The sun bore down almost hard enough to set the train's steam back down upon it. The passengers inside were stuffy at best, and reminiscent of boiled vegetables in a tasteless stew. Yet the train huffed and puffed onward, kicking up flapping streams of sand from where it had settled on the track.

High up on the bluff, five horses and their five riders sat watching and sweating.

"Aw, hell, can't we take it now, Luke? I'm fixin' to sweat out my brain!" Lavender, the only woman, youngest, and quite possibly the least patient, complained. She swiped one gloved hand across her dirty brow, pushing damp strings of red hair out of the way.

"Settle down," Lucas, the eldest brother of the Smith Five and therefore the ring master, leaned forward in his saddle.

"We settle down too much longer an' that there train's gonna swoop right on by us!" Protested Levi, the youngest brother. He shifted impatiently where he sat, his fingers twitching as if he would have liked to have grabbed his canteen but hoped they'd be moving on faster than he could drink.

There was a pause for a grumble of ascension to pass through the group.

"Right," Lucas nodded slowly, as the third car of the train rumbled by, far below. "Y'all remember what the plan is?" There was a pause. Of course they all remember it, but no one wanted to waste time repeating it when Lucas would only do so himself. "We're only hittin' those last three cars. I'll latch onto that first 'un an' block off the door leadin' to the front. Leo an' Levi, you git that middle 'un. Lucien, Lav, you're in the back. Move fast, an' don't be usin' them guns 'lest ya have to. We play this right an' we can take this train all the way to Sonora without anyone bein' the wiser."

There was an excited 'whoop' from the others, and Lucas himself emitted a wild yell and gave his pony a kick. The others soon followed, and amid raucous yells and heaping mounds of dust kicked up by the horses' hooves, the Smith Five were on the move towards their target.


Underneath the hot sun, Lucien lounged on his horse with the sort of nonchalant ease of another man lounging on a couch in a cat-house. The brim of his hat cast a diagonal shadow across his face and a toothpick bobbed up and down as he chewed it slowly between his back teeth.

Truthfully, he'd much rather be sitting in a saloon bar, drink a beer fresh from the cellar, but Lucien was ready to acknowledge that tediously risky activities such as robbing trains were a necessary evil. Of course, he'd rather the ratio of bar to law-breaking time be significantly higher but Lucas would surely come up with some boring excuse like lack of money should he ever suggest it.

"Woooo..." said Lucien unenthusiastically, digging his heels into his horses ribs, sending him galloping down the hill close on the heels of his siblings, his scarf pulled up over his nose and mouth to protect them from the dust.

Soon the thunder of hooves merged into the mechanical chug of the steam engine and they began to draw level with the last carriage, the steel footplate and balcony hanging tauntingly just out of reach. Lucien glanced back at his sister, keeping pace with the rest of them, then back at the train.

This was the tricky part. He'd never been that good at this. Still, never let it be said he didn't try...

"Come'on," he ordered to his horse, jabbing his heels in again to spur it on. Unsteadily, he took his hands off the reigns, trying not to look at the ground blurring beneath his booted feet and the pounding shoes of his horse. With uncharacteristic ungainliness, he grabbed hold of the railings at the back of the final carriage and jumped.

Unfortunately, the toe of his right foot caught in the stirrup and, instead of vaulting them to land neatly onto the footplate, he slammed into the railings with the full force of his ribcage. Swearing with this remainder of his breath (which wasn't much), he pulled himself painfully up and over the railings, landing on his back on the footplate.

"Jesus, Lav..." he managed, struggling to his feet, revolver in hand. "Just once! Once I'd like ta be able ta get the hell onto a footplate without busting my ribs."

Lavender, who had leaped from horse to train with the finesse of a high-wire walker, guffawed for a moment as she helped steady her brother. "Aw, shoot, Lucien. The day you manage that'll be the day Lucas stops smokin' them cigarillos."

In other words: never.

"Now c'mon an' git up! We got us some gold ta earn," Lavender grinned and reached automatically for her favorite gun; the ironically named Cold Peacemaker which she affectionately called 'Little Buck.' Lucas had explicitly said that they weren't to fire off their guns before a certain time, but she sure as shooting wasn't going in there unarmed.

Lavender moved first into the train car, grinning beneath the bandanna she'd pulled up around her face. She took three steps in, and then stopped and swore, backing up towards the door.

