Fic: Bandits at Twelve O'Clock, PG13/R, Alternate Universe
Title: Bandits at Twelve O'Clock
Author: ALC Punk!
Rating: PG13/R, innuendo, naked people, violence, language, adult situations
Genre: Alternate Reality, Crossover, Femslash, Action/Adventure
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica (reimagined), Stargate: SG-1
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Samantha Carter
Setting: Ye Olde West
Length: 28,000 words
Notes: This has sort of been sitting around, waiting to be finished for a really long time. I started with 7,500 but ripped out about 2,000 before writing the rest. I already have ideas for a sequel *facepalm*.
This was written for femslash_land's Big Bang Challenge.
It was the kind of town where you'd expect tumble weeds to saunter past. Perhaps going for tea and cakes together, or taking a moment to mix sugar into coffee so dark not even an addict would drink it. Small, fairly obscure, yet people found themselves drawn to it, occasionally. It wasn't the smallest town in the area, it even boasted more than one street.
Samantha Carter had grown up there, had lived through good times and bad. And now she was planning to leave, to spread her wings and fly. She liked to say it was 'making something' of herself, although she never exactly specified what. Even at nineteen she wasn't a stupid girl, she understood that women weren't supposed to become things like scientists and theoreticians.
Not that it mattered. It was what she had her heart set on, despite her father's insistence that she'd meet the right man and settle down to give him grandchildren.
Jacob Carter was a mite old-fashioned, as some of them on the east coast might say.
But, as the sheriff, Samantha supposed he was supposed to be a little stuffy, a little straight-edge. There were laws to uphold after all. She sighed to herself, ignoring the gentle breeze coming in through the open window as she concentrated on filling out the last of her paperwork. This university application was her ticket out of here. She wasn't sure that her father would continue to consent to it, if she got accepted. But she had to hope he would, otherwise she'd go mad.
Tucking a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear, she paused and chewed on her lower lip.
Bootsteps on the porch outside the sheriff's office distracted her from the task, and she looked up. Her father had left earlier to patrol the southern borders of the town, leaving her to cover any possible problem. Not that there were many in a small town like this.
Well, mostly no problems, she thought, shivering as she remembered the news she'd had that morning from her father's deputy, Jonas County.
Now, Jonas was the kind of man her father wanted her to settle down with. Honest and steady, hard-working and even-tempered. He'd even suggested she walk out with him once or twice. Samantha had turned him down, certain of only one thing: Jonas wasn't exactly the man she wanted to marry. He was a nice enough lad, but there was still something missing, some spark that left her feeling eventually bored in his company.
The boots sounded on the hardwood outside the door, and a moment later the person shoved their way into the office, stalking in as if he owned the place.
She, Samantha realized a moment after the woman had stopped in front of her desk. Samantha's startled gaze took in the trousers and tightly-laced vest. Her eyes caught the tanned skin of the woman's throat and chest, and a flush slid along her own skin.
"Like what you see, honey?" Starbuck drawled around the cigar in her mouth. She smirked at Samantha.
"I--" Straightening, Sam put on her best Official Sheriff's Daughter face, "I'm Sam Carter, how may I help you?"
"Lots of ways." Removing the cigar from her mouth, she bent forward, tapping it on the desk. "I'm Starbuck. The sheriff hired me."
"You're--but you're--"
"A woman?" Starbuck's eyebrow went up, her gaze turned sardonic. "I've noticed, honey."
Samantha swallowed, "Miss Carter, please."
"Very formal. Look, honey, the sheriff asked for me, and I came. If he doesn't need me, that's still money he owes me."
Irritated at the woman's tone, Sam stood, realizing with some satisfaction, that she was taller than Starbuck. Never before had her height seemed an advantage. Not that Starbuck was cowed. "I'm afraid the sheriff isn't in right now, he's out on patrol. But if you'd like to stable your horse and take a meal at the motel, he will return before evening."
"And who's going to pay for that, honey?"
"Stop calling me that. My name," Sam said as she came around the desk, "is Sam Carter. Miss Carter, to you."
Starbuck smirked, and took a long drag on her stogie, then leaned in and blew out her mouthful of smoke. "Too long, honey."
"Why do you insist on being difficult?"
"It's a thing." Starbuck leaned forward, into Sam's personal space. "Kinda like drunkards get drunk, and sheriffs catch bad guys. I annoy, and catch bad guys--for a price, of course."
Unwilling to back up, Sam became immediately aware that Kara was too close. Like a line of electricity down her body, following a path of least resistance. She tried to ignore it as she swallowed and snapped back, "Right. So you're just an ass to be obnoxious."
"Ooh. Big words, honey."
Sam clamped her mouth closed, glaring.
Looking amused, Starbuck shook her head, lights dancing in her eyes. "You should smile, not glare, sweet-stuff. You're much prettier when you smile."
Jerking away from the suddenly disturbing woman, Sam drew a breath, trying to stabilize her senses. Why this woman should send her into confusion, she didn't know. She straightened her shoulders and put the confusion behind her. A part of her considered simply telling the woman to get lost, but a small amount of discourtesy was worth it, if she was as good as her initial negotiating price seemed to say. The bandits plaguing the town were becoming a real nuisance. "I--my father will be back shortly, if you'd like to get lunch, and the sheriff's office will pick up your tab, as long as it's not run up needlessly."
"No alcohol," Starbuck guessed.
"Correct. And no fighting, either."
"Such a law-abiding little girl."
"I wouldn't be the sheriff's daughter if I wasn't."
Starbuck drew on her stogie, then snorted, "Very perfect of you."
"I like perfection," Sam defended.
"You would."
Her irritation returning, Sam straightened, "My father won't--"
"Yes, you'd said." A grin crossed Starbuck's lips, "You don't like talking to me, honey?"
"What?"
"You keep tryin' to get rid of me," Starbuck stepped even closer to Sam, almost touching her. "It's almost enough to make me feel rejected."
"I--" swallowing, Sam stepped back, trying to ignore the awareness of Starbuck's body being close. Too close. It wasn't something she was used to. There had been one or two boys who had tried kissing her, but she'd never felt this intense sensory stimulation. It was probably just the way Starbuck smelled of horse and sweat, or maybe she'd closed the windows too tight. "I am, yes. I have paperwork to finish."
"Paperwork is more interesting than me? I feel hurt, darlin'."
Unwilling to admit that the paperwork was to send herself to school, Sam shook her head. "I'm sorry, miss...?"
"Starbuck, honey."
"Starbuck," then. Irritation swamped her again, and she looked at Starbuck. "Yes, my paperwork is more important than you."
"I'm wounded, honey, very wounded." Starbuck leaned towards Sam.
For a fleeting moment, Sam felt as though the other woman was taller. The force of her personality washed over her, and Sam wanted to reach out and smack her, or push her away. Then the moment passed, and she narrowed her eyes and straightened her back even more. "Was there anything else you wanted me to help you with, Starbuck?"
It was un-ladylike to turn the name into something derisive, but Sam didn't care.
"Depends, honey." Her lips curled into their customary smirk. "I'm sure there's lots I could think of for you to--" her eyes dropped to Sam's lips. "Help me with."
"Well, I've been known to curry my own horse," Sam offered, not really in charity with the woman, but willing to be kind to a dumb animal, if it would get her out of reach.
Starbuck looked oddly disappointed, but she shook her head, "That's all right. I'll be fine on my own." She held out her hand, suddenly formal in a way that surprised Sam.
Taking her hand, Sam expected the firm handshake, but not the moment which followed.
Starbuck held her hand a little too long, then turned it over and bent, brushing her lips along Sam's knuckles. It was an ancient courtesy between a man and a woman, and Sam wondered if she were playing the boy or simply being frivolous. Confusing her even more, her pulse jumped and skipped for a moment before Starbuck released her fingers.
"Perhaps I'll see you later, Samantha Carter."
Before Sam could reply, Starbuck was gone, striding out the door, her boots echoing down the stairs.
A shiver went up Sam's spine and then she shook herself. Really, of all the things to become breathless over! She had her essays to finish and that last multiple choice to mull over. Taking herself in hand, she hurried back to her writing desk, determined to finish her application before her father returned.
And she was not going to think of oddly attractive women with bewitching hazel eyes who laughed at her and kissed her fingers. Or any other part of her.
Banishing her suddenly un-ladylike thoughts, Sam bent back over the desk and took up her pen.
-=-
Just like every other town. Starbuck shook her head as she led Pyramid towards the motel. Full of staid women and boring men. Pyramid butted at her when she stopped for a minute to survey the motel.
