"A Storm in the West", Chapter Six
Title: A Storm in the West
Chapter: 6/13
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): implied Jun --> Sho, Sho --> Jun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, sexual situations, and potentially triggering consent issues.
Summary: A saloon owner with an enigmatic past, an idealistic sheriff, a remorseful shotgun messenger, and the town that unites them.
The sun on his face felt like rays of damnation, peeking over the red rock formations as if laughing at him.
Jun didn't let himself glance back over his shoulder. It was early still, and he knew what he'd see; Rapid Springs lit up by the rising sun, bathed in the warmth of another sweltering day. The rays would be glistening off the bell hung in the steeple of Pastor White's parish and the dust wouldn't yet be trampled after settling all night on the main drag. He'd see Ninomiya's saloon and gag on the guilt caught in his throat again, and then he'd see the sheriff's station and double-over. He didn't need to see those things to let the anguish eat him alive like worms in his belly; his body was doing that just fine on its own.
So he kept his gaze straight ahead, fingers tight on the reins of Aiba's horse. He hoped the deputy read the note he'd left on the table and didn't blame him- the blacksmith seemed good with letting go of grudges, but it was his mare Jun had taken off on, and he didn't quite know if theft fell into the same category, note of regret and explanation or not. But he couldn't stay in Rapid Springs any longer, not with everything on his shoulders. He'd rightly screwed the whole thing up all over again, just when he thought it couldn't get any worse.
And Nino's smirk followed him, even as his roan steed trotted over the dunes.
He should have stopped him. He should have said no- shoulda put a bullet between his eyes for even making such suggestions and insinuations. But Jun hadn't done any of it, and now he felt like retching onto the sands just to purge the guilt.
He swallowed hard, and kicked at the mare's sides; she sped into a loping canter, and his legs automatically kept the rhythm with each bound. He couldn't dwell on it- there were more important things at stake, no matter how bitter anguish tasted. He'd delayed too long in going to see Nagase to explain; he knew the odds of getting shot soon as his spurs dusted the property were high, but he had to atone. Had to do something, at least, to try to make it right. He couldn't bring the dead back to life, but he could give himself as one more body, should the ex-Confederate wish it.
Not like he had much else waiting for him. The sands would be better off stained red with his life.
He clicked his tongue again and spurred the horse into a gallop, sand flying up behind her hooves as he sped away from Rapid Springs as fast as his mount would let him.
--
"Sheriff, you seen Matsumoto?"
Nino didn't look up unpacking the crates, but he did turn his body so that he was facing the door to better pick up the conversation. Ohno seemed oblivious, rolling dough between his palms, arms covered in flour. The footsteps stopped outside the bakery doors- two of them, and the sheriff's hand still poised on the portal mid-entrance.
"What?" Sakurai asked. He sounded confused, and a bit squeaky.
"Nobody seen him all day. You cut his strings, then? Let him leave?"
A pause, and Nino ducked his head behind the dresser to hide his smile. Something had worked then, and that was more than he'd been able to say for awhile. Jun had skipped Rapid Springs of his own guilt-ridden accord, just as Nino had predicted. That just left the sheriff; the sheriff who was standing outside looking thunderstruck, visible beyond the still-broken panes of the shop windows.
"I- no, I didn't tell him to leave," Sho said, clearly rattled. "You check the forge?"
"Twice. Didn't check the house, though. You think he's still there?"
Ohno finally looked up, fingers paused over the dough. A shift and creak in the boards, as Sheriff Sakurai took a step backwards from the shop door.
"I'll check," he said, voice low, and Nino sprung into action; he wasn't going to miss the chance to see the end of this one, that was for sure. Ohno gave him an unreadable look as he crossed the shop and pushed the door open, nearly smacking Sho in the face on the swing away from the frame.
"I'll help you, sheriff," Nino said, with a nod to Thompson, who returned the gesture. "Maybe somethin' happened- never hurts to have back-up, right?"
From the set and grind to Sho's jaw, it was obvious he wanted to see Nino as far away from him as possible, but he couldn't voice it in front of other company; that would give far too much away. He just glared and took a deep breath, and the shiny star on his vest glistened in the sunlight.
"Fine," he hissed. "Let's go, then."
Feeling pleased, Nino followed Sakurai cross the dusty way and up the incline to Aiba's shop. It was still as death within the forge- odd not to hear the crackle of fire, or the panging of iron against iron as the deputy molded horseshoes over the flames. Wasn't even any stirring within the house, least not that was visible through the windows. Felt like a graveyard within the building, and it seemed to be shaking up the sheriff something awful.
Nino just pushed Aiba's front door open, motioning inside with a showy wave of his hand. "After you, sheriff."
Sho stepped through with his brow furrowed and lined, and Nino followed after him.
There was no one within the house, and the door to the bedroom was open wide- empty as well. Matsumoto had deserted early, then, to avoid being seen as he retreated from Rapid Springs like a kicked hound.
"Sure is hot in here," Nino commented, lightly. He didn't look over, but out of the corner of his vision, he could see the sheriff bristle.
"You know something 'bout this, Ninomiya?" Sho asked.
"Not a thing," Nino said honestly.
Even though the bedroom door was ajar and it was clearly unoccupied, Sho went to the doorway to look in, fingers splaying across the beam. He paused, almost like he was imagining something; his thoughts couldn't have been as good as what actually happened. Nino raised his hand to his mouth, disguising his expression a bit. Sho turned again, and glowered, but didn't say anything right away. Instead he moved back to the center of the room and put his hands on his hips. For all his bravado, he certainly looked lost.
There was a long moment when he seemed like he would voice something, and couldn't find the words.
"Not sayin' I could act as sheriff," Nino offered, examining his nails, "but if I were you, I might check that note over on the far chest."
From the way Sho started, it was obvious he hadn't noticed the paper. He moved to chest with purpose, snatching at the note. As he read, the lines on his forehead only deepened; Nino didn't know exactly what it said, but was obviously a good-bye memo of some kind, especially left for Aiba. Thanking the deputy for his hospitality, maybe.
After a long minute, the sheriff put the paper back down on the chest and stared at it.
"Took Aiba's horse," he mumbled.
"Thought maybe he'd take the bedsheets," Nino commented.
The sheriff turned around slowly, fingers clenched into fists at his sides. Even across the room Nino could see the labored rise and fall of his chest. He looked like he'd just run from the dunes beyond Doc's place to the corral past Ohno's shop several times; drained and weary, limbs sagging from exertion.
But if he wanted to say anything, it died on his tongue, and he just swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.
"Why did you think he was gonna stay, sheriff?" Nino asked. "Fight was over."
Sho just stared at him, and Nino shrugged with a wry grin.
"Guess there wasn't much else for him to stick around for," he continued, and sighed, flicking a bit of dust off his left sleeve. He watched it fall to the ground and fade among the grains of the boards. "Pity. Woulda liked to have a rematch."
He turned, to head back towards the door, and then paused, foot halfway 'cross the bound.
"Oh, I didn't mean with my shotgun," he added. A brief glance at Sho's face made him smile- the sheriff's features had gone pale, stark against the soot-covered wall behind him. Nino jammed his hands into his pockets and stepped back out into the sunlight. It was already hotter than hell. He breathed in, and then out, and whistled a tune as he left Sho standing in Aiba's living room.
------
He tied Aiba’s horse to a post at the town closest to Nagase’s ranch, but it was still a good three or four miles away. The last thing he needed was Aiba’s horse getting stolen. Jun paid a shopkeep with the money he’d earned from Nagase what felt like ages ago and set off on foot.
If Jun gave a damn about self-preservation, there were sneakier ways to get around to the man’s house. There was a rocky outcropping round back of the man’s house that would give him cover and allow him to avoid walking through the grazing fields. But Jun wasn’t in the mood for subterfuge, not when he needed to be honest and come clean. He walked right up the dirt trail out of town, following it west. A wooden sign marker with a big N crest on it marked the beginning of Nagase’s land soon enough.
He was on the man’s territory now. There was no turning back. Keeping his footsteps even, he continued up the path. His extensive grazing land was fenced off on either side, stretching out as far as Jun could see. There were cattle scattered there, a few hands off in the distance idling. He was totally visible, but none of the hands paid him any attention.
Which was rather strange, he thought. Maybe the man himself was waiting patiently on his porch to do the deed himself rather than having his hired help drag him over there. It was quiet, far too quiet as he continued his walk. His hand idled at his hip, feeling the butt of his revolver to make sure it was still there. Where was the big Nagase welcome? Where were the gunshots he’d expected?
All he heard was the cattle to his right and left and the sound of his own steps in the dirt. The big red barn was looming closer with the farm house beyond. Not a one of the hands in the fields had stopped his progress, and none of his other hired associates had popped out to surprise him once he got past the fields and closer to the house. Usually there were a dozen or more folks milling about, waiting for the man’s orders. Jun had been one of those men before.
He was unhindered all the way to the porch, looking around every few seconds, expecting to be ambushed. His boot hit the first step, creaking the board. Nothing. He made it past the porch swing to the front door. Nothing. Well, even a dead man walking could still have manners.
Jun knocked sharply on the screen door. “Mr. Nagase!”
No sound from inside the house.
He knocked three times. “Mr. Nagase. It’s Jun Matsumoto!”
Still nothing. His heart was starting to race. This had to be a trap. He walked around the porch, seeing no one within several hundred yards. The only folks around seemed to be the men in the fields. Maybe Nagase had sent his other crew off on a job? Well, he’d spent nearly two days getting here - he wasn’t leaving yet.
“Mr. Nagase?” he called out, opening the door and entering the man’s home. He could be shot on sight now, and nobody would say Nagase didn’t have the right. But he had to apologize, make his peace with the man. “Sir?”
He’d stayed in the man’s home before the job, and the living room was appointed sparsely. There was an oil painting of some place in Texas over the fireplace and the gleaming Confederate officer’s sword mounted proudly on the other wall.
He passed through the hall to the man’s study. Sunlight streamed through the windows, dust motes floating through the air. He hadn’t been in here before. There was a fine oak desk, probably to show the man’s affluence and respectability despite being a pretty obvious criminal. In between some bookshelves, Jun’s eye was drawn to a simple glass display case. Inside, he saw small trinkets - a few rings, buttons, and an oval locket with a simple flower design. Its silver chain gleamed in the sun. Were these Nagase’s spoils from the war?
