"What's this?" Eunice leaned on her elbow at the table, picking up parts one by one as Jude cleaned her guns.

"That's the cylinder." Jude took the piece, brushing it briskly. She loved the smell of gun oil...

"Oh. And this?" Her lover pointed.

"The loading lever."

"This thingy?"

"Latch pin."

"These little doodads?"

"Those are the nipples."

Eunice giggled. "I like your nipples."

Jude smirked, dropping her brush for the moment. "Why are you like this?"

"What's this?"

"The hammer."

"That's how you cock it."

"Yep."

A chuckle. "Cock."

"I'm gonna wash yar mouth out with soap."

"My mouth is squeaky clean, thank you."

"The Hell it is. Here. I'll show ya how to put this back togethah."

"When do we put us back together?" Eunice ran a stockinged foot up Jude's boot.

"Yar some kinda damn succubus," Jude grumbled.

"Can we go out?" Eunice asked. "Now that I'm a free woman?"

"Where ya wanna go?"

A shrug. "I don't know. I don't even care. I just wanna walk around town with a tall sexy gunslinger."

"Well, when I find one of those I'll let ya know." Jude spun a cylinder back into place. "Can ya shoot, Eunice?"

"No."

"Get dressed. We're goin' out."

The stables were clean and dark. Eunice smiled as she patted each horse face in turn, speaking to some of them familiarly. She'd pilfered some carrots from the kitchen and fed a few of the happy beasts.

Jude's horse was in the farthest stall. She was pleased to see he'd been brushed and from the looks of it - well fed. "Hello, friend," she greeted the stallion quietly. He bent his head for a stroke, and Eunice thrust a carrot into his mouth. "Don't spoil him!" Jude admonished jokingly.

"He loves it!" The horse grunted in agreement, chomping loudly. "He's huge," Eunice breathed.

"He's a big enough fella."

"What's his name?"

"Michael."

Eunice smirked while Jude saddled the stallion. "That's an awfully Biblical name from a woman who isn't a sister anymore."

"Made sense at the time."

"Are we going for a ride?"

"We are."

"Will we both fit on that saddle?" Eunice looked doubtful.

"No." Jude smiled behind her bandana. She turned and gestured to the full stalls. "Which one is yar favorite?" Eunice blinked. "It's yars. Whichevah one ya want. Part of my...deal."

"Mine?" At Jude's nod, Eunice gaped. "My own horse?"

"Yar own horse."

"Oh. My. God." There was purpose in the younger woman's step. She did have a favorite. Jude followed her, leading the pitch stallion in her wake. "This one. Her name is Josephine."

"She's a beauty." Josephine was a Palomino. Young. Still a filly at 14 hands high. Jude could see why Eunice liked the creature. It nuzzled her lovingly, batting those singular pale lashes. "Seems to have yar temperament." She pulled Josephine's saddle from the stall wall and set about readying her. "You do know how to ride, right?"

"Of course I do." Eunice looked down at herself. "Well...at least side saddle I do."

"We'll fix that latah." Jude patted the saddle. "Climb up."

They trotted out of town. Past the post office. Past the library. Past the dusty, sad farms and empty-eyed children. The Palomino kept up well enough for her size, spirited and obviously excited to be free of the stable. Just like Eunice, Jude supposed. The girl was all smiles, curls bouncing against her shoulders. Jude had bought her a tan duster at the mercantile, and she made a pretty picture on the similarly colored horse.

Near the cemetery, they stopped. "Why are we here?" Eunice asked, dismounting into Jude's waiting arms.

"Target practice." Jude gestured to the numerous scattered vases and bottles - forgotten offerings to the dead that once held the rare desert flower.

Eunice squealed excitement, reaching for the Smith and Wesson Jude pulled from her thigh holster. "I'm gonna shoot things!"

"Calm down, cowgirl!" Alone, away from prying eyes, Jude removed her bandana, revealed a happy smile. "We're gonna take this real slow."

