Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Dynamite Entertainment, Rockstar, etc.

Extraction II, watch it.

ian12091995: Here's some more, hope you enjoy.

Lilspooky221: Thanks for the kind words, here's the next installment.

Here's the next installment, where I get to introduce one of my favorite characters that I have planned, partly because he's very different from anyone else I've written before.

She-Devil of the Frontier

Chapter 3: When the Devil Calls

Adjusting her grip, Sonja fired the sixth shot in her Colt, the revolver bucking in her hand as the straw stuffed facsimile of a man twitched from the impact. Raising the barrel of the smoking gun, the Hyrkanian let out a sigh of relief when she heard Walker say, "Good, you're getting better." Preening under the praise of her teacher, Sonja began unloading the spent cartridge casings from the gun's cylinder. "Still got some work to do if you're to last long around here."

Carefully pulling a half-dozen fresh cartridges from her second leather belt and inserting the well fashioned metallic items into the open chambers in the cylinder, Sonja smiled at the Bounty Hunter. "I have no intention of dying anytime soon, I assure you," replied the Hyrkanian as she closed the loading gate of the Colt.

"Let's make sure of that," drawled Walker around the cigarillo he had in his mouth as he placed a hand on Sonja's back. "Keep your back straight, bend your knees to stay low, that helps if the other guy is shooting back at you. Now focus," he instructed as Sonja adjusted her stance and took aim once more.

Following the apprehension of Walton the prior day, Sonja had gone to Walker and pressed him to give her more instruction in the use of her newly purchased pistol and rifle. While Sonja had picked up the principals of their use well enough, she was simply not as familiar with them as the sword that hung on her hip. So she had been drilled by Walker for most of the day and then first thing this morning to make sure his lessons had taken root. And after firing six shots at a goodly pace, Sonja felt confident that the next time guns were drawn, she would be ready. "That is quite good I'd say, I think I will be prepared for the next gunfight we get into," she asserted as she holstered her gun.

The snort that emanated from Joshua wasn't encouraging, and the man merely dropped and stamped out his cigarillo before he pulled his duster back and relaxed with his hand resting on the pearl grip of his own weapon. In a smooth, extremely swift movement, he drew and leveled his gun at his hip, firing without using the 'iron sights' atop the weapon as his left hand rapidly worked the hammer to fire all six shots in as long as it took Sonja to get off two. Looking down at the target, she could see six fresh holes along its whole form, not the best shooting, but good enough to kill a man.

Irked at being shown up, Sonja crossed her arms and cocked a hip as she glared at the chuckling Gunslinger as he gave his Schofield a dramatic twirl and slid it back into its holster. "Don't worry Calamity Dame, you'll get there one day," he promised before wrapping an arm around her and giving her a quick kiss that quickly cracked Sonja's resolve. After she returned the affection and relaxed, Walker pulled back, his cocky smirk still on his face. "You're still a lot better with a gun than I am with a sword."

Before Sonja could reply, a new voice brought their exchange to an abrupt end, "I hope I ain't interruptin' nothin," drawled Caroline. The Rancher had a playful smirk on her face, "I just got back from town, and I've heard about your plans."

Sonja cocked an eyebrow and turned to look at the Walker, who had a glimmer of mirth in his eye. "Is that a fact?" asked Joshua, clearly amused.

"That's a fact," returned MacLaughlin in the same tone, a small grin on her tanned face. "From Jeb Cooper, you two will settle here and make a life for yourselves."

"I can assure you that we have no such intention," announced Sonja, hands on her hips as she faced MacLaughlin. "Long have I sought adventure and have no desire to cease doing so. I wish to see all this land has to offer. But before then, there is a piece of my past that has come to this land as well and it is the one thing I would prefer was left behind."

The mirthful eyes of Caroline fell on the Hyrkanian, "You do so love talking in riddles, Ms. Sonja. Do you do that, I wonder, as a substitute for having a personality? Or is that what your outfit is for?"

Sonja's eyes narrowed, even if there was no malice in the woman's words, they still stung the She-Devil. Anger did not well up inside Sonja, but rather a distinct sense of isolation, she saw the way people looked at her in this land: Disdain, bewilderment, and shock were the most common, and even Caroline always had a look of amused curiosity that gave the Hyrkanian a sense of ostracization, however unintended it might've been.

It was not in her ways to back down, however, and so Sonja stood tall, hands defiantly on her hips, "Ms. MacLaughlin, I had a family, a good one, parents who loved me and a brother whom I looked up to. They were all killed by brigands sent by a powerful man, Kulan Gath, to pillage Hyrkania. I have spent years trying to right the wrongs Gath has committed across my land, and when I thought he was within my grasp, he eluded me once again and fled here. I committed to this journey alone, and I wear this outfit because it allowed me to distract the men I battled. I have seen much death and destruction in my quest, and I will see more here, in your land, until Gath is vanquished, by my blade or my gun, I know this. But I must end him if I am to have any hope of peace." Seeing the stunned looks on the faces of Caroline and Joshua, Sonja's eyes dipped down, "I do not know if this is interesting to you, but I hope you understand why I do not often speak of it."

After a moment of tense silence, Caroline took a step closer, "No, I do understand. I had no idea. You poor woman." The Rancher put a comforting hand on Sonja's shoulder and the Hyrkanian flinched at the touch.

"Your land or mine, memories don't fade," stated Walker in a quiet, rough tone. "Retribution is a demand that can't be ignored, just outran. People don't forget, and nothing gets forgiven."

"Aye," agreed Sonja as she took hold of Walker's hand, thankful for the comforting squeeze he gave her.

