May seem a bit cliche at the very beginning, but please keep reading! I like to think that I'm a little off the beaten track with this one. I got the idea while mowing the lawn and jotted it down. Keep in mind that I was hearing it all in my head - if the stutters are too hard to understand let me know and I'll tone them down.

Thanks for your great critiques! (I know they'll be great even before I read them. *smiles hopefully*)

Au revoir,

MademoiselleKool

P.S. new title suggestions are also greatly appreciated?

CHAPTER ONE:

The first sight that greeted Jake’s tired, travel-weary eyes when he stepped off the train was the girl. She was a pretty little thing - pale, rosy skin, not a freckle in sight, blond curls pulled back in a tasteful pile, with some trailing down her soft white neck. Her dress was meant to catch the masculine eye and hold it - and that it certainly did.

Jake tossed his cigarette to the dusty floor of the train station and ground it out with the heel of his boot. He re-settled his hat on the back of his head and walked towards the girl, swinging his large bag around over his shoulder. She glanced up at him as he approached, and little crooked white teeth appeared between rosy lips. Her soft blue eyes flashed - long, curling eyelashes darkened with kohl fell down across her cheek.

Invitation if he ever saw one. He took one more step towards her, and the ring of his spurs sounded loud on the wooden floor, even through the hustle and bustle of the station. She looked at him once more from under those lashes - and he could have sworn a crafty look flashed through them. Then he watched in horror as her skin paled, her pretty blue eyes rolled back in her head, and she slipped to the dusty ground as gracefully as if she’d done it on purpose.

“Damn women,” he muttered, sinking back on his heels and studying her. “Always fainting just when it’s getting good.” She was still pale, and she wasn’t breathing. What the hell was wrong with her? He didn’t know what to do, so he just sat there staring at her and wishing he didn’t have a thing against kissing unconscious women.

“She’s m-married.”

Jake started up, one hand on the hilt of his gun before he could even locate owner of the husky, stuttering voice. He looked down into the coolest pair of dark brown eyes he’d ever seen. They were pretty eyes, deep eyes, framed by short, thick black lashes, but the only thing they held was cold amusement and detached disdain. Only a woman could have a pair of eyes like that, he thought. Then what she’d said sunk in and he took a hasty step back, hand settling more firmly on the hilt of his gun.

Not a woman after all - just a short, small-boned man. The newcomer knelt in the dust beside the pretty girl, not seeming to mind as the dirt caked his already filthy and ragged overalls.

“W-what’s your n-name?” The man asked as he studied the girl’s face with the same detached amusement.

“Jake.”

“Well, J-Jake.” The newcomer rose and stuck out a long, slender brown hand. “C-c-call me J.C.”

“Pleasure,” said Jake briefly. He looked back down at the girl. “She gonna be all right?”

“R-reckon so,” said J.C. He knelt again and put one of his long, calloused fingers to the girl’s temple. “H-hey there, p-pretty girl. I w-won’t hesitate t-to slap you if’n you d-don’t git up right n-now.” J.C. paused and a flash of real humor passed through those brown eyes as he glanced up at Jake. “You kn-know I will,” he said, real warning under the languid amusement of his husky tone.

Finally he grew impatient, raised one slender hand and slapped the girl. Hard. Jake grinned as those cool brown eyes flicked up and down appraisingly. “S-so, Jake… you n-new in town, I r-reckon?”

“Yeah,” said Jake quietly. He was still watching the girl. “She okay?”

As if in response, the girl abruptly began breathing again. Her eyes popped open and she struggled to a sitting position, clutching her head. As soon as she sat up her color began to return.

“Oh! J.C.” Her voice was as light and pretty as the rest of her. “I’m sorry. I think I fainted.”

The husky stutter sounded even more amused now. “S-stow it, M-Mary Anne.”

“I didn’t mean any affront when I was headed towards your wife,” Jake said earnestly. He was new in town, and he didn’t want to get into any fights on his first day. “I didn’t figure she was married. A man oughta know not to leave a girl like her alone in a train station.”

