Sixes Wild: A Quick Buck
#2 of Sixes Wild
A fruit bat sheriff gets more than he bargained for...
Sixes Wild: A Quick Buck
by Tempe O'Kun
A little more fun in the Old West for you fine furs. :)
I've never taken to drink much myself. Make my wings burn and, besides, a sheriff needs to maintain a certain command of his faculties. Doesn't seem to stop others. The entire town seems to be out in the street, celebrating the Fourth of July. Rowdy folk, loud for my tender ears, but that's good. Let them get it out now, rather than in the saloon later. I buy a sarsaparilla off Doc Richards and he offers to twist the cap off for me. I politely decline and get it with my hindpaw and wing. Most folk never understand why bats don't take issue with having wings in place of arms. Most folk haven't ever flown either. Balanced on one leg, I take a swig. It's good.
The sad eyes of my bloodhound deputy catch me through the crowd. Harding's a bloodhound and a damn good tracker. Could've taken the post after Sheriff Collins bit a bullet, but he likes life as a deputy. Can't blame him. Folk are less likely to shoot you.
"Blake! You're gonna wanna come see to this."
I toss Doc the bottle and run through the crowd, following Harding. Already, he's wagging at the excitement of the chase. Once I get up a head of steam, I jump, kicking off his shoulder and taking to the air.
We get to Hayes' General Wares in time to see Tanner Hayes turn all different shades of furious. He's a lion and owns a fitting share of the local mining concern. Darn fool's stomping around like his mane's in a twist, still in his best bib and tucker.
I land, stirring up a mess of dust. "What's the ruckus here?"
"I've been robbed!" He bustles toward me, his portly frame pushing onlookers out of the way. Crowds kick up fast when you start yelling in the streets while half the town is out to celebrate.
"When?"
"Just now! I came back to the store and my strongbox is gone!" He roars in frustration. "One of the staff saw a fella run down the alley just before I arrived."
I hear Harding catch up to me. I turn to him. "Deputy! Head on up to the stables. Search anybody who could be carrying large amounts of cash."
Harding pants, jowls drooping more than usual. "W-where are you goin'?"
I jump to the overhang at the general store. "I'm gonna ride the outskirts, see if anybody leaves." I dive off, pumping my wings and making a mad dash for the Town Office. I needn't have bothered.
I get within a block of the Office when all hell breaks loose.
Gunshot and muzzle flashes. All four horses in the town stables explode out of their corral. The few townsfolk not at the celebration scream and clamor out of the way. Night is falling fast, but I have good eyes. One of the horses has a rider. There's my thief. On my horse. A few fools cheer at the gunfire, thinking it's the start of the fireworks.
I fly hard, but I can't catch a horse in the long haul. One shot. I dive.
My paws make contact with the body of the rider, knocking him over. I open my wings, softening my fall. I skid into the side of a house and draw my gun. The rider never falls. I look up just in time to see the scoundrel climb back up, still clinging to the pommel of the saddle. Damn. Must've heard me dive.
I get up, dust off, and see about catching one of the horses. Hell if I'm done with this fool yet.
The fireworks start.
* * * * *
Hours later, I'm tracking the trail on a borrowed horse. Harding would've been on this trail like a stink on a wet dog, but all the gun powder mussed with his nose something terrible. Never could catch the scent of the fella who broke in. Fool can hardly even walk straight when his sniffer's shot, so I left him with Tanner Hayes to take a deposition like the lion wanted. I don't envy the deputy. Hayes' tail was already cracking like a whip when I skedaddled.
My lantern bounces. I've never been too good with holding thing in my wing thumbs. Now that no one can see, however, I ride sidesaddle. This leaves my paws free to grab my gun, should I find the need.
Soon enough, I do.
