The Heiress and the Outcast

The tan, young girl raised her hand.

“Armani,” the teacher called.

“The Treasury Reform Act of 1648,” the girl stated confidently, answering the teacher’s question.

“Very good,” the teacher cheered with a smile.

Armani Anderson was always a gifted girl privileged with intelligence, beauty, and grace, not to mention her knack for being the best at everything she tried. She took up horseback riding, archery, axe throwing, sheep herding, singing, the fiddle, and dancing and was the best of her class in each and every one of them—all before the age of 11. The best part about it for her was that she wanted to do those things; they were never forced upon her.

She enjoyed school and was eager to grow up so she could work as a botanist in one of the large cities recently developed near her hometown. Plants fascinated her and she tended to a personal garden around the side of her house every day after school. Armani didn’t have many friends growing up; despite being very pretty and kind, the other school children made fun of her, jealous of her many achievements and smarts. They never included her in their playground games and teased her for having tan skin.

Armani’s family was from the Valley Strip where people were more prone to tanning due to exposure to the intense sun, and even though she had never visited the Strip before, the tanning genes were still in her blood. People from the Valley Strip were also viewed as less sophisticated and improper by those on the Ridge, the area above the valley to the east. Her family had lived on the Ridge since her great, great grandparents moved there as young adults, but lineage was everything to the folks up there.

Armani didn’t mind the lack of socialization, though. She had gotten over it in her early years and had learned to be happy with just her family and her garden. But sometimes, the other school children wouldn’t be satisfied with just excluding her. They often went out of their way to bully her: kick dirt in her face, push her around, call her names, insult her family. Luckily, they dared not go near her home or her garden; not out of fear, but out of pride. They didn’t want to be seen around her outside of school, even if they were antagonizing her.

The garden was Armani’s happy place. The wonderful white vervains, the glorious goldenrods, the beautiful blue asters, and the ravishing red roses. Oh, the roses were her favorite. She loved their smell and their color, and the way they made her parents smile every year when they bloomed. It was such a disappointment when she learned that she could not take them with her to the Valley Strip.

After Armani finished her elementary school years, her parents decided to move back to the Strip where her family came from, and where many still lived. Armani didn’t want to; despite the bullies, she very much liked the Ridge and still had dreams of working in a city there, but she had no choice. The worst part about it was that the flowers she grew on the Ridge would never survive in the heat down below.

Her parents assured her that there were plenty of gorgeous flowers native to the Valley Strip that Armani could grow in her new garden, but she wanted the roses. Sure, roses could be bought in the Strip, but never grown. They were always imported from the Ridge. Whether she liked it or not, Armani moved with her parents to the place many considered uncouth or even dangerous. She held on to her dreams of becoming a botanist through her middle school years, but during her time at secondary school, she found a new love.

The allure of justice caught her attention. Having then spent several years in the Valley Strip, Armani saw just how wild it could be. Her family lived in the eastern section of the Big City, as close as one could get to the Ridge, but they often traveled to see family all over the Strip. Armani was treated better there; none of the kids made fun of her because of her lineage and she was usually praised by others for her intelligence; not just the teachers but the students, as well.

The Valley Strip’s educational foundation was very different from the Ridge’s. The history was the same up to a certain point, but then took a completely different path. The Valley Strip’s history was full of war, treachery, crime, and suffering before the Big City was established. Then, a bit of order was brought to the Strip and people could finally settle in one place without feeling vulnerable to attack by the many Outlaws of the desert. Outlaws still existed, sure, but they weren’t nearly as rampant as in generations prior.

The idea of riding around the Valley Strip stopping bad guys in their wakes was incredibly arousing to the blossoming Armani and when time finally came to focus on a career path, the young woman from up on the Ridge attended the Ranger Academy in the central portion of the Big City. Her smarts and her looks helped her excel in her courses and graduate at the top of her class. During school, she participated in internship programs with established Rangers, including with one of the top Rangers who lived in the western section of the Big City.

