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

Who's seen that teaser for Godzilla: Minus One? Because it looks, and sounds, superb.

ian12091995: Glad you approve. Hope you continue to enjoy.

I got a PM talking about the story before this and its structure, and to those who might be wondering, this story will not have the same cadence as Once Upon A Time In Hyboria. The first arc is quite substantial, and will have a supporting cast that will stick around long term, in addition to our main duo. It's time to get to know one of those characters a good bit better.

She-Devil of the Frontier

Chapter 4: She Rides Wild Horses

Now dressed, Walker leaned down to plant a chaste kiss on Sonja's cheek, the woman still sound asleep in the bed they had shared the night before. While he was loathe to leave her, the curve of her hip under the sheet as alluring as any siren's call, he had business to attend to before they returned to MacLaughlin's ranch. Striding silently across the room and plucking his hat off the rack, Walker set it on his head before he opened the door and slipped out without disturbing Red Sonja.

Even as the first hints of the sun were just peeking over the horizon, Deming was slowly starting to wake up as Walker strode through it until he arrived at the doctor's office and entered the building. The man who was inside had the look of a doctor, balding and bespectacled, with a bloody apron and a tiredness on his face, brought on, no doubt, by a lack of sleep. "I'm here to see your patient, Doc," informed the Bounty Hunter. When the physician shook his head and opened his mouth, Walker cut him off, "Tell him Joshua Walker is here to see him."

The doctor stared at the gunfighter for a long moment, but Walker held his gaze until the tired physician relented and returned to the back room, waving Joshua in a moment later. Closing the door behind him, Walker was alone with West Dickens, the older man tucked into a bed, his one black eye still swollen as he looked at the Bounty Hunter. "Ah, my savior, thank you sir, thank you again," he greeted groggily. "You… you're a gentleman and a… true man of honor," he managed between winces.

"Coming from you, I doubt that means much," drawled Walker as he crossed his arms and leaned back on the doorframe. "But I do appreciate the civility."

West Dickens was undeterred by the jibe, "I owe you sir, and I always pay my debts!" he assured with some of his enthusiasm returning, only to hiss loudly as he slumped back into the mattress. "If I die, I'm sorry for it, but if not, I'll be your man, for… for…."

"That's good to hear, 'cause I already know how you'll settle your debt," intoned Walker lowly. Taking a step towards the bed, the Bounty Hunter sat in a chair alongside the elderly salesman and leaned towards him. "When the time is right, you're going to ride with Sonja and I out to Fort Cassidy and help us kill Shane Simon." Seeing the look of shock on the man's face assured Walker that the message had been received, and so he stood up. Once at his full height, he looked down at West Dickens, "So while you're laying in that there bed, on my dime, you'd best come up with how you're going to do that. I'm sure a conniving old bastard like you can think of something. Good day."

With those parting words and a tip of his hat, Walker turned on his heel and left the man to the conundrum the Bounty Hunter had given him. Stepping back to the front reception area and finding the doctor waiting for him, Walker reached into his pocket and extracted a twenty dollar note. "I want you to take good care of that man," said the Bounty Hunter, passing the note to the doctor, "I'll be back tomorrow to check on 'im, so make sure to keep him until then."

Nodding solemnly, the general practitioner took the money, "His wounds were ugly, but not that serious. He should pull through without trouble, even for someone of his age, but I'll be sure to keep an eye on him for another day."

"See that you do," drawled Walker before he departed, hoping he might get back before Sonja noticed his absence.

Sonja could not fathom why people chose to travel by stagecoach. After what she knew was a short ride, the incessant creaking and rattling and bouncing inside the cramped cabin was driving the Hyrkanian mad. Finally, mercifully, the wagon began to slow, and Sonja saw the familiar buildings of the MacLaughlin ranch outside the window.

Before the stagecoach came to a total stop, Sonja had thrown the door opened and leapt from the carriage. She found that there were a pair of hands waiting for her, and they grabbed Sonja's belongings while the Hyrkanian strode towards Walker, who leaned against a fence with one of his seemingly ever present cigarillos tucked between his lips. "Tell me that MacLaughlin has a horse that I can purchase, if not, then I will beg her myself."

The man removed and stamped out the tobacco, "She doesn't have one to sell, but there might still be a solution, come on," he beckoned, leading her back to the main farmhouse.

Sonja followed before asking the question most on her mind, "Where did you go this morning?"

The Bounty Hunter chortled lowly, "Shoulda' known you'd notice, sorry to sneak but I didn't wanna wake you. I just wanted to check in on Mr. West Dickens, make sure you didn't kill him on the way back," he drawled. "And I let him know that he's gonna be helping us with Fort Cassidy."

Now it was the Hyrkanian's turn to laugh, and she made no effort to contain it, "The man is of no use, his willingness to help or not is of no consequence."

"We'll see about that," replied Walker. The pair arrived at the MacLaughlin house and ambled up to the door, the Bounty Hunter giving it a firm knock.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal the smiling face of Caroline, "Ah, Ms. Sonja, Mr. Walker, good to see you two again," she greeted. "Come in, come in," she beckoned, ushering them both into her abode. "I don't believe y'all've met my father," she said as she led them to a small sitting room, where an old, but solidly built man stood at a speed that was a tell of his years. His bushy mustache and greying hair didn't stand out more than his discerning eyes that swept over the newcomers. "This is John MacLaughlin."

The MacLaughlin patriarch took a few measured, heavy steps forward, and up close his bullish build was more apparent, especially in comparison to the lanky Walker, to whom he offered his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walker," greeted the old man as he shook Joshua's hand before turning to the Hyrkanian and offering his meaty paw to her. Sonja shook, unsurprised at his strength as she looked up to meet his gaze. His face bore a flicker of shock at her grip as he gave her an appraising look, the same that so many other townsfolk had, in her land as well as this one. When he finally relinquished her hand, John stepped back and gestured to the couch, "Please," he offered.

The pair took the offered seat while John MacLaughlin did the same, with the elderly gentleman speaking first. "My daughter informs me you two are staying with us while y'all remove some undesirables from the county."

