Chapter 20: Dark Times Ahead

Days turned into weeks, and the new laws were enforced without mercy. The once-harmonious High Wind Gulch grew quiet, the laughter of children replaced by whispers of fear and resentment. Baron watched as his friends slowly drifted away, their parents too scared to let them associate with him. He saw the pain in their eyes, the pain of not being able to stand up to the new regime, the pain of being silenced.

The hat shop remained closed, the once-colorful door now a sad shade of gray. Becky spent her days sewing in secret, crafting hats for those who dared to visit under the cover of darkness. They were simple creations, not the grand masterpieces she was known for, but they were filled with love and hope. Avery worked tirelessly on the ranch, trying to provide for his family and keep the farm running despite the backbreaking work in the coal mines that awaited him every evening. There were some nights where Avery was forced to work all day and not see his family until after supper was over.

Baron's education became a secret affair, held in the quiet hours before dawn when Harmony would sneak over to the Buzzard ranch. The barn, once filled with laughter and the scent of fresh hay, now held whispers of algebra and history lessons. Harmony was a natural teacher, her eyes lighting up as she shared her knowledge, and Baron, eager to learn, devoured every word. Despite the bleakness of their situation, these moments were a semblance of normalcy, a spark in the shadow of oppression.

Aunt Sally, Uncle Stewart, and Baby Bailey watched the unfolding events with heavy hearts. They had hoped for a joyous reunion, but the darkness that had settled over High Wind Gulch cast a pall over their visit. As they packed their wagon to leave, Aunt Sally took Becky aside. "Now, Becky," she said, her voice laden with concern, "you and your family are always welcome in Buzzard's Peak. Don't you forget that. We've got plenty of room, and we'll do what we can to help ya out."

Becky nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you, Sally. But we've made a home here. We'll fight to keep it." She pulled her sister into a tight embrace, whispering, "We'll get through this."

The two families watched as the Buzzard's wagon disappeared into the dusty horizon, leaving a trail of sadness in its wake. Becky's heart felt heavier than the packs on the backs of the mules pulling the wagon. Despite the love and support from her sister, she couldn't shake the fear that had taken root in her heart. What kind of future was there for them in a town that no longer felt like home? And unless they were truly out of options that would no longer be worth fighting for, they might have no choice but to pack up and leave, selling off everything they had worked so hard to build, just to stay alive. That was the last thing Becky ever wanted for her family.

Baron, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, turned to Harmony, who was still by his side as they sat together by the creek. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harmony looked at him with a fierce resolve in her eyes. "We keep learnin', we keep growin', and we keep fightin' for what's right," she said firmly. "My pa taught me that sometimes you gotta stand up to bullies, no matter how big or scary they are. Like the Code of the West says: Never give up on fightin' for what's right."

Baron nodded slowly, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him. "The Code of the West," he murmured, remembering Clarence's stories of honor and courage. "You think we can do that?"

"I know we can," Harmony said, her voice unwavering. "We ain't like them. We don't need to hide behind lies and fear. We've got each other, and that's all we need."

Baron looked at Harmony, her feathers ruffled by the gentle breeze, her eyes filled with a fiery determination that mirrored his own. They sat by the lake, the water's edge kissed by the early morning light, their whispers echoing in the quiet. The serene setting was a stark contrast to the turmoil in their hearts.

"The Code of the West," Baron murmured, turning the words over in his mind. "It's about honor, ain't it? Standing up for what's right, no matter the cost."

Harmony nodded, her eyes never leaving the water's edge. "And our friendship," she said softly. "That's something we gotta fight for too."

Baron leaned against a rock, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "You know, Harmony," he began, "my tenth birthday's comin' up. And with all this goin' on, it feels like the whole world's against us."

Harmony nodded solemnly. "Mine too," she said. "But maybe we can make it special, just for us. Like a declaration of our friendship, you know?"

Baron's feathers perked up at the idea. "Yeah," he said, a small smile forming. "We'll show 'em that we won't let their fear control us. We'll celebrate our birthdays like we always have, but this time, it'll mean more."

The next morning, as Harmony rode off to school, she whispered a plan to Baron. "I'll ask Ma if she can get us a cake from Harriet," she said. "I'll tell her it's for a surprise party for Pa. She'll understand."

Baron's spirits lifted slightly at the thought. Despite the town's fear, he hadn't considered that their friendship with the HawkTails might grant them some semblance of a normal birthday. The days ticked by, each one heavier than the last, as they waited for Harmony's signal. Finally, the day before their shared birthday, she approached him with a sly grin. "It's all set," she said. "Ma's gonna get us a cake tomorrow."

Baron felt a rush of excitement. "But won't she get in trouble?" he asked, his voice low.

