[ I'm a goddamn liar. it's not coming in a week. it's coming now. but still idk about how frequent updates will come bc im writing as I rewatch

also, I like wanna cry bc there were surprisingly so many comments on the cast and starting chapter which I didn't expect bc justified isn't like a huge fandom or anything, so thank you so much and I love you when you comment ]

✵︎

I'M NEVER GETTING IN A CAR WITH YOU AGAIN.

[ season 1 — episode 2 ]

BAMBI didn't know what the hell she was doing going to visit her brother in the prison hospital. Her recently shot in the chest brother — maybe she owed Raylan Givens a thank you. She'd have bought him a drink next time she saw him if she were old enough. But she hadn't heard anything of Raylan being back in Harlan since he shot Boyd in her sister-in-law's house just two days ago.

She hadn't had anything to do with Boyd since he returned from his time in the army and began spouting all his white supremacy bullshit and declaring himself part of the superior race. But here Bambi was, heading to the prison a good forty-five minutes away from home where he was waiting in the hospital wing behind bars.

After signing in as a visitor and getting past security, Bambi made her way to the back of the prison, following the guard who was leading her. She kept quiet, a bit ashamed of the fact that she was a Crowder. She knew the warden expected to see her in there one day and not as a visitor — but she was determined to prove them wrong.

Only to pass a semi-familiar face who was leaving the very cell she wanted inside — well, she didn't want to be there, but she was.

"Raylan Givens?" she questioned as he came to a stop, a surprised look on his face.

"Bambi Crowder," he said before shaking his head with a smile. "Don't know why given your last name, but I must say, I'm surprised to see you here."

"Me too," she admitted. "But two brothers get shot within a week. Figure I better come say something to the last one standing in case he bites it."

"Oh, he'll be fine," Raylan said, waving her off. "But he's just loaded up on some pain medicine. Don't know how much of a riveting conversationalist he'll be."

"Can't be worse than he usually is," she sighed. "Sat in the parking lot for fifteen minutes just gearing up for his usual crap."

"Oh, you're in for a treat then," he said, smiling. "He's got some new crap. Jesus saves crap."

Bambi shook her head, a small, disbelieving smile on her face. "Maybe you ought not have missed if that's the case, Marshal. Thought you'd be a better shot."

"I'd like to think I didn't miss," he said, a soft look in his eyes. Then he glanced at the impatient guard. "I'll be lettin' you go see your brother now. I'm sure you got a lot to talk about with him."

"Aw, naw," she said, shaking her head. "Just gone poke him in the chest and tell him 'I told you so'."

Raylan chuckled and looked down at his boots. "Sounds like a sister's duty."

"Bye, Raylan. It was nice seeing you again," she said, giving him a small wave.

He just nodded his head to her. "You too. Be careful gettin' home."

"I figure I should be tellin' you that," she grinned, walking past him. "You're the lawman, ain't you?"

With a parting chuckle, Raylan and Bambi went separate ways, both their moods a little better off. Bambi wasn't dreading the visit as much as she thought of the older man. Maybe he was stuck in Lexington and not in Harlan, but perhaps they could be friends if he made his way to her hometown every now and then.

Bambi didn't have many friends — no one with a good personality wanted to risk any kind of connection to Bo Crowder's empire.

Once she reached the cell, Bambi's frown returned as she spotted Boyd lying there, his shirt gone and revealing a bandage in the middle of his chest. There was a small, red stain on it, signaling his wound was draining a bit. And he looked at her through hazy eyes, it clear that his medicine had started to kick in.

But his eyes — the same eyes of their father while she got their dead mother's blue ones — widened, unable to believe she was there. It'd been months, after all, since Bambi dared to interact with her brother.

"Well, I truly have been blessed by the Lord on this day to lay eyes upon my baby sister," Boyd said in an awed tone. Then he held up the button that controlled the pain medicine hooked up to his IV. "I do very much hate to admit it, but I've just succumbed to the needs of the flesh. I just do hope I remember whatever it is you've come to say."

