Echoes

by Tempe O'Kun

  I grumble as I fish the bills from my wallet. Gonna need some payback later from the lawbat for being right all over the place. Maybe back in the sleeper car, where I can get him right where I want him.

  This trio of fools wastes another hour of my time. The wolverine waddles and puffs through the shelves. The bobcat smarms my way and eyes my tail to within one glance of getting a punch to the face. Besides the watch, Blake picks himself out a broach and some extra-warty squashes. At least, I reckon the broach is for him—sheriff’s not gonna pin anything like that on me.

  Never thought I’d be so glad to leave a place I dragged Blake to. Hauling his purchases, we cut back down the main street of the ghost town.

  Striker walked us out with a rogue’s grin. “Goodbye, handsome.” Poking his whiskered face through the gap between the gates, he tips a battered leather hat my way. “Come back soon so we can compare guns.” With a wink, he shuts the gate before I can reply. I hear a heavy wooden beam bar it.

  I grumble and turn away, but hold my tongue until we’re out of earshot. Over my shoulder, I sling a bag with the greater share of the squashes. My boots crunch down the trail back to the main rail line. “Ah can’t believe that cat. The nerve!”

  The bat chuckles into a wing. “Yes, imagine the scandal if an outlaw acted like that in the town where you’re sheriff. People would talk.”

  Can’t find an answer to that, so I stomp on down the road.

  The bat dips his muzzle and flashes those gold-flecked eyes my way. “You did come here for information.”

  I sulk onward.

  A long moment and several hundred feet of rail pass.

  Blake grins like a fool, examining his shiny new watch. “Quite a woman, that Minerva.”

  Rolling a cigarette with one paw, I croak a laugh. “An old battle-axe, ya mean.”

  He traces a wing thumb down my arm. “Perhaps I have an affection for formidable women.”

  “Perhaps you’d best not count us as peas in a pod if ya aim to see any affection from me.” I cast him a glance from the corner of my eye. “She’s built like an ironclad warship and billows smoke like a coal-fired engine.”

  “Then I beg your pardon, madam.” He sweeps his hat off in a smooth batty bow. “An ironclad doesn’t do justice to your ceaseless and unjustified belligerence.”

  I pause in the middle of licking the rolled paper sealed. “Is that sass ah hear from mah upstandin’ lawbat?”

  “Entirely possible.” His smile turns my way. “Afraid I’ve fallen in with an uncouth crowd of late.”

  As I set the squash bag by the rail junction, my ears rise to the distant chug of a locomotive nearing from the west.

  In the fading evening, Blake fishes our tickets from his embroidered vest pocket as he checks his fine new pocket watch. “Right on time.”

  I stand on the rails, facing down the train. My duster blows in the breezes, all aglow as I light a cigarette. I may be a trifle stubborn, but I reckon it’ll take a mite of stubbornness to get my father’s other gun back. If that makes me a little like that that old wolverine, then so be it.

  Chapter 4

  “Even a gunslinger needs a little reassurin’.”

  I walk my patrol, rather than flying, just to enjoy the night. The town as dark as it is quiet, unusual for a full moon. Only the distant blotch of a thunderhead foreboded any disruption of the peaceful night. As I take a deep breath of cool night air, I take pride in the fact I have something to do with bringing peace to this area.

  With the streets awash in moonbeams, I scarcely need to echolocate. My occasional tongue-click keeps me from blundering into a tie-post. It does nothing to warn me about the ne’er-do-well watching me from the alley.

  Her voice sweeps in a dusty drawl as I pass by: “Well, if it isn’t mah pretty little lawbat.”

  My heart races. I turn to see a hare gunslinger leaning against a building. The cool glow of moonlight paints the rest of the world in silver, but a smoldering cigarette casts her in gold. Before I realize it, my feet carry me toward her. “Yours?”

  She flicks her cigarette away and brushes a claw down the front of my vest. “Can’t a bun lay claim?”

  I adjust the brim of my hat, taking on a lawyerly tone. “It’s my understanding of homesteading that a claimant has to stick around if they expect to get anything.”

