Realistic or Modern Femme Fatales (Western RP)

[Mitheral]

June 1871

Kasey Jones - Arrival

A white woman with flaming red hair, dressed in clothing of an Apache rode accompanied by one Apache brave. He was perhaps a decade older than she. To look at them one might have thought she had been captured and gone native. And perhaps that might have been a fair statement. She was about ready to head into town, but the warrior stopped. She stopped and looked back.

The warrior, Running Wolf, shook his head. “These are your people. They will not understand. Here I bid you farewell my sister of medicine - Fiery Spirit. The People will remember you.”

Kasey’s eyes narrowed looking for some hint of humor. The name was a constant source of laughter for the Apache tribe she had stayed with. But she could see none. Well, perhaps the name had come to mean more to her than a simple act of clumsiness. Although … Running Wolf’s father had always said it was one reason a woman should not try to be one with the spirits. In his eyes she always saw mischief. She’d miss the old shaman most of all.

There was nothing more left to be said. She nodded and turned her steed, Patches, toward the place known as Albuquerque. It didn’t look like much. But she had heard a rumor they needed a doctor and a vet both. And she could do both. She needed the work, if not the money. But she would worry about work tomorrow. For tonight she needed a place to sleep and a bath. So she urged Patches to a trot and aimed herself toward the saloon and tavern.

Tomorrow she would see a man about an office in town.

++++++++++++++++++++

As it turned out the rumors had been a half truth. The town had a doctor - if you could call him that. Really he was more of a butcher. He was the town’s dentist and barber as well. She doubted he had half her education, though she readily accepted his experience. No, it was her sex and her accent that had sunk her from the start. Oh, she managed to get her business licenses pushed through - for a pretty penny. But the way the man had talked she had little doubt that finding work was going to be tough - in the case of either business.

By the end of the week she had leased a building that would do for a doctor’s office just two doors from the local blacksmith. The shop between them had been abandoned largely because of the noise. It was perfect for her veterinary practice. The owner of the buildings didn’t care at all. He was blind to all but money. As soon as she had signed she sent off for supplies, herbs, and medical instruments. Then she got to work cleaning.

++++++++++++

Once her offices were clean there was nothing left to do but kill time while waiting for supplies. For most towns people there would have been little to do except go to a saloon and drink. Kasey wasn’t most people. Sure, she went to a saloon. Sure she even drank. But her reasons were far from innocent.

She had changed from her Apache clothing into something more … American West. Jeans, shirt, vest, a fine dark brown cowboy hat. She looked more like a fancy gunslinger that had explored the northwest, which she had been for a time. If life hadn’t been so rough she might have stayed with it. But it simply hadn’t been fair to suffer because she wanted a life of her own. Now she was determined to have it.

She found herself a table - alone - and sat down.

“Hey Lady Doc! How’s business? Looking pretty slow over there,” some cowboy jeered.

She thought about responding and explaining that business would remain slow until her equipment arrived. But she saw no point.

“Doing fine. Takes a little time to get things ready. Don’t like my patients dying horrible deaths by infection. You ever see a man die that way? Real ugly having to chop off pieces. Only thing I’ve seen worse is an Indian counting coup on an enemy.” Only then did she raise her head to glance at the man. The man had paled and looked away.

She looked over at the man behind the counter. “Something to drink please. Strong … vodka if you have it.” Her lips curled up as she saw the thin man behind the counter reach back without even looking and poured a shot. As the drink was brought over she smiled. “You may wish to stock up. Now this is a proper drink." She tilted her head back and downed the shot in one gulp. Then she tapped on the table to ask for another. “First one is for relaxing. Second is to enjoy.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

It took a week and a half for her supplies to arrive. And it didn’t all arrive at the same time. She found herself hiring a few porters, an Indian half breed named Johnny Crazy Horse (which wasn’t really his name, but white folks sure loved it) and a Chinese man named Xiang Li who proved to be stronger than he looked. Everyone called him Shane Lee. The man seemed a little surprised when she got it closer than most and tried practicing. When the heavier furniture came in she added a black man named Isaac Freeman. Needless to say her choices of workers earned her some rather dirty looks. But she simply didn’t care. They were hard workers and all she could really afford.

