Chapter 1: Bounty

Don't own any characters except my own, that's the only time I will say it!

Schultz and his newly bought Django rode into the small dust filled town. Small shops cluttered the streets along with tents in the alleyways selling essential products at an astounding high price. Shultz knew what sort lived in this town. Gamblers, drunkards, and whores walked up and down the streets. He suspected that not one good soul lived within the confines of this town.

Eyes locked on to Django as he rode upon his bay gelding that he had recently acquired from his previous owners. It wasn't a new experience of having eyes upon him, he had grown used to the shocked bright eyes of the white folks that looked up or down at him, depending upon where they stood in the town.

Cat calls and gun shots came from the whorehouse to the left of them where a two story hotel house stood regal. The sheriff of the town and his deputy stood stout upon the hotel's porch as they watched with keen eyes as Shultz and Django rode on into their town.

"So what we doin' here," Django asked with a thick Southern accent that he had acquired from many, many years laboring on a rather large Southern plantation.

"We have a bounty," Schultz annunciated as he pulled his horse to a halt on the side of the dirt road. He pulled a wanted poster out of his billfold that hid within his vest pocket.

"Name is Mad Jack Hatfield," Schultz informed Django.

Django looked at the wanted poster that was handed to him. There was no picture of the wanted man upon the flyer. He looked over to Schultz and gave him a confused smile.

"No picture," Django asked, "What he do?"

"He went on a small killing spree," Schultz said simply, "Wiped them all before finishing them off."

"Well how you know he here," Django asked as he dismounted the gelding.

"Word of mouth," King Schultz informed him quickly as he hopped off of his dental wagon, "Many people have a price for their information, a relatively cheap price. So we'll have a beer at that there saloon and then we'll start askin' around."

Schultz turned to look over to Django and shook his head, recalling the scene that had taken place just weeks before.

"Maybe we should skip the beers," he admitted and turned to look at the bar, "You just stay out here while I go ask the barkeeper."

Django looked at King Schultz with slight confusion, but shrugged his shoulders at the man's words as he turned to see a very blessed woman walking passed him dressed in the most expensive of gowns of the most expensive red and black cloth. He watched as she gave him a stern look as she walked passed him, carrying a black umbrella to shield herself from the burning ball of fire that made its home in the blue skies of the South.

"Mam," he announced and tugged at the tip of his hat as she walked passed him, ignoring his courtesy as she walked into the bath houses.

Schultz walked into the crowded bar. Scantily clad women held trays carrying hard liquor to and from the bar to the burly patrons of this shoddy establishment. He pulled his hat off of his head as he walked toward the bar and took a seat at the only empty chair.

"What'll ya have," the barkeeper asked as he cleaned a dirtied glass with a white handkerchief.

"I'm looking for something…or rather someone," Schultz admitted, "Jack Hatfield. He's an old friend."

The bartender smiled at him, the smile exposed the tobacco that had riddled his teeth from a life time of chewing and smoking.

"Mad Jack just left here," he informed him.

"Where'd he go," Schultz asked with a growing smile, happy that he did not have to pay any money this time for the information that he needed.

"You may want to wait a while," the barkeeper informed him, "Went to the bath house, may have a visitor in there if ya know what I mean."

Schultz smiled as he tapped the stained bar top and gave his thanks to the bartender. He hurriedly walked out of the bar, narrowly missing being trampled by two large burly men throwing punches at each other in a drunken brawl.

He hurried out of the bar and smiled brightly as he walked into the fresh air, relieved to have escaped the smoke filled room. He smiled at Django happily as he clapped his hands together.

"We got him," Schultz announced happily as he clapped his hands together in giddiness. He hurriedly made his way toward the bath house with Django following close behind him. He turned quickly and stopped his black friend.

"The barkeep said that there may be a woman in various stages of nudity," Schultz admitted with a shrug of his shoulder as he watched the surrounding townspeople staring at him, "I think it would be safer if you'd stay out here."

Django shook his head at the man's words, but agreed to stay behind anyways. He had seen what had happened to a slave that whistled at a passing white woman. The man hadn't died from the tar or the feathers; he had died from the infection that entered his body after the tar was removed from his body. It had been the very first lethal act of violence against a slave that he had seen. He was seven when he witnessed the brutal act and he had never been able to shake the memory.

Schultz took a deep breath, readying himself to catch Mad Jack in a compromising situation. He placed his hand in his pocket and lightly touched against the small pistol that he always kept hidden from prying eyes. He filled himself with courage as he thought of the many possibilities that could await him jsut behind the door of this small bath house. Death did not frighten him, but a crippling gun shot to the leg did bother him greatly.

He opened the door and stopped short as he looked at the pale, naked back of a woman with dark hair that was kept in a high bun upon her head. He felt his breath slip away from him as he watched the woman's arm extend outward to drop the white brazier to the ground. He could see the outline of her pale face as she turned her head back toward the small tub of hot water.

Her skin resembled the snowy mountain tops of his homeland. He suspected that there wasn't a woman in all of the South land that did not envy her complexion, a complexion that no doubt came from a comfortable living inside the confines of a large plantation house.

He cleared his throat as he heard a chuckle escape her.

"Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me," she asked with a distinct Mississippi accent.

His eyes grew as large as Chinese tea saucers as he watched her daringly turn to face him with her breasts exposed to him. Never in his life had he seen a more perfect, perkier set of breasts. He quickly forced his eyes away from what God had obviously blessed her with and looked at black liner that covered her eyes and caused the dark blue orbs to stand out even more. He watched as a wicked smile tugged at her blood red lips.

"Never see the breasts of a woman before Mr. Schultz," she asked as she lifted a well-crafted dark brow to gaze at him with a dark glare.

He choked back an uncomfortable cough as he pulled his gun out of its home within the confines of his jacket pocket.

"I'm looking for Mad Jack Hatfield," he demanded.

The woman chuckled once again as she glared at him. She turned back around and sighed as she reached down to grab the white silk cloth that she had dropped to the floor. She rolled her eyes in agitation.

"So much for that bath," she whispered in slight anger as she pulled the small clothing over her chest and hurriedly stepped back into her dress.

Schultz watched as she looked into a broken mirror that stood in the corner and smile as she took in the fierceness of her looks.

"Where is Mad Jack," he asked once again.

She rolled her eyes as she turned back to look at him. A smile grew across the ruby red lips as she walked toward him, stopping just before she stepped upon the toes of his black leather boots. She could always cause a man to cower slightly by her intimidating eyes and this one was no different than any other drunken bastard that she had encountered since she had left her plantation home in Mississippi.

"It's Jacqueline Hatfield. And I detest the name Mad Jack. I'm not mad, I'm just lookin' for the pound of flesh that is owed to me. I'm just murderous."

You like? Review and tell me what you think?

There aren't many stories in this section. That needs to be fixed so this is my little contribution.

Hmm...I picture Mad Jack as Lara Pulver (the woman that played Irene Adler in Sherlock)

Reviews are loved! :)