Lol it took me two days to update this time. I changed the rating to T. It's more likely to change back to M than not, but whatever. I'll change it when the time comes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters

"Fourteen Mississippi," Alfred counted.

The pleasant morning sun was slowly transitioning into the brutal afternoon one. After many failed attempts at flattery and escape, Alfred and Feliciano sat on the ground, defeated and tied to a tree. Feliciano had long stopped crying after he had run out of tears. His ramblings were reduced after the rope restricted the use of his wild hand gestures.

"Fifteen Mississippi," Feliciano continued.

"Seventeen Mississippi," Alfred said.

"Alfredo, what's the English word for diciotto?" Feliciano asked.

"I dunno, does that mean 'cactus'?"

"Ve~ cactus Mississippi."

Alfred absentmindedly watched an eagle soar through the air. "Hey Feliciano?"

"Yes?"

The cowboy looked around. Five of the seven women were scattered across the top of the canyon, keeping watch and ready to fire. The leader and the girl from last night remained at the bottom.

"Do ya think Arthur and Lovino will pull through?"

"Of course they will! Well, I know Lovino will at least try. He's kind of a crybaby and a wuss, but if he put his mind to something, he can do it. I just hope your English friend helps Lovi, because my fratello can't do much by himself."

Alfred remained silent in thought. What if Arthur did pull through? Would he be able to live with his premeditated plans knowing that Arthur had saved his life after knowing him for a day? He knew that getting attached to these sort of people would eventually leave himself hurt, but this man was different. Sure, Arthur was stubborn and slightly in love with himself, but the Briton managed to make Alfred feel guilty about what he had heartlessly done to many people before. If he felt this bad after a day, how bad would he feel about it after two days? Three? Four? He decided not to delve into it and to cross that bridge when he got there.

"So," he changed the subject, "What state is Italy in?"

"Did you see that coach gun, though?" Arthur nervously checked the stagecoach for the billionth time.

"Yeah I fucking saw him. Scary looking bastard," Lovino said.

Their plan was advancing full speed. The stage driver was beginning to panic and frantically searched about for his lost key. The boys needed another distraction, one that would even lure the indifferent coach gun away. They had hoped that the coach gun would at least shift his attention to Arthur during his performance, but they had no such luck. They were stuck, or so they thought until a young girl walked by.

"Big brother, you're back!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, hello, Lili. Are you finished tending to the goats?" Vash asked.

The two boys watched the exchange with growing hope. Though they couldn't quite hear what the two were saying, Arthur and Lovino knew for sure that the girl would serve as a good distraction.

"Yes, big brother, they have been taken care of. When you are finished working, would you like to come to the market with me?" Lili asked.

"Of course! That is in a different town! I wouldn't let you go alone," the coach gun huffed.

The girl giggled at her adoptive brother's protectiveness. Vash had immigrated to America around the same time as Lili. He arrived alone from Switzerland and Lili came with family from Liechtenstein. Her parents contracted yellow fever and died, leaving her abandoned in New Orleans, barely knowing English. Vash found her on the verge of death and took her in. They journeyed together to start a new life further north. Ever since Lili had contracted yellow fever herself, Vash became extremely protective, not wanting the only thing he had in the new country to slip away. Though she had recovered some time ago, her brother wasn't going to allow another chance for something to take her.

When a bullet grazed Lili's neck close enough to break skin, Vash instantly jumped out of his seat and cocked his shotgun. "Bleiben hier," he commanded as he shoved his sister into the bank behind them. All around were people screaming. Even the stage driver was in a panic. A few men ran to retrieve their checked-in guns from the Sheriff's Office.

On the other end of the gun, Arthur was rapidly breathing. That shot was too close. The six-shooter he held was the only one they had found in their horses' saddle bag. As of now, it only had four bullets left in the chamber. Lovino was already walking toward the stagecoach, masked by the confusion of the town. Vash had his back against the side of it, waiting for the shooter to reveal himself.

"This is a no-gun town," the sheriff shouted, "Come out with your hands up!"

Vash being the exception of the rule, the sheriff and other townsmen searched for the offender. Meanwhile, Lovino tried to think of a way to lure the coach gun away from the vehicle. He was looking around for an answer when he spotted the girl from earlier peeking out a window. Forgive me, dolcezza. Lovino picked up a stone, hid behind a water trough, and chucked it at the girl. Lili screamed and Vash shifted all of his attention to her. Everyone else had their eyes set across the street toward the origin of the gunshot, away from Lovino. The Italian didn't waste any time and dashed to the stagecoach door. He opened it, dove inside, then shut the door as quietly as possible.