"Especially when it comes to money," murmured Caroline, who looked up to see Walker and Sonja eying her expectantly. "Even now, after all his labors, my father's debts are still terrible. I worry every day about us losing the ranch. Doesn't matter if it's to the bank, the bandits, or the railroad, it would kill him."

Sonja could hear the pain in MacLaughlin's voice, and knew her fears were genuine. The Hyrkanian had seen too many such tales in Hyboria, and silently vowed that one of her few friends in this new land would not fall victim to those arrayed against her.

"My father," began Walker, his voice faltering, "He never paid me much mind, just enough so that I knew what was expected of me. My mother raised me, instilled her values, if not her faith, until she died when I was nine. Killed in a mugging, so the story went, but my old man wasn't too broke up about it. After that, I had a tutor, a Prussian, who taught me just about everything else I know. He was my tutor because my father wanted me to be something, and that's what I became. I learned what my father wanted, and I couldn't reconcile it with what my mother had always wanted, so I left. But there was only a few things I could do, so I wound up doing what my father wanted me to, in a way, but I wasn't doing it for him. I never could leave it behind, not sure I want to."

Sonja found herself hanging on every word; she had never heard Walker speak of how he came to be and it was strange to hear him be so suddenly candid. "I'm telling you this because I do have plans, and they will test us, so I need you to trust me. Can you do that, Miss MacLaughlin?"

The Rancher smiled, "I do Joshua, and call me Caroline." Sonja saw Walker smile, but it was an ironic expression, the difference slight, but one she had learned over the time spent together. "Good, but I actually came to tell you that the Marshal wishes to speak with y'all today."

"Ah," answered Walker, rubbing his chin, "I think it best we see what he wants, and buy more ammunition. We'll ride into town after lunch."

"Well, y'all'd better finish up here, lunch is almost ready," reminded Caroline before she turned back the way she had come.

"Alright Sonja, let's collect the brass, we'll pick up the tools so you can reuse it today as well. And one more thing, you do trust me about what we're doing, right?"

In answer, the Hyrkanian leaned in to give him a small kiss. "We have fought and bled at each other's side and you are the first man with whom I have shared a bed. My trust is yours; you need but ask." She then curled her lips up slightly, "However, I do not wish to be tied up again, if that is your plan."

The Bounty Hunter chuckled, "I'll keep that in mind."

Freshly stocked with ammunition, Walker led Sonja to Cooper's office, opening the door to find the man sitting at his desk with an odd black contraption in hand. The Lawman spoke into the larger piece while holding the smaller component, attached by a small cable, to his ear, "Hello? Hello? This is Deming 731."

Walker tipped his hat in greeting as the old Marshal looked up, "What is it with these things?" he muttered. The Bounty Hunter had never seen the device Cooper was trying to make use of, but noted the wire that ran from the larger part of the handset to the back wall of the office and wondered if this was some sort of speaking telegraph. "Hello?" tired Cooper, his dogged persistence meeting with no result. Looking up at Walker and Sonja, the Marshal offered in explanation, "It's a new line."

"Sounds fun, what's happening?" asked Walker, sensing that Cooper enjoyed small talk even less than he did.

"I have no idea," admitted the Marshal gruffly, dropping the smaller part of the contraption back on the hook of the larger bit. "If it's important, they'll send someone down, or send a telegram."

"Telegram?" intoned Sonja.

"A letter, transmitted through those wires you see running alongside the railroad," replied Joshua. He saw Sonja nod, but the look in her eye told him that she didn't really understand the methodology that made the system possible. Still, she didn't pry further, and Walker turned back to the Marshal. "Suddenly, the world is full of 'theys.'"

The remark drew a chuckle from the old Lawman. "I remember when we first got here, we used to consider people from Dade county to be exotic. Now guys can get here from the Midwest, and they can do it in six days."

Letting out a low whistle, Walker mused, "A thousand miles in six days. Things have changed."

"They've gotten away from me," admitted Cooper as the old Marshal leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "I don't understand it no more, boy. Honest to goodness."

"I certainly do not," admitted Sonja under her breath, and Walker couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the woman. As formidable as she was, the Hyrkanian was clearly struggling to adapt to the technology slowly spreading throughout the west.

Before Joshua could reply, a frantic cry emanated from outside, "Marshal! Marshal! Marshal!" Walker turned to the door as it opened to reveal a rotund, heavy-set man in an ill-fitting vest that only had its top button done up because it couldn't close over his gut. Despite that, he had a star pinned on that vest and a gun belt strapped awkwardly around his waist. He took one look at the two hired guns and blinked in shock before turning to the elder lawman. "I just been up in the canyons, spying like you said. I think I seen me a couple of them rustlers. I think it was the Bollard Twins and a couple o' Mexicans," he reported in a strong southern accent.

Cooper stood, his eyes alert, "They up there right now?" he pressed.

"Well, it was a group of about a dozen men rounding up Mr. Gulch's livestock and none of them looked like any of Gulch's hands, so… yes sir, right now," returned the deputy.

"That sarcasm's unbecoming Eli," admonished Jeb flatly, "It's gonna hold you back in life, even worse than your lazy eye." Cowed, Eli clamped his mouth shut while Cooper picked up a pair of scatterguns and tossed one to his deputy. "Alright," he said as he cracked open the second to ensure it was loaded, "Let's go!" he barked, slamming the breech shut. Looking up at Walker and Sonja, he asked, "Will you two ride with us again?"

"Will you help us?" returned Walker as he met the Marshal's eyes.

His response was immediate and firm, "I will try."