Harmony's smile grew wider. "Ma knows how to keep a secret," she assured him. "And Harriet's always had a soft spot for us. They both have ways of foolin' anyone."

Baron felt a spark of hope as they finalized their plans. Maybe, just maybe, they could still have a shred of normalcy amidst the chaos. The next day, as the sun began to set, Harmony arrived at the Buzzard ranch with a large, beautifully decorated cake hidden beneath her cloak.

"Ma says happy birthday from the both of us," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

They hurried to the barn, where Becky and Avery had set up a small, makeshift celebration. Two candles flickered on the cake, casting shadows on their faces as they sliced into the sugary goodness. The smell of vanilla and sweet berries filled the space, briefly masking the heaviness of the situation outside. For one sweet moment, Baron forgot about the closed hat shop, the whispers of fear, and the back-breaking work that awaited him.

As the candles burned low, Becky and Avery watched their son, their hearts swelling with pride. They knew the path ahead wouldn't be easy, but they had faith in him. Ruby had a knowing smile on her face, the same one Clarence had when he saw the determination in his daughter's eyes. The room grew quiet as the flames danced, casting shadows on the floor. Harmony leaned in, her gaze intense. "Baron," she whispered, "when the time is right, we'll uncover the truth about the gold mine and these unjust laws. We'll do it together."

Baron's eyes met hers, and he felt a sense of purpose settle over him. He took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. "We'll fight for what's right, Harmony," he vowed. "We'll show 'em that buzzards and hawks can stand side by side."

The flames on the candles flickered in the stillness, casting an eerie glow on their faces. Harmony leaned in closer, her voice a determined whisper. "Now that we're ten, we'll make our pact official," she said. "We'll go to the old oak tree by the creek, the one that's been there since before our folks were born."

It had only been months after Mayor Callahan's mysterious retirement, Becky remained undeterred. Her determination to live a life free from the shackles of prejudice grew stronger with each passing day. She would bundle up her son, Baron, and venture into town, ignoring the "No Buzzards" signs that had begun to pop up like weeds. The once-thriving restaurant and the general store had become cold, unwelcoming places, but Becky had a plan.

Entering the restaurant on the other side of town, Becky's stomach rumbled with hope and hunger as the aroma of freshly baked bread filled her nostrils. She approached the counter with a warm smile, placing a few of her handcrafted hats as trade ins for a loaf of bread and a small bag of sugar. The owner, a weasel named Wally, eyed her warily, his fur bristling with discomfort. "Ma'am," he said, his voice a forced pleasantry, "I'm sorry, but I can't accept these."

Becky's smile never wavered. "Why ever not?" she asked, her southern drawl sweeter than the tea she longed to make with the sugar. "These are fine hats, made with love and care. I'm sure your family would need them to keep their ears warm at night." Wally's eyes darted around the room, nervously seeking approval or reprimand from the other patrons. The silence was thick with tension, but Becky remained unfazed. She knew that Wally didn't share the same prejudices as the Nosedives and their ilk, but fear had a way of making good folks do things they wouldn't otherwise. "Look," she whispered, leaning in closer, "just this once. For old times' sake. I know you're a fair critter, Wally."

With a sigh, Wally reached under the counter and slid the items across to Becky. "Just keep your head down, Becky," he murmured. "Things are... tense."

Baron watched the exchange with a frown, the weight of the world pressing down on his young shoulders. He knew that his mother's hope was a beacon in the dark, but the town's hostility was a stark reality he couldn't ignore. The signs that had once been rare had multiplied, and the whispers of fear grew louder with each passing week.

They made their way to the general store; the same one Becky had been visiting for supplies and trade ins since they moved to High Wind Gulch. Becky's heart swelled with nostalgia as she stepped inside, the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards greeting them like an old friend. The shelves were stocked with goods from all over Moo Mesa, a testament to the town's former prosperity. She hoped that Miles Pronghorn, would be as fair-minded as he had always been, despite the town's changing tides.

Miles looked up from behind the counter, his antelope eyes widening when he saw Becky and Baron. He had always had a soft spot for Becky's kind spirit and her beautiful hats. The two of them had struck a friendship based on mutual respect and shared love for their families. As they approached, he offered a tentative smile, "Becky, Baron," he said, his voice warm but cautious. "What can I do for ya'll today?"

Baron looked around the store, noticing the subtle changes. The once-bustling shelves were now half-empty, and the usual chatter of customers was replaced with hushed whispers and suspicious glances. The stench of fear had seeped into every corner, and he could feel the tension coiling around him like a serpent.

Miles' smile grew forced as he took in the sight of Becky's hats. He cleared his throat. "Becky, I... I can't take these," he said, his eyes darting to the window. "You know the new laws."

Becky's feathers ruffled with a mix of sadness and anger, but she kept her voice calm. "Miles," she began, "you and I have been doin' business for years. You know the quality of my work."

