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PULL THAT TRIGGER, DINOBOY

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"Y'know, I'm mighty obliged for your thoughtfulness, spitfire. Sure, I'd have preferred somethin' warm, but this ain't so bad either. I'm plumb touched! That Jeremy fella swindled me good last time, and I ain't forgettin'. Can't leave this town till I get my hands on him." Tanner Graves drawled. His grin, wicked as a raptor. Fixating on the Shaw Estate, he looked downright itchy with impulse, as if he'd sooner punch a man than tip his hat.

Gabrielle turned to see the dino hunter seated lazy atop his mare. "You're welcome. But I didn't bring you here just for you to spit at him."

"Gun'em! That's the spirit!"

"No! I mean- Well, I'd like to as well, but no." Gabrielle sighed. "Jeremy isn't as good as I made him up to be, and now Randall has to attend this business dinner. We musn't cause a scene while we investigate."

"No worries. I'm just gonna follow in ol' Jeremy's footsteps, is all. Help myself to a fancy bottle from his private stash, or borrow a trinket that's caught my eye. Nothin' he won't miss."

"By all means, do as you feel you must. But no shooting, stabbing or general mayhem, if it can be helped. Now, while you do that, I should be heading back to the sanctuary." She clicked her tongue and nudged her Gallimimus to round back.

Tanner chuckled low in his throat as he reached over to snatch the reins of Gabrielle's Gallimimus. "Now hold on. This here's supposed to be an adventure, ain't it? No self-respecting adventurer would let their best gal sit out all the fun."

And to Tanner's delight, Gabrielle couldn't help the bubbly smile that teased at her lips. "Are you suggesting I assist in your scheming? I shudder to think of the sort of mischief you've dreamed up, given our last misadventure."

"We did have fun back at the jail house, y'know. I just need a set of extra hands, is all. And maybe that brain of yours can dream up a distraction or two, hm?"

"At least here, there won't be any stablehands to 'distract'."

The dainty lady clicked her tongue, prodding her Gallimimus into stroll through the foliage. Her form wrapped in what Tanner liked to see in a kindred spirit—free in riding breeches instead of an over-designed gown. Right on her tail, Tanner followed close behind, a coiled spring of restless energy barely contained within his taut frame.

The Shaw estate rose in the distance, a grandeur that seemed almost excessive in the fading light. The manor, a looming silhouette behind ornate gates, carried an air of aristocratic dignity that clashed amusingly with Tanner's devil-may-care grin. He later assisted Gabrielle from her mount. Then, like shadows against the golden hues of sunset, they stalked towards the looming manor, cloaked in the beauty of the approaching night.

Tanner's roving eyes ambled from the weathered fence to Gabrielle's form. His feigned fascination exaggerated the delicacy of her silhouette. Another tease wouldn't hurt now, would it?

"Looks like it's climbin' time. Ladies first, I'd say." He swept an elaborate bow.

"Your eyes had best remain above the neckline, or I'll have them gouged out." Gabrielle gave an indelicate snort and nimbly caught hold of the fence bars, hoisting herself up with ease born of a lifetime spent likely defying Randall.

As she climbed and swung a leg over, Tanner had his chin craned up with a grin splitting his features. "Yeah, above neckline alright. Don't be in too much of a rush. Give ol' Tanner a minute to admire the view!"

Gabrielle shot him a glaring blush and kicked the air, clearly meaning to kick his hat off or his face if not for how high she was on the fence already. "Keep your eyes to yourself!"

With another chuckle, Tanner clumsily ascended the metallic structure, his limbs unfolding in a display of less-than-graceful athleticism. Propping himself up, he shot Gabrielle a cheeky wink that carried a hint of mischief and a touch of the rogue.

Gabrielle metely rolled her eyes, clearly struggling to suppress an amused smile and an exasperated frown, and cuffed the man neatly upside the head. She wordlessly descended into the estate afterwards, leaving Tanner to follow suit, his movements a blend of nonchalance and rogue finesse.

