FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A dry heat settled over the dusty land of Freehorn. The town busy with the errands of the day's work to be done. The deputy sheriff looked out of the window in his office and admired the bustling of the townsfolk. He raised a paw to his forehead and wiped down his brow. He wondered how long the heat would last. People don't come to Freehorn to try and grow anything, but it was unusually warm. At least the heat kept people from getting into fights. Isaiah was glad of that. Meant he didn't have to do his job.

Isaiah didn't exactly volunteer to be the deputy sheriff. The sheriff of Freehorn had given him that honor when he rode out of town on business for the government. Isaiah tried to ask him what the government wanted the sheriff for but was brushed aside and given a gun and a badge. He told Isaiah not to tell the townsfolk where he was going and said he should be back in a month. That was three months ago. Isaiah tried to push that thought out of his head as he brushed his paw through the fur on the back of his head.

Despite not having the stomach for it, Isaiah did surprisingly well at keeping the townsfolk in line. When that didn't work a good kick to the head straightened out the rowdiest of the bunch. He was thankful that he never had to use his gun. Isaiah's accuracy was only good enough to hit the broad side of a barn on a clear day. There was, however, one incident where his paw hovered over his gun holster, ready to fire. Larry, an armadillo who had a reputation as the town drunk, was waving his pistol around and pointing it at people. Isaiah could still remember how his nose twitched in nervous anticipation as he tried to make the judgement call. Luckily, Larry dropped the weapon on the sheer threat alone. He was even so embarrassed that he rolled up into a tight ball. But ever since Isaiah's hands have been shaky. Larry apologized after the incident but Isaiah couldn't get it out of his head that he was that close to killing another man.

Isaiah stretched himself out in his chair and heard a few of his joints snap and crack. He wiggled his large toes and twitched his long ears as he tried to get more comfortable. The afternoon sun was straining light through the window and the glare was making it hard for him to get some rest. He took his hat off his head and put it over his muzzle to keep the sun off his face. The gentle warmth felt great as it was absorbed by his grey and brown coat of fur with little specks of black peppered along his sides. He was on the cusp of falling asleep as he heard someone burst in through his door.

SLAM!!!

"Isaiah! Isaiah! You gotta get out here! It's an emergency!"

Isaiah jumped up and nearly hit his head on the ceiling as his hat fell to the floor. He spun around and found the source of the commotion.

"Henry? What's going on?"

"No time to explain, just get out here quick!"

And with that he disappeared in a flash of white wool out the door. Isaiah sighed to himself as he picked up his hat off the floor. Henry was an excitable kid and this wasn't the first time he had come running into the sheriff's office looking for his help. Hopefully this incident was just another false alarm.

Stepping outside he could see Henry desperately trying to put his stocky body in between two other kids who looked like they were in the middle of a tussle. The boy's body getting battered from both sides as Isaiah ran over to break them up.

"Hey now! Cut that out!" Isaiah yelled over to them. The boy on the right side of Henry stopped but the boy on the left started to run away. Isaiah gave chase but before he could catch him the boy turned around and started running full speed at the deputy sheriff. Next thing he knew, Isaiah was hit by a full force jab from the kid's budding antlers. As he fell over he heard a familiar voice that confirmed who he was dealing with.

"Benajah Simon Glasgow! You come here this instant and stop terrorizing the poor deputy!", a frazzled and yet stern voice shouted at the child. Isaiah recognized the voice as belonging to Irene Glasgow. A doe that was equal parts maternal and fierce. She was always kind to Isaiah and even helped him as he got adjusted to the new job. She ran over to Benajah and scooped him up in her arms. Giving him a small smack across his velvet covered antlers she chastised him for his behavior.

"What has gotten into you boy? You know better than to go around goring random folks!"

"I was just foolin'!"

"Ain't no foolin' if the deputy got hurt! Now apologize!"

"...I'm sorry."

"What was that?"

"I'M SORRY!"

"Much better."

She turned around and made sure that Isaiah was alright as he got off the ground and dusted himself off.

"I'm really sorry Isaiah, I don't know what's gotten into him lately."

"It's fine, nothing's broken. Just knocked the breath out of me is all."

She looked down sternly at Benajah and he looked away in shame.

"I have a good mind to let the deputy here take you and throw you into jail!"