Jun moved back into the hall, feeling nauseated. Where the hell was the man? “It’s Jun Matsumoto, sir! Are you home?”
The house was empty. He’d come at the wrong time. Or the right time, if continuing to live was something he desired. When he made it back to the porch, one of the hands was there, unarmed.
“Can I help you, sir?”
The kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen with big, earnest eyes. He probably had no idea his boss did more than raise cattle. “You know where Mr. Nagase is?”
He scratched his head. “Why, no sir I don’t. All I know’s he’ll be back in a day or two. Conducting business somewhere, I think.”
Jun had waited too long. Nagase wasn’t there, and if anything, he was out hiring a gun to take him down. Whatever business he was conducting probably wasn’t anything legal. He headed down the steps and back to the path for the long walk back to Aiba’s horse.
“Can I tell Mr. Nagase you called on him?”
He considered this. It would be more suspicious if he left without saying anything. If he was marked already, maybe Nagase would see his visit as some kind of atonement. “Tell him Matsumoto was here.”
The boy nodded, letting him pass unhindered. Any man was free now. He’d avoided the man who probably wished him dead. He could go anywhere. Any god forsaken place, territory, state. The whole country was open. But he remembered his promise, much as he was loathe to keep it. He’d told Sho he’d stay until Mendoza had fully backed down. Maybe he’d get back and all of them would be lying dead in the streets. The thought chilled him to his bones.
His destination again was Rapid Springs, and he was willingly walking through hellfire.
-------
The church was empty and dark, but Sho preferred it that way. For months now he’d come in at night. Praying for the town to put its trust in him, praying for the strength to do right by the people. It was his closest way to talk to God and ask for guidance, but he’d never before crept in here after nightfall to beg for forgiveness of this nature.
His hands were clasped and shaking as he sat in the last pew in the back, eyes watery as he stared at the cross up near the front. “Take these thoughts away, please, Lord, please.”
He didn’t know what else to do. His mind should have been on Mendoza and the town’s defense and the threat of retaliation. Instead, he was plagued with the man who’d run out on them, stealing a horse and abandoning them without a word. About the man whose scent was still in his other clothes, whose lips and touch Sho couldn’t forget. He knocked his head against his praying hands. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
Even in God’s house, he couldn’t drown it out. All the hints and insinuations Ninomiya had let fall from his lips, the words curling around Sho’s ears and seeping into his mind. Like the snake in the garden, wanting him to taste good and evil, the forbidden knowledge. Was it all lies? Was Ninomiya using Sho’s weakness for Jun intentionally? Or had they…had the two men who couldn’t stand the sight of one another…
He wiped his eyes and his snotty mouth, choking on a sob. “I can’t do this, Lord. Please, grant me the strength,” he whispered. “Please Lord Jesus, please.” The shoddy stained glass window beyond the cross offered no solace. The savior, holding a lamb, cradling it but not giving Sho the answers he wanted so desperately. He unlaced his fingers and placed his hands on the back of the pew in front of him, hauling himself to his feet.
He was pathetic in the sight of the Lord. The only good thing he’d done in days was protect the town, and he’d had to murder to do so. And every other waking moment was plagued with sin. The thought of never seeing Jun again, of never knowing if the man had been genuine or playing Sho like a fiddle. He’d never ever know.
Sho shuffled along, opening the big church door into the cool night. It’d be a full moon before too long. He was just going down the steps when he heard a voice talking quietly but animatedly in the churchyard beyond. He rubbed his clammy hands on his trousers and walked around the side of the church, seeing one of the big grave markers towards the back.
Ninomiya was sitting in the dirt, running his fingers along the smooth tombstone, chatting away. Aiba mentioned that Nino’s fiancée had been buried here - perhaps he was telling her about the town’s good for nothing Yankee sheriff. He should have kept moving, should have taken the long walk back to his own place. But a twig snapped underfoot, and the sharp Ninomiya looked up.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, turning to leave.
“Midnight confession, Sheriff?” That tone in his voice, that know-it-all tone. Ninomiya delighted in making one uncomfortable to the point where you wanted to kill him.
He leaned back against the church building. “I was praying for the town.”
“For the town?” Nino called back, getting to his feet and brushing off the back of his trousers. “You can pray for the town every Sunday with Pastor White and all the other folk. You needed a personal chat with God, Sheriff. You ain’t foolin’ me.”
Sho licked his lips. “I’m tryin’ not to let you rile me up, Ninomiya, on account of you visiting your woman’s grave."
The other man stepped away, came closer. “Visit’s done, Sheriff.” He came up until he was within spitting distance. “You praying for the Lord to tell you what happened ‘tween me and Matsumoto? You praying for a prophet’s wisdom, to see all and know all?”
The sheriff’s fingers balled up tight. “None of my business what you been up to in your free time.”
“Now now now, Sheriff. Now now.” He kept moving closer to Sho, his voice getting lower and more ominous. “You gonna lean against God’s house and tell a bold faced lie? You best head on back inside and pray some more. Pray that I don’t tell you what it feels like to have Jun begging you. Begging to fuck him.”
“You got a forked tongue like the devil himself!” Sho sputtered, launching himself at Nino. His fist connected with the other man’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Nino got to his hands and knees, laughing like a man gone crazy. The sheriff watched him take a dirty finger to the side of his mouth where Sho had split his lip, taking the blood and licking his finger. “You wanna know what it sounds like Sheriff? Sounds so low, so low. From way deep in his throat. ‘Please, Sho. Please, won’t you do it for me, please?’”
Sho kicked the man this time, barely controlling his rage. Pastor White was gone with the women and children and his house was the closest. Wasn’t going to wake up no one if he beat the daylights out of Ninomiya. “You shut your fucking mouth. Shut it!”
The other man was on his back, still laughing. “You think I didn’t hear you in there praying, Sheriff?” He spat out a mouthful of blood. “You think I didn’t hear you crying for Jesus to save you? ‘Jesus, help me…I want to lie with another man, Jesus, oh won’t you come help me? Won’t you forgive me?’”
His boot connected with Ninomiya’s ribs, making the man wheeze as he cackled. “Stop it!” Sho could barely see with the tears in his eyes and the fury bubbling within him. “Stop it!”
Nino was able to dodge the next one since Sho swung wide, and his leg ached. He stumbled back, pulling at his hair to keep from screaming. Why had God cursed him? Why was the Lord spitting at him, using this wretched man to taunt him? His back hit the church again, and he cried out wordlessly. Flashes in his mind. Of Jun’s hands, Jun’s tongue, Jun’s teeth. The way Jun moaned when their mouths had come together.
“Stop it!” he shouted, even though Nino hadn’t said anything this time. He shut his eyes tight, pounding his fists behind him against the church wall, hard enough that his hands would be purple come daylight.
He felt hands at his ankles. Ninomiya had crawled over, still laughing as he pulled himself up onto his knees. Sho tried shoving him back, but his strength and willpower was drained as the hitching sobs refused to dissipate. “Sheriff…”
“Don’t say no more.” Nino’s dirty, bloody hands were inching up his pant leg. “Don’t make me think of him. Just don’t make me think of him.”
He gasped as Nino yanked at his belt out of nowhere. There were no words as he watched the saloon owner make himself comfortable on his knees before him, hands perfectly steady as he undid the buckle and reached for the clasps that held his trousers closed. “You want to know, don’t you?” the other man teased. “Want to know what he’d do for you?”
“No,” he mumbled. “No, don’t…” He kept his eyes squeezed shut, the air disappearing from his lungs as the other man grabbed hold of him roughly. “What do you think you’re…”
“Shoulda heard the way he begged me. ‘Oh Sheriff. Sheriff, right there. I want you right there.’”
Sho felt like his legs were going to collapse under him as Ninomiya’s voice disappeared and his warm mouth closed around him. “No. Don’t please…” The weight of his sin was heavy, but the sensation between his legs was unfamiliar. Sho dug his fingers into the wall, unable to find anything to cling to as he cried out.
He knew Ninomiya was still bleeding from before and hurt bad, but there was no way to tell as he bobbed his head, taking Sho into his mouth over and over again, running his tongue up and down the length of him. “Stop, you gotta stop.”
His breathing was shallow, gulpfuls of air every few seconds as he kept his eyes shut and rode out the incredible sensations shuddering through his body. He remembered Jun’s hands on his vest, the way the man had roughly pulled him close in the darkened living room of Aiba’s house. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”
Ninomiya was touching his tongue to the very tip of him. “Don’t be calling for Jesus now. Call for him. Call for Jun, Sheriff. Let him know how you’re doing tonight.”
“Shut up shut up shut up,” he cried as the other man quickened his pace, taking him deeper in his throat. Sho remembered Jun’s hot mouth, and the man before him seemed to disappear and the gunman took his place. Sho gasped again. “No…no, Jun you can’t…oh fuck…”
“Say it.”
He put his fingers in the man’s hair, and he pretended it was longer. “Jun, please.”
“Say it.”
His knees were knocking together something awful. His mind was whirring, and he was going to come. Jun was giving him the best feeling of his whole damn life. It was Jun. It was Jun’s mouth. It was Jun. “Oh god, Jun…Jun I’m going to…please I…”
He felt the night air suddenly as Ninomiya backed away, crawling back in the dirt. “What’s that, Sheriff?”
He opened his eyes, aching at the loss of warmth and he nearly fainted. He tasted salt in his mouth. He’d been so close, and he could already feel himself spilling a little onto his pants. “You…why did you…”
“Why did I stop?” Ninomiya laughed. “You want to know why I stopped?” The man got to his feet, moving close enough that Sho could smell himself on the other man’s breath. He had to finish, he had to. This was cruel. Ninomiya pressed his hands to either side of Sho’s head, leaning forward to run his tongue along the sheriff’s earlobe. “Beg me to go back.”
He took himself in his own hand, eyes leaking and heart palpitating. “Just leave me, leave me alone.”
“Call me by his name again. Beg for it.”
