I initially wanted to draw a different header for this part but I already drew it in my Red Eddie pic: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/51589189/

So I changed parts so there wouldn't be more or less a duplicate.

TW/CW: Heads up that this section of the story depicts old west style gun violence.

--

Sufficiently loaded up with extra ammunition belts and given loan of a long sighted rifle that he vaguely offered to return, Eddie took off like a shot back east along the road. He rode his quail hard into the afternoon and as the sun sank low and the shadows started to bleed across the hills he left the open road and traveled high along the ridge of the closest hill. He spotted the two white chalk cliffs that rose on either side of the road like a wall and slowed his quail to a walk.

“Steady Blarn’.” he patted the bird’s neck and eased him forward up the hill. The sun was gone now and he was relying on the light of the half moon glowing brilliantly above in the cloudless night sky to light his way.

Once on top of the cliff he slid off the quail’s back and crept noiselessly across the bare rock until he could look down the other side. From this height he could see the surrounding area for miles. Down below in the inky blackness of the moon-cast shadow of the cliff he spotted the orange glow of a large campfire and several smaller pricks of light, which must have been lanterns. He pulled out the sighted rifle and squinted down the mounted scope. He wouldn’t be able to do damage from this distance but he wanted to try and get a better look at what he was dealing with. He positioned the sight over the fire and spotted a lithe reptilian figure and two mice working a large make-shift spit with something large skewered on it. Movement caught his eye as a lantern-carrier walked past them and their light up the side of a small pot-bellied wagon.
The fur on the back of Eddie’s neck stood up as he recognized the patchwork canvas in the firelight. He followed the lantern carrier, a shrew, as they reached the base of a tree a ways off from the others in the deep shadow. As the shrew raised their light Eddie caught sight of a small mouse figure hanging from one of the branches and he gasped out as he felt bile rise in his throat when he recognized the large black spot on the figure's face.

“Patch…” he gasped weakly.

Eddie pulled the sight away and sat back on the rock feeling as though his stomach was being flooded with ice water. He took a sharp breath and shut his eyes tight, reaching up and pulled off his hat and pushed his fingers through his curly headfur, gripping it hard. He bent almost double until he was curled up forward on the stone fighting to breathe normally. Tears wouldn’t come, only horrific burning pain in his throat and chest. Fury and pain and anguish fighting inside for him to do something, anything. But what could he do…
He released his headfur, his fingers catching in the curly tangles as he shakily pushed himself up into a sitting position and ground the heel of his hand against his dry eyes. He took a slow, long breath then picked up the rifle again and forced himself to look through the sights, steadying his shaking hands until he could lock the sight onto the hanging figure in the firelight. His eyes started to well but he blinked them free. He needed to see clearly.
He stared for a long time in the dim light until the lantern bearing shrew moved again and the light flashed across the hanging mouse’s body and Eddie felt his heart leap into his throat noticing that the mouse, which was definitely Patch, was not hanging lifelessly by his neck, but hanging off the ground tied by his wrists above his head. There was a chance, a small one, but a chance… that he was still alive.

Fierce energy coursed through Eddie anew as he crammed his hat back onto his head and stole away from the edge of the cliff back to his quail. He couldn’t reach them from here, but as soon as he was close enough he would rain hellfire on them all. He set his steely green eyes forward and flattened his ears. He was a son of Roach, a sharp shooting outlaw. He was Red Eddie O’Shea and he was about to kill every last one of them.

“Yer alive.” he said softly under his breath as he rode into the inky shadows. “You have to be…”

–

It took the better part of an hour to get down the cliff in the deepest shadow on quailback. Eddie moved painstakingly slowly so as not to rustle any vegetation or scatter loose pebbles. He was glad that his quail, a seasoned masked bobwhite he called Blarney, was used to stealing up on encampments in the dark and made no extra noise as they maneuvered their way down almost to level ground.

Eddie could see clearly now without the rifle scope that the dark shape on the spit over the fire was definitely the roasting body of a bird, a quail. He could smell the meat cooking as the wind shifted. From his position he was level with the height Patch was hanging, but still too far back in the brush to talk to him, and from this angle he was a grim silhouette against the firelight.

