A/N: Hello! This is a collab between ShinyShiny9 and Metal1784. We both wanted to write a Western AU fic, so we came together to make this. The two of us wrote the plot, and we're taking it in turns to write and edit chapters. This chapter was written by the amazing Shiny with a few edits by Metal. (Go check Shiny's stories out. She's awesome.) The amazing cover was also drawn by Shiny. We hope you'll enjoy this!

It was a brisk, autumn-tinted evening on Mobius, just cool enough to edge out of refreshing and into mildly uncomfortable. People everywhere were wearing (or growing) thicker coats, farmers were harvesting the last of their crops, and the daylight was getting that golden autumn slant as the days grew shorter and nippier. It was weather for hot cider and popcorn balls and curling up by a crackling fireplace with a good book, and the last of those is just what Sonic was doing.

It had been a long couple of days; Eggman had been particularly troublesome, and his latest scheme had only been thoroughly foiled this morning. Sonic, just a little ragged, had stopped by Tails' place to relax for a while. Casually picking up a book, he got tangled up in the intriguing Western tale, chuckling over the old-fashioned dialect. After finding that Tails had not yet read that volume, he began to read it aloud to him, just like in the old days when his brother was just a little kit. Tails, welcoming the nostalgia, sat on the living room rug and tinkered with some miniscule invention while he listened.

Now, however, the fatigue of combat and the bellyful of victory chili dogs were starting to catch up to Sonic. His tongue started to stumble over the words more and more often, his voice grew more and more sonorous, and finally his head started to nod slightly over the book. Tails, smiling, kept quiet and let his older brother rest.

Undisturbed by the soft hiss of the fireplace, Sonic dozed for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. Then he abruptly jerked into consciousness, dropping the book with a rattle of quills. Something had startled him awake; for a moment he thought the fire must have crackled, but then he registered a different sound. A voice that was familiar, yet which he dimly realized shouldn't be here right now.

"Amy?" He rubbed one eye groggily. "What are you doing here? And what are you . . . " He sat up, blinking. "What are you wearing?"

He was pretty sure that was not Amy's standard outfit. It was still a cough-drop-red dress, to be sure, but it reached to the floor in four overlapping layers of ruffled fabric. The neckline was low, leaving her shoulders bare and curving gracefully into a pair of nonsensically puffy short sleeves, all bedecked with extra lace and ruffles. Most disconcerting of all, instead of a Piko-Piko hammer over her shoulder she was carrying a parasol, trimmed in cherry-red and white. And more lace. Of course.

Sonic was so busy trying to make sense of this bizarre new outfit that it took him a few seconds to register the anxious, almost panicked look on Amy's face. When he did, however, he immediately lost his gobsmacked expression in favor of a grim frown of determination.

"What's wrong, Amy? Is Eggman not finished after all?" he asked, swinging his feet off the sofa and onto the floor.

"Not finished? He's barely even started!" cried Amy, and without warning clasped Sonic's hands in eager desperation. Sonic vaguely noticed that her gloves were daintier than usual, lightly lavender-scented and trimmed with—preserve us all—more lace.

"Oh, thank goodness I found you, Sheriff! Come quickly, please! Hurry!"

"Wh . . . wha? Did you say sheriff?"

"We need you, Sheriff Sonic! Big Boss Eggman might be coming any minute!"

"Big Boss? . . . " Sonic stared blankly as Amy tugged insistently at his hands. Presently though, he realized the direction she was pulling him in, and a look of understanding crossed his face.

"Ohhhh, wait a minute. Did you come from that book?" he asked, nodding at the Western thriller that had fallen open on the floor.

"Well of course I did!" said Amy, as if he'd just asked the obvious. "We need you in there, Sheriff! You will help us, won't you?"

Sonic nodded, a grin spreading across his face. He'd done this before, visiting the days of King Arthur and the Arabian Nights, and it had been an awesome adventure either time. Besides, he never turned away a call for help.

"Lead the way!" he called, and followed an eager Amy through the glowing, sand-brown and sky blue portal blossoming over the living room floor.

Oof!

Not his best-ever landing.

Sonic was used to falling out of the sky and landing on his feet, or his head, but this time there was interference. The warp into the book had sent him falling back into a chair, and before he could register that fact, the chair had flipped backwards, sending him to the floor in a flurry of legs and quills. Groaning, he untangled himself and sat upright.

The first thing he realized was that he was in a dim, slightly musty room, lit by a single small window. Dust motes danced in the golden shaft of light streaming through, and the air had a sort of warm, wooden, sandy smell. There were a few other chairs besides the one he'd overturned, a barrel or two, and a desk.

