A wild mustang gallops across the plain, sheer fright coursing through its heart, rippling muscles along its snow white flank. It moves with all it knows it must do, can do. And that is get as far away as it can.

Behind it are whips, ropes, and guns. It does not look back, it keeps racing, over incline and down grade of hill into flat gulley, slowing to a canter as the sounds die behind it.

It trots towards some grass and begins to chew. Fear leaving its eyes, ears relaxing.

A bullet enters its hind.

It takes off again, a mad dash, right into net. It's legs are bound in rope, it whinnies in panic, confusion and hopelessness. It is dragged away and thrown into the back of a wooden pick up.

Small pebbles and stones skittered across the second story window of a Dockside house. Then again. And again, as Madison picked up some more roadside grit, dropped it into a palm, sprinkled a bit of dust out and aimed it. A few minutes passed and finally a pane was heaved open and Betsy, Michael's Mother, acknowledged her and told her he was around somewhere, when another second story window opened and there he was waving at her. Cue his Mother sealing the sill and Michael running downstairs, leaving a sad white curtain to whip in the wind and haze.

He opened the door and swaggered over, enfolding her in a hug, which she returned with a big smile. "Good to see you're ok" as she studied his face, sensing something about him as he stepped back, shoving his hands in his coverall pockets, the buckles undone so the straps hung from his waist.


"Jus' been kinda quiet, work at the yard's is slow. Sickness, rumours, murder -- kinda does that."

Madison grinned at him and laughed. "You haven't been to Zeal's in a while. Unusual for you."

He edged over to the wrecked pavement, looked off down the way. "After Big One I jus' didn't wan' trouble. All this Mako stuff. I knew it was gon' rain sooner 'r later."

The gunslinger watched him a moment, nodding. "Someone told me that when we choose safety, we reinforce fear. And you know, he was right. And I also know you're not a coward."

The young man stirred, looking to her, flaring his nostrils as he gave a big smile. Laughed. "Yeah? I think I'd rather do nothing then wind up dead."

"Who is after you?"

"Beau has always wanted me dead. I just get under his skin too much."

"Then don't.", she remarked.

"But he's a c#ck. I can't help myself."

"Well no one can help you but yourself, Mikey. Have you ever used a gun?"

He shook his head, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Wouldn't have a clue, Madi. Not a clue in the world." He lifted a fist from his pocket, punched the air.

"That's not going to stop the monsters. Or the Big One's of the world, m'dear."

He shrugged. "Then I'll die, so what!" he laughed it all off.

"Michael."

His laughed gave away, and he leant back, looking at her intensely.

"I have an offer to make you. But if you're going to be harbinger of doom ..."

"Ok, drop it."

"When's your Birthday, firstly?"

"September.", he replied. Liking the sound of this.

"I'll get you a gun. I'll teach you how to shoot. But only if you come to Zeal's and keep an eye on the Docks for me. On Brentan. On Andy."

He arched a brow and thought about it, dropping his weight from foot to foot. "Okay. But why?"

Madison pulled out a few bills, handed them over. "Happy Birthday, Michael...." She smirked as he took the notes, crumpled them, stashed them away in his pockets.

"You know I can't get into that. But you're not in any danger by talking with me. If anyone sees us, just be honest - say we're friends. That's no lie." Word had gotten around the Yards about her visits. They knew by now that if she turned up on your doorstep it was for a reason; though not the one they wished it was.

He smiled softly at her and took a step back. "So when will I next see you, when you want some info by?"

"Next time you hear pebbles on your window."

He chuckled and turned around to head back inside. She smiled to his departing back and headed back to Ghost Town.

Charlie, Check and Laurice stood staring at the door of Zeal's, waiting for her to come through.

And when they heard that whistle, each of them froze. Check gripping the Wanted posted in hand, Charlie's mug and plate shaking, Laurice looking to the floor. None of them had words. They couldn't speak.

She came breezing in with a bright smile to all.

They all shared the same thought -She hadn't seen it yet!


Madison was seemingly unaware of their expressions as she sat herself down.

The mug tittered. Teetered. Fell. Black coffee a black puddle on the old wooden floor.

She looked over to it, then up to Charlie, and to the others.

"I know."

Charlie placed a quivering hand onto her shoulder. "We're going to keep the place shut until this is all over. We're going to help."


Madison frowned, shook her head. "You can't do that Charlie. You need the business."

He gripped her shoulder, and the other two came over, with somber faces.

"We need you more, girlie. You changed the face of our lives bein' here. Woke us up. We're gonna git you outta dis."

Her eyes watered.

They all tried to smile.

Looking down, she swallowed that stone in her throat and fell against him, sobbing.

There is so much you might never know about me. And I know I would be the last to tell you all of it.

In the blue light on old sheets they made love.

Starlight was fierce out there, and the harvest time was nearing. The world seemed a little different during that period, and the animals would get mad in the farm, the horses would race around at midnight - how they behaved on a Full Moon.

The clouds decorated the sky in violets and indigos and the whole land seemed brighter and the white of the house was a spectral thing, haunting the distance with its melancholy amidst an otherwise very naked landscape.


They tossed and turned. There were no shared sentiments, no bites or passionate kisses, no groans, no pleading, just the rustle of sheets, the quiet breaths of two who needed release, who had waited long, who were impatient.

And afterwards, sitting side by side, perspired, lethargic, sharing a cigarette between them, they smiled, laughed and she caressed her stomach. A large blue cloud sailed across the Moon.

"We are going to have a daughter. And her name is Madison. Little spirit, come from the stars. Our lucky babe. I can feel her already."

He took her hand and exhaled. He could feel their daughter. Knew already what she would look like. Mothers eyes and Fathers hair.

Charlie was seated in the back room on a stool shining his shoes when Madison came moseying in, smiling at him.

"Hey girlie. Place up an' runnin' jus' fine. Thanks fer your help the other night."

The 'slinger just shrugged and sat herself down on the blanketed couch, throwing one leg over the other and sinking down. "Michael been in?"

Renauldt nodded. "Big One hasn't. I think the worst has happened for us. Don't know 'bout their enemies though."

He shook his head and coughed, getting out a hankerchief to wipe at his watery cloud blue eyes. He sneezed, and then met her gaze.

"So where you been every Fridee night? You stopped comin' for after hours drinks. Noodlin' with that creepy, angry lookin' fella that came in 'ere wit' you a fortnigh' back?"

Creepy guy? Angry guy? Oh. Sal!

"No. I don't see much of him outside of our working together. I hardly see anyone, Charlie."

"Hm." he said disbelievingly, with a wink.

"What?"

"Sure you ain't noodlin' wit' no one?"

"Yes. I'm occupied on a Friday but I'm not canoodling in the least. I'm helping a friend."

"He creepy an' angry or failin' dat got stuffin' fer 'is brains?"

Madison laughed outright and shook her head. "His name is Karras."

Charlie frowned.

"Know him then?"

"Hm. Magicians. Why can't you be friends with normal people, girl?"

She hung her head and combed back some hair. "You should come see us perform."

"Holy Cows. You a magician now too? What in the world!"

"I'm helping a friend."

"I'll come meet him alright. Hm. So what about these rangers then?"

"We need to talk."

With a nail held steady between her teeth, hammer raised and knocking, she secured the pieces of timber into the wall. Taking the nail from her lips she tapped it firmly into the last hole and turned, to take up a few regal purple drapes and arrange them as curtains across the front window as privacy for the Enigma.

