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The Ups and Downs of Being Wanted	By : Johnny-Topside Category: +M through R > Red Dead Redemption Views: 205 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Red Dead Redemption video game series. I do not profit from this work or from any of these characters

Chapter List
- 1-Boy Howdy
- 2-Mama's Been Telling Stories
- 1
- 2
The Ups And Downs Of Being Wanted
Chapter 1: Boy Howdy

Johnny Ruiz was better known for his looks than his brains. His reputation for gun-slinging was also yet to be established.

The Boy hadn’t really cared. He just wanted warm bodies that could shoot a gun and maybe take a few errant bullets that might get sent his way by lawmen, zealous bounty hunters, or heaven forbid, the “EYE-TALIANS”. Maybe if the Boy had been less in a rush to leave the country and pickier about who he hired they’d be faring better. Come to think of it, if Johnny hadn’t signed on he was absolutely certain he'd be in an overall better situation.

It was by Lake Isabella just after sunrise when the shooting began. From the moment the bullets started flying to the time Johnny found relative safety behind a large stump, a good third of the gang were wiped out. The lucky ones that escaped the initial hail of gunfire were those smart and fast enough to find cover. In other words, nature’s cowards. At this rate Johnny wouldn’t have bet money on seeing noon, let alone Canada.

Now here was the Boy. Twenty-odd with the countenance and manner of a sour faced brat, and to hear him tell it, a legend in the making, a criminal mastermind, and an expert gunfighter.

The “criminal mastermind” busied himself flipping off another three shots and cursing up a storm that’d make sailors blush before ducking back behind his tree. It wasn’t the most inspiring leadership, but all things considered, Johnny couldn’t say he’d have done better. He'd fired off eight shots since the shooting started, much in the way that castaways put letters in bottles. There wasn't much chance they were going to find another breathing soul but for the grace of God.

As if to put a point on it the red figure unloaded where Johnny’s head had been while running from one tree to another. “Red” didn’t seem to mind all the attention he was getting and went about his killing business weathering gunfire like it was rain. Red must have been going almost full speed and he still made those shots Johnny reflected, even as splinters flew and ricochets whined. He couldn't imagine accounting for that kind of recoil even at a jog. Johnny made the life decision to not poke his head out again, even for a quick peek.

Blind firing didn’t even make the man in red flinch. He had a knack for doing something unexpected each time he popped out, all while plugging any of the Boy’s compadres who tried to get a bead. The gang had the bright idea to try and count his bullets and advance on him while he was reloading. Shots cracked out from the hills from at least two guns and the Boy’s men flew back, soaking snow with their blood.

Johnny had made buddies with Dan on the trail. He seemed like the kind of guy Johnny would run with again. Dan never faltered but kept right on charging. That’s when Red popped out and vaporized his face with a sawed off shotgun from under his coat.

They’d started more than twenty strong. Now it was just Johnny, the Boy, and three others. A rifle from the hills picked off one with a gobbling scream and then they were four. None of the attackers seemed to be trying hard to shoot the Boy so the gang bunched up near him, more for safety’s sake than any obligation to their fearless leader. The red figure covered a few more trees in a mad dash, and then made a try for the Boy’s legs with the shotgun.

The boy-man yelped, beating furiously at his torn up pants leg. Rivulets of blood coursed down his ankle from a couple places where the pellets had embedded themselves. The Boy flipped an angry shot at where Red had just been and then got behind another of his men, leaning on his shoulder and breathing heavily.

“You.” He patted the man’s shoulder good-naturedly, in contrast with his blood filled imp’s grin.

“You get out there, circle around and shoot that paprika painted piece of mule shit!”

He gestured with his shooter at the blur as it continued flanking them, then the eastern hills.

Johnny reconsidered if this was a plan he might want to be part of. The only place anybody with half a brain was circling was the fuck out of here. There were guns trained on them from the west. Red was coming at them like a story book devil from the north far as he could tell, and the iced over lake was between them and the south. He didn’t know about the other hills yet, but if there were guns there he wouldn’t live to. The Boy popped out, fanning his gun, the red figure dove for cover, and the Boy’s man ran hard.

Shots rang from the hills, but the man kept running. He covered what seemed like an impossible stretch in a few seconds time. Just as it seemed he might make it a shot clipped him in the leg and the man sank to his knees. Then another shot rang out, leaving morning sunlight streaming through the hole in his chest.

“You whore-sons!” The Boy screeched at the hills, and then his gaze fell on Johnny and his fellow lackey.

“You two don’t look like you’re doing too much out here, huh? Nobody shot from those other hills, so I say that’s our best bet. We’re not going to win this jerking each other off here so why don’t we all make a run for it?”

