A/N: I had a reviewer ask a question as to why I made Ichigo part Japanese. Well one this is AU and I'm playing and two here is a bit of history. In the mid 1600's Japan closed its borders to Europeans believing that traders and Christian missionaries were the vanguard for an invasion force.

Chinese immigrants started arriving in the United States as soon as 1849 and many of them found their way west working on the railroads. There was little to no Japanese immigration at this time.

The American movement to settle the frontier began in 1865 after the conclusion of the Civil War and reached it's height in the later half of the century. In 1853 Japan's seclusion ended. The Japanese started immigrating to the United States after the borders were open but the largest influx occurred in 1882 due to the Chinese Exclusion Act passing, restricting Chinese immigration.

So basically each of the Bleach characters have fled from Japan and found their way to American soil and believe me, many frontiersmen at this time wouldn't take the time to distinguish nationality. So thus, they would more than likely assumed to be Chinese or half, as it were.

In short I'm taking some liberties and playing in a time period that has become more legend than fact in the annuals of American history.

High Sade Frankie Wilson: Not men. Hunting for food, that's alright. Hunting a man to kill him? You're beginning to like it.

Lin McAdam: That's where you're wrong. I don't like it. Some things a man has to do, so he does 'em.

Winchester ' 73

Ichigo was either the luckiest son of a bitch on the face of the earth or else those fuckers had been even dumber than he thought. There he was dangling from the branch of a tree, on the verge of losing conscious thought, and thinking that his luck had finally run out, when the twice damned tree branch had broke.

He had spent the next fifteen minutes on the ground waiting for feeling to return to his limbs and the last two hours following horse tracks in aching bare feet. The noose that they had tried to hang him with was still around his neck, his hands were still tied behind his back, and behind him the broken tree branch dragged in the dirt.

Over his shoulder he had managed to sling the only thing besides his clothes that the bandits had left him and that was his old saddle bags filled with his books. They had rummaged through them and left his numerous volumes of Shakespeare to mold on the harsh clay and it had been a bitch to get them all back in the bag with his hands bound.

The bandits' lack of respect for literature was to be Ichigo's salvation. Inside one of his least favorite volumes Ichigo had stashed some cash in the binding and long ago Ishida had sown a pocket knife in the lining. Now all he had to do was get to it.

Ichigo stumbled and cursed. It was hotter than a whore house on nickel night and he could feel his feet scorch with every step he took. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes, causing his vision to blur as he made his way to a small outcropping of rocks.

His toe hit another rock and he hissed in pain, but he managed to keep his feet. He was almost there, just a little further.

He would have howled in triumphant when he reached his destination if he'd had the strength. All he could really do was sink onto one of the boulders and pant heavily. Ichigo took a few minutes to get his breath back and then maneuvered the saddle bags on his shoulders to rest waist level on the rock behind him.

It was hard but he managed to get the side of the bag he needed open and started working the threads holding the knife in the lining with numb fingers. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes it came free.

Now if he could only get it open before he passed out from heat stroke. Sweat dripping off his body Ichigo gripped the pocket knife that had been his fourteenth birthday present from Ishida. He worked his sweaty fingers over the closed blade and promptly sliced his hand. He hissed as blood mixed with sweat turning the smooth hickory even slicker and managed to work the blade up inch by excruciating inch. Finally he got it free, maneuvered the knife to cut his bindings, and promptly dropped in onto the dry earth.

"Son of a bitch!" he growled.

It was going into a long fucking day.

When Ichigo stumbled into the half horse town of Terrance he was sunburned and half dead on his feet. Ladies wrinkled their noses when he passed and looked disdainfully at his bootless feet, and the men saw the look of murder in his amber eyes and gave him a wide berth. Ichigo ignored them all and promptly went into the saloon for a drink.

The first thing he noticed when the doors swung open was asshole number one drinking heavily at the bar, the next thing he noticed were his custom made boots on the fucker's feet. Ichigo palmed the pocket knife he had used to free his hands and approached the bar slowly. He stopped ten feet away from the bandit.

Everyone with in five feet of Ichigo recognized the look in his eyes and the scrapping of chairs and tables could be heard as they all moved the hell out of the way. The bandit, Luke, looked up then and his face drained of all color.

"Those are my boots," Ichigo croaked. Luke's hand blurred as he reached for his pistol but Ichigo was faster. Like a striking rattlesnake his hand whipped and Luke's revolver discharged harmless into the sawdust floor. He gurgled as blood bubbled from his lips and he clutched convulsively at the knife in his chest. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell forward with a thud.

The saloon was dead silent as Ichigo calmly approached the dead man, kicked him on his back, pulled his pocket knife from his chest, and wiped it clean on the bandit's shirt. He then bent to remove his boots and the dead man's belt and six iron. Ichigo straightened and met the bartender's frightened gaze.

"You got a hotel here." The terrified man nodded and pointed east.

"Go that way pass the general store. You can't miss it." Ichigo scowled, nodded, turned, and walked away leaving the patrons gazing after him and the dead man on the floor.

A loud series of deafening bangs echoed across the open plains and six brown whiskey bottles glinted in the heavy afternoon sun exploding in succession. When the last gunshot faded into the wind a low whistle took its place.

