Bittersweet Candy Bowl

D’aaw forget it, Regulith is slow so here’s some more reading material.
—-
Lucy squirted another stream of the creamy while milk into the bucket she had placed under the bovine’s udders, hearing the fluid slosh around inside of it. The cow she was milking was her best cow, Yashy, and was also incredibly talkative and annoying. Yashy always would chew loudly and spend hours talking to Lucy while being milked, and was generally irritable at all other times. Lucy constantly got complaints about Yashy kicking the young boys who kept trying to tip her, but she paid them no attention, chasing them off her property with her broomstick. She sat back on the stool and wiped her forehead, sighing. She could distinctly remember the only reason she owned a plot of land in this dump town. Her father.

Her was a good man and was slightly wealthy, but constantly felt at fault for Lucy’s cantankerous behavior. He fell ill with cholera one year and on his deathbed he left a ranch to Lucy with barely any money to seemingly teach her the idea of humility. She was whisked away from the bustling city of Chicago and sent rolling across the prairies to this ass-end of Nebraska, forced to work her way back to her father’s status. It seemed like a truly boring time but on her trip there, the scariest yet most cherished moment of her life had happened.

Early morning on June 26th, 1865. Lucy rose up and stretched, the quiet crackling of gravel under the wagon’s wheels greeting her along with the dusty view of the never-ending prairie. She sat up in the rear of the wagon and pushed the warm afghan off her, exposing her short baby-blue skirt and the familiar pink band of cloth that was her bow, fastened tightly around her back. Her faded white blouse gently rippled as a breeze rolled through the opening of the canvas and gently caressed her face. She sighed and climbed up to the front seat, sitting next to the wagon’s driver.

“Good morning, miss.” He said cheerfully with a flick of the reigns in his grasp. The horses moved at a steady pace, carrying the heavy-laden cart behind them. Lucy’s eyes scanned the horizon as the wagon continued along the dirt path that was placed precariously closed to a short cliff over a river of raging waters. Her body jiggled along with the vehicle as she took a deep breath of the mountain air.
“Lovely day indeed, good sir.” She spoke, exposing a fan from her pocket and forcing the cool air onto her face.

“We should be arriving in Roseville soon as per the instructions left upon your will.”
She gazed over the rolling prairie and stared at the mountains in the distance, entranced by the beauty of nature before her.

“Thank you for the lift, kind sir.”

He smiled at her through his monocle and tipped his bowler at her, smoothing the front of his three-piece suit before flicking the reigns again. As she sat in the side of the wagon, a huge noise shattered the silence and in an instant the wagon was surrounded by bandits. There were several, but the tallest one approached the wagon with a bandanna bearing the insignia in the form of a beetle, holding a Winchester.

“My my, let’s see what y’all have in here.” He said, licking his lips. The two sat petrified as the wagon rocked while a few robbers searched Lucy’s personal items, fingering her trinkets. She balled her fists in anger and shouted at the main robber.

“You! Yeah, you! The big dumb-lookin’ varmint!”

The man with the beetle bandanna turned to face her and spun his pistol on his finger.

“My, we have a feisty on here, boys! What say we teach this bitch a lesson about how to speak to a man?”

A nearby bandit grabbed Lucy and pulled her off the wagon while another one held her down. She struggled as the large bandit above her lifted up her skirt, exposing her panties. He put his head in for a better look.

“Mmm mmm. Still a virgin here, little lady?”

Lucy bit her lip and sent her leg flying into the man’s crotch, crushing his testicles beneath her foot. He howled in pain and fell to his knees as Lucy, in a feat of extreme flexibility, kicked the man holding her down in the head, causing him to stumble back and grasp his head. She scrambled to her feet but another two robbers held her back as the man with the bandanna of beetle approached her, taking a whiff of her perfume.

“See, my pals and I like bitches that know how to cooperate. You ain’t one-a those bitches.”

