Note: Well, this is going to be different from us. And it all started from a picture that a good friend has sent us. We just had to write a story around the pretty “Indian Princess” Lol. And decided to do it in a funny manner.
Note 2: Like it’s always in our “Disclaimer” section, we respect any culture, person or custom that may appear in our stories and we wanted to emphasize it in a separate note that we especially respect the Native American tribe (the Ioways) that we will depict through these chapters. We’d also like to apologize for any factual or historical mistakes we might make, but this is just a comedy fiction, because we wanted to try out the Slipknot boys in such a setting too.
Fandoms: Slipknot, Korn.
Characters: Corey Taylor/Jim Root, Sid Wilson, Jay Weinberg, Shawn Crahan, Mick Thomson, Craig Jones, Chris Fehn, Alessandro Venturella, Jay Weinberg, Jonathan Davis, James “Munky” Shaffer, Reginald "Fieldy" Arvizu, Brian "Head" Welch, Maynard James Keenan, original characters
Rating/category: R (explicit), western AU, comedy, action/adventure, slash, M/M, funny, romance, violence, rough sex, some (kinda manly) fluff, first time, discrimination, secrets, forbidden love, traditions, shamanism, spirits, politics, wild west, fights
Summary: Iowa is a small dusty town in the middle of nowhere. And it’s in need of a new Sheriff to settle and keep the peace between white men and the Indians. But Sheriff Root – who comes from the big city – gets much more than he bargained for. Aside from his main task, he’ll have to deal with mysterious robberies, political battles in town and an unexpected attraction that would completely change the way he looks at Indians.
Disclaimer: This is a product of our imagination and was written only for entertainment and fun. We don’t profit from this fanfiction and we mean no harm or disrespect against any real person, culture or custom that might appear in the story. All original pictures used in the story belong to their respective owners and credits go to them.
By S.M.A. & Useless-girl
There are many great stories from the wild, early years of the west. Gun heroes and brave sheriffs fighting for the law, and their own claimed rights. But in the end many are centered around the thing that most fights and wars are born from. Love. And the attraction of opposites.
Our story is no different in that. Two different worlds collide and bend to the invisible force of attraction. One thing that no one can really understand or reason with. When the spirits see two people, whom they see deeper than any human sense can, attraction happens. And usually ignite a hell of a lot of trouble with it, bringing amusement to the holy ones watching over us.
Our story happened in the east, though... And started with the spirits showing their playful nature…
Three young Indian warriors were patrolling along the border of their territory. One was the Chief's son and older a bit than the other two.
The forest and prairie seemed calm that early morning. The Chief's son, called Coyote by his friends, was leading them around. His fair skin and ginger blond long curly hair differentiated him from the other two.
Jay on the other hand was a slim young kid, just past his warrior training, his small dark eyes shining with energy as his shoulder-long brown hair was being blown by the always present north wind.
The other warrior was named V-man. He was a respected fighter, something like a bodyguard as well for Coyote. His short hair was shaved at the sides and tribal tattoos on his skull showed for everyone that he was a respected warrior.
The tribe of the Ioway Indians lived near a small dusty white-man town. In somewhat peace. But for a year or so the small intrusions into Indian territory and robbing their goods from the meat dryers happened more often and the old conflict between natives and the newly settled people rose up its head again.
This tribe wanted peace. And they tried to keep that with patrolling more often at the borders and leaving their small totems on the line.
As Coyote, or Corey as his mother named him, put down the last small statue onto the borderline, he felt something. Lifting his head up, he sniffed into the wind and looked around. He’s always been a wild creature. Even among the 'wild men'.
"Something changed. The spirits will bring something in our way..." he spoke. "The wind blows in something from the East..."
Dust, heat and vast lands with little civilization around. That's what the young tall man saw from the window of the stage coach. And he couldn't hide the disgust and pout on his plump lips.
Nature was okay in general. But the long blondish-brown haired man was born and raised in the city. New York City, to be exact. He was used to that environment with its shops, taverns, book clubs, theater and underground clubs.
