The sun hovered in the sky. It beat down on the back of his head with heavy rays of heat. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his free hand. The other was clutched around a sack of apples. A black bandana hung from around his neck. Dust kicked up in tiny clouds behind him, hanging in the air. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. His hand fell back to his gun as he walked through town. Most didn?t pay him any mind and he was alright with that, his mind was set on a particular woman. He looked up at the sky.

The clouds were large and puffy. Bright white and made of all kinds of shapes. His head tilted back, his eyes flashing in the sun as he watched the shapes creep on by. Some people said the stars were still there when the sun was out. Others said they disappeared. Glenn figured they were just hiding, waiting until the dark came so they could guide people to the light. He smiled at a memory of York, of rocking in a chair with his baby sister sitting in his lap. He wasn?t so strange then, wasn?t so ashamed. They?d sit out at night under the light of a candle, fingers pointed toward the silver and white dots that littered the sky. They?d always count different numbers; he used to say hers was right. Simpler times.

?Hope you?re doin? alright.?

Glenn continued on in silence, kept walking until he saw a fence surrounding a house. He grinned to himself, a little twist at the corner of his mouth betraying his thoughts. He?d brought apples, he?d brought a gun. He wondered if she?d be true to her word. Knocking didn?t seem right, so he didn?t. Instead he upended the bag of apples and set four out on the fence, resting precariously. His fingers curled around a fifth and he turned, hurling it overhanded at the wall of the building in front of him. It smacked with a solid thud. He grinned again and faced the door, lifting the bandana up to slowly fold up into a thick strip of cloth.

Come out, come out wherever you are.

?Madison Rye!? his voice rose to boom through the air, carrying with it an unnatural weight. ?I do believe we had an appointment, you and I!?

The bandana was lifted and tied around his eyes. He counted to ten, twisted on his heel and brought one of his Dragoon?s to bear. One. Two. Three and four. Four shots, four loud, echoing booms and flashes of fire. Four bullets shot through the air. Four apples exploded, sending skin and guts and juice splattering across her fence and the grass beneath. They tumbled backwards, tumbled away, and he listened. The barrel of his gun was pointed at the ground. He wondered if she had one pointed at the back of his head.

He clucked his tongue to show her he?d heard. His gun rose when he first felt her untying the knot that covered his eyes. When he was greeted not with a gun, but with a robed woman and a lazy smile; he didn?t mind the tangles in her hair, the informality. He knew success when it came to greet him. Slowly, that gun lowered and the hammer was eased forward. It returned to his oily holster, waiting for a time when someone challenged his honor again. Glenn might have been a crook, a murderer and an all-around indecent human being, but he was always honest about it. That had to count for something, right? He flashed a smile to mirror hers, all small curls and lazy like a cat lounging in the sun. Something smelled wonderful, but he couldn?t decide just what.

?Well, whole reason I came robbin? in the first place was to get a horse. Figured that?d be improper though, ridin? up on a steed bought with your money. I brought apples instead.?

Apple pie. He chuckled quietly as she turned to leave him there in the yard. Glenn dropped to a knee and one by one, plucked up the apples that were left in the dirt and grass and put them back in the sack. He hefted it over his shoulder as he stood and used his sleeve to wipe another bead of sweat from his brow. It was hot. Just like home. He paused to study the house, the property he?d invited himself to with such a cavalier attitude. Glenn owned the world, see. Only problem was, not many knew it. Madison was starting to catch on, though, and that was a point in her favor. It reminded him of a house in York. It reminded him of a place full of little boys and girls, shouting and playing. Of a grizzled man with a bushy beard and a star pinned to his chest, a kind faced woman baking pies in the kitchen. Lemonade in the summer and cocoa in the winter. It reminded him of nights spent staring at the stars and days studying the clouds. He took a step forward and went plummeting back in time.

Snowball and mud fights. His first horse ride, the old black nag that could barely move faster than a trot. A pretty little girl from a house down the way who he stole his first kiss from. Something about that house brought back the memories of a younger, innocent time; like he was looking through her to the person he used to be. It didn?t surprise him as much as it should have. Glenn and Madison were one in the same, the way he saw it. They were intertwined in the yarn of fate. Might even go as far as to say that they were two stars, part of the same constellation.

He drew in a breath of fresh air and released a sigh, following her through the open door.

?My favorite.?

The knife sank deep into the cutting board when she asked that question. His hands stilled and he stared down at the, imagining the blood of men and women he?d killed staining his fingertips. It?d be a messy pie. His head canted to the side and slowly, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, speculating. It wasn?t often emotion was displayed there, plain as day, but everyone slipped sometime. What was it, though? Anger? Hurt? Did he trust her with the information or was he just too ashamed to talk about it? Home was a sensitive subject. He shrugged and cut down into the board again and released the knife. His hands pressed against the counter as he leaned forward onto his arms.

?Town called York,? he answered after what felt like an eternity. ?A handful of buildings, a saloon and dirt everywhere. In the middle of nowhere, ignored by all of existence and inconsequential in the scheme of things.?

?Home, you could say, if I ever worked up the courage to go back.?

?What about you??

"Twin Cedars. But I spent my teenage years in a canton good miles away. My Papa had been fixing for a new property for a while, and like most folks, we followed the work." His candour spooked her. But she pushed past her own feelings o the matter to give him a hearing. She didn't trust him all the way, but he hadn't shot her, he hadn't touched her, so she figured there was some trusting she had to do if she was ever going to understand that electrical storm that had transpired. "But... home for me isn't either place. They were only stops along the way." The side of her hand brushes his while she reaches towards a bottle of Jack, sitting there on the servery shelf.

