A/N: Yes, people, I know. I know you’re all wanting another chapter of Painted Love and you may get one soon but the truth is I was getting a little bored with it so wanted to drift away. So here is my revamped version of my old story ‘Should not be’. Yep. A Gay Western. I went there. Not all Brokeback Mountain and stuff. Nope an 1800’s Western romance that just happens to be gay. Hoorah. Anyway, let me know what you think.

Read. Review. Enjoy…. Key word there is review.

Chapter One

Chase Gibson scowled, his narrowed eyes fixed heatedly on the youngbuck a few yards away. He’d been forced to this, force to face off against the kid or be called a coward. Being a well-respected fastgun around these parts he couldn’t very well let it get out that he was getting soft. Such and accusation would no doubt triple the amount of glory seekers out there waiting to knock down a seasoned gunslinger. Hell, he already had duels every other week, he just couldn’t afford one every damn day!

“Come on, fastgun!” the kid taunted, tapping his finger’s against the butt of his gun, a cocky gesture that was intended to intimidate one’s opponent.

Chase wasn’t intimidated but then pissed off wasn’t too far off the mark. Damn the kid for this, for forcing him into something that would no doubt label him a baby-killer. He was a lot of things but didn’t go in for the killing of children. Still he wouldn’t forfeit, to do so would be suicide in his line of work and he’d soon have every slinger out these ready to bust his ass open. And he damns sure couldn’t lose for no doubt the boy would kill him surer than shit. He simply had no choice but to duel it out.

“I aint gonna take it easy on you just cause you’re young and stupid,” he drawled out, his voice intentionally low in an attempt to cover up his anger. Any shown emotion was a weakness and as far as this kid was concerned he should be a stone.

“Come on, Billy! Don’t pay him no mind!” A voice, no doubt from the boy’s little posse, called out. “Yer the one to do it! Take him down!”

Billy, who had paused a moment at the man’s warning, quickly perked back up when reminded of his friend’s watching. Pride winning out over fear, he took his stance.

Chase followed suit.

1…2…

Bang!

Chase shook his head as the kid toppled to the ground, his body stirring up a sizable cloud of dust. He had waited until it was absolutely necessary to draw, waiting for the kis to do in and hoping like hell he’d back out at the last moment. Torn between killing or making an enemy, the decision was drawn from his just as soon and surely as Billy’s gun was drawn.

Billy groaned in pain, his hand clamped over his shoulder in a vain attempt to ease the pain. “Oh, God…” he gasped out, clearly unbelieving of his loss and terribly disturbed by the blood his wound was spilling.

Lord, he was getting soft, Chase mused as he backed away from the gathering crowd and into a nearby saloon. Settling at the bar, he angled his seat so he could watch the door and watch out for any pissed posse members that may barge through.

“That was fast,” Mac, an elderly bartender and the closest thing Chase had to a friend in this world, set a rag-cleaned glass before him and quickly filled it with whiskey. He may not have known too much about the slinger, but he did know that after a duel he usually preferred a stiff one. “Didn’t know you had it in ya, Gibson.”

“What’s that?”

“A conscience.”

“I don’t.”

“I see,” he said as he refilled Chase’s glass, “I guess it’s that revolver’s soft conscience that saved that idiot kid from a wooden box.”

Chase shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe my sights off.”

“Ah, horse shit. I aint never seen you miss a damn thing. You meant to spare that kid and don’t you be giving me some nonsense excuse about it.”

“Maybe so,” he gave in. “But I’m the idiot for doing it, Mac. That kid and his fool friends are gonna be gunning it for me now.”

Funny, he had no sooner finished that sentence than a kid looking much like Billy burst into the saloon. Obviously older than, Chase assumed, his brother and still the kid couldn’t be more than nineteen. He’d kiss his own ass if he were older than that.

“You son of a bitch!”

Chase recognized the voice as the one who had cheered the kid on, encouraging him to kill another. Damn, things always got messy when family was involved.

“You could have killed him!” he screeched.

“Yeah,” he allowed, “But I didn’t.”

“Why you cocky bastard!”

“Look, kid,” he stood, walking closer to tower over the kid. Having noticed the lad’s twitchy fingers at his gunbelt, he was doing his best to try intimidation as the last thing Mac wanted was a shoot out in his bar and Chase didn’t want to have to feel guilty about it if it did happen. “I warned your friend-”

“Brother!”

“Brother and he kept up with his shit. I won’t do the same for you.” With that he left, the saloon doors swinging to and fro at his exit.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Not such a cocky fucker now, are ya?”

