"What's your play?" said Rane.

Dutch was staring out onto the grounds beyond. Arthur was watching Rane, his gaze so full of unspoken communication that he could have been shouting with his eyes. He was full of the same trepidation she was after seeing that woman back there murdered, and like her, he was just as unable to speak it aloud. Dutch scoffed, turning away, pulling his gun. Below them, Javier was visible in the dust, being dragged by the leg behind a burro, shouting in Spanish, his face bloodied and filthy. His captors were surrounding him, easily twenty strong, all armed with big irons. Presently they tossed him into a cell on the steps of the building, quite unceremonious, shutting the door behind him and laughing raucously, audible even up here. The sun was high and hot in the sky now, the wind sharp and fierce and redolent of saltwater.

"More like what's your play, my dear girl," said Dutch.

" My play?" Rane looked at him in surprise, breaking from Arthur's gaze.

"Yeah, yours. Make yourself useful and go knock them boys down."

"By myself, you mean?"

Dutch nodded, his face quite impassive, looking down toward Javier. "That's just what I mean."

Rane mouthed for a moment, silent, a little astounded.

"Dutch, there's a dozen of them just from what we can see from up here, you expect me to just go down there and -?"

"Well the way John tells it you took down that many once already and made it out okay," said Dutch, quite composed. "We had our little talk earlier, Rane Roth, about you doin' as I say. So you do as I say now, like I asked."

Arthur scoffed loudly, giving him an alarmed look.

"Dutch, that's - we can't let her go down there and -"

"Sure we can." Dutch eyed him, his gaze grim and forbidding. "Or maybe you need remindin' who's in charge same as she did?"

" Dutch !" Arthur glared at him, his eyes slightly desperate. "You're liable to get her and Javier killed if you -!"

"Never mind." Rane was drawing her sword and her wand, giving Arthur a warning look. "It's fine, I'll go do it." Then, when he continued to stare at her, breathing roughly, his face pained, she shook her head. "I've dealt with worse odds than this, Arthur, it's fine. Just cover me, both you guys."

"What are you gonna do?" Arthur asked sharply.

"I'm gonna curse them or put this piece of metal through them, whichever comes first," said Rane shortly, setting her shoulders and moving forward. "You guys stay back 'til the fighting starts, please."

"Rane, no, don't -!" Arthur sighed roughly, exasperated. "Don't do this, goddammit -!"

"Hey." Rane spread her hands expansively, smirking at him. "I'm fine. I always am. Just do what Dutch says, right? Isn't that what I'm 'spose to do?"

Dutch cast her a rather cool glance at this, gesturing with his gun. "Go on, girl, quit mouthin' off."

Rane did at once without another word, vanishing down the stairs in a whirl of dark hair. Arthur looked over at Dutch, his eyes furious beneath his tousled hair.

"Dutch, you're gonna get that girl killed dead you keep it up -!"

"Yeah, well, that's how it works in this family," said Dutch, returning his gaze, his eyes glimmering with something almost like malice. "We all gotta risk our hides once in a while, your girl included."

"There's a dozen goddamned -!" Arthur stopped, checking his volume, shaking his head, and continued, his voice lower. "There's a dozen goddamned men armed with semi-automatic weapons down there, Dutch, you sendin' in a young girl to -?"

"Yes, I am, Arthur." Dutch waved a dismissive hand at him, his eyes on Rane's lean form, striding down the stairs and crouching before the stone fence that surrounded the bastille they'd come upon, her long hair whipping around her head and her sword glinting at her side. She was already small below them. "Shut up, now, I wanna watch her work."

"Wanna watch her die, more like."

"Quit it, she's gonna be fine."

Arthur fell silent, following his gaze, but his heart was thumping madly beneath his shirt as his eyes followed her and his breath was quick and harsh. Dutch glanced over at him shrewdly.

"Quit panickin', Arthur. You're jumpier than a damn hen in a foxhouse."

"I'm fine," said Arthur, low, tracking Rane's form below with sharp eyes, frowning. "And ain't no such thing as a foxhouse where I come from, Dutch, so that don't even make no sense."

Dutch laughed.

"She's fine, you got more spine than all that." He gestured. "Look, now, she sure as hell has. Girl ain't afraid of jack shit. Except heights, I guess."

Rane had reached a small extension of the camp, something like a blacksmith, and there were two men inside, both clad in blue chambray shirts, turned away from her, clearly quite unaware of her presence. Dutch and Arthur leaned forward, watching her, as she crept up on them, slow and low, her motions relaxed and predatory, wand held before her and head wavering lazily back and forth like a viper as she watched them. Even from such a height, Arthur felt a jolt of anxiety at the set of her body. She was goddamned scary.