"I love when we go real slow." Eunice slipped past the gun for a kiss.

"Ah-ah-ah." Jude pressed a finger to the plump pink lips. "I tell ya what." She pressed the gun into Eunice's wandering hand and turned her. Lips against the shell of Eunice's ear, she spoke. "Far every bottle you hit...I'll give ya a kiss."

"A long kiss?"

"Probably not."

"With tongues or without?"

"Jesus Christ, Eunice. Hold the damn gun up!" Laughing, Eunice raised the silver steel. It glinted in the sun. "Firm up yar stance." Jude adjusted elbows, nudged thighs apart. "Like this. Ya wanna have complete control over it."

"Jude," Eunice whispered.

"What?"

"This is so fucking hot."

Jude sighed. "Pull the hammer back, will ya? We're gonna aim far that green bottle over there." She pointed. "Now, when ya fire, it's gonna give ya a little kick back. Not a lot, but enough ta feel it. That's why ya wanna have a good, solid grip and a hard arm. Right?"

"Right."

"Take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

"Kay."

"Aim down the barrel until the bottle is centered in the sight. Got it?"

"I think I've got it." Eunice squinted one eye. "I'm ready."

"Then squeeze the triggah."

The Smith and Wesson wasn't quite as loud as the Colt, but it had a definite ring to it. Eunice squealed at the report, shoulders jolting when she fired. But she nailed the bottle - it shattered beautifully. Jude whistled. "Yar gonna be a force to be reckoned with."

"Beginner's luck?" Eunice's voice trembled. Her whole body shivered.

"Or yar just a Hell of a shot." Jude rubbed her student's arms through the duster. "You okay?"

Eunice turned her head and - as promised - accepted her kiss. A short one. No tongue. She hid her disappointment. "I wanna do it again."

"Empty the barrel, angel.Hit everything ya can. I'll teach ya ta re-load next." With the proper encouragement, Eunice was a deadeye.

They were eating hard boiled eggs and sandwiches in the shade of a massive saguaro when Eunice hesitantly broached her topic of interest. "Jude."

"Hm?"

"I wanna leave here."

"Course ya do."

"I want to go with you."

"That's the plan."

"Is it really?" She stared at a skittering lizard a few feet away, eyes daring to hope but not too hard.

"Eunice." Jude dusted crumbs from her breeches. "I have no intention of leaving you here in this hell hole."

"I thought...because of the horse and all that...that you were just going to sort of...free me. You know? Leave me to my own devices."

"Well." Jude looked away, too. Chewed on her lip. "Eunice. I think I need you."

"Need me?"

It wasn't exactly what the girl wanted to hear and Jude knew that. And need wasn't exactly the word that Jude wanted to say. But that other word was so difficult. So laced with risk. And the last time - in another life - that Jude had dared to utter the word had ended in naught but devastation for herself.

She wasn't ready for that word. And Eunice seemed somehow to understand. She laid her head on Jude's shoulder. "I think I need you, too."

"We're both fucked, then." They laughed, Eunice playfully punching Jude's thigh. "Hey."

"What?"

"Pull yar skirt up."

A scandalized hand flew to Eunice's chest. Not that she would refuse or remotely deny the desire. "Here? Now?"

"Yeah. C'mon."

Licking her lips eagerly, Eunice complied, even making a comfy little bivouak for herself out of her new duster. But... "Oh."

Jude chuckled after she strapped the holster to Eunice's thigh. "Sorry ta disappoint." She slipped the Smith & Wesson into place. Eunice flinched at the stroke of cold steel. "There."

"Is it mine now?"

"Yeah. Listen, Eunice. I may have gotten in some trouble with a couple locals. And I'm not worried about myself so much as I am you. So if anybody tries ta start any shit with you..."

"I don't know if I could shoot a person, Jude."

"You could if yar life was in danger. Or if they were threatening somethin' important to ya." Jude stroked a blonde curl from a worried face. "And yar a damn fine shot, so I know you wouldn't have ta worry about a fight."

