Chapter One : Arrival

Faith reined her horse in. She could've sworn she'd heard a voice just then. She turned in her saddle and looked back up the steep, dried-out stream bed for its source, pulling her flintlock out of its holster and cocking it at the same time.

"Missy!" the voice called again. A black man walked out of a gully a hundred or so feet behind her. He was dressed in loose, poorly fitting rags. Plenty of places to hide a weapon in there. She swung her arm round and pointed her flintlock pistol at his forehead.

"There's many a woman'd have a nigger flogged for talking to her unbidden," Faith said sternly to him. "And there's many a lone rider'd shoot anyone who shouted them down in the wilderness."

"Preacher Giles says it be important," the man replied. "He pay me to come here, watch for strangers, warn them away. You shouldn't be going down there, Missy." Always the same. She turned up somewhere, the first thing someone did was warn her away.

"And what's down there that you need to warn me 'way from?" she asked, somewhat harshly. No one ever thought she could handle herself. They'd always been proven wrong. So far, at least. There was no reason why this should be any different.

"Fort Sunshine, Missy. There be nuttin' good inside o' Fort Sunshine. 'Specially not for a lady like you." Oh, here we go. The second thing someone did was mistake her for a lady, or try to flatter her by calling her one.

She looked away, lowering her gun. "I'm no lady. And I'm damned if I'm sleeping under the stars a night longer than I have to. It's too darn cold at night. Where's this Preacher Giles then? I'd like to talk to him about Fort Sunshine and why he thinks he needs to warn people off."

The man smiled. "Preacher Giles be in Fort Sunshine, Missy. He can't be leaving there, but he don't be wanting other people going there."

Faith turned her horse and started to continue down the stream bed.

"Missy, please," the man called out again, chasing after her. "Don't be going to Fort Sunshine."

Faith turned back to face him and raised her gun again. "What's your name?"

"Trick, Missy. Name's Trick. Preacher Giles gave it me, said I should keep my real name secret. 'Specially from people wanting to go to Fort Sunshine. They's as always up to no good. Be you up to no good, Missy?"

"Well Trick," Faith said, somewhat exasperated, "My daddy always used to tell me the only good nigger was a dead nigger. But then he also used to tell me I was a worthless slut, every time he raped me, so I'd hate to think that even one thing he said was right. Prove him wrong, and leave me be."

Trick turned around and threw his hands in the air, walking away. "I tol' her, I tried to warn her, but she just be calling me nigger and ignoring me." He shook his head. As he walked out of earshot Faith thought she heard him say "Preacher Giles not gonna be happy 'bout this." She smiled to herself and continued down the trail.

Trick hadn't really bothered her, and his persistence had given her more information than the warning itself. Maybe at Fort Sunshine she'd find what she was looking for, finally. It had been two months since she'd ridden out of Washington, slowly making her way to Californian territories, making detours whenever occasion demanded it of her. Tough job being a Witchfinder. Had to be brave enough to stand up to whatever Magic was thrown at you, and wiley enough to tell the good Magic from the bad. At twenty, Faith was the youngest Witchfinder in the whole of the Americas, and one of the best. And yet she was almost as hated as the witches themselves. That Salem bullshit had been the worst. One young girl shows a knack for making herbal poultices for babies with fever, then before you know it the town wants to burn every unmarried woman in the town who isn't a virgin. Except for the whores, of course. Gotta have the whores to keep the men happy. When Faith had tried to defuse the situation and convince the townspeople none of the women in question were genuine witches, they'd run her out of town. God help the poor girls she'd had to leave behind.

The stream bed levelled as it reached the plain, and the landscape opened up in front of her. That was Fort Sunshine? In some States that would be classed as a city. A mile and a half or so across each way, and a fair sized collection of homes and workshops inside its walls. The Marshall's Law House and Garrison stood out prominently in the centre of the town. Must be at least two hundred soldiers there, but they'd have their work cut out. It had to be almost impossible to defend a fort that big.

After half an hour she reached the Fort and rapped on the gate. She wasn't surprised when the wicket gate in it opened straight away, the soldiers on the walls had been watching her since she rode out of the foothills. Tall soldier, well built, sandy hair. "Can I help you, Ma'am?" he asked, looking up at her.

Faith swung down off her horse and smiled falsely at him. "Sure you can help me. You can let me in."

