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Chapter Text

The blistering heat of the infamous desert town known as La Sol Automatica caused waves to ripple through the air, distorting the distant image of the landscape. Tumbleweeds skipped down the dusty ground and flew free as the wind blew them every direction. The landscape of it was much more peaceful than what was happening from within.

A well-known and well-respected saloon was the heart of the town, bustling with cowboys and cowgirls from across the county. The wooden sign outside the establishment read in a ragged burnt-wood fashion, ‘Hell You Call a Drink’.

Inside, multitudes of people kept their cowboy hats on the bars and tables to enjoy drinks and socialize with the locals. Some holding beers, some holding whiskeys, some even holding a few brisk shots. The interior was made up of warm oak wood flooring that contained a few uneven planks that stuck up as it expanded and shrunk in the weather, and dark green walls plastered with a fake gilded gold design that was beginning to wither away in it’s elder condition.

Sitting behind the oak bar, a tall dark-haired woman stood there in a white shirt mixing drinks, her hat resting above her short shoulder-length hair. She searched the shelves behind her for a specific whiskey a local had always asked for once he walked in. The whiskey was a dark umber, a strong taste that could possibly burn tastebuds with the alcohol concentrate being so high. The woman pulled out a glass from below the bar, and began to fill the glass in front of him.

At the antique piano, a red-haired girl sat down, placing her straw cowboy hat on the corner of the music stand attached to the instrument, stretching her hands as she prepared a classic piece for the masses within the saloon. She cracked her knuckles, then set her fingers gently onto the correct keys. The girl took one deep breath, before the walls of the saloon echoed with an upbeat and energetic tune. Some people watched, some people only listened, and some people didn’t acknowledge it at all.

The final owner, a blonde girl, cleaned off the vacant tables with a wet rag and a steel bucket of water she dropped it into every so often. She hummed to the tune that her red-headed sister was playing, and lost herself in it as she worked from table to table.

As the song progressed, the black-haired girl spotted a man far too drunk for this time of the day begin to stumble over to her sister at the piano. She squinted, curious on what was unfolding in front of her while she washed a glass with a rag.

”Howdy, Pau—“ He fumbled over his words, leaning against the piano with his left palm. Pau stayed vigilant as she could smell the beer in his breath, but continued playing as she glanced at him. He began again, hiccuping every few words. “I got a— tune request…”

Pau shook her head, speaking a little louder over the music. “Sorry, not taking requests today. Come back later tonight.”

The man huffed, “Come on! Just one song can’t hurt, honey.”

Pau cringed at the name, “Don’t ‘honey’ me.”

”One song.” He doubled down.

Pau felt as the blood crept to her cheeks, “Sorry partner, ain’t happenin’.” She shrugged it off, looking back at the music in front of her.

The man grumbled. In a fit of rage he swept the music sheets off the stand, which knocked Pau’s prized hat off in the process. She stopped the music, standing up as the piano throne tipped back and landed with an echoing slam on the oak floor. “Are we gonna have a problem?!” She spoke up, the man still towering over her based on her short height. It was easy for her to be underestimated, but the drunken man had not put that into perspective. He believed he could take her.

People around them went silent, looking at the scene in intense focus, desperately wanting the scene to escalate like they were watching some sort of dramatic play.

The man tilted his head, “What’cha gonna do about it… honey…?”

Pau made the first hit, punching the drunk man across the jaw, a tooth spatting through his lips.

Everyone cheered as the fight began, the two exchanging heavy blows, though it looked like the short woman was winning by a staggeringly large margin. The man fell to the floor after the first few impacts, and it lead to a complete outrage.

Other patrons within the bar indulged in the chaos. Flipping tables, throwing drinks, cracking glasses on craniums, the whole thing was turning into a mess. The black haired one quickly dove for cover underneath the bar, not wanting to get involved in the unnecessary brawl.

The blonde, left with no choice after a man had accidentally splashed a beer over her shirt, dove into the hurricane of chaos head-first.

She landed a few hits on a few of the customers, but it would be lie to say she would be leaving it unscathed.

A big and burly guy, most likely a farmer, grabbed her by the shirt, lifting her in the air. Dany struggled in his grip, pushing her fingernails into his skin in hope it would cause him to let go, but his arms were like tree trunks. Dany got tossed like a bowling ball into a nearby table, causing it to crack. She groaned in pain and was left in a temporary dazed state.

Pau felt herself get pulled off the man by the belt, getting swung into the side of the table. Her side ached in pain yet it was quickly suppressed by the adrenaline. She turned around and used the momentum to land a hit on a guy square in the nose, blood spewing out almost instantly. “Watch it!” She huffed.

The sudden gunshot caused everyone’s heart to skip a beat, their hearts stopping for a second. Turning to the source, it was the dark-haired girl holding her Colt pistol at the ceiling, a warning shot had been fired. “Everyone, out.”

The door to the saloon swung open almost on queue, a tall man with a well-kept mustache and a shiny badge on his vest had emerged into the room. He placed his hands on his belt loops, then projected his voice across the entire bar to make sure he was heard. “Enough is enough, I need y’all to come with me, and I ain’t gon’ ask twice.”

Pau huffed, rolling her eyes and letting go of a guy she had by the shirt collar, tossing him to the ground as his legs shook in utter fear and shock.

”Perfect, just what we wanted.”

Chapter Text

The midday sun beat down on the dry, dusty town as Ale, Pau, and Dany stepped out of the saloon, the echoes of their reckless bar fight still ringing in their ears. Their luck had held, and the sheriff—either amused with their audacity or simply not wanting to deal with the paperwork—had let them off with a warning.

Ale stretched, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the tension of the last hour. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

Pau huffed. “Could’ve gone better, too. That drunk bastard deserved what he got.”

Dany shot her a look. “You caused a scene in there, Paulina.”

“His fault,” Pau muttered, kicking a loose rock in the street.

They had barely walked a few paces when a tattered poster on the town’s main notice board caught Ale’s sharp eyes. The parchment was worn from the desert winds, but the image was clear enough—a rough, hand-drawn sketch of a man with cold eyes and a jagged scar running down the side of his face. The name beneath it read Jesse Calloway, and the bounty was set at a staggering $5,000—more than enough to fund their next few months on the road, maybe enough to buy a permanent place to stay.

Pau let out a low whistle. “Now that's a prize.”

Dany scanned the small text at the bottom. “Last seen near Black Hollow. Likely armed and dangerous. No known hideout.” She sighed, already anticipating where this was going.

Ale smirked, already forming a plan. “I say we find him.”

Dany arched a brow. “Find him where? No one’s seen him.”

Pau was already a step ahead, pointing toward the fine print. “Says here he was last spotted near Moore’s Dry Goods.” She jerked her chin toward the small store at the end of the street, its wooden sign swaying in the breeze.

Ale clapped her hands together. “Alright. Pau, Dany—you go talk to the store owner. See if they know anything.”

“And you?” Dany asked.

Ale shrugged. “I got a shift to cover at the saloon. Can’t afford to lose my spot behind the bar—might hear something useful.”

Pau scoffed but didn’t argue. Ale had a way of picking up information from the drunks and travelers that passed through, and if Jesse Calloway had been anywhere near town recently, someone would have talked about it over whiskey.

With their plan set, they split ways—Ale heading toward the bustling saloon while Pau and Dany stalked down the street toward Moore’s Dry Goods

The inside of the general store smelled of dry cornmeal and sun-warmed leather. Shelves lined the narrow space, stocked with everything from canned goods to shotgun shells, and behind the wooden counter stood a wiry old man with a deeply lined face and sharp, suspicious eyes.

Dany approached first, keeping her tone friendly, taking off her beige cowboy hat and placing it over her heart. “Afternoon, sir. We were hoping to ask you about something.”

The store owner eyed them both, suspicion creeping onto his expression. “Depends what you’re askin’.”

Pau stepped up beside her sister, her hat casting a shadow over her eyes, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Jesse Calloway.”

The old man stiffened—so slightly that most wouldn’t have noticed. But Dany saw it. Pau saw it, too.

“We heard he was last seen ‘round here,” Dany continued. “Maybe you sold him something? Or saw where he went after?”

The owner's expression settled into something more unreadable. “Can’t say I did. And even if I did, wouldn’t be none of my business to say.”

Pau’s jaw tightened. “Ain’t about business, old man. That bastard’s got a price on his head.”

The owner sniffed. “Price don’t concern me. My store stays neutral. Folks come and go I don’t keep track of ‘em.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Pau, never known for her patience, leaned across the counter, gripping the edge so tight her knuckled whitened. “You expect us to believe that?” she demanded. “A man worth five thousand dollars walks into your shop, and you just forget?”

Dany saw the flicker of fear in the old man’s eyes, but still, he held firm.

“I don’t want trouble,” he said, his voice measured.

Pau’s temper snapped. She lunged over the counter, snatching the man by his shirtfront and yanking him forward. Items clattered from the shelves, and the store owner gasped as her grip tightened.

"You already got trouble," Pau growled. "Now tell me where he went, or—"

"Pau!"

Dany’s voice was sharp, her hands already reaching for her sister.

“Let go of him!”

Paulina hesitated, eyes blazing, but Dany was already pulling her back. She wrested Pau’s grip loose and shoved her away before turning back to the stunned, panting shopkeeper.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, her voice still edged with frustration. “We just need information.”

The man straightened his clothes, rubbing his throat. “I got nothin’ for you.”

Dany exhaled through her nose, then nodded. “Alright, we’re leaving.”

Pau scowled, fists still clenched, but she let Dany steer her toward the door.

As they stepped outside, Pau let out a low, frustrated growl. “He knows something.”

Dany sighed. “Maybe. But scarin’ the hell out of him ain’t gonna get him to talk.”

Pau kicked a loose wooden board on the sidewalk. “So what now?”

Dany adjusted her hat and glanced back to the saloon. “Now? We see if Ale had better luck.”

Back at the saloon, Alejandra wiped down the bar, her ears tuned to the conversations around her. Travelers, gamblers, and drifters talked in hushed tones, their words mixing with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter.

Most of it was useless. Town gossip. Complaints about the heat. Talk of a big poker game happening that night.

Then she caught it.

“Calloway?” a deep voice muttered a few stools down. “Yeah, I heard he was hiding out near the old mine, probably holed up good now.”

Ale’s hand stilled on the glass she was polishing. Slowly, casually, she turned her head toward the man speaking—a burly cowboy nursing a whiskey.

“That so?” his companion asked.

“That’s what I heard. Ain’t no one dumb enough to go after him, though.”

Ale’s lips twitched into a small smirk.

They hadn’t met the three of them yet.

As Ale wiped down the bar, her faithful Austrailian Cattle Dog, Whiskey, lounged near her feet, ears perked for any signs of trouble. The speckled blue-grey dog had been with her for years, sharp-eyed and just as quick on his feet as his owner.

Now and then, Whiskey would lift his head, nose twitching at the smells of beer and cigar smoke, but he never strayed far. When the conversation about Calloway had reached Ale’s ears, Whiskey must have sensed her interest—his tail gave a single, slow wag as if he, too, knew they were onto something.