Satisfied at the response, Joshua turned to gauge his partner's reaction and gave her a small nod. Cracking a slight but vicious grin, Sonja declared, "Then it would be our pleasure."

"Off here, we'll go on foot," announced Cooper as the whole group dismounted their horses just off the trail that led into a canyon carved into the towering rock face that loomed over them. Sonja unslung her Rolling Block and joined Marshal Cooper, his two deputies, Jonah and Eli, and Walker at the base of a footpath that split off from the main trail. "Stay low and keep an eye out for those rat bastards," instructed the older lawman.

The group moved along the footpath up along the canyon face, with Sonja scanning for any sign of trouble on the ground below when one of the deputies, Jonah, spoke up. "So how long you two been Pinkertons?" he asked in his nasally tone.

While the Hyrkanian was put off by the accusation, Walker whipped around with a cold anger in his blue eyes. "We aren't," he growled lowly, glaring daggers at the greasy deputy.

The other, fatter one, spoke up next, "So then what are you? Some kinda vigilantes?"

"They sure don't look like no Pinkertons," agreed Jonah.

"It's complicated, we didn't come here by choice, but we are choosing to stay," returned Tombstone. "Best to think of us as Bounty Hunters."

The answer seem to fail to satisfy Jonah. "You sure are a tight-lipped son-of-a-bitch, mister."

"Suppose I am," agreed Walker with a cold tone that Sonja would have been afeared of challenging.

Jonah, it seemed, was braver than Sonja gave him credit for. "Ain't you all proud and superior? Don't you forget that you need us more than we need you. Someone pretending to be a legend and some Savage woman who dresses like a…."

"Simmer down Jonah," cut off Marshal Cooper from his position at the front of the pack.

Sonja, self-satisfied smirk on her lips at seeing the man cowed, couldn't help but put the man in his place herself. "Listen to your boss, that's a good boy," she teased.

Walker, it seemed, was in no mood for jokes. Eyes narrowing, the Gunslinger spoke with the stoic calm that made him stand out from so many other dangerous men Sonja had met. "Otherwise, I'll put a hole in your hillbilly head and watch your tiny brain drain out."

Jonah bristled at the threat and opened his mouth to answer when Eli, the rotund deputy, spoke up first. "The Bollards were just up around this bend," he warned as the group neared a turn through the weaving canyon.

Sonja pulled the hammer of her Rolling Block all the way back, ready to fire, when Cooper turned to the group. "Be ready boys, we're probably going to be outnumbered. Those bastards won't be short on firepower either. If we can take 'em alive, great. If not, smoke the sons-of-bitches."

The Hyrkanian was rapidly revising her opinions of the Marshal further upward still, and the She-Devil's fingers flexed around her strange new weapon as she hoped these 'rustlers' would be foolish enough to offer battle. "Music to my ears, Marshal," said Jonah in his nasally drawl.

Rounding the corner of the path, Sonja could feel eyes upon her and made to voice her worries when a salvo of gunshots echoed off the rock walls. "Damn!" exclaimed Cooper, "Those bastards were waiting for us!"

Standing on the top of the cliff above them, a trio of men fired down at the group, their bullets errantly striking the rock face behind them. The others sought refuge behind a pair of boulders, but Sonja, unimpressed by the marksmanship of her foes, stood her ground and shouldered her own rifle, just as she had practiced, and took aim. Of all the things the Hyrkanian had to adjust to when learning to shoot a rifle, aiming by use of the 'sights' instead of the instinct used when firing a bow, was the most difficult. Once she had settled the tip of the 'front' post between the notch at the rear and placed her sights on one of the men shooting at her. Pulling the trigger back, Sonja felt the familiar, heavy, recoil of the Rolling Block that caused her to take a step back as the thunderous report echoed off the canyon walls.

Lowering the smoking rifle, Sonja was satisfied to see that the man she had fired upon fell from the impact of her shot as she set about reloading her Remington. "Get down Calamity Dame!" called Walker, causing Sonja to comply, crouching down beside the Bounty Hunter.

Pulling the breech block back and ejecting the spent brass, Sonja grinned at Walker, "That's one for me."

Leaning out from behind the boulder, Joshua raised his Winchester and snapped off a rapid series of shots. "Two for me," he announced as he slipped back behind the rock and went about reloading.

Sonja poked her head out, and saw that two more men were missing from the cliff above while the rest had turned tail and were fleeing. "The bastards are running! After 'em boys!" barked the Marshal as Sonja shoved a fresh round into the breech and closed it, joining the rest of the group in their pursuit of the brigands. "Tell the Bollards we'll kill every last one of 'em!" shouted Cooper, his gravelly tones carrying through the canyon.

As the group swept through the canyon, Sonja saw signs of what had happened here, tracks of men and animals littered the dusty ground, encampments that had been ransacked, and the body of a man who had tried to resist which had been left for the vultures. "Up here boys, let's see if we can get above 'em," drawled the Marshal as he led the group off the main path and up a slight slope, following a footpath that ran along a step in the canyon walls. Cooper came to a sudden stop, "Lookout ahead."

"I'll dispose of him," announced Sonja as she slung the Remington across her back. Crouching down the Hyrkanian warrior drew her dagger and turned back "Cover me," she told the men before she crouched down low and crept through the brush towards the sole man on watch.

She could hear the echoes of the bandits shouting at each other, the survivors of the initial fight warning their fellows of the approaching group. The sentry's eyes were on the ground below, expecting the marauding lawbringers to follow the retreating bandits, and Sonja snuck closer as she shifted her grip on the blade in her hand. Moving with the keen senses she had honed in Hyboria, the She-Devil crept to within a few steps of her intended victim when he idly looked back, eyes widening at the sight of the woman approaching him.