From behind a building, Arthur shot again, this time aiming at a window on the general store next to the bank. He needed to cause more ruckus. Time was running out. More armed men came spilling out onto the street, searching for Arthur. People didn't forget about the stagecoach, either. Soon, bankers wielding shot guns surrounded the vehicle with an undiscovered Lovino still inside. Even the stage driver managed to recover and was standing among the bankers.

I have to get them away from the stagecoach. If Lovino exits and they see him, we're done for, Arthur thought. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of a solution. Instead, he thought of when he had shot Johnny. What was he doing wielding a gun again? He could kill someone. But yet again, he could also save someone; he could save Alfred.

The scene played over in his head. As much as he tried to push it out, his mind betrayed him and took him to the very moment that he saw Johnny's bloody face. Then it struck Arthur. There was a way out of this. Mustering up as much courage as he could, the Englishman steadied his trembling hand and took a shot at the jittery horses. It was a shot to miss, but it sure did work.

Inside the stagecoach, Lovino unlocked the strongbox. Inside were stacks and stacks of money. Fucking shinplaster, he thought as he tossed aside the bills of lesser value. C'mon, you bastard, where are you? He at last found the stack he was looking for. A smile stretched across his face as an expressionless Abraham Lincoln stared back. 'ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS', it read. Lovino was shaken from his glee when the stagecoach suddenly lurched forward. "What the fuck?" he let out before promptly covering his mouth, remembering that he wasn't supposed to be there.

Arthur's plan worked. The shot had startled the horses and sent them in a wild gallop. The bankers frantically chased after the runaway stagecoach, but couldn't catch up. Even Vash was trapped in the confusion as he tended to his bleeding little sister. Two bullets left, Arthur thought.

The formerly peaceful town was in utter panic. The townsfolk were starting to hone in on the origin of the shots, so Arthur had to move fast. He slid to the other side of the building and kept his gun ready. Jogging into the middle of the chaotic town, he casually slipped a, "back of the buildings are clear," in his best American accent. Though it came out sounding like he had recently learned how to talk, nobody noticed due to their state of dismay. That is, nobody but Vash.

Cocking his shotgun, the Swiss stormed straight toward Arthur only having one thing in mind. He had pieced everything together. Vash had never seen the Briton's face until that day. Why would he care about this small American town? All he cared about was causing a disruption in Vash's already difficult life and trying to walk out scot-free.

"Hey, English bastard," he growled, "get out of my fucking home."

"Vash!" Lili shrieked, "Vash! Look out!"

Vash turned around to face a frantic Lovino trying to drive the stagecoach out of the way. The coach gun managed to jump away, but not completely. He shouted out in pain when a horse trampled his leg. Vash was far from giving up, though.

He forgot the searing pain in his leg.

Arthur momentarily locked eyes with the person on the ground a few yards away.

The Swiss raised his gun. The clouds of dirt thickened and made it harder to see his target.

'Next time yer looking at the wrong end of a gun,'

Lili ran to Vash's side, but the young man paid no mind.

'Ya should move instead of chat.'

A bullet shot out of the barrel.

"Big brother! Oh, you are hurt! Bist du in Ordnung? Kannst du mich hören?"

Vash didn't respond. The dust settled, revealing...

... Nothing? Where did the Englishman go?

Said Englishman was sitting on the runaway stagecoach, screaming. His left bicept had a fresh four inch gash as a parting gift from the bullet that grazed him. Sharp pains in his right shoulder were a consequence from being yanked up at the last second by Lovino. If Lovino hadn't pulled Arthur up, he probably would've been shot straight in the heart. The Italian was too preoccupied to notice the severity of Arthur's wounds. He stretched and latched onto the nearest horse. Shots were being fired at them, but none of them landed.

"What are you doing?" Arthur yelled over the beating hooves.

"Trying... To get... A horse loose..." Lovino panted.

"Do you have the money?" Arthur asked.

Lovino nodded in affirmation and started to move forward. He pulled on some leather straps connecting the horses and got one free. He promptly got to work on the strap on the other side. "You'd better do the same," he suggested.

Arthur bandaged his wound with his cravat and moved so that he was behind the horse next to Lovino. He gulped and lunged forward, but slid to the side so that he was practically being dragged.

