So...yeah...it's set in the Old West. Why? Don't ask, I've no idea. Normally I don't even read AU's far less actually write the damn things, but this just sat in my head for ages and eventually I gave in and wrote it down. It seemed like it was a fairly good way of keeping the canon-world as normal as possible; it's a closed environment, Harvey still gets to wear his suits, there's a hierarchy PLUS potential for added danger. I kind of like to think of this as a new pilot or maybe some crazy concussed dream-sequence Mike could have?

As always I've tried to keep the characters in character and I've tried to keep that drama/humour blend. Oh, also every single name I've used comes straight from the series so enjoy spotting characters! Right, that's enough of my rambling for now. Weekly postings I think to start with, or bi-weekly depending on my schedule.

I hope you enjoy and if you do, please review. Happy reading...at least I hope it is...

One.

Jessica's ranch was located several miles west of the township of Hardman; nearly an hour long ride across bumpy terrain and flanked by rock and patches of scrubland.

The house itself was low and sprawling built in local light hued timbers and positioned in the middle of a cluster of structures; the usual combination of barns and stabling as well as a bunkhouse for the few cattle hands. The ranch had been built by Jessica's late husband; the biggest and wealthiest of the local cattle farmers whose reputation had been matched by his character and which lived on in his formidable wife.

It was part of the reason that Harvey was calling; everything started and ended with Jessica.

Trotting briskly under the archway he steered his bay towards the house, crossing the yard to the hitching post and swinging down smoothly in one clean movement. The heels of his shoes crunched loudly on the dry ground sending up small pockets of dust. They swirled in the air and stuck to his black pants, sullying his usual three-piece attire. He was still busy dusting the worst from his jacket sleeves when Jessica joined him out on the steps.

"Harvey," she smiled, enjoying the spectacle, "Have a nice ride? You look a little flushed."

Sweeping a hand across his hat brim, Harvey shot her an unimpressed glare,

"So would you if you had to make that ride in the middle of the day. Why is it that I always have to drag myself out here? Next time how about you come to me?"

Jessica raised an amused-looking eyebrow,

"Tell you what Harvey, when you become the mayor of Hardman I'll come and see you whenever you want. But until then," she offered, fluttering her lashes, "You'll come to me."

Harvey rolled his eyes with long-suffering,

"I guess that figures. I am just a lowly sheriff after all – ,"

"Oh come on now Harvey, don't put yourself down. You're the lowly sheriff. We only have one."

"Thanks," he deadpanned back, "Very comforting."

"You're welcome, now are you coming in?"

Jessica didn't wait for an answer; turning and sashaying back into the house. Harvey followed a step behind her, each of them moving through the exact same sequence that always followed his arrival at the ranch. By the time he took up his usual spot – beside the sprawling rock-work fireplace – Jessica was already pouring him a tumbler.

"So," she began briskly, handing it across and then settling herself in one of the parlour chairs; a high-backed, rococo-revivalist clawfoot, "Where are we on the deputy front?"

"We're not,"

"Harvey – ,"

"Jessica," he replied, "Have you seen the shortlist? Do you have any idea of the options I'm working with? Because I do and trust me, they're not that great."

Jessica took another sip of liquor. When she spoke again she was practically purring, as if to a feral and boisterous kitten.

"Well that's because they haven't had the benefit of being taught by the best sheriff in the area yet."

"I'm the only sheriff in the area," Harvey countered, "Which is a fact that you were at great pains to point out to me not two minutes ago. Do you really think you can smooth-talk me into this?"

"You need a deputy Harvey,"

"Why?" he fired back, spreading his hands wide, "Why now? I've been doing this job single-handed for the last six years and you have never so much as mentioned a deputy. Suddenly, it's all you can think about."

"Harvey," Jessica responded evenly. Her gaze was starting to harden a little, "I never mentioned a deputy before because I never felt you needed one – in some respects I still think that's true – but that was then and this is now. Life out here is getting more dangerous and we have to face facts that towns like Hardman are vulnerable. Outlaws are getting smarter, they're banding together and if somebody decides to come at us we're not going to stand a chance."