I see faint light in the ridge ahead, down by Skull Creek. They call it that because the stones in the rapids are white and round as bleached skulls. It's fast, wide, and deep. I slip off the horse, douse my lantern, and pick my way quietly through the boulders and scrub brush. Now, either this thief is damned lucky or he heard my wings when I dove back in town. Either way, I'm doing my best not to make a sound. I make it to a larger stone nearest to him and listen myself, waiting for my heartbeat to come off its roiling boil. The rumble of the rapids in the shallow valley beside us helps to hide my footsteps.
I hear the sound of exerted breath, only one person, and something else too: digging. The clank of a shovel against stone, the sound of it biting earth. Now's my chance. He'll be distracted.
I roll over the stone, drawing my gun. I yell over the crash of the rapids. "Hands up!"
No sooner have the words left my muzzle than the head of that same shovel cracks me in the paw. My gun goes skittering across the sandy dirt, landing near the strongbox. In front of me, there's a hare grinning. My thief.
I try to dive toward my gun, but the hare hurls the shovel my way. The handle strikes the tip of my right ear. I hear the pull of metal on leather. He's drawing iron. I forget my own gun and dive on the bunny. He's a head taller than me, but few folks have ever wrestled a fruit bat. We tussle. I grapple him with my paws while my wings sweep his own away from the holsters. With any luck, I can grab his own gun. Turns out I haven't a sliver of luck. The holster has some trick to it, the kind that only draws a certain way.
The hare punches me in the ear. I scream.
Neither of us like that too much. Seems we both have tender ears. Serves him right for hearing me coming.
I twist around and grab his paws with mine. This lands my crotch square center on his chest, but if we cared much for propriety, we wouldn't be in such a tussle. The air has a touch of mist from the rapids.
I grab his ear in my jaws. I bite hard enough to show I'm serious. Now it's the bunny's turn to holler.
"Ahh! Get off me, ya damn bat!" His voice is high from panic and pain, audible over the crash of the rapids.
I let go of his ear. The meaty taste of hare and the prickle of fur cling to my tongue. "Settle the hell down! This dance is over." My right wing pulls the cuffs from my belt. I struggle to snap them into place. My thief is strong for a bunny. His fur is soft in my hindpaws. He kicks at my back, but I'm far enough up that he can't reach. He growls. Never heard that from a hare before.
With both paws and both wings, I manage to get one of the cuffs on when I hear it. We both do, since the hare freezes too.
At least three guns are cocked back. I look around and see steel gleaming in the lantern light. Several dark forms surround us.
I straighten up, still sitting on the hare's chest. "I am Sheriff Jordan Blake. Stand down, boys. I've got this matter handled."
"Actually Sheriff..." A new voice grinds like a whetstone. "We've got this matter handled." One of the figures steps into the light, leveling his rifle at me. He's a lynx, and he's not in a kind mood, judging by the set of his dagger-tip ears. "Get up. Both of you."
The look in the lynx's face is a spit's distance away from being murder made flesh. He's not on my side. These men are outlaws.
I stand, glancing at the bunny. He stares back, but I can see the unsteadiness in his eyes. Aw hell. He wasn't banking on this either.
As we stand, I grab his other hand, but click the cuff on air. I pass it to him and step away. For all they saw, I finished cuffing him. The hare looks at me, surprised as a bear with a mouthful of bees. He says nothing, though that little puff of a tail twitches.
My eyes find my gun, but one of the outlaws, a boar, has already picked it up. Beside me, the rapids roar.
There are at least three of them, likely another few in the shadows, if they're smart. I play dumb. "You boys had best ease up. Wouldn't do to accidentally kill a lawman."
"Then you'd best shut yer hole, bat." The lynx leers. "Otherwise, we might just have an accident."
"Ya might as well drop the act, fellas." The hare grins. "We all know you're working for the lion Hayes."
I turn to the bunny. "We do?!"
He winks. "Do now."
The lynx snarls. "The hell makes you think we work for anybody?"
The hare straightens, edging closer to me, adjusting his unlocked cuffs behind his back. He grabs something from behind his belt. Idiot! He's supposed to go for his guns! Instead, he just flips up one ear and stands all casual. "How else'd ya have gotten out here so fast? Nobody but me knew I was gonna steal the cash, so clearly somebody else told ya to come lookin' for little ol' me. Stands to reason it'd be Hayes."