Miles swallowed hard, his antelope eyes filled with regret. "Becky, it' ain't about the quality," he said softly. "It's just... the times have changed. I can't risk it."

Baron felt his mother's hope waver, but her resolve remained. She placed the hats on the counter with a gentle thud. "Miles, we've all seen tough times," she said firmly. "But we can't let fear turn us against each other."

Miles' gaze fell to the hats, then to Becky, then to the window. His ears twitched nervously as he sighed. "Becky, I'm sorry," he said. "But the times are tougher than you think. And if I'm caught dealin' with buzzards..."

Becky's eyes narrowed, the warmth in her voice fading. "We're still your neighbors, Miles," she said, her voice firm. "We are all just tryin' to live our lives."

Miles looked away, his hands trembling slightly. "I know, Becky," he replied. "But with Otto in charge and Edward... I mean, Hawkspur... watchin' over us, I can't risk it. You understand, don't ya?"

Becky's gaze was unyielding. "What I understand," she said, "is that fear is a powerful thing. But it ain't gonna fill our bellies or keep us warm." She leaned in closer, her voice a fierce whisper. "If it comes to that, I'll take the blame. I'll spend a day or two in that jail house if it means my son gets to eat and learn. You just make sure Harmony looks after him, okay?"

Miles' ears flattened against his head, his eyes misting over. "Becky, I..."

"It's alright, Miles," Becky cut in, her voice firm yet filled with understanding. "You've got a family to think about. I know how it is." She picked up her hats, her feathers brushing against the rough countertop. "But remember, fear can't build bridges, only tear 'em down. And when the dust settles, it's those bridges that'll matter most."

Miles' expression softened, his antlered head drooping slightly. "I'll keep that in mind, Becky," he murmured, his eyes still on the hats. "I'm sorry."

With a nod, Becky turned and ushered Baron out of the store, her tail feathers flicking in agitation. "Don't you worry, son," she said as they stepped into the street. "We'll get through this. We always have, had we not?"

Baron looked up at her, trying to mimic her strength. "But how, ma?" he asked, his voice small. "Everyone's scared."

"We'll find a way, son," Becky said, her eyes scanning the desolate street. "We've got each other, and we've got friends who'll help us when the time's right."

Miles watched them leave, his heart heavy with the weight of his decision. He knew Becky was right; fear was a powerful thing, but it was also a contagious one. He had to do something, even if it meant risking his own neck. After a moment's hesitation, he gathered the hats and tucked them away in a hidden corner of his stockroom. With a furtive glance over his shoulder, he hurried to the back of the store, his antlered head swiveling to ensure no one had seen his rebellious act. The secret compartment was a reminder of the town's darker days, a place where he had hidden contraband and whispers of rebellion before. Now, it would hold Becky's beautiful creations, a silent protest against the new regime.

"Here," he whispered, shoving the hats into the cramped space. "These will be safe here." He closed the compartment with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet store like a promise. His conscience pricked him, but he knew he couldn't betray Becky or the friendship they had built.

As Becky and Baron made their way back to the farmstead, the setting sun cast long shadows across the dusty street. The air was thick with the scent of tension, and every footstep felt heavier than the last. High above, a flock of buzzards circled, a grim reminder of the fate that awaited any creature who dared to challenge the status quo.

Otto Bulloney sauntered into their path, his son Oscar trailing behind like a loyal shadow. The bull's eyes narrowed as he took in Becky's unyielding posture and Baron's downturned gaze. "Becky," he drawled, tipping his hat with a smarmy smile, "what a surprise to see you out and about, especially after the... unfortunate incident with the restaurant."

Becky's feathers bristled, and she stepped in front of her son protectively. "Otto," she said, her voice cool as the evening air, "you know I don't take kindly to threats."

Otto's smile never wavered, but there was a glint in his eye that spoke of a cunning mind at work. "Just a friendly reminder, Becky," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Times have changed, and we all gotta adapt, don't we?"

Becky's beak tightened, but she kept her cool. "Adapt?" she echoed. "Or conform?"

Otto's smile grew wider, revealing the gap between his teeth. "Semantics, dear Becky. You're always so sharp." His gaze shifted to Baron, who was trying his best to shrink behind his mother. "And how's the little scavenger? Ready to follow in his daddy's footsteps?"

Baron's feathers stood on end, and he felt a hot surge of anger at the derogatory term. But before he could say anything, Becky stepped closer to Otto, her eyes flashing. "You watch your tongue, Bulloney," she hissed. "My son is more than what you make him out to be." She pointed a finger at him in rage, willing to risk anything if it meant defending someone she loved in a society of corruption and injustice.