It was a large building, built into the three stories with a fourth tacked on as a facade. Around the side, she could see the stable-yard. The front was painted white with yellow accents, and the sign's illustration proclaimed it the Cherry-Red Gal. Eyes skimming over the words, Kara fixated on the picture of a woman with curly red hair and a pink dress. The windows were small, with white curtains and the occasional peeping eyes. Kara was used to that--being a woman in pants was an oddity, and everyone wanted to look at her to make sure they'd seen right.
"Miss?" The stableboy looked her askance as she led Pyramid into the large building in the back.
"I'll be stayin' at least two nights." Starbuck said brusquely. "Be sure to feed him a slightly larger measure of grain tonight, it's been a long day."
"Yes, miss."
"That's Starbuck, kid." She flipped him a quarter. "I'll be back in an hour to see you've settled him properly."
Before the boy could answer, she headed back out and to the front.
For a moment, she eyed the double doors, then she strode through them, not letting the sudden drop in conversation disconcert her. She was used to it, after all.
"Can I help you?" The inn-keep was obviously unimpressed.
"Starbuck. I need a room for two nights and stabling for my horse." She set down her wallet, letting the gold clink against itself. "I've been hired by the sheriff."
It wasn't that John Tyrol was a bad man. He was simply a cautious man, and women in pants were an oddity. Women with independent means were even stranger, and women hired by the sheriff? Unthinkable. But he didn't laugh. He'd learned, long ago, that laughing was a bad thing to do when confronted with a woman. They got touchy about such things.
So instead, he just nodded, and charged her lodging for two nights.
When she paid without blinking an eye, he showed her the book and had her sign. The name wasn't legible, but he didn't much care. Then he handed her the key to her room and gave her directions.
"Top of the stairs third door, 'keep. Got it." Starbuck smirked at him and swung the saddlebags over her shoulder, before heading towards the stairs.
If she played her cards right, she'd have enough time for a quick wash before coming down. Then she could fleece a few of the idiots, and consider exactly her next move with Sam Carter. The cool blonde's disdain was almost a challenge worth taking (and if it wasn't, she could still be amused at the way Miss Carter was flustered by the little things). Then again, the sheriff might frown upon her dallying with his daughter--she'd always been one to live a little dangerously, though.
-=-
"Hey, Sam." Jacob Carter strode into the front section of the sheriff's office and smiled at his daughter. She was looking poised and as neat as a pin. Sometimes, Jacob worried that she would scare men off with her brain and intelligence. And then he'd see her sitting, with her hands folded and her mouth in a neat smile, and he'd know no man would be able to resist her. Jacob himself was no slouch, though the years had weathered him, and there was no longer a youthful spring in his step. Still, he could keep up with anyone on horseback.
"Dad." Smiling, she stood, gathering her papers. "I'll leave you to your work here, and get supper started."
"Thank you, Sam."
"Oh, Dad," she stopped, fidgeting with her stack, arranging it just so, "that bounty hunter you hired is here."
"Starbuck?" Good. As soon as the man was given his particulars, Jacob would sleep easier, knowing he was hunting the band of robbers haunting the town.
"Yes." There was something odd in Sam's voice. Some hesitance.
"Well, where is he?"
"That's, uh, that's the thing, dad." Sam picked up her stack of papers, then seemed to come to a decision and said, "Starbuck's a woman."
"What?" He wondered if Sam were pulling his leg for a joke. He'd been pretty hard on her about her university ambitions, after all. It wasn't that he didn't want to support her, but he really didn't think any university would accept a woman into its class. She'd be so much happier if she'd just find a nice man and settle down.
"Starbuck's a woman, dad. I don't know who recommended her to you, but they apparently neglected to mention that."
"Damn right they did," he muttered, making a note to lambast O'Neill the next time their paths crossed. At Sam's censuring look, he flushed, "Sorry, Sam."
"You're the one who wants me to be a lady, dad," said Sam gently. "And if I'm going to not use language like that..."
"You know, your mother used to give me the same look." He smiled sadly. Catherine would have loved to see her daughter grow into womanhood. It was one of the things he regretted everytime he thought of her (when he let himself remember his wife, at least).
"Did she?"
"She did." He reached over and ruffled her hair, "Just yesterday, it seems like you were barely old enough to cook dinner, now you're off to some fancy college."
"Maybe off, I haven't been accepted yet."
"They'd be fools not to." Jacob wondered if his daughter knew how much he would miss her, and how much he hoped she'd meet a man there she could settle down with. He didn't think she'd appreciate him talking about grandchildren again. Even if he really did want to see her happy and settled. This scientist idea she had, he just didn't think it would wash.
Science was a man's world, and much as he hated for her to find that out, he hoped it happened before she had all of her dreams crushed.
"Maybe," something in her eyes told him Sam understood some of the things he thought.
"So, what's for supper?" he asked.
"Cold meat, potatoes and salad greens." Sam snorted. "That's really why you want me to go to university, so you can get better food."
"I'm not saying you can't cook," teased Jacob. He also wasn't saying he wanted her to go. But he'd learned long ago that taking against anything would put her back--she was just like her mother, in that respect. Ornery to the core, and he wondered if some of that wasn't his own fault.
"No, I'm saying it." She smiled and began gathering her papers. "I should go attend to that, I'm sure you have paperwork to do before you eat. Or you can check on Starbuck, and let her know whether you'll still be hiring her."
Jacob shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. On the one hand, Starbuck's reputation had preceded her. If she'd been a man, he'd have no qualms about hiring her. Since she wasn't... Well, perhaps he should meet her, and make certain she wasn't some whore tricked out to take his money. "If I hire her, Sam, I think I'll still have you brief her regarding what we know so far."
"All right, dad." Sam tucked her papers into the crook of her arm. "I'll go handle supper, you go visit Starbuck. And lock up the office."
The brisk efficiency of his daughter always reminded him of his wife. Catherine had been good at that sort of thing. "Yes, dear." He offered affectionately. Sam, of course, had made the efficiency her own, balancing it with numbers and a secret love of poetry.
Chuckling, Sam headed for the door.
Jacob checked his desk for mail, decided it could wait until the morning, and headed out to meet Starbuck.
-=-
She was as arrogant as he'd thought she'd be, though cleaner. And she wasn't ugly, even if she was young enough to be his daughter. Short, blonde, compact in a way Sam wasn't (even if he lamented Sam's height, he knew she was graceful and elegant). Her mother had been tall like that, too. They used to get teased because she was as tall as he was. Starbuck was presiding over a table of men, her hand of cards held carelessly in one hand, the other holding a half-smoked cigar.
"Well, gentlemen?"
Jacob watched her from the bar, reading her easily. She was like most men, in a way. Ignoring the shape of her, at least. Brash, impulsive, quick to anger--one of the men playing with her accused her of cheating and she punched him, knocking him out. The others dissolved into laughter as she called for another round.
There was nothing feminine about her, which worried Jacob, but he couldn't quite place why.
When he was tired of watching her, he walked over while the cards were being shuffled. "Starbuck?"
"You finally gonna stop watchin', old man?" Her smirk was amused as she looked at him. "Or is that the only way y'can get it to work for ya?" She winked.
He coughed. "I'm sheriff Carter. I believe I hired you?"
"Oh." She laughed, the sound raucous. "Pardon me for not getting up, but I'm a little busy earning some on the side."
"I see," he hooked his thumbs into his gun-belt and nodded at the other men at the table. "And are you confident that this--carousing--won't affect your ability to track down this gang?"
"Yes, sir," Starbuck said, trying to look solemn. "No affecting my abilities." She laughed again, the sound derisive. "Is that all, sir?"
"For the moment."
"Thank you, sir." She smirked, puckered her lips and blew him a kiss. "Gonna go back and tell Sam I'm fired?"
"No."
"Good. Because I'd still charge you." She picked up her cards, studied them a second, then winked at him. "Tell her I said 'hi'."
Deciding that leaving before he let the irritating woman get under his skin further was the better part of valor, Jacob departed the scene. For just a moment, it troubled him that the woman was calling his daughter by her first name, then he brushed it aside. Starbuck, after all, was just a woman in the end.
-=-
Sam was whistling off-key, hands busy with slicing the meat for supper when her father returned. She could hear him rummaging around in the small sitting room that doubled as a dining area before he stuck his head into the kitchen and sniffed.
"Smells good."
"Thanks." She tossed him a smile and went back to arranging supper. "So, are you going to keep her?"
"I think so. She's brash and arrogant, but she's supposed to be good."
