Chapter Text
Art by ForeverAngelCou
https://x.com/AngelCouForever?s=20
Tucked in the back of a smoky saloon, black worn gloves methodically rolled a pinch of pure tobacco in a small blanket of paper on a rickety old wooden table.
A pair of unfriendly ember eyes peeked under the rim of a black dusty hat, inconspicuously observing the crowd of uncivilized cowpokes and vaqueros with a few scarlet ladies hanging off the highest blacklegs.
Lively music came from an old dark green tortoise in a brown bowler's hat, tickling the keys of a slightly off tune piano. However, the melody wasn't loud enough to muffle the menagerie of drunken laughter, scrapes of chairs across the old wooden floors, and outbursts as bets were won or lost.
A low hanging haze filled the dimly lit room reeking of sweaty bodies, worn leather, cheap cigarettes, and even cheaper kerosene.
A glimpse of a white fang could be seen as the edge of the quirly was licked causing the roll to adhere to itself. He made two more quirlies and then tucked them snugly into his vest pocket for later use. The first one rested by his whiskey waiting to be set aflame.
He avoided those factory-made sissy sticks if at all possible. They tasted like dirty lies and cost more than a steer in a drought.
When by himself or in private chambers when his meager salary allowed, he preferred his fancy wooden pipe to calm his restless nerves that only required some brown weeds and a match. He acquired the briar through a particular round of his preferred 5-card stud and draw, Faro.
He never liked taking it out in public on the off chance someone might take a shining to it and attempt to claim it for themselves. He may not have much to his name, but he fiercely protected what was his.
Most folk in these parts referred to the ornery black and red hedgehog holding down the back corner as Shadow the Hedgehog. But, on the handbills nailed on every tree and post, they gave him the name —
The Deadly Dark Outlaw.
The law wanted to strike fear into folk's hearts in hopes someone would catch the sorry bastard dead or alive. Preferably dead, some say. Bounty hunters and opportunistic reward seekers dared their fates at least once or twice a month, if he was counting. They would try and sometimes... the reaper rode west with another soul.
It is well known to cross the dangerous gunslinger was to bring consequences upon themselves, and no telling just what damage would come to them neither. No opponent left without the rugged outlaw's mark whether from a black eye or a bullet hole in the chest.
It wasn't quite the legacy he hoped for in his life, but it earned him the respect he needed in many sidewinder circles, kept most enemies steering clear of him, and earned him a little change in his pocket.
To the common folk, he was either treated with caution, respect, or mild adoration, particularly the young'uns.
To the higher class or law abiders, he was shunned, cast out, and despised but never on any occasion, simply dismissed.
Much to Shadow's dislike, his contrasting ebony fur and quills with bright fiery red stripes made him easily identifiable in a crowd. Upturn quills framed his noggin and a furrowed brow permanently rested on top of his ember eyes. His sharp features seemed to be a magnet for unwanted attention, good, bad, and everything in between.
He couldn't change it nor did he want to.
Instead, he used his physical attributes to his advantage, leaning into his naturally dangerous appearance and presence. The shallow scar, "awarded" to him in his early years, that stretched between his left eyebrow and cheekbone, just added to his lethal flavor.
And he was well aware his own rough visage turned heads in town, even while was just looking after his own hook. On occasion, he'd think to crook a snake-charmin' grin to spark a little lady companionship before sunrise.
However, he kept those nights few and far between, mostly to stop soft hands from getting too firm a grip. Attachments made a fella vulnerable, like a herd without cow hands. A man has his cravings, but Shadow held them at bay with fleeting moments and simple exchanges.
He's no low-down jasper knocking on soiled doves' doors, but he sure didn't want it whispered around town he was a gentleman neither.
As if on cue, he glanced across the room to a familiar violet kit fox with a buttercream curly updo and tan ruffled frock that cut low in front, doing little to disguise her natural advantages. Her golden eyes settled on him like a claim she meant to stake. She had been holding that slow-burning stare since she served him a hot bowl of beef stew and a shot of dark liquid.
Moments of their last passionate rendezvous crossed his mind and set his blood to stirrin', enough that he gave her a moment's consideration. Her tall, pointed ears shifted subtly to attention. Painted lips curved up in hopefulness.
He remembered the urgency of her grip, the way she clung to him like she meant to anchor him there. Soft fur, hot under the surface. Gasps of desire, breathless and desperate...
No. Not tonight. He was plumb done in, plain and simple. Worn down to the bone.
As if to make his decision final, the square-jawed outlaw turned back to his dinner and didn't spare her another glance. Much to her disappointment.
Scoundrel.
After finishing his meal, he lit up his quirly. The scrape of a match was always satisfying to hear at the end of an evening. Signaling to his noggin that he could allow himself a moment to unwind from surviving another day.
He had enough rings in his pocket that he could afford avoiding the card tables tonight and stuck his back to the wall while resting his ropers and savoring the taste of his whiskey.
He took a long drag and held his breath to absorb as much of the tobacco as he could. Then, slowly letting the air exit his lungs, feeling his body relax. As he held the handmade roll between his scowling lips, he leaned forward to reach behind his back and extract his trusty Bowie knife from its sheath.
He idly spun it between his fingers, eyes tracking the way its polished edge flashed in the room's light. He saw his scarred brow and cheek reflected on the blade's smooth surface.
The knife's weight sat too easily in his grasp—dangerously natural, as if the blade belonged there. He thought back to all the times he'd relied on his Bowie knife—to hunt for food, to guard his hard-won meals from prowling wildlife, and to protect his own life when it came down to survival.
A loud cackle across the room broke his train of thought, drawing his attention across the room to witness the noisy hombre slam his hand in triumph on the table as he clearly had won the latest round of cards.
Taking another pull of smoke, he took that opportunity to sweep the room with a narrowed glare. There was no telling at any point if someone would try and invade his space uninvitingly or tempt their unfortunate fates with liquid courage. Any looks turned in his direction swiveled back to their tasks in haste and dared not look again.
His message, clear — leave him alone.
He tucked himself deep under his winter poncho's hood to hide his crimson markings and keep the lingering chill from gnawing at his tired bones. Only then did he place his knife on the table and fished out an old rag to begin cleaning the boot spurs he'd shed earlier.
His long, thick eye lashes slightly obscured his red eyes as he gazed downward, rubbing off dried mud from one of his spurs with the rag and using his bowie knife to dig out the stubborn dirt. He shifted one of his boots over the other that rested on a chair in front of him.
He was riding solo for another day or so until he met up with his two companions in the rip-snortin' boomtown of Ambrosia. He thought on how the coming week or two was likely to pan out. If the cards fall right, they're fixing a mighty big change. Good or terrible. Or, just another week being a desperado.
As he inspected the fresh shine of his spurs, his ears got to twitchin' like a cornered jackrabbit's nose as he heard a different pair of spurs, all too familiar. Clicking with a slight drag of one foot just beyond the saloon's door.
Flattening his ears, his chest rumbled as the sound drew closer. He swiftly pocketed his spurs and downed the last of his whiskey as murmured gravely to himself, "Fuckin' asshole don't know when to quit..."
A slick-haired black and white jackal, Collin Finnegan, or Infinite as he branded himself, moseyed through the double-action entrance with a silver, red, and black half mask over the right side of his face. Folks around him stopped to stare at the stranger with the even stranger face covering.
Shadow couldn't help smirking to himself, reminiscing how that piece of horse shit acquired his disfigurement. Looks like a shovel of hot coals to the face ain't no warnin' for that fool, he thought to himself as he slipped his knife off the table surface.
Hiding his bowie just under his poncho, his other hand did the jittery dance over the hilt of his Colt .45. Infinite's yellow eyes scanned the lively game area as his degenerate lackeys spilled through the entryway behind him.
