The Hellbells plains — a vast flatland covered in dry grass the color of dirty gold and sinister twisted trees that slowly took on shades of green as they approached the great mountains near the Guinevere River. It wasn't much to look at, but this place had history behind its name.
Bonnie and Evelyn continued along the edge of the plain, heading toward the mountains near the railroad tracks. By this point a full day had passed, which meant the road had shortened considerably — all that was left now was finding the gang.
"I hope they're nearby," said Evelyn. "They could have waited for me, but they wouldn't waste time looking."
"That's… kind of a bad thing, isn't it?" said Bonnie.
Thieving Cat shook her head.
"No. We all just move at a different pace. They prefer to be quick and efficient, and I… well, I like taking my time. Anyway — let's see if we can find them somewhere around here. If not, we keep going to the nearest town."
'That sounds like another two days of riding. I don't have a problem with it — but I want to move as fast as possible. That woman, Victoria, is a real opportunity for me. If I have to sacrifice two more days of travel for that, so be it.'
A perfectly workable option, no question. And it didn't seem like anyone was following her either, which meant she could afford to relax a little before stepping back into dangerous territory.
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The town went by the name of Drybone — the same place where Bonnie and Evelyn had been nearly three days ago, and where Wild Dog had met his end. There, between the buildings, a young man rode on horseback scanning his surroundings as though he were searching for something. He held his hat down against the wind, which also happened to hide a little of his freckled face.
His eyes were dark and his hair was brown. He wore a friendly smile, and in fact he was the very same journalist who had broken the story about the murder of the El Camino railroad owner at the hands of the now well-known Bonnie — whose outlaw nickname was still a work in progress.
Sebastian. That was his name.
He dismounted and tied his horse near a water trough, then looked over the locals. Everyone looked worn down, the way people do when working in the middle of the desert is simply too hard — because it was.
He moved through the crowd looking for the right people, and it didn't take long before he found the saloon. He pushed both doors open with his hands and stepped inside. People were playing cards at some tables, others were drinking whiskey and talking, and there were women in conversation with each other or with the men around them.
Sebastian took in the whole room in a single sweep. His neat little suit stood out sharply against the cowboys' attire — but thanks to his gray poncho, he didn't draw too much attention.
Since there were no open tables, and someone had just thrown in their hand at one of them with a loud grunt, Sebastian took the empty seat and picked up the cards the man had left behind. He looked at the hand and sighed.
"My, my… What a terrible hand. No wonder he left."
Seated across from him were three rough, grimy-looking men in dark clothing with unkempt beards. One of them looked at him darkly and said:
"You saw the cards. You play them."
Sebastian smiled pleasantly.
"That's exactly what I intend to do — don't worry. I'll figure something out."
Another one of the men laid a card on the table. They all looked at each other with narrowed eyes, as though any moment someone would expose someone else's cheating. The silence and tension of the game only made that feeling worse.
It was Sebastian's turn. He laid one card and drew another. He'd pulled something good — but he had to keep a poker face so no one caught on to his move.
"I heard there was a red-haired girl with a golden revolver passing through here recently," he finally said.
Sebastian didn't actually know for certain that Bonnie Jones had come here — but it was the closest place outside the Warlock County Sheriff's jurisdiction where she realistically could have gone. After all, the poor girl needed to get away from the law as fast as possible.
The cowboys — or possible outlaws — glanced at each other. The oldest of them laid his card and answered:
"Someone like that came through a few days ago. Caused quite the stir."
"Is that right? That sounds interesting. Could you tell me more?" said Sebastian, sliding two Crowns across the table.
The old man looked at the coins, pocketed them, and continued.
"Nobody knew where she came from — but judging by how she was dressed, she clearly had money behind her. Sounds like she made some kind of deal with the bartender to get some supplies, then left."
"A deal, huh… Could it have been survival supplies? Ammunition? Information?" Sebastian suggested.
The old man stayed skeptical.
"Don't know and don't much care. What made real noise was that the next day the girl got caught up in a shootout. One man died. They called him Wild Dog."
"Wild Dog… Doesn't ring a bell."
The old man laughed. Once the others had laid their cards, it was his turn.
"Because the bastard belonged to a gang of failures called the Northern Dogs. They weren't well known, and nobody was interested in knowing them."
"I see. So — was it the girl who killed Wild Dog?"
"No. She fired, but didn't hit anything. The one who killed Wild Dog was that woman who hadn't shown her face in a good while. Thieving Cat from the Sisters of the Horizon."
"Hmm… The Sisters of the Horizon, you say? I think I've heard something about them. Though their exploits aren't quite as outlandish as those of the infamous Red Johnny or the bloodthirsty Dirty Diana, are they?"
"I haven't got the faintest clue, kid. All I know is that after it was all over, people saw the two of them ride out of town together. They headed north — and after that, nobody heard anything more. Most likely they went to meet up with the rest of the gang."
"I see…"
Sebastian laid his full hand on the table — and won. The cowboys stared at him, speechless, unable to believe it.
