Cotton Mouth Bluff, 1885 AD

A long, bustling day had come and gone for the people of the old American West. Gone was the all-powerful, permeating heat of the sun, and with it the vividly bright orange over the bumps, valleys, and plains of brown. In its place was the scattered glow of candles and lanterns that only barely let commonfolk and wanderers see past their own noses in the darkened night. Well, that and the unobstructed white of a crescent moon in an otherwise pitch-black sky, reached for by sporadic peaks of terrain and skinny husks of trees that couldn’t thrive even in the summer.

Begrudging workers were leaving their daily shifts, with many hitting up a bar or tavern to drink all their frustrations away. Others – including a few who took such indulgences a bit too far – were instead forced to squalor in the confines of prison until their meager dinner was served.

One individual had a far less orthodox way of spending his evening: escaping the wrath of law enforcement.

A lithe, acrobatic outline leapt off the town’s clock tower, falling rapidly like a ricocheting bullet. Its eyes, a rich chocolate brown, bore nothing but anticipation and excitement, their glow as radiant and striking as the moon itself. The wind whistled past the hole in one of his ears, and he spread his arms out as if to catch as much of the natural force as possible.

In his mind, he was riding the sky.

His descent was due to end as he approached the ground. Disorganized rows of houses were arranged in front of one of the town’s many active railroads … or, as the falling figure considered them, rides. In mere seconds, he would splatter into a gumbo so icky that even roaches wouldn’t go near it.

Heh, well, feelins’ mutual, he thought.

The young man twirled his body in one single, elegant motion that contrasted his scraggly appearance, letting his spurred boots steadily collide with the rails.

This was, of course, the famous raccoon known as Tennessee “Kid” Cooper. The self-proclaimed greatest outlaw of the West.

Adorned in an orange shirt with a brown vest and black gloves, a yellow neckerchief, and a brown bowler hat, the “Kid” slid down these railroad tracks like it was absolutely nothing. He actively made sure to not let up on his speed, feeling the sparks flying at his feet that matched the electricity surging through his excitedly beating heart. He would have bounced on his legs had that not thrown off his flow.

Clasped in one hand was his beloved cane, the heirloom of the Cooper thieving clan, which had been outfitted into a trusty rifle. In the other was a heaping sack of gold that weighed half as much as he did. It had previously belonged to a crooked bankman who’d taken it out for his own selfish uses … Not that that mattered to the four coyote deputies chasing him down.

They sprinted through the sands beneath him, firing their guns loudly to take down the smaller yet more capable raccoon. “You ain’t getting’ away this time, Kid!!” one of them bellowed.

But the thief was unintimidated. “Ha, sure!” he mocked them in his supremely thick Southern drawl. “And you ain’t lookin’ like a buncha little mice down there!”

“Wh-What, like us kinda mice or all-fours kinds?!” another coyote cried indignantly.

“Yeah, that!” Tennessee laughed out his non-answer.

Tennessee’s eyes darted all around, while he continued to belittle his pursuers, while he dodged the bullets whizzing by him. The sound of them inches from his ears would’ve deafened the raccoon had he not gotten so used to it. It didn’t deter the smooth veering of his body left and right, up and down, contorting his slender middle with an almost sixth sense of their deadly trajectories.

But even he knew that the thrill of the chase had to end sometime, unless he wanted to end up behind bars … again …

The perfect opportunity for escape came as he approached a water tower … the oldest one in Cotton Mouth Bluff, coincidentally. The gears turned in the ringtail’s crafty mind, and he snickered as he prepared to put his stunt into action.

Placing the bag of loot between his teeth, Tennessee sprang off the tracks, doing a midair spin to avoid a particularly rapid round of bullets. He focused … and, in his mind, time slowed to a crawl as his hyper-sharp eyes locked onto all of his targets at once. Despite being in motion, and despite having four coyotes to shoot … he hit them all dead-on, nailing them in the legs as intended and causing them all to collapse.

Within that same second, the Kid flipped his gun around to use it as a cane, latching onto the rail of the water tower. After a full 360-degree swing, he launched himself up, prying the supporting rail completely off in the process. He repeated the move at the upper level, flying all the way up to the tower’s top.

“Blast you, Cooper!!” a coyote howled while clenching his newly wounded leg.

“Sorry, fellers!” Tennessee retorted through his teeth. “Guess yer all a bit washed up!”

He jumped off the rusty tower with that horrible pun, just as it finally gave out and collapsed … Dumping all the water straight onto the coyotes, causing them to spin out as the crashing makeshift river sent them rolling away.

The sound of their enraged yells was music to the runaway thief’s one-and-a-half good ears. He jumped onto a wire spanning an alleyway, ran across, then transferred from one wooden rooftop to the next. He used any means of gaining elevation he could find, from chimney tops to bouncy awnings, flipping and sliding with the masterful, scrappy dexterity and speed that made him so notoriously hard to take down.

Hooo-weeee!! I’m feelin’ higher than a cloud on whiskey!

For Tennessee Cooper, this was what life was all about. Sticking it to no-good scum and spitting in the face of more than a few flimsy laws. Flying about wherever he desired, unbound by anything or anyone. Taking on whatever thrill came his way, coming out triumphant, letting everybody know who he was. And, most of all, total independence. No one could tell him what to do, and he needn’t worry about anyone but himself.

He had to hold back a whoop of joy to avoid giving away his position.

The Cooper climbed up the flagpole of a relatively tall abode, easily able to perch himself comfortably on its tip. He listened carefully, unable to pick up any sounds of his previous chasers, letting him know he was in the clear. He also looked at the water tower he’d scaled … or what was left of it.

Only now that the rush was dying down did it dawn on him that its wrecked state would cause problems for certain people. The outlaw reached under his hat to scratch his scruffy head. “Mkay … maaaaybe not my best idea …” he said under his breath.

But that thought went away as soon as he heard a scream.

His ears flinched as they picked up shrill, feminine cries, somewhere beneath him. Tennessee perked one back up, trying to hone in on the location as they kept coming.

“AAGH!! Ya sick freaks, leave me alone!!”

It was somewhere to his left and behind him!

Tennessee slid his way down the pole and briskly crept in that direction. He hopped quietly across more rooftops, stealthily keeping himself so low and so well blended into the shadows that no one could spot him unless they were right up close. All while wondering what exactly was happening as the mystery girl kept screaming.