A few of Infinite's minions Shadow didn't recognize, hightailed it straight to the bartending tarantula serving drinks, while two others, Fang the sly weasel and Bau the mangy hound dog with a bowler's hat, began to walk around the loud music and chatter.
To his relief, a drunken couple noisily slipped off a chair in laughter, distracting the bootlickers enough for the dark-cloaked gent to skedaddle out the back, quiet as a sage hen.
He wasn't in any mood for pickin' a scrap with their lot tonight.
From the dark alley across from the saloon, he watched through the dirty front window as Bau wandered over to Shadow's empty table and sniffed the air. The old dog leaned down to touch the still warm seat and wagged his finger for his masked leader to come hither.
He saw Infinite sneer for a moment before collecting himself back into his cold calm.
"Maybe another time, Collin the infinitely slow as molasses," he growled before he faded into the darkness of the alley.
At the livery stable, he worked the iron lock of the entrance and slid inside. He stopped to get his reckonings and breathed in the fragrance of hay, grain, leather, and horse manure. It soothed his soul. Horse stalls lined up on either side of the building full of resting equine.
He was right lucky to find room for his appaloosa in the last shack in the middle.
He quietly eased towards the stall where his gelding, noshed on his pile of fodder. He greeted his rider with ears forward and a quivering nose, releasing a low curious blow as the hedgehog entered his space.
"I'm afraid we'll need to fetch ya some fancy new shoes come our next stop in town, Teaspoon." The horse made a soft huff and gently nuzzled Shadow's side as he threaded his hand through his recently brushed black mane.
"At least one of us got the trail dust washed off and spruced up," he murmured in a low deep tone. Teaspoon gave Shadow's battered traveling coat a playful tug, flaking off bits of dry mud, almost in silent agreement regarding his disheveled appearance, pulling a soft chuckle out of the dark hedgehog.
Teaspoon was a handsome bay appaloosa, red-brown coat and speckled white and black patterning on his entire backside. Appaloosas are known to be an incredibly versatile breed that can handle many disciplines and terrains. The perfect range-ready mount for a saddle tramp like himself.
Shadow had inherited the stoic gelding along with his entire saddle get-up and duel pistols from the famous Wild Bill, the most legendary, gun-slinging lawman across the New Frontier. In the darkest point in Shadow's life, 'Ol Bill took in the starving teenager and trained him up in the way of lead slinging and the school of hard knocks. The old hoss rode off into the sunset in Shadow's arms, on the very night he turned eighteen.
Well, the day him and his best pal Rouge reckoned they'd share a birthday, seein' as neither soul was rightly sure of when they'd first took breath in this world.
Back in the livery, there was no time to linger. He needed to get as much space between him and Infinite as possible. He quickly grabbed some extra feed, tossed it in a burlap sack, and put the trail rigging on his saddle. He dropped some extra rings in an empty bucket for the grain and led his mount out while he scanned his surroundings one last time.
Black leathered fingers softly brushed curious fuzzy noses to keep them quiet as he passed. Then with a heavy sigh, hopes of a soft bed gone up in flames, Shadow and his Appaloosa slipped through the back door and into the cover of night.
✦ ✧ ◇ ✧ ✦
The high desert sun shone brightly in the sky as the horse and rider followed a gravely dry riverbed (or wash) slightly down slope. His curved wooden briar hung low off the side of his mouth as he contentedly inhaled the last of his smoke. The sweet taste of tobacco saturated his tastebuds and calmed his restless mind.
He tilted his hat up slightly to get a better view of his surroundings. The dry wash led them into an open space blanketed with a sea of sagebrush, yucca, cholla cacti, and rocky outcrops.
Although the temperatures were still cool —which put him in good spirits— the various species of cacti were opportunistically flowering due to an early rainfall. The valley felt alive with bright colored blooms contrasting the green stems and yellowish white spines.
Teaspoon's brown fluffy ears swiveled forward in anticipation as a small creek came into view. Shadow dismounted with a painful grunt and led his horse to the edge to cool his throat.
He had already tied up his poncho and jacket to the saddle hours ago, but he was still sweating from the warm sunlight on his back.
After tucking his pipe snug into a pocket, he untied a water canteen and extra water skin from a set of trail sacks behind the saddle. Then, he laid his gloves and hat on a nearby boulder.
Squatting down in the shallow part of the water near his mount, he tasted the water before refilling his containers. As the water stilled, he gazed upon his reflection.
Some of his physical features were unique from other hedgehogs. His ears stood taller with tuffs at the ends. His tail, longer and thinner. His fur and quills often appeared flufflier, particularly his white chest fur which was still extra thick due to the winter season.
However, what caught people off guard the most about his unusual characteristics were his pupils. The pair of perpendicular almond shapes grabbed folks' curiosity rather than the round pupils typical in other hedgehogs. Either they found it fascinating or unnerving.
It's not uncommon for mobians to cross-breed/inter-marry across mobian subspecies. Some hybrids are more noticeable than others. It just depended on who had the leading genetics. Only when crossing over animal classes, the mother's species would dominate due to their reproductive system.
But some folks still reckon themselves as "genetic purists". Hogwash in Shadow's mind.
Shadow knew close to zero about his own lineage due to growing up in a filthy orphanage. Clearly, he's a hedgehog, but there are enough traits that one would figure he carries some sort of feline blood under his fur.
When out of sight of the orphanage warden, his nipper self would playfully spar with his most trusted ally and mischievous, an audacious and flippant white bat named Rouge. She grumbled often at him about his agile and fluid movements and ability to smoothly bounce and balance on his feet like a cat.
"Says the sharpie who can fly and do barrel rolls in the air!" He would throw back at her, as typical of their frequent bantering and badgering of each other.
The one thing all hedgehogs and cats have in common is the ability to purr. For a long time, he thought that was another cat trait he carried. Until a pair of young hedgehog twins were taken into the orphanage. He recalled how taken aback he was when he heard the little ones purring to comfort each other in their sleep.
After the worn-out rider took his fill of Adam's ale, he splashed some on his face and neck attempting to wash off some of the dust and grim accumulating in his fur. The cool water felt refreshing on his hot muzzle and considered dunking his head in.
Following his rider's lead, Teaspoon started to paw the water surface playfully. As his enjoyment grew, so did his enthusiasm, and his hoof hit the water with such force, it splashed water onto his rider's head, back, and into his britches (still in the squat position).
"Teaspoon!" The ebony gunslinger hollered while he sprung up to attention.
The horse nickered as if snickering at Shadow's expense and continued to play with the water in delight. Shifting from one forelimb to the other.
"Hmph. Asshole."
The gelding shook and flung his head up and down while snorting to prove his point.
No need for the head dunk now, he thought to himself as he shook water off his upturned quills. At least it will evaporate quickly and cool him off some more.
He sighed as he looked longingly at a stand of desert willow and oak trees situated close to the creak bed. He craved nothing more than to find a cozy shady spot under them trees and catch forty winks. He was ready to drop from burnin' daylight all night, but he knew they needed to keep moving'.
He'd doubled back making his trail twisty, fixin' to keep any riders from doggin' em to their next stop. It took an extra day out on the trail, but better to endure Rouge's incessant bellyaching of being late than to face the alternative.
He would never hear the end of it if he let his "extra baggage" find its way to Ambrosia or worse, halt "her royal highney's" heist to steal one of the legendary Sol Emeralds.
There were only five Sol Emeralds in existence and one of them has been rumored to be moseying through the New Frontier by train and on its way to the coast before venturing to its native foreign land of Sol Del Sur. Long had Rouge desired to get her claws on such a prize and devised a train heist to snatch the sparkly relic as it passed between Ambrosia and Saltbush City.
