Chapter 40: Walking Into An Ambush

Meanwhile, in Avian City, Ruby had been busy back home cleaning at the HawkTail Ranch while Harmony was in the sheriff's office, dusting the shelves filled with wanted posters and organizing Falcon's paperwork. The air was thick with the scent of ink and polished oak, and the ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound that broke the silence. Harmony had become a regular sight around the office, her keen eyes always watching, learning the ins and outs of the law and the town's history of outlaws. Her mind often drifted back to the tales her father had told her, of his battles against the Black Hoods and his friendship with Baron's father Avery.

The door creaked open, and in walked Becky Buzzard, her feathers ruffled from the dusty wind outside. She held a tray with two steaming mugs of coffee. "Thought you might need a break," she said, setting the tray down on the desk with a gentle thud. Harmony looked up, her expression one of gratitude and a hint of surprise. Becky had become almost like another motherly figure to her, ever since Clarence's passing. "How's it going?" Becky asked, her eyes scanning the room with a knowing glance.

"Same old," Harmony replied, taking a sip of the hot brew. "Just keeping things in order while Falcon's out." She set down the mug and picked up a duster, swiping it over the dusty bookshelf.

Becky nodded, her gaze lingering on Harmony for a moment before looking away. "You know," she began, her voice low, "I've been worried about you, honey."

Harmony paused in her cleaning, her feathers fluttering slightly. "Me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Becky took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the desk. "You've been throwing yourself into your work since the rodeo. It's like you're trying to fill a void with it."

Harmony frowned, continuing her dusting. "What void?" she asked, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. "I'm just doing my job. Falcon needs all the help he can get."

Becky placed a comforting hand on Harmony's shoulder. "I know you're strong, dear. But even the toughest hawk needs to rest its wings now and then." She handed her a mug of coffee. "Your pa would want you to live your life, not just chase after outlaws all the time."

Harmony took the coffee, her expression thoughtful. "You're right, Becky," she admitted, sipping the dark liquid. "But what else is there for me? This is what I know. This is what I'm good at."

Becky's eyes searched hers. "There's more to life than just fighting, Harmony," she said softly. "Your pa knew that. He had a gentle side too, you know."

Harmony's eyes widened, and she took a sip of coffee, not quite meeting Becky's gaze. "I know," she murmured. "But the town needs me. And I can't let them down. You know how Falcon can be sometimes—he needs someone who can keep up with him."

Becky's smile grew a little sadder. "I know, dear," she said. "But he also knows how to take care of himself. And you can't be everything to everyone. You need to take care of yourself, too."

Harmony nodded, understanding the truth in Becky's words. She had been pushing herself harder since the rodeo, feeling like she had something to prove. But what Becky said made her realize that maybe it was time to ease up a bit. "I'll try," she promised, setting the coffee down. "But what about Baron? I hope he still knows that I care about him, even if I'm not around much."

Becky squeezed her shoulder. "Oh, I know he does," she said. "But he's a grown buzzard, Harmony. And he's got his own path to follow."

Harmony nodded again, feeling the weight of Becky's words. It had been a month since the rodeo, and she had thrown herself into her work, trying to outdo herself every day. She hadn't seen Baron much, and she knew he was probably feeling left behind, despite having reconciled for the time being. But she had a duty to the town, a legacy to uphold. Her father's spirit seemed to whisper in her ear, reminding her that the law came first.

Falcon walked into the office, his badge glinting in the late afternoon sun. "You two still here?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. Harmony jumped to attention, her eyes snapping to the sheriff.

"Yeah, Becky was just payin' a visit and giving me some...advice," she said nervously, hoping she didn't sound too defensive. Falcon raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to Becky before returning to Harmony.

"Advice, huh?" he said, his tone mildly curious. "What's got you so riled up?"

Becky sighed, standing up from the desk. "Just worried about her, is all," she said. "You know how Harmony gets when she's got a goal in her sights." She dusts herself off and is getting ready to leave, feeling that Falcon's reason for being back may involve lawful matters that she probably shouldn't get involved in. "She's been working herself to the bone since she won that buckle at the rodeo. I just don't want her to burn out, that's all."

Falcon nodded, his expression understanding. "I'll keep an eye on her," he promised. "But you know Harmony. Once she sets her mind on something, it's like trying to turn a stampede." Becky nodded, her feathers fluttering in a sigh.

"I know," she said. "But she's young, and she's got so much ahead of her. I don't want her to miss out on life because she's too busy fighting other people's battles." She turned to leave, pausing at the door. "And tell Baron I said howdy. I know he's busy with the undertaking, but I miss seeing him around here."

Falcon nodded, watching Becky's retreating figure before turning back to Harmony. "You've been pushing yourself hard, kid," he said, his voice gruff but kind. "Maybe Becky's got a point."

Harmony looked at her boots, feeling the sting of truth in his words. "I just want to make sure the town's safe," she murmured. "And I don't want to let anyone down, especially not you or Daddy." And she sure would hate to disappoint Falcon terribly if her temper got her a citation or a day in the jail cell next to someone, she had to lock up for breaking the law.

"I know," Falcon said, his voice softer. "But Clarence did not become the hero he was by ignoring his friends and family." He stepped closer to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Remember, you ain't just fighting for the town. You're fighting for those you love, too."

Harmony looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I know," she whispered. "It's just...it's so much responsibility. Sometimes it feels like the weight of Moo Mesa is on my shoulders, and if I don't keep fighting, it'll all fall apart again." Falcon's grip on her shoulder tightened, his expression a mix of pride and concern.

