A/N: Sorry that it took so long, folks; college life called, it wanted my time back :)

Last time on Blazin' Trails, Ricochet defends Droop-a-Long from two guys who have been abusing him. That should've been the end of it...but things heat up in this chapter...and that's all I'm going to say about it~!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Ricochet or Droop-a-Long, folks.


Story 16: Protector

Part 2

The next morning...

"You folks can't do this! We need Ricochet as the town sheriff!"

"Yeah, and he'll beat up people when he's supposed to be protectin' them!"

"I say we elect a new sheriff and deputy, pronto!"

The shouts of the townspeople outside the office roused Ricochet out of his sleep. Groaning, he made his way out of his room, down the stairs and went to the front door. Droop-a-Long was still asleep, his snores resounding throughout the office. Ricochet found no need to wake him for this, considering the day he'd had yesterday.

He opened the door to see a large crowd gathered around the office. Standing on the porch were five men, all of them holding shotguns and looking down at him menacingly.

"Is there somethin' I can do for you?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

The man in the blue and orange plaid shirt waved a hand to silence the townspeople. When they were quieted, he cleared his throat and pulled out a sheet of paper from his vest. "Sheriff Ricochet, I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but we're here to arrest you," he said. "And in case you don't believe us, we have the court order to prove it."

Ricochet took a long look at the paper in front of him, and his eyes widened. His hands gripped the paper so tightly that he almost ripped it in half. He looked up at the men, who started backwards when they saw the anger in his eyes. Only the first man didn't move.

"Look, you shouldn't be too surprised. You were the one who tackled them through the window," he said. "And to think they appointed you to be the sheriff."

"You don't deserve to wear that badge!" an old woman shouted, and several more hurled similar insults.

"SHUT UP, ALL OF YA!" the man said. Once again, the townspeople quieted, although a few of them were still making rude remarks about Ricochet.

After a moment of glaring at the man, Ricochet folded up the paper and placed it his vest. "Thank you for bringing this to me, fellas. I'll be sure to bring my deputy up to speed on what's goin' on," he said slowly. The anger in his voice was unmistakable. "I reckon you've got a lot of duties, so I won't keep ya. You go on back to Town Hall 'n tell 'em I got this. I need to tell my deputy what's goin' on."

"We'll do that, Ricochet. As for now, you're goin' to jail!" the first man yelled.

"You can't jus' do that!"

"Yeah, we can," the first man said. They all raised their shotguns and aimed them at Ricochet's chest. "And we'll bring you there dead if we have to."

The second man gulped as he turned to the leader. "Um...a-are you sure that's a good idea? I-I mean, bringing him in like that would-"

"So what if it ruins our chances at gettin' paid? We're still bringin' him in!" the man said. "Now march, Ricochet!"

Ricochet's hand balled into a fist. A part of him wished he'd woken up Droop-a-Long; he really needed a calming influence right about now. "Alright, fine," he grumbled, putting his hands up. "Ya don't have to be pushy."

"Get goin', lawman!" the men said, and Ricochet complied, making his way through the crowd to do so. All the while, he stewed in his anger.

Someone's gotta get to the bottom of this...!


Droop-a-Long lifted his head slowly, yawning and rubbing his eyes. The sun was rising high into the sky, bathing his room with bright light. How long had he been asleep? If he didn't get downstairs soon, Ricochet would come in and drag him out. Groaning, he sat up and started to climb out of bed and dress for the day. No doubt Ricochet was already on a case, probably without him again.

He still couldn't believe that Ricochet would jump in and defend him like he had yesterday. Although it was nice to see someone stand up for him, he knew that it would only get them into trouble in the end. Those guys were right; he really was nothing but trouble. Droop-a-Long was amazed that Ricochet had put up with him as his deputy for five whole years without firing him. Despite their opposite personalities and the frequent arguing they'd had, Ricochet still considered Droop-a-Long to be his best friend.

For the life of him, Droop-a-Long didn't understand why or how Ricochet would call him that. If anything, he should be mad at him for everything he'd done.

No sooner had he tied his belt around his waist than the door slammed open with incredible force. Droop-a-Long whirled around to see three men with guns walk in. Droop-a-Long raised his arms in surrender. "I-I'm unarmed! I'm unarmed!"

"We know that, Deputy," the first man said. "We're here to tell ya that the sheriff's been arrested."

Droop-a-Long felt ice go down his back. "W-What? Why?"

"He beat the tar outta two people because o' you! Or did you forget that?" the first man snapped.

The third man scoffed. "With his thick skull, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Now hold on a minute," Droop-a-Long said. "I know that what Mr. Ricochet did was wrong, but them two fellers he jailed were in the wrong first for sayin' that stuff."

"Even so, did that give Ricochet the right to tackle them both through the window and beat them senseless? I think not. You of all people should know that!"

Droop-a-Long swallowed. "W-Well, I did try to stop 'im..."

"And you were too late, as always," the third man said.

"That's enough, you!" the first man replied. He turned to Droop-a-Long. "Ricochet's in jail right now, and we've taken his badge away, too. We should get rid of you, too, but we need someone to keep an eye on things in town until we elect a new sheriff."

"Stay here until we get more info on the sheriff, alright?" the second man replied.

Droop-a-Long nodded uneasily. "I-I will..."

After they walked away, Droop-a-Long sat on his bed, wringing his hat. "I've gotta take Mr. Ricochet's place...?"


There had been only one occasion where Ricochet had been placed behind bars, and that was for crimes he didn't commit.

Now here he was in jail again, this time for another crime he did commit. The rabbit sat on the bench, arms folded and glaring at the wall in front of him. His knuckles ached from the beating he'd given Dave yesterday, and he unfolded his arms to look at his knuckles. The fur that covered them was gone, and they were tender and scraped raw. He hadn't realized how hard he'd punched Chuck and Dave until now. A part of him wished that he'd asked for bandages to cover them. The last thing he needed was to mess them up even more.