Benajah's eyes suddenly got big as he tried to meet Isaiah's gaze and plead silently for his innocence.

"That won't be necessary ma'am. Besides, I imagine you can come up with a better punishment for him than I could."

Irene grinned at that and let go of Benajah.

"Now you go on home, you hear? And don't bother washing up, cause you ain't getting any supper tonight!"

Benajah took the hint and ran off towards his mother's house. His friends long since left after they heard Irene's voice. Once he was comfortably out of earshot, Irene turned to Isaiah.

"I worry about him, Isaiah. He's such a little spitfire. Am I doing right by him?"

"Oh, I don't know anything about parenting Irene. I'm not the hare to ask about that."

"I know, but the boys look up to you. I mean ever since..."

The words hitched in her throat and her eyes seemed to be very far away for an instant before coming back into focus. She laughed and looked at Isaiah.

"Hey, why don't I buy you a drink? It's the least I can do for all the trouble you've been put through."

Isaiah waved his paw at Irene and said "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't really drink."

She looked disappointed but didn't push the issue. He knew that she was trying to find out where the sheriff went. She was hoping that he would spill the beans on where her husband was if he was drunk enough. She's tried this a couple times before but it never worked on him. He liked to avoid the raucous nature of the saloon if he could help it anyway. The noise hurt his ears and he tended to have to break up fights. So for his own comfort he avoided it whenever possible.

She smiled up at the hare and said "Well the offer is always on the table for you, if you change your mind." And with that she winked and sauntered off towards her house.

Isaiah adjusted his hat on his head so his ears weren't in the way of it and left for the sheriff's office again. It was just about time to visit Jonas at the general store for lunch. Isaiah walked out of the office with a small basket and made his way over to the store. Mr. Delaney was wildly pointing at Jonas with his paws and his tail was perfectly still. The old grey wolf always got worked up when Jonas was sitting outside his shop for too long. Isaiah hopped over to Mr. Delaney and put a paw on his shoulder.

"Don't get your blood boiling Mr. Delaney! It's not good for you!"

"Don't patronize me Isaiah! If he's not gonna buy anything, he shouldn't be in front of my store."

Jonas's voice piped up next, barely a croaking whisper, "I was a tad bit early today, Isaiah. I'm powerfully sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Jonas. Go on and head over to our usual spot. I'll meet you there shortly."

Isaiah handed the old toad a small picnic basket and he nodded. Jonas then picked himself up slowly and waddled away. His rags and clothes dragging behind him.

Isaiah turned his attention back to Mr. Delaney and lowered his voice.

"I thought we had an agreement you wouldn't bother him anymore?"

"And I thought he was going to get a job by the end of the month, Isaiah! I don't take kindly to grifters lazing about in front of my store", the wolf growled out.

Isaiah winced at those words and replied as calm as he could.

"Just leave him alone from now on, OK? He's not hurting anyone."

"Feh! You tell him to stay away from my store and I'll leave him alone. I can't afford any more loss in business from him." And with that the wolf opened his store's door and slammed it shut tight behind him.

Isaiah hopped over to the spot where Jonas was waiting and saw that he had already set out the blanket and some of the food. It wasn't anything fancy, some sandwiches and drinks, but Isaiah knew that Jonas appreciated it. He helped him finish unpacking and sat down on the blanket. They were set up underneath a tree just big enough to give them both shade from the sun as they ate. The spot was one of the only areas in Freehorn where anything green grew at all and it helped Jonas to relax. Which in turn, helped Isaiah relax.

"How's it been going, Jonas? Keeping busy?"

"As much as I can be. Not much use for an old toad like me anymore."

"That's not true Jonas, and you know it. You just have to get back on your feet!"

"I'm not as young as I used to be, Isaiah. Besides, no one wants to hire an old panhandler. Folks are still angry they didn't make their fortune."

He was right. Freehorn and the towns around it had been founded on the promise of easy money. When the money didn't come, people left. Anyone that was fool enough to stay had to build it back up from almost nothing. Folks like that let their bitterness get the better of them. Isaiah tried to get Jonas's mind off the subject.

"See anything exciting lately? I'd love to hear about your travels."

At this Jonas's face brightened and he cleared his throat so that Isaiah could hear him better.

"As a matter of fact, I was walking through the valley one day and I found this ginormous hill just sitting off in the horizon. So naturally I had to climb it!"

