Not Exactly According to Plan - Part One
Title: Not Exactly According to Plan
Author name:
kikiduck
Artist name:
alwayseven
Fandom: Maroon 5, The Voice
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Adam & everyone
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~12,000
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Summary: All Blake wanted was some help finding his wife and maybe get a chance to bring in Justin Timberlake, the most notorious train robber on the Transcontinental Line, but when he enlists the help of Adam Levine and his guys, Blake winds up with more than he bargained for.
Lovely artwork is here!
Chapter One
Christina owns the only saloon in Silver Canyon. It's not much of a town since the silver mines closed up, but she makes a living from the locals drinking their way through poker games, and her girls get some business from cowboys and miners passing through from Arizona Territory. It's not New Orleans or San Francisco, but it's hers.
Adam is still in Christina's bed when she wakes up. Honestly, she prefers it when he sneaks out in the middle of the night. It's so much simpler when they just put the money on the table and leave, except Adam doesn't pay and Christina doesn't do that anymore, now that she runs her own place.
She rolls her eyes and shoves at his shoulder. "Get up."
Adam pulls his arms up over his head for protection. "Why are you so mean in the morning?" He asks, his voice muffled by the pillow.
"Why are you still here?" Christina counters, pulling her skirt on over her petticoat and leaving the bodice for later. Buttoning all the buttons is a fifteen minute task, and she doesn't have time for that first thing in the morning.
Adam rolls over and grins at her. "You want to go another round?"
"No!" Christina says. "I have things I need to do. Get up."
The woodbox next to the stove is empty in the kitchen. It's supposed to be Max's job to keep it filled, but he spent his afternoon in the field to the back of the saloon with Mickey, learning how to throw a lasso and once again, his chores didn't get done. Christina pulls a shawl off the peg next to the kitchen door and steps outside.
Blake Shelton is passed out across the top of her woodpile. Not surprising, and yet still annoying. Christina wrinkles her nose, picks up a piece of wood from the end of the pile and gingerly pokes at Blake's shoulder with it. He doesn't move. She pokes him harder, in the ribs this time, and he jerks awake long enough to topple off the woodpile onto the ground.
"Blake." Christina says, not entirely unsympathetically. "Go home."
"What's the point?" is what it sounds like what Blake says, but he picks himself up off the ground and starts making his uneven way back towards the street, so Christina figures that's good enough. He can go sit somewhere else for all she cares, she just doesn't want him around her place all day.
When she comes back inside, Adam is sitting at the kitchen table with Max, showing him how to tie a particular kind of knot with his lasso. Adam looks up when she throws her armful of firewood into the box. "Hey, Max," he says. "You'd better fill the wood box."
Max obediently runs outside to do what Adam said, and it annoys Christina more than it needs to. Max is seven and obsessed with becoming a cowboy, which Christina is hoping he'll outgrow. Adam runs cattle and a few horses on a ranch just outside of town, and in Max's eyes, Adam and the rest of his guys can do no wrong. Christina isn't sure how she feels about it. Adam probably isn't the greatest role model for a kid, he's hot-headed and impulsive and tends to pull his gun on people when he's had a few too many, but he's always behaved himself around Max, and when it comes down to it, is the nicest guy Christina's ever been with.
Besides, she'd rather have Max looking up to Adam than Mickey. Christina isn't sure exactly how many other guy there are working at Adam's ranch, it seems like the count is up to seven or eight of them now, but Mickey is her least favorite. The rest of the guys are relatively clean and kept up for ranch hands, but Mickey needs a hair cut and a shave and a bath. He's in love with Christina's best girl, Elizabeth, and spends most of his free time upstairs at Christina's too. Everyone out at Adam's place seems to have a lot of free time.
"Blake was passed out on top of my woodpile." Christina says, kneeling down to rekindle the fire in the stove.
Adam laughs. "Poor Blake. He's really not taking Miranda leaving very well. I didn't think he could drink more then he already does, but he did last night."
"Where'd Miranda go?" Christina asks.
"Took off after Justin Timberlake a couple days ago." Adam says, puling out the knot in Max's lasso and neatly coiling it on one of the kitchen chairs.
"Justin Timberlake?" Christina repeats, amused. Most of the West knows Justin Timberlake as the most notorious robber on the Union and Pacific railroad lines. He's managed to rob payroll and gold supplies off trains numerous times and evade capture for the last two years. "Well, if anyone can bring in Justin Timberlake, it's probably Miranda."
"For sure." Adam agrees.
"I take it you're staying for breakfast?" Christina asks.
"Jesse's gone right now." Adam says. "No one wants to eat that crap the rest of the guys cook."
Of all the guys who work with Adam, Jesse is the one Christina tolerates the most. He's clean and quiet and when he comes into Christina's, it's just to play the piano in the saloon, not to go upstairs. He doesn't play saloon music either, he plays classical pieces. Christina likes that. It was Jesse who told her that Adam wasn't the marrying type. She likes that too. Usually, if a man's being nice to her kid and sticking around for meals, it means he wants to make an honest woman out of her, and Christina is plenty honest all on her own.
"Where did he go?" Christina asks.
Adam shrugs. "Who knows? He gets it in his head to wander sometimes."
Adam leaves after breakfast, but as always, he's back in the evening to play poker. The usual evening poker group at Christina's is Adam, Blake, Mr. Green who owns the hotel and livery, and occasionally Sheriff Daly. Sometimes some of Adam's guys join in too. This evening, it's Matt. Christina's not crazy about Matt. He's a better poker player than the rest of the table, and takes a certain amount of pleasure in riling Adam up after he gets drunk.
Adam drunk and riled up is not always a bad thing in Christina's book, but it's also how she lost her Parisian chandelier. Now no one's allowed to draw a gun at the poker table, regardless of whether they plan to shoot a person with it.
It's an uneventful evening until Alex Greenwald shows up. Alex, like Mickey, is always in need of a haircut and a bath, and spends plenty of time upstairs with Elizabeth if he happens to have money that week. He's just there to play poker this time, and two games in, Alex and Adam get in a shouting match over Alex's supposedly cheating. Adam's pretty drunk at this point, and Christina hadn't noticed any cheating, but it doesn't matter, because then Adam pulls his gun and shoots Alex. He doesn't kill him, but Alex rolls around on Christina's floor, getting blood and dirt and probably fleas everywhere.
"Oh." Matt says, looking down at Alex, and then shaking his head at Adam. "You know what the rule is about guns at the poker table."
Mickey and Elizabeth come out from Elizabeth's room in time to see Sheriff Daly take Adam out the door. Elizabeth runs down the stairs to tend to Alex. Upstairs, Mickey pushes a stray piece of unwashed hair behind his ear and pulls his shirt on far enough to button it. "James isn't going to be happy about this."
Chapter Two
To be honest, it's not the first time Blake's come to and found himself face down in a pile of straw. His experience has been that it's a sign the rest of the day is not about to go well. He rolls over and rubs his aching head and when he looks up, someone is glaring down at him. Someone who bears more than a passing resemblance to a disgruntled Jesus in a black cowboy hat.
Blake blinks a couple times, until the face swims into enough focus that he recognizes James Valentine. "Aw, hell." Blake says. James is one of Adam's guys, and unlike Adam, James never took much of a shine to Blake. Might have had something to do with a poker game they played a couple years ago, or it might just be that James is the kind of guy who doesn't care much for other people.
