Fancy That | Part Three
“I’m guessin’ there’s a story behind that stage name of yours.”
Jensen lifts his gaze from the tablecloth’s fine stitching. Their dinner plates have been removed, not a morsel left on either one.
“The Texas Rose?”
“You mentioned coming from Texas, but I’m thinking there’s more to it than that,” Jared says. Like Jensen, he cleaned himself up a bit before meeting Jensen in the hotel lobby. He must’ve gone to the bathhouse again, because he hadn’t come back to the room where Jensen used cool water to remove the dust and sweat from his face, throat, and shoulders. The blue shirt Jared’s wearing looks new-another purchase with his winnings, no doubt-and his hair’s been combed smooth.
Jensen’s mind wanders back to a time before he hit the road with Morgan and Danneel. To the spicy heat and sticky humidity of nights in New Orleans.
“When I was in New Orleans,” Jensen begins, Jared leaning his elbows on the table, “there was a performer I used to watch who called himself Jasmine.”
“Him?”
Jensen nods. “He was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. When he-Nathan-danced on stage, it was like a dream, and his costumes were flawless. I thought he was a woman at first,” Jensen recalls fondly. “Jasmine was inspiring. The women at the broth-”
He stops. This is something he hasn’t told Jared yet. But Jared encourages him to continue with soft words.
“It’s okay, Jensen.”
“I never-it wasn’t like that. I just stayed there.”
Jared’s hand covers Jensen’s. “I ain’t judging. Your life is your own.”
“But I want you to know,” Jensen says. “I earned my keep helping the Madam with whatever she needed. Tending bar, setting up the stage…” He needs a deep breath to steady himself. Jared’s eyes remain gentle, understanding. “That’s where I met Danneel. She and the other women found it entertaining to ‘pretty me up’ when they were through working for the night. I didn’t exactly mind, you know?”
Most of the other diners have gone, retiring to their rooms or seeking further entertainment in one of the saloons. Two glasses of wine, compliments of the hotel, sit untouched on the table between them, and the lamps around the room have been dimmed to create an intimate atmosphere. Jensen discovers that, for once, he’s eager to share this part of his past.
“Nathan saw the way I enjoyed the makeup, the costumes, the pageantry,” Jensen recalls, “and when the shows were over for the night, he’d teach me how to move, how to dance, how to dress.”
“That’s where all this”-Jared circles his finger in mid-air-“came from?”
Jensen shakes his head, a fond smile shaping his lips. “I’d known what I wanted for a long time, who I was. Nathan simply helped me do it well,” Jensen explains. “He came up with the name Texas Rose.” The memory is sweet like the sugared berry tart Jared ordered after dinner. The gunslinger has an undeniable sweet tooth like Danneel; he happily polished off the dessert after Jensen satisfied himself with a few small bites.
“By then I would join him on stage, and I needed a name to give the crowd. Of course Danneel had to mention it to J.D. as soon as he came back to New Orleans, and he thought it was perfect.”
“It’s a good one,” Jared agrees, tone low and warm, “but I prefer Jensen.”
There’s no fan for Jensen to hide behind; his sudden flush is obvious to the man across the table. Jared’s simple words are flattery, but they’re also honest. Jensen’s ego needs the former, but his heart desires the later.
Fortunately Jared rescues him from his discomfort. “You’ve got a good thing going,” he tells Jensen. “You, Morgan, and Danneel, traveling across the West.”
“They’re my family,” Jensen says, an unexpected weight settling on his shoulders, “but that doesn’t mean there’s not something else out there for me.”
He thinks Jared might have something to say, but he remains quiet, finger tapping the bottom of his wine glass as if he’s contemplating emptying the entire thing in one go.
“What about you?” Jensen asks. He’s been waiting for a chance to prod Jared about his plans once the troupe leaves town. “Is there something else out there?”
The question connects, and Jared draws his hands back into his lap. “Not really sure what you’re asking me, Jensen.”
This is delicate, but thanks to his high-heeled boots, Jensen has learned to step carefully.
“You don’t seem to have a great love for bounty hunting.”
“The day I do is the day I give it up,” Jared declares.
“Ever thought about doing something else?”
“Jensen-”
“Ranches hire on gun-hands all the time,” Jensen continues, “or you could always become a lawman.”
Apparently Jared finds that funny; that tempting smirk is back when he says, “The law doesn’t want me.”
Jensen sweeps his hair behind his shoulder and tries to control the level of his voice. “You know what I’m saying, Jared. Don’t you want to live a different life?”
Jared’s expression shifts into something Jensen’s never seen before. Lead in his eyes, cheeks hot like fire-warmed iron. “Yeah, I’d like a different life. One where my big brother and his wife weren’t gunned down by a posse of horse thieves-where I could’ve grown up never coming home to the sight of the only family I had left in the world lying on the ground with bullet holes in their chest.”
Jensen gasps, eyes burning. “Jared-I…”
But Jared doesn’t stop. It’s as if he’s unable to see or hear Jensen, trapped in a tragic memory. “That life was stolen from me. There’s no getting it back. Wouldn’t deserve it even if I could.”
