A/N: Howdy, everyone! Been waiting to do a western on this site, and I'm finally leaping to it! As for the situation with 'Three Heroes' I'm waiting for my inspiration/motivation to return so I've posted the deal with it on my profile. For now, I'm appeasing my brain with this. This chapter does a lot with scene-setting, so we haven't hit the main action yet, but I'm sure it'll still suck you in. I don't own Star Trek! Enjoy!

It was fortunate that the ship's computers could turn out almost anything. This made blending into a particular society fairly easy- aside from learning the various customs and ways, if it was simply another observation mission (such as this) precluding First Contact, all that was necessary was the proper attire. The computers had provided before 19th century clothing, Nazi uniforms, native hide-skins, and essentially anything that one programmed in. As it was very important that contamination be avoided and the Prime Directive sustained during an observation mission, dressing appropriately was a must, even if it led to some of the weirder outfits.

Kirk maintained his dignity as he strode down the halls of his ship. Even with his chaps, boots, loose shirt and hat, his walk and manner reminded the crewmen that he was still the captain… and that whispers had better be kept to a minimum.

It wasn't the worst outfit he'd had to parade in. Heck, he had walked the halls shirtless several times before. But this felt a little too much like a costume for his taste. Wasn't the gun holster too much?

He entered the transporter room and quickly swallowed a laugh. Mr. Spock stood inside, and the Vulcan looked so out of place in the jacket and cowboy hat that Kirk couldn't help it.

"Well, Mr. Spock," he addressed, trying not to let his amusement show. "You seem prepared to meet the people."

"It is important that we remain discreet and do not attract attention," Spock replied stiffly. "Therefore, this is necessary."

A light grin touched Kirk's face as he found the problem. "They chafe, don't they?" He rubbed his hands along his own pants and chaps.

"Typical of uniforms fresh from the replicator," was all Spock said.

The doors swooshed open and they turned as McCoy joined them. The doctor was the only one who seemed comfortable in what they were wearing- probably because some of the clothing was his. Kirk recognized the boots, hat and shirt. While McCoy was the only one of them without a holster (for cleverly-disguised phasers) he did have on a vest. He opened one side of it and revealed a med-kit strapped to the inside.

"Took a while to get that thing to stay."

"Well, Bones, you look right at home," Kirk commented as the doctor walked onto the transporter pad with them. "Did you attract any stares at all?"

McCoy gave him a strange look. "No, of course not. Why, did you?"

"By every crewman we passed, it seems," Kirk mentioned, facing forward.

McCoy just shrugged as Kirk gave the order to energize. Kyle activated the transporter, and the men quickly beamed down to the dusty planet below.

Drius III was the name of the planet, but everyone on the Enterprise had quickly dubbed it 'Sandy'. This was easy to see from in orbit as vast deserts covered a lot of the planet, but up close it was much more meaningful.

"Yup. Out in the middle of nowhere," McCoy commented.

"Not quite, Doctor. Beyond that ridge is a small frontier town. Considering the lack of adequate structures and landmarks to beam down behind, out of sight, this had to do."

"So we're up for a short walk in the sun, gentlemen," Kirk translated. "I hope everyone's comfy in his boots."

The desert spanned all around. It was gritty and rock strewn. Further off, some mesas and cliffs rose, but it was much too far to walk if they had beamed down over there- not without transport in this heat. Scraggly bushes eeked out of the cracks in the parched ground. Only a lazy breeze stirred the dust floating up from their trotting feet.

The town leapt into sight the moment they topped the small ridge. It was settled out on the flat plain, and only the whinny of horses and clatter of everyday life gave any indication of civilization. The three men quickly and eagerly headed for shelter and shade.

Kirk was feeling the heat and dryness much more than Spock and McCoy. Spock seemed suited for the atmosphere and McCoy also didn't seem too bothered- then again, they both grew up in hot climates. Iowa wasn't exactly tropical.