“I swear, I’m gonna rip y’all up by the f-mmmfffmmmhhh!!”

One thing’s for sure, Tennessee thought. Some unlucky gal’s in a real pinch!

Once he was at a third rooftop, he slunk his way to a barrier at the edge. From there, he carefully peeked out and down.

A gang of three foxes, all dressed in ratty grey clothes and trousers, were gathered in an alley … and, as Tennessee assumed, in the grasp of one with her arms pinned and a hand over her mouth, was a female.

Another raccoon, to be precise. One with dark brown fur and even darker brown, shoulder-length hair. She wore a dull, stained, beige blouse top and long, dark-blue skirt that split at the middle. Her black, knee-high boots were exposed as she kicked her legs ferociously, screaming through the red hand clasped around her compact muzzle! “Gmmrrrmmph ffmmmghh!!”

It was the kind of sight that made Tennessee’s skin crawl to no end but was sadly not too uncommon. Many a fair lady would find herself in such danger around these parts, and far too often the men responsible would get away with it. Still, as Tennessee looked at the fierce expression in her amber yellow eyes, the way she thrashed and kicked to get away through muffled roars, he could see that this one was not going down easily.

She was a fighter … he felt a warmth in his heart at that.

But it was clearly a losing fight!

“C’mon girlie, quit squirmin’!” the brawny fox holding her said. “We just wanna see what’s in them pretty pockets of yours!”

The raccoon female wrapped her calloused fingers around his arms and, while twisting and shifting her head around, managed to pry his hands off her mouth. “I ain’t got nothin’ for ya!” she growled in a twangy, somewhat high voice. “And if ya red meatheads love gettin’ all handsy so much, why don’tcha go back home and fondle each other!!”

The hardened girl highlighted her point with the meatiest, nastiest bite to her assailant’s hand she could muster, along with a powerful stomp to his foot that sent a mini earthquake through his body! She could finally stumble away from him, but she was quickly ganged by the other two foxes. She swung out for a punch to one of their faces, but the other avenged his pal by smacking her own with so much terrible force that she was knocked off her feet!

He then hovered over her, pulling out a knife from his pants pocket.

That was enough for an outraged Tennessee to jump in.

“Hang on, ma’am!” he hollered, getting the foxes’ attention as he swooped down with a firm landing.

“What in the-”

Tennessee cut the burly fox off with a swift swipe to the head with his cane, following it up with a pouncing spin and whack to the gut. As he reeled from the blows, his comrades quickly pulled out their own knives, pointing them at the scrawny raccoon who’d so brazenly interrupted their fun.

“The Sam Hill are you doin’ here?!” the shortest of the trio exclaimed. “We were just … wait …” He took a loud, long, snorting sniff, as if identifying the stranger by scent. “Yer … Yer that Cooper! The Kid!”

The outlaw couldn’t resist giving a crooked smile, briefly removing his hat for a bow. “The one and only! And who’re you, Shorty?”

The insulted fox took that moment to strike, but Tennessee easily dodged the attempted stab with a simple sidestep. He hooked the foe’s outstretched hand, yanked him in, and butted him in the face with the cane’s hook. This caused him to drop the knife, and the raccoon subsequently got low to sweep both the weapon away and the fox off his feet in one go.

The third fox, freakishly tall but very skinny, tried to use the Kid’s lowered stance to his advantage by going for a tackle, but Tennessee grabbed his arms and backflipped himself onto his back. With the wrists still clenched in his gloved hands, the tricky thief swung his opponent’s fists right at the beefier fox just as he was getting up again.

He spun the tall fox around a few more times, for no other reason than to play with him like a new toy. With his pathetic rival now dizzy, he hopped off to kick him in the hip, then the face, both with the sharp spur of a single boot. It finished the job, rendering the crook unconscious.

Tennessee rolled into the shortest fox and, with an uppercut, slammed him into the broken-down wall behind him. The fox crashed through, blacking out as soon as he landed on the piles of busted wood.

Leaving just the raccoon and his one remaining opponent.

Knowing he was the clear victor here, Tennessee simply flipped his cane around to its rifle mode, aiming it at the fox.

“Heh. Looks like you brought a knife to a gunfight, big man.”

“What gives?!” the fox roared, waving his blade about in a pure tantrum. “She was our find! Why you gotta come in and ruin everything like you own the place?!”

For the first time, Tennessee bothered to give another look at the woman he’d just saved.

She had taken a bit of time to finally get back onto her feet, more because of her shock by this turn of events than anything else. One second, she’d been struggling to save herself from these fiends who were about to do whatever they wanted to her, despite her unwavering struggle. The next, a brief battle had broken out between them and … him.

The outlaw. Tennessee “Kid” Cooper in the flesh.

So, it was unsurprising that she had remained frozen in place, not knowing how to even get further involved with something like this.

Tennessee, however, suddenly dropped his cocky demeanor. His eyes narrowed sharply. Little reticles formed over the image of the fox who’d been so cruel to her.

“It’s simple,” he growled. “I don’t take kindly to folks messin’ with an innocent lady.”

He tightened his finger on the trigger, baring his rich white teeth.

“Now … Quit yappin’ and git.”

The fox knew he was beat. Beat by a skinny little twink of all things, famed outlaw or not. His large muscles twitched, urging him to still fight for what little of his dignity was left.

But the raccoon took a threatening step forward.

His foe moved backward in turn, finally walking away. But not without vowing to himself that the runt would regret this somehow.

… And then there were only two …

Tennessee instantly lowered his gun, swiveled around, and began approaching the female.

“Now then, ma’am.” As usual, a prideful yet gentlemanly lilt arose in his voice. “Are you alri-”

Only for her to pick up one of the foxes’ knives and shove it in his face.

“Stay back!” she barked. “I swear, I’ll cut ya to pieces!”

“Woah, woah, hey now!” Tennessee instantly halted, throwing his hands high above his head. “Easy there! I ain’t gonna hurt you! Just wanted to see if you’re any worse for wear!”

