A/N: Alright, chapter 18 of Blazin' Trails is here! Thanks a lot for the feedback, and I'm glad you like the arc thus far. Now, as I promised last time, this is the REAL final part of this arc.

Last time, Ricochet took on a new deputy to help out on the case, and things got off to an uneasy start. That turned out to be nothing, though, compared to what happened after. And that turns out to be just the beginning...

Disclaimer: This arc is the reason I don't own either Ricochet or Droop-a-Long.


Story 18: Protector

The Final Part

Forty minutes.

Ricochet had been inside the cell room interrogating Zeb Forrest for over forty minutes. Jeb knew that this was nothing more than standard procedure, but it did nothing to ease his anxiety. Conflicting emotions filled his mind, and the ones that kept coming up was hurt and betrayal.

Of course, when the shock had worn off, he'd been angry, angrier than he'd been with Ricochet earlier that afternoon. All the while Ricochet interrogated his brother, Jeb had mentally cursed his brother, using words that he wouldn't be caught dead saying to anyone else. His brother, Zeb, had not only killed Droop-a-Long and drove Ricochet to this state, but he'd also tried to bring him into this mess by framing him. His dark side had wanted to go in there and beat Zeb senseless for what he'd done. And he believed that he was justified in this. His brother had done a terrible thing, all in the name of money, and he obviously didn't give a crap about how his actions had affected him, the whole town, and Ricochet most of all.

But he knew that wouldn't sit well with Ricochet. If he did that, the sheriff would surely fire him. And no matter how justified he thought he was, Jeb knew he'd never look at himself in the mirror again. His older brother was his role model, the person he looked up to when he was a kid. Zeb was the good one, the one who'd never do anything wrong. Out of the two, Jeb was more likely to be the screw up. He was supposed to be in here, not Zeb. Even his own family admitted it.

Jeb sighed and buried his head in his hands. He'd already dealt with his fair share of betrayal before.

And now, he was dealing with it again.

The door to the cells creaked open, and Ricochet made his way out. With a heavy sigh, he closed the doors and then made his way over to the desk. Rather than sitting in the chair, he sat on the floor, leaning against the desk. He looked exhausted and irritated.

"So, uh...Zeb's not sayin' nothin', huh?" Jeb asked tentatively.

"Oh, he talked," Ricochet answered. "He tried ta keep things from me, but then I told him how long he was gonna stay in prison, and that's if he's lucky. That got 'im ta talk."

"You don't seem too happy about it, though," Jeb noted.

Ricochet nodded. "It's jus'...after he told me what he'd done to Droop-a-Long, an' what Dave 'n Chuck ordered him ta do to me...I felt drained," he said. "He told me that Droop-a-Long was alive when they threw 'im in a sack an' on that train, but..." He paused, and Jeb noticed he was starting to shake. "H-He's long gone by now..."

Jeb got out of his chair and sat on the floor next to him. His expression was sympathetic. "That's gotta be rough, Sheriff..."

"It ain't nearly as rough as discoverin' your brother did it," Ricochet said.

"Yeah..." Jeb looked down at the ground, sorrow crossing his features. "I don' get it...why did he do it?"

"He said he did it for money to feed his family," Ricochet answered. "Frankly, I think it's an excuse, but..."

"That actually ain't a lie, Sheriff. Zeb got married six years ago an' he moved out to another town. I knew that he'd lost his job a year ago, but he never mentioned nothin' to me about his troubles," Jeb said. "I thought everythin' was fine for him an' his family, the way he was makin' it sound." Jeb smiled bitterly. "Guess that shows what I know."

"You'd be surprised with what ya learn about people, Jeb. There's more to them than jus' appearances, or words."

"Or guessin'," Jeb added.

"Guessin'?"

"Yeah, ya know, when your family guesses how you're gonna be when ya get older," Jeb said.

Ricochet's eyes widened. "Ah..."

"Yeah. Outta the two of us, people figured I'd be the screw-up, the one who'd end up bein' on the wrong side of the law. Zeb was the good one, the nice one...me on the other hand..." Jeb let out a derisive laugh. "I'm the annoyin' one, the one who had ta put his two cents in everythin'. My own dad told me I was a screw up."

"You're not the only one," Ricochet replied. When Jeb looked at him with confusion, Ricochet continued with, "I was kinda like you when I was younger. The annoyin' little brother who was not only a hothead, but had a pretty big mouth. And I still am...an' sometimes, I ain't too proud of it. I hurt others' feelin's without realizin' it 'til someone tells me. An' that's what I did today."

Jeb's eyes widened. "Sheriff, ya don't-"

"No, Jeb, I do have to," Ricochet interrupted. He looked up at Jeb, his expression sad. "Those were fightin' words I said to ya earlier. I was already angry when I came back from J.P.'s office, an' I took most of it out on you. I should've sat back an' examined the facts rather than accuse ya. Can ya forgive me, Jeb?"

Jeb gave him a smile and then patted him on the shoulder. "Of course, Sheriff," Jeb replied. "Nobody's perfect." He sighed. "I'm sorry, too. I lost my cool earlier, an' I reckon I hurt your feelin's, too."

"Actually, ya kinda left me standin' in shock," Ricochet admitted. "Nobody had ever yelled at me like ya did earlier."

"Even so...I'm sorry, Sheriff. I mean, like I said earlier, I consider ya to be a hero," Jeb said. "I never imagined that I'd be yellin' at Ricochet Rabbit...an' live to apologize to 'im."

"Hey, I ain't that feared, Jeb. An' I ain't that bad when it comes to my temper, either."

Jeb smirked. "It's jus' a little joke, Sheriff. You'd be surprised to hear the legends about ya back home," he said. "Although I'm startin' ta see how some of 'em are true..."

"Now, Jeb..."

Jeb chuckled a bit. "I'm just joshin' with ya, Sheriff." He sighed. "I don' know how I can, 'specially in light of what's happened..."

"After what's happened, we could use somethin' ta take our mind offa things," Ricochet replied. "If ya feel up to it, you can go in an' visit your brother for a little bit."

"You'd let me do that?" Jeb asked.

Ricochet nodded. "Sure. Jus' don't get too riled up in thar. Last thing I need is a fight."

Jeb smiled a little. "Thanks, Sheriff," he said.

"No problem, Jeb. I'm jus' glad that the real person behind this was caught," Ricochet answered.

"That reminds me...ain't we gonna go after Dave 'n Chuck?"

"That we are, Jeb. Jus' needed ta pull my head together," Ricochet said. He got up from the floor, adjusted his hat and turned to face Jeb. "Come on, Jeb. We're gonna find those two an' put a stop ta this."

Jeb nodded and stood to his feet. "Hopefully, I'll be able ta keep up with ya when ya do find them."


Chuck paced about restlessly, still looking at the county line. "I don' see no sign of Zeb yet, Dave. We need ta get out of here," he said.

Dave lowered his canteen and groaned. "Alright, but only 'cause you can't keep still," he said. "Saddle up, we're headin' ta Youngsville."

Chuck mounted his horse, and right before he could set off, he happened to see three people standing at the town entrance. The first was a man who looked a lot like Zeb, but he wore green and white instead of blue, and he had a silver star on his chest. The second was a redheaded man who was dressed in pink and red, and was pointing in their direction.

And next to him was Ricochet Rabbit, who turned to glare at them.

Dave yelled, "Chuck, get goin'! The sheriff saw us!"

"I told ya we should've left!" Chuck shot back. With a sharp shake of the horse's reins, he galloped away, and Dave soon followed. The two raced across the desert, sweat beading on their brows.

"Ya think Zeb told the sheriff anythin'?" Chuck shouted.

"I'm pretty sure he did, since that dumb sheriff is still alive," Dave said. "But don't worry, the rest of our boys'll handle him an' that Zeb-lookalike." He smirked. "They oughta keep 'im busy."

"Oh, I sure hope so, Dave," Chuck said.

No sooner had he said that than a loud shout cut through the drumming of horses' hooves hitting the ground. "Stop right thar! Y'all two ain't gettin' away from me this time!"

Dave and Chuck simultaneously gasped. "Oh, crap," Dave breathed out.

Rapidly gaining on them on foot, Ricochet glared up at Dave. "I heard that, an' I've got a big ol' bar o' soap for ya with your name on it!" he replied.

Chuck snarled, and he pulled out his gun. "Take this, you righteous rabbit!" He opened fire, aiming at Ricochet's foot. The bullet hit the ground in front of Ricochet, and he stumbled forwards, falling flat on his face. He got up just as a sneering Dave turned and opened fire next, followed by Chuck.

Rather than continue to give chase, Ricochet turned around and ran in the opposite direction, Dave's bullets giving chase. Dave laughed as he emptied his gun, and soon dozens of bullets were chasing after Ricochet, who was running back to town. In the distance they heard horrified screaming from the townspeople.

"Ha! That oughta teach that coward!" Dave said.

"Ya really think so, Dave?" Chuck asked.

"O' course I'm sure! Those are homin' bullets I stole from the sheriff's office! Even he can't outrun those!" Dave said. He turned back around to face the front. "Full speed ahead, Chuck! Nothin's keepin' us from gettin' ta Youngsville now!"

They spurred their horses on, galloping with blinding speed and laughing all the way.


Jeb ran outside of the office as soon as he heard the screaming. His gun was out of his holster and in his hand. "What in tarnation is goin' on?!" he shouted.

A few seconds later, he got his answer. Ricochet raced through town, and trailing behind him like small comets were dozens of bullets. People were diving for cover as some of the bullets slammed into the buildings and other random objects.

"HELP!" Ricochet screamed. "These things are catchin' up ta me!"

Jeb ran towards the fleeing sheriff, trying to take aim as he ran. "Pick on someone yer own size, ya stupid bullets!" he shouted, and started shooting.

Some of his bullets hit some of the targets, knocking the bullets out of the sky and sending them crashing harmlessly into the ground. Most of them completely missed and came close to hitting several people.

"Hey! Watch what you're doin' with that thing!" someone shouted from the saloon.

"Sorry, folks!" Jeb yelled. "I'm doin' as best as I can!"

"That ain't good enough, kid!" A large man with a bushy beard stepped out, carrying a rifle. "I've got this!" He took aim and fired, a loud report echoing through the town.

His shot was no better than Jeb's. The bullet almost hit Ricochet in the head, and his shot only sent one of the bullets ricocheting into a store.

Ricochet turned and glared at the man. "Are ya tryin' ta get me killed?!" he shouted.

"S-Sorry, Sheriff!"

Jeb skidded to a stop as Ricochet ran for the exit, hanging over and catching his breath. "H-He's jus' too fast," he said. "A-An' that's when he's not outrunnin' bullets..."

He stopped in his tracks at that. He ran over to one of the buildings where the bullets had crashed, and picked one up. It was gold, and when he took a look at the primer, he encountered a name engraved on the bottom. He frowned.

"O' course those bullets would be givin' Sheriff Ricochet trouble. These are made by the same people who make his bullets!" Jeb ran over to his horse, a white and black stallion with a weathered saddle on its back. Climbing on, he shouted to one of the people, "You! Get in the office an' keep an eye on Zeb!"

The man in question, a red-haired man dressed in expensive clothing, stared at him in shock. "E-Excuse me?" he repeated.

Jeb didn't stop to clarify what he'd said. With a sharp shake of the horse's reins, he took off towards the edge of town, praying that he'd catch up to Ricochet in time.


Ricochet growled out a curse as he headed for the caves. He knew the type of bullets Dave had shot all too well-they were known as "Warheads" for a reason. He used them sparingly, as he knew just how damaging those things were when they connected with someone. And with this many, it didn't matter if he ran all the way to the other side of the States; they would not stop until he made one wrong move.

"If this doesn't shake 'em, nothin' will!" he snarled. "Luckily for me, I can keep this up for as long as I need to."

Seeing as there were a few cacti around, Ricochet increased his speed, heading directly for the cactus. Rather than crashing right into it, he bounced off of it, then bounced off of another one that was right next to it. The bullets that followed crashed straight into the cactus and became stuck in the plant's prickly flesh.

Ricochet smirked. "Pretty smart move thar, Dave...but Ricochet Rabbit's smarter!" he said, heading for another row of cacti. Time of after time, he bounced off of the cactus surrounding him as fast as he could, taking care to not stick to one for too long. And each of the bullets became stuck in the plant, save for two that stubbornly refused to give up.

Ricochet grimaced as he ran for the mine. Even if I did run in here, I won't be able ta see a thing, and that could be disastrous when I'm running from Warhead bullets! I'm good as dead if I go in!

He was getting closer to the mine's entrance when he heard gunshots behind him. On instinct, he dove for the ground, sand making its way into his mouth. It was then that he realized his error, and he braced himself for the inevitable.

Surprisingly, the bullets never came. He cracked open his eyes, and his eyes widened in shock as he stared at the two Warhead bullets, both of them embedded in the ground. Spitting out the dirt in his throat, he made his way over to the bullets and picked it up. "This one's got a hole torn clean through its shell," he mused. "But...who in the-"

"Sheriff!"