"What happened last night?" James asks.
"Do I look like a guy who can remember what happened last night?" Blake asks.
Apparently he doesn't, because James fills him in. "Mickey told me you and Adam decided to run off after Justin Timberlake, but then Adam got mad at Alex Greenwald for cheating at cards and shot him and now Carson's locked him up."
Blake takes all that information in slowly. He definitely doesn't remember anyone getting shot, and he might have been drunk, but that seems like the sort of thing someone would remember, drunk or not. Then again, Adam is always firing a gun at something. "Adam's in jail?"
"Yep." James manages to look even more exasperated than before. "If you want him to come along on your little adventure, you'd better come help me get him out."
"Hell," Blake says again, slowly dragging himself to his feet. He's getting too old to sleep in the stable. It isn't exactly great for feeling limber first thing in the morning. "This kind of thing never happened when Miranda was around."
He follows James down the street to the jail. It's a little two room building behind the general store, across from the Chinese laundry.
"Just follow my lead." James says as they climb the stairs to the door.
Blake frowns. He has no idea what that means.
"Carson, don't you think it's time you let him out?" James says to the sheriff, who's sitting with his feet up on his desk. There are two cells along the back wall. One is empty. Adam's standing in the other, looking pretty pissed off.
"I don't plan to let him out." Carson says, clearly bored with this conversation. "He shot a guy. Now he's in jail until the judge shows up."
"Oh, come on!" Adam yells from the cell. "He deserved it!"
James nods in agreement. "That's true. He did."
Carson frowns. "You weren't even there, Valentine."
"Maybe, but I know Alex, and if someone shoots at him, he deserved it."
"Judge can decide." Carson shrugs and looks back down at his newspaper.
"Fuck you, Carson!" Adam yells again. "You have no reason to hold me! Shooting a guy in the arm isn't murder!"
"It's drunk and disorderly, and it's attempted manslaughter," Carson says, not looking up from his paper. "Pretty sure the judge'll agree with me too."
"Wait a minute," Blake says, not sure he just heard correctly. "You've got him locked up for shooting Alex in the arm?"
"He's locked up for being drunk and disorderly and for attempted manslaughter." Carson repeats.
This is one of the dumbest things Blake has ever heard. "Carson, don't you have anything better to do than lock guys up for shooting someone in the arm?"
"Law's the law." Carson says. "Pretty sure the judge'll agree with me too."
"How long until the judge gets here?" James asks. Judging from the look on his face, Blake figures James is about two seconds away from shooting Carson in the arm.
Carson shrugs. "A week, maybe two weeks. Doesn't really matter."
Blake reaches into his vest and pulls out his billfold. "How much to just let him out for time served?"
"Two hundred." Carson says without blinking.
"Two hundred? That's highway robbery." Blake shakes his head. "I'll give you ten."
"Ten, Shelton?" Adam yells from the cell. "I'm worth more than that!"
"One hundred." Carson says.
"Twenty."
They settle on fifty. Blake makes Carson open the cell before he gives him the money.
Outside, Adam manages to say, "Never seen a lawman more easily bought than Carson Daly," before James comes up from behind and shoves Adam hard enough to knock his hat off and send him stumbling out into the street.
"What the fuck!" Adam yells at him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" James yells back. "Stop shooting people, Adam!"
"Jesus! I didn't do it on purpose!" Adam picks his hat back up and smacks the street dirt off it.
"Give me your gun." James holds out his hand.
"Fuck, no!" Adam turns so his gun side is farthest away from James.
"I'm serious. Give it to me."
"I'm not giving it to you! What if there's a snake? I hate snakes. I need to be able to shoot them."
James rolls his eyes. "Like you're a good enough shot to hit a snake."
Adam's standing in front of Blake now, and he draws himself up straight in indignation. "I'm a good enough shot to knock that hat off your head." Adam pulls his gun, James dives for the ground, and Blake reaches over and takes the gun out of Adam's hand, real easy. It's a little trick he picked up from Miranda, and it never stops being funny.
Adam turns around to face Blake, his hand still out like his gun should be in it. Blake can't exactly read the look on Adam's face. It almost looks like he's amused, but Blake's never had a time where the guy on the other end thought it was funny.
"Shit." James says from the ground. "Adam, you've got to knock this off."
"Can I have it back?" Adam asks Blake.
Blake considers this for a minute. "I don't know, you seem pretty damn determined to shoot something."
Adam sighs. "I'm not gonna shoot anything. He just made me mad." He turns back to James, who's picking himself up off the ground. "Stop saying I'm a bad shot. I'm not."
"Fine." James says. "But you have to stop pulling your gun every time something makes you mad."
Adam laughs. "We all know that's not gonna happen."
Chapter Three
They ride back out to the ranch. Mickey's sitting out on the front steps of the house, tossing feed at his flock of chickens. He's wearing his favorite sweater, and it looks like it could use a good laundering. James knows they're not the cleanest bunch of guys, but Mickey in particular, always seems to be in need of a bath.
"Mickey!" Adam yells.
The chickens scatter in every direction, wings flapping, and Mickey looks up, squinting into the sun. "Hey, how'd you get out?"
Adam sticks his chest out. "Ain't built a jail yet that can hold me."
"Uh-huh." Mickey says.
"Blake paid Carson to get him out." James says flatly.
"Uh-huh." Mickey nods, like this makes more sense. The chickens have returned to finish off the feed, and his attention focuses back on them. Adam scuffs dirt towards the chickens as he climbs the steps, and Mickey reaches over and punches Adam in the leg. "Jesse's back." He says to James.
This is the only good news James has heard all week. Inside, Matt's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, and Jesse's standing at the stove in the leather blacksmithing apron he uses to cook, flipping pancakes like it's any normal morning and he hasn't been missing for the last two weeks.
"Well, look who's back." Adam says, pouring himself coffee from the pot on the stove. "Were you worried about me?"
"Least worried about you I've ever been." Jesse says matter-of-factly. James doesn't disagree with this assessment. At least when Adam's in jail, they know where he is and that he isn't getting into more trouble.
This isn't the answer Adam wanted to hear. He frowns and sits down at the table, kicking one of the other chairs out with his foot. "Sit down, Blake."
"Is he eating breakfast here?" James asks suspiciously. It's not every morning that Jesse makes pancakes, and with Matt, now there's two extra guys at the table. James can do the math on that one, and the math says fewer pancakes for him.
"Yes, he is." Adam says. "Guy paid to get me out of jail, least I can do is give him some pancakes."
This is what James had been afraid would happen when Blake paid Carson. "You know, paying Carson off doesn't mean Blake owns you now." James informs Adam. "President Lincoln freed the slaves."
"Christ." Adam rolls his eyes. "James. Don't start about President Lincoln."
James stares across the table at Blake, who looks like he might be sobering up a little. As much as Blake Shelton ever does. "You fight for the Union or the Confederacy?"
"Neither." Blake says. "Spent most of that time in Arizona, fighting off the Indians."
Jesse sets a stack of plates down on the table, and follows up with another plate with stacks of pancakes. Jesse's the only one of them that can really cook, and he's outdone himself this time. The pancakes have some kind of berry cooked in them. James isn't surprised Matt has been sitting around, waiting.
