Victor's hair swept in the wind, nuzzling against his face. The crackling of the campfire was a constant sound to be heard all throughout that night. They hadn’t talked, both exhausted from the constant riding. The arches of Victor’s feet ached from a long days riding and having his feet tight against the stirrup.

Everett found the warmth of the fire against his face, a soothing feeling. Especially as the cold surrounded them in light breezes and slowly lowering temperatures. He watched as it illuminated the hardened edges of Victor's face, dancing with a passion that reflected in his dark eyes. The dark of the night enraptured them with the cold of the ground.

Victor hadn't said much since making camp, his mind focused on each wisp of the fire. He watched them run away into the darkened night sky, dissipating right before him. He turned and laid against his henskin. His arms formed a pillow behind his head as his eyes fluttered to a close.

Everett watched the slight rise and fall of his chest. It was soothing, like watching a sunrise curling over the horizon or watching waves roll by.

Soon morning rolled in alongside the stiff backs of Everett and Wiley.  Still trying to shake off the cobwebs of sleep, Victor rubbed his bloodshot eyes. His dark hair was frizzy from tumbling around as he slept.

The men didn’t stay at camp long, not even long enough to eat anything. Everett spoke as they tied the last of their gear to the edges of the horses. “Cattle Brooks is west of ‘ere. Let’s move.”

The ride had become monotonous and roiling. Under the beating heat of the sun every spoke of energy Sykes thought he had regained with a quiet night’s sleep seemed to have disappeared as soon as the sun had awoken. Dehydration sparked a dry mist in his mouth but he had to conserve the water, no matter his personal feelings.

“Sykes? We got company.” Victor’s hand drifted to his gun while Sykes’ drifted to his badge. Coming in from the fleeting horizon, three men were mounted on their steeds.

“Ranger Everett Sykes! Announce yourselves men!” For a split second he was hopelessly hoping that this wouldn’t be another round of bandits.

The men rode in on a range of brown horses, each clad with supplies. “Rangers Norris, Owens and Ortega.” Norris spoke, obviously scraggly and unkempt from days on the road. Each brandished their shiny badges before closing them back over their jackets.

The men shot first, drawing their pistols and making Everett and Victor ride fast. “Wonderful,” Victor drawled, “I love a good shootout.”

“Ya boy’s got a bounty on his head, Ranger! We’re just collecting!” One man yelled back as he took a second and reloaded his pistol. It clicked back into place as he finished.

The scenery flashed by the faster and more erratically they rode. “Come on! We'll share the bounty!” Another’s raspy voice broke out as he shot towards the two. However much the bounty was worth, bringing the Roscoe gang to its need was worth so much more.

Victor shot him in the knee, tumbling him over the side of the horse and taking the horse down with him. The large white horse collapsed but resurfaced after his owner climbed from the saddle and stayed screaming on the ground.

Victor’s actions reminded Everett of a wolf, sly as he moved but with a harshness in his results. Despite his conflicting personal feelings of spending time with a violent criminal, Everett couldn’t deny the results.

Sykes shot a double tap into one of the men riding heavy behind him, with a permanent scowl on his face the man, Ortega, fell behind. Sykes turned to ride on further but instead watched as Owens shot Victor's horse. They crumbled to the ground and skidded to a stop.

“Wiley!” Everett pulled his horse into a sharp turn and headed directly for the fallen Victor. Victor shook it off quickly and grabbed his stuff off the dead horse just as Everett arrived.

“Let’s go!” Sykes shot out a hand for him to hop on the horse so they could catch up with Owens.

For only a split second Victor hesitated which pulled the words from Everett’s mouth before he thought about them, “Do you trust me?” Covered in beige sand Victor nodded. “Then let’s go.”

Grabbing Sykes’ hand and pulled in close. Leaning against each other as bullets rained down. One arm wrapped itself around Everett’s stomach, he could almost feel Victor’s finger pads through his loose cotton shirt. Everett pulled his horse into a quick sprint to catch up with the ever-fleeting Owens.

They reached Owens and Victor moved quick and deadly as Everett steered Ranger. Throwing a dagger into the man’s throat, the last bounty-motivated man fell behind.

“Ain’t no lawman gonna pinch me.” He said, hopping off of Ranger. Taking the horse of the deadman and his knife, Victor climbed on. Leaving an uncomfortably aware absent feeling against Everett’s back.

Shaking his head, Everett added with a smile, “You just bring chaos wherever you go.” He pulled forward on his horse, exhaustion tying down his limbs. His head leaned against Ranger’s soft tan mane.

Wiley mirrored his movements by bending forward onto the black horse. “Those were your men, not mine.” Despite their shared weariness from the blazing heat, dehydration and draining adrenaline both knew they couldn’t stop. Cattlebrooks and Wilbur Cross were nearing.

Victor silently hoped as they rode that the ache would lessen in his chest by just a sliver once Cross was dead.