Ricochet turned towards Jeb, who yanked his horse to a stop. "Took ya long enough ta get here, Jeb," he remarked.

"Well, I ain't the fastest bein' in the West like you are, Sheriff," Jeb replied, getting down from his horse and coming over to them. "I pretty much ran the horse ta get out here. Those homin' bullets ain't no joke."

"I know. I've used 'em a few times myself. An' trust me, it's not a pretty sight when they hit," Ricochet replied. "Even so...ya came in jus' in time. I was about ta make a suicide move by runnin' into this abandoned mine for cover. I might've died, too." He sent a small smile up at Jeb. "Thanks."

Jeb beamed. "You're welcome, Sheriff. Glad to help," he said. "Now that the Warheads are taken care of, I reckon you're gonna go after Dave an' Chuck."

"That I am, Jeb. But first, help me get these Warhead bullets."

"Right, Sheriff," Jeb said, stepping down. "But why do ya need them?"

Ricochet's mouth turned upwards into a sneaky smirk. "I've got a special surprise for both of 'em. I'll tell ya what it is after ya help me get them."

"Okay. Where are they?"

"Stuck in the cactuses back thar."

Jeb sighed. "Alrighty..."


A little while later...

"I don't see any trace of that sheriff, Dave!" Chuck shouted as they raced towards a small town.

Dave smirked. "Guess he's finished for good! We've got nothin' ta worry about now!" He laughed as he pulled out his gun, shooting into the air. People who were walking about in the street leaped to the side to avoid getting trampled to death by the horses. Dave and Chuck only yipped with joy at this, shooting their guns into the air as they stampeded through town.

"Ya think we need ta stop or anythin', Dave?" Chuck asked.

"Naw. 'sides, that'd have the sheriff of this town after us," Dave said. "No distractions, Chuck. We're headin' straight ta Youngsville!"

They were nearing the town exit when they heard gunshots behind them. Chuck looked worried, but Dave scoffed as several bullets crashed into the walls of the buildings beside them. "These folks can't shoot!" he snarled.

"An' they don' know who they're messin' with!" Chuck replied. He turned to face the shooters, only to get a nasty shock.

"Reckon these belong to ya!" With a small smirk, Ricochet dove for the ground, the bullets that Dave had fired racing harmlessly past him.

Dave jumped upon hearing Ricochet's voice. "What the-"

"Dave, jump!" Chuck yelled.

There was no time to argue. With a grunt, Dave leaped to the right, crashing into the front porch of a store, and Chuck dove to the left, his head colliding with the dirt.

Any second later and both of them would've been dead. A series of loud thuds filled their ears, followed by the screams of the horses and the townspeople. Dave picked himself up from the ground, wiping the blood from his face, and dove into the store. The owner of the store, a bespectacled old man, ran for the back exit as soon as he saw Dave.

Dave crouched behind a large barrel of sugar, looking out the window for any sign of Ricochet. The rabbit had his hand on his gun, looking about the street. He looked around the town square, which was now scattered with debris, sand, and a few bodies, including those of their horses. Ricochet turned to face Chuck, who was starting to pull himself to his feet, and walked over to him, his gun out of the holster.

Dave smashed open the window with his elbow, an action that made Ricochet whirl around. Dave unloaded the gun, but Ricochet dove for cover behind an abandoned wagon, while Chuck scrambled for the other side. More screaming filled their ears moments later.

This didn't stop Dave. He kept firing at the wagon, blowing many holes in it. He paused to reload, only for Ricochet to peer out moments later. Dave barely had time to duck to the ground before Ricochet opened fire, and dozens of bullets blew through the walls.

Dave loaded his gun again, and after pausing to avoid another barrage, he got up and returned fire. Ricochet ducked, but one bullet hit the tip of his ear. Ricochet yelped in pain, his hand grasping his injured ear, and he laughed. "He thinks that's bad? He ain't seen nothin' yet!" he said, using a variation of Ricochet's words. He continued to open fire on the wagon, but the sheriff had ducked for cover, probably to tend to his wounds.

The town square was hazy with smoke, but Dave could make out Chuck taking aim at the sheriff. Right before he could tell Chuck to start shooting, Chuck froze, then jumped to his feet and started running, his gun falling to the ground. Not long after, a loud gunshot filled his ears.

"Chuck, you idiot!" Dave roared. He didn't know if he was seeing things, but he could've sworn that the bullet that was chasing Chuck had opened up to reveal a hammer. Chuck didn't even get to the exit; one tap to the head, and he was on the ground, knocked out cold.

"Those stupid bullets!" Dave snarled. "What does it take for this sheriff to die?"

His question was answered when a bullet with a black lasso shot through the window and neatly wrapped around his gun hand. He had no time to react before he was yanked off of the ground, crashed through the glass pane and tumbled to the ground, his face slamming into the dirt. He spit out the dirt and blood that came up in his mouth, biting back the urge to swear as he looked up at his other mortal enemy.

Ricochet stood in front of him, his fur tussled and dirty, and blood trickling down the side of his face and his left ear; there was a bullet wound at the top that was currently leaking blood. In his right hand was his gun, and at the end of the barrel was a long black rope. His expression was dangerous as he looked down at Dave.

"If ya really wanna know," Ricochet answered, "it takes a lot ta get rid o' me."

"You an' your stupid trick bullets," Dave spat.

"Funny ya say that, since ya somehow got yer hands on them." His glare hardened. "That was right clever of ya to send those Warheards after me, but unfortunately for you, I know a thin' or two about tinkerin' with bullets."

Dave snarled. "You messed 'em up an' made 'em follow me, instead!"

"Mostly. But I lead 'em to ya instead of lettin' 'em do the work," Ricochet said. "'sides, I told ya earlier that you weren't gettin' away from me this time, Dave."

Dave rolled his eyes, and it was then that the drum of horse's hooves filled the air. He and Ricochet turned around to see a young man roll into town on a horse. Dave's eyes widened when he saw his face. "Zeb?! You were workin' with the sheriff?!" he yelled.

The man pulled up to a stop next to Ricochet, and he looked down at Dave in confusion. "I ain't Zeb. I'm Jeb, the junior deputy," he said. "Zeb's my twin."

Dave's eyes widened. "What?!"

"Shockin', I know," Ricochet said. He looked up at Jeb, his angry expression relaxing into a more sheepish one. "Sorry I left ya behind earlier, Jeb."

"It's alright, Sheriff. The horse was spent from chasin' after ya earlier," Jeb replied, getting down from his horse and coming over to them. His eyes widened when he got a good look at Ricochet. "You're bleedin', Sheriff!"

"It's nothin' new for me, Jeb. I've been through worse," Ricochet said. "Now, help me get these two cuffed 'n locked away."

Jeb nodded. "Right away, Sheriff. I'll get Chuck," he said, running over to the unconscious outlaw.

Dave groaned as Ricochet took his guns and got his arms behind his back so he could cuff him. Stupid sheriff's gonna get his someday...


An hour later...

Red Eye had just entered the saloon, which was full of people sitting at the bar, clamoring for drinks. "Alright, folks. No need ta get restless 'cause Same left," he said. He put on his apron, and went behind the counter, facing the row of men. "Now, what's your preference, fellers?"

Before anyone could give their orders, someone burst in through the doors of the saloon. "Y'all won't believe this, but Sheriff Ricochet an' the new deputy just captured Dave an' Chuck!" he yelled. "They're comin' into town now!"

In a matter of seconds, the saloon cleared out. Red Eye sighed. "Reckon I oughta see what's goin' on, too."

The crowd was blocking the door, so he had to settle for looking out the window to see what was going on. On foot were Ricochet and Jeb, the former with a bandage on his left ear, and the latter leading in a white and black spotted horse. On the back of the horse were Dave and Chuck, both of whom were dirty, battered and bruised. Dave's look was sour, while Chuck looked scared.

He had every reason to be scared. Red Eye knew the sheriff just as well as everyone else in town, and Ricochet wouldn't let something like this slide, especially if it involved a close friend of his.

Red Eye shook his head as Ricochet and Jeb led Dave and Chuck off the horse and put them inside. "Lord have mercy on their souls..."


"You can't do this to us! We have lawyers!" Dave yelled as Jeb lead them inside.

Jeb rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and even your lawyers won't defend ya for this," he said. "None o' your fancy tricks is gonna keep ya outta here."

Behind him, Chuck spat on the ground. "What do you know 'bout us, Deputy?" he snarled. "Oh, that's right? Can't call ya that, can ya? You're the junior deputy. 'sides, why would the sheriff appoint you as his new deputy when he can't get over the fact that the old one's gone?"

Jeb glared at Chuck. "Shut yer mouth," he snapped. He looked at Ricochet, who was leading in Chuck. His expression was filled with barely-contained anger.

It had been Ricochet's idea for Jeb to lead in Dave; he'd told Jeb that if he'd had to listen to him making threats, Dave would've been dead before he even made it to the office. Now Jeb was starting to see why Ricochet had done what he did. These two would make even the nicest person want to tear him apart.

Dave snickered. "Chuck's jus' statin' the truth. Ta be honest, there wasn't nothin' special 'bout that dumb deputy. I mean, why was Ricochet so protective of 'im?" he continued.

"You're treadin' on fire, Dave," Ricochet snapped. "I'd best keep quiet if I was you."

But Dave didn't. "Maybe I could ask the deputy himself...providin' that he might still be alive."

Jeb had been about to put Dave in the cell when Ricochet asked softly, "Are ya sayin' there's a chance he is still alive?"

Dave laughed as Jeb started to undo his cuffs. "Wow, you are dense, Sheriff. Don't you remember a thing Zeb told ya? They said he was alive when they threw 'im on the train. O'course, the deputy might be dead by now, so that's why I said he might be alive," he said.

Jeb groaned. "Sheriff Ricochet doesn't have time for this," he said, and made to close the cell. "You do your job an' be quiet."

"Oh, well. I'm tryin' ta help ya feel a little better, Sheriff," Dave said with a mocking smile in Ricochet's direction.

Jeb was about to lock the door when something crashed through it. As he still had his hand on the bar, he went flying with the door, slamming against the wall with incredible force. He groaned in pain, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to see the source of the disturbance. His eyes widened in shock when he got a good look at the scene in front of him.

Ricochet was standing on Dave's lap, and he had Dave up against the wall, his hands closed tightly around the other man's throat. Dave's smile was gone, replaced with fear as he stared at the sheriff, who had his head lowered, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat.

"You think this is funny, don't ya, Dave?" Ricochet asked softly. "You think that this is a game, tauntin' me ta see how far ya can go 'til ya make me snap." He raised his head to look at Dave, and the fury in those eyes could've killed a legion. "Well, now you know jus' how far you've gone. An' ta be honest, I'm right tired of ya testin' me. I'm right tired of you."

Dave couldn't answer even if he wanted to. Ricochet was smaller than him, but his grip was like an anaconda's. He attempted to pull his hands off of his throat, but to no avail. If anything, it made Ricochet's grip tighten even more. Strangling noises came from his throat as he tried to breathe, his face turning bright red.

"Sheriff, let 'im go," Jeb pleaded fearfully.

"Why should I?" Ricochet spat. His gaze was still locked on Dave's. "I've had it up ta here with his antics."

"Sheriff, if ya kill 'im, you'll go ta jail for murder," Jeb continued. He was shaking with fear; he'd never seen the sheriff get this angry, ever. "You'll go ta jail again, an' you might be killed for it. Ya need ta calm down-"

"Calm down?!" Ricochet yelled. He turned towards Jeb with a furious glare, one that made him step back. "How can I calm down when the man who harassed an' murdered my best friend is messin' with my head?!" He turned back to Dave, who stared at him fearfully. "I'm-a squeeze the life outta you, Dave, for what you did. You're gonna regret ever messin' with Droop-a-Long!"

"Ricochet, stop!" Jeb yelled back. "Think of what you're doing here! Killin' Dave ain't gonna make things better!"

"You might think that, but I sure don't! The world would be better off without people like 'im!" Ricochet snapped.

Jeb balled his hands into fists. He didn't want to do this, but he had to stop the sheriff. "Ricochet...do you think that Droop-a-Long would want this?" Jeb asked. "Do ya think that Droop-a-Long would want ya to kill Dave 'cause of what he an' Chuck did to 'im?"

Ricochet turned towards him, his glare lessening. His grip didn't lessen on Dave's throat, however.

Swallowing, Jeb continued with, "Ricochet, Droop-a-Long wouldn't want ya to kill others 'cause of what happened to 'im. He'd want ya to get justice for 'im, but he'd never want ya ta kill in order ta get justice. Killin' people yourself, no matter how bad they are, ain't justice. That's evil."

Ricochet looked at him, and then at Dave, who was starting to turn blue. After a long, fearful second, Ricochet released Dave, who collapsed into a coughing, sputtering mess. Jeb ran over to Ricochet, who looked both angry and ashamed.

"Ricochet...are you alright?" he asked.

