Information

Hanna
Legacy Name: Hanna

The Custom Marsh Kanis
Owner: Faber

Age: 4 years, 9 months, 1 week

Born: July 15th, 2019

Adopted: 4 years, 9 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: July 15th, 2019

Pet Spotlight Winner
September 10th, 2021

Statistics

• Level: 3
   
• Strength: 15
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 57
   
• Books Read: 56
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Candy Maker

I remember the first time I saw a man who wasn't my Daddy. I was little, maybe 4 or 5 years old, Mama was still alive then. We lived on a farm some miles outside of town. Mama would go into town and get us things if we needed them, but mainly we kept to ourselves. It was for our own safety, Daddy had always said.

One day, there was a plume of dust rising on the horizon, and Mama made me hide under the floorboards while Daddy hid out back in the shed where he kept his guns. I could see and hear near everything through a crack in the floor below the table. Mama sat calmly in the kitchen, waiting with a gun of her own in one hand. When there was a knock on the door, she simply raised her voice to be heard through it.

"Who's there?"

"It's your Uncle Bill, Lizzie." A man said through the door, "I don't mean to scare ya, but I have to talk to you. Can I come in?"

"That's Mrs. Freeman to you, Bill. You comin' as my uncle or as the sheriff?" Mama asked.

"Both, Ma'am. There's a threat in town and I worry for you and your husband's safety."

She paused, then pointed the gun through the door at whoever was on the other side, and opened the door a crack. Once she was satisfied that nothing shady was about, she lowered the gun and let the man in.

"What is it, Bill?" she asked, getting right to the point.

The man took off his hat and held it in his hands. "There's a band of northern soldiers looking for trouble in town. My deputies and I are doing what we can to escort them out, but they've got connections with the Mayor and politics are getting in the way of keeping the peace. I wanted to give you and yours the heads up, seeing as we're kin."

"I appreciate the warning, Bill, but we've made it this long on our own. If the drought and animals can't get us, nothing can."

The man bowed his head. "Begging your pardon, Ma'am, but I'll take a drought or a bear single-handed before I take on a gang of young men with more bullets than they have brains, any day. You need to be careful."

"We are careful. Every day." She held up the gun as evidence of that fact. "That's how we're still alive."

The man put his hat back on and tipped the brim. "I'd just like to see you stay that way. Life's hard enough for folk like your husband."

"Hard enough," she echoed, and opened the door again for him to leave.

I remember nearly every word, though at the time I didn't understand any of what they were talking about. I also remember the way my Mama didn't loosen her grip on the gun until the dust from the man's retreating horse was gone from the sky.

A few nights after that, I had to hide under the floorboards again, and this time it was too dark for me to see anything, but I heard lots of shouts and gunfire, and one particularly loud boom. I found out later that had been from my Daddy firing the canon he normally kept under a tarp in the shed. My Mama and Daddy came and got me the next morning. They were covered in dirt and sweat, and there were several new mounds of dirt in the back field that hadn't been there before. They were like when one of the horses died and Daddy had buried it out there beneath the corn.

The next night, I woke in a cold sweat, yelling for my Mama. She came and sat by my bed and stroked my brow until I didn't feel so scared anymore.

"Were those men gonna kill us?" I asked her, when I felt brave enough.

"They were gonna try, baby," Mama said gently. "But they weren't gonna succeed. You know why?"

I shook my head.

"It's because we're lucky. See this?" Mama pulled a small trinket out of her skirt pocket. It was furry, and the tan grey color of a rabbit's hide, and after a moment I realized that was because it was from a rabbit. It was a rabbit's foot, cut off at the joint and sewn up to hang on a thin cord of leather.

"What's that?" I asked.

"This is a good luck charm," Mama explained, and pressed it into my small hand. "It belonged to a very lucky creature, and now its luck is ours. I need you to keep it safe. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mama," I said obediently. I closed my fist on the rabbit's foot and intended to keep safe forever.

"Good girl. Now get some sleep, there's still chores to do in the morning."

I nodded and curled onto my side to sleep once more, the rabbit's foot clutched to my heart.

We didn't have any other visitors after that for a long time.

---

A few years after that night, Mama and I got sick. Mama went into town to get some medicine, but when she got back her fever was so high she fell asleep and didn't wake up again. I slept a lot too, but eventually I woke up, and I helped Daddy bury Mama out by the tallest oak tree.

I didn't feel lucky, any more.

The new few years were harder without Mama. Daddy said I wasn't big enough to go into town by myself, and when Daddy needed to go to town, he always had to go the long way around and pretend he was coming from a different direction so they wouldn't find out where we lived.

Daddy was preparing for a trip like that one morning when I asked him, "Daddy, why don't the town people like us?"

"It's me they don't like, girly," he replied, ruffling my hair, "They don't know about you, but if they did, they'd like you just fine."

"Why don't they like you, then?" I pestered.

"It's 'cause I used to belong to a cruel man, but I ran away and came up here to the North to live with your Mama. Some folks don't think it's right that I ran away."

I nodded. I still didn't completely understand, but I was beginning to fill in some of the gaps. "Those men that came the night you and Mama were shooting, were they mad because you ran away?"

A pained look came over my Daddy's face, and I almost regretted asking. "Yeah, girlie," he said after a moment, "They were mad I ran away."

I nodded. I had wondered about that night a lot, but never dared directly ask about it before. My daddy was a man of few words, but he never lied to me, and I always appreciated that about him.

"You'll be safe in town though, right?" I asked.

