A Western Tail

by Trigger_Finger

First published 24th of March, 2013

While treasure hunting, Daring Do is shot and left for dead by the notorious Black Mane. After recovering she is befriended by a stallion with no name and the duo team up to hunt down the outlaw.

While treasure hunting, Daring Do is shot and left for dead by the notorious outlaw: Black Mane. After being rescued by a stallion law bringer and recovering from her injuries, she decides to team up with the stallion and bring Black Mane to justice, and retrieve her treasure. As the duo cross most of the Equestrian frontier they go through hardships, make new friends and they both eventually find that special something that deep down makes us happy inside no matter what happens.

Not a clopfic (Obviously) but does contain many scenes of sexually explicit nature. Based long before season one and is based around 1912. Told mostly from Daring Do's perspective but sometimes jumps to someone else's perspective just to tell the story better.

I kind of want to find a different cover image but for now that one will do. Open to suggestions.

Edited and proofread by Delitor so big thanks to him.

Chapter 1: You dig

I trotted along through the thick undergrowth of the Everfree forest. The wet grass and moss squelched underneath my boots from the recent rainfall. It had been a stale day and was rather muggy with the humidity the way it was. The trees surrounded me like a jail cell walls and felt as if they were closing in on me. I pulled out the map from my saddle and took another look at it.

I was close. I was certain of it. If only the old withered map was more depictive then simply pointing out that the treasure, marked by a big black X, was somewhere in the Everfree in a more open area close to a gravestone.

I placed the map back in my saddle after having another long look at it then continued to slush through the forest. I could just take to the air but the treetops severely hindered the sight of the inner forest.

As I continued on I wondered if maybe perhaps the map was just an old joke. Something conjured up by a father to play a game of treasure hunt with his young son. I quickly disregarded the thought in knowledge that it had to be real treasure, especially for the price the old stallion at the general store sold the map for.

I wiped the sweat from the back of my neck which had accumulated and now dampened my fur. I hated hot summer days after a rainfall. The rainy weather was cold and damp but now everything had heated up and was muggy and miserable.

I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead then proceeded on through the forest. I knew that this treasure was worth it. Something in my gut just told me it would be the greatest treasure that I would ever find. As I continued on I felt as if some-pony was watching me. I quickly spun around but no one was there, just those menacing trees. They almost looked like they had horrid faces that watched me as I trotted along. I gulped in mild fear then continued on.

As the muggy humidity started to get to me I took out my canteen from the saddle strung across my side. I unscrewed the top and took a large sip. 'Ugh' I groaned. The water was rather warm and distasteful but did help to keep me hydrated somewhat. I screwed the cap back on then placed it back in my saddle and took another look around.

I began to wonder exactly where I was. I didn't have a map of the area and this treasure map was no help. I felt like I had been walking in circles all day. I looked around and it felt like my world began to spin. Everything simply spun in a blur of circles and I began to back pedal but then tripped over my own hooves and fell into a thick thistle bush. "Oww!" I yelped.

I pulled a few thistle needles out of the back of my neck as I stood up and turned around. A large patch of thistle brush stood in front of me and I groaned. I hated thistles. I slipped out my machete and held it in one hoof as I began to hack my way through the brush.

After a minute or so of heavy bushwhacking I came into a rather large clearing. It was surrounded by a thick wall of thistle and was almost barren, save for a small pile of rubble near a gravestone. The treetops blocked almost all of the sunlight from entering the opening, save for a few beams that managed to illuminate the area somewhat.

Inside my mind I was cheering, screaming in absolute success but on the outside I kept myself quiet and professional. Who knew what horrors might lurk about nearby.

I quickly paced over to the gravestone then pulled out my small handy shovel. I slipped off my saddle which contained just about everything I had brought with me. The only thing that wasn’t in the saddle was my Colt SAA .45LC. It had a bright mirror finish look to it and had a 5 ½ inch barrel on it, ideal for shooting rather than concealment or looks. The handle was ivory, a nice touch to it. I would’ve much rather had a wood handle but in the end just figured I’d leave it for the time being.

The revolver rested in a hip holster on my right side in an original holstering rather than a reverse holster generally used on chest holsters when carrying more than one gun. I had the holster and gun covered by the side of my jacket but kept it easily accessible in case I ever needed to use it.

