The Maiden and the Reaper

[Two Dollar Jim]

<center> The Bareback Brothel </center>

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

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

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

The Doc, a devout Presbytarian, gave a nod.

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

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

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

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

"Five minutes, stranger."

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

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

"Had to interrogate Anabel."

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

"Nothin' left but a cold trail."

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

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

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

"You got new boots yet?"

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

"Ain't found the time yet."

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

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

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

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

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

[Andy McCall]

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

With a swallow she exhaled thinly through her teeth.

"Ain't sure."

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

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

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

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

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

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

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

He smiled at the thought.

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

He started to walk off.

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

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

"Miss McCall."

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

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

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

[Andy McCall]

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

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

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

[Two Dollar Jim]

Not saying yes or no, he answered her question with a question.

"You still offerin'?"

He took a level off his whisky with a stony expression, staring at his opposite who was perspiring and holding his cheques close to his chest, like a mother with a child. He probably should think about calling it a day, but Jim would take his money if he wanted to play it foolishly.

Eyes returned to Andy, and he pulled a five dollar cheque from his stack.

"Feel like talking it over some Faro? I'll even buy you in."

[Andy McCall]

Andy laughed.

"I ain't seen how you play yor game yet. Ain't wise to jump inna river without checkin' for snakes."

Content to stand and watch, she shifted most of her weight to her good leg. The poor soul who clutched at his cheques wasn't looking entirely encouraged by his fortunes, but she'd seen him in here often enough to know that he'd still play the game.

"'Sides. My offerin' depends on what you've got to give."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim shrugged, and instead cashed out of the Faro game, taking the cheque to instead tip the Banker as he instead opted for Blackjack, another sort of game that was easy on risk. He kicked out a stool at the dealer's bench for Miss McCall, and bought his own way in.

"In addition to my more macabe vocations?"

His eyes did the smiling for him as his mouth was hidden behind his glass.

"In that other life, I was a bad drover and a better carpenter. I've since learned to live by just being useful in general."

[Andy McCall]

Andy sat down carefully. She'd been fine with standing, but an offered seat was always welcome. The dealer was kind enough to light her cigarett for her, and she nodded her thanks as she pulled her first drag. Idly watching the table, she exhaled a cloud of smoke into the air

"So. You been a deer hunter in Texas, a drover, and a carpenter. Now yor just an everyman that has a fair amount of luck at cards and a hankerin' for revenge."

She sipped at her drink, thinking.

"I don't go lookin' for trouble most days, though there's fun to be had in that I guess."

[Two Dollar Jim]

"There's no money in huntin' deer."

Jim corrected as the dealer began to dispense cards.

"That's just a proverb or such."

He sat with 17, and the dealer dealt himself a card, beating his hand with 19. Fifty cents changed hands, and it was another round.

"I don't figure you're just after the kicks. A lady gets cross with a Mullins and takes a plug in the thigh, then treats it like a hangnail? And I'm the fatalist?"

[Andy McCall]

"Crawfish Mullins is an idiot, and I ain't got a care 'bout what his kin think."

Andy knew full well the Mullins clan wasn't the sort of group to sit idly by as one of their own was humiliated in any way, no matter if that one was a blithering fool.

"He thought to take back money he rightfully lost in cards, and make me repay 'im in flesh.

"Much as I love 'em, I'm no Bareback whore. I choose who I bed, and Mullins ain't on my list by a long shot."

Staring absently at Jim's stack of cheques, she took another sip.

"Money an' fun is all I'm here for. Nothing deep or meanin'ful."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim antied in for another round, and got his two cards.

"Strange woman to be in a position to choose, and still stay in the game."

He pulled a cigarillo from his pocket, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride all the way to San Francisco and not find another like you. Maybe all philosophers ain't dead after all."

[Andy McCall]

Andy thought about that as she watched the dealer work, and her gaze went to Jim as he played his game. She studied what she could of him, but it seemed that he had a way of hiding behind a veneer of... something, that she couldn't quite place. Or maybe it was just that he was so frank 'bout most things that he didn't have to hide. It was something new for a person who was so dependant on finding a person's tells.

She did smile at his last words though.

"Flattery works on lotsa women, but you'll only get me cautious if you keep it up. Ain't no man compliments a girl 'less he's got intentions up his sleeve."

Andy's eyes tracked to the sound of the saloon's door opening, and quicker'n a sidewinder she twisted in her seat, hunching over the table with her head down in the hopes of being as hidden as possible from the man who now stood in the doorway.

