After several days of inner debate and mental turmoil, Kurt was still no closer to be able to pay the rent. Quinn had gotten him some work, but not nearly enough to come close to what he needed. He had been snapping irrationally at Rachel and Santana, taking out his anger about the situation on them. Currently he was serving a "time out" in front of the saloon, after having one such blow up at them for not moving quickly enough.

He had his hands on the hitching post, leaning forward and looking into the water in the horse trough on the ground, examining his reflection. How had he fallen so far he wondered. In school he was top of the class and despite being gay, everyone seemed to assume he would go to the big city and make a name for himself, Kurt included. He had more talent in dance, song, and fashion, then the rest of the town had altogether. Yet here he was, in deep debt and settling on survival as a means to get through his life.

He cursed himself. The teachers hadn't been hard enough on him. He couldn't have been that smart or he would have figured a way out of this situation or at least figured out how to make some more money. Part of the problem, he accepted, that he wasn't morally disinclined. He wouldn't steal or cheat or dabble in anything illegal to earn money, which in Lima was rare.

He sighed and pushed himself back to lean against the wall of the saloon, watching the movement around town. It had gotten much busier in the past few days as competitors and rodeo fans had arrived. People were rushing this way and that, trying to get their business done before the stores closed. Next door Quinn's girls waved and whistled at the men, trying to advertise the business. Every so often they'd bunch together and whisper about one of the new boys in town, stealing secret glances as the target of their gossip.

And some of the competitors did look like boys, that or Kurt was just getting older too quickly for his liking. His younger self would have been furious at him. When he was younger he thought by twenty that he would be rich and famous. His younger self didn't know shit.

A nearby clip-clop of horse hooves turned his head and he looked toward the new arrival. The horse was beautiful, and exotic. It was about fifteen hands high and had the brightest and most intelligent eyes he had seen on an equine before. But what was really striking about this horse was the colouring. He had heard about appaloosas before but had never actually seen one in person as they were known for being favourites of the native americans who had been pushed south of the Ohio river valley before he was even born. The brown and white mottled coat gave it a truly distinct look and he had to stop himself from reaching out to pet the creature to ensure it was real.

"Her name is Ominitago. It means beautiful voice to the Cheyenne people." A voice spoke from atop the mare, and Kurt looked up, wincing as the sun hit his eyes and momentarily blinded him to the owner of the voice.

The rider slid off the side of the horse and pulled the reigns towards the hitching post. Kurt could now see the owner of this beautiful creature. Ominitago. He mouthed the name to himself as he looked over the rider. The man was slightly shorter than he was, with a black slouch hat on a head of dark curls. His eyes were amber, set against olive skin. He wore a long black twill duster over tan cotton trousers and a doubled breasted black vest. Kurt could see he was wearing not one, but two belts, probably indicating that he had a gun on each hip. His boots went up to the knee, but didn't have spurs like most of the ranchers wore around town. He, like his horse, had a very distinct look, and Kurt wondered if his name was equally as pleasurable to say as Ominitago.

"I call her Minnie usually. Gets me in less trouble with savage haters." The rider noted, tying up the horse and looking back to Kurt, who nodded.

"I like the name. Never seen a spotted horse before. She's very beautiful."

The rider smiled and looked Kurt up and down which made Kurt somewhat uncomfortable in his own skin. The rider finished off the tie and asked, "Saloon open yet?"

Kurt nodded and swept a hand to the entrance. "Pretty empty yet. Fills up once the shops close."

Without another word, the rider walked into the saloon and Kurt was left with the horse. He sighed and looked at Ominitago. "I hope you don't feel alone here girl. Most people here don't take kindly to those that are different." He petted the mare on the nose for a few minutes before returning to the saloon.

Once inside, Santana summoned him over to her with a wave of her hand. She pointed to the newcomer who was sitting at the end of the bar with a drink already in hand. "You get to serve him tonight. He was already snarky with me."

Kurt grimaced. If Santana wasn't willing to put up with a snarky customer it either meant they were really aggravating or she was just that irritable. Rachel was probably in the back getting the meals cooked for when the dinner rush began, so that left him. Kurt presumed it was just Santana being irritable though because the newcomer had been polite enough outside. Kurt slid behind the counter and went over to the man, who was nursing the last sip of his drink. "Can I get you a refill sir?"

The man looked up and Kurt was once again eye to eye with him, his breath hitching involuntarily as he noted the specks of gold in the amber eyes that were looking at him. A smirk covered the mans face and he winked at Kurt. "Does it come with a side of you because you look quite tasty."

