Stress.

Loretta cracked open her fourth Budweiser bottle as she flipped through the TV channels with a thumb pressing intensity that could only be described as violent. Whenever the current channel started to drag, she took it personally, immediately and angrily changing it in hopes for something more entertaining to escape into.

She blamed how poorly she was handling the stress on the fact that the last few years had been so... unchallenging. The ship had been sailing smoothly for so long that it'd been a while since Loretta had felt anxious. She was the sole proprietor of a weed empire in Harlan, her gracious but firm reputation with most of the county folk allowing her to plant her crops over almost any property that was willing to share their fertile grounds. She'd amassed a loyal group of muscles and gun thugs to help her with any complicated matters. Her outreach was even starting to seep into neighboring counties. Things were going well.

At least, they were.

Until recently.

She scratched her jean pant leg as she peered around at the spaciousness of her home, which felt more empty with every passing day. Bringing the occasional boy or girl home for some fun was only ever a temporary fix to the loneliness that came with her estate. Loretta wasn't complaining, she usually enjoyed the serenity that came with being alone in such a sizable house. It meant that she could have everything the way she liked it, and no one to have to worry about.

Now, though, she was starting to feel the downside of isolation. Being left alone with nothing but her own thoughts was just worsening her anxiety. She figured she should invest in a cat or something similar. Probably not a cat, more like a dog, a big scary one. Something to complement the whole Pot Queen thing. Loretta took another swig of her beer. Something to distract her would be nice.

Loretta had spent a couple of days earlier in the week negotiating the rights to buy some ripe properties just outside of Harlan. The usual deal was discussed, they gave her control of their land in exchange for a small cut of the profits that would be gained from that very land. She thought she was pretty close to finalizing that deal, until one of the property owners informed her that they'd chosen a counter-bid, one that came from a local casino. Naturally, Loretta was confused why a casino would be interested in some ranches, so she tried outbidding them and got a little flustered and picked a bone with those involved. Because life had been too easy, she later learned that the casino happened to be controlled by the Dixie Mafia, who didn't appreciate that she was "violating their turf" by aggressively attempting to put some seed down in Bell County. They informed her before she rode off that they would respond by "violating her."

She'd lived in Harlan for 21 years and was thriving. If fooling around in Bell fucking County was going to get her killed, she would be absolutely furious.

She'd posted her men at various checkpoints around the town, keeping lookouts and establishing a presence. She also had some muscle posted outside her door. You could never be too careful. She wasn't sure what was going to happen, or how they'd try to respond. All she knew was that the Dixie Mafia was brutal and relentless.

She had spent most of her time pacing and strategizing around her house, but now she was just cursing at herself as she perused through the best entertainment Harlan cable could offer. This is what happens when you get complacent, when you stop being harsh. She was starting to look weak, she thought, and she was going to have to flex her power soon so something like this wouldn't happen again.

Blaming herself for everything wasn't going to fan the flames of her anxiety. She could hardly blame any single thing for this, either. Her ambition was more at fault than her complacency, if she had to start moping on a specific trait. But moping wouldn't help either, she needed solutions. She had a decent enough relationship with Chief Deputy Brooks, and maybe she could work something out on that end, but she wasn't about to go running to law enforcement for solutions to her own problems. She wasn't a rat. There were some other clans that she could potentially strike a deal with for some extra protection, but she'd strong-armed most of them out of the weed business, so they weren't much on speaking terms. Her options were limited.

Escapism was definitely not going to help with the reality of her overwhelming situation, but alcohol was the only thing making sense to her at the moment. She was walking over to the fridge to ante up again when she heard a knock on the door.

Loretta froze up for the briefest of moments, before scurrying over to the dresser and pulling a revolver out of the drawer. She stuffed it into her waistband and pulled her flannel over it, concealing her firearm in case the element of surprise would end up being a necessary tactic. "Mason!" She called to her very overqualified doorman, deepening her voice to edge out the embarrassingly audible tremble that was creeping into her tone. "Mason, what's going on?"

"It's me, kid," an old but familiar voice called from the other side of the door.

It wasn't Mason, but it wasn't trouble, either. It was just Raylan. Loretta relaxed.

Wait, Raylan?

She swung the door open. "Ra- Marshal?"

