Dust --Chapter 1 PG-13

[librarian_7]

Disclaimer: The usual...don't own Josef. That's pretty much it.

A/N: Yup, it's a new multi-chapter. I should warn you that as usual, I'm posting as I write, so chapters will be coming irregularly. How many? As many as are needed to tell the story...which means, I don't know yet. If you want to be notified as chapters appear, please pm me, and I'll start a notification list.

Meanwhile, thanks for reading...we're off on another historical journey, this time in the Old West.

Lucky


Dust

Chapter 1

Western Kansas, October, 1873

The stagecoach hit another bump, and Sally Watkins felt her stomach give a sickening lurch. She folded her hands primly in her lap, concentrating on maintaining her precarious balance on the hard seat. She’d pitched more than once, during the course of the day, into the gentleman seated next to her, and it was hard to keep a hold on all the dignity her seventeen years could muster. She was very glad of both the concealment of her short cape, and the slight shelter of the brim of the deep poke bonnet she wore. Not for the first time, she cursed to herself at Jim, for making her take this long, uncomfortable journey, and in her condition, as well. Although to be fair, when he’d had the opportunity to join a group heading for the silver mining towns in southwestern Colorado three months ago, scant weeks after they were married, he’d had no idea he was leaving behind not only a wife, but also a child-to-be.

The road, such as it was, rolled across the low hills of the prairies, exposed to the wind and blowing dust of the plains. Sally’s father had always said this land would make good farm land, someday, but for now, it was still pasture for the vast herds of buffalo. She’d had a hard time, in Dodge City, standing the pervasive stench of the mountains of raw buffalo hides waiting to be shipped east on the railroad. At least the prairie smelled clean, she thought, even if the afternoon sun shining in the window was brighter than she found comfortable.

The stage bumped across another rut, and Sally fell sideways, jostling her neighbor. She’d thought he was asleep, the way he had his hat pulled down, and his lower face covered by his collar and a scarf against the dust, but he instantly had a gloved hand out to steady her.

She turned her head to look at him in the face for the first time, and found herself caught by a pair of amused, warm eyes the deep brown color of aged whiskey. Suddenly shy, she nodded once at the stranger, remembering almost too late that she should under no circumstances speak to him.

Almost as though reading her mind, he spoke first. “It’s a bit unconventional, I know, but perhaps you’ll permit me to introduce myself? Under the circumstances.”

Sally bit her lip, looking at the two men seated across from her, sprawled dozing in the afternoon heat. On the far side of the gentleman next to her, another woman stared haughtily out the window, her stylish hat, a pretty confection of feathers and lace, perched on a mass of elaborately arranged golden hair. Sally had gotten the impression that the man next to her was traveling with the woman, and that was intimidating, too. Sally reckoned that the woman’s dress, with all its fancy tucks and frills, probably cost more than everything Sally had ever owned, put together. She’d been amazed when Jim sent the money for her to take the stage west. He must be doing well, she thought. Maybe someday she’d have a dress like that. But the man was waiting, expecting some response, and it would’ve seemed rude to ignore him. She smiled a little, and nodded.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, she noticed, when he smiled at her. “Constantine,” he said, “Josef Constantine, at your service.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she answered. “My name is Sally—I mean, Mrs. Jim Watkins.”

“A newlywed, I’ll wager.”

She nodded, embarrassed.

“And Sally—is a nickname for Sarah, am I right? A beautiful name.”

Something in his brown eyes was distracting her from her physical miseries. She nodded again. “Yes, but—“

“But you prefer Mrs. Watkins. I quite understand. We must preserve what dignity we can, in these trying times.”

She wondered if he was laughing at her. “Are these trying times for you, Mr. Constantine?”

He stole a quick look at the well-dressed blonde on his other side. “They may yet be,” he said, somewhat cryptically. “The size of this continent had been unexpected.”

“I--I don’t understand.”

“The journey from Saint Louis has been very long,” he said. “And I find the sun—unpleasant.”

Sally looked out her window. The afternoon sun was slanting in, and she remembered how Mr. Constantine had been muffled against the light earlier. There certainly wasn’t much to see just then, nor had there been since Sally had boarded the stage in Dodge City. The barren plains of western Kansas were broken only by the line of cottonwoods along the riverbed of the Arkansas River, off in the distance.

