Chapter Twenty-four: A Place for Everyone, and Everyone in Their Place...

"The longer I live the less future there is to worry about." ― Ashleigh Brilliant

They gave Cordelia a rather placid bay mare that looked like she was at least part draft horse, and not real fast. Or real active, either. And they tied her hands in front of her, and tied them to the saddle horn of the roper saddle she was sitting, after she'd managed to get herself on board. She made it more difficult to do with her hands tied than it really was, just in case. She wasn't sure anyone was fooled, but, hey – you never knew.

Maybe an hour had passed since Wilkins had ordered Sheridan to get them ready to move. Possibly two. Wilkins wasn't on a horse, naturally. He was seated in a stylish hansom with a pretty bay horse and a driver. Coachman?

Ianara was still a bit unsteady, and someone boosted her up onto the horse behind Cordelia. She held on with her arms around Cordelia's waist, shivering and casting nervous glances at Trick. Ianara could really stand to ride in that buggy, not on horseback, but then again – she'd probably just as soon not sit next to Mayor Psycho Dick.

There was a burst of gunfire off across town a bit, toward the Mission.

No, not toward, Cordelia reminded herself. At the Mission.

"Madre de dios," Ianara said quietly, into Cordelia's ear with her head laid against Cordelia's back.

"It's all right," Cordelia said, doing her best to project all of the certainty that she wasn't feeling... "We'll get out of this. Believe me." She could feel the other girl's head moving, nodding against her back, but she couldn't tell if Ianara believed her or not.

Hell, she couldn't tell if she believed herself.

Sheridan pulled herself easily into the saddle of a nice looking splash buckskin gelding with white stockings, covering Cordelia with the muzzle of a short barreled Winchester carbine – almost as short a barrel as Vin's mare's leg, but with a full length stock.

She had a pair of rifle scabbards like Xander did on her saddle, one holding what looked like some kind of single shot, and made for a scope, and the other jutting up from the front of the saddle and showing the butt of a Winchester '95, also scoped. There was a scabbard and harness rig of some sort over her back, presumably for the extra short carbine. Kind of like the one Bruce Campbell had in that movie Xander liked.

The burst of gunfire was followed by sporadic, scattered shots that died away into silence.

After a brief wait that seemed to drag out much longer than it probably was, a pair of horses cantered into the small stables compound behind the County Building. A middle aged deputy, followed by Dewell McKay on his pretty roan.

McKay's icy blue eyes swept across Cordelia and Ianara with no hint of recognition, and she shivered.

'Very pretty man,' Still Quiet said, 'But he does give one the pure shivers... '

The deputy nodded to Wilkins, and Trask – there was another one made of shiver stuff – looked disinterestedly at McKay and said, "Why are you here, McKay?"

Wilkins looked at him curiously as well, as McKay glanced over with equal disinterest, and said, "Maitland sent me to help escort. I'm not a deputy, and not much of a one for shooting clergy."

Wilkins shrugged, and favored him with one of the meaningless, cheerful smiles.

"I don't recall that we needed your help, McKay," Trick drawled, looking over at him contemptuously.

'Oooh. I wouldn't ever look at that man like that,' Still Quiet said. 'He might take exception. Suddenly and loudly.'

Yup. Cordelia agreed. Not ever.

"Harris, or Dude, or Chance happens across this little procession, and you will," McKay said, smiling lazily. "You're good, Trick, you and Trask. Just not that good."

Trask's eyes narrowed. "And you are?" he said.

McKay smiled again, and rested the butt of that long barreled Winchester '73 against his thigh, pointing up. "Good enough," he said. "And better than most."

Cordelia had a sudden flash of memory of Rory saying that McKay once rode with him, Rand, Linc, Hedges, and John T. Chance in the Badlands, way back when. She shivered again. Rory Harris hardly ever talked about the Dakotas, but from what he had said over the years... it had had its ugly and abrupt points.

'And that was from a man who once rode back into Santa Barbara with seventeen bodies draped over saddles behind him,' Still Quiet said. 'You just have to wonder what was ugly enough that he doesn't talk about it much...'

