Wanted

The morning after defeating the Duster Brothers, Curtis and the gang packed up their knapsacks and prepared to head into town. Proudkeep was only a few miles away, so it wouldn’t take long for the party to arrive. Proudkeep was small, but not as small as Sunnyville. It consisted of one main road that ran north to south with buildings lining either side but had an off shoot which ran perpendicular toward the east about halfway down.

Stone structures were mixed in with the primarily wooden building that made up most of the town’s construction; they were remnants of a war that happened long ago and in which Proudkeep was used as a military base. There was no longer any major military presence in town anymore, but reminders of the war were scattered all throughout the city including artifacts at a history museum on the northern side. As the party approached, Mabel poked her head out from the hood of the carriage. She had asked Sly for the bounties pamphlet and was reading over the names; her eyes lingered again on Lester Langely, but she didn’t let herself think too hard about him.

“So, there are some Rangers with Spells, right?” she asked.

“Mhm,” Curtis answered. “It’s rare, but they exist.”

“Hmph. How does someone get a Spell?”

“I think most people are just born with ‘em,”

“You were born with yours?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know it ‘til I met Midnight.” Curtis stared forward toward Proudkeep. “Maybe we should finish this conversation later. Don’t wanna draw attention to ourselves by talkin’ ‘bout supernatural forces an’ all.” He chuckled. Upon entering the town on the southern end of the main road, Curtis felt that something was off. He knew Proudkeep to be a nice and calm place, but when he, Sly, and Mabel rode in that morning, nobody was out on the streets. Silence filled the air as wind blew dust across the sandy roads. Curtis halted the carriage and held a hand out to signal Sly to wait. He couldn’t help feeling the similarities between now and when he rode into Sunnyville less than a week before.

Mabel sat in the hooded wagon as they rode while Curtis sat on the bench in front to guide his horse, but Mabel poked her head out front to see why they had stopped. Curtis faced Sly as the Ranger trotted up beside the carriage on Firefly. He gave Sly a look of worry and glanced at Mabel. He slowly gazed around the street for any signs of ambush but saw nothing. “Somethin’ ain’t right,” Curtis said in a low voice to Sly. “Proudkeep ain’t normally this quiet.”

“You’re right,” Sly agreed. “Think someone’s preparing to attack us?”

“Not sure. This feels all too familiar t’me right now. Let’s try to make our way to the backroads behind the buildings until we can figure out what’s up.” Curtis commanded his horse to move east and around the buildings lining the main streets and Sly followed on his steed. Just as they were almost past at the side of the road, however, a voice called out to them.

“Wait!” a man shrieked. Curtis exhaled and glanced toward the voice right before snapping the reins of his horse but halted his hands when he saw only a single man—a civilian, not an officer or Ranger—running toward them seemingly out of breath.

“Think it’s a trap?” Sly asked quietly.

Curtis wasn’t sure what to think. Then, the man yelped again. “Please, help!”

Help? Curtis thought. He turned to Sly. “I’d hate to fall for the same trick two days in a row,” he groaned. “But this feels different.”

Sly nodded. “Yeah, more genuine. Let’s check it out.”

“Hey!” the man shouted as he slowed his pace and reach the group. He looked to Sly. “Yer attire, you’re a Ranger, right? Please, you have to help us!”

“Yes, of course I am,” Sly said and straightened his posture. He looked to Curtis and Mabel with a wide smile. Curtis sighed.

“There’s an Outlaw,” the man explained. “She’s wreakin’ havoc in town and no one’s been able t’stop ‘er.” The man looked up at the mounted Ranger with pleading eyes. Sly glanced to Curtis and Mabel once more, then stared down at the man.

“Of course,” Sly said again. “Who would I be if I couldn’t help a people in need.” Firefly started walking forward slowly, then turned so Sly could look at the man. “You should stay here, sir. Obviously, things seem dangerous. We’ll take care of it, though; don’t worry!” He looked at the Outlaw in the wagon and gestured with his head toward the middle of town. “Let’s go, Dawn.”

Curtis furrowed his brow; he didn’t like when Sly gave him commands like that, but he didn’t want to leave Proudkeep to suffer. “Oh, thank you!” the man cried as the group made their way into the heart of Proudkeep. “And be careful! She’s a dangerous one!”

Sly rode closer to Curtis and said in a low tone, “Do you think this gal has a Spell?”

“I don’t know,” Curtis groaned. “Maybe. I’m sure we’ll find out more once we find ‘er.”

“So, does Proudkeep really not have its own Rangers?” Mabel asked, climbing out of the wagon and onto the little bench at the front where Curtis sat. “If a town as small as Sunnyville had a Ranger, surely Proudkeep has at least one.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure,” Sly said. “I agree that there should be one here, but maybe they’re not responding for some reason. Like how only the police showed up to Bad Mouth’s robbery, but no Rangers, even though Onyxlanding definitely has several stationed there.”

“Yeah,” Curtis chimed in. “That was weird. I hadn’t thought about it ‘til now. Any idea why they wouldn’t’ve shown up?” Sly shrugged and shook his head. Then, the sound of a crowd caught the Outlaw’s and Ranger’s attention. “Mabel,” Curtis said. “Get back in the carriage. We don’t know what we’re up against.” Mabel sighed frustratingly, but knew Curtis was right. She had been able to help before against foes with weaponry that, while unique, was predictable after a brief study, but if facing someone with a Spell, their powers could be incredibly dangerous and more uncertain. Mabel hid in the hooded cart, but peeked through a small tear in the front of the cloth.

Straight ahead, Curtis and Sly saw a large crowd gathered around a large bank. The bank sat in front of the perpendicular street that ran east from the main road. Law enforcement were standing around outside and keeping the crowd away from the building. “Another bank robbery?” Mabel wondered aloud. “Maybe Rangers just don’t respond to those?” Sly stopped and gestured for Curtis to halt, as well. He rode closer and suggested they switch places: Sly drive the wagon and Curtis ride Firefly.

“Being seen together seems unavoidable here,” Sly stated. “I figure it would be best to make it look like you’re in my custody.” Curtis looked ahead at the crowd. There was a very good chance he would be recognized by the police. He groaned again and reluctantly climbed down from the carriage bench and hopped onto Firefly’s back. Sly tied Firefly’s reins to the back of the carriage with some rope from Curtis’s satchel and handed Curtis some shackle handcuffs.

“Put these on,” the Ranger said. “It has to look genuine. Give me your guns, too.”

“I won’t be able to defend myself very well without weapons, Sly,” Curtis objected.

“Why would a Ranger let a captured crook keep his guns?” Curtis begrudgingly obliged. Sly hopped onto the carriage bench and looked over his shoulder at the closed hood.

“Um, you good back there, Mabel?” he asked. He heard a quiet “Mhm,” from inside. He nodded, then lightly whipped the metal beast’s reins to approach the crowd. Sly hopped down from the carriage once at the edge of the gathering and pushed his way through to the officers in front. “My name is Nathan Bowman,” Sly shouted over the voices in the crowd. “Also known as ‘Sly.’ I’m a Ranger passing through. What’s going on here?”

“Oh, you’re a Ranger,” one officer responded. “I see. Well, we could really use your help.” The officer gestured with his thumb to the bank. “An Outlaw in there has been givin’ us a lot o’ trouble.”

“Can you give me some details?” Sly inquired.

The officer nodded. “We know ‘er. It’s Harley Reynolds; also known as ‘Zapper.’ She has a Spell.”

“What kind of Spell?”

“She has two weapons; as far as we can tell, one o’ them is just a normal six-shooter. The other, however, is a double-barreled pistol that shoots pins attached t’wire. She uses her spell to send electricity through the wire and into the pinned target, stunnin’ ‘em.”

“That’s right, I remember now. I’ve heard of her. How much damage has she done so far? Has she hurt anyone?”

The officer looked at the ground and sighed. “She’s already killed one of the three Rangers stationed here. The other two are injured and bein’ held hostage inside. Luckily, everyone else escaped.”

She took down three Rangers by herself? Sly thought anxiously. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be right back. I think I know someone who can help.” Sly pushed his way back through the crowd and walked to Curtis who still sat on Firefly with his wrists bound. He pulled the bounties pamphlet from his pocket and found Zapper’s name on the list, then explained the situation to Curtis. “Her bounty’s at 11 als flat,” Sly stated.

Curtis nodded. “Sounds really strong. We need to be more cautious than ever with ‘er.”

Sly agreed. He helped Curtis off of Firefly and said he’d unbind the Outlaw once in front of the bank so the police would believe their act more. Curtis wandered over to the carriage and looked into the hood.

“You oughta stay here, Mabel,” he said. “I don’t want anythin’ to happen to ya.”

“What about you, though?” Mabel asked. “I worry about you guys, too.”

“We’ll be all right. We’ve got lots o’ people ‘round here to look after us.” Curtis rested a hand on Mabel’s head and messed up her hair a bit. She gave him a happily annoyed grin. Curtis rejoined Sly and the two made their way to the police again.

“This is another Outlaw I’ve just captured,” Sly said.

“Hey, I recognize him,” the officer said after a moment of looking Curtis up and down. “They call ‘im Dawn, right? He has a dangerous Spell, too, doesn’t ‘e?”

“He’s not as dangerous as the rumors make him sound,” Sly said with a shrug. “He can help, and he will if he knows what’s best for him.” Sly shoved Curtis’s shoulder lightly.

Curtis groaned in pain, then said, “Yeah, whatever.” Sly unlocked Curtis’s shackles grabbed his arm, then guided him forward.

“Be careful!” the officer shouted as the Ranger and Outlaw approached the bank’s doors.

“Did ya really need t’ hit my shoulder?” Curtis said quietly.

“Sorry,” Sly said and winced. “I forgot.”

“Never mind,” Curtis said. “Let’s just see what’s goin’ on inside.”

The two stood on opposite sides of the doors and peeked into the windows that bordered the entrance. From the looks of it, Zapper was nowhere to be seen. The two injured Rangers sat unconscious and tied up next to one of the tellers’ booths to the left from their view. Sly backed away from the window and whispered to Curtis. “Zapper must be in the vault.”

“Looks like it,” Curtis agreed. “We can sneak in an’ try to wake those Rangers. They’ll be useful if Zapper’s as strong as they say she is.” Sly nodded, then slowly opened one door. He glanced around the main room and didn’t see Zapper. He stepped inside with Curtis right behind him, then shut the door behind them.

“Here are your guns,” Sly said, then handed Curtis his revolvers back before sneaking over to the two unconscious Rangers. Curtis noticed in the front right corner from their perspective coming in, a body lying against the wall; it’s back was to the rest of the bank. Blood was smeared along the wall and floor nearby, and a puddle surrounded the body. He could tell it was the third Ranger. Curtis slowly walked to the man and knelt down. He placed a couple of fingers on the body’s neck and felt no pulse. He exhaled slowly.

Meanwhile, Sly knelt next to the other two Rangers and shook them a bit in an attempt to wake them. They both awoke, a man and a woman, and looked around for a moment before remembering where they were. Sly put a finger over his lips before speaking in a whisper. “My name is Sly,” he explained. “I’m a Ranger just passing through town, but it looked like you guys needed help. Is Zapper in the vault?”

The man nodded, and the woman whispered, “She’s incredibly strong; much stronger than we’d heard.”

“Her electricity hurts a lot more than we’d thought it would,” the man chimed in.

“Okay,” Sly said. “What are your names. Do you have weapons on you?”

“My name’s Clayton Flynn,” the man answered. “Call me ‘Wolf.’ I ‘ave a couple flintlocks; they only shoot once before needin’ t’be reloaded, but they pack a punch.”

“I’m Effie Cain,” the woman said. “People call me Effie ‘the Elegant.’ I have a revolver that shoots all six bullets at once.”

“Well, gosh, guys,” Sly said placing a hand on his forehead. “Your reload times were probably long enough to give Zapper a chance to strike.”

“She took our weapons. I think she still has them on ‘er,” Wolf said. He gestured to the corpse that Curtis stood over and said, “We had a third with us. His name was Grover, my brother. We called him ‘Speedy.’” He sniffled, then continued. “He was faster than both us with his four guns. They were regular ol’ revolvers, but he could fire them quicker than anyone I’ve ever known. He was supposed to keep Zapper distracted while we went for the kill shots, but…” Wolf closed his eyes and looked toward the ceiling as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Zapper is lightning fast, as you might assume,” Effie continued, “I’ve never seen anyone so quick and I don’t just mean with her guns. She moves in a flash. Must be part of ‘er Spell or somethin’. It ain’t natural.”

“All right,” Sly said and stood. ‘Let’s get you two untied. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“She didn’t even shoot Speedy,” Wolf muttered as Sly untied him. “One moment he was standin’ ready to fight, and the next, a giant hole was in ‘is chest. I couldn’t tell ya what happened.” Curtis took one more look at Speedy’s body. Death was something Curtis was used to seeing having come from the Southern Slick, but such gruesome wounds were always a hard sight to bear. He tipped his hat as a goodbye, then turned away, but something caught his eye. He turned back and noticed a small metal pin on the back of Speedy’s poncho. He knelt back down and plucked it from the fabric with some difficulty. It was about the size of a thumb tac and was barbed like a fishing hook, and black in color.

He looked toward Sly who had just finished untying Wolf, then noticed someone peering from behind one of the tellers’ booths holding a gun. “Sly, watch out!” Curtis called just before Zapper fired her weapon. Sly noticed just in time and dove out of the way; he pushed Wolf out of the way, as well. Effie still sat on the floor tied up. The pins from Zapper’s gun deflected off the wall, then were retracted on their wires back into the double barrel of the pistol.

“Oh!” Zapper said as she walked out from behind the booth. She looked at Curtis. “I didn’t see you there. The Rangers called for backup I see.”

“You!” Wolf yelled. “You’ll pay fer whatchu did to my brother!”

“Oh my,” Zapper said and placed a hand on her hip while pointing her pistol upward. I didn’t know the fast one was family. I’d have made his death a little less painful if I’d known that.”

Wolf was infuriated. He grunted and clenched his fists. “You son of a—”

“Don’t worry,” Zapper interrupted. “I’ll just do the same thing to you. You’ll see ‘im in no time!”

Zapper started to charge at Wolf, but Curtis fired a bullet from each of his two revolvers. Suddenly, faster than Curtis could even register, Zapper jumped and situated herself horizontally in the air, then spun around in a flash. The bullets flew past her, and she landed on her feet, then she ran toward Curtis. Curtis blinked and flinched as Zapper raised her weapon and fired the pins at Curtis, but he leaped as far as he could to one side. One pin still stuck itself into Curtis’s left arm, though, and electricity shot through the wire and shocked his arm.

Curtis rolled along the ground and the pins were brought back to Zapper. Curtis couldn’t feel his left arm; when he stood again, his arm fell limp and he dropped the revolver held in that hand. He looked up and saw Zapper still charging at him; she jumped and thrusted her feet forward at him. Curtis put up his good arm and blocked the attacked, but grunted from the impact. Zapper landed on her feet with a flash, then lunged at Curtis. He stumbled back and stuck his foot out and tried to trip Zapper. Zapper responded by grabbing Curtis’s poncho and pulling him in for a headbutt.

Curtis closed his eyes and groaned as Zapper broke his nose with her skull. He reached out and wrapped his arm around hers, then pulled her back and flipped her over himself. She twisted around and pulled Curtis’s poncho over his face. She pulled Curtis to the ground, then stood and aimed her gun at the disorientated Outlaw, but again just before Zapper could fire, two bullets whizzed through the air at her. With another flash, she side stepped out of the way easily.

“You all wanna play, don’tcha?” Zapper cheered, then dashed at Sly. Curtis began to stand as he fiddled with his poncho, but as Zapper sped past, she pushed his back and knocked him back onto the ground. In only a second, she appeared in front of Sly ready to strike. She jumped and brought her leg high into the air and kicked Sly in the side of his head sending him stumbling to the ground. She landed gracefully and was about to strike again when Wolf threw several punches at her. She dodged them but was caught off guard by Effie swinging the rope previously used to tie the Ranger up around to trap Zapper. The rope lassoed Zapper, still held by Effie, and Effie pulled Zapper in.

Zapper flung herself backward and slammed into Effie, then kicked one of the Ranger’s knees back and forced her to falter with a screech of pain. Zapper ducked to free herself from the rope and flashed over to Sly who was regaining his composure. She threw three swift punches; the first two landed squarely on Sly’s face, but the Ranger caught the third. Sly twisted Zapper’s wrist to lower her hand, then slammed his head forward into hers. “How do youlike it?” Sly cried as Zapper’s head fell backward. Sly also reached for Zapper’s hips where she kept the other Rangers’ weapons. He grabbed them, but Zapper wasn’t stunned for long and quickly dropped to the ground to sweep at Sly’s feet.

Sly was knocked off balance and tumbled to the ground losing his grip on the other Rangers’ guns, but Wolf sprung forward and caught his gun from the air. He swung at Zapper with it, but she leaped out of the way in the blink of an eye, then countered with a swift kick. Effie rolled to her gun and took aim at Zapper. The Ranger fired and six bullets flew from the six-barreled revolver. Zapper zipped out of the way, but not before two of the bullets pierced Zapper’s right arm. Blood dripped onto the floor.

“I hit her!” Effie cheered before getting a boot to her chest, sending her falling back. Zapper flashed between the three Rangers delivering a blow or two to each of them as she sped around.

“You Rangers!” Curtis shouted. “Down!” Zapper glanced to Curtis who was holding one of his revolvers toward her with his moveable hand. Just as the Rangers around her ducked to the floor, she blinked over to Curtis faster than before—Curtis hadn’t even realized she was in front of him until he fired his weapon—and thrusted Curtis’s arms upward so his bullet landed in the roof. She, then, forced Curtis against the wall keeping his good hand over his head with one of hers.

Curtis huffed. “Right ‘ere?” he teased.

Zapper scoffed in return, then raised her gun with her free and said, “Never shocked anyone point-blank before.”

“I ain’t gon’ be the first,” Curtis exclaimed, then brought his knee up to strike Zapper. Zapper met Curtis’s knee with the back end of her gun. Curtis grunted in pain, then threw his arm down to break from Zapper’s grip. He shoved Zapper as hard as he could with one arm, but she didn’t stay away for long and bounced right back to him throwing him down with all her might. Curtis slammed to the ground, then was pinned again by Zapper. The two outlaws rolled around on the floor for a few moments.

“I recognize you,” Zapper said during the scuffle. “You’re called Dawn, right? You have a pretty high bounty; why’re you helpin’ out these Rangers?”

Curtis groaned. “Can’t we just talk this out?”

Zapper chuckled at that response and continued the struggle with Curtis for a few more moments. “You ain’t so tough,” she scoffed. “You ain’t worth that bounty! You have a Spell don’tcha? Show me!”

“You don’t know who you’re messin’ with,” Curtis grunted. Zapper’s attention was drawn away from Curtis for a second when she heard a distinct click. She glanced over to see Wolf cocking the hammer on his flintlock pistol, but he didn’t fire. A gunshot came from somewhere else; Zapper flashed away from Curtis just as six bullets simultaneously bored into the ground right next to him. Curtis gasped and turned his head to see Effie aiming toward him.

“You almost hit Dawn,” Sly said nervously and looked at Effie.

“You can bring ‘im in dead, can’tcha?” she replied with a shrug. Effie pulled from her belt a pin holding six bullets in a circle around the center. She flicked the large barrel of her gun forward and slid the pin perfectly into the six-slotted cylindar, then release the bullets from the pin, tossed the pin aside, and flicked the barrel of her gun back up and cocked the hammer. Zapper flashed to the center of the room and looked to the Rangers who were more spread out by then.

That was actually close, Zapper thought. I gotta pay more attention to these folks. “I can’t leave any o’ y’all alone, can I?” she said with a grin.

“Now’s our chance,” Wolf growled.

“Dawn,” Sly called. “Follow my lead!” Sly fired three bullets at Zapper, alternating between his two seven-shot revolvers, followed immediately by Wolf’s single-shot flintlock.

“Oh, I gotcha,” Curtis mumbled, then raised his good arm and aimed at Zapper. Zapper zipped between Sly’s three bullets and avoided Wolf’s shot, but Curtis followed suit with three shots from his revolver immediately succeeded by Effie’s next round. Sly then emptied his revolvers as Curtis finished his first, then retrieved his second and copied Sly. Effie loaded her last bullets and fired between Sly and Curtis’s rounds. Zapper, concentrating intensely on her opponents’ shots and seemingly sporadic pattern, danced through the storm of bullets at lightning speed, and after all of the gunshots ceased, remained in the middle of the room where she stood completely unscathed by the flurry of lead.

Her arm still bled from Effie’s successful attack earlier, but no new wounds scarred her flesh. The Outlaw stood with her shoulders lowered and panting, beads of sweat dripping for her forehead and chin. She raised her head and glanced around the room and took pleasure in seeing shocked expressions all around. “N-no way,” Effie stuttered.

“She—” Sly choked.

I did it, Zapper thought. I dodged them all. She swallowed deeply and took a deep breath. “That’s it,” she panted. “I’m ending this right now!”

“Don’t be so sure,” Curtis spouted, feigning confidence. “We aren’t goin’ t’give up that easily!” And just like that, he—PANG! Curtis fell backward; the fall felt like it took minutes both from his perspective and from the view of his Ranger allies. Sly watched in horror as Curtis’s confident expression slowly morphed into one of shock. The Rangers stared as blood flowed like a waterfall from a massive hole in the right side of Curtis’s chest; much of the wound was cauterized like a ball of fire bored through his ribs and lung, but it was such a large wound that blood still spewed forth. Curtis was unconscious before he hit the ground. Sly turned to Wolf and Effie who also looked on in awe.

Then, just like with Curtis, in a flash, Wolf had a similar wound in his stomach—much like that of his fallen brother’s—and he also fell hard to the ground. That’s when Sly noticed something on the back of Effie’s poncho: a small, metal pin.

“What is—” Sly barely got the words out before Effie, too, was struck in the shoulder by the same force as Curtis and Wolf had been. As quickly as he could, Sly pulled the shoulder of his poncho over his front and found a pin tacked to him, too, so he cast his poncho aside just as it had a hole blasted through it. It wasn’t until the explosive noise and blinding flashes had ceased that Sly realized what had happened. Zapper once again stood in the middle of the room and looked around at the bleeding bodies scattered about the bank. An evil grin overtook her face.

She looked at Sly, then at the scorched poncho on the ground. She chuckled. “Smart,” she said to Sly. “I’m surprised y’figured it out in time. Doesn’t matter, though; yer friends’ll all be dead in a few minutes and you don’t stand a chance against me by yerself.”

“Go, go!” a voice called from the front of the bank.

Just then, twenty-or-so police officers stormed into the bank through the front door. They organized themselves around the main room close to the walls. Zapper smirked. “Well, what a darned shame,” Zapper teased. “I’d love to stick around, but I have better places t’be. See y’round” She flashed over to the sacks of gold and alloy coins she had stashed behind the counters when she first exited the vault, then flashed through a window which shattered a moment later; a streak of what looked like lightning followed her path, but she was too fast for the police to catch, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

The remaining officers then gathered the injured Curtis, Effie, and Wolf, and retreated from the building after determining that the three of them were still alive. They offered to assist Sly to the hospital, but he declined and watched as the officers declared their beloved local Ranger, Grover “Speedy” Flynn, dead.

***

Curtis’s eyes opened slowly and he looked toward a blurry ceiling; Sly stood beside the bed and Mabel leaned over the other side. Curtis gently looked back and forth between the two of them, closed his eyes for a few more moments, then opened them again to clearer vision. He noticed that his chest was wrapped in bandages. A doctor stood at the foot of the bed; he smiled. “Hello, Mr. Conrad,” the doctor started; his accent was that of someone from the Ridge, just like Sly’s. “My name is Doctor London Richardson. You’re in a hospital in Proudkeep.” Dr. Richardson gestured to Sly and Mabel saying, “You’ve been out for quite a while, but these two have been awake and waiting the whole time.

“I understand that you’re a highly wanted Outlaw and that trust is not something your kind has a lot of, but I need you to believe me when I say that I do not discriminate against any of my patients and that I will do everything in my power to make you better.”

“I need you to do everything you can to heal him,” Sly stated firmly. “You understand? I get a better reward if he’s alive.”

The doctor nodded. Curtis lifted his head slightly, then winced with pain. “Oh, please don’t move,” Dr. Richardson said. “Your body is in a very fragile state right now. We don’t want to put any more stress on it.”

“I… can’t breathe,” Curtis choked out.

Dr. Richardson nodded, then said, “You need to take short, shallow breaths so as not to expand your lungs too much. If you tear the tissue that stopped the bleeding, it’ll be hard to keep you alive if I’m being quite frank.”

Mabel looked at the doctor with a worried expression, and Curtis looked with slight annoyance. Curtis slowly turned to Sly, practicing his breathing, and asked, “Where’s Zapper?”

“She escaped,” Sly said with slight hesitation. “She almost killed you, Wolf, and Effie. Would’ve gotten me, too, if I hadn’t noticed the pins she was using to guide her lightning abilities.” Sly held up a small, metal pin. Curtis faced the doctor again and asked how long he had been out for.

“It’s been about 10 hours since you arrive here,” Dr. Richardson said. “In that time, we performed surgery to remove your broken ribs so they wouldn’t pierce your lung anymore, and we managed to stitch up your lung…as best as we could, anyway.” The doctor turned to Sly. “It’s rather late. We should let Mr. Conrad rest some more; you could use some sleep, as well.”

Sly sighed, then nodded. He gestured for Mabel to follow him, then exited the room after saying, “Better not move if you know what’s good for you, Dawn.” It sounded like a threat, but Curtis knew it was genuine and the tone was just an act. The doctor brought a small cup of gray liquid to Curtis.

“Drink this,” he said. “It’ll help your body heal faster while you sleep.” He tilted the cup into Curtis’s mouth and let small amounts of the liquid flow down the Outlaw’s throat at a time.

“What was that?” Curtis asked softly. “Better not be any o’ that snake oil stuff I’ve been hearin’ about.”

“No, no,” Dr. Richardson chuckled. “It’s genuine medicine, I promise. Now get some sleep.” The doctor walked over to the single lantern lighting the room and cupped the flame with the lantern’s lid, then exited the room. Curtis fell asleep less than a minute later. The doctor walked down the hall and noticed a nurse heading in the opposite direction. “Oh,” Dr. Richardson said gesturing to the nurse. “Could you keep an eye on that patient tonight?” he asked pointing to the door to Curtis’s room. “He’s in really bad shape; just want to make sure he makes it through the night, you know? And please change his bandages when you get the chance.”

The nurse nodded. The doctor thanked the nurse and continued on his way. The nurse approached Curtis’s room and opened the door slowly. Their footsteps were soft as they walked over to Curtis’s bed. They withdrew a crumpled wanted poster from their pocket and unfolded it; Curtis was pictured. The nurse folded the paper back into their pocket and stepped away from the bed to retrieve more bandages from the cabinet in the room, then returned to Curtis’s side. They gently pulled the bedsheets down below Curtis’s chest and unwrapped the front of the bandages. Curtis’s chest was in horrible condition. The ocean of dried blood was black and the wound was poorly stitched and burnt badly. The nurse hovered a hand over Curtis’s chest. A soft glow came from the nurse’s palm. Then, after a minute, the nurse replaced Curtis’s bandages and left the room.