Kurt found himself taken aback. Aside from the sudden change in attitude from this man, in no less than a week he had two men coming onto him and he didn't know how to handle it. He put on his best disinterested face and replied, "Our supper special is mashed potatoes and brown beans in sauce if you're hungry. Refill?"

The man chuckled to himself, clearly noting Kurt's slight reaction to the pick up line. He raised his glass, "Beer please hot stuff."

Kurt took the glass and walked down the length of the bar to where they kept the keg, looking over at Santana and trying to catch her gaze. When she noticed him he gave her a look that questioned what the man had said to her that was so offensive.

Santana came up beside Kurt as he was pouring and whispered, "Said I had too much breast and not enough cock for his liking. Thought you might enjoy someone of your own kind." She cackled and left Kurt back on his own silently cursing his coworker.

Kurt returned to the man and set the glass in front of him. "Just holler if you need a refill."

"What do I have to do to hear you holler sweetheart?" The man tipped his hat up and once again winked at Kurt who immediately scowled back.

"Look. I'm just trying to work here. I fill your drinks and get you food if you want. If you want woman's comfort go next door to the brothel."

The curly haired stranger reached out to grasp Kurt's wrist as he moved to leave, "Wait!"

Kurt looked down at his entrapped hand and then back to the man, waiting for a response.

"First of all, if I wanted a woman I would have been hitting on tits over there." He said, nodding his head toward Santana. "Secondly, my name is Blaine. You might want to remember it for when you're calling it out in bed."

Kurt's jaw dropped for the umpteenth time in as many days, and as Blaine released his wrist, Kurt found himself quickly walking away and toward Santana.

"What the hell Santana. The guy is a perverted bastard. You deal with him. I can't deal with this!"

Santana looked up and scrunched up her face as Kurt verbally lambasted her. When Kurt had finished his tirade she lifted up a hand, "Look honey. Rachel and I have to deal with it all the time, you deal with it for one evening. Don't get your bloomers in a knot."

Kurt huffed and smacked a hand down on the counter, preparing to keep up the rant, however it was clear from Santana's rigid demeanor that she wasn't going to take it and she did have a point. Rachel and Santana did take a lot of harassment from the saloon guests and managed to survive. Maybe dealing with this guy, Blaine, would help him be able to deal with David.

"Fine." Kurt left Santana who smiled coyly at his back before returning to counting cash. He went to ask for orders from the group that had just arrived when he noted that Blaine had moved from the counter and joined a poker game that also included David. Kurt felt his skin crawl, but he went over to serve the group anyhow. "The usual today?"

Much to Kurt's relief, the group just gave their orders, too immersed in their game to pay him much mind. He was able to fill their drink order and continue about his business in the saloon without much hassle for most of the rest of the evening.

That was until, however, the card game had ended and the alcohol had settled in. The men were getting rowdy and loud and despite Kurt's best efforts at gentle pleading, they weren't quieting down. David yelled that Blaine had cheated and Blaine returned fire saying that David was a pathetic player. Azimio just laughed where he sat, enjoying the drama unfolding before him, and Kyle was moaning loudly and holding his stomach, not really paying much attention at all.

"Gentlemen please... You're disrupting the other patrons here. Why don't you all go home. It's getting late after all."

The men continued, speaking over Kurt and he knew he was being far too quiet and polite to be heard. Kyle made a rush for the door and the sound of vomiting could be heard outside as soon as he got there. This caused Azimio to laugh even louder, falling backward in his chair with a loud thud. The noise got both Blaine and David's attention who promptly forgot their argument to laugh at Azimio.

Kurt groaned and rubbed a hand back over his hair. Between having to clean the vomit off the porch and fixing the chair, it would be an extra late night for him.

"Please." He raised his tone, "You've all drank your share tonight. It's time for you to go home."

Blaine sniggered and turned to face Kurt, "Hey sweetheart, if you're going to ride my ass, at least buy me a drink first."

Azimio and David were starting to laugh when a sharp slap sounded across the room and all eyes turned to Kurt whose hand had just whipped across Blaine's cheek, leaving a red mark. All of the built up tension and stress he had been dealing with had culminated in that moment and Blaine's comment had been the needle that broke the camels back. As Kurt realized what he had done, his own face whitened and his cheeks burned red.

Looking at Blaine, and seeing his own handiwork on his face, Kurt ran into the kitchen and up the stairs to his room without stopping. Blaine rubbed his now tender cheek and looked back to David and Azimio, "Sensitive one ain't he?"