"Can't do that, Ma'am." The soldier looked down, as if almost embarassed. "Can't let nobody in without them showing their Seal." What the hell? They still used seals out here?

"You mean like a Guild Seal?" she asked, feigning ignorance. As the soldier nodded she continued. "I don't have one, not yet. I was hoping to join a Guild here."

The soldier laughed. "You picked a strange place to try that one. Marshall Wilkins' orders, no one to be let in without a Seal of Allegiance, especially not Easterners like you. Even if they want to join a Guild."

"There a problem, Corporal Finn?" another soldier asked, stepping through the wicket gate. This one was a little shorter, and had untidy dark hair.

"No Sir, Captain Harris." Harris? It was a Captain Harris that had reported strange goings on in the Californian Territories to Washington, that had caused her to be sent out here. Could this be the same guy? Looked a little young for a Captain too. He must be some soldier. "Just some lady without a Guild Seal. Says she came here to join one."

"Well, Ma'am," Harris said to her, "Which Guild were you planning on joining?" Faith noticed his emphasis on the word 'which', and suddenly knew that he was the same Harris whose word she had ridden out here on, and that he had a fair idea why she was here.

"Oh no," she said, forcing a laugh as she played along, "I'm definitely not here to join any Witches' Guild." Shit, this was awkward. If Finn could just disappear maybe they could discuss things a little more normally, without all this beating around the bush bullshit.

"Thank you, Corporal," Harris said. "I'll deal with this." That's better, maybe they could talk about why she was here now.

"Aye, sir." Finn stepped back through the wicket gate, and Faith heard him walk away muttering to himself.

Harris looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, but rules are rules. We really can't let you in without a Seal." Faith was just about to spit a blistering reply at him when he threw something onto the floor, then crouched down to look at it. Faith smiled as she realised it was a metal disc. "Well look here," the captain said, "this would seem to be a Seal of the Whore's Guild." He stood up and handed it to her.

Ah shit, the Whore's Guild? Why couldn't she ever find a different cover? Still, it would get her inside. "Thank you. I trust this Seal is in order?" she asked, smiling sweetly at Harris. Oh, but the way he looked at her was a picture. The sight of her tight hide bodice was obviously going straight to his libido.

Harris swallowed. "Oh yes, Ma'am, it's in order alright. Just make sure you show it to the Sheriff's men inside if they ask for it. The only place they'd expect to find a whore outside after dark is between the whorehouse and the garrison."

Faith smiled and nodded. "Thanks. Looks like I could use a change of profession," she said as Harris signalled for the gate to be opened. She started to lead her horse inside, then turned back to face the Captain. "You were the one who wrote to Washington, weren't you?" she asked quietly.

Harris shook his head, mouthing the words "Not now." He looked down for a second, then squinted at her and spoke. "My girl helps out at Buffy's each afternoon, helps them do their books. I have to pass by there after sundown to take her home."

"Buffy's?" Faith asked, before realisation hit her. "The Whorehouse, right?" The Captain nodded. Faith smiled in thanks then lead her into the town.

***

The Whorehouse was chaotic. Faith was used to hiding out in such places, but this was the busiest brothel she'd seen in a long time. "I need to speak with Buffy," she said to a young girl who had just come through the door carrying a huge bundle of laundry. The girl gave her a strange look and hurried to the back of the house.

There was a bar, with a number of tables arranged beside it. Another counter was obviously where the business arrangements were made, and Faith had been waiting beside it for ten minutes watching whores and serving girls run in and out of the building. She was starting to get frustrated.

"You looking for me?" a young blonde woman called out, walking down the staircase at the back of the bar. Faith's jaw dropped. The woman was one of the most stunning whores she'd ever seen, and Faith had seen a lot during her time as a Witchfinder. She wore the same kind of dress as all the other whores, with a tight bodice that emphasised her breasts, but the colours were different. The other whores wore bright dresses in garish pinks, blues and greens, competing for the eye of a potential customer. This woman didn't need that. Her dress was black with red edgings, and she wore no make-up. She didn't need it. Similarly her hair flowed straight down her back, rather than being pinned into some painfully tight display.

"You Buffy?" Faith asked, knowing it was quite obviously a silly question. The way the other woman stood out, as much as the way she carried herself, said quite simply that she was a step above the others, and clearly marked her as the woman in charge. She could probably name her own price.

