The rusty barred door of our cell shut with a tinny clang. The tittering of deputies echoed after they disappeared around the corner.

This was a substantially larger building than the one-room jail in Elkhart. The cells had their own wing. One of the others contained a snoring wayfarer, and I reckoned as the festival heated up, a few more would earn a stay.

My guns were taken, yet again. Belongings too. Including Shar’s mirror. Always a silver lining if you look for it.

At least they didn't strip me down. I did get quite the kick out of watching one fool of a deputy rummaging through my stuff and getting all self-murdering when he handled the cursed harmonica. But just like in Elkhart, he mistook it for being gross and worthless and left it where it was.

Dale slumped against the stone wall. He'd regained his wits but seemed completely dejected over what happened.

"I told you we'd get a room," I said. Didn't even get a smirk out of him. "What? It smells better than a stable. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph would've wished for something so pleasant."

"Why couldn't we just find another way?" he groaned. "Now they know I'm here. Culpepper’s right. I deserted my post. I could be hanged."

"Oh, relax. Nobody's gonna hang you." I moved to sit next to him.

"You don't know that."

It’s true. I didn't. The intricacies of the law are beyond me—which they are to most, considering every god-forsaken town out here has their own made-up rules. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad for more feds to make things consistent this far west.

Dale's chin dipped to his chest. Whether out of exhaustion or disappointment, I'm unsure. I'd wager both.

"Either way," he said, "now we ain't never gonna get that bounty."

I considered telling him about the hawk I'd seen, but decided against it. He was agitated enough. Plus, I suppose it could've been a coincidence. The world has plenty of hawks in it after all. Still, a bird like that out at night, making no noise, just staring at the bank as if it were the eyes of the Mind-drifter. If the Frozen Trio wasn't here yet, they were close.

See Shar? If I hadn’t caused a ruckus I never would've been thrown outside and, maybe, seen the hawk.

"You think some flimsy metal bars are gonna keep us from divine retribution?" I asked. "Not a chance."

"Divine." Dale scoffed. It was the first time I sensed cynicism in the man. Getting the crap beat out of you can do that. "First you 'rise' from the dead—then you play five-finger with your eyes closed like a maniac. Get us locked up. I'm more thinking you're a devil, Mr. Crowley."

I nearly laughed. Matter of fact, I might've.

"Naw. I ain't no devil." I placed my hand upon his shoulder, only remembering then that a chunk of my middle finger was missing. I searched my pocket, finding it there and glad it hadn't rolled out into the mud.

"All I know is something ain't right, and you ain't telling me,” Dale said.

"I'm on your side, Dale. You're either gonna have to trust me or part ways. Wasn’t me who invite you, after all.”

He didn't look up. Just fixed a thousand-mile gaze on the floor. I'm guessing this was his first time ever being on this side of bars. Adorable. I was there to witness his right of passage into manhood.

"Sheriff Daniels always warned me I was too trusting," he whined.

"Be that as it may, it's better to trust wrongly than never to trust at all."

"I think that's love you're thinking of.”

"Regardless…" I tapped the wall above us. "Look out there."

He didn't move. I gave him a slap.

"C'mon. Look."

He groaned and glanced up.

I nodded to the window.

Reluctantly, he stood and followed my urging to look out the barred slit of a window at the top of the cell. The room was half underground, but through that narrow opening was a street-level view of the town square and Dufaux's Bank and Trust. I could hear the geyser shoot off and splatter water onto stone.

"Well, I'll be," he said.

I smirked. "See, we ain't missing a thing. Plus, we get a roof over our heads. Timp's gonna be jealous when we get out."

"What if they hit the bank while we're locked in here?"

I swallowed. I hadn't quite thought of that yet. The key was on the on-duty deputy, completely out of sight in another room. Even if I dislocated my shoulder, I couldn't reach through bars that far.

One idea. I could tell the next important person I saw that I'd spotted the same hawk that was flying around with the Frozen Trio.

Sure…

Hey, mister, I saw a bird on the rooftop while you were arresting me. Pretty sure he's magic.

I sighed.

It was the best idea I had, and it was a shit one. It would need to be good enough for the moment. Being honest, sitting there on what I imagined was a cold, stone floor—it was nice. I needed that brief respite. A quiet night. Maybe I'd even catch a snooze.

Worst case, the outlaws hit, and I could throw my body at the cell door with such reckless force I'd break it off its hinges. Might snap my neck doing it, but I'd just crack it right back into place.

"Don't worry about that," I said. "Let's just try and get some shut-eye."

Dale slid back down, closed his eyes, and leaned his head on the wall. Then he opened one eye. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Sleep. You know, after you…"

"Shoot a man?"