Behind her, sitting on a chair with a vacant stare, was Shu.

"Think she will like it, Shu?"

The petite woman with almond eyes, straight black hair and still in her black performers suit, somewhere between demon queen and acrobat did not answer, just blinked.

"What's that, you don't like it?" hand to her hip Madison regarded the hypnotised Angel of Truth with a note of amusement creeping through her pale gaze. "You sit right there, I won't be long", the rain dancer humoured, turning back to take up some burnt orange drapes as she took a step ladder to nail the thick cloth to the ceiling in a make shift partition, so that Ba'Shara had a place to dress herself. While up there she peeled a small bulb from her pocket and affixed it to the wires she had threaded through prior. The wattage wasn't the best, but then she supposed Ba'Shara preferred the dim anyway; the Egyptian being incandescent enough, better than any light fixture could effuse.

Striding over to check the front door, pulling it forward and pushing it back, listening for any groans, she smiled. Done and dusted.

"Ok Shu, now let's get you gone."

She walked back over to the lax limbed Angel and untied her. Shu rose obediantly to Madison's commands, as she took her hand and led her onto the street. A few moments later, outside, Madison whispered in the woman's ears, and Shu returned to herself. She turned and smacked the 'slinger across the arm, spat at her feet "You bad woman! No belly magic for you again!" and took off running. Madison just watched her, unimpressed. It was Shu, after all, who had attacked Madison, needling her. Now that the 'slinger had some questions answered for Karras, she was done with the annoying Angel, and glad to see her gone.

Looking back to the shamble of a two story once-hotel, Madison found a smile again, bright and cheerful. The Enigma could dress the place as she saw fit, but for now it would do.

Locking the place up, tool bag in hand, she took off down the road, headed back to Zeals, whistling all the way.

A Changing of Hearts

"I'm not the fastest sometimes, Madi. And having this big a$s gun in my hand is kinda intimidatin' "

"You keep telling yourself your slow and scared and you are. Just sucker up, Mikey. Focus on the paint can. Stare at it until you are absolutely certain your want could knock it down."

Michael sighed a bit, righted his slack shoulders and held the revolver high, aimed in a perfect straight line for the can. He narrowed his eyes and tried to see this, tried to want it to fall.

"And when you are certain it's about to fall because you're staring at it so hard, you can almost see it wavering.. Fire."


They had already been through this five times, and now on his sixth go he decided he had to either give it one last true go, get that feeling happening or quit; he'd be wasting her time otherwise.

He glanced over at her, she smiled encouragingly, and he squinted ahead of him, and for a second there that paint can of blue black seemed to shake and before he knew it, in reflex, his finger was pressing the trigger, the chamber was clicking and a slug was flying across the field and whacking that can's rim so that it was actually shaking, spinning and falling off the wooden beam like a drunken dancer.


Madison gave a yahoo, clapped and tousled at his hair. He looked over, cringed in both embarassment and a quiet, fierce pride and slung an arm around her shoulders, hugging her.

"Thanks Mad."

"Anytime, cowboy."

He laughed and stepped back, lifting up the gun and staring at it. It felt right in his grip, like when you grab a girl's hand and something just turns over inside.


He aimed that gun at that nowhere ahead, the pink haze of late afternoon, squinted, and grinned. Then lowered his hand, and did it again, assuming the shooters stance quicker this time.

"Going to be calling you QuickDraw soon, huh", she smirked, and he just grinned, staring down his arm. Yeah. Soon.

With Check she sat staring at the cards in front of her. She had won the last game and was now fighting sadly for her title. Laughter swarmed around her, lifting her spirits, as she watched the men at the table. Check would look at her constantly, curious about her misty blue gaze and where it was going when it was glazed and faraway.

As they left later, walking side by side, playfully shoving one another onto the curb "God stop running into me!" Shove. " You're so clumsy." Puuuuush. Laughing all the way until the humour disappeared as it did and he looked at her solidly and asked if she was alright.

"Bad Moon." and she barely nodded at the sky but it had him looking at the luminous maiden up there, Luna, staring with her one good huge white eye at them all. "Is it really? I prefer to blame it on men then the stars."

Madison smiled wistfully and chased his gaze to the neverending wild blue yonder up there. They passed a piano hall still beating out its honky tunes, heels still kicking up, and then a small family coming back from the Circus. Strings of balloons in the childrens hands, the balloons imprinted with the outlines of tigers and seals and kittens and dolphins.

"I can't blame it all on men anymore, Check. Not after what I've seen. My only constant in this life has been the starlight and I'm not giving up on it yet, and all it has to tell me."


He smiled at her words as they slowed, the door to his place coming up. "Charlie said you are seeing someone. Going to bring him around?"

"Seeing somone?" She looked genuinely bewildered by this news.

"Oh come on Mad. You should bring him around. Laurice and I would like to meet him."

She laughed, breathlessly, and lifted knuckles to her cheek, thoughtfully. "I am sorry, Laur but I really have no idea who you are talking about."

"A magician?"

Madison looked down, swallowed and chuckled. "I--"

He looked to the sky, held himself back a second before finding what he wanted to say too irresistable.

"Madi, my Mama used to say the person you think about when you look at the night sky is one you're heart wants. If you look up there and think of him, or whoever it is that caused that look on your face that Charlie said you wore when speaking about him.." He paused, smirked, "Then go for it. There's no doubt any good man would want you. There's a light in your eyes lately, I mean, there always is, but this one is different."

Taken a back, her shoulders rolled forward and she laced her fingers and watched him for a long space.

"Thanks L.", her voice tiny.

"Night Madison." He headed off for his door and slipped inside. Laurice rarely spoke so candidly. It moved her.

A rain dancer left alone on the street with the night sky and a dozen thoughts, the heaviest that of her ginger haired companion. Perhaps a star shimmered like ice blue eyes at her, maybe she noticed, maybe she did not, but as she walked back home, she was smiling. A feeling inside as old as the hills. Burgeoning and honest.

Memories And What They Make

"What do you want to be when you grow up Madi?"

"I don't know", she answered softly, stirred breathless with quiet wonder, watching as larks passed above them in the twilight, her chin balanced on her hands, rested on the gate of the fence, where the horses danced beyond, racing under the Full Moon. They had stood there for almost an hour, chatting and watching the mare and stallion and their intricate, silent dance. Communicating with one another with no more than the flick of a tail, the stamp of hooves, the nudge of a face to a flank, with the kick of dust behind them.

"I think I would like to ride a horse forever very far and save people that are hurting. I would like that."

Her cousin turned to look at her, young Madi, nine years old with that dreamy little white face, lit up even more so by the light of the sky, of the bonfire that burned nearby.

"Why's that?" asked Bob, her cousin, as he walked a stick person along the fence, up to tap Madison on the arm. Madison turned and laughed and then looked up at him with such a look that went beyond her years, so somber, so sweet, so knowing, that even then, at fourteen, that he dropped that stick person, reached down to fumble in the grass and pick it back up. Madison reached out to assist him straight away, find the little stick person with his cotton shoes and bits of dried grass for hair, lying somewhere in the shadows at their sneaker clad feet. They knocked heads accidentally, and both reached for the stick person at the same time as a streak of golden firelight threw itself across their way with the bending of branches in the gentle breeze.

"I want to help people. Somebody has to." And she just looked at him, her eyes twinkling, her smile a diamond and handed him the stick and skipped off to stare at the bonfire and roast some marshmellow.

