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[semi-occasionally-writing-stuff]

Broken Silence

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Word Count: 2389

Status: Finished

Eddie isn’t too sure why the grief of losing his dog 12 years ago was coming back to haunt him this hard tonight. Perhaps it was the way Eddie never had to doubt that Buck loved him in some way. He was always sure platonically, but never romantically. Until now maybe. It also could be the way that Eddie would still keep a space next to him for Buck. The way he could walk though his house in the dark and know exactly where Buck’s hoodie was sitting, or where his shoes would be, or what spot on the couch he would always be. It could even be the way Eddie had tried his best to save the ones he loved from the force of nature, yet still failed. There were too many parallels with the one who helped him survive childhood and the one who helped him survive L.A. and becoming a better father.

AKA Buck is struck by lightning and Eddie is overwhelmed with the loss in his past. Bobby sits with Eddie in his grief in the hospital chapel.

[semi-occasionally-writing-stuff]

Of Bullets & Blood - Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Summary

C.C. Tinsley. A preacher’s son. Now a bounty hunter who will do whatever it takes to find who killed his wife and child.

Ricky Goldsworth. A former samurai running from his past. Now a bounty hunter trying to stay honourable in a land riddled with crime.

At first glance, these men were opposites in every way. However, through betrayal, blood, corruption, and the crimes of a serial killer, they will find that they have much more in common than they first expected.

Western/Samurai AU!

Chapter 4: A Buried Past

By the time Ricky had finished setting the house completely ablaze, he walked with a bowl of stew into the barn Tinsley had made his way into where he was sitting on a small stool with his cigarette.

“Ah, so you back to being Mr Good and Righteous?”

“You back to being an asshole?”

Tinsley hummed, “I never really stopped.”

Ricky raised his hand, “This bandage says otherwise. Who knew you could be such a gentleman?”

Tinsley shook his head and ignored him, “Did you really steal a bowl of stew while burning the house down?”

Ricky shrugged and sat himself down on a hay bale, “Wasn’t like they were going to eat it. Besides, they promised me a meal.”

They both sat in silence for a moment. Ricky ignored the nagging guilt he felt from acting with his anger. It went against everything he was taught, deviated from his code, but he knew it had to be done. Sometimes doing bad things is the only way to ensure the good goes on. And he knew Tinsley understood that too.

Ricky finished his stew and set it aside. A moment later he appears at Tinsley’s side, holding his old gun out to him.

Tinsley waved him away, “Keep it. It’s always been too big and clunky for me anyway. Plus, you might live a little longer out here if you’re carrying a gun.”

Ricky tucked it into the back of his trousers and nodded, “With such a kind gift, would you mind if I borrowed your rope?”

“Am I going to regret asking why?” Tinsley sighed

“I’m going to go back and get the bodies out. I’ll bury them properly next to the tree a few feet from the well.”

“Why do you care so much about burying those folks?”

“These people have no one. No one will know they are dead or that they or down there. Even if we tell the Sheriff, it’s not like he’s going to go through the trouble to haul the bodies out of there and bury them. He will just seal it up and call it a day. These people had families and they would want their loved ones to be buried. I didn’t get to bury my family when they died. I carry that guilt around with me every day. So, maybe I’m trying to make things right by doing this. Whether or not you help me is up to you.”

Tinsley knew that Ricky’s grief and guilt were talking, and the last thing he wanted was to take that on top of his own. So, he stood, tossed his cigarette onto the ground and put his hand on Ricky’s shoulder, “The sentiment is nice but that truly is a massive waste of time. So, I’m taking your advice and leaving ‘cause I don’t like that one bit.”

Ricky tried to suppress his frustration and shove his grief aside, “If your child was killed and thrown down there. Wouldn’t you want someone to bury him?”

Tinsley was only a few steps away from the door when he froze with grief, unable to push away the memories of blue lips out from his mind and rid himself of the feeling of black smoke coating his throat and choking him. The only thing left to wonder is when did he become so heartless?

“Alright…I’ll help you. It’s not like you could do it by yourself with that hand of yours. I’ll grab a couple shovels. Get your horse ready and we will head out. I would rather we do this with the few hours of daylight we have left than to be feeling around a dingy well for corpses in the dark.”

Ricky knew he hit a nerve, but it was not his place to ask and so he let out a sigh. It was clear to him that deep down that Tinsley is grieving as much, if not more than he is.

Ricky smiled softly and hoped he could lighten his mood, “Well, I’ll be damned. You really do have a heart.”

He shrugged, picked up the shovels next to the door and exhaled shakily, “Been a long time since I’ve had one of those.”

They both walked out from the barn and strapped the shovels to their horses, then rode in a heavy sombre silence back to the well.

Once they got there, they hopped off their horses and took off their jackets. Tinsley lowered Ricky down the well with the rope and they brought the bodies and bones back up one by one. The two men could tell that they were both drowning in their own grief, so they wordlessly started digging the graves, piling one heap of dirt onto another. Tinsley looked across to Ricky for one moment, despite the determination he exuded, all he could see were saw the bags under his eyes and the deep creases between his eyebrows. Tinsley knew he was a troubled man and wanted to help but he hadn’t truly helped anyone in a long time. All he could do was at least try.

“What happened to your parents back…I’m assuming back in Japan? If you don’t mind me asking,” Tinsley asked carefully.

Ricky dug a little more aggressively than before, “What’s with the tone? Are you afraid that I’ll whack you with my shovel and dig a grave just for you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you. But I have heard sharing the weight of your regrets with someone makes life a little easier to bear.”

Ricky sighed, right now it seemed like Tinsley actually cared about him. He was half hoping that if he opened up, the grief would come pouring out and maybe, just maybe, he could breathe again.