"Town called Lofton was where my family ended up. Not much of a place." Pouring the liquor into the bowl.

?None of them are.? His finger twitched and he turned to look over at her. Home was a concept of much internal debate in Glenn?s mind. He liked to remember that place from his childhood, the smiling faces, the laughter. He liked to imagine that if he went back and confessed to all the things he?d done that his Pa? would still embrace him, his Mother would still make him apple pies and talk about the angels in the sky. But Pa? was a lawman and Mother was a good Christian woman and neither one of them had tolerance for criminals and lowlifes like Glenn Douglas.

They?d just drive him away.

?My Mother used to make apple pie for me and my brothers, ?specially if we had any left over when winter started settlin? in. We?d bundle up, sit out on the porch with some hot pie and watch the stars.?

?You ever watch the stars, Madison??


That got him a feline-like, inquisitive stare, sharing contempt for having to even ask the question. Her laughter was clearwater and match-strikes. "Only my whole life, Glenn Douglas." Done with the damn bowl, she put away the bottle, the mason jar and took that apple pie and placed it into the oven. A flint was swiped from a pocket and rubbed against the back of her beat heel, and soon that oven was piping. Madison closed the door and turned to rest the small of her back against the stove. She just looked at him. "I got most of my answers up there. Stopped looking though. Stopped. asking."


?I ain?t got an answer yet.? His head tilted and he studied her. He studied her like you did a work of art, an abstract painting designed to draw your mind away from the harsh reality of the world and instead make you delve a little deeper into its soul instead. He studied her like a little boy did the first time he saw a pretty girl on the playground, the way a murderer sized up his prey. He studied her for a long while in silence and in that time, he didn?t blink for fear that she might go changing on him. That?s what the stars did, he assumed. They changed whenever he blinked.

?Got somethin? for you.?

The words hung in the air with a heavy weight. Was that a threat? It was hard to tell. His voice was somber, low and full of thought, totally unlike the wonder in his gaze. He turned away from her toward his belt and its guns. He picked it up and started feeling along the inside, his back to her.

Her chin lifts with anticipation. Hands curled either side of her hips, along that stove top edge. "Come on with it then..." That edge was walking up her spine again. Smoothing down her arms. But those eyes were bright and alive and ready. It was a new day. Anything could happen. Anything could happen.


When he turned he held in one hand, a tightly bound wad of cash. The other was holding one of the Dragoons. He set the money on the counter between them and the gun came to rest beside it, resplendent in all its simple, deadly glory. His bright eyes rose to meet hers and his fingers slowly trailed away from the gun and the money and he spoke barely above a whisper. If the breeze outside was just a little more demanding it would have drowned out his voice.

?That should make us even.?


A little sound came out of those pressed lips as he showed her today's draw of the deck. Her left hand partially covered her mouth as she turned her cheek, bit down on a nail. The stars had never shown him to her. And not in her wildest dreams would have said he would do what he just did. Wet-eyes met his. Her hand fell to tap against her leg. Her words had no skin. They were bone "I hate you."

And whip-quick, Madison was against the counter, leaning, arms out and flexing, the gun and his money pushed away from her. Her fingers were shaking.


He clucked his tongue in amusement and hooked a thumb into a pocket on his jeans, shrugging a shoulder at her in the process.

?You and all of creation, sweetheart.?

He didn?t reach for the gun or the money, the money that was rightfully hers and the weapon that had equal market value to what he?d spent already. It was a fair trade for forgiveness, he thought. Sort of like paying off your own bounty at the station, not that he ever had enough money to afford it.

?For most it?s ?cause I killed someone they knew or stole somethin? from them, can?t seem to put my finger on you just yet, seeing?s how I just gave it all back.?

She'd found her hands were balling to fists, and her mouth was hurting awfully bad clenched as it was. "You walked all the way out to f*cking Cadentia, to pay me off?" Those words hit her twice - once as she spoke them, and once straight after. She stumbled back, head shaking "Get out of my house. Get out now."

Reaching around behind her to the wall, where a pearl handle glinted in the light "You are a son of a bitch."

Her stare and her gun levelled with him. "Get out now, Glenn."

Bitter words. Sweet apple pie.

He blew out a sigh, looking terribly unimpressed by her gun. He?d seen plenty in his day.

?You?re reactin? all the wrong way, Madison Rye,? he spoke her name nice and slow, putting emphasis on it. ?It ain?t payin? you off, it?s givin? you what?s yours. That gun? It and the one in its holster still are all I got left of a life I?ll never be able to go back to, that was a present on my sixteenth birthday,? he chuckled. ?Feels longer.?

?You can shoot me now if it?ll make you feel better, but I don?t think it will, and I don?t think that?s why you?re angry.?

?You?re angry ?cause you don?t know what to think about me. What?s this crook doin?, comin? to pay off his debts, to apologize for one of the many wrongs he?s committed in his life. I figure that?s more in line with what you?re really thinkin?.?

He shrugged again. ?But if I?m wrong, shoot me. At least then you won?t be lyin? about what you are anymore.?


That arm remained extended until the hand holding the gun couldn't hold the gun anymore and the gun, the excuse it was, fell out of her hand, rocketed across the floor and slid under the counter. Her arm remained out. She just stood there in the hall with the light of the afternoon slanting all over her, throwing her shadow askew, wind in her hair, looking at him with the most furious forgiveness in the world. If she could forgive him, she could maybe forgive herself, because that was what it came back to? Anger misplaced and a crooked sense of pride. Shoulder tired, her arm fell simply to her side. For no real reason at all other than the satisfaction of a bang, she slammed the front door killing her shadow dead.