He winced. I breathed out through my teeth. Sheriff Daniels' fate was still eating away at him.

"Easy,” I said. “You just do it, knowing that when your eyelids peel back, nothing can change what's come before."

"Right… Okay."

I nodded encouragingly, and he gave it a try. Maybe I really was going soft, caring about Dale’s wellbeing. But wasn't that what God’s hand was supposed to be about? Helping others?

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"You laughing at me up there?" I whispered to the ceiling, hoping Shar heard me, wherever she was. "Yeah, I'm sure you are."

A light whistle in Dale’s breathing told me he’d found his way to sand-land. With him asleep, I removed my finger from my pocket and pressed it back into position. It wasn't an immediate process, but this wasn't my first time losing an appendage. If I held it there firmly for some time, the skin would eventually mesh and heal itself.

If that worked for something bigger like a leg or my head—I wasn't yet sure.

While holding it in place, I did like I'd told Dale and shut my eyes. I may not get physically tired, but any man, living or dead, gets weary and worn down. Luckily, my benefactors left me with the ability to sleep to pass time. Never a deep, wholesome slumber, mind you. More like an afternoon siesta, always somewhat aware of my surroundings.

Presently, it was the fracas of a busy Revelation Springs night. All the fun I was missing out on. Drunken arguments and fights, dogs barking at stray cats. Dares to take a dip in the town square spring.

No gunshots, though… yet.

I didn't have visions of the day Ace killed me this time either. That was a relief. More often than not, that's what I'd get. Not sure why it couldn't ever be a nice romp with some pretty lady or a night of merriment with Big Davey after a score—God rest his soul. The thought of how he'd died dropped a fifty-pound weight in my gut…

"Hola. Hello. Is there anybody here I can speak with?" A Latina woman's voice cut through the darkness of slumber after who-knows-how-long. At first, I thought it was a vision of some sort. But no. It was real life. "Excuse me?"

She was far off, probably poking her head through the station's front door. A loud knock got the deputy on guard duty to startle awake. He started to yell about being closed to the public, then his voice got soft and gentlemanly. I couldn't make out everything they were saying, but it sounded flirtatious.

Was probably some lady of the night looking for an easy bit of cash from a bored man. I could only imagine how dull it got, sitting around, guarding. Despite my last few days, bank robberies and jailbreaks were a pretty rare occurrence in a town like this.

I tried to listen closer just for some entertainment of my own. It seemed the harder I tried to hear, the louder the vagabond in the cell next to me snored. However, after a few minutes, the voices got quiet anyway. Did the lady take the deputy out back for some fun? God almighty… I can't even recall what that sort of fun felt like. Lucky bastard.

Then I heard footsteps. Loud. From within the station.

By now, Dale was snoring like a freight train, too. I crawled along the floor to look out. My finger was back in place, mostly. Just a tad crooked.

I clasped the bars and peered through. Probably looked like a mad man. If I had a beating heart, it would have skipped when I saw who came walking around the corner.

A gorgeous Latina woman with dark hair, eyes as green as the Garden, and sparkling the same. Rosa Massey. She wore frontier clothes—a great departure from the last time I'd laid eyes on her in Dead Acre when she'd been dressed in funeral blacks. Her sleeves were rolled up, making visible the snake-and-dagger tattoo on her left forearm. She even had a pistol holstered at her hip—a fine one at that. Looked like a regular outlaw queen.

And spinning on her slender finger was a key ring. Saints and elders, that smile. If in the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve's weakness was a shiny red apple? Her smile was my apple. All at once, beautiful, impish, and seductive.

I'd done Earth a service saving her back when she was a child. And then again, as an adult, last time we met a few months back in Dead Acre. And like the Almighty with that first man and woman, I was certain Shar wasn't happy about this turn of events. Or had she led us together again on purpose. To tempt me? Test me?

“Why Mrs. Massey," I said. "As I live and breathe." I was too stunned to immediately recognize the irony of that particular phrase escaping my lips. "How?"

"Back at that saloon. I knew I recognized you," she said. "I was just entering when you started that fight.”

Yet another benefit of me drawing attention to myself, apparently.

"Started it!" I protested playfully. "Lies."

"Well, you sure didn't finish it." She laughed at my expense. Anyone else did that, they might've earned a curse. With her? I just chuckled right along.

"Wait a… I—" I shook my head. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving you, it seems." She leaned against the bars and started testing keys. Taking her time, too. Like she was completely unconcerned about any lawmen stopping her.

The sound of scraping and clanking metal seemed to rouse Dale. I heard him yawn. "Who is…" He paused. I glanced back and saw his mouth agape at the sight of her. "That?"

"Our way out," I responded.