Caroline returned, offering both her guests surprisingly fine saucers and cups filled with what smelled like tea befitting a prince. Sonja, curious, took a cautious sip while Walker answered. "Something like that," he said as the Hyrkanian was surprised to find the tea tasted as good as it smelled and eagerly took a second sip. Walker held the small cup with surprising ease, drinking from it before adding, "We're grateful for the hospitality, sir."

John nodded, his gaze becoming distant as he spoke, "Ah ya know, we've lived here thirty years now. Came here from the East. The land had never been settled. For ten years, we fought the Indians. Tough men," he said with respect. Sonja leaned in closer, enamored, and wondered if these Indians were the Comanche that Walker sometimes spoke of. The elder MacLaughlin continued, "Then we had outlaws, and we had drought, and we had small pox, terrible winters, cholera. I've buried more of my children then I've raised."

That last admission caused Sonja's eyes to snap open as she looked at John and then Caroline. The jovial woman who always had a smile on her face and kind word on her lips looked solemn, and Sonja knew her father's words were true. It was a hard realization, that this land, despite all its marvels, was as harsh as the Hyborian frontier, and these 'Americans' were not soft people, not if John MacLaughlin was anything to go by. "You have my sympathies, John MacLaughlin," interjected Sonja. "And my respect."

The patriarch hummed at her words, "I've seen strong men, and strong women, wither and die under that unforgiving sun. That whole herds of cattle take sick and die. But, I've never once doubted my life here."

Walker set his glass down, "No sir," returned the Bounty Hunter.

Standing, John said, "When I hear about these two… strangers," before starting to pace about the room. "Arriving to murder people, I start to worry," he declared, turning back to face the pair. "I mean, alright, Simon is a menace and men like him are the plague. But how do I know you two aren't a worse menace?"

Sonja's temper flared and she was ready to leap from her seat in defense of herself and Walker, only for the Bounty Hunter to reach out and place a calming hand on her shoulder. Feeling her fury fade and pulse slow, Sonja leaned back on the couch, fully expecting Walker to act as she would have, but the man, as he was oft to do, surprised her. He did not speak with anger, or bluster, but his calm sincerity. "You may be right, sir," began the Bounty Hunter, "But you also may not. Sonja here, she lost her whole family to men like Shane Simon. Her manner of dress, despite what you may think, is for fighting."

"If they are looking at me, they are not looking at my sword," added Sonja coolly, her hand going down to the handle of the blade on her hip.

"As ludicrous as that sounds to you and me, I've seen her in action, and it does work," testified Walker. Taking a sip of tea and a deep breath, he continued. "Me? I worked up in the northern part of the territory for four years, though that was some time ago. They called me Tombstone. I've killed a lot of men, even had to kill a woman or two, and I will kill more, as long as there are men that need killing." Walker paused, he eyes sweeping from Caroline to John, seeing if either of them would speak, but none did, and so he continued. "You've seen tough men, bad men, of that I have no doubt sir, but me? Or Sonja? I promise you sir, we've seen worse. Vicious, violent men, barely more than animals some of them. As long as there are men like that out there, people like us will ride out there and stop them. That, really, is all there is to it."

A heavy pause hung in the room, and this time it was John MacLaughlin who broke it. "You're both brave people," he said, setting his cup and saucer on the table. "And y'all're always going to be welcome here, but remember that we aren't all like that. We don't go picking fights with anyone we don't like, or who has a price on their heads, and we don't dress like that," he said, a pointed look in the Hyrkanian's direction as he sat down before adding, "It's preposterous."

"Trust me sir," returned Walker, voice barely above a whisper, "I agree with you."

"Good… good," returned MacLaughlin, seeming as surprised as Sonja was at the response. Blinking once, the man placed his hands on his knees and stood again, "Well, we won't insult you any further. We have things to do. Sonja, is it? I believe you need a new horse."

"That is true, John MacLaughlin," affirmed the Hyrkanian, setting her own empty cup on the table before standing, with Walker and Caroline doing the same.

"Well come on, we'll get you sorted," he said, heading for the door.

Caroline must've seen the confusion on Sonja's face, the blonde woman said, "It's daddy's favorite pastime, other than entertaining guests, that is," she quipped.

"What is this?" Sonja asked, still confused.

"Breaking in horses," answered the elder MacLaughlin from the door, the man putting on a hat like Walkers. "I hear you're a pretty decent rider. For a foreigner that is."

The trio of horses thundered along the road, only veering off when Caroline spotted a pack of wild horses, and John and Joshua steered their animals to follow. Without a horse of her own, Sonja was seated behind Walker, her arms wrapped around him, breasts pressed against his back, hanging on as Shelby, at full gallop, bolted across the countryside. The wild animals finally took note of the group's approach and tried to flee, but were quickly run down as Caroline and Joshua reached for their lassos and twirled the ropes. With a deft toss, the female rancher's rope slipped around the neck of a brown splotched animal and Walker's followed suit, pulling back on the reins to slow Shelby down while tightening his grip on the rope, forcing the ensnared animal to come to a stop despite its fighting against the lassos.

"Hold her steady," barked Walker as he passed the rope to Sonja, who wrapped it around her hand while the Bounty Hunter slid off the saddle. Rushing to the lassoed horse, Walker jumped up and hauled himself astride the animal, clinging onto its mane as the horse picked its front legs up in an attempt to shake its unwanted rider. But Walker stayed calm and leaned back, balancing perilously as the horse bucked and circled furiously, furious enough to yank the ropes out of the hands of the two women.

Now on his own, Walker struggled against the strength of the wild horse while it kicked, throwing him from side to side, but never quite managing to get the Bounty Hunter off its back. Just as Walker began to tire and felt his grip wane, the horse's bucking started to subside, both in pace and intensity, and the realization that he was on the verge of victory instilled a second wind in the Bounty Hunter to outlast the animal. When the horse finally ceased its struggle, Walker finally gulped down some deep breaths, wincing at how sore his ass was as he shifted in a vain attempt to relieve the pain he felt. "Nicely done boy!" shouted Mr. MacLaughlin, the older man riding up on his own animal and tossing a lasso around the tamed horse's neck. "Let me take it from here, that was enough excitement for an old timer like me. I'll take this one back to the ranch. See y'all later!" called John while Walker dropped off the horse and returned to Shelby.

