Fic: Bandits at Twelve O'Clock, PG13/R, Alternate Universe, Part 2
Disclaimers on Part One.
Back to Part One
Sam was restless, her body still awake when her mind kept saying she should sleep. Pictures and images of the day that had passed were torturing her--Starbuck's smirk kept floating back to her. Kara's fingers on her neck...
The sensation had made her catch her breath, made her want to turn and--the idea of Kara's fingers on more than just her neck excited her, made her ache between her legs. Those fingers skimming down Sam's chest, her lips following (Sam wasn't entirely sure how Kara's lips would feel brushing over more than her knuckles, but she rather thought she'd like to find out).
Determined to put the other woman out of her head, Sam turned onto her back and stretched, then pulled her nightgown up, exposing legs and chest to the night air. She focused on the feel of her sheets beneath her, the way the slightly worn linen shifted along her skin, almost caressing it. Next she pulled her legs up, flattening her feet and letting the material of her blanket tickle her toes. It was a deliberate exercise, one she'd used before to relax. Bringing her hands down, she stroked them down her sides, feeling the slight calluses on her hands catching slightly on her skin.
Not really a lady, the thought came to her. Too many rides bareback and too fast, too many words written or sketches of purported particles made with her pen. If the light were on, there'd be ink staining the tips, too.
Ladies had smooth skin, they rode side-saddle, and they didn't write scientific dissections of the world around them.
Angry, Sam shoved the thought away and concentrated on her body again. Hands on her stomach, fingers flexing, causing her nails to scrape gently. Her skin tingled slightly, and Sam wondered if this was what a cat felt when you stroked it.
The thought made her flush and pause. What was she doing, thinking about Kara and kisses?
With a mumbled epithet, she turned on her side, determined to put the entire day out of her mind. Closing her eyes firmly, she began counting elements, and when that failed, designing machinery to do her father's job.
Sam fell asleep around the time that her father was riding a mechanical horse powered by rockets.
But what she dreamt about was a splash of color and movement, and the feel of her fingers between her legs.
-=-
"Oh, Kara..."
Drifting awake from a rather pleasant dream involving Miss Sam Carter, a large bed and several bottles of good wine, Kara smirked a little. Her imagination was running riot tonight, and she had only herself to blame. If she hadn't been close enough to Sam to smell that mingled lavender and skin, she would never have dreamt of it.
Probably. Content to just lay there, drowsily thinking of what curves she could discover under Sam's dress, Kara was brought wide awake by a crashing sound from below as someone dropped something in the bar. Her hand reached for the pistol she'd left in its holster--in the dim light, she could see the belt hanging on the chair.
With a curse, Kara scrambled from the bed and grabbed it, muttering about idiots and cold floors.
She bet Sam Carter's floor wasn't cold. Or her bed. That thought restored her to pleasant musings, and she curled back into bed, fingers teasing at the skin of her hip.
Perhaps she could use the moment to her advantage. Allowing her dream to return to the fore-front of her mind, Kara shifted onto her back. There were many uses for her hands, after all. The pistol made a click when she lay it on the bedside table.
She could have it up again in an instant, if she needed it, and with the chair she'd left under the doorknob, she'd have plenty of time.
-=-
The morning was barely started when Jacob Carter got himself down to his office to process the men in his cell. There were the usual hangover complaints, and at least one had managed to be sick in the slops bucket, but for the most part, they were docile and sent on their way without too much trouble. Once the books were closed on that, Jacob got together the file on Tom Zarek and his outlaws, and waited for Starbuck to show her face.
If she were smart, she'd be there just after the sun was up, ready to go and willing to work for him without complaint.
If she weren't, and he had his doubts, she'd drag herself in around noon.
Jacob sincerely hoped it was the latter so he could sever the contract and see her to the edge of town. He wanted this woman gone, though why he wasn't sure other than that she was a trouble-maker.
They needed less trouble-makers in Colorado Springs, not more.
When Starbuck didn't appear immediately, Jacob made a mental note and settled in to finish off his correspondence. The local circuit judge preferred Sam's penmanship, but Jacob didn't see the need to wake her when she'd been up all night.
Besides, if she really were leaving, the judge would just have to learn to live with his handwriting.
-=-
Sam had no idea why she was doing this.
Normally up with the sun, she'd found herself awake even earlier, listening as her father tried to be quiet (and failed) before he was gone. Giving him time to really be in his office, she'd then gotten up and dressed in the early morning light, then brushed her hair, staring in the mirror but not really seeing herself.
She'd chosen a practical, divided skirt for riding and heavy boots before donning a blue blouse and her leather vest. With its pockets and extra straps, it was useful for all sorts of activities. She fingered the magnifying glass her father had gotten her for Christmas, then left it behind on her bureau--after all, she wasn't planning on any scientific excursions that day.
Her footsteps were soundless as she walked the packed earth of the street, avoiding the already-plentiful horse droppings as she made her way in the side entrance of the Cherry-Red.
"Good morning, John," she smiled at Tyrol. "Where'd you put our latest trouble-maker?"
He grimaced, obviously not pleased to be awake at such an early hour. But an inn didn't run itself, and ever since his wife had run off, he'd been short on help. "Normal room for Sheriff's lot."
"Thanks. She's not awake, is she?"
"Nope. Not heard a peep since she got back last night." His scowl deepened, "Sheriff owes me for th' damages, Miss Carter."
"I know. We'll add it to her bill."
He harrumphed. "Good."
Sam gave him a soft smile, "I'm sorry for the trouble she's caused. I should go roust her out of bed, though. The sun is up and, as dad always says..."
"Time's a-wastin'."
Leaving him in a possibly better mood, Sam slipped up the back stairs and made her way to the room the sheriff always hired for out-of-town help. The circuit judge got the best room (two doors from the back stair, with rumors that the president had stayed there once), but the one near the top was slightly scruffy. And cheap.
Sam scratched at the door. When there was no answer, she knocked firmly.
When there was still no answer, she knocked again. There were no other people in the hallway, so she took the chance and turned the knob.
"Wait." The voice from the other side of the door was muffled, and Sam waited as something was dragged across the floor, and presumably, away from the door.
It opened under her hand and Starbuck stared at her, looking tired and surprised. The expression shifted into something half-heartedly smug, then faltered. "Come to evict me?"
"No." Sam pushed the door open further, but still found herself stepping much too close to the other woman for her own comfort. A rush of memory reminded her of her dreams of the night before, and she found herself flushing. To cover the color in her cheeks, she moved to the tiny window and opened the curtain. "I came to wake you. Dad doesn't like slugabeds, so unless you want the contract broken, I'd suggest you get dressed and come with me for your briefing."
"Do you like sleeping in, Samantha?" Starbuck seemed delighted to ask such a slightly scandalous question, though she moved away and began dressing with a brisk efficiency.
There was some practicality in the woman after all, Sam decided. Being a bounty hunter was her bread and butter. Scorning a job to sleep in would see her reputation take a dive. Curious, Sam turned to regard her, not realizing she was half-naked until she did so. Her question about becoming a bounty hunter was lost as her eyes widened.
She'd seen other women naked before, usually when she was younger--or they were--and of course she'd seen herself in mirrors and the bath. But she'd never really seen a woman standing topless with such utter ease.
"Can you help me with this?"
Sam blinked, sucking in a deep breath. "What?" Her eyes flew to Starbuck's, to find her almost laughing.
"I need help binding myself. It's easier than trussing myself into a corset for the day--and easier to pass as a man, if I need to," she added, holding up the white bandaging she'd obviously been planning to wrap around herself.
Truly, it was the most bizarre situation Sam had ever found herself in. She felt light-headed for a moment before taking herself in hand and grasping the fabric, "You'll have to guide me, at first," she said, hearing the breathless tone in her voice, but unable to escape the feeling that she'd run a race and passed the finish line too quickly.
"It's the first rotation or two that are hardest. Here, start--" Starbuck's hand guided hers and she didn't seem to notice when Sam's suddenly-cold fingers touched her heated skin.
"There. Yes." Blind for a moment, Sam closed her eyes, swallowed, and then gritted her teeth to do what she had to do. Once she began moving around Starbuck, the fabric tightening over her skin, listening as the other woman directed the lay and tension of the bandaging, she lost some of her own tension.
Around and around until Starbuck's pink-tipped breasts were bound in a manner which gave them support, but didn't hinder movement while at the same time almost minimizing them. If she weren't fond of her own corsets, Sam might have almost been jealous of the thing.