"Did it have gold?"

Jonas rolled his eyes at Isaiah and said "I didn't rightly check too hard, boy." He cleared his throat again and continued.

"So I climb this here hill and I get to the top and you know what I see?"

"What?", the anticipation clear in his voice.

"I see the whole valley stretched out before me. It was like looking into heaven."

"Wow! So wait, how'd you get down?"

Jonas puckered his lip and held his chin with his one hand and said "Very carefully" before busting out into a hearty laugh.

Isaiah couldn't help but laugh along with him.

They cleaned up the picnic and packed up the blanket quickly. Jonas knew that Isaiah had his afternoon patrol he had to do for the town so they said their goodbyes and Jonas waddled off towards the valley. Isaiah went back to the sheriff's station and put away the basket so he could get ready for his patrol. As he was out patrolling he made sure to stop by the telegram office to see if anything had come for him. But today was like any other day and the telegram operator said that he hadn't heard anything. Only marginally disappointed, Isaiah went back to the sheriff's office and decided to take that afternoon nap he missed.

"Maybe I'll get some word tomorrow."

He placed his hat over his face and was snoring shortly after.

#

Isaiah came out of the telegram office just as disappointed as ever. It had been three days since he last checked for any word from the Sheriff and it would soon be four months since he left. Isaiah didn't know what he would do if something had happened to the sheriff. He was doing well enough keeping the town in check but that was always on the assumption that the sheriff was going to come home. As he was walking back to the sheriff's office his ears perked up. He heard something in the distance. A rumbling? It was hard to make out. Isaiah turned around to take a closer look at where the sound was coming from. Over the horizon of the valley, he could see three figures riding on steam-powered contraptions. He couldn't make out their faces but he could just barely tell that they were wearing bandanas if he squint hard enough. He came to a fearful realization and bounded towards the center of town. If his assumptions were right, he needed to find a way to warn everyone. As he reached a spot where he knew he would be heard he grabbed his gun, pointed it to the sky, and closed his eyes and fired. He wasn't prepared for how loud the gunshot would be and managed to drop his gun on the ground from the shock. However, the sound was loud enough to cut through the noise of the townsfolk and get everyone to stare directly at him.

"What's gotten into you Deputy? You gone crazy or something? Scaring us all like that!" shouted a blue jay from the front of the crowd.

"I'm sorry everyone, but I have to be quick. I heard a group of bandits are coming this way and I need everyone to get to their homes and lock their doors." He bent over and picked up his gun off the ground. Making sure to holster it before speaking again.

"Who told you there were bandits coming?" asked a mouse from the back.

"No one. I heard them coming through the valley. They're on steam-powered contraptions and heading this way!"

"And what are you going to do when they get here?" asked a less than enthused prairie dog.

"I haven't figured that out yet, but I need you all to listen and do as I say. As your acting sheriff your safety is my job."

"I'll believe it when I see it. I'd suggest you all go back to your jobs. The deputy here probably just wants to play Sheriff for a day." said Mr. Delaney pragmatically.

"Why would I lie to you about bandits, Chuck? I'm being serious!"

"You lie to us all the time Isaiah! Where is the Sheriff right now? And don't tell me you don't know. I saw you walking back from the telegram office just today!"

The crowd broke out in hushed whispers and Isaiah could feel them look through him. Almost as if they were trying to see the sheriff's location in his panicked eyes and shuffling paws.

"I've told you before I can't tell you." he managed to stammer out. "He made me swear on my life!" he was shouting now, too upset to care that he was being watched by the whole town.

Mr. Delaney was about to offer his counterpoint when he heard raucous laughter come from the outer edges of the town. The rest of the crowd could hear it too and everyone turned towards the sound of engines clamoring through the streets. The crowd of people quickly dispersed and the bandits rode up so that they were only a few feet from the deputy.

They were a scraggly looking bunch. Their clothes made of cheap leather and stained by the dust and dirt of riding through the valley. Each one wore a red bandana around their muzzle and their hats obscured enough of their eyes so as not to be easily seen. There were three in total and all were different species. The one on the left was a bull and was built like a brick wall. The one on the right was a black bear and was skinnier than a bean pole. The one in the middle, most likely the leader, was a grey and white bobcat with a scar above his left eye. The whole town was quiet as they waited to see who would speak first, the deputy or the bandits.