"This looks like something out of the Old West," he commented, taking off his hat to wipe his brow.

"Indeed," Spock replied. "The dress and architectural design are remarkably similar. If this is anything like an Earth parallel, I believe you will be able to find refreshments in that location, Captain."

Spock pointed towards a popular building that had music playing out from the swinging doors.

"It's called a saloon, Spock," McCoy corrected in his usual way. "And it sounds mighty fine to me. Why don't we get you inside, Jim, before you pass out from heatstroke?"

"Really, I'm fine," Kirk protested, but McCoy just grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, Spock following closely.

Cigar smoke and alcohol permeated the air. Several groups of men were seated around the small tables, though a few couples were dancing near where a man was playing an old fashioned piano. Two other saloon girls were leaning against the bar counter, fanning themselves lazily. Since there was no air-conditioning, it was just as hot inside.

Kirk was just happy to be out of direct sunlight. He twisted and saw McCoy grinning at the scene. "Why, Jim, it looks like somethin' straight out of a western movie!" he exclaimed, eyes flicking across the saloon in delight. "Have you ever seen such a sight?"

"Yes," Kirk said. "And I'd prefer not to remember that little encounter in Tombstone."

McCoy shook his head fondly. "Well, this is the real deal- no half-finished play sets muckin' up everything." He spied an empty table and headed for it, followed by the others. "Jim, sit down here. Spock, you can watch him to make sure he won't stroke out, alright? I'll go and get us some refreshments."

"Doctor," Spock called. "What do you have in means of payment?"

McCoy grinned and pulled out a small sack. "This is an Earth-parallel, right?" When Spock nodded he continued. "Somewhere up along the McCoy line I had a great-grandaddy who saved a lotta money under the mattress. Well, he forgot about it, and it was dug up later after it was all useless. But they were real vintage coins! They got passed down the generations and I had a few with me up on the Enterprise. And before you say it, no, Spock, I am not about to squander away a family heirloom on some drinks. I had the computer replicate them before we left. An' here they are!"

"Doctor," Spock began. "Paying with counterfeit-"

"It's not counterfeit!" McCoy retorted stubbornly. "It's as real as one can get- besides, these people wouldn't know the difference. I'm… boosting their currency." He held up a hand to stave the upcoming argument. "We can talk about it later. An' I made sure to match it exactly as down here. Now, what do you want to drink?"

Spock requested water, but Kirk wanted to try some of the stronger stuff. McCoy agreed and moved off to make the necessary purchases.

"Well, what do you think of all this so far?" Kirk asked Spock.

Spock folded his hands and contemplated. "It is a distinct parallel of Earth's 'Wild West' period. However, it will be interesting to see what original qualities have been seeped into the planet, considering that this type of environment is widespread."

"Agreed," Kirk mentioned. He was about to continue when a young lady- she appeared to work at the saloon- plopped down in the seat next to him.

"Well, howdy!" she greeted cheerfully in a heavy accent. "I ain't see you around… are y'all from out of town?"

"Yes," Kirk said, flashing his classic smile. "We've been traveling a long way. May I ask what town this is? We didn't see a sign when we entered."

She sighed heartily. "That's because the weather an' Cutler gang claimed it. Poor sign got riddled so full of holes that the next windstorm went an' knocked it down. Nobody had the heart to replace it. But surely y'all have heard of Tripoint?"

They glanced at each other. "I am afraid not," Spock answered.

"Well, can't say I'm surprised," she huffed. "It used to be called Timber-somethin'-or-other, but then we had severe deforestation. Lucky us, we're still located between three big honkin' cities, so we make on our livin' as a veritable stoppin' point. I ain't surprised at all you travelers are takin' a rest here."

"Well, thank you," Kirk said, the smile still playing on his face. "What's your name?"

"Hm? Oh, Allie Mae, sweetie." She tossed her boa scarf over her shoulder.

"That's very beautiful," Kirk complimented. "Fitting for a beautiful woman."

