BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL

HISGOODGIRL

That Which Shapes A Man 5/13
Friday, January 12, 2007

Jayne’s coming up the hard way on Sunderland and finds he’s gotten in over his head when the Corrigan gang takes on their biggest job yet and he's faced with tough choices.


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 2306    RATING: 9    SERIES: FIREFLY

Title: That Which Shapes A Man Chapter Title: Surely A Man

Author: hisgoodgirl Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss. Just one woman’s take on the story. Didn’t get paid. Characters: This chapter – Jayne, ofc, omc Warning: PG-15 for language, adult situations, violence Setting: Just prior to "Those Left behind"; also, twenty-five years previously. Word Count: 3,258; chapter five of thirteen

A/N: From the first time I watched Firefly, I wondered what circumstances might have shaped the character of Jayne Cobb, an exceptionally complex man. The given name "Jayne" was a common variant of "John" in Victorian England. This story emerged from the questions I asked.

Thanks to my excellent beta, ArtemisPrime. Italics represent internal dialogue, emphasis, Chinese phrases. To read the previous chapters, click on my name above.

Questions, thoughts and comments are sincerely appreciated. Thanks!

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Chapter Five: Surely A Man

Long before…

The latest job goes well. Les has a knack for scouting out opportunities and Jared, a good sense of timing. Word’s begun to get around up in the hills that some young bucks are running a little wild, but so far, the boys have been careful and fortunate.

One late spring afternoon, as the worst of the snow shifts into rain, the gang sits around the old table, playing poker and telling tales. Amos looks grimly at his hand and takes another swig from the whisky bottle they’re sharing. “Lady Luck must wanna nail my ass. Ain’t had a decent hand all afternoon,” he whines. “Guess I’m just off my game.”

“Probably just need to git laid good.” Les glances sidelong at Jared and smirks. They both know that homely Amos has about as little luck with the ladies as he does with cards.

Amos glowers back. “Ain’t like you two been gittin’ any action, either, ‘ceptin’ the home-made sort.” He sneers across at Jayne. “How ‘bout you, kid? Ever got laid?”

Jayne puts the liquor bottle to his lips and swallows, feeling the burn of the raw spirits fill his throat. He’s been bluffin’ at cards, best bluff about women. “Hell, yeah,” he announces, defiantly. “That’s a stupid question.”

The truth is too embarrassing. He’s sixteen years old and still a virgin. Between quitting school early and working to help out his Ma, he hasn’t made it past kissin’ and feelin’ up Lucy McKenny a few times when he worked at the livery stable for her father. He’s dealt with his needs same as the other fellas at the cabin, quietly and late at night or off to himself.

Les folds his hand and grins. “I got me an idea. Roads are clear. Why don’t we all ride up to the whorehouse in Smethport. I wouldn’t mind gittin’ my itch scratched, ‘specially if that red-haired gal’s still workin’ up there.”

The suggestion’s greeted with whoops and cat calls, and no one hesitates to wind up the faltering card game. The men scramble around, preparing for their night out.

Jayne awkwardly pulls his cousin aside, seeking council. “You wanna tell me how much money I need to take? Ain’t never hired me a whore before.” He’s excited and anxious all at once.

Jared grins at the tall youth, then pokes him in the chest. “All depends on what you wanna do with her. These gals ain’t so pricey. Two credits’ll git ya just about anythin’ you wanna do, ‘lessen you’re wantin’ two of ‘em at once.”

The imagined scene is almost more than Jayne can handle and he quickly shrugs into his coat, concealing the rush of blood that instantly makes him hard.

***

The settlement of Smethport clings to the side of a ridge next to a rich coal seam, and has grown up around the mine. There are the usual abundance of saloons and bars, a few mercantile businesses and the obligatory whorehouse. Although a few families live around the squalid little town, the majority of the inhabitants are the men who work as miners and the usual collection of camp followers and laundresses. The girls working at The Paradise are a step further up the ladder.

The gang kills the balance of their whisky on the ride up. By the time they tie their horses to the rail in front of the whorehouse, Jayne has a sweet burn going in his belly to match the ache in his balls and is grateful for the liquid courage.

Following Jared, the gang pushes through the entry hall and into what passes for a parlor. Taking his cues from his buddies, Jayne removes his hat and coat and hangs them on a rack near the entrance, feeling more than a little exposed.

After the darkness outside, the numerous oil lamps overhead make the room almost painfully bright, and he stands blinking and studying the novel setting. There’s a small bar to one side, and eight or ten working girls lounging around the room in various states of undress. He’d never seen grown women in their unders before, other than in his Ma’s mail-order catalogs, and as much as he wants to stare, he knows he shouldn’t. He’s having enough trouble with his eager body as it is, so he glances at them sidelong.