He was a police man, had his desk on the precinct to his comfortable desk job. He loved his life there.
But now because of a rumor he had to accept this job. Becoming the sheriff in the middle of nowhere. A small dusty town called Iowa with wild Indians as their neighbors. An ideal setting for someone like him to die from many possibilities.
At long last the very uncomfortable coach rolled into its destination. The town itself wasn't big. Only the most necessary buildings for a place like that to function. The saloon/brothel being the biggest building, of course.
But their destination wasn't that. The young man stepped out of the carriage, putting his new cowboy hat on his head, the wind that followed them from behind lightly playing with his long hair.
Adjusting his longish jacket and the gun on his side, he took a deep breath. Which was a mistake because he sneezed then coughed from the dust in the air.
"Here you go... Sheriff," the driver said putting the man's luggage to his legs, obviously fighting a laugh while looking at the young Sheriff blowing his nose.
Then he looked around, feeling the curious eyes of the few towns’ people on the main street.
"Well... Let's do this then..." he murmured to himself and nearly kicked his luggage over in his nervousness.
The Sheriff station wasn't big either. There were two rooms and two cells to the left. Unoccupied at this time. The stairs from the backroom – which was the Sheriff's office – led upstairs to a simple room in the attic where the new Sheriff would live.
But the tall man's attention first fell on his deputy sleeping on his desk in the front room. Snoring softly and... drunk?
Clearing his throat, he wondered what to do next. In his confusion he quickly wiped the dust off the star on his jacket. In the end he had to drop his bag on the floor to wake the man.
"Excuse me. Are you Deputy Sid Wilson? Name is James Root. Your new Sheriff. Nice to meet you."
The man lying on the desk jumped up from his drunken slumber from the sound. And with that kicked the chair out from under himself.
Cursing he knelt up and started to dust off his shirt. He looked right at the pair of shiny new boots and neatly ironed trousers. Deputy Sid Wilson slowly raised his head as he was kneeling on the floor and he could swore he was going to keep looking up at the man in front of him for long minutes without ever reaching up to his head... He even dropped back on his ass when he looked up finally at the – by the way very pretty and young-looking… maybe even girly – fucking tall man and he gave him a lopsided grin.
"My oh my! You've been out in the rain a lot, man!" he giggled and stood up slowly and slightly dizzy. "Sid Wilson. Yes, Mr. Root! Welcome to Iowa!"
After a quite girly giggle, Jim cleared his throat. "Thank you. Hm, maybe your perspective is fooling you a bit," he smirked down cutely at the man. "Call me Jim when we're alone. Can I call you Sid?" he asked. "Aaaanyways, you always drink while on duty?" he eyed the half-full whiskey bottle on the desk.
"Also, maybe you could show me where I could put my stuff before showing me around in town?" he suggested, trying to busy himself with something to feel less out of depth while standing there with his hands on his hips.
"Life is short, Jim. Especially at lands like this. Must survive somehow," Sid only commented with those wise words on the drinking, but he quickly put the bottle away. "Here we go, Sheriff. Up the stairs is the apartment for you. Don't mind me if I noticed, but you don't look like some of us small town folks," he blabbed along the way as he grabbed one of Jim's bags and was already on his way up the stairs. Moving fast like a rodent and squeaking also non-stop. "I have good eyes, ya know. Noting escapes me what happens around. That's why I'm the deputy," he said placing down Jim's bag before the desk upstairs and straightened his back with pride over his rank.
Following Sid upstairs with only his guitar case in hand, Jim straightened up too. Luckily the attic was high enough so he wouldn't hit his head in every turn. But... it was dusty and hot. With a few happy spiders hanging on their threads.
"Hm..." Jim hummed, looking around as he carefully placed his most treasured possession on the table on which there was only a slightly dusty and empty pitcher with a bowl under it. A small mirror for shaving on the wall, an old wardrobe, a shelf, a bed and a rocking chair. These were all the furniture in the "apartment".
