Deeds Before Words
by channelD
written for: The NFA Wild, Wild West challenge
rating: K plus
genre: drama/action/western
pairing: mild McAbby
Author's notes: (1) Gibbs et al work for the Office of Naval Intelligence, which was the predecessor of the NIS (later NCIS). The ONI was established in 1882.
(2) This is a minor crossover with the TV show Bonanza, just for fun. It is established in Bonanza canon that Ben Cartwright had been a New England-based sea captain who had moved West when his oldest son, Adam, was a young boy.
disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS.
Chapter 1
San Francisco, 1888
From inside a saloon, a piano playing "Camptown Races" sounded. The man pushed open the saloon's batwing swinging doors and grinned on seeing a familiar face close by. "Ben Cartwright! You old son-of-a-sea-cook! I'd heard you were in town!"
The silver-haired man got up from his table and shook his friend's hand warmly. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs! It's been too long, Sergeant."
"Indeed it has, Captain." They both sat down at Cartwright's table, and Gibbs signaled to the barkeeper for his usual. "What brings you to San Francisco?"
Cartwright's eyes narrowed. "Too many fraudulent shippers between here and Virginia City, so I thought I'd come here and pick up my own goods. Ordered some teak from the Orient—I'll have a nice cabinet built from it for my study."
"You always did have an eye for the fine things, Ben. How is life in Nevada, and that big ranch and those three sons of yours?"
"Fine, on all accounts. You should come to Nevada. Plenty of good land still available."
Gibbs shook his head. "I'd miss the ocean. It's the Marine in me. I don't want to be on a boat full-time any more, but—" He broke off and waved a greeting to someone he saw. Shortly two people appeared at the table: a lovely young dark haired woman in a stylish blue-green gown, and a rather baby-faced young man, dressed like Gibbs and Cartwright in comfortable Western attire, but, like Gibbs, with a small badge on his vest.
Both Gibbs and Cartwright had stood up. "Miss Ziva," said Gibbs, "May I present an old friend, Captain Benjamin Cartwright, of Virginia City, Nevada. Ben, this is Miss Ziva David, from the Near East."
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain," Ziva said in a soft, accented voice.
"The pleasure is mine, my dear," he said with a slight bow.
"And this is my other team member, Timothy McGee. McGee, Ben Cartwright."
The two men shook hands. "You are…both on Jethro's ONI team?" Cartwright asked in wonder.
"Indeed they are, and I'm proud to have them," Gibbs smiled, having expected the reaction. "McGee has enough education under his belt to be a college professor, and he likes puzzling out things. And he can ride, rope, and shoot better than most. About the only thing he can't do is tolerate a ship ride." He chuckled at McGee's grimace.
"Hard to believe, Jethro, since you've been around ships most of your adult life," Cartwright remarked, and said to Gibbs' team, "That was where we met, about 30 years ago. Off Cape Ann, Massachusetts. My ship was taking on water, and Jethro's Marine unit was part of the rescue. I owe my life to your boss."
"Aw, shucks," Gibbs said, embarrassed. "All part of the job."
"It was more than that, but I'll let Jethro be modest if he wants," Cartwright said amiably. "But that's a hero for you—he thinks he's not doing anything special; just his job."
Gibbs cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Miss Ziva is much more dangerous than she looks—bad news for our enemies! She is a champion in armed and unarmed combat, is a superb rider, and speaks a number of languages, including Russian, Chinese and Spanish, which are important here."
Cartwright nodded, impressed.
"So, what brings you two here?" Gibbs asked his staff.
"Miss Abigail is going to sing, boss!" McGee said eagerly. "She's substitution for that…Joanie Linder woman whose stagecoach is stuck in Sacramento today."
"By all means, then," said Gibbs. "Miss Abigail singing is always a treat—particularly when she sticks to the common songs and not that wild stuff," he grinned.
The lady who went onto the dais was a fair-skinned, raven-haired beauty, dressed in a black Gibson girl skirt with a white blouse shot with red here and there. She smiled at the saloon crowd, many of whom knew her and were glad to see her again, in her occasional appearance as a songbird. She leaned on her folded parasol and belted out an old standard, "Sweet Betsy From Pike."
Cartwright noticed McGee following the music raptly. "Kind of sweet on the girl, is he?" he whispered to Gibbs.
"Very much so," Gibbs whispered back. "He can't get her to settle down and marry, though. Miss Abigail's not just a singer, by the way—she runs the local apothecary. I've turned to her for help in chemical analysis several times in cases."
"Well, good. I'm impressed with women who aren't afraid to do tasks traditionally thought to be men's jobs."
The singer went on to "Greensleeves" and then "You've Been That Friend to Me" before taking a break. She came over to their table, and McGee hurriedly pulled up another chair; holding it out for her. "Why, thank you, Tim," she murmured, and smiled while Gibbs introduced her to Cartwright.
"Sergeant! Sergeant!" A sheriff's deputy ran in. "Begging your pardon, Sergeant Gibbs, but the sheriff says there's a fight going on at the waterfront. Couple' a sailors and talk of a shanghaiing!"
"Let's go," said Gibbs. "Ben, let's get together again before you go home." He, McGee and Miss Ziva rose quickly, but not without McGee's light touch on Miss Abigail's hand.
"Stay safe," she whispered to McGee, or perhaps to all of them, as they left.
With Miss Ziva driving the wagon, they made it to the docks in no time. Miss Ziva, despite her dainty appearance, was a fearsome driver. There they found a brawl well underway, involving more than a dozen men.
Gibbs whistled shrilly. "Federal agents! Break it up!"
The ones in sailor uniforms stopped the quickest; they knew the reputation of the ONI, and of Gibbs. The plain clothes men were less intimidated, and the Chinese men least of all. Miss Ziva got into the thick of the fray and bellowed at them in their own language, and the fighting subsided.
"Who started this?" Gibbs demanded.
Several fingers pointed to a man in dark brown leather. "Aw, now that's not true, uh, Commander," he said, taking a wild guess at Gibbs' rank. "These guys were trying to shanghai me and this little guy, here. We were just defending ourselves!"
Other men, including sailors, argued, and pointed fingers at the first man. "They're in on the shanghaiing!" the man insisted. "The sailors are."
His word against theirs… Much as he sometimes didn't like to, Gibbs felt he'd have to go with the sailors. "All right. You—" he indicated the little man "—take off." The short fellow ran. "You—" the sailors "—you're from the Nineveh? Get back to your ship. And you—" he addressed the Chinese "—when does your ship leave?" He waited while Miss Ziva translated. "In three hours? You'd better go. Now. Or I'll charge you with disturbing the peace."
"Now you—" he added to the man in brown leather, "I'm taking you in for questioning."
"That's your gut reaction, boss?" McGee said to him quietly.
"Yep," was all Gibbs would say. "Got a name, fellow?"
The man picked up his fairly new Stetson hat from where it had fallen in the fight, and though his green eyes met Gibbs' firmly, there was still a bit of hesitation as he said, "DiNozzo. Anthony DiNozzo."