This Town is Big Enough...

[Crocky Kirkland]

Arthur Kirkland groaned slightly in the fading heat, going down with the orange sun. He really hated the West, why in the world did his father send him there of all places. Arthur doesn't care to think about it, he needs a place to stay for the night and the hope no one will know who he was.

Getting off his light tan horse, Victoria (he was a very proud British man), wrinkling his noise at the fact of how sweaty the both of them were. He took the reins and led Victoria to a poster covered wall. His green eyes look over the pictures of criminals and advertisements. As far as he can tell, his face wasn't up. Then again he hadn't done many huge things, like kill any one. Maybe pick pocket some one here and there, or get money at gun point, and had pulled of one to two good heists. He was wanted, but not as bad as some it appeared. He smiled and some of the bounties, making a note to give a try.

He turned to Victoria and grinned, petting her nose, and couldn't help smiling as she nudged at him suddenly. "We sound find you some water," he said lovely, before turning and walking into town.

Arthur had no clue where in the world he was exactly. There were many small towns and he stopped caring about their names and more about how far they were. He walked to the Saloon, praying to anything, hoping there would a room for him and very, very, little bother. I nice cup of whiskey would be nice too, but water was sounded ten times nice to his dry mouth.

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred was a man of simple pleasures. He didn’t need riches or beautiful women to show off in order to be happy. Give him the untamed wilderness and the prospect of adventure and he was set for life. It really came as no surprise to anyone the day he decided take on the position of sheriff in a dusty town in the middle of the wild west. The eager nineteen year old could think of nothing better then spending his days protecting the innocent from the shady bad guys who littered the west. He imagined daring rescues, shoot-outs with big time crooks, and becoming a legend all his own. However, when he arrived, he soon realized that most of the criminals were petty and hardly worth pulling out his sharp-shooting skills to handle. Half the time he would just drag their intoxicated forms into the town jail for a couple of weeks until they repaid their debt to society.

Still, where the young American found disappointment, he also found beauty. The west was a paradise all its own. There was something very rewarding about riding out in the scorching heat for hours on end and being rewarded with a sunset of colors so stunning that he could scarcely find the words to describe them. Even though his position as town sheriff was little more then a joke, Alfred did not have the heart to leave the west. Something was keeping him there, and he was determined to meet whatever it was head on with guns blazing.

The blond kicked up a pile of dust as he hopped down from the porch railing. The sun was setting, which more often then not meant that the men of the town had gathered together at the saloon to drink their hardships alright. Alfred fought back the urge to sigh. That meant one or more would inevitably start some sort of trouble meaning he (as the sole form of law enforcement) would have to be there in order to break it up before somebody ended up shot. It was a thankless job, but it was his thankless job. He shoved his hands into his faded jeans and began to stroll carelessly down the street towards the rowdy bar. Day in and day out it was the same routine. Even though he had fallen in love with this land, there was a part of him that was tired of waiting. He would waste his life if all he was meant to accomplish out here was handling drunkards with guns. There had to be something else out there.

The sound of footsteps shook him out of his thoughts. Alfred raising his head, already prepared to see one of the few townspeople who actually respected him enough to alert him that the trouble had began again. He was pleasantly surprised to see that was not the case. Instead a lithe figure of a blond stranger was heading towards the saloon, a look weariness about him that always came with a long journey. Well, this was new. Immediately Alfred changed his course so he would end up cutting the man off before he reached the bar. The young man then straightened his back and put on a cocky grin and the copper star pinned proudly on his chest, naming his position. “Well hello there stranger. I haven’t seen you around these parts. How can I be of service to you?”

[Crocky Kirkland]

The town wasn't much, in fact that there few people out. He found himself strangely fine with that, less bother. He might actually sleep well tonight. He back ached as a reminder of the nights he slept on the rocky grown of the West.

Arthur was somewhat lost in his joy that there for few people that he didn't notice the man approaching him till Victoria nudged at him, and become perkier with someone else around. Arthur looked up rather frightened by the idea of someone walking up to him.

His green eyes came to set on a tall, built, sunny blonde haired man. The man was probably in his late teens. Hardly a man He thought to himself, seeing the boyish features on his face. Arthur found himself getting somewhat sucked into the teen's sky blue eyes, it almost hurt to tear his eyes way. His eyes traveled down. The teen was dressed in faded jeans and the usual attire of cowboys Arthur's grown use to. Nothing like he remembered back home in England. A flash on the man's chest catches his eyes and his heart drops.

Arthur was sucked into his shock so quickly he almost didn't hear what the man asked. Relax, Arthur, he hasn't noticed you or anything. Be calm. He told himself.

"Hello," Arthur said oddly, his accent clearly shinning through, tugging his hat down a bit, trying to make it look like a small tip. "I just need a place to stay for the night," Victoria nudged Arthur roughly, like she knew he was lying, or she wanted him to keep walking. Arthur shot a glare at her. "You wouldn't mind if we walked over to some water?" Arthur found himself asking as he brought his hand up to Victoria's nose to calm her.

[Sheriff Jones]

It appeared the man was too busy taking in the scarce surroundings to notice him right off the bat. The town certainly wasn’t much to ride home about, but if this man had been traveling in the vast wilderness, civilization of any kind may have come as a relief to him. Al was about to speak again when the stranger meet his gaze, causing him to promptly forget how to formulate any coherent thought. How could anything be that green? The American couldn’t remember a time he had seen a color so vibrant in a world filled only with dust and dirt. Suddenly he was brought back to his childhood, to the garden his mother tended to with such care. He remembered how he used to stare out the window for hours, looking at the tall green vines climbing up the side of the house. He used to imagine climbing up them and having grand adventures...

A calm, accented voice broke through his daydream. For a moment, all Alfred could do was stare stupidly at the cause of his sudden trip down memory lane before remembering what he was doing in the first place. The sheriff laughed loudly and rubbed the back of his dirty blond hair, trying to conceal the fact that he had been in a completely different world not a moment ago. “Ah right. Well I can fix you up at the inn down the street if you would like. The owner is a mighty fine cook, if I do say so myself. As for your horse, there’s a stable just down the way,” he said, pointing out the small building at the end of the road. “There’s plenty of water, she can drink to her hearts content.”