While the elder MacLaughlin rode back to the ranch, one of his hands rode up to Caroline and spoke with the woman. Walker's attention was pulled away from them when Sonja called out, "Most impressive, Joshua Walker." The praise drew a phantom smile from his lips as he picked one foot up and slid it into the stirrup. Accepting a hand from the Hyrkanian, he felt her strength as she hauled him up into the saddle, "Your horses have spirit, to see them roam freely like this, it reminds me of Hyrkania, of my home."

Taking the reins of his horse, Walker looked back to the redhead, "See one you like?"

He could see the look in Sonja's eye as she watched the remaining horses regroup and flee over the next hill, "They are all fine horses, but…."

"Hey, quit jabbering on over there!" called out Caroline, waving them over. "Amos found another bunch up the way. Come on, we could really use those horses!"

"Maybe one of 'em will strike your fancy, Calamity Dame. Let's go boy, Hiya!" barked Walker as he wheeled the horse around and urged Shelby forwards, chasing after Caroline and the ranch hand. Putting the spurs to the flanks of his horse, Walker soon had Shelby up to a full gallop as they raced eastwards.

After a few minutes of hard riding, the group came across a number of MacLaughlin ranch hands on horseback, to which Caroline rode to and spoke with one of them. They exchanged words and then a portion of the hands tore off while Caroline addressed those that remained. "Listen up fellas, they're going to go around and set up in that there canyon, and we're going to drive that group of horses into them and get the whole lot of 'em. Okay? Alright then, get ready, we'll give those boys a few minutes to get set up and then we'll get moving."

While most of the hands gathered together, Caroline made her way towards Sonja and Walker, pulling her horse alongside. "I 'preciate the help on this, it may not look it, but we're shorta hands for this kind of thing, hence why we gotta get creative. Still, we pull this off and I promise you, Sonja gets first pick of the horses."

"I appreciate your consideration, Caroline MacLaughlin. I will not squander your gesture of kindness," replied Sonja, sincerity in her voice as she shifted behind Walker on the saddle. The Bounty Hunter knew that the Hyrkanain was a self-reliant sort, but she was certainly keeping her head held high. And once the rancher had ridden off, Walker took a second to reach a hand back and offer a reassuring squeeze to her muscular thigh, which was returned with the Hyrkanian wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

After minutes passed, Caroline let out a long whistle to signal the remaining riders to rush forward, spreading out as they trotted forwards toward the pack of wild horses that was blissfully grazing in the field ahead. As the oncoming ranch hands drew closer, the wild animals sensed their approach and looked up, ears perked before all the riders put the spurs to their mounts, coaxing them to a full gallop as their quarry began to flee. Walker simply fell in with the other hands as they corralled the horses first up against the cliff face before shepherding it along the rock wall until they came upon a gap. The wild animals, seeking an escape, veered into the canyon and thundered down the path, right into the trap waiting for them around the first bend.

With a salvo of neighs and whinnies, the band of wild horses came to a sudden, rearing halt, trying to circle back and escape, only to be faced with Walker, Caroline, and the other hands coming up behind them. "Looks like we got the lot of them!" exclaimed MacLaughlin happily, "What magnificent animals they are."

As lassos came out and started ensnaring the horses, most didn't put up resistance, but one did, rearing back and then launching itself forward, through a gap and deeper into the canyon pass. "That stallion's gettin' away!" hollered Caroline, but Walker had already jammed his spurs into Shelby's flanks, and his faithful companion answered instantly, bolting forward in pursuit. Riding hard through the canyon, weaving around the bends and then up the slope at the far end as he closed in with the fleeing stallion. Looking back, Walker saw Caroline trailing behind him, the rancher gaining on him as they both charged after the escaped horse, drawing their lassos to try and ensnare the stallion.

Walker, less sure of his aim with the rope than his pistols, hesitated for a moment, but Caroline did not, making a deft toss to loop the lasso around the neck of the stallion, even as the animal moved at a gallop. Letting out a loud cry, the stallion slowed, turning to run from Caroline, but only allowing Walker to easily loop his own lasso around the creature's neck. The horse thrashed and struggled against the restraints, Walker clinging on tight as he fought the wild horse. "Sonja, can you…" he began, only to see the Hyrkanian slide off Shelby and edge towards the bucking bronco.

The horse rounded on her as she shuffled closer, picking up its front legs and lashing out at the Hyrkanian, "Watch out Sonja!" yelled Caroline. The She-Devil, unphased, merely rolled aside, standing back up and holding her hands out.

"Peace, be still," commanded Sonja, her voice soft, caring, but still firm, "I mean no harm to you, and will treat you as well as you treat me." Incredibly, the stallion seemed to heed her words, struggling less against the ropes. Sonja pressed closer, her steps were short, but confident as she spoke in that same voice, "Cease your struggles, all will be well my friend." Incredibly, the stallion allowed Sonja to approach close enough that the Hyrkanian was able to reach out and rub the nose of the creature before scratching its neck until her hands came to the lassos, "Let me get these off you."

"Sonja, wait…" began Caroline as the Hyrkanian removed the ropes from around the horse, but despite every one of Walker's expectations, the stallion did not bolt. Instead, the creature lowered its head and allowed Sonja to grab a hold of its mane, pulling herself up and sitting astride the golden pearl horse like it had always been hers. "Well I'll be damned, I don't think I've ever seen something like that," declared MacLaughlin.

Walker couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief, despite the smirk on his face as he wound up and stowed his lasso. "You're just fulla surprises, ain't ya Calamity Dame?" drawled the Bounty Hunter, only for Sonja to beam proudly from atop her new mount.

When the trio, now all on their own horses, gathered together, Walker saw the other hands guiding the rest of the wild horses out of the canyon. "Thank you both for your help today, we got some fine horses. Why don't you just keep that stallion, Sonja, he seems to have taken a likin' to ya."

"Thank you, Caroline MacLaughlin, he is a fine animal," replied Sonja, more focused on the stroke she was giving to the shoulder of the horse. "We will get along well."

The following morning, Sonja inspected the horseshoes that had been nailed to the hooves of her new mount, which one of the hands had called a 'Kentucky Saddler,' and found the craftsmanship, as was common in America, to be superb. "I hope you're happy with them," came an unexpected voice, and Sonja whipped around to see a smirking Caroline leaning against the barn beside which Sonja was conducting her inspection.

