Derek was standing just outside the batwing doors of his saloon, anxiously keeping tabs on the brewing fight while keeping guard over his wares. Let the people sneak into the other saloon in town and drink his competition out of the business, but they'd not get his alcohol for free! A loud commotion from behind him suddenly drowned out what was happening on the street.
What drunk had woken up now? Derek wondered. He didn't want to miss the fight, yet he had to see who was about to tear up his fine establishment or help themselves to the brewery. He tried to keep one eye on the street as he slowly turned his head to look back inside.
His mouth fell open in shock for there was a strange, naked man standing at the bottom of the stairs! What the Hell had Hansel drug home now, and why couldn't he keep his naked piece in his room?! Derek ran back into the room and faced the stranger.
At last some one had come to meet Jack's demands! Jack peered angrily at him. "Is that you, Satan?" he asked.
Derek recoiled in shock. "I was about to ask you the same thing! Who the Hell are you, and what are you doing in my tavern?"
"I don't know how I came to be here."
Derek looked at the man. "Do I know you?" He studied him quizzically. Perhaps if he'd had some clothes on . . . ? It didn't matter, he told himself; it was just another one of Hansel's drunk play mates. "You say your name is Jack Sparrow, and you're some sort of Gypsy?" Derek questioned, looking down his nose at the naked man before him.
"Never heard of you," he announced staunchly, "and I don't know what hole Hansel dragged you up out of, but please go upstairs and put some clothes on before some of my customers see you and become consumed with the vapors!"
How could Hansel bring home such a disreputable character?! Derek wondered as he watched the man called Jack Sparrow slowly swagger back up the stairs. Even as he stood and watched the naked Gypsy swaggering up the stairs, he knew why Hansel had picked him. He could definitely strut his stuff!
Derek felt like running out into the street and shouting Hansel's name, but with the two lunatics out there who were about to gun each other down in the street, that was the one thing he absolutely could not do. How dare Hansel let his latest piece run loose in the tavern with no clothes on! Wasn't it bad enough that his bitchy sister was always calling people out and pulling his audience out of the saloon? Didn't Hansel have any better sense than that, or had he been into his brownies too deeply again? He stomped outside in search of his partner.
Jack was shaken up from his encounter with Derek and knew not where to turn. The man clearly owned the saloon, and yet he had no idea of how Jack had come to be sleeping in his room! How had he come to be here? Who had brought him here?
He thought about going in search of Hansel, whoever that might be, to find out where Hansel had found him. Maybe he would have some extra clothes and an explanation of how he had come to lose his own? What had happened between the time he had been following his target into an alley and had awoken in this strange bed in a saloon he couldn't recall ever setting foot in before in his entire life?
Before he could go and knock on the door to the next room, he heard a soft purr and felt a small and furry body rubbing his ankles as it twined between his feet. A grin burst over his face as he looked downward. "Willow!" he gasped, reaching down and picking his kitty up.
"Where have you been? Thank the Goddess you have survived!" He then looked gravely down upon his cat as he asked, "What happened last night? Wish you could tell me what's been going on."
The only answer was a rumbling purr as the kitty cuddled into him. Jack carried him into the room and released him onto the bed. "How the Hell did I come to be here, Willow?" He sadly sat down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
Willow moved closer so he could touch Jack and try to offer comfort to his best friend. He had no answers. He had simply woken up in the alley, smelled Jack, and followed his scent. He had found his best friend and, therefore, had no worries.
Jack continued to stroke the kitty. "What shall we do for clothes, Willow? Derek says I can't come back out until I find some." The kitty's tummy rumbled, and Jack's answered. He had no idea when either of them had eaten last. "The first order of business, my friend, is finding me some clothes. Do you think we could steal any?"
Willow jumped down, walked back to the window, and peeked out inquisitively.
"You might find yourself a nice, fat, juicy rat down there, but you might also get into trouble. Stay with me, and we'll get something to eat when we find some clothes."
