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CHAPTER 11

Diego Benitez - who wore riding boots, pale-brown britches, a checkered shirt and a black vest that sported several hand-sewn silvery swirls similar to those on his regular Caballero outfit - closed his gold pocket watch with an audible click. "It's a quarter to midnight," he said from his spot at the swinging doors.

Inside Moira's saloon, a handful of kerosene lamps did their best to illuminate the many heavily-armed men and women who sat at the tables killing time in various ways before they were to go into action. Some wrote letters to their next of kin, some played solitaire and some just sat there looking at nothing in particular. Nobody spoke.

Wynne sat at the Blackjack table looking at a few cards that she had spread out in the game's familiar setup. She looked up from her time-killing activity to let out a grunt at Diego's comment. Typical of her rotten luck, she would only win one in ten hands even when she cheated by peeking at the pile. An empty glass of beer had been put on a coaster so it wouldn't stain the green felt.

Diego had brought ten of the sixteen men in his cavalry unit. The final six had remained at Don Alejandro de la Vega's luxurious hacienda further south to defend it from cattle rustlers who typically came at night - especially nights with a full moon so they didn't have to bring lanterns or torches that could be seen for miles and miles.

After his discharge from the Third Battalion of the Mexican Cavalry, Diego had relocated north and had found employment as the senior horse trainer and wrangler at Don Alejandro's first cattle ranch. It had soon become evident that rustlers posed a constant threat to the financial well-being of the ranch.

After the third theft of livestock in a month, he was given the task of assembling a strike force that could annihilate the rustlers. Instead of going through the hassle of recruiting local 'talent' - that were often just as shady as the rustlers they were meant to stop - he contacted the best of the best of his old brothers-in-arms to offer them the job. Most everyone had leaped at the chance of once more hooking up with their old commander, and the strike force had been a rousing success almost from day one as they had managed to put an end to all but the most intrepid of the rustlers.

Mandy sat by herself at another table cleaning the double-barreled shotgun she planned to use. Once she put the rag away, she checked and re-checked the locking mechanism and the hammers to be certain everything worked. She let out a sigh and tried to lock eyes with Wynne. It seemed their special connection had yet to be established as the Blackjack-playing Texas Ranger never looked up. Not wanting to intrude on Wynne's private moment but needing to do something to take her mind off what was to come, Mandy picked up the rag once more and gave the shotgun yet another wipedown.

Rapid bootsteps from the covered sidewalk were soon joined by frantic knocking on the woodwork; before long, the lanky teenager Richard Lee appeared at the swinging doors. The young spy wore an inconspicuous set of coarse britches that were far too short down at the ankles, a wraparound tunic tied together by a brown belt, and finally a battered, Oxford-style straw hat that hadn't been a fashion item since the heady days of the mid-1840s.

Diego Benitez glanced up and down Main Street before he lowered the hammer of the Colt that he had drawn when he had heard the footfalls. "Anyone follow you here?" he said in a gruff voice that made Richard Lee gulp.

"N- no, Sir… I d- don't think so…"

"All right. Tell the Ranger what you saw," Diego continued as he pulled Richard into Moira's saloon by a strong tug on the young man's arm.

"Y- yessir…"

After hurrying inside, Richard stared wide-eyed at the vast amount of hardware on display. It seemed that everyone waiting to hear what he had to say carried two or more firearms plus a wide selection of lethal blades. He whipped off his straw hat to appear respectful toward the adults.

Wynne rose from the Blackjack table and walked over to the young man. "So, wotcha done saw up there?  Ritchie?"  When she didn't get a response, she put her hand on the young man's shoulder causing him to jump up on tip-toes.

"Uhhhhhh!  Oh… uh… Captain Donohue… Colonel Benitez-"

"Yuh, we be he', sure ain't no lie," Wynne said with a grin. "Wouldya quit dillyin'-dallyin' around an' jus' tell us whut y'all done saw?"

"Uhh, yessir!" Richard said, clutching his straw hat to his chest. "Yessir… everyone is drunk and mean as a skunk… well, they always is, but 'specially tonight. I heard some talk about someone holdin' up a liquor transport or some such. I'm guessin' it wus Mista Lafferty's weekly shipment. Mista Lafferty tole me yesterday that-"

"Nevah mind that now, son," Wynne said sharply. "Get back on track, yuh?"

"Yessir… well, there be a real bad mood up there. Kinda like a powdah keg itchin' ta go off. They already had one knifin' situation between two o' them outlaws… an'- an' some othah fella done sliced hisself when he wus intendin' to throw his blade at the piano player fer hittin' nuttin' but bum notes."

Wynne let out a grunt; she briefly locked eyes with Mandy and Diego. "Okeh. Ritchie, wouldya say them desperadahs be able ta defend themselves when we waltz through that there front door?"

"Maybe one or two… most are dead-drunk offa their asses. Uhhhhhhh… offa their feet, Ma'am," Richard Lee said and tipped his battered straw hat at Mandy.

Though Wynne and Mandy shared a quick grin, the former soon assumed a serious expression once more. "Son, pay atten-shun now… did y'all see Artie Rains an' J.D. Burdette there?  We need-a know fer dang sure they be there befo' we move in."

Richard broke out in a vigorous nod. "Yessir!  Yessir, Mista Rains and Mista Burdette are both there, Sir. Mista Rains is sittin' at his reg'lar table. He be a li'l tipsy, but Mista Burdette sure wussen, Sir. He wussen drinkin' at any time when I wus there."

Wynne let out a grunt; Diego added a: "Makes sense. A man in his position needs to keep his wits about him at all times. Captain Donohue, it's two minutes to the witching hour. I think we should deploy my men while we have the initiative."

"Yuh. I agree, Colonel. Awright. Send 'em out ta them spots y'all done drew up befo'. Once they be in place…" - Wynne pushed her cowboy hat back from her brow - "Lawrdie, we gonn' be walkin' up dat street packin' an' rarin' ta go. Yessirree."

Clicking his heels, Diego saluted the Texas Ranger before he strode over to his men to begin the deployment - they would slip into the darkness in twos and threes and re-appear on all sides of Derrike's Saloon. When the orders to enter were given, some would cover all exits while others would join the main team going through the front door.

Wynne turned back to the gulping, flushed Richard Lee. "Much obliged, son. Y'all been most helpful… aw… I durn wish I coudda tipped ya, but I reckon I lost mah coin purse out in that there desuhrt the othah day or som'tin…"

A cheerful 'Heads up, Richard!' made the lanky teenager look at Mandy; a moment later, he caught the silver dollar she lobbed at him. "Oh!  Thank ya very much, Mizz Mandy!  May I go now, please?"

"Yuh. Y'all bettah head home ta ya Momma now. Ain't no tellin' whut might happen he'," Wynne said and grinned at the fact Richard Lee had already hurried out of the saloon before she could finish issuing the words of wisdom.

Following the brief moment of lightheartedness, Mandy's face returned to the somber mask it had been earlier. She rubbed her chin. Then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Captain Donohue," she said as she put a hand on Wynne's elbow, "may I have a word in private?  It won't take long."

"Haw, o' course, Mizz Mandy. Uh… where?"

"Out back," Mandy continued as she led the taller woman over to the rear door and into the stamp-sized backyard. A great deal of the limited space behind the saloon was taken by empty barrels and crates, but there was just about enough room for the two gals. Although the full moon illuminated a section of the backyard, most of it was engulfed in deep, dark shadows created by the wooden building itself.

A warm hand that slid across Wynne's side proved it wasn't to be a boring, old conversation about the weather. Her breath hitched as Mandy moved so close there wasn't room for a piece of paper between them. They stood like that for a moment or two before the inevitable happened: Wynne leaned down and Mandy stretched up so their lips could find each other somewhere in the middle.

Their first encounter was a brief, exploratory brush in the same vein as dipping a toe in the bathwater. Though the first contact held great promise, they needed to get final confirmation to ensure it would not lead to disappointment - the lovers' lane of sweet, little nibbles that Mandy placed along Wynne's jawline sealed the deal, especially when they moved toward the sensitive points on her throat and neck.

When their first real kiss came, it was a tender, unhurried and delightful affair that transcended time, space and any parallel dimension known to Woman. They were finally forced to move apart so they could breathe once more, but remained close to stay within reach of each other's emotions.

"Lawwwwr-die…" Wynne said in a croaked whisper as she tried to peek through the darkness; she wanted to etch every last detail of the encounter into her mind in case the kiss would be the only one they ever shared. "Haw, that sure wus theee best conversa-shun I done had with anybodda fer… haw… since the las'time me an' y'all done had one."

Mandy smiled at the words though the dark shadows obscured the gesture. "I'm glad you think so, Ranger… Wynne. I've been wanting to do that since you told me that we're… that you and your Mandy are married." Chuckling, she drew back a little but kept her hand on Wynne's side. "I sure hope you don't feel you've been unfaithful to her?"

"Naw… or mebbe… naw. I gotta admit I be perdy dang-blasted con-few-sed 'bout the whole thing, tho'," Wynne said with a grin. "I ain't sure 'bout nuttin' no mo'… ta tell y'all the truth, I ain't even sure which o' them he' lives is da one I belong in. This he' or mah old one. This is so way dif'rent it jus' be ca-razy, an' I still miss mah dawggies. Yuh. Like really miss 'em."

"I understand," Mandy said as she clawed Wynne's side. "I had a stray mutt when I was a little girl. I loved that critter way more than it deserved… it was a cheeky, li'l bugger!  It would steal my food straight off-"

The back door to the saloon suddenly flew open. Wynne reacted instinctively by pushing Mandy behind her, drawing the Colt .45 and cocking the hammer in one, fluid motion. A roared "I got y'all covah'd, son!  Stretch 'em!" burst out of her mouth.

When the only response to the cry was a strangled squeak, she continued: "Dontcha be makin' no mistakes now, ya hear?  If y'all do, y'all gonn' make mah triggah fingah itch an' I be likely ta blow yer dang-blasted head clean off, yuh?  Come out inta this he' light so I can see whodahell done had the gall ta interrupt me an'… Lawwwwwwr-die!  Rodolfoh?!  Fer cryin' out loud, son!  Y'all oughttah know bettah than that!"

Another squeak escaped Rodolfo Gonzalez as he stepped into one of the moonbeams. His arms were stretched out far above him almost like he reached for the myriad of stars above. His eyes darted between the fierce Texas Ranger and the no less fierce Mandy Jalinski for several seconds before it seemed to dawn on him what he had interrupted - then he let out a torrent of apologies in high-speed Spanish.

"Naw- naw… naw, hold it, son… hold 'em hosses, pardnah!" Wynne said and moved up her hands in the age-old gesture known as Stop!. "I ain't gettin' a wohhhhh-rd o' wotcha sayin'… y'all need-a speak-a that there 'Merican, yuh?  An' mebbe a li'l slowah, too… aw, an' lowah them arms. Y'all be lookin' like a dang scarecrow standin' like that."

Rodolfo's voice continued to tremble as he spoke: "I am very sorry for disturbing you, Ranger. But something just happened in the saloon that you need to know about… something important," he said while he pointed at the building behind him.

"Aw-shoot!  It bettah not be Sheriff Kennedy actin' all tuff on us," Wynne mumbled. She reached up to scratch her brow. "Well, okeh, then. Lead the way, son. Les'see whaddahell this he' important thing be. Yuh?  Mizz Mandy?"

"Right behind you, Ranger," Mandy said with a grin. True to her word, she reached out to put a hand on the small of Wynne's back - so small, in fact, that the area in question was generally referred to by another name.

---

Wynne needed to let out yet another utterance of her patented "Lawwwwwwwr-die!" when she clapped eyes on Madam Ruby Diamond who stood in the middle of Moira's saloon with a prim and proper overcoat wrapped around herself. "Whaddinda-wohhhhh-rld 'r y'all doin' he' at this time o' the night, Ma'am?"

Up close, it was obvious that a great deal of Madam Ruby's allure had come from a jar of grease makeup - and a cheap one at that. The layers she had smeared onto her face to create an illusion of alabaster-like paleness, blood-red lips, elegant eyebrows and a beauty spot on the cheek all did a poor job of hiding her crows' feet and other age-related blemishes despite only being in her late thirties.

"Oh, thank the heavens you're here, Ranger," Ruby said in a trembling voice that held strong traces of her original Massachusetts accent. "Two of my girls are being held hostage over at Derrike's Saloon!  I don't know how well they are because I daren't go in there!"

"Sombitch!  Why, them dirty, rotten, low-down, no-good sons-a-skunks!"

"Please, Sir, you must help my girls…" Ruby said and grabbed hold of Wynne's arm, "I begged Sheriff Kennedy for help, but he's taken to the bottle. I'm sure the bandits will hurt my girls if nothing is done!"

Wynne broke out in a grim nod; Colonel Benitez and all his men had already left the saloon to assume their covert positions at the enemy stronghold - in short, they had no time to debate the present situation. "Yes, Ma'am. Dontcha worry none. We gonn' help them damsels o' yers. Mizz Mandy?"

The meaty Clunk! of the shotgun being closed proved that Mandy was ready, willing and able to head into the lion's den.

"Mighty fine," Wynne said and turned to the man who had interrupted their small romantic rendezvous out back. "Senor Rodolfoh, I know y'all can shoot or else y'all woudden ha' been that there shotguh-n ridah."

"Yessir, but I do not have a revolver with me. I am very good with my blade," Rodolfo said and patted his hip that saw a reinforced sheath containing a hunting knife. The young man wore regular clothes not unlike those he had worn when he had been the companion rider on the wagon distributing foodstuffs.

"Good. Say… how come y'all wus up at that there pleasure house instead-a with Diegoh's men, son?" Wynne said and winked at the man who would be a good friend much later on.

"I am just a wagon driver for Don Alejandro. I am not part of Colonel Benitez' special unit. And… I was there on private business…" - Rodolfo shuffled around a little as he spoke; his cheeks soon gained a reddish tint.

Wynne let out a chuckle at the news that wasn't entirely unexpected. "Izzat a fact?  Yuh, well… okeh, it be haaah time ta deal with these he' varmints. Mizz Ruby, y'all wanna come with us, or wait he'?"

"I'll go with you, Ranger," Ruby said and wrung her hands. "I cannot stand not knowing what's happened to my girls!"

Letting out a "Mmmm," Wynne turned to Mandy to gauge her intent. What she saw made it clear to all involved they were ready. "Awright. Les'go. This been goin' on fer too long alreddy… time ta put an end ta it," she said and strode over to the swinging doors.

