Dirt, Dust and Cordite

by NegativeVelocity

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Adventure
Length: 2820

[Western] When a remote town is threatened by a mob of bandits, and the Sheriff killed, it's up to the incompitent deputy to prove himself and save his hometown. [Cover image appearing soon]

A Pony Western Adventure!
The town of Featherloq has been under threat by the notorious group of bandits know as the Iron Hoof. No harm has come to the town until the Sheriff was shot and killed during an attack on Iron Hoof. This leaves his only deputy, Dusty, to become the new sheriff and defend his town. Although, not everyone is happy with their new sheriff…

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-08-22 00:00:05 UTC

Chapter I: Heavy Hooves

Nopony really knows how Dusty ever got to be in law enforcement. Really. Nopony knows. Rumor has it he tackled some troublemakers and brought them to a deputy when he was just a colt, and then, *POOF. There it was. A six pointed star on his flank.*

At any rate, he's not the best at what he does. Far from it, in fact. He can barely aim. He can't reload a six-shooter without dropping the bullets all over the ground first. And on top of that he can't even shoot straight. Except when under extreme pressure.

Sounds strange, right? Well the only time anypony's seen him useful is about a month ago when some theives showed in town and started terrorising the residents. Sheriff jumps out and starts shooting. And starts missing. Dusty was pinned behind the doors to the Sheriff's office, and quick as anypony had ever seen, all six shots from his gun found a mark. And that was that. First time anypony ever really respected Deputy Dusty.

When Celestia's sun reached a certain point in the sky, it glared directly into the eyes of the young stallion. This worked out nicely, as this was the exact time that he needed to be out of bed and off to work. It also reflected nicely against the three gems hanging from strings as a sort of chandelier in the middle of his house.

Dusty's home was a small, single roomed building, which took its place in the eastern front of Featherloq, making it the first to find sun in the morning.

Sliding out of his bed, Dusty gave a little stretch, a yawn, and moved slowly over to the kitchen corner.

Some ponies have an instinct. When they just... feel something is wrong, and it is. This morning, Dusty had this feeling. Something was going to happen today, he just didn't know what.

Polishing off his breakfast, he pulled on his Deputies' overcoat, pinned on his badge (with the usual difficulty), and slung the holster containing his six-shooter around his waist, where it sat just below the six-pointed star on his flank. Again, Dusty felt that something was off, that something was going to go wrong.

The early morning sun had risen just high enough to skim the rooftops of the rest of the town, as Dusty walked along the dirt path towards the Sheriff's office. He'd always liked the cool stillness of the mornings, it was calming and serene, before anypony else was up and about. As if on cue from his thoughts, a pegasus with a coat the colour of rusted copper flapped lightly past him, carring a bucket in his mouth. As the pegasus reached the well in the middle of town and lowered the bucket into it, he and Dusty nodded, mutually.

Heavy hooves trotted along the path that the sunlight traced through the dirt towards the station, and still, Dusty couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

He pushed the feeling down into the part of his brain which he reserved for pushing feelings down into, and opened the door to the station. Breathing in the old, familiar smell of rotting floorboards and unclean bedclothes from the cells, Dusty stepped into the empty building. The sunlight poured into the room, casting lined shadows against the floor due to the bars on the windows.

Speaking of bars, Dusty trotted over to the leftmost cell where a single prisoner slept. Confirming that he was still there, Dusty turned around saw his reflection in the mirror, which hung above the Sheriff's desk. Staring back at him was the same young, lanky stallion that always did. His sawdust coloured coat and dark brown mane were messy and unkempt, appearing even more so in the grimy and cracked mirror. As if to add to the image, there were also bags under his great, steely blue eyes.

From behind him came the sound of hoofsteps from the next room. Moments later, in walked Sheriff Broken Stars. His grey coat matched his even greyer mane, which was half hidden underneath the sheriff's hat perched atop his head. He was even growing a thick goatee on his muzzle.

"Oh, Dusty! Didn't hear you come in, son," he said, loudly.

"Morning, Sir. How are you?" Dusty asked, sitting down in a chair opposite the desk.

"Not too good," Broken Stars shook his head, "them Iron Hoof's done caused some trouble. Somethin' bad..."

"What've they done now?" sighed Dusty, "threatened another farmer? Intimidated a group of miners?"

"No, they've taken a hostage,"

"What!?" exclaimed Dusty, suddenly going wide eyed. The Iron Hoof were a gang of bandits who'd recently come from up north. They'd mostly stuck to cattle rustling and harsh threats, but nothing this serious. Why had they taken a hostage? Why now of all times? "Who is it?"

"I don't rightly know, but rumor has it they're askin' for a trade." Negotiation? That doesn't seem like something a group of bandits would do. Wouldn't seem they even know the word. "They're givin' up the hostage, an' in exchange, we let them through town."

"That's all? Nothing else? You don't think they have some ulterior motive, sir?"

The Sheriff looked puzzled, "Interior what? You know Ah don't know your highfalutin' words there, son."

