//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Dead-Eye Darling // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// The landscape remained flat and arid as they traveled, the darkening sky casting long shadows on the scrub and coarse vegetation. “The Princess is taking her time this evening,” Rarity murmured, glancing at the position of the sun. Frank had no idea what she was talking about and kept quiet. Rarity went on. “After walking all day, I think now would be a good time to relax and watch the sunset.” It occurred to Frank that perhaps all females were the same. Rarity’s statement sounded exactly like something a woman would say. It was also apparent that one should not go against the wishes of the fairer sex when they desired to see a sunset. He reluctantly slid out of the saddle. They had come to a small hillock that provided shelter from one direction. Frank managed to scour enough brush and scraps to build a small pile of kindling. An evening fire was hard to come by in this part of the country, and if he were by himself he certainly wouldn’t have bothered. The comparative bother Rarity probably would create, however, made the task of building a fire seem small. He lit it with one match from a small package that he had purchased. The unicorn sighed rather contentedly as she sat on her rump and watched the sunset. Frank shook his head and pulled out some jerky had had gotten from the store in Lubbock. Along with a handful of dried fruit and hardtack biscuits, it was his meal. Precious little food would stay unspoiled in the desert. Rarity noticed him eating and came over. “Dinner, excellent. I’m famished.” Frank pulled his biscuits back. “Hang on. There’s only enough to feed me for a few days.” “What are you talking about?” Rarity demanded. “You simply forgot to accommodate for my meals?” “I figured you would just eat grass.” Rarity gasped. “How very ungentlemanly of you. Also, what grass? There’s nothing but scraggly weeds around here.” “And I can’t eat that at all,” Frank argued. Trying to change tactics, he added, “At least you can live off the land. I have to pack everything along.” Rarity eyed the piece of jerky in his hand. “Is that meat?” “Yes.” “And is this saddle you’re having me wear made of tanned hide?” “We call it leather, but yes.” Rarity sighed and rolled her eyes theatrically. “You kill animals and you build weapons to kill each other, but drop you in the middle of nowhere and you need to pack your meals just to survive? As a species you really aren’t very good predators, Frank.” She unhitched the saddle and laid it on the ground beside the fire. Taking the teal hat off her head, Rarity sat it on top the saddle. “I’m going for a bite now. I hope I can stomach this garbage you call grass.” Frank hoped he could stomach a few more days of her attitude. Hopefully, it would only take that long to figure out where Teal Jack’s gang had gone and track them down. He didn’t relish meeting up with them, but he had until then to talk himself out of it. He frowned in thought. If Rarity had to get that diamond back in order to return to wherever she was from, then things would probably get ugly. There was no way Teal Jack would just let a gem like that go. As the sky continued to darken, Frank lay back and found a comfortable spot on the saddle blanket. He was asleep in minutes. Nearby, Rarity continued to chew on tough desert plants. They tasted like unadorned salad that had been replanted and been allowed to grow some more before being served to her. She directed her ire at Frank, who had apparently stolen her blanket and was already snoozing. It was easy to dislike him. At the same time, Rarity forced herself to be honest. Most of their struggles had been misunderstandings. That didn’t mean she was going to forgive him, though. Reaching for another mouthful of unidentified plant matter, Rarity heard a slight sound. Her head came up, mouth pausing in its crunching on some tasteless weed. She wasn’t sure what the noise might have been. Ears turning, Rarity slowly tried to figure out what it was she might have heard. And then something heavier than Frank slammed into her from behind. Shrieking in surprise, Rarity collapsed to the ground and rolled, feeling claws tear at her skin. The large cougar that had mistaken her for prey hadn’t managed to get a grip before she twisted free, and its claws left only shallow scratches. The two of them wrestled in the dirt, Rarity managing to come out on top. Her hoof collided with the big cat’s face. That seemed like a good idea, so she did it a few more times. A few feline teeth flew through the air. The cougar had been knocked senseless and lay limply, weak noises coming from its throat. Compared to a manticore, it