Chapter 1: Once Upon a Kansas Train
Chapter Text
When Katy was a little girl, her family had lived crammed in one room in a filthy tenement in San Francisco’s Chinatown. The landlord always came to get the rent in person. He liked to comment how pretty she was, and how few girls there were, in a way that made her uncomfortable. He began offering them money for her, which her father refused. Then one day he proclaimed a large amount of money was owed to him, for some debt he’d fabricated. It was more money than they could pay, but he told them he’d happily take their daughter to settle the debt.
Her mother and father were up all night, sitting at their tiny table, debating places they might be able to flee to. At one point even going back to China was discussed.
In the morning, one of their downstairs neighbors told them they knew someone who could get them the money, no strings attached. There was a mysterious man named Shiuyin who stole money from rich people, and distributed it among the needy. It sounded fake to Katy, but damned if the money didn’t show up. Enough money to pay off the landlord, and to move.
That same neighbor told them that Shiuyin had a town, somewhere in the interior of the country, that he was paying to bring people to. Her family packed up their things, and got on a train.
Katy had been bored, and fidgety, and so wandered around the train on the long ride. She ended up climbing into the baggage car at one of the stops, where she found two little girls she had no language in common with, hiding behind the trunks. She took them to Fen, her neighbor that was organizing the journey. Fen insisted the girls stay with the group, and come all the way to Kansas.
Triskelion, the town they got off at, was as welcoming as advertised. Shiuyin didn’t own it. He turned out to be not some mythic figure, but a rather ordinary white man with curly hair and an accent that made him a little hard for Katy to understand. He’d been a poor immigrant like them, just with a talent for theft.
His real name was Maximoff, and his wife spoke whatever language those little girls spoke, so they took them in.
Katy’s parents opened a small grocery like they’d had in San Francisco, and they lived in the room above it. Her mother sold dim sum on the side, and it proved so popular that the business turned into a restaurant that consumed the adjacent storefront. An entire Chinese neighborhood with a dozen families sprouted up, and her father built a house with four bedrooms.
The summer of 1876, Triskelion--like much of the country--threw an enormous festival for America's Centennial, Katy turned fourteen, and her family got a letter that her grandfather had died. Her parents had enough money to bring her grandmother over from China. Concerned there could be trouble at immigration, her father took the entire family with him to San Francisco to meet Waipo’s ship. He wanted to make them look as prosperous as possible in hopes of forestalling problems.
It was held up for weeks, as officials kept an elderly widow confined on a ship in the harbor while ‘investigating’ to be sure she wasn’t going to work as a prostitute. Katy’s father wired back to Triskelion to tell the friends watching their businesses what was happening and that they’d be gone longer.
A week later, Sheriff Rogers—who was apparently still technically a US Marshall at the time—and Reverend Coulson stepped of the ferry in San Francisco with what Katy learned years later was a suitcase full of cash, and that very evening brought Waipo to the rooms they were renting in San Francisco.
Rogers had looked at her parents very seriously and said, “My wife is pregnant, and she misses your dumplings.”
Then, to top the whole shenanigan off, Rogers invited them to ride back to Triskelion in the private Pullman car belonging to Mr. Stark, the richest man in town, that Rogers and Coulson come west in.
Everything on the train was fancy, and Katy’s mother insisted she wear the new dress she’d bought in San Francisco. It went to the floor and required a corset. It made her feel very much like an adult, and also a little like she was stuffed in a sausage casing. Fashionable hair was a cascade of pinned up curls, something Chinese hair just…didn’t do, but her mother still put it up as best she could each morning.
The train had a very long stop at Cheyenne in Wyoming Territory, because they had to take the Pullman off the Union Pacific train going east and put it on the Kansas Pacific train going south. Katy was restless, and took the parasol her mother insisted she carry outside and went for a walk. There were shops downtown, she had a few cents, and wanted to buy some candy.
On the way back she ate her lollipop and took a wander over to the train yard beside the station to see if they’d moved the cars.
There she came across an interesting tableau.
In the open doorway of one of the box cars were three people—a Chinese boy who looked to be about her age, cornered by two burly men dressed like cowboys. She didn’t know what was going on, but it did not look good. And it did not look like something she should insert herself into.
The boy noticed her, and tried to make a gesture to tell her to go away without being too obvious. Then men noticed, and both turned. They both got that discomfiting, hungry look of many men in the west who hadn’t seen a woman in a while. Seemingly every single man in Chinatown had looked at her that way, the gender imbalance was so bad.
She could see them realize she was Chinese, in a respectable-white-woman dress and a lacy parasol, standing in a dirty train yard with a bright green child’s lollipop. The incongruence of it all seemed to throw them. Stupid people were like that. They didn’t know what to do with weird, and weird Katy could lean into. Once they’d turned she could see they were Mexican, so she decided the thing to do was to sing, loudly, the Spanish drinking song Ana and Inez Maximoff—the little girls from the train, who were still good friends—had taught her. Katy had no idea what it said, other than the lyrics were reasonably obscene and she was to never, ever sing it in front of Mrs. Maximoff.
The two men looked at her like she might be possessed by demons. One of them crossed himself. They both hopped down out of the box car and fled.
From the train the boy just stared at her in astonishment, and she grinned at him. “You’re welcome,” she called. His hair was in a very traditional braided queue, prompting her to wonder how much English he knew, and so repeating the statement in Cantonese. Assuming he spoke Cantonese. Most in San Francisco did, but it was a dice roll elsewhere. China had a lot of regions and a lot of dialects.
He flashed a grin and shook his head. "You crazy?”
“Debatable,” she replied, coming over to the car. “You on this train?”
"More or less," he said with a shrug. "Unless someone else catches me."
“You know, this is the second time I’ve found a stowaway on a train. Which is noticeable as this is only my third train trip. The last one taught me that song.”
"I'm afraid I don't know any good songs.”
He sat on the edge of the open car door, and she closed her parasol since they were in the shade. She looked up at him a moment. “Where are you headed to?”
He paused a moment, as if he wasn't certain of the answer. "Haven't decided yet," he finally said.
“This particular train is going to Omaha. After that it gets a lot more crowded, with a lot more changing of trains. If you get on the Westbound it will take you out to San Francisco.” The look of almost immediate panic in his eyes prompted her to say, “Okay, no San Francisco. If you are going to hitch east, it would help if you blended in better.” His English was so good she wondered if he’d been born here like her. But he otherwise looked like he’d just gotten off the boat. Curious.
"What do you suggest?" he asked, in a tone of genuine interest, no hint of patronizing some men used.
“Western clothes. Cut your hair. Get one of those dumb looking hats with the brim and shove it as far down your forehead as you can. Get some tobacco and learn to spit.”
“I know how to spit and tobacco is disgusting.”
“I don’t dispute that, but all white men seem to do it.” She’d asked her father once about the hairstyle that most Chinese men in San Francisco wore, but he didn’t. He told it was a law in China, and if you went back without the queue you could be executed. Which sounded a little extreme to her, but what did she know. Katy’s father didn’t wear it because he came here to be American, and didn’t plan on ever leaving. “I know there’s a whole bit with the hair where you can’t ever go back home if you cut it off, and I’m not a man and anyway I was born here, but that’s how you blend.”
"Not quite ready to let go of the braid," he admitted, glancing around the station. "But the hat and clothes wouldn't hurt, I guess.”
Katy heard the whistle of her train, sounding in warning for everyone to come back and board. “I have another idea,” she said.
"What might that be?”
“That train, all the way at the end.” She pointed. “That’s the Kansas Pacific. It’s got a Pullman and a private baggage car on the end. The baggage car has a lot of crates in it, but the front half is empty.”
He squinted, looking down the row of trains. "That your train?" he asked, turned back to look at her.
“Yeah. And I gotta go. But you might like my town. There’s a Chinese neighborhood and most of the people are nice.”
He tipped his head back, considering. Then he slowly unfolded himself to stand. "Maybe I'll take a stroll.”
There was another whistle. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, opening her parasol. “I’m Katy, by the way.”
“Shangqi,” he replied.
“White people can’t pronounce that, you’re going to need an American name. And a family name—which goes on the back—that they can also say.” He was making a face, and she said, “The less you make a target of yourself, the less anyone shoots. Besides, you clearly need a new identity if you’re running from something.” Whatever was in San Francisco, she assumed. “Think about it while you’re strolling.”
He inclined his head. "I'll give it some thought. Thanks, crazy Katy.”
She laughed as she walked back to the platform. Her mother made a face at her for wandering off, but no more than that. Lunch was being served once they left Cheyenne, and Katy was bored listening to the adults talk. It took 5 hours to get down to Denver, and the scenery in the Rockies was mesmerizing. They didn’t have to change trains again, but there was an hour wait for freight loading. The others went for a walk, but she begged off and said she wanted to rest. Once they were gone she let herself into the baggage car—it had a connecting door like a passenger car, for some reason—to see if her friend had made it.
It was dark and quiet, but she imagined he’d have hidden when he heard the door. “You in here?” she called.
"Maybe," a voice replied a moment before his shape coalesced out of the shadows. "You probably shouldn't be sneaking around back here.”
“Oh, this thing is exclusively for the private car on the end, nobody else will come in here. You hungry?”
"Yeah," he said. "Didn't have time to grab anything in Cheyenne.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and then she went back to her car to get some of the dinner leftovers from their private galley. Her mother and Waipo had made dumplings because Sheriff Rogers wanted to learn how to make them himself.
“I don’t want you to steal food from your boss and get in trouble,” is what she was greeted with when she got back to the baggage car.
She handed him the plate and rolled her eyes. Though it was honestly a reasonable assumption. “I don’t work in the private car, my family is riding in it as passengers. It’s a long story. Which…actually I should tell you. It’ll help Triskelion make sense.”
He took the plate and popped one of the dumplings in his mouth whole, then looked at her expectantly. She sat on one of the boxes and started from the top with the story she’d been told, of the town tyrant and the Marshall on the stage.
"So they really all accept everyone who comes?" he asked when she'd finished up with her family arriving. "No matter where they come from?”
“We’ve got people from all over the world.” She gestured at the car. “The local millionaire lent the Sheriff his private rail car to come get an elderly Chinese woman out of immigration jail. Not because we asked for this enormous favor, but because our next door neighbor told his wife about it while she was picking up her laundry. Triskelion is just very unique.”
He nodded slowly. "San Francisco likes to think it's like that. But it isn’t."
“My father said it was different when he was young. He came to dig gold, ended up working on the railroad for a while. But it didn’t last long.”
"It never does," he said. He wiped his hand off on his pants and held the empty plate out for her. "Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She climbed off the boxes. “I’ll come back tonight after everyone is asleep and bring some blankets, it’ll probably be cold overnight. I’ll explain you to my family when we get to Triskelion.”
He nodded. "Don't get in trouble on my behalf.”
“They’ll understand.” She gave him a smile. “You looked like you could use a friend.”
The corner of his mouth lifted a little. "Guess that's true.”
“Well, now you have one. Possibly a crazy one, but you know beggars can’t be choosers.”
"We can all use a crazy friend now and then.”
She patted him on the arm, and went back to the Pullman. It was late when everyone was finally in bed, and she collected the blanket and pillow from the empty berth above her. She also quietly dug out some cheese and bread and a cup of water because he’d probably be thirsty. It had to be pitch black in there by now, so she took the kerosene lantern by the door with her when she went.
Good thing she did, too, because he was sleeping stretched out on the floor on the far end of the car, and she nearly tripped over him. She put the lantern and cup on top of one of the crates, and crouched down to poke him.
He jerked awake, rolling and catching her wrist with his hand and twisting to pin her to the floor of the train. He blinked, seemed to recognize her, then immediately let her go, shifting away to crouch. “Sorry."
Katy stared at him a moment, rubbing her arm and wondering for the first time if she ought to be afraid of him. She was, after all, alone in a dark baggage car with a boy—who was clearly quite strong—that she’d met that morning, and anyone who might theoretically hear her was asleep. Sometimes her impulses made her stupid. Her mother yelled at her about that all the time. “I brought you blankets,” she said quietly.
"Thank you," he said, just as quiet. He held a hand out and she nudged them closer to him. "Sorry about grabbing you. I don't wake up well.”
He didn’t look menacing. If anything, he scared himself. Like she might scream and get him thrown off the train—or worse. So she stood up and retrieved the food and water and brought the lantern down so she could see him better. The train rocked and she had to brace her hand on the crates. He swayed with it easily without losing his balance. Then he sat on the blanket and took her offerings. She sat across from him. “Sorry I startled you.”
He nodded. "The rocking's soothing. Easy to sleep too deeply.”
“Haven’t gotten enough sleep lately?”
"Traveling like this doesn't lend itself to relaxation.”
“Was your life before relaxing?”
He actually laughed. "Not at all.”
“I think only really rich people get to actually relax much. Everyone else is busy just trying to stay alive.”
He shook his head. "Some rich people manage to find ways to make their lives harder. Trust me.”
Katy snorted. “If I had a lot of money, I’d do nothing. I’d lay around in a fancy silk dress and eat expensive imported fruit.”
"Well, you're smarter than some people, then.”
She could just tell he had an interesting past. The mystery intrigued her. But instinct told her he didn’t and wouldn’t want to talk about it. “Your English is really good. If you weren’t born here, you should say you were because you sound like it.”
"Makes sense." He gave a little salute. "San Francisco, born and raised.”
“Me too. Well, when I was little. I didn’t get to play with other kids much because my father worried about my safety given the general behavior of a neighborhood that’s 90% unmarried men.”
"Yeah." He made a face that was both dark and grossed out. "Anyone bother you in this cattle town?”
“There are always men who leer, I’m told to expect that as I grow. The butcher makes me uncomfortable. I’m not the only girl who thinks that, though he’s perfectly nice. I couldn’t even explain it. I’m sure I could tell the Sheriff if he actually did something. But I mean, someone grabbing me off the street and taking me to a brothel is not ever a concern. It’s safe there.”
"Good," he said firmly. "There should be more places like that.”
“If you’re an American,” she said. “Why do you follow the hair laws from the Old Country?”
"My father is from the old country," he said, as if that explained everything.
She studied him a moment, then asked, “What would he think of you being out here?”
"He would be immensely displeased. If he knew.”
“And yet here you are.”
He shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Saw an opportunity and took it.”
“Like a jailbreak.”
"Very much like that.”
“You don’t have to follow the warden’s rules anymore, you know.”
"I know," he told her sincerely. "But somethings are harder to let go of than others.”
She supposed unwinding from that kind of upbringing took time. “As long as you do it because you want to and not because he told you.”
"I am still figuring out how to tell the difference." He tilted his head. "But I am working on it.”
“Well, I’m always happy to give you my opinion.”
He flashed a smiled. "I bet you are.”
“I should probably get to sleep,” she said, slowly standing.
"Me too. Be careful on your way back.”
“And work on the American name thing. Or else white people are just going to make one up, and then you’ll be stuck with it.”
"Maybe that would be better. I don't know a lot of white names.”
“Some of them are pretty weird.” She grinned. “I look forward to having something to tease you about.”
He laughed, shaking his head. "I'm sure you will.”
“I’ll see you in Triskelion,” she told him.
"Sleep well," he replied, with a little bow.
Chapter 2: The Legend of the Lost
Summary:
[If you missed the notification about the story posting, blame Ao3, then go back and read chapter 1 first]
Notes:
My family has departed, my house is quiet, and I'm off work this week. Stretch goal to post until New Years.
Chapter Text
Seven years later
Katy had been right about the name. It went through several manglings during his first few days in town, as well meaning people attempted to transcribe or pronounce or transcribe someone else’s mispronunciations. One of the funnier variants was the hotel owner’s young daughter writing “Mr. Shoe Sandal” in the register, something he never heard the end of once Katy got wind of it.
It was the Postmaster, a dark haired man with a pronounced southern accent and an air of constant irritation, who asked him if he had ‘a normal name’ for whatever paperwork he was filling out, then wrote Shaun Lee, and proclaimed it the best he could do.
Sheriff Rogers apologized when he got wind, but it was better than Shoe Sandal, and generic enough it helped him hide. And Li had been his mother’s name. So he decided to use it, and the eventually the name the town gave him felt as much his as the one from his father. If not more. It certainly made his father seem very far away.
Shaun rented a room above the Chens’ restaurant, and they adopted him like part of the family. He worked at the livery stables, and occasionally downstairs when they needed an extra pair of hands. He had good friends, including the crazy girl who’d found him in a train yard and probably saved his life. Not from those two men—he could have handled them fine—but by brining him somewhere safe, somewhere that could be home.
San Francisco mostly seemed like a different life, one far in the past. Except for the growing lack of subtlety in Katy’s family’s insinuations that they should get married, because it reminded him why it wasn’t as simple as it looked to them.
Then a ghost from that former life showed up and turned everything upside down.
Triskelion wasn’t exactly a big city, but it had acquired itself a vigilante of some sort, who was killing men he though violated whatever moral code he had. They’d been white men, so far, but there was a near universal sentiment, among anyone you talked to whose skin was a different shade, that when he ran out of assholes, they’d be next.
After three obvious lowlifes, the vigilante then killed the ‘upstanding’ town butcher. The one Katy had told him, all those years ago, made her uncomfortable. The town was outraged until the vigilante sent a letter to the newspaper explaining what the butcher had been up to.
“I am both shocked, and not even remotely surprised,” is what Katy told him when she read it. Her little brother was their neighborhood’s paperboy, so they often got a copy of the next day’s paper the night before, if it was ready. Katy would swipe a copy and bring it upstairs to Shaun’s rooms to read. “You know he propositioned me once? Told me all Chinese girls the America are whores.” She sighed, and looked down at the paper. “Clearly I was lucky he accepted the ‘no’.”
Shaun did know. She’d told him. The butcher leaving her alone after that wasn’t luck.
"It was only a matter of time he went after the wrong woman," was what he said. "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving man.”
“I don’t know what to think about this murdering guy who seems to be mostly doing everyone a favor.”
Admittedly, he had the same thought. "I suppose eventually he'll murder someone who doesn't deserve it.”
“That’s what my Dad keeps saying.”
"I think not getting caught is going to go to his head. He'll start to think he can do anything.”
“I don’t attempt to imagine the thought process of someone who kills people.”
He didn't flinch at the derision in her voice, but it was a close thing. "I think they're closer to everyone else than you think.”
“I suppose that’s true. I think the Sheriff and all them killed a bunch of people during the battle for the town. So I’ve been told.”
Shaun had heard plenty of stories from the men to know the battle was the least of it. "There was also the war.”
“War is different, I think. So is self defense, or hanging a criminal. Something else started it. It’s not just waking up and deciding to kill someone for no reason other than thinking they should be dead. Like you said, that can go wrong really easily.”
It was an interesting distinction. One that gave him a little bit of hope someday he might be able to talk to her about his past.
“Anyway, I probably should get home before my mother worries.” She stood up and shook her skirt out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
"As always," he promised.
She took the paper and went down the wooden stairs on the outside of the building. He hung in the doorway to watch her. He’d rather she let him walk her after dark, but she always insisted she was fine. But he watched until she was out of sight, at least. It was a paranoid habit, and he should stop.
Four doors down, in front of the closed bakery, a man stepped out of the shadows and into her path.
There was no legitimate reason for anyone to be stopping her at this hour. Going down the main stairs would mean losing sight of her. So he slipped out the window, balancing on the sill and jumping to the neighbor’s porch roof to climb down to the street.
Katy was clearly arguing with the man, and when she started to back up, he grabbed her by the arm to pull her into the alley between the bakery and the shop next door. Katy yelled at the man in Chinese and Shaun could see her kick him in the shins before she was out of sight.
He sprinted forward, skidding to make the turn into the alley. The guy was till tussling with Katy and had his back to Shaun, so he took the opportunity to kick the back of his leg, popping his knee out. It was enough to enable Katy to get out of his grip, though momentum caused her to lose her balance and fall on the ground.
The attacker spun around, and caught a shaft of moonlight that revealed two things—a knife he’d pulled from somewhere, and a Ten Rings tattoo on his neck.
Well, there went any instinct to hold back on him. He blocked the knife he tried to stab him with, grabbing his arm and slamming it into the wall of the bakery. He twisted his body, ramming his shoulder into the other man's sternum and ramming him into the wall as well.
The man gasped, wind knocked out of him. Not for long, though. He was strong, and well trained, and also visibly angry. He managed to get a hit in, and take another swipe with the knife. And then inexplicably shouted, “This isn’t any of your business!” at Shaun.
It was so incongruous, it almost made him falter. He blocked the next hit though. "What are you talking about? She had nothing to do with my father.”
“I don’t have time for this,” was the only reply he got. He swapped knife hands and slashed at Shaun’s face, managing to knick the arm he threw up to block it. It was enough the man got free, and lunged after Katy—who really should have run home but was of course still in the alley. She’d found a hunk of wood from somewhere and was holding it like a bat.
She swung at the man and missed. He got ahold of the wood and used the momentum to bang her into the wall, before Shaun tackled him.
The moment Shaun took to make sure Katy was okay and hadn’t cracked her skull was enough for the man to get a moment of upper hand, which prompted him to say, apparently to Katy, “Sorry, but I’m going to have to kill your boyfriend.”
"You can try," Shaun muttered. He caught the guy's knife hand again and twisted two of the fingers, breaking them. He caught the knife as it fell, flipped it around, and drove it into the other man's chest.
The key to not getting blood all over ones self was to leave the knife in there, and he shoved the man away carefully, so he could get up. He wasn’t dead yet, but Shaun knew where to put a blade, so it wouldn’t be long.
Katy was standing there staring at him, breathing hard. He couldn’t see her face well enough in the shadows to tell what was on it.
He gestured at her. "Come on. Let's get out of here.”
She didn’t move. “Who are you?”
For a moment he was concerned she'd hit her head. "Your friend Shaun?”
“I don’t know, I think maybe I just met Shangqi and whatever he was running from in San Francisco.” Before that statement could alarm him—though it was entirely factual—she shook herself a little and then came forward. “You said your father was awful, but I didn’t picture ‘send assassins’ awful. God, your arm is bleeding, are you okay? Let me see that.” She reached for his arm and pulled his sleeve up to inspect the cut, like they weren’t in an alley standing over a dead body.
"It's okay, it's shallow. Are you okay?”
“Just a little banged up. Who’s Ling Ling?”
He frowned and looked at her. "What? Where did you hear that?”
She looked down at the body. “That’s what he insisted he knew my real name was. Said he was going to take me home, then go and get my brother, who is apparently panning for gold in Deadwood. Which I think is in Dakota Territory? At that point I thought he was nuts.”
"Deadwood?" He nudged the guy with his foot, but he was dead. "Shit," he muttered.
“Are you going to explain what is going on?”
"Yes, but I want to do it not is an alley with a dead body.”
Katy stared at it a moment, then said, “If we just left it here, they’d blame the vigilante.”
"They absolutely will." She hesitated. "This guy is from San Francisco. No one is going to know him and he's not going to have any idea. "Getting caught with him is only going to get me in trouble and possibly blamed for the other murders. Let's go.”
“Jesus. Right.” She started walking, to the back of the alley so they could walk home behind the buildings.
They went back up to his room and he let her fuss over his arm a moment. "Ling Ling is my sister," he said finally.
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” she said, getting up to find something to clean and bandage it with.
"She's a couple years younger than me," he said. "Xialing. She was still in San Francisco when I left, but I guess she left, too.”
“Jail breaks are contagious.” She started to clean the cut, which stung like hell. “The man thought she was here, and you were there. Stands to reason she’s in Deadwood.”
"Panning for gold, apparently." And Dad was after both of them.
“She may not actually be prospecting,” Katy said carefully.
He gave her a look. "I'm aware, Katy.”
“I just want to make sure you don’t decide to be obnoxious about it. Women don’t have a whole lot of options aside from a husband that owns you, a brothel, or starvation.”
"Do I like the idea of my sister working a brothel? No. Do I understand it was probably preferable to staying with Dad? Hell yes.”
She looked impressed. “Well…good.” Tying off the bandage on his arm, she said, “You are clearly a very good fighter.”
"I was trained from the time I was seven. After my mother died.”
There was a little nod. “San Francisco is a dangerous place.”
He hesitated a moment and said. "My father is one of the people who makes it so.”
“I didn’t imagine he was a good man, considering I found you hiding in a box car in Wyoming.”
She was remarkably good at making him smile, even in terrible circumstances. "Have you ever heard of the Ten Rings? When you were living back in San Francisco.”
“I have, in that vague way children hear about adult things. My father had a shop and I think he had to pay them.”
"Yeah, probably. Most of Chinatown does. It's the best way to make sure your building doesn't spontaneously burn down someday.”
“I hear tell Triskelion had that problem, once. So your father works for the Ten Rings?”
"My father is the Ten Rings.”
Katy was quiet a moment, then said, “I see why you ran.”
"Yeah." He sighed and blew out a breath. "And now he's found me. Or thinks he has.”
“He has you swapped.” She pushed up the sleeves of her dress and he could see bruises on her arms. Guilt stabbed at him. But she kept talking as she inspected them. “And I was just thinking that man was clearly expecting a girl he could pick up like he picked me up. Not you. Who he was clearly no match for. You dealt with him pretty quickly and efficiently once you gave him your full attention. That thing with the knife was actually-” She broke off and cleared her throat.
All logic said she’d be disgusted by his ability to quickly and efficiently—as she’d put it—kill someone. Which she’d just watched him do. He didn’t want to see what expression was on her face and shouldn’t look, but he glanced over at her anyway. Her face was flushed, as if the rest of that sentence was something she’d be embarrassed to say out loud. In a way that was not at all bad.
One of his brows tried to climb upwards and he got it under control. "So he thought my sister was here. Dad's info got mangled somewhere along the way." He considered a moment. "I have to get to Deadwood. Warn my sister." And apologize. And maybe convince her to come here with him.
“Whoever he sends to Deadwood after this minion doesn’t return is probably going to be prepared for actual-you. If I were your father, I’d send a whole posse.”
Shaun wasn't sure if Dad would give him that much credit or not. But it would definitely be more than one impatient lackey. "All the more reason to get there before them.”
“I agree. We should be on the morning train.”
He stopped and stared at her. “We?"
“Yes, I am coming with you.”
There were a thousand reasons that was a bad idea. He picked one at random. "Your parents will never be okay with that.”
“Convenient then that I’m an adult.”
"Are you just going to disappear without a word? They'll be worried sick.”
“I’ll leave them a note.”
"Katy, this is really dangerous. You've already gotten hurt because of me.”
“I’ve done worse on the corner of the wardrobe.” She moved in front of him so she could meet his eyes. “You stand a much better chance of getting all the way there without getting thrown of the train if you look like respectable middle class gentleman traveling with his wife in her ruffled traveling dress and a not coolie coming for their jobs.”
He scowled at her, mostly because she was right and he didn't have an argument for that. "I never wanted you involved in all this," he said quietly.
“Why not?” she asked, just as as quiet.
"Because it's rough and violent and all the things I don't want for you.”
“Hey, I don’t want those things for you, either. But the cards are dealt and on the table. We’re stuck with them.” She took one of this hands. “If it involves you, it involves me. I’m not staying behind to worry myself sick.”
He sighed deeply because he knew that face and that tone. She was going, whether he liked it or not. "I guess we should pack then.”
She went on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you!”
"I know when I'm beat," he replied. "Just promise to do what I say when things get dangerous?”
“I promise,” she said. He wasn’t sure how that would go in practice—from experience—but she’d at least try. “I can get us tickets.”
"Thank you," he said. He still dreaded what her parents would say at the end of all this. Maybe he could explain the Tone. Surely they knew it when they heard it too.
*
Katy had a tendency to do things without thinking through the consequences of something. Or, if she did think about them, they were far enough in the future that it felt vague. She operated on a sense that it would somehow all work out.
She had an entire train ride, stagecoach ride, visit to a mining town, another stagecoach ride and another train ride to figure out how to explain to Shaun, and how to deal with her parents. Because she’d written her note to leave them with the not explicitly stated but nonetheless obvious conclusion that they were eloping.
It would be a mess, but in truth it was the only way she could be completely certain they wouldn’t send the Sheriff after her.
He met her at the train first thing in the morning, in his nicest clothes, carrying a bag. He eyed her finery a moment. "Everything okay?”
“Absolutely.” She smiled at him. “This will probably not be as nice as my last train ride, but definitely better than yours.”
"It would be hard not to be.”
“The end of the journey is going to be by stagecoach, since there’s no railroad into Deadwood. We’ll get off the train for it in Cheyenne, which is where we met.” It had amused her to no end when she’d realized that buying their tickets.
