Wanted

“Haven’t seen ‘em,” said the old barkeep in a deep, gravelly voice after examining the sketch held before him. “Sorry.”

The saloon was empty save for the bartender and his assistant and their first visitor of the day. On the other side of the counter, the tunicked cowboy draped in a raggedy poncho and donning a dark hat folded the paper into his pocket and let out a sigh.

“I see,” he said. He tipped his hat with a “Thank you kindly fer yer time,” and strolled toward the exit. Before the cowboy could push through the swinging doors, however, the barkeep called out saying, “Wait. Have I seen you ‘round here before?” The cowboy shrugged and replied “Doubt it; I’m just passin’ through,” as he continued his exit.

Outside, the early morning sun scorched the small town with little clouds to shield a wanderer. As a single, large bird swayed in the wind high above, the cowboy untied his horse’s reigns and began walking down the central road of sandy dirt and scattered cobblestones. The horse was similarly cloaked in cloth to protect it from the sun’s rays leaving only its shining hooves revealed. Small, dark holes in the cloth allowed the horse to see from underneath its garments. The town was extremely quiet, even for the early hours of the weekend, but the cowboy kept along the main road which was all but vacant.

As the bartender shined his glasses in preparation for the afternoon and evening booms, his eyes caught sight of a familiar character. One of the many posters nailed to the announcements board displayed a sketch of the cowboy who had just left the premises.

Curtis “DAWN” Conrad

Wanted: DEAD or ALIVE

Reward: 10 G

The bartender choked on his chewing tobacco as he read the poster. His assistant patted his back and as his coughing calmed down, the barkeep rushed to the door. A 10-gold reward!? the bartender thought to himself as he swung through the batwing doors and looked up and down the road. He squinted under the sun and found the lone traveler not too far gone, but before he could call out, another figure stepped out into the road in front of the cowboy.

Curtis stopped and his horse froze in its tracks. A man in large boots and a wide brimmed hat stood with his hands on his hips facing Curtis. A gleaming badge at the man’s breast revealed his authority in town and the quiet atmosphere began to make sense.

“Curtis Conrad,” the sheriff called out. He stood roughly thirty feet from the cowboy and wore a revolver on his hip. “The Outlaw known as ‘Dawn.’ What are you doin’ in our little town?”

“I think you’re mistaken, sir,” Curtis replied. “My name’s Arthur Ray. I’m just passing through town; not meaning to cause any trouble.” The sheriff spit on the ground and chuckled.

“You sure look like Curtis Conrad,” he said with a heavy swallow. “Now quit yer playin’ and come quietly. No need fer reckless behavior here.” He fingered the handle of his revolver. Curtis gave up his act quickly—it was obvious his identity was known before he even made it this far. Curtis kept his arms by his side and slowly worked his hand under his poncho. With the slightest nudge of his cloak, however, the sheriff realized the threat and drew his gun. Curtis froze.

That was pretty fast, Curtis thought. With his test complete, Curtis raised his arms above his head. As the sheriff moved closer, revolver still aimed at Curtis, the cowboy made a proposition.

“I call upon my right to a duel.” The sheriff halted.

“Outlaws have no such right,” the sheriff answered. “Besides, sheriffs are exempt from duels. I can only bear witness.”

“Fine, then put me under arrest. I challenge my charge through a duel with the officer who detained me or a representative substitute,” Curtis stood still and kept his hands high. His horse made not a sound nor movement.

“You’re an Outlaw; you can’t do that,” the sheriff retorted.

“But as sheriff, you can make exceptions in your jurisdiction,” Curtis stated. “Whether I’m an Outlaw or just an aggressive drunk, you can bend the rules a bit if it’s in yer interest.”

Another voice cried out from the sheriff’s station saying, “He’s just tryin’ to bait you, sheriff! Don’t do it!” The sheriff glanced to see several officers watching from the door and windows of the building.

“I meant what I said about not wantin’ any trouble here,” Curtis called. “Let’s have a duel and if you win you can arrest me, but if I win, then I leave.”

The sheriff replied, “You’re forgettin’ the part where one of us ends up dead in the dirt.”

“Listen, sheriff,” Curtis said in as polite a tone as he could muster, “let’s not make this more complicated than it has to be. I don’t think you want to do this.”

“Wha– no. You listen, Dawn,” the sheriff said feeling a bit frustrated. “You’re in no position to negotiate. Come along and if it’s a fight fer your freedom you want, then that’s a Ranger’s job.”

“How about I don’t use a weapon and I call it a win if I can dodge yer bullet?” The sheriff was stunned by the audacity of the supposedly very dangerous Outlaw who invaded his town.

“You’re not goin’ to give this up, are ya?” the sheriff asked. Curtis grinned underneath his hat. The sheriff let out a long sigh and mumbled, “I must be some kind of idiot.” He holstered his revolver as Curtis slowly lowered his arms. The officers at the sheriff’s office groaned in disbelief as the sheriff and the Outlaw met and took even steps out to about twenty paces before turning to face each other. The horse was leashed to a post outside the sheriff’s office, and still stood completely still unless instructed by Curtis.

Sweat beaded on the sheriff’s forehead as the sun rose to the middle of the sky. Curtis stood calmly with his right hand lifted to reveal a similar revolver on his belt. The sheriff’s righthand fingers twitched as he waited for another officer acting as witness to call the shot. By then, locals had begun peeking through their window shutters and sneaking around back alleys to spectate the duel which no one thought would occur. The bartender from before climbed atop his assistant’s shoulders to get a better view from down the road; others just used binoculars.

The directing officer raised a stone above his head with one hand. He lowered his arm before swinging it right back up and launching the rock into the air. The officer lunged out of the way as the collective heart of the town skipped a beat. The stone plummeted to the ground and just as a thud indicated impact, two shots were fired almost simultaneously. Some members of the hiding audience looked away while the rest were stunned by what they saw.

The sheriff’s gun smoked as the sheriff stood frozen waiting to see if pain struck his abdomen. Curiously, while the sheriff’s revolver was pointed at Curtis, Curtis’s gun was pointed far above the sheriff—almost straight up—and he leaned to one side as if actually attempting to dodge the bullet. No one was sure what to make of the spectacle, but not a few moments after the shots, a condor fell from the sky and onto the sheriff’s head causing him to stumble. Curtis sprinted at the distracted sheriff and sent a flying knee to his stomach which brought the sheriff to the ground.

Curtis knocked the sheriff out cold with the back end of his revolver and stood again. Without waiting a second, Curtis retrieved his horse while the townsfolk were still dazed by the horrible turn of events and began riding out of town. A few seconds later, some officers fired at Curtis as he tried to make his escape, and others raced over to try and awaken the sheriff. Curtis held his hat as he ducked as low as he could on the horse’s back and commanded it to move full speed ahead. Bullets whizzed by as the Outlaw kept his head low making it hard to see in front of him, but soon the bullets stopped and Curtis thought he had escaped the thick of it.

As he raised his head again, Curtis was greeted by another imposing figure standing in the middle of the road. The man wore similar garments to Curtis, though a little cleaner, and seemed undeterred by the speeding steed heading directly for him. Curtis decided he wanted nothing more than to leave town, so he charged on, but the man ahead stood firm. The figure reached at his hip and drew a revolver and fired two shots at Curtis and his horse. Curtis tried steering his horse out of the way, but the loose dirt made the horse’s hooves skid and caused Curtis to slip off his mount’s back.

Curtis tumbled along the ground as his horse ran toward the edge of town before slowing to a stop. He moaned in pain and clutched at the left side of his stomach. Looking up, Curtis could hardly see the man standing over him with the sun blaring above—not to mention the barrel of a revolver inches from his skull consuming most of his gaze, as well.

“A little bird told me you’re looking for a duel,” said the voice belonging to the hand holding the gun. His accent was different from Curtis’s and those in town, but Curtis paid no attention to it. A head peaked from behind the revolver and the man continued, “The name’s Nathan Bowman; you can call me ‘Sly.’ You were looking for a Ranger, right?”

Curtis swallowed hard and he could feel the sweat beginning to drip down his face. Great, he thought. I don’t have time for this, especially since I didn’t actually dodge that bullet earlier. He continued putting pressure on his abdomen. Not to mention I used my last shot; I was really hoping to buy some ammo before headin’ out. I can’t deal with a Ranger right now.

Sly interrupted his thoughts. “Y’know it’s actually quite fortunate for me that you’re here, Mr. Dawn.” Curtis adjusted himself on the ground to better see the Ranger, but the revolver aimed between his eyes ensured that he didn’t stand.

“I didn’t think Rangers patrolled out this far,” Curtis said.

“Well, you could actually be my big break,” Sly responded with a bit of excitement. 

“Get me promoted for work in larger towns—or even the Big City, if your bounty was higher, that is.”

“Don’t let the government’s numbers tell you exactly how much a man is worth,” Curtis groaned.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Sly replied. “Come on, get on up.” Sly gestured to the side with his gun and Curtis began to rise. “Hands up, come on, now,” Sly directed. Curtis stood facing a building as Sly felt around underneath his poncho. Sly’s expression became one of slight surprise when he found two revolvers at Curtis’s hips, both empty. Sly chuckled. “This really is my lucky day, huh, Mr. Dawn?” Curtis winced as Sly patted the Outlaw’s torso before stepping back from Curtis. Curtis turned around to finally get a clear view of Sly.

The Ranger wore a neat poncho stained blue with decorative borders and a clean hat. A band around his arm signified his rank as a Ranger. As an Outlaw by decree of the government, Curtis knew a thing or two about Rangers and could tell without Sly’s help that the Ranger before him was not of high status; he didn’t look like a rookie, though, and couldn’t have been more than a few years Curtis’s senior. Curtis’s guess was that he must have been demoted or something along those lines. Otherwise, he thought, there probably wouldn’t be a Ranger this far south.

Sly broke into Curtis’s thoughts once again, saying “Now I know what you’re probably going to say. I overheard your banter with the sheriff, and I’ll tell you right away that a duel could be fun, for sure, especially after what I witnessed up the road.” The sheriff then approached the two cowboys, still wobbly from his injuries and propped up on one side by another officer, and spoke in a submissive tone to the Ranger with his hat in his hands.

“Mr. Sly, sir,” the sheriff started. “I–I’m really not sure what came over me. I think it might just be best to lock this Outlaw in jail ‘til—”

“I’ll be calling the shots from now on, thank you,” Sly interrupted. “I think I’m more than qualified to handle this on my own, sheriff.” The sheriff apologized quietly and backed away. Curtis cringed very slightly at the exchange. Sly turned back to Curtis, who still held his hands high, and smiled a devious grin.

“I’ll be honest with you, Dawn,” he said. “I’m not very interested in a duel with you. Honestly, I don’t really want to throw you in jail, either. I’m sort of thinking that I could just shoot you dead right now and go collect the bounty, and a promotion, for myself. What do you say to that, Outlaw?”

“I think it’s a pretty cruddy plan, honestly,” Curtis mumbled.

“Yeah, well, things look different from my side of the gun,” Sly replied. Curtis paused for a moment before saying, “You’re not from around here, are you, Sly? East side of the Valley Strip?”

“Nope. I’m not from the Valley at all. I come from higher grounds. Just an unfortunate series of events led me to this crapshoot of a town.”

“You talk a lot more proper like than folks from my turf.”

“That’s just how it is when you’re raised in a fancy state like I was. I came here expecting to work my whole career in the Big City, but like I said, bringing your body in ought to boost my rank back up to where it should be.”

“You seem like you’d fit right in with the big wigs,” Curtis said with a hint of sarcasm.

“You’re damn right, I do,” Sly asserted. “But enough chit chat. Time to say your final goodbyes to this world, Dawn.” Sly pulled the hammer on his revolver and took aim, but just as he shot, Curtis flung his poncho in one direction while lunging the other way causing Sly to flinch and give Curtis enough leeway to roll away from the shot. Sly cocked his gun twice more and fired two more bullets as Curtis ducked into an alley. Holes were left in the side of the building, all three having missed Curtis.

“Aw, now you’ve gone and made me shoot the bakery,” Sly groaned. Curtis’s breathing was heavy as he knelt behind the bakery for a quick break. His stomach ached immensely from the sheriff’s bullet and he was sure the bleeding would cause him to black out soon enough.

That was five, he thought. One more shot, then I can make a break for my horse and get the hell out of here.

“Come on out, Dawn,” Sly called from around the front of the bakery. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.” Curtis rummaged the alley for anything he could use to escape Sly’s last bullet. Sly paced slowly back and forth while keeping an eye on both sides of the building that Curtis could use to escape the alley. He stopped and listened: some slight shuffling behind the building told him that Curtis was making his way around the far side, but Sly was ready for him. Seconds later, a single boot stepped from around the corner followed by a tunicked body.

Sly didn’t hesitate in the slightest before taking the shot and hitting square in the middle of the tunic, but Curtis wasn’t the target. Curtis sprung from behind the building following the explosion of bleached powder as Sly realized what had happened.

“What!?” Sly shouted. “This bastard dressed a bag of flower in his shirt and hat to bait my sixth shot!” Sly couldn’t believe he fell for such a rudimentary ruse. Curtis sprinted toward the edge of town where his horse waited, but victory was not assured. Enraged, Sly cocked the hammer of his revolver one more time and fired. Curtis turned back in horror as a bullet tore a hole in his undershirt and collided with his chest. The Outlaw’s body slammed to the ground causing a cloud of dirt to splash in its wake.

The sheriff and other officers watching were just as shocked as Curtis was. Sly widened his stance and held his gun high into the air.

“That’s right,” Sly announced. “Every Ranger has his shtick.” Sly flung his arms out to push his poncho back and drew another revolver from his other hip “Mine? Dual-wielding seven-shot revolvers!” Sly held the fully loaded gun in his left hand and continued holding the empty one in his right. He laughed maniacally before calming down and turning to face the sheriff. “See? I told you I could handle it. Now I can finally get out of this town and work my way back to the Big City.”

The sheriff gulped. But as Sly continued celebrating the victory, a long two-note whistle cried from the body on the ground. Sly’s laughing halted and his smile instantly turned to a frown. Before he could react and fully face what he thought was Curtis’s corpse, the horse raced toward Sly. Sly was quick, however, and swiftly fired off two shots from his second revolver. The bullets tore through the horse’s cloak, but with two loud CLANGs the horse was undeterred and leapt over Sly’s head. Sly was bewildered by the height of the horse’s jump and paid no mind to the shining hooves about to smash his body into the ground disarming him.

Sly struggled to his hands and knees and faced the horse which was then partially uncovered. Every spectator had wide eyes and a hanging jaw as they observed the silvery exterior of the horse glistening in the sun. The horse’s metal body groaned as it reared up and let out a ghastly neigh sounding like the moan of gears and wheels turning within a mechanical beast. Steam bellowed from the horse’s nostrils as its shining hooves shook the ground. Sly was frozen. He couldn’t believe what he saw, but he wasn’t given much time to process the sight before Curtis called out to him.

Sly turned to see Curtis pull a bread pan out from his undershirt—a bullet still embedded in a large dent in the pan—and hit Sly across the face with it, twice for good measure. Curtis tossed the pan to the side and apologized.

“I guess I’m not yer big break after all,” Curtis said to the incapacitated Ranger. Large bruises already formed and were quickly succeeded by massive lumps on Sly’s forehead and cheek. A few teeth were loosened from Sly’s jaw, as well, and shook as he took gasping breaths. Curtis kept one hand on his bullet wound from earlier as he gathered his then bullet-hole-filled poncho and tunic, and replaced the hat on his head. He gathered his revolvers from the ground and loaded one of them with the remaining bullets in Sly’s gun. As unique as they were, Curtis had no interest in wielding the seven-shot revolvers.

He flung himself onto the metallic horse and tilted his hat to the sheriff. The sheriff and other officers were still too dumbfounded to open fire on the Outlaw as he raced away. Not too far from town, Curtis passed a large sign stating ‘See you soon…’ on one side, and on the other, ‘Welcome to Sunnyville.’ It was about a day’s journey on horse to the next town, but Curtis needed to travel slowly so as not to disturb his wound any more. He didn’t feel safe stopping before night, however, so he pressed on.

Next stop, he thought, Coyote Run.

A rather young lad sat curled up on the side of the road. His back was against the front wall of a large theater, and he held his knees to his chest. He stared into the clear night sky full of stars and with every breath, frost floated from his lungs and his whole body shivered. Passersby walked on as if they didn’t notice the boy. He was nineteen at the time, but his frail condition could have fooled anyone into thinking he was a child.

The young man had no one and no place to go. His clothes were simple rags that barely fit, and his shoes were made of woven sacks he stole from a bread stand; the bread kept in them was consumed long ago. The boy wanted to ration it out for himself, but his greed got the better of him—he couldn’t help but scarf it all down at once. As the boy sat, teeth chattering and fingernails blue, people began trickling out of the theater. Single persons became couples which turned to crowds and masses pouring from the theater’s doors.

The boy enjoyed the theater, or at least the outside of it. It was one of the only buildings in the city that kept its lights on past curfew. Who knew that the rapid expansion of new technologies would cause a regional power shortage? The lights made the boy feel warm and reminded him of the morning sun which he felt so lucky to see each dawn. The theater was also his best bet for finding sympathetic saps willing to throw a few pennies his way out of guilt. But as usual, the moviegoers went on their ways without paying much mind to the young man.

Most people tried to pretend that the boy wasn’t there, but their swift glances were more than enough confirmation that they knew and that they chose to ignore a practical corpse. That night, however, the young man’s life changed forever. All he could see was a vague figure—a man, he could tell—wearing a heavy coat and a wide-brimmed hat, all black. Something stuck out from his mouth: a toothpick the boy thought—or maybe a cigarette?—but either way, thin clouds of smoke or mist blew from his grinning mouth when he exhaled.

“What’s your name, son?” the man asked in a casual tone. His voice was almost a whisper, but still sounded as though it was the man’s natural speech. The boy’s gaze slowly moved from the stars to the shaded figure. He opened his mouth and his dry lips cracked after being still for so long.

“Arthur,” the boy squeezed out.

“Do you have a last name?” the man asked.

“Ray,” the boy complied. The man knelt next to Arthur and commented on the beauty of the night sky without the crowding of artificial lights. The man draped his heavy coat around the boy, and they sat on the side of the road for a few minutes. Eventually, an officer found the pair and informed them that it was passed curfew.

“My apologies,” the man said standing. “I was enjoying the theater and got distracted by the beauty of the sky on my way out. Here’s my ticket.” The officer approved of the excuse and urged the man to hurry home.

“Right away, officer,” the man said. He then turned to Arthur. “We best be getting home, son.” Arthur stared at the man but didn’t move or speak. “You do want to go home, don’t you?” the man proposed. Arthur stood and followed the man back to a hotel where he agreed to be the man’s adopted son. The man explained that he did not live in the city, so the next morning they journeyed south to a little town called Dry Creek. For several years, Arthur stayed with the kind theatergoer helping around the man’s ranch and learning valuable skills that any man should know.

Eventually, however, the fantasy had to end. One day, the mysterious man vanished 

without a trace leaving Arthur once again all alone—though by that time, the man had given Arthur Ray a new name: Curtis Conrad. While investigating the ranch, Curtis found only a single note by the stable which stated that the lone horse left inside was a gift to Curtis. Opening the stable doors revealed a glistening silver stallion made entirely of metal. Even then, Curtis never learned the man’s name.

***

Curtis awoke to find the sun’s rays barely revealing themselves over the horizon. He slowly stood minding his bandaged bullet wound and began preparations for heading into town. Curtis yanked the drapes from his metallic steed before rewrapping it, so the tears didn’t interfere with the disguise. He rounded up his dinnerware and knapsack, then urinated on the smoldering remains of his campfire before kicking the pile of ash away with his boot.

Even though it was full of bullet holes, he flung his cloak over his shoulders and mounted his horse as the sun finally showed itself. Before riding off, he studied the wanted poster he kept in his pocket. A vague masculine figure wearing all black was pictured along with the name and bounty. “Wanted: DEAD or ALIVE” it read. Curtis sighed.

Where did you go? he thought.

Within the hour, Curtis arrived in a new town both in the sense that he had never visited the locale before, and that it was only recently established. The sign at the edge of the town’s limits read “Welcome to Coyote Run” in bold, golden letters. Even early in the morning, the town was bustling with busybodies shopping, going to and from church, gambling, and day drinking.

Finally, Curtis thought. A crowded town to blend in with. He rode his horse at a steady pace through town keeping an eye out for authorities, and a grocery store. He was certain that word would have traveled from Sunnyville to neighboring towns by then, but if he kept his hat low and didn’t cause a scene, the larger population of Coyote Run should allow him to slip by unnoticed.

“Oof!” a voice cried out followed by a hard thud. Curtis’s horse stopped as Curtis looked ahead to see who was blocking his path. A young girl—Curtis guessed ten to twelve years old—sat on her rear rubbing her lower back in front of the Outlaw. Curtis watched her play out the injury for a few seconds before saying “Gotta watch where yer goin’ little miss.” He spurred his horse, but before it could trot away, the girl stood and blocked Curtis’s path again.

“Wait a minute,” she said with puffed cheeks and a stern expression. “You just hit me! Don’tcha think you should be compensatin’ me somehow?” She rubbed her thumb against her fingers on one hand. Curtis chuckled.

