//------------------------------// // Chapter 49 // Story: Unshaken // by The 24th Pegasus //------------------------------// Take Wanderer back by force: 10 Votes Gain progress toward the following skill: Daring (3/4) “We have a Chatter gun,” Silver offered. “We might be able to put that to good use. Them Vipers won’t know what hit ‘em.” Kestrel rubbed her chin and frowned as she thought. “Maybe… The thing’s best used on defense where we got a bunch of ‘em comin’ at us, ‘specially in the wagon like it is. We can only shoot it one way, out the side of Trixie’s wagon where the stage pops out. But it’s a thought.” She turned her eyes toward the other end of the room, where Roughshod groaned and sat up, clutching at his chest and the stitches holding him together. “First things first, though, we gotta get outta here. Then I’ll talk to Tumbleweed about it.” She crossed the floor to the other end of the doctor’s office, Silver following behind her, and the doctor jumped when she purposefully brushed her wing against his side. “How you feelin’, Rough?” she asked, and after shooting the doctor a sideways look, she added, “Doc treat you alright?” “Nnrgh… Better than ever,” Roughshod grunted, hopping down from the operating table. He winced as his legs nearly buckled beneath him, but he managed to stand upright and support his own weight. “Where’s Adder? I want to mash his damn skull to a pulp. This is all his fault.” “Easy there, Rough,” Tumbleweed cautioned him, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “You’re fixed up a little, but you ain’t ready to go crackin’ skulls. Not yet, at least.” Roughshod has regained 1 point of Healthiness from receiving medical treatment and is now only Seriously Injured (-2 Healthiness). “A bad day for me is still a good day for the rest of y’all,” Roughshod grunted. He worked his neck from side to side, forcing the stiffness out as best he could, and his eyes soon settled on the doctor standing across from him. “Thank you kindly, doctor. I hope we’ve reached an understandin’ after all of this. I ain’t lookin’ to come back for a follow-up, know what I mean?” “Oh, is that the way you show your appreciation for the stallion that patched you up?” Tumbleweed scolded Roughshod. Kestrel watched with a bemused smile on her lips as Tumbleweed draped his foreleg across the doctor’s back and leaned in close. “We’re mighty thankful for your help, my kind sir,” he said, and he used his magic to retrieve a few bits from a pocket on his vest and press them into the doctor’s hooves. “Hopefully we’ll continue to be thankful after we’re gone. This is a real unfortunate injury our friend has found himself with, and we’d all be appreciative if you kept it between us friends… and nopony else. Understand me, sir?” Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to guarantee the doctor will stay silent: Success “I… I-I understand,” the doctor said, nervously taking the bits and tucking them away. “I-It’s my duty as a doctor to help p-ponies, no matter who they might be…” “That’s right.” Tumbleweed smirked and patted him on the shoulder before stepping away. “Well, friends, I suppose it’s time we get movin’. I have the distinct feelin’ we ain’t wanted no more in town.” Kestrel nodded and immediately set about directing traffic. “Silvie, go upstairs and take a peek around the buildin’ from up above. Make sure nopony’s watchin’ and waitin’ for us. Knock on the back door when we’re clear, then get to Snapshot and get back to the wagons. Me and Tumbleweed’ll get Roughshod outta town and meet you there.” When Silver nodded and took off, racing up the stairs, Kestrel turned to Rough and looked the big stallion up and down. “You able to walk?” “Of course I can walk, you harlot,” Roughshod grunted. “You lead the way and I’ll stay glued right to your flank.” Kestrel flicked her tail to the side. “Enjoy it while it lasts, ‘cause it’s the closest you’re gettin’.” “Don’t think I’d want to get no closer myself, anyhow.” He frowned at her and made a face as if he’d smelled something putrid. “Smells like you’ve been outta service for a while, anyhow. I ain’t gonna be the first to go plumbin’.” Kestrel felt her feathers bristling but she refused to let Rough’s words get under her skin. “I doubt you got a tool big enough to even start.” Tumbleweed chuckled and put his head in his hoof. “Foals, the both of you, I swear.” Are there deputies near the doctor’s office? No A knock on the door interrupted them, and Kestrel opened it with a wing, the other wrapping its feathers around the grip of her revolver. When she opened it, she saw Silver nod that it was clear before the young mare took off in a dash of feathers, disappearing once more into the night. “Coast is clear,” Kestrel said, relaying the information back to her companions. She opened the door a bit wider and slipped into the nighttime coolness of the desert air. “C’mon, let’s go!” Roughshod staggered out after her, followed by Tumbleweed, who simply tipped his hat toward the doctor before shutting the door behind them. After a moment to check that the coast was clear, the three slipped into the darkness, leaving the town and the frantically buzzing hornets’ nest they’d kicked behind them. It took some time to make it back to the wagons; Kestrel was happy to see them right where they’d left them, not missing or burnt to the ground. A single candle was lit behind the shuttered windows of Trixie’s wagon, and when Roughshod grunted, groaned, and sat down hard next to the wagon, the candle guttered out as somepony inside jumped. “Who goes there?!” came Trixie’s shrill voice from inside, and Tumbleweed and Kestrel snickered at each other as the rookie outlaw seemingly tripped over something and fell hard on the floor within. “Trixie is armed and dangerous! Stay back!” “It’s us, you bumbling dolt,” Tumbleweed said, knocking on the wall next to the window. “Where’s Miss Irons?” The shuttered window opened, and the elderly mare stuck her head out instead of Trixie. “You’re back,” she observed, and her eyes scanned over the three of them, looking for three more. “Where are the others? Where’s Wanderer?” “Silver and Snapshot are comin’,” Tumbleweed said, and when Kestrel looked over her shoulder, she saw a familiar metallic coat glowing in the moonlight down the road, accompanying a second pony. “Wanderer… ain’t.” Miss Irons’ eyes widened. “He isn’t? What happened to him?” “We’re gonna get him back,” Kestrel assured her. “He’s bein’ held by the Vipers. They didn’t want us slippin’ town early, so I guess we ain’t.” “If he’s held by the Vipers, how are we going to get him back?” Miss Irons eyed Roughshod and her stern face grew all the more harsh. “It certainly seems like finding that out was difficult enough, but taking on this whole gang?” “They ain’t got a Chatter gun,” Kestrel said. “But we do.” “Chatter gun?” Trixie finally popped her head out of the window next to Miss Irons and anxiously peered into the night. “But you mounted that in Trixie’s wagon. How are you supposed to use it if it’s mounted in my wagon?” “We’d need somepony to pull it to the Vipers’ gulch, obviously.” Tumbleweed shot Trixie a grin. “You volunteerin’, lil’ missy?” Trixie’s face went pale. “I… w-well…” As Silver and Snapshot rejoined the camp, Tumbleweed turned toward Kestrel. “If we’re gonna take the fight to the Vipers, we better have a plan for gettin’ through this. We got the night to plan it and get whatever sleep we can manage. At noon, Rattlesnake wants to have this parley with us, so we have to strike by then. Maybe at the parley; I’m sure he’s plannin’ on ambushin’ us as well then.” “I’d stake my life on it,” Kestrel said. “Probably have to, as well.” Silver shuddered. “Oh, Celestia, I ain’t likin’ the sound of any of this…” “Well, now’s our time to plan,” Tumbleweed said. “I’m open to any and all suggestions. We gotta get a good, solid plan together for this, and we gotta do it right. If we muck this up, we’ll likely all be feedin’ vultures. Rattlesnake’s probably got a plan of his own in place as well. Anybody got somethin’ they want to say, say it, and let’s discuss.” SPECIAL POLL: SEE AUTHOR’S NOTES