"A Storm in the West", Chapter Four
Title: A Storm in the West
Chapter: 4/13
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): no pairings yet
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, violence.
Summary: A saloon owner with an enigmatic past, an idealistic sheriff, a remorseful shotgun messenger, and the town that unites them.
"Are they still burying the dead?" Nino asked, far too non-chalantly for Jun's liking. He kept quiet, though, because he wasn't stupid- just because the sheriff had left the door open didn't mean it was an invitation to continue talking to the prisoner. At least Ninomiya had stopped screaming at him, but Jun had a feeling it was only due to Ohno's presence outside the bars.
The shop owner was munching on some bread, seated on a stool with one leg significantly shorter than the others. It rocked back and forth each time he shifted his weight.
"Mm," he said, in agreement. "Think the sheriff should be back soon."
Jun wanted to yell that if Ninomiya hadn't lost his head with his shotgun, there wouldn't be any dead- but it just reminded him that Nagase's ranch hand had gotten the bad end of the shot, and the bounty on his head had no doubt been advertised already. Maybe he'd get a wanted poster out of it, if his luck was particularly bad.
"Sheriff should know better than to leave trash lying around his room," Nino said, and Jun swallowed back ire. In truth, Sho had been in a rush to leave for the funeral, to confer with Pastor White, and he'd left the key on the chest across the room. Jun had been eyeing it for the better part of the afternoon, until Ohno had come in with rations.
"You're mean when you got bars to keep you from gettin' beat," Ohno mused.
Nino made a shrill noise with his teeth. "The bars have nothing to do with it."
Jun rattled the handcuffs against the bed post a bit, just to remind them that the door was open and he could hear them. Neither seemed to take make much of it. There were footsteps heavy against the stoop out front, and the door opened with a creak.
"Evening, Mr. Ohno," the sheriff said. He sounded tired.
"Evening, sheriff."
The footsteps grew louder, until Jun could see Sho standing outside the jail bars, hands on his hips. His trousers were laden with dust from the cemetary, caked with mud around the soles.
"Came to bring in Ninomiya baked goods, then?"
Ohno shrugged, still chewing on the bread loaf in his hands. "Gotta eat, same as us."
Sho glanced through the open door, to Jun still leaning against the bed. Jun wondered if the man was ever going to let him out- his wrists were starting to get raw, and listening to Nino and Ohno yammer on for an hour had succeeded in giving him a headache. The sheriff didn't look inclined to enter yet, though, and Jun wasn't sure he wanted to press his luck. They'd come to a tenuous understanding, and ruining it wouldn't help anything.
"Maybe I should garnish some profit from the saloon to pay Pastor White for the ranch hand's funeral," he said, still looking in at Jun with an unreadable expression. "Since you were the one responsible."
"Maybe we should just shoot Matsumoto and collect on the reward," Nino spat.
"You wanted for anything?" Ohno called, leaning around Sho to look in the bedroom. Jun sighed, feeling like a painted horse in a corral.
"Probably am now," he replied.
Sho frowned, like he'd just been reminded of the predicament Jun had explained himself to be in. Jun didn't much fancy waiting around to see how high Nagase put the gold worth on him to be; if he got free, he could be halfway to California within a week, and out of the ex-Confederate's jurisdiction.
There was a pause, and then a shout from outside- Spanish.
The sheriff whirled, hands going to his holsters immediately before he turned again on his heel to grab for his shotgun instead.
"Shit," he hissed through clenched teeth, cocking the weapon and checking the rounds. "Got here faster than I thought they would."
"Hey," Jun called, but Sho was already out the door, leaving dust in his wake.
--
There were three of them, and none of them the ones he'd shot at the day prior. Sho didn't even bother to pretend the shotgun in his hands was just for show; there was only one reason for them to show back up, and he wasn't stupid enough to think it otherwise.
"Evening, boys," he said, hoping his tone sounded dangerous enough.
"Cock-sucker," one cursed, spitting on the dirt.
"Save it," another said. Hands closed around holsters, and the one on the far right cocked his own shotgun held between mud-caked fingers. "He ain't the one we after this time."
Sho didn't miss the emphasis on 'this time'- but he also didn't miss the part before. The Sandburg Boys were headed like marshals on a mission towards his station, directly at him, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what they were looking for inside.
"My jurisdiction," he said, and the wound on his arm flared up something awful, as in warning. "You boys get on outta here. I don't want this to go sour again."
"We ain't here for you, sheriff," the one with the shotgun warned. "Count your blessin's that Mendoza wants the one who fired first on his noose before you."
"Back off," Sho said, raising his gun. He didn't want to shoot again- memories of the boy and the saw and the hazy, pain-lidden screams in Spanish hadn't left his mind yet- but he wouldn't hesitate. Not this time. His finger arched around the trigger, and then there was a flash of movement behind him; he hadn't noticed a fourth figure lingering in the late day shadows of the buildings, not until the arm had come down and all he could feel was the splitting pain as the barrel of the rifle hit him square in the head.
--
He heard Sho fall with a muffled groan before he heard Nino's hiss of a warning and Ohno's stool scraping across the wood. There was already blood hanging around his neck, settling on his shoulders; he'd tasted the copper of regret for the last four years, and he didn't want more of it. Ninomiya was behind bars and unarmed, and it wouldn't even be a fight. It would be an easy massacre, and they'd probably take Ohno down with them.
Jun was digging his heels into the wood boards before he registered his own movement. The bed was heavy and squealed something awful, but it wasn't the worse thing he'd dragged along behind him. The handcuffs were cutting into his wrists with the exertion of moving everything, but there was fire screaming in his veins to keep him going. He only had to get across the room to the key.
Close enough, and he kicked at the chest- the candle fell with a smack, and then the key with a ping. Ohno was shouting, and it sounded like he was trying to slam the door before the boys got there. Jun reached for the key, fumbling it between his fingers enough to open the lock. He'd gotten out of worse scrapes before- but the pressure didn't help.
More shouting, and a shot was fired. From the splintering wood that followed, Jun guessed it was at the ceiling.
The restraints clicked open, and Jun was moving towards the dresser holding his belt as soon as the iron slipped away.
He stumbled out the door with both revolvers palmed. One of the boys was coming through the doorway and a quick shot to the forehead put him down, between the eyes. The next barreled through after and Jun caught him in the chest. It was easier standing on the other side of the portal, gave him cover and something to shoot at. Nino was hollering up a storm within the bars, and Jun tried to ignore it.
A bullet flew past his shoulder, ricocheting off the bars. Nino dove behind the bed and Ohno surged into Sho's bedroom. Jun had himself behind the corner, firing across his chest without looking twice, in quick succession. He didn't seem to hit much, but at least the shots slowed them down- or warned them to be more careful, either or.
Another shot hit the corner too near his position, and he cursed.
"Wait," Nino called suddenly, in the cell- he was focused on the doorway, with one finger in the air. "Wait- go!"
Jun didn't stop to think the man could be doing little more than to set him up. He just threw himself around the corner and emptied as many rounds from both weapons as he could, one after another. He caught one in the arm, and then in the leg, and the last in the stomach, sending him to the ground with anguished wheezes.
The smoke lingered in the air as Jun slowly climbed to his feet, re-holstering the revolvers. From the silence beyond the stoop, he gathered there had only been four.
"Ohno?" he called, over his shoulder.
"Alive," came the answer. It was all Jun needed to hear. He stepped over one of the bodies, heel managing to land square in the growing pool of blood near the door, and went out into the sun. The sheriff was lying on his back in the dirt, stirring slightly. Jun knelt, giving him a quick once over for injuries.
"Sheriff?" he asked. There didn't seem to be any blood- they'd just hit him, then, to knock him out. His head would hurt something terrible, but it was better than patching back up a bullet wound. He got a groan as a response, and reached to skim his fingers across the man's forehead. "Sheriff?"
Sho's eyes opened into slits, and he squinted up at Jun.
"Y- 'posed to be handcuffed to my bed," he mumbled.
"Got out," Jun stated the obvious. He stood, and held out a hand to help Sho to his feet. The sheriff was unsteady, but kept his own, raising a hand to his head as if woozy.
"Speaking of getting out," came the shout from inside the structure, "fancyin' on letting me out any time soon?"
Ohno poked his head out of the station, calmly surveying the bodies littering the doorway.
"Think you've got trouble, now," he said.
"Had trouble 'fore them," Sho mumbled, but Ohno was right; four dead from Mendoza's gang, and Jun's guns still smoking. The sheriff had a heap on his hands if he didn't play his cards right. And from the look of the planned ambush, he was already targeted for the noose.
"Go see the doc," Jun told Sho, with a hand on his arm to help point him in the right direction. "Once your head is back on straight, you can plan your next move."
------
Late, late, late, Aiba berated himself. Always late. He’d been hammering in his shop, and that was good and loud enough to keep him from hearing the gunshots down the way. Some deputy he was. As he hurried over, ears still ringing from his work, he found Matsumoto outside, holding onto the sheriff. Had Matsumoto escaped and done something to him?
