Title: Cowboys in New York

Author: Pegasus

Rating: T (some cursing and foul-mouthing)

Summary[rewrite Introducing legendary sharpshooter, Spikes "Big Shot" Clayborne to New York City. Alex was born and raised in the great open West but an enemy's threat moves his life to the bustling city of the East.

Author's Notes: This story was begun in 2002, completed in 2002, and lost since 2003(?) (stupid computer breakdown). I managed to find the first half of the story through old emails so here it is, rewritten! This rewritten chapter is actually a lot different than the original chapter. I finally decided to post it, in a sort of tribute to the release of 3:10 toYuma on DVD, haha. Reviews are welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Newsies – the movie and the characters associated with it belong to Walt Disney.

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Chapter One

The Legendary Claybornes

Virginia, December 1899

He shrugged out of the heavy winter coat and tossed it onto the wooden fence. The suffocating coat had been itching against his skin; he rubbed his neck, still feeling the prickling of the tweed material. Walking towards the open field, he cast his eyes to the sky. There was no blazing sun here. Instead, there was only a thick covering of unmoving gray clouds. They had been taunting him for days, immobile, drowning his hopes of seeing a glimpse of a single glimmering, golden ray. A puff of hot air escaped his lips as he sighed despondently. He focused on the target ahead of him – the battered, wooden target he used for practice was the only object of familiarity in this new world. In his hand he held the cold metal, his thumb slowly tracing the ridges until it rested on the flat knob. Click. As soon as he pushed down on it, his arm shot up and a blast echoed through the air. Click.

"Perfect shot," came a voice from behind him.

He turned his head towards the voice. Without looking back at the target, he pulled the trigger and fired. "As always," he replied with a grin. He dropped his arm to his side and walked towards his brother.

"You deserve that nickname of yours, Big Shot," his brother said with a chuckle. He was stacking wood to bring into the house for the fireplace.

"Aw c'mon, Cole, don't give me all the credit. Us Claybornes are all sharpshooters," he said. "Need help with that?" he asked, nodding towards the freshly chopped lumber.

Before Cole could answer, the two lifted their heads upwards when they heard a window sliding open from the second floor. Their mother poked her head out. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tidy bun at the back of her nape. She was wearing a yellow apron stained with sprinkles of flour. "Cole, I - Alex, why aren't you wearing your coat? You'll catch a cold!" she exclaimed. She narrowed her eyes. "Put it on," she ordered.

"Yeah okay, Ma," he answered. Alex looked dejectedly towards the coat hanging on the fence. He was freezing, he realized. But between the thorned coat and the biting cold, he was willing to take his chances with the weather. Alex glanced up at his mother. She obviously thought otherwise. He trudged towards the fence and reluctantly slipped his arms into the itchy tweed.

Mrs. Clayborne watched her youngest son closely as he closed every single button of his coat. When she was satisfied, she nodded and said, "Now help your older brothers with the firewood." With that, she shut the window and retreated back into the house.

Cole studied Alex as he lifted a large stack of wood. His younger brother was stubbornly unwilling to adapt to their new home, their new life in Virginia. Alex loved their home in Arizona, they all did. It was where their mother had read them stories on the house porch, where the family watched the sun set every evening. Where there would be no need for stuffy coats made of porcupine needles. "You're shivering," Cole observed.

"Wha – yeah. I'm fine. But it's this damned thing," he said, indicating the coat. "It keeps raking at my skin. I don't know how you guys stand it."

Cole shrugged. "You get used to it."

Alex suddenly stopped his brother. With a serious tone he said, "You know, we could've taken 'em."

His brother gave him a stern frown. "We've talked about this. What we're doing is best for the family."

"For God's sakes, I could've taken 'em. The bastard's a lousy shot, always has been --"

"Alex. What's done is done. Forget it, all right?"

"To hell and damnation I will." He picked up a large stack of cut wood and followed his brother into the house. "It's not over," Alex warned.

"Don't talk about this in front of Ma. She'll have one of her panic attacks again," Cole replied, ignoring the warning.

"And Dad will have your ass if you make Ma cry."

Cole and Alex turned towards Iain, the first born of the four Clayborne brothers. Iain strolled towards them with several bags in his arms.

"You're kidding? She made you go buy groceries?" Alex asked, staring at the bags.

"It was Trey's turn," Iain muttered. "But he's sick all of a sudden," he added with an edge to his voice.

Alex wondered what it was that had his older brother ticked off. He was usually the level-headed one of the group. The complete opposite of Alex, Iain always thought things through before taking action. Perhaps as the oldest of four brothers, Iain could not afford to be impulsive and irrational. Even second born, Trey "The Prankster" Clayborne, was not enough to set Iain off.

The three young men made it to the backyard door. Iain shifted the bags to his left arm and reached for the door with his right when suddenly the door clattered with a loud bang! The brothers visibly jumped at the sound and each reached for their pockets. Up to a few weeks before there would have been a gun holster hanging there, but now their hands grasped at the air. Trey stood on the opposite side of the screened door with a wide grin on his face. His hands were still placed on the screen where he had shaken the rickety door.

"Look at you guys. Stopped you cold, didn't I?"