"Christ, she moves like a damn coyote or somethin'," Dutch remarked, low. "Just look at her. Slices through the grass like an animal or some goddamned thing."

"I was thinkin' of a cat, actually," Arthur replied, matching his tone, one hand grasping the stone wall. Dutch exhaled gently, shrugging.

"Yeah, maybe a cat's better." He shook his head. "Arthur, I think fearin' for that girl's life is a fool's game."

"Yeah, well you didn't have to test it, Dutch, nonetheless," Arthur snapped, glaring at him.

There was a flash of red light below them and both the men fell down into the dirt, motionless. Rane knelt before them, seeming to touch their throats with one hand, her long hair still blowing behind her, then straightened, looking ahead.

"She's checkin' to make sure they ain't dead," Dutch remarked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, she don't seem to like killin' much, even with how good she is at it," Arthur replied, low.

"Hush, now, she's comin' up on Javier."

Dutch was watching Rane with sharp interest, and Arthur had a moment, glancing alongside him, to feel a rather cold and uncharacteristic resentment for him. He was watching the woman Arthur loved risk her goddamned life with impunity, and he was doing it the same way a scientist would watch an amoeba squirming beneath a microscope.

"You sure are bein' strange, Dutch, and I don't care much for any of this shit."

"Yeah, well, it ain't my job to make you care for the shit I do," Dutch replied, rough, not meeting his eyes. "Hush, I said."

Arthur did, breathing hard, his eyes on Rane's form far below. She'd crept up on the men who'd dragged Javier to his little cage. There were many of them, all armed, and Arthur leaned forward, his eyes following her, pulling his revolver and holding it at his side. Dutch glanced at him, grim.

"Arthur, I can damn near hear your heart pounding all the way over here, you got the look of a man who's about to try somethin' stupid. Will you calm the fuck down, please?"

"I'm fine," said Arthur again, but Dutch was right, his heart was hammering beneath his shirt almost hard enough to hurt. "I just don't wanna see her cut down, is all."

"She won't be." Dutch gestured. "Look. What'd I say."

Arthur turned his gaze back to the grounds below, his breath rough and harsh. Rane had made herself known in the middle of the group of men, striding out of hiding with both hands extended palms-out. The sounds of voices, faint, came to them. It didn't take long for Javier's captors to decide they didn't care for this stranger, and presently they began firing and shouting, the rapid patter of the semi-auto rounds sharp and echoing. Arthur jerked, his brow furrowed, beginning to take aim, but Dutch grasped him by the arm and yanked him back roughly.

"Wait," he said. "Give her a second before you give us away."

Rane's hands had been extended when she strode into their midst, moving slowly, but when the bullets began to fly her sword was in her hand in an instant, flying madly. The shine of their rounds soaring away from her was sharp in the sunlight, striking the building and sending up little clouds of dust. And now her sword had gone to her left hand and her wand to her right, and there were streaks of light flying from its tip, striking her attackers. They were falling like flies before her, and she was advancing with that same lazy ease Arthur had seen at Shady Belle, her sword twirling about her wrist. It was no contest, even outnumbered.

"Christ." Dutch was shaking his head, low, grinning, his voice a touch deferential. "Would you look at that, Arthur? Would you just look at that ?"

"Yeah, I see it," Arthur replied, his voice soft. "Now let's go down there and -"

"Hang on, hang on, look at this," said Dutch, pointing with his pistol and sounding delighted. "No damn need, she's got em down to the wire."

Arthur did, reluctantly. Rane had finally cornered the three men surrounding Javier's cell. They were all aiming at her, shouting and jerking their weapons, but Rane was advancing, her sword lowered, clearly talking to them, perhaps offering them quarter. It must not have worked, because a second later the whole trio opened fire, the pattering of their bullets distant as rainfall from their height, and Rane's sword flew, not just deflecting now but aiming their fire back at them, just like she'd done in the bank in Saint Denis. It took the space of five seconds and all three were down, two of them still and one struggling. Arthur watched as Rane approached the remaining man, who'd been winged and was writhing on the ground, attempting to crawl away, the shine of his blood visible even from such a height. Rane drew near him slowly, her sword loose in her hand, speaking to him again. Then, in a swift, vicious motion, Rane lifted her sword a final time, whirled it around her wrist once, and then plunged it down into the left side of his chest. He jolted once more and fell still, arms falling lax, and Rane turned her face up toward the citadel, waving with her free hand, then wiped her bloody sword off in a bunch of her shirt and sheathed it.

Dutch laughed delightedly, slapping his knee and moving out of cover, grabbing Arthur's arm. "Come on, my boy. Don't I see why you like her. Don't I ever."