Chapter Text
The fire crackled as the man threw another log into the pit, looking around at the other men around him he shook his head. These were supposed to be hardened killers, cold eyed men who would do whatever it took to make money.
So why was it that each and everyone of them was shifting around anxiously, looking over their shoulder like death itself would be standing there.
They had just gotten out of the county, bags full of money from the bank they knocked over, they should be excited! But no, the dumb bastards had it in their mind they were being hunted, afraid of some local boogeyman.
“I’m telling you Jackson, they’re out here somewhere. We never should’ve robbed that bank, they were last seen ‘round these parts!” Whispered Nelson, he was a newer addition to the crew. They had picked him up in Dawson after Shawn caught a stray bullet to the neck. So far, Jackson was regretting his decision to take him in.
“Would you quit your whining! There ain’t no damn bounty hunters out here, and if there were it’s not like we haven’t dealt with ‘em before.” Jackson snapped, finally at his wits end.
All the small talk had stopped, the other three men looking at Jackson. He let out an annoyed breath and stood up, stomping around the modest campfire they had made earlier that night.
“Look you damn cowards, we have been riding for close to a week now! If there was a bounty after us don’t you think someone would’ve tried something by now? Not to mention, there’s four of us! We’re the razorbacks for Christ sake! How bout y’all start acting like it.” He snapped, his glare burning into the admonished men.
Nelson coughed awkwardly and looked up at Jackson, his eyes nervously scanning the horizon. “Boss, with all due respect, you don’t know Sawyer like-“ he was cut off as Jackson pulled out his revolver and pointed it at Nelson's head.
“You say one more goddamn word about that fuckin’ tall tale I swear to the lord I’m going to put a bullet where your brain should’ve been.” The man said coldly, staring down at Nelson who nodded quickly.
“Right, sorry boss.” He said quickly, holding his hands up in defense.
Holstering his pistol he turned to look at the rest of the gang and grimaced. “Get to bed, we’re leaving at daybreak.” He snapped, looking back to Nelson he smirked. “ ‘Cept you, you’re on the first watch.”
Nelson sighed but said nothing, grabbing the one rifle they had for whoever was on night watch. Muttering quietly to himself he snuffed down the campfire until it was mostly embers before moving around to the edge of camp, keeping a keen eye out on the horizon.
—————————————————————
Kneeling on the ridge to the south of the little camp was a singular figure, looking down into the camp through a pair of binoculars they let out a soft breath. “This one’s just too damned easy, why would they just set up camp in plain sight like that?” They muttered to themselves as they scanned around the camp, looking for someone in particular.
“There you are, Jackson Chapel, I’ve been looking for you.” They murmured with a sharp smile hidden behind their bandana. They couldn’t risk the bastard running away, so the rifle was out of the question for this one. With a slow breath they dropped the Binoculars into their satchel and slipped the buck knife out of their belt.
“Knife it is.” They practically purred, slipping down the crest of rocks silently. Crouching down they glided over the brush covered ground with a practiced ease. Slipping past the two men sleeping on their packs they moved up behind the night watch.
“I keep telling Boss, I know what I’m talking about. One of these days we’re gonna wake up dead cuz of that monster Sawyer, I just know it!” Nelson grumbled to himself, much to Sawyer's amusement.
Quickly closing the distance between the two of them they wrapped their hand around the man’s mouth as they slipped their knife in between his ribs, piercing his lung and heart with a single stab.
Nelson let out a choked, startled gasp, his eyes flicking around in a panic as he felt his killer lean over his shoulder. A scratchy voice whispering in his ear.
“I’m afraid you were right on the money there.” Sawyer whispered, holding the man upright as they watched the light fade from his panicked eyes. Making sure the man was dead they carefully laid the body down before moving onto the two sleeping men.
Quickly dispatching both of them with a quick and precise strike to the throat, Sawyer stood up and stretched. They had been crawling around like that for damn near a half hour now. Feeling a satisfying pop in their back they rolled their shoulders and moved over to the final man, still asleep.
After cleaning her knife off she sheathed it back in her belt before withdrawing her revolver. A sleek blued steel barrel leading into a mother of pearl handle with an etching of the Virgin Mary on it.
Reaching out they kicked the man’s foot hard, making him jerk awake with a snort. Snapping his head around in annoyance he froze when he looked up only to be met with the barrel of a 44. Caliber revolver.
“Jackson Chapel?” Sawyer asked, their voice raspy and low.
