Work Text:
There was something special about riding at night under a full moon, Cottonmouth thought as his horse kicked up dust on the road to Judith Lake. It wasn't something he actually did very often, as a clear night like tonight could be hard to come by.
However, Cowboy Kim had been cracking down around town lately, and Cottonmouth didn't really feel like starting a ruckus in broad daylight. This time, anyway.
Cottonmouth tugged on the reins as he neared his destination: the town's only general store. He tied up his horse as quietly as he could across the street. Taking an oil lamp out of a sack, the would-be thief lit it with a match and made his way to the rear of the general store.
Cottonmouth was counting on the back door being unlocked and to his delight, it was. He pushed open the door.
Idiot. Bet he still doesn't pack heat either. He's practically begging to get robbed.
Though he wouldn't admit it, Cottonmouth had hesitated on this job – just for a moment. But he owed someone quite a large debt and needed the money as fast as possible. He could always dip into his personal funds, but why do that when he could just as easily steal some cash?
The thrill of it was too good to resist.
Strangely, Cottonmouth still remembered the layout of the store and could have found the register even without his lamp. Setting the lamp down on the counter, he frowned when he realized that the register was locked.
No matter. He pulled a lockpick out of his pants pocket and inched it into the keyhole. It would take longer in the dark, but it wouldn't be impossible.
A noise made Cottonmouth grab his lamp and whip around. He faced the stairs that led upstairs to living quarters to see Mr. Gretel, the general store owner, standing there.
“Perfect,” he sneered as the lamplight cast eerie, dark shadows on his face. Cottonmouth put the lockpick in his pocket and pulled out his pistol, pointing it at the general store owner. “Just the man I was looking for. You think you could help me with this cash register?”
Mr. Gretel raised his hands above his head and slowly descended the stairs. He maintained eye contact with Cottonmouth as he moved his right hand to the breast pocket of his pajamas and pulled out a key. Cottonmouth set down the lamp on the counter and snatched the key from the general store owner.
Still keeping the pistol pointed at Mr. Gretel, Cottonmouth opened the register with the key and started putting cash in his bag. It annoyed him that the shopkeep was so quiet. “You got a safe in the backroom, too, right?” Cottonmouth said, as he finished emptying the register.
“Yes,” Mr. Gretel said. “The key for that is upstairs in my bedroom, I'm afraid. I can go and get it for you, if you want.”
“Fine, go up and get it.” Cottonmouth kept his gun pointed at Gretel as he went up the stairs in the dark and came back down a moment later with the key. Once again he held it out wordlessly to the criminal.
Cottonmouth grabbed the key and narrowed his eyes at Mr. Gretel. “You're not putting up much of a fight,” he observed.
“I'd rather not dignify what you're doing here with a response,” the store owner replied. Cottonmouth had the feeling that even without the threat of his pistol, Mr. Gretel would politely do whatever he asked.
He put the pistol back in its holster and grabbed the other man by his nightshirt. Ah, there it was – the fear reflected in Mr. Gretel's eyes by lamplight. “Listen, Arthur,” Cottonmouth said, gritting his teeth. “I don't know what you're expecting, but I'm not a nice guy.”
He was interrupted by the front door being kicked off its hinges. Cowboy Kim stood in the doorway holding a lamp, the moonlight from outside silhouetting him dramatically.
Cottonmouth released Mr. Gretel, who fell to the floor. “Well, well, well,” Cottonmouth said, taking out his gun again. “If it isn't my favorite cowboy, here to save the day.”
“You've gone far enough,” Kim said.
“That's what you always say,” the thief replied. “Admit it, you'd miss me if I was gone.”
Mr. Gretel, meanwhile, had gotten up and was attempting to run out the front door.
There was a sudden bang and a flash of light in the darkened general store. Cottonmouth had shot off his pistol just as the general store owner was about to rush past Cowboy Kim.
Mr. Gretel crumpled to the ground. The sheriff reached out to help him but heard Cottonmouth say, “Touch him and I'll come over there and finish him off.”
“You wouldn't.”
Cottonmouth held his hands up and shrugged, still holding his pistol. “How do you know I wouldn't? Everyone's putting too much faith in a criminal like me these days.” He put his pistol away and to the surprise of Kim and Gretel, made his way to the back door. “See you around.”
The night was punctuated by the sound of Cottonmouth's horse pounding the dirt ground outside before fading away into nothing.
Cowboy Kim knelt down to the general store owner, who was lying in a growing pool of blood. “Where did he hit you?” he asked.
“Oh, just the leg,” Mr. Gretel said, sitting up and adjusting himself. “I'm sure I'll be fine.”
Kim removed his shirt and began ripping it into strips. “You won't be fine if you bleed out,” he said sternly.
“I'll be okay,” Mr. Gretel repeated. “He just wanted to spook me, that's all. If he wanted to kill me, I'm sure he would have done that before you got here.”
“You must be going into shock,” the sheriff said. He took out a knife and cut at the other man's pants to get at the wound. “I'm sure the whole town's up by now. Once I've stopped the bleeding a little, I'll get the doctor. She'll be able to fix you up more than I can.”
Mr. Gretel was starting to breathe heavy and looked pale in the flickering lamplight and moonlight. “Thank you for your help.”
Cowboy Kim just shook his head.
---
A few days later, Mr. Gretel found an envelope taped to the (locked) back door of his general store. Inside was a note and the key to his backroom safe. “I don't want the rest of your money,” the note read in a rather fanciful script. It was signed Cottonmouth.
At the bottom, he had added “PS, at least you figured out how to lock your damned doors. I guess I'll give you that much.”