He clearly didn’t want to smile, but also clearly couldn’t help himself. "Very fitting.” Then he sighed, she’d guess thinking about the stagecoach. She’d been on one once—they were hot and crowded an enclosed spaces like that, particularly with people, had always made him uncomfortable. But it wasn’t like there were a lot of options. "Thank you for taking care of all this.”
She hated how weary he looked for a moment there. She doubted he’d slept much. “I got it covered,” she told him, holding up the basket hanging off her arm. “Even packed us some snacks.”
The train on the westbound platform whistled.
Shaun glanced over at it, then straightened, pulling himself up to his full height. He hefted his bag and offered her the other arm. "Shall we?”
Katy tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “We shall.”
The seats here nothing fancy, just a double seat they shared, but it was relatively comfortable and not too crowded. She had to arrange her dress to sit properly, and would probably eventually regret not lacing her corset looser, but in the scheme of things it was decent.
“Sleeping sitting up is going to be interesting,” was her comment.
"You're welcome to slump on my shoulder," he replied. "Drool all over my shirt.”
“I do not drool,” she replied. “A gentleman wouldn’t insinuate I did.”
"I believe I've been quite clear I am not a gentleman.”
“And here I am traveling with you. My reputation will be ruined and I’ll never be invited to the debutante ball.”
"I'm not sure if I should apologize or you should thank me for that.”
“They’d probably want me to serve drinks or clean the kitchen anyway.”
He flashed her a grin. "You could spit in the drinks.”
“If I do that I’d call it a medicinal cure and charge them extra.”
Now he laughed, earning a few glances from others in the car. "Sounds like a solid business plan.”
“Katy’s magic elixir. Cures gout, menstrual cramps, and smallpox.” She laughed. “Oh, you should have seen Pete deck that asshole selling turpentine and complaining we were selling tea. It was a thing of beauty.”
"I am sorry I missed it," he admitted. "Pete doesn't get mad often, but when he does… Guy had it coming.”
“No matter how much a woman likes to handle her own business, there’s a kind of man who
only listens to other men.”
"Oh, I knew plenty of them growing up," he said. "It's pretty common.”
“We have our own power when we need it. It’s just…more subtle.”
"Like swinging a stick at an assassin?”
“Man grabs me and drags me into a dark alley, Shaun, murder isn’t what I’m worried about.”
He inclined his head, conceding the point. "It was still impressive.”
“At that point I was more worried about you. He was clearly after me—in that he thought I was your sister—but I was concerned he was going to kill you in his effort to get me.” She looked up at him as the train started to roll. “I don’t doubt he’d have had to.”
"He would have," Shaun said firmly. "To take you anywhere.”
“I think I’ve always known the sentiment. What I did not realize was how well you could back up the threat.”
Pink colored his cheeks and he found something else to look at briefly. "Better than most of the men in town.”
“Probably best I didn’t know. I was enough of a troublemaker as it was.”
He laughed. "Oh, god. If you'd know you were untouchable I'd never have gotten a moment's peace.”
“You scared Frollo off, didn’t you?”
"I very much did, yes.”
Katy took her hat off and put her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He pressed his cheek to her hair and she could feel him sigh. "Any time.”
Chapter 3: Wyoming Outlaw
Notes:
The first story in this series was a sprawling story with lots of people and lots of plot, followed by a story that had a couple wandering the west and having sex in hotels...which seems to be a pattern we repeated. This one might need a rating bump.
Chapter Text
The ride was mostly uneventful. They changed trains in Abilene, and then that afternoon headed due west across the plains, with only a few of the many stops being long enough to purchase something to eat. Katy was glad she’d packed them plenty of food. They slept fitfully for a few hours in the middle of the night as they crossed western Kansas and into Colorado.
In the morning, the scenery was unchanging as ever. Grass and sky and sky and grass. “On the trip from San Francisco, the scenery was absolutely amazing from there to Denver, and then from Denver to Triskelion, it all looked like this,” Katy commented.
“There weren’t any windows in the box car,” was Shaun’s dry reply, which made her laugh.
That they hadn’t killed each other when they finally rolled into Denver, late in the afternoon after 30 hours on a train together, was probably a testament to their friendship.
He spent a lot of the trip quietly telling her more about his childhood. How his mother had been killed by his father’s rivals, and his father’s father’s brutal training that followed. The Ten Rings had a compound in the hills outside the city, and a building in Chinatown adjacent to the Chinese consulate. Shaun had rarely been let out of either, and never unsupervised. Jail had not been an exaggerated comparison.
He clearly had mixed feelings about his skills, given how and why he’d gotten them, which only made Katy’s own feeling more complicated. She shouldn’t find something that upset him appealing, but she kind of did. In that primitive, pit-of-your-stomach sort of way. On some fundamental level, a man defending you from danger in a dark alley was attractive. Full stop. Their friendship had been forged when they were still practically children, and for it to remain safe and harmless required her to not spend too much time thinking of him as a man. Let alone one who she had a strong urge to see without a shirt.
Yet, here they were. She wondered if her parents assumptions were just about logistics and practicality, or were they seeing something she and Shaun where very deliberately choosing not to look at.
The train from Denver to Cheyenne left in the morning, so they needed to stay overnight. For respectability and to not call any undue attention to themselves, they were traveling as Mr. and Mrs. Lee. They were so tired from the train, and glad to be off of it, that it didn’t occur to either them until they were standing at the front desk that there was no non-suspicious way to ask for two rooms, and that the clerk would absolutely give a young married couple a room with one double bed.
Shaun carried her bags along with his as they headed upstairs to the room. After opening the door, they both stared a the bed a few minutes, as if neither of them had seen one before. Finally, he said, "I can sleep on the floor.”
“No, you slept on the same train bench as me.” There was a tiny wooden chair in there, and she walked over to perch her hat on one of the corners. “Honestly, I don’t care if you molest me in the middle of the night as long as I can remain sleeping in a vertical position.” She took her hat and gloves off and tossed them on the chair. “Will you close the door?” she asked, as he was still standing in the doorway.
He jumped a little, but nodded and turned to nudge the door shut. He set the bags down but the end of the bed and started to shrug out of his own coat, as it was uncomfortably warm in the room.
Katy unbuttoned the jacket that made up her bodice, taking it off and folding it on the back of the chair. What was under it wasn’t so much a shirt as a corset cover, but close enough. She stopped then, and contemplated the logistics of this. At home this time of year she slept in a chemise on account of the heat, so she hadn’t thought to pack a nightdress. She hadn’t considered she might be trying to share a bed. She didn’t want to sleep in corset or the bustle under her skirt. She could bunch it up out of the way while sitting, but not while laying. Dealing with that seemed less fraught than the corset, so she unfastened the skirt, and then untied the bustle beneath it.
Out of corner of her eye, she could see Shaun had rolled his shirtsleeves up his forearms, something he did literally all the time at home and she had no idea why that suddenly felt intimate in this little room. He was unbuttoning his waistcoat and not looking at her, giving her a moment to stare before going back to her skirt.
It was fine. It would be fine. Her skirt was heavy and had several layers of draped fabric and pleats, and taking it and the bustle off without also taking off the petticoat beneath as usual took a surprising amount of shoving and pulling.
"Do you—" he started to say, then paused and tried again. "Can I help in anyway?”
“Almost got it,” she replied, pulling the petticoat’s ruffled trim free of the waistband of the skirt. “In hindsight, that probably should have gone up over my head.” Then she cleared her throat. “I was wondering, though, if you wouldn’t mind loosening my corset laces.”
"I can do that," he said, voice a little thin. She heard him walk closer, the boards creaking under his feet, and then he was deftly untying the knot in her corset and easing the laces looser. She undid a few buttons of her corset cover so he could push it up enough to loosen them all the way to the top. The chemise under the corset was thin, and she could feel the warmth of his fingers brush against her skin through it.
"Is that enough?" he asked, once he'd given her a couple extra inches of room.
“Yes,” she told him. “Thank you. I don’t want to sleep with it fully laced but I don’t want to get as undressed as I’d need to to actually get it off. Well, I could get it off, actually. It would be getting it on in the morning. The only thing under it is drawers and a chemise.” Katy bit her lip so she’d stop talking about her underwear.
"What's wrong with getting it back on?”
“I’d have to, you know, strip down to my chemise and drawers.” She could feel her face heating. “I don’t want to scandalize you.”
A paused. "You'd still be as dressed as I am. White women wear so many layers.”
Katy opened her mouth to attempt to explain that there were some significant coverage differences between wool pants and thin cotton split drawers—assuming that’s what he was talking about, and not stripping down another layer himself. To be honest she had no idea what men had on under their pants, if anything. But if he wasn’t going to be weird about it, neither was she. She didn’t want to sleep in a corset if she didn’t have to. She undid the rest of the corset cover and took that off, then the bottom petticoat she’d fought to take the skirt and bustle off around. “I don’t think white women like it, either,” was what she told him.
"I shouldn't think they do. There's a reason Mrs. Rogers walks around in trousers.”
“Maybe someday I’ll have that luxury,” she replied. She undid the hooks on the front of her corset. He’d have to tighten the laces in the morning, but it felt so nice to have it off. “The dress and the bustle and the frills is how I convey I’m respectable and not, you know, for sale. Because Frollo and his ‘all Chinese women are whores’ is much closer to the common sentiment than I’m comfortable with. Though I suppose Mrs. Rogers’s gunbelt would do it, too.” She put her corset on top of the now large pile of fabric on the chair.
Shaun cleared his throat. "Do you know how to shoot?”
“Nope. Do you?” She sat on the end of the bed, to take off her boots. Which was when she realized she’d forgotten her buttonhook. She could get them off without it, though getting them on in the morning was going to be a pain.
"Yeah. Not as well as fighting, but I hit what I aim at.”
He said that with such casual confidence, and she felt it in places she really shouldn’t be thinking about while sitting on the foot of a bed in her underwear. Or, well, maybe in other circumstances one would sit on a bed in their underwear, but not this one.
She distracted herself by pulling her foot up to her opposite knee so she could unbutton her boots. He fell silent watching her wrestle with them, and she decided to be grateful he wasn’t laughing. “As a bonus to traveling with me, you get a free circus show,” she said when she finally got the second one off.
"It's really more like a burlesque." He paused. "That was out loud, wasn't it?”
“It was. I’ve never been to a burlesque show.”
"They're usually not for… ladies.”
“Ah,” she said. “One of those.” There was no mirror in the room, but there was a window, so she went over to it to move the curtain and use the reflection to take the pins out of her hair. “Half naked ladies dancing about?”
"Sometimes they sing," he offered. "Sometimes they start out dressed and get half naked creatively.”
“How does one undress creatively?” She pulled her hair over her shoulder and combed out the tangles. It occurred to her, idly, that he’d probably never seen it down before.
"Fans and scarves are often involved. It's hard to explain.”
“We have to overnight in Cheyenne tomorrow, if you really want I can do a dance.”
He choked and coughed and she glanced over to see he had a hand over his eyes and was bright red. "Dammit Katy, the things you say.”
She stood up and went over to him. “Maybe, but you started it.” She reached up to peel his hand off his face. “I promise not to sing,” she said solemnly.
"That would be a mercy, thank you." He shook his head and smiled at her, fond and exasperated.
“I know there’s a lot coming up that probably isn’t going to be good,” she said, serious for once, not letting go of his hand. “I’m just trying to make you laugh a little.”
His thumb rubbed along hers. "You always make me laugh.”
“Good,” she told him. “We should probably get some sleep.”
"Sleep would be good," he agreed. He gave her hand a squeeze and went to sit on the far side of the bed. Hunching, he pulled his boots off before stretching out.
She got under the quilt and he did not. She supposed that was out of some sense of boundaries. But she put her head on his shoulder anyway. “Goodnight Shaun,” she murmured.
"Sweet dreams, Katy," he said, kissing her hair.
*
It was a testament to how tired he was that Shaun slept. It was warm in the room, and Katy had pretty quickly kicked off the blankets. She wasn’t a still sleeper, and when she’d finally settled she had one arm and one leg flung over him. At some point before that she’d sat up and made grumbling noises while yanking off her stockings. So it was a mostly bare leg laying across his.
His comment about them wearing the same clothing levels was probably not correct. The fabric of her current attire was not, strictly speaking, completely opaque. There hadn’t been any polite way to say that, so he just decided to ignore it. Unsuccessfully, but he did try.
Dawn was filtering in through the small window, and they should get up soon.
He had tucked an arm around her at some point, at least partially to keep her still for a little while. He rubbed her back gently, before moving to her hair and carefully combing his fingers through the long strands. "Hey," he said gently.
She curled closer to his body, nuzzling her face against his shirt. “Mmm. I hate morning.”
"I know. But we shouldn't miss the train.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t cheap.” She lifted her head to look at him, reaching up to absently rub the scruff on his jaw. “You sleep okay?”
"I did," he told her honestly. "When you stopped kneeing me in the hip.”
“Sorry,” she said, seeming to notice where her limbs were and pulling them back. He immediately missed the contact, particularly when she sat up. “I’ve never shared a bed with someone before.”
"You're remarkably comfortable staking your territory.”
“I suppose I do think of you as my territory,” she replied, pulling her hair over her shoulder to comb her fingers through it.
He watched her a moment. "I'm okay with that," he finally said, voice quiet.
She turned sideways so she could see him. In profile, backlit by the window, he could see the outline of her breast pretty clearly. But there was something so intimate about all this suddenly that it didn’t even seem out of place—and anyway he was more interested in watching her face, which didn’t have a trace of humor in it. “Yeah?”
"I haven't belonged to anybody in a long time," he admitted. "Not anyone I approved of, anyway. If I can beat up people who might hurt you, maybe I can also just be yours.”
“You are,” she said. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”
"I know. I really do appreciate it. All of it.”
She reached to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “Good. There’s no place I’d rather be than wherever you are.”
Impulsively, he caught her hand and turned to press a kiss in the center of her palm. "Even in Cheyenne?”
Her fingers stroked against his cheek. “Cheyenne, Deadwood, San Francisco. Home. China. I don’t care.”
They were absolutely not going to be the same people when they got back home. There was no way he could go back to being awkward best fiends. He didn't have time to study that right now, so he just nodded. "Me too.”
She was still, in a way that it was rare for her to be. Then she said, so soft he barely heard it, “I want to kiss you.”
He flashed a smile. Leave it to Katy to make it her idea. Sitting up to close the distance between them, he kissed her first. She sighed and her arms came around him. It would have been safer to stay sitting up, but somehow he ended up leaning back and pulling her down with him. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, and he took the opening to sink his fingers into it. He stroked the other hand down her back.
They should slow down, but it was like a damn breaking. They’d been pretending this didn’t exist for years. None of his reasons for doing so matter anymore. She knew everything, and she was still here.
He cupped her ass in his hand and tugged her closer, ‘till she was half on top of him and he could feel her warm weight and every inch of her body pressed against his. She’d braced herself on one elbow, fingers from that hand tangling his his hair. The other drifted downward, over his shoulder and arm and chest. Down until she found the bottom hem of his shirt, and she slipped her hand underneath. Her fingers splayed over his skin.
Her hand was cool and soft, delightful against his flushed skin. He ran his hands up her back, cupping the back of her head to hold her mouth to his, letting his tongue slide along hers in a mimic of what he'd like to do with her. She made a little noise in the back of her throat, pushing his shirt up higher. She sure seemed to feel the same sudden desperation that he did. He cupped one of her breasts through the thin fabric. It got him another one of those sounds, and then she lifted her head to look down at him, breathing hard.
For a few heartbeats they just stared at each other, then she reached up to pull at the drawstring over her chemise to loosen the neckline and pull it off her shoulder.
Pressing a kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder, he eased the chemise farther down, until it revealed the curve of her breast. He lowered his head farther, nuzzling at the soft skin, until he could run his tongue along her nipple. She gasped and pulled herself a little higher up him, to make it easier—invitation if ever there was one. Then she hitched a leg over so she nearly straddled him. Women’s drawers had no middle, so her bare inner thigh pressed against his skin in the space where she’d shoved up his shirt. When she shifted again, he could feel everything, including how wet she was.
He groaned against her skin then redoubled his efforts, laving her with his tongue before sucking hard. He let her feel a graze of his teeth and was very encouraged by the shudder it caused.
“I want…” she started, but trailed off like she couldn’t finish the sentence. It was possible she didn’t actually know the words.
"More?" he murmured.
“Yes,” she hissed, then dipped her head down to kiss his mouth again.
He kissed her with all the skill he had, mainly to distract her from the hand he let wander down her body and between her legs. He parted the fabric of her drawers and drew a finger along the seam of her sex. She shuddered again and arched into his hand. Keeping his touch light, he added another finger, exploring her carefully, before getting closer to her clit and circling his fingers around it, moving easily in the moisture she was producing.
“Please keep doing that,” she mumbled against his mouth. “Please. It feels like…”
“Feels like what?” he asked her, pressing a little firmer.
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” She rested her forehead against his and moaned, “Oh my god.”
He was not even a little surprised Katy was chatty for this particular activity. He kissed her mouth, then a line down her jaw, as he stroked her clit, ramping up the speed until she was rocking her hips and whimpering. Her hands clutched at his arms suddenly, and she let out a cry she tried to muffle by pressing her face into his shoulder. He could feel her shudder against him and pulse under his hand.
Stilling his fingers, he held her as she road it out, stroking her hair gently to calm her. He pressed little kisses into her temple and cheek and just enjoyed holding her for a few moments.
“What was that?” she whispered. “How did you do that?”
He couldn't help the little chuckle that spilled out of him. "Women have spots that no one tells them about.”
Out in the hall, someone knocked on the door and cheerfully called out, “Wake-up call!”
Shaun closed his eyes and sighed, mentally yelling every curse word he knew. "Right," he muttered “Train."
“Train,” Katy repeated, sounding equally enthusiastic. She did let go of him and flop onto her back. He opened his eyes in time to see her shiver and spread her hand over her lower belly. “All right, but seriously, I’ve never felt anything like that. I think I might have met Jesus. And I don’t even believe in Jesus.”
"Good, I don't want him getting credit for my hard work." He leaned over and brushed her hair out of her face. "It's called a climax.”
“You could bottle it and sell it like opium,” she informed him. She absently pulled her chemise back up over her shoulder, covering her breast. Which was disappointing, but probably a good idea given then had a train to catch. “Did you…” she started, then trailed off. “No, you don’t look like you saw Jesus.”
"I did not," he admitted. "Mine is messier and we don't have time.”
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to…I was just going to kiss you.”
"I know," he assured her. He had no doubt she had not intended this to go this far. "It's okay."
She just watched him, concern evident on her face. But not regret, at least that he could see. “Is it?” she asked, and he didn’t think she was talking just about that.
"It is with me," he said. "What about you?”
“You still mine?”
"Always," he promised. He had no idea what the future was going to bring, but as long as he was alive, he was hers.
“Then, yeah, it’s okay.” She leaned in to kiss him lightly, and then sat up.
He did the same, reaching over to grab his pocket watch to see just how much time they had. "Overnight in Cheyenne, you said?”
Katy looked over her shoulder at him—the bare one the chemise had fallen off of again, and nodded. “Yes.”
"We can continue this then?" He hadn't entirely meant to make it a question. But it came out as one anyway.
She grinned widely. “I think we’re going to whether we plan for it or not. Might as well plan for it. Plus, I do seem to owe you.”
His cheeks heated. "You don't— that's not why I want to—"
She put her fingers over his mouth to shut him up. “Hey. It’s okay to want things, you know.”
"I know but it's… feels impolite. To make it a quid pro quo thing.”
“Maybe I just want you to teach me how to make you feel as good as I did.” He suspected she wanted a lot of others things, too. Things he still didn’t know if he could give her. But he wanted to.
"I can definitely teach you," he said. "Anything you like."
"Then let's not miss our train.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “I need a little help getting dressed,” she added. He nodded, and then watched her shake out the various pieces of her attire. When he tightened the laces of her corset, he didn’t fight his impulse to kiss the back of her neck. She made a sound that caused him to give serious consideration to just pulling her back into the bed, to hell with the train.
The bustle and skirt made the endeavor a little less sexy and a little more ridiculous, and trying to get her boots buttoned without the forgotten buttonhook was it’s own endeavor.
By the time they were both dressed, he’d convinced his body to settle down, and the world felt a little more righted and normal. “Ready?” she asked.
"Yes." He scooped up the bags and offered her his arm. "Come on, Mrs. Lee.”
She smiled at him like sunshine, and tucked her hand in his.
It was five hours up to Cheyenne, and Katy spent most of it with her head on his shoulder, reading a book. At some point he put his arm around her, and they were quite content like that. They didn’t discuss that morning, but there wasn’t any tension or awkwardness. They were as they always were. Other than that when the train bounced or swayed too hard, she’d put her hand on his leg to brace herself, something she wouldn’t have done before. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have idly stroked the nape of her neck above her collar, either, yet today he did.
She read her book, and he got lost in his thoughts about just how crazy it was to be adding this, after all these years, into what was already a fraught mess. It was terrible timing. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.
She smelled surprisingly good for three days traveling and felt very right against his shoulder. This had been simmering for a very long time and it had been inevitable that one day it would boil over. At least this way they had some privacy.
“We should get in in time for dinner,” Katy commented. “I was chatting with the conductor, and he said the Deadwood stage office will be closed when we arrive, and leaves at dawn, so we’ll have to buy our tickets tomorrow, spend a second night in Cheyenne, and then get on the stage. Which is two days in a carriage and will probably make this train car look like Mr. Stark’s Pullman.”
He didn't comment. He was far more used to traveling rough than she was. "Two days of rest and a bed is probably a good idea.”
“Maybe I’ll even manage to find a bath.” She sounded very wistful about that.
"I will make every effort to acquire you a bath." Even if he had to carry the water himself.
Cheyenne was a crossroads for several rail lines, and had several hotels. One was very fancy. So fancy it had electric lights, which the both of them stopped and stared at glowing through the windows. A sign touted it’s amenities: the electric lights (“first in the territory!”), a telephone, a running-water bath in every room, and-
“What in Jesus’s name is a ‘flush-down water closet’?” Katy asked, squinting at the sign, which boasted one on every floor.
“Mr. Stark has one of those,” Shaun replied. “You press a button and it empties itself.”
“Huh. Can’t decide if that’s fascinating or disgusting.” She said that, but he could see by her face she’d landed on ‘fascinated’.
“We should stay here, it has baths.”
Katy rolled her eyes. “Fancy hotel like this isn’t going to rent us a room. Also, it’s two dollars a night.”
He considered a moment, eyeing the street. "Wait here," he told her. He took a step away, then turned back. "Seriously. Stay here. I'll be back in a couple minutes and I need you to please be standing right here.”
“If you’re about to do something illegal, I don’t want to know. But I will stand here.”
"Thank you." He was absolutely about to do something illegal and much as he enjoyed Katy in all her glory, she was not conducive to stealth.
He walked down the street, mingling with the crowd. Ducking and weaving through the people on the street, he played the bumbling, apologetic Chinaman, complete with accent and useless bowing, all while filching bills an coins from pockets. He lingered in an alley a couple minutes, then crossed to do the same thing on the other side, before returning to Katy, pocket stuffed with more than enough to get them a room.
Grabbing their bags, he nodded to her. "Come on.”
“Hang on,” she replied. “There’s still problem one.” She’d meant not just that it was too expensive—which it was—but that it was so fancy they wouldn’t rent to Chinese people. It didn’t sound like a protest, though, and sure enough she reached up and fussed with her hat, unrolling one of it’s decorative flowers to reveal a veil, which neatly obscured the top half of her face. She reached into his pocket and fished out the money, rifling through it until she found a $5 bill. From her skirt pockets she pulled a little tasseled bag, which she put the money in and hung off her wrist. She went back to the pocket for some change so it clinked. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. It reminded him a bit of the day they met. On account of the native-born accent and her brashly confident air, direct opposite of stereotypes, people perceived her as a white woman as long as they couldn’t see her eyes. She beckoned with her finger and said, “Come along,” before marching right into the lobby.
She walked right up to the desk and booked a room as Mrs. Katherine Lee. She handed the clerk the five and told him to keep the change. She gestured vaguely in Shaun’s direction with one hand and said, “I’m just going to have my boy bring my bags up. I don’t like strangers touching them.”
The clerk smiled and handed her a key.
Shaun had planned to just bluster and throw money around, and hope for the best, but this was much simpler. He ducked his head and gathered up the bags, following her towards the stairs.
Chapter 4: In Old Cheyenne
Notes:
My ADHD meds were in shortage and my brain doesn't work well without them. Editing and posting requires too much executive function. All better now, though, and back to posting.
This chapter is pretty much all smut. Whether that's an advertisement or a warning is in the eye of the beholder.
Chapter Text
Getting up to the 4th floor took forever, and then their room was all the way at the end of the hall. Katy was afraid to take her veil off until they reached it, and she was out of breath by the time they reached the right door. She opened it with her key, and found a corner room with three windows, a brass bed, rugs, a little table and chairs, and a fireplace. She took her hat off just to make sure she was seeing it correctly.
Shaun set their bags down and stretch. "Oh this was definitely worth some pick pocketing.”
Katy did a turn in the middle of the room. “This is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed.” There was a dresser with a mirror, too, and she put her hat and then gloves on top of it. There were two doors on the opposite wall. One revealed a closet. The other a small tiled room which contained a wash basin and a copper bathtub that ran the whole width of the room. “Oh,” she breathed.
"Told you I'd get you a bath," Shaun murmured, suddenly at her side.
She turned around and hugged him, holding him tight a moment. Then she went over to the tub. It had handles to turn to make the water flow, like the taps at bathhouse in Triskelion. She opened the hot up, and then remembered to plug the drain. How water sounded so very heavenly.
Shaun was still standing in the doorway, watching her. “Thank you,” she said, crossing back over to him, and leaning up to give him a gentle kiss. Which felt both terrifying and completely natural.
His arms came around her and he leaned in and deepened the kiss. For a moment she forgot about the bath and then just stood there like that. She felt a little like she was drowning, but it the best possible way. “So this is real,” she murmured against his mouth. The morning had been an interlude in the dawn twilight. Maybe it could be written off. But she felt this like a need.
The first time he kissed her it had been like someone starting a fire. She’d always known she felt something for him, but lust was sinful, and the province of men. The thread of attraction she hadn’t been able to suppress was all she thought it would ever be. Something she hoped would keep her warm, not something that might burn her alive. Maybe she could just worry about the consequences later. “It feels both insane, and the only thing that makes sense.”
"I guess we could try stopping," he said. "But I don't think it'd work very well.”
“You’d stop if I so much as hinted at it,” she said, with absolute confidence. “You’d sleep in that tub if you had to.”
"That is entirely true.”
“I’m a little terrified,” she said honestly. “I know this shouldn’t be scarier than taking off to Deadwood to meet your father’s crazy assassins, but I think it might be. In part because I’m not, strictly speaking, actually 100% sure of the mechanics of the whole thing which is it’s own issue, but somehow I still want to. A…lot.”
He smiled gently and lifted a hand, stroking some of her hair out of her face. "We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. But I am more than happy to go over the mechanics as much as you like.”
The touch distracted her, and she turned her face towards his hand. “Also, if I get in trouble, it would ruin my life.”
"I won't let that happen.”
She had no idea how he could promise that, and maybe it was foolish to decide that was good enough. But her impulse control had never been the best. And every instinct in her was screaming how much she wanted him. “Let me take my bath,” she said softly. “And then…”
He nodded. "Take all the time you need.”
There was plenty of hot water now, so she went back to add cold. That would run for a while, so she hesitantly asked, “You want to help me with the dress?”
An expression she couldn't name crossed his features, but then he smiled. “Absolutely."
She went back out into the main room, and carefully disassembled the components. After the jacket he helped her get the skirt and bustle up over her head in reverse of that morning. Then the layer beneath, which he liked to make fun of as being too many. Tonight he was quiet. She was down to the corset and picking the knot proved impossible. She told it was his problem since he’d done it, and presented him her back.
Tugging at her waist indicated he'd started. She was a little surprised to feel the brush of his lips on the nape of her neck, just as the laces started to loosen and she could breathe deeper. Once the were loosened, he pulled her back against his chest, reaching around her to open the hooks. He just let it drop, and then cupped her breasts in his hands through her chemise. She leaned her head back, turning it so he could kiss her neck. And almost asked him to take her to bed right then. “Bath,” she murmured instead, and he let her go.
Normally she wouldn’t undress completely out in the main room before bathing, but the way he was looking at her, she imagined he’d really enjoy it if she did. “Shall I attempt a burlesque dance?” she asked.
"Curious as I am to see your interpretation of that, if might take up precious bath time.”
“Fair,” she replied. She pulled the chemise over her head, and tossed it at him. He caught it with a laugh, and then she could see him swallow when he actually looked at her. There was less laughter when she repeated it with her drawers. This was as naked as she’d every been with another person. This wasn’t getting carried away while kissing. This was deliberate.