Rather than answer him, Ricochet got down from Dave's lap, which he'd been standing on in order to shove him against the wall, and sat on the floor. He buried his head in his knees.

Jeb sighed. "I'll come back in a bit." He walked out of Dave's cell to check on Chuck. The larger man was at the bars, staring at the scene with wide eyes. His face had gone ghastly pale.

"So...now do ya see why you fellers are lucky to still be alive?" Jeb asked.

Chuck nodded rapidly. "I-I'll tell ya whatever you want...j-jus' don't kill me..."

Jeb looked over at Ricochet, who still sat on the floor. He sighed. "Don't worry, I'll ask the questions here," he said. "But I hope you two won't cause anymore trouble tonight."

"I think I've learned my lesson," Chuck said.

Jeb nodded and then went back into Dave's cell. "Dave, I'll get ya some water so ya won't choke anymore."

"I..." Dave coughed again, before looking up at Jeb with a small glare. "I'm surprised you're even offerin' me that much."

"Well, when ya almost get strangled, it leaves your throat right parched," Jeb said. He then turned to the sheriff. "I'll take things from here, Sheriff Ricochet. You go on 'n get some rest."

This got Ricochet to raise his head at last. He looked up at Jeb with tired, half-lidded eyes. "Jeb, ya don't have to," he said, his voice somewhat hoarse.

Jeb shook his head. "I want to, Sheriff," he said. "I'll even make some coffee for ya, jus' the way you like it, too. But I've gotta get some sugar first." He extended his hand to Ricochet. "I'll help ya up."

Ricochet sighed, but he didn't protest as he took Jeb's hand and let him pull him to his feet. After he made his way out of the cell, Jeb closed it and locked the door. "Now, not a peep outta ya until I come back," he said. "Got it?"

Dave grumbled a response, while Chuck said nothing. Deciding that he'd have to take those as answers for now, Jeb walked out the cell doors. A few seconds later, Ricochet followed him.

After closing the doors to the jail room, Jeb sighed, and then turned to Ricochet. The sheriff had his back to him, his ears lowered and head hung low. His hand were balled into fists. The tension in the room could've been cut with a butterknife.

"I reckon I oughta go an'...get that coffee ready for ya, Sheriff," Jeb said hurriedly, making his way to the kitchen.

"Jeb."

Jeb stopped short, and turned to face the sheriff, who'd made his way over to his chair. "Yes...?"

Ricochet looked up at him, his expression remorseful. "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. Even if it was 'round Dave, I shouldn't have lost my temper," he said. "I would've killed 'im if weren't for you."

"Sheriff, it's nothin' big-"

"Nothin' big? I would be hanged first thin' in the mornin' if I had gone through with it," Ricochet said. "I shouldn't have let things go this far in terms of my emotions. I never think about revenge, but he was mockin' Droop-a-Long an' toyin' with my mind..."

"I'm not blamin' ya for bein' mad. But I jus' didn't want ya to kill Dave over that. You can be angry at 'im, but don't hurt nobody. I'd hate to see ya locked up behind bars again, or worse."

"Ya really have faith in me, don't you?"

"I do, Sheriff. It's hard to find someone who doesn't," Jeb said. "If I didn't believe in ya, I wouldn't have come to ya. I probably would've been helpin' Zeb out in tryin' ta kill ya...or worse."

Ricochet sighed. "I bet you can see why Droop-a-Long was scared of me sometimes, huh?" he said.

"Yeah, I can't blame 'im. That was pretty scary back there. But...I can also see why you got angry," Jeb replied. "I would've tried ta kill 'im, too."

"Even so...I-I nearly killed 'im with my bare hands," Ricochet said. He shuddered at that thought. "I was this close ta doin' it, too." He used his two fingers for emphasis. "If I'd gone through with it...I never would've looked at myself in the mornin' again, much less have this here badge on my chest."

"Sheriff..."

Ricochet looked down at his hands. "And what ya said earlier, 'bout Droop-a-Long...you were right. Droop-a-Long wouldn't have wanted me ta kill someone in revenge. He'd be right angry with me if I did, mostly 'cause I'd die, too." He smiled bitterly. "Yeah, that sounds like Droop. He was always puttin' others before himself. H-He was doin' that before he..." At this, he broke off and grew quiet.

"Look, Sheriff...there may be a chance that he's alive, like Dave said," Jeb replied, noticing how Ricochet looked close to tears.

Ricochet looked up at him, trying to blink away the tears in his eyes. "A-Are ya sayin' that you actually believe 'im? 'Cause all evidence proves otherwise, Jeb," he said.

"I don't know for sure, Sheriff. Like they said, he could be dead, but you animal folks are tougher than most humans," Jeb admitted. "You can survive about anythin'. If ya think about it, Dave wasn't lyin' in sayin' that he could still be alive. The only thing is..."

"We don't know where he is," Ricochet said, his face forming a contemplative frown. "Zeb told me that they tossed Droop-a-Long in a sack an' sent 'im off ta a town called Youngsville."

"Youngsville? That's a day's journey from Hoop 'n Holler," Jeb replied. "I reckon that's where Dave an' Chuck were headin', too, when you caught up to 'em. Question is...why were they goin' all the way out there for?"

Ricochet sat for a long moment, thinking. "That's a question we'll have ta ask Dave 'n Chuck," he said.

"Are ya sure you wanna ask them, Sheriff?" Jeb asked. "They're kinda scared of ya."

"I need answers, Jeb, an' I won't get 'em if I don't ask," Ricochet said. He stood up from his chair, only for his head to start throbbing. With a small groan, he eased back into his chair. "Ooh...on second thought..."

Jeb made his way over to him then. "Sheriff, are ya alright?" he asked.

"R-Reckon goin' on only a half-hour of sleep wasn't good for me after all," Ricochet muttered, rubbing his head. "Geez, I've got a horrible headache now, an' I feel right exhausted, too."

"Alright, Sheriff, you're gonna get yourself some sleep," Jeb said. "The last thing we need is for ya to shut down durin' this case."

"But, Jeb-" Ricochet started.

"No buts. You need your rest. I'll interrogate those three while you get some sleep," Jeb replied. "I'll keep an eye on things and make sure no one bothers ya."

Ricochet sighed, but he then considered his options. He could continue on like this and later pass out from exhaustion, or he could take his new deputy's advice and get some much needed rest...or at least try to.

"For a fella who was the annoyin' siblin', you give some pretty sound advice thar, Jeb," Ricochet said. He got up from his chair. "I'll get an aspirin an' head up to bed." Before heading upstairs, he asked "Now, are ya absolutely sure ya wanna go on with this?"

"I'm sure as ever, Sheriff. You've gone two days without sleepin' much, an' that ain't good for ya," Jeb said. "I'll handle things 'round here 'til you get enough rest."

Ricochet nodded. "Alright. I'm countin' on ya, Jeb." With a small groan, he made his way up the stairs and to his room.

Jeb felt a small swell of pride in his chest. Ricochet Rabbit, his second biggest hero right behind his brother, was counting on him to handle things. After spending most of his day arguing, calming down and encouraging the distraught sheriff, he'd finally get to prove his worth as a deputy...well, junior deputy, that is. He wasn't here to fill in Droop-a-Long's shoes, after all.

"Don't worry, Sheriff. I won't let ya down," Jeb said. Fixing his hat, Jeb made his way back into the jail room.

His brother Zeb, whose cell was located right in front of the door, looked up at him in surprise. "Jeb..." he started. He ran over to the bars, gripping them tightly. "Jeb, I-I'm sorry 'bout all this. I was meanin' ta tell ya, but-"

"Zeb, I know you. If ya did somethin' bad, you'd never tell me. Rather, you'd try to put the blame on someone else," Jeb interrupted. His glare was hard as he looked at his older brother. "That's jus' what you did when ya attacked Mayor Nuggets, right? Ya pinned the blame on me, right?"

Zeb's face colored in embarrassment. "I...it was the first thing I could think of," he said pathetically. "I couldn't tell Mayor Nuggets who I was, or else that would've ruined the whole plan."

"Our plan was ruined the moment you didn't finish off Droop-a-Long like you were supposed to," Dave spat.

Jeb turned towards Dave. "Actually, I have some questions ta ask 'bout that," he said. "Sheriff Ricochet was gonna do it, but he's right exhausted after dealin' with you. So I'm fillin' in for 'im." He turned and closed the door, looking at all three men in turn. "Now, since ya gave us that very interestin' tip earlier, Dave, I'll start with you."

"I don't gotta explain nothin' ta no kid," Dave snapped.

Jeb's eyes narrowed. "Ya ain't makin' this easier on yourself, Dave. O 'course, I could tell Ricochet that you're givin' his deputy trouble..."

Dave snarled, but his face quickly went white as paper. It was clear he remembered Ricochet's fury from earlier. He didn't say anything else, and he looked down at the ground, fuming.

Jeb shrugged, but it was then that Chuck coughed out, "I-I'll explain since Dave doesn't want to," he said.

Dave snapped his head towards Chuck, his eyes ablaze with anger. "Chuck, don't you dare..."

"Smart feller, aren't ya?" Jeb answered. He walked over to Chuck's cell, pulled out a stool, and sat in front of the cell. "So, Chuck, tell me how ya came up with this idea to kill-"

"I-It wasn't my idea. It was Dave's," Chuck clarified. "I-I helped 'im out, though I must admit that I didn't trust his whole plan."

"I see. So, can ya tell me, in your own words, how this whole thing started?" Jeb asked. When Chuck hesitated, Jeb added, "Now, if ya hold back the truth from me, it won't get easier for ya...or for your business."

Chuck's eyes widened, as did Dave's. Jeb nodded sagely. "Yeah, I know all 'bout your business," he said. "You two run a wool factory in town, combinin' your company with Dave's to keep from losin' your money. If ya tell me now, you'd face scandal, maybe some profit loss an' a whole lot of angry folks, but at least you'd still have people runnin' the business. If the truth came out later..." Jeb shook his head and tsked. "Hoo boy, I shudder to imagine what'd happen."

Chuck swallowed. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and were going down the bridge of his nose. Zeb was watching the scene with wide eyes, while Dave glared at Chuck from the other side.

"It's your choice, Chuck," Jeb said, shrugging.

A long minute of silence filled the room. All eyes were on Chuck, who was working up a sweat. It was clear through his eyes that he was rapidly considering his options. If he told everything, Dave would kill him. But if he didn't tell, the truth would still come out, and worse things would happen to all three of them. And then there was Dave's gang to think about...

Swallowing, he said, "A-Alright, I'll tell. But if anyone asks, Zeb confessed first."

Zeb growled out a curse. Dave shook his head, frustration on his face. Jeb nodded. "Your story's safe with me," he said. He turned to his brother. "I'm gettin' your side next, an' then it's Dave last. Got it?"

Zeb nodded, while Dave grunted in response.

"Good." Jeb turned towards Chuck. "Now, as I was sayin' before, Chuck, can ya tell me 'bout your plan?"

Chuck nodded, doing his best to avoid Dave's patronizing glare, and started talking...


Havenport

Marcus McCloud's Base of Operations

Droop-a-Long set his coffee cup down at the table with a heavy sigh. Newly had made him another cup, but he couldn't bring himself to drink it, not after what he'd just learned about the people who'd taken him in. If he tried to drink or eat anything, he'd get a stomachache.

A little over an hour ago, Newly and Marcus had told him the entire story of how they'd come across him and why they were taking care of him. They were train robbers who stole precious goods from under people's noses and sold it to rich clients. Their boss apparently talked them into it when neither of them wanted to spend the rest of their lives working in the mines. Apparently, their boss also had connections to unsavory types, and the threat of death always loomed over both Newly and Marcus' heads. When they learned about Droop-a-Long, they figured that they'd keep him and take care of him in order to get reward money for when they did decide to tell Ricochet.

The news had shocked and angered Droop-a-Long. He'd thought he'd found some new friends, only to learn that they'd not only lied to him, but were planning to use him for money. He was nothing more than bait to them, he figured. He'd told them nearly everything about himself, and they probably hadn't cared a bit. He'd placed his faith in complete strangers, and where did that get him? Nothing but trouble, this time with the wrong side of the law. Droop-a-Long had been half-tempted to go to the sheriff's office and tell them what these "workers" had really been up to when they'd found him.

But when Newly had finished his story, Droop-a-Long had seen the regret in his eyes. And he knew then that he'd been wrong. Marcus may have been in it for the money, but Newly had cared about what had happened to him. Droop-a-Long had the feeling that if Marcus hadn't been there, Newly would have probably telephoned Ricochet like he'd asked him to earlier that afternoon.

Droop-a-Long looked over at the two men, who sat in front of the fireplace, eating their food silently. Even though these men were criminals, they were the only hope that he had if he was ever going to make it back to Hoop 'n Holler in one piece. And he didn't know what was going on over there, either. A gang could be running loose in town, and for all he knew, Ricochet could still be in jail, his offer having been turned down by the mayor.

Or even worse, the sheriff could be dead.