It was as close to an authentic psychic experience as he’d ever had, because Johnny felt like he’d read the Boy's mind. They were probably penned in. The only way out for the Boy was the same plan he’d had all along. Throw a bunch of raw meat behind him and keep running. Whoever these were, they were trying to take the Boy alive. They’d shoot at him last, or go for his legs again.

Johnny wasn’t the only one who caught on because the other gang member immediately turned and put a bullet into the Boy’s hip.

“Here’s the Boy, right here, he’s the one you want! I barely rode with him!” The man screamed into the woods.

The Boy sank to his side, spitting curses through his teeth, managed to draw, missed, and put the second shot through the other man’s lungs. The man stumbled and the Boy had enough time for a victorious sneer before his head snapped back and his eyes opened wide in dumb surprise. Blood poured into his eye from the hole his patsy had managed to drill right above it before dying himself.

Johnny saw Red was maybe 10 yards away, and now he came out behind his tree, guns drawn and swiveling for targets. He walked slowly and deliberately towards him. Apparently he was none too worried about any possible return fire from Johnny. Johnny tossed his six shooter into the snow, then slowly waved both hands to show they were empty. He was fully aware they might get blown off.

“I surrender! I tossed my guns!” He yelled, closing his eyes and praying to a God he hadn’t talked to in some years.

“You keep those hands out just like that and step out where I can see you. Move funny and you’re dead.”

Johnny had expected Red’s voice to be deep and gravelly, the kind of voice you’d expect of someone who chewed iron nails. Instead, it was strangely soft but no less threatening. Johnny inched out, a step at a time, taking great care not to let his hands move. Johnny could clearly see the Schofield and both barrels of the shotgun aimed at him.

With a half certainty he was going to die, Johnny still found it in himself to be disappointed in the man. “Red” had taken on a supernatural quality in Johnny’s mind. Now here he stood looking like any of the gang could have slapped him around if they’d just caught him without the guns.

Red was shorter than him and from what Johnny could see, very young looking. His coat was a bleached and faded maroon, open against the cold to allow better access to his guns no doubt, revealing a lean frame. The black hat cast shadow over his eyes and the upturned collar hid the better part of his features. Red cast a glance back at the bloodied Boy, then leveled the shotgun at Johnny’s face.

“Face down on the ground. Hands behind your melon. I want you licking snow, don’t you even breath wrong."

Johnny prostrated himself and felt his hands jerked back and a length of rope tied around them, followed by his ankles in case he got any ideas of vacating. Red was examining the Boy’s corpse, but it was tough to see what was going on, Johnny resting on his chin as he was.

“Shit. Shit!” Red hissed, poking at the head. There was the crunch of boots on the snow nearby.

“Dead?” A deep voice asked.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I didn’t shoot him, his pal there did. They were panicking. Rats eating each other’s tails.”

“He was the whole reason we went after these fools!” Said a third voice. “Be lucky if we get two hundred now for his carcass. What a balls up!”

“You want to come down next time and see if you can do better?”

“Can’t do any worse.” A deep sigh, then someone hawking and spitting. Johnny heard the crackle of snow near his head.

“What about this saddle bump? Everybody else is dead. Do we make it a set, or you want to turn him in breathing?“

“Let’s see if he’s anybody first. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Johnny froze as the boots crunched up and then pushed him over by his shoulder. A big sandy bearded bastard and an older grizzled man grinned down at him, holding rifles long enough to run flags up. Red stood between them, looking diminutive yet undeniably in charge. None of them wore gold or silver stars on their shirts.

Red grabbed a handful of Johnny’s collar then cocked his gun and held it a few inches away from his groin. On closer inspection Johnny could make out the pitiless eyes and small mouth. A face that didn’t look like it had one whisker on it.

“What’s your name? If I find out you’re lying to us I’ll see how much bounce I get out of your balls when I blow them off.”

At this point, he didn’t know which answer was more or less likely to make him sing castrato, so he closed his eyes and committed himself to oblivion.

“Johnny Ruiz.”

There was long silence, and Johnny ventured a peek. The two men were looking at him with furrowed brows and Red was looking like he'd just babbled Latin.

“Who did you say you were? Say it again slow for me.”

“Johnny. Ruiz. Johnny Ruiz. Out of Cholla Springs.” He was nobody, so he thought maybe they were just fucking with him before they put a bullet in his skull. Still, Red was looking at him now with a look he couldn't quite place, head cocked to the side almost in wonder.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Don Juan Johnny would you?”

It wasn’t an act. He didn’t know why or how, but they'd heard of him.

“I didn’t earn that nickname. Look, I’ve never done any woman wrong except for a little polite robbery, I don't know how that all started. But yeah, I’ve been called that a few times.”

The two men behind Red starting laughing, guffaws echoing over the icy lake and wood. The big man smacked Red on the shoulder, tears in his eyes and Red’s gun jerked in response and put a bullet a few inches to Johnny's left.