The stockings she didn’t throw, but the way he looked at her when she rolled them down heated her. The air in the room felt charged. She got the distinct impression that if she didn’t move, he might tackle her. For a moment she just stared back at him, then he pointed at the bathroom door, and she took the hint.
"Enjoy," he called, clearing his throat as she headed into the room. Her knees felt weak.
The water was absolutely perfect as she sank into it. There was soap on a little shelf, and she grabbed it to scrub the travel dirt off her skin. It was just so warm and relaxing and nice on her stiff muscles after two days on the train that she wanted to float a little bit.
Her mind wandered, thinking about tonight, and about that morning. She felt too relaxed to think about the larger issues, so she just thought about how it felt, and how it might feel. He’d touched her in one specific spot that felt best, and said it was something no one told women about. Katy was a little offended by that. It was her body, wasn’t it? There shouldn’t be things that it did that no one told her about, but apparently told men. It wasn’t fair.
She put one of her hands under the water, down between her legs, curious if she could find the spot herself. They way he’d touched her and looked at her while getting undressed had made her ache, and pressing on that spot made the ache somehow both better and worse.
It didn’t take her long to figure out the right way to do it, and when the burst of pleasure finally arrived, she made a noise loud enough Shaun knocked on the door and asked her if she was alright.
“Hey, come in here,” she called back.
The door handle turned and he peeked his head in before opening it a little more and stepping partially inside. "Everything okay?”
She sat up in the tub. “Shaun,” she said, absolutely delighted. “The thing you did to me. I figured out how to do it to myself.”
He made a weird choking noise, then chuckled and shook his head. "Good for you, Katy.”
“Do you want a bath?” she asked him.
"Probably," he said after a moment's consideration. "Given our plans for later.”
“Yeah, I was dirtier than I thought I was.” She pulled the plug on the tub, and then asked, “Could you hand me a towel?”
Stepping further into the room, he grabbed a big fluffy towel and held it out for her to step into. She stood and let him wrap her in it, and hug her a moment. He kissed the top of her head, and then she said, “Enjoy your bath.” Instinct told her he wouldn’t get to if she kissed him on the mouth.
Out in the main room, she opened her bag and pulled out a clean chemise and drawers. She’d packed changes of underthings, a simple calico dress that seemed more fitting for a mining town, an alternate bodice for the bustle dress, and a shawl—which was about all she could fit. There was no way to take any actual additional dresses without trunks, and no way to get the trunks out without her parents noticing. She regretted not packing a dressing gown, though it was so warm she was probably more comfortable without it.
Desperate for something to do with her hands while she waited, she hung her dress components in the closet along with his jacket and waistcoat to brush the dirt out and let them air. Then she went back to the bathroom and knocked. “Hey, can I have your pants?”
A pause. "Are you going to hide them or something?”
That made her laugh. “No, I was just going to hang them and brush the dust out with the rest.”
"Oh right. You can come grab them.”
She let herself into the bathroom. He’s draped his clothes over the sink and she gathered them all up. He was in the tub with his arms draped over the sides. They were very well muscled, as were his shoulders and chest and everything else she could see. She’d never seen a naked man before, but something told her most of them didn’t look like that.
He watched her as she bundled up the clothes and after staring for probably too long, she met her gaze. It was dark with something she couldn't name, but he smiled a little. "You okay there?”
Katy swallowed. She could almost hear her own heartbeat as she had a wild thought about climbing in there with him. “Finish your bath.”
"I intend to," he told her, still watching.
A shiver ran through her, and then she made herself go. She managed to distract herself finishing up hanging and brushing the clothes.
She was just finishing when she heard the water in the tub start to drain and the quiet sounds of Shaun getting out and drying off. The bathroom door opened and he came out, a towel wrapped and tied around his waist. "Of course, there was a downside to you absconding with my clothes.”
“I’m failing to see the downside for me,” she told him, walking over, drinking him in. “I’m going to soak the washables in the tub so we have clean things for the stage ride. I’m hoping that will do and they don’t need a scrub. I don’t want to spend the evening bent over a bathtub.” That caused him to close his eyes, so she added, “What?”
"I'll explain later," he said, voice oddly gruff.
“You’ve got quite a bit of explaining on your docket.” She reached out to touch him because she couldn’t resist, flattening one of her hands on his chest. He glanced down, then lifted a hand to cover hers, tracing his fingertips along the bones, down to her wrist. It was such a gentle, tender touch. “You seemed to know where my buttons were, but I don’t know anything about yours.”
He smiled a little, then seemed to grow serious. "Do you know anything about male anatomy?”
“I’ve changed many a diaper in my day. Though where an adult man falls on the scale between ‘little boy’ and ‘horse’—I’ve seen animals mating—I don’t entirely know. Oh, wait, there was a man loitering in a doorway in San Francisco once who whipped it out and offered me a nickel to suck it, and then my father punched him. At the time I thought it was just a sausage that he was holding very weirdly and was confused, because I was nine.”
Shaun shook his head. "Good for your dad. Men are… proportional, on the baby to horse spectrum. Most of our spots involve that particular body part, and behind it, though I'd consider that a more advanced class.”
Time, they had. He still held one one hand against his chest, and she touched the edge of the towel with her other. “Can I…?”
His throat worked and he released her hand. "Please don't run screaming or whatever it is virgins do. I promise I won't hurt you.”
That made her chuckle. “Shaun, I don’t run screaming from things I should flee.” She untucked the towel and let it drop. For a moment she just studied him, honestly wondering what he was so worried about. Then just from her gaze it started to swell, even more so when she reached out to touch, getting harder and larger. “Oh, this is fascinating.”
He laughed and shook his head. "Only you, Katydid.”
It made him inhale when she stroked the pad of her thumb over the head, so she repeated the motion. “That the button?”
"Probably the closest equivalent," he agreed. "Stroking the whole thing feels good, too.”
She wrapped her fingers around it and moved her hand up and down, squeezing a little each time at the end, just on instinct. “And what about that whole sucking thing?”
He shuddered. "Um. That's good too." His hips rocked a little, like he was chasing her hand.
Just asking had caused a reaction. Now she really wanted to. So she leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth and asked, “Can I try it?”
He closed his eyes and caught her mouth for a proper kiss. "Yes," he said finally. "Watch your teeth, don't take it so deep you'll gag. And if you don't like it you can stop any time.”
The were a foot from the bed, so she nudged him. “Sit.” Seemed like it would be easier that way. She knelt down in front of him and then he tugged at her chemise, getting her to lift her arms so he could pull it off. Might as well be naked.
She couldn’t actually get a whole lot in her mouth, but considering the sounds he made just from her sucking on the tip, it did seem to be working. His hand came down on her head, fingers winding through her hair. He nudged her, very gently, getting her to move slightly on his length. He groaned at that and the member twitched in her mouth.
It surprised her how much it aroused her. She figured out how to take more, and move more, because he really seemed to like it. His eyes were dark when she looked up at him, and he held her gaze, until he leaned back braced on one arm, and tipped his head back.
Her jaw started to ache, though, so she finally had to pull back.
Shaun let out a long, slow breath, still stroking her hair a little. "You okay?”
“Yeah.” She moved her jaw from side to side to stretch it. “I just need a minute. I have to admit that would be easier if it were, you know, smaller. Though imagine this isn’t what you were worried I’d be afraid of.”
His laugh sounded very strained. "No, I didn't imagine you'd be saying that.”
Katy got up and sat on the bed, and then leaned over to kiss his chest. “I know there’s another part,” she murmured. “Where you’re inside me.”
His arm came around her. "Yeah. I'm told it hurts sometimes. The first time.”
“And yet you were promising nothing would hurt.” She nudged him to show she was teasing.
"Well, I'll do my best to keep it from hurting. And every woman's different. I just wanted to warn you.”
“How? I mean how do you make it not hurt. It does…seem like it would.”
He cleared his throat. "You know how you're wet down there? And after your climax you felt relaxed?" She nodded. "Doing that ahead of time can loosen you up enough to help with the pain.”
“Ah. Well. Even if it does hurt, I probably won’t care.”
Nuzzling at her shoulder, he pressed a few soft kisses to her collarbone. "That's the goal.”
“I want you so much,” she whispered. “I know I’m supposed to wait, but I don’t want to.” She’d spent half the train ride thinking about it, staring blankly at her book. She didn’t know what was waiting for them in Deadwood. She knew he wasn’t exaggerating about the danger, and one or both of them could very easily die. Losing him scared her more than dying. She didn’t want to collect more regrets than she had to. “Life is too short.”
He studied her face, running the back of his hand along her skin. "If you're sure…”
“I want you to be the first I do this with.” She’d be happy if he were the only one she ever did this with, but she didn’t say it out loud.
Shaun nodded solemnly, then leaned forward to kiss her, cupping her face with one hand and tilting her so he could kiss her deeply. She wrapped her arms around him and he tipped her back on the bed. Him looming over her made something clench inside her.
For a few minutes he just kissed her, tender and sweet slowly becoming deeper and more intense. When she was breathing hard he left her mouth, kissing a trail down her body until he was nuzzling at the soft skin of her breast. She didn’t know where he got such patience, but he seemed to not want to leave an inch of her skin untouched. He was winding her up slowly, carefully, one quarter-turn at a time.
One hand drifted lower, parting the opening in her drawers to cup her mound. His fingers pressed close, parting her folds and he groaned. "You're soaking.”
“You’re good at this,” she replied, lifting up.
He chuckled and she could feel it against her skin. "I'm showing off a bit for you.”
“I’ll allow it,” she told him, running her fingers through his hair. He’d cut off the queue years ago, but still kept it a little too long for current fashion, which she’d always secretly liked.
He pressed a kiss to her belly, just above the waist of her drawers. Then he ducked his head down and she could feel his breath stir her hair. Before she could really wrap her mind around that, he shifted closer and she could feel him lick her.
That felt even better than his hand—or hers—and she gasped and arched her back. He licked and sucked and traced some kind of pattern with his tongue. She opened her legs wider as he slid some of his fingers inside her. She’d never had anything inside her and her body clutched at him.
He made some sort of noise in response, and the vibration of it shot through her. He stroked her with his fingers, in and out, as his tongue seemed to zero in on the little nub that seemed to be the trigger for all her pleasure.
She flung her arms out for something to hold onto, but all she found to grasp was the bedspread. If she didn’t ground herself she though she might fly apart. Maybe she would, and that would be okay, as long as he didn’t stop. She begged him that, and he squeezed her thigh in reassurance.
Something snapped then, and it washed over her like rolling waves bliss and relief. She cried out, unable to keep it in.
She felt him move away, his fingers slowing as she rode it out. At that point she was past caring. When she'd caught her breath and opened her eyes again, he was sitting up, hand on her thigh, smiling enigmatically as he watched her.
For a moment all she could do was give him a drowsy smile. She was melted and would let him do anything he wanted to her right now. When she finally mustered energy, she untied her drawers so she could pull them off. She wanted nothing on her. There was something very intimate about being completely naked together. “Come here,” she whispered.
Dropping an oddly affectionate kiss on her belly, he climbed up and kissed her mouth. She could taste herself on his lips. He settled between her legs without putting too much of his weight on her, and she wrapped them around him. She looked down between them so she could watch him enter her.
He moved slow, achingly slow. Occasionally he would stop and ease back a little before moving forward again. It was very gentle and he held himself tense, clearly watching her for any sign of pain or regret.
Nothing hurt, not even a little. “Good,” she whispered. “You feel good.” On so many levels beyond just this one. It felt right. He took such care with her, treating her like she was precious, without treating her like she was fragile. Maybe they didn’t ever say it, for whatever their complicated reasons were, but when someone loved you enough, you could feel it. She hoped he understood, too.
He kissed her tenderly as he slipped in that last little bit, seating himself to the hilt. Pausing to brush her hair out of her face, he braced himself on either side of her head and started to move, sliding almost entirely out before filling her again.
All she’d wanted for this part was it to not hurt, but it felt good. Very good. Every time he moved it seemed to tug on that spot, and stroke against something on the inside. She began lifting to meet him, wanting more. She reached up and held on to his wrists just to have something to anchor her, and he moved one hand to lace their fingers together.
He was able to bend a few times to kiss her. But the more comfortable she grew, the faster he moved, stroking her a little harder. He was watching her face carefully when he whispered, "Are you going to come for me again?”
The words shot through her. “Yes,” she managed to reply. “Yes. Yes.” As long as he didn’t stop. The tension in her twisted and turned, and it felt so close. She could feel her legs tremble, “Shaun, I—“ She broke off as the first spark of it set off. “Oh, god, right there,” she gasped, trying to hold him still for just one second, before it finally overwhelmed her.
He thrust inside her a few more times as she rode it out, then pulled from her and she felt something hot and wet hit her thigh. He collapsed on top of her as they both tried to catch their breath. With her fingertips, she stroked his back, damp from sweat or the bath or both, as her body shivered with little aftershocks. For the moment, she was entirely speechless.
After a few minutes, he shifted to the side so as not to crush her, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. "This is the longest you've ever gone with out talking in my presence.”
She made a humming sound, then murmured, “Maybe you broke me.”
"Oh, I wouldn't like to do that. I like when you talk.”
She actually lifted her head to look at him. Most people thought she talked too much as wished she’d shut up. But he meant that. Already feeling raw, tears stung her eyes. “Thank you,” she managed, so he wouldn’t think she was upset.
Smiling, he kissed her gently, then brushed at her cheeks with a thumb. "Everything okay? Not sore?”
Upon consideration, she reported, “I seem to be sticky. But otherwise I feel great.”
"That is probably best case scenario." He kissed her again, then got up and went to the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a damp face cloth he used to gently clean her thighs and the juncture between them.
“That the messy you were talking about?”
"That's it," he confirmed, tossing the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom before rejoining her on the bed and tugging her into his side.
“There’s a sign on the telephone that says if you call downstairs, they can bring up food. I could wash the clothes and we could order food and then lock the door and stay in bed while the clothes dry.”
"That sounds like an excellent idea," he told her. "Order lots.”
Chapter Text
Shaun woke up in the morning with Katy draped over him again. She hadn’t been as restless, but she had still sprawled. They were naked, and he didn’t worry about where he put his hands.
They certainly weren’t friends anymore. They were lovers now. It felt less like something new than it did a missing piece settling into place. Yeah, they probably should have done this in the proper order. They probably should have gotten married years ago like everyone expected. He’d fix that when they got back home.
For the moment, he tugged her against his chest, dropping a kiss on top of her head. They weren't leaving today, so they could lay here a bit longer. Last night Katy had gotten on the telephone with the front desk and told them a completely bullshit but convincing story about how Union Pacific hadn’t taken her trunks off the train and they were now halfway to San Francisco. Her husband was waiting for her in Deadwood. She couldn’t come down for dinner because she had nothing to wear, and wanted them to send up two dinners because she was eating for two.
By the end of the conversation, she’d arranged to use the hotel’s laundry service, dinner as well as meals for the following day, for someone to go purchase their stage tickets, and for someone to go to a local store and purchase her a dressing gown and a buttonhook. (Because she’d given her servant the day off and he was probably already drunk.)
She’d still needed to wash his shirts, and while she was doing that she asked him to explain why he’d found scrubbing laundry a turn on. Which led to her wanting to try being bent over the bathtub. That had been very entertaining.
As far as he knew the shirts were still floating in the water in there. At least he had one clean one left.
Katy stirred and stretched and turned her head to kiss his chest. “Good morning.”
"Morning." He stroked her hair, running his fingers through it to pick out tangles. "Good? Not sore?”
“Maybe a little, but the good kind.” She paused. “I may have bruised my knees.”
"Ah. Sorry about that. Maybe you can charm some ice out of someone.”
“We have nothing to do today but lay around in bed, I think you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”
He kissed her shoulder. "I'll put my considerable mental skills to it.”
“I have faith. I think breakfast will be here soon, and I need to wring and hang up the shirts first, though.” She sat up, stretching her arms over her head.
"I would appreciate a dry shirt," he admitted.
“I’d be happy if you were shirtless forever,” she said, getting up to put her dressing gown on. “But I think that’s frowned on.”
"I will have to go outside eventually. I'm sure there's some sort of dress code on the stage.”
“Yeah, probably.” He watched her until she disappeared into the bathroom.
They got the shirts wrung out and hung up, and ate the breakfast that was delivered. Then they did go back to bed, and spent the day exploring and learning all the ways to give each other pleasure. As was her way, Katy wasn’t shy and had a million questions about everything, and he was happy to teach her.
However strong their bond had been before, it was something entirely different now.
The sun was setting. Dinner had been eaten, and her clean laundry had been delivered. They’d leave before dawn, and were resting before they had to get up and pack. “Is it always like this?” she asked him.
"No," he said, laughing a little. "You're something special.”
All of the sex he’d ever had been transactional. The first time had been with a concubine his father had hired specifically for the purpose of teaching him, because that was how his father operated. After that, even after he’d come east, it seemed safer. It wasn’t like he could have a relationship with all this hanging over his head. And anyway, even if he couldn’t admit it, his heart had always belonged to someone else.
“Have you been with a lot of women?” Katy asked.
With most women there was no right answer to this question, "Define a lot.”
She poked him in the ribs. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s normal for men. I’m just curious if it’s practice or natural talent.”
"Around ten," he said finally. "I don't know where that fits on the male average.”
“Any of them run screaming?”
"No." He felt vaguely embarrassed by this part, though he wasn't sure why. There was a brothel in their town. She was friends with some of the workers. "They were professional.”
“Honestly, probably better than then being out there deflowering virgins.” She looked over at him. “Am I the only, well, regular woman?”
"You are," he confirmed.
He could see that pleased her. “I’ve heard it that sex is a need for men, and an obligation for women. I didn’t realize it would be this much fun."
"I think it's supposed to be fun for everyone. Women can just be harder to wind up and please. So men make them think they don't need it so they don't have to bother.”
“Seeing as there are men who seem to enjoy themselves even when the woman is actively trying to fight them off, I can’t disagree.”
"Those men deserve to be castrated.”
“I can’t disagree with that, either.” She reached for one of his hands, and held it between both of hers. “Whatever happens in the future, I am very grateful for knowing what it’s supposed to be like.”
He smiled tenderly and tugged their hands close so he could kiss her knuckles. "I hope it's always good for you." Even if the idea of anyone else being with her caused his stomach to sour.
“Right now I am yours,” she said after a moment. “For as long as I can be.”
"And I am yours," he promised. With a smile, she leaned in to kiss him. They didn’t have to pack quite yet.
When they finally got to packing, Katy pulled a canvas bag out of her other bag that he hadn’t know was in there. He watched her collapse her bustle down and tie it with string, and carefully fold and roll the draped skirts and bodice, until she got the whole thing in the bag, along with the new dressing gown. In the morning she put on a much simpler calico dress, the kind she often wore with an apron when working in the restaurant. “Not sitting in a stagecoach for two days in a bustle,” was what she told him.
Because the hotel had procured the tickets for them, they’d gotten Katy a ‘first class’ seat—inside, with a back—and Shaun, who was supposed to be her servant, a ‘third class’ seat, riding outside on top of the coach. Which honestly suited him just fine.
The manifest the stage driver had listed her as Mrs. Lee and him as just Chinaman.
“You must be going to work for Madame Zuzu,” the driver said to Katy. “I know to take good care of her girls. If you have a nice trip, maybe you’ll give me a go for free.”
Before Shaun could open his mouth to be offended, Katy said, “If I have a very nice trip, and it’s okay with Madame, maybe so.”
Shaun quietly made a mental note to beat the guy senseless once he had the opportunity.
Katy shrugged as Shaun helped her up into the coach. “He’ll have better manners if he thinks there’s something in it for him.”
While that was probably not wrong, if she hadn’t said it, he wouldn’t have had to listen the driver and the shotgun later openly discussing what they thought her breasts looked like. He contemplated upping the beating to disemboweling. For both of them.
Otherwise the ride on the roof wasn’t that bad. It was hot in the sun, and the two other men up there clearly had not bathed in weeks, but the fresh air and scenery were nice, and he’d traveled and slept in worse condition.
He could hear Katy holding court in the carriage below, clearly having made everyone in there her friend. Shaun was happy to spend the trip watching the view and listening to her voice below. Sounded like she was telling everyone down there her life story.
They stopped to change horses pretty often, so everyone could get out and stretch or see to their bodily needs. At mid-day there was a meal, and it was clear the inside passengers knew who he was—at least, that he was the Mr. Lee to her Mrs.—and there had been a mix-up with the tickets. They insisted Shaun come eat with them, which was a nice gesture from a couple of older white men.
By dinner, some portion of that information seemed to have made it to the driver and shotgun. Shaun could tell by the way they were eyeing him. The next horse change after dinner it was dark, and he was standing around waiting for Katy to use the stop’s outhouse—he didn’t let her get much out of sight given it was a tavern full of drunk miners—when the shotgun wandered over.
“So, uh, Joe and I was wonderin’, you’re watching her a lot, are you her pimp?”
Shaun stared him down a moment. “No."
“Are you bothering her?”
He almost laughed. "No. Why the concern?”
“Just wonderin’ what was going on. We’re responsible for our passengers.”
"I think you'll find the lady is not one to allow someone to mess with her.”
“All right, well, that I do believe.” He paused. “You got a name?”
"Shang," he said, for some reason not wanting to use his usual name.
“We’ve had a lot of trouble lately with the robbers. Lotta hold ups. They want the money coming in or the gold going out of Deadwood.”
"Good to know. I'll keep an eye out.”
“They bother her, and you should tell ‘em she works for Madame Zuzu. Even if she doesn’t. All them lowlifes are scared of her. She once nailed somebody’s nuts to a chair.”
That surprised a laugh out of him. "Sounds like my kind of woman.”
“If she’s got a price, I ain’t never herd it. But she runs her joint with an iron fist.”
Katy came out of the outhouse then, and shook out her skirt. She frowned in their direction as she went over to the water pump to wash her hands.
"Thanks for the advice, mister," Shaun said, down grading him to a light tap or two if he got out of line.
He walked away as Katy approached. She raised an eyebrow at Shaun. “Everything okay?”
"Yeah. He was warning me about robbers on the road, holding up the stage. Said if they come for you to tell them you work for Zuzu. She doesn't let people mess with her stuff.”
“Oh, the driver is clearly afraid of her. Hence my agreeing that I worked for her. Seemed better to just go along with it.” Katy smiled. “Hey, she clearly hired Chinese girls. Maybe that’s where your sister is.”
"Seems likely. Apparently, she's a ball buster. Literally. You two will probably get along.”
Katy yawned. “All right, lets get back on this stupid coach. You okay up there on the roof? I feel bad.”
He shrugged. "I like it better than I'd like being stuffed in the coach. The air is mostly clean and it's not too hot.”
“All right. On we go.”
The stage rolled on overnight. Shaun slept fitfully on the roof. He’d assumed if there were robbers, they’d strike at night. That was the logical conclusion. But the night was uneventful. They passed the second day and night on the coach, with everyone on board being filthy and cranky by that point. The road got rougher the further they went, and sometimes everyone on top had to get off and walk on account of how steep the grade was.
One the last day, only a few hours from Deadwood, Shaun had the distinct feeling of being watched. It was broad daylight, but whomever they were, they were definitely out there.
He sat up a little straighter and kept an eye on the horizon, torn between vigilance and tipping off whoever was watching that he was onto them. The driver and shot gun did seem to notice his attention and got a little more on guard themselves.
They crawled on for a bit, the road in a stretch of cleared land with trees on one side and a slope on the other. The coach would be very easy to corner here. Shaun wasn’t even surprised at the particular bend in the road where they emerged from the trees. Five men on horseback, faces masked, with guns. Shaun had thought about buying a gun at the general store when they stopped at Ft. Laramie the previous morning, but it would have taken most of the rest of their money. At the moment he wondered if he should have.
The pitfalls of armed passengers became obvious a moment later when one of the inside passengers, who had brought a gun leaned it out the window and shot at the robbers. He didn’t hit any of them, but did prompt them to fire back. Shaun could see it coming and ducked down the back side of the coach, but one of the other men on the roof was hit, as was the driver. Both tumbled off their perches. The shotgun fired back, and the horses spooked, taking off at a run. The man dropped the gun to try and get them under control as the coach now careened down the road faster than it should have.
Shaun climbed down into the coach, bullets still flying and splintering the wood. One man was still trying to shoot out the window. The other two were shoving mail bags against the window and door. Katy was behind them, and looked none worse for the wear.
“They’re chasing us,” the man with the gun said. He was now trying to reload with shaking hands in the badly rocking coach, spilling bullets all over the floor. Marksman he clearly was not.
With a barely concealed sigh, Shaun took the gun from him, scooped up and handful of bullets and loaded it without looking. "We're close to town. Keep your heads inside, stay low and don't be stupid."
He leaned over and cupped the back of Katy's head to kiss her, then rested his forehead on hers. "You find my sister, you tell her you're bringing her to Ta Lo, can you remember that?”
“Shaun…” she started, but trailed off, and swallowed, and then said, “Ta Lo.” Grateful she wasn’t going to argue, he moved back towards the rear window to lean outside. Another bullet hit the coach and splintered the wood above the doorframe. Katy reached out and grabbed his shirt. “Shaun, wait.”
Reluctantly, he let her tug him back and turned to look at her. "Katy, I have to.”
She looked exasperated. “That was 26.” It was so not what he expected that it threw him, and then another gunshot cracked, and she said, “Twenty-seven.”
Holy shit. "Twenty-seven shots?" She nodded. "Not counting this idiot?" he gestured at the guy he'd taken the gun from. She nodded again. He grinned. "You're brilliant, I love you." He leaned in and kissed her again before climbing out of the wagon.
Number twenty-eight whizzed past him as he moved around the side of the wagon to get out of their eye line. Five guys with six shooters, meant two more shots and he had a window to do what he needed to do.
Leaning out, he took a shot, hitting the one on the far end in the shoulder, Shaun saw him flinch back. The last two shots rang out and he grinned, dropping from the stage and rolling with the momentum before hopping to his feet.
They paid him no mind and kept after the stagecoach, until he shot another one of them, and then the three remaining wheeled around and fired empty, clicking guns at him. They were trying to rein their horses and reload that the same time.
Shaun had three bullets left and figured he might as well even the odds. He took one more down and wounded the second before hitting empty. Tossing the gun aside, he sprinted towards the slowing horses.
The first guy was still loading, so Shaun just half jumped, got a good fistful of jacket, and hauled him off the horse. The guy had shot at them, so he had no compunctions against slamming his head into the ground and breaking his neck. The whole move took less than half a minute. Then he turned to the last guy, to find he'd finished loading and was lifting the gun to aim it.
Contrary to all right thinking, Shaun ran towards him, dropping and sliding the last couple feet to go under his horse. Years of working at the stables meant there wasn't a saddle in the west he couldn't fasten or unfasten with his eyes closed. As he slid, he grabbed the loose end of the buckle and yanked, hard, loosening it. The robber cursed and grabbed at the horse's mane to stay upright.
So when Shaun hopped up on the opposite side of the horse, he was already off balance. Throwing himself over the back of the animal, he knocked the man's gun away and took them both down into the dirt.
His hand-to-hand combat skills weren’t anything close to Shaun’s, and he was flailing. It was easy to get the upper hand. Once he’d knocked him out, Shaun stood and shielded his eyes from the sun to see where the stage was. He caught sight of it far up the road, and just before it went around a bend and out of sight, he realized the was no one in the driver's seat.
Shit.
*
Katy didn’t know if the man driving the stagecoach got shot or just lost his balance, but they all saw him go past the window as he tumbled off. The shooting had mostly stopped, and Katy stuck her head out to see if she could see Shaun, who seemed to be wrestling on the ground with one of the robbers.
“No one’s driving,” Mr. Dunham said.
“Clearly,” Katy said. She doubted any of them had the skill to stop it even if they had the dexterity to climb up there—which she highly doubted. When he’d started working at the livery stable, she’d convinced Shaun to teach her to ride and drive a wagon. Years later, she’d asked their blacksmith, who’d once been a stagecoach driver, how one drove a really large team, and he’d explained it. Hopefully that explanation had been good enough.
Climbing up there safely in long skirts was going to be a problem, and she was so grateful she wasn’t wearing the bustle. Her petticoat was easy to untie and take off, then she hitched up her skirt, shoving handfuls under the back of her corset beneath the laces, holding it knee length. The three men in the carriage looked scandalized. She tossed her petticoat at Mr. Dunham. “Rip this up for bandages, they might need it back there.”
“What are you doing?” he replied.
“Going up to stop the horses.”