"Loretta." Always sounding smooth and calm, even when this was their first time seeing each other in three years.

Loretta peaked her paranoid little head around the door to check and see if he had brought any company, or if anyone was watching them. The only other person in sight was Mason, who was standing like an awkward manchild at the foot of the steps. Apparently he was a severely underqualified doorman. "Mason, what the shit? You just let anyone knock on the door without telling me?"

"But boss, that's Raylan Givens! The Clint Eastwood of Harlan!" Mason gestured at the lawman like he was the second coming of Christ.

Raylan attempted a nonchalant shrug, but it didn't mesh with his beaming smile. "Y'know, I've always thought of myself as more of a John Wayne type."

"Man. Raylan Givens. Wait till my brother hears about this. He talks about you all the time. He's a policeman, see. Wants to be like you. He'd always go on about, 'that Raylan Givens, he took down the Bennetts, the Crowes, the Crowd-'"

"Why you tryin' to get in bed with him? The hell do I pay you for?" Loretta cut him off, unamused. Mason shut his mouth. The answer was that she was paying him to stop, frisk, and suppress any trespassers, not gawk at them. Y'know, be a guard. She would reprimand him later.

"Sorry, boss."

She could see that Raylan was clearly eating this whole thing up, so she had simply no choice but to separate the two. "Come in," she nodded to Raylan, walking back towards her kitchen. "Shut the door behind you."

"Tell me more about it later," Raylan whispered to Mason jokingly before obliging Loretta. "I didn't know you were hiring fanboys for muscle work," Raylan said as he closed the door behind him, looming like a flag pole in front of the frame.

"Very funny," Loretta rolled her eyes. "If it makes you feel any better, the only ones singin' songs about you 'round here are the thick-headed coppers. The rest of us have mostly forgotten about you."

"Y'know, that actually makes me feel a lot better," half of Raylan's lips curved into a devilish smile. "I like being in the room when people are talkin' sweet about me." He looked around the abode, examining her new house. "Place ain't bad."

"'Preciate that," Loretta turned to take a good look at him. He hadn't changed too much. He'd gotten a new cowboy hat, because of course he did. He somehow looked younger, too, because of course he did. Those Miami beaches must have been like a natural de-aging cream, and being far away from all the family trauma and blood vendettas that swirled around him in Harlan certainly couldn't hurt. The most significant difference was that he was wearing a UK shirt, which suggested that he wasn't here on any work-related grounds. He didn't even have his gun on him, either, which was even more jarring. But something about it gave her a little peace.

She wasn't sure why she'd let him in so fast without at least having him explain why he'd come all the way back to his hometown - and to her doorstep, more specifically. Once she noticed that her heart wasn't racing anymore, though, her decision seemed more strategic than spontaneous.

She still wasn't going to let him know that, though.

"I have to admit I'm taken aback by your visit, Marshal. Frankly, I didn't think you'd ever come back to Harlan."

"I'm good, thanks for asking." He muttered, still surveying the place, apparently enraptured in admiration. She wasn't sure if he was mocking her curtness or if he genuinely hadn't listened to what she'd said.

She sighed and strode to the fridge, slowly removing the handgun from her waistband and placing it in a drawer. She hadn't seen this man in three years and he was acting too comfortable, even for himself. It was like he thought she owed him or something. She was probably overthinking it. This stress was seeping into everything. "Would you like something to drink? We got Budweiser."

"I'm alright, thanks. I'm on the way to the station after this."

"Whiskey, then?"

Raylan laughed. "That's a good one, Loretta."

She suppressed a smile. "Seriously though, am I missin' something? What brought you back? Did Boyd get out again?"

"He certainly has not," Raylan laughed again, scratching his chest as he spoke. "Trust me, I haven't been itching to get back to this place. Frankly, it's tearing me up being away from my little girl right now," Loretta blinked twice, silently remembering that Raylan had a baby a few years back. "I had some things to take care of, some people I needed to see. Decided I'd stop in and check on you."

Loretta returned from the fridge to sit on her couch, prompting Raylan to finally sit down in the reclinable chair across the rug. He placed his hat on his lap.

"Daughter, huh? She must be givin' ya fits." Loretta paused to take a gulp of her beer. "Didn't peg you as one for fatherhood, honestly."

