Fandom: Deadwood
Rating: T for language,
Gen, het, Dan-centric, Dan/barely seen but intriguing character (no sex)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything re: Deadwood; It is HBO and David Milch's entirely
Spoilers for Season 3 finale
Summary: When you see yourself evolving from beast to human, what happens when events push you into inhumanity? How do you get your humanity back?
Al sends Dan alone to a nearby town for multiple reasons. He meets a lone traveler with a strange scent. Both have choices to make.
Dan on the Road to Belle Fourche
Al Swearengen's floor, cleaned of blood, was still damp. Al thought he'd always see a shadowy stain there.
One day, things would be back on even keel. Today had been one of the worst, though. God, he was ready to get back to running his business and stop fighting a fucking war. Merrick had interrupted his scrubbing to tell him more news—Tolliver had apparently knifed that dragon-chaser faro dealer, Leon, sorriest spy in the territory. Al hadn't even opened the door for that.
He walked around his office, picking up letters and notes he'd half-read and discarded during the recent events. Thought about a blow job, but that would involve one of his whores being in this room. Neither he nor the whore could have stomached that.
He re-read a letter from an old business associate in Belle Fourche. Now the words strung together better. Guy had a quality faro dealer, wanted to try dealing cards in Deadwood. That letter had gone to the bottom of his priorities, but now he started to see some possibilities. The town was short a faro dealer. He had enough tables…Cy seemed preoccupied and might be slow to hire. If this other dealer was any good at all, Al might beat a week or more of Cy's action. Maybe make him re-think whether he needed a faro table at all.
He considered the angles. Hearst and the Pinkertons were gone. Adams could muster, what, seventeen guys and a dwarf, if trouble came up. Wu's Chink army wouldn't be too far away as Wu was doing whatever Chink calculations he was doing on best use of those guys.
He couldn't send Johnny anywhere right now. If he sent Adams, then Al himself would have to deal with fuckin' Hawkeye if anything jumped up. Dan…Dan had just started coming back from the fuckin' fair fight with the Captain, when he had to hogtie Johnny and tote around Jen's body. Al knew he wouldn't be at Jen's funeral. He suspected Dan wouldn't be welcome there, either.
You gotta do what you have to do, and move on.
Back to fuckin' business. And if thinking about business on a day like today made him a monster, so the fuck be it. He had to get Dan clear-headed, and this might be a way. At least it would be something to interrupt what he feared was a downhill slide he did not have time for. Couple days of Dan being out of here might serve several purposes. Al read the letter again, and started making notes.
Dan sat and smoked, looking at the whisky shot in front of him. Felt like another Last Stand had been avoided, but at one hell of a price. He felt like he'd been knee-deep in wrong deaths lately. Involved in the wrong kind of murders, which would only have made sense to men of the Gem, he figured.
Now Johnny Burns wouldn't even look at him. Al hadn't been out his office since having the bloody water carried out. Whores were either weeping or looking off into space on opium highs. Boxing poor Jen had taken from him any equilibrium he had gotten back after the fight with Turner. Nothing seemed like it would be the same.
Might as well be back running the roads, Dan thought. Way things were, he figured he might as well give up on Cheyenne and the plump little blond he had thought he might be sweet on. He hadn't heard from her since he had sent one telegram after another saying he'd be in town, then he wouldn't be, then he would have to let her know. He was pretty sure she could afford the cost of a telegram back. Add her to the list of folk not wanting to do with him.
"Dan."
Dan put his cigar out and walked up the stairs to Al's office. If Al couldn't take time to step out to the railing, Dan figured he wasn't in that big of a hurry. Good thing. He still was feeling aches from his fight with that stubborn bastard Turner.
Al was at his desk, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, tapping the end of his pen on a letter. "You up for a road trip?"
"You sending me off to Cheyenne again?"
"You want to go to Cheyenne that bad?" He raised his eyebrows. Al didn't want to be without his second for a week or more, not with the state of things around here, but he was heartily sick of seeing his sullen shuttered mug. Nobody was dancing a jig these days, and especially not today, but he still had held hope that Dan would be quicker to adjust than most.