The legendary Irving Craig, a Doyen—a rank specially assigned by the government and granted to Rangers who prove themselves to be the best of the best. Armani spent two semesters with Irving, learning what it meant to be at the top of the food chain. Irving rarely bothered with Outlaws that had less than 20 gold on their heads, and if they didn’t wield a Spell?

“Forget it,” Irving always said. “Why do you think there’re so many lesser Rangers? Not to mention standard law enforcement. My job as a Doyen is to go after the big-ticket items. I’m talkin’ shoot-on-sight kind o’ folks. That’s the type o’ Ranger you should strive to be!”

Armani took those words to heart. She respected Irving, but she also liked him. She liked the kind of person he was even outside of his work and wanted to emulate that in her own life as a Ranger. She followed him anywhere he went and observed as he bagged Outlaws left and right like they were collectibles. Armani sometimes helped during her second semester with him, but only with the comparatively weaker foes. At times, she felt very weak compared to Irving and wondered if she would ever live up to his legacy.

Of course, Irving was advantaged by possessing a Spell—something every Doyen was granted upon receiving the designation. Irving’s Spell was rather simple, but when mastered could be used to take down enemies without Irving having to lift a finger. He never explained to Armani exactly how it worked, and the Spells possessed by Doyens were kept off the public record to prevent Outlaws from developing techniques against them, so Armani’s knowledge of Irving’s Spell was limited.

All she knew was that Irving needed line of sight on his target, then he would close his eyes and take a deep breath and slowly exhale. When he opened his eyes, he usually spat out some witty one-liner, and whatever he had done usually worked by then. If not, it only took a few extra seconds to kick in. The Outlaw Irving was focused on would freeze up and drop their weapon, then do whatever Irving told them to do as long as he didn’t lose sight of them.

Upon graduating, Armani already had plenty of experience under her belt and sped ahead of her peers in terms of success in the field. Her excellent performance garnered the attention of government representatives which was why even when those around her lost everything, she still came out on top. Armani didn’t believe it when she was first told that Irving Craig was killed in action. It was true, though, and there was no denying it. His killer was unknown at the time, but many suspected an Outlaw who, at the time, went by many names.

Every time a report was sent about the Outlaw, the physical description was different, but one thing that stayed consistent was the jet-black hat and poncho. At first, law enforcement suspected a gang of people, but other consistencies cropped up that led them to once again believe the reports were about the same person, even if the suspect looked different every time somehow. When more details were discovered about Irving’s death, Armani attended a government convention gathered to update public information regarding Outlaws.

Armani, being a respected Ranger and former trainee under Irving, was granted the right to speak at the hearing, and speak she did about Irving’s killer. She proposed a consistent name for the Outlaw: Midnight, after the time the murder was projected to have occurred. She also vowed to bring Midnight to justice no matter what. At that hearing, Armani received the rank of Doyenne. A fitting replacement to Irving Craig is what representatives called her. Of course, she was then given a Spell which she practiced with and utilized for years to come.

Her mother’s old jewelry seemed like the perfect catalyst for Armani’s new power; her mother didn’t go out anymore anyway she thought when she returned to her home for the first time in several months. The rings, necklaces, and earrings, all fairly plain, worked well with her Spell and gave her an air of confidence that she lacked after Irving’s passing. With her rejuvenated spirits, Armani pressed on to try and be the best Ranger possible and avenge the man that inspired her to do so.

Armani stood in front of the mirror on her wall; the fire made all of her jewelry twinkle in the dim lighting of the room. She held tight the same pendant as before and wished something under her breath. The ring on her right pointer finger was warm.

“I can make the arrest tonight,” Payton said from somewhere not in Armani’s room.

“No, we’ll wait,” Armani responded.

“But now’s the perfect time, m’lady. They think they’ve gone unnoticed and’ll be turnin’ in for the night soon. I can catch ‘em off guard.”

“You did that last time. We will wait. If we make a move now, local law enforcement won’t just stand by again. Besides, I still want to learn more about Dawn’s Spell. Did you send my analysis and proposal for its name to the bounties office?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. They don’t seem to stick around in one place for very long. We’ll catch them between towns one of these days—if you don’t mess up again, that is.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll leave tonight, actually. Get a few towns ahead. We’ll have plenty of time to devise a plan.”

