"Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee

And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me."

- Robert Frost

We rode in silence for some solid minutes, waiting for the other to speak first. Alfred Mullins, the bounty, was hiding over at Painted Sky ranch. Not a long ride, I thought we would probably be able to make it there in uncomfortable silence. It's a one-day job, thankfully. Aine trots below, nipping at the tail of the stranger's horse. I smile; the horse was too small for him. He knew, I could tell that he knew.

"You need a new horse." I say, offering the conversation opener, deciding it's better to have him on my side before the gunfight.

"Hmm." he grunted. Not a big talker.

"They have Hungarians in the stables at Strawberry, might be worth looking after we get back. If you make it back, of course." I say, not taking the hint. Perhaps it's been too long since I rode with anyone other than Cripps.

"I'll just tame a wild one when I got time."

"You can do that?"

"You can't?"

"Never tried." I admit. I'd lived all my life in a saddle, I'd grown my own veg and hunted my own meat even as a child. My parents had always valued the importance of self-sufficiency and taught both my brother and I everything they knew. My father had taught me how to ride, and I was good enough to get by. Not good enough to jump on a wild one, mind.

"Hmm."

He clearly didn't want to talk, usually that suits me just fine. But I didn't know what awaited us at Painted Sky, how many men or how many bullets. I didn't know anything about this stranger and yet here I was about to run headfirst into the unknown with him.

"I'm Nora." I say, leaving it open for him to offer his name in return. He didn't even nod in acknowledgement. "Look, I figure we might have a better shot at this if we communicate. I'm not asking for your life's story, I just wanna know who's back I'm watchin'."

He laughed at that, a dry laugh. A laugh void of all humour.

"I ain't gon be watchin' your back, and you certainly ain't gotta watch mine."

Fine, I wanted to say, I hope you get shot. I hope they shoot you right in the back that I ain't watchin'. But I don't say that, I know myself better than that, I say nothing at all.

The rest of the ride is quiet, quieter than it was before I'd started speaking. There was something ominous about him knowing my name and I not knowing his, there was something ominous about the way he calmly dismounted his horse close by the destination. There was something ominous about how he yawned and rubbed his eyes before he checked his revolver, as though it were a chore. As though this was routine, as though he was bored.

The thought hadn't occurred to me before, perhaps I had been too naïve, too caught up in the pissing contest to see things clearly. This was a dangerous man, what was stopping him from shooting me and taking the bounty for himself? It wasn't his back that needed watching, it was his hands.

As if he could sense my sudden tension, he turned to face me. He rested his hands on his gun belt and spat at the ground, before looking me square in the eye.

"Arthur. My name is Arthur." he said. I blinked in return. "Ok. You ready?"

I grab hold of my repeater and nod. Ready as I'll ever be.

We approached the ranch quietly, crouched as low as we can get. I couldn't help but notice how impressively he managed to shrink himself, for someone as broad as he was. He pointed at cluster of trees beside the main house, I followed him as we slowly made our way undetected. I could see two men standing at the back door of the house, talking. As we approached the trees, I held my hand out for the poster, he passed it over without question. Neither of these men were Alfred Mullins, I shook my head at Arthur and he pursed his lips together in thought. We could go in hot, shooting our way to Mullins. But there is the risk that he isn't here and we gain unnecessary attention. Or there was the option to take it slow...at least until we know he is here.

Arthur peers around from the tree at the two men and then opens his satchel. He pulls out two throwing knives and looks at me questionably. I scoff silently and take one. We both crawl out from behind the trees slowly and move into a crouch, I look at him, waiting for his mark. He nods in appreciation and holds up his hand, counting down with his fingers.

Three

Breathe in

Two

Breathe out

One

Steady

We throw a knife each, both landing directly in the back of the men's heads. I can sense Arthur eyeing me and I can't help but feel a little smug. I move forward again, having earned his trust enough for him to follow me this time, and get close to the wall of the house. There are more voices close by, more than two this time. I grimace, knowing what comes next. Arthur holds up a finger and glances around the corner of the house, his face falls. He pauses for a moment, before sighing and pulling his revolver from his holster. I ready my repeater. He looks me up and down for a moment, eyes narrowing as he reaches my face. I try to keep my expression calm and collected; not wanting him to know that I'm nervous.

"Alright." he grunts, before whipping around the corner of the house and firing off a bullet. I hear a body hit the ground and start running to defend the other side. Guess we are going in hot.

"Alfred Mullins!" I hear him shout "Where is he?"

I lean around the house and fire my repeater, managing to shoot the closet guy in the jaw. I only had a second to register that it was not actually the target before I pulled the trigger. I aimed precisely, taking down men with every bullet I had. I couldn't tell how many were out there, or if they were Mullins. I lifted my gun and peered around again, only to be hit with the splintering of the wooden panel just above my head as a bullet ripped through it. I yelped and retreated back behind the house, panting and furiously wiping the chippings from my face.