Eddie dismounted Blarney and looped the reins loosely around the stalk of a milkweed plant. He put on his ammunition bandolier and slung the rifle across his back. He pulled his right pistol and moved towards the tree Patch was hanging from. The closer he got the more he could start to hear voices around the fire.

“Gonna take forever to cook.” a rasping feminine voice scoffed. “You should have cut it up smaller!”

“Be my guest.” a male voice snapped. “I’ll be stinking of its blood for days already. Besides, I like roasting birds whole. Tastes better.”

“So you’re a chef now, Irving?” the female voice sneered. “Shall we call you ‘Cookie’?”

“Shut up, Ruth!” Irving snapped.

“Both of you shut up!” a deeper male voice entered the conversation. “I’ll not have you sour the mood. This has been a good score.”

Eddie reached the edge of the brushline at the base of the hill and flattered out on his stomach in the grass to watch and listen. Around the fire was the fence lizard, Ruth, her companion operating the spit was a scrawny looking mouse with a floppy hat that flattened his ears awkwardly. The new voice was of a bigger mouse, a dark-furred buck that must have been Walter Reeves, the leader of the gang according to the wanted poster Eddie had seen. The shrew that had been carrying the lantern showed up at Reeves’ side and spat into the fire.

“Plenty more still in the wagon, hoss.” The shrew’s voice was nasally and preening towards the larger rodent. “Not a speck of meat though. Vegetables, rice, bread, ruffage.” he snorted, making his long twitching nose flinch comically. “Found a few more bottles of fine spirits tucked under the floorboards, as well as this.” he held up a box of something that Eddie couldn’t make out, but the hearty laugh from Reeves must have meant he approved.

“Well done, keep tearing it apart with Haskell. We’ll be set for a few days of feasting. No more meat’s not a problem. There’s still another quail.” he tossed his head to the shadow area behind the wagon. “You can butcher the next one, Ruth.”

Eddie’s gut panged, realizing the bird on the spit was one of Patch’s quail but moved away from the fire conversation towards the base of the tree. He was too close to Patch to start sending off shots. If he drew fire in the shadows, it was too much of a risk that Patch would be caught in the crossfire. He would have to get him down first if possible.
He found the tail of the rope hanging Patch attached to an iron piton driven deep into the smooth bark of the tree. He stole up on the shadow side of the tree and holstered his pistol, drawing out his knife he started to work fast. The rope snapped and lurched him upward as he held tight to the severed end. The rope jostled and for the first time Eddie saw Patch stir, raising his head in the dim light and looking up at the branch. His eyes followed the rope down and settled on Eddie before going wide with surprise.
Eddie quickly put a finger to his muzzle to keep him quiet but to his horror the tail of the rope slipped through his hand and Patch fell a short distance to the ground with a thud.

“What was that?” The shrew whipped around near the fire as Ruth stood up and Reeves turned slowly.

“Sounds like our friend is making a run for it. Better go take care of that now.” Reeves jerked his head towards the tree.

Eddie scrambled forward in the grass to Patch’s crumpled figure and cut the binding around his wrists as fast as he could. “You’ve got to get to cover!” he hissed.

“Erry!” Patch grunted and Eddie realized he was gagged with a tight knot around his muzzle. Eddie pulled off the rough linen as Patch gasped for air.

“Eddie there’s six!” his eyes shot above him into the tree above. A shot rang out above them and Eddie gasped as his hat was shot off his head. He grabbed the front of Patch’s shirt and dragged him deeper into the shadows behind the tree, Patch was so numb from hanging for so long he could hardly stand let alone run. Eddie pushed him tight against the base of the tree and pulled his pistol as figures started to run into the shadows after him. He squeezed two shots off at Ruth and the fence lizard screeched and dropped low, skittering under the pot-bellied wagon for cover. Eddie managed to duck behind the trunk before the thunderous boom of a shotgun peppered the front of the tree from Irving.