"Good to know," he murmured about Sid's sharp eye. "I'm glad you are here to help me out as I'll try to keep the peace in this small town. You're right," Jim continued, putting his hands behind his back as he walked to one of the two windows to look down at his new home.
"You're right about that. I was born and raised in New York City. Never lived anywhere else, you see. So I'll need your valuable help," Jim thought out loud while looking down Main Street. The building next to the Sheriff's station was a barber shop, opposite he saw a general store that was selling everything from food to tools. He saw a smithy too among the simple houses and further down the street he saw a bank, a church and a post office. But the biggest building in town was definitely the saloon/brothel, as he saw earlier when they passed it.
"I aim to please, Jim," Sid giggled with a little bow. "Excuse me to note it also. But you are quite a... pretty looking man. It shows you lived in higher places than this," the deputy hummed to himself leaning against the wall.
"When you're done sightseeing, we can ride around. It is one of my duties to show you around and make you meet the town's main men. Peace is relative here from a while. Ya see, everyone came to this new world with reasons that were issues back in their homeland. Personally my grans were pirates… But in such town behind the back of God and law often the more rough or violent stays and survives. Sons of outlaws and fugitives. Not bad people. This town is nice and law is strong. But there aren’t such... fine and elegant people like probably in those circles you come from. Just sayin’… give them a chance to get to know ya. We’ve been waiting for a new sheriff who will sort out things with the Ioways…"
To that lightly teasing remark Jim looked at Sid from the corner of his eye, a small smile playing on his lips. The guy was kinda cute with his short chestnut-colored hair, which looked soft, but Jim was too focused on his tasks now that he was here than to think more into it at the moment.
Then he fully turned around, putting a hand on his hip which he dropped to the side a bit. "Well, first of all, thanks for the compliment. I guess. But from your words it seems to me that it was more... like a negative comment," he giggled a bit nervously. "Yes, I expected for this town to be full of rough men and women. After all, it's harder to make a living and survive in such harsher conditions," he mused. "It's true that this isn't what I'm used to, but I'll try my best to keep that peace..." he said as he headed downstairs so they could do the introductory rounds.
"So... we're gonna ride?" he asked a bit unsure and even more nervous while Sid led them to the back of the building where there was a stable with two horses. A brown and a white one.
"Nah, man. It was no bad compliment. Just stating the fact that some of the girls from the salon would kill to be as pretty as you. And maybe a warning to be careful. I'm not negative over it. But some of the though men around might take it that you're... soft and weak, ya know. They think different around here, these country men," Sid kept talking on their way.
At the stable grabbing the leash of the brown horse, he peeked at Jim from behind it from his question. "If yer in the country you have to blend in Mr. Jim Sheriff. You do know how to ride a horse, right?"
"I see," Jim murmured to Sid's explanation then wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his long thighs. "I'll try to keep your advices in mind. Thank you," he said, eyeing the calm white horse that did the same with him, moving her ears interested.
"I... errr... Well..." he cleared his throat, suddenly beat red in the clean-shaven face. "I know the basics. Rode a horse twice in my life, to be honest," he said, trying to remember how those... more or less successful events went.
"Good horse, I mean no harm," he said on a slightly nervous voice as he slowly reached a hand towards the animal's nose. Luckily she accepted Jim's approach and let him caress her. "What's her name?"
"His name is Prince. Don't worry he's very calm and obedient. Some fancy horse the last sheriff got himself from some fancy breeder. Ya see… Prince is not interested in the mares, just the studs... If ya get what I mean. So that friend of the last sheriff got him cheap, cuz he's no good to breed," Sid told while hopping into the saddle with ease, laughing a little. "Yeah no surprise there, though. But he’s a smart pedigree horse. And seem interested in you already," he added as Prince sniffed Sheriff Jim all over and made pleased murmuring sounds.
"Get up on him and let's visit the mayor."