Otto chuckled, his massive belly jiggling with the motion. "Easy, Becky," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just sayin' that a buzzard's gotta know its place, that's all." His gaze drifted to the sad state of Becky's hats, her pride and joy now tucked under her wing. "It's for your own good. Wouldn't want any trouble for your family, would ya?"

Baron's grip tightened on his mother's arm, his eyes burning with a fierce determination that surprised even himself. "Mr. Bulloney," he said, his voice steady despite the quiver in his knees, "we ain't scared of you or your laws. We're just tryin' to live our lives. We ain't even scared of the Nosedive family either."

Otto's smile grew thinner, his eyes flicking from Becky to Baron and back again. "Spoken like a true Buzzard," he said, his tone mocking. "But remember, boy, the laws are here to keep you in line." He leaned down, his breath hot and sour against Baron's feathers. "And if you or your kin step out of place, we'll know where to find you."

Becky's grip on her son's arm tightened, but she didn't back down. "You leave my family alone," she snarled, her eyes never leaving Otto's. "We've done nothin' but be good to this town, and we'll keep doin' so. Why so set on makin' us suffer?"

Otto's smile didn't falter, but his eyes grew cold. "Sufferin' is part of life, Becky," he said, his voice low. "You've just gotta learn to deal with it." He turned to leave, his spurs jingling with every step. "But remember," he called over his shoulder, "you're just one bird in a flock. Don't go thinkin' you can fly against the wind."

Becky watched him go; her feathers still ruffled. She took a deep breath and turned to Baron, her eyes softening. "Come on, let's get home," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "We've got a lot to talk about."

Back at the farm, Becky sat Baron down at the kitchen table, her eyes filled with a determination that seemed to burn with the candlelight. "Baron," she began, her voice serious, "you know your pa and I never wanted you to grow up in a world like this."

Baron felt a flicker of hope in his chest. "What can we do, ma?"

Becky leaned closer, her expression intense. "We're gonna show 'em that we ain't just buzzards," she said. "We're High Wind Gulch citizens, and we deserve to be treated as such."

Baron's eyes lit up with understanding. "We're gonna fight back?"

Becky's expression softened, stroking his cheek with her wing. "Not with fists, son," she said. "With hearts and minds. With every act of kindness, every word of truth, we're gonna show 'em the error of their ways."

Baron nodded solemnly, his eyes reflecting the candle's flame. "But what if they don't wanna see it? And what about the time you told me n' Harmony how you got in a fight with Edna Nosedive?"

Becky sighed, her gaze distant. "Well, son," she said, "sometimes, you gotta fight fire with fire. But that don't mean you gotta become the thing you're fightin' against. We'll stand our ground, but we'll do it with our heads held high."

Baron nodded, his eyes reflecting his mother's resolve. "I'll do whatever it takes," he said firmly. "For us and for Harmony."

Becky managed a smile, despite the sadness that tugged at her heartstrings. "That's my boy," she said, patting his back. "Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We've got to be smart about this. We'll start by keepin' our heads down, doin' our work, and helpin' our neighbors when we can."

As the days turned into weeks, Becky and Baron worked tirelessly on the farm, maintaining the illusion of conformity while biding their time. Becky knew that the townsfolk's sudden hostility was not rooted in personal grievances but in the whispers of fear and prejudice that had crept into their hearts. She held onto the hope that if they remained steadfast in their kindness, the veil of ignorance would eventually lift. With Avery working late at the coal mines, sometimes she feared for his life and that he would never come back home again but tried not to overthink the situation. Even if he sometimes missed dinner on his way home, smelling like coal dust and looking exhausted, she knew he was doing his best to keep their family afloat.

One sun-soaked afternoon, Becky decided to pay a visit to Ruby at the restaurant where she worked, bringing with her a basket of fresh eggs that had been a staple of their secret trades. As she approached the "Darla Dove's Restaurant" sign that swung lazily in the breeze, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the possible confrontation that might await her. The restaurant was quieter than usual, with only a few patrons scattered among the tables, their eyes wary and their conversations hushed.

Ruby looked up from her work, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Becky. "Becky!" she called out, hurrying over to the door to greet her friend. "What brings you here today?"

Becky offered the basket with a smile. "Just a few eggs from our coop," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "Thought Darla might like 'em for the specials."

Ruby took the basket with a grateful nod, her eyes scanning the street beyond Becky's shoulder. "Thanks," she said, her voice lowered. "But you might wanna watch your back around here."

Becky frowned. "What's goin' on?" She whispered back.

Ruby glanced around, her eyes darting from table to table. "Since Otto and the Nosedives took over, he's been allowin' all sorts of riffraff into town," she murmured. "The Copper Star's turned into a real den of iniquity. Darla's had to hire extra hands just to keep the peace."