Blake doesn't exactly understand how serving food works at their table, and by the time he grabs a fork, Matt and Adam have already taken theirs, and James looks Blake right in the eye as he takes the rest of the pancakes off the plate.
Adam reaches over and punches James in the arm, hard. "Didn't they teach you any fucking manners in Nebraska? You don't get all the pancakes!"
"Leave some for Mickey too." Jesse says from in front of the stove.
"Leave some for Mickey too!" Adam repeats to James in a scolding tone. He grabs another plate for Mickey and starts redistributing the pancakes off James' and Matt's plates. "MICKEY!" He yells towards the kitchen door. "Breakfast!"
James frowns, watching the number of pancakes on his plate shrink. "Why are you eating breakfast here anyway?" He asks Matt. "Didn't your wife already make breakfast at your place?"
"I can eat two breakfasts if I want." Matt says calmly.
Mickey comes inside and sits next to Blake. James can hear leftover pieces of chicken feed falling from Mickey's sweater and hitting the floor. "What are you wearing?" Mickey says to Jesse.
"Really?" Adam raises an eyebrow at Mickey. "You're raining feed onto the floor, and you're going to talk shit about what other people are wearing?"
Mickey looks down at his clothes. "I like this sweater."
"I'm surprised those girls at Christina's even speak to you." Adam says.
Mickey shrugs. "They love me for my mind and body. Not my clothes."
"That's disgusting," Adam says around a mouthful of pancake. "Don't talk about your body at the breakfast table, I don't want to hear it."
They forgot to save a plate for Jesse, but he sits down next to Adam and steals one of the pancakes off his plate.
"Jesse, why are you wearing that fucking apron?" Adam asks.
"I have some horseshoes in the oven." Jesse says calmly and Adam just stares skeptically like he can't decide if Jesse's serious or not. Blake looks like he wants to laugh, but isn't sure if he's supposed to.
"That was a joke." Jesse clarifies, and then Matt laughs.
"James caught my other apron on fire." Jesse says.
"Not on purpose." James says.
"So, where'd you go, Jesse?" Mickey asks.
"You know," Adam says. "You could tell us where you're going ahead of time. What if something happened to you? We wouldn't even know where to start looking."
Jesse stares calmly at Adam. "I didn't know where I was going. That's kind of the entire point, Adam."
Adam looks like he's going to argue about this, but then changes his mind and takes another bite of food instead. "So where'd you go?"
"I was over by Carson City, and I ran into this Numa Paiute scout, and I went up to Oregon with him and met his family and helped them harvest some camas." Jesse says.
Adam makes a face at the rest of the table, a sort of "can you believe he just said that?" Blake looks like he can't believe it. James isn't sure he'd even put it in the top ten weirdest things Jesse's ever said. Of course he ran into a Paiute scout and went to Oregon with them.
Mickey is also unfazed by what Jesse just said. "Did you bring any back? I love camas."
"No." Jesse takes the last pancake off Adam's plate. "There's a shortage up there. A lot of the settlers who moved in were grazing livestock in the camas fields and now they don't think they'll have enough to harvest."
"Oh." Mickey says, disappointed. "Pigs?"
"I don't know. I don't speak Numu, and it's kind of close to Monachi, but that was all I understood."
"Jesse likes to learn Indian languages for fun." Adam explains for Blake's benefit.
"It's not just for fun, sometimes it's useful too." Jesse says.
"Adam, when are we heading out?" Mickey asks.
Adam raises his eyebrows. "Since when are you so excited about heading out on the trail, Mickey?"
"I'm excited about a $1000 reward." Mickey says.
"What?" Adam says disbelievingly. "$1000? What are you talking about?"
"There's a $1000 reward to bring in Justin Timberlake," Mickey says. "How did you not know that?"
"You know I don't pay attention to that stuff," Adam says dismissively, then turns and punches James in the shoulder, again. "James, I bring you a paper every time they come in. I expect you to keep me informed."
"I thought you brought me those because you knew I liked reading them." James says, disappointed.
"That is why I bring you them." Adam admits. "But I also expect you to keep me informed."
"Well, there's a $1000 bounty out for Justin Timberlake." James reports. "There's some other guys out there with bounties on their heads too, if you've decided this is your new career path."
"It'll be nice to have you bringing in some cash for a change." Matt says cheerfully.
"Can we go back for a minute here?" Jesse asks. Jesse doesn't speak loudly, and it always seems like he shouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise, especially against Adam, but Adam always seems to hear what Jesse said, even if he's still talking at the same time. "When did we decide we're riding off after Justin Timberlake? Are we going to discuss this at all?"
"What is there to discuss?" Adam asks. "It's Justin Timberlake. It's $1000. Blake's in too, since Miranda's not coming back until Justin's brought in."
"There's lots of stuff to discuss." Matt says. "Like how you're going to be a terrible bounty hunter. Or how Timberlake has shot at least twenty men. I don't want to get shot. I've got a wife and kids now."
"Okay!" Adam says, smacking his hand on the table. "Matt's opposed to getting shot. Who else wants to weigh in?"
"I do!" Jesse says, and he actually raises his voice, which gets everyone's attention. "Adam, we had an agreement we weren't going to go riding off like this anymore."
Adam's never liked being contradicted, as long as James can remember. It's part of why James enjoys arguing with Adam so much. "Then don't come along." Adam says to Jesse, annoyed. "You want to stay here and pick berries and pet bunnies or whatever the fuck it is you do all day, go for it."
"Yeah." Jesse says. "So if Matt and I are out, you and Mickey and the town drunk are going to bring in Justin Timberlake? I don't think so."
Blake blinks a couple times. "The town drunk? Is that what people call me?"
"No." Adam says. "No one calls you that."
"We just call you Blake." Mickey says. "The drunk part is assumed."
"This is the stupidest thing you've ever done." Jesse says to Adam.
"This is not even close to the stupidest thing he's ever done." Matt says.
"You think everything I do is stupid." Adam counters.
"This is the sort of stupid thing that's going to get someone killed." Jesse says firmly. "James? Did you really think this was a good idea?"
James looks up at Jesse, a little surprised Jesse's calling him out like this. Of course he thinks it's a bad idea, but it's not fair to blame him for it, he wasn't even at Christina's the night Adam and Blake cooked up this little plan. "$1000 is a lot of money." James says evenly. "I think Blake is a liability, though."
"Hey!" Blake says. "Just because I'm the town drunk doesn't mean I can't shoot."
"Can you shoot?" Adam asks skeptically.
"Course I can shoot." Blake says. "James just doesn't want me coming along because he's never liked me."
"That's true." James says. He never has cared much for Blake's influence on Adam.
"To be fair, James doesn't really like anybody." Mickey points out.
"That's true." James says again.
Chapter Four
Matt is usually right about most things, but James doesn't like admitting it. He will admit Matt is right about one thing. Adam will be a terrible bounty hunter. Adam isn't big on strategy or plans or thinking anything through. Adam's more of a shoot first, ask questions later guy. That might work sometimes, but James knows enough about Justin Timberlake to know that approach isn't going to work.
The night before they plan to leave, coyotes kill three of Mickey's chickens. Predictably, Mickey takes it hard, locks himself in one of the bedrooms and refuses to come out.