Willow scampered over to the bed and crawled underneath it. Jack got down onto his knees and looked under the bed so that he could rescue Willow from any dustbunnies that happened to be under there. The first thing he saw was a case of some kind and then Willow's glowing eyes. "Don't look at me like that, cat. You spooked me," Jack scolded Willow even as he pulled the case out from under the bed.
He opened it slowly, making sure there were no nasty surprises inside, and was stunned to find a case of women's garments. "Those will be absolutely no help at all!" he told Willow, closing the case and sliding it back under the bed.
Jack hesitated only a brief moment longer before walking quietly out of his room and looking down the hall. There was no one around. He knew he'd have to help himself find some clothes. Beginning at the end of the hall, he started trying the doors to the rooms. He left the unlocked doors alone, vowing only to return to them if he had to, before finally finding one that was unlocked and opening it hopefully. He walked inside the room and looked around. He checked over the bed and nightstand first before proceeding to rummage through the drawers but didn't find anything he liked.
Jack found the next unlocked room to be identical to the first except for a few possessions, but they were nothing to intrigue him or to put on his handsome figure to attract any one. He shook his head, the beads in his long, jet black hair twinkling. No clothes, no money. He'd already figured out he had no possessions of any kind as he had checked his room first and found it to be completely empty except for the trunk of women's clothing. Where had his things gone? If he could find Hansel, maybe he'd have the answers.
The next room he came to made him pause in the doorway in shock. It was as though he had found himself in Ali Baba's cave. Every single inch of the room glittered. Soft and shimmery things beckoned to be touched by his fingers from every possible space. He reached out, touched some of the things, and found them to be silky as well.
Must be a woman's room, he thought, pulling himself out of the bewitching call and turning to the dresser, but then he opened the top drawer and began to find men's things. What man would be in a room like this? he wondered. It wasn't that it didn't call to Jack to the point that he wanted to lay in the fancy, feather bed and continue to run his fingers over the silken draperies that seemed to be hung everywhere in the room, but he simply couldn't imagine the type of man who would live so openly with so many pretty things.
Slowly, forcing himself to ignore the call of the finery and focus on his main target, Jack pulled out a pair of maroon pants. Slipping them on, he found them to be a tight fit but not uncomfortable. He found shirts in the second drawer. The first one he picked up was a soft, yellow blouse with billowing lace ruffling down the front. Again, he wondered about the man who would wear such clothes. Was it a woman trying to be a guy?
He slipped into the shirt and found that it was cut, with no buttons, down to his navel. He picked up another shirt, but it, too, had the same cuttings. "Oh, well, he said put clothes on," Jack remarked with an impish grin. His gold tooth flashed at him in the mirror that was attached to the dresser.
A delicious aroma had met the hungry man's nose the moment he'd first entered the room, but he'd forced himself to ignore it until now. He finally looked around again, his dark eyes searching eagerly as he hoped to spy something to eat. On a nearby dresser was a small plate that appeared to hold a piece of chocolate cake. Jack closed in on it in a hurry, and upon closer inspection, realized that it was not cake at all but brownies that some one had already been nibbling upon.
Jack took one gingerly and brought it to his nose. His tongue darted out, and he tasted the deliciousness of fresh baked chocolate. He moaned his pleasure around the bite he chewed slowly, his eyes drifting shut. He hadn't had chocolate in so long! He took a second bite and chewed this one even more slowly, savoring each granule. It tasted like nothing he'd ever had before! He took another bite and then another and another . . .
Pretty soon, Jack didn't care for where he was or where Hansel was. His head had grown as light as a feather, and it was all he could do to take the few steps it required to reach the bed. The soft mattress seemed to welcome him as he laid down on the bed. The room was spinning, and a kaleidoscope of glittery golds, purples, pinks, blues, yellows, and silvers danced in his dark eyes.
What the Hell was in that? he wondered. His last coherent thought was calling Willow, who raced into the room, jumped on the bed, and looked contemptibly down at the clothes Jack was wearing. He mewed in protest but received no answer. Upon realizing that Jack had fallen asleep, Willow curled protectively up around the top of his head and settled in to wait.
