Chapter Text
It’s hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night, and it’s not yet noon. Hiromi Higuruma’s fingertips tap dance impatiently over a rough patch of the wooden tabletop in front of him. Someone’s been digging into it with their hunting knife again, and if he catches them at it, he’s going to use their five o’clock shadow to sand out the kinks. Someone could easily get a splinter, and everyone in the territories was looking for a payout.
Right now, he’d give anything to be neck deep in Ms. Mei’s bathtub on the third floor of the town’s actual brothel, but the scales of justice do not stop, even when they are wilting; or in this case: half-melted.
Hiromi pats his forehead with his handkerchief, which hasn’t left his hand for at least an hour. He’s got a little bowl of water on the table to dip it into, but its effectiveness is middling. It might as well be boiling, right out of the kettle. He’s already rid himself of his hat and suit jacket. He’s got half a mind to unbutton his vest as well, but his saloon is a respectable joint, at least at this time of day.
Hiromi sighs, then speaks in the practiced drawl of a southern gentleman. “Let me make sure I’ve understood this correctly,” he begins, then pauses for effect, all eyes in the room turning to him. He smiles, politely. Having taken up the role of the kindly southern gentleman had served him well since he began his trek southeast from the California coast. In the territories he got on better as a good ol’ boy judge than he ever had as a big city man in San Francisco. From day one, in this town, he somehow managed to command a respect he had not yet earned.
He pulls out his pocket watch, mostly for effect. He doesn’t open it, but instead looks sternly at the taller of the two men standing before him.
“One week ago, heavy winds from a sudden, and surely horrific, thunderstorm broke down a fence between your properties?”
Both men nod in silent agreement, though Hiromi continues to eyeball Mr. Nowell, whom he believes to be the chief problem in this breakdown of law and order.
After a moment, he looks down at the few scraps of paper spread out on the table.
He’s always been in the habit of making notes, even though he doesn’t usually need the reminders; he looks mostly for effect. In these parts, people don’t like it when anyone comes off too smart.
He flips open the pocket watch, glances at the time—lunch will be ready at the inn soon—then puts it back in his increasingly suffocating vest pocket, his fingers settling near one of the vest’s metal buttons. He taps it idly with one fingernail.
“It says here that several of Mr. Aegis’ cattle have not been returned to him since the time of the incident. He believes they can be found on your property. Is this correct, Mr. Aegis?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your Honor,” Nowell interrupts, “I can’t be held responsible for the way that cattle roam. Surely you understand that.”
Hiromi ignores the direct insult to his intelligence, only acknowledging it with a twitch of his shoulders. “Now now, we don’t stand on much ceremony here. Sir is mighty fine enough, no need to bring out the big guns just yet. You’ll know when to call me judge.”
“Yessir.”
“But I will admit, I am a little confused about your line of lo—”
“Well, you see—”
“Mr. Nowell!” Hiromi’s voice carries in the otherwise quiet saloon, though he does not raise his voice much. Behind the two men, his assistant Nobara springs to her feet from the chair near the door where she usually sits, but Hiromi waves her down with his hand. “This may be a saloon and not a court of law, but this is where I do my business, with the authority of Sheriff Yaga. When I speak, I expect you to be silent. This is still a place of honor, at least before five pm. Do you understand?”
“Yes— Judge.”
Hiromi smiles, the first one of the day.
“You learn quickly, maybe this won’t be so hard.” He kicks his feet up onto the table in front of him, boot heels thumping on the solid wood. “Now, as I was saying: I am a little confused about your line of logic. Do you believe you are not responsible for returning another man’s property to him, or allowing him to retrieve it? If your wife wandered in here, does that make her mine?”
Aegis snickers, but Nowell seems less amused. “I hardly think that to be the same thing. A woman ain’t property, after all.”
Hiromi nods and thumps the steel coated heel of one boot on the wooden table, like it’s a gavel. “No, no she isn’t. Sadly, this does not preclude a cow from having more rights than your wife.”