It was no accident that she hired three non whites. Bluntly, it was a form of advertisement. She used them to spread the word that she wouldn’t turn any of their people away - only that she expected to be paid. She had to cover the costs of her medications and lease. Before she could even set up shop completely she had her first customers.

After a trip across the Northern Territories, down through the Californias, months spent with the Apache - Kasey was certain she had lost the Baron, Johann von Grossenburg. As if she ever wanted to be called Baroness Katerina von Grossenburg. It just sounded deplorable. Worse, she was a Countess.

************************

Josie Smith - Arrival

Josie Smith rode astride her beautiful Andalusian friend, Anthracite in her best riding clothes, trailed by a pack mule that it was a miracle she hadn’t lost. She had ridden, hopped train rides, been eaten alive by every type of insect, nearly snake bit, almost captured by Mexican bandits and Indians. Her beautiful riding outfit was caked with dust. Even her kerchief was the same brown dusty color of the West. She looked around and spotted a young boy.

“Excuse me,” she tried to hide her accent but failed in her irritation. But the boy hardly noticed. Even as she spoke dust fell awake and puffed out as if she was exhaling smoke. The sneeze that followed did nothing to help. She had more dust on her than Anthracite did.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Is there an inn around here, someplace decent with proper accommodations for my destrier?” she asked. the boy simply looked at her blankly as though she had spoken a foreign language. She sighed and explained, “a flop house with a stable for my horse.”

“Oh. Why didna ya say so?” the boy asked puzzled. “Yeah ... yes ma’am. Down the street until you see the saloon. Hang a left. Just a few minutes and it’s there on yer right. Can’t miss it.”

“Oh thank you. Bless you! Is it always this dusty?” she asked still a bit peeved at just how much had accumulated on her. It was enough to cause her to allow the boy's poor grammar to slip her mind.

The boy was about to answer, but an elderly gentleman nearby cackled and spit on the ground. “Shucks lady. This here’s a good day.”

She gave the elder man a scathing look, but decided against admonishing the man for poor manners. “That’s good to know.” She huffed a little, her head drooping. “Come along Anthracite. Let’s get some trail dust off of us. Thank you kindly gentlemen.” And with that she urged her horse forward before she said something biting. She was tired and hungry and very much in need of a bath.

At least she soon discovered the boy hadn’t lied. Even so she had nearly lost everything to her mule panicking at the sounds of gunfire down the street. Fortunately the noise hadn’t been so close that the animal couldn’t be calmed down. And she was better on a horse than most women of high society. As tired as she was, she did not hold back on having Anthracite spoiled. Brown sugar and an apple, finest feed available. It was only the best for her friend. Finally satisfied she turned into the hotel.

She had changed her name yet again. This time she had adopted the common name of Smith. She wondered just how long she would be able to remain before trouble found her yet again.

++++++++++++

It had been a week since her arrival in town. Josie Smith had since begun to settle in and make plans to build a future here. She had started with the bank and Mayor, arranging for land just on the edge of town on which to build a school. The Mayor hadn’t seemed especially approving at first, but once Josie pointed out how progressive it would make the town look and that she was footing the bill, he came around and gave the project his blessing. She had specifically requested the least arable land available - with the exception that it would need to be a little elevated, not a place where rain waters might accumulate and drown the children.

kangaroosnail Goonfire nini Terrier B

 

[shadowdude505]

Alexandra "Alex" Henderson
Arrival​

How long had she been riding? She wasn't sure anymore; the days started to blend together. It had been a long journey from Texas. She wasn't really sure where she was trying to go, but it felt good being out of that house; being far, far away from her overbearing mother. It hurt being separated from her younger sisters, but she felt like she had to do something drastic; what was more drastic than crossing state lines?