"I'll be careful," he said, which didn't completely reassure me. He finished packing and gathered his things to head out the door. "Keep an ear out for the horses, they'll spook if something bad's coming our way," he said, opening the door and stepping out into the early morning sunshine, "And keep an eye on the horizon when you can spare it."

"Yes, Daddy," I said, and I leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"I love you, girlie," he said, tipping the brim of his hat as he turned to leave.

"I love you too, Daddy," I called after him.

---

I wasn't expecting him to come back until the next day. Usually on these trips he'd get a room in town if they were cheap, or he'd camp out under the stars if they weren't, before heading back home. That evening though, he flew back home on his horse, both their chests heaving so bad it scared me.

"What is it?" I cried, running out to meet him.

"Sheriff Bill's dead. There's a new sheriff in town," he said between gasps of breath, "he ran me out of town, he's got men with guns coming after. We need to ride. Now."

"Ride where?"

His horse, Jackson, was panting, and had a wild look in his eye. If he'd rode him into town the long way, and back hard the short way, Jackson was probably at his limit. I didn't think we could push him much further. Our other horse was still in her stall, a fast mare I had named Buttercup, who had a fondness for me. She could carry me a good distance before tiring, but if she was carrying us both, I didn't think we could get far.

"Doesn't matter, we just need to get as far away from town as we can get, you hear?" He slid off Jackson's back and tossed me the reins. "I'm going back inside to get some food. You get Buttercup and meet me out back."

"Yes, Daddy," I said obediently. I guided Jackson to his stall, and he seemed grateful. I had a sick feeling in my chest that if we left him we might not see him again.

"Sorry, Jackson," I said, stroking his heaving flank. "I won't tie you up, in case we can't come back for you. You know where the hay is, and you know your way back to town." I removed his halter, and Jackson tossed his head as if he understood. "Goodbye," I told him.

I got Buttercup out of her stall and hopped on her bareback to ride up to the house. I glanced to the horizon, in the direction of town, and saw the tell-tale plume of dust signalling riders heading our way.

"Daddy!" I shouted, and ran inside, "Riders!"

He was busy packing up salted beef for us to take with us, but he dropped it when he heard my shout. "How close?" he asked.

"Close," I said, "Can't see 'em yet, but they're coming in fast."

He nodded. "They'll be here soon. Can't outrun 'em. I'm going to get my guns, you get under the floorboards."

"I know how to shoot," I said calmly. He knew it, too. He had been the one to teach me, spending hours perfecting my aim and ability to hit a moving target. He was still a better shot with a rifle, but I was a better shot with a pistol.

"I know, girlie. But shooting men ain't like shooting cowpies. Men shoot back. I already lost your mother, I'm not losing you. End of discussion."

It took everything in me not to argue with him. Tears ran down my face, but I brushed them away. "Yes, Daddy."

"That's my girl," he said. "Now, get. I love you."

"I love you too."

I hid under the floorboards, clutching the small pistol Daddy had given me for my birthday last year. It didn't take long for the riders to surround the house. Someone pounded on the front door.

"Open the door! This is Sheriff Kent. We have an arrest warrant out for the man who calls himself Jack Freeman!"

There was more shouting outside, and I couldn't make out the words, but then I heard a familiar boom. The floorboards shook from the sound and power of the cannon. The sound of multiple guns being fired in quick succession followed shortly after.

"The warrant says Dead or Alive, Jack!" The man who had called himself Sheriff Kent shouted over the din. "Guess you mean to come dead!"

There was one more boom from the canon, and more gunfire, and then a sound that chilled my heart. Silence.

There was a sigh from the Sheriff, still standing by our front door. "Goddammit," he said under his breath. He raised his voice and continued, walking away from the door and towards the shed where my Daddy had been shooting. I could hear the spurs on his boots as he walked. "You took out my men, Jack! That's impressive. Unfortunately for you, that means I get to kill you myself. I was going to try and go easy on you, take you alive, hold a trial, the whole bit. I can't do that anymore, Jack. You chose this. I hope you've made your peace."

There were more gunshots, but these came from the shed, not the sheriff. He was still alive! I crept out from my own hiding place. The sheriff didn't know I was here, if I could sneak up behind him, I could shoot him, and Daddy and I could ride away just like he planned.

"I know you have a cannon and a small armory back there," Sheriff Kent continued, "But you haven't hit me yet, and I don't think you will. Your cannon isn't accurate enough to his one man, and I think you're running out of bullets. Just how do you think this is going to end?"

I heard the sound of our hunting rifle shoot into the dirt. If my dad had switched to the slow, one-shot rifle, he really was running out of bullets.

"That's what I thought," Sheriff Kent said, as if reading my mind. I gripped my pistol tighter and unlatched the front door, slowly enough to not be heard.

The rifle went off again after a minute. He was a quick reload, but it was still a time-consuming process. That was when I heard the Sheriff take off running towards the shed.

I threw open the door and raised my pistol to shoot him just as the sound of two guns firing at the same moment hit my ears. I hadn't taken my shot. The sheriff had been knocked off his feet, but he gingerly pulled himself back up. I looked past him and at my daddy. He was holding his spent pistol, and bleeding from a wound in his stomach.

"Daddy!" I shouted.

"What the...you've got a kid, Jack? I didn't know you had a kid," Sheriff Kent said with a short laugh.

I aimed my pistol and shot, but in my panic I missed. The diminutive pistol was a single-shot, like the hunting rifle, and I had no bullets to reload.

"She's not as good a shot as you, Jack," the sheriff continued. "Too bad."

"Hanna," I heard my father wheeze, "Run, please..."

I stood there, frozen. I wanted to run, I wanted to scream, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything but just stand there.