They laughed and the chorus of conversation and chatter in the bar began up again. Kurt didn't return to work that night and Rachel and Santana, who had seen the event, decided to just leave it be for now. They both knew something was up with their mutual friend, who until recently, never allowed the stress to show yet he had become quick to temper and overly dramatic in the past few days.

When the saloon emptied and the girls were mopping the floor and washing off the tables, Kurt appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, watching them quietly for a moment before quietly uttering an apology for abandoning them.

Both of the girls stopped what they were doing and each gave him a hug in turn, noting that his face was tear stained and his eyes bloodshot.

"You know you can tell us anything right Kurt?" Rachel said, rubbing a hand in small circle on his back.

Kurt nodded. He knew that, but just because he could didn't mean he would. Tomorrow was rent day and he didn't have enough. "If I leave to go for a walk and clear my head would you girls be upset? I need some fresh air..."

Both of the girls immediately gave Kurt a little push towards the door indicating their support. Kurt had never taken any time off work before so both weren't worried he was taking advantage of their sympathy.

As soon as Kurt was outside he felt better. The cool air hit him and he breathed it in. Something about nighttime just smelled better, felt better. Maybe it was how much quieter it was and how calm things were, the bordello excluded. He went for a stroll along the empty streets, hands tucked into his pockets.

As he reached the outskirts of the town, he saw the Appaloosa again, tied to a tree with a fire burning nearby. Blaine was sitting in front of the fire, still not asleep and watching the flames flicker in front of him. It was unusual for a competitor to camp and Kurt thought that perhaps Blaine didn't have a lot of money and was maybe in the competition to support himself, or maybe he was just a fan who was willing to camp out to see the competitors in action.

"Come to apologize for the mark you left on me sweet thing?" Blaine piped up and Kurt realized he had been spotted. He automatically hissed his response.

"You should be apologizing to me for being so crude!"

"I wouldn't have to make up names for you, however appropriate they are, if you would just tell me your name."

Kurt huffed, "They are not appropriate. They are crass and vulgar and completely inappropriate. Plus if you said any of that stuff around a sober crowd you'd be strung up."

Kurt saw Blaine shrug his shoulders and then set down the stick. "They could try I suppose. I'm been run out of towns for less, and for more. And you must have something wrong in your head if you think being called sweet and hot are so insulting."

Kurt wasn't about to admit that he had many things wrong in his head as of late, but the simple way Blaine was speaking made Kurt suspect that he was being honest in his assessment of Kurt, at least in what he thought about Kurt. It would have almost been flattering if Kurt wasn't so wracked with nerves. His guard fell a little bit and he took a couple steps closer to the small camp Blaine had set up.

"I'm Kurt."

A chuckle was Blaine's response and the curly haired man lifted a harmonica to his mouth and began playing a tune that Kurt didn't recognize. Kurt found himself drawn to the music and instead of leaving, stayed in place to listen to the entire song, which in his opinion sounded quite melancholy. Once the song was over, Blaine put the harmonica back on his lap and grabbed a stick to stoke the fire.

"Where are you from?" Asked Kurt.

"Where am I from, or who was I born from?" Blaine responded with a question of his own, not turning to look at Kurt as he spoke.

"Either I guess. You've given your horse a native name, your skin is darker than most around here. You're just different."

"My mother was Cheyenne. Grew up mostly with my father in the south east until the colour of my skin and my attraction to boys made me a liability for his venture into politics."

Kurt nodded to himself as he absorbed the information. It made sense. He wasn't quite white, and he wasn't full savage. He could travel both worlds. "And you're here to watch the competitions, or compete?"

"Compete. Was in Westerville when I heard about the competition and was bored so I decided to test my skill against the locals."

Kurt's brow furrowed up in confusion, "That's it? Not for the money or to get first pick at ranch hiring?"

Blaine snickered and shook his head. "I have money. I wander as I please, when I please."

Kurt nodded and watched the man under the moonlight quietly for the moment, wondering what it would be like to live with such freedom.

Blaine looked up then and Kurt could make out the amber eyes from below the brim of his hat, glinting in the firelight. "Well... Kurt. I guess now I know what I'll be crying out when you're making me orgasm then."

Any bit of Kurt that had been warming up to Blaine in the past few moments rapidly left and Kurt once again found himself fuming. If Blaine had been closer, he likely would have slapped him again. Instead Kurt just turned on his heels and stormed off, back towards the saloon, leaving Blaine behind him without another word.

How did that man go from being so interesting one minute to completely disgusting the next. Kurt wasn't inclined to the racism that others in the town held, but he wondered in that instant if there wasn't some truth to the rumours about savages.

