Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.
Summary: Captain Kirkland's ship is damaged and he has to make a stop in a New York harbor. When Alfred F. Jones refuses to fix Arthur's ship, will Arthur turn away or will he go west and use force?
Survival of the Toughest
Chapter 1
Brilliant, emerald eyes peaked open from beneath dirty blonde eyelashes. They scanned the wooden room for a sign of movement. The pirate who possessed those green eyes was none other than the most feared pirate that has ever sailed the seven seas: Captain Arthur Kirkland. Arthur sat up from his bed and glanced out the porthole to find an estimate as to what time it was. Since there were only hints of light shining through the clouds, Arthur concluded that dawn was approaching. A thin wave of anger swept over him, because something woke him up.
A cannon ball shot through the captain's cabin, narrowly missing Arthur's tired figure. The captain scrunched his pale nose up in annoyance as his emerald eyes flashed with realization. He heard the accents that had stormed aboard his ship: French and Spanish. Arthur stood and stormed over to his desk. With a few swift movements, he had clothed himself. For the final touch, Arthur wrapped his gloved fingers around the brim of his incredulously gaudy hat and placed it firmly on his head. He secured a sword sheath to his waist before slamming open the doors that led out onto the deck. His flashing, emerald eyes met with France's flirtatious gaze and Spain's green, gold flecked eyes.
"You each ruined my sleep," Arthur's British accented voice snarled. He ignored the various pirates that ran around gutting each other and kept his glare in line with his arch nemeses.
"Pardonne-nous, mon ami," Capitaine Francis Bonnefoy's voice chimed as his hand rested on his chest, "Capitán Antonio Carriedo and I have only just decided to destroy a common enemy."
Capitán Carriedo nodded with a friendly smile, "Si, we thought it'd be easier for all of us this way – except for you, that is." Both the Spanish and French pirates stood with a complete air of confidence. They were sure that this dawn would be the last they would see of Captain Kirkland.
The British captain stared at them, annoyed and displeased. Due to his fatigue, Captain Kirkland's stance was very relaxed and a bit shaky. With venom in his voice, the captain spoke, "You are both fools to team up this way against me. Leave my ship now or suffer the consequences." He ignored the crewmembers of three different countries fighting and cussing around them.
"Very well, dear Arthur, we are warned," Capitaine Bonnefoy's arms waved about casually and in tune with his tone.
Captain Kirkland glared, "You are promised." He nodded his head towards Capitaine Bonnefoy's ship, "Go back to your cute, little boat, Bonnefoy." Capitaine Bonnefoy shook his head and with a smile, he drew forth his sword and darted at Kirkland, his sword aimed at the British captain's heart. Captain Kirkland leapt up and onto the hilt of Capitaine Bonnefoy's sword with one foot. He took Capitaine Bonnefoy's pause of surprise to stomp on his face and leap up and flip over Capitán Carriedo. The British captain held his ground and faced Capitán Carriedo's back.
With a sudden yelp, Capitaine Bonnefoy fell to the wooden deck. He sat up and rubbed his face where the heel of Captain Kirkland's boot dug into his face. Capitán Carriedo turned and drew his sword. He moved into a stance, preparing to engage in swordplay against Captain Kirkland. Captain Kirkland drew his sword slowly and took his stance against Capitán Carriedo. The pair of green eyes gazed at each other deeply just before the Spaniard thrusted his sword forward. The Brit clashed his sword against the Spaniard's and the two captains began their swordplay.
From where Capitaine Bonnefoy sat, it looked as if the other two captains were engaged in a graceful dance with their swords clanging in tune with their movements. He stood and brushed himself off, careful to avoid Capitán Carriedo's and Captain Kirkland's swordplay. His sapphire eyes glanced at both his ship and Capitán Carriedo's ship. With a gasp, Capitaine Bonnefoy called out his ally's name, "Capitán Carriedo!"