?I don?t pay people off, Madison Rye. If someone?s got information that might get me in trouble, I?ll scare them into silence or shoot them into an early grave, I don?t mind one way or the other. I?m too prideful to just ask someone to keep their trap shut.?

?Besides, you ain?t got nothin? on me worth a dime of what?s on that counter. I broke into your bar but you got no proof other than your word. And somethin? tells me that don?t mean as much as you wish it did.?

He turned to glance at the door she slammed, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Shoulders heaving, she stalked towards the oven and tore it open. She ripped out the tray, and with an unmitigated aggression nabbed a cloth to take the pie out with and turned, kicking the oven shut with her boot. To the counter that stalk went, all but throwing the pie across the wood. It was nearly done, the puff just starting to rise. She moved around him to fetch the biggest knife she had, and then stabbed it straight into the middle of the pie and began cutting cruel slices, far from neat, far from how his Mama had likely cut them. Another slam as she stuck the knife into the counter itself and turned to rip open a small door and pull out two plates. Rashly, she served him his slice, using her fingers. Red with rhubarb, sticky with sugar, scandalous with whiskey.

"Apple pie. All ready." Madison held out the plate to him, chest giving and rising faster than it ought to.

The corner of his mouth twitched. His eyes flashed. He reached up with a hand and took the plate, brought the apple pie close to his chest. It met the counter next and he took a solid stride forward, he walked right up to her and then kept walking. His hand rose again and this time it was her shoulder and he pushed. He pushed until she was pressed against a wall. He pushed until the only thing between them was a handful of linen and a pair of jeans and he almost snarled in her face with his indignation.

?You?re gonna try my patience real quick,? he warned. ?And then I?m not gonna be so nice a fella.?

?Tryin? to come by and make good with you. What?s so wrong with that??

Impossibly, he leaned forward, nose-to-nose. He could taste her breath.

?Somethin? else you were expectin? from me, Madison? Somethin? you were hopin? to get besides a handful of cash and a gun??

He could feel her chest heaving. He could feel the beating of her heart. He could feel the warmth radiating from her lips and he licked his own with a greedy look to his eyes.

?Spit it out.?


That shaking in her fingers earlier was a contagious thing. It'd spread all up and down her body so it was not so unlike the last time he'd flipped her world all the wrong way round. The bastard. She hated him powerfully, like she was just threaded with rage and nothing else. Hating him because he was right; more right than he had the right to be. Impetuously, her pie-spoiled hand struck out and shoved at his face, like she'd lost all her grace, and maybe, maybe she had. Her skin was sticky and sweet against the rough, whiskered skin it'd come upon. "I hate you so much. So much." Could he taste that? Could he see the way her words did not match what was in her eyes. How they had gone wide and soft, because maybe he had got her. Maybe he'd shouldered in a little further, past that next barricade she'd thought she'd built so formidably. The fight against tears was a poor one. A sob wound up out of her. Shaking there, against the wall, while Glenn he did what he did best, standing c*cky and sure as the sun. She groaned like she wanted to say something, but all she could do was cry. All she could do was cry and shake.

His eye twitched and his hand rose to curl around her wrist and shove it back against the wall to pin her harshly into place. He didn?t mind the crying, it didn?t phase him one bit. He?d shot a weeping woman before.

?Is that shame, Madison Rye??

His words filled her mouth with a breath and he closed the distance to steal the subject of his desires, it had haunted his dreams. Wet from tears or dry as the desert, he didn?t care. He pushed hard and he stole with all the force and fury of a train heist the harsh taste of her lips, a rough passion that lived only a moment and then was gone.

When he stepped back she was left to her own devices. He stared at her, not seeing her.

He was seeing stars.

For shame, Glenn Douglas! He was nearly free of his jeans! Hands still, her eyes searching the danger of seemingly clear eyes (for she knew better) to see whatever had prompted that strange blue admission, and the question that came behind it. She hadn?t been prepared for either, and looked abashed. ?My Mama used to call me her little rain dancer. Maybe you and her know something I don?t." Grabbing onto his hips, to support one last excruciating tease, Madison sat forward and lowered one leg at a time back to the old floorboards, and slid right down the outlaw?s front. Blues coveted blues. The subtle smirk, take that, cowboy.

?Tonight happens to be my night off at the bar.? As she left him with some chagrin, to walk towards the long, slender shuttered cabinet that held a few shelves of shoes. A pair of black socks tugged free of their bundle, she slips them on followed by a pair of lace up, short heeled boots. From another, she pulls out a folded picnic blanket. ?Ready when you are...? Dusk. The sun exchanging nods with the moon, and soon, all the little diamonds were free to instruct Glenn again, to unravel his yarn of fate.

A grin. Slow, twisting and knowing. He flashed her one and started to buckle his belt back up as she slid down in front of him. He pressed forward until she moved away and then only empty space was left before him. It was alright. She?d let him further in than intended, he knew. It would only get easier from here on in. He reached out to grab a gun, removing it from its holster. And then he turned toward the door. Glenn never left without a gun in hand.

?Right this way then.?

He started for the door.

Watching him, her lips twisted as his did, and she laughed out loud. Couldn?t be helped. Her eyes vivid, skin still aflame. As he takes up his gun, it warrants another lift of a brow. Her voice quiet. ?I?ll be a moment.? The blanket placed beside the threshold.