The next morning, Curtis awoke to Dr. Richardson opening the door and saying, “Let’s see if he’s awake,” in a quiet voice. Sly and Mabel followed him into the room. He apologized when he noticed that Curtis was awake. “I hope wedidn’t wake you,” he said. Curtis lied still for a moment, then noticed that it didn’t hurt when he breathed anymore. He started taking deeper and deeper breaths; Dr. Richardson’s expression grew concerned. Curtis lifted himself and sat up in the bed. The doctor gasped and rushed over, urging Curtis to lie back down.

“Hold on,” Curtis said. “I… I feel good.” He took a couple more deep breaths, then poked at this chest before patting it loudly. He tore at the bandages on his chest and revealed that the wound underneath was completely healed. He also rolled his right shoulder around and exclaimed, “My shoulder don’t even hurt anymore.” He looked to the bedside table next to him and picked up the small cup the doctor had used to pour the medicine into his mouth the night before. “Damn, Doc,” he said. “What was in this stuff? I feel completely better!” Dr. Richardson was at a loss for words. He stood with his mouth open and his arms dangling by his sides.

“You’re a real miracle worker,” Sly said with astonishment.

“I’m glad to see you’ve recuperated,” Mabel said rushing to Curtis’s bedside.

“I guess you’re good to go, then, Dawn?” Sly asked. Curtis nodded and grinned widely. “Great,” Sly said, then tossed Curtis his tunic and poncho, both of which had gaping holes where Curtis was struck.

The doctor still stood speechless, but Curtis and the gang didn’t want to stick around for long, so they gathered their things and made their way to the door.

“I—uh—well—it’s, uh,” Dr. Richardson stuttered.

“Put the bill on my official Ranger tab,” Sly said.

“Uh… yes sir,” the doctor said.

“Thanks, Doc,” Curtis said as he exited.

“Always happy to help, I guess…” Dr. Richardson replied with hesitation.

Outside, Curtis, Sly, and Mabel situated themselves in the positions they held when approaching the bank, shackles around Curtis’s wrists and all. As they rode out of town, they passed the bank and saw the police gathered at the scene. They didn’t stop but noticed a memorial taking place for Speedy; Wolf and Effie weren’t in attendance. “I guess the other Rangers are still hospitalized,” Curtis remarked.

“Why didn’t the doctor just give ‘em the same stuff he did you?” Mabel wondered aloud.

Curtis shrugged. “Probably expensive stuff if it’s capable of this,” Curtis said gesturing to his woundless body. “You sure yer tab’ll cover it?” he asked Sly.

Sly didn’t answer; he was watching the service as the carriage rode slowly past. He then turned to Curtis. “Zapper’s Spell…” he said. “I’d never seen anything like it. She couldn’t just control electricity—which was already powerful enough—but it was like she could flow with it, or maybe transform her body into it? I don’t know.”

“I’ve heard of some pretty powerful Spells in my day,” Curtis said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of some,” Sly replied. “But I honestly didn’t believe they were real. Crazy to think powers like that actually exist.”

“I have a feelin’ that won’t be the only incredibly strong Outlaw we face on our journey,” Curtis said somberly. “We got lucky this time. We just need to be even more careful about who we choose to fight, if we have a choice.”

Sly and Mabel nodded in agreeance. The group didn’t talk again until reaching the edge of town, when Sly said, “So, I deposited a bunch of our cash into the bank, and I bought a real map like you suggested.”

Sly held up a clean map showing the entirety of the Mesa Frontier. Curtis smirked. “How much coin do we have left with us?” Curtis asked.

“Fifteen silver, 20 dimes, and five pennies,” Sly listed.

“Fair enough,” Curtis said.

“Also, I asked around a bit about Midnight while you were out. Nobody knew anything.”

“Thanks. Didn’t really have much time to do that in Proudkeep, huh?” Curtis chuckled.

After a moment of silence, Mabel spoke suddenly. “I couldn’t tell you how worried I was,” she said staring at the floor of the carriage.

Curtis placed a hand on her head, then said, “I told ya, we can handle ourselves. Everythin’ turned out all right.”

“Yeah,” Mabel agreed. “But you said yerself that you just got lucky. What if… what if things had been different…”

Curtis sighed and leaned against the hood of the wagon. “Listen, kid,” he said. “Doin’ what we’re doin’ is incredibly dangerous. I know you worry, but honestly, it’s pointless when any day could be our last. All I want is fer you t’be safe. As long as you’re not in harm’s way, I don’t care what happens t’me or Sly. Once my life flashes before my eyes, then I’ll start worryin’.”

Mabel smiled, then said, “I’ll try to worry less.”

Curtis smiled, too, then shouted to Sly sitting in front. “Hey! When’re you gonna take these cuffs off o’ me?”

Sly cackled from the front of the carriage and Mabel giggled. “Sorry,” Sly called back as he slowed the carriage to a stop. “I guess we don’t need them anymore, do we?”

Click here for a map of the journey so far.

Mabel cleaned up the mess kits after breakfast while Curtis and Sly packed up camp. It had already been a day since they left Proudkeep and they were approaching the next town called Tangate to the north. They decided to play it safe and camp a few miles outside of town in case any trouble awaited them. They couldn’t quite see the town on the horizon yet, but they knew they were close. They could see the eastern wall of the Valley Strip; Tangate was situated right up against the cliffs that closed in the Valley from the east. After the group was packed and ready for the rest of their journey to Tangate, Mabel appeared through the hood of the carriage and asked, “So, as you were sayin’ about Rangers with Spells…”

Curtis whipped the reins on his horse, then said “Oh yeah, forgot we were talkin’ ‘bout that.”

“Do y’know of any in particular?”

“As far as I know, the Doyens are the only Rangers with Spells—which are granted by the government—but Sly might know more than me.”

“The Doyens are the only ones authorized to use Spells,” Sly said from atop Firefly. “I’ve heard rumors of other Rangers with Spells, but they aren’t allowed to use them on duty.”

“And I guess there could be some,” Curtis added, “that don’t know they have Spells; naïve like I was growin’ up.”

“It’s always possible,” Sly said.

“I only know the names of a couple Doyens,” Curtis said. “I know Armani Anderson, obviously, who’s probably trackin’ our every move.” Sly chuckled at that, and Mabel did, too, though slightly uncomfortable at the thought. “Then,” Curtis continued, “there’s Solomon Burts. He’s been a Doyen at least since Midnight adopted me. I don’t really know much about either of ‘em. I could guess at their Spells by their nicknames, but that’s as good as I have.”

Sly nodded. “There are always five Doyens,” he said holding up a hand with all of its fingers extended. “Typically, they all hang out around the Big City and just send lesser Rangers in their groups to do the dirty work—like with Armani Anderson and the Band of Lovers. I don’t know any of the Doyens’ Spells; they’re kept off the public record and I’ve never seen any of them used in person aside from Silver Tongue, but like you said, we could take some guesses. Armani “Lady Love” Anderson: probably something to do with charms, maybe similar to yours and Silver Tongue’s. That would make sense since she was his apprentice for a while.

“Dewey “Angel Eyes” Vinson: not too sure; all I know is that he keeps his eyes closed all the time and when he opens them, they glow a blinding white. Nicholas “Gore” Shepard: something to do with his blood, but the rumors are all different. Solomon “Wildfire” Burts: he can control fire, but I don’t know to what extent. Finally, Frank “the Cobra” Stewart: honestly, I have no idea, but—”

Boosh…

“What was that?” Mabel asked after a moment of silence.

“Sounded like an explosion,” Curtis said, looking around the desert.

Boosh…!

“There!” Mabel shouted, pointing east toward the cliffs. Curtis and Sly noticed, then, a cloud of sand slowly falling as if it had been blown into the air just moments before.

“Wonder what that could be,” Curtis said.

“I don’t think there’s any mining going on this close to the cliffs,” Sly stated.

“Think it’s an Outlaw?” Mable asked.

“I’ve had my fill of fights this week,” Curtis groaned. “I could use a break.”

“If there’s another bad guy to bag,” Sly stated. “I can’t, in good conscience, let them run around causing trouble.”

Curtis let out a long sigh. “Okay, mister wanna-be-Outlaw. If you really want to start livin’ a life on the run, then you’re gonna have to start lettin’ stuff like this go.”

“I’m not technically on the run just yet,” Sly said, then started leading Firefly east.

“Fine,” Curtis groaned. “But once you’ve got yer own bounty, we’re skippin’ some o’ these.” Curtis guided his horse east and followed Sly toward the cloud of sand. As they approached the cliff, the group noticed a man huddled close to the ground; he used a short stick with a cup-shape at the far end to toss a fist-sized ball about fifty feet away from himself and plugged his ears with his fingers. A few seconds later, the ball exploded and sand was kicked into the air.

“Mabel,” Curtis said. “Duck inside the cart.” Mabel obeyed.

Sly rode closer to Curtis and leaned in to say, “Check out this guy.”

Curtis nodded. “He’s up to no good; I can feel it.” The party got closer and closer to the man tossing explosive balls, then called out between blasts. “Hey, partner,” Curtis said. “What’chu doin’ out here blowin’ fireworks?”

“Do you have something to celebrate?” Sly chipped in. The man turned, his scrawny physique on full display without a shirt and only short pants that looked to have been torn. He wore boots, too, and a glove on his right hand, but his attire was generally ragged and mistreated. He had dark skin and dark frizzy hair, and a grin full of jagged teeth. When he turned, he displayed a worn out, lumpy satchel over his shoulder presumably filled with more explosives. His smile was crooked and his eyes looked as though they hadn’t been shut in hours, but he blinked slowly after seeing Curtis and Sly. Then, he nodded frantically.

“Well,” he said in a shrill voice and stopped nodding. “Nothing yet, but tomorrow there’ll be a big show!”

“A show?” Curtis asked, confused.

“Here?” Sly shouted to the man whose eyes flicked back and forth between the Outlaw and Ranger.

“Not here,” the man said and pointed into the desert. “That way.”

“In Tangate?” Sly asked, and the man nodded quickly. “Hmph. What kind of show?”

“Fireworks!” the man said, shaking one of the balls in his hand. Curtis and Sly could see now that the ball was wrapped in fabric, presumably from a shirt or another article of clothing. The man turned around and loaded the ball into the stick, then launched the ball toward the cliff. It exploded a few moments later. Curtis leaned over to Sly.

“This guy’s definitely crazy,” he whispered, then called to the man, “What’s yer name, friend?”

“Mason Haynes!” the man answered.

“All right, Dynamite,” Curtis said. He leaned over to Sly again. “What d’ya think?”

“I say we play nice,” Sly replied in a quiet voice. “We can get his bombs away from him, then turn him in at Tangate.” Sly sat straight atop Firefly and called to Mason. “Why don’t you come with us? We’re still a little way out from Tangate, so it’ll be quicker if you come with us. Then, you’ll have some time to relax before this firework show you’re talking about.”

Mason seemed to think about it for a second, then shook his head saying, “Nah, I’ll go when I’m ready.” Mason turned back around and chucked another explosive into the distance before it exploded. Sly and Curtis both took note of the blast radius; it wasn’t very large. The explosion only sent dust flying in a radius of about ten feet, and there didn’t appear to be any shrapnel to worry about. Sly tried again.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s a free ride in our wagon. Our horses are pretty fast and you’ll be out of the sun.”

Mason paused, then looked over his shoulder. “Horse and wagon, huh?” he said and glanced at the party’s accommodations. “Well…” he said. “Actually, sure! I’ll go with ya! Just let me gather my stuff.”

“I’ll help you,” Sly said and rode over on Firefly, then dismounted the horse and began helping Mason collect the scraps lying around him.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Mason howled. “Grab those, too!” he commanded and pointed to a couple of small purses. While Mason was busy grabbing other miscellaneous bits and pieces scattered about the scene, Sly took a quick peek inside the purses to find one full of black powder and the other with long fuses. Sly hadn’t noticed Mason lighting any fuses, but he guessed that they still played some part in the activation of the explosives. Once all of Mason’s scraps were gathered into his satchel, Sly led him to the wagon before tying Firefly to the side so he could lead Curtis’s horse up front. Curtis told Mabel to sit in one of the corners closest to the back of the wagon where they usually got in and out of it.

He then rearranged their belongings inside to force “Dynamite”—as he was calling him—to sit in the farthest corner away from Mabel before sitting next to the girl himself. When Dynamite climbed into the carriage, he swayed over to the corner Curtis had left open and plopped onto the bench. He put his satchel full of explosives and explosive ingredients onto the ground between his feet. Curtis knelt and reached for the satchel saying, “Here, we can put that with our stuff on the bench here.”

Dynamite wrapped his feet around the satchel as Curtis grabbed it and prevented the Outlaw from moving it, then said, “No, that’s okay. I’ll hold it in my lap.” Dynamite lifted the satchel and let it rest on his thighs as Curtis cleared his throat and straightened up again where he sat. The group and their new companion rode through the scorching desert. The only relief from the heat was the carriage and the occasional boulder protruding from the sand that cast a small shadow on the grains. Sly borrowed Mabel’s hat to fan himself with on the bench up front. Mabel tried sneaking glances at Dynamite occasionally, but he noticed and grinned widely at her. Mabel smiled back slightly, then looked away and out the back of the carriage. Dynamite reached into his satchel and rummaged around.

The sound of the balls clacking together drew Mabel’s attention back to Dynamite, and gave Curtis a clue about what they were made of. From the sound, he guessed thin plastic, or perhaps papier-mâché. Dynamite pulled one of the round explosives from the bag and handed it toward Mabel. “Do you like fireworks?” he asked.

Curtis put a hand toward the bomb and pushed it back toward Dynamite and said “She’s not quite old enough for dangerous stuff like that.”

Dynamite nodded slowly and returned the bomb to his satchel. “Yes,” he said, looking at Mabel, “She does seem quite young.”

Curtis furrowed his brow a bit and sniffled. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m guessin’ you aren’t from Tangate, then.”

“Nah,” Dynamite said. “I’m from Onyxlandin’, but I had to go somewhere else once they shut down the mines.” Curtis breathed steadily, but his body tensed up. Mabel felt uncomfortable, as well, knowing Dynamite was in the same situation that Bad Mouth was in. “But, y’know,” Dynamite continued, “it’s been real hard to find a stable job since havin’ t’leave the mines. Nobody wants t’hire someone whose only skills are whackin’ away at dirt and breathin’ in bad air.” Dynamite glared at Curtis. “Do you know what it’s like not havin’ anywhere to go and havin’ no one who cares for ya, not even the Government?”

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Curtis answered. “I was homeless for a long time, but then I decided to travel. Soon enough, I found people who cared for me, or at least who seem to like me enough to keep me around. I don’t know where I’d be without ‘em.”

Dynamite looked at Mabel again, but this time with anger. “Oh yeah?” he said, then looked at Curtis again. “Like yer friend up front? The Ranger?” Curtis swallowed at that and tensed up even more. “I recognize the attire of Rangers,” Dynamite stated. “It’s a hell-of-a-lot nicer than what commonfolk can afford. And they got their fancy arm bands. I recognize you, too. What are you two doin’ travelin’ together, hm? I know y’ain’t his captive, otherwise you’d be bound head t’toe with a bounty like yers. What deal did y’all strike?”

“No deal,” Curtis said, maintaining eye contact with Dynamite. A bead of sweat crawled down the side of his face. “Like I said, I found people who like me enough t’keep me ‘round.”

“No…” Dynamite murmured. “No, no, that’s crap! You’re sharin’ bounties, aren’t ya?”

“What?” Curtis said genuinely surprised, but also feigning confusion.

“Yeah, y’are! See, I may not be smart or good with fine details, but I’m an observant fella! I knew the mines were gonna be shuttin’ down, so I got out early. That’s also why I know Tangate would be a vulnerable but unexpected place to cause some damage later on!” Sly overheard the ruckus and glanced over his shoulder at the hood, but he couldn’t see inside. Dynamite reached into his bag with his gloved hand and pulled out one of the explosives.

“No, wait—!” Curtis cried.

“And I ain’t gonna let anyone stop me!” Dynamite howled as he rubbed the thumb of his gloved finger over a small bump on the ball. Curtis noticed that Dynamite’s glove had a rough surface on the thumb that allowed him to light the wick of the bomb that barely stuck out from the cloth around it. As the wick ignited and started sparking before disappearing into the ball, Curtis swiftly pushed Mabel and forced her from the back of the cart. Dynamite dropped the bomb on the floor before also launching himself from the cart, tearing through the fabric of the hood and bringing his satchel with him. The bomb inside the wagon exploded ripping the hood of the cart to shreds and forcing Sly from the bench in front. Firefly cried out and tried to pull away from the cart, but it’s tie prevented it from running away. Curtis’s horse remained calm.

Mabel rolled along the sand as the cart continued forward for a couple of seconds before exploding. Her ears rang intensely; it was all she could hear. Dynamite slowed himself to a stop on the ground and watched the cart get yanked by Firefly and topple over. He could see Sly on the ground ahead of where the cart was going, still moving. He figured he wouldn’t get all of them with one blast, but he was dissatisfied that he didn’t at least kill the girl, too. He thought about blowing her up right then but thought that it would be better to take care of the Ranger first. He hoisted his satchel onto his shoulder and slowly moved toward Sly. As Dynamite approached, Sly lifted himself to his hands and knees. His head hurt and his vision wasn’t clear. He could hear a gentle thumping as Dynamite stomped over. Sly turned and quickly reached for his revolvers on his hips, but Dynamite kicked his hands and stomped on his chest.

Sly opened his mouth as if to yell, but only gurgling came out. He curled up in the sand and coughed. Curtis’s horse stood motionless—having broken free from its constraints—right next to the groveling Ranger. Dynamite stood over the Ranger and stared downward. “Rangers like you were part of the reason ex-miners had to leave Onyxlandin’,” Dynamite said with a snarl in his voice. “When there wasn’t enough housin’ outside o’ the mine, Rangers forced the people who’d just lost their jobs to go somewhere else!” He kicked Sly’s guns farther away, then kicked his stomach again. Sly’s head hurt even more. “Y’know, if I’d never heard ‘bout that Benjamin Rivera fella, I probably wouldn’t have gotten the nerve to challenge the Government like this.”

Meanwhile in the wreckage of the cart, Curtis tore through the hood of the fallen wagon. He crawled out from the toppled carriage and lied on the sand for a moment, letting his vision refocus and waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop. His body hurt all over. He noticed some blood trickling from the top of his head; he wasn’t sure if it was from the explosion or the cart falling. He lifted himself to his feet, then ducked back down to his knees when he saw Dynamite approaching Sly. Curtis poked his head back under the hood and tried to find his revolvers which must have fallen from their holsters during the commotion, but with blurry vision and a terrible headache, he could barely keep track of his own hands as they scrambled through the mess of supplies that got scattered in the explosion.

But as his hearing and vision became clearer, Curtis noticed Sly’s revolvers as they slid on the sand. One of them landed next to the carriage while the other slid farther away. Curtis crawled as quietly as he could to the revolver near the cart. Firefly lied on the ground only a few feet away making noise as he flailed about trying to break free from his tie, so it was easy for Curtis to stealthily navigate to the weapon. He overheard as Sly told Dynamite about Bad Mouth’s arrest, but didn’t pay much mind to it as he picked up the seven-shot revolver. He felt that it was noticeably heavier than his own gun. He had always thought that the extra bullet wasn’t worth the hassle of the extra weight, but it was his only option then.

He held the gun away from himself and peeked over the carriage to see Dynamite kicking Sly on the ground. Curtis sighed and felt a sharp pain in his skull but did his best to ignore it. He stood and leaned against the fallen wagon to steady himself for a shot. “Hey, Dynamite!” he yelled. Dynamite stopped beating Sly and looked to the wagon, surprised to see Curtis still alive. That made him even less satisfied with the explosion. Curtis tried aiming at Dynamite, but found it difficult to point straight. His vision wasn’t completely recovered and he kept seeing multiple of everything, including Dynamite. He took the shot. The bullet whizzed through the air and missed Dynamite by a comfortable distance. Dynamite laughed. “Ha! You’re all dazed from the blast,” he cried. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with you in a minute.” Dynamite knelt down to beat on Sly some more, then heard another gunshot from Curtis.

This time, the bullet only narrowly missed Dynamite’s head. The crazed miner stood and glared at Curtis. Without a word, he withdrew a bomb from his satchel and ignited the fuse with his glove, then tossed it with his hand toward Curtis. The ball landed just a few feet from the Outlaw and hissed ferociously. Curtis’s eyes widened and he dove away from the wagon just as the bomb exploded sending sand and wood splinters into the air. Dynamite sighed, then turned back to Sly. “I guess I oughta hurry this up, huh?” he said, mostly to himself. Dynamite retrieved another bomb and ignited its fuse. He dropped it next to Sly who hadn’t moved for a while, then walked away from the Ranger and toward Curtis. Curtis opened his eyes after the bomb near him went off and saw Dynamite approaching as an explosion went off behind him, right where Sly was lying. His breath escaped him.

“No,” he mouthed. Curtis clenched his teeth and tried to stand, but he kept stumbling, and his headache grew worse by the minute. Mabel watched from afar as the explosion hid Sly in a cloud of sand.

“No…” she said, too. Then she looked to Curtis and screamed, “Curt—!” Her voice stopped. She coughed as sand blew past her in the wind and tears formed in her eyes. Curtis slowly balanced himself on his own feet and looked to Dynamite who had stopped only a few yards in front of the Outlaw.

“Damn,” Curtis grunted. “Those things pack a punch up close.”  Curtis coughed and wheezed. A grin crept along Dynamite’s face which soon led to unhinged laughter.

“You’re a slippery fella, aren’t ya!” he howled. “I don’t know how that first bomb didn’t kill ya, but that just means this’ll be fun!”

Curtis raised Sly’s gun once more, but Dynamite lunged forward and pushed Curtis back to the ground with ease. He stepped on Curtis’s hand holding the gun, shooting pain into Curtis’s whole arm as the metal dug into his palm. Curtis beared the pain and reached for Dynamite’s satchel. Dynamite chuckled and pulled away. “Oh, no siree!” He laughed. “You can’t have those!” Curtis held his breath and prepared for the pain. He jolted upward and reached for Dynamite’s arm, his own hand searing from the pressure of Dynamite’s foot. He grabbed Dynamite’s wrist and pulled the crazed man downward; Curtis threw his head at Dynamite’s, knocking the miner back and causing him to stumble. Curtis’s hand was released and allowed the Outlaw to crawl a few feet away as Dynamite recoiled from the blow. Luckily, the pain in his hand sobered him up, so his vision and hearing were back to normal.

Curtis sprang to his feet and ran at Dynamite before he had recovered from the headbutt. Curtis grabbed at Dynamite’s satchel, but the miner wouldn’t let go. Dynamite swung a fist at Curtis while holding the satchel in his other hand. Curtis took the blow and returned with his own punch while keeping one hand on the satchel, as well. Curtis and Dynamite struggled like this for a minute before Curtis finally broke the satchel free from Dynamite’s grip and ripped the strap off his shoulder. “Aha!” Curtis exclaimed as the satchel was flung about fifteen feet away from the two of them, trailing a couple of explosives behind it as it went. Dynamite was furious. He screamed and tackled Curtis into the sand again. Dynamite flung his arms up before slamming them down again onto Curtis’s face. Curtis blocked with his arms as best as he could, but knew he would have to switch to offense to get Dynamite off of him.

Curtis forced his leg underneath Dynamite and forced him off, tossing him a few feet away, but immediately he realized that he pushed Dynamite closer to his satchel. Curtis quickly stood and began to run toward the satchel, but saw Dynamite pick up an explosive off the ground and ignite it. He threw it at Curtis who lunged out of the way before it exploded. Dynamite picked up another, ignited it, and threw it. Curtis dove out of the way again, but was no closer to the satchel as Dynamite crept over to it. With his satchel in hand, Dynamite repeatedly took bombs from it and threw them at Curtis forcing the Outlaw to move farther and farther away. Mabel watched in horror as Curtis lost progress toward defeating Dynamite, then turned and stared again at the cloud of dust that fell where Sly was lying.

Curtis turned and began to run away from Dynamite who continued tossing bombs. As Curtis ran, bombs landed on either side of him and exploded once he was just out of range. Curtis dove behind one of the scattered boulders and pressed his back against it. He breathed heavily and raised Sly’s revolver. Before he could stand to take a shot from cover, however, a cloth-wrapped ball landed behind the boulder with him. He swiftly picked it up with his free hand and threw it as hard as he could. The bomb exploded only a few feet away from Curtis and sent his hand recoiling back in pain. He pressed his hand against his chest with his other arm, but knew he had to act quickly. He prepared himself to stand and shoot, but just then a shadow was cast over him.

Curtis looked up to see Dynamite flying through the air after jumping from the boulder Curtis was using as cover. Time seemed to slow as Curtis watched Dynamite ignite an explosive in his gloved hand. Suddenly, Curtis was in a field. He blinked and realized that it was Midnight’s farm in Dry Creek. Midnight stood beside him and spoke. “It is difficult to train without unknowing targets,” he said to the younger Curtis. “I can allow your Spell to affect me to a degree, but because I know it’s coming, my mind wants to resist.” He placed a hand on Curtis’s shoulder. “In time, you will get stronger. Just never forget that the world does not tolerate cowards; cowards die when they give up.” Curtis saw Dynamite’s feral smile.

Why am I remembering that now? Curtis thought, but then he cut his breath short. My life…It’s…

Near the carriage, the sand settled and Sly rose from the ground unscathed by the bomb that exploded just a few minutes before. He dashed toward the boulder that Curtis hid behind and called, “Dawn!”

Mabel jerked her head to face the Ranger. “Sly?” she yelled.

“Now, you die!” Dynamite howled to Curtis while holding the ignited bomb. Before he could throw it, however, a gunshot fired. The sound echoed through the dry desert air as blood poured from Dynamite’s chest. The bullet had pierced directly through Dynamite’s heart. Dynamite fell from the sky, blood leaking onto the sand from his chest and now his mouth, and the bomb rolled from his hand and away from the boulder before exploding. Curtis held the seven-shot revolver with both hands; his finger was still on the trigger.  Curtis exhaled slowly as a single small blue rock thrush soared against the great blue sky. Sly stopped in his tracks and watched Dynamite’s lifeless body get knocked slightly by the explosion. Mabel stared at Curtis as he stood from behind the rock and looked at Dynamite’s corpse.

Sly blinked a few times, then ran to Curtis, and Mabel followed. When they reached the Outlaw, he was still standing over Dynamite. Sly and Mabel stopped a short distance away from Curtis, then Sly slowly approached.

“He’s…” Mabel whimpered.

“You killed him,” Sly said.

Curtis shrugged and mumbled, “Not like I haven’t killed anyone before.”