When Kurt got back to the saloon, the lanterns at been snuffed and Santana and Rachel had left. They had done a good job cleaning and he couldn't even smell Kyle's vomit from earlier. He quietly went through the kitchen, ignoring his growling stomach, and tiptoed up the stairs to where his room was, alone at the top of the stairs. He pulled his door open, cringing at the creak of the hinges and entered, closing it behind him.

"You shouldn't keep me waiting."

Kurt jumped in place and backed himself against the wall of his room, his eyes adjusting to the dark. As his eyes adjusted, he saw David sitting back on his bed, and Kurt could smell the alcohol on his breath from the few feet away he was.

"David! I.... What are you doing here?"

The bigger man leaned back in Kurt's bed and kept his gaze steadily upon Kurt, who remained up against the wall as if he were about to be attacked.

"You have the rent?"

Kurt began panicking and rushed to his drawer where he stashed his cash, grabbing all the money he had and holding it out to David. "I can get the rest. Just give me more time. Rent isn't usually collected until tomorrow."

David grabbed what Kurt had and slowly began counting, "It IS tomorrow." he spoke as he counted in slow, deliberate motions, "You know, I would hate to have to go to your dads ranch and have to ask for the rest because you can't get your act together."

Kurt's went pale and he looked at David blankly. His dad didn't know the extent of Kurt's debt to the Karofsky's, and his dad certainly wouldn't be able to pull together the money he owed.

"I mean, what kind of son would put their father in that position, especially since he's still in recovery. Wouldn't want to have to put any undue strain on him..."

Kurt realized how futile his situation was in that moment. He slowly walked toward the bed, his movements stiff and mechanical.

"What do you want from me?"

David smirked and unbuttoned his pants, Kurt turning his head away as it happened, mentally chanting that this couldn't be happening and trying to tuck away whatever part of him still had hopes and dreams so it wouldn't see what he was about to do.

"I want you to show me how much you need a bit of rent relief." David said, shimmying down his pants and his briefs along with them, leaving his manhood erect and waiting for attention.

And because Kurt had no other choice, he knelt between David's legs and took his erection in his mouth, pinching his eyes shut and making the motions as quickly as he could to get it over with. He distracted his mind with thoughts of what he needed to tailor tomorrow and what designs he should sketch out for Quinn.

David's hands went to the back of Kurt's head and forced him further and harder, the man moaning noisily above him. Kurt withheld a gag, not wanting to do anything to upset David and make this torture last any longer than it needed to. He hated this. It was disgusting and completely unromantic. How anyone could want this was beyond him, and how anyone could want to do it was unfathomable.

Finally, and thankfully, David came with a low drawn out groan and forced Kurt's head down on his cock as he did. Kurt choked a little and involuntarily tried to pull his head back despite the hands holding him down. When David was spent, he lifted his hands off Kurt's head who immediately pulled back and coughed, trying to regain his lost breath.

David unceremoniously pulled his briefs and pants back up, rebuttoning them and stood up to leave. "Not a word now princess, or it'll be your dad who has to hear about how you pay your rent." A laugh followed and David tossed a few of the coins Kurt had given him down on the floor in front of Kurt. "Almost forgot to pay the whore."

He continued laughing as he left and Kurt could hear his chuckling all the way out of the building. As soon as he couldn't hear him anymore, Kurt grabbed his water basin and began scrubbing his face and teeth with merciless ferocity. He had to get the smell off him, and the taste out of his mouth. He had to make himself clean of this.

He kept scrubbing until his gums bled and his face was red, sobbing into the cloth he was using the whole time. He knew this was just the beginning. David wouldn't just leave him alone now that he willfully gave up his intimacy with a simple threat.

Kurt slowly picked up the coins that had been thrown to him and tucked them into his pillowcase to keep them close. His hands and face felt absolutely dried out from all the water he had used on them and he still didn't feel any cleaner.

Kurt stayed up for what remained of the night, sitting on his bed and watching the sun come up through his window. He remembered watching sunrises with his mother when he was a child, so full of innocence and naivety. Never so much did he long for those days as he did this night.

Finally, at some point during dawn, he realized he couldn't let this act become who he was. He knew he wasn't a whore. He knew he wasn't nothing. He could be, and was a lot stronger than he gave himself credit for. Maybe David would make him do... that... again, and maybe not, but he wouldn't allow David to crush his spirit or break him in doing so. He wouldn't let this haunt him, making him weak and timid. That wasn't Kurt Hummel. That wasn't Elizabeth Hummel's son. He was better than that. He was going to make it through this.