| OUT HERE ALL NIGHT

[Nancy Mercer]

On the back of a bay Quarter Horse, the thin mental patient rode. A western hat was placed on her head, keeping the blond locks from fluttering into her face and the sun out of her eyes. It wasn't doing much for her, though, as she still was simply exhausted from being in the heat. She'd spent quite enough time on the back of the horse, a couple weeks despite stopping here and there for food and shelter, and was beginning to miss civilization. She wore a pair of over-sized denim blue jeans and a baggy black sleeveless shirt she'd looted from the same place she'd stolen the horse - both pieces of some cowboy's wardrobe but she didn't really mind.The sun was shining brightly upon her light skin and she regretted not taking the time to get something with sleeves.

Long before she saw the beginnings of a forest, she had been breathing through her mouth, panting more like. The sight of the forest, shade in any form, was so beautiful. As she entered the forest, she leaned back and laid on her horse. It would've been an odd sight to see had anyone saw it - a woman in men's clothing laying on a walking horse. The shade of the forest allowed her to find comfort, despite the horse's uncomfortable back against her own causing issues, and soon she found herself drifting in and out of sleep.

At first, this horse had been a bit jumpy, perhaps because it knew she was not it's owner, but it had long since grown accustomed to Nancy and had proven itself to be worth stealing. It had went days without water, right along with Nancy, without giving up. Out of genuine respect for the creature, she would make water for it the first priority when she reached a town. But things looked bleak to her, as they'd been in the desert for days and were now in a forest. Where was any civilization?

Nancy awoke within thirty minutes or so, with a terrible case of cotton mouth and more fatigued than previously thought. Without even having the chance looking around her, she slid off the horse and fell to the dirty forest floor. Without moving the rest of her body, she turned her head to see her horse, and let out a dry command. "Stop." It had taken hour to learn what the horse knew and didn't know, and she had spent countless moments going through mental lists of commands, until she came upon the ones that worked. As the mare came to a halt, she laid her head back on the ground and closed her eyes. That was until she heard leaves crumbling nearby. Forcing herself to her feet, she studied her surroundings.

[Lewt McConnell]

no one here to tell you about the depth of the water

or the trouble that your in.

Lewton’s intoxication from the night before had been absurd. The pain-staking, piercing head ache from that morning had nearly caused him to go mad. Those long nights at the Blackbird Saloon were unforgettable. The long hours drinking each amber drop of whiskey. Taking in the beauty of each exquisite new female that had showed their presence. Celebrating the harsh, grueling hours out in the sun. So much so that the money the Les Coureur Enfers would earn (steal) would almost be gone. Each day was like living a constant celebration for the man. Perhaps, he was a bad man. Fulfilled in every aspect of greed, lust, and thrill. However, he had already accepted it.

He knew he was going to be a outlaw before those who knew him best did. In his youth, he had seen them around. Men with six-shooters, sawed-off shotguns, and mean looks. It seemed no matter how much his family warned him to stay away; he was intrigued to introduce himself. His oldest brother, Chester, became a crooked rancher (stealing from local trains because of his extreme detest). Ezekiel became a opium bootlegger. His youngest brother, Kid, becoming one of his own gang members. It ran in the family.

Lewton McConnell’s strong headache had slowly dispersed as the day wore on. It seemed the bittersweet water of the desert always cured those types of daunting headaches. On such a afternoon, Lewton had no particular direction. The sun’s strong heat left Lewton with a strong desire to retreat into the coolness of the shade.

His decision had led him to the depths of the dead forest. Although, little life surrounded the premises; it still offered a cooler temperature than the open desert. His bay mustang wandered the rubble of dry branches as he headed down several steep inclinations.

