With this story, one of the main delays is that I haven't been sure just how to handle the crossover of the characters from one world to the other.  Here's one way-- a way that hasn't been tried (to my knowledge, from what I've read) before.

Disclaimer: Characters and associated details are property of HB and are used for non-profit, entertainment purposes only.

Archiving permission granted.

THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Synopsis:  Jessie gets a little closer to Jane.

"BLOOD MONEY" - Chapter 2

by Eric R. Umali

"Through the Looking Glass"

The two teenagers stared at the computer screen for a few moments, silent.

"Well," whispered Jonny, "say something."

"It's-- it's me," Jessie stammered.

Jonny sat back.  "The resemblance is... uncanny."

The redhead turned to him.  "'Uncanny'?  You've been hanging out with your dad a lot more lately, haven't you?"

"That's not the point, Jess.  Look at her-- do you think you're related?"

"I suppose it could be possible," she replied.  "I'll start checking my family tree."  Jessie's fingers began tapping away at the keyboard.

Jonny gently grasped her wrist.  "Go to bed, Jessie.  Who knows what Grandpa Doug's got waiting for us tomorrow-- history will still be there in the morning."

She opened her mouth to argue, but all that escaped was a long yawn, which set off a like response from Jonny.  She smiled.  "Okay, you win."

They said goodnight, and retired. Jessie sat on the bed, the image of Calamity Jane still before her eyes.  She crawled under the covers and settled into the pillow.  In seconds, she was asleep.

**********

She felt much better when she awoke than she thought she would.  Rubbing her eyes, she pushed away the covers and swung her legs onto the floor.  A sudden shock ran through her as her feet hit cold, hard wood.

*Wood?* she thought.  *The bedroom has carpeting.*   Her long hair still hung before her eyes, so she pulled it back, then stared in shock.  She had woken up in a strange wood-walled room, in an canopied bed. There was a small dresser at the foot of the bed, atop which sat a wide-brimmed hat with a red and yellow band.  Beside the bed, on a rack, hung a dusty set of riding clothes.

She ran to the dresser and stared into the mirror.  Her skin seemed a little paler, and her fire-red hair hung nearly to her waist.  Her hand trembling, she pulled it away from the left side of her face.  A few beads and a white feather had been tied into the tresses near the nape of her neck.

Jessie Bannon looked into the mirror.  Calamity Jane stared back.

"Janey?  Janey, you awake yet, girl?" called someone from outside. The voice was gruff and weathered, but there was something warmly familiar about it.  She recognized the voice immediately-- she wasn't sure how, but she knew it was her grizzled old companion, Joe Presto.

"I'm up, Joe," she called back.  "Be out in a couple of minutes."  Jessie was surprised the slight twang of an accent coloring her voice.

Jessie moved to the dresser and rack and began laying out Jane's clothes, as she remembered it from the picture.  She put on the front-laced shirt and the dark riding breeches, then pulled on the tall leather boots with their red-yellow Comanche trimmings.  Hesitatingly, she lifted the heavy gunbelt with pistol in place and hooked securely, then buckled it on.  She shrugged the fringed jacket on, then stood before the mirror.  Jessie lifted the wide-brimmed hat and settled it on her head, pulling it low, just above her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she strode out of the room.  The scene in the saloon below was, surprisingly enough, straight out of a classic western.  A player piano tinkled off-key in the corner, while sleepy-eyed cowpokes mixed with hunched-over townies over shot glasses of whiskey.

One figure turned as Jessie's spurs jingled down the stairs.  She found herself staring into the weather-beaten face of the man reported to be Calamity Jane's closest friend, Joe Presto.  Stringy gray hair poked out from underneath his battered bowler and blended into a rough gray-white beard.  His skin was darkened by the sun, but his eyes, dark and vaguely almond-shaped, still held much intelligence.

"Finally!" Joe cried.  "I thought you'd be in there all day, girl."  Jessie was stopped by the shading of his voice.  Former terror of the badlands, Joe Presto, sounded like he'd spent most of his life in India.

*Hadji!* she thought.  *It must be a dream-- I've turned Hadji into Joe Presto!*

"You just hold your horses, Joe," she replied.  A few seconds later, she stood before him, though standing a good foot taller.  "So what's got a fire lit under you this time?"

"Word around here has it that Doolin's gone and busted loose from them Marshals that were escortin' him to the circuit judge in Albuquerque."

She couldn't believe Hadji's-- _Joe's_, she reminded herself--  story.  "Please, Joe, tell me you're joking."

"I wouldn't joke like that, Janey.  I'm sorry, but I think it's true."

Jessie hung her head.  "Does anyone know where he's headed?"

"Word is," drawled the mustached bartender, "Doolin's got hisself a hideout somewhere near the Old Mexico border."

"Is that so?" she replied warily.  "You got any idea where it might be?"

The bartender smiled.  "Not me, Miss Calamity-- I can give you plenty of common knowledge, but anything more might be detrimental to my health."

"Afraid of lead poisoning, eh?"

He nodded.  "Something like that."  The bartender sidled off into the back room.

