about her ass, which also made her uncomfortably. Particularly the way Jackie called it "naughty" in that playful voice of hers while her strong hands kneaded and rubbed her. She tried not to think about those hands slipping beneath her, tried not to imagine those fingers stroking into her and exploring her, and in the end it was all she could do to manage to not grind down into the grass-stuffed mat beneath her belly.

God, it was bad enough she had these unnatural urges. Did she have to be filthy enough to want to drag another woman down with her? Drag this heathen Apache down, their bodies moving together as...

It came as a relief when Jackie helped her roll over. The pain of hef wounds provided a distraction. But even though the massage had been an ordeal in one sense, it had also been a blessing. She still hurt like hell, but the massage had loosened up tense muscles and eased that pain down to a dull roar. And the blanket was soft against her skin, and the steaming cup of whatever it was went down easily. Tired as she was, she didn't even mind the bitterness.

"Well," she mumbled sleepily, "cain't let yer ma kill y'all." She yawned, hard. "Not much thanks, if'n Ah did that." Another yawn, and her speech softened and slurred. "Mah pa'd kill me, if'n he knew Ah still... still... liked girls. Cain't... cain't nobody... nobody know. It's..." Another yawn. "It's... wrong... it is..."

Then the only sounds she made was soft snores.

"There must be justice," a voice said.

Sam jerked awake. She was back on the baked earth, flies buzzing and buzzards circling. The dead surrounded her still. "Ah... Ah cain't..." she gasped out, trying to rise. "Ah'm... dyin..." It had been a dream. Jackie. Help. All of it, just the fever dream if a dying woman.

"The dead cry out for justice, Samantha Cavendish. The dead cry out fir justice, and the living know not that they need it."

She couldn't move. "Justice? Ah cain't even help mahself!"

"Justice does not exist, Samantha, save in the soul. There is no justice. There is just us."

"Ah... whoe'er y'all are... Ah'm dyin'. Ah... cain't..."

"Justice. For those who have it not."

"Ah..."

"Justice. For those who require it."

"But... Ah cain't!"

"YOU CAN."

Sam's eyes snapped open, the final words of the dream vouce still thundering in her ears. It was dark in the cabin, and dark outside. Gasping for breath, she carefully managed to sit uoright. "Justice," she murmured, thinking back to how she'd once longed to be a Ranger. "Justice." She'd always stoid up to bullies, and had wanted to wear a badge and protect people. Right up until reality had crushed that dream.

"Ah reckon," she said to herself, "that y'all have been moonin' about an' feelin' sorry fer yerself a mite too much Sam Cavendish. It don't matter what th' preacher thinks, er anyone else? Never did. It matters what y'all do, an' why. That's what pa said, ain't it. An' y'gotta heal up, don'cha? Cause that Beckett fella's out there, an' it was probably his men what dry gulched ya. An' th' six good men what ain't goin' home no more."

She sat in the darkness, looming at her hand. Then she loojed up, staring at the moin through the smoke hole in the roof. A slow smile spread across her lips. "Justice."

Jackie wasn't sure what had stirred her from sleep, or even that she wasn't sleeping anymore. There was a faint noise. Mumbling. It wasn't coming from the pretty girl who had fallen asleep with her head on Jackie's breast. It was the bounty hunter. Finally Jackie opened her eyes.

"...is men what dry gulched ya," Sam muttered to herself. "An' th' six good men what ain't goin' home no more. ...Justice"

The hell was she going on about?? Jackie turned her head to see Sam sitting up in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. Oh God the fever had probably returned and made her delirious. Carefully she unwound her arm from Onawa's shoulders and tried to slide out from beneath her without waking her up. Her on-again off-again lover--who was completely insane, if she were honest, but the sex was good--had always been a heavy sleeper. Onawa simply mumbled in her sleep and rolled over, blankets sliding down to her waist. Jackie breathed a sigh of relief and padded, naked, over to the bed where Sam was sitting up.