“You and me both,” Sly admitted. He watched Curtis. The Outlaw’s eyes were pointed at Dynamite, but he was looking elsewhere. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Curtis replied with a small nod. “Just would’ve preferred not to is all…" Mabel watched Curtis with a sorrowful stare. She could tell he was bothered by the kill and realized that, despite the constant threat of death, neither Curtis nor Sly had killed anyone for as long as she was with them. It was only a short time, but they had had plenty of opportunity—and reason—to do so. Yet each of their opponents in that week had been left alive after each conflict.

“Understandable,” Sly responded.

“How’d you survive the explosion over there?” Curtis asked.

“Oh, well, your metallic steed actually stepped in front of me and shielded me from the blast.”

“It did?”

“Yeah. Lucky, too. If it hadn’t, I definitely would’ve been done.”

“Hmph, that’s the first I’ve ever heard of it voluntarily helpin’ anyone. I’ve used it as a shield before, but that’s just because it normally just stands there. It’s never moved to help me before unless I command it to attack someone or somethin’.”

Sly shrugged, then sighed and knelt down next to Dynamite. He looked into the miner’s crazed but lifeless eyes. He picked up the satchel of explosives that had spilled again and said, “Anyway, I don’t see us using these. I say we bury them.”

“Works for me,” Curtis replied, then started walking back toward the fallen carriage.

“Um, Curtis,” Mabel said as he passed by. Curtis stopped, but didn’t say anything. Mabel paused, then whimpered, “N-never mind.”

Curtis continued back toward the carriage. Sly soon followed with the satchel, taking Mabel along with him. The girl looked up at the Ranger and said, “He seems off.”

Sly nodded, but didn’t reply at first. After a moment, he said, “Mabel, I’m sorry for ditching you during our conversation at the inn in Onyxlanding.”

“Oh,” Mabel said. “That’s okay. Um… Yeah, it’s fine. Really.” She smiled up at the Ranger.

“I know we were only talking, but abandoning you like that was unacceptable.” Sly clenched his fist, squeezing the satchel in his grip. “I’ll never do it again. I swear.” Mabel’s smile became smaller as she stared at the ground. She wrapped her arm around Sly’s and rested her head against him.

“I appreciate it, Sly,” she said quietly. “You might not have noticed, but if you weren’t here, Dynamite would’ve gone fer me first, so thank you. I trust you.” Sly looked ahead and swallowed deeply. He took a deep breath. In the sky, the blue rock thrush watched the party gather near the carriage. It tilted its head and watched them walk before turning and flying in the direction of Tangate. A muscly man stood on the outskirts of the small town. Tangate was about twice the size of Proudkeep, but still not large enough to be called a city. It started as a winter vacation town for the people of the Ridge, but when war broke out in the Valley Strip, the rich tourists stopped going and left the town to only the locals and the soldiers that occupied it.

Years after the war, the people of the Ridge found Tangate too disturbed and ugly to resume their annual trips, so the town was left in relative ruin and couldn’t afford reparations. The ruins of the old town surrounded the active central zone. Now, the town served primarily as a historical sight for those interested in the war, but it seemed that the average person didn’t care much for remembering the past. The thrush swooped down and onto the muscly man’s hand. It fidgeted in place and twitched its head back and forth. The man smiled at the bird and cocked his head to the side as if to gesture for the bird to get closer. The thrush skipped up the man’s arm and onto his shoulder where it chirped quietly into his ear. “Mhm, mhm,” the man hummed as the bird chirped. “Okay.”

The man lifted birdseed from his pocket and held it up to his shoulder for the bird to nibble on, then he spoke ahead as if talking to someone. The bracelet around his right wrist radiated warmth. “Dawn and Sly are headin’ this way, m’lady,” he said. “Kipo saw ‘em.”

“Wonderful, my dear Feather,” Armani Anderson said from inside a dimmed room. A similar bracelet around her right wrist was also warm as she spoke. “They have the little girl with them, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Armani stood from her cushioned chair and wandered to a mirror on the wall behind it. This room was organized differently from the previous. Her chair sat facing a window that had its curtains pulled closed and there was no fireplace. This room was much smaller than the previous one, too, only hosting a single small table where as the previous had stored a number of dressers and a couch, as well. “I’ll trust you to take care of them when they first arrive. We’ll need only a short time for preparation before we make our move.”

“Yes, m’lady. I’ll handle ‘em.” The bracelet’s warmth faded, and the man was left standing outside of Tangate with Fipo as his only companion. Meanwhile in the desert, Sly tried to calm Firefly so he could resituate the beast properly before departing. Curtis helped Sly hoist the carriage back onto its wheels; it was mostly intact, but the hood had been badly torn and the belongings inside were thrown all over. Once everything was reorganized, the group continued on their way to Tangate. Curtis didn’t speak the whole time while preparing to depart. He sat silently in the back of the carriage with Mabel. He stared into space and allowed himself to bob up and down with every bump of the wagon. Mabel watched the Outlaw as he kept staring at the same spot on the floor of the carriage.

Cowards die when they give up, he thought. “Well,” he whispered to himself. “Ain’t nobody can call me a coward.”

“Hm?” Mabel squeaked, but Curtis didn’t seem to notice, or just didn’t acknowledge it.

The two sat silently for a while longer before Sly called from up front, “Isn’t that a beautiful sight?” That seemed to snap Curtis out of his trance and Mabel made her way to the front of the cart. There, in the distance only about a mile away, was Tangate. The ruins started about half a mile out from the main town and continued right up to its edges, surrounding it in a vaguely square shape. The party passed a few people on the way into town; Sly assumed they were viewing or studying the ruins. Mabel sat on the bench beside Sly and watched the people pass by; most of them were crouched and examined the bits of stone leftover from the town’s past; some were hopping around the ruins and playing. Mabel stared ahead and in a quiet voice asked, “Sly? How many people have you killed?”

Sly coughed and cleared his throat, then replied, “What?”

“After Curtis shot Dynamite, he mentioned that he’d killed people before. Then, you said ‘You and me both.’ So how many people has it been?”

Sly let out a long sigh, then answered, “Uh, well, it’s— I mean it’s not that important. I try not to think about it that much.”

“How many?” Mabel asked again in a slightly raised voice.

Sly looked around before replying. “Four,” he said quickly. After a moment he continued with, “I understand if that bothers you. It bothers me, too. I’ve only ever done it in self-defense.”

Mabel shook her head gently. “It doesn’t necessarily bother me. I— I’m not sure; I just had t’know.” Sly nodded, then Mabel looked up at him. “How many people do you think Curtis has killed?” she asked. “It must be a lot, right? That’s probably why his bounty’s so high.”

Sly nodded and shrugged saying, “Maybe. It’s not something I really thought about before—not something I wanted to think about.” Mabel looked forward again and fell silent. Sly sat straighter and said, “Listen, it may not have been that long ago that we met him, but we both know that Dawn is a decent guy. He might lie and cheat, maybe steal, but we both know that he’s a caring person. He never wants trouble. I’m sure, like me, that all of his kills were in self-defense… Most of them. I’m sure.” After another moment, he said, “You sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“Yeah,” Mabel nodded. “I should’ve expected this sort o’ thing. It just caught me off guard is all. I’ll get over it.”

About a minute later, Curtis poked his head through the front of the tattered hood. Looking between Sly and Mabel he said, “So, that’s Tangate, huh?”

“Yep!” Sly exclaimed; Mabel nodded. “You like history, Dawn?”

“It’s interestin’,” Curtis said. “I was never good at memorizin’ dates, though.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Or numbers, in general, honestly.”

As the party arrived in Tangate proper, Sly looked to Mabel and said, “You should go back there with Curtis.”

“But we’re just entering’ town,” she returned. “We haven’t done anythin’ to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Just wanting to be safe,” Sly said with a shrug. “Up to you, though, I guess.” Mabel looked ahead and noticed the blue rock thrush perched on a destroyed wall just a couple hundred yards outside of town.

“Look at that bird,” she said pointing. “It’s so pretty!”

Sly chuckled and looked at the bird. He watched it for a moment before it flew toward town. A moment later, something clicked in Sly’s head. “Mabel,” he said. “Get in the back.”

“But why?” she protested again.

“Do it,” Sly commanded and nudged her. “We might have trouble already.”

“Who?”

“Another Ranger. That type of bird isn’t native to the Valley Strip. I only know one person who owns one. Go warn Curtis.”

“Okay,” she obeyed and climbed into the back. Sly gazed at the outskirts of town to try and find the Ranger he was expecting. He scanned the buildings in the distance noting that the thrush flew down the main road into town, but he didn’t see where it went. That’s when Sly realized that, besides the people the group had passed in the ruins, nobody was walking in or out of town and the main road appeared vacant but for one individual who stepped out from the first building on the left once Sly brought the carriage within speaking range of the town’s entrance. The man stood tall and had a muscular form. He crossed his arms and Fipo bounced on his shoulder. The bird chirped into the man’s ear and he nodded.

“I know,” he said quietly. Then, he spoke louder to Sly. “Well, if it isn’t Nathan Bowman. ‘Sly.’”

“Is that Raymond Webb?” Sly called back. “How’ve you been, Feather? How long’s it been?”

“‘Bout fourteen months,” Feather responded.

“I didn’t know you were stationed in Tangate,” Sly said acting as casual as possible.

“I’d heard you were in Sunnyville.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sly said with a nervous chuckle. “Change of plans. I’m on my way back to the Big City.”

“Already? That’s surprisin’. They don’t usually let someone off so easily like that, especially for what you did.”

Sly cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, well, I guess I just got lucky. I really should get moving, though. I plan to pass right through Tangate and get on my way again.”

“Mhm. Well, I can’t let’cha do that, Sly.”

“Oh… Why not?”

“I think you know why.” Sly took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead to his cheek, then to his lap. He swallowed.

Just let us go, Feather,” Sly said. “I’m sure you’ve heard about us by now. You can’t take us alone.”

“I ain’t alone. I’ve got Fipo with me; she’s all the help I need.”

Sly lowered his head and spoke quieter saying, “No, Feather. I don’t want to fight you.”

“Hmph, this’ll be easier than I thought, then.”

“But I will if I have to,” Sly said looking at Feather again, now with a focused expression.

Feather nodded and said, “Okay, then.” He lowered his arms to his hips and took a step forward. Fipo flew from his shoulder, but hovered around him for a moment. Feather imitated Fipo’s chirping, then the bird darted for Sly. Feather looked at his fellow Ranger and shouted, “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

Click here for a map of the journey so far.

Armani opened her eyes slowly, squinting at the shining sun that sat almost motionless in the sky. She took a deep breath and raised her hand to block the light from her eyes. Her head rested on the lap of a man wearing dark clothing and a black hat which contrasted with his pale skin. The man brushed his rough hand over Armani’s hair; she smiled and looked up at him. After a minute of satisfaction, she sat up and draped her arms around the man, then pecked his cheek with a kiss.

Armani sank against the man’s shoulder and held onto him, feeling the warmth of his leather coat on her face and arms. She sighed and looked out at the other visitors in the park. A tall tree had initially provided shade for the couple’s picnic, but as the sun journeyed across the vast ocean of blue, so, too, did the tree’s shadow change positions. The two were celebrating the anniversary of Armani’s promotion to Doyenne following Irving Craig’s death. Armani’s smile slowly faded as she dwelled on her thoughts. “I feel so lost without him,” she said after a couple minutes of silence.

The man, whose eyes had also been closed, opened his eyes and looked to his partner on his shoulder. “I’ve been lost many times in my life,” he whispered in a raspy voice. “But bein’ lost can be good, for you discover things you may have otherwise overlooked before.” The man brushed a hand over Armani’s hair again.

Armani smiled briefly, then let it fall once more. “But it’s been over a year since he passed, and I still have dreams about him.”

“Of course, you do,” the man said. “He was like an older brother to you. He taught you everythin’ you know about bein’ a Ranger and showed you how to enjoy servin’ justice. He’ll be with you forever.”

“Yeah… I just wish he would stop haunting me…”

“I’ve told you before: you’re more than good enough. You’ve been Doyenne fer over a year and no one’s had anythin’ to complain about. In fact, you’ve earned nothin’ but praise.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

“You’re thinkin’ about his killer.”

Armani paused for a moment. “There haven’t been any sightings of him since then. I still sometimes wonder if maybe Irving had fatally injured him before dying. Maybe that Outlaw died a little while later without so much as a prayer.”

“Hmph, perhaps. I don’t think you should dwell on it so much, though. I know Irving meant a lot to you, but focusing on this mystery Outlaw impacts yer other work negatively.”

“I can’t let it go! When Irving died, so did my motivation for being the best I can be. It bothers me every day that I haven’t come any closer to catching him—Midnight.”

The man’s eye twitched at the name. He stared at Armani who was watching the other park-goers. “I hate to see you worry, darlin’.”

“Oh,” she said and buried her face in his arm. “I’m sorry.” She looked up at the man. “We’ll get to celebrate our one-year soon, too.” She smiled again.

The man now watched the other park-goers but said. “Armani, I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered.

“You would no matter what, yes?”

“Of course. No matter what; I always will.”

***

Fipo zipped through the air to Sly. The bird flapped around Sly’s face making the Ranger raise his arms and swat at it. Fipo flew up and before Sly recovered, Feather raised his revolver. “Sorry, Sly,” Feather said and took aim at his fellow Ranger. Just as Feather rested his finger on the trigger of his gun, someone jumped from the carriage. Curtis pushed Sly out of the way of Feather’s bullet just as it left the barrel and tore through the already tattered hood creating two more holes. Mabel ducked inside and flinched at the sound of a bullet flying overhead. Sly fell over but caught himself with his hands as Curtis rolled along the ground.

Curtis recovered onto one knee and drew both of his revolvers, then said, “I’m sick and tired of fightin’ everywhere we go. I’ve been wanderin’ the Mesa Frontier fer less than a week and I haven’t had but one night’s sleep in a real bed!”

Sly stood and drew his revolvers, too, saying, “Thanks, Dawn.”

Curtis ignored Sly and continued speaking to Feather. “Who are you anyway?” he asked the enemy Ranger.

“What’s it matter t’ya?” Feather said. “Yer wanderin’ ends here!” Fipo flew high, then dove down behind Curtis and sang a quick tune. Feather responded by swiftly aiming at Curtis and firing. The bullet grazed Curtis’s cheek as he jolted to one side. Curtis’s cheek stung as the wide scratch bled.

“His name’s Raymond Webb,” Sly shouted to Curtis. “Also known as ‘Feather.’ He’s with the Band of Lovers!”

“Ah, so you’re with Payton Serrano,” Curtis said.

“The Hunter,” Feather replied. “I was surprised to hear that you two bested her, ‘specially when she had you pinned all day long. She let ‘er guard down; I won’t make that mistake.” Feather raised the barrel of his revolver to his lips and lightly tapped it with a kiss. “The four bullets left in the cylinder are all I’ll need.”

Only one revolver, huh? Sly thought. “You’ve lost your mind, Feather. Let’s get him, Dawn!”

Feather breathed slowly and felt the slight changes in air pressure as Fipo—who had flown high again after Feather shot at Curtis—dove again and chirped to guide Feather’s aim. Fipo then sharply turned and flew toward Sly, chirping again. 

Feather’s aim followed the bird’s chirping. He shot first at Curtis and knocked one of the revolvers from the Outlaw’s hand, then only a second later aimed perfectly at Sly’s hand to do the same. Curtis and Sly both stumbled and grasped their bloodied hands as Feather stood proud. Curtis watched Fipo swoop up into the air again. That bird’s chirped before every shot Feather takes, he thought. How’s that helpin’ ‘im?

Feather raised his revolver again and kissed the barrel. “Two shots left,” he called. “One fer each o’ ya!”

Curtis thought for a moment, then turned and faced the carriage. With the revolver he still held, he emptied the cylinder to break the wooden bars that held the carriage onto Curtis’s horse. Once the bars broke and the horse was freed, Curtis yelled, “Go git ‘im!” The metallic horse, still wrapped in its cloak, entered a full gallop almost immediately. Feather watched as the beast charged for him.

“I’m an animal lover,” Feather said. “But nothin’ stops justice in its wake!” Feather took aim at Sly again with Fipo’s direction and fired. The bullet sliced through the inside of Sly’s right thigh and brought the Ranger to his knee. Sly squeezed his leg in an attempt to ease the pain. Curtis’s horse continued its charge much to Feather’s surprise. It wasn’t scared by the gunshot? he thought. The metal steed raced toward Feather and reared up in front of him, then brought its legs down with much force. The horse kicked Feather sending him back about fifteen feet. Feather lied in the sand and coughed. With every cough, he could feel cracks within his chest and the smell and taste of blood flitted in his nose and mouth. When he tried to get up, his chest hurt immensely. “That’s a strong horse,” he whispered to himself, out of breath. “One more shot.”

Feather brought his arm out from under his body and aimed his revolver at Curtis. Fipo hesitated for a moment after seeing her keeper so quickly swept off his feet, but once she saw that Feather was ready to continue the fight, she swept through the air to Curtis. Curtis saw Fipo coming, though, and was prepared to dodge the bullet as best as he could. The bird lined itself up with Curtis’s shoulder—the same one Payton had shot and as far as Feather knew, Curtis’s weak spot—and chirped. But just as Feather shot his last bullet, Curtis’s horse slid between the Outlaw and the opposing Ranger. The bullet flew at the metallic steed and deflected off its gleaming skin with an echoing TANG. “What the—!” Feather cried.

Curtis flinched, then realized what had happened. He stared at his horse as it stood strong and huffed, then shook its head. Sly raised his head and realized, too, that Curtis’s horse had taken action to help again, then smiled.

“Damn,” Feather groaned. Then, speaking to the air, he said, “Lady Love, I‘m gonna need some help here.” The bracelet around his right wrist was warm.

“Is that so?” Armani Anderson replied. “You’re only serving as a distraction, remember?”

“Yeah,” Feather answered. “But—”

“Fine. Slasher will help.”

Sly and Curtis both watched Feather on the ground and wondered who he had spoken to. Fipo flew back to her keeper and landed on the ground, then hopped about and chirped lightly.

“Thank you, m’lady,” Feather said before watching Fipo bounce on the sand. “I’m okay, girl.”

Meanwhile, behind a building on the edge of town, a dark, lean man stood with another man that was much taller and much bulkier. “I guess Feather needs help,” the lean man said. “I’ll go out there. You get the girl.” The larger man nodded. The lean man climbed one of the three horses that also hid behind the building and rode toward Curtis. As he rode, he withdrew thin, straight blades from underneath his poncho—three in each hand. He threw the three in his right hand with incredible accuracy and impaled Curtis’s left arm up and down. Curtis spun and knelt on the ground, then looked to see the lean man jump off the horse and roll along the ground and rush toward him. Curtis clutched his arm but didn’t remove any of the blades.

“Who the hell’re y—,” Curtis said, but was cut off by the lean man’s attack. The lean man engaged Curtis up-close slashing and hacking away. Curtis fumbled back, blocking the attacks with his poncho and revolver when he could, but the lean man was fast and managed to slice Curtis a few times. Curtis lifted his leg from under his poncho and kicked at the lean man who jumped back and avoided the blow.

“That’s August Cobb,” Sly shouted. “He’s known as ‘Slasher!’”

Slasher swiftly turned to Sly and threw the three knives in his left hand at Sly, then withdrew three more with his left hand and a thicker curved blade with his right. The three thrown knives flew at Sly who rolled out of the way and stood. Curtis picked up his other gun with his bloodied hand and lunged at Slasher using his revolvers as blunt weapons. Slasher nimbly ducked and dodged Curtis’s blows and grappled with the Outlaw. Curtis tried to aim at Slasher and fired one of his weapons, but Slasher twisted Curtis’s arm and aimed the revolver upward so the bullet was shot into the sky. While Curtis was wrestling the knife-wielding Ranger, he called to Sly and said, “I’ll handle Slasher; go make sure Feather won’t give us anymore trouble!” Sly nodded and ran past the two of them fighting to reach Feather who still lied on the ground. His pain ached from the gunshot wound.

As he passed Curtis’s horse which still stood calm, Sly patted its neck and said, “Thank you.” The horse huffed and seemed to nod slightly. Then, Sly approached Feather and stopped a short distance away. He looked down at his fellow Ranger with his hands—still gripping his revolvers—on his hips. “I told you to let us go, Feather,” Sly said. Feather groaned, then suddenly flung his arm out from under himself and threw his empty revolver at Sly. Distracted, Sly stumbled and tripped when Feather swept his legs under him. Feather quicky grabbed Sly in a choke hold, but Sly was also trained in unarmed combat at the Ranger Academy and broke free from the grapple. He reversed the hold and pinned Feather to the ground.

Meanwhile, Slasher stabbed and cut Curtis with ease as the Outlaw tried to hit the Ranger with his revolvers; Curtis tried shooting Slasher here and there, but the Ranger was incredibly good at maneuvering around Curtis’s body to avoid the shots. Blood oozed from all the gashes on Curtis’s body, but his poncho helped to hide it. He thought that as long as he kept moving and didn’t focus on the injuries, he wouldn’t feel them as much. He was right for the most part, but as the battle continued and Slasher landed more and more attacks, Curtis started to slow, and fatigue began to take hold.

Curtis changed his strategy; he started playing defense and tried catching some of Slasher’s attacks. It was difficult because of Slasher’s dexterity, but Curtis managed to block some attacks and break away from the scuffle momentarily. Slasher was on him again in only a couple of seconds, but Curtis focused on defense and kept breaking away. Once he became more comfortable with Slasher’s attacks, he began his usual technique. “You’re pretty fast,” Curtis said. “I’m figurin’ you out, though. You only move so quick because you practice a routine, don’tcha? I know yer type. Once y’get used to it, it’s easy enough t’work around.”

“What’s got you so cocky all the sudden?” Slasher asked while continuing his pursuit.

“This always ends the same,” Curtis said. “You can’t beat us. The difference in our skills is obvious.”

“I’ve been a Ranger for eight years; you’ve only been on the run for what, a year? Though I’ll give it to ya, you’ve garnered a lot of attention in that time.”

 “I’ve probably had more fightin’ experience in the last eighteen months than you have in yer whole life. The difference between me and any of you Rangers comin’ after me is that I ain’t a coward afraid of wreckin’ stuff in a scramble. I don’t give up!” Curtis and Slasher collided, Slasher thrusting his curved knife at Curtis and Curtis blocking with one of his revolvers. Curtis whispered between grunts as he held Slasher in place for a moment. “The only way you could beat me is if all of yer buddies helped you out.”

“I’ll take you out here and now,” Slasher hissed.

“Will ya? Well then let’s make it official; a proper duel.”

Curtis and Slasher moved away from each other. Curtis sighed in relief; he caught Slasher. Slasher took heavy breaths and watched Curtis step about twenty paces away.

“I’ll let you decide how we do this,” Curtis said. “You and me, no distractions.”

Fifty yards away sat the carriage to which Firefly was still strapped and inside of which Mabel stayed ducked to the floor. When she heard the commotion quiet down as Curtis and Sly were drawn farther from the cart, she slowly lifted herself and peered out of the tattered hood at the fighting. It wasn’t long, however, until she heard a noise right behind the cart. At first, she assumed it to be Firefly adjusting his footing in the sand, but when the hood was opened from the back, she realized it was a person. Looking in on her was the large, muscular man—even more muscular than Feather. He had to slouch in order to poke his head into the hood; he looked at Mabel, backlit and imposing, and smiled a wide smile.

“Hello, little girl,” he said in a bassy voice. His darker skin backlit by the bright sun made him appear as a hulking silhouette. “Please come with me. I’m a Ranger, so you’ll be safe.” The man reached in with his hulking hands and grabbed Mabel’s wrist. He pulled her from the cart screaming.

 “Stop! Let me go!” she cried. Mabel’s arm ached as the man hoisted her against her will and threw her over his shoulder. The girl kicked and screamed; her voice echoed across the sand. Curtis swallowed and faced the carriage to see the tower of a man carrying Mabel over to an equally strong horse and tossing her atop its back. Then, Feather’s voice called from behind Slasher.

“Time to go, Slasher!” he called, then Sly covered his mouth and tightened his hold.

“Woah, now,” Curtis said to Slasher. “Hold on a minute. If we’re duelin’ fair an’ square, you gotta let her go.” Slasher’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. His eyes jolted between the kidnapping and his opponent. He opened his mouth as if to call out, but Feather thrusted his head back and removed Sly’s hand from his mouth, then shouted again.

“Slasher! You’re under his Spell!” Curtis flinched and stepped forward. Slasher blinked a couple of times and lightly shook his head before realizing what had happened.

“Can’t believe I fell fer that,” Slasher said quietly. He looked at Curtis. “You almost had me fer real! You’re finished now!” The towering man walked with Mabel on his shoulder to his brawny horse, but Mabel kicked and punched from the man’s shoulder. Irritated, he tossed Mabel down, but still held her arm. The girl’s arm strained from the force, but she caught herself on her feet.

“Please be quiet,” the man said before swiftly slamming the side of his fist into the side of Mabel’s neck, knocking her out instantly. The man threw her limp body onto the back of his horse’s saddle then stepped on. With Curtis distracted, Slasher lunged for Curtis and stabbed the top of his left shoulder, then ripped the knife from Curtis’s body and pushed the Outlaw away. He knelt and brushed the blood-soaked knife in the sand before wiping it with the outside of his poncho.

“Feel lucky,” Slasher said. “Today isn’t yer day.” Slasher turned and mounted his horse once again. Meanwhile, Feather continued wrestling with Sly and broke away from the grapple. He forced Sly away from him and toward Curtis. The larger man rode over with Feather’s horse in tow and Fipo landed on Feather’s open hand. Feather jumped onto his horse with one hand, then tucked Fipo into a little pouch on the front of the saddle. Sly began to stand, but the large man aimed his plain revolver at Sly’s thigh and shot.

“Please stay down,” the man said in his deep voice. Sly recoiled and grasped his leg as he had before. Slasher met with his allied Rangers and the three watched Curtis and Sly grovel for a moment.

I have to… I need to stop them, Curtis thought. I have to do it again. Curtis stood slowly and with difficulty. “I’ve never been able to do this twice in a row,” he said to nobody, “but I have to try. Hey, Slasher! Our battle ain’t done!”

Slasher watched Curtis, then said, “Go knock ‘im down, Milton.”

The bulky man nodded and rode to Curtis. The Outlaw stood his ground and called to Milton as he rode closer and closer. “I won’t give up that easily.”

“Hmph, we know yer trick,” Feather said to himself and Slasher. “It won’t work on the Wall.”

“Come and face me!” Curtis howled. A moment later, Curtis felt a sharp pain shoot through his body and an intense headache consumed his mind. He fell to his knees with his head in his hands, and before Milton reached the Outlaw, Curtis was unconscious. Milton leapt down from his steed and pushed Curtis with his foot, then shrugged and mounted his horse again to ride back to his partners.

“Every Spell has it’s limits,” Feather said, “whether it’s a successful hit or not.”

“So, he can only use it once in a short time, huh?” Slasher added. “Lady Love’ll be thrilled to hear that.” Sly watched in frustration unable to do anything as Slasher, Feather, and the Wall rode away.