Lucy spat at his face and he laughed insanely, wiping the liquid off his bandanna.

“Toss her in the river.”

She was dragged, kicking and screaming over to the edge of the cliff and was forced to look down at the raging waters below. With a large sweeping motion, Lucy was tossed over the edge of the cliff and fell down to the waters below. She screamed as the wind rippled her clothing violently, the last thing she remembered the sickening splash as her body entered the deep water.

She woke up sometime later, staring at the ceiling of someone’s home. She was wearing a different outfit, one that fit her pretty well and she was lying in a comfortable bed, the only light coming from a lantern on the bedside table. She sat up and rubbed her head as the door to the bedroom opened and a large gray Korat walked in. He carried a tray with two steaming mugs of coffee on it, taking a seat next to Lucy and handing her a cup. She couldn’t turn away from his face; he was incredibly handsome.

“Feelin’ better, miss?” He asked politely, sipping some of his coffee. She held the warm glass in her hands and stared down at the bubbling liquid.

“What happened?”

He chuckled and took another sip of his coffee. “I’d feel better if we were to introduce ourselves, first. I’m Michael, sheriff of this here town. And you are?”

“Lucy. I came from Chicago. What town is this?”

“Roseville.”

“I apparently own a ranch here. Now, would you mind telling me what happened?”
Michael took another sip of his coffee and sighed, placing the cup on the bedside table.

“I found you floating face down in the river while I was bathing. I revived you but you immediately felt unconscious, mumbling something about angels and your father. I carried you back to my home and you’ve been asleep here ever since. How’d a pretty young girl like you end up floating down a river anyway?”

Lucy blushed at his compliment and turned her gaze away. She could feel this was a good man.

“Bandits attacked my wagon, took all my money and things. I’ve got nothing now.”
Michael froze up and snarled quietly. “Bandits? Tell me, did one of them have a beetle on his ‘kerchief?” Lucy nodded and Michael stamped his foot on the floor of the house, shocking Lucy.

“What’s wrong, Michael? Do you know him?”

He laughed quietly and pointed to a framed picture on the wall, the very same one of Sandy and him.

“He shot my wife and kid dead two years ago. I’ve been looking for the varmint ever since.”

There was a short silence before Lucy spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

“’Tis not your fault, Miss Lucy, don’t blame yourself. It was all my fault.”
She cautiously extended her hand to pat his back, but he rose up from his bed. “Sleep here tonight. I won’t mind sharing the sofa with a blanket so long as the woman is happy. We can talk about getting you set up in the morning.”
The Korat exited the small bedroom and presumably climbed onto the sofa to sleep, leaving Lucy behind in the room. She couldn’t put her finger on it but something about this man appealed to her. She fell into a restless sleep that night, the constant sloshing of waves haunting her dreams, fueling her fear of water. The next morning, a plan was worked out between her and Michael. He graciously loaned her the amount of money she had lost plus extra to purchase new furniture and clothing, and she settled into her new town with Michael as one of her closest friends. For the next two years, they spent a lot of time together, be it a shooting contest or playing poker, or even going down to the Coffee Juice Saloon for some whiskey every Friday. Michael didn’t mind her masculine and cantankerous behavior and they grew close.

In the late months of 1866, Lucy came to terms with the fact that she had indeed loved Michael. However, he constantly talked about Sandy and confided his hopes and fears in her, making her realize it would be a long time before he was ready to love anyone. In the very same months, the town erupted into chaos as the mayor’s son – Paulo – began to rob the citizens of their items, causing a huge scandal. And so here she was in the summer of 1867, alone in her barn and contemplating her past history with Roseville. She sighed as the final drop of milk landed in the bucket she had so carefully been filling.

“He still on your mind?” Yashy asked the young rancher, continuing to chew the hay in her mouth. Lucy lowered her head and nodded. “Don’t sweat it.” The cow said, reassuringly mooing at Lucy. “He’ll open up in due time.”