"Ah." Glad she was facing the sink, Sam wondered if her father guessed how much it hurt that he was accepting this female bounty hunter, but wouldn't accept her ambitions as a scientist. It was a fleeting hurt, but it was there all the same. "That's good, I suppose."
"Well, pride is a sin."
"Yes."
"She said to tell you she said hi." Jacob said. He sounded confused, as though he couldn't fathom what she and Starbuck had in common. Sam thought about wearing trousers and carrying a gun, then told herself that was a silly ambition. Just let her get her hands on real laboratory equipment, and she'd be happy, skirts and petticoats and all.
For a moment, Sam could see the exact smirk that must have been on Starbuck's lips as she told her father that. Amused, superior, smug... "Did she? I guess she decided she liked me, then."
"How could anyone not like you, Sam?"
"I don't know." She smiled at him over her shoulder, then finished arranging the food and turned, platter in hand. "Supper will be served as soon as I pour the cider."
He smiled back and took the platter from her, "Why don't you pour while I set the table?"
-=-
Starbuck played through two more hands before tossing her cards down and stubbing her cigar out. The acrid smoke had stopped bothering her throat years ago, but for a moment, she thought about what it would be like for the stench to burn as it went down her throat. Thanks to the dingey bars she frequented, a never-ending haze of smoke clouded her eyes. It was why Starbuck liked being out in the open air, with nothing between her and the sky but the stars.
"You sure you wanna leave, Girly?" Manny Smith reached out to catch her wrist, leering without any finesse.
"Honey, I'm not sure of a lot of things, but there's one thing I do know." Starbuck leaned closer, twisting her hand around and digging her nails into his wrist. "Let me go, or I'll cut your tongue out."
Manny sneered at her, grip tightening, "You wouldn't dare, little girl--"
Slamming her fist into his face, she followed it up by yanking her wrist free and grabbing a knife off the table. "Wanna play, Manny? Or are you going to apologize?" The weight of the knife wasn't much, the blade was probably dull. But it would get the job done. Kara considered. She'd have to hold him down, sit on his chest and pull the tongue out to start with.
A hand grabbed the back of her vest, yanking her away from him.
Kara lashed out with her leg, knocking Manny from the chair while she twisted in John Carstairs' grip, trying to pull away.
This was just what she'd wanted: a fight. Something to work off her energy before falling into bed. Especially since the only interesting prospect for bedding had been Miss Samantha Carter, and Kara was pretty certain there was no way in hell that would happen. The thought of the delectable Miss Carter reminded her that the other woman was taller. Irritation flared irrationally, and she punched backwards over one shoulder, hitting Carstairs' nose.
He released her with a howl.
One of the other card players came at her, but Starbuck was ready this time. Her fists were up, and she feinted left before knocking his teeth out with a left hook her mama would have been proud of. If her mother would have been proud of anything Kara ever did.
The rest of the bar was getting into the fight, some of them throwing things at each other.
Starbuck threw back her head and laughed, then put her head down and tackled the nearest brawler, fists pounding into his face.
Something broke across her back, glass flying everywhere. Another body slammed into her, knocking her off the man beneath her and under the table. Starbuck rolled, landing on top and slamming his head into the floorboards, then pausing to eye the room before sliding out and grabbing the nearest chair, swinging it up and smashing it into Manny's back.
He went down, and she raised it to hit him again.
A gunshot went off, jerking them all to a halt as the sheriff and his deputies poured into the room, yelling, breaking up the fights.
Starbuck dropped her chair and stepped back to the bar, glass crunching her under her boots. She could feel the hits she'd taken start to sting, and there was blood dripping from a cut down the side of her face that she didn't remember getting.
"What the hell is going on here?" Sheriff Carter bellowed again, stopping in front of Starbuck and eyeing her.
The man hadn't liked her earlier, Starbuck was pretty sure he wasn't changing his opinion as he glared at her now. She put on her best sneer. "Just havin' fun, sheriff."
"Bitch--" One of the men shut up as the man next to him shoved him.
"Explain yourself, Starbuck," the sheriff said coldly. "I didn't hire you to come in and brawl, I hired you to track down a gang of criminals."
"The brawling comes free, sheriff." She smiled sweetly at him.
He glared at her, and raised his voice, "You're all spending the night in jail, in the morning, I'll have words with all of you and fines to place. Including you, missy."
"That's Starbuck to you, sheriff, and if you lock me up and fine me, I'm not so certain I'll stay here and track those criminals." It was shaky ground, and there hadn't been any contracts signed, but she could still walk out. If he let her.
"You think not, Starbuck?" His eyebrows went up, "I could have you thrown in jail for breach of contract, on top of starting a bar-fight. Think that fine would add to your reputation?"
Narrowing her eyes, Kara stood her ground, "You wouldn't dare."
"I'm the sheriff here, young lady. Don't tell me what I would and wouldn't do." There was a strain around his eyes. He continued, his voice lowering, "I hired you because I need your expertise, not your mouth, and not your pride. Either get that through your pretty head or I will see you locked up."
She could fight, or she could give in. Starbuck was never one to bluff. She shook her head. "Lock me up, then, sheriff. I ain't gonna be your hired whore."
He blinked at her, then nodded and turned away to begin ordering the rest of the men back to the sheriff's office and the jail.
Taking the moment to let herself relax, Kara sagged against the bar. Now that the adrenaline was gone, her back ached and her knuckles stung. Not to mention the still-dripping blood, and the nagging worry that she'd just made a huge mistake in pissing off the sheriff. She needed the job he'd offered. Sure, she could possibly find another job soon. But with actual charges hanging against her, they might not accept her as easily. Bounty hunters were a dime a dozen--the good ones were harder to find, but even so, you could only charge so much before they'd start looking elsewhere. There was always a man who'd charge just a little less than she could afford to.
Life was always treating her like this. Letting her think she'd gotten ahead and then yanking the carpet out from under her. She should, she reflected bitterly as she fell into line with the men being sent to jail, be used to this. Hope was pointless, and a waste of her time. She always screwed things up.
No matter how hard she tried.
The night air was cool, seeping into her bones and making her injuries ache more. Kara clamped her mouth closed, unwilling to even contemplate asking for a sawbones. After all, she'd made her bed, and she'd certainly had worse injuries. And at least this time she wasn't going to have to spend two days walking to town.
She remembered one of the nights of that journey as a hazy, pain-filled series of moments. Stumbling and getting up--forcing herself onwards because to lay down and sleep was to die. The morning had brought rain, making it worse. She'd been a wreck when she'd staggered into town and collapsed. The doctor had told her she was lucky to have survived.
Yeah. Lucky.
The dirt and gravel of the street crunched under her boots as she walked, the scent of dust reaching her nostrils and reminding her of a hundred nights and more sleeping under the stars.
A hand grabbed her arm as she started to enter the sheriff's office, the forceful halt jarred her and she winced slightly. Her memories fled, for the moment.
"Ma'am, sheriff says I was to detain you until he's finished with the others." The deputy told her, eyes widening as he looked her up and down.
Kara crossed her arms and returned the look, inch for inch. He was blushing when she looked at his face again. "Did he say why, Deputy?"
"No, ma'am." Reginald Bartlett cleared his throat, trying not to blush more.
Footsteps from nearby made Starbuck tense, and she half-reached for the gun at her hip before remembering that it wouldn't be a good idea to draw with the deputy standing right there.
"Reggie? Reggie, what's going on, I heard--" Samantha Carter stopped as she noticed Starbuck standing there. "You."
"Hey, honey. Did we drag you from your bed?" Unable to stop herself, Starbuck eyed Miss Carter in much the same way she'd eyed the deputy--except this time, she enjoyed it. From the top of her blonde head to the toes of her black boots, Samantha Carter was a looker. Her features were fine, with blue eyes that seemed to pinpoint you like you were a fly on a wall, and lips that just begged to be kissed. Her neck was slim and graceful, leading to neatly-squared shoulders. Kara paused her perusal to take in the hastily-buttoned bodice, noting the mis-match that showed a gap right above her breasts.
"I'll, uh, go tell the sheriff you're here," Deputy Bartlett fled, sure that his boss would want to know that his daughter was awake. Also, he had the strangest feeling they weren't paying him any attention, anyway.
"Stop looking at me like that."
Kara smirked, "Why?" Lingering for a moment on the pale skin she could just barely see, she wondered if Samantha Carter had forgotten to wear a shift in her haste.
"It's not proper. Now stop it."
"Proper?" Stepping closer, Kara lifted her eyes to Samantha's, "Samantha, honey, I'm fairly certain leaving yourself unbuttoned ain't proper." Her hand reached out, finger tracing just above the opening. "If you want, I can fix this for you." Though she'd really miss that flash of skin.
