Chapter Nine: Good Friends, Fine Guns, Fast Horses, and Good Whiskey...
"'Members of my Legion of Terror will attend seminars on Sensitivity Training. It's good public relations for them to be kind and courteous to the general population when not actively engaged in sowing chaos and destruction." ― the Evil Overlord List
Xander Harris looked across the table at his girlfriend. Ok, huh, promise rings... would that make her his girlfriend or his fiancée? Or something in between?
No matter: his, regardless of what it meant. Or he was hers. Or something...
They were seated at a back corner booth at the main dining room of the Sunnydale Arms Hotel, where they were staying. After the, uh, festivities upstairs – good word that, 'festivities' – they'd been too close to starving to wait until they hit the Paradise.
Luckily, they'd discovered, whoever had sent them here and had provided the little Info Dump People in the backs of their heads, and the appropriate skill infusions, had thought of more than that. Just like with the weapons and horses and personal gear, their packhorse had been carrying a decent wardrobe for each of them among the other stuff. They'd had the hotel manager send a runner to the stables to have it sent over after they'd first checked in, before going down to the baths...
He'd found extra jeans, vests, shirts and whatever, along with an oilskin garment bag holding four late 1800's cut western style suits. Cory had had a number of dresses, skirts, and what-have-yous amongst the assortment of shirts, riding pants, jeans, and riding skirts.
They'd also found some ironwood stakes, a slim, straight bladed sabre, and a pair of short swords...
Yeppers. We might not be in Kansas any more, Toto, but we're definitely still in Sunnydale.
Cordy currently had a stake tucked in her handbag. He had one tucked in his belt, in the small of his back. They'd left the swords in their room. But, Xander had recalled a) a few features of vampire and vampire killing lore from Giles, b) a couple of vampire vulnerabilities that weren't often useful, and c) a certain feature of black powder, and of early smokeless powder, dimly remembered from watching his uncle Rory night shooting varmints...
Cordelia was currently looking especially edible in another high necked, almost sheer white blouse with a blue gray long skirt, vest, and hip length form fitting jacket kind of thing with puffy upper sleeves. She looked every inch the proper Western 19th Century lady. All she needed was one of those matching hats with a trailing feather...
They almost hadn't made it out of their room. Why yes, she did look that edible, thank you.
She also had her Smith and Wesson in a shoulder holster under the jacket thing, with the shorter one in the high-ride holster behind her right hip. And her backup in her purse...
Xander had gone with, just for grins (and because he really didn't want to embarrass Cordy, for once) a nice looking suit of a brown so dark it was almost black, with an ivory shirt with very faint, narrow, brown pinstripes. Dark brown and ostrich dress boots. He'd kept the Aussie hat. There'd also been a pair or so of alternative holsters for his handguns.
He now had the long barreled target HG in a clip shoulder holster under his left arm, under the suit coat, bowie under the right. And the five-and-a-half inch in a Threepersons behind his right hip. And, while they'd left the long rifle and the 1886 upstairs, he currently had Cordelia's Model 1892 rifle leaning in the corner of the booth nearby, in easy reach of his left hand. It was lighter and handier than the long ten-and-a-half pound 1886. Handier... hell, at six point five pounds, it felt like a switch in his hands. But it shot real nice, he seemed to recall...
Not a .40-82, but anyone who could just shrug off a .44 S&W Long, he didn't want to know. Cordelia was carrying her fancy new J.P. Sauer Drilling, instead of the rifle.
If the restaurant hostess that seated them had thought it odd or uncouth that he leaned the rifle up handy and where it was conspicuous to anyone who might want to cause them an issue, and who might recall seeing him shoot – she didn't say, or indicate in any way whatsoever.
Paranoid? Naw. Heh – scratch that. After that bit in the bath house salon, he was paranoid as all get out. He'd even specifically asked for a corner table out of line of sight of the windows.
"What?" Cordelia looked at him curious, apparently having noticed his intense gaze on her.
"Nothing. Just noticing how ravishing you look."
"Hah." Cordelia gave him the thousand watt smile. "You should know. You certainly ravished me thoroughly enough."
"And I'm thinking about doing it again," Xander said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
"Not in public, dear. You remember what Rory said."
"Are you ready to place your orders?" A waitress had appeared next to their table, as if by magic. Which, in Sunnydale... might happen. You never knew.
Xander looked up, smiling, and froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he was vaguely aware that Cordelia had also frozen, mouth half open in shock.