Jim's inexperience with horses showed in the fact too that he thought at first that Prince was a mare instead of a stallion. Which only made the new Sheriff blush deeper under the rim of his cowboy hat. But at least it seemed Sid was right and the horse was accepting him.
"What exactly happened to the previous Sheriff? They didn't give me many details," he mumbled as he led Prince out of his stable. The irony wasn't lost on Jim about the animal's past, though. But he tried to focus on getting up into the saddle too. He didn't want to embarrass himself even more with leading Prince to the nearby fence so he could use it to help him get up on the horse's back.
He was quite proud of himself that it only took three tries to – more or less – do so. Or something. At least he didn't fall off on the other side. "I'll get a hang of it soon, I think," he informed Sid with a shrug after adjusting his clothes and wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Lead the way, I guess."
Sid was chewing on some tobacco peacefully and watched the attempts of the city boy in apathy. Just like Prince, who was standing there like a rock and bared it all.
Once the new man of the law got into the... head of the situation, so to say... Sid spit the tobacco out to the side and halted them. "Just a suggestion. If you don't mind, Jim Sheriff… It's fine to not be sure, but don't show it in front of these folks. So try to not say ‘I guess’ or ‘I think’ or any other words meaning you're hesitant. Not trying to lecture. Just tryna help out about how things goes around here," and with a nod at the end Sid turned his horse and started slowly riding down the main – and only – street of the town.
"To be fair with ya, I kinda like ya already, Jim Sheriff. Ya know, you’re almost double the height of some of the men here, like myself, for example. Ya have good vibes. Not a fighter officer type’s vibes. But a good honest person’s vibes. And I would hate to see you get hurt in this place because of your innocence," he started his by then usual yapping as they were riding. "You sit stable enough. Yer get a hang of it. You'll have to cuz there is no other way to move around here than by horse or foot," Sid giggled. "About the last lawman I will tell ya when we get back between just our ears. Get what I mean, Jim Sherriff?"
Clearing his throat again in his embarrassment, Jim tried to take a few deep breaths. He could do this. Sid was so very right. It was painfully clear to both of them. Even for the horses, probably. As if feeling what Jim was thinking, Prince huffed and moved his head up and down before starting to follow the other pair.
Oh well. He'd have time to freak out alone in his new home in the evening.
"Okay. Appear more confident, I guess... Fuck! Sorry. Err. I mean... More confidence. I can do that," he nodded to himself, adjusting his hat a bit as he tightened the hold of his thighs and knees on Prince when he thought he was starting to slide to the side in the saddle. "Thank you, really. For the tips. I appreciate them," he said. Because frankly, Sid could have been a pain in the ass with him. Instead he took a friendly approach. Well, maybe he wanted to reassure their future working relationship. After all they were going to work a lot together.
"Okay. I get it. We will talk about the late Sheriff later," he said, easing up a bit, his hips moving less stiffly along with the horse and he even straightened his back. By then more and more people were peeking at them from the street or the windows as they were headed towards the Mayor's office.
That shiny star did attract almost half the town out on their ride.
"See the peeps? They’ve been waiting for you, Sheriff. The Mayor is… let’s say a smart man who likes business. But keep it under the table… Ya got me? Be careful with him, Jim Sheriff. He is smart, just like I said. Smart to keep his hands clean. But people see and know things are not being spoken out loud, ya know. He wants all to call him Mr. Davis. And think highly of himself. Blaming all on the Iowans and not trying to keep peace but feud," Sid suddenly spoke on a low tone as they were riding close to each other.
Really he wanted this girly pretty sheriff to last. He felt like a good-hearted man. Even if he was a big town boy. That was not his fault, though he’s never been in the country... "I promised the last sheriff I help fix up things to be peaceful like it was back in a few years," he added looking meaningfully at Jim, implying that he already has a duty and a case for the new officer of the law.
Jim could see the interest of the people clearly, yes. Some tipped their hats, others just stared curiously or less obviously while the young man was listening to Sid once again. He was going to be his ear in town, that was already clear to him.
