Story Notes:

Author's Chapter Notes:

Disclaimer: All Voyager characters are the property of Paramount, thus no copyright infringement is intended. 

Author's Note: This is an Über fic, which means the story has taken the characters of Voyager out of their normal, in this case Trek, setting and placed them in another time and place.

Set in the 1870's of the American frontier, what some folks call the Wild West. My knowledge of frontier life, articles of clothing, language and slang of the period is limited. I've endeavored to research these areas; however, I am certain that I've not even scratched the surface. In some instances I simply let my imagination run wild.

Lastly, this time in history was rife with racial prejudices and stigmas. To allow each of our characters the opportunity to contribute to the tale, you may notice some inconsistencies with what would've been deemed “acceptable” for this time period.

With all of the aforementioned in mind, I ask for lenience in advance under what is known as poetic license.

Many thanks to Elem for the fabulous Beta and Vanhunks for the read through and kickstarting the muse

 

 

 

 

THE REDHEAD, THE RENEGADE &  EVIDENCE OF DECEPTION

 

The advertisement read, "Help Wanted: Attractive, cultured woman for hostess position of upscale frontier hotel."

What absolute bosh!! Kathryn thought, as she eyed her would be hostess ensemble with ill disguised contempt.

“Mr. Randolph, you can't possibly expect me to wear that!” Defiance flashed in her blue grey eyes as she addressed the man across the room.

Marc Randolph, a man of indeterminate age, eyed the attractive beauty in front him lasciviously. “You came to me, Missus. If you're wantin' the position, that's what you'll be wearin',” the dark haired man decreed.

Kathryn attempted a more civil approach, as she lowered her voice and softened her stance “Mr. Randolph, I appreciate your generosity but it's unwarranted. When I accepted the position, I told you that I was not in need of additional attire,” she explained with a mid-western twang.

“Look, Kit, --”

“Do. Not. Call me that,” Kathryn hissed.

Marc was taken aback by the venomous manner in which the woman spoke. Damn, she's gonna be trouble, he thought to himself. He knew when he received her reply, that Miss Kathryn Janeway wasn't your every day piece of calico. No matter, she wasn't the first lady from back east he'd gotten here under false pretenses, and she wouldn't be the last.

“Them fancy dresses just ain't goin' cut it. My saloon patron's come here 'spectin' the best these parts have to offer. Them thar dresses ain't goin' give 'em that,” Marc stepped closer toward her as he ran a rough hand down the back of her arm, “Now, if you're needin' some assistance, Missus, I'm more than willin' to oblige,” he husked, as he inhaled the rose scent of her auburn locks.

Although Marc Randolph stood a good ten inches taller, Kathryn didn't stiffen her body or jerk away from her new boss in fear.

Slowly she lifted her left palm, as if to caress the calloused hand on her forearm, “While that is extremely... kind of you. I don't require your assistance at this time,” she answered coolly, before she seized the man's hand in an agonizing reverse grip that, in seconds, had him kneeling at her skirted feet.

Kathryn sneered in his pain-contorted face, “We already spoke about this aspect of the position. I told you, that while my conversation and dancing skills are for sale; that's it. Nothing else is. This was our agreement, was it not?” She asked, as she heard the small bones in the man's hand creak under the pressure she effortlessly exerted.

“The advertisement requested a hostess not a whore,” Marc squeaked in anguish.

“See that you remember that, Mr. Randolph,” Kathryn warned as she released her hold and stepped away from the man.

Marc eyed the petite woman wondering where she’d learned such a trick. Damn, she's gonna be trouble, all right.

“Right. I want to see you in that,” Marc indicated his chosen ensemble for the woman with a nod of his head, “in three hours time. If you need anything, talk to Rio. Don't be late or it's comin' out of your pay,” he grumbled, as he massaged his aching palm, before he exited the small room.

Kathryn sighed to herself as Mr. Randolph closed the door to her room. Dejectedly, she collapsed on the lumpy bed as she recalled her journey to the Western Frontier.

Nothing, not even her previous overseas travels, could have prepared her for the rude awakening of traveling westward. In all, the trip had taken a month to complete – a week by rail, two weeks by riverboat, and another week by stagecoach.