"Uh... " Xander nodded, a bit numbly. "Ampata?"
The girl blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"Uh, sorry. You just look... so much like someone I once knew," Xander said, awkwardly.
"Oh." The pretty – very pretty – Hispanic girl smiled at him. "You might. I kind of remember you two from five or so years ago, before you left. But it's Ianara, not Ampata. Ianara Gutierrez."
"Ah. Must be it," Cordelia said, smiling at her.
"It's good to see you back," Ianara said, smiling. She leaned forward, and said in a conspiratorial tone, "And I hope you don't mind being the subject of gossip. Almost everyone is all abuzz about you coming back. Especially with your fiancée winning first and grand in all three competitions." Her eyes flicked to the rifle leaning in the corner... "Is that... "
"No, it's Cordy's," Xander said. "Mine are stored."
Cordelia shook her head, still smiling. "And no. I've gossiped enough that it's probably only fair to be on the return end, for a change."
"Hey, I might mind," Xander said.
"Well, yes, but you're a guy. Who cares?" Cordelia said, and both girls giggled at his expression.
"Fine," Xander said, acting huffy. "I'll have a steak, with uh, whatever trimmings. Rare-medium rare." He winked at Ampata, uh, Ianara, to let her know he was only kidding.
"Me too. Ooh! No, the red fish, if it's fresh," Cordelia said.
"It is. Fresh from the Carpinteria docks, and kept on ice. We wouldn't serve anything less," Ianara told her. "Drinks?"
"Water and a beer. Something decent," Xander said, shrugging. "Mexican, if you have it."
"Same for me, too." Cordelia looked thoughtful, and added, "And bring us a bottle of wine also. Red. Possibly something from the Santa Ynez vineyards, if you have anything good."
She nodded. "I'll put these in, and bring you your drinks. Signal me if you need anything else, or refills."
She did those things, and then left them alone to go about her duties. A wine steward, or at least Xander guessed that was what he was, brought their wine. Xander let Cordelia do the cork sniffing and tasting and approval thing. He barely knew wine from red piss at this stage of his life.
Xander and Cordelia glanced around, Xander sipping carefully at his beer. Not bad. And the place wasn't exactly empty, for a Sunday night. Must be leftovers from the competition crowds and festivities.
He frowned, catching Cordelia's eye. "I see Mayor MacReptile is holding court over there."
"Uh huh," Cordelia nodded. "With, uh, what's their names, Stillwell and Maitland. And the two puppies." She glanced at him, smiling. "MacReptile?"
"Our esteemed Interim Mayor has eyes like a rattlesnake. Flat, cold, and dead."
"Ah." Cordelia shivered, and took a sip of her beer.
Boone, aka Stillwell, and Xander kept wanting to call him "Paladin", raised his wine glass to them in an ironic looking toast. Xander returned the gesture, just as ironically.
"So, Ampata," Cordelia said, arching her eyebrows at him. "Stirrings of old feelings? You looked like you'd seen a very welcome ghost."
"Stirrings, yes," Xander said, "But I'm not sure of what." He shivered.
Cordelia looked at him curiously, not saying anything. He shrugged, "More like... someone walking across your grave? That thing with her... uh, going all to pieces on me was... gross, and nasty. And really, really sad."
Cordelia nodded, sipping at her beer. "I know you liked her. You've said so, the little you've said about it."
"I did. Lots," Xander said. he paused, searching his feelings as much as he was for the right words. You just didn't tell a girl you've just slept with that you still felt sad over losing another one. Especially when one of the girls was Cordelia Chase. He might not know much about girls and relationships, but he knew that much. Or so he thought.
Xander shrugged, finally, giving Cordelia a wry feeling half smile. "Over and done. I like you now. And that bridge kinda burned itself in the nastiest and most final kinda way... Besides. Not that guy, not that girl, and this isn't that Sunnydale."
Cordelia nodded. "I wondered," she said. "And no, I wasn't going to bite your head off and storm out if you said the wrong thing," she added. "Not sure there is a wrong thing. Unless you'd just like, blatantly lied to me. Thank you for not."
"Ah."
"Sir, Madam, my apologies for the intrusion."
Xander and Cordelia looked up to see the Restaurant Manager standing by their table wearing a tux and looking very severe and very formal. "Mister Stillwell at the other table wishes me to inform you that your bill here is on him."