"I'll be careful with Mr. Davis then," he hummed, appreciating the warning and understood what Sid was suggesting. "I'll do my best to live up to the task, Sid," he promised with a serious and more determined look. He probably looked the most determined ever since he set a booted foot into town.
If the saloon was the biggest building in Iowa then the Mayor's residence was the second. As it was explained to Jim, the mayor usually saw the town people in his office but the rest of the building was his private property. "I can already see what you're talking about," Jim said, eyeing two rough-looking men on the porch. Probably the mayor's men.
Sid jumped off the horse tipping his hat to the two guarding men.
"Howdy, boys. Mr. Davis is waiting for us. Here is the new sheriff," he spoke simply. Not minding the men trying to look intimidating. Even somewhat playing on the 'drunk deputy' role before them, which he didn't do while talking to Jim. Tricky fucker that deputy was, knowing all but playing dumb.
Luckily Jim decided to get off Prince on the other side, so the horse's body more or less hid the slightly unsure moves while getting back on the ground. Why couldn't this Mr. Davis come out to meet them there? Seriously! He could've stayed in the saddle and spare another effort to get back on Prince after the talk. But oh well, life was kinda unfair. The young man has already learned that lesson. And from the look of it, it was going to stay like that in this rough town.
Putting on his best poker face, he tipped his hat to the men too, but otherwise stayed silent, trying to use his height too to look more respectable as he followed Sid into the impressive building with lots of nice wooden, stone and shiny surfaces. It reminded Jim of some of the places in NYC that he had visited during his life. It told him that Mr. Davis indeed liked money and comfort.
As they walked inside, Mr. Davis stood there before an impressive dark wooden desk in all his glory. He had longer black hair and a short beard. A tailor-made elegant black suit and a golden chain watch completed his look. His small dark eyes radiated sneakiness behind the friendly smile.
"Ahh. The new Sheriff. Nice to meet you! This town is in great need of the law," the man said somewhat lisping and not announcing his name. Like some highness he expected to be known or someone other to do that for him.
The deputy made a meaningful side-glimpse at Jim, like saying 'see? That's what I was taking about' but to Davis he forced a smile stepping between the two men.
"It's my honor to represent Mr. Davis, Iowa town's Mayor. Mr. Davis, this is Sheriff Root. Just arrived," Sid spoke rather sober and intelligent. On purpose announcing Jim's name and rank at the same level as the mayor's.
The new sheriff noticed that look and sent and understanding one back at Sid then turned his attention to the smug-looking mayor. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Davis," he said shortly, not really good with small talk, but he tried to look confident as he offered his big hand – that was not hardened by callouses like would be expected from a sheriff or someone doing physical work. It was no surprise though, given his previous desk job.
As they shook each other's hand firmly, Jim's hazel eyes narrowed a bit as he tried to size up the man in front of him. Now that he had some background info, he could see the signs and wasn't so lost like he usually would be.
"You have a nice town here. I'm looking forward to keep it safe and working with you," Jim added, not really sure what else should be said in such a situation.
"Certainly, Mr. Root. If you have any concerns or questions, please don't hesitate to contact me. The sheriff is always welcomed on my doorstep when it comes to the safety of our people and property. Especially when our... unfortunate neighbours, the Indians try to stir up things for our peaceful town."
Meanwhile not far from the mayor and the sheriff, in the small Iowan Indian village the three warriors arrived from their patrol.
In the Chief's tent Corey found the head hunter smoking pipe with his father. The tall muscular guy, named Mick Thomson was a friend of the Indians and often stopped by to bring news.
The Chief, a grey-haired warrior called Shawn by most, nodded towards his son to join them.
"We found everything fine, father," Coyote said raising his right hand up showing his palm as a greeting to the bounty man.
"Good. Take the horses to the woman, son," Shawn said and looked after his half-breed kid as he walked out to do as he was told.