Ale reached down absently, scratching behind his ears. “Looks like we got a job, boy,” she murmured. Whiskey let out a quiet huff, settling his head back on his paws.

When Dany and Pau pushed through the saloon doors, Ale was already pouring drinks for two men at the bar, her face unreadable. But as her sisters approached, she flicked her eyes toward the farthest corner of the room, gesturing subtly for them to wait.

They did.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then, finally, Ale finished up and strolled over to their table, sitting down with the lazy confidence of someone who had just won a hand of poker.

She wasn’t about to let $5,000 slip through their fingers.

Chapter Text

The three sisters had discussed their next course of actions for the case.

Dany had planned to return to Moore’s Dry Goods alone, planning to probe the guarded information inside the owner’s head in a more subtle and calmer way, hoping it would not resort in gunfire.

Pau would be going to the nearby gun shop, Revenant Rifles. She figured if the outlaw had been in the area long enough to get a poster put up, he might have been able to snag a few supplies for the road. Finding his purchase record would be a good way to see his next move, and the owner may know where he had gone off to afterward.

Ale would be asking around the town, eventually leading her in what metaphorically was a trail of bread crumbs to the Cabellos de la Sol Automaticas, a horse stable ran by a man who presumably knew many town secrets, as he was born an raised within the town and seemed to be like a local celebrity of sorts.

They knew the hideout, but it would be easier to get the man while he’s out in the open. Venturing down that mine was almost a death wish without the right gear.

***

Pau swung open the door of the store in a dramatic fashion, her figure looming in the blazing sunlight peering through the store. Her bandana was up past her nose, concealing her identity for the most part. This was really not necessary. The store owner, Tommy Revino, was confused at the action, pausing his action of polishing a new Winchester rifle he had just made recently. “Do you need something…?”

”You.” Pau grumbled, stomping up to the counter and slamming a fist on the top of it, “I need your purchase records.”

”Who are you?-”

”None o’ your business, partner.” Pau squinted.

The man noticed how significantly less intimidating she really was, as the height was ruining her tough persona. He sighed defeatedly, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re doing— but if you’re trying to intimidate me, it ain’t workin’.”

”Shit!” Pau groaned, “Listen, I just need to know if there’s a record for Jesse Calloway— please…” She mumbled the last part in a sense of defeat. She really tried, she really did. “I’m lookin’ for him.”

The man dug around a crate below the counter, before pulling out a roughly-kept folder and sliding out a paper with the name ‘JESSE C.’ written in ink. Based on the sheet, the man had definitely been in town, two days ago. He bought a few bullet packs, a few small sheets of cow hide, and new Winchester rifle. The information was not entirely useless, but not entirely useful either.

Pau inspected the paper, then looked up at the man and tried to see if there was more to the story, “Did you see where he went?”

”Not a clue, he was in and out in a hurry.” The man didn’t flinch or think on the question, which made Pau believe that he was telling the truth. She nodded. “Do you know any information revolving around this guy? Like, where he came from… his wealth… that sort of area?”

Revino pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows, thinking hard about the guy. “No… not that I recall.” He shook his head.

Pau sighed, standing back up straight, “Do you mind if I take this with me?”

”Nope, if you’re inferring you’re using this to catch the fella.” He slid the paper across the surface, offering it to Pau.

She snatched the paper, and began her exit from the store. She was disappointed with the mundaneness, but her gut feeling told her there was more to this story. More than she could see with a naked eye and a blind knowledge of the man.

***

Dany strutted into the Dry Goods store once more, prepared to get the answers Pau was so determined to get the night before. The owner looked up as he heard the door open, noticing the familiar cowgirl. “Great… you again…” He mumbled.

”Glad my partner ain’t here today sir, she’d gut out your throat.” She squinted, approaching the counter and leaning against it, “We know you’re hidin’ something, hotshot, and we ain’t gonna let it go this easy.”

”What would make me tell you anything about that damn Jesse, anyways?” He squinted at her, “I could have you out of this store so fast, don’t tempt me to pull.” He set his hand firmly on the handle of his pistol, ready to draw at any moment.

”You think a little pistol like that scares me, partner?” She chuckled. “I’ve seen rats tougher than you.”

The man snarled, “I’ve seen baby cattle more threatening than you.”

Dany slowly reached for her pistol, “Tell me what you know, and maybe your heart won't be hollowed out by the bullet from this barrel.” She tapped the yellow handle, feeling the engraved sun in the grooves of the wood. “We can leave unharmed, sir.”

The gaze was stone cold, both putting up what felt like unbreakable fronts. Both sets of eyes returned daggers to the other, they couldn’t tell if their eyes were stinging from the dust in the air or the fact that they had not blinked for what felt like several minutes.

The man began to tremble, the walls of steel willpower falling in front of him, “Godammit, fine…” He mumbled, dropping his hand from his pistol. “I saw him, alright?”

Dany nodded, “Go on…?”

”Told me to keep it a secret, hush money, I guess. He bought one of my lock picks and some gunpowder. I don’t know what he planned… can’t be anything good though.”

”Lock pick…” Dany put a finger to her chin, thinking it over. “As in one for doors…? Or ones for safes?”

”Both.” The man replied.

Dany sighed, “Well then… this is better than nothin’.” She began to make her way out of the shop, “Thanks for your difficulties— will use this information as well as I can.”

”Good luck.” He nodded.
***

Ale took a glance at the sign above the stables, ‘Cabellos de la Sol Automatica’. Her bandana was up to cover her face, and her had hid a majority of her hair. She didn’t want her demands of information of this outlaw to trace back to the girl who worked in the saloon.

She entered the stable, spotting the old man people had been talking about, cleaning out a horse stable and sweeping the loose hay out of it. He had thin strands of gray hair in clumps, like his hair was beginning to fall out from old age, a plump build, and a height most likely shorter than Pau.

”Howdy, sir.” She spoke in a voice slightly deeper than her own.

The man perked up at the sound, turning around to see Ale in front of him. “Oh! Hello ma’am. D’you need a horse? Or are you pickin’ up your own?”

”No horse.” She shook her head, setting her thumbs on her belt loops to appear slightly larger and stronger than she was, “Just information.”

He tilted his head, a humble chuckle leaving his lips. “Information? Oh please, did them locals tell you I was an ancient bible of history to this goddamn town?”

Ale furrowed her eyebrows, confused on what the man was implying. Were they lying? Did they think of the wrong guy?

”Listen, girl, I ain’t no gossip newspaper, but I’ve seen a fair share of things… don’t mean I know the answer to ‘em.” He set the broom up against the wall, then walked up to properly face Ale.

Ale stuttered ”I don’t know what you mean—“

“Oh please, you’re tryin’ to look for that Jesse aren’t ya? Your get-up jus’ screams ‘yer out for business and only business.” He inspected Ale’s appearance. The bandana, the ghostly colors of her hat, and the pistol kept in her holster. “I don’t know anything about the man, sorry.”

”’Told me you did… locals made it clear.” She started to cross her arms, tilting her head to see if she could probe the guy a bit more.

”I’m sorry, I just don’t know.” He shrugged, going to retrieve his broom. The avoidant tone in his voice made Ale suspicious, like he didn’t want to talk. He knew, she knew he knew, and he knew she wanted to know what he knew.

”You’re lying.” Ale blurted out, her brain flooding with too many thoughts that they trickled down her tongue. She bit it back quickly, her tongue caught in her teeth. The man gave her a glare, one that warned her not to push, yet she couldn’t, not with five thousand dollars on the line. “Tell me.” She demanded, “Why are you keeping this such a secret? You know if you’re shelterin’ him I’ll have no choice but to turn you in, maybe I’ll get a reward for that too,”

”You need to leave.” He huffed, his voice growing darker in a tone that meant Ale had hit too close to the mark. Now, she was really going to press.

”No. You have to tell me. I can tell you’re hiding something.” Ale pressed again, her voice growing in assertiveness, determined for the answer.

The man knew he had no way to back out of this situation, not with Ale standing in front of him. He let out a sigh of defeat, submitting to the test of willpower. “Pull up a chair.”

Chapter Text

The late afternoon light cast a golden glow over Cabellos de la Sol Automatica, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the still air. The stable smelled of fresh hay, worn leather, and the familiar musk of horses—peaceful, comforting, like something preserved from another time.

The wooden chair creaked under Alejandra as she settled into it, one boot resting on the edge of the table. Across from her, the man—Colton, as he called himself—leaned forward, hands clasped together. A lantern flickered between them, casting long shadows that stretched across the dusty stable floor.

Ale didn’t speak first. She knew how to play this game. Silence could be louder than words, heavier than accusations. So she waited, watching as the older man wrestled with whatever storm brewed inside him.

Colton exhaled, rubbing a rough hand over his face. He was worn down, lines of regret etched deep into his skin. “Damn shame,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “A damn shame of what’s become of him.”

Ale stayed quiet. She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about Jesse Calloway just yet.

Colton’s fingers tapped against the table, restless. “Jesse…”

Ale nodded. “That bounty ain’t gonna claim itself.”

Colton let out a bitter laugh. “Five thousand dollars on his head. He always wanted to be worth something…just not like this.”

Something in his voice shifted—grief creeping in, old and buried, but never gone. His eyes flickered to Ale’s, searching for something. Maybe permission to keep going. Maybe a reason not to.

“He’s my son,” Colton admitted, voice raw.

Ale didn’t react at first. It wasn’t entirely unexpected—there had been something in the way the man hesitated earlier, the way his eyes had darkened when Jesse’s name was spoken. But hearing him say it out loud? That was different.

Colton sat back, eyes shining with something close to shame. “I ain’t said that name in years. Not since I made him leave.”

Ale finally spoke. “Why’d you do it?”

Colton’s jaw tightened. He swallowed hard. “Because I couldn’t look at him without seein’ the man he was becomin’. And I sure as hell couldn’t stop him.”

A deep silence fell between them.

Colton ran a hand through his graying hair. “Jesse… he was a good boy, once. Smart. Strong-willed. But his mama died young, and after that, he changed.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe I did, too. I tried to raise him right, but he started fallin’ in with the wrong folk. Robbers. Outlaws. The kind of men that don’t have a place in a decent world.”

Ale watched as the man’s shoulders sagged further.

“When I found out he’d been runnin’ jobs for Thomas Revand, I had to make a choice. Either I let my boy turn into a killer under my own roof… or I cut him loose.” Colton’s voice cracked, but he forced himself to finish. “So I told him he wasn’t my son no more. That if he walked out that door, he wasn’t welcome back.”

Ale stayed quiet, letting the weight of the words settle.

Colton shook his head. “He didn’t beg. Didn’t fight me on it. Just left.” He exhaled like he had been holding his breath for years. “I changed my name after that. Couldn’t bear to be tied to him. Figured that if I erased the name, maybe I could erase the guilt.”