She sighed and rose from the stool, continuing her dairy work. As the day turned into evening, she entered her home to change clothes. It was Friday night and she liked to meet Michael early in the saloon so she could get in a card game with someone before he arrived. She changed out of her normal skirt and blouse into a pair of long cotton pants with chaps, holstering her ivory-handled revolver on the side of her hip. She slipped on a dark colored blouse and a leather vest over it, exiting her home and mounting her steed to ride into town. She tied it up outside the door to David’s saloon and approached the swinging doors, entering the drunken and jovial atmosphere.

She was going to make some money from poker tonight.

BAR FIGHTS!!! COOL!!!

noooooo sandy’s dead I don’t like this no more :’(

But at least she was happy!

Will she win the bar fight?

*ahem* Red Cat Redemption

I’m sorry, Westerns existed long before and cheesy game about them.

And here’s the next part, and I can promise maybe a few character portraits from Regulith later this evening.
—-
Michael snored quietly under the brim of his hat as the sun set on the horizon, the evening light pouring through the sheriff’s office window. He was laid back in his old wooden chair having fallen asleep tasked with watching only one prisoner. The town drunk – Carter – sat in the jail cell, snoring quietly. No one really understood Carter. He just showed up in town one day and started to follow Lucy around, constantly repeating the phrase “I love Lucy”. He’d always get hammered on a Friday night knowing Michael and Lucy were together in the saloon and usually got into trouble so it was ruled they’d just lock him up every Friday. Michael always took a nap before heading out to meet Lucy, knowing she loved to spend so much time playing poker before he got there, vowing to beat her in a game after nearly two years as friends. His slumber was rudely awoken as the door to his office slammed open and the portly figure of the town’s wealthy banker stepped in, his daughter in tow.

“Sheriff!” The man bellowed, grasping the edges of his green three-piece suit with his stubby fingers. “This is the final straw! You must arrest that hooligan Paulo at once! He has robbed me of precious money for the last dad-gummed time!”
Michael sat forward in his chair, raising the brim of his hat and yawing deeply.

“What’s the problem, Mr. Canning?”

The obese feline’s face was as red as a beat, contrasting his golden fur color. He adjusted his wide-rimmed spectacles and sighed. “I’ll let my daughter explain the crime. Tessa!”

His older daughter stepped from behind him, wearing a wide-brimmed skirt and lightly colored blouse. She crossed her arms and muttered under her breath.
“The six o’ clock bank train was robbed and the signs indicate the Rough Riders are the ones who did it.”

Her father interrupted her with a few wags of his finger. “The point of a gun is the only law that boy understands!”

Michael sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “The mayor’ll just pay bail for him as usual.”

Mr. Canning pounded Michael’s desk in anger. “So shoot the varmint! I will not have lawlessness run amok in this town because the perpetrator is the son of the mayor! You of all people should know this, sheriff!”

Michael bit his lip and absorbed the overweight feline’s words. He knew it was wrong, but his deputies were on the payroll of the mayor and if he tried anything, it’d be him against his brethren and Paulo’s gang. He closed his eyes and thought for a few moments as Mr. Canning continued to seethe, checking his golden pocket watch impatiently.

“Look, Mr. Canning.” Michael began, rising from his chair and fixing his hat, “I’ve got a date with a pretty ‘lil gal. I’ll think about what to do when I get back here after to release Carter. That fine with you?”

Mr. Canning nearly exploded.

“What! Are you telling me Paulo gets away again because you have a date with that trollop, Lucy? I’ll have you know—“

He was interrupted as Michael grabbed him by his collar and raised a fist to his face.
“It’s not very nice to be callin’ that young gal a trollop, nor to be usin’ such language in front of a lady such as your daughter.”

Tess shuffled her feet uncomfortably as Michael released his hold on her father, causing the shocked feline to stumble back a few paces. He regained his composure and smoothed his lapel, turning to leave the station.