"I'm worried about him sometimes, Mr. Mick. Fate of the ones like him is often mysterious and hard," the Chief sighed taking the pipe and sucked on it.
"You mean being half-blood or your two-spirit people? Though, I guess the fact that he is both doesn't really help. You told me that two-spirit people are closer to the spirits and are more connected to that world. And considered sacred. The spirits will bring his pair into his way," Mick thought out loud. The nice herbs in the pipe were buzzing in his system and made him calm and maybe also wiser. "But there are many changes in town now. What your son said about the east wind... A new Sheriff arrived today early noon from New York City. Gonna meet him tomorrow morning. Hopefully he will be a sane person with reason and not bow into corruption."
"We all hope till we live Mr. Mick," Shawn said giving the pipe back to the other man.
Mr. Mick Thomson Chief Shawn
Back in town the short visit by the mayor was over, leaving Jim with more confusion and bad feelings about the guy. Just how far does his hand reach? That was something he was planning to find out later. But now they had to go and meet with some of the other more important people of the town.
Luckily they could leave the horses in front of the mayor's house since their next stop was the nearby bank and they went on foot. That gave some time for the new Sheriff to look at and memorize more faces of the people among whom he'd have to live from now on.
As they passed the saloon, he heard music and laughter coming from inside and for a moment he longed for a strong drink, but that thought was wiped out of his mind as a couple of women and men peeked out or outright stared at him from the porch. He tipped his hat to the ladies then the men, but otherwise followed Sid to the bank.
There were two people sitting behind a bigger barred window, writing some administrative things down into big books. Then a well-dressed bearded man with glasses and a hard hat on hurried down the stairs, checking his golden watch with a chain to check the time.
"Time is money, ladies. Keep working while I run some errands," he said to the women behind the window and headed towards the door when he noticed the two men of law standing there. "Ah. Gentlemen. How can I help you?"
"Err Mr. Jones! I brought the new Sheriff to meet you. He is Mr. Jim Root. Jim Sheriff, this is Mr. Craig Jones, the bank man of the town," Sid announced. Making the banker peek at the tall young sheriff over his glasses.
"Nice to meet you! My workers got everything ready for your account. When you have time, but preferably tomorrow morning you should sign the papers. Time is money, you know. You will get your salary through us."
"Nice to meet you too. And it's good to know you have things under control," Jim said after shaking hands with the busy-looking banker. Although Jim wondered in such a small town what might make him look so busy and short on time.
"I see you're a man of many tasks. We won't hold you up. I'm sure we'll meet soon," Jim added then exchanged a look with Sid if it was okay for them to leave since Mr. Jones looked like he was supposed to be somewhere else already.
"I appreciate that. Time is money, you know," he repeated himself. From that Jim realized that probably that was his life philosophy.
When Sid nodded, Jim followed him outside and took his pipe out of his pocket to stuff and light it, taking a few puffs. "Nervous little fella, isn't he?"
"Who is fishing in stormy water often gets stirred up in many ways," Sid shrugged and fetched a small bottle from his jacket and drank from it. One might think Sid has been raised by Indians for always making such cryptic comments. But with a man like him anything could be possible.
"We can lead the horses over to the saloon. There you can get on Prince without people watching. No offence. Yer get into it. Just tryna help, Mr. Jim Sheriff."
"You're probably right about that," Jim hummed watching as Mr. Jones disappeared from their sight then he took a deep breath. He really should start practicing this whole horse thing if he wanted to look more confident and less like the "young and innocent" kinda bait his pretty features and long hair suggested. He was... more than that, but in other ways than these rough people of Iowa.
Anyways, Jim thanked Sid again and managed to get on Prince with only a little effort before they headed back. He also admitted to himself that he kinda liked Sid's unusual way of addressing him. It was kinda cute.
"So..." Jim sat down on the only chair in front of the deputy's desk, putting two relatively clean glasses down on the table, right next to the brand new bottle of whiskey he'd purchased during their brief look around in the saloon before they headed back to the sheriff's office. "Tell me more about these Indians and the fate of the previous sheriff. I think there's more to those than you told me before."
