Beating Shadow with authority as his hot neck sweat soaked his reigns. Trigger Finger finally seeing the quaint town of Crosby's Ridge, Montana over the ridge. His mind set back to his mission at hand. "Step one... scout the town.... step two.... find the girl.... step three.... find the place.... step four.... alert the boys...," he repeated over and over as Shadow flew through the sage brush. Trigger, finally reaching the outskirts, eased up on the young horse settling into a lope as he moved into the store fronts one after the other. Each one looking as pristine as the last. "So pretty," he scoffed in his gruff voice behind his cigarette. Finding, a horse post outside he lifted himself off of his precious Appaloosa "Easy boy," He coaxed the young gelding as he placed his Winchester in his scabbard and looked up at the sign. "Big Horn Saloon" he said to himself, as he squinted from the mid morning sun. "Here we go again," he thought to himself as he pushed through the saloon doors into the smoke filled room.
He stood at the entrance, of the dark room filled with smoke and dirty men, probably from the mine he figured. He walked up to the bar and put out his cigarette with a smile. "Anyone know where a guy can get some food 'round here?" he said plainly as he could.
"Well, You sure did come to the right place!" Said the enthusiastic man surely fat and happy off the money his shithole inn had been making since the mine opened up. "We got beef steak and potatoes for a buck fifty."
"No, no I-I mean for my horse you see." With no intention of staying in the saloon long he had to make an excuse to get out and quick.
"Well sure, young man. Down the road here you'll see a sign called Belle's Aide. About three doors down yonder from there is a grocer called Crosby's Goods. I'm sure he'll have just what yer lookin' for," He smiled about as cheerful as the barkeep could muster.
"I 'preciate it." Trigger said with a tip of his hat.
"Come back if ya get to hankerin' fer something." The barkeep yelled out as Trigger left the saloon.
"Will do..." Trigger said to himself as he walked down the store fronts, his spurs chinging as he traveled. He saw Belle's Aide and stopped outside peering into the window he noticed a girl. A beautiful girl writing into her logs, for the day had just begun. His senses sparked and continued down toward Crosby's Goods and pushed through the doors. "Mornin'" he smiled as he walked past the shopkeep and to the back where he picked up a bag of feed and paid for it. All the while thinking of the woman in Belle's Aide. He walked back up the planked store fronts to Shadow waiting patiently. "Looks like we are in business once again boy," He said to his horse. Shadow snorted and started eating from his feed bag. "Time to get started."

Bonnie rose that morning with the usual spring in her step, she rose with the sun, waking early for a long day ahead, yet it wasn’t that she was bothered by her long days and late nights, she loved her job, it gave her independence and the chance to be the woman she wanted to be not who someone wanted her be and that was one of the main reasons she took on the ‘Big Horn Saloon’ after her husband died and she could honestly say that it was the greatest decision she had ever made.

Stretching, she kicked down the covers, sliding her slender legs off the edge of the bed as a loud yawn rippled through her. Standing up Bonnie walked over to her vanity, sitting quickly as she rubbed her weary eyes before washing her face with the cooling water she had put out the night before. Once her face had brightened up and she ran a brush through her long, golden curls she proceeded to dress before leaving her beautiful apartment above the saloon.

Making herself her a strong cup of coffee in the kitchen in the back, she grabbed a piece of fresh fruit for her breakfast; she never had been a big eater, especially in the mornings. Carrying her cup and apple into her study she sat down in the plush swivel chair and looked over her books for the Saloon and proceeded to sort out wages, along with rent for the building. As her eyes caught sight of her wedding picture and small smile crept upon her beautiful face as she ran her fingers down the silver frame and remembered the simpler time in her life, before the war, back when she still lived in Charleston in her beautiful home when all she had to worry about was what to wear that day. With a small sigh she shook the memories from her mind “No use dwellin’ on the past” she mumbled to herself turning her attention back to the documents in front of her.