“Come, Tessa.”

Her father exited the small jail and Tess shot Michael one last look, her brown eyes boring deep into his soul.

“Mark my words, Michael.” She said, placing her hand on her hip. “If this continues, you’ll have an insurrection on yer hands. And then it’s time to choose.”

She reached down to her leg and lifted her skirt slightly to expose a concealed derringer.

“Ain’t no tin-star gonna stand in our way to get justice.”

Michael crossed his arms and watched her leave the station, frowning greatly. Paulo had been nothing but trouble for the longest time. It had started a little over half a year ago, near the end of 1866. No one knows exactly why, but Paulo formed a gang, supposedly with a bunch of men from outside the city, and began to rob the supply wagons and trains that ran through the town, carrying supplies to and from the construction of the transcontinental railroad that dangerously neared their small town. The town was in an uproar as the mayor would constantly get his crooked cops to release his son from jail each time Michael caught him. Michael was the only officer that the townsfolk trusted, but seeing his inability to deal with the large crooked side of Roseville caused them to resent him, leaving him with very few friends. The townsfolk even went so far as to suggest the mayor had used his son to get the materials for his own profit, but without evidence Michael could do nothing.

The townsfolk kept from rioting for Michael’s sake, and for the children. They came dangerously close three months ago, but the town’s pastor had talked them out of it. Abbey had quite a way with words and he was one of Michael’s old friends, having been instated as the town’s pastor the same time Michael and Sandy arrived after the Civil War. Abbey had apparently been drafted into the Union army but deserted, turning to the priesthood to protect him. He ran the small chapel on the south side of town with the help from his wife, Daisy. She had been the town’s schoolteacher long before any of the three arrived and Abbey and her fell in love almost immediately, tying the knot soon after.

Michael shook the recollections from his head and exited the station, locking the metal door behind him. He stepped down onto the worn sand that was the main road of the town, walking past Kizuna’s general store and waving at her as he passed prompting her to stop sweeping and wave back. He passed Doc McCain’s clinic, closed for the night but the figure of McCain visible in the bright light in his office. Soon, the laughter and clinking of bottles signaled the saloon’s presence and Michael stared up at the large sign above the cherry-wood building.

‘The Coffee-Juice Saloon’

He pushed through the saloon’s doors and stepped into the din, scanning the room before him. The walls were a light walnut color and the floor matched it in shade, a large bar lined against the left wall with a stage on the right wall, two showgirls dancing in a vulgar manner to the tune of a piano, prompting cheers and shouts from the drunken men in the bar. The tables were covered in a fabric of the same make and color as the stage’s curtains, a dark maroon tinge to it. The smell of alcohol was present in the air and Michael found Lucy’s normal table, seeing her already engaged in a game of cards with a stranger. He chuckled and walked over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the oak stools.

“Hey, evenin’ David.” Michael said, tapping his finger lazily on the counter. The canine slid down the bar in a whimsical fashion and lowered his head so he could only peer over the counter’s edge at Michael’s face. He wore his usual white shirt and red vest, a black bow tie hugging his neck tightly.

“Howdy, Michael.” He whispered. “What can I get for you tonight?”

The cat chuckled and sighed. “You know I don’t drink alcohol, David. Get me a glass of water.”

The dog stood up bolt-right and saluted. “You got it, sir!”

He turned his back to Michael and pranced over to the glasses behind him as Michael turned around on his stool to face the dining floor. Lucy appeared to be arguing with the man she was playing cards with. Michael immediately rose to his feet as the man reached for his revolver, but a huge gunshot rang out in the saloon, causing a deathly silence over the people gathered. The man Lucy had been arguing with had a meaty pulp for a crotch and he fell to the floor, bleeding and dead. Lucy rose from the table, holding the smoking weapon in her hands that was Patton, her .45 revolver. She slid the ivory-handled behemoth into its holster and stepped over the man’s body, approaching the counter as the silence in the saloon remained the same. David grinned nonchalantly at her and she sat down next to Michael, sighing.

