Happy Holidays to everyone!
Title: A Bang-up Job in Carson Wells
Author: Diane/dswdiane aka Not Kilt Boy
Written for: The community! Enjoy the hijinks!
Characters: Fitz, Connor, Cory Raines, Matthew McCormick, Methos from HL, Newt Call, Mattie Shaw, Clay Mosby, Austin from Lonesome Dove, the Outlaw Years
Crossover: Highlander and Lonesome Dove, the Outlaw Years
Rating: Gen
Warnings: Bad guys get killed.
Author's Notes: It is important to this story to know that Matthew McCormick was Cory Raines' first teacher after Cory became an Immortal. It might also help to know that Matthew and Clay Mosby were played by the same actor, Eric McCormack. It also helps in reading this to imagine that both Mosby and McCormick speak with a cultured, educated, but carefully drawled, Southern accent.
Summary: Cory and Fitz are on the lam from a botched robbery in Europe. Connor is taking them to Carson Wells at the request of Colonel Clay Mosby who has asked for assistance. Adventures occur.
A Bang-up Job in Carson Wells
"These people are all barbarians," Fitz complained irately, "and I'm not speaking about the natives." He led his horse over a small hill and went on complaining. "I'm talking about these so-called former citizens of European countries who have settled in this God-forsaken endless blight of prairies and hills." He halted his horse and sneezed. "Nod do mention the Gog-forsaken endless vegetation dat makes my nose run all de time." He sneezed again, explosively.
Connor halted his own horse and looked at Fitz with little sympathy. "Did I ask you to involve yourself with Cory Raines in a robbery in which both of you idiots were seen by so many people that you had to leave Europe? Probably until you manage to outlive all of them?" He wheeled his horse and looked at Cory who was starting humming aimlessly while lifting his hands in the air in surrender.
"Did I ask you to rob a couch carrying with a diplomat from Rome, a French marquis , an English duke, and an envoy from Austria? What the hell were you thinking?" Connor demanded.
Fitz shrugged. "Um, didn't know who was in the damn coach. Just knew there was a lot of gold on board." He looked over at Cory who also shrugged but said nothing.
Cory's horse seemed to decide that his idiot rider who was holding the reins loosely aloft in the air probably had no idea what he was doing and immediately dashed off for the closest patch of tasty green items. Cory grinned, lowered his arms, tightened the reins, and stayed seated on the animal who was most disappointed. He smiled sunnily at Connor.
"I don't mind this new world, Connor," he said happily. "More sheep to fleece. More money to rob from the rich and give to the poor."
Connor groaned. Fitz sighed.
"Cory," Fitz began patiently, "The point is really not to rob the rich and give to the poor. We are the poor."
Connor sighed. "We are in the process of traveling to what will be well-paying, honest, legitimate work," he said with exaggerated patience. He looked hard at Cory and continued pointedly. "There will be no need to rob anyone, and I, for one, would be perfectly happy if you want to turn over every penny of your well-earned pay to as many of the poor as you can locate."
Cory shrugged again and pointed to grassy area almost surrounded by large stones. A stream babbled nearby. "Looks like a good place to camp," he commented. Connor nodded, halted his horse, and dismounted.
**********************************
Fitz settled in beside the campfire, happily full with the food that Connor had provided from his saddlebags along with a stewed wild hare that Cory had shot and skinned. "So, what's the name of this town again?"
Connor leaned back, his head against the saddle he planned to use as a pillow. "Carson Wells," he said. "We should be there by mid-day tomorrow."
Cory stared at Connor over the fire. "And we're going to help maintain law and order?" he said skeptically.
Connor grinned lazily. "Imagine that would be a treat for you, Cory."
Fitz chuckled and Cory shook his head. Connor looked around. "Want to draw straws for first watch? I'm ready to turn in."
Fitz pulled out his pipe and started to fill it. "I'll take it. I'll wake you in a few hours, Connor."
The other two settled into their bedrolls and started to drowse. Fitz leaned back against a rock and experimented with blowing smoke rings.
****************************************
Fitz barely heard the slight crack of a twig and rose suddenly to his feet, drawing his gun. He ducked behind the rock and stared intently in the direction of the sound he'd heard.
"Drop it," a voice commanded from nearby.
Fitz steadied his gun on the top of the rock. "I don't think so," he sang out.
Connor rolled out of his bedding and dodged behind another rock as did Cory. All three men aimed their weapons at a fourth man holding a gun on them from behind his own rock.
"You can all just stand down," a female voice ordered. "There ain't no point in this kinda stand-off unless we all find out we're really enemies of some kind."
Connor looked over his rock and saw a blonde woman standing behind Cory and holding a rifle aimed directly at Cory's head and vulnerable neck. "Well, ma'am," he said gallantly. "To what circumstance do we owe this unprovoked attack on peacefully sleeping travelers? I'm Connor MacLeod. May I ask who you are?"
"I'm Mattie Shaw," the woman said quietly. "And that's my fiancé, Newt Call, that all three of you fellas are aiming your pistols at. We're on our way to Carson Wells so I can re-open my gun shop, and Call can ask for his job back as sheriff." The blond, scruffy looking man slightly rolled his eyes at the woman and immediately refocused his gaze back on the other three men.
Connor holstered his gun, came out from behind the rock, and swept himself into a gracious bow. "Then we have no reason to think of ourselves of enemies, ma'am. We're on our way to Carson Wells ourselves, at the request of Colonel Mosby."
Call's eyes narrowed and he glared. "And just what did Mosby request of you?"
"He seemed to think that the law enforcement in Carson Wells was in need of assistance and that I and my friends could help." Connor said mildly.
Call continued to glare. "Meaning that he wanted more of his bully boys to help him stay in control-"
"Shut up, Newt," Mattie said quietly. "Mosby's not a bad man, and we don't know these fellas. There's time enough to judge."
Call lowered his gun. "How do you know Mosby?" he demanded of Connor.
Connor contemplated Call and said calmly and evenly, "At the end of the War Between the States, I was Union officer. I met up with Mosby who was a Colonel of the Confederate forces. There were Union troops who were ignoring the peace accords and still pillaging Confederate homes and plantations. I joined forces with him to subdue the insurgent forces."
Call blinked.
Connor nodded. "I helped him disarm, imprison, and if necessary, even, kill Union forces who were still pillaging Southern homes. You have a problem with that?"
Newt shook his head and asked acidly, "And if Mosby is known to be taking advantage of innocent folks in his way, whose side will you be on?"
Connor blinked and looked seriously at Call. "I know Mosby," he said. "He is an honorable man. And I am an honorable man. I'll take the side of whomever is in the right. And I pledge my companions to follow me on the side of what is right." He looked at Fitz and Cory and made it clear that he expected him to follow his lead.
Fitz and Cory both holstered their weapons and came out to the fire. Cory pulled a flask from his saddle bag and held it out to the two strangers. "Would either of you care for some whiskey?"
Mattie smiled and sat down cross-legged at the low burning camp fire. "Don't mind if I do," she said taking the flask from Cory and taking a swallow. She passed it on to Call who was still looking wary. He took it and sat down himself.
Fitz gave an admiring look to Mattie, appreciating the way her trousers and fitted shirt displayed her graceful and lithe young body. "Um, gun shop?" he said curiously.
Call moved to sit a little more closely to Mattie and took a swig from the flask, passing it on to Connor. Mattie nodded, "I'm a gun smith."
***********************************
Connor took the next watch as Fitz and Cory settled back down to sleep. Call and Mattie had moved their wagon closer and bedded down nearby.
Connor leaned back against a rock and thought about what he had learned as the others had chatted. He didn't think that Call and Mattie had been engaged for long and it certainly seemed to him that Mattie's commitment to Call was conditional upon Call following through on some changes in his way of life. Connor wasn't really very clear what Call's way of life had been before, but he was fairly certain it hadn't been peaceful. On the other hand, asking to "get back" his job as the sheriff of Carson Wells didn't sound like a life of non-violence, but it seemed to be what Mattie expected.
It also seemed clear and obvious that Call didn't care for Mosby. Connor wondered if the feeling was mutual. He also wondered why Call thought Mosby might have been hiring "bully boys." That didn't sound like the Mosby that Connor had known, but years of life had a way of changing people. The sky seemed to be lightening in the east, and Connor sighed. They'd soon be up and on the trail again with none of them having had much sleep.
*****************************************
Mosby was easily spotted when Connor and his companions reached town slightly ahead of Call and Mattie. Mosby was pacing up and down outside the sheriff's office, calling out orders to a group of men standing in front. He glanced up at the sound of hoofs, and called out a glad greeting, jumping down from the walkway, and coming to meet the men.
"Thank God, you're here, Major." He reached out a hand to Connor as he swung down off his horse and clasped the hand with a smile.
"I go by Connor MacLeod, now, Colonel," Connor said easily. "These men with me are Hugh Fitzcairn and Cory Raines. We've come to accept the work you offered."
"Greetings and welcome to Carson Wells, gentlemen. Your help is sorely needed," Mosby said.
"I usually answer to Fitz," Fitz said as he shook hands with Mosby. Cory was staring in amazement at the Colonel, shook hands a slight tentatively, and visibly sighed with relief. Connor chuckled.