Before he could react, Sonja sprang forward with all the fury and swiftness she could bring to bear on him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and plunging her dagger into him, slipping it between his ribs as she drove it in. Looking into his panicked eyes, Sonja saw the emotions flash across them as he frantically tried to escape her blade or flail his arms in some attempt at retaliation before he went totally limp. Pulling her knife free of his lifeless corpse and flicking the blood off the blade, Sonja heard someone call up from below, "You see anybody Butch? Butch?"

Slinking back from the edge, the Hyrkanian sought any place to get out of sight of the path she could hear footsteps approaching from. Failing to find anywhere to hide, Sonja turned around right as the man crested the rise of the footpath and came to a stop, his eyes locked on the dead body. Charging at the bandit with dagger in hand, Sonja raised the blade to drive it down on the man only for him to whip around and raise his repeater, blocking her attack. Gritting her teeth, Sonja pressed down on the man's block raising her foot and slamming it into the man's unprotected sternum, sending him flailing back over the edge of the cliff and to his demise.

The sound of his impact echoed off the walls and was quickly replaced by a series of gunshots as Sonja went for her revolver and loosed a hasty return shot before the men charged in. "Fire at will boys! But try to keep the hostages and cattle alive!" barked Cooper as the men rushed to the cliffside and fired down upon the bandits in the canyon below.

Only Walker pressed on, his Schofields drawn, "Let's get stuck in Calamity Dame," he urged, and Sonja followed him down the path. Tombstone raised both guns and fired them, one after the other with a grace that Sonja couldn't hope to match as the pair shot at the rustlers trying to hide from the Lawmen firing on them from above.

Seeing the veteran Bounty Hunter gun down a trio of men in quick succession, Sonja could hold herself back no longer and veered off the path, sliding down the slope on her heels to get amongst the remaining bandits more swiftly. Many were rushing to a group of tents, at least the ones who chose not to stand and fight Cooper and his Deputies, and Sonja wanted to get in amongst them, leaping off the slope and coming down only for the heel of her boot to sheer off, causing the Hyrkanian to stumble as the rustlers rounded on her.

Panicked, they fired their guns from the hip, as Walker was prone to do, but their shots flew errantly to either side of Sonja. Leaning awkwardly on her good boot, the Hyrkanian took aim and fired in reply, her first shot struck one in the shoulder and sent him reeling. Following one of Joshua's lessons, she swung the Colt around to aim at a second man and fired again, striking him in the chest and sending him crumpling to the ground.

Thumbing the hammer back, she turned her attention to the man she had just wounded and saw him try to raise his gun with his good arm, only for Sonja to pull the trigger and shoot him down. More men emerged from the tents and turned on the Hyrkanian, nearly half a dozen of them, and Sonja raised her gun. Quickly firing two shots at the first man she saw and hitting her mark with both, Sonja then turned to fire at the next, only when she pulled the trigger again, the hammer came down on a spent shell casing.

Eyes widening, Sonja saw the men bringing their weapons to bear when a series of rapid shots rang out as Walker waded onto the field, splitting the attention of the bandits. Taking advantage of their attention being divided, the Hyrkanian scampered towards a rock as bullets skipped off the ground around her until the She-Devil stumbled into cover. "Scathach's tits!" she cursed while bullets slammed into the rock and sent stone chips past her head.

The incoming fire suddenly subsided as her foes guns ran dry, and Sonja holstered her Colt for the Remington before taking aim, cutting loose with the massive Rolling Block rifle and sending one man sprawling back when hit. "She's empty! Rush her!" shouted one of the men as Sonja ducked back to reload, and managed to get the next cartridge in and close the breech when the oncoming bandits, brandishing knives or fists, were upon her.

Wrapping one hand around the barrel of her rifle, Sonja swung the heavy wooden stocked weapon with all her might, striking the first man in the face. He collapsed upon the strike as his three fellows hesitated at the last step before reaching the Hyrkanian, and it was a mistake Sonja would take advantage of. Taking a step forwards despite her unsteady footing, the She-Devil swung her weapon again, one man ducked and the other stepped back, but the third caught the butt on the side of his face. While he went sprawling, Sonja snapped the hammer all the way back and leveled the gun, pressing the muzzle into the chest of the nearest man and pulling the trigger. The massive .50-90 Sharps cartridge sent a geyser of blood erupting from his back as the man staggered from the force of the impact, more blood pouring from the wound.

Shoving the corpse aside, Sonja was set upon by the last bandit, his big, meaty hands wrapping around the Remington and trying to wrestle the gun away from her. Gritting her teeth, Sonja pushed back and held the man at a standstill as she tried to set her feet on her broken boots and found she couldn't overpower him. So instead of pushing back, she pulled him around and relinquished her grip on the weapon, causing the man to stumble past the Hyrkanian. He turned to face her, but before he could recover, Sonja had drawn her longsword and sliced up across his torso, cutting through cloth and flesh with equal ease, causing him to scream as Sonja pulled the blade close and thrust the tip forwards, impaling the man on her sword until he went limp.

Pulling her blade back, Sonja looked around and saw no less that twenty bodies strewn about, and it seemed that Walker and the Lawmen had slain their fair share. Cooper led his deputies down the slope, "That looks like all of 'em. Fine shootin' boys. Now untie those hostages," barked the Marshal. His deputies dutifully jogged to the civilians who were tied up beside the tents while the Marshal made for Sonja and arrived just as Walker offered her the Remington she had dropped. "Good work you two, I appreciate the help. Now it'll take us a while to sort all this out, but come by my office this afternoon. I'll get you the bounty on these guys and we can discuss Simon," said Cooper in his deep, growly voice as he offered his hand.