She was beginning to get bored of riding. "Just a few more miles," she reputedly told herself. It became easier to focus after spotting a sign for Albuquerque. She noted the arable looking land as she rode in. There must be ranches nearby. "Woah there, Sandy." Alex tapped her heals into the side of her horse; a sand colored mare now covered in dust. She stopped near a woman walking with her daughter. For a moment she saw her mother and herself at that age. Alex massaged her eyebrows. It really was time for a break.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she said, catching the woman's attention. "Where can I find the inn and a stable?"

"It's down that way," the woman replied, pointing. "Take a left at the saloon and, down a ways, it'll be on your right."

"Much obliged," Alex tipped her hat like a gentleman.
~~
After getting Sandy squared away, Alex walked into the inn. She rented a room and dropped off her things. She grabbed what little clean clothes she had left in her suitcase and headed down toward the bath.

The warm water felt amazing. It had been a while since she was able to get clean like this. She took her time in the tub, soaking in the cleaning process, and later changed into some jeans, a yellow button up shirt, a black cowboy hat, and her brown cowboy boots. She holstered her gun to her hip, she wasn't counting on using it, but she was out of her comfort zone and figured it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.

She counted the rest of her money after arranging for the rest of her clothes to be washed. "Maybe this is the end of the line," she said softly to herself.

So far lady luck had been smiling at her, hopefully she'd be able to find some work in town. Maybe a rancher or a homesteader in need of an extra set of hands. If she put her mind to it, she'd probably find something.

For now, she headed toward the saloon. If it was like any saloon, it would be a social hub. She might be able to hear something useful that would help her come up with what to do next. She could also use a drink.

She walked up to the bar and sat down.

"Whiskey."

She didn't want to spend everything she had left on drinks just in case things didn't pan out for a day or two. She slowly started to drink, unaware that she was clutching the locket with her other hand.

Mitheral Goonfire nini

 

[Goonfire]

Patrice Beaumont

Mounted on her horse, Patrice rode into town from her ranch on the outskirts. In one hand we’re the reins, in the other, a list. Rumor had it that a new and unusual doctor came into town, with experience in both human and veterinary medicine. She needed supplies and medicine, but since it wasn’t urgent, she opted to make a short detour.

This wasn’t the first time the widow had made the detour. Over the course of two years, she had visited the saloon once a month, on average. Even without her patronage, word had spread about the Beaumont Ranch. Patrice had settled near a lake, allowing herself fertile land on which her cattle could graze.

Patrice tethered Bonnie outside the saloon before entering. She was surprised with the number of more rugged-looking women. However, the bartender drew her attention with a greeting: “Evening, Miss Beaumont. How’s the ranch?”

“So far, so good, I suppose,” she retorted. “How’s business?”

“Never better. What’ll it be?”

“A bit of whiskey to clear the mind.”

“That’ll do it!”

Upon being served, Patrice expressed gratitude, then stared into the glass for a moment. She downed the contents without much more thought.

 

[Mitheral]

Jonathan Rhand

Jonathan felt like his kidneys were going to kill him as his wagon rolled down the street at a speed far from comfortable. He kept trying to get the horses to slow down. But at the same time he wanted to get his business done and over with. He NEVER used Patches to hook to a wagon or plow. He would have sooner pulled the wagon himself.

It was a well known fact that Jon was clueless about any sort of steed, livestock, or fowl. He had been visited by neighbors before and the same could be said for the upkeep of his home. It lacked anything resembling a woman’s touch. Some folks had suggested he place an ad for a mail order bride. A few in town had suggested placing one FOR him. And some of the available women in town had tried to catch his eye. But he seemed oblivious and generally read all advances as simple friendly gestures.

He had heard about a veterinarian setting up a business in town. That fact interested him greatly. Some ranchers feared a vet. But smart ones paid their dues and had the livestock checked. Failure to do so could mean the difference in the success or failure of a ranch - all the ranches.