He looked over at his food, which he knew had to be cool by now. He had to push that thought away from his mind. If he allowed himself to believe that Ricochet was dead, then he'd lose all hope.

And he wasn't about to do such a thing.

"Hey, are ya eatin' that, or are ya jus' gonna sit there?" Marcus called.

Droop-a-Long looked up at Marcus, who had turned around in his chair to face him. Newly was focusing intently on the contents of his plate, chewing slowly. "I am plannin' on eatin', Mr. McCloud. But I've jus' got so much on my mind," he said.

Marcus scoffed. "What could you possibly be thinkin' about?" he asked.

"I..." Droop-a-Long sighed as he picked at his food. "I was thinkin' about home, Mr. McCloud. An' how I miss my friends."

"And? I reckon there's somethin' else you were gonna say, too, huh?"

Droop-a-Long groaned. "I was also thinkin' that I'd tell the sheriff of this town what you've been up to," he said, fixing Marcus with as deadly a glare as he could manage, "but I reckon you wouldn't like that idea."

"Darn right I won't," Marcus said. He pointed his fork in Droop-a-Long's direction. "An' you'd better get that idea outta your head, too."

"Why, 'cause you'll lose yer only way of makin' money, right?" Droop-a-Long countered.

"You'd better hush up, coyote, or else I'll kill ya!" Marcus got up from his chair. "I'll fill ya with so many holes, you'll look like Swiss cheese!"

"Do it," Droop-a-Long said. "I dare ya to do it."

"Alright, that's enough!" Newly shouted, getting up from his chair. "Both of ya need to shut up! Nobody's gonna be killin' anybody while we're here!"

"Says who?" Marcus snapped. "You ain't in charge!"

"Marcus, if you kill 'im, you're a dead man walkin'," Newly said. "I get that both of ya are mad, but shootin' each other is only gonna make things worse. Now, I mean it, both of ya, calm down."

Marcus glared at Newly, but he didn't say anything else. He sent a small glare to Droop-a-Long before stomping off to his room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Newly turned to Droop-a-Long. "You just caught yourself a break, Deputy. Marcus ain't a crap shot when it comes ta shootin'."

"I figured," Droop-a-Long said, cutting a piece of chicken with his fork and eating it. It was dry, but it'd have to do for now. "But he asked me what I was thinkin' so I told 'im."

Newly shook his head. "Look, I know you're still mad at us for what we did, an' what we planned ta do. If I was used a lot, I'd be pretty mad myself," he said. "But I reckon it's a good thing that Marcus found ya when he did."

Droop-a-long folded his arms. He couldn't deny that; if Marcus hadn't found him, he would've been dead by now. "Even so...it was right uncouth of ya to lie to me."

"I know. And I'm sorry for that. Really, I am. But we didn't wanna risk puttin' ourselves in danger," he said. "If the fellers who did this to ya found out that you were still alive, they'd come after all of us, an' they'll finish the job. Or even worse, they could kill ya when you're leavin'."

"Shucks...I didn't even think about that," Droop-a-Long muttered, his ears lowering. "Even so, I've gotta get back ta Hoop 'n Holler. I've gotta know what's goin' on an' iffin' everythin's alright."

Newly was quiet for a few moments more. Droop-a-Long stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes wide. "Do...do ya know what's been goin' on back in Hoop 'n Holler, Mr. Newly?" he asked.

He sighed. "I...Marcus told me not ta tell you when we got the papers today." After looking around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he pulled out a newspaper from under one of the mats on the table. He handed it to Droop-a-Long. "This one came in today. Apparently, Sheriff Ricochet arrested two fellas who gained their freedom by beatin' it outta the mayor."

Droop-a-Long scanned the newspaper quickly, gathering the most important details from it as much as he could. He was relieved to know that his fear of Ricochet turning up dead had been unfounded, and that Dave and Chuck had been captured and brought back to jail. But he was also worried about what his best friend was going through. He only hoped that he didn't beat the answers out of Dave and Chuck; he knew Ricochet well enough to know that he was not going to take people like them lightly.

One detail caught his attention: the name of Ricochet's new junior deputy, Jeb Forrest. This was a surprise. His friend, who was a farmer, was now working alongside Ricochet, helping him on the case. Droop-a-Long guessed that he'd heard the news of his disappearance and decided to join with Ricochet. It brought a small smile to his face. At least someone was sticking up for him.

"I wonder iffin' the other towns across from here knows what happened to me," Droop-a-Long pondered.

"If they didn't before, they will soon," Newly said. "But let's jus' hope that the wrong people don't learn 'bout what's happened to those fellas."


Outside of Hoop 'n Holler

"So...they've got our bosses in the calaboose, huh?" one of the men growled.

"Yeah, an' Zeb's locked up with them. It won't be long before the sheriff learns about where we are," another said.

"What do ya suppose we do, Bob?" a third asked.

Bob looked at the newspaper gripped tightly in his left hand. "Dave and Chuck told us to ride out to Youngsville to make sure that Droop-a-Long's dead. An' that's what we're gonna do," he said.

"An' if he ain't in that town?" another man piped up.

"Then we go through every town over 'til we find 'im. An' if he's still alive, we kill 'im," Bob said. He balled up the newspaper. "They said that that pesky sheriff's bouncin' back. We're gonna take 'im outta the race for sure."


Ricochet's Office...

Jeb exhaled softly as he walked out of the holding room at last, feeling both relieved and tired. Interrogating Dave, Chuck and his brother Zeb had taken almost all day, and Dave had proved to be a stubborn one, refusing to talk. It was only after Jeb had threatened to bring Ricochet back in that he decided to talk, although he was sour about it. It had taken a long time, but at least he'd gotten his answers, and now knew just why they wanted to punish Ricochet.

For the second time that day, anger ran hot through Jeb's veins. These two were nothing more than bigots towards both Ricochet and Droop-a-Long, despite what they said otherwise about Ricochet. They were simply jealous because Ricochet and Droop-a-Long were upholding the law better than they ever could, and simply wanted an excuse to off them.

Well, that seemed to be the case with Ricochet. In the case with Droop-a-Long, it was nothing more than senseless hatred, and they wanted to off Ricochet because he'd put an end to their "fun", because he'd protected his best friend from horrible people like them.

Calm down, Jeb. No need to get too worked up over this, he told himself, rummaging through the cupboard to find something to eat. To his dismay, he found nothing but sweets in the cabinet, most of which appeared to be carrot-flavored. Eventually, he found a small box of cheese crackers. He pulled those out and dug in the box, tossing a few of the bite-sized crackers into his mouth.

The three's answers had shed some light on the businessmen's plan, but now it lead to more questions. Zeb and the rest of the men, who formed up Dave's gang, had split up earlier that morning after Zeb had done his job, but finding them was proving to be a tricky matter. Dave said that he hadn't been in contact with his gang since last night, and he hadn't told them to go anywhere. He did mention, however, that the third-in-command of the gang, nicknamed Bazooka Bob, often took charge whenever he or Zeb weren't there and he could've led the other men anywhere. Jeb had the feeling that Dave was lying, but he couldn't afford to get riled up. There was a dangerous group of men on the loose, and they could be anywhere by now.

He groaned, setting down the box of crackers. "Now things are gettin' complicated..."

"...what's gettin' complicated, Jeb?"

Jeb jumped upon hearing that, and turned to face a sleepy Ricochet, who stood at the top landing of the stairs. "Shucks, Sheriff, don't scare me like that!" he cried.

Ricochet yawned as he made his way downstairs. "Sorry. I didn't mean to, honestly," he replied. "Came down for a quick snack, that's all."

"Ah, I see." Jeb studied the sheriff's eyes, noticing that they seemed heavier than they were earlier. "Did ya get any sleep at all, Sheriff?"

Ricochet rubbed his eyes. "I tried to. An' trust me, I need to. But I couldn't sleep for more than a few hours without dreamin' about what happened to Droop-a-Long," he answered.

"Aw, shucks...that's rough, Sheriff," Jeb replied.

Ricochet nodded, a despondent look on his face. "Let's face it, Jeb. the only way I'm ever gettin' any sleep is if we close this case an' get justice for Droop-a-Long."

"I think we might be close to gettin' to the end of it, Sheriff," Jeb said. "I jus' finished interrogatin' all three of 'em. An' they've given me some new details."

"Betcha they twisted around their story," Ricochet muttered bitterly. He headed for the cupboard and pulled out a box of carrot-glazed honey buns. "It's an old trick that all outlaws use."

Jeb shook his head. "Remember how Dave an' Chuck were gonna go out ta Youngsville?"

Ricochet turned towards him, honey bun in hand. "Yeah, so?"

"So, they were gonna take a whole group o' men with 'em. Originally, Zeb was gonna lead them out, but Dave said that he wanted ta take care of it personally, hence why Zeb an' the other fellers attacked J.P. Nuggets," Jeb said.

"An' what, pray tell, are they tryin' ta do?" Ricochet asked.

"They..." Jeb swallowed. "They were plannin' to go into Youngsville an' clean their tracks."

"Sounds like somethin' they'd do," Ricochet snarled, and practically tore into his honey bun with viciousness. Swallowing hard, he said, "No wonder Dave was mockin' me. He wanted me ta get my hopes up an' then crush 'em!"

"Thankfully, ya captured the two o' 'em before they got further out. But the third guy in charge, Bazooka Bob, might be headin' out to Youngsville ta do what Dave an' Chuck were supposed ta do," Jeb said. "Dave says he doesn't know where they are, but I think he's lyin'."

"Since all this went down last night, I reckon he is," Ricochet said. He finished off his bun with one bite. "We need ta go after them an' put 'em behind bars."

"You may need to get a posse, Sheriff. I don' know how many of 'em there are, but you're probably gonna need some help if you're goin' after 'em," Jeb said. "I reckon I'll stay here an' keep an eye on things while ya do."

"That'd be the best idea," Ricochet said. He offered up a small smile. "Ya did good Jeb, but this is only yer first test as junior deputy. Can I trust ya to hold things while I go out an' chase them down?"

Jeb nodded. "Ya sure can, Sheriff," he said. "Things'll be just as you left it when ya come back from your search."


The next morning...

The town of Youngsville, a small town located 50 miles east of Hoop 'n Holler, rarely saw excitement like its nearest neighbor did. Like most towns in the west, it wasn't without its ne'er-do-wells, but there were fewer of them than there were in Hoop 'n Holler. And due to the diligence of the sheriff there, the town was remotely peaceful.

Little did the residents of the town know that that peace was going to be shattered.

It was early that morning when the first few citizens walking about happened to see the men riding into town. All five of them were wearing dark clothing and appeared to be armed to the teeth with weapons. Bullet casings shone brightly in the rising sunlight.

The leader of the group, a tall, dark-haired man, brought his horse to a stop in front of an elderly gentleman who was sitting in his rocking chair. The man looked up at him with curious blue eyes.

"Why, howdy, stranger," he said. "What can I do ya for today?"

The stranger smiled thinly. "I'm lookin' for someone, and it's right urgent that I find 'im. I hear he's blown through Youngsville on a train," he explained. "Have ya seen 'im?"

"Well, maybe if you tell me what he looks like..."

"He's a coyote. Tall, lanky, very lean build. Covered in pink fur," the stranger said.

"Hmm...no, nobody like that's been seen around here," the old man replied. "He would've been famous 'round here if he was."

"I see. Thank you," the stranger replied. He turned towards the rest of his men, and then looked at the older gentleman. "Oh, an' if a sheriff by the name o' Ricochet Rabbit comes by here, tell 'im that I'm only helpin' him out on this case."

The old man looked confused at first, but a few seconds later, he nodded. "Got it, stranger."

With that, the stranger got his horse moving along, and the other men followed. Bazooka Bob turned towards one of the men next to him. "So, Droop-a-Long's not here after all," he said.

"How do you know that for sure?" the man asked. "For all we know, he could be lyin'."

"The sheriff of this town is friends with Ricochet, Paul. If Droop-a-Long turned up around here, he would've told 'im," Bob answered.

"Well, I'm pretty sure Sheriff Ricochet's gonna be comin' after us soon," Paul said. "What do we do if he comes by askin' 'bout us?"

"Then we finish what our bosses started," Bob said. "I want two of ya to stay behind in town an' keep an eye on things. If Ricochet gets too nosy, handle 'im. Joe, Eric an' I are gonna head to the next towns over to see if Droop-a-Long's there. An' if he's alive, we'll silence 'im."


Hoop n' Holler

An hour later...

"Sheriff, you've got everythin' you need, right?" Jeb asked.

"That I do, Jeb." Ricochet was packing his saddle with a few bags. "I've got a canteen o' water, plenty of ammunition, an' food when I get hungry on the journey. A sheriff always goes prepared."

"I hope the other members of your posse have enough water an' stuff, too," Jeb said, helping Ricochet fit his saddle with another bag. "You'll probably be out searchin' for hours."

"That's true. But I've got a feelin' that I'll close this case today," Ricochet said. He swung himself onto the saddle and adjusted his gun holster. "I'm-a give this my all an' put an end to this charade."