Dusty sighed, "Do they have something else planned, do you think?"

"Without a doubt." Broken Stars looked out the window at the pale blue skies, lighting up with the sun. "We're burning daylight here, Dusty. If we don't get a move on we might be too late in savin' that hostage."

Both Broken Stars and Dusty got up and headed to the door. "You want me to round up a posse?" the former asked.

"At this hour?"

"Well, there was one pony outside just now..."

"Well, he'll do. Go an' get him, meet me at the south road." Outside, he turned to Dusty and said, "Oh, Dusty. Please try not to screw this up. We don't want another damn distillery incident."

Dusty nodded solemnly, and headed back to the centre of town. He reached the rusty-copper pony who was filling a second bucket, and explained the situation.

"Damn. Deputy, I'll get my gun. Oh, name's Rusty, by the way." he said as he took off into the air. Rusty. How apt. Moments later, Rusty returned with a rifle slung around his back. Together, they trotted after the  Sheriff, down the south road. Approaching the edge of town, Rusty and Dusty met up with Broken Stars, who was pacing impatiently at the road.

"This all?" he asked. Rusty and Dusty nodded. "Right, then lets go." Together, they galloped off down the road and into the desert. Minutes flew by, as did the countryside, as they headed for where the Sheriff said the Iron Hoof were camping out. It was relatively close to the Easthoof canyon, which stretched along to the north, towards the salt plates.

They arrived at a small cliff, which overlooked a tiny cave opening. Withing the opening around fifty or so ponies were milling about. Several of them were packing large crates, while others were loading and polishing weapons. Two however, were keeping watch on a young pony who was sitting against a wall, hooves bound.

Broken Stars pulled a pair of binoculars out of his saddlebags, Rusty drew his rifle, and Dusty pulled the six-shooter from his holster.

"Whadda you see, Sheriff?" whispered Rusty, taking ponies in with his rifle, switching between targets as they went out and came into range.

"Ah don't think they can see us," he murmured back, "we're in a blind spot of their view from their hole. They're loadin' lots a guns for moving. Looks like they're ready for an attack..." He handed the binoculars to Dusty on his left, who scanned around the cavern.

"What's the plan?" he asked around the gun in his mouth.

"We go in nice an' quiet. Make a distraction, lure as many as we can away, get the captive, and high-tail it back to town." Broken Stars looked about again, for a stealthy approach to put his plan into motion.

Rusty murmured in agreement, and Dusty nodded vigorously. They trotted quietly around the edge of the basin, to a thin ledge which served as a path to the bandit's hideout. Broken Stars went first, sliding carefully along, then gracefully leaping to the ground. As quiet as a mouse. Rusty followed suit.

Dusty gulped as he lowered his hooves onto the ledge. Eyes on the path ahead, he got around halfway along-- CRASH! Broken Stars and Rusty facehoofed simultaneously as Dusty tumbled from the ledge, and onto an empty crate.

"What th-- SIR! SIR! WE GOTS INTRUDERS, WE DO!" a pale blue stallion screamed at the top of his lungs, rushing back to the centre of the cavern. Instantly, the rest of the bandits were galvanised into action, grabbing rifles and pistols in their hooves, and taking cover.

"CELESTIA DAMN IT DUSTY!" screamed the Sheriff, leaping over a large boulder behind him and whipping out his own six shooter. Instantly, the air around the trio was fulled with dust, as several dozen ponies fired upon them.

"Sometimes I wounder how you even made deputy..." Rusty growled, peeking out from behind his cover to take a few shots from his lever action repeater.

Dusty hung his head in shame. Once again he'd put not only himself, but a civilian, a hostage and the Sheriff in mortal danger, just because he couldn't look where he was going. It was just like the distillery all over again. Suddenly, Dusty had an idea. One that could, quite possibly, redeem him. To his left was a seam in the cave wall, which looked like it stretched all the way back around the cave. It was worth a shot.

"Sheriff! Rusty! On my count, I'll need you to cover me! I'm changing position!" he called over the roar of bullets and screams of bloodthirsty ponies.

"You insane, boy?" Broken Stars called back, firing around the side of his cover.

"Quite possibly, sir!" Dusty replied. "THREE, TWO, ONE. NOW!" Rusty and Stars swung out from cover, furiously working their respective triggers and pushing back the enemy momentarily. In said moment, Dusty leapt from behind the slightly crushed crate, and to the opening in the wall. He squeezed into it, and disappeared from sight.

It was indeed, very tight. But it did seem to stretch all the way around the cavern. Dusty pulled himself through the vertical crevice with some difficulty. He cut himself more than once on a jagged wall, after tripping on a hidden whiskey bottle. Small shafts of light from the main cavern provided both illumination and navigation through the crevice, and soon, Dusty found himself behind the enemy, who were holed up in three lines in front of Rusty and Broken Stars.