He couldn't figure out why Jack was sleeping, but he wouldn't leave him. Sooner or later, some one would come. They always did. Sometimes they were good, but sometimes Jack had to take a bite out of them with his sword. Right now, he didn't have a sword, but Willow had twenty and he wasn't afraid to use them. A rumbling purr came from him even as Jack nestled closer into the bed with a contented moan.
The streets of the town were empty except for the two who were walking away from each other, but the sidewalks were crowded with throngs of people straining forward for a better look at the happenings in the street. Dawson made his way amongst the people, listening to their talking, asking questions along the way, and jotting down notes.
He could scarcely believe his good luck in that for his very first reporting job in the wild west, he was covering a real, live shoot out and not just any shoot out but one between a mere slip of a girl and a big, brutish, well-known outlaw called Brad Simpson. He didn't know what the ruckus was about, but the townspeople were clearly excited over it and the bets on the side of the girl were growing wilder and heavier.
Dawson kept looking from the girl to the man and wondering, {Why?} He hoped that the girl would survive as he thought she was a looker and would like to be able to get her opinion about the event. He knew the people back East would get a kick out of reading about the shoot out and hoped that he could do the report justice and be able to talk to the beautiful girl after it was over.
"They never learn, do they, darling?"
"No, never," Hansel answered the pale-skinned woman beside him with a mischievous grin lighting his handsome face.
Eyes that were as black as a moonless night peered over at his excited face as the woman asked hushedly, "Do you ever fear that she'll meet some one she can't handle, make the wrong man angry?"
"The wrong man? Pshaw!" Hansel laughed. "That'd happen about like her meeting the wrong woman! There's not a person in this world who can beat Faith!"
"THERE YOU ARE!"
Derek's voice suddenly bellowing behind Hansel made the blonde jump, but then he forced his nerves to calm as his blue eyes cast a glance over his shoulder. "Oh, there you are, Derek. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed again this morning, honey?"
Derek reached a finger for his collar and straightened it stiffly. "I told you not to call me that."
The woman next to Hansel cast a glowering look down upon Derek. He was far too straight-laced for her tastes, and if she hadn't been so desperate to sing, she probably would have blown him off the very first day she'd come into town. Hansel had offered her the job, however, and Derek had let her stay after seeing what a huge crowd her luscious body attracted.
She liked the job, and she liked the money. Hansel had grown to be a dear friend, but Derek . . . Her black lips drew up into a sinister grin as she thought of what she'd done to the guy who had been the last man to piss her off before she'd wandered into Los Almas. She'd like to see Derek burn.
A shot rang out, and all eyes turned swiftly back to the street. Hansel's face immediately became as pale as a sheet as a bullet whizzed at Faith's back.
Before he could even shout her name, however, Faith spun around, dipping just beneath the bullet that passed harmlessly over her dark-haired head, and fired. She didn't know why she had bothered to actually let the man talk her into a duel instead of shooting him dead on the spot when he'd spilled beer on her boot for this was exactly what usually happened when she did allow her enemies such a chance.
She grinned, her eyes dancing with what some of the townsfolk whispered was the Devil himself, as her bullet blasted into the middle of Brad's groin. His howl of misery played on her ears like music as he dropped to his knees. She danced out of the way of his final bullet before firing again and catching him dead between the eyes. She smiled as he landed face first into the dirt and blew the smoke off her pistol to a chorus of approving shouts.
Dawson yelled just as loudly as the rest of the townspeople were in a cheering roar, but none dared to touch Faith to pat her on the back. Not only was she beautiful, but she was deadly to the aim! he reflected as he finished scribbling the drawing he had made of her. He would have loved to have congratulated the girl, but the way that she had snarled at every one who got near to her, he didn't dare. Maybe later she'd be in a better mood and he could approach her on the subject?
Now he just stood and watched as she made her way over to a blonde-haired guy, whom he heard, with surpirse and regret, her call "Blondie bear". He followed over and stood a short distance away, hoping to get a chance to talk to her or just have a chance to watch her longer. He had not seen a woman that intrigued him as much as Faith did ever before in his entire life! What he would give to be able to spend one night with her! He listened, hoping to get to hear something.
To Be Continued . . .