His fears were unfounded as he saw the bodies of four men, more of the Sandburg gang from the look of them. Ohno was standing in the doorway of the sheriff station, his usual expression on his face. What the hell had happened?
“Sheriff, you alright?”
Sho looked up, and Aiba watched him move a hand to his head. “Got knocked around a bit,” the sheriff told him. “We got trouble coming.”
“You need to go get your head looked at,” Matsumoto was saying, patting Sho on the shoulder like they were old buddies now. Aiba was pleased to see some people in this town getting along.
Four corpses meant four more graves, and Aiba didn’t much like that. If Mendoza kept losing men, he’d send more and more, and they wouldn’t be able to protect the town at that rate. Sho pointed at Aiba, hand wobbling as he started stumbling off to Doc Ogura’s. “I’ll let the doctor know about his newest burials. You…you lock him up.”
Jun looked annoyed. Maybe he’d overestimated the level of affection between sheriff and gunman, Aiba realized. “You can’t be serious,” Jun said. “I just saved your hide.”
“You broke out of custody. Aiba, would you ignore his yammering and handcuff him?”
Aiba was torn. It was clear that Matsumoto had left the Sheriff’s custody, but in doing so, he’d fended off the attackers. Ohno stepped down from the porch. “Matsumoto here saved my life.” The baker looked back, raising his voice slightly. “And he saved Ninomiya’s too.”
Sho snorted and kept shuffling off until he disappeared ‘round back of the Doc’s place. Well, it had been a while since Aiba had had to make any sort of tough decisions. If Matsumoto had broken out and protected the sheriff and the other men, then the town owed him a great deal of thanks. But he’d taken advantage of the situation to break out of custody.
Jun was eyeing him, and Aiba knew he’d have to make a decision sooner or later. But if he let Jun go free, what would happen with Nino? First things first, he had to deal with the bodies. Townsfolk didn’t need to have corpses in their main thoroughfare two days in a row.
He clapped Ohno on the shoulder. “We need to get these men in the ground. Can you get Pastor White?” The baker nodded, always knowing which way the wind was blowing. He headed off towards the pastor’s house, and Jun was still standing there. He hadn’t taken advantage of Sho when he was knocked back, and he hadn’t made a move on Ninomiya. Maybe the man could be trusted, if only a little bit. He’d let Sho yell at him later.
“Matsumoto, you’re gonna help with the burials or I’ll put you back in the shackles. What do you say?”
Jun holstered his weapons and crossed his arms. “Find me a shovel.”
-
He watched Jun and Aiba lifting bodies together, getting them onto a cart Ohno had wheeled over. They kicked up dirt as they headed out of Nino’s range of vision, off to the town graveyard just beyond the church. He was still fuming, still raging. Didn’t matter how many men Jun Matsumoto fought off, did it? He’d always be the man who let her die. Let some bandits steal her innocence and slice open her throat.
But the urge to throttle the other man, to feel Jun’s life between his fingers as he snuffed it out was lessening. There were far worse things on his plate than dealing with revenge, much as it pained him to admit it. Mendoza had sent those men not to antagonize Sakurai this time. Nope, Mendoza wanted him dead. And Nino didn’t much like the thought of his head being the target of any of the Sandburgs’ trigger happy fingers.
The sky darkened as they carted away the last of Mendoza’s men, and Jun did everything but look in his direction whenever he passed by. There’d be no forgiveness, Nino was sure of that much. But he’d have to save his ire for another day. It was another hour or so before Sho came in, still walking a bit slow, but the doc hadn’t bandaged him up.
“Bet you gotta nice bump on the back of your head,” he said with a laugh as the other man closed the door and went back to the pile of papers on his desk.
Reporting back like a good little soldier. When was Sheriff Sakurai going to get it through his thick skull that there was no such thing as an account of events out here? Every man took a side, and none of those sides might be in the right. There was no way to tell the fat, rich good for nothings in Santa Fe what really happened. And they sure as hell didn’t care, so long as there weren’t any Indian attacks.
Sho said nothing as he lit the oil lamp on the wall, arranging the papers with a heavy sigh. Nino was bored, quite frankly. “Where’s Matsumoto? Shouldn’t you be getting cozy again soon?”
The sheriff’s face twisted into annoyance, and Nino knew he’d found a good place to dig on in. “Both were awful quiet last night,” he continued, laying back on the mattress and staring up at the leaky ceiling. He’d been sleeping, had slept through it all, but it would be out of character for him not to rile the sheriff up with insinuations and implications. Hadn’t Sho done the same to him the day before? “You let him share your bed, handcuffs and all?”
“He’s enjoying Aiba’s hospitality tonight,” Sho replied, teeth clenched in irritation.
Nino chuckled. “You gonna miss him?”
He heard the sheriff’s chair scrape back against the floor, and soon enough the man was standing at the bars. “You got a mouth on you, Ninomiya, and sometimes I wanna smack it closed.”
“Why don’t you open up this cell and go for it?”
Sho sighed, and Nino imagined his head wasn’t feeling so great. “I’m letting you loose tomorrow. You try to mess with Matsumoto…you get within ten feet and you’ll be rotting in here until you’re begging on your hands and knees to get out.”
The thought of freedom, getting back to his saloon and away from the iron bars was a fine thought indeed. But there was no way to run a business with the storm clouds looming over the town now. “What you planning to do about Mendoza’s boys?” This was a topic of definite concern, seeing as how they wanted him dead.
“It’s pretty obvious that word’s gonna get back that we’ve now killed five of the Sandburgs. They’ll send a whole big crew in a few days, I can almost promise you that.” Sho looked exhausted. Maybe he really hadn’t given a whole lot of thought to what a sheriff really had to deal with. It wasn’t all smiles and taking care of the drunk and disorderly.
“And?”
Sho gave him a dirty look. “And we’re having a town meeting tomorrow about the best way to defend Rapid Springs. Aiba’s gonna coordinate getting the women and children out of town, maybe over to Broken Trail for a while until the dust settles.”
Nino raised an eyebrow at this. He wondered if Sho would be kind enough to ensure the safety of Scarlet, May and the other girls. Or did Sheriff Sakurai’s definition of women differ from his? “I suppose that’s why I’m getting sprung.”
It pained Sho to say his next words, and that gave Nino a slice of happiness. “As someone who’s lived here for so long, you are definitely an asset in planning any sort of defense.”
He considered this. It would be hard to not accidentally shoot Jun in the back during a firefight, trying to convince Sho it had been a misfire. Nino kept those thoughts to himself. “And what about your gunslinger? Your savior, as it were?” He stifled the knowledge that Jun had been as much Sho’s savior as his own that day.
“What about him?”
“He crawling back to his boss? You letting him leave?”
Sho looked angry again, stepping away from the bars and off to his room. “He’s offered his services. Claims we're screwed without him.”
With that, Sho slammed his door, leaving Nino alone in the candlelit room. This sure was a development. It was clear the sheriff resented Jun’s presence. He obviously didn’t like anyone else trying to play enforcer around these parts. Nino tucked that little bit of info away, turning over on the mattress. Sure would be a town meeting to remember.
------
It felt wrong to be discussing a firefight in the church, but it was the only place they had for a town meeting hall, and the conversation had to be addressed. At the very least Sho knew the citizens were serious about the threat, since they amassed within a half an hour of Aiba spreading the news of the meeting 'round town. Two days of gunfire in a row, and the blood of Rapid Springs was rapidly running cold with dread; he wouldn't have to do much to inspire some action out of the folks gathered in the rickety pews, that much was certain.
Aiba was waving people further inside the building, near the doors.
"What's your plan?" came the answer from behind him, near the shadows of the dais.
"Get the women and children out," Sho replied without turning. He was already sick of seeing the self-satisfied smirk on Matsumoto's mouth; the man didn't have to offer his aid, but Sho wasn't required to accept, either, and he didn't wish to feel anymore like Jun was doing him a huge favor by sticking around. "Stand our ground."
"How you gonna do that?" Jun asked.
"With guns," Sho snapped, "and maybe a few bullets."
There was a snort from Ninomiya, who was leaning against the wall beams with his arms crossed over his chest.
"I was actually thinking of using the frills in the saloon cabinets," he quipped. "Think Matsumoto will look fine in a dress, don't you? I'm envisioning lace, maybe a nice brooch."
"If you aren't going to offer anything helpful, keep quiet," Sho warned, itching to throw the man back in the damn jail cell. He might have to deal with him at night, but at least it would silence him during the strategic meeting.
"Was helpful," Nino said. "Jun can distract them with his legs while we shoot."
"Not making enough with your whores?" Matsumoto asked. His voice was dangerously low. "Maybe if the service in that shit-hole improved you'd see a rise in your sales. Can't be the pitch, that's for sure."
Nino's face contorted into an angry scowl, and Sho just held a hand up- within days he'd be seeing a host of Mendoza's lackies on the streets, and he had to deal with quibbling from behind the scenes, as well? His temples ached something fierce already.
"I'll throw you both in that cell, mark my words," the sheriff warned. "So shut it and keep your mouths closed for five minutes while I sort things out."