Also predictably, Adam is annoyed. "Will you go talk to him, please?" Adam says to Jesse in the kitchen. "I want to ride out today."
"He's just upset." Jesse says. "You know how he gets about animals. Leave him alone."
"I don't know why you're in such a hurry, Blake isn't even here yet." James adds. The point he wants to make is Blake is probably still passed out somewhere in town, but Adam's already cranky enough that saying it outright is a bad idea.
"Maybe it's better if he doesn't come along." Adam says, still talking about Mickey. "He's not going to be any help in a gunfight."
"We can't just leave him here." Jesse says.
"Why not?" Adam asks. "Matt and Shawn will still be here. Like he doesn't spend all his time down with the girls at Christina's anyway?"
"Adam." Jesse says reproachfully.
James is sitting on the other side of the table, and can see Mickey standing in the hallway. He clears his throat and tips his head towards the doorway.
"Hey, Mickey." Jesse says, raising his eyebrows at Adam.
"I'm going to go tell Matt's wife to make sure and put the chickens in the barn at night while we're gone." Mickey says, and heads out the door, pointedly ignoring Adam. Jesse and James exchange looks.
"Nice job, Adam." Jesse says sarcastically.
"Fuck off." Adam says, still annoyed. "James, come on."
James shrugs at Jesse and follows Adam down to the barn. Adam hitches his horse to the fence outside and stops before he retrieves his saddle, looking at the chicken feathers scattered all around the barnyard. Based on the sheer number of feathers blowing up against the fence and side of the barn, James figures the entire flock must be bald.
Adam goes back in the barn and comes back out with an empty burlap grain sack and starts picking up the chicken feathers. James knows Adam's only doing it because he feels guilty about saying Mickey should stay behind.
Blake rides in as Adam's finishing up. He's not drunk as far as James can tell, and he supposes that's a start. "What are you doing?" Blake asks Adam.
"Picking up feathers, what the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Adam says, shoving another handful into the sack.
James has just finished saddling Jesse's horse and is getting the pack horse ready when Jesse comes down from the house with the rest of the supplies. Behind him, James can see both Matt and Mickey walking over from Matt's house. Matt has a rifle slung over each shoulder. No one has ever been able to accuse Matt of not being prepared.
"I thought you said you weren't coming, Flynn." Adam says, tying the top of the sack closed.
"I said I didn't want to get shot." Matt corrects. "There's a difference. Besides, you can't go after Timberlake without some guys who can actually shoot."
"I know how to shoot." Jesse says mildly. "I just prefer not to."
"Jesse prefers to stab things." Adam says. Jesse wears a Bowie knife on his belt, and Adam's not exactly joking. James saw Jesse take out a rattlesnake with that knife once. Jesse might be a peacemaker, but he's not above defending himself if he ends up in a corner.
"I figured you just used that to cut up vegetables or something." Blake says to Jesse.
"Knives are more efficient." Jesse says.
"I'll tell you what's efficient." Matt announces. "Dynamite is efficient."
Adam snorts. "Matt loves a good explosion."
It's not like they haven't spent any time on the trail before, and it only takes a couple hours before they fall back into the usual routine. Even the addition of Blake doesn't make a difference. He sticks to the middle of the group with Mickey and Matt and the packhorse. Jesse rides off ahead on his own, and it takes Adam about an hour to get bored and fidgety.
"Hey." Adam points up above them. "Look, an eagle."
James squints up at it. There's no way it's an eagle, it's a hawk. A big one, but still a hawk. "That's a hawk." James corrects.
Arguing over whether it's an eagle or a hawk keeps Adam and James occupied for the next two hours of riding. Neither of them really cares what the bird was, although a part of James knows he was right and wishes Adam would just acknowledge it, but arguing is how they've always killed time. It's got them through a war, riding across the better part of the country, numerous cattle drives, and plenty of winter nights when James was out of reading material.
After the seventh or eighth time Adam says, "There's no fucking way, that bird was huge! No way it was a hawk!" Mickey pulls out his flask and takes a drink before passing it to Blake. "They're going to do this the entire way. It's easier this way, trust me."
Blake doesn't have to be told twice. He takes a drink.
"Give me some too." Matt says. "Before I shoot both of them."
Jesse's still gone when they stop to make camp for the night, and Matt does a terrible job of cooking dinner over a campfire. James can hear Blake asking Matt about Jesse's scouting abilities, but he doesn't really listen, since Adam picks that moment to argue with James over where they should go tomorrow. Adam's terrible at navigating and he knows it, but he doesn't let that stop him from arguing with James every time.
"So he's like an advance scout." Blake is saying when Adam and James come back over to the fire.
"Advance scout, butterfly chaser, whatever." Matt says, lifting the pan of cornbread off the fire as it begins to smoke.
"Look." Adam says firmly. "Jesse's a free spirit. You can't clip his wings."
"Well, I wish he'd fly back in time to cook dinner." Matt says, knocking the semi-burned cornbread out of the pan. "I don't think this is edible."
"Give it to James." Adam says. "He'll eat anything."
It's not the worst thing James has ever eaten, but it's not what he would call good either. "It's pretty bad." He confirms after taking a bite. Then he takes a second bite, because it's not like they're going to get anything else to eat.
"Well, you're still eating it, so how bad can it be?" Blake reasons. James just shrugs. He's not going to argue with Blake about cornbread.
They're sitting around the fire, listening to Blake's story about the time Miranda single-handedly broke up a bar fight in San Antonio when James hears someone approaching their camp. His rifle is up and pointed towards the noise, mostly out of muscle memory than any real legitimate concern, and then Jesse steps in close enough to be visible in the fire light.
"Honestly, James," Jesse says, pushing the rifle barrel to the side, away from his head. "I even signaled. Couldn't you tell that was my bird call?"
This is the funniest thing Adam's ever heard anyone say. "Yeah, James!" He says when he's stopped laughing hard enough to be able to speak. "Couldn't you tell?"
James frowns and sets his rifle back down.
"Little jumpy tonight, Jimmy?" Adam adds. James briefly considers shooting Adam just to shut him up. The thing is, wounded Adam would just be more annoying. Some times, the only thing keeping James from shooting Adam is the knowledge that Adam will never, ever let him forget it.
"Someone has to pay attention," he says instead.
"Picked you some greens." Jesse says to Mickey, handing him the woven half-basket half-bag he usually carries on his saddle instead of a regular pannier bag. James doesn't remember where the baskets came from, but it's a safe bet to assume Jesse picked them up during one of the times he ended up spending two weeks with whatever Indian tribe he ran across.
"Thanks, man." Mickey tries to tip the basket close enough to the fire to be able to see inside. "What are these? They're not going to kill me, are they?"
"No." Jesse says. "I could though, if I wanted to. You guys would have no idea."
"I tell myself that every day." Mickey says solemnly. "Jesse could kill me if wanted to."
This sends Adam off into another fit of laughter. James hadn't really been paying attention, but Adam's probably more drunk than he should be.
"Hey, remember that time you hit me in the face with the butt of your rifle?" Matt asks Jesse.
"Yeah." Jesse says. "That was an accident though."
"I know." Matt says. "If it had been on purpose, you totally would have killed me."
"That's exactly my point." Mickey says. "Don't let him fool you."