-*-*-*-

Wynne and Mandy stepped out onto the torch-lit Main Street and lined up side by side. Rodolfo and Madam Ruby waited for the heavily armed main protagonists to set off in a slow, deliberate walk before they exited Moira's saloon; they remained a good distance back to stay clear of any stray bullets.

The silver spurs on Wynne's boots jingled and jangled as she and Mandy walked along the sandy, rutty street. She held her left arm aloft to signal Diego Benitez - who waited in a deep shadow some fifty yards further up the street - that the show was about to get on the road.

Off-key music and drunken singing could still be heard from the establishment that would soon become a slough pit of bloody violence. Here and there, locals who had nothing to do with the outlaws hurried along the street to get to safety before the lead would fly. A dog barked somewhere out of sight.

"Have ya been in many such confrontations, Ranger?" Mandy asked in a voice that wasn't entirely free of holding a nervous tremble.

"Yuh. Sorta. I done seen plenty on teevee, anyhows."

They moved ahead another fifteen feet before Mandy let out a puzzled grunt. "Teevee?  What in Tarnation is that?"

"Aw, that be jus' like them penny novels tellin' them wild tales from da Ol' West, yuh?  'Cept that teevee got movin' pic-chures an' all. Anyhows, y'all gonn' find out in 'bout… haw… forty-fifty years or so."

"I'll be long since dead in fifty years' time, Ranger. I'm past thirty now. Nobody out here on the frontier get to experience their late eighties. Nobody."

The somber statement made Wynne chew on her cheeks and glance down at the shotgun-wielding firebrand walking next to her. "Yuh, I s'pose… haw, I sure be glad that gonn' be one thing that-"

A loud, drunken cry of 'Ranger!  I'm callin' ya out!' suddenly upset all their carefully laid plans.

Spinning around, Wynne let out a barked "Snakes Alive!" as she reached for her Colt. She already had her hand on the hilt when she clapped eyes on the badly wobbling figure of Roger Kennedy who took a fumbling step off the covered sidewalk on the other side of the street. It didn't take a professor in advanced algebra to figure out the Sheriff was plastered and meaner than a hyena who had just been told his favorite watering hole had dried up.

Behind the staggering Kennedy, Barry Simms hurried out of the door to the sheriff's office - in his haste, he hadn't even had time to light the cigarette stuck between his lips. "Sheriff!  Sheriff, will ya please come ta yer senses! This is crazy!  Y'all can't outdraw a Texas Rangah in yer present-"

"You shut up!  I don't wanna hear another word outta you!" Roger Kennedy barked before he took a wild swing at Barry's face. Though the level of his drunkenness meant his hand-eye coordination wasn't the best, he still managed to sock his deputy directly on the cheekbone.

Barry - who was anything but a prizefighter regardless of the era - fell to the ground with the grace of a sack of potatoes that someone had knocked over. His hat went one way; the cigarette went the other. He landed somewhere in the middle with a grunt and a groan.

"Lawwwwwr-die!  I don't bah-frickin'-lieve it!" Wynne cried and stormed over to the drunken sheriff. "Ya lousy sombitch!  That ain't no way ta treat yer loyal de-per-ty!  Barry ain't nevah done nuttin' evil against nobodda!  That's it, I'mma-gonn' open up a can o' majah whoop-ass on ya fer suckah-punchin' 'im like that, ya drunken piece o' trash!"

Roger Kennedy shoved Wynne away. Swaying like a bulrush in a breeze, it was obvious he tried to focus on which of the handful of tall, bearded Texas Rangers appearing before him that he needed to talk to. "I'm the law here!  Yessir, I'm the law, and I'm orderin' you an' yer vigilantes to cease yer illegal activities. Ya hear, Ranger?  There ain't gonna be no fightin' here tonight!"

Mandy stomped over to Wynne and the Sheriff; much like Wynne, a grim mask had swept over her face. "The hell there ain't!  If nothin' else, then to rescue the two prostitutes. Dontcha give a damn what might happen to them?"

"Hell, no!  Who gives a hairy turd about a couple of whores?  There are plenty more where they came from!"

Wynne let out a grunt. "Why, that certainly be a charmin' thing ta say, Rogah. Lemme rephrase that. Who done gives a shit 'bout a nobodda Sheriff in a nowhere town?  There be plenty more where y'all came from!"

"I beg your p-"

"Now get yer sorry ass back inside that office!  Now!  Don't make me say it twice… haw. On second thoughts… yuh, do make me say it twice. Yuh. Woudden that be fun?  Yuh, I reckon it would. So… whut's it gonn' be, foo'?"

Roger Kennedy's response to the thinly veiled threat of an imminent smack-down was the wrong one altogether. Instead of choosing the sensible option of staggering back to the sheriff's office, he took a wild swing at the middle one of the three Texas Rangers he saw in his blurry vision - unfortunately, the swing only punched a huge hole in the air. As his arm continued its trajectory, the pendulum effect took over.

Howling, he lost his balance and ended up on his hands and knees. The hard impact made his hat fall off; a second later, his rubbery arms gave out and sent him on a face-first collision course with the rutty, sandy street. He moaned and groaned for a short while before he fell asleep.

Wynne slammed her hands onto her hips and looked toward the dark sky for guidance. Since satellites and commercial air traffic had yet to be invented, only the twinkling stars greeted her - but they weren't about to come to her assistance. "Yuh, that sure wus fun. Mercy Sakes, I been buzzed a-buncha times in mah life, but ain't nevah that bad. Haw. This he' deal wus jus' embarrassin' on so many levels."

"Let's get the law off the street. Barry first," Mandy said and went over to help the Deputy get back on his feet. After giving him a quick once-over, she patted his shoulder. "There you go. None the worse for wear. You'll get one helluva shiner come tomorrow."

"Prolly… owch," Barry said as he probed the sore skin with his fingertips. At the same time, his tongue moved across his gums. "Didden lose no teeth I hadden alreddy lost, tho'."

"That sure be good an' all, haw?" Wynne said and broke out in a grin. "Mebbe y'all could get that nice lady Beatrice ta come ovah an' pampah y'all a li'l?  It done seemed ta me there wus a connec-shun between y'all… yuh?  Yuh?"

A blush covered Barry's cheeks as he nodded and let out a juvenile snicker. Sobering, he rubbed his chin where he had been struck. "Lissen, Rangah… Mizz Mandy… I be handin' in mah resignation at first light. There ain't nuttin' fer me here now. I can handle a six-gun. Lemme come with ya."

Mandy looked at Wynne who shook her head.

"No. It won't work. I'm sorry," Mandy said and gave Barry's shoulders another pat. "The Sheriff will be out of commission for a long while. Goldsboro needs someone in charge. That's you, Barry."

"In charge?  Me?  I be wearin' ridin' boots so I don't hafta tie them bootlaces!" As Barry spoke, his voice climbed in pitch until it was nearly at the level known as screeching.

Wynne let out a chuckle at the sound. "Ain't nuttin' ta worry 'bout, ol' buddy. Once we done got Sheriff Kennedy inta one o' them cells so he can sleep it off, y'all can sit at the big desk smokin' yer cigs, sippin' warm coah-ffee an' readin' one o' yer cheap novels. Yuh?"

"Well… I could do that…"

"Haw, ya sure could. Okeh," Wynne said and reached down to grab hold of the sleeping Roger Kennedy. "C'mon ovah an' give us a hand he'. We wasted too much o' this he' dang-blasted evenin' alreddy."

-*-*-*-

The time for cracking jokes had been and gone when Wynne, Mandy, Rodolfo, Colonel Benitez and four of his men lined up in front of Derrike Iverson's Saloon. Madam Ruby hid behind a wooden pillar at a store on the far side of the street to be out of harms' way.

As the senior law enforcement officer in town following Sheriff Kennedy's alcohol-induced meltdown, Wynne was in charge of the strike force. A bleak, nervous expression was etched onto her face; she clutched her Winchester in her left hand while the right hovered near the hilt of the Colt Peacemaker. "Mercy Sakes, Wynne Donnah-hew," she mumbled to herself, "wus this such a good ideah?  Them folks in there ain't holdin' no kiddie party an' there sure ain't gonn' be no hawt cocoa an' whipped cream pie… once we done walk through that do'ah, it might be game ovah…"

"Are you talking to me, Wynne?" Mandy said out of the corner of her mouth.

"Naw. I ain't even tawkin' ta mahself… I jus' be tawkin'…"

"Okay…"

The space in front of the saloon they were about to raid had filled up since Wynne had been there last - no less than four dead-drunk outlaws littered the covered sidewalk. Although several hours had gone by, the bandit she had initially noticed continued to lie in the same position clutching a bottle of liquor. Chances were that he was in fact dead rather than merely dead-drunk.

Wynne needed to gulp down a nervous lump the size of Texas before she stepped forward to signal they were about to jump into the fray. Bizarre, atonal renditions of classics and recent hits continued to be played inside the saloon, and the men continued to sing along in an off-key fashion that would never win any awards; still, Wynne's jingling spurs seemed to drown out all other sounds as she made her way across the sandy street and onto the wooden sidewalk.

One of the passed-out bandits was shoved aside with her boot as she made it to the door. Looking behind her, she nodded at Mandy, Rodolfo and the Colonel who all nodded back.

She had already reached for the door handle when she suddenly paused. Fatigue swept over her like a tidal wave; the fraught night she had spent in the livery stable came back to haunt her at the worst moment. Sensations of the glorious kiss she and Mandy had shared piggybacked on the leaden weight that seemed to spread to her limbs. She drew a deep, trembling breath when a touch of dizziness was added to the unfortunate mix. It was obvious that something was wrong, even if she couldn't put a finger on what it might be.

A bright-white flash suddenly engulfed her. She cried out as she tried to fight it, but it was too late. From one moment to the next, Wynne's presence within the body and soul was pushed aside and Captain Winston Donohue took over.

"What… the… hell…?" Mandy croaked as Wynne's elegant female form literally disappeared before her eyes. In its stead, the bearded, coarse Winston - whom she had seen in the mirror in Moira's saloon - arrived out of nowhere with his gnarled hands, leathery skin and far cruder stance.

Mandy shook her head and rubbed her eyes several times. Seeking an answer to the horrific development, she stared at her fellow vigilantes in the hope that one of them could explain what had just happened - then it dawned on her that she was the only one who had ever seen Wynne's true face; the others had only interacted with Winston. "God almighty," she said as an icy shower ran down her spine.

Over by the saloon, the tall, proud, bearded Texas Ranger kicked open the wooden door with such force that the upper hinge was ripped off. Another violent kick took care of the rest before he barged inside with little regard to his own safety.

"Let's go!" Diego roared to his men who all swarmed into the notorious dive.

Mandy's legs refused to move ahead; her fire and enthusiasm for the operation she had helped plan had been thoroughly extinguished by Wynne's unexpected - and horrible - transformation.

It wasn't until several shots rang out inside the saloon that she snapped out of her stupor and rushed ahead. She was at the smashed door in an instant and hurried inside to see what had happened.

Derrike Iverson's Saloon was larger than Moira's but far less refined. Everything was held in shades of dark-brown and nicotine-amber. Three of the original seven kerosene lamps had been blown to pieces over the course of the rambunctious night; the remaining four continued to illuminate the sorry state of affairs, but the light they produced never reached the corners that were literally left in the dark. The furniture had always been mismatched and in poor condition, but at present, it was difficult to find a table or chair that hadn't been thrown around and thus reduced to its basic components.

Hundreds upon hundreds of glass fragments - that had come from the bottles of liquor stolen in the hold-up of Grant Lafferty's shipment - littered the floor. The resulting concoction of smells was so overpowering Mandy needed to pinch her nostrils with her free hand.

Not that any of the other odors inside the saloon were any better: stale beer, unwashed bodies, vomit, blood and the open urinals out back all did their worst to make everyone's stomach churn.

The saloon was silent as a tomb. The most visible reason for the silence was the fact the piano player had been shot in the back - the dead body continued to sit at the upright piano in a grotesque pose. Ten or more outlaws stood around with their hands high in the air. Most were so drunk they couldn't stand still for any length of time. Their swaying created a surreal spectacle that was a good match to the rest of the insanity inside Derrike's saloon.

Pale-gray smoke wafted from the barrel of Captain Winston Donohue's Peacemaker as he glared at the swaying outlaws. He had been the one to silence the piano player as well as two bandits who had been foolish enough to reach for their revolvers; both were face-down in the glass.

"Ranger!" Mandy barked as she took in the horrific scene of death and destruction. "Tell me, what the hell do you think you've achieved by killing the Goddamned piano player?  I knew him!  He wasn't one of the-"

"They need to understand there's a new boss in town," Winston said in a gravelly voice that was as far removed from Wynne's dulcet tones as was humanly possible. "And this is the most effective way."

"By killing innocent bysta-"

"This is no place for wimmenfolk. Go outside and leave it to the men. The Colonel and I will make sure these criminals are dealt with. There's a great hangin' tree out back."

Mandy clammed up as if someone had snuffed out her flame. She narrowed her eyes down into slits as she took in the sight of the sorry-looking bandits, thugs and low-level, ragged outlaws that crowded the rundown saloon. "Oh, don't worry. I want no part of your dirty business. I'll be out of your hair as soon as you tell me where Burdette and Rains are. And the two prostitutes we were meant to rescue," she said in voice that was no less intense than the Ranger's.

"Neither Rains nor Burdette were here when I came in. And who the hell cares about two whores?" Winston said before he stomped over to the bar to pour himself a shot of whisky from a bottle that had survived the mayhem by sheer miracle.

Mandy and Diego shared a despondent look before the latter spoke Spanish to one of the Mexican outlaws. The conversation rolled back and forth for several sentences before Diego let out a long sigh. "Rains and Burdette left only a few minutes ago. And they had the hostages with them."

Almost unnoticeably, he inched closer to Mandy to tug at her sleeve; he tried to convey a silent message when they locked eyes, but his effort yielded little success.

A barked "Sonovabitch!" escaped Mandy as she smacked a clenched fist against her side. "If we hadn't been held up by that drunken fool Roger Kennedy, we would have caught those bastards!  They could be anywhere by now!"