“Sorry about the mess, David.” She told him. He waved his hand and slid a cup of ice water of to Michael.

“No problem, that’s only the third time this month.”

Michael gagged on his water as a smirk crossed Lucy’s face, the piano slowly starting up and the conversations resuming as two men dragged the dead body of the man outside. David bit his lip and shook his head.

“Abbey’s not gonna like having to do a burial at this time of night.”

Michael shot Lucy a disapproving glare but she smiled as David handed her a glass of her normal drink, hard whiskey. She chugged it down eagerly and sighed as the liquid sloshed around in her belly. She turned to face Michael and grinned at him, drumming her hands on the table.

“Well, tin-star, y’all think you can beat me in poker today?”

Michael smiled at her challenge and finished his water. “I reckon I can.”

Lucy beamed in a devilish manner and rubbed her hands together. “Well, let’s sweeten the pot. If I win, you’ll have to wear one of my skirts for an entire day.”
Michael rubbed his chin in a playful fashion, contemplating her childlike request.

“And if I win?”

She grinned at him teasingly. “If you win – which I doubt you will – I’ll give you Patton.” She patted the ivory-plated handle of her trusty revolver.

“You’re on, little lady.”

He was surprised as she grabbed him by the hand and ran him over to a different table as her usual spot was being cleaned of blood and testicle bits. The two sat down across from each other as Lucy pulled out her faded and worn deck of cards, shuffling them expertly. She licked her lips and laughed at Michael.

“Y’all ready to wear a skirt for a day? It’d probably be rather drafty.”

Michael returned her glance and smiled. “Hah, more like me takin’ ol’ Patton out for some hard work instead.”

She shook her head lightheartedly as she dealt the cards, five across to each.

“Deuces wild.”

Michael gripped his first hand of the coming night eagerly, staring at the faces of the cards with a mild anticipation. A five of clubs, four of diamonds, three of hearts, queen of clubs, and a deuce of diamonds. A rather good hand, he could go for a straight, hoping for an ace or a six. He placed the queen down on the table as Lucy slid a card to replace it over to him, placing two of her own face down and taking two from the deck. It was a six of hearts! Michael grinned widely as Lucy finished arranging her cards and peered over their edges at Michael’s face.

“Whaddya got, tin-star?”

“A straight, six high.” He said triumphantly, placing his five cards down on the table. Lucy’s expression turned to shock before she laid her own hand down.

“Full house, kings high.”

Michael swore under his breath as Lucy smirked, crossing her legs and drumming her fingers on the table.

“Bad start, tin-star.” She said playfully.

“Oh, the night isn’t over yet.” He said, motioning for her to pass out the next hand. The card game lasted for exactly two hours and glasses upon glasses piled on the table as the two friends continued their card game, neck and neck to victory with each hand. The final hand was drawn and Michael wiped his brow. His hat sat next to him on the table and a group had gathered around the two of them, interested in seeing the outcome of this battle. After Lucy dealt him his final three cards, he glared triumphantly at his hand. A full house, two aces and three kings. There was no way she could beat him.

“Alright, Mikie.” She said, hiccupping on the whiskey she had downed so eagerly. “Let’s see yer final hand.”

Michael plopped his cards down with a look of great satisfaction on his face. “Full house, ace high.” He rose from the table and grabbed his hat. “I’ll take Patton, now.”
Lucy laughed and shook her head. “Think again, girly.”

She placed her hand down and Michael reeled back in shock. It was a royal flush. She shakily stood up from the table and smiled at him.

“I hope you like skirts.”

She began to fall but he walked forward to catch her. She was totally drunk and he sighed, lifting her over his arm and carrying her out of the saloon. She had overdrank herself tonight, no way she’d be able to take care of herself. So Michael did his job as her big-brother figure and carried her back to his home, lying her on his guest bed and blowing out the light, allowing her to sleep as he went about his night business before turning in for the night.