Inside the rear car there was not a collection of startled rich folk, as had been surmised. Instead, there were five men sporting sheriff's badges, each armed and staring at two of the Smith Five with obvious intent.

"Boys," Said one of the sheriffs from beneath a handlebar mustache, "I think these two done forgot their tickets."

Lucien followed his sister into the carriage, likewise checking his scarf concealed all of his features, revealing only a pair of liquid green eyes which he rolled sardonically at her comment.

He'd too preoccupied with grinning at a rather fetching young woman in checked taffeta who was clutching the hand of the terrified nurse chaperon sitting beside her to pay much attention to his sister's swearing. It was only when she stepped backwards and trod painfully on his toe (she was heavier than she looked) that he glanced up to see a very unwelcome sight.

"An' I think you done gone forgot your manners," said Lucien, levelling his revolver at the man with the moustache. "We were about ta have a nice little chat with the folks in this carriage. So why don't you put them guns down and stop interrupting us?"

And this was exactly why he didn't much care for this sort of thing. When Lucas was convincing him to take part in the next raid or whatever it was he had planned, it always sounded so simple. But lawmen, railway guards and agency members tended to quickly make things more complicated whenever they appeared. Which was often.

"I swear, folks are gettin' ruder, sis," he said conversationally. "It's a sign o' the times, it is."

"They sure is, brother," Lavender replied, reaching for a second gun. She figured she could lay down at least three of the men before they got a shot off, and do so without hitting any of the rich passengers and thus spoiling their efforts by instilling panic. That still left two of the men, and the way they were leering across at the Smith siblings suggested that they weren't slouches with the old shoot-out techniques themselves.

"Now why don't you two head on back outside," Said one man. He was wearing a hat about two sizes two big, for the sole purpose of tilting it carelessly to one side. "We ain't got no need for fuss."

"Lucien, you think you could git the two on the left?" Lavender murmured out of the corner of her mouth. Her second favorite gun had appeared in her hand, ready to dazzle.

"Oh, please, no shooting!" Cried a distressed young lady whose husband had a firm grip around her middle.

"We got five on two, here," Said a third sheriff. He spit out of the corner of his mouth, which earned him a disgusted look from a matronly woman to his right. "That don't bode well for the two. Now we gonna do this simple or tough, Mudsills?"

"Do I really have to?" said Lucien, the barrel of his gun already drifting towards the two Lavender had indicated. Luke didn't like it when they had to do things like this, but they went heeled for a reason; sometimes the job didn't go the way Luke liked.

"I guess it's gonna have to be the tough way... Unless you wanna pull in your horns, boys," he said, more loudly to the lawmen, glancing at his sister to let her know he would follow her lead. He could handle a gun, sure, but he'd always preferred words to gunshots as a means of getting what he wanted. This sort of thing was better left to Luke or Lav; Lucien was content to saunter along in their wake, cleaning up what he could.

"Last chance!" he added, more confidently than he felt. In truth, the sheriff was right; five versus two weren't good odds. They'd had worse, but not by much. He prayed he'd be seeing the inside of a safe rather than the inside of a coffin once this was over.

"Do I really have to?" said Lucien, the barrel of his gun already drifting towards the two Lavender had indicated. Luke didn't like it when they had to do things like this, but they went heeled for a reason; sometimes the job didn't go the way Luke liked.

"I guess it's gonna have to be the tough way... Unless you wanna pull in your horns, boys," he said, more loudly to the lawmen, glancing at his sister to let her know he would follow her lead. He could handle a gun, sure, but he'd always preferred words to gunshots as a means of getting what he wanted. This sort of thing was better left to Luke or Lav; Lucien was content to saunter along in their wake, cleaning up what he could.

"Last chance!" he added, more confidently than he felt. In truth, the sheriff was right; five versus two weren't good odds. They'd had worse, but not by much. He prayed he'd be seeing the inside of a safe rather than the inside of a coffin once this was over.

There came a groan from a few yards away, just over the bank which ran alongside the tracks. Just out of his sister's line of sight, Lucien sat up and gingerly tried to brush dust from his auburn hair. He succeeded, but only in conjuring up a cloud of dust that settled on the shoulders and lapel of his jacket instead.