"Hey," she whispered, following her gaze briefly to make sure nothing was actually wrong. "You dreaming or something? You gotta get some more sleep, kemosabe." Jackie felt her forehead. A little warm but not what she'd been expecting. The tea by now was only barely lukewarm but that wouldn't hinder its effects. She picked up the cup again and held it to her lips. "C'mon, drink up. Justice in the morning, I promise." Gently she laid Sam back and covered her back up, kissing her forehead and singing soft Apache lullabies until the bounty hunter fell asleep then returning back to her own bed and slipping quietly back to Onawa.


"Some dream you had last night, kemosabe." Jackie smiled up at her from the small cookfire. Breakfast was almost done when Sam awoke again. "You remember any of that?"

"I don't." Onawa still wasn't dressed and had made sure the blanket was just barely covering her breasts. "I just remember you coming back to bed." She kept glancing over to Sam and smiling suggestively. Jackie hadn't been as successful upon her return in not waking her up. "Don't worry, we were nice and quiet for you."

This was why Jackie could never take a relationship with her seriously; sure, she got around too but at least she didn't advertise herself like a prostitute, walking around with her tits out. She wanted to be a whore, then fine, she'd treat her like a whore. "Knock it off will you?" Jackie rolled her eyes.

"Tsidiiligai..." Onawa pouted. "I don't know why you have to make such a fuss about it. I just lov--"

"Don't even." Jackie threw her dress to her. "Don't you have chores to do at your own house? If I wanted to be manipulated I'd go live with my grandma." With much grumbling and pouting which eventually turned into snitting at one another Onawa finally dressed and left. Jackie sighed and shook her head. "Sorry about her. She's pretty much an insane hooker. Likes the prestige that comes with a two-spirit but otherwise wouldn't want anything to do with me, so she uses me and I use her then it always turns into a big thing." She rolled her eyes. "Hungry?"

"Mah dream?" Sam tenatively stretched, taking care to avoid hurting herself. "Yeah, Ah..."

"I don't," announced another voice. It belonged to another Indian woman, who was taking pains to flaunt herself as she eyed the bounty hunter. Sam started to speak, then fell silent as the two women bickered. It was embarrasing, really, being an uninvolved party in the quarrel, and she (carefully) rolled onto her side to try and give them a little privacy.

Finally though, the stranger woman left, and Jackie apologized. Grunting, Sam rolled back over. "Nah, don't worry. Ah'm a guest in yore house, after all. One thing, though: Ah reckon Ah knew every word y'all said, but Ah'm hanged if'n Ah unnerstood it. Wot's a... two-spirit, you said? Oh, an' Ah'm hungry all right. H reckon that's a good sign."

Meat sizzled in a pan over the fire and Jackie plated it along with corn and peppers that had been cooked along side it so the taste of the grease had spread to the vegetables. "Hope you like jackrabbit."

As she handed the plate to Sam she asked what a two-spirit was. Jackie looked for the right words to describe it. "Well...I mean, two-spirit isn't the exact word for me. But my people don't have a word for it so I use that. The Lakota would call me winkte, but I'm not Lakota am I?" She gave the bounty hunter a crooked smile. "So basically white people have men and women. Indians have men, women, feminine men, and masculine women and those are two-spirits; people who live with the spirit of both genders inside them. But I'm not that, I'm just what Lakota call winkte. I'm not attracted to men sexually, just to women."

She took a moment to let that sink in for Sam while she plated her own breakfast and tucked in. "My dad said it was an abomination," she said with her mouth full before swallowing. "But most Indian tribes encourage it. They think we're holy or something, which is bullshit I think but my ma keeps trying to push it. So Onawa, that woman," she motioned to the door, "likes to think she's sleeping with a holy woman, or at least pretend she thinks it. And she's good at it but she's absolutely insufferable." Jackie shook her head. "Seriously though you being a guest is no excuse. We shouldn't have started bickering like that. Sorry."

Sam's jaw dropped as Jackie talked, and not just bedause if how frank she was about her... interests. "Y'all reckon that's holy?" she squeaked, missing the apology in her shock. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth, realizing just how that had sounded. "Ah mean... Ah'm sorry. Ah wasn't tryin ta be judgemental, really Ah wasn't. Different folks, Ah reckon, an' like y'said: y'all ain't Christian folk. It's jes'..."