First, she hid the wad of cash in the bottom kitchen drawer. The gun beneath the counter was collected and walked back to its dock on her wall. From a lounge table, she picked up her clip and sunk it into the dented spot on her waistband - dented from years of carrying anyone?s funeral. Madison moved for the door then, where the lines of his silhouette darkened around the edges with the declining daylight, but not without stalling at the counter. Stalling at the counter to take up that colt dragoon gifted her - acquainting that unfamiliar weight and time-smoothed shape with her hand. Then, she slid it into the groove of the clip. The gesture was quick and natural and fluttered her heart. Chords thrummed in the soul. A violent thrill.

Closing the door at their backs, she took up the blanket, stepped into the yard. Hand sliding back to rest upon the gun. A perfect match.

He paused and let her walk past him, a brow arching as he noticed the hand on the gun. His gun. It made the corner of his mouth twitch, but otherwise he acted as if nothing had changed. Then he stepped after her and reached out to take the blanket as they went into the yard. The sun cast their shadows on the ground in long, dark lines and was blurred away when he unfolded the blanket and let it flap through the air. He turned and dropped to a knee to spread it across the ground, then twisted about and took a seat, leaning back on his hands after placing the other Dragoon to his left.

His head tilted back. He looked up at her and patted the spot beside him.

?Won?t be long now.?


"Was supposed to rain again. I don't see a cloud in sight."

Her head tilts back all the same, looking up at the wild blue yonder. Pinpricks began to show through. The moon low, huge and yellow like a great eye. Or, were you hungry, perhaps a scoop of vanilla ice cream. She took it all in, as she had so often all alone. Around them, sparse fields and more dirt road. Beyond that, the wastes, the true desert, the big empty.

Wind rushes through her hair, throws it helter skelter, and shakes up the soul. Her arms raise hands out, letting it tear through her body, enabling her to fly while keeping both feet on the ground .She drops down beside him and pulls her knees close. "Did you make wishes on them?? nodding up to the stars. Madison found him in her sights again and looked at him inquisitively. This curious man who wasn't one thing or another. Multifaceted. There was no pinning him down. There was no desire to do so. She was a creature of paradoxes herself. At once gentle and wild. Their shared propensity for pissing one another off seemed to be one of the biggest aspects that united them on the same front. They didn?t shy from getting into each other?s hair. After a long regard of the outlaw, she smiled and turned away. Watched as the diamonds came out to play their part.



Her question was left unanswered. He sat in silence, staring up at the sky as one-by-one, the stars revealed themselves to the world. He didn?t look away, eyes wide as a child full of wonder. They had that affect on him, the stars. They captivated him in a way the greatest artists of all time never could. At last he looked away, tore his gaze from the sky and settled it on Madison, bright eyed and more aware than he?d been in a long time.

?Stars aren?t for wishin?,? he explained. ?Mother used to say they were angels sent to watch over us.?

He looked back up again. ?Said they?d guide us to our fates. Said they?d help make us who we are. She used to tell me that once I found my star, I?d find myself and I?d know who I was and what I was meant for.?

?Your Ma sounds like a wise woman.?

His words turned her eyes for the sky again. ?My father used to tell me there was a giant prairie up there. Every time one of our cattle died, or a horse, they?d go up there, turn into stars. I believed him far longer than I should have. The thought kept me company, you know? Kept me warm. I was fifteen when I stopped believing what he said. Reminds me how I stopped even looking up there not so long ago. I?d stopped feeling comforted.?

A sigh was breathed out as she stretched her legs and reached around to take the lengths of her hair and tame them over the front of one shoulder, keeping it out of her eyes, eyes pinned above. ?Makes me sad, looking up there.? Sorrow touched her face.

?Did you find an angel?? Still staring above. Trying hard to see. ?I don?t think I know what to look for.?

?She was just a cattleman?s daughter who married a lawman,? he replied dismissively. Family was a complicated subject for this particular outlaw.

?Makes me hope, though, when I look at the stars. Hope that maybe I ain?t all bad, that there?s somethin? in this world I was meant to do besides kill and steal. Maybe I?ll find that out before I die, but I got a habit of makin? folks want to put a bullet in me. I attract trouble, I was once told.?

Her question made him frown. It darkened his face, tugged at his mouth. It showed the battle in his mind behind his eyes, the struggle with his soul. That soul wanted to break free, to soar, but the mind was corrupted and weakened and prone to bad habits and evil deeds. He wasn?t sure which to follow, the mind kept winning.

?It?s what I come here for, Madison Rye.?

?When I was robbin? you that one night, I almost forgot what I come for. I go to bed later and I can?t get you out of my head. I can?t figure out why.?

?Then I got to thinkin?...what if she?s my angel??

?Funny how life works out.?

There were hundreds and hundreds of those phantom horses over their heads proceeded by angels. Sometimes they winked, sometimes they died, and sometimes they shot across the blue. She felt a little funny staring too hard ? after a while the sky started racing, and the stars were beginning to spin and it all got too fast and she couldn?t keep up. It made her feel like she was falling, falling through the ground. That and the old sad feeling pushed her eyes off heavenly heights in these recent years put them on her work, on her house. She just couldn?t keep up. It was why it felt so good to put her arms out like she had and catch the wind, but know her feet were still solid on the earth and she was not going to sink through it, because the wind would catch her, the wind would save her.