Lost in her work Bonnie nearly missed the fact that she had been working for hours, it was only when her stomach rumbled did she look up at the clock mounted in her wall, closing the book, she gathered everything up and placed all the documents and money in the safe mounted behind the portrait of her mother. Once everything was sorted she left her apartment and walked down the wooden staircase down to the ground floor where the bar and poker tables were. As Bonnie reached the bottom step she smiled as she took in her pride and joy “Afternoon Lou” she called to her bartender who stood polishing the glasses which would later hold some of the finest liquor in Montana, it was something she prized herself on, just because the town was fast becoming a shithole, didn’t mean her place had to be.

“Afternoon Miz Bohannon” the older man returned as she approached the bar to sit down, nodding to a couple of early punters as a passing greeting, they were her usual drinkers who often came in around lunch if they weren’t still passed out at home. Laughing slightly as she passed them she took a seat at the bar stool leaning forward slightly flashing her best smile at the man “Any chance of a sandwich darlin?” she asked hopeful, that her newly employed chef was around.

Lou laughed with a quick nod “Right away ma’am” he answered.

“Thanks Lou” she called as he hurried back through the thin curtain separating the bar from the newly installed kitchen in the back, turning in her seat she observed her saloon with a satisfied smirk, so much had changed since she had first arrived in the town two years ago, firstly ‘The Big Horn Saloon’ was a complete dump, a place her husband had won the deeds to in a poker game, although she hadn’t known that until after he had died and thus inherited it. And so perhaps on a whim she decided to take on the project and she was thankful she had, it had been a lot of hard work but worth it, the place was now certainly something to be proud of.

Now that Shadow was full and not going to be awnry, Trigger set out from the hitching post in front of the Big Horn Saloon to the north towards the Serpentine River. He noticed as gradually the pristine store fronts tarnished as he rode further and further. It became less something of civilized living and more something he was accustomed to. Shadow silently trotted along to the sound of the ever increasing sound of water and Trigger rose his guard as the sound of water accompanied the sound of people. The town of Crosby's Ridge, Montana was empty this morning and now he new why as he saw pan after pan of the prospectors who he had heard flocked to this nothing town a week before. "Holy Christ...," he grumbled under his breath.

The river glistened in the bright sun as it slowly sauntered its way across the sky into the midday. His Appaloosa was bound to bring him attention so he rode to the west a bit but no matter how far he rode these gold panners would not end. And from atop his horse, they were doing quite well.
"Heh tat's a nice horse ya got tere boy-o," an old Irish voice called out to him.
"Well, I like the way you think prospector," Trigger put on a false smile and played along with the old man.
"Aye, I don tink I seen sometin loike tat in quite some time," the man neared closer to get a good look at the young man on the horse. "Ya new 'round here boy-o?"
"You can say that." Trigger replied looking out in the distance down at the banks of endless people hoping to find fortune. "How many people are out here old timer?"
"Couldn' rightleh tell ya. I do know tat tere all here for the same reason as meself togh. It's te gold linin' te bot'om of te river. Good luck findin' a place ta pan togh. Took me two days and I had to fight for mine."
"Well, shit! Nothin' like showin' up late to a party, eh?" Trigger joked.
"Keep headed down west. Maybeh you'll find sometin." The man responded.
Trigger stood in his stirrups as he swung his leg off shadow and landed on his feet beside the horse. "Honestly," He began walking towards the old prospector. " I don't care about standin' out in this sun hotter than Hell's holy henchmen waiting to strike it rich with a fucking pan in my hand, breakin my back for the mere chance that by the good grace of God I find some luck in these forsaken badlands. Honestly, I'd rather make my own luck." With those words, Trigger crossed his body with his arm wrapping around the handle of his Smith and Weston, with a fail swoop unholstered the gun, cocked it and pushed into the old man's chest. "Now this is goin' to go one of two ways... Either you're goin' to tell no one I was here. Or everyone is going to hear me shoot you point blank in the heart."
"Now-now-now w-w-w-wait a minute here. We can work this out. Oh God, St. Peter help me." The man pleaded for his life as the gun was pushed harder into his chest.
"What do you suggest we do about this?"
"I don even know who you are."
"I don't give a shit! Now you wanted to slow me down, give away minutes of my valuable time now, make it worth my while." Trigger snarled as his cigarette ash fell on the man's dirt encrusted shirt.
"Take it! Take te gold it's in te pans over tere to te left!"
"Keep your limey fucking voice down, you little cockroach."
"I'm sorreh, I'm sorreh." Cried the man. Sweating bullets that glistened in the sun as his face grew redder by the second.
"Now, I'm going to take your gold. I'm not going to say another word, as long as you don't. Understand." Trigger explained to the man eye to eye. The irish man nodded in agreement as he stood and watched the bandit rummage through his life's possessions, gathering all the gold he could manage and stuffing it into a cloth sack. "Now, get back to your work, I was never here, correct?" Trigger moved over to Shadow securing the sack of Gold onto his saddle. Standing up in the stirrups swinging his leg ov er his horse.
"Yea, whateveh you sey." Said the man. As a shot echoed through the canyon up the river banks for miles.
"Ah, God dammit!" Trigger yelled out as a shot tore through his shoulder. "Son of a fucking bitch!" He ducked off his horse and drew his guns. "We had a deal you bastard!" Trigger yelled out. As the irish man ducked behind his gear.

