Issue 13 YEAR THREE SEPTEMBER Author: Lonni Holland

HAWKEYE Armed with a high-tech arsenal and the surpassing skill to use it, Clint Barton dons the familiar purple costume and fires justice from his bow.

The Good Old Days (Part Two)

Receiving a message from the past, Hawkeye used a modified version of Dr. Doom's time machine to return to Arizona in 1878. Together with the Two Gun Kid and the Rawhide Kid, Clint headed off to try to stop a band of old west supervillians who had found some of Kang's equipment abandoned there in 1873. Trapped in a blind canyon our heroes were menaced by three monsters created by using Kang's machine on some coyotes.

"Clint?"

I could hear someone calling me, but I couldn't find them. It was dark and cold and my head ached. If I could just go back to sleep for a bit maybe it would all go away.

"Clint?"

There was that annoying voice again. I cracked my eyes open a bit but a blinding light made me close them, fast. If I lay perfectly still then nothing hurt, at least not much anyway. I sank back deeper into sleep, or whatever it was that I was doing.

"Clint?"

Blast it, if I ever figured out who was bugging me I'd pop him one. Couldn't he just leave me alone? I could hear some poor bastard moaning in pain. It gradually filtered through my head that the poor bastard was me.

"Clint?"

"Wha???"

"That a boy, Clint. Now open your eyes and try to keep them open this time."

I did, and was sorry. The brightness ripped into my head like a hot knife. I had no idea where I was, what had happened, or who had run me over with a truck either. I tried to focus and gradually things started coming in clearly. It wasn't really that bright because I seemed to be inside a cave of some sort. Two Gun was leaning over me, wiping my forehead with a damp cloth. Nice thought, but it wasn't helping. I struggled to remember what had happened, anything at all.

"Unngghh... man, I feel like shit!" The words came out slurred, barely recognizable. I closed my eyes again, figuring if I didn't have to look at the world maybe it would go away and let me suffer in peace but Two Gun shook my shoulder, forcing me to stay awake. I thought about swearing at him but couldn't remember any of the right words. I shook my head to clear a few of the cobwebs. It worked, the cobwebs all dissolved into high voltage electric shocks running through my brain. For a minute I thought I was going to black out again but I fought it. Man, Hank's recall button with it's infirmary setting was sounding better all the time. NO! I wouldn't give in like that. I swallowed hard and attempted to make some sense this time. "Matt, this may sound like a real dumb question, but why am I still alive?"

He laughed. "Well, I guess you are going to live after all if you can make jokes." It hadn't been a joke but I wasn't quite up to explaining that. "You've been drifting in and out for over an hour now. When I saw that thing clip you on the back of the head with his tail I figured you were a goner." Great, so a head injury and I'd been out an hour? Wonderful, I likely had a concussion and I didn't think Hank had packed any handy dandy brain fixer uppers in the medical gear he had given me.

Better sit up, it'd either help me or kill me. For a second I thought it had killed me. Matt held me up as I fought the dizziness and nausea but thankfully it passed in a minute or two. Now, let's see if I could talk. "So, that still doesn't answer the question. Where are we and how did we get away?" I looked around, trying hard not to move my head much as I did. "And where's Rawhide for that matter?"

He explained. After I had jumped off my panicky horse it had bolted. One of the mutated coyotes had gone after it and caught it. True to their species the other two had headed for the fallen prey, dumping me rather unceremoniously behind. Rawhide had hauled me up on his horse like a sack of potatoes, and then the Kids had managed to get us into this cave. Rawhide was off in the back of the shelter checking on the hobbled and blindfolded mounts, who were still pretty freaked out by the presence of the coyotes. The mouth of the cave was too small for them to get into, but we were trapped in here.

I was still feeling pretty foggy but something he had just said was setting off alarm bells in my head, if I could just figure out what it was. We talked a bit more but part of my attention was elsewhere, part trying to clear my head enough to at least sound coherent, and part trying to make sense of what I had heard. It seemed that I had taken the worst of the damage in the fight, which seemed par for the course. Matt had a crease in his side and Johnny had a nick in his shoulder as a result of all the gunfire. I had a bruised wrist from where one of the Fat Man's boomerangs had hit me and a minor flesh wound on my thigh from a bullet that had gotten a bit too close. It was the manhandling I had taken from the over grown coyote that had hurt the most. A probable concussion and a bunch of bruised ribs were the result. Well. I'd gotten by with a lot worse, I'd manage.

I kept mulling over what Matt had told me as I waited for my headache to go away. I already knew part of the problem, we hadn't been acting like a team. These guys were used to working alone, but from my years as an Avenger I knew all about banding together for the common good. We had to become a team instead of three guys fumbling along or we were going to get whupped, every time. Okay Barton, you think you're such a hot shot leader, can you pull this one together?