“Jesus Christ don’t!” Johnny yelped, squirming in his bounds and this only made the two men laugh harder in great gales.

“Oh that could have been real bad for both of you!”

“You keep playing rough with your toy there you’re liable to break him Hanna.”

“Shut it.” Red, or Hanna, grit, turning the revolver around and whipped the two on their shoulders with the handle before turning the gun back on Johnny. “You think I won’t? I don’t even care!”

“Hey, don’t go getting upset! I was just joking. We’re all friends here. You don’t have to kill him to prove something to me. Jesus Hanna." The old man rubbed his sore shoulder. "Do whatever you want with him, I don’t even need the bounty. I figure God must be trying to tell you something here. What are the odds, right?”

“Why don’t you go clean some pockets instead of jawing? Bring the wagons down, we’ll pile them in and see what this lot brings. As for you Don Juan, let’s see what you got.”

The two companions went through the dignified process of looting the corpses. Once or twice a shot rang out, somebody moving or twitching maybe. Meanwhile, Johnny felt slender fingers pat him down and search his pockets, coming back with four dollars and thirty seven cents and a pack of smokes. The Boy had promised the gang a cut of whatever valuables they came across but there’d been few travelers on the road and Johnny was bad at cards.

"Hanna" for his part took off his hat and wiped his forehead. He shook his hair out, then lit up, and Johnny observed that just like that, he was a she.

She was tan, black hair braided into a cable in back, with dark shadows under her chestnut eyes. She had full black eyebrows and a brow that suggested violence was imminent. She took a puff on one of Johnny’s cigarettes and gave him a smile that still managed to seem mean but settled her gender for him.

“You’re a lady.” He breathed in disbelief.

“Kind of you to notice. Hurt your ego a bit?" She contemplated the tip of the cigarette. "Well Don Juan, I’ll give you a choice, open minded as I am to the spiritual and destiny and such. You can ride baggage with me while I haul your sorry ass back to civilization for whatever money you’ll fetch. Or you can ride with your friends there.” She gestured with the cigarette.

The other bounty hunters were heaping Johnny’s buddies, or more accurately, bodies, in the back of their bounty wagon. The piles looked to be three men wide and high now, with the Boy having his place of honor on top.

“Be honest, you should probably ride with me. Gets real cold back there, especially at night. Bodies won't do you much good for warmth. Probably wouldn’t be good for the mind either. Course, I could just ventilate you right now if you really want. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. You won’t fetch as much dead, but less work for everybody. What say?”

“When you put it that way," Johnny said carefully, "I think I'd be delighted to be your baggage ma'am.”

“Well that’s good then. I knew you weren’t just a pretty face.”

She put the cigarette out on his belt buckle, spilling hot ash on his crotch and causing him to squirm and she just laughed.

It warmed a bit as they headed south. The fields of snow would cease eventually and the path narrow as they descended into the valleys. Right now they were in the shadow of Mount Hagen. The trail was familiar to Johnny as he'd come up this way with the Boy, but the ride was quite a bit less enjoyable this time. He was slung over the back of Hanna's horse, bound at the wrists and ankles. To say he was not having a good time of it was understating the situation. The gallop of the bounty hunter's horse was almost as disagreeable to his stomach as the meaningful odor he was picking up from the close proximity to it's backside.

As for the rider herself, she was taciturn, answering his attempts at conversation in monosyllable grunts. Sometimes she would look back at him, wearing either that expression of impatient anger or the curiousness one might have seeing a celebrity in person. He wasn't sure which he liked less. After a few hours of this Hanna regarded him with a quizzical look.

"You're pretty quiet. Aren't you going to promise to hang me by that rope when you get loose or call me a cock sucking hag?"

"No. You sound disappointed."

"Nah. Just surprised. That's usually the way when I bring a bounty in. Promises turn to cussin' and spittin' turns to begging."

"Well I don't see the point in any of that. I don't mind telling you I don't want to ever be on the wrong side of your guns again and I don't see how getting on your bad side is going to help me in this situation."

Hanna smiled the smile again, the one that made him think of cigarette burns.

"So Don Juan Johnny's got more than air upstairs, that's real good to know."

"Look I wish you'd stop calling me that. You may as well be calling me shit heel."

"Oh, that your preferred, uh, sobriquet?" She spat out the word like a live, wriggling worm. "Shit heel Johnny? There's gotta be alot of those already. You oughta stick with Don Juan. It's classier."

"I don't know how that got started or by who but I never done whatever you're thinking I did. The worst I ever did was robbing and rustling, same as half the men out here."

"Ever kill anybody?" She asked, a little too brightly for his comfort.

Johnny thought a moment. He couldn't say he was enjoying this conversation exactly but it beat the heavy silence and dread.