They'd charged him with assault and battery for what he'd done. Considering what had happened yesterday, it was a reasonable charge. Ricochet was glad that Droop-a-Long had come in and pulled him off of Dave and Chuck when he did; if he had killed either of them, he would've been stuck in jail for murder.

The townspeople were treating it as though he had murdered them. The warden had decided to keep him in for sixty days, and some of the townspeople thought that was a reasonable punishment. However, the townspeople who believed that he had beat them up for no reason wanted him hanged. They were thinking of holding a trial, but threats of mobs surrounding the court made the people at Town Hall reconsider that. For now, he was to sit in jail for his intended sentence.

Ricochet could only imagine what Droop-a-Long was thinking right about then. The coyote had never taken charge as sheriff before, and he probably wouldn't have been able to cope with the stress of doing the duties of sheriff and the people's scrutiny. What angered him most of all was that most of the people hadn't batted an eye after seeing him take on those two men. They'd been shocked and surprised, but they hadn't called him out as they had seen and heard everything as well. But today proved that there were people that had the same attitude that Chuck and Dave had, just like Droop-a-Long said.

People would question him and wonder why he'd snapped like that. Droop-a-Long's nature was the reason Ricochet had done so. Droop-a-Long was the opposite of most people in town: he was a sweet guy who always put others ahead of himself, and wouldn't hurt a fly. This nature was one that many people would try to use to their own advantage, just like Dave and Chuck had. Although the coyote would normally tell him what was wrong, yesterday proved that if he was really scared, he'd bottle everything up until he couldn't hold it anymore. Hearing the whole story had made him angry as well as upset; he'd been half-tempted to go to the jail and beat those two senseless again.

Now here he was in jail, and they were nowhere in sight. A part of him was glad for it; had they been there, he would've resorted to violence, which would spell problems for him.

"Psst...Mr. Ricochet! Mr. Ricochet!"

One of Ricochet's ears perked up, but then lowered. What would the townspeople want with him this time? To heckle him again? He sighed and rested his head in his palms, willing whoever it was to go away.

That thought was discouraged when something hit him in the back of the head. "OW!" His temper flaring, he got up and went over to the window, climbing up the bunk to do so. Whoever had done that was going to regret having done so. "What's the big idea, ya knucklehead?! Can't a rabbit have some time to think?!"

"Oh...I'm sorry, Mr. Ricochet. I-I jus' wanted to give ya somethin'..."

Ricochet gasped. Only one person had a twangy drawl like that. Looking out the window, he saw his deputy standing there, looking somewhat disappointed. "Oh, shucks, Droop-a-Long, you could've told me it was you!" he said. He remembered his insult and winced. "Sorry about callin' you a knucklehead. I-I thought you was one of the folks from town!"

"That's alright, Mr. Ricochet. Probably shoulda told ya who I was first," Droop-a-Long said. He paused, then added, "O' course, if ya don't wanna see me right now..."

"No, Droop, you're fine. I'm 'bout ready to tear my fur outta my head from sittin' in here," Ricochet said. "What did ya need?"

"How long are ya stayin' in jail, Mr. Ricochet? I tried askin' the folks, but nobody wants ta tell me anythin'."

"Sixty days," Ricochet said. He was surprised at how easy it was to say that. Earlier, he would've shouted it at the top of his lungs in anger. "They've given me a charge of assault and battery for what happened with Dave an' Chuck."

"Oh, no...with that charge, you might never be sheriff again," Droop-a-Long said. "After all, the townsfolk won' elect a convicted criminal."

Ricochet sighed. "That's true, Deputy. But I've heard that there's a petition goin' around for the people to let me outta jail. They were gonna have a trial for me, but the higher ups were afraid that people would try to kill me," he answered. "So, I'm sittin' in this here jail cell 'til they can figure out what to do with me."

"Oh...shucks, this is all my fault," Droop-a-Long said. "I shoulda never dragged you into my mess..."

"Droopy, for the last time, it's not your fault. It's mine." He sighed again. "I'm lucky that I got tacked with assault an' battery for this. If I'd beat them up when I tried to arrest them, that'd be police brutality and I'd be as good as dead by now."

"Mr. Ricochet..."

"Yes, Droop-a-Long?"

"I was thinkin' of this while I was at the office, an' I wanted ta ask what you thought of it."

"What's that, Droop?"

"...would it be easier on everyone else iffin' I jus' left?" Droop-a-Long asked sadly.

"What?!" Ricochet exclaimed. He stared at the coyote in shock. "That's...that's crazy talk, Droop! Why would you even think of leavin'?"

"Mostly 'cause I'm nothin' but trouble, Mr. Ricochet. I've done nothin' but cause trouble for ya for five years," Droop-a-Long said. "I ain't fast, I ain't all that smart, and-"

"Droop-a-Long, stop beatin' yourself up like this!" Ricochet interrupted. "I don't want ya doin' this to yerself!"

Droop-a-Long stopped, looking up at Ricochet in surprise. "But..."

"Don't 'but' in, Deputy," Ricochet interrupted. "I get why you're thinkin' of leavin'. After all, those guys terrorized you, people are insultin' you, and a new sheriff might be elected...one who probably won't hesitate to throw you out. But you're not nothin' but trouble, Droop-a-Long. You've screwed up and you've gotten on my nerves many times, but you've never given me any trouble."

"'Til now," Droop-a-Long said.

"Droop-a-Long, listen! What happened between Dave an' Chuck wasn't your fault. You thought that they were nice people, only for them to turn out that they weren't. And they threatened and blackmailed ya into sayin' nothin' about it to me," Ricochet said. "You don't have ta blame yourself anymore, Droop-a-Long. It's not your fault."