Sid's eyes shined up from the bottle of booze and he licked his lips and nodded as Jim poured his glass full.
"Cheers to that Mr. Jim. And to you. Long life!" he added and drowned a good half of the strong liquor. "The Ioways lived here all around this north east land. They are Siouan related. Not as violent, though. The Chief has a half-blood son and had the widow of one of the farmers for a wife. They’re guarding their remained land's border and many speaks English well. For about a year or so more and more fights happened between the farm peeps and the Iowans. Small shit issues on both sides and none of them admitting who's done them," Sid explained with a shrug.
"The last sheriff and I heard rumors about some gangs causing it all to cause feud. And the old sheriff did found somethin' cause he left this note before we found him on the church yard with a cut throat," the deputy pulled a paper out of his pocket, giving it to Jim. The messy and clumsy – clearly written in a hurry – handwriting read 'Keep the connections, Sidney. Don't tell no one just who is trustworthy. I went to Washington to make sure of some construction plans. Keep Prince in shape.'
Jim drank his fair share too from the first glass, but no one could blame him after such a day. It was already more adventure for him than what he was used to in his much calmer life. Damn, he was a god damn sheriff now. And he had no clue what that meant.
It was a good reason to drink with this strange but friendly guy on the other side of the desk. Either way he listened to what he was saying about the Indians and the previous sheriff and even took the note to read it. To be honest, it didn't tell him much yet since he was so new to this all and his head started getting dizzy from all the new information too.
"So he was executed, probably because he got too close to something. I assume you want to investigate his death if you haven't already. I mean... I don't know if the culprit was caught or not. Let me guess, the Indians were blamed?"
Sid rolled his eyes dramatically and snorted. "Of course. Who else would be. The poor man was even scalped to make it sure the Ioways get the blame. I do not believe that at all, Jim Sheriff. And my friend, a head hunter and I’ve been trying to find out things. You will meet him too, Mr. Jim Sheriff. Now I have to go ‘round the town. I suggest you try some rest," Sid stood up with a nod.
"That was the easier way, I guess... I mean. I'm sure," he cleared his throat before drinking some more from the strong whiskey. It was already warming his tummy, which was a welcomed feeling. "Seems like we'll have a busy day tomorrow too. Okay, go do what you have to do. I'll be around," he nodded to the other man then watched him leave.
He poured another big glass of the amber liquid to himself and tried not to panic. He had to stand his ground, he thought and stumbled a bit as he stood up. Well, better than that.
He decided to distract himself before bed and found himself wandering to the stables in the back, drink in hand as he approached the now unharnessed horses.
"Hey, Prince. What a day, huh?" he chuckled dryly while patting the nose of the horse and even let him lick into the rest of his whiskey. "You could use a drink too, huh? At least you won't have to uncover a mysterious murder and keep peace between us and the Ioways. You're one lucky bastard, did you know that?" he grinned at the horse who huffed in response as if understanding what he was saying. And who knew? Maybe he did. Jim wouldn't be surprised about such a thing any more. Not in a crazy town like this.
It was sundown at the Indian village too. The ginger young warrior, followed by his guard, was smoking some dried bird bones in the changed East wind. Being close to the spirit world was natural for him ever since he was born. And learning from the tribe's shaman only improved his skills to feel into what may come. Among his people Corey counted sacred, a person who was attracted to his same sex. A two-spirited person who was watched and guided closely by the holies.
V-man's personal duty was to keep the young man safe. And man, it was a full time duty even for such an experienced and dedicated warrior. The 'Coyote' often had his head in the clouds and followed his instincts more than reason. This feud was bothering the red-haired Indian more than anyone else from the tribe. Probably because his pale-skinned late mother. He really was between worlds in many meanings.
"Two days," he said to his guard, looking in the direction of the white men's town. "Two days at sunrise. The spirits have spoken," he added with a small smile.