“Sly,” Feather called back. “We’ll have a real match soon enough! Apply pressure to that wound and you’ll be fine! I expect to see you again!” Sly saw the unconscious Mabel bounce gently with the galloping of the Wall’s horse as they rode through Tangate and out of sight. Sly sighed and allowed himself to collapse in the sand. His leg bled, but he didn’t care. He had failed Mabel again. He had failed Curtis, and he had failed himself.

***

It was already evening when Curtis awoke. He sat up in the carriage and saw the glow of a fire through the holes in the hood. Sly sat by the fire with rations, but he wasn’t eating when Curtis sat down across the fire from him. Curtis’s head hurt and his memory was fuzzy, but everything came back to the Outlaw when he looked around and didn’t see Mabel anywhere. His body ached all over from the stab wounds and he noticed Sly’s leg bandaged up from being shot by the Wall. He also saw that he, too, was bandaged even though the cuts weren’t deep. Curtis wasn’t hungry, but he grabbed a ration for himself and began to eat. He looked around at the landscape and couldn’t see any sign of Tangate through the darkness. Sly spoke, but he didn’t look at Curtis; his gaze was fixed on the fire.

“We’re a few miles north of Tangate now.” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “Raymond ‘Feather’ Webb, a Ranger of my graduating class. With him were ‘Slasher,’ August Cobb, and Milton Cummings, a.k.a. ‘the Wall.’ All three are with the Band of Lovers. I think we would have beaten them if they hadn’t caught us so off guard.”

“They also knew ‘bout my Spell already,” Curtis added. “I guess this Lady Love woman hasbeen watchin’ us. Tried usin’ it twice, but...”

“They took Mabel…”

Curtis nodded, then said, “It’s bait. They weren’t tryna kill us; just distract us, slow us down so they’d have time to grab ‘er an’ run. They want us to follow, but where?”

“Yellowtusk, most likely. They rode through Tangate at first, but then turned west. I saw the clouds of dust still when I went to follow, but they’d already gone. I also picked these up in town. The people of Tangate didn’t want anything to do with us but were kind enough to provide them.” Sly handed Curtis two sheets of rough paper: wanted posters. One of the posters was for Curtis and read:

WANTED

CURTIS “DAWN” CONRAD

DEAD OR ALIVE

REWARD: 12 G

The poster also had an additional tag at the bottom which said: “**WARNING: this individual possesses a power known as Compulsion which allows him to force others into duels against their will; do not approach without proper training.**”

“Compulsion?” Curtis said to himself. “I guess that’s an accurate name.” He put his updated poster behind the second sheet which he noticed was also a wanted poster. The second poster read:

WANTED

NATHAN “SLY” BOWMAN

ALIVE

REWARD: 9 ALS

Curtis read the poster several times before handing the sheets back to Sly. “Sorry, Sly,” he said quietly. Sly shook his head.

“I had it coming,” he replied. “I recognized this as a possibility from the start, remember? Doesn’t make much of a difference to me; it doesn’t change who I am. You’ve shown me that some Outlaws can be regular people, maybe just with ugly pasts. I have one ugly enough for sure, but being a Ranger helped cover it up.” Curtis nodded slightly and looked at Sly. He saw the Ranger still watching the fire and looked into the blaze himself. He followed the embers into the air and saw how they flickered amongst the stars. He watched the night sky for a few minutes before looking back at Sly who he noticed was also stargazing then.

“Sly,” Curtis said. Sly brought his head down just slightly, but Curtis couldn’t see the ex-Ranger’s eyes. “I don’t wanna make any part o’ Mabel’s kidnappin’ out to be good—we’ll get ‘er back, let me make that clear—but this is the first real chance the two of us have had to talk one-on-one with no reason to hide anythin’. So, well, I’ll go first. In case you haven’t heard the full story, here’s the reason why I have such a high bounty.”

***

In the darkness of the desert, the only sound audible for almost a mile was the thumping of hooves on the soft sand. Feather, Slasher, and the Wall rode through the night; Mabel was still unconscious on the back of the Wall’s horse. The bracelet on Feather’s right wrist was warm, along with a bracelet on Slasher’s left wrist and an earring in the Wall’s right ear. Feather spoke first.

“We’ll be in Yellowtusk by daybreak,” he said.

“Excellent,” Armani replied in a half-whisper from her dimmed room. “I’ll be waiting. Don’t be too long, my loves.”

“Yes, ma’am,” all three answered semi-synchronously. When their jewelry stopped radiating warmth, Slasher looked at Mabel behind the Wall.

“You didn’t kill ‘er, did ya?” he said to the hulking man.

“No,” the Wall replied. “I only knocked ‘er out.”

“Well, how long is she gonna be out?” Slasher asked.

“I don’t know. The longer, the better, right?”

“I guess so. I’m just gettin’ worried that she’s never gonna wake up. It’s been, like, half a day.”

“Milton hits hard,” Feather chimed in, “but he knows restraint. The girl’ll be fine.”

“I mean, I know that he has experience with this sort of thing, but has he ever done it to a little girl?”

“I don’t know, man,” Feather said. “We’re Rangers; we don’t have to worry about our pasts. Milton’s done his time and now the Government sees his skills as useful. I trust that he knows what he’s doin.’” The Wall looked ahead and paid no mind to the conversation beside him.

“Okay,” Slasher said, then fell silent. He couldn’t help but glance at Mabel from time to time just to make sure she was still breathing.

***

Back north above Tangate, Sly sat silently as Curtis wrapped up his story about after Midnight left the ranch in Dry Creek and about wandering through the Southern Slick. Curtis sighed, but to his surprise—and relief—Sly didn’t seem upset. The ex-Ranger nodded at first, then took a deep breath before speaking. “None of that makes me dislike you, Dawn,” he said from across the fire. “Frankly, I don’t give a damn about what you’ve done over the past two years, or even before that. Maybe I would have just a week ago, but these past several days have really changed my view of the world. Honestly, I was changed after our second encounter in Coyote Run.”

“What d’ya mean?” Curtis asked.

“I haven’t really told you the real reason I wanted to come with you on your travels. Yes, I did hope that I could make it back to the Big City and earn my place amongst the big wigs again, but I also knew that I would most likely be recognized by the Government as a threat after teaming up with a dangerous Outlaw and I was okay with that possibility, too. But the reason I approached you and didn’t just go on my own was…well, two things actually. The first reason was that I was scared, honestly.” Sly chuckled. “I didn’t know what to do on my own. Not like I’m unaccustomed to being alone; I’d never had a partner or anything. But the idea of fighting the same system that gave me wealth and power was terrifying and I didn’t want to be the only one who suffered if I failed. It was incredibly selfish, and I shouldn’t have dragged you in, but I’m grateful that you took me.

Curtis nodded. “Made no difference to me at the time. I genuinely thought you’d be useful, and I was right. So, I could say that I’m grateful, too.”

“The other reason was because you were the person who changed my view to begin with. When you beat me, I thought I was done for—both times. Any other Outlaw that I’d met by then, and honestly still, would’ve shot me down the moment they had the chance, but you didn’t. You did everything you could to spare every life you could, and it only just clicked in my mind after that second encounter. You could’ve killed the sheriff of Sunnyville, but you didn’t. You could’ve killed me when I begged you to let me follow you, but you didn’t. With the exception of Dynamite, you’ve had every opportunity to kill every Outlaw we’ve faced, but you didn’t.

“What you’ve shown me is that sometimes people are only bad when presented with circumstances that offer no other option, and your tales from the Southern Slick have only proven that to me further. Do I think you could’ve avoided someof the conflicts you had there? Sure, but you were also more naïve about how being what you are works, and I think that if you went back there now, you’d leave with no more blood on your hands than when you entered.”

“I ain’t ever goin’ back there.” Curtis chuckled.

“That’s probably for the best,” Sly replied, also laughing. “I believe that you’ve done everything in your power to lead a good life while on your hunt for Midnight. The Mesa Frontier had changed. There’s more danger now than ever, since the start of my life, anyway. But I guess the past is only a memory now.”

“So, what is your past, Sly?”

“Well, I’ve told you most of it, honestly. Just not the bad stuff.” Curtis locked eyes with Sly but was silent. “I used to work for a very bad man. I didn’t know he was bad until kind of recently; that’s why I was stationed in Sunnyville—to be placed as far away from the Big City as possible without being sent to my death in the Southern Slick. I was alone there because, like I said, I’ve never had any official partners. There were plenty of others, Rangers and otherwise, who worked for that same man, but I was especially guilty. I was the only person who got orders directly from him; sort of his right-hand man you could say. You might wonder how I didn’t know he was bad, then. Well, he was a very good speaker. He disguised everything we did—everything I did—as justice.

“I hurt innocent people. I removed people from their homes by force under the name of justice and the law. I witnessed terrible acts and let them happen because the younger me was so caught up in being a Ranger, something I had aspired to be for so long, that I was blind to the darker side of it all.” Sly paused. “I never killed an innocent person. Every death I’ve caused directly was in action against an Outlaw or some other criminal. But all those innocent lives that must have been lost because the poor had nowhere to go and nothing to eat because of some ridiculous tax laws that that man put in place, they way on me.”

After a moment, Curtis inquired, “Who was that man? Where’s ‘e now?”

Sly lowered his head. “His name was Lester Langley.”

“I’ve heard of ‘im. He’s in hidin,’ right?”

“No one’s seen him for a year. He ran before the Government even placed a bounty for him; someone must have warned him. When the Government couldn’t arrest him, they came after his dogs; not that we would’ve gotten away with anything scot-free, but they probably hit us worse than it would’ve been otherwise. Aside from being sent to Sunnyville, I was fined 102 gold. I had a lot of money, for sure, but that wasn’t a light fee. We did get an incentive for helping to bring Langley in, but there’s been no sign of him since he disappeared.”

“Listen, Sly. To be honest, I don’t give a damn either whether you used to ransack the homes of the poor or bully them from their living spaces, or even if you did kill a few of ‘em. In my eyes, none o’ that’s as bad as what I’ve done. So, in my book, you, too, have done yer best to live a good life.”

“Yeah, but…” Sly hesitated. A tear streamed down his cheek and fell into the sand. Curtis watched Sly, but still didn’t say anything. After a moment, Sly sniffled, then said, “Mabel knows about Lester Langley. He’s the reason she was on the streets.”

“Did you do it?”

“No, but I would’ve if he asked.”

“That’s why you’ve been actin’ weird around ‘er lately. Did she find out that you used to work fer ‘im?”

“No. A couple nights ago, she told me about her family and explained what happened. Some of Langley’s men killed them, but let her live homeless. I couldn’t stand to hear about it, so I walked out of the room and left her alone there.”

“You’ll have to tell ‘er eventually. Better that than to have her find out on ‘er own.”

Sly sniffled again and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I agree. I just haven’t figured out when or how to do it yet.”

“Here’s what I say: just tell ‘er. Be honest; let ‘er know that you regret all of it and that you’ve been scared of what she’d think. She’ll understand.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sly said, continuing to nod. “You do the same.” He looked at Curtis. Curtis turned his gaze to the ground.

“I will. We’ll each take our time. For now, let’s get some rest. We’ll need all our strength for what’s comin.’”

As the three Rangers rode through the dark, the moon as their only source of light in the open desert, they were quiet. Mabel bobbed with every full cycle of the Wall’s horse’s gallop. Slowly, her eyes opened.

***

“No matter what, I always will,” Armani confirmed. The pale man smiled and looked down at Armani.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he said. “In that case, there is something I must tell you. Once I do, there will be no secret I have not shared with you.”

Armani sat up and faced the man completely. “I’m ready,” she said. “Anything.”

“I was the one who killed Irving Craig.”

Armani fell silent as her smile slowly fell. She heard nothing in her ears except the gentle wind blowing through the leaves of the tree above her. The chirping birds, the laughing passersby, the barking dogs, it all fell quiet to her. She stared at the man she loved mouth wide and eyes watery. She said, “Why would you say that?”

“It is the truth,” the man replied. “The mysterious Outlaw called Midnight is I.”

Armani held her breath and didn’t speak for several moments. She held back tears as best she could, but a lump formed in her throat. “You—” she choked. “You’re.…."

“You still love me, don’t you?” Midnight asked.

“I…” Armani’s thoughts raced thousands of times in her head every second. Suddenly, all the noise around her was deafening and she could hear all of it but still none of it at the same time as it meshed into a hurricane of sound. She saw the man in front of her change somehow and become someone different, someone she didn’t realize she recognized. Her perception of the man she loved morphed from one of pure infatuation to something incomprehensible to her fragile mind.

The noise was overwhelming, and her sight confused her. She wanted to raise her hands to her ears and block out the sounds; close her eyes and shut out everything that came to her all in that moment. She could hear Irving Craig’s voice in her head clearer than in any of her dreams and it danced with the voice of Midnight and all the things he’s told her since they met that made her feel wanted, feel loved, feel less alone after the death of her idol. The voices tormented her, teased her, and she wanted nothing more than to strangle the man in front of her and silence his taunting. It made her feel foolish and ignorant for not realizing sooner that the man she met only months after her mentor’s death was the same man who brought about that death and—.

Silence.

“I…” Armani said just barely loud enough to hear. The noises around her returned to normal volumes and the man she saw in front of her was not the man she sought to destroy but only the man she loved and that she knew she loved with all her heart. She swallowed and the tears that were about to erupt left her eyes, leaving her cheeks dry for a moment before they returned in full swing. But instead of wailing and shouting, the Doyenne smiled and embraced Midnight. “I do.” She said. “I do still love you. No matter what.” Midnight wrapped his arms around her, his dark clothing bringing warmth to the woman he, too, loved with all his heart. After a minute, the two separated. Armani wiped her face and Midnight expressed his relief.

“Sadly, I must say that I have to leave soon. It’s dangerous for me to remain in one place for long.”

“But you’ll come back,” Armani hoped. “You always have, even when you’ve gone for long times.”

Midnight nodded and leaned in close. “Of course, I will,” he assured her. Then, Midnight planted a gentle kiss on Armani’s lips.

Before departing, Midnight received a pendant from Armani to wear around his neck. She kept a matching one for herself and proposed something. “My Spell,” she explained. “Rose Glasses. I can bind myself to another with this.” She touched the pendant. “That way, I may experience the senses of said person whenever I please. It will allow us to communicate from any distance, even if I don’t know where you are.”

“Experience my senses?”

“Yes! I could see what you see and hear what you hear. No matter where either of us may be in relation to one another. But that’s not all; I could… well.”

“Yes?”

“I… could… designate you as my True Love… and then I could feel, always, just how close or far you are by how warm the pendant is at rest. There are some downsides to that ability, but they don’t matter. You are my true love!”

Midnight embraced Armani again and whispered in her ear. “My love. I want nothin’ more than to always be connected with you, but I cannot. It would be dangerous for both of us if you always knew where I am and could see and hear as I do.” Midnight began to remove the pendant, but Armani stopped him.

“Wait,” she pleaded. “It doesn’t have to be like that. We can just use it to communicate here and there when it’s safe to do so. I won’t share your senses without permission, and I won’t make you my True Love. Then, your location will always be a secret and I’ll never know what you’re up to.” Armani looked up at Midnight. “It’ll be enough just to talk to you every once-in-a-while, because I’ll know in my heart that you’re my one and only.”

“Okay,” Midnight said. “That’ll work. However, I need you to only respond to me when I call for you. I think it would be risky for you to contact me without notice. Okay?” Armani nodded. “I love you, Armani,” Midnight said in his half-whisper tone.

“I love you, too, my beautiful Moon.”

Click here for a map of the journey so far.

Mabel’s eyes shot open. She gasped for air and sat up as if she’d just been holding her breath underwater for too long. She turned her head and let her eyes dart around the darkened room. She sat under the covers in a bed, still wearing her clothes. As her eyes adjusted, she made out the shapes of a side table to her left next to the bed; there was a small, unlit oil lamp on the table and three drawers on the front. The wall was a few feet past the table. Looking down the foot of the bed, Mabel saw a large, closed trunk against the opposing wall. Near the middle of that same wall was the door under which light from an assumed hallway shone.

Next to the door was a coat rack and on the right was a dresser with several larger drawers and a mirror and a flower vase situated on top. She couldn’t make out the type of flower in the vase. Looking at the wall to the right of her bed, Mabel could just barely see a desk with books and writing utensils on it with an accompanying chair, thick drapes most likely covering a window, and a larger potted plant in the corner. Immediately to the right of her bed was another dresser and next to that sat what must have been, from what she could barely see, a vibrantly colored sofa. The center of the floor was decorated with a large fuzzy rug resembling some sort of animal fur, but she couldn’t make out what in the darkness.

She could barely see her hat on the coat rack and her boots on the floor next to it. As she looked at her belongings in that strange, unfamiliar room, she noticed a soft shadow pass briefly by the door followed by voices. Mabel ducked back under the covers and rolled to her side to pretend to be asleep when the door opened and in popped a head. The light from the hall lit up the covers over her back and she could see the shadow of whoever was looking in on the wall closest to her. She heard a quiet voice—a woman’s—say something, then the man looking in answered. “Looks like she’s still sleepin’,” the man said.

“Let ‘er sleep,” the feminine voice replied. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite remember who it belonged to. “We don’t need ‘er just yet.” Then, the door shut slowly. She waited a few minutes after the voices disappeared before she moved again, spending that time trying to think of what happened before she awoke there. She tried to recognize the voices. The male voice had to belong to one of her captors she was sure, but she couldn’t put a face to it. She remembered the fight with Curtis and Sly against the other three Rangers who had been waiting for them in Tangate, and she remembered the largest of the three tossing her over his shoulder like a parent would to their naughty toddler.

Mabel remembered kicking and screaming as the tower-of-a-man brought her to his equally as buff horse, but then he lifted her off his shoulder. She remembered his polite speech, always saying “Please” before making demands, then the next thing she knew she awoke slumped over the back of the huge horse’s saddle in the middle of the night and in the open desert. She sat up a bit and was noticed by the Ranger called Slasher. He spoke at a regular volume, but still held command in his voice. “You’re finally awake, huh?” he said. Mabel thought for a bit. She could have jumped off the horse and started running, following the tracks to make it back to Tangate, but then she came to her senses.

It wasn’t like before when she had been caught by police in Coyote Run; she was in the middle of nowhere—a vast ocean of sand that gave no real sense of direction. She couldn’t spring from her captivity and hide amongst crowds of people or squeeze through tight spaces between buildings to confuse her pursuers. She had nowhere to go and would have been drastically out sped by the horses. Even if her captors had let her go, there’s no telling how far she really was from civilization. She very well may have starved or suffered from heat stroke once the sun rose. “Don’t bother runnin’,” Slasher said as if to agree with her thoughts. “We’re takin’ you to Yellowtusk where we’ll wait fer yer friends.”

“You’ll also get to meet a celebrity,” Feather chimed in. “The famous Lady Love will be meetin’ us there. Armani Anderson herself!”

“I don’t know who that is,” Mabel said trying to undermine the Ranger’s enthusiasm over kidnapping.

“You don’t?” Feather said with genuine confusion and a bit of frustration. “How couldn’t you?”

“She’s just a kid,” Slasher said.

“I’m fourteen,” Mabel interjected.

“Yeah, a kid,” Slasher reiterated. “Just sit still until we get there in the mornin’, then we’ll talk more.”

“For now, just be quiet,” Feather growled. Mabel obeyed. She saw no point in resisting and decided it would be best to sleep; despite being unconscious for what had obviously been hours, she didn’t feel the slightest bit rested, and her neck ached immensely from the Wall’s blow earlier in the day. When she awoke again, it was in this room. It was Feather; that’s who was looking into the room a few minutes ago. Since he had mentioned Armani Anderson, she assumed he, and probably the other two with him, was part of the Band of Lovers. She remembered, then, the female voice; it had to be Payton Serrano. Mabel sat up in bed again.

She lifted the heavy covers from atop herself as she turned and let her feet drop to the wooden floor. She took light steps to avoid any parts of the floor that she noticed would creak under the slightest pressure and pressed her ear against the door. She heard nothing outside and reached for the doorknob to find the door unlocked, much to her surprise. Slowly, she twisted the knob and cracked the door open, then peaked through. As she suspected, her door led to a hallway which was decorated with paintings on the walls and a long rug running down the center of the floor. Small chandeliers hung from the ceiling to bathe the hall in bright light and potted plants were sprinkled beside sitting benches periodically in the hall.

Mabel opened the door more and cautiously stuck her head out of her room. She looked up and down the hall and saw no sign of people guarding the way, or even just wandering around the building. She noticed several other doors like the one to her room but wasn’t interested in where they led. She took a step into the hallway and walked on the carpet to muffle her footsteps. Turning left from her room, she followed the hall to a staircase leading down; the carpet transitioned seamlessly onto the stairs as one continuous piece. As she got closer to the stairs, Mabel picked up the savory smells of breakfast foods that she was all too familiar with but hadn’t had much of since becoming homeless.

Mabel tried her best to be as quiet as possible, but released a startled gasp when she heard laughter and conversation downstairs. There, at the bottom of the stairs, Mabel saw another door, one that seemed to lead outside. The small window in the upper half of it let her see that it was daytime, and she could see a wooden porch on the other side. Mabel’s eyes locked onto the door’s handle as she took her first step down the stairs. She was careful to test each step before committing to make sure they wouldn’t creak under her weight, and just like that, she was at the bottom. Mabel looked around before stepping onto the ground floor and, while she could still hear people a couple of rooms over, she didn’t see anyone or think they knew she was there yet. She rested her hand on the door handle and began to turn it slowly and quietly, but as she did, she heard a distinct phrase in the conversation from the other room.

“…then surely Dawn will be put to death.” A man said it; Feather, Mabel recognized.

“Sh! We mustn’t discuss these things here,” a woman’s voice replied, but not Payton’s. “There are too many ears in this house.” Mabel couldn’t resist the urge. She released the door handle and wandered along the wall through the dining room on her right and to the entrance of the next room and listened. “But this, I will say,” the same woman said in a half-whisper like one speaking to a lover. “The Government, I’m sure, has plans for Curtis Conrad. As for Nathan Bowman, we’ll just have to see what sentence he’s given. I doubt my superiors will be so light on him again.” Standing just around the corner to the room that housed several members of the Band of Lovers, the smell of sausage, eggs, and toast consumed Mabel’s senses.

She’d eaten stiff bacon and watery eggs at the inn in Proudkeep a couple of nights before, but the aromas wafting through the air from that room told her that the food being prepared there was of much higher quality, and she realized that she was very hungry. She clutched her stomach and hoped that the occupants of the next room over hadn’t heard it growl. Luckily, the voices continued with plain conversation as before and didn’t react to her body’s rumbling. Mabel stood for a moment longer, then decided to make her way back to the front door. She turned and took a step onto the rug underneath the dining table but failed to notice the fluffy tail sticking out from underneath a chair.

The gray cat to which the tail belonged howled and knocked its body against many chair legs as it scurried away and out of the room. The conversation in the next room halted. “Barnabas?” Mabel heard Slasher call. Mabel backed away slowly from the table and tried to quietly hurry to the front door but stopped when she saw Feather’s muscular form step into the dining room. He looked down at Mabel with a furrowed brow.

“Well, look who we ‘ave here,” he said.

***

The sun bleached the sky as it rose to its peak. It was another especially hot day like a week before when Curtis entered Sunnyville. Curtis and Sly rode in silence through the open desert. Not even the inside of the carriage provided much relief from the scorching heat due to the hood being almost completely torn open from abuse. Curtis drove the cart with his horse in the lead as Sly followed beside it on Firefly.

“I don’t want t’just sit and do nothin’,” Curtis had said earlier when Sly prepared to steer the carriage with Firefly strapped to the side. 

“Okay,” Sly replied. “I think I’ll ride Firefly, then. He hasn’t been getting much exercise these past couple of days.” Around lunch time, the pair stopped to eat and make a plan. They had only been traveling for a couple of hours and still had most of the day to go before reaching Yellowtusk where they assumed the Band of Lovers was waiting.

“So, how do we get into Yellowtusk without bein’ noticed?” Curtis asked while chewing a mouthful of rationed food.

“Yellowtusk is a pretty large city,” Sly said. “It’s quite wealthy, though not as wealthy as its neighbor Rich River or the Big City. However, it still has wide open residential areas with individual plots for homes unlike Coyote Run and Onyxlanding which are more compact. Each Doyen tends to stay in their own designated branch of the Ranger HQ in the Big City which are separate building in the north, south, east, west, and center districts. They serve as home bases for them and their groups, but some also have major stations elsewhere in the Valley Strip. One such station is in Yellowtusk and belongs to Armani Anderson and the Band of Lovers. That’s probably where they’re keeping Mabel. Still, Yellowtusk is just another city with its own specialties and attractions and shouldn’t be too tough to sneak around in assuming the Band of Lovers don’t have the residents watching out for us.”

“Well, Sly, the thing about being wanted is that just about everyone is keepin’ an eye out for ya. I’ve been lucky that no one has much recognized me so far except the occasional officer or bar tender, but in a city that hosts a base for a Doyen’s gang, the civilians must be more familiar with Outlaws.”

“You’re right, but the Rangers still wouldn’t be encouraging regular people to get involved with any Outlaws they happen to spot in town. The way I see it, the worst-case scenario is that the residents recognize us and tell the police who, most likely, then tell the Band of Lovers, but the Band of Lovers will already be expecting us so what’s the difference?” Curtis pondered the thought quietly for a moment before Sly spoke again. “Listen. Mabel’s going to be fine. It’s us they want, not her. They’re just using her as bait, and they know it’s going to work. I know firsthand how cruel the Government and its dogs can be, but she has nothing the Band of Lovers want, so they’ll leave her be. The worst they’ll do is keep her locked up in a room somewhere with nothing to do, and unless she’s allergic to boredom—which I’m not sure that child can even get bored—she’ll be okay.”

Curtis nodded. “So, what do you know about Yellowtusk that can help us out?”

“There are a few different entrances into town which gives us at least a hint of the element of surprise; plus, we can always go in through a back street. The roads are usually crowded à la Coyote Run, so as long as nobody’s taken notes about how exactly we’re dressed, we should be able to blend in pretty easily. And despite what I’ve said, the Band of Lovers’ station isn’t an impenetrable fortress. The station is surrounded by a high fence, but definitely still scalable. The building itself has a few Rangers stationed at the entrances and exits in the evening, though there might be more or even some in the day if they’re expecting us to try to break in.

I don’t know the exact layout, having never been inside myself, but I do know that it’s three stories above ground and has a basement. I’m guessing they’ll hold Mabel on either the top or bottom floor, both of which will be difficult—if not impossible—to access from the outside. There are some assumptions I think we should make going into this, as well. The first is that most of the Band of Lovers will be present. Last I checked, there are ten active members including Lady Love; we’ve met only four.” Curtis chuckled a bit at that, knowing just how much trouble those four had given them. “I doubt all ten will be brought in for this, but let’s say maybe six or seven. We should also assume that Armani herself will be among the present members and we can’t fall victim to her Spell. That would be the end of it.”

“It’d be nice to know what ‘er Spell is,” Curtis stated.

Sly agreed with a nod. “Unfortunately,” the ex-Ranger said, “we’ll be pretty blind when we face her. I do, however, know at least a little about most of the members of her group. I can give you a run down on our way there.”