"Thank you," Starbuck said suddenly, grabbing the last of the bandaging and stepping away to watch herself in the mirror as she finished the job, tucking the end in neatly. "It wouldn't have managed to be quite this flat and smooth, without your help."
Her fingertips still tingling a little, Sam scrubbed them against her vest. She startled as she realized her own nipples were tight with tension, then released a breath. "I hope this won't take much longer. My father--"
"Don't like to be kept waitin'. I know, honey."
And just like that, the strange atmosphere was gone. Sam narrowed her eyes, "My name is--"
"Samantha."
"Miss Carter, to you."
Starbuck laughed as she buttoned up her loose-sleeved shirt. "You've had your hands on my tits, Sam. I don't think 'Miss Carter' is appropriate anymore."
"I have not--" Glaring, Sam headed for the door, "I'd suggest not wasting anymore time."
"Goin' somewhere?"
"I have things to attend to." An application to finish, for instance. Sam was determined to see herself in a respectable university, learning about science and the world. This, this dallying with a woman no better than an outlaw was ridiculous.
She didn't slam the door as she left, though she was tempted.
-=-
Well. Kara let out the breath she'd been holding and sagged down to sit on the bed. Holy gods, that had been stupid. She buried her face in her hands and tried not to think about all of the heated images parading across her brain. Little Miss Sam Carter with her cool fingers and uninterested gaze had tugged at Kara until she'd been tempted to push her up against the wall and kiss her senseless.
And that wouldn't do at all, considering the girl was from such a strait-laced town. And her father! He'd probably have Kara run out of town or burned at the stake if he had any idea of her attentions towards his daughter.
Not that she had any.
Letting out a groan, she dropped backwards, arms splaying out. And now she was keyed-up and aching in a way that would take too long to deal with (if she wanted to pay proper attention). What she needed was a man, a nice, fast ride, no names--it would cool her down and wipe the image of Samantha Carter on her back, legs spread wide out of Kara's head.
Instead, there was a job to do. Getting a roll in the hay could wait until she'd tracked these bandits to their lair and gotten her money.
Kara stood up and finished dressing before making sure she'd left nothing in the room she couldn't replace easily.
The sheriff's office was already open, just waiting to receive her. Standing outside of the building, she thought of all the times she'd ended up there as a young woman, how often she'd found herself on the wrong side of the law before she'd begun to realize that there was more profit in being on the side of stars and government. Not that Kara really cared about their rules, but they were easy to enforce, and even easier to make a profit from. If one were careful.
She pushed opened the door and stepped inside briskly, "Sheriff. My apologies for making you wait, but I haven't had a decent bed in months."
Giving him a brief smile, she sat in the chair in front of his desk and waited for him to give her the information she needed.
He gave her a look of annoyance before following her lead and turning business-like. Leaning across the desk, he handed her a file. "This is all of the information we have on Tom Zarek and his gang. As you can see, Zarek is wanted in five of the surrounding states, and may possibly be wanted in connection with robberies in more."
There wasn't much in the file, but there was a comprehensive list of items stolen from farmsteads and ranches in the area. Kara noted horses and things large enough to need wagons with her eyebrows raising. "All this stuff, and you still can't find him?" That sort of outlay would require storage, roads, all sorts of things that should be easy to track.
For an instant, the sheriff looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid we simply don't have the manpower to mount that kind of search. There's lot of open land out there, Thrace. It's why we've hired you." Though that was obviously in doubt now, thanks to her little escapade of the night before.
"What's the matter, sheriff, they got you on the payroll?" Kara asked, more to see his reaction than because she believed he was corrupt. Jacob Carter was the sort of man who made her teeth hurt with his sincerity.
Eyes narrowing with anger, he snorted, "Don't try to provoke me, Starbuck. Get yourself on the trail of these thieves and I'll think about not mentioning your inability to live a disciplined life when on the job."
The threat against her reputation wasn't that great, but it was still on the tip of Kara's tongue to say something scathing. As much as she wouldn't mind getting kicked out of Colorado Springs, and didn't really think it would damage it, she still didn't want to leave. Not yet, at least. Not with Miss Samantha Carter such an intriguing possibility. Then again, perhaps getting out of town as fast as possible would be the best thing for the both of them.
She leaned back in her chair and sorted through the papers, scanning the words and map-lines quickly, before she stood and spread the folded map out. "So, there's roads out towards the springs and the mountains, and that's mostly where they've been preying on shipments and the mail coach, correct?"
"We've tried setting ambushes--"
"Yes, your notes said." Kara traced the line of the road, eyes catching the emptiness around it. "Looks like I'll have my work cut out for me. They've probably got half a dozen little hidey-holes all along here. And once we get into the mountains... well, I may be gone for a few days while I hunt."
"Take all the time you think you'll need." It was obvious that the sheriff wasn't exactly giving her a compliment. He expected her to be unable to find them.
Kara smiled and folded the map again, "I'll borrow this and add to it my observations along the way. I should get going, Pyramid and I have a long day ahead of us." She didn't offer to shake his hand again.
Being a bounty hunter hadn't been Kara's original goal in life. When she was five, she wanted to be a ballet dancer, thanks to an image in a newspaper. At eight, she'd wanted to be a bareback horseback rider doing tricks in the circus (her mama regretted that little field-trip when Kara broke her arm trying one of the maneuvers). At eleven, she'd seriously talked about being a teacher, claiming she'd be much better than the old preacher was.
By the time she'd turned fifteen, Kara had tried and discarded half a dozen careers, and her mother had gotten tired of her fits and starts. On the street at sixteen, she'd fallen in with a robber gang, her fingers quick and her feet quicker.
When a federal marshal took the gang in, she turned state's evidence to avoid jail time and ended up running with a friend of the marshal's. He'd said one good turn deserved another, and there'd been something in her that'd made him think her redeemable.
Kara was never sure if Bill Adama was right or not, but she'd found that it didn't matter. Learning to track and shoot, to ride like a demon and punch like a ranch-hand had suited her. When he'd finished with her training, Jack O'Neill had turned her loose on the world, getting her reputation started with a small smuggler in Newport. He hadn't cared that she was a woman and Kara hadn't cared that he didn't talk about his past.
Nowadays, she occasionally got a one-line letter from him, when she thought to check in with the post box she'd taken a little over two years ago. Her mama sometimes wrote, too. They got along better, now they weren't forced to live on the same farm.
But she wasn't about to explain all of that to Jacob Carter. It wasn't his business, and he wouldn't care anyway. Kara left him to his paperwork and headed for the inn, determined to be on the trail of Zarek and his men as soon as she could be. She was a little disappointed not to run into Miss Samantha on her way, but one couldn't have everything.
-=-
Kara Thrace wasn't anything to do with her, Sam reminded herself as she stood at the upstairs window, watching Kara walk down the street. Well, not walk, saunter was a better word for the way Kara moved. But it didn't matter what she was doing, she was there to do a job, and nothing else.
Firmly turning away, Sam moved to sit at the desk and pulled out the sheets of paper she needed to finish writing upon. The application wouldn't do itself, and if she wanted to learn the less quixotic ways of science, and the discipline required in a real laboratory, she would need to apply herself to getting it finished. And she did want that. As much as she would miss Colorado Springs, the thought of mixing chemicals and learning titrations (as a stepping-stone to her own researches) was exciting.
While she worked on the application, her mind drifted to daydreams of a lab of her own. She'd have an assistant, and as much raw material as she needed. She'd find out how various interactions could cause a woman to fly, or perhaps be invisible. Turning lead to gold was the alchemist's dream, but in her world it could be possible.
Pulling herself back to reality, Sam finished her application and the letter of request and sat back, studying them for a moment before she bundled them up and addressed them neatly.
Then she headed down to the general store and post office, determined that the whole thing would be out of her mind before the morning was over.
Once that was done, she lingered in the store, eyeing the glass tubing that had come in for Doc. She wouldn't steal his equipment, but she would consider all of the uses it could have. Her mind was trying to decide between a new type of electrical generator and distillation when she was interrupted.
"Pardon, Miss Carter."
It was Carstairs, one of the brawlers of the night before. Samantha was inclined to dislike him on principle, but decided that she couldn't blame him for Starbuck's incivility. "Mr. Carstairs."
He smiled, then said, "Fine day we're havin'."
"Yes," she agreed, eyes straying to the bright sunlight pouring over the street. It would be time to bring her father his noon meal soon. "Was there something you wanted?"
The pleasant look disappeared as he shook his head, as though he'd expected something more of her, though what, Sam couldn't say. "I just wanted to greet a pretty lady on this fine day."
