All-Fired - Part I

Disclaimer:
Many characters portrayed in this story are the creations of various role players from All-Fired County. Credit goes to them.
Any questions about AFC, drop me a line.

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          Seven years. Seven years he stayed away from his past, his life, and who he used to be. Seven years he pushed it all to the back of his mind. Tristan didn't want to come back. It wasn't too late to turn around, was it? He could still turn the horse around and run back to the coast, right? He wondered, but still the town slowly grew larger toward him.
          With an uneasy glance at his cousin, Tristan was telling himself every reason and a half that they should turn back. Every time, it would be retorted by what she had said to him that convinced him to get back to the county in the first place.
          "This town doesn't look very secret," Lamora looked over the width of the small city as they came upon it.
          "Very astute," the man glance back at her again. "I'm stopping to grab a bottle. A little drink I can't find anywhere else." That was true, but only half the reason they were coming to Cheyenne first. Really, he was stopping to see if he'd be recognized with this thick goatee (or face ferret, as both he and Lamora called it) he wore. If the lady he was going to see didn't recognize him, no body, but one, would know Mustang Turner was back in town.

         Auralee Danson shifted from left to right across the bar, enjoying the usual midday business. Whatever drunk remarks or comments flew her way, she'd shoot back with a witty reply or rejection. She was good at this. It was her life. She never missed a mark, greeting each new person that leaned against the bar, meeting them not with two seconds a delay.
         "What can I getcha, stranger?" She leaned against the counter the same way he did, studying his eerily familiar face.
         "Your special mix. In a bottle, please," he winked at her, refraining from a smirk. "I hear it's somethin' to talk about."
         Aura tilted her head. "You must know some interestin' men to know about it." She turned to grab a set of alcohols used to make the drink, looking up at him several times. "Do I know ya, sir?" Aura knew she had to. And she was so close to figuring it out.
         Well, obviously he wasn't very recognizable with this stupid goatee. Waiting a moment, the man glanced around. No one was paying attention to them. Then, leaning in as if he were about to whisper a secret, he smirked at her. Auralee almost dropped what she held, eyes widening at him.
         "Tristan?!" Her voice lowered, but raised in excitement at the same time. That smirk of his was trademark, recognizable anywhere at anytime. "We all thought you dead!"
         The smirk ran away, his face suddenly somber as he gave half a half-hearted chuckle. "I should be." It was a matter of fact sentence.
         "What do you mean by that?" She set the bottle of her unnamed drink (which was difficult to get in the bottle) on the bar counter.
         "Exactly what it sounds like," he grabbed it, "Credit?" Aura nodded lopsidedly while he turned and left the saloon, thoroughly believing she'd just given alcohol to a ghost. That seemed to be Tristan Turner. But that wasn't the Big Stallion of the Turner Canyon Brothers.
         Outside, Tristan looked up at Lamora, who squinted back at him under her large, floppy hat. "I can't smile 'til I shave."
         He paused after shoving the drink into the saddle bag, staring at the bay horse he was about to mount. For a moment, he expected his black giant, not this scrawny Arabian. He mounted anyway, shaking it off. He was ready to leave Cheyenne, but another bullet from Memory Lane was intent on hitting him.
         "The Liberty Shop..." Lamora read a rusty old sign after her eyes wandered down the road. Bam.
         Tristan glared at her like she had betrayed him.
         "What?" Her eyebrows furrowed innocently.
         "Nothing," he pressured the horse onward, not about to talk about it again with her. Nothing seemed to have been done with Colette's shop. It felt like it had only been let alone to poke at him when he finally came 'round, to remind him of his biggest mistakes. He shouldn't have lingered around her after that first day at the river. He shouldn't have let himself ever fall in love. He should have stayed the same old, ornery Tristan. Look where they both ended up: dead and lost.
         "So, where's this Lukas guy?" Lamora kept at his side, eager to 'meet' the man in question.
         "All in due time." Tristan didn't want to rush it. Truth be told, he had several bullets with 'Lukas Harrison' etched on their sides. But even Tristan Turner, the man without restraint, had to restrain himself from immediately seeking him out.