“Yes’m. I’ll make preparations.”

“Thank you, darling.”

Armani held the pendant. She closed her eyes and thought to herself, then gasped and opened her palm to look at the pendant. For a moment, she thought she felt a warmth come from the pendant. She took stuttered breaths and tried to speak, but nothing came out. She didn’t hear anything either. She swallowed as bumps ran along her neck and arms.

“My…beautiful Moon?” she whispered. Nothing. “No…”

***

Sly snapped a finger.

“The Band of Lovers,” he announced. “That’s the group of Rangers that Payton belongs to.”

“She doesn’t call the shots, though?” Curtis asked as he wandered around the public stables and examined the horses for sale.

“No,” Sly answered, also viewing the horses. “There’s a Doyenne on top. Blanking on her name right now, but they call her ‘Lady Love.’”

“What’s a Doyenne?” Mabel asked from across the stable.

“Remember when I explained Mavericks to you earlier?” Sly replied. “They’re like those, but for Rangers. The best of the best. Not to be messed with, if you’re an Outlaw, that is.”

“Great,” Curtis groaned. “So, chances are we’ve caught the attention of a really good Ranger and she probably knows we’re travelin’ together.”

Sly shrugged. “Payton might also just want your bounty for herself. But, yeah, we need to be extra careful moving forward.”

Curtis eyed Mabel who was brushing one of the horses with a brush one of the stable hands gave her. She also helped feed the beast earlier and had grown quite fond of it. They could only afford one horse, though.

“Well, Sly, which one calls to you?” Curtis asked.

Sly thought for a moment, and decided on a chestnut flaxen gelding that stood a bit higher than the rest at the shoulders. It was rather fitting for Sly with his above-six-foot stature.

“What’re you namin’ it?” Mabel asked after saying goodbye to the horse she had befriended.

“Hm,” Sly groaned as he thought with a hand on his chin.

“It looks smart,” Mabel said. “How ‘bout somethin’ like Cornelius, or Bartholomew.”

Curtis twisted his face at Mabel’s suggestions, but Sly kept thinking.

“I’ll call him…Firefly!” Sly announced.

“Oh, pretty,” Mabel commented.

“What happened to a name that strikes fear into our enemies?” Curtis questioned.

“Eh, such a handsome steed won’t be very scary anyway,” Sly said. “Not like yours. He is pretty tall, though; that can be intimidating.”

“Right,” Curtis mumbled. “I’ll go wait outside while you get ‘im registered.” He tossed Sly the rest of the money he had from shopping.

Once the horse was officially Sly’s, the group made their way to an inn that had a stable attached around back. They tied the horses out front at first and moseyed inside. As they approached the receptionist’s desk, Curtis noticed a series of wanted posters on the wall behind the desk which included his own. The man at the desk wore a neat vest and sported bushy eyebrows. He glanced at Curtis and furrowed his brow, possibly recognizing him.

Curtis paused and cleared his throat as he lowered the brim of his hat a bit to cover half of his face. Sly stepped in front of the desk and blocked Curtis from the man’s view. Curtis kept his distance while Mabel stood by Sly’s side.

“Evening, my good sir,” Sly said. “We’ll take a couple of rooms. Make one a single, but we’ll take two beds for the kid and I.”

Mabel looked up at Sly and tugged on his shirt. “I don’t wanna share a room with you,” she stated, then immediately withdrew. “No offense, I mean. But I would like my own room, if I could.”

“Oh,” Sly responded, trying not to sound offended. “Sure thing.” He turned to the man at the desk. “Make that three rooms please, all singles.”

The man nodded and said “Of course. You’re a Ranger, right? I assume with yer neat get up. Don’t you have quarters you can stay at when you’re stationed in town?”

“We’re just passing through,” Sly said. “I think we’ll only stay the night.”

The man nodded. “That’ll be six silver and three dimes, please.” He rang up the payment at the register and fetched three room keys.