The badly-delivered compliment made her wince internally. Even Deputy Quinn was better with them, and he always stumbled over metaphors! "Yes. If you'll excuse me, I should be checking on my father."
"Oh." He stepped aside, then back, almost pushing her into the glass case. "I was wondering, Miss Carter--"
Sam adroitly twisted free of the case and Carstairs, "My father is waiting for me."
"That bounty hunter's here 'bout Zarek, ain't she?" He sniggered a little, as though the idea of a female bounty hunter was too entertaining and laughable for words.
"You would have to ask the sheriff," Sam replied, emphasizing his title. Really, she ought to tell her father the man was slimy and not-very-nice. But she was a woman grown, and it wouldn't do to make him get over-protective when she'd just convinced him she could live in a strange city all on her own. "Good day to you."
She escaped into the sunlight before he could try to detain her further.
-=-
By midday, Kara was closer to the mountains than she thought she'd have to go to find traces of the outlaws. According to the notes and maps, the area had already been swept, but Kara was nothing if not thorough. She paused on a slight rise and stood in the stirrups, trying to get a feeling for the lay of the land. Unfortunately, she wasn't high enough for it to do her much good, but she did spot a tree leaning a little oddly. Nudging Pyramid closer to that side of the road, she discovered a clever screen of underbrush and fallen branches that hid a trail from the road.
Dismounting, she slipped inside the tree line and bent to inspect the area, pacing around it. A little way from the road, the trail spread to accommodate large objects. Wagons had left tracks, some of them relatively recent. She kicked at one and looked back towards Pyramid and the road. She could barely see him, and the road was merely a memory.
Very smart, then, she decided as she made her way back to her horse. Zarek wasn't just a common bandit, he was a planner. Kara shook her head and mounted, before grinning and nudging Pyramid towards this new trail. It might be folly to track them without at least letting the sheriff know what she'd found, but she wasn't sure that it mattered.
It wouldn't take long to follow the trail to its end and return to report.
While she rode, she kept an eye out for movement. There were the usual animals that fled across the path, once or twice, and the birds chirped and twittered, but Kara saw nothing human before she found the end of the trail.
The path led in a fairly straight direction towards the foothills, rising and falling with the grade of the land. Gradually, Kara realized that she was approaching something. An impression spurred on by the glint of sunlight off metal. There weren't supposed to be farms or homesteads out this way, which meant there was someone out there who shouldn't be.
Reining Pyramid to a halt, she studied the ground ahead, and the structure she'd been seeing in the distance finally resolved itself.
It was a box canyon, the sides not quite equal as they rose up into the foothills that bracketed the area.
Deciding to try to be a little stealthier, though she needed proof that this was the outlaws' lair, Kara left Pyramid in a copse and crept forward carefully, watching for signs of habitation and movement. When she saw none of the latter, she got as close as she could, peering into the canyon and finding the telltale signs of an encampment. Near one ledge were broken-down tents. A blackened area was large enough for a sizable cookfire, though it was out for the moment. At night, the smoke rising from it might not even be noticeable.
There were marks from wagons going in and out, and the occasional impression of hooves, as well.
Kara congratulated herself as she slowly made her way back to Pyramid. She'd done what she'd set out to do: she'd found the smugglers' base. While she did wonder a little about it being empty, she didn't let that stop her from remounting and making her way back down the trail.
It was possible Zarek and his men were off raiding one of the distant farms, but Kara figured that, given their recent haul, they were probably taking it somewhere to sell off. Maybe towards the border to the south, maybe towards the north. She discounted the idea they'd head west with it. Not enough cash in that arena to justify going over the mountains. She shot the peaks a glance, gaze traveling across the snow tipping them. Not yet, at least.
Zarek might be planning on doing that eventually; getting enough for a stake out west where he'd be able to charge the settlers more than they could afford.
Not that it was any skin off her nose. Kara paused to pull out sheriff Carter's map and scrawl some notes on the location in her untidy handwriting before she patted Pyramid and gave him a nudge to move him on. She'd take it easy, making her way back. Wouldn't want to let the sheriff believe she could pull miracles from her hat.
This had taken her barely half a day, and she had to wonder a little if her jab at him about taking money from Zarek wasn't off the mark. Someone should have been able to find that canyon, and yet no one had.
Frowning, she urged Pyramid on a little faster, suddenly beginning to doubt that this was all on the up and up. If Zarek had someone in his employ in the town, it would explain the sheriff's inability to find the gang. Say the person was a deputy, who took the western searches, Kara bet he'd be able to keep people from finding the traces of wagons and horses, and he'd make doubly sure that no one wandered too close to that box canyon.
She wondered if the sheriff had any idea. As much as she might be willing to suspect him, Sheriff Carter was the sort of upright, law-abiding man who made an excellent sheriff and a lousy outlaw. She just couldn't imagine him being on Zarek's payroll.
That left deputies, or men drafted into search parties.
A sound made her jump, and she scanned the woods as she tried to increase Pyramid's speed, veering closer to the trees, so as to make a more difficult target. But there were too many trees and too much underbrush to make it wise to gallop. Laming her horse wouldn't do her much good.
Color exploded out of the air to their right, and Pyramid reared up in surprise as four men rode towards them, guns out as they swiftly crowded close.
"Now, where you be goin' so fast, honey." The man in the lead looked vaguely familiar, but then, broken teeth and scruff were common among outlaws.
Kara snorted. "I was thinking of spending some of the money I won offa your friends last night." It was worth a shot in the dark, after all.
"We don't have time for this," one of the others said, his tone impatient. "Blaine, take Griffin and ride for Zarek. We'll see to it our new friend doesn't manage to escape."
He was leering, too. And more effectively.
Kara nudged Pyramid in the side and he jumped into movement, but not fast enough for her to avoid the rifle-butt smashing into the back of her head.
-=-
After lunch, Sam decided to shake some of her restlessness out by riding. She saddled up Chief and headed towards the distant mountains. Her father had been busy with his paperwork, and she'd wondered a little about how he'd fare without her.
But he'd managed without her mother, she decided. They both had.
Her thoughts swirled around memories of her mother and an idea about mechanizing writing, so her father wouldn't have to use a pen until she'd been riding for longer than she'd planned.
The smell of wood smoke drew Sam from her thoughts with an abruptness that made her tense--there should be no one out here, she'd deliberately chosen the emptier route. Pulling Chief to a halt, she cast around, trying to spot the location of the fire. Instinct told her that it wasn't the forest on fire, and she found the trail of smoke nearby. Curiosity sent her closer, but she moved as quietly as she and Chief could manage.
Voices reached her before she found the fire. Their low sound muffled her approach.
It wasn't so much of a camp as a random fire in a clearing, with three horses on the other side, one of them still tacked-up, his saddlebags full. There were two men by the fire, arguing about something, and a slumped figure on the ground. Sam had no way of knowing, but given their generally unkempt appearance and the fact that this was an uncharted and unclaimed territory, it seemed obvious that they were a part of Zarek's gang. Or other outlaws working on their own.
But the latter seemed unlikely. Still, the slumped figure on the ground was definitely a bound Starbuck, and Sam found that she didn't want to leave her like that to take the time to ride for more help.
There were only two of them, and they were distracted with their argument.
With that decision made, Sam pulled her shotgun free of the holster in her saddle and aimed at the fire. Kara was further away from it, so she felt no compunction with shooting into the flames, causing a chemical reaction that sent the fire into a sparking frenzy.
The men reacted predictably, trying to put the fire out and cursing. Sam rode into their camp, rifle at her shoulder, Chief a little upset, but behaving himself. Starbuck surged to her feet with a look of surprise that turned into a grin when she recognized Sam.
The sheriff might have very firm views on the life a woman should lead, but he'd always made certain his daughter could ride as well as shoot. Sam aimed the rifle at the man who was closer to her as he turned, his pistol already out. "Drop it, or I drop you."
"Now why--" he began, leering up at her as though she weren't holding a shotgun.
Sam had never shot a human being before, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to again, but she also knew that letting him call her bluff would give him the advantage. She winced a little as she fired, the rifle shot suddenly excruciatingly loud in the small clearing. The man collapsed, howling in agony over his ruined hand.
"You could live, you get to Doc in time," Sam said, her voice curiously breathless. She gestured with her rifle at the second man, "Help him bandage his hand."
"Why?" sounding scornful, Starbuck retrieved one of their pistols. Sam wasn't surprised that she'd managed to untie herself. "Letting him bleed out would do the world a favor."
"That--"
It happened faster than Sam was expecting. The second man grabbed for his own pistol and turned to fire at them, apparently thinking that if he knocked Sam from her horse, Starbuck would come willingly.
