Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Rhinestone Cowboy
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“We’re all gonna die.” Jim muttered darkly, adjusting the brim of their worn leather hat to deflect the harsh and unrelenting noonday sun. The black stallion standing resolute beneath them seemed to agree with a firm huff and sharp kick at the dirt. Beside them Olu sighed, adjusting the worn leather reins in his gloved hands before dismounting gracefully from a sleek brown horse. “Yeah probably. He’s a lunatic- but we both knew that when we signed up.”
Both of their eyes swung up and down as they followed The Gentlemen Cowboy, only a 100 yards ahead in a crude corral- a man best described at first glance as a pastel rodeo clown. He grasped at the mane of a bucking and galloping white mustang for dear life while it’s hooves scraped monstrous clouds of dirt and shit into the air, sweaty muscled neck twisting with rage. On her back, Stede, a pool noodle come to life somehow clung tight, gritting his teeth with terror and eyes bulging as his body lurched dangerously off the horse’s back again and again. His fretful little screams, whenever the air wasn’t being punched out of his lungs, echoed throughout the canyon.
Against the landscape of pallid yellows and browns of wild and beautiful Montana Stede’s bright teal suede jacket accentuated with long white leather fringe was, to put it lightly, an egregious eyesore. His matching teal 10 gallon hat with gold roped edge was much too big for his head and blew off with the force of the horse’s next violent whip back and forth.
Despite comical appearances, Stede’s face, now sharply scrunched as the sun bore down on his brow slick with sweat, was set with determination. Salty rivulets from his cheeks dripped into his blonde mustache and neatly trimmed yellow beard, staining them ochre as they collected dust and dirt from the air.
“DONT WORRY GUYS!! ITS ALL IN HAND NOW!!” Stede yelped tightly over his shoulder as the creature bucked again, somehow more feral now than at the start. They were all worried, his rag tag crew of western misfits leaning against the side of the makeshift railroad tie pen- but nobody felt eager to lose a limb by stepping into the ring. Each of them took in the spectacle with exhausted faces, some more concerned, some more annoyed, but all worn thin by their long journey.
Wee John took a casual sloshing sip of his canteen. Buttons gingerly pet the belly of the hawk on his sunburnt head while softly whispering “Won’t be long now.” It had been an arduous expedition to get to this strategic spot beside the winding railroad tracks- zig-zagging like an iron snake through the rocky valley. Tomorrow they were on schedule to rob The Queen Anne- the finest locomotive traveling west and destined for the coast of Oregon.
It had seemed a foolish mission before- But now? If the bouncing and grimacing rainbow cowboy was any indication- a death wish. Stede had ‘convinced’ the crew a fine wild pony would be the perfect thing to give them the edge in the heist and no one could talk him down.
Lucius had explained, in a not unkind way, “that is the most stupid idea I’ve ever fucking heard,” but there was no talking Stede out of it. There never was when his mind was set on some fantasy- no matter how dangerous. He’d pulled off building Revenge somehow, all the way out in the hills of Montana like hidden treasure- but that still seemed like a lucky fluke.
Somehow they’d managed to lasso the poor mare away from the herd, satiny and pale with muscles gleaming in the sun, and lead it back to their camp. Taming the beast was another matter entirely. They’d left that up to Stede while the rest of them made the best of their dwindling rations and last remaining bottles of whisky.
“10 bucks he dies thrown from its back.” Offered Black Pistol Pete, wiping his bald head with a red handkerchief and punctuating the sentiment with a spit of chewing tobacco slapping into the arid ground. As if on cue Stede whirled through the air with one well timed lurch forward, launching him toward the crew and flat on his back in the dirt with an unceremonious THWUMP. A terrible groan followed a comedic cloud of dust puffing into the air, casting a haze around the corral.
The stallion trotted to the side of the pen, briefly satisfied but eyeing Stede’s prone figure with fire in its glare and lather in its mouth. Pete and the rest leaned in anxiously over the fencing, ready to collect their bets and be done with the whole absurd scheme until unsteadily Stede’s turquoise figure rose from the fog. Something red, round, and shining was in his outstretched hand. “That better not be..” Roach hissed before throwing his hands up and turning back to camp.
“THAT’S OUR LAST ONE-” he shouted as he stomped away, pots and utensils clattering in the distance while he took his rage out on what was left to prepare dinner.