"You still with me?" I heard Arthur call, still unable to open my eyes fully I lifted my hand in a thumbs up, hoping he could see. Not a moment later a hand gripped my shoulder, I reached for my knife in a panic. "Woah! It's me! You good?"

I lower my knife and blink up at Arthur, still squinting through the pain.

"Shoot, sorry. I got chippings in my eyes."

"Can you see?"

"Yes, just needed a moment."

"Okay well I need you to cover me, Mullins is inside, but there's still four guards to take. You got me covered?" he asked, no hint of sarcasm, no hint of irritation. I grab my gun and hold it tightly, nodding up at him. "Good, then follow me."

We run around the corner of the house and skid to hide behind some hay stacks, I rise above the top for a moment to shoot the closest man in the head. Clean shot. Arthur points to the house and then makes a run for it, firing as he goes, I lift my gun and aim carefully, killing another two men to cover him. One more to go. I check to make sure Arthur is inside before darting out from behind the hay bale and sliding to a halt behind a wagon. I lay down on my stomach and look through the wheels, spotting a pair of feet scrambling to get to safety. I take aim there in the mud, breath out, and fire. He goes down. He's not dead, dead men don't scream like that, but he won't be going anywhere any time soon. I pick myself up from the mud and make my way over to the him, the last man, who clutching his foot and sobbing.

"Bitch!" he spits as I get closer, I aim my pistol and shut him up.

It's a funny thing, to look upon the body of someone who's life you have ended. Sometimes I think about the first man I killed. I think about his face, the way his eyes had bulged from his head. How he cried for his mother as he bled out. Sometimes I think about my family, and how dark their blood looked all pooled together. I think about how difficult it was to bury them when they were so stiff. But this time I didn't think about any of it.

"Well, shit." I hear Arthur say from the porch, Alfred Mullins is tied and slumped over his shoulder.

"Dead?"

"No, just out."

I holster my pistol and whistle for Aine, she comes trotting over, looking blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding her. I climb up into the saddle and pat her gently.

"Don't you want to search the bodies? Might be something good?" Arthur asks as he loads Alfred Mullins onto the back of his horse.

"No, all yours." I say. I already had plenty more than I needed.

This guy was good with a gun and clearly needed the money, an idea formed. I'd been doing wagon sales alone for years, and narrowly avoided being shot each time. I couldn't count the amount of goods I'd lost to gangs or bandits; it was only a matter of time before I lost my life. Perhaps I should seek a gun for hire.

Arthur made quick work of the search, he collected wedding rings and tonics. Anything they had that was worth something, he shoved into his satchel. We set off back to Strawberry, going slow as not to dislodge Mr. Mullins from his resting spot. Arthur checked on his guns as we rode.

"You are a decent shot." he said, taking me by surprise.

"Better than decent." I lied, my aim was about as reliable as the weather. But I was proud of my abilities; they had kept me alive. "So are you." I add.

"You wondering if I'm gonna kill you now and take this bastard in alone?"

I froze, I'd been so caught up in the camaraderie of our objective that I'd forgotten I was in any danger. I pulled on the reigns and brought Aine to a halt, my eyes darted to the revolver in his hand, being so carefully cleaned with a cloth. I reached down for my pistol, readying myself. He started chuckling.

"Relax, I ain't gonna shoot you. Ain't so sure I'd be quick enough on the draw anyway." he looked around at you a smiled, a genuine smile. My entire body relaxed. Why I believed him I wasn't quite sure, but I did.

"You wouldn't be." I replied in jest. I'd watched him take down a body with each bullet that left his chamber. He'd have my brains pooling into the mud before I'd even raised my gun. The rest of the ride was silent, other than the occasional cough or snore from Mullins, it was peaceful. We made it back to strawberry in no time, Arthur carried our bounty to the cell while I collected the money. $100, not shabby. I handed Arthur $50 on the way out and let him count my half to be sure.

We walked out to the hitching post in awkward silence. The adrenaline had worn off and I was exhausted, it was time to return to camp and try whatever concoction Cripps had imagined up for a stew today. Arthur tipped his hat to me and climbed wearily onto his horse, I thought about saying nothing for a moment. We could go our separate ways now and never have to cross paths again.

"Arthur?" I asked

"Hmm."

"I have some work you might be interested in, a business venture of mine. It ain't interesting and it ain't safe, but I can pay well." I said, half hoping he would refuse.

"How well?"

"Well."

He raised an eyebrow

"Fine, $100. You'd be escorting me on a delivery. Nothing illegal, just some materials." I say, hopeful. It's good money, damn good money, especially to someone who was picking coins out of the pockets of the dead.

He looked at me for a long minute, lips pursed in thought.

"Leave a message at Valentine station for Tacitus Kilgore, with a time and a date. I'll be there." he said.

And with that, he dipped his hat and rode off down the main street. Tacitus Kilgore...he was using an alias? Oh. He's a wanted man. A very wanted man. Perhaps recruiting him for his gun wasn't my best idea.