"Really?" Raylan asked curiously, humor never seeming to dissipate. "'Cuz I seem to recall you singing a different tune when you were sittin' behind bars all those years ago. I remember gettin' a whole earful from a state officer about how you wouldn't stop yelling about how I was like your step-father and you just had to see me," Raylan grinned. "Do I got that right?"

"Look at you, walking down memory lane." Loretta crossed her arms. "I woulda said whatever I had to say to get me outta there. Ain't nothing wrong with taking advantage of friends in high places."

"Friends?" Raylan stopped her, teasingly. "It's a step down from step-father, but I'll take it."

"It's called a figure of speech, Marshal. I'm sure you're familiar." Loretta countered dryly. She would never admit that she'd missed Raylan's quick wit. "Besides, it worked, if I remember. You came runnin'."

Raylan chuckled. "Guess it did."

"Hope the little girl hasn't been causing you too much trouble."

"You have no idea. She's lost without me though, bless her heart. I'll be back to save her from mommy by tomorrow night."

"How adorable," Loretta puffed out her lip humorously, but part of her meant it. It actually was kinda adorable. "I'm glad it's temporary - your return here. For your own sake. Can't imagine preferrin' our snake-wrangling churches and coal mines to your pretty palm trees and dolphins."

"I cannot either," Raylan admitted. "Won me some money the other night, too."

"Pardon me?"

"The Dolphins. That's the ol' ball team down in Miami."

Loretta raised her eyebrows. "You gamblin', Marshal?" She leaned in a little, lowering her voice to feign distaste, "See, I don't know if it's proper for a lawman to be boastin' about such amoral means of gain to someone like myself."

"'Someone like yourself?' Funny, because I was just thinking: 'who better to talk to about amoral means of gain with?'" Raylan huffed playfully. "I was actually hoping it'd give us a little common ground. So from one kingpin to another, how is the weed growin' going?"

Loretta arched an eyebrow, starting to get more quizzical about Raylan's intent. The idea that the Harlan marshals wouldn't have been keeping Raylan up to date on the exponential growth of a drug empire in the county was also fishy to Loretta, but she assumed that he was trying to get at something. She'd entertain him for now. "Last I checked marijuana interdiction wasn't under your purview, Marshal."

"Come on, Loretta. Even when I was on the job here I wasn't stepping on your tail. Plus," he pointed cartoonishly to his casual attire, "I'm on vacation."

"Uhuh," Loretta's fingers clicked at the neck of her bottle. "Been real profitable. Just harvested some nice black-gold from the Hendersons' old house. Just this past week, actually. I'm doing real well."

"That's great. Anything else happen this week by any chance?"

It was so clear when Raylan was trying to make a point. Does he know about the Dixie Mafia? How?

"Like what, Marshal?"

"I don't know. I'm not - just... anything else interesting?"

"Can you just shoot where you're aimin' already?" Loretta groaned. "It strikes me as awfully ironic that you of all people are struggling with that."

"Come again?"

"I'm just surprised that Marshal Quickdraw seems to be havin' a bit of trouble hittin' the target," a wry smile tugged on the side of her lip, a common Loretta-ism that Raylan would never admit actually sorta amused him. "Though I guess it tracks. Your propensity for gunslinging must have declined after Markham's errand boy damn near took your head off." Loretta decided that walking down memory lane was helping to clear her mind.

Raylan chuckled and adjusted his new hat, hand instinctually going to the place where Boon's bullet passed through in the old one. "That's funny. Remind me how the other guy is doin' again? It's all a little fuzzy to me."

Loretta snorted. "He's decomposing," she looked at her shoes for a few seconds, before continuing in a quieter tone, "Which I do appreciate, Raylan."

Raylan nodded, sitting with that. He mentally noted her use of his name as opposed to her usual formal-yet-condescending use of his title. "He had it comin'. I'm just glad I got to do it because I know you would've had him strangled eventually and that would've been a mess."

She tilted her head, acknowledging his assessment. "Well, thanks for making things easier for me."

He flashed her a smile. "It was in my job description by that point."