"I should have warned you," Connor said quietly. He glanced at Mosby and explained, "You look remarkably like a gentleman with whom Cory has had a long and complicated relationship." Mosby nodded as Cory muttered something that sounded like, "complicated doesn't begin to describe-"
Both Mosby and Connor stiffened, Mosby as he looked past Connor at the wagon pulling into town and Connor as he felt the distinctive buzz indicating the presence of another immortal.
Connor, Fitz, and Cory looked in all directions and saw a well-dressed and well groomed man emerging from a second story door at the top of an outdoor stairway, looking as wary as the three of them. He smiled when he spotted the other Immortals, relaxed the arm that was reaching inside his duster, and started down the stairs. Connor could hear Mosby calling out to the occupants of the wagon, but his attention was focused on the tall Immortal coming down the stairs and approaching them.
"I'm going by Adams, Dr. Benjamin Adams, Connor," Methos said, quietly, with a welcoming smile. "You?"
Connor shook hands with the doctor. "Connor MacLeod, this week, Dr. Adams. Do you know-"
"Hello, Fitzcairn," Methos said easily, then turned and regarded Cory with a slight lift of an eyebrow. "And the two of you brought him to help enforce law and order? I am utterly fascinated. His usual line of work is producing chaos."
Cory grinned. "And good at it, I am."
"Indeed," Methos said drily.
The four men, as well as the rest of the citizens standing outside were distracted by the raised voices in the background.
"You disappear for an entire bloody month, Call, and then come back into my town, asking for your old job back?" Mosby was saying clearly and acidly.
"Asking for my old job and the opportunity to do it as my conscience sees fit," Call answered him firmly.
"Your conscience?" Mosby echoed him. "I gather you've seen fit to grow one suddenly? Where the hell have you been, anyway? Did you get tired of dragging dead bodies to justice?"
"I've been courting Mattie is where I've been, Mosby," Call answered evenly.
Mattie stepped up beside Call and smiled at Mosby. "And growing a conscience was one of my requirements, Clay. Now will you boys stop playing at your who's going to be the boss rooster games and make nice?"
"Mattie. . . " Mosby looked at her, his expression softening into the genuine affection he felt for the woman. "Am I to understand that you're back in town to stay?"
"Is my gun shop still available?" Mattie asked smiling.
"For you, certainly and always," Mosby said returning the smile and then frowning as he looked over at Call. "Courting Mattie?" He looked back at Mattie. "And you've accepted this man's suit?"
"As long as he gives up the bounty hunting and gets a respectable job," Mattie linked her arm through Call's and smiled at him fondly. "And shaves."
Call's eyes widened. "Wait a minute. You never said anything about-"
Mosby rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for this," he said. "Fine, Call. You have your job back. Some men you can use for deputies just arrived in town. We have a situation."
"And what if I don't want to use your hired help as deputies?" Call asked.
"Then you're a damn fool." Mosby turned and started walking back toward Connor. Call looked at Mattie, shrugged, and followed with Mattie trailing after him.
"A situation?" Connor asked as Mosby approached.
"A situation," Mosby echoed. "I see you've met Dr. Adams."
"I've actually known Dr. Adams for some time. I'm not at all sure what brought him here."
"Cholera," Methos answered calmly. "The town doctor, Cleese, sent me an urgent telegram to come and help. I've had some success in treating it in the past. We've at least got the epidemic under control. The survivors who are still infected are in quarantine. And there've been no further victims in a week."
"Cholera!" Mattie gasped. "UnBob?"
"UnBob is fine, Mattie," Mosby said. "Sick and tired of burying folks, but healthy as a horse."
"Josiah?" Cole asked. "Austin?"
"Amanda?" Mattie continued to call the role of the people who mattered to them.
"Not that Amanda," Methos said quietly to Connor as he noted Connor's widened eyes. "Though this one makes our Amanda look like a docile lamb."
"Then she must be a flaming wildcat," Fitz murmured.
"She is," Mosby said flatly. "Josiah is fine, Call. Austin is still seemingly auditioning for the position of town drunk. And Amanda has gone stark, raving mad."
"Was she sane to begin with?" Cole asked quietly.
"The situation?" Connor urged. "I assume more is involved than the cholera?"
"Quite a bit more." Mosby sighed. He looked over at the town's men who were still standing by. "You'll have our orders in a moment, gentlemen." He looked back at Connor. "Armed robbers took out the stage coach, rolled into town, and held up the bank. They're holed up in the schoolhouse and have taken the children hostage. The school is surrounded by our remaining standing townsfolk. The robbers are claiming they will kill one child if we don't give them safe passage out of town by sundown, and another every hour after that."
Call's eyes widened as did the eyes of every one of the Immortals.
"I hadn't heard their demands," Methos said.
"Well, now you have," Mosby responded.
"So give them safe passage out of town," Call said flatly.
"It's not that easy," Mosby said wearily. "They want to take the children with them, and for all we know, they'll simply kill them anyway. Gentlemen, let us go into the bar and discuss our options. We have hours left before sunset."
Mosby quickly ordered the townsmen to relieve their counterparts surrounding the school and led the Immortals, Cole, and Mattie into the bar.
*********************************************
"All right," Cory said blithely. "I go in as a negotiator. I pretend to be enchanted by the gold and money. I pretend to take sides with them, and tell them we offer safe passage. How many of them are there?"
"Five," Mosby said shortly.
"Meanwhile, outside, we have sharpshooters hiding undercover around the school house," Connor said. "And when they come out, Cory covers the children with himself, and we take them all out with head shots. Do we have the shooters?"
"How many children?" Methos asked.
"Seven," Mosby said.
"Cory can't cover seven children," Fitz objected. "I go in after Cory with more negotiations and ride out with them. Between the two of us, we might could cover seven kids."
Connor shook his head. "It's going to take all three of us."
Call objected. "I can go in." All four Immortals looked at him and shook their heads, but were stymied by the inability to explain how difficult it was to kill Immortals.
"No," Methos said firmly. "We need to convince the robbers that cholera might be present among them, and I can come in as a doctor. I can cover the other children as we leave. Besides, Connor, you're the best shot among us." He continued drily, "when you're sober, anyway."
Connor snorted as he recalled the idiotic duel in Boston that Methos obviously remembered as well as he did. "Shooters?" he repeated.
Mattie paled and raised her hand. "I can shoot," she whispered faintly. Mosby and Call both looked at her with concern.
"You hate killing," Call said seriously, caressing her arm.
"I don't care," Mattie said firmly. "I'll kill to protect our children."
Call nodded and acquiesced. "I can shoot."
"As can I," Mosby said shortly. With Connor shooting also, that took care of four of the robbers. They all looked at each other with worry, and Austin lumbered up to the table where they all sat.
"I can shoot," he said briefly. "And I'm sober. Let me at 'em."
Mosby nodded. "Austin, if you can bring these bastards down, I swear I'll give you any job in this town that you want." Call smiled at his brother-in-law who nodded at him in return.
The group rose. The sound of hoofs striking the road came to their ears, and they all headed for the door of the saloon to see the new arrival. The four Immortals tensed as they felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal.
**************************************
Mosby stared incredulously at a man on a horse who resembled him as closely as a brother. "I am Colonel Mosby, sir, and you are?"
The other man sighed tiredly and said, "The name is Matthew McCormick. I'm a federal marshal, and I'm here to arrest Hugh Fitzcairn and Cory Raines, and return them to England as a courtesy of our government to their's."
Cory blinked. Fitz rolled his eyes and muttered, "We need this like a hole in the head."
"No," Cory said briefly. "We soon need holes in heads, the robbers' heads. Dammit, Matthew, we don't have time for this."
Connor stared at Matthew. "You want to take your student and our friends back to Europe to be hanged most likely?"
Matt looked at him unhappily. "I'll dig them up," he said haplessly. The mortals looked at him as if he were out of his mind.
"And can you give me three good reasons for all of us to go through this ridiculous waste of time?" Connor asked acidly. "No one was hurt, and the bloody idiots didn't even manage to take the money."
Call shook his head. "What on earth are they accused of doing?"
"Attempting to rob a private coach-" Matthew began at the same time that Fitz was declaiming,
"It was all a mistake-"
"Mistaken identity," Cory added helpfully.
Matthew continued over the voices of Cory and Fitz, "A private coach, containing a diplomat from Rome, a marquis from France, an English duke, and an envoy from Austria."
"None of whom, we had any idea were on board," Fitz said earnestly.
"Not that we ever there in the first place," Cory glared at Fitz and looked appealingly at the audience.
Matthew went on inexorably. "Thereby creating an international incident."
"Which had nothing to do with us," Cory said innocently. "Really."
Methos sat down on the steps to the bar and started laughing.
Mosby looked at Connor. "Do you vouch for these men?"
Connor nodded. "I do."
Mosby looked at Call and pointed at McCormick. "Arrest this man and put him in jail."
Call stared at him. "For what?"
Mosby rolled his eyes. "For-" he hesitated for a second and then concluded firmly, "for impersonating a federal marshal. For God's sake, Call, we have children to rescue."
Call nodded, pulled his gun, disarmed McCormick and dragged him off to the jail as the man stared him with blank incomprehension and protested vehemently, "I am not impersonating a federal marshal-I have my credentials right here-" The door to the jail shut and cut off his protests.
Cory sat down on the steps next to Methos and sighed. "Jesus, but he is going to be pissed."
"You think?" Methos chortled.
Fitz swung his hat at Methos's head and with his other hand, scruffed his knuckles over the side of Cory's head. "He'll get over it, Cory."