His hand was sticky now as he tried to bring himself over the edge. “I won’t, I won’t do it.”
Ninomiya’s teeth bit down on his ear. “Come on. Tell Jun what you want.”
“No no no…”
The other man’s hands were roaming under his shirt, pinching his skin. And all he could think about were Matsumoto’s hands, his mouth. “Tell Jun. Go on, tell him.”
The sensations were overwhelming him, and it was like a shotgun blast right next to him as he finally came, messing up his pant leg and his hand. “Jun,” he whispered bitterly. “Jun, please…oh god, Jun.”
He slunk down the wall until he was sitting in the dirt, shaking uncontrollably. No amount of praying would ever erase this night. He knocked his head back against the church wall. “Damn you. God damn you.”
When he finally opened his eyes, he was in the churchyard. Completely alone.
-------
When the roan's hooves stopped just short of Aiba's forge, there was black smoke billowing from the fire inside. Jun stopped and dismounted, wrapping the reins around the hitching post just out front- there was a tightening in his belly, and he didn't know if it was good or bad that the deputy was back from Clearwater. His boots sank into the sandy soil as he approached the shop.
Aiba was banging on a stagecoach axle when Jun approached. He turned, wiping soot and sweat from his brow, and he was smiling; that was something, at least. Least the man wasn't fixin' to have Jun's head for stealing his mare.
"Morning, Matsumoto," he said, cheerfully, turning back to the red hot metal. "Was wonderin' when you were gonna stumble back into town."
"Ain't stumbling," Jun mumbled, taking his hat off and sitting down on the stacked cratest nearest him. "Limpin', more like."
"Well, at least you can still walk," Aiba told him, and he gave him an unreadable stare; sometimes Jun felt the deputy knew far more than he was willing to let on, others that the man couldn't be more oblivious. It was an odd line to toe, but Aiba was an oddity, specially 'round those parts. How he kept his disposition was a mystery Jun had not yet been able to solve.
He twirled his hat 'round his fingers a few times, lightly brushing across the bullet hole through the brim.
"Have you- talked to the sheriff?" he asked, after a long few minutes of silence between them with only Aiba's hammer pangs echoing through the building.
"Not really," Aiba said. He stuck the tongs holding the mechanical part back into the embers, twirling it until the metal turned red and bright. "Least not about you. Something happen?"
Jun kicked at pebbles, watching them skip across the dirt. "No. Just wondering."
"Think he came here trying to find you after you left."
There it was- the twisting in Jun's chest. He swallowed down the lump, and felt it move through his form. It was painful; throbbing, a little, in one of those long, hard aching type ways. Like his dreams of blood splattered across lacy petticoats were.
"He did?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.
"Heard from Ninomiya," Aiba replied. Jun's blood went cold- he'd spent hours trying to erase the memories of Nino's fingers curled around his length, and so far he hadn't managed to do anything but relive it several hundred times. He stared down at the dirt floor and tried to stifle the red starting up at the edges of his vision. Course the sheriff had been there with Nino- the saloon owner was everywhere, saw everything. There wasn't a damn opportunity that man would pass up if it meant further adding to the burden of guilt hanging on Jun's shoulders.
"He sound mad?" he mumbled, head in his hands. He hoped the blacksmith heard the words anyway.
"Dunno," came the answer. "But why don't you ask him yourself?"
Jun's head snapped up. "What?"
Aiba pointed, twisting his torso, finger leading out towards the dusty road where the sun was beating down against the dirt and sand.
"Comin' up here now. Guess you'll get your chance."
He had half a mind to run straight out in the other direction- maybe he could come up with some excuse, maybe not. Didn't even matter, he just desperately didn't want to be there. Sheriff Sakurai's boots slowed as his gaze swept over Jun's seated form. There was a hesitation there, and it spoke volumes; Jun had been stupid to come back. He'd been stupid to think there was anything there, and even dumber to think that the waters would wash away the memories of Nino's hands on him and the rhythm pull of his palms.
Jun sucked in a shaky breath, steeling himself.
"Morning, sheriff," Aiba called, when Sho got within range of the structure. Sho gave him a half-hearted hat tip and stopped near the far wall, as if he couldn't bring himself to go any further.
"Morning," he replied. A pause, and then he shuffled his feet. "Matsumoto."
"Sheriff," Jun responded in kind. There was another long period of quiet, and finally, Aiba seemed to notice something was wrong. His hammer stopped it's banging, and he gave Jun a purfunctory glance, then Sho. He didn't say anything- that was the nice thing about Aiba, he rarely stuck his nose in other people's business, but he did cease his work. It added to the collectively growing silence.
"You back, then?" Sho asked.
"I made a promise, didn't I?" Jun fired back, but it lacked bite, and it was obvious. He probably sounded ridiculous clinging to his oath in such a way. "Ain't done yet, not for sure."
He caught Sho's eye, but it was only for a moment, and then the sheriff ducked his head again, breaking the contact. The tightness in Jun's belly increased tenfold; the man was embarrassed, ready to bolt. Jun had spooked him so bad he could barely stand to be in the same room. The realization was just another knot clogging his throat that he had to choke down.
"I'll be off," he mumbled, throwing his hat back on his head. He just needed to get out, get away from the overbearing tension. He didn't even know where to go; Aiba's place was his one refuge in Rapid Springs. He settled on Ohno's- at least that way he was out of the sun. He got to his feet and dusted his palms off on his trousers.
Neither sheriff nor deputy stopped him.
--
If anything, Jun wanted to avoid Ninomiya more than he wanted to avoid the honorable sheriff, and from the looks of things, the saloon owner hadn't left his establishment all day. It was a surprising respite, giving Jun some time to think about what his next move was. He wanted to bury his fist in Nino's face, but he was still the outsider, and rash actions like that would get him kicked out even faster than the awkwardness would.
He did some odd jobs around Rapid Springs during the day to help clean up the mess Mendoza's gang had left- with Johnson six feet under, his windmill still needed repair before his widow and boys got back, so they'd fixed that up as an act of charity and remorse. Doc's place was still being put back together from the bullet that had nearly taken off half the stoop. And until the cart of glass came in, the windows in all the buildings were still broken. Rapid Springs might have won the battle, but she still looked like the loser in the brawl.
As the sun went down, Jun sat by the creekbed, back against the gnarled old tree just past the sloping dirt. He didn't much fancy going back to the blacksmith's yet, and the saloon was right out- so he let his boots sink into the sandy dirt by the dried bed and sighed. He just wanted to stay relatively out of sight.
Boards creaked up behind his position- the sheriff's station porch.
He didn't turn around. His breath had already caught in his throat, and just sitting there he felt like a thousand bullets were bearing down on him. The creaking didn't continue; a signal that the figure had stopped moving. Staring down at him, probably.
All it did was conjure up the memories of the night spent sleepless in Aiba's bed again, sticky residue of Nino's ministrations a far cry better than the turmoil that had plagued Jun's thoughts.
Then the creaking resumed, and the door opened and shut again with a snap, and Jun let out the breath he'd been holding. He glared down at the dust covering the toe of his boots like it was at fault for the mess he'd gotten himself into.
Furious with everything- but mostly himself- he pushed himself back to his feet. Maybe he could sneak into Aiba's place without having to talk to the other man; he had nothing against him, but his head was throbbing from guilt and shame, and the last thing Jun wanted to do was hold a conversation.
Luck was running against him. Sheriff Sakurai came out of his station just as Jun was passing by, dust flying up behind his heels.
"Why did you leave?" the sheriff called, and Jun stopped, cursing. His mind was telling him to go- ignore him, just go, just deal with the residual self-loathing on your own, but his feet didn't obey. He stopped.
"Well?" came the call when Jun didn't answer. He was almost passed the station- a few more feet, maybe, and he didn't know if Sho would follow him. Jun squeezed his eyes shut, fighing down the rising nausea.
"Ain't no reason," Jun replied. His tongue felt thick. "Had some business to attend to."
The half-truth tasted more bitter than a lie would have. He heard Sho's boots against the porch behind him.
"You just take off, without warning- you're s'posed to be brave, aren't you?" The sheriff sounded angry, but there was something else there- something raw that Jun couldn't identify. "You can't just leave when there's something you don't wanna face."
Jun barked out a laugh. "Can't I?"
"You just keep runnin' hoping that you'll be faster than what follows you," Sho hissed.
"What of it?" Jun asked, whirling. The blow to his pride was a stronger motivation than the shame he knew had to be pinking his cheeks. "You think you know me? You think my life has been like yours? You know nothing, sheriff."
He spat the title like it was a curse, and it worked. Sho reeled a bit, stricken.
"I came back cause I made you a promise, and I owe this town a debt," Jun continued. "And it has nothing to do with you."
"Do you know what you did?" Sho cried, and took several long strides to stand in front of Jun, looking like a cat in a thunderstorm, all alight and trembling and bristling at the same time. "Do you know what you did?"
Course he did. And it tasted like damnation that Jun swallowed back. But the sheriff was loosed, hollering like the devil, and suddenly it didn't seem like he was yelling at Jun anymore- seemed more like he was waging a war inside, where the gunslinger couldn't go.
"Do you know what you did?!" the sheriff repeated, and then his face started to crumple. 'Do you know what I did?"
The tension changed so fast Jun didn't have much time to catch up with it, and Sho sank down to his knees in the dirt, hands over his face. Suddenly, he didn't look like a high and mighty federal appointee who would wrestle for control over his jurisdiction- he looked like a lost kid who'd just killed his first game and was watching the blood pool on the ground by his own hand. His whole body was shaking.
"Do you know what I did?" he kept repeating, over and over until the words all blurred together with the tears Jun could hear in his tone, even if they were hidden behind his fingers.
"Sheriff," Jun said, and knelt down, putting his hands on the man's trembling shoulders. When he wasn't immediately pushed away, he let his fingers curl tighter.
"Oh God," Sho whispered.
"Sheriff," Jun tried again, and then breathed, "Sho."
They were in the street, still- the sun was falling and almost disappeared, but they weren't hidden from sight, and Jun didn't think the rest of Rapid Springs needed to see the sheriff in such a state. He hauled Sho to his feet, rougher than he would have liked just to make it quicker, and encountered little resistance. With a quick look to his left, checking for prying eyes, Jun practically pulled the sheriff into his station and back into the bedroom.