was rather underwhelming. Breathing hard, Rarity got up and stumbled a few steps away. Her head jerked in surprise as Frank appeared at her side, brandishing his pistol. “Rarity, what in tarnation?” His swearing aside, Rarity gestured with a hoof by way of reply. Frank edged closer, not lowering his weapon. He inspected the battered cougar for a moment. “Looks like its jaw is broken. You really did a number on it.” “Everything just happened so fast,” Rarity murmured, gaining enough breath to speak. “Broke some teeth, too,” Frank observed, nudging one of the broken fragments with his foot as it lay on the ground. “It won’t be able to eat. We can’t just leave it.” “It tried to kill me!” Rarity blustered. “And I can’t imagine that there are many dangerous animal veterinarians that we could get it to!” “You’re right,” Frank acknowledged. “But we can’t let it starve to death or catch some disease.” He checked his gun and stepped back towards the cougar. Rarity looked between the two of them with alarm. “But why must we burden ourselves with putting it out of its misery?” “I take it you’ve never heard of the Code of the West,” said Frank, his voice quiet and tone reverent. “None of the rules are written down, but they don’t need to be. Every man has his own version of it, and makes it up as his conscience feels. Something is either right or wrong. Cruelty can’t be tolerated, don’t you agree?” Rarity gaped at him, slightly overcome by the moment but also Frank’s sudden display of emotional depth. “I...I suppose you’re correct.” Frank turned again and raised his pistol. Rarity stopped him. “Wait.” She looked away for a moment to collect herself and then explained, “This was my doing, my debt. I should be the one to finish it.” A new expression came to Frank’s face. He held his hand, the pistol flat in his palm. Rarity took it gingerly and pulled the hammer back. The cylinder rolled into position on a loaded chamber. Rarity whispered a quiet prayer to Celestia and did her duty to the wounded cougar. Rarity turned away, her eyes closing. Frank took the pistol and stepped close to her, resting a hand on her withers. A long minute passed in silence. Shifting his hand slightly, Frank noted, “You’re a little bloody.” He dabbed at the scratches on Rarity’s back with something. She let him work without complaint. The two of them walked back towards the dying embers of the fire. Rarity had lost her appetite and only wanted to rest. Frank seemed to share her sentiment. He folded his handkerchief to conceal the spots of blood and put it in his pocket. He lay down and looked relaxed. “How can you just go to sleep with cougars around?” Rarity questioned. “There aren’t that many, and if anything else comes along in the night it now has a nice meal that won’t fight back waiting for it.” Frank shrugged. “Can’t worry about everything.” Rarity had a hard time convincing herself, but if Frank, the native, was not concerned, then she decided perhaps it was safe. She lay down, silently bemoaning the hard ground. Though she should be sleeping, her thoughts drifted to Frank. What an odd creature he was; somewhat irreverent, yet dedicated to to at least a few principles. She had no idea what sort of circumstances in his life might have resulted in that. She didn’t know what his education might be or how he’d gotten to where he was. Frank had never asked her those questions, either. The night passed slowly. Rarity did not trouble herself with thinking for too long, somehow finding rest on the uncomfortable ground. Morning greeted her with a faint glow on the horizon. Frank was moving around, packing up what little he’d unpacked the previous evening. He took a small piece of paper and rolled tobacco into it, lighting the cigarette and smoking it in place of breakfast. Rarity got up and stretched, trying to work out the kinks from sleeping on the ground. Her back hurt, and she looked morosely at the scattering of scabs on her hide. They were small, however, and could easily be fixed with magic when she got home. Rarity was not worried about minor injuries. Frank brushed her down with a handful of dried grass, only managing to clean some of the dirt from her coat. His fingers seemed to know what to do about her tight muscles, however. It was no spa massage, but Rarity was pleased with the results. Frank took the smoke from his mouth. “Hold this.” He reached for the saddle and blanket. Rarity accepted the cigarette and had a quick puff. She coughed. “What sort of tobacco is this? It tastes stale and seems to have too much stem and not enough leaf.” “What are you, an expert? It’s what they had at the store,” Frank replied. He didn’t seem to want the cigarette back after Rarity’s lips had been on it, so she