Charlie returned to the lip of the door to Zeal's with a tight face and a tight fist. He kicked at the step with an edge coming off of him, his eyes dark and his demeanor of a man troubled.

He helped himself inside after a walk through Ghost Town to visit all of his Happy Phantom's haunts. But he came up dry. She was no where to be found. Not a trace. Not a feeling of her anywhere. If she wasn't up to her neck in strife and up a certain creek without a paddle (at least she had a gun!, he figured) he would have given it some time, probably let it go. But he could not. Not with the Four Horsemen of Lofton on their way to drag her down some dirty trail to her grave. He couldn't stop thinking the worst. Had her in his head saying "Smile, Charlie, all is going to be okay", but not even her sweet voice could do him good.

His belly was telling him otherwise.

When Madison did not show up for a shift he knew something along the way had gone wrong, something had come into her path and set her astray. Madison no matter what had befallen her the last few weeks had made every single shift she said she could, and had always told him in good notice when she could not. He balled and loosened his fits, almost of the mind to take a big walk on down to that scurvy theatre and give some words to that Andy. But after what he did to Andy he knew he could not. The shmuck hadn't come back to his territory, and Charlie would not go near his the same.

But well now Sunday was almost dead and he was getting tired, but his worries were shaking like a fart through a chicken's ass and he was getting the antsies. He ambled over to the back room and used the old dialler to get in touch with Check and Laurice.

"Seen 'er 'roun' or what?"

"No Charles. I was sleeping all day.." There was a yawn and the mumble of a woman's voice in the background. Charlie held the phone away from his face, frowned and hung up on Check.

"Laurice?"

"Yo Boss. What's new? Need me?"

"Seen the girl?"

"Huh?"

"Madion cotton-'ead. Madison. She didn't show up!"

"I haven't seen her since Thursday."

Charlie sighed and Laurice spoke up, offering a few short words to ease the old fellow. They hung up amicably, Laurice to make a sandwich and Charlie to sit alone on his lounge and stare straight ahead, thinking up all the possibilities that had kept the gunslinger from her bar duty. Maybe she had overslept? Maybe she was held up at the Clinic?

And so Charlie Renauldt sat there, fretting, balling and loosening his fists.

Elegy for the Old Days

In the windtorn fields on a summer's day she rested in the crook of a great tree watching the horizon. Nearby was Marigold, chewing on some grass, and all was peaceful.

It was before she had raised a gun at a man and shot him dead. Before she had met a man who swept her off of her feet and soon become wed.

It was a time when she was just a wanderer. Moving from place to place, staying for a while to work her magic, and move along.

And then the day had come when the Sheriff had whispered in her ear, said "I know what your Papa taught you as a kid. You got a mean arm for a girl." And younger Madison had ignored him, met him with a reproachful stare and a shake of the head. No. She would not do this.

And then a child had wound up by the side of the road. Dead. Covered in her own vomit, in her own blood. As Madison picked her up the body was still warm, and of no doing of the sun that shone above. The blood still fresh, painting her shirt in its red rumour.


And it was then and there that she had decided to take the Sheriff up on his offer. To do more than teach the reservation kids how to defend themselves, how to braid, how to cook

And it had been defining.


Sometimes she wondered what she might have done if she had stayed a little longer on that root of the old gnarled tree, watched the crows, marveled at the empty land. No house nor hill on yonder for miles and miles.

What are a couple moments worth, she asked herself, in the quiet, as she washed a man's blood from her gentle, pale hands after her first kill?


A lot.

Better part of his day had been spent chasing geese.

Turned nothing but the sweat from his skin.

His last resort at the end of his three day search was the crumpled piece of paper in his vest pocket, sitting against his heart. Ambrosio Enterprises.

He stood waiting for his call to be received, phone clasped against his head as he dried a glass with a teatowel, staring at the window.

"Hey, uh, could I speak to a .. uh "

He unfurled the paper, stared hard. His spectacles were out in the back room. He strained his eyes, they cleared for a brief moment, and blurred again. But he got the gist.

"Salva, Salvador? He 'dere?"

He found himself clinging to that phone, as he put down the glass and curled the cord around his wrist anxiously.

All he could think of was the Rangers now. Julian was dead so maybe they had struck like lightning. It jus' wasn't like her to not let him know what was going on.

She had told him once that there was a motto as burned into her as that thirteen on her mid back. "Never leave a trace, or forget a face at the table." She lived it everyday. A modus operandi.

Maybe she had gone. Gone on the wind.

"He's not? Could I leave a message? Tell him to call Charlie, her Boss, on 444 Zeals. It's uh.. urgent, if you wouldn't min' addin' that. Thanks."

And he hung up. A curse leaving his mouth, a swear at the heavens.

With mischief framing her face in those wild malt tendrils, braided into plaits, one either side of her head and winding down her shoulders, the rain dancer crept out the front door of the hotel and snuck over to Marigold, in the violet darkness of a stable. In a sundress worn by the moon, slipped from her old trunk, with trusty hat and boots, she mounted her coal black mare and took a quiet ride down to the Glen for the stream. Along the way she enjoyed the view, of the evening soaked streets. Of children rag-a-tagging, hide-and-seeking, of lovers strolling hand in hand, of men falling onto the street in punches, from bars where steaming calliopes piped the music for mad dancing, to those where jazz scattered and electrified... What a town. She crunched at her apple, reigns loose in her other hand, the two took their time to dance the darkness down to the waters edge.

Their destination, and the decision to leave so late, chosen by the knowledge of a woman who recognised the rhythm, the Calling, like a child knows it Father's whistle from a thousand others to come off the street and inside for dinner.

It was a rare hour that happened only when summer awoke again from her cosy slumber after Winter roared with its snowy exhalations. When a person could find the magic in the summetime whooshing of trees overhead, in the peaceful warmth of alcoves between fallen trunks that made archways, perfumed with moss and hidden rain. A time where the world was blue and whispering. So vitally alive.

Fit, it was, for a midnight swim.

And then she basked in the moon and starlight, and dried. Sat watching the sky with her hat on her stomach and head to a rock, counting the constellations, while Marigold chewed at the tasty oats from a bag laid on a bed of leaves.

When dreams began to near them both, they returned to Ghost Town, along the so-familiar night roads. Crickets still seeming to chirp in her hair, kingdoms of grass still whispering their green secrets to her ears, her skin painted in cold water tingles.

She smiled, all joy and calm.

And for the first time in a few nights, had the pleasure of her own bed, her own space and breath.


Saturday and the few days following it had been long, but pleasant, and necessary. Another letter from Lofton gave her no argument when she awoke in Karras' arms in some unknown place. She needed to hide. It would become a way of life for a while.

He had become her closest friend. A companion to stand with against the oncoming tide. To learn how to swim alongside against the criminal surf.

Friends were not something Madison had forged successfully for several years, being conscious of who she was and what that might mean for them. But Karras was different in that he possessed a danger to rival, if not outdo, her own proclivity for it, even though his methods were different. He was such a man that she had no fear of bringing that skein of violence home with her, because he could wear it, and wear it well. Unlike Charlie, who despite all his soul, all his own mastery, was a fragile one.

Together, Magician and Gunslinger made a formidable pair.

It is funny what guilt does to a person. I told Brentan to keep his words soft with me in case he has to eat them, and it started another tirade from him telling me to keep out. But he apologised before he left, was soaking with doubt. I don't like to speak ill of a soul, but I'm starting to feel the fires inside. I hold no resentment, but I'm mad at him for spilling on me, for telling about the tip offs, about what I know of his brother. I didn't want this but it's begun.