“I don’t suppose you have a specific plan, do you? I mean for when we get there, and bullets start flyin’ through the air. How do we find Mabel and get out with our lives?”

Sly leaned back with his hands behind him in the sand. “I don’t exactly have experience infiltrating bases full of highly trained and experienced gunmen. Do you?” Curtis shook his head. “On the bright side,” Sly said., “we might have it a little easier if Armani wants the most bang for her buck. She’s performed extremely well in her short time as a regular Ranger, but she’s very humble and even self-conscious about her contributions. She’s always feeling pressure to live up to the Ranger she replaced.”

“Silver Tongue.”

“The one and only. My point is that Armani will probably want to claim our bounties for herself. That’s how it usually goes when a Doyen’s group arrests a high-profile Outlaw. The Doyen will get most of the credit, but the reward will trickle down the ladder to every member of the gang. Of course, to get the most recognition and earn the most money for her crew, she’ll encourage the Band to capture us alive, but I don’t think we should rule out the possibility of deadly force as a last resort should we prove too troublesome to arrest.” The pair were quiet for a minute, then Sly spoke again and said, “This isn’t going to be easy, Dawn.”

Curtis chuckled. “No, not easy at all. But then again, my life hasn’t been very easy for the past year-and-a-half. This week alone has almost been as bad as my 18 months in the Southern Slick. At least there, I wasn’t getting into trouble every day.”

“Maybe after we get Mabel back, we can find a little spot to hide and relax for a few days. You deserve it.”

Curtis nodded again. If we get Mabel back, he thought.

***

Feather towered over Mabel, taking a few steps closer as the girl stumbled back. The Ranger backed Mabel into the corner of the dining room before stopping his advance. “It’s rude to snoop around someone else’s home,” Feather said. Mabel’s eyes were glued to the tall Ranger’s own, and she swallowed deeply. She felt so small at that moment and couldn’t help but be brought back to the times when her family cowered in the presence of their Ranger oppressors. She didn’t remember any specific Ranger from that time years ago, but she could feel in the presence of Feather that he would have fit nicely with Lester Langley’s forces.

“Feather,” the enticing woman’s voice called from the other room. “If it’s our guest you’re speaking to, why don’t you bring her in here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Feather said and obediently dragged Mabel into what appeared to be the kitchen of the house. Feather held Mabel’s upper arm and pushed her through the entrance, then stood behind to block the entrance back to the dining room. Mabel glanced around the room. It looked like a normal household kitchen, only much bigger than what she was used to. Cabinets lined the walls low and high with countertops above the lower ones. There were two sinks and two ovens and stoves. Plenty of counter space was efficiently used with a cutting station, storage for hanging pots and pans and utensils, baskets with fresh fruits and vegetables, and a rack dedicated entirely to fancy-looking knives.

A dish rack sat on either side of the refrigerator—something Mabel knew as a symbol of wealth given that it required electricity—which was nestled cozily in with the cabinets and a hole at the end of one countertop suggested a waste bin in the cabinet underneath. She acknowledged that the stoves were likely gas-powered, too, rather than the standard wood stoves in other smaller towns. A table was situated on the far side of the kitchen at which three people sat; the far side of the kitchen had a nook with windows that bled plenty of natural lighting into the room, so only one lamp was turned on near the transition from the dining room. A closed door was to the right of the table. The Wall stood by one stove wearing an apron and tending to the food that Mabel had smelled from upstairs.

The smells, too, reminded her of when she lived with her family, but more so of the happier moments. At the table was Slasher who she recognized, but the other two were unfamiliar to her. Another man was there with a heavy coat despite the weather being far from cold and Mabel noticed that his hands shined like metal but weren’t smooth like Curtis’s horse. They resembled the rougher design of Bad Mouth’s enhancement. The other person sitting must have been the woman she heard speaking. Nothing about her particularly stood out except for the copious amount of jewelry she wore.

Bracelets, earrings, necklaces, and rings adorned her already beautiful appearance, the shiny metals glowing in the sunlight and contrasting well with the tanned skin of a Valley Strip native. Everyone except the Wall stared at Mabel. Slasher wore a neutral expression, but one that Mabel found unexpectedly friendly. The other man at the table had a slight frown and looked at Mabel with a side-eye rather than facing her. The woman smiled lovingly. “No need to be so rough,” she said to Feather. Mabel noticed then that the woman had a similar accent to Sly rather than the twang of belonging to locals of the Valley Strip. Feather released Mabel’s arm and nudged the girl forward before walking farther into the kitchen himself and leaning against the counter to the right.

“Please, Mabel, come sit,” the woman said. Mabel moved forward slowly passing behind the Wall, then heard a high-pitched chirp from atop one of the high cabinets. Mabel jumped slightly and turned to the source of the sound; she recognized the blue rock thrush that jumped about the cabinetry as Feather’s pet. Fipo, she remembered hearing Feather call it. “Don’t worry,” the woman said. “There’s no need to be shy. You’re just in time for breakfast.” She gestured to the empty chair across from herself. “I hope you slept well last night. I know the journey here wasn’t particularly comfortable.” Mabel stood behind the empty chair and rested her hand on top of it but didn’t pull it out. She stayed quiet and looked on the table at the unfamiliar man’s mechanical hands.

The man scowled a bit and crossed his arms on the table as if trying to hide his hands from her. Mabel looked up again at the woman. “Where are my manners,” the woman said. “My name is Armani Anderson. This is August Cobb,”—she gestured to Slasher on her right—“and this is Eddie Ewing. Over there, of course, you’ve also met Milton Cummings,”—the Wall looked over his shoulder and waved gently with a polite smile—“and Raymond Webb.” Feather nodded with his arms crossed. Mabel looked at Eddie with a curious gaze.

“He doesn’t speak much,” Slasher said. “Funny though because we call him ‘Orator.’” Mabel nodded slightly and turned back to Armani who held her same warm smile. Armani rested her head in one hand and winked at Mabel.

“I’m sure you have many questions, Mabel,” she said. “I want you to feel free to ask us anything you’d like.”

Mabel hesitated to speak as she sat, then took a breath and spoke. “Where are we?”

“We’re in Yellowtusk,” Armani said. “Just south of Rich River, but I’m sure you know your geography, the smart girl that you are. Specifically, this is the Cummings residence. The Wall comes from old money, you see, and he grew up here with his grandparents. When they sadly passed just a few years back, the house went to him, servant staff and all. So, now he welcomes us here anytime as a home away from home. It’s a nicer place to hang around than our official government-sanctioned outpost in the city.”

Mrow… The sound came from under Mabel’s chair, and she felt something soft brush between her legs. When she looked down, she saw a fluffy, gray tail disappear beneath her chair, then the full cat wandered out from the other side and looked up at her. The cat hopped up into Mabel’s lap and rubbed its face against her stomach. Armani giggled.

“That’s Barnabas,” she said. “Slasher’s furry friend.”

“The Wall lets me keep ‘im ‘ere,” Slasher said. “I don’t think he’d do well bein’ cooped up in my room at the Ranger station.”

“I’m sorry,” Mabel whispered to the cat as she stroked its neck and back. “I accidentally stepped on ‘is tail before.”

“When you were snoopin’, you mean,” Feather chimed in.

Armani glanced at Feather with a frustrated expression, then said, “Hush, Feather. How could one be snooping if they’re welcome anywhere in the house.” She looked back at Mabel and smiled again. “I’m sure another question you have is about why on Earth we’d leave your room unlocked when it would appear that you’re supposed to be our prisoner. After all, I did have these three kidnap you.” Armani gestured to Feather, Slasher, and the Wall. “And, yes, I will use that term because it was what we did, but I assure you, it was for your own good.

“I knew you wouldn’t come willingly because of the trust those criminals have convinced you to put in them, but I want to make it clear, Mabel, that you are not our captive. You are simply bait for the Outlaws that adopted you and were turning you against the law. You’re free to wander the house as you please and even go outside if you so choose. When your former allies do come, though, I will need you to remain indoors. For your safety, of course.”

“Formerallies?” Mabel repeated quietly. “But they’re still my friends. I hope you don’t expect me to sit by completely idly and let you take ‘em to jail.”

“I understand how you feel. I know the three of you have been through a lot together in the short time you’ve known each other, but I assure you that those men are not to be trusted. They are Outlaws after all. They’ve both done unspeakable things to accrue the bounties on their heads. Trust me on this: you will be better off away from those two.”

Mabel threw her hands down and frightened Barnabas who promptly leapt from her lap and scurried back into the dining room. “Trust you?” Mabel said. Slasher watched Barnabas worryingly and Orator scowled at the girl again, but Armani spread her hands on the table in a gesture to calm their nerves. “I can’t trust you. You said yerself, you kidnapped me. For my whole life, Rangers’ve done nothin’ but bad to me an’ the people around me.”

“I’m well aware of how your family suffered years ago at the hands of Rangers led by Lester Langley,” Armani said, her smile barely holding on. Mabel froze and looked at Armani. The name alone sent shivers down her spine and caused a cold sweat to break out on her forehead. “The Greenes were a good people,” Armani said. “It is unfortunate that they were the victims of such a terrible man.”

“How do you…” Mabel whimpered. “I’ve never told…”

“I know much about you, Mabel. You may think that a girl like you would go completely unnoticed by the Government, but this you can trust me on: nobody goes unnoticed in the Valley Strip. Not even the urchins of society or the masses displaced and mistreated while Lester Langley was in power. I know what he was capable of. I grew up in the Ridge where he first began his political campaigning.” Armani looked deep into Mabel’s eyes, her smile completely faded then, but Mabel didn’t feel attacked. It felt to her more like an embrace; she sensed that Armani somehow felt what she felt at the mention of that name even though despite the difference in age. After a tense minute, Armani’s gaze retracted from Mabel’s soul and the smile returned to her face. “I can feel it, Mabel, that you have a strong desire for justice in your heart. And I think that under the right guidance, you would make a fine Ranger one day.”

“What…?” Mabel said almost silently.

“Much has changed over the last several years. Rangers truly are symbols and keepers of justice now, despite what their power was used for in the past. It was terrible what your family and others like them endured under the clutches of oppression. You were used and abused by the very power sworn to protect you, but that was years ago. Rangers operate under a new status quo. Plus, the Academy could finally provide you with the education that you’ve always wanted to have since being kept from school by Lest—.”

“Stop,” Mabel interrupted. “Don’t say his name again.” She stood from her chair and turned to exit the kitchen through the way she came. Her hunger had faded

Feather moved away from the wall he had been leaning against saying, “Where d’ya think you’re goin’,” but before he stopped Mabel, Armani called his name and gave him a look of disapproval. Mabel moved past the Ranger without resistance from anyone in the room. Armani stood and wandered to the dining room, too, to see Mabel opening the front door.

“Don’t stray too far,” Armani said before Mabel walked outside and shut the door behind her. Slasher stood behind Armani, also looking at the front door.

“You sure it’s best to let ‘er wander so much?”

“I meant it when I said she’s smart,” Armani answered. “She’ll know what’s best for herself.”

Outside, Mabel took in her surroundings. Green grass filled the plot of land that the Cummings residence sat on. The yard was big with the neighbors’ houses sitting about 20 yards to the left and right and a long gravel path lead from the front of the estate to the main road. A white fence surrounded the yard. The area looked peaceful like any high-end suburban neighborhood. For a moment, Mabel thought about sprinting down the gravel path and bursting through the white gate to run from the Rangers, but the hot air was sobering, and she quickly came to her senses much like the night before. What good would running do her? When she was inevitably caught, it would only encourage Armani and the Band of Lovers to lock her up in her room and she’d lose any bit of freedom they were granting her now, even if it was just an attempt to win her over.

She decided it best to behave herself for the time being and use her privileges to plan an escape once Curtis and Sly come for her. She looked down the wooden porch’s stairs to a carriage parked on the gravel path. She took a step down the soft wooden stairs; the finish on the wood guaranteed her safety against splinters. The gravel was initially sharp on the bottoms of her bare feet, but the slight pain quickly faded. She examined the carriage; it was white and had a proper cabin as opposed to the simple hood on the cart she had been riding in. Two horses drew the carriage, but at the moment were standing obediently and awaiting their owners to return. One more horse was tied to the bottom of one of the staircase’s banisters. She recognized its bulky form as the one belonging to the Wall.

Mabel walked around the side of the house—the soft grass feeling much nicer on her feet than the rough gravel—and found an open barn on the backside of the house serving as a stable. Three more horses were fenced inside the building, and she spotted an attendant inside, as well. At first, she stayed hidden, but then decided that it didn’t matter whether these people saw her or not. She was told that she was welcome to explore the house and she assumed that meant the outside, too. As she watched the attendant tend to the horses inside the barn, she noticed another servant walk out of a small tool shed in the back corner of the yard holding a pitchfork.

The servant glanced at Mabel but didn’t greet her in any manner before walking into the barn to help the other attendant. Mabel finished her revolution of the house and took note of just how large the house really was. It was only two stories high, but each floor was very long and wide. Not to mention that the porch stretched along the entire front of the ground floor and even wrapped part way around one side. Mabel decided that she could escape through a window on the second floor and use the roof over the porch to safely descend to the ground, but she also wasn’t sure whether any Ranger would be left to guard her when the time came.

The window from her room didn’t lead over the porch, so she would have to access one of the other rooms first, none of which she had explored yet. It was a peculiar place to keep a hostage; unsuspecting, sure, but a regular house surrounded by neighbors seemed far too risky of a place to lure gun-wielding Outlaws. Perhaps Armani knew that Curtis and Sly wouldn’t want to wreak too much havoc on a quiet suburban neighborhood, so they’d be easier to capture. Whatever the case, Mabel needed to explore inside and familiarize herself with her prison while she had the chance.

***

The sun was halfway below the horizon by the time Curtis and Sly saw the silhouette of Yellowtusk in the distance. Curtis stopped the carriage and Sly guided Firefly close to the bench to speak with Curtis. “I think the cart will draw too much attention to us with the state it’s in,” Sly said. Curtis agreed and hopped down from the bench to untie his metallic steed. Meanwhile, Sly gathered supplies from the carriage. Once the two were ready to head into town, they saddled up and trotted leisurely the rest of the way. “Let’s hope the cart’s still there when we get back,” Sly joked. “Don’t you think a horse wrapped entirely in cloth will also draw wandering eyes?”

“Not as much as a horse made of smooth steel,” Curtis replied.

“Fair enough,” Sly agreed with a sideways nod. Once near the edges of the city, Curtis and Sly dismounted their horses and took hold of their reins to walk alongside them and reduce the distance from which they could be seen through the crowds of street goers. The streets were bustling with civilians enjoying a cool evening after a hot day. As the middle night of the weekend, the hard workers of Yellowtusk took advantage of having no work in the morning, and therefore stayed out late and partook in weekend festivities. Unbeknownst to the masses, however, thunder cracked in the distance as a storm brewed among their homes.

Click here for a map of the journey so far.

A bell chimed from downstairs and was followed by Slasher calling Mabel’s name. “Dinner!” he shouted up the stairs. Mabel closed the book she had been reading—a romance novella she found in one drawer of the bedside table. She wasn’t very interested in the subject matter but found the grouchy gardener character particularly compelling and hoped that he would cause riveting mischief throughout the otherwise boringly cliché plot. She sat up from the bed and left the novella on one of the pillows, then entered the hallway.

A servant was dusting off the small tables spaced throughout the hallway and nodded with a smile upon seeing Mabel. As she explored the house throughout the day, Mabel often found the servants of the property performing what she assumed to be their regular duties—cleaning and tidying, keeping up general maintenance around the house. She counted five total, including the two yard workers she saw while circling the house earlier that morning. From what she could tell, they were all friendly and wouldn’t pose a threat to her escape when the time came. In fact, she was certain that they had nothing to do with the business of the Rangers staying at the residence and were purely under the service of the Cummings family, specifically the Wall himself since he was the only primary resident currently. She found herself thinking how lonely it would be living alone in such a large house.

What she knew about house servants was that they were more like employees than roommates and probably didn’t provide the same company as friends or family, so it made sense to her that the Wall let the Band of Lovers stay there, too. Mabel snapped herself out of the thought and tried to remind herself that the Band of Lovers were her enemies, even if they did let her wander the premises freely and provided her with food and entertainment. They’re only tryin’ t’win me over, she thought. But whatever’s cookin’ downstairs does smell delicious. At the bottom of the stairs, she saw that the Band of Lovers, except the Wall, were already present and the dining table displayed an abundance of immaculate looking and smelling food.

Mabel had never seen such a feast in person. She swallowed as saliva flooded her mouth and her jaw fell open slightly. The warm light from the glistening chandelier and candles scattered about the table beckoned her to devour everything on display. Feather, Slasher, Orator, the Hunter, and Lady Love all turned to Mabel as she stood in the cased entrance to the room. Normally such attention from this crowd would intimidate her, but she was distracted by the feast and paid no mind to their gazes. Unlike that morning during breakfast, however, no one gave her an aggressive glare or looked away in loathing, but instead wore neutral expressions or even light smiles. Armani, of course, greeted the girl with a wide grin and bright eyes, and raised her arms in a welcoming gesture.

Before Armani spoke, the Wall entered the room from the kitchen-side entrance wearing an apron and oven mitts and carrying a large, lidded platter. He leaned over the table and placed the dish in the middle where a space had been left for it. “My dear, Mabel, sit,” Armani said in her gentle half-whisper. She pointed her hand toward the head of the table opposite where she sat. Seven chairs total surrounded the rectangular table, but there were more lining one wall and plenty of space at the table should more people have been gathered. After not having found any other members of the Band of Lovers throughout her exploration of the premises, she guessed that everyone she had met at breakfast were the only ones staying at the house, and the placement of chairs at dinner confirmed it.

Mabel was unsure how many members the Band of Lovers had in total or if more would arrive later, but something comforted her about not meeting anyone new at dinner. It also made her wonder where or when the servants would eat. Mabel approached the empty chair at the opposite head from Armani and sat down, then the Wall pushed her in from behind and looked over her from his towering heights. With a wide smile, he said, “Please, eat as much as you want,” then proceeded to remove his apron and mitts and take a seat in the empty chair on one side of the table.

“Milton loves to cook,” Armani explained. “Even before he inherited this property, he would always cook when he stayed here and wouldn’t let the servants do any of the prep or clean up, either.” She giggled. “He treats the house staff very well. When we’re here, we invite them to dinner every evening, but they’re so traditional. Some of them have been working here since they were very young and are as old as grandma and grandpa Cummings would be, but they refuse to take a day off, even when Milton isn’t around. They always opt to eat in a previously designated portion of the house. Of course, Milton doesn’t let them cook their own food while he's around and graciously cooked enough for them tonight, too. And he’s such a wonderful chef, isn’t he?”

Armani looked around the table and received nods and affirmations from the Band of Lovers. The Wall sat silently but smiled at the praise. Armani’s statement was evident, too, by what Mabel could see and smell. Baskets of fresh golden-brown biscuits, a large bowl of greens and other vegetables, plates of side dishes and bowls of sauces and fillings—your typical holiday banquet seemingly for no occasion at all. “An’ this is our favorite dish of his,” Payton said as she reached for the central platter’s lid, but Orator lightly smacked her hand away. Payton recoiled and winced from the metallic slap.

“Whose turn to say grace?” Slasher asked.

“Feather,” Armani answered. “Would you do the honors?”

“Of course, m‘lady,” Feather replied and joined the others as they bowed their heads, eyes closed. Mabel copied their postures being less familiar with the traditions of formal gatherings and was confused whether she should clasp her hands together or not seeing as only half of the others did so while the rest simply rested them in their laps. She decided her lap was the best position and listened to Feather’s prayer for a few seconds before getting distracted by a fluffy, gray tail as it snuck under the table, tickling the legs it wove between. After Feather’s thanks, everyone opened their eyes and began to serve themselves.

The Wall revealed the primary dish to be a large, cooked bird, perfectly browned and topped with seasonings and garnish. More vegetables surrounded it on the platter and glistened in the cozy lighting of the dining room. Homely conversation and friendly laughter were quick to fill the air and Mabel again found herself forgetting the initial reason for her being there. Her thoughts drifted from her mission even if only for a short time while preoccupied by the teasing and jokes, Fipo’s singing from the chandelier above the table, and Slasher sneaking food to Barnabas under the table even though nobody minded if the cat shared in their feast.

***

Sly looked up after feeling a water droplet hit his cheek. Clouds overhead signaled incoming rain, the second storm in the span of a week; very unusual for the Valley Strip, but Sly wasn’t against it. “Looks like it’s going to rain again,” he said aloud.

Curtis glanced upward, too and nodded. “Could help with cover,” he said. Sly agreed. The two of them walked calmly into Yellowtusk with their horses by their sides as the few drops of water became many and soon morphed into a complete downpour. The dusty roads of Yellowtusk darkened and dampened as a light mist creeped along the ground. They had planned to wait until dark to enter town and use the cover of night to lessen the chance of being recognized, but with the clouds shrouding the last bit of setting sunlight and the rain obscuring long-ranged vision, they saw no reason to delay.

“Okay, Dawn,” Sly started, “remember, we don’t know which members of the Band of Lovers will be waiting for us, if not all of them. So, let’s not rush into this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Curtis groaned. “I ain’t stupid. I wanna rescue Mabel and nothin’ more. In fact, the less we have to fight the better.”

“Agreed. Come on, this should be the way to the Band’s compound.”

“Hey, aside from the Band o’ Lovers, is there any chance there could be other Rangers stationed in this city?”

“Yes, so we’ll need to watch out for them, too. Even at the Band of Lovers’ building, there will probably be several Rangers who aren’t members roaming the place. In most cases, Rangers who are trying to join a Doyen’s group will work under them for a while before actually joining. You know, doing general stuff like standing guard or patrolling, general upkeep, filling in for any members not on duty, whatever.”

“Great. So, it’s possible we’ll be facing all nine members of the Band o’ Lovers, plus Lady Love, and any other Rangers invited to the party.”

“It’s possible. I’d say unlikely, though.”

“I’d say now’s a good time to assume the worst.”

“How about we prepare for the worst, but assume everything will be okay?”

“Sounds like contradictory thinkin’ to me, but, hey, if it works for you…” The Outlaws meandered through town trying to be inconspicuous in their path toward the Band of Lovers’ station. The rain fell heavier overtime and gave them greater cover, but also made it difficult to watch for anyone trailing them or to spot Rangers and law enforcement from far away. They stopped talking for the time being.

***

At the dinner table, Mabel laughed along with the Rangers and smiled merrily, but scarcely talked. Her mind was preoccupied with her plan to search the upstairs for the best escape route. She tried to think of the best way to excuse herself from the table and decided it wouldn’t be too rude just to say she was done, especially considering that nobody had taken another bite in the past hour and were simply enjoying each other’s company by then. She turned to Armani for permission and the mirth died down a bit.

“I wanna get back to a book I found in my room,” Mabel said.

“Yes, that is fine,” Armani sighed, exhausted from all the laughing. “In fact, we all need to talk about work now, anyway. And don’t worry about your plate; we’ll take care of it all.” Mabel excused herself and went back upstairs while the Rangers stood and stretched. The Wall began to pick up a couple of empty plates, but Armani waved a hand. “Maybe let the servant staff do the cleaning tonight, Milton,” she said. “We need to be quick with our discussion.” She turned to the rest of the group. “The study?” As they migrated from the dining room to another part of the house, Mabel slowly walked toward her room.

She didn’t like that she couldn’t hear the Rangers downstairs anymore and didn’t know where they had gone. No matter: she had to conduct her search and hope anyone who came upstairs wouldn’t consider her behavior too suspicious. Who am I kiddin’? she thought. For as nice as Armani’s bein’, ain’t no way they haven’t been keepin’ tabs on me. Mabel looked down the hall. The top floor of the Cummings household had a simple layout: the top of the stairs was a T-section of hallways. Looking left, Mabel saw a straight hall housing a door one either side and a window at the end. The design was mirrored to the right of the staircase, too, and the hall leading straight on from the stairs was lined with two doors on either side.

The far end of the hall led to a wider area. After the two doors on the left was a larger open room that looked to be a simple sitting room, though Mabel didn’t quite understand the purpose of dedicating a whole room to only lounging sofas and reclining chairs. Opposite that on the right side was a large bathroom. The wide area at the end of the hall looked down on the first floor’s backdoor with a banistered walkway forming a U-shape around the foyer space. One more room was to the left of the rear foyer and on the right, another set of stairs leading to the first floor. Mabel started from the front and made her way room-to-room. Remembering that the wrap-around porch connected primarily to the left side of the house, she focused her attention to that half of the floor.

The rooms to the left of the staircase were bedrooms with window-access to the roof over the wrap-around porch, but they appeared to be lived in—presumably by Rangers given how spacious they were for only one bed, though a large one at that—and thought it too risky to use them for escape in case someone walked in during the escape. After more thought, she figured the sitting room would be safest given that the Rangers would have no reason to be there while Curtis and Sly invaded, but then she considered what to do after getting outside. She wasn’t worried about having to jump one story to the ground; if it meant escape, she could deal with a sprained leg or even a lightly broken one.

From her scouting sessions outside, she saw that a tall fence boxed in the entire property. Luckily, she had a plan for climbing it. She doubted her own strength to be able to hoist herself over the fence, but she had noticed a stack of crates in the back corner of the yard that she could use to get over the fence. So, all she needed to do was climb out the window and onto the roof over the porch, drop to the ground as gracefully as possible, then run to the back corner of the fence and use the crate pile to hop over. That third step was the most worrisome, though. She considered that she may be overthinking everything and that escaping might not be as difficult as she was anticipating, but she wanted to prepare for the worst.

Running through the yard could prove difficult if the Rangers were scattered about the property. Many of them would likely be distracted by her friends, she thought, but there could be others stationed around for any number of reasons. If she was noticed as she ran through the yard, she didn’t doubt that the Rangers, under the pressure of battle, might take drastic measures to prevent her escape. The thought terrified her. She considered sitting in her room and just waiting for Curtis and Sly to come get her, but she wanted to be useful. Ideally, she could escape before Curtis and Sly even began their assault, but the Rangers would be even more alert while on the watch for the Outlaws. Mabel looked down the hall to the room next to the rear-foyer. Getting any extra distance toward the fence would be useful, so she wandered to that back room and slowly opened the door.

***

Downstairs, the Band of Lovers gathered in the study at the rear of the home. The room housed a couple of desks and several high bookshelves each filled with a wide variety of stories, histories, encyclopedias, maps, and textbooks. A long couch in the middle of the room faced one wall decorated primarily by a large tapestry and a few large paintings. Armani stood in front of a mantlepiece on the same wall that held several knick-knacks and ornaments and sat above an electric fireplace—a rarity anywhere outside the Big City. The rest of the group found seats around the room and listened intently to what their leader was saying.

“Our top priority is the arrest and capture of the Outlaws Curtis ‘Dawn’ Conrad and Nathan ‘Sly’ Bowman, preferably alive. As with every bounty, our pay and our reputation are on the line. Not only do both things matter to us as individuals wishing to make our own ways in this world, but also to us as a group trying to support the whole however we can.” Armani sighed and bowed her head saying, “However, if detaining one or both of the Outlaws alive is deemed improbable…” She raised her head and looked at her fellow Rangers. “Then we will do what we must to ensure justice is served. I trust each of you to make that decision appropriately.”