Skulking through the darkened corridors, Tanner and Gabrielle surveyed the interior of the manor, a veritable jungle of Shaw's peculiar predilections. The walls were adorned with taxidermied monstrosities, a carnival of menacing snarls and ferocious poses frozen in time. Even Randall's grand abode seemed a tame affair compared to this eccentric flaunting of the macabre.

"Gotta hand it to the fella, he sure does love his dead dinos," Tanner muttered, pausing to examine a raptor mid-pounce.

His eyes gleamed with a devilish delight, like a child eyeing forbidden sweets. Amidst a displayed arsenal of weapons that could arm a small militia, he gravitated towards an ornate pistol with a flourish that suggested he was choosing a fine wine. Before Gabrielle could muster a protest, the weapon found a new home in his belt.

"Must you pilfer so shamelessly?"

"What? You said I could. Gotta mark my territory while I'm at it. Besides, it's as shiny as a new penny!"

A ruckus from overhead sent them pressing into the dimness, and the clomp of boots reverberated down the stairs, marching towards them. Tanner's fingers flirted with his shiny new pistol, a touch more nervous than he'd let on, while Gabrielle's eyes flitted like startled birds seeking an exit. Pure reflex took over as he snagged Gabrielle's wrist, whisking her to cover inside a monstrous antique wardrobe, shoving aside the displays and unhinging shelves to make space to hide in.

Gabrielle stifled a yelp as Tanner shoved her inside and closed the doors. The sudden transition from the crisp evening air to the musty interior mirrored the abruptness of a jack-in-the-box, leaving them in a cocoon of stifling darkness.

Gabrielle's perturbed whisper cut through the black. "A furniture compartment, truly? Have you no sense of originality?"

Tanner snorted softly. "What, like this is a common thing? Now hush, before our luck runs out entirely."

He could practically feel her eyes rolling in the close confines. Only slivers of lamplight spilled between the wood slats, illuminating her profile.

A new presence entered the room, heavy footfalls echoing ominously close by. Muffled male voices filtered into their hiding place as two sets of boots crossed the room.

"I have told you before, Shaw, I've no intention of militarising dinosaurs anymore," came Randall's stern tenor, distinctly peeved. "Ceratopsians and hadrosaurs are suitable for cavalry at a push, and that alone is detrimental. I accepted the invitation under the assumptions that we would discuss better ways. This is preposterous and deceiving."

"I assure you that your absence is quite important to myself and my esteemed colleagues. We have secured the support of numerous breeders across the Southern states, all eager to capitalise on their surplus livestock. You are the only one who refused to participate. The opportunities that lie ahead are immense, and their successful realisation is contingent upon your involvement and that of Ms. Hopewell."

"I've no desire to create live-powered weapons. My stock is for help, transportation and labour, not death machines."

"A little too late to keep pretending to be one of the good and the right. But you know, it'd be unfortunate if word of your past indiscretions reached the wrong ears."

Randall's reply was stiff with barely contained anger. "I have no idea what you are implying. My operations have always been legal and above board."

A humourless chuckle. "We both know that's not entirely true. After all, it was your... private exhibitions that first piqued my interest in the profitable applications of dinosaurs. I'd hate for old scandals to resurface and damage that sterling reputation."

"Is this why you've invited me, to threaten my name for co-operation?"

"If bribe and good givings couldn't twist your hand, yes."

The doors swung wide, revealing a chap who seemed to have wrestled with a tornado and lost. A proper hobgoblin, Tanner thought, taking in the tattered ensemble that practically screamed "dino trapper." The man might have been in a dust-up with a Compy for all Tanner knew, but one thing was sure—he had the look of someone who had seen more tail feathers than common sense.

"Jer! Got them dinos you wanted, loaded up and ready for transport. Loads herbivores, chained fresh from Thompson's sanctuary and headin' for the railroad!"

Randall whirled with a snarl. "What is this, Shaw?"