Ale’s fingers drummed against the table. She’d heard stories like this before. Fathers abandoning children, men leaving their pasts behind like they could just outrun the truth.

A soft thud of paws against wooden floorboards made Ale glance toward the stable’s entrance. A second later, Whiskey trotted inside, his keen eyes scanning the room before locking onto Ale. His speckled coat was dusted from the road, and his tail wagged once as he approached.

Colton’s gaze flickered to the dog. “That yours?”

Ale nodded, running a hand down Whiskey’s back as he settled beside her. “Always knows where to find me.”

Colton sighed. “Good dog.”

Whiskey sniffed at the air, ears twitching. Ale felt him press against her leg, a small, almost imperceptible movement—like he was sensing something she wasn’t.

She studied Colton again. There was no doubt in her mind that the grief was real. The regret, the loss—it sat on him like a weight he’d carried too long. But there was something else, something simmering just beneath the surface.

Ale adjusted her hat. “So, what now?”

Colton blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You told me your piece,” Ale said. “Now I need to know where Jesse is.”

Colton hesitated.

Ale leaned forward slightly, voice quiet but firm. “If you know, Colton, now’s the time to say it.”

Colton let out a slow breath. “I ain’t seen him in years.”

Ale didn’t move, didn’t react.

Whiskey, however, did.

The dog let out a low, uncertain whine. Not aggressive. Not warning. Just… unsettled.

Ale noticed the way Colton tensed at the sound, the way his fingers twitched against the wood of the table.

Something in the air shifted.

Then, without warning, Colton’s hand darted toward his belt.

Ale moved instantly.

Her revolver was up before he could clear leather, aimed squarely at his chest. Colton had his gun halfway drawn, his breath coming quick, his eyes wide.

The stable had gone silent.

Whiskey let out a sharp bark, his hackles raised, ready to lunge.

Colton exhaled through his nose, hand hovering over his pistol but not daring to draw it the rest of the way. “I ain’t lookin’ for a fight, girl.”

Ale’s grip was steady. “Then why’d you go for your gun?”

Colton’s jaw tightened.

Ale kept her voice calm, even. “You’re scared.”

Colton let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah. Maybe I am.”

A long pause.

Then, finally, he released his grip on the pistol and slowly raised his hands. Ale didn’t lower her weapon just yet.

Colton swallowed hard. “Jesse ain’t workin’ alone. He never has.”

Ale narrowed her eyes. “Go on.”

Colton exhaled. “He’s got a crew. He’s got men under him, loyal men. If you go after him, you ain’t just facin’ one outlaw.”

Ale absorbed the information, her fingers flexing against her revolver’s grip.

Colton’s voice dropped lower. “You think I’m afraid of what’s gonna happen to me?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid for you.”

Ale stayed quiet, studying him, the weight of his words settling in.

She finally lowered her gun, but the tension didn’t leave the air.

She stood, adjusting her hat. “You best hope you’re wrong about that.”

Colton rubbed his wrists, shooting Whiskey a weary glance. The dog still hadn’t moved, his watchful eyes locked onto the older man.

Ale turned to leave, whistling for Whiskey. As they stepped out into the night, she mulled over everything she’d just learned.

Jesse Calloway wasn’t just a lone outlaw.

He was building something.

And now, Ale and her sisters were walking straight into it.

Chapter Text

Ale was the last person to return to the saloon, Whiskey following closely at her side. The sun had just passed midday, and the sisters had kept the saloon closed for the day to discuss this matter.

”Well, anything exciting from y’all?” Pau stood behind the counter, reaching for a bottle of whiskey, then setting it on the table. She listened for Dany’s response as she proceeded to grab three glasses from underneath the bar.

Dany sighed. “Jesse paid the shopkeeper to keep his mouth shut of his presence. Can’t imagine he’s done it for others too when he made his supply run.” Dany watched as Pau poured the amber liquid into the first glass, “Then the damn soul ratted him out. Told me he had just invested in some gunpowder and a safe pick.”

Pau passively listened, though the first statement had made her think. Was she just paranoid, or could Jesse had also possibly bribed Tommy with hush money?

“What about you?” Dany brought Pau back to earth, “Did Revenant’s give you anything?”

”Oh! Uh—“ Pau pieced together her words, “Not really… Just his purchase receipt. He didn’t have much. Bullet packs, sheets of cow hide, and Winchester rifle apparently, like he’s tryin’ to steal my brand or somethin’.” She shrugged, gazing at her precious Winchester she had kept underneath the bar for ‘safety’ and when she was about to go out to hunt. She was always in a sense of awe when she looked at it. The sleek dark wood, the silver accents, and the engraved heart she had done herself.

”Pau!” Dany called again, causing Pau’s gaze to return to her sisters. “Geez, stop staring at your rifle like you want to marry it. Was that it…?”

”Yeah, it was.” She nodded, clearing her throat and moving to fill the next cup with whiskey.

Dany took the first full one, taking a sip. The liquid felt like burning embers on a fire going down her throat, but it still had its usual soothing effect on her. Not like she was addicted, of course. “Well then…” Dany sighed, turning to her youngest sister next to her. “You got anything?”

Ale chuckled. “Anything would be an understatement.”

Pau raised her eyebrow, moving to the third glass. “Oh? What does that entail?”

Ale sighed, snatching the second glass. “Went to the stable. ‘Parently was the way to go. The owner knew a lot.” She took the swig, feeling the same blazing sensation in the back of her throat like Dany. “The man refused at first…” She looked down at Whiskey, “Then quickly folded. Told me Jesse was his son, and had been involved in some tough shit before getting kicked out of the family, then Whisk got ‘em good. Sensed he was about to pull a shot off, but I got my pistol up in time.” She scratched behind Whiskey’s ear, seeing his small smile of pride in the situation. Ale smiled back, then returned back to her sisters, “Told me he was tied up with a ‘Thomas Revino’ guy I guess.”

“Thomas Revand…?” Pau perked up.

”What about it?” Dany furrowed her eyebrows.

”Sounds… familiar…” She thought it over, chewing her lip as she thought. “Thomas… Tom… Tommy?” The gears in her brain turned.

Ale replied, “No, you can’t possibly think it’s—“ She chuckled, believing Pau was stretching it too far.

Pau nodded, “I think it’s that lying piece o’ shit alright…” She grumbled, guzzling down the whiskey in the third glass in a fit of rage, slamming it back on the bar with a new look of determination and hatred, “Thomas Revand… Tommy Revino… come on Ale.”

Ale rolled her eyes, “You can’t just go accusing people because their names are similar!”

”Well I just did, Ale!” Pau bit back, “What are you gonna do about it?”

”Pau’s right.” Dany contributed, “We can’t just let this blow over our heads. We need to indulge in every lead we can.”

Ale sighed, “This is a stupid plan.”

”A plan that might work, you never know Ale. Nothing wrong with thinkin’ a little outside the box.” Dany shrugged, downing the rest of her whiskey, cringing at the burning sensation once more as it glided down her throat.

”It’s reckless. That’s all I’m hearing from this.” Ale gripped her glass a little tighter.

”You know me better than this Ale, recklessness is how I thrive. You’ll owe me a thank you and a drink if I’m right.” Pau squinted at Ale, letting the challenge linger in the air.

***

The sisters stood outside Revenant’s Rifles. Their bandanas were up, making sure nobody would guess the suspicion of these hunters to be placed onto their saloon-owning images. Pau was the first to reach the door, wiggling the handle a few times, only for it to not budge. “Damn.” She hissed, proceeding to swing the Winchester rifle on her back into her hands by the strap. She angled the butte of the rifle, preparing to bust their way in.

”Is this necessary?” Ale raised an eyebrow.

”You got a better idea?” Pau bit back, then thrusting the rifle into the door, causing it to open in an ear-piercing crack. The three breached the weapons store, and their culprit looked to be busy with another polishing job. The sound made him freeze. He looked up, seeing the three sisters, recognizing the short one in the middle instantly.

“No… not you again.” He shook his head. “I gave you all I had. No need for you to act so tough.”

“No, you didn’t.” She stomped up to the man once more, “Tell us what you’re hidin’!—“

Dany watched as the man had began to reach for his colt in his waistband. “Pau!” She warned, both Ale and her beginning to draw her own colts. Ale drawing her one, Dany drawing both of hers.

Tommy, Ale and Dany were pointed at eachother now, Pau in the center. “Knew you were hidin’ somethin’…” Pau mumbled. “So you really are Thomas, huh?”

”None of your business, girl.” He snarled. “Out of my store. Now.”

Pau stared down the barrel of the colt, “Why? Afraid we’ll turn you in? If you didn’t wanna be a suspect you should’ve picked a better name.”

”Shut up.” He grimaced.

Pau could tell the man would not shoot, his hands were trembling, his face was twitching, and his voice was falling.

She chuckled, “Damn, you gonna drop the toy now? Talk to us like you’re a man? You clearly can’t shoot. That’s why you get others to do it for you, I guess.”

”I ain’t droppin’ it…” He shook his head, yet Pau knew it was just a bluff.

In a quick motion, she reached for the man’s wrist, pointing the barrel up as the gunshot rang out. The man shrieked in fear as Pau hopped over the counter, tackling the man to the floor. “Tell us what you know!” She pinned him, holding the shaft of her Winchester to his throat. “Tell us or I’ll give you a purple bruise for each lie you make up…”

Ale and Dany holstered their weapons, peering over the counter. This time, Dany would not restrain Pau. He’s getting what he deserved.

”I said I ain’t talkin’!—“ His words were interrupted by Pau’s knuckles colliding with his teeth, feeling one snap off and fly out of his mouth. Tommy groaned at the throbbing pain.

”Talk, bitch!” She yelled over him. “Talk or I’ll do it again! And again! And again! And until you start tellin’ us where to go!”

”Soul’s River!” He barked out desperately, “He’s goin’ to Soul’s River!” He felt tears well up in his face, his cheeks hot from the pain “By nightfall! Get there fast if you want to catch him…”

”Get where?” Ale tilted her head.

”The train… he’s conducting a robbery there.” The man took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

Pau chuckled, releasing the Winchester. “Good job… you keep the rest o’ your teeth.” She stood back up, climbing over the bar and joining her sisters once more. ”Y’got that?” She spoke with a prideful smile on her face.

”Loud and clear.” Dany nodded, the three beginning to make their way out of the weapons store. “Oh! And, Thomas?” She turned back, “Expect a friendly visit from the sherrif soon…”

Chapter Text

The sun bled into the horizon, streaks of orange and violet painting the sky as the three sisters waited by the tracks. The rhythmic hum of crickets filled the air, mixing with the occasional rustling of dry grass as the wind rolled through the open land. Their horses stood restlessly beneath them, sensing the tension in their riders.

Ale sat behind Pau, arms crossed as she leaned against her older sister’s back. “You better not make me regret this, Pau.”

Pau smirked, adjusting her reins. “C’mon, sharing a horse ain’t so bad. Just hold on tight and try not to fall off.”

