The bow was simple, made from softwood, but its arrows would fly straight enough. A floppy three-eared Jacklow was nibbling on a patch of new-growth ferns about twenty yards away. It was a thin creature, aged and used to the rough terrain. Neb took a deep breath, then held it as she loosed the arrow.

It flew straight, lodging itself in the front shoulder of the small native animal, instantly bringing the Jacklow to the ground.

“Nice!” a voice said over her shoulder.

Neb jumped, grabbing her bow and swinging it back like a bat. She looked up to see White-Eye sitting on his horse no more than five yards from her.

“Damn. Your horse is quiet,” Neb said.

“I didn’t want to scare the Jacklow,” White-Eye replied.

“You scared me,” Neb said.

White-Eye turned his horse around, moving just as quietly as he had ridden up. “Captain Joel has me riding out for a bit. He’s sending Virgi up to help you watch the cattle.”

He then kicked his horse and rode off. White-Eye used to be a Ranger with Colonel Virgoan Lamoure and Captain Jugo Joel. He had settled with them on the ranch after the frontier wars ended. Unlike the other rangers, he was mixed with native blood, but not from the west. White-Eye’s parents were from the civilized tribes in the northeast.

He had shown Neb a picture of his parents once. They were both dressed in fancy green suits with high collars, even his mother. However, White-Eye seemed wilder than them. She couldn’t imagine him wearing a suit. The only thing she had ever seen him wear were various animal skins, tanned and held together with leather strings. Neb thought it seemed rather uncomfortable, but White-Eye never seemed to mind.

Neb turned to look at the Jacklow. It was flipping its back legs, trying to move, but it went nowhere. She turned to gaze out over the field, letting the Jacklow take its last breaths. The cattle were grazing, eating the same type of small ferns that the Jacklow had been. The field was covered in cattle, thousands of them. No buyer had come this far south in years, and their stock had just been growing.

In a few moments, the Jacklow was dead. Neb walked toward it and used her short knife to give it a quick field dressing. She thought about skinning it and saving the hide for White-Eye, but that would take too long, and she couldn’t be dismounted for much longer since she was watching the cattle alone. She grabbed it by its neck and started to walk back to her horse.

A cowgirl wasn’t supposed to be caught off her horse. That was the one thing Captain Joel had been clear about when Virgi took her in. Virgi seemed to care less about being mounted and often dismounted himself, but he seemed to care less about most things than the Captain.

However, Neb always preferred walking to riding. She knew it was important to be on horseback, even the fastest ranch hand couldn’t turn the cattle if they started to run if they were on foot. And being caught without a horse in the vast western plain was certain death. But this wasn’t the vast western plain. It was their quiet ranch. These cattle wouldn’t run. They had lived their whole lives here at this ranch and had nowhere to run to other than the ranch itself.

Still, she walked back toward her horse, bow in one hand, and the Jacklow in the other. She shoved her bow and arrows into their strap on her saddle and began to tie the Jacklow down when a cold piece of metal touched her shoulder.

“Don’t move,” a small voice said.

She dropped the Jacklow and started to put her hands up.

“I said don’t move… okay, just don’t try anything.”

Neb turned her head to see the voice. It was a boy, younger than her. He was native with blood-red skin and purple eyes. He didn’t look mixed like most others were by now. His hands still only had four fingers, unlike White-Eye, who had five. His hair was white with the texture of a sponge, another trait that was rare among natives now. His clothes were for a child younger than him; his pants fit him more like shorts, and his shirt was torn and wouldn’t even button, hanging on his shoulders like a vest. And the boy had no hat. However, his figure was eerie. He was thin, with his ribs prominently showing, and his arms looked like little more than skeleton limbs.

He kept his gun on her shoulder. It was an old ballistic revolver, much like the ones the natives had before the Empire and Confederation landed on Zedoria. She had heard that some natives still used these types of guns during the civil war, but she doubted this one could still fire. The metal barrel was rusted throughout, and the grip was covered in dirt.

“All I want is that horse and your Jack,” the boy said, using his other hand to motion Neb to move away from her horse.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The horse thief wasn’t like the natives and outlaws that Virgi told stories about. She had figured most of his stories were at least half lies, but this boy didn’t even seem half scary. But Neb had never met a horse thief before. Virgi and the Captain had gone after a few horse thieves in the area, but the thieves mostly stayed further west and away from the land given to the former rangers.

“Can I keep my bow?” Neb asked.

The boy looked puzzled, glancing at her horse. “What?”

“This,” Neb moved her hand toward the bow. She was baffled, what kind of boy didn’t know a bow? Especially a native, many of them still used bows more than old revolvers.

The boy’s purple eyes changed to a sparkling silver, and his mouth turned into a wide grin. “Can you show me how to use it?” the boy said, as he shoved his gun into the waist of his pants, though only the tip of the barrel fit inside his ill-fitting britches.

“Why?” Neb said.