"B-But you bein' in jail-"

"It's not your fault, either. It's mine. I should've stopped myself before I beat them up," he said. "But...but when I saw you cryin' 'cause of what they said, that did it for me. I will not sit back and let people make others cry, especially if they didn't do nothin' to them in the first place." He sighed. "I know that I was wrong in losin' my temper...but I wasn't gonna sit back and let you get insulted like that. Friends defend each other, Droop-a-Long. Never forget that."

Droop-a-Long stood there for a long time, not moving. Then he started to shudder and sniffle, and wiped his eyes from under his hat. "Aw, M-Mr. Ricochet...t-that's the nicest thing you've ever said ta me..."

"Hey, don't get teary eyed on me, Droop," Ricochet said. "I was jus' tellin' you what I stand up for."

"I-I know...but after what happened, i-it's nice to hear that someone will stand up for me." Droop-a-Long smiled. "T-Thank ya, Mr. Ricochet. I appreciate it a lot. A-And I reckon I won' leave town now."

Ricochet smiled back. "You're welcome, Droop-a-Long," he said. "I'm glad I could cheer ya up a little bit. I've got your back for always, ya know that?"

"I do now, Mr. Ricochet. I-I'm-a tryin' to find a way to get you outta jail, but-"

"You don't have to do that, Droop-a-Long," Ricochet said. "You jus' worry about your job as sheriff, and I'll worry about the jail situation."

"You sure, Mr. Ricochet?"

"Positive, Droop. Now, you'd best mosey on back to the office, okay? The warden's not back yet, but he will be soon, and he doesn't like it when inmates are chatterin'," Ricochet answered.

Droop-a-Long didn't look convinced, but all he said was, "Alright, Mr. Ricochet. You take care o' yourself, okay?"

"You too, Droop." He started to get down, but then another question came into his mind. He came back up to the window, where he saw Droop-a-Long starting to walk away. "Hey, Droop-a-Long!"

Droop-a-Long stopped and turned around. "What is it, Mr. Ricochet?"

"What was it that you threw at the back of my head?" he asked.

"Oh...it's somethin' I picked up from the bakery. I heard the food in jail's terrible, so I wanted you to have somethin' to eat in there."

Ricochet sighed, but smiled. "Thanks, Droop."

"Don't mention it, Mr. Ricochet. An' uh...that's kinda not a figure o' speech, either."

Ricochet chuckled, and then he waved to Droop-a-Long before climbing down from the bunk. Talking to Droop-a-Long had calmed most of his anger, but he was still concerned. As thoughtful as it was that Droop-a-Long wanted to get him out of jail, he didn't want the coyote to worry about the situation he'd gotten into...or at least, worry about it even more. Droop-a-Long had a lot on his plate, and taking the role of town sheriff was one of them. Still, it was good to talk to his best friend again, even if it was for a little bit.

He saw the silver tin-foiled package on the floor, and picked it up. After brushing off the dirt from it, he unwrapped it to see what it was. A lemony scent filled his nostrils, and he found himself with a large slice of lemon cake. Attached to it was a small note, which was stained with some oil from the cake.

Here's something to make you feel a little better, Mr. Ricochet.

-Droop-a-Long

Ricochet smiled as he looked at the note. "That coyote's too sweet for his own good sometimes."


Town Hall was in an uproar when Droop-a-Long got inside. Most of the people in the court appeared to be the average citizens, but there were a good majority who were from the wealthier parts of town. Nobody noticed his coming in, as most of them were yelling at the mayor, J.P. Nuggets.

"Order! We shall have order!" one of the guards yelled, blocking the people from coming closer. It was no use; the crowd was restless, and some people were hurling insults.

"I'd like to see Cottontail get outta this one!"

"He's not so tough without his badge, is he?"

"I told ya we should hang him!"

Droop-a-Long was aghast. He knew that things were bad, but he hadn't expected things to be like this.

J.P. Nuggets looked irritated. When someone shouted, "I hope he gets beat up jus' as bad!", that did it. With a loud yell of, "ENOUGH!" he managed to get the crowd to stop shouting. His face was beet red, and he glared at the assembled people.

"Unless any of you want to be thrown out of here, you must control yourselves!" he thundered, glaring at the people. "And no insults will be made during this meeting. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mayor," the crowd replied.

"Good. Now, as I was saying," J.P. said, "we of the town of Hoop 'n Holler are rather disappointed in Ricochet Rabbit, but we're willing to give him a second chance. I don't know the whole story yet, but I bet there's more to it than just him beating people senseless."

"There was, sir! Those two fellers were lookin' for a fight!" a man yelled.

"They were two unarmed men, Jeb! They couldn't defend themselves!"

"Unarmed?!" A third man all but shouted the word. "They were not unarmed, lady! Chuck had a gun and he was gonna shoot the sheriff!"

"In self-defense," the woman said, "because Sheriff Ricochet attacked him simply because he talked to the deputy."

"He did not jus' talk to him! He insulted him and called him a monster! Droop-a-Long's nothin' like that!" another man shouted.

"How do you know that?" the woman accused.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please!" J.P. Nuggets said. "Calm down!"

The woman sighed and folded her arms. "Forgive me, Mr. Mayor," she said.

"That's better. Now I understand that Ricochet and his deputy Droop-a-Long are good friends, correct?"

"I've heard that Droop-a-Long's his best friend. They've been workin' together for five years now," the first man, Jeb, said.

"I know you say Droop-a-Long is not the monster that he appears to be," the woman continued, "but coyotes as a whole tend to have very good manipulation skills."

"M-Manipulation skills?" Jeb repeated. "What are you tryin' to say?"

"I'm saying that we all could've been. He could've fooled us into thinking he's a harmless, kind-hearted coyote when he's nothing like that at all," she said. "If anything, I think he tricked the sheriff into believing that to the point where that if anybody was giving him 'problems', you'd defend him."

A fifth man slammed his fist on the table. "This is outrageous!" he screamed, and several more people started shouting.

"Droop-a-Long didn't manipulate him into doin' nothin', lady!" Jeb said.

"Who knows? She could have a point!" an old man shouted back.

