A/N: Alright, everyone! Listen up!

Last chapter, I said that this was supposed to be the final part of the Protector arc. But I put so many things in the final part that it ended up being nearly 30,000 words long, which is WAY too long for a chapter. So what I've done was that I split the chapter into two parts. Chapter 18 will be the real last part of this arc, and then we'll move into lighter fare. At this point, I'm thinking of extending the story even more, since I'm having way too much fun writing about this universe.

Last time on Blazin' Trails, the good news that Ricochet's been cleared of charges has been dampened by the horrible news of Droop-a-Long's disappearance. A broken Ricochet is ready to give up, and Dave and Chuck are ready to swoop in and take what they believe is theirs...but surprising news may turn the tides on this charade.

Okay, I'll shut up and let you enjoy the chapter now. :D

Disclaimer: I still don't own Ricochet and Droop-a-Long. Although considering what I put them through sometimes, maybe that's a good thing...


Story 17: Protector

Part 3

"Hey, Marcus, didja get-whoa, what the heck is that?!"

Marcus McCloud groaned as he hefted the unconscious and battered Droop-a-Long in his arms. Carrying this large coyote was starting to take its toll on him. "Quit talkin', Newly, and get a bed ready. My arms feel like lead from carryin' him for so long," he said.

"Uh, right. Jus' give me a moment, Marcus." Newly rushed into the other room, the door banging shut behind him.

The noise awoke Droop-a-Long, who erupted into a brief coughing fit before stopping with a groan. Marcus looked down at him, wincing. "Hey, don't go on me now, coyote," he said. "We haven't even treated ya yet."

"Ghhh...need...water..." Droop-a-Long wheezed. "D-Do ya have any...?"

"Sure, we've got some. I'll get it for ya an' then I'm sendin' for a doctor," Marcus said.

Newly exited the room right at that moment, motioning for Marcus to come in. "Finally," Marcus grunted as he made his way in.

After setting Droop-a-Long down on the bed and making sure he was comfortable, Newly turned towards Marcus with a worried expression. "What is it, Marcus?" he asked.

"He's a coyote," Marcus replied. "Found 'im in a bag on the train. Calls himself Deputy Droop-a-Long."

"D-Deputy?!" Newly shouted. He turned back to look at Droop-a-Long, who had dozed off again, and then pushed Marcus out of the room. After closing the door, he turned back to Marcus, his dark blue eyes alight with anger. "Are ya outta your mind?! You brought a lawman here of all places?!"

"Well, it's not like I wanted ta bring him here, pea brain! I tried to leave the scene when the 'boss' ordered me to take him to the nearest place in town. You're lucky I didn't get busted!"

"With him here, we will! I say we off 'im while we still have the chance," Newly answered.

"Are you outta your mind? That'll only set the townspeople off," Marcus yelled. "We'll hang if we kill him."

Newly sighed, rubbing his temples. "Then what do we do with 'im?" he asked.

"We'll have to keep 'im here for now. 'sides...it looks like he's the deputy to another sheriff," he said. "And if he's missin', there could be a report of it somewhere."

Newly looked up at him, dawning comprehension on his face. "And there's a report out there, then the sheriff's lookin' for 'im." He smirked greedily. "There might be a big reward for bringin' him in alive."

Marcus clapped a hand on his shoulder. "See? I knew there was a reason for keepin' you around, Newly."

"Whaddya mean by that?!"

"Aw, I'm jus' kiddin' with ya, Newly. Well, mostly." Laughing at Newly's angry face, Marcus turned to head into the room. "You go ahead an' get the doc. I'll wait here with our...special guest."


Hoop 'n Holler

Sheriff Ricochet Rabbit's Office

The sun had set over Hoop 'n Holler, and with it came a darkness that nobody had ever seen before. Most people were putting their lanterns on early because of it.

For Ricochet, the darkness was symbolic. It was a dark day for the law. A horrendous crime had been committed, the criminals were still at large, a body had disappeared...and a friend had been robbed of his life. Ricochet sat in the darkness of his office, not moving or saying much of anything. Droop-a-Long's hat was still clutched tightly in his arms, as though it would crumble to dust if he let go of it.

Conflicting emotions filled his soul. He was utterly broken by what had happened to Droop-a-Long, but a part of him felt anger towards the coyote. If he had listened to his advice about not worrying about his being in jail, none of this would've happened. If he'd had the slightest inkling of what the coyote had tried to do, he would've stopped him before he got himself killed. Earlier, he'd imagined himself yelling at Droop-a-Long for almost putting himself in danger.

Just as quickly, his anger towards Droop-a-Long turned on him. He hadn't been able to protect the coyote like he'd promised himself he would. He should've heard the noises that the townspeople heard last night; he should've rushed to his deputy's aid. He should've been protecting Droop-a-Long from potential enemies, not the other way around. He should've died, not Droop-a-Long.

But he hadn't done any of those things. And now, Droop-a-Long was gone, in the most permanent way possible.

Sniffling, he said, "W-Wherever ya are now, Droop, I hope you're in a good place. I-If anythin', you deserve it for bein' so selfless." Willing himself to let go of the hat at last, he got down from his chair and went over to light the lantern in the corner of the room. It took a little fumbling, but he finally got it on. The office was soon bathed in orange yellow light, and he made his way to the stairs. His stomach was empty, but he didn't feel like eating at the moment. All he felt like doing was going to sleep.

No sooner had he reached the second floor than there was a knock on the wall. "Sheriff? Are ya in here?"

Ricochet suppressed a groan as he made his way down the stairs again. "Yeah, I am. Is there somethin' ya need?"

Standing on the porch was one of the men that he saw earlier when he came to the office. He was a little under average height, had light brown hair, and light green eyes. He wore a white and green plaid shirt with brown overalls. He looked somewhat sheepish standing in the doorway, as though he were breaking a law.

"Sorry to come in so late, Sheriff...I'm real sorry about what happened to Deputy Droop-a-Long," he said.

"Thanks," Ricochet said. He'd heard that sentence multiple times throughout the day and wanted nothing more than to stop hearing it. "He was my best friend."

"He was a good friend of mine, too," the man said. When Ricochet looked at him quizzically, he said, "A few years ago, there was that time you guys saved me from falling off a cliff and into a waterfall."

"That was mostly Droop-a-Long, though," Ricochet said. He smirked a little. "I was amazed he could swim that fast..."

"After that, I repaid him by giving him one of my ma's meat pastries," he said. "Occasionally, we'd talk, but...oh, geez, I'm sorry." He stopped upon seeing Ricochet start to tremble again. "I-I wasn't tryin' ta make you feel bad again..."

"I-It's alright," the rabbit replied. He balled his hands into a fist, willing himself to not cry again. "I-I'll be alright." He wiped his burning eyes and made his way over to the desk. Placing his deputy's hat on the ground for the time being, he sat in the chair and said, "Well, I-I bet you didn't come here jus' to remind me of what happened to Droop-a-Long."

"No, sir, I didn't." He cleared his throat. "But I just wanted to know if you were gonna take this up as a case."

"I told the mayor earlier that I'm not gonna take it up," Ricochet sighed.

"It's not jus' because this is a personal case, Sheriff. When I looked into this room earlier, I had a strange feelin'. Someone wanted him dead."

"I wonder what clued ya in: the bullet holes in the wall, or the pool o' blood on the floor," Ricochet replied bitterly.

"All I'm sayin', I think there's somethin' bigger goin' on, Sheriff. And I think gettin' rid of you and Droop-a-Long was part of it," the man said.

Ricochet groaned. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he answered.

"Maybe if ya looked back at the facts, Sheriff, it'll line up. I've been followin' this ever since Droop-a-Long showed up to Town Hall yesterday afternoon," he said. "And when I got the whole story, I got to thinkin' that."

"So, what are you tryin' ta say?" Ricochet asked.

"I'm tryin' ta say that you shouldn't give up yet, Sheriff. Can ya at least promise me that you'll think about it?"

Ricochet sighed and rubbed his temples. What he was really thinking about was saying several choice words to this guy, but he contained his anger for the time being. Looking up at the man, he said, "I never did get your name."

"Oh, uh, it's Jeb. Jeb Forrest."

"Well, Jeb, I ain't makin' a guarantee that I'll turn it into a case, but I'll keep that thought in mind," he said. "I've jus' got too much on my plate right now, so..."

"Oh, uh, right...sorry. I'll leave now if you want me to."

More than anything, Ricochet wanted him to. "You go on ahead, Jeb. Get some rest."

"You look like you could use it, Sheriff," Jeb replied. "Well, uh, good night."

Ricochet groaned as the man walked out. Jeb reminded him of his third deputy, Sherman, with how nervous he was around him until he got to speaking his mind. Quite frankly, he didn't know if he could trust him. After all, Droop-a-Long had never made any mention of him, so he couldn't be sure if he was even telling the truth about being his deputy's friend.

Then again, Droop-a-Long had never made any mention of Dave and Chuck, either.

As he made to go upstairs, however, he couldn't help but wonder. His arrest and Droop-a-Long's death had occurred on the same day...that didn't seem like a coincidence. He stopped in his tracks, mulling over that in his mind for a moment. The more he thought of it, the more Jeb's theory began to make sense. His right hand curled into a fist, and he started to tremble again, but this time not from sorrow.

"I can't believe it...how could I be so stupid?" he muttered. "I've gotta go find Jeb an' get him back in here!"

With a twirling of his foot, Ricochet shot out of the office. The gust of wind that followed caused the wooden planks on the floor, as well as his desk, to be ripped from the floor. The few people that were out and about gasped in surprise as Ricochet bounced off of the walls of the buildings, heading directly for the saloon. The doors burst open when he came in, and the rush of wind that followed made everyone turn to him in surprise.