"You can't do it all alone," he said. "That's what friends are for. That's what I'm here for." He paused, his eyes searching hers. "And that's what Baron's here for, too. That's what I'm here for, Harmony. We're a team."

The words echoed in Harmony's mind, a gentle reminder that she wasn't carrying the burden alone. She looked up at Falcon, her eyes clearing. "You're right," she said, her voice stronger now. "I can't forget that." Falcon gave her a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

"You're not your father," Falcon continued, "and that's not a bad thing. You've got your own strengths, your own way of doing things. Clarence taught you well, but you've also learned from others. Like Becky, and even Baron." He leaned against the desk, his wings folded across his chest. "And let's not forget the folks in town. They're looking to you to lead them, sure, but they're also looking to each other."

Harmony nodded, thinking of Becky's words, and the way the townsfolk had come together during the rebellion. "I guess I just want to live up to his legacy," she said. "But I know I can't do it the same way he did."

Falcon's smile grew. "You're your own hawk, Harmony," he said. "Your father would be proud of the way you've taken to the skies and made your own path. But remember, even the best sheriffs need to rest their wings. As I do, you should too."

The sound of a horse's hooves clattering against the wooden boardwalks outside snapped them out of their conversation. A moment later, the door to the sheriff's office swung open and in bustled a young messenger, panting and out of breath. He held a telegram in his trembling hands, which he promptly handed over to Harmony with a quick nod.

"Ma'am," he gasped. "This just came in for you."

Harmony took the telegram, her heart racing as she scanned the words. "Unusual activity...Skinny Brook diamond mine," she murmured, her eyes narrowing. "Could it be...?"

Falcon's gaze sharpened, reading the urgency in her posture. "What is it?" he asked. Harmony handed him the telegram, her own eyes never leaving his. "Unusual activity at Skinny Brook's diamond mine," Falcon read aloud, his expression grim. "Could be anything. Could be bandits, could be nothing at all. But with what Becky said..." His voice trailed off as he handed the paper back to her. "We'd best not take any chances."

Harmony nodded firmly. "I'll saddle up and head out right away." She turned to the young messenger. "Thank you. You did well." The boy nodded, a hint of admiration in his eyes, and disappeared back out into the bustling street. "Falcon, I'll handle this," she said, tucking the telegram into her vest pocket. "You keep an eye on the town."

Falcon opened his mouth to protest, but something in Harmony's eyes told him that she had already made up her mind. "At least take some backup," he insisted. "Bandits are one thing, but you never know what you might run into."

But Harmony was already shaking her head. "This could be just a wild goose chase, Falcon. If it's nothing, I don't want to alarm the whole town unnecessarily. Besides," she said with a grin, "I can handle myself. Just like I told Baron when he was worried about me going after that horse rustler alone."

Falcon's expression softened, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Alright, you go on ahead. But keep in mind, it's always better to have someone watching your back." He handed her a set of silver bullets, the same kind her father had used. "Just in case," he said. "And don't forget to send up a flare if you need help." He had seen Harmony handle a few cases on her own before, but the thought of her riding into potential danger still sent a shiver down his spine.

With a nod, Harmony stepped out into the sun-drenched street. She knew the route to Skinny Brook like the back of her hand; it was a journey she had taken countless times as a child with her father. The thought of Clarence brought a bittersweet smile to her beak. He had taught her well, and she was determined to uphold his legacy, even if it meant facing challenges alone.

As she saddled up her horse Windstorm, a gust of wind picked up, carrying with it whispers of the desert that stretched out beyond the city limits. She tightened the cinch and swung into the saddle, feeling the familiar weight of her father's silver bullets in her holster. The sun glinted off the badge pinned to her chest, a reminder of the promise she had made to herself and the town.

Windstorm sensed her urgency and broke into a gallop without needing to be prompted. They raced out of Avian City, the dust rising in their wake as they sped towards Skinny Brook. Harmony's thoughts were a tumult of possibilities: could it truly be bandits, or was there something more sinister afoot? Her gut told her it was connected to her rival Bonnie, but she didn't know how.

Meanwhile, Ferrell Ferret, his tiny figure barely discernible at a distance, watched Harmony's retreating form with a malicious smirk. He knew that Grizzly would be thrilled by the news of her solo investigation. He waited until she was a couple of miles away before turning back towards the city of Skinny Brook, eager to report. His heart pounded with excitement at the thought of the chaos and trouble they could stir up, especially if they could pin it on the beloved Harmony HawkTail.

The sun had reached its peak by the time Harmony arrived at the outskirts of Skinny Brook. The town looked quiet and peaceful, but the unease in her stomach grew stronger. She tied Windstorm to the hitching post outside the sheriff's office and stepped inside. The local sheriff looked up from his paperwork, surprise etched on his face. "Miss HawkTail, what brings you out here?"

"I received a telegram about some suspicious activity at the diamond mine," Harmony said, keeping her voice low. "Thought I'd check it out. Do you know anything about it?"

The sheriff, a stoic brown steer named Sheriff Bob Bruiser, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Ain't seen no telegrams 'round these parts, but that don't mean much. Our telegraph fellers as trusty as a cactus in a gully washer." He paused, then leaned in closer. "Well, lemme tell ya, there's been some horseplay 'round the mines lately. Supplies goin' missin', odd sounds at night, y'know the drill. I rode up there myself to snoop 'round but didn't spot nothin' outta whack."

Harmony's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," she said, her voice steady and determined. "I'll head over to the mine and check it out."