Before Jensen can speak up and try to console him, Jared pushes back from the table and strides out of the dining room. There’s no one left to disturb, and since their bill’s already been settled, Jensen stands and rushes after the gunslinger just in time to see him disappear up the main staircase.
~~~
Jensen knocks softly, but doesn’t wait before opening the door to his hotel room, knowing there’s nowhere else Jared could’ve gone. He has no idea what to expect-for all he knows, Jared could be in a rage, tearing down the curtains or-but the gunslinger is sitting on the bed, arms limp at his sides. He doesn’t look up when Jensen’s heels click across the hardwood.
“I never meant to upset you,” Jensen says, leaving a hand-span between them when he sits on the bed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Jared sighs. “I knew what you were gettin’ at. I shouldn’t’ve gotten angry.”
Without saying the word sorry, Jensen knows his apology has been accepted and returned. Jared moves his arm and curls his fingers through Jensen’s, a nearly unnoticeable shudder coursing through his body as he takes a deep breath. Preparing himself for what Jensen has to ask.
“What happened to your brother?”
“I was working in town,” Jared begins. The words sound dry, nearly cracked. This is not a story told often, if ever. “Got an apprenticeship with the town’s livestock doctor so that I could help my brother out. He’d just gotten married and built a new house on the land our parents left us.
“The sheriff never told anyone about the horse thieves that came through the next town over. Just thought they’d pass through and leave our town alone, but…”
Jensen allows him a moment of quiet; they both need to regain their composure.
Then softer, a pained whisper from an injured man: “I should’ve been there that day. I was already pretty good with a gun back then-I could’ve protected them.”
Knowing better than to placate, Jensen squeezes Jared’s fingers, grateful he removed his gloves before dinner. He loves the texture of Jared’s skin, the calluses on his gun-hand and the softer skin just below his wrist. A contrast, like the man himself.
Jared doesn’t need to suffer through the rest of his retelling, but there’s still one thing Jensen needs to know.
“Those were the men you killed.”
Jared nods. “Found out where they were selling the horses and I snuck in. I could’ve told the Sheriff, watched ‘em hang, but I couldn’t help seeing my brother on the ground.”
“And you’ve killed men since.”
“News of what I’d done caught and spread like a wildfire,” Jared tells him, “and I wasn’t hiding. Some folks called me a hero. I’d earned myself a reputation overnight, and once that happened…”
“Others came,” Jensen finishes, “looking to break it.”
“I wasn’t always the quickest draw, but I always had the better aim. That’s why I’m still here.”
Jared’s skill is unquestionable; Jensen was hoping that his victory (and the purse that came with it) would be enough to lead him away from his dangerous way of life.
“I’m grateful you’re still here,” Jensen says, shifting closer. “But you don’t have to keep doing this. I’m sure there’s something else out there for you. Maybe not a job, but you have your winnings. You could settle somewhere…buy a little peace and quiet.”
Jared’s stare is deep and unreadable, like he’s got a puzzle to solve and no idea where to begin. Jensen begins to feel awkward, cheeks getting warm, when Jared finally sighs. “I meant what I said down there…I don’t deserve the peace you’re talking about. I failed to protect my only family. All I’m good for is bringing in bounties and taking down anyone who calls me out.”
“That’s not true,” Jensen insists, speaking without thinking. “What if you weren’t alone?”
“Jensen-”
“What if I wanted to leave the troupe, stay behind with you?”
Jared’s up and pacing before Jensen can stop him. “No, Jensen, that’s not-you shouldn’t want that. I’m not the kind of man who settles down.”
Jensen sags, his shoulders slumping forward. The boning in his corset begins to hurt his ribs. “I’m not ready to lose you,” he whispers.
As if he’s realized Jensen is no longer at his side, Jared rushes back to the bed, dropping hard onto his knees. Jensen doesn’t want to look up, but he has to. Jared’s gaze is desperate.
“I’m a selfish man,” Jared says, “but I can’t take you away from your family. You belong with them, Jensen-you love them.”
“Jared, I-”
It’s madness, but Jensen almost says it. For better or worse, Jared halts the confession with a hand on Jensen’s knee.
“I know.” Jensen watches Jared scramble for the right words, praying that whatever Jared says next won’t break his heart. “Can we go back?” Jared asks. “I want one more night with you, and I don’t want either of us to worry about tomorrow. Can we do that, Jensen?”
Within his chest, Jensen feels his heart turn to glass. He steels himself before it can shatter and puncture the hope he’s been nurturing. Jared’s expression is so intensely earnest that Jensen can’t bring himself to refuse. He still has trouble getting the words past his throat though.
“Of course,” he says, aware that his grin wouldn’t fool anyone. “I want that, too.” But right now Jensen can’t stay in this room-their room-any longer. The weight of the emotion would crush him, disappointment heaviest of all. “Why don’t we head down to the saloon?” he suggests, rising to his feet and moving out of Jared’s reach. “I know most of the troupe will be celebrating.”
Jared appears unsettled as well, but he goes along. “I wouldn’t mind finding Charlie and buying that girl a drink.”
To break the tension, Jensen hardens himself even further and steps into Jared’s embrace once more, trying not to consider the way their bodies are so well-suited to one another.