“What about the kid?” Feather inquired with a raised hand. Armani looked at him directly.

“Mabel Greene will be secured and watched over at all times,” Armani answered. “Payton.” she said, turning to the Hunter.

“Yes, ma’am,” Payton replied after a moment. Armani nodded.

***

Back upstairs, Mabel opened the door to the darkened back room. With the light from the hall shining in, Mabel could tell the room was used for storage. Crates, shelves, and boxes organized miscellaneous things among the dusty furniture and decorations. Mabel took a few steps inside, but halted her exploration upon realizing that the room contained no windows from which to climb onto the wrap-around porch’s roof. Before leaving, however, she was drawn deeper by what she could tell were portraits of the Cummings family. The first portrait she noticed was of Milton Cummings—the Wall. He was younger in the painting, though still quite bulky.

The next portrait she found was of an old man, she assumed the Wall’s grandfather, then a portrait of his grandparents together, and another of the three of them. He towered over them even in his youth. Mabel could see time pass through the paintings. The portrait of the Wall’s grandparents together without him presented their much older age, perhaps even how they looked soon before passing. There were no recent paintings of the Wall, however, and she found that the farther she walked into the room, the younger he appeared in each display. She found a second portrait of the three of them together, this one she guessed was from when the Wall graduated from the Ranger Academy based on his attire.

The next portrait was of the elderly couple in front of the large house. At least two dozen paintings were lined up in that room and toward the end she saw paintings of the Wall with his grandparents when he was only a child, and the couple was much younger. At the end of the row was one painting with a sheet covering it. Mabel slowly lifted the cover to reveal a portrait of the Wall as a tiny toddler in the arms of a beautiful young couple. Something was different about that painting, though, and it took a moment for Mabel to realize that the couple in that specific portrait was not the same couple as in the others. She studied the painting before it clicked in her mind.

***

“You all know your posts,” Armani continued. “It shouldn’t be necessary for all of you to be deployed tonight, but we’ve all seen how crafty this pair have proven themselves to be. We will not be caught off guard by Sly’s cunning or Dawn’s Spell. Let’s do our duties and earn a handsome check from the Government.”

“Yeah,” Slasher called out, and a couple of the others cheered “Woo!”

“Time to get moving,” Armani announced. “We’ll have plenty of time to set up at the branch building.”

***

Those must be the Wall’s parents, Mabel thought. She looked back down the line at all the other paintings depicting the Wall’s grandparents and wondered what could have happened to their children to have to adopt their grandson at such a young age. She turned back to the covered picture and smiled at the young boy. In all the paintings, the Wall wore a gentle smile, but in the portrait of him in his parents’ arms, he radiated joy—the type of happiness only a young child naïve to the cruelties of the world could express. At least he had someone to look after him, Mabel thought, then her smile faded. She replaced the sheet on the last portrait and turned around to find a dusty mirror displaying her whole body’s reflection to her. Mabel looked herself up and down, then concentrated on her face.

The Wall’s parents had died long before Mabel’s did—long before she was even born from what she assumed based on the portraits—and she could see how much the Wall had changed in the time since. Looking in the mirror, Mabel could see how much she had grown and changed in the time since she last saw her family, too. The past week alone had been incredibly influential, and she wasn’t sure where’d she be if she hadn’t joined Curtis and left the streets of Coyote Run. She was happy to have joined him and Sly on a journey across the Mesa Frontier, but she also couldn’t help thinking of what her life might be like if she had grown up with her family in Thorntree.

If she had been allowed to go to school and make friends, eat home-cooked meals, and be the girl she never even got to dream about as a kid. Mabel swallowed as a tear streamed down her face. No, she thought and wiped a hand across her cheek. I can’t dwell on that now. I have to think about the future. I won’t let these Rangers take away my family… Not again. She turned away from the mirror and made her way out of the room. Just as she gently clicked the door shut behind her, she heard Payton call her name from the stairwell at the back of the house. Mabel flinched and spun around suddenly; she could hear Payton’s footsteps echoing. She moved in a mixed fashion of running and tiptoeing to reach her bedroom just as Payton entered the main hallway.

Mabel scrambled onto the bed, grabbed the book, and pretended to read it as Payton opened the door and walked inside. “Hey, kid,” the Hunter said in a straight tone.

“Hi,” Mabel quietly greeted. After a pause, she grinned and said, “So, um, no hard feelings ‘bout the whole shootin’ at us thing and me knockin’ you over the head with a rock?”

Payton huffed and scrunched her nose a bit before replying, “Don’t think I’d let it happen again.” Mabel lowered her eyes and rested the book in her lap understanding that Payton wasn’t just there to talk. “It’s time to go,” Payton stated matter-of-factly.

“Time to go?” Mabel questioned. She met Payton’s eyes again. “Where?”

“Did ya think we’d let you have your own little spot all night?”

***

The streets were already devoid of people by the time the orange glow on the horizon beneath the clouds was fading to black. The rain fell harder than before and made it more difficult for Curtis and Sly to appear inconspicuous remaining on the streets, but they were careful to avoid anybody who resembled a police officer and stuck to alleys when possible. The branch building, however, was on its own plot in the center of town surrounded by roads on all sides and guarded by a sleek barred fence. The pair scoped out the property from a nearby side street and assessed the situation.

From where they snooped, they could see that most of the lights in the building were on, though none of the doors were guarded as they had expected. Sly suggested that the extra Rangers that normally hung around must have been dismissed. “I guess there wouldn’t be any point in putting non-members in danger for a fight so clearly reserved for Armani and her group,” Sly said.

“Is it not crazy,” Curtis started in a slightly raised voice to talk over the rain, “fer two Outlaws t’be knowin’ly allowed to walk freely into a town and have a shootout with a bunch o’ Rangers? That seems a little crazy t’me.”

“It’s certainly extravagant, yes, but honestly not unheard of when it comes to Doyens. The rules tend to go out the window for their quarrels.”

“Kinda makes me worried about what we’re walkin’ into.”

Sly nodded. “Look at it this way: we might be facing off against fewer people we originally planned for and there’s a chance that when we grab Mabel and run, the rest of the town probably won’t want to try and stop us assuming we really show what we’re capable of.”

“What are we capable of? There’re only two of us and only I have a Spell, and kind of a lousy one at that, especially when against multiple opponents.”

“Well, hey, if we really weren’t all that, then we probably wouldn’t have garnered the attention of a Doyenne to begin with, so I’d say we’re capable.”

“Maybe. Let’s not get carried away with that thought. I’m guessin’ they’ll have every present eye watchin’ us through windows and from hidin’ spots. Things are obviously a little too quiet ‘round there. They’re waitin’.”

“We can still stick with our original plan. Sneaking around back seems predictable, so I vote we take it head on through the front.” The two of them straightened themselves out and prepared to advance onto the property, being sure to tie up their horses in an alley out of sight from the streets.

Curtis readjusted his hat and flicked some water off his face, then said, “I really hope they use restraint like you’re thinkin’ they will, or we won’t make it halfway ‘cross the garden.”

“They will,” Sly reassured. “Of all the places in town, this is a smart one for a potential firefight since it’s set away in its own square and away from populated buildings. That said, I doubt they want to risk anything, so they’ll be careful.” The darkness and mist provided by the storm hid their shapes as they ran low to the ground. The thudding of the rain and clapping of thunder also helped disguise their splashing footsteps up to the front gate. The gate was left unlocked which was more concerning than relieving, but the two pushed on knowing well what lied ahead. Flowers of all kinds created colorful patterns around the fence.

Almost all the plants in the garden were native to the Valley Strip except one spectacle in particular: the roses. Residents of Yellowtusk walked along the outside of the gate every day to look at and smell the wafted scent of the roses that Armani herself painstakingly ensured could survive in such a hot and dry place. Sly led as he and Curtis moved swiftly from the gate toward the front of the building, its three stories looming overhead. The building was quite large, boasting room for sizeable bedrooms, a main foyer, two meeting rooms, two lounges, a head office for Armani, and a full-sized kitchen. Sly had relayed everything to Curtis earlier that day, but he was unaware of what the basement was used for.

The pair were no more than 10 yards from the front door when Sly noticed movement in one of the second-floor windows and halted his advance. Curtis abruptly stopped behind him and waited for Sly to explain the pause. Sly gestured to the window and said, “I saw someone move up there. I couldn’t see much, but there was definitely someone there.”

“Well, if you think we’re gonna get shot at, shouldn’t we be runnin’ instead of standin’ here with targets on our backs?”

“I don’t know if they saw us or if—." Sly cut himself off when one of the double doors at the entrance to the building clicked and opened wide to reveal Feather who stepped onto the lantern-lit porch.

“They definitely saw us,” Curtis groaned. “I think the front door was the wrong choice after all.”

“I don’t think any other path would have led to a different outcome,” Sly retorted as he stood tall to face Feather.

“Y’all need better security,” Curtis joked. “I mean, we just walked right up ‘ere.”

“Well, I’d thought Lady Love said she had guests,” Feather replied. “Not pests.”

“Where’s your bird?” Sly asked.

“Fipo doesn’t like flyin’ in the rain,” Feather admitted. “Besides, she deserves to rest from time to time.” He paused and looked between the two Outlaws for a moment, then continued. “I’m surprised y’all came ‘ere. The kid mean that much to ya? Enough to risk yer freedom, maybe yer lives?”

“Where is she, Feather?” Curtis shouted over the thunder and the rain.

“Doesn’t matter,” the Ranger replied. “Point is that you’rehere now, an’ I suggest y’come quietly. We don’t wanna use force if we don’t ‘ave to.”

“Give us the girl and we’ll be on our way without a fuss.” Curtis angled his head to allow the rain to pour off the brim of his hat and stay out of his face. Feather was backlit by the hooded lamps lighting the porch, but Curtis could still see his hand twitching over his holstered revolver; looking right in front of him, Curtis saw Sly taking a similar stance.

This whole situation’s off, Curtis thought. Sly’s bein’ hasty. Where’re the Band o’ Lovers? The three of them stood silent for a long moment. The rhythmic tapping of the rain and distant drone of thunder seemed to be on repeat and the same minute of tense stillness looped forever until a move was made. Feather shouted.

“Now!” the Ranger called, and his command was succeeded by the sound of a heavy mass rushing through the rain, but not on foot. In the corner of their vision, Curtis and Sly saw swinging down from a higher place a poncho-clad man soaked from the rain as though he’d been waiting in the darkness and mist. The man swung on a rope tied to somewhere even higher on the branch building’s exterior and approached rapidly from the right of the Outlaws. The fall was swift and too sudden to react to. Sly was slammed off the path leading to the porch and tumbled through the well-kempt grass which was flooded with rainwater.

The attacker released the rope and landed firmly in the grass with a heavy thud, then stood slowly to reveal their face in the dim light from the porch—Orator stared down at Sly and paid no mind to Curtis who swiftly readied his revolvers, one in each hand. Curtis’s attention was dragged off the path with Orator’s entrance, but he snapped back to face Feather who had also already drawn his weapon. “You really wanna make this a fire fight?” Feather questioned. “You know you’d lose this one.”

Curtis thought for a moment. That guy over there is Eddie Ewing, ‘Orator.’ He was remembering what he and Sly had discussed on their ride toward town. He’s got a couple o’ heavy-duty six-shots; uses some kind o’ bracers to help absorb the recoil. Where’d he come from? He scanned the shadows that made up the façade of the building but couldn’t make out any bodies hiding along the walls and columns. The Band of Lovers were somewhere, watching, waiting to strike upon command. He looked back at Feather who grinned confidently. Curtis considered his options. His Spell was in the back of his mind, but it wouldn’t be worth using it against Feather. It probably wouldn’t work and he’d be out of his one use.

He could try using it against Orator, he thought. No, he had to leave Orator up to Sly so he could focus on the Ranger in front of him. The Band had the advantage being on their own turf, and they had had time to prepare for the Outlaws’ arrival. They don’t have Spells, though, Curtis thought. Not most of them, anyway. And it doesn’t seem, yet, that they wanna turn us into holed cheese. He studied Feather’s posture and hovered his own fingers over the triggers of his revolvers. No, they won’t take the first shots, but as soon as Sly or I shoot, they won’t hold back. Curtis weighed his options and decided to keep things lead-free for as long as possible. That was the only chance they had. Curtis loosened his grip on his guns but didn’t drop them.

His fingers retracted from the triggers, and he prepared to run at Feather with the hope that the Ranger would refrain from firing first and instead engage Curtis in a fist fight. But as Curtis’s hands relaxed, thunder sounded not from the sky, but from within Sly’s own hand. The ex-Ranger’s seven-shot revolver sparked, and a bullet ricocheted off Orator’s left arm. The sound of metal on metal rang through the yard and made Curtis flinch. Not a second later in response, Feather fired his own gun and grazed Curtis’s arm, but the Ranger’s aim was off from being startled himself. Curtis groaned and ducked to the ground, then looked over at Sly who was still prone, but raised his arm and weapon at Orator.

Orator’s also raised him an arm and pulled his poncho up to cover his face in a way, Curtis recognized, similar to Bad Mouth’s defensive stance. Orator lowered his arm and grasped at his poncho to pull it over his head and off. He wore only a tank top under his poncho which allowed Curtis and Sly to see the man’s disfigurement entirely. Two shiny arms were revealed, the metal coming to a staggered end at his shoulders where messy welding and scar tissue meshed Orator’s flesh and mechanical augments together. Even Feather—whose gaze was drawn to his ally after realizing that Curtis was not the one who shot first—grimaced at the sight. He didn’t display the look of a first-time viewing, but rather one of disgusted recognition.

The enhanced Ranger stood over Sly undeterred by the shot and grabbed the gun, but Sly fired another shot which just barely scratched Orator’s cheek. Orator forced the gun from Sly’s hand and tossed it aside, then wound his fist back for a punch. Sly rolled to the side as the metal fist pounded the softened ground with an earth-shaking thump. Sly stood and watched as his opponent rose again slowly. No emotion could be read in his expression. He was like a machine performing a duty: neutral and set on completing its course.

***

Thunder, again, broke the monotonous pitter-patter of the second rainfall that week. Mabel sat on a bed not unlike the one she had slept in the night before. The new room was larger than the one she slept in and contained more dressers, a bigger bed still with side tables, and other decorations placed appropriately throughout. It wasn’t what she had expected after Payton made a big deal of leaving the first dwelling, but the relocation did foil her plans of escape. The curtains on the windows were open giving a view of the stormy night. Payton leaned against one dresser across the room. A lit lantern on one bedside table allowed the woman and girl to see each other’s faces even if only dimly. Payton stared at Mabel and Mabel stared back. Silence for a minute, except for the rain on the window and muffled thunder on occasion. Then, Payton spoke.

“I think yer caretakers’ve finally arrived,” she said. “That’s what they are to you more or less, right? Or would you prefer the term partners-in-crime? Or friends?” Mabel stayed quiet. “I just don’t git it. Why’re you with them?” Payton gave Mabel a moment to respond but kept talking when Mabel offered no reply. “Y’know at first, I thought it wasn’t consensual; that you’d been kidnapped or tricked in some way. I see now that I was wrong.” She stood from the dresser and took a few steps toward the bed. “What is it you see in them? And what is it they see in you to let’cha tag along? You know they’re actual criminals, don’t ya?”

“You could call me a criminal, too,” Mabel finally piped up. “Even before goin’ with Curtis and Sly, I was fightin’ and stealin’ in Coyote Run. It’s what I had to do to survive.”

“A little street urchin. I know.” Payton crossed her arms and shifted her weight back a bit. “Well, I can assure you one thing: those two have done worse things than you were ever capable of even as a starvin’ runaway.”

***

Sly exhaled and grunted as he dodged and weaved past Orator’s punches, but the Orator was silent with every throw of his fists. As each metal punch narrowly missed Sly’s head and body, Sly could hear the weight behind the attacks. He, too, thought back to his fight with Bad Mouth and about how dangerous that Outlaw’s attacks really were. Orator’s augmentations seemed more refined and intentional despite the messy connections to his body. His enhancements seemed more worked-on, like whoever created them put more time into it. Sly also couldn’t help but wonder who was responsible for such handywork. He wondered why an Outlaw and a Ranger would both have such similar surgeries.

He had thought Bad Mouth’s arm and leg to be unique—also grotesque. He couldn’t consider it much in the moment, however, with Orator’s attacks coming one after the other and unceasing. Orator showed no signs of fatigue even after a dozen blows, but Sly was starting to tire. After Feather’s first shot, the Ranger hadn’t fired again despite Sly’s actions, so Curtis decided to stick to his own plan. He holstered his revolvers and charged Feather. The two men collided bodies and exchanged blows in the warm glow of the lanterns. Feather continued to hold his gun in hand. He kept his finger off the trigger and whipped at Curtis with it instead. Curtis blocked the blows aimed at his head but felt the assault in his shoulders and ribs.

***

Payton spoke firmly to Mabel. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the crimes committed. I’ll start with Dawn. Twelve gold’s not pocket change fer anybody, ‘cept those livin’ in the penthouse district o’ the Big City. Y’never wondered why he’s got such a high bounty on ‘is head?”

“I know it’s artificially inflated ‘cause he possesses a Spell,” Mabel answered.

Payton raised an eyebrow. “Sure, that’s somewhat true, but his Spell was almost unknown until recently, so the increase wasn’t a lot. Nah, most of it was from the time ‘e spent in the Southern Slick. You can call that region a lawless land, but that don’t mean the Government has no eyes there. That place is a breedin’ ground fer sin and crime. The worst o’ the worst hang ‘round down there—”

“I know he’s killed people before. It doesn’t bother me. He regrets doin’ it and he’s made every effort to avoid anymore.”

“Yet, he’s still directly responsible for one just a day ago. Ain’t that right?”

“That was in self-defense, nothing more. He hated that he had to do it. He wouldn’t talk to me or Sly about it; still doesn’t want to.”

Payton huffed. “If that’s the worst he’s told you ‘bout, then you don’t know the half of it.”

*** 

Curtis endured Feather’s rapid strikes until he had an opening to fight back. The Outlaw threw a quick punch, then another, and another until he was completely on the offensive. Feather evaded most of the punches and danced his way around the porch. He took a long step away from Curtis and flung open a window shutter to slam Curtis’s face. Feather kicked the stunned Outlaw’s knee causing him to topple, but Curtis lunged at Feather’s lower body to bring him to the wet deck, too. Meanwhile in the yard, Sly’s movements were slowing. Orator landed a hit on the ex-Ranger’s arm.

The pressure exerted from the punch sent pain hurtling through the rest of Sly’s body. Then, another hit. The fist collided with his stomach and forced all the air from Sly’s lungs as ripples of muscle and skin burst out from the point of impact. Sly dodged the succeeding attacks but couldn’t find an opening to strike. He knew he could never beat Orator in a fist fight, but every time he attempted to raise one of his guns to fire, Orator would knock his arm back down. He tried once more to take a shot, but this time Orator grabbed the gun.

With a swift twist of his wrist, the gun was dislodged from Sly’s hand. Orator swung the gun at Sly’s face and bashed Sly’s jaw. Sly stumbled, barely preventing himself from falling over completely, but the heavy rainfall, nonstop barrage from Orator, and his own fatigue disoriented him. Orator squeezed the barrel of Sly’s revolver in his fist, crushing it not completely, but enough to prevent its proper function.

***

“Dawn’s done more than kill,” Payton stated, “though that’s bad enough when you know that he used to do it for just a quick buck. Murderin’ and robbin’ people on the streets. But whatever, you don’t care ‘bout that.” Payton stared Mabel down and the girl met the Ranger’s eyes with strength and even a hint of contempt. Payton sneered. “Yer family was mistreated by Rangers and the Government, I get that, so maybe you have an attraction to Outlaws and those against yer past abusers.

“If Dawn is the first Outlaw you’ve had any real experience with an’ he’s been pretty nice to ya, then I can see why you’d be so attached. The fact that one of our own defected and’s been playin’ along with y’all, too, doesn’t help my point, but you’ve known them what, a week? Not even.” Payton chuckled. “You don’t know the real Dawn; the one wanted dead or alive for murder, armed robbery, arson, conspiracy, kidnapping, blackmail, forgery, among other unlawful acts.”

***

Orator dropped Sly’s damaged revolver to the muddy ground as Sly tried to compose himself. He needed a plan to fight Orator. He would be lucky if his second revolver still worked after being drenched by the rain and his punches were nothing compared to Orator’s. The Ranger stomped over to Sly and hoisted him to his feet. Sly was taller than Orator, but the Ranger’s metallic arms granted him incredible strength and allowed him to grapple Sly with ease. Sly thrashed about, slammed his fists into Orator’s arms, torso, and legs, tugged at Orator’s clothing, but the grapple only tightened.

Orator rummaged around his belt while keeping one arm tucked under one of Sly’s arms and around his neck. He pulled out a silver bracelet that looked to be made from a modified cuff off a pair of shackles. Orator locked the cuff onto Sly’s right wrist just before Sly used all his strength to break free from the grip. Sly tumbled along the ground and lied muddied and exhausted for a moment.

***

Payton gestured violently with her hands as she spoke. “Dawn ain’t who you think he is or who you want him to be! He lived on the streets like you ‘til bein’ swiped up by one o’ the most dangerous Outlaws in the world, then ‘e spent almost two years in the most dangerous place in the Valley Strip. Whatever ‘e was before then is gone; he’s been re-raised under the standards of hardened criminals and ‘is record shows it. Whatever he’s showed you is either the blanketed truth or a flat out lie.”

A pause.

“You’re wrong,” Mabel said, never breaking eye contact with the Hunter. “I do know the real Curtis. I don’t care ‘bout who he was growin’ up, and I don’t care ‘bout who he’s been for the last few years. I know who ‘e is now and who he’s tryin’ t’be. He’s givin’ me and Sly a chance to change ourselves, so we’re doin’ the same fer him. Like you said, I barely know ‘im, yet he’s riskin’ everythin’ he’s got to rescue me. Rangers I’ve known ain’t never done that.”

The Hunter’s aggression and sass faded. She blinked and looked away from the girl and out the window into the torrential downpour. “Let’s talk about yer Ranger friend, then, shall we?” She looked at Mabel again.

“Ex-Ranger,” Mabel emphasized.

“Yea, that’s right. He ain’t gon’ be let back in even if he begs. He really screwed ‘imself. Y’know, Sly’s part o’ the same generation o’ Rangers as me; a year younger, I think. We didn’t get the same assignments after graduating, though. His record ain’t so clean.”

“And yours is? When you say clean, you’re not countin’ the kidnappin’ and other stuff I’m sure you’ve done?”

“Sometimes you gotta commit a little crime to stop those doin’ the most of it. Granted, most o’ the bad stuff under Sly’s belt was also done under the terms of his duty as a Ranger. Like Lady Love said, a lot has changed since those times, but obviously not everyone’s willin’ to pardon the organization as a whole, and I can’t claim that we’re totally out o’ the dark ages yet. But, oh boy, just wait ‘til you hear what Sly has done.”

“It won’t matter.” Mabel was extra firm in her statement. “I’ve heard enough. Nothin’ you tell me now is goin’ to change what I think about either o’ them. The three of us have been through enough together that I trust ‘em with my life!” Mabel stood from the bed and took a step toward Payton. “If all you’re gonna do is lecture me about the rights and wrongs of people’s pasts, then you might as well save yer breath. I won’t listen. I’m stubborn like that.” Mabel couldn’t help to grin slightly. Payton stood tall and straight and clenched her fists. The Ranger took a hard step forward, the heel of her boot sending a creak through the wood flooring, but then she stopped. Her eyes looked to Mabel, but her gaze was elsewhere.

“Feather and Orator may need assistance,” Armani said in Payton’s heart as the ring on her right pointer finger radiated warmth. “The Wall can handle the girl.” After a moment, Payton’s attention returned to her captive, but she discontinued her pursuit.

“You’re right,” Payton said. “I’ve tried convincin’ you once before. I don’t have time to waste on you anyway.” She took a pair of cuffs from her belt and grabbed Mabel’s arm. Mabel thought to resist, but ultimately saw no point. There would be many obstacles in her way after running from the Hunter on top of then being actively chased. Mabel allowed Payton to lock her to a rung that made up the bed’s headboard, then watched as Payton walked to the door and opened it. The Ranger looked to Mabel one more time. “You be good now,” Payton said, then exited and shut the door behind her.

***

Curtis and Feather brawled on the branch building’s porch, kicking and punching, neither one letting the other stand fully. Feather kicked Curtis’s chest slamming the Outlaw into the banister. Curtis grabbed Feather and forced the Ranger into the wall. They traded blows and pins until Curtis finally found himself on top and slammed Feather’s arms and head to the wood. Feather’s grip on his gun loosened and the revolver went sliding a few feet away on the deck. Feather kicked Curtis, but Curtis held strong and pinned Feather to the porch. The Outlaw punched Feather’s face several times, but Feather persisted.

They both grunted and shouted, and Curtis grew irritated and anxious at the difficulty in fighting Feather alone, much less the rest of the Band of Lovers. Curtis held Feather down as best he could with one arm and used his free hand to draw one of his revolvers. He held the gun under Feather’s chin. Feather stopped struggling and met Curtis’s eyes. They were tired eyes—the eyes of someone who didn’t want to fight anymore and desired nothing but rest. Feather chuckled. “Okay, okay, ya got me,” the Ranger said. “But this isn’t the end. Orator over there’s givin’ Sly a run for ‘is money, and the rest o’ the Band are waitin’ for ya. You don’t have to keep fightin’, Dawn. Just give yerself up peacefully.”

“That ain’t gonna happen, Feather,” Curtis said between heavy breaths.

“Fine. Then, do it already.” Feather pressed his chin into the barrel of Curtis’s revolver. “Start the real fight.” Curtis stared into Feather’s eyes. Another crazy Ranger, he thought to himself, not totally unlike Sly when they first met. He cocked the hammer on his revolver. Feather smiled and maintained the eye contact, but Curtis exhaled—he hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath—and removed the gun from Feather’s chin. Feather opened his mouth to speak, but Curtis whipped the gun against Feather’s nose, breaking it, then once more to knock the Ranger out. Curtis breathed heavily and stood to look at Feather’s limp body on the porch; the Ranger’s nose bled down his cheeks and stained the wood.

Curtis kicked Feather’s gun off the porch and directly into the rain where it was quickly soaked. He leaned against the banister and watched Sly and Orator’s fight for a moment, but before he could move in to help Sly, a sudden loud sound—similar to but much shorter than that of thunder—was followed by chunks of dislodged wood flying past Curtis from the support column he was holding onto and a bullet just nearly missing its mark. Sly stood ten feet from Orator hesitant about his next move, but as soon as Orator moved to draw one of his heavy-duty pistols, Sly raised his own hand and revealed that he had taken one of Orator’s guns when he escaped from the hold.

