A/N: Here is Elijah's chapter, which follows script quite closely. Until Django and Schultz start getting mixed up with Calvin, it might be that way. Still, I do try and throw in some "original" scenes where I can. Anyway, here is is!
Warning: Due to the film's language and how close this fic will be following the movie at some points, the N-word will be used. I am simply using it for Canon, I do not in any way, shape, or form like the word, nor do I use it outside of this fic. I am willing to bump ratings if it bothers enough people, but for now I am putting this as fair warning.
Cooper's Gold
...
Chapter Three
There were nights were Elijah lay awake, usually laying on his side and staring off into space, or on his back and looking up at the sky.
He couldn't exactly pin point where the insomnia came from, but when it did, there was no way he would be able to get any shut eye. During those nights, he would spend time planning, thinking about the current bounty he and King would be currently hunting, or he would pull out the small paper he keeps in his brown overcoat and read over the scribbled words there.
With a slight sigh, he sat up from his spot on the ground and reached out towards where his boots lay, abandoned, by the blanket we was using as a mattress. He could never sleep with the damn things on, anyway. Taking his time to flip each of them over, shaking out whatever little critter could have crawled into them, he glanced over towards the sleeping forms of King and Django. Elijah wasn't entirely too sure what King was going to do with the slave, but he trusted the older man and knew that he must have had an idea as to why he bought Django.
Django was rather quiet, he only spoke a handful of times during the ride towards Daughtrey, usually simple and quick answers to the questions King would ask him. Elijah picked up on the sense of...hostility Django had towards him, which was understandable. Elijah's father, Will Cooper, had been a somewhat infamous slave trader, most slaves were brought by his father on their way to Greenville. Elijah wanted nothing to do with the business, but at that time he had been his father's only son. It resulted in him showing his face around some of the slaves, more so the plantation owners.
Still, the past is the past.
He was rather ashamed of it, but he was trying to find some sense of redemption through this bounty hunting business, and Elijah couldn't have landed himself a better mentor than Dr. King Schultz.
Still, Django seemed to recognize him from somewhere, Elijah would catch him looking with a somewhat suspicious look on his face, though Elijah didn't try to force his companionship on Django. If anything, Elijah didn't force his friendship or company on anybody. He was never that social, anyway. Elijah just sat on his horse, brown eyes peering out from under the brim of his brown duster, his mouth naturally set in a frown, a few scars on his face from his battles. Though, he wasn't exactly the toughest looking fellow, he was lean but had a hidden strength to him.
With a sigh, he tossed his boot back onto the ground after giving it a good shake, his usually clean-shaven face darkened with dirt and grime, the starts of a moustache appearing just above his upper lip, something he hoped to get rid of soon. A bath would be great, too. At least his white undershirt, black vest, and brown trousers were...somewhat clean.
Pulling his hat down over his eyes, he leaned back on his blanket and closed his eyes, tucking his arm under his head and listened to the crackling of the slowly dying fire.
Tomorrow'll be a better day, Elijah thought to himself.
His eyes were closed, but he never really fell asleep.
The town of Daughtrey was like every other little town Elijah had rode through, he probably wouldn't have had to lived there his whole life to know where everything was, though the promise of an Inn was enough to put a small smile on his face. What Elijah wasn't used to was the gawking, how the townsfolk would stop in what they were doing to watch them go by, jaws slacked.
Or, more so, Django got gawked at. He rode along, sitting tall on his horse, Tony, while King rode along in his waggon with the bobbing tooth on top, Elijah trailing a little bit behind the two of them because his temperamental horse didn't feel like being ridden that day.
"What is everybody staring at?" King asked Django, Elijah managing to get Mud to ride up along side them.
"Ain't nobody seen a nigger on a horse before," Django replied, Elijah glancing around at the faces of the people they passed, heading towards the Inn.
Once they reached their destination, Elijah hopped off his horse rather quickly and started to lead him towards the post, hitching him there as the horse pulled at the reigns slightly. Elijah, in his sleepless state, let out a frustrated growl, making sure the animal was tied down tight so he wouldn't run off. Mud seemed to calm slightly, though, letting out a snort.
"He doesn't like to be tied down much, doesn't he?" King asked, giving Mud a small grin as Elijah reached up to remove his hat, scratching at his black hair.
"He doesn't like me," Elijah muttered, following King and Django into the Inn.
"Nonsense," King said, "that horse is just as stubborn as you are. I doubt there could be a better horse for you."
Elijah didn't give a reply to that, though the small smile that crossed his face proved that he seemed to agree. He came to a stop beside King as he watched the Innkeeper working on a light above the table.
"Good morning, innkeeper!" King greeted cheerfully, "three beers for three weary travellers."
"Still a bit early," the innkeeper said, not turning around to address them as he spoke, "we won't be open for another hour or so. By then we will be serving breakfast-" he had finished what he was doing with the light and turned around partly to continue talking, but his expression changed to one of alarm when he saw them, "whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell do you think you are doing, boy? Get that nigger out of here!"