“Yeah, right,” he said. “I was a kid once, too, y’know. That ain’t gonna work on me.” He tried riding away once again, but for a third time, the girl stopped him.

“Where do you think yer goin’?” she asked with a raised hand. Curtis’s horse exhaled onto her palm. “Don’t go thinkin’ this is just some lazy cash grab I’ve got goin’ on. I could charge you with a serious offense, ya know, should I decide to get the authorities involved. It is my institutional right.” Curtis stared at her with slight irritation.

“Do kids your age normally know all these big words?” he teased. The girl stomped a foot and crossed her arms.

“I’m fourteen years of age,” she asserted before tacking on, “Old man.” Curtis’s brow twitched.

“I’m not that old,” Curtis retorted. “I just haven’t slept in a real bed in days. So, if you’ll excuse me, missy, I’d like to find a place offering mattresses and pillows for rent, so I don’t have to sleep on the sandy ground of the desert again tonight.”

“Hey!” the girl shouted. “I’m not lettin’ you go anywhere without payin’ me reparations.” Curtis sighed both at the proposition that this girl could stop him from doing anything and at the feeling that she was trying to show off her vocabulary.

“Listen,” Curtis sighed again. “I don’t have much coin to my name to begin with. I wouldn’t be able to feed myself if I just gave away money to any brat on the street.”

“Well, I’m not just any brat,” the girl explained. “I’m homeless.” Almost as if to brag. 

“So, you’ve gotta feel at least a little sorry for me.” She gave her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“Ah, I see,” Curtis said. He thought for a moment before asking, “What’s yer name, hon?”

“Mabel,” she answered.

“Well, Mabel,” Curtis said. “Get lost.” He spurred his horse once more and began heading toward the center of town. Mabel called out from behind him.

“Can’t you at least spare me a dime for some bread?” she begged.

“You could make do with a few pennies,” Curtis replied. “But not from this cowboy!” 

Mabel pouted for a moment before disappearing into the crowded streets. Curtis found himself surrounded by peoples of all kind and likely from all over the Valley Strip. Every way he turned he saw men, women, and children of all colors and ages wandering around with their own business and dressed in all manners of fashion including similar garbs to Curtis’s.

I really do blend in here, Curtis thought relieved. Just in case, Curtis hopped off his horse and led it around by the reigns. He stopped by each store he came across picking out breakfast for himself before grabbing canned foods and nonperishable meals for later, as well as ammo for his two revolvers. Without much thought, Curtis spent several hours getting to know the town and what it had to offer. Unfortunately, he couldn’t buy too much on the side of luxury with the sparce coin in his purse, but he had an idea. On the outskirts of the market zone, several saloons dotted the sides of the road. The saloons themselves weren’t the target, though.

In every busy town, the space around a saloon is just as sleezy and crowded as the interior. Curtis strolled from bar to bar scoping out the crowds to find what he hoped would be an easy win. All kinds of games were played all around town from chess to dice, cards to horseshoes, all of them coming with a chance to win coin, assuming the player contributed to the pot, that is. Curtis had only four dimes to his name, but he was confident in his skills at street poker, and money wasn’t the only thing he hoped to win.

Keeping an ear on the crowd gave Curtis some valuable information such as which individuals were betting possessions other than money for one reason or another. After spending over an hour hopping in and out of games, winning some and losing others, Curtis found his primary target.

“Tell you what,” Curtis proposed. “I noticed you have a room key for that inn ‘cross the way. Offer it up and I’ll wager all the money you’ve lost plus some.”

“You crazy?” the man asked baffled. “I wouldn’t have a place to sleep tonight if I lost. And I wouldn’t be able to pay for another room. Why can’t you just buy one for yerself now?”

“I’ve got some financial goals I’m workin’ toward,” Curtis replied. “So how about all your money plus fifty percent?” The man sighed as the crowd urged him to go for broke. Curtis waited patiently for the man to agree, and the next hand was dealt.

“What?” Curtis shouted after his opponent revealed a straight flush to his four-of-a-kind. The man seemed bewildered at his own luck on the final hand as the crowd cheered and pushed Curtis around playfully, but still quite roughly. Curtis’s face sunk into his hands. He was back down to ten dimes; still some solid coin, but change compared to what he just had minutes before. While Curtis sulked at his loss, a certain young girl scoped out the outer ring of the crowd.

Mabel walked barefoot—having left her shoes hidden behind some barrels in a nearby alley—and occasionally performed a convincing cough to gather the attention of those around her. She held out a dirty hand to anyone who glanced her way and said she was terribly sick to anyone foolishly curious enough to engage her. She received only good wishes from most, but an occasional sucker would shell out a penny or two for the seemingly desperate little girl. She was just about to move on to another crowd when the intensity of that particular gathering captured her attention.

Mabel pushed through the crowd to find Curtis at the center of it all, still in depression about his loss. His opponent cheered and danced with the crowd. Mabel grew furious thinking Curtis had lied about having little coin for himself earlier and believing him to just be another selfish gambler. She contemplated the idea of snatching Curtis’s coin purse while he was pining his former riches, but before she made the decision to act, Curtis stood and approached the man who beat him.

“Hey,” he said just loud enough for the man to hear him over the roaring spectators. 

“Let’s go another round.”

The man laughed. “Are you crazy?” he shouted. “I’d be an idiot for playing another round with you! I just got lucky on that last hand; you beat me senseless the entire game until the end!”

“So, your lack of sense should tell you to play another,” Curtis pleaded. The man continued laughing. “Come on, I won’t even ask for money. Wager the room key again; you have plenty to buy another if I win.”

“You are crazy,” the man stated. “You have enough for a room in that inn; it’s not that fancy. If you’re desperate enough to beg me, then your financial goals shouldn’t matter as much as a night’s sleep in a warm, cozy, dimly lit room on a soft, blanketed, and oh so comfortable bed.”

Curtis’s hat sat low over his face. He wasn’t really that desperate, but he didn’t want to spend his money at an inn, either. He exhaled slowly and drowned out the noise of the crowd around him. He kept his breathing steady and focused on the man in front of him.

“I’m out of here,” the man said. “Good luck with your goals and whatever.” As the man turned to break through the crowd, Curtis spoke in a calm tone, but loudly enough for the man to clearly hear his voice over the surrounding people.

“I implore you, sir,” Curtis started. “Out of the spirit of the game, join me for one more round.” The man stopped and slowly turned to meet Curtis’s eyes.

“You aren’t goin’ to give this up, are ya?” the man asked. Curtis grinned. “Well, I must be feelin’ mighty generous today. Fine,” the man said. “You wager the rest of your coin, and I’ll bet you this here room key.” Curtis agreed and another hand was dealt. It wasn’t a very flashy win, but a flush over a three-of-a-kind will do it. The man begrudgingly handed Curtis the key to his room at the inn but wasn’t too disappointed overall with his winnings. Curtis thanked him for his generosity, and they both parted from the crowd.

Curtis wasn’t too excited about his win but was willing to take what he could get. He was too exhausted from what he’d done in town already to gamble anymore, so he wandered away from the gamblers to explore Coyote Run a bit more. As he walked, he stopped to ask locals about the man on the wanted poster in his pocket, too, before settling in at the inn, but nobody recognized the sketch. He targeted that inn specifically due to its private stable pens so he could store his horse without having to worry about any curious stable workers handling it for him. It wasn’t long into his exploration that Curtis was caught by a familiar voice shouting at him. He turned around and found Mabel glaring up at him using one hand to block the sun from her eyes.

“‘Not much coin to my name,’ huh?” she spat. “Stupid, greedy old man.” She kicked Curtis’s shin. He grunted in pain and clutched his leg. Mabel crossed her arms and puffed her cheeks again.

“Hey!” Curtis shouted. “You don’t go around kickin’ people, especially adults! Now get out o’ here; I’m not givin’ you any damn coin. What I have is all I have, so leave me be.”

“You’re sure no philanthropist,” Mabel said. “You do have a gambling problem, though.” Curtis shook his head.

“No,” he defended. “Just because I gamble doesn’t mean I have a problem.”

“It’s a pretty unreliable way to make money. You could have paid for your own room, but your greed got the better of you. You just had to rob that man naked.” Curtis’s expression fell from annoyance to frustration.

“You listen here, little miss whatsyername—.”

“My name is Mabel.”

“Whatever; don’t care. You’re just a kid, so you don’t understand too much about money yet. Plus, you’re homeless, so you double don’t know a thing about money or what adults choose to do with it.”

“I’m much more intelligent that you think, mister.”

“No. I think you think that you’re more intelligent just because you know some big-kid-vocab words.”

“I am a big kid; I’m fourteen!”

“Like I said, I don’t care. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Curtis straightened himself after confirming that his leg was okay, “I have stuff to do, so take your dirty little feet and get ‘em movin’ the other way.” Curtis turned and began walking toward the less crowded business and residential zones of Coyote Run, but Mabel didn’t give up her pursuit.

“What kind of stuff?” she pried. “More ‘adult’ activities?”

“It’s none of your business,” Curtis responded. “Now go away.” But Mabel followed. Curtis kept trying to zigzag his strut so his horse would always block Mabel’s path to him, but her thin structure allowed her to nimbly cross under the horse’s belly and stick right by Curtis’s side. Curtis did his best to ignore the little girl while asking streetwalkers and business owners about the man on the wanted poster, but Mabel was becoming increasingly bothersome. He found himself giving up after only twenty-or-so minutes of questioning and confronted Mabel in front of a bookstore.

“Just stop, okay?” Curtis shouted and threw his arms out. “You’re pretty irritatin’, but I’m even more stubborn. I’m not givin’ you a single penny no matter how much you whine and beg. If you want better chances, go find a theater if this town even has one. That’s where the rich folk hang out.” Curtis worried little about who paid attention to a man yelling at a homeless little girl, but unbeknownst to both he and Mabel, a particular pair of eyes was watching their dispute unfold. “Now, scram before I treat you like the child you’re behaving like and give you a proper spankin’ before droppin’ your ass in the dirt.”

“Now that is no way to talk to a poor little girl,” a voice called from across the street. Curtis turned from Mabel to see who decided to scold him and forgot all about his annoying follower upon catching site of Nathan “Sly” Bowman with one of his seven-shot revolvers already drawn. “‘Bout time I caught up to you, Dawn.”

Curtis clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on his horse’s reigns before the rest of his body tensed up. Before he could think, his body moved just as Sly fired a bullet at him. Curtis took cover behind his horse before looking around to find Mabel already gone, most likely having scurried away at the sight of a gun being pointed in their direction. The glass of the bookstore’s front window shattered and frightened the patrons inside. Curtis poked his head out from behind his steed and called out to Sly.

“Are you crazy, Sly?” he yelled. “You could’ve hit anyone with that bullet! Didn’t you notice a little girl standin’ next to me?”

“Well, aren’t you so high and mighty?” Sly replied still aiming his revolver toward Curtis. Residents of Coyote Run began fleeing the scene and calling for police.

I have to end this quick, Curtis thought. He commanded his horse to charge at Sly as a distraction. Sly stood strong just as before and resisted the urge to fire more bullets at the metal stallion.

“I’m not scared anymore,” Sly shouted. “I don’t know what that horse’s deal is, but it won’t get the better of me again!” Sly side-stepped out of the way as the horse sped past, but he didn’t notice Curtis hot on its trail. Curtis tackled Sly to the ground and knocked the Ranger’s head into the front porch of the building he stood in front of. Sly recoiled in pain and released his gun. Curtis picked it up before Sly had the chance to recover and smacked him across the cheek with the butt of the revolver. Sly yelped and gave Curtis an opening to confiscate the second revolver on Sly’s belt.

“I still don’t really like these things,” Curtis said as his horse circled back and stopped by his side. “But I’m taking the rest o’ your ammo.” Curtis emptied the revolvers and stashed the bullets in the bundle on his horse. “I’m not gonna be your big break, Sly. Give up this chase.” Curtis swung himself onto his horse’s saddle and turned to flee just as more voices called to him.

“Stop right there!” the police commanded. “Off the horse, then don’t you move!”

Damn, not good, Curtis thought. This is gonna be tough to get out of. Sly shakily helped himself to his feet with the support of the railing around the porch he was next to and raised his hands into the air.

“I’m a Ranger, officers,” Sly replied to the police. “This man is an Outlaw. I’m trying to turn him in!”

The officers began their approach and replied, “We were told a well-dressed man fired a gun at a shady-looking figure. You’re both under arrest!”

“What?” Sly exclaimed, obviously distraught that his plan failed. Curtis hesitated no longer and turned his horse away from the police. The police shouted as Curtis raced away from the scene and a whistle blew signaling for other officers to pursue him on horseback. Curtis had a head start, though, so he managed to briefly escape the police’s watchful eyes, but anybody who saw Curtis could have easily given directions to the police, so he had to keep moving.

He weaved through town and tried to race through the busy crowds near the markets and saloons, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to slink through the back alleys if he wanted to escape, but with the police’s superior knowledge of Coyote Run’s layout, they would surely catch him. Curtis made his way behind a few buildings before taking a second to think, but before he could consider his options very much, Mabel whispered to Curtis.

“What the hell is going on?” she squealed frantically. Curtis looked at her dumbfounded that she was still hanging around. “You’re an Outlaw? Like, a real, on-the-run Outlaw?”

“Why are you still around?” Curtis asked in a harsh tone. “Don’t you see you could get hurt bein’ around me? I don’t have time to waste here, I need to go.”

“Wait,” Mabel pleaded. “Take me with you.” Curtis was again stunned.

“Why in the blazes would you—”

“I have nowhere to go!” Mabel cried. She stood for a moment and a single tear streamed down her face. “I’ve grown up on these streets almost entirely alone for my whole life. I’ve never known where I came from and the only reason I even made it this far was because of a couple generous folk who took care of me, but they’re gone now, so I really do have nothing.” Curtis sighed and looked Mabel in the eyes.

“Kid, look, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time for a sob story,” he said in as comforting a tone as he could muster while also feeling like the police would find him at any second. “And I really can’t be takin’ care of ya while I’m on the run; it wouldn’t be good for either of us.” He turned away from the girl and was about to spur his horse, but Mabel called out one more time.

“You need to evade the police, right?” she asked. “I can help you navigate the alleys in town. I know them better than anyone. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with authorities, and they’ve never been able to keep up.” Curtis pondered the thought for a moment and out of desperation, he swept Mabel onto the front of the saddle.

“Alrighty, then, missy,” Curtis said. “Get me out o’ town, but I’m not taking you with me after that. Maybe I could pay for yer dinner, though.” Curtis whipped his horse’s reigns and Mabel pointed out the best routes to evade the police. She suggested tighter corridors where horses normally had trouble navigating to slow the police’s pursuit. Curtis assured her that his horse could handle anything, so they squeezed down narrow halls of alleys and leaped over fences separating properties.

“‘Scuse us, sorry!” Curtis shouted as they almost trampled the few townsfolk walking the alleyways and Mabel continued to navigate. She pointed to an opening up ahead.

“That’ll bring us to the main road just a few hundred yards from the edge of town,” she explained. “Not too crowded of a street, either, and the police’s search shouldn’t be that wide yet.”

“You really know yer stuff,” Curtis said impressed with Mabel’s ability. A few moments later, the disguised steel steed burst from the alleys and raced along the main road out of town, and as the duo reached the last outer edge, Curtis slowed to a stop. He lifted Mabel off the horse and reached into his coin purse to pull out a dime.

“Listen,” he said, “I know it’s not much, but you could make that last a few days if you ration.” He put his purse away and sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t do more, but just keep surviving and maybe one day you’ll catch a lucky break, I don’t know.” Curtis was about to spur his horse when Mabel grabbed his leg tightly.

“Please don’t go without me,” she whimpered. Curtis looked down at the girl and saw her face plastered with fear and desperation—seemingly genuine this time. “I don’t want to be alone again,” she said shakily. “You’re the only person in a long time who’s spoken more than a few passing phrases to me, even if it was mostly frustrated banter and insults. I’d rather be on the run than on the streets.”

Curtis thought for more than a few moments before Mabel interrupted him like she was so good doing. “Besides,” she added with a sniffle, “if you don’t take me, I’ll tip the police off to where you went.” Curtis sighed but couldn’t help to grin just a tiny bit.

“You really are just a brat,” he groaned and held a hand toward Mabel. The girl smiled and grabbed the Outlaw’s hand. Curtis hoisted Mabel onto the horse, this time on the rear of the saddle, and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his back, then Curtis whipped the reigns and rode off.

The two rode in silence for several hours until the sun began to set. Curtis found as cozy of a spot as he could and helped Mabel off his horse before dismounting himself. He rubbed his horse’s neck and told it to take a break, then began making preparations for a campfire. Mabel gathered dried sticks from the brush while Curtis fumbled through his bundle for a tinderbox. Before long, the two of them sat opposite the fire as night consumed the desert. They talked here and there but shared little information about themselves past what had already been found out that afternoon. Mabel did, however, ask what Curtis was doing in Coyote Run.

“I’m just lookin’ for someone,” Curtis answered. “I’m askin’ people in every town I pass through.” He took a sip from his waterskin.

“Are you searching for them to kill them?” Mabel interrogated. Curtis choked on his water.

“No, no,” he said. “I just have some questions.”

“Must be some pretty important questions,” Mabel mumbled. “You seem like the type to get into trouble wherever he goes.”

“Well, I don’t try. But, yeah, I’ve got a bit of a reputation.”

“Nobody immediately recognized you though, so you can’t be that wanted.”

“I’ve got…a bounty.”

“How much?”

Curtis waited a minute before answering. “I don’t really want to talk about my status with you, no offense,” he said. Mabel nodded. Curtis reached into his pocket and pulled out the room key he won and held it out in front of him. “Don’t need this, I suppose,” he sighed before tossing the key into the dark desert. As he stared out into the night, he caught sight of what looked like someone meandering toward their camp. Curtis rose to his feet and told Mabel to get behind him. He hovered a hand over his waist underneath his cloak as the figure revealed himself by the firelight. Mabel’s eyes widened as she peeked around Curtis’s body.

“That’s the guy who tried to shoot you today,” she exclaimed. Sly stood a comfortable fifteen feet away from the campfire and looked at Curtis. Curtis drew his revolver and aimed it at Sly with his finger on the trigger.

“I guess bein’ a Ranger gets you out o’ jail pretty quick, huh?” he joked. “Doesn’t matter, though. Move and I shoot.” Sly stood still and examined the camp; he also spotted Mabel hiding in the shadow of Curtis’s cloak.

“I’m not here to try and fight anymore,” Sly said softly. “Actually, I…”

Curtis breathed steadily and watched for any signs of a surprise attack. Sly didn’t appear immediately ready to draw his pistols, but Curtis didn’t take his eyes off Sly’s hands. Mabel swallowed deeply from behind Curtis and held her breath. Sly sighed and looked Curtis in the eyes.

“I…want to join you.”

“Come again?” Curtis inquired. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and temples, surely from the fire, he thought. Sly straightened himself and took a deep breath.

“I want to join you,” Sly repeated. He raised his hands slightly and Curtis flinched at the gesture. “I know we’ve been at each other’s throats these past couple of days,” he said.

“No,” Curtis interjected. “You’ve been at mythroat. I didn’t want any trouble in Sunnyville, and I sure didn’t want anything to do with you in Coyote Run.”

“Okay, okay,” Sly admitted. “Listen, it’s my job as a Ranger to deal with Outlaws such as yourself. But, hey, I’ve had a change of heart. I swear, see?” Sly slowly drew his seven-shot revolvers from their holsters making it obvious that his fingers were off the triggers and laid them at his feet. Curtis lowered his weapon as Sly took a step over his revolvers and met the Outlaw at his fire. Curtis instructed Mabel to retrieve Sly’s revolvers as the Outlaw and Ranger sat across from each other with the fire between them. Mabel hesitated.

“You want me to pick up the guns?” she confirmed. “Those are fully loaded weapons, right?”

“You bet your little heinie they are,” Sly stated. “The hammers aren’t pulled, though, if it makes you feel better.” Mabel inched her way closer to the firearms and collected them. Curtis fumbled in his satchel for some of the rations he purchased in Coyote Run and handed one to Mabel.

“You wanna join me?” Curtis asked. “I assume you mean travel with me and work together in some way.”

“That’s right,” Sly said. Curtis thought for a moment and took a bite of his prepacked meal.

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled. “I guess you can tag along.”

Mabel’s jaw dropped. “Woah, woah, woah,” she exclaimed quite confused. “You justsaid this guy’s been tryin’ to kill you these last two days. I saw him pursuin’ you myself! Now yer just gonna let ‘im tag along with us?”

Not like I wanted you either, Curtis thought. “I’ve been backstabbed and double crossed enough times to know when someone’s hidin’ somethin’. I can tell Sly’s bein’ genuine. He’s done huntin’ this cowboy.” He took another bite of his food.

Mabel eyed Sly across the fire. Her attention darted back to Curtis. “But wait a minute!” she barked. “You were reluctant to take me on as a subordinate—There she goes with the big words again, Curtis thought—but you’re willin’ to take on yer former enemy so easily?”

Curtis sighed. “Look, I figure if I already have you ‘round, I might as well make a band of it. I won’t get to be alone from now on anyway.”

Sly’s expression was also one of surprise. “I honestly thought it would take more convincing, too. I mean, I had a whole explanation for why I wanted to team up and everything!” He almost sounded disappointed that he didn’t get to explain.

