Saiyuki fic: Hungry Jess part 3 (original) (raw)

Due to Circumstances, this fic will henceforth update on Thursdays.

Hmm, rated maybe a PG or PG-13 for Sally's foul mouth.

With thanks to karose for nick of time beta karate chop action.

Back to: Part the First | Part the Second

The Legend of Hungry Jess Thimbleton

~and Other Tall Tales~

Personages:

Goku ~as~ Hungry Jess Thimbleton, a fearless pioneer whose luck, strength and appetite are known throughout the territories.

Sanzo ~as~ Deadeye Sally MacGruder, sharpest shot west of the Mississip’. The only thing quicker than her revolvers is her foul temper.

Gojyo ~as~ Chief Iron Rod aka Clarence DuFay. A lecherous mulatto bandit from Louisianne, infamous for his dashing good looks, trademark war bonnet and fancy riding. Known kidnapper, drunkard and ravisher of women everywhere.

Hakkai ~as~ William P. Quincy, a demure school teacher from Duxberry, Massachusetts, who moved West with his sister and her new husband.

and

Nataku ~as~ Jenner Birch, Jess’s Rival.

Hakuryuu ~as~ White Lightning, a Faithful Steed.

Kougaiji ~as~ Wyatt the Red, Gentleman Bandit.

Dokugakuji, Yaone and Lirin ~as~ Dolly, Nancy and Lacy Varley, Wyatt’s Gang

Homura ~as~ Mr. Grover Teasdale, Son of a Railroad Tycoon.

Zenon and Shien ~as~ Cormac Finn and Yu Yun, Teasdale’s Henchmen.

Rinrei ~as~ Miss Catalina Barnes of the Savannah Barnes, a Lady.

also featuring

Hazel ~as~ Sheriff Eustace Brewer, an agent of Love and/or Justice.

Gato ~as~ A Giant.

Koumyou ~as~ Eveline MacGruder, Matron of the Crystal Peak Sanitarium.

and

Nii ~as~ Dr. Vernon Borowitz (alias), a Quack.

~Part the Third~
Three Suitors for Sally MacGruder

Sally MacGruder hated saloons. It was too bad, really, that she loved whiskey so much. And that the combination - of saloons and whiskey, that is - tended to do unsavory things to her disposition. The only thing in the territories more talked about than Deadeye Sally McGruder’s beauty was her uncanny speed and accuracy with a revolver. The only thing more feared than her revolvers was her infamous temper. If the other patrons of the bar had known just who was sulking - not that Deadeye Sally ever sulked, mind you - among them, the place would have been considerably quieter.

The Maiden’s Legs was a dive populated by only the cheapest booze, tawdriest madams and filthiest lowlifes. Sally thought that made it marginally more tolerable, but only marginally. She scowled at the sawdust-covered floor and swigged her rye-and-water. She should have gone to Dodge after all. Wichita was chock full of crazies. Problem was she couldn’t take the trains anymore. Not with that-

“Well, well,” smirked a tall man, leaning over her, pinning her between her table and the corner at her back. “Fancy finding such beauty as yours in such… surroundings.”

He was dressed in a cheap knockoff of a fashionable suit, string tie and long duster tooled with ridiculous flames. His dark hair practically dripped pomade; looking at it made Sally’s eyes want to water.

“Goddamn it, how many times do I have to shoot you before you take a hint?” she growled.

“A lovely thing like you deserves better than-” he plucked her glass from her fingers, sniffed delicately and placed it back on the table with an air of distaste, “this. You must allow me to-”

“Excuse me,” someone asked, his polite enunciation warring with a gravelly viciousness for control of his tone.

“treat you to dinner on one of my luxury cars,” the asshole propositioning her continued. “I have an exquisite chardonnay I’ve just received from-“

“Excuse me,” the annoyed voice said again, accompanied by tan fingers on the asshole’s shoulder. His duster flared out as he turned, then settled, affording Sally a view of the newcomer.

“Goddamnit, Wyatt,” Sally muttered, running her hand over her face.

The red-haired man tipped his hat to her.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Sally,” he smiled. Two of his companions glared venomously at her, while the third distracted an enormous, scarred brute and filched his beer.

“Can I help you?” Asshole asked, coldly.

“Sir, I don’t believe the Lady enjoys your company,” Wyatt said, looking pointedly at the three black-edged bullet holes perforating the tails of Asshole’s duster.

“I don’t believe I enjoy your company, either,” Sally spat. One of his companions snorted.

“And who, exactly, are you to chastise a stranger for talking to his woman?”

His- That intolerable bastard. Sally grit her teeth and palmed Mathilda, wrapping her fingers around the revolver’s butt caressingly. She hadn’t trusted men since her mother was seduced by that creepy carpetbagger- the pair of them had left her in the lurch, and now were probably traveling around selling Peruvian Iron Syrup and Dr. Borowitz’s Liver Physic. Situations like this only hammered the point home harder.

“A Gentleman would aid a Lady rather than distressing her,” Wyatt was saying. Sally would have rolled her eyes, if she weren’t busy narrowing them in utter fury.

“A Gentleman?” Asshole tittered, eying Wyatt’s road-worn chaps and dusty bandanna, “I hardly think you even-“

Wyatt went for the six-shooter holstered at his side. Two shots rang out, followed by a protracted spell of scrambling, banging and confused shouts. Then, silence descended on the bar like a heavy cloud. Sally twirled her pistols absently, looking down at the crumpled forms of her adversaries with grim satisfaction.

“What seems to be the problem here, folks?” someone asked, kindly, mildly, just before Sally reflexively shot the wide-brimmed black hat right off his head. The man blinked twice, took in the bar’s patrons crouching behind their hastily upended tables and the two men bleeding on the floor. He picked up his hat, brushed the dust off it and inspected the pair of neat holes in the crown.

Sally casually slid her revolvers back into their holsters.

The man looked her calmly in the eye. The dim light coming through the door gleamed on his platinum hair, his white, straight teeth, and the tin star affixed to his jacket. His kind blue eyes crinkled with his smile.

Sally stared.

Was he sparkling?

A looming shadow eclipsed the door as an enormous man clad in a fringed jacket and leggings stooped to enter.

Sally didn’t notice, far too engaged with the warm, manicured hand now caressing her own gun-oil scented palm.

“Sheriff Eustace Brewer at your service, Ma’am,” he said, holding his odd hat over his heart and brushing her rough knuckles with his lips, “I must commend you. You’ve rid our town of a notorious bandit- one Wyatt the Red.”

“I-“ she started, but lost her voice when he smiled into her eyes again. The pint of gutrot already in her system reasserted itself. Forcefully.

“In addition to the cash reward, I would be most pleased to grant you the position of Deputy, and,” he beamed, sparkles intensifying, “Invite you to dine with me at my home this evening.”

Sally’s eyes flew wide and she tried to jerk her hand from the Sheriff’s grasp. “No such luck, pervert,” she growled. “And I’m sure you look forward to working closely but I’m afraid I’ll just be taking that cash and-“

At this point, Sally found her arm twisted up behind her back. Her off hand was captured between long, warm fingers just short of her pistol.

“In that case,” Sheriff Eustace Brewer said, sorrow decorating his tone, “I’m afraid I’ll have to place you under arrest for the unprovoked shooting of Mr. Grover Teasdale - one of our county’s wealthiest citizens.”

The silent hulking man produced a pair of shackles. Sally produced a string of curses which stripped the peeling paper from the walls.

~Tune in next Thursday for Part the Fourth: Ma Varley’s Bail Bond Specials~