Methos dodged away, still laughing. "I'm sure he will, Cory. God only knows he's had untold numbers of years to practice getting over the chaos you leave in your wake."
"I am not at all sure I completely understand the source of all of this merriment," Mosby began.
"You have to have known these boys for a few years. All of them," Connor murmured.
"Nevertheless," Mosby continued as if Connor hadn't even spoken, "don't we have some children to rescue?"
********************************************
Cory held a white flag as he approached the schoolhouse, unarmed. He called out as he drew close. "Hey! Hello in there. I'm here to negotiate your terms."
"What's to negotiate?" A voice growled from within.
Cory paused outside the door. "Do you want us to provide you with transportation? What kinds? Food? Drinks? Supplies for the children? Supplies for yourself? When and how will the children be released? You know. Little details. Of some vague importance."
Mosby glanced over at Connor from where they stood behind a barricade near the schoolhouse. "Does that young man have any clue about when it might be expedient to suppress his sense of humor?" he asked flatly.
"Cory?" Connor shook his head.
The door to the schoolhouse opened slightly and Cory went in. It shut firmly behind him.
"You think you're funny, cowboy?" One of the robbers smashed Cory in the face. Cory fell and curled around himself. He glanced up and noted that the room was fairly crowded with all five of the robbers' horses tied up inside barely leaving room for the humans. Desks and chairs had been shoved against walls and windows.
"Um, guess not very," he mumbled. "Could we maybe start over?" He managed to sit up and look at the loot. "Mm," he murmured. "How much money is that?"
The man who was acting as the spokesman of the outlaws and who was likely their leader grinned. "About $100,000. Not something to give up easily."
"I see," Cory said lightly, looking at the gold and money again, looking away, looking again, looking greedy. He hesitated and gulped. "Um, how about I pretend to negotiate, and then you cut me in on the profits when we escape. I can help you."
There was a boot to his head and Cory fell, dropping partially on a older child. He whispered in her ear, very quietly. "After they get their supplies, pretend to have symptoms of cholera. Say your guts are hurting." Cory rolled, stared at the leader of the robbers, and said, "They think I"m their side. I can mislead them. I just want a share of the loot."
"Yeah," the leader said cynically. "Prove you're on our side. Shoot one of these kids."
Cory blinked. "Shoot one of the kids?" he repeated blankly. "Um, I don't think that would be such a good idea. Folks outside might get a bit riled."
The leader nodded. "They might. You got a better idea?"
Cory thought for a moment. "I might. What do you say I call in one of the others out there and shoot him instead? If I manage to just give him a flesh wound, he could call out and tell the others it was just an accident."
The leader considered and looked at his men. "Be one of less of them to worry about when we take off out of here," the other man stated.
The leader nodded at Cory, who stepped to the door, saying over his shoulder, "You know I'll have to borrow a gun from one of you?"
The leader nodded. "And you know that there'll be three of us holding a gun on you, right?" He handed a gun to Cory.
Cory shrugged, opened the door a crack, and yelled out, "Fitzcairn! Need you in here."
Fitz looked over at Connor who shrugged. "Not in the plan for me to go in there yet," he objected quietly, taking off his gun.
"Plans change," Connor answered just as quietly.
Fitz shrugged and approached the partially open door, squeezing inside, and looking around. "What?" he asked. Cory took careful aim and shot Fitz in the arm. The leader grabbed the gun back immediately as Fitz emitted a roar of outraged pain. There were startled shouts from outside.
"Cory! What in bloody hell?" Fitz stared at the other Immortal incredulously, clutching his wound.
Cory shrugged. "The scent of money sometimes seems to have a bit of an intoxicating affect on me," he said lightly. "Makes me act crazy." Fitz's eyes followed Cory's gaze over to pile of gold and money. Comprehension dawned.
The leader laughed. "Guess you are with us, now, hmm, boy?"
Cory gave the leader a winsome smile. "Let's just get out of here with the loot," he suggested.
"What in the hell is going on in there?" Mosby shouted from outside.
The leader looked at Fitz, still holding a gun on him, "Now you just go to the door, and tell them there was an accident with a gun in here. No one got hurt."
Fitz did as he was told.
Mosby shouted again, "I want to see every single one of those children-and both of the men we sent in--at the window, alive and unharmed. NOW. Or we will try to see how many of you bastards we can kill before you harm any more of our children." The leader nodded to his men who started taking the children one by one to the window.
Cory helped Fitz bind his wound as the other man just stared at him. "You really couldn't manage to think of a way to achieve this treachery without causing me a painful, bloody injury?" Fitz asked caustically.
"Well," Cory said blithely as he led Fitz to the window, keeping the wounded arm hidden from view. "I could have shot Connor."
*******************************************
The leader of the robbers finished dictating the list of supplies for Cory to take back out to the town leaders. "Tell them to back the wagon up to the front of the schoolhouse," he ordered. "You bring the food, feed for the horses, guns, and ammo inside with you. You write all that down. I don't want to see you talking to nobody."
Fitz rolled his eyes, praying that Cory wouldn't deliver the obvious retort of inquiring if the leader did, then, indeed, want to see him talking to somebody. He really didn't think the twitchy robbers needed a grammar lesson.
Cory nodded, wrote what he was told to write, and took the list out the door, handing it to Connor who took it, read it, and nodded to Cory to step back and wait while the supplies were gathered.
************************************************
Cory returned to the school, laden down with supplies, as the wagon was backed up to the door. The leader ordered the other men to take turns, feeding themselves and the horses while the others continued to hold guns on the children, Fitz, and Cory.
"Are you going to feed the children?" Fitz asked clutching his no longer wounded arm as if still in great pain.
"Why should we feed the brats?" One of the other men asked.
Fitz sighed and shook his head, "Because they might be hungry," he suggested mildly, "and perhaps easier to manage if not hungry and cranky." As well as terrified and exhausted, he thought to himself. The leader considered Fitz and then nodded toward his men. "He has a point. Feed 'em."
As the robbers did as they were told, the leader continued to issue orders, finishing with, "So we load the children into the back of wagon along with the loot. I want you three men with guns on them at all times, climbing in with them and holding the guns at heads. I don't want any screw ups. You," he glared at Cory, "you tie our horses to back of the wagon. And then drive." He looked at the one remaining robber. "You ride shotgun and keep a gun held to this man's head."
"Hey," Cory protested. "Don't I get a gun?"
"No," the leader said shortly. "I ain't got no real reason to trust you yet."
The older child to whom Cory had whispered instructions sank to the ground and started to groan and writhe, clutching her stomach. "I need the outhouse," she gasped out.
Cory's eyes widened. "Omigod, the cholera," he said shortly.
"Get the doctor," the leader demanded firmly. "We're not dying from cholera. Get us the doctor now."
Cory went to the door and yelled for Dr. Adams.
***************************************
Methos entered the school house, carrying his doctor's bag, and laid his hand on the groaning schoolchild, talking with her quietly. He looked up after a few moments. "Yes, she has the symptoms of cholera. Have any of you men eaten after her or drunk the water she's drinking?"
The robbers looked at one another and shook their heads.
"Then none of you will likely be infected if you leave now," Methos said quietly. "If you don't want to be infected, you should go. You have been promised safe passage."
The leader looked over at Fitz. "Any reason to leave this one alive?" he asked roughly.
"I'll go with you," Fitz offered hastily. "As another hostage. No reason to kill me, is there?"
"Any reason to keep you alive or take another hostage?" the leader responded, drawing a knife.
"Might alarm the town folk," Cory said laconically. "If everyone who came in here doesn't leave alive."
The leader grunted, considered, and put the knife away. "Good point. Easy enough to kill him later." He looked around at his men. "Load up the children, guns on them at all times. Let's get the hell out of here. Doc, you can leave that girl on the floor. You're coming with us in case we need you."
"Am I indeed?" Methos said, pleasantly, standing to cooperate and grabbing his bag.
The robbers gathered up the children, as they had planned, loading them on the wagon with three men holding guns on the heads of several of them. Fitz and Methos loaded themselves on the wagon with the children.
As Cory tied up the horse to the back of the wagon, he caught the eyes of Fitz and Methos. "When I-" he mouthed quietly and made a motion with his hands that mimicked the motion used in snapping the reins to start the horses pulling the wagon. The other two men nodded as the leader and several of the robbers looked over suspiciously, yet didn't really catch the communication. Cory went to the front of the wagon, clambered on, and flicked the reins.
Fitz threw himself between the gun of one the robbers and the children. He gathered a shot to his torso. Cory abruptly somersaulted backwards and threw himself between the children and another of the robbers. He took a shot in his shoulder. Methos simply threw the third gunman out the wagon, his gun shooting harmlessly into the air.
Mattie nailed the leader of the robbers with a head shot and then shot another of the robbers in the leg. He fell, cursing and firing his gun, but the shots went wild and hit no one.
Mosby shot the robber who had shot Fitz in another fine head shot. Call shot the one who shot Cory. Austin blasted the shotgun rider through the heart, and Connor finished off the one whom Mattie had put on the ground.
None of the children had been hurt, though several were sobbing in fear. Fitz was dead. Methos sprang over to him, blocked his lifeless body from view, and started pushing on his chest and then breathing into his mouth.