"Fuck you, Boyd," Bambi said, making him roll his eyes.

Bambi may have come off as a sweet young thing to strangers, but she'd grown up a Crowder. Even if she'd been kept out of their criminal acts, she still had a foul mouth like Bowman had and a short temper like her daddy.

"You deserve to be buried next to Bowman and know it. You're a piece of shit and lucky that Marshal Givens spared you — I heard he always shoots to kill," she went on.

"I heard the same," he agreed. "But this is what the Lord intended for me. To live on and spread His word to make up for my past sins. My survival is an Act of God."

"Raylan being a bad shot is an Act of God?" Bambi asked, unimpressed. "Well, maybe you aren't a so-called racist anymore, but you're still crazy. Nice to know you'll be locked up just like Daddy. Just wish you'd have taken a few more of your buddies with you — never liked all them either."

Boyd frowned at that. "You be careful out there, Bambi," he said, his eyes growing heavy as the medicine kicked in. "Y'ain't got me protectin' you anymore."

Bambi scoffed. "You ain't been protecting me, Boyd. I ain't even seen you since I got back from school."

"You're wrong," he said simply. "And you got to be careful. Me and Daddy — we got enemies."

"What? Like the police?" she asked, amused. "Well, I met the good Marshal. Something tells me your enemy doesn't have it out for me."

"Raylan," he breathed out. "Stay close to Raylan. He'll protect you. He's a good man. You and Ava."

"Speakin' of Ava," she said, crossing her arms. "I wish she'd of been the one to shoot you. She deserved it with how creepy you've been to her. Maybe if she don't go to prison, she'll know some peace from our family for once — so long as Johnny fucks off."

"So foul-mouthed," he muttered, his head lolling to the side. "I will pray for you, Sweet Sister."

"Yeah, 'cause I bet God is just dying to listen to you," she said before looking at the guard. "I'm done here, I figure."

"Goodbye, Bambi," Boyd called as she left.

In response, Bambi just raised her middle finger, passing along her sentiments to him.

✵︎

Fifteen minutes later, Bambi was cursing on the side of the road, somewhat wondering if her mental brother had goddamn prayed for her downfall because of the way she'd talked to him — she wouldn't put it past him.

Because there she was, thirty minutes by car from home and who knew how long on foot, her dark green Honda CRV on the side of the road with a flat tire. She'd driven so far on it that it bent the rim of her front, left-side tire, so the spare she'd unpacked wouldn't even fit on it.

So, with a huff, Bambi sat on the side of the road, leaning against her car as she dug out her phone. And one call with the only tow company in Harlan told her that she'd be waiting for a good two and a half hours before someone could make it out to her — not even being a Crowder and having the power that came with the last name could change the fact that their usual driver called out sick.

Bambi, supremely bored and not wanting to kill her phone battery, began throwing pebbles at the asphalt road, watching them bounce as she waited around, only for her savior to arrive five minutes later in a Town Car.

She didn't get up at first, not one to trust strangers, but then the passenger side window rolled down, revealing Raylan Givens' handsome face.

"Car trouble?" he asked her.

"Flat tire and bent rim. Two and a half hours before the truck gets here," she said while getting to her feet. Then she peered into his car, wondering why he wasn't driving. "Dewey Crowe?"

"Hey, baby," Dewey said with a little smile on his face. She thought he looked silly given that he had a broken nose.

Dewey had always been sweet on Bambi.

Bambi cringed. "Don't call me that," she said before looking back at Raylan, resting her arms on the side of his car as she leaned down to look in the window. "Just what are you doing letting Dewey in a set of prison clothes drive your car, Marshal?"

"Prison transport duty," he informed her. "He got two days in the hospital on account of his unfortunately broken nose."