Harvey pulled a face,

"So you think adding an extra badge is going to help?"

"No I don't – not in a firefight. But what it will add is peace of mind to the town. It will make people feel safer, feel protected – ,"

"Sure, right up until they're shot in their beds."

"Harvey," Jessica countered warningly, trying not to smile at her sheriff's wry smirk. Damn him. She cleared her throat and continued evenly, "It will also give you extra eyes and ears to keep on top of things before they happen."

"Extra eyes and ears," Harvey repeated. His tone was several shades of bewilderment, "That's what you think is going to happen?"

Jessica stared back at him coolly,

"Mmhm."

"So is that why you sent Stan Jacobson to try out?"

"He's enthusiastic."

"He's also partially sighted."

"I didn't have the heart to say no to him."

"So you let me do it instead?"

Jessica grinned,

"That sounds about right."

Harvey rolled his eyes at her. Try as he might he was struggling to understand just when they had reached such a crack-pot crossroads – one that entailed him seriously considering the physically infirm for the role of his back up; his right-hand man. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders,

"Well then the joke's on you Jessica, because Stan was probably the strongest candidate."

"Please tell me you at least gave the others a chance?"

"The others?" Harvey snorted, "Who, Reverend Porter? The man has never held a gun in his life. His best defence would be delivering a sermon and hoping the outlaw died of boredom. Or maybe you mean Harold Gunderson, who's as likely to shoot me as the bad guys. Not forgetting the twins, Greg and Kyle – ,"

Jessica blinked,

"They're not twins Harvey."

"Well you could have fooled me, because if you pin a badge on either one of them, I guarantee you by the end of the week they'll be walking around town like they own the place. Hell," he laughed; it wasn't from humour, "You might as well give the damn badge to Donna, at least I know she'd have my back."

"Trust me Harvey," Jessica answered, swirling the liquid round in her glass and staring transfixed at the whirlpool effect. Eventually she sighed and looked up, "If I could I would."

"You're the mayor. You can."

"Really? And how do you think that would go down – the town madam installed as deputy sheriff?"

Harvey threw his hands out wide,

"Well then we've got ourselves a situation, because there's not a single person in that town who I would trust even ten miles away from shootout, far less involved in one."

For a second there was a tantalising pause as Jessica seemed to consider her options. Harvey felt it roll in like a thunderstorm and even before she parted her lips he knew exactly what was going to come out. He hated it even before he heard it.

"There's Louis."

"No."

"Why not?" she asked lightly, ignoring the glower she got in response, "You know he's well respected in town, people trust him, he's good with a gun – ,"

"He's also afraid of his own shadow," Harvey countered, "Not to mention the man is a weasel, I'd rather give the badge to Norma – I mean she already works with him every day, so we know she's tough. Hell, I'd even give it to one of your steers. Anyone but Louis Litt."

Jessica finished the remainder of her drink, standing and setting the glass back down. It lived – like the rest of the sparkling crystal ware – on a highly polished silver platter; another of Jessica's late husband's acquisitions. When she turned back to him her expression was firm and her tone left little room for debate.

"Well in that case I'm sorry Harvey but if you can't come up with a deputy of your own by the end of the week, I'll have no choice but to appoint Louis myself,"

"Jessica – ,"

"Harvey. This is my call. But the good news is that you have the ride back to have a long, hard think about your options."

"That's it?" he blinked, "You're kicking me out?"

"Oh I'm not kicking. Not yet anyway."

As was perfectly normal for Jessica, her manner had reverted back to flirtatious. It was a tactic that she made use of frequently – usually to maximum effect – but with Harvey it was different and not as loaded. Their relationship was playful but built on trust and both respected the other too much to ever take it over the line.

Casually sliding on his hat, Harvey pushed himself off from the fireplace,

"Fine, I'll go," he smiled wryly, "Madam Mayor, always a pleasure."

He was halfway across the threshold before she spoke again; her tone oddly cool against the hot midday sun that cast down onto the toes of his boots. The rest of him lingered in the shade of the porch.

"I meant it Harvey – the end of the week. You have until Friday, then it's my choice."