As he spoke, the male took this chance to finally get a good, solid look at her. Of course, the first thing he noticed was her beauty. Her clothes and hair were very unkempt, he’d admit. She lacked the long, flowing locks, ultra-deep curves, and decorative makeup of some other … lady friends he’d made. But she still had an attractive aura all her own. He’d rarely seen hair as thick as hers, no doubt endless for whatever lucky guy got to run his fingers through it. And her face … not only was it pretty to look at, but its constant expressiveness showed she wore her pretty little heart on her sleeve.

And a fiery heart it certainly was. She wasn’t one to mess around. She’d stood up to those thugs without ever cowering, and she even refused to submit to her rescuer. Those eyes could disarm all but the toughest of foes, shining vibrantly in the dim moonlight, as bright as any gold he’d ever stolen.

Homely on the outside … but something much more on the inside. It intrigued the young man to no end.

The woman, in turn, found herself lowering the knife just a bit, almost subconsciously. “That right? Ya think I don’t know who you are? Tennessee Cooper, yeah?”

Realizing he’d look less threatening without a rifle in his hands, the Kid lowered himself into another bow as he put it away. “Yes, ma’am! One and the same!” he declared, hoping to maybe impress her as well as quell her nerves. “You got a name yourself?”

She was taken aback – again – by how casually this thief was behaving. She’d always envisioned the famous “Kid” Cooper as a crass, sleezy ruffian, lowlier and dirtier than the ground she walked on. But though he was certainly … eccentric, she would have sworn he was just like any average, well-behaved person. Better than most men she knew, in fact. He wasn’t even a slouch in the looks department … not in the slightest …

Figuring he couldn’t do much damage with just a name, she curtly obliged. “Darlene.”

“Mmm … a name as pretty as the gal it belongs to.” The raccoon kept playing it cool. He sidestepped over to a parked wagon, leaning easily against it with a slight cock of his head. “Well, Miss Darlene, I promise you got nothin’ to worry about. In fact, I’d be more than happy to escort you safely back home … if you’d be so obliged.”

“Escort-” Darlene shook her own head in disbelief. “You want me to let an outlaw take me home?! You got a few bullets wedged in that brain of yers?!”

“Nah,” the male waved. “Just a couple’a voices. But they mean well, I swear.”

That statement should have tripled Darlene’s apprehension. What was she saying; the fact that she was still talking to a criminal should have made her tenser by the second!

… So why did she find herself finally bringing down the knife completely?

Why did she feel her guard lowering with every word this man spoke? Yes, he’d just saved her. Yes, he was being nothing short of extremely polite. But she knew more about his status than she did him as a person … and it wasn’t like she had every reason to trust a stranger, period.

But if he wanted anything from her … he’d have easily taken it by now. And she didn’t exactly look wealthy, so he couldn’t possibly think he’d gain anything by knowing where her family lived …

“Look, I ain’t gonna pressure you none,” Tennessee finally spoke again. He tried to keep his ears from flattening in disappointment, sensing she’d opt to remain on her own. “But I meant it before: I can’t stand the thought of hurtin’ a gal like yourself.”

He once again made the leap, this time by daring to take just a few steps towards her. When she didn’t react negatively, he went a step further and held out a hand to her. “I promise you’ll be fine. But just say the word, and I’ll skedaddle faster than a hog in a butcher shop. ‘Kay?”

To hopefully seal the deal, the rogue flashed her a kind and genuine – if crooked – smile, tilting his head a bit more to look extra harmless.

Darlene had to suppress a gasp in her chest.

She saw nothing dangerous in those confident, pretty eyes of his. Nothing other than a sincere desire to help her even more … joined by her own unexpected desire to accept that help.

She wanted to place her trust in the man in front of her whose charm was through the roof, that fiendishly handsome face that was the most inviting sight in as long as she could remember. Sure, he may very well just be a phenomenal actor … but in her years, she had learned to sense and weed out the true intent of people.

And she sensed that she’d be safe with him.

So, she cautiously held out her own hand, causing Tennessee’s eyes to light up like a child on Christmas.

“No funny business, y’hear?” she sternly warned.

He put a hand over his chest. “Swear on my family name.”

---

Darlene was, unsurprisingly, wary about scaling rooftops with the crazed but well-meaning thief. After all, getting him to lead her at all was already a big leap. But he insisted that, should anyone spot him on the ground level – especially those from whom he’d just stolen – there would likely be chaos. And that was the last thing either of them wanted right now.

Thankfully, he was able to take it a bit easy for her … though that didn’t stop the mild vertigo as she was abruptly pulled up the pipe he’d chosen to climb. She almost told him to stop several times, whenever she looked down. But she just kept clinging to his waist, choosing security at the expense of feeling rather awkward pressed against him.

All the way up, his grasp was firm. He was definitely stronger than he looked … and she could certainly feel how fit he truly was …

Once they were up top, Darlene pointed the way to her home, and Tennessee scoped out the quickest route atop these buildings. Though for her, finding a way to do so from up here was certainly easier than actually going through it.

The first time she was asked to leap across a five-foot gap from one building to the next, she believed her decision to trust him was going to be her very last. But, much to her own surprise, she made the jump fairly cleanly. Her own shock and satisfaction were enough to earn a proud, hearty cheer from Tennessee, which only made her heart beat even faster.

She drew the line when he asked to carry her across a thin wire, however.

“Ohhhhhh no!” she insisted, crossing her arms with her back to him. “I don’t care if you can walk on water! I ain’t goin’ on that thing like no circus performer!”

“Circus performer?” Tennessee clutched his chest in fake hurt. “Why, Miss Darlene, I’m offended!”

Despite the dry chuckle that got out of her, she still refused. Which led to one of the few times the two raccoons headed back to the ground to cross the otherwise impassable gaps in their way. They’d go back up, then back down, somewhat extending their journey but nonetheless finding a middle ground they were both comfortable with.

Comfortable enough to engage in a bit of small talk.

“So, I get in this fella’s house, right? Creepin’ around, tryin’ to keep quiet …” As the raccoon duo strolled casually along the roof of an old bakery, Tennessee was in the middle of recounting a caper from a few weeks back, in which he’d broken into a smuggler’s house to steal his prized wine. “But I get in his room, and …”

He was interrupted by his own snickering, allowing Darlene to catch up from behind. “And I catch him goin’ to town with his own pillow! I swear, makin’ out, straddling, the whole shebang! I wound up wakin’ him up, I laughed so hard!”

He clenched his knees to stop himself from reeling over. Just the memory was enough to get him cackling uncontrollably again!