When Capitán Carriedo jumped back from Captain Kirkland's slash, he glanced back at Capitaine Bonnefoy, curious as to why the Frenchman was darting a finger out at the choppy sea. Capitán Carriedo looked at the boats and then gave out a short yell. Both the Spanish and French crews were aboard their respective ships and were starting to sail off, leaving their captains. Captain Kirkland stifled a laugh, but held his smirk. "It looks as if your crews don't think they can handle mine."
Capitán Carriedo sheathed his sword and turned to the mast. He took hold of the roped ladder and prepared to climb. Captain Kirkland's sword kissed Capitán Carriedo's throat as Captain Kirkland's voice sang out, "Uh, uh."
"Capitán Carriedo," Capitaine Bonnefoy yelled, causing Capitán Carriedo to lean back drastically. Captain Kirkland looked at Capitaine Bonnefoy just in time to see the Frenchman's pistol shoot. Since Capitaine Bonnefoy was not the best of shots, he had managed to accidently shoot Captain Kirkland's left hand instead of his main torso.
Capitán Carriedo took this time to scramble up the rope ladder with Capitaine Bonnefoy right behind him. "Gracias, Capitán Bonnefoy," He yelled down to his partner before reaching the crow's nest.
"Tu es les bienvenus, Capitaine Carriedo," Capitaine Bonnefoy hurriedly spoke as he stood up beside Capitán Carriedo. The Spaniard handed Capitaine Bonnefoy a long section of rope and held onto his own section tightly.
Captain Kirkland dropped his sword and clutched his hand as he glared up at the two captains. He yelled out his command, "Open fire!" With bullets flying about them, the Spanish and French captains pushed off the edge of the crow's nest as hard as possible, causing them to fall far into the air. The ropes were yanked, pulling up the sail and pulling the two captains across the deck. The two swung up, just above the decks of their own ships and released the rope. With a thud, the two captains landed on their own ships. They stood and laughed at their accomplishment, leaving Captain Kirkland to scowl at them. The two sailed away towards the sun, back to Europe.
Captain Kirkland stood and ordered the most competent crew member to dress his wound. The crew member waited for Captain Kirkland to shed his dark glove and then wrapped his captain's hand tightly while listening to his cursing. "That damn frog and Spaniard," Captain Kirkland hissed. "As soon as I get back to Europe, I'll have their heads on a spit." Throughout this one-sided conversation, the crew member wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.
After the dressing of his wound was done, Captain Kirkland put his black glove back on again and stormed out onto the deck. He watched his crew try to salvage what was left. With a frustrated sigh, he turned towards the west to see land off in the distance. "I'm afraid we'll have to stop at that harbor," Captain Kirkland muttered under his breath.
A crew member that was nearby questioned, "What's wrong with that harbor, Captain?"
Without taking his eyes off the land, he answered, "It just so happens that it's the New York harbor." He hesitantly commanded his crew to lower the sails and ride the wind towards the harbor and his crew loyally obeyed. The pirate ship eased into the harbor. Its slow sailing only added onto the fear and anticipation that seeped into the citizens' minds. As they saw the ship approach, mothers urged their children inside the house while the men made their way over to the docks, preparing to destroy a possible threat. Captain Kirkland gazed at the men, half-interested in what they had to say or do. The other half of him was fixated on tying the ship to the dock and dreading to see the Spirit of Rebelliousness at work. The Brit knew full well that he was literally strolling into dangerous territory as he was walking down to the dock. He kept his arms swaying at his sides as he walked past the grimacing Americans and he kept his face completely emotionless. He hurried his pace as he made it out of the crowd of men and towards the town hall. The pirate pushed the large, wooden door open that led into the town hall and proceeded to walk through the large vestibule.
The inside was modest with a huge American flag hanging directly over a secretary's desk. It made the pirate feel positively ill. He looked down under the flag to see a young man leaning over the secretary desk, conversing with his subordinate with gusto. As the young man spoke, he waved his arms around and his hair shook with excitement.
