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Sayo’s pa always told her jus’ one thing: “a woman’ll bring ya nuthin’ but trouble. Yer better off without one.”
Now, Sayo sure did always reckon that were a doggone strange thing to say t’ a lil’ girl, considerin’ one day she’d grow up into a mighty fine woman ’erself, an’ fer th’ longest time she blew it off as one o’ her pa’s gruff mumblin’s he always took to when he dipped a lil’ too hard into th’ moonshine. Then again, all th’ local townsfolk always said she were like a lil’ version o’ him. Maybe it were only a matter o’ time ’til she grew up and understood exactly what he meant.
’Cuz righ’ now, there were a whole five women causin’ Sayo th’ biggest trouble o’ ’er daggum life.
Th’ sand crept up all slow like on ’er spurs, which clinked an’ clanked as she paced ‘round th’ front o’ th’ localbank, ’er arms crossed firmly as she hemmed and hawed with impatience. “Th’ least these ne’er-do-wells could do was show up on time…” she muttered, fannin’ ’erself with ’er ten-gallon hat.
“Miss Sayo!” called Ako, ’er faithful deputy. “Wat’ll we do wen th’ bandits show up?”
“Apprehend ‘em, by God’s good grace,” said Sayo, lookin’ off int’ th’ sunset. Th’ late evenin’ brought not only th’ haze o’ a moonless night, but th’ appearance o’ th’ most notorious band o’ hustlers in all fifty states -- th’ Afterglow Bandits. Wether it were pullin’ train robb’ries or holdin’ up caravans or jus’ plain lootin’ th’ local treasury, these infamous thugs had half th’ sheriffs in th’ country comin’ after ’em.
An’ Sayo were th’ biggest Afterglow hunter o’ ’em all. She’d been tailin’ ’em e’er since they’d hauled a big fat load o’ dosh from her pa’s ranch some years ago, an’ she had no intention o’ e’er lettin’ up soon. ’Course, there were only so much one sheriff could do on ’er own, so she had gotten some help ’long th’ way as o’ late -- first from a couple o’ rogue cowgirls named Yukina and Lisa, then a quiet lass o’ a markswoman named Rinko, an’ finally this lil’ purple-headed deputy. ‘Parently one o’ th’ bandits were Ako’s older sister: Sayo couldn’ imagine livin’ with a criminal fer a siblin’. Even if she did have a rapscallion fer a sister.
Th’ bank street were empty, so solemn an’ quiet that a tumbleweed could set up shop an’ have a couple o’ kids right on th’ bank’s porch. Rinko hung a solid thirty yards away, poised with a huntin’ rifle to snipe any wayward squirrel or thief that passed by ’er view. Yukina an’ Lisa strolled ’round th’ alleys t’ th’ bank’s side fer any sign o’ life. And Sayo and Ako stood firmly in front, standin’ guard t’ make sure none o’ th’ millin’ passerby who came t’ watch got any funny ideas. With a snarl, Sayo hocked ’er tobacco into th’ closest spitoon, its splat ringin’ for a solid five seconds. “Don’ like it. Wind feels wrong.”
“Ya always say that, Miss Sayo,” Ako pointed out. “’Sides, ah’m sure sis an’ th’ others’ll be here any minute now! They left a note an’ ev’rythin’!”
Th’ sound o’ Sayo’s cowboy boots stopped on th’ dirt. It were true that th’ bandits always left a note ’fore they hit up a spot, but usually they were all flashy ’bout it. Showin’ up at th’ dot o’ six o’ clock a-hootin’ an’ hollerin’. Wat were th’ meanin’ o’ it all…?
“’Scuse me, Sheriff?” asked Lisa, steppin’ on o’er from ’er post. “Um, there’s a whole big crowd o’ people ’round… how do we know if any o’ ’em are part o’ Afterglow?”
“Yer still an amateur, Miss Imai,” said Sayo politely. “Ah’ve been trackin’ ’em for years now. Ah’ll know ’em on sight.”
“Ah, really?” asked Lisa. “Can ya tell me what they look like, then?”
Sayo nodded. “First’s their leader -- or who I presume’s their leader. Black Orchid. Dark hair. Red streak. Fire in ’er eyes. She’ll fight ya with pistols or ’er fists if she has t’. Then there’s ’er number two, with th’ white hair and th’ grin o’ a dope: Bread-Breath. You've met ’er ’fore, if I do recall.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“She’s th’ wily one. More slith’ry than a snake. Knows ‘ow t’ git outta cuffs an’ ev’rythin’. Almost had ‘’er once ’fore she slinked outta her binds and kicked me off th’ dang horse.” Sayo shuddered at th’ mem’ry. “Then there’s Pinkie. Not much o’ a fighter, but she’s fierce. Nearly bit off mah hand near Dub Gorge. Collaborated with that dastardly purple-haired purloiner out near Hane Oakley Way -- had a thing fer ’er, ‘parently.”
“Don’ fergit sis!” said Ako.