“Your assumption was correct. It was back in Japan. I had been collecting taxes all day, talking to folk, making sure they were doing okay. I had promised my little brother that I would help him write some haikus. So, I was expecting to see him all excited when I got back but instead, I was met with his body lying in the middle of the floor with his throat slit.”

Tinsley bowed his head and let out a breath, “Ricky, you don’t have to-"

Ricky waved him off, “It’s fine, I’ve started to tell you so might as well finish.”

Ricky finished piling the earth on the grave, stuck his shovel into the ground and started tying two bits of wood together to make a cross.

“My mother was on her knees and just wailing on the other side of the room. My father was screaming with unbridled fury at my uncle who was holding a katana that was dripping with my brother’s blood. My uncle seemed to be a little drunk. He was kept saying that we were plotting against him. We weren’t of course but he had been getting more paranoid ever since my father suggested he retire his role as the Jitō. We had brushed it off though and just chalked it up to him being stressed out. Although, I had taken care of a few problems in ways that would be seen as dishonourable, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he found out and that’s what set him off.”

Ricky sighed and stuck the cross into the dirt. He patted the grave, felt the Earth between his fingers and found comfort in knowing he was far away from that now.

“He swung at my father who was mid-sentence and cut his head clean off. You know, he was still standing for a second after his head hit the floor. I was filled with fear, but I turned it into anger and told him that I would kill him and tell everyone what he has done but he was a Jitō. The great Jun’ichi. He ruled the province and people would believe I was a traitor; they would never accept the truth."

Jun’ichi sighed and stopped the head from rolling across the floor with his foot, “Such a shame that this is how it ends.”

“This will end with you answering to me or the Shogun. The people will know of your dishonour and you will be remembered as a coward.”

“ No, that is not how this is going to go down. I have told my people that you are a traitor. That I have come to arrest you. When they see all this bloodshed, they will believe that you are a murderer, a traitor. It does not matter if I live or die, it does not matter what you say, I will still be remembered as an honourable leader. While your legacy will be tarnished by dishonour.”

Ricky drew his blade, “So be it.”

“I knew he intended to kill me. I knew if he won then he would kill my mother too, so I told her to run. I was so overcome in fear and anger that I don’t even remember swinging my blade at him. It was only when I felt blood splatter across my face that I realised that I had struck him. He fell to the floor, and I ran after my mother. I found out later that I didn’t kill him, he still made it as difficult as possible for me to escape after I ran.”

Tinsley stopped digging as his heart dropped, “And your mother?”

Ricky stood and rested his hand on his shovel, “I told her to get somewhere safe and I would find her after I dealt with him, but I guess she didn’t believe in me enough because she ended up drowning herself in the nearby river.”

Tinsley gently put his hand on his shoulder, “She would've been afraid of him, with what was to come. He had a massive influence, right? Maybe feared that even if you did win, no one would believe you both and still end up dead anyway. Perhaps she wanted to die by her own hand instead of being hunted down and slaughtered by a brute or executed and made an example of. No doubt that she was carrying the guilt of losing her son and husband, and the fear of losing another child. The pain of losing your partner and child kills you in a way that cannot be described. This wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not…but I was a coward. I was blinded by my greed. I took every bit of jewellery, all the money from the house and paid my way to America. I was too concerned for my survival to even honour my family with a burial.”

It was at this moment that Tinsley realised that Ricky was not just some inexperienced fool. He was holding onto the past. He felt responsible for their deaths. Now he was being honourable to try and make up for it, but he knew that acting with this way of honour would get him killed here and he hoped it would. Tinsley knew because he used to be like him. When you've lost everything, the only friend that can be found is death.

“You’re not being greedy for wanting to get to safety. There’s no shame in survival, you did what you had to do.”

Ricky shrugged his hand off and continued to dig, “Doesn’t mean it was right. I bet your parents are proud of you though, cleaning the streets and all.”

“Well…I don’t know about that. My mother passed when I was a kid, but she would probably be mad with me, I’ve done a lot of bad things in my time.”

“Haven’t we all? What about your father?”

“Oh, I’m sure when I die, he’ll meet me at the gates of hell just to try to kill me. That bastard lived a lot longer than was good for anyone,” he spat.

“That bad?”

Tinsley snorted, “He was the town preacher, so putting the fear of God into people while still making them love him was kind of his thing. Before my mother passed, he would tuck me into bed every night and tell me some made-up story. But after it he picked up the bottle and it became a part of him. He was violent, bitter, and unpredictable. Still maintained his kind and giving persona inside the church though. I don't know if her death made him lose his mind or if he just became more of who he really was.”

“Sounds like he would be good friends with my uncle. When did he pass?”

“It was when I was 17. He got into a fight with a guy and this guy pulled a gun on him. He grabbed the barrel of the gun and pressed it to his own forehead, then started goading him into shooting him. He didn’t think he would do it, but…well, the wall got decorated with his blood and brain that night.”

That was Tinsley’s first kill. That man brought so much fear and terror into his life, that a part of him was satisfied with watching a man so towering and powerful be taken down with something as simple as a bullet.

“Lovely.”

“Yeah, always thought that church wall looked a bit boring. It was nice to see some colour on it,” Tinsley smiled.

Ricky huffed a laugh and shook his head. They both continued to bury the forgotten victims in a comfortable silence, carefully crafting crosses to give as much recognition to them as they could. As the sun set on the freshly buried graves, the two men knew that this would do nothing to heal their own grief but hoped that it would one day help heal another’s.

[semi-occasionally-writing-stuff]

Of Bullets & Blood - Chapter 3

Read on AO3

Summary

C.C. Tinsley. A preacher’s son. Now a bounty hunter who will do whatever it takes to find who killed his wife and son.

Ricky Goldsworth. A former samurai running from his past. Now a bounty hunter trying to stay honourable in a land riddled with crime.