Alfred paused for a moment to let the stranger consider what he had just said, taking the opportunity to look him over. He was shorter by a couple inches, lithe in form, and had absolutely huge eyebrows, but he could see this man was no pushover. The accent threw him off more then anything though - he most certainly wasn’t from the United States. English was his guess, but that didn’t explain how he had ended up all the way out here. Most foreigners preferred to live in more established settlements, unless they were looking for cheap land and little authority. But this man didn’t seem to fit that description. If anything, he sounded like he was fairly well off, or had been at one time. Strange, but he liked the idea of discovering the story of the green eyed man.

“As for you stranger, the town saloon isn’t more then a few buildings away. I would be more then happy to take you there and buy you a drink myself. Think of it as a welcome to this humble town of mine.” He turned his back to the man and was about to lead the way to the stables when an embarrassing realization crossed his mind. His name. All that talking and he hadn’t even remembered to properly introduce himself! Whipping back around, Alfred gave the foreigner a bright smile and puffed out his chest proudly. “Alfred F. Jones at your service. I’m this town’s sheriff and a legend in the making! Pleasure to meet you!” He said, offering his hand out, “Care to tell me your name, stranger?”

[Crocky Kirkland]

The Sheriff seemed like an awkward sort of person, and Arthur had a sudden feeling the teen wasn't paying much attention to his words. Arthur lets out a sigh, its was rather relieving, the man didn't recognize him.

Arthur's eyes followed the man's finger, fixing on the small building. It seemed reasonable, he hoped everything wasn't too expensive, he had little money left from his least "scam", if that was even the right word. However if the inn was too much, he honestly won't mind staying with Victoria, after all she was the only true friend he had now. He would much rather she be comfortable than himself.

"Lovely," he muttered, before find the other wasn't really listening.

His grip on her reins tightened, as Arthur looked back the Sheriff. He would have to look at the prices, before doing anything else. He found the Sheriff looking him over, and he oddly tensed up. Why was he so on edge, he didn't see his face or name on any of the posters. He caught the man's words and attempted to hide a smile. A free drink, there really was a God. The Sheriff turned in the direction of the stables and Arthur was about to follow when he suddenly turned around and introduced himself.

It was one bloody long title. Half of it sounded made up, just what Arthur needed. "The bloody egotistical American." He muttered to himself.

Arthur swallowed, glancing at the man's, Alfred's hands. What did he say back. I'm Arthur Kirkland, Business man turned crock, would not fly will with the Sheriff. He wasn't even sure if Arthur Kirkland would fly.

"Nice to meet you, Sheriff Jones," His said attempting to keep his nervousness at bay, he hoped it came out like he was just flat out exhausted. "You can call me Arthur, and this is Victoria." Arthur said petting Victoria's mane, grinning at her.

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred couldn’t help but grin happily as he flawlessly finished his introduction. It flowed just the way a true legend’s would, although he had to work on his timing a bit. Nonetheless, he hadn’t a doubt in his mind that the British man in front of him was impressed. After all, who wouldn’t be? He nineteen years old and already on his way to making it big as one of the greatest sharp-shooters in the west, determined to bring peace and order to a world without none! It was what he had always dreamed about as a child, and although he had hit a few minor snags on the way to getting his name out there, he was still on his way.

A low mumble once again pulled him out of his thoughts before he went off imagining some fantastic daydream, starring himself as the brave hero of course. Alfred blinked, staring at the green eyed man in some confusion. “What was that?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. Ah well, it was probably nothing important, but if it was a compliment, he would have liked to hear it. After all, it was rare he had a new audience to show off to. Maybe later and opportunity would arise where he would get to prove his worth as a sheriff (although the best he could hope for in this town would be a drunken bar-fight, which were hardly good for showcasing his skills with a gun). Still, it would be nice to leave a lasting impression. That way, when this foreigner decided to move on, he could spread the word about the fearless Alfred F. Jones, sheriff extraordinaire!

The young man continued to smile as the stranger finally introduced himself as Arthur. The name registered somewhere within his memory, but nothing specific came up, so he dismissed the detail immediately. It was probably of no consequence anyway. “Good to meet you Artie,” He said with a grin before turning his attention to the horse. “And you as well, Lady Victoria. She is a beauty, if you don’t mind my saying so. I’ve got a mare myself.” He laughed a bit and rubbed the back of his head with his gloved hand, a nervous habit he picked up when he talked too much. “But let’s get her set up. I imagine she’s tired from traveling.” Without another word, he lead the way proudly to the little stable. It wasn’t much, but it was part of his town so he still looked at it with a certain fondness. Alfred opened up the gate so that Arthur could walk the horse in at his will. Leaving the man to his own devices for a moment, he easily dragged buckets of water into a large tin container and pile hay in another. Once he was satisfied, he moved out of the way to let the horse through when she pleased. “There you are ma’am. Hope it’s to your liking.” He said, chuckling a bit.

Giving both the horse and the master an honest smile, he turned his attention to a different mare, a few stalls down. She was a rich brown color with white splashes along her face and backside, giving her a sweet appearance. She was Alfred’s pride and joy. “Hey there girl.” He murmured, combing his fingers through her black mane. She blinked and nuzzled into his hand a bit before turning away. Al just laughed and threw some hay into her tin for later. “Fair enough. I understand you’re tired.” He gave the horse another playful pat before turning his attention back to his guest. “I suppose I should give you that drink I promised, shouldn’t I? I hope you can stand the noise. Folks here tend to get a bit crazy with the alcohol.” He warned, although his face was still relaxed. Nothing he couldn’t handle, of course, and if the night went like he hoped it did, he would get a chance to prove it.