“Six?” Eddie clarified, remembering the poster. He had only spotted four of the figures from the etching. “Who’s the sixth?”

Patch flinched as more shots rang out in the dark, Eddie had him pressed so tight against the bark he was practically crushing him. “Up the tree!” he panted into his ear.

Eddie cursed as he had to chance looking up in the dark branches but he couldn’t see anything behind the screen of leaves. Eyes above would be a problem if he couldn’t deal with them soon. “Can you shoot?” he asked Patch.

“I’m… I’ve never–” Patch floundered as Eddie pulled his left gun and pushed it into his hand.
“Pull the hammer back, aim, pull the trigger. Six shots.” Eddie paraphrased as he unslung the rifle and jumped back to look up the tree. There was a rustle that bounded along one of the branches and Eddie raised the rifle, ignoring the scope and blasted blindly into the leaves. There was a yelp and the branches shuddered as Eddie saw his target slip but expertly right themselves with a flail of a huge bushy tail.

“Dammit!” Eddie snapped. He hated fighting squirrels. He dashed back around to the far side of the tree and spotted the mouse with the shotgun had nearly made it to the tree. Eddie drew his pistol and picked him off with a shot to the head. The mouse crumpled into a heap but Eddie was already running to the wagon.
He turned his attention to the shrew, running with the lantern and lowered his aim to shoot out the glass. The shrew screamed as flaming oil engulfed the front of his shirt and trousers and flailed about trying to pat out the flames.

Ruth had left beneath the wagon and climbed up onto the bench seat and shot her pistol at Eddie, who dodged by leaping forward in the grass and rolling under the wagon. He felt the wood creak as Ruth jumped down and he rolled onto his stomach. As she landed in the grass he shot her in the leg and she screeched, stumbling back and giving him time to crawl out of the other side. As he emerged and stood he was now in the full fire light. He could see everything clearly on this side of the wagon, unfortunately they could also see him.

Ruth had sat up and shot at him, enraged, three of her fanning shots went wide but Eddie felt the sting of one of her bullets graze the top of his shoulder. He heard her try to shoot with an empty clicking sound and spun to take her out but there was a rush of movement from behind him and he remembered all too late that Walter Reeves had still been near the fire. He turned to see the large buck slam into him, knocking him to the ground as his wrist was seized and slammed against the wheel of the wagon, breaking his grip on his pistol. The larger buck’s free hand grabbed Eddie’s throat and Eddie gagged as he air was cut. He flailed as he was pinned under a heavy straddle and writhed until his left had came free and he grabbed at Reeve’s belt, patting and grasping until he found a gun holster and pulled free a heavy revolver. Reeves startled and leaned back to try and stop him But Eddie had already cocked and pulled the trigger shooting the buck point black in the gut. Reeve bellowed and fell back as Eddie broke his grip on his throat and heaved for air.

Behind the wagon came a chorus of gunfire and Eddie’s fur bristled remembering Patch was alone with a hidden squirrel assailant in the trees. He had to deal with Ruth first. He scrambled to his feet but to his horror the lizard was gone from where she had fallen.
There was the sound of running feet around the wagon and Eddie raised Reeve’s gun to blast and startled seeing Patch race into the fire light and he reeled with the effort to not shoot him instinctively.

“Eddie!” Patch gasped and stumbled over to him.

“Where’s the squirrel?” Eddie demanded.

“I don’t know.” Patch’s eyes were wide and in the fire light Eddie could finally see that the side of his head was black with crusted blood that covered most of the unspotted side of his face. He had been clobbered pretty badly before. The sight of it enraged Eddie but he couldn’t focus on that now.

“You need to get out of the light!” he told Patch.

“I’m not leaving you alone!” Patch snapped then suddenly gasped and lurched backwards and Eddie gazed in horror seeing Reeves had stumbled forward on his hands and knees and ripped Patch backwards by the tail. He saw a flash of metal in the buck’s hands and did not hesitate, opening fire and emptying the remaining chambers of the pistol into its owner’s head.

Reeves’ body slumped off Patch on the ground and Patch winced and rubbed the spray of blood from his eyes.