Winston eyed the angry woman with barely hidden disdain. Snorting, he reached into his rear pocket to produce the Wanted-poster for J.D. Burdette. He unfolded it and held it up so the remaining outlaws could see it. "Everybody listen up!  There's a two-thousand dollar reward for Burdette's carcass. If any of you stinkin' Mexies can tell us where he and Rains went, I'm willing to spare your necks and give you a ten percent share of the reward money. That's two-hundred dollars in cash!  If I'm not mistaken, that's ten bottles of that horse piss Iverson calls whisky."

The outlaws glanced at each other with greed written all over their faces; they all knew where Burdette and Rains had gone, and they all wanted to be the one to tell the Ranger. It turned into an instant case of survival of the fastest as their knives came out to play. Soon, blood dripped off blades as critically wounded bodies fell onto the filthy floor.

Mandy had seen enough madness for one evening. Spinning around, she stomped out of the saloon and onto Main Street. Rodolfo, Diego and the four men from the cavalry unit followed her out there a short while later.

Rodolfo was too shocked to continue the pursuit, so he hurried over to Madam Ruby instead to inform her of the bad news; her cries of despair soon echoed through the street.

Diego whipped off his cowboy hat to have room to rub his brow. "What the hell was that all about?  The Captain is acting completely different now!  He is nothing but a butcher… just as bad as the outlaws!  Killing the piano player and getting the prisoners to knife each other… simply diabolical!"

"I can't explain it, Colonel. It was… it was just… no. I guess some men don't reveal their true colors until they go to war," Mandy said through clenched teeth; the shocking truth behind Winston's transformation was far too incredible for anyone to believe, so she decided to keep it to herself. "Did the man you spoke to tell you where Burdette and Rains went?"

"Yes!  That is what I was trying to tell you before… the man did say where they went, but he was drunk and his speech was slurred. It was perhaps Osnard Creek, or Oxford Creek-"

"Could it have been Oswald Creek?" Mandy said and hurried over to the Colonel.

Diego narrowed his eyes as he plonked his hat back onto his black locks. "Mmmm… I suppose it could have, yes… yes, I am sure it was. Where is that?"

"About three miles north-west of here. It's an old mining settlement, but the creek dried up before they even got started," Mandy said and glanced back at the saloon to see what was keeping the Ranger. "From what I gather, it was there before Goldsboro was founded. I've never been out there, but I've heard the old shacks are still standing."

Diego broke out in a grim nod. "Sounds like a place those vultures would seek out. I am still on your side, Miss Mandy… and I have a plan. Am I right in thinking that the Ranger will need to go all the way up to the stables to get his horse?"

"Well, that's what Wyn- the Captain told me, yes."

"Can you ride?"

"Yes!" Mandy said and smacked a fist into her open palm. "The Ranger would first need to figure out where they went and then spend several minutes getting his horse… you're thinking of riding out there to round up Rains and Burdette, aren't you?"

"I am. The two of us and my entire unit save for the man whose horse you will borrow."

Mandy grabbed the Colonel by the shoulders and gave him a fair-sized thump. "Deal!  Prepare the horses. I'll organize a few things we might need. We're leaving in two minutes."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Diego said and jumped into a full Cavalry salute.

-*-*-*-

Chaos and confusion reigned supreme inside Wynne Donohue's mind. No news there, but the element of deep-rooted fear was a recent addition that she could have done without. She found herself in a pitch-black void, simply floating away on the wings of unseen angels. There was nothing to see anywhere; nothing to smell, to feel, to hear. In short, the endless void engulfed her fully.

Then, from somewhere in the far distance, a female voice said 'Wynne?'

"Haw…"

'Wynne?'

"I done said Haw didden I?"

'Wynne… please… please wake up…'

"I be asleep?  Yuh, that would explain one helluva lot… wait-a-minnit… I ain't sleepin'… I be tawkin' ta mahself!"

'Wynne?  Please…'

"Haw!  Fer cryin' out loud!  I be right he'… whoevah y'all be… okeh, now that I done got y'all on da horn an' all… wouldya mind tellin' me wheredahell this he' weird, weird place be?"

A strong bark and several softer yaps filtered through the endless void, but Wynne could not get a fix on their relative position. "Whazzat?  Somebodda barkin'?  An' yappin'?  Haw… Blackie?  Goldie?  Zat y'all?  Mandy?  Haw… ain't nobodda out there. Shoot. I bettah not be goin' nuts he'… if I am, I'mma-gonn' be real peeved. An' I need-a beer som'tin fierce, too, dang'it…"

From one moment to the next, a bright light exploded in Wynne's face. Crying out in surprise, she whipped up her arm to shield her eyes. Her balance was still poor so she needed to take a staggering step to the side to stop herself from ending up on the ground - as her boot made an impact with the floor, the familiar sound of crunching glass reached her ears.

"Whaddahell… good shit almighty, this he' deal sure be gettin' weirdah an' weirdah…" she croaked as she lowered her arm to get her bearings. The heavy weight of the object in her hand offered a hint she had drawn her Peacemaker at some point in the recent past - not that she could remember doing so.

Naught-point-four seconds later, she gasped and jumped up on tip-toes as she clapped eyes on the extent of the horrors surrounding her.

Derrike Iverson's saloon had turned into a bloody, brutal, gruesome slaughterhouse. Dead or dying outlaws littered the floor leaving precious few square inches that weren't covered by the dead or the blood that had gushed out of their stab wounds.

"Lawwwwwwwwwwwwr-die!  By all that's holy, whaddinda-wohhhhhh-rld been goin' on in he'?!  An'- an'- an' somebodda done shot da pianah playah… an' in da back!  I mean… that ain't right!  Whut kinda mean rat plugs somebodda in da back?!"

She holstered the heavy revolver so she had her hands free to rub her face. Just to be certain of the ins and outs of her return, she patted her cheeks and chin to find traces of the grizzled beard. A sigh of relief escaped her when her own smooth skin was all she touched.

The last outlaw who still breathed - the one who had killed all his comrades for the reward money only to be gunned down by Captain Winston after telling him where Arthur Rains and J.D. Burdette had escaped to - spat a large glob of blood onto the floorboards. "You gonna burn in hell for this, Ranger!" he croaked; more blood seeped out of his mouth as he spoke.

"Well, somebodda iz gonna… c'mon, lemme getcha a doctah or som'tin… mebbe Doc Gibbs… naw, he might not be he'…" Wynne said and crouched down to help the wounded man.

"Get away from me, pendejo!" the outlaw croaked as he shied back from the Ranger's hands.

"Haw, mah Spanish ain't good enuff fer them fancy words… wotcha done called me?  Aw, nevah mind. Wheredahell is everybodda?  Wussen we saposed ta raid this he' place?  Haw, I guess somebodda got he' first or som'tin."

The outlaw stared at Wynne in wide-eyed astonishment. A brief, coarse chuckle escaped him; it caused more blood to seep out of his mouth. "Oswald-" he said, but that was the last word that came across his lips.

"Haw… Oswald?  Whodahell is Oswald?  I ain't met all them new folks in town yet. Oswald who, son?  Son?  Mista?  Awwwwww-shoot… dead as a doorknob. Yuh. Okeh. Figgahs."

Grunting, Wynne got to her feet. She dug into a pocket to find a handkerchief that she used to wipe her hands of the blood that had been transferred from the dying outlaw. As she did so, she noticed a yellowed piece of paper lying on the floor buried in a pile of shards. After picking it up and brushing the glass off it, she discovered it was the Wanted-poster for J.D. Burdette. Another grunt escaped her as she re-folded the poster and slid it into her rear pocket.

"Oswald… Oswald somebodda?  Haw. I ain't got a dog-gone clue whodahell that there Oswald is!  If that ain't Wynne Donnah-hew in a dang-blasted nutshell, I ain't sure whut would be… aw, mebbe Mandy or ol' Moira gonn' know who that there Mista Oswald is, anyhows," she said in a mumble as she glanced at the horrors surrounding her on all sides.

"Naw, I need-a getta hell outta he' befo' I soil mah undies. Them ghosts gonn' be howlin' tanight, that sure ain't no lie."

Stepping outside, yet another grunt escaped her when she realized Main Street was completely devoid of life save for one man who waited by himself across the street. A closer inspection proved that it was one of Colonel Benitez' men rather than an outlaw late to the party, so Wynne let out a "Son!  Dontcha go nowhere 'cos I need a wohhhh-rd wit'cha!" as she strode across the street.

-*-*-*-

At the exact same time just beyond a mile north-west of Goldsboro, a small group of riders and a four-seater buggy pulled by a single horse crossed over the uneven desert terrain to get to Oswald Creek and the abandoned mining settlement there.

Mandy and Diego rode up front while the men from Diego's unit had spread out in a wide spearhead formation so they had space to react in case of trouble. Rodolfo and Madam Ruby shared the buggy at the back of the group; Rodolfo controlled the reins so Ruby could focus solely on worrying about the fate of her two employees.

The ghostly moonbeams provided enough light to ensure that Diego and his elite unit had no problems riding through the dark desert. The men were all veterans of countless nightly campaigns that had been conducted during various peasant revolts down south.

It was a different story for Mandy - although her Pa had taught her to ride at the tender age of seven, she had almost no experience of navigating the treacherous desert at night. As a result, she was as tense as a cat in a rocking-chair factory which in turn made her borrowed horse skittish and unsure on its feet.

The group continued ahead for another fifteen minutes with no visual contact at any points of the compass. The constant creaks and squeaks that were produced by the buggy's leaf-spring suspension as it rumbled across the rocky terrain with all its natural peaks and hollows made it impossible to pick up any sounds that could be man-made.

---

Yet another handful of minutes went by before Diego rose from the saddle to balance on the stirrups. The experienced cavalryman focused on a point in the far distance. A moment later, he nodded and lowered himself back onto the saddle.

"Contact. Contact," he said to the men riding on either side of him - they acknowledged their Colonel with grunts and similar noises.

Mandy narrowed her eyes to peer through the darkness; after a few moments, she was able to see a single pinpoint of light in the middle of the vast, sweeping landscape. Unlike the moon's ghostly-pale reflection, the distant sheen was warm and golden indicating it was produced by a kerosene lamp.

The elite riders readied their rifles and sidearms. Mandy checked her double-barreled shotgun for the umpteenth time to make sure it was loaded.

"Colonel. What do you suggest?" she said in a whisper although they were still at such a distance from the point of light that a stagecoach pulled by eight rampant stallions could have driven past without being heard.

"That we split into four groups," Diego said while he signaled his unit to form up next to him. "You and I will head for the front door while my men cover both flanks. The buggy must stay well out of the way until it is safe for them to approach."

"All right. I'll tell Rodolfo," Mandy said and turned her horse around.

-*-*-*-

Back in Goldsboro, Wynne hurried up Main Street grumbling, growling and groaning at herself and the fact she had never made the connection that Oswald wasn't a somebody but a somewhere: Oswald Creek.

She had even been there a couple of times in the recent past. The first and most memorable visit had been when she had worked as a delivery gal for the Chicky Kingz takeout parlor - the lengthy trip had been a bust on several levels. Not only was the Chicky Kingz' Nissan van completely unsuited to the rocky bed of the dry creek, her ears had been exposed to a barrage of four-letter words when the vegan collective who lived out there had received several boxes of fried chicken rather than the bean sprout salads they had ordered.

As she reached the livery stables, she shoved the large door aside so she would have plenty of room for the black stallion. Several rats took the opportunity to flee into the night, but she had no time for varmints of the four-legged kind.

"Haw… whaddahell wus that hoss's name?" she said as she strode through the stables to get to the final bay. "Cloud?  Falcon?  Snowy?  Pre-shuss?  Triggah?  Blackie?  Naw, deffa-nete-ly not Blackie… shoot… I ain't got a dang-blasted clue. Mebbe I oughttah take that there mew-le instead. Naw, that be too stubborn… I would nevah get there- Diabloh!  Yuh, sure wus… Diabloh. Yuh. Like them there awesome Diabloh chili-sandwiches them folks used ta make back in them good old days… haw… that I guess be them future days an' all… aw, whaddahell do I know?  An' nobodda gives a toot, neithah!"

Reaching the large horse, a shiver trickled down her spine as her number one phobia made its presence felt. The shivers only grew stronger when the horse whinnied and began to shuffle around.

"Lawrdie, will ya jus' stand still fer a dang-blasted second?  I sure ain't got no time fer that there messin' 'round now," she mumbled as she untied the feeding bag and swept the protective blanket onto the horse's back. "If I hadda be scared, why coudden it be o' som'tin else?  Mebbe skyscrapahs or cir-cuss clowns or hawt air balloons or som'tin stupid I ain't nevah gonn' encountah out he'… naw, it hadda be large animals that be a dog-gone dime a dozen. Ugh!"

The saddle came next. It took some effort - and produced a few stumbles, fumbles and pinched fingers - but she had soon tightened the belly strap so she wouldn't take a swan dive off it and thus make everything worse.

She was about to mount Diablo when it dawned on her that its muzzle was up against the bay's end wall and that it wasn't equipped with a reverse gear as such. Groaning, she took the reins and did her best to coax the stallion out of the bay without having it step on anything or anyone.

Once everything was lined up and ready to go - as witnessed by Diablo's eager whinnies - she pulled her gloves on tight and grabbed the reins once more. "Okeh. An' now fer da worst part… naw, da second-worst part. The numbah one worst part is gettin' off that dog-gone thing once I done find Mandy an' Diegoh an' them folks!  Shoot, he' goes…"

After putting her boot in the left-hand stirrup, she pulled herself up and swung her leg over the rear edge of the saddle. The actual sitting-down part grew a little awkward as she had come far too close to the saddlehorn for anyone's comfort, but it only took a tiny bit of shuffling around for her to sit just right.

"Okeh… so far so good. Lawrdie… I oughttah be crossin' mah fingahs but I sure ain't gonn' let go o' them reins or nuttin'!  Mebbe I should try crossin' mah eyes… naw, bettah not. Hi-ho, Diabloh!  Giddiyup, hoss!  Les'ride ta Oswald Creek. An' please… no messin' about while we be out there, yuh?  Keep it steady an' straight, yuh?  Please!"

-*-*-*-

Three miles away from the livery stables, Mandy and Diego moved across the barren ground on foot with as much stealth as they could. Mandy held the shotgun ready while the Colonel had drawn his revolver.

They were within sixty yards of the wooden hut where they had seen the golden light. There was nothing there that could provide natural cover, but the desert floor was so dark beyond the ghostly patches illuminated by the silvery disc in the sky that it wouldn't endanger their daring mission.