"He fought them 'cause they said horrible things about 'im and terrorized him!" Jeb argued.

"Did he even tell the sheriff that Dave and Chuck were 'terrorizing' him? Until I have proof, I won't believe that codswallop!" the old man shouted.

Droop-a-Long had had enough. Clearing his throat, he shouted, "You want proof? You've got all the proof right here!"

Everyone gasped as they turned to face whoever had come in. Droop-a-Long was standing in the doorway, his expression angry. J.P. Nuggets stared in shock as the coyote made his way over to him.

"What is the meaning of this?" someone thundered.

"Droop-a-Long, what are you doing?!" J.P. Nuggets asked.

"He's supposed to be at the office!" one of the people said.

Droop-a-Long ignored the people's murmurs as he faced J.P. Nuggets. He was very nervous, but he knew that he had to explain what happened. If he was going to help his friend, then now was the time. "Mr. Nuggets, I know this is right uncouth of me ta burst in on the meetin' like this, but what Mr. Jeb's sayin' is the truth," he said. "Those two fellers, Dave 'n Chuck, did harass me when I first came to town, and they've been buggin' me ever since. I jus' didn't tell nobody 'cause they made me keep silent.

"What Mr. Ricochet did wasn't right-he almost killed them two fellers-but he did it by 'imself, not because of what I told 'im. I only told him everythin' that happened to me after he beat 'em up. And I know Mr. Ricochet to know that he won' stand around and let people insult his friends, or threaten them neither," Droop-a-Long said. "And...and I won't stand around and listen to people mixin' up things about me, either." He frowned. "Everybody knows that Dave 'n Chuck started it first; that's why there are people who're defendin' Mr. Ricochet. He clobbered 'em, but he didn't kill 'em 'cause I stopped him from doin' it."

For the first time since the meeting had started, there was dead silence in Town Hall. Then J.P. Nuggets said, "Deputy Droop-a-Long, are you certain that you're telling me the truth?"

"I was there, sir. The whole thing started 'cause I was there," Droop-a-Long said. "I swear on my sworn duty as deputy."

"Hmm..." J.P. Nuggets stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "I'll take this into consideration. But I have a feelin' that you're not here to jus' defend Ricochet, am I right?"

"Right, Mr. Nuggets. I want ya to reduce Mr. Ricochet's sentence, Your Honor," Droop-a-Long said. "If you arrest him an' take away his badge, Hoop 'n Holler will go back to bein' a town full of crime. He's the best sheriff this town's got, and I don't know who can take his place."

"There's no arguin' about that," J.P. Nuggets replied. "He's known as the fastest sheriff in all the West for a reason."

Most of the crowd gave their murmurs in agreement.

"Please, sir. If ya gotta punish Ricochet, punish 'im fer assault and battery...er, somethin' like that," Droop-a-Long replied. "But don't kick him outta the sheriff's office."

The crowd murmured again. After a moment of looking at Droop-a-Long, J.P. Nuggets said, "Alright, I'll call a twenty-minute recess, and then we'll wrap this up," he said. "I'll take your suggestion into consideration when I talk with the other members of Town Hall, Deputy."

"Thank you, Mr. Nuggets," he said. "Once again, I'm-a might sorry I burst in on ya..."

"No need to apologize. But next time, do make an appointment with my secretary," Nuggets replied. He motioned for his guards to come with him as he left. Immediately, the floor was buzzing with conversations.

Droop-a-Long started to leave, but that was when someone grabbed him by the arm. Droop-a-Long recognized this man as the one who had told him Ricochet had been arrested. "Deputy Droop-a-Long, I gave ya an order to stay at the office!" he said.

"I know."

"Then why did you come down here?!"

"Like I said, I won't let people say bad things 'bout me, or about Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long answered. "And I had the feelin' that somethin' was wrong here, so I came down. When I came in, I heard that Mr. Jeb tellin' the judge that I didn't manipulate Mr. Ricochet into doin' stuff, an' that's the truth. Folks were gettin' real riled up, so I had to say somethin'." He smiled a little. "I told ya they'd probably listen to me. He even said he'd consider my suggestion."

Jeb sighed. "Even so, ya didn't have to defend me like that. I can defend myself jus' fine. 'sides, I'm in here defendin' you and Mr. Ricochet!"

"I appreciate it, Mr. Jeb, but Mr. Ricochet told me somethin': friends defend each other. He defended me from people who were abusin' me, and now I'm gonna defend him from folks who want him hanged."

"But men can't get abused!" The woman who'd said that he was a manipulative monster looked up at him then. "How can we be sure that you're not lyin' to everybody, especially the sheriff?"

Looking down at the small, red-haired woman, Droop-a-Long said, "Ma'am, I don't mean to be uncouth, but it's attitudes like yours that keep people from comin' upfront and tellin' folks that they've been hurt by others. It can happen to anybody, and they don't even have to be a female-type. Men can get abused, too. You jus' probably don't hear nothin' 'bout it, though."

With that, Droop-a-Long turned and left. He was glad that he'd kept his hat on today, as it meant that nobody would have to see his tears. The memories of Dave and Chuck beating him up, as well as their horrible words to him, were filling his mind. He knew he'd told Ricochet only half the story, but the last thing he needed was for Ricochet to become vengeful. Ricochet had almost killed Dave and Chuck when he beat them up; he didn't want the rabbit to actually finish them off.

He only hoped J.P. Nuggets' words weren't an empty promise.


At the county jail...

"So, is Ricochet in jail?" Dave asked, looking up at his contact. "And are they gonna choose another sheriff?"

"Yes, sir," the contact said. He had light brown hair and wore a light blue shirt and dark blue, dusty overalls. "He's been placed in for sixty days."

"Sixty days? After what he did to us, he should get sixty years!" Dave shouted.

"Oh, some folks think he should be hanged," the man said. "There are some people tryin' to come after him with nooses and stuff. It's got so bad that there have been some guards placed outside the jail to keep 'em from gettin' in."

