Chapter 2

The sun was getting higher over the horizon, creeping into the quiet attic to illuminate the dancing dust particles in the air. Then the soft snoring sounds were suddenly interrupted by a loud sneeze caused by said dust.

It was the new sheriff, of course. He forgot to clean his new home last night and simply dropped into bed in his clothes, a bit drunk from the whiskey and exhausted from his travels and all the new information. At least it seemed Prince was going to understand him. He was quite a good company.

Sneezing again stopped him from falling back into sleep so he rather blew his nose and checked the time on his pocket watch.

"Fuck!" he sighed. He overslept, of course. Getting up he quickly changed into something fresher and nearly fell off the stairs in his hurry to find Sid. A note on his desk informed Jim that he went ahead to the saloon to meet up with that mentioned head hunter.

He found Prince tied out in front of the office, all ready to go. "Bless Sid," Jim murmured and managed to get up on the horse after a few tries. Like that it didn't take long for him to get there and find Sid sitting by the bar, a bottle of whiskey already in front of him.

"What can I gecha, Sheriff?" the bartender/owner of the place stepped to them. "I'm Brian Welch, but everyone calls me Head. Nice meeting ya. Everyone in town heard about your arrival."

 
Brian “Head” Welch

"Yeah. Nice meeting you too... Head," Jim sized up the man with a beard, long brown dreads, his blue eyes emphasized with some dark paint. "Name's Sheriff Jim Root. Do you have coffee? Lots of it?"

"Of course, Sheriff," and with that Head took off, leaving him and Sid alone. "Did I miss something? And should I be careful around this one too?" he whispered, hoping that Sid wasn't actually drunk just playing his role.

Sid was actually drunk already. But surprisingly aware of what was going on around him. 

Flashing a dazed smile he tipped his hat. "Mornin’ Mr. Jim Sheriff! Thought ya might need extra sleep. The man I've been telling ya about. The bounty hunter will arrive soon. He is the self-claimed man of the law, like all his kind. Good man. Kinda intimidating but good," Sid spoke on a normal volume and a light tone.

Then he sipped from his glass before leaning a bit closer and whispered. "Keep an eye out for Head. He is the Mayor's man. Making the waters stormy for fishing big time," he only said that then looked around spotting the arriving owner and a few saloon girls clearly wanting to get to know the new young pretty sheriff.

Jim drank in the information about the hunter and the bar owner like a dry sponge in a... well, dusty town in the middle of a desert. It seemed Sid was good enough still, but before the new sheriff could respond to him, he found a big mug of coffee in front of him and his lap full of a pretty lady, with two of her friends pressing against his arms from both sides.

"Oh my, the new Sheriff is much younger and prettier than the previous one, isn't it right, girls?" the blond on his lap exclaimed and giggled, the others doing the same while Jim's face turned beat red and he giggled nervously – and not too manly – in his embarrassment.

"Well... err... Thank you, ladies..." he stuttered, not really knowing how to remove the women without coming off rude. Other men would probably feel happy and aroused from that kind of attention, but Jim just felt awkward and nearly fell off the bar stool as he tried to gently push the lady off his lap.

"Why now, Mr. Sheriff? Don't you want your gun to be polished?" she winked at him and Jim literally jumped off the stool now that she touched him very inappropriately in his opinion.

"No, thank you. You're kind to offer, but I just want to enjoy my morning coffee."

Sid just giggled eying Jim very all-knowingly and shook his head. "Girls, please. Respect the man of the law. It's early and we are on duty and federal business," he said on a strict tone from which he earned killer glares from the women.

"All right, Deputy. But after all the hard work don't forget to come and have some fun too, Sheriff," the woman from Jim's lap chimed and pressed a lipstick stained kiss onto his face before leaving the two men of law alone again.

Jim took his handkerchief out of his pants' pocket to wipe the stain off his face more or less. His face was still red like a tomato and he cringed a bit with a lame little smile hearing the giggles of the girls now from further away.

"Thanks, man," he finally mumbled to the deputy and took a sip of the coffee, putting some money on the counter for it.

"No, no, Sheriff. This was on the house!" Brian shook his head as he was moving around behind the bar.

Jim tipped his hat at him then looked at the still grinning Sid. "What? As you said we're on duty..." he snorted, but from that look he started squirming on the stool onto which he sat back on earlier. He knew that look. Was part of the reason why he had to leave NYC.