         Staring up at the walls of the canyon, various excitements swelled in his chest. He still didn't want to come back to his old life, believe it or not. Tristan was happy with not being everything he aspired to be anymore.
         He listened for the familiar sounds of dogs and coyotes as they advanced through Turner Canyon, aptly named for the family that first infested it. Lamora looked around, wondering what he was listening for. Of course she was unaware of how the TCB communicated. 'Arh arh arh arh' came a quick set of barks, Tristan smiling under the cover of of his dark hat as they echoed along the canyon walls. One or two men would be out to confront them at anytime now, them being 'strangers' and all. Before that happened, though, a long, bird-like whistle took its shrill turn to echo about the air. That was a Black Rider call, used in their forest. Why was he hearing that?
         When the two came close to Arriesgue el Pueblo, they were finally met by a couple of men still very familiar to Tristan, Ben Arrow and Aiden Gallagher. The sight of the latter made him tense, gripping the reigns to his horse until his knuckles turned white.
         "Have you business here?" came Aiden's Irish brogue, obvious that he didn't recognize his old boss.
         "I do," Tristan took advantage of this, duplicating the man's accent, "I'm here to see the Tristan Turner."
         "Tristan is dead," Aiden retorted.
         "That seems to be the rumor," Lamora grinned knowingly at them, getting a feel for the people around here.
         "Then why do you want to see him?" Ben shifted in his saddle, more curious than annoyed. "I mean, why are you still asking?"
         "Benefit of the doubt," Tristan shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "Then, the Miss Sades perhaps?" He was smiling inside, knowing that if his sister heard he just called her 'miss,' she'd probably hit him.
         "What business have you with her?" Aiden was persistent. Were that sometime more than seven years earlier, Tristan would've been proud of this questioning act the Lead Gawk was keeping up.
         "Same business as with Tristan," he cleared his throat, convincingly a stranger to the men, "Now... if you don't mind..."
         Aiden grumbled a Gaelic curse, reluctantly turning his horse around. Ben followed in suit, without the frustrated saying, and the newcomers followed them. Every so often, the Irish man would glance back at them, and Tristan would give him a strange, odd, and goofy smile in return (using all his effort).
         Riding through el Pueblo, he notice one huge change in the outlaw haven: more women. Many more. Not that he minded women in the town. It just most of them wore black scarves draped around their neck. That was the usual tell-tale of the Black Riders; they hid their faces in heists and whatnot so they could go through real cities without being a recognized bandita. Tristan didn't like the idea of those ladies taking refuge in his town.
         But he didn't mind seeing one bandita, whose official call was La Bandita, as they passed a small saloon was Bella San Salvador, whom Ben broke from the group to meet. She glanced up at the passers by and Tristan covered a bit of his goatee, winking at her. Bella didn't give much of a comprehensive reply, she just stared.

         "Stay here, I'll get Mercedes," Aiden pointed at them, as if reinforcing his command, before turning to walk into the old Turner house. 'Yeah, uh huh.' Tristan thought, dismounting the horse. He just walked inside, Lamora close behind. It was his house after all.
         Enjoying their conversation were two women sitting at the dining table until the three walked in, when they sat up. The first was Mercedes, platinum haired and skinny as ever, and the other, much again to Tristan's dismay, was Maria Willows, of all people. Sades' already large eyes grew even wider when she saw her brother step in, and she was the first person to receive a real smile from him in a long time. She knew her brother.
         Wasting no time, he turned to the hallway, at the end of which was a staircase. His cousin kept silently in tow.
         "Hey! Where are you-"
         "Aiden, don't be stupid," Sades burst up from her chair to follow Tristan. "He has a right to his own room." That left Aiden dumbfounded, starting to get an idea of what was going on.
         Tristan really was heading for his old room, which, to his surprise, was exactly the same. The first thing he did was head to the bathroom, more than ready to get this animal off his face. Mercedes caught up to him before that, however, and stopped him in his tracks to turn him back around and give him an unrealistically tight squeeze of a hug.
         "I missed you!" she almost shouted, burying her head in his chest.
         "Missed you too, kid," he smiled again,"Can you believe no one recognized me?"