After tomorrow I'm going to have to leave the hotel. Although I said I wouldn't go back, Golgotha is looking like the only resort I have.

I'm going to have to get in touch with Sal and Skid ASAP. Things are rotten down at the Docks and if we don't get into them before it all thunders, we won't be able to at all. Not unless I can talk to someone who runs it, but those sorts are few and they wouldn't want to spare me the time once they hear a woman's voice through the door.

So I'm formulating a plan. I need to chat to them about it. See what we can rig together.

"Do you believe in angels?"

"No."

Eli handed her a corner, where he took the other, and they fanned that blanket spreading it over the dead leaves, dead grass.

"You look like the sort", he said, taking up the picnic basket and removing the bottle of white wine. His eyes catching the reflections of dying sunlight. Madison just looked at him, laughing.

"I know", he was laughing too, as he sat down, removing the cork while she got to her knees and smoothed out her pale green dress with one hand, the other holding up a glass to be filled.

"But I don't think a lot of people would think you are what you are."

"What then? A princess from castle high?", she smiled at him, holding up the next glass and taking the first to her painted lips, swept in rosegold.

"No. Just not a woman who works out in the land. There's a gentleness to you, a real..", he clicked his fingers, accepting his own glass from her as he slid the bottle back away. "A real honest to goodness femininity about you, wholesomeness. A lot of these rancher women are rough. Their morals gone to the wind. We all come to expect their attitudes. And considering I'm one of the few who knows about your other work. What you do for the Sheriff. Well. It just blows my mind Mz. Rye."

"So I seem a little god fearing?" she asked, amused.

"No, that's not quite it."

Madison just sat on her knees, smiling, behind the crystal in her hand.

"But there you were, seeming innocent as new grass and yet you were taking me down to the river to muck around after my Brother's wedding."

And they laughed down the sun, under pink clouds that told the world tomorrow would be another hot day. "Yeah. You sure surprised me there. You little devil... But that is what I like about you. You are like nothing else, Madison. Nothing else."

They kissed and cuddled, and soon their affection translated into a quiet need under a tree on a lonely hillside. Wine forgotten for a time.

"I want you to be my wife."

He had said it so suddenly. They had hardly popped their buttons back through their clothes when it came out of him. He was sitting there smiling, his dirty blonde hair all over his face, his cheeks still flushed.

And she had said Yes right away.

The moon soaked hotel room that was her latest hide out was covered in maps. Pinned to walls (some without tacks but with the aid of her throwing knives), all over her bed and the raw floorboards in one corner, beneath a lamp. It eventually got to such a point that she threw her hands into her hair, bent her knees and slouched forward, exhausted. Her head hurt. Her eyes. And it was getting late.

Shifting up and stretching, Madison yawned and walked over to her bed, to fold the pieces of paper up and stow them away into a drawer. Followed by the few in the corner under the gas light, but leaving those stuck to the wall in place. They were, afterall, her most helpful drawings, the best yet out of the lot. She gave a sigh and walked up to the most recent one sketched and followed the line down the page where it dove into a sharp bend and moved back up for what was meant to be the meadow. Yes. That was the way to get in the Big Top the quickest and the least detectable.

She smiled then and shrugged out of her jacket, loosened and remove her belt and buckle, her shirt, her boots, jeans and pulled on her nightrail, switching off the lamp and curling under the covers. The window open enough so that air fragrant with journeys and beginnings floated in. Covered her warmed skin in pleasant chills. It always felt better where there was a plan.

Skid and Sal had proven to be better than she could have imagined in the first assault on the Big Top, and now with Cal on side and a host of other people who had wandered into the stage, she felt like the end was near. At least, to some of the Circus, for now.

It was lying there, smiling and enjoying the wind, that she heard the sound of scraping beneath her door. Sitting up immediately, she threw her legs from the sheets and reached under her pillow for the pistol, watching the shadow of two feet cast along the floor like a watery darkness, green and blue in this late hour. Quietly, she snuck for the door as soon as the letter was slipped under. Snatched it, opened it and frowned.


Stepping back and falling to sit on her beside, gun rested beside her, Madison composed herself, fighting the tears that burned. And then she walked to her wall, removed a throwing knife from one of the maps, and stabbed it into the heart of the Lofton letter.

The Hexx Brothers.

Just words. But enough to sting. A bitter laugh.

A hand moved to her forehead, and she sat forward. So much for that shine on her brow.

This was not good. She knew who the Four were.

Maybe she ought to just resort to her first plan. Let them have their trial.

She wouldn't run away forever.

One day it would catch up with her.

On the foot of the bed she sat staring into the thick, blank darkness before her.


Betrayal hurt like a bitch. Everytime she thought back to the last few hours her chest would seize and her throat would contract. Her tears were helpless things, choked.


She felt dirty. She felt so very young and naive.

She felt exactly as she had when she had first met Karras. After he had played his first round of games.

Except that somewhere along the line she had come to care about him.


It was all a lie. The Angels of Truth, the rivalry with his Cousin, his fear over her.


Madison had been nothing more than a prop. Than a Doll.


The rain dancer could not bring herself to sleep beside Tavarius upon her return, remained with her back to the wall and her knees to her chest, watching the door with dread.

Why her? Why was she the one chosen to be made a mockery of?

Why?


Her head in her hands she sobbed. She had gone to the Hall seeking escape. In any way. "Please. Make me disappear."

And it was all the magicians had wanted all along. They had led her along with promises. Escape artistry. No. Just to be theirs. To be defiled. To be graffitied with all their spooky skills and sideshow tricks.

Madison could not stand herself. Could not stand that she had let it happen. She should have listened to Fio. "You don't have to do things you don't want to." But what if some part of you wants to?

But that was a lie to. Bred in her from the moment she had fatefully locked eyes with that snake oil merchant.

She had called him so straight up, and yet allowed herself to be enchanted.


Never again.


That medicine of his still in her heart, her head.

If she saw that man again, she would not hold back. Not one bit.


A freak she was not. But it hurt all the same. Deception leaving her wearier than before, spent, and sober.

Madison laced the black corset over brown blouse, fitted her belt with a few mithrils from Suliss, David's dagger, three of her own throwing knives, both revolvers clipped to her hips, and the rifle.

Braiding her hair was a ritual itself, much like the loading of bullets, the shining of the gun, the oiling of the chamber, the washing of blood from hands, the sharing of kisses with her vagabond, the bathing, the waking up, the eating breakfast. Her routine had changed but there was always method; the Rain Dancer was not an arbitrary sort. Every single thing she did was of own and meant. Apart from when she had wandered brainless within the clutch of the hypnotist. Everything else was a decision. Was a choice.

Her heart was a cadence not unlike martial drumming, or tribal beat. A pulse her hands moved with as she set herself up, and turned, leaving behind that bed, her boyfriend, the glasses still half filled with moonshine from the night before.

Madison was not going to play nice anymore with all these bastards. Business was getting rough, and she had made the choice to fight fire with fire.

This was no longer a time of maybe's. Everything was certain. She needed to possess that very same certainty in everything she did. And when walking the fields of mayhem with her gun she was conviction exemplified.

Taking the stairs down and out of the Penny Moon, she took a deep breath in before heading to the warm, quiet, purple shadows of the stable to ready Marigold.