"Yeah," she replied, sweeping down the stairs regally. "I'm Buffy the bagpipe player. You don't look like you're equipped with a set of bagpipes though, so what do you want with me?"

"You got some balm so I can show you who I am?" Faith asked. This was where she was on dodgy ground. Hopefully Buffy would be part of the network, as most whorehouse madams were, but there was always a chance she was isolated enough not to, in which case she wouldn't have a clue what Faith was talking about.

Buffy's face took on a serious look. "So, Washington finally decided to send someone," she muttered. "Come through to the office, I've balm in there." Buffy lead Faith through a door behind the counter. Another young woman, not dressed as a whore or a serving girl, was sat at the office desk, studiously working on a ledger. "Anya," Buffy said as they entered the room, "Could you leave us a minute?" The girl smiled and left the room without a word. Anya. That must be Harris's girl. Faith took off her jacket and held out her forearm, palm upwards as Buffy took a bottle of creamy fluid from the desk drawer.

"I hate this bit," Faith muttered as Buffy poured some of the balm onto a cloth, then applied it to Faith's forearm. Faith winced at the burning sensation as the balm brought out her mark that identified her as a genuine Witchfinder - a small dark symbol that danced beneath her skin, like a moving tattoo. She looked up at Buffy as the blonde woman watched the mark dancing. She'd obviously never actually seen one before, and only knew of it from her predecessor. "I'm Faith, by the way," Faith said finally.

"Hi Faith," Buffy replied, shaking Faith's hand. "Welcome to Fort Sunshine."

Chapter Two: Gathering Clouds

Faith slouched lazily in the chair in Buffy's office, her booted feet resting disrespectfully on the desk in front of her. "Nice set up you've got here," she said, glancing around, as if looking for something in particular. "Got any liquor?" she asked. "Not the stuff you serve to the customers, the decent stuff."

Buffy grunted and unlocked a cupboard at the back of the office. "You don't hang 'round, do you?" Faith had been in the wilderness for six days, of course she wasn't going to hang around. She wanted liquor.

"I don't usually get time to hang 'round. I'm a Witchfinder. I turn up, do my job, then leave again. Hell, most of the time people don't let me hang 'round."

Buffy looked at Faith inquisitively as she handed her a glass of Bourbon. "How did you become a Witchfinder?" Well, that didn't take long. Five minutes and Faith was already getting awkward questions about her past.

Faith took a swig of the liquor then laughed. "It's gonna take a lot more than smooth liquor to ply that story out of me." Like Buffy had any business knowing it in the first place.

"Let me rephrase that," Buffy said, taking a swig from her own glass. "How does anyone become a Witchfinder?" Oh! Curiosity from the whore. Could it be that Faith was looking at a potential recruit?

"You gotta really want it," Faith said, staring into her glass. "Once they've done the ritual, it can't be undone. Two witches and a priest seal your life up into a package of duty and loneliness." So much for it being none of Buffy's business. Faith snarled at herself and wondered if she was going to end up giving away her life story after all.

"It can't be that bad, surely?" Buffy asked, knocking the rest of her Bourbon back and pouring another.

"Lady," Faith said, pushing her glass across the desk for Buffy to refill it, "I've had maybe three friends in the two years since I became a Witchfinder and one of them is my horse. People stay away from you. They're more scared of Witchfinders than of Witches. They don't want to end up falsely accused of Witchcraft. All that crap about the Middle Ages gets us a bad press."

"Does that ever happen?" Buffy asked, a little curious and a little afraid. "Falsely accusing people, I mean?" She refilled Faith's glass and pushed it back across the desk.

"It doesn't work like that," Faith said, before grabbing the glass and knocking it back in one go. Shit! This was good stuff. "When you're a Witchfinder you can tell the people who really use magic from those who pretend, or from those who've been singled out by a mob. And then when you've pronounced someone whose been mobbed as innocent, as sure as night follows day that mob'll turn on you. Like I said," Faith muttered and stared at her glass again, "it's a lonely job."

"And that's all there is to it - find the witch, free the innocent, then go?" Buffy asked, as if it sounded too simple. Which of course it was.

"If only it were. No, that's just the easy bit. The ritual that makes you a Witchfinder makes you immune to magic. Magic can't affect you in any way. That's why the ritual can't be undone. Magic is a part of the ritual, and would have to be a part of undoing it. That doesn't make evil witches any easier to catch though."