Part Two Crossposted from Dreamwidth. The DW entry has
comments.
Author name:
kikiduck
Artist name:
alwayseven
Fandom: Maroon 5, The Voice
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Adam & everyone
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~12,000
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Summary: All Blake wanted was some help finding his wife and maybe get a chance to bring in Justin Timberlake, the most notorious train robber on the Transcontinental Line, but when he enlists the help of Adam Levine and his guys, Blake winds up with more than he bargained for.
Lovely artwork is here!
Chapter One
Christina owns the only saloon in Silver Canyon. It's not much of a town since the silver mines closed up, but she makes a living from the locals drinking their way through poker games, and her girls get some business from cowboys and miners passing through from Arizona Territory. It's not New Orleans or San Francisco, but it's hers.
Adam is still in Christina's bed when she wakes up. Honestly, she prefers it when he sneaks out in the middle of the night. It's so much simpler when they just put the money on the table and leave, except Adam doesn't pay and Christina doesn't do that anymore, now that she runs her own place.
She rolls her eyes and shoves at his shoulder. "Get up."
Adam pulls his arms up over his head for protection. "Why are you so mean in the morning?" He asks, his voice muffled by the pillow.
"Why are you still here?" Christina counters, pulling her skirt on over her petticoat and leaving the bodice for later. Buttoning all the buttons is a fifteen minute task, and she doesn't have time for that first thing in the morning.
Adam rolls over and grins at her. "You want to go another round?"
"No!" Christina says. "I have things I need to do. Get up."
The woodbox next to the stove is empty in the kitchen. It's supposed to be Max's job to keep it filled, but he spent his afternoon in the field to the back of the saloon with Mickey, learning how to throw a lasso and once again, his chores didn't get done. Christina pulls a shawl off the peg next to the kitchen door and steps outside.
Blake Shelton is passed out across the top of her woodpile. Not surprising, and yet still annoying. Christina wrinkles her nose, picks up a piece of wood from the end of the pile and gingerly pokes at Blake's shoulder with it. He doesn't move. She pokes him harder, in the ribs this time, and he jerks awake long enough to topple off the woodpile onto the ground.
"Blake." Christina says, not entirely unsympathetically. "Go home."
"What's the point?" is what it sounds like what Blake says, but he picks himself up off the ground and starts making his uneven way back towards the street, so Christina figures that's good enough. He can go sit somewhere else for all she cares, she just doesn't want him around her place all day.
When she comes back inside, Adam is sitting at the kitchen table with Max, showing him how to tie a particular kind of knot with his lasso. Adam looks up when she throws her armful of firewood into the box. "Hey, Max," he says. "You'd better fill the wood box."
Max obediently runs outside to do what Adam said, and it annoys Christina more than it needs to. Max is seven and obsessed with becoming a cowboy, which Christina is hoping he'll outgrow. Adam runs cattle and a few horses on a ranch just outside of town, and in Max's eyes, Adam and the rest of his guys can do no wrong. Christina isn't sure how she feels about it. Adam probably isn't the greatest role model for a kid, he's hot-headed and impulsive and tends to pull his gun on people when he's had a few too many, but he's always behaved himself around Max, and when it comes down to it, is the nicest guy Christina's ever been with.
Besides, she'd rather have Max looking up to Adam than Mickey. Christina isn't sure exactly how many other guy there are working at Adam's ranch, it seems like the count is up to seven or eight of them now, but Mickey is her least favorite. The rest of the guys are relatively clean and kept up for ranch hands, but Mickey needs a hair cut and a shave and a bath. He's in love with Christina's best girl, Elizabeth, and spends most of his free time upstairs at Christina's too. Everyone out at Adam's place seems to have a lot of free time.
"Blake was passed out on top of my woodpile." Christina says, kneeling down to rekindle the fire in the stove.
Adam laughs. "Poor Blake. He's really not taking Miranda leaving very well. I didn't think he could drink more then he already does, but he did last night."
"Where'd Miranda go?" Christina asks.
"Took off after Justin Timberlake a couple days ago." Adam says, puling out the knot in Max's lasso and neatly coiling it on one of the kitchen chairs.
"Justin Timberlake?" Christina repeats, amused. Most of the West knows Justin Timberlake as the most notorious robber on the Union and Pacific railroad lines. He's managed to rob payroll and gold supplies off trains numerous times and evade capture for the last two years. "Well, if anyone can bring in Justin Timberlake, it's probably Miranda."
"For sure." Adam agrees.
"I take it you're staying for breakfast?" Christina asks.
"Jesse's gone right now." Adam says. "No one wants to eat that crap the rest of the guys cook."
Of all the guys who work with Adam, Jesse is the one Christina tolerates the most. He's clean and quiet and when he comes into Christina's, it's just to play the piano in the saloon, not to go upstairs. He doesn't play saloon music either, he plays classical pieces. Christina likes that. It was Jesse who told her that Adam wasn't the marrying type. She likes that too. Usually, if a man's being nice to her kid and sticking around for meals, it means he wants to make an honest woman out of her, and Christina is plenty honest all on her own.
"Where did he go?" Christina asks.
Adam shrugs. "Who knows? He gets it in his head to wander sometimes."
Adam leaves after breakfast, but as always, he's back in the evening to play poker. The usual evening poker group at Christina's is Adam, Blake, Mr. Green who owns the hotel and livery, and occasionally Sheriff Daly. Sometimes some of Adam's guys join in too. This evening, it's Matt. Christina's not crazy about Matt. He's a better poker player than the rest of the table, and takes a certain amount of pleasure in riling Adam up after he gets drunk.
Adam drunk and riled up is not always a bad thing in Christina's book, but it's also how she lost her Parisian chandelier. Now no one's allowed to draw a gun at the poker table, regardless of whether they plan to shoot a person with it.
It's an uneventful evening until Alex Greenwald shows up. Alex, like Mickey, is always in need of a haircut and a bath, and spends plenty of time upstairs with Elizabeth if he happens to have money that week. He's just there to play poker this time, and two games in, Alex and Adam get in a shouting match over Alex's supposedly cheating. Adam's pretty drunk at this point, and Christina hadn't noticed any cheating, but it doesn't matter, because then Adam pulls his gun and shoots Alex. He doesn't kill him, but Alex rolls around on Christina's floor, getting blood and dirt and probably fleas everywhere.
"Oh." Matt says, looking down at Alex, and then shaking his head at Adam. "You know what the rule is about guns at the poker table."
Mickey and Elizabeth come out from Elizabeth's room in time to see Sheriff Daly take Adam out the door. Elizabeth runs down the stairs to tend to Alex. Upstairs, Mickey pushes a stray piece of unwashed hair behind his ear and pulls his shirt on far enough to button it. "James isn't going to be happy about this."
Chapter Two
To be honest, it's not the first time Blake's come to and found himself face down in a pile of straw. His experience has been that it's a sign the rest of the day is not about to go well. He rolls over and rubs his aching head and when he looks up, someone is glaring down at him. Someone who bears more than a passing resemblance to a disgruntled Jesus in a black cowboy hat.
Blake blinks a couple times, until the face swims into enough focus that he recognizes James Valentine. "Aw, hell." Blake says. James is one of Adam's guys, and unlike Adam, James never took much of a shine to Blake. Might have had something to do with a poker game they played a couple years ago, or it might just be that James is the kind of guy who doesn't care much for other people.
