DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

However many restaurants the town of Kirk may have once had, there was only one now, a little mom-and-pop affair where the husband ran the kitchen and the wife dealt with guests and worked the register. The suns having been up several hours by now, Vash and the girls were the only business. A little bell on the door signaled their entrance.

"Come on in," the wife/hostess greeted them with a smile, gathering some menus and coming out from behind the register. "Make yourselves comfortable."

Vash shrugged and took the lead, picking a corner table and sitting with his back to the wall.

The wife/hostess was older, body hardened by time but still with a youthful gleam in her eyes. Her name tag read NANCY. "That's a good vantage point you have there," she observed as she handed out menus.

"Is it? Vash asked with a smile. "I hadn't noticed." This elicited a small roll of the eyes from Meryl, which in turn only broadened his smile.

"Wow, look at these prices!" Milly exclaimed as she looked over the menu. "The food must be really good!"

"'Fraid not," Nancy said, apology in her voice. "It's very good for what it is, but cuisine it's not. It's just that to make food, you need water; our water budget's a little tight these days, and that shows up in the prices."

"Has it always been this tough in this town?" Meryl wanted to know.

"You might think so, but no. We found water and built the town on top of it; for the first generation, things went well. I'm sure you've seen the restrictions, and some of those have been in place from day one, but by far not all. It's only in the past decade we've had to keep tightening the belt to get by. Those O'Brien people aren't helping things." Nancy gave a loose shrug. "Everything ends; some of us just intend to end with our town, is all. Now, what I can I get for y'all?"

"I guess that depends on what we can afford." Meryl and Milly started to huddle together, but Vash pre-empted them by laying a bill on the table.

"I think this should be just enough to cover a good meal," he said.

Meryl eyed Vash, but opted to go ahead and place her order instead. Milly and Vash did the same.

Nancy had an interesting way of delivering orders. "Hey, Joe," she hollered to her cook husband as she left the table. "Wreck a pair and flip two stacks!"

"All right, mister," Meryl said once she was gone, finger pointed at Vash. "Just what's your angle?"

"Angle?"

"You paid for our water last night and now the meal. What do you expect from us in return?"

Vash shook his head. For all the good things he saw in her, sometimes Meryl was just a product of Gunsmoke.

"I paid because money is just a means to get what you need. We needed something to drink and we needed food, and I had the money, so there's no harm in letting it go."

"That's a good way to have no money at all," she observed.

"If you're foolish with money, sure. But it's just as foolish to hoard it when there's something you need. Money's just a resource; it's good for so much, then it's just a way of keeping score."

Lips pursed in thought, Meryl gazed away as she added another piece to the puzzle that was Vash the Stampede. Her attention returned as Milly asked her something about whether one could have dessert with breakfast, clearly angling back to her goal of pudding.

Vash was losing his own attention as he thought about money and water.

If a single glass of water cost the menu price…the nearest town should be this many days away, but call it a few extra to be safe…so it would take this much water to get them through the desert…times the cost of a glass…carry the two…all right, that gave him a rough estimate of the cost of what they needed, to be added on top of extra supplies. Now, how much money did he have again?

Added figures in his head, balanced what he came up with against the estimated cost of water and supplies. Hmm…he might have to trim some off, and even then it was likely he would have to find a way to make some money in the next town…but yeah, he should have just enough to get the three of them out of here. It would be tight, but worth it. The sooner they got out of this town, the better.

Now it only remained for him to figure out how to leave before his hand was forced. The longer he stayed, the more likely he was to find himself wielding a gun again. Only God knew what would happen then, where his bullets would be aimed.

Took a deep breath to calm himself, trying to think of anything else as Nancy brought their food and water.

"Is there a barber in town?" he asked suddenly.

"Right across the street, in fact," Nancy confirmed. "Thinking about a haircut?"

Rubbed his jaw. "Straight shave, actually. Disposable blades just don't do the job a real razor can."

"Oh, oh!" Milly burst in. "Do they wash hair, too? I'd love to have a professional treatment for once!"

"That does sound good," chimed in Meryl.

Nancy cocked her head. "They do, but keep in mind it's going to cost more than you'd normally expect."

"I don't think we have to worry too much about that. After all, we need a little luxury, and didn't someone say something about money being for getting what you need?"

Vash groaned as she and Milly snickered.

Nancy smiled indulgently. "Can I get y'all anything else?"

Before Milly could say anything about pudding, Meryl beat her to the punch. "Actually, I was wondering – are you one of the original settlers?"

"I am. Joe and I are some of the handful of originals left. Well, actually, most everyone in town could be considered original – that barber you were asking about, for example, his family came with the rest of us when he was knee-high to a thomas flea – but most of us old-timers are a dying breed. What's on your mind?"

"I was just curious – how does a town of people who don't like rules abide by rules about who can use how much water, for example?"

"Mind if I pull up a seat?"

Meryl pulled one out for her, and Nancy sat down.

"Where y'all from?"

"Well, Milly and I are from December."