From the doorway of the church, Aiba flashed him an okay sign- that was the majority of the town, then, or at least the able-bodied half. Ohno was near the far corner, scanning the pews in case something went south, and Pastor White was next to him, holding a bible like a lifeline. Sho stepped up to the pulpit, feeling a bit humbled to be behind it; usually he was watching the sermon delivered from the point, and he was certainly no clergy-man.
"I'm sure you're all aware of the pressure we're under now," he started, "and I know ya'll are waiting for something to be done about it. First thing tomorrow morning, Pastor White is taking the women and children up north to Clearwater."
There was a ripple through the crowd, murmurs growing.
"The rest of you are to stay here. We need every gun we can get." Sho resisted glancing back at the two standing behind him, almost regretting his own words.
"And what then?" called a man from the pews.
"You just focus on getting your innocents out of here," Sho told him, "and let me do the rest."
There was a tap on his shoulder as the crowd began to talk amongst themselves, and Pastor White, who stepped forward, and Sho turned. Jun was standing behind him with a frown on his features.
"We should divide the men into two groups," he said. "Keep some on both sides- gives us a wider range to shoot from."
"And more possibilities to hit each other," Nino pointed out. "You figurin' every man in this place knows his way around with shotgun barrels?"
"Well, it's better than laying low and waiting for them to ambush us," Jun said. He ground his teeth, jaw clenched.
"Can't be an ambush if we know it's coming," Nino replied.
"Can be if we ain't prepared. And we need to settle along both sides of the main stretch to give us the most advantage."
Ninomiya chuckled. "So what? You in charge then?"
"No, he isn't," Sho butt in, giving Jun a warning glance. The other man was grievously overstepping his bounds; it was still Sho's town, Sho's rules, and if Matsumoto wasn't going to play by them, he'd throw him out. He didn't need the guns that bad- or so he told himself as the ire swept through his form, clenching his muscles.
Jun bristled visibly.
"Look, sheriff, you should take my advice," he said. "I've done this before, and you haven't."
"Just because I've never done this doesn't mean I'm inept," Sho fired back.
"That's usually what the term implies," Nino added dryly. The crowd was still mobilizing among themselves- Pastor White was taking a head count of all the women and children who would be accompanying him, jotting notes down on the paper in his hands. Ohno appeared to be helping count as well, though by the frustrated look on his face, he kept having to start his numbering over again as bodies kept shifting and moving around them.
"You accepted my help-" Jun started.
"Doesn't mean I acquiesced my badge," Sho interrupted, ears ringing. "You're here to help, not to lead."
"This really isn't the time to get caught up on semantics," Jun said.
Another chuckle from Ninomiya's position, and Sho was beginning to get very sick of the derisive sound.
"Good luck un-knotting his trousers," the saloon owner said. "Might as well just flick that star right on over to your jacket, Matsumoto, for all the good it's going to do."
He was moving before he really thought about it. Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was the impending shots he'd be firing, or maybe it was just a culmination of the arguing around him. Didn't really matter, cause Sho had Nino against the wall in the blink of an eye, one arm pressed tight against the man's throat to pin him in place.
"I said I needed your gun," he hissed, inches from Ninomiya's face, "not your mouth. Now keep it fucking closed or I'll do it for you. Doc's got stitches that would work just fine for that."
There was murder roiling furiously in Nino's eyes, but with Sho's forearm smashing his windpipe, he at least had the good sense to keep quiet.
"Now either you follow my lead, or you make with the pastor to Clearwater," Sho continued, keeping his wrist where it was and glancing over at Jun. The gunslinger's face was dark, but he made no move to shift to Ohno's position near the doorway. "What's it gonna be?"
"You're a right bastard," Nino choked out.
"Well at least we have that established," Sho told him. The anger was pounding in his ears, but the ringing had stopped; his blood was singing with fire. He stepped back, letting Ninomiya half-tumble to the ground, rubbing his throat and glaring like it could kill. He ignored it, and glanced at Matsumoto again.
"Feel like pushin' your luck here?" he asked.
"Ain't pushing anything," Jun snapped, "least of all luck. We don't have any."
Sho wiped his hands on his trousers, palms oddly sweaty.
"Then we make what we can."
Nino stood again, glowering. His throat was red from the pressure, but it didn't look like it would purple by morning- he'd make a bigger show of it, alright, Sho had no doubt about that. It was worth it to get the man to shut his trap and let Sho think straight for a minute.
He bit his bottom lip, staring at the toes of his boots.
"Maybe we can use this," Jun suggested, finger pointing upwards towards the ceiling.
"The church?" Sho asked. It sounded like a suggestion rather than a demand, so he took it.
"Steeple," the other man clarified. "Best vantage point in town. I could go up-"
"No," Sho said, shaking his head. Jun trailed off, looking dark but thankfully silent. "You're quick with the draw, and I need you on the street. Aim's better than most of the folks 'round here, and I'm not gonna waste it."
He leveled him with a hard look.
"If you're still offerin'."
An almost imperceptible nod was the answer. There was an uncoiling in Sho's chest in relief. He looked back to Nino. From the hard set of the saloon owner's jaw, he knew he'd probably pushed him too far, but he didn't rightly care. He just needed his help, one way or the other- friendship wasn't something he was aiming for in light of the situation.
"What about you?" he asked, finally.
"What about me?" Nino shot back, obviously no longer in a remotely giving mood.
"You gonna help, or leave with the rest?" It was bad form to needle at Nino's courage, but at least Sho knew that poking at the coals would keep the fire alive. It had come to blows below the belt, and he was too tired to be ashamed of his aim.
"I ain't doing it for you," Nino ground out.
"Didn't say I wanted you to," Sho replied. Nino glanced over to Ohno and Pastor White, trying to calm the growing commotion in the crowd, and to Aiba standing near the door with his back against the wood, near the narthex of the building. Sho could almost see the cogs in the man's head spinning; he didn't think himself half qualified to know what was going on up there, other than he was hoping Nino hated him enough to be driven to prove his worth.
"I'll take the steeple," he said, in a way that left no room for argument. One thing about Ninomiya- even backed into a corner he commanded some loft in the discussion.
"Fine," Sho agreed. It was- he'd rather be on the ground, where his shotgun had more force behind it. "We got a day, maybe two- Mendoza won't give us much time. He knows we'll be mobilizing."
"Make sure all the guns have ammo," Jun said. "Give the men a few packs extra, and tell them to keep armed at all times."
It still irked him, but at least his rage had largely passed- Matsumoto was at least attempting to pretend like his comments were suggestions rather than demands.
"I'll put Ohno in charge of it," Sho said.
Across the nave, Aiba was waving at him, gesturing largely- Pastor White appeared to be done, it seemed, with aggregating the women and children into the traveling group.
"Stay alert," Sho warned the two near him, returning the motion with his left hand so the deputy knew he'd seen it. "Don't know when they'll hit."
"Never do," Jun mused.
Ninomiya glared darkly at Sho, pushing himself away from the wall with both hands. "No," he disagreed. "Sometimes you do."
Sho let him leave, because he was reasonably certain the man hadn't been talking about Mendoza, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to dive into the implications just yet. He had too much else on his plate already.
-------
“And I swear to Jesus, Mary and Joseph that he got his foot caught in the stirrup and tripped!” Aiba was telling him in between bits of laughter, and Jun could barely keep from chuckling himself. It had been a long time since he’d really laughed, the carefree laughter of a man like Aiba.
“This was his first time?”
“Well,” Aiba said, pouring and filling his glass with brandy again. They’d both had enough, but there’d been a scout down past the creek earlier that evening. Mendoza’s crew would be there before high noon, Jun knew it. If he was going down shooting, then tomorrow would probably be that day. Didn’t hurt to get some good liquor in his belly beforehand.
“Well, it wasn’t his first time on a horse. I mean, it was his first time riding into town. Whole place was waiting for him, and he comes in. And you know the Sheriff, he was smilin’ like a sunbeam with those pretty Yankee teeth, and he halts the horse. So he’s getting down, ready to walk up and start shaking hands with the townsfolk and what do you know, the guy gets his boot stuck on the stirrup! And bam!”
“Bam?” Jun repeated, downing the brandy with a hearty snort.
“Bam! Right on his ass!” Aiba doubled over in his chair, smacking the faded upholstery with his free hand. “Not a good first impression, mind. Not a good one at all.”
Jun finished the glass and coughed, unable to control himself. “That’s shameful, is what that is, Mr. Aiba. Damn shameful.”
Aiba waggled his finger drunkenly. “Now don’t you repeat a word of that to the Sheriff. He was embarrassed enough.”
He made an x in the middle of his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
The deputy fumbled with the cap for the brandy bottle and got to his feet. “I’m turning in. If we’re shooting holes in people tomorrow, I need my beauty sleep.”
“Good night.” Aiba headed off, leaving Jun alone in his humble living room. Sharing quarters with the blacksmith was a hell of a lot less complicated and strange than being cuffed to the sheriff’s bed. Aiba was simple-minded but not dumb. He didn’t pry and he didn’t nag, and in another life, Jun might have been happy to have been the man’s friend. But he was dealt the hand he’d been given, and Rapid Springs wasn’t his home.
