A gloved hand struck like lightning into his cheek before Grant could do so much as blink, the open palm screaming through the air to leave a stinging, harsh, red mark against his skin.

The outlaw twisted like a snake in the lawman’s grip and ripped free of his hold before Grant’s cheek had even stopped bruning. A thick, layered skirt dragging nearly down to the fugitive's ankles bounced with the motion, a fluffy white petticoat kicking up to reveal shining, heeled boots as he tore off through the crowd.

Grant was after him in an instant, recovering from the initial shock of being slapped in a startled blink and lunging quickly into action.

No more than a streak of silken pink, the fugitive swept through the crowd, weaving around men and woman like a river tearing over rocks and under roots, hindered by nothing and slowing for no one.

“Stop him!” Grant shouted fruitlessly, pushing roughly through the crowd and shoving people aside in his rush. The long, dragging skirt of a blonde girl caught under his feet and nearly sent him careening through the front doors as the outlaw took to the street paces in front of him.

The chill wind of the desert night lashed against Grant’s sore cheeks as he stumbled out of the warm embrace of the lamplight and into the shadows of the street beyond. The man whipped his head around and it didn’t take long for his gaze to fix on the ghost silhouette of a poofy skirt sweeping over the land, layers upon layers of the thing all moving with a mind of their own - It was a wonder the Kid hadn’t tripped himself up in the thing already.

Grant dashed from the porch, leaving the pool of light and letting the darkness of the night swallow him as he tore after the boy. The heavy sound of his own boots slamming into the ground underfoot fought to be heard over the noise of his blood rushing through his ears and the ragged breaths he struggled to draw as he ran after the outlaw. Yet he never slowed, his muscles blazed with energy and the thrill of the chase surged through him to push him on through the darkness. He felt like he could run for hours. He felt young.

For a moment there, Grant even forgot his back was supposed to ache.

Soon, they’d crossed the empty section of desert keeping the brothel separate from the good town and were back within the confines of houses crowding in from every side. The Kid swerved, racing down an alley and Grant was quick to take to his course.

A long, rickety fence blocked the path up ahead but the Kid didn’t slow. Rather the outlaw kept up his breakneck pace and when he met the obstacle he planted his hands atop the top beam and leapt over the thing like a bird in flight. The layers of his elaborate dress twirled over the barrier, heeled boots kicking up as he swung his legs sideways over the wood and planted his feet on the other side.

Grant came barrelling after him a few moments later and mimicked the maneuver. His boots nicked the top of the wood to send him flailing forward, his face plowing straight into the ground underfoot and his legs still windmilling behind him. How the ever loving fuck had anyone done that in a dress??

Grant pulled his mouth out of the dirt and heaved his body off the ground, hands pushing into the dust to drag himself onto his knees before he scrambled back up and spurred himself after the outlaw. The lawman sidestepped into another alley in the fugitive’s wake and skidded into another still before he finally started to gain on the man.

Gleaming black boots shone in bright flashes against the pure white of a full petticoat as light from nearby windows swept by in momentary bursts. Pink, silken fabric swept noisily with each step as the small heels of the shining boots beat into the abused road in long, graceful strides.

Grant pushed himself just that much harder, to be just that much faster. The lawman got so close he could almost smell the cheap scent of flowers and whatever else they’d hung around the brothel to smother the stench of men and whisky still clinging to the boy’s hair. Finally, he snapped out a hand and caught the outlaw by the upper arm, twisting his thick fingers firmly around the slender limb and refusing to let go for God his-fucking-self.

The Kid yanked backwards, the momentum of his mad dash sending him stumbling to the ground and dragging Grant down with him. The outlaw twisted and kicked, a heeled boot catching the lawman in one of the ribs as the fugitive scrambled to loosen the sheriff’s iron grip to no avail.

Grant grunted with effort as he fought to stay on top of the squirming tangle of boy beneath him, snapping his free hand over the outlaw’s other wrist to stop his mad swinging. Despite he Kid’s best efforts, the sheriff was still twice his size and strong enough to snap him in half. It didn’t take long to have both hands pinned above the outlaw’s head and his wiry body pressed to the ground under the man’s unrelenting force.

The Kid’s breath came out in panting spurts that escaped scarlet painted lips in quick, breathless gasps. His pale cheeks flushed a rose pink and dirt smudged across the painted dusting in rude streaks as his eyelashes fluttered closed with the strain of the chase. Slim wrists twisted fruitlessly against Grant’s iron hold where he held them above the boy’s head but when the outlaw let his caramel orbs slip open again lightning still lashed through their warm depths in electric streaks and a small smile played across his parted lips.

Before Grant could so much as wonder what the Kid had up his sleeve, the outlaw arched under his hold and everything after that was lost to the feeling of warm lips pressing against the lawman’s own. Warm and supple, everything about the fugitive's lips felt feather soft and honey sweet even as his cunning teeth gently scraped at the sheriff's lower lip. The outlaw nipped gently at the chapped flesh there, the sharp bite an impossible contrast to the gentle caress of the Kid’s painted lips and Grant forgot how to think.

A heeled boot to the face reminded him rather quickly, however, and Grant very distinctly remembered how to think when the man he’d had pinned just moments ago was suddenly squirming free of his hold and racing away.

Grant hauled himself up off the ground and stumbled to his feet. He forced his legs into motion despite the fact that his mind stayed back in the dirt where it lingered on what had transpired there, refusing to draw away from the scene still playing behind his eyes.

A few paces in front of him the Kid turned another corner; and by the time Grant had skidded to a haphazard halt and turned to follow, the boy had already leapt himself up on a nearby stagecoach.

“Hey, missy, what do you think-” The poor bloke holding the reigns tried but made it no father as he suddenly had an armful of outlaw to worry about.

“Please, sir! That man’s after me!” The Kid sobbed, voice shifted to something honey smooth and pretty - Twisted by the fake sob he’d threaded through the words and the fact that he’d buried his head in the rider’s chest to muffle his words, even Grant couldn’t blame the guy for being fooled.

“Uh-” The driver stuttered out unintelligibly but snapped the reigns down nevertheless, spurring the two horses tied to the thing into motion with a sharp “yah!”

It wasn’t two minutes later, however, when the guy suddenly went flailing forth from the ride, landing on the dirt road in a messy heap with a startled “oof.”

“Ask a girl before you go grabbing!” The Kid snapped angrily, feminine voice dropped and lashing venom in is place as he leaned over the edge of the coach to glare at the man he’d booted. The outlaw pulled the front of his dress up with a disgusted snort, full, true offence written across his features in a blazing fury as he leaned back around and spurred the stolen horses on with a sharp click of his tongue.

“God, I think I’m in love.” The poor stagecoach driver moaned into the dirt as Grant walked over to offer a hand down to the guy.

“Aren’t we all, buddy.” Grant sighed in resigned agreement as he heaved the man back to his feet and dusted his back off.