He said things that rang true, tolling in her head long after he said them. She listened intently, trying to see a pattern or a shape or a sign up there, wondering how it was she?d lost some of her wonder. Why was it that she had really gotten so sad about the world? There was the grey cloud on his face when she looked back, though the sky was clear as his eyes, only speckled with those diamonds, and nothing else to obscure them. ?You yourself said we cannot leave it all behind. That we are made for the life.? A pause, her eyes fell to the ends of her hair, as she ran nails through them. ?Angels don?t kill, Glenn. And I?ve done my fair share of killing. Even if my reasons were honest to goodness, they don?t make me a good woman. My hands are so cold, my heart is bruised and I don?t look at life with much hope. What kinda angel does that make me? ?

Blues linger on his face. Wishing the cloud to leave it, because when he smiled she felt the weight go, she felt, despite herself, lighter than she?d felt in years. She felt the wind at her back, and she knew she wouldn?t fall.

?Crazy as it sounds.... I?m happy you broke in.? She nearly laughed, but didn?t. Was she speaking of the bar or of her heart? Let him be the judge. If he knew her so well, he?d know what she meant.

Her hand squeezed his shoulder from where she sat.

It was a sad smile he offered her first. If she wasn?t his angel, he doubted he would ever find it. It didn?t matter. Glenn had gone all this time without one, what was the rest of his life? He clucked his tongue and lifted a hand to let it run through his hair, like he was clearing his mind and wiping the guilt, the shame and the uncertainty away. Glenn Douglas was an outlaw, for whatever that was worth, and he had long ago accepted that fact. It was just a matter of reaffirming the truth.

She might not be his angel, but Madison Rye would change him and he knew it. For better or worse.

?Ain?t never had as much fun stealin? before.?

And God knows Glenn had stolen quite a bit in his day.

That got him a wry little look. ?So that doesn?t mean you make good with all the ladies you rob??

Humour haunted her eyes as she lay back down, placed her hands over her chest and felt the wind ripple over the grasses to them. With it, the smell of burning wood, old hot dust, and from further out, wild sage. Her chest lifted with another sigh. ?I hope you do find your angel. It?s taken you all the way here, and no doubt, it?ll take you on again to many elsewheres.? There was nothing prodding in the statement, her head rolling to the side, so she could look at him sitting there under his beloved stars and sky, sullen - it wrought painfully her heart, how handsome he was then and there. It took her breath away.

?I don?t believe a thing I did lead me all the way to my elsewhere?s for nothing. I?ve seen proof. And I think you should keep believing what you do, keep searching; the stars know I?ve tried. And maybe I will again. I can?t see it being right that you don?t get what you want. Not when you take everything else.?Jesting.

That got him grinning again, with white teeth flashing and the corner of his mouth where that scar started twitching up just a little higher than the other. He tilted his head at her and he flashed a wink, like they were sharing a big secret and no one else in the world knew it. ?I don?t think Mother knew what she was talking about, not entirely. She was half right. These stars...these stars,? he looked at the sky and peered at them, ?they guide us, but they ain?t angels I think. They?re somethin? else, somethin? I?ll never understand.?

?I?m okay with that. I follow where they tell me to go. Maybe they don?t guide me at all, maybe it?s my mind,? he touched his temple with the tip of a finger. ?Maybe it?s my mind and it?s telling me in a way that I can understand, a way that won?t make me second guess myself. I don?t know, I?m always second guessing myself.?

?But I do get what I want, Madison Rye. You?re living proof of that.?

Laughter vibrated through her as a hand slapped his thigh. ?You don?t know half of it. You?ve only got the toe of those there boots in the door.?

A wide smile shone for him.

?How about we go get ourselves some food. And by food I don?t mean pie.? Best she could, she tried to get the grin out of him, leaving no room for him to second guess her.

They were shadows amongst other shadows. Night sounds called and cooed around them. Whistled and chirped. Howled and keened. Sounds to put a shudder in your spine. Or, were you so inclined, go run in the dark until all you can hear is your heart.

Right now, all she could hear was her heart, after running out of a dark place by way of a few words and someone willing to listen. She couldn?t hear the bells. Not at all. ?That?s all it takes, Madison. Once you start lettin? me in that?s it. I got you now, like it or not.?

It tugged wider, that grin, and he waggled his brows at her like he was some clever bastard making some real witty joke.

?But I like pie. ?Specially what I had a taste of in there, sure there ain?t a chance I can?t get some more??

Slowly, he stood and took his gun back up in one hand, the other reaching down for her in all its roughness, offering to help her back up again, to bring her up to level with him.

Easy as one, two, three, her hand was in his, she was pulled from the ground, and standing right before him. She could only just make out his features individually in the moonlight. The shape of his mouth wasn?t hard to lose, the grin as brilliant as his eyes, which despite all that country dark, she could see as clear as she could by day. ?It was a pretty good pie, I have to admit. But...?

Playful, she sunk back, let go his hand, finger by finger. ?Good pie is hard to find. Might have to do some chasing.?

That heavy mood was shaken off in every footfall as Madison Rye disappeared into the house, shutting the door behind her. Her back to it and pushing, holding it in place.

?Who is it??

Head tipped back to the wood, she grinned.

With a quiet laugh he watched her go, turning to follow. Tempted to run, he instead kept his gait even as he came to the door just as it closed. A hand flattened against it and he leaned forward. ?Name?s Wyatt,? he lied, smelling her in the air. ?I?m with the Watch.?

His hand smoothed down the wood, curled around the knob and twisted. He pushed. Just a little.