"I don't doubt ya for a second, Sheriff," Jeb said. "If anybody can catch 'em, it's you."

"Thanks, Jeb. I could use a vote o' confidence right 'bout now," Ricochet said. "Good luck to ya, Jeb."

Jeb nodded and offered a small smile. "You too, Sheriff. An' you be careful out there," he said.

Ricochet returned the smile. "Thanks, Jeb. You take care o' yourself, too," he said. With a shake of the horse's reins, he made his way towards the town entrance, where four other men were waiting for him. Not long after he made his way over there, the group set off.

Jeb sighed as he looked up at the sky. "I sure hope he gets 'em..."


Havenport

Marcus McCloud's Base of Operations

Droop-a-Long yawned as he walked out of the outhouse, scratching his backside as he did so. Although he knew he shouldn't complain about his surroundings, he much preferred the bathroom back at the sheriff's office than this. He only hoped the bathing situation wasn't worse.

He sighed as he entered the house again. It was mostly quiet, save for Newly's and Marcus' snoring. He made his way into the kitchen, and used his one good arm to open the door to the icebox. There was cheese, a plate of ham, and a black pot with a top on it, as well as a few bottles of sauces. Droop-a-Long pulled out the cheese and ham and made his way over to the shelves to see what else there was. He opened the shelf and encountered some more food there, but the breadbox caught his eye. He pulled out the box, and after confirming that there was indeed bread in there, he set that on the table.

Looking at his wares, he mused, "Well, looks like I'm-a be makin' breakfast for everyone this mornin'."

Twenty minutes later, he had the ham frying on the stove and three plates with slices of bread on them. He was stirring up the sliced pieces of ham when he heard one of the doors opening. He turned around to face Newly, who looked completely surprised to see him.

"Droop-a-Long, what are ya doin'?" he asked.

"Makin' breakfast. I was thinkin' of open-faced ham-'n-cheese sandwiches," Droop-a-Long replied. "I'd make coffee, too, but I reckon that's not the best idea."

"And yet ya managed to cut six slices of bread," Newly said.

"Well...my coffee makin' skills ain't that great, but it doesn't stop me from tryin'. I don't wanna end up messin' up a brew," Droop-a-Long said. He motioned to a chair with his shoulder. "Take a seat over there, Mr. Newly. I'll be done with the food in a bit."

Newly, still dumbfounded, made his way to the table. Marcus exited the room as soon as he sat down. "Somethin' smells good, Newly," he said. "Is that bacon?"

"Nope. The deputy's fryin' up some ham," Newly said, motioning to Droop-a-Long. "An' how he managed to do that with one arm, I have no idea."

"Trust me, fellers, this ain't the only time I've had to work with one arm," Droop-a-Long said. "I learned a neat lil' trick about how to cut things." He took the pan off the stove and placed it in a bowl with a cloth stuffed inside. After sliding the ham inside the bowl, he said, "Once this here drains, you fellers can pile on as much meat as you'd like. Jus' make sure you leave some for me."

Marcus and Newly looked at each other, and then back at Droop-a-Long. "Uh...thank you, Deputy," Marcus said.

Droop-a-Long gave a small smile. "You're welcome," he said. "Since I'm gonna be stuck here for a while 'til I can get to town on my own, might as well be useful..."

Both Newly and Marcus noted the sadness in Droop-a-Long's voice when he said that. Marcus sighed. "I'm pretty sure you're gonna get back home some time, Deputy. But right now, 'til we can be sure that there ain't any more threats to you, you're gonna have to sit tight."

Droop-a-Long nodded, but there was no hiding the sadness in his eyes. "I know. It's just that I can't see who else would want me gone. Dave 'n Chuck are in prison, an' so's the fellers who tried to kill me."

"I wouldn't be too sure on that," Marcus said. "People like Dave and Chuck have folks to do their dirty work. There are probably more men where they came from. Trust me, I know that all too well."

"I bet ya do," Droop-a-Long replied, setting the cheese on the plate.

Marcus groaned. "Look...I'm sorry 'bout what's happened, alright? An' I admit...tryin' ta money offa ya wasn't one of my best ideas," he said. "Turned out ta be more trouble than I thought."

"Marcus!" Newly admonished.

"Well, I'm statin' the truth, Newly!" Marcus shook his head. "But even though you found out about us, an' even though we may end up gettin' killed over havin' you around...I ain't sellin' you out, Deputy."

Droop-a-Long almost dropped the plate of cheese. "Mr. Marcus..."

"Look, readin' that paper changed my mind, alright?" Marcus snapped. He looked irritated and slightly embarrassed. "Readin' about what those folks did to ya an' all..."

Newly smirked upon seeing Droop-a-Long's surprised expression and Marcus' embarrassed one. "Reckon you ended up gettin' on Marcus' good side, Droop-a-Long," he said.

Marcus' response was to slug him in the arm. "Shut up, Newly."

"Even so, I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Marcus," Droop-a-Long said, offering the man a smile. "Ya don't know how good it feels ta have someone to help out."

Marcus sighed. "Yeah...sure."

Droop-a-Long shrugged. "Reckon I'll take that as a 'yer welcome' for now," he said, turning to the stove. "Now to check on this here food..."

"All jokin' aside, I jus' hope none of them come pokin' their noses around here," Newly said. Droop-a-Long brought over the plate of ham for them, and Newly started to use a fork to pile ham onto his piece of bread, and then passed the plate to Marcus. "With any luck, they've probably forgotten all 'bout you, Deputy."

"I'm hopin' on that," Droop-a-Long said, sitting in his chair. "Well...it won' do ta get too worked up over this." After Marcus had taken his share of ham, Droop-a-Long took the remainder and put it on the bread. He then handed both of them the cheese, and Droop-a-Long took a slice of cheddar from the top. "Dig in, fellers."


At the same time...

The sun was rising high into the sky as Ricochet and his posse trekked through the desert. Their horses were going as fast as they could, kicking up trails of dust behind them that could be seen for miles.

"Sheriff, I wish we knew where we were going," one of the men next to Ricochet said. "It's going to take too long with all this endless riding."

"I agree, Jim-Bob," someone else said, "but those boys didn't leave us any clues as to where they went."

"I know," Ricochet said. "But we'll find 'em, one way or another. And we won't stop 'til we do!"

This was met with a few groans from a few of the others, but nobody dared to complain out loud. Ricochet had told them earlier that he was taking this mission very seriously, and complaints would not be tolerated.

"Sheriff Ricochet, there's a town up ahead," Jim-Bob said. "Maybe the locals know where Dave's gang went. They could've blown straight through town on their way to their base."

"Let's find out if they did." Ricochet urged his horse forward and the party stampeded into Youngsville, catching the attention of many townspeople.

"What in tarnation is goin' on here?" someone shouted.

Ricochet brought his horse to a screeching stop, and then ordered everyone else to stop. Once the posse had stopped behind him, he faced the few townspeople that were gathered. "Alright, everyone, listen up! This is Sheriff Ricochet Rabbit!" he said.

This brought enthusiastic cries of surprise from everyone. "Holy moly, he's actually in town?" one man said. He turned around, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, "Hey everyone! It's Sheriff Ricochet Rabbit in the flesh!"

In seconds, an enthusiastic mob surrounded them.

"What's goin' on, Mr. Ricochet?" another man said.

"We're lookin' for a group of men who came through town," Ricochet said. "They're armed an' dangerous, not ta mention wanted for murder."

Horrified gasps and murmurs went throughout the crowd. Ricochet held up his hand to signal that he wasn't done speaking, and when the crowd was hushed, he continued with, "I'm offerin' a one-hundred dollar reward for anybody who knows where these people went. So, if anybody's got information, now's the time to tell me."

This got the people talking. Almost immediately, he was bombarded with many answers. Everyone was clamoring for his attention, but Ricochet got the feeling that most of them probably hadn't seen the men, or knew who they were. He sighed as he turned to Jim-Bob, who was shaking his head knowingly.

"These people here'll do anythin' for a quick buck," he said. "Reckon you won't get much answers now."

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Ricochet asked. "Simply askin' sometimes doesn't work either."

For a few more minutes, people were still shouting their answers. Ricochet was about to give up when he noticed someone was pushing through the crowd to get to him. "Wait! Wait, Sheriff Ricochet!" the person shouted. Ricochet could tell that it was an older man, perhaps in his seventies. "Sheriff, I think I know who's you're talkin' about!"

"Everyone, make way!" Ricochet jumped off his horse and made his way towards the crowd. Most of the people parted, but a few were still in his way. After pushing past them, he found himself standing face to face with the old man, who was using his cane to swat a few people out of the way. "Sir? Ya said you knew who I was talkin' about?"

"Pushy fellers 'round here," the old man grumbled. He then turned towards Ricochet. "Oh, howdy, Sheriff! Rare ta see you 'round these parts. We haven't seen ya since the Summer Barbecue."

"That was a fun event, but I'm afraid that this is jus' business. Now, you said you knew who the people were?"

"One of 'em was a tall feller-reminded me of how I looked when I was his age. He had dark hair an' had lotsa bullets on his gun holster," the old man said. "He asked me if there was a coyote in town."

Ricochet nodded. Now he was getting somewhere. "What exactly did he say?"

"He said that it was real important that he found this coyote. He said he had pink fur, an' that he was tall an' lanky. I said that we haven't seen nobody like that 'round here. He thanked me, an' he an' his gang went on their way. But before he left, he told me ta say that he was only helpin' you out, Sheriff."

"He ain't helpin' the sheriff out, old man. He's helpin' his boss cover up a murder," Jim-Bob answered.

"He didn't know that Bazooka Bob an' the others were criminals. Reckon they kept their profile real low," Ricochet said. He turned towards the old man. "Are ya sure they all went on their way?"

"I think so. After he left, I took a nap," the old man said.

"Last time I remember," another person said, "two o' the men split up from the group an' went to the east part of town. The other three left."

Jim-Bob looked over at Ricochet. "Ya think they're here to spy on us?"

"It's a good possibility, Jim-Bob. An' I think Bazooka Bob went to the next town to see if Droop-a-Long was there," Ricochet said.

"So we've gotta go to the next town over ta stop these fellas?" another man said.

"I believe we do. But first, I need to find those other two men," Ricochet said. "We're gonna get some answers from 'em." He turned towards the townspeople. "Where'd you last see those two men?"

"Well, I know one of 'em went to the saloon," someone said. "But I don't know where the other one went..."

"We'll search there first," Ricochet said. "We'll find 'em, or my name isn't-"

"Sheriff PING-PING-PINNGG! Ricochet Rabbit. Ya need ta find yerself a new catchphrase, pal," someone interrupted.

Ricochet turned around. "Who said that?"

"Oh, wait, who am I kiddin'?" The cocking of a gun filled Ricochet's ears, and immediately, the townspeople ran for cover, screaming in terror. "You won't need one once I'm done with ya."

Ricochet turned around, and the barrel of a gun met his face. A tall lanky man with messy hair and a twisted smile stood before him, the gun held casually in his hand. Ricochet smirked back. "I wouldn't shoot if I was you," he said.

Multiple gun cocks could be heard, and the man turned to face Ricochet's posse, who all had rifles pointed at his head. "Yeah, that wouldn't be a good idea," Jim-Bob said, holding his gun steady. "Put the gun down. An' take your holster off." He then motioned to another man behind Ricochet. "Same for your pal, too."

A series of curses filled the air and Ricochet heard the clattering of guns hitting the ground. The man in front of him also dropped his gun and raised his hands in the air. With the threat to his life already past, Ricochet stood up a little straighter. "Now that we've got that situated, I've heard that you an' yer gang were lookin' for someone."


Havenport

"Are ya sure he's here, Bob?" Paul said. "We thought we had 'im back in Chapel Hill."

"This has to be the place," Bazooka Bob said. "This is the only other town where that train passed through. The next town over is fifty miles away."

"An' he'd be dead by then," Paul said. "Let's see if the locals know anythin' about 'im."

The three men made their way into town, bringing their horses to a stop outside of the train station. A worker was sitting there, eating lunch. He looked up at Bazooka Bob and tipped his hat towards him. "Howdy, sir. Welcome ta Havenport. What can I do ya for?" he said.

"We're lookin' for someone, and it's right urgent that we find 'im. I hear he's blown through Youngsville on a train, but we had no luck there," he explained. "Have ya seen 'im?"

"Well, maybe if you tell me what he looks like..."

"He's a coyote. Tall, lanky, very lean build. Covered in pink fur," Paul said.

"Hmm...a coyote...Ah!" The worker snapped his fingers. "Yeah, there's someone like that 'round here. Calls himself Deputy Droop-a-Long. He came in on a train a few days ago. He was in a bag, too. Someone did a number on 'im, 'cause he was beaten to a pulp. The doc came by an' was able ta save his life."

"You know where he is right now?" Bazooka Bob asked.

The worker paused. "Reckon he's at one of the worker's houses a few minutes into town. One of 'em took 'im in, an' nobody's seen 'im since then."