He’d need a lot of rest if he was to wear a skirt the next day, especially in front of the other deputies.

lolwut. mike in a skirt.

Maybe she’ll be too hung over to remember. I hope not!

Tess in the West

Lucy in the West

I graciously thank Lisa for this work, you’ve really helped us out!

Man, this is really dark but very very good! Also, “testicle bits” is in no way a fun term.

After this, I will be transferring the entire thing to fanfiction or something.
—-
Lucy’s head was pounding. She groaned and opened her eyes to find herself staring at the hairy back of Michael with her arm around him. She nearly had a heart attack and kicked him swiftly in the rear, expelling him from the bed and causing him to land face down on the hard wooden floor of his home. He scrambled to his feet and rubbed his head, turning to face Lucy and yawn.

“The hell are you doin’, gal?”

She sat up in bed and rubbed her temples, the effects of the alcohol last night making her nauseous.

“What in tarnation’s going on? Why the hell was I in bed with you?”

Michael rubbed his eyes and walked over to a nearby dresser, taking a fresh pair of clothing out.

“Why, I don’t know. I put you to bed in the guest room. Only guess is y’all climbed in of your own accord.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

She blushed deeply as Michael winked at her before exiting the bedroom, leaving her slightly stunned. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling the alcohol course through her veins causing her temples to throb in pain. She dragged herself out of bed and found her clothing balled up on a nearby chair, taking care to lock the door as she changed out of her nightgown and into her pants and vest. She exited the bedroom to find Michael already dressed, picking at a bowl of steaming oatmeal with apples. He pointed to a second bowl with his fork and she took a seat, spooning the breakfast eagerly into her mouth. She savored the sweet tasted of the meal and sighed, the scent of apple wafting through the home.

“Now lookie here, Mikie.” She began, taking a moment to spoon more food into her mouth. “Don’t y’all be thinkin’ just ‘cause I done got hammered last night made me forget about our bet.”

Michael laughed and sipped his coffee. “I wouldn’t dream of you forgetting a moment to humiliate me. You seem to love doing that.”

Lucy stopped eating for just a moment as she absorbed his words. ‘Do I really emasculate him?’ She covered up her quick moment of fault and continued to eat eagerly, leaving Michael none the wiser. He opened the daily paper and read through the headlines while the two ate, finishing a short while before Lucy. He gathered their bowls and carried them over to the counter, scrubbing them clean over a tin vat.

“You know, Michael, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to…” She said sheepishly, twiddling her thumbs.

He laughed and continued to scrub the china. “Goin’ soft on me, are ya?”
Lucy scoffed and crossed her arms. “Yeah, you’re right. Your dumb ass lost anyway so y’all better be holding up your end of the bargain.”

Michael muttered under his breath as Lucy averted her gaze from him, a frown flashing across her face for but a moment. Michael placed the pottery out to dry and walked over to the coat rack, putting his vest and hat on. He motioned for Lucy to follow him.

“If I done gotta wear one-a y’all’s dresses, you best be comin’ with me to your house.”

She rose from the oak table and followed him outside, watching him mount his horse. She climbed on the back behind Michael and slid her arms around his torso as he kicked the horse with his spurs, sending it galloping down the dirt road that lead to his house. Lucy snuggled her head against Michael’s back, making him look quizzically over his shoulder as the prairie landscape sped by, the two of them nearing the fork in the road that lead from Lucy’s ranch to the town. She closed her eyes and sighed as the wind rippled her clothing before the horse stopped in front of her home. As she climbed off of Michael’s steed, a pink paper nailed to her door caught her eye. She approached it and tore it off, fuming as she read what was listed below.