The bobcat spoke up first and addressed the crowd with a sweep of his paw.

"Mighty nice of y'all to give us such a warm welcome! It'll make the next part so much easier." He spoke with a low rumble in his throat that sounded as though he was close to purring at any moment. His associates chuckled and drew their guns, pointing them into the crowd. The bull had a six-shot revolver and the bear carried a Winchester rifle. Both pieces of metal glinted in the afternoon sun with a sinister paleness.

"My name is Simon Marlin", said the bobcat. The crowd gasped and the feline's eyes lit up. Maraudin' Marlin was infamous for being one of the best outlaws in the West. He had a list of men he'd killed at least a mile long.

"So glad you've heard of me! I'm here because our boss said he left a pile of gold hidden here in your little town and we're here to collect." He made sure to put a small edge to his voice at that last word. The bull spoke up in a gruff monotone, addressing the crowd.

"It's best for everybody if you just tell us where you have it hidden."

The bear chimed in with a nervous and high-pitched, "Yeah! I'd hate to have to use this thing on such cooperative folks as yous."

One of the raccoons in the back piped up and said "There hasn't been gold in Freehorn in years! You're all crazy!"

There was the sound of a gunshot and moments later a bullet shaped hole was through the top of the raccoon's hat. Simon was twirling his pistol as the smoke gently drifted from the barrel of his gun. The raccoon took the warning and ducked back down into the safety of the crowd after checking to make sure his head fur wasn't singed.

He holstered his gun and spoke again, "Now that we got that all cleared up, we'll be taking our gold now."

Isaiah watched the whole scene in silence, frozen in fear. But he was the deputy sheriff! He shouldn't be letting these outlaws get the better of him. These people were counting on him to protect them. He took a shaky step forward with his hand on his holster and spoke in as confident a voice as he could muster.

"Now that's enough! I won't let you push these good people around like that."

Simon cocked his head to the side and saw the badge on Isaiah's shirt.

"Oh? And who's going to stop us? You don't look like much of a sure shot there." And with this Simon pointed with his gun barrel to Isaiah's paw, quivering over the holster of his gun.

Isaiah could feel himself getting lightheaded, but he forced himself to give an answer back.

"I-I w-w-will!", he gulped so loud that even the crowd could hear his nerves.

"Well, let's see if the little hare is faster on the draw."

Isaiah tensed his body and tried to get his paw to stop shaking so much. But the more he thought about it, the worse it got. His paws looked more like drunk rattlesnake rattles by the time Simon had said "Draw!".

BANG!!!

Isaiah didn't hear the words, before he could react he was face down in the dirt with his ears flopped forward. And there in the middle of town, laid Isaiah Chamberlain, dead.

Simon met the gaze of the town and asked, "Is there anyone else fool enough to challenge us? We've got plenty to spare!" The whole crowd was silent and after a few moments of everyone looking uneasily at each other, no one stepped up to challenge the outlaws.

"Good, sounds like we reached an understanding. Now, if y'all don't tell us where the gold is, we'll just have to search for it ourselves."

This time, a few people in the crowd spoke up.

"Maybe it's hidden in the bank?", cried the saloon owner.

"I bet it's stashed in the telegram office!", said the banker.

"No, no, it would have to be hidden in the saloon!" said the telegram messenger.

And so this continued until the whole town was accusing each other of holding the money in secret. The noise got to be so much that they only quieted down once the bull fired his revolver into the air. The crowd snapped back to attention and Simon was shaking his head.

"Looks like we don't have a choice but to search the whole town boys. Let's go!" He fired a few shots wildly into the air and revved his contraption to scare the crowd into a frenzy. Then he and his posse chased the townsfolk around the center of town whooping and hollering after them. In the commotion, Irene lost track of Benajah and was looking desperately for him. She could make out through the dust and smoke that he was running towards Isaiah's body.

"Benajah! BENAJAH!!! Get away from there!"

He ignored his mother, tears streaming down his face. He needed to see Isaiah for himself. He couldn't be dead. He had to be alive somehow. He just had to get close enough to check on him. He ducked and weaved through the mass of running bodies and even plowed through a few people with his antlers. He knelt down next to Isaiah and tried to shake him back awake. But the body refused to stir.