“I promise to show you a good time, cowboy.”
As he hopes, Jared immediately warms to the flirtatious tone. Jensen takes a deep breath; he can do this.
~~~
Jensen struts through the saloon as if he owns it, parting crowds with a single glance. His heels click on the worn floorboards, his bare shoulders golden under the glow of the oil lamps. It’s easy to fall back on his skills, the routine well-rehearsed in many towns before this one.
They’ve made their money-J.D. was right about the take-and the members of the troupe are free to pursue their own diversions. There are times when Jensen prefers to spend his last night at camp, listening to everyone’s stories and sharing in the success, but he finds out that Morgan asked Misha to move the caravan closer to town so that everyone had the chance to revel with the townsfolk.
With nothing left to promote, Jensen is free to dote on whomever he chooses rather than spreading his favor around. And he only has eyes for one man.
Despite what happened after dinner, Jared remains the center of Jensen’s attention. He still desperately wants the gunslinger, and Jared must feel the same way, because hardly a moment passes when he’s not fixated on the movement of Jensen’s lips or the figure he cuts in his red and black corset.
Eventually, with Jensen’s encouragement, Jared joins a poker game at one of the tables in the back of the saloon. It serves as a distraction for both of them. Jared’s just been dealt another hand when Jensen returns to the poker table from the bar. Jared beckons Jensen with a look over the tops of his cards, an empty glass waiting on the table along with his money. Jensen drapes his upper body over Jared’s shoulder, lightly trailing his fingers across the back of Jared’s neck, compelled to touch him even though it burns with the dual flames of pain and passion.
Pouring two fingers from the saloon’s best bottle of whiskey into Jared’s glass, Jensen casts his gaze around the table. Besides Jared, there are three richly appointed men (Jensen recognizes one as the banker and another from the large wagers he placed during the competitions) and a woman with ivory hair, pink cheeks, and a finely tailored dress of olive-colored satin that Jensen envies.
Struck by an idea, Jensen brings the bottle up to his mouth, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. He wraps his plush lips around the rim and swallows. The whiskey warms him from the inside out, but not nearly as much as the intensity of Jared’s stare.
Pleased with his little act, Jensen places the bottle back on the table, but Jared snags him by the wrist before he can lean away. The gunslinger tugs him forward in full view of the other players, tasting the malt on his lips before pressing his tongue inside Jensen’s mouth and sweeping away all traces of whiskey.
“Tastes better this way,” Jared mutters, instantly setting fire to Jensen’s skin. His thumb rests over Jensen’s throat, massaging. The thrill of being touched this way in public only adds to his arousal.
“Then maybe I’ll let you do it again,” Jensen tells him, “but for now, you’ve got some money to win.”
The room darkens as the last rays of sunshine bleed out of the landscape. Sweet smoke rises to circle above the patrons, the scent of clove and tobacco released with every drag from the expensive cigars. Morgan and Danneel are playing in another game at the table behind Jensen, smiling as they outplay the men sitting around their table. This is foreplay for the two of them; Jensen has no doubt they’ll both end up in J.D.’s hotel room come closing time.
Hopefully J.D.’s been getting plenty of rest, because Danneel won’t let him catch a wink tonight. Especially if she keeps winning.
Danneel’s poker style is flashy-she makes each game into a performance. Flirting with the men, giggling when someone pays her a compliment, trailing her fingers along her bustline. Keeping the other players blind to her mastery until she’s already won the hand. Jared’s style is much different. He’s stoic and quiet, expression giving nothing away. Even Jensen has a hard time reading his tells, but he’s benefitting from extra experience.
Jared wins enough to put him up for the evening, but it’s clear he’s losing interest in the game. Jensen plays no small part in his distraction, hovering at Jared’s shoulder and breathing strategy into his ear. He enjoys helping Jared win a little extra, but he wouldn’t mind if Jared threw down his cards right now (he’s holding a pair of threes, but the stately woman clearly has a better hand) and dragged him out of the saloon.
It’s a good thing Jensen knows how to hurry Jared along. If all he has is one more night, then Jensen intends to make the most of it.
“I think you should fold,” Jensen whispers, words meant only for Jared.
“Still got a full glass of whiskey.”
“True, but your cards are worth nothing, and I’ve got an aching need to see that cock of yours again.”
Jared looks up, the game forgotten. Hunger fills his expression, irises plunged into darkness as arousal brings a flush to his cheeks. Jensen smirks.
No one at the table appears surprised when Jared folds, but the woman in the green dress smiles behind her cards as Jared stands and pulls Jensen into his arms.
“Grab the bottle,” Jared tells him, lining his pocket with his winnings.
Jensen obliges, never losing his grip on Jared’s hand as they dance through the crowd, laughing as they stumble through the batwing doors and onto the street. This reprieve allowed Jensen to clear his head, and he’s keen to have Jared behind closed doors again. The hotel’s only a few steps away, but Jensen’s heart is already racing; he wasn’t lying when he said he had an aching need-his body’s been yearning for this all day, forced to survive on small scraps.
He has no idea what tomorrow will bring, but there’s plenty of time between now and sunrise. Jensen doesn’t plan to waste a single breath.