"Huh. Smart for a little piss of a bunny. Too bad you pieced it together." He raises the rifle. His buddies do the same. His finger slips over the trigger. "Too bad for you."
In a blur of motion, the hare throws a small bundle at the lynx, kicks off the side of a rock, and knocks me hard to the side. Gunshots ring into the night. The bundle explodes into a dusting of dollar bills.
I hit the water.
Skull Creek runs right out of the mountains. It is cold. Deathly cold, and my wings do nothing but suck my heat out faster. The gunshots sound funny underwater. I'm busy trying to breathe. The bunny is clinging to me like the last shred of hope and it's drowning me. The water is quick. We crash against the rocks. I scream and swear, losing what little air I have. I'm sure I'm gonna die. My mind offers nothing of real value, save the knowledge that at least I caught this idiot bunny. I then realize that he caught me. A rock hits me in the head.
* * * * *
Dime novels get two things wrong about a crack to the head: you rarely get knocked out and you always, always wish you had been. The world goes tumbling past in blasts of pain, rolling water, and finally a strong paw hauling me out of the rapids. I cough and spit to clear the taste of blood out of my mouth. I shake the water from my ears just in time to hear a gun being reloaded. I look up. My thief stands over me, out of paw's reach, with a pistol trained on my chest.
"Hold it there, wings." Water drips off his muzzle. He's still shaking and his ears are too heavy to rise. Those paws keep steady, however. "I've got dry rounds in this piece a' iron and I don't got a mind for another wrestling match."
I roll to my back, cough some more.
He pulls a thin rope from his belt. With the same easy motion I saw him throw that bundle of bills, he chucks the wet rope against my gut. "Tie that 'round your wings, if you'd be so kind."
I oblige. Having a bat's hindpaws makes the task easier than it sounds. "I don't suppose you pulled me outta the drink just to put a some lead in my chest."
"I reckon neither of us can afford to go makin' any more assumptions tonight." He cocks the hammer back. The cuffs dangle from one paw.
I shiver and finish tying up. My breath comes in clouds in front of me.
After checking that I'm properly trussed, the hare tugs on the other end of the rope. "Come on. They'll be trackin' down the banks of the creek."
I have an itch to ask how cats are goin' to track us in the dark, but then I remember which of us has the guns. He leads me on a ways. We're both stumbling, but manage to put some distance between us and Skull Creek. The boulders run bigger on this part of the valley and there's enough brush to give some cover. His hips move kind of funny, but that could just be the gunbelt. After trekin' through the night for a good ways, my mind starts to wander. I'm soaked through the fur and can barely keep one paw in front of the other. I bump right into my thief before I realize he's stopped. The bunny swears under his breath, but holsters his gun, giving me an apraising look. I am too cold to care. We fruit bats aren't the most robust of folk and a dunk in a mountain creek wasn't the best thing for my constitution. I sit down hard, nearly collapsing. The hare's still eyeing me up. His ears look a touch soft, even wet. After a spell, he sits, bracing against one of the rocks. Paws still on iron, twitching at every breeze.
I do my best to look abiding.
"That was some quick thinking with the cuffs, lawbat." He squeezes the water off the fur of one ear, then the other. "'Course, would've been nice had they not got the drop on you in the first place..."
We share an unsteady smile.
Inside a half hour, the outlaws still haven't showed up to kill us. We're both shivering something fearsome. Eventually, I speak up. "Say, bunny..."
He jumps, ears trying to rise.
I keep talking, softer. The sound of my own voice'd scared me a mite as well. "You never mentioned a name."
"Don't reckon I did, Sheriff Jordan Blake." He puts a bite into each bit of my name.
"Care to?"
A pause. One paw twitches on the handle of his gun. "Six."
"Six?"
"Six."
"Hell of a name."
"I'm a hell of a bunny."
"Can't argue there." I laugh just a little. "So I figure fire's a bad idea, as it'd lead to us being shot by those charming fellas."