"Two." He admitted hesitantly. "Maybe. It was another gang. It was them or me. Wasn't anything personal."

"Uh huh." Hanna turned back around, regarding the trail, and there was nothing for awhile but the clop of hooves and jingle of spurs. She glanced back.

"Men lie about the number of times they've killed the way they lie about the number of women they bed. You ever notice that? I'll bet they were looking somewhere else and you took the shot right? That the way it went?"

"Never been great with a gun." Johnny admitted. "I’m not proud of it or anything, the gang was unloading on them and I sent a few bullets their way. Be honest I'm not sure I actually hit either one. I guess it'd be more impressive if I holed them the way you do, but I wasn't trying to impress anyone."

Hanna slapped her knee, and her grin finally seemed to have some genuine mirth in it.

"Ten cent wisdom from the horse's rear and I'm getting it for free. How's someone like you wind up with a dumb shit like the Boy?"

It merited review considering where he found himself, Johnny had to admit. The Boy’s method of staying ahead of the law and turning a buck had been simple . Pay patsies a portion of what he’d collected upfront then send them to do the illegal work. How you did in this business was really just a matter of not pushing your luck too much, Johnny reflected. The Boy had sent the wrong people on the wrong job so now he was dead in some meat wagon and Johnny was tied to this bitch's horse and probably going to swing. If she didn't shoot him before then.

"Because I guess when you get down to it I'm a dumb shit too."

Johnny sighed, and Hanna nodded in apparent agreement. He stewed for a bit, at her, at the Boy, at God, and finally at himself before a sharp pain made him squirm.

"I have to piss."

"Well don't let me stop you." Hanna grunted, eyes ahead.

"No, I mean I really need to piss."

"Well I'd suggest you hold it for the sake of your continued good health."

"Where are we going?"

"Where ever I say we go."

"And where's that?"

"A ways. Christ, this must be what having kids is like. What's it matter?"

"Because if you're telling me to hold it and we're going to be there soon then I can try. If you're dragging me across the county then I can't promise anything. I've been up this way and I know there's no settlements out here, why you think we were heading this way?"

"Because God gifted the Boy with a bigger mouth than a brain and a face like a woman's ass."

"I've been holding it for hours. I had coffee this morning, and if I don't go pretty soon, I'm going to piss my pants." She turned and fluttered her eyes at him grotesquely.

"Oh no, the accommodations not to Sir's liking? Too bad."

"It'll soak through and get all over your nice horse. Might even improve the smell back here."

Hanna made what seemed like a fluid motion and there was the cock of a gun and a barrel pointing at his nose.

"How about a bullet Don Juan, would that improve the situation?"

Johnny's balls froze and his guts crawled, but as if totally independent of the rest of him, he heard his mouth keep talking him into the grave.

"Now you of all people ought to know a bullet's likely to lead to lots of piss and shit back here. Just pointing that gun the way you are at me might even do it. Oh, and blood too. It's not like your horse is going to wash itself either."

Her eyes glinted at him from beneath the hat then she made the gun go away as quick as she'd produced it. The horse slowed to an amble, and after a minute, they pulled well off the trail to a snow covered grove.

She hauled him off her horse (she was pretty strong for a little woman), cut the bounds around his ankles and handled him expertly till they got to a cluster of bushes.

She reached down and started fiddling with his britches.

“Hey!” Johnny pulled, and Hanna immediately jerked him back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You said you had to piss, so…”

“Yeah but I’ve always handled my own equipment.”

“I’m not untying you. It’s this or piss yourself. What’s the matter, is Don Juan embarrassed?”

She was right behind him with an arm hooked around his and the other undoing the buttons. Her gloved hand found his member and pulled him out.

“There you go. Get it over with.”

She was very close to him, her head rested on his shoulder, and her slim hand yanked twice to urge him on. Johnny closed his eyes with an effort, tried to forget her breath on his neck and her hand on his cock and especially the hammer of her revolver that was digging into his leg.

“Hurry up!” She nudged him hard. There was nothing he was going to do with his hands tied behind him, so he pushed, but still not even a dribble.

“I can’t go yet.”

“Well why not?”

“Because it’s not decent. It’s…it’s lascivious!”

“Don't you just wish. That how you impress the ladies Johnny, with those big words? Or you just wave this big dick around first and see if a fish up and bites?”

Johnny breathed in what felt like all the air in the vicinity.

“M'aam, I'm sorry for speaking out of turn before. I'm sure you're a lady of the highest standards but I am standing here with my hands tied and your gun against my leg and just trying to take an ordinary every day piss and it's putting alot of undue pressure on me.

“I guess that's my fault right? It’s just another dick to me. I’m not even looking.”

“Gimme a minute to get some flow. I don’t usually have to do this with someone else aiming for me.”