Becky's smile faltered, but she straightened her hat. "We've all gotta make a livin'," she said, her voice firm. "And I ain't one to judge."

Ruby nodded, her gaze sympathetic. "That you don't," she said. "But you've got a good heart, Becky. And in these times, that can be a dangerous thing." She never wanted Becky to change who she was, but Ruby sometimes feared for her friend's life if she ever showed her true feelings in the wrong place. "I just don't want you to show it at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Becky's eyes searched Ruby's, understanding the gravity of her words. "I'll be careful," she promised, giving Ruby's hand a squeeze. "But I can't hide from who we are forever."

With that, Becky stepped out into the dusty street, her eyes scanning the area around the Copper Star Saloon. The once-friendly faces had been replaced by scowls and suspicion. The air was thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and the cloying sweetness of desperation. She walked with her head held high, ignoring the leers and catcalls from the drunken patrons that spilled out onto the wooden sidewalks. The Copper Star, once a beacon of friendship and community, had become a breeding ground for the worst of Moo Mesa's inhabitants. Her feathers fluttered with nervousness as she approached the saloon, the clinking of poker chips and the raucous laughter echoing from within. She pushed open the swinging doors, the heat of the packed room washing over her like a wave. Darla Dove, the once-elegant owner from the restaurant, now looked tired and drawn, her feathers ruffled as she tried to keep order amidst the chaos. Becky wondered how she ended up here when she was supposed to be where Ruby was working.

Her feathers fluttered with nervousness as she approached the saloon, the clinking of poker chips and the raucous laughter echoing from within. She pushed open the swinging doors, the heat of the packed room washing over her like a wave. Darla Dove, the once-elegant owner from the restaurant, now looked tired and drawn, her feathers ruffled as she tried to keep order amidst the chaos. Becky wondered how she ended up here when she was supposed to be where Ruby was working.

Making her way through the sea of unsavory characters, Becky's eyes searched for Darla. When she finally spotted her, she was serving drinks to a table of gambling felines in miner outfits, their eyes glazed with a mix of greed and despair. Becky's heart sank. This was not the Darla she knew, the proud and vibrant bird who had shared countless cups of tea and stories of her adventures.

With a deep breath, Becky approached the bar, the scent of spilled whiskey and cigar smoke stinging her nostrils. "Darla," she called out, her voice cutting through the din.

Darla's head snapped up, and for a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from her eyes when she saw Becky. She hastened over, wiping her hands on her apron. "What are you doin' here?" she hissed.

"I came to check on you," Becky said, her voice low and urgent. "Ruby told me things have changed around here."

Darla's eyes searched Becky's, and for a moment, she hesitated. Then she leaned closer, her voice a whisper. "You ain't heard?"

Becky's frown deepened. "Heard what?"

Darla took a step back, her gaze darting to the rowdy crowd. "Otto's been... pressurin' me," she confessed, her voice barely a murmur. "Said he'd make sure my young'uns never saw the sun if I didn't wrangle the Copper Star for him."

Becky's feathers stood on end, her eyes widening in shock. "What?!"

Darla's expression grew grim. "He's got a hold on my family," she said, her voice quivering. "If I don't keep this place runnin' for him, he'll...he'll make sure they never leave that mine alive."

Becky's heart ached for her friend, and anger bubbled in her chest. "Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered fiercely.

Darla's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I couldn't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You got plenty to handle, Becky. Thought if anyone could keep it under wraps, it'd be you."

Becky's gaze grew steely, her feathers bristling. "But Clarence," she said, her voice firm. "He's the sheriff. He's sworn to uphold the law. He can't just stand by while Otto does this to you."

Darla's eyes filled with despair. "Clarence and the law birds are doin' all they can," she said, her voice tight. "But Otto's got the council in his pocket. And with Edward back in town...it's only gettin' worse."

Becky nodded, her beak set in a firm line. "I understand," she said, "but we can't let this go on." She leaned in closer. "You tell me who's in on it, and I'll make sure to keep my eyes peeled."

Darla squeezed Becky's hand. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes shining with gratitude. "But be careful, Becky. If Edward's spies catch wind of what you're doin', it'll be both our hides."

Becky nodded solemnly. "I know that," she said, her voice a fierce whisper. "But I won't let your family suffer like this. We'll find a way to put an end to Otto's reign and bring the Nosedive family down once and for all."

Darla's eyes searched Becky's, looking for any sign of doubt. But what she saw instead was a burning determination that mirrored her own. "Just watch your back," she warned. "Edward's got eyes everywhere."

Becky nodded, her grip on Darla's hand unyielding. "I will," she promised. "And I'll find a way to get your family outta this mess."