Also, he realized, he was wearing a belt. It was a sturdy leather contraption, tough but light, with a strange sort of pocket-thing to the right. Also, a golden sheriff's star glinted on his chest, pinned there by methods he didn't choose to think about too deeply. Still studying this new attire, Sonic reached up to scratch his head, and his fingers made contact with the suede-like surface of a handsome cowboy hat.

Wow. Kinda nifty.

"Are you all right, Sheriff?" asked a concerned voice by his ear. Sonic jumped, realizing that Amy had warped along with him. Somehow she seemed to have managed a much more graceful landing; Sonic reddened, scrambling to his feet hastily.

"I'm fine," he said, dusting himself off and scrabbling to remember the cowboy dialect he'd just been reading out of . . . this very book, actually. "So, what can I do ya for, little lady?"

The odd look Amy gave him said that he either wasn't supposed to talk like that after all, or that he was seriously botching the dialect.

"You have to help us stand up to Big Boss Eggman," she said, wringing her hands. "That crazy old railway baron wants to buy the entire town of Gusty Gulch, and he's got the money to do it, too. He says he wants to run a railroad right through here!"

"No problem!" said Sonic, swinging a fist confidently. "Lead me to his railroad robots, and I'll pulverize 'em!"

Amy gave him a confused look.

" . . . Robots? . . . "

Sonic backpedalled, realizing that the Wild West probably didn't have such things.

"Well—uhh—I mean, what do you need me to smash?" he asked, wondering if Eggman was going to be coming for him with steam-powered Egg Pawns.

"Nothing needs smashing," said Amy, looking at him as if he were thoroughly insane by now. "You need to convince him to renegotiate the contract!"

Sonic's face fell at once.

"Contract?"

"Yes! He kept pestering the last sheriff to sign a contract giving the whole town to Eggman. But now that you're here, you'll just tell him to hightail it out of here, right?"

"Uhh," stammered Sonic, gulping. This had gone very rapidly downhill. Contracts? He didn't know the first thing about legalese! Give him a legion of robots and he'd throw himself into their midst grinning from ear to ear, but he didn't have the first clue about negotiating paperwork.

But looking at Amy's hopeful smile, he couldn't turn her down. A whole town needed saving! Besides, how bad could it be? It seemed pretty straightforward: just flat-out refuse to sign. Heck, even he could do that.

"Right," he said at last, pulling down his cowboy hat with a rough-and-ready smile. "Don't worry, Miss. I'll set that Eggman running so you won't be able to see him for the dust."

"Ohh, thank goodness!" squealed Amy, clutching her parasol ecstatically. "Oh, all our troubles are over! I knew you'd be a good sheriff!"

"I'll do what I can, Miss," grinned Sonic, although he was still hearing an uneasy voice piping in the back of his head. "Uhhh . . . say, if you don't mind me askin', what happened to the last sheriff?"

"Ohh, him." Amy made a rather unladylike dismissive sound. "Sheriff Silver was a nice guy, but he couldn't handle pressure. Boss Eggman dropped a couple of hints that he'd send desperados to chase us out by force if we didn't sign, and Sheriff Silver was a terrible shot. Finally quit under the strain." She flashed Sonic an optimistic smile. "I bet you're a great shot, right Sheriff?"

Sonic mumbled something automatically, his heart dropping out from behind the gold sheriff's star. Guns? He'd forgotten about that part! Sure, he'd somewhat reluctantly taken up a sword while trapped in the story of King Arthur, but a gun was something else altogether; he had a mortal aversion to those things. With a sword you could at least throw your will behind each blow, but firearms spat cold, indifferent death at a twitch of a finger, making it effortless. Now that he was stuck in the Wild West, was he going to have to use a gun?

Swallowing, he surreptitiously opened the flap on the odd little pocket on his belt, feeling inside. His hand met cool metal.

Dangit.

"Are you all right, Sheriff?" asked Amy, tilting her head. "Ooh! Are you planning how to deal with those desperados?"

"Uhh . . . uhm, yeah," stammered Sonic. "I, uh . . . need to do a lot of planning. And I, uh, plan best on my feet . . . " He started to head for the door, feeling the urge to get out and take a good brisk run to sort out his thoughts. Amy tailed him, a little puzzled but still optimistic.

"Don't go too far, Sheriff! We'll let you know if Boss Eggman shows up early."

"Thanks, I—" As Sonic stepped outdoors into the warm, dusty sunlight, he suddenly froze. Then, yanking Amy behind himself, he dropped into a protective stance, feet spread wide, fists at the ready.

"Stay back, Amy!" he warned, glaring down the row of Motobugs that stood menacingly at the edge of the porch. "I'll take care of these!"