“Yeah?” Those black-rimmed eyes were laughing at him again, Jake could just tell. “Why d-don’t you s-say something of th-that affect t-to her h-husband, then?”

“Oh. Not you?” Jake pushed his hat back and scratched his forehead. “I’m a little confused,” he admitted. Just then, another man - taller than J.C. and infinitely more masculine, rushed forward. He swept the pretty girl - was it Mary Anne? - into his arms and planted a solid kiss on those soft lips.

Jake groaned. “You, then,” he guessed, raising one eyebrow. “Well, I repeat my apology. Didn’t know she was your wife when I headed towards her, sir.”

“Oh, that’s all right.” Mary Anne’s husband had a light tenor voice that trembled a little at the edges.

“You… you ain’t callin’ me out?” Jake asked, incredulous. If it had been his woman he’d have socked the other guy’s lights out by now.

“Oh, no,” said the husband breezily. “If I got into fights with every man she flirted with, I’d be a veritable Frankenstein by now.” He sounded very educated.

“That was flirting?” Jake scratched his head again, hat sliding even further back. “Looked distinctly like fainting to me.”

“Y-you’ll find that in M-Mary Anne’s c-case, they’re often th-the same th-thing.” J.C. again.

“Well, honey, what have you got to say for yourself?” The husband looked indulgently at the beauty in his arms.

“Well, I wasn’t after him this time.” She sounded breathless and a little pouty. “I was trying to get him for Joanna. He’s very good-looking, dontcha think?”

Jake’s head snapped up at the name. “You know a gal named Joanna?”

“Oh, yes.” Mary Anne giggled a little and slanted a wicked glance at J.C. “I must go, though. Come along, Jeremy.” She looped her arm through her husband’s, and he walked her off, kissing her and talking about ice cream.

“That m-man s-spoils her r-rotten and drives me a-absolutely b-ballistics.” J.C. had his strangely feminine hands planted on his hips and was shaking his head, still looking more than a little amused.

“Damnation,” Jake swore as he stared at Mary Anne’s retreating back. “Would it look real funny if I chased after her?”

“Why’d you g-go and d-do a fool th-thing like that?” The husky voice held no little curiosity.

“I’m lookin’ for a gal named Joanna on urgent business. Or her husband,” Jake added as an afterthought. “You happen to know anybody of that name?”

“Know a last name?” asked J.C., suddenly expressionless.

“Yeah - Casey. Joanna Casey.”

“H-heard of her,” said J.C. briefly.

“Can you direct me to her, please?”

“Wh-what’s your b-business?” J.C.’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. He was leaning against the railing of the steps now, one tanned, long finger fiddling with the buttonhole on her loose vest, nibbling at a piece of straw, cool eyes flitting up and down Jake’s figure until he felt completely exposed.

“That’s private, between me and Miss Casey,” said Jake.

“Nah - s-see, I’m a close and p-personal friend of M-Miss Casey, and I d-don’t give a flying h-hoot about y-your p-privacy.”

“What about her privacy?” Jake countered.

“Hellbat b-bloodhounds. Is th-this about h-her f-father?” J.C. demanded, suddenly impatient.

That brought Jake up short. “How’d you know that?”

J.C. settled back, amused once more. “I t-told you, c-close friend. Y-you come out t-to my p-place and I’ll g-get you an introduction.”

“She’s a fine lady, then?” Jake asked in dismay. What he had to say was going to be hard enough without the sort of disdain ladies showed men like him.

A snort of laughter emerged from remarkably plump and shapely lips. “Nah. W-well… I g-guess it d-depends on your int-terpretation of what a f-fine l-lady is.” As he spoke, J.C. threw down the straw and straightened languidly. Jake looked down and saw the overalls dragging in the dust, not covering a pair of long, brown, completely bare feet. He raised one eyebrow and frowned, wondering what J.C.’s place would be like if he were too poor to buy a pair of decent boots.

“Okay, then.” Jake made a decision quickly. “I’ve got a lighting hand and I won’t hesitate to shoot if this turns out to be a trick, though.”