“That’s right,” Sayo replied. “Ol’ Redhead. In a one-on-one brawl she’s th’ last person ya wanna throw down with. She’ll rip ya right in half.”
“There’s one more, right?” asked Lisa.
Sayo’s heart panged at th’ thought.
“That’s gotta be right,” said Ako. “Ah’ve seen th’ wanted posters -- there’s five o’ ’em, ain’t there? Last one didn’ have a picture, though… didn’ e’en have a name.”
Sayo’s brow scrunched tighter than a prairie dog in an ant hill. She remembered th’ face o’ that saloon girl all too well… th’ clean-cut hair, th’ pr’nounced dimples, th’ way her pearly whites flashed in th’ evenin’… like an angel in th’ desert, hotter than th’ high noon sun.
If only she’d known that angel were a devil.
“Sheriff?” asked Lisa. “Ya alright?”
Sayo coughed. “Ah’ll be fine. Git yer hide back to yer post.”
Her curtness sent Lisa frownin’ as she saunters on back towards Yukina in th’ alleyway. Rinko looked on as mum as a vulture without dinner. Ako, fer ’er part, tried not t’ look too discouraged. “Well, it won’t matter one bit! Yer th’ finest sharpshooter west o’ th’ Rio Grande, after all!”
Sayo knew that were only ’cuz ’er sister lived east o’ th’ Rio Grande. But she let th’ comment slip by.
A rumblin’ sent ’er ’and to th’ pistol in its holster as she faced down th’ street t’ see a wagon roll into view. Th’ clinkin’ o’ glass sounded above th’ roll o’ th’ wheels and th’ meander o’ th’ donkey pullin’ it all. Sayo’s guard dropped as soon as she recognized th’ contents. “Milk seller. Clear th’ way, y’all.”
She an’ Ako stepped back as th’ horse-drawn wagon full o’ clankin’ milk jugs milled on past, th’ bonneted driver clutchin’ th’ reins, a lil’ tuff o’ pink hair bobbin’ with th’ rock o’ th’ carriage--
Wait a rotten second. Pink hair?
She saw th’ feet clamborin’ behind th’ wagon’s wheels too late.
“It’s th’ bandits!” Sayo cried, holsterin’ her revolver. “Miss Minato! Miss Imai!”
Th’ two swiveled inside th’ alley jus’ as th’ feet disappeared inside th’ bank proper and th’ sound o’ “FREEZE!” howled from within.
Sayo took off in a run, scramblin’ past th’ behind o’ th’ wagon when a body slammed int’ ’er from th’ side -- it were Ol’ Redhead, crackin’ her knuckles with a fight in ’er eyes. She walloped Sayo in th’ jaw twice ’fore she got tackled by Deputy Ako ’erself.
“Ah’ll take sis!” Ako cried. “You go after th’ rest o’ ’em!”
Rinko cocked ’er rifle and aimed towards th’ bank’s front as Ako got down to fisticuffs. With little time t’ think, and gunshots beginnin’ to blare from inside, Sayo tipped ’er ’at to her brawlin’ lil’ loo’tenant ’fore duckin’ int’ th’ bank.
Dust an’ thunder raged ’round ’er ears: an ol’-fashioned Texas shootout was whizzin’ from one end o’ th’ establishment t’ th’ other, as Yukina and Lisa fired off rounds from cover at a pair o’ bandits duckin’ behind a teller’s table. Sayo dived t’ join ’em. “What’s th’ word?”
“Lost one o’ ’em,” said Yukina calmly. “Probly in th’ vault.”
“These two’re puttin’ up a real fight!” yelped Lisa, a bullet missin’ ’er ’ead by inches.
“They’re some right scoundrels,” growled Sayo, firin’ off a couple wayward rounds. “Shoulda been more guarded. Were my fault that this--”
“Miss Sayo,” said Lisa, as quietly as she could given th’ hellfire ragin’, “now’s not th’ time. We got some burglars to round up.”
Sayo grit her teeth. “...Yer right. Mah apologies.”
Th’ back door t’ th’ bank busted open as a woman cloaked in a bandana scurried out with bags full o’ cash. One o’ th’ two firin’ on Sayo an’ th’ rest -- Black Orchid -- tilted her head an’ shouted, “Make a break fer it, Tsugu!”
“Andelay, andelay!” cried Bread-Breath.
Th’ robber nodded an’ made for th’ rear. Sayo’s eyes narrowed. “Consarn it… she’s hightailin’ it. We gotta git after ’er.”
“Go,” said Yukina. “We’ll distract ’em.”
With that, th’ lone wolf cowgirl burst from her cover, unloading an entire spray o’ shotgun shells all at once. Black Orchid and Bread-Breath ducked, givin’ Sayo th’ opportunity she needed to dash out th’ back away from th’ hootenanny.
No sooner had she busted out int’ th’ alleyway than did she hear th’ cloppin’ o’ a ’orse speedin’ off towards th’ sunset, leavin’ sandy hoofprints in its wake. With another growl, Sayo took th’ reins o’ another ’orse tied to th’ same post and gave it a sharp kick to send it a-gallopin’.