"Let them hang 'im is what I'd say," Chuck droned from the other side.

"Quiet!" Dave snapped. "So, what happened to the deputy? Is he gone?"

"Uh...not quite..."

"What do you mean, 'not quite'?" Chuck said. "You guys were supposed to shoot him when you went into the office this morning!"

"I-It was Paul's idea! He decided to let him take over as sheriff until they elected a new one!"

"You idiot!" Dave roared. "You were supposed to kill him, not let him get that kind of power!"

"B-But he was unarmed..."

"So what?! We put a target on his back for a reason, you oaf! If he's kept alive, he's gonna keep talkin' about what we did to 'im. And then they'll get Ricochet out, and extend our sentence...and that'll ruin our plans!" Chuck said.

"W-What do you want us to do?" the man replied.

"Finish the job," Dave hissed. "I don't care what you have to do. Just make sure he's dead by the end of the day. And in the morning, Sheriff Ricochet's gonna wish he never messed with us!"

"I-I think it might be the other way around..."

Dave turned on him. "What was that?"

"U-Uh, nothin'..."

"Don't just stand there, then! Get out there! And there can be no mistakes this time, Zeb."

"R-Right!" Zeb turned and ran out of the jailhouse. Dave scoffed.

"What an idiot...I bet he didn't have the heart to do it," he said.

"He will when he learns how much money we'll cut from 'im," Chuck said. "If there's one thing that'll get a man, it's gettin' in the way of his money."

Dave chuckled. "Darn straight."


Later that evening...

Droop-a-Long sipped quietly from his cup of coffee, finding the quiet in the office a bit unsettling. It was his first night without Ricochet in the office, something that he would never get used to. Sixty days with nobody to talk to and nothing to do...he sighed. It was going to be a long, boring two months.

He wondered what Ricochet was doing right now. He was probably bored out of his mind, too, and he probably didn't have anybody to talk to, either. After all, if there was anybody at the jail, they'd all be trying to strangle the rabbit for putting them in there. And of course, TV wasn't offered at the jail, either, so he had nothing to take his mind off his situation.

Droop-a-Long only hoped that Ricochet's situation would get better. He knew that Ricochet would explode when he heard of what he'd done, but if it was for his own good, he didn't really care. He'd take a week's worth of lectures from the sheriff if it meant he was out of jail and back at work. Ricochet's words had lit a fire under him, one that inspired him to do what he could to help his best friend.

He finished the rest of his coffee and made his way over to the desk. Other than having to settle a dispute between two men earlier in the day, no major cases had to be settled today. It looked like a slow night, but one could never be sure. He rummaged through the desk to search for his yo-yo, which had been a gift from one of his friends back in Shadybrook. He whistled as he played with the yo-yo, doing a walk-the-dog on the desk.

His quiet evening was interrupted when bullets ripped through the walls. He jumped to the ground as bullets slammed into the wall behind the desk. Some of them ricocheted off the desk and hit the floor. Droop-a-Long covered his head with his hands as the barrage continued.

Over the sounds of gunfire came the sound of the door being kicked down. "Quit firin'! Are ya tryin' ta kill me?!" someone shouted. When the gunfire stopped, the person shouted, "Come out, Deputy, or we'll drag you out!"

Droop-a-Long pulled himself out from under the desk and peered out to see what was going on. Standing in the room was the man who'd told him that Ricochet'd been arrested. The barrel of his gun was smoking. Standing behind him were men with rifles. Bullet casings scattered the porch.

"Get up, Deputy," the man growled, pointing his pistol at Droop-a-Long.

Droop-a-Long did, and raised his hands in surrender. "I'm unarmed, an' I won't hurt ya, okay? Can you guys tell me what's goin' on?" he said calmly.

"You're gonna die, that's what's going on," the man said.

For the second time that day, ice trickled down Droop-a-Long's back. "W-What? I didn't do anythin'!"

"You're a pain in our bosses' boots. We were actually supposed to kill you way earlier when we showed up to arrest Ricochet, but we figured that would get your friend riled up," he said. "But now our boss is cuttin' our paychecks, and the only we get our pay is if we finish the job."

"F-Fellers, you don't have to do this..." Droop-a-Long started, coming from around the desk. "Look, I'll let ya walk away, but-"

"He's got a gun, Zeb!" one of the men said. "He was lyin' about bein' unarmed!"

Droop-a-Long looked down at the silver gun that was in his holster and cursed himself inwardly. He'd completely forgotten that it was there. "Oh, great..."

"You're goin' down, Deputy!" Zeb shouted and opened fire.

Droop-a-Long hit the ground, grasping his knee and shouting in pain. One of the men behind Zeb facepalmed. "You were supposed to shoot 'im in the chest, you idiot!" he shouted.

Zeb avoided the man's gaze. "Just...just finish him off however you want, Paul," he said.

"Fine. But don't think we won't tell Dave that you didn't the heart ta do it yourself," Paul snapped. He motioned to the other men and walked inside, his face set into an angry scowl. Some of the men had clubs, and they surrounded the wounded Droop-a-Long in a circle. With a nod, they all started to beat on Droop-a-Long, aiming at his face and other parts of his body. Screams filled the air as they continued to beat on the wounded coyote. Blood soon splattered the ground, and Droop-a-Long's screams only mounted in agony.

Zeb clenched his hand into a fist, and he turned away from the gruesome scene. Paul was right: he didn't have the heart to do something like this. He had only wanted to wound Droop-a-Long, to scare him into leaving, not kill him. But he wasn't the one calling the shots, and he knew he was no better than Paul and the others. He did this to get paid so he could feed his family. And a shortage of money had made him a desperate man.

He wasn't even aware that the beating had stopped until Paul tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and saw that Paul's face and hands were splattered with blood. He sighed. "Is he dead?" he asked.

"He's still breathin', but we can finish him off if ya want," Paul replied.