Captain Kirkland cleared his throat after grimacing at the flag, causing the exuberant blonde to look up. His crystal blue eyes flashed in surprise at the sight of the crimson dressed pirate. The captain's emerald eyes stared coldly at the blonde while the blonde's shocked face slowly morphed into a snide one. "Well, well, well, it seems as if someone of great value and little time has decided to grace my poor, free existence," the blonde's voice that was once fast and light was now slow and venomous.
Captain Kirkland let out a small huff of disapproval, "You should think yourself lucky that I am, Alfred. You don't have enough decency to keep wild pigs from running through your streets." Their eyes stayed at a stalemate as the Brit spoke, "I will speak to you in your office—"
The doors to the town hall slammed open and a flash of yellow darted by Captain Kirkland and stopped directly in front of Alfred. The flash of yellow was an exquisite dress with a hoop skirt. The silk, sunny ribbon held the torso of the dress together just above the wearer's hips. Alfred's eyes widened slightly as his sarcastic look turned into a content one. "Destiny," he smiled brightly, "little sister, what a nice surprise! Is that a new, yellow velvet dress?"
Destiny was quite obviously from the southern United States. Her dirty blonde hair curled elegantly just above her shoulders and her luminous, jade eyes were stern. Her features were kittenish and gave off the very essence of the term 'southern belle'. "Alfred," her soft, southern accented voice broke Captain Kirkland's foul mood, "thank you for your notice in my attire, but I'm here as a representative of my country."
Captain Kirkland thought, 'Country?' As far as he knew, Alfred and his sister, Destiny, were close. At least they had been when they were fighting against him. The Brit cringed at the thought of the Revolutionary War.
Alfred's expression was slightly pained. "Excuse me," he voice choked out, "but what are you talking about?" He noticed a cruel grin growing across Captain Kirkland's face, but he directed his attention back to Destiny, "As far as I know, you're still part of me."
Destiny shook her head, "No, I'm not. I'm seceding from you and I want your soldiers to stay out of Charleston Harbor." If she was furious, it didn't show in her voice, "As of now my country is the Confederate States of America. I have a few of the other southern states to back me up on this and we don't want anything to do with you." Her posture faltered only a little as she was stating what she wanted. Noticing this, she immediately corrected her flaw. As a southern representative and a lady, she could not possibly be caught in a moment of imperfection, "You will recognize us as a separate country, big brother."
After a long pause and glances between Captain Kirkland's and Destiny's gazes, Alfred let out a sigh. "Destiny," he began, "I know how you feel about the high taxes." He glanced at Captain Kirkland and then back to his younger sister, "I know that you are angry that I'm telling you that you can't have any slaves, so if you want to be a separate country…" Destiny's eyes widened a little, eager to see Alfred give her want she wanted. "I say to go ahead."
Captain Kirkland's mouth hung open noticeably. He had not expected that reaction. He thought back to the numerous times that Alfred had begged for independence and acted out when he was denied. The captain slowly closed his mouth, waiting to hear for more.
"Destiny," Alfred added, "I'll let you be an independent nation, but one of my Majors has to move some supplies from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter. Now, I know you don't want any of my soldiers in Charleston Harbor, but you're going to have to live with this. As long as you don't shoot at me first, you're free," He held up an index finger and spoke slowly and clearly to emphasize his words, "but if you happen to do just that, I'm taking you back whether you like it or not."
Destiny's mouth curled up at the ends, "That sounds fair." Alfred nodded in response. Destiny turned and strolled across the floor. She stopped beside Captain Kirkland and her jade eyes met with his emerald ones. She hesitantly nodded her head and curtsied respectively, "Good noon, Mr. Kirkland."
Captain Kirkland's heart felt a bit lighter. He remembered when Alfred and his sister were mere colonies. Destiny was always close and loyal to Arthur Kirkland. He took a step away from Destiny and bowed to her like a gentleman would. As he removed his hat from his head, he was Arthur Kirkland, the greatest gentleman on the planet and Captain Kirkland, the greatest pirate of the seven seas, was gone, "Good noon, Miss Jones."
They each stood straight like the lady and gentleman they were and the lady continued to walk outside. At the sound of the door closing, Captain Kirkland returned and he sent a look at Alfred, "What in God's name made you grant her independence?"