All things considered, they'd got away pretty lightly, he thought, as he unsteadily found his feet. A few bruises, a few cuts on his forearms where he'd flung his hands up to protect his head, but nothing that time and a good saloon bar wouldn't soon cure. He'd been expecting far worse; an out-and-out shoot-out or a night in the cells before being handed over to the Pinkerton Agency.

"Lav?" he called, as a figure became visible through the settling dust. He pushed his scarf down from over his mouth, immediately inhaling a lungful of dust then breaking down into a fit of coughs.

"Over here, short-stuff! Well, looks like we got a nice long walk ahead o' us, don't it?" he said, readjusting his hat and glancing at the sun. The tracks here ran due west so it would be at least four hours walk into the nearest town back the way in the opposite direction the train had been traveling.

Lavender's relief was evident on her face as she fanned herself with her dusty hat. It was going to be a long, hot, and painful walk, but at least she wasn't having to take it alone.

As the two bandit siblings trudged forward, away from the setting sun, there was no way for them to realize what new twist of fate they were imposing on themselves...

Lavender gasped, and panted, and finally huffed as she came to a stop outside of the dusty town which sat alongside the train tracks. Her face was red as an overripe strawberry, and her usually dusty and sweaty hair had been reduced to a mess of muddy strings. The sun had in no ways lightened up on the poor brother and sister who had found themselves alone on the road, and a lack of water had made it all the more unpleasant.

Now, Lavender sank to her knees to catch her breath, shaking her head. "There'd better be a whole pool 'a fresh...cold..."

She couldn't quite finish, and shook her head again. With a great deal of will power, and an even greater deal of bellyaching, she pushed herself back onto her tired feet and trudged towards what looked like a saloon. Once she reached the front doors, she stopped to peel off her boots and release what looked like half of a desert's worth of sand onto the street.

"Lucien," Lavender stopped to smack her dry lips, "You wanna see about that train station? I'm gonna get me a drink. Maybe round up some vittles."

The pinking of the sky above the far mountains that lay sprawled majestically behind the slim, lean hipped cowboy who was squatting near the small fire. The aromatic odor of coffee swirled and lifted, carried by the gently breeze. The clank of the small fry pan as the young man placed it on the ground. The sizzle and crackle of bacon filled the silence that lay wearily around the man.

The soft-doe brown eyes glanced towards the still dark blue, star-filled sky to the west, out there was a small town that had potential. Green Hallow was where Zach Blackwood headed, a town that was sleepy, small and a stop on the way to the rich cattle lands of northern Texas. Finishing the bacon and coffee, the young man tossed the remains and grounds to ground, kicking some dirt over them.

"Alright Donny boy, we've a ride ahead of us." Zach murmured as he mounted the Appaloosa. In an instant, they were off, at a nice easy walk. As the sun continued to rise and warm the early morning, the hard scrabble of land that was an indication of those who lived in the small town. It always marveled Zach how people with nothing could find a place, settle down, and make a life. Even here in this harsh land, settlers had found something to cling to, some hope. That led Zach to thinking of his own spread, a ranch with a few thousand head of cattle, maybe up in the Dark Canyon area of Utah. He had loved that area of the country, especially after he rode with a herd along the outlaw trail. The sun had cast its brilliant glow along the deep canyon walls, the silence and loneliness the beauty that only could be seen, because words could never convey the imagery. It was a scene he would never forget. While he rode along with that herd he already began forming a plan for a life, and a ranch of his own, up in those dark, lonely hills. A smile lit up his face as he rubbed Donny on the neck, “Soon enough ole’boy we’ll be back up in those hills. Soon enough.”

Around noon in the distance a blot appeared on the horizon, finally the small, dusty town with a spur railroad track was in sight. Continuing onward, Zach let his keen eyes look over the harsh land, it had haunting beauty. The ocher landscape dotted with scrub brushes, the wide-open sky, an azure that seemed to stretch to eternity.

The setting sun ahead of him cast a dazzling red-orange glow against yon purple mountains, hazed and shadowed by the setting disc of light. The small town was close, as Zach had paused to observe the setting of the light, he pulled out the pair of field glasses he bought in San Antonio from an old confederate officer; he spotted what appeared to be two down on their luck cowboys near the tracks. Scanning the town quickly it seemed peaceful enough. “Poor bastards” chuckled Zach as he nudged the appaloosa forward.