The light behind his head swayed with his sudden movement, hitting him in the back of the head as he waited for the three of them to react. Elijah took a glance towards King, raising his eyebrows slightly as Django continued to stare down the Innkeeper. The man jumped down from his table, Elijah stepping out of his way as he raised past them, probably going to fetch a lawmen to deal with them.
So much for a bath and a bed, Elijah thought to himself, walking towards a table and sat himself down, listening to King shout after the Innkeeper about getting the sheriff and not the marshal.
"Alas," King said as he walked back into the Inn, "we will have to act as our own bartender."
Django took a seat across from Elijah as King headed towards the bar, Elijah trying to stifle a yawn.
"What kind of dentist are you?" Django asked, looking over towards King, who let out a laugh as he started to pour them some beer.
"Despite that cart, I haven't practised dentistry in five years," he replied, "I practice a different kind of profession these days. Bounty hunting. Do you know what a bounty hunter is?"
"No."
Elijah glanced towards the window, checking for anything out there. He was getting a little more nervous, wondering where that innkeeper had ran off to. He glanced back as King approached their table, pausing to make a reprimanding noise about Django's hat being on the table, placing the beer down after he had removed it. Elijah pulled his beer towards himself, watching with mild interest as King started to explain to Django about bounty hunting.
"Well, in the way that the slave trade deals in human lives, bounty hunting deals in corpses," King said, taking a seat, "the state places a bounty on a man's dead, I track that man, I find that man, I kill that man, and after I have killed that man, I transfer his corpse back to the authorities."
"Not exactly in that order," Elijah muttered, taking a swig from his drink.
"Ah, yes, well once I have found the authorities, I show them that corpse to prove that, yes, I have indeed killed him and at that point the authorities pay me the bounty," King said, "So, like slavery, it is a flesh-for-cash business."
"What is a bounty?" Django asked, Elijah taking another slightly anxious glance towards the window.
King paused after taking a drink, "it's like a reward."
"You kill people and they give you a reward?" Django asked, sounding a little disbelieving. Phrased like that, Elijah couldn't help but give a little amused smile. From that stand point, Django's point of view seemed reasonable.
"Certain people, yeah," King said with a nod.
Django paused, glancing over towards Elijah, "Bad people?"
"Ah, the badder they are the bigger the reward," King said, smiling slightly. Django looked between the two of them, looking a little unsure still.
"The both of you are bounty hunters?"
"Well, I'm a seasoned bounty hunter," King said, then gestured towards Elijah, "he is more of an...apprentice."
"Apprentice?" Elijah asked, sounding vaguely offended, "I've been with you for years."
"You are still learning things from me, aren't you?" King asked, giving him a smile, "of course, I mean that in the highest respect. You have certainly kept trouble off my back as I have yours."
"Of course," Elijah muttered, taking another swig from his beer.
"Now," King said, turning his attention back to Django, "this brings me to you. I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes to you. One one hand, I despise slavery. One the other hand, I need your help, and if you are not in a position to refuse, the better. So, for the time being, I am going to make this slave malarkey work for my benefit. But, still, having said that...I feel guilty. So, I would like the two of us to enter into an agreement. I'm looking for the Brittle brothers, however, at this endeavour I am at a slight disadvantage, in so far as, I do not know what they look like. But you do, don't you?"
Django seemed to get a somewhat clouded look on his face, Elijah could see something dark brewing in the young man. After a few moments, he started to nod.
"I know that they look like, alright," Django said.
"So, here is our agreement, you travel with me until-"
"Where are we goin'?" Django asked, Elijah hearing some commotion outside.
"Schultz..." Elijah started, glancing towards him with raised eyebrows.
"I'm aware, Elijah," King said, waving him off slightly as he continued, "I heard that at least two of them are overseeing up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where. That means we visit every plantation in Gatlinburg until we find them, you point them out, and I kill them. You do that, I agree to give you your freedom, Twenty-five dollars per Brittle Brother, that's seventy-five dollars...and as if on cue, here comes the sheriff."
Elijah stood as the burly looking sheriff walked into the inn, pausing at the door as he took in the scene. He chuckled slightly, looking at each of them.
"Okay, boys, fun's over. Come on out," he said, turning and stepping out of the inn. Elijah sighed slightly, following out after the sheriff with King and Django following. He watched as the sheriff started to address the crowd forming around the Inn.
"Alright, folks, calm down. Go about your business, these jokers will be gone soon," he turned to look back at the three men standing just outside the Inn, "Now, why do y'all want to come into my town and start trouble? Scare all these nice people?" he asked, Elijah watching as King started to approach him, knowing the look on the older bounty hunter's face all too well.
"You ain't got nothin' better to do than show up in Bill Sharp's town and show your ass-"
The sheriff's speech was cut short when King produced a small pistol from inside his coat's sleeve, putting a bullet into the sheriff's belly with a loud pop that made the crowd, and Django, jump in surprise. Elijah was a little surprised that King actually had a bounty in this town, he hadn't said anything to him. Though, much more has happened before with much less of a warning.