Doc Lenard.

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim's grin widened, and he lit the cigarillo in his teeth, letting its spiced smoke curl around the contours of his brim. Doc Lenard looked a bit out of his element as he shuffled here and there, craning his neck for his missing patient who didn't want to be found.

"Deal me out." He winked at the bartender, and stood up to intercept the good Doctor before he was allowed to look around any further.

"You there mister, have you seen Miss McCall? She up and left my care without staying a night."

With a funny expression, Jim spoke to the doctor with a bowler and a salt & pepper beard.

"And let me guess, you're lonely now?"

Confounded at being horsed about into a play on words, Doc Lenard made a face.

"Oh I've no doubt that she's off engaging in one of her nefarious habits of sort. This was as good a place as any to guess, and no doubt I'm sure you're in on it. All I'm left to do is insist that she stays off horses and refrains from any amorous exploits. If she pops open I won't be about to sew her up! She can fuss and fret over pain however she likes."

Jim dutifully nodded, at times nodding with his cigarillo in his hand and otherwise playing the part of a concerned citizen. With a smile, he turned back, cupping his hand to his face conspiratorily.

"You get all that?"

[Andy McCall]

Saved from certain doom at the hands of an overprotective doctor, Andy turned a wide smile to Jim, pulling the small bottle of laudinum partially from its' hiding spot on her person so that he could see she'd come more than prepared for pain.

[Two Dollar Jim]

With the doctor annoyed yet satiated, Jim said his goodbyes and returned to the table. He glanced sidelong at Andy's discretely-displayed seditive and cocked an eyebrow. He knew well enough that Laudinum was the sort of thing that was handled with discretion within town.

"Don't get a habit." he said with a smile, returning to his cards. This set he had a pair of fives.

"Double me down."

The dealer cut him a jack, which landed him at 20, giving him a hand to best the dealer, who busted at 27. He took the dealer's matched bet, and the amount he'd doubled down, leaving the ante for the next hand.

[Andy McCall]

"I got enough bad habits."

Andy hid the bottle once more, turning her attention back to the game and her glass. She took a drag from her cigarette and pulled five dollars from her pocket, setting them in front of Jim for his handling of Doc Lenard.

"Seems yor mighty useful for me. That's the second time you got rid o' folks I don't wanna deal with."

[Two Dollar Jim]

"That's an easy arrangement, then."

He doubled down with Andy's five dollars, but subsequently lost it when the dealer hit Blackjack. With an easy smile, he shrugged.

"I figure you know more about adventure than low-rent bodyguardin' though."

The doors of the Sockeye swung open again. This time, Jim drank from his whisky glass, getting a good look at the silhouette cut by the sun in the reflection. He was dressed smartly without being a showboat. A high roller?

[Harold Alexander Truss]

Mr. Truss removed his hat upon entry, taking a moment to dab errant perpiration on his face with his handkerchief.

"Water please, Hal."

The barkeep dutifully went to task. Seems the mayor didn't want to mince words about today. He seemed preoccupied, but once he had a drink of water, it all went away.

His eyes tracked to the table where Andy sat with a guest, and he canted his head a bit.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

[Andy McCall]

Not quite as concerned with hiding as she'd been with Doc Lenard, Andy gave Truss a nod of her head, a grin, and a firm pat to the table she sat at with Jim.

"Sure am. Right here."

The look she got from the mayor made her shrug.

"It's a shade better than sittin' alone in bed without company."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

"Who's the company, Mister?"

The mayor craned to see the face of the man she was sitting with.

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim pivoted on his seat slightly, pulling the cigarillo from his teeth to address the mayor.

"Name's Jim."

He met eyes with the mayor, and then averted them, back to his cigarillo.

[Andy McCall]

Andy pulled from her cigarette, eyeing first Jim and then Truss.

"Ain't no cheatin' tonight, sir."

It was an honest statement that Truss would know she meant. Bein' half lame made tricks hard when they got found out, and she'd rather not deal with the chances tonight. Even with Jim about she figured her luck would be better used at another time.

"Mullins still in a cell I hope?"

[Harold Alexander Truss]

Evading the necessity to answer the question, he offered a contented half smile.

"I wouldn't worry about Mullins."

Something about Andy's visitor was nagging at Mr. Truss, yet he couldn't figure it. He couldn't count on Andy to be reliably forthcoming, so he finished introductions.