Depending on how Rouge's recent sit-downs with her "business associates" panned out these last few weeks, he reckoned they oughta confirm the schedule for the relic's travels and stops. If he's right lucky, pull off the stick up within a week or so.
He's fixin' they won't be hanging their hats there long in Ambrosia. Boomtowns mean too many people for his liking. Too much raisin's cain and not enough elbow room, he thought as he rubbed his brow, feeling a headache spreading just thinking about it.
The booming burg of Ambroisa took root, conveniently close to the iron horse tracks, and smack in the middle of pristine open range bordered by rugged, saw-toothed mountains. Full of promise and pipedreams, folks stampeded toward whistle-stops, looking for new stakes and better lives.
Benefits to being nigh the iron horse brought a heap of advantages, offering a full bounty of supplies and swift travel for both folks and freight. What used to take a body weeks of dusty travel, now only took a few days by rattler.
The positive was more dough and rocks coming in. The negative was a whole swad of new people. The more high-falutin' folk and city-slickers lit the town, the more outfitters were needed, and the more shindigs and hooch to spend their dust on.
Shadow could hear Rouge's voice echoing in his skull, "And every seasoned owlhoot knows you don't rob the cribs in your own county — too easy to get collared and harder to skedaddle. So, we keep our eyes on the cavallard passing through, not the folks at home. Making a ring swap too often brings too much heat and makes the law look at you sideways. You best spread your risk and keep your rings in different pockets."
He only lightened leathers when absolutely called for. The rest of the time, he made his stake at the game tables or ridin' as a hired gun. Or if he encountered some other reckless bandit slow-witted enough to lay a hand on their pistol handle.
After casually putting his gloves and hat back on, he checked that everything was secured back onto the saddle. To give Teaspoon's hooves a break, Shadow led his mount on foot across the creek and weaved through the thick sagebrush. Eventually, they came to a dusty worn trail he knew would dead end right quick at their spot.
He mounted his saddle and adjusted in his seat while he checked for other travelers in either direction. The gelding gave a throaty snort and danced in place as if to signal to his rider he was ready to go.
He sighed heavily, "Alright, alright. I reckon we see what trouble the white bat has planned for us."
With a sharp cluck of the tongue, Teaspoon set off, trotting happily down the twisted double-grooved path as the sun began to descend in the sky.
✦ ✧ ◇ ✧ ✦
A loud clank silenced the crowd as the theater lights were suddenly shut off.
A single spotlight broke the darkness and focused on the center of the stage.
For a moment, the entire room seemed to hold its breath. Then, a melodious voice began to sing from behind the curtain.
"Do you ever miss.... the girl you left behind?"
The last note was held for a good four beats before a piano and fiddle jumped in with a lively beat.
Suddenly, a full-figured white bat bursted through the center of the curtains in a fine black and plum-colored get-up with black dangly beads along the bodice trim, making the dancing frock sparkle in the light. Rouge's long black gloves hiked the skirt up onto one hip so the layers of ruffled petticoats peeked out promiscuously.
"Is the girl you left behind out there tonight romancin'?
Makin' eyes at someone else and singin', but is she dancin'?
Only the girl you left behind, you dream her when you're sleepin'
Puts the teardrops in your eyes from secrets she is keepin'..."
With each verse of her song, Rouge posed, tapped, twirled, and winked her way across the wooden stage. Her satin layered dress showed off curves in all the right places. High on top of her head, her perfectly white curls and the ebony feathers on her beaded headpiece bounced and fluttered as she moved.
Not long after, the crowd quickly began tapping boots on the floor and joining in singing the lively tune.
As she reached the song's chorus, she cartwheeled off the stage as her leathery wings gracefully lifted her into the air only to land on a nearby table. She continued her singing and dancing while occasionally flashing her petticoats to tease an unsuspecting galoot close by.
Just off the stage stood Omega, a hulking ebony bull with coal-black eyes and red pupils that could put a chill in a body quicker than a rattler's hiss. The look came from a rare affliction called nighopticism, found in only one of every thousand Mobians. It gave him keen sight after sundown but made daylight a downright nuisance. That was why the brim of his hat spread broad as a wagon wheel, keeping the worst of the glare out of his eyes.
His block head sat right down on his shoulders, lookin' plumb neckless, save for that outsized, square-shaped sniffer jutting out front and his horns were widely set on either side of his squatty noggin. The blond mane tracing the crown of his head like a mohawk was combed smooth and drawn back into a neat ponytail. The rolled up pale gray shirt sleeves he wore were so tight around his gun-metal muscles that the fabric looked ready to pop the stitches at any moment.
To top it all off, metallic plates covered the length of each horn, hiding old fractures and a few hard lessons he'd rather take to the grave.
He kept watch over the rowdy crowd like a guard dog over a chuckwagon. Any greenhorn who wandered too close to Rouge got a hard squint from Omega that could make a body question every bad decision they'd ever made. Not a soul cared to come within six feet of the fearsome bull, and Miss Rouge found herself with more elbow room than a preacher at a poker table.
His low sitting ears occasionally flapped their assortment of piercings, batting pesky flies away.
"So, tell me you will never roam,"
(audience joins in)
"We swear we won't go roaming,"
"You'll be by your fireside,"
(Audience replies again)
"We'll all be home sweet home and
(Everyone)
kiss her, kiss her, kiss her."
After she swung a bit on the center golden chandelier, Rouge did a series of rounded flips in the air before landing back on the stage.
"So, where's the girl you left behind?"
The crowd grew louder as they fed off the bat's bouncing energy, tossing around her dress' layers of satin fabric and ruffles as she kicked and twirled once more. Sweat was starting to bead up and glisten, heavy on her brow and temples, hot as a tin roof.
"You'll find the girl you left behind....
TONIGHT, TONIGHT, TONIGHT
THAT'S RIGHT, ALRIGHT!"
The whole jamboree yelled out the closing verse, brazen as brass, as Rouge raised herself into the air once more and posed dramatically. The audience roared in applause as they jumped to their feet, clapping and whistling. In true elegant fashion, the pretty white bat delicately touched her boots onto the stage, smiled broadly, and bowed gracefully.
After a series of blowing kisses dramatically to the house assembly, she disappeared off stage. Her dazing smile dropped the second she passed through the curtain, and she stomped to the dressing room that was full of props, costumes, and various wooden boxes storing alcohol for the saloon connected to the theatre.
She mumbled to herself, madder than an old wet hen, as she plucked the trinkets from her lobes.
"You'd think, by NOW, there would have been an ornery man with red and black quills in the back of the crowd... but nooooo, of course there wasn't. Why would there be? It's not like I damn well told him I needed him to ride in BY this here day or nothin'. TOO-DAY!"
She sensed someone standing in the hallway just beyond her door and threw her headpiece at the vanity as she cussed colorfully under her breath.
"Omega, scare up something wet to drink, would you please?!"
She heard someone's weight shift against the wall.
"I swear, when I get ahold of that stupid handsome hog, Imma..."
Just as her temper was reaching a fever pitch, a small bouquet of blue and white wild lupine tied together with straw dropped on the vanity in front of her.
She gasped and heard a rich, deep baritone speak softly, "You're gonna thank him for bein' such a fine trail mate, and tell him he's mighty clever makin' sure no pack of filthy miscreants was tailin' him."
Without missing a beat, Rouge grabbed Shadow's vest and yanked him close to her face, "I's gonna say imma punch his sorry mug into next week but that'd plumb ruin my plans."
Instead, she gave him a noisy wet kiss on his smug muzzle, removed his hat in order to shove it into his face, and pushed him back so forcefully that he stumbled backwards against a stack of wooden boxes.