[Crocky Kirkland]

Honestly does this man even pay attention, Arthur thought with a sigh. He watched as Alfred caught what he muttered but laughed it off, while rubbing the back of his neck. Arthur rolled his eyes.

And does the git ever stop smiling. It wasn't a bad smile, but didn't Alfred have something better to do with his face. It was growing annoying, and Arthur's thick brows were starting to twitch from it.

"Arthur," He corrected, if there was one thing he hated was the shorting of his own name. And yet Alfred put "Lady" in front of Victoria, and still he shortened his name. Victoria shock her head suddenly, causing Arthur to jump a bit.

He didn't noticed the man was walking towards the stables, till he was a few meters away and Arthur hurried after him, if the Sheriff even noticed. The caught up rather quickly, and he was surprise but the odd, gentlemanly gestures Alfred was giving Victoria. Alfred collected water and food for her, while Arthur was taking off his things, her saddle and reins. He stuck he head of the stall, and found Alfred loving on another horse. Arthur found himself grinning.

"What's her name?" He asked oddly, unable to stop the question before it left his lips. Why was he even asking, he didn't really care? Did he? He blushed and ducked back into the stall quickly and slipped on some hay. Victoria sounded loudly, like she was laughing at him. Arthur straightened himself up and grinned at her loosely.

"That would be lovely," Arthur said once he was sure Victoria was settled and happily drinking and eating. Arthur could care less about the noise if it meant a free drink. "How much is the stay for Victoria?" He asked taking of his hat and fanning himself with out thinking.

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred glanced towards the brown mare, who was settling down in her stall to rest for the night. Poor girl, she must be so bored being cooped up here for so long. He usually tried to ride her at least once a day around the town, but that wasn’t much of a ride. He longed to saddle her up and take her out for a long ride out into the vast wilderness. Together they would brave the elements and become throughout the west as a symbol of justice. One day, he thought to himself with a sigh. One day they would have the life he always dreamed of.

“Hmm?” He asked, glancing back towards Arthur and Victoria. “Oh! This is Liberty. She’s one of the greatest horses in the entire west, and she’s the best friend a man could have.” Alfred gave the large animal a loving pat on her back. She took a step back towards him and decided to give her affectionate owner another nuzzle. He chuckled and looped an arm over her neck, rubbing her ears. “Now, now girl. I don’t have any treats for you today. I’ll see what I can get for you later.” He promised, giving her one last pat on the head. Once Liberty was taken care of, Al headed back towards the front of the barn. At the Englishman’s question, he stopped and turned to look over the set up he made for Victoria. He considered it briefly before shrugging. “Not a dime. It’s been so long since we’ve had anybody find this town, I’m just glad to see a new face. You’ve relieved a bit of my boredom, so I’ll cut you a deal. Now come on stranger, I’d like to hear your story.”

Not waiting to hear a reply, the young sheriff was out the barn door, strolling over to the town’s very own saloon. Even from a few blocks away he could clearly hear the ruckus. Looks like nearly everybody was out tonight, not that it was any surprise. People surrounded by a whole lot of nothing tended to relay on alcohol to cure them of loneliness. Although he couldn’t make himself go down that road, he understood the temptation. It was hard living out here. He wasn’t much respected in town, both for being too young and eager to please as well as holding the title of sheriff. Even without all that, there wasn’t anyone he particularly felt any connection to. His dream of becoming a legendary hero was often scoffed at, so he found solitude more comforting then constantly facing the ridicule. Yes, he understood using alcohol as a way to escape, but he would be stronger then that. For the sake of the only thing he held dear, he would be stronger then that.

Pushing open the door to the saloon, Alfred immediately went towards the bar. The place was just as loud and crowded as he suspected, so he hardly slowed when the townspeople glanced up at him curiously. They were probably just as surprised as him to see a new face, but he offered no answers. He had none himself. But hopefully this man, this Arthur would be willing to relay a few tales. Any news at all of what this world had to offer would be appreciated. Alfred took a seat at one of the many stools and waved the bartender over. “Two whiskey’s,” he muttered. Within moments, two glasses sat before him, filled to the brim with amber liquid. He nudged one towards his right and took a swig of it before glancing towards his guest. “So, tell me your story.” He said, blue eyes twinkling with curiosity.

[Crocky Kirkland]

Arthur's heart sank more and the fact that Alfred wanted to know about him. Arthur couldn't tell him the whole story. The fact that his father sent him to America and told him to take the business there. Then when it crashed and burned in his face, his father shut the door and cut strings.

He sighed, following after the Sheriff trying to think of something that would be reasonable to explain how he kept money coming in. However he distracted himself to think about how he the stable was free for him at least. He had a feeling he was going to have to thank Alfred like crazy at the end of the day.

Following Alfred into saloon. As he entered Arthur stopped. The loud was loud and the people all looked like people who got drunk everyday. He somewhat wrinkled his noise. Suddenly had felt ever eye in the place was on him. He hurried to Alfred like a dog with a tail between it's legs.

Arthur happily took a glass, with a small thanks and took a good gulp. He was happy he had stronger liquor back in England. The memory of his father giving him a glass of some. "That's some good stuff, Arthur, you better drink it all."

Placing the cup down Arthur peeked over his shoulder before turning back at the Sheriff. "My stories not the best of stories." Arthur said turning his attention back to the glass. "What do you want to know?"

[Sheriff Jones]

If Alfred as a more perceptive man, he might have noticed how uncomfortable Arthur was with the idea of relating his entire story. He might have found it strange that he only gave his first name after the American spilled out his (rather impressive) title. He might have also noticed how the man said nothing about his generosity and instead stayed quiet throughout the walk to the saloon. However, Alfred F. Jones was not a perceptive man. He was loud, brash, and tended to act without thinking and was constantly suffering the consequences. So when the man did not immediately launch into some epic tale of his life, he did the only thing that seemed appropriate in this situation. He pouted.