At first glance, these men were opposites in every way. However, through betrayal, blood, corruption, and the crimes of a serial killer, they will find that they have much more in common than they first expected.

Western/Samurai AU!

Chapter 3: A Warm Meal & Bad Company

To say Ricky’s day wasn’t going that well would be an understatement. He had been out hunting for almost 7 hours and still hadn’t caught a thing. He found a deer, but his boot got stuck in the stirrup and he ungracefully fell off his horse and spooked the poor thing. Then an hour later Francesca bucked him off his horse when a rattlesnake slithered out onto the path. Other than that, there wasn’t much that he could find and he knew he didn’t have anything left in the cupboards as he donated it to the local church to feed the poor. Accepting defeat, Ricky started to head home until he came by a dirty white house where an old man was sitting on the steps of the porch.

“Hey son! You look like you’re in desperate need of a warm meal. Why don’t you come on in?,” he hollered.

Ricky noted that the man seemed pretty harmless, there was a walking stick resting beside him and he was had a wide welcoming smile that beckoned him in. Despite this, he didn’t really want to bother the man.

“It’s okay sir, I’m just passing through. No need to put yourself through all that trouble.”

“Nonsense, it would be my pleasure! Good company always has a seat at my table. My wife always makes too much for me and my son. It’s best that you do come in and help us eat all of it.”

The front door creaks open and an older lady appears who waves at Ricky, “Abe, that’s dinner ready. oh hello there, I’m Delilah! Come on in, I’ll set an extra place at the table for you.”

“The lady has commanded you to the table now boy, you better get in there,” the man laughed as he stood and walked inside.

Ricky sighed and decided that eating a homemade meal with a family instead of stopping by the general store for some awful tinned food was a better alternative. So, he climbed down from his horse, brushed the dirt off his clothes the best he could, took off his bow and quiver, packed them onto the horse and straightened his jacket as he walked up to the house and into the dining room.

“There’s our guest of honour! Come take a seat next to Samuel here. When was the last time you had a good meal with family?” Delilah said as she placed a plate full of stew in front of him.

“It’s been a while, they’re all back home. But I have to thank you, ma’am. This is real kind of you all.”

“You aren’t the first to say that and you sure won’t be the last.”

Before Ricky could find the words to come up with a response, he felt a sharp pain exploded in the side of his head as everything went black.

When he woke up, he was on his back in a dark and dirty well. His head was pounding and his whole body was stiff and achy. A foul but sickly-sweet smell invaded Ricky’s nostrils as he put his hand on something smooth and tried to push himself up, but his hand went right through and plunged into something cold and slimy. As Ricky took a closer look at what his hand was in, it was clear that his hand was in the guts of the rotting corpse of a young woman. He screamed and cursed as he scrambled back into the wall of the well. There were skeletons and half rotting corpses strewn around him. If he didn’t get out soon, he would be one of them.

The family had taken all his possessions from him, all he could do was try to climb out or stay here and starve to death. With a deep breath, he tried to grip onto the uneven rock that lined the well and tried to pull himself up with the little grip that he had.

“Alright…right hand there, push up with left leg then grab onto that jagged rock there with the left hand. What could go wrong?”

Unfortunately, many things could go wrong. As soon as Ricky grabbed onto the rock, he slipped which caused the rock to slice his hand open as he fell back into the depths of the well. He hit the bodies with an ugly crunch and prayed that the bones that broke were not any of his.

As the panic and desperation set in, he heard an echoey but familiar voice, “You know, of all the places I feared that I would run into you again. This was not one of them.”

“You know, this may be the only time that I’ll ever be happy to hear your voice Tinsley.”

Tinsley snorted, “And you call me pain in the ass, someone was certainly self-projecting there. Give me a second and I’ll throw down a bit of rope for you. Then you can tell me who the hell dumped you down there.”

Ricky slowly dragged himself back up onto his feet as he applied pressure to his bleeding hand. When the rope was lowered, he grabbed it and began to climb up as Tinsley worked to pull him up at the same time, “You might want to savour this moment, it will be the only time I will appreciate you Tinman.”

“Alright Golden boy, don’t taunt the hand that saves your ass.”

As Ricky reached the top, Tinsley grabbed onto his forearm and helped him over, “Well, don’t you look rosy. You doing okay, Goldsworth?”

“I got knocked out by some old man, spent God knows how long down a well filled with dead bodies and sliced my hand open. How do you think I’m doing?”

Tinsley carefully took Ricky’s injured hand in his and examined the cut. Without saying a word, he retrieved some whiskey from his bag and a bandage. He poured some whiskey on his handkerchief and gently cleaned his wound and then began to wrap the bandage round his hand as carefully as he could.

“Who did this to you?” Tinsley murmured.

“Why do you care?”

Despite how Tinsley presented himself and how desperately he tried to suppress it, he cared deeply about every victim he has come across. From the little boy he found drowned in the river with dark red and purple bruises all over his neck to the kind old lady that he found with her skull caved in from a robbery gone wrong, the weight of every life he wasn’t able to save or avenge haunts him. Even though Tinsley wasn’t too fond of Goldsworth, he knew he was a decent enough man worth saving.

“This is the first time in years that I’ve found a victim that was still alive. So, forgive me if I care about who is responsible for this.”

Ricky sighed; he has had his own fair share of failings. Often times it’s not the victims faces that haunt him; their names are long forgotten. It’s the little things left behind that stick out the most. A lone burnt children’s sock next to a smouldering house or streaks blood being carried down a river.

“It was some family. I think the old man was called Abe? He had a wife and a son but I can’t really remember their names. It was at some big old house, not too far from the pig farm. They very kindly served me with food that I didn’t get a chance to eat before robbing me.”