Alfred walked towards a door to the side of the secretary's desk and he opened it, "We'll talk about it in here." He walked through the doorway and Captain Kirkland could no longer see him.
The Brit walked along the wooden floor and through the doorway, without noticing the secretary's obvious fear of pirates. The captain closed the door behind him and stood in front of his former colony's desk. He asked, "Well? Are you going to tell me why you stupidly let her go?"
Alfred sat down in his chair and leaned back in it. He rested his elbows on the arm rests and laced his fingers together, resting them under his nose. He stared at his desk, purposely ignoring Arthur. At Captain Kirkland's annoyed grunt, Alfred looked up with serious, cerulean eyes, "Yes." His tone caught Arthur off guard, but the pirate did not care to show it. "Yes, I'll tell you exactly what I was thinking." He did not speak, taking in Arthur's changing expression. It began as annoyed and then it turned even more impatient. Suddenly, it showed realization. With a pained smirk, Alfred explained, "Clearly, you know. I remembered becoming an independent country myself and I know how Destiny feels. I was being bossy, with good reason, but she didn't see it – the reason, that is. Naturally, she wanted out. She was sick of the taxes I made her pay for the Revolutionary War and when I said she couldn't have any slaves, she realized that her people wouldn't be able to make any money without them. I gave her plenty of reasons to hate me, but she's my sister. She just wanted to get out of this 'follower' role. She has every right to." His voice trailed off.
Arthur waited for Alfred to speak, but decided to take the job of talking into his own hands when Alfred grew silent, "That can't be all. There must be more to your thought process than just feeling. There's got to be some sense there, too."
Alfred's gaze turned cold and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, because he knew how Arthur hated it. He rested his cheeks in the palms of his hands, causing him to be hunched over, "You'd like to know what helped me to make the decision?"
"For quite a time, now, I've been asking," Arthur hissed, attempting to ignore Alfred's bad manners. He added quickly, "And remove your elbows from the desk's surface. You're such a pig."
Alfred stood and slammed his hands down on his desk, his face a mere foot from Arthur's. He shouted, "Death!" The young man elaborated after waiting a few moments, "I wanted to avoid painful, agonizing death and sadness. I wanted to avoid war!" His angered expression relaxed as he stood up straight and fixed his bowtie as a form of distraction. Arthur stared blankly at him. "I know that Destiny is foolish to become her own country and I know we're too annoyed with each other right now to avoid war. I've been trying to make all sorts of agreements with her so that we could avoid it. She's paranoid, so there will be a war," Alfred glanced around his office while explaining. He stared into Arthur's eyes and for the first time, Arthur saw cold, hard logic swimming in them, "and I plan to beat her senseless—so senseless that she'll feel humiliated for even thinking about becoming her own country." He ran a hand through his hair and he relaxed his stance. He sat back down in his seat, "When I'm done beating her, I'm going to welcome her back with open arms. I'm going to be lenient and understanding." He glared at Arthur, "I will be everything that you weren't and we'll be a happy family working together again, united against all injustice." He smiled, "Just like a family of heroes should be."
Arthur, thoroughly taken off guard, closed his gaping mouth. He had never thought Alfred to be so manipulative or cunning. It seemed so evil, the things that Alfred was talking about, but he was doing it to unify his family again – just as Arthur wanted with Alfred. Alfred glanced out the window at the birds that were twittering away in their tree nests. Arthur examined the new, young nation in awe, finally seeing a hint of an adult in him.
Captain Kirkland shook the shock and sensation off and stated why he was in New York in the first place, "Alfred," The only part of Alfred that moved to pay attention was his captivating, blue eyes, "I'm here because my ship is a wreck and I'm wounded. I expect you to fix them both—"
The door to the office opened, interrupting Captain Kirkland, "Mr. Jones, Sir," The secretary poked his head through the empty doorway, "your sister is here. Ally is waiting for you."
