"You need to cut your hair."

"You need to go fuck yourself."

"I've told you a million goddamn times. Long hair doesn't work on the road. Especially not when it starts out long and gets longer. Only reason I let mine get long is because I don't do shit anymore. Except try to turn you into a decent gunman."

"Not a man. And you know I'm better than decent."

Dan Bogan paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he looked out at the setting sun from his chair on the porch. Kate was leaning against the wall near him with her thumbs tucked in her belt. Her father's voice wheezed beside her.

"You're right, girl. You're better than decent. Not as good as me in my prime, maybe. But I have to admit you're one of the best I've seen. I guess I must be a good teacher."

"Yep. All you, old man..."

She paused for a moment before continuing.

"... the doctor came by again today, right? What'd he say this time about how long you've got before you kick the bucket?"

His voice wheezed again.

"Oh... about five minutes."

Kate stiffened against the wall and turned to look at her father.

"... I don't think that's how doctors work, old man. Not usually that specific."

Dan Bogan didn't say anything. He stood up, slightly shaky, and slowly pulled his revolver from his holster. Wordlessly, he gestured to his daughter and she handed over her pistol. He looked at both guns, weighing them in his hands. After a moment, he handed his own revolver to Kate and stuck her pistol in his holster before he starting walking out to the road in front of the ranch house. Kate trailed behind him with a confused look on her face, holding her father's gun.

"Put it in the holster, girl. Good. Now here's the truth. I've only got a few months left- and way before that I'll be stuck in bed like an old woman. That's not how I go out. Dan Bogan doesn't die in bed; he's going to die with his gun in his hand. And it's going to be now. I've lived my life and left a wake of murders and destruction behind me, and what am I leaving behind? Just you. I'm not particularly good at being a father, but I've taught you everything you need to keep yourself alive, and I've made you as tough as I can- and this is your final lesson. In a minute, I'm going to draw. Even with your skills, if I were twenty years younger you'd have no chance. If I was five years younger we might be even. But now? Now you'll almost certainly be able to beat me- if you don't flinch. Because if you freeze, I'm not stopping. I'll take you down, then off myself."

Kate just stared.

"This is how you win, girl. Trust your hands. And never flinch. When you're done, that gun will be yours. I've got nothing else to give you."

Kate opened her mouth as if to say something. But what was there to say? I love you? She didn't. Thank you? Closer, but... he didn't need to hear anything. She nodded at her father and let her hands hang loose by her side, a mirror image of him. Maybe that's what he really wanted.

The silence floated through the air with the last ray's of sunlight, as the sounds of the day began to fade around them. She heard her father yell, louder than she'd heard him in years.

"DRAW!"

And... she moved. She moved the way she had a thousand times a week, listening to her father curse at her to get better. When she'd taken her first shot at the age of fifteen, she'd aimed her revolver like it was a piece of artillery. Now she didn't aim with her hands, but with her mind's eye. Her hands, her eye, and her mind all worked in concert- each instrument well honed to a pitch of symphonic intensity. She did not flinch.

As the shots rang out- three in quick succession, she saw the holes appear in her father's chest at the same time the smile appeared on his face. Later, she realized it was the only real smile of her father's she'd even seen.

He looked at her as he fell forward, and as the sound of the gunshots faded the air was once again filled with the light of the slowly dying day.

***

It'd been her first kill. Maybe he'd wanted it that way. His last act was to make her a killer, like him. The final corruption. Did it undo all those sunny days spent reading and singing with her mother?

Or, perhaps, in his own, twisted way, he was truly trying to help her.

Kate was so deep in thought that she didn't realize she'd walked straight into a rough area of the city. She was startled from her reflection by a shout behind her.

"Hands up, bitch! Your money, your life... or maybe somethin' else, eh? Two out of three, maybe?"

She felt a hand slap her ass as she followed directions to turn around. As she slowly spun left, her right hand started to drop. Kate moved her left hand to the top buttons of her shirt as she spoke softly to the young, dirty man holding a gun.

"See something you like, honey?"

Her left hand expertly popped her top button- and as he moved his gun slightly down and to the right, she made her move. Her right hand moved like water, drawing her gun, playing the steady pulsing rhythm of the hammer and trigger, and putting two quick shots into her would be assailant before he could move.

Angry with herself, she kicked his gun into the street. Stupid. A real pro would have had her there, and she was lucky this guy was untrained. She silently promised herself that it was time to forget the past. She had a new life here in Detroit, and it was time to focus on her new colleagues and her new life. She started walking again- this time with more purpose.