Tinsley finished bandaging up Ricky’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder, “Well, luckily for you, I think I know where that house is. The general store owner mentioned that he had heard a rumour that bodies were being dumped in this well. I found the bodies last week but didn’t have any leads and I knew if I reported it, then whoever was doing this would get away.”

“So, you waited for another victim to get thrown down the well? What if the next one was killed before being dumped here? You’re just letting another person die!”

“If there’s no trail to follow then there’s no killer to catch. They’ll just get a little more careful and keep going. This was the fastest way to find the killer and save as many lives as possible. It all worked out in the end though, right?” Tinsley reasoned.

Ricky grunted, relenting because deep down he knew that Tinsley was right.

Tinsley nodded, climbed on top of his horse, and stretched his hand out to Ricky. “There you go, Goldsworth. Now, how about we have a friendly chat with your hosts and show them that your sins do truly come back to haunt you?”

Ricky grabbed his hand and climbed onto the back of his horse, “I would love nothing more.”

By the time the two men reached the house, with the extra horse outside, Ricky knew they had picked up a new victim.

“We need to be careful here, wouldn’t put it past them to use whoever they have lured in as a hostage to get away,” Ricky said as they jumped off the horse.

“So, I suppose you’re not planning on announcing our arrival so they can fight us?”

Ricky opened his mouth to answer but Tinsley held his hand up and cut him off, “Don’t answer that, I’m afraid what you’re going to say. Listen, your whole honour thing works when you’re up against other honourable folk and when the time comes, I’ll let you have at it. But these folks are cowards that will put anyone they damn well please in danger if it means they get away. We can take them in alive but we need to do this the right way or that person is as good as dead.”

“Does the right way include being a sneaky little shit?”

Tinsley laughed as Ricky slowly broke out into a grin, “We can be direct little shits if you’d like?”

“I’d like that,” Ricky hummed.

Tinsley reached into his horse’s saddle bag, pulled out an old large revolver and handed it to Ricky, “Here, you know how to shoot a gun right?”

“Of course. Just because I favour the sword and the bow doesn’t mean I don’t know how to shoot a man.”

“Good, because we’ll be outnumbered, and I don’t feel like doing all the work if things go sideways. Anyway, I’ll go in the front and you’ll go in the back. Sound good?”

Ricky thought it through and with the little that he remembered of the house, he knew that it would take longer for him to go in the back and through the kitchen which would leave Tinsley outnumbered long enough to get riddled with bullets.

“Sounds like a great way for you to earn a couple extra bullet holes. I’ll smash through the window of the dining room, get the poor guy out and we’ll deal with them that way.”

Tinsley drew his pistol and cocked it, “It’s nice to know you care but if I get shot doing it your way, you’ll never hear the end of it. You head on round and on 3, we’ll smash in like the direct little shits you wanted us to be.”

Ricky nodded, quietly snuck round and pressed his back against the wall next to the window as Tinsley bounded up the stairs to wait at the front door. Ricky peaked through the window and saw two men with their backs to them conversing, one of which Ricky was sure was the son.

1

Delilah emerged from the kitchen and handed him the bowl of stew.

2

From his position he could see Abe reaching into a drawer and slowly pulling out a revolver.

3

Taking a deep breath, Ricky aimed at Abe and fired once, hitting him in the head and splattering blood all over the wall, then smashing the rest of the window with his gun and stepping through as Tinsley kicked the door open with his gun aimed at Delilah who was screaming next to her husband who was missing a chunk of his head.

“Alright folks, let’s play a game called ‘all the killers in the room stay still so no one else dies,’” Tinsley shouted as he nervously darted his eyes between the family and Ricky who had his gun pressed against the back of Samuel’s head, half expecting him to shoot them all in quick succession.

Ricky grabbed the back of the shirt of the young man whose eyes were wide with fear, hauled him to his feet and ushered him through the broken window, “We’re not going to hurt you, but you should most certainly run. Can’t imagine this scene is going to get any friendlier.”

The man frantically nodded and held his hands up, “Of- of course! I won’t tell anyone about this, I promise!”

“Now, will one of you kindly tell me where you put my things?” Ricky asked calmly despite the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Fuck you!” Samuel growled.

Using the barrel of his gun that was pressed against the back of his skull, Ricky pushed his head down roughly onto the table, “Wrong answer, you really should try again.”

“It’s in the compartment behind the painting on the wall there, you murdering bastard!” Delilah screeched, pointing at the painting that was hung a few feet to the right of her.

“You got it?” Tinsley asked.

“Just watch my back,” Ricky answered, slowly moving his gun away from Samuel and walking towards the painting as Tinsley set his aim on the man to avoid friendly fire.

Once Ricky reached it, he tucked the gun into his belt, lifted the painting off the wall and was met with his katana, tanto, and a bundle of money. He tucked the money into his pocket and sheathed his tanto but kept a hold onto his sword.

“So, what now, you going to turn us in? You really think that is a punishment to us? You’ll make us famous and our legacy will be remembered for generations while the fools that we killed have no one around to even know that they’ve disappeared,” Samuel sneered as he slowly rose to his feet.

“What makes you think either of you will be leaving here alive? Can’t tell your story then huh?” Ricky chuckled.

Tinsley started to feel his sweat running down his back, there was a slight manic glint in Ricky’s eyes that alluded to something dangerous that was buried deep within, “Uh Goldsworth…What exactly are we doing? I thought the whole point of this was to catch them and turn them in?”

“Unfortunately, there has been a change of plans. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Before Tinsley could question him further, he stuck his katana into Delilah’s chest who frantically tried to reach for the gun her dead husband grabbed earlier.