Leaving the Copper Star, Becky felt the weight of the town's troubles settling heavily on her shoulders. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street that seemed to whisper of the darkness that had seeped into the hearts of their neighbors. She knew she had to be cautious, to keep her true intentions hidden from the prying eyes of Otto and Edward's supporters. Her mind raced as she walked home, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound to break the silence. How could she help Darla's family without alerting their captors? The answer came to her as she passed the sheriff's office, the stars beginning to twinkle in the velvet sky above. Clarence had to know. He would understand the gravity of the situation and surely have resources that could help.

Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a few unsavory characters lounging outside the saloon, their sneers and leers following her as she passed. They were the kind that had started to show up more frequently since the Nosedives had taken over, bringing with them the stench of greed and malice. Becky picked up her pace, her arms holding onto the basket she brought with her to the restaurant. The once-friendly town had become a minefield of danger and deceit, and she had to tread carefully to avoid detection. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and anger, but she couldn't let it show. Not yet. Her family and friends were counting on her to find a way out of this. She couldn't let them down.

As Becky reached the outskirts of town, she took a deep breath of the cool evening air, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. The farm was just up the hill, a beacon of warmth and safety amidst the encroaching shadows. She climbed the path, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. The farmhouse lights flickered in the distance, a reminder of the peaceful life they had once known. Now, it was a bastion of hope in a world that seemed to be crumbling around them.

Her thoughts drifted back to Darla's plight, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. The farm grew closer, and she knew she had to come up with a plan to help her friend. A rustle in the bushes caused Becky to startle, her instincts sharpened by the recent turn of events. She paused, her eyes searching the darkness, but nothing emerged. Just the desert's usual nocturnal serenade. With a shake of her head, she continued her journey, pushing the fear aside.

As Becky approached the sheriff's office, she saw Clarence outside, talking to a couple of his law birds. The sight of his strong, stoic form brought her some comfort. She had always known him to be fair and just, and she hoped that his integrity had not been compromised by the town's new regime. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched up to him.

"Clarence," she said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "Could I have a word?"

The hawk sheriff looked up, his eyes weary but alert. He nodded, gesturing for Becky to follow him into his office. The door creaked shut behind them, muffling the laughter and shouts of the saloon. Clarence sat heavily in his chair, his wings spread wide, and Becky took a seat across from him, her empty egg basket forgotten on her lap.

"What's on your mind, Becky?" Clarence asked, his voice a mix of concern and fatigue.

Becky took a deep breath, her heart racing. "It's Darla," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Otto's got her family in the mines, and he's forcing her to run the Copper Star for him."

Clarence's eyes narrowed, his feathers bristling at the revelation. "What makes you think she'd confide in you?" he asked, his tone sharp with suspicion.

Becky met his gaze without flinching. "Because she knows I won't sit by and let 'em suffer," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "And she's right. We can't let Otto and Hawkspur get away with this. Not if we wanna keep High Wind Gulch from turnin' into the kind of place where good folks live in fear."

Clarence leaned forward, his eyes searching Becky's. "You're talkin' treason," he warned her softly. "You know that don't you?"

Becky nodded, her gaze unwavering. "I know," she said. "But it's the right thing to do. And I know you ain't gonna just sit by and let it happen." Her eyes were filling with tears at the terrible things happening.

Clarence leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing briefly. "We've been watchin', Becky," he admitted. "Me and the law birds, we've been seein' the changes, the way things have been goin' downhill. But we've had to be careful. If Otto and Edward catch wind of what we're plannin', it could mean the end of all of us."

Becky nodded solemnly, her feathers ruffling with the gravity of the situation. "I understand," she said. "But Darla and her family can't keep livin' like this. None of us can." At least to her relief, it was comforting to know that Clarence was not turning his back on the law, despite their undercover mission having been complicated, explaining why he and the others had to be careful and keep secrets reluctantly for the others' safety.

Clarence leaned forward, his gaze intense. "We've got a plan," he murmured, his voice low. "But it's risky. And it requires the right people to come together." His eyes searched Becky's, looking for any hint of doubt. But all he saw was a spark of hope that mirrored his own. "We're gonna need everyone we can trust." He slid a piece of paper across the desk, the edges worn from being handled so much. It was a map of the mines, with tiny notations scribbled in the margins. "We think we know where they're keepin' Darla's family," he said, his voice tight with anger. "But we can't do it alone. We need to build a network of those willing to stand against Otto and the Nosedives."

Becky's eyes widened as she studied the map, her heart racing. "I'm in," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "Whatever it takes."

Clarence nodded, his gaze serious. "Good," he said. "But don't be rushin', Becky. This ain't just 'bout settin' Darla's kin free. It's 'bout bringin' justice back to High Wind Gulch. And findin' what's become of Callahan."

