Lady Luck (Rico x OC)
Rico couldn’t decide if Lady Luck loved him or hated his guts. In three days, he’d gone from a bounty hunter so famous that towns went quiet to watch as he passed by, to a caged bird waiting to be shipped off to some godforsaken, shithole prison to break his back breaking rocks and laying rail. Yet fortune was nice enough to through him a bone. Quite literally. He wasn’t swinging like his old boss and his nephews. He’d even had enough cash on his person from the last bounty and his cut from Slim’s profits to bribe a deputy to get Chug Water’s local dentist Dr. Dignpul, to replace and repair seven fucking teeth. Even now they still felt off in his mouth, jaw almost as sore as his pride. Luckier still that the poor bastard’s dental picks had fit nicely into the lock of his cell door. He’d hopped into the saddle of the first horse he saw (an old working nag he’d have never wasted time on otherwise) and taken off, desperate for the county line. Not that it would do him much good. As soon as they saw he was gone he knew they’d get to work on wanted posters and it would only get worse the longer he was free. His reputation was a blessing and a curse. It might keep other bounty hunters off his tail for a little while, but it would make him easier to spot. His best chance was to cash in with his fellow outlaws and get the hell out of dodge before the storm. It was unfortunate; he’d had a nice thing going. Taking bribes from outlaws to stay off their trail or to help cover it up, collecting bounties on the ones that fell short on their payments.
It certainly didn’t help that his resources were already being exhausted. Sheriff Brown hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that Slim was one of the only big names left, at least around there. Every signpost, cactus, and tree he passed that was usually covered in posters was picked clean, leaving nothing but rusting nails and weather worn paper. If he were a lawman, that may have been it for him. But bounty hunters had no set jurisdictions. Heading West only a little ways had him crossing the border from Wyoming into Utah; probably for the best anyway but nowhere near far enough to rest easy. He didn’t dare risk Salt Lake City but turned South. If it came to it, he didn’t want to have to haul ass to reach Mexico. Better to be close already. The area wasn’t unfamiliar but it was a different kind of hot that had his poor mount foamy from sweat and his own soaking his bandana. It was dry. It was hostile. It was enough to make a man go mad from the heat. But Lady Luck wasn’t done with him just yet. Not by a longshot. It was around noon when he’d spotted the first wanted poster since leaving Chug Water. He was luckier still, that the fugitive in question was worth $600, dead or alive. A hefty sum he desperately needed. He’d stopped in a barely populated town for intel, lucky again that word of his…situation, hadn’t reached the laws here yet. But his reputation as a bounty hunter had. They were more than happy, eager even, to point him in the right direction and loan him a better horse. He’d sold the nag for a rifle and pistol to replace the ones he’d lost. He didn’t even think he’d need them.
The girlie on the poster was just that. The local laws back in Purgatory Creek had listed off all sorts of nonsense about Miss Katherine Stone, that she’d come out here from a war torn, poorly reconstructed South about twelve years ago, with her Ma who’d gone mail order bride for a nasty old sonbitch a couple counties over. Apparently Katie started going by Katherine when she was fourteen after a gut shot to her stepdaddy for beating on her Ma and never looked back toward delicate nor docile. From then on she’d been all over the four corner states and Nevada, charged with everything from murder, robbery, and extortion to moonshining, smuggling…and apparently public indecency. Still, she’d kept in touch with her Ma. He’d started there. The old cabin had been sitting empty after Mrs. Stone, then Keaton had been put in the ground. He was unlucky enough to have missed her by weeks. Lucky enough to find an old map while poking through the dead woman’s things, luckier still that there was a little mark. Anyone else might think it was a lose ink drop from when it was made. But not him. No, it was too perfect. In too perfect a spot, right at the end of a place called Viper’s Canyon. It was there he decided, he would find his quarry, sitting pretty and waiting to pay him off or get herself hogtied on the back of his horse.
The twisting walls of the canyon were high, cracks in the rock hiding deep caves in the darkness. A crawling river cut through the canyon floor, leaving the dirt green from vegetation desperate for the water. From above, it did look an awful lot like a serpent, but as pretty as it was the trees at the bottom obscured his view; it simply wouldn’t be possible to get a clean shot from there, leaving him to begrudgingly give up the high ground advantage. Unlucky yet again. If Fortune decided to change her mind again, he wouldn’t have to further exhaust himself fighting this girl. His reputation was unparallel. His figure was imposing. His aim was devastating. But he was being worn down bit by bit. He’d never been much of a gambling man, much more keen on keeping his earnings than squandering them on games of chance, but his poker face was as good as any. His glare cold as ice. It was a boy leaning up against a tree who spotted him first as he walked up on the camp. It was all he could call him. The kid looked barely fifteen, all pock faced and red haired. He’d scrambled to his feet, yelling out at seeing the long formidable shadow of the bounty hunter, a low caliber revolver shaking in his hand. He watched about twelve other men stand and draw, each rough looking and devilish. Fucking laws back in town never mentioned a posse…Before he could draw, loud shot rang out, clear and echoing off the canyon walls. For a moment he thought the kid had actually fired at him, but the boy had reeled around to look behind him. Infront of a tent deep set in the little camp, sat his quarry, all sun blonded and blue eyed, sweet looking if not for the bandolier strapped across her chest and the pistol smoking toward the sky, a set of faded tarot cards delt out onto a crate in front of her.