“Aw please Artie? I bet you have some great stories! Just tell me what you’re doing out here in the west! I mean, you’re a traveler, right? Being out and about all the time with nothing but a horse and ambition... there can’t be much better then that!” He sighed dramatically and leaned his cheek against his hand. Yeah, that would be the life. “I don’t understand how you do it. I’m jealous though. It would be better then being stuck in this town...” Immediately upon saying that, he flushed and looked around to be sure that no one was listening in. “I mean, being the town sheriff is great and I do love being a hero to all these fine people,” he amended hurriedly, “I just sometimes wish I could do some more good then I am...”

Alfred went quiet after that, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass. The foreigner was probably irritated with him right now. He invites the guy out for a drink and instead of being a good sport, he basically hashes out all his dreams and disappointments right from the beginning. Man, he really needed to learn how to control his tongue. His mama always told him he was a bit of a loud mouth, but his head was too far in the clouds to ever pay much attention to her. Now it was too late.

“I apologize for going off like that.” He said, giving Arthur an honest smile as he ran his fingers through his sandy hair. “I tend to do that. Everybody always told me I’ve got a bit of a mouth of me.” He laughed at that and downed a bit more of the whiskey. “It’s not right of me to go out and make assumptions like that. I really would like to know about you. You seem like the best company to come around these parts in a long time. So... tell me what you want to tell me. I don’t mind what. I just want to talk.” Alfred gave the man a hopeful smile, looking almost sheepish at this point. The last thing he wanted to do was scare this man away. It had been so long since he had someone to talk to face to face. Anything Arthur gave him would be good, as long as he could listen. “Please?”

[Crocky Kirkland]

"First off, my name is Arthur," Arthur said firmly, tapping his finger on the wood of the bar to make a point. "Not Artie, or any bloody shortened version you think up."

Satisfied with his statement Arthur took another huge gulp, why in the world was he so attracted to alcohol. His green eyes watched the young sheriff, before grinning into the cup at the way he acted. This town was smaller than Arthur originally thought.

Arthur had studied the mind in school, just on the side for pleasure while his father pushed him and his brothers for business. He could tell Alfred didn't talk to many people, and he was getting the dump of it. Strangely he hadn't minded one bit.

He finished his glass before he opened his mouth again. "I don't mind much." Arthur said, feeling slightly looser. "I'm not exactly a traveler, if I was I would be on a bloody train in finer clothes." Arthur said tugging at his shirt, which he took from some over turned carriage. "I would have money to go...back." Arthur said his eyes looking into the empty glass, the lonely drops of whiskey joining thinly at the bottom. "I'm traveling around to find whatever...'work' I can." Arthur said with a sigh.

He glanced over his shoulder suddenly, there was the feeling of eyes, but there was the feeling of constant eyes. Everyone seemed to look away as he scanned lightly, but he still felt watched. He turned back to the sheriff.

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred grinned at the older man’s comment about his name. Honestly, he hadn’t even realized he had shortened the name - it had simply felt more natural then saying ‘Arthur’ all the time. From the way the British man acted, it seemed that he wasn’t used to relaxed company. Maybe he really did come from a good family. “I’m sorry about that Arthur. I’ll try and remember that in the future,” he said with a laugh, blue eyes twinkling. There was no guarantee he would remember. Alfred tended to forget anything he deemed unimportant. Ah well though, the man was kinda funny when he acted all irritated about something so minor. Maybe he should tease him a bit more to see how he reacted.

Deciding that given the circumstances, taunting the poor man was probably not the best course of action, Alfred opted to listen as Arthur spoke. His comment about the trains and clothes confirmed the Americans suspicions about his class status. Yes, he had been very well off and, from the sound of it, the drop into near poverty was a sudden one. A burning desire to ask what had happened began to form in the pit of his throat, but he fought the urge valiantly. “I see... I am sorry to hear that you’re struggling. Is there any kind of work you do in particular? I know this town isn’t much... but maybe I could help you find a stable job...” The thought of a wayward individual working so hard just to survive didn’t sit well with Alfred. Wasn’t this exactly what he why he had come to the west? To be a hero? If he could just help out one person, that would make everything worthwhile.

The sheriff finished off his whiskey and waved the bartender over to order two more. Giving Arthur the once over, he noticed a sort of discomfort in his face and how he glanced around the room, almost like he expected something bad to happen. “Are you alright? You seem kind of on edge.” Maybe it was the townspeople that were upsetting him. He could understand if that were the case. They weren’t exactly the most welcoming bunch of folks around, especially when they were intoxicated. Plus many of them had firearms strapped to their sides. If a fight broke out, more likely then not, shots would be fired. That was enough to make anyone nervous. “Don’t worry. You’re with a legend in the making, remember?” He said, patting the man on the shoulder, a happy grin on his face. “I can protect you from anything that comes around. I’m the world’s best sharp-shooter after all!”

[Crocky Kirkland]

Robbing people Arthur thought the instant the Sheriff asked the question. That and tricking people, fiddling with their minds thanks to his school studies, he could out wit people in the West.

He couldn't say that to Alfred though. Not when he had been, and still being, so nice to him. Not even when he was the Sheriff. "I'm not particularly good with any job...aside from dealing with money." Arthur said with a fake laugh, trying to hide the fact that he could rob Alfred and his town blind. He wouldn't, couldn't, do it though. "It's fine Sheriff Jones, I don't mind moving from town to town," Arthur said once again peeking over his shoulder. It meant less tabs on him and he was harder to find.

The sound of new liquid in his glass made him turn back, but not without catching the eyes that were constantly watching him. He went super tense, looking at the second glass and knowing he shouldn't so much as touch it, or his aim would be gone. He honestly thought he lost the man, apparently not.

Arthur scanned the area for alternate weapons to use, should the bounty hunter approach him. The Sheriffs words somewhat morphing into the background, and Arthur only caught the bit of the end. Try as Alfred might, he could protect Arthur from the law of the place. "That's good to know..." Arthur commented with shallow gulp at Alfred's comment to his shooting skills.

Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw the bounty hunter come next to him, his black shirt ever present. Arthur felt his eyes look down to the man's belt, seeing the gun ever present. Arthur cursed in his head, as he leaned forward and gripped a bottle of something just beyond the counter. Quickly he whipped it out, swinging it sharply into the bounty hunter's face.

The bar suddenly went quite from the sound of glass breaking, and Arthur knew all eyes were on them. Arthur watched the man stumble back for a second, then he bolted out of the saloon as quick as he could. Just catching the hunter growl out "Kirkland!" as he existed.

He cursed again, there went everything.

[Sheriff Jones]

It was obvious, even to Alfred at this point that the strange man wasn’t relaying any details of the life he lead. Perhaps he was simply embarrassed about having to move around all the time just to make due. His heart began to ache and the desire to help at any cost burned deeply within his heart. He had to do something. Anything at all. Perhaps he could set him up with a job handling the town’s money... although it wasn’t as if there was a much of that to begin with. Whatever people made here would soon be wasted away on liquor and women, so there wasn’t much of a profession in that. “I wish I could be of more help to you...” He said honestly, bright blue eyes filled with nothing but sympathy for the other man. “And please call me Alfred. Sheriff Jones is a tad bit too formal, don’t you think?”

Arthur kept glancing over his shoulder, his body language going from tense to completely on edge. It had the young sheriff more then a little worried now. “Hey Arthur?” He said quietly, trying to pull his attention back towards him. What could possibly have him so spooked? Even this group of townspeople couldn’t cause this much stress for the man. It must be something else entirely. Al glanced around, trying to spot whatever it was that had managed to claim Arthur’s undivided attention. He saw nothing. Inwardly cursing himself for being so damned unobservant, he tried to coax Arthur again. “We can leave if you want. I understand if you aren’t comfortable here... We can...”

Before he could finish his thought, the British man was suddenly moving. The bottle in his hand made a graceful arch in the air before smashing down against a nondescript man’s face. Alfred eyes widened and he unconsciously flinched back. The sound of glass meeting skin silenced the entire saloon and the man who had been struck stumbled back into a table. Arthur wasted no time and was out the swinging doors before the sheriff could even blink. Alfred sat there in muted awe and confusion for a long second, wondering what on earth had just transpired when a loud roar awoke him from his daze. Snapping to his feet, he had a pistol in each hand, both were pointed towards the bleeding mans chest. “Who the hell are you?” He growled in return, stepping in front of the doors to keep him from immediately going after Arthur. The other patrons had awaken from the shock a moment after Alfred did and were rushing out the door to escape any bullets that might fly their way. Before long, the entire building silent, leaving only the two men to stare each other down. Al flipped the safety off both his weapons, giving the man a warning look. “I’m giving you a chance to get the hell out of my town. I won’t tolerate you coming in and threatening anybody.” At least, that’s what he thought had happened. Arthur had bolted before he got a chance to really ask what he transpired.

The unknown man just grinned and pulled out his own gun, aiming it at his heart. Despite how much Alfred had dreamed of being in such a situation, good versus bad, a battle of life and death, the look in the man’s eyes terrified him. He had never been placed into a situation with stakes so high, and he could only pray that his skills with a gun would be enough to save his life if need be. “You are such a fool. You call yourself a sheriff, but you can’t even see when a criminal is staring you in the face.” Al frowned in confusion, but didn’t drop his weapon. Criminal? What on earth was he talking about? Of course he could spot the criminal! He was currently staring him down with the barrel of his gun. “Kirkland,” the man continued, nodding towards the doors where Arthur escaped from earlier, “He’s little more then a highway robber, but I intend to collect my bounty. As a man of the law, I expect you to either step aside and let me catch him, or die with a bullet in your chest. Your choice, little sheriff.”

Alfred’s gaze hardened at those words. He was lying, he had to be. Arthur wasn’t a criminal, he just didn’t fit the bill. Criminals were mean, unfeeling, cold, and unattractive. Arthur wasn’t any of those things! Wait, did he just call the green-eyed man attractive? Actually, this probably wasn’t the time to be thinking about something so trivial. He had an actual criminal to deal with. “The only bad guy I see here, is you. I don’t want to shoot you, but if you don’t put that gun down, I will have to. You aren’t getting to Arthur either, so just forget it!” The man shrugged in a ‘suit yourself’, kind of way and pulled the trigger carelessly. Alfred lunged to his right, barely missing a bullet to the chest. Dammit, this guy really was going to kill him! Taking cover behind an overturned table, he winced as a number of bullets embedded themselves into the wood behind him. What was he going to do? He had never been in a real fight before, and this guy obviously wasn’t going to stop until he was dead on the floor! It was kill or be killed... But Alfred had never killed before. He stared down at the pistols in his hands, trying to fight back the nervous shaking. He could do this... He could save himself, and Arthur. He had no other choice.

[Crocky Kirkland]

Arthur had always been a quick runner. He had to get out of town quick, at least for everyone's safety, as well as his own. He tore down the road, sliding into the stables and hurrying to Victoria. She seemed so content in the stall, attempting to make conversation with Liberty it seemed. She looked at him oddly though when he came through the door.

He quickly got her ready to be saddled up. Victoria didn't seem to happy about that, but she let him do it anyway. He struggled with the clasp on the saddle and cursed to himself for his rush.

The sound of gunfire made him freeze and turn his head towards the sound. A shiver ran down his spine. No! Arthur's knees grew weak and he fell from the weight of his own body. Victoria brought her head down, nuzzling at his from that cringed with each sound of gun fire. I'm not worth all this.

Without much thought after that, Arthur was on his feet, shoving Victoria's saddle off her back, and lightly patting her neck before walking out. His hand found his gun, flicking out the revolver and looking at his bullets. Five, he thought, he only needed one in reality.

He clicked them back in, and flicks the safety off, and walking back as quick as he could He noticed the figure of the bounty hunter firing as he back out the swinging doors. Arthur groaned to himself, waving bye to his freedom. Still he grinned at the fact, that gun shots were covering the noise of his approach.