"I have a good eye, remember? But not to worry, Mr. Jim Sheriff. My lips are sealed," Sid patted the forearm of the tall blushing man in a reassuring manner. "Prince liked you at once for having a similar soul. Yep. All clear now. Indians hold people like that sacred, ya know that? Closer to the spirit world. Me have no problem with any of that," Sid kept his voice very low then raised his glass at the Sheriff and drowned the rest of his whiskey.

"I feel like I've been repeating 'thanks' to you ever since I've got here," Jim giggled a bit, but his look was grateful. "But really... thanks," he said shortly, not wanting to go into details, especially not at a place where even the walls had ears. He just hoped that his reactions to the ladies didn't tip anyone else off.

Jim wondered for a moment as he looked at the drunk-ish deputy... Was he maybe raised by Indians that he knew so much about their customs? Or was this common knowledge in this town? Jim knew one for sure: he had to brush up his knowledge on these natives if he wanted to stay alive.

Laughing a bit on the irony of the gay sheriff having a gay horse, Jim was about to ask Sid of the Indian business when suddenly all conversations died down, making the saloon turn unusually quiet.

"What?" Jim turned around on his stool to look towards the door. There was a huge guy dressed in all black standing there, the double swing doors still moving behind him. "Wow... Wouldn't want to get on that guy's bad side. Don't tell me he's the one we've been waiting for..." he whispered to Sid, seeing how the icy blue eyes looked over each and every face until they stopped on Jim's, making the sheriff swallow hard.

"Yeeep. He is the one," Sid nodded. 

In the dead silence only the saloon girls’ exited giggles and whispers could be heard. Then slowly everyone went back to their drinks and conversations seeing that the head hunter found what he was there for – and it was not any of the town people. 

The wide muscular man walked to Jim and Sid in his heavy boots. Maybe even the floor creaked under his steps. His strict eyes and face was indeed very much intimidating as he sat beside Jim, tipping his black hat and offering a huge hand. "Mick Thomson. I believe we will have to work together from now on," the man murmured on a voice deep as the basement.

Jim cleared his throat and after tipping his hat too, he took the big hand. He had a firm handshake of his own, but Mick's kinda made his hand hurt.

"Yup. I've heard of your reputation," the sheriff hummed and smiled at Mick a bit nervous. "I've never met a head hunter before. How's making a living as one going?" he asked, his innocence and naivety clearly showing.

Mick did not reply at once. He just sat there, Head putting a glass of whiskey before him too but no moves. He just stared at the girly sheriff for a good two minutes then slowly rose one brow. "Living is good," he said drowning his drink.

Suddenly Jim felt uncomfortable and started sweating a bit as the air seemed to freeze around them. Did he say something wrong? It happened sometimes when he didn't think through what was coming out of his mouth.

"Ehm... that's good then..." Jim murmured in response, wisely swallowing down his "I guess" from the end of his sentence but the tone was still... not that manly. Fuck. He was never going to be the big though sheriff this town needed. Who was he kidding? Maybe that's why he was sent here by his bosses. As punishment or a death sentence for... what he was. They all knew well how no one wanted to come to this town to be the sheriff. And he wasn't given a choice so... here he was. Not quite what these people might have expected, but there was a fire in him that didn't let him give up.

"Yeah, I guess," Mick shrugged on a light tone. Knocking his knuckles at the counter, for which he got another drink. "You're very pretty and young indeed... Came from the east, I've heard... Nice... All fitting in nicely," he eyed Jim a bit more and gave the young man a naughty grin. Drinking his second and never removing the dangerously shining cold blue eyes from the sheriff, he hummed to himself more. 

Sid just giggled silently and let the big man have his fun. He knew all too well how much of a fun-loving nature Mick really had.

"What all is fitting and where?" Jim asked totally confused and puzzled from the cryptic words. Was everyone nuts in this town? Damn, he could've killed to finish his coffee back at home while playing his beloved banjo while he was left alone.

Stupid mood swings.

"You talk very mysteriously," Jim frowned, finally looking a bit less girly.

Mick made a smacking sound with his lips, winking at the sheriff. "Everything will be clear by tonight at your office, Sheriff. Now I have a very important appointment. Deputy!" he nodded farewell to them both and headed upstairs with his heavy echoing steps. 

"The Madam. Stacy... He is in love from head to toe with that lady. But would never admit it," Sid whispered to Jim.

