"Thanks, dad." Miles said to his father, hugging him as Chase started packing their things.

        "Of course son," Dexter rested his chin on his cowboy hat, patting his back. And he gestured over to their horses, "Let's get them cleaned up and go back to the ranch before other people show up. We're allowed here but I'd rather not stir up the idea that we're trespassers."

        Miles nodded and hurriedly grabbed the brush from his horse's saddle, and got right on it. Silver stamped on the ground, liking the persistence and care he received, leaning against the young wolf when he was finished. He then asked for another sugar cube, seeing that his father had had a big bag of it the whole time.

        Silver got a piece, and he tried one himself out of curiosity. It was sweet on the chew, and it did help distract him from the heat. Once the other horses were cleaned, and that his father and uncle were ready, they went on their merry way. Downwards from the hill, and through the small river crossing from earlier. But all the animals had left by then. He missed them already. Going back familiar paths made the trip seem shorter than it was going to their destination. But it did speed up once they were out of the Wilson Canyon's main entrance, to the surprise of a few visitors who looked at them with curious wonder. He saw his father tip his hat to them, but seeing as he himself didn't know how to, he simply tilted his downward with a slight bow. Chase behind him waved at them goodbye.

        "We're going back to the stables, and t o the shooting range after where we'll pay Ricky a visit before we drive back home to the ranch." Dexter said to them.

        Miles leaned forward and aligned with his father on the side of the road. "I can't wait."

        "If he lets you, son. We're still guests, so if he lets you, he lets you."

        "Right." He concurred. Still, his chest pumped with excitement at the thought of firing a big iron, again. But if not, then maybe he can ask for his father's permission back in Canada instead. "So why aren't revolvers common anymore?"

        "Humm…" Dexter thought about it for a bit. "It's about efficiency. For a revolver, you have to reload one bullet at a time, but for a common handgun like the M9, you already have a magazine that holds up to fifteen." He wasn't done. "Old revolvers aren't as configurable, and don't fire as quick as a semi-auto. Y'know the hammer we pull back on a handgun?"

        "Yeah?"

        "You have to pull it back each time on certain revolvers. Certain ones don't but reloading them takes long all the same."

        "Ooooh. So all the revolvers now are custom made or vintage? Like a collector's item?"

        "Not always. Sometimes they're still used by law enforcement because your typical criminal won't always have a gun. And if they did, a more powerful response would be called upon. But soldiers definitely don't use revolvers anymore. It's been phased out since World War Two."

        "That long ago."

        "Yep," Chase added. "That long ago."

        Miles noticed that they were riding past the ranch. Azenu was probably still inside. "Maybe we can refill our canteens first?"

        Dexter and Chase together said, "That's actually a good idea."

        And they circled their steeds back around and into the ranch. Knocking politely on the door where Azenu met them with glee, and were invited into the kitchen for a glass of iced tea and home baked biscuits.

        Miles liked them because they were fluffy and airy, and it goes well with the sweetness of his drink. He watched Chase hand back the backpack he brought, and Azenu swapped its contents with the instruction of bringing them to Ricky this time around. The protogen sure speaks highly of his partners, hearing him talk about their time at the special picnic spot a lot. It did confirm his suspicion that it was a great area for stargazing. He listened intently to Azenu talking about how visible the stars were, and how they twinkled from behind the mountain ranges, peeking over the horizon like the sun as the Earth rotated.

        But Azenu had to stop himself, admitting that he had a habit of talking on and on about the things he loves. He sent them on their way as he started preparing their dinner for tonight: good 'ol American Hamburgers.

        They made their way to the stables after. Miles saw the great farmlands, a contrast of green from the typical brown, or the faded plant life amongst the sands. Crops that were close to being harvested. "What time are we gonna wake up tomorrow for the farm work?" He asked his father.

        "Oh?" Dexter was surprised but impressed by his initiative. "O-six hundred. We'll be milking them by hand."

        "Doesn't sound difficult." Chase said.

