fandom: Deadwood
length: 2521 words
Rating M for language, violence
Gen, background for Dan
Disclaimer: I don't own anything re: Deadwood; It is HBO and David Milch's entirely
Resemblance to actual people is unintended, other than documented historical figures
Summary: Part of an on-going prequel to the Deadwood characters of 1876: Imagined account of how Dan came to work for Al
The swaying of the stagecoach was putting the two whores to sleep, the redhead Wanda snoring softly as she leaned up against Dolly's shoulder, curling into her plump side as she dozed. Jewel was tired and uncomfortable, squirming in an attempt to find a comfortable position, using her hands to move her bad leg from time to time. Heavy damp-smelling woolen lap blankets had been handed out by the driver when they started out. The driver was almost positive they'd be in Virginia City before any serious snow. Al breathed in the cold heavy air that had a moist tang to it and hoped the driver and he shared the same idea of "serious".
He sat straight-legged in his seat, twitching the window curtain to one side now and then to look at the fading sunlight against the surrounding landscape of rocks and forest. He had hoped the driver could get them to a decent-sized town before nightfall, but he was now starting to have his doubts. A muscle in his jaw twitched; as the day faded, so had the traffic on the stage road. The last wagon traveling near them had turned north two hours ago, leaving them alone. He itched to be up beside the driver, seeing for himself what lay ahead on the road, but two returning miners held the front and rear outside seats, wrapped up in buffalo skins to withstand the chill.
That's what they had said they were, anyways. They were stiff-necked as he introduced himself, and didn't spare extra glances for the girls—unusual for mining types. Newish-looking saddlebags had been thrown into an inside compartment under the coach floor before they started loading up the top with crates and bundles of pickaxes, sledgehammers, and other supplies. Taciturn types, their posture and manner just a fraction different from miners he had met before leaving Virginia City. Maybe bosses instead of miners, he thought, as he tried again to stretch out the ache in his lower back.
Jewel had finally gotten comfortable enough to stay in one spot on the seat, stiff leg stuck out in front of her, her head falling against the side of the coach. Al checked his watch and the window again. Another thirty minutes and they'd be in twilight; he could see a sliver of moon already in the cold sky on the horizon. The coach started swaying as it went into a sharp turn. Al figured he'd wait until they were set straight on the road again and then ask the driver when the hell he thought they'd get to a town. He braced himself against the heavy list when the sudden stop threw him backward.
All three women were jolted awake by the sharp jerk. Each one became fully aware that they weren't moving, yet Al hadn't started telling them to get their things together. They all became still and quiet, eyes on him. They watched as he eased the side of his window curtain back, listening to voices outside. He could make out two men on horseback, at least one other man standing in the road. There was enough light left to see that all were armed, a rifle pointed at each miner and the driver.
"We ain't looking to hurt nobody. Just start throwing down your strongbox and we'll go from there." No argument from the driver, but he could hear sharp whispers from the miners.
"Everybody out here, now."
The man on foot flung open the coach door while Al put on his most cooperative face, hands where they could be seen.
"Take it easy, pal. It's just three ladies and me in here, and I ain't trying to be no fuckin' hero."
Heavy wool scarves were over the men's faces, leaving only their eyes and the bridge of their noses visible. He glanced at each of them, careful not to let his eyes stay on anyone too long. A scrawny jittery-looking man on a bay was gesturing to the driver with a shotgun. He figured the other had gone to the back to keep a gun on the miners. Dolly started breathing hard enough for him to hear.
"Calm down, girls. They're just here to rob the coach, nobody's looking to hurt you."
Brown eyes squinting against the cold showed over the scarf of the man in front of him. Bastard's built like a fucking bear,he thought. Reminds me of somebody.
"Y'all go ahead and get out. Come on, now."
Sounds like a country drawl, maybe Kentucky or Tennessee, Al thought. He moved closer to the big man.
"That one's a cripple. She's gonna need a little more time to get down."