Color filled Sam's cheeks, and she jerked back.
Kara could hear her breathing change, quickening.
"I--" Quickly, Carter turned and faced the wall, fingers working to correct the problem without baring more of herself to public scrutiny. "I was in a hurry."
"Noticed, honey." Deciding that pressing closer wasn't an option, Kara took the time to study the back of Samantha's neck. It was just as flushed as her cheeks had been, and she wondered if the girl had any inkling of why Kara's touch had made her react so.
Most women wouldn't have cared, most would have brushed her hand off, laughed, and possibly simply apologized for their state of undress. Samantha's flustered response said a lot of things.
It possibly simply said she wasn't that worldly.
Turning around, Sam straightened her shoulders, the color leaving her cheeks. "Why are you here?"
"I'm getting thrown in jail, honey."
Sam's eyes flashed, "Stop calling me that."
Taking a risk, Kara stepped closer, "I could call you Samantha," she rolled the name around her tongue like a fine wine, her voicing dipping low.
Sam's tongue slipped out, sliding across her lips and Kara tracked the movement with her eyes as she swallowed, "No, call me Miss Carter."
"I think we're a little past such formality, honey. Your dad's throwin' me in jail." Kara smirked as she watched the pulse jump in Sam's throat. "If it helps, you could call me Kara."
"Jail?" Her head came up, and Sam blinked, "Why?"
"I started a fight, honey."
"Kara--you're injured," Sam's hand came up, her finger carefully traced the line of blood on Kara's temple. "That should be seen to."
"Nah, it's nothin'."
"Nothing?" Closing a hand on Kara's shoulder, Sam steered her into the lamplight spilling from inside the sheriff's office, "You've got a bruise and a cut." Briskly, she turned, pulling Kara with her, "I'll just take you upstairs and deal with that, and then bring you back here. Dad won't mind."
"Honey, do you think that's such a good idea?" Not that Kara wanted to resist, she allowed Samantha to take her around the corner and to a side door.
"You're injured." Sam said firmly. She was all brisk efficiency now, her uncertainty buried for the moment. She opened the door and led Kara up into the apartment she shared with her father. The lamp was set low, so she turned it up, then pushed Kara into a chair. "I'll get the medical kit."
Waiting for Sam to return, Kara glanced around the room. It wasn't cluttered, like most places she'd seen with women in charge of the household. Most of the furnishings were utilitarian in nature, with a few bright throws here and there. No fripperies, no lacey draperies. Kara's opinion of Sam rose even further. Frippery women annoyed her.
"There." Sam returned carrying a pile of cloths and a bowl of water, with a satchel over her shoulder. She bustled about, setting the bowl and cloths down and turning Kara's chair so that the light shone on the side with the wound. Then she carefully took Kara's chin and tilted her head, leaning close to study it for a moment. "It doesn't look deep, there's just quite a bit of blood."
Kara closed her eyes, breathing in Sam's scent. Lavender and sweat and something else that had to be her skin. It was intoxicating. "God, you smell good."
"Lavender," Sam replied, carefully using a damp cloth to wipe the blood from Kara's temple.
Wincing, Kara jerked her head away from the cloth.
"Don't move." Sam's grip on her chin tightened. "I'm being as gentle as a I can."
"Do you say that to all your patients?" Opening her eyes, Kara discovered that Sam was still leaning very close. Her nostrils flared, taking in the intermingled smells of Sam and blood.
"No."
"Good." Turning her head against Sam's grip, Kara leaned closer, intent on burying her nose in Sam's hair.
"What are you--" she froze as Kara's lips ghosted over the skin of her neck.
Pulling back, Kara smirked, "I said you smell good, honey. Thought I'd take advantage."
"I see." Sam carefully released her and pulled back. "I don't think you'll need stitches, though there may be a scar."
Kara shrugged, and winced, "Won't matter. It'll just be another one to add to the collection."
"Where else are you injured?"
"It's just bruises."
"Where else?" Sam crossed her arms, glaring.
Right then, Kara knew she was definitely Jacob Carter's daughter. She sighed, then winced again, "Bruised ribs, something on my back, maybe pulled muscles."
"Let me see."
Smirking again, Kara stood, "You want to strip me, Samantha?"
Her cheeks flushed again, but she stood her ground. "Shirt off, Kara."
"Anything for you, honey." Taking her time (more to keep from hurting than for show), Kara unbuttoned the vest and shirt then carefully shrugged them off with Sam's help. Then she was naked from the waist up except for the band of fabric binding her breasts down. Luckily, the room wasn't very cool, though the air still caused her skin to goosebump, the hair standing on end as Sam moved her, hands on her shoulders. Kara resisted the urge to tell prim Miss Carter to put her hands elsewhere. Her nipples hardened at the thought.
"You're right, mostly bruises, although I think something almost broke the skin here." Sam released one shoulder and stepped closer, finger tracing one particularly livid-looking weal on Kara's back.
Kara clamped her lips closed, and swallowed. The gentle touch did more than a hundred leers and sloppy kisses in the dark had, that was for certain. She throttled down her response, determined not to let Samantha figure out how much she affected her. "I think it was a bottle or a pitcher. Didn't stop to notice."
"Oh." Almost reluctantly, Samantha removed her hands, "You can dress now. Dad's probably wondering where you went."
"Probably thinks I skipped town," Kara joked, hiding the trembling in her hands by hurrying to pull her shirt and vest back on. Her nipples were still hard, and she brushed one while buttoning the shirt and had to bite her lip. Damn. No woman had affected her like this, ever. It was impossible and unthinkable, and she'd be damned if she let little Miss Samantha Carter get under her skin.
"No. He knows you're here to fulfill--"
"Honey, he's throwin' me in jail. I don't think he knows anything except that I'm a bastard and a woman." Kara turned, false bravado firmly in place. She smirked, "Now that we're done playin' hooky, you should probably take me back down there. Unless you want to play something else now."
The flush in her cheeks said Sam Carter had some inkling to what she was referring, but she said, "I'll take you down there. I'm not stupid enough to play cards with the likes of you."
"The likes of me?" Raising an eyebrow, Starbuck snorted, "Not bad, honey. But you've got to work on the indignation and moral outrage a little more. Maybe thump the bible a few times."
"Shut up." Sam stalked past her, and towards the stairs, giving Kara a nice view of her neck again.
As she followed Sam down, she wondered what would happen if she kissed the skin at the nape--just brushed the wisps of hair to the side and slid her lips across the soft skin there. She could take in the scent of Sam and lavender again.
Never one to run from a challenge, Kara sped up, catching Sam before she could open the door. Being one step up gave her the height advantage, and her fingers slipped into Sam's hair, brushing the strands away from her neck as she let her thumb over the patch of skin there. No kissing, not yet--Kara might be bold in some matters, but in others, she refused to be like her male counterparts.
"Oh." Sam said softly, the sound almost a sigh.
Kara brought her other hand up to clasp Sam's shoulders, fingernails digging in just a little as she let her fingers combing through the loose tendrils, pulling more from the hasty arrangement at the back of her neck. "You were returning me to your father," she whispered, voice husky.
"Right. Yes."
Kara trailed a finger across Sam's throat. "Door, Samantha. Open it."
Shaking herself, Sam yanked open the door and stepped out as if propelled, "Right. This way. Dad's probably--"
"Sam!" Jacob Carter came hurrying up, "Sam, Reginald said--" He broke off and glared at Kara, "Thought you'd hide until I'd forgotten you?"
"Dad--"
"Sheriff," Kara interrupted, moving past Sam, "Your daughter was kind enough to tend to my wounds, nothing more." She held out her hands. "Now, where would you like to lock me up?"
He glared harder, "I don't take kindly to--"
"DAD," Sam interrupted him, hands on her hips, "She was injured. I merely tended her injuries. And you can't be serious about locking her in a cell tonight, not with half the men in this town locked up with her. That wouldn't be right!"
"Stamp your foot, honey, you didn't sound self-righteous enough," Kara suggested, amused.
"You be quiet," she snapped. "Dad, I think you should just send her back to her room, and dock part of her contract for the disruption she caused."
Dock part of her pay? Oh, now the woman was getting on her nerves. "Now, wait--"
Jacob held up a hand, smirking at Kara, "Sometimes, my daughter's smarter than me. She's going to university, you know." He beamed at Sam, "That'll work, sweetie. I'll just escort her to the motel and make sure she doesn't run off."
"Fine."
Kara opened her mouth to object again, then closed it at the resolute look he turned on her. Fine. She fumed all the way back to the hotel. And after she'd flirted, too! That interfering, irritating, priggish--yet hot--woman!