With a shout of protest, Samuel rushed towards Ricky but didn’t get far before Ricky threw his dagger which lodged itself in his throat. He only made it a few more steps before collapsing to the ground and coughing up blood, wheezing and gurgling as he tried to draw more air into his lungs.

With a sigh, Ricky withdrew his sword from Delilah’s chest. Then he slowly walked over to Samuel and pulled his dagger from his throat, letting the blood pool on the wooden floorboards but ignored the clear sings of Samuel’s dwindling life.

Tinsley’s arms slowly lowered to his gun to his side, “What the fuck was that?”

“They're a bunch of cold-blooded killers Tinsley.”

“And it seems like you are as well. You going to kill me too?”

Ricky took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his blades, “I did what I had to do. You know that better than anyone. I'm willing to bet you've killed many unarmed folk in your time.”

“That's...different.”

Ricky snorted, “You might pretend to stand there all calm but we both know you've hunted down criminals and slaughtered them in a blind fury.”

He was right. It didn’t matter how hard he tried; Tinsley would not be able to suppress the memory of bone crushing underneath his fist or the spray of blood that hit his face. Two men had been foolish enough to dig up the grave of not only his wife but also his child. They had taken his wife’s necklace, her wedding ring and had also stolen the charred teddy bear that he buried with his daughter which they regarded as some sort of trophy for their hard work. This ignited a burning fury that was fed by the pain of grief which turned him into a raging inferno that left a river of crimson and a howling wind of mercy that was silenced with a violent unforgiving blow.

Tinsley sharply holstered his gun and tried to control his heavy breathing, “They took something that didn't belong to them and well…they had it coming.”

“Then why is that principle different now? They took the only thing I have that connects me to my family! They took this and many innocent lives just to birth a legacy of blood and fear. Are you really saying that you wouldn't have done the same?”

I did. I did and perhaps the worst part of it is, I don’t regret any of it.

Tinsley held hands up, “You got me there. What do you want to do ‘bout this mess then?”

Ricky sheathed his weapons and started to light the lamp, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s if you want to destroy a legacy then you must burn it to the ground. And that is what I intend to do.” Tinsley nodded and walked out, “Alright then. Now, you’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got an appointment with a cigarette.”

Tinsley didn’t quite understand Goldsworth. One minute he was yelling at him for being a cold killer but then went ahead to cut anyone down that dared to invoke his wrath. But perhaps he understood him more than he let himself believe. Tinsley used to try to be good but more of what he had to give was brutally taken from him and all that was left was an insatiable desire to seek revenge on anyone who had dared to wrong him. Maybe they were one of the same, one trying to be better than he was and the other who knew what path he had taken but couldn’t find it in him to change.

He lit his cigarette and as he held it between his lips. He took a deep drag to let the hot smoke fill his lungs. He heard the crash of the lamp being thrown onto the floor and soon felt the warmth of a dying legacy press against his back. And with the cigarette smoke shifting through the air like a ghost, Tinsley can’t help but wonder if he died right now, would the legacy that he would leave be more than one forged with the bullets he fired and the blood he has spilled?

Yes? No? He cannot find satisfaction in either answer. He knows that he never will.

[semi-occasionally-writing-stuff]

Of Bullets & Blood - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Summary

C.C. Tinsley. A preacher’s son. Now a bounty hunter who will do whatever it takes to find who killed his wife and son.

Ricky Goldsworth. A former samurai running from his past. Now a bounty hunter trying to stay honourable in a land riddled with crime.

At first glance, these men were opposites in every way. However, through betrayal, blood, corruption, and the crimes of a serial killer, they will find that they have much more in common than they first expected.

Western/Samurai AU!

Chapter 2 - The Meeting of Two Minds

C.C. Tinsley was not a patient man. If there was a job the needed to be done, he would do it straight away using the method that would guarantee his success and survival. This general rule could at times cause him to make ruthless decisions in his line of work, but this didn’t bother him much. He had abandoned his principles a long time ago.

So, when he entered the Sheriff’s office and spotted a bounty of $50 for Billy Nelson aka the Axeman, he would be a fool not to take it.

“I know that poster says dead or alive Tinsley, but I’d like to see if you’re capable of bringing a bounty in without pulling the trigger or leaving a pile of dead bodies,” Goondis drawled.

Goondis never approved of Tinsley’s methods. Although the man never broke the law, he was reckless in his eyes and did the job without an ounce of honour or respect. Turning in one too many criminals with gunshot wounds to the back of their bodies told him everything he needed to know.

“Don’t know why you’re getting all upset. You’re just going to hang the man anyway. You should be thankful that I’m saving you a job,” Tinsley answered as he pocketed the poster and walked out. He then got on his horse and rode straight for Nelson’s house, he didn’t want to give other bounty hunters any time to get there first.

Tinsley had been doing this job for 5 years. He knew that if you gave people a chance in this line of work, they’d only turn and stab you in the back. This often meant that if you wanted to see tomorrow, then it was best to act before they had the chance to think of their next move. It had built him a reputation, sometimes it helped but other times it made jobs much bloodier than they needed to be.

By the time Ricky arrived at the Sheriff’s office, Goondis was polishing his rifle with a sour look on his face.

“Get your ass to Macombe’s End and bring Nelson in. Quickly,” he grumbled as he tossed to poster to Ricky.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

“C.C. Tinsley rode off to take him in a few minutes ago. He’s been taking bounties for years, but I don’t trust the man. He’s ruthless, disrespectful and a coward. Won’t be too surprised if I find out that he’s killing all the dead or alive bounties in cold blood. I’ve never received so many with bullet holes in their backs, a real man would look them in the eye” Goondis spat.

Ricky nodded, making a mental note to watch his back when he went for Nelson. From the way the Sheriff spoke about him, he wouldn’t be too surprised if Tinsley shot him in the back just so he could be the one to take the Axeman in.