Starbuck shot him through the head.
Getting her lungs to move again, Sam swore, then blushed.
Looking at her with something like amusement, Kara moved away and retrieved her horse from the picket line of three. She mounted and took up the reins of the other two, as well. "If you're thinking of ways to take the men with us--"
Whatever Starbuck had planned to say was drowned out by the sound of hoofbeats nearby.
The odds of them being good guys were slim, and they both knew it.
"Frak, c'mon!" Kara said distinctly before she dropped the extra reins and kicked Pyramid into motion, tearing across the campsite and towards the trail Sam had come up on from the road.
Sam didn't waste time shouting in annoyance. Bending low over Chief's neck, she followed the bounty hunter as she broke out onto the trail. There were shouts behind them as the rest of Zarek's band poured into the clearing, too late to catch them.
That didn't stop them from firing after them, and Sam felt Chief stiffen in fright before his speed increased and he shouldered ahead of Pyramid.
"Road's too open, Sam!" Kara called, her voice too-loud.
"I know--" trying to ignore the panic coursing through her, Sam let Chief plunge onto the road then forced him up the slight incline on the other side, finding another trail. The sound of gunfire came from behind them and Sam risked a glance over her shoulder to find that Zarek's men had broken out of the tree line on the other side of the road.
Faster, she silently urged Chief, bending even lower and hoping she knew this area better than the men behind them did.
Sam had grown up riding the trails around Colorado Springs, and her father had always insisted she stay on the well-traveled paths. But as she'd grown older, she'd found herself taking the barely-visible game trails that he wouldn't want her on, considering them dangerous to a young woman alone. Sam didn't know if they were, and at the time hadn't really cared. She'd enjoyed the challenge, and now she was grateful she had.
Even with her knowledge of the area, she almost missed the branching of the trail, kneeing Chief into a sharp turn that sent earth flying from his hooves.
Glancing back, Sam was grimly pleased to see Starbuck and Pyramid keeping up with them.
The trail went up over a ridge and dropped down the other side before meandering aimlessly in the opposite direction of town until it hit a brook.
Sam had to restrain Chief's intention of stopping for a long drink as she made him trot up the waterway. It wouldn't keep Zarek from finding them forever, not if he scoured the area looking for them, but Sam did hope that they'd lose their trail for at least a little while.
After a mile, she led them up the same side they'd come down.
Still in silence, they rode as quietly and quickly as they could, both listening for their pursuers.
The sounds of other horses had disappeared before they'd reached the brook, and there was nothing but the rustle of the wind in the trees when Sam silently signaled a halt. Birds were whistling somewhere close. A robin, from the angle of the sun and time of year.
"Nice trick with the creek," Starbuck murmured.
Sam shrugged, "Dad's always got federal marshals talking about tracking when they're over for dinner. They think I don't listen. Anyway, we can make our way back to town if we follow this. It'll take a little longer than the road, but hopefully they'll think we doubled-back to take the easier route."
"Might not make it that far, Sam."
Frowning, Sam turned to look at her and bit off an exclamation. Blood streaked the side of Kara's shirt and splattered Pyramid's haunches. "You've been shot."
"No shit."
"You must not be a very good bounty hunter," Sam said reprovingly, trying to keep her stomach under control as her senses rebelled from the smell and sight of Kara's blood. "I thought getting shot would be top of your list of things not to do."
Kara snorted, then winced, "You'd be surprised. I think you'd better find us a place to hole up for a few hours--least until you dig the bullet out."
Eyes wide, Sam shook her head, "I'm not a doc, Starbuck."
"Yeah, I know that. But you're all I got. So, any place we can stop for a rest?"
Sam closed her eyes and thought for a moment, trying not to smell the blood now that Kara was so close and the wind wasn't rushing past them. "There's an abandoned farm not too far away."
"Make a great hideout for bandits."
Her sarcasm wasn't lost on Sam. Her eyes snapped open, "I know that, but it's what we've got. 'Sides, I don't think they'd use the cow-shed. It's nowhere near the other buildings and it's in pieces."
"Pieces ain't gonna be too useful, then."
"Rest of the farm's in pieces, too. Burned down two years ago, and no one's taken over the land since. Now stop arguing and follow me before you pass out." Sam nudged Chief into motion again, wondering if she were more annoyed that Kara'd been shot or that she'd have to dig the bullet out.
-=-
Ambushed, tied-up and shot. Not to mention rescued by the sheriff's daughter. Kara would have laughed in annoyance if she hadn't been in so much pain. Every movement Pyramid made jarred her shoulder until she wished it to go numb even if it meant she lost the thing.
Samantha's shed barely qualified as such a structure anymore, and it lay off the path a good ways, leaving a quantity of broken foliage in their wake. Kara wasn't too far gone to realize it would be an excellent road-map to their little hideaway. "Sam," she murmured before the other could dismount, "You need to lay a trail away from here. Make it look like we didn't even stop."
There was silence before Sam looked at her, worry in her eyes. "Will you be all right while I'm gone?"
"Of course." Kara was planning on dismounting and getting an actual look at the damage to her shoulder, if it were possible. Her hand and fingers still mostly worked, but that could be from sheer force of will.
Sam gave a nod and then turned Chief towards the gap across from where they'd entered the shed's yard.
Watching Sam disappear made Kara's gut clench in worry. She tried to reassure herself that Sam was smart, she wouldn't get caught--she'd be back. She wouldn't ride away and leave Kara behind.
Resolutely pushing the idea to the back of her head, Kara nudged Pyramid closer to the shed and dismounted by swinging her left leg over and sliding off. Landing on the ground jarred her shoulder and she went to her knees, stifling a yelp of pain as best she could. The world swam for a moment before she managed to grasp the stirrup and haul herself upright again.
"Good boy," she murmured, patting Pyramid's neck before she led him through a gap in the shed wall. It would be best to be out of sight if anyone did come looking for them.
Tethering him in the corner, Kara debated, then loosened his saddle a little. He needed a good rest and a rub-down, but it would have to wait. She pulled the rifle the bandits hadn't taken from the holster and left it sitting near one of the broken windows. It wouldn't take her long to drop to her knees there and take it up, even if she wasn't sure her shoulder would support firing the thing.
With a sigh, she pulled the medical kit from her saddle bag. She'd pushed off the inevitable long enough. Moving into the light falling through the largest hole in the ceiling, Kara knelt and began unbuttoning her shirt.
A sound had her on her feet and heading for the window before Sam Carter and Chief slipped inside through a different gap in the wall.
"I laid a trail to the path that led to the farmhouse," Sam murmured, "It's still packed earth and doesn't really take prints well."
"Good job."
Sam tethered Chief next to Pyramid and loosened his saddle as well before she came towards Kara. "Your shoulder needs to be seen to."
Since she was a little white around the mouth, Kara wondered exactly how much of this Sam was looking forward to. "We'll need flame to sterilize the knife," Kara told her, ruthlessly smothering her own worries.
"I've a candle I can light--a fire might attract attention." Sam somehow seemed to be brisk and efficient, getting Kara to sit on the remains of a watering trough that had been turned on its face at some point. It was a good makeshift bench, if nothing else.
Together, they got Kara's vest and then her shirt off. She closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth as Sam worked it down her bad arm, determined not to pass out.
"It looks worse than it is," Kara suggested, after Sam had held up the candle and eyed the wound critically--she was still white around the edges and beginning to turn a little green.
"That's what they all say," was Sam's quiet reply before she turned away to pick up one of the cloths she'd retrieved from her saddlebags. There was quite a pile of them along with Kara's flask of whiskey (which Kara was going to need shortly), and a jar of salve that Sam swore worked on anything from cuts to rashes to knife wounds.
Later, Kara tried never to remember the minutes she spent with Sam shoving a white-hot poker in her shoulder. She'd gotten a piece of wood to bite down on, trying to keep from screaming while Sam searched for and finally removed the chunk of metal that had torn into her flesh.
It really wasn't the worst it could have been, and Kara recognized that even as she cursed at it mentally. A little to the left and the bullet would have shattered bone. As it was, it had managed to lodge itself in muscle and tissue, instead.
"I'm going to have to put pressure on the wound to staunch the bleeding," Sam whispered, her eyes wide. Her fingers were slick with blood, and Kara wondered if she was going to be sick.
Kara grabbed the whiskey and took a long drink. "Do it."
Taking a deep breath, Sam pressed cloth against the wound hard enough to send sparks of pain from Kara's shoulder to her fingertips to her toes. She gave an inarticulate moan and found the darkness that had been hovering finally swallowing her whole.