“Dear Miss Lucy,

Your property has been bought by the mayor of the town and you are hereby evicted from these premises. You have two days to gather your materials and exit the home before the sheriff is authorized to place you under arrest for trespassing and imprison you indefinitely. This was authorized by Mr. Canning and all legal matters are passed and taken care of.
Yours truly,

Tessa Canning”

She was fuming as her eyes ran over the black print, not knowing Michael came up behind her and had begun to read himself. She growled and crumpled the pink paper up, tossing it to the ground. Her hand immediately shot for her revolver but Michael grabbed it, making sure she didn’t do anything she was going to regret.

“This is my home, Michael. I am not leaving it, especially not for some fat mayor who’s using illegal money to buy up my land!”

“I know, Lucy. I know it’s wrong.”

“So do something about it!”

She stared into his eyes, silently pleading for help. His brain flashed back to the same look in Sandy’s eyes right before she died. He couldn’t get close to someone else. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, sighing.

“I’m sorry, Lucy… I… can’t.”

She tore her hand out of his grasp and spat at his feet.

“I thought you were my friend, Michael. I need you now more than ever and all you can say is ‘I’m sorry, I can’t’? I guess your true colors come out as a yellow-bellied varmint. Go on, crawl back to your dead-as-a-doornail wife and sob your little heart out while the rest of us townsfolk deal with this injustice.”

She took a finger and flicked his sheriff’s badge.

“Y’all don’t need a shiny badge on your chest to have honor.”

She stormed into her home and slammed the screen shut behind her followed by the clicking of several locks. Michael sighed and walked back over to his horse. He rode the stallion into town and stepped off of the animal, stopping for a few drinks at the saloon which became unusually empty after a good half hour. He walked back over to the sheriff’s office to find the deputies conversing quietly. They stopped as he entered the room and his oldest deputy, Jeff, walked up to him.

“Sheriff, we got us a problem.”

Michael sighed and removed his hat, running his hand over his head. “What is it, Jeff?”

The feline bit his lip before speaking. “The townsfolk are outside the mayor’s house, a few of ‘em are armed. That broad Lucy is waving around that big gun o’ hers and a few of them are armed. The mayor’s scared, he want us to go down and shoot her, make a lesson outta all this.”

“Shoot her? Are you insane?”

“Hey, they’re all in an uproar ‘cause he’s buyin’ the town up with stolen money.”
“But that’s not true, right?”

The deputies exchanged glances and laughed. “Well o’ course it is! We’re all getting payment advances and bonuses when they come and flatten this dump. So come on sheriff, let’s go shoot that dumb broad.”

Michael caught his hand before it found his revolver and spoke through gritted teeth.
“Let me get Abbey, perhaps he can talk some sense into them.”

Jeff scratched his chin. “Y’all got twenty minutes. No more, no less.”

Michael immediately ran from the sheriff’s office down through the deserted streets to the large white chapel. Abbey’s house stood in the back and he impatiently rapped on the screen door. It opened, revealing the small blonde frame of Daisy. She beamed at Michael.

“Hello, sheriff. What can I do for you?”

He tipped his hat. “Howdy, Miss Daisy. Is the reverend home?”

She nodded and invited Michael in. He waited by the door as she walked into the back room, emerging a few moments later with Abbey at her side. He wore light brown robes and held the bible in his left hand.

“Sheriff.” He said, putting his hand out. Michael shook his hand vigorously and sighed.

“Abbey, we got us a problem.”

The priest adjusted his spectacles and peered through the thin lenses at him.
“What’s going on?”

“The townsfolk are rioting outside the mayor’s manor. They got guns and they want blood. If they don’t calm down… I have to shoot Lucy.”

Abbey tapped his fingers on the cover of the good book, contemplating what to do. Daisy worriedly grabbed his hand as he was lost in his own thoughts. Michael impatiently checked his pocket watch.

“Look, Abbey. I only had twenty minutes and five are already gone. We need to get a move on.”