Sheriff Bruiser nodded gravely. "You do that, but remember, Miss HawkTail, those diamonds are the lifeblood of this town. We can't have them bein' swiped up like apples from a tree for free. The folk here rely on 'em for their livelihoods." His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the responsibility that came with the badge she wore. "Keep your wits about you and watch for any sign of trouble," he added, handing her a map of the mine's layout.

Harmony took the map with a firm nod. "You can count on me, Sheriff," she said, tucking it into her saddlebag. "I ain't after no diamonds. I'm here to uphold the law and protect the innocent." With that, she turned and stepped back into the blinding sunlight. The heat was almost tangible, a constant reminder of the unforgiving environment that shaped the lives of those in Moo Mesa.

As she approached the mine, the air grew thick with anticipation. The clang of picks against rock echoed through the canyon, and the occasional shout of a miner pierced the quietude. Harmony's eyes scanned the area, searching for anything that seemed out of place. The mine looked like any other she'd seen, but she knew that appearances could be deceiving. She dismounted Windstorm, patting her gently on the neck. "You stay here, girl," she murmured. "I've got a feeling I might need you in a hurry."

The mine's entrance was a gaping maw, dark and foreboding. Harmony drew her guns, the silver feathers gleaming in the sunlight. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. Her boots crunched against the gravel as she walked towards the darkness, each step a deliberate echo in the otherwise silent afternoon. The smell of dust and earth filled her nostrils, mingling with the faint scent of something...off. It was a scent she couldn't quite place, but it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Once inside, the mine was a labyrinth of shadows and echoes. The air grew cooler, the only sounds the drip of water and the distant murmur of miners. Harmony moved with the grace of a ghost, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She had been in tougher spots before, but something about this place set her nerves on edge. Her hand hovered over the hammer of her gun, ready to draw at the first sign of trouble. The walls of the mine were lined with gleaming ore, the occasional glint of diamond winking at her from the rock face. The wealth of the mine was clear, but it was the safety of Skinny Brook that truly mattered to her.

As she ventured deeper, she noticed the tracks in the dust. They were faint, but they didn't belong to the miners' boots. They were too light, too precise. Harmony knelt down to examine them, her heart racing as she realized they were the tracks of someone...or something...trying to avoid being noticed. Her eyes followed the trail into a side tunnel, and she swallowed hard, stepping into the darkness. The smell grew stronger, a metallic tang that sent a shiver down her spine. It was the scent of greed, of desperation, of something that didn't belong in this peaceful town.

Suddenly, a wolf's howl pierced the stillness, echoing through the mine. Harmony's hand tightened on her gun's grip, her eyes scanning the shadows. It was a sound she knew well from her childhood, a reminder of the wildness that lay just beyond the town's borders. But here, in the heart of Skinny Brook's lifeblood, it seemed out of place. She told herself it was just the wind playing tricks on her, a solitary creature lost in the desert. She took a deep breath and continued, pushing the unease aside.

Turning a corner, she was met with a sight that made her blood boil. There, in a dimly lit side chamber, were Bonnie and Wrangler, their bags half-filled with glittering diamonds. They were laughing, their voices low and mocking, as they discussed the ease of their crime.

"This is like takin' candy from a baby," Bonnie said, a smug smile on her face as she held up a handful of the precious stones. "These yokels'll never miss 'em."

Wrangler chuckled, his eyes gleaming with greed. "You're right, Bonnie. This is gonna be the biggest score we've had in months." He grabbed another handful of diamonds, tossing them into his bag. "And we got Walker to thank for usin' his howl to keep the townsfolk distracted."

"These diamonds are like stars that fell from the sky," Bonnie said with a laugh, tossing a handful into the air. They rained down like a treacherous meteor shower, glinting in the torchlight. Harmony's jaw clenched at the sight. "They even make my eyes sparkle more than usual," she quipped, winking at Wrangler.

Wrangler, his fur a stark contrast to the gleaming stones, chuckled darkly. "I told ya this here heist'd be a walk in the park, Bonnie. These critters are downright gullible, won't see it comin'." He tossed a few more diamonds into the sack, each one landing with a metallic clink that seemed to mock Harmony's very presence. "Who needs rodeo money when we got diamonds to line our nests?"

Bonnie shot him a sharp look, her own sack bulging. "Don't get too comfortable, Weasel. We ain't outta here yet." Her gaze darted to the shadows, and for a heart-stopping moment, Harmony feared she'd been spotted. But the outlaw's eyes slid past her, searching for something else. "Grizzly is counting on us to finish up and get out without a trace. And we can't keep Carson waiting at the wagon much longer."

Wrangler's smile never left his face, even as he nodded in agreement. "You're right, as usual, Miss Bobcat. Let's get this over with and join the party." He turned away, tossing a few more diamonds into his sack with a flick of his wrist, the casual ease of his actions grating on Harmony's nerves.

Her grip tightened on her pistols, and she stepped out of the shadows, the sound of her boots on the stone floor echoing through the chamber. "Then it looks like the party's about to get a little more interesting," she drawled, her voice carrying a steely edge. "You two might wanna put those shiny rocks down real slow."

Bonnie and Wrangler spun around, their smiles faltering as they took in the sight of the hawk girl standing tall, her badge glinting in the flickering torchlight. "Well, well," Bonnie said, her tail swishing in an uncharacteristic display of nerves. "If it isn't the town's little hero, come to save the day." She feigned a dramatic sigh. "What a disappointment."

Wrangler's hand hovered over his holster, his eyes narrowing. "Looks like someone's been pokin' their beak where it don't belong." He took a step towards Harmony, the tension in the air thick as molasses. "Seems one of us mistakenly left a trail behind." By that, this was all part of Grizzly's plan he and Bonnie followed, pretending to act shocked by the sudden interruption.