A heavy older woman greets them and offers them drinks. “Just take yer time an’ talk to the girls, git to know ‘em. They can all tell you the rates. You don’t see somethin’ pleases you or you want somethin’ ‘different’, let me know. Ya pay the girl up front, and no roughin’ ‘em up. Clear?”

Les smiles widely and quickly makes his way over to a freckled, auburn-haired gal who greets him fondly, and they promptly leave the room together. Jayne sticks close to Jared, feeling incredibly excited and awkward all at once. Looking at the women’s bodies is just too much, so he tries to concentrate on their faces. Some are pretty enough, others look tired and bored or just plain worn out.

Jayne turns to ask Jared a question and finds himself on his own.

“Lost yer buddy, cowboy?” The voice is warm and low, with a lazy drawl.

“Huh?” Jayne jumps.

Beside him there’s a petite, shapely blond in her mid-twenties with a suggestive grin and twinkling blue eyes. The silky, deep blue robe she’s wearing cups her high bosom and slim waist, falling softly over sweet hips. She tilts her head back and looks up at him, her thick, golden hair settling over her shoulders. He’s young, but clean and good looking, so she grins at him in a way that makes him ache, equal parts invitation and frank admiration.

“I noticed you lookin’ ‘round for yer friend. He went upstairs with Melinda.” She steps a little closer and places her hand on his chest, her palm warm through the fabric of his shirt. He can smell her, smoky and exotic and very, very female.

“My name’s Cassie.”

A wry smile slowly spreads across his handsome young face. Cassie smiles back and laces her arm through his, tugging her willing captive toward the stairs. “I have a feelin’ we’re both gonna enjoy one another.”

***

The room she leads him to is barely large enough for a bed and washstand. Stepping around the door to close it is a challenge, putting them even closer together. Jayne awkwardly pulls off his boots and figures he’d best just keep on bluffing.

“What do I owe ya?” he asks, hesitantly.

“Two credits fer the regular, two-fifty fer the fancy stuff.”

He pulls the bills from his pocket and lays them on the washstand. “Guess I’ll just have the regular, then. You know, like usual.”

Cassie traces a fingertip down his cheek as he settles his hands on her hips, then smiles up at him, bemused. “Ain’t really done this much, have ya?”

He looks at her sheepishly. Damn. She wasn’t supposed to know that. Did someone write ‘Virgin’ on me or somethin’?

“To tell the truth, no, I ain’t.” Even with all his clothes on, he feels stark naked. His cock strains at the front of his trousers.

“Don’t matter none. Everybody has a first time. You’ll do fine.” She runs her hand down to his shirtfront and begins to undo the buttons.

“Got a name, tall an’ handsome?”

Desire makes him bold. He unties her sash and opens her gown. For a minute he just stares and smiles and she smiles back.

“Name’s Jayne Cobb, with a “y”. Named for m’ grandsire. They say I take after him some,” he offers somewhat defensively.

She slips his shirt off and lays it across the foot of the bed, then gently feathers her fingers up through the soft brown hair that lightly furs his young chest, skimming over small, hard nipples. He can’t help the gasp that escapes him as he shudders under her touch. Kneeling to unfasten his belt and trousers, she frees his rigid sex with warm hands. "Well, that grandpa of yours musta been quite a man," she tells him, grinning widely. "Lord knows, you surely are."

Jayne smiles.

***

The next year is a time of much change. Following his final confrontation with his son, Jedd’s drinking intensifies. He comes home less and less often, finally disappearing altogether after the shift foreman at the ironworks lets him go. Annalee is able to care for Liza, Rachel and Mattie with assistance from her church and the money Jayne gave her.

In the time between jobs, the gang members hunt and fish and ramble the countryside. They take up stealing and selling livestock and holding up travelers or breaking into cabins and ranch houses when cash runs short or boredom overcomes them. Their thievery has taken them north and south along the escarpment and word gets around that Jared Corrigan and his buddies are up to no good.

Annalee is increasingly concerned about the life her seventeen-year-old is living, and during his next visit home, she gives him an ear full. “It’s time you come back home, Jayne. Don’t think I ain’t heard the rumors about the kind of stuff your cousin and his buddies are up to, and I know you got to be messed up in it somehow. I don’t know what’s gotten into Jared. He used to be a good boy.”