A boy no older than 16 walking up the river bank from his pans,"Dah, you alright?!" holding a Moore Revolver in his hands shaking a bit squeaked out "Get out of here ya cockchafer! Go get yer arm looked at! I know I hit it!" The boy's words were angry but Trigger was calm. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten shot, but it was painful beyond what he could imagine.
"Ya Glenn, I'm alright!" The old man called out.
"Dammit boy!" Trigger called out pistols drawn hidden behind Shadow. "Teach your boy to not meddle in men's work!"
"Get before I shoot your horse!" Trigger had to think a moment before he decided what to do, he grabbed the gold off the saddle and tossed it over the horse. "Now get on your horse and get gone!"
"You gonna shoot me again?" Trigger toyed with the boy.
"I haven't decided," He cocked his gun. "But to be safe throw your guns over the horse too! Or I kill your ugly mule."
Begrudgingly Trigger tossed his pistols over Shadow as they dropped in the dust on the other side. "Alright, alright. I'll get on my horse, and get out of here." Behind the horse Trigger had undone his scabbard as he climbed up on the horse he got a good look at the boy. As he grabbed the reigns with his right hand his left hand swung his Winchester Rifle across his body and fired a single shot.

The projectile escaped the chamber and roped itself into the boys forehead. The bullet ripped through his brain matter and blasted out the back of his head and the boy fell flat on his back. Trigger slipped the Winchester back in it's scabbard and hopped off his horse again and clambered to his guns, his shoulder bleeding something fierce. The old man hysterical seeing his son shot through the head and now dead the on the banks of the serpentine river. Trigger picked up his Colt 1845 walked to the old man holding his son,"Thanks old man," Trigger smirked and shot the old man point blank in the head, collapsing the old man on top of the boy. Walking back to the horse he grabbed the sack of gold and climbed up on Shadow once more and took off from the scene towards the town at full clip.

Entering the town from the north was quite different from the east. He meandered past the wind torn structures and dusted out building into the newer part of Crosby's Ridge. Told a different story than the fresh and clean town that was spelled out entering from the east. The town was on hard times before this boom and the pristine shops from earlier in the day had been painted a new picture of rebuilding. All things that Trigger needed to know. All things to create a story for himself. He hadn't much time to do so either, as he came to the hitching post from earlier in the day. He slid off Shadow and tied the gelding up as he limped down the strip towards Belle's Aide. He made it to the door, flung it open and stumbled in.

The young lady from before who had been looking over her logs stood up as Trigger wearily crashed through the door. "My name is Justin. I've been shot... I need a doctor!"