"You broke my—"

"Shut up," Raylan told him, not looking away from an amused Bambi. "We're headin' in the wrong direction, but I don't like the idea of you on the side of the road by yourself. And I got a mighty fine chauffeur here if you'd like to ride along. I'll get you home when we're done."

"Are you sure?" she asked, biting her lip a bit. "I don't wanna be an inconvenience, or, like, a liability."

"Trust me," Raylan said, snorting. "I don't think this one here is gonna be much danger."

After thinking it over for a moment, Bambi nodded. "Yeah. Just let me get my things out of my car."

✵︎

Bambi thought Dewey was a bad driver but kept her opinion to herself. As Raylan busied himself on his phone, checking emails, she worked on grading the kids' history reports. It wasn't going to take long — there were only nine kids in the fifth grade in Harlan, and she'd have even less next year when the seven fourth-graders moved up.

But it became increasingly hard to focus when Dewey wouldn't shut up.

"Marshals drive Lincolns now? Or is this confiscated?" Dewey asked, not getting an answer. "Yeah, I had a Town Car myself one time when I was down visiting Cousin Dale in Florida, till I sold it for parts and went to work at Disney. You know what I tried out for? To play Goofy... Mickey Mouse's friend. Only you had to water-ski. I couldn't get the hang of that, so they put me selling ice cream. But Disney's got a lot of Nеgrоеs and homosexuals working there, so I came back home."

Raylan glanced back at an annoyed Bambi before lowering his phone. "If you're gonna talk, I'm gonna put you in the trunk, and I'll drive myself. Miss Crowder is trying to grade."

Bambi grinned as he used the name her students called her, just shaking her head while hoping Dewey listened. But anyone that hung out with her big brother had a problem with listening.

"You grew up in Harlan, huh?" Dewey asked Raylan, who didn't answer. "I grew up in Corbin. Oh, you ready for this? My dad has never been outside of Kentucky. Whole life, never been closer to the border than Parisville, where he is now. You know, we're gonna be, uh, we're gonna be going by there. If we was to, uh, get off on route 9, we could stop by and see him. It wouldn't be more than a few miles out of our way. What do you say to that?"

He was greeted with silence.

"Not much, huh?"

Raylan looked at him sharply. "Your old dad's never crossed the state lines, but he's been up to Manchester, hasn't he? He's seen the inside of the Kentucky state prison. You got an uncle who came out of there, and another did his time in McCreary. I think we'll skip seeing any of your kin this trip."

"My uncles are both dead—"

"By gunshot, huh? You understand how I see your people?" he asked accusingly.

Bambi's amused smile fell as she looked down at her lap. Dewey's people was her people, after all. So, even if he was cordial to her, Bambi knew that Raylan would never think much of her because of the last name she was branded with.

Suddenly, Dewey moved to hit Raylan, who easily blocked him and then punched him in the face. The car swerved, and Bambi squealed while grabbing ahold of the handle on the ceiling until the car came to a screeching halt. With wide eyes, she watched as Dewey clutched his bleeding nose while Raylan pointed his gun at him.

With his free hand, he pulled out his set of handcuffs. "Put one on your left wrist." Still breathing heavily, Dewey did as told. Then Raylan nodded to the wheel. "Now snap the other one to the wheel." Dewey looked at him in confusion given that he was still driving. "To the wheel, Chinatown. Let's go!"

"I can't drive handcuffed to the damn steering wheel," he protested.

"You'll get the hang of it," he said snarkily, watching as Dewey did so. "Now drive."

Dewey hesitantly pulled back onto the empty road, and Raylan finally turned back to look at a rattled Bambi, his gun still trained on Dewey. "Are you okay, Bambi?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Kinda was expecting worst taking a ride with you. This ain't nothin'."

"Well, still, I won't make habits of putting you in danger," he promised. "Sorry to interrupt your grading."

"I'll forgive you but only this once."