"Maybe I could just maim somebody." Eunice flicked the safety on, looking at the shiny apparatus against her creamy thigh. "Like...I could shoot out his knee. Or his dick."

"Yar a savage." Jude smirked, standing. "Come on. Let's get back to tha saloon. And I'll make ya pull that skirt up far real." She replaced her bandana and they mounted their horses, riding off into the sunset.

But back at the saloon, there was trouble brewin'. Lulu rushed out to meet them at the watering trough. "Stranger. I told ya." She bustled up, taking no note of Eunice standing nearby. "The Johnson boys are here. All six of 'em including the sheriff. They been waitin' real impatiently almost two hours now ta meet ya."

"Patience is a virtue of kings, Lulu." Jude handed the madam two sets of reins. "Stable our horses."

"You're crazy, woman!" Lulu hissed secretively into Jude's ear. "Those fellas in there will take you out faster than -"

"Know what?" Jude cut her off, snatching the reins back. "Eunice, you stable Michael and Josephine. Feed 'em and brush 'em down."

"No!" Eunice thrust the reins back to Lulu. "I'm coming in there with you! I know how to shoot, Jude! You taught me. I'm not gonna let a bunch of hooligans ambush you and -"

"I don't wanna argue about this, Eunice." Jude's voice was tight.

So was Eunice's. "Me, either."

"Please." Jude tried reason this time, and gentleness. She caressed Eunice's shoulders. "Please, Eunice. Put the horses away. This might not even be anything dangerous. I just don't want all these men getting ideas or designs on you. Understand me?"

"But -"

"And...I need you. Right?"

Eunice's lips tightened. She wanted to argue. She watched the madam shift nervously from foot to foot. She watched Josephine's blonde tail flick at a yellow jacket. Finally, she let out a deep breath. "I understand."

"Thank you, angel." Jude handed her back the reins. "I promise ya everything will be fine." Even the madam smiled tightly at the girl. Eunice nodded, and the two women watched her disappear around the corner of the saloon. "Alright." Jude grinned behind the pitch bandana, mounting the steps. "Let's raise a little Hell."

Sheriff Jack Johnson didn't look anything like Jude expected. For one thing, he was rather short. At least five inches beneath her in bootheels. He also sported a thin, greasy moustache that nearly masked a scarred top lip. He turned from the bar when the madam bustled in ahead of Jude. "This is the son of a bitch that took out Lee?" He gestured to Jude. "What are you? The fuckin' midnight rider?" The five boys crowded behind him laughed heartily at the joke. "Skinniest bounty hunter I ever saw."

Jude only loosely called them boys. They stair-stepped in both height and age. The tallest one probably forty and the shortest one still a damn child. Although, from the look on his face, you'd think he was the only man in the room. She knew false bravado when she saw it.

"You speak, chicken shit?" Jack advanced a few steps, swinging his duster aside to reveal a gold sheriff's star on his vest. "You think you can just come in here and kill aman and take over his rightful and lawful business? It don't work that way.I'm the sheriff in this town, you kin? I'm the word and the fuckin' law!" He hurled his shot glass very suddenly at Jude's feet. It shattered, and patrons scattered, tables and chairs jarring noisily. When she didn't flinch, he took offense. "Goddamit, you take that tarp offa your face and look at me like a man when I kill you!" The five boys stepped out behind him, fanning into a support wave.

Jude was making calculations when she heard a gun draw.

Heard.

Her eyes tracked the source quickly - second one from the left. And almost before she thought the thought, her own piece was out. A shot exploded the tension in the air. There were screams as the building emptied.

And all Hell broke loose. Whores evacuated, taking to the stairs or the back door. Gamblers, prospectors, and all other manner of patron followed, or flooded over one another shoving and scrambling through the swinging doors. Their heavy steps clattered around the building and thudded into the streets.

But before that first Johnson hit the floor - a neat hole right in the center of his forehead - five other Johnsons drew guns.