Dany chuckled from her own horse, twirling the reins lazily in her hands. “Y’know, most people would be nervous about jumpin’ onto a movin’ train.”

“I am nervous,” Ale muttered. “I just don’t wanna die ‘cause my dumbass sister don’t know how to keep a horse steady.”

Pau gasped in mock offense. “Excuse you, I’ve got the best balance outta all of us.”

Ale tilted her head. “Didn’t you fall off a horse last month?”

“That was one time.”

Dany grinned. “It was a hilarious time.”

Pau huffed, rolling her eyes. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. Let’s see how y’all do when the train shows up.”

As if on cue, the distant sound of a whistle cut through the air. The rumbling of steel wheels on tracks followed, growing louder by the second.

The sisters straightened up, their playful banter fading as their eyes locked on the approaching locomotive.

Ale tightened her grip around Pau’s waist. “Showtime.”

The train roared past them, kicking up dust as it thundered down the tracks. They waited just long enough to line up their approach—then they spurred their horses forward.

The chase was on.

Their horses galloped hard, their hooves pounding against the dry earth. The wind whipped past them, drowning out everything but the roar of the train.

Dany was the first to move. She shifted her weight, standing up in the stirrups as her horse kept pace with the train. With one smooth motion, she jumped—her boots landing hard against the roof of a cargo car.

Pau whooped. “Show-off!”

“You’re up next!” Dany called back.

Pau turned slightly to glance at Ale. “Hold tight.”

“Just don’t screw this up,” Ale grumbled.

Pau grinned, adjusting her stance before pushing herself up. With a burst of momentum, she jumped from the saddle, grabbing onto the side of the train car and pulling herself over the top.

Ale wasted no time following, leaping from the back of Pau’s horse and rolling onto the roof just behind her.

The three of them steadied themselves as the train hurtled forward.

“Alright,” Ale breathed, fixing her hat. “Let’s find our man.”

They moved quickly, making their way across the roof of the train before dropping down onto a narrow ledge along the side of one of the cars. Ale slid the door open, revealing a dimly lit cargo hold filled with crates and barrels.

Empty.

They pushed forward, passing through another cargo car before reaching the first of the passenger compartments.

Inside, the train was alive with people—men and women dressed in fine traveling clothes, their conversations cut short as they turned to stare at the three dusty, armed strangers that had just entered their car.

A man in a bowler hat choked on his drink. A woman gasped, clutching at her pearls. Someone muttered a prayer.

Ale gave them a polite nod. “Evenin’.”

Dany nudged her. “Keep movin’.”

They pushed through the stunned passengers, scanning each face. Most of them were just travelers—merchants, families, the occasional lone wanderer.

Then, Ale saw him.

Jesse Calloway.

He was seated near the back, hat pulled low, coat draped over his lap like he was just another traveler minding his business. But the second his eyes met theirs, he moved.

His gun was up before they could react.

The shot rang out, the bullet grazing Dany’s shoulder before she could dive for cover.

Dany hissed, clutching at her arm as she ducked behind a seat. “Son of a—”

Pau was already moving, vaulting over a row of seats as Jesse turned and bolted. Ale fired off a shot, but he was fast—too fast, dodging through the car and shoving past terrified passengers as he made a break for the next door.

“Don’t let him get away!” Ale barked, reloading as she and Pau sprinted after him.

Jesse burst through the door to the next car, shoving it closed behind him.

Ale and Pau slammed into it a second later, forcing it open.

The chase was relentless, each car bringing more obstacles—crates, passengers, tight spaces that Jesse maneuvered through with practiced ease.

Then, he made his move.

He climbed.

With surprising speed, Jesse grabbed onto the ladder at the back of a car and hauled himself up onto the roof.

“Damn it,” Ale muttered, throwing herself up after him.

Pau followed, and despite the pain in her shoulder, so did Dany.

The wind hit them like a hammer as they reached the top. The train was still moving at full speed, the world rushing past them in a blur of dry grass and evening light.

Jesse stood a few feet ahead, gun drawn, eyes wild.

“This ain’t gonna end well for you, Calloway,” Ale called out.

Jesse smirked. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

Then he fired.

They dove for cover, bullets sparking against the metal roof. Dany grit her teeth through the pain, returning fire as Pau flanked to the left, moving low to avoid getting hit.

Jesse took a step back, reloading as he glanced over his shoulder—just in time to see what was coming.

A tunnel.

It loomed ahead, a dark maw that would swallow the entire train within seconds.

Jesse made his choice.

He turned and leapt, diving down through an open hatch into the car below just as the tunnel approached.

Ale didn’t hesitate. “Inside! Now!”

They scrambled down the ladder, dropping into the safety of the car below just as darkness consumed them. The roar of the tunnel filled their ears, the space so tight that the walls felt like they were pressing in on them.

The three of them caught their breath, eyes adjusting to the dim light.

Pau wiped sweat from her brow. “Well. That was fun.”

Dany rolled her shoulder, wincing. “He got me good.”

Ale exhaled, adjusting her hat. “We ain’t done yet.”

They glanced around.

Jesse Calloway was gone.

Dany’s breath came fast as she staggered through the dimly lit train car, her fingers still damp with the blood from her shoulder wound. The pain was distant now, drowned beneath the weight of adrenaline and exhaustion.

Jesse Calloway had vanished into the maze of cars, but she could still feel the fight in the air, lingering like the scent of gunpowder. Pau and Ale moved ahead of her, their footsteps barely audible over the rattling train.

Then, something changed.

The air shifted. The smell of smoke—sharp, acrid—hit her nose.

Something was wrong.

She opened her mouth to speak, to call out to her sisters, when—

BOOM.

A wall of fire and force swallowed the world whole.

Dany didn’t hear it at first. The explosion was too loud, too sudden. It felt like the air had been ripped from her lungs before the sound even reached her ears.

The train buckled, metal screeching as flames tore through the cars. Heat blistered her skin, and before she could even register what was happening, she was flying—thrown through the air like a rag doll as the world collapsed around her.

She hit something hard. Then another. Then nothing.

***

The first thing Dany felt was pain.

Deep, searing pain that wrapped around her ribs, her arms, her legs—everything. Her body was a raw nerve, each breath a struggle, each shift of movement sending fire through her bones.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Smoke clung to the air, thick and choking. The train lay in ruin around her, shattered wood and twisted metal glowing red-hot in the night. Fires licked at the wreckage, their flickering light casting eerie shadows.

She tried to move.

Pain screamed through her left leg, sharp and unrelenting. She gasped, falling back against the splintered remains of what had once been a train car.

Ale. Pau.

Where were they?

Her heart pounded as she forced herself to sit up, biting down on a pained cry. Her hand trembled as she pressed it to her ribs—probably broken. Blood trickled down her temple, warm against the night air.

She turned her head, searching, desperate.

“Pau?” she rasped.

No response.

“Ale!”

Nothing.

Dany’s chest tightened. They were gone. They had to be.

Another explosion must’ve hit. Maybe they’d been caught in the fire. Maybe they hadn’t even had time to—

No. No, she couldn’t think like that.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to her knees. Agony flared up her leg, nearly sending her collapsing again, but she fought through it.

Then, she heard it.

A cough.

Weak, pained, but there.

Dany’s head snapped toward the sound, hope igniting in her chest.

Through the smoke, a figure stirred.

Ale.

She was half-buried beneath the wreckage, one arm shielding her face as she tried to push herself up. Her hat was missing, her face streaked with soot and blood. But she was alive.

Dany let out a breath that was almost a sob.

“Ale!”

Ale’s head shot up, her dazed eyes locking onto Dany’s. She blinked, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Then, her mouth opened, and—

Another cough.

This one, from behind her.

Dany turned sharply, and there—crumpled against what remained of a wooden beam—was Pau.

She was barely moving, her body slack, her usually sharp eyes hazy and unfocused.

For a second, Dany couldn’t breathe.

Then, sheer instinct took over.

She crawled toward Pau, every inch of her body screaming in protest. “Pau! Hey—hey, wake up”

Nothing.

Her chest rose and fell—barely.

Dany pressed a trembling hand to her sister’s face, panic rising in her throat. “C’mon, don’t do this to me,” she muttered, voice breaking.

Then—another cough.

Shallow. Weak. But alive.

Relief slammed into Dany so hard she nearly collapsed right then and there.

Ale groaned behind her, shifting beneath the wreckage. “The hell just happened?”

Dany turned her head. “Train… must’ve been rigged. A bomb—”

Ale let out a harsh breath. “Jesse.”

Dany swallowed. He was gone. The bastard had set them up.

But right now, she didn’t care.

Because against all odds, they were still breathing.

***

It took everything they had to make it back to town.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment above the saloon, exhaustion had taken its toll.

Dany could barely think. Her entire body ached, her leg barely able to hold her weight. Ale had a gash across her forehead, her knuckles torn up from the wreckage. Pau—though still conscious—was barely speaking, her breath uneven from what had to be broken ribs.

But they were here. They were alive.

Ale dragged herself toward the rickety wooden table, grabbing a half-empty bottle of whiskey and slamming it down with a heavy sigh. “Dany, sit down before you pass out.”

Dany didn’t argue. She practically collapsed into a chair, wincing as the motion sent another wave of pain through her ribs.

Pau groaned from the cot near the wall, shifting slightly. “Someone… get me a damn drink.”

Ale snorted. “Drink later. Let’s fix you up first.”

Pau grumbled, but didn’t argue.

Ale grabbed a damp rag, tossing one to Dany before crouching beside Pau. “This is gonna hurt.”

“No shit.”

Dany exhaled, pressing the rag to the cut on her forehead. “That explosion… we should’ve died.”

Ale didn’t respond right away.

Instead, she reached for the bottle of whiskey, taking a slow, measured sip before setting it down.

“We got lucky,” she muttered.

Dany wasn’t sure if she believed in luck.

She leaned back, closing her eyes for a second, exhaustion creeping in fast.

Her mind flickered back to the wreckage, the fire, the moment she’d thought she was alone—thought she had lost everything.

She shuddered.

Ale must’ve noticed, because her voice softened just slightly.

“We made it.”

Dany opened her eyes again, looking at her sisters—their bruised faces, their torn clothes, the way Pau’s breathing was just a little too shallow, the way Ale’s hands trembled slightly when she reached for more bandages.

Yeah.

They’d made it.

But just barely.

And Jesse Calloway was still out there.

Chapter Text

After the massacre of a train heist, the sisters still had to tend to their saloon. The day was more tiresome than usual, as they still felt like they had barely scraped and escaped from the reaper the previous night. Customers were rowdier, pressing about why their bartenders were so slow.

Ale could barely pull the glasses from under the bar without her back shrieking for her to move carefully.

Pau sat at the piano, her fingers hitting the wrong keys and her brain pulsating with a pain that made her feel like an ice pick was entering through her skull.

Dany had to lean against counters and tables for support as she moved around, refilling drinks and taking orders.

The three ended up closing the saloon early, ushering the drunken farmers and cowboys off the premise so their bodies could rest.