Orator’s eyes widened just as Sly fired the weapon, the recoil of it sending pain through Sly’s beaten arms and flinging them far upward. Orator blocked the shot with one of his arms with a loud CLANG. Sly fired twice more into Orator’s arm and saw no sign of damage. He stood stunned, sure that the powerful weapon would have been strong enough to damage the metal of Orator’s augmentations. He was wrong. Orator charged forward and slammed Sly to the ground with a splash and forced the pistol from his hand, then drew his other heavy-duty pistol. Sly pushed back and wrestled with Orator on the ground before standing and fighting with his fists, even though he knew that to be a bad idea.

Curtis jolted in reaction to the shot at him and stumbled back, then looked in the general direction from where the shot had come. He couldn’t see Payton anywhere in the dark, but knew she had to be positioned somewhere in a building across the street. No other gun he knew packed such a punch. The Hunter looked down at the front yard of the station from a dark room high up. “Damn rain,” she muttered to herself as she cocked her rifle for another shot. Curtis looked at the front door of the station and took a step before another bullet whizzed past his nose and shattered the window beside him. Without much thought, he lunged through the broken pane landing on the glass and cried out from the sharp pain all over his arms and side, but at least he was safe if he didn’t stand up in front of the window.

Payton waited for a moment to see if Curtis would reveal himself in the window, but she quickly assumed he had crawled out of sight and knew he would find himself in more trouble inside anyway, so she turned her attention to Sly. He and Orator continued their fight on their feet with Sly doing his best to keep Orator from getting an opening to shoot at him. The two made their way toward the branch building as they fought, so Payton took aim. “Dawn escaped into the branch building, m’lady,” Payton said while her ring grew warmer. “Orator an’ Sly are getting’ close to the door, but I don’t have a clear shot. It actually looks like Sly could win this fight if he and Curtis team up on Orator inside, but I might hit Orator if I try to—”

“Take the shot,” Armani calmly commanded. Despite the quiet voice, Payton knew the order was serious and only to be given once. Payton looked through her scope at Sly and Orator who constantly switched positions to give her better and worse aim on the Outlaw. Payton knew hesitation would anger Armani, but she lacked confidence in the opportunities she was given.

“Ma’am, it’s risky. Even if I do hit Sly, I can’t guarantee it to be non-lethal.”

“I don’t care about that; he’s not the one we really want.” Armani then spoke to Orator. “Orator, break away from Sly, now!” Orator and Sly were locked in an equal grip, but Orator slowly forced his gun up to Sly’s side. He rested his finger on the trigger having heard Armani’s instruction, but just as he fired, Sly forced his hand down. The bullet scattered rain droplets and sunk into the ground through Sly’s foot. Sly yelped and fell forward into Orator’s torso and the grip fell apart. At the same time, Payton fired at where Sly was standing just a moment before, but now Orator’s body fell toward that position. Payton’s bullet tore through Orator’s metal arm completely severing its connection to his body and sent shrapnel in the direction of the bullet as it came out the other side.

Orator dropped his gun as his arm went limp and he fell with Sly to the ground. Sly’s mind thought of nothing but the pain, but he knew he had to move before another bullet came his way. He rolled along the ground to behind a pile of gardening soil bags. “Damn it!” Payton shouted and slammed her fist on the windowsill where her rifle rested. She looked back through the scope. “I don’t have a clear shot anymore. Why isn’t Orator gettin’ up? I only hit his arm, and it’s totally artificial ain’t it?”

“Never mind that,” Armani said still in a soft voice, but Payton could tell anger was beginning to swell in the Doyenne’s throat. “Watch Sly’s cover. If he tries to run inside, take him out. Try to let him live, but take necessary measures to not let him escape, too.”

“Yes ma’am,” Payton obeyed. The ‘too’ at the end of Armani’s command stung.

Inside, Curtis made sure to stay out of sight of any windows looking out the front of the building. He navigated the hallways of the branch building cautiously and made note of the silence inside. He noticed that while there were some candles and oil lamps lighting the uniform halls, there were also electric lamps and chandeliers that provided most of the light in the building. All of the halls and rooms Curtis passed were completely illuminated, which he was thankful for so he could see everywhere he went in the unfamiliar place but would also make it difficult for him to hide.

He scanned his surroundings as he walked; the turns and doorframes in every hall provided plenty of cover for an ambush if the Band of Lovers knew where he was, which they likely did. He drew one of his revolvers and walked around every corner slowly in case— “Oof!” Curtis grunted as Slasher appeared suddenly from a doorframe. His knife barely missed its mark on Curtis’s abdomen and another attack was coming. Curtis secured his footing and kicked at Slasher, forcing the Ranger back a few feet. They each caught their breath. “Yer thing really is just bringin’ knives to a gun fight, huh?” Slasher swiftly withdrew several throwing knives from his belt and launched them at Curtis.

Curtis ducked and rolled out of the way and around a corner, but not without being pierced in the leg by one of the knives. He leaned against the wall and took a breath, then drew his other revolver and rounded the corner to fire at Slasher, but Slasher was already on top of him swinging rapidly. Shallow cuts appeared all over Curtis’s arms and chest. None of them were lethal alone, but they stung and made him bleed. He endured the slashes and lowered an arm to take a shot. The bullet penetrated Slasher’s hip and caused the Ranger to cease his onslaught for a moment, but he quickly recovered and threw a knife at Curtis’s hand causing the Outlaw to drop one of his guns.

“Surely all of those weigh you down,” Curtis groaned, then gripped Slasher’s arm and made him drop the dagger he held. Slasher punched at Curtis’s face and stomach. Curtis slammed Slasher into a wall, then brought him to the floor. “Where’s the girl, Slasher?” Slasher pressed his foot into Curtis’s torso and pushed the Outlaw over his head and onto the floor as well, at the same time pulling the knife from Curtis’s leg. Slasher sprang to his feet and threw the knife into Curtis’s back as he, too, stood. Curtis groaned in pain and annoyance.

“You won’t find ‘er,” Slasher said. Curtis turned around to fire at Slasher, but the Ranger was still quicker and moved aside as Curtis fired another shot. Slasher grabbed Curtis’s wrist and moved behind the Outlaw taking Curtis’s hand with him. Curtis’s arm cracked from the motion, and he released his other revolver into Slasher’s hand. Slasher popped out the cylinder and let the remaining bullets fall to the floor, then tossed the gun away before moving in for more attacks.

***

Sly sat in a puddle of rainwater and blood behind the gardening soil. He panted heavily as he tore off part of his poncho to wrap his profusely bleeding foot. He winced when he tightened the wrap as much as he could, then tried to look for Payton. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make it inside if she was still watching him, and even looking out to try to locate her would be risky. He looked to the side and saw Orator still lying motionless on the ground. He was very glad that the bullet hadn’t hit his own body anywhere.

He thought about Curtis. He could see Feather lying unconscious on the porch and the shattered window but saw no sign of his partner. With the rain and thunder, it was difficult to hear any noise coming from inside, but he swore that he had heard gunshots. He needed to get inside and help find Mabel, but his foot would slow him down even more and give Payton plenty of time to shoot him down. One bullet is all it would take; it wouldn’t matter where she hit. Sly sighed and shivered in the rain.

***

Mabel pulled at the rung she was shackled to, trying to break it, but the wood was sturdy. She stood and yanked on the chain hoping the other shackle cuff would damage the wood, but it was no use. The bed simply slid across the floor toward her with an ear-aching screech. She sat on the bed and thought. She needed a new plan. The new room she was in didn’t have access to a balcony or awning but was still two stories up. If she left the room, she risked finding another Ranger standing guard and being shackled again—that is, if she could break free from her current binding first. She looked at the side table closest to her and at the lamp sitting atop it. She picked up the lamp and held it tight, then used it to hit the wooden rung in hopes of splintering the wood.

After the second hit, the glass of the lamp shattered and cut her hands with its tiny shards. The flame went out and the hot oil quickly hardened on the bedsheets. Mabel recoiled and winced as she looked at her palm. The largest cut sent blood pouring down her arm; the little ones around it oozed, too, but slower. She clenched her fist, but the pain was intolerable. “Idiot,” she moaned. The girl looked around the room for anything else within reach she could try to use to escape. She opened one of the drawers of the side table and found spare pillowcases that she squeezed in her fist to try to stop the bleeding. She opened the second drawer and found in it a revolver. She blinked in surprise. “Oh,” she said aloud to herself, shaking her head. “Uh-uh.” She shut the drawer and reached for the third.

***

Slasher swiped at Curtis, but only sliced air. Curtis was solely on defense. He was tired and bleeding and still drenched from the rain, but he kept his mind focused on what was in front of him. He did his best to study Slasher’s movements as he had during their first encounter on the outskirts of Tangate. He only realized then that Slasher was backing him down a dead-end hall. Curtis had neither of his revolvers and with his attention entirely on Slasher’s attacks, he couldn’t look around for anything to use as a weapon. Curtis dipped and ducked to avoid Slasher’s attacks, then bumped into a small table against one wall of the hall. Curtis heard the wobble of a lamp on the table and reached back to grab it, then swung it suddenly around at Slasher.

The bulb of the electric lamp shattered underneath the shade and the blow stunned Slasher long enough for Curtis to grab the Ranger’s head and slam it into the little table. Slasher fell to the ground limp. Curtis swallowed and breathed heavily. He leaned against the table and took a moment to think. He had defeated two members of the Band of Lovers, though not without sustaining injury. He thought of who could be left. As long as he stayed away from the front of the building, The Hunter wouldn’t be able to shoot at him, but there was still Orator outside with… “Sly!” Curtis called and ran back down the hall toward the entrance. The storm outside raged on harder and harder with each passing minute and showed no sign of slowing down.

Click here for a map of the journey so far.

Sly sat still in the rain with his back against the soil bags. Payton lay motionless at her vantage point and watched the pile through her scope. She waited patiently for any movement whatsoever from Sly and hovered her finger just off the trigger. Her hands were steady and her attention so focused that she had to remind herself to breathe and blink. Then, she flinched. She thought she heard something in the hallways just outside the room she was in.

The whole building was empty by order of Armani to prevent any civilians from getting hurt, as with the rest of the buildings around the branch outpost. Payton looked away from her scope for a moment and listened, though the rain outside the open window troubled her hearing of soft sounds. After a few more seconds in silence, she turned back to her scope. She must have been paranoid after the last time she was in this position with Dawn, Sly, and Mabel, she thought. She calmed her nerves and refocused on the task at hand, but suddenly a large hand covered her nose and mouth while another grabbed one of her wrists and forced her arm behind her back.

In the yard, Sly heard the sound of Payton’s gun firing again, but didn’t see where the bullet impacted. Then, a few moments later, he heard the sound of glass shattering followed by a heavy thud that echoed from across the street even through the rain. What was that? he thought. He waited a minute longer, then took a deep breath and very carefully looked out from behind his cover. He looked across the street at the building he thought Payton was hiding in and saw something on the ground right in front of it.

He squinted to try and focus his view through the dark and the rain. He could see just outside the radius of a street light what looked like a person lying on the ground, but was it the Hunter? His breathing grew shakier and his heartrate began to accelerate. Looking upward, he noticed a window on the third floor of the building was shattered and Payton’s rifle dangled by its strap from the broken window frame. He looked back at the body on the ground and noticed the damp, light-colored hair sticking to Payton’s unmoving back and shoulders as the rain flooded the ground around her.

Sly swallowed and looked frantically for any sign of movement in the window. What had happened to Payton just then? Was she attacked by someone? If so, who? And what were their intentions now that Payton wasn’t pinning Sly? He fell back behind the soil bags and thought. This was his chance to run into the building, but what if whoever threw Payton out the window wanted Sly’s bounty for themselves? Who would be crazy enough to interfere with a conflict between Outlaws and a Doyenne’s personal entourage?

Sly closed his eyes and made a final decision. He positioned himself to run for the front door of the building. He knew his foot would slow him down, but he had to try. At worst, Sly could take another bullet if it wasn’t a fatal shot. It would be better than anything Payton would have shot, anyway.

***

Mabel scoured the bedside tables and searched under the bed for anything sturdy with which she could break the rung she was shackled to, but there was nothing within reach. She sat for a few minutes racking her brain for a solution, then ultimately returned to the second drawer of the first bedside table. She opened the drawer to find the revolver still inside. She hesitantly picked up the gun. It was heavier than she remembered from when she held Payton at gunpoint on the tor between Coyote Run and Onyxlanding. Despite the feeling, she looked at the back of the cylinder to find it empty.

She sighed, honestly relieved. She had never fired a gun before and the thought of doing so—even when not aiming at a person—terrified her. The noise would have been too loud and attracted whoever was standing guard, anyway, she rationalized to herself. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the wooden rung, then at the gun in her hand again. She flipped the weapon around so she held onto the barrel and used the handle to strike the rung three times.

After doing so, Mabel hid the gun inside one of the pillows and waited a few minutes to see if anyone would enter the room after hearing the noise, but nobody came. She watched the light seeping in under the door and never saw it dim even slightly to suggest that somebody passed by. She retrieved the gun again and hit the rung a few more times. “Come. On. Ugh!” she growled with each hit. “Just. Break!” At last, a piece of wood splintered from the rung. She was elated, but celebrated quietly just in case her cheers would attract attention, though she doubted it if the banging didn’t. She continued her efforts swinging at an angle and hitting the same spot of the rung over and over until finally—CRACK! Mabel gasped.

The rung wasn’t completely broken, but with a hefty tug, she pulled the other end of her shackles free from the wood. Still, without the key, she wouldn’t be able to unlock the shackle from her wrist, but she didn’t care about that for now. She stood from the bed and made her way to the door being mindful of any creaky floorboards. At the door, she knelt down to the ground and tried to look underneath. No shadow at all, but that didn’t guarantee any lack of Ranger security. She got up on her knees and gently turned the door handle to find it unlocked—unsurprising after a moment of thought.

The door locked from the inside; probably why Payton cuffed her to the bed instead. Mabel contemplated her options. She grabbed the revolver from the drawer again and grabbed the door handle. She took a breath. Her heart raced. She turned the handle and opened the door slightly to peak out. Seeing nobody, she stepped out into the hall to find the Wall standing a few feet from the door holding a silver tray. “Hmm?” was the only sound from the Ranger.

***

“Have you engaged Dawn, Slasher?” Armani asked. She sat in a leather chair behind her desk in the head office of the branch building. The room looked out from the third floor to the rear yard of the plot, though all Armani could see was her own reflection in the darkness of the night. The occasional flash of lightning illuminated the city’s skyline, but otherwise she saw only black and heard only the manic tapping of thousands of raindrops on the glass. She faced the window in her chair sitting straight with her hands in her lap and her expression neutral.

“Slasher?” After no response came to her heart, she swiveled in the chair and rested her elbows on the desk and brought her entwined fingers to her mouth. “Hunter, provide an update on Sly.” No answer. A fist slammed down on the sturdy desk top. Armani’s other fist was pressed against her forehead and her eyes were red with fury. She breathed heavily, then calmed herself and concentrated on strategy. She opened her hands and brought them to her face. Her lips quivered as she spoke quietly to herself. “What is happening?”

***

After collecting his weapons from the floor, Curtis walked slowly back down the halls he’d come from backtracking to the front door and still being mindful of the Hunter who he assumed was still watching the front windows of the building. He crept through the building unsure of who else may be hiding inside. As he approached the front, he heard what sounded like the front doors shutting followed by a series of wet footsteps and a groan. The footsteps stopped, then continued for a moment before a loud crash came from down the hall. Curtis rushed to the source, then drew his revolvers. He turned the corner with his guns pointed at a man sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall next to a toppled table.

A trail of blood led from the man’s boot down the hall and around the corner to the front door. He was soaked from the rain. “Sly!” Curtis exclaimed and rushed to kneel next to the ex-Ranger. “That looks bad,” he said looking at the cloth wrapping Sly’s boot drenched in red.

“A little lead in the boot makes your kick harder,” Sly winced out between breaths. “I can barely walk, though.”

“Right. How ‘bout we getchu into one o’ these rooms so you ain’t such an easy target.”

Sly leaned on Curtis’s shoulder and kept weight off of his wounded foot which still spewed blood despite Sly’s attempt at wrapping it. “No way,” he said. “You’ll need help in case anyone else is still here. I haven’t seen Lady Love anywhere, have you?”

“Nah, I haven’t. I’ll be okay, though; she’s not a priority o’ mine. If she doesn’t show ‘erself, that’s fine by me. I’ll just find Mabel, come back fer ya, then git outta here.”

“I’m not going to let you wander around here by yourself. You might not be on one foot, but look at you! You’re covered in cuts and beat the hell up.”

“If I gotta lug you around, it’s only gonna slow me down and put us both at greater risk.”

“Then leave me be; I don’t need your help. I’ll make do on my own. If we split up, we’ll cover more ground anyway.”

“Pfft, okay cowboy, that’s enough. Come on. Even if we’re slow, two sets of eyes and ears are better than one. Here, lean on this and be lookout while I check this hall.” Curtis helped Sly lean on a corner of the hallway while he went room-to-room and checked inside each of them, then they moved on to the next hall. The whole time, both Outlaws held their revolvers at the ready, though Sly was still unsure whether his remaining seven-shot would even work after having been rained on for so long. Outside, the storm still loomed over Yellowtusk and showed no signs of ending. Curtis called for Mabel, though he kept his volume low so as not to assist anyone wandering the halls in search of the two of them.

***

How have two Outlaws taken out four members of my hand-picked team of skilled Rangers? Armani thought. One of them doesn’t even have a Spell! And the one that does doesn’t have a good one! She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She looked through her fingers and talked quietly to herself. “It doesn’t matter.” She lowered her hands. “None of that matters. I’ll just have to finish things myself. They’re my bounties to claim after all.” Armani leaned back in her chair and giggled at her thoughts. “I’ll do it all alone just like I always have. Me!” She raised her arms and looked to the ceiling as if speaking to a higher power looking down on her.

“Armani Anderson! Youngest ever Doyenne and successor to Irving “Silver Tongue” Craig! I’ve brought over 300 criminals to justice in my 15 years as a Ranger, what’s two more?” The Doyenne laughed again. When her hysterics drew to a close, she opened one of the drawers in her desk and withdrew a simple revolver, then reached under the desk and pulled from beneath it a double-barreled pump-action rifle. She stood and walked vehemently toward the door. A smile crept along her face as her excitement grew in her. She swayed with every step and allowed her rattling jewelry to announce her approach. “Don’t worry, my darlings,” she said to herself in an alluring half-whisper, “I’m on my way.”

A new silver bracelet sat loosely on her wrist and looked to be made from a modified cuff off a pair of shackles. Suddenly, the bracelet Orator locked onto Sly’s wrist began to radiate warmth. Sly held up his hand and looked at the bracelet as Curtis approached and helped the ex-Ranger stand to move their search elsewhere. “So, what d’ya think?” Curtis asked. “Should we check the basement next, or head up a floor?” Sly pondered for a few moments before Curtis took notice of the bracelet. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know. Orator locked it on me during our fight. It’s like a shackle almost. It’s locked and I can’t get it off.”

“Hmph, I guess he forgot the other half at home.”

“Yeah…” Sly felt the warmth growing almost to a point of discomfort. Then, they both heard the jingle of light chains and pendants from just down the hall. From around the corner walked Armani. She stood with her feet wide apart and holding the shotgun in one hand with the barrel pointing toward the ground. She grinned and giggled to herself. Curtis and Sly both raised their weapons upon seeing her.

“Dawn,” Sly warned, “that’s her.”

“Well, if it ain’t Lady Love herself,” Curtis said and cocked the hammers on both of his revolvers. Sly did the same with his remaining seven-shot, but still leaned on the wall for support. “We don’t wanna kill ya. Just tell us where she is an’ you won’t be blown to smithereens right now.”

Armani laughed. “Oh, my sweet, foolish darlings. You won’t do anything to me…” Armani raised her empty hand and shook her wrist to show the Outlaws the bracelet she wore which match the one Orator locked onto Sly’s wrist. “Let me show you the true power of my Spell.” She brought her hand to her mouth and bit down hard between her thumb and forefinger wincing at the pain, but focusing her attention on Sly. Sly flinched and groaned at a sudden pain in his hand. Raising his own hand and looking at it, Sly could see red marks forming like someone was biting him and the pain made his hand quiver. Curtis looked to his partner and groaned in confusion, then gasped with realization.

He looked back to Armani as Sly grasped his hand in agony. Armani released her bite and looked at her foes, then laughed maniacally. “Now you understand!” she exclaimed. “There’s nothing you can do to me; I’ve already won! You can shoot me down, but you’ll be taking another life, too. And even if you try to just knock me out, by the look of Sly’s foot, I don’t think he can take much more of a beating.”

Curtis swallowed and tried to think of a quick solution. Damn, I had no idea her Spell was like this. Should’ve expected it from a Doyenne. This is bad. I’ve got no leverage here. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Armani pumping her shotgun. Curtis pushed Sly behind the corner he had been leaning on and dove across the hall as lead pellets dotted the hall with holes. Armani pumped the shotgun again and took aim at Curtis who was scrambling around a corner. Another deafening boom that drowned out the sound of the rain outside was succeeded by a chunk of the corner being blown to bits.

Another pump. As Armani walked confidently toward the corner Curtis was hiding around, Curtis called across the hall. “Sly, get outta here! I’ll take care o’ Lady Love. Try to find Mabel!” Sly groveled on the ground for a moment, but absorbed Curtis’s words in his mind. He tried to ignore the pain in his foot and focused on the task at hand.

“Bandages,” Sly drowsily mumbled to himself. “Need to find some bandages.” He took his time to stand and leaned on the wall for support as he limped from room to room. He recalled, then, that there was an in-house infirmary at every branch Outpost, but where was it? Meanwhile, Curtis scrambled down the other hallway and into one of the rooms narrowly dodging another swarm of bullets from Armani.

Gotta get away from Sly, he thought. Hopefully there’s a range to ‘er Spell. Curtis shut the door behind him and leaned against it when Armani tried to kick it open. The room was a small lounge with couches and a card table. Curtis could hear the pump-action of the shotgun and dove away from the door just before a rough window was blasted into its top half. When Armani kicked the door in, she stepped into the room and was slammed by a folding chair from around the card table that Curtis threw at her. Somewhere else in the branch building, Sly felt the impact from the chair and stumbled back, accidentally using his injured foot to catch himself.

Sly cried out and collapsed to the ground clutching his bloodied boot. Sweat ran down his face as he tried to think only of finding the infirmary, but was consumed by pain and a sudden drowsiness and light-headedness. Armani felt none of the pain from Sly’s foot and recovered quickly from the blow from the chair but failed to notice Curtis rushing at her holding a blanket from the couch. Curtis threw the blanket on the Doyenne and used the wrapping to drag her to the ground and slammed her on the carpeted floor. Sly again felt the impact, but managed to keep himself upright before standing again. At least he isn’t shooting her, I guess, Sly thought and groaned. Armani tried aiming the shotgun for another shot, but the blanket blinded her and held her arms tight against her body. She thrashed on the ground until finally freeing herself from the blanket, but only in time to catch a glimpse of Curtis as he ran from the room.

Armani chased the Outlaw down the hall and up a staircase where she took another shot, but Curtis ducked behind the banister and barely avoided the fragments of lead. Curtis ran down the halls of the second floor and called for Mabel but got no response. He could hear Armani running down the halls behind him, so he stopped and waited for her around a corner. As soon as she rounded the corner, he grabbed hold of the shotgun and fought to take it from the Doyenne. A stray shot fired, then Armani pulled Curtis in for a headbutt and kicked his stomach to push him away. Armani pumped the shotgun, but found that it was empty of ammo, so she tossed it aside and drew the revolver from her belt.

She fired a shot at Curtis who was charging for her and struck his left arm, but Curtis kept forward and dove to the ground, rolling and sweeping his leg to trip Armani. On the first floor, Sly let out a pained grunt as he felt the impact, but sighed in relief soon after upon finding the infirmary. Curtis grabbed Armani’s arm and held it straight while pushing on Armani’s body with his feet. Armani put all of her strength into aiming the gun at Curtis’s head and firing another shot, but the Outlaw kept the barrel away. The gunshot sent a ring through Curtis’s ear, but he stayed focused and kicked Armani’s face forcing her to release the weapon. Curtis stood as the shotgun—now wielded by Armani as a club—swung at his legs hitting his knee from the side, then hit his hand, then his arm where he had been shot by Feather.

Curtis tried to catch the next hit to his side but was caught off guard by a strike to his chest with the back of the shotgun. He stumbled back and Armani pushed him into the wall and pinned him with the rifle. She reached for her revolver in his hand. Curtis opened the cylinder and dropped the remaining bullets onto the ground before using the revolver to break a window next to him, then tossed the gun outside. Armani yelled and thrusted the shotgun upward to hit Curtis’s chin, but Curtis grabbed hold of the weapon and pushed back. He kicked Armani, took the shotgun, then ran down the hall before tossing the shotgun out another window.

Curtis continued through various halls calling Mabel’s name and made his way to the third floor after finding the next staircase. Armani stood and wiped her bloody nose before storming up the staircase. She snickered to herself. Disarming me won’t do you that much good, Dawn, she thought. You still can’t do much harm to me. She glanced down at the shackle on her wrist. Sly rummaged through the infirmary’s cabinets to find gauze and wound-cleaning supplies. Sly unscrewed the cap on a bottle of disinfectant, then unwrapped the bloodied cloth from his boot. He winced at the pain as he removed his boot and failed to hold back tears when he poured the disinfectant on his foot which was black with blood.

Armani fell to one knee at the top of the stairs feeling the intense pain of alcohol in an open wound. What is Sly doing? she thought. Sly wrapped the gauze tightly around his foot, padding it with cotton balls to increase the pressure on the wound which still bled through several layers of bandaging. He stuffed the rest of the gauze and bandages into his pockets and stood being careful to not walk on his foot too much still. He limped from the infirmary leaving his boot behind and began searching for the stairs to the basement. I need to take advantage of the freedom I have, he thought. I just hope Dawn is handling Armani all right by himself. He rubbed his face and sniffled.

The scent of blood and alcohol tarnished his sense of smell. Armani stomped through the halls of the top floor of the branch building calling for Curtis. “Oh, Dawn! You aren’t going to find the girl. Stop this ridiculous chase!” Curtis darted from one room to another leaving the doors open of rooms he had already checked.

His eyes were focused on the search for Mabel, but his mind was elsewhere. I’m never goin’ to know if Armani’s Spell runs out of range or not. I need a better way to unlink her and Sly. Armani stalked through the halls in search of Curtis, then suddenly heard his footsteps running behind her. She turned around and blocked a punch before getting hit by the back of one of Curtis’s revolvers. She returned the blow and dodged another from the Outlaw. The two of them fought up close for a few moments before Armani disarmed Curtis and took the revolver he used as a blunt weapon. She kicked Curtis back as she had before and aimed the revolver at his torso, cocked the hammer, then pulled the trigger. Click. Click, click. Armani looked at the cylinder. “It’s empty?” she shouted in frustration.

“You didn’t think I’d really give you the opportunity to shoot at me again, did ya?” Curtis said as he ran at Armani with his other revolver, also empty. He shoved the Doyenne to the ground and pinned her arms up above her head while using his legs to hold the rest of her body. He ripped a key ring from Armani’s belt then asked which key was for the shackle.