Rawhide came back to join us. The horses were calmed down some. Outside our canine captors began to howl. Canine! Man, I musta been hit harder on the head than I thought to have not seen this. We had been too busy reacting to stop and plan things out but now I had the edge I needed. I outlined my plan to the guys, who seemed contented enough to follow my lead.

It was simple once we were organized. We watched until the critters weren't looking at the front of the cave then Matt and Johnny took off down one side of the canyon on their horses. Naturally the beasts charged after them, dogs would chase anything that ran, and coyotes are still close enough to dogs to act the same. That was my cue. I slipped out of the cave and let fly with a couple of high frequency sonic arrows. They freaked! After all they were coyotes, no matter how much they had been evolved, and that high pitched sound and those big ears were a natural for a patent pending Barton screamer arrow. While they were howling and rubbing at their ears the Kids circled back, Matt grabbed me and we bolted. Once we got to the mouth of the canyon a couple of well placed blast arrows brought enough of those rock walls down to make a nice fence to corral three very annoyed mutated coyotes. I crossed my fingers and hoped they'd change back eventually and we galloped off.

So, now that we had that taken care of that, it was time to get back to our first priority, stopping Iron Mask and his cohorts. As they had ridden off they had hollered back that they'd give our regards to the President so we knew where they were headed, Winslow. Thing was, we had an advantage. They had a wagon and had to follow the established trails but we could cut across rougher country and beat them there, even though we were running behind. We lit out across the sands and I started to do some serious talking.

It was about four in the afternoon when we reached Show Low. From there it was another day's ride to Winslow but we needed to rest up and get me a horse too, because our mounts wouldn't last long riding double like we had been. On the way we'd gone over a lot of stuff, like teamwork and splitting up your opponents and watching each other's back, stuff I knew like the back of my hand but these guys had to learn. Cap had taught me and I had taught the Whackos but this was a whole different ball game. I had been expecting teamwork and had ended up with a pair of individuals instead. There was no time for the practice sessions we had back with the Avengers but maybe some of what I had explained would sink in. It felt funny, leading guys I had looked up to since I was a little guy, but someone had to lead and I guess I was the most qualified. The Kids seemed to think so anyway.

Show Low was a typical western town of the times, lots of dusty wooden buildings, a general store, a sheriff's office, a livery stable and a combination hotel and saloon. We left the horses at the stable, arranged for a horse and saddle for me for tomorrow and headed to the hotel. I had plenty of the money that YJ had given me so I figured I could treat us to a comfortable night's rest before we hit the trail again.

The Desert Canteen was a real grimy looking place but it was all the town had to offer so we headed in. There was a dark haired bearded guy behind the bar. He swiped at the counter with an old rag and said, "Welcome to DC's, strangers, what'll it be?"

"Uh, you the owner?"

"Bah!" He spat into the spittoon the corner. "That's Josh. Punk kid inherited it from his old man. Name's Clay. I run the place, he just causes trouble."

I wondered about that, but shrugged and continued, "Well, how about three beers, three baths and the three best rooms in the house." He was frowning at me so I slapped some cash on the bar, figuring that'd change his tune. It did.

"Three beers, coming up. Can't oblige you on the baths I'm afraid. Jake runs the bathhouse down the street but he's been sick so it's closed up. I can get some hot water in your rooms though." He wrinkled his nose a bit and continued. "Looks like you could use it." He motioned to one of the bargirls. "Sally, fix up rooms eight, nine and ten right away."

Smart ass! It's hard to ride all day and smell like a rose. Of course none of these people had heard of antiperspirant, so he didn't smell much better. I took a gulp of the beer he had plunked down in front of me and almost spit it out. It was warm and oily and full of sediment. Oh well, I guessed maybe I'd switch to water later or maybe even the rotgut they passed off as whiskey. I forced down another few mouthfuls then he gave us the keys to our rooms and we split, figuring to get some rest while we could.

So, it sure wasn't a five star establishment but it was clean (sort of) and the bed looked comfortable (maybe) and at least the water in the pitcher on the sideboard was hot. I stripped right down fast. I'd been in the same clothes for forty eight hours and between the heat and the sand and the sweat I was starting to itch all over. I had another change of clothes and hoped I could find a laundry to clean these ones.

I started to wash up. I rubbed at the stubble on my chin but I didn't have a razor and wasn't about to trust the local barber with his straight razor. Maybe I'd just grow a beard, be a nice change. I cleaned up as best I could and was just contemplating a nap before dinner when I heard a noise behind me.

"Well, you're an eager beaver, you didn't even wait for me to get here before you got out of your duds. So I reckon you want to get right down to it then."

I whirled around. There was one of the bargirls standing just inside the door, undoing her own clothes. Shit! I hadn't heard her come in and I was standing there buck naked. I looked around frantically for something to cover myself with and settled for the towel, which seemed to be getting smaller by the minute. "Uhhh, who are you and what are you doing in here?"