"Shit, Trey," Alex breathed, releasing the tension that had built up in that one second.

"Watch your mouth, young man," Trey said with false authority. "Anyway, Ma's gonna have a fit if you three walk into the kitchen with the mud on your shoes. Trust me, you don't wanna come through this way. My ears are still ringing from when I made that mistake."

Iain and Cole turned away from the door to enter the house through the front door. Alex leaned in towards the door. "You really sick?"

"Hell no. I just didn't want to go the store," Trey whispered. He emphasized "the store" as though it were an ominous place.

"What's so bad about going to the damn store," Alex questioned with a raised brow.

"Ah, little brother. You still haven't gone to the store yet. Well," Trey said, "let's just say there's a whole bunch of 'em Virginia leeches at the store."

"Virginia leeches?"

"Go see for yourself," Trey said, nodding towards the direction his brothers had gone.

Alex gave his brother a curious glace before jogging to catch up to Iain and Cole. As he headed towards the front of the house, he thought he heard a collective sigh from ahead. He caught a whiff of a heady scent of perfume. And he slowed down. Virginia leeches, Alex finally realized. He saw them – a group of all the eligible young ladies of Virginia had gathered at their door. Their eyes had been following Iain and Cole as they turned the corner from the side of the house. The fawning ladies greeted them enthusiastically. The two brothers smiled politely and nodded. The ladies practically melted, despite the cold weather. Alex's older brothers – Iain at twenty four, Trey at twenty two and Cole at twenty years old – mostly took after their father physically: dirty blond hair, square jaw, a tall physique with rounded muscles. Iain and Cole inherited their father's hazel eyes as well. Alex, on the other hand, had a mat of unruly, straight brown hair that refused to stay flat against his head no matter what he tried. He did not have the full-bodied, strong physical form of his brothers. He was certainly tall and had wide shoulders, but he was more sinewy in form, his muscles taut. Trey and he inherited their mother's green eyes; though Trey's green eyes always had a merry glint, Alex's was a more intense shade under his dark brows.

He came into their view and saw the ladies' attention immediately shift towards him.

"Alexander Clayborne," one girl said dreamily.

He discreetly scanned the group and breathed a sigh of relief. She was not there, at least. Alex, like his brothers had done, nodded and pursed his lips into what he thought was a polite smile.

"Look at that gorgeous dimple," another giggled.

At the safety of the front door, Alex turned halfway towards the ladies. "You ladies should be getting home," he said and hinted at the darkening sky with his eyes. "It's getting dark."

"Oh, and he's thoughtful, too…"

"He's so wonderful…"

Alex, inside the house, shut the door and snapped all the locks into place. Trey was waiting for him at the door to the kitchen. He pointed towards the door. "Virginia leeches," he said. Trey helped him place the lumber near the fireplace in the living room. They walked into to the kitchen where Mrs. Clayborne was making the final preparations for dinner. The smell of hot food was heavy and filled the entire house.

"You can thank your handsome brother Iain for attracting the leeches," Trey said as he sat down at the rectangular dinner table.

"Dammit, Iain, why do you always have to attract the ladies?" Cole teased.

"Quit it, the both of you," Iain said with a hint of a smile that contradicted his words.

So that was what had ticked him off, Alex thought. He had been followed all the way from the store to their home. And with the heavy tension that had been surrounding the family in recent days, any sort of stalking business was of a deep concern. Even if it was just a bunch of young girls. Are we just getting paranoid?

"Trey, dear, I wish you'd stop calling those lovely young ladies 'leeches,'" Mrs. Clayborne interrupted.

"They're hardly lovely, Ma," said Alex as he helped her set the table.

"They drool," Cole added, shaking his head as he stole a biscuit off the plate their mother had just placed on the table. "They ain't like the girls out West."

"Hell no, they ain't," Trey agreed.

"I think it's perfect," Mrs. Clayborne said. "You boys'll need to settle down someday, afterall."

Trey made a face. "With one of them? Count me out."

"Iain'll be the first to go anyway. You can suffer first," Cole said to him.

"The hell I'm going first. Besides," Iain said, looking at Alex, "I think Alex already has a broad."

"What?" exclaimed Cole.

"Shit, really?"

"Trey!"

"Sorry, Ma."

Mrs. Clayborne turned her attention to Alex who had finally taken a seat at the table next to Iain. "Well, Alex! Why haven't you invited her to dinner?"

"She ain't my broad. She's a psycho," he said simply.

"Who's a psycho?" Mr. Clayborne entered the kitchen. He was a robust man in his fifties. Time had been kind to him for he still retained the good looks of his youth and his gray hair and wrinkles only softened his sharp features. He was happily greeted by the family as he took his place at the head of the table.

"Hey Dad. Cindy McDonohay," Alex answered.

"Ah, the McDonohays," Mr. Clayborne said, recognizing the name. "Good reputation, they have."

"Too bad they've got a ditzy daughter," Alex mumbled.

"Alex," Mrs. Clayborne warned.

"Sorry, Ma," he apologized. "But it's true."

The brothers shared a laugh and the family eagerly commenced their dinner of roast chicken, soft biscuits, corn and steaming mashed potatoes. At least the meals were still just as good as they were back in Arizona.