Sho just sat on the edge of the mattress, head still buried in his hands.
"What happened?" Jun asked, when the door was shut.
"Oh, God," Sho said, tone warbling. "God damn it. God damn him."
He was shaking again, like a leaf, and Jun sat down next to him so their shoulders were touching.
"God damn who?" he asked, even though he was relatively certain that he already knew. He couldn't tell if his own doubt was lessening or doubling- maybe it was his fault, in a roundabout way. Maybe his hasty departure had opened up the door. "Was- was it Ninomiya?"
"Oh, God." Seemed an affirmative, especially given the way the sheriff's body shook harder. It hurt all over, like he'd been punched in the gut and someone had stolen all of his air. Jun leaned in without thinking to lace his fingers with Sho's and tangle his other hand in the sheriff's hair, pulling him close. Wasn't nothing he could do that would take away the anguish; nothing he could do to shift the blame or make the wound close faster. He sighed against Sho's hair and buried his face in the strands.
"Sheriff," Jun whispered. "S'alright."
"No," Sho mumbled against his palms. "Ain't never gonna be alright."
"He played both of us," Jun told him, tightening his grip on the sheriff's fingers. "You hear me? He got us both, bad."
Either he was getting through, or the onslaught of guilt had tapered off; Sho's shoulders stopped shaking so bad.
"Sho," Jun breathed again, and pulled the man's hands away from his face.
"No," the sheriff whispered, but even as he said it he was leaning in- his lips tasted like salt, like the remnants of tears. It was heady being on his bed, alone, wrapped in the clean scent of soap once more, but Jun let the gesture stay as a chaste kiss. Pushin' the man would do far more harm than good, no matter how intoxicating the situation was. It was hard to pull back and break contact, but Jun did it, one hand firmly around the sheriff's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said, honestly.
"Don't really think it's your fault," Sho mumbled. "Not all of it, anyway."
"Maybe not," Jun acquiesced, rising to his feet. "But I'll shoulder it anyway."
Sho didn't seem to have a response for that, and he allowed himself to be pushed back against the pillow. Jun felt a swell of hatred for the saloon owner- how far would Nino go to make sure everyone was as damn miserable as him? How far did this push and pull have to continue? It was like watching bullets fly and hit the bystanders of a gunfight; the more the tumbleweed of blame rolled, the quicker its speed and the more bodies got hit by its brambles.
The sheriff was warm when Jun curled up behind him on the bed.
"You gonna run again?" Sho asked.
"Naw," Jun replied. "Maybe I'll stick around this time."
The other man laughed mirthlessly. "You're standing in quicksand here."
"Maybe," Jun sighed. And Sho still didn't push him away, or demand he leave. Jun let his face rest near the nape of the sheriff's neck, breathing in the scent of him- all ambition and bright ideals and naivete slowly draining like a dying man's life onto the dirt. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, he could staunch the flow.
Maybe he didn't have to let Sho bleed out alone.
With the sheriff's even, heavy breathing lulling him, Jun slept.
------
He took a swig of whiskey, sloshing it around in his mouth until he could feel the liquid between each tooth, letting it coat his tongue. Nino leaned forward, spitting over the porch rail. Even now, his mind was reminding him of the things he’d done the past few days out of anger and hate and the desire to see the town free of men he despised. But no amount of alcohol was going to cleanse his palate.
Because it seemed that despite his best efforts, his best machinations, the sheriff and Matsumoto weren’t going to run away. Jun had gone for a couple days, probably stewing and broody as he seemed wont to do, but no amount of yanking on his guilt or on his person had worked. He’d come back to Rapid Springs with his tail between his legs, and as far as Ninomiya knew, he’d spent the night at the sheriff’s place the day before.
Playing to Jun’s guilt or Sho’s faith or the two men’s strange infatuation with one another hadn’t sent them packing. They’d reconciled, Nino was sure of it, and he took another swig of his whiskey before dropping the cup on the wooden porch and letting it roll off into the dirt. He spat heavily on the planks before heading back inside. Appealing to the men’s baser natures had only stunned them briefly. He’d have to take another tack. If he felt like taking another tack.
He could move on. Leave his shitty saloon and the black-toothed whores and just set up shop somewhere else. Start over instead of rolling in the pig slop his life had turned into since she’d gone away. But it had taken every bit of him to leave St. Louis in the first place, cast away the comforts of home and family to make his way on his own. To do all that over would just end in disappointment again, wouldn’t it? And Rapid Springs was the home of the closest thing he had to a friend in the world. Running a saloon in San Francisco or back in El Paso would still be running a saloon, but there’d be no fresh baked bread waiting for him every other morning. No pats on the back or quiet words of encouragement. He’d lose that.
It had been a quiet day, he thought as he entered his room and shut the door, kicking off his boots. Around midday, Aiba had apparently gone back to Clearwater to bring Pastor White, the women and the children back to town since it had been a week already since Mendoza had attacked. Sakurai had been against it, saying there was no way of knowing whether the Sandburgs had drunk their fill of Rapid Springs’ misery yet. But the other men had been clamoring for their womenfolk, and the sheriff had had to allow it.
For his part, Nino had stayed inside his business all day, going through bottle after bottle. He chuckled as he had his shirt only half unbuttoned before flopping down on his mattress. The booze could numb him, but he was too accustomed to its taste to forget everything. “Fuck it all,” he mumbled, putting his hand over his eyes to block out the faint candle light in his bedroom.
The shocked faces Jun and Sho had made when he’d visited them in turn weren’t bringing him the satisfaction they had days earlier, knowing they were probably off licking their wounds or one another by now. He poked at his belt buckle, drunkenly fumbling with it. Nobody was coming to guilt him tonight. His sheets would only bear his own weight and sweat. He wasn’t drunk enough to mess with his own girls.
Maybe he could conjure her face in his mind’s eye, magic her soft lips and straw-colored hair. With each passing month she faded more and more until he was finding release based solely on what he thought she’d always looked like. He tugged at his trousers, legs getting caught, and he tried to think. The whiskey was rocking back and forth in his brain like a boat at sea, and he couldn’t concentrate.
“Come on,” he mumbled, running his hand along his length, trying to find his normal rhythm. “Come on, come on.” But he couldn’t conjure the curls and the gentle swell of her hips. All he saw was Jun, stunned. Sho, begging. The both of them, coerced into calling another man’s name by Nino’s insistence. Nobody called for him. He gave up, kicking the rail at the foot of his bed in frustration.
He tugged the covers up and over his half naked form, hoping he could sleep away the night. But soon enough there was hollering in the street, from the sound of it, Thompson. Pulling himself up out of bed, he trudged to the window and was going to lean out to cuss at the other man, but when he pushed the curtains aside he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed.
The one part of his heart, the tiny sliver that hadn’t yet turned black as pitch, ached. Orange and yellow and heat, and it was rising up with smoke from the dry goods store across the way. “No,” he muttered. “No, no it can’t be…"
He saw horses, men seated atop whooping and shouting as they tossed one last flaming torch through the front window of Ohno’s shop. Nino grabbed for his discarded pants, not bothering with shoes as he ran from his room. Mendoza was back. Mendoza was feeling far less than charitable, and he was hitting the town where it would hurt the most - the food supply. Ohno’s shop was the only place in five miles that regularly stocked the necessities.
Nino’s bare feet carried him out the swinging saloon doors and into the dirty street where Mendoza’s boys had already ridden off. He could only stand there, stock still in horror and disbelief. He hadn’t seen him all day. He’d been doing an inventory, hadn’t he? Was that what he’d said he was doing today? Why couldn’t he remember? Thompson was already running over with a bucket, and soon enough all the men along the street were running for the well.
Stumbling forward, the smoke clouding his eyes, he tried to make his way to the store front. “Satoshi!” he cried. “Satoshi, get out! Get out of there, you lazy sack of shit!”
He heard a shout. “Ninomiya, get back!” It was the sheriff, wearing pajamas that Nino would have mercilessly teased him for if he was at any other point in his life. “Watch out, I know he’s got gunpowder in there and if the flames get it…”
There was a horrific bang at the rear of the shop, sending all the men in the street diving for cover. He found himself on the ground, Matsumoto half-wrapped around him. He kicked at the other man. “You don’t get it, damn it! He’s a heavy sleeper, I have to get him out!” Nino screamed as Matsumoto struggled to keep a hold on him. “Satoshi!”
“Jun, get him back!” Sho was hollering, trying to coordinate the men with the water buckets.
He tried to bite at Jun, screaming until his voice was hoarse from it. “Let me go! We have to get him out!”
Matsumoto kept dragging him back towards the saloon and away from the burning building. “Don’t be stupid. If he didn’t get out when they threw the torch in, then he ain’t coming out. We gotta put the fire out, now help, alright?”
“Get the fuck off of me!” he shouted. “Satoshi! God damn it, Satoshi…”
Jun was pulling him under his arms, and he felt another set of hands taking him by his feet. He tried to kick, but the other man was holding him tight. He looked up to see Sho giving Jun a serious look. He struggled again. “Let go of me, you sonsabitches, let go! Satoshi needs help!”
“We’re putting him in the cell,” Sho was telling Jun, and the two of them were dragging him away from the fire, away from where Ohno was, and he was never going to be able to shout again, much less speak. Why weren’t they trying to save his friend? Why didn’t anyone go around back to where the baker had his bedroom?
They hauled him into the sheriff’s station and into the cell. “Wanna cuff him?” Jun asked darkly, and Nino hollered right in his face.
“Shut up, would ya?” Sho was saying, trying to get him laid down on the bed.
“I’m gonna kill Mendoza!” he heard someone vow, only realizing seconds later that it was his own voice, hoarse and low from the smoke and shouting. Sho and Jun exchanged a look. Nino tried to sit up, but Jun held him down. “Let me out of here, you motherfuckers! Let me out! I’m riding for Mendoza’s god forsaken cave right now! Let me go!”
Sho wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We need to go help. Do it.”
Nino heard Jun’s muttered apology before his fist knocked him unconscious.