"Resource allocation, my friend. It is simply unacceptable to allow valuable assets to be wasted in some fantasy preserve. Rest assured, I'm only reclaiming those that hold practical utility." Shaw paused, tilting his chin to the side by a margin to address the old man. "Excellent work, Josiah. You will earn your pay once we get those assets transported."

Randall launched himself at the man, grabbing his collar. "Those dinosaurs are under my protection! My name! You have no right-"

Shaw fished out a revolver from underneath his coat and levelled it calmly. "With this, I do."

That was all the excuse needed for the one and only wrangler of the far west to allow a little itch on the finger. To think he was gonna risk his hide for some English, Randall of all people. The notion alone was enough to make ol' Tanner snort in disbelief. Well, there was a first time for everything, and Tanner couldn't help but feel a chuckle bubbling up as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his gun.

The gates swung wide under Tanner's sturdy shove. And here he was, pistols drawn and grin wide enough to swallow the sky. "I think it's high time you left the man alone, Shaw."

The study crackled with tension, a gunpowder-laden air thicker than the Texas heat. Tanner found himself in a standoff, his stolen ornate pistol blazing defiance at Josiah and Shaw's iron resolve. The scene, lacking only a tumbleweed for perfection, unfolded like a farce in the dimly lit room, where the only heat matching the sun was the smouldering resentment in their eyes.

As absurd as the situation was, Shaw merely arched a brow at the dino hunter's presence. "Pardon, who are you?"

"Are you kiddin' me? Deino eggs, Buffalo, ring any bells? For God's sakes, man. Tanner Graves!"

"Ah, the shoddy dino hunter."

"Shoddy?! Call me however ya like, but I do my best! Now, how's about you put those pea shooters down before someone loses an eye?"

Old Josiah spat. "Pull that trigger, dinoboy, and you're a dead man."

"Not unless your own lungs collapse on you first, old geezer."

"Why, I oughta shoot you right now!"

From the wardrobe came an unladylike scolding. "Please, don't shoot! Put those things away before someone gets perforated!"

Randall rounded on her, surprised at first, furious the second. "Gabrielle? What in God's name are you doing here?!"

Tanner wasn't really one for diplomacy when it came to standoffs like this, but he quickly realised he wasn't just one man alone. With Gabrielle and Randall around, he couldn't just shoot first, talk later like he typically would. There was an inkling of fear of them getting caught in the crossfire.

With a chuckle veiling all nervousness, he let out, "I see we're at odds first, what, guns drawn and all. Reckon we can be civil for a bit, so let's all just take a breather-"

A thunderous boom reverberated, cutting through the air like a cracked whip. A hush settled, broken only by a gasp—perhaps of surprise, maybe pain. Tanner's rugged face, initially painted with the glee of a man who dodged fate once again, morphed into a wince, mirroring the blossoming red stain on his side in crimson irony.

"Oops." Said Old Josiah, lowering his smoking pistol. "Finger slipped."

White-hot agony seared through his torso as he stumbled for cushioned cover. He was in shock to say the least, but years of rugged determination kicked in. Taking aim at Old Josiah, he shouted, "Gabrielle, don't come to me! Hide behind something!"

The shot rang out and found its mark in the old man's arm. Josiah grunted and clutched his limb, firing wildly in return. Tanner felt a stab in his leg but had no time to consider it.

From the corner of his watering eyes, he saw Gabrielle dove behind the heavy oak table just in time, yanking Randall with her. Good gal, able to look out for herself.

Shaw rounded on Old Josiah, dragging him out of the study with fury etched on his face. "You idiot! Shooting in my own home!"

"It was an accident!" Old Josiah staggered his feet sheepishly as he groaned, then casted a clearly fake apologetic glance at the wounded Tanner. "No hard feelings, eh mate?"

Tanner cackled in agony. "Some accident! Reckon you done me a favour—by joining my list of people I'm gonna murder! Ya better start makin' a habit of lookin' over your shoulder!"