The hawk's words sent a shiver down Becky's spine. The former mayor's disappearance was still a sour topic in town, a reminder of the depths Otto and Edward would sink to maintain their power. "I understand," she said, her voice firm. "We'll be careful. Harmony's been a great help. I reckon she'll want to be part of this too."

Clarence nodded solemnly. "Harmony's got spirit," he agreed. "But we've gotta keep her safe. These ain't the same games we played when we were young'uns. This is life and death, Becky."

Becky felt a chill run through her feathers at the gravity of Clarence's words. "I know," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. "But she's just like us. She won't stand for injustice."

Clarence nodded gravely. "I know," he said. "And that's why we need to be smart about this. We can't go around shoutin' our intentions from the rooftops. If Otto and Edward catch wind of what we're up to, we can't afford, or risk bein' shut down. It ain't always easy pretendin' to side with the enemy just to find out what they're up to."

Becky's grip tightened on the basket. "But we can't let them win," she said fiercely. "We have to show everyone that love and kindness are stronger than fear and hate."

Clarence's gaze softened, and he gave her a small, sad smile. "Ain't nobody sayin' different, Becky," he said gently. "But this here's a long game we're playin'. It's gonna take time and patience, and a whole lot of trust. We can't go runnin' our beaks 'bout this in public. They've got eyes and ears everywhere, and if they catch wind of our plans, it'll all be for nothin'." He leaned back in his chair, his wings folding around him. "What I can promise," he said, his voice steady, "is that I'll never abandon you or your family. Or anyone in this town who's suffered under Otto's rule. And Harmony," he added with a nod. "She's still my own daughter. I'll protect her with my last breath. And I'd give my life for her, and Ruby."

Becky felt a lump form in her throat, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you, Clarence," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I know I can count on you."

The hawk sheriff nodded, his expression solemn. "Now, Becky," he said, leaning forward. "For both our sakes, you can't be seen comin' here durin' the day. If they catch on to us, it'll be trouble for everyone involved. You understand?"

Becky swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving Clarence's. "I understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But how will we keep in touch?"

Clarence leaned back in his chair, stroking his beak thoughtfully. "We'll have to be clever," he said. "I'll send messages through the usual channels. You know, the ol' owl post." He winked, trying to lighten the mood. Becky managed a small smile, appreciating the attempt. "But for anything important," he continued, "I'll come to you. Just not during the day."

"How will you manage?" Becky asked, her voice laced with concern. "They're always watchin'."

Clarence's eyes held a steely resolve. "We've got our ways," he assured her. "I'll come under the cover of darkness. It's risky, but it's the only way."

The next few days passed with Becky waiting anxiously for nightfall. During the day, she maintained the facade of normalcy, going about her business as if nothing were amiss. She sold her hats in secret, exchanging glances with Miles and Wally that spoke volumes without uttering a word. Each night, as the stars began to twinkle in the indigo sky, she would sit on the porch of the farmhouse, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. It was a tense, nerve-wracking game of cat and mouse, but she knew it was necessary for the safety of all involved.

On the fourth night, the soft clop of horse hooves finally reached her ears. She rose from her chair, her heart racing, and made her way down the porch steps. Clarence sat astride his trusty steed, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger before he nodded to her. Becky's heart swelled with gratitude and relief as she approached him.

"What's the plan?" she whispered urgently.

Clarence's gaze was solemn as he leaned down. "We're gonna start small," he said. "Gather a few good folks we can trust. Wally, Miles, Darla, anyone else you think might be willing to stand with us."

Becky nodded, her mind racing with the names of those they could approach. "I know a few," she murmured. "But we have to be silent. They can't know who else is involved."

Clarence nodded gravely. "Agreed," he said. "We'll keep it tight-knit, for now. Just enough to get the ball rollin'." He handed her a small leather pouch filled with gold nuggets. "This here's from the gold mine," he said. "Use it wisely. It's to help those in need, and to build trust with others who might join our cause."

Becky took the pouch, feeling the weight of its contents. "Thank you," she said, her voice trembling. "We'll make sure it's put to good use."

Clarence nodded, his eyes gleaming with determination. "The gold's got power, Becky," he said. "It's more than just a symbol of wealth. It's a reminder of what we're fightin' for. Freedom, justice, and the right to live without fear."

Becky took the pouch and tucked it into her pocket, her mind racing with the possibilities. "I'll get to work," she said, her voice firm. "We'll start spreading the word, but I'll have to tell Avery when he comes back."

Clarence's expression grew serious. "Remember Becky, not a word to anyone else," he warned. "Not even Avery, not yet. We need to be absolutely sure of who we can trust."