“They’ll stop on their own,” Mr. Byrne said. Just as he did the road curved. The horses followed it, and the coach listed so hard it went up on two wheels. It was probably only all the mailbags piled on one side that kept it from tipping.
Katy gave them all a significant look, yanked her hat off, and heaved herself out the window. She climbed carefully around and up to the box, which was one of the most terrifying things she’d ever done. Part of her skirt came loose and caught on something. She yanked until it ripped, tearing of a large hunk of the fabric.
The reins were still threaded, thank god. She had all six. She had to squint in the dust to figure out which one was which, and had to stand up to have enough strength to pull. If one set stopped but the others didn’t, they’d have a crash. Calling to them to try and calm them down, she pulled the reins in sequence, until they slowed out of their panicked gallop, down to a trot in time for another turn that absolutely would have tipped them at speed, and then a walk and then finally, what felt like a mile later but was probably only a few dozen yards, to stop.
Katy sat down on the box to catch her breath, and contemplate throwing up.
"Holy hell, you did it," Mr. Dunham said, sticking his head out the window.
Behind them there were hoofbeats, and she turned to see Shaun coming around the bend on one of the robbers’ horses—looking none the worse for the wear, thank God. He pulled up short when he saw her standing up there, the horses calm and munching on roadside grass. She waved to him, then tied off the reins so she could climb down.
He rode to meet her, dropping down before the horse had fully stopped and wrapped her in his arms. "You okay?”
She pressed her face against his neck and closed her eyes, holding on as tight as she could. His pulse was beating as fast as her heart was pounding. “I am, are you?”
"I am. I'm fine. Need another bath, though.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
He sighed and rocked her a moment. "Not the way I planned telling you.”
“Nothing we do is normal.”
"That's true." He stroked her hair and lifted her head. "We should head into town. Report the bodies at least.”
He and the other men went back to see who was still alive, which turned out to be the shotgun and one of the other men on the roof. Three of the robbers seemed to still be alive, but no one was interested in helping them. They carried the two injured men back to the coach and Katy tied bandages and splinted the shotgun’s broken leg. They then got the driver and dead passenger’s bodies and put them up on the roof of the stagecoach.
The the five loose horses hadn’t gone far, and they were collected as well.
“We can leave the coach to the injured and ride the horses,” Mr. Byrne said. “But someone is going to have to drive the coach.”
“I’m driving it,” Katy said. When she got faces from all of the white men—because of course—she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry I’m a little Chinese girl and am disrupting your worldview, but does anyone else here know how to drive a six-hitch?”
Shaun did, but stayed quiet and crossed his arms, staring down the other men from behind her shoulder. No one volunteered or complained again, so she nodded and he helped her up into the seat, taking the gun left up there to keep with him. "I'll ride at the front and keep an eye out," he told her. "Scream if there's a problem.”
“I promise,” she replied.
And that’s how they rolled into Deadwood, a woman in a hitched up, ripped dress driving a stagecoach with holes in the wood and bodies on the roof.
Law Enforcement in town wanted to talk to Shaun and the other men, and she had a spike of fear everyone would find some racist way to accuse him of murder, since the robbers had been white. But the other men from the stage were pretty adamant about what had happened, so she hoped it would be fine.
A man who worked for the stagecoach company came to deal with it and the horses, and the postmaster came for the mail. Katy ended up in the Marshall’s office trying to make her skirt look less indecent while Shaun finished officials.
They were greatly skeptical Katy had stopped the coach. Despite her having carefully guided it down the road into the valley in full view of the entire town.
The Deputy glanced over at her, then asked Shaun, “She a whore?”
"She's my wife," he said, standing up a little straighter.
The Deputy blinked, then muttered, “Jesus. I’m sorry. I just assumed because of the dress—” He broke off and looked over at Katy. “Ma’am, I’m sorry.” He stood up and pulled a long duster off a coat hook on the wall, holding it out to Katy. “You can borrow this.”
“Thank you,” she replied, startled by the change in tone.
“Charlie!” he bellowed, and a young man came out of the back. “Will you please escort Mrs. Lee down to a hotel and see she gets a room?”
“Yes, sir.”
Katy made amused eye contact with Shaun, who shrugged. Deputy was still talking. “Just tell him which bags are yours,” he said to Katy. “He’ll help you to get a room and some supper. I need your husband to take us back to the scene of the crime while there’s still light.”
“Thank you. I am quite tired,” Katy said, sounding as proper as she could.
"See if they'll give you a bath, too," Shaun said, reaching over to palm her some coins. "You deserve to relax a bit after the day you had.”
She wondered if that money was from the robbers’ pockets, which would amuse her. She squeezed his hand, and then went to show Charlie where their bags were.
The hotel was nowhere near as nice as the one in Cheyenne, but it was clean and comfortable looking. Someone brought her up dinner—a hearty stew and bread—and then a steel tub and buckets of water. It was more of a hip bath that she had to bend her knees to sit in. But it was hot and got her clean, so she had no complaints.
It was cooling but she was still sitting in it when there was a knock on the door. “Hey, it’s me,” Shaun called before opening the door. The tub wasn’t visible from the door, so he was in the room before he saw her.
As soon as he closed the door, she stood up and held out her arms.
He peeled his shirt off, she supposed to keep her from getting dirty again, and crossed the room to hold her. "I gotcha," he murmured in her ear.
For a minute they just hung on, and then she leaned back enough to kiss him. It was rough and hungry, channeling the fear and stress of the day. He groaned, cupping the back of her head as he kissed her back.
"How's the water?" he asked after a moment.
“Still a little bit warm.” She reached for the buttons on his trousers. “Want me to wash you?”
"Yes please, I am exhausted and filthy as I have ever been.”
She cupped his face in her hands. “I love you. I should have said it before you went out into a gunfight.”
"It's okay," he said, leaning on her. “Counting how many shots had been fired was, technically, more helpful.”
“I suppose I’d rather help you live than say goodbye properly.” His clothes were coated in actual dirt, like he’d been rolling in it. Which…he had. God knew where his jacket and waistcoat had gone. His suspenders were technically still attached, but one was broken. She stepped out of the tub and steered him over to the chair so he could take his boots and then pants off while she dried herself. The hotel maid had brought a stack of towels up for her with the bath. Katy grabbed a hand towel sized one and dunked it in the water, so she could wipe off the worst of the dirt before he got in the water.
"Thanks," he said, sounding tired. "This hotel nice enough to deliver liniment?”
“There’s a whole Chinese neighborhood here, I can go out and get something that actually works.” She tugged his hands. “Come on, in the tub.”
"Yes, ma'am." he climbed carefully, moving a little stiff, then sank down into the water with a grateful groan. "No one hassled you once you were out of my sight, right?”
“They did not.” She put some soap on the cloth and washed his shoulders and chest. “Charlie told the whole bar downstairs that my husband killed five robbers with one six-shooter while hanging off the back of a stagecoach. How fast would something like that get around in Triskelion?”
He chuckled. "Yeah. They're not gonna come near you.”
His legs hung out of the tub, and he let her wash them, and then sat up so she could scrub his back. He had bruises everywhere, some yellowing from the fight in Triskelion, and some more from today. She thought there was something of a milestone to this—it was immensely intimate. In a way that had nothing to do with sex. Not that she didn’t also find it erotic. And, very obviously, so did he.
She very much doubted he had the energy for much, but it was probably the best painkiller she could get him. So she reached under the water and wrapped her fingers around him.
He groaned, tipping his head back, eyes closed. "You don't have to—" he started to say, even as he lifted his hips into the touch.
“Shhh,” she told him, dipping her head to kiss his shoulder. She’d made good use of their two days in the hotel. She understood his buttons and how to press them.
Lifting a hand out of the water, he reached over and stroked her skin where he could reach. Nowhere interesting, mostly her free arm and back. But clearly it helped him relax as he gave into what she was doing.
It occurred to her that she did not have to use her hand for this. She leaned over and kissed beneath his ear. “I have an idea.”
"I'm slightly terrified," he murmured.
She withdrew her hand and he made a noise of disappointment. “Up, up,” she said, standing and pulling on him. “You can’t sleep in the tub anyway.”
Shaun groaned, but stood obediently as she tugged on him. He climbed out of the tub and stood while she perfunctorily dried him. Then she yanked the quilt back from the bed, and got him to lay down, which provoked another groan. Two nights on the roof of the coach had clearly taken their toll. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” she told him.
"I make no promises," he muttered, throwing one arm over his eyes.
“I’ll send you off to dreamland well,” she told him, bending down to take him in her mouth.
"You're a good fake wife," he managed to get out, before she curled her tongue around him and his words were lost in a groan.
She didn’t know why, but the ‘fake’ stung. Even though it was completely true. This was just an interlude. Personas they were using, like all the others. It was just starting to feel real, and she’d let it.
He was entirely consumed by what she was doing, and it didn’t take much to push him over the edge. She swallowed when he came—an incident the last night in Cheyenne had taught her the perils of not. When she lifted her head and looked up at him, she could see his whole body relaxing. She climbed off the bed to put on her dressing gown, and then tucked the quilt around him.
“Get some sleep,” she whispered, kissing the arm he had over his eyes, right beside the cut he’d gotten defending her the alley back home. “I’ll go see what liniment I can find.”
"Love you," he mumbled, barely coherent.
“I love you back.” She stroked his hair, watching him drift off. “For all my days.”
Notes:
The first thing I knew about this story was that at some point Katy drives a stagecoach.
The chapter titles, like all the titles in this series, are names of Westerns. I was delighted to find one so apropos.
Chapter 6: Welcome to Hard Times
Chapter Text
Shaun woke up in the dark, to the sound of humming and the smell of something strong and medicinal. He opened his eyes and Katy was sitting in a chair in front of their room’s little fireplace, humming to herself and making what looked like tea. She was wearing her fancy bustle dress again.
"How long was I asleep?" he asked, voice scratchy with sleep.
“Only about six hours,” she replied. “But according to the very insistent woman I got this tea from, you should have this before the bruises ‘set’, whatever that means. There’s also liniment, but we should discuss that.”
He sat up slowly. "Is it smelly?”
“Very. And the lady told me she usually wouldn’t recommend it for a young man with a new wife. I was too embarrassed to ask what she meant by that. I must have made a face because she quickly added it wouldn’t make you impotent and told me just to be careful where I put it and to wash my hands. So now I’m a little scared of it. But I did buy it.”
"I assure you, my cock is not in anyway one of the parts of me that's sore.”
“I did not know that word,” she replied, lifting and inspecting the tea strainer. Though she clearly understood what he meant. “But I like it better than some of the other one’s I’ve heard.”
His brows went up. "Now I'm curious.”
“Oh, no, most of them are terrible. My brother calls it his willie, for example.” She brought the cup over to him. “I think this town is going to be a bonanza of new, crude language. Someone downstairs told me he’d like to know what my pussy tasted like. From context I guessed what that was, and suggested that he ask you. Somebody else down there informed him my husband had killed six robbers with his bare hands.” She held out the cup. “Drink.”
Shaun took the cup and drank some. It tasted like medicine. "Point him out later, I'll make sure he doesn't forget.”
“I like that your legend is growing. This isn’t a town with a lot of morals, so I didn’t think we’d need to keep lying here. But it’s dangerous and that Mrs. clearly conveys significant protection. So i think I need to hang on to it a bit while we’re here. Oh! I almost forgot. I found Madame Zuzu’s place. It’s a burlesque show.” She looked delighted by that.
He had to laugh. "It's like its fate.”
“Can we go see the show? Maybe I’ll learn a few tricks.”
"Yes," he said, still laughing. "But only because I think it's the best place to look for Xialing.”
“It’s not like I can be more corrupted,” she replied. She nudged him to drink more tea, which tasted worse with every mouthful.
Pinching his nose, he took the rest down in one gulp and handed her the cup back. "That was foul.”
“Thank you for drinking it.” She stood up and brought it back to the table by the fire. “Yes or no on stinky liniment?”
He considered a moment. "Try it on my shoulders at least. They took a beating with all the falls.”
She nodded, then made a motion with her hand. “Turn over.”
Moving sounded like a hassle. But she poked him rather insistently and he finally rolled over to give her his back, settling his head on the pillow.
There was a moment of silence, then she said, “Gimme a second.” He heard a lot of fabric rustling. When he turned his head enough to be able to see her, she was in the middle of undressing. “Too much skirt,” she told him. She came back in her corset and underthings, a view he did not mind. Then she got a jar of something and came over to the bed, surprising him by straddling his back.
The liniment smelled strongly but not as bad as the tea tasted. When she rubbed it into his skin it made to somehow feel hot and cold at the same time—in a good way. The ache in his muscles and the sore spots he was sure were on their way to becoming bruises, seemed to melt away. He sighed in relief, relaxing onto the bed. "That feels good," he told her.
“I take excellent care of you,” she informed him. She rubbed his entire back, and just about put him back to sleep.
"You do," he agreed. "Did you find out when Madame Zuzu's opens?”
“The show is at 8. We can go tomorrow.” She climbed off of him, and he could hear her popping the hooks on her corset.
He was a little sorry to miss that. But he was exhausted and sore and apparently not supposed to get this stuff anywhere hear her. So he closed his eyes and just listened to her getting ready for bed. Eventually she sat on the edge, and nudged him to move over and make space for her. Grumbling a little — he'd been half asleep — he scooted to the other side of the bed so she could lie down. She found his hand and laced their fingers together, which was the last thing he remembered before drifting off.
When he woke up again it was very bright in the room, indicating it was at least mid-morning. Katy was curled up on her side facing away from him, clearly awake a reading a book.
He sat up, pleased to discover his back and shoulders felt much better. Not completely well, but not like he'd had a a fight with several guys and a horse the day before. Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. "Morning."
“Good morning,” she replied, looking up at him. “I wanted to let you sleep. How are you feeling?”
"Much better. Auntie's tea and liniment are the real thing.”
That made her smile. “Good.” She looked back at her book, then said, “We have nothing much to do until this evening, it’s not exactly a tourist town. I don’t know how much you want to wander and make inquiries of random people, or just…rest a bit.”
He tried not to grin too widely at that. "Resting sounds fun.”
“You don’t look particularly restful right now,” she told him.
"Well, I just woke up. We'd have to find a way to tire me out again."
She nestled back against him. “Mmm, I could read you some of this boring book. That would knock you right out.”
He leaned his head down to kiss her, stroking a hand down her arm. "I suppose that's an option.”
“We could play cards,” she mumbled against his mouth.
"You cheat at cards," he pointed out, tucking an arm around her to haul her closer.
“I would think that would be tiring,” she replied. He tugged her chemise up so he could touch her skin. The book tumbled from her hand and hit the floor.
If he was honest, he'd kind of expected her to make the teasing last longer. But he'd clearly created a monster by bedding her the other day. He kissed her mouth, hot and urgent, before tipping her back and taking a nipple in his mouth.
She plunged her fingers into his hair. “Mmmm, I ached falling asleep last night.”
He hummed an apology against her skin, promising himself he'd make up for it tonight. One hand held her in an arch, but he let the other cup and shape the breast he hadn't given attention to yet.
“I wanted to ride you,” she told him.
He groaned, giving her breast a squeeze. "Yes, ma’am."
Her hands moved down his back, and she scraped her nails gently. “You can rest and I can do all the work.”
"Part of me is not resting," he murmured against her skin, kissing across her chest to suckle her other breast.
“You were very clear that part was not sore.” Like an emphasis she managed to twist herself to reach and wrap her fingers around it. “Might be a failure on my part.”
He let her feel his teeth against her breast, grinning at the way she jumped. His hand drifted down, into the split of her drawers, and found her wet. He stroked her in time with the hand on his erection. She sucked in a breath, and then she pushed on his shoulder to get him to lay back.
With one last kiss to her breast he let her roll him to his back, taking her with him to sprawl across his chest. She straightened up, straddling him, and wrestled her chemise off over her head. It was bright daylight in there, giving him an amazing view of her. She went up on her knees, untied her drawers, and the slid off her hips. Then she reached between them to guide him inside her.
Shaun held her hips, helping her ease down at a comfortable pace. She was chewing her lip and looked deadly serious, so it was a little hard not to laugh. But the feel of her wet heat surrounding him drove any humor from his mind. She grinned and bent down to kiss him, rocking her hips a little as she did.
He cupped the side of her face with one hand, kissing her back. "That's my girl.”
She straightened up again, and began to move in earnest. He could see her losing herself in it, tipping her head back so her hair brushed his thighs. Her hand came up to clutch at her own breast, and she made small sounds of pleasure.
For a few minutes he just enjoyed watching her. Then he slipped a hand between them, pressing at her clit so she would rub against his fingers as she moved. That got him a louder cry, and she reached down to hold his hand there so he wouldn’t move it away. She tightened herself around him as she moved.
He got to watch her come in slow detail. The way her nipples tightened and her legs trembled and her body started to squeeze him.
It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He thrust up into her, close to his own release. When he felt it building he rolled them, slipping out of her to spill on her legs.
He rested his forehead on hers and they breathed together. Then she whispered, “Thank you for not dying yesterday.”
"It was my pleasure," he assured her, drawing her in for a kiss. "Plan to continue to do it for a long time.”
She laughed a little. “Good.” Tucking his arms around her, he settled her head on his chest, stroking her hair.
*
The dress Katy had brought with her had an evening bodice. It wasn’t that fancy, but it was nicer than the day jacket, showed some skin, and most importantly looked different from the same dress she’d worn every day.
Shaun’s suit had been completely ruined by the fight on the stage, and he’d gone out in search of something to wear that at least wasn’t ripped. She sort of assumed he’d buy another suit, maybe one that didn’t quite fit right. But it was a mining town, so he came back in dark denims and leather duster. She greatly approved.
For his part, her bare arms and cleavage was clearly just as distracting to him. For a moment they just stared at each other. “In retrospect,” she said finally, “I can’t believe we convinced ourselves we were just friends.”
"Denial is a hell of a thing," he agreed. He offered his arm. "To the burlesque?”
“I cannot wait,” she replied, tucking her hand in his elbow. He kissed her cheek as they headed out of the room and downstairs, out onto the streets of Deadwood.
Zuzu's place was pretty easy to find, and clearly one of the most popular spots in town at this time of night. Shaun looked vaguely uneasy about going in, but didn't hesitate to walk up to the door with her.
The decoration inside was red and very Chinese—almost exaggeratedly so. It was dim and smoky, and the sweet smell made her wonder how much was tobacco and how much was opium.
A host was seating people, a man dressed in colorful traditional clothing. When he saw them he held out his arms wide. “You’re the man from the stagecoach!”
"I am," Shaun said. "No need to make a fuss.”
“Nonsense! You’re famous. I’m going to give you the best seats.” He looked over at Katy, and she could see the question on his face.
She was tired of being asked it, so when he opened his mouth, she cut him off with, “I’m not a whore.”
The host put his hand against his chest. “Of course you’re not. You’re the driver. Chinese girl driving six horses down that narrow road into the valley? It was noticed.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, fuss away,” she said with a grin.
“Follow me,” he told them. They were shown to seats along the side, in little tucked in areas with drapes. It reminded her of and opera box. The main seating areas had chairs and plain benches, but this reminded her of the kind of carved wooden daybed she hadn’t seen since childhood in Chinatown.
It was as much lounging as siting, and getting comfortable in the bustle dress took some arranging.
“I’ll send a waiter to get your drink orders,” the host said. “Tell them Jon Jon said it was on the house. The show will start soon.”
"Thanks," Shaun said, sounding vaguely flummoxed. He watched him walk away, then looked back at her. "This is surreal.”
“Being famous?”
"Well, that. But also this." He gestured at the general decor. "It's like being back in my father's place."
She looked over at him. “Are you okay? Do we need to leave?”
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, waving a hand. "I don't think he's gonna pop out of the shadows or anything.”
“If you’re uncomfortable we don’t have to watch the whole show. But I think it might be fun.”
He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "We'll give it a try.”
She snuggled against him. “I do wonder how dangerous this secluded little box will be, after having a few drinks and watching an arousing performance.” There were several similar boxes lining the walls. All of them, she noticed, looked to have couples in them, though from the makeup of the town she assumed the rest were men and the company they’d bought.
Shaun flushed a little. "Let's try to keep it civil. I am looking for my sister. Neither of us wants her to get an eyeful of anything.”
Katy decided not to bring up the very real possibility his sister would be on stage. She was pretty sure he’d end up hiding in her skirt (and you could absolutely hide a grown man in a bustle skirt).
Maybe it was the environment, but suddenly all she could think about was him getting under her skirt for other reasons.
“Well, what doesn’t kill us will make us stronger.”
She felt more than heard him smile, then he kissed her ear. "We'll see how it goes.”
It made her shiver, and she reached and squeezed his leg. He grinned, clearly knowing exactly what he was doing. Before either of them could way anything else, the lights dimmed and the curtain went up.
He’d described burlesque as much more flamboyant and raunchy than this show was. It was elegant and graceful and surprisingly artistic. But it was no less sexy. Perhaps more so, at least to her. It was also clearly part entertainment, and part advertisement for all the girls on stage.
Shaun kept his arm around her shoulders as they watched, not touching anything interesting. But his fingers traced little circles and patters on her upper arm, ever so lightly. Once in a while he'd shift his hand to twirl a few loose hairs that had fallen out of her hair style.
It was very…distracting. “I wonder if these drapes close,” she murmured.
He pressed little kisses to her throat. "Do you like the idea of someone seeing us?”
That felt wrong, but also arousing. She could feel herself flushing. “Maybe.”
"It's okay if you do," he assured her. "I think that's a pretty normal thing.”
She chuckled. “According to a society’s rules it’s not normal for a girl like me to enjoy anything in that department.”
"Yeah, well, society is dumb. What people do in their own bedroom — or their own head — is no one else's business.”
“This is why I like you,” she said, turning to kiss him on the mouth.
He kissed her deeply, arm tightening around her shoulders. She could feel his other hand work its way under her many layers of skirt.
Someone rapped their knuckles on the side of the box, making Katy jump, and pull back. Jon Jon was standing there grinning at them. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”
"My wife was enjoying the show," Shaun said smoothly, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to be doing.
“Hey, that’s why we’re here. We want everyone to enjoy our club. Madame Zuzu wants to meet you, but I can come back later. Or…come meet her and then we can get you a private room.”
"That might be fun." He gave her leg a squeeze as he eased his hand away. "Would you like to see one of their rooms, honey?”
Katy bit her lip. “Sounds like fun.”
“I’ll have it set up,” Jon Jon said. “In the mean time, come with me.”
Shaun stood, adjusting his dusted to hide what was probably a growing bulge in his denims, and held a hand out to help her up. She squeezed his hand but didn’t touch him further so as tonot exacerbate the issue. They were led upstairs into a nicely appointed office that was far less traditional-looking than downstairs. It reminded her of someone of the nicer offices in Triskelion, or the way the Starks’ Pullman had been decorated.
So much so she was not expecting Madame Zuzu to be Chinese, but she was. And far younger and prettier than Katy had a assumed a brothel/burlesque owner would me. She had on a clearly expensive and elegant silk dress, with a bustle and train, that Katy couldn’t fathom how she kept clean in a town like Deadwood.
She glanced over at Shaun, who was looking like someone had punched him in the stomach.
“Hello, Shangqi,” Madame Zuzu said.
"Mei-mei," he said softly. "What are… you own this place?”
“Ah, I imagine you assumed I was still locked in the compound where you left me. Or perhaps married off to some associate of Dad’s he saw fit to bestow me upon.” She came around the desk, and expertly finagled her entire bustle and train off to the side so she could perch on it. It was a level of casual elegance Katy was honestly in awe of.
It took her a moment to process that this was, clearly, Shaun’s sister.
“That was actually a near thing,” Xialing was saying. “The husband.”
"I didn't … I'm sorry. There was no way for me to go back for you. I knew he'd never let me out again.”
“I didn’t need him to let me, I escaped on my own.” She looked Shaun up down. “I’d always assumed you were dead. But as soon as I heard the story about the Chinese man taking down a whole posse of robbers on his own, I knew it had to be you. And hoped you’d come here so I could kick you in the head.”
He sighed deeply. "I'll give you a free shot, if you want.”
“I can’t aim higher than your knees in this dress,” she replied.
"I could duck.”
Katy could see Xialing fighting a smile, and blurted out, “That dress is gorgeous, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Xialing replied, smiling for real. “Love the pink.”
“Thank you! I’m Katy. His fake wife.”
The other woman blinked, then slowly shifted her eyes over to her brother. “Explain.”
Shaun glanced over at Katy. "She insisted on coming with me. Calling her my wife meant people would leave her alone. Especially after the robbery." He reached over and squeezed Katy's hand, before looking back at his sister. "Dad's looking for us, mei-mei. He sent someone to Triskelion, where I live, and they tried to kidnap Katy, thinking she was you.”
“I know. A couple of men with Ten Rings tattoos—so handy of Dad to clearly label his henchmen—showed up a couple days ago.” She made a gesture to her left. “Fed them to my neighbor’s pigs.”
"Pigs," he muttered. "I should have thought of that. Any idea what he wants with us?”
“I didn’t pause to interrogate.” She finally went around to sit in the chair behind her desk, opening a drawer and digging around. “How did you know where I was?”
"The kidnapper said Dad thought I was in Deadwood panning for gold. Seemed likely he'd just gotten our locations mixed up.”
Xialing laughed. “Oh, of course he did.”
“That’s what I said,” Katy told her. “The kid in the respectable cow town must be the girl, and the boy is in the rough frontier town doing manly things like mining for gold.”
“It was probably that,” she replied. “The mine has to be registered with the territorial government.”
Shaun sighed. "You used my name?”
“I used a variant of Mom’s name as my fake dead husband, but I imagine he assumed that was you.”
“Wait,” Katy said. “You actually have a gold mine?”
“I do. This place doesn’t really turn a profit,” she said, gesturing at the room.
"Then why do you run it?" Shaun asked.
“Cover to import lots of young women. I purchase them from brothels and other operations, mostly in San Francisco, and bring them out here.”
"Let me guess. You focus on Ten Rings operations?”
“I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to. He’s got his sticky fingers in the entire sex trade. Much as it galls me to line his pockets, I don’t want to draw his attention or ire. I’m paying with shiny rocks that we dig out of the ground, anyway. I just want to help these women get out of slavery and have some kind of life. To him it looks like I’m just buying girls for a boomtown brothel that chews through them at speed.”
"Good for you, Ling Ling," he said quietly.
“I wasn’t going to end up in a brothel, or as a concubine,” she said. “My wealthy father would find me a husband. But at the end of the day, really, I’d be just the same as any of them. Sold to be raped every night by the highest bidder. So here I am, trying to help.”
"So I guess convincing you to come to Triskelion with me is pointless?"
She leaned back in her chair. “Why would I?”
"It's on on a train line," he offered. "More efficient rescues."
“More anonymity and plausibility here. And safety, access to the valley is limited.” She gave him a very level stare. “I didn’t need you to rescue me from San Francisco, and I don’t need you to rescue me now.”
Katy could see Shaun slump a bit. He'd clearly been looking forward to rescuing his baby sister. "Right. Well. We'll go, then.” Katy reached over to rub his arm.
There was a knock on the door, and when Xialing called for them to enter, it was Jon Jon. “Hey, boss, sorry to bother you, but the Marshals are downstairs. They have a warrant for your brother.”
Katy felt her stomach flip. Shaun stood up, and Xialing said, “About the stage robbery? They have got to be—I’ll come talk to them.”
Jon Jon said, “No, they’re from San Francisco.”
"Of course they are," Shaun said. He glanced over at Xialing. "We can't fight them. That's a trip to the noose."
“How about we go out the back door?” Katy asked, not bothering to keep the alarm out of her voice.
“There’s only one way out of town,” Xialing said. “You run, they’ll shoot.”
He blew out a long, slow breath. "Okay. I guess I'm going to San Francisco."
Katy stared, horrified. This was scarier than when he’d gone to fight the robbers, and he’d given her ‘if I die’ instructions. “There has to be another option.”
"There isn't," he said gently. "If I fight them, then someone else is just going to come arrest me for that. If I don't go down there soon they're going to start hassling people and the people down there will probably drag me down anyway. Going quietly is the best thing.”
There was a lump in her throat that she had to work to swallow. “What do I do?” she whispered.
He turned to her and stroked her cheeks. "Go back home," he told her softly. "You can try telling the Marshal what happened, but I doubt he can do anything."
"You can stay here," Xialing offered. "I'll take care of you.”
Katy wasn’t sure she trusted her. But she also didn’t know how she’d get home alone. Shaun was emptying his pockets and handing her money and his pocket watch. She didn’t want them. She didn’t want any of this. Blinking back tears that would not help the situation, she threw her arms around him. “I love you.”