He went to poke the body with his antlers and said in between sobs, "C'mon Isaiah, you gotta get up! You gotta take me to jail!" He wiped his nose on his shirt and rubbed at his eyes. The next thing Benajah knew, he was grabbed from behind by his mother and they were running away.

The night seemed to pass quickly. The outlaws had their fun and demanded a room to stay the night so that they could start searching in the morning. The mouse that ran the inn was reluctant to give them a key but was persuaded quickly enough. The town coroner, a vulture by the name of Briggs, went to go and retrieve Isaiah;s body to be buried. But before he could get to the body he heard the voice of Simon calling out to him from the building.

"You there, birdbrain! You leave that where it lies. I want y'all to remember what happens when you cross us."

"But sir, it's going to start decaying", Briggs responded back matter-of-factly.

"Unless you want to be decayin' with him I suggest you step away from that body."

Briggs put his wings up and walked slowly away from the body. As he got closer to SImon's voice he said, "That boy's not worth dying over, I'll get to him when you fine gentleman are done with your business."

By the morning the outlaws were ready to begin their town-wide search for gold. They started in the inn, pulling up floorboards and flipping over all the beds to search for the stash. It took them the full morning to search every room in the inn.

"C'mon boys! It's not here, we'll have to check the general store next." As the outlaws sauntered out of the inn, the bull noticed something was off.

"Hey Simon, where's that rabbit fella? I don't see him out here no more."

Simon turned his head to the center of town and sure enough, his friend was right. Isaiah's body was moved. Simon's pupils narrowed in anger and he yelled out, "Well don't just stand there! Go and find it!"

The bear and the bull ran off in opposite directions and scoured the town. About a half-hour later, the bear found where he was. There was an old toad slowly and methodically digging a small hole in front of a shady tree. The bear cocked his rifle and pointed it at the old man, threatening him.

"You better put that shovel down, toad. I'd hate to have to kill yous after all!" Jonas stopped shoveling for a minute and turned his head toward the bear. He tried to talk, but it only came out in a quiet croaking whisper.

"I'm gonna bury my friend."

He turned away and went straight back to digging the hole. Isaiah's body was next to the small depression in the ground and he was flipped to be facing upright. There were strips of cloth that matched Jonas's rags put over his face to obscure it. The bear was getting impatient now.

"Now, old man, I am not playing around. I will shoot yous!"

This time when Jonas answered him, he kept digging.

"Then shoot me. Better make it quick though, I'm almost done digging."

The bear growled at that and fired his rifle right into Jonas's back.

BANG!!!

The old toad fell over in a slump, but he kept digging. Blood dripped from his chest down the handle as he slowly moved the earth. The shovel shook as he kept his pace. The bear couldn't believe his eyes. He growled out and yelled at Jonas as he emptied the rest of his barrel into him.

BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!!

The shovel fell to the ground in a clatter louder than the gunshots.

Simon and the bull had heard the noise and ran to see what had happened. The bear turned around to face them, face red and sweaty. He was panting quite a bit.

"Sorry Simon, old fool wouldn't go down!"

He wiped his head with his bandana and leaned against the tree to reload his rifle.

Simon looked at the toad under him and kicked the body to make sure he was dead.

"It happens, Ron. Just try and keep a lid on it next time."

He turned to the bull and motioned for him to grab Isaiah's body.

"Johnny, make sure you pull that back to the center of town. I don't want anyone losing track of it again."

"Sure thing, Simon", and Johnny drug Isaiah by his ankles across the ground back to the spot he died. Once Isaiah was back where everyone could see him, the outlaws moved onto the next spot to check.

They spent the afternoon looking through the telegram office and the general store. Turning over every piece of paper and every shelf of food to try and find the gold. Mr. Delaney went to step in to stop them, but got hit across the muzzle with Simon's gun. He threatened to shoot him if he tried anything funny again. It was late into the evening when the outlaws came out of the general store and went to the saloon.

The saloon was unusually quiet as the three outlaws strode in. They went to grab a table and order a drink from the waitress.

"Bottle of rum for the table ", Simon slid his gun across the wood finishing with, "on the house". The waitress ran back to the bar and grabbed a full bottle and three glasses before running back and setting them on the table.

"Thank ya kindly! Now beat it." And off she went.

"Do you think the boss was lying Simon? What if there ain't no gold?", Johnny droned out.

"Yeah? What are we gonna do if the whole thing was a setup?", Ron chimed in.