~~~
“Thought this bed was gonna give out on us for a minute,” Jensen pants. He eases himself away from Jared’s chest, turning around and falling back onto the pillows.
“Wouldn’t have stopped me,” Jared says, braced above him and equally breathless. His skin is tacky where Jensen strokes him from elbow to shoulder.
“Good to know.”
Jared nuzzles briefly into the crook of Jensen’s neck before rolling his large body to the side, fresh air soothing fevered skin. Jensen draws a deep breath, the wildfire that had consumed him beginning to recede.
He and Jared barely made it into the room before they began tearing at one another’s clothing. Patience was abandoned as they tore through the room tipping over furniture and crowding against the walls while they kissed their inhibitions away. The only thing treated with care was Jensen’s wig; Jared slipped his fingers through the silky tresses before helping Jensen remove the piece and set it aside.
They sparred for dominance on the bed, neither entirely disappointed if they didn’t get their way. Jensen demonstrated his ability to leave a man hard and begging simply by stimulating Jared’s nipples. Tonguing, biting, sucking-he left Jared’s chest red and marked before the gunslinger flipped their positions and rutted against Jensen’s hip, cock leaking.
Pinning Jensen’s wrists to the quilt with one hand, Jared proceeded to explore on his own for a bit, lips seeking out goldmines of bliss. Jensen was writhing long before Jared swung lower and treated his balls to a slow, sensual soak in Jared’s mouth.
Never in his wildest imaginings did Jensen think that he’d find such an enthusiastic lover. Jared might not possess the experience, but once he set his mind to something, there was no reining him in.
They’d each spent themselves once by the time Jared eased his cock into Jensen. Face to face, Jensen saw every twitch of pleasure in Jared’s expression and he begged for more without saying a word. And Jared responded, driving him to the brink before he got the devil’s gleam in his eye. That’s when he would pull out, leaving Jensen empty and tender. Jensen clawed at his back, short nails furrowing into thick muscle, until Jared arranged them in a new position, each one better than the last.
Bouncing on Jared’s lap while they defiled one of the brocade chairs by the unused fireplace. Legs in the air, displaying his flexibility, as Jared fucked into him from the end of the bed. On their knees, Jared pressed up tight behind him, not a single whisper of space left between them.
By the time Jared allowed him to come, Jensen’s body felt like a wet rag, barely able to hold himself against the headboard while Jared fucked him. His last thrusts were brutal and perfect, his aim as flawless as it had been during the shooting competition. It felt like Jared was breaking him apart and holding him together at the same time.
When Jared came, it was with his arms around Jensen’s chest, tongue speaking mindless words of affection into his ear. Jensen tried to hang onto those words, commit them to memory in case this never happened again, but he couldn’t catch them in time.
Now that their bodies are spent, Jared and Jensen lie next to one another and listen to their breathing settle into normal rhythms. Thoughts that were held at bay by the onslaught of their combined passion begin to creep back into Jensen’s mind.
“I can hear you thinkin’ from here,” Jared says. “Guess I didn’t wear you out.”
“Trust me, you did.” Jensen tilts his head to the side, watches a slow smile spread across Jared’s face. “Just thinking about doing it again.”
Jared’s chest rumbles with quiet laughter. “Sounds ambitious. No need to wake me up when you’re ready to go at it again. Just hop on,” he says, waving a hand over his slick but soft cock.
“Hop on?” Jensen gasps, feigning outrage. He uses his elbow to dig at Jared’s side, arms dueling on the bedspread. “For that, I’ll take care of myself and I won’t wake you up.”
Jared retaliates, blanketing Jensen with his heavy body. They tussle and roll, no real intent behind their contest; they’ve both extended themselves to the limits of their strength.
Jensen is the first to yawn, rubbing his cheek on Jared’s chest over the very skin he’d sucked earlier.
“I was thinking…”
“Thought we decided against thinking for the rest of the night,” Jensen teases, shifting closer. He means it-the last thing he wants to do is reopen the wounds their earlier clash had caused.
Jared’s hand makes long sweeps up and down Jensen’s back, appreciating the true curve of his body. The imprints from his corset have long faded from his skin. “You enjoy that so much,” he says, “I might need you to return the favor someday.”
Jensen is too relaxed; the meaning of Jared’s words doesn’t hit him for a few minutes. “Take you? That’s not…I don’t-”
“Shame,” Jared says quietly. “Bet you’d be pretty good at it.”
“I’ve done it,” Jensen tells him. “But that’s not usually…” he trails off, unwilling to bring memories of other men into this bed.
“Not interested then?”
“Jared, I-” When he looks up, Jared is still smiling.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Jared says. “Just know that I’m not opposed to the idea so long as it’s you doing the taking.”
Speechless, Jensen lets that sink in. Jared doesn’t appear to be as bothered, relaxing into the peaceful night. The revelrous sounds from the street outside have long since died-the entire town recovering from the excitement and getting back to their ordinary lives.
And somehow Jared expects Jensen to do the same thing.
“You said someday.”
“Hmm?”
Jensen leans up on one elbow, staring down. Refusing to get his hopes up, knowing where that path leads. It takes Jared’s tired mind a moment to catch on.