Buffy took another swig of bourbon. Faith's head was swimming a little from the alcohol, unstandable given that she'd been for days without a proper drink, but Buffy seemed to be holding her liquor fine. "It helps some, surely?" the whore asked.

"Oh yeah, it helps, but your quarry soon catches on. So they start doing things like pushing buildings over. It may take magic to begin with, but once a wall's leaning far enough it'll fall on its own. We're not immune to walls falling on us."

"How do you catch them then?" Buffy asked. "It sounds like things are a little stacked against you." This one was pretty sharp for a whore, Faith had to admit. Probably why she was the madam of the house at such a young age.

"We do have a kind of secret weapon," Faith replied, giving the other girl a sly smile. "We can undo a spell as it's cast, or just after it's cast. There are some really nasty spells out there. A powerful witch can stop a man's heart with a single word. A quick Witchfinder can even undo that, if she does it before the spell's aura fades." Faith looked about, tiring of the subject. "I've been in a lot of whorehouses, but this one sure is the busiest I've ever seen. What's everyone runnin' around for?"

"It's the first celebration of the Hundred Days. Twenty years ago Marshall Wilkins and his men built this fort in just one hundred days. Each year there's a celebration on the anniversaries of it starting and ending. Today is the anniversary of it starting. There'll be a big party in the streets tonight, and all my whores will be in such demand they'll all get to name their own prices."

Faith frowned. There were so many different rituals she could think of that revolved around one hundred days, most of them rites of purification. Probably nothing. She didn't even know what the problem was here yet and she was already seeing potential leads. Sometimes she was just far too jumpy. Still, it didn't hurt to ask. "Does the Marshall normally take a whore during the end celebration?"

Buffy started in surprise. Well, that answered the question already. Faith didn't need her to reply. "How... how did you know? He takes one every year."

Faith shook her head, smiling a pessimistic smile. She always seemed to be right about the worst possible things, and she was starting to get a bit tired of it. "Just a lucky hunch. Whoever he picks comes back pretty beat up too, don't she?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied, very quietly. "You've heard about this before, haven't you? You know what's going on."

"Purification rites normally involve one hundred days of purity, of both thought and deed. The ending of a dark purification rite is normally a number of brutal acts of sex and violence. It's supposedly a way of re-affirming the soul's darkness, after the ordeal of purity. Your Marshall, or someone close to him, is very very evil." Faith bit her lip. She could be stuck here for three months. Finding out who was behind this annual ritual would be a very delicate process, and would possibly be easiest just by waiting for the ritual's end.

"The girl who goes never remembers anything about it, either. They just act like they had far too much liquor the night before." Buffy downed another glass of bourbon quickly and gave Faith a troubled look. "Would anything bad happen to the soul of the girl? Would she be cursed?"

Faith looked Buffy straight in the eye, and saw the whore's fear, and found it hard to ask the next question. "Did he choose you one year?"

Buffy nodded silently, and a single tear ran down her cheek. She poured herself another glass of bourbon as her hands started shaking. As she set the bottle down on the desk her hand shook so much it knocked the bottle over. A splash of bourbon slopped onto the desk, the bottle was empty enough not to spill more than that. Buffy gripped the edge of the desk tightly in both hands, screwing her face up in anguish. Faith braced herself, waiting for the despairing wail and tears, but they never came. Buffy just stood there, refusing to let the hurt out.

There was a sudden knock on the office door. Buffy looked up suddenly, quickly wiping the corners of her eyes and hiding her pain behind an expression that was all business. "Who is it?" she called out, her voice hardly wavering. Faith was impressed at how quickly she pulled herself together.

"Captain Harris, Miss Summers," the voice called through the door. "I wondered if I could have a word with the young lady who rode into town today. Anya tells me she's in there with you."

Faith laughed. "Doesn't anyone get it," she muttered to Buffy, "I'm not a lady." She gestured at her clothes, and the way her body was slouched over the chair and desk. "Do I look the slightest bit like a lady to you."

Buffy smiled, a warm smile of someone genuinely cheered. "Come in, Captain," she called out, picking up the bottle and holding it upright. As the Captain stepped inside, doffing his hat, she waved the bottle in his direction. "Liquor?"

"No Miss Summers, I just come to walk my Anya home, and to talk to the lady here. It's not good to drink on duty, and I'll be on watch until the end of the celebration in the late hours." Faith watched him as he held his hat against his chest. He seemed like the true gentleman soldier, a man who would fight for the good of all, not grudging any hardship he endured for the greater good. There was a certain amount of naivety that went with that sort of attitude, and Faith wondered how long it would be until he showed it.