"Pleasure to meet you Jim, I'm Alexander Truss, mayor of Justice."

Seeing the stranger was at least partially indisposed with Blackjack, the mayor decided to make his social call easier, and signaled the dealer to include him in the next hand. He sat opposite Andy, so that she was in between each.

[Andy McCall]

Firmly planted between both men, Andy leaned back carefully in her seat, mindful to not use her leg too awful much. She knew that Truss made it a point to get to know new arrivals in town, but right now was not the time she wished he'd chosen to do that. Made hers and Jim's previous discussion put to the wayside in favor of more 'proper' topics.

She looked sidelong to Jim, swirling a finger in her drink.

"You gotta place to stay for the night?"

[Two Dollar Jim]

"Mayor."

With a nod, Jim reached across and gave him a curt handshake. He could guess there was more to this than it seemed, so he sized the man up as they both played cards. Andy's question broke the ice, and he looked down at his roll, and whether or not he could afford a hotel room.

"Figure I do now."

[Andy McCall]

Andy gave a hm, and lifting her finger from her whiskey she stuck it in her mouth.

Nothing to do with an invitation, just mild curiosity. She rested an elbow on the table. Happy enough to watch, she made sure to pay attention to Jim and how he sat, the movements of his hands, the way he breathed, everything. Truss she didn't have to look at; she'd played with him enough to know how he carried himself in a game.

The two sat in relative silence on either side of her, and lifting her glass to her lips, Andy finished off the dregs of her drink before breaking the unusually quiet atmosphere of the game.

"Ain't seen a one-eared man come through town, have you Truss?"

[Harold Alexander Truss]

The mayor paused in the midst of a drink of water, and tipped the glass downward, but not to the point of setting it down. He wet his lips, swallowed, and then eased the glass, and his drinking hand, to the table below.

"What's the joke's punchline? I don't follow."

His cards were dealt, but he didn't look at them yet.

[Andy McCall]

She ignored his reaction, and reached over to turn one of his cards face up. A two. With an apologetic humph, Andy straightened back up.

"No joke. Jim's lookin' for a man with one ear is all. Thought you might've seen him."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

Slipping a dollar into the pot, Mr. Truss made no expression when he was dealt another card and busted. Returning the ante for the next hand, he thought over that tidbit of information.

He took another drink, and turned to look at Jim.

"I'm afraid not. Missing friend of yours?"

[Two Dollar Jim]

The ash grew a bit too long on the end of Jim's cigarillo, but he made no move to dispense with it. He looked at the mayor, wondering how best to explain.

"I'd like to find him."

He turned his eyes forward again, to the dealer. The stakes in this game were getting steeper.

[Andy McCall]

She knew better than to repeat what Jim had told her earlier in the day, about him being the one who'd taken that ear. No, that wouldn't do; not in front of the mayor at least. Who knew what the old goat'd do then. She was smart enough to keep most of her more illicit activities out of his sight no matter how much time passed, and so she extended the same courtesy for Jim.

"Anabel said he visited the Bareback earlier today. No one's seen 'im since."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

The mayor took another drink, this time dispensing all of the water in the tumbler. He took a napkin, blotting excess moisture from his lips as he set both down.

"Did Anabel say anything else?"

He looked to either of the two with curiosity he attempted to mitigate to some degree.

[Andy McCall]

At that, Andy looked the ceiling. The mayor had no need to look to her for answers. Jim was the one who'd stayed after all. She knew that nothing concerning the one-eared man had come up in conversation between the two; fact, she knew that more'n likely no sort of conversing took place at all. Anabel was mostly a working girl that never got to know the men she slept with, and so everything was strictly business with her.

Course, by now she'd picked up on Truss' behavior well enough to know that something was up, and coupled with Jim's ever-stoic demeanor, Andy suddenly found herself trying to think of something that would lead the topic of discussion away from its' current subject.

"Bareback's a whorehouse, Truss. What other information do you think Anabel gave."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

Mr. Truss cut her off with the sharp sound of his glass rapping against the table. The dealer paused in his business, himself looking up at the trio.

Suddenly concious of his unspoken outburst, the Mayor took time deliberately turning the glass about on the table, watching the light catch it differently as he did. He looked at Andy, and beyond her at Jim. He didn't like the way either looked back at him.

"This isn't a social call, then?"

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim continued to smoke, and at last extinguished the cigarillo into a crystal ash tray. He didn't say a word.