"I love you too," he told her, kissing her gently and holding her face in his hands. "It'll be okay. He's not going to hurt me. I'll find out what he wants and get away again."
Shaun’s father could hurt him plenty without laying a finger on him. But he knew that; she sure wasn’t going to say it. “Promise?”
"Promise. You can't get rid of me that easy."
She hugged him again, pressing her nose against his neck and trying to memorize his scent. “Okay.”
“Stay up here until we’re gone,” he said, and she nodded. And then very reluctantly let him go.
He gave Jon-Jon a little nod and went out of the room. Xialing quietly stepped forward and put a hand on her arm. "Don't worry. I have a pullman. We'll see him in San Francisco.”
Katy wiped her eyes and turned, sure she wasn’t hearing correctly. “What?”
“I have a Pullman. Private rail car. Also a carriage, so we don’t have to take the stage.”
That did make sense, if she thought about it a moment. It would be hard to run a large-scale people smuggling organization without private transport to keep it inconspicuous. “You seemed pretty angry at him.”
"I am. He left me there alone. Doesn't mean I'm going to do the same thing to him." She smiled, showing teeth. "Besides, I owe my dad a hell of a lot more than a kick in the head."
Chapter 7: Little Big Man
Chapter Text
The two Marshals from San Francisco put Shaun on the back of a horse, and headed out despite it being the middle of the night. They had six other armed men with them, who he’d give even odds worked for the Ten Rings, though they weren’t Chinese. They were all armed to the teeth, actually, as if they were arresting a gang or possibly having a small military skirmish.
Shaun decided to be flattered by that.
After riding all night, and occasionally dosing in the saddle, they reached one of the stage stops in the morning where a wagon was waiting. He spent the next day and a half in the back of that wagon with his hands still bound.
He hadn’t bothered to ask them what he was charged with. It didn’t matter; he knew what this was about. They seemed to then assume he spoke no English, as they gave him all commands in terrible, mangled Chinese and otherwise didn’t speak to him—but spoke about him as if he couldn’t hear or understand.
In Cheyenne they took him to the train, and he greatly appreciated the irony of getting put in the box car for his ride to San Francisco. This car actually had cows on the other side, and stunk like hell. They shackled him to an iron loop in the floor and left him in there with a canteen of water and stale bread.
When he did get to his dad, he was going to complain about the service here.
They let him out of the boxcar in Oakland, by which point his wrists were raw from the shackles. Said shackles remained the entire ferry ride across the bay, and until they put him in a cell at some police precinct or other. A couple hours later, he could hear outraged Chinese shouting in a familiar voice, somewhere down the hall. This, apparently, was not what Dad had paid for.
"They didn't even feed me tea," he called down the hallway in Mandarin.
And then there the man was, in the flesh. He somehow looked exactly the same as when Shaun had last seen him. “I’m sorry, my son, this not what I intended.” He turned his head and barked, “Someone get him out of this cell right now!” in English.
A cop came scurrying over to do so. It was both sincere irritation on Wenwu’s part, and a deliberate reminder. He was so powerful he could order white lawmen to follow his orders, and they did.
Shaun had been sitting on the floor near the bars and now unfolded himself to stand, stepping out into the hallway when the cell door opened. He looked the cop in the eye. "By the way," he said. "I speak English, and you guys are all assholes."
The cop’s eyes widened, and Wenwu chuckled. “Come on then, let’s go home.”
He kind of wanted to argue about whether or not it was home, but this was such a good exit line, he couldn't resist. So he just glared the cop down and followed Wenwu out of the cell block.
There was a carriage outside, black and gold, with a bespoke interior in Chinese silk. All he could think was how much Katy would love it. Studying the fabric also was better than looking at his father.
“If I’d realized your sister was also in Deadwood, I’d have had them bring her, too. Now I’ll have to send someone else. Did she tell you what she was doing in Kansas?”
"She was never in Kansas," he said. "I was.”
Wenwu stared at him, and it was evident on his face then that he understood the mix up. “The operation in Deadwood is hers?”
Oh, if only Xialing could see his face. "She was always more interested in that sort of thing than I was."
“That is very interesting. Am I correct she does not have a husband? As her guardian, I’ll have rights to that goldmine.”
Shaun snorted but didn't say anything. He could deal with Xialing on his own and learn the lesson the hard way.
“It may take a bit more time then to tie up lose ends and get everything in order before we sail. Can’t be helped, gold is worth the wait.”
"How are you planning to get her out here? More cops?”
“I suppose I will have to go myself. Though perhaps a lawsuit to obtain control of the mine would do it. I assume she’ll come home if she can’t feed herself.” There was such a casual cruelty to the way he said that. On par, from Shaun’s memory, but he’d gotten so unaccustomed to it in Triskelion it was startling.
He thought about the patience with which Mr. Chen had negotiated with his teenaged daughter about how their family should take in the strange boy she’d literally found in the baggage car. Or, lately, the not-remotely-subtle but infinitely respectful way he prodded Shaun to ask for Katy’s hand.
If nothing else, his time away had taught him there were good people in the world. Good parents, who listened and got their kids opinion on things. They might not agree with it, but they let them know they were heard and that their opinion mattered. A lot of the men in town were like that. Sherif Rogers had political and law enforcement power as well as being physically imposing and he was one of the more patient men in the world. Even Stark, with an ego to rival Wenwu's stopped and listened to others' ideas.
For the first time in his life, Shaun realized how small his father really was. It was the only reason he had to puff himself up so big.
“The Marshals told me the Deadwood Sheriff said you had a wife,” Wenwu said.
"Katy," he replied. She was probably safer as his wife than anything else. "I didn't want her to see whatever you were going to do.”
He made a face. “Is she white?”
"No. She's Chinese. She just uses her Americanized name.”
“When did she immigrate?”
"I think she was born here. San Francisco, actually. If she was ever in China she came here very young.”
“Interesting.” And he did, in fact, look interested. Calculating. Then he asked, “Was she a virgin?”
"Oh my God, Dad.”
“I’m trying to determine if she’s a proper wife. There were worse ways to ask that. There are not enough women here, so men make compromises. But a marriage under an assumed name isn’t legal, so there are options. If you’ve already taken this girl’s most valuable asset, we should send for her and correct the paperwork. If you just made promises to a concubine, we can let it be and find you a genuine bride in China.”
Shaun rubbed his temples. "Yes. She was a virgin. And since when were we going to China?”
“It’s getting harder to be here. Harder to do business. We will go back and expand the business in Hong Kong, and perhaps return when the tide of opinion has shifted again.”
"Did it occur to you I wouldn't want to go to China?”
He made a dismissive noise. “You’ll come around.”
"Dad. I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. I don't remember China. I don't want to go there.”
“You’d rather stay in Kansas..doing what, exactly? Looking after cows? Growing vegetables?”
"Technically, I look after horses." Wenwu gave him a look. "I don't know, Dad. Living my own life? Making friends, starting a family? Not killing people or selling women?”
“Families have a lot of excess girls, and there are many men here without wives. I’m simply filling needs.”
"Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“I’ll give you some time to acclimate,” Wenwu told him. “And send someone to collect your wife and sister.”
Shaun stifled a sigh and decided not to say the snarky thing he really wanted to say. “Sure."
*
Xialing’s carriage was ready to go in the morning. It was lighter than the stage, with canvas and leather sides and roof, and pulled by a team of four. It also had four armed guards on horseback riding before and after, and a passel of horses to rotate out being led behind them. This way, they didn’t have to use the stage stops, and could proceed with more efficiency.
Normally they would stop at night so her driver could sleep, but Katy offered to take a turn driving so they could press on.
During their many hours in the carriage together, Katy told Xialing their story—how they met and why she called him Shaun and their years of friendship and the man in the alley. There was an entire side diversion where she explained the vigilante murder spree in Triskelion. Which Xialing considered a genuine selling point for the town.
"Deadwood has lots of murder, but nothing mysterious.”
“It’s a weird town. Maybe they’ll have figured it out, who did it, by the time we get home. If we get home.”
"I will get you home," Xialing told her. "You have my word."
Katy sighed. “I don’t…I don’t want to go without him.”
"I understand. But you might not want to go wherever he is, either.”
“I’d rather be locked in your Dad’d dungeon with him than home alone.”
Xialing looked vaguely perturbed at that. "Never met anyone I'd say that for."
“He’s the only one.” She honestly didn’t know what she’d do if he wasn’t alright when they got to San Francisco. “He’s been my best friend since I was a girl.”
"Well. At least he took care of someone." They rode in silence a moment. "Dad won't kill him.”
“You don’t have to kill someone to hurt them.” She paused, then said. “He didn’t take care of me back then. He was too much of a mess to take care of anyone.”
"I'm not surprised. Dad ignored and tried to sell me. Shangqi he tried to make into his copy.”
“I know. Though I didn’t at the time—just that something bad had happened and he was terrified of having to go back. He thought if he told me the truth I’d be horrified and, I don’t know, hand him over the Sheriff.”
"When all you have known is betrayal, it's easy to assume that's how the whole world works.”
“I don’t know if I can help him, but I need him to know I tried.” She sighed. “Thank you for taking me.”
She shrugged easily. "He's still my brother. At the end of the day, we're the only two people who really understand what we went through.”
“As soon as he mentioned you I really wanted to meet you. That is at least part of why I came on this adventure.”
"I don't think I'm what he expected.”
“No, but you’re so much cooler.”
Xialing laughed. "Am I cooler than him?”
“You have a theatre and a gold mine and your own train car and some truly fabulous dresses. And your own guards and apparently carnivorous pigs? I don’t know, but it’s all more exciting than Triskelion, that’s for sure.”
"The pigs are technically my neighbors," she offered.
“I told you my story,” Katy said, desperate to think or talk for a moment about something other than Shaun. “What’s yours? How the heck did you get a gold mine?”
She blew out a breath. "When my dad tried to sell me off to a husband, I realized it was my last chance to get out of there. I snuck away in the night, with a bunch of stolen money and jewelry, and caught a ride east. Figured anywhere I ended up was better than I was."
As they rolled over the prairie, she told the rest of the story. She hadn’t intended to go to Deadwood. She’d won the deed to the gold mine claim in a late night poker game in the Union Pacific dining car just west of Omaha. Instead of going to New York, she turned around. The gold hadn’t been much, until she found a crack in the rock face too small for a man to fit, wiggled inside, and found a vein. Two days and some dynamite later, she was rich.
The Madam of the Chinese brothel treated the women like slaves. Xialing bought her out, turned it into a show where no one was obliged to sell sex unless they wanted to, and it morphed into an operation to save other women. She occasionally took lovers, and traveled freely to buy her gowns—some of which came from Paris.
Katy would not have wanted to be rescued from that either. Xialing did concede that if she’d been one of the trapped and desperate prostitutes that had been in the brothel when she first bought it, she might have welcomed her brother coming to help her, even while wanting to kick him in the head.
“So I was never, technically, a whore, but people assume I was and I don’t mind letting them. Adds to the mystique.”
“Everyone seems to routinely assume I am,” Katy replied.
She made a face and waved a hand. "Men. They see what they want to see. Like a woman can't have any use other than her pussy.”
“That’s a word I learned in Deadwood. From a drunk guy in our hotel.”
"There are lots of words for it," she told her. "I can teach them to you.”
“Oh, and I bet you’ve heard them all. I’ve lived a sheltered life. I…you probably don’t want me to comment on the things your brother had to explain to me.”
"If it was anyone but my brother I might." She shook her head. "I guarantee I was as innocent as you when I headed east. I just learned fast. And am surprisingly good at faking it till I'm confident.
“I think I did pretty good considering it’s only been, I don’t know, a week or so.”
Xialing looked over at her startled. "Really? I'd have figured you guys had been together for ages."
“No. We were always just friends. My family—and possibly the entire town—sort of assumed we’d get married when we came of age. It was eminently logical. But he clearly doesn’t want to—my parents have been very obvious, there’s no real misinterpreting at this point. And I guess given how bad his childhood was, I can’t really blame him. I came up with the fake-marriage thing to give us cover while traveling, and then we ended up sharing a room and…” She shrugged, not wanted to get into more detail than she’d want to hear about her brother.
"Huh." Xialing seemed to think on that for a while. "He always did have too much honor for his own good.”
Katy wasn’t sure having sex with a woman you didn’t intend to marry was a sign of too much honor, but she thought honor was overrated. It had been mostly her idea, anyway. “He did promise me I wouldn’t get pregnant.”
That got a little snort. "You want me to beat him up for you a bit when we find him?”
She frowned. “Why?”
"I don't know. Sounds like you're kind of frustrated with how he's acting. Also, no one can promise a woman their sleeping with they won't get pregnant.”
“Really? He seemed pretty confident about it.” Granted, she hadn’t interrogated him. She’d just always trusted him to take care of her. It made her wonder, for the first time ever, if maybe she shouldn’t have.
If she did get pregnant, she couldn’t go home. The shame would kill her parents.
"I don't know. Maybe he believes it. But trust me, there's nothing a man can do to give you one hundred percent guarantee. I always keep some medicine, just in case. It's a lot easier to get rid of than to prevent.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” she replied, picking at her skirt. “Maybe I will let you beat him up.”
"Always happy to help.”
She stared out the window a bit. “Maybe it was foolish of me, I just…” She loved him. She had so long it was part of her. She’d just been in denial so long she’d managed to put it away. At least most of the time.
"You don't seem like a foolish person," Xialing said gently.
“No, but I do tend to think with my heart and not my head.” And he loved her back. She could feel that.
"There we are different. My heart has never given good advice.”
“I’m not sure mine does. I just keep listening to it anyway.”
"May I suggest, when we sort all this out, you lock my brother in a room and demand he give you a straight answer about his intentions towards you.”
“It’s not the worst plan,” Katy replied. Part of her didn’t want to know, specifically because there was a chance she wouldn’t like the answer, and she just wanted to live in the moment. But that was no way to go about things. She did need to know, one way or the other.
"And don't make that face," Xialing said. "You get nowhere assuming failure."
“I would guess that he wanted to protect me from your family. The more he loved me, the less he was willing to marry me. So maybe getting it all out into the light will change things.”
She gestured elegantly. "There you are. If we didn't have Dad to worry about in the back of our minds, we'd both be much… lighter.”
“I suppose we’ll see what next week brings,” Katy said.
When they reached Cheyenne, Xialing’s rail car was waiting for them. It had an entirely Chinese staff, and she spent the trip west eating dumplings in luxury. She’d have enjoyed it more if she wasn’t so worried.
When they reached Sacramento, there was a telegram waiting for them, having been sent to Deadwood and then transmitted along to them. Xialing read it, sighed, and handed it to Katy.
Dad plans to return to China STOP Sending men after you STOP Take Katy to Triskelion STOP Tell Sheriff STOP He will protect you FULL STOP
“Does he honestly think we’re going to leave him there?” was Katy’s response.
"I mean, maybe? He did leave me, he may assume I'd do the same. Most likely he just hopes we will."
Katy chuckled. “It’s like he doesn’t know me at all.”
Xialing shrugged. "I don't think he'd have told me to take you to Triskelion if he thought you'd go willingly."
“All right, that’s fair.” She watched the other woman a moment. “We’re still going, right?” They were only half a day from San Francisco at this point, but it seemed prudent to ask.
Xialing made a rude noise. "Of course."
On the ferry from Oakland to San Francisco, Katy asked, “So do we break in and try and get him, or what?”
"That's plan A. I still know a few secret routes in and out of the complex. It's just a matter of figuring out where he's keeping Shangqi."
“Got any odds on success?”
"I'm not much of an odds maker. But probably not great."
“Maybe it would be easier to present ourselves at the front door and use the secret routes to sneak all three of us out.”
She seemed to consider that. "Maybe. He might separate us. But that won't last long.”
“He will take me, at least, to your brother. Men like that are always big believers in husbandly rights.”
"Yuck, but also yes. When he does, stay put, I'll find you both.”
Chapter 8: One Foot in Hell
Chapter Text
Wenwu had two properties, a building in the heart of Chinatown next to the Chinese Consulate and a country house on the north side of the bay. Shaun and Xialing had always called it the compound. It was on a rocky slope facing the bay, made of gray stone and looking more like a military fort than a house. It was often socked in with fog, cold and damp and impossible to see even much of anything. It felt isolated in it’s own world.
They’d originally gone to the building in the city, but Wenwu quickly learned—because he knew everything that went on in Chinatown—that his son had convinced someone at the Consulate to send a telegram for him, and relocated them out of the city. Wenwu seemed to think time would wear him down. Shaun avoided him, and contemplated if he could survive an attempt to swim to Angel Island.
If he wanted to eat he was stuck with his father, and starving would not do anything good for his ability to escape.
One morning at breakfast, Wenwu said, “I’ve located your wife, and your sister.”
Years of training kept him from reacting too much. "I imagined you would eventually.”
“Well, they very helpfully came right to San Francisco themselves.”
No reaction. He was going to kill both of them. "That was a questionable decision.”
Wenwu shrugged. “Perhaps for your sister, but where else would your wife go?”
"Home to her family. Away from you.”
That got him a sharp look. “She belongs to you now, not them.”
Shaun didn't have much memory of his mother, but he was pretty sure his dad would have been sleeping on the couch a couple nights if he'd informed her she couldn't see her family anymore. "I told her if you ever came back for me to go home.”
“You could be leaving a child fatherless, you know.”
"There are plenty of people back home to help her."
“You have more faith in others than I do, boy.” Wenwu put his spoon down, and lifted his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Are you saying you don’t want her here?”
"I don't want her to get dragged to China with us.”
“Well, she’s here and I’m not sending her back to Kansas. She’s young, she’s healthy and she’s pretty, that’s entirely too valuable. If you don’t want to take her with us, once it’s clear she’s not pregnant I can sell her to a brothel.” He stood, tossing the napkin on the table, clearly done with his meal. “She’ll be here this afternoon, let me know what you decide.”
Shaun had long fantasized about stabbing his father and being free of him. But this, right here, was when he actually decided to do it.
He couldn’t do it with chopsticks, though, and Wenwu had had the good sense not to give him any weapons. The best he could do at the moment was stand up, too, and stare his father down. Right then it occurred to him he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was taller than his father. Heavier. Broader at the shoulders. Thirty years younger. Wenwu was almost certainly armed, and under the right circumstances, Shaun could overpower him and take it before the guards reached them.
Not now—not only were men standing guard outside the dining room door, but they had guns. But a time would come.
And he could see in his father’s eyes that he knew it. Though something surprised in his expression indicated that it had not, at any previous point, occurred to him that teaching a boy to kill others might some day produce a man who’d turn that skill on him.
"Make sure you call me when they get here," Shaun said deliberately. "I'd hate for you to have to welcome them alone."
Wenwu put up with a surprisingly amount of sass from his children—for a man like him—but anything that implied too much outright defiance or animosity would earn a backhand, or worse. Shaun’s tone would have gotten younger-him caned. But his father just stood there. Then he gave a single nod. “You really do love her.”
"I do," he replied.
Now Wenwu looked impressed. And, of course, he’d just made it all fit in his worldview. He didn’t think he’d done anything to earn Shaun’s ire but threaten Katy, which was an acceptable reason to get one’s temper up.
But still, he didn’t bluster. Wenwu didn’t need to understand or even see all the things Shaun was angry about to have felt the ground shift all the same. “Well, then. I’ll let you know when they arrive.”
"Thank you," he managed to say, though there wasn't a whole lot of gratitude in it.
Wenwu turned on his heel and walked out.
Shaun blew out a breath and went to wander the compound. Maybe he could make a shiv or something.
The main house was high up the slope, and the outbuildings scattered on a path winding down towards the bay. There was a small rocky beach where everything came in by boat, and you could see the dock from every part of the house. He was on one of the porches when the small boat emerged from the fog. It contained a group of men and two women dressed in Chinese clothes. He couldn’t quite see well with the fog, but he could hear Katy’s voice—talking about Vikings and smoky quartz—clear as day.
He stood and went to the edge of the porch, peering down at them. Fuck, she really had come here. He waved, trying to indicate they should go away.
No one seemed to notice him, but when the boat reached the dock he could see better. One of the men hopped onto the dock. Katy was eyeing the compound, which looked particularly imposing in the morning gloom. She hesitated getting off the boat, and the man on the dock grabbed her by the arm and drag her none-to-gently onto the dock, and then shove her in the direction of the house.
That…that was not an ill-advised rescue party. That was his father’s men bringing them in by force.
From the boat, Xialing punched the man on the dock in the knee, and he toppled into the water with a splash. She was yelling about being out of patience as a brawl broke out on the rowboat.
Cursing under his breath, Shaun vaulted over the porch rail, hitting the path and sprinting down to the water. By the time he got down there, two more of the henchmen had gone into the bay, and Xialing was on the dock. There were a good dozen guards on the beach now—the compound barracks were closer to the water than the main house. Most of them were pointing guns at one or other of the women.
"Stop," Shaun snapped, with all the authority he had. "No one touch them."
Guns lowered immediately, a fact he took note of as it might be handy later. He entertained a wild thought of ordering all the men back to the house and taking the boat and the women and trying to make it to San Francisco. But his father would just come after them again.
One was still holding Katy by the arm. Shaun glared at him and he let go. She reached up and rubbed the arm like it had hurt.
Shaun went over to her and backhanded the guy so hard he hit the water. "The next time one of you touches her," he said, addressing the rest of the group. "Will be the last time you have hands. Am I clear?"
There were a bunch of nods. Katy inhaled a breath that had a hitch to it, and then crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He caught her, pressing his face into her hair to kiss her head. "What are you doing here?”
Her arms tightened. “You’re here.”
"You should have gone home," he told her, even as he pulled her closer. "But I'm glad to see you.”
“Wherever you are is home, is what I am trying to tell you.” Her words were muffled by his shirt she had her face pressed into, but he understood her. “You’re mine. I meant that, didn’t you?”
"Of course I meant that. Why do you think I don't want you around my megalomaniacal crime boss father?”
She lifted her head. “Well, I didn’t mean it for only good situations.”
Somewhere behind them, Xialing called, “Katy, I didn’t mean have the conversation on the damn dock.”
He glanced over at her. "Didn't expect to see you here."
“I’m not a hypocrite,” she replied. “I can’t kick you in the head for not doing something I wouldn’t do. And I really want to kick you in the head. So…” She shrugged, and came off the dock. “Can we go inside? I forgot how cold it is here in the summer.”
"Yeah." He he kissed Katy's head again, then took her hand to lead her up to the house.
*
Katy was exhausted. They’d gotten a hotel in Chinatown, and Xialing quickly realized Ten Rings people were following them. She told her guards not to interfere if they were grabbed. Katy just hadn’t thought they’d be so rough about it. Or that they’d hold them in some weird back alley rooms for a day and then insist they change into Chinese clothing—which Katy had never worn before. It felt genuinely weird and mildly indecent to be wandering around outside without a corset, and the trip across the bay had been damp and chilly.
Shaun’s father had greeted them in the front hall, looking for all the world like a charming host. He’d insisted Katy be shown to Shaun’s room while they talked. Shaun had refused, saying he wasn’t letting her out of his sight, and Wenwu acquiesced—something that caused Xialing to raise both eyebrows.
Shaun himself was…different. In a way Katy couldn’t quite put her finger on. Maybe she’d contemplate it after she’d had some rest and some food. Right now she really just wanted to go up to her/their room and take off this shirt thing they’d put her in, which was loose and shapeless everywhere except how it was so tight around her neck it felt like a noose.
To her relief, Shaun led her upstairs, just the two of them, and into a gorgeous, yet very impersonal bedroom on the second floor. He closed and locked the door behind them before turning to her. "Are you all right?"
She undid the buttons on her neck. “I am. Are you?”
"He didn't hurt me. I'm not having the best of times." He reached over and stroked her hair. "These clothes suck, I know."
“They took my favorite dress,” she told him, finishing the buttons and wrestling the stupid thing over her head.
"I will buy you more dresses," he promised. "Or figure out where they put that one."
“The women who dressed me seemed to think because of my accent I didn’t speak any Chinese.” Her voice was muffled from inside the fabric. She tossed it on the bed, shivering a little as the cool air hit her skin. “Things were said. They may have burned it.” Instead of a corset, they’d wrapped her breasts in some fabric, and then tied another piece of fabric over that. It wasn’t decent to go out in, but he’d seen her naked. He could see her bare arms and back.
He’d gone still, and she realized he was looking at the bruises on her upper arms. “They were pretty pissed off, Xialing kicked two of them in the balls.”
"I admit that hanging around my dad is making me exceptionally volatile," he said. "But if you want me to have them punished, I can.”
“I feel guilty about finding the barking of orders and punching the jerk into the bay attractive…but I do. In just the basest possible way. It must be something wired from the ancient uncivilized days."
He smiled a little and drew her in to hold her. "I'm okay with you finding me protecting you sexy.”
She sighed, and leaned into him. “I really missed you.”
"I missed you, too," he told her. "I wish you'd gone somewhere safe. But I am really glad to see you."
Katy put one of her hands over his heart. “You ever think maybe there’s a part of you that I protect.”
He sighed and rested his head on hers. "I'm starting to figure that out."
“That’s why I’m here,” she whispered. “I think you need me. Even if you don’t want to.”
"It's not that I don't want to need you. I want to protect you from this… mess.”
“It’s part of you. Just as much as anything else. And I think if a person’s going to love somebody, they should love all of them. See all of them. God knows you’re the only person who really sees me.”
He smiled a little and tipped her face up to kiss her. "I like all the parts of you.”
“And you don’t want to need me because you want to handle all this family nonsense alone, and you just don’t have to.”
Another sigh, this one of concession. "All right, all right. Hell, maybe you'll figure out how to charm my dad out of being an asshole."
“I don’t think I’m that charming.”
"I find you so," he said with a smile.
She smiled, and it felt genuine, causing her to lean up and kiss him. He wrapped her in his arms, deepening the kiss for a moment. "Was my sister nice to you?" he asked.
“Took me all the way to San Francisco in her Pullman.”
"Is it nicer than Mr. Starks?”
“Kinda, yeah.” She kissed him again, because she’d missed him. They’d been apart longer than their physical relationship had existed, but it didn’t matter. He bent a little and lifted her, carrying her over to the bed and sitting with her in his lap.
"If we're very lucky, maybe she'll let us ride if home.”
“I hope so,” she replied, reaching up to undo the buttons on his shirt.
He hesitated, and she sort of expected him to protest. Instead he let her go long enough to shrug the shirt off. Then he start peeling the fabric off her breasts. She sighed in relief, lifting her arms so he could unwrap her. They’d wound it so tight that when it released it felt like the first deep breath she’d taken all day.
Dipping his head, he kissed the tip of her breast. "Okay?"
She stroked his hair. “I need you.”
He moved to kiss the other breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth. "I need you, too," he mumbled. She gasped, and reached blindly between them to fumble for the buttons on his pants.
He lifted her a little so she could reach better. She got them undone, freeing his erection from its confines. She shoved the skirts she was wearing up, out of the way. They’d let her keep her drawers, at least, and it made it easy to move enough fabric to take him inside her. It had been a week and she didn’t have any patience. Shaun groaned against her skin, fingers tightening at her waist as he helped her move on him.
She cupped his jaw and turned his face up so she could kiss him, sinking her hand into his hair to hold him there. He began to tug on her more insistently, and then leaned back to roll them over and slide in deeper. She whimpered a little, clutching at his shoulders, and then he pinned her hands up over her head.
He kissed her jaw, her throat, driving into her hard and fast, on the razor's edge of too rough. There was something dark and intense in him now. She’d seen shades of it in Xialing’s club, asking her about people watching them. She’d seen it for a moment the night after the stagecoach, before exhaustion took over. It came from the same side of him that calmly threatened his father’s guards. A part of him he didn’t want her to see.
But she really did love all of him, and she wanted him to let go. While passing time on the train ride, she’d inquired and learned an entire brothel’s worth of dirty language. So she whispered to him, “Fuck me harder.”
His breath came out in a rush and she felt the edge of his teeth on her skin. He made a sound like a growl, and slid a hand under her, lifting her hips so he could thrust deeper. Then his hand moved around to rub her clit, flicking in time with his thrusts.
"Come for me, honey," he murmured. "I want to feel you."
Her head fell back and she arched under him, letting herself just feel. Pleasure twisted inside her and let go, and she held on for dear life. He growled again, clearly feeling it and thrust a few more times before pulling out.
She felt his weight settle on her and sighed, stroking his back as they caught their breath. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered.
"I'm not sure about that," he replied. "But I feel a lot better about it than I did an hour ago.”
That made her happy, and settle some of her nagging fear. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. Just like all the other nonsense we’ve been through lately.”
"All right. But I can't promise we won't end up in China at some point."