"What's the worker's name?"

"Don't know. All I know is that he moved here recently. He ain't much of a talker, though," the worker said. He looked at Bazooka Bob. "Are you here to bring Droop-a-Long back to Hoop 'n Holler?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Bazooka Bob said. "We're a few of Sheriff Ricochet's deputies. An' since he's not up to the task, we're doin' it for 'im."

"That's right neighborly of ya," the worker replied. "I bet he'll be relieved. We've heard of what's happenin' in that town, an' with him bein' so busy with them other fellers..."

"He sure will. Where do the workers live?"

"They live right behind the train station. Reckon that new feller lives all the way down, close to the border."

Bazooka Bob tipped his hat to the man. "Thanks for the information."

As he turned to lead the men into town, Bazooka Bob allowed a cruel smile to come on his face. "More like Dave will be relieved."


Marcus McCloud's Base of Operations

"Hey, Newly, I'm gonna be headin' out!" Marcus shouted from the front door.

"Alright, go already!" Newly snapped. "You're late enough as it is!"

Marcus sighed as he closed the door. He was lucky enough to have a benevolent boss; most bosses would've fired him if they'd learned that he was late for getting a case of indigestion.

It wasn't that Droop-a-Long had caused it. Droop-a-Long's food was good-possibly the best he'd ever had this side of the country-but wolfing down food was a habit he'd really have to break.

As he was heading out, he heard the sounds of horse's hooves hitting the dirt. He turned around to see three men on horseback making their way in his direction, scanning the streets as they passed the houses. A part of him wanted to ignore them and keep going, but as he started to do just that, he got the feeling that these men were not to be trifled with. He froze in his tracks, and the men soon rode up to him.

"Howdy." The leader of the men, a dark-haired man with piercing eyes, looked down at him. "Are you one of the newer workers 'round here?"

Marcus shrugged. "Yeah, I am. Recently moved here from New Mexico," he said. "Can I help ya?"

"Actually, ya can. We're deputies of Ricochet Rabbit, and we're lookin' for his deputy, Droop-a-Long Coyote. Seein' as the sheriff is busy dealin' with the folks who almost beat him ta death, we took it upon ourselves to retrieve 'im."

"That's right nice of you fellers," Marcus answered. "I'm sure that the sheriff will be glad to hear of that."

"Yeah, he sure will be. Listen, one of the workers who worked at the train station said that one o' their own took that coyote in. You know 'im, by any chance?"

"Not really. We get a handful of new recruits all the time," he lied. "Reckon one of them is the feller you're lookin' for." He smiled. "Now, if y'all will excuse me, I need to get to work. I'm late enough as it is."

He started to walk past them, but one of the men next to the leader jumped down from his horse and grasped his shoulder. "I'm sure ya can spare us a few minutes more an' tell us where he is," he said.

Marcus shrugged off his arm. "I told ya, I'm late! My boss'll fire me if I don't get down there soon!"

"Aw, come on! Help out a feller here, won't ya?" Joe gave Marcus a suspicious glare. "You ain't hidin' nothin' from us, are ya?"

"No, I'm not. I've told ya all that I know 'bout it!"

"If that's so, then why're you sweatin' bullets?" the man questioned. He grasped Marcus' vest with enough force to rip it off. "It ain't that hot yet!"

Marcus looked around at all three men, the latter two starting to get down from their horses. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Newly peering out the window, eyes wide.

The leader of the gang turned in his direction, saw Newly, and whipped out his gun. Newly had no time to get out of the window before he opened fire, blowing a hole in the window. Marcus heard a loud scream, and he struggled to get out of the man's grip.

"Whatsa matter?" his captor taunted.

"Let me go! Don't bring Newly into this!" he said. "I'll tell ya anythin'!"

"Like I'll believe that," the man snarled, and threw Marcus down on the ground. He pointed at the other man. "Eric, watch 'im. Bob, we're gonna search the house, right?"

"Yeah." Bazooka Bob turned towards Marcus with a glare that could wither a tree. "If you were lyin' to us, you're gonna pay." With a nod of his head, he and Joe walked into the house, guns in hand.

Marcus tried to move, but his new captor stepped on his back and pointed a gun at his head. Eric snickered.

"You don' lie ta Bazooka Bob an' live ta tell about it, kid," he sneered. "An' if the deputy's in thar, he's not gonna live long either."

Marcus' blood ran cold at those words.


Droop-a-Long ran out of the room upon hearing the door being violently kicked open. He'd been reading earlier after breakfast, and had thought he'd been imagining the loud pop that had rung through the house. "Mr. Newly, what's goin'-"

He froze upon seeing the scene in front of him. Newly was on the floor and writhing in agony, one hand covering his left eye . A small pool of blood covered part of the floor. Standing in the doorway were two men, armed to the teeth with weapons. Bazooka Bob smiled cruelly at him.

"Well, well, well. You really did survive after all," he said. "Dave was right 'bout you animal folks bein' tough."

"Who are you?" Droop-a-Long demanded.

"I'm Bazooka Bob, the leader of Dave's gang. An' I'm here ta finish what Zeb started," he said, cocking his rifle. "Ricochet will never find out the truth."

Droop-a-Long inched towards the fireplace, where one of Marcus' spare shotguns was placed. "You'll hang iffin' ya go through with this, Mr. Bazooka. I'm askin' ya to reconsider this."

"I have my orders," Bazooka Bob answered. "An' I'm gonna carry them out."

Droop-a-Long rested his hand on the butt of the shotgun. "I don't think so."

Bazooka Bob took aim, and Droop-a-Long raised his shotgun just in time. He opened fire, and the shot blew off part of the doorframe. Bazooka Bob's partner hit the porch. Droop-a-Long dove for cover as Bazooka opened fire, blowing a hole through the wall. Fire coursed through his body as he hit the floor, but he forced himself to block it out as he made his way towards the shuddering Newly, who was still holding his eye.

He heard the cocking of a gun. "Not so fast, Deputy!" Bazooka Bob snarled, taking aim at him again.

Droop-a-Long raised his gun and fired before he did, and a sharp report filled the air. The shot hit Bazooka Bob square in the chest, and knocked him into his partner, who'd just gotten up. Both of them tumbled onto the porch in a heap. Outside, people began screaming in terror and running for their lives.

Droop-a-Long turned towards Newly, who was still shuddering and letting out small, choked cries of pain. "H-Hang on, Mr. Newly," he gasped, pulling the man to his feet and slinging an arm around his shoulders. "I-I'm-a get ya to a doctor or somethin' soon, but first I've gotta stop these people from killin' all of us."

Droop-a-Long dragged Newly along, placing him inside the guest bedroom. He grabbed a nearby towel and covered the wounded eye with a spare hand towel in order to stop the bleeding. "Y-You jus' hang on, Newly, alright?"

A loud shout filled his ears. "BOB!" This was quickly followed by a curse, and then the cocking of a gun. "Deputy!"

Droop-a-Long's ears perked up, realizing it was Bazooka's partner bellowing his name. He made his way back out of the room, closed the door, and readied his shotgun. His expression was fierce as he faced the man in question, whose eyes were wild with rage.

"You got any last words, Deputy?!" Joe snarled.

Droop-a-Long glared back at him. "You fellers tried ta kill me once. You ain't gonna finish the job."

The ensuing blast from the shotgun could've been heard for miles.


Chaos greeted Ricochet as soon as he and the posse entered the town. Gunshots filled the air, and people were running around in terror, almost trampling each other to death to get to the exit. Ricochet looked around, bewildered. "What in the world is goin' on?!"

"You there!" Jim-Bob pulled aside a fleeing worker. "What's goin' on?"

"T-There's a shootout at the work district. Three fellers just showed up in town, an' the next thing we know, they're shootin' up someone's house!" the man explained breathlessly. "The sheriff's gone ta handle it, but-"

"That's all I need ta know!" Ricochet interrupted. "Come on, y'all. We're gonna stop these fellers once an' for all!"


Marcus looked up as Joe flew off of the porch and slammed into the ground, blood gashing from his stomach. Droop-a-Long made his way out of the house, a shotgun in hand and smoke coming from its barrel. His eyes widened in shock. "Droop-a-Long, what are you doin'?!"

"You!" Eric snarled. He turned to face Droop-a-Long, his gun aimed at the coyote. "I'll kill ya for what you did ta Bazooka Bob!"

Droop-a-Long glared at him and took aim at the man. "Your friend already tried to. I wouldn't iffin' I was you," he said.

Eric stepped off of Marcus' back and got closer to the porch. "You cheeky little-"

Marcus took his chance. He leaped up off of the ground and tackled Eric to the ground right before the gun went off. The bullet hit the roof, and Droop-a-Long ducked for cover on instinct. In a matter of seconds, Marcus and Eric were wrestling on the ground, dust flying everywhere as they both wrestled for control of the gun in Eric's hand.

When Eric tried to turn the gun towards his head, Marcus elbowed him hard in the face, causing him to cry out in pain. One of his hands immediately went for his eye, and with his grip loosened, Marcus was able to wrench the gun away. He glared at Eric, and raised his gun arm.

"This is for what you did to Newly!" He slammed the butt of the gun against the back of Eric's head, knocking him out.

A cry of pain filled his ears moments later. He turned to see Droop-a-Long stagger, and then fall to his knees, his right arm clutching his side. Blood pooled from his paw and onto the floor. Towering over the injured coyote was Bazooka Bob's partner, Joe, who was holding a bloodstained knife in his right hand and grasping his side with his left hand. Blood pooled from his wound and dripped onto the floor, and Joe was obviously struggling to keep standing. But even from where Marcus was standing, he could see Joe's murderous gaze.

"You're goin' down for that, coyote," Joe snarled, and staggered closer to the coyote, his knife stained red.

"NO!" Marcus yelled, a sound that caught Joe off-guard. When Joe turned around, Marcus opened fire, and Joe crumpled on the steps, his knife clattering next to him.

Droop-a-Long looked over at Marcus, a look of shock and utter relief in his eyes. Marcus got to his feet and walked over to the porch, taking a look at Bazooka Bob and Joe's dead bodies. He then turned to Droop-a-Long. "Where's Newly?" he asked.

"H-He's inside the guest room. He got hit in the eye an' he's bleedin' real bad!" Droop-a-Long said. "You've gotta get him to the doctor or somethin'!"

"I will. In the meantime, you get back inside an'-"

"Halt, in the name of the law!"

Marcus growled out a curse. He turned to see an older man running towards him, sweat beading on his brow. A gold star glinted brightly on his chest. "You there! Are you the one who started this attack?" he shouted.

"No!" Marcus said. "That feller on the ground is one of the people who started it."

The sheriff looked down at the knocked out Eric, and then at him. "You ain't lyin', are ya?"

Marcus shook his head. "These three men were sent here to kill the deputy of Hoop 'n Holler," he said. "I killed one of 'em, and the deputy killed their leader."

The sheriff looked at Droop-a-Long for clarification, and the coyote just nodded, as he was in too much pain to speak. Right before the sheriff could say anything else, the drumming of horse's hooves filled the air. He turned around to see Ricochet and his posse make his way into the area, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Sheriff Ricochet!" he cried as Ricochet pulled up to a stop beside him. "Ya missed most o' the action, I'm afraid. Two o' three men who started the firefight are already dead."

"So much for catchin' Bazooka Bob," Jim-Bob groaned.

"I'm jus' glad we got here before things got worse," Ricochet replied. "Is everyone alright?"

"Mostly, though one of the men has a severe eye injury. Even so, that deputy of yours managed to hold his own, despite bein' injured," the sheriff continued, motioning towards the porch. "He even killed their leader."

Ricochet's eyes widened. "My deputy?" he repeated.

Jim-Bob looked in the direction where the sheriff was pointing at. "Hey, look fellas! It's Deputy Droop-a-Long!" he cried.

Ricochet turned in Jim-Bob's direction. When his eyes settled on Droop-a-Long, his mouth turned upwards into a smile, and his eyes became glossed over with tears. The posse surrounding him let out whoops of joy.

"H-Howdy, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long called, raising his free arm in the air and waving at the rabbit. He attempted a small smile. "I know I look worse for wear, but I'm alright...mostly."

Ricochet wiped his eyes and sniffled. "For goodness sakes', Droop-a-Long...don't you ever scare me like that!" he said.

"Sorry, Mr. Ricochet. I would've told ya that I was alive, but things happened, an' I couldn't," Droop-a-Long said. He tried to sit up, but it caused his wound to flare up with pain and he winced. "Agh...an' I couldn't have made it back anyway..."

Ricochet was off of his horse and at his deputy's side in less than two seconds. When he saw the wound on his side, his eyes widened. "Where'd ya get this from, Droop-a-Long?!" he asked.

"Jus' now. One o' Bazooka Bob's men stabbed me for shootin' their boss. Marcus got 'im before he could kill me," Droop-a-Long answered.