Jackson nodded, raising his hands up over his head as he stared up at the figure in front of him. They were dressed in a dark brown duster coat, a black bandana covered half their face and the shadows from their Stetson hid the rest, their dark brown hair was pulled into a tight braid. Only when the moon caught them did he see the cold blue eyes shining back at him.
Swallowing thickly he raised his voice, hoping to wake up his boys. “That’s me, now who the hell are you?” He asked forcefully, noting with worry that the figure in front of him didn’t waver when he raised his voice.
Sawyer let out a raspy chuckle and shook their head. “Oh don’t strain that voice of yours, all your boys are dead already, they ain’t coming to help.”
They said bluntly, never taking their eyes off the man.
Jackson could feel a cold sweat rolling down his neck as he stared up at them. Swallowing thickly he spoke. “So, you some bounty hunter or what?” His voice was shaky as the figure chuckled.
“Of sorts, I’m being paid to either bring you back or shoot you dead. So I guess that constitutes me claiming the bounty on your head,” they hummed, cocking the hammer back on their revolver, “I will say though, I get a bonus if I take you back for the gallows to do my dirty work for me. So if it’s all the same to you, come quietly.”
Jackson quickly shifted his eyes over to his left, where his belt was sitting, his gun resting in its holster right on top. He might be able to grab it quick enough to get a shot off-
His thoughts were cut off as a shot rang out right next to him, the dirt in front of his belt exploded in a cloud of detritus. Snapping his eyes back over to the figure he swallowed thickly.
“I’d rather not have to waste more bullets on you Jackson, so just come quietly. My next shot won’t be so kind.” They said firmly, cocking the hammer back on their revolver once more.
Jackson stared back at them before glaring hard at the gun. “Jackson Chapel ain’t no damn coward, if you want to take me in you may as well kill me.” He said sharply, hoping the bounty hunters' greed would win over.
Sawyer sighed softly in annoyance, before shrugging. “Alright.” They said plainly before pulling the trigger, their gun kicked off with a bang!
Jackson fell back against his bedroll, a new gaping wound in his forehead.
Now that they were alone, Sawyer tugged the bandana off their face, letting it rest against their neck.
“Fuckin bastard, there goes my damn bonus.” She snarled, stomping back into the main area of the camp she scrounged around through each man’s bag. After grabbing a few more bullets that would fit her gun, a bag of tobacco and a few strips of jerky she spotted the saddle bag hanging off the branch of an old decrepit tree. With a grin she walked over and flipped the pack open, staring back at her was a rather large stack of stamped bank notes.
“Well, looks like I might get my bonus after all.” She said with a satisfied hum, grabbing the saddle bag she slung it over her shoulder and made the walk back up to where she had left her horse and satchel.
Patting the side of her Appaloosa she threw the new saddle bag over its flanks and picked up her satchel.
Hopping up onto the saddle she pulled the reins to the left and guided the horse back towards town. “Now to go collect my pay and get out of this shithole.” Veronica muttered, slipping their bandana back into place.
—————————————————————
Little under a week later, Sawyer trotted their horse into the town of hayfield. As they rode their horse through main street they heard the soft muttering of the townspeople.
“That’s him, that’s sawyer!”
“Heard he was ex-military, left after the war.”
“I heard that he lived with the Cherokee, learned how to hunt from ‘em.”
Sawyer smirked beneath their Bandana, the rumors never ceased to amuse them.
As they rode up to the sheriff's office the man was already waiting outside with the owner of the bank.
The sheriff was a taller man, his skin tanned from the brutal sun overhead, a thick white mustache covered most of his upper lip as he frowned up at Sawyer.
“So, you’re back, I don’t see Jackson with you.” He said, arms crossed over his barrel chest. The meek bank owner adjusted his glasses nervously next to the man.
“Now sheriff, give the man some time to speak, he just got back to town.”
The sheriff rolled his eyes and Sawyer fought the urge to do the same. Reaching behind them, they grabbed the heavy saddle bag and held it out to the sheriff. “I had to shoot the dog, but I brought you back something more valuable”
The sheriff walked over and took the bag, flipping the top open he let out a low whistle.
Well, color me impressed Sawyer. You do good work.” He said, his tone far lighter than it had been when they had first arrived. Turning he handed the saddlebag over to the bank's owner. He sank with relief as he nodded happily up at Sawyer.
“Thank you sir, you just helped out this whole town. I know the sheriff promised you a reward for dealing with that snake, but I’d like to show you my thanks as well.”
The sheriff gave him a sideways look and frowned but said nothing, Sawyer smirked beneath their mask before nodding.