Cordelia didn't have to wonder, not really. She was suddenly reminded of a leopard she'd once seen at a Safari Park, while with her parents. Draped lazily along a tree limb, relaxed and careless, and watching you with those flat golden eyes that promised that it could go from a dead sprawl to sudden, lethal movement in a heartbeat if it wanted to.

It just didn't happen to want to, right then.

McKay had eyes like that, and that kind of relaxed, lazy indolence...

"Well," Wilkins said, sounding chipper and watching his lieutenants bristle at McKay with something like amusement. "More the merrier. Tell your boss I do appreciate the gesture."

They set off, Sheridan never taking her eyes or her gun muzzle off of Cordelia, Trick falling in behind them.

McKay fell in on their other side, his eyes watchful and ever moving. Cordelia had the distinct impression, after a bit, that those eyes were paying equal attention to the rest of the escort, and measuring and calculating...

But she couldn't be sure, and it wasn't something she wanted to bet on.

After a time of meandering through the back streets, they came upon the wall paralleling the Mission grounds, and then, finally, around to the front. Without incident... and Cordelia wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed by that.

The sound of Xander's long rifle taking people out of saddles would have been awfully welcome.

Stillwell and Maitland left Sheriff Fat Bob arguing with a group of priests, or monks, or whatever, and rode over to meet them. Maitland looked her and Ianara over, and then McKay over, with a peculiar, slight smile, and nodded.

"McKay."

Dewell touched his hat brim with the barrel of the '73, a gesture so much like Xander's that Cordelia's breath caught in her throat.

"Yes," Wilkins said, "Your man was good enough to join us. Thank you for thinking to send him."

"Ah." Maitland nodded, still smiling slightly. "Not a problem. Pleasure was all mine."

"Well," Grinning Dick said, doing just that, "Let's get inside and out of the night air, shall we?" He cut his gaze over to Cordelia and her companion, and added, "Once my people get these two settled, and we're all settled in, we can get down to business and plan our next act."

Someone jerked on the lead rope of the part draft horse, and they rode into and through the Mission gates, past bodies.

And in the company of monsters.

A burst of gunfire came from off across town a bit, toward the Mission, followed by sporadic, scattered shots that died away into silence.

"Wonder what's going on out there," Chollo said. He crossed to the office window, pulling open the little slit cover in the shutter to peer out into the night.

"Wilkins consolidating his ground, no doubt," Chance said.

Stein had left a while ago, through the back, after stating that he had a couple of fellow deputies he was sure of. Maybe three, or possibly as many as four. Deputies that he thought had as many doubts about Wilkins and what Mayor Dick was doing lately as Stein had developed...

Around three hours had passed since Xander's little discussion with Maitland, Wilkins, and Stillwell at the hotel; counting two since his arrival here, according to the clock above the poker table. Couldn't prove it by him. He was pretty sure the clock was broken, despite the concessional movement of the hands. Make it five or six since he and Cordelia had gotten back to town, and things had started to go all to crap on him.

Glenn had done a real nice job with the drilling, his Winchester, and the other guns.

Xander had gone and gotten his concealment rig and shoulder holster from his saddle pack, and was loading and assembling Jack's two pistols in preparation. Preparation for... whatever, and whenever. Whatever else Jack was, he'd had nice guns. One a seven and a half inch barreled target sighted Colt style single action, the other a five inch Colt style, with a bird's head grip, and both with figured walnut grips. Off brand maker, like his Hamilton-Grovers, and much more nicely fitted and finished than one of the Colonel's revolvers. No disparagement to Colt intended. Just... nicer. Made some place down in Texas by an outfit called Lone Star Arms, whoever that was.

The long barreled one fit his shoulder holster, mostly. A bit shorter than his long Grover, but the spring clips held it securely, and enough of the barrel went into the muzzle pouch to hold. The bird's head fit his high ride concealment holster just fine, despite being a half inch shorter than his short Grover.