Seeing no way out, he decided to make his own. Finding just enough room to rotate himself, Dusty reared back and kicked the thin line of rock between him, and the action. It crumbled a lot easier than expected, and Dusty came tumbling through, landing on something soft.

"Oww... What the hell?" the pile of rocks beneath him groaned. He quickly clambered off, and began to move the rubble. Underneath, was a young unicorn mare with a dark, sea green coat, and a tangled saddle coloured mane. "Who are you?" she asked groggily, opening a pair dark pink eyes.

"Sorry, ma'am." said Dusty, as professionally as he could, helping the bound mare to her hooves. "I'm with the Sheriff's department, we're taking you home."

"What?" she said, still disorientated.

"We're here to rescue you!" Dusty shouted over the gunfire.

"Oh, that's good," the mare said weakly, before holding out here bound hooves, "if you'd be so kind..." Dusty pulled out a short knife and sliced through the mare's bindings.

"Ma'am I need you to follow exactly what I say, do you understand?" Dusty asked, as the mare looked at him, oddly.

"Yes, sir. And my name is Silver Azura."

"Azura?" Dusty asked, skeptically eyeing her green coat. She nodded, then looking queasy, held her head in her hooves.

The crackling gunfire roared on in the background, as two or three bandits were hit, and fell over backwards. Dusty suddenly realised, he had no escape plan. He could fit through the crevice, but the mare might not. And even if they did, how would they get back up without being shot? His brain whirred as he attempted to think of a plan to escape that didn't involve them all dying.

"Sir, if you're looking for a way out... there's another path around the corner, there." Azura pointed meekly with a hoof, before slumping against the wall.

"Azura, can you walk?" asked Dusty, concerned.

"No, I can't, sir."

The bandits must have not given her any food or water for the time she was kept captive, Dusty deduced. He signaled across the cavern, to Broken Stars and Rusty to hold their position, and then pulled the limp form of Azura across his back.

"It'll be alright ma'am, I'll get you back to town, but I need you to stay put outside."

Azura lamely nodded and asked, "Could you get my bag please?" she pointed to a sturdy suitcase lying askew in the dirt a few metres away. Dusty grabbed the case in his mouth and dragged himself and Azura towards the steep road leading out of the cavern. When he reached the split of sunlight that marked the surface, he dropped the suitcase, and gently lowered Azura to the ground. Once he was sure she was fine, he sprinted back inside.

A basis for a plan had formed in Dusty's mind: Create a distraction to allow Broken Stars and Rusty to escape; once they escape, they distract the bandits so Dusty can escape; Dusty collects Azura and they all escape together. So far, the Iron Hoof bandits hadn't noticed Dusty and Azura's escape, as their attention was fixed on the Sheriff and Rusty.

He took a deep breath, and drew his revolver. For Dusty, the world seemed to go in slow motion. Everything became clearer, and everypony's movements could be easily anticipated. Dusty lined up his first shot, and pulled the trigger. The first bandit was hit in the back of the neck and dropped like a stone. Dusty eased the hammer back, and again, in slow motion fired a second perfect shot at another bandit. By the fourth kill, the bandits had wised up as to who was killing them. As one, they turned and faced their barrage towards Dusty, who barely made it into cover.

The few that continued shooting at the Sheriff, were quickly dealt with. He and Rusty, clambered back up the ledge the had entered the cavern through. A moment later, they both appeared at the edge of the basin, and resumed their firing.

The rock that Dusty was hidden behind was nearly obliterated by the monsoon of munitions hailing down on him. Slowly, the rain of fire turned back towards the lip of the cavern, where Rusty was busy reloading. Taking his one and only chance, Dusty galloped from cover, firing the two final shots he had remaining, one of which found a target.

"Miss Azura! We'll be going now!" he said when he reached the surface, and found Azura, who had taken a bottle of slightly dirty water from her suitcase and was re-hydrating herself.

"Okay." she replied, with a bit more life in her voice than last time they'd spoken. Dusty heaved her onto his back, grabbed the suitcase in his muzzle, and sprinted around the outside of the basin, to join Rusty and the Sheriff.

"If you ever pull something like that again, son. I'll shoot you myself." was his heroes welcome as he approached the Sheriff. "That was the stupidest, most foalish thing I have ever witnessed. But by Celestia, it took balls." Dusty grinned, sheepishly, yet proudly. "For once Dusty, I'm proud of yo--" his words were cut short, however, by the bullet that raced through his head.

The world turned grey. The light in Broken Star's eyes twinkled out as they snapped shut, and his limp body fell to the dirt. The bullets whizzing past them were paid no heed. Neither Dusty nor Rusty cared that anyone of them could send them the same way as the Sheriff. The former was the first to come to his senses.

"Dusty." he said, moving out of range of the basin. "Dusty we need to go. There's time enough to mourn later. We need to go now, or else they'll follow us." Rusty carefully pulled Broken Stars over his back, mimicking Dusty and Azura, and broke into a steady gallop back to Featherloq. Absentmindedly, Dusty picked up Azura's suitcase, and followed after him.