crushed it out while Frank settled the saddle and blanket onto her back and reached below to tighten the cinch. Rarity worked with him, making the process easier on them both. They set off as the sun crested the eastern horizon. The day was going to get hot, and both of them would need to find some water. Fortunately, a small trickle that was barely a stream came into view. Frank inspected the tracks of a few shod horses nearby while Rarity drank. There was no way to say for certain that they had come from Teal Jack’s gang, but the number of horses suggested that it had been a group of about the right size. Getting back on the trail, it was not difficult to follow the tracks. Even Rarity, who did not seem to have much experience with reading sign was able to pick them out without any trouble. At midday, they happened across a line of railroad tracks. Rarity turned her head to look accusingly at Frank. “If you have trains, then why are we walking?” “We’re following the gang cross-country,” he reminded her. “And I can’t afford tickets.” Rarity snorted. “Darling, if you needed money could could have just asked me.” They turned to follow the tracks. Within a few miles a small collection of buildings came into view. They were - all three of them - rough and hastily built. It was not a town so much as a semi permanent camp. The place had probably only sprung up because of the nearby train coal and water stop. There was a general store, a bunkhouse for railroad employees, and a saloon. A hitching rail near the store presented itself. Rarity wasn’t wearing bit, bridle, or reins, but she got the point. A horse stood there when they arrived. Frank checked quickly and determined he was a gelding. Hopefully there would be no problems leaving Rarity here. She looked at the horse, but remembered what Frank had said about them just being animals. Glancing through the general store’s window, she inspected the meager display of products. “There’s still some gold dust left,” Frank noted. “Is there anything we need?” “I would just love to go shopping,” Rarity noted sarcastically. “Please, tell me where I can find a real store?” “I’ve gotten the feeling that you aren’t used to roughing it,” Frank observed. Rarity glared at him but didn’t trouble herself to respond. Turning away, Frank started for the store but paused. “Just remember what we talked about. As far as everybody knows, you’re just a regular pony.” Rarity could argue that all this dirt was making her a regular pony, but if she was going to start pretending that she couldn’t talk, it might as well be now. Frank continued into the store. A few minutes passed while Rarity waited. A couple of people passed by. They each seemed interested in her hat, but none came close. Rarity swished her tail to ward off flies. A tumbleweed rolled down the street. When Frank came back, he had a small sack. Inside were a few food items that he packed into the saddlebags. And then he took out a small, thin object wrapped in paper and carefully tied with string. He showed it to Rarity and unwrapped it, revealing a lacquered wood cigarette holder. The craftsmanship was impressive and finding such a thing in the middle of nowhere was astonishing. Frank also took out a small package of tobacco that actually looked premium quality. He rolled two cigarettes and fitted one into the holder, putting the mouthpiece between Rarity’s lips. She accepted it with pleasure. Frank lit a match for both of them. Rarity cocked her head at an elegant angle and blew out a thin wisp of smoke. This tobacco was not the best she had ever tasted, but much better than she expected. A man walking by stopped in his tracks, staring. Frank gave him a look. “What, never seen a pony smoking before?” Rarity snorted, as if mocking the idea that a classy mare with a fashionable cigarette holder was anything but ordinary. The man jerked, as if only just realizing that she was smoking. He shook his head. “Actually, I was thinking that hat looks like it belongs to Teal Jack Smith. He was bareheaded when he came through yesterday.” Frank’s face showed his interest. “Any idea where he went after leaving here?” The man shrugged. “Maybe you can ask Clay Dixon. When the gang left, he stayed here and got drunk.” Frank tensed. Clay Dixon was a known member of Teal Jack’s gang, and a snake in his own right. They needed the information he might provide, but there was no way Frank had the moxie to face him on even terms. He tipped his hat to the man who had given Dixon’s name. With a nod to Rarity to follow, Frank walked away from the hitching rail. They regrouped behind the saloon to form a plan. “Is this Clay Dixon dangerous?” Rarity asked. “Yes. We’re going to figure out how to get the drop on him.” Frank sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy.” And it wasn’t. Ultimately, their plan came down to the idea that Dixon wouldn’t know Frank had backup. That didn’t reduce the danger any, but it would have to do. That evening, when Clay Dixon stumbled out of the saloon in a somewhat intoxicated haze, Frank was waiting. Dixon was a sharp dresser, with new clothing and tooled boots and belts. His white hat was immaculate, somehow free of trail dust. The saddle and tack on his horse were custom, a design that resembled a Confederate cavalry rig, except with more polished brass and a better finish on the leather. The guns in the saddle holsters were not military-issue, either. Dixon had a pair of .45 caliber Colt Single Action Army pistols. They had come custom from the factory with ten inch barrels. A master gunsmith had intricately decorated the pair with engraving, coated everything with a shiny nickel finish, and added pearl grips. Dixon had untied his horse from the rail when Frank caught his eye. Frank was positioned at the corner of the saloon and quickly walked out of sight after being spotted. A few seconds passed. Frank made his way to the next corner and stopped behind the building. There was no one back there, and whatever happened would go unobserved. The plan he and Rarity had formed, getting Dixon alone, worked. It slightly surprised Frank, to be honest. Dixon appeared behind the saloon, one hand leading his horse and the other hovering over a gun on his belt. He faced down Frank. “Do I know you, mister?” “We’ve met,” Frank allowed. “It was yesterday.” Dixon nodded, a smile coming to his lips. “I remember now. What’s troubling you, friend? Maybe I have something of yours?” While he chuckled, Rarity approached stealthily and pulled the pistol from Dixon’s hip holster, holding it to the back of his head. The click of the hammer going back silenced him. She tapped the muzzle against his skull just to drive the message home. Frank drew his own gun, just for backup. “Yes Dixon, you owe me a few things.” “Including a few tips about style,” Rarity muttered as she appraised Dixon’s fancy clothes and kit. “He could talk to you about that.” Dixon sputtered for a moment but the gun at his head stopped him from turning around. “You got a woman helping you out?” Rather than answering the question, Frank asked, “Where did the rest of the gang go?” “None of us could quite agree on what happened yesterday,” Dixon admitted. “I’ve seen a lot of strange things, but that took the cake. I know what I saw in that flash of light, but I’m not sure if I believe it. Teal Jack was raving like a madman, though. Swore he was going to get to the bottom of things. Personally, I decided to quit myself of that and do a little relaxing here. The rest of them were probably headed on southwest.” “What for?” Frank prodded. Dixon shrugged. “Don’t know. Anyway, I’ve already told you enough.” “So what about reparations for the robbery?” Rarity put in. “I think women should be seen and not heard,” Dixon replied, still looking at Frank. “Pretty much the exact opposite of a broad like you.” “Why I never!” Rarity began unbuckling the saddle she wore, still holding the gun. “Just for that, I think I’ll give you a taste of what I’ve had to go through since you made off with that robbery.” She quickly swapped the saddles, leaving Dixon with Frank’s old one. After Frank saw that she had finished cinching straps and transferring the contents of saddlebags, he nodded. “I reckon that makes us even, Dixon.” Rarity unloaded Dixon’s gun and slid it back into its holster. Frank kept his own weapon out to distract Dixon while Rarity slipped away. Realizing that he wasn’t about to be shot, Dixon glanced with distaste at the old gear now adorning his horse. He looked back to Frank. “If I catch up to you again, I’m going to take this out of your hide.” Frank nodded and walked past him, back out to the front of the saloon. He met Rarity there and mounted up. They headed out of town at a fast trot. The new saddle was a little strange to get used to, and Frank shifted a little, getting a feel for it. The thing was certainly fancy enough, with its baubles and polish. As they traveled, Rarity slipped the pair of shiny pistols out of their holsters and appraised them, rolling the cylinders and inspecting the finish. “I don’t believe I’ve seen such intricate work in quite a long time. That engraving must have taken ages to do. I think I will like these very much.” Frank himself had his eyes on the pistols, but as Rarity giggled with glee at their polish and smooth operation, he decided that maybe letting her have them was the smarter option. Rarity seemed to have a way of getting what she wanted. Armed, even more so.