         "It could be cause of this thing," she looked up, tugging on his whiskers, "But its still amazing. It's not like my big, ugly brother is that hard to pick out." He chuckled, messing up her hair before going back to the bathroom and Mercedes suddenly became aware of Lamora, turning to her. "Who are you?"
         "Lamora Hacke," she titled her head, "I didn't know you have a sister, Tristan."
         "Neither did I," came his amused voice from behind the half closed door, "until I was about twenty-four."
         "Lover?" Sades' brows furrowed. That'd be good for him, especially after seven years.
         "Ew, no. Cousin." Lamora's furrowed as well, though a corner stayed up.
         "Oh, cousin... Cousin?" Mercedes looked at the door. "We have cousins?"
         "Just her and her brother... as far as I know. Hackes. You remember those pirate stories we heard a lot?"
         "That's you?" Sades turned back to her, eyebrows now risen. When Lamora shrugged, she grabbed her hand, shaking it furiously. "Well, it's an honor to meet you! and to have you as family."
         "Are these, uhm, 'stories' distorted out here?" Lamora called to Tristan, who stifled a laugh, muttering 'probably.' A moment later, he came out looking like he'd never gone anywhere, carrying the same air. As he emerged, he immediately set for the hallway, then the downstairs.
         "Where are you going now?" Sades followed him for a couple steps, curious at his hurriedness.
         "To try and screw with people." Yes, Tristan already acted like his old, pre-Colette self.
         Downstairs, he cleared his throat, entering the kitchen dining area.
         "Tristan!" Both Maria and Aiden jumped in their seats. Both looked like they were seeing a ghost.
         "I'm dead?" The man looked more amusedly inquisitive than most would if they found out they were dead. He only left with out telling anyone. Why would they think he was dead?
         "You disappeared," Aiden was up first, "After three years we-"
         "Taking a liking to my town, huh?" Tristan turned to Maria, crossing his arms.
         "It's like I said, Turner," she smirked, leaning back in her chair, "Your boys love my girls."
         "Your girls stooping to my boys, though?" He sounded in disbelief.
         "A lot's changed 'round here," Aiden sounded defensive, a submissive yet dominant gleam in his eyes.
         "Well, fill me in," Tristan pulled out a chair, putting his butt in it and propping his boots up on the table, staring straight faced back at him. "I'm most curious about the Riders."
         "We teamed up," Aiden slowly braced himself, expecting Tristan to burst out of his chair at any moment. "We needed to..."
         "Needed to- Sades let you do this?" He folded his hands instead, twiddling his thumbs.
         "There isn't much she could have done, even if she was against it. Either way, the Brothers and Riders are much bet-"
         "You a Turner?" Tristan's eyebrows raised slightly in his question. He just got a blank stare in return "Last time I checked, this ain't the Gallagher Brothers. See, now I've only been back ten minutes, but I think you two did it to make your whole love affair a lot easier, not that it was very hard in the first place." He turned to Maria again. "I know the girls must hate the Lead Gawk in I'towana, though. How'd they enjoy taking over?"
         "Ihanktowana," she glared him for a moment, hating the way he always mispronounced the village's name, but then her voice and face turned to a teenage defiance, "And they loved it."
         "Finally!" Tristan just about jumped in his seat. "I get a normal reaction outta someone." Without a word, or any other provocation, stood and headed out the door, a brooding look on his face that. Another bullet for Tristan, for it was something else that made him think of Colette. Them being cousins, they shared the same unhappy face.
         "Hate us that much, do you?" Maria crossed her arms, firmly planted in her seat.
         "No, I hate him that much," he leaned in, "You're the one who hated me, chica."
         "Give him a break, Turner," her eyes narrowed.
         "Why should I?" He crossed his arms, leaning on the table. "He's lucky I didn't kill him before I left." Tristan then stood himself, Half of Colette's fate was a result of her cousin.
         No, he didn't come back to pick a fight with Aiden... but it wouldn't be too hard to start one.
         Sighing frustratedly, he turned around, turning to the hall, but the staircase wasn't his destination this time. Instead, he went through what looked like a mini-living room to a door that lead to the stables, kicking the couch on his way out. This too took him eight years back. He hated the fact that everything reminded him of her. Then again, what did he expect?
         That's why he left in the first place. Not that he was running from Harrison.