"Hey, it's the sheriff!" someone called out.

"Listen folks, I'm lookin' for a fella named Jeb Forrest. Have any of ya seen 'im?" Ricochet asked.

Nobody answered for a moment. Right before Ricochet asked again, a hand slowly went up in the air. Everyone turned to face Jeb, who slowly climbed down from his chair and made his way to the middle.

"Y-You called me, Sheriff?" he asked.

"Yes. As it turns out...that stuff I called nonsense jus' made a whole lotta sense," Ricochet said.

"Whaddya mean by nonsense, Sheriff?" someone asked.

"Jeb here makes up a whole lotta that!" another said, and the whole saloon erupted into laughter. Jeb turned bright red in embarrassment.

"Guys, this is no laughin' matter!" Ricochet said. When everyone settled down, he turned to Jeb. "Jeb, you told me that someone was plannin' to get rid of me and Droop-a-Long. I didn't believe ya at first, but then I got to thinkin'...and realized that you were right. The timin's just uncanny. If I don't do somethin' soon, that same person will try to kill me, too."

"So, what are ya gonna do, Sheriff?" Jeb asked.

"I'm gonna take this up as a case," Ricochet said, "an' stop this plot dead in its tracks."

"B-But Sheriff...you're still, you know, d-dealin' with what happened to Droop-a-Long," Jeb asked. "Are ya sure you're gonna be alright?"

"I will be, Jeb. I...I still miss my deputy, but if there's one thing I won't do, that's lettin' a criminal get away. The person who killed Droop-a-Long won't get away with this," Ricochet said. He frowned as he slammed a fist into his palm. "That I'll make sure of."

"Now that's the sheriff we know!" one of the people called, and everyone cheered.

When the noise settled down, Ricochet said, "Alright, everyone. I'm startin' this case first thing tomorrow. After that, nothin's gonna stop me 'til I find the person who came up with this plan!"

"Good luck, Sheriff," Jeb said. "You're gonna need it if you're goin' after the fellers who did this."

He made his way to leave, but Ricochet's hand seized his wrist. "Not so fast, Jeb. You're comin' with me," he said.

"But I didn't do anything!"

"I didn't mean that as in you're goin' ta jail! I mean that you're comin' to help me on this case," Ricochet clarified.

Jeb stared at him with wide eyes. "You really want my help, Sheriff?" he asked.

"Since you're the only person who actually supported Droop-a-Long, I'll need it. Now come on. We've gotta get back to the office."

"Sure thing, Sheriff!"

The two left the saloon and things started to settle down at the saloon. Two minutes later, another man left the saloon, heading for the borders of town. His hands were balled into fists and his face was pale.

"I'm a dead man walkin' for tellin' them this," Zeb muttered.


At the county jail...

Dave was asleep when something hard hit the floor. Shooting to his feet, his hand instinctively reached for his gun, only to remember that he didn't have it. He looked up as Zeb made his way over to his cell. His expression was pained. That wasn't new to Dave. Zeb always looked like that, as though he were always worried about something. Still, he had to ask.

"What's goin' on, Zeb? I've already sent the check to your house; it should be there by tomorrow mornin'," he said.

"T-That's not why I'm here, Dave. You guys won't believe this, but...Ricochet's out of jail," Zeb said.

Dave stared at Zeb for a moment, his expression unchanging. A split second later, his hand thrust through the bars and seized the front of Zeb's shirt. He yanked him towards the bars, causing his head to collide with them. Zeb stifled a cry of pain as he looked at the furious Dave.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?!" he snarled. His glare could have killed Death itself.

"I-I...R-Ricochet's outta jail. I-I guess they shortened his sentence or somethin', but he's back in office and he's gunnin' for the people who got the deputy," Zeb stammered.

"And you were gonna tell me this when?!"

"T-Tomorrow...but I was afraid he'd get to ya f-first," Zeb said. He swallowed. "P-Please don't kill me, Dave."

"Oh, I won't...not yet, at least." Dave shoved Zeb backwards, ripping off a part of his shirt. "What did you do to Droop-a-Long, anyway? For once, I hope your conscience kicked in, 'cause if you killed 'im, Ricochet's gonna come gunnin' for ya an' there's nothin' I can do about it."

"I-I didn't kill 'im. I told Paul an' the others to beat 'im up. After that, I told them to get a sack, put him in it, an' store him on a train that was comin' in," Zeb said. "Nobody even saw us."

"He was still alive when ya put him in there, right?"

Zeb nodded, and then shuddered. "I still remember his breathin'..."

"Well, he's as good as dead by now," Dave answered. He chuckled. "Boy, won't the sheriff get his ears in a twist over this."

"He won't. I was thinkin' of takin' the boys with me to make sure that that coyote really is gone. That train must've been on its way to Youngsville."

"That'll be a long ride. You'd better get outta town, before the sheriff finds out what you've done. He may be a bit crazy with all his 'ping-ping-pinging', but he's scary smart," Dave said.

"When are you gettin' out of jail, Dave?"

Dave chuckled. "That is a good question. And I believe I've found my answer," he said, looking at Zeb. "There's one more job I want ya ta do for me before you an' the others head up to Youngsville."

"And what's that?"

"I want ya to do the same thing that that dumb deputy did, and that's ta get me an early release," Dave said. "And if the mayor gives ya any problems, well...ya know what to do."

Zeb nodded. "Got it."


Ricochet awoke with a start, shooting out of bed like an arrow. He was hot, sweating bullets and a pit of anxiety was forming at the base of his stomach. It was a sensation he had rarely unless something was really wrong, as he hardly ever got anxious. But he didn't understand what could be wrong. After all, it'd been quiet when he'd finally dozed off. Surely Droop-a-Long was keeping things together, wasn't he?

He tried to calm himself down, and was about to settle back into the covers when his ears picked up the sound of a pained scream. He looked outside, and saw that nearly all of the lights in town were coming on.

"What in the blue blazes is goin' on?" the warden muttered, stumbling over to the front door. "Who'd be screamin' at this time of night?"

Once again, anxiety flooded Ricochet's senses. Something was horribly wrong, and nobody was putting a stop to it. Droop-a-Long wasn't putting a stop to it. When he got out of here, he'd have some questions to ask his deputy about this.

Another scream tore through the air. Ricochet gripped the sheets on his bed, anger coursing through him. What was that coyote doing? As deputy sheriff, it was his duty to investigate a problem, especially one such as this! Nearly all of the townspeople were outside, some trying to find the source of the disturbace. Droop-a-Long should've been doing that, not sleeping like a log in the office, Ricochet thought angrily.

A louder, agonizing scream tore filled his ears then, followed by the horrified gasps of the townspeople. And then, horror the likes of which he'd never felt before filled his soul. His eyes widened as he turned towards the window, praying that his suspicion was wrong.

The wave of townspeople made their way to the sheriff's office. A few of them jumped back in terror, and a lone gunshot filled the air. A man dropped dead moments later, and the people took off running, screaming in terror.

Ricochet's hands grasped the bars, and he began to tug at them fiercely, his muscles screaming as he did so. The shaking alerted the warden, and he ran over to the cell, watching in shock as he continued to pull at the bars. "What do you think you're doin'? You can't get out that way!" he shouted. "You can't get outta here at all!"

"I've gotta get outta here!" Ricochet grunted, pulling at the bars again. His arms felt like they were on fire, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. "I've…gotta…see…"

"Ricochet, you're insane if you think I'll let ya do this!"

Ricochet's response was a loud grunt as he pulled at the bars with all his might, his face turning red with exertion. The warden started to say something else when a loud snap was heard. He stared in shock as the bars tore themselves completely from the window, and Ricochet flung backwards and slammed against the cell door, groaning in pain.

After a long moment of standing in dumbfounded confusion, the warden started with, "R-Ricochet, what in the Sam Hill-"

"No time…" Ricochet breathed out, stumbling to his feet. "Gotta…get there in time…"

"Ricochet, if you go out there, you're gonna spend more time in jail!"

Ricochet turned towards him, his expression fierce. "An' if I don't, my best friend is gonna spend eternity in a grave!" he snapped. He ran towards his bed, and started to climb out the window.

"RICOCHET, STOP!" the warden yelled, but Ricochet jumped out of the window, regardless.

As soon as he hit the ground, Ricochet was gone, flying through the desert at breakneck speeds. Lines of cacti bent at a forward angle, and those who were standing outside were almost dragged along with the rush of powerful wind that he'd started up.

Two men were on the porch of the sheriff's office, standing at attention, their rifles at their sides. One of them saw him, and raised their rifles to fire. Ricochet dodged the bullets with the grace of a gymnast, and leaped into the air a few inches away from the stairs. The man had no time to react before Ricochet's foot slammed into the man's face, sending him crashing to the ground.

Ricochet landed on the ground hard, and it was then that the man behind him ran towards him, his hands outstretched. He swung his foot again, catching him below his waist. The man let out a small scream of pain, falling to his knees and Ricochet took the opportunity to send him flying off the railing with a punch to the face. Just like his partner, he went spinning off of the porch and into the street.

A scream came from inside the office, and Ricochet turned towards the door, his glare fierce. With all the strength he had, he kicked open the door, sending it crashing against the wall.

In the middle of the office were four men, all of them holding clubs and other weapons. All of their weapons and their faces were spattered with blood. Droop-a-Long was in the center of the group, his head buried in a pool of his own blood. His arms and legs were bent at unnatural angles, and horrific gashes were lined all across his body, leaking blood. His chest rose and fell as he took sharp, short breaths. Droop-a-Long's finger twitched, and a small groan escaped his lips.

