Here it is folks! Season 3 of my Deadwood fandom. Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed my previous stories. If you're new to this, please read Hell of A Place and A Fragile Life first to make sense of it all.
As always, I only own all original characters.
As you'll know, my stories don't follow the time line of the series and there are bits and bobs that differ here and there...but then it is AU!
And...Al ain't losing any fingers in my stories!
July 28th 1876
"Fucking prick..."
Al Swearengen muttered softly to himself as he stood at the pisspot, attempting the morning flow. In weeks of late, he had found it more and more challenging to make water, even at times when he should have been lucky to reach it in time. He took his prick in his hand and shook it, as though the action might encourage it to do something. It failed to respond and so, he re-buttoned the flap on his duds, pulled on his pants, waistcoat and boots and made his way out onto the balcony to greet the new day.
Below him in the thoroughfare, the traders were setting up for the day's business. They called good-naturedly to each other as they did so and Al inclined his head in greeting as Seth Bullock walked past, accompanying his wife to her duties at the schoolhouse.
"Good morning, Mr Swearengen," she called up, upon seeing him.
"Mrs Bullock," he greeted her. He watched as they progressed, arm in arm, until out of sight and thought over how remarkable it was that Bullock had managed to retain a marriage in the wake of an affair with the Mrs Ellsworth. For sure, Martha Bullock must know of what transpired between her husband and the other woman and, yet, there were never any signs of rancour in their public displays.
"Good morning."
He turned to see his wife, Catherine, at the balcony door, dressed in her chemise, a shawl pulled around her shoulders, her hair falling around her face. "Morning," he replied by way of greeting." She stepped out onto the balcony beside him, her hand automatically moving to rest atop his on the balustrade. He moved away at her touch, and though avoiding her gaze, knew that she had noted the action.
"What are your intentions for today?" he asked, turning to face her and yet leaving a distance between them that protected himself more than her.
"I thought I might visit Joanie," Catherine replied, once she had recovered herself. "It's been some time now since I've spoken with her...once I've seen to the girls, of course...unless you have an objection?
He paused on her expression, one which he would almost have said was pleading for him to have such an objection. "You can do as you fucking well please if you feel well enough."
"I do," she replied.
"Then by all means, sally forth and spend the morning with her." He moved past her back into the office and lifted his jacket from the chair by the bed.
She followed him inside. "Al..."
"What's he trying to say with that hole in the fucking hotel wall, huh?" he interrupted her, pointing back out the door across to the Central Hotel. Mere days after he had arrived in camp, George Hearst had stunned them all by taking sledgehammer to the wall and knocking a hole big enough for him to climb through and stand on the lower roof, surveying the camp."Is he trying to make some kind of a fucking point?"
"Presumably he didn't tell you of his plans when you met him," Catherine replied.
"Not a word. Though truth be told, our meeting was brief," Al replied, leaning against the doorframe, recalling the short meeting facilitated by E.B. "His intentions in camp will no doubt become all too clear in due course and yet I find myself fucking mystified at present as to why he hasn't made advances towards Mrs Ellsworth over her claim."
"Perhaps he has," Catherine reasoned. "Reason stands that you can't always know the goings on of all of the residents all of the time."
"No," Al shook his head. "E.B. would have informed on the matter if overtures had been made. This...stillness...unsettles me." He felt her hand on his back, her cheek resting against him and, for a brief moment, he thought about turning, taking her in his arms and satisfying himself with her body as he knew she craved. Sense won out, however and he moved away from her. "Take as long as you like with Miss Stubbs. You ain't needed here this morning." Turning away from her hurt expression, he left the office and made his way downstairs.
Only a few early morning hardened drinkers were present and the 'tit-licker' had just finished his morning ritual and was fleeing for the door, by the time Al approached the bar.
"Regular as fucking clockwork," Dan stated, pouring his boss a drink.
"Best way to be, Dan," Al replied. He glanced up at the closed office door and imagined Catherine behind it, struggling to hold back her tears the way he had seen her do on so many occasions of late. It gave him no pleasure to act as he did and yet, there seemed no alternative. He witnessed the efforts that she made to entice him night after night and, though there were moments such as this morning when he felt he might be able to forget the past, they were short lived. Having her returned to him had been his fervent prayer, but now that she was well again, he feared disaster of the same kind befalling her.
The only way he knew to prevent agony of the same ilk was to remove himself from her completely. There could be no mistakes, no accidents. Allowing himself to feel for her only awakened the possibility of another child and more sickness and that he knew he could not bear.
"I'm going to the hardware store shortly to see Bullock," he said, draining his glass.
"What for?" Dan asked.
"None of your fucking business."
XXXX
As she made her way along the thoroughfare towards Shaughnessy's, where Joanie was now installed having generously loaned the now defunct Chez Ami to be used as the schoolhouse, Catherine couldn't help the pierce of bitter tears behind her eyes. As the days passed, Al grew more and more distant towards her. Conversation was limited to the whores or wonderments about Hearst. They spoke of nothing personal and, since her return to health, he had made no advance towards her.