Arthur fired his gun, the bullet burying itself in the shocked bounty hunter's leg. Causing the man to topple to the ground in pain. He cursed loudly, "Crocky Kirkland finally stops running," the bounty hunter said, his leg tightly in his hands.

Walking up to him Arthur blocked every emotion from his body. He kicked the man's gun away and cocked his gun, pointing it at his head as he towered over him. "What does it take to get you off my bloodly trial?" Arthur asked flatly, watching the bounty hunter pale. Arthur grinned, he had the upper hand now.

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred closed his fingers around the two pistols, silently willing his hands to stop shaking. As soon as he had an opening, he would jump in and shoot the gun out of the bounty hunter’s hand. He didn’t think he had it in him to take a life, but he couldn’t very well sit here and wait until a bullet drilled itself into his skull. Taking a deep breath, he stayed crouched on the balls of his feet until he heard a break in the gunfire. Snapping him, he whirled around to take aim, but was surprised to see the man on the floor, a hand pressed painfully against his leg. What the... That’s when he caught sight of Arthur, looking more like a predator stalking his prey then a man. The air stilled in his lungs as he watched the foreigner loom over the prone figure, a shiny revolver aimed directly at the man’s head.

“Stop!” He shouted, rushing over to grab Arthur’s hand. He couldn’t sit by and watch a man get killed, not when he could do something to prevent it. “He’s unarmed and injured, you don’t need to do this.” He tightened his grip marginally on the Brit’s hand, staring into his acid green eyes with a pleading look. “Let me take him. I can get him medical treatment and then have him locked up for attempted murder, but please don’t kill him.” Alfred glanced down at the pathetic man on the floor who had moments ago tried to put a bullet in his brain in order to Arthur. Even so, he didn’t believe that anyone deserved to die like this. If anything, the young sheriff pitied him. He knew from experience how difficult it was to make it out in the west. For all he knew, this man could have a family he was simply trying to provide for. There was no way he was going to condemn a man to death without knowing exactly what had caused him to act this way.

He slowly released Arthur’s hand and crouched down the check the man’s leg. He winced at the damaged, but at least it didn’t look like he would be losing that leg. “I’ll get you to the doctor. You should be alright, but we don’t want you losing too much blood.” If he waited too long to act, then there wouldn’t be much he could do to save him. Alfred slid his pistols back onto his belt and turned his attention back to the British man behind him. He didn’t look like a criminal. He just seemed to be a lonely sort of man trying to make his way in the world. Why did he have to be a criminal? Alfred’s gaze flickered down to his boots, trying to piece together what to do next. He was the town sheriff, it was obvious he should catch this guy and keep him from robbing anybody else but... it didn’t feel right. Arthur was one of the first people he had felt any sort of connection to since moving out to the west, how could he destroy any chance he might have had at a friendship? Maybe he was wrong. Perhaps this bounty hunter was after the wrong guy. Maybe the Arthur in front of him wasn’t a criminal. It was a long shot, but it’s the only one he had.

“Are you really what he says you are Arthur?” He asked quietly. “You can’t really be what he says you are. I mean, you wouldn’t do that, right Arthur?” He bit down on his bottom lip. Great, now he sounded pathetic. If this man really was a crook, he would probably start laughing in his face for being so stupid not to recognize the signs. Had he been planning on robbing the town blind? Had he planned on taking advantage of him? He really was a fool for being so trusting. Everybody always told him he would end up getting hurt this way. “Arthur?" He prompted, staring up at Arthur’s face, dreading the response he was sure to hear.

[Crocky Kirkland]

The moment Alfred gripped his wrist, the feeling of hatred for himself raced through Arthur's body. His hand was warm and calloused. It was gentle, but made his point very clear. Arthur's breath escaped him for some reason and his eyes widened. He saw the situation he was in and found it hard not to tremble. He knew he wasn't going to shot the man, he would purposely shot the floor board to the right of his head, but not the man.

Arthur back away from the man as he watched Alfred tend to him a bit. The railing stopped him. The Sheriff turned to him and he found himself trembling under the blue gaze. He could see the hurt in them.

Why do I care what he thinks about me? Arthur thought, but he really did. He wanted Alfred to think he was just some traveler passing through town. Of course, Arthur's life couldn't have things run that smoothly. It would have been nice. Arthur though, tearing his eyes away to look at the floor.

"It depends on what he said." Arthur said grimly. "I haven't killed anyone." He was somewhat proud he could at least say that. "But other than that...he's probably right."

Arthur sighed, "It would be best if you locked me up instead of him. He won't get the money, and I won't have to go to where the bloody hell he's going to take me."

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred’s heart dropped when he heard the truth. He really was a fool for being so damn trusting all the time. Wearing traveler indeed... He probably had been planning on taking advantage of his kindness and swindle him out of his money before riding out to the next town to pull a similar stunt on somebody else. No... no one else would be stupid enough to put so much faith into a person they had just met. Not like he had. “I see...” The young blond turned away and reached a hand underneath the injured bounty hunter. “Let’s get you situated first. The doctor’s not far from here. Just rest your weight against me.” The man nodded and Alfred helped him up so that he was standing on his good leg, resting heavily against the sheriff’s form.

Slowly they walked towards the door, Alfred careful not the go too fast for fear of causing the man more pain then necessary. Before reaching the threshold, he turned back towards Arthur. “I’m going now. If you want to run... I wont stop you. If you would like to stay for a bit and talk... please meet me on the porch of the last house on the next street over. I promise if you spare a few minutes... no one will cause you trouble. Although, I understand if you don’t trust my word.” He dropped his gaze back towards the ground and walked out the door. A part of him hoped Arthur would stay a bit longer so they could talk... so that maybe he could help him, but he doubted that very much. He had just admitted to being a crook, the last thing he probably wanted was to waltz over to the town’s sheriff’s house for a drink and some good conversation. Alfred laughed bitterly. Of course it had to happen this way. The first interesting person to come by, and he turned out to be a criminal. What wonderful luck. And he, despite all his claims to being a just man who would fight for freedom, couldn’t even bring himself to send him to prison for his crimes. He was pathetic.