"Oh?" Cordelia raised and eyebrow, and then glanced over to the Mayor's table. She got a raised glass from Stillwell and from Wilkins and returned it. Xander glanced over as well, and smiled.
"Ah. If you would, please, tell Mister Stillwell that," Xander began. He paused for a moment, searching for words. "That," he said, "We thank him, sincerely, but we much prefer to pay our own way. That I'm not in the habit of accepting gratuities from strangers, and he hasn't hired me for anything that I'm aware of."
The Manager blinked and stared at him for a long moment, and then said, carefully, "Would you like to have that statement delivered in those words, sir?" Cordelia blinked, also, and looked at him curiously.
"Exactly those words, if you would, please."
The Manger looked at him for a moment, and then broke out into a wide and genuine smile. He bowed slightly, his eyes dancing. "It would be my very great pleasure to do so, Sir. And if I might say, the Sunnydale Arms would be most delighted to comp this meal for a returning son and daughter of our fair city."
"That, we'll be most happy to accept," Xander said. He inclined his head, grinning, and winked at the manager.
He got a wink back, and another slight bow. "I shall so inform the esteemed gentleman. Do enjoy your meal, and your stay. Oh – and congratulations on your wins today, Sir."
"That was very nicely done," Cordelia said, once the manager left. "Elegantly vicious."
"You don't have to look so astonished," Xander said, grinning at her.
"I'm just... stunned, I think is the word," Cordelia said. "My daddy couldn't have done it better."
"I steal only from the best," Xander raised and tilted his wine glass to her, and she clinked hers with him, grinning back.
Mister Stillwell surely didn't look pleased once the Manager finished delivering Xander's thanks and regrets. Neither did his son, or little brother or whatever he was. Nor did Mayor MacReptile. Maitland, however, looked faintly amused.
Well, just fuck Mister Stillwell and Interim Mayor Wilkins. Xander didn't work for either of them, last he checked, and wasn't going to have any possible misunderstandings about where he stood in the little mess shaping up in this town. Not after that business at the bath house, and the discussion with Sheriff Fat Bob.
"But was that smart?" Cordelia said.
"Probably not. But when have I ever been smart?" Xander said. Fuck 'em, he thought again. He'd rather be grouped with Dude. He liked Dude, and Dude didn't have eyes like a snake and Dude didn't have snakes working for him.
"On occasion," Cordelia said. She nodded, "You're probably right, though. I wouldn't care to have anyone who's kids run around with Wilkins' lackeys and Stillwell's goons thinking we owe him anything. Not even a meal."
"My thoughts exactly."
"Oh, look," Cordelia said, sounding a lot more happy. "Old friends. Well, not so old maybe, but it's starting to look like three days is a long time in this universe."
Xander followed her eyes and grinned. He caught their eyes and gestured, raising his eyebrows.
"Well, hell. If it isn't the Sharpshooter Kid and his pretty lady," Glenn said.
Kevin grinned down at them, "Might we join you two young dignitaries?"
"Why, are we coming apart?" Xander said, and gestured at the open other end of the curving booth. "Soitanly. Just don't call me Sharpshooter – I use a Winchester, not a Sharps."
"I always get those mixed up," Glenn said, sliding in, Kevin following after.
"No wonder you lost the long range, then," Kevin told him. "And the general."
Ampata, uh, Ianara came over and took their orders. They both had steaks, beers, and Kevin ordered another bottle of wine.
"That would explain it," Glenn allowed. He glanced at the '92 propped in the corner, and said, "Heard a rumor that the two of you had a mild discussion with some of Wilkins' goons, a bit earlier."
"Ah. Is that what that was," Cordelia said. "I thought it was an altercation, but I always get those mixed up."
"You'll have to excuse my companion," Kevin said. "He gets confused over words with more than one syllable."
"Yep. My education is sadly lacking," Glenn said, grinning.
"We did. It was solved. It ended," Xander said. "And, so... I thought you two would be headed back to Santa Barbara and Santa Ynez by now?"
"Well, the caravan is staying over and heading out tomorrow morning, early. They're camped out near the Fort end of town," Glenn said. "And when we got here, I found a telegraph from Mister Chase asking me to look over some stock for him. So... "
"He's staying over a few days," Kevin said, "And as for myself, I decided to play a bit of poker and recoup my wasted entry fee."
"Ah. We're headed to the Paradise after this," Xander said, "But I don't think poker is on my menu."
"Better not be. We're saving up for that clothes buying spree you promised me," Cordelia said. She nodded to the two friends. "You both look nice."