Sebastian tipped his hat and gave a nod.
"That's everything I needed to know. Good game, gentlemen. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
The old man cut him off:
"Hold on, kid. Who the hell are you?"
"Oh — right. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sebastian Moon, journalist for the Stray Bullet — the freshest and most reliable news in all the West. Make sure you pick up a copy every morning."
With that, as though completely indifferent to whatever reaction followed, he walked out of the saloon scribbling all his new information into an old notebook covered in messy handwriting.
His young heart burned with excitement over what he'd found. In a short time, Bonnie Jones had begun to act like a genuine outlaw.
Sebastian wondered if this was something Bonnie actually wanted — because this girl apparently had no hesitation about firing at a man. Well, she had killed one of the Sheriff's men and Caleb Graves. Of course a girl like that would shoot at anyone who got in her way.
"I can't wait to find out more. This story is going to make me a name."
Holding onto that excitement, he kept walking through the town, looking around carefully. He happened to stumble right onto the site of the shootout without even having to look for it. To his side, two buildings showed damage from explosions.
He crouched down and touched the wood analytically. He took his time examining the evidence, like a private detective reconstructing a scene.
"Two explosions in the alleyways…"
Charred and shattered wood.
"Multiple gunshots…"
Holes punched into the walls.
"Dried blood…"
He concentrated hard. The scene was starting to piece itself together in his mind — but he was still missing many details, like the woman known as Thieving Cat, or the exact circumstances around the shootout. Things like those were what gave a story its real shape.
It was then that he noticed an old woman in one of the nearby houses watching him with suspicion. Her sunken eyes and skeletal face radiated a deep, personal hatred directed right at him.
He stared right back at her in a childish attempt at intimidation — but then something clicked. His young reporter's heart was shouting at him that there was more to this story, and that suspicious old woman knew things.
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Finally, Bonnie could see the great Guinevere River in the distance. Green trees covered the area, and far to the north, snow capped the distant gray mountains in white and clean.
"The tracks should be close by," said Evelyn, stopping her horse on a small rise of rock. "Now it's just a matter of time before we find them. Since we're near the Hellbells plains, they most likely followed the river downstream."
Thieving Cat smiled, staring into the distance with her thoughts somewhere else. Bonnie noticed and thought:
'She looks happy. She's about to see her friends again after almost dying — I can understand that, in a way. I would've felt the same if I'd escaped from the Devil's Cult back in my world and managed to get back to Joshua and Rosie.'
Though she hadn't really thought about the cult from her world until now. Back there, while humanity certainly had its share of dark chapters, she had never believed anything beyond that truly existed — demons, other worlds, supernatural forces. She had been wrong.
On top of everything, this world felt like someone's nightmare — a distorted version of a past era from Samuel's world.
"If we have to go downstream, then let's pick up the pace. Capella needs to rest. I don't like making her run for too long."
"Horses were born to run, Bonnie. If you treat your horse like she's fragile, she'll get fragile over time. Believe that Capella is strong, and she will be. Besides — it hasn't even been that long. Storm still has enough energy to run a full day straight without stopping."
"You're exaggerating."
"We'll see."
They pressed on along the terrain downstream, between the plain and the edge of the forest. Bonnie knew the river was on the other side of those trees — they had spotted it not long ago — but something about this particular stretch of land gave her a bad feeling.
Even so, she kept riding ahead, acting as the guide.
Hours later, she pulled up near a small rise of earth and grass.
"Let's wait here, Bonnie. I'll build a fire. I'll send up a smoke signal — that way they'll be able to spot where we are and find us faster."
"And if we attract the wrong people?"
"Then we fill their backsides with lead."
Frowning, Bonnie dismounted and drew her revolver. She loaded the rounds from her belt into the cylinder, filling all six chambers.
'I don't love the way she thinks about things — but it's probably exactly that thinking that's kept her alive. Hopefully if I start thinking the same way, I'll manage to stay alive too.'
A little while later the campfire was ready. Evelyn tossed some dry grass into the flames to generate smoke, then used her good hand to pass a cloth through it, cutting the smoke into a signal.
"If you believe in any god, now would be a good time to say a little prayer, Bonnie. See if we can tip our luck toward something good."
'I don't think prayer is going to help us here. And there are too many gods to pick just one to pray to.'
Ignoring the comment, Bonnie focused on giving Capella a couple of carrots.
"You've earned it. Good girl," she said, stroking the mare's neck.
Storm watched the carrots again with that same longing look. Bonnie felt sorry for him and tossed one his way.
The minutes passed like that — until on the horizon, two horses appeared with their riders. Evelyn got up from the ground, recognizing those horses anywhere they might ride.
"Well, look at that. They didn't take long at all."
"Is it them?"
"Of course it is, sweetheart. My sisters from other mothers — here they come. Did you pray to any god to make this happen?"
"I didn't pray to anyone."
"Then how about that luck of ours."
After a long week, Thieving Cat was finally reunited with her gang — her friends and sisters in the desert. The Sisters of the Horizon were together once more.