"Come on, Fitz," he said quietly, pushing hard. "Come on. Breathe for me, will you?" Fitz gasped back to life. Methos nodded and then pulled scissors and bandages out of his bag, cutting off Fitz's shirt and wrapping his torso thoroughly.
Methos then went to Cory who was holding the wound in his shoulder. Methos bandaged the wound efficiently. "You realize you're going to have to wearing a sling for weeks and favor this arms for weeks, yes?" he said.
Cory grinned. "Might get me a lot of attention from the women around here. After all, we're going to be heroes now."
Call strode up checking each of the bodies for signs of life. Mosby and Connor joined him. Call looked over at Fitz who was about half covered in blood which was soaking through the bandages around him.
"Thought that one was dead for sure," Call said, sounding more than a bit puzzled.
"I think his ribs deflected the bullet," Methos explained. "It tore across his chest and broke a couple of ribs, but, as you can see, it didn't seem to hit anything vital."
"What was that . . ." Call made a pushing movement with his hands and went on, "thing you were doing with his chest?"
"Sometimes, if the heart has stopped from shock or such, we've discovered we can start it again by stimulating it manually," Methos explained. "It can also help to do some breathing for them."
Call nodded thoughtfully. "UnBob came back from the dead one time after I pounded on his chest. None of us were sure why that happened."
Parents started converging on the wagon to retrieve their frightened children, comforting, holding, and leading them away.
Connor leaped into the wagon. "I think we need to get these men to beds. Do we have a place to stay?"
Mosby nodded, ordering Austin to take the gold and money back to bank and a couple of trusted townsmen to guard. "We'll put you up in the hotel," he said. "You can meet our wildcat, Amanda. Austin drop these men off at the hotel on the way to the bank. You other men help Dr. Adams and MacLeod to get these men settled."
Mosby looked over at Connor. "And once you get your men settled, I think it might be wise for you and I to have a talk with Mr. McCormick, hmm?"
Call turned to help a pale and shaken Mattie make it back to her gun shop and to find out if her previous residence was still available. "I guess I can trust you to handle the marshal, Mosby. I don't think there's much of a chance our town folk are going to want to give these men up after what they've done today."
************************************************
Matthew was pacing in his cell when Mosby and Connor entered. "What in the name of God has been going on in this town?" he demanded. "It sounded as if you were doing some kind of re-enactment of the gun fight at the O.K. corral."
"The circumstances were somewhat similar in nature," Mosby concurred. "Those two men whom you claim to be fugitives from justice were both just shot saving the lives of innocent children who were being held hostage by armed robbers."
Matthew stared for a moment and then grinned slightly, almost as if he couldn't help himself from doing so. He sat down on the bunk in his cell.
"Sounds just like the two of them," he murmured. He looked up at Connor. "I assume neither of the two were actually killed?"
Connor shook his head, also grinning slightly. He moved closer to the cell and said very quietly. "Not permanently, anyway."
Matthew rolled his eyes and then looked at the other two men. "And I suppose you expect me to just forget I located these local heroes and ignore the attempted robbery in England?"
Mosby shrugged, sat down in the sheriff's chair, took several expensive cigars out of his pocket and offered two of them to Connor who in turn offered one to Matthew. Mosby lit his very carefully and studied the process as he did so.
"I'm really not very interested in what might have been done or not done in Europe," Mosby said quietly. "There are many men over here in the States who have come to make new lives away from the old country. Just as there are many men out here in the West who have come to make new lives after the War."
Mosby finished lighting his cigar and looked up at Matthew. "May I offer you a light, sir?" Matthew nodded warily, and Mosby stood and brought him a match.
"You seem to be a man of good sense, McCormick," Mosby continued. "Surely we can reach a reasonable compromise."
Matthew sat down again on the bunk and made his own little production out of lighting the cigar, also speaking thoughtfully as he did. "I have a badge to honor, a duty to uphold, and a job I am sworn to do faithfully. I'm not at all sure how we could achieve a compromise."
Mosby sighed and sat down again. "Sir, did you not say that the apprehension of these desperadoes was being performed as a courtesy? Has there been any formal extradition process?"
"That's not really the point, now is it?" Matthew said quietly.
"Oh, for God's sake," Connor said suddenly, getting thoroughly tired of the elaborate Southern courtesy saturating the room. "Mosby, can I speak with Matthew alone?"
Mosby rose and made a slight bow to both men. "Certainly, sir, and I do hope you have better luck than I in reaching a compromise with this absurdly stubborn, but obviously honorable gentleman." He shut the door behind him as he left.
Connor glared at Matthew. "Has it ever even remotely occurred to you, Matthew, that your rigid, uncompromising insistence on following the exact letter of the law is the source of Cory's persistent, flamboyant, and ridiculously prolonged juvenile rebellion?"
Matthew blinked. "Good heavens, Connor. Have you been absorbing dictionaries? Studying philosophy?" He stood up and approached the bars. "Of course, it has occurred to me. I'm not an idiot."
Connor sighed and sat down. "You practically raised the boy. You were his first teacher after he became Immortal."
Matthew nodded. "Yes. After I hung him for poaching and dug him up," he said grimly.
"Just how long do you plan on continuing to hang the idiot boy and dig him up again afterwards? Until he stops pretending to be Robin Hood? Which in his own weird way is Cory's code of ethical behavior. Why keep doing the same thing over and over when it never works?"
Matthew sighed. "Do you have a better idea?"
Connor grinned evilly and nodded.
************************************
Fitz, Cory, and Methos had pulled a table up to the ends of the two single beds in the room in which the wounded had been placed. Methos had grabbed a chair, and Cory and Fitz were sitting on the ends of their respective beds. Cory was dealing cards to the three of them and grumbling. "Poker works a lot better with more players."
"Right now we only have three-" Fitz was beginning patiently when the door to their hotel room opened. Matthew entered with his gun drawn and aimed at Cory.
"Reach for your gun, Cory," Matthew ordered. "Not you, Fitz. Cory, do it."
Fitz's mouth fell open and his eyes went wide. Methos simply stood and carefully moved out of the line of fire, looking curious and somewhat amused. Cory stared at Matthew in amazement and started to do as he was told. "I don't want to shoot you, Matthew." he said unhappily as he grabbed the weapon.
"What on earth makes you think I'd let you?" Matthew asked as he shot Cory point-blank in the heart. Cory gasped, looked down at the blood pouring out of his chest, stared incredulously at Matthew, and died.
Matthew smiled grimly. "So. All is taken care of. Fitz, you were shot and killed rescuing the children. Cory has just been killed resisting arrest. I report both of you found and dead, and my job is done. Right?" Connor entered behind Matthew and nodded.
"Good work," he said.
Fitz nodded, looking somewhat dumbfounded. Methos slid down the wall against which he was standing and sank down to the floor, laughing. He looked up at Connor. "Your solution?" Connor nodded.
"Do you think perhaps the two of them could change their names for a while?" Matthew asked somewhat plaintively of Connor.
"I doubt that will be a problem," Connor agreed.
Cory suddenly gasped back to life and stared at Matthew. "You shot me," he choked out.
Matthew nodded. "Apprehended and killed while resisting arrest," he explained again. "My task completed."
"You didn't take me in, have me hanged, and dig me up," Cory said with astonishment.
"Change of pace," Matthew said dryly.
Cory stared at him in utter amazement and then blurted out. "My God, Matthew, I think that's the most utterly bang-up thing you've ever done."
Methos started laughing even harder. "Was the pun intended?"
The entire room echoed with laughter. Connor pulled up another chair, sat down, and started shuffling cards, chuckling. "I think five would be just about the perfect number for an interesting game. Care to join us, Matthew?"
"I'd be honored, sir." Matthew took the chair Methos had vacated as Methos stood and shoved Fitz over at the end of the bed, to sit down himself.
There was a knock on the door. Eyes widened as Fitz and Cory hastily flopped back down on the beds. Cory hurried to cover his bloodied chest with the blankets. Methos stood and busied himself with his bag on a bedside table, arranging the contents and frowning with concentration.
Connor went to the door and opened it. Mosby looked into the room and smiled sardonically. "Ah," he said, "would you gentlemen be kind enough to deal me into what appears to be a friendly game?" He looked over at Matthew, raised an eyebrow, and continued, "I assume a compromise of some kind has been achieved?"
Matthew nodded warily. Mosby gave him a satisfied look and gazed at the table and chairs. "It appears we need more seating. I'll have some chairs sent up." He crossed back to the door, went out, and called out orders. Chairs were delivered. Six of them, along with six glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Mosby leaned against a wall, lighting another cigar as the deliveries were carried out.
Connor continued shuffling, keeping an eye on Mosby with bemusement. As soon as the chairs were arranged around the table and the delivery men had departed, closing the door, Mosby sat down, looked around, and said mildly, "There's really no reason for you two men to stay in bed if you're capable of sitting up and playing."
Methos choked and sat down at the table. Connor kept a completely blank face as did Matthew. Fitz and Cory both looked at Connor for some indication of what he expected them to do.
Mosby looked over at Connor. "And, there's really no reason to keep shuffling those cards until you wear them out," he said, putting a pile of cigars on the table and pouring himself a shot of fine Kentucky bourbon. "Perhaps, while they're cut and dealt, one of you gentlemen might be kind enough to explain to me exactly how it that you seem to recover so quickly and completely from holes being shot right into your bodies."