He had passed by the vet’s office, but learned from Xiang that the woman was at the saloon. He smiled. The fact didn’t surprise him. He had picked up on her accent. He thanked Xiang and continued on to the Saloon. Once there he disembarked and headed in. This was something he rarely ever did as he didn’t drink.

Now in June, most of the herds were being driven to the nearest railhead. This meant that only the larger ranches and the newest ones had more than a skeleton crew. Jon had yet to raise enough cattle to drive. He only kept a few to slaughter for food - or for dairy. But he still wanted his livestock healthy.

He entered the saloon and looked around. It took him only a moment to spot the flaming red hair of the Vet. He smiled faintly as her head tilted back as she downed another shot.

Lew Gantz (Deputy and Saloon Owner / Bartender)

Whiskey. It was the poor man’s drink, tasting little better than kerosene. It was the choice of those who either drank for effect or were poor - or both. It was the drink of choice for someone in need of work. The woman (Alexandra Henderson) may as well have been advertising. She wasn’t dressed ladylike. Lew could only imagine what Elma, the Trading Post owner’s wife, was thinking. Probably tongue wagging away. The saloon was the source of sin in town.

Lew picked up an upside down glass (a 4 ounce gill) and quickly wiped it inside and out before turning it over and pouring. “Two bits (25 cents),” he said quietly.

Then the second woman (Patricia Beaumont) took a seat and asked for the same and received the same. Unlike the newcomer, he set Patricia up with a tab. She always paid. The woman was going through tough times. She was located very close to the Sunrise T, owned by Jeremiah Tanner. The Sunrise T was the largest ranch in the area. Patricia had come to the attention of his sons. And if Lew wasn’t mistaken, Tanner considered the possibility of adding the Beaumont Ranch to his by way of marriage.

His eyes drifted upwards as the very tall Jonathan entered the room. It was someone he didn’t see every day. Then he noticed where the man’s eyes fell. He caught Kasey’s eyes for only an instant. He saw her eyes drift to the mirror behind the counter.

Jonathan Rhand

“U menya vam robota,” Jon spoke in Russian. (He had work for her.) “Vodka?”

Kasey’s eyes widened. She had very nearly lost her accent since arriving in America. She had only met Jonathan briefly, and hardly spoke. She had detected no accent from him, yet he spoke with an accent that reminded her of home.

He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he switched to English. “I just need to see about getting my livestock looked over when you get a chance. How close are you to needing the materials you ordered?” He handed over a small package. “Samples - before I get carried away with production.”

shadowdude505 Goonfire

 

[shadowdude505]

Alexandra "Alex" Henderson​

Alex plunked a quarter on the bar counter before grabbing her drink. She started to drink slowly and subconsciously fiddled with her locket with her other hand. She turned her gaze toward the woman beside her. The bartender hadn't made her pay up front. Did she have a tab?

"Are you a local?" she asked Patrice. She rested the arm that had been messing with her locket on her lap and gestured with her finger. "I'm new around here; just rode in a little while ago. I'm on my last legs of luck and was wonderin' what kind of work needed doin' around here."

She gazed into her drink glass as she swirled what remained of her whisky. "Assuming I still have a lick of luck left...," she added to herself.

Goonfire Mitheral

 

[Mitheral]

Josie Smith
Alice’s Restaurant

Josie had already seen the man before he even walked in. She already had a habit of choosing a window seat. And she was already becoming a regular. Tipping nicely always helped especially in a place where civilization was still trying to gain a foothold. The town was highly unusual in the fact that it had both a saloon and an inn. Usually the saloon served both purposes. In this case, however, the inn was an upscale version of the saloon with no bar, nicer food, and much calmer atmosphere. It catered to the family friendly and more religious folk. And … it was on the far end of town from the saloon. It was run by a woman named Alice.