"Train station?" said Lucien, taking off his hat and drawing his sleeve across his glistening brow. The sight of a saloon bar was a glorious relief after hours of trudging along the dusty train-tracks; he could practically taste the beer and feel the welcome darkness of the shady saloon.

"Train station can wait, sis. I'm parched..." he replied, not bothering to pause and empty the dust from his boots before pushing through the swinging doors and walking into the blissful dimness.

As it was midday, the bar was relatively quiet, with only a few seasoned drinkers hunched over their firewater. A few of them looked up as Lucien entered, exchanged glances then looked back down at the grain of the table again. He guessed this town got a lot of travellers coming through; perhaps a new face once in a while was a common occurrence.

"A tankard of your coldest," said Lucien to the barkeep. "Actually, make that two," he added, remembering that Lav would be right behind him once she'd finished emptying half the desert from her shoes.

"Say," he said, pushing a couple of coins across the counter once the bartender had produced two beakers of cool-ish beer. "What's there to do in a place like this? Anythin' a belvidere like myself could cut a swell?"

The dust swirled around the appaloosa and rider as Zach and Donny rode slowly down the only street in the small town. Spotting a stable near the hotel, Zach headed there. Looking around he spotted a man n the cool confines seated on a rocking chair, snoozing peacefully. Slipping off the horse, Zach led the animal into a stable and stripped the saddle and tack off the animal. Grabbing a handful of hay he began rubbing the sweat off the flanks and body. Once done he took a bucket and found the well, drawing a large draught he let Donny drink deeply. Scrounging around he found another bucket and filled it with oats and other grains that he found. Once he was done feeding the horse he patted him once and walked towards the sleeping man. Reaching into his pocket he pulled fifty cents and dropped it at the sleeper’s feet.

“Well I’ll say you’re certainly considerate.” Grumbled the man as he stretched and yawned, looking at Donny he spat and said, “It’s a dollar a week and I’ll take those two bits as a down payment.” Zach grinned good-naturedly and dug a little deeper fishing out two more quarters and handed them to the man, “Well I guess I am paid up full then. So where can a dusty, parched cowboy find a drink and some food around here?”

Cracking a smile, the old cowhand pointed towards the Sliver Flake, “They have the best coffee around here and some mighty fine if simple food. The griddle cakes are the best for about 300 miles.” Zach chuckled, “I dunno about that, I rode for an outfit out near Crazy Woman Creek that had an honest to the lord Frenchie who rode chuck.” The older cowhand nodded, “I know the outfit, the Bar-Z-Bar? Yup I know Frenchie, but I’m telling ya eat the griddle cakes at the Silver Flake then come back and we can discuss it.”

Turning on his heel Zach said over his shoulder, “I think I may just do that.” His spurs jingling softly as he crossed the dusty street and headed for the Silver Flake. The large Sharps in his hand, his saddle bags over his shoulder as he stepped on the wooden walkway, the soft thump of his boots as he walked along the planks towards the entrance, as he did he glanced into the windows and frowned at the wolfish looking man that stared back at him. It had been a long ride since Kansas City, and he looked every inch the lean cowboy that he was. He needed a shave and a haircut and most definitely a bath, it had been a while since he had a proper bath. Stepping inside the Silver Flake he moved to one side of the door and stood there, letting his eyes adjust to the darker interior before heading to a table.

“I swear Becky, I don’t know why your brother always dresses you in those stuffy old blue dresses. Honestly, I think a nice yellow or purple would make you look mighty keen.” Scarlet Henson in a frilly butter yellow dress and matching parasol, crooned happily to her friend Becky Blackstone as they walked through town just leaving Madam Wilkins, one of the only fabric and clothing stores in Green Hallow.

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with blue.” Jesse Cameron grumbled a few paces behind, arms filled with Scarlet’s purchases. “And there ain’t nothin’ stuffy about them dresses, they’re respectable.” He asserted stubbornly.

“Stuffy!” Scarlet shot right back. “You really ought ta let me lend you one of my old dresses Becky. A little hemming here and there, and you’d look right perdy in yellow. Jesse’s just bein’ his usually pigheaded self, so don’t you pay him no mind.”

“Don’t you be gettin’ high handed with my sister Scarlet Henson!” Jesse retorted stiffly. “Oh, you still here Jesse? Guess that there accounts for the smell.” Scarlet replied in a dismissive tone.