With this in mind, Ricky rode to the outskirts of Macombe’s End and slowly walked towards the house, scanning every possible ambush spot as he was expecting to be shot at any second.

Tinsley was also expecting a surprise attack of sorts but didn’t quite anticipate the swing of an axe knocking the gun out of his hand as he rounded the corner into the Axeman’s living room.

“Well, shit Nelson! You better not have scratched that! I don’t want to be paying for it using your bounty money, I have better things to spend it on,” Tinsley exclaimed, panic levels slowly rising as he saw that the man was so much bigger than him.

Nelson grabbed Tinsley by the throat and lifted him off the ground, “You won’t need to worry about that. I’m thinking about doing some redecorating. A nice decapitated head on the porch should look nice, don’t you think?”

“It’s a bit extreme, a rocking chair would look much nicer you know? But then again, I’m not too sure what the Bigfoot race use to decorate their homes or… Jesus when was the last time you washed?” Tinsley wheezed as he tried to pry his hands from his neck.

Tinsley realised that may not have been the smartest thing to say in his position, but he’d be damned if he never antagonised the killer that parted his head from his body.

“How ‘bout we take this outside?” Nelson snarled.

Tinsley barely had enough time to respond before he was thrown head first through the living room window and landed roughly on the wooden porch. Pain blossomed from his head and shoulder and then quickly spread into his neck and through his back. Hearing Nelson’s footsteps get louder, he grabbed the wooden railing and hauled himself back onto his feet.

Nelson rounded the corner with his axe wearing a snarl on his face. Before Tinsley could throw another insult, Nelson swept his axe to the side, trying to cut Tinsley’s head off from where he stood. Tinsley leapt back at the last second and watched as the axe embedded itself into the cabin’s wall, splinters flying everywhere.

Tinsley realised he needed to find a way back into the house to get his gun. He ungracefully scrambled over the railing, caught his foot at the top and fell straight into the dirt.

“Not my proudest moment,” Tinsley mumbled to himself as he started to pick himself up.

But before he could, a sharp pain exploded in his left side and he was thrown over onto his back. Tinsley’s heart dropped as he saw Nelson standing over him with a wicked smile.

“You’re right, a rocking chair with your decapitated body holding your head in your hands would look nice. Thanks for the tip,” he chuckled as he swung back his axe, but before he brought the axe down, a voice rung out.

“Turn around and fight me!” Ricky yelled as he drew his katana.

Tinsley and Nelson exchanged a confused look before he slowly lowered his axe.

“The fuck are you doing?” Tinsley yelled, completely baffled to why a man would bring a sword to an axe fight when a gun would end things so much quicker.

Ricky ignored the bearded stranger, solely focusing on the Axeman and his movements, “Get off the man, and face me. Or are you too much of a coward?”

Nelson laughed in surprise. Out of all the people he expected to turn up, he could not have imagined a man in a simple shirt and trousers holding a katana commanding him to fight.

“Alright then. Let’s jazz it!” he yelled as he stepped over Tinsley.

Now Tinsley could do the smart thing and let this crazy stranger fight Nelson, which might give him enough time to grab his gun. However, he could not push the doubt away. The man was small. To him there was a good chance that he’d be taken down before Tinsley was able to hobble his way over back into the house. Even then Tinsley didn’t want some poor fools death on his conscience.

So instead he settled on a bad idea and kicked Nelson in the nuts as he stepped over him, causing him to fall straight onto the floor. Ignoring how his body protested, Tinsley climbed on top of the man and punched him as hard as he could, feeling his nose crunch under his fist. But before he could hit him again, Nelson flipped Tinsley over onto his back, leaning over him.

“I’ve really had quite enough at this,” he spat.

Ricky shook off his surprise at how stupid Tinsley was being and quickly ran over to the pair. He made eye contact with Nelson for a split second, his eyes widening in surprise and panic, he knew he was out numbered and was growing desperate. He reached for his axe, but Ricky’s boot swiftly met the side of Nelson’s head, knocking him out instantly.

Tinsley rolled Nelson off him, sighed in relief and let his head thump against the dirt, “That was a bit theatrical, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps, nobody is dead at least…you okay friend?”

“We ain’t friends,” Tinsley drawled

Ricky sheathed his katana, “Then what are we?”

Tinsley slowly picked himself off the floor. He noted that the floor was slightly swaying beneath him, pain was still running down from his head to his shoulder, which was most certainly going to be bruised later and there was a dull ache in the side of his hip.

“I don’t know, a couple of assholes maybe?”

“Speak for yourself.”

Tinsley sighed as he walked back into the house, careful not to show any sign that he was finding it difficult to stand and walk properly. He gingerly picked up his silver revolver and leaned against the door frame, observing the stranger as he checked his gun.

“Okay. An asshole and a stuck-up prick, how ‘bout that?”

Ricky smirked; he had met too many men like him back home. They usually ended up dead, “You are trying to make me angry, but all I feel right now is a strong sense of pity. Goondis was right about you.”

Tinsley’s jaw tightened and felt a wave of anger flow through him. He could deal with pre-conceived judgements on his character, he had learned to use them to his advantage, but pity is something he had grown to despise ever since his mother passed when he was a child.

“And what was he right about?”

“You’re a cold, aggressive man without honour.”

Tinsley laughed bitterly, “Being honourable is a good way to get killed. I have folk that I need to deal with before I can lie 6 ft underground.”

“And what kind of folk would that be?”

“Bad ones. You try fighting a beast with honour and see how well you do. I guarantee you’ll have your throat ripped out before you’re even finished commanding it to fight you. Why didn’t you cut that bastard in half when you had the chance?”

“It wasn’t right to. I also didn’t want to ruin your brown coat with his blood, despite all the dirt that it’s covered in already.”