She had her blouse and skirt off by this time and was undoing her undergarments. "Well, honey, you did say the best rooms after all. And best means that companionship comes with the room, of course. My name's Emily and I'm all yours until tomorrow. So what'll it be, cowboy? Name your pleasure." She glanced at my towel and smiled. "I see you're ready for me at least."

Oh Lord! This was not what I had bargained for. My face was flaming. What would the guys think of the arrangements I had unwittingly made? I was in the middle room and from either side I could hear the sounds of giggling, then the creak of a bed from Two Gun's room. Terrific, now I was pimping for two of the old west's most loved heroes. This whole thing was just turning out to be one embarrassing situation after another.

Back to my own troubles, Emily was now hugging me, pulling at my towel and trying to drag me to the bed. She was attractive enough but, as much as Marcy had given my morals a bit of a shake, * I wasn't quite ready for this. She grabbed at the towel again and I realized, much to my agitation, that part of me was ready, but still... I was an Avenger, I had an image to maintain, even if it was about a hundred years before the team would exist.

* in issue 11

I pushed her gently away and mumbled, "This isn't exactly what I had in mind right now." She looked puzzled so I continued, "See, I've had a pretty rough couple of days, and I uhhh, well I was planning on going to bed for a while, but to get some sleep, that's all."

She stepped back, hands on her hips, and looked me carefully up and down. Man, I wished she'd stop looking at the damned towel. "Well, you do look pretty banged up I guess. How about I clean and bandage that little ol' cut on your leg then give you a massage. That should make you feel better."

Okay, I could go for that. Bobbi used to give me massages when I got too tense or just for fun and I used to return the favor, of course. But first, the towel had to go. "Sounds great but first, how about you turning your back for a minute while I get something on."

She did, but she giggled, "You're shy! That's just so sweet."

Terrific, I really needed to be sweet! I dropped the towel and grabbed my boxers and yanked them on. I sat on the bed while she bandaged up my leg, not that it was that bad or anything, but it at least diverted her attention. I flopped down on my stomach and she straddled my hips and started to rub my back. I could hear what was going on in the rooms on either side, and I must admit I was tempted, but she was a good masseuse and as my spine melted I just fell asleep instead.

I had woke up a couple of hours later with Emily snuggled up beside me, sleeping, her head on my chest and one arm stretched across me. That was actually kind of nice, and I was considering just lying there cuddling for a while but I didn't want her to wake up and get the wrong idea. I slid out from under her, got up and started to get dressed. She woke up and did the same. We didn't discuss our lack of extracurricular activity, which was just fine with me.

We headed downstairs and bumped into Matt and Johnny on the way. We had agreed that we should steer clear of code names here. They each had their arms around their respective female companions so I slipped mine around Emily's waist. She just smiled knowingly at me and I figured I was in trouble again. Damned competitiveness, screws me every time.

We had a decent enough meal and Matt ordered couple of bottles of whiskey. None of the girls drank much but the guys kept filling my glass each time they filled their own, so of course I had to drink it. Stark's taste in scotch must have finally gotten through to me because this stuff tasted almost as bad as the beer, and it burned all the way down too, but I kept on drinking, because the others were. Still, I felt pretty good by the time we headed into the main part of the saloon. I'd had a massage, a sleep, some good food and a few drinks, bad as they had been, my bruises were healing, somewhat anyway, and there were no bad guys to worry about, at least not tonight anyway. Of course that's when it hit the fan.

We were sitting at a table near the piano player when the noise got our attention.

"Clay! Where are my pictures??? Do you have any idea how much work I put into those pictures and you took them all down!" There was this skinny dark haired kid at the bar, screaming at the bartender, He didn't even look old enough to be there but I didn't know if they had age of majority laws in 1878.

Clay just shrugged. "Josh, gimme a break, you had those damned pictures everywhere. They were even in front of the shelves! Do you have any idea how long it takes me just to load the supplies when you have all those stupid pictures in the way?" Hmph, they sounded like me and Cap back when we used to get into it.

"Stupid? Stupid????" Man, the kid was really getting upset. "This is my bar! Mine! It was my dad's and now it's mine and if I want pictures then I expect to see pictures." He slammed his fist down on the bar then grimaced. Holding his sore hand he continued, his voice getting louder by the minute, "And where is Twilight?!? That's a classic. It cost me a fortune and you keep hiding it." Actually they sounded like me and Hank Pym back in the days when we used to get into it. I was wondering if I should interfere and was half standing up but Matt pulled me back and shook his head. Okay, I'd wait a bit and see how it played out. I had another drink.