Dany sighed, closing the latch of the saloon doors. “Well… anything to get a few extra dollars in this age.” She spoke as she guided herself back to the bar while her hands leaned against the surrounding tables as a crutch.

”Anything to keep our cover.” Ale huffed, stretching her arms as the pain stiffened them through the labor of her work.

Pau joined, ”Well, more work for tonight still.”

The three had managed to track down some of the locations of Jesse’s close men and women, through word of mouth to patrons within the saloon and maybe a few free drinks.

Silas “Deadeye” Crowley was a precise and deadly sharpshooter hired by Jesse to be his second pair of eyes in his conquest. Silas had no remorse for his killings, which made him all the more dangerous knowing the man was nothing but a steel wall of morbid terror at the hands of a lead bullet. The man was hidden away in an abandoned watchtower outside of the town. Dany would be the one to try to catch him, as she believed he held some important information about Jesse’s next big heist.

Javier “The Butcher” Morales was a brute force at Jesse’s disposal, who thrived off the sounds of the skulls crushed by his hands. Anyone who got in Jesse’s way, he was there to dispose of. He was located in an abandoned watchtower, holed up and out of the public town’s eye. Allegedly, this man is within a nearby town known as ‘Martyr Town’. Pau would be the one to get him into custody and hopefully draw out a clearer picture for Jesse’s full plan down the line, without her skull being crushed.

Miriam “Mirage” Lane was far outside the town, clear into a separate county all together, in the bustling ‘Shallow Blood City’. Miriam was a skilled and athletic performer. She knew the greedy nature of others, and knew how to exploit them for what she wanted. Ale would be the one to track her down, hoping she wouldn’t let Mirage speak a word in fear of it corrupting her morals for Mirage’s likeness.

***

The blazing heat beamed down onto Dany, as she stood in the secluded desert on horseback as she trekked her way to the watchtower, the tall and menacing structure that loomed just right under the clouds. At least, that’s what Dany believed. The inferno of the desert may have gotten to her by this point.

”We made it, Cisco, just barely.” She sighed, feeling the sweat beads rolling down her face.

Dany hopped off of her horse, then lugged it’s reigns before tying it to a post attached to the watchtower. “Stay put, I won’t be long.” She stroked the side of Cisco’s neck, then made sure her dual colts were fully loaded, and the small pouch of sand was full before embarking on a journey up the tall watchtower.

She climbed up the stairs sluggishly, the sun still beating on her like there was no tomorrow. She felt the sweat seeping into her clothing, and the sweat traveling down her forehead to her neck. Dany was lightheaded, and still injured from the previous tussle with the enemy. At any moment, she felt like her legs would give out. Hell, she didn’t even know if she would be fit to face this sharpshooter of a bandit before reaching the top.

The heat taunted her on the journey, yet by the time Dany felt like she was already half dead, she had made it. Stumbling into the watchtower, a man stood ready for a duel with his hand on his rifle, keeping the barrel facing down until Dany would reveal her intentions.

“I saw you from a mile away…” He squinted.

Dany stood up straight, panting. “Really…? Could’ve never guessed… there ain’t no cover out here”

”What d’you want from me? Come for some sorta bounty?” Silas tilted his head, his grip tightening on the rifle, ready to bring it up whenever Dany would strike first.

“Just business.” Dany shrugged, “You got info on a guy I need.”

”Business?” Silas chuckled, “You came all the way out here for business?” He looked around, pointing at the rickety old watchtower they found themselves in.

”It’s either business… or your cold body dragging from the back o’ my horse.” Dany put her hands on her colts.

”That’s a bluff if I’ve ever heard one…” He smirked at her biting words.

”You can’t prove it until it’s too late.”

Dany whipped out her pistols in the blink of an eye, only for Silas to bring his up at the same time, the two staring down the barrels of their firearms.

“Jesse Calloway…” Dany remarked, not daring to take her eyes off of the point of the sniper rifle pointed at her.

”I ain’t know no Calloway…” He shook his head.

”I’ll shoot it outta ya if I have to.”

Dany’s eyes narrowed behind the barrels of her colts, the wind kicking dust through the silence like a whisper of death. Silas’ rifle didn’t waver, that pale eye of his locked on her like he was looking straight through to her bones. A single twitch from either of them would decide it.

Silas finally broke the silence. “Y’know, I always wondered what kinda person’d be dumb enough to stare down the Crowley rifle.”

He tilted his head, a sick smile curling up on one side.

“Turns out, she’s a real pretty one.”

Dany didn’t blink.

“Flatter me again, and I’ll shoot first just for the disrespect.”

He chuckled. “Fair ‘Nuff.”

They circled slightly, boots scuffing the dirt, never dropping eye contact. Dany’s fingers flexed, but never left the trigger guard. She could feel her heartbeat in her teeth.

“You weren’t alone at that saloon riot.” She kept her voice even.

“I know Jesse was there. I know he’s planning something big.”

Silas gave no response. Just that smile, still stuck to her face like it had been carved there.

“I already told you…Don’t know no Jesse.” he repeated, voice low.

“But I know a dead woman when I see one.”

Dany cocked the hammer of her left colt.

“Then lets see if you’re a prophet or just a corpse with a good guess.”

Time fractured in the next second. Single crow cawwed from above. A bottle, somewhere behind them, tipped off a barrel and shattered.

They fired.

Two flashes. Two shots.

Dany spun left, rolling as a bullet hissed past her ear and cracked against a beam.

Her return shot clipped Silas’ shoulder, spinning him back against a post. He grunted, but didn’t drop the rifle.

She came up from the roll on one knee, both guns aimed. Silas dropped into a crouch behind cover, blood running down his arm, one eye peeking through the scopes glint.

Crack! His next shot snapped the crate beside her into splinters, spraying her cheek with wood.

Dany dove behind an old trough, heart pounding, boots skidding in the dry dirt.

“You ain’t bad for a ghost, Crowley!” She shouted over the ring in her ears, “But I ain’t dead yet.”

Silas laughed, grim and ragged.

“Not yet.”

Dany pulled a bullet from her sash with her teeth, jamming it into her left Colt.

She closed her eyes, just for a moment—then popped up, both pistols barking fire across the horizon.

Silas fired once more, but she’d move again, rushing in a zig-zag sprint. One bullet grazed her ribs, the burn igniting a snarl from her lips. She lunged, grabbing a fistful of fine sand from a pouch on her side, and hurling it in his direction.

The two tumbled to the ground, dirt flying, fists swinging. Silas tried to fight back, tried to pull a knife from his boot, but Dany smashed his wrist with the butt of her gun, the blade clattered away.

Breathing hard, she jammed one Colt against his throat.

“Last chance.” Her voice was steel, “Where. Is. Jesse.”

Silas bared bloody teeth, half laughing, half wheezing.

“Even if I knew…he’d kill me slower than you ever would.”

Click. She cocked the hammer again, slower this time.

“Wanna test that theory?”

Silence.

Dany pulled a coil of rope from her saddle bag—always prepared—and kicked his rifle out of reach. Silas shifted, trying to rise, but a swift boot to the ribs put him back down.

“You’re lucky I need you alive.”

“So you can play hangman later?” he spat, grinning through the pain.

“No,” Dany muttered, tightening the knot around his wrists, “So you can sit tied to aq chair for a few hours while I peel the truth out of you one lie at a time.”

She hoisted him up, slinging his weight over a nearby hitching post while she fastened the last knot. His feet dragged through the dirt as she pulled him towards her horse.

“This is a mistake,” he said, voice low now.

“You don’t know what Jesse’s planning. He’ll bury you before you even get close.”

Dany paused, tying him to the saddle like a sack of regret.

“Then start talking. Maybe I’ll believe you. Maybe I won’t.”

He looked up at her—pale eyes flickering just a moment with something like concern, or maybe fear.

“It’s too late anyway…” he muttered.

She stared at him, eyes narrowing like gun barrels. Then—

Whack. She pistol-whipped him across the temple, knocking him out cold.

Dany stood over his limp body, chest heaving. She wiped the blood from her lip and holstered her guns.

“Told you I’d shoot it outta ya.”

***

Pau was also a victim of the brutal temperature within the Utah climate. She approached Martyr Town on horseback, the sweat traveling down her face and dripping off the tip of her nose. “We’re here, Blackjack, we’re here.” She sighed out of exhaustion.

She tied up her horse to the post, made sure her prized Winchester was loaded, and the mini pistol in her belt band was secured. She didn’t know what it would take to stop this brute of a man, but she knew she wouldn’t be leaving without him tied to Blackjack.

The town was not very active, as most people were either slummed on the side of old stores, enveloped in the opium that coursed through their veins, or barricaded within the safety of their living spaces. The weather was warm, but the aura of the town sent a few shivers down Pau’s spine.

She wandered around the town, clutching her rifle tightly to make sure nobody would approach her, not that anyone was mad enough to attack a bounty hunter anyways.

Pau’s search was halted as she reached the saloon, the paint on the sign too worn out to read the name of it. She approached the doors, and swung them open.

Unlike the town itself, the saloon was packed with dozens of failed businessmen and farmers who had the motivation of their lives driven out by this lazy town. Pau scanned the inside of the saloon, her vision settling on a large and stone-cold beast of a man. Pau knew immediately that this was her target.

Pau didn’t waste any time, drawing her rifle up and causing the people within to gasp out of surprise. No sort of confrontation or action had happened in months within a town like this. People clamored, already trying to funnel out and escape the jolt of adrenaline a gun can cause when it’s drawn. The beast did not move.

She tried to aim her shot, but the people filing out were hitting her shoulders, nearly knocking her over entirely. By the time she went for the shot, it had missed him.

Just barely.

The shot was the sound that finally made the man react. He stood up slowly, turning around to face his adversary, his face coated in a suppressed rage that caused Pau’s feet to go cold.

”Oh shit…” Pau muttered, causing her to hesitate.

The man rushed into her, not giving Pau enough time to dodge his blow. He slammed into her with a tackle. With any more force, Pau believed he could have snapped her in half.

“Get out…” Javier snarled, stumbling to stand back up, “Before I really show you why they call me ‘The Butcher’…” He began to draw his cleaver from his belt.

”I’d rather get my heart gutted out than have to leave empty handed, Javier.” She gritted her teeth as she stood back up, the injuries from the previous night and the previous moment hitting her all at once.

As Javier approached, Pau mustered up the strength to swing the stock of her Winchester into the jaw of Javier, catching him by surprise and leaving him in a stunned state. She went for a second swing, landing it on his nose and hearing a crack, one presumably being the bridge of his nose as it began to bleed profusely.

”You bitch…!” He snarled.

”Not sorry.” She bit back, going for a knee to his teeth, causing him to jerk his head back at the force. He stumbled back and tripped onto a table. “You’re not as tough as I thought.”

The man huffed as she walked up to the table. He grabbed her wrist, causing her to yelp, caught off guard.

Javier lifted his other hand that held the cleaver, and went for a slice that surely would cut Pau’s arm right off.