“Figured you’d be heading West,” he says, “so I know where you might be. Our paths might cross again someday.”
Jensen reels. “You’re leaving it to chance?”
“I’ve been lucky so far.”
“Jared-”
The hurt manifests as a physical ache in Jensen’s chest. Jared can’t raise the possibility of a future that may never come-their separation will be difficult enough without the lonely despair that comes from clinging to hope.
“I don’t want to let you go,” Jared quietly admits, “but I-I can’t settle down just yet, and I don’t want you to have to live my life. You deserve more than that.”
Jensen has no chance to react before his lips are claimed, his mouth possessed by Jared’s sweeping tongue, melting whatever response he could’ve mustered. Jensen feels the kiss in every part of his body: his toes are tingling, his stomach is performing somersaults, and his fingers yearn to hang onto Jared and hold fast. He is consumed; it’s the kind of kiss that will imprint itself onto Jensen’s soul-the one to which he’ll compare every other kiss. And when it’s over, Jensen feels hollow as if Jared has taken everything meaningful from him and kept it. There’s no one Jensen would rather lose himself to.
Jared’s voice is wrecked. “Do you want me to leave right now?”
Jensen almost says yes, but in spite of the heartache he can’t imagine falling asleep without Jared beside him: his face the last thing Jensen will see. However…
“It might be easier if you’re gone by the time I wake up.”
Jared nods and lies back in silence. Jensen is compelled to stay awake, watching Jared drift off, grateful to have these last, tranquil moments. All of it will end come morning when Jensen has no choice but to move on with J.D., Danneel, and the rest of the troupe. Even if Jared remains in this town for a while, Jensen can’t stay. He possesses no skills beyond the act he’s perfected, no way to provide for himself. There’s nothing else he can use to prove to Jared that he’s worthy of a chance.
Jensen’s subconscious is kind to him when he can no longer keep his eyes open. He doesn’t dream of Jared or loneliness. Instead, his mind carries him to the Pacific Ocean, cool water lapping at his feet and sun shining on his bare shoulders. If he pictures a long shadow next to his on the sand, Jensen assures himself that it’s only a trick his mind is playing.
He holds onto that dream for as long as he can, tries to bring the sensations all the way back to wakefulness, but inevitably it all fades away, lost to the night.
Though he knows it’s morning by the warm texture of the light on his face, Jensen’s eyes remain closed. Jared is gone; the gunslinger’s too good of a man to ignore Jensen’s final request. But for a few bittersweet moments, Jensen pretends.
~~~
The stagecoach stutters over a deep groove in the earth, their driver calling back so that the other wagons can avoid hitting the furrow. Jensen is thrown out of his stupor as his shoulder knocks into the side of the coach. Danneel glances over, but says nothing. Beside her, Morgan shifts the open ledger on his lap, squinting as he attempts to make sense of Sheppard’s calculations.
The sun has made it fully over the horizon, warm rays sneaking through the wide braches of the oak trees that line the small grove they’re rolling through, spilling soft green light on Jensen’s face. His eyelids are heavy and sluggish-too many concerns and too little sleep-and he doesn’t fight their pull as he tilts his chin back and tries to forget about what he left behind.
Jensen’s legs itch beneath the trousers he’s wearing, shoulders tense despite the soft cotton of his shirt. Inspiration abandoned him this morning; he couldn’t even bring himself to don one of his casual dresses. His wig is safely packed away with the rest of his belongings, and his face is free of make-up. Even Danneel is dressed for a day on the road, her hair unbound and shirt collar open down to her chest allowing the cool morning breeze to touch her skin.
Earlier, the two of them had gathered their things from the hotel room without much in the way of exuberance or converation. Jensen could tell Danneel wanted to ask about Jared, but for the sake of his brittle state, she withheld her comments. He hadn’t been able to muster any joy or anticipation for moving onto the next town, something in which he usually took great pleasure.
The temperature in the coach begins to rise as the caravan makes its way out of the grove and onto the plain. Jensen comes out of his light doze-not nearly refreshing enough-to the dull clomps of hooves passing by, Stephen’s voice growing faint as he and another rider gallop towards the front of the caravan.
“Must’ve spotted something up ahead,” J.D. muses. Sounds like he didn’t get much in the way of sleep either-he and Danneel must’ve had one hell of a night.
Any other time, the sounds of the troupe would be a balm to the weariness left over after an eventful exhibition, but Jensen wishes he could wake up all over again; only this time, he would open his eyes and find Jared lying next to him. Staring at Jensen with those summer-sky eyes, sleepy smile on his face.
Jensen opens his eyes, unable to cope with his imaginings. Sitting across from him, Danneel attempts to smile, but her mood is subdued, too; Jensen’s sorrow is contagious. But she’s nothing if not determined.
“You wanted to stay with him, didn’t you?”
It’s no use ignoring her in these close confines. Danneel knows exactly how to needle and pester until he caves. Doesn’t mean he wants J.D. here for the conversation.
“Danni…”
J.D. speaks up. “Talking about the damn gunslinger that cost me so much money?”