"Damn Rukia, remind me never to piss you off again." Renji Abarai, foreman of the Kuchiki Ranch turned toward the petite raven haired beauty as she holstered her revolver. He frowned and shook his head as he took in what she was wearing. She was dressed like a cowboy, in low riding brown pants, held in place by a multi colored sash instead of a belt, an ocean blue shirt unbuttoned half way, a white undershirt, and a brown cowboy hat.

Her boots scrapped against the dry red clay as she shuffled towards her snow white mare. Sode no Shirayuki whined and danced away as she dug in her saddle bag for more bullets.

"You know your brother is supposed to be home sometime before chow time. If he sees you dressed like that he's gonna be madder than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

Rukia scowled and shot him an evil look.

"He is going to have to get over it, Renji. Besides it was his idea I learn how to shoot and I can't very well do that in a dress now can I"

Renji scoffed and laughed. "Rukia you've known how to shoot since you were five. Not to mention you have a mouth that would shame a wrangler and can ride like the devil."

"You know that and I know that 'cause you've been hanging around me like an annoying burr since we were kids but my dear brother doesn't. And don't you dare tell him Renji or else I will emasculate you while you sleep."

"Dammit Rukia, I swear you need to stop pushing Mr. Kuchiki like you do. He's already disappointed that you keep turning away any and all suitable suitors and are now in danger of becoming an old maid. It's time you stopped running around the ranch playing cowboy."

Rukia's violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Playing cowboy am I? I'm a better wrangler then half your hands, and I know more about running this damn ranch than you and my brother combined. So don't you dare talk down to me like I'm some little girl playing dress up with daddy's clothes."

He scowled at her and his fierce expression combined with his many tattoos made him look dangerous and menacing. Rukia only looked down her nose at him and turned away in a huff.

"You don't get it; you never did. It doesn't matter that you can rope like a pro, birth a calf, or sit a horse like you were born to a saddle. You're a woman and there isn't a cattle rancher alive who will respect those qualities in a woman. Besides, people talk Rukia and some of that buzzing and gripping has reached your brother's ear. If you don't start acting like a lady you're gonna find yourself married off to the next suitable asshole that comes calling."

Rukia felt her stomach drop but her face betrayed none of her inner turmoil. She had turned twenty-three two months ago and was no closer to wanting a husband now than she had been at sixteen. She knew what people where saying, especially those many relatives that resented the hell out of the fact that Byakuya had adopted her off the streets. Many of her distant cousins and other assorted unimportant relatives still considered her dirt and if her brother hadn't made a death bed promise to his dying wife then there was no telling where she would be now.

She still wished some times that she had known her older sister, Hisana, but time and circumstance had all but crushed that dream. The vague memories she had of her sister were muddled and dissonant. She had been only three when her and her sister had become separated and the only two strong memories she had was of a face that resembled her vaguely and the smell of cherry blossoms.

The only other clue to her past had been found in a long forgotten trunk keep in the attic of the large sprawling ranch house that served as the Kuchiki homestead. Her sister's journal had filled in some of the blanks from her earlier years.

Hisana had fled with her to the distant American shores when a brutal shogun had slaughtered their family for her father's disobedience. They had left Japan for the continent and ended up on an immigrant vessel headed from the continent to New York City. Rukia had been a little over a year old.

Harsh conditions and cruel treatment at the hands of the Irish sent her sister searching for a better life for herself and Rukia, which led Hisana to start looking west. She saved every penny she could working in the laundries and managed to find passage with a Chinese family on a wagon train.

The train, largely made up of oriental immigrants, made it as far as Oklahoma before scarlet fever broke out amount the settlers. Hisana was one of the many to fall ill. They sought help in a nearby town and the doctor quarantined the whole train in a small dilapidated wood frame church, even though many of the towns' folk objected. It might have been different if the settlers had been white because many frontier folk didn't take to Chinamen. When one of the children in the town fell ill the terrified and paranoid residents blamed the settlers and burned the church to the ground.

Rukia and a weakened Hisana, both escaped but were separated and Hisana believed her little sister to be dead. What she hadn't known was that Rukia had wandered off into the wilderness and had been briefly taken in by another train heading toward the Wyoming Territory.

When they had reached Wyoming the settlers were attacked by Indians and the family that had taken Rukia in was killed. From that moment on she was forced to roam the Territory, sticking mostly to the town of Rukongai. She eventually met Renji and the other lost or abandoned children and together they had survived.

She still didn't know, to this day, how Hisana had learned she was alive and Byakuya never spoke of his wife to her, but on the day she turned thirteen years old, Byakuya Kuchiki found her and once again her life drastically changed.

Rukia sighed. The only thing she could truly recall about her sister was that she had been graceful, beautiful, and kind. Servants at the ranch told Rukia that she looked just like Hisana but she never believed them. She had never felt graceful or beautiful in her entire life, and despite how hard she tried she could never really get the grim of the streets out of her soul.

Renji told her she needed to act like a lady? She could never accomplish that. She had spent too many years surviving.

"Renji there is no way that I'm ever going to live up to some high-falutin standard of womanhood. You were there; you know what we had to do to survive."

Her old friend regarded her gravely.

"Then God help you, Rukia."

Rukia said nothing as she mounted her horse and tugged the reins to turn Sode no Shirayaki towards the ranch.

"Even God can't help me if Byakuya has his mind set." Renji nodded.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she said and dug her heels into Sode no Shirayaki's side. The horse took off at a gallop and Renji watched her go.

"Oh hell, there is no way this can turn out well."