Just another day in Hell's Carriage
Avengers Old West AU, there's a gif set wandering around Tumblr that inspired this AU
*owau*
The subsonic WHOMP made the glass in the windows clatter and dust fall from the roof. Steve and Clint didn't even look at each other before running out of the Sheriff's office and down the dirt street to the smithy's. The horses at various hitching posts were spooked. Coulson was already outside and calming them down. Steve nodded his thanks to the man. They didn't want residents and visitors to have an excuse to venture into the street and near the smithy's. The danger might have just begun.
At one time, Stark had been a gunsmith like his father but since returning from the front lines of the War, he was now a blacksmith when bored and a smith of everything else the rest of the time. Stark was the reason that the sheriff –and the town council- even knew the word 'subsonic.' Stark's windmills gave Hell's Carriage better electricity than most East Coast towns. Stark's other inventions used the electricity to make life easier.
Stark's experiments leading to his inventions normally ended here: with Steve and Clint meeting Fury outside of the clapboard shop.
"Mayor," Steve greeted the gruff Civil War survivor with respect. The escaped slave had served with distinction.
"Sheriff," Fury answered in kind. He also nodded to Clint. "Deputy."
Stark's buildings were still standing so that was a plus. The three men knew to wait and not to rush in. Stark's house and workshop were a hazard to all but the owner.
Tony Stark finally stumbled out of his workshop, smoke billowing behind him, arm in arm with –well that was a bit of a surprise- Dr. Banner. The town doc had done some schooling for more than just treating patients and Stark had been thrilled to find someone who understood him. For weeks, the smith had been trying to tempt Banner into his workshop, but Steve hadn't expected the doc would agree. The doc had a terrible temper when riled and Stark would test the patience of a saint. Steve welcomed the tiny smile on Banner's face in the current chaos.
"It's a celebration!" Stark announced. "All we're missing is my favorite barfly."
Calling Natasha a barfly was a demotion and an insult likely to get Stark banned from her bar again. She owned the establishment, The Black Widow, and ran the cathouse on the side. Stark would apologize after two days of drinking the rotgut Natasha's competition sold.
"She's keeping the looky-loos out of the street," Fury snapped. "Stark, consider yourself fined. Again."
"Tell Pepper," the smithy waved off the punishment. He had too much money to be bothered. Someday, Fury was going to tar and feather the arrogant genius. Steve hadn't decided whether or not to let him… or -on really bad days- help.
"Where is Miss Potts?"
"DC," Stark answered mournfully. "You should telegraph her and tell her that I'm getting to trouble without her."
Miss Potts was a beautiful, capable woman and could ride herd on Stark better than anyone else. Coulson, Fury's ever efficient secretary, would probably go into mourning when Potts and Stark finally got hitched. The rest of the town of Hell's Carriage was hoping that marriage would tie her down so that they could enjoy the genius of Stark without the madness. Steve had a suspicion that life would continue as it had, with Miss Potts leaving regularly to sell Stark's inventions back East while Stark stayed behind, only with Miss Potts sleeping in Stark's mansion instead of her pretty little house. Miss Potts had hinted as much when Steve had gifted her with a sketch of said house for her birthday last month.
"You need help putting the shop back together," Steve offered. After all, anyone might need the blacksmith. It wouldn't do for the shop to be out of commission.
"Nah," Stark looked back at his workshop. "Maybe later. Let the smoke clear first. Let's have a drink. I'm buying."
Banner eeled away from Stark. "I need to check my clinic."
"You'll come back," Stark whined. "You like the tea that the Widow serves."
Banner made no promises.
Stark looked hopefully at the three men. Fury growled and stalked away. Steve shrugged. All of his problems came from either the Widow or Stark. Having them in the same place and being invited to keep an eye on them would make his job easier. He couldn't get drunk (or old), not since he had been the voluntary subject of an experiment for the elder Stark and Stark's co-conspirator, Erskine, but Steve liked the taste of alcohol as much as the next man.
Inside the Widow, Natasha served the men herself. She filled Clint's glass with tea. The men needed no more clues to know that trouble was brewing. Natasha had her finger on the pulse of the community, especially the dregs.
Steve wondered if it was someone out to make a name for themselves against Clint's well-earned gunslinger reputation or if someone wanted some weapons out of Stark. Steve settled in to watch for danger. The two cowboys at the bar looked like trouble. They had the swagger of cattle baron sons, the blond one built like a regular blacksmith and the dark haired, younger one built more like a school teacher. The blond looked like he was debating between protecting the younger from Pierce and letting nature take its course. Pierce was a bully and a local cattle baron and Steve hated bullies no matter their property size. At the moment, his hands were tied. He didn't like that Pierce had been in town when Stark had made that explosion. Someone was sure to tell Pierce that Banner had been involved. Pierce hated Banner and had tried to run him out of town. The feelings were mutual. Then the dark haired stranger disarmed Pierce quick as a snake and Pierce's army of cowpokes moved to attack. Steve, Clint and Natasha… and Stark moved to break it up.
It was just another day in Hell's Carriage.