Nevertheless, she hated to close the shade. It helped create the illusion of space she needed to steady her rebellious stomach against the constant motion of the stagecoach. But she didn’t want to be discourteous to Mr. Constantine, when he’d been so polite. She took a last deep breath and pulled down the shade, then folded her hands again in her lap, focusing on them. Next to her, she heard a soft sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Mrs. Watkins,” Josef said. She didn’t look at him, but she nodded.

Just then, the stage to a particularly hard jolt, and the well-dressed woman let out a little shriek.

“Josef,” she complained, “how long do we have to put up with this?”

“Offhand, Iris, my dear,” Josef replied, “I’d say until we get there.”
Iris put a graceful gloved hand up to her hair, and to Sally, the gesture seemed oddly calculated, although she had no idea what was going on. Meanwhile, Iris was fiddling with the wrist of her glove, and Sally thought she caught sight of some curious red marks on her skin. “I’m being shaken to pieces in this horrible conveyance. I thought the train was bad enough, but this! I’m choking on the dust, and what it’s doing to my hair, my skin….”

“Miss Beaumont.” Josef’s smile was angry, sharp-edged as a scythe, and Sally felt an unaccountable chill sweeping down her spine. “Your concerns are noted. You need not elaborate further.”

She subsided, but Sally noticed her slender, well-shod foot tapping angrily for a long time. And when, near sunset, the stage stopped inside the walls of a mud-brick way station, Miss Beaumont’s displeasure was not allayed, despite the pretty cottonwoods that shaded the rough building. Sally was just happy to be out of the stage, and the compound looked not unlike the farmstead where she’d always lived.

She almost stumbled on the doorstep, on her way into the station. The windows were shuttered and barred, and the light from the fire place and one oil lamp was not sufficient to illuminate the interior. The dinner on offer was hard, stale bread, tasteless beans, and a thick stew of salt pork and potatoes seasoned with green chilies. Sally ate, knowing she needed sustenance, forcing down the food that lay like a stone in her gut.

She noticed, however, that Miss Beaumont barely picked at her food, despite the urgings of her companion. Mr. Constantine, on the other hand, touched no food, merely sipping slowly from a tumbler of whiskey.

The other passengers were quiet, shoveling down their beans and stew, and then settling back to light little black cigars that almost covered the general smell of the room. The only incident of the meal occurred when the stage guard stumbled in carrying a half-empty bottle, roaring for food.

“Stew’s on the fire,” the stationmaster grunted, and reached out to cuff the silent Mexican woman tending the pot. “Get Weston a bowl, Juanita.” She dodged his hand, her expression never changing, and pulled another earthenware bowl from the stack, to ladle it full of the concoction.

“Don’t she ever cook anything but that damn chili stew?” the guard slurred.

“You like it well enough when you’re sober, Slade,” the driver replied from his seat by the fire. He took a long draw on his pipe. “And if you don’t lay off the booze, you won’t be fit to crawl on the box tomorrow.”

“Go to hell, you sorry son of a—“

“Excuse me.” Mr. Constantine rose, his tall form immediately dominating the room. “I’ll ask you to watch your language in front of the ladies.”

Weston sneered, his faded blue eyes lighting up at the prospect of a fight. “Ladies? All I see here are a farm girl and your fancy woman. I don’t calculate either of them are what you’d call ladies.”

Sally heard Iris gasp in indignation. Josef went very still, and she got the oddest feeling that a chill wind of power was flowing from him. She braced herself for the roar of anger that was sure to follow. Yet when he spoke his voice was quiet. “And I believe your calculations are in error, Mr. Weston.” He paused to draw in a deep breath, and Sally saw his nostrils flare, almost as though he were drinking in Weston’s scent, reading it. Then he narrowed his eyes. “I’m prepared to make certain allowances for your apparent state of intoxication—but you will apologize to Mrs. Watkins and Miss Beaumont for your offensive remarks.”

Weston didn’t answer at once, and the standoff continued, the two men staring each other down in the dull light of the oil lamp. They were much the same height, and if Josef Constantine had the advantage of broader shoulders and a more solid build beneath the fine suit he wore, Slade Weston had a darker, more deadly air about him. He had the look of a man who’d made his living with his gun and his wits for a good portion of his thirty-odd years. Still, as they locked eyes, Contantine was visibly more relaxed than Weston, and the scruffy guard seemed to grow more tense as the long seconds ticked by. Somehow, Sally wasn’t surprised when Weston broke away first, with a muttered curse.