Connor rolled his eyes and motioned for Cory and Fitz to get up and join them. "Well," Connor began, "um . . . it's like this-"
end
Author: Diane/dswdiane aka Not Kilt Boy
Written for: The community! Enjoy the hijinks!
Characters: Fitz, Connor, Cory Raines, Matthew McCormick, Methos from HL, Newt Call, Mattie Shaw, Clay Mosby, Austin from Lonesome Dove, the Outlaw Years
Crossover: Highlander and Lonesome Dove, the Outlaw Years
Rating: Gen
Warnings: Bad guys get killed.
Author's Notes: It is important to this story to know that Matthew McCormick was Cory Raines' first teacher after Cory became an Immortal. It might also help to know that Matthew and Clay Mosby were played by the same actor, Eric McCormack. It also helps in reading this to imagine that both Mosby and McCormick speak with a cultured, educated, but carefully drawled, Southern accent.
Summary: Cory and Fitz are on the lam from a botched robbery in Europe. Connor is taking them to Carson Wells at the request of Colonel Clay Mosby who has asked for assistance. Adventures occur.
A Bang-up Job in Carson Wells
"These people are all barbarians," Fitz complained irately, "and I'm not speaking about the natives." He led his horse over a small hill and went on complaining. "I'm talking about these so-called former citizens of European countries who have settled in this God-forsaken endless blight of prairies and hills." He halted his horse and sneezed. "Nod do mention the Gog-forsaken endless vegetation dat makes my nose run all de time." He sneezed again, explosively.
Connor halted his own horse and looked at Fitz with little sympathy. "Did I ask you to involve yourself with Cory Raines in a robbery in which both of you idiots were seen by so many people that you had to leave Europe? Probably until you manage to outlive all of them?" He wheeled his horse and looked at Cory who was starting humming aimlessly while lifting his hands in the air in surrender.
"Did I ask you to rob a couch carrying with a diplomat from Rome, a French marquis , an English duke, and an envoy from Austria? What the hell were you thinking?" Connor demanded.
Fitz shrugged. "Um, didn't know who was in the damn coach. Just knew there was a lot of gold on board." He looked over at Cory who also shrugged but said nothing.
Cory's horse seemed to decide that his idiot rider who was holding the reins loosely aloft in the air probably had no idea what he was doing and immediately dashed off for the closest patch of tasty green items. Cory grinned, lowered his arms, tightened the reins, and stayed seated on the animal who was most disappointed. He smiled sunnily at Connor.
"I don't mind this new world, Connor," he said happily. "More sheep to fleece. More money to rob from the rich and give to the poor."
Connor groaned. Fitz sighed.
"Cory," Fitz began patiently, "The point is really not to rob the rich and give to the poor. We are the poor."
Connor sighed. "We are in the process of traveling to what will be well-paying, honest, legitimate work," he said with exaggerated patience. He looked hard at Cory and continued pointedly. "There will be no need to rob anyone, and I, for one, would be perfectly happy if you want to turn over every penny of your well-earned pay to as many of the poor as you can locate."
Cory shrugged again and pointed to grassy area almost surrounded by large stones. A stream babbled nearby. "Looks like a good place to camp," he commented. Connor nodded, halted his horse, and dismounted.
**********************************
Fitz settled in beside the campfire, happily full with the food that Connor had provided from his saddlebags along with a stewed wild hare that Cory had shot and skinned. "So, what's the name of this town again?"
Connor leaned back, his head against the saddle he planned to use as a pillow. "Carson Wells," he said. "We should be there by mid-day tomorrow."
Cory stared at Connor over the fire. "And we're going to help maintain law and order?" he said skeptically.
Connor grinned lazily. "Imagine that would be a treat for you, Cory."
Fitz chuckled and Cory shook his head. Connor looked around. "Want to draw straws for first watch? I'm ready to turn in."
Fitz pulled out his pipe and started to fill it. "I'll take it. I'll wake you in a few hours, Connor."
The other two settled into their bedrolls and started to drowse. Fitz leaned back against a rock and experimented with blowing smoke rings.
****************************************
Fitz barely heard the slight crack of a twig and rose suddenly to his feet, drawing his gun. He ducked behind the rock and stared intently in the direction of the sound he'd heard.
"Drop it," a voice commanded from nearby.
Fitz steadied his gun on the top of the rock. "I don't think so," he sang out.
Connor rolled out of his bedding and dodged behind another rock as did Cory. All three men aimed their weapons at a fourth man holding a gun on them from behind his own rock.
"You can all just stand down," a female voice ordered. "There ain't no point in this kinda stand-off unless we all find out we're really enemies of some kind."
Connor looked over his rock and saw a blonde woman standing behind Cory and holding a rifle aimed directly at Cory's head and vulnerable neck. "Well, ma'am," he said gallantly. "To what circumstance do we owe this unprovoked attack on peacefully sleeping travelers? I'm Connor MacLeod. May I ask who you are?"
"I'm Mattie Shaw," the woman said quietly. "And that's my fiancé, Newt Call, that all three of you fellas are aiming your pistols at. We're on our way to Carson Wells so I can re-open my gun shop, and Call can ask for his job back as sheriff." The blond, scruffy looking man slightly rolled his eyes at the woman and immediately refocused his gaze back on the other three men.
Connor holstered his gun, came out from behind the rock, and swept himself into a gracious bow. "Then we have no reason to think of ourselves of enemies, ma'am. We're on our way to Carson Wells ourselves, at the request of Colonel Mosby."
Call's eyes narrowed and he glared. "And just what did Mosby request of you?"
"He seemed to think that the law enforcement in Carson Wells was in need of assistance and that I and my friends could help." Connor said mildly.
Call continued to glare. "Meaning that he wanted more of his bully boys to help him stay in control-"
"Shut up, Newt," Mattie said quietly. "Mosby's not a bad man, and we don't know these fellas. There's time enough to judge."
Call lowered his gun. "How do you know Mosby?" he demanded of Connor.
Connor contemplated Call and said calmly and evenly, "At the end of the War Between the States, I was Union officer. I met up with Mosby who was a Colonel of the Confederate forces. There were Union troops who were ignoring the peace accords and still pillaging Confederate homes and plantations. I joined forces with him to subdue the insurgent forces."
Call blinked.
Connor nodded. "I helped him disarm, imprison, and if necessary, even, kill Union forces who were still pillaging Southern homes. You have a problem with that?"
Newt shook his head and asked acidly, "And if Mosby is known to be taking advantage of innocent folks in his way, whose side will you be on?"
Connor blinked and looked seriously at Call. "I know Mosby," he said. "He is an honorable man. And I am an honorable man. I'll take the side of whomever is in the right. And I pledge my companions to follow me on the side of what is right." He looked at Fitz and Cory and made it clear that he expected him to follow his lead.
Fitz and Cory both holstered their weapons and came out to the fire. Cory pulled a flask from his saddle bag and held it out to the two strangers. "Would either of you care for some whiskey?"
Mattie smiled and sat down cross-legged at the low burning camp fire. "Don't mind if I do," she said taking the flask from Cory and taking a swallow. She passed it on to Call who was still looking wary. He took it and sat down himself.
Fitz gave an admiring look to Mattie, appreciating the way her trousers and fitted shirt displayed her graceful and lithe young body. "Um, gun shop?" he said curiously.
Call moved to sit a little more closely to Mattie and took a swig from the flask, passing it on to Connor. Mattie nodded, "I'm a gun smith."
***********************************
Connor took the next watch as Fitz and Cory settled back down to sleep. Call and Mattie had moved their wagon closer and bedded down nearby.
Connor leaned back against a rock and thought about what he had learned as the others had chatted. He didn't think that Call and Mattie had been engaged for long and it certainly seemed to him that Mattie's commitment to Call was conditional upon Call following through on some changes in his way of life. Connor wasn't really very clear what Call's way of life had been before, but he was fairly certain it hadn't been peaceful. On the other hand, asking to "get back" his job as the sheriff of Carson Wells didn't sound like a life of non-violence, but it seemed to be what Mattie expected.
It also seemed clear and obvious that Call didn't care for Mosby. Connor wondered if the feeling was mutual. He also wondered why Call thought Mosby might have been hiring "bully boys." That didn't sound like the Mosby that Connor had known, but years of life had a way of changing people. The sky seemed to be lightening in the east, and Connor sighed. They'd soon be up and on the trail again with none of them having had much sleep.
*****************************************
Mosby was easily spotted when Connor and his companions reached town slightly ahead of Call and Mattie. Mosby was pacing up and down outside the sheriff's office, calling out orders to a group of men standing in front. He glanced up at the sound of hoofs, and called out a glad greeting, jumping down from the walkway, and coming to meet the men.
"Thank God, you're here, Major." He reached out a hand to Connor as he swung down off his horse and clasped the hand with a smile.
"I go by Connor MacLeod, now, Colonel," Connor said easily. "These men with me are Hugh Fitzcairn and Cory Raines. We've come to accept the work you offered."
"Greetings and welcome to Carson Wells, gentlemen. Your help is sorely needed," Mosby said.
"I usually answer to Fitz," Fitz said as he shook hands with Mosby. Cory was staring in amazement at the Colonel, shook hands a slight tentatively, and visibly sighed with relief. Connor chuckled.