Harmony's brown eyes flashed with anger, her grip on Clarence's silver bullets tightening. "This ain't a game, Bonnie," she said, her voice low and steady. "Cheatin' is one thing, but stealin' from innocent folks is another. That's where I draw the line."

"Oh please, it's only a few diamonds," Bonnie retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's your problem, Harmony? Can't handle a little competition? It's not like those folks will notice some missing when there's so much here." She tossed a handful of diamonds in the air, watching them sparkle as they fell. "Besides, we're just evening the score."

The echo of the diamonds clinking against the stone floor seemed to resonate through Harmony's very soul, fueling her anger. "You call this 'evening the score'?" she spat out. "This is just plain theft, and I won't stand for it."

Bonnie's smirk grew wider as she studied Harmony. "You ain't your daddy, Harmony," she said, her words as sharp as the knife she flipped casually in her hand. "You're just a girl with a gun and a fancy hat, tryin' to play sheriff. But you ain't got the stomach for this kind of work."

Wrangler chuckled, his eyes gleaming as he stepped closer to Harmony. "You're wrong, Miss HawkTail. This is a game," he said, his voice low and taunting. "And we're about to win it. You see, we've got a little surprise for you." He nodded to the shadows, and out of the darkness emerged Walker Wolfgang, his boleadoras swinging menacingly. "Looks like we've got ourselves a full house."

Ferrell slipped from his hiding place, a smug grin on his face. He held up a bag of gleaming diamonds. "Look what we found," he sang out, tossing it to Harmony's feet. "Care to explain these, Deputy?" The bag turned out to be what Harmony recognized was from the sheriff's office, filled with the very jewels that had been stolen from the mine. The situation had spun on its head, and she could feel the noose of accusation tightening around her neck. Somehow, Ferrell got a hold of it and planted it here. "Looks like you've been playing both sides of the law, HawkTail," he sneered.

Panic bubbled up in Harmony's chest, but she knew she couldn't let it show. She had to think fast. "You're the ones that belong behind bars," she said, her voice firm despite the fear that danced in her gut. "And you will be, as soon as I get back to town with the proof." She bent to pick up the bag, but Walker's boleadoras whipped through the air, wrapping around her arms and pinning them to her side.

"Not so fast, little lady," he growled. "We ain't done with you yet." He gave the ropes a sharp tug, pulling Harmony closer to him. The smugness on the faces of the Rough Riders grew as they reveled in the thought of their plan unfolding perfectly. Harmony felt the weight of the stolen diamonds against her side, the cold, hard proof of her supposed crime.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. How could she have been so naive? So trusting? The Rough Riders had played her, and now she was caught in their snare. But she wasn't about to go down without a fight. "You think this'll stick?" she sneered. "Framing a town hero?" She then saw Walker pull out a bottle of whisky from his pocket, the same brand her father used to drink. It was a subtle clue, a taunt meant to rattle her. "You're gonna regret this." She struggled in her bonds, her heart racing as the whiskey bottle was held out to her.

"Looks like you're a bit parched after all that digging," Walker said, his grin unsettling. He poured a generous amount of the amber liquid over her, soaking her vest and shirt, the scent of alcohol sharp in the stale air of the mine. Harmony's eyes narrowed as he brought the bottle to her mouth, forcing her to swallow a few drops. The warmth burned her throat, but she didn't flinch. She knew what he was doing—trying to make it look like she'd been on a drunken rampage, stealing and causing chaos. The liquor trickled down her chin and onto the ground, mingling with the dust and grit. "That's the spirit," he jeered.

Bonnie and Wrangler watched; their eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "Let's get going," Bonnie said, her voice a low purr. "We've got a reputation to maintain." Harmony felt a cold, metallic object press against her back. It was the barrel of a gun, probably Wrangler's. "And you," she spat, "are gonna be the reason we go down in history." The hatred in her voice was palpable.

The three outlaws began to lead Harmony out of the mine, her legs wobbly from the alcohol. She knew she had to act fast. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of help. The flicker of torchlight played off the walls, casting eerie shadows that danced alongside them as they made their way through the narrow tunnels. The whiskey was working its way through her system, muddling her thoughts and making her stumble and drowsy. But she couldn't let them take her to town like this—not only would it ruin her reputation, but it would also give them free rein to continue their crime spree.

Above the din of their laughter, Harmony heard the distant echo of a voice—deep, gruff, and unmistakably authoritative. It had to be Grizzly Gruff, the notorious leader of the Rough Riders. The mention of his name sent a chill down her spine, even as she felt herself fading into unconsciousness. Her instincts screamed at her to stay alert, to find a way out of this mess. But her body was betraying her, growing heavier with each step they took. Her head lolled back, and she could feel the rough fabric of the ropes cutting into her wrists and ankles. The whiskey's warmth spread through her, lulling her into a state where the world around her grew fuzzy and indistinct.

The voice grew clearer, Grizzly's words echoing down the tunnel. "Walker, did you take care of the horse?" The question hung in the air, loaded with meaning that only Harmony seemed to catch. Her eyes snapped open, and she stumbled forward, trying to shake the fog from her mind. They knew about Windstorm—they had drugged her, had planned for this all along somehow.

"All taken care of like you asked." Walker answered, carrying Harmony.

Harmony's thoughts swirled with horror and anger as the implication hit her. They had known about Windstorm, had drugged her, had planned for her to fail so in case Harmony tried to call for her, her beloved horse would not come to the rescue. This was a trap they set up with precision, and she had walked right into it. She had to warn Becky and the others. Only problem was she had been forced to ingest that whisky by Walker and now she can barely keep her eyes open. The walls of the mine seemed to close in on her as she was carried out, the foul taste of the liquid burning her throat.