“Well c’mon. C’mon, c’mon. I don’t have all day.”

She yanked again impatiently, as if that would help. He was terrified of her but between her voice urging him and the hand and the situation even being what it was, he felt himself engorge.

“What’s-“

Johnny closed his eyes even tighter.

“Oh.” He wasn’t going to look at her because there was no way that would help him either way but she sounded amused.

“Oh I see how it is. Don’t worry, I can take a compliment. Nice piece of equipment there.”

“I can’t piss through a hardon!” Johnny groaned.

“Guy with a reputation like yours, I didn’t figure you’d be so bashful. What do you need to finish?”

“Just…” He blew out an unsteady breath. “Just don’t say anything. Don’t move your hand no more. And don’t look.”

“And you don’t do anything stupid like trying to make a run for it.”

Hanna tightened her grip on him, but thankfully not down there, and after far too long, he was able to get some relief. She gave Johnny’s member a courtesy shake and then packed him and buttoned him back up.

As they walked back to the horse she suddenly pushed him with both hands. Johnny pitched forward into the snow and lightning fast she was on him and tied his ankles. She turned him over, grinning. For his part Johnny spit snow.

“You’re enjoying torturing me aren’t you?”

“It’s not the worst time I had.” She replied, then mockingly brushed some snow off his shirt.

“Big baby." She said scornfully, and hoisted him back on the horse.

"To answer your question from before, you and I are heading for Strawberry. They’ve got a real nice jail there, you’ll like it."

The day grew warmer as they rode along. Inside Johnny felt his mind churning and his guts freezing.

Somehow, Johnny passed his first night with Hanna despite spending it tied to a tree. Dinner was a hunk of jerky shoved roughly in his face followed by a swig of whiskey. The bounty hunter then laid back against the tree opposite. He couldn’t see her eyes watching him from underneath the brim of her black hat and he couldn’t tell if or when she fell asleep. He was too scared to speak or even move much. Hanna’s hand seemed to twitch every now and again as if it wanted to draw on him.

His poor tired mind wondered if gunfighters might shoot in their sleep the way sleepwalkers sometimes wandered. He couldn’t ever remember a night so long. Between his position and the fear gnawing at his gut Johnny thought he’d never drop off. He managed to catch some sleep before the sun rose, though it couldn’t have been much. Then it was graham crackers and water and a few idle threats from Hanna for breakfast. He’d had better days for sure, but it wasn’t like Johnny had anywhere to go under his own power.

Despite that night from hell the day was looking brighter. After trial and error, they established what Johnny felt was a very equitable system.

Hanna wouldn't hover over him with a gun to his head, lay a hand on his little cowboy, or watch events and make crude remarks. In turn, Johnny was free to do his business, just only in settings where Hanna could effortlessly gun him down if he tried to bolt. Further, he would not complain about the arrangement.

Having reached that milestone Johnny felt he'd reached sufficient rapport with the bounty hunter to attempt to rectify another problem.

"Would you stop calling me Don Juan already? You can call me Johnny, and I'll call you Hanna, or m'aam, or whatever you like."

"Might as well be God to you."

"If that's how you want to be addressed. I'm asking in the spirit of common courtesy you call me by my given name and not that god awful saloon joke."

"If it'll shut you up Johnny."

"Great. Thanks. Of all the things to call me the law must be getting mighty bored with themselves to be coming up with that."

"They didn’t come up with it. You're probably barely worth putting up a wanted poster over." She chuckled, then stopped abruptly.

"Something wrong?"

"No. It's just not as funny as all that."

"Well how come you and your friends seemed to know me so well?"

"We're bounty hunters fool. It's our job to know every bottom feeder with a price on his head."

"Oh yeah? What am I worth?" She said nothing, seemed to get real interested in the trees. Her horse's hooves clopped quietly. "Do you even know?"

"Fifty bucks is the going rate for someone like you usually. They stay loose long enough small bounties turn into large bounties."

"No. You knew my full name and you knew my nick name. I don't even get called Don Juan all that much. "

"So what's your point?" He thought for a moment, really thought, and figured he'd just ask.

"Do I know you?"

"Ha! Nice try."

Hanna. Hanna. He racked his brain. She was like the name to a song you couldn't quite get right. Harmful Hanna. Hateful Hanna. Happy Hanna. What was it?

"Hungry...hungry? "

"What's that? Hungry again?"

" No. No! You're Hungry Hanna!"

The horse stopped suddenly with a jerk, and the bounty hunter's back stiffened. Johnny got the distinct feeling one does when you step near a rattlesnake.

"I hate that name. I fucking hate it."

Her voice was cold and deadly. Johnny was half convinced to terminate this line of inquiry, but this was a revelation to him. Not just to the identity of his captor but all the mutterings and gossip he'd heard at every other watering hole he'd sat a spell for what felt like the last year.