Part Two
Author: ALC Punk!
Rating: PG13/R, innuendo, naked people, violence, language, adult situations
Genre: Alternate Reality, Crossover, Femslash, Action/Adventure
Fandoms: Battlestar Galactica (reimagined), Stargate: SG-1
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Samantha Carter
Setting: Ye Olde West
Length: 28,000 words
Notes: This has sort of been sitting around, waiting to be finished for a really long time. I started with 7,500 but ripped out about 2,000 before writing the rest. I already have ideas for a sequel *facepalm*.
This was written for femslash_land's Big Bang Challenge.
It was the kind of town where you'd expect tumble weeds to saunter past. Perhaps going for tea and cakes together, or taking a moment to mix sugar into coffee so dark not even an addict would drink it. Small, fairly obscure, yet people found themselves drawn to it, occasionally. It wasn't the smallest town in the area, it even boasted more than one street.
Samantha Carter had grown up there, had lived through good times and bad. And now she was planning to leave, to spread her wings and fly. She liked to say it was 'making something' of herself, although she never exactly specified what. Even at nineteen she wasn't a stupid girl, she understood that women weren't supposed to become things like scientists and theoreticians.
Not that it mattered. It was what she had her heart set on, despite her father's insistence that she'd meet the right man and settle down to give him grandchildren.
Jacob Carter was a mite old-fashioned, as some of them on the east coast might say.
But, as the sheriff, Samantha supposed he was supposed to be a little stuffy, a little straight-edge. There were laws to uphold after all. She sighed to herself, ignoring the gentle breeze coming in through the open window as she concentrated on filling out the last of her paperwork. This university application was her ticket out of here. She wasn't sure that her father would continue to consent to it, if she got accepted. But she had to hope he would, otherwise she'd go mad.
Tucking a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear, she paused and chewed on her lower lip.
Bootsteps on the porch outside the sheriff's office distracted her from the task, and she looked up. Her father had left earlier to patrol the southern borders of the town, leaving her to cover any possible problem. Not that there were many in a small town like this.
Well, mostly no problems, she thought, shivering as she remembered the news she'd had that morning from her father's deputy, Jonas County.
Now, Jonas was the kind of man her father wanted her to settle down with. Honest and steady, hard-working and even-tempered. He'd even suggested she walk out with him once or twice. Samantha had turned him down, certain of only one thing: Jonas wasn't exactly the man she wanted to marry. He was a nice enough lad, but there was still something missing, some spark that left her feeling eventually bored in his company.
The boots sounded on the hardwood outside the door, and a moment later the person shoved their way into the office, stalking in as if he owned the place.
She, Samantha realized a moment after the woman had stopped in front of her desk. Samantha's startled gaze took in the trousers and tightly-laced vest. Her eyes caught the tanned skin of the woman's throat and chest, and a flush slid along her own skin.
"Like what you see, honey?" Starbuck drawled around the cigar in her mouth. She smirked at Samantha.
"I--" Straightening, Sam put on her best Official Sheriff's Daughter face, "I'm Sam Carter, how may I help you?"
"Lots of ways." Removing the cigar from her mouth, she bent forward, tapping it on the desk. "I'm Starbuck. The sheriff hired me."
"You're--but you're--"
"A woman?" Starbuck's eyebrow went up, her gaze turned sardonic. "I've noticed, honey."
Samantha swallowed, "Miss Carter, please."
"Very formal. Look, honey, the sheriff asked for me, and I came. If he doesn't need me, that's still money he owes me."
Irritated at the woman's tone, Sam stood, realizing with some satisfaction, that she was taller than Starbuck. Never before had her height seemed an advantage. Not that Starbuck was cowed. "I'm afraid the sheriff isn't in right now, he's out on patrol. But if you'd like to stable your horse and take a meal at the motel, he will return before evening."
"And who's going to pay for that, honey?"
"Stop calling me that. My name," Sam said as she came around the desk, "is Sam Carter. Miss Carter, to you."
Starbuck smirked, and took a long drag on her stogie, then leaned in and blew out her mouthful of smoke. "Too long, honey."
"Why do you insist on being difficult?"
"It's a thing." Starbuck leaned forward, into Sam's personal space. "Kinda like drunkards get drunk, and sheriffs catch bad guys. I annoy, and catch bad guys--for a price, of course."
Unwilling to back up, Sam became immediately aware that Kara was too close. Like a line of electricity down her body, following a path of least resistance. She tried to ignore it as she swallowed and snapped back, "Right. So you're just an ass to be obnoxious."
"Ooh. Big words, honey."
Sam clamped her mouth closed, glaring.
Looking amused, Starbuck shook her head, lights dancing in her eyes. "You should smile, not glare, sweet-stuff. You're much prettier when you smile."
Jerking away from the suddenly disturbing woman, Sam drew a breath, trying to stabilize her senses. Why this woman should send her into confusion, she didn't know. She straightened her shoulders and put the confusion behind her. A part of her considered simply telling the woman to get lost, but a small amount of discourtesy was worth it, if she was as good as her initial negotiating price seemed to say. The bandits plaguing the town were becoming a real nuisance. "I--my father will be back shortly, if you'd like to get lunch, and the sheriff's office will pick up your tab, as long as it's not run up needlessly."
"No alcohol," Starbuck guessed.
"Correct. And no fighting, either."
"Such a law-abiding little girl."
"I wouldn't be the sheriff's daughter if I wasn't."
Starbuck drew on her stogie, then snorted, "Very perfect of you."
"I like perfection," Sam defended.
"You would."
Her irritation returning, Sam straightened, "My father won't--"
"Yes, you'd said." A grin crossed Starbuck's lips, "You don't like talking to me, honey?"
"What?"
"You keep tryin' to get rid of me," Starbuck stepped even closer to Sam, almost touching her. "It's almost enough to make me feel rejected."
"I--" swallowing, Sam stepped back, trying to ignore the awareness of Starbuck's body being close. Too close. It wasn't something she was used to. There had been one or two boys who had tried kissing her, but she'd never felt this intense sensory stimulation. It was probably just the way Starbuck smelled of horse and sweat, or maybe she'd closed the windows too tight. "I am, yes. I have paperwork to finish."
"Paperwork is more interesting than me? I feel hurt, darlin'."
Unwilling to admit that the paperwork was to send herself to school, Sam shook her head. "I'm sorry, miss...?"
"Starbuck, honey."
"Starbuck," then. Irritation swamped her again, and she looked at Starbuck. "Yes, my paperwork is more important than you."
"I'm wounded, honey, very wounded." Starbuck leaned towards Sam.
For a fleeting moment, Sam felt as though the other woman was taller. The force of her personality washed over her, and Sam wanted to reach out and smack her, or push her away. Then the moment passed, and she narrowed her eyes and straightened her back even more. "Was there anything else you wanted me to help you with, Starbuck?"
It was un-ladylike to turn the name into something derisive, but Sam didn't care.
"Depends, honey." Her lips curled into their customary smirk. "I'm sure there's lots I could think of for you to--" her eyes dropped to Sam's lips. "Help me with."
"Well, I've been known to curry my own horse," Sam offered, not really in charity with the woman, but willing to be kind to a dumb animal, if it would get her out of reach.
Starbuck looked oddly disappointed, but she shook her head, "That's all right. I'll be fine on my own." She held out her hand, suddenly formal in a way that surprised Sam.
Taking her hand, Sam expected the firm handshake, but not the moment which followed.
Starbuck held her hand a little too long, then turned it over and bent, brushing her lips along Sam's knuckles. It was an ancient courtesy between a man and a woman, and Sam wondered if she were playing the boy or simply being frivolous. Confusing her even more, her pulse jumped and skipped for a moment before Starbuck released her fingers.
"Perhaps I'll see you later, Samantha Carter."
Before Sam could reply, Starbuck was gone, striding out the door, her boots echoing down the stairs.
A shiver went up Sam's spine and then she shook herself. Really, of all the things to become breathless over! She had her essays to finish and that last multiple choice to mull over. Taking herself in hand, she hurried back to her writing desk, determined to finish her application before her father returned.
And she was not going to think of oddly attractive women with bewitching hazel eyes who laughed at her and kissed her fingers. Or any other part of her.
Banishing her suddenly un-ladylike thoughts, Sam bent back over the desk and took up her pen.
-=-
Just like every other town. Starbuck shook her head as she led Pyramid towards the motel. Full of staid women and boring men. Pyramid butted at her when she stopped for a minute to survey the motel.