Firearms were a rather common thing though usually discouraged in some places due to their deadly nature. Ideally a unicorn could handle a weapon the easiest, due to their magic, but manufactures have created battle saddles that harness the weapon for a pony and in turn the pony simply has to utilize the mouth piece that will trigger the firearm, but in most cases it is rather encumber some. However some ponies have managed to operate firearms without the use of magic or battle saddles and can simply use them with their hooves. I learned the latter technique from an old mare when I was younger.

I held the shovel in my front hooves and began to dig near the grave. The blade of the shovel pierced the soft squishy ground and I was easily able to start digging. I would toss the loose dirt over my left shoulder and into a pile. My movements were fluid and precise each and every time.

Suddenly I heard the cocking of a revolver and spun around to find myself looking down the barrel of a Smith and Wesson Model 10, probably a .38 caliber. I gulped as I realized who was holding it: Black Mane.

He was a unicorn and stood eye level with me. His fur was jet black and his mane was finely combed with an oily black look that matched his fur. His eyes were an icy blue hue that made me shiver as I looked into them. His body frame was mediocre and he was less than intimidating if one wasn’t to know who he was or didn’t look into his eyes.

His face was spread with a devilish smile. I went to reach for my own revolver but he laughed. “Ah-ah-ahh. I wouldn’t do that.” He told me and I lowered my hoof from my side then placed it back on the wet ground. I didn’t feel the wetness thanks to my boots but I could tell by the squishing sound that the ground made when I set my hoof on it.

“What do you want?” I hissed and he laughed then pointed to where I had been digging. He probably knew what I was doing here and followed me, letting me lead him to the treasure. “No way, it’s mine. I earned it!” I scowled but he simply sighed then levitated over a shovel with his magic.

“There are two types of ponies in Equestria. Those with guns, and those who dig. You dig” he ordered me. I refused to take hold of the shovel. He cocked back the hammer manually on his revolver despite it being double action. I still refused.

He pulled back the trigger and the gunshot sounded like a loud SNAP. Wet dirt was kicked up in front of my hooves and dirtied my face and chest. He cocked back the hammer again to seem menacing, which he was. My heart pounded in my chest and I finally took hold of the shovel.

I contemplated trying to beat him to death with the shovel but he must’ve read my mind. “Oh and remember, I am the one with the gun. If you try anything then I’ll shoot you dead… even if you did manage to kill me then my friends here would blast you into a pulp.” he informed me and that’s when I noticed the other stallions behind him. There were eight of them. Most carried lever action rifles but two differed from the others.

One was dressed in a rather fine attire and holstered twin Schofield revolvers. He was a pegasus with light blonde fur and a matching mane. His eyes were brown but heartwarming, if he wasn’t part of this gang that now held me up.

The other was a zebra. He had a long barreled Remington Rolling Block rifle with a magnifying scope that spanned down the top of the entire barrel.

I stepped back and began to dig in another spot in hopes that if I didn’t find the treasure then perhaps they’d leave. Black Mane read my bluff however and shook his head as he grunted. “I don’t think so. I’m not as stupid as you think.” He scoffed and I gulped as I returned to my old digging spot then continued to dig.

I must’ve been dug for an hour before the shovel finally hit something metal. The shovel thunked against what I could only presume to be the top of a metal chest. Black Mane motioned with his revolver for me to retrieve whatever the object was. I knelt down and quickly shuffled away the loose dirt from around the chest then pulled it out.

The chest was fairly heavy and made me grunt in effort as I pulled it out. I placed in on the ground by my side as I took a deep breath of exhaustion and wiped my sweaty forehead. Dirt and grit smeared across my face and sweat stung my vision slightly.

“Well… let’s have it!” Mane demanded. I kicked the chest and it slid over to his hooves. He looked at the metal chest which had a lock on it. He quickly blasted off the lock with his revolver then opened the chest. I only caught a glance of what was inside but it looked like gold relics and jewelry.

He nodded to himself then closed the chest again. “Well boys, we scored the jackpot this time.” He told the others who snickered to themselves and gave each other nods. Black Mane turned back to me and sighed.

“And as for you missy… sorry to say this but you can’t be living all that much after what just happened. But look on the bright side, at least you dug your own grave.” He laughed then squeezed the trigger on the revolver that he held in his hoof.

What I assumed to be a 38. caliber round punched through my gut and blew out an exit wound bigger than the entry. I gasped and a little bit of blood spat up. It tasted horrid, like a brass substance.