Part Three
Back to Part One
Sam was restless, her body still awake when her mind kept saying she should sleep. Pictures and images of the day that had passed were torturing her--Starbuck's smirk kept floating back to her. Kara's fingers on her neck...
The sensation had made her catch her breath, made her want to turn and--the idea of Kara's fingers on more than just her neck excited her, made her ache between her legs. Those fingers skimming down Sam's chest, her lips following (Sam wasn't entirely sure how Kara's lips would feel brushing over more than her knuckles, but she rather thought she'd like to find out).
Determined to put the other woman out of her head, Sam turned onto her back and stretched, then pulled her nightgown up, exposing legs and chest to the night air. She focused on the feel of her sheets beneath her, the way the slightly worn linen shifted along her skin, almost caressing it. Next she pulled her legs up, flattening her feet and letting the material of her blanket tickle her toes. It was a deliberate exercise, one she'd used before to relax. Bringing her hands down, she stroked them down her sides, feeling the slight calluses on her hands catching slightly on her skin.
Not really a lady, the thought came to her. Too many rides bareback and too fast, too many words written or sketches of purported particles made with her pen. If the light were on, there'd be ink staining the tips, too.
Ladies had smooth skin, they rode side-saddle, and they didn't write scientific dissections of the world around them.
Angry, Sam shoved the thought away and concentrated on her body again. Hands on her stomach, fingers flexing, causing her nails to scrape gently. Her skin tingled slightly, and Sam wondered if this was what a cat felt when you stroked it.
The thought made her flush and pause. What was she doing, thinking about Kara and kisses?
With a mumbled epithet, she turned on her side, determined to put the entire day out of her mind. Closing her eyes firmly, she began counting elements, and when that failed, designing machinery to do her father's job.
Sam fell asleep around the time that her father was riding a mechanical horse powered by rockets.
But what she dreamt about was a splash of color and movement, and the feel of her fingers between her legs.
-=-
"Oh, Kara..."
Drifting awake from a rather pleasant dream involving Miss Sam Carter, a large bed and several bottles of good wine, Kara smirked a little. Her imagination was running riot tonight, and she had only herself to blame. If she hadn't been close enough to Sam to smell that mingled lavender and skin, she would never have dreamt of it.
Probably. Content to just lay there, drowsily thinking of what curves she could discover under Sam's dress, Kara was brought wide awake by a crashing sound from below as someone dropped something in the bar. Her hand reached for the pistol she'd left in its holster--in the dim light, she could see the belt hanging on the chair.
With a curse, Kara scrambled from the bed and grabbed it, muttering about idiots and cold floors.
She bet Sam Carter's floor wasn't cold. Or her bed. That thought restored her to pleasant musings, and she curled back into bed, fingers teasing at the skin of her hip.
Perhaps she could use the moment to her advantage. Allowing her dream to return to the fore-front of her mind, Kara shifted onto her back. There were many uses for her hands, after all. The pistol made a click when she lay it on the bedside table.
She could have it up again in an instant, if she needed it, and with the chair she'd left under the doorknob, she'd have plenty of time.
-=-
The morning was barely started when Jacob Carter got himself down to his office to process the men in his cell. There were the usual hangover complaints, and at least one had managed to be sick in the slops bucket, but for the most part, they were docile and sent on their way without too much trouble. Once the books were closed on that, Jacob got together the file on Tom Zarek and his outlaws, and waited for Starbuck to show her face.
If she were smart, she'd be there just after the sun was up, ready to go and willing to work for him without complaint.
If she weren't, and he had his doubts, she'd drag herself in around noon.
Jacob sincerely hoped it was the latter so he could sever the contract and see her to the edge of town. He wanted this woman gone, though why he wasn't sure other than that she was a trouble-maker.
They needed less trouble-makers in Colorado Springs, not more.
When Starbuck didn't appear immediately, Jacob made a mental note and settled in to finish off his correspondence. The local circuit judge preferred Sam's penmanship, but Jacob didn't see the need to wake her when she'd been up all night.
Besides, if she really were leaving, the judge would just have to learn to live with his handwriting.
-=-
Sam had no idea why she was doing this.
Normally up with the sun, she'd found herself awake even earlier, listening as her father tried to be quiet (and failed) before he was gone. Giving him time to really be in his office, she'd then gotten up and dressed in the early morning light, then brushed her hair, staring in the mirror but not really seeing herself.
She'd chosen a practical, divided skirt for riding and heavy boots before donning a blue blouse and her leather vest. With its pockets and extra straps, it was useful for all sorts of activities. She fingered the magnifying glass her father had gotten her for Christmas, then left it behind on her bureau--after all, she wasn't planning on any scientific excursions that day.
Her footsteps were soundless as she walked the packed earth of the street, avoiding the already-plentiful horse droppings as she made her way in the side entrance of the Cherry-Red.
"Good morning, John," she smiled at Tyrol. "Where'd you put our latest trouble-maker?"
He grimaced, obviously not pleased to be awake at such an early hour. But an inn didn't run itself, and ever since his wife had run off, he'd been short on help. "Normal room for Sheriff's lot."
"Thanks. She's not awake, is she?"
"Nope. Not heard a peep since she got back last night." His scowl deepened, "Sheriff owes me for th' damages, Miss Carter."
"I know. We'll add it to her bill."
He harrumphed. "Good."
Sam gave him a soft smile, "I'm sorry for the trouble she's caused. I should go roust her out of bed, though. The sun is up and, as dad always says..."
"Time's a-wastin'."
Leaving him in a possibly better mood, Sam slipped up the back stairs and made her way to the room the sheriff always hired for out-of-town help. The circuit judge got the best room (two doors from the back stair, with rumors that the president had stayed there once), but the one near the top was slightly scruffy. And cheap.
Sam scratched at the door. When there was no answer, she knocked firmly.
When there was still no answer, she knocked again. There were no other people in the hallway, so she took the chance and turned the knob.
"Wait." The voice from the other side of the door was muffled, and Sam waited as something was dragged across the floor, and presumably, away from the door.
It opened under her hand and Starbuck stared at her, looking tired and surprised. The expression shifted into something half-heartedly smug, then faltered. "Come to evict me?"
"No." Sam pushed the door open further, but still found herself stepping much too close to the other woman for her own comfort. A rush of memory reminded her of her dreams of the night before, and she found herself flushing. To cover the color in her cheeks, she moved to the tiny window and opened the curtain. "I came to wake you. Dad doesn't like slugabeds, so unless you want the contract broken, I'd suggest you get dressed and come with me for your briefing."
"Do you like sleeping in, Samantha?" Starbuck seemed delighted to ask such a slightly scandalous question, though she moved away and began dressing with a brisk efficiency.
There was some practicality in the woman after all, Sam decided. Being a bounty hunter was her bread and butter. Scorning a job to sleep in would see her reputation take a dive. Curious, Sam turned to regard her, not realizing she was half-naked until she did so. Her question about becoming a bounty hunter was lost as her eyes widened.
She'd seen other women naked before, usually when she was younger--or they were--and of course she'd seen herself in mirrors and the bath. But she'd never really seen a woman standing topless with such utter ease.
"Can you help me with this?"
Sam blinked, sucking in a deep breath. "What?" Her eyes flew to Starbuck's, to find her almost laughing.
"I need help binding myself. It's easier than trussing myself into a corset for the day--and easier to pass as a man, if I need to," she added, holding up the white bandaging she'd obviously been planning to wrap around herself.
Truly, it was the most bizarre situation Sam had ever found herself in. She felt light-headed for a moment before taking herself in hand and grasping the fabric, "You'll have to guide me, at first," she said, hearing the breathless tone in her voice, but unable to escape the feeling that she'd run a race and passed the finish line too quickly.
"It's the first rotation or two that are hardest. Here, start--" Starbuck's hand guided hers and she didn't seem to notice when Sam's suddenly-cold fingers touched her heated skin.
"There. Yes." Blind for a moment, Sam closed her eyes, swallowed, and then gritted her teeth to do what she had to do. Once she began moving around Starbuck, the fabric tightening over her skin, listening as the other woman directed the lay and tension of the bandaging, she lost some of her own tension.
Around and around until Starbuck's pink-tipped breasts were bound in a manner which gave them support, but didn't hinder movement while at the same time almost minimizing them. If she weren't fond of her own corsets, Sam might have almost been jealous of the thing.
"Thank you," Starbuck said suddenly, grabbing the last of the bandaging and stepping away to watch herself in the mirror as she finished the job, tucking the end in neatly. "It wouldn't have managed to be quite this flat and smooth, without your help."
