Chapter Track: "The Arena" – Lindsey Stirling

"You call that shooting, missy?"

Maddie's lip twitched as the old man's raspy voice teased at her ear and prickled her rising anger. "I know what I'm doin', goddamn it!"

"Watch your language, Miss Ross."

She flicked her seething gaze to him. "I know how to shoot!"

"Like hell you do," he shot back. His eyes glinted with a mixture of reminiscence and humor. He sat atop an empty barrel and leaned his back against the white wall of Chuparosa. A cigarette rested gently between his index and middle finger in his left hand; in the other, he held a bottle of tequila. "Hold your gun steady, and bend them knees, girl. You're standing stiffer than a tall hickory on the plains."

With an extravagant sigh and a nasty scowl, she turned and faced him with one hand resting haughtily on her hip and the other gripping the semi-automatic pistol he'd given her. Her long hair swayed lazily in the cool breeze. "For your information, Ricketts my pa showed me how to shoot! Granted, that's the only thing he did right with me but—"

"He failed at that, too, kid," Landon corrected, looking at her with a penetrating stare. He nodded towards the line of empty bottles twenty yards in front of his pupil. "Show me what you've got, and without all that sass."

She rolled her eyes as she turned back to the bottles before her. She brought the pistol back up and looked down the barrel for what seemed like the tenth time that morning. She blinked as she pulled the trigger. The gun kicked back, nearly hitting her forehead and almost knocking off the black Stetson hat Landon had bought her. Just as she predicted, the bottle still stood in one piece, taunting her.

"Hold it steady!" Landon chastised, his rustic voice rising in pitch.

"I AM!" she shrieked, and then proceeded to fire off three rounds at the target. The bottle remained untouched. "SON OF A BITCH!"

"Watch your mouth!"

Maddie tossed her head in defeat and paced back and forth in front of him. Her duster swayed and billowed about with each turn.

Landon cocked an eyebrow at her as she glanced over at him. "You feel better now?"

"No!"

"Then why'd you waste those bullets?"

She glared at him through her long, wind-blown hair tresses.

"Don't you give me that look. Stop getting so worked up, girl. You're letting your—"

"Anger get the best of me, I know!" She flicked her hair back with a jerk of her head and glared at the bottle before her with all the hatred she could project upon an inanimate object.

"Then what's the problem, mi niña?"

She jammed the pistol into the holster that hung at her hip and exhaled greatly. Tears of seething defeat welled in her eyes; she tucked her chin down into her collarbone and hid her face behind her hat. She swallowed hard at the lump in her throat. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." Landon took several thoughtful inhales of his cigarette and studied her slouched stance through the clouds of smoke he released afterwards. "You know what your problem is? You're just like me when I was your age. You're too hot-headed. You've got to get past that if you wanna be any good with a gun. You're over-thinking things when it should all stay simple. Focus, aim, and shoot. That's all there is to it."

She sighed again and stared down at her boots.

"Here," the old man said as he set the bottle down and stood up out of his seat. He trudged up to her and put the cigarette in his mouth as he came to stand behind and slightly off to her right side. "Quit feeling sorry for yourself and lift that chin up. C'mon, bring up that gun."

With lackluster, Maddie drew her gun and held it up.

The grand master clasped his hand over the students' and helped bring up the gun further, correcting her and holding it steady. "Now, when you shoot, don't lock your elbow. You'll wanna have a little give to it, but don't stand there with a limp arm. Be ready for that recoil, or else you're gonna end up knocking yourself out. When you shoot, squeeze the trigger, don't pull it." He took his hand off hers only to place it comfortingly on her shoulder. "And relax. You're tense as hell, you're getting mad, and it's affecting how you shoot." He took a step back and beckoned with a small wave of his hand. "Let me see you put your anger to good use and shoot straight for once. Focus, aim, and shoot. That's all there is to it."

She could feel his eyes on her as she blinked away the tears and looked down the barrel of the pistol. Her index finger hugged the trigger as she aimed at the bottle twenty yards away. She gripped the gun tightly and steadied her aim; she swallowed and blinked in rapid succession. "Para Mamá," she whispered and pulled the trigger.

As if in glorious answer to her heartfelt proclamation, the bottle shattered brilliantly into a thousand shards. She felt Landon's warm, calloused hand on her shoulder.

"Muy bien, mi niña."

For the first time that day, she smiled and felt pride blossom in her chest. The tears dissipated as she aimed her sights on the next bottle in line.

"Steady that arm, Maddie. Keep your back straight. Now, take a deep breath."

She inhaled deeply through her nose.

"Good. Now, squeeze the trigger when you breathe out."