✵︎

It was dark by the time they dropped Dewey off at the state prison, and Bambi was thankful to move to the passenger side seat as Raylan drove — he was a much better driver that Dewey was. And a mere five minutes after they pulled away from the prison, Bambi got a call.

"They just picked my car up," Bambi said, rolling her eyes as she hung up. "Thanks for pickin' me up. Don't tell anyone, but I'm afraid of the dark. Sittin' on the side of the road in the dark would've just about killed me."

"Come on now. You live in Harlan. You ought to be fearless," he said, chuckling.

"Well, keep it a secret. I'm a Crowder — gotta appear real rough and tough."

"You're a school teacher in a pretty sundress," he said, casting his eyes sideways at her. "Don't look all that rough and tough."

"Maybe I'm being misleading," she said teasingly.

"Something tells me you're a horrible liar," he smirked. "If I can see through a bunch of criminals, I can see through you."

"Aw, I'll find a way to surprise you one day."

"If you say so," he chuckled. "Need me to drive you to pick up your car tomorrow?"

"Naw, Ava can take me," she said.

"Y'all two close?" he questioned, wondering about the family dynamic.

"Real close," she said, smiling. "Poor thing married into my family and I'm stuck with them. Least we could do was be there for each other."

"Kind of y'all," he noted. "How's Ava doing?"

Bambi couldn't help but laugh. "Perfectly happy to be done with my two brothers in one week," she admitted. Then she smirked at Raylan. "Told me all about the handsome and dashing U.S. Marshal that came to her rescue when Boyd came over. I think she's a little smitten."

"Yeah, she's a little obvious about that," he laughed, shaking his head. "But it ain't a good idea on my part."

"Right, what with her being on trial for murder," she noted. "You'll break her heart. Glad I'm not in her position."

"God help anyone that breaks your heart — bet your daddy would find a way to kill them from prison."

"Unfortunately," Bambi said bitterly. "Safe to say I ain't had much dating history."

"Well, can't pick your family," Raylan told her. "I think we both know that."

Rather than ask the obvious that she wanted to — have you seen your father since coming back? — she kept her mouth shut. Given the reputation that Arlo Givens had and what Raylan chose as a career, she didn't figure they had a good relationship.

Thankfully, talk of relatives couldn't continue as Raylan's phone rang. And he answered it quickly, barely glancing at the caller ID. "Hello, Art."

Though it wasn't on speakerphone, it was quiet enough in the car that Bambi could hear the voice on the other end of the call.
"Where are you?" the man, Art, asked.

"Just heading back."

"How far are you from the prison?"

"Not far," he said, glancing at a passing road sign. "Just passed through, uh, Parisville."

"Well, I want you to go back. They had a breakout," he told him, making Bambi's eyes widen.

"No shit," Raylan said, scoffing a bit.

"There was a bluegrass convict band that was playing a birthday up near Parisville, and the bass player and the drummer decided to make a run for it, so I need you to go back up to big Sandy and, you know, check their cells, see what you can find. I sent a couple of deputies up to Parisville," Art explained. "And get this... the bass player was about to be released in three months after a fifteen-year stretch."

"You got some names?" he questioned.

"They couldn't have gotten very far. See what you can find out."

Then Raylan sighed and looked at the sheepish girl in his passenger seat. "Art, I can't. I got a civilian in the passenger seat."

"The hell are you talkin' about?"

"Bambi Crowder, Boyd Crowder's little sister, had a flat tire. I picked her up and am takin' her home," he told him.

"I can get out and call, like, a cab or somethin'," she quickly offered, not wanting to be a bother.

"They ain't got cabs out here and you know it, Bambi," Raylan said.

"She's a Crowder?" Art asked him, sounding curious. He'd have more questions to ask when Raylan was back in the office.

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, just leave her in the car when you get to the prison," Art said. "If she's related to that man, I bet she can hold her own."

Raylan let his eyes slide over to Bambi, the girl scared of the dark, and frowned. "Not so sure about that, Art, but if you're approving it, I'll get turned around."