So Johnny, Hungry Hanna said you were real good at riding mares hard. Said you were always good for six shots too. Hungry Hanna said you're the best saddle she ever sat on Don Juan.

"You're the woman keeps saying we fuc-, I mean that we're acquainted."

"Maybe we did." Her head turned and she looked over her shoulder at him. " Be honest, do you even remember me?"

He couldn't remember putting his poor brain under this much pressure before. He quickly reviewed the not inconsequential number of women he'd bedded. Not to mention any of their relation he could have inadvertently offended. In particular those where alcohol had been involved. He couldn't place her.

"I like to think I'd remember a face like yours."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She turned a bit more, interested.

"You got an expression like a cat somebody threw water on.” Her face wrinkled in what Johnny hoped was amusement. "No offense intended. I don't remember you. Sorry, I just don't. Look, obviously I wronged you in some way or maybe you thought there was something more there when we-"

"Ha!" Her laugh was loud and curt and bereft of humor.

"Just don't take a bite out of me."

"Your mouth runs away from your brain a lot, don’t it?”

"I heard you...you know.” She shook her head. “Always bite the trigger fingers off bounties. So they can't shoot straight if they come back after you.”

She squinted at him, like she was trying to decide which digit would taste the best, then laughed long and loud.

"That's the stupidest one I heard yet, and I've been everything from skin and bones to too fat to ride anything smaller than a Clydesdale. Where'd you hear that one?"

"I just heard it from some guy. I don't remember. It still sounds like something you’d do."

"Yeah, well, it's not. My nickname's Hungary Hanna. H-u-n-g-a-r-y. Like the country."

"Really? How's that happen?"

"You tell one idiot when he's drunk, he tells another idiot when he's drunk, the next thing you know, I'm Hungry Hanna because I ate baby Jesus with a side of cornbread."

"Well I'm sorry. Hungary Hanna then. As it is, since we know each other so intimately maybe you could-"

"We don't know each other at all. I made up your nickname and all those stories to tell any fool that'll listen."

He shook his head like she'd pistol whipped him. Hanna saw this and nodded with a little smile and urged her horse on.

"Why would you even do that? That don't make sense."

"I spread the tale of Don Juan around, pretty soon he's got a reputation. I use it as bait for the kind of bounty who sees red when someone whispers in his ear his woman's been smiling at you."

She was talking but it was like he was listening underwater. He shook his head again.

"Why me?" He asked plaintively. "What'd I ever do to you?"

"Unfortunately nothing." She winked. It was horrifying under the circumstances. "But I heard you were the type."

He was stunned into silence for the next couple hours. The road trotted by. The handful of solitary riders they passed gave them a wide berth. Finaly Hanna heaved an audible sigh, and slowed up her horse.

"This is good enough for tonight I guess. I'm hungry." She looked back at him with a vicious grin. "Got a hankering for one of those ladyfingers."

Johnny for his part just stared back woodenly. He'd temporarily moved beyond fear and certainly beyond morbid humor. Hanna pulled a face.

"Christ Johnny. I'm still Hungarian and it was just a little sex talk is all. If you can't handle that how were you ever going to make it against the Pinkertons? Now come on. I've got pemmican for dinner, mmm-mmm."

He vomited after the first pemmican ball. It wasn't that bad, his stomach just felt this was the way to register its complaint. Hanna patiently wiped his mouth, offered Johnny the canteen, then fed him another ball. He was sitting precariously against a tree, hands and feet still bound. It was like he'd fallen a long ways and now hit the bottom with a thud that turned everything inside to jelly. It left him feeling nerveless and empty somehow.

"You want some whiskey? Might help with the digestion there."

He nodded mechanically and she took a swig before administering the bottle to him. He took two big swallows and coughed, red eyed.

"There we are."

Since he'd learned who Hanna was, he couldn't look at her the same way somehow. She was less like some implacable force of nature and more like...a crazy. Just crazy. He wasn't sure yet if that wasn't worse.

Her threats and tough talk just flowed over and past him now as he watched her eat. He was giving her some look apparently. It must have bothered her because Hanna’s eyebrows squeezed together in displeasure.

"It's not anything to throw yourself down a well over. I never said anything but real good things about you and your technique. I'll bet lots of women jumped into your bed just on my say so."

"That's not the kind of thing I went around talking about. Not to buddies and especially not to drunken lonesome perverts in saloons." Hanna looked a bit nonplussed at that, and the eyebrows rose.

"Really? That's not usual."

"That's a goddamned insulting assumption to make. What'd I ever do?"

"Who'd you ever do, you mean. Let me see now. There was that Qing diplomat's cousin."

He stared at her. She had a little smirk going on just at the corners of her lips, and a marvelous and amazing thing was happening. His anger was starting to overpower the helplessness.