“His name’s Jared, remember?” Danneel supplies before Jensen can tell both of them to drop the subject. “And if Sheppard was telling the truth, you made out just fine, sugar.”
“I gather he was more than just a distraction, then,” J.D. says. He looks at Danneel, something unspoken passing between them, leaving Jensen to wonder just how much his best friend has shared with their boss. “Did he ask you to stay?”
Jensen shakes his head. The question is like rubbing salt in a fresh wound.
J.D. turns back to his ledger. “It’s best not to think on it anymore,” he tells Jensen. “And if Jared figures that life on his own is better than taking-”
At first, Jensen doesn’t understand why J.D. cuts himself off, but then he hears a gunshot pierce the morning calm. It echoes across the land and comes back to knock Jensen’s heart into beating again.
“What the hell?” J.D. moves so fast, the stagecoach rocks from side to side. He crouches by the window, and beyond him there’s a flurry of shouts and movement, Ty’s voice ringing out the loudest.
“Maybe they’re trying to scare off a rattlesnake,” Danneel says, voice shaking. But Jensen knows the sound of panic when he hears it.
His blood turns to ice at the sound of hoof-beats-at least half a dozen riders-thundering towards Morgan’s caravan. All Jensen sees through the windows are their own men taking cover, a flash of a dark coat as a horse gallops by.
“J.D?”
“Stay down,” J.D. hisses, waving his two beauties away from the windows. “Keep outta sight!”
More shots now, followed quickly by the dull impact of lead on dry, packed soil. Poor aim, or intentional warning shots? Jensen’s unable to make out what’s being shouted-his ears are beginning to ring like a church bell-but the expression on J.D.’s face says it all.
Trouble’s just come calling.
An unfamiliar voice roars through the standoff. “Where’s the boss at?”
Jensen quickly looks over at his old friend whose shoulders are tense, hard like an iron rail; he’s got one hand on the shiny silver piece holstered at his hip. J.D. pushes the coach door out, nothing but grit in his expression, and steps down in spite of Danneel whispering and reaching out for the back of his shirt.
“I’m the man you’re looking for.”
Danneel and Jensen scramble towards the door at the same time. The sight beyond turns Jensen’s knees to jelly, and he gasps before he remembers to slap a hand over his mouth.
Four men on horseback have their guns leveled at J.D., keeping anyone else from the troupe in their sights. Two other bandits on foot are wielding shotguns, one trained on the stagecoach driver. With a sinking feeling, Jensen imagines that Stephen, Ty, and Cain are being held up as well somewhere along the caravan.
One of the men, no doubt their leader, waves his pistol at the door of the coach. “Anyone else in there with ya?” His teeth are yellowed from spending too much time chewing on the end of a cigar, voice rough and cutting like a landslide. His clothes are old and plain, frayed at the seams and covered in dust, but the single-barreled mare’s leg in his hand appears brand new, the bullets in his belt catching the light. With the sun in his eyes, Jensen can’t be sure, but he thinks he might’ve seen this man in one of the saloons they’d just visited.
“I’d sure feel a lot better if’n we were all out here, face to face!”
That leaves no time for Jensen or Danneel to grab the hidden pistol from under the bench seat. Swallowing the nerves as best he can, Jensen steps out first, hands up, Danneel coming out behind him. They stand on either side of J.D., eyes forward. Jensen felt helpless in the coach, but now that he’s outside facing the threat without the comfort of a gun in his hand, he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Much better,” the bandit drawls, tipping his hat up. “She’s a sight for sore eyes, ain’t she, fellas?”
The men chuckle, the sound rising and falling like cicadas coming out at night. Of course they would focus on Danneel-probably haven’t seen a woman like her in their entire lives, because in spite of her traveling clothes, there’s no disguising her beauty-and Jensen wonders if that kind of distraction might prove useful.
“What do you want?” J.D. challenges.
“I think it’s pretty obvious,” the bandit replies, mouth twisting into a nasty leer. “I figure y’all made out pretty good in that town back there-thought you might be willing to share all that money. If not, well…” He looks around at his men, each more rugged than the last. A posse that roams and plunders, and Morgan’s troupe has the misfortune of being their latest target. “…we’ll just kill y’all and take it anyway.”
J.D. stands his ground, unflinching. This is hardly the first time he’s come under attack-Jensen’s been around for more than one stick-up since they set out-but this feels different. A larger band of thieves, for one, and J.D.’s troupe is tired and worn down from a long stay in town.
“We don’t want any trouble,” J.D. tells them, “you’re welcome to the money”-his voice drops to a more threatening octave-“but then you’d best be on your way.”
The leader pretends to consider his offer. “Or we could stay a while,” he says. “Y’all were pretty entertaining back in town. Maybe we want our own show.”
It’s Danneel who fires back. “Wouldn’t mind showing you how well we can shoot.”
Jensen admires her fire, but unfortunately that draws the bandit’s attention back to her, his yellowed smile growing wide. Watching the way Danneel’s gaze narrows, Jensen wonders if he needs to hold her back.
“Bet you can do all sorts of things, sweetheart,” he sneers, the men behind him snickering. “Why don’t you come over here?”