He set down his glass and headed out onto Aiba’s porch, leaning against the post and surveying the town. Tomorrow, Mendoza’s boys would be there. If they were smart, they were already camped out close, maybe Friendship Pass. There’d be a good thirty or forty gunmen, if Mendoza wasn’t as dumb as his reputation implied. Jun held out his hand, extending his index finger like a gun barrel.
“Bam!” he muttered to himself, targeting a few barrels visible in the distance. “Bam!” This time, from behind the church. Would they approach from the north entrance by the sheriff’s place or from the south, by the church graveyard? Or would they sneak amongst the houses and cut the town down the middle.
Most of Sakurai’s plan trusted Mendoza’s boys to play it safe and split up, half coming from the north and the other half from the south. Jun wanted men in the houses, aiming from windows behind curtains. Ninomiya had declared his place off limits for such plans, the bastard, even though his saloon was centrally located and ideal as one of the only buildings in town with a second story vantage point. The man himself would be hiding out in the church steeple with a rifle - if Nino wanted him dead, tomorrow would be the time.
He’d spent the better part of yesterday and today training the townsfolk how to properly fire shotguns. For a podunk little hamlet at the edge of nowhere, there were surprisingly few men who could hit the broadside of a barn. They were more concerned with their businesses or their animals than with their protection. He surveyed the town from Aiba’s porch one last time, hopping down the stairs with a bounce to his step from the deputy’s fine stores of brandy.
There was a nice breeze. Not enough to kick up the dirt, but enough to ruffle Jun’s hair and cool the back of his neck. There was a light on at Ninomiya’s, but Jun didn’t need to press his luck. Nino might have been a terrible shot, but his saloon was sacred ground. Home territory. If Jun set one foot inside, he’d technically be trespassing. Or Nino would spin the tale that way. No, he’d keep going.
Sheriff’s light was out. He was probably in his ritzy pajamas, talking in his sleep about his mama like he had the night Jun had been cuffed to his bed. Jun kept walking, past the wooden posts designating the beginning of the town proper. There was a creek bed up this way, probably dried out. An old gnarled tree, roots poking up out of the ground, was one of the only patches of shade between the town buildings and Friendship Pass.
Jun remembered the unforgiving openness of the land here. He’d never forget it, crawling on his belly like a snake to tell the old sheriff how they’d been attacked. How he’d been shot and left for dead, but he’d fallen under some of her clothes and been forgotten. Nobody’d remembered to slash his throat and listen to his blood gurgle.
He sat heavily in between a couple roots, staring at the dry creek bed, smooth stones lining the bottom. What was Nagase waiting for? It’d been days now, and that boy should have gotten back to the man’s ranch by now. Had Nagase caught wind of Rapid Springs’ troubles, figuring that Mendoza would take care of his problem? It would leave Nagase above suspicion if Jun took a bullet in the brain the following morning.
There were steps behind him. Not the shifty, uneven steps of Ninomiya or the confident, carefree strides of the deputy. “Planning to bolt?” Sho asked him, one boot perched on the root by Jun’s elbow.
“You need me.”
The boot scraped back and forth over the root. Nervous tension. “You know we don’t have the money to pay you.”
“Don’t want your money.”
Sho laughed. “You get a personality transplant when I wasn’t looking?”
Jun shrugged. “I done Rapid Springs a disservice. Just repaying her.”
The sheriff shifted, leaning his back against the tree, standing just next to him now. “You atoning? I talked to Aiba. There was nothing you could have…”
He looked up, anger building in his gut at Sho’s presumption. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what I coulda done. You have no idea.”
Sho hummed a bit, a tune Jun didn’t recognize. Probably some fancy thing he’d heard at a recital or orchestra or other time-wasting activity people back east liked to do. It mingled with the crickets, and a coyote long in the distance howling for its pack. He kept staring. The night sky was open, full of stars and a crescent moon. Peaceful almost, given the coming day. The calm before the storm, as it were.
“You in the choir, Sheriff?”
The other stopped humming. “Me? No, no way. Not since I was a little boy at Sunday school.”
Jun closed his eyes, knowing the sheriff wasn’t going to try anything funny. He wasn’t Ninomiya, for one thing. “What kinda stuff they teach in Sunday school in Boston?”
“Hmm?” Sho crouched down, his knee brushing briefly against the sleeve of Jun’s shirt. “Probably the same stuff out here. Jesus and the disciples, David and Goliath, Cain and Abel.”
He nodded. “Oh yeah. We got Cain and Abel out here too.”
“Man slaying his brother cause God loved him more. Loved the shepherd who cared for his flock more than the man who tended his fields with an equal love.” The sheriff sighed as his knees cracked a bit, and he readjusted, sitting with his back to the tree at Jun’s side. “Guess I came out here thinking I’d be Abel.”
The alcohol was still playing tricks on his brain, making him warm despite the chilly night air, and he moved a little closer so he could hear Sho plainly. “What do you mean, Abel?”
Sho shook his head. “I don’t know I…I guess I thought I’d be shepherding these folks in a way, pleasing everyone by caring and loving and protecting them.” He laughed quietly. “Feel more like Cain every day. Workin’ my ass off and it doesn’t even matter.”
Jun sighed. “You comin’ to me for advice, Sheriff? Because I thought you hated the sight of me.”
“Not here for advice.”
“Then why are you here?”
The other man was quiet for a few moments, and Jun watched the moon, wondering if he’d get to see it again the following night. “I’m just tired. Tired of people like Ninomiya.”
“Tired of people like me?” he interjected, and the other man actually cracked a smile.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m definitely tired of people like you.” Sho inclined his leg, resting an elbow on his knee. “I just want them to see me and know I’m not here for myself. I’m here to help them. Here to make this place safe.”
The other man’s body heat inches away was messing with his already muddled mind, blurring his thoughts. He was still pretty and new with his pajamas and his books and his smile. He just didn’t fit out here. Jun gave the Sheriff a playful punch in the arm, letting his hand rest on the man’s shoulder. “You Yankees. Always so regretful and wanting the whole world to know you’re suffering. Wearing your hearts on your sleeves.”
“Should I bottle everything like you?” Sho asked him, the whites of his eyes bright underneath the stars. “Not like I go telling everyone around here what’s eating me, but you just have it all packed in, all internal. You’re a tough nut to crack.”
“Ain’t I a piece of work?” Jun said with a chuckle, letting his hand drift down lazily from the other man’s shoulder, landing on his thigh.
Sho was so caught up in his own misery that he didn’t seem to notice. “Maybe I should just go back east. Just go back and tell my father he was right.”
“Maybe you should.”
The sheriff sighed. “Thanks. You’re real encouraging.”
The man’s leg was warm, almost hot under Jun’s fingers. He smelled like rolled tobacco and gun oil, and the hint of some clean Yankee soap. It had been so long, just so damn long since he’d been close to another person he didn’t have to toss bills at first. Sho was arrogant and self-righteous, but at the same time he was a kind soul and doubted himself far more than anyone in the town possibly could. He was out of place, and Jun was always like that, too, in his own fucked up way.
The brandy gave him courage and his desperation and loneliness didn’t hurt either as he grabbed the Sheriff on impulse, eager to see if the man’s lips were as soft as his hands. But his mouth only got the side of the man’s cheek as he turned away.
“You’re drunk,” Sho said, pulling away.
It wasn’t a no. But it sure as hell wasn’t a yes. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I am.” He felt his stomach knot as Sho’s body heat disappeared, and he got to his feet.
“You oughta get some sleep if you’re gonna be running the show tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I’m trusting you, Matsumoto. Don’t make me look like a fool.”
The sheriff walked away, his steps quicker than usual. Jun had really spooked him. He wanted to kick himself. Maybe Sho wasn’t as lonely as Jun had wagered. He bumped his head back against the tree trunk a few times, trying to clear Aiba’s wonderful brandy from his mind. It was a stupid move, stupid and thoughtless.
He got up, lazily dusting off the seat of his pants before heading back to town for the night. He’d find out what the Sheriff’s lips were like before Nagase put a bullet in him. It just wasn’t the right time, and he’d have to wait for the Sheriff to be as lonely as Jun was. The town was still deserted, until he reached Ninomiya’s saloon.
The proprietor himself was sitting out on the porch, rocking back and forth in a creaking chair with a glass of something. “Evening,” Nino offered, some crafty look in his eyes as usual. Was we he acting so cordial? Jun chose to say nothing. “Something wrong, Matsumoto? Get your heart broken?”
Jun shoved his hands in his pockets. It wouldn’t surprise him if this weasel hadn’t followed him to the edge of town. Man had ammunition now if he’d stayed long enough. “Be ready in that steeple tomorrow.”
“Be there with bells on,” Ninomiya said, raising the glass to him. “I’m sure you’ll have the Sheriff covered?”
He ignored Nino, letting his tired feet carry him back to Aiba’s, the other man’s chortling laughter following him the whole way.