Zeb heard the ragged breathing coming from behind Paul. He prayed that Paul didn't turn around to let him see Droop-a-Long. He was already feeling sick, and seeing what they'd done to the coyote would only make him throw up on the spot. Swallowing, he said, "Come on, we've gotta take him with us. If we leave 'im there, they're gonna be out for blood."

"What're we gonna do with 'im?" Paul asked. "Dave an' Chuck are gonna wanna know."

Zeb thought for a moment. It was then that he heard the loud, lone whistle of a train. "Stuff him in a bag and get him to the platform. I've got an idea."


A couple of hours later, at the county jail...

The doors to the jailhouse swung open, awakening the warden. He turned to find five bloodstained men standing there, armed to the teeth. "What the-"

That was all he got out before he was knocked out by the butt of Zeb's shotgun. The loud thud that resounded awoke Dave, who was closest to the door.

"What's goin' on?" he muttered. When he saw Zeb standing there, he said, "Well?"

"We did what you asked," Zeb said. There was no fear in his eyes. "Droop-a-Long Coyote is our of your hair for good, an' the sheriff's office is good for the takin'."

Dave chuckled. "I knew you wouldn't make a mistake, Zeb," he said.

"So, when are we gettin' paid?" Paul asked.

"Soon," Dave said. "You'll receive your reward once we get out of jail. I just want to see the town of Hoop 'n Holler thrown into chaos come mornin'."

"What about Ricochet?"

Dave scoffed. "Ricochet can't do nothin' in his present situation. He's already lost his position as sheriff, so there's no need to worry about a lawman comin' after any of us," he said. "Besides, nothin' he does can change the fact that his deputy's finished, and so's his career. Ricochet's not gonna do nothin' to us. You'll see."

Zeb only hoped that he was right.


The next morning...

J.P. Nuggets made his way towards the sheriff's office, a sheet of paper in his hand. He yawned loudly, catching a stare or two from those who were walking by. He'd stayed up half the night battling and debating with the staff about this matter, and finally they'd come to a solution in the wee hours of the morning. He wanted to inform Droop-a-Long before he headed home to sleep in.

In all reality, the decision shouldn't have been so hard to make, but he hadn't known how many people would battle him for his decision. He trusted Ricochet Rabbit in the past, and his deputy didn't seem to be the type to lie about this sort of thing. And since he'd compared Droop-a-Long's side with the events that had happened yesterday, that only strengthened his conviction. He knew that the coyote would be overjoyed to hear this news.

When he made it to the sheriff's office however, he encountered a horrible sight. The building was filled with holes, and hundreds of bullet casings were scattered on the ground. The door had been knocked down, and blood covered the floor near the desk. There was no sign of Droop-a-Long, but his hat and his neckerchief, the latter of which was soaked in blood, was on the ground.

J.P. Nuggets stood there for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the horrible sight in front of him. Then he turned around and took off full speed for the town jail, running as fast as his legs could carry him.


"LET HIM OUTTA THERE! SOMEONE, GET RICOCHET RABBIT OUTTA THERE AT ONCE!"

Ricochet shot out of bed so fast, he hit his head against the top bunk. Biting back a curse, he turned towards the source of the noise. Outside, someone was pounding on the door like a maniac, to the point where it was shaking the walls of the jail. "What in the blue blazes is goin' on?!"

The warden opened the door to the jail cells, and J.P. Nuggets rushed in, huffing and puffing. Ricochet stared in shock. The mayor looked like he'd run a marathon-and for as long as Ricochet had known J.P. Nuggets, he'd never known the mayor to run anywhere, ever.

"J.P. Nuggets? What're you doin' here?" Ricochet asked. "And why're you bellerin' like a banshee out thar?"

After taking a moment to regain his breath and his composure, J.P. Nuggets stood up and looked Ricochet in the eye. It was then that Ricochet noticed how urgent he looked. "M-Mayor?"

"Ricochet...I've got good news, and I've got grave news," he said.

Ricochet gulped, a knot forming at the base of his stomach. "What news?" he asked.

"The good news is...you're gonna be allowed to take up your position as sheriff again," he said. "We discussed it at Town Hall, and we decided to drop all charges against you."

Ricochet gaped at the man. "Are...are ya serious?" he asked.

"Yes, I am, and I've got the papers to prove it," J.P. replied, holding up the paper.

Ricochet leaped out of bed in joy, only to hit his head against the bunk again. "YEOWCH!" He rubbed his head, feeling the lump that was starting to form. "Maybe I shoulda gotten outta bed first..."

"Now, Ricochet, I wouldn't get too excited 'cause...well, it's connected to the bad news."

Ricochet felt the smile tugging on his face slip instantly. "W-What's the bad news?"

J.P. Nuggets swallowed. "Ricochet...your deputy came to Town Hall yesterday and told me upfront about what had happened. After comparin' his story with yours and fightin' with half of my staff, I was able to grant you your release. I-I went to the office this mornin' to tell him the news, but...someone got into the office before me an' made a horrible mess of things. A-And I think Deputy Droop-a-Long was one of them."

Horror the likes of which Ricochet had never felt before gripped him then. He stared back at J.P. Nuggets, his eyes wider than dinner plates, his irises smaller than tacks. J.P. took a step forward in concern. "R-Ricochet?"

Ricochet sank to his knees, and the mayor ran to the jail cell, tugging on the bars. "Ricochet, are you alright?! Ricochet!"

Even though the man was yelling directly into his ears, Ricochet didn't pay him any mind. His mind was running on what J.P. Nuggets had just said. This couldn't be right. It just couldn't be. Droop-a-Long, slow-moving, naive, but incredibly good-natured Droop-a-Long, was dead, murdered by an unknown criminal. A part of Ricochet wanted to believe that this was a sick joke, that Droop-a-Long was playing a prank on him. But he knew that wasn't so. Even though Droop-a-Long had a mischievous streak, he would never play a prank that mean-spirited. In fact, if he were alive, he would've come down to tell Ricochet himself that he'd gotten him out of jail.