Heh. Not the first time that Jack had donated a gun to the cause. He remembered his counterpart from here lifting a nice Hamilton-Bowen single-action in .44 S&W Long out of Jack's holster after laying him out cold and thought-to-be-dead in Reverend Doherty's church, way back when... he'd worn and used it all over the Nevada and Arizona territories until he'd acquired the two Hamilton-Grovers from the collection of a bad guy rancher who hadn't needed them any longer.

The Hamilton-Bowen was still tucked away in a saddle-pack, Xander recalled.

And Jack wasn't just 'thought-to-be-dead' this time. Ah, well. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Really.

Xander whistled softly, and tossed Vince his Threepersons holster when he glanced up. "Here you go: beats sticking your new handgun through your belt until you can get yourself one for it. I do want it back."

Vince caught it and smiled slightly. "Well, sure. And much obliged."

Xander nodded, and then looked up sharply as a brief pounding came from the back.

Finney yelled out, "I'll check it."

Chollo called back to him, "I'll check it. You stay watching the front." He shook his head and headed out of office toward the back door.

Dude looked at John T. and raised an eyebrow.

"Well don't look at me," Chance said. "I didn't send out for food this time."

Chollo came back leading a tired and dusty Heidi Barrie. "You didn't. It's for him," he said, jerking his thumb at Xander.

Heidi glared. "Her," she said, "It is a her, Cactus."

"Sorry, ma'am," Chollo said, shaking his head and smiling. "Hard to tell under all that trail grit." He looked to Dude and nodded. "I'll put away her horse and rub it down and feed it."

Xander snorted. "Hell, don't be so hard on him, Didi," he said. "Always thought you were more man than Kyle."

Heidi glared at him in turn and snorted back. "And like that's a hard thing to be?" Pausing a moment, she raised her eyebrows and gave Xander a meaningful look. "Speaking of... ?"

Vince glanced up. "Dead."

Xander nodded. He looked Heidi over. She had on a black shirt, a short, waist length dark brown denim jacket in addition to her brown leather jeans and knee high moccasin style boots, and was wearing a plain, oxblood gunbelt with an ivory gripped Colt and Remington pistol, left and right respectively, low on her hips, in addition to her shoulder rig, in what Xander had always thought of as Patton holsters. With tie-down straps and buckled down, natch. Waist belt full of forty-four forties. And a lot of trail dust, as Chollo had noted. And she looked like she was as close to falling over from exhaustion as you could get, and still not.

"Ok, so, what the hell are you doing here?" Xander said. "You're supposed to be watching the family, and hovering over Tor's sickbed, wench."

"Elli fixed him up and decided it was safe to move him to Cord's in a wagon, if they were careful," Heidi said, shrugging. "And Rory took the women and kids over there also, with enough hands to guard the bank here if they cared to. Or rob it." She paused. "Not needed, so I came down for a piece of Wilkins. And to help Cordy watch your back, Harris." Xander winced.

Chance nodded. "You'll pardon us, Miss Barrie, if we don't trouble ourselves to save you one."

"I'm sure there'll be just an ample supply of targets. Seems to be that kind of town," Heidi said. She paused, then added. "Can I use one of those lovely Winchesters? Pretty please?"

Chance smiled at her, looking bemused. "Why certainly. They are spares. But do treat them kindly, Miss," he said. "They've had a long life, and they've been hard put to on occasion." He motioned to Dude to get her one of the blued large loop '92's from the low rack behind his desk.

"Naw," Kevin said. "Here you go." He tossed her his new rifle, from the Double Eagle shootout. She caught it out of the air and grinned. "Belonged to a fellow who doesn't need it any more, and has only been fired a half a dozen times in anger. On alternate Sundays."

"Sweet rifle," she said. "Doesn't need it any more, huh?"

"He decided to go out of the rifle shooting business," Glenn said, his voice dry. "Permanently."

Heidi grinned at him, and winked. "I'll treat it like something of Tor's that I'm rather partial to."

Xander made a face and said, "Eeew. For Zeus' sake, Heigh-ho, clean it afterward, then."

Dude frowned at him. "I've noticed you swear by a lot of old deities and myths, but very seldom by God. Why is that, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Don't believe in God," Xander said, shrugging. "I was possessed by a hyena avatar once, and a soldier through an act of Janus, and I've seen people call on Hecate and get answered. I know the myths and gods exist. God, I'm not so sure about."