After he hung up, Raylan quickly turned the car around. Then he looked at Bambi apologetically.

"I'm sorry about this," he said. "I know it's a school night."

"I'll be okay," she told him. "If if real tired, I'll just play a movie tomorrow. They'll love me for it."

"Is that what movie days were? Teachers just not wanting to teach?"

"Basically," she shrugged with a smile as they drove down the dark road.

Only for a gas station to suddenly light up, making both of them frown. Why would they randomly turn their sign back on in the middle of the night?

"That's odd, right?" Bambi asked him.

"Little bit," he agreed as he came to a stop and backed up into the parking lot. For a moment, Raylan contemplated leaving Bambi in the car alone, but he didn't like the thought of her not at his side when there were two convicted criminals in town. "Come on. Don't want you out here alone. Just stay by me. Grab some snacks. It'll be a late night."

"I'd better not end up on the news, Raylan Givens," she said, only partly joking as they got out.

Raylan opened up the door for her, the bell ringing as the two entered. Bambi looked around the standard gas station, taking in the tacky and basic Kentucky t-shirts and trucker hats. Then she eyed the snacks as Raylan greeted the man behind the register.

"Evening."

"Evening. You, uh..." The man hesitated as he eyed Raylan almost nervously. "You need help with something?"

"No, we're just looking for some road food," Raylan told him before looking at the man.

And at the same time, Bambi and him realized the same thing. He was wearing the same tacky t-shirt and hat that were for sale. And Bambi wasn't stupid, so she moved closer to Raylan, who reached for his gun quickly.

But just as he touched the weapon, they heard a shotgun cock. Bambi whimpered and shut her eyes tightly.

"There's no way in hell you're gonna be able to draw and fire before your head comes off," the man behind them said in a hard tone.

Raylan, as fearless as ever, didn't take his eyes off the smiling man behind the counter. "I could get him."

"Fine with me," the second man said, immediately making the smile on the first man's face drop.

"What?"

"Set your weapon down on the ground, please, sir," the armed man instructed. "And your backup. Kick them back this way. On your belly. Hands on your neck."

Reluctantly, Raylan removed his hat and sat it on the counter before getting down in the vulnerable position, knowing he'd be dead if the man wanted him to be.

"Now you, girl."

"I - I'm not armed," she said, hating how her voice shook. She'd been around guns all her life and was even an expert shot, but she wasn't exactly in the position to defend herself.

The older man scanned her form, taking in the simple sundress she wore and pair of cowboy boots — it was clear she couldn't be hiding a weapon.

"Alright. Down on the ground with him," he said, letting her go.

Bambi nodded and scrambled to the ground, her shoulder touching Raylan's.

"We're gone be fine," Raylan whispered to her, meeting her terrified gaze.

And she found that though she was petrified, she believed him.

As the first man began emptying the register, the second collected Raylan's guns. "See, I told you... turning the light on will get us a car," he bragged.

"Got us some more guns, too. Give me one," the first requested.

"Oh, no. You're gonna run."

"What?" he asked, shocked.

"As far and as fast as you can, 'cause I swear to you, if I ever see you again, I'll kill you," he threatened.

"But we just busted out of the damn joint together!"

"You got five seconds," he warned.

"What is this, a joke?" he asked in disbelief.

But then a shot rang out, the second hitting just to the side of his head. Bambi shut her eyes and covered her ears, and Raylan wished more than anything that he couldn't grab onto her comfortingly.

The first man quickly fled, the bell ringing as he disappeared. Then the remaining convict stood over Raylan and Bambi.

"All right. You can sit up," he told them as they did so. "Wallet, I.D., keys, hand them over."

"In the car," Bambi muttered, thinking of the tote bag of supplies she'd never see again, most likely.

The man nodded before eyeing Raylan's weapons. "What are you, state police?"

"U.S. Marshal."