  “And make improvements. Ah try my best there, but the going’s tough.” Mischief flashes in her eyes. “Plot’s kinda small and outta the way, but ah peek in now and then.”

  I roll my eyes, but edge closer. I lift her chin, looking into her eyes. She might object, but I think she’s lovely. In the dark of the alley, I steal a soft kiss.

  She hooks a trigger finger into my vest and drags me into a much more scandalous kiss.

  Blushing to the ears, I cast a paranoid glance to the street, only to find it empty. My wings close around her.

  Our affections are interrupted by a crackle of thunder overhead.

  She looks up, lifting her ears to the half-black sky. “Storm’s rolling in.”

  I glance up in time to see another cascade of light tumble through the clouds. “Might be best if we got inside before we’re caught in a deluge.”

  We share a smile and head back toward my office. I fumble my keys at the door as her paws meander to my backside. Her hat gets knocked off as we kiss in the hallway; it flutters to the floor with a woolen whisper.

  If Six was bold in the moonlight, she’s shameless in the dark. No sooner have I set the latch than she has me pressed against the wall. Her leg rises with my temperature as she nuzzles the fur of my neck.

  I squirm at our lewd pose, feeling myself pulse to hardness. This bunny always manages to drive me wild in one way or another. Breath short, I stroke my fingertips down her tender ears, drawing a supple gasp from my rugged outlaw. I chuckle. “I missed you terribly.”

  “Aww, listen to you making a mash.” She nuzzles me, her breath smoke, her tone silk. “Ah missed you too, sugarwings.” With that, she slips an arm behind my back and knees and carries me down the hall to my room. We laugh together as she deposits me on the bed, then pauses to take off her gunbelt. She sets it on the nightstand, within a moment’s reach, then climbs into bed with me.

  I struggle out of my own gunbelt and drape it over the bedpost. In the dark, I hear the matched thunks of her boots dropping off the side of the bed. I draw up against her. With my thief beside me, I’ve never felt so safe.

  Her touch runs down my wing like rain.

  Those muscled arms roll me over as she climbs atop me. She leans in with a salacious smile. Her lips meet mine with warm desire.

  My wing-fingers slip under her vest to weave through the fur of her back, then slip forward to undo the buttons. In no time, she’s helping me out of my clothes too, then helping herself to all the pleasure my length has to offer. She rides hard as storm winds sweep down off the mountain. The bedstead rattles in reply to the shingles until we both tense, shudder, and collapse into drowsy satisfaction.

  With her breath slowing in my ear, I glide into a blithe sleep.

    

  Morning comes in the blink of an eye.

  I wake to watch Six dress. She notices me. Though smiling, the bunny bites her lip. Her boot twitches against the floorboards. “Ya always get my heart all balled up.”

  I prop myself up on a wing. “It’s fair to say you do a number on my heart too.”

  “Ah know you’re not the kind to tell a girl things you don’t mean just to take her for a tumble.” She winces. “But would it kill ya to lead a bun on?”

  My blood runs colder than Skull Creek. “What do you mean?”

  “Ah mean ah’d like to hear you say—” She chokes on rising emotion. “—that ya love me.”

  Deep down, I want to. But every time she leaves, there’s fair odds she�
�ll wind up dead in some random patch of desert and I’d never hear about it. She’d just vanish in the wind. “Six, I...”

  With shocked anger, she gets to her feet. Booted footfalls clunk heavy on the floor as she tries to walk through a muddle of emotions. “Ah want to know somebody in this big lonely desert wants me around all the time.” Her paw traces up her arm, strong fingers gripping scuffed sleeve fabric.

  “I— You really are dear to me, Six.” I reach out to her.

  “Then say so.” She draws back, temper flaring under the surface of her tone. “Even a gunslinger needs a little reassurin’.”

  “You need reassurance? I take you back every time you run off to risk your life for no good reason.” I take a little breath to cool my anger. “What assurance do I have you won’t just take my words and leave?”

  A look, stubborn as iron, clamps over her muzzle. “It’s mah business where ah go. Yer just gonna have to live with that.”

