Chapter Text
Jongler was getting sick of traveling.
For weeks, it had been just them and their horse on the open road as they headed down to Texas. Their contract as a farmhand at a ranch in Iowa had run out, leaving them with nothing to do but wander around in search of another. The Great Plains were as advertised, they supposed: big and plain.
They had enough supplies for a few weeks of camping in the country, but their food supply was reaching an end. There was no easy foraging out here, which left them with one thing to do: find somewhere to resupply.
The little town on the horizon couldn’t have come at a better time. It was hardly a blot on Jongler’s map (labeled Last Hope), but all they needed was a place to lay their head down and resupply.
At times like these, they regretted ever leaving home. At least in New York, they always had a bed to sleep in. Not much work, though.
That was how they found themself here, in the middle of nowhere. There was always work, if you went far west enough. Plenty of their pals had talked about it: Taking down outlaws and winning those huge bounties seemed like an easy way to earn their living.
Jongler wasn’t so convinced. They were no gunslinger. Sure, they had a slugger tucked in their holster, but it was more for show than for anything else. One of their buddies back in the city, who was always getting into trouble with the law, seemed a little too eager to get rid of the big gun, so Jongler took it off his hands and headed west.
From there, they had gone from contract to contract, earning just enough to make it to the next one. It wasn’t glamorous living, by any means, but it was better than sitting around and waiting for opportunity to knock.
As they made their way into Last Hope, it became clear that it wasn’t a place where anyone seemed to settle down. The area just outside the town’s limits was full of tents. Travelers trying to skirt the inn fee, they supposed. It wasn’t a bad idea, but they had enough money to choose the more comfortable option: an actual room and bed.
The streets were full of other ranchers—Jongler had never seen more people on horseback in one place. Main Street was full of shops, but there didn’t seem to be much permanent lodging.
Jongler wasted little time paying for their horse’s spot in the stable and claiming a room for themself at what seemed to be the second-best inn. Instead of just collapsing into bed, like they usually did, they decided to spend some time in town. They needed to see some other faces—it was a little pathetic to admit, but it had been a while.
Curiously, this town had a gambling hall: Card Castle. That was new—they had seen a few poker tables in saloons before, but nothing like this. This was the real deal. It didn’t look much like a castle, but they’d take it. They didn't have much to gamble with, but hopefully the ante wasn't too high.
They were about to push the door open when they heard someone coming from behind them. They held the door open for them.
“After yous,” they said, nodding once in acknowledgement. They contemplated tipping their hat but thought better of it.
The person—an old man—grunted in acknowledgement and went inside. Better than nothing. Jongler followed them in.
The inside of the gambling hall wasn’t like the ones they had seen in New York—leather replaced the plush velvet that was ubiquitous in the city. There were no ornate, glassy crystal chandeliers here—this one was silver, at best. Of course, Jongler hadn’t been able to afford the ante at the places they were familiar with in the city; they had just worked security there and stood by the door looking tough.
Most of the tables were full of rough-looking customers—real, authentic cowboys, rangers, and put-together professional gamblers. Jongler passed by those tables, keeping their head down. No thanks.
There was one table in the very back that was empty, except for the dealer, who was just shuffling cards.
She was cute. Small, with short, light hair that curled around her face, framing it. She was in the same uniform that the other dealers wore, of course, but she had a green vest rather than a red one. It hugged her waist, the fit matching her black flared slacks.
The city poker dealers were much slicker; they’d never be found without a smile. This one’s mouth was flat as her hands flipped through the cards with practiced ease.
Jongler wondered why nobody was at her table, feeling a tug on their heartstrings. Maybe she was new.
Resolved, they made their way over.
“Howdy,” they said, taking a seat at the table. The dealer looked at them, but instead of smiling with a hint of gratitude (like they had imagined), she glared at them.
“Hey. You wanna join a table that, I don’t know, has anyone actually there? I’m off in ten.” She said shortly, sounding unamused.
Ouch.
