"Please, Denis. Just hear me out."

"How many times do I gotta tell you? I don't want no part in the 'family business'. I sell shoes. End of."

"I know, I know. And you can sell as many shoes as you please... But how many shoes does William want to sell, huh?"

"You leave that boy out of this!"

"He's the age I was when Pop gave it to me."

"I ain't saying he's too young, I'm saying he's my boy! You want an heir so bad, go have your own kid. You ain't stealing mine."

"You stubborn idiot, I ain't stealing him! I just wanna talk to him, is all. Let him decide for himself whether he wants to do it. He deserves the option, Denis. He's a natural."

"...He is. It tears me up to admit it, but he really is. No doubt about it. He's a Cooper."


1868, Somewhere in Tennessee

The shoeshop was in town, but only barely. From the front, there was a view of the other small, ramshackle buildings of the settlement. But from the back, the dusty orange plains stretched into the horizon, hardening into dark mountains far, far to the west.

A perfect view for target practice.

A single dingy can sat on the ground. Every day it got a little further away. It had built up quite the distance by now – it stood several meters away, a length roughly three times the width of the house itself.

Standing on the rickety back porch was a raccoon. He was just a kid – it hadn't been long since his eighth birthday. He tossed a small pebble from hand to hand. His lively brown eyes narrowed on the can, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

With a sudden twitch he flung the pebble. The small rock shot through the air and hit the inside lip of the can. The can performed an impressive backflip, kicking up orange dust and clattering back to earth.

The kid jumped, pumping a fist. "Haha! Yeah!"

"My, my... mighty impressive, Billy."

The kid whirled around. Standing on the porch behind him was a raccoon wearing a red scarf and a long, dark coat, tattered with wear but still sturdy. She grinned at him proudly.

The kid's eyes lit up. "Auntie Suzanne! I didn't hear you there!"

She smirked. "Well, I'm always quiet, ain't I?" She hunkered down, spreading her arms. "C'mere, you bandit!"

He leapt in, hugging her tightly. Laughing, she returned the gesture.

After a few moments, he pulled away –with Suzanne's pistol in his small hands. He looked it over with wonder. "Woah! This here's shinier than a lampshade made a' gold! And I bet it packs a punch, too!"

"Hey, now..." Suzanne snatched it out of his grip and slipped it back in her holster. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Billy. You'll get a gun of your own one day, but not when you're just eight years old. Wait 'til you're a more sensible age. Like twelve."

He tossed his head grumpily. After a moment, he blinked. "Wait. Ain't you mad?"

Suzanne settled into a sitting position, her legs crossed. She gave him a gentle smirk. "'Bout what?"

"I... took that from you. Without asking, I mean." He sat too, his eyes on the horizon. "I'm, um, not 'sposed to do that."

"Is that a fact?" drawled Suzanne. "Your dad say that, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." Suzanne's mouth tightened for a moment. Then her smile slid back into place. "He tells me you've been helpin' him with the shop. Growin' boy like you needs to be doin' somethin' with his time. How d'you find the work? You enjoy it?"

"No," he said sullenly, arms folded. "Can't focus on that stuff. I just can't. S'too boring. Can't sit still." He kept his eyes low. "...Pop thinks I'm stupid."

"Does he?" said Suzanne, leaning down. Her tone shifted. "...Does he ever say that to you?"

"Not out loud, but sometimes I feel him thinkin' it."

"I see." A pause. "Well, if your dad ever gives you any trouble, you tell me right away, y'hear?" She brightened. "And I'll come to your house and beat 'im with a stick."

He laughed. "Auntie! You can't do that!"

Suzanne grinned. "I'm his big sister! I can do as I please."

He nodded, his eyes shining. "Heh. I'm pretty sure Pop's scared of you, anyhow."

"For good reason!"

His smile slowly faded. "It'd be real swell if you were 'round more often. If... if you don't mind me asking, where do you go, Auntie? How come you don't live in a town like us?"

Suzanne sighed, settling back slightly. Her dark brown eyes regarded the mountains on the horizon as she spoke. "Well Billy, I don't stay in one place too long. But usually I'm livin' with one of the tribes."

"Out in the wilderness, y'mean?"

"Uh huh." She looked at him. "What d'you know about the tribes, Billy?"

"Not much, Auntie," he said placidly, "mostly on account a' how I dunno much about anything. Oh, they got the bows and arrows, right? They're great! I mean, guns're better, but bows are good too!"

Suzanne laughed. "You got yourself a one-track mind, Billy! Yes, they use bows. Damn fine shots. Learned a lot from 'em, myself." She grew serious. "But life can be real tough out there. They've lost a lot. As a matter of fact, they didn't 'lose' most of it. A lot was taken. Stolen."

"Right..." His ears drooped with sympathy, but then his face hardened. "Wait, wait, wait. Auntie, stop."

She blinked. "Hmm?"

"You're tryin' to make me feel bad, aren'tcha? Pop told you to come out here and give me a talk about how stealing's always wrong." He folded his small arms resolutely. "But I already apologised! He made me! So you don't have come here with some big ol' story 'bout how –"

"Whoa, whoa." She gently held up a hand. "Billy, you lost me. What's this?"