“Damn right I’m still here you two faced little-!” Jesse growled back, one of their usual, and quite public arguments brewing in the air.

“Jesse Cameron, that is no way to speak to a Lady.” Scarlet scolded half heartedly with a fawned haughty sort of air. Becky watched the display with a faint smile, as this was both a familiar, and usual sight in Green Hallow’s everyday life.

“What Lady? Memory serves, you’ve gotta fouler mouth than I have.” Jesse grumbled as they reached Scarlet’s wagon that was waiting for them outside, and deposited her package that he’d been roped into carrying for her in it.

“Becky and I’ll be headin’ over to my house first, catch up with pa, and maybe seein’ how those old dresses fit. We’ll see ya at your place for lunch.” Scarlet said ignoring his last comment, and of course by lunch she meant riding. Jesse was about to protest, but was silenced by a look from Becky before the two girls climbed into the wagon, and were off.

“Women!” Jesse huffed irritably, before huffing into the Silver flake for a stiff brandy, and seating himself next to a fellow he hadn’t seen around before, but seemed like a clean shaven enough guy. “Take a brandy.” He order unnecessarily, as Jesse ordered the same thing every time he came to the saloon, and the bartender had already brought out a glass and bottle.

Lavender took a moment longer to inhale the town of Green Hallow (or so had said the sign at the entrance) in all its dusty glory. At least she was out of the desert. She turned on her heel and marched towards the swinging doors of The Silver Flake, elbowing some man out of the way as they reached the door at the same time. Wiping her already dirty sleeve against her even dirtier face, Lavender thumped over and slumped into the seat next to her brother as the bartender was offering him some chuckling advice.

"Well, if a man's a certain kinda lonely, there's always Madam Missouri's. Right at the edge 'a town, few more hours an' ya won't be able to miss it." The bartender handed Lavender first a drink, and then a somewhat clean wet rag. He peered closely as she scrubbed furiously at her face, until a round clean pink section had appeared enough to get a better idea of what she looked like. "Assumin' yer lady friend here don't mind."

Lavender snorted, and took down half of her drink in a greedy gulp. "Mister, so long as they got enough to bother him-" she jerked her head towards Lucien, "An' nothin' to bother me, then I don't rightly care. You got anything to eat in this shack?"

The bartender smiled, shrugged, and went off to suggest the cook get to cooking. Lavender twisted in her seat to look at her brother. "Luce, you notice anything...off about this place? Feels like all them folks in their houses is watchin' ya whenever ya walk about."

Well, looked like Green Hallow was getting a whole pack of new comers in today, Jesse observed with a dark brow raised slightly at the entrance of a little woman with a kind of tough tenacity about her that greatly reminded him of a terrier. It was kinda funny watching her, and especially the dirty looks she was getting from the men she’d just so graciously shoved out of her way. . As he'd never been one for long blue or angry moods, Jesse’s mood was greatly improved by the display. Then she seated herself on the other side of the man he’d sat by, and from they way she seemed to be talking to him, they were obviously well acquainted.

“That’d probably be because you’re wearing half the desert in your hair red. You are a redhead right? Kinda hard ta tell with all that dirt.” Jesse replied to her last bit, his tone not sneering or mocking per say, but the joking tone in his tone was evident.
“Don’t take this the wrong way or nothin, but you two look like you got dropped in the desert for a week with a bad map, so I take it you two didn’t exactly come in on this morning’s carriage?” He downed another shot of brandy before continuing, though the humor in his voice stayed.

Lavender took a moment to fix the man sitting next to her brother with a speculative look. Her brown eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, her glass remaining poised at her lips. Then she emitted a snort of laughter and tossed back the rest of her drink while waving for a new one.

"It ain't quite half the desert. Had to leave some for my brother, didn't I?" She leaned forward so she could talk over Lucien's front, propping her elbows up on the bar and her chin in one dusty hand. "So you from around here, Buster? And jest how often does this mornin' coach come ridin' in?" She flashed him the cheekiest wink she could when she was as sand-blasted as she was, "Maybe you'd like to buy a gal some supper an' we can talk about it a little more civilized-like."