Armani laughed. “I’m not telling you anything! You’re in my domain now and there’s nothing you can do to escape with what you want!”

Curtis struggled to keep Armani pinned, so he thought quickly and jammed the barrel of the revolver he held between the shackle and Armani’s wrist. “Sorry ‘bout this, Sly. I’m desperate,” he said before using the gun as a lever. Armani’s expression went from anger and ego to concern as the tension from the gun snapped her wrist back and at the same time busted the shackle open. Armani let out a bawling scream. She yanked her hand away from Curtis and forced herself out from under him. She clutched at her wrist as tears streamed from her eyes and another scream came from deep within her.

In the basement, Sly reached for a door handle only to have his wrist snap back with a horrifying CRACK. Sly fell against the door and let out a suffering wail. Curtis rolled along the ground before standing quickly, but found that Armani was not in a position to fight again right away. She sat on her knees with her head touching the ground and her arms tucked underneath her. Her body twitched as she sobbed. Curtis took the moment to breathe, then realized the severe pain that his arm was in from being shot and bludgeoned. The hallway was silent except for Armani’s quiet crying and the ticking of a clock on the wall halfway between them. He squeezed his arm to try and stop the bleeding. “Why go through all this effort?” Curtis asked. “Why do you want me and Sly so bad?”

“You…” Armani thought about the purpose of answering and decided it wouldn’t matter much in the end. “You lived with the Outlaw called ‘Midnight’ for four years of your life,” she said between shaky breaths.

“So? I mean, I know ‘e killed the Doyen you replaced, but I can’t let you get to ‘im before I do. I have my own scores to settle before the Government takes ‘im in.”

Armani stood, still clutching her wrist, but also holding Curtis’s other revolver. “You’re a fool if you think my intentions are so simple.”

“Now just hold on a second, Love. This fightin’ is useless. If you think I have any information to give you, you’re wrong.” Wait, what am I doin’? If she thinks I have any idea where Midnight is, I can use that to my advantage. “I mean, nothin’ I’d tell ya fer free, that is.” Armani met Curtis’s eyes, hers full of anger and desperation. “Let’s make a deal out of it,” Curtis offered.

“You think I’m going to negotiate with you?”

“I think it’s the best option for us both. You wanna take me in and use what I know to find Midnight. I just wanna take Mabel and git the hell out o’ here.”

“You just don’t get it. I’ve won. You can’t defeat me without taking out Sly, too, so it’s only a matter of time before I take you in whether you decide to give up or not.”

“Look at yerself. After all o’ this, you still think you’re guaranteed victory? I broke the shackle. Yer advantage is gone. Stop bein’ irrational and look at what’s in front o’ you.”

“A bounty rightfully mine to claim.”

Curtis shook his head. “You won’t get any better deal, Love. I know you ain’t goin’ to give up…”

“And you aren’t going to give this up either…” She trailed off.

He had her.

“Tell ya what,” Curtis said digging into his pocket and pulling out two bullets. He tossed one to Armani and it landed on the carpet by her feet. “One bullet fer each of us. A formal duel to end it all. Winner gits what they want.” Armani chuckled at the idea, took a deep breath, bent down and picked up the bullet, then carefully loaded it into the revolver with her injured hand. She looked at Curtis and said “Count your paces.” Curtis counted aloud as they each took only three steps away from each other having already had some distance between them. They both turned and faced one another with their revolvers at their hips and their hands hovering. The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically and they each counted the seconds.

How poetic, Armani thought when she glanced at the time: ten seconds until midnight. Curtis also watched the clock, both shooters understanding that the draw would commence at the strike of twelve. The seconds counted down with each tick of the clock sounding louder and louder each time the hand moved. The final tick turned gears within the clocks mechanism to shift all three hands into the same position and before the next second, Curtis and Armani both drew their weapons and fired. Curtis jerked his body to one side and aimed his revolver upward to fire at one of the electric lights in the ceiling. The glass casing holding the bulb shattered as the bulb was destroyed and the light it generated vanished in a blink.

The circuit sparked and turned off the rest of the lights in that hall, drowning the length of it in darkness. Armani’s eyes widened as her pupils dilated. What was that movement? she thought. Did he dodge my bullet? Suddenly, Curtis’s knee forced the air from Armani’s lungs as it collided with her stomach, then he kicked up and hit her chin. She fell backward and on her way down thought, That’s it? I really fell for it? Her back hit the carpeted floor. She lied still. Curtis breathed heavily and took his revolver from the unconscious Doyenne, then ran for the stairs. In the darkened hall, the broken bulb sparked again and tossed about small bits of orange. Where the embers landed, a small flame ignited on the carpet.

Curtis bounded down the stairs calling Sly’s name and met the ex-Ranger at the top of the basement stairs. Sly punched Curtis’s shoulder once they got close saying, “What did you do, Dawn? My wrist is broken! I’m already at a disadvantage with my foot, but now I’ll be an even easier target for Lady Love!”

“I’m sorry!” Curtis yelled “But we don’t need to worry about her anymore.”

“Where is she?”

“Third floor. I knocked ‘er out.”

“You defeated her? By yourself? How?”

“I dunno; it wasn’t easy, but I figured it out.”

“She’s a Doyenne, Dawn, that’s an impressive feat.”

“Okay, you can praise me later. We still gotta find Mabel and get out o’ here. No luck in the basement?”

Sly shook his head. Curtis stomped his foot and looked up and down the hall unsure of where to search next. Sly clenched his fist on his unhurt arm and punched himself in the face. Curtis looked at him, puzzled. “I want her to feel it when she wakes up,” he said.

“Sly, I already broke her shackle. That’s why I had to break her wrist.”

“Oh… Man, what the hell?”

“I couldn’t think of a better way.” Curtis shrugged. “We’ll find you a doctor when we leave. Let’s go!”

“I wonder if that doc in Proudkeep has any remedies for bones,” Sly said to himself. The two made their way throughout the halls of the building—Sly still limping—searching any rooms they may have missed on their first pass. They cleared out the first floor again and made their way to the stairs when Sly asked, “Do you smell that?” Curtis took a few hard sniffs of the air and noticed a smoky scent. As soon as the two reached the staircase, they saw the second story engulfed in flames. “Oh, hell!” Curtis exclaimed. Sly turned to him.

“Do you think Mabel’s up there?”

“Shit, I don’t know. I didn’t get a real chance to look!” Curtis sprinted back up the stairs and Sly followed as quickly as he could. They navigated through the flames and looked into each room they could access, calling Mabel’s name all the while in hopes of finding her. Curtis rounded a corner and by the time Sly caught up, he found Curtis locked in a grapple with Armani. Her right sleeve was burnt up and the skin underneath it was blistering. She and Curtis wrestled standing up for a moment, then fell to the ground together and tried to pin one another.

“Dawn!” Sly shouted, but before he could make it to his partner to help finish off Armani, the roof overhead cracked and dropped a heap of flaming wood and carpet in front of him. Sly leapt back and watched as Curtis and Armani flipped over each other. Finally, Curtis found himself on top and pinned Armani similarly to earlier, but this time wrapped his hands around her neck. She tried to reach for one of the revolvers at his waist, but he slammed her arm down with his leg.

“Stop,” he shouted. “Don’t make me do this now.” Armani struggled to breathe from the combination of smoke and Curtis’s grip both choking her. Curtis pleaded. “I don’t care whatchu want with Midnight, but I don’t know anythin’. I was bluffin’ earlier. He could be dead for all I know, but I won’t let you after ‘im if it means you might find ‘im and make sure of it!” Armani whimpered and squeaked out what little noise she could. “Tell us where Mabel is!”

“Dawn!” Sly shouted, but Curtis wasn’t listening. Armani’s eyes began to roll upward as she blinked and tried to remain conscious. She opened her mouth as tears fell from the corners of her eyes and she spoke with what little breath she had left.

“I…loved…him. Mid…night…”

“What?” Curtis released his grip and Armani took a deep breath of smoke, then coughed. She rolled onto her front and continued gasping for dirty air. “What did you say?”

“The girl,” Armani choked. “She’s…at the Cummings residence. Just up the road.”

Curtis and Sly listened carefully to the whispered directions, then Curtis turned to Sly. “Sly, go!”

Sly swallowed and coughed from the smoke. “Okay!” he replied before heading back for the stairs. Curtis looked back to Armani to find her barely conscious and choking on the smoke. The smoke was getting to him, too.

“Hey, you said you loved Midnight?” Curtis confirmed. “What do you mean?” Armani didn’t respond. Her eyes were shut. Curtis removed his poncho and wrapped it around Armani, draping part of it around her nose and mouth to help filter the smoke she was breathing, then held his own breath and picked up the Doyenne. He turned to rush to the stairs, but found the path blocked by flaming debris. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.” Sly exited into the rain through the back door to avoid facing any of the Band of Lovers again, then looked back in horror at the building to find it almost entirely ablaze. Inside, Curtis ran through the halls of the second floor trying to find another exit, then stumbled back upon the windows he had broken earlier.

The rain blowing in on the curtains kept them damp enough to not catch fire. Curtis set Armani down and pulled the curtains from their rungs, then tied them together. He cleared out any remaining glass, then tied the joined curtains to the bottom of the window to get as much distance out of them as possible. He looked out and saw that the curtains only reached about ten feet down—not nearly enough to reach the ground, but he hadn’t any more time to fetch more curtains. Curtis hoisted Armani into his arms and sat on the window sill looking down. Holding Armani as tightly as he could with his injured arm, he gripped the curtains firmly with his other and descended as slowly as possible, but the wetness of the curtains didn’t allow for a good hold.

He slid fast and reached the end of the curtains unexpectedly. Curtis fell to the ground but kept Armani on top to cushion some of her fall. The curtains loosed and fell on top of the pair with a sopping slap. Curtis found it difficult to breathe at first, but soon the cool outdoor air began to fill his lungs. He sat up and brought Armani into the yard away from any flaming debris that could have fallen on top of them. Armani, too, began to breathe normally again and regained consciousness. Her eyes slowly opened, and she peered up at Curtis who looked down at her with flames lighting the sky behind him. Her head rested in his lap, his hat blocking the pouring rain from getting into her eyes. Both of them were soaking wet already.

Armani’s eyes were glossy like she was looking past Curtis and she raised a hand to his cheek. “My…sweet Moon,” she said quietly. Curtis’s expression softened from worry to something reminiscent of pity or maybe sympathy, though he wasn’t sure why in that moment.

“Anderson,” Curtis spoke softly. “Are you all right?”

Armani’s eyes cleared and her face flinched like she was just snapped out of a daydream. She clenched her jaw and lowered her hand. “I’ll be okay,” she answered.

“Listen, I’m lookin’ fer Midnight. I don’t know how you knew ‘im and got no clue why you’d say you loved ‘im after he killed yer mentor, but I believe we can help each other in some way.”

“I don’t want your help,” she whispered.

“Armani—”

“I just…want it to be over.” Curtis sighed unsure of what she meant. She turned away from him, but didn’t move her head from his lap. Looking at her face, he could see then how tired she was and saw what he thought to be fear in her eyes. He couldn’t piece together what was racing through her mind. “He promised…” she continued, “…that he’d come back…”

“I think we each knew him very differently, but at some point, he left us both behind. Armani, you have t’ tell me whatchu know. Then, when I find him, I’ll make sure he knows you’re waitin’ and I’ll make ‘im keep his promise to come back to ya.”

Armani’s eyes were already closed, but she smiled. She sniffled and placed a hand over her eyes. “Thank you…Curtis,” she whispered.

*** 

Sly ran through the rain, which was lighter then, than it had been the rest of the evening, and opened the front gate to the Cummings residence. He sprinted up the gravel carriage path and burst through the front door. “Mabel!” he shouted. He rushed throughout the first-floor shouting for her. “Mabel! Mabel!” Finally, he heard a response from upstairs.

“Sly!” Mabel shouted. Sly rushed up the stairs ignoring the pain from using his injured foot.

“Where are you?” he shouted.

“Back here!”

Sly followed Mabel’s voice and opened the door to the room she was in. She sat on the bed. Sly rushed over to her and looked her up and down to see her relatively unharmed aside from some redness around her wrist and bloodied bandages on one hand. “I told you I’d never leave you behind again,” he said giving her a hug. They embraced for a moment, then he released her and looked at her hand. “What happened?”

“Oh, it was nothing. My own fault really, I—”

“Sly?” A deep voice came from the door. Sly whipped around and saw the Wall standing in the doorway. Sly quickly drew his revolver, but Mabel shouted for him to wait.

“He’s not gonna fight you,” Mabel said.

“Huh?” Sly exhaled. He looked again at the Wall and noticed the first aid kit in his hands.

“We should clean up that hand,” the Wall said. Mabel winced when the Wall doused her hand in cleansing alcohol. He dabbed a wet cloth on her palm to clean up the dried blood and held cotton bandages in place with gauze. Sly leaned against one of the dressers sipping on the tea the Wall had brought for himself, but said Sly could have it. Another cup sat on the dresser for Mabel.

“So, I thought,” Mabel started, “that you and Curtis were comin’ here, but it sounds like the Band o’ Lovers led you elsewhere.” She chuckled, then winced again as the Wall tied the gauze tight.

“We thought they were keeping you at their outpost in town,” Sly said with a smile. “But I’m glad you’re safe here.”

“Where is Curtis?”

“Well, we defeated the members of the Band of Lovers that were there and…” Sly looked to the Wall who put the first aid supplies back in the box.

“I assumed as much,” the Wall said. “I hadn’t heard from Lady Love in a while. Then, when I saw you here, I assumed that meant we’d lost. Tell me. Lady love, is she…?”

“We didn’t kill her,” Sly assured. “None of them—” He thought about Payton’s body lying limp on the sidewalk across from the branch building. “They’re all still alive. Yeah.”

“So, what happened after you beat everyone?” Mabel inquired.

“Oh, yeah, well we looked around for you some more and then the building sort of caught fire.”

“Huh?” Mabel exclaimed. The Wall looked concerned, too, bit didn’t vocalize.

“Yeah,” Sly continued. “Dawn, Armani, and I were all still inside. Armani and Dawn kept fighting for a bit and at first, I thought he’d reached his breaking point and was going to kill her, and I couldn’t do anything because debris had separated us, but then she said something that calmed him down. She told us that you were here at the Cummings residence, so I came and left the two of them. Not sure why her attitude changed, but—”

“Well, did they get out?” Mabel asked panicked.

“Uh, I don’t know…” Sly said with worry finally setting in.

“We need t’ go there!” Mabel sprang from the bed and Sly stood. The two of them rushed out the door, but the Wall remained in the room. Mabel stopped and turned back. “Thank you fer wrappin’ up my hand,” she said to the Ranger. “And fer bein’ so nice and stuff. The tea was good.” The Wall smiled. Mabel turned and followed Sly down the stairs and out the front door. The rain was very light by then, but clouds still masked the moon and cast Yellowtusk into darkness. Sly and Mabel ran down the road toward the branch building and noticed a crowd of people had gathered in the streets around the building as the flames raged on. Mabel spotted Curtis some distance behind the crowd and hiding in the shadows, also watching the inferno. They called to him.

“Oh, there y’are, kid,” Curtis said in a tired voice. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“You too,” Mabel said as she hugged the Outlaw. ‘You look bad, though. Covered in lacerations and such.”

Curtis chuckled. “Lacerations? Y’oughta carry a dictionary.”

“I don’t need to,” she said smiling.

“Hey,” Sly called quietly. “We should go.” He turned to lead the other two to where he and Curtis left their horses and spotted another smaller crowd gathering around Payton on the sidewalk. She lied there just as she had when Sly last saw her. He swallowed harshly, then forced himself to look away. After retrieving their steeds, the group walked quietly under the cover of the overcast night through the streets which were empty at that hour. The ground was still muddied from the storm and Sly’s foot grew cold as he limped through town.

“Where’s yer other shoe?” Mabel asked curiously.

“Oh, I must’ve left it in the branch building,” Sly answered looking down at his bandaged foot.

“That looks bad. Should we stop and clean it up?”

“No, that’s okay. I can make it back to the wagon.”

“Where is the wagon?”

“We left it a ways out of town. It’s a bit of a walk.”

“Sure you guys’ll make it?”

“Well, we can’t sleep here anyway. We’ll make it just fine.” Sly held back his winces and groans as he tried to use his injured foot as little as possible. Mabel walked in front with guidance from Sly. The ex-Ranger watched the girl stride confidently and much less tiredly than he and Curtis for obvious reasons. Curtis had been silent since they left the scene of their battle and Sly could tell something was on Curtis’s mind. “Did Lady Love say something to you?” Sly asked. “I mean after she told us where Mabel was being held, which was also a pretty sudden change in attitude. What happened?”

Curtis took his time to answer, but finally said, “She mentioned Midnight. Said that she has no desire to arrest or kill ‘im, but that she actually loved ‘im.”

“Oh, what? Really?”

“Yeah, crazy, huh? She didn’t talk too much. She was pretty exhausted after the fight, and the smoke from the fire really gave ‘er a hard time breathin’. But she spilled a little bit to me.”

“So, what’d she say?” Sly asked.

“Well, she definitely spent some time with ‘im a few years back,” Curtis explained, “but when he left ‘er, he didn’t say much about where he’d be goin’. The last time she actually saw ‘im was eleven years ago. He wrote letters to ‘er every year fer six years after that, but stopped in the summer o’ 1776. Each letter was stamped in a different city and didn’t really give ‘er much sense of where he was headed, but she said the letters were never stamped in the same city twice.

“The last letter he sent was stamped in Dry Creek presumably at the time he got settled at his ranch there. She doubts he stayed in any one place fer a year between letters, though, and probably just made sure to send them from different places when the time o’ year came, but ‘e must’ve passed through each city in the Mesa Frontier more than once just t’ stay movin’ fer all that time.”

“So, what you’re saying is she had old info and it’s practically useless,” Sly blurted.

Curtis sighed. “It’s not super helpful is what I’ll say. She did give me a name, though.”

“Wait, she knew Midnight’s real name?” Sly was astonished.

“Well, kinda. She and Midnight were intimate for the time she knew ‘im, but said he admitted to using a fake name the whole time they were together.”

“If she was so close to him, how come she didn’t go to Dry Creek after the last letter was sent?”

“She said it would’a been too risky to go, fer him and fer herself. She also worried that somethin’ may have happened in the year after and that ‘e might’ve been killed. She was confident he wasn’t caught, though, since she would’a heard about it.”

“How d’you know she wasn’t lyin’?” Mabel interjected.

Curtis thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Seemed like she was done tryin’ t’foil our plans. I told you I’ve been double crossed enough times to have a good idea of when someone’s lyin’. I believe everythin’ she told me. I promised ‘er that when I finally find ‘im, I’ll be sure he goes back to see ‘er.”

“Even after all she put us through,” Sly said, “and you’re still willing to do something nice for her. You really aren’t such a bad guy, huh?”

“You’re just now decidin’ that?” Curtis said with a raised brow.

“Well, I’ve only known you a week,” Sly defended. “It takes a while to truly judge someone’s character. For all you knew, I could’ve been leading you right into a trap with the Band of Lovers all along.”

“Pfft. I’ve only known you a week, but I already know you’re a terrible liar. It never would’a worked.” Sly retorted and the two bantered the whole way back to the wagon. By the time they reached their destination, the clouds had all dissipated and the moon shone brightly over the desert. Mabel laughed along with the Outlaws’ playful argument and thought about the short time she had spent with them. She was satisfied knowing that her intuition about them both was right. She was in good, safe company. Once back at the carriage, the group found all of their belongings right where they had left them, though they had gotten soaked in the rain.

Curtis pulled the wanted poster for Midnight from his pocket and unfolded it. The group all studied the mysterious sketch in the moonlight. A pale man in dark clothing and a pitch-black hat. Certainly not descriptive, but it was all they had to go on. Mabel found the updated posters for Curtis and Sly and teased Sly about officially being an Outlaw. Curtis wandered to his steel horse and rested a hand on its nose. He looked into its eyes as if looking for something, anything that could point him toward its previous owner. “I’ll find you,” Curtis whispered to nobody. “Wherever you are.”

***

A finely dressed man stood from his seat and tapped gently on the small microphone that sat on the desk in front of him. Around him were dozens of other well-dressed individuals sitting at similar desks, each with various papers strewn about them, some neatly, some messily. Mixed in with the formally clothed attendees were pockets of men and women wearing Ranger garb—ponchos, wide-brimmed hats, boots, and brandishing unique weapons. The standing man cleared his throat and the hushed chatter throughout the dimly lit room fell to silence. “Members of this council,” the man said in a raspy voice. “I thank you for convening today for the discussion of the recent actions of Ms. Armani Rosemary Anderson, a.k.a. ‘Lady Love.’ Let our proceedings begin.”

Armani sat at a table in the middle of the room by herself with a brighter light shining on her from above. Her hands were shackled and a chain connected her bindings to the table. Behind her, a row of tables lined up side-by-side had room for twenty-or-so people, but only eight of the seats were filled. Slasher sat at the end of the group covered in bandages and burn scars. Feather, Orator—who only had one arm while the shoulder of the arm that was damaged by Payton was draped in cloth—and the Wall were also present, along with four other Rangers whose expressions ranged from nervous and fearful to annoyed or even angry. None of them were bound to their tables.

Armani wore no jewelry. The council members started off one-by-one with only a few voices speaking out, but soon turned to a mesh of voices talking over each other backed by whispers across desks and shouting throughout the room. “It ain’t about vanity; the Band of Lovers should’ve called fer back up!” one man shouted.

“It was only two individuals. They shouldn’t have needed back up!” another argued.

“They’ve made a mockery of the Strip’s Rangers with their defeat at the hands of only a pair of Outlaws!” called a third.

Notably, none of the Rangers in attendance chimed in. Many of them simply watched Armani’s reaction to the commotion and the reactions of her group. The meeting continued with more shouting and arguing. “Come now, she’s the youngest Doyenne in Valley Strip history. That ought t’be some proof of ‘er skills as a Ranger and a leader. Surely there’s more to this situation than we’re seeing,” a woman said.

“Or it’s testament to the mistake of promotin’ her so early on!” someone else interrupted. Armani sat still and quiet, head down and eyes locked on the cuffs around her wrists. The rest of the Band of Lovers behind her watched, too, with the other Rangers around the room to see if she would try to defend herself and her group. She certainly wasn’t going to be given the chance unless she demanded it, but she sat silent and helpless. More members of the council expressed their great disappointment in the young Doyenne while—to the surprise of some—several others added to the support of Armani stating how she had risen to the top because of her great success during her academic years and the time following her graduation.

They cited her indomitable will and perseverance along with her incredible pursuit of justice as being primary qualities for her promotion, behind only her incredible success in the field. Armani’s gaze returned from its glossy daydream when her supporters began to drown out the opposition. “Her success was fabricated! Orchestrated by those with pockets even deeper than all of ours!” The room began to quiet down. Armani’s expression tightened up and she slowly looked up to face the room.

Another voice added on, “The board in charge of Rangers only selected her to boost morale after Irving Craig’s murder. She had nothing more to offer than any other candidate beside her proximity to another Doyen!”

“This stunt of hers wasted hundreds, thousands of dimes worth of advanced technology. The arms of her subordinate there alone are worth more than any of our salaries and with the nerve connections severed in his right arm, those modifications are now completely useless!”

“Not to mention the wasted experiment that was Benjamin Rivera.”

“It wasn’t a waste!”

“Let’s not forget about the damage done to the branch building in Yellowtusk, either.”

“Or the danger she put the citizens of the city in by hosting such an outrageous battle in the middle of town!”

“The circumstances must be further evaluated!”

All of the voices shouting and arguing and stabbing at each other rattled Armani’s brain. “Lies,” she said softly. “Those are lies. You… None of you understand.” The microphone on the table in front of her picked up her quiet tone and projected it to the council. As she spoke, her voice grew in intensity and one by one, more members of the council turned to her in attention. “I endured suffering and discrimination to be here. I went through decades of life feeling like I never belonged in the Ridge or the Valley Strip! I worked hard, studied, trained my body and my mind to get to where I am today, and you cannot take that away from me! I will not beg for your forgiveness here today, nor do I expect praise or defense because of the success I’ve achieved—for the name I’ve made for myself!

“You are all ignorant imbeciles if you cannot see that what the events in Yellowtusk that night displayed was that the threat of Outlaws is much worse than ever before. And the issue will not go away or become any easier just because of some new technology developed to combat the increasing density of Spells in the Valley Strip. The danger is growing at a much faster rate than we can counter. I make no excuse for my failures, but you are absolutely witless if you think I will grovel at your feet as you diminish my triumphs and those of the Band of Lovers! Punish me if you will, but I refuse to let this become some bickering match between those too thick-skulled to grasp the scope of this situation and those so naïve as to blindly defend me when none of you were there to witness. Punish me, but do not be so carelessly tyrannical to punish the Rangers that sit behind me as loyal members of my band. Do not be so—!”

Armani halted her speech as half of the room wondered what brought about such a sudden cease. On one side of the dim room stood a man in Ranger’s wears. He stood at a table with several other Rangers sitting around it. They all faced away from him, some of them even seeming to try to shield their eyes from him. Many of the council members did the same while others met his eyes with blank stares like Armani. The man, whose eyes had been closed for the whole meeting until that point, now stood with radiant eyes that shed an unimaginable glow about the place. Those who looked even in his general direction—including Armani and several members of the Band of Lovers—seemed to be in a sort of trance.

Those not caught in the man’s Spell listened to what he had to say. “Enough of this childish dissension,” he said in a calm voice, but one that carried throughout the entire room without the need for a microphone. “I feel that this session has gotten derailed. Are we not here to discuss solely the actions of Ms. Anderson and her group on the night of July 10th?”

The man who first spoke at the start of the meeting cleared his throat and stood. He, too, shielded his eyes from the gleaming orbs of the Ranger in the crowd. “Mr. Vinson is correct. Let us gather our thoughts in a more civilized manner and proceed to our final reading. Thank you, sir.” The Ranger stared at Armani who sat straight with an unblinking gaze focused back at him. Her eyes began to water from remaining open for so long and a single tear trickled down her cheek. The man’s own eyes began to quiver from exhaustion. He closed his eyes releasing all who had fallen under his hypnosis and sat down as the victims collapsed in their seats, unconscious.

“I apologize for my sudden intervention,” the Ranger said. After further deliberation, the council cast a vote to determine Armani’s fate. In a near tie, those voting to sentence Armani to further trial and punishment won the vote. Despite the preceding discord leading up to the vote, the council was well-behaved with the announcement of the results and Armani’s impending sentence.

The leading man stood once more and announced, “Armani Anderson, the council has voted and you have been deemed unfit to be released from custody without discipline and possible further penalization. You will proceed to proper trial held in a court within the jurisdiction of the Valley Strip. The Government will hold you fully responsible for your actions and the actions of The Band of Lovers as a whole. With this final determination, this session is now officially closed and there will be no more discussion until the date of your trial.” The man lifted a gavel from his desk and struck down on a block positioned squarely in the bottom right quadrant of the desk. Its sturdy BANG echoed throughout the chamber and the barely-conscious Armani gave no rebuke.

Click here for a map of the journey so far.