Brown eyes blinked at him then looked at Jewel. She had one hand on the door frame, trying to brace herself to get her good leg down first. "
This might go faster if I help her." Al waited for the big man's nod before taking her by her waist and setting her on the ground. Dolly and Wanda got out and stood together, watching and waiting, trying to keep one of the heavy lap blankets across their shoulders. The man nodded at the women.
"I ain't asking nothing from y'all, 'cept to stay right where you are."
He turned to Al. "You, keep your hands up. Now, give me whatever valuables you're carrying."
Al sighed. "Well, which is it? Keep my hands in the air, or hand over my wallet?"
'One of you girls, get his wallet out of his pocket and hand it here."
Dolly and Wanda looked at each other while Jewel frowned with her chin up, glaring at the big man.
A soft whisper came from Dolly. "Mr. Swearengen, is it okay?"
"Why the fuck you asking him for? I'mthe goddamn robber!"
Jewel stepped forward, ignoring the man's gun. "Yeah, but he'sour goddamn boss!"
Al just shrugged and met the man's eyes. "Dolly, do what the man says."
The man's eyes widened above the scarf. Al could almost see the pieces fitting together in the big man's head, right before all hell broke loose.
Al shoved the girls down low beside the stagecoach as the miners and the horsemen exchanged fire. The smell of gunpowder and blood filled the air as the blasts made ears ring. The women huddled and squealed as they tried to make themselves as small as possible, wiggling underneath the coach. Al yanked Jewel away from the back wheel as the horses started to move against their gear, rocking the coach. He heard a heavy thud and saw the driver's body hit the ground beside him. Blood gushed for a few seconds from what was left of his head. As Al's ears cleared, he could hear the scrawny man screaming at the others.
One of the miners fell off the other side of the coach as the other fired two pistol blasts towards the shooter on horseback.
"Search the goddamn coach and get those banshees to shut the fuck up!" The scrawny robber fired over their heads, into the coach. He started screaming at the remaining miner.
Al could see the brown-eyed man's eyes jig back and forth between the shooter, the leader, and Al. He pulled his scarf down enough to show his face.
"I know you from Nebraska."
"Yeah, the job in Lincoln. He fucking nuts?" Al nodded at the leader.
"I ain't known these boys long. Wasn't supposed to go down like this. No killin', ten percent of the payroll, he said."
The shooter, off his horse now, walked the miner to their side of the coach, bleeding from his side. The scrawny man started screaming again as he dismounted.
"You was supposed to be carrying a goddamn payroll! I ain't seen no fuckin' payroll yet!"
The wounded man yelled back as blood seeped around his fingers. "You got the fuckin' strongbox!"
"And it didn't have no fuckin' payroll in it! Not like I was told!" Spit flew from his mouth as he ranted. He grabbed Wanda from under the coach and dragged her out by her arm. "I'll shoot her in the gut, you don't tell me where it is!"
The miner looked up, confused. "Go ahead. She's no one to me and I don't know anything about any other money." He laid back with a groan.
Al moved away from the body of the driver. His movement caught the big man's attention. The man held still, trying to keep an eye on everything at once. Barely moving his lips, Al said quietly, "Twenty percent and whatever you get off the bodies, you back my play."
The big man glanced once at the crazed scrawny man as he switched his aim from Wanda's stomach to the miner's face, yelling at the other shooter to go through the bundles lashed to the top of the coach. He nodded.
"Move forward and to the right."
The leader was screaming threats too loud to hear Al step up behind him. He jerked his head as metal touched his ear. Al pulled the trigger and he jerked again. He stood there, swaying on his feet as Al took his shotgun from his weakening hands.
"Hey!" The other shooter left the luggage and grabbed for his gun. His eyes on Al and the pistol in his hand, he didn't notice the big man now aiming at him, until he heard "Put it down, Joe."
"Dan, what the fuck are you doin'?"
"Joe, put the fuckin' gun down, now."
The scrawny man finally slumped to the ground, a surprised look on his face and a small hole behind his ear. Joe threw his gun down and slowly climbed off the coach.
