Out West
Howdy, y'all! Here we go again. Welcome to this Band of Brothers Western AU! A few notes & then we'll saddle up:
1. Rating: This story is a Heavy M for strong, strong sexual content. The majority of it is consensual, but there is a bit of prostitution. To comply with ratings here, I've toned it down from the full version on AO3, but if this doesn't sound like your thing, please proceed with caution. In addition, there's period typical racism & homophobia; strong language; gun violence; explosions; injuries; alcohol; smoking. All in the wild west variety.
Relationships of focus: Speirs/OC, Nixon/OC, Nixon/Winters, and some Lipton/OC.
2. This fic does not intend to disrespect or besmirch the names of any members of the 506th PIR, who all have my deepest respect and admiration for their service and accomplishments. While the names of the heroes and villains in this tale are familiar, this is purely a work of fiction based on the HBO portrayals.
3. Historical Inaccuracy: It's there, even though I tried to minimize it. This was largely written with the "Kingsman: The Golden Circle" soundtrack playing in the background, so it's a bit stylized. With exception of Colorado Territory, all the names of locations are fictional. There are discussions and appearances by Native Americans in this tale, but to minimize unintended offense, they are not identified as any specific tribe. Nor are their customs or behaviors intended to reflect any specific tribe or practice. They are generally fictionalized for the time period. All that I know about westerns comes from tv, movies and the internet (the eagle-eyed folks will see some obvious nods scattered throughout).
3. Either I'm a poor internet researcher or gave up too soon, but I was unable to discover Speirs' middle name beyond the "C". If anyone knows and is willing to share, I'll make the necessary corrections.
Much obliged for y'all stopping by. I hope that y'all enjoy! And if you do (or don't), I'd love to hear from you!
The Easy Company. Spearheaded by the Major and manned by his company of Screaming Eagles.
No one really knows why the agents are called by that name, but there are lots of rumors and stories. So many stories in fact, there are plenty of folks in the territory who claim that the Easy Company is nothing more than one giant, made-up legend. But the minute someone shows up with a playing card from the suit of spades branded with a very particular 'E', everyone takes notice.
Aside from the Major himself, only a handful of other names are associated with the Company. Sarge. Sparky. Some swear there's a Doc in there somewhere. Others hear tell of someone - or something - called a Luz. But the men come and go from various towns across the region. Hell, one of them was even out California way once.
Collecting a bounty over there. Settling a water rights dispute over here. Burning a bank to the ground out there. Well, there wasn't any proof of that one. But the folks of Sweetgrass Ridge swear it was an agent of Easy who burned the bank down and returned all the money that had been collected in the name of false taxes.
There was no problem too big or too small for an agent of Easy to solve, providing the right pay was available. It was still a business after all, even if it was in the business of helping people. The Major, though. He was rumored to be a soft-hearted man. It was said, if you could talk to the Major directly, he'd be more inclined to lend a sympathetic ear and likely offer you a reduced price. But talking directly with the Major was a head-scratcher in of itself.
They weren't quite a private police force - some of their members had extraordinary tales boarding on criminality - but the Company had no obvious office or headquarters. It was just easier to operate under assumed anonymity - less chance for retaliation but it invited the risk of reduced clients.
In hindsight, six years in, Winters should have never worried about it.
It wasn't that they were hiding exactly, but save for the men in the company, no one else had enough pieces to put the whole puzzle together. Maybe that's why Nixon's name for the front saloon had been so perfect. The Easy Saloon. Nothing like hiding in plain sight.
At the time, Winters would never have guessed that his introduction to Lewis Nixon would lead him here. To the town of Bluewater in the southern part of the Colorado territory. To running a saloon as a front for a private detective agency. That's how he best liked to think of the Company.
And it had all started with three little words.
"Going my way?"