Jongler blinked, taken aback. They were beginning to understand why her table was empty.
“I, uh, well…” Jongler said, trying to bring it back. “I’m okay here,” they shrugged, leaning back in their chair.
“You do know that you can’t play poker alone,” she said slowly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Dat’s alright, I… uh,” Jongler stumbled over their words. “I’m… not here to play poker.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?” She snapped, setting the cards down. “You wanna play faro? Five-card stud? Same deal there.”
Jongler had never heard of those games before. The casino they (briefly) worked at didn’t have anything like that. But it was clear that she was about to tell them to get lost—they needed to think fast. They had to play something.
“Blackjack?” They offered, trying not to sound too desperate.
“Oh, yeah,” the dealer said, meekly, “that works.”
Jongler breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed to them like she had forgotten that it was an option. They settled into their chair, waiting for the dealer to start setting up the game.
She cleared her throat, gesturing vaguely for them to do something. After a second of them just staring at her, she rolled her eyes and explained, slowly.
“If you want to play, you gotta let me see it.”
“…it?” Jongler wasn’t following.
“You ain’t that bright, aren’t you?” The dealer said, narrowing her eyes in annoyance. “Gun on the table. That’s the rule.”
And yous ain’t that nice, they wanted to say.
“Why?” They asked.
“So I can see if you reach for it, bozo,” the dealer said flatly. “Ya just roll into town, or what?”
“Well, yeah, I did,” Jongler responded, pulling their gun out of their holster and setting it on the table. The dealer’s eyes widened as she saw the size of it.
“W-well, welcome, then,” the dealer said, picking up the deck of cards to shuffle them. “So, whaddya do for work? Must be something interesting, with a gun like that…”
Now, the dealer was paying much more attention to them. Jongler met her eyes, stomach fluttering at the sudden interest.
They couldn’t help it; it had been a while since anyone had looked at them like they were the only other person in the room.
They couldn’t waste this opportunity to tell her that they were just an out-of-work farmhand. She’d lose interest. What was better?
“I really shouldn’t tell yous, but…” they whispered, doing a come here motion with their fingers. They grinned as the dealer leaned in to hear. “I’m a bounty hunter.”
The dealer gasped softly, her eyes widening to stare at them. Jongler shrugged and nodded, trying to be nonchalant.
“That makes so much sense,” the dealer hissed, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re undercover! I was wondering why you were pretending to be so stupid…”
“Well-”
“If, hah, I may be so bold, who’re you going after right now?” She kept going, ignoring their attempt to interject. “You must be tracking someone if you’re all the way down here, right?”
Jongler had thought that this town wasn’t that far out of the way, but that showed how much they knew.
“Or can you not say? Are they here?!”
“Yous better keep your voice down,” Jongler chided, speaking lowly. “You never know who’s listenin’. Especially in a place like dis.”
“Let’s take this outside,” she said, nodding eagerly.
Now, this was moving a little too quickly. They hadn’t expected her to be so interested in their lie; they figured it was just a way to get their foot in the door! They couldn’t keep this up for long.
“I thought yous was working?” They tried, schooling their face into a neutral expression.
“…right, well, I was. I’m off now.” She made eye contact with someone across the room and pointed at her table. Jongler turned to look; whoever it was nodded and gave her a thumbs-up.
Did she just ask someone to cover for her?
“J-just hold on a minute. I don’t even know your name-”
“Battat. Yours?” She smiled, quickly packing the deck into a box and slipping it into her pocket.
“Jongler,” they responded, not having much choice.
“…really?” Battat didn’t seem to try very hard to disguise her disbelief.
She’s real lucky that she’s cute. Jongler didn’t think they’d be able to take this otherwise.
“Yous can just call me Jon,” they said, unable to help themself. It was a nickname that only a few people called them, but…
“Thank God. Let’s go, Jon.” Without warning, Battat got up and started heading for the door.