Her quick reflexes allowed her to throw her leg up over her arm, kicking the cleaver away from his hand and sending it across the room. “Let go of me, bastard.” She tried to tug away.

”No… I didn’t need that knife anyways.” He pulled Pau, sending her clean over the table and into the piano, causing the wood to splinter. She cried out in pain as she felt the pieces poke into her skin. Her Winchester had flown off as she was in the air, sending it across the room as well. The two had lost their main weapons, their last resorts being their fists and Pau’s dainty little pistol.

She stumbled back onto her feet, the jostles of wood in her back sending small shrieks of pain down her body with every movement. “You just ruined…” She shuffled towards Javier… “A perfectly good piano…”

”Music ain’t needed in a brawl like this, honey.” He shook his head, the blood trailing down his nose and falling onto his lips, leading down to his chin where it left a trail onto his shirt, some of the drops hitting the floor depending on his motion.

The sound of ‘honey’ left a bitter taste in Pau’s mouth. “Don’t call me honey…” She grumbled, a new-found sense of adrenaline suppressing all pain in her body. She pulled out her pistol, quickly aiming a shot for his forehead.

Javier tried his best to dodge, but the bullet had grazed his shoulder.

Pau moved close enough to jab Javier in the face with the butt of the pistol once more, causing a tooth to fly out.

Javier fought back, landing a swing with his fist onto Pau’s jaw, just like the one she had given him with her Winchester. “Some payback…” He remarked.

”Yeah right…” Pau mumbled, her hand on her cheek to make sure her jaw was still in place after the impact.

Javier went for a second, but Pau managed to drop low, rolling away from the deadly force of his fist.

She skittered to hide behind a nearby table, flipping it up for cover.

”What’s cover gonna do when I ain’t got no bullets, tiny hunter?” He chuckled at her action.

”Needed time to reload.” Pau peered from behind, the barrel of her pistol pointed right at Javier.

Her second shot missed the man entirely, and as she went to reload once more, he kicked the table, causing it to go into Pau’s back and make the splinters cry out once more.

He picked up Pau by the back of her vest, and took a look at her poker face of emotions. She may have been showing a sense of fearlessness and resilience when taking on a man twice her size, but deep down she knew she would not be winning this in a traditional way.

Pau looked over his shoulder, spotting an untouched and empty bottle sitting on the bar, presented like it was meant for her. She used the strength she had left to muster up one more blow with the butt of her pistol into the giant’s jaw.

She felt herself being released, and she darted for that bottle.

Pau could already feel his footsteps shaking and rumbling behind her, but she swiped the bottle first, then grabbing Javier by his sleeve and slamming him hard into the bar next to her. The impact left him in a dazed state once more, and she slammed the bottle over his head. Pau took the borrowed time to reload the pistol. “Tell me, Javier… what’you know about a man named Jesse Calloway?”

He didn’t respond. The gears were turning in his head, but his brain was left so mushed he could not move his mouth.

”Damn…” Pau spat, “Must’ve hit’ya too hard, huh? We can talk about this later then…” She smacked him with the pistol one more time for good measure, then took the bundled rope from her belt and moved to tie the brute’s hands behind his back.

***

Contrary to the pounding heat experienced by Dany and Pau, Ale had just finished a comfortable train ride down farther south. She stepped out of the station and into the bustling city of Shallow Blood, a sanction of trading, circuses, and gambling. ‘Man, Pau would love it here.’ Ale thought as she took in the sights.

People swerved past her with a sense of urgency within their duties, everyone always looking so busy they didn’t have time to correct their walking paths. Ale felt like she was swimming through the sea of individuals, clamoring and rambunctious music filling her ears which overwhelmed her senses ever so slightly. She was not a big fan of crowds like this, but anything to take down the outlaw that had wronged them so poorly.

Ale knew who she was on the lookout for. Miriam Lane would be somewhere in the trading center, playing games involving rigged luck in order to steal money. At least, that was what Ale would be assuming. Usually, her assumptions were right anyways.

The square was somehow more crowded than the main heart of the city, filled with more traders and people of other trades and specialties hollering over the popular chatter to try to appeal a buyer’s eyes.

Ale kept her eyes peeled for this woman. From the photos she was able to find on wanted posters, her face had sharp features, small eyes, and light-colored hair. She would just have to trust the illustrator’s work for this hunt.

”Come to face me? Want to win big?” Ale heard from beyond the crowd, which caught her ear. It continued, “One lucky person, and a fortune will be yours!” She continued moving against the crowd, until the source of the disembodied voice came into view.

Sharp features.

Small eyes.

Light-colored hair.

’Mirage.’ Ale opined.

Conjuring up the confidence to face and confront this sleek woman, Ale strutted up to Miriam. There was a picnic cloth with two cushions across from eachother, Miriam sitting on one. On top of the cloth was three cups face down. Miriam was holding a small ball, tossing it from one hand to the other with a swift and effortless motion. “Oh? A challenger? Feelin’ divine, friend?” Miriam smirked, gesturing her hand towards the cushion across from her.

Ale didn’t speak, sitting down on the cushion with her legs crossed.

”Five Mexican silver, and I’ll let you at it.” Miriam picked up one of the cups, setting the ball within it. “If you win, y’get double.”

”How do I know you got this type ‘uh fortune?” Ale tilted her head, watching Miriam’s hands closely to make sure she was not pulling any tricks.

”Why would I lie to a lucky gal like you?”

”Don’t call me that.” Ale bit back, the words making her recoil mentally, then slammed five silver she pulled out of her pocket onto the cloth.

Miriam laughed, enthused by Ale’s attitude. “Fine then, have it your way.” She snatched the silver onto her side, setting it safely next to her to make sure Ale would not be the one playing a trick and trying to snatch her silver back if she guessed wrong.

Ale watched as Miriam set the cup with the ball back face down, and began to shuffle. Ale kept her eyes glued to the cup with the ball, until she suddenly realized she was getting too enveloped, Miriam might be trying to pull something. She looked up at her, causing Miriam to show a sense of confusion, “Y’not lookin’? You’re that sure you can win?”

”Why are you really here?” Ale replied instantly, causing Miriam to hesitate for a second, before returning the flowing motions of shuffling the cups.

”I certainly don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing.

Ale knew she was just playing dumb, and added on. “Jesse Calloway…” She pressed.

The name made Miriam freeze, “Surely not…” She shook her head.

Ale looked down at the cups again, thinking Miriam had merely stopped shuffling, not out of her fear. She pointed to the far left one, having no idea if this was really the right one.

Miriam, still in a state of shock of the knowledge Ale possessed, lifted the cup.

There it was, the orange ball that was needed to win.

”What?!” Miriam exclaimed, “How?- That’s not how this trick works! How did you do it?”

Ale shrugged, “I’m a lucky gal.”

”You— You tricked me!”

There was truly no method behind Ale’s madness, this truly was a stroke of pure luck, yet she played into it. “Pick some better tricks next time, Mirage.”

”You’re not tryin’ to turn me in to a sheriff, are ya?”

”What? No… not a sheriff at least.” Ale smirked.

Miriam knew she was in deep water, so she began to do what she did best.

Run away.

Miriam dashed away in a sense of urgency. If Ale hadn’t had a close eye on the woman, she would have already beeen out of her sight.

Ale tried to stay as close as possible, but the sea of people opposed as a truly unwavering obstacle.

Her heart beat quickly as she watched the slender girl squeeze through gaps with an efficient sense of skill, fearing what would happen if she let Miriam get away.

Ale swerved through crowds at the best of her ability, so caught up in the chase she had not realized she was outside the trading center all together and now running down the bustling streets of Shallow Blood City.

She dodged people along their commute, feeling the exhaustion catch up to her along with the injuries of the night involving the train heist, she felt her adrenaline drip from her body, and her legs growing sore, yet Miriam kept moving.

”C’mon… stop moving… please…” Ale muttered like a prayer, vaulting over stands and pivoting around poles just to gain a slight advantage on Miriam, but she wasn’t letting up.

What felt like the grace of God being bestowed onto Ale, it seemed Miriam had turned into a dead end within a secluded yet shady alleyway.

Miriam cursed at herself, feeling her foolishness in full effect. “Damn…”

Ale stood behind her, “Looks like the chase is up, Mirage.” She panted.

Miriam swerved around to face Ale, hand on the hilt of her pistol in her holster already.

Ale looked down at her hand, smirking before she met Miriam’s eyes once more, “Don’t even try, you know you ain’t winning this.” She carefully set her hand on her own pistol.

”You don’t know a thing about me…” Miriam shook her head.

”I learned a lot in the last bit of time we’ve spent… You rely on your tricks and your thievery. Unfortunately, you’ve been reduced to your marksmanship. Which as far as I’m aware, is not your specialty.” Ale analyzed the girl, sensing the desperation plastered on her face.

”Shut up!” Miriam bit back, “I don’t want trouble.”

”You want all the trouble.” Ale replied rapidly, “You lie, cheat, and steal like your life depends on it, and I know you got some useful info on this outlaw I here mentioned.”

”I ain’t tellin’ you a thing about Jesse!”

”Fine then…” Ale whipped her pistol from her holster, an action that caused Miriam to begin moving again, already scaling up the scaffolding of the buildings. “Dammit!” Ale huffed, shooting a few shots that missed before she began scaling the building herself.

The chase had been elevated, both figuratively and literally.

They hopped building gaps, climbed roofs, slid roofs, and dodged overseeing birds. Unlike below, Ale had a clear sighting of Miriam.

She carried through her pain and her suffering, this time noticing that Miriam was beginning to tire out. Ale kept her pace up, and before she knew what was in front of her, they had reached the end of the building line.

Ale did not register why Miriam had halted at the top, slamming right into her and sending the two right off the building in a tackle.

Their fall was broken by a poor fruit vendor’s stand, smashing it in pieces and sending the splinters straight into Miriam’s back.

”Apologies…” Ale huffed, beginning to unwind the rope on her belt as she kept Miriam pinned, “Got an outlaw here…” She forcefully wrapped Miriam’s wrists in the rope, “No need to worry… it’s all taken care of.” She announced to the people staring in shock around her.

Chapter Text

The air in the back of the saloon cellar was hot, dry, and rank with old whiskey and older secrets. The three prisoners sat bound to chairs, the ropes creaking with every nervous twitch.

Javier Morales was breathing through his nose like a bull about to charge, blood crusted under one eye from where Ale had clocked him. Silas Crowley lounged like he had nowhere else to be, his arms behind him, his hat tilted low, and a half-smirk plastered across his thin lips. Then there was Miriam Lane — calm, silent, dangerous. Her eyes followed every movement, calculating.

Ale stood closest to Silas, arms crossed, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack. Whiskey lay at her feet, calm but watchful.

“I’ll ask one more time,” Ale said, voice like grit. “Where is Jesse heading next?”

Silas laughed low, deep in his chest. “You think tying me up’s gonna scare me? I’ve been shot five times, sweetheart. This ain't nothin’.”