“That includes complementary dinner and breakfast, right?” Sly inquired.

The man smiled. “Certainly, sir.”

Sly thanked him and led Mabel toward the stairs up to their rooms. Curtis did his best to remain out of sight of the man, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. The group climbed to the second floor where Sly handed the other two their keys.

“I’ll go get our horses set up in the stables,” Sly said.

“Mabel, why don’t you take the middle room,” Curtis suggested.

“Good idea,” Sly agreed.

“Then you’ll be equidistant from me in case I need help, right?” Mabel said with a hint of sarcasm.

Curtis nodded slightly. “Just in case. Can’t be too careful.”

“I know, I know,” Mabel groaned playfully. She took the key from Sly and unlocked her room. Sly began walking toward the stairs leading down, but after Mabel entered her dwelling, Curtis approached Sly.

“Can you check on ‘er before bed?” Curtis requested in a hushed tone. “I would do it, but if she’s seen with either of us, I’d rather it be you.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Sly replied. “No need to worry. She’ll be safe.”

“I’ll also eat dinner alone in my room tonight,” Curtis added. “I feel like we’re being too conspicuous already. I think the receptionist recognized me, but I’m not certain.”

Sly nodded. “Yeah. I’ll stay alert, too.”

“Good.”

Curtis unlocked his room and went inside. Later, Mabel and Sly went down to the dining hall on the first floor for dinner, then brought food back up for Curtis. After, Mabel changed into more comfortable clothing to sleep in, then Sly joined her in her room to make sure she didn’t need anything before bed. The single rooms were fairly simple. One bed in the far-right corner from the door with a small table next to it; a dresser was situated on the far wall and a larger wardrobe on the left wall. The dresser supported a mirror. A coat rack stood next to the door and two oil lamps were mounted on opposite walls to light the room.

“We’ll be right next door if something happens, okay?” Sly reassured. Mabel nodded as she climbed into the bed. “Just knock on either wall,” Sly chuckled. He walked to one of the lamps lighting the room, one closest to Mabel’s bedside table, but before covering the flame he turned to Mabel who lied on her side facing away from Sly.

“Mabel,” Sly said.

“Yeah?” she responded without turning over.

Sly sighed. “At the bounties office earlier, you seemed off while reading over the list of Mavericks. What was it?”

Mabel remained facing away from Sly and stayed silent for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“I recognized one of the names is all,” she said quietly.

“Other than Midnight or Billy the Kid, you mean? Like, a personal recognition?”

Mabel stayed silent.

“N-never mind,” Sly stuttered. “You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked. Not like I’ve shared too much about my life anyway.”

Sly covered the flame of the lamp near Mabel’s bedside table and began making his way to the door where the other lamp was mounted. Just before he covered the flame of the second lamp, Mabel spoke.

“What d’you know about Lester Langley?” she asked.

Sly turned around and saw that Mabel had sat up in the bed. The dim light from the single lamp gave her glossy eyes an extra sparkle similar to if she were on the verge of tears.

“I know…” Sly started, but hesitated. “He was a politician. From the Ridge. I remember hearing about him most during my years at the Ranger Academy since I’m from the Ridge and all.”

Mabel stared at Sly. Sly couldn’t tell if Mabel was paying attention; her gaze was intense, but also unfocused.

“He was pretty corrupt,” Sly continued. “Of course, people didn’t know that for sure for a while. Turns out he was working with some pretty bad people, Outlaws, to secure his place as a city council member, mayor, and eventually as the supervisor for the whole region. He made his way to the Valley Strip, specifically the region in and around the Big City, and started really manipulating the whole system in his favor.

“Thankfully, it didn’t take long for his crimes to be found out and for him to get charged with a whole load of things like money laundering, election rigging, aiding Outlaws in various ways, some other stuff. He has a really high bounty for it now, but I don’t think anyone knows where he’s hiding at the moment. He’s been missing for years. He’s not an Outlaw in the traditional sense that most people think of, but he’s still a very bad man and he’s done some very bad things.”