        Miles nodded. Seemed simple from what he'd seen in movies and shows. But what he did know was one shouldn't drink it directly or risk a sort of disease because it hadn't been pasteurized. But it would be an easy fix by simply heating it. He didn't expect a highschool lesson to actually aid him right then and there. "What else will we be doing?"

        "I don't know yet." Dexter shrugged. "But he'll like your enthusiasm, son."

        "Thanks."

        They arrived at the stable fifteen minutes later with Ricky cleaning his car. He waved at his friends arriving, "Dex, Miles, and Chase! I trust you found our spot?"

        "Yep. It's a nice area for a picnic." Dexter said. "Just left before other people started trekking."

        "That's good. Hopefully none of you scared the wildlife?"

        Miles answered, "Nope. They were quite peaceful."

        "Excellent!" He moved forward to rub Midnight's muzzle. "Lead them to the stable, and we'll take a trip down range. I wanna show you all what I've been practicing on."

        Miles grinned ear to ear at that. He kept his excitement by taking another swig of his water. He led to the slot that had Silver's name on a plaque that was made of silver. "Your horses are well behaved, sir Ricky."

        "Just Ricky will do, and yeah. Breeding the best racehorses in the county." He said. "But if not for racing, I was considering them for the local authorities. Have them act out like actual sheriffs."

        Miles got off his horse and Ricky stepped in to help him remove the horse's saddle and other harnesses before Silver started feeding on the hayunder her. The hybrid then led them to his car where he was letting it dry, fetching a weapon's suitcase from the trunk.

        Dexter then said to him, while they were walking to the range, "Why don't you ask him what's inside?"

        "Is it a revolver?" Miles asked immediately to the adults chuckling.

        "Not only a revolver." Ricky patted the end of the case. "I got a repeater in it too." He looked at Dexter, "Going to teach your dad how to lever it."

        "What's a repeater?"

        "It is a lever-action rifle that fires small caliber munitions. It's like pumping a shotgun, but instead of pump, you pull a lever that fits into your knuckles. And when you 'lever' it, it's like firing a gun in rapid succession. It only depends on how fast you can pull on it."

        Miles saw his father raise a brow, apparent to him that he too learned something new today.

        "It's hard to do something while you're aiming down sights." He heaved the suitcase and aimed down its handle like he would a rifle. "But that was how the old west was like."

        What Miles didn't notice, however, was Dexter exchanging glances with Ricky, then both looking at his son. The latter mouthing 'Oh, I see.' And nodded.

        Ricky then asked what Miles had been waiting for, "How's about it ijo, wanna fire a revolver?"

        "Can I?!" Miles grabbed his father's arm for approval.

        "Of course," Dexter patted him through his cowboy hat. "What's a cowboy who's not fired a revolver?"

        Miles understood it as a right of passage. "What's the recoil like?" He asked Ricky, his mentality and muscles recalled the earlier memory of being in a gun range where he fired a pistol a few years ago.

        Ricky said, "I'll let you borrow my Cattleman Revolver. It has a kick to it so I won't let you one-hand it, alright?"

        "Okay!" Miles' tail wagged fast, dusting the dirt behind him.

        "While your father and uncle will be given a Winchester 1873." Ricky raised a finger adding a nifty point to this fact, "Both your guns will be using the same ammunition too. And don't worry, I'll showcase the rest in the coming days. Maybe you guys can have a shooting competition with Fierro. He's the better shot."

        Now that was something Miles would've wanted to see. A shooting competition between soldiers of different armies. He would costlessly wager his father winning easily. But since Ricky was going to showcase more guns in the coming days, maybe he himself could fire from a repeater too? Try out that so-called 'levering'.

        The shooting range that Ricky had been using looked like an old stable. There were multiple hay bales painted with target signs right outside the building, and scarecrow stilts inside.

        Ricky explained to them, "This is where the old stable was." He looked at the structure and towards the current one that was a stretch away. "It was better closer to the road because it allowed us to move our horses more efficiently. And that moving trucks to drop 'em off or pick 'em up proved to be a hassle." He gave the weapon's case to Dexter and went to the stable to fetch a large table, which Miles and Chase helped him with as they brought it over to the edge of the fence where they were going to shoot from.