?Go on and let me in, ma?am. Seems you?ve had a break in, I need to take a look around and see if you?re safe and alone in there.?

?Let me in.?

Madison grabbed the handle, turning her side into the door, her forehead. If the door wasn?t there they?d be breathing each other?s breaths. Two sets of steely, confident blue. She gave the handle a jiggle to the left. Glenn turned right.

?Only thing in here is me and apple and rhubarb pie. We?re safer if you stay on outside.?

Silence. The door rattled on its hinges. A slow creak. Wood fell away. Afforded him a woman painted in shadow. This time, she had both the smile and the gun. They weren?t true Rhy?Dinites. They were Westbred ilk; the irony was stunning. So were his goddamn eyes. This time, she didn?t hesitate to let him in, but clutched the side of his shirt and gently tugged him towards her. ?I never did like safe.?

?Smile. You?re famous.?

Staring into nothing, she had decided that she wasn?t going to freak out. That if she did that, she was shooting them both in the foot. She kept thinking about what he had said, about outrunning the past and how futile it was to do so. Instinctually, she trusted Glenn. That, not without deliberation, had been decided. Beginning when he placed his oldest gun on the counter with the money, confirmed when, after their lovemaking, he?d rested his forehead against hers with a look that pierced her soul. She knew. It was over. She was his. And that if she doubted him, ever, it had to be with an exceptional cause. The paper on the counter with the knife through its top was one of those causes.

?Coffee??

She stepped away from the crook in the wall to place the clay down beside the Gazette. Her shadow fell across it. Her eyes moved between those in the portrait of him and those looking right back at her. Not him. Even so, even with a cause like this, she felt she owed him the benefit. The situation was a challenge, but had he not merited some faith?

?I?m not even going to ask what you think I am. I?m not going to ask you a thing. You?ll tell me, and you?ll be honest, and we?ll leave it there.? Her hand grabbed the kettle, poured it into the second mug. Earthy scent cured the air.

Summoning a breath, she leaned into the arms of the hands that curled along the flattop. Her brow lifted. The look on the face brooking no argument, but all the same held all the jagged threat of what that broken whiskey bottle had a few nights prior.


?Yeah I?ll have some,? he wasn?t really a coffee person but something about the day made him want to try something a little different. Coffee was a good start.

For a moment he wasn?t sure what she was talking about, thought she might have gone crazy while he slept. He narrowed his eyes on her, then turned to the paper and wrenched the knife out of the counter. He placed the blade aside and plucked the Gazette up for a quick read. His eyes widened when he saw the picture of him and he almost snorted with amusement.

?Picture?s old as dirt,? he said before turning to read the attached article.

His grin slowly faded away and was replaced with a scowl. He dropped the paper and he turned to look at her.

?I haven?t killed anyone since comin? to town. Was hoping to avoid drawing too much attention to myself.?

?Looks like he missed the memo,? he flicked a finger at his picture.

?When did this come in??

Blues stayed on blues long after his final word, breaking only as she rolled a shoulder. ?Overnight I guess. A little strange, I don?t get mail other than the occasional letter from Mama, the rest is bills and rates. But, we do get the odd pamphlet. I?ve never had the Gazette before, that?s a first.? Her brow furrowed, her gaze sweeping towards the window that looked out onto the quaint porch. ?What?s the date of issue??

Madison moved around the counter and to his side, settling her hip against the front of his to share the view. Her eyes scanned the page, reading further than she had, with that one word, Lofton, dragging her eye back up the page again and again. ?I?ve never seen Happy in my life. Only ever at that Bar.? Her regard trailed to his profile. ?If he ever was Law, he wasn?t while I was there. He could have only been Deputy sometime in the past four or five years, and it wouldn?t have been a very long stint.?

There was a rock that tumbled down into her guts. ?Something smells like horsesh*t?

Her eyes immediately went towards the wall opposing the kitchen and hugging the lounge. All her guns were on the wall. Both of theirs were on the low-rise table. ?I think we should do a look over the outside.? Concern and weariness in her face, a hand placing itself on the tail of his spine. ?I?m going to shower first. Then I think, after a look over, we should get to town.?

?The date? It?s from three days ago,? he shook his head and looked back, staring at the ceiling.

Lofton. That was a place he never wanted to hear about again, yet there it was popping up in the paper. He scratched at his jaw and nodded down at the paper. He didn?t remember the man from Lofton when he was there a few years back, but then again, Glenn hadn?t exactly been knocking on the law?s door at the time.

?I?d never seen him before that night at the Piper and I ain?t seen him since.?

?But someone sure as shit thinks I have, or wants you to think that. How else the paper get my name and photo??

?You go on and shower, I need to clean my guns.?

The curtains moved in the wind, catching her eye. Had the deliverer come inside via the window and crept around while they were asleep? Had they been watching them? The only sound outside was the tin sign that announced the name of her property, REDEMPTION; hand painted and off-kilter. Every creak grated, somehow implying a dissonance in their lives. She gave Glenn a curt nod and headed into the bathroom.

In the mirror, she unrobed and sighed. She was supposed to be smiling, reliving their ecstasy, instead, in the glass, all she saw was blood. The blood that would be. Blood on her arms, her hands, dried on her cheek. She ignored the smudges on the glass - one still showing the streak of his hand print, one where her back had slid down, arched in splendour. She turned, with a frown and got into the shower. A few minutes later, towel to her hair, Madison stepped back out and realized she had decided on something else.