The sound of hoofbeats in the distance snapped me out of it. I turned to see the dust on the horizon. They weren't coming from the direction of town.

"Dammit," the Sheriff said, and whistled for his horse. "Damn savages must have heard our little shootout. Guess I'll have to wait to collect my bounty."

I ran to my daddy, falling to my knees and pressing my hands on his bleeding abdomen. I could feel his breathing coming in shallow pants.

"I'll be back for you too, girl," Sheriff Kent said as he mounted his horse, "We can have some fun together once I get paid for killing your old man."

I ignored his terrible words. The man shouted to spur on his horse, and the beast took off in a cloud of hoof beats and dust.

"Hanna," I heard my father whisper once the sheriff was out of view.

"No, Daddy," I said, "Don't speak. I gotta keep pressure on the wound."

He shook his head. I could see it pained him. "Hanna," he repeated, "Take my gun."

He pushed his pistol towards me. It was a shiny silver Colt Peacemaker, and it was his favorite. "Daddy, I can't," I started to say.

"You can. You will. There's a box of ammo under my bed. Get it, and take Buttercup, and go." His voice was getting softer, but he still had that firm look on his face that meant no arguing.

"Not without you," I said, tears falling freely down my face.

"Go. I'll be with your mother soon, but she'd kill me herself if I left you in danger." He gave a small smile at that.

I took the gun. It was heavy and hot in my hand. "I love you, Daddy," I choked out.

"I love you too, girly. Go. I'm in peace." He closed his eyes, and gave a last ragged breath.

I kissed his brow, and pulled the tarp over that usually covered the cannon over his still form. I ran back to the house to get the supplies we had gathered, as well as the box of ammo. I grabbed some clothes as an afterthought, and I was about to shut the drawer when the brown grey fur of the old rabbit's foot my Mama had given me caught my eye. I had long since stopped believing in its lucky powers, but I looped it around my neck anyway.

I was about to head out when I paused at the doorway to my Daddy's bedroom. His hat, a brown leather stetson, was sitting on his bed. Without allowing myself to think too hard about it, I took his hat, and shoved it on my head. I had tried it on a few times as a child, and it had always been too big for me. Now, it fit perfectly.

It didn't take me more than a few moments to grab everything from the house, but once I had everything and was headed out back to the horse stalls, the new group of riders reached the house.

They were riders of the wild people, who my Daddy called Apache. They sometimes rode through on their way to town. They never stopped by the house, but would nod at me or Daddy if they caught our eye on their way past. This time, however, a man stopped, got off his horse, and walked up to me.

"We heard gunfire. What happened?" he asked me in slightly accented English.

"Lawman from town killed my Daddy. Said they had a warrant because he was a runaway."

The Apache man bowed his head. "I am sorry to hear it. You should leave. It's not safe here with your father gone."

I nodded. "I am."

"Good," he replied. He hopped back on his horse and whistled to the other riders, who took off back in the direction they came from. "Go in peace," he said to me as he turned to follow them.

"And you. Thank you," I said, watching them go. Once the dust had begun to clear once more, I ran to ready Buttercup for the ride, and we took off for town. I knew the Sheriff would be coming back our way before too long, but I intended to get to him first. We had unfinished business.

---

I knew how to survive in the desert, at least for a little while. My Daddy had made sure of that. "The desert is not your friend," he had said to me on more than one occasion, "But she'll provide for you, if you know where to look." I had a vague plan of traveling North, finding a more friendly place and maybe getting work, but first I needed to right a wrong.

"I know you wouldn't approve, Daddy," I spoke aloud as I rode, "But you're not here. I need to make the man who's responsible for that pay." I felt the hilt of the peacemaker in it's holster on my hip. I had had to tie the belt ends together, since there was no hole in the leather tight enough to stay on my hips, but it would do for now.

The sun set in the West, and the moon rose orange on the horizon, but I pushed Buttercup forward until the last red glow left the sky, and it was too dangerous to continue. I couldn't risk Buttercup catching a hoof on an unseen rock or in a snake's hole.

Sleep did not come to me easily that night. I found a stream for Buttercup to drink from, and I filled my now empty canteens. I let her graze on the spare grasses on a long lead line and I laid down to stare up at the stars.

Around the time the moon reached its highest peak in the sky I had the feeling that someone was watching me. I sat up and looked around, and caught eyes with a rabbit. It hopped closer, and I could just barely see in the moonlight that it had something on its head. A crown, maybe?

"You're a long way from home," the rabbit said in a clear, calm voice.

"It wasn't my choice," I said, as if talking to a rabbit was the most normal thing I could do.

"We all have choices," the rabbit replied. He hopped closer, and I could see the shapes on his head weren't a crown at all, it was two deer antlers, growing there like they belonged, "Even when it feels like all choice is taken from us."

"What would you have done?" I asked.

"Probably the same as you," he said, and it sounded like he was faintly amused. "But I don't run so well these days, so I wouldn't have been so lucky." He held out one of his front paws, and it was then that I noticed his foot was missing, cut off at the joint.

I pulled the leather cord of the rabbit's foot Mama had given me off from around my neck. "This is yours, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Would you like it back?"

He shook his head, and his light colored antlers caught the moonlight like a dove's wings. "No, child. Where you're going, you will need the luck more than I."

I nodded in acceptance and thanks. "Will I see you again?"

"In time. Take care, child. And run fast."

"I will," I promised.

With a wink, he turned on his heel and hopped away into the darkness. I did not stir again, until the sky grew pink in the East.