"So what? You got something against orientals?"

"Whoa there, mind your tone." She replied, her voice turning deadly again. "I don't have a thing against nobody unless they piss me off, like you're in danger of doing. I don't care if you laid the queen of Jamaica and Sitting Bull watched, doesn't make a difference to me. Still, if you're gonna be an asshole, maybe we just turn in early."

Johnny took a deep breath and counted to 10 silently. It was a trick the nuns had taught him all the way back in his mission days. He still wanted to know why she'd fixated on him.

"Sorry, alright? I'm already hearing about that from everyone I meet. Along with whatever you’ve been spreading, so excuse me if I might be a bit sensitive."

"Ok." She said flatly. "You want to talk about it? I'd like to hear how you think it went for a change instead of second hand from some barfly."

"Why?" She shrugged.

"Be interesting to know how much they got right. Like my nickname."

"I was young. She was real pretty.” He struggled to explain. “An elegant lady. Exotic. I couldn't understand a word she was saying. She wanted me to come upstairs with her. Seemed really excited, like she needed some help. I figured maybe there was a spill to clean up."

"Yeah, I heard you gave her the help she needed." Hanna took another swig, bemused, and passed him the bottle. At first he refused by turning his head.

"Come on, don't be a baby. One for you, one for me."

He thought a moment, then took a sip and swished it around a bit. Some people were more charming when they had drink in them, and if his record was anything to go by, Johnny was one such. Maybe he'd get lucky and she’d drop her guard. Angry drunks were the worst though.

"That it?"

"There's more, but I don't think you need more of my life story to tell your friends."

"Touchy huh? I'll let that slide though." She tilted her head like she was contemplating him like a chess move. "The fiddle player and piano player in Tall Trees."

Johnny sat in dumb silence. Hanna nodded, took another sip, then let Johnny do the same.

"How did you-"

"I'll get to that if you're good. Anyways, I know. I'll bet that caused some bad blood. Fooling around on two women under the same roof." He shook his head.

"Wait a damn minute. It wasn't like that at all. I didn't cheat anybody, that was a threesome." She stared at him expressionlessly.

"A whatsome now?"

"Two women at the same time.” She was staring at him like it was babble to her. “They tell you I cheated on them?"

"Well not exactly." She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "I just put two and two together."

Maybe math wasn’t her strong suit. Hanna may have known things about him, or thought she did, but some of it was bad guesses. Johnny must have been smiling, maybe condescendingly, because her expression was stiffening again and he didn't need that.

"Anyways, I play some guitar and I'm pretty decent. It’s natural for us music lovers to get along."

"Uh huh. There's two kinds of men in this world. Those who get laid for their guitar playing, and those who play guitar to get laid. We both know which one you are." He shrugged, such as he could.

"Doesn’t really matter since I’m not making a career of it. So one night we're talking music, drinking, laughing. I pay two lovely and talented ladies a few earnest compliments. We're throwing song lyrics out there. The lyrics start getting a little heated. A few jokes that maybe aren't jokes. The next thing I know they're taking turns on me."

Hanna pulled a disgusted face, and took another swig. This time she didn't offer him the bottle.

"Hey, you asked didn't you? You sure you don't want the details? I'll tell you what I can remember."

She shook her head and took another swig. With what Johnny hoped was the utmost subtlety, he noticed that they'd drained a third of the bottle. She'd helped herself to more than him, and she was smaller besides.

"Hey, it's just a little sex talk. You can't handle that, how you going to handle the Pinkertons?"

"I don't have to handle the Pinkertons you dumb shit. Unlike yourself."

She reached out like she wanted to smack him, looked at the hand, and then quickly took off her gloves. To his disappointment, she offered him the bottle again, and he took as small a sip as he could. His head was beginning to swim now, that pleasant cottony feeling he knew so well. His wits would go next if he kept at that bottle.

She gave him the tilted look again. There were blooms in her cheeks.

"Loretta Devereux."

For a few seconds the words were just nonsense. Hanna pointed an accusatory finger.

"Feh. I knew it. Going to deny it?"

"Just give me a second. Ok I've got her now. Yeah, me and Loretta. What about her?"

Hanna shook her head like Johnny had told her he pissed his britches.

"She looks like she never met a hairbrush her whole life." Johnny thought back. He couldn't argue that particular point.

"Yeah, but the rest of her looked good. She washes it, what else you want?"

"We’re still talking her hair right? A little bit of class! Don't you have any self respect?"

"I was delivering a crate of Poison Poppy. After she tried the shine she insisted I have a drink with her. What could I do? She wanted to give me a tip."

"Yeah, instead you gave her your…you know what? I think we’ve established the nickname fits fine."

Johnny shrugged again. He wasn't going to be shamed.