Jude drew her other Colt, firing both as she spun across the room. She felt the heat of a shot zing past her ear and kicked over a table, crouching behind it. There was groaning and yelling, a sure sign she'd hit at least one more of them. The impact of a bullet hitting the table at her back reminded her they were still advancing.

She hooked a boot in the rungs of a nearby chair and kicked up blindly, sending the furnishing flying overhead. "Shit!" It hit a mark - a good distraction - and she leapt to her feet, one leg flipping the table onto its edge to give her a bird's eye view over the smoke. Her duster whirled around her as she emptied the two cylinders, quickly dropping them to draw another two. No time to reload.

She was down to three Johnsons now, one injured in his shoulder and limping for cover. The sheriff had unloaded, as well, it seemed, now pulling a rifle from his back. She barreled toward him before he could aim, managing to knock him onto his back only to feel strong hands wrestling at her arms.

Suddenly she was gripped by two lackeys - the middle boys, one of the weak from his wounds - both struggling to disarm her, both bloody with blood theirs or their comrades. "Gotcha now, fucker!" One exclaimed. She could smell his rotten breath.

"Looks that way, don't it?" She gritted her teeth against coming pain and simply fell backward, wrenching her arms and shoulders to bend, muscles burning, until the idiots crashed into one another. "But looks can be deceiving." She flipped the Colts clutched in her hands and pistol whipped the cowboys at the base of each thick skull. They crumpled to the floor - not quite unconscious, but grasping the backs of their heads and groaning.

Jack Johnson still stood, managing to level his shotgun now that he could get a bead on her. But not today.

She flipped the pistols again, firing into his gut with one and his shoulder with the other. His shotgun fired, and she felt the sting of scattered shot against her neck, but his aim was thrown too much to find a solid target. She watched him drop to his knees, hands at his wounded gut.

The room was a blur of smoke. It reeked of blood, gun powder, adrenaline and fear. Jude stepped over the lackeys, calmly taking them out with two clean headshots. Their incessant, irritating whines and groans immediately ceased. It was a mercy killing, she thought. They'd have awful headaches later...

"Well, Sheriff." She was winded, standing over the bleeding, writhing man. "Yar in quite a pickle, aren't ya?" Kneeling, she flicked his hat from his head. "Gut shots are the worst. But...I don't think you got any guts, anyway." He coughed blood. It spattered her boot. "Disgusting." She used his duster to wipe it clean. "I think we're done here."

Something dark swelled inside her. It always did at this moment: the moment when she pressed the barrel of the Colt to a sweating temple. The power tingled in her arm, down to her trigger finger. Her pulse hummed in her head, drowning out the report. This was a cleaner shot than Leigh Emerson had been. A nice round hole and a bullet that passed straight through tiny brain. Ridiculously, she hoped Lulu would be pleased there was less mess.

But then she stood and looked around.

Overturned tables. Broken chairs. A mess of glasses and shattered bottles. Five dead gunslingers in various spreading pools of filth. In the odd silence, she could hear liquor dripping onto the floor behind the bar. "Damn." She supposed there would be a mess to clean up, after all.

Wait.

She tensed, glaring. Five dead gunslingers. A quick assessment. Where was the child, then?

A thick sniffle behind the bar answered her question. Her spurs jingled as she made her way over, kicking or stepping on bodies. The boy cowered behind the bar, as far underneath it as he could squeeze.

"Look here, son." She crouched, used a Colt barrel to tilt his chin up. There was blood spatter on his face - not his, she imagined. "What'd you get yarself into today?"

"P-p-please..." He stammered. His hat fell over his eyes and he scrambled to shove it back.

His eyes were crystal blue. His plump bottom lip would have made a charming smile. But as it was, snot dripped from his nose into his mouth and those pretty blues were bloodshot from tears. "You pleadin' ta me? Or God, boy?"

"Y-you!"

"How old are ya?"

"T-t-t-twelve, sir!"