Chapter: 4/13
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): no pairings yet
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, violence.
Summary: A saloon owner with an enigmatic past, an idealistic sheriff, a remorseful shotgun messenger, and the town that unites them.
"Are they still burying the dead?" Nino asked, far too non-chalantly for Jun's liking. He kept quiet, though, because he wasn't stupid- just because the sheriff had left the door open didn't mean it was an invitation to continue talking to the prisoner. At least Ninomiya had stopped screaming at him, but Jun had a feeling it was only due to Ohno's presence outside the bars.
The shop owner was munching on some bread, seated on a stool with one leg significantly shorter than the others. It rocked back and forth each time he shifted his weight.
"Mm," he said, in agreement. "Think the sheriff should be back soon."
Jun wanted to yell that if Ninomiya hadn't lost his head with his shotgun, there wouldn't be any dead- but it just reminded him that Nagase's ranch hand had gotten the bad end of the shot, and the bounty on his head had no doubt been advertised already. Maybe he'd get a wanted poster out of it, if his luck was particularly bad.
"Sheriff should know better than to leave trash lying around his room," Nino said, and Jun swallowed back ire. In truth, Sho had been in a rush to leave for the funeral, to confer with Pastor White, and he'd left the key on the chest across the room. Jun had been eyeing it for the better part of the afternoon, until Ohno had come in with rations.
"You're mean when you got bars to keep you from gettin' beat," Ohno mused.
Nino made a shrill noise with his teeth. "The bars have nothing to do with it."
Jun rattled the handcuffs against the bed post a bit, just to remind them that the door was open and he could hear them. Neither seemed to take make much of it. There were footsteps heavy against the stoop out front, and the door opened with a creak.
"Evening, Mr. Ohno," the sheriff said. He sounded tired.
"Evening, sheriff."
The footsteps grew louder, until Jun could see Sho standing outside the jail bars, hands on his hips. His trousers were laden with dust from the cemetary, caked with mud around the soles.
"Came to bring in Ninomiya baked goods, then?"
Ohno shrugged, still chewing on the bread loaf in his hands. "Gotta eat, same as us."
Sho glanced through the open door, to Jun still leaning against the bed. Jun wondered if the man was ever going to let him out- his wrists were starting to get raw, and listening to Nino and Ohno yammer on for an hour had succeeded in giving him a headache. The sheriff didn't look inclined to enter yet, though, and Jun wasn't sure he wanted to press his luck. They'd come to a tenuous understanding, and ruining it wouldn't help anything.
"Maybe I should garnish some profit from the saloon to pay Pastor White for the ranch hand's funeral," he said, still looking in at Jun with an unreadable expression. "Since you were the one responsible."
"Maybe we should just shoot Matsumoto and collect on the reward," Nino spat.
"You wanted for anything?" Ohno called, leaning around Sho to look in the bedroom. Jun sighed, feeling like a painted horse in a corral.
"Probably am now," he replied.
Sho frowned, like he'd just been reminded of the predicament Jun had explained himself to be in. Jun didn't much fancy waiting around to see how high Nagase put the gold worth on him to be; if he got free, he could be halfway to California within a week, and out of the ex-Confederate's jurisdiction.
There was a pause, and then a shout from outside- Spanish.
The sheriff whirled, hands going to his holsters immediately before he turned again on his heel to grab for his shotgun instead.
"Shit," he hissed through clenched teeth, cocking the weapon and checking the rounds. "Got here faster than I thought they would."
"Hey," Jun called, but Sho was already out the door, leaving dust in his wake.
--
There were three of them, and none of them the ones he'd shot at the day prior. Sho didn't even bother to pretend the shotgun in his hands was just for show; there was only one reason for them to show back up, and he wasn't stupid enough to think it otherwise.
"Evening, boys," he said, hoping his tone sounded dangerous enough.
"Cock-sucker," one cursed, spitting on the dirt.
"Save it," another said. Hands closed around holsters, and the one on the far right cocked his own shotgun held between mud-caked fingers. "He ain't the one we after this time."
Sho didn't miss the emphasis on 'this time'- but he also didn't miss the part before. The Sandburg Boys were headed like marshals on a mission towards his station, directly at him, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what they were looking for inside.
"My jurisdiction," he said, and the wound on his arm flared up something awful, as in warning. "You boys get on outta here. I don't want this to go sour again."
"We ain't here for you, sheriff," the one with the shotgun warned. "Count your blessin's that Mendoza wants the one who fired first on his noose before you."
"Back off," Sho said, raising his gun. He didn't want to shoot again- memories of the boy and the saw and the hazy, pain-lidden screams in Spanish hadn't left his mind yet- but he wouldn't hesitate. Not this time. His finger arched around the trigger, and then there was a flash of movement behind him; he hadn't noticed a fourth figure lingering in the late day shadows of the buildings, not until the arm had come down and all he could feel was the splitting pain as the barrel of the rifle hit him square in the head.
--
He heard Sho fall with a muffled groan before he heard Nino's hiss of a warning and Ohno's stool scraping across the wood. There was already blood hanging around his neck, settling on his shoulders; he'd tasted the copper of regret for the last four years, and he didn't want more of it. Ninomiya was behind bars and unarmed, and it wouldn't even be a fight. It would be an easy massacre, and they'd probably take Ohno down with them.
Jun was digging his heels into the wood boards before he registered his own movement. The bed was heavy and squealed something awful, but it wasn't the worse thing he'd dragged along behind him. The handcuffs were cutting into his wrists with the exertion of moving everything, but there was fire screaming in his veins to keep him going. He only had to get across the room to the key.
Close enough, and he kicked at the chest- the candle fell with a smack, and then the key with a ping. Ohno was shouting, and it sounded like he was trying to slam the door before the boys got there. Jun reached for the key, fumbling it between his fingers enough to open the lock. He'd gotten out of worse scrapes before- but the pressure didn't help.
More shouting, and a shot was fired. From the splintering wood that followed, Jun guessed it was at the ceiling.
The restraints clicked open, and Jun was moving towards the dresser holding his belt as soon as the iron slipped away.
He stumbled out the door with both revolvers palmed. One of the boys was coming through the doorway and a quick shot to the forehead put him down, between the eyes. The next barreled through after and Jun caught him in the chest. It was easier standing on the other side of the portal, gave him cover and something to shoot at. Nino was hollering up a storm within the bars, and Jun tried to ignore it.
A bullet flew past his shoulder, ricocheting off the bars. Nino dove behind the bed and Ohno surged into Sho's bedroom. Jun had himself behind the corner, firing across his chest without looking twice, in quick succession. He didn't seem to hit much, but at least the shots slowed them down- or warned them to be more careful, either or.
Another shot hit the corner too near his position, and he cursed.
"Wait," Nino called suddenly, in the cell- he was focused on the doorway, with one finger in the air. "Wait- go!"
Jun didn't stop to think the man could be doing little more than to set him up. He just threw himself around the corner and emptied as many rounds from both weapons as he could, one after another. He caught one in the arm, and then in the leg, and the last in the stomach, sending him to the ground with anguished wheezes.
The smoke lingered in the air as Jun slowly climbed to his feet, re-holstering the revolvers. From the silence beyond the stoop, he gathered there had only been four.
"Ohno?" he called, over his shoulder.
"Alive," came the answer. It was all Jun needed to hear. He stepped over one of the bodies, heel managing to land square in the growing pool of blood near the door, and went out into the sun. The sheriff was lying on his back in the dirt, stirring slightly. Jun knelt, giving him a quick once over for injuries.
"Sheriff?" he asked. There didn't seem to be any blood- they'd just hit him, then, to knock him out. His head would hurt something terrible, but it was better than patching back up a bullet wound. He got a groan as a response, and reached to skim his fingers across the man's forehead. "Sheriff?"
Sho's eyes opened into slits, and he squinted up at Jun.
"Y- 'posed to be handcuffed to my bed," he mumbled.
"Got out," Jun stated the obvious. He stood, and held out a hand to help Sho to his feet. The sheriff was unsteady, but kept his own, raising a hand to his head as if woozy.
"Speaking of getting out," came the shout from inside the structure, "fancyin' on letting me out any time soon?"
Ohno poked his head out of the station, calmly surveying the bodies littering the doorway.
"Think you've got trouble, now," he said.
"Had trouble 'fore them," Sho mumbled, but Ohno was right; four dead from Mendoza's gang, and Jun's guns still smoking. The sheriff had a heap on his hands if he didn't play his cards right. And from the look of the planned ambush, he was already targeted for the noose.
"Go see the doc," Jun told Sho, with a hand on his arm to help point him in the right direction. "Once your head is back on straight, you can plan your next move."
------
Late, late, late, Aiba berated himself. Always late. He’d been hammering in his shop, and that was good and loud enough to keep him from hearing the gunshots down the way. Some deputy he was. As he hurried over, ears still ringing from his work, he found Matsumoto outside, holding onto the sheriff. Had Matsumoto escaped and done something to him?