Droop-a-Long had freed Ricochet from spending time jail or worse, only to pay dearly for it. Droop-a-Long was gone for doing the right thing, for being his usual selfless, thoughtful, incredibly stupid self...

"I-I didn't see a body there at all, so I think someone must've taken 'im away," Nuggets was saying. "But the blood...Ricochet, it was aw-"

"Nuggets." The mayor's name was said in a soft, clinical whisper.

J.P's mouth snapped shut. He looked down at Ricochet, who was pulling himself to his feet. His head was still lowered at the ground, shadowed by his hat. "R-Ricochet?"

"I want ya to show that warden the paper so I can get outta here. I'm headin' back to the office," Ricochet said in that same low tone.

J.P. Nuggets looked at him as though he were insane. "Ricochet, the office is practically a crime scene!"

"And as sheriff, I'm gonna do my duty an' investigate," Ricochet countered. He looked up at J.P. Nuggets then, and the hardened look in his eyes made the mayor step back. "Now, this is the last time I'm gonna say it, J.P.: show that feller the paper and get me outta here."

J.P. stared at him for a few moments more, and then quickly went out the door. A few seconds later, he was talking with the warden, their voices intermingling.

Ricochet gripped the bars tightly, his knuckles screaming with pain. His body shuddered, and he gripped them even tighter to keep himself from crying. After a long, arduous minute, he forced himself to regain control, and he let out a long breath. He would not cry. He would not cry, not here and now of all times. J.P. was already worried; the last thing he needed was to have a breakdown in jail. He had to be strong. He had to tough it out as long as he could. He had to do his job and investigate...even if it meant he'd take this as a personal case. Even if it meant having to do it without his deputy at his side.

I'm gonna head back to the office and see this for myself. And if what J.P. Nuggets says is true, then I'm gonna find the person who did this an' make them pay dearly.


Later that morning...

There was a mob surrounding the office when Ricochet arrived. Most people were staring inside the office in horror, their eyes wide and mouths covered with their hands. Already in a sour mood, Ricochet shouted, "Alright, folks, this is a crime scene! I need all of ya to clear out!"

When they all saw him, people stood back about ten feet upon seeing the hard look in his eyes. Even the people brave enough to step on the porch jumped off as soon as they saw the bright gold star pinned onto his vest. The sheriff was back, and by the look on his face, he meant business.

Heading up the steps, Ricochet noticed that the porch was littered with bullet casings, and that there were holes all over the front. He walked inside, careful to avoid the front door, which was chipped in places. When he looked up from the door, the first thing he saw were the holes in the walls. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. There was one bullet casing on the floor in front of him, and he picked it up. It had come from a pistol, he knew, while the other bullets around him were from rifles, which had been used to put the holes in the walls.

"Whoever did this had help," he mused.

The second thing he saw was the blood that was on the floor in front of the desk. There was a lot of blood like J.P. Nuggets had said, and he didn't imagine Droop-a-Long making short work of the people who attacked him. There weren't any bullet casings here, but two items in particular stood out to Ricochet: a large, green hat, and a blood-soaked neckerchief. He knew then where the blood had come from. Forcing himself to walk over to the spot, he picked up the hat first, and then the neckerchief. The latter was soaked with blood, which ran through to his fur.

Someone had shot Droop-a-Long and then beat him to death. He'd been cruelly slaughtered, and then the criminals had gotten rid of his body, hoping that he would never be found.

For the second time that day, he sank to his knees, Droop-a-Long's clothes in his arms. These were the only things that remained of his deputy, his best friend. He hadn't even heard any gunshots or screaming as the townspeople had; he'd fallen into a fitful sleep after hours of being bored. He hadn't known that yesterday would be the last time he'd ever see his best friend, and Droop-a-Long hadn't known either.

He held the hat close, the sobs he'd held back at the jail starting to rack his frame. J.P. Nuggets had been right; coming back to the office had been a bad idea. He didn't care if people were looking in, or saying anything about him. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone to wallow in his grief. His sobs echoed throughout the office and only grew louder with each passing moment as memories of his time with Droop-a-Long filled his mind.

Outside of the office, the gathered citizens of Hoop 'n Holler watched the sheriff cry. Many of them had their hats off in sorrowful respect, while others were trying not to cry themselves. They had insulted Droop-a-Long as well, calling him the dumb deputy and what not, but even they never would have wished something this horrible on him. And now, looking down at the sobbing Ricochet, it was clear that the rabbit's words were true. Their relationship hadn't been a manipulative one where one was controlling what the other did. They really had been best friends-an odd pair, but an unbreakable one at that.

After a good five minutes of watching Ricochet cry, one of the men said, "Come on, guys, let's go. Leave the sheriff be."

Sorrowful, the townspeople walked away, some of them starting to cry themselves. Only one person stood on the porch, his bright green eyes teary and set into a determined glare. With his hand balled into a fist, Jeb turned and walked away.

"Someone's gotta do somethin' about this...!"


Late afternoon, at the county jail...

"This is rich!" Dave cackled. "All of Hoop 'n Holler's gone up in arms because the dumb deputy's gone."

"Good riddance, I say," Chuck replied. "Ricochet's probably reelin' right now."

"Or he's in an early grave, too. You know how sensitive rabbits can be."

"Ricochet's no sensitive rabbit. Be glad that he's still in jail, 'cause he would've been after us by now," Chuck replied.

"That's true. But still, the deputy's gone, and Ricochet's in jail. So that means soon we're gonna get outta here and have the positions we deserved way more than that dumb coyote."


"Ricochet...?" J.P. Nuggets said softly as he made his way into the office. Things had been tidied up since he last saw it, though there were still bullet holes in the wall. The bullet casings from the porch had been gathered into a large box, which sat on the desk.