The bartender returned with a second wet rag for Lucien. Congeniality was hardly Green Hallow's claim to fame, but the longer the wayward patrons who tended to turn up felt they could stand sitting in the bar, rather than racing off to find a bath and some softer company, the more drinks he tended to sell.

"Jesse, I don't mean to interrupt," The barkeep spoke as he settled back and poured out another Bourbon, "But you didn't leave that pretty sister of yours out there all alone, did ya? It's gettin' to be darkish out there. You know better than that."

His tone carried the sort of fatherly scolding that was reserved for the younger locals. It was a voice he was made to bring out with disturbing frequency.

Lucien shrugged. "Same as any place," he said, taking a sip of his drink gratefully. It might have been the nectar of the gods (rather than some luke-warm stale beer) for how glorious it felt on the back of his throat. "Curtains twitch whenever a newcomer passes by."

When a man sat on his left and his sister, on his right, leaned right across him to flirt shamelessly, Lucien leaned back, hands raised and scraped his chair back across the floorboards.

"Easy there, sis, have a little subtlety. At least do it outta earshot so I'm not obliged to get all Luke," he said, with a grin, referring to what the likely reaction of their older brother would be if he were in Lucien's place. Not that Lucien ever would; as far as he was concerned Lavender was a big girl and more than capable of looking after herself. If she wanted to go chasing after cowboys then Lucien wished her all the best.

At mention of a sister, he perked up. That was more like it.

"You don't say?" he said. "Being the gentleman I am, I couldn't live with myself if we let a lady languish outside in the dark. Stop jawin' and invite her in."

"Much obliged, brother," Lavender grinned, and gladly scooted her chair over to take up the space opened by Lucien's move. That was perhaps the only thing to be glad about with this separation of the Smith Five into the Smith Three and the Smith Two; no Luke or Levi to flutter about and screech like dragons protecting a nun whenever a man came into sight. And with nothing better to do than get drunk and wait around for the next train, she was extra grateful for the non-intrusive style of her slicker brother.

"Aw, hell, go on out an' invite her yourself, Luce," Lavender instructed cheerfully, waving a casual hand at him.

The bartender chuckled and shook his head, eying the two eager siblings that had just wandered into his town. "I'll do you a kindness, Mister, and suggest you look at some other man's sister. Lookin' too hard at Becky has gotten a man a night in the jailhouse before, when Jesse here is wearin' his lawman boots."

The 'L' word caused a slight jerking back of Lavender's shoulders, which had been leaning slightly to allow her a better vantage of fluttering her lashes at the bourbon man. Suddenly she was feeling a lot less eager about their stay in Green Hallow.

"Say, how much fer a room?" She asked of the bartender as she sucked down the last of her latest drink.

"Ain't you hungry?"

"I wanna get cleaned up. That ain't a crime, is it?" This was wryly directed at Jesse, while clearly not expecting an actual response. She winked at him anyhow. She always had suffered from a rather poor judgment.

Lavender handed over a few coins to the bartender and received a key in exchange. "Luce, you stickin' around or you goin' to haunt the town?"

Jesse grinned as the cheeky redhead bantered back with him. Except for maybe Scarlet, who was more like a sister or an annoying cousin he couldn’t get rid of, he hadn’t come across many women that were so bold. It was kinda refreshing.

“Well slow down there darlin’, I usually like to get the girl’s name at least before I start shelling out for dinners. Jesse Cameron, rancher, at your service.” Jesse said with a cheeky grin of his own. "As for those coaches, they come as often as someone with a good amount of money wants 'em to."

“Ah give me a bit more credit than that pops. Becky’s been spendin’ the day with Scarlet. They was sayin something about dresses.” Jesse said the word dresses coming out like something disgusting on his tongue. “They said they’d be heading back to house for supper, so they’re probably at home now fixen something to go along with that pot of stew.”

Jesse was far less amused with the brother of the two strangers, at least he was after Jesse saw him perk up at the mention of Becky. But seeing how this Lucien wasn’t squawking about Jesse flirting with his sister, Jesse imagined it’d come off a bit hypocritical if he started warning the man off before he’d even met Becky to begin with.

“Well the fact they was trying to rob every ranch from here to Tombstone might have had something ta do with that too huh pops?” Jesse said rolling his eyes. When a man was perusing his sister with less than honorable intentions, he preferred to solve that problem the old fashion way: a sound beating. It was the sister he had been enjoying a good old fashion flirt with that’s reaction confused him.