At first Lewton did not notice the fair haired woman lying upon the ground. However, as he emerged upon a tall inclination he pulled back on his reins. He watched solemnly. His steel blue eyes observed the female with attentiveness. It wasn’t often he saw a woman dressed in men’s clothing. He tilted his head to the side, blonde locks falling about his broad shoulder. “Y’all right, ma’am. ‘er ya just restin’?” He pried in a friendly tone. His Kansas drawl heavily enunciated.

[Nancy Mercer]

Using what energy she had left, the woman pulled herself off the ground and didn't bother to wipe the dirt splotches from her face as she looked at the man mounted on the horse in front of her. Nancy bent over quickly to grab her hat, which had fallen when she'd slipped off her horse, and placed it atop her head. "I'd be a lot better if I could find some water in this goddamn hellhole." If her words weren't a big enough proclamation of her bitterness, the grimace on her face was.

For a moment, fear flickered behind her eyes. What if this man was the law? What if he'd come to take her back? But the fear vanished as soon as it had appeared. Should he make any move toward arresting her, she'd just have to do what she had to do to get away. In all honesty, though, that meant being on the run for a lot longer and she knew then that she wouldn't get far - the town he'd come from would be the place she had to go. It was a must.

"Seein' as I'm dyin' o' thirst ova here, why don' cha escort my happy little ass to town?" It wasn't so much a question as it was an insult to his character for not having offered yet. Nancy sauntered over to her horse and hopped on. Not so much effortlessly or gracefully, but with a certain nonchalance. She grabbed the reins and turned the horse to be parallel with is. If he was the law, this would at least even her chances of fleeing. If he was just a regular ol' nobody, then he was taking her to town. Either way, she was getting there.

Without giving him much time to answer, she tilted her head slightly at him and spoke. "So which way we goin', cowboy?" She spoke with a very small grin, her attempt at being friendly. After all, she needed to find food and water as soon a possible, some shelter would be nice too. Sleeping without blankets or anything to shield her face from insects had proven to be quite the challenge, despite her exhaustion. Thoughts of a comfy bed at the local inn and a cool drink of water seemed to alleviate her fatigue momentarily.

[Lewt McConnell]

no one here to tell you about the depth of the water

or the trouble that your in.

For a moment, Lewton was taken aback by the sea jargons she used. Her rich linguistic cursing was unlike any woman. He could see now, she was unlike any woman. Her expression was haughty (yet beautiful), and her words were sharp and demanding. Lewton leisurely leaned back in his saddle as he examined her features. A jovial smile appeared across his plush lips as she jumped on her horse without hesitation. A woman. A traveler, vagabond? He thought solemnly to himself as he thought over what she could have been. Perhaps, a woman outlaw. He had heard of them. It seemed they were a rare around Del Fuego.

“Certainly, cowgirl.” He winked as he spoke. His drawl seemingly echoing through the depths of the dead forest. “Why, darlin’. I ‘pose I have a bit of water in this ‘ol canteen of mine. Here ya go. When we get to town I’ll buy ya a drink, Angel. What ya like? Whiskey, rum, tequilla, ale?” Lewton tossed the canteen towards the young woman. His eyes watching her flaxen hair billow slightly in the dry breeze.

“I reckon we should go, this place ain’t the best to be venturin’ around this area, now.” Lewton recollected the instances he had four angry Apaches deep in the dead forest. It had been apparent at the time he was outnumbered, and his best objective was to flee. Fortunately, Lewton had lived amongst Kiowa natives for a couple of years. In some aspects, he knew how some of them thought about whites.

He lightly snapped the leather reins to his bay horse. The horse slowly made his way up a steep inclination. His long blonde hair billowing softly behind him. “Say, what’s a pretty lady like you way the hell out here?” He pried. Knowing she could very well reject answering his question. He pursed his lips momentarily as he looked over his shoulder at the slender woman.

“Anyways, the name is Lewton. Ya can call me Lewt, of course. And your name, cowgirl? I reckon it ain’t make a difference. I ain’t the best man for name ’memberin.” He looked to his side now as the woman and her horse pulled up along side of him. “I‘d say, I do need a drink ‘er two.”