Sonja shook it before Walker did the same, "Thank you Marshal, we'll be there," assured the Bounty Hunter before Cooper turned and strode off to the rescued civilians.

"Will you make it back to the horses?" asked Tombstone with a hint of mirth, and Sonja saw him nod towards her broken boot. "Or do ya' want me to carry you?"

"As much as your manhood would enjoy that, I will manage without your aid," returned the Hyrkanian with determination showing through the fatigue of combat and a tinge of sadness, she had liked these boots. Taking a step forward, Sonja staggered as she came down on her broken heel and had to grab hold of Walker to keep her balance. His chuckle was returned by a harsh glare from Sonja that the swordswoman failed to maintain as she held out an arm, "Maybe a bit of aid."

Much to Sonja's delight, the Bounty Hunter replied, "It'd be a pleasure, my dear," as they returned to the horses.

"How's that feel, miss?" asked the Cobbler, a kindly old gentleman with a thick pair of eyeglasses and slight paunch, but Walker watched him work and could tell he was good. After overcoming his indignation about Sonja's manner of dress, and the quality of her boots, the man had set about fashioning her a new pair with impressive speed. After stopping by the saloon to have lunch and picking up more ammunition, the duo returned to find Sonja's boots ready for a fitting.

Giving her foot an experimental roll, Sonja stood and took a few steps around the shop, testing out the new footwear. The pair of knee-high tan riding boots fit snugly around her shapely legs, but didn't seem to impair her movement as she mimicked a few of her sword fighting moves before turning to face the Cobbler. "They feel superb my good man," she announced happily.

"Look good too," commented Walker around his cigarillo. The tan leather was a nice contrast to the slight bronze tinge of her skin after spending so much time under the New Mexico sun.

The redhead turned to him, "Then maybe you should get a pair of your own," she suggested coyly.

"Wouldn't hurt to have a spare pair," mused Tombstone, "Better to change out before one of my boots breaks during a gunfight." The flash of anger that came across her face was hot enough to deter Walker from continuing along that line of thinking as he took a puff of his tobacco. "Ready to go see what Cooper wanted?"

"Quite," agreed Sonja swiftly, offering a few bills to the Cobbler for his work before the duo left the small shop and made their way back to Deming's main street. Heading for the Marshal's office, Sonja confided, "I tire of this errand work, Joshua. In my land a whole band of man would have answered my call had I just put it out. Why can you not do the same here?"

Walker winced, "I'm afraid I don't have the reputation that you did, Calamity Dame. While there are other bounty hunters out there, they don't like to work together, means less money for each involved. Most of these other folks? They're farmers or laborers, just trying to make it. They'll defend their livelihoods and families with grit and determination, but none of 'em wanna be heroes, Sonja."

"Yet you wish to enlist their aid?" pressed the Hyrkanian. "This Marshal, for instance, despite your stated distrust of authority."

"This one hasn't asked me to turn in my guns," retorted Walker, coming to a stop as he dropped and stamped out his cigarillo just across from Cooper's office. "Listen, these people, getting them to help won't be easy, but they're more than capable, it's worth our time if we're gonna take on that whole bunch."

"And why must we do that? If the bounty is just for their leader, than I can sneak in under cover of darkness and plunge my dagger through his heart as he sleeps," suggested Sonja with a certainty and enthusiasm that could only come from the fiery haired She-Devil, who slammed a fist into her palm to drive her point home.

Walker only shook his head, "Things here aren't that simple, Sonja. Say you get him, then we got the whole rest of the gang on our tails, lookin' for revenge, without anyone to keep 'em in check. Simon's gang is so big because he's been able to wrangle those fellas in so they don't get a posse of Rangers comin' down on their heads, we remove him and there's no tellin' what they'll do."

"You are afeared of their reprisals," surmised Sonja, not incorrectly.

"Not on us, we can take care of ourselves. But MacLaughlin? Cooper? It'll be tougher for 'em than us." His explanation brought the She-Devil up short as she pondered this problem as Walker saw it, but she had no forthcoming answer. "It's better we get as many of 'em in one fell swoop as we can… more money in that too."

Sonja raised her eyebrow, "How much more?"

Shrugging, Walker turned to continue towards the Marshal's office, "Double, maybe triple, enough to make it worth it. We can't just rush in, like we did with Lyreen and risk some slipping past us." Sonja fell in silently beside him, her face still in thought as they neared Cooper's office and ascended the steps before entering.

"Ah, y'all're here," greeted Cooper as he stood and pulled out a strongbox, opening it before beginning to count out the bills stored inside. Two even stacks were placed on the table before the old man closed the box. "That's for your help today with the Bollards," began the Marshal as he settled back into his chair, "Now, as for Simon. I'll do what I can, but as you both saw, this country is infested with all manner of scum."

"You can say that again," muttered Sonja as they both claimed their bounties.

The Marshal lit a long cigar and took a puff, "Things haven't changed all that much from when you were last around, Tombstone. And down here's never been as nice as it was further north." Walker merely nodded in reply, from what he'd seen, the more things had changed, the more others had stayed the same. "Who knows, maybe having a man of your reputation around will help improve things."

"I sure don't, Marshal," drawled the Bounty Hunter, wondering just how much the Marshal had learned about him. Since he seemed receptive to him still, Joshua figured that the man liked what he'd heard, and that would do for now. "Look forward to workin' with you," drawled Walker as he tipped his hat to the old man and turned to leave right as the door opened and Eli ambled in.