“Get to cover!” Eddie demanded and threw the empty gun aside, stooping to pick up his pistol and holding the rifle in his other hand. He backed up towards the fire, turning slowly, looking for his marks..

Patch got up with a wince and backed up against the wagon, holding Eddie’s second pistol and trying to keep an eye out. He stiffened and pointed across the fire. “There!” he shouted to Eddie as a reptilian form streaked past the flames behind the spit of the large roasting quail.

Eddie turned as Ruth limped to take cover behind a stack of broken crates and shot at the ginger buck. Eddie dove around the fire, the roasting bird screened him from view. He ran to circle around the fire to shoot the lizard in the back when a shot rang out from the back of the wagon and Eddie fell hard, clutching his thigh with a gasp. In the light he saw several holes in the side of his trousers start to bleed freely.
A lithe, steel-colored mouse jumped from the back of the wagon holding a shotgun loaded with spider shot. Eddie knew if he had been packing crow shot he would have been killed. Nonetheless, he wasn’t in good shape. He stumbled to sit up as the gray buck advanced, cocking the gun loudly but another shot rang out and the gray buck slumped sideways, dead. Patch was standing back by the wagon, his gun arm outstretched and eyes wide with horror at what he had just done.

Eddie stumbled to his feet and looked behind him, Ruth had moved again. Patch was a sitting duck in the firelight. “Patch! Get down!” Eddie started to run forward when the whole wagon lurched as a heavy weight landed on top of it. Eddie swore and looked up into the black-furred face of a large, muscular squirrel baring long, yellowed teeth at him.

“Drop it!” The squirrel snarled at Eddie and pointed a large sawed-off shotgun down at Patch’s head, close enough for the barrel to touch.

Eddie had his rifle raised to shoot, anger pulsed through him, white hot and painful but the squirrel had gotten the drop on them both. Hating himself with every movement, Eddie forced himself to lower the rifle.

“Good boy.” The squirrel snickered and jumped off the side of the wagon, grabbing Patch by the scruff and lifting him bodily with the gun still trained on his face. “Now, throw your guns into the fire.”

Eddie threw the rifle into the fire. Behind him, he heard the crates shift as Ruth was coming out of hiding.

“The gun belt too.” The squirrel snorted. “This is fun.” he added, pushing the barrel of the gun against Patch’s cheek, making him flinch and start to shake.

Eddie’s lip curled as he fought down a thousand curses and threats but his eyes moved from the squirrels taunting cruel eyes to Patch’s terrified face. He unbuckled the gunbelt slowly and tossed it into the fire, knocking over a box into the flames in the process.

“Was that on purpose!” The squirrel snapped. “That better not have been anything valuable!”

“It wasn’t!” Eddie shouted.

“Say you’re sorry.” the squirrel sneered and fanned his large tail behind him. “Come on, real sincere like.” he pointed the gun at Patch’s chest and Patch’s started to breathe fast and shallow but his eyes weren’t on the gun, they were on the fire.

“I’m… sorry.” Eddie’s teeth were so tightly clenched he felt like they were going to crack.

“Louder!” The squirrel taunted. In his grip Patch started to wriggle madly. The squirrel shook him roughly. “You got a death wish, spotty!” he snapped and Patch raised his hand, still clutching Eddie’s pistol and shot the squirrel through the wrist, forcing him to drop the shotgun.

Eddie rushed the screeching squirrel and punched the much larger rodent in the gut. The squirrel dropped Patch and the white buck scrambled to his feet. Patch seized Eddie by the vest and ripped him away from the squirrel with surprising strength and yanked him around the other side of the wagon before he tackled Eddie flat into the grass, pinning him flat and covering his head with his body.

Eddie could hear the bellowing of the squirrel and the heavy footsteps approaching them and fought to push Patch off.

“Patch! What the hell are y–” Eddie shouted into Patch’s chest. Then there was a massive explosion that sent them both sprawling.