“Ch.” All attention in the room turns to Nobara, looking generally irritated by the heat and specifically irritated by the laws of men. She’s a consummate professional, however, and performs a multitude of important services for him, not least of which is grabbing the ornamental gavel off the wall when the going gets rough. She’s a real whiz with blunt, smashing instruments and worth at least a thousand head of cattle.
“Another county heard from,” Hiromi says with a grin, then turns to the bar behind him. “Yu Haibara, are you back there?”
“Yessir, just a sec!” he calls back before bursting through the dry storage door behind the bar. He’s smiling enthusiastically and wiping his hands with a bar towel.
“What’s up, sir?”
“What’s the penalty for kidnapping persons who have reached the age of majority in these parts?”
“A few months to years of imprisonment; circumstance dependent, of course.”
“And the penalty for the theft of one head of cattle?”
Yu pauses to lend an air of gravity to the moment. His expression shifts from jovial to stern over a few ticks of the clock. He’s an excellent legal aide, bartender and actor, in that order.
He takes a deep breath, then says, “That’s a hangin’, Judge.”
Hiromi knows this, of course, but he enjoys the dramatics. He’s long since felt there’s no point in running arbitration out of a saloon if he isn’t going to be theatrical about it. The local Sheriff disagrees with him on some parts of his philosophy, but only when it spills out into the street and scares the horses.
At first, Nowell doesn’t acknowledge Yu’s statement. Instead, he stands there fanning himself with his wide brimmed hat. He doesn’t look particularly pleased, but Hiromi finds it difficult to care about that. The man had agreed to the arbitration, probably thinking he could evade serious charges.
“Yu, would you remind Mr. Nowell what they liked to call me down El Paso-way, before I settled in this charming town?”
“They called you the Hangin’ Judge, sir.”
“They sure did.”
“Judge, if you’d let me explain…”
“Oh, please. I’d love for you to explain.” Hiromi sets down his damp handkerchief and steeples his fingers, setting his hands down to rest on the table.
“If Aegis would just fix the fence, his cattle would stop wandering over to my property. I don’t want to waste my time rounding them up only for them to come back.”
“It’s a shared property line and Henry won’t pony up his fair share for the repairs.”
“Is this true, Henry?”
Henry offers no answer.
“Yu?” Hiromi asks, without looking back.
“Yessir, it’s true. It’s a shared property line, one fence, according to the land surveys received from the clerk. There’s no open range or agency owned property between them.”
Hiromi smiles, again. “Well, that makes this easy.”
“Judge—”
“Mr. Nowell, I am a busy man. You saw the line out there; you waited in it all morning.” He pauses for a moment, to allow for an interruption, but none comes. “I have made my decision, so here’s what you’re going to do. You will split the cost of the repair to your shared fence. Any repairs elsewhere on your properties is for the both of you to fix at your own, individual, cost. After the fence is repaired, you are to return—or allow for the collection of—any cattle bearing a brand that is not your own.”
He pauses for a moment, but both men remain quiet. One is smiling more than the other.
“You will both submit to inspection by the Sheriff or his appointed representatives in two weeks’ time. This is for the protection of you both. One week after I’ll see you back here, in this place of honor. Either this matter will be resolved, or we will deal with this in a more formal manner. The carpenters in these parts build mighty fine gallows.”
Nowell frowns but nods in the affirmative. Aegis’ smile stretches to a grin. He’s clearly happy with the turn of events.
“Alright then,” Hiromi says as he slams his boots back down on the floor, “Get out of my sight, the both of you.”
“What an asshole,” Nobara says after she closes the door behind the two men.
“It takes a village, I suppose,” Hiromi mumbles absently. “Where’s Yuji?”
“He’s outside takin’ names down to keep the line order. I figure it’s about time we break for lunch.”
“My thoughts exactly. What’s on the menu?”
“Reggie’s got bear meat at the Inn. Makin’ a stew, I hear.”
The prospect of eating a stew on such a hot day sounds unappealing, but bear meat is rarely an option.
“My treat, since it’s such a miserable day.”