"Now there's no need to panic boys. I'm sure that somewhere in this town is a fortune we can steal!"

They all laughed heartily and poured themselves some drinks. It was about halfway into the second bottle that someone else decided to enter the saloon. He strode in confidently, wearing dark brown leather and an enormous cowboy hat. He had an air of purpose to him as he sat down at the bar and motioned to the barkeep for a drink. He ordered a whiskey on the rocks and told the barkeep to leave the bottle. The stranger was garnering attention from the other patrons, but no one could get a good look at his face. This was because the hat he wore was big enough that as he drank, it obscured his head. He had fur, it seemed, but it was patchy and stuck out at odd angles under his clothes. The stranger sat in silence and sipped his whiskey while the rest of the bar kept their attention on the outlaws. It was getting late and the three of them were well into the drink and getting rowdy.

Ron and Simon were both prodding at Johnny and the bull had enough. He pushed them off their stools and onto their backsides. The fall broke both the chairs and Simon laughed so hard he about doubled over from it.

Suddenly, a voice rose up from the corner of the bar. Icy, unfeeling, and barely audible. But somehow, the voice traveled to everyone in the bar all the same. The other patrons in the bar felt a chill go down their spine after it was over.

"Could you please keep it down? I'm trying to enjoy my drink here."

Simon stopped laughing. He quickly got up and dusted himself off, calling across the saloon to the stranger in the hat.

"Are we bothering you? I'm powerfully sorry, sir. We'll keep it down, won't we boys?"

He pulled out his gun and fired a few times into the ceiling of the saloon to scare the stranger.

BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!!

The others in the bar flinched at the gunshots, but the stranger didn't budge. He simply downed the rest of his glass of whiskey, put the glass down, and began to pour himself another shot.

The stranger spoke again, in the same even and unimpressed tone.

"It's just the noise hurts my ears, Simon. You should learn when to be quiet for a change."

The bobcat held his left hand to his chest and made a show of looking hurt.

"Oh sir, you wound me. If you know me by name then you must have heard ol' Maraudin' Marlin doesn't keep quiet for long. My enemies on the other hand? Well, no one's talked back to me yet!"

He pointed the gun at the stranger and cocked the hammer back to fire. Something was off though. Every time that Simon tried to get a clear shot of the stranger, he looked like he wasn't where he used to be. Almost as if he was moving around while sitting on the bar stool. Simon cursed the rum and kept trying to line up the shot. He got exasperated and yelled at the other two outlaws.

"Are you two just going to keep gawking or are ya gonna help me?"

Ron got up and reached for his gun but stopped when he felt a shiver from the top of his spine all the way down to his tail.

"I wouldn't do that Ron. You've got that bad temper after all. Might miss me if you're not careful."

Ron growled at the stranger and aimed his gun at them, but then lowered it just as quickly.

"Say, how'd yous know my name?"

Johnny had seen enough and picked up the table over his head. The rum bottle and glasses spilled on the top and as he hurled the table, drops of expensive alcohol splashed off the legs onto the floor. The table hit the end of the bar with a sickening crunching sound and for a second, the bar was completely silent.

Then Johnny felt the cooling tingle travel down his back before a familiar voice spoke again.

"That was a close one, Johnny. I'll give that to you. Wasn't expecting you to throw the whole damn table."

The stranger still sat at the bar, but he had somehow managed to move closer to the outlaws so that he was at the opposite end of the bar. He was still sitting, and aside from a few bits of wood and dust from the nearby exploded table, looked the same. He took off his hat and dusted off the top and brim before laying it on the bar. The other patrons that were watching gasped when they could see what was under the hat.

The stranger had long and floppy ears that hung down to either side. His face was rough, but familiar in a way. It looked as though the years weren't kind to him, with wrinkles upon wrinkles on their snout and a set of whiskers that were crooked at best. But that wasn't what had caused such a commotion. No, the people were surprised to see a large rack of deer horns jutting out of the top of his head. They looked much too large to fit under the hat, but there they were just the same. The stranger shook his head and looked up at Simon. This time the cold shiver gripped his heart as the stranger spoke.

"I thought after you killed Carson you'd have made a better leader, Simon. Guess he was right about you after all."

Simon swallowed hard at the mention of his old boss's name. He went to say something in response, but the stranger cut him off. His voice sounding exactly like Carson's as he met Simon's gaze.