"No, I do not want to go to Cheyenne. There is nothing I need in Cheyenne, and I'm still hurtin' in my ribs and back. What kinda business going on, I got to go to Cheyenne?"
Al looked at Dan over the top of his glasses. "Did I say Cheyenne? No, I just said "road trip". Had you been busting a gut to get to whoever you wanted to fuck in Cheyenne, I could consider rearranging my plans. That not appearing to be the case, you ready to hear what I do need?"
Dan looked at him. "I'm sitting here waiting, ain't I?"
Al considered addressing his tone, then decided to let the big man be. Weepy whores he could handle, if he had to. Unpleasant but not unfamiliar. A weepy Dan was…unsettling, he knew from experience.
"I heard from an old…business acquaintance, in Belle Fourche, that there's a faro dealer, seems reliable, looking to relocate. I'd like to get some more faro action going in here, before that Bella Union cocksucker hires himself a new dealer. There's gonna be money out there, just waitin' to be spent on games of chance, and not being able to draw it in seems likely to keep me awake at nights.
"Thinking of Tolliver beatin' me to it seems likely to turn my waking into pacing. Between the pacin' and the pissin' I might cease trying to go to bed entirely."
Dan thought about the 30 mile ride to Belle Fourche. Easy enough ride, he could set a pace that wouldn't bounce his balls and ribs around too much. "So, what are you wanting me to do?"
"Just go up there, take a room, then spend some time at this location". He handed Dan the letter and some cash. "Have a few drinks, play some dice if there's a game near the faro table. If not, feel up a whore where you can be near enough the dealer to get a look at the dealer's play."
Dan started thinking this might be a good break. Just being around different faces sounded good about now. Spending some time out of the Gem…thinking of that eased up the tightness around his ribs a little.
"And, Dan?"
Dan could see flickers of murder in Al's eyes. He sat up a little straighter. "Yeah, boss?"
"Check the cocksucker's pupils a few times over the course of your stay. His arms, if you get a chance. Maybe throw out a hint that you wouldn't mind seeing what quality dope is floating around Belle Fourche, see if the faro dealer steps up to help out with that. You see any sign whatsoever that this guy rides the needle, I need to know to look elsewhere."
"What if he don't look to be a user? Come back and give you the run-down?"
Al laid his glasses aside. "He looks good to you, good dealer, not a doper, nothing makes your guts uneasy, go ahead and make this offer." He shoved a paper across the desk with figures and percentages on it.
This was unfamiliar territory. It sounded like Al was expecting a fair amount of money to flow from a new faro dealer, and Dan couldn't remember Al handing off that kind of hiring to anyone else.
"Al, don't you want to hear from me first, give you a chance to hear my impression, then make up your mind?"
"No."
Dan stood up, uneasy, cash and notes in hand.
"You got good judgment in tight spots, Dan. Go show me your judgment when a life ain't on the line, hmm? Runnin' a place like this is more than deciding when to draw a blade."
"Okay, boss. I'll be back with a new faro dealer, or not, depending on what I find."
Al gave him that smile that always made him feel like the teacher's favorite student.
"Whatever you decide, Dan. Just like you were hirin' for your own place."
Dan left to start making arrangements for a pack and horse, looking forward to some breathing room, and some fresh thoughts to occupy his mind, take it out of boxes and bloodstains and friends who wouldn't meet his eyes.
The next morning, Dan started out a couple of hours after sun-up. This would be no hard, hell-for-leather trip. He could take his time, enjoy being out around forest and creeks again. New treaties and agreements meant some increased safety on the roads, although a man still had to be watchful. His chestnut gelding was a bigger ride than he was used to, but had an easy gait that suited his ribs. The sun felt good on his sore back. Dan's eyes tracked his surroundings out of habit, as he enjoyed the quiet.
Two hours out, he spotted a figure just off the road. One man, on the small side, ill-fitting clothes, no weapon in sight. Possibilities ran through his mind. Not enough dust thrown up on the road to indicate a group in wait. Guy didn't seem…fight-ready. Something wasn't right—a lone man, hearing a rider, should have either melted into the woods, or at least be preparing to acknowledge him, trying to assess Dan's purpose. The figure turned towards him for a second, then turned back, hat shading his face.