Allie Mae glanced at him suspiciously. "Sure. But it's one heck of a complication to explain that it's s'posed to be separate. It's 'Allie' and then 'Mae'. Not some Alliemae jacked combination."

"Of course," Kirk replied smoothly. "Say, my friends and I are looking for a place to stay for a couple nights. Do you-"

He was suddenly cut off when Allie Mae slapped him. "Listen, you skin-deep, devil-slime, diamond-backer! I see what game you're playin' an' I ain't havin' ANY of it. So you just shut yer trap before I shut it fer ya, or worse, get my pa ta shut right closed!"

"Wha-?" Kirk trailed. Spock merely raised his eyebrows, unsure of how to proceed with the irate woman.

"Saaay, is this man botherin' ya, my dear?"

Kirk looked up to see that McCoy had arrived with the drinks. He balanced the three glasses carefully and tactfully, yet still gave a warm smile to Allie Mae.

"He been tryin' to get after things he ain't ever gonna see!" she ranted.

McCoy sent a slightly exasperated, very knowing glare at Kirk, but kept up the cordial conversation. "Yeah, he has that effect sometimes. Don't mind it; sometimes I wonder if he can talk any differently."

"Bones!" Kirk exclaimed.

Something seemed to quell in Allie Mae, though. "Did I take your seat?" she asked McCoy politely, moving to get up.

"No, no, not at all," McCoy replied quickly. He set down the drinks. "I'll just pull another one up, say, would you like somethin' to drink as well? While you're at our table?"

"No thank you," she answered, smiling. "I'm in here so long every day that I've lost the taste for it."

"A shame," McCoy said, chagrined. "May I ask you your name, miss?"

"Allie Mae," she replied. "I was just explainin' it to these two men. It's 'Allie' and then 'Mae'… separate."

"Naturally," McCoy commented, as if it wouldn't be any other way.

They sipped their drinks as Allie Mae rattled on an ambling conversation. She talked about the town, her job, and various gossip that was going around. The names meant nothing to the Starfleet men, but they still listened. Spock catalogued everything said, and Kirk found himself growing sleepy in the stuffy heat, but McCoy actually seemed attentive to the conversation proper. The two conversed back and forth about various things until Allie Mae suddenly gripped his arm in excitement.

"Oh, but this is my favorite!" she exclaimed giddily. Spock had trouble following until he realized she was referencing the new song on the piano. Allie Mae was quickly tugging on McCoy's arm, pulling him out of his seat. "Do dance with me, Mr. McCoy! It will be delightful!"

McCoy smiled and set his hat down on the table, looking at Kirk and Spock. "Gentlemen," he acknowledged, a clever twinkle in his eye. They moved off through the crowd and joined a few of the dancing couples.

Kirk turned to Spock. "I think he's going native," he stated.

"The doctor does seem very comfortable in this setting," Spock observed.

"Of course he is, he's got that Southern charm all the ladies rave about."

"I had not noticed."

Kirk sighed and chuckled at the same time.

McCoy, for his part, easily danced with Allie Mae, despite not having done it in a while. "You're an excellent dancer, my dear," he complimented.

"Thanks," Allie Mae grinned. "Comes with the job description, but I appreciate it. And you're fine, yourself. Ya know I can always tell things about people- been that way since I was an urchin- and you're just as charming as your friend back there… but in a gentlemanly way."

"Thank you," he inclined his head graciously. "Though Jim has had considerable luck in that area."

"Oh, I can see that about 'im," she huffed. "Honest. I'll betcha dozens of gals fall for that boyish face and golden smile- I just ain't one of them. I never did like the command-types."

Briefly McCoy wondered if she somehow figured out that Jim was a captain. Then it quelled at her next words: "I like the moderate, understanding fellas."

"Whatever a lady wishes," he replied.

She giggled. "Why, thank you, kind sir!"

