A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own, though I think David Tennant in a cowboy outfit would be a turn on.

This has been in my head a while, it's short like Lector Manor but very, very different. You can draw your own conclusions at the end about what's really happening. Don't really know what came over me :D

The Western lingo should be pretty easy to understand, but here's some reference if you can't figure it out:

Fetch - Give
Calaboose - Jail
Dinero - Cash
Don't care a continental - Don't give a damn
Pay through your nose - To over-pay, pay consequences
Four-flusher - A cheat, swindler, liar
Mom/ma - American-English for mum, if you didn't know :P

It's also probably wrong. But hey. At least I can try :)

Chapter 1 - John, Rosaline And Jacquetta

"Stop, Smith!"

John stopped immediately in his canter at the sound of the voice, turning his white steed back to face his challengers and instantly recognising the Lakeland Town Sheriff and four comrades, all mounted and looking ready for business.

"What can I do you for kind sir?" he asked with a broad, charismatic smile, tilting his cowboy hat back. "What a mighty fine day we're havin'!"

The Sheriff was not in the mood for small talk. Within an instant he had whipped out his pistol from its holster and pointed it straight at John's head.

"Kind sir, if you'd care to fetch me the cash you stole, nothin' more shall be said and you'll be free to leave. I'm pretty sure you don't wanna spend ya pretty years locked in calaboose – jail – now, do ya?"

John raised his eyebrows at the man, pausing slightly as he clicked his tongue in contemplation.

"Well Sheriff," he finally started, "for a start, the dinero, the cash, it weren't even yours. Now, I'm a kinda man that amounts to a Martyr and I don't believe in you so called 'men of authority' and your unfair scheme of justice. If you wanna throw me in calaboose then frankly sir, I don't care a continental."

The Sheriff seemed astounded by his retort, pointedly cocking back the hammer with a satisfactory chain of clicks.

"Then you're gonna pay through your nose."

John raised a hand to his nose, stroking it affectionately. "Oh but Sheriff sir, this nose has been with me my entire life."

"I ain't foolin', hand me the dinero!" he shouted, jerking the gun forward, silently warning him for the last time.

"Don't get your back up Sheriff." He grinned, subtly turning his horse back around in order to skedaddle. "You're a four-flusher, a cheat, you took the money from them and it weren't even fair."

"Nothing's fair, Smith." He smiled back at John, bearing all three of his yellow teeth. "I hope you've already got your gravestone."

He pulled the trigger.

"Rosaline darlin', we ain't gonna afford this house no more," Jacquetta Tyler told her only daughter at 5:55am, scanning the print of a final demand on a piece of paper for seven hundred dollars lying on the table. "We can't afford no food, never mind no loan payment."

"But momma," Rosaline protested as she hastily bunched back her long blonde hair in a tight bun ready for work that day. "I got us five hundred dollars, ain't they willin' to wait?"

She shook her head in a negative, gesturing redundantly at the paper infront of her. "It says they'll be 'ere to collect in two days, darlin', we ain't got the money."

"I'll find us the money momma," Rosaline insisted, pulling on her coat in preparation for the trek outside. "Even if it means offerin' ma services to the kindly men folk for a fee."

"Ain't no daughter of mine gonna sell herself," Jacquetta insisted, her 'motherly tone' instantly surfacing. "Ever since your dadda died we ain't got nothin' left honey – you can keep prayin' for a miracle but God ain't gonna smile on us sweetie."

She crossed the room to the doorway, pulling it open to go outside. "I can't believe in a miracle momma, but I can in coincidence." She smiled, stepping out into the bright dawn of sunshine to try and find some work for that day to reverse their ill fortune.

Jacquetta sighed a heavy sigh as if the entire world was resting on her shoulders, turning back around to the sink to wash up.

John was only just about supporting himself into sitting position as he clutched desperately at his chest, blood seeping out from between his fingers. Arthur, his white mount trotted obediently into the currently deserted town street, trying not to put his rider in too much distress.

Luckily the Sheriff had a bad aim – an extremely bad aim – and had instead of hitting him in the head he had shot him in the chest…which, when thought about, probably wasn't that much better. He had no way of telling exactly how much damage the bullet had done, the pain was too great to even move his head more than an inch.

"Are you alright, sir?"

John's breathing was stinted and desperate, his vision too blurred to see the one person standing infront of him, calling out in concern. He remained silent and still as Arthur came to a halt, stopped by the bystander.


He was barely clinging onto consciousness as the call came again, and he felt two hands pressing against the left of his ribs for support.

"Sir? Are you alright?"

He conquered with all his might against the blackness, trying in vain to lift his head to see his bystander. It was a girl's voice, definitely. If he passed out she could be in danger. He had galloped out of there as fast as he could – he thought he had lost them or they had left him for dead, but they may have followed him.


He couldn't help it. He felt himself slip unwillingly downwards to the girl, his entire chest cavity pulsating with agony – it was a wonder he wasn't screaming blue murder.

"Oh sir!" Rosaline gasped, only just about catching the man as he fell towards her limply off of his mount. She pulled him entirely off of the horse who merely 'neighed' in the events of his rider, nearly attempting to wander off but Rosaline was quick to stop him, reasoning she'd need him to take this man back to her house to give him aid.

Jacquetta would be mad, she knew, but she couldn't let this man just lay here and bleed to death – she wasn't that kind of person. Her heart was too soft to just wander on by.

She didn't know how she managed it, but within five minutes she was mounted on the horse, the mysterious injured man unconscious and lying back in her arms. She was aware he was close to dying – she could only hope she could get him back to her house in time.

She turned the horse back they way she had come, somehow forgetting about the need for money in concern for this man's life.

A/N: Like I said...don't know what came over me...