“All right, all right, it ain’t worth fighting over,” he said grudgingly. “Not with the likes of some tinhorn dude, anyway.” Then he seemed to recall that he was supposed to be drunk, and raised his bottle to his mouth for a swig, although Sally noted he actually drank very little. “My apologies to all the ladies present.” And he flung out of the room, colliding heavily with the doorframe as he went.

Josef turned to the stationmaster and the driver. “I trust your Mr. Weston is more courageous as a guard than he is off duty,” he remarked.

The driver shrugged. “You got me, mister. He only signed on a couple of weeks ago, and we ain’t run into any problems. But I ain’t had no trouble out of him before.”

The stationmaster belched gently and rose from his dinner. “Slade’s come through here a few times,” he allowed. “He’s all right, just a little hot-headed.” He paused, scratching at one hairy ear with a thick forefinger. “I’d watch your back with him, though. He’s damn fast with that pistol of his.”

“Noted,” Josef replied drily. “And he should watch his back with me, as well. He might find me more of an opponent that he thinks.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” There was an awkward pause, then the stationmaster spoke up again. “You folks’ll be wanting to know where to bunk down. Rooms’re upstairs. The two women can take the one on the left, and you three gents can take the one on the right.”

Iris rose gracefully and cast a contemptuous look at Sally. “You don’t mean to say that now I’m going to have to share a room? The noisome stench of that place in Dodge City was bad enough, but at least I had my own room. Josef, I won’t hear of this.”

Josef made a quelling gesture. “Iris, be still.” He turned to the stationmaster. “You have only two guest rooms?”

The man shrugged unapologetically. “We had a hard winter last year. Snow caved in the roof on the back two rooms, and I just never got round to fixing it. Most folks don’t complain about sharing, long as they’ve got a bed.”

“I see.” He turned and looked at the fuming blonde. “You understand the situation, my dear?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I still don’t like it, Josef.”

“Indeed. Perhaps we should discuss this further, outside?” He took hold of her wrist, capturing it easily, his thumb caressing the skin on the inside of it, and her demeanor changed instantly. He gave her a smile of sweet complicity.

“Of course, Josef.”

“I wouldn’t stray outside the gate,” the stationmaster interjected. “It ain’t safe out there.”

Josef pivoted to give him a sharp look. “How so?” he asked.

“Wolves and other varmints. Some of ‘em run on four legs, some on two.”

The stage driver laughed. “We don’t keep a guard on the stage just for me to have somebody to talk to, you know.”

Josef looked thoughtful. “Thank you for the information,” he said. “I’ll bear it in mind. Now, Miss Beaumont, if you would accompany me?” And he led the sulky young woman out into the dark.

Sally finished the last of her stew, pondering what she’d seen. It had been almost as good as some of the story papers her brother brought home on the rare occasions when he was able to spare a few pennies when he went to town. Those were always full of bandits and gunslingers, gamblers and beautiful, mysterious ladies. She rather hoped Mr. Constantine was a gambler. She could picture those strong slender fingers toying with a deck of cards. Or with a beautiful, mysterious woman. She wondered what he was doing out in the compound yard with Miss Beaumont, even now, and sternly damped down the thoughts. It wasn’t proper for her to speculate, even if she was a married woman now, and knew all about such things.

She smiled to herself and put a hand to her belly, under the table. Yes, she knew about such things now.

And that reminded her, she’d better take a last trip out to the necessary before she went up to bed. From the looks of things down here, she couldn’t count on a chamber pot upstairs She stood and slipped her short cloak around her shoulders again, but decided she could risk going out bareheaded for those few steps.

By the time she was ready to return to the station, her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and as she rounded a corner, she caught sight of Mr. Constantine and Miss Beaumont, standing close together in a secluded corner. He held her arm, the sleeve pushed back from her pale wrist, and his head was bent down over it. He seemed to be kissing the soft skin there, while he supported her with his other arm. Sally could see the woman’s head was leaned back, her expression clearly visible in the dim moonlight. Some of the romances she’d read had spoken of women swooning in ecstasy, and Sally thought whatever it meant, that it must look a great deal like what she was seeing now. She watched, transfixed, as Mr. Constantine raised his head and turned Miss Beaumont deftly to rest against his broad chest, inclining his head to whisper in her ear.

Sally turned her away, knowing it was wrong for her to spy on something so intimate between those two.