It wasn't for a lack of effort on her part. Thinking he held the vision of her in her sickbed in his mind, preventing him from acting, she tried to ensure that her hair sat nicely, that there was perfume on her décolletage and that her body was well presented for him. It appeared to make no odds. He spent as little time in her company as he could and every night, he turned his back on her without so much as a gentle touch. She had hoped and prayed that his mood would pass, desperately needing to feel his arms around her, his mouth at her ear and, least she admit, his prick in her pussy. But as time rolled on, she had begun to fear that life would never return to that which it was before. On every occasion that she tried to broach the subject with him, he always found reason to turn the conversation to a different topic, as evidenced that very morning.
When she reached Joanie's room, the other woman greeted her warmly and invited her in where a plain tea-tray awaited her. She sat in the one chair in the room while Joanie perched on the bed and, for a while, they talked of meaningless things. What was happening in the camp, how she had found Tolliver of late and, of course, Hearst's arrival.
"How are things going?" Joanie asked carefully, after polite conversation had been exhausted. "With you and Al, I mean."
"All right," Catherine replied, looking away, somewhat embarrassed. "He's courteous to me, which I suppose I should be grateful for, but...as for the other..." she trailed off and looked down into her coffee cup. "It's as though we were mere acquaintances rather than husband and wife."
"Maybe...maybe it's just hard for him," Joanie opined. "I mean, seeing you sick and the like, especially knowing that you lost the child."
"Maybe, but there's more to it than that. I can't really describe it suffice to say that the atmosphere between us has changed so irrevocably. He lies beside me every night like a stranger and yet...to my knowledge...he ain't using any of the girls so..." she shrugged. "I don't rightly know what to think."
"I reckon time is all he needs," Joanie said encouragingly. "Any fool can see he loves you. I bet you he ain't about to let a little thing like this get in the way of your being together."
"I hope so," Catherine replied, though she remained unconvinced. "But enough about my fucking problems. What about you? Have you and Mr Utter discussed a future together yet?"
Joanie blushed, "Not in so many words, no."
"But you are hopeful."
"I imagine it would be pleasant being in Mr Utter's company, especially after so many years with Cy."
Catherine shuddered slightly as she thought of the life her friend had lived. All those years being bullied by Tolliver and then her friends, Mattie included, butchered by Hearst's geologist.
Perhaps she should be grateful for her lot with Al, satisfying or not.
XXXX
"Good afternoon Mrs Swearengen!"
Catherine paused as she made her way back along the thoroughfare to the Gem an hour later and looked around to identify the owner of the voice. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up above her to see Hearst, standing atop the hotel, looking down at her, his hands thrust into the pockets of his pants. "Good afternoon, Mr Hearst," she replied carefully, for truth be told, it was the first time she had had any direct conversation with the man.
"Fine day, ain't it?"
"Yes, it is."
"I was hoping that you might be able to spare me a few moments of your time to discuss a rather delicate matter."
"Well, I..." she glanced over to the Gem balcony, but there was no sign of Al.
"If you have concern for Mr Swearengen, I understand him to be in the hardware store with Sheriff Bullock at present," Hearst said. "What I have to say need only take a few moments."
Catherine weighed up the situation. Were she to ask Al in advance before venturing to speak to Hearst, she had no doubt that he would caution against it most fervently. At least, she assumed he would. And yet his manner towards her of late led her to think that perhaps he might have no opinion at all on the subject. "All right," she replied finally.
"I'm glad. Please come inside and venture to room six," Hearst said.
She made her way out of the afternoon glare of the thoroughfare and into the hotel. Thankfully, E.B was not on the desk, for she could be certain at his intrigue were he to discover her purpose. She climbed the stairs slowly, rounded the corner and found that he already had the door open awaiting her arrival.
"I'm grateful to you for acceding to my request, Mrs Swearengen," Hearst said, allowing her to enter and leaving the door ajar. "I have been considering this matter for some time now and was hoping that you might be willing to help me."
"That depends on what you intend asking of me," she replied glancing around.
"Of course. Won't you sit down?" he gestured to a chair opposite his desk. She paused and then slowly did as he asked. "I'm aware that you have been a resident of the camp for some time now, am I right?"
"Yes, almost a year," she replied.
"Both before and after your marriage?"
"Yes."
"Then you must feel you know it well."
"I suppose I do."
"My wife Phoebe, Mrs Hearst, rarely travels with me," he explained. "Caring for our son William has always been her main priority and rightly so. I'm aware, however, that she finds it difficult when I am away for extended periods of time, as I have been over these last few years. Our son is now of an age to attend boarding school back east and Mrs Hearst has declared an interest to come and join me in the camp for the time that I will be stationed here."
"Oh," Catherine said. "That will be pleasant company for you, I'm sure."
"Indeed," he agreed. "The difficulty arises in that my business activities keep me occupied on a day to day basis, meaning I would be unable to spend as much time with her as I would like. Whilst I appreciate the good nature of many in the camp, it is not a place where I would wish my wife to venture out alone and that is the purpose for which I seek your assistance."