More than one war had begun, and Madison Rye was here to fight them. An acony bell triumphant growing through the cracks of a giant mountain. West End and its danger spread out around her, but she would rise. And she was prepared for anything.



Riding out, resplendent and sure, she tipped her hat to the sun, and headed for the dockyards, then onto Mako turf, to settle a few scores.

Soho was another rain dancer, like Madison, only he had given that way up in pursuit of remodeling champion drag strip racers that he had always had a fondness for as soon as he had gotten behind the wheel. It took his mind off the bigger picture and all that framed it. What had drawn it into being. But he was still in touch with the shamans, the dancers, the crowd that bowed their head to the turn of things and listened a little closer and a little longer to that turn than everybody else.

Nothing special, really, everyone had their talents, and this is how these spirits came into the worlds. With a knack. Their finger forever on the pulse.

Soho came walking into Seaside Sam?s just as Madison remembered him. Red tanned skin, cinnamon eyes and long jets of black hair with a bandanna wrapped around his forehead leaving the top of his head bare, like a vagrant?s crown. He still had that sure smile, which he wielded rare, usually only on meeting someone for the first time, a dash of wonder in his gaze and his hands dug down low in hip slung jeans. A half unbuttoned painters shirt and bare feet. His forearms crawled with designs, one could not call them tattoo, nor brand; they were coloured bits of story tale, art work, that each held a motif for something or someone significant.

He took a seat after they embraced for a good time, and got right into business. He never had a lot of time, not with the work he did and his need to keep his head low in these parts, away from the mechanics hole in the world he kept himself within.

?Kalais has made an exception, because you know Shaman, and she will visit Rhy?Din. You don?t have to move a muscle. But this will be no ordinary visit and you need to know her pretext and subtext first.?

?Kalais is more than a mambo mother, voodoo queen. She is a dancer like us, but esteemed because of the level of her power. But she is an Errant. Meaning, simply, that she is very much like you. Works outside of the law of things. Untouchable. And what she says literally goes. She?ll help you. she isn?t greedy or selfish or envious, she does not know these emotions, and I suppose part of that comes from the fact that her Want becomes hers. If she desires anything, anything at all, it is hers. It greater than will. It is her matrimony with forces we can?t comprehend, though we can understand it a little more than the average fool.? He gave a kind, humoured smile and carried on.

?In exchange for helping you protect the Sheriff, she will have to take a token. One part blood. One part sweat. One part tears. These are the elements of time, of chemistry, of mystery. She will bind you to her. She will then take something else of yours she wants. Not to your detriment, but what she deigns is what you need to possess the least. It could be anything, but she is merciful and thoughtful and will not take what you need.?

?I don?t like the sound of this, So. Not at all. I?ve had my fun with magicians, I?m done with it.?

?Madison, Kalais is not a magician. She is not a witch. Like I said, she is more than the title often bestowed to her, as some woman who lives and breathes the supernatural and the superstitious. She is magic. She is what everyone wants to replicate. She is the most elegant of creations because of her perfection.?


The ?slinger nodded.

?Then what will she take? How will I know who she is when I see her??

?I can?t tell you, I can?t even approximate what she will deem to be her own. She is impossible to read. But not impossible to notice. She?s a slight woman, usually in long skirts and big shirts, looks more like a street woman than what I?ve just told you she is. She?s got a big lot of hair, almost an afro but not quite, and her eyes could cut your soul in two. They?re like eyes with hooks, I've heard some say, which puts it well.?

He laughed and she just furrowed a brow, shifting in her chair.

?Soho, this sounds like a very bad idea.?

?Not as scary as you think. Just trust me.?

?You?ve been gone for years. Can I??

?I?m here, aren?t I? And think: Would Shaman send someone to undo you? Really, do you think so??

She swatted away a fly in the humid small room out back where nearby two unsavory types looked ready to mince.

?I don?t think so. No. But I refuse to sit at tables with anyone else but you and Shaman and my friends Charlie and Salvador, when it comes to matters like these. I can trust you. I can?t trust anyone else when it comes to these fathoms.?

He smiled slowly and got up, moving around the side to crouch by her and take one of her hands. He rubbed it between his and hung his head. He blessed her and stood, thumbing her jaw. ?A velo. Ma ha, ya kanoe.? And then he was gone.

The four sat around a booth in Zeal's, each with a beverage of choice, discussing the plan for the Hiding. Charlie, Laurice, Check and Madison, each with their heads bowed and speaking in low tones as the gas light flickered and the radio crackled its bluesy melody throughout the quiet, after hours meeting.

"We cannot keep all the kids, all the time, at the Clinic. Maranya has been very generous with her efforts, but it's unfair to expect that she can have a case load like that, full time. A friend of mine, Salvador, suggested I start a home for the kids. There's a possibility for this, but it is not going to be easy to get it off the ground. Particularly with where I stand now. But between watching out for the Mako, and the two investigations I've got going, this has to be a priority. If you guys can do some research for me, on anyone running a safe house, you know what to do and where to go, and I'll be very grateful."

The purse was opened on the table and split between three. Charlie took a wad, followed by Check and L. "Ok boys", she smiled, and their hearts ignited. This would get up the ground. It was possible, just going to take some time.

What wasn't so certain was Madison's fate.


"Where do things stand at the moment, Madi?"

Charlie removed his eyes from the shared gazes, sat forward. He'd let her handle this round.

"Four Rangers are hitting town in the next fortnight. That's if they have left already, as planned. They gave me a few offers to come around, to change my mind. But I've not satisfied their ideal, I refuse to."

"How'd it all start anyway?", asked Check, with an amount of regret; at asking, at knowing how that answering might be a painful subject.

"I was brought on side by the Sheriff of Lofton, Ronson, about the time my husband died. I had already been working for him, but in a different capacity, but he knew my skill set and said I would do well to take that versatility elsewhere, help out some other counties. It started off as me traveling around a few of the nearby reservations, but after a spate of murders he called me in one day, with the real wish of his burning bright as a birthday candle in his eyes. He told me his idea, the why, the how. I was to set off with the money given to me, to make things better. Help teach some more reservation kids, help clean up the towns with their criminal pockets. Can?t save everyone, can?t stop every act of injustice from happening, but I did my best.

Lofton always had its problems. Since I?ve been gone they?re got worse. Changed the Old Law, brought things into a New Era. In that era of theirs I?m the direct antithesis to everything they are building. They want to make money and a point out of my trial. That?s how it started.?


The three men shook their heads, wanting to laugh in their outrage. It was unbelievable.

"Have you considered turning yourself in? See how lenient they might be?, uttered L.

Madison just crowed and shook her head. "For all they proclaim as being the first tide of contemporary law, they are still thugs and cowboys at heart. Just a bunch of dirty eyed soldiers who are still angry at the world. Still got bones to pick. Take a young woman and stone her and you've got yourself a spectacle. Take her and hang her and it's an event"

Renauldt lifted his eyes. "Maybe you shoul' try. Better than bein' dragged out of 'ere by the pegs of your teet'."

"Charlie, those men are as crooked as a man can come. Either way I walk, I'm going to have my mortality made a show of. I am the big dance number on a platter. That's what it's all about. That's all it's about. Making an example."

They took to their drinks and toasted her.