“We have all night,” Curtis said, tossing a ration to Sly. “What’s yer grand plan, Ranger?”

“Well,” Sly started, “I have a couple of ideas in mind. I still plan to reestablish myself as a big shot, preferably in the Big City. So, I figured I could ride along with you and bag any other Outlaws we might face on our journey.”

Our journey, Curtis thought with an internal chuckle.

“I figured you wouldn’t care about anyone else going to jail. Outlaws don’t really care for one another most of the time, right?”

“I tend to avoid other Outlaws when I can,” Curtis said finishing his food. “Hard to trust other crooks.”

“Right! So, I come along with you making sure to lay low so as not to associate my image with you, and I turn in other bad guys that might give you trouble. We could split the bounties, of course. Then, after a few arrests, I’m out of your hair and get to return to my high status in the Big City! What do you say?”

“Dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Mabel said. Curtis smacked the back of her head lightly and she groaned.

“Eat yer damn food, child,” Curtis scolded. “You’re lucky I’m even sharin’ with ya.” He turned his focus back to Sly. “It would be rather risky, though. People would probably recognize at least one of us as soon as we picked a fight with another Outlaw. How would you explain it to other officers if they saw us in cahoots?”

“I’m not too sure,” Sly admitted. “That’s why I have a backup plan. Instead of getting my life back in the Big City, I could make a new name for myself as an Outlaw. I understand it’s a tough life, but I’m sure I could still make it big!”

Curtis chuckled. “You do realize you don’t get paid for bein’ an Outlaw, right?”

“Of course not!” Sly laughed. “But if we go after other Outlaws with bounties like yours, we’d be in business. Ten gold is a lot of money.”

Mabel choked on her food. She took a deep breath and shouted, “Ten gold!?” Curtis rolled his eyes. “Yer bounty is 10 gold? That’s more money than I’ve ever seen in my life—than I’ll ever see! Only the government deals in gold; what’d you do to git such a target on yer back?”

“We’re not talkin’ about this right now,” Curtis asserted.

“Not to brag or anything,” Sly said, “but I used to live in a house worth 100 times that in the Big City.” Mabel’s eyes looked as though they would pop from their sockets. Such funds were completely unimaginable in her mind.

“What the hell, Sly?” Curtis groaned. “What did youdo to lose all that?”

Sly retreated into his meal. “I…don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough,” Curtis sighed. The three sat silently for a little while as Mabel and Sly finished their suppers. Mabel was still visibly dumbfounded by the monetary value surrounding her. As Curtis wrapped up the dinnerware and rinsed them with some water he boiled while they ate, his steed approached the group and huffed. Curtis stood and rubbed its neck and whispered to it. Mabel giggled.

“I wonder if ‘e heard yer comment about bein’ alone earlier,” she teased. “He’s been by yer side for a while if I had t’ guess.”

“What’s his name?” Sly wondered aloud.

“It doesn’t have a name,” Curtis said, still gently petting the horse.

“What?” Sly exclaimed shaking his head. “You never named your horse? That’s cruel.”

“Oh, oh, can we name it now?” Mabel wished. “Is it a he or a she?”

Curtis thought for a moment. “I don’t really know, I guess,” he said.

“Well, it’s not hard to find out,” Sly chuckled. “Let’s take a peek.”

“I know how to tell a boy from a girl,” Curtis replied, annoyed. “I know what to look for.” He moved his hand down the horses back and continued petting. “You know about it, though, Sly. This ain’t no ordinary horse.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Sly said. “You might as well show it to us since we’ll be traveling together.” Curtis exhaled calmly and began undoing the horse’s garments. The horse’s silvery exterior glistened in the firelight; it huffed the cool desert air. Sly stared with a stern curiosity while Mabel’s gaze was one of astonishment. Curtis rubbed the horse’s cheeks and nose. The horse continued huffing into his hand and shook its head playfully.

“Well, I’ll be…” Sly let out. “I thought I was seeing things. I pondered if maybe you had specially crafted gear for it or something, like fitted armor, but this is even more unusual.” Mabel inched closer and the horse jerked its eyes in her direction. Mabel jumped but stood her ground. The glassy marbles that resembled real eyes were dark, almost creepy, but they had a depth to them as if they were genuine.

“It won’t hurt ya,” Curtis reassured her. He held out a hand. “You were ridin’ it just fine earlier.”

“I didn’t know it was…well…what is it exactly?” she questioned. Sly awaited an answer, as well.

“Exactly what it looks like,” Curtis said. “A horse entirely made of metal. Some sorta complex machine, I suppose, but it definitely acts like a real horse. Not scared of bullets though.” He glanced at Sly who replied with a nod and a smile.

“It also can’t swim; it’s too heavy. Gotta be careful when riding on softer sand, too. It tends to sink in and get sand all in its joints. But as long as I keep it clean and oiled up from time to time, it doesn’t require food or water and can carry heavy loads.” The horse nodded as if it understood what Curtis was saying. Mabel was petting the side of its torso now.

“Where’d you find it?” Mabel asked.

“Another good question,” Sly added.

“It was given to me,” Curtis said, his hat low so the glow of the fire didn’t reach his face. “As a gift, I guess.”

“Whom from?” the girl continued.

“Well,” Curtis said, thinking. “I can’t really say for sure. I never knew his real name. I lived on his farm for a few years and the only thing I knew to call him was ‘Midnight.’ He was an Outlaw, but I didn’t know that until after he disappeared.”

“And now you’re looking for him.” Sly stated. Curtis raised his eyes a bit to meet Sly’s. “I talked to the owner of that Saloon in Sunnyville after you left.”

“That’s who you were talkin’ ‘bout earlier?” Mabel asked. Curtis nodded slightly.

“I really can’t tell ya much about him.” Curtis removed the wanted poster of Midnight from his pocket and handed it to Sly.

“I’ve heard of him,” Sly said. “But I couldn’t tell you anything. He was never any of my concern.”

Cutis continued. “In my years of helpin’ him around the farm, I didn’t get to know him very well. Then, one day, he just up and left. Left this horse behind in his barn, but nothing else. I just want some answers.”

“How did you meet the guy?” Mabel inquired.

“He took me off the streets when I was a younger lad,” Curtis said. “Older than you, though. I lived with him for about four years. I didn’t really know what to do after he left, so I abandoned the empty ranch and wandered around for about a year-and-a-half ‘til I could confidently make it on my own, then I set out tryin’ to find ‘im. Obviously, in that time, things got a little complicated and I made a few bad decisions—really bad, he thought—and accrued quite the bounty for myself. I have these dreams, though, about life back on the ranch. Nothing new to me, but I only started having them after beginning my search, so I’m hopin’ they might lead me somewhere one of these days. Otherwise, I decided it’d be best just to start south and make my way northward through the Valley Strip followin’ any leads I get. Nothin’ so far, though.”

“The ranch was in Dry Creek, right?” Sly asked. Curtis nodded understanding that was more information Sly had been told as a Ranger. “Have you tried going back there?”

Curtis shook his head. “Not yet. It’s right outside the Big City, so anyone keepin’ an eye out for high profile Outlaws like me would notice me right away. I reckon Midnight’s probably stayin’ away, too, for the same reason. We’ll make it there eventually, though, if we keep heading north town by town.”

“So, you’ve accrued a bounty,” Mabel began. Curtis noticed her use of the word he said earlier. Mabel continued, “equal to 10,000 dimes over the span of 18 months?” She lowered her hand from the horse and looked at her feet. “Sorry,” she said. “You said not to talk about it.”

“If you think that’s high,” Sly snorted, “come check out what Midnight is worth.”

Mabel stepped away from the horse and to the other side of the fire where Sly sat. She took the poster from him and nearly ejected her eyeballs from her head when she read the text.

“Midnight”

Wanted: DEAD or ALIVE

Reward: 500 G

Mabel blinked quickly, making sure she was reading it right. She swallowed deeply and exhaled. “His bounty is 500,000 dimes!?” She couldn’t help but to yell. “That would almost be enough to put you right back where you were in the Big City!” she said to Sly who smiled proudly. She faced Curtis exclaiming, “You lived with who has to be the most wanted criminal in whole Valley, no, the world!”

Curtis shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t know. He was a nice guy, very kind eyes. Taught me how to survive by my lonesome.”

Mabel looked at Sly hoping he could confirm her next statement. “This has to be the highest bounty on anyone ever, right?”

Sly pursed his lips. “Yeah, probably. Definitely the highest I ever knew about.”

Mabel’s hands shivered and wrinkled the edges of the paper under her fingers as it vibrated in her grip. “I can’t imagine the atrocious things someone would have to do to have such a big reward attached to their arrest.” Her voice was shaky.

“I’m just impressed you can read, a girl your age,” Curtis said. “Though, I shouldn’t be surprised since you know such big words,” he teased. “Big numbers, too.”

“You don’t get a bounty that high just by doing crimes,” Sly said. “I’m sure Dawn knows exactly what I mean.”

That was the first time Sly had referred to Curtis directly by name since he arrived at their camp, and Curtis was unsure how to feel about the Ranger using his alias but didn’t correct him. Mabel looked at Curtis with a curious expression. Curtis did know and convinced himself that he should share the information with his so-called band.

“Yeah,” he started. “There’s somethin’ else that can boost yer bounty by quite a lot if the government is interested in it. You’re referring to Spells, right Sly?”

Sly nodded. “Yep. I bet this Midnight guy had quite the power.”

Mabel was confused. “Wait, power? Spell? What do you mean? Don’t tell me this Outlaw was a magician or somethin’.”

“Street performers have nothing on Spells,” Curtis scoffed. “They’re like magic, I guess, but real. Special abilities that some people have which they can often use to their benefit, whether that means by harming others, or maybe helping them. Obviously, an Outlaw with a Spell is big trouble to the government, so their bounty receives a major boost.”

“So, what kind of Spell did Midnight have?” Mabel asked.

“I don’t know,” Curtis frowned. “But he taught me everything I know about mine.”

Mabel was stunned to learn that Curtis possessed some sort of magic ability. Sly grinned. “I knew it,” the Ranger said. “I could tell you weren’t trouble enough to warrant such a high bounty unless you had a Spell.” Mabel seemed light on her heels as she questioned Curtis about his power. Of course, Sly wished to know, as well.

“It’s really nothin’ special,” Curtis said. “I don’t know why the government is so interested in it.”

“Well, spill the beans,” Sly pushed.

Curtis sighed and hesitated as if he was a bit embarrassed about his lackluster abilities. “All I can do is, well, you could say I can compel someone into a duel. That is, make them face off against me in a fair one-on-one match of some kind whether that be a bet in a game, a fight, whatever.”

Sly nodded slowly. “So that’s what it was. The sheriff in Sunnyville wasn’t just being a fool, then. You used your Spell on him.”

“And that gambler in Coyote Run,” Mabel added. “The one who bet you his room key an’ lost, even after denyin’ your initial request for one last game.”

Curtis nodded to both situations. “Convenient, sure,” he said taking his seat back at the fire. “But nothin’ extraordinary like some I’ve seen or heard about before.”

“The mystery of it is probably what’s boosting your bounty so much,” Sly guessed. “I hadn’t been told anything about it back at the Ranger Headquarters. Just that you probably had one.”

“Midnight taught me how to use it and I’ve pretty much mastered the technique by now. The cooldown is killer, though. If I try and use the power more than once every eight hours or so, I black out completely and sleep for a whole day at least.”

“I didn’t know Spells had such a toll on their users,” Sly said. “Once every eight hours seems like a little much for such a simple power; the punishment for overuse, too.”

“It’s kinda like a muscle, I guess,” Curtis explained. “That’s how Midnight described it. The more you use it, the harder it gets until you rest. I think some Spells have less of an impact on the user than others; I just happened to get stuck with a pretty cruddy recoil.”

“That’s so cool,” Mabel mumbled, her gaze focused on the fire and Midnight’s flier dangling in her fingers. She had sat back down too and pressed her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly. “I wish I had a Spell.”

Curtis huffed. “You want a 10,000-dime bounty on yer head?”

Mabel grumbled to the fire. The conversation dwindled from there and soon the party turned in for the night. Curtis was the only one with a knapsack, but offered his poncho as a blanket to Mabel. Sly propped himself against a large stone near their camp. For the umpteenth night in a row, Curtis had a dream about Midnight.

Curtis was twenty and had been living on the ranch for about a year; he was still called Arthur Ray at the time. The dream started hazy, and all he could make out was Midnight entering his room in the middle of the night. The man was silhouetted by the darkness, but Arthur could see a something glowing in his fist. He sat by Arthur’s head and squeezed whatever was in his hand. Arthur heard a cracking sound before Midnight began to let glowing dust sprinkle from his hand and onto Arthur’s face. The young man breathed it in slowly as Midnight rubbed his head and told him, “This’ll only take a moment.” Suddenly, Arthur’s drowsiness vanished as he felt a surge of pain sourced from his sinuses. His body recoiled and he arched his back. Midnight held his shoulders down, but Arthur kicked and gasped. He couldn’t breathe and felt like he was going to faint from shock. His concentration was entirely on staying conscious and aware of his surroundings.

Midnight continued comforting him saying, “It’ll be all right, son,” and “Just let it pass.” Time felt slowed but in reality, Arthur hadn’t realized just how much time had passed before the pain subsided. Midnight told him afterward that he was struggling for over an hour—Arthur felt it was both the slowest and fastest hour of his life. The dream faded to a daytime scene of Midnight training Arthur to use his Spell. The two of them were out in the field and Midnight instructed Arthur to use his Spell on him. In the earlier days of training, Midnight didn’t resist. He let Arthur get used to the technique, but later started pushing back. Arthur found out that if someone knew the Spell was in use, they could break free from the charm quite easily. Likewise, it was harder to compel someone who knew the Spell was coming. Midnight pushed Arthur hard. He made the young man use his Spell as frequently as possible, even if it meant Arthur would black out for hours or days at a time.

Midnight would begin training right away again after Arthur awoke from his short comas which would only result in more comas after only a single use, and they would last longer. Arthur got used to it over time, but the training was tough to endure. Eventually, though, it became easier, and he started to master his power. It was then that Midnight gave him his new name, Curtis Conrad, and told him to keep his past a secret from others—the power, too. The dream didn’t give Curtis any sign of where Midnight might have gone or where he could be currently, but he enjoyed revisiting his memories from the ranch. After that, Curtis slept soundly until morning.

Sly was the first to wake in the morning. He took the liberty of preparing everyone’s rations before nudging Mabel awake. He had tried to wake Curtis first, opting to give the young girl more time to sleep, but Curtis refused to get up. Sly sat down by the remains of their fire from the night before and shoveled spoonfuls of beans, dried meat and fruits, and biscuits into his mouth. Mabel dragged her feet along the sandy ground as she made her way to Sly to collect her breakfast. She thanked the Ranger and sat opposite the burnt branches; her head was still fuzzy from the early wake. The two of them were quiet as they ate. Curtis still slept soundly with his back to his new companions.

***

Curtis rolled his knapsack and tied it to the side of his horse’s saddle. Sly stretched and prepared for the long walk to the next town over. Mabel was bouncing excitedly in anticipation of the journey ahead of her. She was just happy to be off the streets of Coyote Run. “How ‘bout Shooter?” Mabel suggested. She had been tossing out names for Curtis’s horse all morning, none of which Curtis took a particular liking to. “Dusk? Crash. Dazzle. Oh, Silver!” Curtis groaned at each one.

“No, no,” Sly added. “It needs to be something fierce! Something to strike real fear in anyone who opposes us. Like…Fury! Or, Shadow! Meteorite!”

Curtis shook his head and pulled some parchment from his pack. He drew a small stick of charcoal from his bag, as well, and laid the sheet on the ground. “Here’s the plan,” Curtis said as he drew a crude map on the sheet of parchment. “If you’re to be travelin’ with me, y’ought to know what’s ahead.” Curtis flipped the parchment around for Mabel and Sly to view it right-side-up. He pointed with the charcoal at the lowest point on the drawing, saying “That’s Sunnyville, where I first ran in to Sly.” He gestured to below the map and added, “Down there’s the Southern Slick where I spent most of the 18 months after leaving Midnight’s ranch. I’d hoped that’s where he’d have escaped to since it’s hardly even considered government territory, but I saw no sign of ‘im.”

“What’s down there?” Mabel asked.

“Only the grimiest, filthiest lot in all the Valley Strip,” Sly answered. “Not even Rangers go that far south. Just not worth the hassle.”

“If we’re lucky,” Curtis said, “we won’t need t’go back there.” He drew an imaginary circle around the main map. “If we can stick here in the Mesa Frontier, that’d be ideal. I’d like to avoid going to the Big City if we don’t have to.”

“But if Midnight isn’t in the Mesa Frontier anymore…” Mabel trailed off.

“That’s my territory,” Sly boasted. “I could guide us through the Big City, no problem. That’s where I want to end up, anyway.”

Curtis nodded. “If you’re serious about what you said last night, Sly,” Curtis said, looking at the Ranger. “Then yer knowledge will come in real handy as we head north. We’ll zigzag across the Valley as we make our way up. Here we are between Coyote Run and Onyxlanding.” Curtis pointed to the lower-middle of the page. “Once we reach Onyxlanding, we’ll continue east toward Proudkeep, then north to Tangate, and back west to Yellowtusk, so on and so forth. Contrary to what you might think, as we get closer to the Big City, in other words, where the Government and Ranger HQs are, the concentration of Outlaws’ll become denser, up to a certain point. Then, there won’t be any Outlaws in or immediately ‘round the Big City—none stupid enough to make their presences known, anyway.”

Sly nodded in agreeance as Mabel listened intently to Curtis’s explanation. Curtis rolled the parchment and handed it to Sly, telling him to be the navigator. He also returned the seven-shot revolvers to the Ranger. He then hoisted Mabel onto his horse’s back before leaping up himself. He turned to Sly who stood next to the metallic steed. “Sorry, Sly, there’s only room for one big and one small passenger. We can find you a horse in Onyxlanding.”

Sly whipped his arm toward Curtis with a big thumbs-up. He smiled and winked at the Outlaw. “Don’t you worry about me, Dawn. First impressions might not tell you this, but I’m quite the athlete! I ran all the way here from Coyote Run, and to there from Sunnyville. I’m an absolute speed demon!”

Sly took off running in the direction of Onyxlanding. Mabel leaned from behind Curtis and mumbled, “That guy’s weird.”

Curtis chuckled. “Yeah, you meet plenty of strange folk on the road.”

“I still don’t entirely trust ‘im.”

“But you trust me?”

Mabel thought. “Good point. I’m keepin’ an eye on both of ya.”

“Hmph, whatever you say.” Curtis spurred his horse which began to canter toward Sly and caught up quickly. The three traveled in relative silence; the sounds of the horse’s heavy steps and Sly’s confident stride were accompanied only by the rhythmic clatter of Curtis’s supply pack and bedroll as they dangled from each side of the saddle shaking with every sway of the machine-like beast’s hips. The sun beat down on the wanderers; Curtis placed his hat upon Mabel’s head when he noticed her shirt dampening from the sweat of her face and neck. Sly’s focus was less on the heat and more on the crudely drawn map Curtis had put him in charge of. Sly knew the Valley Strip fairly well, but the region called the Mesa Frontier was infamously sparsely populated with cities and towns being at least a day apart from one another, if not farther.

The Ranger had spent most of his time in the Valley Strip in and around the Big City, so he’d only navigated the desert—the real desert—for one-off jobs, and he had always had a more detailed map to work with. Still, Sly was managing with what Curtis had given him, and he was sure the three of them would be able to make it to Onyxlanding by night if they kept a steady pace. Sure enough, however, making the trek on foot was no easy task, and after only a couple of hours, Sly needed to rest. “We’ll stop at the next tor,” Curtis said. “We can try to catch some shade before the sun’s too high.” The band continued for another quarter hour or so before a couple of rocky mounds appeared in their view through the wavy reflection on the sand. Sly’s expression lit up and he yelped with joy. He began jogging over to the jagged stone hills; Mabel breathed a sigh of relief. She had grown considerably tired solely from sitting under the sun.

Even with Curtis’s hat covering her face and shoulders, the sun’s rays still cooked her frail, little body. Curtis breathed steadily as he commanded his horse to pick up the pace. A bead of sweat crawled from behind his ear and down his jaw to the point of his chin where it began to dance through his beard. The shining droplet hung from a few hairs for a moment and just as the bonds between water and keratin broke, a thunderous boom echoed across the landscape. The droplet of sweat barely had time to contact the saddle between Curtis’s legs before the Outlaw was forced from his horse’s reigns by the blow of a high caliber bullet to his left shoulder. Mabel shrieked as the horse recoiled from the sudden jolt. Curtis, whose feet were still knocked into the saddle’s stirrups, dangled on the side of the saddle writhing in pain.

The Outlaw groaned as he tried to grab hold of the reigns once more, blood pouring from his sleeve and onto the dry, yellow sand. He commanded Mabel to get down as Sly turned back following the sound of the shot. “Take cover, Sly!” Curtis shouted, then grunted terribly. Curtis couldn’t feel his left arm or hand, but he managed to find the reigns and commanded his horse into an excited gallop. Sly turned back toward the tor and began racing at a full sprint. He tried to glance around the surrounding area to find out where the sound could have come from. Unfortunately, the only place for cover was the rocky hills up ahead, but that was also the only place for a shooter to hide.  Knowing well the possibilities, Sly continued on toward the hills with Curtis and Mabel in tow. Mabel held onto the saddle with one hand while keeping her head low and holding Curtis’s hat to her scalp with her other hand. Curtis used his position off the saddle to cover himself as best he could from another shot.