Loretta chuckled, and the two didn't say anything for some time after that. Raylan was just happy to see that Loretta was giving him the time of day. When he'd first met her, she was lonely and vulnerable, wearing her heart on her sleeve. A fourteen year-old kid who'd just lost her father and only living parent to murder, and then was essentially adopted by the woman who had murdered him. Her world had been flipped upside down and turned inside out. These days, accessing any of the warmth buried under her cold, steely exterior was a rare victory. Knowing that it was still there brought Raylan some comfort.

The marshal tapped his boot against the floor melodically for a bit, seemingly rewinding the conversation in his head. "Wait. 'Decomposing?' Look at you go. When'd you learn about that? You go back to school?"

Loretta made a face of disgust, and Raylan silently cursed himself for broaching the subject. "Marshal, you know damn well I ain't wastin' none of my time at some backwards institution. If you came here to preach about the wonders of education -"

"I didn't, I didn't," Raylan interjected before she could get carried away with her anger. He raised a hand in honesty, like he was swearing on a Bible. "I promise."

"Good."

"I just think it'd do you some good if you enrolled in-"

"God damn it! What did I just say? I'm not a kid, you don't get to talk to me like that."

"I can't help but worry about you," Raylan responded with earnest. "I didn't like school myself, but it was really the best thing for me."

"Putting me in a foster home was supposed to be the "best thing" for me too. Look how that went!" Loretta exclaimed.

"Loretta - life has been sucky, for you especially, I get it - I'm just... I'm trying to say," Raylan adjusted the way he was sitting so he could buy some time to come up with words. "Damn chair," he remarked before continuing, "I've seen drug lords in Harlan come and go in a flash. It's a dangerous game. I don't want you getting swallowed up by it because you've got this ridiculous chip on your shoulder." Raylan's voice kept a level, caring tone, even if some of his attitude was shining through.

"I'm different than them."

"How?"

"Lots of reasons."

"Because you're Loretta McCready, the badass who has got it all figured out. Is that it?"

"Because I ain't stupid," she spat. "And you sure as hell ain't my daddy. As a matter of fact, you didn't even know my daddy. So quit trying to act like it. To be plain with you, Marshal, I'm outright perturbed by the fact that some lawman - who I haven't seen in years - is in my home trying to give me some life advice." Loretta was genuinely angry. His presence had brought her some brief peace but now he was just getting her riled up. "Tell me why you're actually here."

Raylan set his jaw, nearly finding himself getting angry about her attitude. But why would he? He had no right. He was a guest here, an admittedly rude one, and besides, he had been called much worse and shrugged it off. But something about the venom in Loretta's voice, in her dismissal of him as just "some lawman", stung a bit deeper than the other barbs he was used to hearing. Maybe it was arrogant of him to assume they would still have some semblance of a bond after all these years. Or maybe he had to stop treating her like a kid he was supposed to look after.

Loretta's eyes darted up and down the silver-tongued cowboy's uncharacteristically uneasy figure, waiting patiently for the usual quip or piece of wisdom. It wasn't coming. For once, he didn't seem to have anything to say. She shook her head in shock. "I've been growing my weed business for years and you think some special visit from the 'Ol Marshal is going to make me magically change my entire life? What kinda gall does it take to waste your triumphant return home pissing me off?"

Raylan stood up, figuring he should try to just get to the point before she kicked him out. "Fine, I'll give it to ya straight. I got a call from Bob the other day - he actually tries to call me once a week to update me on the going-ons, I usually let him go to voicemail, but since I was visiting this week I figured I'd pick up - he mentioned that you might be in some trouble with the wrong folks."

"How the hell would Bob know that?"

"Bob knows lots of things. He's a constable," Raylan said matter-of-factly, like constables were every town's guardian of knowledge.

"Maybe he was makin' shit up."

"You think Bob would lie to me?"

"I don't know, ya think I talk to Bob?" Loretta rubbed her temples. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Everything is - it's dandy."

Raylan sighed. "Look. I know you tried shaking down some trees that you shouldn't have. And I ain't gonna force ya to stop growin' weed. I don't have the right to tell you otherwise - and I'm sorry for comin' in here and thinking that I did. But that doesn't mean I don't wanna help you."

"Awful lot of assumin' you're doing," Loretta muttered. Her deflection tactics weren't as confident anymore, Raylan could tell.