Darlene found herself joining in a bit … Laughing at the story of a thief in the middle of a very illegal activity. Granted, one that caused no harm to anyone but a skeezy smuggler. But everything within her mind said that it should be wrong … yet it felt okay.

Probably because, with how her own life had been left in the gutter by supposed “good guys,” she figured some of these low-lives had it coming.

Which led her to ask the questions that had been on her mind since her rescue.

“So … what’s your deal?”

Tennessee’s laughter died down, with him raising a brow in confusion. “You mean do I got a thing for my pillow, or …”

Darlene scoffed. “Nah, I mean … do ya just go around messing with all the perps in these parts? What, just cuz you can?” How did one’s life reach this point? How could someone go so actively against the norms of society and keep a big, dumb, dashing grin on his face the whole time?

“Dashing?” Girl, you gotta slow down …

“Well … yeah, kinda,” the male replied matter-of-factly. “But it ain’t all fun and games, y’see. Kinda runs in the family …” He withdrew his gun and held it up to his face, eyeing the weapon – particularly its golden hook – with a reverence that Darlene was not expecting.

“I gotta be the best of the best,” the Kid went on. To sell himself, he raised his cap with a hand on his hip. “I do everyone a favor by takin’ these varmints down a peg, and I get to be part of the greatest thievin’ family the world’s ever seen!”

His passion was evident. All his playfulness aside, this raccoon didn’t take his … “job,” Darlene supposed, lightly. Which included his deed tonight …

“And … where does savin’ folks like me factor in?” she asked. Finding that she was hoping for a few specific answers.

Tennessee felt his face heating up.

As he weas brought back to the events of tonight, all distractions of the conversation went away. And he was once again awestruck by the girl in front of him. Her hair, still disheveled and messy, fluttered in the crisp breeze. Her simple dress blew around, giving him a peek at her rough, slim legs … and oh, those eyes. He could see the inquisitive hopefulness swimming within, and it made him question his own end goals for swooping in and saving the day.

Still, he kept it together and fell back on his default response. Though not without scratching the back of his head in an uncommonly sheepish manner for him. “Well, uh … I guess you could say savin’ pretty ladies is more of a hobby … heh heh …”

Now it was her turn to blush.

Gosh dang that face …

He really was a criminally attractive specimen, with a sturdily slim body that he held with a very skewed level of confidence. And from the way he looked at her squarely in the eyes, it was blatantly obvious he wanted her to think exactly that. But because of his actions and constant respect for her boundaries, none of it felt painfully shallow. He was forward but not forceful, cocky but not arrogant. Clearly a wildcard, but not to a degree that made him dangerous or uncaring.

“Oh, so I’m just a hobby to you?” she playfully sniped back.

Oh yes, and teasing him was proving to be fun as well.

As they both laughed, their drawls synced up together in lively, chirping harmony. It was like they fit together, in more ways than even they were beginning to realize.

It was music to the Kid’s ears … yet somehow still so intimidating to the solitary thief.

“But hey, I gabbed on about myself long enough …” he said, trying to shift the subject. “What about you?”

He wanted to know more about her. Her life, her interests, who she was …

… But instead, he saw her face gradually fall in response to his curiosity.

Her shoulders were suddenly slumped. She turned her gaze away, aiming it at the stars in the sky. She rubbed her arm slowly, and the outlaw’s own smile disappeared at the sound of a deep, defeated sigh that was so unbefitting of such a beautiful voice.

“DAAAARLEEEENE!!!”

Tennessee swiftly whipped out his cane when he heard the female’s name suddenly burst out from below! He darted over to look out, while the girl simply took slow, heavy steps there.

On the ground, about fifty feet away, was a portly male raccoon standing on the front porch of a small, one-story house. A few boards along the ceiling were missing, and chunks of white paint had either chipped away or were replaced with seemingly random colors. Trash bags were sloppily plopped against the sides, attracting more than a few flies.

But the man himself somehow looked even worse: he wore an ugly five-o-clock shadow, ripped blue overalls missing a strap, and a crooked cowboy hat. He was stepping back and forth in that same spot, almost like he had no control of himself … which was likely close to the truth, Tennessee thought when he saw the empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Yurrr pa’s gonna give yaa reeeeeaaaallll good lashin’ if y’ain’t- if-i-” A rather loud hiccup broke off his slurred demands. “if- ya-y-ya- JUSS GI’BACKHERE!!!”

… No … Tennessee thought. Please don’t tell me he’s her …

He then realized they’d been right by her home for a good five minutes … and she hadn’t felt compelled to let him know.

Darlene finally trudged herself up beside him, just far back enough to not be seen by her father. Much to Tennessee’s displeasure, the spark that had lit up her amber eyes was no longer there. She was in a self-huddle, gripping the sleeves of her blouse, the disheveled state of which suddenly made more sense.

She had genuinely forgotten that they were supposed to be going to her home … and it was so nice. She could not only appreciate the time away from the man who’d “raised” her … but the company of the unexpectedly heroic raccoon whom she’d led back here. Thus, when the violently loud reminder came of where they were even going in the first place, it truly was a swift pummeling of her spirits.

Her short brown hair fell a bit over her face.

Tennessee took a risk and gently brushed it aside. “Miss Dalrene … are you gonna be okay?” he asked with disarming softness in his voice.

She looked up at him … wanting to bask in that comforting visage just a little longer.

“Just Darlene’s fine. And … y-yeah, don’t worry …”

She was used to this … and it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go …

She took his hand, rubbing it as if he was the one who needed comfort.

Her heart then took over her body, and she pressed the bottom of his wrist to her lips for a brief kiss.

“Thank you, Tennessee … for everything …”

She pulled her hand away. Tennessee kept touching it for as long as he could, until it fully slid out of contact.

“Yeah … Yeah, anytime …”

Darlene descended down a ladder, keeping her eyes locked onto the outlaw until he was out of view. Sinking back to the dark depths of her life, while he lived on above, as free as she longed to be.

Tennessee merely stood there, watching as she nearly crawled her way over to the porch. Her father stumbled forward as soon as he saw her, his bottle shattering when he tossed it to the floor. All while Darlene herself barely even reacted … even as her father raised his hand up high.