Somewhere, someone peered at Curtis through a lens. Without a clear shot, the sights zoomed across the sand to Sly. The distant shooter blinked to clear some dust from their eye and fixated their gaze on the Ranger. “Interesting,” they said. “Is that…?” The Outlaw’s thoughts scrambled about as he tried to consider his options. He needed to bandage his wound soon; he could already feel the lightheadedness from blood loss. Whatever had hit him, it hit him hard, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Curtis hadn’t seen anyone approaching from the surrounding land and they were too far out from the tor for anyone to get an accurate shot on him. Sly bared similar thoughts as he arrived at the tor just ahead of Curtis and Mabel. He took a quick survey of the area before finding what seemed to be a sufficient hiding spot—a large outcrop of stone which blocked a view from the rest of the rocks. Curtis’s horse met the Ranger there.

The moment he was behind cover, Curtis unstrapped himself from the saddle and plopped to the ground. Sly rushed to Curtis and helped him lean against the outcropping of stone serving as their shield. Mabel dug through Curtis’s supply bag and found a roll of gauze. She tossed it to Sly who began unraveling the stringy fabric. “Alcohol,” Curtis coughed. Mabel looked confused in her panic.

“Disinfectant,” Sly called. “He probably has a bottle in that bag.” Mabel looked through the satchel and fetched the dark bottle while Sly helped Curtis to remove his tunic. Mabel fumbled off the horse and handed Sly the bottle. He hurriedly unscrewed the cap and poured far too much of the clear liquid onto Curtis’s shoulder. The wound was horrid. Such a large hole for a single gunshot, the origin of which the band still did not know. The alcohol washed away the blood only briefly before more gushed from Curtis’s shoulder.

“What the hell—” Curtis winced, “was that?”

Sly pressed the wound as heavily as he could. Curtis’s breathing was rushed, but controlled. Mabel watched in shock. “Mabel, sit down,” Sly commanded. “Don’t move, okay? We don’t know where the shooter could be hiding.”

“Shooter?” Mabel whimpered, following Sly’s orders.

“There’s only one thing I know of that could do something like this to a man,” Sly thought aloud. “Only one person…” Curtis groaned as Sly continued with the pressure.

“Man, this sucks,” Curtis growled. Sly mended Curtis as Mabel and the horse held their positions. The little shade that was left from the sun’s morning angle had disappeared. The heat was more intense than before, but neither Sly nor Mabel was focused on that anymore. By the time Sly finished wrapping Curtis’s wound, the sun had begun its decline, though the sky was still blue. Sly slumped against the rock next to the then unconscious Outlaw. He shared several chugs of water alongside Mabel, and they trickled a little down Curtis’s throat.

“Sure did take a while to stop the bleeding,” Sly said sounding exhausted, “and he is looking quite pale, but he’ll make it…I think.” Mabel paid no mind to the uncertainty of Sly’s statement. She sat with her knees to her chest serving as support for her head. She rested her chin and watched the horizon. She hadn’t moved for over an hour except to take a drink occasionally. Her mouth slowly opened.

“What was that, Sly? What got Curtis so bad?”

Sly sighed. “I don’t know for certain, but if it’s what—or who I think it is, then we’re in a tight spot. It’d be best to wait for Dawn to wake up before we take any action.”

“So, we just have to wait here an’ hope that whoever it is doesn’t come fer us?”

“They won’t. They’ll wait, too. But we won’t be making it to Onyxlanding tonight.”

Mabel whimpered softly and sunk her head into her lap. This certainly wasn’t what she expected to endure when she begged Curtis to let her tag along; she had never imagined something so horrible. Curtis’s horse huffed and adjusted its footing.

***

Curtis’s breathing was slow and rhythmic as he rested. Sly’s worry became impatience once it seemed Curtis would not succumb to an endless sleep that day. By then, the Ranger was anxious for the Outlaw to awaken so they could devise a plan to stop whoever was hunting Curtis. No, Sly thought. It’s best to assume that whoever shot Dawn is after me, too. We might even consider the girl a target, as well.

Sly looked at Mabel who, at that point, was curled up on her side, still holding her knees close and resting her head on Curtis’s rolled knapsack. Sly turned to the unconscious Curtis and prayed that the Outlaw would regain consciousness before nightfall. The sun had reached the horizon already turning the sky an intense orange to the west and a deep purple to the east. Sly felt confident in his earlier guesses as to who the shooter was, but he began to worry that once night consumed the desert, they might attempt to approach the group. Sly was no martial combatant and he was sure Mabel wouldn’t pose as much of a deterrent, so he hoped that Curtis would be awake and just slippery enough to succeed in an up-close conflict.

During his days at the Ranger Academy, Nathan “Sly” Bowman—though he hadn’t been given a nickname yet—had met a whole slew of unique individuals. Sly, while skilled in many regards, was somewhat mistreated by those around him because he was from outside of the Valley Strip. The areas above the Valley were considered “more proper” and “prissy” by many residing in the Valley. Sly was seen as entitled or pampered, and his attitude certainly hadn’t dissuaded anybody from thinking that. Sly’s early days as a Ranger Candidate were full of trial and error in terms of learning how to act in the Valley Strip. Eventually, however, he came into his own, and although he didn’t come into the name “Sly” until after graduation, Nathan Bowman had become a fine Ranger.

That’s when the real characters started introducing themselves. Those who successfully joined the ranks of professional Rangers were even more extraordinary than the litter Sly attended class with. His fellow alumni ranged enough in height, weight, age, skin tone, skills, and sanity. Some of them had already come into their own and found out their “shtick” as Sly usually put it. Most graduates were given nicknames before leaving the Academy. Some even had years of prior experience through partnerships with established Rangers or amateur work. Sly, of course, was unable to fit in enough to be given a good nickname before graduation, or receive tutelage from a veteran Ranger, but it didn’t take too long for his name to become known in the areas surrounding the Big City. As Sly reminisced about his days as a young Ranger, one name stuck out in his mind: Payton Serrano. Also known as “the Hunter.”

Just then, Curtis winced. The outlaw took a few deep breaths before opening his eyes to the sky spattered with a few early stars. Sly kneeled over him and helped him sit up. Curtis groaned. “My shoulder’s killin’ me,” he said.

“Yep, it’ll definitely ache for a while. Think you can stand yet?”

“Give me a few minutes.” Curtis clutched his wound and winced again. He breathed slowly and tried to get comfortable against the rocks. Mabel sat up and wandered over, relieved to see Curtis doing okay, all things considered. “My memory’s a bit fuzzy,” Curtis said. “What the hell happened earlier?”

“You were shot,” Sly stated. “The shooter’s probably in the tor somewhere. We need to be careful; they’re probably still watching this spot waiting for someone to poke a foot out or something.”

“I’ve never been hit like that before. What was it, a damn trebuchet?”

“The wound was horrible,” Mabel broke in. She looked at Curtis’s shoulder, but seemed to be seeing the memory of the fresh bullet hole. She tried to push it from her mind.

“No, but I have a feeling I know what,” Sly answered. “And who.”

“It’ll be totally dark soon,” Curtis said. “We could slip out after that. Though, with only one horse, that could be pretty tricky.”

“Yeah. I think that’s probably too risky, especially if it’s who I think it is. They’ll be patient and know how to target us in the dark.”

“Is it another Outlaw you could bag?”

“No, a Ranger.”

“Another Ranger, huh? Just great.” Curtis adjusted himself and peeked ever-so-slightly around the rock. When he couldn’t make out any obvious signs of where the shooter could be hiding, he leaned back behind cover. “Think they saw you and know you’re workin’ with me?” Curtis asked.

“Not sure,” Sly replied. “They had plenty of time to aim, but never took a shot at me. It’s possible they assumed you were in my custody after the first shot, but if that was the case, they most likely would’ve come over by now to meet with me.”

“So, who is this guy, do you think?”

“Payton ‘the Hunter’ Serrano. We met after I graduated from the Academy. What you were shot with is certainly a long-ranged rifle modified with a magnifying sight and one-hell-of-a-chamber. Only holds one shot, but doesn’t take more than a few seconds to reload. I’m honestly surprised you were shot at only once, but Payton’s like that I suppose. The real efficient type. You were a more unsteady target after that initial hit.”

“What kind o’ bullets does that thing take?”

“Much bigger ones than a revolver,” Sly joked.

“That’s some gimmick. Never seen anythin’ quite like it. The Hunter, huh? Guess that makes us the prey. What’s a more accurate comparison: eagle to some snakes or shark to some barracudas?”

“I’d say more like an owl to some mice.”

“Come on, Sly, we’re not that defenseless.”

“No, but Payton’s on a totally different level right now. That rifle is far more reliable at a distance than our revolvers, and with the advantage of knowing our location, I don’t see us getting out of this one without injury.”

“Well, I already got my scratch,” Curtis groaned as he tried to stand using the large rock serving as their cover to assist him. “If I can get in close enough to talk to ‘em, I can try using my Spell.”

“Getting close will be the hardest part. That, and actually finding our hunter.”

“We can try and bait another shot from ‘em, like what I did to you in Sunnyville.”

“That could work. Not sure, though. Payton’s one of the most successful Rangers I know of. Not easily fooled.”

“How about my horse? We could use it as cover again, like I did in Coyote Run.”

“Sorry, Dawn, but I think those bullets would tear straight through that metal belly of hers—I mean its.”

“Damn! Well, what about you, mister Ranger? Don’t you know more about this Payton than I do? What are your suggestions?”

Sly pinched his chin and thought hard. Mabel walked to Curtis and gave him a gentle hug.

“Glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

“Uh, yeah, I’m glad, too,” he replied, somewhat confused by the girl’s affection. After a minute, Sly raised a finger. Mabel helped Curtis stand away from the large rock and supported him while he took small steps. Curtis still felt a bit light-headed, but was comfortable moving slowly.

“I might have a plan,” Sly said. “It’ll be incredibly risky, but it’s all I can think of in this situation.” Curtis and Mabel listened intently. “Payton may be skilled and smart, but she can’t do the impossible.”

“She?” Curtis inquired quietly.

Sly continued. “We can try to bait her attention, except the bait will actually be us; Curtis and myself, specifically. Meanwhile Mabel can watch for where the shot comes from and try to make her way over to the origin. There, she could distract Payton to allow us to converge and take her down.”

Curtis’s expression was concentrated, but a little unsure. Mabel’s eyes widened. Her tongue fumbled around in her mouth as she tried to piece together a sentence. “Y-you want me to do what?” she exclaimed.

“That sounds a bit too risky, Sly,” Curtis pitched in. “I mean, she’s just a kid. Even if she isn’t blown to bits on her way over, what could she do once she’s one-on-one with Payton?”

“I know it’s insane, but it’s all I’ve got,” Sly explained. “We don’t have to do it, but I don’t see another way. I doubt you or I could sneak over without being noticed. Mabel’s smaller and could use your poncho to blend in with the rocks in the dark.”

Curtis pondered the idea, then shrugged. He looked at Mabel who was still visibly distraught at the idea. “Kid, listen,” Curtis said as softly as he could. “You knew things would be dangerous if you came with me.”

“Yeah, but—how—I never—this is…”

“Hey, I know it’s scary, but we need you right now. I’ll be frank with you: there’s a good chance we might all die tonight. If things go south and Sly and I are taken down, then you take my horse and get the hell out o’ here. I doubt the shooter cares much for your head. That’s also why if she sees you sneaking through the rocks, she probably won’t worry too much about it. So, do you think you can do this?” Mabel swallowed and looked Curtis in his eyes. They were harder to see as the sun fell below the horizon, but she felt a warmth in them. Curtis didn’t act particularly fatherly or anything, but Mabel felt safe around him. She nodded. Curtis turned to Sly. “Okay,” he said. “What do we do, Sly?”

***

The night was still warm from the sun, but a slight breeze gave Payton goose bumps on her sleeveless arms. She shivered, but never looked away from the outcropping of rock serving as Curtis and the gang’s cover. She watched patiently as she had all day into the night. In her early days as a Ranger, she would have tired herself out straining her eyes this long, but now she could go hours and hours and hours without moving a muscle. Payton’s wide hat, which laid on the ground next to her, fluttered almost imperceptibly when the breeze flowed through the frame of stone she had nestled herself into. The arching rocks above her provided constant shading from the sun throughout the day and kept any part of her rifle from glaring too much. Ideally, the moon would be out to provide a little light to help Payton see, but she was used to total darkness, too. She could make it work.

She took a deep breath reminding herself that she had to breathe and blink every once-in-a-while. As she caught up on her normally automatic functions, she caught sight of some movement in the dark near the jutting rocks. She quickly took aim at whatever was creeping through the dark. A small figure wandered out and began stumbling along the jagged hills to the east. Payton remembered seeing someone else on the horse with the Outlaw, but she wasn’t sure who it was. A little girl, maybe? she had thought. That’s who must have been trying to flee then. Payton thought for a moment before deciding not to shoot. She didn’t want to waste any ammunition and didn’t care about the girl. She wanted Curtis “Dawn” Conrad, and possibly the man with him.

She had thought about it for the rest of the day and determined that the other man in the group was Nathan “Sly” Bowman, another Ranger she’d met a couple years after graduating from the Ranger Academy. He was less experienced than she was at the time, and quite foolish. Judging by the fact that he seemed to be traveling with an Outlaw now, Payton assumed the foolishness never wore off.

Curtis watched Mabel as she took her first few steps out from protection. He glanced at Sly and whispered so Mabel couldn’t hear.

“If this doesn’t work, that girl’s death is on your hands.”

Sly shifted uneasily on his feet. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll also be dead, so I’m really hoping it does.” Mabel disappeared into the dark behind other jagged formations. Curtis’s dark poncho certainly helped the girl blend in to her surroundings. No shot from Payton. Curtis and Sly shared a sigh of relief. Sly nodded at Curtis. Curtis breathed steadily as Sly helped him place a bundle of rags from Curtis’s supply bag on top of the Outlaw’s head. They used a few to raise the shoulders of his tunic, as well, to make it appear as though Curtis’s head was higher than it really was. The two of them prayed that Payton wouldn’t go for another shot at his shoulder—which was really his head then—and Curtis took his first step out from protection. Curtis grabbed his horse’s reigns and used the steed to cover most of his body, but left his “head” exposed above the horse’s shoulders.

Payton held her breath as soon as she saw the Outlaw guiding his horse from cover. She guessed by the silhouette that her target was, in fact, Curtis Conrad and not Nathan Bowman. She didn’t let Curtis make it more than a few yards from his hiding spot before taking the shot. A loud boom was immediately followed by an incredible impact atop Curtis’s shoulders. Pain ripped through Curtis’s left shoulder again as he was knocked to the ground behind his horse. Payton had hit the Outlaw’s fake head dead center, even in the dark. Curtis’s horse flinched slightly but held its position in front of Curtis blocking his “corpse” from Payton’s view. Payton found the horse’s response queer but ignored it for the time being. She couldn’t give up her position yet. She still had to worry about Nathan Bowman. She had thought of simply introducing herself after noticing another Ranger with her target, but she worried that the two could be working together for some reason, so she played it safe. Even the girl that was with them earlier could be a potential threat, but Payton still wasn’t too worried about her.

Payton figured she was probably safe from Sly’s gunfire at this range, but if she could take him out without her fellow Ranger finding out her location, that would be ideal. Sly, who was lying on the ground on the other side of the protruding rocks to watch for where the shot came from, then turned back toward Curtis. “Dawn,” he whispered loudly. “Are you okay?” Curtis groaned and lifted a thumb on his hand which rested on the ground, out of Payton’s sight. Sly exhaled gratefully. The Ranger thought to himself. I still couldn’t tell exactly where the shot came from, but judging by how Curtis fell just now, and the angle that he had fallen off his saddle earlier, Payton must be somewhere on that small ridge.

Sly focused on a rugged peak stretching between the highest point of the tor and a large boulder resting high on the hill. She’s probably tucked away in a little hidey hole or something; somewhere real hard to see from here, I bet. I just hope Mabel can find her and give us a sign somehow. Was one shot enough? Sly whispered to Curtis again. “You just stay there, Dawn. Don’t move, okay? Let’s let her think she got you.” Curtis erected his thumb again. Meanwhile, Mabel carefully walked up the tor. As soon as she heard the gunshot, she looked down to see Curtis fall. She had thought about rushing back to make sure the men were okay, but she knew she couldn’t yet. She told herself it was all part of the plan. She had to find the shooter and signal to Sly. But how? She wasn’t sure for either.

Mabel looked up the rocky slopes. I can get higher, she thought. That’ll help me spot her. Mabel began climbing the rocks, careful not to make herself obvious amongst the sharp edges of the ridge. She guessed Payton was toward the center of the hill with how her party’s earlier cover seemed to work completely, and she hadn’t run into anyone on her excursion around the side of the tor. Mabel reached high on the rocks and peered down. She strained her eyes to see clearer in the dark, but with no moon, it was incredibly hard for her to make out more than basic shapes. She thought, however, that she could see an outstretched body resting under a thick arch of stone. Yes, Mabel thought, something is definitely jutting out from the rocks there. The rifle’s barrel?

Mabel made her way down from her vantage point and quickly, but as quietly as she could, scrambled toward the archway. Sly and Curtis waited patiently, and Payton watched the horse and hiding place. Mabel approached the arch from the direction opposite where she started at the bottom of the hill. Hopefully, Payton would still be facing Mabel’s band, so Mabel could potentially sneak up on her. What are you thinking, Mabel? The young girl thought. There’s no way you’ll get close to a Ranger without them noticing. Oh, what do I do? She’ll kill me for sure as soon as she realizes I’m here. Mabel peeked very slowly around the rocks she was hiding behind. She caught sight of Payton’s legs and waist before jolting back behind cover. It didn’t seem like Payton knew she was there yet; or maybe she just didn’t see Mabel as enough of a threat to look away from her targets. Mabel thought. She looked around her seeing rocks, sand…that was it.

She could do this, she thought. She picked up a sizeable rock off the ground—small enough to chuck with one hand, but large enough to be seen and heard as it tumbled down the hill. She stepped lightly under the archway. Payton didn’t move. Mabel didn’t move closer to Payton, but raised her arm high above her head. Then, an idea occurred to her. Mabel could throw the rock atPayton, hit her head. Maybe that would be enough. The thought terrified her. Could she really? She liked the swiftness of resolution with that plan, but what if it didn’t work? Payton would kill her for sure. But maybe Curtis and Sly could get away. Would they save her? Does she mean that much to them? They did send her on her own knowing well she could die. No, Mabel thought. Stop thinking so much. Just do it. Just throw the rock! Mabel took a deep breath and flung her arm.

She released her grip on the stone. It flew far out from the arch and tumbled down the rocky hillside. Sly saw the rock fly from under the arch and watched it roll. That was definitely thrown, Sly thought. That had to be Mabel. Oh, yes! Did you really find Payton? You’re an amazing little girl, aren’t you? But wait, now Payton will—. Payton flipped around as soon as she saw the rock fly overhead. She drew a small pistol from her belt and aimed it where Mabel stood when she threw the rock. Nobody was there now. Payton’s eyes darted left and right in the darkness.

The girl, she thought. She couldn’t ignore Mabel’s presence any longer; she was too close. I’d have seen Bowman if he tried to sneak up here. If he crawled, he couldn’t have made it here this quickly. It has to be that girl. Payton stood and glanced back at the rocks serving as Sly’s cover. She didn’t see any movement. She faced under the arch again and slowly stepped forward. “I know it’s you, little girl,” she spoke to the wind. “Come on out and I won’t hurt ya. Those men you’re travelin’ with, they’re bad people. I’ll take you to Onyxlanding and someone there’ll take care o’ ya.” Mabel snuck around the rocks. Payton turned her hips at the slightest sound, but couldn’t make out the small figure in the darker shadow of the archway. She knew Mabel was there, though, and closing in. Payton turned around and lifted her gun toward a bend in the rocks.

The girl’s eyes peeked around but slinked back behind cover when Payton turned. Payton lowered her pistol slightly and held out a hand. “I really don’t wanna hurt ya,” she said in a calm, comforting voice. “Just come out here with yer hands visible, then we can head into town tomorrow morning. I got enough supplies fer us both.” Mabel emerged from the extra dark shadows with her hands raised in fists. Payton lowered her gun to her side and stepped toward Mabel who then swiftly flicked her hands forward releasing sand she’d been hiding in her fists. Payton recoiled and rubbed her eyes, yelling obscenities. When she could squint and see Mabel, the girl stood with a revolver aimed at the Ranger. Payton started to raise her gun, as well, but stopped when Mabel jerked hers forward in warning. Payton lowered her gun again and watched Mabel carefully. The girl was shaking, just slightly. Mabel had never shot anyone before, never stabbed anyone. The worst she’d ever done was use her fists, and maybe some teeth once or twice.

Curtis’s poncho cloaked most of Mabel’s body, but her frightened expression made it obvious that her little arms which protruded from the cloak were shaking out of fear. Still, if she thought Payton was going to hurt her, she might just be twitchy enough to pull the trigger. Payton saw Mabel’s finger hovering over it. “You poor thing,” Payton said softly. “Put the gun down, honey. I know you’re scared. I won’t hurt you if you just calm down. Let’s work this out.”