Xander wouldn't have said nice – hey, guy, and not gay, no matter what Larry thought – but they did have on their Sunday best. Glenn had changed into new, black jeans and fancy boots, with a black shirt with tiny silver and turquoise arrowhead pattern, and a braided bolo tie with a silver and obsidian arrowhead clasp. New gray Stetson with black and silver band. Kev had another of his black frock coat suits with a black shirt, and a similar bolo tie, only in native silver and malachite. And both had on their fancy gunbelts: silver trimmed and engraved like Lone Ranger rigs.
"Why thank you, young miss," Glenn said. "And if you don't mind my sayin', I'll extend the courtesy to you and your young feller here."
A nod from Kevin. "We'll walk over to the Paradise with you after dinner, and you don't mind."
"And if we do mind?" Xander asked, curiously.
"Why then, we'll just walk over there with you anyway," Glenn said, smiling.
"So... some stock?" Cordelia said, looking to Glenn. "Cattle or horses?"
"Both actually," Glenn said, while lighting an after dinner cigar. "There's a few studs here in town to look over, and Xander's uncle said he'd send down some nice colts and fillies, and a few yearling stud bull calves tomorrow or next day that he thought we might find interesting."
"Huh. Really?" Cordelia held up a hand, "Not really surprised, I guess... just..."
"Surprised?" Glenn asked, smiling.
"Well, yeah, kinda," Cordelia said, nodding. "I didn't think Rory really cared all that much for William Chase."
"Eh," Glenn said, shrugging. "No feud or anything, they're just not best pals. And neither of them like Maitland all that much."
"Besides," Kevin said, smiling. "What's like got to do with business, anyway?"
"Too true," Cordelia said, nodding again. "Just always figured Rory would set a dislike in stone and then build monuments to it."
Xander laughed, nodding. Glenn grinned at her, and said, "I see you do know Rory Harris."
"Well, sure," Cordelia said. "I mean, he practically helped raise us kids out there, until Xander and I fell out and I stopped hanging out with him and going out there."
"And yet you picked him to run away from Sunnydale with?" Kevin sounded honestly curious.
"Go figger," Xander said. Cordelia swatted him almost reflexively, and Xander added, "Help! Spousal abuse! Oh, help!" and got a real swat for his troubles. He grinned.
"Oh, hush, you. Jerk," Cordelia said. She shrugged, and answered Kevin. "Well, yeah. Not like we really hated each other or anything," she forestalled any comment from Xander with a glare, and he held his hands up in surrender. "Besides, when he had to go on the run, I wasn't about to stay here alone with Jack O'Toole and Kyle, and there wasn't anyone better to run off with."
"Ouch."
"Oh, bite me. You so know that's not what I meant," Cordelia said, huffing at him. "And so exactly what I meant."
"Are you sure you two haven't already been married for the past four years?" Glenn asked, laughing. Cordelia glared at him, and huffed again, folding her arms over her chest.
"I'm sure. I'll bet Cordy would have told me if we were," Xander said. "And in no uncertain terms."
"Got that right, Goofball," Cordelia said, smirking.
They set off up the street for the Paradise, Cordelia picking up her shotgun from the Hotel veranda support she'd leaned it against while they were talking. Xander carried her rifle over his shoulder, hand on the pistol grip through the lever and finger outside the trigger guard, while she slung the drilling.
And if anyone thought it odd or scandalous to see a beautiful, well dressed young woman carrying a custom twelve gauge over her shoulder on a night on the town, well, screw 'em.
The Sunnydale Arms was one of the few brick or stone buildings in town right now, the others being the bank, Episcopalian Church, County Jail -slash- Courthouse, and City Hall. Most of the others were wood construction, wood frame and facade, and/or adobe, like the Mission and the one he'd spotted from overlooking the town. The one he'd identified as the Marshall's Office and Town Jail, from the town map in the hotel lobby. The Arms was a truly nice looking baroque type – he thought that was the word – multistory story building with gargoyle water spouts and fancy trim. Tallest building in Sunnydale right now, and would be for some time...
And one of the few he recognized as still standing in their Sunnydale.
"Cordy and Jesse and I grew up together from about when we were about five, after mine and Jesse's dad and Cordy's dad got killed by bandits when we were young," Xander said. Info Dump guy had informed him that he and Jesse had been real brothers – half brothers to be precise – here, rather than just blood brothers, during the initial altercation with Jack when Cordelia had been remembering things to Dude and Vin...