She wasn?t going to run away, to hide, to fear, not this time. She had had enough of waiting for the wolves. This time, it would be different. ?Glenn, save some oil, I?m going to need to polish mine too.?

Throwing the towel on the rail, Madison turned to head for the bedroom. For every quiet, determined step there was a clarion roar in her ears, the ringing that wouldn?t cease until these deeds were done. Like a soldier, she dressed ? with purpose ? a pale blue blouse, dark jeans, and boots. The last time the wind turned bad the feeling had been the same. That sensation something was wrong, was off, the one that at times made her sick it was so powerful, without a name or a rhyme, the one that seemed to get under her skin ? only, with this turn, she was ready to fight. To use the pain. Let it scream, she thought, let it ache. Coming to the end of the hall, tying her hair up into a ponytail, Madison looked across to Glenn. Conviction flaring in her eyes.


When she came out again he was wearing his belt of oiled leather. It was lined with spare bullets, each one shining malevolently in the pale light of the sun. One holster stood empty, he wouldn?t take that gun back up again until she gave it to him, but the other held the second of the Dragoons his father had given him when he was just a young man. His hand rested on the weapon. He was leaning against the bar, sipping at some coffee and he was staring at his face in the paper again.

?Don?t even look like me anymore,? he lied. ?Looks like a boy who still thinks he?s in charge of the world.?

?Definitely a killer, though. Maybe that?s why it?s pinned on me. Easy. Lord knows I?ve shot men over petty things in the past.?


Easing herself onto the lounge, she took up the oiled cloth and reached for the Dragoon. She would wear it into city. She?d wear it to Lofton if she had to. The weight of it felt good in her hand ? it was bigger than what she had carried in recent years but it was not so dissimilar to the weight of what existed between them. Something to take getting used to, but something that fit, something that electrified. She aimed it at the wall, testing its size in her hand. Lowering the muzzle, she did so again, quicker. Silver shadows ricocheted off the wall. Madison saw blood again, an after-image floating into the aether. She mined a deep breath. Fear was omnipresent. But she suppressed its bite, let it hang on, let it work for her - it would be needed.

When she felt she was comfortable with the Dragoon, her eyes lifted to Glenn. A taut smile appeared on her face. She looked back down to the Dragoon, turned it over and slid it into her gun belt. Then, she reached for her own colt, smaller, thinner, and began shining it until it hurt the eyes.

Her hands moved sure and smooth over the steel. Like the gun, all they needed was polishing. Time without use had done nothing to how she would fire. Her arm was good, so was her will. And, she believed, the same of her Outlaw.

It was silent in that house, time stopped.

?Ready?? Madison stood, with baited breath. She only hoped she was right about him. Right about the wrong feeling. About which way this wind was blowing.

He watched her. Watched her like one watched the sun rise. It gave him an odd sense of confidence, not that he was lacking in any. It gave him the feeling of purpose and he wasn?t quite sure what that meant just yet, but it was a warm and good thing for all the darkness that clouded their otherwise fairy tale of a morning. He flicked a smirk in her direction and tipped an invisible hat as he sauntered on by to wrench the door open.

?Ready.?

Glenn stepped out into the day with a hand on his gun. He felt strange walking around with only one, but it wouldn?t make him any less of a killer. Just meant he?d have to take them out one at a time instead of two. Hell, every now and again it was good to give yourself a little crutch. Otherwise it started getting too easy.

?Where we goin???

?I want to look around the property first. Got me feeling spooked.?

As he passed she smiled again, and followed after, the end of that ponytail swinging a guillotine at her back. The day had started in Cadentia, but you couldn?t tell ? the heat, the air, dead, but that tin sign stilled creaked. It was the uncomfortable detail that aimed her stride straight for the mailbox to which it was attached. She threw open the hatch and slowly, slowly, peered inside. Empty. But it was there she noticed the sign itself ? so intent on finding something key in the hatch she?d missed the way the sign was bent askew - one side dented so much the word no longer made sense, finishing at ?P?, and a large scratch which ran straight through the middle. Her stomach turned.

Eyes to the sky. The clouds passed blindly without giving anything much.

She stormed back to the front of the house and began examining every single facet her eyes landed upon. Eyeing up the dirt for tracks. The wind would have stolen anything left when it picked up after midnight. Her heart sunk a little. But what would she do with the tracks anyway, other than be convinced someone had been here? Why did she need that? Of course someone had been here. There was a press under her door and her sign was broken. Alarmed, angered, she let out a sharp breath. ?I want to go to town, Glenn. We have to go to the Gazette and find out who approached them with this old picture. Rhy?Din wouldn?t have dossiers or posters from a county as far as Lofton. There?s no way. Someone gave them that picture. Someone made sure that was front-page news. And someone put that under my door, as you said.?

And it sure as hell wasn?t an erstwhile, good-natured newsboy.

?I?ve got a horse you can have. ?

Pragmatic, she changed the tone, got to business, ushering him around the side of the homestead, where a neat grass path led around to a humble stable and reasonable paddock. Beyond it all was field, and further back, wild meadow and foothills. The rest beyond that was the start of the true desert. The grass was the ghost of green ? it was sun-bleached and dry. The foliage of a few small trees much the same. ?His name is King. He likes to think he is. Perfect for you, really?, she quipped dryly. Entering the closure, roped the leads and walked the horses out - Marigold coal black and calm, and King, white and frisky. ?Saddles are in the stable, to the left, if you would, please.? From an outside cupboard that backed onto the house, Madison fetched bits and two hessian packs to add some oats and meager supplies to, the basics.