The posse whipped their heads back toward the ring when Stede suddenly breathed a soft but clear “C’mere darlin, see? I’ve got a snack! Yum! Shhh…” He cooed as calmly as he could muster. His face betrayed him- eyes crinkled tight with worry and sweat dripping off his chin. His outfit was utterly ruined, caked in dirt and horse shit, but he stood tall anyway on his absurd white leather boots.
A gleaming crimson apple sat shaking only slightly in the nervous palm of his outstretched glove. Steam poured out of the mare’s nostrils, tendrils of sweat dripping off its own flank. It was tired of fighting too, both weary and furious.
Nervously they both edged toward each other in a slow wide circle, Stede offering soft assurances the whole way and his arm shivering only a little with terror. The remaining crew scarcely drew breath as they watched the painfully slow approach, waiting for the stallion to decide it was done with this farce and kick the boss’s head clean off. But, their leader was nothing if not full of miracles.
They all couldn’t help but doubt him- a bumbling privileged man with more courage than sense- and yet the resounding crunch of the horse’s eager teeth around the apple came without total surprise. Stede had somehow tamed all of them too over the last few months from a feral group of rascals and orphans into a somewhat respectable band of merry outlaws.
When it was close enough, and the large black eyes had softened, drunk on the sweet crisp apple- Stede caressed the beautiful mustang’s massive white cheek with his free and still trembling hand. “Thank you Mary. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-” He whispered far too quietly for the rest to hear.
He choked on his tears, the creature surrendering to the pleasure of a rare treat and his kind words. His wife’s mischievous smile flashed in his mind, and her tense pauses, and then at last her disappointed and tired eyes. Even all the way out here, where he’d run so far to be free of it all- she and his former life still haunted him. This beautiful mare in front of him shared so much of her admirable tenacity. He couldn’t help but remember feeling like this at the end of their own marital duels not so long ago.
A nagging part of him found some peace caressing her long white mane, both of them panting and at long last giving in to their exhaustion. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to feel guilty anymore. He thought to himself looking deep into her broad black eyes.
From the other side of camp an abrupt “BEANS ARE DONE!” shout echoed from Roach beside the fire. The spell was suddenly broken and the white mare, Mary, trotted away again, somewhat satisfied but still casting a distrustful eye.
Stede released all the tension he was holding at once, nearly collapsing. “Alright, I’ll take that for today-“ he muttered and clapped his hands together, spraying more dirt this way and that off them before scrambling at last between the fence posts.
The crew had already left him to find their places around the fire for the sunset meal, but he didn’t mind, happily taking in the sight of them merrily filling up tin plates with baked beans, hoe cakes, and what was left of the beef jerky as the sky turned a rich peach, pink, and purple. Frenchie settled down onto a woven bedroll with his worn banjo and plucked a lazy tune that melded easily with the laughter and chatter.
They have no idea how dire it is if this doesn’t go well, Stede thought with anguish. He desperately didn’t want them to worry and so plastered on his best and brightest smile before joining them for dinner too, dropping his ruined jacket and gloves on a post beside his tent.
They had worked so hard to create a life out here in the harsh wilderness of the unforgiving west, and he’d be damned if he fell short for them now. For tonight one miracle was enough. Tomorrow the real impossible task awaited them- and no matter what they, he, could not fail.
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Far off over the hills a pillar of steam, fluffy as cotton candy trailed up into the endless blue sky, watched keenly by two darkly clad eagle-eyed cowboys waiting in the shadows of a nearby mountain pass.
“Fuck. Won’t be long now.” The tanned and tattooed one grumbled, working a hand rolled cigarette between his lips. He lit the end deftly with a match struck on his saddle and smoke poured from his nostrils and the side of his mouth as he stretched.
“We’re ready.” His smaller and slimmer partner beside him hissed. Behind them, hiding in various dark crevices of the hillside were the rest of the crew on horseback, all dressed in a smattering of cracked black leathers, black bandannas tied over the bottoms of their faces and slim black cowboy hats shading their eyes. The shadowy posse was armed to the teeth with shotguns slung along their backs and bands of rounds stretched across their chests. Most had various knives in their belts and pistols on their hips, crusted with rust but still deadly. Still another had what looked like a spiked mace strapped ominously to their saddle. There were empty saddle bags tied to each horse, waiting anxiously for the gold that was promised from passengers of the fancy Queen Anne.