From their present spot, they were able to see that part of the roof had collapsed. The windows had all been boarded up - no doubt when the mining settlement had been abandoned - but most of the boards had given up the ghost since then and were piled up below the frames. Thus, golden light continued to shine out of the window nearest to them.

The horses that Rains, Burdette and their hostages had used to get there from Goldsboro had wandered off into the desert; the old post they had initially been tied to had cracked down the middle due to several decades' worth of exposure to the harsh conditions, and it had only taken a small tug for it to collapse fully.

Mandy cocked her head to listen as a voice wafted across the gulf between the hut and their position. The voice was male, but it was impossible to make out if it was indeed J.D. Burdette or Arthur Rains. A silhouette moved from left to right at the window. Another voice joined the first - it belonged to a woman clearly on the brink of hysteria.

Diego held his Colt ready as he hunched over and hurriedly closed the distance between himself and Mandy. "You know their voices better. Is it Burdette and Rains?" he said directly into her ear to keep the noises at a minimum.

"I can't say, dammit… I think it's Burdette, but… I'm not sure."

"We need to get closer."

"All right," Mandy whispered and moved ahead. She clutched the double-barreled shotgun although it was the wrong weapon for the operation. If the two hostages happened to be in, or even near, the line of fire, she would be unable to pull the trigger as the buckshot didn't care whose flesh they carved through once they had been sent on their merry, and literally wide-spread, way.

---

When they were within twenty yards of the hut, a loud slap could be heard plain as day. A woman started crying almost at once; it wasn't long before a second female voice let out a few choice expletives.

Mandy let out a growled "Those wretched sons of bastards," but she cut off the rest of the profanity she had lined up when the easily recognizable figure of Artie Rains appeared in the window.

The fat man, who wore a pale-blue Western suit that was wholly inappropriate for the situation, wiped his flushed face on a handkerchief as he glanced out onto the endless desert. He remained at the window for several seconds before he moved away and returned to the center of the hut.

Diego and Mandy shared a brief look. Rains' presence proved that J.D. Burdette was there as well as the self-proclaimed town boss never went anywhere without his number one gunhand.

The Colonel had already tensed up to make a dash for the door when familiar sounds of jingling spurs, thumping hooves and creaking leather reached Mandy's ears. Grabbing hold of her companion's sleeve, she pulled him down and out of sight. "There's someone behind us," she whispered into his ear.

Several Mexican curses of the juicy kind escaped Diego as he knelt in the sand and aimed the revolver high. Mandy put the shotgun to her shoulder; she cocked the first hammer to be ready to serve the mysterious rider a buckshot sandwich in case it would turn out to be an outlaw or some other kind of two-legged varmint.

*
*
CHAPTER 12

The jingling spurs, the thumping hooves and the creaking leather came closer, closer and closer still until a black stallion appeared out of the darkness. The rider sat stiff as an ironing board high atop the tall steed; only the occasional pained groan proved the person was among the living.

Mandy inched to the side to get a better angle of fire and to avoid getting too close to the horse's long legs and heavy hooves. It wasn't until the stiff rider let out a highly familiar 'Ugh… sombitch!  Lawrdie, I sure ain't good with them dang-blasted hosses,' that Mandy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Wynne?  Wynne, is that you?" Mandy said in a quiet voice so it wouldn't carry over to the hut and thus ruin their element of surprise.

'Wha'?  Mandy?  Where y'all at?'

"Down here… on the ground," Mandy said and let out a chuckle at her own silly comment.

Wynne grabbed hold of the reins and pulled the horse to a halt. As she did so, a moonbeam happened to illuminate her clean-shaven face - it caused Mandy to let out a sigh of relief and hurry over to help.

"Whoa, Diabloh… whoa!  Naw, I done said Whoa didden I?" Wynne croaked as she tried to keep the stallion's reins taut although it insisted on wandering all over the sandy ground. "Yuh, I done said Whoa an' sure ain't Go'ah!  Ugh!  Whoa!  Y'all ain't lissenin', hoss!  Whoa means whoa, dad-gummit!"

Chuckling, Mandy reached up to pat the stallion's neck which caused it to calm down at once. She took the reins as well so Wynne wouldn't get tangled up in them.

"Dang that there stubborn hoss… I might as well ha' taken that dog-gone mew-le aftah all," Wynne mumbled before she leaned over the side to see where Mandy had gone off to. "Lawrdie!  There ya iz!"

"I'm relieved to see you again, Wynne… truly I am. I thought you had left for good…" Mandy said as she put a warm hand on Wynne's leg.

"Yuh, I dunno whaddindahell done happened there. Wus weird. Aw, even weirdah than u-shu-al, yuh?"

Nodding, Mandy looked back at the derelict building they had been keeping under surveillance when Wynne showed up; the light continued to shine indicating that all was calm among the men and their hostages. "Please keep your voice down. Burdette and Rains are inside the hut with-"

"Haw?  Whut hut?"

"That hut!" Mandy whispered and pointed at the structure that rose from the desert floor not thirty yards from the point where the two women had met.

"Aw-shoot… I didden see that thing… I woudda gone straight inta it… or through it, dependin'," Wynne whispered back before she slid her boot out of the right-hand stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle.

For the umpteenth time, her leg snagged on the travel pack attached to the rear of the saddle - the resulting display of sublime vaudevillian acrobatics left her britches dangerously close to their tearing point as one boot was planted on the sandy desert floor while the other was stuck fast at an altitude that had to be six-and-a-half feet above the sand and rocks. "Awww-shoot… this he' dang-blasted hoss… ugh… ugh… ugh!" - Hop, hop, hop - "Can't- can't- awwwww!" - Hop, hop, hop - "Can't… get… mah… dog-gone… leg… down… from…" - Hop, hop, hop - "Dang'it!  Fih-nally!  Lawwwwwr-die…"

Once the ordeal was all over, Wynne had to lean against Diablo's flank to catch her breath and get her hipbones pointed in the same direction once more. "Mebbe I oughtta ride bareback… naw, mah buhhh-tt be hurtin' enuff as it is," she said in a croaking mumble.

Throughout all that, Mandy had needed to clamp a hand onto her mouth or else she would have laughed out loud. Unfortunately, there was little room for laughter when Diego Benitez came blasting out of the darkness a moment later.

The irate cavalry Colonel stomped over to Wynne and grabbed a fistful of the shirt belonging to the person he saw as the bearded, leathery Texas Ranger Captain Winston Donohue. "You son of a bitch!  You may be a big shot among the Rangers, but you are a pitiful human being!  You acted as judge, jury and executioner over those outlaws… and killing the piano player was nothing short of evil!  Is that how all Texas Rangers conduct their business?  I thought you people had honor and integrity!"

Wynne chose to stay silent beyond an atonal grunt that could mean absolutely anything.

"You disgust me!  I want nothing more to do with you from now on!" Diego said and gave Wynne a strong shove in the chest. A severe huff escaped him before he spun around and stormed into the darkness while uttering a long line of incendiary Mexican words.

"Sombitch…" Wynne whispered once Mandy had come back to her. "So it really wus me who done them things?  Mercy Sakes, that dang saloon wus a bloodbath… I didden participate in any o' them killin's, y'all gotta bah-lieve-that, Mizz Mandy. Hell, I wussen even there fer da most part…"

Mandy cast a glance in the direction Diego had gone before she reached up to place a quick kiss on Wynne's smooth cheek. "I believe you. I saw you disappear. That was the most terrifying thing I've ever seen."

"Yuh, wussen no fun doin' it, neithah!  I kinda flew off on a blindin' white lightnin' bolt an' all. I only done came back aftah all y'all had alreddy left. The ol' sombitch Winston Donnah-hew ain't been around since, but… okeh. Les'not speak o' the devil, haw?  Whut we gonn' do now?"

"Now we raid the hut. Are you armed?"

"Yuh… well, almost. I plum fergot mah 'Chestah back in Goldsborah. I dunno wheredahell that went… it prolly still be at Derrike's. But I got mah knife an' mah Colt," Wynne said as she patted the holsters on her thigh. "I jus' need ta put a few mo' o' them bullets in it an' all. Then I be reddy."

"Good. There's no telling what Burdette and Rains will do to those women. I think we need to move in as soon as possible."

Wynne drew her revolver and cracked it open. Using her fingernails, she ejected the first spent cartridge from the drum before she reached behind her to take a fresh one from her belt. "Yuh, I hear ya, darlin'," she said and inserted it without giving much thought to what she said. When the term of endearment registered with her, she came to a halt. "Aw… beg pardon an' all, Mizz Mandy. Ya know whut them wise folks say…"

"Fools rush in?"

"I wus gonn' say old habits die hard, but yuh… that one works fer me as well."

"I could get used to you calling me darling," Mandy said with a grin; it faded as the sound of a woman crying reached their ears. "Those bastards… c'mon, Wynne. It's time."

Wynne let her Colt do the talking - after giving the full drum a whirring spin, she closed it with a metallic click.

---

Mandy, Wynne and the Colonel rapidly closed the distance between themselves and the hut. Leaning against the nearest wall, they signaled each other to move around the corners to cover as many angles as possible. Wynne remained at the window where the kerosene lamp created the golden point of light. Inching upward, she peeked through the pane-less opening to get an impression of the layout.

The interior of the derelict hut was crude and in a poor state. The collapsed roof blocked the entire back half of the floor, so there was in fact little room for four people in there. Two bare bunks - one in plain sight and one immediately below the window - a fragile-looking chair and a desk that had several decades' worth of desert dust on it had been placed at random.

The two hostages were huddled up on one of the bunks. Their torn dresses and bruised faces proved the evil intentions of Burdette and Rains if there had ever been any doubt. Both were quiet and appeared to be in a state of shock.

Wynne inched to her left to get a view of their opponents. When she clapped eyes on J.D. Burdette standing at the desk cleaning his revolver, her face scrunched up into a dark mask. A grunt of surprise suddenly escaped her - Artie Rains wasn't there.

Slipping back down into the deeper shadows underneath the open window frame, Wynne rubbed her brow several times. She was about to crawl around the corner to let Mandy know about the missing Rains when the sound of creaking wood reached her ears. The creaking was followed by several grunts as if someone tried to get his heavy rear-end off the second of the two bunks.

'Damn that wretched Texas Ranger!' Artie Rains said in a voice that had lost all its pompousness - now, it sounded just as abrasive as it always had. 'Kicking down the door like it's the damned Alamo… if we hadn't left early, we would have been caught right there and then!  I told you we should have drilled him from afar… some of our men ought to have made it out here by now. He must have killed them all.'

J.D. Burdette chimed in: 'Forget those amateurs. They're dead. We just need to start a new gang… that won't be a problem. There are scores of renegades and outlaws between here and Jarrod City.'

'Maybe. But we need supplies before we can cross through the desert… we need water!  And why the hell did you drag those whores along?  They only slowed us down!'

'Hostages are good bargaining chips. But if you're tired of 'em, kill 'em.'

The ladies gasped at the chilling statement and the casual way it had been delivered; one of them began to cry. The tears and sobs only added to Artie Rains' ire - the hard sounds of his bootheels impacting on the floor proved that he stomped across the wooden floor.

'Don't you start that wailing again, woman!  I'll slap you silly if you don't shut up!' Rains barked; the threat only worsened the sobbing.

Wynne inched upward once more to peek inside. Her ice-blue eyes had barely reached the windowsill when her legendary rotten luck caused a bust of royal proportions - she and Artie Rains locked eyes.

An expression of raw horror swept over the fat man's fleshy face. He froze in place for a split second before he let out a roaring "The Ranger's here!" and grabbed one of the hostages to use her as a shield.

A barked "Sonovabitch!" came from J.D. Burdette who spun around and fired a pot shot through the open window - the thunderous blast of his .45 nearly made the rest of the roof collapse. Jumping ahead, he smashed the kerosene lamp which made the hut fall into complete darkness. Another blast from the revolver was accompanied by a bright flash and a hellish shower of sparks and gunsmoke.

Outside, Wynne howled and took to the ground in an almighty hurry. Burdette's second shot hit the windowsill where she had just been, so a veritable flurry of wood chips rained down upon her hat.

She was about to rush around the corner to get out of the firing line when a severe dizzy spell struck her. Everything around her began to tilt and twist. As even the sounds and monochrome colors around her grew distorted, she wrapped her arms around herself to have something to hang onto in the middle of the brutal assault on her senses. "Naw… naw… gotta fight… gotta fight 'im… Winston gonn' kill… kill… those… wimmenfolk… if I… don't… fight 'im…"

Somewhere across the endless void of time and space, Mandy's voice shouted 'Wynne!  Please, can you hear me?  Wynne, please wake up!'

Wynne kept her eyes firmly shut and her jaw clenched as she struggled against the fit. Mandy's voice continued to swirl around in her head, but the words changed to 'Wynne!  Were you hit?'

As the rolling thunder of gunfire echoed all around her, Wynne fought on against the nebulous presence that threatened to claim her body and soul. Her breath came in short stabs that were barely enough to provide her with the oxygen she needed, and every muscle in her body was clenched to keep the insatiable presence of Winston Donohue out of her mind.

Little by little, one by one, step by step, her senses returned to normal. The world around her stopped tilting, she could hear the gunshots much clearer and the cordite suddenly tore at her nostrils once more. "Gawwwwwwd," she croaked as she reached up to rub her face that had grown numb during the fit. She hurriedly checked for signs of Winston's beard and leathery skin and let out a deep sigh of relief when she found none.

"Wynne?  Were you hit?"

"Haw?" Looking around, Wynne soon spotted Mandy kneeling at the corner of the hut. She continued to hold the shotgun that didn't appear to have been fired yet.

"Were you hit, dammit?!  How many times do I-"

"Naw, I wussen… I wus rasslin' with Winston. Who that there doin' all that shootin'?"

"Burdette!  He's firing like crazy in there!  He's got us pinned down and we can't shoot back as long as the hostages are in our line of fire. Wynne, you can't stay where you are… he's already blasted the walls several times!"

"Y'all got a point there, darlin'," Wynne said and scrambled away from the spot at the open window. When she reached Mandy's position at the corner, she threw herself onto the sandy ground, drew her Colt and cocked the hammer. "Lawrdie, I just had a fit like no othah fit I evah done had… not even as a kid when they wus the worst. That sombitch Winston Donnah-hew tried ta invade mah mind, but I reckon I wus able ta keep 'im away fer now. Tell me, do I got a beard?"

Mandy let out a strangled chuckle as she shook her head. "I'm pleased to say you don't!"