"Tarnation, woman! Now I got your damn greasy carmine plastered all over my face. And, you've got my best suit looking all cattywampus!"
"Tis your only suit, dumbass...'cept for the birthday suit you was born in," She snorted and enjoyed watching the ebony hedgehog wipe his face vigorously with the back of his glove.
Then, she remembered she was supposed to be madder than a hornet's nest at her best friend. She crossed her arms across her busty chest while pointing her nose in the air dramatically. "Where the hell have you been?!"
"Like I JUST plumb said, I was bein' clever and ensurin' I wasn't being followed..." Shadow shifted so that he could lean more comfortably on the stack of wooden boxes.
She froze as she absorbed his words.
"That means you already crossed trails with 'em on your way into town, fan-fucking-tastic," she mumbled to herself with an anxious expression and then, noticed the small bouquet again. She couldn't help but let the corners of her lips curve upwards.
"Hmph," he supplied as he watched her stand from her seat and disappear behind an old velvet curtain to change dresses.
The vexed woman sighed heavily, "why is Omega takin' so long?"
He rolled his eyes, "Omega was never here to take your order, YOUR GRACE. I told him to go take a load off."
He rolled his head back and let it land on the top of the wood box behind him with a dull thud. He let out a loud, weary sigh, muttered a curse under his breath, and growled, "Ain't you done yet? I'm plumb tuckered out and desperate for some real grub."
"Hold your horses, princess. You try cinchin' up this ornery corset and un-shuckin' 25 layers of petticoats, damn it," He could hear fabric rustling behind the curtain. The frock was placed on a hanger and hung on a rack next to the curtain.
He scowled and glared at the private dressing screen.
"You also need a bath. You smell like a horse's ass."
He just grinned at the ceiling, "You're talkin' like I'm meant to be all-overish and offended."
As if on cue, every ache and misery from the long trail rode up in his bones, complaining louder than a hungry coyote. "Chaos, a hot bath'd be heavenly."
Knowing Rouge, she was staying at the local fancy hotel and her room had a chaste or a couch, even a cushioned chair. The thought of a hot bath and not sleeping on the ground almost made the man weep in joy.
She sauntered out in her bloomers and blush pink laced corset while adjusting pins that held up her shoulder length hair. Her already full breasts looked like they were about to burst out of the top.
He quickly averted his eyes, Dammit, I wished she wouldn't do that.
"Oh, don't be so modest, Shadzee. It's nothin' you haven't laid eyes on before." She raised an eyebrow while she gave him a knowing look and shit-eating grin.
He felt his cheeks go warm and snarled. "I reckon you seduced me that ONE TIME. Besides, that was a whole herd of time ago."
"And stop callin' me that. You know I hate that name." He added as he scrunched up his nose.
"I hardly seduced you, darlin'. Both of us had our first taste of the hard stuff, and it hit us between the eyes right quick...heh, you were so nervous..." She mumbled the tail end of that phrase to herself and offered a crooked grin, settling back in front of the looking glass, "Besides, we shared a room many times. You've seen me plenty this way."
He huffed sharper than he had intended and glared at her, "Don't say it like it's some sort of scandal, woman! I never shared your bed and I gave you privacy to change or at the very least turned my back when you wouldn't bother with the damn changing curtain like I plumb asked you to."
She rolled her eyes, "Chaos, you are so dramatic. If it bothers you that much, go wait outside!"
"Fine!" He grumbled more colorful words as he stomped out of the room. And before he slammed her door, he shouted over his shoulder:
"AND YOUR WELCOME, DAMMIT!"
A warm smile slowly spread across her peach muzzle as she looked at the fragile gift he left.
Spring's done sprung up early if wild lupines are showing their colors, she reckoned to herself. He went and gathered 'em, tying the posy up with whatever he had, just for little ol' me.
With delicate fingers, she picked up the fresh bouquet of lovely blooms and pressed the soft petals to her nose to inhale their light sweet fragrance. "You're a big softie, dear brother."
Grumblin' and stompin' his way into the saloon, Shadow looked ready to wake snakes and cause trouble.
Next to the bar, a spiny lizard made the poor decision to dare eye contact with the ebony hedgehog. Shadow snarled loudly, his lips peeled back to reveal sharp fangs; as if the polecat's very existence infuriated him so. The roughly-scaled man yelped and cowered closer to the edge of the bar counter.
Folks generally took to his sharp-edged demeanor and heavy presence in various ways. Most gave him a wide berth, their eyes full of fearful wonder. Others watched from a distance, curious...cautious. And a few tipped their hats in respect.
Across the room, he saw two fancy does with their older buck escorts standing together in the boisterous game area. The does were sharing secrets and carrying on right spirited when they stopped their jawing to eye the handsome renegade across the room.
The bucks took notice of their female companions' gappin' at the dark drifter. They fussed with their suits and adjusted their top hats between their antlers like peacocks. White tails stood stiffly erect and alert.
Deciding on a whim to make the pompous asses squirm for his own amusement, he eased up on his gait, locked eyes with the ladies, a black-gloved hand touching the brim of his felt in a slow nod.
One of the ladies let out a quick 'oh my', fluttering her fan fast as he held their flustered gazes with his intense red embers.
The other doe trailed her gloved fingers along the edge of her beaded toggery, tolling his gaze toward the fast-heaving bosom swellin' above her corset.
Fire in the hole, he thought as he shot the fancy calicos a wolfish grin and watched them sink like ships swept away by the tides of their own sinful lust. He slipped a gander over to catch the bucks flatten their ears in offense and glared back at him.
Fuck you, yellow-bellied assholes.
Mission accomplished, his face returns to his normal scowl as he exited the saloon.
✦ ✧ ◇ ✧ ✦
Some time later, Rouge finally stepped out of the smoke-filled gin mill and breathed in the cold fresh air. It felt good to clear the lungs. Fussing with her coat arms, she turned to search the porch for her two red-eyed scoundrels.
Omega's massive sorrel-colored frame had quite an intimidating presence, but it was a quandary how his tiny waist and short, stocky legs were able to keep his upper body from tipping over every time he stood.
He was propped up against one of the porch wooden posts as he smoked a cigar, hands stuffed into his pockets. His gold nose ring shined in the evening light when the bull's large nostrils twitched.
Her part-time bodyguard and companion's garments had seen better days.
His red jacket was almost too small for his broad shoulders and hung over a pair of faded black trousers. A crimson omega symbol was stitched into each of his black lapels. The top two buttons of his light-gray shirt were long gone, leaving his broad, muscular chest exposed beneath a scruffy, square-cut chin.
Frayed gray gloves hid just under the jacket cuffs and wide golden bracelets adorned with sharp silver studs. The dark gray waistcoat or vest had a permanent indent of a round tobacco tin in his right vest pocket.
And of course, Omega reckoned his long, broad hooves served him just fine. No boots required.
Next to him, Shadow rocked in a wooden chair with his dusty boots resting on the handrail, busy sharpening his Bowie knife and chewing on a random piece of hay.
His rigging was a story in and of itself.
One day when they were hittin' the trail together, Rouge saw the suit and was determined to get that rigging permanently glued onto the hedgehog's body as if it was her destiny.
A black pinstriped vest covered a dark gray shirt with a bronze star brooch pinned just below where his chest fur peeked out. To tie the whole ensemble together, his long black suit jacket with a wide tail vent in the back and bright red lapel had a hand stitched flame pattern tastefully placed on his lapel and shoulders.
All done up in his best bib and tucker to showcase a chest like a bull and a waist slim as a snake. Not to mention, those matching britches sat snug as a coat of paint on a fence post. To say she was proud as a peacock for hookin' a suit of this caliber was an understatement.