And sitting at the desk was Ricochet, who instead of leaning back in his chair like normal sat hunched over at the edge of his chair. Droop-a-Long's hat, which was still marked with blood, was gripped in his hands. His eyes were red from crying, and a small sniffle escaped his nose.

J.P. sighed. It hurt him to see the sheriff like this. "Ricochet..."

Ricochet jumped up from his chair with a start, only to relax when he saw J.P. "Oh...J.P. Nuggets. Shucks, I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't hear ya come in..."

"No need to fret, Ricochet. I didn't want ta startle ya." Taking off his hat, he looked at the rabbit with a forlorn expression on his face. "How're ya doin', Ricochet?"

"How do ya think?" Ricochet replied bitterly. "I've come back from gettin' put in jail, only to find that my deputy's been...murdered."

"You don't know that for sure-"

"Face it, J.P.! You don't have blood like that all over the floor an' say someone's still alive! Droop-a-Long is dead!" Ricochet snapped, standing up in his chair. His eyes widened as the gravity of that sentence sank in. Feeling weak in the knees for the third time that day, he sat back in his chair. His grip on Droop-a-Long's hat tightened and he shuddered. "D-Droop-a-Long's dead, and t-there's nothin' I can do about it. I'd like to think he's alive, but t-then I'd be g-gettin' my hopes up..."

"Ricochet, the best thing you can do for Droop-a-Long is to find the person who did this to him," J.P. Nuggets said. "If that feller walks free, there's no tellin' what he'll do to other folks."

"I know that. B-But how am I supposed to do that w-with no leads, no tips, no hints as to who killed 'im?" Ricochet demanded. "I-I'll be stuck searchin' for that feller forever...and by then, he'll be long gone. So if I was you, I'd forget about it."

J.P. Nuggets stared at Ricochet in shock. This was not the Ricochet he knew. The Ricochet he knew would never give up on something like this, especially if it involved someone close to him. "Ricochet-"

"J.P., if you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone right now," Ricochet interrupted. He turned away from the mayor and buried his face in his deputy's hat. "P-P-Please, jus' go."

J.P. opened his mouth to say more, but something told him that Ricochet wouldn't listen to him. Sighing, he placed his hat back on, and then left the office, doing his best to block out the rabbit's soft sobbing.

All I did was try to make this whole situation go away...and now it's gotten a whole lot worse, he mused.


Havenport Train Station

150 miles from Hoop 'n Holler

The train platform was a blur of motion, and that was just the sort of distraction that McCloud needed. In his disguise as a workman, he could unload the supplies he needed off the train without much suspicion. Taking his position near the end of the platform he watched as the train pulled up. There were many freight cars attached to this train, and he rubbed his hands greedily. To any normal worker, he looked eager to start working.

Oh, he was eager alright...for all the wrong reasons.

When the train came to a complete stop, the men started to open the doors. By pure luck, he got the car on the very end. Most of the valuables were stored at the very back, such as gold and jewels. He pulled open both doors, and whistled when he saw the payload. There were many bags of food, and one in particular looked like it contained a good amount of meat. He knew he had to get that one off first, or else it could become spoiled. McCloud climbed the steps to get to the car and picked up the sack, which was stained with blood in some spots.

He was starting to get down when the unthinkable happened: the sack started thrashing about in his arms, as though whatever was inside was trying to break out. He tried to get a hold on it, but he lost his grip and the sack tumbled onto the platform, writhing about on the ground. People jumped back and screamed, and McCloud reached for his gun, ready to shoot it until it stopped moving.

"Wait a minute, I think someone's in thar!" a man said. He rushed over and grabbed hold of the sack, untying the rope with his thick, strong fingers. The top came off, and a bloody hand appeared a moment later. More screams filled the air, and the man who'd untied the sack stared in shock as a bloody, beaten animal crawled out of the bag. "What in the name of..."

The animal coughed, and drew in a shaky breath before saying, "T-thanks, mister...I thought I was a goner..."

"What's your name, son?" he asked.

"D-Droop-a-Long. Droop-a-Long C-Coyote, sir," the coyote drawled out. "I'm a deputy...got beat up...everythin's spinnin'..."

"Someone, get over here and get this coyote some help!" someone shouted.

Most of the crowd stayed back. McCloud in particular was trying to sneak off from the scene. Unfortunately for him, the man spotted him and shouted, "You! You work here, right? How can ya sneak away an' leave when someone's in need?"

McCloud turned around slowly, biting back the urge to swear. "I, uh..."

"I want you to take him to the nearest buildin' in town and get help, real quick like, you hear?"

McCloud tensed. The nearest building in town happened to be his base. "But sir-"

"You don't have anythin' to hide, do ya?" the man asked.

Again, he had to hold his tongue. "No, sir," he said.

"Then do what yer told, man, unless you wanna lose yer job!"

With great reluctance, McCloud did so, scooping up the battered and drifting Droop-a-Long. Despite his light frame, he was heavier than he looked. Marcus winced when he got a good look at the coyote's body. Someone had done a number on him; he'd been beaten so badly, he could actually see the broken ribs through his fur. "Don' move until we get to town, alright?"

"T-Trust me...I ain' in no shape to go nowheres," Droop-a-Long said. "Ooh, my achin' ribs..."

"You've got a lot more than those to worry about, coyote," McCloud said, making his way off the platform. His week had already been bad; now this had to happen to make it even worse. "This is gonna be a long day..."

To be continued...


Yeah...this was supposed to be the end. But then a whole lot of ideas happened. And then I realized that trying to end it would feel too rushed, you know?

And I realized that I am being totally horrible to Ricochet right now. Having him believe that his best friend's dead and then reveal that he isn't...oh, well, at least he won't find out- *gets Ricochet Revolver to the face*

The next chapter will be the final part of this arc, and then we'll get back to more happy, lighthearted stuff...until my next dark idea, that is *laughs evilly*

See you around next chapter!

God Bless, iheartgod175