/bootleg/ 2022 Week of Terror: Jacky


                                            >"Hey."

                                            "Eh."

                                            >"Heey."

                                            "Meh."

                                            >"Heeey."

                                            "Me-bleeeeeeeeeeeh..."

                                            >I feel a strong arm wrap around my chest.

                                            >"Hey Jack."

                                            "Hey 'non."

                                            >I inhale hard and taste the morning air.

                                            >Our ranch has grown beautifully over the years.

                                            >We moved over thousands of miles to get where we are now.

                                            >No one around knows what we used to be.

                                            >"How about you girls get into town? We're getting low on some things. That barn wall needs another dozen planks too, else the cows are gonna get nipped at by a coyote."

                                            >A barn.

                                            >A house.

                                            >Dozens of acres for our goats, cows and chickens.

                                            >A study being built for Sparky's magical stuff.

                                            >And a big green house for Dashie.

                                            >This could never have happened without all of us pulling together.

                                            "Mmm... but only if we do that, I get to slip into bed with you again."

                                            >"Of course. Why would I want my tamale any less hot?"

                                            >I can feel a hand rub across my belly.

                                            >"Besides... doctor said that you got maybe another few weeks of work in you before you gotta take it easy. You gals load up, we'll be good for another three months. Then when we do another town run, you can feed the animals and work on the fence."

                                            >Even though I'm no good with a hammer, Anon trusts me completely to do things.

                                            >Of course, with his help I know I can do anything.

                                            >With little help, Anon and I get the wagon emptied and ready for a town run.

                                            >Sparky and Dashie join me by getting hitched up to the front of the wagon.

                                            >It has a few bullet holes in it but it has saved us more times than any of us could count.

                                            "I'll be back b'fore you know it, you better be good now!"

                                            >I shout out to him as we gallop off.

                                            >We all have our little scars here and there.

                                            >But together we're stronger than ever.

                                            >Ain't no one has caught us.

                                            >And after so long?

                                            >No one ever will.

                                            >We make it to town and all break up.

                                            >I usually get the hardware and tools.

                                            >Dashie always got our food and clothing.

                                            >Sparky...

                                            >Well, she used to get our ammunition and demolition gear.

                                            >Now she just gets us our books, games and puzzles.

                                            >We all used to buy and sell things like that.

                                            >We all know how to haggle just enough to be polite.

                                            >I barely even remember the last time I had to threaten someone.

                                            >"Hello, ma'am. Mind if I have a quick word?"

                                            >A stranger from behind?

                                            >Well, I am starting to show.

                                            >Maybe he's just wanting to help.

                                            >I turn around, happy as can be.

                                            >The first thing I notice is the two revolvers on his hips.

                                            >A very well polished 1858 Navy.

                                            >And a freshly oiled Model 7.

                                            >My ears reflexively fold back.

                                            >This man is all business, even if his clothing ain't professional at all.

                                            "Y-yes? Might fine day we're havin'. You kinda spooked me there with those there weapons."

                                            >The man, amused, looks down at his guns.

                                            >"Aw, these? They ain't for more than snakes and coyotes."

                                            >He kneels down toward me, making me take a few nervous steps back.

                                            >There's murder in this man's soul.

                                            >"Now, I'm new to this area and I, uh..."

                                            >He licks his lips.

                                            >"I'm looking for some bad folk. Could you help me?"


                                            "H... help you?"

                                            >I need to leave.

                                            >All of us needs to leave.

                                            "How do you figure a mare with foal can help you?"

                                            >"Well, you see..."

                                            >The man breathes in through his mouth and out his nose.

                                            >He shifts to the side and pulls out a paper.

                                            >By the wrinkling and weathering on it, it has to be at least eight or nine years old.

                                            >He rotates it and I feel my face lose all blood.

                                            >It's a picture of me.

                                            >It's a picture of me, and Anon.

                                            >And Sparky and Dashie too.

                                            >"Y'see, there once was a mean ol' gang. Used to go from city to city, causin' all sorts of mayhem."

                                            >His words are deliberate and slow.

                                            >He's watching me, I just know it.

                                            >Of course, I don't have anything on me but my hat.

                                            >And for God's sakes, I ain't got long before I balloon out to look like I ate a pony.

                                            >"Now, they weren't much but little rascals and petty pickpockets. But one day, these gals go and find themselves an honest to goodness man by the name Anonymous."

                                            >My tail flicks at that filthy man saying his name with such disgust.

                                            >How dare he?

                                            >"Now. Soon as ol' Anon shows up. They start getting bigger. Bolder. Sooner than later, they get the gumption to think they can take what they want."

                                            >The man narrows his eyes at me.

                                            >Any pleasantries are gone and dead.

                                            >"They go and... rob this little ol' supply store. Right along a trail. Used to be a hub and was known for having whole lots of cheeses and furs. Especially the cheese."

                                            >What do I do?

                                            >Both of his hands are on the paper.

                                            >There's no way he could draw before I headbutt him to the chin and then buck it clean off.

                                            >But I can't do that.

                                            >Not with so many people starting to pay attention.

                                            >No.

                                            >He's doing this so others can hear, isn't he?