"Marshal? Like in Gunsmoke?"

"More like The Fugitive."

Bambi held back a huff, wondering why Raylan was humoring this man who had their lives in his hand.

"Huh," he said before reading the name on Raylan's badge. "Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan... Givens. I knew a fella up in Manchester named Givens — Arlo Givens. Any relation?"

"I suppose there's still some. He's my father," he explained as the man turned the lights off.

"No shit," he chucked. "And here you've become a. U.S. Marshal. How'd that go down with him?"

Raylan shook his head, ignoring the curious look Bambi was shooting him. "I wouldn't know."

"Now take your handcuffs out and cuff your hands behind your back," the man ordered. "Girl, you make a wrong move, I blow his head off."

As Bambi nodded in compliance, Raylan kept talking. "So, you Cooper or Price?"

"I'm one of them," he said defensively.

"Fine. I'll wait and find out tomorrow when your picture's in the paper," Raylan said smugly.

After a moment, the man laughed again and gave in. "My name is Michael Cooper. Glad to meet you."

"You too," Bambi said sarcastically.

"You didn't care so much for Price, huh?" Raylan asked him.

"Get on your feet," he said rather than answer. And since his hands were cuffed behind his back, Bambi helped pull Raylan to his feet.

"What was he in for?" Raylan asked even though he knew.

"His real crime? Being a lousy drummer. He's not incompetent. The man could play a paradiddle, but he's showy, he has no sense of time," Cooper said.

"How can you tell there's a bad drummer at your door?" Raylan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know. How?" Cooper asked as Bambi just gaped at him. He was telling jokes at a time like this?

"The knock speeds up."

"Nice."

"No, horrible," Bambi said, rolling her eyes at the bad joke.

"You a musician?" Cooper asked him.

"No, just someone who likes music," he admitted.

"Yeah, and shitty jokes," he jabbed. "Come on. Let's go."

As Cooper walked them back down the aisle and toward the open storage room, Raylan kept digging for information. "And what were you in for, Mr. Cooper?"

"I expect you know that already," he said before forcing them into the back room. Bambi looked around the dimly lit room nervously.

"Fifteen years is a long time for one bank job," Raylan told him.

"Well, the thing is, a fella died as a direct result. Foreseeable circumstances. But, honestly, if you hire a moron for a driver, it's foreseeable," he told them.

"You taking my badge and my car to get past any roadblocks, huh?" he asked knowingly.

Cooper nodded before using Raylan's cowboy hat to knock the cheap trucker hat off his head, replacing it. "And your hat. Good night, deputy, ma'am."

"Good night, Mr. Cooper," Raylan said as he turned the lights off and shut the door, locking it behind him. "Well... shit."

Bambi couldn't see two inches in front of her face, and she felt her pulse drumming away beneath her skin. Her mouth went dry, and all she could hear was the pounding in her ears. She just couldn't help it — the darkness felt suffocating.

"R - Raylan?" she called out, not even sure where he was in the room.

"Shit," he said again, his voice coming from the left. "The dark. Okay, Bambi, it's gone be fine. I'm right here. And someone's gone find us when morning comes."

"We're fine," she repeated, gasping for air as she shut her eyes. "Fine - oh, god. I think I'm gonna pass out."

"No, no, you're not," he said quickly. "Come here."

"Where?" she asked, her voice going up an octave. She couldn't even begin to guess where he was in the darkness.

"Put your hands out, and I'll come to you," he told her.

She swallowed thickly and did as told, and a second later, she felt a firm chest against her hands, making her flinch.

"It's just me," he said in a calming tone. "Just me. Just hold onto me, and I'll keep you safe."

"You're handcuffed. What can you do?" she asked, still breathing heavily as she focused on the feel of him.

Raylan chuckled. "A lot more than you in your current state. You're pretty useless like this."

Bambi managed to huff while pinching his collarbone, making him squirm.

