Chapter 2

"I got nothin."

"Dammit. Fold."

"Three pair, I win."

The two men sighed as the young man won his third round in a row. The older men were losing their earnings quickly to the loud, rambunctious young man.

"Ha! You guys might wanna quit while yer ahead. Don't wanna go home to your wives with empty pocket, now, do we?" The young man had a wide grin plastered across his face underneath the wide brim hat.

"Shut up boy, just cause you've gotten lucky the last few rounds doesn't mean you can start talkin shit."

"Actually. It does. I'll make it up to ya though. I'll buy the next round of drinks."

"I can deal with that" said the other older men.

The young man stood up and yelled across the table to the bartender, "Hey barkeep! Me n' my friends need another round over here!"

The bartender looked up from his task of wiping down the glasses and gave the young man a steady glare.

"Stop yer hollerin', I'll get yer drinks, son."

The young man laughed.

"Thanks Bill."

The bartender gave a grunt in reply and started preparing their beers.

The young man sat back down and leaned back in his chair, propping his boots on the table. He pulled the brim of his hat down over his brow.

One of the older men glanced over at the young man.

"How did the cattle drive turn out, son?"

"It went pretty smoothly. Didn't seem to have any problems going down Chrisholm Trail. We got a pretty penny for the cattle. Me n' pops were laughin about how easy it turned out. Expected somethin to go wrong any minute."

"Speaking of which, how's your old man doin?" the other man asked.

"He's doin good, especially for his age. He don't seem to wanna quit ranchin anytime soon. He's set on workin hard 'til the day he's buried in the family plot."

"Sounds like yer pops. One tough son of a bitch."

The young man laughed, "Yessir. He his."

The bartender came over and placed the beers on the table.

The young man smiled.

"Thanks Bill."

"Get yer boots off my table."

The young man chuckled, "Chill Bill. Stop being so uptight, why don't cha? Ha! Chill Bill! That rhymes!"

Bill rolled his eyes, "Wow, yer pretty smart. Good to see yer momma put somethin into that thick skull of yers."

"Har Har Bill."

The two older men couldn't help but laugh at the bartenders quip.

"Shut it you two, before you find a boot up yer ass," the young man retorted.

The young man was pulling out a cigarette from his pocket when he heard shuffling and shouting from the other side of the bar.

The young man placed the cigarette between his lips and pulled out a small matchbox from his pocket.

He looked over at the other side of the bar to see a tall, fat, balled man clutching a shorter blonde man by the collar against the wall, hold a knife to his throat.

The young man struck a match and lit his cigarette.

Here we go.

The young man casually made his way to the other side of the bar, stopping near the side of the bald man.

"What seems to be the problem here, sir?" the young man asked, taking a draw of his cigarette.

"Why don't you mind yer own business."

"It just want to know why yer holding a knife against this man's throat, is all."

"If ya must know, he's stickin his nose into other people's business. Won't stop blabberin about needin information he don't need to know."

"Put him down, he looks pretty harmless."

"He needs to learn his lesson about keeping his nose out of other's peoples business."

The bald man drew the knife closer to the blonde man's throat, grazing the blade against the tender skin of his throat.

Cl-click.

The bald man turned his head to find a Colt .45 Peacemaker two inches from the bridge of his nose.

The young man stared into the bald man's eyes.

"Put him down. I'm not afraid to spatter the walls with your brains."

The bald man was left with no choice being unarmed and unprepared. He slowly withdrew his knife and placed the man back on the ground.

The blonde man slid into the fetal position against the wall. He gasped, clutching his hands around his throat. There was blood dripping down the collar of his shirt

The young man kept the revolver pointed at the bald man.

"Are you alright there?" asked the young man.

The blonde man coughed, "Yes, I'm fine. Just a scratch, just need some bandages."

"Good," said the young man, "means baldy hear gets to live another day."

He kept the gun pointed at the bald man as he waved his hand with the cigarette at the man to follow him.

"Come with me. We need to get you cleaned up."

The blonde man didn't hesitate. He scuffled to his feet and made his way to the door, stumbling against the tables and chairs throughout the bar.