"Is Bobby killed? Is my brother dead?" His voice was shaking.
Al threw the pistol he held over by Dan's feet. "Joe, right? He's goin' quick, Joe. You got anything to say, best say it now". He held his hands up and stepped back from the dead man on the ground. Darkness coming on and wishful thinking had Joe seeing the rise and fall of his brother's chest as he knelt by his side.
"Bobby! It's okay, Bobby! You're gonna be—" His voice turned to a guttural gurgling. Al laid Joe's head down on Bobby's chest, the blood from his throat covering both brothers. The air stilled, the brief silence only broken by the sniffles and gasps of the women.
"Wanda! Dolly! Get the gear out to light a couple torches."
The two women looked away from the bloody site and rummaged in the driver's box for torches, oil and matches. Dan had pulled his scarf off and slowly loosened his grip on his gun. He watched Al clean his blade on the back of Joe's shirt. It felt natural, somehow, for him to follow Al's crisp instructions on setting the lighted torches by the coach door.
In the yellow glow, he could see the miner had passed out.
"Check on the other guy."
Dan walked to the other side of the coach and saw the second miner, dead by the back wheel where he had fallen.
"He's gone."
"Here, hold this." Al pulled up the lid to the compartment in the coach floor and handed Dan two saddlebags.
"Payroll?"
Al opened one by the light of the nearest torch. "Yeah, payroll." Both bags were filled with gold coins and currency.
"Girls, go ahead and get back inside." Wanda and Dolly helped Jewel clamber back inside the coach, all three huddling together, waiting.
"Looks like a fuckin' battlefield out here."
Al looked up from the bags, looked at the carnage around them. "I've seen worse."
"Hell, so have I, but…Bobby said this'd be quick and easy, nobody'd get hurt, they'd just turn over the money."
"He the brains of the outfit?" He continued his methodical counting.
"Like I said, I just got in with these boys."
"Any more, holdin' back in the woods or the like?"
"Naw, it's just us. Them, I mean."
Al stopped counting and looked at Dan, firelight flickering over his face. "I recall tellin' you, you needed to be more careful choosing your confederates."
"I'm pretty sure these boys was Union."
Al rolled his eyes. "I mean who you run with."
"So…what happens now?" The adrenalin had worn off, and both men looked weary in the torch light.
"You know how to drive a stagecoach?"
"I reckon, if it ain't too different from a wagon."
"Looks like we'll find out. You go search the bodies, see if they got anything worth takin'."
"Uh, Al…that one might not be dead yet."
Al sighed. "Well, help him the fuck along and search his pockets. I'd like to get a little further down the road before we stop for the night."
Dan nodded and started towards the downed "miner", most likely a courier for the mining company. Al saw a flash of blade in his hand and turned back to assessing the value of the coach's cargo. When Dan came back, he handed Al the small gun used on Bobby.
Al shook his head. "That ain't mine. I can't shoot worth shit, unless I'm right up on 'em."
He nodded to the dead driver. "Took it off him, right before I made you my offer." He patted his sheathed knife at his belt. "I'm more of a knife man."
Dan thought this through as he readied the horses. "What would you've done if I'd not wanted to back your play?"
Al looked at him, eyes flat and stony in the darkness. "Best we didn't have to find that out."
He opened the coach door. "Dan, this is Wanda, Dolly, and Jewel. I'm takin' them to Virginia City, setting up a business there."
Dan doffed his battered leather hat. "Sorry we're meetin' under these circumstances."
"Girls, this is Dan…" He looked at the bearish-looking man.
"Dority. Dan Dority."
"Ain't he one of the robbers?" Jewel looked at him with suspicion.
"And now he's one of us. Somebody hand me a fuckin' robe, huh? I don't plan on freezing up there." Dolly handed over a thick buffalo robe. Both men climbed up to the driver's seat, torch lights on the sides illuminating the road just enough for a slow pace, and headed out. They were almost out of earshot when the coyotes started to howl.