"Hey, now! I said you can touch, not bruise," he told her, and she could nearly hear the grin in his tone. "You gone be okay?"

Again, she swallowed before taking in a shaky, deep breath. Then she nodded, not that he could see it. "I think so," she whispered. "Raylan?"

"Yeah, Bambi?" he asked softly.

She slid her hands up his chest and to his strong shoulders, squeezing them appreciatively. "Thank you."

"Any time, Bambi."

"No, not any time. I'm never getting in a car with you again."

"That's fair, I suppose."

✵︎

Bambi did survive that night in the storage closet. After getting tired of standing, both she and Raylan lowered to the ground to rest. The horrified owner found them the next morning, sound asleep with her head on his chest, his hands still cuffed behind his back.

A substitute teacher was called in for her that day — between being hours from Harlan and having to answer questions for the local police, no way was she making it back in time to teach that day. But eventually, as Raylan went back to Lexington to handle the escaped prisoners, a deputy drove her all the way home.

Being held at gunpoint had shaken Bambi, and she couldn't even go to Ava for comfort because the girl was in Lexington too, having to appear for the court case being built against her for both murdering Bowman and also shooting at Boyd just days later.

But Bambi had been through worse — she was a Crowder, after all. So, by the time the next day came, she was back to teaching. All her students thought it was impossibly cool that she went up against two escaped convicts and lived to tell the tale — and they loved that their assignments had all disappeared along with Raylan's stolen car, meaning she'd have to give them passing grades according to their principal.

And when the fifth graders went off to P.E., she checked the news and saw that Cooper had been caught just last night along with his ex-wife. They'd tried to get back the money he stole and hid after the bank robbery job that he was arrested for. It ended up in the death of his ex-wife's cousin-slash-lover, evidently.

But it brought some relief to Bambi, knowing that Cooper was off the streets and Raylan, who'd been there at the standoff, was okay.

So, she was in a much better mood when her students returned for the rest of their classes.

Once the day ended, Bambi found herself back in Johnny's bar, drinking an ice-cold Coke as she went over her lesson plan — part of her was tempted to show a movie rather than teach science the following day. The Magic School Bus was good enough on some days.

That was where Raylan found her, sliding onto the barstool next to Bambi, who quickly looked up at him, not expecting to see him in Harlan any time soon.

"What are you doing here, Raylan Givens?" she asked with a slight smile.

"Well, Bambi Crowder, I thought I might return something to you," he said before lifting up a familiar tote bag that had been in the back seat of his car.

"They found your car," she said, taking the bag that had her school supplies as well as wallet and car keys and phone in it. She also finally noticed he was back in his signature cowboy hat. "But more importantly, your hat."

Raylan grinned and placed his hand on the hat, making sure it wasn't crooked. "Very important."

"I read about what happened with Cooper," she told him. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you are," he said, still thinking of all the things that could've gone wrong in that gas station. "I'm sorry about the danger I put you in."

"Aw, don't worry about it," she said, waving him off. "I assumed the risk when I got in the car with a U.S. Marshal and a convicted criminal."

"Sounds like the start of a bad joke," he said with a smirk.

"Yeah, and you know all about those, don't ya?"

Raylan gaped at her as she giggled. "Here I am kindly returning your stuff, and you're attacking me. Christ sake, you're cruel. Just as cruel as you were on Thatcher Mason's history report."

She raised an amused eyebrow, realizing he'd gone through her bag. "Well, he's old enough to know the difference between there, their, and they're."

"I don't know. Those three all sounded the same to me."

"Just proof you got that good ol' fashioned Harlan education growing up."

"Maybe so," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Can I give you a ride home? Didn't see your car out front."

"Ava's takin' me to pick it up tomorrow," she told him. "And no."

"No?" he asked, a bit surprised.

Bambi grinned at him teasingly. "I explicitly promised to not get in a car with you ever again. I keep my promises, Marshal."

[ kinda hate this banner and may make a new one soon ]