Abbey sighed and nodded his head, allowing Michael to lead him from his home. Daisy watched them go down the path with an anxious look in her eyes before shutting the door to her house behind them. The two men walked down the deserted town road up to the mayor’s manor house that sat atop a hill, seeing the large crowd gathered around the gates. Lucy stood atop a makeshift stage and raised her fist to the crowd, causing them to roar in agreement. Abbey and Michael waded their way through the crowd and climbed up on the stage.

“Lucy, what in sam hill are you doin’?” Abbey said, fixing his glasses.

Lucy looked down at the two men and crossed her arms. “This is not right and we aren’t going to stand for it anymore. I’m sorry, Father.”

Abbey tried to talk some sense into Lucy, but the deputies had grown tired of waiting and circled the crowd, their rifles in hand. Lucy stared around at the men and then turned to face Michael, pulling her revolver and aiming it at his forehead. He stumbled back, but she kept the barrel on his face.

“So, you’ve come here to shoot me, Michael?” She said, her hand trembling slightly. “Friend or not, no tin-star is going to stand in my way.”

Michael tried to calm her down. “Now, Lucy. This wasn’t my idea. I wouldn’t dream of hurting you…” He paused for a moment, noticing her hand slightly relax on the weapon. “Do you really want anymore blood on your hands?”

Her thumb trembled as she placed it on the hammer of the weapon. “Mike… Mike… Don’t… don’t make me shoot you. I will.”

“Lucy, this isn’t you! Put the gun down, we’re all friends here.”

The weapon clicked as she pulled back the hammer, placing her thumb back down on the ivory handle of the weapon. “I… I’m warning you… I’ll…”

“Lucy. Do you really want to stoop to their level? What would your father say?”

She froze. “My F…father?” She focused her eyes on Michael’s and fell forward,
clinging to his vest and sobbing quietly. “I’m sorry… Michael.” He patted her back to comfort her, but one of the nearby deputies had had enough. He drew his revolver and cocked it, advancing on the crying girl in Michael’s arm. He steadied the weapon and leveled it with her back. Before Michael had a chance to shout, a gunshot rang out and the crowd gasped as a body fell to the floor, bleeding from a wound in its back.

cliffhanger!

I got off my ass and actually did some work

…is what Susan told me to say.

But I did, and I’m slowly working on getting the characters looking right.

Verrrry slowwwwly. I’m sorry ;_;

Damn! When you get started on the comic version, can you continue the fanfiction version? This is really good

Regulith does some work!

See I’m not that lazy!

*Slacks off for the next few hours*

Alright, starting on the new installment.

agh, I was making Michael.

that makes me so mad

grrrr

You can still make him! We’d appreciate the community’s help with concepts, much like Lisa and TheUnwiseMan did.

Alright, so Mike’s stallion now has to be named Carson.

@Hannibal: And it would have a massive erection every time he rode on it? No thanx.

Hey, thanks to me there’ve already been two previous Carson stallions. I intend for there to be a third.

Oh no whats that?
Your horse broke its leg?
Well im sorry but it will have to be put down.
*readys a bullet into a .45*

dumb idea contest you guys
bcb in outer space vs bcb in the wild west
you decide

obvious troll is obvious? So anyway, what’s the ETA on the fan comic?

When Regulith stops drawing naughty things.

so might take awhile then?

What doesn’t porn ruin? So much wasted talent on boobies…

*goes to NSFW thread instead of drawing in sketchbook… that’s lying open to a clean sheet… with pens right there…*

Wasted talent…

Regulith, you naughty monkey.

Happehface: the only arts I did in the past three years was for the NSFW thread to gain the right to continue posting there.

Has this story ended?

I hope it’s not Gull… but I’m 99% sure they’re just waiting to post more until the comic launches.

I’m probably going to post more seeing as Regulith is very busy, so expect some in the next hour or so.

seems everybody forgot about this thread, looking forward to more of the story though

We’re doing our best but we keep getting sidetracked ;-;