Her fingertips still tingling a little, Sam scrubbed them against her vest. She startled as she realized her own nipples were tight with tension, then released a breath. "I hope this won't take much longer. My father--"
"Don't like to be kept waitin'. I know, honey."
And just like that, the strange atmosphere was gone. Sam narrowed her eyes, "My name is--"
"Samantha."
"Miss Carter, to you."
Starbuck laughed as she buttoned up her loose-sleeved shirt. "You've had your hands on my tits, Sam. I don't think 'Miss Carter' is appropriate anymore."
"I have not--" Glaring, Sam headed for the door, "I'd suggest not wasting anymore time."
"Goin' somewhere?"
"I have things to attend to." An application to finish, for instance. Sam was determined to see herself in a respectable university, learning about science and the world. This, this dallying with a woman no better than an outlaw was ridiculous.
She didn't slam the door as she left, though she was tempted.
-=-
Well. Kara let out the breath she'd been holding and sagged down to sit on the bed. Holy gods, that had been stupid. She buried her face in her hands and tried not to think about all of the heated images parading across her brain. Little Miss Sam Carter with her cool fingers and uninterested gaze had tugged at Kara until she'd been tempted to push her up against the wall and kiss her senseless.
And that wouldn't do at all, considering the girl was from such a strait-laced town. And her father! He'd probably have Kara run out of town or burned at the stake if he had any idea of her attentions towards his daughter.
Not that she had any.
Letting out a groan, she dropped backwards, arms splaying out. And now she was keyed-up and aching in a way that would take too long to deal with (if she wanted to pay proper attention). What she needed was a man, a nice, fast ride, no names--it would cool her down and wipe the image of Samantha Carter on her back, legs spread wide out of Kara's head.
Instead, there was a job to do. Getting a roll in the hay could wait until she'd tracked these bandits to their lair and gotten her money.
Kara stood up and finished dressing before making sure she'd left nothing in the room she couldn't replace easily.
The sheriff's office was already open, just waiting to receive her. Standing outside of the building, she thought of all the times she'd ended up there as a young woman, how often she'd found herself on the wrong side of the law before she'd begun to realize that there was more profit in being on the side of stars and government. Not that Kara really cared about their rules, but they were easy to enforce, and even easier to make a profit from. If one were careful.
She pushed opened the door and stepped inside briskly, "Sheriff. My apologies for making you wait, but I haven't had a decent bed in months."
Giving him a brief smile, she sat in the chair in front of his desk and waited for him to give her the information she needed.
He gave her a look of annoyance before following her lead and turning business-like. Leaning across the desk, he handed her a file. "This is all of the information we have on Tom Zarek and his gang. As you can see, Zarek is wanted in five of the surrounding states, and may possibly be wanted in connection with robberies in more."
There wasn't much in the file, but there was a comprehensive list of items stolen from farmsteads and ranches in the area. Kara noted horses and things large enough to need wagons with her eyebrows raising. "All this stuff, and you still can't find him?" That sort of outlay would require storage, roads, all sorts of things that should be easy to track.
For an instant, the sheriff looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid we simply don't have the manpower to mount that kind of search. There's lot of open land out there, Thrace. It's why we've hired you." Though that was obviously in doubt now, thanks to her little escapade of the night before.
"What's the matter, sheriff, they got you on the payroll?" Kara asked, more to see his reaction than because she believed he was corrupt. Jacob Carter was the sort of man who made her teeth hurt with his sincerity.
Eyes narrowing with anger, he snorted, "Don't try to provoke me, Starbuck. Get yourself on the trail of these thieves and I'll think about not mentioning your inability to live a disciplined life when on the job."
The threat against her reputation wasn't that great, but it was still on the tip of Kara's tongue to say something scathing. As much as she wouldn't mind getting kicked out of Colorado Springs, and didn't really think it would damage it, she still didn't want to leave. Not yet, at least. Not with Miss Samantha Carter such an intriguing possibility. Then again, perhaps getting out of town as fast as possible would be the best thing for the both of them.
She leaned back in her chair and sorted through the papers, scanning the words and map-lines quickly, before she stood and spread the folded map out. "So, there's roads out towards the springs and the mountains, and that's mostly where they've been preying on shipments and the mail coach, correct?"
"We've tried setting ambushes--"
"Yes, your notes said." Kara traced the line of the road, eyes catching the emptiness around it. "Looks like I'll have my work cut out for me. They've probably got half a dozen little hidey-holes all along here. And once we get into the mountains... well, I may be gone for a few days while I hunt."
"Take all the time you think you'll need." It was obvious that the sheriff wasn't exactly giving her a compliment. He expected her to be unable to find them.
Kara smiled and folded the map again, "I'll borrow this and add to it my observations along the way. I should get going, Pyramid and I have a long day ahead of us." She didn't offer to shake his hand again.
Being a bounty hunter hadn't been Kara's original goal in life. When she was five, she wanted to be a ballet dancer, thanks to an image in a newspaper. At eight, she'd wanted to be a bareback horseback rider doing tricks in the circus (her mama regretted that little field-trip when Kara broke her arm trying one of the maneuvers). At eleven, she'd seriously talked about being a teacher, claiming she'd be much better than the old preacher was.
By the time she'd turned fifteen, Kara had tried and discarded half a dozen careers, and her mother had gotten tired of her fits and starts. On the street at sixteen, she'd fallen in with a robber gang, her fingers quick and her feet quicker.
When a federal marshal took the gang in, she turned state's evidence to avoid jail time and ended up running with a friend of the marshal's. He'd said one good turn deserved another, and there'd been something in her that'd made him think her redeemable.
Kara was never sure if Bill Adama was right or not, but she'd found that it didn't matter. Learning to track and shoot, to ride like a demon and punch like a ranch-hand had suited her. When he'd finished with her training, Jack O'Neill had turned her loose on the world, getting her reputation started with a small smuggler in Newport. He hadn't cared that she was a woman and Kara hadn't cared that he didn't talk about his past.
Nowadays, she occasionally got a one-line letter from him, when she thought to check in with the post box she'd taken a little over two years ago. Her mama sometimes wrote, too. They got along better, now they weren't forced to live on the same farm.
But she wasn't about to explain all of that to Jacob Carter. It wasn't his business, and he wouldn't care anyway. Kara left him to his paperwork and headed for the inn, determined to be on the trail of Zarek and his men as soon as she could be. She was a little disappointed not to run into Miss Samantha on her way, but one couldn't have everything.
-=-
Kara Thrace wasn't anything to do with her, Sam reminded herself as she stood at the upstairs window, watching Kara walk down the street. Well, not walk, saunter was a better word for the way Kara moved. But it didn't matter what she was doing, she was there to do a job, and nothing else.
Firmly turning away, Sam moved to sit at the desk and pulled out the sheets of paper she needed to finish writing upon. The application wouldn't do itself, and if she wanted to learn the less quixotic ways of science, and the discipline required in a real laboratory, she would need to apply herself to getting it finished. And she did want that. As much as she would miss Colorado Springs, the thought of mixing chemicals and learning titrations (as a stepping-stone to her own researches) was exciting.
While she worked on the application, her mind drifted to daydreams of a lab of her own. She'd have an assistant, and as much raw material as she needed. She'd find out how various interactions could cause a woman to fly, or perhaps be invisible. Turning lead to gold was the alchemist's dream, but in her world it could be possible.
Pulling herself back to reality, Sam finished her application and the letter of request and sat back, studying them for a moment before she bundled them up and addressed them neatly.
Then she headed down to the general store and post office, determined that the whole thing would be out of her mind before the morning was over.
Once that was done, she lingered in the store, eyeing the glass tubing that had come in for Doc. She wouldn't steal his equipment, but she would consider all of the uses it could have. Her mind was trying to decide between a new type of electrical generator and distillation when she was interrupted.
"Pardon, Miss Carter."
It was Carstairs, one of the brawlers of the night before. Samantha was inclined to dislike him on principle, but decided that she couldn't blame him for Starbuck's incivility. "Mr. Carstairs."
He smiled, then said, "Fine day we're havin'."
"Yes," she agreed, eyes straying to the bright sunlight pouring over the street. It would be time to bring her father his noon meal soon. "Was there something you wanted?"
The pleasant look disappeared as he shook his head, as though he'd expected something more of her, though what, Sam couldn't say. "I just wanted to greet a pretty lady on this fine day."
The badly-delivered compliment made her wince internally. Even Deputy Quinn was better with them, and he always stumbled over metaphors! "Yes. If you'll excuse me, I should be checking on my father."