"Your men do fine work, you should be proud," complimented Sonja honestly before striding to the crate where her equipment was arranged. Picking up the first part of her saddle, Sonja tossed it across her horse's back and spoke candidly. "You have a good life here. It reminds me of… the one I once thought I would have."

"That so? You didn't always want to be a scantly clad, sword swinging adventuress?" returned Caroline wryly, but the genuine surprise crept into her drawl. "Forgive me, I just have trouble seeing you living the quiet life."

Sonja couldn't quell the laugh that welled up in her chest as she continued to saddle her horse. "I suppose you would. The farm I was raised on feels… so far away now," she admitted. "But I remember those days fondly. Being here, it has brought those memories back."

"We don't have a lot," admitted Caroline morosely.

"You have enough," returned Sonja, not wanting to inadvertently insult this woman. "It is wanting that gets many into trouble."

Caroline nodded understandingly, "It'll sap your spirit and make you poor," she said, not sadly, but with pride. "But it's straight, and it's decent."

Placing the Hyrkanian style saddle across the back of her new horse, Sonja was reminded of something her father often said. "There is no better nights sleep than after an honest days work," she quoted from memory.

"Is that why you look so tired then? " quipped MacLaughlin, and Sonja couldn't help but feel the heat of a blush spread across her body. "Or is a certain bounty hunter to blame?"

Coughing, Sonja refused to answer, instead focusing on securing her saddle to the stallion. "What of you? Do you not have one you hold dear?"

Caroline clammed up, "You ask a lot," she said tersely, crossing her arms.

"I am surprised, in my land you would have had many men seeking your hand," admitted Sonja truthfully, unfurling the stirrups and making sure they were at the proper height.

"The fact that you're speaking in the past, says it all," drawled Caroline with a bite of sarcasm.

"No!" exclaimed Sonja, "That is not what I mean. You would have many suitors, and I cannot imagine the men of this land are much different in that respect."

"Some I suppose… here and there," admitted MacLaughlin, "A ranch in Hennigan's Stead ain't really the place to find a husband… Amos, he's a little… well, you know, countrified."

The last word she said brought an amused smile to Sonja's face as she was doing up the leather straps of her saddle, "I have met princesses and countesses who lack your airs and graces, Caroline MacLaughlin. How did you get them?"

"A couple o' cheap governesses Pa hired to save us from being savages," answered the rancher sarcastically. "I'd like to talk about more than just cattle and chickens sometimes, that's all. And, after my brother left, it fell to me to become the man of the ranch. He'd never admit it, but Pa is a lot frailer than he looks."

"You are worth twice that of many men I have met in my travels," complimented Sonja as she checked that the equipment on her saddle was secure. "It may not be your profession, but you have a warrior's spirit."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment, Sonja," returned Caroline wryly, "But I saw you fight, that night before I hired you. Taking on three hardened men on your lonesome? If I'm worth two, then you must be worth five, fighting like you have the devil on your shoulder. I have a hard time reconciling, well, everything about you, that's all."

"Yes, I understand how you must feel," replied Sonja, now turning to face Caroline since her task was complete. Seeing that the rancher had raised an eyebrow, "When I first met Joshua Walker, nothing about him made sense, as he is so unlike the men of my land. In dress, in demeanor, in every respect really. It took much time and effort for us to come to an understanding, though there are times where it is still a struggle."

"He seems like a good man, all things considered, but tell me, you must have had no shortage of suitors yourself, so why him?" asked Caroline, turning Sonja's question back at her.

"The man proved himself to me in a way no other has," was the Hyrkanian's answer, able to sense that her vows would not be understood in this land, not if Walker's reaction to them was anything to go by. "An example. In our travels, we found a young girl, left behind after bandits had raided her home and slew her family. Walker not only aided me in giving the girl the revenge she desired, but counseled her in her grief, and did something I did not have the strength to do: encourage peace. He is a violent man, yet he acts the peacemaker."

Caroline nodded, silent at first, and then hummed, "I see, I'm glad to have you both here, and thank you for speaking with me. I know it must be hard, being so far from home. But, if you don't mind, I have another question about Walker: Has he always been such an enigmatic son of a bitch?"

Sonja tried but could not fail to suppress the genuine laugh that bubbled up out of her. "It is one of his more… trying qualities," admitted the Hyrkanian.

"'Trying qualities,' she says," parroted Caroline, "Must be trying to drive me up a wall."

A low chuckle caused both women to turn and see the Bounty Hunter, the corner of his lips quirked up in a smile. "Some deck must be shy a joker, Ms. MacLaughlin," he drawled, "And don't worry, I ain't trying, it just comes naturally." Caroline rolled her eyes as Walker turned to Sonja and said, "You about ready to go for a ride, Calamity Dame? It's about time we properly meet our new friend."

Striding down the main street of Deming with Sonja at his side, Walker saw the door of the doctors office open and the rounded form of West-Dickens emerge and turn back into the office, shouting, "And I can tell you, with no uncertainty, that miracle cures are no laughing matter! I bid you, good day sir!"

As the elderly salesman slammed the door shut, Walker couldn't help but chuckle, prompting West-Dickens to turn around. His face flashed in a flurry of emotions, eyes widening before being joined by his smile doing the same. "Ah, Mr. Walker, so good to see you, and your lovely companion of course, again. How have you been keeping?"

"We," emphasized Walker as he ushered Sonja to stand beside him, "Are well. How are your wounds?"

"Oh! Much, much better," assured West Dickens, "But then, they would be."

"Would be?" intoned a skeptic Red Sonja, hand placed on her hip.

"I know a cure for all ailments, miss!" he proclaimed, hands tugging on the lapels of his coat as he flashed his most innocent smile.

Understanding flashed across the Hyrkanian's face, "Ah, I'm sure you do," she said.

"And for just two dollars an ounce," drawled Walker as he glared at the old man, "We could live forever."

"Oh, but for you two, I'd do a bulk discount of a dollar ninety-five an ounce, as long as you buy one hundred ounces or more!" His smile widened, "That's a lot of immortality!"

A dismissive noise emanated from Sonja as the woman shook her head, but Walker's expression remained impassive as he fixed West Dickens with a hard glare. "Give it up, old man," he instructed.