“Wait a min-”
The bandit swings his gun back around, sights set on J.D.’s forehead. “Keep your mouth shut, boss-man! Or I’ll start shooting. I’ve got men in the bluffs all around-you won’t make it one step before one of ‘em puts you down.”
Jensen’s knees threaten to give out. He knows these men aren’t going to leave them be even if J.D. hands over every last cent. Somewhere along the caravan, he pictures Sheppard clinging tight to their money. His glare would unnerve even the stoutest of men, but it’s no match for more than a dozen guns.
Danneel steps forward; J.D. twitches like he’s contemplating throwing himself in front of her. The leader dismounts and walks up to her, filthy fingers trailing down her arm where she’s rolled up her sleeves. A sudden sickness overtakes Jensen. Deep breaths become impossible, and the sourness rises until it hits the back of his throat. His entire body goes numb when one of the men holding a shotgun turns his eyes on Jensen, his wide, gaping smile missing more than a few teeth.
“Hey, Poplar,” the man says, addressing the man in charge, “got another pretty one back there.”
Poplar looks at Jensen and shrugs. “Not quite to my taste, but you’re welcome to him.”
The man barely takes a step before J.D. leaps forward. “Don’t you dare!” Within a blink, his fist connects with the bandit’s jaw, the snap of bone audible. The posse surges forward, guns waving and tempers flaring.
In the chaos, Jensen hears Poplar shouting. “You’re gonna pay for that, boss-man! Take him down!”
Time stops as Jensen waits for the shot, but it never comes. Poplar’s men cease their charge and look around-if Poplar had men in the bluffs, something’s gone wrong. The man at J.D.’s feet begins shuffling back towards his fellow bandits like a snake slithering out of the sun.
Poplar’s eyes are wild. He brandishes his gun over his head and shouts to his men. “Someone shoot the bastard! Then we’ll take his money!” When he drops his arm, his gun is pointed straight past Morgan’s shoulder.
Directly at Jensen’s head.
“This one’ll look even prettier with a hole in his face,” he says, and Jensen can only watch as Poplar’s hand tenses, finger on the trigger.
A shot rings out, and the pistol falls from Poplar’s hand. The bandit curls in on himself, mouth open in a silent scream of pure agony, before he collapses to his knees and drops dead in the dirt. A gush of blood under his belly turns the grass from sun-scalded brown to sticky red.
Everyone freezes for a moment as the echo of that single shot comes back. As soon as it hits, mayhem returns. Poplar’s men begin to scramble, their bullets shooting holes in the clouds. Danneel spins around and sends a swift kick into the groin of the man behind her-Jensen watched her disarm bigger men on a weekly basis down in New Orleans-and he sinks faster than a rock in a river. J.D. pulls his gun and takes out two men on horseback. Their mounts whinny in distress before wheeling away and galloping off, wounded riders sagging in their saddles.
More bullets zip in out of nowhere and find their mark in the shoulders and knees of Poplar’s men. Now that their leader is dead, several turn tail and ride off into the bluffs. J.D. yanks Jensen and Danneel behind their stagecoach as Ty and Stephen emerge and take out the remaining bandits. Before long, only three are left. When they discover that they’re now outnumbered, they drop their guns and surrender.
J.D. is the first to stand, and he helps Danneel to her feet.
“What the hell happened?” Stephen shouts, running towards them. He and Ty hustle to disarm the remaining thieves, stripping them of their ammunition and knives, and forcing them to their knees. The wounded bandits are treated similarly, dragged over to sit with their comrades.
J.D. shakes his head. “Seems like someone was looking out for us.”
“I think I know who it was,” Danneel says in wonderment, staring over Jensen’s shoulder and into the morning sun at a dark figure standing atop the nearest bluff alongside a horse. Jensen assumes that it’s another bandit until he sees the cavalry hat pulled low over the man’s prominent brow and the long, lean shadow he casts.
He gasps. “Jared?”
The gunslinger walks towards the caravan as he slides his Colt back into his holster. Jensen can’t believe it-he simply can’t. But he blinks away the spots of light obscuring his vision and sees Jared leading a sturdy, brown gelding and smiling like he’s just walked out of Jensen’s dreams.
Jensen stands and prays his legs don’t give out. He feels bare despite his plain clothing-Jared’s never seen him like this, and he wouldn’t survive if Jared found him unappealing now.
“What are you doing here?”
Jared’s smile doesn’t let up, but his eyes soak Jensen in from head to toe. “I guess you could say I’m having a busier morning than I expected,” he teases.
Jensen fails to hear J.D. coming forward until he stops beside Jensen’s shoulder. “That was you?”
Jared nods. “Came upon some shooters hiding in the bluffs. Wasn’t hard to get the drop on ‘em once I saw what they were doing.”
“You shot their leader,” Jensen adds uselessly when no other words come to him.
“Of course I did,” Jared says fiercely. “Jen-” His eyes find Jensen’s, something close to an apology in those warm, swirling greens. The tension Jensen’s been carrying in his chest all morning begins to unwind. He doesn’t care how or why Jared’s here, but he knows he won’t be able to let him go again if Jared’s not here to stay.
J.D. stomps into their moment. “That was a hell of a shot. You’re worth much more than I paid you.”