The raccoon thief nearly leapt down to defend her again, his legs furiously twitching as he barely managed to keep them under control. Thankfully, the young lady was not hit, although the man was being none too gentle as he roughly grabbed her by the arm and yanked her inside the house.

Once the door was slammed shut, Tennessee let out a dejected sigh of his own.

Shake it off, pal, he told himself. Shake it off.

It wasn’t his place to interfere to that degree. He may have been an outlaw, willing and able to shake up whatever and whomever he pleased … but this was beyond that reach. Even he wasn’t so reckless as to break into an ordinary family’s home. No matter how much he wished to be Darlene’s hero a second time.

So, he let himself slink away. Back into the night.

Guess my hobby can only go so far, he thought sadly.

---

Two days had passed since Tennessee’s chance encounter with Darlene.

Though he was surely unlikely to ever see her again, the rogue of the West had never shaken the fair gal out of his mind. The more he thought about her, the more it sank in just how unlike anyone else she was, and it brought forth an itch that he was having trouble scratching.

Not to mention, he was still concerned for her well-being. How harsh had her father been to her? Had she been able to venture back into town alright?

… Was she still thinking about him?

But the raccoon promptly smacked his own forehead, snapping himself out of his own lamenting.

C’mon, Kid, get a move on, he scolded himself. You ain’t got a shot to get with her anyway. ‘Sides …

From the side of the roof on which he held himself, Tennessee focused his sights on the large saloon before him. The center of his next caper.

I got bigger fish to fry today …

The Suckers and Punch Saloon was the newest and largest bar this side of Cotton Mouth Bluff. It was impossible to miss, with its large arrow sign and name in giant letters poking out above its surroundings. As one got closer, its presence was further advertised by the bronze statue of two rowdy bulls riding a station wagon, as well as a row of flags with either the town’s insignia or pictures of various drinks.

The hangout was so popular that a train station had been set up right outside, both for shipments and passengers coming and going. Some folks headed inside the tavern for no other reason than to wait for their expected ride to show up … though some showed up to indulge in their habits well before the proper hours.

Tennessee was there for a wholly different reason: he’d heard from a source that a gang of lowly criminals was planning to rob this place of one of its shadier possessions. That source was as reliable as his self-control over his trigger finger, so he wagered it was about 60% likely to be right. Good enough for him.

The Kid wasn’t looking to steal the bar’s belongings themselves. But he did see it as an opportunity for a first-class ticket to this gang’s lair … and whatever else they’d hidden away.

---

“And yer sure it’s up there?” a scorpion whispered to a vulture next to him.

The two were huddling behind the horse-drawn wagon they’d commandeered, across the street from the very same saloon. They watched as two of their partners, a pair of foxes, casually walked inside. That meant it was time for them to move. They hopped in the vehicle, joining their three other associates who’d been sitting in silence.

A second, somewhat smaller scorpion sat in the driver’s seat. On the bench behind him was a purplish-pink bulldog, sporting massively bushy black eyebrows and a thin white shirt with the sleeves ripped out. He was sat next to a burly fox … one who was still bitter about his defeat at the hands of a ringtail the other night.

The scorpion tapped the wall, letting his brother know to slap the reins and take it over to the establishment.

“I seen it with my own two eyes, Carver,” the vulture assured. “Y’all don’t call me ‘Clive the Keenest’ for nothing. Them blokes got the stuff aaaaaaall cooped up in that vault.”

The “stuff” in question was a new spice-like drug, slowly on the rise in the black market due to its instant, strong, and often volatile effects on the user’s mood … spice that, as far as they were concerned, was still rightfully theirs.

“Nice,” Carver chuckled. “They’re gonna pay for rippin’ us off, big time.”

The carriage was soon parked right up against the saloon’s back wall, leaving just enough space for a lone individual to wedge themselves in. The vulture, never one to lower his defenses, kept scanning every corner of the street for even the tiniest whiff of suspicion against them.

He also glanced up at their final two compadres: a black lizard with orange spots, and a roadrunner, stationed on two separate houses on opposite sides of the tavern. The two rooftop dwellers remained still as statues, unnoticed by anyone not looking for them. They concealed long, sturdy rifles underneath their thin bodies, already fully loaded for immediate fire if any emergency broke out.

A smile formed on Clive’s beak. Very nice, he thought. Everyone’s adhering to the plan.

“I still can’t believe ya didn’t realize the gold was phony,” the scorpion driver said as he climbed back to join them. “Thought ya had a sharper eye than that, brother.”

“Shut it, Curry,” Carver growled, his tail scraping the floor irritably. “The joke’s gonna be on them soon anyway.”

“And you.” Curry kept prodding, this time turning his attention to the large fox. “You, Miles, and Jeffers just had to go get in trouble with that Tennessee guy. I swear, Milton, the longer I’m with this crew, the sloppier y’all get.”

“He said SHUT IT!!!” Milton launched out from his seat and grabbed his partner by the throat, squeezing tightly with his meaty white paws!

The two of them froze, along with the rest of the group, realizing that such an outburst would get them unwanted attention. Thinking fast, Clive scurried outside, sure enough seeing a group of passersby staring oddly at him.

“Nothin’ to see here, folks!” he said with his feathered hands held up. “Just, uh, family drama … Y’know how it goes, hehe …”

“Ain’t that the truth!” a male sheep shouted, much to the obvious annoyance of the female he was with.

The vulture stuck around long enough to watch everyone slowly move on, before he gave a “thumbs-up” denoting the coast was clear again.

The fox finally let Curry go … knowing full well he could have simply removed his fist earlier without making any more noise.

“Hmph. Can’t blame us for lookin’ to snag a bit more cash,” he said, hunching over with his arms sharply crossed. “Especially when that helpless lil’ lady came a-walkin’ by.”

He didn’t let on that said “helpless” lady had been fighting back well before Cooper showed up. Being found and dragged back to the hideout empty-handed and beaten up had been enough embarrassment for him that night.

“Can you all just zip it with your lousy bickering?!” the bulldog’s hushed whisper shot throughout the interior.

He started crawling his way to the back of the car on all fours, ready to finally get started on his portion of the job. “I swear, sometimes you make me wish I stayed back in New York!” he growled, referencing his heritage that had already been given away by the lack of his peers’ Southern drawl.