"What're you gonna do to me?" Harmony managed to croak out, her voice slurred and weak.

Grizzly's leer grew wider as he stepped into the torchlight. "Why, little lady," he drawled, "we're fixin' to get you to fess up 'bout stealin' them diamonds, all nice and proper-like. Under the sway of your daddy's hooch, of course. That way, when folks hear tell, they'll know it ain't the doin's of no good lawman's daughter—just a plain ol' thief who couldn't keep her beak outta other folks' riches."

Wrangler and Bonnie chuckled at their leader's cruel words, their eyes shining with anticipation of the spectacle they were about to create. Harmony's stomach turned at the thought Skinny Brook and the townsfolk believing she would ever betray them, let alone steal from them. But the whiskey had its hold, and she could feel the room spinning as they approached the mine's entrance.

Outside, the cool desert air hit her face like a slap. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the dusty landscape. Carson Coyote, his eyes gleaming like the polished knives he threw with deadly precision, waited by the wagon. The clatter of hooves and the creak of wagon wheels were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the night. Harmony squinted, trying to focus her blurry vision on the shadowy figure atop the wagon. Her heart sank as she recognized the silhouette of Windstorm, tethered and seemingly docile over at the other side where she left the mare. If Windstorm woke up by the time the drug wore off, she would not be able to follow or help her.

"Toss her up here," Grizzly ordered, his gruff voice cutting through the silence like a knife. Harmony felt the ground disappear from under her as Wrangler and Walker unceremoniously hoisted her onto the wagon. She landed with a painful thud, the jolting movement sending another wave of dizziness crashing over her. The wagon smelled of stale hay and sweat—a stark contrast to the clean scent of Windstorm's saddle that she had grown so accustomed to.

Carson Coyote sat at the driver's seat, his hands poised over the reins, his eyes never leaving Harmony's. He had a wild look in his eyes, one that spoke of a lifetime of surviving in the harsh wilderness and the lawless lands of Moo Mesa. His whip cracked in the air, and the horses jolted into motion, pulling the wagon along the rough trail that led away from Skinny Brook's mine. Harmony's head lolled to one side, the world outside the wagon a blur of cacti and tumbleweeds. She had to fight to keep her eyes open, to stay aware of her surroundings. But it was a losing battle.

The jostling of the wagon was almost soothing in its rhythmic consistency. Harmony felt the whisky's grip tightening around her, pulling her into a dark abyss she knew she couldn't afford to fall into. She had to find a way out, had to warn the town, had to save herself and her reputation. Her thoughts grew hazier with each passing minute, the edges of her vision darkening like a candle flame flickering out. Yet somewhere in the back of her mind, the echo of Clarence HawkTail's words remained strong: "Never give up, Harmony. No matter what."

The wagon lurched to a stop. Harmony heard the sound of booted footsteps approaching, followed by a gruff chuckle. "Looks like our little hawk's had enough for one night," Grizzly's voice sneered. She forced her eyes open, blinking away the fog. The outlaws surrounded her, their faces a blur of malicious smirks and cold, calculating gazes.

Walker held up the whiskey flask, the silver glint of the moon bouncing off its surface. "We'll leave this little gift right beside you," he sneered, tossing it into the wagon. "It'll be the perfect touch."

Her arms remained bound tightly to her sides by Walker's boleadora, and she could feel the ropes cutting into her skin as she struggled to move. The world around her spun as they pulled her off the wagon, her legs giving way beneath her. Harmony's head slammed into the wooden planks of the boardwalk, stars bursting in her vision. The taste of blood filled her mouth. "Take it easy," she slurred, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll come willingly."

They didn't bother to respond, simply hoisting her up and dragging her through the dusty street. The sheriff's office grew closer, the words "Law and Order" carved into the wooden sign above the door taunting her. They threw her to the ground, the flask of whiskey rolling out of the wagon with a hollow clank. "You're gonna regret this, Grizzly," she mumbled, though the words barely left her mouth before she succumbed to the drug's embrace once again.

When she came to, Harmony's head was pounding like a blacksmith's anvil, and the sun was peeking over the horizon, casting long shadows across the boardwalk. The silver bullets that were once tied to her side were gone, replaced with a bag filled with what had to be the stolen diamonds from Skinny Brooks' mine. She tried to sit up, but the world spun, forcing her back down with a groan. The whiskey flask lay a few feet away, the cap unscrewed, the scent of its contents wafting in the early morning air. Her wrists were raw and bloody where the ropes had been.

Through the haze, she heard the clank of spurs and the murmur of voices. The door to the sheriff's office swung open, and she squinted into the light to see Sheriff Bruiser, his usual gruff expression replaced with one of cold anger. "Well, if it ain't the little hawk who thinks she's above the law," he said, his voice thick with accusation. "You've gone and done it now, Harmony."

Her heart sank as she saw the other townsfolk from Skinny Brook gathered outside the jail cell, their eyes filled with disappointment and confusion. "What are these charges?" she demanded, her voice hoarse from the dryness of her throat. "I'm the one who stopped the heist!"

Sheriff Bruiser's expression didn't waver. "The evidence says otherwise, Miss HawkTail. We found you passed out with these diamonds and a half-empty bottle of whiskey." He held up the bag of diamonds, the light catching the gems and making them sparkle in the early dawn. "Looks like you had quite the night."