The salesman puffed up, "That's Mr. West Dickens to you, boy!" he blustered back.

Unafraid, Walker took a defiant step forward, "Give it up, old man," growled the Bounty Hunter, looming over the charlatan. Deflating, West Dickens took a step back, wringing his hands together. "I gave you a task, do you have anything to share on that?" asked Walker.

"I have been thinking about your predicament, and I have an idea. I've been thinking I could be your cunning Odysseus!" revealed West Dickens, sounding way too pleased with himself to Walker's ear.

"Who is Odysseus?" inquired Sonja, eyebrows furrowed.

"An ancient hero, from Greece," replied Walker, "If I remember my lessons, he tried to take a fortress city, Troy, but his army was defeated so he built a wooden horse as tribute and hid his men inside. When the defenders moved the horse into the city, the Greek soldiers burst out and ransacked the city, winning the day."

"Quite the tale…" murmured the Hyrkanian.

"Beware the Greeks, bearing gifts, Miss!" cautioned West Dickens before turning back to Walker, "Simon had better beware, we will make them into Trojans. You're well read, dear boy," he complimented.

Stroking his chin, Walker gave the proposal some thought before finally asking, "Where's our horse?"

Clearing his throat, West Dickens took a step back and gestured grandly to his stagecoach, parked in the alleyway beside the doctor's office. Sonja crossed her arms, an unimpressed look on her visage. "How does that help us?" she asked.

West Dickens, seemingly unfazed, reverted to being a salesman, "As it is, it cannot, but with a bit of work? Think of the possibilities! Panels that fold down on the sides, armor plating to ward off any incoming bullets, maybe even fitting some additional firepower! All concealed within this recognizable, unassuming exterior."

As much as Walker hated admitting it to himself, it wasn't a bad plan, and looking to Sonja, he could see that she had no immediate objections. Despite being impressed, the cynical side of the Bounty Hunter shaped his first response, "What's the catch?"

"Before we can tend to your problems, we need some extra lubricant to oil the machinery of business. And this being America, that lubricant with which we concern ourselves, is money," explained West Dickens, his hands wringing together once more.

Now it was Walker's turn to cross his arms, "How much money, do you think?" pressed the Gunslinger.

"Three thousand dollars," murmured West Dickens. "The problem is… I'm broke," he admitted before opening the door of the stagecoach and extracting one of the tin bottles with ornate script on the label proclaiming it as 'West Dickens Elixir.' "But this stuff is good," he insisted, "A healthy young man and woman like yourselves would be a great help in showing potential costumers the value of my Elixir. Come along," he beckoned, shuffling back towards his stagecoach, "Let's ride to my newest customers at Ridgewood."

Despite seeing the pensive look on Sonja's face, Walker took the first step forward to join West Dickens on the bench of his stagecoach.

A part of Sonja wanted, desperately, to voice the objections that were quickly taking form in her mind as she watched the two men go towards the wagon. To her, this 'Odysseus' was no hero, but a yellow-bellied coward that had only won the day through trickery. Sonja had used deception and distraction before, sneaking into hostile strongholds many a time, but one who had ceded the field and offered a false gift? Such a notion was hateful to the Hyrkanian.

Her estimation of this West Dickens fellow was not much better. Merchants were only as good as their wares, to her mind, and judging by the contempt radiating off Walker and the manner in which he spoke of this Elixir, the product had the value of pig shit. It seemed that, despite the slew of marvels to be found in America, 'Miracle Cures' here were much the same as in Hyboria. She did not trust the man, and vowed to keep a keen eye on him should he show the slightest inclination towards reneging on his word.

Following Walker, Sonja pulled herself up onto the bench seat to find it cramped with the two men already seated and so sat on Walker's lap. Once all were settled, the old man flicked the reins, spurring the train of horses into action as the stagecoach trundled through the town and out into the open country. Under the rising sun, Sonja could feel the heat sting her skin, and she understood the penchant for long coats and trousers these Americans had.

"I have been wondering about you, miss," began the old man after some time, prompting Sonja to turn and face West Dickens.

Despite feeling the squeeze of Joshua's arms around her waist warning her to stay calm, she could not let this man, of all men, insult her. "I know all I need to of you," she bit back. "Your ilk, you are all the same, deceiving the weak and gullible for your own gain," hissed the Hyrkanian.

"It is you who is gullible, my dear, for heeding such ill-informed scuttlebutt!" retorted West Dickens.

The manner in which this man spoke grew tiresome, like the heralds and princes who clattered on, too pleased with the sound of their own voice. "You are as full of wind as a horse with the colic!" snapped Sonja.

West Dickens recoiled, but did not shrink from her hostility. "I have been blessed with the gift of language – and, for that, I will not apologize – but the West Dickens Elixirs speak for themselves! If my tonic is such a sham, how do you explain the fine fettle in which you find me? Last time you saw me, I was knocking on death's door."

"I have sustained greater wounds from far lesser men," dismissed Sonja. "You merely put up an act rather than wear your scars with pride, as a man should."

Her insult did not have much effect on West Dickens, "Act I can, my dear. A more convincing Othello there has never been!" he boasted. Sonja was unimpressed. "Showmanship my dear, the flourish, the bow! We operate in a competitive marketplace. My product must stand out!"

"How exactly do we help with that?" Walker grunted, the Bounty Hunter finally breaking his silence.

"We're going to use your god given talents, and her god given beauty, to our advantage," answered West Dickens. Sonja rolled her eyes, unsurprised that this man would not seek to use any of talents she had cultivated and sought to use her only for her appearance. Before she could state her objections, the sight of smoke and buildings in the distance caused West Dickens to slow the stagecoach and speak to Walker. "I'll ask you to get off here, my dear boy. This way it won't look like you're with us. Once I'm set up, saunter nonchalantly into the crowd that is sure to be forming. Eventually, I will call you up to try my tonic. After extolling the virtues, I will have you preform a few small feats of wonder to amaze and impress the paying public."

Judging from his tone, Walker was less than amused, "Like what?"

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary for a man in your line of work, I assure you," assuaged West Dickens evasively.

"So it is all a sham!" snapped Sonja.