Ricochet turned to Marcus, a stern glare on his face. "Well, what are ya still standin' here for?! Ya need ta call the doctor, immediately!" he ordered.

"Uh...right!" Marcus said, and he raced into the house, heading straight for the phone. As he did so, he overheard Ricochet yelling at Droop-a-Long.

"What were ya thinkin', goin' up to fight when you're still injured? Anymore injuries like this an' you would've been dead!"

"I had ta do somethin', Mr. Ricochet! People would've been killed," Droop-a-Long replied.

A small smile appeared on Marcus' face. For the first time in his life, he was never happier to have one of his plans go wrong.


Later that day...

Droop-a-Long sighed as he relaxed in his bed. After the whirlwind of a day he'd had, he needed the rest. Plus, the doctor that had come by to treat his wound had ordered him to stay in bed until he was well enough to recuperate in Hoop 'n Holler. Ricochet had also agreed with this decision, and would hear no protests on the matter whatsoever.

As for Newly, he'd had to go to the doctor's office to get operated on, since his injury was more serious. Marcus had gone to the office to check on him, as had the sheriff. By now, the news of Marcus' illegal operations had reached him, and the sheriff was planning on questioning Newly when he was well enough to talk.

He just hoped that things would start to settle down now that the bad guys had been apprehended. But he really hoped that Newly and Marcus wouldn't be hit with a lot of jail time for this. Even though they were criminals, they had done a good deed in saving his life. He knew that the town sheriff and Ricochet would probably frown on his judgement, but it didn't matter to him. He only hoped that if they did go to jail, they'd learn their lesson and become better people because of it.

He was reading when he heard a series of knocks on his door. "Come in," he called, setting the book aside.

The door opened and Ricochet came in with a tray of hot food, covered with a blue and white cloth. He looked exhausted, as he had some bags under his eyes and they were slightly red, but he offered up his trademark warm smile towards Droop-a-Long. "Reckon ya might be a bit hungry since everythin' that's happened 'round here, so I fixed us some lunch," he said. He kicked the door closed and made his way over to the nightstand. "I even went to the trouble of gettin' a few hot dogs for ya."

"I think I can manage a lil' bit 'o chow," Droop-a-Long said as Ricochet started to plate their food. "Thanks."

"No prob. After all, the doc said ta make sure you keep up yer appetite," Ricochet said. "Have ya been eatin' a lot since then, Droop?"

"Yeah. I couldn't eat meat at first, but little by little, I started to. Today, I made ham 'n cheese sandwiches," Droop-a-Long said. After taking his plate, he picked up a biscuit and took a bite. "Marcus 'n Newly took a likin' to my cookin'. I figured that he was probably gonna keep me around as their chef."

"Well, you did say before that you're the best jailhouse cook in the Pecos," Ricochet said.

"True. But I kinda took that back when we had that family o' wolves stay in jail for two years." Droop-a-Long shuddered at that memory. "That was a nightmare..."

Ricochet chuckled as he sat in the chair facing the bed. "That's what happens when ya get what ya wish for, Droop," he said. "An' regardin' Newly an' Marcus, ya told me about their whole plan to get money by takin' care of you. They'll be disappointed to know that there ain't a reward."

"I figured. You always were kinda stingy 'bout those kinds of things."

Ricochet fixed Droop-a-Long with a patronizing glare. "Now what is that supposed ta mean?" he demanded.

"Oh, I meant nothin' by it, Mr. Ricochet. It's jus' a little joke," Droop-a-Long, offering up a small smile. "But ta be honest, I reckon he an' Mr. Newly aren't even worrying about reward money. I'm happy that neither of them lost their lives. I feel bad for Mr. Newly, though. He lost his left eye in that shootout..."

"That's gotta be rough," Ricochet answered, stirring his mashed potatoes with his fork. Even though he'd brought in enough food for two helpings for both of them, he'd lost his appetite just as quickly. In fact, he felt nauseous. "But I'm grateful to 'em. They took ya in when nobody else did."

"Yeah. I'm grateful to them, too," Droop-a-Long said, shoving the rest of his biscuit into his mouth. "Iffin' it weren't for them, I wouldn't be alive."

"Y-Yeah."

Droop-a-Long paused, and turned towards Ricochet, who was shuddering. He set his fork down, and turned towards the sheriff, wincing as he did so. "M-Mr. Ricochet?"

Ricochet's only response was a hoarse, choked out whisper, one that carried so much emotion that it stopped Droop-a-Long short. "Thank goodness you're alive…"

Droop-a-Long stared at him in surprise as he started to shudder. The plate of food clattered to the floor, but it mattered little to Ricochet, who was starting to sob. It then sunk in as to why Ricochet was shuddering so much…"M-Mr. Ricochet-"

"I-I thought you were dead!" Ricochet shouted. He knew he probably sounded like a mess, but he didn't care. He swiped at his eyes, but it did nothing to stop his tears. "I-I thought you were dead a-an' gone, Droop-a-Long!" In a smaller, choked up voice, he whispered, "I-I-I thought I-I'd lost you for good…"

Droop-a-Long started to get out of bed, his concern for his friend overriding his pain. "Please don't cry, Mr. Ricochet," he pleaded, stumbling over to Ricochet. He felt tears start to burn in his eyes as he said it. "I-I can't stand to see people cry…"

"L-Let me cry j-jus' this once, Droop-a-Long," Ricochet said. "I-I need to a-after all I've been through, tryin' ta wrap up this case a-an get justice for ya…" He sniffled heartily. "A-After Nuggets told me w-what ya did to get me outta that prison, I-I came back to the office. I-I saw your blood on the floor…and your hat 'n necktie…" The memory of the discovery flashed through Ricochet's mind, and his face twisted. "I-I thought you were dead. E-Everyone in town t-thought you were dead."

"Ta be honest, I-I thought I was gonna die, too," Droop-a-Long said, wiping his eyes.

"I-I thought you were gone. I felt l-like I was a failure; I'd promised m-myself that I-I'd protect you. I'd stop whatever came t-ta hurt you," Ricochet said.

Droop-a-Long was shocked. "M-Mr. Ricochet, you ain't a failure. You did everythin' you could-"

"No, I didn't. If I did everythin' I could, you wouldn't be h-here, lookin' half-dead!" Ricochet interrupted. "Y-You almost died, an' I wasn't there to help ya. I wasn't there…"

"Mr. Ricochet, I ain't defenseless or nothin'," Droop-a-Long said. "I can handle myself jus' as well as anyone. Ya don't have to protect me."

"Y-You still don't get it, do ya, Droop-a-Long?" Ricochet said. "Y-You're one of the nicest people in town, a-an' you're awfully thoughtful, always tryin' ta help someone. Folks have t-taken advantage of ya, o-or they jus' hurt ya for no reason. A-After what happened with Dave an' Chuck, I swore t-that I'd protect you. A friend o' m-mine told me that I can't protect e-everyone...but ain't nobody messin' with my best friend, whatever the reason."

Droop-a-Long swallowed back a lump in his throat. "Mr. Ricochet…"

"B-But then you defended me in front of most of the folks in town at Town Hall. And ya almost paid for it with your life." He looked up at Droop-a-Long finally, his expression teary and angry. "Why didn't you listen to me, Droop-a-Long?! If you had listened ta me, y-you wouldn't be in this mess! Ya wouldn't be here, lookin' like this!"

"Mr. Ricochet, iffin' I had listened to ya, those fellers that came by the office ta get ya would've killed me. They were supposed ta kill me way before, but they didn't. I-I reckon that if they killed the deputy on top of jailin' the sheriff, the townsfolk would know somethin' was up. Dave 'n Chuck jus' sent 'em to finish the job," Droop-a-Long explained. "And I didn't want to leave ya in there alone. Those fellers were insultin' you, an' I would've felt right guilty iffin' I sat back an' said nothin' to defend you."

"I told you to let me w-worry about defendin' myself, Droop-a-Long!" Ricochet protested. "Why did ya have ta be so stubborn an' try ta handle things by yourself?! Y-You put yourself in danger!"

Droop-a-Long sighed. "I-I know. An' I know I should've left it alone, like ya said. But I couldn't. You were willin' to go to jail in order to defend me, Mr. Ricochet. Ya risked your career for me," he said.

"Y-Ya don't have ta remind me o' that. B-But you risked your life, knowin' full well w-what they were c-capable of..."

"Real friends defend each other no matter what, like ya said. After you said that you'd always have my back, I had ta do somethin' to help you. I knew you'd be angry, but…I didn't wanna go on about my job without tryin', Mr. Ricochet. I woulda tried anythin' if it meant you came back as sheriff. Well...nothin' illegal, though, but I'd try every option I could." He looked down at Ricochet. "That's my way of protectin' my best friend."

Ricochet sniffled, and he smiled a little. "Y-You're too nice for your own good, Droop. In hindsight, I-I shoulda known you was gonna do that," he said. His smile faded. "When I came back to office a-and saw the damage, an' saw that you was missin'…that made me t-think that I f-failed, that I-I broke my word. A-As soon as I got in thar, I-I…I broke, Droop-a-Long. I couldn't do anythin' without thinkin' about w-what happened. I-I almost gave up."

"I-It was that bad?" Droop-a-Long asked.

"Y-You have n-no idea how d-devastated I was, Droop. I-I couldn't eat, sleep, or do nothin' w-without feelin' guilty or angry at myself…"

"Oh, Mr. Ricochet…I-I'm so sorry," Droop-a-Long said. "I-I didn't mean to make you that worried…"

"I-I should still be shoutin' at you, 'cause you went out an' decided to get me outta jail even when I told ya not to. But r-right now…right now, I'm jus' glad you're alive, Droopy." Ricochet rubbed his eyes. "A-And more than anythin', I'm glad I took Jeb's advice an' didn't give up on you."

"I-I'm glad you didn't, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long said, returning the hug. "If ya had, I-I may've…"

"Don't talk like that. Don't even go there," Ricochet said. "Nothin' would've helped if you died."

"W-What happened to them, Mr. Ricochet?"

"Them?"

"Dave an' Chuck's men. Are they behind bars?"

"Yeah, Jeb's caught the two that were tryin' ta lead me off track, and I'm bringin' Eric back to Hoop 'n Holler so he can face their crimes," Ricochet answered. His gaze darkened. "Considerin' everythin' that lot's done, that's the most merciful option I can come up with."

"You were thinkin' of killin' them? That's inhumane, Mr. Ricochet."

"What they did to you is inhumane!" Ricochet snapped, looking up at Droop-a-Long. "T-They…they harassed and abused you, then ordered Jeb's own brother to kill you in order to get revenge, and then tried ta off me an' take my job...an' then Dave n' Chuck ordered 'em to finish the job! It's a miracle that Zeb didn't have the heart ta kill ya, a-and that you survived that whole thing. If you had died, I would've forgotten I had this here badge on my chest." The incident with Dave flashed briefly in his mind, but he didn't want to upset his deputy even more.

"I get that you're angry, Mr. Ricochet. I ain't happy, either, but if you'd tried ta get revenge, you woulda died, too."

Ricochet sniffled. "I-I know that. B-But for a brief moment, the thought of killin' them crossed my mind. I wanted to make 'em pay for what they did to you, and what they almost tried to do to me," he said. "But…a part of me knew that it wasn't right, and that I would only make things worse. Also…I had the feelin' you would've been right upset with me."

"Mr. Ricochet, I don't mind ya gettin' justice, but committin' a crime to pay for another one would only mess ya up," Droop-a-Long said. When Ricochet still didn't look convinced, he continued with, "Puttin' them behind bars is enough for me, Mr. Ricochet. I'm jus' glad that Dave an' Chuck aren't gonna hurt nobody else. An' more than anythin', I'm glad that I'm still alive."

"S-So am I, Droop…" That was all Ricochet managed to get out before he buried his face in Droop-a-Long's fur and began to cry. The sobs he'd been holding back for days started racking his frame, and were escaping his throat. He tried to contain them, but he found that it was impossible. It wasn't long before he gave up trying to hide them, and cried in earnest.

Droop-a-Long didn't say anything to quiet him. He simply patted Ricochet on the shoulder with his good hand; although it wasn't much, he had to do something to comfort the sheriff. After everything he'd been through, it'd been a breakdown waiting to happen. Ricochet's tears seeped into his fur, and he fought back the urge to cry himself. Times like these made him wish for Ricochet's steelier resolve; his soft heart couldn't take much of this.

This incident had affected Ricochet far worse than what had happened with Sam Jose; it was easy to see for anyone who knew the sheriff. And Droop-a-Long knew Ricochet very well. Friends and family were the world to him, and if he'd lost either, he would shut down. Droop-a-Long had found that out the day after the Sam Jose case, where he'd been recovering after the outlaw had shot him. Ricochet had lost his composure then, telling him how worried he was, and that he blamed himself for not watching out for him. Droop-a-Long had comforted Ricochet then, telling him that he had no reason to blame himself for what happened, that he'd done his job in apprehending Sam Jose.

