The Outlaw Blaine Anderson
Chapter 1

"I'm just saying, I think he'd rather take you up those stairs," Santana tossed out, a nail scratching under her garter as she arched a shapely leg upon a chair. "Because he sure as hell doesn't know what to do when he has mein my cot."

"Santana!" Kurt hissed, watching the barkeep warily. "Keep your voice down."

Santana rolled her shoulders. "I'm not scared of Mad Bear. I don't see why you should be."

"Because the last thing I need is to be getting dragged out into the street and shot in the head by the sheriff, thank you very much." Kurt sipped at the last of his milk as he made to get back up. "Anyway, I have to get back to the shop. I left Finn in charge."

Santana winced. "Do me a favour, don't give him his pay early again. Brittany had to draw me so many baths last time. The stench was in my skin for weeks."

"Thank you for that horrific image. And I wouldn't worry about that." Kurt smiled. "He's been stepping out with Miss Fabray for the past few weeks. He even escorted her to church just this last Sunday. Pa says they'll be ringing in the new year as man and wife."

"Ain't that sweet," Santana sneered, knocking back her whiskey sour. "Well, I got work to do as well." She nodded towards the doorway as Sheriff Dave Karofsky entered. "Here's Mad Bear, himself."

"Good luck," Kurt whispered as her face morphed into a come-hither grin, and she slipped neatly from the stool. One hand upon the stair's handrail, she waited for Karofsky with the other upon her hip.

Kurt tried to slip past the sheriff without making eye contact, but the larger man eased quickly into place, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hummel. You here for Brittany again?" he asked jovially, and Kurt felt his neck flush red as the few patrons of Cheeriosbegan to laugh heartily.

"No, Sheriff. I was just stopping by for a drink, now if you excuse me—"

"Land sake, sometimes I expect you to gather up your petticoats and hit me with your parasol, Hummel." He looked over Kurt, an indecipherable look in his eyes. "You sure is a queer little thing."

Kurt stared back, his mouth in a straight line. "Excuse me, Sheriff.

"Oh, yes, ma'am!" Karofsky took a step back, removing his hat and making a show of bowing as Kurt moved past. Again the others in the bar laughed as Kurt left them behind, the heat of humiliation and anger coiling in his gut.

As he stalked across the street to Hummel's, his hand pressed tightly into his pocket, curling round a familiar and loved piece of parchment. He didn't need to see it in his palm to know every line, every shape, every color. He'd been carrying it around for almost a year now, ever since that girl from the theater troupe, Harmony, had given it to him. New York, she had said, was where dreams came true.

One day, he told himself, it would be his dream.

All he had to do was get out of this place first.

Kurt traced the whorls in the counter and sighed. It was a slow day. They were all slow days. He glanced out the window and sighed at the familiar sight. He could predict his day down to the very last second. At just gone ten, the school-teacher, Ms Pillsbury, would come in for a stock up on chalk and a frankly worrying amount of starch and soap. She would soon be followed by the peculiar Mr. Ryerson. Finn would often have to serve him, as he always seemed to require items from the highest shelves- only to change his mind the moment Finn had located it. Noon would bring in the sheriff and his dull headed friends, they would smile and jar with his pa, but the moment it was just them, they would josh Kurt until he was red in the face and grinding his teeth into a fine powder. By one-thirty, the shop would be-

The bell rang to signal a new customer, breaking Kurt's thoughts. Kurt immediately straightened, excitement lacing his spine. An out-of-towner. Burt's father disapproved of how visibly different Kurt was with visitors to the McKinley, but he couldn't help it. These breaks in routine were the only things that kept him sane most days.

The hat hung low over the customer's face, hiding him from view and Kurt arched a brow, waiting for the man to reveal himself.

"Howdy," the stranger announced.

"Good afternoon," replied Kurt, placing his hands flat upon the counter. "Can I help you?"

"Mayhap." He shrugged and touched at his jaw, the sound of his fingers scraping against the stubble it found there. "I'm looking for a place to rest my head and my horse for the night."

Kurt nodded. "Just passing through?"

"Unless something catches my eye." On this, he tipped at his hat and smiled. Kurt felt like all the air in him had whooshed out in a single moment. The man was beautiful. Simply and utterly beautiful.

No, he told himself. He couldn't afford to think like that, not here. Not again.

"Yes, uh, well Shannon Beiste should have a room. Tell her that I sent you." Kurt took a nearby napkin and began drawing a hasty map. The man moved closer and Kurt dug his heels into the ground to stop himself darting away.

"And you are?" he asked, his voice low.

"Uh, Kurt?" Kurt winced. "Kurt, my name is Kurt."

"So good they named you thrice?"

Kurt gave a hesitant laugh and held the napkin out to him. "I—no, I—"

"Did I hear something about a horse?" Burt's voice sounded out into the tiny shop. "Can I help you, stranger?"

"Well, your boy here was kind enough to point me towards an inn. But I need a place to saddle up my mare." He winked at Kurt. "And someone to take a look at his shoe, got it done in the last town and it may as well have been done with a lick and a promise."

"I get you. Shysters calling themselves experts all over these days." Burt nodded. "Name's Hummel." He held out a hand and grasped at the other man's tightly. "What's your handle?"

A shadow seemed to pass over his face for a moment, and then was chased away by another one of his wide grins. "Warbler. Brian Warbler."

"Meetcha." Burt nodded. "I can take a look at your horse for you. Cost you, though."

Brian removed a coin purse from his holster and dropped a couple of gold pieces onto the counter. "I think that should cover it."

Burt grinned down at the coins. "Ayuh, that should cover it just fine."

"I guess I like this town already," said Brian, his eyes never leaving Kurt's.