"Marshal sir, Mr. Walker, Ms. Sonja," he said, removing his bowler hat.

"What is it, Eli?" asked Cooper, not even looking up from his paperwork.

"It's Mr. West Dickens, he's missing," reported the Deputy while Walker made sure to carefully gauge the Marshal's reaction, what little of it there was.

"Who?" was all Cooper had to say.

"Mr. West Dickens," repeated the overweight lawman before adding, "The tonics merchant." While Walker force himself to keep a straight face, Cooper, it seemed, made no effort to stop his eyes from rolling. Eli went on undeterred, however, "He was due in town last week."

That seemed to jog the Marshal's memory, "Oh! The narcotic and bat piss salesman." He turned to the straight faced Walker and bewildered Sonja to elaborate, "He cons housewives out of their money with promises of eternal youth."

"Yes, him…" acknowledged Eli through gritted teeth, "I think you're being a little unfair… he's helped a great many of the county, and many of the town's folk are really missing him," insisted the Deputy.

Cooper chewed on his cigar as he looked up, "Ya' hear that Walker? We butcher a gang of thieves and the town is up in arms about a missing snake oil merchant? I am so glad to be serving such a wise and respectable people."

The contempt and sarcasm in his tone couldn't be missed, and Sonja couldn't fully suppress the bark of laughter that escaped her lips. Walker, on the other hand, sensed not just derision, but also opportunity. "Where was this West Dickens fella comin' from?" he asked the Deputy.

Eli's eyes widened in surprise, "He was… was comin' from the Southwestern Union camp to the east, I think."

Nodding, Walker tipped his hat, "Much obliged, Marshal, Deputy," he said before heading straight out the door, the gears in his mind already turning.

With the sun setting in the distance, Walker brought Shelby to a stop atop a small hill and scanned the road ahead. Reaching for a cigarillo and striking a match against the leather of his saddle, Tombstone blinked back the fatigue that was settling in after a long ride. Sonja came to a stop alongside him, and the Bounty Hunter could sense the frustration emanating from the Hyrkanian woman after hours of fruitless searching. The pair had ridden all the way to the railroad camp many miles to the east only to learn that West Dickens had left the prior week.

They did manage to glean which route the traveling salesman had taken and set out after him, keeping an eye out for the opulent emblazoned stagecoach the man apparently had. An hour of hard riding later and there was still no sign of the man. "Darkness draws near, Joshua Walker," intoned Sonja, "We must return to Deming or make camp, our search cannot continue for much longer."

Eyes panning over the stream that snaked through the desert, Walker's gaze settled on the ramshackle ruins of a small farm and the stagecoach parked there. "We may not have to," drawled Tombstone as he reached for the Winchester Repeater on his saddle and worked the lever to chamber the first cartridge, "You see that wagon down there? What's it say?"

Huffing, Sonja leaned forward in her own saddle and squinted. "West Dickens Elixir," she said before turning to face him. "What is he doing there?"

"Lets go find out," replied Walker as he held the rifle in one hand and the reins in the other, giving them a flick as he carefully steered Shelby down the slope of the hill. Carefully picking their way through the terrain and crossing the stream before arriving at the abandoned farm. "Not abandoned," realized Walker quietly, "Run down."

"What makes you say that?" asked Sonja, her own hand hovering near her sword, Walker noticed.

"Food tins, fire pit," noted Walker, nodding towards the collection of ash covered wood and sprawled array of metal cans. Grip tightening around the Winchester in anticipation of what might be lurking in the ramshackle buildings, Walker lead Sonja forward, ignoring the 'Keep Out' signs that were posted on the few standing fenceposts. "Whoever lives here, they aren't here now," breathed Walker as he guided his horse behind the barn and dismounted.

"I'll check the house then," responded Sonja before riding off, her horse kicking up dust as it covered the short stretch of ground to the simple farmhouse.

Pulling open the rotting, creaking barn door, noting that the top half hung limply from its rusted hinges. Stepping cautiously into the shadowy murk of the wooden structure, Walker passed by empty stables for horses, peering into each until he saw a shadow cloaked form slumped in the back of one. "Excuse me!" hissed Walker, "Excuse me!" he tried again, louder, "Sir, you need help?" Taking a step closer, he could hear a muffled groan emanate from the lump and spoke again, "You alive, mister?"

A series of rapid, albeit muffled grunts came back at Walker, and the Bounty Hunter crouched down beside the bound man and pulled out the gag he had stuffed in his mouth. "Bugger fuck! Goddamnit! Good heavens!" cursed the man in a ragged, rough voice.

"Excuse me?" questioned Walker as he set the stock of the Winchester in the dirt.

"I said no, I'm not okay," spat the man, "Does it look like I'm okay?"

"You look good for a corpse," observed Walker, voice deadpan as he reached for the Bowie knife on his belt.

"Praise be," returned the bound man in the same tone.

"Let me get those ropes," said Walker as he began sawing through them with the fighting knife. "Then we can get you to a doctor, or an undertaker, whichever you need when we get to town."

Cutting his arms free, Walker set to work on the rope around the man's legs as he cried out, "St. Peter, open up them pearly gates… I'm coming home!"

"Is he the swindling apothecary?" asked Sonja, the Hyrkanian standing at the gate of the stable, gazing on as Walker nodded and then helped the impeccably dressed West Dickens to his feet. Emerging from the darkened corner, the extent of the man's injuries was apparent, one eye was swollen, and his finely tailored attire was stained with blood and grime. Taking a step forward, Walker noted he clearly favored one leg and leaned onto the Bounty Hunter.