                                            >"They go and murder the owner of that fine establishment. And his very own security guards."

                                            >The man's upper lip trembles just long enough for me to pick up on it.

                                            >"Now. Those guards? They was the owner's brothers. And that owner?"

                                            >I can feel myself getting ill.

                                            >God save me.

                                            >"He was my grandpa. The only family I had."

                                            >He crumples up the paper.

                                            >His hands are trembling to the point he can't even roll it back up, and tosses it to the side.

                                            >"You "Spring Hoof" Jacky. Ain't ya."

                                            >I haven't heard that name in years.

                                            >I don't have the courage to speak.

                                            >The man seems almost disappointed by my lack of action.

                                            >"This all that's left of you, huh? That little hellfire, "Gun Spark". She ain't got no guns or bombs on her neither. And that little "Bitch of Balch Springs"."

                                            >His face contorts to an expression of confusion.

                                            >But only for a second.

                                            >"Why... you all look like you've been domesticated. Buying food and... and planks. Like normal, decent folk. With a little spring in your belly as well as your step."

                                            >He stands up.

                                            >His hand slides to the side and hovers over the ivory grip of the Model 7

                                            >"Now you little... rats. You got some worth to you. But instead, you're gonna tell me where Anon is. And I'll leave you be, on account of your condition. If you ain't lying to me."


                                            >The men standing around me.

                                            >Only now do I realize that they're with him.

                                            >Six of them.

                                            >There's no way I can do anything without getting plugged full of holes.

                                            "W... what do you want with him, anyway?"

                                            >I try to size them up but my edge has been lost.

                                            >Stroked, loved and...

                                            >"Domesticated"...

                                            >Out of me.

                                            >"Folk seem to think he's the leader. And I tend to agree. 'sides, none of you got what it takes anymore. But that man? He's a devil alright."

                                            "You keep that man's name out of your mouth if you know what's good for you. You ain't know diddly about his honor, neither."

                                            >I retort with a rocksteady voice.

                                            >The voice of Spring Hoof Jacky.

                                            >The words of a mare that bucked a rampaging buffalo to it's grave with a single strike.

                                            >Some of the men chuckle.

                                            >The head bounty hunter does as well.

                                            >"Oh? Is that right? Why, is ol' Anonymous a saint these days? Have him some need of..."

                                            >The gunman leers over my wagon.

                                            >"...planks, canned strawberries and enough iron nails to wear them like a suit? Oh, I'm sure he's a righteous, God-fearing man now. Father-to-be, even."

                                            >His comment catches me off guard.

                                            >My falter tells him exactly what he wants to know.

                                            >"Heh... so that's how that is, huh..."

                                            "That's right. That's how it is. He is a righteous man, and he's going to continue to be righteous."

                                            >"If that's so..."

                                            >He steps back and holds his hands up to the sky.

                                            >"God, forgive me for... besmirching this murderer's good name! Forgive me for insulting the honor of a... a whore horse fucking thief! I dare say, o' Lord! If You see it befitting, strike me down in Your name!"

                                            >He shouts above, unable to stop himself from giggling part way through his blasphemy.

                                            >He waits a moment before looking down at me.

                                            >"...See?"

                                            >In that moment, he erupts in flame, dazzling white and encompassing him from boot to beard.

                                            >He doesn't even have time to scream before crumpling into his own remains.

                                            >The other gunmen watch in stunned disbelief.

                                            >Only one loses his wit and flees.

                                            >The others also ignite into pyres so hot I have to shrink away and close my eyes.

                                            >I feel a pair of hooves grab and drag me away.

                                            >It's Dashie!

                                            >"They're at the ranch, Jacky, we need to move."

                                            "W-what?!"

                                            >Gunfire rings out, the concussive boom causing me to jump.

                                            >That was a shotgun.

                                            >"Come an' get us, you tit-suckin' pigs! You think I ain't gonna get every last one of you?!"

                                            >Sparky's manic, blood-enraged shriek stirs you to action.

                                            >Dashie and I speed off as fast as we can with the wagon attached.

                                            >Sparky is on the wagon.

                                            >From the noises and the screams, we're being chased.

                                            >But she's holding them off.

                                            >She's never used her magic, except for when she's angry.

                                            >Most folk thought she was just packing explosives.

                                            >They never learned just how right they were.

                                            >By the time we reach the ranch, I see damn near two dozen bodies sprawled across the grounds.

                                            >None of them are Anon.


                                            "S-sparky, Dashie, let's go! We gotta find Anon!"

                                            >"Sparking needs my help, go on Jacky."

                                            >Dashie's dry tone has never wavered, no matter how bad it got.

                                            >This is just another...

                                            >Another setback.

                                            >I gallop to the house.

                                            >It has countless holes all throughout, including a small fire outside from a failed attempt to firebomb the structure.

                                            "A-Anon?! Where are you?!"

                                            >The air is thick with gunsmoke and death.

                                            >It's that lip curling, bitter scent of spilt thick blood and voided bowels.

                                            >That nagging sensation at the back of the head that tells you that the bodies on the ground couldn't possibly be human because of how unreal they look.

                                            >I used to be able to stomach all of this.