I fell back from the force and pain that now struck my body and collapsed into the hole I had dug. The sound laughter soon faded as they left me for dead. I looked up into the treetops. Light seemed to somehow shine down on me in my dying moments and I let my eyes slowly shut, a last beam of light flickering in my vision. I heard soft hoof steps quickly pace up to me and a heavenly voice started speaking but I couldn’t make out the words. This… this must be my angel coming to fly me away to heaven.

Author's Notes:

Before anyone says anything, the title is a pun on words (Tail, as in their tail, rather then an actual tale). I'm going to enjoy this story. Leave a comment on what you think of the story so far

Chapter 2: An angel

My sleep was undisturbed and I came around peacefully. As my vision returned I found myself resting upon a fine bed with a beautiful blanket atop of me. I went to move then winced in pain as my lower gut seemed to burn.

I let out a small gasp of pain and slowly lifted the blanket off my body. I was in a different attire of clothing than I was wearing when I had been shot. I had silky pants and a fine dress on yet there was no blood on either of these pieces of clothing.

I lifted the dress from the bottom and gazed upon my bare stomach area. Some-pony had wrapped my wound in medical bandage. I could see a stain of blood coming through but it wasn’t fresh, maybe a day old.

I groaned in pain as I lay back down, unable to get up from the searing pain in my gut from where I had been shot. I fluffed the dress and made sure to cover myself again. I may be bed-ridden but a mare must appear decent.

I pulled the blanket off my body, it was rather warm in the room and there was no need for the piece of bedding to cover me. I sighed as I gently rested my right hoof on my wound area and let out a slow breath.

My thoughts soon turned to what was happening. I doubt I was dead so the thought in mind was ‘How am I alive?’ I had heard some-pony talking, so maybe they saved me but then the question was ‘Why? Why would he or she save my life? Out of the goodness of their heart or did they want something from me?’

I pondered the question for what seemed like hours. My thoughts ended up usually going in circles. Eventually I discarded the thoughts and found myself looking at the light brown ceiling. The house, from the looks of things, was made of timber, I think. There was a nice aroma in the air that smelt like roses. The room was lit by an overhanging lamp that managed to give the room a dim lighting.

I once again tried to get up but found myself grimacing in pain and had to lie back down. As I settled, a stronger pain surged through me and I couldn’t help but to cry out in pain.

The door opened and a lone figure stood there. I looked over to see a young stallion standing in the doorway. He was tall, maybe six inches taller than me, and looked to be on the stronger side of things.

His fur was a dark shade of brown yet his hair was a silky blond. His eyes were a medium blue that seemed to shine in the light. He had a bit of stubble around the side of his face and chin. He wore a dark brown duster coat which drooped and flapped about as he slowly paced over to me with a tray of what smelt like tea.

He pulled up a wooden chair beside the bed then set the tray on a nightstand which stood beside the bed. He took the silver teapot and poured a portion of the contents into a small teacup. Steam wisped from the spout of the pot and the cup as he poured then finally stopped and set the pot back down.

Ever so gracefully he picked up the cup in both hooves and offered it to me. I slowly extended my own hooves and accepted the offer, taking the cup into my palms carefully. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there and watched me intently as I gently blew the hot tea to cool it down before slowly taking a sip.

I took the cup away from my lips and gave a faint smile then an appreciative nod. “Mmm… it’s good… thank you.” I whispered softly, so softly that I almost couldn’t hear myself. He simply nodded without saying anything.

I let out a small breath then took another sip of tea, this time savouring the taste. It tasted like camomile or maybe some other sort of herbal green tea. I once again took the teacup away from my lips which were now wet from the beverage.

“Am I dead?” I asked quietly but he shook his head. “How did I… did you… save me?” he nodded. “Don’t talk much huh?” but his reply took me off guard.

“I do talk” he replied. His voice was quiet, with a lower undertone but timid and seemingly shy. Something about his voice put me at ease.

I sat there and sipped tea for the next half hour before finally setting the teacup down on the tray. “Thank you” I whispered again and he nodded, gulped and then picked up the tea tray and left.

As he shut the door I managed to sneak a peek past the doorway. I could see through the window in what looked to be a living room. I noticed that it was dark outside, probably nighttime or very early morning. The room I was in had no windows and its only light source was the lantern.

