Rally slipped on the earmuffs with a sigh of satisfaction…it had been too damn long. With business at the shop picking up, and the bounty hunting business being too good for the welfare of the general public, she hadn’t had a chance to do much but work. Now that the summer was here, everyone, even the criminals, were holing up for some rest and relaxation. And so was she. Today May was watching the shop and Rally was ready to play. Rally patted her CZ75 happily, released the safety and brought the gun to bear. She could see another person shooting to her right, but didn’t care enough to look at them carefully. Firing off a few test rounds, she slammed through the rest of a clip, reloaded, fired off another magazine, then a third. She stopped, breathing a little heavily, feeling the blood run hot through her body. Rally found her lip curling - she knew what May would say if she were here. Yeah, well, so? So she got off on shooting. Was that a crime? It wasn’t like she went around finding people to shoot, like some of the sickos she pulled in. She checked the gun again - reloaded, aimed…and sneezed. The shock of the sneeze jogged her arm and the earmuffs slipped. Before she could readjust them, she heard the person next to her fire off a few rounds. Staring, her eyes wide, Rally backed away from the wall and leaned a little to her right. There was no way she could be hearing what she thought she heard… Two more steps back and her line of vision cleared the separating wall. Rally could see a tall woman, a few inches taller than herself, her body held steady but not rigidly. Three more shots and Rally knew that she hadn’t been wrong. The sound, the shape - that woman was holding a SIG P-210-4! No way! Even if she had gotten hold of a model… Turning abruptly, the woman rounded on Rally, scowling. "Can I help you or somethin’?" The gun was down, her finger off the trigger, but the way she moved, the comfort she showed with that gun - this woman was a professional. Rally grinned a bit, trying not to show her embarrassment. "Um, sorry to bother you," she said. "That’s a P-210-4, isn’t it? I heard you fire it and I knew it had to be…" Her voice tapered off, as the woman relaxed. Pulling her own earmuffs back, the woman grinned and looked at her gun with fondness. "Yeah. It is." She jettisoned the empty clip and reloaded casually as she spoke. "Ain’t she a beauty?" Her voice was soft, with a slight drawl - not a local girl, Rally thought. Nodding, Rally agreed. "I use a P-210 sometimes, instead of this lovely thing here," she held up the CZ75 and gave it an affectionate pat, "but I’ve never had a chance to use a P-210-4." The woman shrugged. "Not many of them around, really. My Daddy," the drawl thickened for a moment, "brought this one home from Germany as a souvenir." "Helluva souvenir." Rally said. "You bet darlin’." The woman nodded towards Rally’s own gun. "That’s not something you see everyday, either. That’s not the mass produced version, is it?" Rally shrugged, as the other woman had, and they locked eyes. Their laughter echoed in the range. "Look," the woman said after a moment, "I’ve never had a chance to handle the original CZ75 - how ‘bout you and me switch for a few rounds? I’ll pay for the ammo, if you want." Rally thought it over. "Well, how about we split the ammo, but you can buy me coffee afterwards." "Deal." The woman reached out with an empty right hand. "I’m Terry Simms. My friends call me Cowboy." "Rally Vincent." They shook hands. Rally set walked over to the low wall, set down her gun and pulled out a new magazine. Laying that next to the CZ75, she watched Cowboy do the same with the SIG. They exchanged guns, and smiling, each turned toward the targets once again. Rally watched Cowboy load and fire. She wasn’t just pretty good, she was incredible. Rally hadn’t ever seen anyone get the feel of a new gun so fast. It was like she’d been using it her whole life. Not to be outdone, Rally stepped into her own range and hefted the SIG. This was a special piece - if she could get her hands on one of these, she might even consider using the CZ75 as a backup. Might. Rally fired off a clip and took a look at her handiwork. Not too bad…she looked up and found Cowboy watching her from behind, her arms crossed over her chest. "I’m impressed. Most people have trouble getting the range of that baby." Rally shrugged, dropped the empty magazine into her hand, checked the chamber and handed it back to her new friend…noting that she checked the chamber again, before holstering the gun. "Like I said, I’m used to the P-210." Rally also noticed that Cowboy had handed her back the CZ75 cocked and locked. A professional, indeed. "Yeah so you said. And that interests me." Cowboy pushed herself up from the wall and waved Rally towards her. "Well, you said coffee - coffee it is. Know anywhere to get some good stuff? I hate the shit you guys drink around here. All brand names and no flavor." "As a matter of fact, I do. It’s right down the street - we can walk." *** Two women sat at the table laughing loudly. The proprietor of the place was glad about that. Maybe two pretty young things like that might draw in some business. He had made sure they were seated by the window. It was hard to sell coffee on days like today - too damn hot. He mopped the sweat from his face and sucked down some of the iced coffee he had made for himself. "No kidding? That’s why they call you Cowboy?" Rally hooted in joy. "I can just see that!" The two women sat back, allowing mirth to overtake good manners. Cowboy wiped her eyes dramatically and leaned forward, slapping the table. "I