"I should have warned you," Connor said quietly. He glanced at Mosby and explained, "You look remarkably like a gentleman with whom Cory has had a long and complicated relationship." Mosby nodded as Cory muttered something that sounded like, "complicated doesn't begin to describe-"
Both Mosby and Connor stiffened, Mosby as he looked past Connor at the wagon pulling into town and Connor as he felt the distinctive buzz indicating the presence of another immortal.
Connor, Fitz, and Cory looked in all directions and saw a well-dressed and well groomed man emerging from a second story door at the top of an outdoor stairway, looking as wary as the three of them. He smiled when he spotted the other Immortals, relaxed the arm that was reaching inside his duster, and started down the stairs. Connor could hear Mosby calling out to the occupants of the wagon, but his attention was focused on the tall Immortal coming down the stairs and approaching them.
"I'm going by Adams, Dr. Benjamin Adams, Connor," Methos said, quietly, with a welcoming smile. "You?"
Connor shook hands with the doctor. "Connor MacLeod, this week, Dr. Adams. Do you know-"
"Hello, Fitzcairn," Methos said easily, then turned and regarded Cory with a slight lift of an eyebrow. "And the two of you brought him to help enforce law and order? I am utterly fascinated. His usual line of work is producing chaos."
Cory grinned. "And good at it, I am."
"Indeed," Methos said drily.
The four men, as well as the rest of the citizens standing outside were distracted by the raised voices in the background.
"You disappear for an entire bloody month, Call, and then come back into my town, asking for your old job back?" Mosby was saying clearly and acidly.
"Asking for my old job and the opportunity to do it as my conscience sees fit," Call answered him firmly.
"Your conscience?" Mosby echoed him. "I gather you've seen fit to grow one suddenly? Where the hell have you been, anyway? Did you get tired of dragging dead bodies to justice?"
"I've been courting Mattie is where I've been, Mosby," Call answered evenly.
Mattie stepped up beside Call and smiled at Mosby. "And growing a conscience was one of my requirements, Clay. Now will you boys stop playing at your who's going to be the boss rooster games and make nice?"
"Mattie. . . " Mosby looked at her, his expression softening into the genuine affection he felt for the woman. "Am I to understand that you're back in town to stay?"
"Is my gun shop still available?" Mattie asked smiling.
"For you, certainly and always," Mosby said returning the smile and then frowning as he looked over at Call. "Courting Mattie?" He looked back at Mattie. "And you've accepted this man's suit?"
"As long as he gives up the bounty hunting and gets a respectable job," Mattie linked her arm through Call's and smiled at him fondly. "And shaves."
Call's eyes widened. "Wait a minute. You never said anything about-"
Mosby rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for this," he said. "Fine, Call. You have your job back. Some men you can use for deputies just arrived in town. We have a situation."
"And what if I don't want to use your hired help as deputies?" Call asked.
"Then you're a damn fool." Mosby turned and started walking back toward Connor. Call looked at Mattie, shrugged, and followed with Mattie trailing after him.
"A situation?" Connor asked as Mosby approached.
"A situation," Mosby echoed. "I see you've met Dr. Adams."
"I've actually known Dr. Adams for some time. I'm not at all sure what brought him here."
"Cholera," Methos answered calmly. "The town doctor, Cleese, sent me an urgent telegram to come and help. I've had some success in treating it in the past. We've at least got the epidemic under control. The survivors who are still infected are in quarantine. And there've been no further victims in a week."
"Cholera!" Mattie gasped. "UnBob?"
"UnBob is fine, Mattie," Mosby said. "Sick and tired of burying folks, but healthy as a horse."
"Josiah?" Cole asked. "Austin?"
"Amanda?" Mattie continued to call the role of the people who mattered to them.
"Not that Amanda," Methos said quietly to Connor as he noted Connor's widened eyes. "Though this one makes our Amanda look like a docile lamb."
"Then she must be a flaming wildcat," Fitz murmured.
"She is," Mosby said flatly. "Josiah is fine, Call. Austin is still seemingly auditioning for the position of town drunk. And Amanda has gone stark, raving mad."
"Was she sane to begin with?" Cole asked quietly.
"The situation?" Connor urged. "I assume more is involved than the cholera?"
"Quite a bit more." Mosby sighed. He looked over at the town's men who were still standing by. "You'll have our orders in a moment, gentlemen." He looked back at Connor. "Armed robbers took out the stage coach, rolled into town, and held up the bank. They're holed up in the schoolhouse and have taken the children hostage. The school is surrounded by our remaining standing townsfolk. The robbers are claiming they will kill one child if we don't give them safe passage out of town by sundown, and another every hour after that."
Call's eyes widened as did the eyes of every one of the Immortals.
"I hadn't heard their demands," Methos said.
"Well, now you have," Mosby responded.
"So give them safe passage out of town," Call said flatly.
"It's not that easy," Mosby said wearily. "They want to take the children with them, and for all we know, they'll simply kill them anyway. Gentlemen, let us go into the bar and discuss our options. We have hours left before sunset."
Mosby quickly ordered the townsmen to relieve their counterparts surrounding the school and led the Immortals, Cole, and Mattie into the bar.
*********************************************
"All right," Cory said blithely. "I go in as a negotiator. I pretend to be enchanted by the gold and money. I pretend to take sides with them, and tell them we offer safe passage. How many of them are there?"
"Five," Mosby said shortly.
"Meanwhile, outside, we have sharpshooters hiding undercover around the school house," Connor said. "And when they come out, Cory covers the children with himself, and we take them all out with head shots. Do we have the shooters?"
"How many children?" Methos asked.
"Seven," Mosby said.
"Cory can't cover seven children," Fitz objected. "I go in after Cory with more negotiations and ride out with them. Between the two of us, we might could cover seven kids."
Connor shook his head. "It's going to take all three of us."
Call objected. "I can go in." All four Immortals looked at him and shook their heads, but were stymied by the inability to explain how difficult it was to kill Immortals.
"No," Methos said firmly. "We need to convince the robbers that cholera might be present among them, and I can come in as a doctor. I can cover the other children as we leave. Besides, Connor, you're the best shot among us." He continued drily, "when you're sober, anyway."
Connor snorted as he recalled the idiotic duel in Boston that Methos obviously remembered as well as he did. "Shooters?" he repeated.
Mattie paled and raised her hand. "I can shoot," she whispered faintly. Mosby and Call both looked at her with concern.
"You hate killing," Call said seriously, caressing her arm.
"I don't care," Mattie said firmly. "I'll kill to protect our children."
Call nodded and acquiesced. "I can shoot."
"As can I," Mosby said shortly. With Connor shooting also, that took care of four of the robbers. They all looked at each other with worry, and Austin lumbered up to the table where they all sat.
"I can shoot," he said briefly. "And I'm sober. Let me at 'em."
Mosby nodded. "Austin, if you can bring these bastards down, I swear I'll give you any job in this town that you want." Call smiled at his brother-in-law who nodded at him in return.
The group rose. The sound of hoofs striking the road came to their ears, and they all headed for the door of the saloon to see the new arrival. The four Immortals tensed as they felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal.
**************************************
Mosby stared incredulously at a man on a horse who resembled him as closely as a brother. "I am Colonel Mosby, sir, and you are?"
The other man sighed tiredly and said, "The name is Matthew McCormick. I'm a federal marshal, and I'm here to arrest Hugh Fitzcairn and Cory Raines, and return them to England as a courtesy of our government to their's."
Cory blinked. Fitz rolled his eyes and muttered, "We need this like a hole in the head."
"No," Cory said briefly. "We soon need holes in heads, the robbers' heads. Dammit, Matthew, we don't have time for this."
Connor stared at Matthew. "You want to take your student and our friends back to Europe to be hanged most likely?"
Matt looked at him unhappily. "I'll dig them up," he said haplessly. The mortals looked at him as if he were out of his mind.
"And can you give me three good reasons for all of us to go through this ridiculous waste of time?" Connor asked acidly. "No one was hurt, and the bloody idiots didn't even manage to take the money."
Call shook his head. "What on earth are they accused of doing?"
"Attempting to rob a private coach-" Matthew began at the same time that Fitz was declaiming,
"It was all a mistake-"
"Mistaken identity," Cory added helpfully.
Matthew continued over the voices of Cory and Fitz, "A private coach, containing a diplomat from Rome, a marquis from France, an English duke, and an envoy from Austria."
"None of whom, we had any idea were on board," Fitz said earnestly.
"Not that we ever there in the first place," Cory glared at Fitz and looked appealingly at the audience.
Matthew went on inexorably. "Thereby creating an international incident."
"Which had nothing to do with us," Cory said innocently. "Really."
Methos sat down on the steps to the bar and started laughing.
Mosby looked at Connor. "Do you vouch for these men?"
Connor nodded. "I do."
Mosby looked at Call and pointed at McCormick. "Arrest this man and put him in jail."
Call stared at him. "For what?"
Mosby rolled his eyes. "For-" he hesitated for a second and then concluded firmly, "for impersonating a federal marshal. For God's sake, Call, we have children to rescue."
Call nodded, pulled his gun, disarmed McCormick and dragged him off to the jail as the man stared him with blank incomprehension and protested vehemently, "I am not impersonating a federal marshal-I have my credentials right here-" The door to the jail shut and cut off his protests.
Cory sat down on the steps next to Methos and sighed. "Jesus, but he is going to be pissed."
"You think?" Methos chortled.
Fitz swung his hat at Methos's head and with his other hand, scruffed his knuckles over the side of Cory's head. "He'll get over it, Cory."