Chapter: 6/13
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): implied Jun --> Sho, Sho --> Jun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, sexual situations, and potentially triggering consent issues.
Summary: A saloon owner with an enigmatic past, an idealistic sheriff, a remorseful shotgun messenger, and the town that unites them.
The sun on his face felt like rays of damnation, peeking over the red rock formations as if laughing at him.
Jun didn't let himself glance back over his shoulder. It was early still, and he knew what he'd see; Rapid Springs lit up by the rising sun, bathed in the warmth of another sweltering day. The rays would be glistening off the bell hung in the steeple of Pastor White's parish and the dust wouldn't yet be trampled after settling all night on the main drag. He'd see Ninomiya's saloon and gag on the guilt caught in his throat again, and then he'd see the sheriff's station and double-over. He didn't need to see those things to let the anguish eat him alive like worms in his belly; his body was doing that just fine on its own.
So he kept his gaze straight ahead, fingers tight on the reins of Aiba's horse. He hoped the deputy read the note he'd left on the table and didn't blame him- the blacksmith seemed good with letting go of grudges, but it was his mare Jun had taken off on, and he didn't quite know if theft fell into the same category, note of regret and explanation or not. But he couldn't stay in Rapid Springs any longer, not with everything on his shoulders. He'd rightly screwed the whole thing up all over again, just when he thought it couldn't get any worse.
And Nino's smirk followed him, even as his roan steed trotted over the dunes.
He should have stopped him. He should have said no- shoulda put a bullet between his eyes for even making such suggestions and insinuations. But Jun hadn't done any of it, and now he felt like retching onto the sands just to purge the guilt.
He swallowed hard, and kicked at the mare's sides; she sped into a loping canter, and his legs automatically kept the rhythm with each bound. He couldn't dwell on it- there were more important things at stake, no matter how bitter anguish tasted. He'd delayed too long in going to see Nagase to explain; he knew the odds of getting shot soon as his spurs dusted the property were high, but he had to atone. Had to do something, at least, to try to make it right. He couldn't bring the dead back to life, but he could give himself as one more body, should the ex-Confederate wish it.
Not like he had much else waiting for him. The sands would be better off stained red with his life.
He clicked his tongue again and spurred the horse into a gallop, sand flying up behind her hooves as he sped away from Rapid Springs as fast as his mount would let him.
--
"Sheriff, you seen Matsumoto?"
Nino didn't look up unpacking the crates, but he did turn his body so that he was facing the door to better pick up the conversation. Ohno seemed oblivious, rolling dough between his palms, arms covered in flour. The footsteps stopped outside the bakery doors- two of them, and the sheriff's hand still poised on the portal mid-entrance.
"What?" Sakurai asked. He sounded confused, and a bit squeaky.
"Nobody seen him all day. You cut his strings, then? Let him leave?"
A pause, and Nino ducked his head behind the dresser to hide his smile. Something had worked then, and that was more than he'd been able to say for awhile. Jun had skipped Rapid Springs of his own guilt-ridden accord, just as Nino had predicted. That just left the sheriff; the sheriff who was standing outside looking thunderstruck, visible beyond the still-broken panes of the shop windows.
"I- no, I didn't tell him to leave," Sho said, clearly rattled. "You check the forge?"
"Twice. Didn't check the house, though. You think he's still there?"
Ohno finally looked up, fingers paused over the dough. A shift and creak in the boards, as Sheriff Sakurai took a step backwards from the shop door.
"I'll check," he said, voice low, and Nino sprung into action; he wasn't going to miss the chance to see the end of this one, that was for sure. Ohno gave him an unreadable look as he crossed the shop and pushed the door open, nearly smacking Sho in the face on the swing away from the frame.
"I'll help you, sheriff," Nino said, with a nod to Thompson, who returned the gesture. "Maybe somethin' happened- never hurts to have back-up, right?"
From the set and grind to Sho's jaw, it was obvious he wanted to see Nino as far away from him as possible, but he couldn't voice it in front of other company; that would give far too much away. He just glared and took a deep breath, and the shiny star on his vest glistened in the sunlight.
"Fine," he hissed. "Let's go, then."
Feeling pleased, Nino followed Sakurai cross the dusty way and up the incline to Aiba's shop. It was still as death within the forge- odd not to hear the crackle of fire, or the panging of iron against iron as the deputy molded horseshoes over the flames. Wasn't even any stirring within the house, least not that was visible through the windows. Felt like a graveyard within the building, and it seemed to be shaking up the sheriff something awful.
Nino just pushed Aiba's front door open, motioning inside with a showy wave of his hand. "After you, sheriff."
Sho stepped through with his brow furrowed and lined, and Nino followed after him.
There was no one within the house, and the door to the bedroom was open wide- empty as well. Matsumoto had deserted early, then, to avoid being seen as he retreated from Rapid Springs like a kicked hound.
"Sure is hot in here," Nino commented, lightly. He didn't look over, but out of the corner of his vision, he could see the sheriff bristle.
"You know something 'bout this, Ninomiya?" Sho asked.
"Not a thing," Nino said honestly.
Even though the bedroom door was ajar and it was clearly unoccupied, Sho went to the doorway to look in, fingers splaying across the beam. He paused, almost like he was imagining something; his thoughts couldn't have been as good as what actually happened. Nino raised his hand to his mouth, disguising his expression a bit. Sho turned again, and glowered, but didn't say anything right away. Instead he moved back to the center of the room and put his hands on his hips. For all his bravado, he certainly looked lost.
There was a long moment when he seemed like he would voice something, and couldn't find the words.
"Not sayin' I could act as sheriff," Nino offered, examining his nails, "but if I were you, I might check that note over on the far chest."
From the way Sho started, it was obvious he hadn't noticed the paper. He moved to chest with purpose, snatching at the note. As he read, the lines on his forehead only deepened; Nino didn't know exactly what it said, but was obviously a good-bye memo of some kind, especially left for Aiba. Thanking the deputy for his hospitality, maybe.
After a long minute, the sheriff put the paper back down on the chest and stared at it.
"Took Aiba's horse," he mumbled.
"Thought maybe he'd take the bedsheets," Nino commented.
The sheriff turned around slowly, fingers clenched into fists at his sides. Even across the room Nino could see the labored rise and fall of his chest. He looked like he'd just run from the dunes beyond Doc's place to the corral past Ohno's shop several times; drained and weary, limbs sagging from exertion.
But if he wanted to say anything, it died on his tongue, and he just swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.
"Why did you think he was gonna stay, sheriff?" Nino asked. "Fight was over."
Sho just stared at him, and Nino shrugged with a wry grin.
"Guess there wasn't much else for him to stick around for," he continued, and sighed, flicking a bit of dust off his left sleeve. He watched it fall to the ground and fade among the grains of the boards. "Pity. Woulda liked to have a rematch."
He turned, to head back towards the door, and then paused, foot halfway 'cross the bound.
"Oh, I didn't mean with my shotgun," he added. A brief glance at Sho's face made him smile- the sheriff's features had gone pale, stark against the soot-covered wall behind him. Nino jammed his hands into his pockets and stepped back out into the sunlight. It was already hotter than hell. He breathed in, and then out, and whistled a tune as he left Sho standing in Aiba's living room.
------
He tied Aiba’s horse to a post at the town closest to Nagase’s ranch, but it was still a good three or four miles away. The last thing he needed was Aiba’s horse getting stolen. Jun paid a shopkeep with the money he’d earned from Nagase what felt like ages ago and set off on foot.
If Jun gave a damn about self-preservation, there were sneakier ways to get around to the man’s house. There was a rocky outcropping round back of the man’s house that would give him cover and allow him to avoid walking through the grazing fields. But Jun wasn’t in the mood for subterfuge, not when he needed to be honest and come clean. He walked right up the dirt trail out of town, following it west. A wooden sign marker with a big N crest on it marked the beginning of Nagase’s land soon enough.
He was on the man’s territory now. There was no turning back. Keeping his footsteps even, he continued up the path. His extensive grazing land was fenced off on either side, stretching out as far as Jun could see. There were cattle scattered there, a few hands off in the distance idling. He was totally visible, but none of the hands paid him any attention.
Which was rather strange, he thought. Maybe the man himself was waiting patiently on his porch to do the deed himself rather than having his hired help drag him over there. It was quiet, far too quiet as he continued his walk. His hand idled at his hip, feeling the butt of his revolver to make sure it was still there. Where was the big Nagase welcome? Where were the gunshots he’d expected?
All he heard was the cattle to his right and left and the sound of his own steps in the dirt. The big red barn was looming closer with the farm house beyond. Not a one of the hands in the fields had stopped his progress, and none of his other hired associates had popped out to surprise him once he got past the fields and closer to the house. Usually there were a dozen or more folks milling about, waiting for the man’s orders. Jun had been one of those men before.
He was unhindered all the way to the porch, looking around every few seconds, expecting to be ambushed. His boot hit the first step, creaking the board. Nothing. He made it past the porch swing to the front door. Nothing. Well, even a dead man walking could still have manners.
Jun knocked sharply on the screen door. “Mr. Nagase!”
No sound from inside the house.
He knocked three times. “Mr. Nagase. It’s Jun Matsumoto!”
Still nothing. His heart was starting to race. This had to be a trap. He walked around the porch, seeing no one within several hundred yards. The only folks around seemed to be the men in the fields. Maybe Nagase had sent his other crew off on a job? Well, he’d spent nearly two days getting here - he wasn’t leaving yet.
“Mr. Nagase?” he called out, opening the door and entering the man’s home. He could be shot on sight now, and nobody would say Nagase didn’t have the right. But he had to apologize, make his peace with the man. “Sir?”
He’d stayed in the man’s home before the job, and the living room was appointed sparsely. There was an oil painting of some place in Texas over the fireplace and the gleaming Confederate officer’s sword mounted proudly on the other wall.
He passed through the hall to the man’s study. Sunlight streamed through the windows, dust motes floating through the air. He hadn’t been in here before. There was a fine oak desk, probably to show the man’s affluence and respectability despite being a pretty obvious criminal. In between some bookshelves, Jun’s eye was drawn to a simple glass display case. Inside, he saw small trinkets - a few rings, buttons, and an oval locket with a simple flower design. Its silver chain gleamed in the sun. Were these Nagase’s spoils from the war?