The charlatan was quick to counter, "No, no. Just a little innocent ballyhoo to grease the wheels of enterprise, that's all."

Hearing the man grumble under his breath, Sonja slid off him to allow Walker to get up and descend from the bench, returning the smile the Hyrkanian offered him before he began walking across the desert towards the collection of buildings. Once he was on his way, West Dickens flicked the reins and got the horses back on the move, albeit at a more leisurely pace. On the last leg towards their destination, West Dickens decided to impart some of his… wisdom, to her. "Now my dear, I understand you may not care for me, but I'm risking my skin for you!" he reminded.

"Yes," she agreed, fixing him with a cold glare, "You risk your skin the more you try my patience, charlatan. I have traveled farther than you have ever claimed to, I understand what I am expected to do, but you would do well not ask of me anything that will incite my wrath afterwards." The man finally showed some good sense and fell silent for the last few minutes while they drove to the center of what was a small 'boomtown' just beyond the railway workcamp Sonja could see, comprised of little more than a saloon, brothel, and general store.

As soon as the stagecoach came to a halt in a piece of flat open ground, they both descended to find Sonja was drawing the crowd that West Dickens craved.

With the small portable table setup and a small selection of his wares on display, West Dickens felt his nerves start to fray. Not due to the above average crowd that had gathered, nor due to the fact that there were more women in amongst the men than usual, but rather because of the person who held their attention, this foreign woman, Sonja.

There was no denying her beauty, which she flaunted in her skimpy attire, but West Dickens remembered seeing what she had done to the rapscallions that had taken him hostage. Her fury was not something with which he wished to contend, and so he made sure to not stare at her during his whole setup, while also being nervous that any of the onlookers might incite her wrath. If that happened, West Dickens decided, then he would hide in his stagecoach as soon as she pulled out her sword.

It was almost a relief when he spied the stoic, imposing form of the bounty hunter, Joshua Walker, amble in amongst the crowd, a lit cigarillo dangling from his lips. Flexing his fingers and clearing his throat, Nigel calmed his nerves and addressed the crowd, "Friends! Hard working souls of Cholla Springs!" he cried, causing the murmurings in the crowd to fall silent as eyes swung towards him. "Gather round, gather round," he beckoned, waving his arms animatedly, "Do you suffer from Rheumatism? Lumbago? Acute, chronic, sciatic, neurologic, or inflammatory pain?" he asked with all the confidence he had, despite not really knowing what any of those words meant.

Neither, it seemed, did anybody in the audience, these were all… simple people, none would be mistaken as commonly partaking in the dalliances of those of a higher class. That suited West Dickens just fine, and seeing the questioning looks and hints of curiosity on their faces, Nigel pressed on with his pitch. "Well, I represent the company that makes the GENUINE ARTICLE," he declared proudly, "That cures headaches, neuralgia, earache, toothache, backache, swellings, sprains, sore chest, swellings of the throat, contracted chords and muscles, anxieties and frayed nerves, stiff joints, wrenches, dislocations, cuts, and bruises!"

Each ailment he rattled off caused more and more men to show an interest, but not content with extracting anything less than every possible cent from the crowd, he cleared his throat and sought to garner the attention of the women as well. "Ladies, ladies, you too can benefit greatly! You can be free of the wide range of ailments I've already listed, but there are many benefits unique to you! Look at this fine example of femininity here! You too can have the same radiant beauty and womanly charms she exhibits! Your skin clearer, hair fuller, eyes brighter!" he declared, satisfied that he now had the undivided attention of the whole crowd. Just to sweeten the pot, West Dickens added, "And consider buying for your husbands, as this elixir can add to the vitality and vigor of any man."

"Prove it, old man!" challenged and intrepid member of the crowd.

West Dickens replied with a genuine smile, "Oh I'm sure there's some customer here who could prove the qualities of it by taking a drink right now!" Making doubly sure that the man he thought was his ally was indeed the Bounty Hunter, Nigel singled him out. "You sir! Come up here. Step right up!" he beckoned.

The stoic gunfighter actually flinched at being called out, but gamely ambled forwards, gently pushing his way through the crowd until he arrived at West Dickens' table. "That's the spirit!" encouraged the Salesman, snatching up one of the tonic bottles and moving to meet Walker while addressing the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, pay close attention. This poor, wretched volunteer, entirely unbeknownst to me," he declared as he shoved the bottle into Walker's unwilling hands, "Will demonstrate the effects of Dr. West Dickens' Own Patent Tonic."

Walker gave a quick glare to West Dickens that sent a shiver down the old man's spine, but yanked the cork out and took a drink. "Be you cowpoke or athlete, this miraculous elixir..." extolled West Dickens, only to be cut off by the strained cough that burst from Walker. All eyes swung towards the Bounty Hunter, who spit out a dribble of the tonic, but had the same, tense expression on his face. Nigel quickly filled in the silence, "This elixir, developed with the wisdom of the East," he proclaimed, taking the bottle from Walker, "Keeps the muscles supple and relaxes the chords. It loosens the joints and gives a feeling of youth and vigor to the whole system. Not possible, I hear you say. Well, doubt no longer. Faith can move mountains, but I ask not for faith, I am a man of science! And today, science will be vindicated."

The boast allowed him to usher Walker through the crowd to the far edge, and the salesman scanned for a suitable target for their demonstration. "Your eyesight is greatly improved, is that not so, friend?" inquired Nigel.

"Seems different," replied Walker evenly.

Instead of trying to scrutinize the man, or giving the crowd a chance to do so, "That's right, it is! You heard him!" declared West Dickens. Giving the bounty hunter a none too gentle pat on the back, Nigel said, "What a good sport you are sir," playing it up for the crowd. "Now, gaze over yonder at that porch. If you squint, you might just be able to make out the skull that's hanging there."

The crowd gathered around to see where Nigel was pointing, and the salesman really hoped he hadn't overestimated the man's shooting skills as he gave him a pat on the shoulder, "Go ahead friend. Shoot that skull and demonstrate the miraculous eyesight you now possess." Walker drew his pistol, but the action was slow, measured, at least to West Dickens' untrained eye. After thumbing the hammer back, the gunslinger took careful aim, as if he was really straining to line up the shot before the gun barked and the skull fell from its perch. "Remarkable!" exclaimed Nigel, throwing his arms up enthusiastically, "The eyesight of an eagle! Granted by imbibing Dr. West Dickens' Own Patent Tonic."