"So, Captain Harris," Faith began, swinging her legs off the desk and swiveling the chair round to face him. "What exactly was it made you write to Washington?"

Harris looked at the floor briefly, and for a moment Faith regretted throwing her attitude at him like that, he looked so stung by it. "Well, Miss," he replied, collecting himself quickly, "I'm not quite sure how to explain." The realisation struck Faith quickly. It was his naivety that had brought her out here - his staunch morals and ideas of exactly how the world should be. After what she had heard from Buffy, maybe there was something to be said for there being a bit of naivety in the world. "I was only stationed here a year ago, I got requested when Captain Gutierrez broke his neck falling off his horse. Even so, I began to notice things amiss very quickly."

Faith sat up, listening intently. In the corner of her eye she saw Buffy shudder and hug herself. Faith nodded, and all trace of mockery disappeared from her voice. "Go on," she said.

"Whenever my men did Watch duty at the Law House, they'd come back strange. Either mighty vicious or mighty scared. The vicious ones got into fights almost as soon as they were back in the garrison. The scared ones hardly spoke for hours afterwards, sometimes days. I tried talking to some o' the men about it, and when you mention it, they shrug it off. Say it's just a case of heatstroke." Harris swallowed, as if about to say something he couldn't quite believe. "Two weeks later I noticed. The Law House is well shaded. It must be the coolest part of the town. I've never done Watch duty at the Law House, but I've always felt mighty strange when I've been in there."

Faith began to feel troubled, more so than she had been at Buffy's revelations. Whatever was happening, there was a lot of power involved, more than she had faced before. "Mighty strange?" she asked. "A feeling something's wrong, but you can't quite explain it? Suddenly feeling less safe with no reason?" When Harris nodded she spoke again. "You're a good man, Captain. Some might say too good a man. But the same people as say that will also ignore strangeness until its too late."

Captain Harris blushed. "Well, that's mighty kind of you, Miss..." He paused and nodded to her expectantly.

"Faith," Faith said, as soon as she realised what he was getting at. "My name's Faith. Nothing else, just Faith." She held the Captain's gaze sternly, willing him to go against his sense of what should be and just drop the matter.

"Well, Miss Faith," Harris replied as Faith let out a quiet sigh of relief. "I thank you for your kind words, and I'm glad you managed to get here. Things are so queer in this town, I'm sure that whatever is going on isn't good."

"Don't thank me yet, Captain," Faith said back to him with stern sincerity. "Things may advance to the point where I have to call upon you to bear witness, and if it's against a superior of yours it won't do your reputation good."

"I understand, Ma'am," the Captain replied. "I'm just trying to do what's right here. Father always told me a soldier fought for his fellows, not for no crazy generals." He backed towards the door. "I'll bid you two ladi- I'll bid you two goodbye, and take my Anya home. Enjoy the celebrations."

"I don't feel like celebrating now," Buffy said as Harris shut the door behind him. She wore an irritated frown, but Faith didn't really notice that. She was feeling the effects of the alcohol, and certain instincts which had no satisfactory outlet while alone in the wilderness were pushing to the forefront of her consciousness.

"Then don't go to the celebrations," Faith said, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "You said tonight any whore could name her own price. Why don't you name yours and we'll have a celebration of our own." She pouted slightly as she finished talking.

"What?" Buffy said, as if she was unsure what the Witchfinder was saying. Faith had seen Buffy's reaction to her pout, and knew full well that the whore knew what she was asking. But then maybe Buffy was worried she'd misunderstood.

"I want to buy you for the night," Faith said, slightly flustered from having to spell it out.

Buffy laughed, in slight disbelief. "You couldn't afford me."

Faith shook her head, a mirthful glint in her eyes. "Witchfinding pays better than you think. Name your price."

Buffy paused for a moment, then smiled and unlocked the door at the back of her office. "I'll name it in the morning," she said quietly.

Chapter Three: Vanishings and Visitings

Buffy had been lying awake while Faith slept on for over an hour before their peace was disturbed. The morning sun was shining in around the edges of the window drapes, throwing shafts of daylight through the shadowy room. Buffy could tell who it was by the desperate knock on the door, she didn't have to wait to hear the voice.