Jude scoffed, pulled the Colt out of the child's face. "Twelve." She repeated, standing. "Go home, boy. Pray ta God. And tell yar mama ya love her."

She turned to leave, but froze in her tracks when she saw the madam standing at the end of the bar. "Lulu." Jude holstered her guns. Lulu did not look happy.

"So, stranger." Her hands left her thick hips to gesture around the room. "Ya give me a bar just to shoot it the hell up and litter it with corpses? Who the fuck is gonna clean this mess up?"

There was a bottle of bourbon on its side - intact - spinning slowly. Jude picked it up. Flipped a shot glass. "Lulu. I apologize far -"

A sharp gasp from the madam caught her attention and she followed the woman's manic gaze. The boy stood now. She hadn't heard him rise. Hadn't heard him draw. Hadn't heard him breathe. And yet he pointed the barrel of a .45 right at her face. She could see straight into that barrel, and the blackness there was eternal.

Her hands flew to her Colts, mind refusing to accept she might die this instant. And the boy's finger was already squeezing the trigger. But a shot rang before Jude's fingers even hit her hilts.

Her eyes squeezed shut. She heard a thump. Lulu screamed. But Jude was still breathing. When she opened her eyes, the boy was gone. He lay at her feet, most definitely dead, head a mess. Strangely, his too big hat still clung to the shard of bone and scalp remaining. But the crystal blue eyes and plump lip were gone for good. She wondered if he'd prayed...

A sob broke the spell and Jude turned to see Eunice standing in the saloon doors - one of them still swinging freely. The Smith and Wesson smoked in her hands. Her curls were a mess and her duster had fallen from one creamy shoulder. Tears slid down her face.

"Eunice." Jude slid past the shocked madam. First, she took hold of the gun. It was still hot through her glove. "Ssshhh." She soothed. "Relax, angel." The girl's arms were locked, fingers still gripping the pistol as if she was cast in bronze. "It's ovah now. It's alright." The arms relaxed enough for Jude to remove the gun. Flicking its safety, she stuck it into her own empty holster. "C'mere." She folded Eunice in her arms, mouth to her ear. "I'm awfully proud of you. I know that was hard." More than words could express, really. Jude recognized that her sweet lover was changed forever.

"What have I done?" Eunice wept in Jude's chest.

Quietly, the madam approached, recognizing that something serious was taking place between the two women. "Take her on upstairs, stranger." She handed over Jude's emptied pistols. "The gals and I will...get this cleaned up."

"Will ya send up some bath water, please?" Jude asked. Lulu nodded. "Let's go, Eunice. We'll get ya cleaned up, huh?"

Eunice stared at nothing as they climbed the steps. "I'll never be clean again."

"Yar soul is as untarnished as it always was, love. I assure ya." Jude closed the door behind them. Tossed her gloves onto the side table and tugged off her bandanna. "Come on. Let's...let's clean yar face up." She wrung a clean flannel in the wash basin, began wiping and dabbing Eunice's wet, sticky face.

"I - I committed murder."

"Eunice." Jude slipped the duster from soft, white shoulders. "Ya can't murder the dead. Those men were souls trapped here just like we are. And they made a choice. They chose to be as wicked after death as they were while they lived."

"He was just a boy."

"A boy who was holding a hand cannon to my face, thank ya very much." Jude pushed gently until Eunice sat on their bed.

"I thought he was going to kill you."

"I did, too." She confessed, straddled a chair across from Eunice. "Haven't been that scared in a long time."

Eunice put her face in her hands, trying to hold back fresh tears. "You were right. You can kill someone if they're threatening something you love." She took a deep, steadying breath. Met Jude's eyes. "Or...someone."

Jude took the small, clammy hands. They still smelled of gunpowder. So did her own. "Eunice -"

A knock interrupted. And a timid voice. "I got some hot water out here, stranger!"

Jude winced at the timing. Eunice nearly smiled. "That's Sarah."

"Sarah. Right." Jude re-tied the bandanna and opened the door.