"It's okay to have help, Loretta." Raylan said, a kinder tone that was lacking in any of the wise-old-man condescension that'd been hanging around in his voice earlier. "Everyone needs help."

Loretta pursed her lips, considering that. It was ridiculous that it needed to be said. She knew that, didn't she? She didn't need anyone to tell her that needing someone was okay.

She hoped that wasn't a paradox.

"I... know that."

"Then let me help you."

This was all a little too fast to process. She'd imagined how their first conversation upon his return would go a couple of times in the past. He would be all know-it-all and morally preachy, but he'd be shocked and impressed by her accomplishments and realize he didn't need to do that anymore. He wouldn't see the scared little girl that needed saving. Sure, he'd seen some of her growth just before he left, but in the last three years she'd built something incredible. Something he wouldn't be able to ignore. But for those three whole years, she didn't hear a peep from him. The imaginations remained imagined. Whether she should be upset about that, she wasn't sure. She couldn't hold a grudge against a man for being busy raising a baby, and it wasn't like she'd been dying to hear from him, either.

Still, resentment lingered. And it was manifesting itself into Loretta's spite. No, it wasn't because he left Harlan for Miami, or because he hadn't fulfilled some revisionist requirement of keeping in touch with her. Resentment lingered because this reunion was bringing her anger instead of catharsis. Seeing him now after all these years was supposed to make her feel grown. He was supposed to know she was grown. See the woman she'd became with his own eyes. Instead, he seemed unimpressed. He brushed right through her armed guard unimpressed, waltzed into her house unimpressed, and now he was just wondering how much trouble she was in as if nothing had changed in the last seven years. Acting like her parent.

Maybe if she didn't have so much going on, it would've went smoother. Maybe she'd be glowing instead of verbally sparring in her living room with a ghost from her innocence. A ghost whose approval meant more to her than she could ever admit.

His timing always did suck. So people have told her, anyway.

"I could probably use some help, Raylan. It's the Dixie Mafia. I might've pissed them off. A lot."

Raylan nodded. "Been down that road myself. They ain't nice."

"It wasn't my fault, Raylan, I swear." She sighed. "I ain't stupid."

"You're not. You're the smartest girl I ever met, Loretta."

Loretta blanched. "Don't blow smoke up my ass because you're feelin' bad for me now, Raylan."

"I mean it." Raylan put his hands on his hips. "It's kinda terrifying, actually. Makes me scared about Willa growing up."

Loretta snorted in laughter. For all his faults, he cared. She couldn't hold that against him. "Well, I wish these Bell shit-kickers felt the same terror."

"Those folks don't feel much of anything," Raylan added. "But I can get 'em to feel somethin'."

Loretta raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna make some calls."

"Raylan, stop. You're on vacation."

"Paid leave, actually." He shrugged. "It'll make me feel better if I smatter some good deeds in. It's no trouble, either, this actually works out."

Loretta sat back in her chair, an aura of calmness starting to seep in. "Do elaborate."

"Tim and Rachel told me last week that they were following threads on an oxy circle involving the Dixie Mafia and some of their casinos," Loretta's eyes lit up as Raylan continued, "they're close to having some strong CI evidence. They were expecting to make a play at the end of the month but I could try and help accelerate that. If things go right, by tomorrow the Dixies will be feelin' so much federal pressure that you'll be the least of their worries."

"You can arrange that?"

"It ain't so much me arrangin' as it is me nudgin' and makin' some calls, but yeah. They'll be out of your hair before they even get a chance to get in it."

Loretta quietly let that marinate. This was amazing, but it felt way too easy. "You settin' me up or somethin'?"

Raylan was almost hurt for a moment, but he laughed instead. "We need to work on the trust thing with you, too."

Maybe it was that easy. This whole "letting people who care help you" thing was pretty cool, she thought. "Guess we do." Loretta took a breath, before rising out of her chair. It hadn't gone the way she imagined it, but instead perhaps the way it had to. Which was nice. "Well... thank you, Raylan." She extended her hand, holding it out for Raylan to shake.

Raylan stared at it for the briefest of moments before he extended his own and shook it. He checked his phone. "I only had time for a quick chat, I gotta get goin'. It was nice seein' ya, Loretta. Be safe. Try not to take over the world." Raylan caught another genuine smile from Loretta as he turned to walk away.