If her best friend is going to be plastered on every wanted poster across the New Frontier, at least he'll be looking dressed to the nines while he's at it.
The hat was a complete accident. The black leather flashing a sharp stitched pattern in the front, wrapped with a nickel studded band was awarded to Shadow after a particular stand off.
Finders keepers.
Rouge flexed her wings wide causing the black leathery surface to reflect a purplish shine before tucking them neatly against the back of the fuchsia-colored satin frock with turquoise trim and ruffles. The bottom wing edge was pressed along the gentle curve of the bustle, and the whole ensemble made her own blue-green eyes spark like jewels.
She adjusted her petite matching top hat with a trailing veil between her large white ears as she stepped towards the porch stairway. She made eye contact with them both and waited for a moment. When neither of them moved, she rolled her eyes. Gathering her skirt and bracing her frilly parasol for balance, her high heeled boots gingerly touched each stair as she went down the wooden steps. You'd think one of THEM would offer her an arm like a gentleman, she thought as she let out a huff.
Damn outlaws.
She cleared her throat loudly, not bothering to hide the indignant tone in her voice, "Stop dilly dallying boys, the boarding house won't keep them biscuits warm all night, and momma craves sustenance."
The two men just looked at each other all aghast-like. The crotchety black one hollered as he leaped over the porch railing, "Woman, don't bark at a knot! You took too long, and now you're telling us to get a wiggle on?"
She didn't give them a glance nor a reply. To make herself plain as day, she simply grinned all high-and-mighty like and gave her wings a tight flick. With her head held high, she sauntered her way down the dusty road towards the blue and white building with a sign spelling out B&B Hotel.
✦ ✧ ◇ ✧ ✦
The dining hall was decked out in tan and gold wallpaper, shadowed by thick green window drapes, with a pile of hunting trophies and varmint heads stuck between big-as-life oil paintings.
Ornate pieces of furniture in the room were scattered. White cloth covered tables filled in the space between the walls, furniture, and bar. Dainty iron lanterns made a warm glow, spotlighting tables directly underneath.
The warp-around bar was situated in the center of the room with openings on two corners for hash slingers to come and go. A tidy layout of stogies were arranged near the doorway, tempting the fellers to snag a smoke upon skedaddling.
After their finished plates were gathered, Shadow plucked some coffee beans out of a mug and tossed them into his mouth. He always enjoyed requesting his favorite snack from servers and watching them become baffled with such a strange request.
He lost a bet with Rouge once and she dared him to eat the headmistress' precious coffee beans. At first, the bitter flavor seemed overwhelming and the crunchy bits stuck everywhere in his teeth.
Then, he tried it again. And soon, he craved the crunch, the rich taste, and shot of adrenaline. And the rest was history.
He tapped his finger on the table surface as he considered her, "Did they tell you which boxcar was the safe house?"
"You're better acquainted than me, it's usually somewhere behind the hog." She broke into a sly grin before she sipped her tea, pinkie-lifting all high-falutin like. Her sarcasm didn't go unnoticed by her fellas.
"And YOU know better – 'tis best to secure the straight goods when you can lay hands on 'em," he threw back as he glared at her.
She took her time enjoying the flavor of her mud water, "Shadow, tis not going to be in a safe but on a person. Handcuffed. And guarded. Heavily being such a valuable relic from Sol Del Sur."
"This is going to be a hard row to hoe with only three owlhoots."
"Mighty glad there's going to be more than just this trio..."
"Come again?"
His frown deepened and ear tuffs were sharply pointed backward, Rouge knows they reckon three's the limit – keeps the mess small and the spoils to themselves. What in the hell is she jawin' about?
"Oh, riiiight," she drawled. "By the way, we need to gather your band of cahoots."
A faint, knowing smirk sat on her face, like a cat that'd just swallowed the canary. She leaned in close toward the table, the overhead light casting a glow across her curved features.
"And a few more... tiny... shifts in the trail..." With her elbow on the wood and her chin rested, she batted her eyes at him, waiting for him to open his bazoo.
Instead, he pressed his lips together, fixed her with a hard, unwavering stare, and chawed in silence while he waited for her to spit out the rest of the tale.
After three nights without a wink and riding hard often day and night, his fuse was short and he refused to back down.
He knew her favorite pastime of 100 questions, rather than just making it short, slick, and to the point.
Their silent battle of wills, with neither of them looking to budge. Truth be told, his body acted contrary to his stubbornness, making his eyelids heavy as lead.
But, he'd be damned if he'd give into her charades.
She tried to give him one final chance to respond by fiddling with her gloves. But, when she snuck a peek back at him, she saw his right eye a-twitchin' somethin' fierce—desperate, sure, but he was holdin' fast against the weariness, refusing to break. She snorted at his expense.
"The package ain't takin' the straight route from Green Hills to Saltbush City by the coast, it's layin' over here for a visit."
He couldn't help blinking like a stuck shutter in the wind, trying to get his mind to sit straight about what she said.
"Rouge, that's nothin' like we talked about 'fore."
"It sure as hell ain't. Works out even finer, givin' us the chance to measure the trouble we're facin' 'fore we go tearin' tail down the tracks."
He knew she was barking up the right tree, but he wasn't fixing to let her have the satisfaction of knowing he thought so. Instead, he ran his fingers through his quills in efforts to distract himself, while casting his eyes about the room, keen for suspicious galoots.
Next to him, Omega sat content in his chair with his hands folded over a belly full of grub, watching his two best trail-mates carried on with their typical ornery bickering and jaw-jacking.
Paying the chatter no mind, the big hoss reached down to grab one of his many guns and commenced to unspool lead from the cylinder, laying them flat on the table.
"OMEGA!" Shadow and Rouge shouted in unison.
Furrowing his wiry brows and scowling, the bull reloaded his lead with a loud snort through his round nostrils and set his piece back in its holster. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he eyed them both like bad eggs with his orange-red fiery orbs.
He never gave a hoot for nobody's opinion if he just started polishing his hardware in plain sight of the townfolk. There was rarely a table in the rooms he stayed in and let alone, barely big enough to hold a shot of bourbon.
And he despised scouring his irons on fresh linens.
Rouge used Omega's silent conniption fit as a distraction, turning ear towards surrounding gab to make sure folks were too busy to hear what they were jawing on about.
Benefits of being a bat.
Shadow slowly leaned back in his chair, one ear twitching, while swirling his glass of whiskey. The liquid churned like his thoughts in his mind.
"Anything else, Her Majesty of Constantly Changin' Notions?"
"Why yes, as a matter of fact, there is..." She completely ignored his poke at her as she smoothed a fold in her satin dress. "When the package is on the move, there are two people we need to handle, not just one."
His glare returned at her, sharp as a drawn blade, and scowled. The emerald would have an entire militia around it, what is she jabbering about one or two people?
This time Rouge didn't wait for him to respond, "The handler and the key holder."
The quilled hog kept his eyes fixed on her like she owed him money.
She tilted her head but the twinkle in her eye had disappeared, "the person carrying the package will be in one of the carriage cars, while the key holder will be stationed in a stock car... With his own set of guards."
Crimson eyes dropped down and stared sourly at the table like it deeply offended him, absorbing her words. Then, red embers looked up to meet turquoise gems but caught something he hadn't seen earlier —- hidden bags under her eyes.
She's not been slumberin' well again.
He slightly squinted his eyes, pivoting his ears forward slowly as he searched her face.
That's not why she's losing sleep.
There's something else.
For a moment, it was as if they were communicating to each other silently. The way only two people could have been through hell and back together several times.
Then, it hit him square between the eyes and gave her an exasperated look.