–

Eddie’s head was filled with a painful ringing. He was on his side, thrown far from the campfire. Wait. he thought as he squinted open his eyes and raised his head from the ground. Everything was on fire. He raised his aching body to his hands and knees and saw the pot-bellied wagon was on its side, fully ablaze. The grass around him was on fire too, the area was choked with smoke that glowed orange in an obscure semi-solid haze around him. He coughed to force some of the air in his lungs. He felt like he had been sucker punched by a rat. His heartbeat thudded distantly in his ringing ears as his hearing returned.

He sat up with a wince and saw something dark in the grass further away, partially on fire. The large body of the black-furred squirrel was burning, its fluffy tail a bright blaze.
Eddie’s eyes widened and he looked around for Patch. Patch had thrown himself on top of him to save his life.

“Patch?” Eddie called out, the smoke making his voice rough. “PATCH!” He tried to fan the smoke around him to see better. There was another dark shape further to his left and he crawled towards it, feeling his leg full of spider shot protest every bit of the way. He reached the still form of a mouse, Patch. He felt his back and it was hot with the smoldering remains of his vest.

“Patch!” Eddie cried and rolled him over, lifting him up by his shoulders to rest on his lap, his head lolled limply to the side and Eddie put a hand under his head to steady him.
Patch’s white fur was dark with ash and his head wound was bleeding anew. Eddie pressed his ear to Patch’s chest and held his breath. He tried to will the ringing to die away long enough for him to hear. For a moment, with all the noise and blood pounding in his ears, Eddie was terrified of silence, but then he felt the faint throbbing of a pulse in his hands where he cradled Patch’s neck. He was alive.
Eddie took a shuddering breath and rubbed his eyes, he could feel the tears spilling over and he didn’t care. He stood up on his injured leg and struggled to lift Patch off the ground, he started to drag him out of the smoke when he heard a wheezing, rasping noise from further away. He turned and saw the burnt form of Ruth crawling through the grass away from the blasted, burning camp. Eddie felt the hot boil of rage in his gut and instinctively reached for his pistol but grasped nothing. His guns were gone. He had nothing to shoot her with. He thought about setting Patch down and going after her with his knife but stopped when he heard Patch cough.

“Patch?” he dragged his attention from the fleeing bandit and knelt back down in the grass. “Wake up, come on, that’s a good lad.” he gave him a light jostle and after a few moments Patch’s eye flickered open and stared up at him unfocused.

“Eddie?” he croaked.

Eddie’s mouth trembled but he stretched it into a smile. “Yeah, it’s me you crazy buck.” he brushed some of his feathery soft headfur from his eyes.

Patch tried to smile but winced, making Eddie flinch.

“Are you hurt?” Eddie asked in alarm seeing Patch’s hand grasp his side.

“Are you ok?” Patch asked, his eyes flickering closed. Eddie realized with a jolt he might not be able to hear him yet after the blast.

“I’m grand.” Eddie held his free hand tight. “I’m grand and you’ll be grand too.” he promised. “Now that you’ve blown up all the bandits. Neat trick, that. Should have done it from the beginnin’.” he tried to tease but Patch’s eyes didn’t open again and he saw he was straining to breathe.

“You’ll be ok, just gotta get you out of this smoke.” Eddie continued to talk to him and grunted with the effort of picking him up again. He winced and limped the whole trek, carrying him out of the thick smoke towards the road, across it and into the short grass on the other side. He settled down once more with him in his lap and watched him breathe for a long time. He removed Patch’s hand from his side and saw a blooming bloodstain that made him bristle in alarm. He rolled up his shirt to check and saw he had been sliced above his hip by a blade. He remembered Reeves trying to attack him and swore softly to himself that he hadn’t been fast enough in killing him. As grisly as it looked, Eddie knew it wasn’t a fatal wound. As soon as he had the energy and the light, he could fix the two of them up.

He settled back on his back with a wince, letting Patch rest in his lap. He stared up at the night sky, the moon was turning a hazy gold from the smoke. He breathed out slowly and rested a hand on Patch’s shoulder. Pain throbbed through his body now that the adrenaline of the fight was gone. He knew he’d be stiff and full of aches in the morning. But they were both alive, and right now that was enough.