She exhaled as she pulled the trigger. She let out an elated cry as the second bottle shattered like the first.

Landon clapped his hand on her shoulder, jostling her slightly. "There you go, girl! Keep doing that. Move onto the next one."

Just like the first two, the third exploded into tiny shards.

"Yes! That's what I like to see!"

Her confidence grew with every bottle; as she aimed her sights on the last one, she smiled. She inhaled deeply one last time, and as she exhaled, she squeezed the trigger and watched the last bottle explode. Disbelief ebbed through her as she turned and looked back at her teacher.

"You see, mi niña? All it takes is just those simple steps. Focus, aim, and shoot. That's all there is to it."

She was too stunned to respond as she smiled up at him. After just one day of training, progress had been made, and she finally felt at home in her new accoutrements. The duster her teacher had bought her finally felt comfortable to wear, even though it was a little too big and heavy for her petite frame. The Stetson fit her head perfectly, making her less vulnerable to the sun's rays and completing the fierce look she was searching for. The semi-automatic pistol was a far greater firearm than her old revolver—it was more powerful, faster to fire and reload, and held more ammunition. As she holstered her pistol, she looked back at the shattered glass strewn about the crates. She beamed at the glorious mess she'd made.

"I think it's time we celebrated, don't you agree?" Landon suggested as he turned and headed back to his make-shift bar. He sat down on one of the crates and picked up the shot glass. He threw back the tequila without a cough or sputter. As Maddie sat on a crate across from him, he said, "And you thought you couldn't shoot…"

The fifteen-year-old girl scoffed and rolled her eyes, ashamed for having jumped to such conclusions about herself in such a short amount of time. "How soon do you think I'll be ready?"

"For what?"

"To take on outlaws."

Landon chortled and held up a hand. "Hold your horses, Miss Ross. You've got a long way to go before you can even consider doing that. Besides, I'm gonna make certain that never happens to you. There's no sense in looking for trouble when it's damn near everywhere in Mexico. Remember the horse thief last night?"

She nodded as she recalled the downtrodden Mexican man that tried to steal a grey mare from the corral. Were it not for Landon's swift draw, the man would've gotten away. "I should've been the one to do him in," she grumbled.

"Again, don't be in such a hurry to go looking for trouble. I'll be the one taking care for this town, not you."

"But you're just one man, Ricketts. You can't possibly be in two places at the same time. Think about all the crime that happens outside Chuparosa. What about all the outlaws out here?"

He pointed at her with the cigarette. "Don't you be worried about what goes on outside these walls. I don't want to see you taking charge. You leave that up to me, you understand?"

She frowned and furrowed her brow at him.

"Understand?"

"Yeah, I hear ya."

"Good," he said and returned the cigarette to his mouth. He took a long drag as he looked out across the beautiful landscape; he released the smoke as he exhaled, created a billowing white cloud that drifted up from his mustache and over the brim of his grey hat.

Maddie sat watching him, mesmerized. Curiosity beckoned her to pose the question she'd been yearning to ask, but she couldn't find her voice. Frowning, she looked down at her hands as she clasped them together on her lap.

"It's a bad habit to get into, Miss Ross. It's unbecoming for a young lady such as yourself."

She blinked and looked up at him.

"I suppose now you want me to teach you how to smoke, too, huh?"

"I'm… I'm just curious is all…"

He shot her an admonishing look. "Young ladies don't smoke."

"Neither do they know how to shoot a gun."

Her teacher snorted through his nose and smirked down at her. "One thing at a time, Miss Ross."

She pointed at the bottle he held in his hand. "How about some tequila?"

"No. Young ladies—"

"Don't drink, yes, I know. But I'm Maddie Ross, damn it." She beckoned for the bottle. "Now hand it over that bottle, mister."

"The hell I am!" he proclaimed as he held it away from her. "I don't care who you think you are, you're not getting a drink."

She threw him a nasty scowl. "You're an ass, Mister Ricketts."

"And you're a brat, Miss Ross." He nodded to her pistol and suggested, "Why don't you reload your gun, eh? I'll go get some more empty bottles for you: you're gonna need as much practice as you can get if you want to get good."

She rolled her eyes as she removed the empty magazine from the butt of the pistol and reloaded it. Once it was full, she jammed it back into the handle and pulled the toggle up. She looked him square in the eye and stated, "One way or another, I'm gonna find out what it's like."

He scoffed as he stood up out of his seat. "Well see, Miss Ross." He kept the tequila in his right hand so she wouldn't be tempted, turned, and headed into town to the cantina. Two minutes later, he came back with his arms full of empty bottles. He passed his pupil and set them up where the previous ones stood. Once he was done, he turned and headed back to the crates and took a seat. He gestured to the targets with the cigarette.