The doctor took the injured bounty hunter in immediately and set to work on cleaning and stitching the wounds. Alfred stayed longer then necessary to watch, trying to avoid the disappointment that was sure to await him at home. After much of the man’s bleeding had stopped and a fresh bandage was placed around his leg, the young sheriff took his leave and walked very slowly down the dusty street. Arthur was probably long gone by now, laughing to himself how he fooled the little sheriff. Heck, he probably broke into his house too and made off with the little possessions he owned. Bracing himself for the worst, he stopped in front of the house, his eyes screwed shut. “I’m such an idiot...”

[Crocky Kirkland]

Why did the look on Alfred's face make his heart ache so much? Arthur groaned, the Sheriff's words echoing in his head, and Arthur had figured out the porch, but he was walking in the wrong direction. His feet made their way to the stables and Victoria.

Victoria seemed happy to see him, nuzzling herself into him when he neared. He noticed she had shoved her saddle into the corner of the stall, Arthur found a small chuckle.

"Why does it bother me so?" Arthur asked gently. Was it because Alfred was happy to see him from the start? Or that he was so kind? "What should I do, poppet?" Victoria nudged him away with her snout, as if telling him to go. Arthur smiled, his heart seemed to want that, and his mind was convincing his body. "Don't get too comfortable."

He quickly left the stables and hurried to the spoken porch, oddly running in case for some reason he missed Alfred. He found didn't and climbed on the railing of porch. He noticed Alfred approaching, he rested his head on one of the posts. He grinned slightly at what Alfred said.

"Git," Arthur said. "Just so you know, I'm only here because Victoria is in not shape to travel." It was a bit of a lie, but Victoria deserved her rest.

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the slightly accented voice. He stared dumbly at the figure resting his chin against the post outside his house, as it not believing his eyes. After a long second, a happy grin broke out across his face and he let out a loud laugh. “Artie! I thought you would have been long gone by now!” He shook his head, grinning stupidly at his excuse. Somehow, he doubted that Victoria was the real reason for Arthur’s presence, but he didn’t press it further. He made his way onto the front porch and pushed open the creaky wooden door, holding it open for the green-eyed man to enter. “Come in, I’ll pour you a drink.”

Who cares how stupid he must look right now. Sure he was inviting a known robber into his home, but he couldn’t find himself caring. He was just glad that the man had decided to stay a bit longer, despite the possible threat he posed. Maybe he felt the connection between them too. The thought made the American practically giddy with joy, although he couldn’t imagine why. Alfred took of his worn cowboy hat and hung it on a nail from the wall before stepping inside the room. There wasn’t much to be said about his home. All he had was a small table, a couple chairs, and a cabinet for rations and liquor. There was a hallway to his right that lead into his bedroom, but that was it. It never bothered him though. All he needed was the sun, a wide open sky, and the freedom of the west.

Flipping open the cabinet, he poured two glasses of whiskey and set them on the table. “I don’t suppose you’re hungry, are you? I don’t have much, but there’s some dried meat if you’re interested.” He sat down at the table and gave the man a grin. Why was he suddenly so happy? It’s not as if anything had changed. Arthur was still a criminal, and he was still a sheriff, but at the moment he didn’t care. It almost came as a relief to understand why the British man was so unwilling to explain himself - it sure made a lot more sense now that he looked back on it. Shaking his blond hair out slightly, he took a sip from his glass, wincing as the burning liquid traveled down his throat. He wasn’t much a fan of booze, but he took what he could get. “So...” he started, finally glancing up to meet those emerald green eyes, “You’re a criminal then? Or at least that’s what that bounty hunter said.” Alfred leaned his cheek against his head, still smiling. “I understand now why you didn’t want to talk about it before, but now that everything is out in the open... Do you think you could tell me more about you? The real you I mean... I’d like to know.”

[Crocky Kirkland]

Arthur shook his head at the Sheriff's odd behavior. He honestly couldn't think of a reason why Alfred would be so happy he was there at his house. Maybe the fact that he didn't run away.

He walked into the house. It was oddly bare, though in reality Arthur's house was barer, seeing as he didn't have a permanent house. He watched Alfred hag his hat and walk around the house getting things ready for his guest, if Arthur was even that.

"Uh..." Arthur said oddly at the question if he was hungry. He was, he couldn't remember the last time he ate something that he didn't cook. Not that it was bad, he was a decent cook, he just wanted a different to eat someone's cooking. "I'd rather not impose..." his stomach growled however.

Arthur said down on one of the chairs, turning to look at Alfred as he place a cup of whiskey on the table. He just looked at it.

"I guess we can't avoid it." Arthur said with a shrug. "I never planned on being a criminal. I just got desperate when my father's business failed here in the West and he wouldn't take me back." Arthur said look at Alfred like some trapped child.

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred couldn’t help but chuckled at the sound of Arthur’s stomach rumbling. Just as he thought. Traveling around constantly, especially when you to worry about being recognized as a robber probably didn’t grant him many opportunities to eat a good meal. The sheriff stood up and began looking through his cabinets for something edible. He didn’t feel like cooking anything, but he had some bread and meat that should calm the Brit’s stomach. “You know, for a robber, you’re pretty polite.” He said with a laugh. “And it’s really no trouble.” He set down a couple slices of thick brown bread and unwrapped some dried meat. Placing it all on a tin plate, he set it before his guest. “Now eat up. And I don’t want to hear a word about imposing on me, got it?”

With that out of the way, he took a seat again and watched Arthur’s face as he explained his situation. Ah, so that’s what it was. Makes sense really - life could be hard out here. Even the strongest of businesses could fall to the wayside if circumstances weren’t favorable. In a way, it was relieving to hear that Arthur didn’t have much choice in the matter. People tended to do crazy things in order to survive, and if he wasn’t too attached to his life of crime, maybe there was something Alfred could do for him. “So... you don’t want to be a criminal?” He asked slowly, “Because if you don’t want to be... you don’t have to be.” He glanced down at his glass, fingertips running slowly over the glass lip. “Well... you could always, give it up and.... maybe...”