The young man laughed. "See ya fellas later."

The young man kept his glare on the bald man. He nodded over to the bartender.

"Sorry Bill, I'll pay my tab later."

Bill didn't seem to be phased by the situation before him. He just continued cleaning the countertops.

"It's fine, son. Go on along."

The young man smiled at the bartender and nodded at his companions.

"Be good while I'm gone boys."

With that, the young man left the bar.

One he stepped outside, he took one last draw from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stomping it out with his boot.

He looked over at the blonde man, bent over with one hand on his knee and the other on at the wound on his neck.

"Are ya sure your okay there?"

"Yea, I'm fine. Let's just go so we can stop the bleeding."

"Where's your horse?" asked the young man.

The blonde looked over his shoulder at the stall. His eyes grew wide with disbelief.

"Fuck!" the blonde man yelled.

The young man smiled, he knew that look anywhere.

"Someone stole yer horse, didn't they?"

The blonde man hesitated.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Happens a lot around here buddy. By the look of the fancy coat and the accent, yer far from home, city boy. This isn't the city bud, this is the West. What's your name?"

The young man looked as if he was going to protest but he bit his tongue; the young man didsave his life.

"Arthur Kirkland, what is yours, young man?"

Without a word, the young man made his way toward Arthur, pulling out a red handkerchief from his back pocket. He folded it into a band and tied it around the wound, trying to suppress the bleeding.

He tapped lightly on Arthur's nose with his index finger.

A smile stretched across the young man's face, "My name is Alfred. Alfred F. Jones, I would remember it if I were you."

Arthur rolled his eyes at the rowdy young man. Alfred found the shade of red Arthur's face was turning amusing.

"I guess I shall, you saving my life and all."

Alfred chuckled, "I reckon so."

Alfred waved Arthur toward a chestnut brown mustang.

"You need help getting up here. You're kinda short n' all…"

"If you didn't just save my life, I'd pop you in the mouth."

Alfred laughed, this man was funny, kinda…interesting to say the least.

Arthur made his way up on the back of the horse, sort of struggling.

Alfred tried not to laugh, but a snicker slipped through his lips anyway.

"Shut up, you git."

Arthur was turning slightly red again, making Alfred snicker even louder.

Alfred hitched up onto the horse and grabbed the reins.

Alfred glanced over his shoulder at Arthur.

"You might want to hold on."

"What are you?-aaahhhh!"

Before Arthur could finish his statement, they were flying South, down the road into the distant plains.

It was reaching close to dusk as their horse galloped down the winding trail. The sky was painted with different shades of purples, reds, and oranges as they made their way into the horizon.

Arthur clinged to Alfred for dear life as they raced across the prairie. He wouldn't let up his death grip around the Alfred's waist and his forehead buried in between his shoulder blades. Arthur was too afraid of falling off the horse to let go.

Alfred started to slow down as he spotted the ranch in the distance.

"We're almost there, buddy."

"My name is Arthur, not buddy."

Alfred chuckled, "Sure, whatever ya say."

"Why did we have to gallop the whole way here anyway?" Arthur asked, "I'm not bleeding to death, you know."

Alfred looked over his shoulder and shrugged.

"I don't know…cause I wanted too."

Arthur stared blankly at the young man.

"Really? We raced all the way here because you felt like it?"

Alfred grinned, "Yep. Exactly."

Arthur just signed. There were no proper words to describe this man.

"I'm guessing that you're one of those cowboys I keep hearing about back east."

Alfred laughed, "What gave ya that idea?"

"The cowboy hat, the bandana, the chaps and the revolver to name a few things, not to mention the whole toting a revolver around in public."

"Hey, my revolver saved yer life!"

"Yes, it did and I'm grateful for that, but I'm not use to people being armed and dangerous at all times."

"That's cause yer a fancy city boy from the East Coast. You didn't have to worry about someone robbin ya or threatenin ya at any point in the day. The west is a bit more…lawless than where you come from."

"I can see that," Arthur exhaled.

"Are ya sure it was a good idea for you to come out here?"

"I have business to attend to, so yes, I'm sure."

"Whatever, just try not to get killed again, buddy."