I soon found myself extremely tired and quickly fell back to sleep.

My dreams were haunted however, by that of Black Mane. The memory of him shooting me played again and again. As the horrid nightmare went on it seemed like things got cold, my body shivered and my teeth chattered. Each time Black Mane would shoot me it would be a blessing. My coldness would be subdued but only for so long before the nightmare would return.

Several times in during my rest I would awake suddenly but only briefly. My body would be drenched in sweat and it would have dampened my fur and become cold. My body was shaking every time and my breath would be raspy and coarse.

I didn’t know which was better: the nightmares or real life.

I finally woke up and managed to stay up for a little longer than I had all the times before, minus the one time that I drank the tea. My body was dry and warm. The blanket had been placed over my body again and helped to keep me warm. It was summer time yet somehow I had managed to become cold.

I unravelled the blanket slightly only to find myself in a different dress. This one differed from the other only in colour. This one was orange in colour but looked almost identical to the last.

I took hold of the dress bottom and pulled up the lower folds. The medical bandages had been changed and these ones no longer had blood stains in them. I pushed the dress folds back down then rested my head against the plush pillow.

I tried to swallow but found that my throat was dry and sticky. I could barely even swallow my own saliva and found it difficult to talk. I grimaced in pain as I forced myself to get up.

I managed to get myself out of bed, though painfully. I needed water so badly. My lips were dry and it felt like they were cracking. My eyes suddenly felt heavy and blood rushed to my head as I began to stumble across the floor and towards the door.

I contemplated lying back down but I needed water. I needed water more than anything I had ever needed before.

I managed to reach the door and by this time my head began to throb. Why was this happening? I had been shot before and never had things turned out like this. My vision started to blur as I opened the door. The hinged creaked in report and I swung open the door rather slowly.

My head swayed back and forth as I staggered into what looked like the living quarters of the home. The stallion whom had given me the tea looked over to me and immediately rushed over to me just as my legs gave out. He caught my limp body in his forelegs and that was the last thing I remembered.

I didn’t know how long I was out for but the next time I awoke, it was peaceful. I felt a soft and graceful hoof trailing through my mane and it would sometimes gently caress the side of my face.

I let out small tired moans as I ever so slowly came around. The first thing I saw was the stallion, the one who had given me the tea and who had also saved my life. My vision finally tuned itself in and everything became crystal clear.

I no longer felt sick, for whatever reason I did, and my body no longer felt dehydrated. He continued to stroke his left hoof through my mane like an attentive parent as he held his right foreleg underneath my body, keeping my upper body somewhat levitated. My head rested on his right shoulder which felt almost as nice as the pillow I had slept on.

My gut no longer felt painful either, at least not for the moment. I tried to think of something to say but couldn’t think of anything. He brought up a small cup of tea that smelt like tea he had given me before. “Drink… it’s good for you” he informed me as he brought the cup to my lips.

He held the cup with perfect steadiness and I drank slowly until the entire cup of tea was gone. As he took the cup away from my mouth I managed to whisper “Thank-you.” Though my body felt better I was still a little disoriented but was still puzzled by the question of why I was so beat up. I had never fallen ill after being shot before.

I looked up into his glistening eyes. “What happened?” I asked but he didn’t answer right away. Instead he continued to cradle me and stroke his hoof through my mane. Generally I wouldn’t let a stallion hold me like this but right now it was kind of soothing, considering everything that just happened.

“You had a bad fever… from those thistles. You should be more careful. Had I not been there then you probably would’ve died” he told me calmly. I gulped. I guess I really wasn’t paying attention but now that I thought about it those thistle plants were Death Thistles. The tips of their thorns were barbed and spiked with toxins. Usually a pony would have a few hours to get treated but I suppose with my heart rate the way it was and with me digging for so long it really cut that time short.

I simply lay there, in his embrace, for the next hour in total silence. Finally he broke the silence. “Tomorrow you will be rested up enough to walk. I’ll get you to Ponyville. It’s a newly formed rural town but you’ll be able to talk to their local doctor, Doctor Heart Hooves.” He told me and I nodded.

“Why… why did you save me?” but the answer I got wasn’t one I was expecting.