Chase groaned as his stomach was given yet another swift kick. He had been beaten and pummeled for what seemed like hours but of course was no doubt a few minutes. The little bastard’s gang had caught him in the midst of pulling up his breeches, immediately giving him a swift knock to the head with a none too small stick. No sooner had he hit the ground, precariously close to his own body waste, did they drag him across the lightly wooded terrain only to stop and tear into him again.

Lord, his body hurt. He honestly thought a bullet would be preferable to this. Oh, he’d taken his fair share of ass whippings and had dished out more than a few himself. But when twelve people decided to gang up on one, well, that usually left a mark. The fact that there were twelve helped sooth his pride a bit. What man could hold up beneath a dozen men?

“Get over here, Billy! Show this sumbitch what for.”

Billy came forward, his face still pale and arm in a dingy white sling. “You sure ‘bout this Johnny? We dun had out fight fair and square.”

Johnny scowled something awful. Well, it looked like a scowl anyway but Chase couldn’t be sure, he’d been hit on the head to many times this night to hope to see clearly.

Moving swiftly over to his brother, Johnny grabbed his by one ear and pulled him over to Chase. “He hurt you, you ass. And cause of that hurt out gang. He aint suppose to be just let go!” Reaching down, he pulled his gun free of his holster, immediately shoving it into Billy’s good hand. “An eye for and eye.” That said he assisted his brother in shooting a bullet through Chases right shoulder.

“Goddamn it!” Chase barked out, gripping his shoulder much like Billy had the week before. It hurt, no doubt about it, but he’d been shot before and knew pressure slowed the blood flow and had it stopping sooner.

“There. Guess you aint no fastgun no more.”

Funny how the only thing Chase could thing of before he was thoroughly knocked out by the but of Johnny’s gun was just how the fool kid’s could have failed to notice he was left handed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Heath Moore grunted and strained but eventually came through and after twenty very tiring minutes of pulling the wounded man off his horse and into his small home, he finally managed to drop him on the bed. Damn but the man seemed to be made of lead for he saw no sign of fat on the fellow. Moving away from the bed, he quickly washed his hands before he set out to boil water and find fresh wraps for his wound Having done these things he immediately returned to the bed and set about the task of stripping the larger fellow so he could properly see to his wound.

He had come across the fellow whilst taking the short cut from his neighbors land to his own. Usually the wooded area was deserted but not so this night and Heath was not one to leave a wounded man to his fate. It took only one look at his beaten bloody for Heath to make his decision, a mental image of coyotes feasting in the poor man had him hefting the man up. Well, attempting to anyway. In the end ha had to get his horse to kneel and drag the fellow across him.

Pulling the shirt away from the man’s chest, he winced a bit at the close up of the wound. Messy and clearly shot at close range, someone clearly wanted to make sure the man never used his arm again. Heath was no doctor but had seen work done on bullet wounds before and with those procedures in mind he went and sought something he could use to pull the bullet out.

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Son of a bitch…” Chase groaned no sooner did he awaken. He hurt from head to toe and the ache in his shoulder was like a hot poker. Those boys had done their job right, no doubt about that, cause they sure had fucked him up. He would be out of the field for a while trying to recover, that is, if he made it out of… He paused in his thoughts as his hand brushed the sheet beneath him and he took in the firm soft mattress. Opening hazy eyes, he immediately frowned at his surroundings. He usually rented a room in town at Patty’s boardhouse but nothing Patty had ever offered him was this clean.

The sounds of the door creaking open had him immediately reaching for his gun, not finding he immediately looked down only to realize he was naked. In someone else’s bed. With no gun in sight.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

Chase snapped his head up at the sound of the voice and fixed his eyes on the young fellow. Was this lad his savior? “Who the hell are you?” he croaked out, wincing as his throat burned. Damn, how long had he been out?

“Names Heath Morris. I found you in the woods day before yesterday. You were lookin pretty bad so I brought ya here and fixed you up.”

“You a doctor?”

“Naw, but I managed to fix you up right nicely. Seen men’s gun wounds afore and seen em treated too so I did what I done seen done and here you are. Right as rain.”

Chase stared at the slender man, his shaggy wheat blond hair giving him a young appearance, those baby blues shining innocence. Chase was always taught to be weary of any person who looks like that. No one can be that good natured.

“What do you want?”

Heath frowned. “Well, some gratitude wouldn’t hurt. But I don’t want anything. I helped you out cause I would hope someone would do the same for me. I’ve an extra room here so that bed is yours til you recover.”

Chase continued to stare at the man. Nothing in this life was given freely and without something needed in return. Not in this life. And it made him instantly aware and weary of this fellow. “Where’s my horse?”

“Didn’t find no horse. Just you. Anyhow. I reckon it’s impolite to be standing over you when you prolly got needs to attend to. You’ve been out two days after all.” And just like that he was gone.

Chase couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about that kid made him uncomfortable as hell.