“What in God’s name are you fussin’ about new blood?” She stood, stalking toward the teenager, Southern twang lilting her voice. Her eyes flashed between him and the interloper, clearly unimpressed. An ill boding look for his luck.
“B-Boss! That’s fucking Rico! He-“
She clicked her tongue holding up a finger. “Is no more a danger to us than you are holding your gun like that, for fuck’s sake.” She pried the revolver from the boy’s hand, flicking it to the side and emptying the chambers, the bullets clattering to the ground. “I have no use for liabilities. Learn or leave.” Pushing the gun back into his hands, she turned with a little smile, her hold on her own arm steady at her side, aimed now toward the dirt. “I do apologize for that little display. Jeb here is still learning the tools of the trade. Now. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to take you in.”
“Naturally. Your reputation among us thieves precedes you Mr. Bounty Hunter. I’ve heard all about your little side hustles. Though I can’t say I’m all too impressed. Frankly I think it’s rather cowardly of you to play nice with the laws. Afterall. They’d be just as happy to keep their money if you don’t come back.”
“I’m just as happy to take it. From one hand, or another.” He drew his pistol, pulling back the trigger with a deafening click. It wasn’t personal. Strictly business. He wasn’t above shooting a lady if it meant saving his hide.
“Oh ho! There it is. There’s the killer I’ve heard about. How many poor bastards have you dragged off to a hanging rope because they didn’t have the cash to pay you off?”
“My fair share. And happy to again.”
“It seems an awful waste of talent.”
“I make do.”
“I think you should try a little ambition on for size.” Her smile stretched into a smirk eerily close to the one plastered on the wanted poster in his saddlebag.
“You can’t actually be-“
“Not another word from you!” Those eyes were steel, her melodious drawl taking on a sharp twang in her irritation. For someone who seemed happy to judge him for playing both sides she sure was quick to switch between sweetheart and snarling, the latter melting away as Jeb curled in on himself under her glare. Rico wasn’t nearly as fazed. Slim had been similar, thinking himself distinguished and gentlemanly despite the wicked temper that lay just beneath the surface. It was a kind of inner crazy that lived behind the eyes; the kind that could get you a payday or a bullet depending on if the crazy was turned on you or not. She cleared her throat. “I’ll even make it easy for you Since you found us here this spot isn’t safe anymore. I can’t exactly trust you not to run your mouth if I let you go. So, here’s what I suggest. You help me cover up the tracks that led you here; I’ll pay you for that. Then, when that’s good and done, join us. You might even find you like this side of the law. I can promise you it's a lot more money and a lot more fun. You look like you could use some.” Whether she meant money or fun, he didn’t know.
“Boss-“
A second shot rang out, just as clear as the first, this one sending a red mist across the dust what was left of Jedediah Orner’s face was likewise, covered in blood, dropping fast into the dirt. Katherine arched a brow, the unimpressed look overtaken by intrigue, though she was seemingly unconcerned by the gun pointed in her direction, even if the bullet had just missed her ear. The kind of confidence only the crazy possessed. “Looks like you have an opening.”
“It would seem so…Welcome to the Diamondbacks, Rico. I look forward to watching you work.” It seemed then she was comfortable enough to turn her back on him. For a moment…a moment, he thought about it. It would take less than a second to put another bullet in the back of her head. But he didn’t have enough shots loaded to clear out the rest of her gang without having to stop to reload. That would get him killed. A payday or a bullet. It was an easy choice to make. “Jasper. Montgomery. Get rid of the kid. I don’t want the corpse fouling the water.” Two men quickly holstered and hustled to haul off the boy’s remains, the rest slowly following suit to return to their routines. It was to be expected. Now that he had their…his boss’s seal of approval. What he didn’t expect was for Stone to unhitch a stallion from one of the trees, swing herself up into the saddle with ease. The black beast was darker than pitch, but his mane and tail were a pale gunmetal gray. She nudged the horse into a lazy trot, spurs just barely tapping into his flanks, pulling him to a halt at Rico’s side. “I hope you didn’t expect me to let you go cover our tracks by yourself?” She extended a hand out to him, rolling her eyes at his skeptical look. “Don’t worry. Infidel can carry us both until we get to wherever you left the horse you rode in on.”
It was almost ironic, that he’d ended up on the back of her horse rather than the other way around; sitting snug against her back arms around a corseted waist like he were some damsel, her leather coat doing little to separate her curvy figure from his towering one . He had surprised himself when he took her hand, pulling himself up behind her. Her hand was small in his, kept soft under leather riding gloves but firm and sure. The kind of grip only the confident truly had; crazy or not, Kate Stone was completely confident about their new arrangement, as if she’d known all along that his bullet would never hit her, that his hands wouldn’t strangle, that he would end up at her back. Lady Luck was fickle. Kind enough to spare his life. He didn’t dare test her patience.