As soon as there was enough light to see by, Buttercup and I rode again. I rode her hard as I dared until I could just begin to see the outline of town ahead of us. Then, we slowed down. A lone rider coming into town in a rush would catch notice. A rider coming in looking to be in no hurry was mundane and would likely be ignored. I pulled my Daddy's hat low to shield my face and we rode into town, looking--I hoped--like a local farm hand running into town on some casual errand.

Once I was in town, I tried not to gawk. I knew enough about the layout of the town from the maps my parents had shown me, but seeing it in person was something else. There were so many buildings, and so many people, even for how early it was, standing around, talking and doing business. There were a few other people with horses like me, but most of them were on foot, leading their horses by the reins, so I slid off

Buttercup to do the same.

I remembered from the maps that the town's jail was near the center of town, connected to town hall, so I headed up Main Street. There were several horses hitched at the front of a tavern nearby to town hall, so I tied Buttercup there. She gave me a worried look, and I stroked her muzzle reassuringly. A boy who looked to be about my age came up beside me and started to tie up his own horse.

"Nice hat," the boy said to me. He had an open, kind-looking face.

"Thanks," I said, not really wanting to be noticed, but not wanting to be rude, either. "It was my Daddy's."

"Woah, nice gun, too! What is that, a .45?" He asked, excitement and a little awe in his voice.

"Do you know where the Sheriff is?" I asked, ignoring his question.

The boy shook his head. "Nah, he's probably out on business. He's had a lot of that since the old Sheriff was killed."

"Killed?" I asked.

"Yeah, murdered," the boy said with the same awe in his voice. "There's rumors that the new Sheriff himself did it, but none can prove it. He's all we got for law around here, so I guess I can't blame people for not questioning him too hard."

"Guess not," I said quietly.

"Say, uh, what do you need the Sheriff for, anyway? Is there trouble? I can help, I got a gun, too, back home. It's not as nice as yours, but it'll do in a pinch!"

I shook my head. "No trouble. I just need to talk to him, is all. Do you know when he'll be back?"

"No, but I know where he'll be when he returns." The boy spun and pointed to the tavern where our horses were hitched. "That's where he drinks his whiskey. He always likes a glass when he's in town, before he does any business."

"That's perfect. Thanks," I said.

"Don't mention it! Say, what was your name? Mine's Jack!"Jack. That was my Daddy's name. A look must have come over my face because the boy Jack suddenly sputtered an apology.

"Oh I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me your name! I wasn't meaning to overstep, honest! You just seem nice, is all!"

"No, it's not that. Uh, Hanna. My name is Hanna."

Jack put a finger to his forehead by way of farewell. "Nice to meetcha, Hanna. I hope to see you again."

"Thanks, and you as well," I said and touched the brim of my hat the way I'd seen my Daddy do to say goodbye. Jack walked to the building next door to the tavern and went inside. I watched him go, and looked around to see if anyone else was watching or had noticed me. Once I was sure no one had, I walked up to the tavern, and went inside.

---

It was dark and smokey inside the tavern. There was music playing from a piano near the bar, and a few people were sitting around playing cards and drinking. They all had their hats off, so I took mine off as well, and sat at one of the unoccupied tables.

"You lost, darling?" a feminine voice came from behind me.

I turned and saw a tall woman with dark skin like my father's, dressed in a fluffy yellow dress. "Sorry," I said, "I heard the Sheriff comes here sometimes."

"All the time, darling, that man drinks like a fish," she said, and walked up to sit at my table. "What do you need from that old snake?"

"Got business with him," I said, staring down at the wood table. I was trying to avoid being seen, but it wasn't working very well with her sitting here.

She nodded sagely. "Don't we all, sugar, don't we all. You just look a little young to be in a place like this. Sweet thing like you, I don't think you should be here alone."

I took a gamble, I didn't really have a choice. "I need to tell him something. About one of the wanted posters. I just need to talk to him, then I will leave."

The woman put a hand on my arm and squeezed softly. "Alright. I'll look after you till then, hm? I'm due for a drink anyway. You seem like good company." She turned to the bar and raised her voice. "Hey,

Simon, can I get a glass of my usual for me and a glass of sarsaparilla for my friend?"

A man behind the bar, presumably Simon, nodded and poured our drinks and brought them to the table. I tasted the drink. It was almost impossibly sweet, but my throat was bone dry all of the sudden, and I gulped down more than I meant to.

"There you go, I knew you needed it," she said, sipping her own drink. "What's your name, anyway? I'm Jessamine."

She held her hand out for me to shake, so I shook it. "Hanna," I said.

"Glad to meet you, Hanna. I take it you're from out of town?"

I nodded.

"I thought so. You mind if I tell you a little bit about this place?"

I shrugged my go ahead.

"Don't stay here. Not if you can help it. This town is run by thieves and drunks. And that Sheriff you're waiting for, he may be the worst of the lot. The man who was Sheriff before, Bill, he was a decent man, but Kent is anything but. Whatever it is you think you need to tell him, you would probably be better off telling your folks and let them find someone else to help you."

"Got no folks," I said, trying not to let the tears come back, "They're dead."

"Oh, deary, I'm so sorry to hear it," Jessamine said and squeezed my arm again. "Do you have any other family you could talk to? I can help you find them, if you like?"

I shook my head. "It's just me."

Jessamine sighed and took another sip of her drink. "That is some rotten luck. Too much of that going on, nowadays. What do you think you'll do? After you talk to the Sheriff?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe ride North? Find a town, look for work, I guess."

Jessamine tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "I have a cousin who lives in a town up North. She may know of a family who needs a nanny. She offered to find work for me like that last I saw her, but I turned her down. I like my freedom too much."