The hardened old woman nodded in understanding. "That explains a lot. People in December are used to rules. Oh, don't bother getting defensive about it, I'm sure it's all you know. Thing is, December's a big place, and the bigger a place gets, the more regulation it needs to function. Let's take an example from long ago – how did Moses do things with the Israelites?"

Milly's hand shot up like she was in school. "I know! I know! He tried to handle things himself at first, but his father-in-law Jethro convinced him to appoint some people to handle things for him because there were too many people for one man to deal with."

"That's right." Nancy leaned over and patted her hand, and Milly beamed like a prize pupil. "The more people you have in one place, the more friction between people you get. The more friction you get, the more you get people whose job it is to say what you can and can't do. Let that kind of system build up enough, and pretty soon you've got a rule for everything, whether it makes sense or not. Let it go on like that long enough, and the system becomes more important than the people it's supposed to be for.

"We didn't want that for our families; we didn't want to be treated like sheep. The only available alternative was to live in a town where the law of the gun is the only law, and we didn't want that, either. So we decided to make a place for ourselves, where we could live how we saw best. No banker knows better than us what our home is worth, and no suit knows better than us what we can and can't do.

"We're not against rules in and of themselves. If a rule makes sense, then we'll follow it, which is why we follow the rules on water. Which, by the way, we all laid out ourselves. But we are against being told what to do with no say in the matter. We think our own thoughts and take our own actions and sort out our differences with each other, not with some stranger in a robe with a fancy hammer and a bunch of law books. And when something needs doing or someone needs helping – we don't wait for a piece of paper from some mucky-muck with a stamp, we up and get it done.

"We people of Kirk aren't interested in lawlessness or anarchy, young miss, nor do we just say if it feels good, do it; our interest is in making our own existence on our own terms, not the existence some yahoo in a fancy suit says we can have based on how many pieces of paper we have on the wall or how many numbers we have in a bank account. We believe in a person's right to self-determination, the right to regulate ourselves without people who don't even know us deciding what's best for us. We set this town up to boldly go where no one has gone before, and we're damn well doing it!"

Smiled sheepishly. "Reckon I'd better get off my soapbox there. But does that answer your question?"

Meryl nodded mutely, awed by how much attitude an old woman could pack into her voice. For a moment, she had felt like she was listening to an old-time sermon – Repent, ye fancy suits and slick yahoos, for the road to Hell is paved with bank ledgers and city ordinances!

Nancy got up to go back to the kitchen. "Hadn't you better eat your food?"

Meryl looked down at her plate, as yet untouched. Gasped as she realized Milly and Vash were already halfway through theirs and dug in, saving Nancy's words for processing later.

A little while later, they all were sated. Vash patted his belly. "Still think the money should have been hoarded?"

"I never said that," Meryl corrected. "I merely questioned your motives in being so free with your money. But since you're being so free with it, weren't you going to treat us to some fresh hair washes?"

"Actually, I was going to treat myself to a straight shave. According to you, I shouldn't spend money on other people without wanting something first. Should we agree to this as a loan? Say, a thousand percent interest?"

"We should not! What we should do is –"

"What we should do is go ahead and go to the barber," Milly interjected, rising and heading for the door. "I can already smell how fresh my hair will be, and Mr. Vash is paying. Come on!"

Vash looked at Meryl. "Did she hear a word of what we just said?"

Meryl grinned and shook her head. "She never does. Let's get moving before she remembers we never got pudding."

The barber shop, just as Nancy had said, was right across the street. It didn't have the striped pole Vash was expecting, but a large window did have the word BARBER painted on it in bold lettering. He let the girls enter first, bell jangling as the door opened, then followed suit and looked around. Hmm. Two rows of a few barber chairs each out here. A partition with a door leading to the rear of the shop; that would be where the hair-washing sinks were, he guessed.

Thinking of how much water went into a professional wash, he was glad he had packed a second large bill in his pocket. For all his teasing of Meryl, there was no question that he would go ahead and cover their hair washes; it was the least he could do, seeing as she was bringing him some measure of peace. And what went for Meryl went for Milly, too. That was the nature of partners and friends.

A man almost as tall as Vash and half again as wide came out of the back. As one would expect of a barber, he was clean-shaven, dark brown hair just beginning to sprinkle with gray neatly trimmed. Built with the beefy stature and thick neck of a wrestler, arms that looked more like they belonged to a butcher than a barber. An apron was around him; he was tying it as he approached his customers.

"Howdy, boss, ma'ams." Voice was deep without being rough. "What can I do y'all for?"

Vash jerked his head at his companions. "They'd like hair washes, if possible; straight shave for me."

"Can do. I'm Heckle Hyde, by the way, folks call me Heck." Grabbed Vash's hand and shook it heartily. It wasn't one of those handshakes of domination, but the guy was just naturally strong and his grip had a lot of power to it. Vash was glad he was no stranger to grip work, as he was able to return the shake without his hand being reduced to a throbbing mess.

"Excuse me, sir –" Milly started.

"No sir about it, missy, just stick to Heck."