Jun moved back into the hall, feeling nauseated. Where the hell was the man? “It’s Jun Matsumoto, sir! Are you home?”
The house was empty. He’d come at the wrong time. Or the right time, if continuing to live was something he desired. When he made it back to the porch, one of the hands was there, unarmed.
“Can I help you, sir?”
The kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen with big, earnest eyes. He probably had no idea his boss did more than raise cattle. “You know where Mr. Nagase is?”
He scratched his head. “Why, no sir I don’t. All I know’s he’ll be back in a day or two. Conducting business somewhere, I think.”
Jun had waited too long. Nagase wasn’t there, and if anything, he was out hiring a gun to take him down. Whatever business he was conducting probably wasn’t anything legal. He headed down the steps and back to the path for the long walk back to Aiba’s horse.
“Can I tell Mr. Nagase you called on him?”
He considered this. It would be more suspicious if he left without saying anything. If he was marked already, maybe Nagase would see his visit as some kind of atonement. “Tell him Matsumoto was here.”
The boy nodded, letting him pass unhindered. Any man was free now. He’d avoided the man who probably wished him dead. He could go anywhere. Any god forsaken place, territory, state. The whole country was open. But he remembered his promise, much as he was loathe to keep it. He’d told Sho he’d stay until Mendoza had fully backed down. Maybe he’d get back and all of them would be lying dead in the streets. The thought chilled him to his bones.
His destination again was Rapid Springs, and he was willingly walking through hellfire.
-------
The church was empty and dark, but Sho preferred it that way. For months now he’d come in at night. Praying for the town to put its trust in him, praying for the strength to do right by the people. It was his closest way to talk to God and ask for guidance, but he’d never before crept in here after nightfall to beg for forgiveness of this nature.
His hands were clasped and shaking as he sat in the last pew in the back, eyes watery as he stared at the cross up near the front. “Take these thoughts away, please, Lord, please.”
He didn’t know what else to do. His mind should have been on Mendoza and the town’s defense and the threat of retaliation. Instead, he was plagued with the man who’d run out on them, stealing a horse and abandoning them without a word. About the man whose scent was still in his other clothes, whose lips and touch Sho couldn’t forget. He knocked his head against his praying hands. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
Even in God’s house, he couldn’t drown it out. All the hints and insinuations Ninomiya had let fall from his lips, the words curling around Sho’s ears and seeping into his mind. Like the snake in the garden, wanting him to taste good and evil, the forbidden knowledge. Was it all lies? Was Ninomiya using Sho’s weakness for Jun intentionally? Or had they…had the two men who couldn’t stand the sight of one another…
He wiped his eyes and his snotty mouth, choking on a sob. “I can’t do this, Lord. Please, grant me the strength,” he whispered. “Please Lord Jesus, please.” The shoddy stained glass window beyond the cross offered no solace. The savior, holding a lamb, cradling it but not giving Sho the answers he wanted so desperately. He unlaced his fingers and placed his hands on the back of the pew in front of him, hauling himself to his feet.
He was pathetic in the sight of the Lord. The only good thing he’d done in days was protect the town, and he’d had to murder to do so. And every other waking moment was plagued with sin. The thought of never seeing Jun again, of never knowing if the man had been genuine or playing Sho like a fiddle. He’d never ever know.
Sho shuffled along, opening the big church door into the cool night. It’d be a full moon before too long. He was just going down the steps when he heard a voice talking quietly but animatedly in the churchyard beyond. He rubbed his clammy hands on his trousers and walked around the side of the church, seeing one of the big grave markers towards the back.
Ninomiya was sitting in the dirt, running his fingers along the smooth tombstone, chatting away. Aiba mentioned that Nino’s fiancée had been buried here - perhaps he was telling her about the town’s good for nothing Yankee sheriff. He should have kept moving, should have taken the long walk back to his own place. But a twig snapped underfoot, and the sharp Ninomiya looked up.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, turning to leave.
“Midnight confession, Sheriff?” That tone in his voice, that know-it-all tone. Ninomiya delighted in making one uncomfortable to the point where you wanted to kill him.
He leaned back against the church building. “I was praying for the town.”
“For the town?” Nino called back, getting to his feet and brushing off the back of his trousers. “You can pray for the town every Sunday with Pastor White and all the other folk. You needed a personal chat with God, Sheriff. You ain’t foolin’ me.”
Sho licked his lips. “I’m tryin’ not to let you rile me up, Ninomiya, on account of you visiting your woman’s grave."
The other man stepped away, came closer. “Visit’s done, Sheriff.” He came up until he was within spitting distance. “You praying for the Lord to tell you what happened ‘tween me and Matsumoto? You praying for a prophet’s wisdom, to see all and know all?”
The sheriff’s fingers balled up tight. “None of my business what you been up to in your free time.”
“Now now now, Sheriff. Now now.” He kept moving closer to Sho, his voice getting lower and more ominous. “You gonna lean against God’s house and tell a bold faced lie? You best head on back inside and pray some more. Pray that I don’t tell you what it feels like to have Jun begging you. Begging to fuck him.”
“You got a forked tongue like the devil himself!” Sho sputtered, launching himself at Nino. His fist connected with the other man’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Nino got to his hands and knees, laughing like a man gone crazy. The sheriff watched him take a dirty finger to the side of his mouth where Sho had split his lip, taking the blood and licking his finger. “You wanna know what it sounds like Sheriff? Sounds so low, so low. From way deep in his throat. ‘Please, Sho. Please, won’t you do it for me, please?’”
Sho kicked the man this time, barely controlling his rage. Pastor White was gone with the women and children and his house was the closest. Wasn’t going to wake up no one if he beat the daylights out of Ninomiya. “You shut your fucking mouth. Shut it!”
The other man was on his back, still laughing. “You think I didn’t hear you in there praying, Sheriff?” He spat out a mouthful of blood. “You think I didn’t hear you crying for Jesus to save you? ‘Jesus, help me…I want to lie with another man, Jesus, oh won’t you come help me? Won’t you forgive me?’”
His boot connected with Ninomiya’s ribs, making the man wheeze as he cackled. “Stop it!” Sho could barely see with the tears in his eyes and the fury bubbling within him. “Stop it!”
Nino was able to dodge the next one since Sho swung wide, and his leg ached. He stumbled back, pulling at his hair to keep from screaming. Why had God cursed him? Why was the Lord spitting at him, using this wretched man to taunt him? His back hit the church again, and he cried out wordlessly. Flashes in his mind. Of Jun’s hands, Jun’s tongue, Jun’s teeth. The way Jun moaned when their mouths had come together.
“Stop it!” he shouted, even though Nino hadn’t said anything this time. He shut his eyes tight, pounding his fists behind him against the church wall, hard enough that his hands would be purple come daylight.
He felt hands at his ankles. Ninomiya had crawled over, still laughing as he pulled himself up onto his knees. Sho tried shoving him back, but his strength and willpower was drained as the hitching sobs refused to dissipate. “Sheriff…”
“Don’t say no more.” Nino’s dirty, bloody hands were inching up his pant leg. “Don’t make me think of him. Just don’t make me think of him.”
He gasped as Nino yanked at his belt out of nowhere. There were no words as he watched the saloon owner make himself comfortable on his knees before him, hands perfectly steady as he undid the buckle and reached for the clasps that held his trousers closed. “You want to know, don’t you?” the other man teased. “Want to know what he’d do for you?”
“No,” he mumbled. “No, don’t…” He kept his eyes squeezed shut, the air disappearing from his lungs as the other man grabbed hold of him roughly. “What do you think you’re…”
“Shoulda heard the way he begged me. ‘Oh Sheriff. Sheriff, right there. I want you right there.’”
Sho felt like his legs were going to collapse under him as Ninomiya’s voice disappeared and his warm mouth closed around him. “No. Don’t please…” The weight of his sin was heavy, but the sensation between his legs was unfamiliar. Sho dug his fingers into the wall, unable to find anything to cling to as he cried out.
He knew Ninomiya was still bleeding from before and hurt bad, but there was no way to tell as he bobbed his head, taking Sho into his mouth over and over again, running his tongue up and down the length of him. “Stop, you gotta stop.”
His breathing was shallow, gulpfuls of air every few seconds as he kept his eyes shut and rode out the incredible sensations shuddering through his body. He remembered Jun’s hands on his vest, the way the man had roughly pulled him close in the darkened living room of Aiba’s house. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”
Ninomiya was touching his tongue to the very tip of him. “Don’t be calling for Jesus now. Call for him. Call for Jun, Sheriff. Let him know how you’re doing tonight.”
“Shut up shut up shut up,” he cried as the other man quickened his pace, taking him deeper in his throat. Sho remembered Jun’s hot mouth, and the man before him seemed to disappear and the gunman took his place. Sho gasped again. “No…no, Jun you can’t…oh fuck…”
“Say it.”
He put his fingers in the man’s hair, and he pretended it was longer. “Jun, please.”
“Say it.”
His knees were knocking together something awful. His mind was whirring, and he was going to come. Jun was giving him the best feeling of his whole damn life. It was Jun. It was Jun’s mouth. It was Jun. “Oh god, Jun…Jun I’m going to…please I…”
He felt the night air suddenly as Ninomiya backed away, crawling back in the dirt. “What’s that, Sheriff?”
He opened his eyes, aching at the loss of warmth and he nearly fainted. He tasted salt in his mouth. He’d been so close, and he could already feel himself spilling a little onto his pants. “You…why did you…”
“Why did I stop?” Ninomiya laughed. “You want to know why I stopped?” The man got to his feet, moving close enough that Sho could smell himself on the other man’s breath. He had to finish, he had to. This was cruel. Ninomiya pressed his hands to either side of Sho’s head, leaning forward to run his tongue along the sheriff’s earlobe. “Beg me to go back.”
He took himself in his own hand, eyes leaking and heart palpitating. “Just leave me, leave me alone.”
“Call me by his name again. Beg for it.”