"Holy Gaia," he growled low through his teeth. "Please say you're jokin'."
She pressed her lips together into a thin line and slightly furrowed her thin eyebrows. The playful gleam in her eyes was gone. He scrunched his face, flattened his ears, and threw his head back while he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Omega?"
The bull just shrugged and briefly let his imposing, deep baritone slip through—polished wood layered over steel. "Negative."
The striped gunslinger let fly a muttering cloudburst of salty words.
She let the dust settle and then said, "Why ya think you ran into the damn asshole the other night?"
Still staring at the ceiling, Shadow slowly closed his eyes connecting the dots.
He needed a smoke.
His ears still pressed against his head, he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a quirly. Without prompting, Omega flipped open a bronze lighter to light it for him. Shadow nodded a thank you and took a long slow drag and even slower exhale.
Then, he passed it to the towering bull so he could take a drag. Before he could return it to Shadow, Rouge snatched it out of Omega's mouth.
"Hmph", the ebony hedgehog paused, reaching for the quirly when she was done with it. He slowly licked his dry lips as he struggled to verbalize his clarity.
"So, that good-for-nothing, piece of horse shit and his goons weren't huntin' me." He glared intensely in Rouge's direction. "He was on his way to apprehendin' the package or at the very least roundin' to do so."
"I'm plumb sure of it," she made an emotionless expression. She knew his rage wasn't at her, but with the situation which just got complicated as hell.
That's why she was all fired up when I said I double backed to shake off any bugs, he thought to himself, It all makes sense now.
Then, his face deadpanned and stared at her, "You still aimin' to stay the course."
"Even more so."
He squinted at her as his handmade cigarette hung loosely between his lips.
She kept a sharp ear to the room, then gave her flummoxed companion a mischievous look spread wide as a canyon across her muzzle. "Simple as pie. We rustle the goods, and let Infinite's outfit take the blame. You know his way of workin'—they do all the heavy liftin', and we don't have to do much more'n spit."
"Fuck, Rouge. Anything can happen with them. Infinite's boys are a few bricks shy of a load." His voice muffled as he tried to speak and hold the quirly in his mouth.
Like a striking snake, she snatched back the quirly and sat up proud as a peacock on Sunday. "That's what roundin' our little friends' is for, genius. All those fuckers' be spinnin' before they even knew what slapped 'em. And YOU might even have a little fun....we all will."
Omega dropped his gloved hand onto the table, making a sound similar to a giant log hitting the floor, making Rouge about jump clean out of her skin, "About time! Gaia, I'been dying of boredom. I need destruction."
Rouge gave the bull a slow painful stare, pulling her wide ears back. It was Shadow's turn to smirk.
She chose to ignore Omega's outburst and turned her nose up and back straight as a board, "And let's get one thing straight as a gun barrel, there will be no fucking Rouge tonight."
Omega made a sound between a snort and a chuckle.
Shadow tilted his head, "Mighty salty words comin' from a lady who's supposed to be refined as silk."
"Refined, my ass. But yes, a genuine woman of the manor. And this here lady does have standards." She held the quirly between her feminine fingers and squared her shoulders as if to prove her point. And then finished his smoke.
"Hmph. Standards looser than a saloon door then." the square-jawed rogue mumbled. This time, the towering bull let out a loud laugh from his gut. The pretty bat kicked each of them under the table hard enough to make them both hiss through their teeth.
Then, she pressed a curl under her ear as if nothing happened. "Oh, and the package has already touched down and 'll be sittin' tight till the next iron horse pulls in—which ain't for another week or thereabouts."
"Gawd dammit, Rouge..."
"Stop your belly-achin', that's plenty of time to round those whose word can be trusted and who can improvise if things go south."
Shadow scoffed louder than he intended, "What planet are you circlin', thinkin' a week's grace is enough to round up the posse and gallop back here 'fore the sun sets on it?"
"'Cause I already got a bead on where some of 'em are holed up, darlin'. And they're cuttin' it a heap closer than you reckon."
Shadow squinted at her, "They ain't gonna lift a finger for charity."
"Tell them they'll have a whole train full of green-bellies easy for sticking up. Plus, Dells Largo Bank will take advantage of the extra security and have plenty of transactions sittin' in the safe car. I know at least one of your allies is a wiz with locks. Reckon, not as good as me."
He huffed as downed the last of his whiskey and made a noisy satisfied noise. "Supposin' I'm the only one to ride back in?"
"The more for us," She said.
"Hmph."
He paused and considered her. Then he said, "I get Omega back."
The lady in pink loudly gasped and squinted at the black and red hedgehog, "Hold your tongue! You're not gettin' to call dibs yet! I still need him!"
Omega's stoic expression broke as his low hanging ears perked up slightly and his eyes hopeful. He loved when they fought over him.
Shadow leaned towards her, enunciating his words as if she was hard of hearing just to irritate her, "TIS BET-TER if I had HIM along whilst I rally the outfit. They're familiar with his hide, after all."
Rouge glared daggers at her dark companion, "That's hogwash and you know it. You don't need him to gentle your allies into line. He's my bodyguard 'til I decide he's done."
Omega scowled.
"That's just as much hogwash because you don't need a bodyguard." The quilled outlaw sneered.
"Tsk... 'Course, I can handle myself just fine. Still, a proper lady's supposed to have herself an escort ridin' beside her."
"Are we goin' down this road again?"
She rolled her eyes, but composed herself lowering her voice, "I got to keep my ruse up, lest the whole deck comes tumblin' down, Shadow. Folks'll start smellin' a rat if I show up lonesome, 'specially since I'm keepin' company with the upper-ten. When the dust settles on this haul, you two can trail-off together into the dyin' light, sparkin' all the way."
He squinted at her intensely with his lips pressed in a thin line. Then said, "Damn woman....fine."
She blew him a kiss, "Love you too, precious."
He scoffed his irritation and sneered again.
"Hmph."
Omega snorted his disappointment through his large nostrils.
"You too, ya big lug."
Looking away to keep his cards close to his vest, Omega tried his best to not to let on how much it meant that she'd vouched for his hide, but his tail wag betrayed him.
Shadow grumbled as he frowned at the empty glass in his black glove. "Hmph, so much for Teaspoon catching his wind. I gotta high-tail it with him across the whole of the New Frontier..."
He thrashed his limbs about like a man fightin' off a swarm of hornets, all while he caterwauled his grievances but she was not fooled. Rouge knew Shadow was at his limit. She caught him right as he was havin' a tussle with the sandman, findin' it a chore to keep his peepers from shutterin' down.
Collecting her parasol and handbag, she gracefully stood up from the table and adjusted her skirt.
"Tsk. You and your naggin' horse drama. Just hitch up a fresh mount and be done with it. What's the big foofarah?"
Shadow slow-turned his head as the shadows crossed his face, measurin' her with a look that was colder'n a winter creek. She didn't flinch and just gave him a deadpanned look.
Across the table, Omega's furry eyebrows lifted high, half hopeful the outlaw to make a scene with his angry outbursts.
You don't insult a man's horse, let alone Shadow's.
Then, Shadow rose up slow as molasses, seated his Stetson firm on his head, and crowded her space—makin' it plain as day he was done talking.
"NO."
Without being prompted, he straightened his posture and offered his arm, but kept looking cross at her.
Rouge seductively slowly wrapped her hand around it, feeling the fabric of his jacket arm tighten as he flexed his bicep.
With her high heeled boots, she still couldn't stand eye to eye with the uncommonly tall hedgehog. She openly searched his face, fluttered her long lashes, and smiled mischievously.
Knowing this rused routine of theirs, he dropped the glare and lifted an eyebrow with a sultry half-lidded look, while curving the one side of his lips upwards.