"Miss Summers! Miss Summers!" It was Harmony. Only Harmony would disturb her when she had company. Only Harmony would consider the most trivial of matters worthy of the Madam's attention.

"Come in, Harmony," she called through the door, sitting up in bed and pulling the quilt up to cover her breasts. This had better be good. No matter how hard she tried Buffy didn't seem to be able to convince Harmony that birdshit on the windows was not needy for her attention.

"It's Miss Martini, Miss Summers," Harmony said as she threw the door open. Oh shit, what had Sheila done now? Buffy wondered for the second time that week and possibly the tenth time that month why she still retained Sheila. Well, she was popular with the clientele. A lot of them liked a bad girl. "She was bought by the Marshall last night," Harmony continued. The bed jolted a little as Faith's stirring form suddenly went rigidly still. "I had his men swear to bring her back by dawn, and now it's nigh on noon." Harmony was clearly panicking. It was obvious to Buffy that Harmony had decided the situation was her own fault, as she had probably acted as clerk to hire Sheila out.

"Harmony, calm down," Buffy said sternly. "It's not your fault. Now go and send for Sheriff Snyder while I dress." Not that Buffy expected the Sheriff to be of any help whatsoever. Harmony hesitated. Buffy stared at her insistently. "Go and fetch the Sheriff," she repeated.

Harmony retreated from the room unhappily, pulling the door closed behind her.

Buffy slid out from under the covers and padded across to the other side of the room, opening one of her wardrobes. "Faith, what's happening?" she asked nervously. "He's never taken a girl at the beginning of the 100 days before, and whenever he took one at the end she was always back by dawn."

Faith propped herself up on one elbow. "If the pattern's changed, so have the rituals," she said thoughtfully. "The past years of purification could merely have been preparation for something else. I figured maybe they were tribute to one of the Elder Spirits or Demons, but it seems I was wrong."

Buffy slipped into her dress and started fastening it. She had selected a business-like smoky grey dress, with a modest amount of yellow decoration. As she turned back to face Faith she found the sight of the other girl's near-perfect breasts quite distracting. "What can I do to help?" she asked solemnly. "I just want my girls to be safe." This was too much this soon after waking. She wanted to be able to return to bed, to rejoin Faith and lose herself in pleasure as she had done the night before. It seemed Fate and Marshall Wilkins had conspired to deny her that option, however. "I just want my girls to be safe," she repeated almost silently, biting her lip.

Faith sat up, still leaning in Buffy's direction a little. Stop swaying, dammit! It's too distracting. Buffy swallowed and did her best to focus on Faith rather than her... attributes. "Can we rely on your Sheriff?" the brunette asked.

Buffy laughed cynically. "He'd not piss on a whore if she was on fire - unless he was in need, of course - and he answers to the Marshall. You can rely on him as much as you can rely on a rattler in your bed not to bite." She picked Faith's clothes up and threw them at her. "And put those on. I can't be having your titties swinging around making me needy when there's important things to worry about."

Faith looked down at her breasts proudly and folded her arms under them. "Will my titties get me a discount then?" she asked grinning, before climbing out of bed and starting to dress.

"No," Buffy said in a more serious tone. "But you help me find out what's happened to my girl and you might just get your second night for free."

***

"Miss Summers," the Sheriff began wearily. "I thought it bad enough that your predecessor saw fit to send one of her snivelling sluts to fetch me every year when a whore got a little carried away with celebrating. It pains me to discover that you plan to continue the tradition." He was a little man, and definitely lacked the physique normally required of one in his profession. The Lord only knew how he came to be Sheriff.

"This has been a'happenin' every year!" Buffy exclaimed. "Every year the Marshall's taking a girl, every year she's coming back battered and bruised. This year she wasn't coming back at all!" The Sheriff stood his ground well in the face of Buffy's fury. She had expected his indifference, but these were her girls they were talking about, dammit!

"You said the girl's name was Sheila Martini?" Buffy nodded, somewhat exasperated at the Sheriff's question. "Now, I know Fort Sunshine is big for a Frontier Fort, but Martini is an unusual name, so I'm gonna assume we're talking about the same Sheila Martini who I've arrested more than twenty times these past three months. I won't bore you with a list of her misdemeanours as I'm sure you can compile it yourself from the counterfoils of the fines of hers you paid." Did the man even know how to be concise?