"What happened last night?" James asks.
"Do I look like a guy who can remember what happened last night?" Blake asks.
Apparently he doesn't, because James fills him in. "Mickey told me you and Adam decided to run off after Justin Timberlake, but then Adam got mad at Alex Greenwald for cheating at cards and shot him and now Carson's locked him up."
Blake takes all that information in slowly. He definitely doesn't remember anyone getting shot, and he might have been drunk, but that seems like the sort of thing someone would remember, drunk or not. Then again, Adam is always firing a gun at something. "Adam's in jail?"
"Yep." James manages to look even more exasperated than before. "If you want him to come along on your little adventure, you'd better come help me get him out."
"Hell," Blake says again, slowly dragging himself to his feet. He's getting too old to sleep in the stable. It isn't exactly great for feeling limber first thing in the morning. "This kind of thing never happened when Miranda was around."
He follows James down the street to the jail. It's a little two room building behind the general store, across from the Chinese laundry.
"Just follow my lead." James says as they climb the stairs to the door.
Blake frowns. He has no idea what that means.
"Carson, don't you think it's time you let him out?" James says to the sheriff, who's sitting with his feet up on his desk. There are two cells along the back wall. One is empty. Adam's standing in the other, looking pretty pissed off.
"I don't plan to let him out." Carson says, clearly bored with this conversation. "He shot a guy. Now he's in jail until the judge shows up."
"Oh, come on!" Adam yells from the cell. "He deserved it!"
James nods in agreement. "That's true. He did."
Carson frowns. "You weren't even there, Valentine."
"Maybe, but I know Alex, and if someone shoots at him, he deserved it."
"Judge can decide." Carson shrugs and looks back down at his newspaper.
"Fuck you, Carson!" Adam yells again. "You have no reason to hold me! Shooting a guy in the arm isn't murder!"
"It's drunk and disorderly, and it's attempted manslaughter," Carson says, not looking up from his paper. "Pretty sure the judge'll agree with me too."
"Wait a minute," Blake says, not sure he just heard correctly. "You've got him locked up for shooting Alex in the arm?"
"He's locked up for being drunk and disorderly and for attempted manslaughter." Carson repeats.
This is one of the dumbest things Blake has ever heard. "Carson, don't you have anything better to do than lock guys up for shooting someone in the arm?"
"Law's the law." Carson says. "Pretty sure the judge'll agree with me too."
"How long until the judge gets here?" James asks. Judging from the look on his face, Blake figures James is about two seconds away from shooting Carson in the arm.
Carson shrugs. "A week, maybe two weeks. Doesn't really matter."
Blake reaches into his vest and pulls out his billfold. "How much to just let him out for time served?"
"Two hundred." Carson says without blinking.
"Two hundred? That's highway robbery." Blake shakes his head. "I'll give you ten."
"Ten, Shelton?" Adam yells from the cell. "I'm worth more than that!"
"One hundred." Carson says.
"Twenty."
They settle on fifty. Blake makes Carson open the cell before he gives him the money.
Outside, Adam manages to say, "Never seen a lawman more easily bought than Carson Daly," before James comes up from behind and shoves Adam hard enough to knock his hat off and send him stumbling out into the street.
"What the fuck!" Adam yells at him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" James yells back. "Stop shooting people, Adam!"
"Jesus! I didn't do it on purpose!" Adam picks his hat back up and smacks the street dirt off it.
"Give me your gun." James holds out his hand.
"Fuck, no!" Adam turns so his gun side is farthest away from James.
"I'm serious. Give it to me."
"I'm not giving it to you! What if there's a snake? I hate snakes. I need to be able to shoot them."
James rolls his eyes. "Like you're a good enough shot to hit a snake."
Adam's standing in front of Blake now, and he draws himself up straight in indignation. "I'm a good enough shot to knock that hat off your head." Adam pulls his gun, James dives for the ground, and Blake reaches over and takes the gun out of Adam's hand, real easy. It's a little trick he picked up from Miranda, and it never stops being funny.
Adam turns around to face Blake, his hand still out like his gun should be in it. Blake can't exactly read the look on Adam's face. It almost looks like he's amused, but Blake's never had a time where the guy on the other end thought it was funny.
"Shit." James says from the ground. "Adam, you've got to knock this off."
"Can I have it back?" Adam asks Blake.
Blake considers this for a minute. "I don't know, you seem pretty damn determined to shoot something."
Adam sighs. "I'm not gonna shoot anything. He just made me mad." He turns back to James, who's picking himself up off the ground. "Stop saying I'm a bad shot. I'm not."
"Fine." James says. "But you have to stop pulling your gun every time something makes you mad."
Adam laughs. "We all know that's not gonna happen."
Chapter Three
They ride back out to the ranch. Mickey's sitting out on the front steps of the house, tossing feed at his flock of chickens. He's wearing his favorite sweater, and it looks like it could use a good laundering. James knows they're not the cleanest bunch of guys, but Mickey in particular, always seems to be in need of a bath.
"Mickey!" Adam yells.
The chickens scatter in every direction, wings flapping, and Mickey looks up, squinting into the sun. "Hey, how'd you get out?"
Adam sticks his chest out. "Ain't built a jail yet that can hold me."
"Uh-huh." Mickey says.
"Blake paid Carson to get him out." James says flatly.
"Uh-huh." Mickey nods, like this makes more sense. The chickens have returned to finish off the feed, and his attention focuses back on them. Adam scuffs dirt towards the chickens as he climbs the steps, and Mickey reaches over and punches Adam in the leg. "Jesse's back." He says to James.
This is the only good news James has heard all week. Inside, Matt's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, and Jesse's standing at the stove in the leather blacksmithing apron he uses to cook, flipping pancakes like it's any normal morning and he hasn't been missing for the last two weeks.
"Well, look who's back." Adam says, pouring himself coffee from the pot on the stove. "Were you worried about me?"
"Least worried about you I've ever been." Jesse says matter-of-factly. James doesn't disagree with this assessment. At least when Adam's in jail, they know where he is and that he isn't getting into more trouble.
This isn't the answer Adam wanted to hear. He frowns and sits down at the table, kicking one of the other chairs out with his foot. "Sit down, Blake."
"Is he eating breakfast here?" James asks suspiciously. It's not every morning that Jesse makes pancakes, and with Matt, now there's two extra guys at the table. James can do the math on that one, and the math says fewer pancakes for him.
"Yes, he is." Adam says. "Guy paid to get me out of jail, least I can do is give him some pancakes."
This is what James had been afraid would happen when Blake paid Carson. "You know, paying Carson off doesn't mean Blake owns you now." James informs Adam. "President Lincoln freed the slaves."
"Christ." Adam rolls his eyes. "James. Don't start about President Lincoln."
James stares across the table at Blake, who looks like he might be sobering up a little. As much as Blake Shelton ever does. "You fight for the Union or the Confederacy?"
"Neither." Blake says. "Spent most of that time in Arizona, fighting off the Indians."
Jesse sets a stack of plates down on the table, and follows up with another plate with stacks of pancakes. Jesse's the only one of them that can really cook, and he's outdone himself this time. The pancakes have some kind of berry cooked in them. James isn't surprised Matt has been sitting around, waiting.