Both Yu and Nobara whoop with excitement.
“Did I hear bear meat?” Yuji says, poking his head in from outside.
“Yeah,” Haibara says. “But it’s a stew, so—”
“Stew sounds good to me,” Yuji says with a shrug.
“Yeah, well that’s not sayin’ much,” Nobara barks back. “You’ll eat anything!”
Yuji laughs as Nobara joins him outside, Haibara following after. Muffled arguments already begin filling the air.
Hiromi shakes his head, replaces his hat atop it, and slings his suit jacket over his shoulder. It’s definitely not going back on for the rest of the day.
The four of them walk towards the Inn from the saloon, Hiromi at an easy, meandering pace, the rest orbiting around his position, moving in their own idiosyncratic ways. For Yuji, that means movements akin to a twister, spiraling around Nobara as she stalks like a tiger down the town’s main thoroughfare. Yu simply walks beside him, vigilant of all that’s happening. Always smiling or finding something to smile about, or someone to say hello to.
Hiromi likes being out east of California. He now prefers a quiet town to the big cities, even though he’d been on track to a more lucrative career in San Fransisco.
“Anyone hear back from Reno yet?” he asks no one in particular, trusting that someone will answer him.
“Not yet,” Yu replies. “Paper’s talking about an up-tick in divorce proceedings there. Could be worthwhile?”
“Sounds like a hassle, but let me know what you hear.”
In front of them, Yuji continues twirling and swirling, enough that it’s making Hiromi sick just to watch him. He’s grateful when he stops, until a look of concern pinches Yuji’s brows.
“Hey, who’s that riding in?” he asks, pointing back between where Hiromi and Yu have stopped.
Hiromi frowns. Throughout the town of Girasol, newcomers come and go at all hours. It’s not a noteworthy event to see total strangers, he’s not sure why Yuji is even bothering to point one out. Nevertheless, he turns to look and finds a horse walking down the middle of the dusty main street, understanding quickly dawning on him as he notices more than a couple red flags.
Red flag number one: The horse is meandering at a pace too slow to even be considered leisurely. It’s more like a horse that’s wandering with no direction, or moving like it’s casually grazing in a field, sniffing at the earth in front of its feet.
Red flag number two: The horse’s rider is slumped over in the saddle, listing slightly to the left.
“Are they injured, do you think?” Yu asks, his usual good cheer replaced by a detached seriousness.
“Maybe,” Hiromi says. “Or he could be sleeping.” It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; a good horse could follow the roads if one needed a quick nap. This one obviously has. The rider, a grown man to judge by the size of him, looks like he’s slipped past the realm of a nap, however. That’s red flag number three.
“Well, shouldn’t we help him?” Yuji asks. “You know, so his horse doesn’t spook in town and send him flying.”
“Not everything’s your problem to deal with.” Nobara chimes in. “Your only concern should be that bear meat stew before it’s gone.”
“I’m sure Reggie will save some,” Yuji snaps back. “It’s not like we don’t eat there almost every damn day.”
As is their custom, Yuji and Nobara begin to argue back and forth, and Hiromi’s attention is drawn towards them. He’s about to tell them to knock it off when Yu interrupts their tomfoolery, instead.
“Uh, I hate to be an alarmist, but I don’t think that rider is doing so hot,” he says, his passive concern now sounding more invested.
Hiromi turns away from his bickering aides just in time to see the rider slide off the left side of his horse. He doesn’t even make a half-hearted, last second attempt to stop himself from falling, nor brace his fall. Red flag number four.
“He did not see that comin’, did he?” Nobara muses.
“No, he did not.” Hiromi replies, a little flabbergasted.
“So, is it our problem, yet?” Yuji asks after they’ve stood there a little too long, gawking in surprise.
“I reckon it is,” Hiromi concedes. “We can at least get him some help.”