Arthur only huffed.

They were getting closer now; they could see a house nestled in the hill surrounded by fencing on each side. The wood was faded on the outside from year of wear and tear, but it was still a quaint little house. It seemed inviting and cozy. Out front, there was a porch with a few rocking chairs.

Alfred halted the horse next to the front porch, hopping down and offering his hand to help Arthur get down from the horse.

Arthur was going to refuse, but decided to accept his offer in an attempt to save himself from the embarrassment if he failed to get down properly by himself. He grabbed the cowboy's hand and hauled himself down from the horse. Hitting the ground, he found himself caught off balance. He was about to fall flat on his face when he felt two strong hands caught hold of his sides.

"You okay there Artie?"

"I'm fine, wait-my name is not Artie, it's Arthur!"

"Okay, whatever ya say, Arthur. Go inside and make yourself at home. I'll be there in a minute. I got to put away the horse."

"O-okay."

Arthur walked up the steps, onto the porch and paused, staring at the wooden door. He took a deep breath and walked into the unfamiliar territory. Once he entered the house, he was greeted to the sight of a small living room with a few chairs encircling a small table. There was a fireplace in the corner with a mantle displaying different trinkets. Arthur took a seat in a cushioned chair in the corner and closed his eyes. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted. The near-death experience had worn him out. He looked around the room. It was modest but quaint. Arthur started drifting off into a light snooze when he heard the thumping of footsteps walk up the stairs, onto the front porch.

Alfred stepped into the living room with a grin plastered across his face.

Damn, does he ever not smile? Well, excluding the times when he has a gun in someone's face.

"You look comfy there, dontcha?" he teased.

"Shut it, git."

"Tell me, where exactly are ya from? I've met some Yankees before but you don't sound like any of them fellas."

"I'm actually British. I'm from London. I moved to the States when I was ten. "

"That explains a lot. You're a fish outta water everywhere. Aren't ya?"

"Actually, it isn't that bad. I live in New Bedford and it's easy to mistake it for England at times. Everyone in our community isBritish."

"Hm, well I'll be damned."

Alfred's smile quickly grew into a look of concern.

"Hold on a second Artie, I got to get some supplies from the cupboard, your neck is bleeding again."

Arthur looked at him quizzically and glanced down to see a dribble of blood run down his collar. He placed his hand on the bandana to stop the wound from bleeding any further.

"Be right back."

Alfred ran out of the room and into the back of the house. Arthur stayed there holding his neck while Alfred went in search of medical supplies. Alfred reappeared a few minutes later with some white bandages, a cloth, and a bowl of hot water.

Alfred pulled a chair up toward Arthur's and started carefully removing the bandana from around Arthur's neck. He held the bandana against the wound while he wetted the clean cloth.

He removed the bandana and started wiping the wound, trying to clean off all the dried blood that was encrusted around the wound.

"F-fuck!" Arthur yelped.

"Sorry, I'll try to be gentler."

Alfred giggled and continued the task at hand. He dipped the rag back into the bowl and rung it out, and then continued wiping the wound.

"You should be good, just need some bandages."

Alfred started wrapping the bandages around Arthur's neck.

"It wasn't that bad, but it refused to close and stop bleeding. If it was any worse, we might've been takin you to a doctor to get sewn up."

"Good, I really don't need to see a doctor my first night in town."

"Haha! It's your first night in town? You almost died and you've been here less than a day!" Alfred started busting into laughter.

"Shut up! I only got into the situation because that barbaric man did not want to tell me where is friend was! I know he knows too because I overheard him blabbering about talking to him with his goons! I need to know where he is!"

"Who are you looking for in these parts?"

Arthur paused, "John "Bulldog" Bass."

Alfred paused.

"Bulldog Bass? Why you lookin for him? Why do ya have business with Bulldog?"

"You know him?

"I don't know him personally. I've just read about him in the papers. He's wanted by the Texas Rangers and the U.S. Marshalls"

"As so I've heard. Word had it, he was headed here to Austin. I was hoping to catch up with him out here somewhere."

"What business do ya have with that fella? You're not into any trouble are ya?"

