One Thousand Club
"No need for the apology," Abigail replied, the ghost of a smile touching her lips as the Sheriff stumbled to his feet. She had found the office empty and had decided to take a brief respite in the shade rather than heading to find a room. Invariably she had drifted over to the wanted posters displayed on one of the walls and had still been studying them when the Sheriff had arrived.
She held out her hand. "Abigail Foster." If the Sheriff took it, he would find the hand rough and callused and her grip strong. She nodded her head in the direction of the posters. "Just got into town but I'm looking for work. Thought I'd introduce myself."
Abigail looped her thumbs into her gunbelt and waited. Women bounty hunters weren't unheard of but still uncommon enough to give plenty of men pause. Every time she arrived in a new town looking for work or information, she knew she was being judged. She had been laughed out of more Sheriff's offices than she cared to count. Of course, that only doubled her satisfaction whenever she hauled the biggest paying bounty in the territory into their jail.