She shakes her head in bewilderment, then takes Jayne’s hand and speaks sternly to her eldest son. “Them fellas yer runnin’ with are bad news, Jayne, an’ you know it! Now yer Pa’s taken off, you can come home, finally get some decent work, come back to the church, git yer life straightened out.” She pleads, “Whatever you done, son, just repent, and the Lord’ll wash yer sins away…”

Her sermons and piety have grown more and more tiresome and Jayne has no intentions of moving home, however much he loves his family.

“Enough, Ma!” he snaps at her. “Just lay off on the Bible thumpin’. I ain’t gonna move back home. I’m a man now, got my own life. Don’t need to be livin’ with my mother.” He pushed his chair back from the table and jerks his coat on. Annalee is stunned by his outburst.

“I gotta go.”

“You keep on like this, Jayne Cobb, and you’ll end up in prison! “ his mother warns through tears as he stalks out.

From then on, he only comes late at night, tapping on the window to awaken Mattie and handing him envelopes of money for Annalee.

***

For another year and a half, Jayne lives and rides with the Corrigan gang. He learns that whisky silences his conscience when it nags him and stifles the pain in his gut that comes with memories of his childhood and family.

He learns to maintain the pistol Jared gave him and the thirty-aught-six rifle he takes from above a cabin door over in Rankin. He learns that his keen eye and steady hand make him a dead shot and he becomes the gang’s chief source of fresh meat.

He learns that his size and presence make him intimidating to men twice his age and extremely attractive to women. The former is useful, the latter most satisfying. Time and again he returns to The Paradise up in Smethport, and hones his skill as a lover with the help of Cassie or Jenny or Maisie or Belle, all of whom are delighted to accommodate the tall, well-endowed young man with the steel-blue eyes.

***

As the gang moves from occasional stick-ups and break-ins to more serious crimes, they begin to attract the notice of area lawmen. After the sheriff of Brewster Township peppers the region with a flurry of “Wanted” posters, Jared decides they’d best lay low, so the foursome hole up at the cabin, living off dried deer meat and the occasional rabbits Jayne shoots when their reserves began to run low.

The seasons change and Sunderland’s ice and snow again shift to rain and fog. With the boys out of action, things grow pretty quiet in the area, and folks begin to relax a little.

Late in June, after several months of inactivity, Jared sends Les out to do some reconnaissance on a job he’s considering down in Hamilton, a medium-sized town located half a day’s ride south of Ironton, along the eastern front of the mountains. The following afternoon, Les canters back up the trail to the cabin, a wide grin on his angular face.

That night, over the remains of a rabbit stew, Jared discusses plans for the biggest job the gang had yet tackled, the robbery of the Merchants’ Bank and Trust of Hamilton.

He grins and rests his hands on the table. “Show us the map you drawed up, Les.” The four bend over the square of paper Les unfolds, a detailed drawing showing the layout of the buildings surrounding the bank, its interior, and the best approach and escape routes. “Here’s how it lies, boys.” Jared traces the drawing with his index finger. “Merchants’ Bank serves as a primary financial center for most of the mines along the front. On the last Wednesday of every month, upwards of 35,000 platinum gets transferred to the bank in preparation for fulfilling the mine payrolls. The loot’s stored in the bank’s vault, but there’s only a single overnight guard on site. The bank manager’s the only one with the combination to the vault and he comes in at 7:30, then the day guard opens the bank at 8:30. That gives us an hour with just the two men to deal with.”

Jared looks at each man around the old plank table. “We’ll take the manager right as he’s opening up and use him as a hostage to git the drop on that guard. With a gun at his head, I think we can convince him to open the vault. Les, I want you as our lookout. Amos, you’re responsible for coverin’ the night guard.” He points at Jayne. “You’re backup, so keep yer eye on that guard, Cobb, an’ shoot ‘im if he goes for his gun.”

***

As they have planned, Jared steps from the shadows to encircle the bank manager’s neck with his arm and places the cold steel of his pistol barrel against the frightened man’s temple. “Make a sound and you’re a dead man,” he whispers through the bandanna that masks his face. “Do you understand me?”

The man nods tremulously. “Then unlock the door and we’ll all move inside.”

With shaking hands, the manager does as ordered, and Jayne and Amos sweep past with weapons drawn. Jayne takes up a position near the door, one ear alert for Les’s warning whistle, and his revolver aimed at the guard’s head. Faced with two masked men holding pistols on him, the guard throws up his hands, totally unprepared. “You pat that guard down and watch him, now,” Jared reminds Amos.

“I’ll kill your boss if you so much as sneeze, hear me?” Jared tells the ashen guard as he crab-walks the manager past him toward the vault. ”Open it!” He jams the gun barrel harder against the man’s head.