His frown deepened. "I... Couple days ago, Mrs Lamarr – she's the teacher at school – I hate her – she took a book off a' Benjamin – he's a kid in my class – he's nice – 'cause he tried to read it during class. And normally you get stuff like that back at the end of the day, but she read a bit of it and said it wasn't 'appropriate' and wouldn't give it up! He nearly cried! He's nice to me. To everybody! He didn't deserve that."

There was a glint in Suzanne's eye – not that her nephew noticed. "So what did you do?"

"I..." He coughed. "After supper, I snuck out and went into the schoolhouse. It was all locked up, but it wasn't hard to get in. Just climbed up the side and slid down the chimney. Real sooty, but I don't mind getting' dirty. I stole the book and gave it back to Benji."

"Up to the roof, huh? Were you scared?"

"Not hardly!" he declared, pleased with the chance to impress his aunt. "It was easy, all of it. Even the fiddly lock on Mrs Lamarr's desk wasn't any trouble." Arms still folded, he flopped backwards onto his back. "Naw, the only trouble was when she figured out it was me, and told Pop. He was angrier than a... a..." His face scrunched in frustration. "He was real mad!"

Suzanne brought a gloved hand up her mouth to cover her smile. "Well now, Billy. That's quite the story."

He grunted.

"As a matter of fact, your dad didn't send me to talk to you. Actually..." She gave him a full, sly grin. "...he wanted to stop me."

His eyes widened. He sat up, intrigued. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. See, he and I disagree on a few... matters of philosophy. Fr'instance, if you ask me? Stealing isn't always wrong. Not by a long shot. The reason I was telling you about the tribes, and what they lost, is 'cause I was answerin' your question. I spend so long out there 'cause when they lose something important, they ask me to steal it back."

By now he was transfixed. "Steal things... back?"

"That's right. The two finest things in life, Billy, are doin' what you love and helpin' others. The absolute best is doin' both at once. And in this family... with a few occasional exceptions," she added with a wink, gesturing inside the shop, "we're real good at stealing. So we steal things. And we always steal from bad people. It's more of a challenge! Plus, helpin' folks feels tingly."

"Yeah!" He nodded vigorously. "That's why I didn't wanna apologise to Mrs Lamarr, no matter what Pop said. I knew I was right to help Benji. And it was so fun! More exciting than a wheelbarrow ride in a thunderstorm!"

"I'm real glad to hear it, Billy." Suzanne pulled open her coat slightly to access an inner pocket. "Since, as a matter of fact, I have something I wanna give ya."

"Is it a–?"

"No, Billy," said Suzanne firmly, "it ain't a gun."

"Shucks."

"It's something a lot better." She produced it with a dramatic flourish; a book. An old book. Faded and brown, yet possessing a certain rebellious dignity. "Billy, my boy, this here is the most important thing you'll ever own. May I present: the Thievius Raccoonus."

He stared in wonder. He had never held much respect for books, but something about this one was different. He felt it on an almost instinctual level. Maybe it was the obvious reverence his aunt, usually so relaxed, held it with.

To his surprise, she offered it to him. "Go ahead, Billy. Take it. You gotta be real careful with it, y'hear? But it's yours now."

"It's mine? For keeps?"

"'Til the next Cooper needs it," she smiled. "I got it when I was your age. Now I'm passin' it on. You'll do the same, I hope. 'Course, your father didn't want you to even hear about it. He's a stubborn, idiotic wet blanket without the faintest sense of family tradition, bless his heart. But I talked him 'round in the end. It's yours, for the moment."

He opened it, his small and usually frantic hands moving with uncharacteristic care. The paper was old – ancient – yet oddly sturdy. It opened out on a random page, showing a raccoon in a dark hood leaping through the night sky. The kid had never seen buildings remotely like the ones depicted.

"Study it closely," continued Suzanne. "It's got everything you'll ever need. Tricks, techniques, tactics... all of it worth its weight in gold. There's stuff in there I can't even begin to explain. But it works, Billy. You don't gotta understand it to do it. For our family, it goes beyond understanding. It goes deeper. It works for us. It'll work for you too."

He flicked through the book, almost overwhelmed. Pirates, pharoahs, Arabian nights and armoured knights – every kind of heroic figure he had ever heard stories about, and several he hadn't.

"It's a lot of power, honestly," said Suzanne, her tone growing solemn. "We're not like regular folks. The rules don't apply to us, and that can go to your head easy. Real easy." She lay a hand on her nephew's shoulder. "But I trust you, Billy. I already know that you'll use your skills right – and I know you'll make a damn fine thief."

"Auntie Suzanne, this is incredible!" he said. "This thing's got some amazing pictures!"

A slow, sinking feeling came over Suzanne. "Billy, quick question... can you read?"

He beamed brightly, eyes still on the book. "Nope!"

Suzanne smiled too, but it didn't reach her eyes.

This would take longer than she thought.