Callie enjoyed the cool morning air rushing past her as she galloped the last half-mile to town, the freedom of it all singing through her veins. She dressed in men's trousers when she rode, and tried to get into town early to avoid those who would look down their noses at her riding style and her attire. Not that most of them didn't look down on her for running the saloon, anyway. She mentally stuck out her tongue at them all as she reined her mare to a halt at the small enclosure behind the saloon.
"Good morning." Dean's voice had the same effect on her that it had the day before, and she focused on loosening the saddle cinch as she answered.
"Morning, Sheriff. What brings you to town so early?" She hoisted the saddle from the mare and onto the fence rail, and Dean raised an admiring eyebrow.
"Thought I'd see about some breakfast before I get to the business of the day. You do serve breakfast, right?"
She removed the bridle from her horse and patted it affectionately before walking out of the pen and closing the gate behind her. "Of course. Griz probably has the coffee on already. Come on in." She threw a smile over her shoulder at him, and he tied up his bay before following her into the back door, admiring the view as she walked ahead of him through the storeroom and into the kitchen.
"Morning, Griz," she said cheerfully to the old man, who was busy putting a batch of biscuits into the oven.
"Mornin', Miss Callie... Sheriff," he answered, nodding at Dean as he passed by. "You want some coffee, Sheriff?"
"I'd love some, Griz. And call me Dean." He followed her through the hall and into the bar, watching as she approached a man wielding a broom at the far end of the room.
"Smitty, thank you. Now go to the kitchen, Griz will fix you up with some coffee and a hot breakfast before you head on home, all right?"
He ducked his head in answer, muttering, "Thank you, Miss Callie," before leaning the broom against the wall and shuffling back they way they had just come.
"Does he live here?" Dean asked, and Callie smiled softly before grabbing the broom to finish picking up the previous day's sawdust, dumping it into a nearby trash bin.
"No. He just kind of ends up here some nights, and then he feels the need to help clean up." She tucked the broom and dustpan behind the bar and turned to find Dean's eyes on her, the expression on his face making her blush a little. "What?"
He looked down, a self-conscious little smile curving his lips. "Nothing. Just - it seems like you've got a soft spot for hard luck cases. It's kinda nice."
Callie tilted her head a little as he raised his head again to meet her gaze. "Seems like you might know a thing or two about that. I suppose you've dealt with a few in your line of work."
"Yeah. A few." He looked back at her until she took a deep breath and looked away, wiping her hands on a nearby bar rag.
"Well, I'd better get changed before I open up. Wouldn't want to scandalize the town by wearing pants." She smiled and headed for a door at the opposite end of the room. "I'm sure Griz will have your coffee out soon."
Dean nodded his thanks, and as she reached her office door, he spoke quietly. "Just for the record - I think you look damn good in pants." She felt color flood her cheeks as she went into the next room, closing the door behind her and leaning on it for a moment. He was stirring feelings in her, so many feelings that she didn't have time to put a label on them for the time being.
When she went back out, Dean was seated at the table with Smitty, chatting comfortably over their biscuits and gravy. His eyes lit briefly with admiration when he glanced up, but then he returned his attention to the man sitting across from him, listening intently to his tale. Callie smiled at the sight, and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee before opening the front doors.
Chuck was standing right outside, to her utter delight - just the thing she needed first thing in the morning. She took a deep breath and waved her arm to usher him in. "See, all this early mornin' rushin' around could be avoided, Callie," he muttered, then stopped dead in his tracks when he spied Dean eating breakfast at what was usually his table. "What the hell is he doin' in here before the door's even been opened?" His brows were furrowed in a thunderous frown as he turned to face her, grabbing her arm roughly. "I mean it - what the hell is he doin' here? Tell me the truth, Callie."
Fire flashed in her eyes as she straightened to her full height and jerked away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Who the hell do you think you are, Chuck Tanner?" she hissed. "Don't you march in here and start firing questions at me like I owe you an answer. If you want breakfast, go sit down. And if you don't - get out."
She turned abruptly and left the room, leaving Chuck to face the stares of Dean and Smitty. He glared at Dean and plopped down at the nearest table. Callie soon reappeared with a plate of biscuits and gravy, which she plopped down in front of him unceremoniously along with a cup of coffee, and she then turned on her heel and left the room again without another word. Chuck picked up his fork, glowering, and shoved a mouthful of the savory food in his mouth. This new sheriff was starting to be a problem. And he'd be damned if some wet-behind-the-ears lawman was going to screw with a plan that had been in motion for almost two years. He'd better watch his step. Chuck glared at the back of Dean's head one more time, then focused on devouring the rest of his breakfast.
Sam let out a sigh, looking up from the desk, his eyebrow raised. "Dean?"
"Yeah. What, Sammy?" He turned from staring through the window at the street to face his brother.
"What are we doing here? There's nothing happening. I know Cas said we could stay as long as we needed to this time, but - do you think something happened to change what... happened? You know, maybe somebody stepped on a butterfly somewhere. We've been hanging around here for a week, and the only thing going on is you're drooling over Callie Dalton."
"Butterfly? Really?"