His hand was sticky now as he tried to bring himself over the edge. “I won’t, I won’t do it.”
Ninomiya’s teeth bit down on his ear. “Come on. Tell Jun what you want.”
“No no no…”
The other man’s hands were roaming under his shirt, pinching his skin. And all he could think about were Matsumoto’s hands, his mouth. “Tell Jun. Go on, tell him.”
The sensations were overwhelming him, and it was like a shotgun blast right next to him as he finally came, messing up his pant leg and his hand. “Jun,” he whispered bitterly. “Jun, please…oh god, Jun.”
He slunk down the wall until he was sitting in the dirt, shaking uncontrollably. No amount of praying would ever erase this night. He knocked his head back against the church wall. “Damn you. God damn you.”
When he finally opened his eyes, he was in the churchyard. Completely alone.
-------
When the roan's hooves stopped just short of Aiba's forge, there was black smoke billowing from the fire inside. Jun stopped and dismounted, wrapping the reins around the hitching post just out front- there was a tightening in his belly, and he didn't know if it was good or bad that the deputy was back from Clearwater. His boots sank into the sandy soil as he approached the shop.
Aiba was banging on a stagecoach axle when Jun approached. He turned, wiping soot and sweat from his brow, and he was smiling; that was something, at least. Least the man wasn't fixin' to have Jun's head for stealing his mare.
"Morning, Matsumoto," he said, cheerfully, turning back to the red hot metal. "Was wonderin' when you were gonna stumble back into town."
"Ain't stumbling," Jun mumbled, taking his hat off and sitting down on the stacked cratest nearest him. "Limpin', more like."
"Well, at least you can still walk," Aiba told him, and he gave him an unreadable stare; sometimes Jun felt the deputy knew far more than he was willing to let on, others that the man couldn't be more oblivious. It was an odd line to toe, but Aiba was an oddity, specially 'round those parts. How he kept his disposition was a mystery Jun had not yet been able to solve.
He twirled his hat 'round his fingers a few times, lightly brushing across the bullet hole through the brim.
"Have you- talked to the sheriff?" he asked, after a long few minutes of silence between them with only Aiba's hammer pangs echoing through the building.
"Not really," Aiba said. He stuck the tongs holding the mechanical part back into the embers, twirling it until the metal turned red and bright. "Least not about you. Something happen?"
Jun kicked at pebbles, watching them skip across the dirt. "No. Just wondering."
"Think he came here trying to find you after you left."
There it was- the twisting in Jun's chest. He swallowed down the lump, and felt it move through his form. It was painful; throbbing, a little, in one of those long, hard aching type ways. Like his dreams of blood splattered across lacy petticoats were.
"He did?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.
"Heard from Ninomiya," Aiba replied. Jun's blood went cold- he'd spent hours trying to erase the memories of Nino's fingers curled around his length, and so far he hadn't managed to do anything but relive it several hundred times. He stared down at the dirt floor and tried to stifle the red starting up at the edges of his vision. Course the sheriff had been there with Nino- the saloon owner was everywhere, saw everything. There wasn't a damn opportunity that man would pass up if it meant further adding to the burden of guilt hanging on Jun's shoulders.
"He sound mad?" he mumbled, head in his hands. He hoped the blacksmith heard the words anyway.
"Dunno," came the answer. "But why don't you ask him yourself?"
Jun's head snapped up. "What?"
Aiba pointed, twisting his torso, finger leading out towards the dusty road where the sun was beating down against the dirt and sand.
"Comin' up here now. Guess you'll get your chance."
He had half a mind to run straight out in the other direction- maybe he could come up with some excuse, maybe not. Didn't even matter, he just desperately didn't want to be there. Sheriff Sakurai's boots slowed as his gaze swept over Jun's seated form. There was a hesitation there, and it spoke volumes; Jun had been stupid to come back. He'd been stupid to think there was anything there, and even dumber to think that the waters would wash away the memories of Nino's hands on him and the rhythm pull of his palms.
Jun sucked in a shaky breath, steeling himself.
"Morning, sheriff," Aiba called, when Sho got within range of the structure. Sho gave him a half-hearted hat tip and stopped near the far wall, as if he couldn't bring himself to go any further.
"Morning," he replied. A pause, and then he shuffled his feet. "Matsumoto."
"Sheriff," Jun responded in kind. There was another long period of quiet, and finally, Aiba seemed to notice something was wrong. His hammer stopped it's banging, and he gave Jun a purfunctory glance, then Sho. He didn't say anything- that was the nice thing about Aiba, he rarely stuck his nose in other people's business, but he did cease his work. It added to the collectively growing silence.
"You back, then?" Sho asked.
"I made a promise, didn't I?" Jun fired back, but it lacked bite, and it was obvious. He probably sounded ridiculous clinging to his oath in such a way. "Ain't done yet, not for sure."
He caught Sho's eye, but it was only for a moment, and then the sheriff ducked his head again, breaking the contact. The tightness in Jun's belly increased tenfold; the man was embarrassed, ready to bolt. Jun had spooked him so bad he could barely stand to be in the same room. The realization was just another knot clogging his throat that he had to choke down.
"I'll be off," he mumbled, throwing his hat back on his head. He just needed to get out, get away from the overbearing tension. He didn't even know where to go; Aiba's place was his one refuge in Rapid Springs. He settled on Ohno's- at least that way he was out of the sun. He got to his feet and dusted his palms off on his trousers.
Neither sheriff nor deputy stopped him.
--
If anything, Jun wanted to avoid Ninomiya more than he wanted to avoid the honorable sheriff, and from the looks of things, the saloon owner hadn't left his establishment all day. It was a surprising respite, giving Jun some time to think about what his next move was. He wanted to bury his fist in Nino's face, but he was still the outsider, and rash actions like that would get him kicked out even faster than the awkwardness would.
He did some odd jobs around Rapid Springs during the day to help clean up the mess Mendoza's gang had left- with Johnson six feet under, his windmill still needed repair before his widow and boys got back, so they'd fixed that up as an act of charity and remorse. Doc's place was still being put back together from the bullet that had nearly taken off half the stoop. And until the cart of glass came in, the windows in all the buildings were still broken. Rapid Springs might have won the battle, but she still looked like the loser in the brawl.
As the sun went down, Jun sat by the creekbed, back against the gnarled old tree just past the sloping dirt. He didn't much fancy going back to the blacksmith's yet, and the saloon was right out- so he let his boots sink into the sandy dirt by the dried bed and sighed. He just wanted to stay relatively out of sight.
Boards creaked up behind his position- the sheriff's station porch.
He didn't turn around. His breath had already caught in his throat, and just sitting there he felt like a thousand bullets were bearing down on him. The creaking didn't continue; a signal that the figure had stopped moving. Staring down at him, probably.
All it did was conjure up the memories of the night spent sleepless in Aiba's bed again, sticky residue of Nino's ministrations a far cry better than the turmoil that had plagued Jun's thoughts.
Then the creaking resumed, and the door opened and shut again with a snap, and Jun let out the breath he'd been holding. He glared down at the dust covering the toe of his boots like it was at fault for the mess he'd gotten himself into.
Furious with everything- but mostly himself- he pushed himself back to his feet. Maybe he could sneak into Aiba's place without having to talk to the other man; he had nothing against him, but his head was throbbing from guilt and shame, and the last thing Jun wanted to do was hold a conversation.
Luck was running against him. Sheriff Sakurai came out of his station just as Jun was passing by, dust flying up behind his heels.
"Why did you leave?" the sheriff called, and Jun stopped, cursing. His mind was telling him to go- ignore him, just go, just deal with the residual self-loathing on your own, but his feet didn't obey. He stopped.
"Well?" came the call when Jun didn't answer. He was almost passed the station- a few more feet, maybe, and he didn't know if Sho would follow him. Jun squeezed his eyes shut, fighing down the rising nausea.
"Ain't no reason," Jun replied. His tongue felt thick. "Had some business to attend to."
The half-truth tasted more bitter than a lie would have. He heard Sho's boots against the porch behind him.
"You just take off, without warning- you're s'posed to be brave, aren't you?" The sheriff sounded angry, but there was something else there- something raw that Jun couldn't identify. "You can't just leave when there's something you don't wanna face."
Jun barked out a laugh. "Can't I?"
"You just keep runnin' hoping that you'll be faster than what follows you," Sho hissed.
"What of it?" Jun asked, whirling. The blow to his pride was a stronger motivation than the shame he knew had to be pinking his cheeks. "You think you know me? You think my life has been like yours? You know nothing, sheriff."
He spat the title like it was a curse, and it worked. Sho reeled a bit, stricken.
"I came back cause I made you a promise, and I owe this town a debt," Jun continued. "And it has nothing to do with you."
"Do you know what you did?" Sho cried, and took several long strides to stand in front of Jun, looking like a cat in a thunderstorm, all alight and trembling and bristling at the same time. "Do you know what you did?"
Course he did. And it tasted like damnation that Jun swallowed back. But the sheriff was loosed, hollering like the devil, and suddenly it didn't seem like he was yelling at Jun anymore- seemed more like he was waging a war inside, where the gunslinger couldn't go.
"Do you know what you did?!" the sheriff repeated, and then his face started to crumple. 'Do you know what I did?"
The tension changed so fast Jun didn't have much time to catch up with it, and Sho sank down to his knees in the dirt, hands over his face. Suddenly, he didn't look like a high and mighty federal appointee who would wrestle for control over his jurisdiction- he looked like a lost kid who'd just killed his first game and was watching the blood pool on the ground by his own hand. His whole body was shaking.
"Do you know what I did?" he kept repeating, over and over until the words all blurred together with the tears Jun could hear in his tone, even if they were hidden behind his fingers.
"Sheriff," Jun said, and knelt down, putting his hands on the man's trembling shoulders. When he wasn't immediately pushed away, he let his fingers curl tighter.
"Oh God," Sho whispered.
"Sheriff," Jun tried again, and then breathed, "Sho."
They were in the street, still- the sun was falling and almost disappeared, but they weren't hidden from sight, and Jun didn't think the rest of Rapid Springs needed to see the sheriff in such a state. He hauled Sho to his feet, rougher than he would have liked just to make it quicker, and encountered little resistance. With a quick look to his left, checking for prying eyes, Jun practically pulled the sheriff into his station and back into the bedroom.