Pau slammed the butt of her rifle into the wooden floor. “I’m done waiting,” she snapped. “Let me break his fingers one by one. He’ll talk.”

“Do it,” Silas growled, baring his teeth. “You think Jesse won’t burn this whole town to the ground when he finds out you got us?”

“Let him try,” Pau shot back. “He’s already run once. He can do it again—with a bullet in his spine.”

Ale paced behind them, boots tapping the wood, arms crossed. Her jaw worked like she was grinding her teeth to powder.

“We’ve been at this for an hour,” Pau snapped from the corner, crouched against a crate, her arms slung over her knees. “They’re not gonna talk. We should hang ‘em and be done with it.”

Dany leaned heavily against a nearby table, her shoulder and ribs still wrapped from the train blast. Even standing was work now, every movement a quiet scream through her side. “We’re not hangin’ anyone, Pau.”

Pau stood sharply. “We almost died, Dany. You almost died.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are we still playin’ nice with Jesse’s trash?”

Ale stopped pacing. “Because if we play it smart, we’ll find Jesse before he finds that payroll. That’s the real job.”

Pau rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and while we wait for Mister Morales here to maybe find it in his heart to talk, Jesse’s probably ridin’ toward a wagon full of gold.”

Morales chuckled. “She’s got spirit, I’ll give her that.”

Pau was across the room in a blink. Her boot connected with his chair, knocking it backward and slamming him hard to the floor. He cursed in Spanish, writhing.

“Paulina!” Dany’s voice cracked like thunder.

Pau didn’t flinch. “If you’re gonna talk, do it now. If not, I ain’t got a problem makin’ this quick.”

Ale moved fast, pulling Pau back by the collar. “That’s enough!”

“He deserves worse!”

“I know! But if we start acting like them, we become them!”

“Maybe I don’t care anymore!”

“You do,” Dany said softly. Both sisters looked at her. Dany was still hunched over the table, sweating, pale, but her voice was calm now — steel wrapped in velvet. “We all do. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Silas chuckled behind his broken nose. “Nah. He’s right. Jesse’s after something bigger than your usual loot.”

Dany’s heart sank. “How much bigger?”

“Military payroll,” Miriam said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was steady and cold. “Headed west. Full escort. Gold bars, federal issued. Enough to fund a damn war.”

Ale’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”

“I helped plan it,” Miriam answered, her lip curling into something between a smirk and a regret. “But Jesse’s got his own timing. He cut us loose. Said we were too ‘visible.’”

“So he’s goin’ alone,” Dany said slowly, putting the pieces together. “To take a military transport full of gold... alone?”

“He’s not alone,” Javier coughed. “He’s got new blood. Desperate types. You don’t even know their names yet.”

Ale moved to the table, spreading out a map of the western trails and rail lines. “When’s the shipment moving?”

“Three days,” Miriam replied. “Crosses through Twin Ridge Pass on the third night. Narrow terrain. One road in, one out. Jesse thinks it’ll be easy.”

“That’s suicide,” Pau muttered.

“Or genius,” Dany added.

They stared at the map in silence. The room was heavy with dust and sweat and thought. Dany could feel the pressure in her chest like a mountain was sitting on it — whether from the broken ribs or the weight of what was coming, she didn’t know.

Ale tapped the pass with her finger. “We flip the plan.”

Pau looked up. “What do you mean?”

Dany exhaled, leaning heavy against the wall. “We set a trap.”

Pau whipped around. “You serious? The last time we set a trap, we nearly died. We should hit ‘em first. Ride straight to Wolfstone, cut the tracks, take him out before he ever lays eyes on that gold.”

Ale shook her head. “Too risky. We’ll never get close if he’s already moving. We need to be ahead of him. Make him come to us.”

Pau slammed her fist against a beam. “We wait, and he slips away again.”

“Or we plan for once,” Ale growled back. “I’m not losing another damn fight.”

Silence fell like a knife between them.

Dany stepped between her sisters, her voice quieter this time. “We’ve lost too much already. We barely crawled outta that wreck. This is our last shot.”

***
That night, after they locked up the prisoners and cleared the cellar, Pau vanished.

Ale and Dany found her note scrawled on the back of a torn whiskey label:

“Gonna make us some quick coin. Don’t wait up.”

Ale cursed under her breath. “Dumbass.”

“She’s goin’ to gamble,” Dany said with a sigh. “Of course she is.”

***
The saloon in Bridger’s Hollow wasn’t much more than a room full of smoke and regret. Lanterns flickered above stained tables, and a busted piano wheezed out a half-hearted tune in the corner.

Pau stood with her elbows on the blackjack table, fingers drumming against the wood. A worn bandana covered the lower half of her face. Her coat was pulled tight, hood shadowing her eyes.

Across from her sat a man with greasy blonde hair and a silver tooth that caught every bit of light when he smiled. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the second hand.

“I’ll raise,” he said, tossing a small stack of coins toward the pot.

Pau didn’t flinch. She matched him.

Cards fell. The man’s smile widened.

“Read ’em and weep, sweetheart.”

He laid down a perfect blackjack.

Pau stared at her hand. Nineteen.

A slow burn spread in her chest.

“That’s four in a row,” she said flatly.

“Luck’s a funny thing,” the man said. “You win some, you lose some.”

His friends chuckled behind him. One of them was already stacking Pau’s money.

She didn’t move. Her eyes drifted toward the dealer’s hand, and she caught it—barely a flicker. A card slid beneath the table, quick and quiet.

Cheating.

The burn became a fire.

“You rigged this,” she said coldly.

The man laughed. “A girl like you should know when to walk away.”

He reached to pocket her last coin.

Pau shot him in the chest.

The saloon erupted. People screamed. Chairs fell. The man hit the ground, blood soaking through his shirt as he gurgled his last breath.

Pau stood motionless for a moment, her revolver still raised. She turned, pushing through the stunned crowd and out into the night before anyone could stop her.

***

Dany was the first to hear the door slam.

Pau stepped inside, face flushed, breath ragged.

Ale looked up from where she was cleaning her rifle.

Dany pushed herself upright, alarm crawling into her voice. “Pau?”

“I lost the money,” Pau muttered.

Ale stood. “You what?”

“I was cheated,” Pau snapped. “He—he was stacking the cards.”

“So you shot him?” Dany asked, already knowing the answer.

Pau didn’t deny it.

Silence stretched.

Dany’s voice trembled. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

“No one saw my face.”

“That won’t matter!” Ale shouted. “You left a body! A saloon full of witnesses! If they start sniffing around, if they ID you—”

“They won’t,” Pau said, but her voice wasn’t confident anymore.

Dany leaned forward, her hand pressed to her ribs. “You just painted a target on all our backs.”

“I was angry,” Pau muttered.

“We all are,” Ale snapped. “But you can’t keep throwing fire every time you feel something.”

Pau glared. “What do you know about what I feel?”

“Enough to know you’re gonna get us killed,” Ale hissed.

Dany stepped between them again, but her voice was weaker this time. “We need to stick together. Please.”

Pau looked at her. Dany—bandaged, bruised, barely holding herself upright. And still trying to hold them together.

Her face cracked, just a little. “I didn’t mean to screw it up.”

Ale turned away, biting down whatever she was about to say.

Dany exhaled and looked toward the window, the moon casting pale light over the rooftops outside.

The gold was still out there. So was Jesse. And now, thanks to Pau, the clock was ticking faster than ever.

Chapter Text

The following day, a crackling yet faint sense of fear and anger loomed between the Villarreal sisters. Pau was upset with the money she had lost to that cheating bastard, Dany was upset that her sister had just killed a man with a cookie crumb trail that could trace back to their family name, and Ale was justifiably upset about both of her sisters lashing out and escalating the situation that was already higher than the clouds.

Even with their bond now containing an underlying sense of tension, they keep their heads as level as possible within the growing chaos. They had a plan, and they were going to stick with it.

Ale gathers materials for explosives that they can use to ambush the train, Pau would be purchasing a few new firearms for their arsenal, 100% reliable guns of artistry that had no chance of jamming or failing, and Dany, with the knowledge that this shipment is military funded, would visit a veteran who attended their saloon regularly, hoping he had some sort of idea of what was going on and what this shipment’s route would be.

***

The saloon was kept closed today, to the average drunk-head’s dismay. It was not kept closed because Ale, the usual tender, was out of town. It was because she was busy making some good ol’ dynamite.

She woke up to the brisk and rare morning breeze of the town, staring at the ceiling of her room she shared with her three sisters, that fortunately were already out on their errands, which meant that nobody would be bothering her at this hour. She sat up on her mattress, one that was nearly level with the floor. The pain in her back was evident, not sure if this was from the mattress itself or the past labor and harm she had put her body in this week.

Ruffling her hair into an acceptable shape, she proceeded to groan as she slid off the mattress and stood up fully. Ale shuffled to the closet she shared with her three sisters, and pulled out her wear for a casual day.

Once situated, she ventured down the stairs, making her way down to the main saloon level. Ale double checked to make sure the doors were still locked after her sisters left, to which it had been properly taken care of.

With another thing checked off today’s list, she made her way behind the bar. It was not common knowledge that there was a trapdoor within this saloon, as if people may had realized, it could land the sisters in prison. Ale pulled the iron clasp, then lifted the door up, a staircase leading further down the establishment.

Ale grabbed a few matches from under the bar, and struck them to light up the lanterns that lead to the basement.

When fully lit, it was quick to realize that this is where the sisters kept their gear. All the guns, rolled explosives, and other excessive products they could use to defend themselves when bounty hunting were mounted on walls in an organized fashion.

She gathered the materials she needed, and sat at the desk in the middle of the room.

Ale sat at the desk for a grueling five hours crafting their explosives.

***

Dany looked down at the sheet of parchment with a name ‘Elias Rourke’ and a location of a worn down house a drunken bar-mate had given her to help find information on a military payload Jesse was after. She had no idea if this was the right call, let alone if this man was telling the truth through the incoherent influence of alcohol coursing through his blood. To justify, she believed any lead at this point. She just wanted the money.

She then looked up from the parchment, looking at the very house in front of her. The dark wood was rotting, the house had a stench of wafting cigar smoke, and the aura of it made her uneasy, as her spine surged with chills.

She swallowed down the dread that the house had given her, and proceeded to walk up to the house and knock on the door.

Footsteps made the wood creek on the other side, and the door slowly opened to reveal a short man with a yellow straw cap, a faded red shirt, and blue jeans. His skin was fair, and a gaping scar went from his forehead down through his eye, and to his chin. “What’s a chick like doin’ all the way out ‘ere…? Wait, you’re that bartender…”

Dany squinted, “Don’t call me that. Are you Carlos Guerrero?”

He tilted his head, “Who wants to know?” The man spoke defensively, his tone shifting into one of stone-coldness.

”I have a few questions.” She folded the parchment into her pocket, “There’s a military payload I’m lookin’ for, think he might have a clue where it’s goin’.”

”I ain’t helpin’ no outlaw, young lady.” He shook his head.