        Miles peeked from Ricky's side as the hybrid opened the case. For old weapons, they looked well maintained and cleaned. Varnished wooden stocks, shining chrome, and pristine bolts that hold them together. There are two revolvers on opposite sides with the repeater resting in the middle.

        "The Cattleman," Ricky lifted up one of them. "1873, single action." He twisted it to make it shine from the barrel to its frame, while keeping the barrel away from anyone of course.

        He noticed the differences from the movies he's watched. There was a small protrusion located on the lower right side of the barrel. Ricky explained and presented the mechanism that ejected the bullet from its cylinder. The hybrid rotated the gun to show it to them, seeing that there was a small lock that kept it inside.

        Ricky loaded one round at a time, letting his friends hear the click that locks the cylinder so another bullet can be added. He did it five more times and closed the cylinder lock. He pulled the hammer back; the gun was live. He held the gun with both hands for the youngster. He eyed the bullseye in the middle hay bale and fired.

        Miles covered his ears to how loud the first bang was. It was louder than a handgun for sure, and its sound echoed farther. But to his surprise, it was only slightly different from a regular handgun. He was amazed with Ricky's accuracy, seeing the shot afterwards land square in the middle of the red circle.

        "But that's not all. I would like for all of you to stand back."

        Everyone stepped back, and Ricky urged them all to his left. He twirled the gun on his right to holster it first. He unpins the hammer and spun the cylinder once. Legs spread open to distribute his weight; Miles knew what he was about to do. The hybrid raised his arms, but his right hand flexed his fingers about to grab his firearm.

        Miles only heard the gunshot that came after, stunning him aback as Ricky had fired from his hip, hitting within the inner ring of the target. His father clapped first, then he and Chase after.

        Ricky then brought the gun up and positioned it in front of him while gesturing to Dexter and Miles to take over. And of course Chase beside him already prepared the camera. His father took the gun and unpinned it for his son before passing it onto him.

        "Just like a pistol," Dexter said to him. "But expect the kick to be stronger."

        "Okay," Miles eyed down the small nub at the end of the barrel. The varnished wood on his hands was smooth, unusual for any gun he'd held before. He closed an eye to focus down, tightening his grip, and distributing his weight through spreading his legs to best control the recoil. Finger then on the trigger, Dexter standing back while holding his shoulder.

        "Buena suerte, Miles," Ricky said.

        He pulled the trigger, feeling the inner mechanisms of the gun turn and spin as the pin hammers the bullet inside the cylinder. It fired with a kick twice as the handgun he had fired before, but mitigated most of it. His shot was within the outer ring of the bullseye, seeing the third shot pierce through the hay. And when the loud bang subsided, it was filled with cheers from his father and uncle, and Ricky applauding him.

        "Good shot, ijo," Ricky notioned him to hand the gun to his father.

        Miles accomplished his rite of passage as a cowboy, bestowing that honor to his father next. He stepped back, watching him unpin and aim within the moment, and this time with only one arm. With firing that shot, Miles noticed the amount of smoke pluming from the barre, his father lifting it close to his lips and blowing it away like they did in the movies. His shot was on the corner of the bullseye, but he had more flair than the hybrid.

        Chase stepped up, passing the camera to Ricky. Dexter wasn't done with the theatrics, twirling the gun in the air before he offered the handle first to the panther. He accepted it, spinning it much simpler in his hands, then unpinned the hammer once he aimed it at the target. It was another short quiet before the next shot rang out.

        At this point, Miles had gotten used to it. Chase returned the gun to Ricky who was not to be outdone by Dexter's display. He started twirling the gun as usual, and he tossed it into the air in a spin that he caught with his other hand. Motions of his fingers were so fast that he barely missed the unpinning of the hammer as he spun the cylinder once again, and then tossed it behind him, before catching it without looking. And he fired from the side of his hip, twirling the gun into his holster.