"Thank the Lawrd fer li'l favors… okeh… okeh… gotta think… shoot, I wondah if Diegoh an' them folks inside still see me as Winston?  Only one way ta find out, yuh?"

Though Wynne jumped to her feet and moved to run back around the corner, Mandy grabbed hold of her arm before she could go anywhere. "Texas Ranger or not, you're not invulnerable, Wynne!  Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't!"

"Yuh, but we need-a break this he' stalemate perdy dang soon… if nuttin' else, then fer da sake o' them girls in there. Soonah or latah, Burdette an' Rains gonn' take their frustra-shuns out on 'em."

"All right, but be careful!  And duck if they shoot at you!"

"Haw!  Yuh, I sure wus plannin' on doing jus' that, darlin'!" Wynne said and let out a snicker that had a stronger undertone of panic than she had wanted.

Crouching down, she hurried past the open window and tore around the next corner. When she locked eyes with Diego Benitez who was pinned down on the far side of the hut, she was able to see the venom and disgust in them even at twenty paces in the middle of the night. "Lawrdie, ol' Diegoh sure sees me as that there bearded fellah… okeh. Mebbe that be fer da bettah right now. He' goes…"

Wynne rose to her full height, stormed ahead and let her boot do the talking directly on the handle of the hut's old, rickety door. As the door, the frame and even the entire jamb were torn off and flew into the hut, she stuck her Colt through the dark opening and fired a shot toward the roof so she wouldn't risk wounding the two ladies.

The blast and strong flash from the discharge were soon met by cries, roars and a response written in hot lead. The resulting bullet tore out of the smashed door and slammed into the sandy desert before it could harm anyone.

"J.D. Burdette!  Artie Rains!" Wynne roared at the top of her lungs. "This he' be Cap'n Winston Donnah-hew o' them Texas Rangahs outta Shallah Pond!  Yer surrounded!  Y'all got ten seconds ta come outta that there hut withcha arms in da air, or we gonn' blow ya sky haaah!  We done brought some dyn-ah-mite an' y'all bettah bah-lieve we ain't be 'fraid ta use it!  Come back!"

'You're insane!' Artie Rains roared. 'We have hostages!  Don't you give a damn about them?'

"Naw!  But if ya send 'em out, we might discuss this man ta man!"

While Wynne delivered the last part of her message, Diego ran over to her. The two people who would be friends in the distant future were now far closer to being sworn enemies - or rather, Diego and Winston Donohue were.

The color of the Colonel's face proved he was on the brink of busting a gut at the Texas Ranger's vicious ways. Although he tried to speak several times, all that came out of his mouth were fragments of Mexican curses.

Inside the hut, the two ladies cried out pleading with Rains and Burdette to let them go. It seemed the threat of dynamite had sewn a seed of dissent between the men - their heated conversation was carried out at such a volume their angry words could only be heard as muddled shouting.

'We're sending the whores out now!' Rains suddenly roared. A moment later, the fat man shoved the ladies out of the door with such force that Diego was knocked onto his rear.

As the Colonel and the former hostages ended up in a grappling mess of torn dresses, flailing arms and kicking legs, Rains and Burdette stormed over to the busted door and opened fire at random. Rains let out a resounding cry of "The horses!  The horses are gone!" at the sight of the empty spot where he and his associate had tied their steeds to the old post.

"Then we'll steal theirs!" Burdette barked with the same kind of thunderous volume. "Get a move on before I plug you myself, ya fat, miserable son of a-"

Wynne jumped up and whipped up her Colt Peacemaker at the speed of light. "Drop them hog legs an' stick 'em up!  Dontcha be tryin' nuttin' sh-toopid, ya hear?  I got all y'all covah'd!"

Almost as expected, Artie Rains let go of his revolver at once and threw his arms in the air. J.D. Burdette wasn't about to surrender that easily, so he took a pot shot at Wynne before he spun around and punched his boss in his blubbery gut for being a coward.

J.D.'s pot shot did no harm, but Wynne's answer did: the hot lead whistled through the air before it slammed into the shootist's hand. Blood squirted from the wound which caused him to lose the revolver - roaring in pain, he clutched the wounded hand before he tried to run back into the hut.

Wynne was faster. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of his collar and yanked him onto the sandy ground. She cocked the hammer again and held the warm barrel against the skin on his cheek. "I wudden test me if I wus y'all, J.D. I got a warrant fer yer arrest. That there Wanted-postah done says Dead Or Alive, yuh?  Bein' a Rangah, I ain't gonn' be collectin' the ree-ward money anyhows, so I woudden have no qualms 'bout wastin' y'all right he'. Y'all feel lucky, punk?  Haw?"

Mandy had raced around the other corner and came to a sand-flying halt right next to the scene. She cast a grim, concerned glance at the steely look on Wynne's face - but she let out a sigh of relief at the taller woman's sly wink and slight shaking of the head.

"I'm done," J.D. said in a despondent voice.

"Yuh, I reckon that be exactly whut y'all iz… done. Get on yer feet, son. I don't feel like carryin' yer bee-hind all the way back ta Goldsborah. Y'all got a nice, comfy jail cell waitin' fer ya."

J.D. was soon led away by some of Diego's men. Within moments, he had been put on a horse with his arms and legs chained together so he couldn't even dream of manipulating the horse into running off.

While all that had been going on, Diego dusted himself off after untangling himself from the two women - Rodolfo and Madam Ruby helped the former hostages over to the buggy. Artie Rains had almost recovered from the sucker punch to his considerable gut, but his bright-red complexion and wheezing breath proved the soreness ran deep.

Wynne stomped over to the fat man who would seemingly be her eternal enemy regardless of the era. She grabbed hold of his pale-blue Western suit to look him in the eye. "Artie Rains, considah this yer las' warnin'. We be expectin' y'all ta be gone from town befo' sun-up. If ya ain't, them consequences gonn' be severe. If y'all come back with new varmints, they gonn' be even mo' severe. Y'all need me ta spell it out fer ya?  Haw?" - The latter part of her statement was illustrated by the age-old gesture where she held her thumb and index finger as a gun that poked into Rains' sore gut.

"What the hell do you care what happens in Goldsboro, Ranger?  You're not from around here," Rains said in a strangled, croaking voice. Up close, his wobbling triple-chins, ungainly face and thinning hair almost turned him into a caricature of a town boss. The only thing that proved he wasn't defeated yet was the fire that burned in his beady eyes as he glared at the Texas Ranger.

"I am an' I ain't. It be a long story, Rains. It ain't nuttin' y'all need-a concern yaself with. Yuh?" Wynne said before she moved away from the fat man. "Colonel Benitez, this he' prisonah be reddy fer transpor-"

From one moment to the next, Artie reached into a hidden pocket in his Western suit and drew a silver-plated, two-chamber Derringer that he aimed at Wynne's chest. His face turned hard, mean and nasty as he cocked the hammer and squeezed the trigger.

A panicked cry of "Watch out, Wynne!" burst out of Mandy as the small-caliber - but nevertheless potentially lethal - bullet escaped the Derringer and tore through the air on a collision course with the Ranger's chest that was only a few feet away.

Mandy's cry turned to a roar as she swung the shotgun downward and struck Rains' hand - the violent impact broke the fat man's wrist and made him howl in pain. Spinning the shotgun around, Mandy continued her frantic action by burying the stock deep into his gut; then she forced it upward until it clobbered him across the jaw.

Wynne and Artie both fell to the ground at the exact same time.

Mandy let the fat man fall as she hurried over to the woman who would be - and had already become - far more than a friend. "Wynne!  Wynne!  Where were you hit?  Wynne?  Colonel, we need some-"

"Snakes Alive… whodahell done punched mah po'ah boob?  Why, I oughtta nail that rotten sombitch's peckah ta da wall…" Wynne croaked; her face was contorted into a grimace of pure pain as the left part of her chest had been left pounding after the sneak attack.

A moment later, Mandy's hands began a thorough pat-down of Wynne's chest to find the wound and stop the blood. The action was done in the best intentions, but the frantic touches brought a great deal more pain than gain. "Ugh… ugh!  Darlin'… is okeh. I be okeh… lissen… ugh!  Please, there ain't nuttin' wrong with me… well, 'cept some mew-le or othah jus' kicked me in da boob…"

"Your badge!  Look at your Texas Ranger badge!" Mandy said as she spotted the big dent that had appeared in the star on Wynne's chest.

"Wha'?  Mah badge?" Wynne said and almost grew cross-eyed so she could look down at her chest. "Hawwww-shit!  I only done found it the othah day an' now it be ruined!  Aw, Artie Rains… ya miserable sombitch!  Where da hell he be, anyhows?"

"Forget him… he's out cold," Mandy said before she dove in for a long, sloppy smooch directly on Wynne's kisser.

Diego Benitez arrived a few seconds later after verifying that J.D. Burdette's chains were secure. He let out a snort of utter shock and raw astonishment at seeing the hitherto level-headed Mandy Jalinski and the leathery, bearded, gnarly and above all morally depraved Captain Winston Donohue engaged in a full-on lip-lock. Although he opened his mouth to add a barbed comment or two, nothing would come out. He eventually spun around and stomped away from the inexplicable sight while shaking his head over and over.

Down on the ground, Wynne broke out in a wide grin as Mandy finally pulled back. "Lawrdie!  That li'l ol' kissy right there made the whole, dang thing worth it, yes Ma'am!"

"Glad you like it," Mandy said as she put out her hand to help Wynne to her feet.

Once they were both upright, Wynne put her hands on her hips and glared at the black stallion she had arrived on. "Ain't gonn' be ridin' hoah-me on that there big-assed hoss. Naw. I be sharin' that there buggy with Madam Ruby an' her po'ah girls. Sure iz. I reckon them friendly folks got room fer one mo' beyond me if we done squeezed tagethah. Could I tempt ya ta come along fer da ride, Mizz Mandy?"

"You definitely could, Mizz Wynne," Mandy said with a grin.

Wynne broke out in a matching grin, but the throbbing pain that shot up from her breast made it a short-lived one. "Ugh… I'mma-gonn' be black an' blue an' everythin' come tamorrah."

While some of Diego's men arrived to deal with the passed-out Artie Rains, Mandy's grin grew even wider. She shuffled around Wynne and hooked an arm inside that of the tall Ranger. "Well, it just so happens that I have a large jar of Cure-All-Aches Wonder Elixir. It'll work wonders if we apply it on the skin… I guarantee it. Maybe after you've taken your morning bath?"

"Lawwwwwwwwr-die!  I sure be likin' the sound o' that!  Tamorrah can't come soon enuff!"

-*-*-*-

An hour and forty minutes later.

Wynne had taken up residence outside the sheriff's office in Goldsboro. She glanced up and down Main Street while she leaned against one of the wooden pillars that held up the roof of the covered sidewalk.

Most, but not all, of the larger issues had been sealed with a few neat bow ties: J.D. Burdette and Artie Rains had been thrown in jail after being patched up by Doctor Byron Gibbs - who was a Doctor of Medicine and not a veterinarian unlike his future self.

Sheriff Kennedy continued to sleep it off on the cot where they had left him. Barry Simms had pinned a spare Sheriff's badge onto his shirt and strutted around like a proud peacock. Colonel Diego Benitez and his elite cavalry unit had gone back to Don Alejandro de la Vega's cattle ranch and hacienda after the successful mission, and Madam Ruby and Rodolfo Gonzalez had taken the two former hostages back to the special establishment to be spoiled rotten so they would be ready for the following day's business.

Derrike Iverson's saloon still looked like a slaughterhouse. The undertaker - not to mention the poor carpenter who made the caskets - would have to work overtime to deal with the bodies of the outlaws who had all fallen prey to a combination of various deadly sins. The saloon had had a terrible reputation even before the mutual murders, so chances were it would be torn down so someone else could start from scratch. Derrike himself was missing; nobody could remember when or where they had seen him last. Most agreed it was no great loss.

Wynne still hadn't found her Winchester rifle, and, perhaps worse, her stamina had been worn down to the last few drops of energy after the fraught night, the spine-chilling nightly ride atop the black stallion, the two fits and not least the high-octane action she had been involved in.

Someone seemed to have snuck past her defenses to fill her limbs with lead. When not even the offer of free beer over at Moira's had been able to create much of a spark within her, it was obvious that her proverbial gas tank was running dry. Sighing, she looked up at the dark sky. The full moon had gone below the horizon which left an even better view of the countless stars high above.

Wynne moved away from the wooden pillar when she noticed Mandy exiting Moira's saloon. The tough gal carried a pair of tin mugs so she was unable to signal her intent, but she let out a "Brought you some hot coffee!" that offered all the explanation anyone would ever need.

One of the tin mugs was soon transferred from Mandy to Wynne's hand. The dark-brown liquid was hotter than lava, but it was just what was needed after the long trek through the desert that always turned far colder at night than most people expected. "Much obliged, Mizz Mandy," she said before she took a probing sip.

"You're welcome. And I still don't see any beard," Mandy said with a grin.

"Haw. Sure is nice ta hear." A longer sip was taken before Wynne turned to study Mandy's presence that was equal measures soft and bone-tough. "Lissen, Mizz Mandy… I got a-cuppel-a things ta say ta y'all, but we need-a find some o' them there nice chairs or a bench or some such perdy dang soon… or else I'mma-gonn' drop on mah buhhh-tt in da middle o' da street."

"I know where there's a porch swing. It's undisturbed."

"Haw. Lead on," Wynne said and put her hand on Mandy's shoulder.

---

Three minutes later, Wynne had been led down a narrow alley and into a back yard behind one of the townhouses. The yard was undisturbed like Mandy had promised, and the rear porch offered a magnificent view of the desert beyond Goldsboro and the grand sky above it all. "Aw, wouldya look at them stars… this he' sure be nice an' all. Yuh. Who done lives he'?"

"I do."

"Shoot, izzat a fact?"

"Yup."

"Haw," Wynne said as she lowered herself onto the swing's bench seat. The metal chains that held it up squeaked and the wood it was made of groaned a little, but the striped cushion she sat on was soft and comfortable so it all evened out in the end. "Yuh, I can deffa-nete-ly see y'all an' some gor-guss gal sittin' on this he' swing an' jus'… ya know… jus' bein' yerselves."

"Well, it's been a while. Let's not dwell on that now. I need to get something from my kitchen. I hope you won't fall asleep before I get back!"