The downside was that being so upscale Josey couldn’t find a card game there unless high rollers came into town for a high stakes poker game. She was good, but she wasn’t THAT good. And the way her luck ran, she’d probably get shot for winning too much.

Now the man before had a single strike against him. He had what was clearly a daughter - far too young to be a mail order bride. At least she certainly hoped so. No, the pre-teen’s manners practically confirmed she was a daughter. The man was a rancher. That was a good cut above cowboy. What Josey had really noticed was the man’s figure. Ruggedly handsome. He had that military cut to him, hewn from stone.

Several thoughts ran through Josey’s head when Alice Tucker brought the gentleman over. First, Alice was meddling. This was an obvious attempt to get the man standing there hitched. Second, the man was a widower. Had to be. It wouldn’t have been appropriate otherwise. Third, the man was more handsome up close than through a window. Fourth, she was probably blushing. Not many men could make her do that. Fifth, what the hell was fifth? Manners? Proper introductions? Oh wait, those had just been covered.

The answer came to her and her accent slipped again. “Oh no, no trouble. Please. There is room. I just like the table near the window. Let’s me watch the town grow - and my school. Already broke ground. Should be up within a month, two at most.” She turned to the girl. “Madeline, I am Josey Smith. I will be the school teacher.” She turned back to Devlin. “And you I gather are a rancher, but I didn’t catch of which ranch. I am afraid I am still very new here in town. So I don’t know everyone yet. I do gather that you are not from the Silver T.” Her tone was acidic. “I met some of that lot. Not so well mannered.”

Josey had three plates in front of her that had once contained food. Upon arrival in town she had been thinner than usual. As well as she knew how to survive, she had discovered that food in the wild here was scarce. Oh she had found plenty to eat. Indeed, it was probably talk of the town that a woman from back east had survived alone across the harsh terrain and was barely the worse for wear.

Her hair had got the worst of it. With the only barber in town being the doctor, she had yet to get anything done to it. She simply didn’t like the man. And she was pretty sure he didn’t like her. It was probably her education. Odds were it was the lack of his. If the man lacked a shop, he’d probably be a snake oil salesman.

“I fear I must apologize for my appearance. I lost some of my personal supplies to my mule panicking from gunshots. And I have yet to get my hair cared for. I do believe that this is the place where the Lord’s servants tried to sweep all the dust of Creation under the carpet - then dropped the carpet when he showed back up and blew half the dust about.”

Devlin Landry nodded politely. “I’ll make allowances.” He wasn’t above noticing Josie’s figure, though he was still very much a widower. He was more curious how Madeline would interact. Normally he wouldn’t have allowed Madeline to bother the woman, but this time he needed to make allowances for that as well. “I understand you are building a school. Why here? This is a rather out of the way place.”

Madeline had been fiddling with a green stone she had picked up on the last cattle drive. That drive had not gone well. More to the point, Devlin had finally realized that Madeline was starting to grow up. And she was lacking in the education of how to behave as a proper lady. He had had Elma help a little, but Madeline gave the woman so much grief. Madeline had been showing the stone to Gus. But somehow Josie got the feeling that Devlin didn’t approve.

Josie’s next move was taking a chance. “What do you have there? May I?” S he reached out.

Madeline ducked her head down shyly. She did NOT like the woman, who reminded her all too much of Elma. And yet, there was a little something different about her. “I found it. Sometimes I find arrowheads.” Hesitantly, as if afraid Josie would take it away and never return it, she showed it to the woman.

“Aventurine, I think,” Josey commented. She looked directly at Madeline. She allowed her accent to become a little more prominent. “”The rock. Rather uncommon in these parts. A green variety like that is most common in India - near Mysore or Chennai. It is quite commonly used there for artworks and for the finest pieces, even jewelry. Your piece would likely be used for a small carving or possibly a modest piece of jewelry. I could be wrong. It is very similar to a few other minerals. But those have much the same uses and values.”