I gazed at her, and for the first time since my Daddy died, I actually thought about what my future might look like.

"I could write her, if you wanted?" she continued.

"I..." I started, but then the tavern door opened, and Sheriff Kent rushed in. I stood up on instinct, knocking back my chair in the process.

"Oh look, he's back. Welcome as a rattlesnake at a square dance," I heard Jessamine say dryly beside me.

Though I had finished the sarsaparilla, my mouth had gone dry as the road outside again. I put my hand on the peacemaker at my waist.

The Sheriff hadn't noticed me yet. "Simon!" he shouted, "Get me a glass, top shelf. I just bagged another runaway and I'm going to turn him in for the cash as soon as the damn savages crawl back to where they came from." He sat down at the bar, his back to me.

Jessamine seemed to notice me standing there, and must have sensed something was amiss. "Hanna, darling, why don't you sit back down and let him have his drink, first, hm?" she said soft enough for only me to hear.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and my hands were shaking. I stared at the back of the man who shot my Daddy.

"Hanna," Jessamine repeated, still at a quiet volume, but this time more insistent, "Come on. Sit. Let him drink, and we can talk."

When I didn't react, Jessamine put her hand over the hilt of the peacemaker and put herself between me and the Sheriff. That finally got my attention.

"I don't know what he did, but I can guess," Jessamine said, trying to look into my eyes. "And I know now what you mean to do, but you can't do it, do you understand? He's got armed men outside, and more in town hall. If you try something stupid, it'll only get all of us in here killed, including me. I don't really want to die, and I don't think you do, either."

"He killed him," I whispered. "He killed my Daddy."

Jessamine pulled me into a hug, careful to make sure I couldn't get to my gun. "I'm so sorry, Hanna. I am, you gotta believe me. But you can't kill him. Not here. It'd be suicide."

I felt tears coming down my face again. "I have to kill him," I said, voice so soft even I could barely hear it.

"I know, baby. And I can help you do that, okay? Just not here. Not now. Look at me."

I looked at her.

"Let's go to my room, okay? You can cool down and we can talk about this, alright?"

I looked at the Sheriff again. He was talking loudly with another man at the bar, and the bartender was pouring him more drinks. With his back to me, it would be so easy to shoot him. One shot, and it could all be over. Except... I looked back to Jessamine. It wouldn't be over. Not really. Jessamine was right. The man the Sheriff was talking to had a gun too, as did the men playing cards, and the bartender had a large shotgun hanging above the bar. Sure, I could kill the Sheriff, but it would be a bloodbath inside the tavern afterwards.

"Okay," I whispered.

Jessamine nodded and whisked me away. She led me up the stairs and through a locked door. Her room had a plushly made up bed in the middle of it and she sat me down on it.

"You're probably too young for this, but you've had a rough couple of days, it seems, so I think you need it," she said, and she pushed a glass into my hands. It had a dark, brown liquid in it and I drank it without thinking. It burned my throat on the way down and I coughed against the harsh sensation, but Jessamine just rubbed my back and sat beside me.When I could breathe again without coughing or sobbing, I laid back on the bed. Jessamine took my shoes off the way my mother used to do for me when I was little, and I curled up on the bed. I must have slept, because when I opened my eyes again the light coming in the windows was late afternoon sun.

Jessamine was sitting at a desk along the wall, quill in hand, writing on a postcard.

"My mother taught me to write," I said, "She said it was important for ladies to know their penmanship. I always secretly thought it was a waste of time."

Jessamine smiled at me. "I think that's the most you've said to me all day. I take it you're feeling a little better?"

"My head hurts," I admitted, "But I'm alright."

Jessamine finished her postcard and returned the quill to its stand. "I've got some willow bark, for your head, if you'd like it."

"I'll be fine, but thank you. I suppose I owe you an explanation."

Jessamine shook her head. "You don't owe anyone anything. You've been through a lot, I could see it in your eyes when I first saw you. I meant what I said before. If you're serious about killing Sheriff Kent. I can help you."

"Why would you help me?" I asked.

"Because he's a bad person. And he deserves what's coming to him. But if you're set on doing the deed yourself, I'd rather not see you get strung up for it."

My hand went to my throat subconsciously. Daddy had told me all about hangings. It sounded like the worst way in the world to die.

"I'm writing to my cousin, the one I told you about," Jessamine said, holding up the postcard. "To see if she knows of any work where she's at. If she does, you can ride up her way after you do what needs to be done here."

"Why are you being so nice to me? You don't even know me."

Jessamine shrugged. "Maybe you remind me of myself when I was your age, and maybe I sympathize with your plight. Either way, I have reason to want the Sheriff dead almost as much as you do, and seeing you willing to risk your own neck to take him out made me feel a little ashamed that it never crossed my mind to do anything about it.

"Why do you want him dead?"

"He killed my friend. Her name was Charlotte. She lived here, and worked here like I do. He said it was an accident, but I know better. He's a bad, mean man, especially when he's drunk. I told her not to let him into her room that night, but she said she needed the money. She sent every dime she made to her ailing mother, to support her after her husband walked out. And now she's dead, and he's still Sheriff."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Me too," Jessamine replied, "But it's time we stop feeling sorry and start doing something about it. You inspired me, and now I'm going to help you. But we're going to be smart about it, alright? No shooting him in the tavern surrounded by witnesses. Promise?"

I nodded. "Promise."

---

Jessamine let me rest in her room that afternoon while she left, "To go do a little shoppin," she'd said.