As one, the four of them advance towards the rider whose foot is still stuck in the stirrup, even as the horse tries to continue ambling forward. Yuji is the first to approach the animal with outstretched hands, grabbing for the reins while he makes soothing, cooing noises under his breath. She’s a pretty sorrel, heavily built and probably once feral, judging by her indeterminate confirmation. Among the mud and dirt caked to her body, Hiromi also spots streaks of blood, though the horse, at least, doesn’t appear to be injured. He cannot say the same for her rider. Red flag number five.
Hiromi decides to stop counting as he reaches out, slowly, and pulls the man’s boot from the stirrup.
“Yuji, why don’t you take this old mare to the stables and have her seen to.” He points to the blood. “Get her cleaned up and fed and make sure she’s not wounded. Have Maki bill me, for now.”
“Yessir.” Yuji’s eyes flicker to the man on the ground. “Is he OK?”
“Can’t be too sure, but he’s breathing. That’s a good sign.”
“Alright,” Yuji says, and then, “Come on girl,” to the horse as he leads her away.
“Nobby—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Hiromi stares at Nobara for a moment, before continuing, “Nobby, go find the Doc, tell her she’s about to have company.”
Nobara glares at him, then nods her head. “Alright.”
Once she’s jogging away, Hiromi steps closer to the injured man, whose chest rises and falls in uneven fits. Before he kneels down, he places his suit jacket on the ground for a bit of padding. It needs a wash anyway. A crowd is starting to gather behind Hiromi as he and Yu flank the stranger on their knees. For now, the onlookers remain at a polite distance; but being no stranger to the perils of potentially having A Past, Hiromi holds his hat near the man’s face to block their gaze. It’s fortuitous that it also blocks the burning rays of the sun.
“Can you hear me, fella?”
The man opens his eyes a little, fluttering them in the artificial shade. They’re as brown as the dirt his fingers are digging into. He tries to lift his head off the ground, but he only manages the motion for a moment before it falls back. He makes a frustrated whine; an interesting sound coming from a man of his size and general shape, which appears to be thicker, and definitely taller, than either himself or Yu.
“What’s your name?” Yu asks, always the first to try to make polite introductions, no matter the circumstances. The blond’s head flops over to look at him. The young man did have his charms.
The man takes a deep breath, then manages “Ken” in a dry, scratchy voice, surely roughed up and hollowed out by the heat.
“Oh!” Yu exclaims happily. Hiromi knows this means Yu has made some kind of connection already. “We had another Ken here a while ago, he was kinda weird though, think he had a head injury or something? All stitched up. Do you remember, Judge?”
“I remember, Yu, but I’m sure this Ken doesn’t need the minutes from the last town meeting, alright?”
Ken puffs out something that might be a snort of humor, or of irritation. It’s hard to tell when his face appears to be made of stone.
Hiromi pauses a moment to take stock of the stranger’s visible wounds. There’s a cut on his cheek, a badly bruised eye and, of course, the more pressing issue, bleeding wounds in his thigh and shoulder, both poorly bandaged—probably in haste—and covered in dry and fresh blood, much like his horse.
“Gunshot wound?” he asks. “Stabbing?”
“Gunshot,” Ken replies. “I dug the bullets out myself.”
“Well, ain’t you some kind of man.”
That quiet puff of air again. Hiromi can’t help but ponder the multitude of meanings behind it.
After a moment’s contemplation, Hiromi says, “Our Nobby went to find the doc. We should take you to her infirmary.” Then he adds, “She’s the discreet kind, if you need her to be, so don't you worry about any of that.”
Ken sucks in a sharp breath and tries to look around, suddenly concerned. “Where’s Siete?”
“Huh? Where’s siete? Uh… Seven?” Hiromi repeats back before exchanging a confused look with Yu.
“My horse.”
Hiromi smiles, “Oh, your horse is named Seven! Siete. She’s with Yuji, getting the best care this side of the Miss’ssippi.”
Kento huffs again, but this time it sounds— appreciative? That sound really did contain multitudes.
Hiromi rises to his feet before he speaks again. “Can you stand and walk a little, if we put you between us? Doc’s only a few buildings away.”
“I can try,” Ken says.
And so, they try.