"I suppose you must not have wanted to share the gold, right Simon? That's why you killed me. Too bad you'll never find it, or be able to spend it."

"You s-shut y-y-your mouth! You c-c-an't be Carson! It's a t-t-trick!", Simon stuttered out.

But the stranger kept going.

"I missed last time, Simon. I won't miss again. Now, draw."

Simon's eyes narrowed in and his fur stood on end as he went to pull the trigger, but he couldn't quite line up the shot with a bullet through his left eye.

bang.

The shot was clean and Simon fell to the ground, dead.

The stranger hadn't gotten up from his chair. He sat while the pistol he used left a small trail of smoke, curling and wisping in the air. The scent was distinct, ashy, instead of gunpowder. No one saw him draw the weapon, but there it was plain as day. The stranger put the pistol on the bar table and went back to his drink.

Ron went to bend down and check on Simon. After he took his pulse, he looked over to Johnny and shook his head. Johnny spoke up first and tried to match the even tone of the stranger.

"Well sir, you realize this means we're gonna have to kill ya right?"

The stranger spoke in Carson's voice as he replied.

"You can sure as hell try, Johnny. No ones stopping ya."

The next thing everyone else saw was Johnny charging towards the stranger, horns down and pointed at the stranger's chest. Ron took aim with his rifle, paw ready on the trigger. The stranger finished his drink in a massive swig, threw the rest of the bottle at Ron, and dropped to his knees. Ron managed to dodge the bottle as it shattered behind him in a spray of glass and booze, but lost his shot. Johnny on the other hand, was experiencing how it felt to be gored himself. For the stranger had knelt down and put his head just slightly forward, so that Johnny would run into their horns. Ron took aim and fired at the stranger letting loose a volley of shots one after the other.

BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!!

When the smoke cleared, he could see that he managed to hit every single shot. Unfortunately, they all landed into Johnny's back. The stranger had managed to pick Johnny up and spin him in front. He slowly stood up and bucked his whole body backwards, sending Johnny's limp body flying behind him.

CRASH!!!!

He landed at the end of the bar, on top of the smashed table. Ron looked up at the imposing figure of the stranger. The horns tipped with Johnny's fresh blood glinted in the dimly lit saloon. His eyes staring through Ron, as if judging him. And then Ron had a frightening realization. He knew.

The bear ran out of the saloon as fast as he could, doors swinging wildly behind him. The stranger walked over to the bar to grab his gun, paid his tab, and walked out. He kept walking through the center of town, slowly pursuing Ron as he ran for his contraption to get away. Ron looked back and saw that the stranger was following him. Since he wasn't paying attention, he managed to trip and fall flat on his face. The stranger kept moving towards him. The commotion had managed to get everyone else to come out of hiding and soon the whole town watched. Ron picked himself up and tried to stand his ground. His gun shook in his paws as he missed shot after shot on the stranger. Once he was close enough, the stranger thrust his head forward and grabbed Ron's gun between his antlers. With a simple twist, he sent the gun into the air. The stranger picked Ron up by the skin on his neck and lifted him into the air. He pulled back a piece of his coat to show a dusty and worn deputy badge. He spoke again, but this time in a different voice. One that was more familiar to the townsfolk of Freehorn.

"I won't kill you. I want to see you get justice for killing my best friend."

He threw Ron high into the air and kicked him square in the chest. The impact sent him skidding across the ground and knocked him out cold.

"That was for Jonas."

The stranger looked out over the town and saw them staring. He paid it no mind and walked over to Irene and Benajah. The stranger bent over and whispered something to Irene and though she seemed surprised, she nodded. Before he turned to go, the stranger ruffled Benajah's hair through his horns. And though he cried, he had the biggest smile on his face.

He walked over to Mr. Delaney, who looked as pale as a ghost, and handed him the keys to the jail cell. He pointed to Ron and left. No one said a word as the stranger rode out of town. No one quite had the words to describe it. The stranger rode in silence past the bank, the saloon, and the telegram office. They rode in silence past the general store. And they rode in silence past the tree on the edge of town, with a small lump of uneven dirt and a makeshift wooden cross from which hung tatters of cloth. But when he came to the top of the valley and could see over the whole land, he spoke once more.

"You were right, it is beautiful."