Hungry Jess side story (original) (raw)

This little side story to Hungry Jess is a birthday and thank-you present to new_kate. Thanks also to angstymcgoth for beta help! It fits between part the seventh and part the eighth and features Banri as Ms. Henrietta Reed.

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 featuring

Banri ~as~ Ms. Henrietta Reed, a highwaywomyn.

~Part the Seven-and-a-Halfth~
The Ballad of Chief Iron Rod

Clarence DuFay was born to be a pirate: a buccaneer with a heart of gold, raiding rich merchant vessels and passenger liners, spoiling adventurous female travelers for other men forever, then stealing off with their jewels and sailing into the misty sunrise. He dreamed of the sea while he carried water, re-shingled the crumbling old plantation house, and drove the little mule cart to town for salt pork, corn meal and rum. His mother worked for the lady of the house, and every morning Clarence would watch through the window as she brushed her mistress's silken hair and buttoned the hundred pearl buttons of her bodice. Mother was one of the only slaves who hadn't left the manor, and, weakening daily with a wracking cough she gradually let the chores and housework slip away from her, until the plantation fell into dust and disrepair. Late one night, she'd whispered to Clarence who his father was, stroked his shining black hair one last time, then slipped away, as if into sleep. A week later, he left the plantation's swampy grounds forever, stealing a skiff and poling his way through the bayous toward the distant sparkle of the city.

The alleys of New Orleans reeked of age and horsemuck, blood and black magic. Down by the docks, he lost his new boots and his carefully hoarded sock of coins, the scraps of his scant wages left over after all the medicines, doctors, the silver earrings he'd buried her with. By the time he chased down the boy who jumped him, his money had been handed off to some accomplice, irretrievable. He beat the tar out of the one he'd caught anyway, and when he was finished, she emerged from the shadows, smiling at him.

Henrietta Reed had a flask of whiskey to split in her room, she said. Later, she traced patterns on his bare chest and made him a proposal. Her last partner had just unexpectedly left the business, and she thought Clarence had potential. He, half-asleep and floating in a haze of lingering bliss, swore on his honor as a man, and was never allowed to forget it. The next day he'd found himself clinging to the roof of a moving train, punched out two guards and a would-be do-gooder, and been declared an all right kid.

Henrietta was the sun in his sky, the wind in his sails, the needle on his compass. She made his lever long enough to move the world. Together, there was no obstacle they couldn't overcome, no buyer that could weight their scales, no posse smart enough to run them in. The days flew by in flashes of sun-bright danger, golden nips of rum, sweating twists of sheet, dark clouds of opium dens.

On the morning of his eighteenth birthday Clarence DuFay woke up and found himself arrested for murder. Languishing in prison, his Henrietta burned in his mind's eye ever more brightly, even after it became obvious who had set him up. Standing on the gallows platform, as the first hard drops of rain began to fall, he pictured her as he'd last seen her: her ash-blond hair nearly transparent against her skin, her breasts pushed up high and proud in her corset as she straddled him. The wildness of the sky made him ache for her, ache for their life together.

Poor quality rope, some quick thinking on the part of his loyal steed and a well-timed lightning strike helped him escape, with the mayor's daughter tucked under his arm for insurance. She was a sweet girl, newly engaged, loyal and pure as a lily. It took him weeks to convince her to leave his side; she only consented to as part of an elaborate plan to elude their pursuers.

Alone and free, the prairies opened up before him: barren and untamed, possibility lurking in each stand of tall grass. He shed his old life and left it crumpled by the side of the road like an irreparably torn set of trousers blown from the rag-bag. That year, the legend of Chief Iron Rod was born.

*

"I see," William said, too brightly, as his pet pervert turned a simpering smile back toward the strumpet clinging to his side.

"It's been so long," she cooed, stroking Clarence's rough jaw with a tiny, pale hand, "I never even guessed the infamous Chief Iron Rod was you, Cleary, dear."

"But Clarence," William continued, the reins creaking in his fists. "I don't seem to recall putting tart on the grocery list."

Henrietta Reed darted a spiteful look at him from the corner of the eye not engaged in glistening innocently at the Chief. This was just the kind of stupidity Sally MacGruder had been bracing for all along. At least the kid was still asleep, his tousled head pillowed on the water barrel. She snorted smoke and went back to staring down the road from whence they came.

"You don't understand, Will, it'll be easy. The plan is totally foolproof..."

"The Teasdale's personal car is on this train; they only send that one for the filthy richest marks, and it's easy as pie to break in to. We just need..."

The sultry edge to her voice stank like sulfur, Sally decided. She didn't have the patience to wait for William to come to the end of his. Besides, he didn't have the finesse to keep the bloodstains to a minimum.

"Stop," Sally barked. Miraculously, they did. "I'm the leader of this gang, and I say we keep heading west."

"You heard Sally. Clarence, get in the wagon," William said, so cheerfully it set Sally's teeth on edge.

She ignored William's grateful glance and Clarence's whiny protest. That crooked little minx was suddenly touching her, stroking the suede of her skirt, toying with the fringe at her knee. Sally went rigid as a month-worn sock dipped in bee's wax.

"Hey, Sister," Henrietta oozed, glancing coquettishly up at Sally through her pallid lashes. "You know how it is, I can tell. Gotta have a front to get anywhere in this world. Good thing they're so stupid, right? Come on, you have two more. Just let me have mine back. 'Less you want to keep him for some other reason - believe me, I'd understand. I'll take one of the others, but-"

"We're leaving. Now. Drive," Sally ground out, fingers scrabbling across the wagon seat to tug at Will's shirt. Lightning danced a little in the wagon traces, but the wanton sidestepped his vicious kick.

"Cleary, dear," Henrietta murmured, suddenly sprawled across his bare chest again, "Remember that night in Baton Rouge?"

"Clarence," William said, warningly, then wound a hand into the Chief's long hair, and hauled his head forward, dislodging the interloper.

Henrietta Reed stared. Sally dropped her hold on William's shirt as if burned.

"Aww, man," Jess said, rubbing his eyes sleepily, chin perched on the side of the wagon, "Not again. Hey!" He poked William hard in the back. William ignored him. "Heeeey. They're going to catch up to us if you... Hey!"

Sally swore and jerked around, failing to notice the sudden collapse of the saloon's hitching post. Sure enough, a telltale dust cloud had appeared on the trail behind them, low, tan, and menacing.

"We are leaving. Right. Now."

Fortunately, by this time, Clarence was safely ensconced in William's lap. Sally plucked the reins from his fingers, taking care not to touch any of the planes of muscle they were wandering over. At the first touch of the reins, Lightning took the bit in his teeth and ran.

"Perverts!" Henrietta shrieked after them, shrill against the bright afternoon, "Degenerates! How could you, Clarence, after you had me?" She screamed when a well-placed shot grazed her hip, and dodged behind a water barrel, her bustle trailing lopsidedly.

Jess waved cheerfully at her, and clambered over the sprawl of said perverts into the seat beside Sally, taking care not to step on any errant limbs.

"What was that all about?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Nothing," Sally said, flatly, and slipped Lucille back into her holster. "Go back to sleep."

"'Kay," he shrugged. He slumped over sideways and started drooling on her shoulder. Sally rolled her eyes, and gave Lightning his head, steering them out of Cheyenne toward the glistening white-capped mountains of the West.

Ok, now it's really over and I mean it this time. I hope.