A: The sun was hot out there on the desert. It felt as if the sand was boiling beneath everyone's boots, and it was just all around unpleasant if you were anywhere within reach of the sun's piercing rays. One particular cowgirl exited the local saloon, surveying her surroundings with eyes a shade of green the desert only saw in her gaze. She squinted and adjusted the tilt of her cowboy hat, shuffling her boots on the wooden "porch" of the saloon as she did so. With a lazy yawn, she stepped off into the dirt road through town and sauntered off.
It was the hottest part of the day, so everyone was inside or cooling off in the shade. The road through town was deserted, leaving her in peace as she neared the sheriff's place and the jailhouse. Out in front of the jailhouse, a slew of posters were pasted to the door and on the wall around it. They all had the same face sneering out at the road underneath the block letters that spelled out: WANTED. Underneath the picture was the name "Brianna," and when the cowgirl looked closer at the picture, it was her own face staring back at her. Below her name the poster announced that the sheriff would pay $500 for her capture, "dead or alive."
Brianna stifled a snort of laughter and shook her head, not bothering to read the charges. She already knew. Nearing her pinto, Polka, Brianna swung herself into the saddle just as a blacksmith came out onto the road to look out for the Pony Express. Though he saw no Pony Express, he did see Brianna. His eyes widened to their fullest extent and he ran towards town square where he disappeared. Brianna watched all of this with a lazy sort of disinterest until she heard the bell ringing in the clock tower and a voice yelling, "It's Brianna! She's here! Someone, get the sheriff!"
With that, Brianna spurred her pinto into action, taking to the edge of town at a gallop and pointing her nose towards the open desert. Only when they reached the edge of town did Brianna glance back towards the jailhouse. The sheriff himself had saddled up for the pursuit, directed by the blacksmith's yelling.
"Damn that yellow meddler..." Brianna muttered under her breath, willing Polka to go faster. She had a good headstart, but the sheriff's horse was world renowned for its speed. If she had only thought to take that horse instead of her own...Polka snorted disdainfully as if the pinto had heard Brianna's thoughts and was offended by the mere possibility of being left behind at town. Polka and Brianna skirted cactus and various other desert plants and rock formations, while the sheriff closed the distance between himself and his quarry.
"Give it up, Brianna! It'll be easier for both of us if you come quietly!" the sheriff yelled once they were withing yelling distance of each other.
"You'll have to catch me first, Sheriff!" was Brianna's clever response. Just behind her, she could hear the click of the sheriff's gun as he flicked off the safety. "Now now, there's no need for violence!"
Brianna scowled and slowed Polka to a trot, furtively drawing her own gun. The sheriff drew up next to her, but it was Brianna who moved first. She leapt (Google Chrome, you need to stop telling me this isn't a word...) from Polka's back onto the sheriff's stallion, holding her gun to his throat.
"How about that, Sheriff? Don't make any sudden moves or my finger might slip..."
"You sure gave me a good chase," the sheriff commented, a good deal calmer than one might assume someone with a gun pressed against bare skin would be.
"I did, didn't I," Brianna commented, grinning and letting her gun hand relax. She holstered her gun. "Buy me a drink this time?"
The sheriff laughed, and they rode back to town with Polka in tow. They passed by the jailhouse where WANTED posters proclaimed that Brianna, a single female conartist was wanted for marriage to the sheriff, if only she would stop running.
"I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I'm wanted dead or alive."- Bon Jovi
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