gotta tell ya, Rally Vincent - this has been the most fun I’ve had in a month of Sundays. I was beginning to think the people around here were plain unfriendly." Rally leaned her chin on her hands. "Yeah, sometimes I think that too, but they’re not, really. Just wrapped up in their own lives, you know? I’ve made some good friends here." Cowboy nodded sagely, "Yeah, I guess it’s the same wherever you go - same people, same shit." "Yep," Rally sighed. A moment passed and she sat up and stretched. "Man that was depressing!" She grinned at the woman across the table. "We don’t know each other well enough to be that much of a downer." Checking her watch, Rally reached across for her purse, but Cowboy stopped her. "I said I’d spring for the coffee." Rally nodded and stood. "Well, it’s been a real pleasure, Cowboy. If you get a chance sometime, stop by the shop. Gunsmith Cats - it’s in the book." Waving one hand, Rally stepped away from the table, only to whirl back around at the sound of screeching tires. A black Trans Am came shrieking down the road, slowing only slightly as it passed the coffee shop. Through the blacked out windows, Rally caught a glint of something metal and shouted "Get down!" She dove under the table as the window exploded inwards in a million glittering shards. The tires screamed again and the Trans Am roared off, as Rally took to her heels. "Sonofabitch!" Rally shouted. "I don’t know who sent you, but I’ll take you down!" Cocking her wrist, she grabbed a hold of the Duo she kept in the spring-loaded holster, but the car took a corner at sixty and disappeared from sight. Rally ground her teeth. She turned towards the shooting range parking lot and began to sprint for the Cobra. A hand on her wrist tugging her back, spun her around. Cowboy stood there, shouting over the sirens that were quickly approaching. "C’mon!" "My car!" Rally tried to free her arm, but Cowboy pulled her in opposite direction. "No time for that. You want to stop ‘em?" Cowboy broke into a jog and Rally had to run to keep from stumbling. A few yards away Cowboy let go of Rally’s arm, stopping in front of a large, red motorcycle. The tall woman smiled - it was more like a smirk, Rally thought. "C’mon, time’s a-wasting…" and she tossed Rally a helmet. Rally slammed it onto her head - it was a little too tight - and threw her leg over the bike. It was one wide mammy-jammy; Rally wondered whether it would be fast. The next thing she thought was "Yeeeehhhaaaa!" as Cowboy hit the road doing sixty. Rally grabbed onto Cowboy’s shirt and clung for dear life as they cornered awfully low, then came up. They hit the highway at 100 mph, and within a few seconds, Rally could just make out the Trans Am ahead of them. A noise crackled in her ear. "Can you hear me?" Cowboy’s voice was broken with static, but audible. "Sure can!" Rally responded. "Can you catch them?" "Sure can!" Cowboy echoed. "You know anything about bikes?" "Not much." "Hon, what you’re riding right now is a Ducati M900 Monster. I can catch this little pissant, run rings around him at 120, and hog-tie him before he notices me." Rally nodded, gripping the tall woman tightly as they edged up to 120, then 130. The Trans Am did spot them, however, and it sped up, weaving in and out of traffic. "Yessir - that’s exactly what I want you to do…come to mama…" Cowboy’s voice was low in Rally’s ear and she shivered. Their speed climbed. "Hey Cowboy. How fast can this thing go?" She heard Cowboy chuckle. "How fast you want to go, darlin’?" Rally felt something inside her build. "As fast as I can," she said and shouted with joy as they edged up past 150. Rally had the sensation that they were surfing. Time had stopped and the highway was one big wave. The rush of air was nothing like she had ever felt before. Speed in her Cobra was like the best sex possible, but this…this was even better. She could feel the throb of the engines between her legs; the wind pulled at her, asking her to fly with it. She could hear her heart pounding and the whine of a finely built machine gripping the pavement below. Cowboy was tall in the saddle in front of her and Rally had the oddest sensation - she had no idea what it was, but was something close to euphoria, she was sure. Cowboy’s voice intruded on her thoughts. "You still got that little pop gun you had back there?" Rally made an affirmative noise. "Good - I’m going to pull up, then we’re blowin’. You think you can take out the driver before he kills us?" Rally laughed. "Try me." It was amazing - like skating on ice. The Ducati sidled up to the Trans Am as if it were standing still. Rally could see the window lowering, and she timed her shot - she had to get it off before the shooter had a chance to take him aim. There it was - the driver turned to look at her. With precision, Rally put a few slugs intro his arm and then had to throw herself into Cowboy in order not to be ripped off the back of the bike. Behind them, the Trans Am slid off the road. She couldn’t hear the crash - but she could imagine it. "200, darlin’." Cowboy said quietly in her ear. "That fast enough for you?" Rally grinned and shifted her grip. "You bet! Ride ‘em Cowboy!" *** Some time later, a red Ducati pulled off the highway and made its way sedately to a police station. Rally got off the back, willing her legs to regain circulation. A little shakily, she shook hands with Cowboy Simms and waved as she rode off. It was only after she had reached the floor where Roy worked, that she wondered how the hell Cowboy had known where it was that the Trans Am had gone.
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