The room was tiny, with barely enough space for the bed, and she wondered what the oh-so-particular Miss Beaumont would think when she realized she was sharing not just a room, but a bed, as well. Sally had undressed and slipped between the rough, sheets of the bed before Iris came in for the night, and she pretended to be asleep while the other woman prepared for bed.

But later in the night, as she turned, seeking a more comfortable position, the light of the setting moon, streaming in through the window, illuminated the outflung wrist of her bedmate. The lace of the sleeve of Iris’s nightgown had fallen back, and Sally could see the stark black marks of fresh wounds on the skin. She could have sworn in that moment that Miss Beaumont appeared to have been bitten by some fanged, savage beast.

Link to Chapter 2

[francis]

Awww, this is great. Telling Josef's history from the POV of some ordinary girl who has no clue. But Iris is really careless here. She should have covered up more. She is very observant but rather shy. What if Sally is of the nosy type? Will she say something?
I really want to know more about this, what Josef is doing there in the first place, if the wolves with four or two legs will pose a problem, why the guard pretended to be drunk and where Josef will lodge without drawing attention. He will need to rest eventually, with the sun in his face the whole day. And only one freshie - she might not be enough to sustain him for the whole trip.
I'm hooked.

[cassysj]

Ohhh more historical Josef. Also, a period in history I in particular like. I wonder if Slade is someone we've met in more modern times.

I love this part

“Miss Beaumont.” Josef’s smile was angry, sharp-edged as a scythe, and Sally felt an unaccountable chill sweeping down her spine. “Your concerns are noted. You need not elaborate further.”

I also love have Josef discusses things.

[francis]

I wonder if Slade is someone we've met in more modern times.

I didn't even pick up on the name. Bad fan...

[RangerCM]

I opened this expecting to enjoy a wonderful new one-shot about my favorite vamp from one of my favorite authors, only to be greeted by the most wonderful, fantastic, amazing line in the world.......Chapter 1......!!! Had to wipe happy tears out of my eyes as I read.

[Lilly]

Woo hoo!!! Josef and Slade!!

I've been waiting forever for this story to be told!!!

[eris]

Yee Haw, Cowgirl.



(Yay, some backstory on Slade)

[cassysj]

By the way, I'm so in the right frame of mind for this kind of story. I was going on vacation this month to California that was cancelled at 10P last night and California has turned into Texas.

Do not fear friends, I actually know my geography and know California is more west than Texas, Texas just feels more western to me than Burbank.

[eris]

By the way, I'm so in the right frame of mind for this kind of story. I was going on vacation this month to California that was cancelled at 10P last night and California has turned into Texas.

Do not fear friends, I actually know my geography and know California is more west than Texas, Texas just feels more western to me than Burbank.

Geography is irrelevant. You don't get more Western than Texas. Ever. It's a law.

Go to Fort Worth, the city that literally spun itself on an axis. There are huge wide roads that run north and south from the Stockyards that were built for cattle drives, and then when drives died out, the roads ran east and west in narrower strips.

[Josefismysire]

I am doing the happy happy joy joy dance that Lucky is writing more historical Josef!!

I can never get enough of your writing and am eagerly awaiting more more more...can't wait to see where this story leads!!

And, I recognized Slade right away ... it remains to be seen if he is mortal or not?

[PNWgal]

Geography is irrelevant. You don't get more Western than Texas. Ever. It's a law.

Texans. If I was any more west, I'd be standing in salt water, Eris.

It's no secret I'm not big on historical fic, but one of my favorite periods in history was The Wild West - gobbled up every Louis L'Amour book I could get my hands on as a kid. Sooooo...a Lucky fic that's based in the Wild West? I gobbled this up.

A cool and distinguished Josef and a glimpse into Slade's past. How could this NOT be good?

[librarian_7]

Aw, you guys...thanks. Yup, the first meeting of Josef and Slade...if things go as planned, this stagecoach ride is about to get a lot less tame.

And cassy, hon, if you're coming to TX, and anywhere near my neck of the woods, I'd love to see you!

Lucky

[mitzie]

Great start! I'm hooked already!! So now we get the scoop on Slade. I love Sally and I can't stand Iris; and Josef I just love, love, love!!!! Can't wait for more...

mitzie

[librarian_7]

Don't be shy, mitzie, tell me what you really think! (I'm just kidding, sweetie...I always love to see your comments!)

And I'm busy, I promise! with chapter 2.

Lucky

[MoonShadow]

oh HAPPY DANCE!!!!!

I caught the Slade reference immediately. Come on Lucky keep it comin!