“That’s much appreciated sir,” They said before turning to look at the Sheriff, “now, sheriff pending our agreement I believe you owe me my payment.”
The sheriff nodded stiffly before moving back into the office, coming out a moment later he tossed a small bag to Sawyer. They caught the bag deftly and poured the coins out to count them. Five half eagles, not a bad payday.
“It’s all there, don’t go expecting me to pay the bonus. Seeing as Jackson is no longer with us.” The man said gruffly, making Sawyer flick their eyes up to meet the sheriffs.
“Won’t hear a word from me Sheriff, was my pleasure to put that scum in the dirt.” They said with a cold chuckle.
The sheriff grimaced and shook his head, muttering something about how bounty hunters were worse than vultures.
Stuffing the bag of coins into their satchel, Sawyer turned to look at the Bank's owner once more.
“So, mister,” Sawyer paused, waiting for the man to introduce himself.
“Oh! Malcom, Malcolm Holmes, it’s a pleasure to officially meet the Sawyer.” He said with an anxious chuckle.
Sawyer nodded, leaning down to shake the man’s hand. After they shook Sawyer leaned back up into the saddle.
“So, Mister Holmes, what sort of compensation did you have in mind? No offense intended but your town isn’t the most well off financially.”
Malcolm chuckled and adjusted his glasses as he nodded in agreement, “I won’t argue that with you sir, but I do happen to have some connections with the bigger cities around our fair little town. Perhaps I could send a telegram over to whichever one you’d be heading toward, provide a service for you on my behalf.”
Sawyer let out a thoughtful hum, it wasn’t money but that was a damn interesting payment. “You wouldn’t happen to know a gunsmith in Sherwood, would you?”
Malcolm’s face went pale at the mention of that city. Sherwood, a bustling trade city down south, its location made it a hub for commerce and travel, unfortunately that also made it a giant magnet for every dangerous and underhanded bastard this side of the Mississippi to try and ply their bloody trades at. Very few folks willingly went through Sherwood unless they planned on leaving the same day, and that was if they were brave or stupid enough to go without a group.
“W-what are you planning on doing down there sir? I mean no offense by this but that city is a cesspool of depravity and sin.”
Sawyer chuckled deeply, their raspy voice sending chills down the man’s spine. “That’s exactly why I’m headed there Mr.Holmes, where better to make my fortune then in the nest of vipers.”
The man shook his head, pulling a handkerchief from his vest pocket to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “You sir, are a braver man than I, I will send a correspondence to an associate of mine down in Sherwood. He will be told to expect your arrival.”
Spinning their horse around they tipped their hat toward the man. “Much obliged Mr. Holmes if we ever meet again I hope it’s under better circumstances.” With that they prodded their horse into a gallop and sped out of town, Malcolm waving after them.
“Godspeed to you sir!”
As Sawyer raced off in the distance, Malcom turned to see the sheriff speaking to one of his deputies. “Send a message to the marshal down by Sherwood, let him know Sawyer is coming.” The deputy nodded and ran off toward the telegraph station, leaving Malcolm frowning in confusion.
“Why are you alerting the Marshal sheriff? They aren’t a criminal as far as I can tell.”
The sheriff shook his head and looked over at the younger man, “son let me tell you something, I’ve seen plenty of men like that Sawyer and you know the one thing they all have in common?” He asked as he looked back at Sawyer's retreating form.
“What’s that Sheriff?” Malcolm asked, the nervous tick returning to his voice.
“Wherever they go, death is sure to follow.”
—————————————————————
The sound of the piano mixed with drunken laughter as the patrons of The Calluna celebrated for one reason or another. The main floor was awash with all sorts of characters, from high stake gamblers to scarred bounty hunters spending their well earned blood money.
Looking down at the cacophonous revelry from the second floor of the saloon was a young woman dressed in an elegant buttercream yellow dress, her thick blonde hair falling over her bare shoulders in ringlets. She smiled warmly at the sight of all the business they had been receiving as of late. With the new trade routes opening further into the west more and more folks were passing through Sherwood, and they were more than happy to take their money.
She was pulled from her thoughts as the sound of footsteps echoed behind her, turning as she watched as one of the bar girls walked up to her. She was a young woman with dark black hair that complimented her dusky skin well, she was dressed in the standard uniform for one of their employees; a tight bodice dress that fell just shy of immodest, white cotton mixed with a dark red corset. As the girl approached she dipped her head low in greeting.
“Sorry for bothering you at such a time Ms.McNamara, I just thought I should let you know that we got word that an interesting new client should be arriving in the next day or so.”