[Andy McCall]

Jim certainly wasn't bein' forthcoming, and Andy wasn't gonna offer any sort of word on the matter. Didn't mean she wasn't gonna look at Truss like he'd just kicked mud on her boots. She narrowed her eyes at the mayor just a hair, moving her chair just a little bit closer to Jim's.

[Harold Alexander Truss]

The faintest glimmer of recollection caught the Mayor's eyes, as if going back to some insignificant memory of some insignificant thing that crossed his path. The rest was woven together by a thread made of intuition.

"You said your name is Jim."

His mouth was dry. He paused, pressing his lips together to moisten them slightly.

"Jim Ballard? Two Dollar Jim?"

[Andy McCall]

For a short second Andy didn't move. With her back to Jim and her eyes on Truss, she suddenly remembered all the different retellings of what Two Dollar Jim had done five years back.

There weren't no way she felt unsafe in her position, but that didn't mean squat.

When she did move it was slow, and she pulled her cigarette from her lips, turning to face Jim and hereyes going up to his face. It was unreadable as ever.

"How many was it, really," she whispered, a small bit of excitement seeping into her voice.

[Two Dollar Jim]

"Jim Ballard died five years ago."

He spoke so softly it was almost a whisper. His hands were on the table. He lifted them slightly, turning them palms up to look at the weathered creases. He dared only linger a few moments before the fingers gently closed inwards, obfuscating his view of his killing hands.

"Two Dollar Jim's just a story."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

"Jim."

Mr. Truss stood up. The friendly lilt to his tone was gone. What remained was a granite voice that he'd tailored over the years. It was a voice that people couldn't help but to hear.

"You come to my town to live again. You come to wipe the slate clean. I'm fine with that. I don't ask people these questions lightly."

He took the glass on the table just as suddenly as a bird flapped its wings, and hurled it toward's the mysterious newcomer.

It was plucked out of the air without so much as a second thought. Jim's hands were there as if they'd always been.

"Fast hands."

Mr. Truss regarded the specimens that held his glass. He stood for a moment, then plucked a handful of chips from the dealer, arranging them on the table in a semicircle of six.

"As fast as they were five years ago? Or faster? You didn't come to my town to shake a man's hand so don't you dare insult me with your silence."

[Andy McCall]

Truss' tone was one that she knew well enough; he'd used it on her more than once, and Andy couldn't help but watch as the scene played out in front of her. Even as the mayor threw his glass at Jim she didn't flinch, nor did she let her surprise show at how Jim'd caught the glass as easily as anything.

But, again she knew that unfortunate things happened when Mayor Truss talked like he was now.

"We ain't come in here for trouble, just cards and drink."

Setting her jaw, Andy threw caution to the wind and growled out the last bit against her better judgement.

"I think you need to go home, Mayor. Yor makin' my leg hurt."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

The Mayor's attention snapped to Andy.

"Jim came here for something, but it wasn't that. And want me to sit, smile, and crack wise that he's going to stroll into my town and kill a man in cold blood?"

He looked back to Jim with the sharp expression of a hawk spotting a prarie dog.

"Six men!"

He jabbed a hand at the chips on the table.

"Six men with their backs to him at a poker table, and he comes in with murder on his mind."

He snapped his fingers, and slung the chips off the table, where they clattered to the floor. He holds up two hands with the thumbs up and index fingers out.

"Two guns in each hand, three men to a gun. That's shootin' that would make Wild Bill himself pale in the face. And over what?"

He looked at Jim, who had long since averted his eyes.

"How much was that pot? We all know how much."

[Andy McCall]

Everyone in the saloon had long since stopped their own talkin' and card playin' to watch. Andy didn't feel awkward , but she certainly didn't like the way things were going. If it'd been anyone but Mayor Truss she'da drawn her gun already, but she didn't dare do that. Not on the mayor.

"Of course we all know how much. Everyone knows. It ain't 'xactly no secret."

In lieu of the gun, Andy flicked her cigarette over Truss' shoulder instead of using the ashtray as Jim had.

"And anyways," she spat, "How do you know he come to town to kill a man? Odds are pretty damn good that he's just passin' through. No one ever said that one-eared bastard was livin' here.

"I know I'd sure remember if someone like that was."

[Two Dollar Jim]

His past had come back to him, and it was the sort of thing he'd learned to deal with in the short time he'd been a free man again.

Jim stood from his seat, a slow and deliberate action that brought him to his full, lean height of six feet.