“You shot first,” Mabel said shakily.

Payton kept her gaze on Mabel’s eyes which twitched all around. “I’m doin’ my job. The man I shot, is he yer friend? Do you know he’s a wanted criminal? He’s done a lotta bad things, you know.”

“I don’t care. He’s a good man.”

“Good men don’t do bad things.”

“They do if it means they’ll survive. I lived on the streets fer years. You wouldn’t blame me for lyin’ and stealin’ if it meant I had food to eat every night, would ya?”

Payton gave a slight smile. “No, I wouldn’t. But lyin’ and stealin’ some food don’t compare to killin’ innocent men.”

“No… Curtis is a good man. He took me off the streets just ‘cause I asked him to.”

“That’s sweet, darlin’, but the bounty he’s earned over the past year-and-a-half tells me another story.”

Mabel continued pointing the gun at Payton, her hand shaking more then. Payton tried to calm her with a gentle expression. “Don’t be stupid, girl. Neither of us wants to get hurt. Just put. The gun. Down.”

“Do as she says, Mabel,” Sly said with a click of the hammer on one of his revolvers. He approached from behind Payton and planted the barrel of his gun between Payton’s shoulder blades. Mabel knelt on her knees and let the revolver she’d borrowed from Curtis drop on the rocky ground. “Why don’t you do the same?” Sly suggested to his fellow Ranger. He kept his revolver aimed at Payton as she, too, knelt and tossed her gun a few feet away. She then placed her hands behind her head with her elbows out and stood again. “Good,” Sly said as he yanked a pair of metal cuffs off Payton’s belt. He grabbed her wrists and locked the cuffs tightly around them with a triumphant smirk. “Now, down on your knees. You’re not—” Sly was cut off by a sudden tug from Payton to break herself free of Sly’s grip. She swiftly turned and kicked Sly’s gun from his hand, and with another speedy kick, knocked Sly off balance causing him to fall onto the hard ground.

She scooped her small pistol off the ground and cocked it as she took aim on Sly. Her grip was awkward, though, with her hands still behind her back. Sly reached for his other revolver, but before either of them could get a shot off, Payton grunted and fell to the ground, out cold. Mabel stood over Payton’s limp body while holding a large rock and breathing heavily. Sly wore a shocked expression.

After a moment, he sighed, “Nicely done, kid.”

“Oh my—is she dead?” Mabel asked hesitantly.

Sly stood and rested a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. He patted the girl’s back. “No, but you knocked her out good. She won’t be up again until morning, that’s for sure. And she won’t have the key for those cuffs.” Sly grinned and tossed the key among the rocky hillside. With a few clings, the key disappeared into the darkness. Mabel and Sly made their way back down the tor and met Curtis at the base of the hill again. Curtis sat with his back against the large rock the group used for cover and stood when he saw his companions approaching.

“It didn’t feel like anyone was starin’ at me anymore,” Curtis said, “so I moved back over here.”

“We took care of her,” Sly said proudly.

“That was horrendously terrifying,” Mabel muttered.

“Yeah,” Curtis chuckled. “I sure would’ve missed yer mature vocab if somethin’ happened to us.” Mabel kept her eyes low. Curtis sighed and moved slowly toward her, resting an arm around her shoulders once he reached her, partially for support since his head was still fuzzy. “I’m glad you’re alright, kid.”

“We probably shouldn’t rest here,” Sly pointed out. “I locked Payton in some cuffs, but I’d still like to get some distance on her before settling down for the evening.”

Curtis struggled onto his horse’s saddle and Sly lifted Mabel up. The three made their way away from the tor still in the direction of Onyxlanding. Once the rocky hills were no longer in sight, they set up camp. They didn’t bother with a fire; they were all exhausted and ready to sleep, and they didn’t have enough rations to go around for dinner. Plus, they didn’t want to attract anymore unwanted attention in the open desert. The group couldn’t find anywhere that would provide shade from the morning sun, but luckily for them, the sky was overcast by the time they awoke. It was clear that a storm was headed toward the next town right behind them.

Payton was woken up in the morning by a few drops of rain tapping against her face. She peered up at the darkening sky and pondered the previous night’s events. She had a terrible headache. The Ranger snickered to herself as the rain began to fall more heavily. Her light hair dampened and fell over her face. Her sleeveless arms were textured with goose bumps.

“Nathan ‘Sly’ Bowman: traveling with Outlaw Curtis ‘Dawn’ Conrad. Very interesting.”

 “Nathan ‘Sly’ Bowman: traveling with Outlaw Curtis ‘Dawn’ Conrad. Very interesting.” The cozy room was lit only by a gently crackling flame nestled snuggly in the fireplace embedded in the wall. A chair faced away from the fire and cast a shadow on the occupant. Her legs were crossed, and she licked her fingers after just having plopped a small, round candy into her mouth; her glossed lips pursed as she rolled the candy around in her mouth with her tongue and it clacked against her teeth. The woman seemed to be staring at nothing, but her eyes, glazed with a slight rosy tint, were focused elsewhere. Seven of her ten fingers were wrapped with silvery bands; only her ring fingers and right thumb wore no ring.

Several pendants dangled from her neck, a variety of bracelets jingled on both wrists, and even her ankles were adorned with plain jewelry. Each of her ears were pierced with flashy gem studs, but her left ear was crowded with generic loops and rods. The ring on her right pointer finger hugged the digit with warmth. Similarly, Payton’s right pointer finger, fitted with a similar ring, felt warm. The Ranger walked through the desert in the same direction as her targets from the night before: toward Onyxlanding. Rain poured from the heavy clouds above—a rather rare sight in the Valley Strip, especially in the summer. Nonetheless, Payton strode dragging her soaking boots through the damp sand.

“You’re absolutely sure?” the woman in the cozy room asked. She spoke in a half-whisper and with an accent like Sly’s—no drawl to be heard. Somehow, from who-knows-how far, Payton heard her.

“Definitely,” Payton confirmed. “Couldn’t mistake ‘im once ‘e got up close.”

The decorated woman licked her lips and moaned softly before speaking. “Now that’s some exciting news,” she said in her half-whisper tone. “Thank you, darling. Will you be trailing them to Onyxlanding?”

“Yes, Miss. The tracks’re gettin’ smeared from the rain, but I know the way.”

“Good. I would like you to oversee an experiment I’ve set up there. Don’t mettle with the Outlaw and his party in town, just keep watch.”

“Yes, Miss. What am I t’be watchin’ out for?”

“I’ve sent someone over there to test out something the government’s tasked me with working on. Also, I’m interested in knowing what Dawn’s Spell is, if he really has one like the big wigs suspect. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes, Miss. I’ll be there by midday.”

“Good. And, Payton? Don’t worry about anyone else interfering with your targets. I’ll handle everything. You be good now.”

“Yes, Miss. Thank you.”

The decorated woman stood from her chair and took swaying steps to a mirror on the wall to the left of the chair. Her left side glowed sporadically with the flickering of the fire. She took a breath and clutched one of the pendants around her neck before closing her eyes and lowering her head. “My sweet, sweet Moon,” she whispered to herself. “How much longer?”

***

Rain: rarely did it ever do more than drizzle in the Valley Strip, much less drench the landscape with torrential downpour. Curtis and Sly looked as though they had just taken a swim in the nonexistent lakes of the desert, their boots sloshing with every step. Despite wearing Curtis’s poncho, Mabel wasn’t spared much, her dark hair falling in clumped locks; her shoulders were tired from carrying the fabric which was then heavy with water. The party meandered into town from the west unhindered, but also unwelcomed. Onyxlanding was an old mining town established early in the Valley Strip’s modern history. It supplied gold and precious gemstones to the government for many decades being the region’s largest known gold reserve.

Eventually, only about half-a-decade ago or so, the mines dried up and left hundreds without a job. The town, however, had grown to such a size that it couldn’t just be abandoned; thankfully, that also meant there were plenty more jobs to go around, so it was rare to see ex-miners forced to leave in search of opportunity. The government had even sponsored some of the best miners to go work in other mines around the Valley Strip, but they couldn’t take everyone. Curtis and Sly were each fairly familiar with Onyxlanding knowing it to be a thriving population center even after the mines dried up, specializing in other large businesses such as jewelry and banking. But that afternoon, the normally busy streets were relatively empty thanks to the terrible storm moving slowly overhead. The party saw that as the perfect opportunity to walk into town without arousing suspicion.

Surely there would be a number of people who would recognize either Curtis or Sly, if not both, and while the rain would help cover their identities, they made a plan just in case. Curtis took his poncho back from Mabel, somewhat to her disliking, and led his companions to a side street. The three gathered under a small awning where a short wooden table was situated. Curtis pulled his coin purse from one of the bags on his horse’s saddle and withdrew all the money he had: three silver coins, two dimes, and eight pennies. “Let’s pool our funds,” Curtis said. “Hopefully we have enough for some food, new clothes, and maybe a few other things if we’re lucky.” Mabel bored her hand into her pocket and felt around as if trying to gather a handful to contribute, but only retrieved a single coin. She frowned a bit at the sight of her lackluster funds.

“I just have the dime you gave me in Coyote Run,” she sighed. Curtis nodded and added it to the pile, then turned to Sly who rattled his own coin purse. Confidently, he loosened the purse’s mouth and dumped the contents onto the table. Twenty-seven silver coins fell onto the small pile with loud clinks!along with nine more dimes. Mabel’s jaw slowly fell, pulling her lips from one another as she looked up at the Ranger. Curtis blinked a few times before also looking at Sly who wore a proud expression on his face.

“What the hell, Sly,” Curtis said. “You just carry that one you?”

“Well, the bank wasn’t very large in Sunnyville,” Sly explained, “So, I just kept a bunch of cash on me for a while, and I didn’t want to stick around in Coyote Run too long after our fight, so I never deposited any.”

“Okay, that’s great,” Curtis said, shaking his head. “This oughta get us pretty far.”

“I have a lot more in the bank, too,” Sly said, almost as if to gloat. “I can go withdraw even more if we want.”

“No, that’s fine,” Curtis blurted, seemingly annoyed at that point. “Listen, it’s great knowin’ that we have such reserves,” then slightly under his breath “even if we only just now found out,” and then again in a normal speaking tone, “but we shouldn’t keep so much on our persons ‘long as we have access to a bank account.” Curtis quickly counted the funds—30 silver, 12 dimes, and eight pennies—and split the pile evenly in half. He pushed one half toward Sly and took the other half for himself. “Let’s split this an’ take separate paths through town for now,” Curtis suggested. “I’ll go buy us some rations fer the road, restock the supplies in my bags, and I need new drapes for my horse.”

He pressed his pointer finger onto the table near the money he set aside for his companions. “Sly, I trust you t’ handle ammunition since I should probably try to avoid gun shops from here on out, as well as clothes and lodgin’. I’m tired as hell and just wanna sleep in a real bed at least once this week. Maybe get two rooms so we aren’t so obviously travelin’ together.” Sly nodded the entire time during Curtis’s explanation and brushed the coins into his coin purse with his hand. “Also,” Curtis added. “Take Mabel with ya.” Mabel eyes widened and she looked at Curtis with a pleading expression.

“But, Curtis,” she whimpered.

“It’ll be safer fer ya that way,” Curtis replied. “Good?” he asked toward Sly.

Sly raised a fist with his thumb up and winked at the Outlaw. “Don’t you worry, Dawn. I’ll take good care of her!” Sly put an arm over Mabel’s shoulders and pulled her close. The girl’s face displayed her discomfort. “We’ll have a great time,” Sly said with a smile to the urchin. Curtis gave Mabel a look that said ‘Please just do as I say.’ Mabel sighed and saw how tired the Outlaw was. She was tired, too.

“Okay,” the girl exhaled.

Curtis nodded and stepped away from the table and back into the rain. He adjusted his hat so the rainwater wasn’t cascading in front of his face so much and grabbed hold of his horse’s reigns. “I’ll find ya once I’m done shoppin’,” Curtis yelled over the rain, “and we’ll figure out a proper meal for us tonight.” The Outlaw turned and began down the street in the opposite direction of the main road. Mabel, then holding Sly’s hand as though she were a toddler, shouted at Curtis through the storm.

“Don’t go spendin’ any on gambling’!”

Curtis grinned under his hat and thought, No need fer that when I’ve got so much to work with. He was still slightly annoyed that Sly casually provided so much money but was grateful.

***

“Let’s get out of the rain for a bit,” Sly said leading Mabel into a small office off the main road. The bell above the door rang as the Ranger walked in with Mabel in tow. The building was short, nestled between a crowded saloon and a larger theater. The theater wasn’t the same as the fancy-shmancy kind found in the Big City; those were decorated with flashing lights and displayed the finest in moving-picture technology. The one in Onyxlanding simply hosted live plays. The office Sly took Mabel to was a small, formal building for Rangers and officers alike. It wasn’t a police station, but a government law enforcement office primarily used to formally claim bounties and receive updated bounty information such as changes to bounty amounts, recent sightings of Outlaws with bounties, and specific assignments for Rangers when needed.

It was the type of office responsible for printing official wanted posters, as well. The office made Mabel uncomfortable, probably because of her usual bad experience with law enforcement she thought. Sly seemed comfortable and confident striding into the building, however, so Mabel clung to his back and didn’t let her eyes wander too much. The office may have been slightly busier than usual due to the rain, but there were still only about six or seven people inside, including the two desk workers. Sly approached the desk, smiled and nodded to the closer worker, and retrieved a bounty pamphlet from a stack on the corner of the desk. Bounty pamphlets were free for anyone to take and contained a straight-forward list of names with aliases and corresponding bounties.

Sly led Mabel over to a small table and laid the packet of papers flat for both of them to read. The pamphlet was designed primarily for individuals with prior knowledge about Outlaws and provided no pictures—just names and bounty amounts. Mabel noticed that the first page was marked special from the other papers with names and bounties printed in red ink rather than black, and a stamp of a bird at the top of the page. She asked Sly the meaning of the differences. “This first page is dedicated to what are called Mavericks,” Sly explained. “That is, Outlaws who have bounties equal to and or greater than 100 gold. Most of them have Spells, too, but not all of them.” Mabel skimmed the list. Midnight was listed, of course, at 500 gold and with no other name mentioned.

She counted briefly about twenty-or-so names on the first list. Midnight was only more or less in the middle, maybe a little more toward the top. She glanced at some of the other names, as well, noting ones such as Abraham Cannon a.k.a. “the Twin,”, Lester Langely, William Bon—wait. She glanced back up the page: Lester Langley. The name sent shivers down her spine and filled her with grief and anger. Dark images flashed in her mind, the sounds of begging and crying, hissing laughter and crows cawing. She closed her eyes and tried to shake the imagery and sounds from her mind, only succeeding when Sly touched her shoulder and asked if she was okay. Mabel’s eyes shot open, and she abruptly looked up at the Ranger. Sly looked at her with worry painted all over his face. Mabel realized that her breathing was rushed, panting, and she tried to calm down.

“Are you feeling ill?” Sly asked. Mabel took deep breaths and wiped sweat from her forehead. She turned back to the pamphlet, to the name: Lester Langley.

“I’m okay,” she said between her slowed breaths. Sly watched the girl for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the bounty pamphlet. Mable pointed to another name further down the page. The name read William Bonney a.k.a. ‘Billy the Kid.’ “Billy the Kid exists?” Mabel inquired.

“Oh, yeah,” Sly answered, still a little concerned for Mabel.

“I’ve heard stories about ‘im, but I always thought they were just fiction. Somethin’ to scare little chil’rens into behavin’ lest Billy the Kid come an’ snatch ‘em up.”

Sly chuckled at the idea of such a story, and confessed that he had heard similar tales at the Ranger Academy. “There’s some truth to them, I suppose,” the Ranger confessed. “But he’s just a regular ol’ Outlaw like everyone else. Well, as regular as they can be, especially as a Maverick.”

“So, what’s the bird mean?” Mabel questioned, pointing to the stamp at the top of the page.

“That’s the Sign of the Albatross,” Sly said. “It’s just the symbol associated with Mavericks, inspired by the first ever Maverick, Max “the Albatross” Dalton. He had a tattoo just like that.”

“I don’t see ‘im on this list.”

“That’s because he’s not around anymore. Gunned down maybe fifty-or-so years ago in a catastrophic shootout between he and a dozen officers. My parents were still children at the time, and, of course, I wasn’t even a concept yet. Long time ago.” Mabel nodded while continuing to eye the list. She drew her gaze up to the top of the list, reading the first name and bounty. Her eyes glazed over with astonishment at seeing the number displayed on the right side of the page: 925 gold. She pointed a frail finger at the number and looked up at Sly, who chuckled in response. “You’re obsessed with the money aspect of it, aren’t you?” the Ranger joked.

“Sorry, I’ve never really had much of it m’self.”

“It’s understandable. Plus, that’s certainly no number to gawk at. This guy’s getting pretty close to 1,000,000 dimes. I wonder if they’ll make a new name for Outlaws with bounties that high. Although, this guy will probably be the only one up there for a while, since the next highest isn’t even very close.”

“I can’t even imagine that many coins. Makes m’head hurt.” Mabel rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“These lists are pretty long,” Sly said flipping to the last page. “They go all the way down, the lowest bounty listed being five als.”

“What’s an al?” Mabel asked.

“It’s short for alloy coin. It’s the unit between silver and gold.”

“Oh. I think I’ve heard o’ those.”

“You’re familiar with dimes. You could call that the base line; everybody uses dimes. And you know that one dime is worth ten pennies. Go the opposite way and you’ll get one silver for ten dimes. It all works the same. You can guess, then, that ten silver is one al, and ten als is one gold. Of course, that means one gold is 1,000 dimes, which isn’t the kind of money used by the public. I’d be surprised to even see many people carrying als in their pockets.”

“I’ve never been good at numbers,” Mabel groaned keeping her face covered with her hands.

“Stick with your big words, then,” Sly teased. “Just know that 900 gold is some serious dough even for someone with my background.”

“Didn’t you say that Midnight had the highest bounty you’d seen?”

“Yeah, he did, until now.”

“How didn’t you know about these other really high ones?”

“Mavericks are kind of a special case. I knew Midnight’s bounty, but that was it. Outlaws with bounties that high are way out of the league of even seasoned Rangers such as me. It takes a special kind of Ranger to go after a Maverick, so most of us don’t talk about them much, even in passing.” Sly flipped back through the pages before rolling the pamphlet and shoving it into his pocket. “Sunnyville didn’t have an office like this, so I couldn’t stay up to date on bounties too much aside from the occasional delivery of individual wanted posters which never included Mavericks.” Sly and Mabel walked to a window at the front of the building and peered out into the misty street. The rain looked to have let up only slightly, but that was hopefully a sign of an end to the storm.

The pair burst from the office doors and ran down the side of the road trying to stay as covered as they could under awnings and overhangs. They passed the biggest and most significant buildings which were all situated along the main road: a library, a bakery and sweet shop, a general store, a bank, and—. “Aha!” Sly exclaimed. “Let’s go in here.” Mabel was pulled into a warm store advertising the latest styles and trends in fashion. Shirts, pants, blouses, tunics, ponchos, hats, shoes, belts, boots, dresses, bedtime attire, and more were all displayed wonderfully throughout the store. Mabel had seen clothing stores before but was never particularly drawn to them. Her drab rags-for-clothes always helped her with begging to strangers, but since she no longer needed to beg on the streets…

“I don’t think I need many new things,” Sly said. “My clothes could use a wash, but other than that, I think we should focus on you.”

“Oh, okay,” Mabel mumbled. She rarely ever had the luxury of choice before, and now, with so many options, she wasn’t sure what to feel. What did she want?

***

Curtis collected his change and thanked the cashier for his help. He walked outside and packed the rations he’d purchased into one of the sacks on his horse’s saddle. He had emptied out the old mess kit, tinderbox, and even trashed his dirty knapsack replacing everything and buying extras for his companions and reorganized it all on the sides of the saddle. He was always appreciative of the fact that his metallic steed never had to worry about getting fatigued from carrying so much, not that Curtis’s supplies were very heavy. But certainly, a normal animal would grow tired after a full day of travel. Curtis’s horse, however, was always completely refreshed. That reminded him, though, that he needed to find a horse for Sly. Mabel could continue riding with himself, or Sly if she chose. He chuckled. She would never choose that.

Curtis made sure the packs were tightly bound to the saddle’s sides and mounted himself atop the silvery beast. His shoulder spiked with pain. It would take a while for last night’s injury to heal. He stopped at a fabric shop in the marketplace to purchase new drapes for his own, then found a stable selling horses. Curtis counted his remaining funds and sighed. “I don’t suppose you take I.O.U.s?” Curtis asked in a desperate tone. The stable tender shook his head with his large, hairy arms crossed. His bald head and bushy mustache told the Outlaw that, despite being finely dressed in a buttoned shirt and overalls, this man was not to be trifled with. Tryna steal one would certainly cause a scene, Curtis thought. Not what I need right now. Curtis sighed and turned to exit the shack which was out front of the actual stables.

He grabbed the reigns of his own steed and turned back to see the selection of horses for sale. A fine display, indeed, presenting stallions, geldings, mares, even colts for sale. Curtis thought about how Sly had mentioned having more money in the bank, so certainly they could return and choose the perfect mount for the Ranger. Curtis began making his way back toward the main road through town to find Sly and Mabel.