"He has seen fit to send an angel to guide me onto the heavenly plane!" exclaimed the swindler as he got a good look at the redheaded warrior woman.

"I'd say so," deadpanned Walker before turning to West Dickens. "What happened to you, old man?"

"Bandits! Highwaymen! I was set upon by a bunch on my way to Deming, they sought to rob me and hold me for ransom!" exclaimed the con-man, Walker could tell he was playing up his injuries and rolled his eyes.

Sonja, at least, had some good news, "Those men, whoever they are, they are not here." Nodding an acknowledgment, Walker guided the delirious, or delusional, West Dickens towards the front barn door, nearer as it was to his stagecoach, when he heard the approaching drone of hooves. "Tarim's blood," muttered Sonja.

Walker couldn't help but agree, "They're back," he surmised as he helped set West Dickens down beside the door as the horses approached. "Stay here, stay still, stay quiet," intoned Walker with all the weight he could put behind the words. Hearing the pace of the horses slow as they approached, the Bounty Hunter was about to snuff out his cigarillo when he saw a labeled box in the corner. Opening the container, he smiled around the tobacco and grabbed one of the items inside before rejoining Sonja, hearing muffled shouts through the wood. "What's happening?"

"My horse, he's in the open," the Hyrkanian admitted tersely as she drew her revolver. "These brigands will be aware of our presence."

Idly tossing the item he'd taken in his hand, a plan began to take form in the Bounty Hunter's mind as he peered through a gap in the rotting wood. There were maybe ten men getting off their horses, readying a motely mix of firearms as they looked around, their shouts muffled by the barn. "Can you call your horse?" asked Walker, and Sonja nodded, "Then go out the back and do that, see if you can lure 'em this way, and I'll give 'em a surprise," he said, holding up the stick of dynamite.

Sonja eyed the explosive warily, clearly pensive about the unknown implement, but asked no questions, instead silently slipping towards the open back door of the barn. Walker held his nerve as he slid next to the biggest gap in the degraded planks and leaned his Winchester against the rotting wood until he heard a sharp whistle cut through the air. Everyone went still, all except Sonja's horse, which bolted across the open ground at the call of its owner. The bandits clustered together to follow the horse, causing Walker to smile as he removed the cigarillo from his mouth and brought the softly glowing end to the dynamite's fuse.

Once it was lit, Walker watched it burn down with one eye while the other was locked on the bandits as they approached. Once he judged the timing and distance to be correct, Tombstone tossed the tobacco away and hurled the explosive out the door, watching as the stick tumbled across the ground and came to a stop amongst the group of bandits. The men scattered just before the deafening explosion shook the barn, knocking dust from the rafters as Walker feared the whole structure would collapse from the blast.

After a tense moment, Walker peered through the gap once more, only to be met with a face full of dust kicked up by the dynamite as he tried to discern how many of the bandits, if any, were left standing. He got his answer when gunfire erupted, the staccato of pistols, rapid fire of repeaters, and deep report of a shotgun or two hammered his ears, the hailstorm of bullets shattered planks and drove Tombstone to the ground. Now out of reach of his Winchester, Joshua drew a Schofield and crawled towards a gap in the wall that he could probably squeeze through, just.

Sticking his head out, he saw the surviving bandits pumping the barn full of lead when he heard the thunderous galloping of hooves charging towards him. Streaking across his field of view, Sonja sat atop her horse, longsword swinging as she waded into the bandits while they tried to get out of arm's reach of the horse mounted Hyrkanian, while she carved through a second man and wheeled her steed around.

When she did, the resonating thunder of a scattergun erupted as he saw Sonja's horse topple over, the woman twisting her way off the animal as it fell to the ground. Teeth set with cold fury, Walker pulled himself through the gap in the barn and scrambled to his feet, taking aim with both Schofields as he advanced on the bandits. Seeing the forms of the men through the settling dust, Walker fired the guns one after the other, aiming each in turn as he worked his way through the cylinders, lining up whichever man turned to face him as he waded into the group.

A few of the last ones managed to snap off errant shots back at Walker, but the Bounty Hunter ignored the bullets zipping past him, his only response was to swing one Schofield or the other to face the offending gunman before loosing off a reply. With ice in his veins that was cooler than the darkening desert around him, Tombstone gunned down the group of highwaymen until only one was left standing, eager to eschew his repeater and throw up his hands. "Mercy mister! Mercy!" he begged as he fell to his knees before the Bounty Hunter.

"You part of the group of highwaymen who took the old man in the barn hostage?" asked Walker lowly, able to see the apprehension on the man's face. "Answer me," growled the gunslinger lowly, thumbing the hammer back on a Smith & Wesson for emphasis.

The bandit's features were that of a hard man, the scraggy remains of a patchy beard that hadn't been properly trimmed were interspersed with deep creases, and a slightly crooked nose sat under a pair of beady eyes. Despite those eyes remaining blank, the man nodded, "That was us, O'Grady's gang, we needed his stagecoach for another job we was plannin,' to move the money we's stole," he explained in a raspy, shaky tone. "We hit this Wells Fargo coach Mister, got us a big score in our saddlebags over there. Twenty thousand, you let me go and you can have half," he offered with a crooked grin.

"I see," replied Walker as he saw Sonja approach, weaving her way through the carnage the two had wrought. " And what about that old man?"

"We was gonna ransom him if we could, but he don't mean nothing to me," admitted the bandit.

"I'll pay his ransom," replied Walker cooly, causing both the bandit and Sonja to widen their eyes.

The bandit managed to overcome his shock and stammer out, "You will?"