Most of the crowd gave modest cheers, but Nigel smiled, knowing the ruse had swung them into his favor and he could almost feel the weight of their money in his hands. However, not everybody was so keen to part with their cash. "Anybody could make that shot!" protested a booming, rough voice that came from an equally rough looking man. Scarred face partly covered by a thick pair of mutton chops, suspenders holding up a pair of scuffed trousers, and a worn leather gunbelt around his waist, one of the mans thick arms came up and pointed at Nigel accusingly, "This man is a fraud!" The arm then swung towards an unamused Walker, "If you're eye is so damn sharp, why don't you try shooting my hat out of the air?"

West Dickens couldn't help the gleam in his eye at what a fortuitous turn of events this was, assuming Joshua could make the shot. "My friends! Our test case has been challenged to shoot a gentleman's hat out of the sky above our heads!" proclaimed Nigel.

The challenger removed the big black hat and took a few steps back, "You can fool these people, but you ain't foolin' me," he taunted as Walker drew his pistol once more, a distinct flicker of annoyance crossing the Bounty Hunter's stoic features. Removing the black hat and waving it for the benefit of Walker, the challenger taunted, "Right! Let's see how sharp you is with a moving target!"

With that, the black hat was tossed airborne, spinning 'round as Walker raised his pistol and drew a bead, the handgun firing and sending the hat flipping end over end and jerking back. There was a gasp in the audience as they realized the bullet had connected, only for Joshua to pull the hammer back and fire again, and then a third time, all with the same results as the first. When the hat finally returned to the ground, it was far from its owner and had three new thumb sized holes punched clean through it.

"Have you ever seen such an eye?" asked West Dickens as a round of cheers erupted from the crowd. "Behold the power of the elixir! Plucked out of the sky!"

Walker, radiating annoyance, flicked his pistol into a spin and slid it back into his holster, taking a step back into the crowd to cede the floor to West Dickens, and the old man was poised to continue his pitch when he received a rude interruption.

"What, you think you can put a hole in a man's hat and just walk away? Do ya?" snarled the now hatless challenger. "It don't work like that around here, mister!" he barked, but Walker kept slowly stepping away without doing so much as looking back. Being ignored so brazenly did little to quell the anger boiling from the man in suspenders. "Come on! Are you a man or not?"

West Dickens was about to interject when the big, burly brute of a man took long strides, weighted with intent as he cocked his arm back, fist balled. West Dickens found himself propped up by some of his prospective customers when he saw a scarlet embellished blur fly across his field of view and crash into the oncoming heckler. Reeling from the impact, the burly man staggered to a stop and squared up to the Amazonian Sonja looking as imposing as any man.

"If you would stoop to striking a man in such a cowardly fashion," stated the warrior woman evenly, her gloved hands coming up into raised fists, "Then surely you would strike a woman honorably."

West Dickens could see the rage flaring in the burly man's eyes as he rubbed his stomach, "A challenge of battle has been offered and accepted by Sonja! She shall demonstrate what sort of strength can be granted by Dr. Nigel West Dickens Patent Tonic!" shouted the salesman as he slunk away from the pair of fighters.

Snarling in rage, the man took a step forward, fist swinging around in a mighty hook that failed to connect. Sonja had ducked the blow and came up with a reply of her own, the foreign woman threw a powerful uppercut that crashed solidly in the man's chin, causing his head to snap back with a violence that startled West Dickens. Reeling from the blow, the man dropped his hands, allowing Sonja to throw another punch that slammed into the man's face, an audible crunch emanating from his now broken nose.

"Argh! Damnit!" cursed the man, voice muffled by the hands that nursed his battered face, blood trickling down his chin as he backed away from the scantily clad redhead. "I'll teach you a lesson for that!" growled the man before he lunged forwards, arms outstretched as he tried to grab hold of the smaller Sonja.

The woman had no interest in allowing herself to be grappled as she bounced back out of reach before spinning around and lashing out at the man with a devastating kick, causing West Dickens to wince as he heard the impact of her boot. Remarkably, the man remained standing, though his forward momentum had been brought to a complete halt, allowing Sonja to press her growing advantage. Leaping forwards, the woman grabbed one of the mans thick arms and stepped past him, turning to snake an arm around his throat while one of her long legs came up and snaked around his waist. In a move that surprised everyone watching, Sonja simply jumped up and her weight toppled the man over and slammed him into the ground, the impact sapping the last of his fight out of him while Sonja got to her feet and stood over the vanquished man, triumphant.

Raucous cheers broke out, with the crowd only seeing the incredible display Sonja had given them. West Dickens saw it too, but now he saw the money sure to be offered to him to emulate the abilities of this foreign woman. "There it is, skeptics and dissenters! Irrefutable proof!" proclaimed the tonic merchant. "Do not let this opportunity pass you by!" he said to urge people towards his table. Sonja helped in this as she turned and glared at all those who tried to approach her, driving them away from her and towards West Dickens.

Through the throng of people, the salesman could see the battered heckler get back to his feet and shout, "This ends now!"

To the shock of Nigel, the tonic merchant saw the heckler wrench his gun from the holster on his waist and raise it to point at Sonja. "Watch out! He's got a gun!" cried West Dickens as he scampered out of the crazed man's line of fire.

Before he could get fully clear, Nigel winced as a shot rang out and he feared he'd been shot as a chill went down his spine. Only when he finally coaxed his eyes back open, West Dickens saw the heckler grasping his hand, the gun that had just been in it laying on the ground. Twisting his head around, the old man saw Walker at the front of the crowd, smoke coming from the barrel of the revolver held in hand before he once again gave the gun a flick and slid it back into place.

Fear was replaced by joy for West Dickens, and not just because he was unharmed. "Marvelous shot, dear boy!" he called out, and soon others recognized Walker as the one who had demonstrated the tonic earlier. "That kind of deadly accuracy can only be afforded by the West Dickens Elixir! Come, I have plenty for all!"

It was a shame, Nigel considered, that he wouldn't be able to keep very much of this money for himself, but there was no chance he would cross either of the pair that he was indebted to. He still had a strong sense of self-preservation after all.