Wasn't what I planned, but Shar's always talking about following the path laid out before me. Somehow, someway, that I won't question, Rosa Massey was right where I needed her. That probably said something more than I was willing to admit at the time.

Rosa found the right key and slid it deeper into the lock. I awaited the audible click, but she stopped.

With that heart-halting smile on her face, she said, "I let you out, it makes us even for Dead Acre."

"That's fine," I said. "But that doesn't make us even-even. I'm still up by one on my count. Or did you forget when I saved you and your momma way back when? Got myself shot to dea—" I caught myself. That Rosa. She untied my tongue and confused every part of me. I had to watch losing my wits around her. "Well, I got shot a lot."

"Si. Eres mi salvador." Again with that smile. "So now I'll only owe you one."

"That's a deal." I stuck my hand out through the bars, and she shook it. If only I could've felt it.

"Wait, wait, wait. Who are you?" Dale said.

"This here is Rosa Massey," I answered.

"An old friend," she said at the same time.

"Oh, are we friends now?” I asked. “Do friends make friends cancel out favors before breaking them out of jail?"

"Good ones do." She smirked. "Do you want out or not?"

"By all means."

The lock clicked a couple times more, and then the rusty door swung open. The moment I stepped out, Rosa threw her arms around me. I didn't expect it, so I froze. Barely got my arms up to hug her back before she'd pulled away.

Sure, we had a history. Almost like we were fated to keep running into each other or something beyond my understanding. But there've been very few people in my life who would hug me.

A man can only take so many years of loneliness before it wears on him. And I was growing weary.

"You coming?" she said to Dale.

He blinked, then looked at me, then blinked again.

"Well?" I said.

"If we break out early, we'll only get in more trouble," he said softly.

"What's more?" I said with a laugh. "We're already in jail."

"A better chance at hanging?"

I blew a raspberry and waved him off. "They only threw us in for the fun of it, Dale. Otherwise, they’d have left more than one guard. Shit, you're a deputy. You know how this works. Tomorrow morning they'll forget why we were even here and let us out anyway."

"Then why don't we just wait until morning?"

"He's a deputy?" Rosa asked.

"Not here." I ground my teeth. "Okay, fine, Dale. Maybe it wouldn't be that simple. But still."

"We damaged that saloon pretty good," he said.

"They don't give two shits about Picklefinger's windows or you ditching Elkhart. Hell, they probably put you at the post knowing that was the safest place in the damn region now that it'd already been hit."

As soon as I said it, I wished I could grab the words before they reached his ears.

"Oh," he muttered.

"Now, Dale. You know I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's true. I…" His head and shoulders sagged. "Even still, failure that I am, I'm meant to uphold the law, not break it."

I felt bad for saying what I said, but I didn't have time to watch a grown man sulk. I liked Dale fine enough, but a crisis of identity was the last thing I needed to be dealing with.

"You want to stay? Stay,” I said. “You can stare out that window at the bank as long as you want. But here." I tossed him the keys. "Anything happens, you use those, get your gun, and shoot three times like we talked about. Then you go get your revenge for what happened. Got it?"

He stared at the keys for a few seconds. Nodded. I didn't give him a chance to second guess things before I turned and headed away with Rosa. I won’t lie, deep down part of it may've been that I wanted some time alone with her to reconnect.

"How'd you get past him anyway?" I asked as we rounded the corner.

She didn't need to answer, because there, in the station's main room, I saw how. The deputy was collapsed forward onto his desk, fast asleep.

"Slipped something into his mouth," Rosa said.

I gazed at her. I was surprised, but also not. I honestly didn't really know that much about her besides that I enjoyed her company.

"Should I ask what?" I said. “Or how?”

"Do you want to?"

"Not really."

She smiled and leaned on what looked like the sheriff's desk. I'm pretty sure I got caught staring at the way the muscles on her forearm stretched, making her snake tattoo seem to wriggle.

"Your guns are over there," she said, snapping her fingers then pointing to a storage rack in the corner. "I recognized them."

"Got a good eye." I walked over to retrieve my armaments and supplies from the second law building in however many days. Things weren't going very smoothly for me lately. But all my effects seemed to be in order, even the silver plate. I took extra care to avoid staring into its reflection. Now wasn’t a time I wanted to deal with Shar’s… however she’d react.

And I didn't feel one bit bad about grabbing a spare rifle to replace mine.

Maybe these weren't the lawmen who took it, but fair was fair. And she was newer than mine had been too, though a Winchester all the same. No reason to change when you're already using the best.

When I turned around, Rosa was already holding the front door open and waiting for me. You know what they say, an open door is as good as an invitation. I was beginning to think there was more to this than just settling scores.

"You coming?" she goaded, her finger wagging me over like a serpent.