Jim watched Mick walking up the stairs, the ladies by the railing stroking along his arms and back as he passed them. They all had some longing on their pretty faces, but knew that Mick was one of the Madam's few regulars, so they didn't stand in his way as he disappeared in the sinful belly of the second floor.

"Huh. Is he? That's good to know too. He seems like a good fella as you said," he whispered to Sid so only he could hear it. "Does he always talk so cryptic or is it just for me?" he raised a brow then downed the last of his coffee. "Anyways... are we done here? Is there somewhere else we should go today?" he asked Sid, wanting to spit the coffee grounds so badly but was worried he'd spit down his clothes.

"He likes to play," Sid chuckled and he meanwhile managed to get pretty wasted, almost consuming the entire bottle in front of him. "Nah, Mr. Jim Sheriff. No duty for now. Go and settle in more. I promised this beauty here to keep going," he clanked the bottle with a giggle.

Chuckling a bit, Jim stood up and adjusted his hat. "Very well. Just get back to the station... or wherever your home is in one piece," he patted Sid's shoulder then nodded towards Head and the room in general, ignoring the disappointed sounds of a few girls as he walked outside.

That morning the air was clear and there was no wind to make it heavy with dust. Although the uninterrupted sunshine promised a hot day. Maybe he should've left his longer jacket at the station, but on Prince's back it wasn't going to be a long trip until he could get into something more comfortable.

~~~

Once he was back in the saddle, he was thinking of how he'd have to finally clean his room upstairs and unpack, when he saw a cloud of dust in the distance. Riding towards the edge of the town, he stopped in front of his office, staying on his horse.

"What the hell?" he mumbled to himself as he strained his eyes to see better. It took only a few minutes to realize it was a panicked farmer driving his horse toward him.

"You're the new Sheriff??" he panted, looking all dirty and bloody from getting beaten up.

"Yes. What happened?!" Jim's eyes widened.

"Indians... at my farm. They attacked out of nowhere. Please! You have to help! My family is still hiding under the floor boards!" he grabbed Jim's arm with a pleading look while others ran to them shocked, some even scared.

"Of... of course!" Jim cleared his throat, looking at he farmer and the other people waiting for him to solve this problem. Damn Sid for getting drunk at a time like this! And damn Mick who was getting fucked at a time like this! "I'll go. Where's your farm?"

"Follow me," the farmer said turning his horse, looking at Jim to see if he was going to follow him. 

Seeing the new Sheriff jumping into fixing such an issue at once against the dreaded Indians made the town people start talking about what a brave young man Jim was. Some even was clapping at him as he followed the farmer out of town.

They were already half-way there when it occurred to Jim that maybe he should've brought his shotgun too, not just the one on his side. "How many are there?" he asked the farmer while they were riding fast on the dust road.

"Three. Just three, but I had to run to get some help. They took my gun," the farmer yelled to him then went silent.

Okay, with three maybe Jim can deal with, with the help of the farmer. They had to be clever about this. Some of his training kicked in while they neared the calm-looking farm the man owned.

That made Jim frown a bit, because he didn't see any movement or horses around. Were the Indians on foot? Were they already gone? Were they too late? Well, one way to find it out.

Stopping near the house, Jim got off Prince's back and reached for his gun. He always cringed a bit when he had to touch it. Well, he was fond of music and instruments, not machines that could take lives.

"Stay here. I'll take a careful look around," he told the farmer, who just nodded and let Jim sneak closer to check the house.

The farmer just simply ran behind the well and peeked at Jim getting closer to the house. 

From the nearby stable two men snuck out. They had scarves in front of their faces but even so it was clear that they were the same two rough men who were Davis' bodyguards. 

Seeing them corner the Sheriff, the hiding farmer quickly pulled Prince away with him. Not wanting the horse to make any sounds or signal to the young man.

Not sensing the danger yet, Jim was focused on the quiet house, deciding to get inside through the back door, just in case. His heart was beating in his throat and was cursing inwardly for agreeing to take this job. He was so stupid to come alone. What if they are gonna kill or scalp him? Damn, his hair was nice. They'd probably want a trophy of that...

Lightly snorting from the stupid thought, he sneaked closer. He was nearly there when he heard a stone behind him. As if someone stepped on it. Jim was about to swirl around to look when suddenly a sharp pain at the back of his head made him black out instantly.

His attackers kicked his side too to make sure he was out of it then laughing one put him on the back of his horse then they got on too. "Your wife and daughter will end up in the saloon if you ever tell about this to anyone. Understood?" one of the men, who was usually called Munky told the farmer while the one called Fieldy reached for the bridle of the white horse, but Prince wasn't going to have any of it.

He neighed and tore himself out of the hands of these bad men to run off like a white lightning to search for some help.

"Leave that stupid horse. We have other work to do," Munky said behind his mask then they rode out further into the desert to dump the sheriff's body. The hungry animals would take care of the rest.