"To freedom."

http://www.playlist.com/searchbeta/results/628612881

In a hotel room all her own again, she blasted the radio and snapped that whip to the ground. T shirt rolled up into a knot at her midriff, black denim shorts, frayed and finishing at her mid thigh, comfort and ease on this sweltering afternoon at the Penny Moon. Avenues of legs strolled back and forth in the room, that curl of leather slapping down her targets that hung from ceiling, sat on chair, wall one by one. The cocktail of emotions and the hot weather made a mean backdrop, and stress was peaking. So she had got out that whip and began working on those targets. Slap. Snap. Katitch.

Smirk curving red slicked lips, stained with rouge as she sung along and spun around on the ball of a bare foot, smacking the coil into the dresser and knocking down the three cardboard pieces rested there representing the rangers. A triumphant sway of those dangerous hips, even without a gun on either swell, and moved along to the music. Flick. Hisssssss. Katitch.


Then over to wipe her brow and watch the sunset wash the buildings into nothing more than indigo skeletons with coronas of fading sunbeams.


A visit down to the shipyards the next day. A meeting with Brentan. A meeting with Michael. And lastly, a meeting arranged between her and Beau.


Whirling from the window she lassooed the whip above her head, around and around, and brought it down along the side of her chair and smirked. Every crack of the whip gave a pinch of sharp delight. Every practice made her better and better. Next was throwing knives. Then some target practice at the old hall. Followed by a long ride out into the fields, where she would relax, unwind.

Hair spilled down to shoulders as she shook free the beads of wet and tousled loose the tangles. Dark brown again, gone the bleach.

So, the dye had been a waste of time. Maybe too was any hope of running away at all. Already one thug had tried to turn her in. What was the point in hiding for all time?

It was not possible. She knew that with her gut.

So she dared to go out to Alhambra and go dancing. That white organza-ribboned gown, a pair of beige high heeled mary janes. Rose oil to her wrists and the hollow of throat. Burnt-cinnamon lipstick.


And she would enjoy herself. If they wanted her, they could have her. She was tired of fear.

The geography of the heart is greater than I could have imagined.

My will more violent than I could have precipitated. And now tamed.

Above all, I know I am a very lucky woman, who has known true love in her life, and been blessed by the kindness of strangers in these my last days.

My worries are infinitesimal because in the end they mean nothing to the worms and the daisies. Therefore I am free.


I have given away my guns. I am only a woman now.

Insights

Pre-Kidnap - The night before - Sam Reed and Madison Rye


Their shadows receded like a dark tide behind them as they left the Red Dragon. The night roads took them in, his pace smooth, hers that saunter, with the evening coloring them in plum dark shades. Her gaze swung around for Sam. "Need to chat to you."

He followed her, a shadow too big for its lead. "Shoot."

"When you hire, do you ever hire rogues? Her eyes swept the street, swam the shadows. "You know. For jobs that are tough? Or is it strictly entertainment that you market?"

He stepped along, eyes on the road ahead. "Tough jobs?" Pull it out of her. "What kinda tough jobs are we talking about, Madison?"

Her face still stern with the unraveled moments of only minutes ago, behind them. "Heavy hands. You know what I mean.? She gave him a sidelong glance. "I was thinking of getting someone to help me. Rangers are here soon." A shivered little breath. Trying to ease. But dark thoughts grew through her mind, blossomed unbidden.

Silence, for a moment or two, held him." Yeah, I use a few different contacts. Real quiet, real discreet.? A hand closed on her shoulder for a bare moment. When it dropped, his voice returned.."What're you looking for?"

Madison slowed to a stop and turned around, lifting her face, and lightning blue eyes to his. "Help.? Almost as if she could not stand the fear in her own voice, she looked away, raking a hand back through her hair. "Just... something I can afford that might give me some backup. I can't let my dear friends walk into the fire for me. Someone else..." And that brought her gaze back to him. He was one of those special few, too.

Her eyes held worlds behind them, all brimming with things he couldn't, and wasn't sure anyone might, fathom. Made a man want to take the time, though. "Know a pair, brother and sister. Telepaths. One always watching, one always waiting. They're alright, pretty affordable?" He shrugged, almost a little put-off by her lack of allowance in participation so directly. His eyes narrowed just a little to showcase it. "Good kids in a pinch, you know?"

And a Rain Dancer?s smile broadened. So too a horizon.

"Alright." So she hangs her head, and bites her lip, working a hand around the back of one shoulder, at the persistent ache there. "Sounds good. Play it for me, Sam." Fond regard for the man, and she laughed a bit, a though crossing her mind. "You probably know everyone a girl could possibly need."

"Everyone but a coroner?, he replied flatly. "So you go an' die on me, there'll be Hell to pay." The barest glint of a smile in the back of those black forest eyes. He pulled out a phone, slid open, and punched too many keys to count before he put it back in place. "They'll contact me soon. We'll set up a meeting."


But it was too late. Before dawn, Saturday morning, Madison Rye was stolen.

Sunset

Performed by a two piece on the small stage at front, beneath orange lighting, washed in cigarette smoke and the fading sunlight. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVTZER67bxo


Twilight. A million trees to sway. A million clouds to roll in. Night time began its revelry. The moon a giant scoop of vanilla.

She sat inside Seaside Sam's nursing an untouched gin and nerves. On the table sat a cloth of velvet wrapped around one of her revolvers. A few bills stowed away with it. For his Sin. For where he chose to place it.


The crowd was small and the music slow. She pressed claret swept lips and smoothed out the pleats of her black dress. Dolled up to say thank you. To say goodbye.

6 O'Clock and no sign of the Lion. Her heart had begun to race.

He was her first friend in the city of Rhy'Din, and one of her most cherished. It would not be easy to contain the emotion she felt at this sunset in her life. But she did not want to break apart before him. Salvador, her knight in shining armour. Because this time there was no saving her. The clock would keep winding until Lofton had her. Whether it be the Hexx' or some other predator.


Ankles crossed, her eyes focusing on the spirit in the glass in her lap, its taste as yet unknown by a tight throat, held by a hand that was shaking, just a little.

August 14th XXXX

They are here.

I am alone.

For all the destruction in man
For all the corruption in my hand


Lighting some incense, she stepped away from the windowsill and unbuckled her belt, pulling it free from her waist like a dead snake, kicked off her boots, slid alabaster shoulders from blouse, peeled off her tank, slipped out of jeans, and poured on her nightrail. The sticks smoldered in the breeze. The scent spreading throughout the meager room. She took a seat on her bed and let out a sigh, running a hand back through her curls, which she began to braid as she idly stared at the wall.


The past few nights in Rhy'Din had been emotionally taxing, only, that she was distantly aware of the repercussions, and rather operated on a surface level, before moving on. Anything more would provoke her, and convinced she was that she had no more tears left in her after Lofton. Anything more and she was not a Queen of the lunatic kingdom that had unraveled before her, that was hers to undo, to sabotage, to then rebuild, to paint in hope.. once her own had been received again.


She walked in a dull edged rage, until.


Yet she recognised her rescue as a second chance. If life had not been telling her before to re-examine her choices, it certainly had now. That a man had taken upon himself to quest after her, no matter how sundry his reasons, had made Madison realise that maybe, to people, she was worth something, and that maybe she ought to respect her mortality a little better. It was a kernal to hold and look at closely. Lay off the whiskey, the cigars, the occassional cigarette, and some of the company she kept. At heart, the rain dancer was a bohemian. A hedonist. Her relationships with certain people were very revealing of her heart of hearts.. What moved her, what inspired her. Only Salvador and Karras had answered those places within her, with their innate and uncanny understanding of her motivations.


It was a period of learning to know what to ignite and what to extinguish.