“N-now th-think a m-minute,” said J.C. with a brief, crooked smile. “S-some t-tiny little g-guy like m-me against a b-big b-brute like y-you? Wh-what chance w-would I h-have?”

“True,” Jake mused. He patted the handle of his gun anyway.

Then, as J.C. finally finished straightening and stretching, Jake discovered that this young man was hardly tiny. Despite his thin stature, cloaked heavily in flannel button-down shirts, vests and overalls, J.C. was almost as tall as Jake was. Probably just finished a growth spurt or something. Still, something about the delicate bones in the face said that J.C. probably wouldn’t have much chance in a fight after all.

“Well, where’s your horse at?” Jake asked.

“D-don’t got one,” said J.C. He started walking forward in long, lazy strides that covered the ground slowly. Despite the bare feet, the young man placed his calloused feet with confidence on the wooden floor-boards. Jake hurried to catch up, staring at the sweat-band of J.C.’s hat.

“You don’t got a horse?” Jake pushed his own hat back to scratch his head in amazment, then realized it was almost falling off the back of his head and stopped to pull it forward, tugging it firmly over his brow. He caught up with J.C. again, still incredulous. “How d’you survive?”

“Live p-pretty c-close to t-town,” said J.C. briefly, weaving deftly through crowds.

Jake had a hard time keeping up until they finally broke out of the station and into the sunlight. It wasn’t nearly so crowded, but Jake had barely had time to pull in a breath of the fresh air when long, cold fingers wrapped around his hand and tugged him impatiently forward. He looked down and saw J.C. staring up at him, one delicate eyebrow raised. Those eyes, Jake mused as he followed J.C. down Main Street towards the outskirts of town. The train chugged past them slowly with a long whistle and he winced away. J.C. didn’t even flinch or slow, just kept walking languidly, lazily, but incredibly fast. Jake guessed it was from so much walking - man had developed the perfect pace, that’s what.

“Define ‘pretty close,’” said Jake after they’d reached the edge of town. He scanned the horizon, but there weren’t any houses in sight. It was pretty chilly, even in mid-afternoon, and only the snowy mountains rising close above them broke the view. Jake wasn’t complaining, though - the mountains were a view all in themselves.

“Just a c-couple of m-miles or so,” said J.C.

They continued in silence, only the rhythmic pacing of feet breaking the chilled silence of the foothills. “So how do you know Mary Anne?” Jake asked when he could bare the quiet no longer.

J.C. turned and leveled his flat brown gaze at Jake. “Y-you’re one of th-them d-durn f-fool men who j-just can’t sh-shut up, aren’t y-you?” He frowned briefly before his mask of cool amusement slid back into place. “Sh-she’s my s-sister.”

“Oh.” Jake surveyed the man beside him and doubted that strongly. J.C.’s face was tanned, and though he couldn’t see it clearly - or notice his hair color on the brim of that hat - he’d bet anything J.C. was as dark as an Indian all around. Mary Anne was a lady, and J.C. was no gentleman to match.

“I kn-know, d-don’t make m-much sense, d-does it?” J.C. guessed what was on his mind. “I g-guess one of us g-got the b-brains and the other g-got the b-beauty. I’m s-satisfied with m-my half.”

“Pity no woman’s got both,” said Jake absently. "Or man," he corrected hastily, remembering his present company. He was still scanning for a house. “Seems like we’d be able to see your place by now,” he said after another silent moment.

“Nah, n-not for a while y-yet,” said J.C., chuckling quietly. “Y-you gonna t-tell me about J-Joanna’s father t-to p-pass the t-time, or what?”

“Nope.” Jake was very firm on that count. “He said nobody but Joanna could hear this particular news.”

“Oh.” J.C. was silent for a moment. “So h-he’s not in t-trouble or n-needin’ money th-this time?”

“Nope.” Jake glanced down at him and grinned. “Is that was Miss Carey usually gets from her father?”

“Yep.” J.C.’s voice held no trace of humor now. “Th-that’s all.”

Jake was about to pursue that thought when, faster than he would have thought possible, J.C. had whipped a gun from underneath her long, fluttering vest and leveled the barrel straight between Jake’s legs.