His fears were unfounded as he saw the bodies of four men, more of the Sandburg gang from the look of them. Ohno was standing in the doorway of the sheriff station, his usual expression on his face. What the hell had happened?
“Sheriff, you alright?”
Sho looked up, and Aiba watched him move a hand to his head. “Got knocked around a bit,” the sheriff told him. “We got trouble coming.”
“You need to go get your head looked at,” Matsumoto was saying, patting Sho on the shoulder like they were old buddies now. Aiba was pleased to see some people in this town getting along.
Four corpses meant four more graves, and Aiba didn’t much like that. If Mendoza kept losing men, he’d send more and more, and they wouldn’t be able to protect the town at that rate. Sho pointed at Aiba, hand wobbling as he started stumbling off to Doc Ogura’s. “I’ll let the doctor know about his newest burials. You…you lock him up.”
Jun looked annoyed. Maybe he’d overestimated the level of affection between sheriff and gunman, Aiba realized. “You can’t be serious,” Jun said. “I just saved your hide.”
“You broke out of custody. Aiba, would you ignore his yammering and handcuff him?”
Aiba was torn. It was clear that Matsumoto had left the Sheriff’s custody, but in doing so, he’d fended off the attackers. Ohno stepped down from the porch. “Matsumoto here saved my life.” The baker looked back, raising his voice slightly. “And he saved Ninomiya’s too.”
Sho snorted and kept shuffling off until he disappeared ‘round back of the Doc’s place. Well, it had been a while since Aiba had had to make any sort of tough decisions. If Matsumoto had broken out and protected the sheriff and the other men, then the town owed him a great deal of thanks. But he’d taken advantage of the situation to break out of custody.
Jun was eyeing him, and Aiba knew he’d have to make a decision sooner or later. But if he let Jun go free, what would happen with Nino? First things first, he had to deal with the bodies. Townsfolk didn’t need to have corpses in their main thoroughfare two days in a row.
He clapped Ohno on the shoulder. “We need to get these men in the ground. Can you get Pastor White?” The baker nodded, always knowing which way the wind was blowing. He headed off towards the pastor’s house, and Jun was still standing there. He hadn’t taken advantage of Sho when he was knocked back, and he hadn’t made a move on Ninomiya. Maybe the man could be trusted, if only a little bit. He’d let Sho yell at him later.
“Matsumoto, you’re gonna help with the burials or I’ll put you back in the shackles. What do you say?”
Jun holstered his weapons and crossed his arms. “Find me a shovel.”
-
He watched Jun and Aiba lifting bodies together, getting them onto a cart Ohno had wheeled over. They kicked up dirt as they headed out of Nino’s range of vision, off to the town graveyard just beyond the church. He was still fuming, still raging. Didn’t matter how many men Jun Matsumoto fought off, did it? He’d always be the man who let her die. Let some bandits steal her innocence and slice open her throat.
But the urge to throttle the other man, to feel Jun’s life between his fingers as he snuffed it out was lessening. There were far worse things on his plate than dealing with revenge, much as it pained him to admit it. Mendoza had sent those men not to antagonize Sakurai this time. Nope, Mendoza wanted him dead. And Nino didn’t much like the thought of his head being the target of any of the Sandburgs’ trigger happy fingers.
The sky darkened as they carted away the last of Mendoza’s men, and Jun did everything but look in his direction whenever he passed by. There’d be no forgiveness, Nino was sure of that much. But he’d have to save his ire for another day. It was another hour or so before Sho came in, still walking a bit slow, but the doc hadn’t bandaged him up.
“Bet you gotta nice bump on the back of your head,” he said with a laugh as the other man closed the door and went back to the pile of papers on his desk.
Reporting back like a good little soldier. When was Sheriff Sakurai going to get it through his thick skull that there was no such thing as an account of events out here? Every man took a side, and none of those sides might be in the right. There was no way to tell the fat, rich good for nothings in Santa Fe what really happened. And they sure as hell didn’t care, so long as there weren’t any Indian attacks.
Sho said nothing as he lit the oil lamp on the wall, arranging the papers with a heavy sigh. Nino was bored, quite frankly. “Where’s Matsumoto? Shouldn’t you be getting cozy again soon?”
The sheriff’s face twisted into annoyance, and Nino knew he’d found a good place to dig on in. “Both were awful quiet last night,” he continued, laying back on the mattress and staring up at the leaky ceiling. He’d been sleeping, had slept through it all, but it would be out of character for him not to rile the sheriff up with insinuations and implications. Hadn’t Sho done the same to him the day before? “You let him share your bed, handcuffs and all?”
“He’s enjoying Aiba’s hospitality tonight,” Sho replied, teeth clenched in irritation.
Nino chuckled. “You gonna miss him?”
He heard the sheriff’s chair scrape back against the floor, and soon enough the man was standing at the bars. “You got a mouth on you, Ninomiya, and sometimes I wanna smack it closed.”
“Why don’t you open up this cell and go for it?”
Sho sighed, and Nino imagined his head wasn’t feeling so great. “I’m letting you loose tomorrow. You try to mess with Matsumoto…you get within ten feet and you’ll be rotting in here until you’re begging on your hands and knees to get out.”
The thought of freedom, getting back to his saloon and away from the iron bars was a fine thought indeed. But there was no way to run a business with the storm clouds looming over the town now. “What you planning to do about Mendoza’s boys?” This was a topic of definite concern, seeing as how they wanted him dead.
“It’s pretty obvious that word’s gonna get back that we’ve now killed five of the Sandburgs. They’ll send a whole big crew in a few days, I can almost promise you that.” Sho looked exhausted. Maybe he really hadn’t given a whole lot of thought to what a sheriff really had to deal with. It wasn’t all smiles and taking care of the drunk and disorderly.
“And?”
Sho gave him a dirty look. “And we’re having a town meeting tomorrow about the best way to defend Rapid Springs. Aiba’s gonna coordinate getting the women and children out of town, maybe over to Broken Trail for a while until the dust settles.”
Nino raised an eyebrow at this. He wondered if Sho would be kind enough to ensure the safety of Scarlet, May and the other girls. Or did Sheriff Sakurai’s definition of women differ from his? “I suppose that’s why I’m getting sprung.”
It pained Sho to say his next words, and that gave Nino a slice of happiness. “As someone who’s lived here for so long, you are definitely an asset in planning any sort of defense.”
He considered this. It would be hard to not accidentally shoot Jun in the back during a firefight, trying to convince Sho it had been a misfire. Nino kept those thoughts to himself. “And what about your gunslinger? Your savior, as it were?” He stifled the knowledge that Jun had been as much Sho’s savior as his own that day.
“What about him?”
“He crawling back to his boss? You letting him leave?”
Sho looked angry again, stepping away from the bars and off to his room. “He’s offered his services. Claims we're screwed without him.”
With that, Sho slammed his door, leaving Nino alone in the candlelit room. This sure was a development. It was clear the sheriff resented Jun’s presence. He obviously didn’t like anyone else trying to play enforcer around these parts. Nino tucked that little bit of info away, turning over on the mattress. Sure would be a town meeting to remember.
------
It felt wrong to be discussing a firefight in the church, but it was the only place they had for a town meeting hall, and the conversation had to be addressed. At the very least Sho knew the citizens were serious about the threat, since they amassed within a half an hour of Aiba spreading the news of the meeting 'round town. Two days of gunfire in a row, and the blood of Rapid Springs was rapidly running cold with dread; he wouldn't have to do much to inspire some action out of the folks gathered in the rickety pews, that much was certain.
Aiba was waving people further inside the building, near the doors.
"What's your plan?" came the answer from behind him, near the shadows of the dais.
"Get the women and children out," Sho replied without turning. He was already sick of seeing the self-satisfied smirk on Matsumoto's mouth; the man didn't have to offer his aid, but Sho wasn't required to accept, either, and he didn't wish to feel anymore like Jun was doing him a huge favor by sticking around. "Stand our ground."
"How you gonna do that?" Jun asked.
"With guns," Sho snapped, "and maybe a few bullets."
There was a snort from Ninomiya, who was leaning against the wall beams with his arms crossed over his chest.
"I was actually thinking of using the frills in the saloon cabinets," he quipped. "Think Matsumoto will look fine in a dress, don't you? I'm envisioning lace, maybe a nice brooch."
"If you aren't going to offer anything helpful, keep quiet," Sho warned, itching to throw the man back in the damn jail cell. He might have to deal with him at night, but at least it would silence him during the strategic meeting.
"Was helpful," Nino said. "Jun can distract them with his legs while we shoot."
"Not making enough with your whores?" Matsumoto asked. His voice was dangerously low. "Maybe if the service in that shit-hole improved you'd see a rise in your sales. Can't be the pitch, that's for sure."
Nino's face contorted into an angry scowl, and Sho just held a hand up- within days he'd be seeing a host of Mendoza's lackies on the streets, and he had to deal with quibbling from behind the scenes, as well? His temples ached something fierce already.
"I'll throw you both in that cell, mark my words," the sheriff warned. "So shut it and keep your mouths closed for five minutes while I sort things out."