By the time the group returned to Deming, the sun was only just visible in the distance, and already other stars were starting to becoming visible in the darkening sky overhead. The day had been a tiring one, and Walker was thankful that it was nearing its end. West Dickens brought his stagecoach to a squeaking halt beside the saloon and said, "I think today went kind of well. What do you think?"

Sonja answered him, "I am glad I usually am after treasure or bandits, not the likes of yours, Nigel West Dickens."

The old man pouted. "My dear, don't be so quick to anger," he implored.

"If you will excuse me, I would like to go and get a drink," declared Sonja before sliding off her perch on Walker's lap and leaping down from the bench before making a beeline for the Saloon's swinging doors and barging inside.

The Bounty Hunter chuckled and, agreeing with the woman, tipped his hat and made to follow her when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. "Wait, sir, I've been thinking," began West Dickens. Genuinely curious, Walker came up short and turned to face the charlatan. "Thinking of ways of helping with your heroic quest and I have one, if I may be so bold. I want you to go see my friend, Seth," said the fraudster. "Sure, he may come off as a little curious," he hedged in such a way that Walker let out a low, hissing breath, "But I'm sure you two will get on with him splendidly. You can probably find him at Coot's Chapel, a half mile north of town. He's very devout."

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Joshua pondered this, wondering just who West Dickens was setting him up with. A clergyman of some description was his guess. Weather that was correct or not, there was still one question Walker had. "Why see him?" intoned the Gunslinger in his low drawl.

Seeing the gleam in the old man's eyes, Walker was reminded that under the exterior of the old bastard was a cunning fox. "Because between him and me, we should be able to get the gates of that fort open and effect your entrance, just like in Homer's great Trojan yarn!" he exclaimed.

Nodding, but not verbally answering, Joshua jumped down and trudged to the saloon, eager to leave West Dickens behind. Ambling inside, Walker looked about for his redheaded companion until he almost blundered into a corset wearing saloon girl. She was pretty enough, and she looked him over before smiling at him and purring, "Looking for a lady, mister?"

"I am, as a matter of fact," drawled Walker, "You might've seen her. Real tall, red hair, sword and a gun on her belt."

The woman's smile fell, "I know the one. She's waiting for you in room five."

"Much obliged," returned Walker, tipping his hat before heading up the stairs, finding the room and giving the door a knock.

When it opened, he was met with the lovely sight of Sonja, who ushered him in between taking swigs directly from the whiskey bottle she held. "I am glad that swindler did not occupy too much of your time, Joshua Walker," she said before passing him the alcohol. Walker took a drink while Sonja went on, "I understand how such a man can be of use to us… but those of his ilk… they are not to be trusted."

"Only as far as we can throw him," returned Walker dryly, passing the bottle back to Sonja and shucking off his coat, shaking out what dust he could before hanging it on the rack.

Sonja's brow furrowed, "Even with the strength of the goddess, I could not throw such a plump fellow very far." That response got a chuckle from Walker as he sat down on a stool and removed one boot, fixing Sonja with a deadpan expression. Her eyes widened, "Ah! What strange turns of phrase your people have," said the Hyrkanian while Walker removed his other boot. "And so too are your stories."

"The Iliad," surmised Walker as he leaned back in the chair and sighed heavily, "Always hated that fucking book," he admitted to the ceiling. He then turned to Sonja, "You might find it interesting, if you can get past the prose."

Sonja snorted and strode up, downing another sip of whiskey before pulling Walker to his feet, "What makes you say that?" she asked, taking another drink before stuffing the bottle into Joshua's hands.

"It sounds like something from Hyboria, the gods and their chosen warriors, the battles, the tactics. It's how your armies fight, I'd imagine. Shield walls, swords and spears, bows and arrows, all those sorts of things." The Bounty Hunter took a sip, feeling the alcohol start to ease the tension of the day and loosen his tongue. "The themes are all the things you love to talk about, warrior's pride, honor, glory."

Looking towards Sonja, Walker could see a curious spark in her eyes as she pulled up a stool of her own and sat down beside him. "All the things you care so little for," she observed, "But yes, we have many similar tales, how much they are truth and fantasy is a question lost to time. It is much the same with this." She then took another drink and said, "I am surprised that you hate it so, since you heed the lesson it must imbue." Walker raised an eyebrow, wondering what she was talking about. "You do not fight your battles with strength, but with cunning, even when your strength is the greater. Your patience is a boon in battle, as much as it frustrates me."

Walker smiled, "Damn, I suppose so," he murmured. "I know I ain't the easiest fella to get along with, Sonja. Consequence of working alone I guess," he deflected. Words tried to string together in his mind, but when he looked at the woman, they all died in his throat in the face of her beauty. That nagging sense of self-doubt about her being with him crept back into mind.

Sonja leaned into him, and he felt the strength wrapped up in her beautiful form as her arm came around his shoulders, his own arm snaking around her svelte waist. "Then you will have to learn, leaving the burden of teaching you to me." Walker then felt her press closer and place a chaste kiss on his cheek, "It is a burden I happily accept." Walker felt the heat rise up his neck and fought to keep his smile limited to a small smirk. "There is one thing I wish to know, however."

"What is it, Red Rose?" asked Walker, unable to help but tense.

Her eyes narrowed accusingly, "Today, did you intentionally ignore that man so that I could vent my frustrations on him?"

The small smile on Walker's face grew guiltily, "He was asking for it, wasn't he?" he answered simply.

Sonja's eyes glinted dangerously, "Indeed he was, and he did help alleviate some of my frustrations," she said as she stood up and turned towards the bed. Taking a step forwards, Walker saw the way the Hyrkanian's hips swayed, the flap of scalemail swinging one way and then the other, offering a teasing view of her backside while her arms reached back to the leather straps of her top and unclasped them. She casually discarded that half of the garment and looked back over her shoulder, "I need you to relieve the rest.

Walker flew from his chair and practically tackled Sonja onto the bed, where they stayed for the rest of the night.

Closing Notes: Something different in that there were no big action bits here, just a smaller one. Also got to get properly introduced to West Dickens, and there will be more of the supporting cast to come. Next chapter should be up on schedule.

Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.