McNamara smiled softly and nodded, “you’re quite alright Maria, you wouldn’t have happened to catch the name of this client would you?”
Maria flushed and shook her head, looking up at the woman. “Apologies ma’am, I wasn’t able to get their name, there has been word spreading around by some of the men downstairs that they are a bounty hunter of some renown.”
McNamara tapped her chin lightly in thought, another bounty hunter hm? It wouldn’t be the first time they housed such a man, hell there were several getting drunk downstairs right now.
“Well then, I suppose we will just have to keep our eyes peeled for this mysterious stranger. Wouldn’t want him slipping by us now would we?” She said with a teasing lilt in her voice, making Maria smile.
“No Ms.McNamara, I’ll make sure the other girls keep their eyes out.”
McNamara smiled and patted the girl's cheek warmly, “good girl, now why don’t you head back down stairs, the other girls could use your help.”
Maria nodded quickly and dipped her head once more. “Of course Miss, I’ll leave you to your evening.” She said gently before slipping back down stairs.
McNamara watched her go for a moment before turning back to look at the crowd below, leaning on the railing she smiled widely. “Well, mystery man, I do hope you don’t disappoint.”
—————————————————————
Sawyer had just hit the outskirts of Sherwood when they were delayed by two men in sharp blue suits. Marshalls, why they were all the way out here was anyone’s guess. The law rarely went into Sherwood, they had little to no jurisdiction inside that roiling pit of blood and sin.
Sawyer let out a weary sigh as they watched one of the men wave them down, slowing their horse to a stop they let the two men ride up.
“Evening Marshals, what can I do for you?” They asked tiredly, not hiding the annoyance in their voice at being slowed down.
The marshals looked between each other before looking back at Sawyer. The taller man, a broad chested being with short cropped blonde hair and a clean shaved face, spoke first.
“Sawyer, what are you doing ‘round these parts? Last we heard you were riding north to the Nebraska territories.” It sounded like a normal question, but the true meaning was not lost on Sawyer. ‘Why are you back?’
Sawyer chuckled ruefully and shook their head, subconsciously they rubbed their left forearm. “Oh I was up there for a spell, I was visiting with an old friend of mine. Sadly, I don’t mix well with the cold so I decided to head back home.”
The shorter of the two Marshals scowled and trotted up next to his partner, he was a young man, looked fresh out of school.
“Cut the shit Sawyer, you know what we mean. What business do you have in a shithole like Sherwood? Not enough death for you already?”
Sawyer flicked their eyes over to the young man, tipping their hat back to look at him more clearly. “Marshal, you might want to rein in your ward over there. His mouth is cashing checks I’m afraid his ass can’t pay out.”
The young marshal's face grew red as he leaned forward. “The hell did you just say to me?”
The other marshal held his hand up, silencing the younger man. “Luke, simmer down,” he said firmly, not taking his eyes off Sawyer. “Look, Sawyer, we’re just here to make sure you’re not gonna start trouble. There’s enough out here as it is.”
Sawyer cocked a brow and smirked behind their bandana. “That so? And what, pray tell, are you going to do about it if I do?” They asked firmly, making both Marshals tense up.
“Watch it Sawyer, you may have made a name for yourself out here but not even you are above the law.” The lead Marshal said coldly.
Sawyer chuckled deeply, their raspy voice filling the air between them. “Funny thing about that Marshal,” they started, reaching into their duster and pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it over to the man.
The Marshal frowned and took the paper, unfolding he gave it a quick read through. It was a warrant of authority and protection, signed by the acting Governor of the territory.
As the Marshal looked up in shock, Sawyer continued speaking. “You see, a few years ago, I helped our dear Governor with a problem he had been having. So in return he gave me carte blanche when I enact my duties as a bounty hunter.”
The marshal stared at them blankly, a look of confusion passing through his eyes.
Sawyer rolled their eyes as they leaned over and plucked the paper out of the man’s hand, folding it back up and slipping it into the pocket of their duster once more.
“Carte blanche, it’s French for ‘I can do whatever the fuck I want. Now, if that’s all gentlemen, I have been riding for quite some time and would like to find a nice warm bed to plant my ass in for some time now.” With that they gave the men a short wave and rode past them.
The two men watched as Sawyer rode down the way into town, Luke looked over at his superior and scowled.
“Sir, what do we do?”