The townsfolk outside murmured among themselves, and Harmony could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on her. "It's a setup!" she protested, her voice growing stronger. "The Rough Riders are behind this! You have to believe me!"

Sheriff Bruiser's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to take the word of a drunken thief? You've got a lot of explaining to do, Harmony." He tossed the bag of diamonds into the cell, and they landed with a clatter at her feet. "For now, you're under arrest for the theft of Skinny Brooks' mine, and for resisting arrest." Then he turned to the same empty bottle of whisky found beside her, noticing the price tag was still in place, meaning it was stolen from the general store. "And for theft of town property."

The townsfolk of Skinny Brook stared at her, their expressions a mix of shock and betrayal. Harmony felt a knot in her stomach. "I never stole anything!" she protested. "You know me, Sheriff. You know I'd never do this!" But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. The Rough Riders had played her perfectly, and she had walked right into their trap. Somehow, they made the whole thing believable, from the whiskey to the stolen jewels. "Where's my horse Windstorm? I need to check up on her."

Sheriff Bruiser sighed heavily. "Your horse is safe, for now in the stable. The town doctor is taking care of her. But if you're found guilty, she'll be sold to cover the cost of the stolen goods and damages." The door slammed shut, the echo bouncing around the small cell. Harmony's eyes searched the room for any sign of escape. The bars were thick, the lock sturdy. She knew she had to get out and clear her name before the town turned against her entirely.

"Wait, I must call Falcon!" Harmony exclaimed, desperation lacing her voice. "He'll know it's a setup! He can help me!"

Sheriff Bruiser folded his arms across his broad chest. "Already sent for him. But until then, you're in my custody. And I don't take too kindly to accused thieves." He turned on his heel and stomped out of the office, leaving Harmony to stew in her own fear and anger.

"No wait, come back!" Harmony's voice echoed off the bars, but her pleas were met with the sound of retreating boots and the creak of the office door. The metal bit into her skin, a cold, unyielding reminder of her newfound captivity. The cell was small, the walls closing in around her as panic began to set in. "This ain't right!" she shouted to the empty room, her voice bouncing off the wooden walls and disappearing into the dusty corners of the jail.

The chains that bound her rattled with each fruitless tug, and she winced at the pain, her eyes scanning the room for anything she could use to escape. The cell was sparse, with only a single bunk and a bucket in the corner, the stench of despair lingering like a thick fog. Harmony's mind raced, trying to piece together the events of the night before. The Rough Riders, the mine, the whiskey, the stolen diamonds... it was all a blur, a nightmare she desperately wanted to wake up from. Worse yet is what would her mother Ruby think? Becky, Baron, and Callahan? The very people she had sworn to protect now believed her to be a common criminal. They must believe that she was framed, she assured herself, but the evidence was damning, and Falcon was miles away in Avian City.

"Windstorm, they can't sell you," Harmony murmured, her eyes brimming with tears. Her thoughts drifted back to her mother's worried face and Becky's proud gaze. What would they think now? The cell grew colder as doubt began to seep into her heart. "They can't take you away from me," she whispered to the empty space. She loved Windstorm like family, and the thought of losing her was unbearable. Same as losing everyone else she loved.

The clank of spurs and the heavy tread of boots brought her out of her desperate thoughts. The jail door swung open, and in strode Sheriff Bruiser, his face a mask of disappointment. His eyes met hers, and she saw the unspoken accusation in them. "I know it wasn't me," she said firmly, her voice carrying the conviction she felt deep in her soul. "Someone's playing a dirty trick, Sheriff."

"You've always had a silver tongue, Harmony HawkTail," he replied, his voice gruff but not entirely unkind. "But until I can figure out who's behind this, you're going to have to stay put." He gestured to the chains that held her. "Can't have the town's hero running around with a price on her head, now can we?" His words were a knife to her heart, but she nodded, swallowing her pride.

Time dragged on in the suffocating cell, each second a lifetime of doubt and fear. Harmony's mind raced through scenarios of how she could clear her name, each more desperate than the last. Her eyes never left the door, hopeful for any sign of rescue. When the sun had reached its zenith, casting a single beam of light through the small, barred window, she heard the jingle of keys and the sound of the lock turning. The door swung open with a heavy groan, and in stepped Sheriff Bruiser, his eyes weary but determined.

"Looks like you've had some time to think," he said, his gruff voice carrying a hint of sympathy. "I've got to admit, I never figured you for a thief, Harmony. But the evidence... it's pretty damning." He paused, his gaze searching hers for any sign of deceit, but finding only the fiery resolve of an innocent soul. "The town's in an uproar, and I've got to keep things under control until we get to the bottom of this." Although Sheriff Bruiser wanted to believe that Harmony wasn't responsible for the diamond theft, he had to put his job first and the town's safety above all else. "Falcon is here to see you."

Falcon McGriff, the gambler-turned-sheriff, stepped into the dimly lit cell, his eyes locking onto Harmony's. The weight of his gaze bore into her very soul, and she felt a flicker of hope. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice tight with anger. "Why are you in here?" Harmony took a deep breath, recounting the events of the night, her voice shaking with the intensity of her emotions. Falcon listened, his expression a mix of shock and concern. He knew her well enough to know that she would never betray the town or her father's legacy.

"Falcon, thank goodness you're here!" Harmony exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and desperation. "It's the Rough Riders that did this! You have to believe me!" She knew what a mistake it was trying to solve this diamond mine mystery on her own without suspecting that it was a trap. "You were right Falcon; I never should have left Avian City on my own without your help. Now look where I am."