“It’ll be an adventure.”
"That's a word for it.”
She laughed a little, and hugged him. Eventually he shifted his weight off of her, and she sat up enough to take off her skirt. She used a corner of the sheets to wipe her thighs off, and then pulled the blanket up around herself before settling back down again. “It would be less messy if you stayed in me at the end.”
“That’s so you don't get pregnant.”
“According to your sister, nothing is truly reliable.”
"Yeah, but I feel like this gives us a better chance than just staying inside.”
“No, I know.” She turned her head to kiss his chest. “And I’ve learned there are other methods. She also has a tea she makes to deal with it if it does happen.”
"Makes sense," he said gruffly. "Given her profession.”
“More specifically she gave me some. For if I get in trouble.”
He was quiet a moment and she could feel uncertainty in the lines of his body. “Oh."
The response confused her. She sensed she’d upset him, but didn’t know why. “What?”
"I don't know. I just thought. If something happened we'd… keep it."
Katy lifted her head to look at him. “If we kept it, you’d have to marry me. Or my father would die trying to kill you—as it’s pretty obvious he couldn’t actually succeed—and then Waipo will poison your food. Or they’ll close the restaurant and the Sheriff might straight up shoot you.”
He was staring at her, surprise on his face. "Of course I'd marry you." He sounded offended, the idiot. "I'd love to marry you.”
She actually sat up, and turned to look at him so she could stare back. “Well, you were welcome to ask at pretty much any point. I think my family has been embarrassingly obvious about that.”
"I know, I know." He sighed and pushed himself to sit up. "I"m sorry, I just… a lot of it was not wanting to tie you to me without you knowing about my past.” He paused. "And your family kind of scare me a little bit."
“My family is perfectly nice and they adore you.”
"You just threatened me with poison."
“The poison happens when you turn from the nice boy next door into the man who got their little girl in trouble. Which, by the way, I was concerned about and you promised wouldn’t happen which I now know is something you can’t promise.”
"In my defense, I haven't been with a lot of women who didn't have it covered on their own. I was told that pulling out was your best bet at avoiding it.”
“And if it didn’t work then we were just going to…go get married?”
"I mean, I'd prefer getting married before the pregnancy.”
If she thought about it, what he had actually promised was that he wouldn’t let getting pregnant ruin her life. Which could be interpreted not as promising she wouldn’t get pregnant, but promising he’d make an honest woman of her if it happened. She supposed she’d always known that in her gut.
It still would have been better for him to just say that. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Apparently not enough to propose before having the wedding night.”
He looked down at the blanket. "I love you," he said quietly. "It never felt right to drag you into my mess. And I never knew how to bring up said mess. Your family was so nice and normal. And mine is so very not.”
She reached out to take one of his hands. “If my family were normal, my father would have said yes to one of the many other Chinese men in town who have asked for me over the last few years.”
"Really? Would you be able to supply a list of names…?”
“Shaun,” she said sternly, shaking her head. Then she sighed. “On account of the immigration rules, no one can go back to China and get a bride, or import one, so girls like me are very rare and desirable. Bribery was even attempted a few times. But Dad always said no, because he knew I loved you. But lately even he’s started talking about clearly you just don’t want to get married and maybe I should pick someone else. I am very happy that’s not true, but you do not get to give me an offended ‘of course’.”
He was quiet a moment. "Can I give you a proper proposal, then?”
Katy straightened her shoulders, and fought a smile. “I will accept that.”
"Katy," he said softly. "You are the best thing in my life. The first thing that was ever mine. You make me happy every time I talk to you. I love every part of you, even the things you think no one loves. Would you please marry me?”
For some reason he was blurry, until she blinked the tears away. “I would absolutely love to.” She cupped his face in his hands and kissed him. “We’ll make our own family.”
"We will," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "A bit more like yours than mine, please.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “They’ll be half your blood, can’t be helped. But we’ll try.”
"A lot of it is in the raising."
“Back home, if we can get there.”
"Yes. That is still the goal.”
“Okay, then,” she said, taking a deep breath. “What do we do?”
"First we gotta figure out where he put Xialing. Then we decide if we sneak out or, I don't know, kill him."
“She told me to stay put and she’d find us. Apparently there are tunnels and secret passages and such.” They were naked, so she felt compelled to add, “Hopefully she’ll knock.”
He glanced down and chuckled a little. "I'll put pants on.”
Chapter 9: Riders of Destiny
Chapter Text
Katy was out cold by the time there was a knock on Shaun’s bedroom door. He got up and put a shirt on, too, before opening it and finding his sister on the other side. He lifted a finger to his mouth to tell her to stay quiet, and waved her into the attached sitting room. If they keep their voices down, they wouldn’t wake Katy.
“Glad somebody can sleep soundly in this mausoleum,” was what Xialing said as she sat.
"She's had a long day," he said. "And no memories here.”
“On the way down from Deadwood she took shifts driving my carriage so we wouldn’t have to stop overnight. Then slept 12 hours straight on the train.”
He smiled fondly. "That sounds like her.”
Xialing sighed. “I don’t know how you do that.”
"Do what?"
“Love someone.”
He laughed a little. "She was very insistent.”
She smiled, and then pinned him with a much sharper look. “Since we’re talking about her, do you require an education about the fate of unwed mothers? I can’t tell if you’re being stubborn or just stupid about that. I don’t want to need to beat you up after we escape.”
"We had a miscommunication," he said with as much dignity as he could muster. "But it's sorted now.”
“That sounds like ‘stupid’,” she replied, and it was clearly the answer she wanted. “Dad was downstairs talking about throwing you a wedding. Something about your marriage not being legal. I refrained from commenting.”
Shaun resisted snorting. That would, he suppose, solve some problems. "He was excited I'd married a good Chinese girl."
“He told me about that, too. Seemed to want praise for being concerned you might have married girl of poor virtue that he would—tragically, martyr-like—have to sell to a brothel for your own good.” She rolled her eyes. Shaun was halfway through regretting not trying to stab the man with the chopsticks that morning, when Xialing added, “And I thought, go ahead, Dad, give it a try. Let’s all find out together if he’s got it in him to kill you.”
"I was close," he said. "When he suggested it to me." He sighed and tipped his head back, looking at the ceiling. "We're going to have to, aren't we?"
She leaned forward and rested her arms on her knees. “We could escape. I know how to get out. Trail up the rock face and then there’s a road. Or steal a boat. But you would have to live the rest of your life like I live mine. Have armed guards and sleep with a knife under your pillow. Never let your children out of your sight for a minute, lest he get the idea try starting over with a new generation.”
He couldn't begin to express how unpleasant that sounded. "I suppose it was always going to come to this. He was never going to just let us go."
“When I was young, I used to imagine that one day when you were old enough, his hand would fly and you’d catch it. Break his wrist. And then he’d back off. But that would have taken humility and self awareness I’m not sure he has. And anyway, you left.”
"If I hadn't left, I never would have been a person who could have fought him. I'd have just stayed in line forever.”
“Kansas installed a backbone?”
“Seeing there was another way to live did."
“Katy thinks you’d have turned into him. Or ended up a shell of a person. She spent half the trip trying to convince me not to be angry at you.”
"She knows me pretty well," he said, inclining his head. "And has a good relationship with her brother, so probably wants us to have one, too.”
“I haven’t figured out if I forgive you for leaving. But I’m glad you’re not dead. Might be nice to have a brother again.”
He smiled. "I'd really like to have a sister again.”
Xialing nodded. “I think you should do the wedding. He’ll need paperwork, and I want to figure out where he keeps our birth certificates so we don’t get accidentally deported one day.”
"Jesus. Yeah, those would be good to have. And it would stall any travel plans.”
“And then afterwards, we’ll deal with him.”
"Yes." Which meant kill him. Shaun has always sort of known that's where his life was headed. He'd just pictured it more as part of a fight and not in a cold blooded plot with his sister.
She was watching him. “One step at a time, though. Start with the wedding.”
"Right. I won't hate that part.”
After Xialing left, he decided to nap with Katy a bit. When he got back in the bed, she woke up and snuggled against him, asking what he and Xialing had been talking about. He decided not to bring up the whole patricide topic, instead explaining about Wenwu wanting to have a wedding. He was very grateful she’d forced them to actually discuss this issue earlier, or it would have been a much more awkward conversation.
“This is not how I wanted to do this,” he said, because that was very true. “I wanted to go home and have a real wedding with your family. God knows how we explain all this to them.” Katy was now making the strangest face, so he asked, “What?”
“I, um…” She cleared her throat. “I have a little bit of a confession to make.”
"What?" he asked warily.
“Well, I…I kinda took the money set aside for my wedding to buy our train tickets and implied to my parents that we were eloping.” She said that all in a rush.
He stared at her a moment. His mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh because she looked really serious. But he could't fight the grin that fought its way out. "You… implied?”
“I was afraid they’d send the Sheriff after us.”
Now he was laughing. "How does one imply—?”
“I said we had sorted some things out about our relationship, and that we taking a spontaneous trip instead of having the wedding the money was intended for, since we’d no longer need it when we got back.”
He shook his head and cupped her face to kiss her. "And you were right.”
“I realized after you left that night that I really did love you. I think I figured it would come to a head one way or the other. Either we’d figure out what we were to each other, or I’d come home alone.”
"Okay," he said, shaking his head. "So they won't be shocked and dismayed we come back married?”
“They might be dismayed. Pissed, even. But they won’t be surprised.”
"I guess that's best case scenario."
She chuckled and settled back down, resting her head on his chest and tucking it under her chin. “So we’ll let your father throw us a wedding, and then we’ll sneak out.”
"Yes. Xialing wants to get into his safe, get our birth certificates. At this point, they're worth more than gold.”
“I can appreciate that. My parents have ours in a safe deposit box at the bank.”
"It will give him a lot less power over us." If he were alive. Which he likely won't be.
She hummed in agreement, and he could feel her relaxing, and drifting back to sleep. One of her arms was draped across him on top of the blankets, and on it he could see yellow fading bruises on her forearm from the fight back home, and the fresh ones from today that nearly had a visible hand shape. All of them he could thank his father for.
He thought about their conversation about the Triskelion Vigilante, and hoped she could forgive him for what he was going to need to do to keep her safe.
*
Apparently the only food being served in the house was down in the dining room, with Shaun’s father sitting at the head of the table. So Katy put her Chinese clothing back on and sat through a meal, and a lecture about how racist Americans were—as if this was news to her—and a treatise on the importance of names and tradition, including a diversion about despite it’s popularity, he really hated foot binding. Mostly she attempted to hold his attention because she could make conversation with a brick wall, and it gave his children some peace.
Wenwu did insist on calling her Ruiwen, and she thought Shaun was going to take a swing at him when he demanded to see her shoes to make sure her feet were normal.
The food was delicious, though, and so she tried to steer the conversation in that that direction, under the pretense of wanting to know recipes to take home for her family’s restaurant. Which was not a lie.
“Perhaps we could send for them,” Wenwu said. “Your family, so they can attend the wedding.”
Katy looked at Shaun in a panic, not sure what to say to that.
"They were there for the first one," Shaun lied easily. "And it would take several days to get them here. I'm sure they'll forgive us for going on without them.”
“It would be hard to leave the restaurant,” Katy added. “They’d have to close it for a week or more.”
"Ah. Running a business. It can add complications. Well, in that case, I'll see to moving the plans along as quickly as possible.”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
Under the table, Shaun gave her hand a squeeze.
"Will we be going into the city, baba?" Xialing asked. "I wanted to pick up some herbs for tea.”
“We’ll have the ceremony there, and take the boat over the night before. We can go earlier if you’d like to do some shopping. The men will take you.” It was said genially, but Katy could tell it was a warning—don’t think of running.
"That would be nice. I ran out of supplies during the trip. And there are things here you can't get in the east." Her tone was polite and conciliatory and absolutely nothing like the Xialing Katy had come to know. Clearly she had perfected her dutiful daughter act.
“San Francisco is a much nicer city to be in,” he replied. “I’m glad you’ve come home.”
She smiled then and Katy had to repress a shiver. The smile was entirely sincere and warm in every regard. Except that it didn't reach her eyes at all. "Me too, baba.”
They spent another two days rattling around the creepy, fog-bound house. Wenwu brought Shaun down to his library, which turned out to be where the birth certificates were stored. He came back up to their room angry because he’d already seen paperwork his father was working on to claim Xialing’s gold mine, as well as steamer tickets to China for next month.
Finally everyone was loaded into boats and rowed across the bay to San Francisco, where the sun was at least out. They were staying on the top floor of the Ten Rings building in Chinatown, and Wenwu was adamant she and Shaun sleep in separate rooms. Xialing offered to share, and look after her, which was the only way the conflict didn’t escalate. Shaun really didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
Katy was handed over to the same harridans who’d lectured her and stolen her dress last week, to fit her for her wedding outfit, and informing them she did, in fact, speak Chinese did not stop their commentary.
“They couldn’t decide if I was too fat or too skinny,” she told Xialing when she came back from her shopping. Which Katy was not allowed to join, even though she really wanted to. “They just knew they wanted to criticize something.”
"Do you want me to kill them?" Xialing asked, unpacking her purchases and lining them up on the little vanity they had. Katy couldn't tell if she was joking or not.
“People that unhappy deserve to be cursed with continued existence.” She peered at the vanity. “What did you get?”
She lifted a shoulder. "Things for tea," she replied. "Dad likes noxious, bitter teas people claim are healthy. I was going to make him something.”
Katy couldn’t fathom why she’d do anything for him. “Can’t his minions make him tea?”
"I'm sure they can and do. But them being nice to him doesn't get me extra privileges, or put him in a good enough mood to ignore Shangqi's dirty looks, does it?”
“I admit to being surprised how much of that is tolerated. He doesn’t strike me as a man who would.”
"It's transactional. It always is. As far as he knows we're going along with what he wants with little fussing. That allows a certain amount of leeway for insubordination. For Shangqi at least. He wants him to have a bit of a spine. Not enough to take him down. But enough to prove he's a man.”
Katy thought about Shaun calmly loading the revolver while being shot at, and telling them to stay away from the window. Or threatening to take off people’s hands for touching her. Or casually stealing almost ten dollars off a bunch of random pedestrians in Cheyenne. “If your father is reading restraint as weakness he is gravely underestimating his son.”
Xialing laughed. "Welcome to life in this house. The old man sees what he wishes, not what's in front of him. I'm not a dutiful daughter eager to make tea, either.”
“If it were me I’d put castor oil in it.”
She smiled a little, one that did reach her eyes. "You'll fit in here just fine, Katy.”
“I sure hope so, it’s about to get real permanent.”
"Is it Ruiwen on your birth certificate or Katherine?”
Katy heaved out a sigh. “Did he put Ruiwen on the marriage license?”
"Of course he did.”
Maybe she’d just explain that to Shaun later.
The wedding was the next day. It was odd to go through the rituals with a bunch of strangers. It felt uncomfortable and performative. Perhaps it was a good thing that it wasn’t, technically, legal.
Part of the procession was outside in the street and there was an enormous crowd. Wenwu was a very prominent man, so it made sense, but it only made her feel more like a prop in a show. She was in a sedan chair with a draped red veil, so didn’t see much, but they seemed to loop the street before ending up back at the consulate next door.
She was conveyed inside, into a ballroom or banquet hall of some sort. She didn’t entirely care. Shaun was waiting for her, and she immediately felt better. He was dressed in an elaborate red outfit that was easily as ridiculous as hers.
“You owe me,” she told him as he reached for her hand. “So much.”
"I know, I know," he assured her, weaving their fingers together. "I'm gonna buy you the prettiest dresses.”
“I want one with a train,” she replied, even though she had absolutely nowhere to ever wear a dress like that.
"The longest one I can buy.”
The Chinese Consul performed the ceremony, both the Chinese part and a round of western vows required by the state of California. Apparently she was agreeing to obey him. He smirked at her like it amused him greatly. “You’re lucky I love you,” she murmured as he leaned down to kiss her.
"When we do it for real we can switch it to me obeying you," he whispered, giving her a very public-appropriate kiss that promised more later.
After the ceremony, the procession started up again, taking them together in the crowd loop back over to Wenwu’s building. It ended in a bedroom she hadn’t seen before that contained an elaborately carved and enclosed Wedding Bed, which she’d heard about but never actually seen.
Servants brought food, Wenwu fussed, and then they were left in there alone and the heavy doors closed. Apparently they were not invited to their own wedding banquet, and instead left to formally consummate a marriage that wasn’t legal, and Wenwu knew damn well didn’t need consummating anyway.
“This has been the strangest day of my life,” she commented, still staring at the door. Shaun was busy taking one of the food trays into the cave-like bed, which was the only place to sit in the room.
"It only ranks in the top five for me," he admitted. "I am so sorry about all this.”
“It would rank higher if you’d had an old lady you’ve never met dress you and try to convince you to perfume your nether regions. She took off the top half of her outfit because she was hot. The battle she’d decided to fight that morning was about wearing a corset. She’d convinced the old lady that he’d want to see it. And he did look appreciative as she climbed onto the bed in just it and the skirt. “And I did volunteer for this whole adventure.”
"I feel like there was no way you could have anticipated this particular outcome.”
She stuffed a dumpling in her mouth and chewed a moment. “Says you to the person who implied we were eloping her in her goodbye note.”
"That's a good point." He shrugged out of his jacket and sat across from her. "Maybe this is really all your fault.”
Katy laughed and shook her head. Then she said, “There’s nobody I’d rather spend the strangest day of my life with.”
"I hope to spend all the rest of my strange days with you," he told her sincerely.
She leaned back to look at the bed. “You know, this things reminds me of the thing we were sitting in at Xialing’s club.”
He glanced up at the curtains. "I'm guessing that was intentional.”
“I’m just saying. It has potential.”
"You want to consummate our fake marriage?" he asked with a grin.
She grinned back. “I mean…what the hell else are we going to do in here?”
"I'm happy to keep complaining about my dad, but sex is probably more fun.”
“Could not agree more,” she said, leaning over the tray to kiss him.
*
It was dim inside the draped bed, so the dawn didn’t wake Shaun. He didn’t know what had, other than it made him uneasy. Katy was still sound asleep, though the room outside the curtains had plenty of sunlight.
Someone had knocked on the door last night, after a few hours, to invite them down to dinner. He wasn’t in the mood, a fact best sidestepped around by claiming Katy was too tired. Which caused the random henchman who’d come up to get them make some off color commentary that almost got him a punch in the mouth.
They had to get out of there. Wenwu was bringing out the worst in him.
Katy didn’t rouse even when he sat up, and he realized there were footsteps going back and forth in the hallway, as if people were running back and forth.
Frowning, he stood and pulled on pants and a shirt before opening the door to utter chaos. "What's happening?" he asked one of the servants running past him.
The man stopped and stared, eyes enormous. Then he called for someone else, who came over and but seemed equally speechless. A third useless mute had joined the cluster in the hallway by the time Katy came out of the bedroom in a dressing gown and asked, “What’s going on?”
Shaun turned to give her a baffled look, and when he turned back one of his father’s senior lieutenants, a man named Yao, had arrived. Yao bowed to him, and then so did the rest of the servants. “Your father has joined the ancestors.”
He sucked in a breath and stared at him and moment. “How?"
“He seems to have passed peacefully in his sleep, just as we all hope to do.” He gestured for Shaun and Katy to follow him, down to the end of the hall where his father’s bedroom was.
And there the old bastard was, still and gray and probably cold if he went far enough into the room to touch him.
Much to Shaun’s surprise, Katy slipped around him into the room, going all the way to the bed to bow with great ceremony and make sobbing noises. It was so strange—if you knew her and their circumstances—that it genuinely distracted him from the earth-shattering thing that was happening. So he was looking right at her when she straightened and hip-checked the tea tray on the bedside table. Turning to try and catch it, instead she somehow upended the whole thing and everything fell to the floor. The porcelain teapot, cup, and saucer all shattered on the wood. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, immediately kneeling down and trying to sop up the tea with the edge of her dressing gown.
Several servants tripped over themselves to help her.
"Don't worry, Katy," Xialing said appearing at his side. "They'll clean it. A broken teapot is the least of our concerns now."
Shaun turned and stared at his sister but her face gave nothing away. "The doctor and coroner have been sent for," she said. “Perhaps the three of us should sit and discuss arrangements?”
“You ladies don’t need to trouble yourselves,” Yao was saying. “We’ll discuss everything with your brother, I’m sure you’d like to retire to your rooms.”
Xialing looked over at him, then at Shaun. It was a miracle either of them survived it. "I'll see you to the parlor before meeting with Yao," he said, in a voice he hoped brooked no argument or correction.
Yao inclined his head and stepped back. In the hall, Katy caught Shaun’s sleeve. “Can both of you come to our room? I need to change.”
"Of course." Xialing trailed after them, back to the room he shared with Katy. Once inside he closed the door firmly and looked at his sister. "What did you do?"
"I made him tea," she said blandly.
“Am I going to need to burn this dress?” Katy asked, unbuttoning her dressing gown.
"Don't lick it."
"LingLing," he said, wondering how hard he should press.
"Did you know oleander grows wild around here?" she asked and that answered that.
He rubbed a hand over his face. "You didn't have to— I could have—"
"No. You couldn't have." Her voice was surprisingly gentle. "And I'd like to keep it that way.”
Without a word, Katy stepped between them to hug Xialing. His sister flailed a moment, as if she didn't know what to do, then tucked her arms around Katy to hug her back.
"What do we do now?" he asked. "I do not want to run this empire.”
“I know,” she replied. “You want to go back to Kansas and have babies and tend your horses.” She said that entirely without the sneer she might have earlier. It was a sincere statement. And also a true one. “I want to stop the trade in women, and the protection racket, but would not at all mind taking the money from opium or shipping or whatever else he’s into. Dad wasn’t wrong about America getting more hostile to us. Chinatown might need some actual protection, from the everybody else.”
"How are we going to make that work when his lieutenants won't even speak directly to you?”
“I’m going to send for my people from Deadwood. The ones here can stay and obey, they can take some cash and go, or they can end up in the bay. Yao I may just stab to establish some dominance.”
He couldn't say he disagreed with that. "And you're sure this is the life you want to lead?”
“It’s not that different from the one I made for myself.”
He nodded. "All right. I'm not leaving without my birth certificate.”
“He brought them both here. Since we’re American citizens we’d need passports to go back to China.”
“You’re going to need to have a funeral,” Katy said. “And pretend you’re sad. So it doesn’t look fishy.”
Xialing shrugged. "It'll give me a chance to go through his records, see how much money to send with you to Kansas.”
“Can I also get some normal clothes?” Katy asked. “Those women took my favorite dress.”
"I'll try to find it," Xialing said.
"And I will buy you a new one," Shaun promised her.
“I’m going to go finish getting dressed,” Xialing said. “I have telegrams to send and tears to fake. Good luck with Yao. I’ll stab later.”
"I'll encourage him to try your tea," he told her, getting a sharp grin in response.
She let herself out, and he just stood there for a moment, letting it sink in. Behind him, Katy said, “I didn’t know. It was just a guess, based on some stuff I noticed.”
"I didn't think you two plotted. And I'm not surprised, I just… It's a lot.”
“I’ve just seen how thoroughly murders are investigated in civilized places, compared to say Deadwood, and thought dumping the tea was a good idea.” She put her hand on his arm, and then quietly said, “Come here.”
He slid an arm around her and buried his face in her hair. He didn't cry. He wasn't really mourning. But his whole world had suddenly shifted and it was hard to get his feet under him again.
She held him for a while, and then pulled him back to the bed, maneuvering him to sit. When she sat beside him leaned towards her mostly on instinct and touched his forehead to hers. “You know I love you,” she told him.
"I love you, too." He chuckled a little. "I'm a very rich man now, you know.”
“So you’re saying we won’t have to con anyone or pick pockets to afford train tickets home?”
"I can still pick pockets if you want me to.”
“You wanna lay down for a few minutes before you have to go deal with everything?”
"I would like to lie down and not deal with everything. Is that an option?”
She brushed his hair off his forehead. “I will protect you for as long as I’m able.”
"Thank you," he murmured, tugging her to lay next to him. He took deep breath of her scent, burying his face in her hair.
He closed his eyes and just rested for a bit. Eventually someone knocked on the door, and Katy got up to talk to whomever. It sounded like Yao, and though Shaun didn’t hear what he said, Katy did not bother to keep her voice down as she scolded him in Chinese about worrying about paperwork at a time like this. Then she very politely asked for breakfast and tea.
“The morning meal is served in the dining room,” Yao replied, sounding remarkably haughty for a man whose boss was dead. “Mr. Xu will need to speak with the staff himself if he wants to change that.” Because of course, the women were to be seen and not heard.
He was halfway sitting up to confirm they could move the breakfast location, when Katy asked, in the same society-lady tone she’d used at the Cheyenne hotel desk, “Mr. Yao, do you speak English?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he said cautiously.
“Good. I prefer it. We are in America, Mr. Yao, and here running a house is women’s work. At the moment I am the mistress of this house. We will take our breakfast up here and no one is to disturb my husband further this morning. I’m confident anyone who has a problem with that knows the location of both the front and rear doors of this building.”
Shaun finished sitting up, just to see the old man's reaction. Yao met his gaze over Katy's shoulder and he had to struggle not to grin. "You heard her," he said, in English. "I expect you to treat her with the same respect you would give me. And that goes for my sister as well. I'm not my father.”
Yao bowed to both of them, and then backed out the door. Katy called, “That food better not be cold!” after him.
"Yep," Shaun said. "Definitely going to vow to obey you.”
She laughed, then said, “Hey, if you were serious about being rich—and I think you were—I assume we’re not going to live over the restaurant and instead have a house that I will in fact run.”
"We will," he agreed. "Maybe a whole ranch. With horses.”
“I admit, that does kinda sound like fun.”
Chapter 10: Haunted Gold
Chapter Text
If Katy’s father-in-law had actually died in his sleep, or been done in by his shady dealings, they could have just taken what money they could find and gone home. But given that Xialing had killed him, going through the proper mourning was the best way not to look suspicious.
The best thing Katy could do, she decided, was to lean into both of her roles: the expected one as oldest son’s wife, and the one she’d had the entire time she’d know Shaun as the person who did the talking. She told all the minions that Shaun was beside himself with grief and was to be left alone, because she wasn’t sure how well he could fake the performative grief that was expected. At the very least, it was time for him to collect himself before doing so.
Xialing seemed to have prepared herself for the ordeal, and give her usual occupation had a flair for the theatrical. With some truly magnificent bullshitting and a few fake tears, she convinced Yao and the henchmen that it would be disrespectful to the family for dens of iniquity to operate during this time. And the employees needed to be able to properly mourn their benefactor. By that evening, every brothel in Chinatown was temporarily closed.
As per tradition, someone had to look after the body during preparations, and Xialing volunteered to manage that, mostly by making the henchmen do it. Though sometimes she went in there herself, Katy assumed to stab him with voodoo pins or curse at him in a different language. The rest of the time she was in Wenwu’s office trying to make sense of the finances of his operation. Shaun came down the back stairs in the afternoon to join her in that endeavor.
Katy handled scheduling and logistics and making small talk with the unending stream of people coming to pay their respects.
Just after midday, Shaun found her in the parlor she'd taken over. "Want to see something insane?" he asked her.
“Always.” She hopped up. “Though I’ve had 36 people so far tell me how great your father was, so the crazy bar is pretty high.”
He reached out to take her hand. "This'll beat it," he promised. He led her down the back steps, to his dad's study. One of the book cases was pulled out from the wall and he took her behind it to show her a hidden door. "It gets better," he said. "Watch your step."
Through the door was a narrow, steep set of stairs he had to help her down. At the bottom was a heavy, reinforced door that he hauled open. On the other side of that was a vault. Full knee height with gold. Xialing was standing in the middle with her hands on her hips. "I don't even know how to estimate how much this is.”
Katy just stared for a moment. “I…” She put her hands on her hips, then dropped them again. “No, I got nothing.”
"He has a horde," Shaun said. "Like a dragon. Just when I think we've hit the bottom of the well of weird.”
Kat leaned down to touch it. “Some of these are just nuggets.” She picked one up.
"Bastard was trying to get control of my mine when this was down here." Xialing sucked her teeth and glanced upwards. "I should kill him again.”
“Greed is a bottomless affliction,” Katy said. “Maybe we should just fling handfuls into the street during the funeral procession.”
"We can't," Shaun and his sister said in unison.
"I mean, I wasn't seriously suggesting—"
"I know," Shaun said. "But we really can't do anything with it. At least not all at once. We'll crash the gold prices. All this gold suddenly in the market? It'd be chaos."
Xialing nodded. "You can probably take a decent amount. Get yourself set up in Kansas. But I'll have to ration it out slowly.”