"That's it, I've had enough." The burly bartender reached behind the bar, pulled out a big board and slammed it down. "I've had three different guys threaten to burn this place to the ground if I kept that thing up and I shoulda let them but I like this job, at least when you're not here driving me crazy. Right now I'm not taking any more guff from you. I'm gonna tan your hide just like your pappy shoulda done before he died." Or maybe they sounded like me and Agent when we used to get into it. Still, I couldn't stay out of it now, he was gonna hit the kid. I tossed back the rest of my drink and got to my feet.

I musta stood up too fast cause my head spun a bit, but it passed and I headed for the ruckus, as Matt groaned. Hey, I'm an Avenger, I'm supposed to protect people, even if they are loud mouthed kids, right? By the time I got to the bar Josh was yanking his gun out of his gun belt, or trying to. I grabbed his hand and forced it down and the little bastard pulled the trigger. Thankfully the bullet just hit the floor but it was way closer to my boot than I was really happy about. The bartender still had the board in his hand and he swung it at the kid's head. I blocked it with my arm, momentarily forgetting that I wasn't wearing the metal wristbands that are part of my costume. I remembered fast enough.

"Shit!" Damn, that hurt! "Okay you two, chill would you?"

Clay looked puzzled. "Chill? Look cowboy, I don't care of you're cold, just let me and Josh settle this."

Yeah, right, had to remember to watch the slang. "Listen, I'm sure there's some way we can work this out. Josh, how about you and I go talk about this okay?"

He grumbled, and so did the bartender but at least he let me lead him away. I suppose all that riding earlier had made my feet swell cause my boots felt tight. At least, I was having a bit of trouble walking, but I got him back to our table eventually. We sat down and he told me all about his art. Seems he was a collector and was always sticking pictures up and he and Clay had been arguing about it for a year since Josh had become owner of the bar. Sounded easy enough to me. I suggested he only put up a few of them and rotate them on a regular basis. I conned him into taking the one picture they had bitched most about, and putting it in his private office, for exclusive viewing. He sounded enthused and bought us another bottle of whiskey. That had been almost too easy. Once an Avenger I guess, even if this hadn't been a world shattering problem.

The conversation flowed around me after that. I had another drink, then another, and caught some odd snips here and there. The lighting wasn't the best and it must have been getting pretty smoky in there cause everything was looking a bit blurred. Emily was hanging onto my arm, and I was seriously considering leaving and getting some more sleep, when I caught something Josh was saying. The conversation had drifted to our heading for Winslow the next day and Josh was getting upset again, this time about the President.

"He's a fake, you know. He isn't President Hayes, so I don't know why you are even bothering." I tried to ask him what he meant but my mouth didn't seem to be working real well so I didn't bother. He went on anyway. "I know him, at least my dad did, and he isn't even coming down here, although he told my dad that the next time he was in the territory that he would. He wouldn't even respond to my telegram, and I know he'd never do that. He and my dad were close when we were back east, and he was like an uncle to me."

Hmm, now that sounded like something I should be paying attention to, but maybe I needed to fix the batteries in my hearing aids because all of the conversation around me seemed to be getting blurred. Emily was tugging on my arm and trying to get me to stand up. She was such a sweet kid, I figured it was easier just to go with her than to argue about it. We headed for the stairs up to our room. Man, she must have drank more than I though cause she sure seemed to be staggering a bit, but I kept my arm around her waist, just like hers was around mine.

When we got to the room she started taking off my clothes. Well, that was okay, I'd stop her before she got too far. Naturally I had to ask the obligatory 'what's a nice girl like you..' question. It was pretty simple, Her dad had owed Josh's dad a lot of money. When her dad died in an accident she started working here to pay off the debt. Man, that sucked! She was gorgeous, and wonderful and no man would consider her as eligible for marriage after working as a bar girl. It wasn't fair. I took her in my arms and looked into her eyes. Blast, she was lovely. I had to do something to help her. We sat on the bed together and I finally had something I just had to say.

"Emily, I don't have to go home, you know. After we're finished what we have to do I can come back. So, how about it, will you marry me?"

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Oh brother, take my eyes off the screen for a few minutes and look what the boy goes and does... starts drinking stuff way stronger than he's used to and then tries to get hitched to some hot little filly who is old enough to be his great great grandmother. Now he's going to expect me to get him out of it when he wakes up sober and hung over I bet. Hmph, serve him right if I just left him there and let him try to talk his own way out of it.

Hope you enjoyed the guest visit of a couple of our friends from Faux-DC this issue. Next time: wedding bells? Hmmm.... we'll see, but watch for another surprising guest appearance in The Good Old Days.. part three.

Now if you just can't wait to read more of Hawkeye then check out Mark's AWC epic saga World Without which started earlier this month in AWC 109 and continues next month with a double sized extravaganza.

Lonni Holland March 10, 1999

lonni@paratime.ca