"Suppose I'd have to agree." He gives me an approving look.
He sits about a yard from me, taking me apart with with those big bunny eyes. No movements, except for the slightest flaring of the nose. He is testing me, feeling me out. Finally, he smiles under his drooped and quivering ears. "Tell me, Sheriff. Ya got any ideas about us not freezin' to death?"
I clear my throat. There's something to the way he's looking me over... Something I can't quite place a paw on... I feel a bit like the candied fruit in a window display.
His eyes narrow just a touch, his lips curl a hint upward. "Well, we might see about getting a mite closer..."
I just stare at him. I have notion, but it could be that rock did me some genuine damage and I just think I have a notion. I try to shrug, but am tied up. "I... Umm..."
He gets up, sets his guns down, and sidles up next to me. I'm not typically one for cuddling up to other guys, but something's going on here. After a moment of quiet from both of us, he leans in against my shoulder. We're side by side. His clothes are still wet, even if mine were starting to dry. For once, I'm thankful for my thinner fur. Small blessings, I guess. I start to relax, but he pulls on that rope again and nods to the guns. "You make a move for those pieces and you'll be spending the night hogtied."
"Wouldn't dream of such a thing."
"See that you don't."
We sit that way for a long while. Nothing but the moon and the wind. After a while, he starts to ease up a bit, though the paw holding my rope never relaxes. I lean back against the bunny. Really no time for propriety. The hare shifts, muzzle burying against my neck. I twitch a little at the cold of his nosepad. Then my nose catches a hint of something. I'd smelled this bunny before, of course, but now with most of the grime washed off, he smells softer, warmer, almost smelled like...
I look down to see the hare studying my expression. Looks to be deciding between waiting this out, shooting me right here, or doing something else I'd not discuss in mixed company. I bank on it not being the second one and clear my throat. "You-- You're a..."
"...Yeah." The hare speaks softly, though her voice still holds a grit of smoke, her body still, her eyes wide.
"Okay. No need for that look, bunny." I take a breath. "I don't exactly blame ya."
No response. She sits with that perfect stillness only hares seem to have.
"So, I'm guessin' the reason ol' Harding couldn't track you is because... Well, he was expecting a..."
"Yeah."
"And I can tell now because..."
"The most of men don't get this close to me."
I put on a theatrical voice. "Not alive, anyhow."
She squeaks. Almost a laugh. Maybe she won't shoot me.
She rolls close, laying between my legs.
I give her a questioning look.
She looks up, ears quivering a slight bit. "Cold."
I nod. "Fine by me. It was my idea to start with, remember?"
She tugs the rope again, putting pressure on my wing bones. "Don't get ideas."
"I'm not! I'm just... adjusting to the facts, is all."
We lay there, her floppy bunny ears all flopped over my shoulder. I try to relax, move to make the rock dig into my back a little less. She is shivering against me. I decide to keep her talking. "So exactly why were those men so bent on doing us in? Or do you just have that effect on folk?"
"They're workin' for that overgrown pussycat, Tanner Hayes." She pulls a pick from her boot and goes to work on the cuff still clamped on her wrist. She works it partway in, but it takes some doing before it clicks, on account of her shivering. "He meant for them to steal the cash so he might get his paws on the insurance."
"But you double crossed them."
"The hell I did. I never met them 'til just this evenin'."
"So how'd you come to know the plan?"
She flips an ear up. It hits me in the muzzle with a wet smack. "How'd ya think?"
"And you stole it first."
"If they didn't want me to, they oughtta have picked a hotel with thicker walls. Or not gotten full as ticks on cheap swill."
"Huh. And nobody'd believe he was robbed the same way twice."
"Yep."
We sit for a minute. "And now they're coming to kill us."
"They're comin' to kill you, lawbat. They still need me."
I look her in the eye; this bunny's set a real burn to my wings. "The hell for?
She groans, hanging her head to the side and letting her ears dangle, sending a telegraph tingle up my spine. "To tell 'em where the money is."