         Just as he stepped out of the shadow of the house and into the late afternoon sun, Tristan was greeted by a very loud and shrill neigh from a very excited horse. Not too many moments later, a larger, black horse came bounding toward him. Another man would have dove out of the way of such a beast, but not him. No, this was Savvi, his horse. No one else could control him, not even Sades who gave him all the carrots he could eat. Carrots were his favorite treat. Prancing around him, the horse nickered excitedly before putting his head on Tristan's shoulder, who in turn rubbed the old guy's neck. Savvi must have been sixteen by now, though he looked and acted as if he were still three.
         "Holy shit, it's Tristan," Ben rode by, Isabella close behind. Tristan just gave them a 'surprise!' smile, nodding. He should've expected everyone to gawk at him like he was some spirit from beyond the grave. If only one thing had stayed the same with him... he still expected to be expected.


         "Dad!" a small boy shouted, running up the main street to the sheriff's office. His father sat on the shaded porch fixture, his dark hat covering most of his scruffy face. He hardly heard the boy.
         "Lukas!"
         "What is it," Lukas snorted after he was woke from his involuntary nap. He just stared down at the unearthly bright-eyed boy that stopped to catch his breath.
         "Some scout-" he spoke through heaves of air- "wants you. Says it's- important."
         The six-year-old boy was Allister Harrison, a surprise to everyone. With the sheriff/mayor's personal reputation, no one would have expected that any woman would stick around for that... and longer. As much as anyone tried to pry in, no one knows the story to his existence. Two things are for sure: Allister is Lukas' apparent son, his mother is a blonde woman who is almost as elusive as the whole story.
         "What does he want?" Lukas stood quickly, as if he expected it, looking off in the direction from which the boy came with a furrowed and raised eyebrow.
         "He didn't tell me," the boy shook his head, "He just said-" imitating a deep voice to the best of his ability- "'Run fer yer dad, boy! It's important!' and then ran off outta town again."
         Lukas didn't understand. What could be so damned important that the man would come see him himself? Guess he'd find out soon enough. As he untied his horse from the hitching post, his eyes were fixed down the street, focusing as far down the hill it led as he could.
         Instances like this were rare, Lukas' confusion being a tell-tale sign of that. The last time this happened, Lead Gawks of the Turner Canyon Brothers were spotted out and about. The scouts wanted to keep an eye on the boys while word was sent to Harrison. Obviously, they weren't smart enough to try and take down the outlaws; they lost them.
         But that was years ago, and the TCB have laid low for the majority of those years.
         That brought a smile to Lukas' face. It couldn't have been the Brothers, so clearly the Black Riders were in question. Raven Willows herself would be even better- he was dying to take another stab at her. Any of her ladies would suffice though. If what he knew about those women was right, they would definitely plan a rescue. His mind was tingling with ideas and scenarios, that smiled turning into a wicked grin. He wanted to put that woman and her girls in their places.
         "Sir!" Apparently, the scout hadn't gone too far out of town. Smart move.
         "What so important?" Lukas straightened on his mustang, bring him to a trot then halt next to the other man.
         "A few of us have been tailin' a couple'a strangers that showed up in the county this morn-"
         "And," he snorted, hoping he didn't get called out for a citizens report.
         "And one'a them looked familiar to us," the scout swallowed, easily intimidated by the sheriff/mayor's demeanor. "We think e'was Mustang Turner."
         Lukas' knuckles would have been seen white were he not wearing gloves over them when he doubled his grip on the reigns of his horse. "What?" He managed to keep a controlled voice.
         "Only saw 'im from the side but... We think one of them is Tristan Turner." There was a long moment of silence between the scout and him as he took a long glance over the open area, then looked back at the scout, who tentatively added: "The other two saw them ride into the canyon, which makes us think it really is him."
         "The other person?" Lukas' eyes began to wander in frustration. How could Turner be back? This was... impossible!
         "Some woman. We couldn't say who."
         Another wicked smirk appeared on the face of Lukas. She would love to hear that. "Keep after them. See if you can get a proper answer- who they are. Report back to me." He turned the horse back around, about to kick it into gear back toward town. "My office next time."
         This was bad. This was good.