Katy looked from one to the other. “We’re just going to take, what, a couple buckets of gold on a train across the country?"
"More or less," Xialing confirmed. "You'll have to take the Pullman. And some guards."
Shaun shook his head, looking around. "Stark is gonna piss himself.”
Katy reached out and took his hand. “I want my own carriage.”
"Anything you want," he told her sincerely.
“You’re also going to have to face the interminable week-long funeral eventually. I can only put everyone off for so long.”
"I know, I know." He glanced at his sister. "You okay with Katy helping you with the rest of the organizing?"
"She will probably be more helpful than you."
“Rude."
“If we were back home the weather would force a shorter wake,” Katy said. “It’s certainly not 68 degrees in Kansas right now. This is coldest August I’ve ever seen.”
"Welcome to summer in San Francisco.”
“I don’t remember it being this bad when I was a kid.” She shrugged. “I’ll get a shawl when I go get my mourning wear, which I’ve been told I need.
Shaun glanced around. "I should get something, too. I don't exactly have a suit with me." He looked at his sister. "What about you?”
“I brought dresses from Deadwood,” she replied.
“We’re supposed to be the deepest mourners and swath ourselves all in black,” Katy said. “I’ve heard this seven hundred times today.”
“I brought black dresses from Deadwood.” Xialing shrugged expansively. “Just in case.”
Katy wasn’t going to comment on the implications of that, but she did say, “Oh, please can I borrow something so I stop having to discuss it with everyone? I know we’re not the same size but I’ll figure something out.”
"You're welcome to borrow something," she said. "But we bring a fistful of coins to a dressmaker in the city and they'll make you something in record time."
"You could order a few other things too," Shaun offered. "To take home.”
“I’m happy to shop my way through the city with your father’s gold, but if we’re trying not to look suspicious, most of that should be after the funeral. And I need something in the mean time."
"I think you're overestimating everyone's level of suspicion," he replied.
"You can spoil her later," Xialing said. "And for the rest of your life. For now, she can borrow a dress from me.”
“Thank you,” she said.
They went upstairs to Xialing’s room, where she’d unpacked her trunks from Deadwood into the wardrobe. “Feel free to look through and see if anything fits. If nothing else the skirts are adjustable, we can send someone out to buy a couple shirtwaists.”
“I could send someone out for one of those calico dresses I bought in Deadwood. I’m just tired of looking like someone who ought to be following a prairie schooner across Nebraska.” Katy pulled out on of the skirts. “You weren’t kidding about owing him more than a kick in the head, were you?”
"Who? Dad? No, I wasn't. Didn't really know how it was going to go down, but I was pretty sure he wasn't going to survive this little visit.”
“I did not expect this journey to involve a funeral. Though even if I had, I don’t own much black clothing. In fact, I own one very dark brown skirt that I wear during certain times of the month, and that’s it. I like color.”
"I can tell," Xialing said. "I really did love the pink.”
“Me too,” she said with a sigh. It had been her favorite dress. She pulled out one of the skirts, and what looked like the least restrictive bodice. Maybe she’d just lace her corset extra tight. “Can I try this?”
She waved a hand. "Anything you like.”
The skirt really needed a bustle, but it still was an improvement over what she had. Xialing helped her fasten the bodice, which did involve a little lace tightening and then produce a not-exactly-funeral-appropriate amount of décolletage. “Well…your brother will like it.”
"I don't want to think about that," she said dryly. "We can probably find a scarf or something to use as a fichu.”
“I have a shawl that may or may not have survived being kidnapped. Though, it was also pink. I can’t remember if I’ve seen it since we’ve been here.” Not that she didn’t often forget obvious things. “Maybe I should try and find those seamstress women who stole my dress. They were sort of apologetic when they brought over my bag with my dressing down and underthings.”
"Do you want me to come with? They at least, respect my authority.”
“I’ve become more comfortable with my status upgrade today. I can handle them.” She studied her own reflection a moment. Something amorphous was nagging at her, but it wasn’t more than a fleeting sense. “You ever feel like you’ve forgotten something but don’t know what?”
"No." That actually made sense. Xialing didn't seem the type to forget things. "But I understand the sentiment.”
“There’s been a lot of chaos and upheaval lately, hasn’t there? I got married. You killed your father. There’s a vault of gold in the basement. I can’t imagine how I’m going to explain all this to my parents.” She stopped short. “I was going to send them a telegram from Deadwood.”
"And you didn't?" She shook her head. "Probably should now?”
“I really should.”
“There’s a telegraph at the consulate next door.”
“Thank you,” Katy said. “I’ll go find a handkerchief for my neckline and then go do that.”
"Good luck. Try to word it so your dad doesn't show up with a shotgun.”
“I will make every attempt. Thank you for the dress.”
She went downstairs to find Shaun in hopes he had a handkerchief because he often had them stuffed in his pockets. He found it just as distracting as she’d expected. “I’m going to let you ogle a minute because you’re ‘mourning’, but then I need a handkerchief so I can go telegraph my parents we’re not dead.”
"Oh, right." He started searching his pockets. "Um, maybe my dad being dead will be a good excuse?”
“I’m debating if that will cause them to get on a train.”
"Assure them they won't make it in time for the funeral. Aha." He pulled out a nice white handkerchief and handed it over. “Good?"
She tucked it in to cover the worst of the cleavage, then leaned up to kiss him. “I love you. Wish me luck.”
"Good luck," he murmured, kissing her. "It'll be okay.”
*
Shaun didn’t know why people thought long wakes were a good idea. It had to be miserable if you loved the person who died, and it sure was interminable if you didn’t.
It took Katy five telegrams and three trips to the consulate to convince her parents they really didn’t need to come to San Francisco. Which was the right call, particularly given the time and distance involved. But part of him wished they could come. They were warm and so reliably normal, it would be a nice change of pace.
Katy herself was clearly running herself ragged, something he was grateful for and also felt bad about. She was adamant about not going shopping, but he decided to go downstairs and get a handful of gold and put it to use finding—recreating if he had to—her lost dress.
The second to last day of the wake, Xialing’s people from Deadwood arrived. She hadn’t stabbed Yao yet, but Jon Jon had no problems steamrolling his way into taking over. Once it had become clear that she was no longer going to be responsible for hosting and stage-directing the Funeral of the Year, Katy took a three hour nap, and then retreated into one of the rear parlors with an entire pot of tea and a book.
Once the rooms were crawling with men Xialing trusted with her life, and promised Shaun he could trust with Katy’s, he stopped worrying about the Ten Rings soldiers staying in line, and relaxed a bit himself, too.
“Hello, husband,” Katy said with a smile, looking up from her book, when he went to check on her. It wasn’t technically legal, but they were ignoring that for the moment. They’d sort it out later.
"Hi honey," he said. "I am very much ready for this to all be over.”
“I know. I keep thinking I can’t wait for life to return to normal…but it’s not going to ever be the same, is it? I mean, we’ll have a different life when we get back home.”
"Yes. But at least we'll have more of a say in it.”
There was a knock on the door, and then Jon Jon stepped in. “Pardon me. There are two women out here who claim to have obtained a specific dress that they insisted they had to deliver.”
Katy's eyes lit up and Shaun had to force himself not to grin. "Send 'em in.”
“Did you find my pink dress?” Katy asked, as the women came in.
“Maybe,” he said neutrally.
They came fussing over, apologizing to Katy for their previous interactions with her, and setting a large dress box on the other side of the sofa she was on. As she opened it, one of them said, “It took a while to track it down, the person we sold it to had already sold it again, and that person was about to take it apart because she’d spilled wine all over the skirt, but we knew you would need mourning dresses so to hide the stain we dyed it black.”
Katy had, by that point, reached the dress within the tissue paper and was staring dumbly at the now clearly black bodice. She made an odd face, which looked for a moment like she was trying not to laugh, perhaps at the sheer absurdity of the saga of this dress. Of this entire trip. If there was one thing she was good at, it was taking things in stride.
He absolutely did not expect her to just burst into tears.
The women looked caught somewhere between confusion and panic. Shaun put on his sternest face and pointed to the door. "Out."
They backed out of the room, bowing and apologizing, near tears themselves. He'd let them sweat a bit. He doubted Katy would want him to punish them in any meaningful way, but a little bit of fear went a long way. When they'd closed the door behind them, he turned and wrapped his arms around Katy. "I'm sorry.”
She cried into the front of his shirt. “It was my favorite dress.”
"I know, honey. I'm so sorry. I really am.”
The crying did not seem to lessen. “I don’t want to wear black clothes for a year.”
"Jesus. We won't. Day after the funeral we're out of here.”
“People keep telling me we have to stay for at least 49 days or it’s bad luck.” She pulled back and sniffled loudly, wiping her eyes and her nose. “And you need to deal with the vault of gold. And we’re not actually married. And I don’t have any clothes.” More tears came, and she put her hands over her face. “I’m sorry.”
"Don't apologize. You have been amazing through all of this. And I don't give two shits what people are saying. I hated the man in life I am not letting him run out lives in death. The funeral is in two days and we are leaving whenever we want to after. In the mean time, we are going to go shopping and get you whatever clothes you want. And we're going to use some of the gold downstairs to buy it.”
She leaned on him against. “I love you. But aren’t we going to ruin the economy or something if we spend the gold?"
"Only if we spend all of it at once. I can spend a few fistfuls of gold coins to get my girls some dresses. Rich men do that all the time.”
“I hear you’re one of those now.”
"So I keep telling myself.”
She wiped her eyes again and straightened. “Okay. I’m going to go put my dress on—dyed or not, it’ll fit better than what I’ve been borrowing from your sister. And then we’ll go find a dressmaker.”
"I will go downstairs and gather up some coins and get ready to play the spoiling asshole.”
Katy kissed him gently, and then went to change. Out in the hallway, Shaun ran into Jon Jon, who, when asked, said he’d find someone who could recommend a few shops. “Oh, also, I’ve got some professional mourners—well, they’re actresses from the show in Deadwood—so there’s always someone there to look sad by the coffin when visitors arrive. Take all the time you need. Maybe it will cheer her up. I did not know what to do with the crying this morning. She said they were happy tears, but she took my handkerchief.”
Shaun frowned. "She was crying this morning, too?”
He shrugged. “Some women are like that. Drop of a hat.” Which was true, but Katy usually wasn’t.
Others are are like your sister, who didn’t cry the time I had to pull a bullet out of her arm.”
"Hey, I knew her as a little kid. She lost her first tooth and came to me certain she had scurvy.”
Jon Jon grinned widely. “Thank you so much for telling me that.”
Shaun clapped him on she shoulder. "I have seven years worth, man. Let's share a drink before I get out of this hell hole.”
“I will take you up on that.” He paused. “But speaking of women crying, what do you want me to do about the two in the vestibule?”
“I’ll go talk to them,” Shaun replied with a sigh. “They clearly meant well.”
They were very apologetic, talking over each other to beg him not to punish their husband/father’s business (they seemed to be mother and daughter). It took him a minute to calm them down enough to explain that he was not like his father. He had no intention of ruining and entire family for an honest mistake.
“We’ll remake if for her,” the older one said. “If she can just come describe it to our pattern drafter, we can have it cut and made up today.”
“Don’t bullshit him,” Jon Jon scolded. “The two of you can’t sew one of those bustle dresses in single day. A week is a rich-lady rush job.” Clearly Xialing hadn’t told him about the vault.
“We have a garment factory,” the younger one said. “We can do it.”
“We can make anything you want. Fancy dress, even. Silk comes from China, Mr. Xu. We get you wholesale prices.”
“I will talk to my wife,” was his reply.
Jon Jon finally herded them out, and when Shaun returned to the parlor, Katy had come back downstairs and in a much better mood. Good enough to prioritize speed over her irritation at the women who’d dyed her dress—she reluctantly admitted that they’d done a very good job at it—and agreed to let them make her dresses. They’d made everyone’s wedding attire with care and speed. She requested Jon Jon have them come in the morning, because the process would take a while.
“I admit, it doesn’t feel like the spoiling I was intending on doing,” Shaun told her. He was oddly disappointed.
She laughed a little. “Oh. We’re still going shopping. I still need everything else—hats and gloves and shoes that don’t need a buttonhook.” She grinned widely at him. “Jewelry, even.”
"Oh, I bet I can be a real asshole at a jewelry store.”
“Go get your gold,” she replied.
*
When the finally headed out, there was a fancy carriage waiting inside. The inside was upholstered in red silk and she was a little mesmerized. Shaun looked very amused at her delight. “Am I being a bumpkin right now?”
"I mean, a little. But it's cute.”
San Francisco had a couple of fancy department stores, a completely foreign and fascinating thing to her. She got shoes, stockings, gloves, a new dressing gown and nightdress, a velvet cloak, underlinen, two new bustles, a cashmere shawl, and a couple of trunks to put everything in. Occasionally the salesperson in any given department was wary of them. A small gold coin manifested and it was all smiles.
He probably could have talked his way into the Cheyenne hotel with enough cash. As it seemed, no matter what race you were, money talked.
In housewares, where she was just browsing, they met a salesgirl with red hair who did not give them the side eye. Though she didn’t seem to know anything about what was in her department. “I’m so sorry, they keep moving me around. As soon as I start getting good enough to actually sell things, I end up somewhere else. I’ve been told I annoy people because I talk too much. Which I seem to be doing right now. But it’s only when I’m nervous, and if they didn’t keep moving me, I would be less nervous. I just really need to pay my landlady. I’m sorry. Can I help you with anything?”
Katy had never actually lived alone, but she’d seen her parent sweat the rent and try and make their income cover bills it never quite could. They were doing better now, but her father still counted every nickel. That was the life she’d expected and it didn’t seem like she’d have to. Her or her family, considering the basement of gold.
She wasn’t here for housewares given they didn’t have a house, and buying things like that in San Francisco was a waste. She did not own a table, yet she turned her head and said, “Shaun, I want some tablecloths.”
He looked from her to the girl a moment, then smiled. "Of course honey, anything you want. Let's get some matching napkins, too."
Katy herself did not have a table. But her parents owned a restaurant. She smiled at her new friend. “You might need a pencil to make a list.”
If it was of use in a kitchen or dining room, and could fit in a trunk, Katy bought it. And another trunk to fit it in. Shaun gave the salesgirl a tip, too, prompting tears. Which then made Katy tear up, too. All of the recreational mourning was getting to her.
The last thing on her list was hats. The selection and the department store wasn’t great, and the old ladies in that section seemed particularly hostile. She didn’t feel like giving them cash. So instead they decided to try a millinery shop.
Which…might have been a mistake. The first shop would barely let them get in the door. The second had a sign outside that said ‘No negros, chinamen, or dagos’.
“I’ll try one more shop and then I’m going hatless.”
Shaun's face was getting dark. "This one isn't turning us away," he said and it sounded very much like a promise. Or possibly a threat.
“Don’t stab anyone, okay?” She pushed open the door of the shop.
"You have my word.”
There were two women inside. They both looked at her and Shaun, then at each other. One cleared her throat, and said, “I’m sorry, we don’t-”
Before she could finish, Shaun stepped up to the counter, reached in his pocket and pulled out a fistful of coins. He started dropping them on the counter. "My wife needs hats." clink "We can buy them from you." clink clink clink "Or someone else." clink "What were you going to say?”
The two women stared at the gold pile in silence. Then one looked up and smiled. “How can we help you, sir?”
He turned back to Katy and smiled. "How many hats did you want, darling?”
When the carriage took them home an hour later, one side of the seats was completely covered in hat boxes. It was only couple of blocks, but the road was crowded. Katy was tired, and fell asleep on Shaun’s shoulder.
He tucked an arm around her, waking her gently when the got back to the house. "Want me to carry you?”
“I can walk,” she replied, tipping her face up to kiss his cheek. “Might take a nap before dinner, though. Shopping is tiring. Thank you, by the way. Today was really nice.”
"It was," he agreed. "You sure you okay? You've been really tired the last couple days.”
“I’ve been busy the last couple of days. Maybe everything is just catching up.”
"Okay. Come on. I'll walk you upstairs.”
When they got up to their room, she changed into the tea gown she’d bought at the department store and got him to loosen her corset. She might have laced it a little too tight. Shaun said he’d wake her for dinner, and she shooed him out so she could nap. She didn’t want to worry him, but she was starting to wonder if she actually was coming down with something.
She felt better by dinner, and there certainly was nothing wrong with her appetite. She and Shaun turned in early for reasons that had nothing to do with sleeping. Jon Jon felt the need to cat call them from the table, which made Shaun blush and clearly horrified the Ten Rings old guard. Katy really did like him.
The next day she spent the entire morning in the back parlor, picking patterns and fabrics and being measured from every possible angle.
Xialing came to visit with her and inspect the various fabric samples for things she might want to order. “My brother asked me to make sure no one disrupted your morning.”
“He worries,” Katy replied. The women were arguing with each other in a dialect Katy didn’t understand.
“The old one thinks the young one took your measurements wrong,” Xialing said helpfully.
The older woman huffed, and then made Katy stand for measuring again. There was then more gesturing and arguing, but they started packing up. Xialing spoke to them in whatever dialect that was, and then there was some laughing and bowing. It was a weird exchange, which Katy hoped Xialing would explain once they left.
“I told them I bought you a different corset,” was what she said, gesturing at her chest. “But they’ll probably gossip.”
That didn’t help much. “Gossip about what?"
"You being pregnant.”
Katy stared at her. “I’m not…I mean, how could you possibly…” She sat down on the sofa. “How do you tell?”
"You're sleeping all the time, crying over everything, your corset doesn't fit and your tits are bigger.”
“That could be…other things.” She actually knew very little about how any of the worked. Clearly she know understood how someone got pregnant, but what went on after that, she didn’t have any detail on. Someone had told her your monthly cycle stopped. She hadn’t had hers since they left Triskelion, but it hadn’t been that long. Had it?
Xialing shrugged. "I could be wrong. Could be you bleed in the next few days and it was all lead up to that. But I've seen enough pregnant women to be suspicious.”
It had been the 4th of July. She’d missed the fireworks because she’d had to run home. She counted days just to be sure. “So that does seem to be a tad late. A week or…two.” It was definitely two.
"Are you usually irregular?”
“Noooo.” She debated between crying or hyperventilating. It was going to be one or the other soon.
She paused a moment. "Would you like me to make you some tea?”
“No,” she said immediately, the certainty of that being oddly calming. “I mean, I could probably do for some normal tea, but the kitchen staff could handle that.”
"All right." She paused again. "You should talk to Shangqi.”
“I know. I just don’t know if with the funeral tomorrow it’s quite the best time…”
"The funeral for the man he hated and if it wasn't for the household of witnesses we'd both have tossed into the week's garbage and been done with?”
“It’s more that it’s the day he has spend hours pretending he’s at least somewhat sad while interacting with dozens of people who want to tell him how much the corpse in there will be missed. Do I want to give him one more thing to be stressed about?” Though Katy wasn’t sure that would matter. Keeping her thoughts to herself wasn’t her strong suit.
"Maybe you'll be giving him something to be happy about.”
She blew out a breath. “I think I need to let it sink in a little bit. But you’re not wrong.”
"Somehow, my brother grew up to be a good man. He's going to be a good dad.”
Katy looked up at her. “You should tell him that. Because he’s not going to think so, and he’s not going to believe me.”
"I'll try to find time." She pointed at her. "But not until you tell him your news.”
Chapter 11: Near the Trail’s End
Notes:
It feels weird to start every post these days with an assurance that we're not dead. But we're not. Life has just been really crazy. We are writing as much as ever--in fact we wrote an entire 65K word fic and are 95% through a second one of equal length so far this year. But Nyx is going through some stuff right now and I run a corporate website for a living. I put things on the internet all day, and when I get home I'd rather write than edit more content and put it on the internet. So we're trying to figure out this posting deal. Y'all might just get the whole thing at once like a novel, or maybe a chapter a day for a week or something, I don't know. We love to share, we just have to figure out how to do it in a way that currently works for us.
We posted our first mutual fic ten years ago (March of 2014). Crazy where the time goes.
Chapter Text
The house was busy making final preparations for the funeral. Shaun had about had it with the mourners, and spent most of the day downstairs in his father’s study with the two accountants and goldsmith they’d hired to count and evaluate the fortune in the vault. Every surface of the room was covered with different piles—coins of different denominations, nuggets, bars, and pieces of jewelry. They’d even unearthed some gold teeth, which everyone found disturbing. Xialing had two armed guards outside the door at all times.
“You should put the jewelry aside,” Katy told him that evening, after they’d retired for the night. She was fidgeting around, waiting for servants to finish filling the bathtub. The Compound had running water, but the building in Chinatown did not. He was going to make sure their house in Triskelion had running water and porcelain tub. Maybe two.
"You want to look through it?”
“No, I meant maybe to return some of them. I’m guessing that was people paying your father’s extortion with the only valuable things they had. Family heirlooms. Wedding rings.”
"It's a good idea," he said. "I'll find someone to get on that." Maybe they could figure out some sort of reimbursement for the teeth, too.
The maid dumped the final bucket and left, and Katy started unbuttoning her dress. “The seamstresses said if I want all the dresses I liked it will take a week. I said I’d have to talk to you if that was staying too long.”
"If that's how long it takes to get your dresses, that's how long we'll stay.”
He watched her take off the bodice and then the skirts and all the layers beneath. It made him think of the first night in Denver, with her trying to undress without flashing too much skin. Now she just presented him her back to loosen her corset laces without comment. He moved her hair to kiss the back of her neck and she made a little humming noise.
After she took off the rest of her underthings and got in the tub, she asked, “How are you feeling?”
"Better," he admitted, after a moment's thought. "It's almost over, right? And now the house is as much LingLing's people as dad's. Feels like we're almost done with it.”
Katy yawned. “And then we go home.”
"Yes. And I let your dad get one free swing.”
That made her chuckle. “My father is not going to punch you. I told them in one of the telegrams that we got married.”
"Right, then your mother is going to punch me.”
“Ah, she’ll forgive you. You bought her twenty dollars worth of Irish linen tablecloths.”
"I liked the white lacy ones. We should get one when we have a house.”
She was twisting her washcloth into shapes. “You were talking the other day about having one built…”
"With the gold we're bringing back it can be a really nice one," he told her. "You ever want a house bigger than the Starks?”
“How long do you think something like that would take to build?”
"Depends on how busy Barnes and Thor are. Couple months, maybe?”
“So definitely by spring?”
"I hope so, I'd want to start buying horses by then." He frowned and looked over at her. “Why?"
“Um…” She tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling, in a way that made him nervous. “So I’m not entirely sure about this, it takes a while to be actually certain…” She sat up in the tub and turned so she could see him, and rest her arms and chin on the edge. “But I believe there is going to be a baby in the spring.”
His mouth opened and closed a couple of times as shock rendered him speechless. For some reason, the first words he was actually able to form were. "Is that why you've been crying all the time?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Also the sleeping and spilling out of my corset. According to your sister. Like I said it’s too early to be actually sure, but my…lady times are a couple weeks late. It all lines up.” She bit her lip. “I know this is bad timing, I’m sorry. But also you were the one who said-” She broke off, and he could see the tears forming.
"Hey, hey. There's no bad timing." He went and kneeled at her side. "This is great news, Katy. This is the best timing.”
She wiped her eyes, but she did at least smile. “After the house was built might be better.”
"I mean, sure, but we both do better with a firm deadline.”
She laughed a little. Then she studied his face rather seriously. “You’re sure you’re okay? This is big and we’ve only been married a week—which may or may not be legal—and a month ago we were just friends. Also your father died and you’ve had a sudden change in economic status.”
"Well, that last one is actually a positive. If not for my inheritance, I'd be worried about having enough to take care of her.”
“I might list both of them as a positive. I’d rather not be looking over my shoulder for Evil Grandpa.”
"That's a good point. He might have gotten ideas about starting over with the next generation.”
She leaned forward enough to kiss the tip of his nose, and then settled back into the tub. “Something else I need you to prepare yourself for is that I am probably going to tease you about how I definitely wasn’t going to get pregnant for at least 25 years. Fair warning.”
"I probably deserve that.”
Katy finished her bath and gave him the tub while she got ready for bed. Usually she wanted to talk about everything, at length, but was surprisingly quiet. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, and it gave him space to process. That it was absolutely good news didn’t make it any less of twist in what had been an unpredictable journey.
When he was done with his bath he joined her in bed, curling around her and tugging her against his chest. "You all right?" he asked quietly.
“I am.” She paused. “At this point I think you can assume if I’m not crying, I’m okay. Fifty-fifty on whether crying is good or bad, but clearly it will be frequent.”
He chuckled. "I should go back to the red head and get some napkins to keep as handkerchiefs.”
“I did buy quite a few.” He could feel her relaxing, and found himself flattening his hand over her abdomen, which prompted her to murmur, “There won’t be anything to feel for quite a while.”
"No, I can definitely feel something," he teased.
“Maybe too many dumplings.” She yawned again. “I think I’ll be scared when it sinks in, but right now I’m too tired to be.”
"Anything you need, let me know. I want to help.”
“I know. But the most dangerous part is the one I have to do myself.”
He stroked her hair gently. "I know. If I could do it for you, I would.”
“Mmm. It’s women’s work. Men can’t handle it.” She sounded very confident about that.
"I'm sure all the ladies in town will be happy to help you.”
She didn’t reply, and he realized she’d fallen asleep. Smiling to himself, he tucked the sheets up to her chin and closed his eyes.
He had disjointed dreams, and woke up in barely dawn twilight. He left Katy to sleep, watching her as he got dressed and trying to picture what a child would look like, half him and half her. Whenever he’d let himself contemplate the life he’d wanted but thought impossible, he’d never gone so far as to imagine anything that concrete.
The house was quiet when he went downstairs in search of some food and coffee. It didn’t surprise him to find Xialing down there, dressed all in black, standing in the doorway of the parlor where their father’s casket had been laid out. “Good morning, gege,” she said, something she hadn’t called him since childhood.
"Mei-mei," he said quietly. "You're up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” She looked into the parlor. “The limbo is almost over.”
"Finally," he said on a sigh. He joined her at the door, looking in on the body. "Still can't believe he's dead.”
“I mean, I believe it. I’ve have had longer to think about it. But he’s not actually gone yet. I think it’s going to feel different when he’s in the ground.”
"I agree. Seeing him go into the ground will help.”
“I thought I’d feel happier. And God knows I’ve been pretending to be sad. Mostly it’s just numb. Like being out in the snow too long, you don’t know if you have frostbite until you warm up.”
He nodded. "Part of me thinks it's because we never got closure. Never got to tell him what we thought of him, how terrible it was. But the rest of me knows it wouldn't have mattered. We could have dissected our lives for him, gone minute by minute of every terrible thing he said or did. And he still would have gone to his grave believe himself a good father and benevolent leader.”
“So benevolent that people paid him with their fucking teeth.”
"I'm sure he thought it was his fair due." Shaun sighed. "May he rot.”
She was quiet a moment, then asked, “How’s Katy?”
He grinned widely, despite himself. “Pregnant."
Xialing smiled back. “I know, I’m the one that told her.” She bumped his shoulder. “Congratulations.”
"Thanks." He was quiet a moment. "I have as many conflicted feelings about that as I do about Dad. But they're generally happier.”
“What’s there to be conflicted about? We’ve got a great example of what not to do.”
"I don't know if that's enough for solid parenting advice. But Katy's parents are decent. I guess they'll keep us in line.”
“I think you’ll be a good father,” she told him.
He startled a little and looked at her. "You do?”
“You are clearly a good person, which seems to be an important qualifier.” She looked back at the body. “When you showed up in Deadwood, I assumed you were just like him. I saw a man dragging a woman a long distance into a very dangerous situation because he couldn’t stand to be without her. Then you went with the Marshalls without a fuss, and spent your one opening to escape instead on wiring me to drag her back to Kansas.”
"She insisted on coming to Deadwood with me," he said dryly. "I'd have had to hogtie her to get her to stay home. And even then she probably would have been on the next train after me. Only pissed.”
“I spent a week in transit with her, I know. When she asked if I was going to heed your telegram she looked braced for a fist fight.”
He laughed a little. "I hope you would have gone easy on her.”
“My best option was probably chloroform.”
"Yeah. She's got a little brother. She fights dirty.”
“You think our father ever put anyone else’s needs or safety above his own wants? You think he ever considered if he was or was not a good parent?”
"I'm sure if he did he came to the immediate conclusion he was the best father in the world.”
“You worry. So you’ll try. So you’ll do better than him.”
He smiled a little. "Thank you, mei-mei." He was quiet a moment. "You ready to be a cool auntie?”
“I will come visit and bring an offensive amount of gifts.”
"I look forward to that.”