Kathryn smiled slightly, as she remembered her weeks aboard the Delta Queen. She'd made a name for herself playing poker during those weeks aboard the steamboat. It had been her hope to resume the role she'd established for herself once she arrived in New Mexico.

However, it appeared that first she'd have to prove to Mr. Randolph that such a position would be beneficial to his establishment. Never before had she been more grateful for the unconventional lessons her father insisted she learn in her younger years.




After completing her education at an Episcopalian convent with her younger sister, Kathryn accompanied her father on his many business trips to Detroit, New Orleans, and sometimes even Europe.

When racing his horses in New Orleans, Kathryn’s father also indulged in another favorite pastime, one in which he excelled - gambling.

He taught his daughter all the tricks he knew about card playing, in the belief that there was more to survival than simply being a proper lady. She was well versed in the social graces at the convent, and since he had no sons to carry on after him, he expected his eldest daughter to be strong, independent and able to care financially for her younger sister when the time came.

He showed her how to gamble on land and on riverboats, and he passed on to her his passionate skill of the game.

Not only did Edward deem it necessary for Kathryn to know how to gamble, but he also demanded she know her way around a pistol, shot gun, rifle or any other firearm she may encounter. When the pair would return from their travels he schooled his eldest daughter in marksmanship. Kathryn previously acquired the skill of horseback riding sidesaddle and her father further instructed her to ride astride in a gentleman’s saddle.

This was another of his passions he passed on to his daughter, the love of horseback riding. Kathryn was known to outfit herself on many an occasion in men’s britches to ride. She also knew how to ride bareback.

Edward taught his eldest daughter one additional skill: the art of knife throwing.

As a result of his tutelage Kathryn was able to hold her own in adulthood, whether she was having afternoon tea at the Woman’s Guild or challenging the local young men to quick-draw contests.

Surprisingly her proficiency at playing pool and billiards were honed by her mother, Gretchen.

During her trip Southwest, Kathryn fell back on her father’s teachings. She established a name for herself on the riverboats as “The Queen of Hearts” in response to her grand looks, as well as, her proficiency as a poker player.

As the waterways yielded to dry land, Kathryn marveled at the sheer beauty of the terrain.

She'd expected barren, flat plains of desert to greet her as she traveled southwest. This expectation became a reality for most of her journey; however, as she neared her final destination, nothing could have prepared her for the absolute grandeur of the mountains.

Kathryn recalled being awestruck and completely captivated as the coach journeyed past the natural giants. On the left side of the stagecoach, all she saw was desert for miles but if she looked to the right, she saw the mountains. It was odd, for the first time during her voyage west, Kathryn felt at peace. How could scenery do that? She'd not felt at peace since before... well, it had been three years since she felt anything akin to peace.

Traveling north, Kathryn and the stagecoach left the desert behind to embark upon lush hills and valleys. The terrain was beautifully rich with what looked like perfectly placed evergreen bushes peppered throughout the hillsides. It was surreal the way the sunlight dappled the hills as they dipped and rolled for miles on end. The various hues of browns, oranges, and reds reminded her of fall in Indiana. And at the same time she marveled as a new spectrum of purples and blues began to emerge. In short, she was beside herself with wonderment.

One can only imagine the shock of learning that in the middle of all this beauty, sat a small squalor of a town. A place made up of rowdy cowboys; outlaws who roamed freely without fear of arrest, and saloons with an abundance of soiled doves spilling into the streets.

For a time, Kathryn wondered about the name of the town but now the name seemed apt. She cringed at the thought of living here in Loveless, New Mexico.

Despite its beauty, New Mexico was a far cry from Maryland. This part of the untamed country held more desperate and dangerous men than any other corner of the West.

Kathryn now found herself in a region that was more remote and less known than the continent of Africa. There were no courts this far west, no accurate record of more than a small portion of deeds done in blood. Nowhere in the world was human life held so cheaply, and never was there a population more lawless.

And sadly, this was where Kathryn found herself calling home for the foreseeable future.


Chapter End Notes:

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