"Mayor, I paid for my crimes. I'm still payin' for 'em. Every day I wake up."

The silence was thick. Not a person even whispered.

"If I've committed one in Justice, you'd best hold me to account for that as well. I pay my debts."

[Andy McCall]

Andy rose to her feet as well, coming up far below Jim's own height. She made a face at the throbbing that pounded through her leg as she stood, her glass left empty on the table.

"You done nothin' here," one hand went start gently pushing Jim towards the door as the other reached down to pick up his money. She left a few notes behind so's to cover their drinks.

A final angry look to Truss, and Andy turned her back on the mayor.

"Let's go."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

The Mayor watched them leave, standing stiff as starch until they cleared the swinging front doors. He deposited his hat back on his head, adjusted his tie, and exited the establishment without a word, toward his main office.

The door read H. Alexander Truss, Mayor in stylized paint across the glass. He opened it with a measured ease, closed it behind him, and headed for his private office in the back, beyond the clerks and attendees. There, he opened another door, closing it behind him. He took a seat in a high and plush leather chair, and dispensed from a crystal decanter a measure of Bourbon Whisky into a tumbler that sat across from an ivory fountain pen and stationery. He drank slowly at first, crescendoing into a gulp that took the entire contents of the glass, and punctuated that by hurling the tumbler into the wall across from him, shattering a portrait and the glass into a shower of shards.

[Andy McCall]

Once outside, Andy had but to snap her fingers and tch, and the dun mare dutifully pivoted on her back legs to follow after both Jim and Andy. She smiled; it'd been one of the many little tricks she'd taught the horse, and many times had come in handy. Times like now.

Andy limped along quietly, enjoying the cool evening air but having no desire to make any sort of conversation. Jim hadn't done much to help himself back in the saloon, and that made her ever more curious. A sound behind them caught her ears though, partially distracting her, and she turned to look over her shoulder at Mayor Truss as he marched himself across the dusty street.

Andy stared without a word or parting retort, facing forward only after the mayor had disappeared into the door of his main office.

Her feature remained determined however, and she kept on in the direction of the nearest hotel in town. It wasn't a fancy place, but it wasn't a hovel either. Affordable while still being nice, she figured Jim would at least appreciate that much.

The two made their way down the street, Andy's horse plodding along behind.

"Man's got his own reasons for doin' what he does."

She thought about lighting up another smoke, but figured that could wait. Instead, she pulled the bottle of laudinum out. A few drops on her tongue, and she made a face while replacing the stopper and tucking it away once more.

"I ain't gonna ask," a cough, and as they came to a stop at the hotel's front steps, she hooked her thumbs into her gunbelt.

"... but I won't stop from listenin' either, if you ever get the urge to speak of it."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim walked a ford in a river of conflict, and stayed silent through most of it. He too had watched the Mayor return stoically to his office. He knew what the man must feel in his heart. He wasn't too far from that feeling himself.

"He's right."

Again, he looked at his hands, tolerating only so much before it disgusted him.

"What do you know about death, Miss McCall?"

[Andy McCall]

"Enough to know it ain't somethin' I'm keen on lookin' in to."

Blowing out a breath of air, she looked up at a few of the lit windows on the second story. She could see folks movin' about behind their drawn curtains. A sidelong look to Jim then.

"Not somethin' I try to think of too often."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim nodded incredulously at her insistence not to think of death, as if quitting air was an option as well. He didn't want to ruin her illusions in that case. There was nothing he could think of that would part the storm ahead of him. There would be blood. Not just the one-eared man. It was going to be other people who didn't deserve it either, and Jim had no idea how to keep it from being any other way.

He looked tired.

"The Mayor's a good man, of a sort."

That much was true. He bore him no grudge.

[Andy McCall]

"He's fair most of the time. I've not seen him angry like earlier in a long while, and last time I heard him use that tone o' voice was three years back.

"Least, in front of me that is."

Standing in silence, she made a face.

"It was self-defense, but that didn't make 'im any less mad at me for it."

[Two Dollar Jim]

"Man's a true believer."

Jim removed his hat, setting it on a hat rack as if the whole thing weighed ten pounds.

"He's gonna do whatever it takes to keep somethin' terrible from happenin' here."

He worked the leathers of his gun belt, looking at a slightly warped doppelganger of himself in the leaded mirror.