A grin appeared on Alfred's face as he leapt up from his seat and hurried out the door. Captain Kirkland stood, staring at the empty chair. Had Alfred really no respect for him?
Captain Kirkland heard Alfred shout, "Ally, my little sister!" He could only imagine his idiotic grin stretching across his face as he gave his sibling a strong, bear hug.
A booming, feminine voice shouted with a heavy western accent, "Howdy, Alfie!" Captain Kirkland's eyes widened. Was it possible for someone to be even louder, stronger, and more ill-mannered than Alfred? No, it couldn't be possible.
Alfred's happy voice rang out when he was done hugging his sister, "Ally, what're you doing here in New York?"
Captain Kirkland heard Ally's boots clop across the wooden floor, "Well, does a girl hafta have a reason to visit her big brother?" Ally's thick accent made Arthur cringe. The exaggerated 'R's and elongated 'A's nearly made his ears bleed. She gave a hearty laugh, "I jus' came up north 'cause I miss ya'll up here! I been all 'round the ol' breadbasket and I figured that ya miss me jus' as much as I miss ya! So here I am." She grinned, almost challenging the length of Alfred's smile.
"You know, Ally, I sometimes worry about you out in the west," Alfred crossed his arms as he watched Ally skip around. "It's so dangerous out there," Alfred felt his chin in thought.
"HA," Arthur covered his mouth, holding back a sarcastic laugh. That was exactly what he had told Alfred when he was a child and now he was telling his sister.
Ally stopped and looked at the doorway, "Who's that?"
Alfred glanced at the doorway into his office and rolled his eyes. "He's just a fisherman, Ally," he dismissed Arthur's laugh and knew full well what he was saying, "Anyway, the west is dangerous."
"Why, Alfie, I am shocked and surprised," Ally rested her hands on her hips, "ya always say that be it a fisherman, slave, or a prince, everyone's important." She laughed, "But ya'll jus' forget, I guess. Besides, the west ain't all dangerous or nothin'. Well, it's only dangerous when I have a hankerin' for some justice. Then it's dangerous – for outlaws!"
The siblings burst out in laughter as Arthur rested his forehead in his palm. Alfred calmed his loud laughter and went on with the conversation, "Did you see Destiny leave?"
"Yeah, I saw her leavin'," Ally had quieted down a bit as well, "She seemed real happy." She shrugged, "Well, her middle name is Joy."
Alfred smiled, "Well, yeah. The three inalienable rights: Life, Liberty, and the right to pursue Happiness make up the code we live by: Freedom, Liberty, and Joy."
Ally nodded and then realized why she had visited Alfred, "I noticed ya'll northerners and southerners fightin' in Kansas. Ya gotta calm down, Alfie. Ya'll are punchin' each other and killin' each other. Ya'll are treatin' each other worse than a hunter treats a 'coon!"
Alfred nodded, "Yeah, I know." He hugged his sister, "I'm sorry for making your precious Kansas bleed, but we're all done with that now." Ally looked at Alfred as if she did not know what her brother was talking about. Alfred released Ally from the hug and explained, "It's just… I just let Destiny become her own country." Ally's azure eyes widened. Alfred continued, "You know how paranoid Destiny is. There's going to be a war. I just know it. I was hoping that you would fight with me on my side."
Ally's heart sank as she sat on the secretary's desk. She rested her right hand on her chest and looked at Alfred as if her heart was just skewered, "Aw, no… I… Well, you know, I… Alfie," her eyes blinked back tears of frustration, "Alfred, you-you're my brother and Destiny—she's—well, she's my sister." Alfred stared into her eyes, waiting for an answer. She bit her lip, "Ya'll are my closest friends and ya'll are m-my family. I-I can't choose, Alfie. Ya'll are very good to me, considerin' the circumstances."
Alfred placed his hands on his hips, "What circumstances?" He had a bad feeling that an often avoided topic was coming up.
Ally stood up and drew her fists to her heart, trying to explain, "I… I'm jus' a territory. I don't think I can fight anyways. How great am I if…if Napoleon sold me ta yer man, Jeff, sixty years ago?"