I left the peacemaker on my hip. The belt wasn't comfortable, and it resting there meant I couldn't roll onto that side like I wanted to, but having it's cool weight there where I could grab it at a moment's notice made me feel safer. I could go anywhere or do anything, just so long as I could kill the Sheriff first.

I held the rabbit's foot in my hand as I tried to sleep a little more, but sleep wouldn't come. Jessamine had promised to give Buttercup some hay and water, so I didn't need to worry about her. There was little else for me to do. Eventually I gave up on sleep, and began to look around Jessamine's room. It was small, but with neat and clean furniture. She had a writing desk, a bed, a dresser with a small mirror, and a bowl and pitcher for water, and a wheeled cart that held glasses and three glass bottles with labels that identified them as rum, gin, and brandy. In the closet were hung two more brightly colored dresses, much like the yellow one she had been wearing earlier.

Jessamine returned as I was admiring the fabric of her dresses. "They're pretty, aren't they?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, pulling my hand away from them. I was suddenly aware of how dirty I was.

As if reading my mind, Jessamine shook her head, "You go on and touch them if you want, sugar. You can wash up your hands in the bowl there if you're worried about the dust, but I'm not worried about it."

I poured a little water from the pitcher into the bowl on her dresser and scrubbed my hands as best I could.She held up a small bottle the size and shape of the medicines my father had given my mother and I when we got the fever. "Do you know what this is?" she asked me.

I shook my head. "Medicine?"

"That's right. In small doses, it's effective for treating sleeping sickness or pox, but too much will kill you quicker than any disease will."

"Are you going to give that to the Sheriff?"

Jessamine nodded. "I am. You've put a bug in my bonnet and I know you won't rest again until this is over with, so now I won't either. I'll give it to him tonight."

"And you're sure that'll kill him?" I asked.

Jessamine pulled out another bottle from her bag, this one a tall one like the liquor bottles in her cart and set both on the dresser. "It should work. My mother dabbled in the healing arts. She said too much of this one was deadly, so she always had to be extra careful in administering it. I'm going to get him to drink the whole lot."

She opened the tall bottle, which I could see now had "whisky" on the label. She poured out about half the bottle into the bowl where I'd washed my hands, and then opened the small medicine bottle and poured its contents into the whisky bottle. It filled the tall bottle back to about two thirds full, and she gave the bottle a shake to mix the two liquids.

"Tonight, I'll invite him to my room, get him drunk on this, and hopefully by the time he's had his way with me, the poison will work its magic and we'll both be free from him."

"What should I do?" I asked.

"You don't worry about a thing," Jessamine replied. "I'll set you up in the kitchen for the evening. You'll like Marylyn, she's the head cook. I'll make sure she gets you a hot meal once the dinner rush is over."

"But what about you? I don't like the idea of him…" I couldn't bring myself to say the words. Just the thought put a cold pit of dread in my belly.

"It's my job, sugar. If it's not me, it'll just be some other gal. But tonight, I'll make sure it's me, and then it'll be no other girls, ever again for him. Sound like a plan?"

I didn't like it. Shooting him had seemed like the right thing to do. After all, he shot my Daddy. But poisoning, even if it worked as hoped, and achieved the same goal, just didn't seem like as sure a thing. And now I had unwittingly roped Jessamine into the whole thing, when she was just fine before minding her own business. "I don't know," I said, fingering the gun at my side.

"Listen," Jessamine said gently, "I know you want to do this your way, but your way was going to get a bunch of people killed. This way, only he has to die, and if we do it quietly, no one suspects a thing. We can go about our lives knowing one less sonovabitch is walking around killing good people. Are you with me on this?"I looked Jessamine in the eye and took my hand away from the gun. "I'm with you."

"Good. Now, come on, let's introduce you to Marylyn." She took me by the hand and led me away from the room, and what would later happen there.

---

The kitchen was a little too warm and busy to be comfortable, but I stuck by Marylyn's side, doing small tasks for her whenever she asked, and the time went quickly. After what only felt like an hour, but what must have been two or three, she put a bowl of soup in my hands and directed me to a quiet corner where I could eat in peace.

As I sat down to sip the soup I realized those hours had been the first since the day before during which I hadn't thought about what happened to my Daddy, and about what I was here to do. Working in the kitchen had been nice. It reminded me of helping my mother in the kitchen of our little house, preparing whatever we could grow or hunt into a hot meal.

The soup tasted of turnips and onion. It was nice, but I was too distracted by what was going to happen to feel all that hungry. I set the bowl aside and decided to creep back to the hallway of Jessamine's room to see if she had succeeded in getting the sheriff in there. If everything was going according to plan, he should be drinking the poisoned whisky any moment now.

I took the back stairs, the ones Jessamine had led me down hours before, and did my best to walk quietly. I needn't have bothered being quiet, I quickly realized. There was plenty of loud noises coming from several of the rooms there. Some noises were boisterous voices talking gayly, others were almost animal in nature. The sounds of pleasure and of pleasurable company. I walked up to Jessamine's door, and my heart was pounding so loudly I almost didn't hear them inside, but when I pressed my ear to the door, I could hear him.

The sheriff asked Jessamine for another drink. Jessamine teased him, saying he'd had most of the bottle already, but then I could hear the sound of them clinking glasses together. It sounded normal. It sounded like a run of the mill pleasant evening with two people just sharing a few drinks and each other's company. But I knew what was in his drink, and so did Jessamine. All we had to do now was wait.

"Don't you want to go again?" I heard Jessamine ask him.

"Aren't you eager? I like a girl that's eager. Got a headache though, not sure this whisky is sitting well with me," he replied.

I heard someone set a glass down and then someone opened Jessamine's window. "There we go," Jessamine said, "All you need is a little air."