***

Mabel stepped out from her changing room in a light-colored, buttoned blouse with dark pants, a fresh pair of riding boots, and a black gunfighter hat. She stood straight and looked herself up-and-down in a full-body mirror. She couldn’t help but feel giddy at her new attire; she had never been able to afford such nice, clean clothing, and the refreshed sight of herself made her blush. “Aren’t you just a pretty little thing,” Sly commented. Mabel nodded and said nothing. “Just wait until we can wash up at an inn; you’ll look even better.” Sly examined himself in the mirror. While waiting for Mabel, he’d picked out a new pair of boots and a clean white poncho with blue trim and décor. His old shirt and pants were still in good condition but needed a wash.

The duo picked out a new, dark poncho for Curtis, as well, along with new boots, a tunic, and a chocolate-colored rancher hat. Sly asked the cashier to fit the clothes into double-layered bags saying, “We don’t want these to get soaked before we even get to wear them out.” Mabel walked in front as the two exited the clothes shop and back into the rain which, while lighter than before, was still a considerable shower. Sly counted the money remaining in their half of the funds. “We should stop by the bank,” he said. “We’re almost out of coins and Curtis probably spent most of his, too.”

“So, how much money do ya really have, Sly?” Mabel questioned.

“Well, I come from a rich family, and I have access to one of their accounts. I don’t remember how much is actually in it, but I’m the only one who uses it regularly. Most of my family’s wealth comes from property, though, not actual cash.”

“Oh, got it. I’ve never had much property, either.”

Sly frowned a bit at that. He rested a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. She looked back at him. “As long as you’re with us, you’ll always have enough for your needs.” Sly grabbed her hand and walked in front of her dragging her behind. “Now, let’s go get some spending money, and maybe a treat for you, too!” The bank was a large building of silvery stone. Large windows with tinted glass contrasted the light façade and hefty double doors made the entrance grand. Inside, the floor was a clean tile, and the tellers’ booths were of similar marbled design. Mabel had never seen such a fancy building. Sly approached the nearest available teller and requested a withdrawal.

“Sure thing,” the teller said. “Just fill out this slip and I’ll get right on that.”

Sly took the pen handed by the teller and signed his signature on the paper after specifying the amount he wanted to withdraw, along with his account number. He thought for a moment, then decided that 15 more silver would be sufficient for the time being. The teller took the paper and smiled at the Ranger before retreating behind a door at the back of his booth. Sly looked around the bank while he waited. It was quiet inside—not many customers. Mabel let her eyes wander to the walls decorated with painted portraits and expensive hangings. She gazed up at the high ceiling which was darkened with the rain lessening the sunlight normally allowed in by the large windows on the sides of the building. Sly watched patrons enter and exit at their own leisure seemingly in no rush. He thought the slow business could be due to most townsfolk being busy with work in the middle of the day.

Despite losing its main business, Onyxlanding was still a well populated town and surely bustled in the evenings and on weekends. Of course, the rain didn’t help, either. The teller returned after a few minutes and handed Sly a small sack which rattled when Sly picked it up. “Is there anything else I can do for you this afternoon?” the teller asked. Sly smiled and shook his head. On the other side of the building at the teller’s booth nearest the other wall, a cloaked man raised his right arm to reveal a shining, metal hand at the end of a silver arm. The joints of the man’s fingers clicked as he balled his hand into a fist and brought his knuckles down to meet the stone counter in front of him. With little resistance, the stone cracked and crumbled under the pressure of the downward punch.

The teller in the booth screamed and leapt back, her shriek drowned out by the man’s maniacal laughter. Sly spun around to witness the commotion. Mabel also jumped at the sudden crash; Sly stepped in front of the girl and put a hand in front of her. “Stay back,” he told her. The man continued to laugh as he took a step into the teller’s booth. His boots crushed the tiny remnants of the stone counter to dust as glass from the teller’s shattered window popped under his weight.

“That surgeon wasn’t jokin’,” the man said aloud. “This feels amazing. I’m way stronger now!” The robber stomped past the teller barking and faking an attack at her just to make her flinch. The man laughed and reached for the door behind the teller’s booth.

“Stop right there!” Sly shouted. He stood in front of the broken booth with one of his revolvers drawn and aimed at the robber. The robber looked over his shoulder at Sly and growled.

“Who the hell’re you?” he snarled.

“The name’s Nathan Bowman; the Ranger known as ‘Sly.’”

The man held his breath. A Ranger? he thought. He’s not supposed to be here; the surgeon said so! I better be careful. He turned slowly and raised his hands. Sly got a better look under the man’s cloak and could see his right sleeve was torn to reveal the entirety of his arm; it looked as though it was made of metal. It wasn’t as sleek and smooth as Curtis’s horse, but Sly couldn’t help to notice the resemblance. He studied the robber’s face; it looked familiar, then it clicked.

“Benjamin ‘Bad Mouth’ Rivera,” Sly stated. He remembered the name and could recall that it stuck out to him on the updated bounty pamphlet because his bounty had increased drastically. Bad Mouth used to be a relatively small Outlaw with a bounty of only 5 als, the lowest listed on the pamphlet. He was quite rambunctious and considered deadly just because of his aggressive nature, but now Sly could see why his bounty had shot up to 9.1 als—910 dimes. “Seems as though you’ve gotten an upgrade since I last heard of you,” Sly said. “That looks like more than just a fancy gauntlet.”

“You’ve never seen anythin’ like this,” Bad Mouth boasted while drawing his right arm back by his side and balling his hand into another fist. He lowered his left arm and grabbed hold of his cloak as he began to charge at the Ranger. Sly didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on his revolver, but just as the shot was fired, Bad Mouth raised his cloak to conceal most of his body. The bullet raced at the Outlaw faster than sound and collided with the cloak. Bad Mouth stopped for a moment, but to Sly’s surprise, the bullet fell to the floor flattened as if it had collided with an incredibly hard surface. Bad Mouth huffed and let a snarling grin split his face. He continued his charge as Sly took a step back and cocked his weapon for a second shot, then a third, a fourth. Bad Mouth charged through all of them and got up close to the Ranger. Once he was positioned right in front of Sly, Bad Mouth swept his cloak to the side and thrusted his metal fist at the Ranger.

Sly could feel the immense power behind the punch and swore he could hear a crack as the fist collided with his chest, probably his own ribs. Bad Mouth sent another punch to Sly’s gut, this time with his regular left hand, then a third using his metal fist again. Sly did his best to block when he could, but the strength of the armored arm was incredible and made even blocked punches quite difficult to endure. After landing a couple more blows to Sly, Bad Mouth raised his right leg high for a kick to Sly’s side. Sly braced himself with his arms, but was caught off guard by how strong the kick was, too. Sly stumbled and rolled on the ground. Bad Mouth stood confident and cackled at his own power. Sly slowly recovered and felt his side where the kick landed; it already began to swell, and his breathing was hindered by the pain in his chest.

By then, Mabel and the rest of the people in the bank who weren’t close enough to the door to confidently escape huddled behind a couple of teller booths. Mabel peeked over the counter to watch as Sly struggled to stand. She looked at the door and hoped that Curtis would burst through at any moment to rescue the Ranger. Someone, she thought. Anyone, please!

“That leg of yours,” Sly groaned, finally standing straight. “That was a mighty strong kick. Don’t tell me…” Bad Mouth snarled once more and gripped the right leg of his pants. He yanked at the fabric and tore it clean off to reveal his right leg similarly silvered like his arm. Sly’s stomach sank. He hadn’t expected this level of challenge from such a previously low-ranked Outlaw.

“I couldn’t kick that high before!” Bad Mouth asserted with a hardy laugh.

Sly took the moment of rest to think. Bad Mouth’s right arm and leg had been enhanced somehow if not outright replaced by machines. He was much stronger and dexterous than a normal man. Not to mention that his cloak was somehow bulletproof, too. Not good, Sly thought. I have to create an opening; need to catch him off guard. Sly readied his revolver for another shot, then leapt to his left so he could shoot away from the huddled crowd. Bad Mouth prepared himself for the bullets with his cloak pulled over his body again and yelled at Sly.

“Your guns won’t work so well on me! Not even a Ranger can stop me now!” Sly needed Bad Mouth’s confidence to increase. He aimed at the cloak and fired his fifth and sixth shots from his first revolver. The bullets flattened against the cloak and jingled on the ground. Immediately after, Sly spun his second revolver from its holster and fired. As he shot, he took steps toward the Outlaw who stood his ground likely wanting Sly to get closer so he could make melee strikes again once Sly ran out of bullets. Perfect.

Sly fired the second shot, then the third, fourth, fifth. He advanced on the Outlaw swiftly and got within arm’s reach. The Ranger forced himself as close as he could, but he was surprised that Bad Mouth hadn’t made a move yet. Sly was able to reach for Bad Mouth’s cloak and raised his weapon for the sixth shot aimed underneath the garment. Suddenly, Bad Mouth’s metallic leg sprung out and knocked Sly’s hand upward just as the Ranger fired.

***

Curtis rode along the main road still as rain-soaked as ever. The rain had finally begun to lighten up just a bit when Curtis heard a series of BOOMs! as he passed the bank. His first thought was that it was thunder, but he couldn’t fool himself for very long. He stopped his steed before he entered line-of-sight of the tinted windows on the front of the building. No way there’s a bank robbery goin’ on, he thought. Here? In as big a town as this? Then again, I haven’t seen even a single officer since we got here, not to mention any Rangers, even at this huge bank. He waited before crossing in front of the bank. He heard another series of thunderous blasts. Whatever’s goin’ on in there, ‘s probably best I avoid it.

***

The sixth shot from Sly’s second gun embedded itself in the high, stone ceiling. Bad Mouth’s kick swayed the cloak away from the rest of his body, however, which was just the opening Sly was hoping for. Before Bad Mouth had a chance to recover for another series of punches, the Ranger raised a leg for his own kick to Bad Mouth’s torso. The Outlaw brought his leg down more quickly than Sly had anticipated and used his enhanced arm to grasp Sly’s leg before it could contact his body, but Sly was one step ahead. The Ranger thrusted his leg toward the ground, forcing the Outlaw to lean forward as he continued holding Sly’s leg. Then, Sly took aim with his first revolver and cocked the hammer. Bad Mouth’s brow furrowed as he glimpsed the barrel of the revolver. Wait, how many shots was that? Bad Mouth wondered. Did I miscount?

Bad Mouth released Sly’s leg from his iron grip and tried to bend back as far as he could to avoid Sly’s next bullet. The Outlaw’s efforts were just enough to escape with only a minor scrape on his left bicep, but that was all Sly needed for the time being. Sly lunged at Bad Mouth taking advantage of the Outlaw’s unbalanced stance and wrapped his arms around the robber’s waist. With a deep breath and adrenaline fueling his strength, Sly forced Bad Mouth to the ground. As he was dragged to the floor, Bad Mouth howled. “No way, ya son of a—!” His sentence was cut short when his back slammed against the tile. He inhaled sharply and raised his arms above his head, then slammed his fists down on Sly’s back as the Ranger continued to hold him against the ground. Sly winced with every slam but managed to get out a few words to the crowd cowering behind the counters.

“Get out of here, now,” he groaned. “He’s stuck here for a little longer!” The tellers ushered the frightened patrons toward the door. Curtis’s horse jolted back when the large front doors flew open and a small flood of people poured out into the rain, Mabel included. Curtis shook his head in surprise.

“Mabel?” he called.

The girl faced the familiar voice and broke away from the crowd. “Curtis!” she called back. “Help Sly!”

Curtis understood the message right away and spurred his horse toward the door. Inside, Sly’s grapple had loosened during the beating and Bad Mouth gained the upper hand once again. He broke free from Sly’s strong hold and sprung to his feet. Sly tried to match the Outlaw’s agility, but the robotic limbs gave Bad Mouth an obvious advantage. The Outlaw stomped his superior foot down on one of the Ranger’s hands which still held a revolver, causing Sly to groan and open his hand. Bad Mouth kicked Sly’s face and shoulders with his other foot, then stepped off the Ranger’s hand. He kicked Sly over and retrieved the revolver from the ground, then took aim. He cocked the hammer, pointed the barrel at Sly’s bruised head, and—BLAM! Bad Mouth peered over his shoulder at the man standing in the entrance to the bank. Curtis stood with one arm straight holding one of his revolvers in Bad Mouth’s direction.

With the opposing Outlaw’s cloak shielding his back, Curtis’s bullet was crushed and fell flat on the floor. “What in tar—? Did I see that right?” Curtis questioned, unsure of what he had witnessed. Bad Mouth grew angrier upon having another gunslinger enter the fray. Judging by Curtis’s outfit, Bad Mouth figured it wasn’t a regular officer who had come to save the day, but that Sly must have had back up.

“Damn it!” Bad Mouth exclaimed. “Another Ranger?” The enhanced robber turned his attention away from Sly and took aim at Curtis who promptly took another shot, but the bullet deflected off of Bad Mouth’s metal arm.

“Huh?” Curtis gawked. “Where’d you—?”

“Hold on, Dawn,” Sly called from the floor. His voice was shaky and exhausted, but still held its confident tone. “We need him alive.”

Curtis scrunched his nose in a twisted facial expression, then relaxed. “‘Kay, I understand.” Curtis met Bad Mouth’s eyes which were red with anger.

“Who d’ya think y’are bargin’n on m’damn plan’n ta’n sho’at me y’co’ky so’m bi’!” Bad Mouth blurted, his speech quickly turning into incomprehensible grumbling.

“Hush up an’ make this easy fer all of us,” Curtis interrupted. “Or, if it’s a gunfight y’want, I’m the one you should be comin’ at.” Bad Mouth pointed Sly’s gun at Curtis. “But before ya do anything’,” Curtis continued, “consider how many bullets you got left. If it’s less than three, then I reckon I can take a couple before goin’ down, and I got a lot more than that to fire before I hit the ground.” Curtis lifted his poncho with his free hand to reveal his second revolver. Bad Mouth mumbled and slurred, his hand shaking with rage with his finger on the trigger. Curtis swallowed and steadied his breathing. “Don’t be stupid,” he said calmly. “I ain’t gonna give this up.”

Bad Mouth fumed for a moment longer, then seemed to suddenly relax. His shoulder drooped and his hand stopped shaking. He held his hands into the air and dropped Sly’s revolver. Sly smirked and nodded, then lifted himself to his feet with just a bit of trouble and pulled Bad Mouth’s hands behind his back. Curtis fetched some loose rope from one of his packs and tossed it to Sly, saying, “Bought a bunch o’ this today.” The Ranger bound Bad Mouth’s wrists in a tight knot and escorted the robber out of the bank where law enforcement officials took the robber into custody. Curtis remained inside the bank for the moment to avoid being seen by the police. The officers offered to bring Sly, and Mabel who followed, back to the station to claim the bounty on Bad Mouth; Curtis trailed them at a safe distance.

*** 

“Nine-point-one als!” Curtis spouted. The party had convened at the small table underneath the awning from earlier; the rain had finally stopped by then. Sly nodded boastfully and Mabel peered over the edge of the table at the coins which looked primarily silver, but sheened with a golden glow in the light. Curtis collected himself and cleared his throat trying to think responsibly.

“We oughta put that in the bank,” the Outlaw stated.

“I agree,” Sly replied. “I already withdrew some more coin for us before Bad Mouth started wrecking the place, so we’ll be okay without it.” Mabel’s eyes followed the expensive pieces as Sly tucked them into his pocket. “By the way,” Sly started. “You used your spell on Mister Rivera back there, but it seemed a lot easier than the other time I saw you do it.”

“It tends to be easier to use on people who aren’t in a stable state o’ mind,” Curtis affirmed. The party made their way back toward the bank, Curtis still hiding his identity with his hat and poncho.

“He sure was a crazy guy,” Mabel commented.

“The local sheriff said Rivera used to be miner back when Onyxlanding still exported gold and gemstones,” Sly responded. “Apparently, he went crazy when the mine shut down and he’s tried taking revenge on the town a few times since then. He’s always gotten away, though.”

“It was quite apparent,” Curtis joked. He thought about Bad Mouth’s arm and leg modifications but said nothing.

***

“The Outlaw Benjamin Rivera was thwarted in his plans to rob the bank,” Payton said. The cozy room was dimly lit; the smell of roses wafted from a stick of incense on a small table next to the decorated woman’s chair and shadows danced on the walls with the unpredictable flickering of the fire. “Curtis Conrad an’ Nathan Bowman constrained ‘im and turned ‘im over to local authorities.”

“It was good timing, really,” the woman said in her hushed voice. “Though, I suppose I will have to give an answer as to why law enforcement took so long to respond and why my stationed Rangers seemed oblivious to the commotion.”

“The police arrived on scene after the situation had already been resolved, despite your orders to steer clear of the area.”

“I suspected that they might be forced to respond once things got a little out of hand.”

“Also, Rivera seemed to be acting strangely just before the police arrived. I think Conrad had something to do with it. It’s like Rivera just calmed down after a brief exchange with ‘im.”

“I bet it’s Dawn’s Spell. I’ll look back over the other reports.”

“Rivera is here, m’lady, as you requested. His bounty’s already been claimed, so after you’re done with ‘im, he’ll be taken straight to prison.”

“Bring him in.”

“Yes, Miss.” Payton exited the room through a single wooden door and returned shortly after with the Outlaw; his wrists were shackled with proper cuffs by then. Payton led him into the room and directed him to stand about ten feet from the chair. A blindfold covered his eyes. The jewelried woman stood and approached the Outlaw, a flirtatious grin on her face.

“Bad Mouth,” she breathed. She inspected his exposed metal arm and leg; his cloak had been confiscated by the police. She ran a slender finger along his armored shoulder and bicep before walking a circle around him. “You may not have been able to abuse the full potential of that arm or leg of yours,” the woman said. “But you managed to show off enough of what’s possible with such tools.” She made her way back to her chair and crossed her legs when she sat.

“Are you with the police?” Bad Mouth inquired. “I can tell you all about my arm and leg. Some surgeon gave ‘em to me. I’m sure you’d like to know—”

“Tsk, tsk, Benji.” The woman wagged her finger to the blinded Outlaw. “That’s not what I like to hear from someone I work with. Willing to give up such pivotal information for your own sake. Tsk, tsk.”

Bad Mouth swallowed; a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. “Oh, wait, you’re with the surgeon. No, uh, I was just kiddin’. I—I just had to act like I was cooperatin’ in case you were with the police. I—.”

“That’s okay, Bad Mouth. I’ll forgive you, but only under one condition.”

“I’m sorry. Really, I was just gettin’ desperate. I’ll do whatever you ask. These upgrades are seriously awesome.”

The decorated woman nodded to Payton who removed the blindfold from Bad Mouth’s eyes. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and he looked confused once he recognized the woman in the chair. “Wait a minute, you’re that woman Doyenne, Arma—”

BAM!

Bad Mouth swallowed and struggled to breathe. He blinked rapidly before collapsing to the ground. The gun in the woman’s hand smoked. She held it for a second longer before tossing it on the side table next to her chair. Payton wore a stunned expression. “But, Miss, what about—”

“His bounty was already claimed, so his life was no longer worth anything. I don’t tolerate blabbermouths like him. Especially ones that can’t even talk properly when they get a little angry.” Payton fell silent and nodded obediently. Bad Mouth’s lifeless body laid curled up on the floor, his expression a mixture of confusion and rage; probably what the man felt most of the time while he was alive. The woman said, “Find someone to clean this up. I’m going to need a new rug,” and waved her hand for Payton to leave. Before Payton was gone, the woman added, “Also, send out a notice about the Ranger called ‘Sly’ travelling with the Outlaw ‘Dawn.’ And make sure to emphasize… They’re mine.”

The tan, young girl raised her hand.

“Armani,” the teacher called.

“The Treasury Reform Act of 1648,” the girl stated confidently, answering the teacher’s question.

“Very good,” the teacher cheered with a smile. Armani Anderson was always a gifted girl privileged with intelligence, beauty, and grace, not to mention her knack for being the best at everything she tried. She took up horseback riding, archery, axe throwing, sheep herding, singing, the fiddle, and dancing and was the best of her class in each and every one of them—all before the age of 11. The best part about it for her was that she wanted to do those things; they were never forced upon her. She enjoyed school and was eager to grow up so she could work as a botanist in one of the large cities recently developed near her hometown. Plants fascinated her and she tended to a personal garden around the side of her house every day after school. Armani didn’t have many friends growing up; despite being very pretty and kind, the other school children made fun of her, jealous of her many achievements and smarts. They never included her in their playground games and teased her for having tan skin.

Armani’s family was from the Valley Strip where people were more prone to tanning due to exposure to the intense sun, and even though she had never visited the Strip before, the tanning genes were still in her blood. People from the Valley Strip were also viewed as less sophisticated and improper by those on the Ridge, the area above the valley to the east. Her family had lived on the Ridge since her great, great grandparents moved there as young adults, but lineage was everything to the folks up there. Armani didn’t mind the lack of socialization, though. She had gotten over it in her early years and had learned to be happy with just her family and her garden. But sometimes, the other school children wouldn’t be satisfied with just excluding her. They often went out of their way to bully her: kick dirt in her face, push her around, call her names, insult her family. Luckily, they dared not go near her home or her garden, not out of fear, but out of pride. They didn’t want to be seen around her outside of school, even if they were antagonizing her.