Alfred mumbled under his breath, cheeks turning a pleasant pink color. Was he really going to stick his neck out like this and ask such a stupid question? Arthur couldn’t possibly feel the connection he did... “Maybe... team up with me...” There, he said it. Man, it sounded so stupid to voice that aloud. Arthur would probably start laughing in his face any second now. “I don’t mean stay in this town,” He said quickly, “I mean, a legend like me can’t do much good staying in one place, right?” He laughed nervously, “But I don’t know much about... well... fighting real criminals and I thought... maybe... we could help each other out. What do you think?”

[Crocky Kirkland]

Arthur blinked at the sandwich. He was almost afraid to eat it as his stomach grumbled on. He knew he was hungry, he hadn't eaten a huge lunch, it had just been a scone thing some girl in the previous town called a biscuit. Yet his hands pulled the plate closer, and picked up the sandwich and Arthur found himself happily eating it.

He was in heaven, not because the sandwich tasted good, it was a regular sandwich that he was eating too quickly to taste. Honestly he didn't know how to thank Alfred, pitying someone like him. He was raised to be a very good gentleman, but at the moment all the manners his mother taught him where fading into the background as he listened to Alfred.

Arthur almost choked on the sandwich he was eating at the Sheriff's suggestion. He couldn't earse some of the things he'd done, and there was no doubt the bounty hunter would spread tales about Alfred, and surely some older, more respected, Sheriff would come after the lad. Arthur didn't want that to happen, but he did want to have a stable job and not have to move so much.

"I don't know She-" Arthur suddenly remembered what Alfred had told him at the saloon before everything happened, "Alfred. I mean sure, some petty thefts can be over looked, but surely you can't ignore three successful train heists." Arthur said putting the little bit of sandwich he hadn't eaten down.

He noticed Alfred tinted cheeks and blushed as well. He wanted to stay more than anything and he didn't know why. Arthur really could help Alfred out though, he knew the criminal mind, or any mind for that matter. "I would love to help you, but we have to be reasonable." Arthur didn't catch the love till it left his lips and he couldn't stop it after that. His green eyes tried to find something else to look at.

[Sheriff Jones]

The sight of Arthur happily eating a simple, yet filling meal brought a smile to the Americans face. It was obvious the man was a bit unsure about how far he go on accepting his kindness, but the battle for hunger won in the end. He was glad to see him eating what such fervor ; sometimes when he tried to help a person, he ended up doing more harm then good. Being able to bring a bit of joy and good health into another man’s life warmed his heart in the most fantastic way. “Help yourself to more, if you’re up for it. It looks like you haven’t had a good meal in sometime.”

Alfred didn’t have to look up to see the shock on Arthur’s face. His cheeks continued to burn from embarrassment, but he couldn’t help when a small, pleased smile slipped onto his face when the British man called him by his first name. The pleasure was short lived when he heard the next bit. “Three successful train heists?!” He practically shouted, blue eyes wide with shock. Realizing how loud he had been caused his cheeks to flare up once more, and he quickly sat back down. “Sorry... I was just a bit surprised...” Wow, had this guy seriously pulled stunts like that? He must have been a better criminal than even Alfred could imagine. He certainly didn’t look that strong, or scary, but he must have known what he was doing.

“I believe that everyone deserves a second chance Arthur. You don’t seem like a bad person to me. I think if you wanted, you could redeem anything you might have done in your past.” Before he could talk himself out of it, Alfred reached across the table and took one of the Brit’s smaller hand’s within his own, squeezing it lightly. He didn’t understand why, but he really, really wanted Arthur to stay. Not only because he wanted to give the struggling man a second chance but because... he could see the two of them becoming the best in the entire west. Alfred knew he wasn’t much of a sheriff or an idea man, but he was eager and had the skills to prove his worth. Arthur was obviously experienced and intelligent, so together, he couldn’t see how they would lose. “I am being reasonable. I don’t want you to go to jail Arthur. Besides, this is a much better way to going about repaying whatever debt you have! You know about people! We would be great together!”

There was a long moment of silence as the sheriff thought back on what he just said. Oh god, wrong wording. Very wrong wording! “I-I just meant, as a team! Not a... you know...” He coughed uncomfortably and quickly pulled his hand back, his cheeks practically florescent. Shifting slightly in his seat, he let the awkward silence stretch on for a few moments longer before speaking again. “I think you and I could be the best Arthur. We could be legends out here...” A smile tugged at his lips, thinking about all the adventures they could one day have. Nothing would ever slow them down. “But it’s your choice. You already know my opinion, now I want you to tell me yours.”

[Crocky Kirkland]

Arthur tried to hide his laugh at Alfred's reaction to his three train heists, but it failed. It honestly wasn't that hard, his accent helped. Sneaking about in the luggage cart and finding a reasonable outfit and cologne to mask his smell of sweet. He grew up in the upper level of society and he knew how to act rich and "posh". If he had money he could go anywhere on the train as long as he was threatening.

"You're so cute," he said without thinking, and it was true. Alfred like some puppy or small animal. His laughter died down as he listened to Alfred.

Arthur's cheeks blossomed red as Alfred took his hand. It was the warmth from when he had gripped his wrist was still the same. Alfred's point making through his hold. He wasn't going to let Arthur go so easily. His blush grew red at Alfred's words, seriously the man needed to learn his English better, but it still sounded nice. We would be great together.

"I suppose everyone does deserve a second chance." Arthur said, and maybe he was being a bit to for it because his life was a bitch to him. Besides that would be an even better why to return too, a legend of the West. Make his father see Arthur was better with the mind, then business. "At least this way I be robbing my way back to England."

Arthur reached for his glass of whiskey and took a huge gulp of it. "We can give it a try." He said slipping his hand out of Alfred and finishing up the sandwich. "You won't happen to have vegetables or anything like that?"

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