Blake doesn't exactly understand how serving food works at their table, and by the time he grabs a fork, Matt and Adam have already taken theirs, and James looks Blake right in the eye as he takes the rest of the pancakes off the plate.
Adam reaches over and punches James in the arm, hard. "Didn't they teach you any fucking manners in Nebraska? You don't get all the pancakes!"
"Leave some for Mickey too." Jesse says from in front of the stove.
"Leave some for Mickey too!" Adam repeats to James in a scolding tone. He grabs another plate for Mickey and starts redistributing the pancakes off James' and Matt's plates. "MICKEY!" He yells towards the kitchen door. "Breakfast!"
James frowns, watching the number of pancakes on his plate shrink. "Why are you eating breakfast here anyway?" He asks Matt. "Didn't your wife already make breakfast at your place?"
"I can eat two breakfasts if I want." Matt says calmly.
Mickey comes inside and sits next to Blake. James can hear leftover pieces of chicken feed falling from Mickey's sweater and hitting the floor. "What are you wearing?" Mickey says to Jesse.
"Really?" Adam raises an eyebrow at Mickey. "You're raining feed onto the floor, and you're going to talk shit about what other people are wearing?"
Mickey looks down at his clothes. "I like this sweater."
"I'm surprised those girls at Christina's even speak to you." Adam says.
Mickey shrugs. "They love me for my mind and body. Not my clothes."
"That's disgusting," Adam says around a mouthful of pancake. "Don't talk about your body at the breakfast table, I don't want to hear it."
They forgot to save a plate for Jesse, but he sits down next to Adam and steals one of the pancakes off his plate.
"Jesse, why are you wearing that fucking apron?" Adam asks.
"I have some horseshoes in the oven." Jesse says calmly and Adam just stares skeptically like he can't decide if Jesse's serious or not. Blake looks like he wants to laugh, but isn't sure if he's supposed to.
"That was a joke." Jesse clarifies, and then Matt laughs.
"James caught my other apron on fire." Jesse says.
"Not on purpose." James says.
"So, where'd you go, Jesse?" Mickey asks.
"You know," Adam says. "You could tell us where you're going ahead of time. What if something happened to you? We wouldn't even know where to start looking."
Jesse stares calmly at Adam. "I didn't know where I was going. That's kind of the entire point, Adam."
Adam looks like he's going to argue about this, but then changes his mind and takes another bite of food instead. "So where'd you go?"
"I was over by Carson City, and I ran into this Numa Paiute scout, and I went up to Oregon with him and met his family and helped them harvest some camas." Jesse says.
Adam makes a face at the rest of the table, a sort of "can you believe he just said that?" Blake looks like he can't believe it. James isn't sure he'd even put it in the top ten weirdest things Jesse's ever said. Of course he ran into a Paiute scout and went to Oregon with them.
Mickey is also unfazed by what Jesse just said. "Did you bring any back? I love camas."
"No." Jesse takes the last pancake off Adam's plate. "There's a shortage up there. A lot of the settlers who moved in were grazing livestock in the camas fields and now they don't think they'll have enough to harvest."
"Oh." Mickey says, disappointed. "Pigs?"
"I don't know. I don't speak Numu, and it's kind of close to Monachi, but that was all I understood."
"Jesse likes to learn Indian languages for fun." Adam explains for Blake's benefit.
"It's not just for fun, sometimes it's useful too." Jesse says.
"Adam, when are we heading out?" Mickey asks.
Adam raises his eyebrows. "Since when are you so excited about heading out on the trail, Mickey?"
"I'm excited about a $1000 reward." Mickey says.
"What?" Adam says disbelievingly. "$1000? What are you talking about?"
"There's a $1000 reward to bring in Justin Timberlake," Mickey says. "How did you not know that?"
"You know I don't pay attention to that stuff," Adam says dismissively, then turns and punches James in the shoulder, again. "James, I bring you a paper every time they come in. I expect you to keep me informed."
"I thought you brought me those because you knew I liked reading them." James says, disappointed.
"That is why I bring you them." Adam admits. "But I also expect you to keep me informed."
"Well, there's a $1000 bounty out for Justin Timberlake." James reports. "There's some other guys out there with bounties on their heads too, if you've decided this is your new career path."
"It'll be nice to have you bringing in some cash for a change." Matt says cheerfully.
"Can we go back for a minute here?" Jesse asks. Jesse doesn't speak loudly, and it always seems like he shouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise, especially against Adam, but Adam always seems to hear what Jesse said, even if he's still talking at the same time. "When did we decide we're riding off after Justin Timberlake? Are we going to discuss this at all?"
"What is there to discuss?" Adam asks. "It's Justin Timberlake. It's $1000. Blake's in too, since Miranda's not coming back until Justin's brought in."
"There's lots of stuff to discuss." Matt says. "Like how you're going to be a terrible bounty hunter. Or how Timberlake has shot at least twenty men. I don't want to get shot. I've got a wife and kids now."
"Okay!" Adam says, smacking his hand on the table. "Matt's opposed to getting shot. Who else wants to weigh in?"
"I do!" Jesse says, and he actually raises his voice, which gets everyone's attention. "Adam, we had an agreement we weren't going to go riding off like this anymore."
Adam's never liked being contradicted, as long as James can remember. It's part of why James enjoys arguing with Adam so much. "Then don't come along." Adam says to Jesse, annoyed. "You want to stay here and pick berries and pet bunnies or whatever the fuck it is you do all day, go for it."
"Yeah." Jesse says. "So if Matt and I are out, you and Mickey and the town drunk are going to bring in Justin Timberlake? I don't think so."
Blake blinks a couple times. "The town drunk? Is that what people call me?"
"No." Adam says. "No one calls you that."
"We just call you Blake." Mickey says. "The drunk part is assumed."
"This is the stupidest thing you've ever done." Jesse says to Adam.
"This is not even close to the stupidest thing he's ever done." Matt says.
"You think everything I do is stupid." Adam counters.
"This is the sort of stupid thing that's going to get someone killed." Jesse says firmly. "James? Did you really think this was a good idea?"
James looks up at Jesse, a little surprised Jesse's calling him out like this. Of course he thinks it's a bad idea, but it's not fair to blame him for it, he wasn't even at Christina's the night Adam and Blake cooked up this little plan. "$1000 is a lot of money." James says evenly. "I think Blake is a liability, though."
"Hey!" Blake says. "Just because I'm the town drunk doesn't mean I can't shoot."
"Can you shoot?" Adam asks skeptically.
"Course I can shoot." Blake says. "James just doesn't want me coming along because he's never liked me."
"That's true." James says. He never has cared much for Blake's influence on Adam.
"To be fair, James doesn't really like anybody." Mickey points out.
"That's true." James says again.
Chapter Four
Matt is usually right about most things, but James doesn't like admitting it. He will admit Matt is right about one thing. Adam will be a terrible bounty hunter. Adam isn't big on strategy or plans or thinking anything through. Adam's more of a shoot first, ask questions later guy. That might work sometimes, but James knows enough about Justin Timberlake to know that approach isn't going to work.
The night before they plan to leave, coyotes kill three of Mickey's chickens. Predictably, Mickey takes it hard, locks himself in one of the bedrooms and refuses to come out.