“You don’t say,” Mabel mumbled.

Sly looked at Mabel who was then staring at the sheets over her lap. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, using her knees to support her head. Her eyes were still glossy and flickered with the reflection of the flame of the lamp across the room.

“What did Lester Langley do to you?” Sly probed.

“Nothing,” Mabel answered without looking up. “I was the only one he didn’t do anything to.” She sniffled. “When ‘e came to the Valley Strip, I was really young, but I remember hearin’ about how he was tryin’ to enforce policies here that were designed for the Ridge and didn’t take into consideration the differences in population, culture, or wealth down ‘ere in the Strip. A lot of poorer families suffered because of it.

“We didn’t even live in the Big City; we were in Thorntree on the west side. Mabel took a deep breath. “My family didn’t make enough money for the new taxes,” she whimpered. A lump formed in her throat. “We could barely afford food with the inflation. And Lester Langley was very thorough. Often times he would send men to do his bidding and punish those of us too poor to manage in his new economic plan, but sometimes he would come himself to deal with the vermin outside the Big City.”

Sly listened. He watched Mabel as she forced the words from her mouth even though he could tell it hurt her to relive the memories. Mabel swallowed harshly and inhaled.

“He did terrible things to my family,” she exhaled. “He…beat them. He tortured my dad and abused my mom and big sisters.” She sniffled again, this time followed by a steady flow of tears. “They did everything they could to make him stay away from me, begged ‘im to do whatever he wanted with them so long as ‘e didn’t hurt me. And ‘e did. To everyone’s surprise, he didn’t lay a finger on me.

“No, my punishment was that I had to watch. I had to sit there powerless and unable to do anything about the mistreatment of my family and our neighbors. I also wasn’t allowed to go to school anymore ‘til my family paid off our debts. Daddy was very vocal about his hatred for Langley and was always out attendin’ political rallies against ‘im. One day, daddy didn’t come home. The next night, some of Langley’s men came sayin’ that my family was under arrest for tax evasion. I don’t even think they were police.

“Mama wasn’t havin’ any of it. She fought back. One of the guys had a gun. My sisters told me to run away, go anywhere that wasn’t there. Said they’d catch up… They never came,” she sniffled and shrugged.

Sly listened still, but he couldn’t look at the girl anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her pouring eyes.

“I don’t really know what happened after that,” Mabel went on. “I got as far from the Big City as I could; went to Coyote Run. It seemed like a decent place to try and survive. Lots o’ new faces walked through every day; easy pickings for a beggar seekin’ one-time sympathy from passersby. Also helped me learn a lot o’ things I missed out on while I was banned from school.”

Mabel wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“Sorry,” she said. “That was probably more than you asked for. I know this group isn’t keen on sharin’ much, and—.”

“I’m sorry,” Sly whimpered.

Mabel looked up to see the door shut; the Ranger was already out of sight. She watched the flame in the lamp by the door flicker. Sly stood outside with his back against the door. He stared at the ground for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head into his hands.

What am I doing? he thought. Why did I just walk out like that? This isn’t the time to leave her alone. I have to go back in there and make her feel better. Do it, Sly. Turn around and open the door. Do it. Do it! Do it!

Sly’s thoughts were interrupted by the gentle sound of light footsteps on the wooden floor inside Mabel’s room. He opened his eyes and stood tall again. The footsteps got closer and closer to the door. Sly’s heart pounded harder than usual. He forced himself away from the door and turned around, ready to face the girl when she opened it. He waited, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down.

Instead, the light inside the room that peaked out from under the door disappeared and was replaced by shadow. Sly heard the little footsteps grow quieter and farther away before they were gone entirely. He felt a lump forming in his throat and swallowed hard. He closed his eyes again as they began to dampen and rested his forehead against the door.

“Even when I thought I found a way to leave it all behind,” he whispered. “Now I’m traveling with a living reminder.”