"I'mma-gonn' try not to!" Wynne said before she took the final swig of the coffee. The empty tin mug was soon put down on the ground by her boots. The darkness that engulfed her did in fact make her drowsy, but Mandy soon came back holding a lit kerosene lamp and two square pieces of chocolate.

The lamp was put on a hook not too far from the swing before she sat down and snuggled up close to Wynne. "Here you go… a little chocolate."

"Haw!  Luv me some choccies!" Wynne said with a grin. When she went for the first bite, she learned at once that while the smell and taste were exactly the same as in her own time, the structural solidity far exceeded what would come later - in short, it was at least three times as hard as the garden-variety supermarket chocolate she usually bought. "Mercy Sakes, this he' stuff be… haw!  I shoudda saved some o' mah coah-ffee fer this he' bouldah… but it sure iz tasty an' all," she said around chewing on a chunk.

"Glad you like it. I've been saving it for a rainy day," Mandy said and scooted so close she could hook her arm inside Wynne's. "And since we don't have too many of those here, well… this is a good opportunity to enjoy it."

"Much obliged," Wynne said before she needed to cover her mouth to hide a yawn. "Beg pardon. Lawrdie, I be so dang-blasted tired I can hardly use mah noggin fer anythin' othah than eatin' this he' great choc an' flappin mah gums with y'all. Lissen, Mizz Mandy… we need-a tawk 'bout som'tin impahrtant."

"I see?"

"Yuh… I jus' wanna tell ya that gettin' ta know ya these he' past cuppel-a days made mah life he' so much bettah," Wynne said as she reached up to muss Mandy's neck. "Even with all them shitty things that done happened, I hadda blast whenevah we wus tagethah. I hope y'all feel da same."

"I do, but… you're leaving?"

Wynne let out a sigh. She munched on the hard chocolate for a moment before she broke out in a shrug. "I reckon I hafta. My work he' is done. Ta be precise, Cap'n Winston's job is done, an' if he ain't he', I can't be he' neithah. He gonn' be haulin' J.D. Burdette back ta Texas ta stand trial fer them crimes that wus done there. Yuh?  Artie Rains gonn' be forced outta town tamorrah… make that latah taday. Tho' Rogah Kennedy's days as Sheriff o' Goldsborah prolly be ovah, that ain't nuttin' me or Cap'n Winston got any control ovah or input in. That there deci-shun be up ta da Town Council. So… yuh. I reckon I be leavin' come dawn or thereabouts."

Now it was Mandy's turn to fall quiet. She stared up at the eternal stars for several long seconds before she whipped her head back to gaze at Wynne's sharply defined profile. "Dammit, I wish I understood how all this was even possible… there are literally two people in your mind. You and some random guy who just happens to be a lawman. What if-"

"Ack-chew-ly, I went inta his mind an' body. Y'all is the only one who been seein' mah real face. Everybodda else only saw Cap'n Winston…"

"Well, all right. But what if you had come into the mind and body of one of the outlaws?  Hell, or even Artie Rains!"

"Lawrdie, that woulda put a crimp in mah day," Wynne said in a mumble. "Mizz Mandy, this jus' ain't mah time. The las'thing I want is ta cause ya pain, but I so dearly wish ta return ta mah own time… mah own Mandy… an' mah bayu-tiful dawggies Blackie an' Goldie. I miss 'em all so dang much. I know it be shitty as hell toward y'all, but…"

Another pregnant pause developed between them. Mandy chewed on her piece of hard chocolate for a while until she let out a somber grunt. "I was four years old when the first shot was fired in the War Between The States. I guess I'll reach, oh… my early seventies. That'll be around nineteen-twenty-eight or so. Will you even be born by then?"

"Naw. Not fer anothah forty-three years."

"Damn. We'll never meet again."

Wynne let out a deep, long sigh. Though the chocolate and the company had given her a boost, the fatigue had caused her senses to grow numb so she reached up to rub some life into her skin. "This he' weird, creepy, scary deal be so dang-blasted unfair… I'mma-gonn' meet y'all whenevah I return ta mah own time. But y'all ain't nevah gonn' meet me again 'cos mah Mandy ain't you… or… I don't reckon she is… though… mebbe she is but jus' don't 'membah nuttin'?  Lawrdie, this dog-gone thing makes mah head spin."

"Maybe my soul or spirit or whatever you might call it will show up in your time as someone else?  I hope it will."

"Haw, me too. Yuh. I sure be crossin' mah fingahs fer ya, Mizz Mandy. Woudden that be som'tin?" Wynne said and broke out in a tired smile.

Nodding, Mandy grabbed hold of Wynne's arm and leaned against it. "Whatever happens, I'll definitely think back to these days with… well, I was about to say fondness, but far too many tragedies have taken place for that to be true. I'll definitely remember you with fondness. Not the bearded guy. He can go to Alaska for all I care."

Wynne leaned her head back to release a long chuckle. "Yuh!  I hear ya, Mizz Mandy. Ol' Winston sure be a peculiar fella, awright. Old-fas-shunned in all them wrong ways. Yuh. Shoot, I reckon I bettah be on mah way. I need-a get some sleep tanight or else I ain't nevah gonn' make it through tamorrah… or taday… or whenevah."

"Oh… already?"

"Yuh. I reckon," Wynne said and moved to get up. She and Mandy shared a long look before they both rose from the porch swing holding hands. "Much obliged fer da coah-ffee an' that there chocolate. Wus great. A li'l hard, but deffa-nete-ly great. An' thank ya muchly fer da comp'ny as well, Mizz Mandy. Haw, I still can't bah-lieve y'all be smokin' da pipe, tho'!"

Mandy's lips creased into a wistful smile that didn't last long. "A girl's gotta have a hobby, right?  I already knew how to make cross-stitch embroidery so carving pipes was next."

"Okeh… haw…"

"Now come down here so I can kiss you goodbye."

Though Wynne had never been a fast learner, there were certain things that she had picked up in a hurry: drinking beer, fiddling with old cars and kissing gorgeous gals. The first two would have to wait until she returned to her own time, but since the third element was right there in her arms and ready to be kissed, she would be a fool not to do what she had been asked.

The goodbye kiss turned into an unhurried affair; certainly warm and gentle, but perhaps slightly less serious than those they had shared earlier during the brief moment in time they had been allowed to know each other.

Pulling back, Wynne reached out to caress Mandy's cheek. "I reckon I need-a be on mah way. Ta be truthful, I wanna be as far away from y'all that I can be if… or prolly when… Ol' Winston comes back. He ain't good for nobodda an' 'spe-shually not y'all, Mizz Mandy. Ain't no tellin' whut he might do."

"I understand. I hate it, but I understand," Mandy said in a quiet voice as she leaned into the touch. "Yeah, I don't want anything to do with him. He's a cold-hearted butcher."

"Yuh. Goodbah, Mizz Mandy. It done been a blast, that sure ain't no lie," Wynne said and tipped her cowboy hat. They shared a final look before she turned around and walked back out of the yard.

As she reached the sandy, rutty Main Street, she looked at the hustle and bustle that still went on following the violent night. The flickering torches illuminated the grim tasks carried out at Derrike's saloon: men working for the undertaker continued to drag bodies out of the ruined establishment while others carried scrubs and buckets of water inside to clean the blood off the floorboards.

Several people mourned the murdered piano player - most had heard he had been killed by Captain Winston Donohue of the Texas Rangers, and a bad mood was already brewing.

Elsewhere, countless citizens whooped, hollered and cheered to mark the end of the outlaw rule. Many fired their revolvers and rifles into the air; others rode their whinnying horses or drove buggies at speed through the street.

Temporary Sheriff Barry Simms milked the moment for all it was worth by strutting through the crowd carrying a shotgun and a shiny badge while telling all and sundry of his heroic efforts in the big showdown.

Widespread joy was good for certain businesses, and Madam Ruby had several of her girls out on the street to take care of the urgent needs that would undoubtedly arise among the celebrating men.

A dark, somber mask fell over Wynne's face as she took in the noisy goings-on that surrounded her. "Haw, it gonn' be a while befo' I'mma-gonn' watch anothah Westurhn, that be fer dang sure. I jus' 'bout had it with this he' time. Dad-gummit, if I only knew howdahell ta get back ta mah own world. Ta mah own Mandy… an' mah dawggies. Shoot."

Setting off at a slow pace so her fatigue wouldn't cause any embarrassing stumbles, she took to the quieter covered sidewalk to be out of harms' way. On her way to the livery stable at the northern end of town, she walked past Mrs. MacKay's Eatery, Saloon & Gambling Parlor, the general store, the hardware store, the drugstore, Doctor Gibbs' medical practice and the other eateries and saloons like the Gold Nugget, the Silver Spur Café and the Jade Dragon Gambling Parlor. She was cheered at Madam Ruby's special house, but her fascination with the entire immersive experience had vanished by then so she didn't even acknowledge the scantily-clad ladies of the night.

It wasn't until she reached a peculiar object that she hadn't seen in town before that she came to a halt. A mumbled "Haw?  Whaddahell izzat now?" escaped her as she spotted one of the white benches that the future Goldsboro Town Council had placed along Main Street to attract tourists. "This he' thing ain't saposed ta exist in this he' time…" she said out loud as she touched the armrest. "Izzat a good or a bad thing?  Lawrdie, I ain't sure of nuttin' no mo'-"

A female voice crying 'Wynne?!  Please wake up!' suddenly penetrated the wad of cotton wool that had been stuffed into her tired mind; the voice had belonged to Mandy.

Spinning around to see the nature and extent of the trouble the tough gal found herself in, Wynne wasn't even allowed to reach a full turn before a blinding white flash engulfed her.

-*-*-*-

Flashes of white and moments of inky darkness wrestled for supremacy within Wynne's mind. The violent struggle between the evenly matched opponents raged on for eons. Entire universes were created and destroyed as the powers continued to tear and unravel the threads of her soul.

Little by little, the monumental combat began to fade and she was permitted to regain the first traces of consciousness. She found herself at the bottom of Lake Void and had to swim upward for yet another eon before she could see the proverbial flickering light on the far side of the surface.

Wynne cracked open an eyelid. She was on her back looking up at the dark sky. Something unpleasant was pushed down onto her face. Someone let out a cry of joy. Further cries followed. A pale blob that could have been a face moved in close. Other pale blobs were nearby. A chill fell over her which made her shiver. It all became a little too much in one go, so she slammed her eyelid shut as fast as she could.

'Wynne?  Can you hear me?  Wynne?' a female voice said from somewhere on the far side of the known universe.

"Haw…"

'Wynne?  Please… you're almost here… just a little more… fight it… fight it, whatever it is!  Please…'

"Haw?"

One by one, the neurons returned from their vacation to resume their day jobs in her upstairs department. Plenty of moaning and groaning was uttered at the sight of the horrendous untidiness they returned to. As the most energetic of them rolled up their proverbial sleeves to get down to business sorting out the mess, others moved around the various offices to turn the lights back on and assess what needed to be done to get all subsystems online once more.

Wynne's hearing only needed a minor adjustment to be back to normal. Her sense of smell seemed to be restricted as her nostrils could only pick up a weird scent that reminded her of the radiator hose for her 1979 Chevrolet K10. Taste was irrelevant at present, but touch seemed to work as it should - when she moved her fingers, a hand covered her own within seconds, and she was able to feel that without any issues.

'Wynne?  Please… just a little more… can you open your eyes?'

"Haw… yuh."

Cracking open an eyelid had worked earlier, at least for a short while, so she tried the trick again. Startled by the presence of a pale blob mere inches away, she drew a deep gasp which made the unpleasant thing pressing down onto her face let out a weird hissing sound.

"Whaddahell… izzat… thing… anyhows?" she croaked in a muffled voice as she reached up to her mouth and nose to explore the annoying, mask-like thing.

'You're breathing pure oxygen…'

"Haw?  Whaddahell for?"

When nervous and almost screechy laughter reached her ears, she tried cracking open her other eyelid to see if the entire world had gone mad or if it was just her. The pale blob was still there, but at least she could get it into sharper focus by using both eyes.

After a few moments, she was able to identify a blonde mop of hair, greenish eyes and a soft but strong face - the information was studied and sent along various neural pathways until a result was reached: "Haw… Man… Mandy… Mandy!  Izzat really you?  Haw… Lawrdie… but which o' them Mandys 'r ya?"

Before the important question could be answered, a long line of things happened in a very short amount of time. First of all, the Mandy of this particular time dove down to slap a big, wet kiss on Wynne's forehead. Then a pair of dogs started barking and yapping their heads off just out of sight - and finally, several male voices let out cries and various whoops of joy in Spanish and English.

"Holy shit, I be da main attrac-shun he'," Wynne said through the oxygen mask. She grew cross-eyed as she tried to look down at the contraption that kept her lips from being thoroughly kissed. "Naw, this ain't right!  Will somebodda please get that there dang-blasted thing offa mah face?"

An elderly man wearing a white lab coat - Doctor Byron Gibbs, the best veterinarian in all of MacLean County - moved in close to release the elastic band he had tied around Wynne's head to keep the mask in place. "There you go, Miss Donohue. Be careful when you sit up. You might faint again."

"Yuh, that sure ain't no lie. Been there, done that an' ain't got no int'rest in comin' back for seconds, nosirree. Howdy, Doc," Wynne said and reached out in a search for a helping hand. She was given several, so she had soon been turned upright on the white bench.

A croaked "Whoa…" escaped her as she swung her legs over the side. The sight of the cars parked at the curb and the uniforms worn by the people closest to her proved she was back in her own time. Across the street, her name shone in bright LEDs on the marquee above the entrance to the movie theater.

Looking down at herself, she let out a grunt when she established she was still wearing the Texas Ranger costume she had donned for the Grand Western Parade and the premiere of the horror B-Western she had starred in.

Not two tenths of a second later, she was nearly bowled over when Blackie and Goldie jumped up onto the bench and gave her so much doggy-loving she couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Hawwwwwwww!  Mah dawggies!  Mercy Sakes, I done missed ya like ca-razy!  Gimme some lovin', girls!"

The Golden Retriever and the black German Shepherd did as asked and intensified their two-pronged love-assault on their owner. After much fur-rubbing, mussing and happy yapping, they jumped off the bench to give room for all the Humans who wanted to say hello to the time-traveler.

Sheriff Mandy Jalinski didn't need a written invitation but sat down at once and wrapped her arms around her partner. The tough Sheriff's cheeks glistened as she buried her face in the crook of Wynne's neck. The pulse point on the side of her own neck continued to thump along at great speed, but its pace gradually slowed down as a result of the strong, mutual hug.