“Please don’t hurt us,” the manager pleads, fumbling at the combination. The tumblers in the massive lock shift and he spins the opening handle with shaking hands, pulling the mammoth steel door open to reveal the booty.

Jayne’s heart’s pounding so hard it feels like his chest might explode. Just a few minutes more and they’ll be headed out of town, rich men. Just a few minutes more… just a few…

He isn’t sure what happened. It all occurred so quickly. Perhaps Amos looked away, distracted by the opening of the safe. But whatever the distraction, the next thing Jayne knows, the bank guard has snatched the pistol from Amos and fires it wildly at Jared.

It was purely by reflex that Jayne pulls the trigger, but his bullet strikes the guard squarely in the chest and slams him hard against the wall. The guard’s eyes are wide and startled as his body slides to the floor. Jayne feels cold and sick inside as he blurts out, “Now what the hell do we do?”

“Sumbitch!” Jared flips his revolver, quickly slamming the butt into the manager’s head and knocking him unconscious. He steps over the man and grabs one of the heavy canvas money bags from the vault floor, yelling, “Head for your horses, boys. We’re fucked!”

***

Mattie is awakened by a sharp double rap on the window beside his bed, Jayne’s usual signal. The thirteen-year-old coughs briefly, then quickly pulls on his clothes and shoes and grabs his jacket. He quietly opens the window and lowers himself over the frame and out of the house into the chill that passes for summer in Ironton.

With a forefinger to his lips, his big brother cautions him not to speak and then gestures for him to follow. Jayne has a bulky canvas bag with him and Mattie can see the glint of the pistol Jayne had begun wearing on his hip. Together, they walk a few hundred yards to the corner.

“How ya doin’, squirt?” Jayne smiles and punches his brother softly in the bicep.

“Ain’t no squirt, an’ I’m well enough.”

“How’s Ma an’ the girls?”

“Everybody’s fine, Jayne, which you’d know for your own self if you ever came around anytime other than the middle of the night.” Mattie studies his beloved older brother and wonders about the bag at Jayne’s feet. The two youths, one nearly a man, stand facing one another in the quiet of the late night. Although thirteen, Mattie is still small for his age and skinny as a rail, while Jayne towers over him, already bigger than many men.

Jayne looks up the street toward the small frame house that had once been his home, his mouth tightening with the pain of what he must say. “I’m leavin’ Sunderland, Mattie. Signed on to a ship headin’ out for Regina. Come to tell ya goodbye.”

“But why? How come you’re leavin’, Jayne?”

Jayne sighs. This is hard. “’Cause I got to. There’s reasons and you don’t need to know about ‘em. Ain’t got long.”

He puts his hand on Mattie’s shoulder. “Guess this makes you the man a the family now, huh?”

“But Jayne…” Mattie’s voice breaks.

Reaching inside his coat, Jayne takes out a thick envelope. “Look, Matt – would ya do me a favor an’ give this ta Ma? Tell her I love her and I’ll send more whenever I can.”

“You ain’t gonna tell her yer leavin’, yerself? Say goodbye or nothin’?”

Jayne shakes his head, scuffing at the mud with his boot toe.

“Nah. She’ll just try to tell me why I oughtta stay and then we’ll get into why I can’t and then she’ll start religifyin’ and… well, it’s just better this way. Give the girls a hug from me, okay?”

Mattie stands in mute agony, the packet in one hand. His deep-set eyes glisten as he struggles to hold back his tears. “Will I ever see you again, Jayne?” he finally squeezes out.

“I sure as hell hope so.”

The brothers grab each other in a brief, fierce hug, then Jayne picks up his bag and starts down the hill. Mattie, silently weeping, watches until the tall young man turns the corner and is finally lost from view.

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Chapter five of thirteen

COMMENTS

Sunday, January 14, 2007 2:07 PM

QWERTY


Well, I was waiting to see if anyone else would comment first, you know, to keep me from looking "stalker-ish". ;o)

But since that hasn't happened, I'll just give this my usual two thumbs up. I really like where you're going with this, and I look forward to the next chapter.

Sunday, January 14, 2007 3:18 PM

HISGOODGIRL


Querty, I very much appreciate your comments and encourage you not to worry about seeming "stalker-ish". It means a lot that somebody liked the piece and cared enough to say so.

Monday, January 15, 2007 6:56 PM

BLUEEYEDBRIGADIER


And I'm chopped liver all of a sudden?

;)

This is some brilliant writing you've done here, HGG! Definitely loved how you explored Jayne's first visit to a whorehouse and the beginnings of his hidden conflict over going against all that his mother taught him in order to profit. Definitely can't wait to see how things go when the crew gets to Sunderland;)

BEB


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