Sarah was possibly one of the most unfortunate whores ever built. Tall as a pussy willow and just as skinny. Brown hair straight as rail ties and a chest like a mesa view. The others affectionately called her Flat Top, although she was pretty much flat all over. Jude accepted two large steaming kettles from her, but Sarah pushed past her into the room. "Eunice! You alright?" Her concern seemed genuine enough.

"I'm fine, Sarah."

"Madam told us what you did down there. With that gun!" A lanky hand flew to concave chest. "Eunice, you was so brave! And a deadeye! They're sayin' you hit that fella at 100 paces!"

Jude rolled her eyes. Not nearly 100 paces...but the reputation being built by exaggeration could certainly only benefit Eunice. And sure enough, she saw Eunice blushing through the steam in the tub.

"Where'd you even learn ta shoot?" Eunice looked at Jude, and Sarah's already big eyes grew bigger. "D'you teach her that fer real, stranger?" At she subtle nod, Sarah shook her head. "Well, this whole damn town's scared half to death of you now. They're callin' you the hand of justice!"

And at that, Jude had to hide a chuckle. But all she said was: "Good."

"Madam said you was spinnin' around like a dervish. She said you looked like some kinda dark angel down there! Five gunslingers at once!" A chuff of admiration. "Specially the Johnson boys! I tell you what -"

"Sarah." Eunice stood, ushering her friend to the door. "We're gonna get cleaned up now. Okay?"

"Oh!" Sarah laughed in the doorframe. "Course you are! Sorry, honey." She winked at Eunice in the door jamb. "Lucky you, too. Gettin' a rich and good lookin' one."

"Sarah, get out!" Eunice shoved. Sarah's laughter echoed down the hall.

Jude tossed hat and bandanna onto the bed. Hung gun belts with care. She leaned backward in the room's only chair, propping boots on the bed rail and bit the end off a tight cigar. Spat it cleanly through the open window. She regarded Eunice calmly as she lit up. "She's right, ya know."

"That I was brave?" Eunice leaned against the closed door for support.

"Well, that yes. And that I'm good lookin'."

Finally, a real smile. And a watery laugh. "God, Jude..."

"You did what you felt was right. Same thing I do, angel." Jude gestured. "Come here." She reached underneath Eunice's skirt, unbuckling the holster on her thigh. "And you were very brave. And you were a deadeye." The holster joined Jude's belts on the bed. She continued undressing Eunice as she talked. "And I know this isn't gonna be easy far ya. I know yar gonna feel guilty. And tortured." She was unlacing the corset. "But ya have ta weigh the decisions like ya did in that moment, angel. He was gonna kill me - and damn himself far all eternity even further. Or you were gonna kill him and send his damned soul on ta Hell, savin' us all the trouble of having ta share air with him."

"If he'd killed you..." Eunice trailed off, naked now, arms crossed over her chest. "I don't know what I would have done."

Jude cupped her face. "Ya probably would have shot his dick off."

"If he hadn't been behind the bar..." Eunice shook her head regretfully.

Jude smiled, ushering her lover into the tub. This time, she washed Eunice's hair. Gentled the girl the same way the girl had gentled Jude. She even sang. And it had been a loooong time since Jude sang. But it felt so good: Eunice's hair, Eunice's skin, the heat of the water, and the vibration of her own voice returning.

Funny how a blessing feels just like a curse

Bad love hurts but somehow good love hurts me worse

'Cause lately I'm mistakin' honey for the bees

Havin' trouble sleepin' with you next to me

Eunice sighed, occasionally stroking Jude's arm or hand. She tilted her head back for a rinse and Jude kissed her sweetly.

I sink in you like water

Pray you won't pull me under

One look and I die

Heaven in your eyes

Hell hot in the white lies

I dive in you like water

I sink like a

Stone in your water

Stone in your water

Eunice cried. She couldn't hold in or hide the emotions. Guilt, yes, over killing a child - even if that child chose wickedness. But more the crippling fear that she was in love with a person who was not capable of loving her back. An incredible woman who could be devastatingly terrible one moment - slaughtering a room full of gunslingers - and then, so unexpectedly: this. This gentle, doting, singing, ravishing woman-soul. It was confusing. Wrenching.