"Poison Poppy could make a gorgon look like a goddess. How about another drink?"

Hanna took another big swig, then passed Johnny the bottle again. She looked closer at the bottle, which was down by half.

"You're drinking less than me."

"That's because I think you're trying to get me drunk."

"Now why would I do that?"

She put a bare hand on his shoulder, and a few things occurred to Johnny at that moment. He couldn’t tell yet if she acted lewd to cover up her prudishness or the other way around. That possibility and all this talk about his past dealings were putting ideas in his littlest head.

"C'mon. I'll take another drink. You never answered me before. Why me?"

She wobbled a bit, shook her head as if to clear it, then fed him another shot. He drank deeper to put her at ease, and now he knew he was feeling it. The truth was he might get more charming when he drank but he didn't get cleverer. She regarded him as she drank, then blurted it out.

"You fucked Maria Perez up near Emerald Ranch. Tried to fuck them other wives too. You're a wife fucker!"

Johnny's head was full of fog now, and he struggled. No he hadn't! Still he remembered something like it. Finally, he shook his head furiously, which made him want to vomit again from the motion.

"I never did anything like that! I danced with her once. I never even spoke to those other fellas' wives. That was just a vicious rumor. That what you do? Believe every stupid rumor about me you hear?"

Hanna smiled in response.

"See how that works? Maria's old man was so mad he couldn't see straight. He and his pals were gonna string you up and cut your nuts off."

Johnny's blood froze as his fuzzy mind made what it could of the implications.

"Why didn't I hear about that?"

"Probably because they ran into me when they came looking for you where I said you'd be. That's why Maria and them call themselves the three widows now. I've been spreading your legend around the last two years Johnny. You make great bait when I've got a bounty who's got a woman and not feeling secure in his manhood. And let's face it, that's most of you."

"But Jesus. Why me? Why won’t you tell me?" He pleaded, almost whined.

She smiled even wider now. In the firelight in her duster she looked like some kind of devil. With a few drinks in him, a devil he might have a roll in the hay with.

"I heard about you once from a lady friend.” She nodded. “Yep, just like that.”

“So I thought to myself, a woman talking about how good a man is in bed. You don’t hear that much even if he is, right? You must really be something. Why, I’ll bet someone like you had a reputation already. Now if I talk about you like that other men might get jealous and stupid. More than usual. So I started throwing your name around. That and a few drinks usually brings out the loose talk. You and I are looking to get hitched is usually a good story, I just want to know if you've been a good boy. Someone tells me they've seen you. I talk to a lady, she mentions another lady, and pretty soon, I've got a handle on you and a bunch of stories to tell. Which turned into a whole lot of bounties."

Abruptly, Johnny turned and puked. He retched, then did it again. The ground smelled of used whiskey and pemmican.

"Well shit. I'm sorry." She said. The word sounded as foreign coming out of her as the Chinese ambassador’s cousin.

Hanna came over and wiped his mouth roughly with a cloth handkerchief, gave it a look then tossed it into the night. If she grinned at him again he thought he'd puke again, but instead her mouth was squeezing on itself. Almost regretful looking. Almost.

"You've just been going up and down the country airing my dirty laundry and ruining my name just to make your job easier. What the hell's wrong with you?"

What he really wanted to say was that she was a twisted bitch, not to mention a pervert collecting other people's love lives. Watered down as what he’d said was, he was still making massive bets against a bullet in his head.

Hanna didn't look mad, and she didn't look sad. The look was one Johnny actually remembered from his days at the mission. When one of them would tell that old battleaxe Sister Dolores something she found so stupid any hope of ever being taken seriously again would just flee her face forever.

"Course I did Johnny. Why else would I ever go around telling people we fucked?” She put the cap back on the bottle.

“By the way, don't ever try to drink me under the table again. I'm not one of your saloon whores."

I actually wanted to save the “How they know each other” reveal for Chapter 2 but moved it here to get the word count under control. I’m trying to keep these brisker but next chapter will probably come in at 10K words. But these are new characters I gotta introduce, hopefully you had a better experience. I will tell you up front, there's no sex planned till chapter 4 but we’ll get a couple moments like we had here, I think it's way more natural that way, but if you hold out till then I think you'll appreciate the buildup.

I have some AI illustrations I did for this chapter, if you’d like to check them out you can find them here: https://johnny-topside9.livejournal.com/76975.html

Oh, and Johnny is NOT a stand-in for me. That was a coincidence but I'm not changing the name.

Next chapter:

Action mostly and an evolving dynamic with Hanna and Johnny. An ambush by the Skinner brothers gives Johnny a chance to escape while putting Hanna's chastity and life in danger. Johnny has to make a choice between what's good for him and what his conscience can live with.
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The Ups and Downs of Being Wanted