        "Now that's a show right there," Dexter clapped.

        Miles followed suit. Ricky was a true cowboy in his eyes, "Do you bring your revolvers during your tours?"

        Ricky scoffed and patted the young wolf's shoulder, "Oh I wish. It ain't allowed. Logistics, kiddo." He unholstered his gun and placed it inside the weapon case, swapping it out for a Winchester Model 1873. He showed how to load it up; a small slot where the same type of cartridge went in. And compared to the revolver, this one holds fifteen while having an easier reload. For Miles' benefit, he essentially said it was like a shotgun but you pull on the lever just below the trigger and gun stock to load in the next round while unpinning the hammer too.

        Miles had to step back to watch Ricky not only fire it, but lever the weapon too. When he fired it, the gun was not as loud as the revolver, and upon pushing the lever with his middle and ring finger, he saw the spent casing eject, as the firing pin was pushed back into ready position. And he fired again.

        Ricky passed it to Dexter who fired it twice, and then Chase after who fired the same amount too before receiving it again. He reloaded six rounds and urged his friends to stand aside. He fired, levered, fired, levered– the process of loading one shot after the other had been streamlined with how fast the lever moved. From the hips, with the ease of his arms, it was almost like an automatic rifle.

        And he had to display some theatrics too; pushing with the momentum of releasing the gun, causing it to spin in place before he fired it again. Miles applauded first at that.

        The young wolf looked at the hay bale riddled with holes. It showed that levering wasn't as accurate from afar. And though cool as it would be, compared to weapons they had in modern times, it was only half efficient compared to now. But he digressed in his reflection. The bottomline of that afternoon was that they were all cowboys then.

        Ricky had put the guns away at the time, urging Miles and his father to join the hay bale barely standing on its twigs, while Chase set the camera up for their quick photo op. It wasn't anything too fancy then; Miles crouched besides the target with his father hugging him, Ricky holding onto his target, and Chase standing aside, resting his shoulder around him.

        Today…

        Miles finishes the photo album labeled 'Shooting Day' on his phone, with several more albums that have more photos inside them once he's zoomed out. And he looks at his surroundings, and everyone's either knocked out drunk, or just chatting the night away like he was with Dan. His father is conversing with Chase, exchanging laughs, and he turns back to the lion who nodded at his little story.

        "That's cool, I've never used weapons from the Old West." Dan finishes the only drink he's had so far, because he was quite intent in listening to Miles' story. "But that was a good story you told there. I think I've heard of Sergeant Furgo too. But he's retired I think? Or I might be thinking of his partner."

        "How? He and my dad are about the same age." Miles raises a brow in surprise. He's so good with weapons, what had happened to him?

        "He got an injury in Afghanistan. He's got fractures from being tossed after an IED, which almost made him unfit for military service. That said, one moment." Dan gets up and walks towards the bar, fetching a bottle of scotch and two shot glasses. He pours one out for each of them, sliding one over to the Halifax Reaper. "How's about we drink one to him?" Lifting his glass in solidarity.

        Miles sighs yet feels happy, imagining that past the worry that Ricky's gotten hurt, he's relaxing now somewhere in his ranch with his partners. That's a sweet ending to have. Hope they're all doing alright. Hell, maybe he can pay him a visit, show him the tricks of fanning and levering this time around. "To Ricky," Miles raises his glass to meet with Dan's. "And to us for Silent Lightning."

        "Hear hear!" And they both downed their shots in one go.

        Miles feels the hot buzz kick in and warming his veins. He still remembers that old power ranger growl as he shows his fangs, and that old urge to lift his head and let out a howl with the specks of scotch escaping his lips. His father joins in, Chase joins in, even Dan and anyone else who isn't knocked out drunk joins in too.

        And when the room's mellowed down, knowing they'll be reprimanded tomorrow for unsolicited howling, Miles takes another shot and laughs it off, then continues where he left off.

****

Thank you for reading!