[Andy McCall]

For some reason Andy'd followed him inside, ever curious about his solemn attitude. Someone like him made her wonder how a person could keep on, when she'd always been happy to just simply be about doing whatever her heart desired. That's what made bein' in Justice such a profitable thing that still allowed her to endulge in her less than proper habits.

Fishing his cheques from her pocket, she stood behind him and tapped the small bundle against his arm as he stared at himself in the mirror.

"You plannin' on bringin' that somethin' here, then?"

She'd defended him back at the Sockeye, but she hadn't forgot what he'd told her at Doc's.

[Two Dollar Jim]

He didn't look at her. Instead, he spread his gun belt across the wooden dresser, like a mother laying out an infant. A terrible similarity, as what kind of prodigy was Jim bringing unto the world?

"Plannin's got nothin' to do with it. It just is."

[Andy McCall]

Andy frowned. He hadn't taken back his money, and she let her arm fall, fingers still clutching the notes.

"Just because you kill a man don't make you some angel o' death. Didn't turn me into one."

There was a chest at the foot of the bed, and she moved to sit atop it. Her leg was sore despite the laudinum, so she figured on taking a seat. Resting an arm on her good leg, she stretched out the other so that the heel of her boot was the only thing touching the weathered flooring.

[Two Dollar Jim]

At this point, Jim was eager to listen. If there was some way out of this, he'd entertain it.

"What happened?"

He leaned against the dresser, propping himself up by his arms outstretched to either side. He was starting to see the appeal in Andy, and starting to understand how they'd found each other.

[Andy McCall]

"Self defense, like I told you."

Remembering the derringer he'd let her borrow, Andy layed the bills down beside her and reached into her button-up to the small pistol. She hefted it in an easy grip, staring at it while turning it over to feel it in the palm of her hand.

"Done it with a little derringer. I'd still have it if'n the mayor hadn't taken it away.

"Started carryin' bigger ones after that, in plain view so's none would get any ideas."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim nodded to her recalling of her incident. In his head, he wasn't there. He was five years ago. He was two six guns, one in each hand. He was Death, destroyer of worlds. The men he'd killed lay in a pool of spilled cards and speckled blood. Everybody looked at him, but ain't nobody seen. They only see after the shots. Then, it's like looking at something divine and terrible. Simple men before Zeus and his thunderbolt, equally bereft of explanation as to the retribution delivered.

"Mine was self defense too."

He blinked. It was true. The judge said it was so, how could it not be? The comedy of it all was the two dollars he'd stole had been his only crime. A desperate and grief-stricken man needing two bits for a train to carry him as far away from his dark heart as he could go, but never far enough.

[Andy McCall]

Andy set the small gun atop the stack of checques, a sudden smile lighting up her face. It wavered a little as she laborously got to her feet.

"Self defense ain't nothing you can do a thing about. You got yourself another chance at life.

"I ain't much of a God-fearin' woman, but when the Good Lord chooses you over the other'n, you best make him proud by bein' happy for it."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim nodded as he was expected to. For a better man, it would've been good advice. But he wasn't the judge, and he knew what now law did.

That he'd come into that bar to kill, and that he'd done exactly what he'd aimed to do. They all deserved to go to hell, and he'd send them there every time if it turned about.

"If God had anything to do with what I did"

He closed his eyes, and could not finish his sentence.

[Andy McCall]

"Maybe he did an' maybe he didn't."

She stooped to pick up the money and the derringer, and hobbling the short distance to where he stood, Andy reached over one of his arms to set the handful on the dresser top.

Another few careful steps brought her to the mirror where she leaned forward a little so that she could idly inspect her teeth.

"Ain't anything I can answer for you."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim shook his head, jawline clenching as he kicked himself for getting lost in his reverie. Andy was right at least about letting it gall him. Assuming the worst and he was still out to kill the one-eared man, there wouldn't be nothin' left of him to settle his score at this rate. For now at least, he'd make believe.

Smirking at Andy in her unflattering ritual, he made his way from the dresser to where she was hunched over, and stood behind her. Why was she here? Was he her next adventure. Never quite sure if he was here to bring her down or if she was here to bring him up, the paradox at least got him onto loftier thoughts. He watched her fuss with her teeth, and smiled in spite of himself.

[Andy McCall]

Another few moments of inspection, and she straightened up. She'd seen Jim's reflection in the mirror of course, standing behind her.

She twisted about to give a pat to his chest and a lopsided smile. It was a gesture that was near impossible to interpret.