"Quit fucking around!" Lovino yelled.

Arthur tried pulling himself up, but his injuries made it difficult. His left arm was covered in blood, but he had to keep pushing.

"I didn't know the British were such fucking Marys!" Lovino managed to undo the next strap, setting his horse free. "C'mon, Cuntland!"

That's right, Arthur thought, I'm a wellborn British gentleman, and I refuse to die in such a cruel land. With one very painful pull, Arthur was on top of the horse. He undid the right strap, but couldn't manage to undo the left strap due to his injuries. With one less horse pulling, the stagecoach was now going slower and the bullets were coming closer.

"Goddammit, Cuntland! Hurry the fuck up!"

Arthur aimed his revolver at the strap. The action sent pain racing through his arm, which caused him to flinch and miss his shot. He cursed and tried again, this time expecting the searing pain. He pulled the trigger and released the bullet. It sent the leather strap flying and his horse free.

The boys weren't completely off the hook just yet. Several men mounted their horse and took off after them. "The strongbox is still in the stagecoach!" Arthur yelled at them. It seemed to work because a few of the men shifted their focus to the runaway vehicle which was now going to other way. Three men stayed to pursue Arthur and Lovino.

With every bump shooting pain through Arthur's arm, holding the reins became extremely difficult.

"Dammit, just ride using one blasted hand like everyone else does!" Lovino said after noticing Arthur's difficulties.

"I don't know how!" Arthur cried.

"Well you better figure out before you can never ride again!"

The Briton moved the reins into his right hand, leaving the one holding the gun free. The three men were a few hundred yards away, but the boys were still not at ease. They cut through a corral and galloped toward the plains. That left the cattle in disarray, which would serve as a good obstacle for their pursuers.

Vash and Lili watched the pair escape. He grit his teeth, but relaxed them when Lili put a firm hand on his shoulder. The young man looked at his sister, surprised by the sudden gesture. Her face was a mess of blood and tears. "Don't worry, big brother," she spoke with an unusually dark tone, "I will make them pay."

The boys didn't have any chance to relax. The cattle caused two of the men to get stuck, but one remained hot on their trail. He was slowly gaining ground and continued to fire shots. "Can't these tarnal horses go any faster?" Lovino complained. "Hey, Cuntland, are you gonna fucking shoot the asshole or what?"

Arthur turned around and aimed, wincing from the pain. He pulled the trigger but it only resulted in an empty click. Shit. "I'm out!" he yelled.

"Fucking hell!" Lovino groaned, "Is this how we're going to die? Fuck this country! All it's given me were shitty food and shitty people!"

There was a moment of ceasefire. Arthur looked back to see the man reloading his gun. With all the fight he had left in him, the Englishman turned his horse around and galloped straight toward the man. I'm not going to die here, he reminded himself.

Lovino pressed onward, but continued to yell curses at Arthur. What the hell was he doing?

Arthur was closing the space between himself and the other man. The man looked up from his gun and was faced with a bloody and determined Briton. Arthur summoned up all the strength he could muster and threw his revolver. He didn't hit the man, but he sure did hit his target. The horse bucked and sent the man flying off his saddle.

The Englishman spent no extra time with the man on the ground. He turned his horse around and made his way toward Lovino. The man continued to shoot at Arthur. A bullet sank deep into his horse's flank which made it fall. Arthur was thrown off its back and landed on his left arm. He screamed out in pain, but the man showed no mercy. He kept on shooting at Arthur until he ran out of bullets again. The Briton tried crawling away, but stopped when he heard a bloodcurdling scream and the sound of bones cracking.

"Lovino?" he whispered in fear.

When he turned around, his eyes didn't meet with Lovino's. Instead, they were faced with a pair of violent green ones. Atop the horse was a little girl. Her short blonde hair displayed clumps of red and the top of her dress was stained crimson. She cocked her shotgun and aimed at Arthur. "For my big brother," she said.

AN: The term "riding shotgun" actually originated in this era. It was because there was always a guy armed with a shotgun sitting next to the stage driver whenever money was being delivered.

diciotto- eighteen

Bleiben hier- Stay here

shinplaster- money of lesser value

Mary- effeminate homosexuals

tarnal- equivalent to 'damn'

dolcezza- sweetheart

Bist du in Ordnung? Kannst du mich hören?- Can you hear me? Are you okay?