Falcon's heart sank as he heard the words of his young protégé, the girl who had become like a daughter to him. He knew her spirit was pure, her intentions unblemished by greed or malice. "I do believe you, Harmony," he said firmly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But the law is the law, and until we can prove your innocence, you have to remain here." His eyes searched hers, trying to convey the gravity of the situation without crushing her spirit. "I'll do everything in my power to find the real culprits, but you must have patience and trust in me." Earlier, he had snapped due to his anger, not at her, but at the injustice of the situation, knowing the real criminals were still out there and somehow did a good job making the false evidence look convincing enough for Skinny Brook to doubt her.

"They forced alcohol down my throat, and the smell is still in my feathers," Harmony said, her voice filled with disgust as she recounted the night's events to Falcon. "They wanted to make sure I couldn't remember anything." Falcon's eyes narrowed as he digested the information, his mind racing to connect the dots. The Rough Riders had always been crafty, but this was a new low, even for them. "And Windstorm...if I'm found guilty, they're gonna sell her off to pay for the damages." She burst into tears, her voice cracking with despair. Falcon's grip on her shoulder tightened, his own heart aching for her. He had to find a way to clear her name and fast. "Falcon, please," Harmony pleaded through her tears, her eyes searching his for a spark of understanding. "You're the only one who can help me. You know I'd never betray Avian City or my father's legacy."

Falcon nodded, his expression softening. He knew he had to tread carefully. "I'll look into this, I promise," he said, his voice steady. "But you must trust the law's process, even though it's painful." And even if Sheriff Bruiser did not believe Harmony right now, he would keep talking with him on what else he could do to help. "Your father would want that too." Before he could reluctantly leave the cell, Falcon needed for her to make a promise. "And Harmony, promise me that you won't try to escape. That won't help your case, no matter how tempting it may be."

Harmony nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. "I promise, Falcon," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But hurry. I don't know how much more of this I can take." Falcon's own heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, but he knew that he couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment. He had to be the law that Clarence had taught him to be, even if it meant watching the child he had grown to love suffer behind bars for the time being. "And Falcon, I'm sorry for not trustin' your judgement on lettin' you or someone else come with me." She added with a sniff, "But I wanted to prove that I could handle myself alone."

Falcon sighed heavily, "Harmony, that's what we're all worried about. Sometimes, you're too headstrong for your own good." He hated to sound harsh at a time like this, but it was a lesson she needed to learn. "But I understand. Now, let's focus on what we can do to set things right." He stepped back from the cell, giving her a small, reassuring smile.

The sheriff walked into the dusty main street of Skinny Brook, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the wooden buildings. The townsfolk whispered among themselves, their eyes following him as he made his way to the sheriff's office. Falcon felt the weight of their doubt, but he was determined to clear Harmony's name. He knew that the law was the backbone of their society, but he also knew that sometimes, it could be bent by the hands of the cunning and the ruthless. Even abused by those who were meant to uphold it.

Once inside, Falcon found Sheriff Bruiser, a burly bull with a thick mustache and a stern gaze. The room smelled faintly of tobacco and sweat, and the walls were adorned with wanted posters of various outlaws. Falcon took off his hat and placed it on the counter, his eyes meeting Bruiser's. "Sheriff, I need to talk to you about Harmony HawkTail," he said firmly. "There's been a mistake. She couldn't have tried to steal those diamonds."

Bruiser leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his barrel chest. "Now, Falcon, don't go gettin' all riled up. We've got eye witnesses and solid evidence," he drawled, tapping a hoof on the desk. "But if you've got something that'll clear her name, I'm all ears."

Falcon pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, his mind racing. "It's those Rough Riders," he said, leaning in. "They've been out causin' trouble across Moo Mesa for months now. I've heard of what they're capable of, and I'd bet my feathers that they're the ones behind this heist."

Sheriff Bruiser's eyes narrowed slightly. "You got any proof, McGriff? Based on what the others told me, she was caught red-handed, or should I say, talon-handed," he said with a hint of skepticism. "I left my office after her visitation for some time to go check up on the miners in the saloon. They've been all shook up, and I need to calm 'em down."

Falcon leaned in even further, his voice low and earnest. "Naw, I ain't got no proof yet, but I got this gut feelin' in my bones. Harmony's like a daughter to me; I know she ain't the type to pull somethin' like this. If ya'll let me take her in, I'll make sure she don't wander off 'til we figure this here mess out." He paused, weighing his words carefully. "And if she did do it, she'll face the music, I promise."

Sheriff Bruiser studied him for a moment, the silence in the room thick as molasses. Finally, he spoke, "Alright, Falcon. You've got my word that she'll be treated fairly, but I can't just let her go without proper cause. You've got two days to bring me somethin' concrete, or she'll be standin' trial come sunrise on the third mornin'. Can you do that for me?" He needed Falcon to understand why he had to put the law first and not let his slight sympathy and personal feelings get in the way, especially with the townsfolk still skeptical of the situation with what other witnesses saw when they found her unconscious, holding the stolen goods. And with no proof of the Rough Riders being in the mines, that makes Harmony's claim sound like a desperate attempt to keep her badge and title as the town's beloved hero to cover her crimes.

Falcon nodded, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "I'll get it done, Sheriff. You can count on it." He knew he had his work cut out for him. The Rough Riders weren't known for leaving loose ends, but he had to find something, anything, to prove Harmony's innocence. "In the meantime, at least allow her other friends and family to visit her," Falcon requested. "They're worried sick, and she's gonna need all the support she can get."

Sheriff Bruiser grunted, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Fine," he said, after a moment's consideration. "But keep it civil. No funny business. We don't need any more trouble in this town." Falcon nodded solemnly, standing up and tipping his hat before he left the office.