[Nancy Mercer]

She grabbed the canteen, hastily, and it would become apparent to him that she hadn't seen a drop of water in days as she gulped at the lukewarm liquid. Without particularly meaning to but not particularly caring, she drank all the water in the canteen and then used her arm to wipe away the drippings on her chin. "I suppose I should thank ya. And, I ain't no fuckin' angel, so I'd appreciate if you'd hold your tongue when ya think about callin' me it again." It was obvious she was sour over being called "Angel" but she moved on, letting it slide this one time. Her verbal assaults and cursing were mostly things she'd learned from her father when he was in a drunken stupor. "Some whiskey would be nice, as long as I had Sarsparilla to chase it with." While she was partial to drinking, her body hadn't accustomed to the burn that came along with such hard liquor. As long as she had something to put down after it, she was fine. As long as it wasn't beer, that is. Beer mixed with hard liquor made her especially sick.

She handed the canteen back and looked down at her horse. "Honestly, this horse needs more water than I do. She deserves it." They'd been through a lot and by the crazed look in her eyes - brought on by flashbacks of her escape - he surely knew it.

“I reckon we should go, this place ain’t the best to be venturin’ around this area, now.”

That could only mean this was Indian territory. Nancy had known that she ran the risk of running into a group of these savages but she really had no other choice than to run this way. After all, what man in their right mind would venture into Indian land just to capture an escaped mental patient? Now that she was with this man, she felt somewhat at ease, knowing that he would lead her away from the savages and into civilization. Without so much as a shrug in response, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, thinking of the victory she was so close to accomplishing.

As he pried more into why she would be crazy enough to venture out here, she quickly snapped back into survival mode. The truth was she'd gotten herself into a hole heap of trouble, but he would not find out about that unless it benefited her in any way. "If you ain't the law, it's none o' your damn business. And even if you are the law, it still ain't your business." Her quips weren't going to make it easier on her, but privacy and freedom were important enough to her to risk being on the run again.

As he allowed her to catch up to him, she looked ahead, not really caring if he looked at her or not. "You can call me Nancy, Lewt." When he mentioned a drink, she nodded with a smirk and a small laugh. "Well, wha'cha waitin' for?" Furrowing her brows, she tilted her head at him in waiting.

[Lewt McConnell]

no one here to tell you about the depth of the water

or the trouble that your in.

Lewton chuckled at her forbidding, saucy words. His bay horse took strode along side of Nancy’s quarter horse. For moments, he watched her with a sense of curiosity. Watched how the coarse words streamed fluently from her lips. A smile was pronounced upon his lips. “Oh, I see. Your a tough one, am I wrong? That’s somethin’ ya ought to get used to, cowgirl. I prefer nicknames.” His brows rose as he spoke confidently. What was the worst thing she could do, kill him? Lewton had two silver ‘67 Winchesters tucked away in their leather holsters. However, he wasn’t one to fight a lady. Especially one that had caught his eye. “Oh, good ol’ Sarsaparilla. I’m sure we can fin’ ya just that. When I was a youngin’, back in Kansas... The Kiowa tribe that took me an’ my family captive would Sarsaparilla as a type of medicine for achin’ joints. Can ya believe that? Achin’ joints? An’ all that time I though’ it was a delicious drink.”

Lewton took a deep breathe at the foreign thoughts of the Kiowa natives that killed his father and took his family captive. Meta became one of them and since he hadn’t heard from his older sister in years. Lewt looked hesitantly back at the young woman that rode nearby. His eyes slowly observed her as she spoke, noticing the stimulated look in her eyes.

As they rode, dead branches and leaves underneath of them broke into pieces underneath the horses hooves. Beams of light sprawled through the gaps between trees. He could tell by the number of trees that were dwindling, soon they would make their way out into the depths of the dry desert. “My, my. Why in the world would a fella like me be a law? I ain’t lookin’ like the law. Why, I steal for a livin’. My gang steals for a livin’. ‘round here we don’ take a likin’ to the goddamned law.” He frowned at the absurd thought of him being a law. He had never in his entire life envisioned himself being any sort of a ‘honorable’ man.

