FF: Slow Surprise (Criminal Minds) JJ/Emily NC-17 1/14
The woman's body slid off the wagon onto the dry, hard-packed land with a sickening crunch. Her face, beautiful in life despite the lines that bespoke of a ramshackle existence, was marred now by bruises and cuts and stains of her own blood. The wagon pulled away, the wooden wheels creaking as the mule brayed once and lumbered on. By morning, the wind had obliterated most of the tracks and scavengers had obliterated most of the woman's body.
*
Wyoming, 1872
“Mr. Rossi, there must be something you can do.”
“Believe me, Mrs. Lamontagne, I wish there was. It's out of my hands now.” David Rossi sat back and adjusted his tie, loosening it a bit to defray the heat of the morning. “Mr. Strauss put through the foreclosure paperwork. The property's been sold to another buyer. I'm sorry.”
“But it's our land.”
“Not anymore.”
David Rossi felt truly sorry for the woman before him, and even sorrier that he had to tell her ‘no.’ Jennifer Lamontagne was too young to be a widow, even by the harsh standards of the New Frontier. As bank manager David had always considered himself an excellent judge of character - especially when it came to investing in that character. Will Lamontagne and his bride had been an excellent investment. Working in one of the newly discovered coal mines north of the town, Will had been well on his way to making foreman when a cave in had cut his life despicably short and left Jennifer, or JJ as she was known to friends, alone to care for their land and their 2 year old son.
JJ had tried, David had to give her that. She'd taken a job as the town's school mistress. She took in laundry and mending. He hadn't seen her in a new dress in months, the one she wore now mended but clean. Still, it hadn't been enough to keep Mr. Strauss, the bank owner, from filing the foreclosure notice and selling the land to the highest bidder.
She was a proud woman, but she couldn't hide the waiver in her voice as she asked, “What will we do?”
“I asked around and Miss Letty has room over at the boardinghouse. You should be able to rent a room there with no problem given your salary.”
“And our stock?”
“Purchased on credit, with the land as collateral, I’m afraid they’ve been included in the foreclosure notice as well,” David explained gently.
“So, we've lost everything. Everything Will and I worked so hard for.”
“It's not the end, Mrs. Lamontagne. You're still young, you're a hard worker. You'll be back on your feet in no time.”
JJ pulled herself up, her back ramrod straight as she wiped at tears that were threatening to fall before meeting Rossi's sympathetic gaze. “How long do we have?”
“Mr. Strauss says immediately... but seeing as the new owner hasn't shown up to claim the property yet, I think I can get you a few more days.”
“I appreciate the kindness,” JJ answered stiffly. She stood, nodded curtly, and walked out of the bank manager's office with more pride than most would have managed.
The sun shone brightly on the town of Mission Springs as JJ stepped out of the bank, momentarily blinded by the light streaming so effortlessly from the clear, blue sky. People moved about, some lingering over a friendly conversation, others moving with purpose, trying to get a week’s worth of errands into a single day. It was a small town, a good town, but JJ knew it wouldn't take long for nearly everyone to find out she'd lost the ranch. The humiliation nearly drove her to her knees; instead, she stepped down onto the packed dirt street, avoided a pile of horse dung, and headed for the general store.
*
Aaron Hotchner swept the front of his store clean, pushing the dust and leaves and dirt accumulated on the wooden walkway off into the street with an affirmative nod of completion. Inside, he could hear his wife counting up a sale and turned just in time to grab up his son Jack in one arm as he chased little Henry Lamontagne out the front door. “Whoa there,” Aaron chuckled, spinning them around once easily and eliciting giggles from both boys before setting them down again with a gentle nudge back into the store. Henry took off like a shot, Jack chasing right after him.
Aaron sighed contentedly. When he'd told his father he was leaving New York for the West he'd been met with nothing but scorn and a litany of reasons why he would likely fail in the venture. Friends he'd known since childhood had made wagers on whether or not he'd last the first year, much less make it all the way to Wyoming in one piece. Now, six years later, his store was thriving, his family happy and safe, and the nightmares of the War were finally starting to fade.
“Good day, Mr. Hotchner.”