Dany shook her head “Nah, I’m no outlaw. Matter of a fact, I’m lookin’ for one.”

The man raises an eyebrow, ponders for a second, then speaks. “Come in.”

Dany steps into the rickety home, The stench assaulting her nostrils even stronger. She stifles a cough.

”I know what’cha need.” He gestures for her to a rocking chair, and moves to a cabinet on the opposite end.

Dany slowly settles in the chair, afraid it would shatter into splinters at any moment. Both her hands sit on the arms of the chairs, her legs firmly planted on the wood-paneled floor below her.

”Shipment’s comin’ in at dawn. Don’t know exactly when, it’s all the informants had told me.” The man reached up to grab an aged bottle of whiskey.

“Informants?” Dany echoed in the form of a question.

”Yep.” He set the bottle down on the counter, reaching back up and grabbing two glasses. “Old friends, they got all the info on these shipments. Eyes on the inside, if you know what I’m gettin’ at.” Carlos unscrews the cap of the whiskey and pours the amber liquid into the two glasses.

”Are you sure it’s reliable?” Dany furrows her eyebrows, “Are they hired mercenaries? Private investigators?”

”I dunno, I ain’t that sure of either, to be honest.” Carlos grabs the two glasses, walking back over to Dany and handing her a glass before pulling up a chair across from her.

Dany swirled the drink in her glass, taking a sip and feeling it burn down her throat before she spoke, a cedar taste lingering on her tongue. “You ain’t sure?”

”You should know better than anyone, young lady, I know what you are. I can sense the bounty hunter on ya. You know not to question.” He takes his own sip.

Dany felt her eye twitch, “You ain’t know nothin’ about me. What railroad’s this shipment rollin’ in on?” She dismissed his inference.

”Followin’ Soul’s River.” Carlos responded.

Dany mumbled, a sigh leaving her lips, “Of fuckin’ course…” She looked back at Carlos, “And dawn, you said? Any more specific?”

”You know not to question.” He squints, repeating his statement.

Dany lets out a defeated sigh, ”Fair enough.”

***

Pau browsed racks of rifles and revolvers in Revenant’s Rifles, noting the new shopkeeper behind the counter.

’Seems like Thomas got what he saw coming.’ Pau smirked subtly to herself.

She averted her gaze back to the racks, setting her hand on a pristine and shiny Buffalo Rifle, her fingertips gliding over the fresh engraving on the hilt. An eagle, the symbol of freedom.

Pau felt like she was entranced, failing to realize a man standing next to her, “Excuse me,” He said, “May I take a look at this rack?”

She broke out of her trance, noticing that this voice sounded familiar. Pau looked over at the man, scanning his black goatee, his long curly hair, and the mischievous glint in his eye. “You…” She grumbled.

”Paulina.” He smirked, “Been a while?”

”Trouble always follows the Villamizars, you know I don’t want trouble, Alex.”

”Just gazin’ at guns, Paulina, I don’t want no trouble this round.” He raised his hands, as if he was surrendering.

”Gazin’ at Jesse’s bounty, you and I both know it.”

A heavy silence followed the two.

Pau watched as Alex slowly reached for his pistol in his holster, “Trouble followed you here, didn’t it?” She squinted.

Tenacity struck Alex, “I don’t wanna duel in no gun store, but your attitude really makes me wanna pull this trigger…”

A silence overtook the two, Pau’s hand firmly placed on the small handle of her pistol, still withheld in the holster. “I think you should go.”

Pau’s words were disregarded, the two’s hands drew their guns up right to each other’s foreheads in a matter of milliseconds, a close quarters duel like this could only end in disaster.

People already began to file out in fits of fear, the shopkeeper included, not even bothering to intervene within his store.

”You sure what you’re doing will be worth it, Villamizar?” Pau cocked an eyebrow, “We both know you won’t be pullin’ that trigger quick enough.”

”I can’t wait ‘til I don’t have to hear your gratin’ voice in my ears ever again… Your tongue will be splat all over these here damn walls.” Alex gripped his pistol tighter.

”Could’ve at least went with a better stance.”

Alex was confused by this statement, his thoughts interrupted by an upward jerk of his arm, he shot his pistol, only for it to hit the ceiling.

Pau had a hold of his wrist, countering his shot and kicking him in the ribs.

The air left his lips as he stumbled backwards, his gun falling out of his hand in the process. “Bitch!” He exclaimed.

”Yeah, I know.” Pau spoke coldly, taking advantage of Alex’s stunned state, slamming her hilt of her pistol into his temple, sending him crashing to the ground. Salt to wound, Pau kicked his teeth.

She kneeled down to him, the barrel of her pistol pressed into his forehead, “Trouble’s journey ends here, Alex.” She watched his eyes trail the barrel of the gun, “I’ll let Paulo and Vito know you ain’t comin’ back, don’t wanna keep them waiting on a ghost.”

Bang.

Chapter Text

The moon was a ghost lantern in the clouds, barely casting light over the sweeping desert below. A chill wind whispered across the hills where the three waited, hearts pacing in rhythm with the distant chug of steel and steam.

Dany knelt behind a ridge just west of the tracks, her rifle cradled against her bruised ribs, her shoulder stiff beneath her jacket. Sweat mixed with the dirt on her face as she watched the dim lanterns of the freight train roll slowly across the horizon.

They were exactly where they needed to be.

Below, Pau crouched in the shadows of a scraggly cluster of trees, dynamite in her hands, the fuse wired back toward the ridge. Her hat was low over her eyes, jaw clenched, one hand steadying the plunger.

Ale stood with Whiskey at her side, eyes locked on the train. Her fingers hovered over the handles of her revolvers, her breath even. Calm. Controlled. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

This was the moment they’d been grinding toward, bleeding toward. The end of Jesse Holloway.

The train neared the curve they had chosen—just before the old bridge crossing Redwater Gorge. That’s where the trap would spring.

Pau’s voice crackled through the silence, barely audible. “Now?”

Dany nodded once. “Do it.”

The fuse snapped.

Seconds later, BOOM.

A roar tore through the desert night as the dynamite exploded, throwing fire and dust into the sky. The entire rear section of the train jumped off the rails, derailing in a twisted, shrieking mess of metal and smoke.

Horses screamed. Men shouted.

Then came the gunfire.

Jesse’s gang, already in motion, were thrown into disarray. Half were trying to break into the payroll car—now twisted sideways in the wreck. The others scrambled to recover, weapons drawn.

From the ridge, Dany opened fire, her first shot cracking through the chest of a man as he climbed out of a derailed car.

Pau was already running, climbing over the rocks toward the wreck with her shotgun slung across her shoulder. Her boots slammed against the ground, her eyes scanning the chaos for a familiar face.

Ale followed beside her, quicker, calmer. She dove through the smoke as bullets zipped past.

Then everything blurred into motion.

Gunfire. Screams.

Ale ducked behind a fallen train wheel just as a shot exploded inches above her head. She spun and fired, catching a man in the thigh, dropping him to the gravel.

Whiskey barked furiously, charging through the fray, teeth bared. He lunged at a man trying to take aim at Dany from behind, slamming into him full force.

Ale rose, only to find herself staring down a young man—barely twenty, with a face far too clean for what he was about to do. His revolver shook in his hands.

“You killed my brother!” he screamed.

Ale’s eyes narrowed. Javier Morales’ kid brother.

“Go home,” she warned. “You don’t want this.”

He screamed again, firing wildly. Ale ducked, rolled, and in a breath she was on him, kicking his arm aside and landing a hard elbow to his gut. He stumbled, but came back swinging.

They traded blows, his rage giving him strength, but Ale was faster—more precise. Her fist connected with his jaw. He crumpled to the ground with a groan.

“I warned you,” she muttered, spitting blood.

Pau had found the other half of the gang and was in the middle of it, a blur of fury and grit. Her shotgun barked, dropping one of Jesse’s men in a single blast. She swung the stock into another’s face and grabbed his revolver mid-fall, firing backward into another gunman charging at her.

Through the smoke, she saw Jesse’s shadow, ducking low, sprinting toward the horses. Her teeth clenched. She raised her weapon—

“Pau!” someone shouted.

A figure tackled her from the side, knocking the shotgun from her hands. The man’s face was twisted with fury, nose broken, blood down his chest.

“You’re dead,” he hissed. “Jesse’s gonna hang your head over Redwater Bridge.”

“Try it,” Pau growled.

They fought brutally—bare hands, boots, knives. She took a punch to the ribs that nearly dropped her, but came back with a headbutt and a dagger drawn from her boot.

Steel sliced flesh. He went down, choking on his own blood.

She grabbed her gun and kept moving.

Dany stumbled through the splintered train door and came face to face with a familiar face.

Elias Rourke.

Time stopped.

His uniform was half burned, his face scarred from battles past, but his voice was unmistakable.

“You.”

Dany raised her weapon, hands trembling. “You were working with him… All this time?”

Rourke gave a cruel smile. “You were too soft, Dany. Still bleeding for the right thing. That’ll get you killed.”

She fired. He moved.

The bullet clipped his arm, sent him crashing backward into a bench. He drew his own gun and they both dove for cover as shots cracked off the car’s walls, shattering glass and wood.

“Jesse’s plan would’ve built a new order!” Rourke bellowed. “The army, the outlaws, the whole damn west united under one law—ours!”

“You’re insane,” Dany hissed.

Rourke charged. She met him in the aisle. Fists, knees, elbows. Pain lit up her injured side but she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

She slammed him into a table. He brought a knife across her shoulder. She screamed, pulled her sidearm, and shot him point-blank in the gut.

He dropped.

Breathing hard, Dany stumbled toward the exit.

Outside, Jesse had reached his horse.

He was bleeding, hat gone, coat tattered. But his eyes still burned with that same wild fire.

He swung into the saddle—just as Pau burst from the smoke, shotgun raised.

He turned.

“Ain’t this familiar,” Jesse said with a grin.

“Get off the damn horse,” Pau barked.

Ale moved to flank him, her gun drawn.

Dany stepped out last, limping, blood soaking through her bandage.

Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “Thought I lost you in the fire.”

“You tried,” Dany said coldly.

For a moment, the world paused. Dust blew across the wreckage. The train still smoldered in the background. Screams echoed faintly from the battlefield.

Then Jesse’s eyes flicked to the canyon trail behind him.

He kicked the horse.

Gunfire erupted.

Ale fired, clipping Jesse’s leg, but not stopping him.

Pau shot again, missing by inches as he disappeared over the ridge.

“Shit!” Pau screamed, chasing after him—but Ale grabbed her arm.

“Let him go.”

“He’s getting away!”

“We’re alive. That’s what matters.”

Pau stood trembling with rage. Dany staggered to them, barely standing.

“He’ll be back,” Dany muttered. “He’s lost his men. His plan. He’s got nothin’ but hate left.”

Ale holstered her gun. “Then next time... we finish this.”

They stood there for a long moment, the flames of the ruined train behind them, the scent of gunpowder thick in the air.

Bruised. Bleeding. But alive.

For now.