Josey looked back to Devlin. “My family was in mining. Coal. I learned a little about the family business. I even once disguised myself as a young worker, a rookie miner and went in. I made it about a week before I was discovered. My father was furious. My mother actually fainted. But she blamed him. I was at least able to keep my father from firing anyone - except me - over the matter. But I did learn a few things.

“For one, a lady is NOT cut out for that kind of work. That is how I got caught. I fainted from sheer exhaustion. I simply lacked the muscles for the work. My father eventually forgave me - about a week later - after I explained all that to him. But I also told him I wanted to learn everything about the business - from the ground up. Mother didn’t approve, but Father agreed - with strict conditions. The first rule was - “ Josey deepened her voice a little to imitate a man - “No more scandals.” Josey looked wistful. “I agreed. But I did get to go back to the mine for inspections - with my father present. But to be perfectly honest, every time I did, I was washing coal dust out of everything for a week. So for the most part I concentrated on the business and science.

“I would imagine that ranching is much the same.” She looked back to Devlin. “My apologies, Mr Landry. I didn’t mean to ignore your question. It is just that I am quite fond of geology. Astronomy too. Lots of -ologies and -ories. Why here? Because here is exactly as you described - an out of the way place. I am afraid I was pursued all the way from Europe by a gentleman named Jonathan Whitmore who did not know what the word No meant. He had charmed my father into thinking he could turn the family business into a dynasty with his money. Jonathan went so far as to hire the Pinkertons to come after me on false pretenses accusing me of grand theft. It was a jewelled necklace he gave me as a gift in a vain attempt to patch what he thought was a relationship.” Josie glanced at Madeline. “Not all men are like that.”

Josie looked back to Devlin. “He refused to take it back, so I did the only thing left to do. I left for America. How does it go? Tired, Hungry, Poor? I believe I was the first one with that necklace. I traded it for a horse - Anthracite. It was worth enough to buy an estate or a dozen schools, but I still think I got the better end of the deal.”

Realizing she was still holding Madeline’s rock, she handed it back. “Perhaps you could do me a small favor? Anthracite, my faithful steed, has earned an extra apple.” She pulled out a coin. “If your father doesn’t object, could you run back over to the Trading Post and get him an apple? The change is yours.” The next part of her story was for Devlin’s ears only.

“Jonathan and the Pinkertons tracked me down in a town in Texas called Redwood. Thanks to a kind former Texas Ranger named Bill, I managed to get away. Perhaps I should tell you how it went down. Though it involved a saloon, gambling and - considering they laughed when I asked for tea - spirits. I fear I was not on my best behavior.”

Spoiler: ”Josey’s Story”

Bill was grinning from ear to ear - a little nervous - as Josie raked in another pot. The other men at the table were grumbling about too much damned beginner’s luck. Josie was taking them for everything they had. But she mollified them by thanking them for their contributions to the future of their children - which just earned her more dirty glares. Finally, a couple of the men stood up and pronounced that the future of their children as doctors, lawyers or well-to-do businessmen was well assured.

That was about when a new face entered the saloon. This one was a man who had city slicker written all over him. The cost of his clothing alone would have fed the families of half the men in the place for a month. And he was accompanied by a pair of very serious looking gunmen. At least the fool didn't travel alone - one might have thought. This wasn't exactly true. The gunmen had thought of this. They were detectives of the newly founded Pinkerton Agency. The city slicker was none other than Jonathan Whittemore, son and heir to a family fortune made in banking and investments.

Of course Josie hadn't had the good sense not to keep her back to the front of the saloon. She had had Bill watching that for her. Bill saw the look of purpose on Jonathan’s face and stood to meet the man’s approach. One of the Pinkertons went to draw on Bill and found a Colt Paterson aimed at his face before he could even clear a weapon from its holster. Bill WAS fast. The second man had tried to react, but found Bill had a second weapon. That, too, found its aim. The gunmen slowly eased weapons back where they belonged and moved their hands away hoping to settle the matter peaceably. Dead detectives didn't collect bounties.