Blackbeard sighed, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and tapping the ash off with a quick flick of the wrist, the brim of his hat casting a sharp dark shade across his round black eyes. Yeah, they were ready. They were always ready. It wasn’t even fun anymore. It wasn’t even dangerous anymore. Today would be just like every other day before this- and another train would roll through just like this tomorrow… and the next day, and the next.
Ed knew exactly how it was gonna play out, could watch it behind his eyes clear as day. First they’d take control of the conductor so he couldn’t signal for help, then they’d swarm the cars like locusts taking whatever they wanted from the poor souls seeking a new life out west. No one would fight, no one would dare try when they saw his face and his crew. Not even the rangers most certainly on board would risk it. They would stand there with crossed arms and set mouths, knowing if they made trouble they’d be overwhelmed anyway. They were really just set dressing to make sure no one died but they certainly couldn’t really guarantee that either. It was just way too easy out here in the middle of nowhere.
What was the challenge? What was the fucking point? Ed had enough baubles and trinkets and gold to fill a canyon, and he very nearly literally had done so. His hoard, hidden carefully away in the hills, was so full he didn’t even know what the fuck to spend it on anymore. Whorehouses could be fun but he hated how empty and cold he felt in the light of the next day. Always feeling more naked stepping out onto the range again, more alone again even on the run with his crew.
Drinking filled some of the void of course- and it was the same old fucking whiskey at every saloon. Same old cowboys and pissants trying to test him for a story or crooning over him with envy while he nursed a glass. Izzy seemed to still get off on it most of the time- being part of Blackbeard’s crew and his right hand man. It gave him some cred and respect at least. The best anyone in their station could really hope for, but for Ed there was just no pleasure in it- not anymore anyway. He remembered the rush when he was young and foolish, but now? He hadn’t felt anything, and had been at a loss about it for years if he was truly honest.
But hell- what other life could there possibly be? Ed was at the tippy top of the food chain with his gang of marauders. The Blackbeard name was infamous all across the west, from Texas up to Washington, all along the rockies and spilling into the desert- whispered as a boogeyman to children at bedtime and bitterly cursed in lawmen’s mouths. Most towns simply boarded up when they heard he and his guys were rolling through and waited it out. What kind of a promotion could he ever hope for, when this was supposed to be the dream? And what a dream it was- lonely and tiring and his knee aching all the goddamn time now. A fucking nightmare actually he considered glumly as the train started to roll in from the hills.
“What the fucking FUCK?” Izzy wheezed, waking Ed up from his morose thoughts just as his cigarette was about to burn his lip. They both squinted their eyes and leaned forward, beholding as colorful a posse as there ever was riding just over the far hill and toward the tracks. From where they sat high up on the opposite hillside, safely out of view, Edward vaguely thought it looked like a strange herd of multicolor cattle- like no outlaws he’d ever seen. They weren’t even trying to be hidden or subtle, all flash and shouting, rookie shit.
In front of the brigade was the most baffling crowning star, a man who seemed to drip with gold from head to toe. His 10 gallon hat and long vest were actually- no.. couldn’t be.. Ed considered with pure wonder, were actually GLITTERING in the blistering sunshine as he pushed the white mustang beneath him to it’s limit, reaching just the right speed to match the train.
His puffy white long sleeve shirt beneath the shimmering vest was billowing with each crush of hooves on dirt, white leather fringed pants waving tendrils in the wind. As he gained closer to the track it was clear the man was having the time of his life yelling and laughing and signaling to the rest of his crew to follow with a dramatic wave of his (also gold) gloved hand in the air. Something in Ed’s chest leapt up out of it’s grave. At long last, something different and new shone like the sun cresting over the side of the earth for the first time.
“I gotta see this-“ Ed giggled, flicking the spent cigarette casually off the side of the cliff. Without another word he kicked a spur into his pure black stallion’s belly and went riding off down the pass and into the gorge. Before Izzy could protest he was gone- dust in the wind. The rest of his men exchanged confused glances but stayed awkwardly in position while Izzy wiped an exasperated leather gloved hand down his taut face. "Not again. Not here.” he muttered too soft for any of them to notice.
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“Spectacular.” Stede mouthed as he raced along The Queen Anne, Mary flexing her muscle and keeping perfect pace while wind whipped through his golden curls. It was close enough to touch so he carefully reached out, gloved fingers tracing the side of a storage coach with some kind of holy reverence. The Queen Anne was a deep sparkling maroon with mustard yellow edges around the large carriages, wheels beneath were a thundering feat of modern iron engineering, throwing dust and stones in it’s powerful wake.