Aside from Droop-a-Long's shallow breathing, dead silence filled the office. All eyes were currently on Ricochet, who looked like a bomb about to explode. Some of the men backed away in terror, fear in their eyes. One of the men stared at him, paralyzed with fear, while the leader of the gang sneered cruelly and lifted Droop-a-Long up from the floor by the scruff of his neck. Blood dripped from Droop-a-Long's snout onto the floor.

"Well, well, well," the man sneered. "Look who came to yer rescue, Deputy. It's your old pal, Ricochet."

Groaning, Droop-a-Long looked up at the sheriff then. His pink fur had gone a dark red due to the blood having seeped into it, and his right eye was swollen shut and the other red with tears. His eye widened in relief when he saw Ricochet.

"M-Mr. Ricochet...t-thank goodness..." he breathed, his voice small and hoarse.

"Step away from my deputy, this instant." Ricochet's tone was venomous, and his glare could have killed a legion of people and then some. "An' that's not a request, neither."

The man holding Droop-a-Long smirked cruelly. "I would, but you ain't the sheriff anymore, Ricochet!" he said. "Guess that leaves me free to do what I want."

"P-Please...let go..." Droop-a-Long said.

The man's smirk widened. "Not a chance." He then slammed Droop-a-Long's face into the floorboards, cracking them with the force and forcing another tortured scream from Droop-a-Long.

Ricochet lunged, but it was then that hands seized his arms. The men he'd knocked out earlier had his arms and legs, and were keeping a tight grip on him. He couldn't break free, no matter how hard he tried. Sneering, the man who had Droop-a-Long's face buried in the floor motioned to his teammates, who surrounded him in a circle.

"P-Please..." Droop-a-Long pleaded weakly. "D-Don't-"

His tormentor answered his plea with a brutal blow to his back, making him gasp in pain. The other men quickly followed suit, and Droop-a-Long's screams of anguish filled the office again.

"L-Let 'im go!" Ricochet screamed, twisting and pulling as hard as he could.

"Make us!" Droop-a-Long's tormentor sneered, and delivered another brutal hit. Droop-a-Long's scream of agony only made Ricochet even more restless.

The men holding Ricochet laughed at his struggle to break free. His eyes briefly settled on Droop-a-Long, and they widened in horror as the outlaws continued to reduce him to a bloody mess. His arms and legs were bent at impossible angles, and his face was buried in the floor. His body shuddered with every ragged breath he took.

"Droop-a-Long!" Ricochet yelled, and he felt his eyes burn with tears.

At that, the outlaws stopped, and everyone except their leader moved away from the scene. Their faces were covered with Droop-a-Long's blood. Droop-a-Long still lay on the floor shuddering, gasping for air.

"D-Don't..." Ricochet choked out. The tears were starting to fall from his eyes now. "H-He didn't do n-nothin' to deserve this! Don't kill 'im!"

"Wow. I finally found the one thing that can make Ricochet Rabbit break," the leader mused. He looked down at Droop-a-Long, who was trying to move by pushing himself up on his broken arms. "Any last words, Deputy Droop-a-Long?"

Droop-a-Long lifted his head at last, and the sight was awful. Ricochet felt his blood freeze as he looked at his best friend, who looked at him with fear and desperation. He opened his mouth, but he retched, and the only thing that spilled out of it was spit and blood.

Ricochet trembled. "D-Droop..." He's dyin', he thought. My best friend is dyin' right in front of me and I can't do anythin' to save him...

"Well?" the leader demanded, glaring at the coyote.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Droop-a-Long looked at Ricochet, his other eye becoming redder with tears. "M-M...Mister...Rico-"

"Took too long." The leader of the outlaws readied his club.

"NO, DON'T!" Ricochet screamed, but it was too late.

The club struck Droop-a-Long's head like a bolt of lightning. The coyote hit the floor hard, his eyes rolling into his head as he did so. His fingers twitched briefly before they stopped moving altogether.

Ricochet couldn't bring himself to say anything, or even scream. Horror the likes of which he'd never felt before had closed up his throat, stealing his voice. He stared at the scene before him, watching as the men wiped their faces off with their handkerchiefs.

"Well, that finished 'im. Useless deputy was a waste of time," the man snarled.

"Well, at least he's outta our hair," another said. "Don't know why the sheriff was tryin' to protect 'im."

Ricochet shuddered violently. The men holding him laughed. "Aw, look, Ricochet's gettin' upset. But he can't do nothin' once we turn 'im loose," they said.

"I'll kill you." Ricochet's voice had returned, and his tone was vengeful. He glared at the leader of the outlaws as he tried to wrench out his captors' grip. "I swear, I'll make you regret killin' Droop-a-Long!"

"No, you won't!" The men flung him backwards, and Ricochet found himself tumbling to the ground. The men laughed at him and prepared to close the door.

He spit out the sand that had come up in his throat, and he got to his feet, adrenaline and rage coursing through his veins. He flew up the steps and flung the door open again, this time sending it flying off its hinges and crashing against the wall. He stood in front of the outlaws, his expression full of furious sorrow as he drew his gun.

"You..." He all but spat the word. "I'll-"

"You can't avenge your friend, Sheriff," the man said, his sneer cruel and mocking. "How can someone who broke his word avenge his best friend?"

Ricochet's gun arm trembled. "Shut up!"

"Kinda twisted when ya think about it, right?" he said. "You failed in keepin' your word, Sheriff. An' you're gonna have to live with that for the rest of your life."

Ricochet stopped, the man's words stopping him cold and forcing all his emotions against him. He looked down at Droop-a-Long's body, focusing on his wounds, his broken bones. He remembered Droop-a-Long's fingers twitching before they'd lost life in them completely. His gun arm trembled again, this time not out of rage.

Droop-a-Long had died horribly, right in front of his eyes, and he'd done nothing to stop it. His best friend had suffered horribly all because he couldn't keep his word to protect him from people like these murderers. Even avenging him would do nothing to change the fact that he'd failed.

Ricochet started back in horror. The man laughed, and was soon right in front of him, the bloodied club in his hands. "Too late, Sheriff!" he sneered, and swung down...

Ricochet burst out of bed, choking on a scream. His heart was thundering in his chest, and sweat clung to the skin under his fur. He hung over, heaving short, sharp breaths one after the other. After a few moments, he managed to get his heart rate and breathing back to normal, although he still felt lightheaded. He looked over at his alarm clock and frowned. No wonder he felt lightheaded-he'd only gone to sleep a few hours before. He took a look out the window, and saw that the sun was shining brightly through the curtains.

He held his head in his hands, tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. He knew it was nothing more than a nightmare, but he hardly if ever had those, and very rarely did those nightmares involve his loved ones. And even if they were about those he loved, they were never as gruesomely detailed as the one he'd just had.

He shuddered as his mind came up with the reason as to why. His nightmare was more than that.

That must've been how Droop-a-Long died. It must've been awful, sufferin' like that an' nobody was there to stop it...The tremors ran up and down his arms, and he struggled to not cry. I wasn't there to stop it...

Someone knocked on his door, causing him to jolt. "Hey, uh...Sheriff Ricochet?" Jeb's voice came tentatively from the other side. "Are ya awake?"

"Uh, y-yeah, I am," Ricochet said, wiping his eyes and trying to keep the tears out of his voice. "What's goin' on, Jeb?"

"I jus' wanted to let you know I made breakfast for ya," Jeb said. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice. "I'll be downstairs if ya need anythin'."

"That's right nice of ya to do so, thanks," Ricochet said. "Give me ten minutes an' I'll be down thar."

"Okay, Sheriff!" Jeb replied. He then went down the stairs, his cowboy boots clacking loudly on the wooden floor.

Ricochet swung himself over the bed, making his way to the washroom. Tears pricked at his eyes again and he swiped at them again, biting back a curse. "I-I sure hope I won't need more than ten minutes ta pull myself together..."


"...I mean, the last thing I expected was to be hired as a temporary deputy 'til we find out what happened to Droop-a-Long."

"Right."

"I consider it an honor, Sheriff. I mean, it's always an honor to work alongside a hero."

"Shucks, well, it's nothin'."

"Nothin'? Sheriff, I would've been stuck in the farmyard for the rest of my life!" Jeb said.

Ricochet nodded absentmindedly as he stirred up his coffee. He'd had to take his black today; there wasn't any more cream or sugar when he'd went in the kitchen. He guessed that Droop-a-Long had used up the rest of it yesterday, something he would've been surprised by if he weren't in dire need of it. His lack of sleep was apparent to anybody who saw him-Jeb had asked if he'd slept well, and Ricochet had told him that it was mostly because of his initiating Jeb as his junior deputy. He had no intention of telling his new junior deputy about his nightmare; the last thing he wanted was Jeb asking if he was alright.

He would've been fine to have a day alone to think, but his junior deputy was also a morning person, not to mention a chatterbox. Ricochet knew he had no real reason to be upset with Jeb. He was friendly enough, liked telling jokes, and wanted to do his best at his new job. And he'd tried to cheer him up when he'd seen how down he was. In other words, he was somewhat like Droop-a-Long, only that he was far more extroverted.

Perhaps that was the problem. Jeb reminded him a bit too much of Droop-a-Long, which was something he didn't want right then. It still hurt to think about him, much less mention him without crying. Even if he did find the killer, it wouldn't change the fact that he would never see Droop-a-Long again, that he'd failed in protecting him.

You failed. Those words echoed through his mind. You're not supposed to fail. But you failed to see your best friend's suffering. You failed to keep your promise. You failed to see the bigger picture, and now you're paying for it like Droop-a-Long did.

You failed...

"Sheriff? Sheriff, what's wrong? You're crying!"

Jeb's words brought Ricochet back to reality. He felt wetness against his cheeks and his eyes started to blur over again. Sighing, he hurriedly wiped his eyes and fought to regain control. "S-Sorry about that, Jeb...t-there's nothin' to worry about," he said. "I-I'm fine..."