~~~ 

The next morning found Corey and his guard and his warrior trainee on patrol again. The young man kept looking up while showing the tracks and other important things to young Jay. Corey could feel the change in the air again. This time not in the wind, but the spirits told him about this area and time... Only time will tell, he thought turning his patched horse. 

"Coyote! Look, a horse from the town," V-man pointed towards the dust cloud from where Prince was dashing towards them.

Jay, the warrior trainee got on high alert too and he led his brown horse a bit closer to Corey's, scanning their surroundings in case that horse was followed or if it wanted to attack.

The beautiful white stallion – as if knowing where to go – headed right towards the trio, his energies restless and spirit desperate to draw the Indians and their horses’ attention to take help to his new owner.

Prince slowed down a bit and neighed excited as he got closer to the group, sensing that they meant no danger to him. He headed right towards the shaman in the middle and bowed his head, huffing and taking deep breaths as he sniffed towards the red one, constantly making noises as if telling them what was going on.

"What's his deal?" Jay looked at the other two, but expected an answer more from Coyote.

"He wants to lead us somewhere. Need help. His owner," Coyote said nodding to the others and led his own brown and white horse around Prince towards the direction the stallion came from, like telling him to lead the way. 

Their guard followed the Shaman boy and now as two of them did the same 'go ahead' gesture, Prince huffed deeply a few times and pounced into that direction, galloping ahead. The three Indians right at his back. 

Somewhat following the Indian border, but leading more into the forest above the prairie the white horse slowed down and sniffed around as he was trying to find something. 

Holding his right fist up Corey halted his men. He jumped off his horse to be able to look around more carefully. He felt that the horse needed help. But even the man he wanted the help for could be part of a trap. 

Making a small sound from his throat, like a low grunt, he reached for his tomahawk and from the signal the other two did the same, following Prince on foot.

The white horse kept sniffing and trying to let his instincts and the spirits lead him deeper among the trees.

"Fresh hoof prints," Jay informed the others as he was going a bit further to the side, finding some lead. "Two horses... Three men? For some reason that horse was heavier than the other. There are deeper hoof prints from that horse," Jay thought out loud.

"It's a possibility," V-man grunted, but kept an eye on their surroundings. "There are vultures starting to circle around something not far ahead," he added.

Then the white horse disappeared behind a ridge and they could soon hear its triumphant but urging neighing.

"He found it," Corey said and they started running towards the white horse. 

Soon they found a man lying in one of the ditches. Prince was huffing and stomping around exited.

"They dumped him here to be eaten by the coyotes and vultures," the fair-skinned man said, quickly making sense of it all. 

Looking at the other two he walked closer to check on the man. The other two kept looking around behind his back. 

The man was tall and had long light-brown hair and was dropped onto his belly. Corey kneeled down to check if he was alive, talking some soothing words to the horse in English like he had done well and such to calm the animal. 