Unfortunately Bill couldn't cover three people. So when it came to Jonathan, Josie was on her own. She had her gun and he knew by now that she could damned well use it. But he hoped she’d avoid that.

“JOSEPHINE!” Jonathan roared. “Where’s my money?!” Mention of money did raise a few faces from their routines as Josie stiffened in her seat, turning pale. Jonathan repeated himself. “Where’s the damned necklace?!”

Bill’s voice was low and menacing. “Lay one hand on the lady mister, and …” As exasperating as the woman was, Josie had begun to grow on him even in the few hours he had known her. She was quite the handful.

Jonathan paid Bill no attention, blinded by indignant anger. He reached out and spun Josie around bodily.

“I SPENT IT!” Josie yelled back as she faced her accuser. “I never wanted it in the first place. But you are too damned thick to get that through your head. I said NO!”

“SPENT IT?! On what? Your precious school? You could have bought an estate for what that was worth.” Jonathan was red faced with anger.

“No,” Josie yelled back. “A HORSE!” Josie was fuming mad now.

Jonathan was thunderstruck and furious. “A … “ Then the perfect idea came to him. “I see. Well then I guess I’ll make back a little bit of my fortune in glue...” He loomed menacingly.

That was the final straw. Josie hauled off and slammed a fist right into Jonathan’s nose, sending blood spraying. In a roar of rage, Jonathan backhanded Josie over the table scattering her winnings everywhere.

Bill might have protected Josie but hadn't been able to take his eyes off the Pinkertons. Both Pinkertons stared at his weapons. Now he saw the doubt in their faces. Clearly Jonathan hadn't been entirely honest with them. That gave Bill the edge he needed. He started to shake his head as his head jerked over at Jonathan. In his eyes was the question of whether the Pinkertons would restrain the enraged man or he’d have to.

Josie’s world was reeling. She had tried to order tea to drink at the saloon, but had been laughed at. So she had agreed to try something with alcohol. After trying a few different shot glasses with different beverages she had decided she liked the rum best. Of course, by then she had begun to feel the liquor affecting her senses. Now it impaired her judgement. In her anger and protectiveness of Anthracite, her pistol came out as she rolled off the table. And as she tried to stagger back to her feet it was pointing right at Jonathan’s face. She was furious. That stopped the fighting before it really got underway.

“Reach for the sky, Jonathan! Do it!” Josie screamed.

Now pale in the face of having his head blown off Jonathan did as he was told. Since when did Josephine carry a gun? The woman was no outlaw. His charges against her were trumped up. He’d have dropped them just as soon as she agreed to marry her. Too slowly he raised his hands.

“REACH!” Josie screamed even louder. That did it. As soon as Jonathan’s hands were fully raised she got to her feet and stepped forward. Her gun wasn’t even loaded. Bill hadn’t liked the idea of her shooting herself in the foot. Her voice became low and menacing. “You threatened my horse.”

With all her strength Josie brought a foot up between Jonathan Whittemore’s legs. Every man in the saloon felt a knee jerk reaction as Jonathan doubled over in pain. Then she flipped her pistol over in her hand and brought it down on the back of his head.

Bill nodded calmly at the Pinkerton men and again tilted his head toward Jonathan giving his unspoken permission to hold the man which they did quickly, making it a point to restrain Jonathan’s gun hand.

Josie turned her back on all three and reached out to take her winnings - not all of it. She left half on the table and told the men to split it. She handed part to the barmaid for the mess.

Bill spoke with a voice from the grave. “You had best make yourself scarce Ms Smith. I can keep an eye on them while you git.”

“And so I got.” She made no comment on Bill’s grammar. “I changed my name once more, this time to Smith. It sounds more American. My full name is Lady Josephine Anne Pennington. My father would be Sir Walter. And there you have it. The story of how I came to be here. And you have no idea what a relief it is to finally tell some the truth for a change.”

shadowdude505 Goonfire