He heard the scraping of a chair and footsteps. "Sheriff, you're not alright. I-If it was somethin' I said, I'm sorry," Jeb replied. "I didn't mean to remind ya of Deputy Droop-a-Long..."

Something in Ricochet snapped at that. He gave Jeb such a fierce look that the man stepped back a bit. "A-And yet, ya do, anyway! A-Almost everythin' you do reminds me of him!" he shouted. "You're nice like 'im, ya make t-the strangest jokes like 'im, you're always a-apologizin' like he did, and...y-yer jus' too nice for your own good like he was!" He slammed his fist on the table, only for his hand to collide with a splinter. He yelped in pain and grasped his hand, covering the wound with his other hand.

"Sheriff!" Jeb got down on his knees to get to the sheriff's eye level. When he saw Ricochet's bloodied hand, he reached out for it. "Sheriff, please let me help-"

"You've helped enough!" Ricochet snapped, smacking Jeb's hand away. "And I don't need it now!"

"Sheriff..."

Dead silence filled the room for a good few moments. Jeb looked down at the ground, dejected, while Ricochet glared at his injury with a teary, angry expression. Jeb sighed as he took off his hat.

"Look, Sheriff...I-I'm sorry. I reckon I was a bit inconsiderate."

Ricochet remained silent, still cradling his injury.

"I mean, y-yesterday, you did lose your deputy..."

"Droop-a-Long was not jus' my deputy," Ricochet said finally. "Y-You jus' don't understand...Droop-a-Long was my best friend as well as my deputy."

"But how did ya even get to be best friends? Since, you know, you're you, and Droop-a-Long was...well, Droop-a-Long." Jeb laughed a little, but it quickly fell short.

Ricochet sighed as he looked at Jeb at last. He looked so sad that Jeb was tempted to give him a hug, but he wasn't sure how such an action would sit with him. Ricochet's eyes focused on Droop-a-Long's hat, and he got down from the chair and scooped it up before sitting back in his chair.

"W-When I first met Droop-a-Long, I didn't like coyotes a bit. So you can guess how I reacted to him when I first met 'im. I'd gone to his town ta find a deputy, hopefully a rabbit like me. But I ended up leavin' Droop's town with him as my deputy. He'd saved my life, but more importantly, he'd been nice to me. H-He had every right to be jus' as mean to me as I was to 'im, and yet he still reached out ta me. He'd shown me that not all coyotes are jus' mindless monsters."

Ricochet chuckled slightly at the memory of his first year working with Droop-a-Long. "Of course, h-he got on my nerves m-more than any other deputy I've ever had, and we've argued a lot, too. There were times where I wanted ta fire 'im. But the longer we worked together, the longer I got used to 'im. And the longer I got used to 'im, the more I hated the idea of lettin' him leave. I-I didn't realize how much I needed him 'round here 'til yesterday. A-And I realized that even if I got another deputy, n-no one would ever fit like Droop-a-Long had. Nobody could replace him."

Jeb sat there for a moment, staring at the sheriff with wide eyes. "Did...did you think I was trying to replace him?" he asked.

"Well...t-the thought was there, anyhow," Ricochet said. "I-It's part of the reason I didn't wanna hire ya..."

"Y-You mean...you weren't plannin' on makin' me your junior deputy at first?"

"A-A lot of people have been clamorin' to be my deputy. But I can't jus' grab some feller off the street an' make him one. Most of them are in it 'cause they wanna be popular, like me. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's showboaters."

"Kinda funny ya say that, Sheriff."

"And why's that?"

"You kinda tend to do that yourself."

Ricochet sent a small glare at Jeb, and Jeb raised his hands in surrender. "I-I'm not sayin' you show off like you're the greatest thing alive, Sheriff. It's jus' that you do get a lil' bit cocky sometimes..."

"Oh, and I reckon you're an expert on me all of a sudden, eh?" Ricochet said.

"N-No, it's not that, Sheriff, I...I was jus' pointin' it out..."

Ricochet sighed. "Well, it runs in the family, I reckon. Us Ricochets are a bit proud of our achievements," he said. "Droop-a-Long told me once that I sounded like a brass horn in a marchin' band."

Jeb laughed. "When did he say that?"

"Durin' one of our arguments, I think. Droop wasn't one to get angry, but ya would've been surprised to hear what came outta his mouth when he was riled up," Ricochet said. He sighed, and his ears flopped downwards. "Dag nabit, I miss 'im..."

Jeb's eyes became downcast. "I miss 'im, too. He was one o' my friends, an' I think that happened to 'im was awful..."

"H-How do I know you're tellin' the truth?"

"About what? Bein' Droop-a-Long's friend?" Jeb asked.

Ricochet nodded. "He never mentioned you," he said.

Jeb said, "Not long after that waterfall incident, I ran into him at the saloon, lookin' kinda bored. I'd come by the office lookin' for 'im 'cause of those meat pastries, but it was empty. When I saw him, I decided to tell a joke to cheer him up. He thanked me for helping him feel better an' told me that he was supposed ta meet ya for a case, but...well, he'd ricocheted into the saloon by accident an' was gettin' a pick me up. I was jus' gonna give him the pastries an' go, but we got to talkin', and then I showed him how ta play pool. After that, we'd talk whenever I was in town ta get groceries."

"So that's why sometimes Droop-a-Long was gone for hours..." Ricochet mused.

"Yeah, I guess so. We weren't close like you an' him were, but I knew he'd never do somethin' like trick you into fightin' his enemies. He was nice an' always ready to help out," Jeb replied. "That's why I'm here to defend him, an' to help get justice for 'im."

"T-The only reason folks are startin' to defend him now is 'cause he's dead," Ricochet said. "You ain't supposed to speak ill will of a dead person..."

"Sheriff, hear me out for a moment, please," Jeb pleaded. "What I'm sayin' is the absolute truth."

Ricochet looked up at Jeb, his expression skeptical, but he didn't say anything else.

"Sheriff, when I came here, I didn't come here seekin' Droop-a-Long's job. On top of bein' jus' greedy, that's jus' disrespectful. Some feller can take his job, but nobody could replace Droop-a-Long. And I promise you, I ain't tryin' ta take his place as your deputy, or as your best friend. I came here to help you out, 'cause Droop-a-Long was my friend, too, an' I think it's wrong that the people who did this got away with it," Jeb said. "Plus...I didn't want ya to give up on him yet."

"But Jeb-"

"Sheriff, if Droop-a-Long decided to give up in gettin' ya out of jail, you wouldn't be here right now. If ya give up, it'll give the fellas who did this to him the freedom to run free," Jeb said. His gaze was determined as he looked at Ricochet. "As a friend of Droop-a-Long's, I can say with confidence that he'd never give up on somethin'. And this whole town admires ya. I admire ya. And we know that you'd never give up on a case, especially with dangerous outlaws like these. If Droop-a-Long didn't give up on ya, then you shouldn't give up on him, Sheriff. The Ricochet Rabbit we know never let somethin' like this slide."

Once again, total silence filled the office. Ricochet stared at Jeb, the skepticism wiped from his face. Upon seeing the rabbit's look of utter shock, Jeb's confidence faltered and he pulled at his neckerchief nervously. "O-Oh, shucks, I-I'm sorry, Sheriff...I-I reckon I got a little caught up with my spee-"

"You're right." Ricochet's soft reply caught Jeb off-guard. He looked at Ricochet, who was rubbing his head and laughing softly to himself. "You're absolutely right. D-Droop-a-Long didn't give up. H-He almost did, but I talked him outta it. An' now, the same thin's happenin' to me..."

"Uh, Sheriff?" Jeb asked worriedly. "Are ya alright?"

"I-I'm better than alright." Ricochet wiped his eyes. "I-I guess I judged ya too fast, Jeb. Shucks, I'm so sorry for what I said. I-I-"

"Say no more, Sheriff. I gets it. You're still missin' your best friend. And then some feller who says that he's friends with 'im jumps in and tries to help out," Jeb interrupted. "If I were in your shoes, Sheriff, I'd probably blow up, too."

"Even so, y-you were tryin' ta help me feel better an' take my mind offa things. I never shoulda yelled at you like that, even if I was blowin' off some steam. I'm mighty sorry, Jeb. C-Can ya forgive me?"

Jeb smiled a little. "There's nothin' to forgive, Sheriff. And I'm sorry, too. I reminded ya too much of Droop-a-Long when I was talkin' and I didn't even notice. I-I can't blame ya if you want me off the case, or if ya wanna fire me..."

"No...Jeb, I don't want ya off the case," Ricochet said. "I need your help. As much as I'd like to, I can't do this on my own. I need someone to help me in case them fellers prove too difficult."

"Too difficult for you, Sheriff? I doubt it."

Ricochet tried and failed to keep a smile from coming on his face. "Thanks, Jeb," he said. "But more importantly, I need someone to rein me in so I don't do anythin' stupid when I find 'em. And trust me, when I do, I ain't gonna be all calm. Droop-a-Long used to get scared of my temper for a reason."

"Yeah, he told me a few times 'bout how scary you are when you're mad. I'd hate to be the fellers who did do this."

"You took the words right outta my mouth," Ricochet said. He got up from his chair. "Well, I'd better go ahead an' get started with lookin' for more clues."

"Whaddya want me to do?" Jeb asked.

"Well, I could use a little help with tidyin' up this place," Ricochet said. "I was gonna do it myself, but I was too distracted."

Jeb smiled as he stood up. "Don't worry, Sheriff. By the time you come back from your clue hunt, this office will be spic an' span," he said.

"I appreciate that, Jeb," Ricochet said. He paused, and then added, "Oh, and...thanks for tryin' ta keep my mind off things. I mean it, thanks a lot."