It was soon after a familiar smile appeared on his face. He shook his head, blonde hair tossing about. “What am I waitin’ for? You, to hurry your little self up.” He smirked, tauntingly.

--(sorry if it isn't that long!)

[Nancy Mercer]

Women with a mouth on them like her's weren't common... well, anywhere. It was pretty much forbidden for a lady to swear so openly and, more importantly, to take God's name in vain. Despite the disapproval from townspeople, she continued in her cursing without putting so much as a thought towards halting. "I never said ya couldn't call me a nickname, but if you insist on callin' me Angel, it won't be good for ya." The woman looked at him, her brows furrowed. For a moment, she studied his features and then returned her gaze to the land in front of her. "Hmm, that's interestin'. Those Indians don't make sense." Not that she did, either. She didn't remark about his being captured by the Kiowa tribe in Kansas. It had become easier for her not to know what was going on in other's personal lives.

Nancy didn't concern herself much with other's histories or feelings. Many people in the west had experienced their fair share of trauma and rehashing old memories only brought up negative feelings. And boy, did she hate seein' a grown man cry if she wasn't the cause. This hadn't always been the story for Nancy Mercer. At a young age, she'd been caring and had tried to console others. But after all the traumatic experiences she'd been through, something had snapped in her brain and a disconnect was visible between her and the outside world. She'd grown cold and empty.

When the trees began to appear sparsely, she assumed they were close to town. As he frowned, she shook her head. "What makes ya think I should believe you? Ya don't exactly know me and ya just mentioned your gang. No criminal would put that out in the open... to a stranger, nonetheless." Sure, his language wasn't exactly common among gentlemen, but that meant nothing to her.

As he taunted her, she shook her head. "How 'bout you just lead the way and I try my damnedest not to, y'know, die." She flashed a small smirk.

[No problem, hope mine's not too short either!]

[Lewt McConnell]

no one here to tell you about the depth of the water

or the trouble that your in.

Lewton watched Nancy with a particular interest sparking within his cornflower blue eyes. In the many aspects that almost each man had in common, one was of a woman with manners. To Lewton McConnell he had a curiosity of this woman’s vulgar words, and heathen mannerisms. As they rode, he watched her long strawberry blonde hair billow lightly behind her. His eyes briefly sculpting down her slender dusted torso. Abruptly, a contented smile formed upon his lips. He cleared his parched throat before responding to her snappy reply. “How intriguin’. Really, darlin’. Ya can’t tell me to not do something...or I’ll just be yearnin’ to do it.” He flashed her a mischievous smile followed by a demonstrative wink. He belted out a long, dry laugh shaking his tawny locks from side to side. He watched the distance ahead momentarily, realizing that they would soon break free into the open desert air.

He often preferred to stay away from the depths of the dead forest. Superstitions were still prominent in his mind. Indian superstitions that was. He knew exactly how strategic they could be. Apache’s especially. He tossed his head back and breathed in the dehydrated air. Carefully searching the corners of the woods, watching as the wind billowed the branches of the few trees and dead shrubs. A frown dissolved his features promptly. A short silence had fallen between the two strangers. Lewton could hear nothing but the loud crunching of gravel underneath both of the horses hooves.

It wasn’t long before her acidic words were uttered again. He tilted his head to his left side as he listened carefully. He could know see that she had hardly a sense of trust for him. It made complete sense. He was a estranged outlaw, and she was...an outlaw, or so it seemed. Outlaws did not trust easily. Except for Lewton. “No reason to be unkind, darlin’. Ya don’t gotta believe me, frankly I don’t give a shit. Its up to you who you trust or who you don’. However, I got a pretty alrigh’ feelin’ bout you...believe it or not. I’d say, I could even trust ya.”