Also predictably, Adam is annoyed. "Will you go talk to him, please?" Adam says to Jesse in the kitchen. "I want to ride out today."
"He's just upset." Jesse says. "You know how he gets about animals. Leave him alone."
"I don't know why you're in such a hurry, Blake isn't even here yet." James adds. The point he wants to make is Blake is probably still passed out somewhere in town, but Adam's already cranky enough that saying it outright is a bad idea.
"Maybe it's better if he doesn't come along." Adam says, still talking about Mickey. "He's not going to be any help in a gunfight."
"We can't just leave him here." Jesse says.
"Why not?" Adam asks. "Matt and Shawn will still be here. Like he doesn't spend all his time down with the girls at Christina's anyway?"
"Adam." Jesse says reproachfully.
James is sitting on the other side of the table, and can see Mickey standing in the hallway. He clears his throat and tips his head towards the doorway.
"Hey, Mickey." Jesse says, raising his eyebrows at Adam.
"I'm going to go tell Matt's wife to make sure and put the chickens in the barn at night while we're gone." Mickey says, and heads out the door, pointedly ignoring Adam. Jesse and James exchange looks.
"Nice job, Adam." Jesse says sarcastically.
"Fuck off." Adam says, still annoyed. "James, come on."
James shrugs at Jesse and follows Adam down to the barn. Adam hitches his horse to the fence outside and stops before he retrieves his saddle, looking at the chicken feathers scattered all around the barnyard. Based on the sheer number of feathers blowing up against the fence and side of the barn, James figures the entire flock must be bald.
Adam goes back in the barn and comes back out with an empty burlap grain sack and starts picking up the chicken feathers. James knows Adam's only doing it because he feels guilty about saying Mickey should stay behind.
Blake rides in as Adam's finishing up. He's not drunk as far as James can tell, and he supposes that's a start. "What are you doing?" Blake asks Adam.
"Picking up feathers, what the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Adam says, shoving another handful into the sack.
James has just finished saddling Jesse's horse and is getting the pack horse ready when Jesse comes down from the house with the rest of the supplies. Behind him, James can see both Matt and Mickey walking over from Matt's house. Matt has a rifle slung over each shoulder. No one has ever been able to accuse Matt of not being prepared.
"I thought you said you weren't coming, Flynn." Adam says, tying the top of the sack closed.
"I said I didn't want to get shot." Matt corrects. "There's a difference. Besides, you can't go after Timberlake without some guys who can actually shoot."
"I know how to shoot." Jesse says mildly. "I just prefer not to."
"Jesse prefers to stab things." Adam says. Jesse wears a Bowie knife on his belt, and Adam's not exactly joking. James saw Jesse take out a rattlesnake with that knife once. Jesse might be a peacemaker, but he's not above defending himself if he ends up in a corner.
"I figured you just used that to cut up vegetables or something." Blake says to Jesse.
"Knives are more efficient." Jesse says.
"I'll tell you what's efficient." Matt announces. "Dynamite is efficient."
Adam snorts. "Matt loves a good explosion."
It's not like they haven't spent any time on the trail before, and it only takes a couple hours before they fall back into the usual routine. Even the addition of Blake doesn't make a difference. He sticks to the middle of the group with Mickey and Matt and the packhorse. Jesse rides off ahead on his own, and it takes Adam about an hour to get bored and fidgety.
"Hey." Adam points up above them. "Look, an eagle."
James squints up at it. There's no way it's an eagle, it's a hawk. A big one, but still a hawk. "That's a hawk." James corrects.
Arguing over whether it's an eagle or a hawk keeps Adam and James occupied for the next two hours of riding. Neither of them really cares what the bird was, although a part of James knows he was right and wishes Adam would just acknowledge it, but arguing is how they've always killed time. It's got them through a war, riding across the better part of the country, numerous cattle drives, and plenty of winter nights when James was out of reading material.
After the seventh or eighth time Adam says, "There's no fucking way, that bird was huge! No way it was a hawk!" Mickey pulls out his flask and takes a drink before passing it to Blake. "They're going to do this the entire way. It's easier this way, trust me."
Blake doesn't have to be told twice. He takes a drink.
"Give me some too." Matt says. "Before I shoot both of them."
Jesse's still gone when they stop to make camp for the night, and Matt does a terrible job of cooking dinner over a campfire. James can hear Blake asking Matt about Jesse's scouting abilities, but he doesn't really listen, since Adam picks that moment to argue with James over where they should go tomorrow. Adam's terrible at navigating and he knows it, but he doesn't let that stop him from arguing with James every time.
"So he's like an advance scout." Blake is saying when Adam and James come back over to the fire.
"Advance scout, butterfly chaser, whatever." Matt says, lifting the pan of cornbread off the fire as it begins to smoke.
"Look." Adam says firmly. "Jesse's a free spirit. You can't clip his wings."
"Well, I wish he'd fly back in time to cook dinner." Matt says, knocking the semi-burned cornbread out of the pan. "I don't think this is edible."
"Give it to James." Adam says. "He'll eat anything."
It's not the worst thing James has ever eaten, but it's not what he would call good either. "It's pretty bad." He confirms after taking a bite. Then he takes a second bite, because it's not like they're going to get anything else to eat.
"Well, you're still eating it, so how bad can it be?" Blake reasons. James just shrugs. He's not going to argue with Blake about cornbread.
They're sitting around the fire, listening to Blake's story about the time Miranda single-handedly broke up a bar fight in San Antonio when James hears someone approaching their camp. His rifle is up and pointed towards the noise, mostly out of muscle memory than any real legitimate concern, and then Jesse steps in close enough to be visible in the fire light.
"Honestly, James," Jesse says, pushing the rifle barrel to the side, away from his head. "I even signaled. Couldn't you tell that was my bird call?"
This is the funniest thing Adam's ever heard anyone say. "Yeah, James!" He says when he's stopped laughing hard enough to be able to speak. "Couldn't you tell?"
James frowns and sets his rifle back down.
"Little jumpy tonight, Jimmy?" Adam adds. James briefly considers shooting Adam just to shut him up. The thing is, wounded Adam would just be more annoying. Some times, the only thing keeping James from shooting Adam is the knowledge that Adam will never, ever let him forget it.
"Someone has to pay attention," he says instead.
"Picked you some greens." Jesse says to Mickey, handing him the woven half-basket half-bag he usually carries on his saddle instead of a regular pannier bag. James doesn't remember where the baskets came from, but it's a safe bet to assume Jesse picked them up during one of the times he ended up spending two weeks with whatever Indian tribe he ran across.
"Thanks, man." Mickey tries to tip the basket close enough to the fire to be able to see inside. "What are these? They're not going to kill me, are they?"
"No." Jesse says. "I could though, if I wanted to. You guys would have no idea."
"I tell myself that every day." Mickey says solemnly. "Jesse could kill me if wanted to."
This sends Adam off into another fit of laughter. James hadn't really been paying attention, but Adam's probably more drunk than he should be.
"Hey, remember that time you hit me in the face with the butt of your rifle?" Matt asks Jesse.
"Yeah." Jesse says. "That was an accident though."
"I know." Matt says. "If it had been on purpose, you totally would have killed me."
"That's exactly my point." Mickey says. "Don't let him fool you."
Part Two Crossposted from Dreamwidth. The DW entry has
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