“Now we just need to get through today. Get the future started tomorrow.”
"You know what I think we should do tomorrow?" Xialing arched a brow at him. "Get really drunk and break all his favorite things.”
She grinned at him. “You’re on.”
*
Katy played the dutiful life and daughter-in-law during the protracted, day long funeral. Her main job was to keep people from overwhelming her husband, and did so much talking she was a little hoarse by evening. They both collapsed into bed.
The next evening she had to tuck Shaun into bed, piss drunk, after he and his sister raided the fanciest liquor in the house and spent the afternoon burning things in the parlor fireplace. Katy joined them for dinner—on the front parlor coffee table—and got to witness her stab a chair with a knife. It was later disassembled and pieces also fed to the fireplace. Katy put her foot down about throwing plates off the roof. They could do it tomorrow when sober enough to climb up there without dying.
A week later they were up at the compound, loading everything they wanted from it—mostly things from their mother, and some very valuable art—into boats to bring them across the bay. It was very much the prison he referenced escaping, and neither of them wanted anything to do with it.
The last step was entirely Katy’s idea, and as a reward, they graciously let her do the honors.
“Are you sure you can hit it from here?” Xialing asked.
“Why do you even know how to shoot a bow and arrow anyway?” That was Jon Jon, who’d come on this little adventure.
“Our town has several world-class archers and one of them likes to teach people,” Katy replied lining up her aim. They were on the beach near the water, as far back as they could get without being on a boat.
“Barton?” Shaun asked, surprised.
“Ha. No. Teaching would require conversing and that’s not his style. Syn Odinsson taught me. Someone light this thing.”
Xialing still looked skeptical, but she struck a match an lit the kerosene-soaked cloth wrapped behind the arrowhead. Katy let it fly, watching it soar up towards the main house and land on the roof of the porch, among the piles of hay and paper and more kerosene.
It smoldered a moment, then started to slowly catch. Then, with a noise they felt as much as heard, the accelerant took and the front of the house was hidden by an impressive conflagration.
There was cheering from the audience. Katy lowered the bow and the four of them stood there, watching, until the flames ignited the top roof, too.
"I have never been so pleased by arson," Shaun said after a moment.
“That guy in the kitchen who’s missing three fingers on one hand told me he helped build the transcontinental railroad,” Jon Jon said. “Did blasting in the mountains. Keeps saying he knows where to get and how to handle dynamite.”
“You’re just telling us this now?” Xialing asked.
“Would you trust a guy missing three fingers to handle explosives?”
She shrugged. "Missing just fingers and not, like, his face, is probably a decent sign.”
“Fair,” Jon Jon replied. He gestured at the house. “But fire was good too, right?”
"Fire's very good," she conceded, watching it burn. "Now it feels done.”
They watched as the house was consumed, until the embers started to drift down to the beach, and Shaun insisted they get on the boat. They idled away slowly, because the fire was still quite the spectacle.
They bay was choppy, rocking the boat, which made Katy’s stomach do somersaults. She was proud she managed to get to the side of the boat and throw up over it into the water, instead of in her own lap.
"Okay," Xialing said, when Shaun went over to rub her back and hold her hair. "But can I make you non-scary tea?”
“I will accept tea,” Katy replied. “And also getting back to dry land.”
"Let's go home," Shaun said, gesturing at the boat driver. "I could use a warm drink, too.”
Katy was queasy until they got back to the city, and insisted they hike up from the wharf simply because she didn’t want to get in a carriage.
Xialing’s tea had so much ginger in it that it made her nose run, but it did settle her stomach.
"Mint helps, too," she told her. "But it tastes gross.”
“I agree,” Katy replied.
“You’re both nuts,” Shaun said. They’d had some conversations about mint. And also mushrooms.
Except for some reason right now mushrooms sounded kind of appealing.
"You have a look that makes me think I'm about to run all over the city for some very specific food," Shaun said, with a mix of exhaustion and fondness only he could manage.
She sounded as appalled as she felt when she said, “I want mushrooms.”
Sure enough, he stared at her. "You hate mushrooms.”
“I know!”
“The baby obviously likes mushrooms,” Jon Jon said. They all turned to look at him, because Katy had wanted to keep that quiet until she was more sure. Which, admittedly, now she kinda of was. “What? Was that supposed to be a secret?”
Katy chuckled. “No, I suppose not.”
"What kind of mushrooms?" Xialing asked. "There's dozens.”
“I don’t know, I don’t usually like them. Maybe start with whatever is in the kitchen so Shaun doesn’t have to run all over town.”
"Her mother always tries to sneak the little white ones with long stalks in her soup," Shaun offered.
"Enoki," Xialing supplied. "They don't have a strong flavor. I'll go tell the chef.”
Katy ate them at dinner, and found them delicious. Shaun was entirely too delighted. “I’m tempted to sent your mother a telegram.”
“She’ll guess I’m pregnant, do some math, and the my father will punch you.”
"Still might be worth it.”
When she went to bed that night she felt good, and woke up feeling sick again in the morning. More ginger tea was made, and she had toast for breakfast that ended up in the chamber pot. Shaun insisted on calling a doctor—just in case—but Katy actually felt better by the time he arrived. He patted Shaun on the arm and said, “First time fathers are always like this.”
As the doctor was leaving, the two seamstresses making Katy’s dresses showed up. They had three employees carry in the dress boxes, and she and Xialing sat in the living room pulling out all the beautiful pieces. That would probably not even fit anymore before the weather in Kansas was cool enough to wear half of them.
“The skirts are all made with ties, and a drawstring on the gathers in the back,” the younger one told her. “The bodices are laced instead of buttoned or hooked, and there are very generous seam allowances in the back so they can be taken out.”
“You’re a young newlywed,” the older one added. “With good luck you will be expecting soon, so we made space for that.”
They both looked horrified when—just like their last delivery—Katy burst into tears. “Happy crying!” she managed. “It’s good.”
Xialing rubbed her temples a moment. "She is still very emotional from the funeral," she explained. "And is very touched by your thoughtfulness. She and my brother hope to have good news soon and these modifications will be very appreciated."
The women nodded and fluttered a bit, everyone thanking and apologizing to each other and trying to out-polite each other.
When they finally left, with the bag of gold Shaun had given her to pay them, Katy put her hands over her face and groaned. “The crying might be worse than the puking.”
"I find it more unsettling," Xialing agreed. "You have cried in front of me more in that last week than I have in the last decade.”
“I think it’s more than i have cried in the last decade. I didn’t cry when an assassin attacked me and stabbed Shaun and then Shaun killed him and told me about his terrifying past. I was in the middle of a stagecoach robbery. Instead of crying I counted shots and climbed the side of a moving carriage to take control of the reins. I feel like crying a little when the Marshalls were taking him and stranding me in Deadwood with a stranger—no offense—was justified. But it’s been all nonsense after that.”
"I'm told the hormones settle after the first few months, but I'm no expert.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Chapter 12: Peace for a Gunfighter
Notes:
Fic Advent #8. I thought Nyx had posted something yesterday, but I'm just dumb. So this is for yesterday, and then there will be another one for today.
I had to edit this chapter a little or it would have spoiled the end of Between God, the Devil and a Winchester
Chapter Text
Every morning from then on she woke up feeling sick, and managed to get her stomach settled enough to eat dinner. Katy could tell Shaun wanted to go home, but she couldn’t fathom spending a week on a rocking train—even in the evenings, when she was otherwise better, carriages made her sick.
So they stayed in San Francisco for a few more weeks, while he helped Xialing renovate the upper floors of the building, and continue to sort through and count the gold. Then one morning she woke up, and didn’t immediately lunge for the chamber pot. The next day her toast stayed down, and the next an entire real breakfast consumed in the dining room.
A week after that, Xialing’s private car was being hooked to a Union Pacific train the Oakland rail yard. Unlike Mr. Stark’s, there wasn’t a private baggage car, so all their trunks—and a crate of gold—were stacked in the parlor. They also had four burly men, armed to the teeth, joining them on their journey.
The nausea had lessened, but the tears hadn’t, so Katy cried a little when she hugged Xialing goodbye.
"I will come visit when it's time for the baby to come," she promised. "Keep gege from barging into the room and stressing you out.”
Jon Jon hugged her, too. “I’m going to come along with her,” he said. “Not for the birth or anything, I just want to see this crazy town.”
Katy laughed. “You’ll fit right in.”
"That's what I like to hear."
Shaun hugged his sister tightly. "I love you, LingLing." She mumbled something in a Chinese dialect Katy didn't understand but made Shaun laugh. Then they parted and he reached over for her hand. “Ready?"
“As ready as I can be,” she replied. He helped her up the stairs to the platform on the end of the car, and they stayed there to watch and wave as they pulled away from the station.
Katy went inside because the smoke was getting to her. The parlor of the car was crowded with the trunks and the guards, but it had a full bedroom so they had some privacy. Katy decided what she needed was a nap.
“I didn’t get to appreciate this much on the way west, I was so worried,” she told Shaun when he came in to check on her. She’d deliberately worn a dress without a bustle so she could just lay down.
"It's very nice," he said. "My sister's done all right for herself.”
“And now we have a bunch of gold.”
"We do. And I can spoil you rotten.”
She took his hand in both of hers and kissed his knuckles. “Just so we’re clear, I loved you when you had nothing. And before you knocked me up.”
He laughed and tugged her hands to take his turn kissing them. "I know. But I'm glad I can take care of you. And the little mushroom lover.”
“You wanna take a nap with me?”
"That sounds like a great idea." He took his boots off and joined her on the bed, curling around her with one hand flat on her belly.
She hadn’t wanted to bait the nausea gods by putting on a corset before taking a ferry across the bay, so she’d just used the Chinese wrapping to keep her breasts in place. “There might be a little bump there,” she murmured. “Just a little.”
"I think there is," he confirmed, rubbing a little. "I'm glad you're feeling better.”
“Thank you for staying so long.”
"It was a lot more pleasant once he was buried.”
“Good. Maybe we can take the mushroom to visit Auntie Xialing.”
"That would be nice. They can see the city their parents are from.”
She nestled closer to him, and the rocking of the train lulled her to sleep.
*
The train crossed California and climbed up into the mountains. It was snowing a little up at the peak of the pass, even though it was September. There wasn’t really anything to do but watch the scenery, and for the first time in more years than he could count—maybe ever—Shaun actually relaxed. Katy felt so much better that one afternoon when he woke her from her nap she pulled him down into the bed by the shirt, and they got to have a little bit of a honeymoon.
The curve of her belly was definitely noticeable when she was naked.
On the last long stop where they were moving the car between trains, they stayed overnight in a hotel mostly because she wanted a bath.
He helped her get dressed as the train made it’s way to Triskelion. “Are you sure it’s okay to tighten this?”
“Shaun, I can fit my hand down the front, please pull the laces.”
"It's just, won't it squish the baby?”
“It doesn’t have a spoon busk,” she replied. That didn’t clarify anything for him. “I promise, it’s fine.”
He tightened it a little more, then more at her insistence. "I think you look really nice without it, is the thing.”
When he tied it, she turned around. “I love you. But it supports my chest, which is sore, and also will hold up my skirt, which is heavy. I promise to walk around in just a dressing gown and no underthings at home.”
He couldn't help but grin. “Really?"
“After the baby is born, I might even be topless.”
"I love you," he told her with utmost sincerity.
She leaned up to kiss him, and then went about getting dressed. Her dress was blue and purple, all silk, different textures draped and looped over the bustle. It looked complicated, and had a small train. Her hair was pinned up under a matching hat. She did, in fact, look absolutely gorgeous.
"I can't wait to show off my wife," he murmured, bending to kiss her.
“I think we’re going to confuse the heck out of everyone, and it’s going to be fun.” She fussed with his lapels. “You also look like a proper gentleman.”
"Yeah?" He smoothed his hands down the front of his jacket. It the nicest piece of clothing he had ever owned and he was starting to think he could get used to it. "Wyatt and the others will probably make fun of me.”
“Wyatt is in no position to make fun of anyone’s outfits. Plus I brought him some wildly patterned Chinese silk to make some new waistcoats.”
"Oh, that's going to make his day.”
The train pulled into the Triskelion station and slowed to a stop. “I told my parents what train we were on. I didn’t think to mentioned we’d be in the private car at the end."
"Okay, be straight with me. Odds of me ended the day not punched?”
“Depends on if we tell them about the gold or the baby first.”
He looked down at her belly. "I guess the gold is more obvious?”
“It will be months before it’s that visibly obvious.”
It was probably his imagination that she was showing through the dress. New father jitters and all that. "Right. Well, being rich seems to absolve Stark of any and all failings. Let's hope it works for me.”
She nudged him, and they went out the back of the car, and he helped her down onto the train platform. Their porter and the guards began unloading their plethora of crates and trunks. Shaun squinted and could see her parents much further up on the platform, by the second class cars. Katy turned, swishing her train as she moved and looking very much like a society lady. Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed, “Ma!”
Good to know that money hadn't changed her. Her mother whipped around at the sound, spotted them, and her jaw dropped. Then she started hustling towards them, arms out to sweep Katy into a hug. Katy met her, and then her grandmother joined the hug as well.
Mr. Chen sauntered over at a slower pace. He stopped in front of Shaun. “You know I’d have said yes if you just asked.”
"I know, sir," he said. "And I meant to. It just… I got word about my father. Our relationship is — was — complicated. I couldn't imagine facing it alone. Katy offered to come, I said yes and it all just… happened.”
“Complicated, eh?” He glanced up at the Pullman. “The kind where condolences aren’t wanted?”
"The kind where my sister and I might have had a ceremonial bonfire or two.”
“Your father was quite the…I believe the American expression is ‘asshole’, back in the ’60’s. Can’t say I’m surprised it held up.” Shaun stared at him in surprise, and Mr. Chen added, “Young man, I have always known who you were.”
He stared at him another moment. "Why don't you hate me? Dad must have taken your money the way he did everyone else’s."
“I don’t hate you because I know you. I took you in because I know a scared child when I see one.” He shrugged. “Besides, a dutiful Chinese son doesn’t stow away on a transcontinental train unless home is pretty unbearable. Maybe as unbearable as the kind of home that gets a dutiful son to take his wife and cross an ocean.”
Shaun considered that a moment. "My father died a very rich man. Your daughter is never going to want for anything ever again.”
He grinned, gesturing at Shaun’s suit, the pile of trunks behind him, and the train. “Believe it or not, I worked that part out for myself.”
Katy appeared beside her father. “Dad, are you done? Mom wants to hug him.”
Mr. Chen pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm done."
Shaun stuck his hand out to shake, "Someday, let's share a bottle of something and talk about shitty dads.”
Mr. Chen shook it, and then Mrs. Chen and Waipo insisted on hugging him and welcoming him home.
“We’re going to need a wagon to get the trunks home,” Mr. Chen said.
“We need to stop at the bank, too,” Shaun said.
“They’re closed on Mondays.”
Katy cleared her throat. “Then somebody needs to run over to the Odinssons to get Mr. Odinsson to open it, because one of the trunks is, well, full of gold.”
Her mother looked from her to Shaun. "Gold?"
"Dad was a, uh, old fashioned guy.”
“All right,” Mr. Chen said with a shrug. “Let’s get us a wagon and a banker.”
Shaun hiked over to the livery stable. He’d left a note before he and Katy had left, and didn’t expect to still have a job—not that he needed it—but he hoped Wyatt wasn’t too pissed at him. Katy dug the bundles of silk out of the trunks for him to take as a peace offering.
He was very surprised to see a construction site where the newspaper, laundry, and bath house had been.
The stable looked fine, though Wyatt had his arm in a sling. Thankfully, he smiled. “Nice suit,” he called, coming out into the main aisle.
"Thanks," he replied. "What happened?" He gestured at the sling.
“That’s kind of a long story.” He tilted his head. “That is a really nice suit. What happened to you?”
"My dad died and I inherited a frankly obscene amount of money." He held up the silk. "Katy and I brought you some presents.”
“Oh, these are gorgeous, thank you.” He paused. “Are you here so I can help you hide from her father?”
"No. No, we're good. Got married in San Francisco. I just came to check in, apologize for leaving without notice. Oh, and rent a wagon for our trunks.” He’d almost forgotten about that.
“Hey, congratulations. About damn time and all. And you can borrow a wagon,” Wyatt added with an eye roll. “I’ll come with you and update you on the town happenings you missed.”
"Clearly there was a lot. What happened to the newspaper?”
They went together to get the horses and hitch them up to one of the wagons. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t the tornado. And everyone’s fine—”
“There was a tornado?”
“Yes, right after you left, actually. And it’s surprisingly far down the list of things that have happened.”
"And here I thought I was the one having all the adventure.”
By the time the got the wagon out in the street, Wyatt had caught him up on the drama he missed. Somewhere in there he admitted he and Kate Bishop had finally gotten together—though it had taken him nearly dying to do it.
“I take it you’re not coming back to work for me,” Wyatt commented as they approached the train station.
"I mean, I'm happy to help out until the house gets built. But I'm hoping to start my own ranch. Breed horses.”
“There’s always people looking for work, I’m sure one of them will be competent. You should go help build your own house. Though I think if it were me I’d build something small just for the two of you, then the barn and stable and get the operation going. Build the big house later, before you have kids.”
Shaun coughed lightly. "Well, um. That'll be sooner than later.”
Wyatt laughed. “Oh, really?”
"It wasn't planned, obviously. But, well. Yeah. We had a lot of time to make up for.”
“Clearly.” Wyatt looked very amused by this. “Congratulations about that, too.”
They reached the train station, where Katy and her family were waiting. Xialing’s guards had hauled the trunks down off the platform.
Katy waved. “Hey, Wyatt! I drove a Stagecoach.”
Wyatt turned and looked at Shaun. “You really did have an adventure, didn’t you?”
"I'll tell you all about it," he promised. "But it'll take all night.”
Chapter 13: Epilogue - The Trail Beyond
Notes:
Fic Advent #9! This is the end of this story. Tomorrow there will be an update on one of Nyx's solo stories, and then Wednesday a new story will start posting.
Chapter Text
April, 1884
Katy agreed with Wyatt’s advice—buy the land, build a cottage, start the big house after they got the ranch/farm running. She wanted to decorate and nest before the baby came. The house went up pretty quickly, and they moved in by the time the weather turned.
It was a bitterly cold winter, so bad they were glad they didn’t have the horses yet. Wyatt had to close his stables some days to keep his inside. In January there was a blizzard so bad it snowed them in for four days. And it wasn’t just Kansas; when Xialing send them a telegram to wish them a happy Chinese New Year, she reported it was snowing in San Francisco.
By the time the ground thawed, Katy was too big to do anything but sit in a chair with her feet up while Shaun got to work. She mostly perseverated over house plan books, sewed diapers and knit. The weather was so bad so late that they weren’t sure if Xialing would make the birth because of snow in the mountains, but she managed to arrive two days before it stared.
A storm rolled in. Rain instead of snow, but it was torrential and had enough wind and thunder that Katy wondered about tornados. She didn’t bother to ask, because even if there was on on the lawn outside, they’d tell her it was fine. Just like labor was fine. Her mother seemed convinced that if she insisted hard enough, childbirth would stop being dangerous.
Triskelion had a doctor who delivered babies, but that was usually only if there was trouble, or someone was fancy. Shaun assumed because they were wealthy, they were now fancy, and should have the doctor. He was a perfectly nice man, but as long as there was no medical reason for it, Katy really didn’t want an old white man under her dress. Most of the babies in the Chinese neighborhood were delivered by Syn Odinsson—the long labor of the woman in the house next door to theirs was why Katy learned how to shoot a down and arrow, in fact. So that was what Katy wanted.
Her friends came to visit her once the show really got on the road, and it was fun to sit around and drink tea and entertains guests in her dressing down.
Eleven or twelve hours into her labor, she was starting to regret not asking Mrs. Barnes to come with chloroform. Or maybe morphine.
She wasn’t a person to do anything quietly, and this was no exception. Syn gently herded Katy’s friends—all childless—out the door as soon as they started looking queasy. MJ outlasted the others because she didn’t even have a threshold for queasy.
“It’s good she’s here,” Waipo said at one point. “In case you die.”
“Don’t say that!” Mom replied, sounding horrified. “She’s going to be fine! Honestly, it’s probably bad luck to have an undertaker at a birth. No offense, you seem like a very nice girl.”
“Women die giving birth all the time,” Waipo insisted. “Especially the first one. I picked out a funeral outfit for myself while I was laboring with you.”
“You are going to scare her.”
Katy had to wait for the contraction to be finished before she could intervene. “I’m already scared, honesty isn’t going to make it worse.” She looked over at MJ. “Don’t mind them, you’re not bad luck.”
"Thank you." She looked at her mother. "If it helps, I have basic medical knowledge. I might actually be useful if anything goest wrong.”
“Not talking about things you’re afraid of doesn’t make them go away,” Xialing said. She was going back and forth between the bedroom and the parlor where Shaun was. “My family could write a manual on that.”
Waipo concurred and Mom fussed and MJ talked to Syn about medical things. By the time her next contraction was done, Xialing had joined and they were discussing the contents of the labor tea than Syn kept giving her. Xialing asked MJ a question about detecting poison in dead bodies, which Katy was glad she was too busy breathing to react to. The conversation got so detailed Katy’s mother decided she needed to go make herself some regular tea.
“Can I ask you something?” Katy said to MJ, when the conversation about cadaver stomach contents finally petered out.
"About stomach contents?" she asked brightly.
“About funerals.”
"Oh! Yes, of course.”
“If I, you know…given that things wouldn’t have shrunk back, obviously, would you still be able to get me in a nice dress? I’d hate to have to be buried in a nightgown or that stupid wrapper that is the only thing that’s fit me since March.”
"Yes, absolutely, whichever one you wanted. Keep in mind corpses don't have comfort, and they're only seen from the front and waist up. There's lots of tricks. Back in New York I had a lady who wanted to be buried in her wedding dress. Well, the wedding was forty two years, five kids and seventy pounds ago. The man I was training under thought it was hopeless. I told him to give me the night. I took the dress apart at the seams, used a couple yards of muslin and basically sewed it back onto her. Her family was thrilled.”
“You know the pink one? With the buttons? That one. And take me to the funeral home, I don’t want to be in the parlor for a week while my husband loses his mind.” She looked at Xialing. “Please stay as long as he’ll need you to.”
MJ had wandered over to her armoire and had pulled out the pink dress to inspect it. Xialing looked vaguely amused but nodded. "I'll take good care of him," she promised.
"If your funeral planning is done," Syn said. "I feel head. You can push on the next contraction.”
She took a deep breath. Almost over.
The rain picked up again. Her mother returned, and took up a position commanding her to push. The storm rattled the windows, and thunder boomed. She pushed and she screamed and she pushed more. Time lost meaning but she knew it wasn’t supposed to take this long. The baby must be stuck.
Outside the weather was about as bad as it got, but Syn was at the side of the bed talking to MJ about when someone should go into town to get Dr. Banner.
There wasn’t any break in the pain, and her mother and Waipo were like a matched pair, telling her to push and to breathe, in voices that had itemized all the many things she’d ever failed at. Which now seemed to include the most basic introductory task of motherhood.
Her mother seemed to think raising her voice might help. “You’re not pushing hard enough!”
“Do you want your baby to die?” that was Waipo.
They were both taking in Chinese, but all she could muster was English. “Stop yelling at me!” She was exhausted, and it hurt so much dying was starting to sound like a not-the-worst idea. Syn was now trying to get her family to give her space, and Xialing turned on her heel and walked out. Not that Katy could blame her. Who wanted to watch someone die?
She fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes, putting her hands over her face for good measure. Syn said something she didn’t listen to and then pulled her to turn onto her side. But she didn’t have anything left, she couldn’t possibly be expected to keep pushing.
Katy opened her eyes to see Shaun crouching down by the side of the bed. Her eyes swam and she managed to get out, “I’m sorry.”
"It's okay," he told her, lifting a hand to sweep damp hair out of her eyes. "You're okay." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I kicked your mom and Waipo out. Hopefully the baby will soothe their ire.”
She cried through the next contraction. “I can’t do this.”
"I know it's hard, honey," he whispered. "I'm not at all surprised our baby is a stubborn little cuss."
She heard Syn murmur and the bed dipped behind her and someone started to rub her lower back in circles. It felt really nice.
"You can do anything you want," Shaun told her. "You smuggled me into this town. Got us to Deadwood. Drove a stage. Lived through my dad. You can do this. And on the other side, you'll be a mom.”
There was another contraction, and he touched his forehead to hers and whispered to her to breathe. When she could, she whispered back, “Will you stay with me?”
"Of course. I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”
“Okay,” she replied with a nod. Syn moved her top leg up and asked Shaun to hold her knee. Someone looped a sheet around the bedpost and gave it to her to hold onto. She held his free hand and held his eyes. They breathed together and counted together and she pushed without having to be told.
It got to be just about the most unholy agony imaginable, and Syn said, “Last one, everything you’ve got.” The scream that went with it could probably be heard in town.
And just like that it was done. Sudden, immediate relief followed by a loud, angry baby’s cry.
Grinning, Shaun stroked her hair and leaned in to kiss her. "You did it.”
She craned her neck to see the baby, who Syn was wrapping in a towel. Katy was too exhausted to move much more, but Shaun reached up to take the bundle. “It’s a boy,” Syn said.
"Pity," Xialing said from behind Katy. "This family needs more women." It occurred to Katy that she must have been the one rubbing her back.
"I disagree," Shaun told her, cheerfully. Then held the baby for Katy to see. "Our son.”
“Hi there,” she murmured, touching his little face. She was in awe of him. “You were such a pain in the ass.”
"He is your kid," Shaun said, still grinning like an idiot.
"You can lay on your back again," Syn told her, bundling up a bunch of sheets and towel and carrying the out of the room.
Xialing helped her move over and sit up a bit, making space for Shaun to come sit on the bed with her. Then she took the baby from him and held his warm little body up against her chest. “Welcome to the world, mushroom,” she whispered to him.
"That was horrific," Xialing said, leaning over to peer at her nephew. "He's adorable. I'm going to go to the kitchen and get a drink."
"Thank you, meimei," Shaun said quietly.
She smiled and reached over to squeeze his shoulder. When she straightened, Katy said, “There’s whiskey in the cabinet next to the ice box.”
“You were screaming for hours, we broke that out a while ago,” Xialing replied with a chuckle. She gave her leg a little pat and left the room.
"She came out and told me your mom and Waipo were being extremely unhelpful and I needed to remove them before she started stabbing," Shaun told her.
“They were yelling at me in Chinese. I felt like was failing, and possibly dying, and it wasn’t helping. I’m sorry I listened to them when they insisted this was a womens thing and you needed to stay out of the room.”
"Syn told me Barton stayed with Miss. Natasha when she labored. What works for some people doesn't work for everyone.”
She looked up at him. “You are my favorite person, and I want you to be here the whole time with the next one.” The baby was rooting against her nightgown. “I think I need to feed him.”
"Right. Do you want me to get Miss Syn to help?”
“How hard can this be?” she replied. She pulled the neckline drawstring so she could get the gown off her shoulder, something he noticed and helped with halfway through. She moved the baby in the vicinity and he just grabbed onto her nipple and started sucking away. She laughed. “Oh my god, this feels so weird.”
He laughed, settling next to her with an arm around her shoulders. "I think it's really cool. You can just… feed him.”
She snuggled against Shaun and put her head on his shoulder. “We made a whole new person,” she replied.
"We did. He's no longer a mushroom.”
“We’re probably going to have to find something else to call him.” The baby had kicked his way out of the towel, and she was counting his tiny toes. “This morning Waipo asked if we were thinking of naming the baby after your father if it was a boy, and Xialing choked on her tea.”
"Speaking of things that would get her stabbing." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I wouldn't be opposed to calling him after your dad.”
“He would be very honored by that.” She sighed contentedly. “I love you. Even more than usual today.”
"Really? I was totally prepared for you to be all never touch me again or I'll castrate you.”
“Nah. I like it too much.” More practice, in fact, had only made it better. “Though I might tease you again about how I definitely wasn’t going to get pregnant.”
"I figured I'm in for a lifetime of that," he said with a sigh.
“Eh, when I talked to Mrs. Barnes about other contraception options, she told me the same thing happened to her.”
"Okay, if it happened to a nurse, I feel less stupid.”
“She apparently devoted some time to scientific experiments to explain why. I don’t think you want to hear the details of this conversation—though MJ will, actually, and I should tell her. But the gist is that if you don’t wait long enough between rounds, it stops working. Which I think means, logically, I probably got pregnant in Cheyenne.”
He smiled. "Kind of fitting, isn't it?”
“I still know all the words to that obscene Spanish song.”
"And now you have a son to teach them to.”
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