Intro of the Lone Rider, Marshall of Dodge.
"Stop right there." A deep, gravely voice said.
"Get back Mister! I have hostages!" A mare screamed back from inside the stagecoach.
"Pearl, you've got yourself into a terrible mess. If you want to make it back to Dodge alive, you'll have to do what I say."
"Well, Well! I'll be damned! It must be the new Marshall..." The bandit said, pointing her pistol at one of the stagecoach passengers.
"You're damn right. Now if you don't want to lose what little brains you have, I suggest you step out of the coach with your hooves up." The Marshall said, pulling out his lucky six-shooter.
"Marshall! If you shoot, I shoot!" She screamed, shoving her pistol in the face of the innocent mare.
"Last chance Pearl! I don't have to bring you in alive to get a ten thousand bit bonus." The Marshall cocked his pistol.
"Go to hell!"
The Marshall sighted his pistol on the outlaw's head and pulled the trigger. The weapon burst to life, sending the slug directly into Outlaw Pearl's head. The skull split in half, sending what used to be her head into the far side of the coach. The passengers screamed and ran out of the stagecoach.
"Mr. Marshall! Oh thank you!" A mare said to him, crying.
"You're welcome Miss. Just remember to travel with a gun next time."
"Marshall, you're a truly great stallion." The male pony traveling with her said in appreciation.
"Thank you. I'll take the body, and you two can get back to traveling. Keep her gun though, just in case."
"That's a good idea Marshall." He said, walking up to the stagecoach.
The inside of the cabin was a rather grizzly scene. The corpse of the outlaw was bleeding profusely out of the hole in the back of its head. Marshall Night grabbed the body and pulled it out of the coach. He tied up the hooves together in pairs and turned to the passengers.
"Sorry about the mess folks... the business of public safety is rather messy."
"No problem at all Marshall! I'd say it is a small price to pay for staying alive in a rough world." The Gentlecolt responded, climbing back into the cart.
"Well, I'd better get along. Stay safe folks." The Marshall said, concluding his duties.
Marshall Night took the body and threw it on his back, shouldering the dead bandit. She didn't weigh as much as a stallion, so transportation was easy. The town of Dodge City was only about an hour's walk away. He actually liked walking this route, it gave him time to contemplate. The subject of his contemplation was how the news of Lady Pearl of Huston would be accepted among the riff-raff of Dodge. It certainly seemed like a death warrant.
Lady Pearl of Huston was infamous and well respect at the same time. A criminal of medium notoriety, her name was spread over the surrounding states... wanted for the robbery of three banks, two saloons, and fifty four stagecoaches. A bounty of ten thousand bits was placed on her head by the governor of Mareizona himself. Everypony knew where she was, but nopony knew where she was when the law showed. Typical for the filth of Dodge.
But it was back to the stagnant cesspool of crime, Dodge City for the Marshall. It's funny to him because the town is so hated, it spawned a common phrase 'get the fuck out of Dodge'. It is usually common for the town's criminals not to follow their victims out of the city limit, simply because they are too drunk focus on running after passers by.
Word's going around though, ponies think that there is a new class of criminal in town. A shadowy gang of bandits that hide in plain sight. Normal ponies would pay no mind to them because they fit in, but in reality they are the most dangerous outlaws in the west. Not much is known about criminal acts until they are committed, making the Marshall's job even harder.
Marshall Night kept pondering about how to expose such an organization on his walk back to Dodge City.
******
"Howdy Marsh... Lookie what we got here! Is that realy her!?"
"Yep that's right Slim, it's her. Lady Pearl." The Marshall responded to his deputy. "I'm looking to cash in on her bounty tomorrow. By the way, there will be a cut for you."
"Thanks Marsh! Say, she's missing quite a part of her head." He pointed out, while staring at the corpse.
"I caught her holding up what would have been her fifty fifth coach." The Marshall said while unloading the body into a vacant jail cell. "Things were heated from the beginning, she had a piece shoved in a mare's face, threatening to shoot her."
"Why are you putting her in here?" He asked with a disgusted face.
"Because, as soon as word gets out about her body being here, ponies are going to try and steal the body. It's only for a day. You know tomorrow is the visit from the army, we will be able to get our reward then."
Marshall exited the cell, slamming it shut.
"No Marsh, I don't think you understand... That will take at least a day for me to clean up!" Slim said, pleading the Marshall.
"Yeah. That's why you're getting a cut."
Deputy Slim sighed in defeat, grumbling about his future dutes. He didn't have as exciting of a job as the Marshall, but he was paid fair, and well fed for it.
"Slim has there been any trouble at Penny's Saloon today?"
"A couple of gunshots... But other than that just nothin."
"Hmm..." The Marshall said, scratching his chin. "It's never that quiet. That makes me think that they are up to something."
"You and I both, Marsh." The Deputy commented, adding his similar opinion into the conversation.
The Marshall sat behind his desk and pulled out the drawer containing his ammo. He picked up a single round and held it up to his eyes for inspection. The bullet hat no defects, nor snags, so it should prove useful. His hoof took the round and slid it into the empty slot on his belt.
The way he did business, he had to make every shot count. Two six-shot pistols on his hips, and a belt of fifty two rounds. Twenty six shots for each pistol. Deputy Slim had the same amount on him as well, because if they ever were in a shootout, the last thing they want to do is run out of ammo. They both wore long dusters to conceal the weapons they carried, so that the challenging outlaw would be more likely to underestimate them. The Marshall preferred a black duster and hat, while Slim wore brown and a white hat.
No matter what they wore, the pair stuck out in a crowd. Everypony knew who they were. Some called them fools, others heroes, but everypony knew who they were. And they liked it that way.
"Slim, grab your gun." The Marshall demanded.
"Yeah, why?" He said, pulling a gun from his holster.
"We're going to the saloon."
"Aww damn, Marsh! Do we have to?" Slim pouted.
"Come on, can't be worse than what happened last week."
"Fine, but I want a bigger cut of Pearl." He tried to bargain.
"There's an extra hundred bucks if you stop complaining."
"You got me there..." Slim said, standing up from the chair he was sitting in.
"Good. Bring the street howitzer while you're at it."
The deputy went over to the gun rack and grabbed a sawed off double-barrel shotgun, and locked the case back. He tucked it into his duster pocket, on the inside of his coat. The Marshall walked outside and observed the main street of the town. Dodge was ripe with ponies just walking about, minding their own business. Known outlaws were roaming the streets among them, but without evidence... he couldn't arrest them. Frustrating, yes, but it was the way the law kept it fair for everypony.
"I'm ready." Slim told the Marshall, joining him outside.
"Let's paint the town red."