But this wasn't as simple. This time, he'd almost died, and Ricochet had not only thought he was dead, but he also thought that he'd failed in doing his duty, in keeping his vow to protect his best friend. He'd even almost given up, something that Droop-a-Long had a hard time imagining. Ricochet never gave up on anything, especially when people he cared about were in danger.

Just from taking a look at him, Droop-a-Long knew it would take more than one pep talk to help Ricochet.

It would be a little while before Ricochet's sobbing slowed. By this point, the bandages that covered Droop-a-Long's stomach were soaked through with Ricochet's tears. But the coyote didn't care about that. He focused on the shuddering sheriff, who was still buried in his fur.

"Are…" Droop-a-Long looked down at Ricochet, who was sniffling. "Are ya gonna be okay, Mr. Ricochet?"

"U-U-Uh-huh. I-I w-will be," Ricochet answered finally, wiping his eyes. He removed himself from Droop-a-Long at last. The yellows of his eyes had gone a pinkish red due to his tears. "I-I'm sorry b-bout that, Droopy. I-I was holdin' all that in an'-"

"I don't blame ya a bit, Mr. Ricochet. Iffin' our places were switched, I would've never stopped cryin'," Droop-a-Long interrupted. "I'm jus' glad that you got all that out." He smiled. "Thanks for rescuin' me, Mr. Ricochet."

"Y-Yeah, you're welcome, Droop." Ricochet wiped his eyes, and sighed deeply. "I-I'm jus' happy that you're alive…"

"Me too," Droop-a-Long replied. "Now, I reckon we oughta finish our food."

Ricochet looked down at his plate, which was smashed against the floor, and he sighed. "I-I think I'll hold off on eatin' right now..."

"You've gotta eat somethin' after cryin' that much, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long said. "You'll starve yourself, an' that ain't good."

"Well...I'll try ta eat somethin'," Ricochet said. "An' afterwards, I'll try ta get some sleep before we head out tomorrow."

"Alrighty then," Droop-a-Long said. "How's about we talk about somethin' else ta cheer ya up?"

Ricochet smiled. "I'd like that, thanks."


Six weeks later...

Ricochet opened the door to Droop-a-Long's room and checked in on his deputy, careful to be as quiet as possible so he wouldn't be disturbed. He shouldn't have bothered with the precautions, however: Droop-a-Long was sleeping on his stomach, his head buried in the pillow, body tangled up in the covers and snoring loudly. Ricochet sighed, a smile on his face. It was half past ten, and the coyote was still asleep. He cracked the door closed and tiptoed away, despite knowing well that Droop-a-Long could sleep through an entire day until he smelled food.

As he made his way down the stairs, a sweet aroma filled his nostrils. He peered around the corner, and saw Jeb at the stove, stirring something in a pot. "Whatcha makin', Deputy Jeb?" he asked.

Jeb turned to face him, a friendly smile on his face. "Apple n' cinnamon oatmeal," he said. "I also made some coffee if ya wanted any."

"Thanks, I could use it, though," Ricochet said. "I've been up since six this mornin'..."

"Well, then, you go on an' eat your oatmeal. I'll fix up that cup o' coffee for ya." Jeb walked over to Ricochet with the hot pot and scooped three large spoonfuls into the bowl. "Droop-a-Long's still sleepin', isn't he?"

"He sure is. Reckon you might have ta use somethin' stronger than cinnamon to bring him down here," Ricochet replied.

"Good thing I bought that bacon last week. I was gettin' a bit of withdrawal from eatin' jus' carrots, spinach and rutabagas all day."

"You sayin' there's somethin' wrong with my diet?"

"O' course I ain't, Sheriff!" Jeb protested, his face full of bewilderment.

Ricochet smirked as he took a bite of his oatmeal. "I'm jus' joshin' with ya, Jeb," he said. "So long as ya don't shovel bacon down in front of me, I have no problem with you or Droop-a-Long eatin' meat."

Jeb sighed. "Sometimes, I have no idea when you're jokin' or bein' serious, Sheriff." He then made his way into the kitchen. "Coffee's on the stove, Sheriff."

"Thanks, I'll get it." Ricochet rose from his seat and made his way over to the small stove, pouring himself a large cup of coffee.

It felt good to have things go back to normal after closing one of the most difficult cases he'd ever had in years. Droop-a-Long's injuries had taken three weeks to completely heal, but Ricochet hadn't felt comfortable leaving his deputy in another town by himself, so he'd left all the duties of sheriff over to Jeb while he stayed in Youngsville with Droop-a-Long. After Droop-a-Long had been given a clean bill of health, the two had made their way back to Hoop 'n Holler, where the townspeople had celebrated with a large party welcoming Droop-a-Long back.

Dave, Zeb and Chuck had since been transferred to the state prison, and Jeb had taken them there personally. All three of them got hit with twenty year sentences, and the three men who'd been part of Dave's gang were hit with ten years for their trouble. Ricochet only hoped that when they got out of prison, they'd turn their lives around and atone for their mistakes.

Marcus and Newly hadn't gotten off easy, either. Youngsville's sheriff had uncovered their smuggling business and had issued a state wide alert to search for their boss, who they'd only named "Big D". Both of them got hit with ten years in prison, something that Droop-a-Long wasn't happy about, but he too hoped they'd make a turn around when they got out of jail.

A week after the case was officially closed, Ricochet had hired Jeb to be his second deputy. The farmer had been ready to leave after the case was wrapped up, believing that he didn't need him around since Droop-a-Long was back, but Ricochet had decided to keep him around. Aside from holding things together when he'd been at his lowest and when he'd been out of town, he'd decided that he'd need some extra help from now on and that he'd look into hiring some more deputies. Needless to say, Jeb had been very happy to hear this news.

As for Ricochet himself, he was in much better spirits. Things were finally settled down. A major attempt on both his and Droop-a-Long's lives had been averted, the people responsible had been caught and brought to justice, and no more attempts would be made to take over the town and overrun it with crime. He took another sip of coffee, a small smile on his face.

Yes, it felt good to be back indeed.

Ricochet finished his breakfast and then looked at the clock. It was already going on eleven, and the coyote still hadn't woken up yet,even though the smell of bacon was starting to fill the whole office. Sighing, he prepared to make his way to the stairs when someone knocked on the wall. His left ear twitched, and he looked to see who had come in. His eyes widened when he saw the person standing there.

"Well, I'll be! Denise, what're you doin' here?" he asked.

Denise Falconeri stood there in the door way, her eyes red and leaking tears. "H-Hi, Ricochet. Sorry I-I didn't call you or anything, but I couldn't w-wait another day," she said. "I need to know the truth. I need to know if he's still alive."

Ricochet didn't need to ask who she meant by 'he'. Before he could give his answer, he heard the padding of feet on the stairs. HE turned around to see Droop-a-Long amble down, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and yawning.

"Mornin', Mr. Ricochet," he said. He sniffed the air. "Reckon that is bacon I was smellin' from up-"

Denise ran over to him, tackling him to the ground with her hug. Droop-a-Long hit the stairs with a loud crash. A few seconds later, Jeb came running from inside the kitchen, hand on his holster on pure reflex. "Droop! Are ya alright?" His eyes widened when he saw Denise on top of Droop-a-Long, and his face started to color in embarrassment. He turned to Ricochet. "Um...Sheriff..."

"Oh, that's Denise, his girlfriend from outta town," Ricochet said. "She jus' came in a few moments ago."

"Ah, I see." Jeb's face slowly went back to its normal color. "For a second I thought somethin' weird was goin' on..."

"You really think I'd sit back an' let stuff like that happen in my office?" Ricochet replied, turning to Jeb with an unamused look.

"Naw..."

"Ugh..." Droop-a-Long muttered, shaking his head. He looked at Denise,who was shuddering in his arms. "Wait a moment..."

Denise looked up at him. "S-So it's true...y-you're really alive..." She wiped her eyes and then glared at him. "W-We got the news of what happened to you weeks ago, a-and you didn't even bother telling me that y-you were alive?!"

"Denise..." Droop-a-Long made to hug her, but she held his wrist to keep him from doing so.

"No. You need to explain right now, Droop-a-Long," she said, frowning at him. "I'm serious."

"Denise, trust me, the last thing I wanted ta do was to worry you," Droop-a-Long started. "But a lot of things happened, namely that a bunch o' criminals were chasin' me an' wanted me dead."

"A-And even after they were jailed, you didn't find it fit to tell me you were alright?"

Droop-a-Long scratched his head in confusion. "Uh...reckon I forgot?"

"Droop-a-Long!" Denise groaned, pouting. "How could you forget something like that?! I was scared out of my mind for weeks! I-I thought I'd lost you!"

Droop-a-Long pushed himself into a sitting position and then put his hands her shoulders. "Trust me when I say that you was one of the first people I thought of, Denise," he said. "I thought 'bout how worried you must've been to hear somethin' like this. But I was stuck. An' if I tried to call you or Mr. Ricochet, I reckon I would've been dead for real. They could've traced my call or somethin'."

Denise sniffled and she turned to Ricochet. "I-Is that true, Ricochet?"

Ricochet nodded. "That is, Denise," he said. "Droop-a-Long's friend Marcus told me all 'bout it. I would've known sooner as well, but Dave's gang was closin' in on 'im."

Denise looked at Droop-a-Long, her expression fierce. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, Droop-a-Long." She buried herself in his fur. "F-For goodness' sakes, please don't..."

Droop-a-Long hugged her tight. "I won't. I promise," he replied. "The last thing I'd ever wanna do is scare you like that. If anythin' happens to me, I'll try to get in contact with you as soon as possible."

She sniffled. "You promise?"

"I swear on my badge, Denise," he said, placing his hand on the gold star on his chest. "I'll never worry ya like that again."

Denise smiled up at him. "You know I'm going to hold you to that, right?"

"Of course," Droop-a-Long replied. He got up from the floor and pulled her to her feet. "I woulda been surprised if you didn't." He turned to Ricochet. "Hey, Mr. Ricochet, you don't mind if I take Denise out for breakfast, right?"

"Of course I don't mind, Droop-a-Long," Ricochet said. "You go on an' have your fun. I reckon that you two have a lot to talk about."

"But what about breakfast?" Jeb groaned.

The smell of burning bacon answered that question. Jeb ran back into the kitchen, Ricochet hot on his heels.

"Ya can't get careless when you're cookin', Jeb! You'll set the whole office ablaze!" Ricochet shouted.

"I wasn't tryin' to, Sheriff!" Jeb shouted back.

Droop-a-Long turned towards Denise, who looked utterly bewildered. "That's the new normal 'round here nowadays," he said, hearing the chaos that was going on in the kitchen.

"I notice." Denise got off of him and stood to her feet. "I didn't know Ricochet had hired a new deputy."

Droop-a-Long extended his arm to her. "Well then, how's about I tell ya about while we head on over to the diner, Denise?"

Denise chuckled as they exited the office. "Very well, Droop-a-Long."


Finally, it's done! The "Protector" arc is finally done! *brings out noisemakers and throws a party*

As much fun as it was to temporarily go serious Western for 4 chapters, I'm glad that I finally finished this arc. I have so many thoughts on this thing that trying to explain it all in the author's note would take WAY too long. But I'll try to anyway.

This story arc really got me into Ricochet's character as a whole; at the beginning, when I wrote the first chapter, I figured that it'd start off with Ricochet, and then eventually Droop-a-Long would take over the arc. While Droop-a-Long did have his moments to shine, Ricochet was the real star of this thing from start to finish, and it was fun to explore his character during this. Plus, I had fun sneaking in his trick bullets and his skill of outrunning bullets during the chase scene with Dave and Chuck. The scene where he almost strangles Dave was also pretty interesting to write, and shows that you do NOT push someone to this point, ever. And the scene where he reunites with Droop-a-Long was also pretty bittersweet. Given what Ricochet went through at the end of Part 2 and the rest of the arc, it was a breakdown waiting to happen. Ricochet's not this emotional normally, as I don't see him being the empathetic one like Droop-a-Long is, but seeing Droop-a-Long in his wounded state is what did it for him. I'm glad that I extended this into four chapters, as trying to finish it all in one go would've felt too rushed.

Jeb was also a blast to write. I originally had an additional scene with him and Ricochet, but that got deleted by accident, so I decided to work with what I had already and edit that. He's going to get a few shorts as well since he's now one of Ricochet's deputies, ones that expand more on his character. And speaking of original characters, I'm going to also include Marcus and Newly later on, possibly in a future short that takes place a few years or so after the Protector arc.

And regarding Denise, she sort of came in when I thought I was done with the chapter. I figured that after mentioning her a bit in Part 3, she should make an appearance in this chapter. And I couldn't resist a little humor at the end to lighten things up.

I know I said that I was taking a break from this story so I can update my other stuff, but you know how I am :D Even so, I'll try to get back to my other stories that need updating.

The next short will be the first step back to lighter far, with maybe a few adventures in between. The next few shorts will probably focus more on Ricochet this time around, with Droop-a-Long playing as a secondary role.

Constructive criticism is most appreciated!

God bless, iheartgod175