  I sit up straight, the fur on my neck prickled. “If you really believe that, you’re as selfish as you are contrary. Your modus operandi thus far has been to only show up when you need something from me.”

  “You little lawyering son of a bitch! Don’t try and turn this around on me.” She swept a sheaf of paper from my nightstand. “Stop being a coward and say it!”

  As paperwork fluttered down around me, I lower my muzzle and my tone. “I won’t be railroaded into saying something I’m not fully certain of.”

  “Ah don’t need you to be certain. Heck, I don’t even need ya to mean it.” She leans in, arms crossed as she scowls. “Whatever you’re feelin’, call it love. Ah dare you.”

  “And when you get yourself killed and I never find out? What then?”

  “Get killed? You could catch a bullet tomorrow.” The slim bunny shrugs. “Not all folk are as tolerant of a lawbat bossin’ ‘em around.”

  “I—” I clear my throat. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Glory be!” Her ears and arms raise in false exaltation. “A thing Sheriff Blake hasn’t thought of.”

  I bite back a bitter retort. “So stick around. Watch my back.”

  She hesitates. The flick of her gaze away from me says she’s either thinking it over or has done so already.

  “Hayes drifted out of town after you blew up his mine.” I sweep a wing toward the edge of town. “You’re as safe here as anywhere.”

  Having talked each other to silence, we stew in it. She stares at my now-clear nightstand for a spell, then huffs down to seat herself on it. Our eyes meet, finding the words we can’t. Minutes pass by as we sit speechless, alternating between close study of each other and looking away.

  A gust of wind rattles my office, shaking us from our doldrums. Six stands and snatches her hat from the hallway floor.

  I get to my feet, not knowing what I plan to do next. Stop her? This conversation established nothing if not my lack of ability on that front. And possibly hers.

  She slips her ears through and tugs the hat in place. Her smile is slight, but directed at me. “Ah might be back sooner than later, ah guess.”

  I cross my wings and give my muzzle a slow shake. “I might be ready to say it then, I guess.”

  Six takes a halting step toward the door, then pulls a wingover back to me. Her lips grace mine: lightly, softly. Then she’s out the door and down the hall.

  I watch as she opens the front door to a sky of clouds blushing at their false promise of rain.

  She casts a little look back at me, this time with wry amusement. “Suppose it’s good you have a backbone, Jordan.”

  I lean against the hallway wall. “You need a man who has one.”

  Her smile broadens a fraction, then she’s out the door and out of my life for the time being. The door closes and she walks past the window of my sitting room. Above, the clouds roll on, not having spilled a drop.

  Chapter 5

  “Bubbles tickle mah nose.”

  My thief breezes into the office.

  Silver pistol at her hip, blue steel at the other, the hare stands before my desk. A long coat sways in the hot breeze, dust trailing off like a vapor. That smoky muzzle gleams a smile under stormy eyes.

  A quick paw locks the door. The bunny’s boots ring on the floorboards. “Howdy, lawbat.”

  “Six...” A pen drops from my hind paw, staining the cuff of my trousers and making a Dalmatian of the document. I jump up, but not in time to save them. “Aw, heck!”

  “That’s a fine way to greet a lady.” A touch out of breath, she tilts my muzzle up into a kiss. The ghost of a cigarette haunts her lips.

  Warmth floods my wings. The ink-stained pants and the intervening time since our last kiss vanish from my concern, leaving only the bunny standing over me. The kiss ends in a little rub of noses. “So you’re a lady now?”

  “Much as ah’ve ever been.” Her muzzle aligns on mine like a compass needle. I wish that compass didn’t lead her so far afield between kisses.

  “Who’re you running from now?”

  “Nobody with fair odds a’ catchin’ me.”

  “Fair odds and you don’t run together.” My wings trace around her hips, finding that fluff of a tail.

  Her caress falls on my wings like Arizona rain. “Never hear you complain when they’re in your favor.”