The garden was Armani’s happy place. The wonderful white vervains, the glorious goldenrods, the beautiful blue asters, and the ravishing red roses. Oh, the roses were her favorite. She loved their smell and their color, and the way they made her parents smile every year when they bloomed. It was such a disappointment when she learned that she could not take them with her to the Valley Strip. After Armani finished her elementary school years, her parents decided to move back to the Strip where her family came from, and where many still lived. Armani didn’t want to; despite the bullies, she very much liked the Ridge and still had dreams of working in a city there, but she had no choice. The worst part about it was that the flowers she grew on the Ridge would never survive in the heat down below.

Her parents assured her that there were plenty of gorgeous flowers native to the Valley Strip that Armani could grow in her new garden, but she wanted the roses. Sure, roses could be bought in the Strip, but never grown. They were always imported from the Ridge. Whether she liked it or not, Armani moved with her parents to the place many considered uncouth or even dangerous. She held on to her dreams of becoming a botanist through her middle school years, but during her time at secondary school, she found a new love. The allure of justice caught her attention. Having then spent several years in the Valley Strip, Armani saw just how wild it could be. Her family lived in the eastern section of the Big City, as close as one could get to the Ridge, but they often traveled to see relatives all over the Strip. Armani was treated better there; none of the kids made fun of her because of her lineage and she was usually praised by others for her intelligence; not just the teachers but the students, as well.

The Valley Strip’s educational foundation was very different from the Ridge’s. The history was the same up to a certain point, but then took a completely different path. The Valley Strip’s history was full of war, treachery, crime, and suffering before the Big City was established. Then, a bit of order was brought to the Strip and people could finally settle in one place without feeling vulnerable to attack by the many Outlaws of the desert. Outlaws still existed, sure, but they weren’t nearly as rampant as in generations prior. The idea of riding around the Valley Strip stopping bad guys in their wakes was incredibly arousing to the blossoming Armani and when time finally came to focus on a career path, the young woman from up on the Ridge attended the Ranger Academy in the central portion of the Big City. Her smarts and her looks helped her excel in her courses and graduate at the top of her class.

During school, she participated in internship programs with established Rangers including with one of the top Rangers who lived in the western section of the Big City. The legendary Irving Craig, a Doyen—a rank specially assigned by the government and granted to Rangers who prove themselves to be the best of the best. Armani spent two semesters with Irving learning what it meant to be at the top of the food chain. Irving rarely bothered with Outlaws that had less than 20 gold on their heads, and if they didn’t wield a Spell? “Forget it,” Irving always said. “Why do you think there’re so many lesser Rangers? Not to mention standard law enforcement. My job as a Doyen is to go after the big-ticket items. I’m talkin’ shoot-on-sight kind o’ folks. That’s the type o’ Ranger you should strive t’ be!”

Armani took those words to heart. She respected Irving, but she also liked him. She liked the kind of person he was even outside of his work and wanted to emulate that in her own life as a Ranger. She followed him anywhere he went and observed as he bagged Outlaws left and right like they were collectibles. Armani sometimes helped during her second semester with him, but only with the comparatively weaker foes. At times, she felt very weak compared to Irving and wondered if she would ever live up to his legacy. Of course, Irving was advantaged by possessing a Spell—something every Doyen was granted upon receiving the designation. Irving’s Spell was rather simple, but when mastered could be used to take down enemies without Irving having to lift a finger. He never explained to Armani exactly how it worked, and the Spells possessed by Doyens were kept off the public record to prevent Outlaws from developing techniques against them, so Armani’s knowledge of Irving’s Spell was limited.

All she knew was that Irving needed line-of-sight on his target, then he would close his eyes and take a deep breath and slowly exhale. When he opened his eyes, he usually spat out some witty one-liner and whatever he had done usually worked by then. If not, it only took a few extra seconds to kick in. The Outlaw Irving was focused on would freeze up and drop their weapon, then do whatever Irving told them to do as long as he didn’t lose sight of them. Upon graduating, Armani already had plenty of experience under her belt and sped ahead of her peers in terms of success in the field. Her excellent performance garnered the attention of government representatives which was why, even when those around her lost everything, she still came out on top. Armani didn’t believe it when she was first told that Irving Craig was killed in action. It was true, though, and there was no denying it. His killer was unknown at the time, but many suspected an Outlaw who, at the time, went by many names.

Every time a report was sent about the Outlaw, the physical description was different, but one thing that stayed consistent was the jet-black hat and poncho. At first, law enforcement suspected a gang of people, but other consistencies cropped up that led them to once again believe the reports were about the same person, even if the suspect looked different every time somehow. When more details were discovered about Irving’s death, Armani attended a government convention gathered to update public information regarding Outlaws. Armani, being a respected Ranger and former trainee under Irving, was granted the right to speak at the hearing, and speak she did about Irving’s killer. She proposed a consistent name for the Outlaw: Midnight, after the time the murder was projected to have occurred. She also vowed to bring Midnight to justice no matter what. At that hearing, Armani received the rank of Doyenne. A fitting replacement for Irving Craig is what representatives called her. Of course, she was then given a Spell which she practiced with and utilized for years to come.

Her mother’s old jewelry seemed like the perfect catalyst for Armani’s new power; her mother didn’t go out anymore anyway she thought when she returned to her home for the first time in several months. The rings, necklaces, and earrings, all fairly plain, worked well with her Spell and gave her an air of confidence that she lacked after Irving’s passing. With her rejuvenated spirits, Armani pressed on to try and be the best Ranger possible and avenge the man that inspired her to do so.

***

Armani stood in front of the mirror on her wall; the fire made all her jewelry twinkle in the dim lighting of the room. She held tight the same pendant as before and wished something under her breath. The ring on her right pointer finger was warm. “I can make the arrest tonight,” Payton said from somewhere not in Armani’s room.

“No, we’ll wait,” Armani responded.

“But now’s the perfect time, m’lady. They think they’ve gone unnoticed and’ll be turnin’ in for the night soon. I can catch ‘em off guard.”

“You did that last time. We will wait. If we make a move now, local law enforcement won’t just stand by again. Besides, I still want to learn more about Dawn’s Spell. Did you send my analysis and proposal for its name to the bounties office?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. They don’t seem to stick around in one place for very long. We’ll catch them between towns one of these days—if you don’t mess up again, that is.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll leave tonight, actually. Get a few towns ahead. We’ll have plenty of time to devise a plan.”

“Yes’m. I’ll make preparations.”

“Thank you, darling.” Armani held the pendant. She closed her eyes and thought to herself, then gasped and opened her palm to look at the pendant. For a moment, she thought she felt a warmth come from the pendant. She took stuttering breaths and tried to speak, but nothing came out. She didn’t hear anything either. She swallowed as bumps ran along her neck and arms. “My…beautiful Moon?” she whispered. Nothing. “No…”

***

Sly snapped a finger. “The Band of Lovers,” he announced. “That’s the group of Rangers that Payton belongs to.”

“She doesn’t call the shots, though?” Curtis asked as he wandered around the public stables and examined the horses for sale.

“No,” Sly answered, also viewing the horses. “There’s a Doyenne on top. Blanking on her name right now, but they call her ‘Lady Love.’”

“What’s a Doyenne?” Mabel asked from across the stable.

“Remember when I explained Mavericks to you earlier?” Sly replied. “They’re like those, but for Rangers. The best of the best. Not to be messed with, if you’re an Outlaw that is.”

“Great,” Curtis groaned. “So, chances are we’ve caught the attention of a really good Ranger and she probably knows we’re travelin’ together.”

Sly shrugged. “Payton might also just want your bounty for herself. But, yeah, we need to be extra careful moving forward.” Curtis eyed Mabel who was brushing one of the horses with a brush one of the stable hands gave her. She also helped feed the beast earlier and had grown quite fond of it. They could only afford one horse, though.

“Well, Sly, which one calls to you?” Curtis asked. Sly thought for a moment and decided on a chestnut flaxen gelding that stood a bit higher than the rest at the shoulders. It was rather fitting for Sly with his above-six-foot stature.

“What’re you namin’ it?” Mabel asked after saying goodbye to the horse she had befriended.

“Hm,” Sly groaned as he thought with a hand on his chin.

“It looks smart,” Mabel said. “How ‘bout somethin’ like Cornelius, or Bartholomew.” Curtis twisted his face at Mabel’s suggestions, but Sly kept thinking.

“I’ll call him…Firefly!” Sly announced.

“Oh, pretty,” Mabel commented.

“What happened to a name that strikes fear into our enemies?” Curtis questioned.

“Eh, such a handsome steed won’t be very scary anyway,” Sly said. “Not like yours. He is tall, though; that can be intimidating.”

“Right,” Curtis mumbled. “I’ll go wait outside while you get ‘im registered.” He tossed Sly the rest of the money he had from shopping. Once the horse was officially Sly’s, the group made their way to an inn that had a stable attached around the back. They tied the horses out front at first and moseyed inside. As they approached the receptionist’s desk, Curtis noticed a series of wanted posters on the wall behind the desk which included his own. The man at the desk wore a neat vest and sported bushy eyebrows. He glanced at Curtis and furrowed his brow, possibly recognizing him. Curtis paused and cleared his throat as he lowered the brim of his hat a bit to cover half of his face. Sly stepped in front of the desk and blocked Curtis from the man’s view. Curtis kept his distance while Mabel stood by Sly’s side.

“Evening, my good sir,” Sly said. “We’ll take a couple of rooms. Make one a single, but we’ll take two beds for the kid and I.”

Mabel looked up at Sly and tugged on his shirt. “I don’t wanna share a room with you,” she stated, then immediately withdrew. “No offense, I mean. But I would like my own room, if I could.”

“Oh,” Sly responded, trying not to sound offended. “Sure thing.” He turned to the man at the desk. “Make that three rooms please, all singles.”

The man nodded and said “Of course. You’re a Ranger, right? I assume with yer neat get up. Don’t you have quarters you can stay at when you’re stationed in town?” 

“We’re just passing through,” Sly said. “I think we’ll only stay the night.”

The man nodded. “That’ll be six silver and three dimes, please.” He rang up the payment at the register and fetched three room keys.

“That includes complementary dinner and breakfast, right?” Sly inquired.

The man smiled. “Certainly, sir.”

Sly thanked him and led Mabel toward the stairs up to their rooms. Curtis did his best to remain out of sight of the receptionist, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. The group climbed to the second floor where Sly handed the other two their keys. “I’ll go get our horses set up in the stables,” Sly said.

“Mabel, why don’t you take the middle room,” Curtis suggested.

“Good idea,” Sly agreed.

“Then you’ll be equidistant from me in case I need help, right?” Mabel said with a hint of sarcasm.

Curtis nodded slightly. “Just in case. Can’t be too careful.”

“I know, I know,” Mabel groaned playfully. She took the key from Sly and unlocked her room. Sly began walking toward the stairs leading down, but after Mabel entered her dwelling, Curtis approached Sly.

“Can you check on ‘er before bed?” Curtis requested in a hushed tone. “I would do it, but if she’s seen with either of us, I’d rather it be you.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Sly replied. “No need to worry. She’ll be safe.”

“I’ll also eat dinner alone in my room tonight,” Curtis added. “I feel like we’re being too conspicuous already. I think the receptionist recognized me, but I’m not certain.”

Sly nodded. “Yeah. I’ll stay alert, too.”

“Good.” Curtis unlocked his room and went inside. Later, Mabel and Sly went down to the dining hall on the first floor for dinner, then brought food back up for Curtis. After, Mabel changed into more comfortable clothing to sleep in, then Sly joined her in her room to make sure she didn’t need anything before bed. The single rooms were simple. One bed was tucked into the far-right corner from the door with a small table next to it; a dresser was situated on the far wall and a larger wardrobe on the left wall. The dresser supported a mirror. A coat rack stood next to the door and two oil lamps were mounted on opposite walls to light the room.

“We’ll be right next door if something happens, okay?” Sly reassured. Mabel nodded as she climbed into the bed. “Just knock on either wall,” Sly chuckled. He walked to the lamp closest to Mabel’s bedside table, but before covering the flame he turned to Mabel who lied on her side facing away from Sly. “Mabel,” Sly said.

“Yeah?” she responded without turning over.

Sly sighed. “At the bounties office earlier, you seemed off while reading over the list of Mavericks. What was it?”

Mabel remained facing away from Sly and stayed silent for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I recognized one of the names is all,” she said quietly.

“Other than Midnight or Billy the Kid, you mean? Like, a personal recognition?” Mabel stayed silent. “N-never mind,” Sly stuttered. “You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked. Not like I’ve shared too much about my life anyway.” Sly covered the flame of the lamp near Mabel’s bedside table and began making his way to the door where the other lamp was mounted. Just before he covered the flame of the second lamp, Mabel spoke.

“What d’you know about Lester Langley?” she asked. Sly turned around and saw that Mabel had sat up in the bed. The dim light from the single lamp gave her glossy eyes an extra sparkle similar to if she were on the verge of tears.

“I know…” Sly started but hesitated. “He was a politician. From the Ridge. I remember hearing about him most during my years at the Ranger Academy since I’m from the Ridge and all.” Mabel stared at Sly. Sly couldn’t tell if Mabel was paying attention; her gaze was intense, but also unfocused. “He was pretty corrupt,” Sly continued. “Of course, people didn’t know that for sure for a while. Turns out he was working with some pretty bad people, Outlaws, to secure his place as a city council member, mayor, and eventually as the supervisor for the whole region. He made his way to the Valley Strip, specifically the areas in and around the Big City, and started really manipulating the whole system in his favor.

“Thankfully, it didn’t take long for his crimes to be found out and for him to get charged with a whole load of things like money laundering, election rigging, aiding Outlaws in various ways, some other stuff. He has a really high bounty for it now, but I don’t think anyone knows where he’s hiding at the moment. He’s been missing for years. He’s not an Outlaw in the traditional sense that most people think of, but he’s still a very bad man and he’s done some very bad things.”

“You don’t say,” Mabel mumbled. Sly looked at Mabel who was then staring at the sheets over her lap. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, using her knees to support her head. Her eyes were still glossy and flickered with the reflection of the flame of the lamp across the room.

“What did Lester Langley do to you?” Sly probed.

“Nothing,” Mabel answered without looking up. “I was the only one he didn’t do anything to.” She sniffled. “When ‘e came to the Valley Strip, I was really young… but I remember hearin’ about how he was tryin’ to enforce policies here that were designed for the Ridge and didn’t take into consideration the differences in population, culture, or wealth down ‘ere in the Strip. A lot of poorer families suffered because of it. We didn’t even live in the Big City; we were in Thorntree on the west side.” Mabel took a deep breath. “My family didn’t make enough money for the new taxes,” she whimpered. A lump formed in her throat. “We could barely afford food with the inflation. And Lester Langley was very thorough. Often times, he would send men to do his bidding and punish those of us too poor to manage in his new economic plan, but sometimes he would come himself to deal with the vermin outside the Big City.”

Sly listened. He watched Mabel as she forced the words from her mouth even though he could tell it hurt her to relive the memories. Mabel swallowed harshly and inhaled. “He did terrible things to my family,” she exhaled. “He…beat them. He tortured my dad and abused my mom and big sisters.” She sniffled again, this time followed by a steady flow of tears. “They did everything they could to make him stay away from me, begged ‘im to do whatever he wanted with them so long as ‘e didn’t hurt me. And ‘e listened. To everyone’s surprise, he didn’t lay a finger on me. No, my punishment was that I had to watch. I had to sit there powerless and unable to do anythin’ about the mistreatment of my family and our neighbors. I also wasn’t allowed to go to school anymore ‘til my family paid off our debts. Daddy was very vocal about his hatred for Langley and was always out attendin’ political rallies against ‘im.” She paused. “One day, daddy didn’t come home. The next night, some of Langley’s men came sayin’ that my family was under arrest for tax evasion. I don’t even think they were police.

“Mama wasn’t havin’ any of it. She fought back. One of the guys had a gun. My sisters told me to run away, go anywhere that wasn’t there. Said they’d catch up… They never came,” she sniffled and shrugged. Sly listened still, but he couldn’t look at the girl anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her pouring eyes. “I don’t really know what happened after that,” Mabel went on. “I got as far from the Big City as I could; went to Coyote Run. It seemed like a decent place to try and survive. Lots o’ new faces walked through every day; easy pickings for a beggar seekin’ one-time sympathy from passersby. Also helped me learn a lot o’ things I missed out on while I was banned from school.” Mabel wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Sorry,” she said. “That was probably more than you asked for. I know this group isn’t keen on sharin’ much, and—.”

“I’m sorry,” Sly whimpered. Mabel looked up to see the door shut; the Ranger was already out of sight. She watched the flame in the lamp by the door flicker. Sly stood outside with his back against the door. He stared at the ground for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head into his hands. What am I doing? he thought. Why did I just walk out like that? This isn’t the time to leave her alone. I have to go back in there and make her feel better. Do it, Sly. Turn around and open the door. Do it. Do it! Do it! Sly’s thoughts were interrupted by the gentle sound of light footsteps on the wooden floor inside Mabel’s room. He opened his eyes and stood tall again. The footsteps got closer and closer to the door. Sly’s heart pounded harder than usual. He forced himself away from the door and turned around, ready to face the girl when she opened it. He waited, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down.

Instead, the light inside the room that peaked out from under the door disappeared and was replaced by shadow. Sly heard the little footsteps grow quieter and farther away before they were gone entirely. He felt a lump forming in his throat and swallowed hard. He closed his eyes again as they began to dampen and rested his forehead against the door. “Even when I thought I found a way to leave it all behind,” he whispered. “Now I’m traveling with a living reminder.”

***

The next morning, Sly went down and grabbed everyone’s breakfast for them and brought the plates back upstairs. He carefully balanced one of the dishes on his arm and held the other two in his hands, then used his foot to knock on Curtis’s door. It cracked open and the Outlaw, fully clothed, peaked through the sliver of an opening. Sly gestured with the plate of food. Curtis opened the door wider and took the plate from Sly thanking him. “I’ll come get you when Mabel and I are ready to move,” the Ranger said. Curtis nodded and shut the door while Sly made his way to Mabel’s room. He knocked on the door and took a plate in each hand. Mabel answered and looked up at Sly. He tried to give her a light smile, but she could tell something was off. “Here’s breakfast,” Sly said and handed one of the plates to Mabel. “I’ll get you once it’s time to go.”

Mabel started to shut the door as Sly walked toward his own room, but he turned around and called to the girl. She opened the door again and looked at the Ranger. He took a breath and thought about what to say. Um… We’ll be leaving soon, so eat fast, okay?” he croaked.

“Okay,” she quietly responded. “Thank you.” Not much later, after the group had finished breakfast and prepared to depart, the three made their way down to the stable and retrieved their horses.

“Mabel,” Curtis called. “Could you tighten my pack to the saddle.” He gestured with his bag to his metallic steed which remained wrapped in cloth. Mabel wandered over and took the pack from Curtis to start securing it while the Outlaw walked over to Sly and Firefly. He brushed a hand against Firefly’s neck and spoke in a quieter tone. “Thanks for checkin’ on ‘er last night, Sly,” he said. “I feel like you’re much better at this whole caring-for-a-kid thing than I am.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Sly replied without looking at the Outlaw. Curtis’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head at the Ranger.

“Everythin’ alright?” he asked.

Sly looked at Curtis then and tried to perk up. “Yeah—yeah!” he exclaimed with a clenched fist. “Sorry, I think my breakfast was a bit funky. Haven’t been feeling my best this morning. But you know I’m always ready and raring to go!” Sly smiled wide as he always did. Curtis chuckled.

“Alright,” he laughed. “Then let’s go. I’ll be interested in seein’ you ride Firefly for the first time,” he shouted as he made his way back to his own horse. Mabel stood by its side, waiting for assistance in mounting it.

“We still need a name for your horse,” Mabel said with a small grin.

“Yeah, yeah. I need’a think o’ somethin’ good,” Curtis replied before hoisting Mabel onto the saddle. “You need’a learn to climb up there by yourself.” Curtis hoisted himself atop his steed and commanded it to walk. Sly followed on Firefly and the group made their way onto the main road. Curtis wore his hat low in an effort to not be recognized by anyone knowledgeable about Outlaws. Sly held out the crude topographical drawing Curtis made a couple days prior.

“East to Proudkeep, right?” the Ranger confirmed.

“Maybe we should’ve gotten a real map,” Curtis said, slightly ashamed of his work.

“Nah,” Sly retorted. “No need. I know the Mesa Frontier well enough, so I can work with this.”

“If you say so,” Curtis murmured. Once the party was outside of Onyxlanding and on their way through the desert, Curtis said, “I’m surprised nothing else happened last night. We should assume that Payton’s hot on our trail.”

“Yeah,” Sly agreed. “Should also assume that the rest of the Band of Lovers will be after us, too. Maybe even other Rangers and law enforcement. We need to tread very lightly.”

Curtis looked over his shoulder at Mabel. “We’ll do everythin’ we can t’keep ya safe, kid,” he assured her.

“I’ll be fine,” Mabel snickered. “I saved you from Payton last time, remember?”