"Yor dark, but you got yor charms."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Charms? That took imagination past what he had. It also caught him off guard, and he smiled as a result of it.

"I snore in my sleep."

He intercepted her hand, hiding out in his sagebrush patch of chest hair, and covered it with his own.

[Andy McCall]

Andy laughed and pulled her hand out from under his.

"Then I feel sorry for your pillow."

Stepping around him, she limped for the door, but not before tapping at the cheques she'd laid on the dresser.

"Don't forget about these, now."

[Two Dollar Jim]

...or maybe he'd read her wrong. That prompted an even bigger smile from him. She wasn't so obvious. He turned about, watching her leave, and slipped his cheques into a pocket.

"You let me know about any work."

[Andy McCall]

As she hobbled off down the narrow hallway, Andy lifted a carefree arm over her head.

"Oh don't you worry yor head 'bout that. I'll find you when I need you."

[Two Dollar Jim]

Jim saw her out and said his goodbyes, feeling almost upbeat about the way the day had passed. As the door shut behind her, he was alone to his thoughts again. As much as it suited him that she didn't, he'd almost hoped that she would stay.

He fished the stack of cheques from his pocket, shrugging at his modest success at not becoming a bum. He took off his boots, tucking the roll into one of them as he lay back on the bed. He looked down at his bare feet, thinking about Mayor Truss and the words he'd had for him. The words were honest, and they spoke from the heart.

For whatever Jim's reasons, he'd come into town as the villain. The weight of that inevitability strained him like a load too great, and Jim wondered if it was up to him to change.

[Andy McCall]

Navigating the steps down, Andy's boots hit the dirt with in an off beat, and once more as before, her mare fell into a slow step behind her. This time though Andy took a hold of one of the reigns as if it'd give her some sort of support. In a way it did, as it was something to hold on to.

The words she'd had with Jim didn't weigh heavily on her, but they weren't brushed away either. He was not exactly like she thought he'd be from the stories folks told of him. He was certainly a quiet one, but she supposed those were the ones that you had to watch the most.

The night air did well to refresh her as she limped along; Justice was quiet come this hour. It was rather nice, and she craned her head up to look at the open night sky. It was studded with stars.

Tracking her eyes back down, Andy caught sight of a dark figure standing on the front deck of the mayor's office. She knew who it was; wasn't nobody that stood like that 'cept Mr. Truss.

Gaze going to the ground, she kept on, refusing to look at him lest he use such contact as an invitation.

[Harold Alexander Truss]

"How's that leg, Andy?"

Whether she bothered to look up or not, he hung the interrogative out like a banner in the night air as he smoked another Dominican cigar, leaning ever-so-slightly against the corner post of the deck.

[Andy McCall]

"I'm walkin' on it."

She didn't slow down or speed up, but her eyes did manage to go from the dusty street up to stare straight ahead. Even from here she could smell the smoke from his cigar. It'd carried enough to where she had to wonder how long he'd been waiting out there.

[Harold Alexander Truss]

"I don't like arguing with you."

She could be an insufferable heel, but he felt obligated to get a word or two in before she hobbled off to sleep on bad airs.

[Andy McCall]

That did stop her.

"Ain't arguin' with you Truss, just answering yor question."

Had he known she'd not stay the night with Jim? It certainly seemed as though he'd been waiting for her at the very least.

She looked to him from where she stood in the middle of the street and crossed her arms over her chest.

[Harold Alexander Truss]

"I'm talking about before."

He chewed a bit on the end of the cigar as he tried to read her, and the impassive way she carried herself before him.

"If I'm wrong, you can tell me. There's gonna be trouble with him."

[Andy McCall]

"Maybe so."

She stared long at the mayor, trying to find the best way to say what she was thinking. There were times when Andy wasn't so carefree with her words, and she started toward where he stood, walking slow as she thought.

"But what you done to him back there wasn't fair for no man; not in front of all those folks like that. Don't matter who he is, no one deserved that."

Andy stopped at the first step and tilted her head up at Truss. In a small moment of honesty she pulled out the laudinum, regarded it for a few seconds, and tossed it to him gently.

[Harold Alexander Truss]

Her peace offering was big of her, and indeed the Mayor wasn't at all concerned about quashing some minor insurrection of hers. He gave her a look and tucked it away. He had a well-known bias against opium, but murder was a far bigger quarry.

"I don't have that luxury. I can't smile at a man like that, and wring my hands when bodies get cold, like I didn't see it all comin'."