Lewton scowled at Nancy before shaking his head. “Or do you have reason to believe I’m the law...out for your arrest?” He begun to laugh once again this time throwing his head back. “Now, now don’t be sour. I’ll buy ya a drink when we get into town. An’ I’ll even introduce ya to the boys. Forgive them if they take a likin’ to ya. Shoot, you are very lovely. But don‘t flatter yourself” Lewton teased.

[Nancy Mercer]

“How intriguin’. Really, darlin’. Ya can’t tell me to not do something...or I’ll just be yearnin’ to do it.”

At his laugh afterwards, she tilted her head to the side and smirked. She shook her head and let the smirk become a smile. Nancy wasn't shy but she wasn't much of a conversationalist, in that half the time she didn't know what to say. Without speaking for a few moments, she watched the trail ahead, looking out in the woods from time to time and back at him. He was a handsome man and she wouldn't deny that.

When he mentioned her distrust and the law, she felt her features freeze. After a moment, she let it sink it he was merely joking and she sighed. "Well I suppose if ya can trust me, I can trust you." She cleared her dry throat. "If ya couldn't guess, I am an outlaw. For instance, this horse, these clothes, this hat, were all stolen." She wasn't extremely keen on breaking to him the news of her escaping from a mental institute. But, she felt it was something he'd want to know. "My dad locked me away in an asylum, for a bullshit reason, and I broke out when it flooded." For a moment, she left the conversation like that, not sure how to finish it.

She decided to start off on his teasing comments. With a grin, she chuckled. "But enough about me, that drink sounds great and I'm just dyin' to meet the gang." Nancy wasn't about to flatter herself, she knew she must've looked like some boy in those clothes and her hair wasn't exactly perfect. The hat atop it helped prevent tangling, but it sure could use a good brushing. Part of being in a crowded place made her a little anxious but at the same time, she wasn't adverse to getting drunk with them. She found it extremely easy to become comfortable and down-right friendly when drunk or in the process of drinking.

[Lewt McConnell]

no one here to tell you about the depth of the water

or the trouble that your in.

Lewton took a freshly rolled cigarette from it’s tin box inside of his breast pocket and lit it with a match. The heavy desert sun had begun to beat down upon the individuals and Lewt could feel perspiration forming upon both temples. His long hair nestled cozily about his shoulders; the heat was strong. In the depths of the dead forest it had seemed he had forgotten the intensity of the heat because of how elevated it was, how cool it kept. The air was parched out here in the long, lonely stretch of desert land. However, it had seemed it was what Lewton knew best.

He exhaled a flood of light gray smoke as she spoke. “Well, I reckon this is a splendid start to a friendship. Correct me if I’m wrong.” He offered with a gesture of his hand the hand rolled cigarrette to Nancy. “I figured so. You didn’t look like a regular ‘Belle Donna’ ’round these parts. Hell, I don’ blame ya for choosin’ the path of thievery. Ain’t nothin’ like the thrill of doin’ wrong.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly after his last comment. Watching as the horizon begun to sculpt out the familiar shape of Del Fuego.

He settled back into the saddle of the bay horse as he listened to her speak of her time in the asylum. She was succinct as she spoke. It was upon sudden realization that he knew how estranged it was to talk about unsettling memories. Lewton knew very well himself. “Is that so? Wha’ fools, thinkin’ they could lock a bright young woman like yourself away.” He paused momentarily as he collected his thoughts. “Hell, it’s a good thin’ ya escaped. Those places truly don’ know how to take care of human beings.”

Del Fuego was in full view now. He recognized the familiar fence outlining the Gallows, with the cemetery just feet away. Lewton inhaled the stagnant air of town. “Good lord, ain’t ya excited?” He dug his heels into his horses sides, causing the bay to stride into a slow gallop.