Through the madness, Shaw shouted from behind the doorway, apparently sparing the time to be a little more dramatic. "Consider this a warning, Thompson! Our arrangement is far from over. I expect the complete delivery of another batch delivered within the month, as compensation for your associates' interference and agreement to this new enterprise. I don't care how you will procure them. Fail, and it won't just be your reputation you're losing!"

Tanner observed with a smirk as Randall's steely gaze followed their exit, a glare sharp enough to slice through dinosaur hide. As Shaw made his exit, the room exhaled its pent-up strain. Whether they were gone or not, Tanner seized the opportunity and sprawled on the floor with a groan, much to Gabrielle's evident dismay.

She scurried over and prodded at the wound clinically, all decorum lost in the moment. "Flesh wound only, thank goodness! Just your thigh and—hopefully—none of your organs." She set about binding his wound with ruthless efficiency under fussing form. Her nimble fingers worked swiftly to staunch the blood flow.

Randall paced agitatedly, running hands through his hair, his words on rapid fire. "This is an unmitigated disaster. First, that scoundrel threatens me, then pilfers my stock right under my nose! And now, one of you—a very embodiment of misguided recklessness—has the foolishness to get shot and engage in a gunfight within the confines of a hideous study room!"

Tanner cracked open one eye with a roguish grin. "It'll take more'n a bullet to stop ol' Tanner. Reckon a nap's in order while the little lady patches me up."

He rounded on the roguish duo. "Don't you dare sleep! This is an outrage! A debacle! And you two! Brazen knaves conspiring to exacerbate the situation at every turn! What were you both even doing here- Why did you emerge from a wardrobe of all places?!"

"Christ alive, I took a couple bullets and you're complainin' about our hidin' spot? Try not to burst a blood vessel, we'll sort things out. Jeremy's left us alone—man must be in a rush to get those dinos on the train track. We'll chase after 'em later."

"Oh, certainly, and end up getting shot again. Now, on your feet." Gabrielle said sternly as she finished bandaging Tanner's wound.

She and Randall each threw one of Tanner's arms over their shoulders, hoisting him up with twin grunts.

Tanner flashed them a cheeky grin through the pain. "Why, Randall, darling, if I didn't know better, I'd think you cared!"

"Did a brush with death suddenly make you giddy with appreciation?" Randall rolled his eyes as he struggled manfully under the hunter's bulk. "Heavens, man. Have you been eating only stones? Do try to move your feet."

Together, they half-carried, half-dragged Tanner out to the carriage. John, the stalwart driver for tonight, surveyed the spectacle with a visage caught in disbelief.

"I heard a gunshot, suh, and two men making off in a carriage with guns! What fresh mess have ya dragged now?" he grumbled, flinging open the door as they bundled the injured man inside as gingerly as possible.

"Not the time, John! Get on the driver's now!" Randall barked.

Gabrielle clambered in after, taking Tanner's head in her lap. "To the doctor, John, post-haste!" she called to the front.

Rumbling along the uneven roads, Tanner's grip on the carriage's edges tightened with each jolt, his curses a colourful breath as each bump sent fresh agony lancing through Tanner's wounds. Gabrielle's attempts at solace wove through the air, though her hands twisted the fabric of Tanner's shirt in shared anxiety.

At last they drew up before the doctor's home, a lamplit haven amidst the gathering gloom. Randall lugged the injured man inside as Gabrielle hastily explained their predicament.

The doctor, a grizzled veteran with a glare that could rival a bull Triceratops, got straight to business, slicing away Tanner's impromptu bandages. It was messier than it looked, gun powder and fabric deep in the torn flesh. Tanner bared his teeth in a silent snarl, hands white-knuckled on the table edge.

Gabrielle, offering a silent prayer and clinging to Tanner's hand like a lifeline, threw in reassurances softer than a prairie breeze. Randall stood sentinel beside them, a portrait of unyielding composure over a nervous façade.

At long last, the ordeal was over, and Tanner slumped. Even with holes in his own body, he had never been happier in genteel society.