"And love, friends, or doing the hate hate slap slap kissy kissy thing for a decade or not, no one hurt my girl and my brother and got away with it," Xander said. "Nobody. I wasn't leaving her with Jack and Kyle and their buddies, either."
"Wasn't about to let him hang for it, when we thought he'd killed O'Toole, either," Cordelia said. "We didn't know Jesse died from being stabbed, and shot by Kyle. Not until later, and by then we were a long ways away... "
Glenn nodded. "Don't fault you for that. Was just curious, is all." Kevin nodded, giving Xander an approving look.
"By the way – who was the pretty woman sitting with Wilkins at table?" Xander said, curiously.
"Edna May Stillwell, Stillwell's oldest daughter," Kevin said. "Richard Wilkins has been courting her – and Stillwell through her, since he arrived in town, almost."
They came up on a three story wood building with an elaborate front facade, a ways farther up the main drag, and Xander's blood ran cold when he looked at the loungers on the long veranda. He nudged Cordelia and she stiffened, and gasped quietly.
Glenn and Kev looked at them curiously, and Xander said, softly, "Lyle and Tector Gorch."
"Ah, yeah," Kevin said, nodding. "Two of your esteemed Interim Mayor's, err, business associates and special assistants."
"And all of O'Toole's little gang of thugs except for Hauer and Barrie," Glenn said.
Yup. Sure was. And Wilson Slade, and Angel-Corby, and a rather dapper looking black man with a smirk and an expensive looking dark three piece suit to go with his Stetson and gunbelt.
He kinda hoped Tor and Heidi hadn't come to a bad end for helping them...
Xander smirked, and touched the barrel of the '92 to his hat brim in an ironic salute to Jack. Jack smiled back, coldly, and gave him a sarcastic two fingers to his own hat brim in return.
Angel doffed his Stetson to Cordelia, looking her up and down, smirking lasciviously, and Xander didn't like that at all.
He just didn't dislike it quite enough at the moment to haul off and bring the Winchester down and over and pop him one between the eyes for it. Yet.
Give it time. He was developing an even stronger dislike for that smirking sonofabitch than he had had for their Angel back in their Sunnydale. At least theirs acted like he had a soul, when he had it, and he was a vampire. Wouldn't actually take much before just hauling off and shooting the man on general principles was a viable option...
Hell. It'd probably improve the species immensely. Kill him before he could breed.
"A lot of bars and saloons in this town," was all that Cordelia said, even when they were past. She hadn't even looked at them, beyond the quick glance to identify the Gorch brothers.
"Two," Kevin said. "The Double Eagle there, and the Paradise. And three cantinas, including one at the Fort Halleck end of town a bit out past the Marshall's Office."
"So, you know the Gorch brothers?" Xander asked.
"Unfortunately," Glenn said. "And know of, more than know. They make me feel a bit too hinky to want to get to know them. Hear tell they massacred a village down in Mexico 'bout a bit over a decade ago. Also heard tell they died down in South Texas a decade ago, before they showed up here."
"That's not really a barrier to showing up all mobile and stuff, in this town," Xander said, sourly. Glenn and Kevin looked at him sharply, and smiled thinly.
"So I hear tell," Glenn allowed. "Negro fella with them also works for Wilkins, and you don't see any of them around outside in the daytime, I understand."
Hearing Glenn refer to the black man as a negro gave Xander a small start, until he remembered that that was probably a more common term here and now than 'black', and a lot more flattering than some terms in common usage now. And he was glad Glenn hadn't used any of the others – he liked the man too much to want a reason to dislike him.
"Trick, I believe his name is," Kevin said. "Elias or Hezekiah Trick, depending on whom you ask."
"And all three work for Wilkins?" Cordelia said, with raised eyebrows. She gave Xander a look with a troubled expression behind it.
"Past three years or so, yes'm," Glenn said.
"Trick is supposedly Wilkins' executive assistant," Kevin stated. "And, unofficial troubleshooter, I hear."
Xander nodded, his expression carefully blank. He was starting to get an unpleasant inkling as to why Whomever might have sent him and Cordelia to this time and place...
And internally cursing them a blue streak for not picking a Slayer to send. Like, oh, the wayward Buffy.
'Heh. Can you actually picture Buffy in a Stetson with a stake and a six-gun?' Still Small asked him. 'And on a horse taller than she is?'
No. Now that it was mentioned, try as he might, he honestly could not.