Disclaimer I own very little, especially not CSI NY. But I wish I did.

Notes Thank you very much indeed for all the reviews, I love to receive them. Please continue! Thanks to everyone reading, everyone who has let me know, and to all who have made this and me a favourite or an alert, much appreciated :D

This is Danny's chapter. Thank you very much to Sally Jetson for reading some of this, and assuring me on Danny's voice. Enjoy!

Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

Chapter 7: Remembered As An Outlaw

Danny:

"Gold in the hills, Mr Messer? You're gonna have to show us a little more proof before we go heading out on some wild goose chase."

Damn. Knew as soon as the words were outta my mouth that Taylor was gonna have a hard time swallowin' them. 'Gold in these here hills.' Yeah, nice line, Messer. What was I thinkin'? Could be the truth though, gold turns up in the strangest places; who'd ever have predicted that I'd find my own here, or that she'd think the same about me? Boy from the city, girl from the country, guess I think sometimes she'd do better with a better man, but she's made her choice. That's how it goes. Never regret the day my old flea-bitten mount plodded into town. He mighta' done though; didn't last much longer after that, ride over the hills 'bout finished him off. Miss the old guy though, he'd taken me a lot of distance, never complained, apart from the odd kick in the butt he handed out to me if I filled his saddlebags too full.

Yeah, remember it well, that day I rode into town. Maybe I coulda' handled my entrance with a little more style. Sorta' launched myself in there with about as much grace as an elk in rutting season, and didn't I know about it. Taught me a stiff lesson though, yes sir, don't ever say the wrong words to Miss Stella Bonasera. Guess I was lucky not to have gotten a bullet shot through me that night. Think she's forgiven me now. It's taken a coupla' years, but reckon she's warming to me. Taylor's gotten a pinch more respect for me now too. Seems I did good for him and Flack the time I helped 'em round up a bunch of steers that had broke loose and were threatening to trample their way down Main Street. Helped rope 'em all good and tight, and lead them back up to Sinclair's corral. Felt kinda proud of myself that day, used the rope tricks my brother taught me way back, never thought I'd get to use 'em here. Sinclair was mighty pleased too. Man's got fingers in all sorts of pies -hardware, cattle, and a spot o' poker now and again in the back rooms. Not that Taylor knows about that, or if he does, he ain't sayin'. Better say a bit more to him myself, before he loses patience and disappears off to wherever he was headed. Good to see there don't seem to be no more talk o' hangin' Ross. Kid don't deserve that in a million years.

"I 'preciate you might need to have some kinda' proof, Sheriff, which is why I called out to you now. Like I said, the Doc, Hammerback and me have been doin a bit of careful study on these knives, and the scrap of paper. All evidence points to a map for treasure of some kind, up in the hills. I say we follow the map, boom, we find the treasure."

"You're gonna use explosives?" Gerrard looks like he's about to explode. Serve him right.

Explosives huh? Cool. "Could do. No reason why not. Happen to know Hammerback's got a store of TNT out back of his place…"

"Hammerback has dynamite?" Flack is not looking a well man. Been kinda' pale all day. Next thing he's gonna be telling me he ain't wanting the rib eye steak we got planned tonight. Even if it was served up to him by the angel in town he's got his baby blues on.

Taylor glares at me, "Why does Hammerback have TNT?"

"You don't wanna know." Bet he does.

"No I don't, but I'm gonna find out."

Crap. Shoulda' kept my mouth shut. Now everyone's gonna be wanting a stick. Especially Miss Stella. That dame's got dynamite in her soul, and a spark in her eye. No wonder Taylor looks at her the way he does. My Lindsay, she's dynamite too, in a different way though, more of a slow-burning fuse to her, intense. Takes a lot to rise her temper, but light the gunpowder, and stand way back. She'll blow you to pieces. Caught a glimpse of it the first time I laid eyes on her, and realised I couldn't take them off of her again. Now there's a woman to draw a poor, helpless city boy like me into trouble. There's a lot hidden away under all those petticoats. Not that she's let me see. Much.