“Aww, how considerate of you. You say that to all the men?” Tinsley crooned.

Ricky blushed and tried to suppress the smile that was tugging at his lips. Instead deciding to distract himself and started to tie the axeman up.

Tinsley could tell he was new at this, naïve and filled with a sense of duty, “So sword man-”

“It’s a katana.”

“Whatever it is, frankly, I don’t really care. I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?”

“Ricky Goldsworth. I can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ricky answered, crossing his arms across his chest.

Tinsley grimaced as he carefully walked from the house down to Ricky. He gripped his gun a little tighter “Likewise. So, since I was here first, I’m taking him in. You can have 15% if you beg for it.”

“I don’t beg. Take him and keep the money, I’ll come with you to make sure he is delivered alive,” Ricky exhaled, not fully convinced that Tinsley wouldn’t just shoot Nelson before he brought him to the Sheriff.

“Fine…but you’re staying at least 10 paces in front of me. I don’t feel like getting stabbed today,” he grunted as they whistled for their horses.

The ride to the Sheriff’s office was silent. Both of the men keeping an eye on one another. Expecting some sort of attack.

They tied up their horses outside and Tinsley hauled the man off his horse and onto his good shoulder.

“I’ll wait here, make sure our horses are okay” Ricky said as he got some food out of his horse’s bag.

“If you steal my horse, I will fucking shoot you Goldsworth.”

Ricky rolled his eyes, “Good to know. Stealing an Arabian horse with such skinny legs sounds like a great idea, especially when they break so easily.”

Tinsley started walking up to the Sheriff’s office, “Their legs won’t break if you don’t ride like an irresponsible maniac, makes sense that you have a Shire. Matches your reckless will to get yourself axed.”

He kicked the door open and threw Nelson down by the entrance to the cells, “You order an Axeman?”

Goondis jumped up from his chair, expecting blood to be oozing onto his floorboards and inspected the man, feeling his pulse, “He’s alive?!”

“Yes. I’ve brought you live ones before, granted the poster said they had to be to get paid.”

Goondis slowly shook his head in disbelief, “I’m not giving you the money.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t capture this man,” Goondis growled.

“What makes you say that?”

“You would’ve brought me a corpse if you had!”

“Do you want me to take him out back and shoot him? I’d happily do that for you as long as I get my $50,” Tinsley challenged.

It was quiet for a moment. Both of them staring at one another. Waiting for someone to break. After a moment Tinsley took a step forward towards Nelson and the Sheriff relented.

He took the money out of his drawer and threw it at him, “Fine. Take your damn money and get the hell out.”

“Oh, don’t be so angry Sheriff, you know you’ll have fun hanging him. I’ve seen that look in many killers’ eyes. We both know you are not the saint that you pretend to be.”

The Sheriff reminded Tinsley too much of his father who was a preacher in Texas. After his mother died, his father would wear a kind and warm façade when standing in front of God but at home he was a vengeful and angry drunk. But with the Sheriff, there was also more to it than that. Every time there was a hanging. As soon as the neck snapped. He could see a how much he enjoyed watching people die. To him, the Sheriff pretended to be a good man. He was just as bad as the people he put away.

Goondis sighed and shook his head, “I never claimed to be a saint and I certainly do not enjoy watching those poor souls die. But I do what I have to do to keep people safe and these fine folks clearly trust me since I’ve been in this position longer than you can count. It is my duty to bring people to justice. But I know that the concept of duty is lost on you since you are only motivated by the money. Now, stop running your mouth and get the hell out my office.”

Tinsley smirked and started to leave, a part of him enjoyed seeing the man trying to force him to believe the trustworthy image he projects, “You can’t fool everyone, Sheriff. The truth will come out sooner or later.”

After the door shut on the Sheriff, he let out a sigh of relief. Goondis knew what had happened to Tinsley’s wife and son. Even 5 years on there were still theories being passed around about who did it. Most people believed Tinsley had lost his temper and killed them himself. The Sheriff was inclined to agree with them. Goondis was afraid that Tinsley would use his gun as a problem solver to either end his own life or gun him down in cold blood.

Ricky had just finished brushing Tinsley’s horse as he limped down the stairs. He noticed that Tinsley was tense and had a slightly crazed look in his eye.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Perfectly fine. How’s my wonderful horse Holly doing?” Tinsley hummed as he patted the side of her face.

“She’s great. You seem to take good care of her.”

Tinsley nodded and climbed onto his saddle, “She’s the only one who’d say that.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow, “She also told me you stink of horse shit.”

“Fuck you. I hope to never see you again Goldsworth, you’re a pain in the ass.”

Ricky nodded, noting that he looked much more relaxed now, “I kind of saved your life so how about a thank you next time.”

Tinsley paused, considering his options for a moment. However, he refused to give him the satisfaction, “How ‘bout no.”

Tinsley then rode off towards own his camp in the woods. Leaving Ricky to get hit by the chunks of mud that his horse kicked behind her.

As Tinsley stoked his fire that evening. He tried to figure Goldsworth out. Every time he came across another bounty hunter after he caught the criminal, they’d try to blow his brains out and steal the bounty themselves. The fact he escorted him back to town without trying anything was suspicious. He was convinced Ricky Goldsworth was up to something and hoped he didn’t cross paths with him again.

But Tinsley had been alive long enough to know things never go the way he wanted them to.

[semi-occasionally-writing-stuff]

Of Bullets & Blood - Chapter 1

Read on AO3 

Summary

C.C. Tinsley. A preacher’s son. Now a bounty hunter who will do whatever it takes to find who killed his wife and son.

Ricky Goldsworth. A former samurai running from his past. Now a bounty hunter trying to stay honourable in a land riddled with crime.