"You know, chaos theory. Someone steps on a butterfly somewhere and changes the whole track of history?"
"I know what the butterfly effect is, you giant nerd. I just think we got here a little early, that's all. And I think we should give it a few more days before we just give up. Okay?" Sam met his brother's eyes, staring back at him silently for a couple of seconds before nodding. "Besides, Sammy - you're finally getting the hang of horses." Dean grinned at the eye roll directed his way, and grabbed his Stetson from the hook. "C'mon, let's head over to the Silver Birch - I'm starved."
"Yeah. You're starved all right," Sam said with a sarcastic smile, standing up to grab his own hat from the chair he'd tossed it on.
Sam and Dean walked through the double doors of the saloon, nodding to Smitty, and Dean winked at Emily, who blushed prettily and scurried off in the direction of the kitchen. He sat down, removing his hat, and looked up to meet the baleful stare of Chuck Tanner. He nodded, said, "Morning, Chuck," and turned his attention to Callie, who was heading their direction, a welcoming smile on her face.
"Well, if it isn't the Winchester brothers." She set two steaming mugs of coffee on the table in front of them before continuing. "You get all settled in over at your new office?"
"Yeah. Nothing much going on yet, but we've got to make the rounds to Hartville and Sunrise today. See if anything's going on there. Don't let Smitty get out of hand today, we'll be gone for a while," Dean said, grinning as Smitty looked up with wide eyes, then smiled at Dean's expression.
"Awww, Sheriff, I ain't gonna cause no trouble," he laughed, shaking his head as he turned back to the repair of a chair he was doing for Callie.
"I know, man, I'm just kidding. You keep your eye on things around here, though, all right?"
"You got my word, Sheriff." He nodded at Sam as well. "Deputy."
"'Bout time you got around to doing your job, Sheriff." Dean's smile faded a little as he looked up to see Chuck standing near the table. "Seems to me you spend a little too much time in one place for a lawman who's s'posed to be coverin' three towns. Folks were beginnin' to wonder what you were hired for."
Dean leaned back in his chair, his long legs sprawled, an insolent look in his eyes. "Well, I'm sure you set them straight. Right, Chuck?"
The big man just frowned a little deeper, then turned and left the saloon. Dean looked at Sam, an exaggerated look of concern on his face. "Sam, I get the feeling Chuck just doesn't care for me. Do you get that feeling?"
Sam smirked. "Yeah, Dean. I did kinda pick up on that."
Callie smiled, shaking her head. "Did you two want breakfast?" Dean turned a dazzling smile her way, and she caught herself just before she took a reeling step back. Damn it, that man's smile was just - devastating. But she held her ground, staring down at him, her eyes sparkling back at the challenge in his. He reached for her hand, giving it a little squeeze, and ordered their food, his thumb rubbing softly over her fingers before she pulled slowly back. "I'll get Griz going on your order. I'm sure you've got work to do," she said as she turned to walk away, feeling a little dazed.
It was the next evening before they wearily entered their temporary home, kicking off boots and dropping gun belts along the way. Dean plopped down on a kitchen chair, tossing his hat onto the table and running his fingers roughly through his hair. "Well, Sammy, I guess we're staying."
Sam sat in the chair across the table from his brother, sighing. "Yeah." He rubbed his hand over his face, his mouth tight. "So, how old do you think that kid was?"
Dean shook his head. "I don't know. Ten, maybe?" His jaw worked as he looked up to meet Sam's somber gaze. "Whatever this is, whoever it is - we're ganking their ass. Kids? Damn it. What kind of sick fuck cuts a kid's throat?" He shook his head again, standing and turning to the wood stove behind him. "I'm gonna start a fire, heat up some water so we can wash up. Then I'm going to bed."
The next morning the brothers walked quietly into the Silver Birch. For once, Chuck wasn't sitting there glaring back at them, and Callie was nowhere in sight, but Emily's eyes widened and her cheeks colored as they nodded her way, and she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
"Well, good morning." Callie smiled in greeting as she approached their table, but the smile faded a little at their subdued smiles and mumbled answers. "Is everything all right?" she asked in concern, and the solemnity in Dean's usually lively green eyes sparked a dread in the pit of her stomach. "What happened?"
Dean pulled out a chair as he answered quietly with a question. "Do you know the Larsons from Hartville?" Callie nodded slowly, and he continued. "Their son, Thomas, was found dead. Murdered."
Callie's eyes widened as she sat down on the offered chair, shock registering on her features, her fingers gripping the table's edge. "He's just - was - just a boy. Only ten or eleven. What kind of monster would murder a child?"
"I guess that's what we're gonna have to find out." Callie blinked tears from her blue eyes and met Dean's gaze for a moment, then took a deep breath as she stood.
"I'll get you both some coffee, and some breakfast. Then I'll get the wagon out, see if Smitty can take some food over for the family." She was half-muttering the words to herself as she moved to walk away, but his fingers gently grasping at hers stopped her, and she turned back.
"Hey, Callie - make that first cup Irish, okay?" She nodded, touched by his troubled eyes, giving his hand a squeeze.
"Of course, Dean." She looked over at Sam, exchanging a sad smile with him, before leaving them to their thoughts.