As she pulled him past the hotel front desk, she gave a knowing wink to the zebra-tailed lizard in his pressed black and white suit behind the desk, signaling to him that the handsome hedgehog was with her. The clerk simply nodded his head in understanding.
Rouge spoke with authority over her shoulder, "See to it there's a hot soak waitin' for me when the sun peeks o'er the ridge. "
"Of course, my lady." The lizard clerk replied as he turned to jot down some notes on a small booklet.
Omega followed a few paces behind the pair, unphased by them acting overly lovestruck with each other, full of giggles and hand caressing. Shadow gave him a casual wave when Omega snorted at them and then entered his room on the first floor.
Rouge's room on the second floor was as Shadow expected. Full of lavish comforts and an iron fireplace already warming the room. The wallpaper with a french "toile de jouy" repeated pattern that covered all four walls in tan and black colors. Several bronze hooks were attached for placing traps and tricks.
The gold-plated four post bed was big enough for two with gray and peach pin-striped comforter and matching pillows. A porcelain and a washstand with a chamber pot inside was in one corner with a fancy vanity and a wooden hand carved dresser in another.
Then, he saw it. A red and cream velvet chaste waiting near the window with a big plush pillow calling his name.
The white bat went straight to her tall tan-colored wardrobe trunk that stood next to the vanity and opened it with a key. She placed her handbag in a compartment inside the trunk and leaned the parasol on the wall as she sat in front of the vanity.
"I reckon that Sol Emerald itself'll be watched over by three or four heavies. The key handler'll have at least two, maybe more. Seein' as the next hitch is Saltbush City, and that's a prime seaport town with plenty of traffic... the carriages will be plumb full..." she continued to talk about the port city as she began removing her jewelry and her hat.
Losing interest in her words, Shadow simply hummed at her occasionally as he removed his gun holsters, colts, bowie knife sheath with knife inside, shoulder strap holding his short double barrel, and bullet belt. He flopped himself onto the chaste, and a soft whimper in utter joy escaped his lungs as his backside sank into the plush furnishings.
"Shadow, are you listenin'?"
"Hangin' on your every word, darlin'," he said, not masking that his voice dropped an octave as he relaxed for the first time in weeks.
He crossed his arms over his chest at the same time he crossed his boots that were hanging off the edge of the chaste. His crimson eyes glanced at her lazily as his hat naturally tipped down as he tucked his chin into his chest fur.
Rouge raised her eyebrow but continued anyways about her first experiences in Saltbush City. Talk of a chuck-house and some fine fettle... or was it a tasty-lookin' gent. Either way, the details of her jabbering became white noise as he slowly closed his already heavy eyelids and softly sighed through his nose.
"... Fabric had the kind of stitchery that looks like it took a month of Sundays to finish and was as smooth as butter on a warm biscuit..." the bat was suddenly interrupted by a low snore coming from the other side of the room.
She turned to see him passed out on the chaste still with his boots and gloves on, hat covering his eyes. She stared at him for a moment and shook her head endearingly. She quietly got off her seat and grabbed a blanket hanging over the blanket rack.
"You're plumb beyond hope, sure as a cow in a bog," She whispered as she lovingly covered him with the blanket, careful to not wake the bastard. She watched him as he began purring in between deep breaths, as if in response to her simple gesture.
She sighed, "Sweet dreams, Handsome."
✦ ✧ ◇ ✧ ✦
The white bat was jolted out of deep slumber when she heard someone knock on the door. She poked one eye out from the cocoon of her wings.
Bath time.
When her nerves are frazzled or the night terrors keep her from a decent shut-eye, she finds more comfort in sleeping the old-fashioned way – hanging upside down from the ceiling. She'd been fretting fit to bust these last few nights. She reckoned it was time for the wing cocoon.
Truth be told, she slumbered deeper knowing Shadow was close at hand. His presence calmed her nerves, but she'd take that truth to boot hill before she ever breathed a word of it.
At some point in the night, he must've woken to find her in her cocoon because there he was, spread-eagle on top of the quilts like a five-pointed star. Fella must've been plum scorched, because he was lying belly-down, wearing naught but his britches.
His discarded duds were tossed over the wall hooks helter-skelter, but his boots were lined up pristine-like on the side of the bed. A childhood habit neither of them could break.
Perfect.
The sleepy bat stretched her wings as she yawned and heard the second set of knocks as she quietly touched her toes onto the floor. She wrapped herself in her silk robe and shuffled towards the door. Instinctively, she reached for her knife she placed on the nearby bureau, before slipping the bolt and taking a squint outside.
Upon seeing a young wasp in her black and white ruffled maid outfit, Rouge casually placed the sticker back on the bureau, and then with a sly grin, flung the door open theatrically.
The poor dear gasped and buzzed back a little in response to the bat's dramatic greeting, before thinking better of it. Her wide eyes wandered a moment and landed on Shadow sprawled on the bed. Her cheeks went red as if she was scandalously caught with a half naked man and not the woman in front of her.
Rouge leaned lazily on the door and gazed upon the maid through her long lashes, emphasizing the drawl on her tongue, "My my, sweet darr-lin', is everything al-right?"
The dainty wasp with the almond shaped blue eyes quickly composed herself and gracefully folded all four of her hands in front of her while bowing her head, "B-beggin' your pardon, ma-ma'am, but your... soakin' tub is all fixed up for ya. Right behind door number ...two...twenty five."
"Much obliged, sugar. Is that the whole of it?"
"The...the towels are all folded up neat-like right 'side the tub. Just give that servant's bell a jingle once you've finished your bath."
"Alright then — Off you go."
"Much obliged, ma'am." The young wasp did a quick curtsy before hustling down the hall. It didn't go unnoticed how the girl slipped one last glance at Shadow before she picked up her skirt to leave.
For a long stretch back when they were just younglings, the devilishly handsome hedgehog didn't have the foggiest notion how he was stirring up every female within a country mile. He reckoned all that female fussin' was nothin' but a bother and a muddle, so Rouge took it upon herself to keep the wool pulled over his eyes for as long as she could manage.
It was better for him to stay prickly as a cactus and hard to get near, lest his tender heart be discovered and used against him.
It was hard enough youngsters were sent out or sold to work long hours doing grueling hard labor or worse by the orphanage warden. Getting thrashed, used ill, and kept on short rations by the elders running them outfits—all just to break a youngster for steppin' out of line, or simply because they had a mean streak a mile wide. That's how Rouge landed herself at Shadow's youngun-corral, she was 'too wild to break' back at the first one she was at.
She shuttered just thinking of the horrors of that previous place they penned her up in. What the elders didn't reckon was they actually did her a mighty big favor.
And what's more, she found Shadow, and that was the finest stroke of luck of the lot.
To survive, young'uns ended up preying upon each other. Bullying, fighting, stealing or whatever they could with one another like a pack of mangy dogs in a pile of garbage. However, some formed their own kind of posses to look out for one another.
So, it was best for both Shadow and Rouge to keep their tough-as-boiled-leather hides and sharp edges intact as they could manage.
She closed the door with a click and stood lost in thought. A rich sultry voice still full of sleep drifted over to her ears.
"Do I get a piece of that bath or are you fixin' to hoard the whole tub to yourself?"
She just grinned, "Oh it's definitely for me, darlin'. But not to worry, I'll give you a bucket and a cloth."
"Hmph."