Jeb, who had been getting the plates, looked up at Ricochet. His smile widened. "You're welcome, Sheriff."


Marcus McCloud's Base of Operations

Havenport

Pain filled Droop-a-Long's senses as he slowly opened his eyes. For a frightening moment, he thought he'd gone blind; the room was dark, and with his foggy vision, he couldn't tell where he was. A few seconds later, his vision began to refocus, and he blinked a few more times to get the blurriness out of his eyes. When he could finally see again, he found himself looking up at the ceiling. Voices could be heard outside, mostly muffled, although he could've sworn that someone was yelling.

He felt the coolness of sheets under him, as well as the rough material of a blanket being draped over him. He attempted to sit up, only to immediately give up on that idea. His entire left side was on fire, and he thought he felt his ribs shift painfully in that area. He looked at his paws, and saw that they were bandaged from his fingertips to his elbow. Moving the covers, he saw he was also heavily bandaged there as well. He wouldn't be able to move around for a long time, but it was much better than the alternative, which was being dead and trapped in a sack somewhere.

His mind drifted. He remembered bits and pieces of the beating those men had given him, but everything else was a blur. He guessed they had stuffed him in a bag and thrown him on a train, hoping he'd either bleed to death from his injuries or suffocate. That last one had nearly happened when he'd come to his senses, and the lack of oxygen had made him panic. He didn't know where he was, or who had taken him in. A face flashed in his mind, an annoyed one at that...but that could've been anybody. He only hoped that he was in safe hands.

He was just starting to relax when he heard the door open, and light flooded in. He looked up briefly upon hearing the heavy thud of boots hitting the ground. An average-sized man came in, a shock of raven hair combed to the side, and looking down at Droop-a-Long with amber eyes. He looked irritated, which made Droop-a-Long guess that he was the one who'd been yelling.

"So, you're awake," he said by way of greeting. "I take it we woke ya, huh?"

"Uh...I-I kinda woke up on my own," Droop-a-Long answered. He coughed a little to clear his throat. "D-Do ya know where I am?"

"You're in Havenport," he said. "An' we found you stuffed inside a bag, bloody and with lotsa broken bones."

"Ugh...that makes sense why I'd have all these here bandages on," Droop-a-Long said. "I'm much obliged for yer care, Mr..."

"Oh, it's Marcus. Marcus McCloud. But it's just McCloud to you," he said.

"Okay, then, Mr. McCloud," Droop-a-Long said. "I have ta thank ya for helpin' me out. I don' remember much after gettin' the stuffin' beat outta me..."

"What did you do to get a beatin' like that?" Marcus asked.

"Well...I-I made some folks back home mighty angry at me," Droop-a-Long answered.

Marcus scoffed. "Comes with bein' the lawman," he muttered.

Droop-a-Long sighed. "Figured that out the hard way," he said.

"Anyways, the doc came by last night an' worked his butt off tryin' ta keep you alive. He told us that we've gotta keep you here 'til you can move. An' apparently, that's gonna take a while."

"How long's a while?"

"Try several weeks to about a month or two."

"Oh, man...Mr. Ricochet's gonna be so worried an' angry when he finds out about this..."

Marcus blinked. "Wait, did you just say Ricochet?"

"Yeah. I'm the deputy to Sheriff Ricochet Rabbit, back in Hoop 'n Holler," Droop-a-Long said.

Marcus stared at him for a few moments more, and then shook his head as though waking from a dream. "Well, uh...that's gonna make you right popular 'round these parts. Ain't nobody 'round here that hasn't heard of Ricochet Rabbit."

"He's the fastest Sheriff in all the West," Droop-a-Long added. "Makes sense he'd be popular."

"Well, iffin' Ricochet's jus' as worried as you say he is, I reckon I should try an' send a message out ta Hoop 'n Holler," Marcus said.

"C-Can ya do that right now? I'd like the sheriff ta know I'm okay," Droop-a-Long said.

"I would, but I've gotta get to work," Marcus said. "Afterwards, I'll stop by the office an' ask for someone to send a message."

A small smile came on Droop-a-Long's face. Finally, this nightmare would be over soon. "Thank ya kindly, Mr. McCloud. I'm lucky that someone like you found me."

Marcus paused, and then offered a small chuckle. "You're welcome. And ta be honest, I feel kinda lucky to have found ya when I did, too." He made his way out of the room. "My friend Newly's still here, so if ya need anythin', call him. But fer now, you get your rest, alright?"

"Sure thing, Mr. McCloud," Droop-a-Long said.

As the room was enclosed in darkness again, Droop-a-Long sighed. "I sure hope Mr. Ricochet isn't sick with worry over what happened to me..."


Newly was outside when Marcus exited the house. The dark haired man looked up at him as he stepped onto the porch. "So, any news, Marcus?" he asked.

Marcus sighed, and then in a flat voice, told him everything that Droop-a-Long had told him. When he was done, Newly was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Holy moly...he's the deputy to the Ricochet Rabbit?" Newly exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "We're in for it if we even think of killin' him."

"I know, which is why I said we ain't gonna kill 'im at all. We're gonna fix 'im up an' make sure he's ready when we do call the sheriff down here," Marcus said. "If he learns we've been tendin' to him, we'll get an even bigger paycheck."

"But what if he learns what we're doin'?" Newly asked.

"He's not gonna do anythin' to us. After all, this ain't his town. Only the sheriff of this town can make arrests," Marcus answered. He smirked. "An' if he's offerin' a reward for what happened to his deputy, we'll be rollin' in the dough."

Newly sighed. "I jus' hope you know what you're gettin' yourself into with that coyote, Marcus. He looks like trouble."

"Trouble? Are ya kiddin' me?" Marcus laughed. "He thanked me for saving him. Says that he's lucky that I found him. An' I told him I'm lucky for findin' him, too...for reasons he'll never find out."

"So, are ya off ta get more shipments from the train?" Newly asked.

"Of course. It's my 'job', after all. You take care of Droop-a-Long 'til I get back," Marcus said, stepping off the porch.

"Jus' hope that you don't get any live surprises this time 'round," Newly called.

"Oh, trust me, I've got my gun to take care of that," Marcus replied.


Hoop 'n Holler

Town Hall

Unsurprisingly, Town Hall was in an uproar when Ricochet made his way inside. It was a fairly occurring sight, in Hoop 'n Holler at least, so Ricochet had no real trouble getting past the mob. After all, he'd done it a million times before. And the mob wasn't who he wanted to see right then.

He made his way up the stairs, made a left, and found himself standing outside of Mayor Nuggets' office. Knocking a few times, he said, "J.P., it's me. Your secretary told me that you'd be busy, but I need ta speak to ya-"

His ears picked up a low, painful groan. Ricochet tensed, and then knocked on the door again. "J.P.? Are ya alright?" he asked.

Another groan, this time, right by the door. Ricochet tried the handle, and found that it was locked. "Dagnabit!" He stepped back so he could force the door down, only to hear the fumbling of a lock. Carefully making his way to the door, he opened it-

J.P. Nuggets fell onto his shoulder, groaning in pain. Ricochet gasped as he saw the bloody gash on the back of the man's head. "J.P.! What happened to ya?!" he asked.

"Ugh...robbers...broke in...bashed me..."

"Hang on, J.P.!" Ricochet dragged the mayor back inside his office, which looked like a whirlwind had tore through the place. Papers were scattered everywhere, furniture had been overturned, and bullet holes were all over the walls. A pen stuck out of the wall like an arrow. And on the floor next to the desk was a bloodied, broken bust of the mayor himself.

Ricochet did his best to not tighten his grip on the half-conscious mayor. The same people who'd killed Droop-a-Long had attempted to assassinate the mayor as well. Setting the mayor against the overturned couch, he said, "Stay there, J.P. I'm goin' back downstairs ta get help!"

With a twirling of his foot, he raced down the steps, a trail of papers following him. He screeched to a halt in front of a pair of security guards, who glared down at him menacingly.

"What're you doin' up there?!" one of them demanded.

"There's no time to explain, fellas! J.P. Nuggets is hurt!" Ricochet explained breathlessly.

A chorus of shocked gasps filled the air. The guards ran up the stairs, almost bowling Ricochet over as they did so. As they raced up the steps, one of them turned around to shout, "Call a doctor, Sheriff! And I mean quick!"

"You don't have to tell me twice!" Ricochet said. He burst out of Town Hall, the force of his takeoff knocking people down and causing a few marble tiles to be ripped from the floor. He paid neither any mind as he raced to the doctor's office.

Whoever did this is gonna get it, he thought.


It would be a several hours before order was restored in town. Word of the assassination attempt spread like wildfire, and people were demanding answers. J.P. Nuggets, in his injured state, had tried to explain that someone had broken into the office and made some ridiculous demands, but he couldn't remember what the demand was. The doctor told all reporters to hold off on questions until the mayor was fully treated.

Ricochet stood outside of the room where J.P. was being treated, doing his best to ignore the shouts from outside. He and a few of the guards, as well as J.P.'s secretary, had been allowed inside the office, as they were the ones who the mayor deemed close enough to stay. Ricochet drummed his fingers impatiently on his elbow, and uncrossed his left leg for the fifth time in thirty minutes. The guards stood stonefaced next to J.P.'s door, while his secretary paced about nervously, biting her nails.

First I get put in jail, then Droop-a-Long gets offed, and now someone tries ta off J.P., too? This is gettin' outta hand...

The door to J.P.'s room opened, and the doctor peeked his head out. "Uh, Sheriff? J.P. would like ta see you first," he said.

Ricochet nodded and made his way inside. "Don't worry, everyone. I'll get some answers from the mayor an' figure out who did this to 'im," he said.