"Well, what are you waiting for, girl? Get back to it."

She stood up and walked over to her previous spot.

"This time, I want you to practice drawing and firing your gun. We're gonna work on your speed and accuracy and go from there."

An adventurous smile flashed across her face as she looked back at him over her shoulder. "So you're gonna teach me how to duel, huh? Hell, who knows, I could turn out to be faster than you, Ricketts."

"We'll see about that." He nodded to the bottles. "Whenever you're ready."

She turned and faced her targets. Just as before, she breathed in deeply as she narrowed her sights on the first bottle. Her hand hovered over the butt of her pistol.

"Draw!" Landon shouted.

She glanced down to make sure she didn't miss grabbing her gun. Once she had a hold of it, she raised it and fired. The bullet was nowhere near her target.

"Again, Miss Ross. Don't just draw and fire—you gotta have your sights aimed at your target at all times. Let me see you draw a couple times, just to get the feel of it. Don't fire, though."

Grumbling under her breath, she holstered her weapon and stood at the ready, her knees slightly bent and her right hand once again hovered over her gun.

"Draw!"

She fumbled less the second time.

Landon nodded in approval. "Not bad. Still have a lot of work to do, though. Do that five more times. And try to draw faster with each one, alright?"

She nodded. Her brow furrowed as she thought, Come hell or high water, I'm gonna be the best damn lady gunslinger there ever was.

"Draw!"

The second she heard his command, she reached for her gun and threw it up, causing her arm to jerk up more than she intended. Once she got her arm back under control, she pointed her pistol at her target.

"That's a little better, but you almost lost your gun. Keep your arm under control; don't just throw it up, draw it with precision. Make it as smooth of a draw as you can."

Little by little, she improved, though she knew she was nowhere near the level of skill she yearned to be at. Still, she was making progress, and she couldn't have asked for anything more than that for her first day training. By dinnertime, Maddie's right arm was throbbing. Guess nothin' worth having comes easy, she thought as she and Landon walked back into town for afternoon meal and a remedy for her sore arm.

"So, tell me one more time what that means," Maddie said that afternoon as she, Landon, and most of Chuparosa's citizens ate and drank at the cantina.

"'Buenos días' means 'good morning', 'Buenos tardes' means 'good afternoon', and 'buenos noches' means 'good evening' or 'good night'. Now say them back to me."

She somewhat struggled with the pronunciation of the three greetings, but she recited them nonetheless.

"Do you remember how to say your name to someone?"

She paused in enjoying her enchilada to think. "Umm… Me llamo Maddie."

"Bien. What else do you remember from yesterday?"

She wracked her brain, trying to recall all the phrases he taught her the other day.

"Let me ask you this: ¿De donde eres?"

"I-er, I mean… Yo soy de Blackwater."

He nodded in approval. "You have a good memory, señorita. How about this: ¿Como estas?"

"Right now, I'm—damn it, I mean… Muy bien."

"Now you're catching on. The faster you learn all this, the better it'll be for you here in Mexico. There are some here who can speak English, pero, they'd much prefer hablar en Español." He pointed to her with his fork and added, "And you need to work on your accent—you sound too much like a gringa."

Maddie blinked. "A what?"

"It's what the natives call a foreigner. You're culturally unaware, and you're from a different country, mi niña, so most people won't take too kindly to you living here in their country."

She scoffed. "That's stupid."

"Look at it this way: what if they were to come to your country? Would you care if they couldn't speak to you in your language? Would you be accepting of them to come across the border without any idea of how things go there?"

She shrugged. "I suppose not."

"There you go."

"I still don't know why you came down here, of all places. These people think you're a saint, and you're an American. That doesn't make much sense."

"I've been here for quite a while now. It just takes time, Maddie. You'll become acclimated in no time, so long as you keep trying to learn everything there is to know about Mexico and its people."

She sighed. There was so much for her to learn. She poked at her enchilada with her fork. "Es imposible, señor." When he didn't respond, she looked up at him and noticed a proud twinkle in his eyes. "What?"

"You just spoke in Spanish, Maddie," he responded with a wide grin. "Es muy posible, mi niña."

"You still haven't held up your end of the deal, Miss Ross," Landon reminded her the next day. Once again, he was sitting on the crates and watching her target practice outside the walls of Chuparosa. A cigarette sat between his index finger and thumb; it spat up a blue tendril of smoke that swirled and coiled about in the air adjacent to his scruffy old face.

Maddie flicked her long hair over her shoulder as she glanced back at him. Her pistol hovered in the air before her, the barrel smoking: she had just drawn, fired, and decimated a bottle thirty yards in front of her. She cocked an eyebrow at him and asked, "What do you mean, Ricketts?"