✦ ✧ ◇ ✧ ✦
Clic to see American Old West Terminology Glossary
| Old West Slang | Description; meaning |
| Adam's ale | creek water |
| bark at a knot | yell at us |
| barking up the right tree | had a point; was onto something; was right |
| bazoo | mouth/speaking |
| bellyaching | complaints |
| best bib and tucker | best suit |
| big hoss | big, strong fellow |
| biscuits warm | keep dinner warm and ready |
| blacklegs | gamblers |
| blanket of paper | small square of paper used for making cigarette |
| blinking like a stuck shutter in the wind | blinking rapidly |
| boarding house | hotel |
| boomtown | a town experiencing sudden, rapid growth, often due to a nearby mineral strike or other resource extremely valuable to the people |
| boot hill | grave |
| bootlickers | a person who behaves obsequiously to those in power |
| brazen as brass | boldly |
| briar | tobacco pipe |
| bring too much heat | brings too much attention to yourself |
| britches | pants |
| bureau | piece of furniture with drawers; dresser |
| burg | town or small city |
| burnin' daylight all night | traveled all night |
| carmine | common 19th-century term for red lipstick/rouge |
| carrying on right spirited | chatting animatedly |
| catch forty winks | take a nap |
| catching his wind | catch a break |
| cattywampus | wrinkled, crooked or askew |
| cavallard | a caravan of wagons/horses |
| chawed | held his silence |
| chore to keep his peepers from shuttin' down | hard time keep his eyes open |
| chuck-house | place where people can go to get a meal; resturant |
| cinching | wearing |
| colder'n a winter creek | intense glare |
| collared | arrested; cuffed to be arrested |
| cool his throat | for a drink; take a drink; wet the whistle; |
| cow in a bog | hopeless - cows have short legs and can't get out of situations where they need to jump out, climb out, be pulled out; get stuck quickly in a boggy environment; are a hopeless cause to rescue |
| cowpoke | cattle men, cowboys actively working the herd |
| cribs | saloons or homes |
| doggin' em to their next stop | following him to their next destination |
| dough and rocks | money |
| drifter | gypsy, free spirit, traveler |
| duds | suit, clothes |
| dust settles on this haul | when this job is done |
| eye | look |
| eyed them both like bad eggs | glared angrily |
| Faro | common card game often played in the American Old West |
| fever pitch | boiling point |
| fine fettle | delicious food |
| fixing | "about to," "preparing to," or "intending to" do something |
| fodder | hay |
| folks'll start smellin' a rat | folks that are suspicious |
| fore | before |
| frazzled | anxious |
| galoot |
onlooker; foolish people |
| gander | looked |
| gapping | eyeballing, gawking |
| gent | gentleman |
| get a bead | understand, know |
| get his mind to sit straight | think clearly |
| gin mill | saloon |
| going to be a hard row to hoe | going to be difficult |
| greenhorn | an inexperienced newcomer, novice, or rookie |
| hard row to hoe | referring to a farmer working the hoe a field RE one person with a hoe tool and using it to cut down hay; very hard task; took long and hard work; going to be difficult |
| hash slingers | food servers, waiters |
| He thrashed his limbs about like a man fightin' off a swarm of hornets, all while he caterwauled his grievances | He flayed his arms around dramatically while he griped |
| heavies | guards, hired men, soldiers |
| heist | plan to steal something |
| helter skelter | half hazardly |
| herd without a cow | a herd of cows without cowboys/hands to protect them are easy to steal, prey upon, or get injured |
| high-falutin' folk | fancy, pretentious people |
| high-tail it | run |
| his cards close to his vest | hidding his true feelings |
| hitch up a fresh mount | saddle up/get a horse that has been rested and well fed and watered |
| hither | come over here |
| hog | train engine |
| holed up | hiding |
| hot as a tin roof | sweltering |
| hot soak | bath |
| house assembly | audience |
| iron horse | train; rattler |
| jawing | talking |
| jaw-jacking | arguing |
| lackeys | servile follower, toady who performs menial tasks, runs errands, or acts with unquestioning obedience to a superior, often in hopes of gaining advantage |
| law look at you sideways | law makers become suspicious |
| lest the whole deck comes tumblin' down | or else she will be caught |
| lightened leathers when absolutely called for | remove money out of leather wallets; pickpocketed when necessary |
| like a cat that had just swallowed the canary | knows something the other doesn't; holding back a secret |
| like a cornered jackrabbit's nose | jittery; nervously |
| lit the town | settled or moved into town; attracted to the town |
| low-down jasper | being a vile, rough man, brute |
| mean streak a mile wide | very very mean; cruel |
| measure the trouble we're facin' 'fore | give us a sense of what we are up against even before |
| moseyed | moved; sauntered; walked |
| my ruse | my cover; hidden identity |
| naggin' | whining |
| noggin | head; skull |
| noshed | munched lazily |
| old hoss rode off into the sunset in Shadow's arms | The old man died in Shadow's arms |
| on the trail | out of his travels |
| ornery corset | ridiculous corset |
| outfitters | businesses or stores |
| owlhoot | thief |
| penned her up | placed her in |
| pickin' a scrap | picking a fight, throwing down |
| plumb done in | exhausted |
| prickly as a cactus and hard to get near | unapproachable |
| quiet as a sage hen | silently |
| quirly | hand-rolled tobacco for smoking; handmade roll; handmade cigarette |
| raisin's cain | excitement |
| reckon | know |
| reckonings | figure out or calculate his surroundings |
| renegade | outlaw |
| rigging | entire outfit |
| ring swap | thieving mobian money re rings |
| rip-snortin' | bustling, active, full of life |
| ropers | cowboy boots |
| rouge visage | handsome features |
| ruse | cover; hidden identity; con artist |
| rustle | gather or take up |
| saddle tramp | traveling rider |
| safe house | train boxcar that held money, gold, important things |
| salty words | strong cursing or language |
| scarlet ladies | prostitutes; soiled doves |
| school of hard knocks | taught him how to survive |
| shack | another term for a horse stall |
| sharing secrets | whispering |
| sharpie | a clever, deceitful operator, cheater |
| shindigs and hoooch | parties and alcohol; merriment |
| shining | interest of something |
| show up lonesome | arrive alone; without a escort |
| sidewinder | a sneaky, untrustworthy, or dangerous person; can be also used as an outlaw term |
| skedaddle | get away |
| slow-witted enough | stupid enough |
| someone's outfit | someone's group or gang |
| spread your risk | place your eggs in as many baskets as you can |
| stake at the game tables | won money playing card games |
| Stetson | cowboy hat |
| swad | a large crowd |
| tarnation | general exclamation of frustration |
| tearin' tail down the tracks | high tail it down the train tracks |
| the sun peeks o'er the ridge | sunrise |
| they do all the heavy liftin', and we don't have to much more'n spit | they do all the work and we barely have to lift a finger |
| toggery | bodice of the dress |
| tolling his gauze toward the fast-heaving bosom swellin' abover her corset | drawing his attention to her breast swelling/breathing about her corset |
| trail rigging | travel belongings attached to the saddle in the back |
| trained him up | taught him |
| traps and tricks | personables; personal effects; personal items |
| trinkets | earrings from her ears; jewelry |
| truth be told | unfortunately |
| tussle with the sandman | struggling to stay awake |
| un-shuckin' | undress |
| upper-ten | high society; the rich; fancy, pretentious people |
| vaqueros | outlaws |
| vouched for his hide | appreciated him |
| wagged his finger | signaled |
| wasn't fixing to let her have the satisifaction | wasn't about to giver her that moment of credit |
| way of lead slinging | how to shoot |
| wearing naught but his britches | wearing just his pants; shirtless |
| whistle-stop | train stop |
| whole jamboree | crowd |
| wiggle on | hurry up |
| without a wink | sleepless |
|
works out even finer yellow-bellied |
works even better coward |
| young'uns | children; child; youngster; nipper |
| your highney | your highness |