Tell the truth, you know you cannot keep me safe

There's more pain in love than we could find in hate

Lately I've been keepin' honey from the bees

So if you ever leave, at least it's bittersweet

Jude raised Eunice's arms, rinsing the soap and the horror of the day away. And instead of lowering them back to the water, she tugged, bringing the now-boneless girl to her feet in the drink. She set about drying next, worshiping creamy skin with sweeping towel strokes. Head to toe, she rubbed, humming and singing to the last clean curl.

Be gentle with me

Have patience with me

Oh, 'cause I've been in the corner

Of my mind that tells me

I'm not good enough

For anybody like you

Help me out

You know I need you like water

Song finished, lover clean and dry, Jude paused. She studied Eunice's face - the raw emotion there. And Eunice seemed to study her face in turn, reaching up to barely stroke a chiseled cheek. "Jude..."

She caught the hand, clung to it, brought it to her lips. Her throat hurt and she knew it wasn't from singing. She closed her eyes tight against the welling water. "Eunice...I..."

"Shhh." The fingers at her lips straightened, pressed the lips closed. "Don't. I can't. I'm so tired. Will you lay with me until I sleep? Please?"

Jude nodded against the caress. Eunice didn't bother with sleeping attire. Exhausted physically and mentally she simply cocooned herself in quilt and curled in Jude's arm. "Ya know." Jude nuzzled her ear. "I been thinkin' about good names far rabbit farms."

Eunice chuckled. "Like what?" She murmured.

"Like...Hare Hollows."

"Sounds kinda dark."

"Huh. How about Rabbit Run?"

"That's better." She yawned. "You can build the hutches."

"I will, angel."

The night was too quiet. Long after Eunice slept, Jude stared at her. Rabbit hutches... She rose quietly, arm stiff from propping. Eunice's hair dried naturally in gentle waves, and the waves undulated on her chest as she breathed evenly. What have I done to her? She shook the thought, her own guilt gnawing, and headed downstairs to investigate the too-quiet situation.

Lulu sat by herself, in one of the few remaining intact chairs, at one of the few remaining intact tables in the saloon. Jude noted the drying wet spots on the floor. Blood had been scrubbed clean. Glass had been swept. The saloon was clean...but empty.

Safely hidden from public view, Jude dropped pretense. She tugged the bandana down around her neck. Lulu didn't even look up at her when she approached the table. In fact, she barely reacted beyond a sigh when Jude sat. On the table was an ashtray, a half bottle of bourbon, and a glinting sheriff's star.

Jude cleared her throat, propped her boots on a nearby chair. "Quiet night."

Lulu finally looked at her, abject irritation on her face. "You damn smartass."

Jude chuckled. "Better a smartass than a dumbass."

"Or a dead ass." Lulu stabbed a finger at Jude. "It's quiet cuz of you, stranger! This town is terrified of you! They won't come within a hundred yards of my place with you in it!"

Jude spread her hands. "I mean no harm."

"Tell that to the seven new graves on Cemetery Hill!"

"Allow me to rephrase." Jude popped the cork on the bourbon bottle and took a swig. "I mean no harm to anyone who means no harm ta me."

"Well, every soul in this town thinks yer here to clean house."

"Maybe it needs a house-cleaning." Jude looked around. "Certainly improved this place."

"Look here, stranger -"

"Jude."

That stopped the madam mid-tirade. "Pardon?"

Curls unleashed when she removed the hat. Jude shook the golden tresses free, enjoying a good scalp scratch. "My name. It's Jude."

Lulu stared. "Jude."

"Don't wear it out." She offered the bottle.

Grudgingly, and after some hesitation, Lulu accepted."Well, Jude." She took a hearty chug of the brown liquid. "I'll admit you got me vexed and perplexed."