Methos dodged away, still laughing. "I'm sure he will, Cory. God only knows he's had untold numbers of years to practice getting over the chaos you leave in your wake."
"I am not at all sure I completely understand the source of all of this merriment," Mosby began.
"You have to have known these boys for a few years. All of them," Connor murmured.
"Nevertheless," Mosby continued as if Connor hadn't even spoken, "don't we have some children to rescue?"
********************************************
Cory held a white flag as he approached the schoolhouse, unarmed. He called out as he drew close. "Hey! Hello in there. I'm here to negotiate your terms."
"What's to negotiate?" A voice growled from within.
Cory paused outside the door. "Do you want us to provide you with transportation? What kinds? Food? Drinks? Supplies for the children? Supplies for yourself? When and how will the children be released? You know. Little details. Of some vague importance."
Mosby glanced over at Connor from where they stood behind a barricade near the schoolhouse. "Does that young man have any clue about when it might be expedient to suppress his sense of humor?" he asked flatly.
"Cory?" Connor shook his head.
The door to the schoolhouse opened slightly and Cory went in. It shut firmly behind him.
"You think you're funny, cowboy?" One of the robbers smashed Cory in the face. Cory fell and curled around himself. He glanced up and noted that the room was fairly crowded with all five of the robbers' horses tied up inside barely leaving room for the humans. Desks and chairs had been shoved against walls and windows.
"Um, guess not very," he mumbled. "Could we maybe start over?" He managed to sit up and look at the loot. "Mm," he murmured. "How much money is that?"
The man who was acting as the spokesman of the outlaws and who was likely their leader grinned. "About $100,000. Not something to give up easily."
"I see," Cory said lightly, looking at the gold and money again, looking away, looking again, looking greedy. He hesitated and gulped. "Um, how about I pretend to negotiate, and then you cut me in on the profits when we escape. I can help you."
There was a boot to his head and Cory fell, dropping partially on a older child. He whispered in her ear, very quietly. "After they get their supplies, pretend to have symptoms of cholera. Say your guts are hurting." Cory rolled, stared at the leader of the robbers, and said, "They think I"m their side. I can mislead them. I just want a share of the loot."
"Yeah," the leader said cynically. "Prove you're on our side. Shoot one of these kids."
Cory blinked. "Shoot one of the kids?" he repeated blankly. "Um, I don't think that would be such a good idea. Folks outside might get a bit riled."
The leader nodded. "They might. You got a better idea?"
Cory thought for a moment. "I might. What do you say I call in one of the others out there and shoot him instead? If I manage to just give him a flesh wound, he could call out and tell the others it was just an accident."
The leader considered and looked at his men. "Be one of less of them to worry about when we take off out of here," the other man stated.
The leader nodded at Cory, who stepped to the door, saying over his shoulder, "You know I'll have to borrow a gun from one of you?"
The leader nodded. "And you know that there'll be three of us holding a gun on you, right?" He handed a gun to Cory.
Cory shrugged, opened the door a crack, and yelled out, "Fitzcairn! Need you in here."
Fitz looked over at Connor who shrugged. "Not in the plan for me to go in there yet," he objected quietly, taking off his gun.
"Plans change," Connor answered just as quietly.
Fitz shrugged and approached the partially open door, squeezing inside, and looking around. "What?" he asked. Cory took careful aim and shot Fitz in the arm. The leader grabbed the gun back immediately as Fitz emitted a roar of outraged pain. There were startled shouts from outside.
"Cory! What in bloody hell?" Fitz stared at the other Immortal incredulously, clutching his wound.
Cory shrugged. "The scent of money sometimes seems to have a bit of an intoxicating affect on me," he said lightly. "Makes me act crazy." Fitz's eyes followed Cory's gaze over to pile of gold and money. Comprehension dawned.
The leader laughed. "Guess you are with us, now, hmm, boy?"
Cory gave the leader a winsome smile. "Let's just get out of here with the loot," he suggested.
"What in the hell is going on in there?" Mosby shouted from outside.
The leader looked at Fitz, still holding a gun on him, "Now you just go to the door, and tell them there was an accident with a gun in here. No one got hurt."
Fitz did as he was told.
Mosby shouted again, "I want to see every single one of those children-and both of the men we sent in--at the window, alive and unharmed. NOW. Or we will try to see how many of you bastards we can kill before you harm any more of our children." The leader nodded to his men who started taking the children one by one to the window.
Cory helped Fitz bind his wound as the other man just stared at him. "You really couldn't manage to think of a way to achieve this treachery without causing me a painful, bloody injury?" Fitz asked caustically.
"Well," Cory said blithely as he led Fitz to the window, keeping the wounded arm hidden from view. "I could have shot Connor."
*******************************************
The leader of the robbers finished dictating the list of supplies for Cory to take back out to the town leaders. "Tell them to back the wagon up to the front of the schoolhouse," he ordered. "You bring the food, feed for the horses, guns, and ammo inside with you. You write all that down. I don't want to see you talking to nobody."
Fitz rolled his eyes, praying that Cory wouldn't deliver the obvious retort of inquiring if the leader did, then, indeed, want to see him talking to somebody. He really didn't think the twitchy robbers needed a grammar lesson.
Cory nodded, wrote what he was told to write, and took the list out the door, handing it to Connor who took it, read it, and nodded to Cory to step back and wait while the supplies were gathered.
************************************************
Cory returned to the school, laden down with supplies, as the wagon was backed up to the door. The leader ordered the other men to take turns, feeding themselves and the horses while the others continued to hold guns on the children, Fitz, and Cory.
"Are you going to feed the children?" Fitz asked clutching his no longer wounded arm as if still in great pain.
"Why should we feed the brats?" One of the other men asked.
Fitz sighed and shook his head, "Because they might be hungry," he suggested mildly, "and perhaps easier to manage if not hungry and cranky." As well as terrified and exhausted, he thought to himself. The leader considered Fitz and then nodded toward his men. "He has a point. Feed 'em."
As the robbers did as they were told, the leader continued to issue orders, finishing with, "So we load the children into the back of wagon along with the loot. I want you three men with guns on them at all times, climbing in with them and holding the guns at heads. I don't want any screw ups. You," he glared at Cory, "you tie our horses to back of the wagon. And then drive." He looked at the one remaining robber. "You ride shotgun and keep a gun held to this man's head."
"Hey," Cory protested. "Don't I get a gun?"
"No," the leader said shortly. "I ain't got no real reason to trust you yet."
The older child to whom Cory had whispered instructions sank to the ground and started to groan and writhe, clutching her stomach. "I need the outhouse," she gasped out.
Cory's eyes widened. "Omigod, the cholera," he said shortly.
"Get the doctor," the leader demanded firmly. "We're not dying from cholera. Get us the doctor now."
Cory went to the door and yelled for Dr. Adams.
***************************************
Methos entered the school house, carrying his doctor's bag, and laid his hand on the groaning schoolchild, talking with her quietly. He looked up after a few moments. "Yes, she has the symptoms of cholera. Have any of you men eaten after her or drunk the water she's drinking?"
The robbers looked at one another and shook their heads.
"Then none of you will likely be infected if you leave now," Methos said quietly. "If you don't want to be infected, you should go. You have been promised safe passage."
The leader looked over at Fitz. "Any reason to leave this one alive?" he asked roughly.
"I'll go with you," Fitz offered hastily. "As another hostage. No reason to kill me, is there?"
"Any reason to keep you alive or take another hostage?" the leader responded, drawing a knife.
"Might alarm the town folk," Cory said laconically. "If everyone who came in here doesn't leave alive."
The leader grunted, considered, and put the knife away. "Good point. Easy enough to kill him later." He looked around at his men. "Load up the children, guns on them at all times. Let's get the hell out of here. Doc, you can leave that girl on the floor. You're coming with us in case we need you."
"Am I indeed?" Methos said, pleasantly, standing to cooperate and grabbing his bag.
The robbers gathered up the children, as they had planned, loading them on the wagon with three men holding guns on the heads of several of them. Fitz and Methos loaded themselves on the wagon with the children.
As Cory tied up the horse to the back of the wagon, he caught the eyes of Fitz and Methos. "When I-" he mouthed quietly and made a motion with his hands that mimicked the motion used in snapping the reins to start the horses pulling the wagon. The other two men nodded as the leader and several of the robbers looked over suspiciously, yet didn't really catch the communication. Cory went to the front of the wagon, clambered on, and flicked the reins.
Fitz threw himself between the gun of one the robbers and the children. He gathered a shot to his torso. Cory abruptly somersaulted backwards and threw himself between the children and another of the robbers. He took a shot in his shoulder. Methos simply threw the third gunman out the wagon, his gun shooting harmlessly into the air.
Mattie nailed the leader of the robbers with a head shot and then shot another of the robbers in the leg. He fell, cursing and firing his gun, but the shots went wild and hit no one.
Mosby shot the robber who had shot Fitz in another fine head shot. Call shot the one who shot Cory. Austin blasted the shotgun rider through the heart, and Connor finished off the one whom Mattie had put on the ground.
None of the children had been hurt, though several were sobbing in fear. Fitz was dead. Methos sprang over to him, blocked his lifeless body from view, and started pushing on his chest and then breathing into his mouth.
"Come on, Fitz," he said quietly, pushing hard. "Come on. Breathe for me, will you?" Fitz gasped back to life. Methos nodded and then pulled scissors and bandages out of his bag, cutting off Fitz's shirt and wrapping his torso thoroughly.