From the doorway of the church, Aiba flashed him an okay sign- that was the majority of the town, then, or at least the able-bodied half. Ohno was near the far corner, scanning the pews in case something went south, and Pastor White was next to him, holding a bible like a lifeline. Sho stepped up to the pulpit, feeling a bit humbled to be behind it; usually he was watching the sermon delivered from the point, and he was certainly no clergy-man.
"I'm sure you're all aware of the pressure we're under now," he started, "and I know ya'll are waiting for something to be done about it. First thing tomorrow morning, Pastor White is taking the women and children up north to Clearwater."
There was a ripple through the crowd, murmurs growing.
"The rest of you are to stay here. We need every gun we can get." Sho resisted glancing back at the two standing behind him, almost regretting his own words.
"And what then?" called a man from the pews.
"You just focus on getting your innocents out of here," Sho told him, "and let me do the rest."
There was a tap on his shoulder as the crowd began to talk amongst themselves, and Pastor White, who stepped forward, and Sho turned. Jun was standing behind him with a frown on his features.
"We should divide the men into two groups," he said. "Keep some on both sides- gives us a wider range to shoot from."
"And more possibilities to hit each other," Nino pointed out. "You figurin' every man in this place knows his way around with shotgun barrels?"
"Well, it's better than laying low and waiting for them to ambush us," Jun said. He ground his teeth, jaw clenched.
"Can't be an ambush if we know it's coming," Nino replied.
"Can be if we ain't prepared. And we need to settle along both sides of the main stretch to give us the most advantage."
Ninomiya chuckled. "So what? You in charge then?"
"No, he isn't," Sho butt in, giving Jun a warning glance. The other man was grievously overstepping his bounds; it was still Sho's town, Sho's rules, and if Matsumoto wasn't going to play by them, he'd throw him out. He didn't need the guns that bad- or so he told himself as the ire swept through his form, clenching his muscles.
Jun bristled visibly.
"Look, sheriff, you should take my advice," he said. "I've done this before, and you haven't."
"Just because I've never done this doesn't mean I'm inept," Sho fired back.
"That's usually what the term implies," Nino added dryly. The crowd was still mobilizing among themselves- Pastor White was taking a head count of all the women and children who would be accompanying him, jotting notes down on the paper in his hands. Ohno appeared to be helping count as well, though by the frustrated look on his face, he kept having to start his numbering over again as bodies kept shifting and moving around them.
"You accepted my help-" Jun started.
"Doesn't mean I acquiesced my badge," Sho interrupted, ears ringing. "You're here to help, not to lead."
"This really isn't the time to get caught up on semantics," Jun said.
Another chuckle from Ninomiya's position, and Sho was beginning to get very sick of the derisive sound.
"Good luck un-knotting his trousers," the saloon owner said. "Might as well just flick that star right on over to your jacket, Matsumoto, for all the good it's going to do."
He was moving before he really thought about it. Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was the impending shots he'd be firing, or maybe it was just a culmination of the arguing around him. Didn't really matter, cause Sho had Nino against the wall in the blink of an eye, one arm pressed tight against the man's throat to pin him in place.
"I said I needed your gun," he hissed, inches from Ninomiya's face, "not your mouth. Now keep it fucking closed or I'll do it for you. Doc's got stitches that would work just fine for that."
There was murder roiling furiously in Nino's eyes, but with Sho's forearm smashing his windpipe, he at least had the good sense to keep quiet.
"Now either you follow my lead, or you make with the pastor to Clearwater," Sho continued, keeping his wrist where it was and glancing over at Jun. The gunslinger's face was dark, but he made no move to shift to Ohno's position near the doorway. "What's it gonna be?"
"You're a right bastard," Nino choked out.
"Well at least we have that established," Sho told him. The anger was pounding in his ears, but the ringing had stopped; his blood was singing with fire. He stepped back, letting Ninomiya half-tumble to the ground, rubbing his throat and glaring like it could kill. He ignored it, and glanced at Matsumoto again.
"Feel like pushin' your luck here?" he asked.
"Ain't pushing anything," Jun snapped, "least of all luck. We don't have any."
Sho wiped his hands on his trousers, palms oddly sweaty.
"Then we make what we can."
Nino stood again, glowering. His throat was red from the pressure, but it didn't look like it would purple by morning- he'd make a bigger show of it, alright, Sho had no doubt about that. It was worth it to get the man to shut his trap and let Sho think straight for a minute.
He bit his bottom lip, staring at the toes of his boots.
"Maybe we can use this," Jun suggested, finger pointing upwards towards the ceiling.
"The church?" Sho asked. It sounded like a suggestion rather than a demand, so he took it.
"Steeple," the other man clarified. "Best vantage point in town. I could go up-"
"No," Sho said, shaking his head. Jun trailed off, looking dark but thankfully silent. "You're quick with the draw, and I need you on the street. Aim's better than most of the folks 'round here, and I'm not gonna waste it."
He leveled him with a hard look.
"If you're still offerin'."
An almost imperceptible nod was the answer. There was an uncoiling in Sho's chest in relief. He looked back to Nino. From the hard set of the saloon owner's jaw, he knew he'd probably pushed him too far, but he didn't rightly care. He just needed his help, one way or the other- friendship wasn't something he was aiming for in light of the situation.
"What about you?" he asked, finally.
"What about me?" Nino shot back, obviously no longer in a remotely giving mood.
"You gonna help, or leave with the rest?" It was bad form to needle at Nino's courage, but at least Sho knew that poking at the coals would keep the fire alive. It had come to blows below the belt, and he was too tired to be ashamed of his aim.
"I ain't doing it for you," Nino ground out.
"Didn't say I wanted you to," Sho replied. Nino glanced over to Ohno and Pastor White, trying to calm the growing commotion in the crowd, and to Aiba standing near the door with his back against the wood, near the narthex of the building. Sho could almost see the cogs in the man's head spinning; he didn't think himself half qualified to know what was going on up there, other than he was hoping Nino hated him enough to be driven to prove his worth.
"I'll take the steeple," he said, in a way that left no room for argument. One thing about Ninomiya- even backed into a corner he commanded some loft in the discussion.
"Fine," Sho agreed. It was- he'd rather be on the ground, where his shotgun had more force behind it. "We got a day, maybe two- Mendoza won't give us much time. He knows we'll be mobilizing."
"Make sure all the guns have ammo," Jun said. "Give the men a few packs extra, and tell them to keep armed at all times."
It still irked him, but at least his rage had largely passed- Matsumoto was at least attempting to pretend like his comments were suggestions rather than demands.
"I'll put Ohno in charge of it," Sho said.
Across the nave, Aiba was waving at him, gesturing largely- Pastor White appeared to be done, it seemed, with aggregating the women and children into the traveling group.
"Stay alert," Sho warned the two near him, returning the motion with his left hand so the deputy knew he'd seen it. "Don't know when they'll hit."
"Never do," Jun mused.
Ninomiya glared darkly at Sho, pushing himself away from the wall with both hands. "No," he disagreed. "Sometimes you do."
Sho let him leave, because he was reasonably certain the man hadn't been talking about Mendoza, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to dive into the implications just yet. He had too much else on his plate already.
-------
“And I swear to Jesus, Mary and Joseph that he got his foot caught in the stirrup and tripped!” Aiba was telling him in between bits of laughter, and Jun could barely keep from chuckling himself. It had been a long time since he’d really laughed, the carefree laughter of a man like Aiba.
“This was his first time?”
“Well,” Aiba said, pouring and filling his glass with brandy again. They’d both had enough, but there’d been a scout down past the creek earlier that evening. Mendoza’s crew would be there before high noon, Jun knew it. If he was going down shooting, then tomorrow would probably be that day. Didn’t hurt to get some good liquor in his belly beforehand.
“Well, it wasn’t his first time on a horse. I mean, it was his first time riding into town. Whole place was waiting for him, and he comes in. And you know the Sheriff, he was smilin’ like a sunbeam with those pretty Yankee teeth, and he halts the horse. So he’s getting down, ready to walk up and start shaking hands with the townsfolk and what do you know, the guy gets his boot stuck on the stirrup! And bam!”
“Bam?” Jun repeated, downing the brandy with a hearty snort.
“Bam! Right on his ass!” Aiba doubled over in his chair, smacking the faded upholstery with his free hand. “Not a good first impression, mind. Not a good one at all.”
Jun finished the glass and coughed, unable to control himself. “That’s shameful, is what that is, Mr. Aiba. Damn shameful.”
Aiba waggled his finger drunkenly. “Now don’t you repeat a word of that to the Sheriff. He was embarrassed enough.”
He made an x in the middle of his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
The deputy fumbled with the cap for the brandy bottle and got to his feet. “I’m turning in. If we’re shooting holes in people tomorrow, I need my beauty sleep.”
“Good night.” Aiba headed off, leaving Jun alone in his humble living room. Sharing quarters with the blacksmith was a hell of a lot less complicated and strange than being cuffed to the sheriff’s bed. Aiba was simple-minded but not dumb. He didn’t pry and he didn’t nag, and in another life, Jun might have been happy to have been the man’s friend. But he was dealt the hand he’d been given, and Rapid Springs wasn’t his home.