“Good day, Mrs. Munroe. You find what you were looking for,” he said pleasantly.
“Sure did. Hailey's ordering me some new material and she said that bow saw for my husband should be here soon.”
“Yes, ma'am. I'm expecting the stage coach any day now.”
Aaron tipped his head politely as the older woman smiled and moved on to tend to the rest of her errands, a full basket of food and goods slung over her arm. Hailey stepped out of the now-empty store and slid her arm around her husband's waist, squeezing lightly. “Another satisfied customer.”
He smiled and kissed his wife's forehead. “Of course she was. How could she not be with such a lovely clerk?”
“Are you flattering me, sir,” Hailey asked, feigning offense.
“Is it working?”
“Absolutely.” She leaned up and kissed him as much as propriety would allow for a Monday morning on the streets of Mission Springs, the promise of more to come lingering in her eyes as she pulled away.
Pulled away just in time to catch Henry as he scurried out of the store again. “Hold on there,” Hailey admonished, grabbing the little boy up just as Aaron snagged their son up right after.
“Mama!”
Henry's delighted squeal drew Aaron and Hailey's attention down the street as JJ approached, her face a mask of concentration. Hailey sighed. “Mr. Rossi didn't give her the extension.”
Aaron cursed. Hailey didn't have the heart to scold him.
Jennifer Jareau had been her first friend when she and Aaron had moved to Mission Springs from the East Coast. While other women had smiled politely then made snide remarks behind her back about the “city snob,” JJ had been kind and straight-forward, always willing to offer a hand. Hailey had been nearly as happy for JJ when she'd married Will Lamontagne as the bride herself, and almost as equally devastated when the man had died. For the last several months the Hotchner's had done what they could to help JJ keep the ranch, including watching Henry while JJ held classes, but apparently it hadn't been enough.
Henry jumped into JJ's arms, fearless as only little boys could be in the face of a nearly five foot fall. JJ held him tightly, momentarily overcome. Hailey reached out, gently squeezing her shoulder. “Come into the store and tell us.”
JJ set Henry down, the boys taking off once more into the store, and followed Aaron and Hailey inside.
“Strauss foreclosed and sold the property. There was nothing more Mr. Rossi could do.”
Hailey and Aaron shared a look, an unspoken conversation passing easily between them. “Well, then you'll just have to come and stay with us for a while until you get back on your feet,” Hailey offered.
“No, no I couldn't,” JJ demurred. “I'll just take a room over at Miss Letty's.”
“Nonsense. You're staying with us.” Aaron's tone made it clear he wasn't taking no for an answer.
JJ wanted to argue, really she did, but it felt as if she'd been pushing back the ocean for months now. It would be nice to rest a bit and let someone help shoulder the burden, if only for a few weeks. “If you're sure you don't mind having another little ruffian running around,” she smiled, not quite hiding her relief at their offer. “It'll only be for a few weeks I promise.”
“It'll be for as long as you need,” Hailey countered, taking her hands and squeezing.
JJ blinked away tears, whispering, “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed,” Aaron assured her with a soft smile, one of the few he ever graced anyone with other than his wife. “Besides, Jack loves having him around.”
The adults turned to look at the boys, discovering instead that only Jack was sitting on the floor of the store playing with a tiny carved horse that Derek Morgan had made for him one afternoon.
“Henry? Henry?”
“He couldn't have gotten far. He's probably just hiding.”
“Jack, where did Henry go,” Aaron asked his son. The younger Hotchner merely shrugged and pointed toward the door.
JJ bolted outside. Henry wasn't amongst the barrels of beans and bushels of apples. “Henry? Henry, come to Mama!”
Still, there was no answer, and worse, no sign of the boy.
Dread crept up JJ's spine, like a thunderstorm building in the distance, rumbling.
No, not a thunderstorm, JJ realized. That wasn't the rumbling...
Head whipping around, she spotted her toe-headed little boy purposefully chasing a lizard in the middle of the street just as the stage coach turned the corner and barreled forward.
“Henry!”
JJ ran.
Aaron ran.
Hailey ran.
All of them knew they'd never make it in time.