There had been a time where she would have not gone a day or two without a gun. And here she was more than a week naked of one, and she had only bullets to speak of. But she supposed her lack of hunger for a gun, however much she loved the feel of one fitting into her palm, was something she ought to pay attention to. Maybe she was not meant for all time as a gunwoman. A pistoleer. The idea of gentling horses, spending more time helping out the streetkids called more and more.

But then she would flashback to the Circus, memories of all Andy had told him of Henry, and she would seethe silently. Want to maintain that road she walked like the bandit queen she really was; she knew that now. Outlaw. Gunslinger. She was no different to every robber baron, to every ditch dwelling hiker packing iron. What distinguished her was her loyalty to the Good, to helping. But if they all sat in a bar, she knew, face to face, eye to eye, tooth for tooth, all those that followed the Way of the Gun were not so disparate.


But it was often those so different to herself, she considered, as she got up from her bed to lean against the window to gaze along the street through the veiling smoke of the incense, that she was drawn towards. A new perspective. It was the bohemian in her, craving experience. It was what had led the rain dancer down to the woods to Traith's side, to sit hand and hand and contemplate the starlight they both so loved. He was unlike anyone she had known before. His hazel eyes held an awkward honesty to them; he confessed but relucant, to his naiveties, his fears, his doubts. It was refreshing and humbling to sit with him.


He had not risen her dead husband, she had not allowed it, but unbeknowest to the man himself, he had lifted her spirits, with his unique perspective, his drive for answers, no matter how dark the night could get.



And they both knew well how blinding evening deeps could be. How ruthless the blues found there.


Despite the menagerie of pain between them, a friendship was blossoming to salvage faith in themselves. Those angels passed on the street.


Traith was noble, steadfast in his will to be true. Traith was helping to resurrect her hope.

Charlie had said that a motorcycle was one ticket to freedom. He had had a bike when he was a young man. It was more than his pride and his joy, but the one place that he could not be touched, except to be held onto by arms behind him, whatever girlfriend it was at the time.


He pulled his hands from over the 'slinger's eyes and began to crow and applause the sight of her, as jaw dropped and eyes widened.

"Gotsta get wit' the times, Madison. Can' be drivin' a horse forever. This here is like ridin' a mean wave out to sea. It'll take you further than a damn horse will. Now I know.."

She was already grabbing him into a fierce hug.

"So you like it Kit?"


Behind him stood Laurice and Check, grinning like mad.

"Of course I do. I-- I'm just..."


They all broke into laugher and walked over to hug her. She hugged the boys in turn.

"We expect a ride though, Madi", said Check with a sly smile. Madison wriggled her nose and laughed, walking over to the black beast. "She's a beauty...."


She pulled on her leather, swung a leg over and revved. The sound, the feeling that shuddered her legs and hips, shook the jail of her ribs and reverberated through her skull was like a thrilling piece of ice dropped down her collar. She winked at the Zeal's crew and took off on her first ever lap, on a bike she would come to name Faith.

Charlie and Madison shared a bench by the sea. Brown bags wrapped around ham sandwiches for lunch with a flask of dandelion wine between them. They spent most of the time in silence. Enjoying the presence of one another. The sight before them. The feeling of a small but solid meal in their stomachs. And then they turned to one another and smiled.

"I thought for a minute dere tha' maybe you weren't returnin'. I was thinkin' plenty on the time you firs' walked in dat door." He slapped his knee and chuckled. "You was like a sight for such sore eyes Madison. And I always worried over you. "


The gunslinger nodded, taking a swig from the silver, its sheen glinting the overcast midday sun. "I remember that day too, Charlie. It was before anything happened to me in this town. Sometimes it would be so special for it to be that simple."

"Can be."

She shook her head and swept off her hat, tousling curls loose as they fell from their tuck into the crown of the stetson. "No. Something changed in me after Eli died. Sometimes I thought that if I stop being busy I'll just break. And then I went and ended up breaking in a way I didn't expect to, anyhow. And now I've changed again and I -"

He placed a hand over hers, squeezed it. "We all got to mourn in this life. But then you gotsta move on, chil'. Can't be livin' in a rainy day forever. I know you don't miss him as much as you think you do. You feel guilty that you got feelin's for others. An' I say that anythin' you doing to deal with the pain ain't bad. As long as you tackle that bitch head on. As long as you git right in there and tackle it like a tiger."


She squeezed the Story Teller's hand and passed over the flask. He took it and smiled at the taste of distilled summer in his hand.


"I'm at a fork in the road. I could keep going, with the work, and all the complexities that come with it, or just go open a stable and do that work again, and only that. It's like that for my personal life. I've taken such liberties lately..."

An enigmatic smile, though it was born naturally, and she bit down on a knuckle, sighing.

"Which you wanna do Kit? What's your heart tellin?" He left the matters of her personal life and all those adventures alone. It wasn't his place to step there.

It is crazy, but even after all this I want to keep going. I'm still here, you know? So I've got this... idea that I should be experiencing as much as possible. The hedonist has kicked in. It's just a stage, I know. But for all the shame I feel, I also feel so.. free."


He grinned. "That you are, Madison Rye, that you are. Still here, and free as a bird."

"What's the plan then, Miss Rye?"

"I'm going to find the Specialist. I'm going to track her liaisions."

Laughter crackled down the phone line.

"What, Heil?"

It continued.

"Heil?"

"I'm sorry..." He was enjoying himself.

"Oh come on.."

"The Specialist isn't the kind of woman to leave any trace of herself. Not that you would be used to finding, Madison. If you want to know how deep her channels run, you're going to have to get in deep with her clientele. You're going to have to do things you don't want to do."

Silence.

"Madi?"

"I'm here." She sighed.

"I can back you up."

"No, you can't. That is why we are ringing one another from phone booths all the time. Remember?"

"I'll help you."

"Okay. I won't argue. Next question. How deep do I have to go?"

He broke into laughter again, covering the mouthpiece with a gloved hand. Sound muffled. Madison frowned.

"For one thing, lose the horse. Too obvious. Next - start wearing lipstick, skirts--"

"Heil", she crooned warningly.

"Madison, you aren't going to get in with this crowd if you walk into the club with guns on your hips arriving on a goddamn mare. You're going to have to sharpen things up. How about I take you shopping?"

Exasperation filtered down the phone line and then she smiled and huffed and agreed.

"Ok. Good. We'll get you some suits. Maybe a couple leather outfits."

"You sure this is for work, Heil?"

That had him chuckling again.

"I'll see you tomorrow. You know where."

She hung up.

Rain trickled down the front window to Zeal's. Coffee churned. Glasses tinkled. Check and Laurice gathered up the piles of chairs and began to spread them out beneath tables and along the sides for wallflowers to fill.

"Madison's returning to work today", Laurice said, in a grunt, as he began to wipe down a few chairs still sticky with liquor from the night before. "Hey man didn't you wipe this all down before you left last night?!"

Check shook his head. "I went out on a date with Sofia last night, I was in a rush."

"Man", Laurice grimaced and moved along to another table.

"Think she's gonna be alright?"

"Who?", Check questioned, wetting a rag. "Sofia or Madi?"

"Madi you sh*t, who else. I don't care about your girlfriend. Just another notc--"

"No. No she a'int. I'm stickin' with this one."

"Mmhmm."


And the door flew open and there stood Madison. Sodden. She grinned at the boys as she swept off her hat, crystals of rain running from the brim to peeter. "Hey guys."