"Take care of what?" demanded Amy, peering over his shoulder. "Who, Sheriff? Where?!"

"Wha—" Sonic cast her a disbelieving glance over his shoulder. "Right there!" He jabbed a finger at the Motobugs.

Amy slowly looked from him to the Motobugs, then back to him, confusion written all over her face.

"The horses?" she ventured at last.

Sonic stood mute.

"They're very sweet-natured once they get used to you. This one's yours, Sheriff," continued Amy, stepping around him and approaching the nearest Motobug. Sonic reflexively reached out a hand to stop her, but didn't complete the motion; he watched in disbelief as the Motobugs stood completely calm and docile, letting Amy rub their heads. One of them whinnied.

"Everyone thinks I'll never be able to ride," sighed Amy, casting Sonic a reproachful glance. "Don't you think a lady can handle a horse, Sheriff?"

"I'm, uh, sure you could," mumbled Sonic, still somewhat dazed. First the contracts, then the guns, now this. If he was going to be expected to whir about on a Motobug instead of using his own two feet, there were gonna be issues.

Amy, however, seemed satisfied with the answer. She waved coquettishly as Sonic blurted a goodbye, tightened his cowboy hat, and took off in a cloud of dust.

"He's a little eccentric," she murmured to the nearest Motobug, who nickered and nuzzled her cheek. "But I think he'll be a splendid sheriff!"

Meanwhile, Sonic tore circles around the outskirts of town, biting his lip in thought. He still wanted to help the townsfolk, that was for sure, and he figured he could handle the contract if it just meant saying no. But what if Eggman tried to negotiate? What if he did send in the desperados? Sonic would fail, and the townsfolk would be doomed. What if Sonic wasn't the right hedgehog for the job after all?

Still deep in thought, Sonic almost missed the tin can flying across his path. At the last second he noticed it and swerved out of the way, his shoes skidding in the sandy soil. Turning, he caught sight of a familiar figure.

"Tai—!" he began, then remembered that he wasn't supposed to know anyone's name here yet. Still, seeing that his little bro had wound up in this adventure along with him was heartening. Approaching quietly, he felt his eyes grow wide. Tails was using a gun! A line of tin cans was perched on a nearby fence, and the little fox, a chocolate-colored cowboy hat perched on his head, was squinting at them down the barrel of a rifle. Handled like a pro, too. Sonic stared, dumbstruck.

Then Tails pulled the trigger, and Sonic almost laughed with relief. Instead of a sharp retort and the whiz of bullet splitting air, there was only the soft metallic plunk of a tin can being hit by a stream of water. It was only a squirt gun! It sure looked real, though, and Tails seemed to be treating it like a real one . . .

Eyes widening in sudden realization, Sonic fumbled his holster open and pulled his own gun out gingerly. He felt his skin crawling a little at the touch, but he pushed that aside and shook the weapon carefully. There was a distinct sloshing sound. Almost convinced, he aimed it at a cactus flower, set his teeth, and pulled the trigger.

Yup. Squirt gun. Well, this was a development! Sonic wasn't big on getting wet by any means, but it sure beat running around spewing bullets like some kind of heavy-metal motorcycle hog.

Meanwhile, Tails finished his round of target practice and turned around to reload. He caught sight of Sonic and immediately hustled over.

"Are you the new sheriff? Welcome to Gusty Gulch!"

"Howdy!" Sonic extended a hand. "Name's Sonic. What's yours?"

"I'm Tails. You might hear some folks 'round here call me Li'l Tails, but that's just force of habit. Went out of fashion years ago," said Tails, drawing himself up a little taller. Sonic fought back a smile.

"Got it. You know, you seem to be a pretty good shot there, partner."

"You think so?" Tails beamed. "I've been practicing every day for months! I'm ready for anythin'." He glanced up at Sonic hopefully. "Say . . . Ya think you'll be needing any deputies, Sheriff?"

Sonic opened his mouth to say "sure!", but stopped. He'd already seen that the Amy of this world acted pretty different from the usual Amy; she was a little more ladylike, didn't crush his ribs, and seemed to lack that self-defense edge that the Piko-Piko hammer gave her. The "real" Tails back at home was a capable and self-reliant battle partner, but for all Sonic knew this Tails could be radically different. Better to check out his skills a little before signing him up for a possibly dangerous deputy job . . .

Sonic was still working out how to word this reply tactfully (and Tails' face was already falling slightly as he foresaw an imminent refusal) when a sudden shriek echoed from the distance.

"Somethin's happening back in town!" cried Tails, whirling. Sonic was already tearing in that direction; Tails stared after him, amazed at his speed.

"Wow . . . " he whispered, and hastened to catch up.