"Ally," Alfred said sternly, "you are not just a territory. At the time, I thought Jefferson was crazy to use up so much of our money when we had so much debt to pay and I couldn't believe that Napoleon wanted to sell you." He muttered snidely, "I guess Napoleon was so desperate to conquer Europe that he'd sell a golden fortune like you." He rested his right hand against his dear sister's cheek and his thumb pushed an escaped tear aside. "Right now, I'm just glad Napoleon did sell you." The two siblings shared another hug for a few minutes, before Ally departed from it. "Think about fighting alongside me, okay? I want to keep our family united."
Ally nodded quietly, "Yeah." She paused and then went on talking, "Yeah, I'll think about joinin' ya, brother, but remember that I need time to think." Alfred nodded his head in agreement and told her to take her time. Ally smiled and waved, "I'm going on back to Wichita, so long, Alfie."
Alfred returned Ally's smile and wave, "So long, Ally. I wish you a safe journey." She sent a smile in his direction as a form of thank you and he stayed there until his sister had closed the door opposite of him. Alfred sighed and walked back into his office. He sat back down and leaned back in his chair, "What was it you wanted?"
Captain Kirkland decided to seal away his anger that was left over from Alfred ignoring and interrupting him. He yanked off his glove. Alfred saw the bandages and dried blood that originated from Arthur's palm. "You are going to fix my hand and my ship," Captain Kirkland stated in his British accented voice.
Alfred let out a laugh and rubbed his eyes, "That's a good joke." He rested his arms on his chair's armrests and met with Captain Kirkland's gaze. "I will not fix your hand or your ship. Go get someone else to do it. Now, get out of my office," Alfred waved him off, "and get out of New York."
Captain Kirkland glared at Alfred, his anger seething, "You will fix both my hand and my ship."
Alfred leaned forward, his deep tone threatening to dice Arthur's accent, "I will not. Now, skedaddle off before that wounded hand turns into a pair."
Captain Kirkland's anger fumed and begged to be released, but the gentleman in Captain Kirkland, decided that he had a better idea and bottled up the anger. His furious, emerald eyes slowly relaxed and he pulled his glove on again. "Very well," his calm voice spoke, "I will leave New York." Without another word and without a goodbye, Captain Kirkland strolled out of the town hall the same way he strolled in; with a plan.
The captain waltzed back through the swelling crowd at the dock and onto his beloved ship. He called over three members of his crew and had them follow him into his quarters. Captain Kirkland had chosen three men to join him on his short quest. Two of these three men had lean muscle, while the third was strong and robust. The captain knew that the group was close, so they would be extra cautious when things would get tough.
"Men," Captain Kirkland began after the door to his cabin was closed, "Alfred has refused to supply us with what we need to fix this ship," he rummaged through his charts as he explained his plan, "so naturally, I've decided to use force to achieve my goal."
The man with the most muscle questioned, "Are we going to burn down the capital, Captain?"
Captain Kirkland halted his rummaging to stare straight into the man's eyes as if his suggestion was absolutely mental. "No," he finally spoke, "no, that's been done." The captain pulled out a map and spread it out on his desk to reveal the United States of America, "What we're going to do is use force, as I said, but we aren't going to burn anything." He met with the gaze of his crew mates and saw the obvious disappointment in their eyes. With a bit of a groan, he continued, "Alright, we can burn things if it's absolutely necessary. It's a long trip out west and we'll need to steal suitable horses."
One of the lean muscled men asked, "What are we fetching out west, Sir?"
"We're just picking up a little something for Alfred in Wichita, Kansas," Captain Kirkland said with a smirk. He pulled a feather pen out of one of his desk drawers and dipped it in ink. The captain marked an "X" on the map's southeast corner of Kansas.
The second man with lean muscle and the shortest of the group, leaned over the map to see where they would be going, "Captain Kirkland, I thought we were going to Wichita."