  We kiss again. Sunlight spills in around us, discernible even when I close my eyes, just like the bunny in my wings. Our muzzles slide along each other until our foreheads touch. The window’s dusty and the door’s locked; in this rare moment I’m alone with her.

  “You could always stay.” Whispering, I smile, a trifle unsteady.

  “You could always go.” Her paw grazes my badge.

  Not wanting to dwell on impossibilities, I rise into another kiss, letting my tongue trail along her lips.

  She giggles, backing off just a little. “Ease off there, sugarwings. Yer kissin’ is a mite distractin’.”

  “Reckoned that’s the point.” I kiss the corner of her smile.

  “You can distract me in a moment’s time. Right now I got a little something for you.” Her long coat slips down those elegant arms, showing the delicate shades of her fur. She withdraws something from a pocket, then drops the coat to the floor in a heap. A parcel sits in her grasp, brown paper blending with the tan of desert hare pelt.

  My ears flatten. “Something you stole?”

  “Bought—” She tilts the paper-wrapped object. “I know you’re all particular.”

  “Bought with stolen funds.”

  Her claws scritch under my chin, her voice losing its edge and most of its smoke. Her ears go down. “Ya want what I got or not?”

  Helpless against her bunny charms, my wing thumbs trace the curve of her back.

  She kisses me down into my chair, handing me the gift.

  Touching it strikes my wings like electricity. “It’s cold!”

  “That it is, lawbat.”

  I laugh, holding it gingerly. Seems today comes full of surprises. “You come across an icebox out in the desert?”

  “You don’t expect a bunny to go tellin’ you all her secrets, do ya?”

  I slip the parcel paper off it, finding it to be a bottle marked with exotic glyphs and symbols.

  “Some manner a’ Oriental sarsaparilla. Seein’ as you’re so keen on fruit.”

  I turn the jade glass bottle over and try to twist off the cap. “Sarsaparilla’s not a— Wait, how’d you come to know what it says?”

  Pushing aside the papers, she sits on my desk. “Got it from an otter chemist in California.”

  “And you take his word on that?” I struggle at opening it with my wings, since reaching up with a hind paw would be uncouth.

  “Gave him cause to tell me the truth.” Her powerful legs cross before me. “Try it. I don’t reckon it’s
even liquor. Least I think that’s what he said. Talked a mite funny.”

  “You —huuh!— inspire nothing but confidence, madam.” I wrestle with the cap.

  She snatches the bottle from my wings and raps it hard against the edge of my desk. The cap pops off, leaving little gouges in the wood. Her deft paws spin it back to eye level, not spilling a drop.

  I nod. “Much obliged.”

  “Ah hate to see a lawbat in peril.” She sweeps that hat off her ears. They sway, translucent in the midday sun, causing my heart to flutter like a bat’s first flight. Smiling, she places the bottle at my lips.

  I open my mouth with care. Cold floods my tongue, then sweetness. Effervesce prickles through my mouth. I lick my lips, then grin. “It’s good.”

  She leans in closer, amused no doubt at my halfwitted reaction. An affectionate paw brushes my cheek. My wing thumbs curl around the bottle but she doesn’t let go.

  “Try some.”

  Her head shakes. “Bubbles tickle mah nose.” Her pink nose twitches.

  I raise my ears and eyebrows. We let time hang a moment.

  She relents, releasing her grasp.

  I lift the bottle to her lips. The chill of glass stands in sharp contrast with the heat in her fur. The moment can’t last, I know; the bottle will empty and she will be gone. Yet, as she takes a tentative swallow, those paws gentle on my wings, none of that matters.

  A bead of sarsaparilla runs down my wing thumb, cold as well water. The hare raises my fingers to her lips, licking them clean. “Not bad.” She smiles.

  My wings flush with heat. I wish I could blame the sun, or something in the drink, but I know the reason is slipping off my desk right now, straddling my lap.

  “Ah keep showin’ up like this, folk’ll wonder if you’re knockin’ boots with a tall bunny fella.”

  “Not my fault you look the part.”

  “You sayin’ you don’t cotton to the way I look?” Her ears droop, their softness brushing my face.