A/N: This chapter's inspired by a scene in an RP between me and Vulaan Kulaas. All I can say is poor Droop-a-Long. :(

Disclaimer: I think it goes without saying that I don't own Ricochet and Droop-a-Long!


Story 27: I've Got Your Back

"Halt, in the name of the law!" Ricochet yelled, drawing his gun on the outlaw.

The outlaw in question, who had two sacks of gold under his arm, turned and fired with his other hand. Ricochet dove for the ground, and prepared to return fire as the man took off.

A howl of agony stopped him short. Eyes widening, he whirled around to see his deputy topple over like a tree. He clutched his upper left leg, hissing in pain.

"Droop-a-Long!"

"Well, that's one of ya down for the count!" the outlaw laughed, and dust flew in Ricochet's face as he made his getaway on horseback, not even looking back to see the sheriff's look of utter rage.

Ricochet was half tempted to run after him, to rope him in with one of his Lariet bullets, and for a split second he also thought of knocking that guy's teeth out. But seeing Droop-a-Long on the ground overrode his anger…for now at least. "Hang on, Droop-a-Long!" Snarling back a curse, he ran over to his deputy, inspecting him to see how bad he was shot. The bullet was in deep, and if not handled quickly, Droop-a-Long would lose his leg for his trouble. Ricochet quickly pulled off Droop-a-Long's neckerchief and tied it around his leg to stop the bleeding.

"R-Ricochet," Droop-a-Long gasped, grunting as Ricochet tied the bandage tight around his leg.

"Don't worry, Droop. Let me handle this," Ricochet answered softly. His voice is calm, but one could easily pick up the strain in his voice, the anger that's threatening and struggling to explode to the surface.

"T-The outlaw's gettin' away," Droop-a-Long said. "He's got three thousand dollars in gold, Mr.-aah!" Pain raced up his injured leg, for he'd made the mistake of trying to stretch it.

"Sit still" Ricochet admonished. "Don't worry about that outlaw, I'll handle 'im later. Can ya stand, Droop?"

"N-Not without help, I'm afraid."

"Here, I'll help ya."

It took a little bit of effort, but Ricochet got Droop-a-Long to his feet. He helped him walk inside the office and directed him to a chair. "Sit here, Droop, and whatever you do, don't move yer leg."

Droop-a-Long nodded, gnawing at his lip. Ricochet walked over to his desk, rummaging through his drawer for a needle and thread, and then in the kitchen area for a knife. "Good thing I heated the stove earlier for coffee," he murmured, opening the door to the stove and sticking the knife in. When he heard Droop-a-Long groan in pain, he added, "Hang on, Droop. This'll be done in a few."

A few moments later, Ricochet carefully removed the hot knife, and walked back into the office where Droop-a-Long was waiting. Droop-a-Long looked over at Ricochet, and he swore he saw sweat break out on the coyote's face. "M-Mr. Ricochet, can't ya let Doc Johnson take care of that?"

"I'm afraid not. He's not in town this week. Luckily I know my way around cleanin' bullet wounds." Ricochet pulled out a small stool and sat next to Droop-a-Long's leg. Setting the knife down on the makeshift table, he undid Droop's necktie and tossed it to the floor. He sighed. "I'm not gonna sugarcoat it for ya, Droop...this is gonna hurt. I want to get this outta your leg as quickly as possible, but if you move, you'll get burned. So I want ya to stay absolutely still. Can ya do that for me?"

Droop-a-Long swallowed nervously, but he nodded. "Y-Yessir, Mr. Ricochet."

"Alright, I'm gonna get the bullet out, and then I'll have to stitch you up, okay?"

"O-Okay..."

"Alright," Ricochet breathed. "I'm gonna start now."

Holding Droop-a-Long's thigh, he pressed the hot knife into the bullet wound, carefully moving around until he reached the bone. Droop-a-Long let out a long groan of pain, squeezing the arm rest of the chair to keep himself from jerking away, and then screamed as Ricochet edged the tip of the knife into the bone to get to to the bullet, sending hot pain into his bones.

"Just a little bit longer, Droop..." Ricochet replied, sweat beading his brow. The sight of the wound and the smell of burning flesh made him feel ill, but he couldn't falter, not now. Any wrong move and he'd cause his deputy more pain than necessary. He tightened his grip on Droop-a-Long's leg when the coyote let out a longer, agonizing shriek, squeezing the armrest so hard it cracked. "Just a little longer..."

A few seconds later, he brought out the blood-covered bullet-a lead one, by the looks of it, he mused-and placed it and the knife in a white cloth. Droop-a-Long relaxed, but just slightly.

"Easy, Droop," Ricochet said, taking another cloth, dabbing it in some water and padding the blood around the wound. "Now, I want ya to stay still while I stitch you up."

Droop-a-Long sniffled, but he nodded, his trembling lip showing how hard he was fighting back. That desire for revenge came back, but he held it back for Droop's sake. "It's gonna be okay. It'll be over before ya know it," he said, taking the needle and inserting the thread through its eye. "Just hold still..."

With that, Ricochet began stitching Droop-a-Long up, doing each stitch individually. Thankfully, Droop-a-Long didn't scream as loudly as he had before, but when Ricochet glanced up briefly at him, he saw his trembling arm. He returned to his work, noting that the wound was almost closed. "Two more, Droop. You'll be okay after this."

"M-Mm-hmm..."

Since he was doing the stitches individually, it took a little longer, but it was the simplest form he knew. When he was done, he let out a low breath, and Droop-a-Long shuddered some more, pausing in random jerks due to the pain in his leg. Ricochet looked down at his hands and shirt, noting that they were bloodstained.

"Good thing that's over with," he said. "I'm gonna clean up, an' then I'll get you somethin to help you relax. You want anythin'?"