By the time they had reached the front of the Blackbird Saloon, Lewton eagerly grabbed the reins of both Nancy and his horse and tied them up to the post. He made his way quickly through the familiar swinging doors and greeted the bartender by taking his order. “Get me a good ol’ bottle of whisky. An’ that Sarsaparilla ya got in the back. Thanks.” He tossed several tarnished coins amongst the cherry wood bar. Turning back to Nancy he offered her a chair at a small table nearby the dusty windows of the saloon.

[Nancy Mercer]

As he outstretched his arm, offering the cigarette to her, she took it and drew from it. She let the toxic smoke fill her lungs, inviting in death and his friends with little to no thought to the consequences. For a moment, she held it in before blowing it out of her mouth. It seemed to calm her but at the same time, it made her stomach ache. Cigarettes did that to her when she hadn't eaten in a while. She handed it back to him and nodded in thanks. "I do believe it is." She thought a moment about the path in life she'd chosen and smiled. "Livin' life right just ain't for me." Soon a town came into view and she felt relief embrace her.

"They really don't. They pretty much sit ya in there, tell ya you're some kind o' possessed, and punish you. It's a fool's game." Nancy was just happy she got out before they did any real damage to her. She'd heard horror stories about the doctors drilling holes into patient's brains in an attempt to alter their way of thinking. The thought of not being able to be herself anymore terrified her and she felt a bit sorry for the people that had to go through it. Part of her couldn't grasp how people allowed it to happen.

His eagerness was refreshing and she grinned widely. "Ya bet your sweet ass, I am." She hopped off her horse, feeling a sudden surge of energy at the anticipation of getting treated to a drink. Lewt tied the horses up and she awaited him to lead her into the saloon. As he walked through and remembered to get some Sarsaparilla, she felt a tinge of warmth toward him. Soon enough, he offered her a chair and she took her seat at the table. With a small grin, she thanked him. "I appreciate it."

[Lewt McConnell]

no one here to tell you about the depth of the water

or the trouble that your in.

After the freshly rolled cigarette had burned out, he tossed it easily into a nearby spittoon. As he leaned back into the stiff wood chair his light cornflower eyes easily explored the open space of the Saloon. He thought upon her previous words and they sullenly haunted him momentarily. “Brave, nonetheless. Ain’t everyday you meet a escapee of those damned asylums.” He gave her a respectable nod, his long blonde locks wavering about his head as he did so. “Darlin’ I couldn’t imagine such a experience. If you’d ask for revenge, I’d be right by your side a helping’.” He nodded his head matter-of-factly, with his bright blue eyes locking into Nancy’s deep gaze. She seemed to him at that moment that her mind was all there. However, he knew that some were very good at holding in such tormenting secrets.

It was not long before a busty saloon woman arrived with a polished silver platter with their whiskey, sarsaparilla, and shot glasses upon it. Delicately, the woman served their drinks by pouring the both of them a short glass of whiskey. “Ain’t ya hungry?” He peered up curiously at Nancy. “Hell who knows how long you been out in them woods. I would be obliged to buy you a meal.” Lewton’s features pronounced a questionable gaze.

Without another word he took a swig of the rich Irish whiskey. He exhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair, feeling the alcohol unwinding his tense muscles. It had certainly been a long day. “Don’t be shy, pretty lady.” He teased gently, pushing the glass of sarsaparilla and whiskey towards her direction. “Let’s see what your made of.” He winked.

--(No worries! It was a good reply.)

[Nancy Mercer]

“Darlin’ I couldn’t imagine such a experience. If you’d ask for revenge, I’d be right by your side a helping’.”

If she hadn't liked the man before, she sure did now. She couldn't help the grin that came over her at this statement. For a short moment, she fantasized about the two taking the asylum in a flash of gunfire and it made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was like she saw him in a new light after that, not that she hadn't seen him as attractive before, but now he was doubly so. Leaning back in her chair, she relaxed, and turned her attention to the saloon girl walking toward them.