He set down his glass and headed out onto Aiba’s porch, leaning against the post and surveying the town. Tomorrow, Mendoza’s boys would be there. If they were smart, they were already camped out close, maybe Friendship Pass. There’d be a good thirty or forty gunmen, if Mendoza wasn’t as dumb as his reputation implied. Jun held out his hand, extending his index finger like a gun barrel.
“Bam!” he muttered to himself, targeting a few barrels visible in the distance. “Bam!” This time, from behind the church. Would they approach from the north entrance by the sheriff’s place or from the south, by the church graveyard? Or would they sneak amongst the houses and cut the town down the middle.
Most of Sakurai’s plan trusted Mendoza’s boys to play it safe and split up, half coming from the north and the other half from the south. Jun wanted men in the houses, aiming from windows behind curtains. Ninomiya had declared his place off limits for such plans, the bastard, even though his saloon was centrally located and ideal as one of the only buildings in town with a second story vantage point. The man himself would be hiding out in the church steeple with a rifle - if Nino wanted him dead, tomorrow would be the time.
He’d spent the better part of yesterday and today training the townsfolk how to properly fire shotguns. For a podunk little hamlet at the edge of nowhere, there were surprisingly few men who could hit the broadside of a barn. They were more concerned with their businesses or their animals than with their protection. He surveyed the town from Aiba’s porch one last time, hopping down the stairs with a bounce to his step from the deputy’s fine stores of brandy.
There was a nice breeze. Not enough to kick up the dirt, but enough to ruffle Jun’s hair and cool the back of his neck. There was a light on at Ninomiya’s, but Jun didn’t need to press his luck. Nino might have been a terrible shot, but his saloon was sacred ground. Home territory. If Jun set one foot inside, he’d technically be trespassing. Or Nino would spin the tale that way. No, he’d keep going.
Sheriff’s light was out. He was probably in his ritzy pajamas, talking in his sleep about his mama like he had the night Jun had been cuffed to his bed. Jun kept walking, past the wooden posts designating the beginning of the town proper. There was a creek bed up this way, probably dried out. An old gnarled tree, roots poking up out of the ground, was one of the only patches of shade between the town buildings and Friendship Pass.
Jun remembered the unforgiving openness of the land here. He’d never forget it, crawling on his belly like a snake to tell the old sheriff how they’d been attacked. How he’d been shot and left for dead, but he’d fallen under some of her clothes and been forgotten. Nobody’d remembered to slash his throat and listen to his blood gurgle.
He sat heavily in between a couple roots, staring at the dry creek bed, smooth stones lining the bottom. What was Nagase waiting for? It’d been days now, and that boy should have gotten back to the man’s ranch by now. Had Nagase caught wind of Rapid Springs’ troubles, figuring that Mendoza would take care of his problem? It would leave Nagase above suspicion if Jun took a bullet in the brain the following morning.
There were steps behind him. Not the shifty, uneven steps of Ninomiya or the confident, carefree strides of the deputy. “Planning to bolt?” Sho asked him, one boot perched on the root by Jun’s elbow.
“You need me.”
The boot scraped back and forth over the root. Nervous tension. “You know we don’t have the money to pay you.”
“Don’t want your money.”
Sho laughed. “You get a personality transplant when I wasn’t looking?”
Jun shrugged. “I done Rapid Springs a disservice. Just repaying her.”
The sheriff shifted, leaning his back against the tree, standing just next to him now. “You atoning? I talked to Aiba. There was nothing you could have…”
He looked up, anger building in his gut at Sho’s presumption. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what I coulda done. You have no idea.”
Sho hummed a bit, a tune Jun didn’t recognize. Probably some fancy thing he’d heard at a recital or orchestra or other time-wasting activity people back east liked to do. It mingled with the crickets, and a coyote long in the distance howling for its pack. He kept staring. The night sky was open, full of stars and a crescent moon. Peaceful almost, given the coming day. The calm before the storm, as it were.
“You in the choir, Sheriff?”
The other stopped humming. “Me? No, no way. Not since I was a little boy at Sunday school.”
Jun closed his eyes, knowing the sheriff wasn’t going to try anything funny. He wasn’t Ninomiya, for one thing. “What kinda stuff they teach in Sunday school in Boston?”
“Hmm?” Sho crouched down, his knee brushing briefly against the sleeve of Jun’s shirt. “Probably the same stuff out here. Jesus and the disciples, David and Goliath, Cain and Abel.”
He nodded. “Oh yeah. We got Cain and Abel out here too.”
“Man slaying his brother cause God loved him more. Loved the shepherd who cared for his flock more than the man who tended his fields with an equal love.” The sheriff sighed as his knees cracked a bit, and he readjusted, sitting with his back to the tree at Jun’s side. “Guess I came out here thinking I’d be Abel.”
The alcohol was still playing tricks on his brain, making him warm despite the chilly night air, and he moved a little closer so he could hear Sho plainly. “What do you mean, Abel?”
Sho shook his head. “I don’t know I…I guess I thought I’d be shepherding these folks in a way, pleasing everyone by caring and loving and protecting them.” He laughed quietly. “Feel more like Cain every day. Workin’ my ass off and it doesn’t even matter.”
Jun sighed. “You comin’ to me for advice, Sheriff? Because I thought you hated the sight of me.”
“Not here for advice.”
“Then why are you here?”
The other man was quiet for a few moments, and Jun watched the moon, wondering if he’d get to see it again the following night. “I’m just tired. Tired of people like Ninomiya.”
“Tired of people like me?” he interjected, and the other man actually cracked a smile.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m definitely tired of people like you.” Sho inclined his leg, resting an elbow on his knee. “I just want them to see me and know I’m not here for myself. I’m here to help them. Here to make this place safe.”
The other man’s body heat inches away was messing with his already muddled mind, blurring his thoughts. He was still pretty and new with his pajamas and his books and his smile. He just didn’t fit out here. Jun gave the Sheriff a playful punch in the arm, letting his hand rest on the man’s shoulder. “You Yankees. Always so regretful and wanting the whole world to know you’re suffering. Wearing your hearts on your sleeves.”
“Should I bottle everything like you?” Sho asked him, the whites of his eyes bright underneath the stars. “Not like I go telling everyone around here what’s eating me, but you just have it all packed in, all internal. You’re a tough nut to crack.”
“Ain’t I a piece of work?” Jun said with a chuckle, letting his hand drift down lazily from the other man’s shoulder, landing on his thigh.
Sho was so caught up in his own misery that he didn’t seem to notice. “Maybe I should just go back east. Just go back and tell my father he was right.”
“Maybe you should.”
The sheriff sighed. “Thanks. You’re real encouraging.”
The man’s leg was warm, almost hot under Jun’s fingers. He smelled like rolled tobacco and gun oil, and the hint of some clean Yankee soap. It had been so long, just so damn long since he’d been close to another person he didn’t have to toss bills at first. Sho was arrogant and self-righteous, but at the same time he was a kind soul and doubted himself far more than anyone in the town possibly could. He was out of place, and Jun was always like that, too, in his own fucked up way.
The brandy gave him courage and his desperation and loneliness didn’t hurt either as he grabbed the Sheriff on impulse, eager to see if the man’s lips were as soft as his hands. But his mouth only got the side of the man’s cheek as he turned away.
“You’re drunk,” Sho said, pulling away.
It wasn’t a no. But it sure as hell wasn’t a yes. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I am.” He felt his stomach knot as Sho’s body heat disappeared, and he got to his feet.
“You oughta get some sleep if you’re gonna be running the show tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I’m trusting you, Matsumoto. Don’t make me look like a fool.”
The sheriff walked away, his steps quicker than usual. Jun had really spooked him. He wanted to kick himself. Maybe Sho wasn’t as lonely as Jun had wagered. He bumped his head back against the tree trunk a few times, trying to clear Aiba’s wonderful brandy from his mind. It was a stupid move, stupid and thoughtless.
He got up, lazily dusting off the seat of his pants before heading back to town for the night. He’d find out what the Sheriff’s lips were like before Nagase put a bullet in him. It just wasn’t the right time, and he’d have to wait for the Sheriff to be as lonely as Jun was. The town was still deserted, until he reached Ninomiya’s saloon.
The proprietor himself was sitting out on the porch, rocking back and forth in a creaking chair with a glass of something. “Evening,” Nino offered, some crafty look in his eyes as usual. Was we he acting so cordial? Jun chose to say nothing. “Something wrong, Matsumoto? Get your heart broken?”
Jun shoved his hands in his pockets. It wouldn’t surprise him if this weasel hadn’t followed him to the edge of town. Man had ammunition now if he’d stayed long enough. “Be ready in that steeple tomorrow.”
“Be there with bells on,” Ninomiya said, raising the glass to him. “I’m sure you’ll have the Sheriff covered?”
He ignored Nino, letting his tired feet carry him back to Aiba’s, the other man’s chortling laughter following him the whole way.