"Cap'n Wynne Donnah-hew o' da Texas Rangahs outtah Shallah Pond reportin' fer duty, Sheriff," Wynne said as she continued to hold onto the woman in her arms.

Mandy was too choked-up to reply so Wynne had time to look at the other people present. Slight confusion fell over her at the initial sight, but it soon came back to her. "Howdy, Rodolfoh. Quick Draw. Colonel," she said wearing a tired smile.

Rodolfo Gonzalez and Beatrice Reilly - who wore their full Deputy Sheriff uniforms as their shifts were far from over - both carried strong looks of relief on their faces at Wynne's apparent resurrection.

Diego Benitez, however, narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. Still wearing the exquisite, black Caballero costume that he and Dorothy Tyler had designed and sewn for the Grand Western Parade, he looked over his shoulders to see if anyone who would fit the description of a Colonel had moved up behind him. When that proved not to be the case, he removed his Boss Of The Plains hat to scratch his slick hair.

Mandy finally pulled back from the hug. She looked away at once so her deputies wouldn't see the tears that had rolled down her cheeks and stained her uniform shirt. A handkerchief offered to her by Beatrice was soon accepted; it was able to take care of the chink in her armor in no time flat.

It was obvious for the females present that privacy was urgently required, so Beatrice stepped forward and put her hands in the air. "Gentlemen. The show's over and you may go about your business. Doctor Gibbs, thank you very much for your effort. Just send your bill to the Goldsboro Town Council. They'll need it in triplicate. Mr. Benitez, the coffee's brewing down at the sheriff's office if you and Senior Deputy Gonzalez need some."

Diego, who was still puzzled about Wynne's 'Colonel' remark, appeared to be even more puzzled by the sudden haste in getting everyone off the street. It wasn't until Rodolfo made a few kissy-sounds that he understood. "Ohhhh… right. Sure, sure. Well, have fun, Wynne. I'll be down at Moira's if you wanna shoot some pool later on."

"Okeh, Diegoh. Ain't too sure how mah timetable gonn' be lookin' fer da rest o' da evenin', but I might show up at da saloon. Yuh?  Bah-bah y'all," Wynne said and tipped her cowboy hat. Once it was back on her dark locks, she smiled at the woman who had been a fierce opponent until recently. "An' Quick Draw… thanks a bunch. Yuh, there gonn' be some kissin' comin' up right 'bout now."

Beatrice grinned at Wynne's comments before she jumped into a regulatory salute directed at her Sheriff. With that, she spun around on her heel and marched away like she was back at the drill grounds at the Academy.

The winds that swept in from the wide open desert made Wynne shiver. She was already chilled to the bone as her costume offered no shelter from the low ambient temperatures of late December; a fair-sized tremble ran over her body that almost left her teeth chattering. "Lawrdie… this he' be way too dang cold fer kissin'. Y'all reckon we might borrow ol' Abe Rosenthal's office upstairs in that there mooh-vie theatah or som'tin?  'Cos, dang, this he' be chilly!  I done spent the past day an a half bein' baked, an' lemme tell ya som'tin, Sheriff Mandy, I ain't addin' eithah ol' or new-monia ta this he' weird, weird deal, no Ma'am. Get it?  Haw?  Ol' or new-monia?  Wus perdy good, yuh?  Ya didden reckon it wus?"

Mandy narrowed her eyes at Wynne's comments about being baked for a day and a half; she soon gave up trying to decipher it and settled for storing it for later. "I'm sure Mr. Rosenthal won't mind if we ask nicely," she said and got up.

"Haw. Ya didden get it. Shoot," Wynne said and scratched her neck. "Mebbe I need-a fine-tune myself a li'l befo' I crack too many o' them there jokes…"

Once Mandy had risen from the white bench, she helped Wynne up as well and provided balancing support for the first few seconds. "Let's ask him. We have a lot to talk about."

"An' a gigantoh backlog o' kisses ta go through, too," Wynne said and broke out in a tired grin.

Down below, Goldie yapped and chased around in a tight circle; Blackie settled for letting out a single bark before she took off across Main Street to get to the movie theater where it had all started.

*
*
CHAPTER 13

Abraham Rosenthal's executive suite on the upper floor of the movie theater was a study in luxury. Despite the fact it had been built almost on top of the theater auditorium itself, the expensive, foam-like sound-dampening material that had been poured underneath the floorboards and inside every wall meant that no sounds filtered through from the movie that happened to be playing downstairs.

The wall-to-wall carpet was in a deep shade of burgundy; the same shade was used on the curtains that covered the office's only window. A hi-gloss mahogany desk dominated one end of the office while an oxblood leather coach arrangement consisting of a four-seater couch, a dark-wood coffee table and two satellite armchairs performed the same role further into the room.

A nine-strong collection of legendary movie posters formed the centerpiece at the far end of the office. Although the posters were scaled down to a third of their regular size, the display almost had an air of a shrine to the grand art of motion pictures to it.

Three of the posters were for classic tearjerkers made by the legendary director Douglas Sirk, three were for 1930s-era gangster films and the final group of three were Westerns explaining Rosenthal's enthusiasm for showing Cowpokes vs The Undead Vampyre Ghoul - even if few would argue that a horror B-Western from Padded Cell Productions could measure itself against Angel And The Badman, The Magnificent Seven and Ride The High Country.

After Wynne's brief spell of being more energetic, her complexion had once again been reduced to the shades of gray it had been for so long leading up to the movie premiere and the Grand Western Parade - her particular shade of gray being the evil offspring of stress and ten nights' worth of awful sleep.

Dead-tired and yawning, she made a beeline for the couch that Abraham Rosenthal had readied for them. Yawning again, she sat down on the large, warm throw that had been swept over the leather couch so the dogs' claws wouldn't harm it. After taking off her cowboy hat - few self-respecting Cowpokes, and certainly no Texas Rangers, would ever wear a hat in such an elegant salon - she nabbed a second throw and pulled it over her shoulders.

A chuckle escaped her when Mandy came into the office a short minute later carrying a tray that held a coffee pot, a pair of mugs, a stack of napkins and two plates with small, wrapped treats known as Nougat Favorites. "Good Lawrd Almighty… ain't dat som'tin?  Me an' y'all be havin' coah-ffee an' choccies twice in twenty minnits!"

Mandy narrowed her eyes as she put down the tray on a table mat so the coffee table wouldn't be scratched. "Wynne, are you sure you're all right?  You've said the oddest things after you regained consciousness…"

"Haw?  Like whut?"

"Like calling Mr. Benitez Colonel… and being baked for a day and a half… and having coffee twice…"

"Aw… yuh… I'mma-gonn' tell ya all 'bout it a li'l latah on. As soon as we done kissed some, that is."

Family bliss was restored when Goldie jumped up onto the couch and got herself comfortable across Wynne's lap. Once Mandy had sat down on Wynne's right, Blackie completed the ensemble by taking the final spot on the four-seater couch.

One kiss became two, then three, then four, then five. The fifth was the longest and ended in a long, comforting hug. No words were necessary and none were spoken. Soon, their heartbeats fell into a perfect rhythm that matched each other's all the way.

A warm hand found its way under the throw that kept Wynne protected from the chill. The hand had already done a little exploring when it touched a sore spot close to Wynne's left breast - it caused a wince and a brief hiss. "Oh… I'm sorry," Mandy whispered.

"Aw, dontcha worry none, darlin'. That there boob jus' be a li'l sore aftah whut done happened. Mebbe y'all could find that there Cure-All-Aches Wondah Elixir y'all wus- shoot, that wussen he'. Nevah mind," Wynne said before she went back to a little more kissing now that Mandy's lips were so close.

The sixth kiss would be the last for a while; Mandy slid back to fill the mugs with large quantities of hot coffee for herself and Wynne. She unwrapped a Nougat Favorite and offered it to Wynne before she spoke: "I've never been so scared in my life. Never. When I saw you lying there on that bench… I was late for the showing because… wait, I better take it from the top."

"Okeh," Wynne said around the small piece of sweet chocolate. "Lawrdie, this he' choccie sure is a whole bunch softah than the othah one, haw?  That wus a li'l too hard fer mah likin'. No wondah so many folks done had missin' teeth. Yuh… haw, sorry fer interruptin' an' all."

Mandy once more stared at Wynne as if she had two heads. Not even a long swig of hot coffee could cure her puzzled state, so she pushed it aside for later. "I'm really sorry I couldn't be at the theater for your star panel and the start of the movie. We had detained a drunk who was sick in the holding cell. It was a mess that took an eternity to deal with."

"Aw, think nuttin' offit, darlin'. I done had a nice tawk with Rob Steele. The panel wus kinda fun, but mebbe a li'l intimidatin'," Wynne said and took a long swig of the coffee.

"And when I was finally able to get here, it was almost too late. Like I said before… I had never, ever been so terrified in my entire life. Not even back in San Cristobal. There were some bad situations there, but they were nothing compared to this. Or even during some of the hairy situations we've had with monsters and various ghouls here. No comparison. When I saw you slumped over on the bench, I was sure you were dead."

"Dang… it wussen fun ta be in da middle of, but that there jus' goes way beyond mah discomfert," Wynne said and reached out to muss Mandy's neck. "Lawrdie. Had that there situa-shun been revuhrsed, I dunno whaddahell I woudda done. I woudda freaked out like… like… haw, I jus' woudda freaked out."

"I knew I couldn't deal with it myself so I called Doctor Gibbs. He was still down at the holding cells looking after the sick prisoner, but he came up here in a flash and took your blood pressure and checked your pupils and all those typical things. He said there wasn't anything wrong with you-"

"Naw, it wus all inside mah head. Yuh. I done had one helluva dizzy spell. One fer da ages."

Mandy broke out in a wistful smile and leaned across to place a quick kiss on Wynne's coffee-flavored lips. "I calmed down a little after that… I called Rodolfo and Beatrice and asked for their assistance. They came running, but… of course… there was nothing they could do, either. Well, beyond providing emotional support."

"Yuh. I be grateful fer ol' Quick Draw fer that. I guess she be back on mah Chriss-mass card list, haw?"

Another wistful smile creased Mandy's lips before she scooted closer to Wynne to rest up against her side. To her right, Blackie followed suit so the family could stay tight. "Christmas is next weekend, Wynne… it's too late to send a card."

"Aw… yuh, that be right. Sorta fergot the date, there. I wus jus' in Joone or Joo-ly… naw, scratch that, darlin'. It wus August. Y'all done tole me that yerself. Yes, Ma'am. Okeh. Mebbe we could drop bah with a gift basket, then."

"Maybe. Well, Doctor Gibbs suggested that we called for the heli-paramedics from Barton City just to be safe. I did, but it was already in the air responding to an accident out on the Interstate. They couldn't give us an ETA at all so I annulled it."

"Yuh, them folks only got da one choppah. Aw, tell ya whut… I reckon not gettin' it wus da right call. I woudden want ta prevent somebodda who done hadda wreck from gettin' help. 'Spe-shually not when I wussen actually needin' medical assistance or nuttin'."

Mandy shifted around a little to look at Wynne's sincere face - a quick kiss on the cheek duly followed. "I was on the brink of needing some from seeing you like that, hon," she said before she took a swig of the coffee. "That's when Rodolfo suggested that he and Diego would race home to get Blackie and Goldie-"

The dogs let out an enthusiastic Woof! and Yap! respectively just to make their presence felt.

Grinning, Wynne reached down to rub Goldie's fur. "Yuh, I reckon I heard 'em at one point. I heard y'all as well, but… I kinda went undah again but them dawggies an' y'all done pulled me back ta the surface. An' he' I be."

"Yes, you responded to all the loving thoughts we sent at you. All of us," Mandy said before she emptied the mug. "And then you came back. It was the high point of my life… maybe we can get Reverend Bernadine to hold a special service for us when we visit Mr. Bradberry for the New Year. We certainly have more than enough to be thankful for."

Their planned visit to Cavanaugh Creek to see Ernie Bradberry suddenly flashed onto Wynne's internal radar screen - with all the organizational drama she had been involved in the past two weeks, it had just about slipped her mind. She broke out in the widest of all possible grins at the thought of finally getting to chew the fat with her best buddy.

"Well, that's what happened here while you were unconscious," Mandy continued. "Now will you please explain some of the odd comments you've made?  Would you like another Favorite to help it along?"

"Haw, I ain't nevah said no ta chocs, darlin'!" Wynne said and took the Nougat Favorite Mandy handed her. After unwrapping it, she flung it into her mouth and let the rich taste of the soft chocolate fill her senses.

She fell quiet as she tried to digest the events that she had been involved in during her extended stay in the other Goldsboro. Everything was still so vivid in her mind's eye that it didn't require much thought to be back in the desert with Billy Jack, or walking along the sandy Main Street, or dealing with the black stallion, or interacting with the alternate versions of her friends and acquaintances.

"Just take your time, hon. I'll be quiet to give you room to think," Mandy said and added yet another kiss on Wynne's cheek.

Wynne's lips wanted a slice of the loveliness as well, so they insisted on being used. Grinning, Wynne took care of the urge by pulling her partner even closer and returning the kissing favor.

"Yuh, it be like this… I nevah left Goldsborah, but I went back in time. Ta eighteen-eighty-nine. Like we done saw in that there pictorial book, 'member?  Aw-yuh, an' I done found out who that there Texas Rangah really wus. He wussen the name listed in da book at all… Drummond?  Naw, he wus Winston Donnah-hew outtah Shallah Pond, Texas. I know that fer a fact 'cos I wus him!  I ain't pullin' ya leg, darlin'!  I reckon he might ha' been a distant relative o' mine, but I ain't too sure. Okeh, so I had a prisoner that I done brought ta Goldsborah. Billy Jack O'Neill. An' get this, I wus ridin' on a gigantoh, black stallion!"

"Oh!  Really?"

"Yes, Ma'am, sure wus!  That darn hoss wus biggah than a big thing, I be tellin' ya!  Anyhows, when I done arrived he', I met y'all as one o' da first folks. Yuh, y'all wus there, smokin' a pipe an' lookin' so dang-blasted tuff an' sexy it wus almost too much fer da likes o' me."

The look on Mandy's face proved she had already had a very hard time believing a word of what she was told, but the latest news was the drop that made her cup of disbelief run over. "Smoking a pipe?  You saw me smoking a pipe?"

