True Test of Character

Mabel cleaned up mess kits after breakfast while Curtis and Sly packed up camp. It had already been a day since they had left Proudkeep and they were approaching the next town called Tangate north of Proudkeep. 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 close-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’ ‘bout Rangers with Spells…”

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

“Do you 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 just like I was.”

“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 can probably say more about ‘em.”

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 said.

“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 person huddled close to the ground; they used a short stick with a cup-shape at the far end to toss a fist-sized ball about fifty feet away from themselves and plugged their ears with their 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 sharp 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 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 about a ten-foot radius, 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, 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 down 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.”

Mason lifted the satchel and let it rest on his thighs as Curtis cleared his throat and straight 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 every once in a while, 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 also gave Curtis a clue about what they were made of. They sounded almost like they were made of thin plastic, or perhaps papier-mâché. He 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 having to leave the mines. Nobody wants to 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. 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 also launched himself from the cart after dropping the bomb to the floor, 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 car 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 even kill the girl, too. He thought about blowing her up 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 Onyxlanding,” 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 from the Ranger, then kicked his stomach again. Sly’s head hurt even more, then. “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 finding his revolvers which must had 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 it flailed about trying to break free from its tie, so it was easy for Curtis to stealthily navigate to the weapon. He picked up the seven-shot revolver and felt that it was noticeably heavier that his own gun. He had always thought the extra bullet to not be 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 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. 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 ten feet 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 the hand Curtis held the gun in shooting pain into Curtis’s whole arm as the metal dug into his palm. The Outlaw 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 man 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 man 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 Dynamire struggled like this for a minute before Curtis finally broken the Satchel free of Dynamite’s grip, ripping 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. Then, 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.

Curtis 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 them a shadow was cast over him.

Curtis looked up to see Dynamite flying through the air as if he had jumped off the boulder Curtis was using as cover. Time seemed to slow as Curtis watched Dynamite ignite the 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 about seven feet 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…"

“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 usually 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 his 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 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 history, 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 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.

Curtis 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; he kept on 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 Tangate and continued right up the edges of the city and 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 examining 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 said, “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 to 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 is 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.”

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 asked.

“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 shoulder 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.

Feather nodded and said, “Okay, then.” Feather 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 the sound of a bird, then Fipo darted for Sly. Feather looked at his fellow Ranger and shouted, “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

To be continued…

Map on imgur: /a/rm9eolB