"We are," Captain Kirkland rolled the map up and tucked it in his coat, "but we can't be sure where in Wichita our target is. We'll be looking all around. With strong horses, this trip will take around 55 to 60 days in total." He watched his section of crew react. They weren't surprised, as expected. Captain Kirkland knew that they were prepared for anything and everything. There wasn't anything that was going to give him a hard time with those three with him. After all, Captain Kirkland knew the seven seas like the back of his hand and he's tamed them magnificently. How could capturing Ally and roaming across the west be any challenge?
Captain Kirkland informed the rest of his crew to watch the ship while he was out west and to not cause any trouble. The last thing he wanted was to have the Union Army on his tail. Without hesitation, he and his three crew members that he had decided to take with him stole four of the best horses they could find and a good many supplies as well.
After acquiring all supplies needed for the journey to Kansas, the group set out across the new frontier. They stopped to eat and rest, but other than that, they were on their horses every day, all day. Captain Kirkland was determined to finish this quickly.
At noon on the twenty-fifth day, on the way to Wichita, Kansas, Captain Kirkland's seal on his emotional side weakened only a little. He gazed at the trees and the long, flowing grass. It reminded him of when he first arrived on the North American continent. He smiled softly to himself, remembering finding a little infant in the sea of grass. He remembered that he tried his hardest to win him over, but then the Frenchman tried to win over the infant with his glorious cooking. It was all hopeless until the infant chose Arthur instead. His sulking had called the young child over and it made the child want to care for him.
Captain Kirkland gazed at the blue sky, watching the enormous clouds blowing over him. He remembered how young Alfred would claim that he would one day run so fast and jump so high, that he would catch a cloud or a star and wish. Little Alfred, as Arthur recalled, used to be exuberant and a very happy child. He remembered that whenever he had to leave, Alfred was always so against Arthur leaving him. He was in dire need of attention all the time. Arthur remembered the day when Alfred had stopped hugging him when he greeted him. He remembered that Alfred had gradually grown apart from him and he recalled the first fight they had. Quite obviously, it hurt to think about and so, Arthur held a stiff upper lip and Captain Kirkland decided to tuck his more emotional side away for safe keeping.
Captain Kirkland looked up at the trail ahead of him and noticed that a town was in the distance. With a smirk, he announced to the rest of his miniature crew, "There she is, Lads! Wichita, Kansas!" He heard his men cheer briefly to show that they were indeed happy to finally rest. His crew slowed their horses down as he kicked into the horse's hide to force it to run faster.
"S-Sir," the shortest crew mate with lean muscle called after Arthur, "you shouldn't tire the horse like that! We still need it to get back to the ship!"
Captain Kirkland laughed at his crew mate's worry. "Oh, please," he yelled, "a little hard work won't kill this fine horse!" The captain was the first to arrive at a saloon. With ease, he hopped off his stolen horse and tied it to the wood stand that was strategically placed in front of a drinking trough. He stood in front of the dusty, wooden steps that led up to a porch of sorts. He gazed at the odd-looking door. It could not lock and it had no top of bottom. How silly it was to have a door that could welcome criminals. He glanced at where he had come, seeing his crew mates a few yards off. With a shrug, Captain Kirkland strolled up the dusty steps, over the creaking porch, and into the dark saloon.
He looked around, taking in all of the glares of mysterious eyes and taking full notice in all of the hands clamped to their guns. Every customer in the saloon had a ten gallon hat or something of the like. Every last customer wore a vest of some type and close fitting pants, tucked into fine, leather boots with silver and gold spurs. Dirt was caked onto the floor as well as many of the men's faces. Captain Kirkland lifted his own boot and grimaced slightly at the filthiness of his own apparel. He dismissed it and looked at the bar tender who cleaned his glass mugs with the same dirty rag he used to clean the counter. The bar tender joined the rest of the cowboys and outlaws in gazing awkwardly at the captain; a regular fish out of water.