"Haw, I sure did, darlin'!  Y'all had made it yerself an' everythin'. It wus one o' them there Popeye corncob pipes, ya know?  We done tawked an' had one helluva good time tagethah. Jus' like we be havin' now. Yuh… But anyhows, I done saw a buncha familiar faces 'round town, like ol' Barry an' Moira… Rodolfoh, Dolores an' Diegoh… Diegoh wus a formah Colonel in da Mexican Cavalry. He done worked as head o' security fer Dolores' daddy, Don somebodda… haw. Yuh, Don Allie-handro. So, I hear ya ask, how come them folks needed security?"

Mandy didn't know how to respond to that in any kind of logical manner, so she settled for letting out a curious chuckle and a "Go on…"

" 'Cos none othah than Artie Rains an' J.D. Burdette wus there controllin' them outlaws an' bandits an' cattle rustlers an' general riff-raff. Yuh. I done had a Wanted-postah for ol' J.D. in mah pocket an' everythin'. Executin' that ordah proved ta be mighty tuff, lemme tell ya. Haw, it done took us a day an' a half to sort out da mess-"

"Wait-"

"-an' even then we needed da help o' Colonel Diegoh's elite unit. Yuh. Haw, I slept in da livery stables!  Reeked ta haaah heaven, lemme tell ya… y'all lent me yer bathtub so I could scrub mahself clean!  But anyhows. Me an' y'all an' several o' them good folks o' Goldsborah done went ta war against Rains an' Burdette."

"Wynne-"

"Naw, hold 'em hosses… I be almost done, yuh?  Okeh, an' then I discovered that Winston Donnah-hew wus a dirty, rotten sombitch. He didden care 'bout nuttin' but his ordahs, so he manipulated them outlaws inta killin' each othah. Mercy Sakes, that wus jus' 'bout the nastiest thing I evah done clapped eyes on. By the way, that done happened in Derrike's saloon. Rains an' Burdette managed ta escape somehow, but the othah Mandy an' the Colonel done tracked 'em ta the abandoned minin' settlement out at Oswald Creek. We done had one helluva old-school Westurhn showdown out dere, sure ain't no lie!  Yuh."

"Wynne, there's something-"

"Naw-naw, jus' two seconds mo', yuh?  Okeh, so them sombitches had done taken a-cuppel-a hostages… two o' Madam Ruby's girls, yuh?  So we hadda make sure they wus safe befo' we could get ta them ring-leadahs. Well, I took care o' J.D. mahself… I didden kill 'im or nuttin', jus' clipped 'im but good. Anyhows, the nasty-ass Artie Rains done pulled a small gun on me an' tried ta drill me but good right in da boob!  I ain't too sure how in da hell I wussen wounded or nuttin', but I wussen. An' then a buncha othah things happened… an' then I came back to all y'all. Ain't dat one awesome story, darlin'?"

Mandy could do nothing but stare at Wynne's face while a three-feet tall, neon-green question mark floated around above her head. "Yes… an awesome story. Wynne…"

"Yuh?"

"You were only unconscious for half an hour… at the most."

Goldie moved up her head and let out a puzzled Yap? - Blackie did much the same only with a Woof…?

"Haw…"

"And… I don't know how to tell you this because… well, you obviously believe you really did experience all those things-"

"Wha'?  Naw, hang on, Sheriff Mandy… that wus too real not ta be real… if ya catch mah drift. I wus deffa-nete-ly there an' all!  Lawrdie-"

"No, please listen," Mandy said and put a warm hand on Wynne's cheek. "It's the plot of your movie, Wynne. You just described all the scenes you went to Hollywood to film… remember?  When they rewrote the majority of it so you could have a bigger part beyond the monster stuff."

"Naw…"

"Yes. Add the old photograph of the Ranger, and… well, there you have it."

Wynne fell against the backrest of the couch and let out a long sigh. "But dat don't make no sense, darlin'… it wus so real… I done touched them hosses an' smelled their dung an' that there gunsmoke an' heard them people tawkin' ta me. An' I sure tasted yer sweet lips, too. An' da beef pie an' them spicy beans. That wus all mah mooh-vie?  Naw…"

"Yes, it was."

"Awwww-shoot… Lawrdie."

"At least you weren't frightened or in pain," Mandy said and kissed her partner's cheek. "Wynne, as soon as we get home, I'm ordering you to stay in bed for a week. I want you to be in tip-top shape for Christmas and the New Year. Understood?"

"Haw… yes, Ma'am. I be lookin' forward ta it," Wynne said with a smile that soon faded. "Mercy Sakes, I can't bah-lieve that none of it wus real… I can still taste da warm beer ol' Slow Lane done served me ovah yondah at Moira's Saloon!  That wus plum awful, by da way…"

Mandy shrugged and crabbed away from Wynne's side to get another of the Nougat Favorites. Wynne took the opportunity to pull the warm throw off her shoulders. When Mandy leaned back holding a new treat, she stopped mid-motion to stare at a certain spot on her partner's chest. "What's that?" she said and pointed at a shiny object.

"I dunno… ya see anythin' weird?" Wynne said and looked down at her chest. She couldn't see that anything was wrong, so she pulled out her double-breasted shirt to get a better look. "Haw, this he' li'l thing is da Texas Rangah badge I done… found… up… in… wait a minnit… wait a dog-gone minnit!  It be polished an' shiny!  But it wussen… it wus all tarnished when I done found it in da ol' lockah. An' look at that right there!  Y'all see it?  Tell me y'all see it!  It got a big-ol' dent in it!  Yessirree, it got a big-ol' dent in it from when Artie Rains done tried ta drill a hole in me with that there Derringah o' his!"

"That can't be right…"

"It is right!  That there Texas Rangah badge there got a dang-blasted dent innit, don't it?  Sure as heck does!  Lawwwwwwwwwwwwr-die… dat means… dat means… it wus all real… aw!" - Wynne just sat there with shock written all over her wide-open face; then a grim expression caused her features to grow dark and angry. "An' dat means Rains wus aimin' at mah boob, too, that mean sombitch!"

Blackie and Goldie joined the chorus by woofing and yapping - Goldie could sense the eerie tones being played in yet another supernatural symphony, so she promptly rolled herself into a golden ball and dug down the furthest she could across her owner's denim-clad lap.

"This is just too incredible, even for Goldsboro's insane standards," Mandy said and shook her head over and over. "Wynne Donohue, someone needs to write a book about you…"

"I ain't got a clue whadda say he'… an' that sure don't happen too offen, no Ma'am. Mercy Sakes, I knew it wus too real not ta be!" Wynne said and broke out in a wide, two-armed shrug.

A moment later, a sequence of knocks on the door interrupted their debriefing. "Yuh?" Wynne said loudly so her voice would carry through the sound-dampening material.

The door soon opened to reveal Abraham Rosenthal. As it cracked ajar, the rousing theme used for Cowpokes vs The Undead Vampyre Ghoul's end credits could be heard playing downstairs. "Miss Donohue, the credits are rolling. Are you able to meet and greet the spectators as they leave?"

"Haw… yuh. Yuh, I'mma-gonn' be there, Abe. Gimme a minnit ta gathah mah wits, yuh?  Much obliged."

Untangling herself from Goldie and getting on her feet took a few seconds, but Texas Ranger Wynne Donohue of Shallow Pond was soon standing tall and proud once more. After plonking her beloved cowboy hat onto her dark locks, she reached out for her partner. "Mizz Mandy, may I have yer hand?  We gotta close this he' show in fine style, dontcha know. I'mma-gonn' need yer sapport. An' all y'all wondahful dawggies as well, o' course!"

Woof! - Yap!

"Okeh?"

"Lead on, Ranger…" Mandy said and accepted the outstretched hand. "I still can't wrap my head around what just happened, though."

"Haw, welcome ta mah world, darlin'… whut y'all jus' done said 's perdy much how I always feel 'bout most things 'round he'," Wynne said and strode over to the door.

-*-*-*-

"Have a good night, Mista, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'," Wynne said as she shook hands with one of the people walking out of the theater auditorium. "Have a good night, Ma'am, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'. Have a good night, Mista, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'. Have a good night, Ma'am, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'. Shoot, I didden know there wus this many folks he'!  Have a good night, Mista, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'. Have a good night, Ma'am, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'… Mercy Sakes…"

Standing off to the side of the exit-lobby with Blackie and Goldie, Mandy kept a close eye on Wynne's body language and complexion - the slightest hint of a relapse, and the law in town would step in and put a swift end to the meet-and-greet.

The handshakes continued: "Have a good night, Mista, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'. Have a good night, Ma'am, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'… Lawwwwwwr-die, how many mo'?!  Mah po'ah arm…"

Mandy was soon joined by the huge presence of Rob Steele who couldn't stop grinning at the spectacle. "Wynne certainly looks the part in that costume, doesn't she?"

"Very much so," Mandy said with a smile.

"She's a natural in front of the camera, that's a fact. I still can't believe the quality of the new material they filmed. I wasn't involved in that at all so I had no clue they had actually made a real Western. The parts with the monster were crappy to the Nth degree compared to Wynne and Roger's scenes in town. I wouldn't be at all surprised if there was a Golden Ghoul nomination on the horizon for her."

"A what?"

"Like the Academy Awards, only smaller scale and for SciFi flicks and disaster movies… you know. Monster movies, cheapo horror. B-stuff. The Golden Ghoul Award has a great reputation in the industry, though. A lot of well-known names have won over the years. Some of them are legends, actually."

"I see. Wynne could use something positive happening in her life," Mandy said as she studied her partner going through the line of spectators. "All this stress has really brought her to her knees. Hate to see that."

When the handshaking was finally over and done with, Wynne shuffled over to Mandy and Rob - her right arm just hung there like a limp asparagus. "Howdy, Rob… have a good night, Mista, an' thank y'all muchly fer comin'," she said with a tired grin.

"What?  I don't even get a handshake?" Rob said and let out a booming laugh. "Never mind, I'll just give you a monster-crush instead."  Reaching out, he pulled Wynne into a big, but surprisingly tender, hug. "You were great in the movie, Wynne. Don't let anyone tell you you weren't. Okay?"

"Okeh. Yuh, I reckon I done had one helluva time workin' on it… all things considah'd. Yuh… much obliged, Mista Rob. Where y'all be goin' now?"

"First of all over to Moira's Bar & Grill. Roger and I have a couple of projects to discuss and a few beers to strangle. Are you and the Sheriff coming?"

Wynne shook her head; a yawn crept up on her that she needed to conceal with the back of her hand. "Naw, I don't reckon. Me an' them dawggies gonn' head hoah-me. We be havin' a matinee showin' tamorrah fer all mah friends an' acquaintances 'round town, so… I need-a be reddy fer that. Mebbe we'll tawk on that there Intahnet latah, yuh?"

"Oh, we definitely will. All right. Goodbye for now, Wynne. Sheriff," Rob said and shook hands with the two gals before he went back into the theater auditorium to stir the snoozing Roger Kennedy.

Another yawn rolled over Wynne's face. "Yuh, I bettah find mah pillow perdy dang soon. Are ya drivin' me an' them dawggies hoah-me, Sheriff Mandy?"

Down on the floor, Blackie jumped to her paws and let out a gentle Woof? to wake Goldie up.

"Well, of course I am," Mandy said and hooked her arm inside Wynne's as they and their dogs began to stroll toward the lobby's exit. "Do you really think I'd let you drive in your condition?  But I can't stay. My shift doesn't end until two A.M. We have so much to clean up after the parade and the hundreds of visitors who were here. At least we won't have that to deal with tomorrow."

"Naw. That wus too much of a good thing. It wus a fabulous parade, but… jus' a li'l too much."  Stepping onto the sidewalk, the chilly wind reminded Wynne of the ordeal she had been through. She fell quiet and looked at the white bench where she had collapsed. "Haw. At least I didden bump mah noggin fallin' onta that darn thing. Tho' I wondah whaddahell ack-chew-ally happened… it wus so real. So dang real…"

"I don't know, hon. We'll never find out."

"Naw, I reckon we won't. I do know one thing, tho'… there ain't gonn' be no mo' ridin' on black stallions in mah future 'cos mah buhhh-tt still be sore aftah the las'one- Haw!  Whuddinda-wohhhhhhh-rld!"

Following the exclamation, Wynne came to a sudden halt and just stood there staring wide-eyed at something further down the street. "I don't bah-lieve it!  Somebodda musta busted that sombitch outtah jail!" she said in a voice that carried an undertone of something not usually associated with Wynne Donohue.

"Wynne!  Are you all right?  Please, I don't understand… what's going on?" Mandy said and hurried around her partner to look her in the eye.

"J.D. Burdette be makin' a run fer it!  An' he got Artie Rains with 'im, that S.O.B. Lawrdie, aftah all that trubbel we done had puttin' 'em behind bars an' they jus' be walkin' outtah there!  Lookie ovah yondah, Sheriff Mandy!" Wynne said, pointing down the street.

Mandy spun around to see what Wynne meant. The two men in question exited Derrike Iverson's bar each holding the evening's final can of beer. Walking over to Rains' gray Dodge sedan, they laughed like one of them had just cracked a joke.

"Wynne… hon… that all happened in… in… wherever you were. It didn't happen here!"

"Haw…" Wynne blinked several times as she watched Rains' car make a U-turn and drive south on Main Street. "Shoot, yer right. Mercy Sakes, it gonn' take some effort recoverin' from this he' weird, weird deal. I can see everythin' I done in that time so clearly… hear them folks I done met an' tawked ta… smell them hosses…" - after a brief delay, she added: "An' taste that there awful, awful warm beer…"

Mandy didn't have anything of value to add to that, but actions always spoke louder than words so she quickly got up on tip-toes to place a nice smooch on Wynne's lips.

"Why, thank ya, darlin'!  Aw, anyhows… les' go hoah-me. I suddenly got a hankerin' fer a Dubbel-Zerah. A cold Dubbel-Zerah!  Yuh. Giddyap, mah dawggies!"

A puzzled Woof-woof-woof?  Woof! burst out of Blackie, but when it dawned on the black German Shepherd that nobody was going to explain it to her, she shuffled over to stand next to her golden-furred companion.

As Wynne, Mandy, Blackie and Goldie strolled down a deserted and windy Main Street to get to the parked truck, the edge of the breeze carried faint, ethereal notes of an upright piano and the spirited warbling of a songbird singing all the popular hits of the late 1880s…

*
*
THE END

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