Walker nodded once, a simple, final gesture. "I will," he affirmed, "I'll give you one bullet." The bandit opened his mouth to reply, but his words were drowned out by the report of the No. 3 revolver as the .44 caliber slug drilled a hole through his head and he slumped into the dirt and went still. Looking up from the corpse without a hint of remorse, Walker asked Sonja, "Your horse?"

"Dead," she replied, the pain clear in her faltering delivery, "He was a faithful companion for some time," she added.

Walker nodded solemnly, "And you?"

"Decidedly better, despite my rash actions," she answered sadly. Walker waited for her to say more, but after a moment of trying, Sonja failed to get any words out and the Bounty Hunter felt trying to pry would be foolish. Instead, the She-Devil turned her attention to the carnage strewn around them and asked, "What now?"

"We get all your kit into that wagon over there, then load up West Dickens. You drive him back to Deming, take him to the doctor, pay him what he needs to patch the old man up, pay him extra to work after hours," outlined Walker calmly, feeling at ease with the cordite peppering his nostrils. It was a better smell than the stench of rotting flesh that would soon fill the air.

"While you do what?" asked Sonja as they went towards the fallen horse.

"Get some identification off these fellas, and probably the money they stole. I'm sure Marshal Cooper'll be interested," returned Walker as he holstered his pistols and they set about removing the simple saddle and its associated equipment from Sonja's slain mount. "I'll follow you back to town on Shelby and get us a room for the night at the Saloon. The bounty on these bastards should cover the room and doctor's bills. We can head back to MacLaughlin's in the morning, figure out our next moves."

"A sound plan, I see no faults in it," replied Sonja after a moment's pause. The pair then gathered up her belongings and toted them towards West Dickens' stagecoach, which already had the horses secured to it. O'Grady's gang probably wanted to make a quick getaway after their robbery, surmised Walker. While it hadn't been to the bandits' benefit, it would be to theirs. "This man, West Dickens," Sonja began, struggling with the name somewhat, "How can he help us? He is no warrior," she observed condescendingly.

"That he ain't," admitted Walker as he opened the stagecoach door and tossed Sonja's items inside before she did the same. "But he's got this here stagecoach, and he's got a reputation, two things we don't."

"A reputation as a peddler of false wares and broken promises?" asked Sonja, unimpressed.

"Exactly," agreed Joshua. "He's the farthest thing from a killer there is. Everyone knows it. Something we don't have and it might be useful."

"I do not see how," retorted Sonja, arms crossed defiantly.

Giving her a small grin, Walker said, "Just trust me," before heading back for the barn with Sonja in tow. "You do, right?" he asked, unable to sound sure of himself.

"You have not steered me wrong thus far," replied Sonja after a moment's pause. "I still have much to learn about this strange land of yours, and the methods which you employ, they are so different to my own," she said as they veered to avoid the newly formed crater. "Such as what caused this. I have only seen such an effect from a sorcerer's powerful spell."

"It's called dynamite, it's like the black powder for our guns, just a lot of it in a stick. Miners use it to blast rock, but it's gotta lotta applications, if you're creative," he explained, a few examples coming to mind. Reaching the rotten barn door, Sonja simply kicked it open with one mighty effort and it crumbled at the impact of her new boot. Coughing as he tried to wave away the dust that now permeated the entrance, Walker pointed to a corner, "There was still some in that box over there, take it with you while I help Mr. West Dickens to his stagecoach."

That prompted a tired groan from the old man, "Please, end my suffering! I'm bleeding like a badly butchered hog!" Walker looked down and saw that West Dickens didn't look any worse than when he last saw him and rolled his eyes as he helped the old man up to his feet. As Walker guided West Dickens through the demolished door, the traveling salesman staggered and weaved, but didn't seem as badly off as he liked to shout. "What is your name, friend?" he asked.

"Joshua Walker," replied the gunslinger evenly, and was surprised at the reaction he got.

"Oh good god! Out of the frying pan and into the fire!" decried West Dickens. "I am a man with no enemies, why did a bounty killer come after me?" he asked as Walker steered him towards the stagecoach.

"The world works in mysterious ways, mister," observed Joshua dryly before West Dickens stumbled. Grunting in exertion, Walker helped the man keep his feet as he dragged his fine shoes through the sand with each short step, where he now favored a different leg than the one he had earlier.

"I… I knew you'd come, friend. I knew this wasn't my time. He has a greater purpose for me," announced West Dickens as they arrived at the stagecoach.

Sonja was not far behind. "Is he delirious, or just plain dumb?" she asked as she loaded the pilfered dynamite into the back.

Walker guided the man to the front bench, and he automatically began to climb up into the seat, managing quite well despite his apparent injuries. "Both?" guessed Walker after the man slumped onto the driver's bench

"Marvelous," deadpanned Sonja as she stepped alongside Walker. "When you order the room, can you order a bath. I would like to repeat last time."

Joshua smiled, "So would I," he said before Sonja climbed up onto the stagecoach's driving position.

When she did, West Dickens abruptly shouted, "I'm finished! Done for!" as he sprawled out, slumping against Sonja.

The Hyrkanian, unamused, gave him a none to gentle shove back into an upright position. "Just sit up straight," she snarled as she took the reins in hand and gave them a flick, urging the horses to motion.

Walker watched the wagon get moving as he went to collect the bandit's stolen cash and a way to identify them, wondering if West Dickens would survive and, if he didn't, would it be due to his existing wounds or a new one Sonja would inflict on him during the drive back?

Closing Notes: Setting up more pieces here, including one of my favorites in West Dickens. Writing Sonja's interactions with him should be a good bit of fun and I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I will enjoy writing it.

Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.