Odd, he thought. No way he could tell who or what I am with that little peek.
Maybe he was looking to see who I ain't.
He continued at a steady pace that put him at the man's side in another couple of minutes.
"Morning!"
The man kept walking. Rude son of a bitch.
Now that Dan was closer, he could see the man was more boy-sized, shoulders hunched up. Raggedy brown pants and a stained mud-colored shirt, floppy brimmed hat with a rip in the crown. His tracker's nose noticed something else. He could smell blood coming off the boy. Not fresh, but blood all the same.
"Hey, I'm talkin' to you!" He pulled his horse in front of the figure. "If I was looking to do some harm, you'd know it already. You having some trouble?"
Although Dan kept an arm and knife blade's length away. He was still close enough to see he was talking to a woman, looking back at him with weary dark eyes.
"Uh, Ma'am, I don't mean any harm, now. You—you're kinda putting yourself in a bad spot, walking alone like this. You got any menfolk around? You lost?"
Oh, hell, he thought. I do sound like a fuckin' road agent.
"Have you been sent to bring me back?"
Her speech was different somehow from the women he knew, but he had heard that resigned, hopeless way of saying things before.
"No, Ma'am. I got nothing to do with you. Just on my way to Belle Fourche. Lone traveler on the road tends to attract attention. For somebody sounding like they don't want to be brung back somewhere, you don't seem like you're tryin' to avoid it too much."
"I've seen you before." She looked up at him." I've seen you in the streets around the Gem. "
"Where I work."
"I wasn't in town long enough to meet many folk."
"Don't look like you were in town long enough to provision enough for travelin', neither." He nodded towards her empty hands, her one small sack tied at her waist.
He started talking as he dismounted.
"Well, Ma'am, I don't know what you're runnin' from, or to, but I got to take a piss, and water my horse. You want to wait, I got some time to see if there's anything I can do to lend you a hand." He stood at his horse's head, reins in hand. "You want to go on, I won't bother you when I pass you by again."
She shook her head, a brown curl coming loose under her hat. She pushed it back up. "I'll wait."
She was still standing there when he and his gelding came back out of the woods. He tied the horse to some deadfall and took an apple out of his pack. "Want half?"
At her nod he pulled his blade and cut it in two. When he looked up from the apple, she was sitting cross-legged on the ground, head down. He squatted down by her side.
"You ain't fallin' out, are you? How long's it been since you ate anything?"
Tears starting running down her face, her body still as stone. He had to ask her to repeat herself, her voice was so low.
"I said, "I don't like knives"."
"Okay, I'm putting in back in its sheath. Now, you start on that apple, and you start tellin' me what's weighin' on you. I'm Dan Dority, that works for Mr. Swearengen at the Gem. I've been told I have some ability at solving problems for folks."
She took the apple half. "I'm Janine, used to work at the Bella Union. Mostly, I've been told I'm stupid."
She took a big bite.
"You looked back at me for a red coat?"
"Yes. I don't know why, though. He has people he could send after me. But something made me think he'd be likely to come after me himself. I started out right before dawn, as soon as I could grab up some clothes from the wash pile. These wrong-sized boots slowed me down some."
Dan was sitting next to her now, facing back the way they came. He chewed his apple, trying to think of a decent way to ask a personal question.
"You feeling faint just now, and…couple other things I noticed…if you're havin' your monthlies and didn't have no chance to pack rags, I got a shirt I don't like too good in my pack, if you need something to make more out of."
She drew in a breath. "What things are you talking about?"
"Not meanin' offense, but you got a strong smell of blood coming off you, and you don't seem to be favorin' nothing that looks like you had an injury."
"I didn't…I've not been thinking real clear today…I…" She got up and ran on shaking legs to the wood's edge, starting to pull off her stolen clothes. He went after her, hearing her choking out "no" over and over.
She had pulled the men's clothes off over her bloodstained chemise and drawers. Handprints of drying blood, still sticky in places, covered the thighs and belly. She looked down at herself, bent and vomited up pieces of apple. Dark brown hair came loose from pins and fell on either side of her face.
Wiping her mouth, she looked at Dan, her eyes dark and lifeless. "I thought I'd pissed myself when everything happened. That that was the wet. When I went over by the privy to get dressed, I couldn't see much of anything. All I could smell was the shit from the privy.