Methos then went to Cory who was holding the wound in his shoulder. Methos bandaged the wound efficiently. "You realize you're going to have to wearing a sling for weeks and favor this arms for weeks, yes?" he said.
Cory grinned. "Might get me a lot of attention from the women around here. After all, we're going to be heroes now."
Call strode up checking each of the bodies for signs of life. Mosby and Connor joined him. Call looked over at Fitz who was about half covered in blood which was soaking through the bandages around him.
"Thought that one was dead for sure," Call said, sounding more than a bit puzzled.
"I think his ribs deflected the bullet," Methos explained. "It tore across his chest and broke a couple of ribs, but, as you can see, it didn't seem to hit anything vital."
"What was that . . ." Call made a pushing movement with his hands and went on, "thing you were doing with his chest?"
"Sometimes, if the heart has stopped from shock or such, we've discovered we can start it again by stimulating it manually," Methos explained. "It can also help to do some breathing for them."
Call nodded thoughtfully. "UnBob came back from the dead one time after I pounded on his chest. None of us were sure why that happened."
Parents started converging on the wagon to retrieve their frightened children, comforting, holding, and leading them away.
Connor leaped into the wagon. "I think we need to get these men to beds. Do we have a place to stay?"
Mosby nodded, ordering Austin to take the gold and money back to bank and a couple of trusted townsmen to guard. "We'll put you up in the hotel," he said. "You can meet our wildcat, Amanda. Austin drop these men off at the hotel on the way to the bank. You other men help Dr. Adams and MacLeod to get these men settled."
Mosby looked over at Connor. "And once you get your men settled, I think it might be wise for you and I to have a talk with Mr. McCormick, hmm?"
Call turned to help a pale and shaken Mattie make it back to her gun shop and to find out if her previous residence was still available. "I guess I can trust you to handle the marshal, Mosby. I don't think there's much of a chance our town folk are going to want to give these men up after what they've done today."
************************************************
Matthew was pacing in his cell when Mosby and Connor entered. "What in the name of God has been going on in this town?" he demanded. "It sounded as if you were doing some kind of re-enactment of the gun fight at the O.K. corral."
"The circumstances were somewhat similar in nature," Mosby concurred. "Those two men whom you claim to be fugitives from justice were both just shot saving the lives of innocent children who were being held hostage by armed robbers."
Matthew stared for a moment and then grinned slightly, almost as if he couldn't help himself from doing so. He sat down on the bunk in his cell.
"Sounds just like the two of them," he murmured. He looked up at Connor. "I assume neither of the two were actually killed?"
Connor shook his head, also grinning slightly. He moved closer to the cell and said very quietly. "Not permanently, anyway."
Matthew rolled his eyes and then looked at the other two men. "And I suppose you expect me to just forget I located these local heroes and ignore the attempted robbery in England?"
Mosby shrugged, sat down in the sheriff's chair, took several expensive cigars out of his pocket and offered two of them to Connor who in turn offered one to Matthew. Mosby lit his very carefully and studied the process as he did so.
"I'm really not very interested in what might have been done or not done in Europe," Mosby said quietly. "There are many men over here in the States who have come to make new lives away from the old country. Just as there are many men out here in the West who have come to make new lives after the War."
Mosby finished lighting his cigar and looked up at Matthew. "May I offer you a light, sir?" Matthew nodded warily, and Mosby stood and brought him a match.
"You seem to be a man of good sense, McCormick," Mosby continued. "Surely we can reach a reasonable compromise."
Matthew sat down again on the bunk and made his own little production out of lighting the cigar, also speaking thoughtfully as he did. "I have a badge to honor, a duty to uphold, and a job I am sworn to do faithfully. I'm not at all sure how we could achieve a compromise."
Mosby sighed and sat down again. "Sir, did you not say that the apprehension of these desperadoes was being performed as a courtesy? Has there been any formal extradition process?"
"That's not really the point, now is it?" Matthew said quietly.
"Oh, for God's sake," Connor said suddenly, getting thoroughly tired of the elaborate Southern courtesy saturating the room. "Mosby, can I speak with Matthew alone?"
Mosby rose and made a slight bow to both men. "Certainly, sir, and I do hope you have better luck than I in reaching a compromise with this absurdly stubborn, but obviously honorable gentleman." He shut the door behind him as he left.
Connor glared at Matthew. "Has it ever even remotely occurred to you, Matthew, that your rigid, uncompromising insistence on following the exact letter of the law is the source of Cory's persistent, flamboyant, and ridiculously prolonged juvenile rebellion?"
Matthew blinked. "Good heavens, Connor. Have you been absorbing dictionaries? Studying philosophy?" He stood up and approached the bars. "Of course, it has occurred to me. I'm not an idiot."
Connor sighed and sat down. "You practically raised the boy. You were his first teacher after he became Immortal."
Matthew nodded. "Yes. After I hung him for poaching and dug him up," he said grimly.
"Just how long do you plan on continuing to hang the idiot boy and dig him up again afterwards? Until he stops pretending to be Robin Hood? Which in his own weird way is Cory's code of ethical behavior. Why keep doing the same thing over and over when it never works?"
Matthew sighed. "Do you have a better idea?"
Connor grinned evilly and nodded.
************************************
Fitz, Cory, and Methos had pulled a table up to the ends of the two single beds in the room in which the wounded had been placed. Methos had grabbed a chair, and Cory and Fitz were sitting on the ends of their respective beds. Cory was dealing cards to the three of them and grumbling. "Poker works a lot better with more players."
"Right now we only have three-" Fitz was beginning patiently when the door to their hotel room opened. Matthew entered with his gun drawn and aimed at Cory.
"Reach for your gun, Cory," Matthew ordered. "Not you, Fitz. Cory, do it."
Fitz's mouth fell open and his eyes went wide. Methos simply stood and carefully moved out of the line of fire, looking curious and somewhat amused. Cory stared at Matthew in amazement and started to do as he was told. "I don't want to shoot you, Matthew." he said unhappily as he grabbed the weapon.
"What on earth makes you think I'd let you?" Matthew asked as he shot Cory point-blank in the heart. Cory gasped, looked down at the blood pouring out of his chest, stared incredulously at Matthew, and died.
Matthew smiled grimly. "So. All is taken care of. Fitz, you were shot and killed rescuing the children. Cory has just been killed resisting arrest. I report both of you found and dead, and my job is done. Right?" Connor entered behind Matthew and nodded.
"Good work," he said.
Fitz nodded, looking somewhat dumbfounded. Methos slid down the wall against which he was standing and sank down to the floor, laughing. He looked up at Connor. "Your solution?" Connor nodded.
"Do you think perhaps the two of them could change their names for a while?" Matthew asked somewhat plaintively of Connor.
"I doubt that will be a problem," Connor agreed.
Cory suddenly gasped back to life and stared at Matthew. "You shot me," he choked out.
Matthew nodded. "Apprehended and killed while resisting arrest," he explained again. "My task completed."
"You didn't take me in, have me hanged, and dig me up," Cory said with astonishment.
"Change of pace," Matthew said dryly.
Cory stared at him in utter amazement and then blurted out. "My God, Matthew, I think that's the most utterly bang-up thing you've ever done."
Methos started laughing even harder. "Was the pun intended?"
The entire room echoed with laughter. Connor pulled up another chair, sat down, and started shuffling cards, chuckling. "I think five would be just about the perfect number for an interesting game. Care to join us, Matthew?"
"I'd be honored, sir." Matthew took the chair Methos had vacated as Methos stood and shoved Fitz over at the end of the bed, to sit down himself.
There was a knock on the door. Eyes widened as Fitz and Cory hastily flopped back down on the beds. Cory hurried to cover his bloodied chest with the blankets. Methos stood and busied himself with his bag on a bedside table, arranging the contents and frowning with concentration.
Connor went to the door and opened it. Mosby looked into the room and smiled sardonically. "Ah," he said, "would you gentlemen be kind enough to deal me into what appears to be a friendly game?" He looked over at Matthew, raised an eyebrow, and continued, "I assume a compromise of some kind has been achieved?"
Matthew nodded warily. Mosby gave him a satisfied look and gazed at the table and chairs. "It appears we need more seating. I'll have some chairs sent up." He crossed back to the door, went out, and called out orders. Chairs were delivered. Six of them, along with six glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Mosby leaned against a wall, lighting another cigar as the deliveries were carried out.
Connor continued shuffling, keeping an eye on Mosby with bemusement. As soon as the chairs were arranged around the table and the delivery men had departed, closing the door, Mosby sat down, looked around, and said mildly, "There's really no reason for you two men to stay in bed if you're capable of sitting up and playing."
Methos choked and sat down at the table. Connor kept a completely blank face as did Matthew. Fitz and Cory both looked at Connor for some indication of what he expected them to do.
Mosby looked over at Connor. "And, there's really no reason to keep shuffling those cards until you wear them out," he said, putting a pile of cigars on the table and pouring himself a shot of fine Kentucky bourbon. "Perhaps, while they're cut and dealt, one of you gentlemen might be kind enough to explain to me exactly how it that you seem to recover so quickly and completely from holes being shot right into your bodies."
Connor rolled his eyes and motioned for Cory and Fitz to get up and join them. "Well," Connor began, "um . . . it's like this-"
end