"That is nice, I…" I heard the sheriff swing his feet to the floor and groan. "I might need to splash my face a little," he mumbled. I could hear the sound of liquid being poured, and then another groan. I pulled back from the door momentarily as the next groan turned into sounds of someone being violently sick.

"Are you alright?" Jessamine asked.

"Must have had too much to drink I guess, I…" There was another long pause, and then more sounds of him vomiting. "Get the doctor, girl, now!" His tone changed completely. Before there were only pleasantries in his voice, but now there were notes of pain and urgency.

Jessamine burst through the door and almost toppled me over. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a harsh whisper upon realizing who she'd run into. "Come on, now!" She pulled me down the hallway. "He's throwing up blood. I don't know how long it will take now. I'm going to get the doctor. He shouldn't be able to do anything for him now, but I have to anyway, for looks."

"But--" I protested. If he was going to die in that room, I wanted to be sure of it.

"No buts, remember? This is the only way." Jessamine led us both down the stairs and out into the night.

We walked down main street and onto the next side street. The Apothecary's sign was just barely readable in the darkness of dusk. We went inside.

"Doctor!" Jessamine shouted.

"What?" a male voice answered.

"It's the sheriff. He's throwing up red. It's bad."

"I'll get my bag," he said, and he came into view a moment later. He was about my father's age, and nearly as pale as the dusty grey coat he wore.

"Who's this?" He asked, indicating me, as we led him back to the tavern.

"My cousin," Jessamine replied. She gave me a look that I took to mean "keep quiet."

"You're a little young for her line of work," the doctor said, giving me a look up and down, "But I guess you started young too, eh Jessie?"

Jessamine didn't reply to that, so neither did I. The more men I met, the more I decided I didn't like them.

We returned to the tavern and headed up the stairs to Jessamine's room. I could hear the sheriff groaning before we got inside. A man leaning against the hallway wall raised a glass in a toast as we entered the room. "Good luck with that one, Doc, he doesn't sound so good!" the man said with a laugh like a donkey.

Inside, the sheriff was curled in a ball on the floor, making sounds of misery. He was clutching his stomach and was covered in his own sick. For a moment, I almost pitied him. Then I remembered what he had done, and the feeling passed.

"When did this start?" the doctor asked.

The sheriff tried to answer, but he coughed instead and more red bile came out of his mouth.

"He was fine until just a little bit ago," Jessamine said. "We were just having a few drinks and then he started getting sick all over the place.""What'd he drink?"

"Just whisky." Jessamine pointed to the bottle where it was on the cart.

"Whisky doesn't cause this," the doctor said. He pulled a small metal cone out of his bag and held it to various parts of the sheriff's body, listening with one ear pressed to the small end of the cone. "He must have got into something. I'm going to try some different things, but I'll need the room. Shut the door on your way out, please."

Jessamine looked at me, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. We needed to be here. To see it through to the end. "Couldn't we stay and help you out, Doc?" she asked.

"This is no place for a woman. Out!" The doctor physically shooed us with his hands, and we left the room, shutting the door behind us. I could still hear the sheriff moaning on the other side.

"We'll come back in a bit, come on," Jessamine said to me. She led me down the back way to the kitchen.

I saw my bowl of soup was still where I had left it, and we sat in the same spot I had been sitting less than an hour before. It felt like so much had happened in such a short amount of time.

"I thought it would be quicker than that," Jessamine whispered, "And cleaner. But at least it'll be done."

I nodded, but I wasn't sure I held her same certainty that it was done. He was still breathing, after all. "What if the doctor saves him?" I asked.

"I don't think he can. Don't think anyone can. Hope he's saying his final prayers now."

I was saying a few prayers of my own, the rabbit's foot in my hand.

"I'm going to check around the after supper crowd, see what people are saying. They probably heard whispers by now that the sheriff is sick. You stay here, I'll be back," Jessamine squeezed my hand, and then she left.

I sat alone, staring at the bowl of soup I had abandoned earlier, feeling more and more sure that the sheriff was going to survive this. I knew we wouldn't get a second chance at this. If he got sick the same way a second time after seeing Jessamine it would be too suspicious, and who could say if we could get the dosage correct to kill him on another try?

I crept up the back stairs for the second time that day. Things were mostly quiet upstairs this time. Most of the merrymakers had apparently left, probably because the sound of the sheriff's moans dampened the mood. I opened the door to Jessamine's room a crack and peeked in.

The sheriff was laying on Jessamine's bed now, and the doctor was looking into his eyes one at a time by lifting the lids with his thumb. He looked up when I opened the door and he ushered me inside.

"You, girl, come here," he said. I did as I was told. "Make yourself useful. Hold this to his forehead. He needs to rest. I'm going to get some sleep, but if his condition worsens you must come get me right away, you understand?" He handed me a damp and cool cloth.

I took the cloth and nodded. The doctor gathered his bag and left, shutting the door on the two of us, alone.

I stared at the sheriff. He was pale and sweating, but he was still very much alive. He occasionally gave a groan of pain, but did not open his eyes. I went to drop the cloth in the basin when he spoke.

"Jessie? That you?" he asked. His eyes fluttered but stayed mostly shut. "My head hurts something awful. Did the doc leave you a cloth?"

I slowly walked to the bed and put the cloth on his forehead.

"That's nice, yeah," he muttered. "Hey, come 'ere," he continued, and reached out blindly, catching me by the arm. "You owe me some comfort after that scare."

He pulled me closer but I twisted out of his grip.

