Title: HOME ON THE RANGE

Author: A. Kite (AKite68163@aol.com)

Series: Star Trek Voyager

Part: 1/1

Codes: Paris/Kim

Rating: PG

Summary: My answer to the Ethnic Challenge on Pkelite. Tom and Harry, in fact the whole Voyager crew, just about, is good ole Texas boys or gals, as the case may be.

Disclaimer: They ain't mine, dang it. Paramount owns the whole shebang. No money being made, no copyright infringement intended.

Archiving: Permission given to PKelite, ASC/EM, Slashville and to my own webpage: http://www.oocities.org/tlin_s/a_kite/ Anyone else, please ask first.

Feedback is welcome and always answered, but no flames please.

A. Kite (April 2000)

Texas Tom Paris and his sidekick, Houston Harry Kim sauntered up to Cookie Neelix's improvised chuck wagon to see what there was to eat. Riding the Delta Quadrant range was hard work. Lots of ornery critters to be on the look out for. Just when they moved out of the territory of them marauding Kazon and organ rustling Viidians, they had to run smack dab into the scariest of them all, Borg. No Siree Bob, the DQ was no place for tender foots. Cowboys worked up a powerful appetite on drives like this.

Houston Harry pushed back his black Stetson, completely startled, when he reached the head of the line. No steaks, no beans, no chili neither, just leola root.

Texas Tom took one look at the fare and hollered out, "Get a rope!"

A lynch mob quickly formed. That Neelix was a wiley feller, though. He run and ducked and like to have got clean away, but soon enough Tom had him hog tied and the noose around his

neck. They was just fixing to hoist the pesky, no good cook up when, "BLAM, BLAM, BLAM!"

It was Federation Marshall Calamity Janeway firing Old Betsy off at the ceiling. With Janeway were her trusty deputy, Tuvok and her right hand man, The Renegade Chakotay. "Stop this nonsense right now!" the Marshall yelled. Everybody listened too. You didn't show no disrespect to a lady toting a 12 gauge shotgun. Iffen anyone thought having a female trail boss was going to be an easy ride, they knew better by now.

What had started out a few week's posse ride to catch the Renegade Chakotay and his gang had ended up, so far, as a four year drive to get back home to Texas. Midst all of that, Chakotay and his gang had joined on, if that didn't beat all.

Deputy Tuvok spoke up then, "This is highly illogical. If you hang Neelix who's going to be our cook?"

"But ma'am he was trying to feed us that Yankee food again," Harry tried to explain as they untied Neelix and took the noose out from around his neck.

"I done told you, I AIN'T no Yankee! I'm a Talaxian!"

"Same difference if you ask me," Tom mumbled.

"What was that Mr. Paris? Did I hear you say you wanted to muck out the Jefferies tubes?" Janeway asked as her flinty gray eyes flashed at the young cowboy.

Texas Tom backed away apologizing the whole time, "No, ma'am, I didn't say nothing. Sorry ma'am."

Later that night in Tom's Diamond Lil's Saloon holoprogram, he and Harry were trying to relax. Tom was leaning against the bar, slipping a long, tall cold one and watching pardner take on all comers at arm wrastling. He was beginnin to wonder if he had been out on the range for too long, Harry was looking better and better to him.

The saloon doors swung open and in walked Janeway's newest hand. Sevuhn Bar Nine had on the tightest pair of jeans Tom had ever seen on a body, and the scroll work on her shirt made her...well, they looked bigger'n Dallas anyways. She looked his way, and Tom dropped his beer. The mug smashed on the barroom floor. "Sheeeeit!" Tom did a little dance to shake the cold beer off his tooled leather boots.

Everybody laughed, and when Tom looked up from the mess he had made he saw Harry moving in on Sevuhn. "Howdy there little lady. Ain't seen you in here before," he was saying as he tipped his hat to her. "Kin I buy you a drink?"

Sevuhn pushed back her white ten-gallon hat and nodded. She took the arm that Harry offered, and he escorted her to a table.

For some reason seeing Harry puttin' on the dog like that to her made Tom madder'n a old wet hen. Yup, he was jealous all right. What could he do except go over and pull his pardner out of the clutches of that she-devil? "Don't touch my man!" he hollered.

"Whut? Tom, whut are you going on about?" Houston Harry asked.

"I'll tell you what I'm going on about. From here on in you're going to be sharing my bedroll."

Harry thought about it for a New York minute before smiling and letting Tom pull him out of the saloon. Them two were happier'n hogs in slop 'ever after.

The End