The man seemed to be alive. At least he had a pulse on his neck... Corey turned him around and tucked the long hair out of his face. And his breath hitched… The shiny star on his long coat told him it was the new sheriff. And that already gave ideas about what really could have happened and thanks to whom... But also, he was beautiful to Corey's eyes and his heart beat sped up as he called the others over to help him take the young sheriff back to their village.

~~~

Jim came around slowly. He had no idea where he was or if he was still dreaming or not. Or why the hell did his head want to split in two. With a low groan he reached up to touch the back of it and felt a big bump there and some dried blood?

Was he hit? What the hell happened to him? As the inside of the Indian hut started to swirl when he tried to sit up, he stopped. "Wait a minute... Indian hut?!" he asked himself, fighting off the nausea as he sat up, hazel eyes wide and scared. (And he quickly checked his head again to make sure he still had his fabulous hair and scalp. He did, so he calmed down a bit from that at least.)

As he was contemplating if he was going to puke or not, he noticed a man standing by the door. That made Jim freeze up again, because the buff guy with the shaved and tattooed head and neck looked intimidating and tough. He was also dressed like the Iowan warriors.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck...." he mumbled to himself, contemplating if he should say something to him or pretend to be still knocked out. But his hesitation blew his plans as the guy noticed him. "Err... good day to you, sir... Thank you for helping me. I'd just... go on my way now..." he tried while pulling his neatly folded long jacket to his side. Of course he couldn't find his gun anywhere and he wasn't even sure if the man in the entrance understood a word he said.

V-man did understand him. But he was smarter than to give away that information to any white man the tribe haven’t made friends with. He stood into the entrance, barking a halt at Jim in his native language. Giggling inside from the way the tall "man of law and order" was scared of him. 

The hut was Corey's. And taking the sheriff there was a big thing. The Ioways, like others had common places and huts for the sick and the weak. They took only family inside the private huts. Jim was considered family already and the guard's duty was to not let the man out until the young shaman got back.

Jim froze for the third time from the loud yell. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! He was going to die there. Do Indians eat their enemy? Or was that cannibals he'd read about in some paper sometime in the past? He had no idea now that everything got even more messed up in his aching head. He was starting to panic.

He was held captive and was probably going to die. Not by the hand of some conspiracy, but by the Indians' hands. But he was so young (and pretty) to leave this world like this. He barely lived! 

He wasn't a religious person, but he started to prey to whatever might listen to his pleas for a miracle while all the blood ran out of his face and got covered in cold sweat.

The guardian couldn't remember the last time when he had this much fun. Probably back when he was a child. 

The tall man turned pale and started shaking and he just couldn't help himself. He stepped inside a little and making a savage face yelled at the man again on a deep voice. He swung his tomahawk in his hand and kept pointing back onto the bear skin, which was the bed, to go back there and stay put. 

The horrified man did so and as he sat down fainted. 

V-man had to check it twice. It was hilarious. He has to tell that to Jay. The sheriff won't go anywhere anyway... 

Corey came back from his father's hut to the wholehearted laughter and banter of his two men. It only took him a dead glare to quiet them down and make the guard report to him. 

With a sigh about how much he still has to teach to them, Corey hurried inside. And indeed found the young gorgeous sheriff unconscious and half-sitting on the sleeping place. 

He wetted a cloth and knelt down to the man. Slowly washing his sweat-covered face, he started calling him by his rank in English.

"Sheriff.... Sheriff..." That's what Jim heard echoing through the darkness. It was faint at first then it got louder and finally he surfaced, opening his confused hazel eyes just to meet a pair of intense blue ones. And he also saw white skin and red hair. And felt like falling for this guy on the spot. Damn, that hit on his nape was probably a hard one.

"Oh thank the Lord or whoever, you're a white man. I must have dreamt up the Indians..." Jim mumbled, obviously confused. Did he faint? It felt like that. What a disgrace. But it wasn't the first time his anxiety attack ended with that.

Corey raised a brow at him for that line. For once he agreed with V-man about this guy being funny... 

"Well…" Corey sat back with a sigh. Maybe from that the sheriff would look around a bit more... or notice his clothes... But to make sure, he opened his tunic and revealed a huge tattoo on his chest. The motive made the sun and the moon collide into one orbit. "My name is Corey, or Coyote. I am a half-breed. The Chief's son. And the second shaman of the Iowans," he added, on a matter of fact tone.

Jim watched mesmerized as the blond brow went up. The blond, nearly white eyelashes had the same effect on him. For a moment or two he was sooo lost in this man's beauty that he nearly missed what he was saying. Especially when he reached for his clothes (Indian clothes?) to reveal his chest.

Then Jim was just staring with his mouth slightly hanging open, his throbbing mind trying hard to comprehend what he was seeing and hearing. "You are one of Sid's friends too, huh? Tricking me as a joke. Ha-ha, it was a good one, I admit. Although the hit in the head was a bit too much. Dammit, my head's gonna split in two. And why are you so pretty? Not fair. Can't believe they found my exact type for this joke... Those bastards. I think I'm going to faint again..." Jim mumbled, not noticing that half of what he was saying was supposed to stay in his head. And with that he declined back on the bear skins and fell asleep right away, not caring about the probably surprised Indian kneeling there.

Next chapter

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