“Can’t say it is.” Jesse asked, a little confused by her seemingly sudden desire to get away from him. “But you’d have to take that up with the sheriff. I just work as a deputy from time to time when the old timers got there hands full with somethin’.” Jesse explained shrugging.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a rancher through and through. I rope more cattle in a week than I do bank robbers in a year.” Most girls usually thought the idea of Jesse being a lawman was attractive, (funny how when girls get something in their heads, words like “part time”, or “occasional” tend to be over looked) so much so they started spinning things in their heads until he was somehow the sheriff. This girl however, seemed less than keen on the idea of his association, and Jesse had no intention of playing up the fact he worked as a need based deputy.

Lucien nearly choked on his beer, not at the revelation that their new drinking partner was a lawman but at the look on his sister's face in response. That, combined with the fact that Cameron seemed powerless to politely oppose his 'you can take my sister and I'll take yours' approach- a territory where many of the rougher frontier men of Lucien's acquaintance would have no problems indulging in hypocrisy- made for entertaining viewing.

Once Lavender had made up her mind to retire to one of the rooms upstairs (reluctantly, knowing her), Lucien drained the dregs of his beer and set the beaker down on the counter top.

"Hauntin', I think," said Lucien, standing up. "Time to absquatulate. See'ya later sis, mister lawman."

With a wave and the clink of a few coins on the bar, Lucien was gone, stepping out into the evening light. The sun was rapidly dipping towards the mountains on the horizon, throwing out a few dying rays into the scrubby clouds. Already the temperature had dropped dramatically; it always did this far out into the desert. You could die of thirst during the day and of exposure during the night.

The little town was gradually coming alive. A few grizzled patrons, miners, from the stink of dynamite on their overcoats, went past him into the saloon and across the street a couple of ranchers were tying up their horses in preparation for a night on the tiles.

With his hat in his hand, Lucien idled over to the pump by the side of the general store just down the street from the saloon and took his shirt off to wash away some of the dust he and Lav had accumulated on their long trek towards civilisation. Once he looked half-decent and his hair was no longer a shade of dusty grey but his natural auburn, he buttoned his shirt back on, put his battered hat back on his head and made his way through the little frontier town.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A wooden-fronted building, freshly painted with a sign that bore the legend 'Madame Missouri's'. Lights and laughter drifted out from behind net curtains and music was playing somewhere upstairs; the faint sound of a piano filtered down from the balconies above. Pushing open the door, Lucien went inside.

Madam Missouri's place was kicking up into a full lather of excess and exuberance. The girls kicked their legs up with whoops and hollers, sending the lacy edges of their skirts up nearly past the tops of their elegant knots of hair. The skinny man at the piano wiggled and rocked as he threw out his elbows and tickled the keys with relish. A woman with twists of hair winding all around her weathered gem of a face flounced around the room with an impetuous swish of her many silken purple skirts. At the arrival of the handsome redhead stranger, she gathered the extra silk up with one hand and slunk her way over to his side.

"Well well! A fresh little lamb wandering into my den. Welcome to my place, Buster. You look dreadful parched! Come on in, and take yourself a seat." She wound one of her stately arms around his, and drew him inside towards the cloud of tobacco smoke in the middle of the room. "Did you just arrive in Green Hallow?" She flashed a grin that belonged in the mouth of a fox. "You sure do have the smell of a cut-tail."

She winked as they arrived at one of the less-full tables, with a clear view of the flashing legs of the girls on stage. "Now, you may notice that some of my girls are wearin' those very fashionable colored beads in their hair, and others are not. I'll leave it to you to figure out why. Just be sure you're gentlemanly as you do, understand? Now how's about I have Ezekiel bring you out a nice cool drink. First one's always on the house."

Lavender waved her brother off, and disappeared up the stairs with her key clutched firmly in her mitt. Not too long after, she reappeared with less gear and a great deal less dirt. Two of her neighbors would discover their bowls of cleaning water missing and their doors jimmied open, but Lavender didn't rightly care. Living caked in dust and dirt was just fine, out in the desert. But in a town, when you didn't want to be attracting attention to yourself and you didn't want everything you could possibly have between your skin and the scorching cold or the blistering heat...well, it was nice to squeak a little as you walked.