It was a large building, built into the three stories with a fourth tacked on as a facade. Around the side, she could see the stable-yard. The front was painted white with yellow accents, and the sign's illustration proclaimed it the Cherry-Red Gal. Eyes skimming over the words, Kara fixated on the picture of a woman with curly red hair and a pink dress. The windows were small, with white curtains and the occasional peeping eyes. Kara was used to that--being a woman in pants was an oddity, and everyone wanted to look at her to make sure they'd seen right.
"Miss?" The stableboy looked her askance as she led Pyramid into the large building in the back.
"I'll be stayin' at least two nights." Starbuck said brusquely. "Be sure to feed him a slightly larger measure of grain tonight, it's been a long day."
"Yes, miss."
"That's Starbuck, kid." She flipped him a quarter. "I'll be back in an hour to see you've settled him properly."
Before the boy could answer, she headed back out and to the front.
For a moment, she eyed the double doors, then she strode through them, not letting the sudden drop in conversation disconcert her. She was used to it, after all.
"Can I help you?" The inn-keep was obviously unimpressed.
"Starbuck. I need a room for two nights and stabling for my horse." She set down her wallet, letting the gold clink against itself. "I've been hired by the sheriff."
It wasn't that John Tyrol was a bad man. He was simply a cautious man, and women in pants were an oddity. Women with independent means were even stranger, and women hired by the sheriff? Unthinkable. But he didn't laugh. He'd learned, long ago, that laughing was a bad thing to do when confronted with a woman. They got touchy about such things.
So instead, he just nodded, and charged her lodging for two nights.
When she paid without blinking an eye, he showed her the book and had her sign. The name wasn't legible, but he didn't much care. Then he handed her the key to her room and gave her directions.
"Top of the stairs third door, 'keep. Got it." Starbuck smirked at him and swung the saddlebags over her shoulder, before heading towards the stairs.
If she played her cards right, she'd have enough time for a quick wash before coming down. Then she could fleece a few of the idiots, and consider exactly her next move with Sam Carter. The cool blonde's disdain was almost a challenge worth taking (and if it wasn't, she could still be amused at the way Miss Carter was flustered by the little things). Then again, the sheriff might frown upon her dallying with his daughter--she'd always been one to live a little dangerously, though.
-=-
"Hey, Sam." Jacob Carter strode into the front section of the sheriff's office and smiled at his daughter. She was looking poised and as neat as a pin. Sometimes, Jacob worried that she would scare men off with her brain and intelligence. And then he'd see her sitting, with her hands folded and her mouth in a neat smile, and he'd know no man would be able to resist her. Jacob himself was no slouch, though the years had weathered him, and there was no longer a youthful spring in his step. Still, he could keep up with anyone on horseback.
"Dad." Smiling, she stood, gathering her papers. "I'll leave you to your work here, and get supper started."
"Thank you, Sam."
"Oh, Dad," she stopped, fidgeting with her stack, arranging it just so, "that bounty hunter you hired is here."
"Starbuck?" Good. As soon as the man was given his particulars, Jacob would sleep easier, knowing he was hunting the band of robbers haunting the town.
"Yes." There was something odd in Sam's voice. Some hesitance.
"Well, where is he?"
"That's, uh, that's the thing, dad." Sam picked up her stack of papers, then seemed to come to a decision and said, "Starbuck's a woman."
"What?" He wondered if Sam were pulling his leg for a joke. He'd been pretty hard on her about her university ambitions, after all. It wasn't that he didn't want to support her, but he really didn't think any university would accept a woman into its class. She'd be so much happier if she'd just find a nice man and settle down.
"Starbuck's a woman, dad. I don't know who recommended her to you, but they apparently neglected to mention that."
"Damn right they did," he muttered, making a note to lambast O'Neill the next time their paths crossed. At Sam's censuring look, he flushed, "Sorry, Sam."
"You're the one who wants me to be a lady, dad," said Sam gently. "And if I'm going to not use language like that..."
"You know, your mother used to give me the same look." He smiled sadly. Catherine would have loved to see her daughter grow into womanhood. It was one of the things he regretted everytime he thought of her (when he let himself remember his wife, at least).
"Did she?"
"She did." He reached over and ruffled her hair, "Just yesterday, it seems like you were barely old enough to cook dinner, now you're off to some fancy college."
"Maybe off, I haven't been accepted yet."
"They'd be fools not to." Jacob wondered if his daughter knew how much he would miss her, and how much he hoped she'd meet a man there she could settle down with. He didn't think she'd appreciate him talking about grandchildren again. Even if he really did want to see her happy and settled. This scientist idea she had, he just didn't think it would wash.
Science was a man's world, and much as he hated for her to find that out, he hoped it happened before she had all of her dreams crushed.
"Maybe," something in her eyes told him Sam understood some of the things he thought.
"So, what's for supper?" he asked.
"Cold meat, potatoes and salad greens." Sam snorted. "That's really why you want me to go to university, so you can get better food."
"I'm not saying you can't cook," teased Jacob. He also wasn't saying he wanted her to go. But he'd learned long ago that taking against anything would put her back--she was just like her mother, in that respect. Ornery to the core, and he wondered if some of that wasn't his own fault.
"No, I'm saying it." She smiled and began gathering her papers. "I should go attend to that, I'm sure you have paperwork to do before you eat. Or you can check on Starbuck, and let her know whether you'll still be hiring her."
Jacob shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. On the one hand, Starbuck's reputation had preceded her. If she'd been a man, he'd have no qualms about hiring her. Since she wasn't... Well, perhaps he should meet her, and make certain she wasn't some whore tricked out to take his money. "If I hire her, Sam, I think I'll still have you brief her regarding what we know so far."
"All right, dad." Sam tucked her papers into the crook of her arm. "I'll go handle supper, you go visit Starbuck. And lock up the office."
The brisk efficiency of his daughter always reminded him of his wife. Catherine had been good at that sort of thing. "Yes, dear." He offered affectionately. Sam, of course, had made the efficiency her own, balancing it with numbers and a secret love of poetry.
Chuckling, Sam headed for the door.
Jacob checked his desk for mail, decided it could wait until the morning, and headed out to meet Starbuck.
-=-
She was as arrogant as he'd thought she'd be, though cleaner. And she wasn't ugly, even if she was young enough to be his daughter. Short, blonde, compact in a way Sam wasn't (even if he lamented Sam's height, he knew she was graceful and elegant). Her mother had been tall like that, too. They used to get teased because she was as tall as he was. Starbuck was presiding over a table of men, her hand of cards held carelessly in one hand, the other holding a half-smoked cigar.
"Well, gentlemen?"
Jacob watched her from the bar, reading her easily. She was like most men, in a way. Ignoring the shape of her, at least. Brash, impulsive, quick to anger--one of the men playing with her accused her of cheating and she punched him, knocking him out. The others dissolved into laughter as she called for another round.
There was nothing feminine about her, which worried Jacob, but he couldn't quite place why.
When he was tired of watching her, he walked over while the cards were being shuffled. "Starbuck?"
"You finally gonna stop watchin', old man?" Her smirk was amused as she looked at him. "Or is that the only way y'can get it to work for ya?" She winked.
He coughed. "I'm sheriff Carter. I believe I hired you?"
"Oh." She laughed, the sound raucous. "Pardon me for not getting up, but I'm a little busy earning some on the side."
"I see," he hooked his thumbs into his gun-belt and nodded at the other men at the table. "And are you confident that this--carousing--won't affect your ability to track down this gang?"
"Yes, sir," Starbuck said, trying to look solemn. "No affecting my abilities." She laughed again, the sound derisive. "Is that all, sir?"
"For the moment."
"Thank you, sir." She smirked, puckered her lips and blew him a kiss. "Gonna go back and tell Sam I'm fired?"
"No."
"Good. Because I'd still charge you." She picked up her cards, studied them a second, then winked at him. "Tell her I said 'hi'."
Deciding that leaving before he let the irritating woman get under his skin further was the better part of valor, Jacob departed the scene. For just a moment, it troubled him that the woman was calling his daughter by her first name, then he brushed it aside. Starbuck, after all, was just a woman in the end.
-=-
Sam was whistling off-key, hands busy with slicing the meat for supper when her father returned. She could hear him rummaging around in the small sitting room that doubled as a dining area before he stuck his head into the kitchen and sniffed.
"Smells good."
"Thanks." She tossed him a smile and went back to arranging supper. "So, are you going to keep her?"
"I think so. She's brash and arrogant, but she's supposed to be good."
"Ah." Glad she was facing the sink, Sam wondered if her father guessed how much it hurt that he was accepting this female bounty hunter, but wouldn't accept her ambitions as a scientist. It was a fleeting hurt, but it was there all the same. "That's good, I suppose."