                                            >Now I feel like I'm on the urge of vomiting, crying and fainting.

                                            >When did I get so weak?

                                            >I rush into our bedroom.

                                            >No Anon there.

                                            >The guest room.

                                            >No...

                                            >The...

                                            >The armory.

                                            >As much as we hoped that things would die with the rest of history, we kept a very well-stocked room.

                                            >Enough that one man could hold off a siege on his own.

                                            >And he did!

                                            >I skid to a stop, only just short of ramming the kneeling Anonymous.

                                            "Anon, you did it! Quick, we gotta go, we-"

                                            >Only now do I realize.

                                            >The reason why I skidded.

                                            >Blood.

                                            >Anon's blood.

                                            >The four exit wounds visible to me are the culprit.

                                            >I don't even try to measure where he could have gotten hit.

                                            "A-ANON?! G-GET UP!"

                                            >The man lets out a displeased sound.

                                            >It comes out as a wet gurgle.

                                            >Judging from his breathing, he got hit in the lungs at least once.

                                            >"M... more on the way."

                                            >Thick lumps of coagulating blood spill from his mouth and onto the ground.

                                            >I can't bring myself to look at anything other than his back.

                                            >I can't...

                                            >I can't be seeing this.

                                            >I can't be hearing this.

                                            >"Army. C-cavalry."

                                            >He wheezes from the strain put on him from the syllables.

                                            >In his condition, with the guns around him that we've collected over the years all empty or out of reach.

                                            >There's no time.

                                            >I can't reload all of these in time for him.

                                            >How do I even get him to the wagon?

                                            "A-Anon, we... we ain't got much time left. We can still make it! We..."

                                            >That's what I want to say to the man I love.

                                            >Instead it all comes out as frantic sobs and some semblance of a sentence.

                                            >"...'mber the name we decided on."

                                            >As if that was the last straw, he lurches down to pick up a bloodied revolver.

                                            >It is his treasure, won in a shooting contest.

                                            >His Whitneyville Dragoon.

                                            >I had never seen him miss with it.

                                            >Retching up a lump of blood, he grasps the redwood grip and shuffles his way almost two steps toward the window.

                                            >A feral growl bubbles up and his hand finds a seat on the windowsill.

                                            >"S... six. My six."

                                            >It wasn't instinct that led me to leave his side for the final time.

                                            >It was experience.

                                            >It was our bond.

                                            >Our mutual understanding that our child took all precedent.

                                            >Even if it meant our lives.

                                            >The years that my eyes saw, from the microsecond my legs moved to the last fraction of man I will ever see, has left me shocked to the point of numb.


                                            >The cavalry are in sight, as soon as I leave the house.

                                            >They're already firing on the ranch.

                                            >Going off of the screams, it means Sparky has gone full incendiary.

                                            >I can see men on mounts erupting into a pillar of flame so high it can be seen from heaven.

                                            >Multiple pillars go up, each one higher and broader than the rest.

                                            >They know too...

                                            >They know that at this point, I can't help.

                                            >I have to run.

                                            >None of this would be worth it if something happened to the baby.

                                            >I'm sorry.

                                            >God forgive me for turning my back on you.

                                            >I run as much as I can until I black out.

                                            >The last thing I remember hearing is Anon's Dragoon cry.

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >"Well now. I guess we didn't get her."

                                            >It's dark.

                                            >I must have ducked into a ditch.

                                            >While the sun has gone down, I can still make out the vague shapes of...

                                            >Those are the pillars of fire.

                                            >How could those still be burning?

                                            >I can only barely make out a figure.

                                            >Holding a lantern in one hand.

                                            >And a gun in the other.

                                            >"Young lady, I must say. Your man certainly knows his arms."

                                            >He kneels down to me, holding the lantern up.

                                            >He's some...

                                            >Just some old man, in some officer's uniform.

                                            >He holds up the gun.

                                            >It...

                                            >No.

                                            >It's Anon's Dragoon.

                                            >"Shot to Hell and yet... he still took down three of my best men. All to the heart."

                                            >I can't even muster a reply.

                                            >Almost everything has been lost.

                                            >"You know. We always thought that, ah... maybe some unicorn cursed this. To shoot only the heart. But, you know the funny thing..."

                                            >He sounds almost jovial.

                                            >"Despite the rumors and what I personally bore witness to. When I picked up this... artifact. And shot me two homicidal ponies..."

                                            >Oh no.

                                            >Don't say it.

                                            >"The rounds would only go to their heads. Maybe it really was skill, after all."

                                            >The man stands, sighing.

                                            >"Now I do apologize. I do not at all take any pride in this. Contrary to my tone this is, in fact, a night that will haunt me for the rest of my days. I have heard my men scream in ways I will never truly forget. And I have to remember that it is unbecoming of me to hold a personal grudge, seeing as you simply ran. And abandoned your little gang."

                                            "P... please. No, I... I'm pre-"

                                            >He aims the gun at me.

                                            >"After we take your bodies in and confirm identities, you will all be buried together. Same with all of the other robbers, thieves and man-eating psychopaths we've caught. May God have mercy on your soul."

                                            >I-

                                            >