All grievances aside, it was agreed by everyone else that the careless frolicking three of their own had done should be left in the past. They had a plan, and it had already been set in motion.

They just needed to hope Jeffers and Miles could get where they needed to go.

---

A tavern was a haven for many. A place of refuge from the real world, where anyone could go and forget their troubles. As was the case for the portly raccoon that pushed its doors open on a lovely Saturday morning. He took a deep, long whiff of the air, already feeling intoxicated by the smell of the booze that had drawn him here with a force stronger than gravity itself.

But for the daughter whose arm was pulled firmly in his grasp, this place represented everything wrong with her life.

Every time Darlene was taken here, she wished that a freak accident would miraculously burn it to the ground … and, she very bleakly thought, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if her father went with it. She had lost count of how many days he’d forced her to spend watching him chuck sobriety in the trash like last week’s newspaper. Even though the sun was not even close to its peak in the sky yet, he somehow found it perfectly acceptable to get plastered with his daughter right beside him.

Thus, here she was again. Looking around, observing all the creeps, the figurative and literal snakes, gathered here in this dimly lit pit of the town. Some of them recognized her, giving her a clumsy wave with no awareness of how much she’d rather flip them off than wave back. The music and overly loud conversations all blended into an unpleasant mishmash of noise, though none of it was loud enough to bury her resentful thoughts.

“Oofph!!”

She suddenly found herself thrown in front of a barstool that smacked her in the stomach. Her father pushed her further into it like he was courteously pulling out a chair, before taking a seat himself. The front of the bar was rather understated, its only distinguishing feature being a small, circular gap in the ceiling above.

“Ey there, partner,” a rat bartender greeted as he very poorly cleaned a dish. “The usual?”

The raccoon man took out a cigar and lighter, puffing a large cloud of smoke in the rat’s face. “Naah,” he said. “How ‘bout somethin’ a little bit extra … one’a yer special …” He breathed in, almost sounding like a snore. “… Suckers’ Supremes …?”

Darlene didn’t bother to hold back a loud sigh as she buried her face in her hand.

“Ohhh, bold today,” the bartender said, carelessly throwing his plate on the counter. “Comin’ right up!”

Great … she thought. Now I probably gotta haul his sorry hide back home …

As the worker began preparing the drink, he noticed two foxes in aprons carrying a bin of dirty dishes. They walked past the bar, through the doors and into the back rooms. The rat raised an eyebrow, as he didn’t recognize either of them from any past shifts.

Eh, probably new guys, he thought. Doin’ better work than Saul and Bobby right now. Where’re those chumps anyway?

Said absent workers were trying to call out the answer from a locked closet in the wine cellar, completely stripped of their work garments.

Unfortunately, the copious amounts of rope around their bodies, and the layers of cloth binding their muzzles, stopped them from standing a chance against the loud activity above.

“HMMMRRRPH!!!”

“PHRRMMM, MRRMMFF!!!”

---

Breaking inside a popular tavern in broad daylight was, admittedly, a tiny bit more nerve-wracking than Tennessee would have thought. Sure, going down the vent from the rooftop was as basic as things got for him, but getting to that vent without anyone spotting him required walking across a wire that extended to the corner of the bar … meaning if one person looked up as he crossed, he was cooked.

But he had to go now. His target was about to make their move. Time’s a-wastin’!

So, as soon as his boots touched the paper-thin stretch, he kept his head straight. His arms stayed calmly outstretched, his legs kicking up and pushing him along with a level of precision, balance, and lightness no one but a Cooper could achieve … all in service of a technique that he himself had invented, his proud contribution to the legendary book that had trained all ancestors before him. It was the closest thing he could possibly imagine to walking on air … after all, there was no way any machine could ever make people truly fly.

By all the blessings of the world, he’d gone unspotted, finally making his way across. He got low and scurried away from the edge, staying on all fours like the prowler he was.

From there, as expected, actually sneaking in was a cakewalk.

In fact, as the Kid poked his upside-down head inside from within the vent shaft, he was amazed to see that the very first room he entered contained exactly what he’d been looking for:

A large, metal vault whose height spanned from ceiling to floor, boasting a large dial at its front.

Well, I’ll be luckier than a bag ’a horseshoes! he happily mused.

Tennessee rotated himself upright so he could fall with a soft landing into a crouching pose. He again kept himself down, his upper half parallel to the floor like a cat. He had to walk around the circular gap, through which he could see straight down to the main bar, as he practically slithered his way to the refined trove with not one patron catching a glimpse.

The thrifty thief then stood erect again. He stretched his fingers, giving his knuckles and neck a good, palpable crack. He then pressed his ear to the door, got his fingers around the dial, and began working his magic.

Little did he know just how quickly he needed to work.

Already, his two unknowing fox rivals had begun making their way up the stairs to this top floor.

To Jeffers and Miles, it seemed like they hadn’t gotten any unwanted attention as they waltzed through the bar in their stolen getups. The indignity of wearing these stupid aprons with the bar’s bull-themed logo on them was a small price to pay, as it allowed them to blend in and slip past the bar’s main section. Jeffers even snickered at the thought of those two employees being found all bound and gagged, well after they themselves were gone with the goods.

They were at the top now.

They turned the doorknob, expecting to be greeted on the other side by the vault they sought.

The door opened.

And there it was.

Unguarded, untampered, clear as day.

As the two crooks approached, they noticed tiny traces of dirt and a few pebbles scattered along the floor’s circumference. Heh, maybe one’a them guys we bagged was on clean-up crew, Jeffers thought.

“Hehehe …” he chuckled.

“Shhh!” Miles shushed his shorter companion. “Laugh when we’re bathin’ in spice!”

“Hahhah … right … hmmmm …”

Had Miles been paying a bit more attention to the other fox than the path in front of him, he may have picked up on a few other worrying cues from Jeffers: minimized self-control, a clumsiness to his gait, a few too many hiccups … the smell of alcohol on his breath.

This wasn’t exactly the first bar Jeffers had visited today.

“Get the stuff ready,” the tall fox said, glancing at the tub still in his hands. “I’m keepin’ watch.”

As he headed back to the door, Jeffers rummaged through the dishes and silverware, pushing it aside for what had been hidden underneath the entire time:

Many sticks of unlit dynamite, along with an accompanying lighter and a large bowl of reinforced steel.