The scent of disinfectant was strong to the point where he almost gagged. He looked at the mayor, who was laying in bed, his head wrapped in bandages. His right arm was also wrapped up in a cast. J.P.'s gold eyes were solemn as he looked at Ricochet.

"Well...this isn't how I planned on spendin' my afternoon," he said, smiling a little. It dropped when he saw the concerned look on Ricochet's face. Clearing his throat, he asked, "You alright?"

"I'm managin' as much as I can," Ricochet answered. "But this ain't about me, J.P. I wanna know what happened to ya an' why someone did this to you."

"Hmmm..." J.P.'s eyebrows narrowed. "This mornin', I was sittin' at my desk and workin' on paperwork when two men kicked my door down. I barely got out of the chair before they started shootin'. One of 'em was demandin' that I give his boss release papers. When I said I didn't have any, he started overturnin' my furniture and throwin' things outta desks. I tried to stop him, but that was when the other man, the one who was shootin', hurled a pen at me. It almost hit me in the eye!"

Ricochet remembered the pen, and winced at J.P.'s description. "Go on..."

"The one who'd torn my office apart an' ripped out papers demanded me to give 'em the release papers or they were gonna kill me. So...I grabbed the papers out of my desk an' I started to sign it, but then I realized I didn't know who their boss was. So I asked them. And when they told me, I was so horrified that I hesitated. The shooter took that chance to jump me."

"Who was their boss?" Ricochet asked.

J.P. sighed and then told him.

Ricochet's hand balled into a fist. "Those scoundrels," he snarled venomously. "I can't believe I didn't notice that!"

"Neither did I. But Droop-a-Long may have been right in thinking they were gonna get revenge on the pair of ya," J.P. replied. "D-Do ya think-"

"That they're the ones who killed Droop-a-Long?" Ricochet finished. His eyes were narrowing. "I'm more than sure of it."

J.P. was wary of the anger in Ricochet's eyes. "N-Now Ricochet, I wouldn't do anythin' hasty if I was you," he said. "I-I get that you're angry, but-"

"I know what you're goin' to say, J.P." Ricochet sighed, and then looked back up at the mayor. His expression had relaxed, but barely. "And trust me, my junior deputy told me that, too. But-"

"Wait, you have a junior deputy now?" J.P. interrupted.

"Yeah, I hired 'im yesterday. Turns out his theory was right about Dave an' Chuck," Ricochet said. "As I was sayin', my junior deputy told me that he'd make sure that I don't kill both of 'em when I catch 'em. But the thought that they did such a cruel thing to Droop-a-Long...it makes my blood boil."

"I get it, Ricochet. Nobody deserves to be killed like that, 'specially if they were the nicest people you could meet," J.P. said. "Say, who's your junior deputy?"

"Oh, the feller called himself Jeb. Nice guy, but he chatters like a parrot. He reminds me of Droop-a-Long a bit," Ricochet said.

"Wait...Ricochet, there's one other detail I jus' remembered."

"What's that, J.P.?"

"That feller you called Jeb...did he have brown hair an' green eyes?"

Ricochet blinked in confusion. He had no idea where these questions were coming from. "Yes...?"

J.P.'s eyes narrowed. "Ricochet...I hates ta tell you this, but...I reckon your junior deputy might be workin' for your enemies."

"What?" Ricochet gaped at him. "That's ridiculous, J.P.! Jeb was with me this mornin'!"

"I'm positive that the guy who clocked me in the head said his name was Jeb," J.P. said. "Either that, or I'm mishearin' things..."

Ricochet frowned. "Don't you worry, J.P. I'll get the full details from Jeb, an' find out what's goin' on. And if he did go behind my back an' do this to ya...I'm gonna have some choice words for 'im."

J.P. made to say more, but Ricochet shot out of the room so fast, the wind dragged him out of bed and sent him crashing to the floor. The doctor, his bodyguards and his secretary all came in upon hearing this.

J.P. groaned as he sat up. "You gotta admire his takeoffs sometimes..."


"Jeb!"

Jeb, who had been in the middle of a nap, shot up from his spot on the floor upon hearing Ricochet's shout. Upon righting himself from his position on the floor, he looked down at the sheriff, who was glaring at him.

Oh, boy, what did I do now? Jeb wondered. "H-Howdy, Sheriff. Is there any trouble?"

"Yes there is...and it looks like you're right in the thick of it, Jeb," Ricochet said. "The mayor almost got assassinated this mornin', and he says that you were the one who put him in the hospital."

Jeb's eyes went wider than dinner plates. "W-What?! That's crazy! I-I'd never attack J.P. Nuggets, ever!" he said. "Why would he say I attacked 'im?"

"The fella that clocked him over the head looked a lot like you, and he said that Jeb was his name." Ricochet's eyes narrowed even more. "You got somethin' you wanna tell me, Jeb?"

"Sheriff, I swear on my badge that I was nowhere near the mayor's house this mornin'!"

"How do I know that? How do I know that you weren't sent here to keep an eye on what I was doin'?"

"Sheriff, what I told ya earlier was a theory. I did suspect Dave an' Chuck were involved, but I wasn't pretendin' a bit when I came here yesterday," Jeb argued.

"Who knows? Who knows if that whole bit about you bein' Droop-a-Long's friend was a lie, too, jus' so you could get on my good side?" Ricochet continued.

Jeb's hands were balling into fists, and he was shuddering. "Sheriff, I reckon you need ta take that back," he said.

"Why should I? Ya know, I wouldn't be too surprised if it turned out you pretended ta be Droop-a-Long's friend, and that you-"

"Shut up!" Jeb yelled. His face had gone redder than a strawberry, and he glared down at Ricochet. "So, is this how ya treat folks who wanna help you? Yell at 'em and accuse 'em of somethin' based offa what someone saw?" He pointed at himself. "I'm several things, Sheriff, but a traitor ain't one of them. And I ain't a liar, either. My friendship with Droop-a-Long was as real as your friendship with 'im, and I meant what I said this mornin' about helpin' you get justice an' that what happened to 'im was awful. But I'd never turn against my friends. I woulda never called myself Droop-a-Long's friend if I worked for those folks."

"Jeb-"

"You had your turn to yell, so you hush up an' listen!" Jeb snapped. Letting out a deep breath, he softened his voice. His throat felt scraped raw from yelling so loud. "I get that you findin' out the truth has you out for blood. I get that, I do. But remember how folks accused you and they didn't care what you said? You're doin' the exact same thing; you're accusin' me of bein' a mole for Dave 'n Chuck when you know for darn sure that I was here in this office, gettin' breakfast ready, and tryin' ta cheer ya up. You wanna be mad at them? Fine. Be mad. But if someone says somethin' accusin' towards someone else, you should jus' say, 'Ya know, Jeb, the mayor thinks you were the one who attacked 'im. I jus' wanna know if that's true'. You know what that is, Sheriff? That's how ya get answers. What you did? You almost made me kill you."

Dead silence filled the room. Jeb was glaring at the rabbit, who was staring at him with a look of utter shock. Outside of the sheriff's office, a few people were standing outside, staring with wide eyes. When he looked at them, they quickly scampered off.

Jeb took another look at Ricochet, and then turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs. His boots clacked against the stairs so hard, Ricochet though he'd create holes in them. He then reached the second floor, flung open one of the doors to the guest room, and slammed the door. He sat on the bed and cradled his head in his knees.

What had he done to deserve such treatment? He'd thought that what happened this morning would have changed Ricochet's mind, but he could see it hadn't. If Ricochet was angry about Dave and Chuck's scheme, he could be angry. But he didn't have to blow up at him, much less accuse him of doing such a horrible crime.

He sighed deeply. I guess this is how you felt sometimes, Droop-a-Long...


Ricochet stared at the stairwell, utter aplomb on his face. Nobody, not even Droop-a-Long during their worst fights, had ever yelled at him like that. Jeb's words brought back events from the day before, when he'd been dragged to jail and people had accused him, not caring about what he'd said. Ricochet imagined that their positions had been reversed, and Jeb had been the one to tell him that everything he'd ever said and done was all part of a lie.

He winced. Ouch. There were times where he wished he had more control over his words. And this would be one of them.

He thought of walking upstairs and talking to Jeb, but something told him to hold off on that thought right then. For one thing, Jeb had proved that he was nothing like Droop-a-Long in terms of temperament, and he might not be one to quickly cool off. Besides, he needed some time to cool off himself, and he wasn't going to do it in the office.

Sighing, he made his way out the door, pausing once more to look up the stairs. "Hey, Jeb...I-I'm headin' out. I'll be back later," he called. He didn't even know if the man would hear him or not, but at least he had taken a chance.

He made his way out of the office, heading towards the saloon. It looked like he was in need of a carrot cocktail...or several.


At the county jail...

The warden stared at the release papers doubtedly, his eyes fixed on the rather messy signature on the line. He then looked up at Zeb. "You sure you didn't forge these here papers?" he asked.

"How can I forge a signature when I don' even know how ta read?" Zeb said. "I got it straight from the mayor 'imself. It's jus' a little messy since he had loads o' work."

"I'm sure he did." The warden sighed, and then waved towards Dave and Chuck. "Alright, you two are free ta go. But if you end up in here again, no amount of release papers is gonna free ya from jail."

"We get it," Dave said. "And we're right upset about what happened with the deputy. We didn't get a chance ta apologize."

Chuck nodded. "If anythin', I hope the sheriff will forgive us," he added.

"You'd better be hopin' beyond hope that he does," the warden said as Zeb led them out. "Sheriff Ricochet's got a penchant for grudges."

"So I've heard," Zeb replied.

When they got several yards away from the jail, Dave clapped Zeb on the back. He had a triumphant smile on his face. "Ya did good, Zeb," he said. "Your reward's gonna double after ya take care of some 'unfinished business' for us."