"Wait, Raylan!" Loretta called after him before he could walk out the door.

"Hmm?"

"Lemme see your phone."

"Sure." Raylan, having just spoken on the importance of trust, tossed his phone to her without much hesitation. Loretta's thumbs went to work on the keypad for a quick ten seconds, and she walked it back to him. "Here," she handed him his phone, showing him her name and phone number now in his contact list. "Seven years ago, when my life was hell, you gave me a phone with your number in it and told me to call you whenever I needed to." Loretta bit on her lower lip, preventing any emotion from entering her tone. "Now I'm putting mine in yours. So there ain't no excuse for not sayin' hi to me when you're back in Miami anymore."

Raylan looked at his phone screen, then back at her. He wasn't one to allow himself to get too sentimental. So he wouldn't. "Thanks." He nodded and slipped the phone into his pocket. "I'll be checkin' in on ya." He swiveled around and headed out the door before it got too dusty in there.

"Talk to ya later, Raylan." The door closed.

xxxx

One Week Later

"Hello?"

"Hey, Loretta."

"Raylan." Loretta instantly found that talking on the phone had its advantages. She didn't have to bother suppressing any smiles if no one else was in the room to see them. "It's only been a week. When I gave you my number, my intentions were to establish more of a semi-annual approach with these check-ins," she joked, humor clear in her tone. She certainly wasn't going to tell him that she'd spent the last few days answering every call from an unidentified number hoping it would be Raylan. She should've wrote his number down, would've been less embarrassing.

"Well, I don't mean to bug ya. I just wanted to make sure it was the right number. Truth be told, I half-expected that calling this number would direct me to a Chuck E. Cheese or somethin'," he responded. Loretta was wrong. She could hear his smile across the phone. She wondered if he could hear hers.

"I thought about doing that, trust me."

"Well, lucky me that you didn't," Raylan responded dryly. "Say, how are ya feeling now with this whole weight off your back?"

"Pretty great. I actually saw Gutterson at the bar just yesterday, we talked some about it. He told me their leaders are gonna be behind bars, they're losing their properties, and whoever is left is gonna be left scrambling for jobs." Loretta's grin hadn't worn off yet. "So I technically played a part in an investigation that took down an incredibly racist gang of morons?"

"You did," Raylan affirmed. "The U.S. Marshals and I are lucky to have friends in high places like you."

"I think I have a taste for the finer aspects of justice. This past week has made me realize that I'd have been an outstanding U.S. marshal if I wanted to be." There was some humor in her voice, but it didn't seem like she was lying.

"Now that'd have been something," Raylan paused, and Loretta could feel the purpose of the silence. He was carefully considering how to put his next words. "I bet you would have been. But you'll be outstanding at whatever you decide to put your mind to, Loretta. World's your oyster, and all of that."

Loretta was starting to think she preferred the way things played out to the way she dreamed they would. Even her imagination couldn't have predicted the catharsis that she could've gotten out of all of this. "Thanks, Raylan."

"Don't mention it. I was serious about the 'don't take over the world' thing though. You'd be great at it, but that doesn't mean you should do it."

"Don't fret, Raylan. As it happens my sights are only set on state-wide domination."

"Well, that's good news. Always start small."

"Ha-ha."

"Alright, I'm gonna have to go in a minute. Kid's cryin'. You got any fun plans today?"

"Nah, I'm kinda layin' low right now. Not much going on." Loretta felt a buzz on her phone. "Okay, I got another incoming call. I'll talk to you later, Raylan."

"See ya, Loretta."

Loretta switched to the other caller, smile still lingering.

"We're getting impatient," a monotone voice came across the phone. "Negotiations were supposed to begin an hour ago. You're not the only person we're discussing terms with today, you know."

"Well, I will be once we figure out a number." Loretta got comfy in the back seat as her driver pulled into the casino parking lot. "I'll see you in a couple of minutes. Just make sure there's something for me to sign." Loretta hung up. She wasn't yet sure how having a controlling stake in a Bell County casino was going to play out with the rest of her business model, but there was nothing wrong with having a diversified portfolio. Besides, they stressed her out last week. Having the majority of their ownership would be some nice recompense for that horrible transgression. She'd also be sending a message.

Win, win.