No one on the team had the brains or sensory know-how to properly crack a safe like this open. Nor would they be able to fit their haul out through the window once they had it. Therefore, they knew going in that they’d need to rely on more … explosive techniques.

Which was fine with Jeffers. His mouth curled in unstable twitches as he brought the dynamite up to the lock.

Unaware that someone had already beaten them to the punch.

Inside the vault lay a large crate containing dozens of sacks of unrefined spice, bundled up in a pile that went well over four feet deep … which left just enough room to hide a lithe, flexible raccoon.

Having wriggled and slid his way down through the mounds of spice, Tennessee lay there. Bundled up, as compact as possible, at the bottom. His brown eyes peered out through the tiniest cracks in the stock, twinkling with anticipation and mischief as he forced himself to bottle up his energy. He could hear the other thieves outside, meaning they’d be in any second now.

Ready to take him to a promising payday.

---

“Here ya go!”

The bloodshot eyes of Darlene’s father lit up as the rat bartender returned with a tall glass of warm, muggy brown liquid, mixed with swirls of unidentifiable red and sprinkles of spice on the surface. The patron didn’t bother with a thank-you, although Darlene let her golden irises send a scowl the worker’s way.

Her father didn’t even wait for him to turn his back before thumping the girl across the head.

“Behave yerself,” he uttered sharply. “Don’t go causin’ another incident.”

Darlene didn’t dignify him with any sort of response. Like she gave one spit if she embarrassed him! Especially after her last escape attempt, which had been stopped by other customers who knew her father well enough.

In fact, after her encounter with a certain ring-tailed outlaw, Darlene was feeling particularly willing to do something rash if it meant getting away for good.

“Yeeeeaaaahhhh honeyyy …”

A light-brown weasel suddenly slid into the seat next to her. She could smell the booze on him before she even turned to look at his slouched, droopy posture. That didn’t stop him from making a half-hearted pass at her. “Ya gotta relaaaax … Lem-meme showwww y’anice … time …”

As he made a move to put his arm around her, the agitated female was ready to smack him, then kick the stool out from under him. But her father jumped in first, taking his drink and splashing it sharply on his face. The smaller male flipped out, his limbs flying everywhere as he fell off his seat and thudded pathetically on the floor.

“Rrrrgh …” Darlene’s father puffed. “Gimme another!” he shouted to the bartender, who had just been looking on and trying to stay out of the way. When his customer coughed exceedingly loudly for emphasis, he was whipped back into action.

Darlene would have appreciated her father’s defense … had he not also done that with every other man who’d been interested in her. Including the ones that she actually could see herself with …

… That thought brought her back to Tennessee again.

She’d thought about the gentlemanly thief a fair number of times, actually. How in one single encounter, he’d shown her more kindness, joy, and even concern than almost everyone left in her personal life combined. His energy almost bordered on manic, but he had his wits about him … just the combination that was all too enticing to the frustrated young lady.

Not to mention, after he’d explained that he only went after other criminals, it was clear he was doing more good than anyone who claimed to serve justice. Especially those who knew of her situation but supposedly could do nothing … or simply didn’t care.

The girl’s leg shook against the stool beneath her. Her tail went stiff as her ears absorbed the rowdy drinkers, the catcalls, the train’s whistle as it pulled up to the nearby stop. She contrasted that with what she could have: liberation, open skies, a place she felt comfortable sleeping at night … the ability to take whatever she wanted …

Tennessee hadn’t birthed these thoughts of rebellion within her; she’d yearned to break these flimsy laws before. But he was the first one to show her that it not only could be done, but that someone could do it and still maintain their decency. She wouldn’t be a terrible person for crossing that line.

She couldn’t leave home because she had no place to run to, nor did she have the money to provide for herself. Her father certainly didn’t want her going anywhere, hence why he chased off even the most unremarkable of men that she’d gladly marry just to get away from him.

But … if she was to get the money through … other means …

She could see the fat wad sticking out of his pockets. Cold cash that he’d earned through hard work yet constantly blew on his own toxic pastimes. It was inches away … perfect for the taking … as was the pistol he had holstered at all times …

Y’know, Tennessee, she thought. Maybe you’re onto somethin’ after all …

---

As soon as he heard the explosion of dynamite outside the vault, Tennessee let himself sink completely into the spice hoard, keeping as still as the bags themselves. Even his fidgety tail locked up in place, not a single stripe even daring to wiggle a millimeter.

The door was pushed open, and Jeffers, who’d been shielded from the blast by the dome of steel he held over the explosive, entered. On the other side of the attic, his partner had already blown up a large hole in the back wall.

Back on the ground, just on the other side, the bulldog on their team had just finished prying open another large wall by hand. His brute, dense muscle was only barely able to fit between the tavern and the carriage, the latter of which was positioned in a way to block their work off from any onlookers.

Once holes had been formed on both sides, the result was a way for Jeffers and Miles to drop themselves and the spice straight down from the attic to their escape vehicle … within the wall itself.

Now came the part where they had to act fast.

“Alright, everything’s ready!” Miles whisper-shouted. “Get the spice!”

Jeffers was eager to oblige … if shakily so.

His continued inebriation caused him to thud into the doorway as he slogged himself to the spice crate. After searching several seconds for what was literally right in front of him, he found the box in question and lifted it up.

He made it three steps before dropping it.

Tennessee stayed frozen even as the harsh vibrations shook his contorted body.

Great, he thought. Got a bunch’a klutzes handlin’ me.

“Gimme another stick of dynamite,” Miles requested. “Gotta make this hole a bit bigger to- hey, careful with that!”

He turned to face his partner in crime, watching him pick the crate back up only to have it slip out of his fingers again. “Eaasssy man, s-stuff’s heavy …” he mumbled.

The sluggishness in the fox’s voice threw Miles off, especially when they were under such pressure … In fact, as he kept watching, he now noticed just how much about Jeffers was off. His inability to haul the goods he’d been assigned to carry. His lousy, almost incompetent manner of walking. The way his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on one thing …

… All happening as they were robbing a bar …

The realization hit him like a sledgehammer to the stomach.

“Oh, for the love’a- Jeffers!! You’ve been drinkin’!?”

Jeffers dropped the box again, this time out of surprise that he’d been caught. Much to the annoyance of the stealthy raccoon inside, whose legs were starting to hurt from the thudding.