She smiled. "Ok, Heck. Mrs. Nancy across the street told us that everything costs more, and I was wondering how everyone here afforded all the higher prices?"

"Met Aunt Nancy, have you?"

Milly blinked. "You're related?"

The barber laughed, a booming, happy sound. "You could argue everyone who lives here is related by choice. Life here has a way of bonding people that blood doesn't. She's right – as the water level's dropped, prices have gone up. But those largely apply to passers-through such as yourselves. Most of us trade in services – say Barkeep over in the saloon goes to Nancy and Joe for a meal. He doesn't pay money, he pays goods; in other words, when they go in for a drink, they get it without money. I get something to eat without money, they come in and get a haircut without money."

"That seems unfair to people like us," Meryl observed mildly.

Heck Hyde shrugged. "It might not if you lived here. Wherever you go from here, it's a good bet you'll be able to get more money. Our town isn't growing so we don't have a lot of money coming in. Frankly, we're happy without a lot of outside money, but it does limit what we're able to spend. We can either take money where we can get it and use it on the things we absolutely need most and have a local economy of trade, or we can decide our economy will be money-based and watch it go down in flames. I don't like doing what in a plant town would count as gouging you people, but you don't look like traders. And even if this isn't fair – sorry, missy, no system's perfect. We can sit down and compare our ways of life sometime, if you like.

"Now, on the other hand, if you do have goods to trade, we can negotiate. Or you can decide you don't need a barber bad enough. Those are the only other choices I can give you. If you decide the last one, I'll understand."

Vash chucked him on the shoulder, which felt something like hitting a thick side of meat. "Milly and Meryl here seem to think I'm paying for this. I'll go ahead and do that, help boost the coffers a bit."

"Roger that, boss." The barber chucked him back, and even that light shot made Vash grin to cover a wince. "Have a seat. Sure you just want the shave? I could fix your hair for you, make you look a little less like a broom."

A sudden burst of snickering from the direction of the insurance girls caused Vash to roll his eyes. "I'm good. Just the shave."

"No worry. Jeckle!"

Vash, taking a seat in a barber chair, watched out of the corner of his eye as a young man emerged from the back. He concealed his surprise at seeing the teenager from the near-disaster in the saloon last night.

Meryl's own sharp intake of air might have gone unnoticed if Milly hadn't been more obvious about recognizing him. "Well, hello there!"

"You know m'boy?" Heck Hyde asked.

"Yes, we –"

"Met him last night. He was kind enough to direct us to the saloon," Meryl cut in. A kid trying too hard to be a man deserved the chance to make his own confession. It wasn't their place to accidentally blow the whistle.

"Ah. You ladies were at the saloon last night. Word travels fast here," the barber explained at Meryl's inquiring look. "Reckon that must make your friend the one who stepped in. Thanks, stranger. And Jeck thanks you, too, even if he doesn't realize it yet. Boy's got a boy's mind and his blessed mama's temper, makes for some bad choices."

The teen's cheeks burned under his father's stern gaze as Vash nodded.

The barber decided his son had had enough punishment by embarrassment. "Jeck, take these ladies in back and get them ready for some washes. You wait here," he directed at Vash, "and I'll go mix up some soap for your shave." Disappeared into the back with his son and the insurance girls.

Things were going ok for Vash this morning. A good meal, a good shave coming his way, and he still had enough money to buy what was needed to head out. If he closed his eyes, he could just about picture things working out.

Until the bell on the door jingled.

"Barber's in back –" Vash started, stopping as he opened his eyes and saw the visitor.

"I was here for him," Kurtz rasped with an ugly grin, "but I figure I'll be taking you instead."

Vash's own expression morphed into a scowl, mind racing. Meryl and Milly were in the back. Milly had enough sense not to butt in, but he knew Meryl better than to think that of her. She'd go off half-cocked and put herself in danger.

The kid was back there, too, and there was no telling if he'd learned his lesson. He might be smart enough not to try anything, or he might be as half-cocked as Meryl. If Vash defied Kurtz here, there was one, possibly two, unstable ingredients added to an already dangerous situation. The last thing this town needed was an eruption of gunfire to give O'Brien's people an excuse for open warfare.

On the other hand…

"What for?" Vash asked.

"My boss Ms. O'Brien would like a word with you. And be careful how you answer – if you say no, she'll ask again, and she'll use…let's call it leverage."

He couldn't stay here with Kurtz. And maybe if he went ahead and heard O'Brien out, he could find a way out of this situation that didn't involve shooting.

"Ok."

Kurtz shook his head in mock sadness. "You give so easily. I thought maybe you might like to find out which one of us dies."

It was all Vash could do to keep from leaping up and dragging him away from here, away from the people he needed to protect. "Sorry. No gun."

"But there will be. When the time is right, there will be." Kurtz's laughter reminded Vash of a wind blowing through a graveyard.

He could feel his heartbeat pick up, trigger finger twitching as he thought of all the ways this could go sideways if he stayed any longer. Said the only thing he could say at this moment that would keep Meryl safe.

"Let's go."