As Falcon approached the jailhouse, the weight of the situation settled heavily upon his shoulders. Harmony had always been a straight shooter, and he couldn't believe she'd stray from the path her father had set her on. He stepped inside, the heavy door creaking on its hinges. The air was thick with the scent of dust and despair. His eyes searched the dimly lit room, finally settling on Harmony's small form huddled in a cell at the back. She looked up as he approached, hope flickering in her eyes.

"Falcon," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "Please, tell me you know something."

Falcon leaned in close, his eyes searching hers. "I talked to Sheriff Bruisher," he said in a low voice. "He's agreed to give us two days to find proof of the Rough Riders' involvement." He handed her a piece of paper with a hastily scrawled message. "This is where they're likely to hide out. You know the place?"

"Where did you find this?" Harmony's voice was a mix of disbelief and hope as she took the paper from Falcon's hand, her eyes scanning the hastily scribbled location.

"I've had my ear to the ground," Falcon replied, his voice just above a murmur. "Rumor has it that the Rough Riders have been seen around the old, abandoned goldmine up in the hills, miles from here." His gaze was intense, filled with a silent message that conveyed the gravity of the situation. "You're gonna have to stay strong, Harmony. We're gonna get you out of here."

The jailhouse clock ticked away the moments, each second a painful reminder of the ticking clock. Harmony took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "I know you will, Falcon," she murmured, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "But I can't just sit here and do nothing. What can I do to help?" Her wrists were still chained to prevent escape, but her spirit remained unshackled. "Am I still allowed visitation rights?"

Falcon nodded, his eyes gleaming with a hint of strategy. "Yes, you are. And I've got a feeling that might just be the key to our plan." He leaned closer, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet space. "Silas and Becky are worried sick. They want to help, but we've got to be smart about it. Baron's been keeping an eye on things, too." He paused, his gaze lingering on her. "But if the Rough Riders think we're onto them, they might do something stupid."

The mention of Baron's name brought a flicker of warmth to Harmony's eyes. Despite the tension, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude for her childhood friend. "Baron's always had my back," she murmured. "I can't lie to him about this, Falcon. He deserves to know the truth."

Falcon's eyes softened, understanding the complexity of the friendship between Harmony and Baron. "You're right," he conceded. "But we need to play our cards close to the vest. We can't risk tipping them off." He straightened, his expression resolute. "When Silas and Becky come to visit, tell them to play along. We need to keep everyone focused on the trial and not the fact that we're looking for the real culprits."

Harmony nodded solemnly, the weight of her promise heavy on her shoulders. "I won't let you down, Falcon." Her gaze drifted to the barred window, where the setting sun cast long shadows across the dusty floor. "I'll be patient and bide my time. But I can't let Windstorm suffer because of me. We need to move quickly."

Falcon placed a comforting hand on Harmony's shoulder. "I know how much that mare means to you, Harmony," he said gently. "But we can't let our emotions cloud our judgment. You're a HawkTail, and you come from a line of strong, just folks. Your pa wouldn't want you to give up now."

Harmony took a deep breath, the words of her mentor sinking in. She knew he was right. Her father, Clarence HawkTail, had always been the beacon of hope and justice in Avian City. His memory was a constant reminder of the path she needed to walk. "I won't," she vowed, her voice steady. "I'll do whatever it takes to set things right."

Falcon squeezed her shoulder before turning to leave. "Good," he said firmly. "Remember, you're not in this alone. We'll find the evidence, and you'll get Windstorm back." He held her hands in his for a brief moment, his gaze conveying the unspoken promise of his support. With a nod, he opened the door, and two stern-faced men in sheriff's badges stepped in, their boots echoing against the stone floor.

"Sheriff McGriff," one of them said, his voice clipped and authoritative. "It's time for us to take over. We've been assigned to watch Miss HawkTail until the trial." Falcon's expression tightened, but he nodded curtly, recognizing the need for protocol.

As the two burly bovine men stepped into the cell, Harmony felt a surge of anger. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the Rough Riders' gang emblem stitched onto their vests - a skull with a pair of six-shooters crossing beneath it. It was a stark contrast to the familiar gold star that Falcon had worn proudly. She bit her tongue, reminding herself of the need for patience.

The taller of the two, with a name tag that read 'Deputy Buford', took a step closer, his gaze cold and unyielding. "You heard the sheriff," he said gruffly. "Time's up. You ain't got nothin' more to say to her." Falcon met Harmony's eyes one last time, a silent understanding passing between them. He nodded slightly, as if to say 'stay strong'. With one last look at the young hawk, he turned and left the cell, his footsteps growing faint until the door clanked shut behind him.

Harmony's heart sank as she watched him go. The two new guards looked at her from outside the bars, their expressions a mix of curiosity and contempt. The shorter one, 'Deputy Clayton', spoke up. "You know the drill, Missy. No funny business." He sneered. Harmony nodded, her eyes never leaving theirs. She knew she couldn't afford any slip-ups now.

AN: Now it appears that the Rough Riders have succeeded in framing Harmony for a crime that she did not commit, and they did too much of a good job making the false evidence look believable once dropping her off at the sheriff's office in Skinny Brook. And when someone is framed, the hardest thing to do is finding the right evidence to prove their innocence, otherwise without it, the accused will still be seen as guilty as seen in many cases, which is how the law works unfortunately. If Brandon Wishford saw what was happening, he would sure hate it and be hurt by what has happened with Harmony in the past. But for now, she has Sheriff Falcon and her other friends to do their best to help out.