“I was following Black Mane. He’s a wanted criminal in these parts and I was going to bring him to justice until he shot you. I could’ve apprehended him but you would’ve died. I made the better choice” he told me. My heart sank. Thanks to me, a notorious criminal was still on the loose.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I whispered, not really piecing my sentence together very well.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. The choice I made was a very easy one.” He replied calmly, not even hinting a slight bit of irritation.

I started to doze off and rolled my head into his neck then passed out. My dreams, thankfully, weren’t haunted or cold. I slept peacefully and my body felt rejuvenated for the first time ever.

I awoke naturally and again proceeded to unravel the blanket and lift my dress. There were no medical bandages but I could see where I had been shot. It would be just another scar I would have to live with. Scars were no stranger to me, I had more scars then I cared to count. Luckily they were mostly in spots that were covered by my clothes and in turn I didn’t look hideous.

I noticed that this was yet another dress and that I now had different pants on. These weren’t silk but a linen fabric of sort. I proceeded to get out of bed. My stomach no longer hurt but my body wasn’t exactly used to moving so I had to take things rather slowly at first.

I slowly made my way to the door and placed my hoof on the handle as I took a deep breath. I opened the door and proceeded into the next room. Everything looked different without the blur from deathly illness inhibiting my vision.

By a dining table sat the stallion who had rescued me. I slowly trotted over to him and sat across from him. I wasn’t sure why but my mind quickly raced to whose dresses these were.

“Who do they belong to? The dresses?” I asked and he sighed.

“Bought them in town after I saved you. Your old clothes were bloody and needed to be washed.” He replied. I looked down to the clothes. Why had he spent money on clothes for me? Couldn’t he have just given me some of his clothes?

“You… dressed me” I replied uneasily, knowing he would’ve had to see my body without clothes to have dressed me like he had.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t look more then I had to. I had to change your clothes, you had a fever and sweat accumulated then quickly became cold. You needed a change of clothes every day.” He informed me. Generally I wouldn’t like a stallion dressing me while I was unconscious but he seemed to know what needed to be done and didn’t strike me as perverse.

“Thank you” I whispered and he nodded. He offered me a cool glass of water which I hastily accepted and downed quickly. I could feel the cool water trickle down my throat which felt better than anything I had ever felt before, due to my lack of water over the last little while. He seemed to be very soft-spoken and didn’t strike me as the one who talked much.

My mind suddenly began to think of who he was. “What’s your name? I’m Daring Do.” I asked, introducing myself at the same time. He nodded but sat in silence for a moment before replying to my question.

“I… I don’t have one. But it’s nice to meet you Ms. Do.” He replied and I snickered.

“Oh come on… you have to have a name.” I said, poking into what his name was but not expecting to get the answer he gave.

“I was an orphan as a foal. I grew up without a name. Every-pony who knows me, knows me as ‘The Lone Ranger’” he informed me. My heart sank. I hadn’t meant to bring up what seemed to be hard memories for him.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bring it up.” I apologized and he simply nodded. I think that meant he forgave me but I wasn’t sure. “Well… do you mind if I call you John? I always liked the name John.” I asked and he shrugged.

He stood up. “Come on. You need to get dressed.” He informed me. Dressed? I already was dressed. I guess he meant get dressed into my old clothes. He led me back to the room, handed me what I guessed were my old clothes and then left me in privacy.

I slipped off all the clothes I currently wore. The air seemed to blow gently against my bare body, sending shivers of sensation across my entire body. Usually it would be natural but after always wearing clothes it felt strange to be bare. I slipped on my old adventuring clothes which no longer smelt foul but rather pleasant.

He had also included my revolver and holster among the pile of clothes which I slipped on as well. It felt good getting back into my old clothes, even if those dresses were comfortable.

I wondered to myself how much he had spent on the dresses. I soon discarded the thought and left the room. He stood by the table, obviously ready to leave. He had two twin revolvers in hip holsters. Both were Colt SAA and were probably 45LC like mine. Slung Across his back was what looked to be a 1878 Colt double barrel 12guage but with a heavier more sturdy barrel look to it. Probably a newer model meant to fire smokeless powder.

He wore the brown duster coat I had seen him wear when he first fed me tea but now also sported a bandolier filled with red shotgun shells and some long rifle cartridges. I caught a peak of the grip from an auto loading pistol hidden behind the chest of the coat but he moved the flaps of his coat over the gun before I could get a better look.

He nodded to me. “Come on, the carriage is waiting.” he told me then led me out of the house.