"Sheriff, we both know that what she's done before does not change the fact that it's Law in this town to see a whore back here by dawn if you buy her away for the night, and that to do different is kidnapping." Buffy's anger was boiling, but it was starting to give way to despair.

"You think I give a rat's turd what happens to a whore?" Snyder asked with an expression of bored contempt. "Your girl is not the only person gone astray this morning, and since the others include my Deputy Lochley and two of Cap'n Harris' guard, I think she's far and away the least of my worries." He sneered as he finished speaking.

Faith sat up suddenly in the chair she had been occupying quietly in the corner whilst listening to the exchange and polishing her flintlock. "How many people are missing in total?"

Snyder turned to look at the brunette, obviously noticing her for the first time. "Who in God's name is she? And what's she doing with a gun? Ladies aren't allowed guns in Fort Sunshine." Buffy was dismayed at the sudden change in direction of the conversation but the look of outrage on Snyder's face almost made up for that.

Faith stood up, thrusting her bosom forward in case the Sheriff had so far failed to notice it. She placed her flintlock on Buffy's desk and pulled a small pouch from her belt. "Three things, Sheriff," she said arrogantly. "One, as I keep trying to tell you people, I'm no lady. If you're in need of convincing, the fact I was Miss Summer's customer last night should help." The Sheriff went bright red at that, though whether it was from outrage or embarassment or something else, Buffy couldn't tell. "Two, I got more guns. I even got me two of them fancy revolvers. It don't mean a damn what laws you have 'bout women and guns though, they don't apply to me." Buffy tried her best not to giggle as the Sheriff's complexion started the change from red to purple. Faith took a deep breath, undoing the drawstrings of her pouch. "This is because of Three. I'm a duly appointed diplomat of the East Coast City States, which means the treaty signed by the Governor of the Californian Territories as part of the negotiations to join the Union means that, amonst other things, I get to carry guns for my own protection." As she finished talking Faith tipped the solid silver Seal of the Union from her pouch onto the desk. Both Snyder and Buffy stared at it, one agog with disbelief, the other with awe.

"What the hell is a Union spy doing here?" the Sheriff asked. Buffy frowned, wondering if Faith had perhaps gone a little too far too soon.

Faith smiled sweetly. "Officially, I'm here to see that common opinion supports the Californian Territories joining the Union. It wouldn't do for there to be an uprising as soon as your Governor signs the Charter. Gotta let the ink dry first, at least."

Snyder gave Faith a sour look. "And unofficially?" he asked with resignation. Buffy couldn't decide if he really expected a plain answer to that.

Faith leaned towards him, both hands resting on the desk. She looked him straight in the eye. "Unofficially, it's important you tell me just how many people disappeared last night."

Snyder mumbled something under his breath that Buffy didn't quite catch. Whether Faith did was hard to tell, as the brunette's expression stayed steady in the same overdone pleasant smile. "Five," he said finally. "Five people have disappeared."

"Thank you Sheriff," Faith replied. She picked up the Seal and her gun from the desk and sat back down.

"Now Miss Summers," the Sheriff said in his disinterested voice. "If this little comedy is now played out, I'm sure you can appreciate I've more important things to be doing that talking to a Whorehouse Madam."

Buffy fumed at the dismissal, but managed to mimmick the same false smile Faith had presented him with mere moments before. "Sure I appreciate it, Sheriff. I just hope you can appreciate this. If I get the slightest inkling you're treating the disappearance of my girl any less seriously than the others, you'll be barred from this house except for matters of the Law. Last I knew this was the only whorehouse in Fort Sunshine, so getting barred would leave you bedding your hand for the rest of your life."

Snyder stared at Buffy angrily. He opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it and stormed out of the office.

Faith giggled with glee. "Nicely done, B!" She clapped her hands childishly in appreciation.

Buffy spun round to face the other girl. "Why'd you go and tell him who you were?" she asked, incredibly confused. "He'll only go and tell the Marshall."

Faith shrugged. "I needed to know how many people were gone. The Marshall would have found out about me in the next day or two anyway. Whorehouses ain't the best places for keeping secrets - sooner or later word about me will get out. This way, the Marshall will be left thinking I had a good reason for revealing myself before word of mouth got round, and with luck he'll being worrying himself about it. It may even force his hand." The childish grin reappeared on her face. "I love making the bad guys nervous."