Viola walked into town, he boots making a light "click" sound as she carried herself. The town seemed to be as what it usually was. Witch meant she would need to get inside one of those buildings soon. She glanced at the Saloon. She had some money in her pocket and a need to win a game of cards. She made her way inside, used to seeing Mis Bohnaanan by the bar and Lou retreat into the kitchen area. Was it sad she knew where practically everything was in the Saloon? She thought so. 

When Lou came back with the owner's food he greeted Viola as well. "Regular?" He asked with a grin, already cleaning out a cup. "That'd be wonderful." Viola replies as he pours Viola a sarsaparilla. "Thank you." She replied simply and took a shot of the drink she was used to drinking. About lunch time everyday shed come by, play a hand at poker, and leave. Maybe buy a few things from the grocer every once in awhile. 

Viola glanced around at all of the regulars. She had played them all, won most of the games. But now she needed someone new to play, mostly because she needed money and didn't want to go back working as a prostitute. She let out a sigh and payed for her drink. Setting the money on the counter she was so used to paying.

"You're a cheat!" exclaimed a heavyset man with a hand at his hip and cheeks glowing red. Before him sat a man in his early 20's with an easygoing smile

"Please. You are not the first to suffer through a losing streak. I myself have had my fair share of losses. Come. How about another game?" Aedan asked nonchalantly. He knew he was in no danger. Despite the man's girth and short temper, he was still a store owner. He owned a butcher's shop, if Aedan recalled correctly. The man had more to lose by shooting Aedan than the winnings were worth. A seasoned gambler was not so easily perturbed by an angry opponent.

"But no one wins seven games in the row," the man grumbled. Aedan's smile widened. Just as he thought. It just going to be talk and Aedan was fine with that.

"Oh, some do. It just takes skill and a little luck. These were honest games, see?" he asked, rolling up his sleeves to reveal bare arms, no contraptions or cards to aid him in the game, "I tell you what. Have another couple shots of whiskey. On me."

He waved the bartender over and slipped him a couple of bills and, sure enough, the man took the shots and left the saloon at least partially mollified. Aedan sighed slightly as he left the table, which had accumulated a few too many bottles for his taste, and sat in front of pretty-looking woman.

"You don't need to cheat when you're paying for your opponent's drinks," he told her.

Viola glanced around the Saloon a bit more, seeing the occasional game that didn't quite appeal to her all that much. A particular game did catch her eye, however. A large man with rosy cheeks and a greasy chin seemed quite irritated. She smirked slightly as the  man in front of him said something that the man didn't seem to like. She recognized the bigger man, he ran the local butcher. 

The man opposite of him called the Lou over and decided gave the larger man a few shots. Lou returned behind the counter, his face not giving anything of what happened away. After the larger man finished he stood, grumbled something, and left the Saloon. Most likely getting back to the shop. As the winner stood, Viola somewhat recognized him. 

She had seen him around before, but thy never quite spoke. A smile played her lips as she glanced back to the counter. Her peripheral vision saw a blur of color move to the side of her. She moved her attention back to him as he said, "You don't need to cheat, when you're paying for your opponent's drinks." An amused breath escaped her lips as she looked at him. Her lips in a curved smile. "One doesn't need cheat at all, if the opponents' are moderate at playing." She commented back. 

She didn't know whether to challenge him to a game, or ask him to buy her a drink. Hell, perhaps she's purposely lose a game for him to buy her a drink. She had a feeling that he was very good at gambling. But, then again, he hadn't played her before. "How 'bout you play someone who know's what there doin?" She asked, moving her dull green eyes to meet his dark ones. This was going to be amusing. 

"How 'bout you play someone who know's what there doin?"

"Well, who am I to refuse a fair-looking lady such as yourself," Aedan told the woman, smiling slightly as he took in her form. Yes, she was rather attractive and it looked like she didn't put up with any of that "proper" nonsense that was so prevalent in the more "civilized" parts of the country. He began shuffling his pack of cards, careful to show her that there wasn't any foul play involved before handing her the deck.

"So, what shall we play?" he asked in his Irish accent, "I believe I am up for almost anything."