Curtis chuckled and faced forward. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Curtis spurred his horse to pick up speed and Sly mimicked the motion to keep pace. The Ranger watched Mabel bob up and down on the back of Curtis’s saddle, still thinking of the night before. He wasn’t sure what to say to the girl if anything. She hadn’t acknowledged the evening’s events in any way that he noticed except perhaps for her quiet tone when he brought her breakfast. She may have been tired, though. Mabel just stared ahead at the wavy landscape and held tight to the saddle. Within a couple of hours, Onyxlanding disappeared from the horizon.

Curtis rubbed his shoulder and groaned at the pain. His other hand grasped the reigns of his horse. Mabel leaned over and peered at Curtis’s rough hand as it massaged his shoulder. The two of them gently bobbed up and down as the horse trotted across the searing sands of the desert. Curtis groaned again.

“Think the pain’ll stop soon?” Mabel asked.

“Yeah, probably,” Curtis replied in a gravelly voice. He cleared his throat. “It only hurts when I touch it or move it too much. Jumpin’ up here don’t feel too good, either. At least my side don’t hurt anymore.” Curtis lifted his tunic to try and see where Sly had shot him just four days before. Curtis thought about it for a second; it had only been four days since he arrived in Sunnyville, but so much had happened. Curtis hadn’t gotten much downtime in the past 18 months. He had hoped that leaving the Southern Slick would mean having a more relaxed journey, but every day in the Mesa Frontier continued to bring new challenges his way. Mabel glanced at Curtis’s side, but didn’t get a good look before Curtis lowered his tunic again; it was awkward trying to look at his wound while guiding his horse at the same time. “There might not even be a scar for that one,” Curtis remarked. “This one on the other hand,” he said, touching his shoulder again. “Payton’s rifle is no joke.”

“You could’ve died,” Mabel whimpered. “If she’d hit you just a little higher, you’d be gone.” She rested her head against Curtis’s back and stared into the desert.

“Yeah,” Curtis sighed. “It’s, uh, it’s pretty risky bein’ a wanted Outlaw. I try not to think about it too much.” Curtis whipped his horse’s reins to bring the metallic steed to a canter, and the two of them, with Sly and Firefly not far behind, hurried on toward Proudkeep. Proudkeep was farther away from Onyxlanding than most towns were from each other. The trip from Onyxlanding to Proudkeep took at least a full day with no stops. It was already midafternoon; the scorching sun would have burned even Curtis and Mabel’s tanned skin that day if it weren’t for their hats and ponchos. Even with his clothing, Sly’s pale complexion was starting to look slightly pink. The Ranger raced to catch up to Curtis and Mabel, then rode alongside them. Mabel glanced at Sly who met her eyes for a moment, then looked toward the ground before facing Curtis.

“Hear that?” Sly asked, cupping a hand over his ear. Curtis and Mabel listened closely. Just barely over the pounding of the horses’ hooves on the sand they could make out the sound of rushing water. “The Twin River East!” Sly shouted with excitement and pointed ahead. He snapped Firefly’s reins and galloped toward the river which revealed itself from behind the waves of heat emanating from the desert sand. By the time Curtis and Mabel caught up, Sly was already down by the water letting Firefly drink; Sly took off his boots and rolled up his pants to dip his feet into the water. Curtis stopped about thirty feet up the bank, then hopped down from his horse. Mable climbed down on her own—much to the pleasure of Curtis’s wounded shoulder—and skipped down to the water. Sly looked up at the Outlaw who stood by his horse.

“I figured she didn’t need water,” Sly started, “but Firefly was looking quite parched. Or was yours a he? Which did we decide?”

Curtis chuckled. “I don’t like bringin’ it near deep water. It’ll sink right to the bottom if it falls in.” Sly shrugged and knelt down to splash his face. Mabel, too, removed her boots and rolled up her pants. She took a few steps into the shallower part of the river and felt the strong current. She looked out to the deeper parts of the river where the current was even stronger and saw how easily one could be swept away. The river averaged about 30 feet across; it would be difficult for someone stuck in the middle to make it to shore.

“I’ve never been to the river before,” Mabel said kneeling down to dunk her hands into the water. Sly watched her. She didn’t give any indication that she was upset with him for walking out on her the night before.

Maybe I’m overthinking this, he thought. Still, I feel bad. He took a step toward the girl. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. I used to go all the time when I lived in the Big City.” Mabel stood and shook her hands, then wiped them dry on her blouse. She wandered over to Firefly who was still drinking from the rushing river. Curtis eyed Sly; he noticed Sly’s hesitance when speaking to Mabel and his apparent discomfort in approaching her, but he kept it to himself. When Firefly finished drinking, Sly refilled the water bottle he purchased in Onyxlanding. Curtis and Mabel did the same, then climbed back atop the metallic steed. “We can cross the bridge,” Sly said after climbing onto Firefly and pointed south.

The group rode south about a quarter-of-a-mile to reach the stone bridge. As they approached, they noticed a carriage half-way across that appeared to have flipped onto its side. The horse leading it stood in front seeming to have broken free from its straps. Curtis and Sly picked up the pace and could see that one of the wooden wheels on the hooded wagon was broken off. When they reached the carriage, they heard a groan from underneath it. Sly and Curtis jumped down from their mounts and rushed over to help a bald man trapped under the hooded cart. The man groaned again as the Ranger and Outlaw each grabbed hold of one end of the cart to hoist it up for the man to crawl out. Just as they were about to lift, the man spoke.

“Please,” the man bleated. “Help my brother. He fell into the river.” The man pointed to the low wall of the bridge. Sly looked at Curtis, then released his grip on the carriage.

“Hold on,” Sly said, then made his way to the edge of the bridge and looked into the rushing river below. He could see another man, one with a bald head just as the one under the cart had, who was holding on to a large rock jutting out from the middle of the river. The bridge hovered only six-or-so feet above the river. “Dawn,” Sly shouted looking to Curtis. “If you hold on to my legs, I think I can reach him and pull him up!”

“Sit tight fer just a sec,” Curtis told the man underneath the carriage. He hurried over to Sly and put his weight on the Ranger’s legs as Sly leaned over the wall and tried to reach for the man in the water.

“Hey,” Sly shouted over the noise from the strong current. “We’re going to help! I need you to try and pull yourself up and reach a hand toward me!” The man in the water looked up, but just then, Curtis felt a hefty shove from behind and his grip loosened on Sly’s legs. The Ranger slipped from Curtis’s grip and plunged into the water. He was quickly swept away and the man holding the rock was knocked from his hold. Curtis recomposed himself and turned around to find the first man freed from under the carriage and holding a revolver toward Curtis. He looked to Mabel who stood to the side with a fearful expression.

“I’m sorry, Curtis,” she whimpered. “I couldn’t say anythin’.” Curtis sighed and looked back to the man and raised his hands. The man grinned and seemed to be holding back laughter.

“So, you’re not really needin’ any help, huh?” Curtis guessed.

“Oh, you can help me,” the man said in a playful tone. “Empty yer pockets! I’ll be takin’ yer horses, too!” He released a harsh laugh.

“Damn,” Curtis whispered. “I guess that’s what I get fer tryin’ t’be nice.” Curtis slowly lowered his hands and began lifting his poncho. When the bald man noticed Curtis’s guns at his hips, he jerked his own and commanded Curtis to put them on the ground. Curtis complied, then showed that his pockets were empty.

“Don’t think yer purse went unnoticed,” the man sneered. “Toss that down, too!”

Curtis begrudgingly obeyed, then said, “I assume yer friend in the water is in on this, too. So, what can I call my muggers, the Bald Bandits?” The man howled with laughter, then looked Curtis in the eyes. The man’s eye’s screamed “crazy.”

“We’re the Duster Brothers, Liam and Lyle!”

“Twins, huh? Which one’re you?”

“Folks call me the Dust Devil, Liam Boone! My younger brother’s known as the Dust Mite.”

Meanwhile downstream, Lyle Boone rushed through the water to catch up to Sly. The Ranger reached out to the Duster Brother as the two drew nearer and grabbed onto him once close enough. Lyle hoisted himself on top of Sly who was trying to support Lyle in the water, still under the impression that the bald man was in need of saving. The bandit shoved Sly’s head under the water as hard as he could, but the Ranger forced himself above the surface. “What are you doing?” Sly asked confused. Lyle pushed the Ranger’s head back under water, but Sly again brought himself back up and tried pushing Lyle off himself. Lyle punched Sly in the nose, disorienting him along with the rapid current of the river, then punched a second time to knock him out. Once Sly was unconscious, Lyle grabbed the Ranger and began guiding him to the riverbank. Back on the bridge, Liam Boone still held his gun to Curtis.

“Good, good,” Liam growled. “The kid doesn’t have anythin’ valuable, does she?” he asked, looking to Mabel with an evil grin.

“No, she doesn’t,” Curtis answered. “Wouldn’t trust a kid her age with money or anythin’ like that.”

“Well, all right,” Liam chuckled. “Git goin’ then! Leave yer horses and head back the way ya came. If you’re lucky, you’ll make it to Onyxlandin’ before the heat gits ya!”

The bandit released a devilish giggle and nudged his gun toward Curtis who looked to Mabel and gestured for her to follow him. Curtis waited until Mabel passed Liam before slowly walking back toward the horses, but just as he began to walked away, Mabel lunged back and tried to take the gun away from Liam. Liam was stronger and easily shook away from Mabel’s grip, then aimed the gun toward her. Curtis jumped in and pulled Liam’s arm back as he shot, firing into the air a few feet over Mabel’s head. The girl ducked with her hands on her head as Curtis scuffled with Liam. Curtis situated his foot behind Liam’s and forced the bandit to the ground, but Liam still held the gun. He fired another shot but missed Curtis and snarled as he tried to get away from him.

Curtis wrapped his arms around Liam from behind and directed his gun in the opposite direction from where Mabel crouched. Mabel took the opportunity to duck behind the fallen carriage and use its body as cover. Curtis wrestled with Liam on the ground, trying not to let the bandit throw himself down and smash Curtis between his body and the stone bridge. “That was a dirty trick ya pulled,” Liam said between grunts and groans.

“Dirtier than robbin’ people who were only tryin’ t’help?” Curtis retorted.

“It’s not about playin’ clean in the Valley Strip. It’s about makin’ money to thrive and the fun of doin’ it!”

“I probably would’a agreed with ya in a recent phase of my life,” Curtis answered. “But lately, I’ve found that money ain’t worth the consequences!” The two struggled for dominance for a moment longer, then Curtis thrusted Liam upward and punched the Duster Brother. He went in for another blow, but Liam leapt back and avoided the attack, then aimed his revolver at Curtis and cracked a maniacal grin.

“I tried to let ya go,” Liam said. “But now you’ll be facin’ the consequences!” He pressed his finger against the trigger, but just before he fired a bullet at Curtis, a rock collided with the back of his shoulder. He turned around to see Mabel duck back behind the carriage. In his absence of attention, Curtis once again lunged at Liam and grabbed the arm with the gun to keep it pointed away from himself and Mabel. “Another dirty trick!” Liam screeched.

“You’re no better!” Curtis replied. Curtis thought for a moment. This was his chance. He could lure Liam in. “If you’re all about fun,” Curtis began, “then why not indulge in an exciting duel between two skilled gunmen?” During the scuffle, Liam raised an eyebrow and look at Curtis’s face. “What d’ya say?” Curtis continued. “You and me, fair and square.”

“And what if I don’t wanna?” Liam answered. “I’m a slippery fella; we already know I’ll get the upperhand if we keep wrestlin’ like this. Just give up and let me kill ya!”

“Ain’t no way in hell that I’m givin’ up on this,” Curtis said. He had him.

The two grappled for another moment, then Liam loosened up saying, “All right, all right!” The two let go of one another and Liam looked at the Outlaw. He continued. “You’re the first person t’ever suggest a duel to determine their fate,” he said. “I guess if I win, I get to keep yer stuff anyway. But if I lose…” Curtis shrugged. It didn’t matter. Liam had already fallen under his Spell.

Mabel made her way to the middle of the cart and poked her head above the side to watch the scene unfold. Curtis handed her one of his revolvers. “I’ve got ‘im,” he whispered. “Just trust me.” He turned to Liam again. “The girl will act as judge,” he said. “She’ll aim the gun up and fire. The moment we hear the shot, we draw. Sound fair enough?”

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Liam agreed. Curtis retrieved his other revolver and paced away from Liam. The two stood opposite each other about twenty paces and hovered their hands over their holstered guns. Mabel shivered nervously, but held the gun above her head. She plugged one ear with a finger from her empty hand and tried to use her raised shoulder to muffle the sound for the other. Curtis focused on his gun. He knew his plan. Liam swallowed hard and wiggled his fingers over his holster. Mabel took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then fired. Liam swiftly pulled his revolver from its holster and aimed at Curtis, but before he could fire, Curtis dove to the side and hid behind the carriage. Then he drew his weapon and fired toward the horse standing in front of the cart, startling it.

Liam glanced at the horse as it brought its forelegs into the air before slamming them down and galloping away. He reached a hand out as if to try and stop the horse, but failed to grab its reins. “Wait!” Liam called to the horse. He turned to face the cart again but was caught off guard by Curtis’s fist flying toward his face. Curtis knocked Liam in the jaw. “Why you—” Liam tried to say before Curtis kneed the bandit and punched his gut. Curtis put his foot around Liam’s and tripped him again sending him tumbling to the ground. This time, Liam fell back and slammed his head against the low wall on the side of the bridge, falling unconscious. He dropped his gun and fell limp. Mabel, who had ducked behind the carriage again right after firing the revolver, lifted herself up and saw Curtis standing over Liam. She ran out from behind the wagon and looked at the bandit.

“You were reckless,” Curtis said to her.

She looked up at the Outlaw and frowned. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she said. “It seemed like you were really stuck, so I tried t’help. And I did! You got the opportunity to fight with ‘im and trap ‘im with your spell.”

“Yeah, but what if I hadn’t succeeded? You’d’ve been in some serious trouble.”

Mabel frowned more and looked away from Curtis. “I can take care o’ myself,” she whimpered. She rested the revolver on the side of the carriage that was flipped upward and walked toward the horses.

“I know,” Curtis replied quietly. Curtis picked up his gun and followed Mabel. She tried to lift herself onto Curtis’s horse, but wasn’t able to swing her leg over its back.

“You’re gettin’ there,” Curtis said in praise. “Stay here, though.”

“Why?” Mabel rebelled immediately.

“Watch after Firefly. The Dust Devil over there shouldn’t wake up anytime soon, but just in case, take this.” Curtis handed Liam’s revolver to Mabel. “He doesn’t appear to have any other weapons on ‘im. I’m goin’ t’check on Sly. We’ll be back in a few minutes.” He guided his horse toward the bridge, then turned back to Mabel. “I trust you, Mabel,” he called back. Curtis then whipped the reins on his horse and galloped over the bridge, then followed the river south downstream. Meanwhile, Lyle finished taking anything valuable from Sly—his purse, his boots and poncho (which weren’t very valuable but were new and clean), and his seven-shot revolvers.

Never seen anythin’ like these before, Lyle thought. He wrapped his loot in Sly’s poncho, then slung it over his shoulder. He turned to head back up stream to where he assumed Liam had been successful, but didn’t notice the sound of hurried galloping over his devious thoughts. The bandit was met with cold, steel hooves to his chest and fell to the ground. Curtis ran up after the kick and brought his boot to Lyle’s face. Lyle recoiled and rolled on the ground, holding his nose. Curtis slowly approached and pointed a gun at the bandit. Lyle looked up with his bloody nose at the backlit Outlaw who towered above. He sighed and sniffled, then wiped blood on his sleeve.

“Jig’s up, Dust Mite,” Curtis said.

“Who you callin’ Dust Mite?” Lyle questioned. “I’m the Dust Devil!”

“You’re Lyle Boone right? Yer brother, Liam, said he’s the Dust Devil.”

“Well, he’s a liar! I’m obviously the superior brother.”

“Obviously.” Curtis whipped his revolver at Lyle and knocked him out cold, then reclaimed Sly’s belongings. Sly came-to and saw Curtis leaning over him and waving a hand. His right cheek felt oddly pained. “Git up, Sly,” Curtis commanded. “The Duster Brothers are Done…ster Brothers…”

“What?” Sly inquired, still dazed.

“Never mind. Come on, Mabel’s waitin’ at the bridge.” Sly stood and looked at the bald man lying unconscious on the ground. Curtis handed him his things, as well, and picked up Lyle’s revolver.

“Okay, I see,” the Ranger said.

“Ever heard of ‘em? The Duster Brothers?”

“No.” Sly took the bounties pamphlet from his pocket and scanned through the names; he didn’t see either of the Boone brothers’ names anywhere on the list.

“Probably wouldn’t be worth the hassle to bring ‘em in, huh?” Curtis wondered aloud.

“Probably not for money, no,” Sly said. “But should we let them keep wandering the Mesa Frontier? I have a feeling that we’re the first ones to successfully protect ourselves against their scheme.”

Yeah, we, Curtis thought. “Eh, I don’t see it as a big deal. We can take their carriage with their stuff. Whatever they have is probably stolen, but at least they’ll be left with nothing.”

“I guess you’re right.” The two hopped atop Curtis’s horse and rode calmly back to the bridge; Sly had wound up almost 300 yards downstream. They found Mabel standing by Firefly and watching the still unconscious Liam Boone when they returned. She perked up when she saw Curtis and Sly approaching the bridge.

“Sly!” she called. “You’re okay!”

“Relatively, yeah,” Sly chuckled.

“Help me flip this thing, will ya, Sly?” Curtis requested.

Curtis and Sly hoisted the carriage right-side-up and found the detached wheel underneath and seemingly only disconnected rather than broken off. They found a small bag of tools inside the hooded wagon, along with other goodies, and screwed the wheel back on. “By the way, Curtis,” Mabel said as the men were fixing the cart and rummaging through its contents. “I’ve noticed somethin’…about yer Spell.”

Curtis stood straight and looked at Mabel. “Yeah?” he entertained. “What’s that?”

“Whenever you use it, you usually say ‘I’m not givin’ up on this’ or somethin’ along those lines. Why?” Curtis sighed and tried to think of how to explain it.

“Well, it’s just the type of Spell I have. So, my Spell involves havin’ to speak with someone. In order to make someone duel me fair and square, I need t’make ‘em think that there’s no other outcome. Usually, I can convince ‘em just by talkin’ briefly with ‘em, but if I get the sense that they’re not catchin’ on, then I’ll say that to plant the thought in their head and trap ‘em in my Spell. Make sense?”

“Okay, I think I understand. So, that’s the phrase you use to both bait them into your Spell and check to see that it’s worked dependin’ on their response?”

“You got it.”

“It’s like your mantra.”

“We should start a jar and keep track of every time you use a word you learned in school.”

Mabel chuckled but frowned slightly at the joke. Sly also felt uncomfortable. I’m sorry Mabel, he thought, but didn’t say it. “You know,” Sly said, trying to change the subject. “That sounds a lot like a Spell that a Ranger used some years ago, before he died that is. Have either of you ever heard of Irving Craig? He was called ‘Silver Tongue’ by his peers.” Mabel shook her head, but Curtis nodded slowly. “His Spell involved talking to people, too,” Sly explained. “Once he activated it, he had to keep the target within line-of-sight or the Spell would break.”

Curtis thought for a moment, then said, “Hmph, mine doesn’t require line-o’-sight once I’ve caught someone in it.”

“Yours also isn’t quite as powerful,” Sly said. Curtis rolled his eyes. “Silver Tongue could control his victim’s actions once they were caught,” Sly said. “I don’t really know how it worked, though. Apparently, he used to say stuff to make sure it worked, too. I just noticed the similarities is all.”

“That’s really fascinatin’,” Mabel said. “I knew that every Spell is different, but I didn’t know there are different categories.”

“You didn’t even know Spells existed before comin’ with me,” Curtis said. Mabel stuck her tongue out playfully. “Anyway,” Curtis continued. “We should get movin’ to Proudkeep. We’ll already arrive in the late morning with the delay from the Duster Brothers. Besides, I don’t feel like stickin’ around until Liam here wakes up.”

Sly emptied the Brothers’ guns of ammo and tossed them into the river after declaring that the group wouldn’t need them; Curtis agreed. The Ranger stashed the extra ammo into his bag and tossed the sack aboard the carriage. Other possessions on the carriage included nice-looking clothes for men and women, food rations and waterskins of varying fullness, a wanted poster for each of the Duster Brothers (neither of which labeled either one of them as the Dust Devil or Dust Mite), knapsacks, more revolver ammunition, and two als, seven silver, 22 dimes, and 11 pennies. Curtis and Sly agreed to split the money relatively evenly amongst the two of them until they got to Proudkeep where they could deposit it into a bank. Sly brought Firefly to the front of the carriage to tie him up, but thought for a moment before doing so.

“Would it make more sense to tie your horse up here since it doesn’t get fatigued from hauling weight around?” he asked Curtis. The Outlaw shrugged and led his horse to the front of the carriage and tied it up. Then, he and Mabel climbed into the hooded wagon as Sly rode Firefly alongside. Sly looked at the crude map of Curtis’s creation and pointed in the direction of Proudkeep before leading the way on Firefly.

“Let’s get a real map in Proudkeep, yeah?” Curtis called. Sly laughed and rode on. Mabel chuckled. After a few more hours, the gang noticed the silhouette of a city in the distance as the sun fell below the horizon.