She was known as the golden standard in the great travel westward. Only the wealthiest could afford her passage, the rest had to suffer in wagons and risk disease and death. There were matching gold velvet curtains within the large windows of the passenger cars and behind them Stede could see beautifully dressed people already panicking and crowding within the glass to watch the drama unfold. Stede was once one of them, briefly anyway, staring out those grand windows upon the great mountainous expanse of Montana and wondering what adventures were waiting for him. Perhaps it was full circle that he had come back to her, to assert he was no longer one of these people trapped in a train, simply traveling and gaining nary a scratch for it- but one of the outlaws beyond it riding wild and free, risking it all for a chance to actually live.
On the other side of the glass his eyes finally met a crowd of frightened glances and wide looks. He latched onto a woman in a fine red petticoat clasping a little girl to her bosom, one suitcase at their feet. There was a fluffy black feather within her stylish crimson hat and her auburn hair was pinned just so. He thought of Mary and Alma fitfully for but a moment before focusing on the task at hand, whipping the reins and flowing with the canter of his new mare to race toward the conductor’s car. He’d read all about how outlaws did it, robbed trains that is, and now was the time to finally put that knowledge to the test.
The rest of the gang knew their marching orders- take the passenger cars in pairs and secure whatever valuables they could find. Then detach the dining car after hurrying anyone in it safely off into the passenger quarters. Once that was done, the train would simply continue on its way again without the caboose. They would be fine and make it to their next stop in Livingston before anyone’s stomach grumbled. This wasn’t just a mission of greed or riches, this was of necessity- to protect his beloved and now somewhat thriving town of Revenge. Beyond riches, they needed food, medicines, supplies. Etc. Things that were hard to come by or make in the middle of nowhere to support a growing community. He knew from experience there was plenty of that and more stored in the dining cars.
A few loose stones flew past Stede’s face, and several more pelted him in the chest as he pressed on toward the front with raw determination. With what he felt was quite the heroic flourish he kicked the black iron side door that read “conductor” in gold and red. The doorway opened only to blackness inside. The only thing still ahead of him was the cacophonous engine bellowing thick steam into the air like a wild beast.
His thighs strained as he awkwardly stood up in the saddle, gathering more courage and the rush of it all making him light-headed and giddy. I’m a real cowboy he assured himself, summoning an armful of blind naive bravery before he leaping off Mary toward the dark doorway. He’d pushed as hard as he could off of the madly dashing horse’s stirrups, screaming (unheroicly, and decidedly uncowboy-like) all the way through the air until he caught a handle in his grasp.
No, he thought curiously, leaning (but kind of falling) out of the train, not a handle- a hand? His body leaned precariously over the speeding ground below, unable to see anything except the blur of the passing landscape. He could feel the warmth of the strong hand holding him taut, somehow keeping him from falling farther and to his death. While at this frightful angle, one foot perched on the edge of the step up, the other kicking helplessly at the air, he caught a glimpse of Mary peeling off to who knows where.
Before he could hope his crew would find her again, he was suddenly yanked roughly into the conductor car at last, the world spinning dizzyingly on it’s axis. He was pulled in with such brute force he struggled and failed to balance the new momentum. He fell heavily forward into the dark, his weight suddenly pinning his unknown savior to the coal dusted floor.
Two large dark doe eyes stared up at him, cartoonish and wide below. They laid there for a long moment, too stupefied to move as the car continued to jostle along the tracks. Their right hands were still grasped tightly together between their chests and both of their lungs fitfully gasped for air. A muffled yell from a few feet away brought them both back to reality. Slowly they turned their heads and looked over, Stede to the right, Ed to his left, to stare at the conductor expertly bound and gagged beside the raging train engine feed, glowing red with burning embers. The heat licked their faces and blurred the air around it as it howled hungrily. Edward turned his head carefully to look back up at Stede, lips nearly brushing his cheek. “Howdy mate.” he grinned between his cropped dark beard and mustache.
“You’re interrupting my robbery.” He said followed in a chipper tone. Stede stumbled up and off him to his feet, leaning his back against the door to the next car. The most curious thing to Ed was his immediate expression- one of red-faced rage- not fear. “Your robbery?!!!” Stede yelled, angrier then he meant to be at a man who’d just finished saving his life. “Who the hell are you?!” He spat. All this training. They came all this way. His people, his town needed those goods.