"But you were burying the strongbox when I caught you."
"That ah was."
My ears tuck back against the night's cold. I think. It took near to three hours for me to find her and I was tracking. She could've outrun me just fine. So why was she only starting to dig when I found her? Suddenly, it hits me like a hoof to the head. "...That strongbox is empty. You already hid the money somewhere else."
The hare gives a shivering laugh. "Hope for you yet, Sheriff." She is holding me a fair bit closer than is strictly necessary for warmth. I can feel certain lady parts pressed against me in an altogether unladylike manner.
I direct my mind elsewhere and try to be a gentleman. "Won't they look inside?"
"I fixed 'em in apple pie order: locked it right back up. They'll have to take it back to Hayes to get the key. I'm sure that kitty'll be pleased as punch to get back all that fancy blank paper." Even freezing, she sounds proud. "Besides, we got a good half hour's start for the trail to go cold."
"How'd you figure?"
"That's how long it takes to pick up few dozen twenty-dollar bills in the dark."
"They'll pick 'em up?"
"Wouldn't you?"
I straighten up. "I'd have got my man."
"Well, ya sure did that!" She pulls the rope taut. Her paw shakes. "Play by Hoyle's rules and ya loose at poker."
"Hoyle never wrote a word on poker."
"Bosh! I've seen those pretty little books he puts out."
"They just use his name to sell it. He was dead a hundred years before anybody threw a chip in."
"The hell'd you learn a thing like that? Wait, now..." She quirked an ear. Her gaze is steady. She's not shivering. "You're not local. You've got Old States education written all over you."
I expect her to talk on it more, but that is the sum of it. She lays her head back against my chest, paw still clenched on the rope. There's nary a move from her, but I don't figure for a minute she's asleep. I can't afford to fall asleep, but sky's a heck of a lot brighter when I finish resting my eyes. Her guns shine in the first light of the morning. Pretty little things, now that I look at them. Matched set too; I wonder how she laid paw on such custom jobs.
The hare's still not moving. I breath deeper, steeling myself.
In one tightly sprung movement, I go for her gun.
She gasps as I jump for it and roll away. I get a hindpaw under myself, clutching the gun in the other. I train it on her.
The hare yawns and stretches against the boulder. "Wondered when you'd do that." A wink.
I steady the gun. "Sorry, Six. I've gotta take you in."
She doesn't move, just grins up at me. That little fluff of a tail bobs.
We stare at each other for a long moment. The cuffs, the river, the freezing night: it all runs through my mind. The pistol lowers. "Aw heck, I can't prove a darn thing anyhow." I toss the pistol back to her.
Catching it with one paw, she laughs. "That's just as well. I never had any dry rounds in the first place." She spins the gun into her grip and levels it. "Watch."
A deafening bang.
The bullet ricochets off a rock beside me, scattering chips against my tender wings. I scowl at her, at myself, at the ropes my wing thumbs can't untie.
The bunny just stands there, ears back from the noise. "Dang. Who'd a' thought they'd still work?"
She snags the matching gun, holsters both, and undoes the knot. I flap, letting the blood back into wings with a tingle and prickle. My ears ring. Our eyes meet. "Grand. Now what's the plan?"
"The plan..." A whetstone voice, echoes from behind the rocks. "...is to show us where in the hell the cash went." A lynx steps out. His ears are pinnned back and his rifle is cocked.
Six's paws flash to her iron, but I soon see we're surrounded. If her shot hadn't halfway deafened us, we might have head them coming!
A load clang. The empty strongbox crashes against the boulder beside us. The lock dangles in pieces, smashed apart. Three more outlaws surround us.
I look over to my thief, wondering how we're going to deal with this new fix.
Her tail twitches.
She levels her iron at me, and next thing I know the world is exploding in a great crash of pain and noise. Flat on my back, it comes to me after a moment.
The bunny shot me.
If you'd give a holler 'bout your feelings on this here tale, I'd be much obliged! ^_^
The next part should be out shortly.