Jayne had slept in till well into the noon.

After waking up, he had gone and taken a bath, then gotten a decent hair cut, shave and some fresh clothes. Mal had told him to spend just the basics, but then Mal didn't know that Jayne for some time had been winning and keeping money of his own. So the merc bought himself a rather nice new shirt and pants, and when he went to eat he ordered enough for two men, plus added a cigar and a shot of whiskey to the meal.

After stuffing himself with breakfast and lunch all in one sitting, the freshly bathed Jayne headed out to a small store he had heard word of mouth of. With the furs bundled on his shoulder, he crossed the street of the small town and entered the shop. Like half of the shops in Tehatchepi it was a leather goods shop; filled with chaps, coats, gloves, leads, hats and anything else that could be fashioned out of hide or fur. With large strides, Jayne went over to the counter and set his goods down with an itched growl. He was sore from lack of companionship, which was why he was up so early. If there had been a woman the merc turned cowboy probably wouldn't have left his tiny hotel room until the sun went down. Nonetheless, since he wasn't preoccupied, he decided to run the errands then spend the rest of his time at the saloon. Taking his hat off, then his orange knit piece and stuffing it in his back pocket, crude blue eyes scanned the business as the sound of footsteps came from the back.

"Good day." The shop keep greeted.

"Howdy." Jayne's deep voice replied, cigar clenched between his teeth. "Got some furs, wish ta trade."

"Well now, always like the site of trade. Name's Joseph Fezznik." Wiping his hands on his apron he thrust one in front of the huge man's chest.

Jayne stared down at the man. Forest folk were a peculiar genetic lot. The original mountain settlers had spent so many decades up in the highlands, they were now built for the terrain. They were a small subculture, their frames short and slight. Lean in the muscle, but it mad