Consarnit!

“Hey, whatchu meaan-n-mean …” Jeffers tried to suddenly sound coherent. “I’m fine, y’know … s’yer problem …”

But the scowl on the other vulpine criminal’s face showed he wasn’t believed for an instant.

“Aight … maaaybe just a lil’ drink … or … two …”

“Ya blithering, slug-for-brains moron!!” Miles stormed over and grabbed his idiotic friend by the collar of his shirt, lifting him off his feet and shaking him aggressively! “Ya couldn’t keep yerself on the wagon for an hour!!? Ya got one! Lick! Of smarts in that skull’a yers!?” He knocked the fox on the head, hard, with each emphasized word.

“Pete’s sake, canna guy havin’a fun on the job?!” Jeffers shoved Miles off of him, barely able to stay on his feet as he fell back down. “Oh Jeffers, don’t go drinkin’! Jeffers, we shuddn’t go muggin’ people in’a streets! Blah-dee blah-dee bl-mmph!!”

“Keep it down!” Miles wrapped a paw around his muzzle! Though the busywork below would disguise them well enough, they couldn’t risk being heard! “Are ya tryin’ to get us all in a noose?!”

“Mmmphhhmm- ya know what?!” Jeffers smacked the other male’s hand away, a drunken snarl creeping through his visible, dirty, yellow teeth. “Ya want yer dynamite?!”

Before Miles could even register what was happening, his partner whipped out another explosive stick, lit it, and threw it right at him. “Here’s yer stinkin’ dynamite!”

“Woah woah woah, what’re ya doin’!!?” Miles yelped, swatting the stick away in a brief moment of panic!

Causing it to fall down through the large circular gap.

Below, Darlene’s father raised his glass again, prepared to take another delectable swig.

But the dynamite landed comfortably in the glass, splashing it on his face.

Everyone’s eyes shot in his direction.

His head cocked in incredulity as the sparks sizzled.

“Oh … no …” Miles said above.

Darlene’s father let out a simple, “What the f-”

And then the explosion went off.

A ball of fire consumed everything at the front of the bar, assaulting customers with deadly heat and a dangerously propulsive force! Glass and wood were sent flying, smashing into the fleeing patrons whose screams couldn’t even be heard through their own ringing, deafened ears! Their shadows scattered through the rushing cloud of smoke, shoving each other aside as, in their sudden terror, some of them couldn’t even find their way to the exit of this now chaotic establishment!

The roadrunner and lizard shot forward as they too heard the kaboom from the rooftops! Their guns veered all around, their fingers touching the triggers to shoot up anything that looked like an instant threat to their operation. As people came flooding out en masse, they even considered blindly shooting at all of them in case they were potential witnesses, only hesitating because doing so could make whatever had happened even worse for them.

“NOOO!!!” Miles screeched, no longer caring about their cover! “Sonofamotherflippin’ manglefanglefrick- GO!!!” he snapped at Jeffers, whose life he was questioning ending right there!

Caution was out the window and into the orbit of space! Heck, so was keeping what they came for in one piece for that matter! They just needed to salvage what they could as fast as possible!

Tennessee felt himself being lifted and hurried along! His already-tense body had recoiled even more when he heard the demolition go off, and it remained as such as the frantic screams and shoves let him know how bad it was down there!

These pointy-hatted jokers! he thought indignantly! He’d dealt with amateur crooks in his days, but never had he seen anyone screw up this badly! This was making his slip-up that had cost him part of his ear look like a rousing success! He debated in his head whether it was even worth sticking to the plan or whether he should just abort and run, taking advantage of the chaos to slip away and forego whatever riches these fools had somehow scrounged up.

But then …

“Just throw the spice over!” Miles shouted! “We’ll rustle up what’s left!”

Jeffers did as he was told: with a meaty windup, he chucked the large spice supply through the too-small hole in the wall, breaking more of the wood and letting the crate fall, unaided, down the interior “chute.”

The scorpion brothers and everyone else in the carriage had been waiting patiently but tensely for their stash to be carefully lowered down to them. So, the last thing they’d been expecting to hear and see was the large wooden box suddenly smashing to the ground in front of them, instantly shattering into chunks with the sacks spilling out!

Along with an orange-wearing raccoon.

“Nnnnggghhhh …”

The Kid’s limbs couldn’t even move for a good few seconds. His whole front felt like it had been subjected to a belly flop into the Grand Canyon. He pounded his chest as he coughed up the ensuing dust, waving it away along with the spice dust from newly opened bags.

After feeling around for his precious cane and clutching it in his palm, the raccoon got to his hands and knees with a few more loud hacks.

He was then subject to even more abuse when the two foxes landed on his back, flattening him again!

“WHAT’RE YA STANDIN’ AROUND FOR!!?” Miles screamed! “HELP ME GET THESE SACKS ON BOARD AND LET’S HEAD FOR THE HILLS!!!”

That sharply spurred them all into action! They got off the carriage, also not caring to conceal themselves anymore! Before they could even think to ask questions, they took turns scooping up spice bags and chucking them into the vehicle, without even checking if anything was spilling out! As people came fleeing out of the saloon, crying and begging for outside help, their adrenaline shot through the roof, making them even more careless, accidentally dumping half the spice out of some bags!

To a point where they only noticed the still-downed Tennessee when they were nearly finished loading up.

“Hold up!” Clive said, pointing a feather at the exposed crook.

Bewildered looks were exchanged between most of the crew. This was just another inexplicable occurrence that they could barely process on top of everything else in the mere seconds they had to respond!

All except for three of them.

Miles, Milton, and Jeffers.

The very trio that had been thwacked and thwarted by this miserable little man. A man who had apparently decided to interfere with them again, as if he hadn’t already been enough of a thorn in their sides.

As Tennessee finally looked up, he saw their three enraged faces alongside the other slack-jawed looks.

Enraged faces that slowly curled upward … into knowing, vengeful sneers.

The raccoon’s ears flattened, and his halfhearted grin couldn’t disguise the knowing apprehension he felt in that moment.

Well … shoot …

Milton hauled the Kid up by the vest and yanked him inside the carriage.

“GO!! MOVE!!” he shouted!

“Giddy up!” Curry slapped the reins, prompting the horse to break into a gallop as their desperate escape began!