She swallowed and looked down at her hands. "Ah reckon Ah might be one o' them two-spirits, way y'all explain it. Ah've never been th' most ladylike o' gals, although some o' that comes bein' raised by mah pa wit' six okder brothers. But Ah... Ah..."

Damn, but it was hard to say it out loud. Even to a woman who said she was attracted to women. "Ah, well, it ain't like Ah ain't interested in mdn, Ah suppose. Ah guess. Never gave it much mind, really. Not much mind to women, neither. But... mah first kiss, mah first real kiss, was a girl. She thought Ah was a boy, but..."

A wistful ghost of a smile crossed her features. "She was real purdy, an' soft. Not like me, wit' farm hard hands an' a figure that lets me pass fer a man. But Ah still remember that kiss..." Awkward and hesitant, growing bolder as bodies pressed together and fingers cupped faces. A slow part, gasping for breath, then blushes and giggles and shyly holding hands as they walked out if the barn together.

The smile faded. "Th' preacher saw, though. An' he read me th' riot act right in the street. Called me 'unnatural', an' a 'strumpet', an' Sally started sobbin' an' ran away." She sighed. "Mah pa said Ah couldn't be doin' that, later. Not mad, jes' sad like. An' folk looked at me funny, after that. Had ta knock down more'n one boy who thought he'd..."

Her knuckles ached where she'd scraped them on a jawbone, and her left eye was already swelling. Breath came in great gasps, making her small breasts seem more prominent where they could be seen thriugh her ripped shirt. "Barry James you son o' a bitch," she snarled, kicking the fallen teen in the balls. He made a gagging sound, snot and blood bubbling from his broken nose.

"Ain't laughin' now, y'little shit," she spat, her hard boit heel stamping down on his hand as he tried to rise. "Call me a whore again," she challenged, kicking him in the ribs. "Try an' force yerself in me again, Ah dare you."

Billy stared in terrorcas she squatted down, then flinched as she spat blood from a split lip on his face and flicked open her clasp knife. Sunlight filtering through the slats of the barn glittered on the steel. "Next time," she said, voice cold, "next time y'all even look at me, Ah'll cut yer tiny balls off."

"Well, lets jes say Ah'd have had an easier time o' it if'n folk thought Ah was holy." A sigh. "Mus' be nice."

Sam's jaw dropped but Jackie just laughed. "Well, I don't think it is," she said, "but most folks do, yeah." When Sam said she thought she might be "one o' them two-spirits" she only laughed again. "After yesterday you really expect me to believe anything else?" she teased.

But then the bounty hunter started talking about her first kiss. The small smile it had brought to Jackie's lips quickly fell as her story went on. When she implied that boys had tried to rape her just because of it her nose crinkled in disgust. She shook her head and spat into the coals of the dying fire. Perhaps because of their small community or perhaps because of cultural differences, while that sort of thing wasn't unheard of in her village it certainly wasn't condoned and carried harsh punishments. She'd heard about cases over in Kermit but while the men always seemed to worm their way out of it there, here the women were more likely to be believed.

"And they call us heathen savages," she snarled, shaking her head again. When she expressed that it must be nice being thought of as holy Jackie shrugged. "People come to you for advice a lot, so you get good at reading folks and situations. It can be a pain in the ass, but nothing like that." She took another bite of her breakfast and chewed thoughtfully, watching Sam.

"You could stay here," she offered finally. "Learn to be a medicine woman. Or medicine man if you wanted. Whichever. Beckett probably thinks you're dead so he wouldn't come looking for you here and you wouldn't have to hide who you are. You could even take a wife if you wanted." Jackie watched Sam's face to gauge her reaction. "If nothing else I'm sure Onawa would be more than happy about it," she joked with another lopsided grin.

"Take a wife?" The sentence came out as a yelp of surprise as Sam started. Then she uttered a shirt, self-conscious laugh and ran her fingers ner ously thriugh her shaggy blonde hair. "Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly. "Ah reckon Ah'm still gettin' used to th' idea that Ah kin be... well, honest. About me, y'know? Ain't like Ah... well, Ah mean..."