"Well, pride is a sin."
"Yes."
"She said to tell you she said hi." Jacob said. He sounded confused, as though he couldn't fathom what she and Starbuck had in common. Sam thought about wearing trousers and carrying a gun, then told herself that was a silly ambition. Just let her get her hands on real laboratory equipment, and she'd be happy, skirts and petticoats and all.
For a moment, Sam could see the exact smirk that must have been on Starbuck's lips as she told her father that. Amused, superior, smug... "Did she? I guess she decided she liked me, then."
"How could anyone not like you, Sam?"
"I don't know." She smiled at him over her shoulder, then finished arranging the food and turned, platter in hand. "Supper will be served as soon as I pour the cider."
He smiled back and took the platter from her, "Why don't you pour while I set the table?"
-=-
Starbuck played through two more hands before tossing her cards down and stubbing her cigar out. The acrid smoke had stopped bothering her throat years ago, but for a moment, she thought about what it would be like for the stench to burn as it went down her throat. Thanks to the dingey bars she frequented, a never-ending haze of smoke clouded her eyes. It was why Starbuck liked being out in the open air, with nothing between her and the sky but the stars.
"You sure you wanna leave, Girly?" Manny Smith reached out to catch her wrist, leering without any finesse.
"Honey, I'm not sure of a lot of things, but there's one thing I do know." Starbuck leaned closer, twisting her hand around and digging her nails into his wrist. "Let me go, or I'll cut your tongue out."
Manny sneered at her, grip tightening, "You wouldn't dare, little girl--"
Slamming her fist into his face, she followed it up by yanking her wrist free and grabbing a knife off the table. "Wanna play, Manny? Or are you going to apologize?" The weight of the knife wasn't much, the blade was probably dull. But it would get the job done. Kara considered. She'd have to hold him down, sit on his chest and pull the tongue out to start with.
A hand grabbed the back of her vest, yanking her away from him.
Kara lashed out with her leg, knocking Manny from the chair while she twisted in John Carstairs' grip, trying to pull away.
This was just what she'd wanted: a fight. Something to work off her energy before falling into bed. Especially since the only interesting prospect for bedding had been Miss Samantha Carter, and Kara was pretty certain there was no way in hell that would happen. The thought of the delectable Miss Carter reminded her that the other woman was taller. Irritation flared irrationally, and she punched backwards over one shoulder, hitting Carstairs' nose.
He released her with a howl.
One of the other card players came at her, but Starbuck was ready this time. Her fists were up, and she feinted left before knocking his teeth out with a left hook her mama would have been proud of. If her mother would have been proud of anything Kara ever did.
The rest of the bar was getting into the fight, some of them throwing things at each other.
Starbuck threw back her head and laughed, then put her head down and tackled the nearest brawler, fists pounding into his face.
Something broke across her back, glass flying everywhere. Another body slammed into her, knocking her off the man beneath her and under the table. Starbuck rolled, landing on top and slamming his head into the floorboards, then pausing to eye the room before sliding out and grabbing the nearest chair, swinging it up and smashing it into Manny's back.
He went down, and she raised it to hit him again.
A gunshot went off, jerking them all to a halt as the sheriff and his deputies poured into the room, yelling, breaking up the fights.
Starbuck dropped her chair and stepped back to the bar, glass crunching her under her boots. She could feel the hits she'd taken start to sting, and there was blood dripping from a cut down the side of her face that she didn't remember getting.
"What the hell is going on here?" Sheriff Carter bellowed again, stopping in front of Starbuck and eyeing her.
The man hadn't liked her earlier, Starbuck was pretty sure he wasn't changing his opinion as he glared at her now. She put on her best sneer. "Just havin' fun, sheriff."
"Bitch--" One of the men shut up as the man next to him shoved him.
"Explain yourself, Starbuck," the sheriff said coldly. "I didn't hire you to come in and brawl, I hired you to track down a gang of criminals."
"The brawling comes free, sheriff." She smiled sweetly at him.
He glared at her, and raised his voice, "You're all spending the night in jail, in the morning, I'll have words with all of you and fines to place. Including you, missy."
"That's Starbuck to you, sheriff, and if you lock me up and fine me, I'm not so certain I'll stay here and track those criminals." It was shaky ground, and there hadn't been any contracts signed, but she could still walk out. If he let her.
"You think not, Starbuck?" His eyebrows went up, "I could have you thrown in jail for breach of contract, on top of starting a bar-fight. Think that fine would add to your reputation?"
Narrowing her eyes, Kara stood her ground, "You wouldn't dare."
"I'm the sheriff here, young lady. Don't tell me what I would and wouldn't do." There was a strain around his eyes. He continued, his voice lowering, "I hired you because I need your expertise, not your mouth, and not your pride. Either get that through your pretty head or I will see you locked up."
She could fight, or she could give in. Starbuck was never one to bluff. She shook her head. "Lock me up, then, sheriff. I ain't gonna be your hired whore."
He blinked at her, then nodded and turned away to begin ordering the rest of the men back to the sheriff's office and the jail.
Taking the moment to let herself relax, Kara sagged against the bar. Now that the adrenaline was gone, her back ached and her knuckles stung. Not to mention the still-dripping blood, and the nagging worry that she'd just made a huge mistake in pissing off the sheriff. She needed the job he'd offered. Sure, she could possibly find another job soon. But with actual charges hanging against her, they might not accept her as easily. Bounty hunters were a dime a dozen--the good ones were harder to find, but even so, you could only charge so much before they'd start looking elsewhere. There was always a man who'd charge just a little less than she could afford to.
Life was always treating her like this. Letting her think she'd gotten ahead and then yanking the carpet out from under her. She should, she reflected bitterly as she fell into line with the men being sent to jail, be used to this. Hope was pointless, and a waste of her time. She always screwed things up.
No matter how hard she tried.
The night air was cool, seeping into her bones and making her injuries ache more. Kara clamped her mouth closed, unwilling to even contemplate asking for a sawbones. After all, she'd made her bed, and she'd certainly had worse injuries. And at least this time she wasn't going to have to spend two days walking to town.
She remembered one of the nights of that journey as a hazy, pain-filled series of moments. Stumbling and getting up--forcing herself onwards because to lay down and sleep was to die. The morning had brought rain, making it worse. She'd been a wreck when she'd staggered into town and collapsed. The doctor had told her she was lucky to have survived.
Yeah. Lucky.
The dirt and gravel of the street crunched under her boots as she walked, the scent of dust reaching her nostrils and reminding her of a hundred nights and more sleeping under the stars.
A hand grabbed her arm as she started to enter the sheriff's office, the forceful halt jarred her and she winced slightly. Her memories fled, for the moment.
"Ma'am, sheriff says I was to detain you until he's finished with the others." The deputy told her, eyes widening as he looked her up and down.
Kara crossed her arms and returned the look, inch for inch. He was blushing when she looked at his face again. "Did he say why, Deputy?"
"No, ma'am." Reginald Bartlett cleared his throat, trying not to blush more.
Footsteps from nearby made Starbuck tense, and she half-reached for the gun at her hip before remembering that it wouldn't be a good idea to draw with the deputy standing right there.
"Reggie? Reggie, what's going on, I heard--" Samantha Carter stopped as she noticed Starbuck standing there. "You."
"Hey, honey. Did we drag you from your bed?" Unable to stop herself, Starbuck eyed Miss Carter in much the same way she'd eyed the deputy--except this time, she enjoyed it. From the top of her blonde head to the toes of her black boots, Samantha Carter was a looker. Her features were fine, with blue eyes that seemed to pinpoint you like you were a fly on a wall, and lips that just begged to be kissed. Her neck was slim and graceful, leading to neatly-squared shoulders. Kara paused her perusal to take in the hastily-buttoned bodice, noting the mis-match that showed a gap right above her breasts.
"I'll, uh, go tell the sheriff you're here," Deputy Bartlett fled, sure that his boss would want to know that his daughter was awake. Also, he had the strangest feeling they weren't paying him any attention, anyway.
"Stop looking at me like that."
Kara smirked, "Why?" Lingering for a moment on the pale skin she could just barely see, she wondered if Samantha Carter had forgotten to wear a shift in her haste.
"It's not proper. Now stop it."
"Proper?" Stepping closer, Kara lifted her eyes to Samantha's, "Samantha, honey, I'm fairly certain leaving yourself unbuttoned ain't proper." Her hand reached out, finger tracing just above the opening. "If you want, I can fix this for you." Though she'd really miss that flash of skin.
Color filled Sam's cheeks, and she jerked back.