***

The next morning, Sly went down and grabbed everyone’s breakfast for them and brought the plates back upstairs. He carefully balanced one of the dishes on his arm and held the other two in his hands, then used his foot to knock on Curtis’s door. It cracked open and the Outlaw, fully clothed, peaked through the sliver of an opening. Sly gestured with the plate of food. Curtis opened the door wider and took the plate from Sly, thanking him.

“I’ll come get you when Mabel and I are ready to move,” the Ranger said.

Curtis nodded and shut the door while Sly made his way to Mabel’s room. He knocked on the door and took a plate in each hand. Mabel answered and looked up at Sly. He tried to give her a light smile, but she could tell something was off.

“Here’s breakfast,” Sly said and handed one of the plates to Mabel. “I’ll get you once it’s time to go.”

Mabel started to shut the door as Sly walked toward his own room, but he turned around and called to the girl. She opened the door again and looked at the Ranger. He took a breath and thought about what to say.

“Um… We’ll be leaving soon, so eat fast, okay?” he croaked.

“Okay,” she quietly responded. “Thank you.”

Not much later, after the group had finished breakfast and prepared to depart, the three made their way down to the stable and retrieved their horses.

“Mabel,” Curtis called. “Could you tighten my pack to the saddle.” He gestured with his bag to his metallic steed which remained wrapped in cloth. Mabel wandered over and took the pack from Curtis to start securing it while the Outlaw walked over to Sly and Firefly. He brushed a hand against Firefly’s neck and spoke in a quieter tone.

“Thanks for checkin’ on ‘er last night, Sly,” he said. “I feel like you’re much better at this whole caring-for-a-kid thing than I am.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Sly replied without looking at the Outlaw.

Curtis’s brow furrowed and he titled his head at the Ranger.

“Everythin’ alright?” he asked.

Sly looked at Curtis then and tried to perk up. “Yeah—yeah!” he exclaimed with a clenched fist. “Sorry, I think my breakfast was a bit funky. Haven’t been feeling my best this morning. But you know I’m always ready and raring to go!”

Sly smiled wide as he always did. Curtis chuckled.

“Alright,” he laughed. “Then let’s go. I’ll be interested in seein’ you ride Firefly for the first time,” he shouted as he made his way back to his own horse. Mabel stood by its side, waiting for assistance in mounting it.

“We still need a name for your horse,” Mabel said with a small grin.

“Yeah, yeah. I need’a think of somethin’ good,” Curtis replied before hoisting Mabel onto the saddle. “You need’a learn to climb up there by yourself.”

Curtis hoisted himself atop his steed and commanded it to walk. Sly followed on Firefly and the group made their way onto the main road. Curtis wore his hat low in an effort to not be recognized by anyone knowledgeable about Outlaws. Sly held out the crude topographical drawing Curtis made a couple of days prior.

“East to Proudkeep, right?” the Ranger confirmed.

“Maybe we should’ve gotten a real map,” Curtis said, slightly ashamed of his work.

“Nah,” Sly retorted. “No need. I know the Mesa Frontier pretty well, so I can work with this.”

“If you say so,” Curtis murmured. Once the party was outside of Onyxlanding and on their way through the desert, Curtis said, “I’m surprised nothing else happened last night. We should assume that Payton’s hot on our trail.”

“Yeah,” Sly agreed. “Should also assume that the rest of the Band of Lovers will be after us, too. Maybe even other Rangers and law enforcement. We need to tread very lightly.”

Curtis looked over his shoulder at Mabel.

“We’ll do everythin’ we can t’keep ya safe, kid,” he assured her.

“I’ll be fine,” Mabel snickered. “I saved you from Payton last time, remember?”

Curtis chuckled and faced forward. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Curtis spurred his horse to pick up speed and Sly mimicked the motion to keep pace. The Ranger watched Mabel bob up and down on the back of Curtis’s saddle, still thinking of the night before. He wasn’t sure what to say to the girl if anything. She hadn’t acknowledged the evening’s events in any way that he noticed, except perhaps for her quiet tone when he brought her breakfast. She may have only been tired, though. Mabel just stared ahead at the wavy landscape and held tight to the saddle. Within a couple of hours, Onyxlanding disappeared from the horizon.

To be continued…