Jongler followed her out of the gambling hall, trying to think of an alibi. What would a bounty hunter be doing here? Hunting a bounty, presumably.
The issue with that was that Jongler suddenly couldn’t remember any of the many ‘Wanted’ posters they had seen over the last few months. Maybe they could just let her do the talking.
Weaving their way through the crowd, Jongler almost lost sight of her. Luckily, they were tall enough to see the top of her head as she easily made her way through the masses.
On the street, the crowd thinned out. Battat was standing to the side, on the deck. When she saw that Jongler had followed, she led them behind the building to a small porch and sat on the top step. She patted the spot next to her.
Jongler felt their face get hotter—they were suddenly very thankful for the waning sunlight. They sat next to her.
“Nobody else ever comes back here. So… who’re you going after?”
“The guy dat I’m goin’ after… real nasty guy. Pays folks to take down his posters ahead of time. Got connections from coast to coast, dat’s how bad he is,” Jongler said, trying to conceal their nerves. They were shooting from the hip, here.
“What’s he like?” The dealer asked. Christ, she was hanging on their every word. Normally, Jongler would love that, but they didn’t want the scrutiny right now.
“Real gregarious type, ya never know if yous met him or not ‘till it’s too late, yeah?” They said, hoping it was vague enough to presumably be anyone. “But when he turns on ya… oh, boy, does he turn. He’s cold blooded, dat one.”
“I see… you’ve met him, then?”
“Uh-huh. Been chasin’ him all the way from New York to here. Got here too late dis time, too. I ain’t seen a trace of him in weeks.”
“What’s he done that’s earned him a bounty?’ She asked, tilting her head.
“He’s... a, uh, robber," they cleared their throat, "He’ll go around, make friends on the inside of these real nice places, and get dem to do his dirty work for him. He’s cleared out entire banks until all dey got left are mothballs.”
They felt themself getting a little carried away with the lie and realized that they really had to tone it down.
“I see. So… you’re chasing a string of robberies to try to get the ringleader. Are there patterns? Any tells?” She questioned, rapid-fire.
No, because they don’t exist! Jongler had to find a way to pivot, and fast.
“Yous are real interested in dis conspiracy stuff.”
“I… well, what can I say? News doesn’t travel fast enough around here,” she sighed, her frustration evident, “Everyone’s been all over the country, but, somehow, nobody knows anything worth knowing.”
“You from here?”
“No. Not by a long shot. I’m from Chicago.”
Suddenly, everything about her made so much more sense. They thought she was acting strange. Folks in the country tended to move a little slower than hustlers from the city, and here, she stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Were ya a dealer there, too?”
“No,” she said, chuckling. “I was a reporter.”
Jongler had to keep themself from saying “Ohhh…” out loud. That certainly explained her pushiness and constant sense of urgency. She was asking good questions, too—they were a little embarrassed that she had already gotten so much out of them.
What didn’t make sense, however, was that she had given up a reporting gig to work as a dealer in the middle of nowhere. From what they knew, reporters made decent money.
“So, how’d ya get yourself stuck here?” They asked, as tactfully as they could. She turned to look forward, facing the vast prairie rather than them.
“Well, I never meant to stay here long. Just a month, or two, to get my funds up before the rest of the trip. I was headed to California, and… it was more expensive than I thought it’d be,” she hesitated slightly. They were sure that there was more to it than that, but they weren’t going to pry. “My train ticket only got me here.”
“Makes sense. How long’ve you been here?”
“Two years,” she quietly, after a pause. She shook her head slightly, as if she couldn’t believe it. “God, it’s… really been that long, hasn’t it?” she whispered.
Jongler tried to hide the wave of shock that hit them at the answer. Last Hope didn’t seem like a place someone should be spending even six months in, if you didn’t own the gambling hall.
“Yous must have some funds saved up, at least,” they said softly, trying to offer a solution.
“I… yeah. Won’t do me much good, but… yeah, I do.” She shrugged noncommittally.
“Whaddya mean by that?” They asked. They didn't like how that sounded.