Kara could hear her breathing change, quickening.
"I--" Quickly, Carter turned and faced the wall, fingers working to correct the problem without baring more of herself to public scrutiny. "I was in a hurry."
"Noticed, honey." Deciding that pressing closer wasn't an option, Kara took the time to study the back of Samantha's neck. It was just as flushed as her cheeks had been, and she wondered if the girl had any inkling of why Kara's touch had made her react so.
Most women wouldn't have cared, most would have brushed her hand off, laughed, and possibly simply apologized for their state of undress. Samantha's flustered response said a lot of things.
It possibly simply said she wasn't that worldly.
Turning around, Sam straightened her shoulders, the color leaving her cheeks. "Why are you here?"
"I'm getting thrown in jail, honey."
Sam's eyes flashed, "Stop calling me that."
Taking a risk, Kara stepped closer, "I could call you Samantha," she rolled the name around her tongue like a fine wine, her voicing dipping low.
Sam's tongue slipped out, sliding across her lips and Kara tracked the movement with her eyes as she swallowed, "No, call me Miss Carter."
"I think we're a little past such formality, honey. Your dad's throwin' me in jail." Kara smirked as she watched the pulse jump in Sam's throat. "If it helps, you could call me Kara."
"Jail?" Her head came up, and Sam blinked, "Why?"
"I started a fight, honey."
"Kara--you're injured," Sam's hand came up, her finger carefully traced the line of blood on Kara's temple. "That should be seen to."
"Nah, it's nothin'."
"Nothing?" Closing a hand on Kara's shoulder, Sam steered her into the lamplight spilling from inside the sheriff's office, "You've got a bruise and a cut." Briskly, she turned, pulling Kara with her, "I'll just take you upstairs and deal with that, and then bring you back here. Dad won't mind."
"Honey, do you think that's such a good idea?" Not that Kara wanted to resist, she allowed Samantha to take her around the corner and to a side door.
"You're injured." Sam said firmly. She was all brisk efficiency now, her uncertainty buried for the moment. She opened the door and led Kara up into the apartment she shared with her father. The lamp was set low, so she turned it up, then pushed Kara into a chair. "I'll get the medical kit."
Waiting for Sam to return, Kara glanced around the room. It wasn't cluttered, like most places she'd seen with women in charge of the household. Most of the furnishings were utilitarian in nature, with a few bright throws here and there. No fripperies, no lacey draperies. Kara's opinion of Sam rose even further. Frippery women annoyed her.
"There." Sam returned carrying a pile of cloths and a bowl of water, with a satchel over her shoulder. She bustled about, setting the bowl and cloths down and turning Kara's chair so that the light shone on the side with the wound. Then she carefully took Kara's chin and tilted her head, leaning close to study it for a moment. "It doesn't look deep, there's just quite a bit of blood."
Kara closed her eyes, breathing in Sam's scent. Lavender and sweat and something else that had to be her skin. It was intoxicating. "God, you smell good."
"Lavender," Sam replied, carefully using a damp cloth to wipe the blood from Kara's temple.
Wincing, Kara jerked her head away from the cloth.
"Don't move." Sam's grip on her chin tightened. "I'm being as gentle as a I can."
"Do you say that to all your patients?" Opening her eyes, Kara discovered that Sam was still leaning very close. Her nostrils flared, taking in the intermingled smells of Sam and blood.
"No."
"Good." Turning her head against Sam's grip, Kara leaned closer, intent on burying her nose in Sam's hair.
"What are you--" she froze as Kara's lips ghosted over the skin of her neck.
Pulling back, Kara smirked, "I said you smell good, honey. Thought I'd take advantage."
"I see." Sam carefully released her and pulled back. "I don't think you'll need stitches, though there may be a scar."
Kara shrugged, and winced, "Won't matter. It'll just be another one to add to the collection."
"Where else are you injured?"
"It's just bruises."
"Where else?" Sam crossed her arms, glaring.
Right then, Kara knew she was definitely Jacob Carter's daughter. She sighed, then winced again, "Bruised ribs, something on my back, maybe pulled muscles."
"Let me see."
Smirking again, Kara stood, "You want to strip me, Samantha?"
Her cheeks flushed again, but she stood her ground. "Shirt off, Kara."
"Anything for you, honey." Taking her time (more to keep from hurting than for show), Kara unbuttoned the vest and shirt then carefully shrugged them off with Sam's help. Then she was naked from the waist up except for the band of fabric binding her breasts down. Luckily, the room wasn't very cool, though the air still caused her skin to goosebump, the hair standing on end as Sam moved her, hands on her shoulders. Kara resisted the urge to tell prim Miss Carter to put her hands elsewhere. Her nipples hardened at the thought.
"You're right, mostly bruises, although I think something almost broke the skin here." Sam released one shoulder and stepped closer, finger tracing one particularly livid-looking weal on Kara's back.
Kara clamped her lips closed, and swallowed. The gentle touch did more than a hundred leers and sloppy kisses in the dark had, that was for certain. She throttled down her response, determined not to let Samantha figure out how much she affected her. "I think it was a bottle or a pitcher. Didn't stop to notice."
"Oh." Almost reluctantly, Samantha removed her hands, "You can dress now. Dad's probably wondering where you went."
"Probably thinks I skipped town," Kara joked, hiding the trembling in her hands by hurrying to pull her shirt and vest back on. Her nipples were still hard, and she brushed one while buttoning the shirt and had to bite her lip. Damn. No woman had affected her like this, ever. It was impossible and unthinkable, and she'd be damned if she let little Miss Samantha Carter get under her skin.
"No. He knows you're here to fulfill--"
"Honey, he's throwin' me in jail. I don't think he knows anything except that I'm a bastard and a woman." Kara turned, false bravado firmly in place. She smirked, "Now that we're done playin' hooky, you should probably take me back down there. Unless you want to play something else now."
The flush in her cheeks said Sam Carter had some inkling to what she was referring, but she said, "I'll take you down there. I'm not stupid enough to play cards with the likes of you."
"The likes of me?" Raising an eyebrow, Starbuck snorted, "Not bad, honey. But you've got to work on the indignation and moral outrage a little more. Maybe thump the bible a few times."
"Shut up." Sam stalked past her, and towards the stairs, giving Kara a nice view of her neck again.
As she followed Sam down, she wondered what would happen if she kissed the skin at the nape--just brushed the wisps of hair to the side and slid her lips across the soft skin there. She could take in the scent of Sam and lavender again.
Never one to run from a challenge, Kara sped up, catching Sam before she could open the door. Being one step up gave her the height advantage, and her fingers slipped into Sam's hair, brushing the strands away from her neck as she let her thumb over the patch of skin there. No kissing, not yet--Kara might be bold in some matters, but in others, she refused to be like her male counterparts.
"Oh." Sam said softly, the sound almost a sigh.
Kara brought her other hand up to clasp Sam's shoulders, fingernails digging in just a little as she let her fingers combing through the loose tendrils, pulling more from the hasty arrangement at the back of her neck. "You were returning me to your father," she whispered, voice husky.
"Right. Yes."
Kara trailed a finger across Sam's throat. "Door, Samantha. Open it."
Shaking herself, Sam yanked open the door and stepped out as if propelled, "Right. This way. Dad's probably--"
"Sam!" Jacob Carter came hurrying up, "Sam, Reginald said--" He broke off and glared at Kara, "Thought you'd hide until I'd forgotten you?"
"Dad--"
"Sheriff," Kara interrupted, moving past Sam, "Your daughter was kind enough to tend to my wounds, nothing more." She held out her hands. "Now, where would you like to lock me up?"
He glared harder, "I don't take kindly to--"
"DAD," Sam interrupted him, hands on her hips, "She was injured. I merely tended her injuries. And you can't be serious about locking her in a cell tonight, not with half the men in this town locked up with her. That wouldn't be right!"
"Stamp your foot, honey, you didn't sound self-righteous enough," Kara suggested, amused.
"You be quiet," she snapped. "Dad, I think you should just send her back to her room, and dock part of her contract for the disruption she caused."
Dock part of her pay? Oh, now the woman was getting on her nerves. "Now, wait--"
Jacob held up a hand, smirking at Kara, "Sometimes, my daughter's smarter than me. She's going to university, you know." He beamed at Sam, "That'll work, sweetie. I'll just escort her to the motel and make sure she doesn't run off."
"Fine."
Kara opened her mouth to object again, then closed it at the resolute look he turned on her. Fine. She fumed all the way back to the hotel. And after she'd flirted, too! That interfering, irritating, priggish--yet hot--woman!
Part Two