"Oh, God, I've been carrying Leon's blood on me all day…" She bent and heaved again.
I got a blood-stained woman I don't even know, pukin' and cryin' in front of me, probably just seen a murder, thinks somebody might be after her, and we're two hours between towns. Dan thought.
What would Al do?
Dan took hold of the woman's arms. "Janine. Janine. Look at me, Goddamnit! Ain't no use for you getting' hysterical. "
She straightened. " I know." Then her face started to crumble again as she slumped a little.
Dan walked her over to the creek where he'd watered his horse . He wished he knew those soothing sounds that could calm down upset women. "You hush" was about all he had.
"Okay, Janine, we're gonna get these clothes off you, wash the blood off best we can, and go from there. "
She nodded and started removing her underwear, keeping her eyes on him. Dan suspected if she saw blood on her skin and in her snatch hair she'd probably get sick again. He took the bloody clothes and eased her into the creek. The water was cool and had some froth to it, and looked to be a couple of inches above her knees where she was standing. Her eyes stayed fixed on his face. They still looked tired and sort of empty. Flat-like.
"You go ahead and sit down now, Janine. Just go ahead and sit down and get nice and clean, wash the road dust off". He thought he sounded like he did when he needed to get somebody quiet before slitting their throat. He did know some soothing sounds after all. He hoped she didn't make the same connection, but the fact that she kept her eyes on him, not the water, made him wonder.
Dan got a little downstream, rolled up his sleeves, and started washing away Leon's blood.
Ten minutes later, the blood was almost completely out of Janine's underwear and all the way off of her body. Dan helped her out of the creek and took her to a spot where the sun came though the trees.
"I'm gonna lay these out in the sun and fetch you some coverin' from my bags, okay?" She nodded.
She was looking around more, taking in the trees and creek, the mossy rocks by the bank. She's coming around, he thought. Now that her eyes were not staring right at him, he looked at her as a woman, not a problem. Dark brown hair was not to his usual taste, but he had been thinking he was about sick of blonds lately. She's a strong, lean gal, not dope-skinny, not cow-tittied…just looks…pretty, like nothin's bigger or smaller that it needs to be. Serious face. Has a smart look about her.
He thought about her looks as he spread out her things, wrung almost dry already, and pulled a clean shirt from his pack. He picked up her little pack, thinking there might be something she'd need-a comb or brush maybe. There was a thin shirtwaist and skirt, wrapped around a couple of books, a few coins, some other odds and ends.
She brought books on the run? Different kind of whore, for sure.
Janine put on his offered shirt, observing how he kept some distance between them. A rough man, big, certainly a fighter from the marks on his face, probably used to killing, she thought, from what she'd seen on the street and his ease with blood. Didn't seem like one to grab and squeeze just to prove he could. She wondered what he did at the Gem. She sat in the sun for a few more minutes.
As she walked back to her drying clothes, she realized what it was, the funny feeling she got from him. He's not trying to make me afraid of him. He might want a fuck or a blow job before we part company, but I don't believe he wants my fear.
He turned as he heard her. "These are 'bout close enough to dry for you to put back on." He hesitated before going on with what he had been thinking. "If you're just wantin' to get out of Deadwood, you're welcome to ride behind me to Belle Fourche. I got to spend a day or two there on business, and were you to need assistance makin' arrangements or what-not, I could probably help you out. But it's, you know…whatever you want to do."
He looked away as she took off his shirt and put on the drying chemise and drawers.
"Mr. Dority?"
He turned around.
"I would appreciate your assistance very much." She smiled.
He felt his throat tighten as he watched the light come back to her eyes. His throat relaxed as he thought; light in the eyes…maybe it works in reverse, too, seein' it come back into dead-looking eyes. That has a feel to it, too. A real good feeling, seeing so much light there.
He laughed for the first time in days. She had barely buttoned her pants before he said "Well, hell, come on, then!" as he reached down his hand.
His eyes are kind of pretty when he laughs, she thought. She grabbed his hand, took a stirrup, and swung up behind him. He felt warm hands settle on his waist for balance, as they headed for Belle Fourche.