Ahem, thinking on, she'd be mighty useful right about now, "Sheriff, maybe Linds… Miss Monroe might be able to offer us some assistance here. Happen to know she's real smart with words and such like. Not like myself. Reckon she'd be able to interpret this map more to your satisfaction."

Is that actually a twinkle from the steely-eyed Sheriff? Nah, Taylor don't twinkle. 'Cept maybe when a certain saloon owner breezes past his eyes.

"Maybe so, Mr Messer, maybe so. She might be just the person." That's another thing I ain't ever gotten used to: formality; Mr Messer, Daniel. Don't fit my style. Messer at a push, don't mind Flack or Doc Hawkes using that. But prefer Danny best of all. Like the way it sounds, especially from Lindsay's lips. It's my hope that I get to hear my name spoken aloud by her sometime in the not too distant future, in front of a chapel full of witnesses. Depends on her folks of course. Not quite sure what they'd make of me. I've no doubt, however, what my folks'd make of her. Nothing less than astonishment that I'd found myself such a woman.

"So, Sheriff, you, uh, want me to swing on over to the saloon and fetch her from Miss Stella's clutch… er, safe hands?"

Gotta face my fears sometimes. Ross pipes up for the first time though, "Want me to go Danny, Sheriff, Mr Flack? I'd be happy to."

Kid's got style, and restless legs. Hopping about all over the place like a mountain goat. Nerves still shaken, I reckon. Damn that bastard Gerrard. Reckon I'd like to land a fist on him for scarin' the kid half to death. He don't deserve nothin' like that. Can feel my fingers itchin' to…

"You do that, Mr Ross, and we'll postpone for the time being our original destination; these things seem to be linked up with each other. Be quick as you can, day's drawing on."

"Yes sir." He's half way 'cross the street before he's even finished the sentence. The rest of our little crowd mosey on over to Hammerback's. Least Gerrard's shut his trap for now, though there's a storm brewin' in his face. Someone's gonna be in for it real soon. Sure hope it ain't me.

"What've you got for us then, Hammerback?" Taylor examines the knife and the papers, "Seems Mr Messer's interpreted a treasure map?"

"He would seem to be right, Taylor." Nice to know Hammerback appreciates me, "See, here… and here. I believe these marks to be indications of a route up to the foothills of Mount Moran as you head across Snake river."

"That so? So what's a treasure map got to do with two dead men, one of 'em still missing and a quantity of stolen poison?"

The Doc clears his throat, "I actually have a theory on that, Sheriff, if you'd care to hear it?"

Hell, I'd like to hear it. The Doc's a clever man, probably the smartest dude in town, which is why he's the Doc, and I'm plain Danny.

"The thing is, I think we're looking at things the wrong way round, if you'll pardon me saying so, Sheriff. I believe this all started with the knives. It's my belief we're looking for a gang of men, associates, probably all former sailors given the scrimshaw on the knife handles. Possibly they found something of value, and for whatever reason, buried it in this location, handing out the knives and papers with the instructions, split up between them, to ensure no one person could dig it up without the others."

I gotta ask a question here, "Why bury it though, whatever it is? That don't make sense to me."

"Because it was ill gotten gains, not found, I believe." Hammerback's peering over his spectacles at me, "No honour amongst thieves. You obviously wouldn't remember Mr Messer, but a few years before your arrival, the town suffered a bank robbery. A large quantity of bullion and other valuables were stolen during a hold-up. Armed outlaws got away with quite a haul, nearly everyone in the town lost out that day. I believe this could be the same gang. It was never found, gang disappeared up into the hills, despite Taylor and Mr Flack chasing them for some considerable time. Isn't that right, Taylor?"

Never seen Taylor lookin' so damned annoyed, with himself. Gerrard's lookin' smug. Man, I'd love to land my fist in him right about now.

"It is Hammerback. One of my greatest regrets. They got away from me."

Whew, that's gotta have hurt. Guess he feels he still owes the town for that. He don't owe it nothin' far as I see it. Ain't the kind of man to realise that though.

"So," It's about time I added my thoughts in, "We got a gang, buried ill gotten gains, and a map, split however many ways. And the possibility that whoever's left alive from this gang is lookin' for the treasure; may not to be too far away, and might've killed two people already."