"And his uncle Rory wouldn't let him take the Lord's name in vain when we were kids," Heidi said.

"That, too." Xander winked at her, grinning.

"You don't have a rifle, Barrie?" Vince asked.

"Nah. Not that I can't use one, obviously, but Tor always handled the rifle work," Heidi said. "Never got around to getting one. 'Til now," she added, winking at Glenn.

Xander nodded. "Aside from that old .32-20 Burgess of yours from when we were kids," he said.

"Speaking of, and where is Cordy?" Heidi said, cocking her head at him. "Don't think I didn't catch that wince when I said her name earlier, Xan." She studied at him curiously.

Xander sobered in a hurry, and the grin slid off of his lips like it was on rails. He told her, in short, terse sentences.

"Crap. And I was looking forward to that foursome, too." Heidi's eyes narrowed. "Want me to go scout the County Building and Mayor's place and see if I can turn her up?"

"No." Xander's eyes narrowed back at her. "I want you to find a blanket and some place to curl up in for the next eight to ten hours," he said. "You look like you were ridden hard and put away wet and dusty, not the horse."

"You're the boss, Boss," she said, nodding. Another flurry of shots came from outside and partway across town, and Heidi cocked her head, listening, and frowned. "What's all that shooting going on out there, anyway?"

Glenn shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "Dunno for sure."

Dude glanced at her, "Was kind of hoping you could enlighten us."

"Nope. Heard it while I was sliding through to here, but didn't go and investigate."

Dude nodded, and shrugged as well. "Ah well. Hey, here you go," he said, tossing her a star. She caught it out of the air and looked at him curiously. "Wear that to go with your new rifle."

"Wow." Heidi looked down at the badge, blinked, and then looked back up at Dude with a broad grin. "Never had one of these before. Never thought I'd wear one, either."

"Do try and be careful with it, Barrie," John T. said. "We would purely hate to lose you like we did our last female deputy."

"Yeah." Dude said. "We lose any more, and I'm going to have to rethink this whole feminine employment thing we started."

Xander went with her to find blankets and a bedroll, ostensibly to help her find a place to sack out. While they were digging a spare, clean bedroll and some blankets out of stores, he looked over at her.

"Actually, what I want you to do – after you catch up on your sleep – is to slip out like you did in, and take a message to Uncle Rory for me. On the quiet side, if you would."

She blinked at him, and then nodded, smiling. "Don't think Marshall Dude would approve of you calling in a family feud?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Something like that."

She nodded. "Yeah. And, naw. I know someone I can trust who can slip in and out as well as I can," Heidi said. "Me, I'm gonna stick to your back and make sure it doesn't sprout holes, since Cordy can't."

Xander's eyebrows lifted at her. "Oh? And who might that be?"

"Gunn's daughter, Bianca," Heidi said. "She's almost as quiet as Tor, and she goes in and out of town all the time on the stable's business. No one will think twice."

"Not sure I like the idea of involving a kid."

"Kid, hell," Heidi said, snorting. "She's damned near the same age Cordy was when you two took off for parts unknown. Only a couple years shy of that, anyway."

"All right," Xander said, thinking. "If you're sure Gunn won't object."

"Yup." Heidi nodded. "If you'll hold the back door for me, I'll slide out and in after breakfast and give it to her. Write down what you want Rory to get."

Xander nodded again, his gaze distant. "All right," he said, again. "Then I might have you scout tomorrow night, since you're staying. Deputy."

"Aww."

Heidi paused, looking at him seriously for a long moment. She bit her lower lip, and then said, "I was joking about the foursome thing, right?" Xander nodded, and she added, "But if you want someone to warm your back tonight, Tor would understand."

Xander blinked at her, then smiled slightly and lopsidedly. "No." He reached out a hand and trailed his fingertips along her cheek. "Cordy might understand, too, maybe. But I wouldn't."

Heidi nodded. "You're the boss, Boss. But it would have been fun."

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