"You haven't told me your story," he clarified as he brought the cigarette up to his mouth. His grey eyes sparkled as he flashed his eyebrows at her.

The young girl's countenance darkened. "Like hell I didn't. I already did." She returned her attention back to target practicing.

"Not your whole story, niña," he said before taking a long drag off his cigarette. He let the smoke roll out of his mouth. "Something tells me you kept some things out."

Maddie turned and faced him. "What business is it of yours to know everything about me, Landon? I barely know you, for fuck's sake."

"Language, Miss Ross! Ladies don't cuss."

"Oh, enough with that lady bullshit!" She stormed up to him, her hair and duster billowing angrily behind her, and rested her hands on her hips as she came to stand before him. "I've had it with you tryin' to make me a lady and stickin' your nose in places where it shouldn't! What makes you think you've gotta know everything about me? What makes you think I wanna be like other girls? My father tried pushin' that nonsense on me, and so did my goddamned step-mother, but you know what? I said to hell with that! Like Mama always said, 'Bein' a lady means bein' domesticated'." She pointed vindictively down at him with a visage that could make any man cringe. "Well, I ain't gonna be a domesticated lady, mister, so long as I'm alive and breathin'! I'm not some wild horse you can and expect to break—I don't intend on tamin' so easily, Landon, and you can be damn sure I'll never be! So STOP tryin' to make into a proper lady, and mind your own business!"

Landon sat looking at her for a long, silent minute. A flicker of empathy and admiration appeared in his grey eyes. A corner of his bushy mustache rose and sat crooked atop his mouth as he smirked. "So that's why you left: you didn't want to be in chains, so you broke them and ran."

"You're damn right I did! Mama couldn't escape, but I sure as hell made sure I did."

"I take it your parents' marriage wasn't the greatest."

Maddie scoffed and rolled her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest and scowled off to the side as she answered, "It was a disaster from the beginning. Mama was a mail-order bride from Ireland, and even though she grew to love my pa, she couldn't stand being a housewife in a new country. She missed her home, and her family, but she couldn't go back. So, when she had me, she showed me I could do whatever the hell I want; what she couldn't do, she taught me." For once in her life, she was too angry to cry as she continued, "She died in front of me defending me and the farm from outlaws—the bastards shot her down. Father drowned his sorrows in whiskey after that. I had to take care of him and the farm as well. He got better over time, but then he met…someone else, and became engaged shortly after that." Her upper lip curled in disgust. "I took off on the eve of their wedding, and I haven't looked back since. I've got my own life to live now, and my father's got his."

Landon regarded her with a myriad of emotions and a hard countenance for a long moment before he leaned forward in his seat and pointed at her with his cigarette. "Let's get one thing straight, little miss: I'm not here to insult you or get you all hot and bothered. You're right: it's not my business getting into yours. But you know what? You don't have anyone around you to tell you what's right or wrong; you've got no one to give you a good sense of direction in your life. I think it's very important for you to have that, especially at your age. The reason why I'm telling you to watch your language and remind you to have some sort of manners and decency is because I believe you should still have those values even if you're a runaway. Whether you like it or not, I'm trying to keep you straight—you're right at the precipice, girl, and if I let you go off on your own all hot-headed and disrespectful and down-right ignorant, you'll be dead in a day."

"Bullshit," Maddie spat as she looked back at him. "I don't need another man tellin' me what I can or can't do."

"Watch what you say to me, Maddie. I may not be your father, but I can sure as hell enforce some discipline on you. Have respect for your elders, kid, or else I'll teach you to have some respect."

Maddie stared at the ground between her and Landon's boots.

"Look, kid, I understand you want to be a strong, independent gal, but the way you're going about it will get you killed. Though I don't outright want to, I am teaching you how to be as great of a gunslinger as you so desire. But you must understand something, Miss Ross: if you don't respect me and trust me, then you're not gonna get anywhere. So, if I ask you to tell me your whole story, you better damn well tell me the whole story. If I ask you to your pistol and fire at a target, you raise your pistol and fire at a target. If I ask you to do anything, you'd better do it, by God. So, do we have an understanding?"

She nodded curtly.

"Good." He gestured to the row of bottles behind her with a nod. "Now get back to it. I want to see some improvement today, understand? I want to see you draw faster and aim better."

The insults sat brewing and burning in her esophagus, but she dared not open her mouth and let them escape. Instead, she turned her attention back to the next bottle in line. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and as she exhaled through her mouth, she drew, aimed, and fired. The bottle exploded.

Behind her, Landon said softly, "Very good, niña. That's a start."