"How's that?"

"What exactly is yer angle here? Ya got the whore ya wanted. You could easily have this whole place, but instead ya pawned it off on me only to empty it out in a blaze of brimstone and tarnation the devil himself might envy. But here you are! Hair like a angel from Heaven and a draw like the fires of Hell. Yer a right damn mysterious bitch, I'll give ya that."

"I'm lookin' far somebody. Two somebodies now, ta be exact."

"Who?"

"Ya wouldn't know 'em."

"You was lookin' fer Mr. Lee. And I knew him."

"That was luck."

"No, it was luck yer little girlfriend showed up with a surprise six-shooter strapped to her money-maker today and blew Jimmy Johnson's face off." Jude shrugged agreement. Lulu leaned toward her. "Can I level with ya?"

"Please."

"The whole town's in a tizzy. They're scared that without a sheriff - even if he was an unrepentant piece of steaming shit - we're gonna descend into a spiral of lawless debauchery and destruction the likes of which we ain't ever seen. And I'll admit I'm worried, too! They're scared of you. And whether or not you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't hurt a fly, you got a whole town to convince otherwise."

"What do you suggest?"

Lulu flicked the sheriff's star on the table. "Pony up, princess. You wanna do some damn good and mean no damn harm? Prove it to 'em."

"Me?!" Jude jolted to attention, boots hitting the floor. "Yar crazy!" She flicked the star back at Lulu. "Find anothah suckah."

Lulu flicked the star back. "There ain't no other sucker, fucker. Don't you get it? They're scared you'll blow 'em to Kingdom Come! Nobody's gonna belly up to that bar if you're tendin' it."

Jude rubbed at her face. "Jesus Christ."

"I doubt he'll listen to you. Probly scared you'll put more holes in him."

"Don't blaspheme!" Jude pointed.

"Blasphemin' is the last of my goddamn worries!" Lulu grunted. "I'll level with you again."

"Fine."

"You gotta go."

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me like you don't know what I'm a-sayin'! You gotta get outta here. I can't have the devil's death dealer livin' upstairs scarin' off the customers, shootin' the place up every time I turn around. You gotta get out. Quick. Get your favorite whore, and yer demon horse, and that Palomino pony, and yer 39 guns, and yer bourbon, and yer longass legs, and yer jingly jangly spurs, and yer fairy tale hair, and that stinkin' ass hat, and get the fuck out!" She gestured firmly to the doors.

"My hat doesn't stink!"

"Are you even listening to me, Jude?"

"Where are we supposed ta go?"

Lulu settled primly in her chair, a smile forming on her face. "Sheriff Johnson had a real nice house. Right up there on that hill. Three whole stories! With a stable out back and a neat paddock. And it just so happens it's currently uninhabited."

Jude squinted suspiciously. "How much?"

"It's the sheriff's house, heifer!" Lulu snapped as if she was dealing with an idiot. "The sheriff lives in it! That's the deal."

Jude took a deep breath. Fingered the glinting star on the table. Am I really about to do this? "Is there a place far rabbit hutches?"

"Jude." Lulu leaned on the table, nonplussed. "You can fill the whole mansion up with rabbits, bunnies, coneys, cottontails and however many members of the family Leporidae that you can fit in there so long as yer outta my damn hair."

"Fair enough." Jude picked up the star, flipping it in her fingers. Lulu watched it flip, transfixed, until Jude fixed it on her shirt - just over her heart. "How's it look?"

"Matches yer hair." Lulu chuckled.

"Shut up."

"Ya know. Yer not a bad lookin' woman, Jude. If this sheriff thing don't work out fer ya, I could offer you a position here in -"

"Seriously." Jude stood. "Shut up, Lulu." She was walking toward the stairs.

"It's multiple positions, actually," Lulu hollered after her. Jude gave her the finger all the way up the stairs, Lulu's laughter following. "G'night, Sheriff!"

"Fuck you, Lulu!"