"What did you do to our sheriff?" someone from the crowd called out, King not answering as he walked around to the head of the groaning sheriff, silencing him with a shot to the head that made a woman faint and the crowd scatter with some screams.
King turned back towards in Innkeeper, who was staring at the dead sheriff with wide eyes.
"Now you can go get the marshal," King said, watching as he took off running. He turned back towards Django and Elijah with a smile, Elijah's expression borderline irritated and Django's shocked.
"Shall we wait inside?" he asked, walking towards the two of them to move them back inside the Inn.
"Can't we just leave?" Django asked as King started to push them back inside.
"No," King said, gesturing that he go back inside, "after you."
It wasn't long before more people started to show up outside the saloon, most of them armed. Elijah looked back towards King as he removed his pistol from its holster, tossing it onto the table beside King's weapons.
"The one in your boot as well," King said, "we need to show some good will with the marshal."
"Oh, so you don't plan on shootin' this one as well?" Elijah asked, bending down and pulled out a small pistol from inside a pouch he had cut in his boot, placing it on the table.
"No, he is the one we want to be talking with after what happened to the sheriff," King said, glancing towards Elijah, "though, with your rather fowl mood today, it would be best if you didn't."
"You are the one who has a way with words," Elijah muttered bitterly, glancing over towards Django, who was peering out a window at the commotion.
"Did you happen to get any rest last night?" King asked, removing his coat.
"Mind your own damn business!" Elijah snapped, giving him a glare, "you dragged me into a bounty without so much as a warnin', and to top it all off my damn horse is actin' up. You don't get to ask me how I fuckin' slept."
"I'll take that as a no, then," King said, Elijah shaking his head as he started to walk away from him.
"You in the sloon!" a new voice called in from outside the building, Elijah freezing as Django stepped back from the window, "we got a hundred rifles pointed every which way out of that building! You got one chance to get out of this alive! You, your nigger, and your lackey come out of there with your hands on your heads, and I mean right now!"
"Is this the marshal I have the pleasure of addressing?" King called back, Elijah not too sure about this whole thing. He was starting to regret removing all his weapons.
"Yes, it is. I am U.S. Marshal Gill Tatum."
"Wunderbar!" King said, "My associate and I have relieved ourselves of all weapons and, just as you have instructed, I am ready to step outside with my hands above my head. I trust as a representative of the justice system of the United States of America, I shant be shot down in the street, by either you or your deputies, before I have had my day in court!"
"You mean like you did our sheriff?" the marshal asked, "shot him down like a dog in the street!"
"Yes! That is exactly what I mean! Do I have your word as a lawman not to be shot down like a dog in the street?"
"Well," the marshal started, "as much as we would all enjoy seein' something like that, nobody cheats the hangman in my town."
"Fair enough, marshal! Here we come," King said, then turned to Django and Elijah, "now, things are a little tense out there, so don't make any abrupt movements and let me do the talking."
With his hands raised above his head, Elijah followed King and Django out onto the porch of the Inn, taking notice of all the rifle barrels pointed at them. He'd had guns pointed at him many times before, but, for some reason, this time it made him sweat slightly.
"You unarmed?" Marshal Gill asked, Elijah turning his attention away from the guns pointed at them and on the man speaking to them.
"Indeed we are," King said, "now, may I address you, marshal, your deputies, and apparently the entire town of Daughtrey, as to what just occurred?"
"Go on," the marshal said, Elijah shifting slightly as he tried to keep his hands high enough over his head.
"My name is Dr. King Schultz, and, like yourself marshal, I am a servant of the court. That man laying dead in the dirt, which the good people of Daughtrey thought good enough to elect as their sheriff, by the name of Bill Sharp, is actually a wanted outlaw named Willard Peck, who has a price on his head of two hundred dollars," he said, pausing, "now, that's two hundred dollars, dead or alive."
"The hell you say!"
"I'm aware this is probably disconcerting news, but I am willing to wager that this man was elected sheriff in the past...two years?" King continued, the marshal nodding, "I know this because three years ago he was wrestling cattle from The B.C. Corrigan Cattle Company of Lubbock, Texas." King waved the paper he held over his head slightly, "Now this is a warrant made out by circuit court Judge Henry Allen Laudermilk of Austin, Texas. You are encouraged to wire him. He will back up who I am, and who your dear departed sheriff was. In other words, marshal, you owe me two hundred dollars."
Elijah started to lower his hands as the people around them started to talk quietly amongst themselves, gingerly letting his arms rest at his sides. A sense of relaxation started to come over him as the tension started to die down.
He took a glance towards King, who seemed satisfied with how everything went down, Elijah couldn't blame him. He certainly knew what he was doing, Elijah was just wishing for some downtime.
Though, with their new...partner, it seemed like things wouldn't be slowing down for a while.