The boy did seem to care that Neb didn’t answer him. Instead, he reached out and touched the bow still strapped to the saddle. His long red finger moved up and down its softwood shaft, flicking the string once. It made a click, and he beamed like a young child.

“Did you kill the Jack with it?” the boy asked.

She was confused. Horse thieves were supposed to be outlaws and bandits with little morals and no time to ask questions. Virgi had told her many times how he used to chase bandits clear across the western territory before catching them because they moved so quickly. She wondered how they could move so quickly if they each stopped and asked questions like this one.

Before she could answer, the boy’s smile changed. A horse could be heard in the distance. Its gallop was unmistakable. It was the large maroon workhorse, Shrimp, that Virgi had taken to riding.

The skinny boy fiddled with his waist, dropping the gun as he tried to bring it out. When it hit the ground, the gun fired, though no bullet came from the barrel. Instead, the hammer went flying off, landing in the dirt off in the distance.

The cattle were startled by the shot and started to run toward the ranch house. The boy bent quickly to pick up the now broken gun. Neb watched as he bent, and his tiny shirt ripped a bit more as he tried to pick it up. She thought this truly was an odd boy and wondered how he had made it this far in life.

The boy was still bent over when Virgi, still sitting on Shrimp, pulled out his massive electromagnetic rifle from his saddle strap.

“Boy, think hard about what you are about to do,” Virgi said to the boy.

The boy opened his four fingers and dropped the revolver. His face was empty. It wasn’t sad or scared. He seemed resigned, as if he had been here before.

“Pick up that boy’s gun, Neb,” Virgi said, turning to her.

Neb had heard Virgi, but she was still a bit confused by this whole thing. Horse thieves and bandits were supposed to be hard, tough men. But this one was just a boy, and one with seemingly little fight in him.

“Neb,” Virgi repeated, gesturing toward the gun.

She shook herself out of her thoughts, then bent down, picked up the gun, and stepped behind Shrimp. Virgi moved his gun away from the boy and rested it on Shrimp’s saddle. He relaxed, leaning comfortably forward against Shrimp’s neck. Virgi seemed to care little that the cattle had now all run and were somewhere hopefully near the house.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Virgi asked the boy.

The boy, still with his empty face, moved his eyes down, staring at Shrimp’s hooves.

“I need to leave,” the boy said.

“Well, you won’t make it far looking like that. The suns will burn your skin clean off,” Virgi said.

“I need to leave,” the boy repeated.

“No, I think you need to stay here. I need another ranch hand,” Virgi said.

The first sun had already set, and the second one would soon follow. In the distance, Neb saw two riders herding the cattle back. She assumed White-Eye must have turned back when he heard the cattle run, and Captain Joel must have done the same. When the cattle stopped their run, one of the riders turned and started galloping in their direction.

Virgi dismounted, leaving his rifle on the saddle, and walked over to put his hand on the boy’s head. Virgi tilted the boy’s head up, locking eyes with him, and said, “Whatever you’re running from, I can handle. If you head west, you will die.”

The boy nodded. His scrawny shoulders relaxed, and his hands hung down, but his eyes stayed locked with Virgi’s.

Captain Joel rode up on his dark blue sporting horse, Lady.

“What happened?” he asked, looking at the boy.

“Why, I just hired another ranch hand, Joel. If you don’t have enough hands, the cattle will start to run,” Virgi said, grinning as he put his arm around the boy.

Captain Joel looked over at Neb. She was still hiding behind Shrimp.

“Get on your horse,” he said to her.

“Yes, Captain,” Neb said as she ran to her horse.

Captain Joel then rode his horse over to Virgi and the boy. The boy had taken to looking down at Shrimp’s hooves again.

“How is this boy going to work? He’s barely more than bones,” the Captain said, looking him up and down.

“You’ve always been a bad judge of people, Joel. Why, this boy might be just bones, but they’re good bones if you know what you’re looking for. That’s your problem, Joel. You don’t know what to look for,” Virgi said.

The Captain groaned and turned his horse, ready to leave, but then circled back around.

“What’s the boy’s name?” the Captain asked Virgi.

“Why, everyone just calls him Boy!” Virgi said with a chuckle.

Captain Joel did not laugh. He pushed his horse into a gallop and headed back toward the cattle.

Neb waited. She was still on her horse, but she realized she still had the boy’s gun in her hand and didn’t know what to do with it. She had never held a gun before. Virgi had told her a time would come when she would never be without a gun, and why not enjoy the empty feeling of not holding one while she could. But now she wondered if that empty time was over. Was she to hold onto this gun forever?

“Go catch up to Joel,” Virgi said to Neb.

Virgi was helping the boy onto the back of his horse. Virgi seemed at ease with him. Just a few moments ago, the boy had been trying to rob her, but now he was part of the outfit. She wondered if this was how all of the Rangers’ adventures went or if this one was unique.

She started to ride off back toward the cattle, watching the second sun set. As she rode off, she heard the boy start to cry.