McCoy smiled as they danced some more, turning around the floor. "May I ask a general question, Miss Allie Mae?" he posed politely.

"Sure thing, sugar."

"Do you know of any establishments with rooms to board for the night? My friends and I just got in and would like to rent a place to stay."

"Ohh, that must've been what your friend was talkin' about," she realized. "Though it sounded like he was askin' fer somethin' else. Yeah, we've got a couple rooms free upstairs. You can talk to the owner about stayin'."

"Thank you, I will be sure to do that," he said courteously. Somebody tapped his shoulder and turned to see a red-faced man glaring at him.

"There a reason yer dancin' with my gal?" he fumed dangerously.

"Hal…" she rolled her eyes.

"Only that the lady requested it, and it would be rude not to oblige," McCoy replied. He broke away from Allie Mae and gave a slight bow with his head. "Miss." He acknowledged Hal. "Sir. If you will excuse me." He left to rejoin his friends.

At the table, Kirk was still watching the bustle of the saloon. There was an obnoxious fellow nearby, who had clearly had too much to drink (or at least Kirk hoped) and just got louder and louder as the day dragged on.

"Cutler's gang had better not show their ugly faces 'round here again!" he announced. "Else I'll put a bullet between their eyes!"

"Ah, shut it, Jeb, we all know that's just a lotta BS. Why, the moment Cutler an' his friends show up you'll be hidin' behind a barrel like the rest of us!"

"Not this time! I'll walk out there and if I wanna shoot them I'll hit 'em! And y'all know I can do it, too!" The man, Jeb, stood up and showed off his pistol. "Why, I can fire at a tin can across town!"

"That's assuming that you'll still be able to hit it," Kirk mentioned nonchalantly, sipping his drink.

Jeb whirled on him. "What'd you say?" Jeb fumed.

"I implied that your mouth is bigger than your ability," Kirk continued, ignoring Spock's warning signals. "People like you are typically all talk and no action."

For a second, nobody moved. Then Jeb suddenly lunged and grabbed a fistful of Kirk's shirt, yanking him up. "You insultin' me, boy?!" he shouted in Kirk's face.

"It's true, isn't it?" Kirk said mildly.

"Well, Mr. High-shots thinks he's better!" Jeb crowed. He released Kirk and shoved him away. "Tomorrow morning! You an' I are gonna square off in an aim contest. Ya dig, ya half-wit?!"

"Sure," Kirk replied smoothly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Enraged that his opponent wasn't getting worked up, Jeb stormed out of the saloon.

McCoy was suddenly standing near Kirk and whistled. "He looked mad enough to swallow a horn-toad backwards. Jim, what did you get yourself into?"

"Just a little shooting competition," Kirk replied innocently.

"Uh-huh. An' who's gun are you gonna use?"

Kirk realized that he just had a phaser. Not the smartest choice in a gunfight for an uncontaminated civilization. "Well… I suppose I'll have to track one down. There's got to be a place where people get all of their arms."

"I suggest the gunsmith, Captain," Spock answered.

"Excellent idea, Spock! We'll go to the gunsmith, get a pistol, and start practicing for the contest. Bones, you find us all a room-"

"Done," McCoy answered.

"Okay, and we'll all meet up out back to practice."

"Jim," McCoy said seriously. "You sound mighty sure of yourself. But what do you think is gonna happen if you lose?"

Kirk stopped, an unsettling weight forming in his stomach. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there," he put off.

"That Jeb sure seemed like a loose cannon-"

"Then I'll just have to win, Bones."

"Riiiight, Jim."

Episodes referenced: Return of the Archons, Patterns of Force, A Private Little War, and Spectre of the Gun. And this is NOT Mary Sue! I promise you! Apparently the only way I can even begin to touch romance is through the old-fashioned courtship. :) But most of this story deals with action, I promise- again, a lot of this chapter was just setting the scene. Oh, Jim, you always stir up trouble. Stay tuned for the developing results! And please review, folks!