Flies buzzed around their faces. She shot him another little smirk. It was only small, but it was considered. It was filled with confidence, filled with hope. She could only try.



He laughed. King. Good name, he thought. Only fitting that Glenn would be the one to ride that horse, seeing?s how they were so much alike in spirit. He flashed her a grin and said not a word. It wasn?t the time to speak, she?d given him what he needed to know and there was no sense in saying anything back. He turned, he left her alone with the horses while he fetched the stables and allowed himself a few moments of thought without distraction.

It was a plain as day set-up, of that he had no doubt. Who, though? Who would know him from all the way back then? And how the hell would they know that he?d shacked up with Madison overnight?

He hated it when people knew more than they should have. He hated being the prey.

Thankfully, him and Madison were getting ready to turn the tables.

He came back out with the saddles and dropped one into the dust and the grass and he walked up to King, that fiery white horse who looked at him as if he?d bite his face off. He bared his teeth at the horse like an animal exerting his dominance and then went to saddle him.

?He can be the king of all the horses if he likes. Just so long as he remembers who?s the king of men.?

Her face follows with her eyes, watching him cross the yard from the stifling heat of the stable. Wings beat overhead, a heron winging down to her roof. Her eyes tore away to the mare, as she began threading the reigns tighter, saddling up. It wasn?t too much longer before she was mounted ? back straight as iron, and that flare reignited in her eyes. A wink fired to Glenn from on high. Marigold lashing her tail. The heron gave a cry. ?What do you think?? she asked abruptly, spurring the beast into movement, coaxing her into a circle around the outlaw. He?d minded his words, he?d given her the time she had needed to wade through her thoughts, and she respected him all the more for it. But now that hers had some order, she was desperate to know where he was at with his own.

?Any idea who has a bone to pick? Any former towns still holding a grudge??

Winds had started picking up on the road, whirring settled dust into devils, spitting pellets of dirt that clouded the way


When she circled around him he was just mounting up, rising to take a perch on that saddle as comfortably as if he?d been born there. He tilted his head at her and flicked the reins with a twitch of his wrist and clucked his tongue. Instinctively, King started forward. He didn?t answer right away. Glenn almost never did immediately. Instead, he guided the horse to a steady trot and he watched the dust kicked up by the wind, watched the sun creep up and up into the sky and he thought about a man he hadn?t seen in many years. A man named Grady. He wasn?t much older than Glenn when they first met, but they were worlds apart when you stood them side-by-side.

Guess that?s why Glenn killed him.

?Lofton,? he said.

?For that time I shot the Hexxman?s son.?

At that, Madison?s eyes widened. She stared at Glenn, in question. Her head craned into the wind, like she hadn?t heard him quite right. A low whistle, she picked the pace up, Marigold turned the opposite direction, walked back around. ?Why didn?t you tell me before, about Lofton? When I was telling you about my past??

Could he see the way her chest gave and rose, faster than it ought. The way her shoulders sagged. She cast him a look. Not him.

?Please tell me ? please tell me that Law isn?t involved in this. Please don?t, Glenn.? Maybe she could taste it in the air, the way he tasted her. The wind didn?t lie. It was still turning. The bad feeling going lukewarm. She was beginning to feel sick already. ?Glenn.? It was shrill with worry. Walking the mare right up to him. ?Tell me you don?t have bad blood with them. Tell me so.?

He turned to look at her and offered a one shouldered shrug. ?No law was involved back when I crossed their paths. I was just passin? through Lofton, stockin? up on supplies and takin? a few nights rest when one of them came up and offered me a job. Paid real well, so I took it against my better judgment.?

?Then I met Grady and we didn?t get along from the outset, then everything went wrong and I shot him. Folks said he was Reno?s boy and I shot them.?

?Then I turned and I left.?

?Grady??

The name sounded familiar, but like rumour - not a name meant for her ears, or in the very least, a name she did not want to know. It conspired with regret in her mind. Reno, Grady?s Father, was responsible for the bounty those summers ago; he never had liked Elijah, and Madison, by association. Treason blacklisting both of their names. Why her parents wanted her to return to a town that scorned her name she would never understand. There were some deeds you could not make right.

?You shot a Hexx??

Her brow lifted at that with its disbelief. Michael had done the same when he?d hit Lofton. Shooting one of their wardens point blank in self defence and though it was one of their own, they?d liked his skill. It was a sterling example of their logic. Yet for not taking on the Code, they had hunted Elijah for five years. And, later, called for Madison?s blood.

?Another thing we?ve got in common? she laughed, out loud, incredulously. She had to laugh. It was killing her to hold it all in. Her chest heaved under blouse, strained yet with the knowledge. Maybe there was a chance in this mess to salvage something, to make something of the calamity, together. There was still mystery to unfold, but two heads were better than one, two hands tainted red, as much an enemy of Lofton?s as the Rye-Donaldson's had become, had been for half a decade. It emboldened her. She saw the purpose in what she'd done, what she had endured. Her horrors and pains had equipped her, whether she knew it or not, in much the same way as they had Glenn - only difference was, that Glenn was aware of the way things played around him. He'd turned his myth, his struggle, into character, into resolve. He'd shown her that there was no use in denying what had happened. At some point, history would turn-tail and lift its ugly head, bare its teeth and sink into her. She was tired of waiting for that day. For the silence to hang. For the body to drop. Best to face it. Best to start working necks clear of the rope.

Flicking reign, she spurned the coal black mare on and out of the yard. King and the outlaw followed. Shadows lengthening with the sun.