Henry caught the lizard and grinned, turning to hold up his prize in victory to show JJ, the horses thundering toward him unheeded. JJ screamed, unable to look away even as her knees buckled under her.
JJ heard the stagecoach's brakes squeal, the horses giving protest. And then, a flash of black. A cloud of dust. Like an angel, or maybe a demon, a horse and rider charged full-out toward the stagecoach, plucking Henry up out of the street in one smooth, perfect turn before easily galloping to safety. The stagecoach continued its charge right by them, the dust momentarily obscuring the street.
Hailey helped JJ stand, each of them holding the other for support as the cloud dispersed around them and the horse and rider trotted easily up the street, Henry laughing and smiling in the saddle, still proudly holding his captured lizard.
“I believe this belongs to you?”
The rider handed Henry down to JJ and for a moment JJ wasn't sure whether she should scream or cry. Instead, she merely grabbed her son and locked him in a death-tight hug. “My God, I can never thank you enough. You saved my son's life.”
The rider shifted in the saddle and tipped her hat back.
JJ's knees nearly went out on her again.
Brown eyes, intelligent and deep enough to drown in, stared back at her. There on the street, surrounded by a dozen or more people, in that moment, JJ felt as if she'd been laid bare, alone. As if there was no one else in the world but her and this stranger. And she knew, somehow she knew, that no one would ever know her as well as this stranger did, right then, in that moment, if she lived another fifty years.
The stage coach driver yelled for Aaron. The stranger blinked. Her horse pawed the ground impatiently, tossing her head once. “Easy, Hasiba.” The stranger leaned down, crooning something softly to the mare in a language JJ had never heard before.
“Thank you,” JJ said again, still holding Henry tightly, despite his squirming.
The slightest of nods was the only indication the dark-eyed woman had heard her. Without another word the stranger clicked her tongue and the horse set off again, JJ and Hailey staring at her open-mouthed while Henry waved 'bye-bye.'
*
Penelope Garcia knew trouble when she saw it, and the woman who walked into her saloon was trouble personified.
Beautiful, but absolute, no questions needed, trouble.
Black hat tucked down over sable hair, black duster that covered a white button down shirt and black, heavy trousers. Two Colt .45 Peacemaker's sat upon her hips, their heavy leather gun belts only made heavier by the several rounds of ammunition adorning them.
Penelope glanced toward the bar and saw her lover, and barman, Kevin squirm uncomfortably as the woman took a seat at the bar and slid coins toward him.
“Uh, what'll it be, ma'am?”
“Whiskey.”
Penelope motioned for one of her girls to come take her place at the poker table and headed for the bar, flashing Kevin a reassuring smile before plucking the bottle of whiskey from his hand and pouring the woman's drink herself. “There ya go, honey.”
The woman nodded and tossed back the liquor, setting the shot glass down for a refill. Penelope easily obliged her request. “New to town?” The woman nodded again. Again, she took a shot. Again, Penelope refilled the glass. “Planning on staying, or just passin' through?”
A third shot was done away with. “Why do you care?”
The woman held the glass up yet again but Penelope pulled the bottle back. “Not sure if you noticed, but you walked in less than five minutes ago and already you have most of my customers scared shitless. If you're planning on staying, they'll need to get used to you. If you're just passin' through, well, a drink on the house should ease any discomfort.”
“Sorry I'm discomforting your patrons,” the brunette grumbled.
“I'm not,” Penelope grinned, flashing the woman a brilliant smile. “People need a little discomforting every once in a while. Keeps us youthful and vibrant. Isn't that right my love?”
Kevin smiled and kept his distance.
“What's your name sugar?”
“Prentiss.”
“Prentiss? Did your parents hate you?”
“That's a distinct possibility.”
Penelope quirked another smile. Trouble, all right. No doubt about it.
“What's your first name, honey?”
Prentiss held out her glass again. Penelope filled it. Shot number four went down as easily as shots one through three. “Emily. Emily Prentiss.”
“Nice to meet you, Emily Prentiss. I'm Penelope Garcia, proprietor and saloon mistress.”