"Heavens no, I desire to take him down."

"Are you a bounty hunter?"

"No. I just want to see him pay for what he has done."

Arthur could feel his muscle's tense at the thought of that man and what he did to his mother.

"If you're not in it for the money, then why did ya travel all the way here to Texas? Did he do somethin to ya?"

Arthur cut his gaze away from Alfred and stared at his lap.

"He took something away from me…He killed my mother."

Alfred froze and looked serenely at the blonde man in front of him. He sighed before finishing his task, securing the bandages.

"All done. You're gonna live, buddy."

"Thanks."

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air. Without saying a word, Alfred got up from the chair and walked outside. Arthur was left there seated in the living room surrounded by the cleaning supplies. He was a little confused as of why the young cowboy left so abruptly without a word. Arthur took a deep breath and left his seat to find the cowboy. He didn't have to go far for Alfred was outside sitting on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette. Alfred turned his head at the sound of footstep coming from behind him. He looked at Arthur, and then turned his attention back to the view of the plains in front of him.

Alfred took the cigarette from his lips and placed it between his fingers.

"You know that you have no chance catching this man, right?"

Arthur's furrowed his brow.

"What the hell make you say that!" he snapped.

"You have no gun, no horse, and no knowledge of this land. You won't make it one day out here."

Arthur was about to argue, but he didn't really had no way of defending himself. The cowboy had a point, but he wasn't going to admit it. He really wasn't as weak as he kept making him out to be, he could take care of himself, but he was at a disadvantage. Arthur couldn't deny that.

"I-I, I can do it."

"You're gonna need some help out there."

"Where do you suggest I find help in tracking this man?"

"I'll help ya."

Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You will? What's your angle? What do you want from me?"

Alfred took a drag from his cigarette.

"I don't want nothin. Well, maybe a share of the reward, but that's about it."

Arthur wasn't convinced.

"This seems a little bit too easy. How am I supposed to know that you're not going to screw me over?"

Alfred looked up into the Brit's eyes.

"You can't. You just gotta trust me."

Arthur looked at the cowboy in front of him. How could he trust this man he just met? Granted, he did already save his life. Speaking of which…

"Why did you save me there at the bar?"

"I couldn't let an innocent man die, could I? I might be a cowboy at heart but I still believe in standing up for what's right."

"That's very noble of you."

"Na, that's just me being a decent person."

Arthur smiled. Maybe there was something more to this rowdy cowboy after all.

"Okay then. Let's work together."

"We'll work out the details tomorrow. I gotta get supplies together tonight. You should probably get some rest. You can stay here if you'd like."

"Err, will that won't be necessary. I'm staying at the inn in town. I'll be fine."

"It might be better for you to stay here though. I can't trust ya out there by yourself. Bulldog's boys are still out there in town."

"Well, my stuff is at the inn."

"I'll get yer stuff Artie, you just stay here and rest."

"It's Arthur, not Artie, git."

Alfred just chuckled in response.

Arthur looked at the cowboy and sighed. He still didn't quite understand Alfred, but he couldn't complain. The young man was sticking his neck out for him, which made him feel a little uneasy.

"Why are you helping me so much?"

Alfred turned his head and smiled with the cigarette sticking out between his lips. He took hold of the cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Because you're pathetically hopeless without my help."

Arthur felt a pang of annoyance creep over him.

"I'm not pathetic! I told you! I can take care of myself!"

Alfred flicked his cigarette into the dirt and stomped it out in the dirt. He looked over at Arthur and chuckled.

"I highly doubt that Artie, not out here."

Well, this might be harder than Arthur thought. This cowboy was getting under his skin with the deprecating comments and it wasn't even day one!

Sorry I was going to update sooner, but the Hetaween event was waaayyy to engrossing. Also, Biology. It sucks. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I hope it doesn't suck. I got plans to start introducing another nation next chapter. It's going to be fuuuuunnn! Also, I'll try harder to update sooner, but I also have to start working on my USUK Secret Santa Prompt which is freakin' adorable and I can't wait to start on it!

Also thank you for MidknightPhantom for pointing out its "reins" not "reigns" *face palm*