Edward’s smile only deepened, like a cat who caught a mouse, and he slowly sat up, bouncing a little with a soft laughter springing up from deep in his belly. No one had dared speak to him like that in years, and now this beautiful golden clown, bright like the sun was chiding him like a child who snuck into the cookie jar. He considered briefly introducing himself as Blackbeard, as that would have scared this wobbly uncoordinated rhinestone cowboy straight, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. If the man knew it, he didn’t show it- and that in and of itself was thrilling.
Instead Ed sighed and slowly stood up, knee groaning a little with the effort, dusted himself off and extended his hand again properly this time. “Ed Teach. Born on a beach.” To his surprise Stede cautiously reached forward a glittering gold glove and accepted it, giving a shockingly strong and respectful hand shake back. Up close Ed could see the shining gold was made up of actual little shimmering beads, sewn so carefully to leather. Mental. He mouthed, staring at them openly with awe.
“Stede Bonnet. Born on uh.. England." At that they both laughed softly, awkwardly, Ed bringing his eyes back up to share the smile, feeling the warmth pouring out of the man in front of him.
“And yah mate...” Ed continued, somewhat unsteadily, completely knocked off his usual swagger. He looked Stede directly in the eye, summoning a bit of the old Blackbeard and continued somewhat menacingly “My gang has been staking out this train for years now.”
He waited for any dawning recognition again. Maybe this guy was just a bit slow? But he didn’t seem slow- there was a sharp intelligence in his look. No epiphany came. Not a single flicker. Only confusion and concern slowly knotted into Stede’s brow.
Ed could have sworn he felt a rush of cool air across his face for the first time in a decade. “But I tell ya what” he continued carefully “this one’s yours. Already took care of this guy.” He released Stede’s hand slowly, his own hand itching from the contact, and pointed at the man he’d tied up earlier.
Stede followed his finger and gaze to stare at the conductor, flailing so hard in his bonds he fell over onto his side, red in the face and screaming something explicit through a dirty rag stuffed into his mouth. “Wonderful, thank you Ed!” Stede chuckled. He fucking chuckled. Ed was shocked to his core.
“Thank you kindly.” Stede he said again in that unbelievably cheerful lilt that could throw anyone off guard. He tipped his hat and gave a gentlemanly bow. It made Ed stutter and step back. What the fuck he wondered, but mumbled “Well you’re welcome” instead. He did what he thought was a pretty good little half bow back, tipping his black hat back in what he imagined was a grand fashion. To Stede it looked endearingly like a bull trying to curtsy.
They stared at each other again for what felt like a minute, mutely in awe of each other's stark difference. This time Stede used the moment to really take in the cowboy across from him properly. He was the real deal, he could only figure- sweeping his eyes across the black leather vest that looked to once be a jacket, the arms roughly cut off, buttoned mid way down with brass to show a little peek of belly. It was open enough at the top to show off a tattooed bird with spread wings across his tan collarbones. More faded tattoos, too many to count wound around both muscled arms, one a coiling rattlesnake.
Black leather fringed chaps hung over dark wash jeans marred with holes and scrapes and dirt- a few stains that were probably blood. Below were a pair of astonishing rattlesnake boots. There was no doubt about it as each toe bore the unfortunate face and fangs of two of the poor devilish creatures. Rubies had been set into their eyes and flashed in the light of the engine, their fangs sharply bared.
Stede suddenly felt garish for the first time in his life, standing in front of this man who was clearly a true cowboy with long dark hair in a loose braid down his back capped by a black slim hat (matching rattlesnake tail around the middle, of course). It was very stylish in its own brutal and terrifying way. The best he thought was the big brass belt buckle, an odd shape of wriggling tentacles- an octopus? Stede decided to file away asking about it if there was ever a chance.
“OH!” Stede cursed himself, clapping a hand over his face, he’d already foolishly forgotten his crew in peril in the back of the train. “Sorry!” he gasped at his own outburst, watching Ed’s face crumple in a shockingly endearing manner. “No matter- Ok follow me Ed Teach, born on a beach!” he finally exclaimed and turned on his heel to stride confidently through the door behind him. One thing done at least he thought positively, and a new friend to boot!
Ed followed him in a daze, buzzing with excitement about whatever the fuck this guy was gonna do or say next.
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