They sped off int’ th’ west, th’ light o’ dusk paintin’ th’ desert cacti amber as Sayo barreled forth, spurrin’ ’er horse on hard to catch up with th’ wayward rustler. They strode along th’ ridge o’ th’ Circle Gulf, th’ deep gorge to their left harkin’ a grizzly demise if they took one misstep.
Fortunately, Sayo knew th’ geography. And her mark were headin’ right fer a dead end.
Their mounts slowed t’ a trot as they came upon th’ edge o’ th’ ridge, th’ brilliant settin’ sun hangin’ as a half-circle in th’ distance. Th’ bandit dismounted an’ hotfooted it away, but she had nowhere t’ run -- Sayo cocked ‘’er revolver an’ pointed it dead onward. “Don’ move.”
Th’ bandit threw ’er hands up, droppin’ ’er money bags t’ th’ ground with a splat.
Sayo stepped forward slowly, th’ clankin’ o’ ’er spurs ’armonizin’ with th’ low, guttural wind. “I may not be able to round up th’ lot o’ ya t’day, but ah can at least stop ya from makin’ off with yer score.”
Th’ outlaw slowly spun around, ’er hazelnut eyes shimmrin’ in th’ evenin’ ochre. She pulled down ’er bandana t’ reveal a kind, awkward smile -- a smile Sayo knew all too well.
“Miss Sayo.”
Her voice were as polite an’ enunciated as ever. Ya wouldn’t know she were a fiend by th’ look o’ it. Th’ grip on Sayo’s revolver tightened. “...Miss Hazawa.”
Even now it hurt to say that name -- that name, more poisonous than a rattlesnake. But th’ venom Sayo felt from seein’ Tsugumi’s pleaful gaze was much sweeter. Much deadlier.
“Please, Miss Sayo,” said Tsugumi, claspin’ hands t’ ’er heart. “I don’ wanna hurt ya.”
“...Ya already did,” said Sayo. “Here I thought you were a sweet lil’ barmaid who could serve a cup o’ joe better than any brewer in all th’ west, but it turns out yer a no-good swindler coverin’ fer yer bandit friends.”
“We don’ steal ’cuz we like it,” said Tsugu. “We steal ‘cuz there’s folks who need it. Poor kids ’cross th’ border. Widows without a penny t’ their name. Farmers tendin’ to fields o’ dust.”
“An’ that gives ya th’ right t’ break th’ law as you see fit?”
Tsugumi remained silent. From far in th’ distance, a train horn sounded.
“Ah reckon you’ll have plenty o’ time t’ reflect once yer behind bars,” said Sayo, motionin’ towards herself. “Come on. I don’t wanna hurtcha.”
Tsugumi closed ’er eyes. “Alright. Then don’.”
Sayo blinked. “I beg yer pardon?”
“If yer gonna take me in…” Tsugumi thumped ‘’erself right on th’ chest. “Then yer gonna have t’ shoot me. Right here.”
Sayo’s eyes went wider than th’ moon.
“Miss Sayo,” Tsugumi repeated. “Please. This ain’t about law an’ justice. It’s ’bout right an’ wrong.”
Th’ end o’ Sayo’s barrel quivered. It were pointed right at Tsugumi’s poncho-covered chest, shakin’ an’ stirrin’ harder than a buckin’ bronco. Unable to look at her unsteady grip, Sayo instead turned up… only t’ meet those darlin’ eyes.
Satan himself wouldn’t have looked half as bewitchin’.
Th’ revolver lowered.
Sayo’s eyes met th’ dirt. “...Never wanna see yer face again. It’ll jus’ remind me o’ mah own failures.”
“Miss Sayo…”
“Go on. Git.”
There were a quiet over th’ ridge. Th’ only sound in ’er ears was th’ rumblin’ o’ a train over th’ gorge below, chuggin’ away with fire an’ coal.
“...You’ve ne’er been a failure, Miss Sayo.”
Suddenly, hands clasped around her arms. She turned her head to see lips comin’ in towards her own--
Th’ taste o’ coffee.
That bitter, bitter coffee. Th’ best cup o’ joe in th’ whole wild west.
Tsugumi pulled away, blushin’ as her hands fiddled around her waist. “Ah knew it. Ya still have th’ sweetest lips a girl’s e’er known.”
An’ ’fore Sayo could process any o’ it, th’ brunette bandit grabbed th’ money and hopped off th’ edge, fallin’ on top o’ th’ train below.
...Even now, when committin’ larceny -- probably on ‘’er way to rob that there train -- she had that kind look. Th’ one she wore when servin’ up Sayo a glass o’ sarsaparilla. Th’ one she wore when hearin’ out Sayo’s late-night woes. Th’ one she wore as she meekly apologized fer tyin’ th’ sheriff up in a back room so th’ bandits could make off with a cattle herd. A devil t’ th’ end.
And if she were a devil... by th’ name o’ th’ Lord, Sayo were a sinner.