"Oh." He stepped aside, then back, almost pushing her into the glass case. "I was wondering, Miss Carter--"
Sam adroitly twisted free of the case and Carstairs, "My father is waiting for me."
"That bounty hunter's here 'bout Zarek, ain't she?" He sniggered a little, as though the idea of a female bounty hunter was too entertaining and laughable for words.
"You would have to ask the sheriff," Sam replied, emphasizing his title. Really, she ought to tell her father the man was slimy and not-very-nice. But she was a woman grown, and it wouldn't do to make him get over-protective when she'd just convinced him she could live in a strange city all on her own. "Good day to you."
She escaped into the sunlight before he could try to detain her further.
-=-
By midday, Kara was closer to the mountains than she thought she'd have to go to find traces of the outlaws. According to the notes and maps, the area had already been swept, but Kara was nothing if not thorough. She paused on a slight rise and stood in the stirrups, trying to get a feeling for the lay of the land. Unfortunately, she wasn't high enough for it to do her much good, but she did spot a tree leaning a little oddly. Nudging Pyramid closer to that side of the road, she discovered a clever screen of underbrush and fallen branches that hid a trail from the road.
Dismounting, she slipped inside the tree line and bent to inspect the area, pacing around it. A little way from the road, the trail spread to accommodate large objects. Wagons had left tracks, some of them relatively recent. She kicked at one and looked back towards Pyramid and the road. She could barely see him, and the road was merely a memory.
Very smart, then, she decided as she made her way back to her horse. Zarek wasn't just a common bandit, he was a planner. Kara shook her head and mounted, before grinning and nudging Pyramid towards this new trail. It might be folly to track them without at least letting the sheriff know what she'd found, but she wasn't sure that it mattered.
It wouldn't take long to follow the trail to its end and return to report.
While she rode, she kept an eye out for movement. There were the usual animals that fled across the path, once or twice, and the birds chirped and twittered, but Kara saw nothing human before she found the end of the trail.
The path led in a fairly straight direction towards the foothills, rising and falling with the grade of the land. Gradually, Kara realized that she was approaching something. An impression spurred on by the glint of sunlight off metal. There weren't supposed to be farms or homesteads out this way, which meant there was someone out there who shouldn't be.
Reining Pyramid to a halt, she studied the ground ahead, and the structure she'd been seeing in the distance finally resolved itself.
It was a box canyon, the sides not quite equal as they rose up into the foothills that bracketed the area.
Deciding to try to be a little stealthier, though she needed proof that this was the outlaws' lair, Kara left Pyramid in a copse and crept forward carefully, watching for signs of habitation and movement. When she saw none of the latter, she got as close as she could, peering into the canyon and finding the telltale signs of an encampment. Near one ledge were broken-down tents. A blackened area was large enough for a sizable cookfire, though it was out for the moment. At night, the smoke rising from it might not even be noticeable.
There were marks from wagons going in and out, and the occasional impression of hooves, as well.
Kara congratulated herself as she slowly made her way back to Pyramid. She'd done what she'd set out to do: she'd found the smugglers' base. While she did wonder a little about it being empty, she didn't let that stop her from remounting and making her way back down the trail.
It was possible Zarek and his men were off raiding one of the distant farms, but Kara figured that, given their recent haul, they were probably taking it somewhere to sell off. Maybe towards the border to the south, maybe towards the north. She discounted the idea they'd head west with it. Not enough cash in that arena to justify going over the mountains. She shot the peaks a glance, gaze traveling across the snow tipping them. Not yet, at least.
Zarek might be planning on doing that eventually; getting enough for a stake out west where he'd be able to charge the settlers more than they could afford.
Not that it was any skin off her nose. Kara paused to pull out sheriff Carter's map and scrawl some notes on the location in her untidy handwriting before she patted Pyramid and gave him a nudge to move him on. She'd take it easy, making her way back. Wouldn't want to let the sheriff believe she could pull miracles from her hat.
This had taken her barely half a day, and she had to wonder a little if her jab at him about taking money from Zarek wasn't off the mark. Someone should have been able to find that canyon, and yet no one had.
Frowning, she urged Pyramid on a little faster, suddenly beginning to doubt that this was all on the up and up. If Zarek had someone in his employ in the town, it would explain the sheriff's inability to find the gang. Say the person was a deputy, who took the western searches, Kara bet he'd be able to keep people from finding the traces of wagons and horses, and he'd make doubly sure that no one wandered too close to that box canyon.
She wondered if the sheriff had any idea. As much as she might be willing to suspect him, Sheriff Carter was the sort of upright, law-abiding man who made an excellent sheriff and a lousy outlaw. She just couldn't imagine him being on Zarek's payroll.
That left deputies, or men drafted into search parties.
A sound made her jump, and she scanned the woods as she tried to increase Pyramid's speed, veering closer to the trees, so as to make a more difficult target. But there were too many trees and too much underbrush to make it wise to gallop. Laming her horse wouldn't do her much good.
Color exploded out of the air to their right, and Pyramid reared up in surprise as four men rode towards them, guns out as they swiftly crowded close.
"Now, where you be goin' so fast, honey." The man in the lead looked vaguely familiar, but then, broken teeth and scruff were common among outlaws.
Kara snorted. "I was thinking of spending some of the money I won offa your friends last night." It was worth a shot in the dark, after all.
"We don't have time for this," one of the others said, his tone impatient. "Blaine, take Griffin and ride for Zarek. We'll see to it our new friend doesn't manage to escape."
He was leering, too. And more effectively.
Kara nudged Pyramid in the side and he jumped into movement, but not fast enough for her to avoid the rifle-butt smashing into the back of her head.
-=-
After lunch, Sam decided to shake some of her restlessness out by riding. She saddled up Chief and headed towards the distant mountains. Her father had been busy with his paperwork, and she'd wondered a little about how he'd fare without her.
But he'd managed without her mother, she decided. They both had.
Her thoughts swirled around memories of her mother and an idea about mechanizing writing, so her father wouldn't have to use a pen until she'd been riding for longer than she'd planned.
The smell of wood smoke drew Sam from her thoughts with an abruptness that made her tense--there should be no one out here, she'd deliberately chosen the emptier route. Pulling Chief to a halt, she cast around, trying to spot the location of the fire. Instinct told her that it wasn't the forest on fire, and she found the trail of smoke nearby. Curiosity sent her closer, but she moved as quietly as she and Chief could manage.
Voices reached her before she found the fire. Their low sound muffled her approach.
It wasn't so much of a camp as a random fire in a clearing, with three horses on the other side, one of them still tacked-up, his saddlebags full. There were two men by the fire, arguing about something, and a slumped figure on the ground. Sam had no way of knowing, but given their generally unkempt appearance and the fact that this was an uncharted and unclaimed territory, it seemed obvious that they were a part of Zarek's gang. Or other outlaws working on their own.
But the latter seemed unlikely. Still, the slumped figure on the ground was definitely a bound Starbuck, and Sam found that she didn't want to leave her like that to take the time to ride for more help.
There were only two of them, and they were distracted with their argument.
With that decision made, Sam pulled her shotgun free of the holster in her saddle and aimed at the fire. Kara was further away from it, so she felt no compunction with shooting into the flames, causing a chemical reaction that sent the fire into a sparking frenzy.
The men reacted predictably, trying to put the fire out and cursing. Sam rode into their camp, rifle at her shoulder, Chief a little upset, but behaving himself. Starbuck surged to her feet with a look of surprise that turned into a grin when she recognized Sam.
The sheriff might have very firm views on the life a woman should lead, but he'd always made certain his daughter could ride as well as shoot. Sam aimed the rifle at the man who was closer to her as he turned, his pistol already out. "Drop it, or I drop you."
"Now why--" he began, leering up at her as though she weren't holding a shotgun.
Sam had never shot a human being before, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to again, but she also knew that letting him call her bluff would give him the advantage. She winced a little as she fired, the rifle shot suddenly excruciatingly loud in the small clearing. The man collapsed, howling in agony over his ruined hand.
"You could live, you get to Doc in time," Sam said, her voice curiously breathless. She gestured with her rifle at the second man, "Help him bandage his hand."
"Why?" sounding scornful, Starbuck retrieved one of their pistols. Sam wasn't surprised that she'd managed to untie herself. "Letting him bleed out would do the world a favor."
"That--"
It happened faster than Sam was expecting. The second man grabbed for his own pistol and turned to fire at them, apparently thinking that if he knocked Sam from her horse, Starbuck would come willingly.