It didn't take a straight woman to notice the girl's bust but Nancy's eyes lingered a moment longer than the average woman's. She smirked and lamented over how she'd always wanted breasts like that. As a young girl, her sister would share secrets with her about how to get bigger breasts but none worked. As she grew into a young adult, she learned ot love them and realized they could've been a lot worse. Still, that woman was lucky. Nancy wouldn't have minded exploring her but it wasn't often that woman around these parts experimented with those of the same sex. It was just a fact of life. Still, Nancy had been pondering over a deep relationship with woman since she was a pre-teen.

The woman poured them short glasses of whiskey. When Lewt asked her if she was hungry, she let out a breath of relief and chuckled. "I am hungry, believe it or not. And I'd be more than happy to repay you for it." She grinned. Sexual favors weren't a big deal to her and were essentially an easy way to get valuables - such as food, money, etc.

She watched as he took a swig of his whiskey, observing the muscles in his neck as he swallowed. As he spoke, she grabbed the bottle of sarsaparilla and the shot glass and pulled them closer. Tilting her head, she grinned and took the shot glass in her right hand and the sarsaparilla in the other. "Bottom's up." Without hesitation, she swallowed it all then chased it with a little sarsaparilla. Leaning back, she exhaled and relaxed her body, allowing time for Lewt to take another shot.

[Lewt McConnell]

no one here to tell you about the depth of the water

or the trouble that your in.

It was strange the people he had found out in the outskirts of Del Fuego. Nancy, for instance had been one of the few surprise individuals he managed to stumble upon. Fortunately, she had been much kinder than the folks he met before. Others seemed to feel venerable out in the depths of isolation. This he could understand. Lewton had spent much of his life in the deepest parts of the desert. He knew the way the heat had gotten to him and it hadn’t been pleasant. When a stranger happened to appear from the midst of a mirage, he was never certain if they could be trusted. Most of them didn’t have good intentions. For it was the outlaws, gypsies, and gangs that roamed the desert. It was not a simple lifestyle. It required a win or kill attitude to get to a certain level.

Lewton loosened his jaw after he took another fiery shot of whisky. By his subtle smirk it was apparent he was enjoying himself. “Well, now. I ain’t sure where the boys ran off to. I’m sure you’ll meet them in time.” He announced, looking about the bustling saloon. Lewton drew the back of his hand across his brow, brushing the perspiration off. He exhaled a deep breath as he looked back into Nancy’s obscure gaze. She was certainly a looker. Her loose strawberry blonde hair, mischievous eyes, and puckered lips drew his attention. He knew that he wouldn’t mind spending time with her in the bedroom, however, he was unused to a woman outlaw. He wasn’t certain if she would make love to him or rob him point blank.

“Darlin’, Pricilla. Get this pretty lil’ gal a pork chop meal, wit’ mashed potatoes, thank ya sweet stuff.” He nodded to a nearby Saloon maid as she walked briskly past him. The woman acknowledged him with a brief nod and then walked towards the back room. He looked back at Nancy. “I reckon you’ll like this meal. Ain’t no place, ain’t no folks make it better than this Saloon.” He nodded in a matter-of-fact manner as he poured both of them a drink of whisky.

He watched Nancy a moment before he took another shot, enjoying the burning fluids rush down his esophagus. He slammed the glass down on the table before speaking again. “Ain’t no need to repay me, unless ya so desire, pretty lady.” He winked before he ran his fingers through his tousled blonde hair. “Been a long day. Ain’t it? A little company sur’ is fine aft’a bein’ on the road for so long. I sure do like fine company such as yourself. Ya smart, an’ I like talkin’ to a smart, intriguing lady.”

“Forgive me, now. I do talk quite a lot.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I figure if their ain’t nothin’ else to do why not talk about nothing’.” He shrugged and pushed a lock from his face. “Now, tell me. Where ya from? I am curious.”