Captain Kirkland crossed his arms with a hard gaze. His two lean muscled crew mates stood on either side of him and his largest crew mate stood behind him. "Hmph," Captain Kirkland disapprovingly huffed and stomped over to the bar tender, "You," he so lovingly addressed the bar tender, "I'm looking for someone. Perhaps you could give me some direction and some rum." The bar tender took a dry glass out from a cabinet and filled it with whiskey.
One of the men, a cocky man that seemed to be thirty years or younger, commented to his friend, "Captain Feathers seems to be compensating for something." He took a gulp of his straight whiskey, finishing it off. With a drunken slur, he leaned back in his chair and laughed, "Why that's gotta be the stupidest accent I ever did hear!"
Captain Kirkland glanced at his strongest crew mate, motioning for him to collect the cocky man. As the crew mate stormed over to the man, the captain inspected his drink and swirled it a bit. He sipped it and his face contorted into a most distasteful snarl for a few seconds. He paused and took a heaping gulp as his strongest crew mate hung the cocky man by his boots behind the captain. Captain Kirkland stifled a groan as a woody fire slunk down his throat. He left the drink on the counter and turned to see the chest of the man who mocked him. It was true that the captain's face was a tad flushed, but the cocky man's cheeks were burning from the whiskey.
Captain Kirkland's eyes were still cruel and his voice was no more lenient, "What was that you said?" His right hand gripped his sword's hilt and drew his sword out from its sheath. He let the shining blade rest against the cocky man's neck, "Something about my accent or height?"
The cocky man gulped as fear embedded itself into his bright eyes, "N-no, I ain't talkin' 'bout yer height at all!" It was as if he became sober over the course of a few seconds.
The cocky man's friend stood and ran out of the saloon. The taller of the two lean muscled crew mates pointed his tanned thumb after the friend and asked, "Should we bring that guy back, Captain?"
Captain Kirkland's eyes stayed, gazing into the cocky man's eyes. There was now an air of careless humor floating around the captain's face. "No," he grinned maliciously, "let the coward leave." He paused and his grin relaxed a bit, "You said nothing? Nothing at all?" He slowed his second sentence to last until he was done taking his time dragging the tip of his blade across the cocky man's bare neck. A thin trail of blood trickled down under the man's chin and his cheek. A small whimper scampered out of the man's throat.
The poor excuses for doors were slammed open, causing bits of wood to fly a few feet from ground zero. A woman shouted, "HALT!"
Captain Kirkland gasped and yanked his sword across the man's neck, too far into it. "Oh," the captain looked down at his pants and boots, "Such a pity…" He held out his left hand to the shorter of the two lean muscled crew mates, physically asking for a cloth of some sort. The shorter crew mate took the bar tender's cloth and placed it in the captain's hand. The captain wiped the blood off from his shining sword and sheathed it. "Drop him," he commanded to his largest crew mate, who obeyed, and then the captain looked at the woman that had burst into the saloon.
Her cerulean eyes were large and full of determination. Her spectacles were perched at the bridge of her turned up nose and the softness of her cheeks matched her gentle complexion that was currently hidden under a thin layer of dust. There was one stubborn piece of curl that protruded from just above the right side of her forehead where her hair part was. Naturally, a beige hat was perched on her head, the sides waved up and the top dipped in the center. The thin rope that laced through her hat was tied under her chin to keep her hat on her head. Her curled, dirty blonde hair bounced about her long neck which was hidden under a blue and white starred bandana. Her cream gloved hands rested on her hips and her hefty chest was held together by a cream shirt that was tied into a strong, tight knot. Her torso gathered together neatly at her exposed and well-toned midriff. Her hips were clothed with a coffee colored skirt with tan, thin beads that were spaced apart at the skirt's hem and stopped just above her knees. Her leather boots had intricate designs that were sewn into the ankles and golden spurs turned lightly in the wind. Her leather vest had a gold star pinned into the right breast section and it clearly stated 'Sheriff'. Judging from the yards of rope and two pearly white guns she had hanging from her leather belt, she was prepared to back up her title. The last thing Captain Kirkland noticed was her soft lips. How delicate they looked and it was as if they joined together to make a petite, pink rosebud above her firm chin.