"You mean..."

"Yeah." Dave's grin widened. "You're gonna be the one to put a bullet in the sheriff's head."

Zeb stared at him in surprise. "But I thought ya wanted me to take the boys over to Youngsville and get rid of Droop-a-Long."

"We're changin' the plan a bit," Chuck answered. "Ya see, if we go down to the office, Ricochet will probably beat the answers right outta us. Takin' 'im out beforehand throws out that possibility."

"Plus, Droop-a-Long's our enemy, not yours. We wanna handle him personally," Dave said. "Before we pack an' go to Youngsville, we'll be meetin' with you ta make sure that you did your job."

"Roger that," Zeb said. "So when can expect ta get my paycheck?"

Dave chuckled. "As soon as we become the new sheriff an' deputy of Hoop 'n Holler," he said. He sighed contentedly. "You jus' wait. Things are gonna start changin' round these parts."


Marcus McCloud's Base of Operations

Havenport

Newly rapped on Droop-a-Long's door. "Hey, I've got that brick-style chili ya asked for!" he shouted.

There was a weak cough, and then Droop-a-Long's voice came from the other side. "You can bring it in, Mr. Newly," he said.

Sighing, Newly walked inside. The room was much lighter due to his opening the curtains earlier that day, but he still kept them slightly closed so that no curious eyes would look inside. Sitting up in bed was Droop-a-Long, who was reclined against the bedframe. He still looked pretty rough, but not as bad as when he'd first come in yesterday. Newly had never seen so much blood in his life, and the sight of all those gashes had made him nauseous.

Setting the bowl of chili in front of Droop-a-Long, he said, "This is the third time ya called me in here for somethin' ta eat. Most people this beat up ain't all that hungry, much less up for meat."

Droop-a-Long shrugged. "It is kinda weird, but I've always been like that. I can take a lotta hits to the point where I end up like this, but later I'll be back to my ol' self," he said.

Newly shook his head, bewildered. "How do you animal-folk do it, takin' hits like that an' still get up?"

"I dunno. I asked Mr. Ricochet once an' he was jus' as stumped," Droop-a-Long said.

"I bet Ricochet's gotten hit a lot of times too, huh?"

"Yeah, but I get the worst of it," Droop-a-Long said. He paused in taking a bite of his chili. "By the way, when are y'all gonna send out that telegram to 'im?"

Newly tried not to fidget. "As soon as I can, Deputy," he said. "I'd do it myself, but Marcus gave me strict orders to stay 'round here an' wait."

"How come?" Droop-a-Long asked.

"Well, we run a business together, me an' him. We order a lot of supplies, an' most of 'em come here. It's my job to keep track of 'em," Newly explained.

"Oh, I gets it. And if ya leave, your packages might go to tha wrong house or somethin'," Droop-a-Long said.

Newly smiled. Marcus had been right about how naive this coyote was. "An' Marcus doesn't want that ta happen," he said, "an' he's got a bit of a frightful temper, so I wouldn't put it past 'im."

"Kinda reminds me of Mr. Ricochet. He's got a scary temper, too," Droop-a-Long said. He sighed. "I hope y'all do get in contact with Mr. Ricochet somehow. It'd be even better iffin' y'all had a phone."

"We do, but it's broken," Newly said. "We aims ta get it fixed soon, though, so as soon as we get it fixed, you can talk to tha sheriff."

Droop-a-Long's eyes widened. "Really?"

Newly nodded. "Sure. After all, telegraphs are gonna take a long time to get to people," he answered.

Droop-a-Long smiled. "Shucks, Newly, I feel a lot better 'bout this already," he said. He took a bite of the chili. "Hmmm...kinda spicy, an' its got a lotta beans. But I won' complain much." He took another bite of it. "After all, this is kinda how Denise likes her chili."

"Denise?" Newly said. "Who's that?"

Droop-a-Long's face colored slightly. "She's my girlfriend," he said. "Shucks...if she hasn't heard 'bout what happened yet, she will soon. Her poor heart couldn't take it."

Newly sighed. He just had to open his big mouth... "Don't worry, Deputy. Once ya call the sheriff, you can ask him to call your gal an'-"

"I would, but I think she'd wanna hear from me," Droop-a-Long interrupted. "Can ya promise me that you'll get that phone fixed soon, Mr. Newly? Or at least, tell Mr. Marcus? I can't go on thinkin' 'bout how worried they both are much longer..."

Newly sighed. He knew he shouldn't be making promises, and he knew Marcus would have his head if he found out. But the coyote looked so worried and upset...the last thing he wanted was for their guest to be anxious the entire time he was staying here.

He nodded. "Alright, Deputy. It's a promise."


Meanwhile, back at Hoop 'n Holler...

"Sheriff, you sure you want another glass?" the bartender asked.

Ricochet raised his head from the table to look at him. Three empty glasses surrounded him, carrot stems buried at the bottom. The rabbit nodded faintly, and added, "Extra carrot pieces, Sam."

Sam sighed. "Comin' up, Sheriff," he said, taking the glasses away and preparing a fourth. "Geez, and I thought I could hold a number of 'em..."

Ricochet didn't say anything. He simply raised himself from the table, trying to shake off the buzz he'd gotten from that last drink. Normally, he could hold a number of them without much problem, but combining it with a lack of sleep was a nightmare. When Sam placed the fourth glass in front of him, he felt a little sick to his stomach.

Sam noticed his hesitation and offered a small smile. "I figured ya wouldn't be takin' it, but..."

"s'lright. I came ta take my mind offa things, not ta drink my sorrows away."

"But ya did anyhow," the bartender said. "It must be right tough not havin' someone ta talk to any more."

"It sure is," Ricochet said. "An' I jus' had to make the other person who wanted ta help me out angry."

"Who's that?" Sam asked.

"My new junior deputy, Jeb," Ricochet said. "He wanted ta help me out, but I...I kinda pushed him away."

Sam nodded.

"It's not that he's a bad fella or nothin'; he's a nice guy, though he chatters a lot, and he's eager ta help. Guess who that reminded me of?"

"Ah..." Sam handed off another drink to another customer. "I see."

"I guess...I guess I wasn't really ready ta take on another deputy jus' yet. My best friend, who worked with me for years, is gone, an' he's never comin' back. I couldn't protect 'im. An' this feller who acts like 'im comes in an' says he can help. An' then there's that whole case with the mayor," Ricochet continued. "The mayor says that Jeb attacked 'im, an' Jeb's swearin' he didn't do it."

"What happened?"

"I said some words, he got real angry at me, an'...well, now I'm here," Ricochet said. "A part of me feels right guilty for treatin' him like I did. He tried to cheer me up an' convince me ta keep goin' on the case, even after I blew up at him. But I still keep 'im at arm's length, even though he wants to be my friend. I reckon what happened made me wary of trustin' others, or immediately makin' 'em my friends. People have been lyin' to me or keepin' things from me lately..."

"I gets it, Sheriff. Once you've been lied to, or learn somethin', it changes everythin'. Learnin' that two fellers were harrassin' Deputy Droop-a-Long was jus' the tip of the iceberg; apparently, Droop-a-Long had more friends outside of jus' you," Sam replied. "I'm not gonna tell ya to immediately trust Jeb. Like ya said, people do keep things from others."

Ricochet nodded.

"But I reckon Jeb came 'round ta help ya at the right time, Sheriff. If it weren't for him, ya wouldn't be workin' on this case an' tryin' ta get justice for Droop-a-Long. And it helps ta have someone around to talk to, 'specially durin' times like these."

"I know that, and I admit, Jeb's been doin' his best to help out in that area, but...I-I'm wary. If I couldn't protect Droop-a-Long...how am I supposed ta protect someone else, let alone his friend?" Ricochet said.

Sam sighed. "Sheriff, ya can't protect everyone. People have gotta fight their own battles sometimes. You had ta fight yours, and he had ta fight his," he said.

"And he lost his," Ricochet said, his ears drooping down, "all 'cause I wasn't there ta back 'im up."

"It wasn't your fault, Sheriff. Ya would've been killed by those fellers, too, an' this town would've been overrun by crime," Sam said. "So ya don't have ta blame yourself for not helpin' Droop-a-Long. There was nothin' ya could've done."

Ricochet sighed. "You're probably right, Sam. But I reckon it'll be a while before I can bounce back. I still haven't really come to terms with it," he said. He pulled out some money from his wallet and gave it to Sam, but he waved it away.

"It's on the house, Sheriff," he said. "Consider it a favor from a friend."

"Keep this up, Sam, an' you're gonna go broke," Ricochet teased, putting his money back in his pocket. He got down from the stool and looked up at the bartender. "But thanks for helpin' me out."

"Glad I could make ya feel a little better, Sheriff," Sam said. "Next time-"

He was cut off when gunshots erupted outside. All commotion died as everyone turned around to see what was going on.

One of the townspeople ran inside, shock exploding all over his face. "Sheriff! Someone's shootin' up your office lookin' for you!" he yelled.

Ricochet frowned. "They wanted my attention, eh? They've got it!"He shot out of the office, barreling straight through the man and out the door. A gust of wind followed shortly after, almost dragging Sam out from behind the bar.

Sam shook his head. "Well, whoever got that great idea's gonna wish they never had it in the first place..."


Jeb remained on the second floor, deathly quiet. He had fallen asleep a little over an hour ago, and then out of nowhere, gunshots had exploded through the office. He could only imagine the state the walls were in now. Ricochet was going to be furious when he came back...if he came back.

The barrage stopped, and then someone shouted, "Sheriff! Come outta thar, unless ya wanna die like yer deputy!"

Jeb's eyes widened. He knew that voice. Clambering down the stairs, he stood a few steps from the first floor, pausing to get a good look at the shooter. "Zeb?" he called.

