Chapter Text
✦CHAPTER ONE✦
Dust lifted from the dry land as hooves thundered from the west. Soon, a dark silhouette of the rider appeared on the horizon, contrasting the copper glow of the sky. The rider slowed the horse down to a trot as they entered the dusty street. Sweat foamed over the bay’s flanks from the merciless heat as it halted in front of a tall building.
The town of Silver Creek, basking in the light of the setting sun, was bustling with parked wagons. There was a queue in front of the weathered general store, travelers wanting to purchase the goods before setting out to the wilderness. The rider dismounted and reached up to remove the horse’s load, writhing and wriggling in resistance. The newcomer dumped the living prize into the dust, earning filthy curses from the man before dragging him up the stairs to the entrance of the building. The door creaked, and the job was done.
“My eyes deceive me if that isn't the infamous Colt Graves in the flesh. You are wanted for murder, mister,” the older man said, sitting behind his desk with his dusty booted legs sprawled across it.
The smoke of his cigar swirled around the room.
The man on the floor hissed, “You are lucky this time, Sheriff. But I’m telling you I will be out of jail as soon as you turn your back to me.” The captive spat on the ground. “You ran out of your boys and had to send a gal after me?”
Sheriff just laughed and put the bound outlaw behind bars.
“My bounty, sir,” demanded the rough voice of the woman. The Sheriff reached into one of the drawers and placed three fifty-dollar bills into her hand.
“You did well, Miss Scarlet Carter. This one was a thorn in the side. The residents of Silver Creek are grateful for your brave deeds. Ain’t no easy task to bring such a man to justice, especially for a pretty little gal like you.” The old man winked, and the bruised woman turned away in disgust.
The saloon was packed with drunk men and enraged gamblers. She knew some of them from her previous adventures.
Sam Granger, son of the rancher whose cattle she used to guard, was engaged in a game of poker with his buddies. Old Joe, a gunslinger who gave up gunfights for raising horses, was drunkenly shouting something at his brother Jed, who was known for having a family in Silver Creek and down in Cactus Flats, which was a two-day ride away.
She pulled her beaten-up hat down to her face. Although she wasn’t exactly a famous person, she hated being recognized by drunk fellers in saloons. They usually belittled her or tried to get her into their beds to teach her what a woman’s real job was.
Confidently, she made her way to the polished wooden counter. A strong arm grabbed her, and she could smell liquor on the man’s breath: “Where are you going, sweetheart? Why be in such a hurry when you could spend the evening with us?" He stroked her hair and tried to kiss her neck: “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. How much for a night?” In anger, she pushed him away roughly. He never expected any resistance, so the push took him off guard. The drunkard stumbled back and hit the bench.
All of his companions burst into laughter: “Leave her, Buck. That’s one dangerous cougar.” The man was so deep into his bottle of brandy that he didn’t even realize what happened. He scrambled from the floor and returned to his snorting friends, embarrassed.
With all eyes on her, she ordered a shot of whiskey, only to be met with the barkeep’s mocking smile.
“The brothel is across the street, miss.”
“I ordered a drink.”
“Only a woman with a tarnished reputation would order a drink here. I assumed you were too drunk to know a bar from a whorehouse.”
“Listen here, buddy. I want my whiskey, and I will pay for it. My reputation doesn’t concern you.”
She threw the coins on the counter and shortly after finally got her drink. She went to the dark corner where she could drink in peace. Usually Scarlet avoided saloons because of such incidents, but a week of chasing Colt Graves left her thirsty for liquor.
As she brooded in the dark, her eyes fell on a strange feller a few tables across. His hat was shielding his face, and only a few copper hairs poked from underneath it. The man’s clothes were almost too big on his thin body, the sleeves of his shirt pulled up so they didn’t drag over his hands. In the dim light of the saloon, she could see dark bruises on his arms and hands.
The strange figure caught her gaze. His pale face contrasted with the dark shiner around his left eye. She felt pity for the man, as she was all bruised herself. Surviving in the Wild West wasn’t easy; every day was a battle. As she thought about her hardships, the man walked over to her.
He wasn’t drinking anything; perhaps he was searching for something. Her sharp eye sensed a certain elegance to his walk. He didn’t stride rashly; his step was careful and planned. He intrigued her. As soon as he sat down at her table, she could see his injuries were way worse than they appeared from a distance.
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody recognized him and whispered to her,
“Come with me, madam. Please, I cannot be discovered here.” Her piercing gaze softened, for she had discovered his secret in the soft features and polite words. Chugging down the last of her whiskey, she followed him outside.
The stranger dragged her to a dark alley two buildings away from the saloon. In the darkness, he took his hat off, revealing a long red braid and soft feminine features. That didn’t surprise Scarlet, who knew some women disguised as men to survive. It was sort of what she did. She always dressed in a man’s clothes and made her voice lower when doing her job.
The woman whispered, “I am Sally. Sally Grant. You need to help me.”
The name sounded familiar, and her mind returned to the Sheriff’s office.
“You are a criminal. Aren’t you wanted for stabbing an official?”
Sally’s face paled, and she spoke with a trembling voice: “That was self-defense. Please, hear me out.”
Scarlet nodded, and the woman started explaining: “I worked as a soiled dove for years. It’s a miserable life, but at least you have a roof over your head and meals to warm your stomach. I took everything they put my way with tolerance. I was alone and frightened, in the arms of strangers who treated me like property. And I pushed through. Every day I survived was a win.” Then her eyes flashed with fury.
“A week ago I had a vile client. He was so rough and mean a feller that I suffered more than all my life combined. He experienced such joy from hurting and harming a defenseless being.” She pointed to her face and arms, littered with nasty bruised and half-healed scratches. “I was afraid for my life. He talked about killing me with a smug little smirk on his face. He tried to strangle me like a rope strangles a hanged man. I reacted with panic and impulsively grabbed the razor I had hidden under my pillow. I did stab him in the arm, and I don’t regret it in the slightest.” She paused and unclenched her fists. “He let go of me, and I ran. I left all my belongings behind and fled my job.”
She continued: “That… beast was a relative of the Sheriff. I could never get justice if I pleaded with the Law. Now I’m being pursued by the men who should have been just. But justice in this town is corrupted. I don’t have a home, and I’m starving. Please help me leave this town. I don’t have any provisions; these clothes I stole from the drying line of one of the houses. I know that without food and a good horse, I won’t survive the wilderness.” Sally’s pleading eyes fixated on Scarlet.
“I have a job to do. I am earning my own bread, and it’s hard enough to provide for myself.”
“Yesterday I snuck to the Sheriff’s office window. He is returning home to Dusthaven, almost pleased with himself. I will get my revenge against this devil who ruined my life if you help me or not. I will hunt him down, and he will suffer for his sins. I just need some money and a gunslinger. I promise I will pay you back as soon as I find work again in some other town. Please, nobody else will help me.”
Sally almost shouted her words, her beaten face expressing desperation. Scarlet knew that the world they were living in was a man’s world. Men got away with injustice all the time. The rules were different for women. They had to get justice into their own hands, for no man would avenge a woman, especially not a lady of the night. But were working girls not people just like they were? Were they not trying to survive the harsh frontier just the same as men? This is a man’s world, Scarlet concluded. That’s why women need to stick together.
“Alright, I’ll help you. Meet me behind the general store tomorrow two hours before dawn. I will get us provisions and another horse.”