***

It was late afternoon when Buffy heard the whooping in the street. She was in the main lounge discussing the day-to-day business with Veruca. Both of them stopped talking when they heard Faith's loud exclamation from the office. "Awwww Shit!"

"We'd better leave it there for now," Buffy said. "Be sure to tell the other girls - no one's to work the garrison or the Law House until I decide it's safe. If a soldier wants a whore, he's to have her here."

Veruca nodded, then smiled nervously and curtsied. Buffy was about to berate her for acting too ladylike when Faith burst out of the office and made for the door. "Spike!" she yelled out of the door as she opened it. "You no-good piece of sun-dried horseturd! Get out of here! I'm on a case!" She paused briefly. Buffy hurried to the door, intrigued. "And take that worthless sack of Irish crud with you!" Buffy nudged Faith through the door and stepped outside herself so she could see what was going on.

There were two riders in the street, still on horseback. The nearest one, who Buffy assumed was Spike, had short sun-bleached hair and no hat. He had a passenger... no wait, a prisoner - her hands were tied to the saddle - riding in front of him. She was a young woman, one who could fetch a handsome fee in Buffy's profession, it was easy to tell that despite the ragged state of her dress and her long dark hair. The two of them rode a sandy coloured horse, which looked somewhat dull compared to the impressive white horse of the other rider. The white horse's rider was dressed in a long black coat and black leather slacks, with a wide-brimmed black hat covering his face in shadow.

"What is it this time?" Spike asked with a big grin on his face. "A plague of toads? A cow born with two udders? God forbid! There's not a soldier with a brain here is there?"

Buffy turned to Faith, who was smiling warmly. "Who are these people?" she asked the brunette.

Faith grinned. "They're my other two friends." Buffy gave her a somewhat blank look. "Apart from my horse, remember?" Ah yes. Three friends since she became a Witchfinder, and one of those was her horse. "The blonde guy with the clever mouth is Spike. The quiet Irish guy in the hat is Angel. He's been known to go for days without speaking a word."

Buffy put one hand on Faith's shoulder and leant forward to whisper to the other girl. "Which one is better at pleasuring a woman then?"

Faith smiled and whispered back. "I wouldn't know, I've only ever bedded one of them. I'll leave it to you to figure out who." She walked towards Spike's horse. "It's not why I'm here, but now that you mention it one of the Captains does seem suspiciously intelligent. Who's the dame?"

The captive girl moved about in the saddle and tried to pull her hands free. "I am not a dame, lady!" she shrieked.

"There there, pretty," Spike said. "You know it only gets me excited if you wriggle." He chuckled lewdly.

"Don't tease the merchandise Spike," Angel muttered. "Not while we're in a civilised town, anyways. It's not professional."

The girl shifted back in the saddle suddenly, a move which Spike seemed to find rather uncomfortable judging by the pained grimace on his face. "The merchandise has a name," she said angrily. "I'm called Cordy Chase. What's more, my father's financial problems don't give you the right to treat me like some hated outlaw!"

Faith looked at Spike curiously, one eyebrow raised. Buffy was similarly interesting in hearing the situation.

"Cordy here has a loving father," Spike explained. "He loves her so much he put her down as security for a loan he took out. It's a fairly barbaric thing to do, even I'll admit that, but it's still legal in most of the Mexican Provinces. When Daddy didn't pay up, Miss Chase here become someone else's property. She ran away, of course, so her owner set a bounty on her. That's where we got involved, naturally."

"Spike and Angel here are bounty hunters," Faith said quickly to Buffy.

"I got that part," Buffy replied. "Could I interest you in coming in?" she said boldly to the two men. "I'm sure after your long days in the wilderness with tempting yet untouchable merchandise you just can't wait to patronise my establishment."

"T'would be a pleasure, Ma'am," Angel replied. "If you'd just let us deliver Miss Chase to her owner, we'd be happy to sample your wares later." He doffed his hat politely then moved his horse on.

"Can't argue with my partner," Spike added. "We'll be back, I promise." He turned his head from Buffy to Faith. "Even if it's only to have a few words with you, Missy," he said to the brunette, waggling his finger sternly. He winked at her then rode on into the town.

"I hate it when they do that," Faith muttered. "They have a knack for turning up in a town a day or so after me. If for any reason I've got somewhere and managed not to bring trouble with me, you can bet they'll show up with it instead." She grinned. "Still, it makes it more fun, don't you think?"

Buffy's expression was unreadable.