A/N: Okay I can't believe I'm doing this, I must be officially crazy.

I have been sitting on this little firecracker for a few months now. I had the idea for a Caryl story set in the Old West last year, after someone photoshopped Carol and Daryl wearing sombreros and my hunt began for a Western. I couldn't find one so I decided to write one and it just ran away from me. Then the prompts for Nine Lives AU Prompt-a-thon came up and I was both terrified and excited to see an Old West prompt. I really had no intentions of posting this because a) I am horribly unreliable muse-wise sometimes so can't guarantee regular updates, b) because it is unfinished and I have never done the 'post as you write' thing and c) I don't have ALL the plot details finalised yet. But I just thought WHAT THE HELL *throws caution to the wind* So I'm going into this literally blindfolded lol. I have a few chapters done but you will need to wait for them! I hope you'll all join me and some of our faves on a wild ride through the west, where the lands are unforgiving and harsh, and nothing is what it seems.

I truly hope you enjoy this one. I'm excited to be writing another multi-chap. Let's see where this wind blows us!

My everlasting thanks to Emily (kaoscraze82) for being my long suffering friend and beta. Also to Alli, Meeshie, Fairies Masquerade and lovesdaryl for your encouragement.


Prologue – Strung Up

The wind gusted over the barren dunes, sweeping dust up in great clouds that all but obscured the eerie moonlit wasteland. A hooded rider raised a gloved hand to provide some protection against the sharp bite of the sand as it whipped viciously through the night.

There were six of them, gathered under a tree in front of a pinto, head slung low, grinding its bit lazily as its rider awaited his fate. His hands were tied behind his back, leaving no means of protection from the hostile desert atmosphere. The man's face glittered under the light of the moon, streaked with blood and sweat. A tall man with an eyepatch over one eye held a length of rope in his hand: he hurled it over a low bough and turned to mutter something to another man, dressed all in black. The other man nodded and took the rope, reaching up and momentarily knotting it around the pommel of his huge mount's saddle.

Watching, waiting. They became the same thing, alone in the dark, in the solitary moan of the wind. Just as the black of night left nowhere untouched, time seemed to entwine with it, stretching on, and on. If it could speak, the landscape would be loath to give up the abyss of secrets and lies that swirled in the grains whispering on the wind. This whole god forsaken place felt haunted to most. To the lone rider, it was nothing more than water off a duck's back - such unforgiving places instilled no fear. To one who had spent life wandering the plains, picking off vagabonds as they required picking, it was home.

The rider watched from behind a forlorn, weather beaten shack that had been someone's home at some point. It lay abandoned, like the inhabitants had been plucked from the supper table, leaving only shadows of stories that would never be told. Hides that once had been left out in the sun to dry flapped pitifully, worn thin and holey by the unrepentant, abrasive gust. The rider turned to acknowledge a snort from the mount lazing nearby, underneath the meagre rustle of dead, crispy foliage. The wind calmed a little, and the men's voices carried better on the breeze.

"So it's finally come down to this. I have to say, I'm disappointed. You weren't as hard to find as I thought you'd be. Almost takes the fun out of it."

"Out of what? Look mister what's the idea of draggin' me outta my bed an-"

"You better shut yer mouth," the man in black growled through his teeth.

"Oh no, let the man speak, Brother," the man with one eye crooned. "I'm eager to hear what secrets he's been keepin' under his hat."

"I already told ya," the prisoner grunted, struggling against his bonds, "I don't know nothin', ya got the wrong man."

"See, I don't believe ya," the man drawled, giving a nod to his associate who led his horse forward a step, tightening the slack on the rope, "…and as any of my good friends here will tell ya, I can't abide liars. So… that presents us with a bit of a problem, doesn't it?"

The man on the horse panted frantically, his eyes darting between each of the six men like a cornered dog. The group seemed unmoved by his panic, loitering with distinct apathy and boredom as they watched him sweat under duress. They had been witness to such events many times, so many that a condemned man's pleas of terror stirred no sympathy.

"I've got eyes everywhere and they been followin' you for a while. Now, I know you ain't tellin' us all you know. Where is he?"

The man on the horse let out a strained growl as the rope tightened around his throat. "For the last time… I don't know nothin'… 'bout nobody, please let me go!"

The man with one eye smiled, the kind of rotten smile that could prickle the skin and sour milk. The prisoner balked, clearly disturbed and suddenly afraid on a different level, as the realisation dawned on him. He was pleading to soulless eyes that didn't care if he lived or died.

"Look, please, I don't know who you thi-"

"Don't be a fool my friend," the one eyed man said icily. "Make no mistake. We will find him. He can't hide forever. You can make the outcome a little less ugly if you just tell us where."

The rider struggled for breath against the ever tightening coil. He didn't answer, and the man in black moved his horse forward another step, increasing the tension on the rope. The rider gave out a startled grunt, and the man with one eye took a step towards him, the humour now gone from his face. He visibly stiffened, grabbing the rider's leg and spitting his words out like some riled viper.

"I'm runnin' out of patience. Last chance!"

There wasn't much time. The hooded rider mounted quickly.

"I… alr… plghhh…"

"You're a liar, and now you'll pay a liar's price."

Standing up in the stirrups to take one last look, and knowing that before long the men's attention would be drawn, the rider yanked the mount around, stirring up a ghostly haze left hanging under the pale glow of the moon.

With the slap of a rump and a startled whinny, the man on the horse was left hanging too.