They looked across in unison to the silhouette before them. They smiled, a bit uneasily. The rain continued to beat against the glass. It was the only sound made.


Madison sauntered in, rested her hat on the counter and moved around it to ready up a hot chocolate and a nip of whiskey. The boys were back to the business of setting up shop. No words between them. From under her brows she eyed them.

"Big cat come in and steal your tongues overnight, huh?"

She chuckled and picked up the mug taking a long, satisfying sip.

"Sorry Madi."

The boys stopped what they were doing and looked her way.

"Nothing has to change because of what happened. Nothing has changed bbetween us. Business as usual. Okay?"


Wood groaned against wood as tables were lined up. Put into position. Madison watched as they silently walked around. It was eerie.

"Guys"

They turned in unison to look at her.

"What's going on?"

Check and Laurice gave one another a look and turned to face her. Their eyes said everything.

"Where is he? What happened?"


"Riverview Clinic. Heart attack."


Check leant against the mop and looked down, forlornly.

"Why didn't you shut up shop?!"

"He insisted we keep business runn-"

Madison moved for the closed sign and tacked it to the door.

"Get out of here."

"But Madi, he in-"

"Leave what you are doing and take the day off. Get."

The men obediantly put aside their chores without another voiced protest and left. She waited until their foot steps had died.

Then spun and launched the empty mug into the door that led to the basement.

Enair crawled across Madison's thigh and towards her knee as she sat jean-clad legs wide, slumped down in her chair, positioned near the window. The sun was setting and made a golden brigade across the floorboards. She was absorbed in the sight, the silence, that she didn't hear Heil come walking in with dinner.

"I say we leave em wantin', Madi" he said in a tired husk of a voice, sitting down on the bed. Springs gave to a few squeaks, wood frame trembled. He glanced down as if he had broken it. "Always does that. Probably a hundred years old", reassured the 'slinger with a somber smile. He handed her a burger, wary of the tarantula that was now creeping down her shin.

"How in heck do you stand keepin' that thing?"

"Pardon?" She was already tucking into the thick wad of beef.

"That", and he pointed with a french fry at the black monster that was now tickling its way over Madison's boot. She just shrugged. "Enair is good company."

Heil snorted and bit in.

"So why is this the best ploy, anyway Heil?" Gaze tore from her food and the besotting sight of the sky to the man's face, covered in the gloom of the small room. He sat hunched and she couldn't help but feel bad for him, as if she had already damned him. The creases of his shirt, his hair all windblown and messy, his eyes that were feasted on his own meal. He was so vulnerable. He trusted her so. Yet there she was, acknowledging how fragile that trust could make him. That she could turn on him at any time. She owed him nothing. She had debts to Ali, to Rekah, to Karras for helping her as they had, for saving her from ruin, but not Heil. She hated that such a dark thought draped over her mind, but she knew what she was capable of; it wasn't the double crossing so much as that skein of violence she brought home, that he willingly waded into and made himself at home in.

"I think if they get curious, which", he waved a fry pointedly, before popping it into his mouth, "they will, we've got a better a chance of sucking them in. Getting what we need. Like I said, you're going to have to suspend some ideas you've got about how this sort of work should be done."


She listened to his breathing deepen as he hungrily clawed at his chips. He probably had been at the job all day and hadn't eaten at all. She listened to Enair as she near-silently drifted her way diagonally towards the dresser.


Most of all, she listened to those dark thoughts. They were telling her that perhaps she was a tarantula. She would eat the fools and allies like flies and small birds. Anyone who had to be dealt with, she would devour. They would pay for their deceptions.


But would she really?

Is this is what she let Lofton make of her? Wanted Woman become Bandit Queen? Is this what she wanted to be? Ruthless?


Heil observed Madison, with a look of wonder, as if he saw the way those ideas ran wildfire through her eyes. Suddenly she looked to him, gave him an upward nod of agreement. He almost lurched up at the sight of her face, so plaintive, so fierce.


Up she got to go capture the arachnid into her hands, to let her lumber across her knuckles as she delicately placed her into her glass box.

"Whatever you say, Heil", said just a glance to him over shoulder. But he did not believe it.

"Are you sure about working with me, Madison?"

Boots scraped as she dragged her feet back over and fell into the chair, taking up much the same pose she had before.

"Heil, I'm an extremely dangerous woman remember", she said, traced in amusement. "Question is if you are really sure you want to work with me."

It was all too easy to fall right back into the swing of things. Heel to the shovel as she pushed into the soil and began to turn it. Grass hitched and thrown aside as she laboured in the cooling weather. Charlie's little observation about her being more resilient than she gave herself credit for beginning to sink in. Yes, she did miss Eli, but that place in her heart was beginning to cover.

It grew late as she threw down the shovel and lumbered back over towards the shack, slipping off her gloves, when she caught sight of herself in the speckled mirror reflection, the glass itself rusted and covered in long ago stains. Her skin glistened wetly, her lashes darker still with moisture. She looked less tired than she had felt after Lofton. Looked energised. Strong. Limber. She felt a smile come on as she dusted off her elbows and knees, her shoulders and slipped out of her work blouse to pull on a pale blue t shirt.


Another night in the Red City and there Trent had been. Another of those in her employ. A whiskey and some conversation. He was surprised to hear of her almost-lynching, and she had been the same to learn of trouble the work had gotten him into. He didn't elaborate, but someone from the Orpheum knew of her men. Maybe knew of Skid, of Sal. And maybe even Clyde. She had a plan to go visit Golgotha and see if she could find that boy. She hadn't seen him since their run in and it worried her.


Turning away from the shack, she grabbed her backpack and headed on back to Ghost Town, for a long scolding bath.

A late night walk with Sheila had done little to sway the unease that still crept up on her when the day was done and she retired to her room, alone. There was the nagging worry that she would get home and find a letter from Lofton, even though they thought they had her, with Sione being hung in her place, it didn't matter. Day to day just passed on the escalating fear that something else was going to happen.

Charlie had been discharged which had relieved her greatly, but something was not quite right. She was yet to meet with the Mystery Man over Sam's abduction and that competed with her concern over Charlie. And last, but not least, was the rarity of Karras these last weeks. All she had was the sensation prickled in her stomach as she remembered his closeness, the two of them in the dark of her room. But since that night near a fortnight ago he had not been seen. She worried over the Angels of Truth and their plots. Whether Wanda was okay.

There was a lot balancing on plate.


So when she came swinging the door open of her hotel room and saw a sinuous line posed on the single chair, covered in a wreathe of cigarette smoke, she gasped and dropped her key. Startled by the sheer shock. The exotic figure not someone expected. Not ever. But there she was, rising, stepping through the vapours and heading towards her. Like the years that had passed had never been done. Jovy was the same. Same as she had always been.

"Hello darlin' "


Skinny arms slid around her in a hug, but Madison remained still. Her eyes closing. The arms pressed tight. Jovy chuckled, and it sounded like shattering glass.


"What are you doing here?!", Madison exhaled on a tight breath. She did not return the embrace, nor a sentiment.

"Aren't yer happy ta see me?" The nearness of Medley's voice was like a razorblade caressing at the throat. Too much threat. Too close for any comfort to be had. Then her cousin stepped away, looked at the rain dancer in mock-disbelief, knowing well how unwelcome her presence was. She stared at Madison, running a finger along her jaw. "Lovely as ever, Acony."


Madison opened her eyes and sincerely was lacking in the faith that this was really happening.