"Hey, what?" he began, and then his eyes finally opened and locked onto mine. "Who?" he began to ask, but then I drew my gun and pointed it at him, far enough away that he couldn't reach me or it.

"Stay back," I said, my voice shaking.

"What are you doing, girl?" Anger rose to his voice.

"You shot my Daddy!" I whispered.

"I what? I, oh. Oh, you're Jack's girl?" He laughed. It was more like a cough, but I could still hear the disdain in it.

"You shot him," I whispered again. "He didn't do anything to you. He didn't do anything to anybody!" I was finding my voice again.

"I had a warrant, girl. Dead or alive! He was a runaway, that's a crime! Sometimes I need to bring in criminals, that's my job!"

I pulled back the hammer on the peacemaker and swallowed even though my mouth was completely dry.

"Now, listen, we can talk about this," he began.

There was a deafening boom as the gun lept in my hand. I hadn't really meant to pull the trigger. Not until after I'd done it. The sheriff was dead. I could see that from where I stood. And I had been the one to shoot him.

I heard someone coming up the stairs in a hurry, and it hit me just what I had just done. I shot the sheriff. If that wasn't a hangable offence, I didn't know what was.

Jessamine opened the door and came inside, shutting it behind her. "Run, Hanna. They're coming," she said in a no-nonsense voice, "Out the window, now."

She grabbed a spare blanket from the end of the bed, tying one end to the bedpost and tossing the other end out the open window. "Wait, what about you?" I asked. I couldn't just leave her with the body of the recently shot sheriff.

"I'll say the culprit was already gone when I got here. Everyone already saw me downstairs, they'll know I didn't do it. Now go!"

I grabbed her hand and squeezed, as she had done for me to calm me down before. "Thank you, Jessamine."

"And you, Hanna. May luck guide your way."

I heard other voices in the hall outside, and Jessamine went out to greet them as I grabbed the makeshift blanket rope, and swung out into the night air.

It was dark outside, and there was enough noise going on inside the tavern now to mask my landing on the dirt outside. I had to drop the last few feet, but riding horses as a child had taught me how to roll into a fall so I didn't get hurt.

I made a beeline to where I had hitched Buttercup. Had it been just this morning last I saw her? It seemed like so much longer. I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw someone standing next to her, but when I got closer I felt a little relief to see it was just the boy, Jack. He was packing bags on his horse next to Buttercup, but he kept looking over at the tavern.

"Hey there, it's Hanna, isn't it?" he asked when he saw me.

"Hey, Jack. Gotta run, but it was nice meeting you," I said in a hushed voice.

"Hey, did you hear? They're saying someone shot the sheriff! They're saying he was sleeping when someone popped him with a bullet between the eyes. Can you believe that?"

I untied Buttercup as quickly as I could, but my hands were shaking, and the straps kept slipping from my fingers.

"Here, let me help you with that," Jack said, noticing my state for the first time. "Say, weren't you looking to talk to the sheriff?"

"I have to go, Jack," I said, pleading with my voice and eyes, hoping he would just let me go.

Something in my voice must have told Jack more than my words had time to. "Oh. Oh golly. Yeah, uh, here." He shoved a bag in my arms. It was heavy and I almost dropped it.

"That's packed for a long trip, but don't take too long getting where you're going. They're probably going to send riders at first light, once they don't find who they're looking for in town."

"Thanks, Jack."

Jack handed me the reins as I mounted Buttercup. "And Hanna?"

"Yeah?"

"I won't tell 'em about you. Good luck."

He tapped his temple in goodbye, and I touched the brim of my Daddy's hat, and galloped into the night.

---

I rode north. The bag that Jack had given me had food and water, enough for a week at least if rationed properly. I rode all night. It was dangerous to travel by no more light than the moon could provide, but Buttercup seemed to sense the importance of our flight, and she didn't miss a single step. Finally as dawn began to show on the horizon, Buttercup needed to rest, and so did I.

As soon as my head hit my makeshift pillow, I fell deep into sleep. When I felt that someone was watching me, I recognised the now familiar silhouette of an antlered rabbit approaching me.

"Did you do what you needed to?" he asked me in his same calm and clear voice.

"I did," I replied.

"Was it worth it?"

I thought about it. I was now fleeing for my life, having committed a hangable offence. But the man who killed my Daddy was dead. I didn't regret that. "Yes."

The rabbit nodded. "Good. Your task is complete. You can live your life, now."

"What does that mean? Live my life?" I asked him.

He spread his paws, a very human gesture. "It means whatever you want it to mean."

I pulled the rabbit's foot out on its leather cord. "Would you like this back, then?"

"I found another," he said, and raised his paw. I noticed now, it was a different shade of fur than the rest of him, but when he wiggled the toes, I could see it was good as new. "And you may need some of that luck, yet."

"Will you ever tell me who you are?" I asked.

"You already know, girly," he said, and winked with my father's eyes.

"I miss you, Daddy," I whispered.

He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm here. And so is your mother. We'll always be here when you need us."

"I love you." My voice was gone with emotion, but he understood just the same."I love you too, girly."

When I awoke that morning, my face had tears drying on my cheeks, but I knew I would be alright now. My future was ahead, and I had my parents with me. They would bury the sheriff back in town, and some other man would be put in his place. A better man, I hoped. A man like my father. But I would never return to that town. I didn't need to. Jessamine and little Jack would keep my secret, and I could start a new life in a better place. I clutched the jackalope's foot around my neck, and felt hope.

fin

credits: overlay (x) by Grey, sketch for the wanted poster (x) by canine, sketch (x) by CORE, profile/story by Faber, other graphics/patterns from toptal and freepik.

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