Starbuck shot him through the head.
Getting her lungs to move again, Sam swore, then blushed.
Looking at her with something like amusement, Kara moved away and retrieved her horse from the picket line of three. She mounted and took up the reins of the other two, as well. "If you're thinking of ways to take the men with us--"
Whatever Starbuck had planned to say was drowned out by the sound of hoofbeats nearby.
The odds of them being good guys were slim, and they both knew it.
"Frak, c'mon!" Kara said distinctly before she dropped the extra reins and kicked Pyramid into motion, tearing across the campsite and towards the trail Sam had come up on from the road.
Sam didn't waste time shouting in annoyance. Bending low over Chief's neck, she followed the bounty hunter as she broke out onto the trail. There were shouts behind them as the rest of Zarek's band poured into the clearing, too late to catch them.
That didn't stop them from firing after them, and Sam felt Chief stiffen in fright before his speed increased and he shouldered ahead of Pyramid.
"Road's too open, Sam!" Kara called, her voice too-loud.
"I know--" trying to ignore the panic coursing through her, Sam let Chief plunge onto the road then forced him up the slight incline on the other side, finding another trail. The sound of gunfire came from behind them and Sam risked a glance over her shoulder to find that Zarek's men had broken out of the tree line on the other side of the road.
Faster, she silently urged Chief, bending even lower and hoping she knew this area better than the men behind them did.
Sam had grown up riding the trails around Colorado Springs, and her father had always insisted she stay on the well-traveled paths. But as she'd grown older, she'd found herself taking the barely-visible game trails that he wouldn't want her on, considering them dangerous to a young woman alone. Sam didn't know if they were, and at the time hadn't really cared. She'd enjoyed the challenge, and now she was grateful she had.
Even with her knowledge of the area, she almost missed the branching of the trail, kneeing Chief into a sharp turn that sent earth flying from his hooves.
Glancing back, Sam was grimly pleased to see Starbuck and Pyramid keeping up with them.
The trail went up over a ridge and dropped down the other side before meandering aimlessly in the opposite direction of town until it hit a brook.
Sam had to restrain Chief's intention of stopping for a long drink as she made him trot up the waterway. It wouldn't keep Zarek from finding them forever, not if he scoured the area looking for them, but Sam did hope that they'd lose their trail for at least a little while.
After a mile, she led them up the same side they'd come down.
Still in silence, they rode as quietly and quickly as they could, both listening for their pursuers.
The sounds of other horses had disappeared before they'd reached the brook, and there was nothing but the rustle of the wind in the trees when Sam silently signaled a halt. Birds were whistling somewhere close. A robin, from the angle of the sun and time of year.
"Nice trick with the creek," Starbuck murmured.
Sam shrugged, "Dad's always got federal marshals talking about tracking when they're over for dinner. They think I don't listen. Anyway, we can make our way back to town if we follow this. It'll take a little longer than the road, but hopefully they'll think we doubled-back to take the easier route."
"Might not make it that far, Sam."
Frowning, Sam turned to look at her and bit off an exclamation. Blood streaked the side of Kara's shirt and splattered Pyramid's haunches. "You've been shot."
"No shit."
"You must not be a very good bounty hunter," Sam said reprovingly, trying to keep her stomach under control as her senses rebelled from the smell and sight of Kara's blood. "I thought getting shot would be top of your list of things not to do."
Kara snorted, then winced, "You'd be surprised. I think you'd better find us a place to hole up for a few hours--least until you dig the bullet out."
Eyes wide, Sam shook her head, "I'm not a doc, Starbuck."
"Yeah, I know that. But you're all I got. So, any place we can stop for a rest?"
Sam closed her eyes and thought for a moment, trying not to smell the blood now that Kara was so close and the wind wasn't rushing past them. "There's an abandoned farm not too far away."
"Make a great hideout for bandits."
Her sarcasm wasn't lost on Sam. Her eyes snapped open, "I know that, but it's what we've got. 'Sides, I don't think they'd use the cow-shed. It's nowhere near the other buildings and it's in pieces."
"Pieces ain't gonna be too useful, then."
"Rest of the farm's in pieces, too. Burned down two years ago, and no one's taken over the land since. Now stop arguing and follow me before you pass out." Sam nudged Chief into motion again, wondering if she were more annoyed that Kara'd been shot or that she'd have to dig the bullet out.
-=-
Ambushed, tied-up and shot. Not to mention rescued by the sheriff's daughter. Kara would have laughed in annoyance if she hadn't been in so much pain. Every movement Pyramid made jarred her shoulder until she wished it to go numb even if it meant she lost the thing.
Samantha's shed barely qualified as such a structure anymore, and it lay off the path a good ways, leaving a quantity of broken foliage in their wake. Kara wasn't too far gone to realize it would be an excellent road-map to their little hideaway. "Sam," she murmured before the other could dismount, "You need to lay a trail away from here. Make it look like we didn't even stop."
There was silence before Sam looked at her, worry in her eyes. "Will you be all right while I'm gone?"
"Of course." Kara was planning on dismounting and getting an actual look at the damage to her shoulder, if it were possible. Her hand and fingers still mostly worked, but that could be from sheer force of will.
Sam gave a nod and then turned Chief towards the gap across from where they'd entered the shed's yard.
Watching Sam disappear made Kara's gut clench in worry. She tried to reassure herself that Sam was smart, she wouldn't get caught--she'd be back. She wouldn't ride away and leave Kara behind.
Resolutely pushing the idea to the back of her head, Kara nudged Pyramid closer to the shed and dismounted by swinging her left leg over and sliding off. Landing on the ground jarred her shoulder and she went to her knees, stifling a yelp of pain as best she could. The world swam for a moment before she managed to grasp the stirrup and haul herself upright again.
"Good boy," she murmured, patting Pyramid's neck before she led him through a gap in the shed wall. It would be best to be out of sight if anyone did come looking for them.
Tethering him in the corner, Kara debated, then loosened his saddle a little. He needed a good rest and a rub-down, but it would have to wait. She pulled the rifle the bandits hadn't taken from the holster and left it sitting near one of the broken windows. It wouldn't take her long to drop to her knees there and take it up, even if she wasn't sure her shoulder would support firing the thing.
With a sigh, she pulled the medical kit from her saddle bag. She'd pushed off the inevitable long enough. Moving into the light falling through the largest hole in the ceiling, Kara knelt and began unbuttoning her shirt.
A sound had her on her feet and heading for the window before Sam Carter and Chief slipped inside through a different gap in the wall.
"I laid a trail to the path that led to the farmhouse," Sam murmured, "It's still packed earth and doesn't really take prints well."
"Good job."
Sam tethered Chief next to Pyramid and loosened his saddle as well before she came towards Kara. "Your shoulder needs to be seen to."
Since she was a little white around the mouth, Kara wondered exactly how much of this Sam was looking forward to. "We'll need flame to sterilize the knife," Kara told her, ruthlessly smothering her own worries.
"I've a candle I can light--a fire might attract attention." Sam somehow seemed to be brisk and efficient, getting Kara to sit on the remains of a watering trough that had been turned on its face at some point. It was a good makeshift bench, if nothing else.
Together, they got Kara's vest and then her shirt off. She closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth as Sam worked it down her bad arm, determined not to pass out.
"It looks worse than it is," Kara suggested, after Sam had held up the candle and eyed the wound critically--she was still white around the edges and beginning to turn a little green.
"That's what they all say," was Sam's quiet reply before she turned away to pick up one of the cloths she'd retrieved from her saddlebags. There was quite a pile of them along with Kara's flask of whiskey (which Kara was going to need shortly), and a jar of salve that Sam swore worked on anything from cuts to rashes to knife wounds.
Later, Kara tried never to remember the minutes she spent with Sam shoving a white-hot poker in her shoulder. She'd gotten a piece of wood to bite down on, trying to keep from screaming while Sam searched for and finally removed the chunk of metal that had torn into her flesh.
It really wasn't the worst it could have been, and Kara recognized that even as she cursed at it mentally. A little to the left and the bullet would have shattered bone. As it was, it had managed to lodge itself in muscle and tissue, instead.
"I'm going to have to put pressure on the wound to staunch the bleeding," Sam whispered, her eyes wide. Her fingers were slick with blood, and Kara wondered if she was going to be sick.
Kara grabbed the whiskey and took a long drink. "Do it."
Taking a deep breath, Sam pressed cloth against the wound hard enough to send sparks of pain from Kara's shoulder to her fingertips to her toes. She gave an inarticulate moan and found the darkness that had been hovering finally swallowing her whole.
Part Three