Becky nodded solemnly, her heart heavy with the burden of the secret. As Clarence rode off into the night, she couldn't shake the memory of Avery's face when he had come home from the last horse race from the Founder's Day events years back when Baron was still an infant, his eyes filled with sadness and resignation. The gold trophy, once a symbol of their pride and hard work, had been traded for a bag of meager supplies. The crops had failed again from lack of rain along with the creek drying up, and with the mines under Otto's control, they had no choice but to sell the one thing that held any value to keep food on the table. The gold had bought them a few more days of sustenance, but it was a bitter victory.

The town had changed so much since then along with the weather, but the taste of those lean times remained with Becky. The way Avery's feathers had drooped when he handed over the prize, the way Baron had clung to her skirts, his eyes wide and scared, not understanding the gravity of their situation. Becky had made a silent vow that day to do whatever it took to ensure her son never had to go hungry again, and to fight against the injustices that had brought them to that point.

Becky could hardly bear it to think about the gold trophy kept all these years as a gleaming symbol of Avery's skill and their family's hope. Now it was a painful reminder of their desperation, sitting in some dusty corner of Otto Bulloney's mansion elsewhere, probably forgotten and unappreciated. Becky's eyes hardened as she thought about it, her determination to right these wrongs growing stronger by the second.

Meanwhile, in another part of the mesa, there lies a town populated by multiple mutated/anthropormorphic canines. Here, it was called Dog-Town, a peaceful place run by its mayor, Richard Dunruff, and its Sheriff, Kurt Barkson. One day in the town hall, an adult border collie rode on horseback with his son, both of them would listen to the townsfolk discuss about certain events...

"... Um, Pa?" (A young Brandon Wishford at the age of eight years old would ask his father Austin Wishford.) "What are they saying?"

"They're sayin' somethin' about rumors from another town. I've first heard about this yesterday... Have you heard of the town High Wind Gulch?" Austin asked his son.

"No?" said a young Brandon.

"Alright, guess I'll explain it to ya... This city was once a safe haven for all birds alike. However, from what I heard according to those rumors, there seemed to be something going on with how buzzards and vultures are facing unfair disadvantages. My guess is that somethin' don't seem right..." Austin would look at the dark skies from the northwest, as if it had become a sign of bad things to come.

"Should we go over there and see it for ourselves?" Brandon was both curious and concerned by his Pa's words.

"No. It may be too dangerous..." Austin had showed his concern for his only son. Whatever was happening now in the town wasn't the right time to go. He couldn't imagine anything else, clearly since he was... "You just stick close to me. The only safe place here is this town, and our farm... do you understand?" He had to make sure Brandon stayed where he was.

"... Yes, Pa." Brandon nodded his head reluctantly.

"I'm glad that ya understand. Now then, I'll take care of a few errands in town, and then we'll ride back home to yer Momma..." He took Brandon's hand as they went about their business in Dog Town.

"I just wonder what it's like out there...?" The young Brandon had pondered to himself about High Wind Gulch. And not just that, he would think about the rest of the Mesa as well. One day, Brandon may grow up to journey across the range, riding through place to place once he was old enough to go on his own. Not only was this young farm boy dreamed to be a rodeo cowboy, but he longed for a way to help people regardless of who they were. But for now, he listened to his father until then...

Back in High Wind Gulch, Becky thought back again to the memory of how Avery had come home that day, the sun setting behind him like a mournful painting, the gold trophy clutched in his claws like a tarnished hope. He had tried to hide the sadness in his eyes, but Becky had seen it. The crops had withered in the sun, the earth as parched as their dreams. They had all gathered around the table, the silence as heavy as the dust that clung to the air. It was then that Becky had realized the true cost of the Nosedives' and Otto's rule—it wasn't just about the gold, or the land, or even the prejudices that divided them. It was about the very essence of who they were as a family and as inhabitants of High Wind Gulch.

She remembered Avery's defeated stance, the way he had set the trophy down on the kitchen counter with a thud, echoed in Becky's mind. It had been the first time she had seen him break, the first time she had felt the full weight of their desperation. The gold had bought them a little more time, but it had also stolen a piece of Avery's spirit. He had looked at her, his eyes filled with a plea she had never seen before. "We can't keep doin' this," he had said, his voice barely a whisper. "We gotta find a way out."

Becky had nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears she refused to shed in front of her son. She had known it was only a matter of time before Avery's pride was shattered by the town's cruel laws. The gold trophy had been their shining beacon, a testament to his skill and their hope for a better future. Now, it was a cold, heavy weight in her pocket, the price of their survival.

AN: It is in this chapter that we not only see the start of the dark times ahead for High Wind Gulch but are introduced to Brandon Wishford at eight years old who has only spent the first eight years of his life as a child, unaware of too many things happening right now. It is always hard for people to keep their hopes alive when it seems that the world is against you and starts to make one question about their own self-worth. Also Brandon Wishford does not belong to me. I'm borrowing him for the story as agreed to the real owner who is Anon-Guy-3000