At first glance, these men were opposites in every way. However, through betrayal, blood, corruption, and the crimes of a serial killer, they will find that they have much more in common than they first expected.

Western/Samurai AU!

Chapter 1 -  The Honour of a Samurai

Now when Ricky first promised to his Father that he would always fight with honour. Face to face. To look his opponent in the eyes as he took their life. He did not consider that perhaps one day he would be face to face with 4 men armed with guns, all hellbent on blowing his head off from a considerable distance. So here he was. Hiding behind a boulder with his katana and bow, chips of rock falling into his hair, waiting for the right moment to strike, or waiting for a bloody death.

“C’mon you coward! Get your ass out behind that rock and face us like the warrior you claim to be!” one of the men cackled.

Ricky sighed. He knew he needed to come up with a plan before they realised that they could save their ammo by flanking him. He looked to his left and saw a bush next to a large oak tree.

“I could roll quickly and hide behind the bush and then move behind the tree, but I need a distraction first,” he muttered.

Ricky smirked as he remembered the small bottle of whiskey he bought from the general store a few hours earlier was still in his pocket. He was planning on drinking it after he dealt with the small gang, but he felt like getting shot was not the preferred alternative.

He quickly took out his handkerchief and stuffed it into the bottle, carefully lit a match and set it on fire.

“This better work,” he grumbled as he threw it blindly in the direction of the gunshots.

As soon as he heard the shatter of the bottle and the confused yells of the gang, he rolled quickly over to the bush, moving swiftly behind the tree, and drawing his bow and arrow.

Inhale. Aim. Exhale and let go.

The arrow made its home in the chest of the biggest one who had taunted him earlier. Ricky barely gave the others any time to react. 3 more arrows embedded themselves into the remaining men’s flesh and the forest returned to its natural silent state.

Ricky surveyed their small camp. Not much was there, a couple of coins, some provisions, and a few tents. He picked up the cans of food and pocketed the coins while trying to push away the guilt. He needed it more than them and it was bought with stolen money, so it didn’t really belong to them anyway. They were too busy being dead to use it after all.

He sighed as he took the bounty poster out of his pocket and walked over to the bodies of the 4 men.

“Joseph Adams…blonde hair, 6 ft 3, scar on his forehead. Does it always have to be the big ones I need to carry? Why can’t the mastermind be some 5 ft maniac instead?”

Ricky pulled the arrow out of Joseph’s chest and dropped it to the side. He then threw the man over his shoulder and started walking in the direction of his horse.  

He whistled and then yelled, “Francesca! Come here girl!”

Within a few seconds he could hear the sound of thumping hooves getting closer and soon saw the black horse he was calling for.

Ricky grinned as he stroked her face, “Hey girl, sorry for the wait. These boys didn’t want play nice. They never do.”

Francesca whinnied and bumped her nose against Ricky’s face.

“I know, I know! Let’s just drop him off at the Sheriff’s office, get our money and head home.”

Ricky draped the Joseph over the back of his horse, climbed up onto the saddle and started riding east towards the nearby town of Tombstone.

_____________________

“Got a dead Joseph Adams for you, Sheriff!”

Gordon Goondis had been the Sheriff of Tombstone for 15 years, he was in his 50s, had a massive grey moustache and was the sternest man Ricky had met in America.

Goondis gave him a once over and nodded, “Throw him out back. He make you work for it?”

“Don’t they always?” Ricky mumbled as he crossed the room, walked out the back door and dumped the body in the cart.

When Ricky walked back in, there was $45 sitting on the Sheriff’s desk.

“About time someone brought him in. Heard him and his gang had caused all sorts of trouble a town over. Did you deal with them too?”

“Yeah, they didn’t seem too happy to meet me,” He chuckled.

“Not many people are Goldsworth. Another poster should be up tomorrow. The Axeman this time,” Goondis sighed. He took out two cigars and offered one to Ricky.

Ricky nodded in thanks and took one. Lighting the Sheriffs and then his own, “You figured out who he is? I know he isn’t exactly good at killing his victims, but he’s been causing enough of a stir round here.”

“It’s the butcher, Billy Nelson. A couple deputies went to pick him up earlier today, but it didn’t go well. Mike ended up taking an axe to the shoulder. He’ll recover but Gene wasn’t so lucky. I would’ve gone after him myself, but I was tied up with another issue out of town. A damn shame,” Goondis sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

Ricky nodded and looked down. He knew what it was like to lose a friend. To lose the people you love. It was a part of why he did this. He didn’t need the money; he had taken enough with him from Japan to last him a lifetime.

“Sorry to hear it. I’ll see what I can do.”

The Sheriff stood, blew out some smoke and put his hand on Ricky’s shoulder, “Thanks son. The poster will be up at 8am, you’ll have some competition so make sure you ride straight for the bastard as soon as you get it. You may have only been taking bounties for 6 months, but there ain’t anyone else I trust more to take him down.”

“Got it. Thanks Sheriff.”  

Goondis grunted, patted his shoulder twice and walked out into the street. Leaving Ricky alone with his cigar and the $45 on the table.

Ricky liked Goondis, his mannerisms where similar to his fathers, it reminded him of home in a way. But he never really liked this part of the job. Taking the money felt like he was just some thug for hire. Like a Rōnin. The very thing his parents had taught him not to be. For if he were to become one, he would shame the family. But when Ricky thought back on what was left of his family, on the fact that the only thing connecting him to them were the weapons he used and that not even his name was something those that he left behind would recognise, the shame would subside enough for him to take the money and leave.

And if that night Ricky was plagued by nightmares of his father’s fury and the desperate pleas of his mother. He would never breathe a word of it to anyone. Sticking to the code of honour was the only thing that separated him from the criminals he hunted. Even if following that code led him to his death. It would be an honourable one and that would satisfy his spirit.