Sho just sat on the edge of the mattress, head still buried in his hands.
"What happened?" Jun asked, when the door was shut.
"Oh, God," Sho said, tone warbling. "God damn it. God damn him."
He was shaking again, like a leaf, and Jun sat down next to him so their shoulders were touching.
"God damn who?" he asked, even though he was relatively certain that he already knew. He couldn't tell if his own doubt was lessening or doubling- maybe it was his fault, in a roundabout way. Maybe his hasty departure had opened up the door. "Was- was it Ninomiya?"
"Oh, God." Seemed an affirmative, especially given the way the sheriff's body shook harder. It hurt all over, like he'd been punched in the gut and someone had stolen all of his air. Jun leaned in without thinking to lace his fingers with Sho's and tangle his other hand in the sheriff's hair, pulling him close. Wasn't nothing he could do that would take away the anguish; nothing he could do to shift the blame or make the wound close faster. He sighed against Sho's hair and buried his face in the strands.
"Sheriff," Jun whispered. "S'alright."
"No," Sho mumbled against his palms. "Ain't never gonna be alright."
"He played both of us," Jun told him, tightening his grip on the sheriff's fingers. "You hear me? He got us both, bad."
Either he was getting through, or the onslaught of guilt had tapered off; Sho's shoulders stopped shaking so bad.
"Sho," Jun breathed again, and pulled the man's hands away from his face.
"No," the sheriff whispered, but even as he said it he was leaning in- his lips tasted like salt, like the remnants of tears. It was heady being on his bed, alone, wrapped in the clean scent of soap once more, but Jun let the gesture stay as a chaste kiss. Pushin' the man would do far more harm than good, no matter how intoxicating the situation was. It was hard to pull back and break contact, but Jun did it, one hand firmly around the sheriff's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said, honestly.
"Don't really think it's your fault," Sho mumbled. "Not all of it, anyway."
"Maybe not," Jun acquiesced, rising to his feet. "But I'll shoulder it anyway."
Sho didn't seem to have a response for that, and he allowed himself to be pushed back against the pillow. Jun felt a swell of hatred for the saloon owner- how far would Nino go to make sure everyone was as damn miserable as him? How far did this push and pull have to continue? It was like watching bullets fly and hit the bystanders of a gunfight; the more the tumbleweed of blame rolled, the quicker its speed and the more bodies got hit by its brambles.
The sheriff was warm when Jun curled up behind him on the bed.
"You gonna run again?" Sho asked.
"Naw," Jun replied. "Maybe I'll stick around this time."
The other man laughed mirthlessly. "You're standing in quicksand here."
"Maybe," Jun sighed. And Sho still didn't push him away, or demand he leave. Jun let his face rest near the nape of the sheriff's neck, breathing in the scent of him- all ambition and bright ideals and naivete slowly draining like a dying man's life onto the dirt. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, he could staunch the flow.
Maybe he didn't have to let Sho bleed out alone.
With the sheriff's even, heavy breathing lulling him, Jun slept.
------
He took a swig of whiskey, sloshing it around in his mouth until he could feel the liquid between each tooth, letting it coat his tongue. Nino leaned forward, spitting over the porch rail. Even now, his mind was reminding him of the things he’d done the past few days out of anger and hate and the desire to see the town free of men he despised. But no amount of alcohol was going to cleanse his palate.
Because it seemed that despite his best efforts, his best machinations, the sheriff and Matsumoto weren’t going to run away. Jun had gone for a couple days, probably stewing and broody as he seemed wont to do, but no amount of yanking on his guilt or on his person had worked. He’d come back to Rapid Springs with his tail between his legs, and as far as Ninomiya knew, he’d spent the night at the sheriff’s place the day before.
Playing to Jun’s guilt or Sho’s faith or the two men’s strange infatuation with one another hadn’t sent them packing. They’d reconciled, Nino was sure of it, and he took another swig of his whiskey before dropping the cup on the wooden porch and letting it roll off into the dirt. He spat heavily on the planks before heading back inside. Appealing to the men’s baser natures had only stunned them briefly. He’d have to take another tack. If he felt like taking another tack.
He could move on. Leave his shitty saloon and the black-toothed whores and just set up shop somewhere else. Start over instead of rolling in the pig slop his life had turned into since she’d gone away. But it had taken every bit of him to leave St. Louis in the first place, cast away the comforts of home and family to make his way on his own. To do all that over would just end in disappointment again, wouldn’t it? And Rapid Springs was the home of the closest thing he had to a friend in the world. Running a saloon in San Francisco or back in El Paso would still be running a saloon, but there’d be no fresh baked bread waiting for him every other morning. No pats on the back or quiet words of encouragement. He’d lose that.
It had been a quiet day, he thought as he entered his room and shut the door, kicking off his boots. Around midday, Aiba had apparently gone back to Clearwater to bring Pastor White, the women and the children back to town since it had been a week already since Mendoza had attacked. Sakurai had been against it, saying there was no way of knowing whether the Sandburgs had drunk their fill of Rapid Springs’ misery yet. But the other men had been clamoring for their womenfolk, and the sheriff had had to allow it.
For his part, Nino had stayed inside his business all day, going through bottle after bottle. He chuckled as he had his shirt only half unbuttoned before flopping down on his mattress. The booze could numb him, but he was too accustomed to its taste to forget everything. “Fuck it all,” he mumbled, putting his hand over his eyes to block out the faint candle light in his bedroom.
The shocked faces Jun and Sho had made when he’d visited them in turn weren’t bringing him the satisfaction they had days earlier, knowing they were probably off licking their wounds or one another by now. He poked at his belt buckle, drunkenly fumbling with it. Nobody was coming to guilt him tonight. His sheets would only bear his own weight and sweat. He wasn’t drunk enough to mess with his own girls.
Maybe he could conjure her face in his mind’s eye, magic her soft lips and straw-colored hair. With each passing month she faded more and more until he was finding release based solely on what he thought she’d always looked like. He tugged at his trousers, legs getting caught, and he tried to think. The whiskey was rocking back and forth in his brain like a boat at sea, and he couldn’t concentrate.
“Come on,” he mumbled, running his hand along his length, trying to find his normal rhythm. “Come on, come on.” But he couldn’t conjure the curls and the gentle swell of her hips. All he saw was Jun, stunned. Sho, begging. The both of them, coerced into calling another man’s name by Nino’s insistence. Nobody called for him. He gave up, kicking the rail at the foot of his bed in frustration.
He tugged the covers up and over his half naked form, hoping he could sleep away the night. But soon enough there was hollering in the street, from the sound of it, Thompson. Pulling himself up out of bed, he trudged to the window and was going to lean out to cuss at the other man, but when he pushed the curtains aside he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed.
The one part of his heart, the tiny sliver that hadn’t yet turned black as pitch, ached. Orange and yellow and heat, and it was rising up with smoke from the dry goods store across the way. “No,” he muttered. “No, no it can’t be…"
He saw horses, men seated atop whooping and shouting as they tossed one last flaming torch through the front window of Ohno’s shop. Nino grabbed for his discarded pants, not bothering with shoes as he ran from his room. Mendoza was back. Mendoza was feeling far less than charitable, and he was hitting the town where it would hurt the most - the food supply. Ohno’s shop was the only place in five miles that regularly stocked the necessities.
Nino’s bare feet carried him out the swinging saloon doors and into the dirty street where Mendoza’s boys had already ridden off. He could only stand there, stock still in horror and disbelief. He hadn’t seen him all day. He’d been doing an inventory, hadn’t he? Was that what he’d said he was doing today? Why couldn’t he remember? Thompson was already running over with a bucket, and soon enough all the men along the street were running for the well.
Stumbling forward, the smoke clouding his eyes, he tried to make his way to the store front. “Satoshi!” he cried. “Satoshi, get out! Get out of there, you lazy sack of shit!”
He heard a shout. “Ninomiya, get back!” It was the sheriff, wearing pajamas that Nino would have mercilessly teased him for if he was at any other point in his life. “Watch out, I know he’s got gunpowder in there and if the flames get it…”
There was a horrific bang at the rear of the shop, sending all the men in the street diving for cover. He found himself on the ground, Matsumoto half-wrapped around him. He kicked at the other man. “You don’t get it, damn it! He’s a heavy sleeper, I have to get him out!” Nino screamed as Matsumoto struggled to keep a hold on him. “Satoshi!”
“Jun, get him back!” Sho was hollering, trying to coordinate the men with the water buckets.
He tried to bite at Jun, screaming until his voice was hoarse from it. “Let me go! We have to get him out!”
Matsumoto kept dragging him back towards the saloon and away from the burning building. “Don’t be stupid. If he didn’t get out when they threw the torch in, then he ain’t coming out. We gotta put the fire out, now help, alright?”
“Get the fuck off of me!” he shouted. “Satoshi! God damn it, Satoshi…”
Jun was pulling him under his arms, and he felt another set of hands taking him by his feet. He tried to kick, but the other man was holding him tight. He looked up to see Sho giving Jun a serious look. He struggled again. “Let go of me, you sonsabitches, let go! Satoshi needs help!”
“We’re putting him in the cell,” Sho was telling Jun, and the two of them were dragging him away from the fire, away from where Ohno was, and he was never going to be able to shout again, much less speak. Why weren’t they trying to save his friend? Why didn’t anyone go around back to where the baker had his bedroom?
They hauled him into the sheriff’s station and into the cell. “Wanna cuff him?” Jun asked darkly, and Nino hollered right in his face.
“Shut up, would ya?” Sho was saying, trying to get him laid down on the bed.
“I’m gonna kill Mendoza!” he heard someone vow, only realizing seconds later that it was his own voice, hoarse and low from the smoke and shouting. Sho and Jun exchanged a look. Nino tried to sit up, but Jun held him down. “Let me out of here, you motherfuckers! Let me out! I’m riding for Mendoza’s god forsaken cave right now! Let me go!”
Sho wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We need to go help. Do it.”
Nino heard Jun’s muttered apology before his fist knocked him unconscious.