There was a long pause, and then Droop-a-Long asked softly, "Y-Ya got that peanut brittle, Mr. Ricochet?"

"Yeah. I'm surprised ya still eat that stuff. Hoop 'n Holler's shatters yer teeth," he replied. "I'll get the container." Removing the bloody bowl and the rags, he went for the kitchen area and poured out the water followed by cleaning off the knife and then tossed the bloody rags in the metal basin they used for washing clothes. The bullet, however, was kept in a small bag. He'd keep this as evidence for when he caught that crook.

With that in mind, he washed his hands, walked into his room, took off his shirt and put on one of his favorite vests-a green one with red stars decorating it. He slid it on and then walked into the kitchen to get the container of peanut brittle for Droop-a-Long. He didn't open it, for the smell of peanut butter alone made his head hurt.

"Alright, Droop, here's-" He stopped when he saw tears running down Droop-a-Long's neck. His mind flashed to Droop-a-Long's reaction from earlier, and he set the peanut brittle down.

Droop-a-Long looked at him quizzically. "What is it, Mr. Ricochet?" he asked. He paused, and then felt the wetness on his neck, as if he'd just now realized he was crying. He chuckled. "Heh, t-that's weird. I wasn't cryin' a minute ago-"

His sentence was cut off when Ricochet jumped up on the chair and tackled him into a hug, so suddenly they almost fell out of the chair together. After readjusting the chair so they didn't fall backwards, Droop-a-Long looked at him like was out of his mind. "Mr. Ric-"

"For the love of everythin', if somethin's botherin' ya, tell me about it," Ricochet replied. The last four words were said in a ragged tone, a tone that Droop-a-Long recognized as a plea. "You don't have to be strong for my sake, Droopy."

Whatever Droop-a-Long had been about to say died on his lips. He slouched in the chair and sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ricochet..."

"I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?"

"It's kinda dullin' a bit. B-But that's only part of the reason," Droop-a-Long said. "I-I got ta thinkin' that iffin' I'd been more careful, we would've gotten that feller. You lost the case an' it's all my fault."

"It wasn't your fault, Droop," Ricochet replied. "An' I don't want ya thinkin' it is, either."

"But ya have to track 'im down now, since I got hurt," Droop-a-Long answered. "You could've left me behind, that way you-"

"No," Ricochet interrupted. "I'd never do that. Even if that guy was one of the worst criminals to run into, I'd never do that."

"But-"

"Droop-a-Long, you know me," Ricochet started, looking up at him finally. His narrowed eyes carried steely resolve. "I'm not like that other sheriff who said 'I've got other deputies' when his deputy died. I didn't leave my other deputies behind, and I sure as heck wouldn't leave you." When he didn't answer, he finished with, "I've told ya again an' again-no matter what happens, no matter what you do, I've got your back. An' that also means not leavin' ya behind."

"Mr. Ricochet..."

"So don't get to thinkin' that everythin' would've been fine if I left you behind," Ricochet said. "And don't get to thinkin' that it's your fault he got away. He'll get his due, but in time." He hugged him tighter. "Ya don't have to feel guilty for somethin' ya didn't do."

Droop-a-Long hugged him at last. "T-Thanks, Mr. Ricochet...ya don't know how happy that makes me feel..."

"I can kinda tell," Ricochet replied.

"...that reminds me, are you okay, Ricochet?" Droop-a-Long asked, pulling away from him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why're ya askin'?" Ricochet asked, getting down from the chair.

"Ya looked shook up when you were workin' on me..."

Ricochet stopped in his tracks, and although he had his back to Droop-a-Long, his ears were lowering. "Well, I've seen worse things, but..." He sighed as he turned around to face him. "If there's anythin' I hate, it's seein' the people I love in pain. It riles me up, an' it breaks me at the same time. I know it's not my fault that you're hurt, but...even when I was treatin' your wound, I felt like I was hurtin' you even more."

"Ricochet..."

"I'm glad that I got the bullet outta ya, but I'm not lyin' when I say I hope I never have to do that again," Ricochet answered. "It's tough doin' it on yer own self, but..."

"Well...I'm glad that I have a friend who knows a lot 'bout guns an' how to treat wounds," Droop-a-Long said. He didn't want Ricochet to dwell on it for long; goodness knows he'd only spiral into a deep, dark depression over this. "Iffin' ya hadn't, things would've been a lot worse. So thank ya, Mr. Ricochet."

Ricochet looked up at him and a small smile came across his face. "I appreciate that, Droopy," he said, and then handed him the container of peanut brittle. "So, how about we treat ourselves to some sweet snacks, huh?"

"...But ain't you-"

"An' if you even think of mentionin' my diet, I'll clock ya in the head."

"...Never even crossed my mind."

The End


This little short should get me back into the mood for RPing stuff again ^^

I did read that most of the time, the whole "we have to get the bullet out" that's so common in Westerns can sometimes have fatal consequences in real life. Well...in the case of Droop-a-Long, he probably would've had long-lasting leg pain if he left it there, making his movements even slower and more painful, hence why Ricochet had to get it out. I also did a little research to see what kind of stitches there were, and went with the simple interrupted stitch because it's the easiest one (and because I didn't want to see anymore open wound pictures). Poor Droop-a-Long, though; he's very sensitive to pain, but he tried to be strong for Ricochet's sake so he wouldn't worry about him.

I do have a couple of other stories I want to try to update before the year's over, but I can't guarantee which one it'll be. I do know that one of the first updates for the new year will be Fiery Heart, Broken Soul. And since I'm gonna be starting my winter term next week, I'll try to get get cracking on some stories (including a short one or two) that I want to publish before the year is over.

Anyway, I hope you liked this story, and consider it a (semi-late) Christmas present!

God bless, iheartgod175