Catherine stared at him, "I'm not sure I understand your request."
"It's very simple, Mrs Swearengen. I would like you to act as companion to my wife upon her arrival." She must have shown her surprise as he chuckled good-naturedly. "You seem taken aback by the request."
"I suppose I am," she replied honestly. "Your wife..."
"Is close to you in age though some ten years your senior," he interrupted her. "Marriage to an older man is a situation to which you find yourself common to her."
"Oh," she said again, surprised by this revelation. She had thought that whoever bore the wedding ring of George Hearst would be a woman nearer his own age, a worldly woman, sharing his views and values.
"Do you give me an answer now?" he asked
"Well..." she hesitated. "I am not a woman who spends her days simply lounging in the Gem watching as the world passes by, Mr Hearst. Approve or otherwise, but I am a whoremistress with daily duties in the saloon."
"I understand that perfectly," he said, "and I would not wish to take advantage of your time. Which is why I am prepared to remunerate you for this service to me." He pulled a scrap of paper towards him, scribbled a figure down on it and pushed it across the table towards her. "Would this be acceptable?"
Catherine stared at the sum offered. It was more than she had ever been expected to be paid for any service, least of all simply acting as companion to another woman. "I..."
"Do you wish to discuss the matter with Mr Swearengen?" Hearst asked. "I would not assign blame if you felt a decision could not be made without such recourse."
She bristled at the implication and could only look back on Al's cool attitude towards her of late. "I do not need to seek his permission, Mr Hearst. I do as I please." She nodded. "I would be glad to make your wife's acquaintance and to familiarise her with the camp."
"Splendid!" he clapped his hands together and got to his feet, forcing her to stand also. "Shall we shake on it? I see in you a shrewd businesswoman who would not consider the matter settled until such gesture had been made."
Catherine looked at his outstretched hand for a moment before clasping it in her own. "When does Mrs Hearst arrive?"
"On tomorrow's stagecoach, so it is fortunate indeed that I was able to speak with you today," Hearst said, ushering her to the door. "Please do give my warmest regards to your husband. I will send Captain Turner to the Gem tomorrow once my wife has recovered from her travels so that you may make her acquaintance without delay."
"All right then," she replied, before turning and making her way back down the stairs and out into the warm sunshine. Her head spun as she crossed the thoroughfare and stepped back inside the Gem.
What in Christ's name had she just agreed to?
XXXX
Oblivious to the conversation taking place between Catherine and Hearst, Al was grateful to find Seth alone in the hardware store upon his arrival. He had nothing against Sol Star, but the nature of the conversation was to be delicate and he preferred as little an audience as possible.
Seth started upon seeing him and hurried over. "Hearst?" he asked.
"To that matter there is no update since last we spoke," Al replied. "I still ain't worked out his purpose nor do I detect any advances towards Mrs Ellsworth. My visit to you today is of a personal nature."
"A personal nature?"
"Yes. You'll remember, I hope, a certain document I had you sign and witness before my marriage to Catherine these months past?"
"Yes."
"I trust you still have it."
"In the safe, of course. Is there some difficulty? She is not unwell again I hope."
"Her health improves daily, "Al replied. "But I'd like to see it, if I may." Seth cocked his head to one side suspiciously, but did as he was asked. Al waited while he opened the safe and retrieved the document in question, handing it over within moments. Al opened it, read and reread the words contained therein. "As I remember," he said. "I may ask you to witness a document of another kind shortly."
"What kind of document?"
"One authorising a half share of the Gem to be passed to Catherine in cash or gold as she prefers. My intentions remain as provided for in this document. Despite law to the contrary, our marriage would not negate her share in the Gem and, on the occasion of divorce, would remain hers without question."
Seth stared at him, "By that remark, am I to conclude you intend to divorce?"
Al folded the document carefully and placed it in his inside pocket. "Moment comes for us to part ways...I'd appreciate your being present to ensure I fulfil my promise thus decreed."
"I got no difficulty with that, but..."
"As I said to you the morning you signed this, it wasn't my first foray into matrimony. I have become somewhat accustomed to the ritual of a coming together and a parting of the ways." Al knew the other man wanted to ask more, but was grateful for his restraint.
"I'm sorry," was all he said.
"Your apologies are noted and gratefully received," Al replied. "I'm sure this goes without saying, but the least said of this amongst camp members...would be all the better for a smooth transition."
"You got my word as silence," Seth assured him.
"I thank you for that," Al said. Without resorting to further explanations, he turned and made his way out of the hardware store and along the thoroughfare towards the Gem. As he approached, he happened to glance up at the hotel and saw Hearst, poised on the rooftop, watching him with interest.
"Mr Swearengen," Hearst greeted him calmly.
"Mr Hearst," Al replied. He continued his way on into the Gem, where he found Catherine at the bar, shifting nervously from foot to foot, her face lighting up when she saw him with something akin to relief. She hurried forward and he feared she might attempt to embrace him.
His fears were unfounded. "I must speak with you," she said quietly.
Al sighed heavily, the moment upon him. "And I with you."