"You got it about right, Mr Messer." Taylor sighs.

Nice, real nice. Excitin' though. Sure beats the usual Saturday afternoon in town when the most drama's Mrs Wildman losing her false teeth in the water fountain, again.

No one quite knows what to say for a moment, which is the point the door swings open and Lindsay, closely followed by Adam and Miss Stella, enters.

"Dan… er, Mr Messer, Sheriff, Mr Flack. Heard you all wanted a little help from me? Be glad to do what I can. You've got a treasure map I hear?"

Miss Stella's got a smile on her face like a mountain lion who's just found dinner, "Treasure huntin' then, hey? Well, I'm game for that. Got a coupla' pickaxes down in the cellars should we be needing them."

Cellars? Pickaxes? Don't want to think no further down that road. Even Taylor's raised his eyebrows. "What?" She protests, "Gotta be prepared for all scenarios. Ain't that right, Mr Messer?" Jeez, I wish she wouldn't do that. There's a part of me that'd rather face a real mountain lion than head down into a dark cellar at her mercy.

"Need to find the location first, Stell. Then we can go dig it up, with whatever happens to be at hand. Dynamite or pickaxes." First sentence we've had outta Flack for a while. Man still looks sick. Guessing he ain't managed to have lunch yet.

Miss Stella looks kinda disappointed, and goes to look over the Sheriff's shoulder at what Lindsay's doing. She's biting her lip, concentratin'. Seen her do that when she's at her stichin'. Works real careful. Like how she looks when she does that. Real neat fingers she has too when she's workin', same as now, she's turning over the knives and papers as gentle as if they were eggshells. Everyone's kind of waiting for her, and I can see a bit of a blush in her cheeks as she straightens up.

"Well, I ain't entirely certain all of you, but I'm certain enough. I think this is a treasure map, but it sure don't lead up to the hills." Miss Stella now looks disappointed for sure. Bet she had hopes of riding on up there and blowin' stuff up. Same as I had.

"Where does it lead?" I gotta know, suspense is killing me. Lindsay looks around and gives me a smile, "Well, er, Mr Messer. Seems like it leads right over to the saloon."

That silences Miss Stella. Only for a moment though. She grabs a hold of Taylor's arm, "Mac! I got a whole network of tunnels and rooms under there! Some of 'em I ain't even been in for years. Could be anything down there." Her hand flies to her mouth, "Could have been stuff down there for years and I never knew. We gotta get over there!"

Before anyone can stop her, she's pulled Taylor along in her wake, and the rest of us ain't got no choice other than to follow. Lindsay's one of the first, seems like this has caught a hold of her imagination.

Miss Stella calls back over her shoulder, "Hammerback! Bring along some of that dynamite you got hiding out in your lean-to."

How the hell did she know about that? She's across the street now, still holding onto Taylor. Flack, Ross and Lindsay following close behind, Gerrard and the Doc too. But as I'm about to run after 'em all, Hammerback seizes a hold of my arm, "Need your help, Mr Messer, can't lift those boxes myself."

Damn dynamite. I'm cursin' whoever invented it. Still, it don't take us long, and we're soon staggering across the street under the weight of two crates of TNT. Probably enough here to blow the whole damn town up.

But there's no sign of a soul as we push the doors to the saloon open; bar's empty, and there ain't a sound.

"Miss Monroe? Sheriff? Miss Stella? Anyone here?"

No answer. Hammerback's lookin' as nervous as I feel. Somethin' don't feel right. The both of us set down the crates onto the table that seems the strongest, and we begin to creep over to the door that leads down to the cellars. Both of us with a gun tight in our fists. No sound, just the saloon doors creakin' on their hinges. Shoulda' brought a drop of oil. Wrong time for that thought. Hell, this ain't good. I beckon Hammerback over, and we set foot on the first step. I lift my foot, and freeze as gunshots sound from below. More gunshots, and a scream. Lindsay. Everyone. Hell. We run faster than jack rabbits down those steps into the darkness.

Sorry! It had been a whole chapter since my last cliff-hanger ; ) Hope you liked this chapter, please review! I've also just put a one-shot, 'Ships', up too. Lily x