Prentiss took the outstretched hand, surprised by the firmness she found there, the calluses evident on Penelope's fingers and palm. Done up in more sequins and feathers and lace than by rights any woman should have worn in her lifetime, much less all at once, the frippery couldn't conceal that Penelope was a hard worker. The ink on her fingers told Emily that she was literate and kept her own books, a rarity the farther west she'd come.
“I've been travelling a while,” Prentiss explained clumsily. “There a place around here to clean up? A boardinghouse? Barbershop?”
“Well, there's a barbershop, sure, but I've pretty sure you'll scare Mr. Andersen to death if you walk in with those six-shooters. And there's no way Miss Letty is letting you into her boardinghouse wearing trousers, sorry to say.”
“Perfect.”
“Did I say all hope was lost? I've got perfectly good rooms upstairs and a perfectly functioning tub.”
“You gonna charge me by the hour,” Emily asked dryly.
“Oh, Miss Prentiss, we don't know each other nearly well enough for that yet. By the day should do just fine.”
*
Emily sunk into the steaming hot bath, releasing a bone-weary sigh. Miss Penelope had left the bottle of whiskey in her care; she managed to wait all of three minutes before pouring herself another hefty dose, sipping the liquor this time as her muscles loosened.
Someone had slipped lavender bath salts into the water. It triggered a memory of her mother sitting at her vanity table, dabbing lavender water behind her neck - her father's favorite scent. As a child, she would sit on her parent’s bed and watch her mother dress for an evening out, entranced by the glittering jewelry, the fine dresses. On those nights she was under strict orders to behave the governess and go to bed without fuss, but Emily always managed to wrangle herself an extra hour to stay up, sitting in her father's library. She read Aesop's Fables, and Grimm's Fairytales, and told herself she wasn't frightened of monsters in the dark.
Thirty years later she was still telling herself that.
Bathing in a whorehouse in Wyoming drinking liquor... oh, if her Mother saw her now...
Emily sighed again, slipped deeper into the water, and took another drink. She closed her eyes and pictured the blonde woman's face again - terror and gratitude filling cornhusk blue eyes. Emily wasn't sure if she imagined the spark that passed between them, maybe it was just the rush of charging full out toward a thundering stage coach that had her blood up, but she could still feel her heart trip inside her chest when she pictured the other woman. For some reason, when she did think of her, the scene changed from a busy street to a green field cresting into a small hill at the horizon; instead of the look of terror, there was a warm, loving smile on the blonde's face.
“Stop that,” Emily muttered to herself. “You're too old for daydreams.”
The bath and the booze had loosened up muscles nearly sent into spasm from weeks spent riding across the country. Hasiba, her Arabian mare, had let her displeasure be known early about travelling by rail, but Emily had managed to bribe her well enough with sweet oats and plenty of apples and sugar cubes. Once they'd gotten out into open country the horse had lightened up, taking in the terrain with the same curious interest Emily had. It was a hell of a long way from French Algiers.
A knock on the door stopped Emily from going down that trail of memories. A pretty redhead - the same one Emily suspected added the bath salts - poked her head around the door and smiled shyly. If she was a day over eighteen, Emily would eat her hat. “Just wanted to let you know Miss Penelope put your saddlebags in one of the spare rooms toward the back. It's nice, real private-like...”
“You mean it's in the back away from all the customers I'm scaring the hell out of,” Prentiss corrected with a smile.
The redhead blushed, something Emily was certain she didn't do often. “You'd have to ask her about that.”
“Is there a good livery around to stable my horse?”
“You'll want Derek Morgan's place,” the girl answered without hesitation. “Best place for miles, best blacksmith too.” She eyed Emily's clothing lying on a pile by the floor. “I know a good laundry too, if you want. I can have them back to you by end of the day.”
“I appreciate it.”
Gracefully, the girl swept into the room and snagged up Emily's clothes, only stopping once to eye what she could through the cloudy bath water and another time to eye the guns within arms reach on a chair.
“What's your name,” Emily asked as she girl scooted toward the door.
The girl looked back over her shoulder, a practiced, coy move Prentiss was certain she'd learned from the older women in the saloon. “Beth.”
“Thank you, Beth.”
Another blush. The door clicked shut.
Oh, yeah, Emily thought. If only her mother could see her now...
Part Two