He longed for her better faith in mankind, but being the Mayor meant he had to remain a cynic.

"This ain't Crawfish Mullins. He's got the want-to, but he ain't gonna take a leak without wettin' the front of his trousers. He damn well ain't Two Dollar Jim!"

He fussed at himself, again gnawing his cigar as he puffed it, as if isolating himself in his mind.

"This town's not Tombstone, it's not Dodge City, and it's not going to be a murder-happy mining camp. Not while I'm at the watch. Not ever."

[Andy McCall]

A sheepish return to the look he gave her was Andy's only response to her attempt at making things smoother between the two.

"Ain't no one said anything 'bout murder. He's just lookin' fer someone."

Andy leaned against her mare's shoulder, still looking up to Truss. Course, the mayor hadn't seen the way Jim'd 'introduced' himself to her, with a revolver to Mullins' head, but Truss didn't know that.

"Said so 'imself," she added absently.

Her gaze shifted, and Andy looked back the way she'd come, back to the hotel. Was there longing in her gaze? It was anyone's guess, really.

"He's... I dunno."

A sad sort of sigh.

"He's broken. Couldn't tell you how bad, but I know he's busted up somehow."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

"I believe it."

The Mayor knew it from experience. He had a far too intimate knowledge of broken men.

"It's the eyes. Every person I've ever seen who looks at me like that, they have some kind of hole inside. Like a thing that makes us people's gone missing. Killers."

He waved his cigar at her before she had time to speak.

"Not like you. I mean to kill a man with every intention of it. It's a chasm of a difference."

[Andy McCall]

Andy still stared at the hotel.

"Don't make the end result any diff'rent."

There was no way she'd ever forget her own transgression, but as she'd told Jim earlier, the Good Lord had chosen her, so she made sure to make Him proud by havin' the time of her life. Even if it was sometimes at the expense of Mayor Truss' annoyance and frustration.

Finally she pulled her eyes away and back up to him.

"What're you gonna do?"

[Harold Alexander Truss]

For what seemed an eternity, he didn't say anything. He paced in a tight zone, ever-puffing his cigar, and averting his eyes of her until he could think of something half decent.

"What can I do? The man's done no crime here. All I've got is my gut, but it don't make me any less sure of what's comin' down."

And that was the horror of it. He was a mayor, not a tyrant. He couldn't very well have the man up a tree on a bad feeling. This town ran on rule of law.

[Andy McCall]

"I've got a pretty good idea," she whispered, looking down.

Much as she'd been drawn to Jim, Andy knew when to be careful. That was most why she'd left. She'd seen it in his eyes. And it didn't really have anything to do with how he followed his gun... or the one-eared man.

She drew in a deep breath, pulling out a cigarrete from her case. Now was as good a time as any to light up.

[Harold Alexander Truss]

The Mayor didn't dawdle. He was hurtin' for them himself.

"I'm listening."

Despite their peculiar arrangement, both he and Andy had a sort of mutual sage understanding of each other. It was refreshing to talk, even if it wasn't what the other wanted to hear.

[Andy McCall]

With a matchstrike against her stirrup, Andy lit her smoke. Dropping the flame into the dirt, she turned away. There was a tiredness in her limping gait, both from the day's events and having such heavy thoughts on her mind.

She didn't look back at him. Just kept on walkin'.

"No, no ideas 'bout what to do."

A puff of smoke as she exhaled.

"Just of what's gonna be comin' down."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

His desire for frank evaluation remained.

"What else could I have done?"

He felt like a dog on a chain. No option to bite, so the only thing left was to bark. Less than that was dereliction of his own existence.

[Andy McCall]

The mare following her, Andy waved her hand in the air. It was a sign that she was tired of their conversation. That was one of the things about her that frustrated most, she suspected. That if she was not wishing to dwell on an issue, she turned and walked away from it. Didn't mean she wasn't gonna come back to it. Just a temporary break.

It was getting late anyways.

"Go home, Truss," she called over her shoulder.

"Tuck in yor girls and spend the evenin' with yor wife."

[Harold Alexander Truss]

The mayor looked down at his cigar. She didn't fail. It was what he needed to hear. Between the day with Crawfish and Two Dollar Jim, he felt drained. He needed to remember why he was bleeding himself dry.

He gave a small smile.

"Hmph."

Appreciating his cigar again, he nodded, and looked at Andy again.

"You be careful."

That was all he could do for her. She was a slave to her own devices, wherever they took her.