The elder man sighed, shaking his head. “Not a damn thing, this ain’t our mess. Now let’s head back to proper civilization.” He said sharply, spinning his horse around and riding in the opposite direction Sawyer. Luke turned to look back at Sawyer before swearing under his breath and following after the other Marshall.
Sawyer chuckled softly under their breath as they rode into town, the smell of gunpowder and liquor thick in the air. “It’s good to be home.”
They passed by several store fronts, not paying any mind to anyone as they rode by. The frenzied muttering returned as men and women realized who had just rode past.
Slowing to a stop they looked up at the massive three story building in front of them, The Calluna, most renowned saloon and hotel in all of Sherwood. Slipping off their horse and hitching her to the post outside they moved up the steps and pushed open the door.
Immediately they were awash in a sea of noise as music and drunken revelry burst from every corner of the bar. Stepping through the ocean of people they pushed their way up to the bar, where a pretty woman was serving drinks.
She had fiery red hair and freckles scattered over her pale skin, much of which was on display. Turning to look at them she smiled courteously and moved over.
“Evenin’ sir, what can I help you with?” They asked politely, their voice thick with an Irish accent. Reaching into their satchel, Sawyer pulled out two of the half eagle coins they had earned earlier that week and set them on the counter top.
“I need a room, preferably one with some decent privacy.” They said, pushing the coins closer to the woman.
The woman looked down at the coins with wide eyes, a whole ten dollars just for a room? Looking back up she gave Sawyer a brighter smile and nodded, swiping the coins off the counter quickly.
“With pleasure sir, I’ll have one of the girls show you to your room.” She said happily as she slid a wrought iron key over to them.
Sawyer picked up the key, seeing the small paper tag dangling from the loop at the bottom. Room 302, shaking their head, they looked up at the girl. “That won’t be necessary, miss, no need to trouble yourselves.” Before the girl could object Sawyer moved away from the counter and slipped upstairs, heading for the third floor.
As they stepped up to the final floor they paused as one of the working girls ran past, followed by the sound of a scuffle catching their ear.
“Let go of me!” A woman’s voice, full of anger.
“Aw come on missy, I paid good money for this room, the least you could do is offer me some complimentary service.” Leered a man, his words slurring at the edges.
Scowling Sawyer followed the sound down the hall, finding the altercation with ease.
An older man had a pretty asian girl pinned to the wall, practically devouring her with his eyes as he held her wrist tightly.
The woman glared up at the man, fear evident in her eyes. “I told you to get off me you drunk bastard!” She snapped furiously.
The man glared at her, squeezing the woman’s wrist hard enough to make her wince in pain. “You’re a mouthy bitch ain’t ya.” He growled, lifting his free hand to swing down at her he froze as he felt the barrel of a pistol press against the back of his head.
“Mister, I’m going to ask you politely to let this young woman go. If not, I'm going to have to paint the wall with what little brains you have.” Sawyer snarled, their voice cold and sharp.
The man stuttered in a panic, his grip loosening enough for the woman to pull herself free. She slipped past him and stood away from both men, a look of relief on her face.
The three of them stood there, locked in a tense moment when a new voice broke through the silence.
“Mr. Halloran, what have I told you about laying a hand on one of my girls.” All three of them turned to see who had arrived.
Maria stood nervously behind a tall woman dressed in a flowing red dress, her dark blonde hair pulled up in a stylish bun and her bright green eyes burning a hole into Halloran’s head.
Standing on either side of her were two massive men wearing dark red vests, each one wielding rather sizable billy clubs.
The Asian woman ran over quickly and stood behind the other girl, who stepped forward followed by the two men.
“I gave you ample warnings, but I see that words have no effect on men like you.” She said coldly, snapping her fingers the two men with her moved forward and grabbed Halloran by his arms.
“Kurt, Ram, would you be so kind as to show Mr. Halloran what happens to those who don’t follow the rules here at The Calluna?”
The men gave the woman a sharp nod, cruel smiles adorning their faces as they dragged the stuttering man down the steps.
As soon as he was out of sight the woman turned to look at Sawyer, a gentle smile on her face.
“I do apologize for that outburst sir, I do hope this hasn’t spoiled your stay he-“ she cut herself off as she got a better look at who she was speaking to. A genuine smile graced her lips as she stepped closer.
“Why, Mr. Sawyer, it has been quite some time since we last saw one another.” She said warmly, much to the shock of the other women standing nearby.
Sawyer holstered their pistol quickly, taking their hat off and pressing it to their chest they felt their pulse quicken as they looked into a pair of emerald eyes they hadn’t seen in years.
“Ms.Chandler, a pleasure to see you once again.”