Zeb stood in the doorway, pointing his gun at the wall. His green eyes widened as he stared at Jeb. The gun clattered to the floor. "Jeb?!" he shouted.

"What are you doin' here?!" they said at once.

"That's what I wanna know!" Ricochet's voice came into the fray, and both men turned around to see him standing there, looking very angry. His anger melted away to reveal confusion. "Wait a minute...you look jus' like Jeb!"

"Sheriff, that's my twin brother, Zeb!" Jeb said. "I-I don' know why he came here shootin' an' all, but-"

"I reckon I know why," Ricochet said. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Zeb. "So, you're the fella that J.P. Nuggets saw when he was attacked this mornin', eh?"

Jeb stared at Zeb. "You...you attacked the mayor?" he asked.

"No! Jeb, I swear, I wasn't anywhere near the mayor's house!" Zeb said, backing away.

Jeb shook his head. "There's nobody else in this whole town that looks exactly like I do, Zeb..."

"I-I'm tellin' ya the truth, Jeb. I-I'd never lie to my own brother..."

Zeb backed into Ricochet. When he turned around, the rabbit gave him a pointed glare.

"But I bet you'd keep things from 'im, won't ya?" Ricochet asked.

"I-I-"

"You...you did this to Droop-a-Long, didn't you?" Jeb asked, trembling. "You put these here holes in the wall, like ya did jus' now, and ya killed Droop-a-Long, didn't you?"

Zeb's face had gone whiter than chalk. "I-I swear, Jeb, I-"

"Didn't you?!" Jeb interrupted. His face was redder than a strawberry, and his eyes were filled with sorrowful fury. "You killed one o' my friends and tried ta kill the sheriff!"

Zeb's hand balled into a fist as he looked at the ground. His reply was a hoarse whisper. "I...I had my orders, Jeb. I was gettin' paid to do this, too."

Jeb's eyes widened with horror. "You were paid ta kill-"

"I needed the money, an' you know that, Jeb!" Zeb snapped, glaring at his brother. "You try feedin' three youngin's and a wife with the income ya get from shinin' shoes! I was desperate!"

"Desperate enough ta kill a person?" Jeb questioned. "You're one of the nicest people I know, Zeb. Ya wouldn't do this...you wouldn't rob someone of their life for money! Think of what ya did to the sheriff! That was his best friend ya killed!"

Zeb's expression faltered, and for a moment, Jeb thought he saw a flicker of sorrow in his eyes. But just as fast, that flicker was gone and the glare returned.

"Well...desperate times call for desperate measures, Jeb," he said.

Jeb started to say more, but Ricochet came behind Zeb then, his gun out of his holster and pointed at Zeb's back. The anger and disgust on his face could've been seen from a mile away.

"I've heard all I needed ta hear," Ricochet said. He then removed Zeb's gun and tossed it to Jeb. "Put that gun over on my desk, Junior Deputy. I'll handle Zeb."

Jeb nodded. "S-Sure thing, Sheriff."

"As for you," Ricochet said, glaring up at Zeb, "you're gonna sit in this here holdin' cell. Now, march."

Zeb quickly complied, wincing as he felt the barrel of Ricochet's gun press into his back. One wrong move, and the rabbit would surely end his life. He then looked over at Jeb, who was removing the bullets from his gun. His eyes were red with tears, and his expression was angry. He looked over at Zeb then.

Zeb sighed. "I...I'm sorry, Jeb." He knew it wouldn't help him get into Ricochet's good graces, but he wanted to show his brother that he wasn't an utter monster. He had to understand.

Jeb turned away from his brother, focusing on the revolver. Before Ricochet pushed him through the cell door, Zeb heard his brother's soft reply: "I'm sorry, too, Zeb. I'm sorry, too."

Zeb turned to answer, but Ricochet closed the doors to the cell, and then locked it with his keys. When he looked up at Zeb finally, the outlaw had to step back at the sheer intensity of his glare, which could've killed a lesser person.

"You'll get the chance ta talk to your brother later...after ya talk ta me, that is," Ricochet started.

Zeb gulped. I'm gonna die for this...


Havenport

"Hey, Newly, open the door!" Marcus shouted. He adjusted his arms so he could hold the crate easier. "This is a heavy one!"

A series of hurried footsteps came a few seconds later. Newly opened the door, and Marcus dumped the crate into his arms. Being completely unprepared for that, he and the package went tumbling to the floor. There was a loud crash, and Marcus thought he heard the sounds of shattering glass.

"Oh, crap..." Newly groaned.

"NEWLY!" Marcus yelled. He stormed inside to face his partner, who was lying on the floor and covered in pieces of china plates. "How many times have I warned you to be careful?"

Newly sat up and glared at him. "So sorry that I didn't get a warnin' ahead of time!"

"And 'this is a heavy one' ain't enough of a warnin'? Another mistake like that, an' the boss is gonna have both of our heads!" Marcus said.

"What's the boss' deal with this fancy china, anyway?" Newly picked up a shard and examined it, frowning at the blue designs etched on the bottom of the plate.

"It's come from a whole 'nother country, ya idiot! And ya know how rich people are 'bout foreign things! They insist it's the best!"

The door behind Newly creaked open, but neither of them were paying attention.

"Is that why the boss absolutely insisted that we get it the last time we were on the phone?"

"Yes, an' he insisted that we keep it in perfect condition. Do ya know how long it took me ta get this off the train? I almost got caught sneakin' off with it! This is supposed ta go to the mayor's!" Marcus said. He groaned. "Now I've gotta wait 'til another shipment comes in an' steal that!"

"You know how long it takes for somethin' like that ta show up?" Newly asked.

"Yes," Marcus snapped, "an' we might be dead men, thanks to you screwin' things up, Newly!"

"...you stole that?"

Both Newly and Marcus froze. They turned around to face Droop-a-Long, who was halfway out of his room, wearing a blanket around his shoulders. His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth dropped open.

"Oh, great," Marcus groaned. "Jus' when I thought my day couldn't get any worse..."

Newly looked at him, and then at Droop-a-Long, who looked at him with that same shocked expression. Newly sat up, removing some of the china pieces that covered his shirt, and stood up. He made his way over to a chair near the stove, pulled it out, and turned towards Droop-a-Long.

"M-Mr. Newly...I don't understand what's goin' on here," Droop-a-Long said. "I-I was jus' lookin' ta see iffin' ya had an icebox so I could eat somethin'..."

"Well, ya might as well sit down, Deputy," Newly said. "We need ta talk."

Marcus' head snapped upwards. "Newly..." His tone was dangerous.

"Marcus, he was bound ta find out anyways," Newly said tiredly. He turned towards Droop-a-Long, who was still staring at him. "Feel free ta sit in this chair, Deputy. You're gonna be here a while..."


Outside of Hoop 'n Holler...

"Where is Zeb?" Chuck growled, scanning the distance. He'd been staring at the county line for over twenty minutes, and there was still no sign of the man. He turned towards Dave, who was getting the horses ready for their journey to Youngsville. "He should've been here by now with news!"

"Ya know Ricochet. He ain't gonna go down without a fight," Dave said. After loading another pack of food on his horse, he turned to Chuck. "Give 'im a few more minutes, Chuck. He'll be here."

Chuck sighed as he scanned the county line again. "Somehow, I have a feelin' you're wrong..."

To be continued...


The next chapter will be the finale for this arc, I swear!

A lot of stuff happened in this chapter, and it was one rollercoaster ride after another. From Ricochet's grief, to Droop-a-Long's desperation, to Jeb's earnest attempts to become a good deputy, there certainly was a lot of drama. The final part has much more action; you can consider this as a warm-up to that chapter, as it sets the grounds for the eventual showdown between Dave, Chuck and Ricochet.

Out of all the characters in this story arc, I really liked writing Ricochet the most. It was interesting to see different sides of him, namely his sorrow and his guilt. I think a part of me kept this going to make him suffer even more...why writers come up with new ways to torture their favorite characters, I'll never know. Anyway, it was interesting to write about his fears. "It's Alright, Mr. Ricochet" established that his greatest fears are losing those he cares about and failing to do his duty. Here, he believes that he lost Droop-a-Long for good (something that nearly happened before), and that the reason that he's gone is because he didn't do his job as sheriff well enough, that he failed to protect Droop-a-Long from people like Dave and Chuck. Part of the reason for his blowup at Jeb was because of this guilt, not to mention that Jeb reminds him too much of Droop-a-Long personality-wise, something that he really doesn't want. He's also suspicious of how Jeb suddenly appeared, hence why he accused him in this chapter. Later, he does get along with Jeb a bit better, but it takes time.

Jeb was also an interesting character to write. He's the guy from Part 2 who stuck up for Droop-a-Long at Town Hall and, as of late, is the only person who's willing to help Droop-a-Long. His general profile is already up on my profile, since I had his character in mind while I was writing chapter 3. As for Zeb, his character was also pretty interesting to write; while he didn't want to kill Droop-a-Long, it's clear that he did it because he's desperate for money. The two of them being twin brothers didn't really come to me until I wrote out this chapter-originally, I was leaning towards having Jeb betray Ricochet, but as you can see, that didn't happen. Both of them will get some time in the final part, which is pretty much almost done, but my mind keeps coming up with twenty more scenes no matter how hard I try.

Droop-a-Long will also get some more time to shine in the final part. In my opinion, I think that Marcus and Newly, the two train robbers who're taking care of him, were more fun for me to write than Droop-a-Long. I tried to put in a bit more lighthearted fare to lessen all the drama with their scenes, but I'll let you be the judge of that.

Next chapter will be the final part of this arc! Constructive criticism is most appreciated!

God bless, iheartgod175