Looking away from Jensen for the first time since he appeared, Jared drops his chin, forever reserved when it comes to his skills.
Leaving the bandits under Ty’s watch, Stephen approaches the stagecoach and holds out his hand. “You saved our livelihood,” he tells Jared, “and not to mention our lives. Thanks, cowboy.”
“He’s no cowboy,” Jensen says.
Jared’s answering smile is more beautiful than a desert sunrise, all that heat directed at Jensen. He drops the reins and strides across the grass, sweeping Jensen into his arms and kissing him in front of the entire troupe. Jensen grips him tightly, wants to make sure he’s here and real, and ignores the whistles and cheers from his friends. He wants to cry out in joy, let the West know how grateful he is for this man, but he’ll settle for this, pressing his mouth against Jared’s and tasting what he thought he’d never have again.
Now that they’re out of danger, relief spreads throughout the troupe as everyone happily prepares the caravan to head out once more. When Jared lets Jensen go, only J.D. and Danneel are standing there watching.
“Were you tracking us?” Jensen asks.
“Trying to catch up, actually.”
“I didn’t think you were coming,” J.D. says. “When we talked, you said-”
“I changed my mind.”
Confused, Jensen turns to Jared. “What are you talking about?”
After sharing a look with J.D., Jared says, “Your boss offered me a job.”
“I told him I’d be crazy to leave a sharpshooter like that behind. I could use a ringer like him.” Morgan laughs at the dumbfounded expression on Jensen’s face. “But he turned me down.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jensen waves his finger between them. “Why didn’t either of you tell me?”
“He said no,” J.D. reminds him, “so there was nothing to tell.”
“And I didn’t want to hurt you even more,” Jared says, words meant only for Jensen.
Happiness and anger fight to control Jensen’s heart. There can be no victor until Jared answers one more question.
“Why’d you change your mind?”
Aware of the seriousness of the moment, J.D. and Danneel move away, J.D.’s wide palm on the small of her back as a physical comfort. Jensen imagines that the events of this morning will stick with all of them for a long time to come, but for now they’re all alive and unharmed.
“I left town as early as I could,” Jared tells him. “I knew that if I stayed any longer, I wouldn’t be able to go. But as I was riding outta town, something just felt wrong-like I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. When I turned back, I ran across a man re-shoeing his horse on the trail. He’s the one who told me about the rumors of bandits in the area lookin’ for easy prey. I rode as fast as I could, Jensen…”
Somehow Jensen knows that Jared is remembering his brother, the corners of his mouth beginning to drop. He wraps his arms around the gunslinger and leans into his embrace.
“You made it, Jared,” he whispers. “I’m safe-we’re all safe, thanks to you.”
It’s not Jensen’s imagination; Jared’s hold on him tightens.
“You’re going to stay?” Jensen asks. “Join the exhibition?”
Jared collects himself quickly. “I realized I don’t have to settle down in order to have you. And I think this life might suit me.”
“It will,” Jensen says. “I promise.”
When the caravan is ready to head out, Jensen elects to ride with Jared for a little while on one of Misha’s horses. Danneel tosses him a knowing smirk before she and J.D. step into the stagecoach together. Ty has added the bandits’ weapons to their stock of arms and ammunition while Misha herded their horses. Stephen and Cain, who appeared with Sheppard moments ago, sent the wounded men away after dressing their wounds as best they could, more than one threat delivered in case the remaining thieves were harboring thoughts of revenge. But they scurried off as quickly as they could, grateful to be leaving with their lives. Unlike Poplar.
The dead are dragged far off the road, left for the buzzards and coyotes.
“Where are we heading?” Jared asks as he leads Jensen over to his horse. The magnificent animal looks up as if he’s impatient to get back on the trail. Next to the gelding is Jensen’s favorite horse: a calm, tawny mare that’s been in their herd for years. She’s already saddled and ready to go.
“California,” Jensen tells him. “Ever been?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to see the ocean,” Jared says. “Which reminds me…”
Reaching into his duster, Jared pulls out a small object. It catches the sunlight and shines in Jared’s palm. Jensen only needs a few seconds to recognize the fine craftsmanship of the turquoise bracelet he’d so admired in Charlie’s emporium.
“I was looking for something that would remind me of you,” he explains, taking Jensen’s wrist and stroking the skin softly before fitting the silver cuff over his arm. “I’m guessin’ you know who might’ve suggested this piece in particular.”
The bracelet suits Jensen perfectly. The original owner was forced to give it up in order to pursue his love, but it found its way to Jared, now binding the two of them together. It is, by far, the most meaningful token Jensen has ever received.
His gratitude is written in a kiss that Jared eagerly accepts. Jensen vaguely recognizes that the coaches and wagons are beginning to move, but he doesn’t pull away and neither does Jared. The sound of hooves and creaking wheels starts to fade. Soon, Jared and Jensen are alone on the road, only their horses left to watch over them. Jensen isn’t worried-they’ll catch up to the caravan eventually.
They may have all the time in the world, but Jensen doesn’t intend to waste a single moment.
FIN.
MASTER POST
ART POST by littlepistols
Thank you so much for reading!