“I’m… not going to just leave, now. I was in such a hurry two years ago, but it’s… it doesn’t seem so urgent, now. What’s there that’s not here?”
“It… doesn’t sound like yous like it here,” they said, looking forward. The sun was setting over the prairie, casting everything in gold.
“Of course I don’t!”
“But… you don’t want to leave, either?”
They had a pretty good idea of what was really happening here. When you stay in one place for long enough, it gets much more difficult to start moving again.
“It’s just not worth the trouble,” she said shrugging. Despite the gesture, a little sorrow bled into her tone.
There went their heartstrings again.
“Yous are young. Don’t talk like dat.”
“Thanks, but… that’s easy for you to say. You’re always on the move.”
“Yeah, well… bein’ a bounty hunter ain’t all that. Being alone with your own thoughts is only fun for so long.”
It felt good to get it off their chest. It'd been so long...
“You travel alone,” she repeated, looking at them. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“How so?”
“You have that whole… ‘starved for human contact’ type of desperation you only see in solo travelers,” Battat said as if it were obvious, gesturing to them.
At least try to hide it!
“Yous got a real big mouth for someone so small,” Jongler huffed, shaking their head.
To their surprise, Battat laughed. It sounded genuine.
“Which way ya headed, anyhow?” Battat asked. “Back to New York?”
“Nah. I’m goin’ west.”
“Yeah?” Battat said. She looked like she had more to say, but she turned to look at the prairie again instead.
A silence fell over them for the first time since they had met each other.
“Yous are welcome to come with me,” Jongler said softly, hardly believing that they had really just offered that to a complete stranger.
“…yeah, maybe,” she said, after a moment.
“I’m serious. Sounds like we’re goin’ the same way anyways.”
“I… don’t have a horse,” she said. Jongler saw it for what it was: a lame excuse.
“We’s can get a train to a bigger town, and you can get yourself one.”
Battat shrugged again. She wasn’t taking their offer seriously.
“How about dis. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be waitin’ outside the stable for a while for yous. Yous got the whole night to decide.”
Before Battat could reject them again, they got up. They did have other things to do.
“I gotta go buy some stuff. If you’s planning on coming, we can get your stuff tomorrow.”
Battat nodded, not looking at them.
***
The next morning, Jongler woke up a little later than they usually did. They took their time getting ready, having their morning coffee, and doing some personal grooming in the mirror.
They took even longer to get to the stable to saddle up. They took the long way around Last Hope, hitting just about everywhere that they hadn’t yesterday. There wasn’t that much to see.
When they got to the stable, Battat wasn’t there. Jongler hadn’t expected that she would be, not really. It hadn’t kept them from hoping, though.
They paid the stableman the price for a night’s lodging, then saddled their horse up.
When they led their horse out of the stable, they saw a familiar figure standing by the stable doors. It was Battat. Instead of her sleek vest, she was wearing a green poncho that seemed a little too large for her.
“Yous really like green, huh?” Jongler said, coming up behind her.
Battat jumped, whipping back around to look at them. Jongler could see a flush spread on her face.
“I… thought I was too late,” Battat admitted, a small smile finding its way to her face.
“Aw. Dere’s no such thing,” they said, feeling a warmth spread through their chest. “C’mon. I’ll show ya what you’re gonna need to buy.”
“I was thinking that we could take the train from the next town over. It’ll get us further and… I read that they have a stable car. It goes straight to Denver.”
The warmth in their chest spiked even higher as they heard her say “us.” They nodded a little too eagerly.
“Dat sounds good. Denver it is. Uh, so… first of all, you’re gonna need a canteen.”
“Okay, yep. Makes sense. That’ll be at the general store.” Battat nodded vigorously.
Jongler smiled to themself as she started to lead them to the store. She seemed to be on top of things. That’s good to have in a partner.
Or a traveling companion, they amended. Buddy, even. Pal.
It was already getting difficult to keep their hopes in check.