Laughing again, she shook her head. "Don't rightly reckon Ah'm fixin' ta settle down just yet, and Ah ain't ever really thought seriously 'bout gettin' hitched. Sides..." She sighed. "Kind as yer offer is, Ah cain't. Ah..."

She accepted the plate of bacon and corn fritters and stared down at it unseeing. "Ever since Ah was little, Ah wanted ta be, well, a lawman. Help an' protect folk, y'know. An' Beckett an' his men gunned down six good men, an' if'n he's willin' ta do that Ah reckon he's willin' ta do worse."

Idly, lost in memory, she bit into the bacon. "The dead cry out fer justice, an' the livin' know not that they need it." There was a flame in her eyes as she looked up. "Ah aim ta take a stand fer 'em, Jackie. Someone's gotta, 'cause there ain't no justicd in the world. There's just us."

Then she winced as a wound throbbed. "Well, mebbe takin' a stand kin wait until Ah kin stand, y'know?"

Sam's shock was highly amusing. When she mentioned that she'd never really thought about getting married Jackie chuckled. "Well I wasn't sayin' we run off into the sunset today, kemosabe. You don't even gotta marry me. I mean I guess my feelin's might be a bit hurt but the heart wants what the heart wants." She grinned and winked to indicate a joke. She was attracted to Sam, but she wasn't ready to settle down yet either.

But as they ate and Sam talked about what she wanted to do with her life Jackie looked thoughtful. It was a noble pursuit, to be sure. The spark in her eyes was intense and Jackie chewed her corn slowly to think over things. "You'll definitely have to wait until you can actually stand and move and stuff," she agreed, "but I'm in."

She was aware that the bounty hunter had never asked her along, despite her use of "us." But medicine wasn't Jackie's calling and she knew it. As much as Liluye tried to ignore it, she knew it too. Despite having a few friends and more than a few girlfriends (consecutively or concurrently) and despite being considered holy, Jackie had never really felt like she quite fit here. Like there was something else she was meant for. Maybe she could try her hand at justice, if Sam would let her.

"The families should know," she said after some thought, "that their husbands and sons died upright, like men. Beckett's the type to spread rumors about them cryin' or whatever." She looked up at Sam. "You should probably hide your face though. If he knew you were alive he'd come after you, and honestly I'm bein' a little bit selfish here coz he'd come after my village too if he knew we'd helped you and I can't have that. But once you're better we can go to the families first, then we'll find the rat bastard."

Somehow, and Sam didn't really realize how, her calling had become their calling. "Y'all are in, hm?" She hesitated, torn. She liked the idea - liked Jackie, even after knowing her only a few hours - but still... "Y'all know it'll be dangerous, right? Ah cain't rightly ask y'all ta..."

"The families should know," she said after some thought, "that their husbands and sons died upright, like men. Beckett's the type to spread rumors about them cryin' or whatever."

She nodded agreement. "Yer right, yeah. Only fair, let 'em know what happened."

She looked up at Sam. "You should probably hide your face though. If he knew you were alive he'd come after you, and honestly I'm bein' a little bit selfish here coz he'd come after my village too if he knew we'd helped you and I can't have that. But once you're better we can go to the families first, then we'll find the rat bastard."

"Makes sense." By now, any thought of talking Jackie out of going with her had fled. "Ain't sure what Ah'd use ta hide m'face though - a bandanna, maybe. Pulled up over my mouth? But yer right. Ah'd be a real bastard, if'n Ah paid yer kindness back by puttin' yer family at risk. A mask'd be good." She chuckled. "An' some clothes, too. Although Ah reckon ain't a right many people'd know me if'n Ah walked around in th' all-together."

Taking a bite of corn pone, she made a decision. "Once Ah'm healed up, though, th' families ain't the first stop. First, we outta visit the dead." She made a gesture with the pone. "Be a mite late ta bury 'em - Ah reckon th' coyotes an' th' vultures done been at 'em by now. But Ah reckon we outta see if they's got any personal effects, anythin' we kin take back to their families." She chewed again, thoughtfully. "An' Ah reckon Ah'll need a horse, too. Mine took a couplea bullets, and went down hard. Seems disrespectful, but if we kin find any cash, we kin use that ta buy me a new one."