As she tread down the stairs, she wondered what she was going to do about the mischievously handsome sometimes-deputy. Her instincts were, like any good Smith's, muddled by the pretty face. But she could practically hear Luke's stern, drawling words suggesting that she put a few firm bullets between herself and the lawman. But Luke wasn't here. And she was going to get mighty bored waiting around for a means of travel to show up.

"Hey Bucko," Lavender called to the man, Jesse she believed the barkeep had called him, at the bar, "So what is there to do around this town when your brother ain't lookin'?"

Jesse watched Lucien go as he finished his third shot of Bourbon, his usual limit. This self imposed capping was not because he couldn’t hold his liquor, quite the contrary as he cautiously suspected he’d inherited a rather high tolerance for the stuff, but because his old man had been a raging alcoholic until the day that he’d died. He didn’t resent the old man for it, though he grudgingly knew he’d taken more that a few beatings growing up that he hadn’t deserved, and it was an argument point he hated conceding to people. He knew what people said about old Angus Cameron, those who’d lived in the town long enough anyway, and it had infuriated him since he was a child, especially the patronizing sympathetic looks he’d always gotten.

The Camerons’ had never been a rich bunch, and his father might not have been around as much as some, but he’d taught Jesse how to fend for himself; how to shoot and ride and rope and survive. Even the most uppity patron of Green Hallow had to admit, there hadn’t been anyone in town who could rope and ride better than Angus Cameron, and Jesse had inherited that skill as surely as his brandy colored eyes. He did not however, want to inherit his father’s alcoholic tendencies, and though he enjoyed some bourbon and whisky as much as any other man, he was careful about just how much he had in one sitting.

"Hey Bucko," Lavender called. "So what is there to do around this town when your brother ain't lookin'?"

“Well I s’ppose that depends on what kinda fun your lookin’ for red.” Jesse said turning to the far cleaner woman he’d been flirting with earlier, flashing a lazy grin, and as he’d suspected, a redhead. “Inside the town I think you’ll be sadly disappointed;” Jesse said with a look of mock contemplation. “But a good couple miles outside of town, there’s a mighty lot of fun to be had if your lookin’ for a ride?” Jesse offered. “Then maybe we can see about that dinner you were angling for.”

Lavender's grin grew a fraction wider, and a fraction more mischievous. She donned her battered hat and stepped forward on already aching feet, ready for more trouble.

"Well, so long as supper is at the end of the line I don't see that a bit of a ride out of town could hurt me. Providin' you got a spare horse to lend, seein' as mine is off makin' friends in the desert right about now." Making friends or being caught, unsaddled and retrained by Indians. She wondered if her other brothers would have noticed that a pair of their group was missing yet; the train was scheduled to reach its stop and they were supposed to wander off nonchalant with their pockets full of valuables, to meet back at a predetermined hotel and cackle over their haul. If her estimations were right, the train was still about an hour away from its stop. The Pinkertons who had chucked Lucien and herself off the back of the train might not realize as the other three escaped; they'd be sure to boast about the arrest when they got the chance, however.

Maybe they would make the mistake of boasting while they were still on the train, and Lucas would hear about it. There was no amount of Pinkerton force that could stand up against an enraged trio of Smiths. Once, Leon had been wounded in a gunfight, and Lucas had managed to shoot down the rest of the opposing side and then haul his brother off on his shoulder, on his own. He was a regular hero of a bandit, the stuff of legends. Much like his namesake.

Lavender would just have to make sure she didn't brag about any of that to her new...friend.

"So whereabouts are we headed?"

“Weeeell, I don’t exactly got myself two horses at the moment see, but if you’re not overly object to the idea of sharing, I can promise a fast ride.” Jesse said with a flirtatious grin of his own, hoping the fact he only had one horse with him wouldn’t detour his pretty new friend. Getting up off his barstool with a bit of a spring in his step, he showed her out towards his big brown stallion; Ahanu.

“Ahanu here’s a big boy, he won’t mind the extra person, ‘specially one as pretty as you.” Jesse said with an almost roguish smile and wink.

“As to the wheres, I was thinkin’ maybe Wiley Riley’s Mine. Some say it’s haunted, but the real fun is the ride over, and it’s not too far from the old homestead. So what do ya say, up for a ride out to see some old spooks?”