Joe chuckled.  "That's about all the help we'll be getting outta these folks, Janey."

She shook her head.  Was she _ever_ going to put Doolin away for good?  Or would she finally have to finish him off-- something she'd been dreading since first running across the bandit.  Jessie grabbed Joe's shot and knocked the whiskey back, letting the fire water burn its way down her throat.

"Then we're just going to have to do it on our own."

Suddenly, there was a crash from the back room, and the sound of fisticuffs.  Feet pounded on the floor, and bottles smashed as the bartender went sailing over the bar.

"That'll teach you not to lie to a lady," said a voice from inside.  Out of the doorway stepped a tall, slim cowboy.  He was dressed in clean, well-kept trousers, shirt and jacket.  A silk vest decorated with a gold watch chain finished the natty image.  Long dark blond hair touched his collar, and matched his thick goatee.  His wide black hat rested just above a pair of narrowed, but sparkling blue eyes.

Jessie gasped.  She looked into the face of her best friend, Jonny Quest, but several years and too many adventures in the future.

"J-- J--"

Jonny frowned.  "Jimmy-- you call me 'Jimmy,' remember?  You'd better, Janey, you're one of the only people I let call me that."

Jessie was confused.  "Jimmy?  Jimmy Hickock, of course.  Sorry, Jimmy, I didn't get much sleep last night."

He shook his head.  "Joe, you're supposed to be taking care of her, remember?"

"Joe's doing just fine," Jane said. "What was that about lying to a lady?"

"I overheard your conversation, Janey, so I decided to see just what that fellow knows."  He tilted his chin towards the still-prone bartender. "Turns out he got more from Bill Doolin than a threat."  Hickock opened his gloved fist and dropped a crumpled pile of bills on the bar.  "For your favorite charity," he offered.

"Much obliged," Jane returned with a sly smile, then stuffed the cash into a pocket.

"My pleasure," said Hickock, a matching smile touching his face.  "If you lit out of here for Old Mexico, Doolin would've ridden right over you."

"Again, Jimmy, much obliged."

"Again, Janey, it was my pleasure."  Hickock softly patted her hand.  "Well, I guess my work is done for now.  I'll be on my way."

Jane put her hand over his.  "Not yet Jimmy.  Do _you_ know where Doolin's hiding out?"

He sighed.  "Don't go after him, Janey-- at least not yet."  His voice softened.  "Janey, Doolin's got himself plenty of help, and he's gunning for you.  You head after him now, and. . . you may not come back."

"Why, Jimmy," she teased, "I didn't know you cared."

Hickock wasn't joking.  "You know better than that, Jane."

"And you know better than to warn me away from what I need to do.  I've _got_ to go after him."

"Then be careful, all right?"

Jane's mouth curved just a bit.  "Then lend me a hand."

"Janey," Hickock grumbled, "you know darn well I've never been able to say 'no' to you."

"Are you off your rocker, Janey?" Joe broke in.  Jane had been wondering how long it would take.  "I don't know _why_ you trust this rapscallion the way you do, but I don't."

"As I recall," Hickock drawled, "Joe Presto was something of a rapscallion in his own time."

"Yeah, well," Joe grumbled, "I've reformed."

"Well I haven't--"

"Yet," interrrupted Jane.

"I haven't reformed, but this isn't about me-- it's about not letting Janey here get herself killed.  No offense."

"None taken," she replied.  "Then it's settled.  Let's get moving."

As she turned, two tall, heavy-built men burst through the swinging doors, guns raised.  Jane took a single long stride and kicked over the closest table.  Both she and Joe dove behind it as Hickock rolled over the bar, bottle shattering under the gunfire.  Bullets chipped away at the table while everyone else ran for cover.  Jane returned fire, her view blocked by the cloud of smoke in front of the wildly firing assassins.

Jane looked down a moment to reload.  She heard a shout from Joe, and turned, only to come face to face with the business end of a double-barreled shotgun.

There was a sharp noise.

**********

With a high-pitched shout, Jessie sat bolt upright in bed, her red hair plastered to her forehead with cold perspiration.  She panted as she ran her hands over herself, looking for the shotgun wound.  When she didn't, she sank back against the pillow.

Suddenly, the door flew open with a dull thud.  Jonny came rushing in, wearing only a t-shirt and boxers.  "Jessie?!  Are you all right?  I heard a scream."  He rushed to the bed.

"I'm fine, Jonny, I'm fine," she said firmly.  "It was just a nightmare, that's all."

"Sounds like it was _some_ nightmare, Jess.  You want to tell me?"  Gently, he took her hand.

Jessie patted his hand.  "In the morning.  I've got to get some sleep.  But thanks.  As Grandpa Doug would say, much obliged."

Jonny rose and tipped an imaginary hat.  "My pleasure, ma'am."  He turned towards the door and found Grandpa Doug and Hadji there, concerned.  "She'll be fine, guys.  Let's get back to sleep."

The others nodded.  Jonny pulled the door closed, but there was no click of the bolt, which had been torn out of the frame.

As Jessie drifted off again, she could hear Doug speak.

"You're payin' for that door, you know that."

TO BE CONTINUED...