Wildcat Kate's Story

Kate had been riding a very, very long time. She'd taken off at the crack of dawn this morning, between four and five, and now, judging by the sun's position directly overhead, it was midday. And God was it hot. That was the thing about deserts. They were just so damn hot.

Kate tugged the brim of her black Stetson down a little further, squinting out across the shimmering desert. For miles and miles there was flat, red dirt, studded with the occasional scrubby bush or prickly cactus. Behind her lay the formidable mountains from which she'd come, and before her lay...a town? Yes, it was a town. She could barely make it out, but it was definitely there- a collection of small buildings on the horizon. This must be her lucky day! It'd been four days since she'd seen a town, at least. She laughed at the memory, recalling the rowdy gang of outlaws she'd left just this morning.

She'd met them about a week before, six scruffy bandits who called themselves "The Railroad Gang", as they had a reputation for thieving from the railroad camps constructing the railway West. It'd been easy enough to work herself in, and she'd proved herself the first night when she assisted in holding up a stagecoach and looting a nice load of fine jewelry and cash. The gang had almost immediately informed her of their plan to rob a bank in the budding town of Blackshade, and Kate was only too happy to assist.

Unfortunately, the robbery hadn't quite gone as planned. Tex, who was supposed to keep watch, got distracted by a pair of drunk saloon girls and wandered off, and Kate and the gang were caught in the act by a very angry sheriff. Two of the gang were killed before Kate could blink, and she'd hastily scooped up two sacks of what she hoped was a fair amount of cash and dove out the nearest window. Gunsmoke, ever the trusty steed, was still standing calmly at the hitching post where she'd left him, and she'd hurriedly swung into the saddle and ridden for her life, the sound of gunshots echoing behind her.

She'd met up with the three surviving members of the gang at the appointed meeting place (another outlaw had been killed in the process of Kate's escape) and said she'd be happy to continue North with them. Of course, Kate knew that was far too dangerous. That sheriff would stop at nothing to get the gang, and that meant she needed to split, and fast. So she'd stuck with them a couple days more as they headed through the mountains, then, at the first opportunity, stole their cash and took off.

Now she was approaching a strange town with god knows what kind of lawmen. Had they ever heard of Wildcat Kate here? Well, they were about to. Smiling to herself, Kate gave a loud whoop and spurred Gunsmoke forward, galloping towards the town.

Just another normal day in Splitcreek. Alex was leaning against the wall of a shop keeping watch and smoking a cigarette, occasionally taking it out of his mouth to puff out smoke. Things had been going well for Alex, he'd recently found a lead to the location of the gang responsible for the death of his family and captured two of them. He planned to interrogate them later and make sure they were either executed or spent the rest of their lives in a cell. He had recently received a bunch of wanted posters for some notorious criminal going by the name of "Wildcat Kate" for pretty much everything but murder. He had just finished putting them all up about the town and made a map of where he'd put them so he could quickly learn if anyone was tearing them down.

Minutes later, he saw a woman galloping into the town, a woman who looked familiar somehow... Alex quickly remembered who she was, she was Wildcat Kate, and she'd just dug her own grave. He pulled out a revolver and fired a shot into the air to gain her attention once she was close enough.
"Hold!" Alex ordered, "Get off your horse and drop your weapons, or I'll shoot both you and your horse."

Jenny's expression turned cold and she turned her head quickly, and took out both her revolvers. Slowly standing up, due to the gunshots, she aimed outside and put her fingers on the trigger. "Trouble never stops, does it? At noon, of all times." She muttered towards Morgan. She walked outside and narrowed her eyes when she saw her. It wasn't the first time, either. "Wildcat Kate? Oh.. Y'all have to be kiddin' me." She grunted, and ran over to the Marshal. "Marshal.. That was you who shot, right?" She muttered, aiming her pistols at the girl.

She nudged Alex to get his attention. "She aint to be messed with, Marshal. Watch yourself."

The town was getting closer and closer, slowly changing from a mass of brown into clearly defined buildings. It looked relatively quiet, not a lot going on on what looked to be the main street. Perfect. She'd pull up, ride in nice and quiet, hitch up Gunsmoke and go in for a drink. Kate certainly liked to drink, and was quite proud of her ability to hold copious amounts of liquor.

She wasn't paying much attention, not the way she should've been, anyway, and was surprised to hear the crack of a gun. Gunsmoke was just about bomb proof, but a gun going off ten feet away will scare any animal, and he threw up his head, snorting and stamping up a storm. "Easy, easy," she murmured, laying a hand on his sweaty neck. The big bay whinnied, prancing in place, and Kate squinted at the shadowy figure standing in the shade of the building.

Great. She'd ridden two feet into town and there was already a trigger-happy bozo here to greet her. Finally quieting Gunsmoke, Kate jerked down the kerchief serving as a dustrag and gave her biggest smile. "My, what a welcome! Don't I feel special- a personal greeting from..." she strained to make out the words on his badge, "the town marshal!" She faked offense, shaking her head. "What, suddenly Wildcat Kate ain't good enough to meet the sheriff himself?"

Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned her name. Maybe she should've played dumb, pretending to be Sally Mays from Oklahoma or something like that. Ah well, too late now. Just then, a woman emerged from the saloon, running to the marshal's side. Oh hell, now there were TWO of them, and the girl was armed to the teeth, two pistols already drawn and trained on her head. "Well, now that y'all know I'm here, I'd best be taking off. Pleasure to meet you, Marshal, and I'll be seeing y'all real soon." With a wink, Kate jerked up her kerchief and clapped her heels into the Gunsmoke's sides.

The animal leaped forward, galloping off as Kate hunched over his neck, drawing her pistol and firing a shot behind her. She sure as hell hoped Gunsmoke wasn't too tired to run, because she was a lousy shot on horseback, and that looked to be one determined town marshal. All she needed was to get out of sight, and she could stash Gunsmoke and head back into town, see what she could do to shake up the town. But first...first she had to get away.

On the twenty-first of July, beneath the burning sun.
McDowell met the Southern troops in battle, at Bull Run;
Above the Union vanguard, was proudly dancing seen,
Beside the starry banner, old Erin's flag of green.

Colonel Corcoran led the Sixty-ninth on that eventful day,
I wish the Prince of Wales were there to see him in the fray;
His charge upon the batteries was a most glorious scene,
With gallant New York firemen, and the boys that wore the green.

In the hottest of the fire there rode along the line
A captain of a Zouave band, crying, "Now, boys, is your time;"
Ah! who is he so proudly rides, with bold and dauntless mien?
'Tis Thomas Francis Meagher, of Erin's isle of green!

The colors of the Sixty-ninth, I say it without shame,
Were taken in the struggle to swell the victor's fame;
But Farnham's dashing Zouaves, that run with the machine,
Retook them in a moment, with the boys that wore the green!

Being overpowered by numbers, our troops were forced to flee,
The Southern black horse cavalry on them charged furiously;
But in that hour of peril, the flying mass to screen,
Stood the gallant New York firemen, with the boys that wore the green.

Oh, the boys of the Sixty-ninth, they are a gallant band,
Bolder never drew a sword for their adopted land;
Amongst the fallen heroes, a braver had not been,
Than you lamented Haggerty, of Erin's isle of green.

Farewell, my gallant countrymen, who fell that fatal day,
Farewell, ye noble firemen, now mouldering in the clay;
Whilst blooms the leafy shamrock, whilst runs the old machine,
Your deeds will live bold Red Shirts, and Boys that Wore the Green!

Your deeds will live bold Red Shirts, and Boys that Wore the Green!*

Today was not going well for Wildcat Kate. Not only had she ridden into the small mining town, only to be confronted by the local marshal and an overly brave (and overly armed) girl but her escape attempt was about to turn sour. Coming down the middle of the road, was Darby O'Rourke, singing, not at the top of his lungs but close enough. He was on foot, setting an easy marching pace, the very same one that had been drilled into him as a soldier in the vaunted Irish Brigade and leading a fat mule, which was trying to drag it’s feet. The animal wasn’t fond of going into places that gunshots had recently come from.

Darby however, didn’t much care who was shooting, so long as it wasn’t at him, which is why he was singing, other then because he enjoyed hearing himself do so. He was letting everyone ahead of him know, that he was coming through. Of course that didn’t mean he was just going to walk through a gunfight. He had unslung the loaded Springfield model 1873 and wrapping one hand around the grip, rested the long rifle on his shoulder.

As the sound of hoofbeats came racing towards him, the older soldier stopped dead in the road, the mule turning sideways in an attempt to leave the area. Hold the mule’s reins in one hand, he watched the approaching rider without concern and calmly stood his ground. Whoever it was, they weren’t just going to ride him down or force him to jump out of the way, no sir! He had marched through raining artillery fire and made bayonet charges against massed rifle fire, one single horsemen wasn't going to make him turn aside.

Besides, with the two small bags of gold dust in his pockets, he felt like he could buy the whole town, which only added to his cocky boldness. The river had been kind to him recently, allowing him to pan out more then enough gold this time. Not only could he afford a night in the saloon and the supplies he need for his mining camp but he had money to spare this time. Enough to buy a few more claims or get the tool he would need to start digging down into the earth, searching for veins of rich ore beneath the desert.





*The Boys That Wore The Green by William Woodburn

Well, this'd been an exciting afternoon. Nothing to welcome you back from four days in the desert like an angry marshal and a hell of a lot of pistols. Kate spurred Gunsmoke forward down main street, firing the occasional shot over her shoulder. She had to be wise with her shots- she only had a six-shooter pistol and she'd already wasted 3 bullets. Her ammo and other weaponry was safely stowed in her saddle bag, which she didn't dare reach for until she'd escaped main street and the threat of a bullet in the back.

Above the pound of hoofbeats, Kate heard, much to her surprise...singing? Coming towards her? Who walks towards gunfire? Singing, no less! She peered through the dust churning around her, making out the hazy shape of a man and a pack mule. And what was said man holding? A gun, of course.

The rifle was resting on his shoulder, and Kate took a small amount of comfort knowing that her pistol was already drawn and she could easily fire off two shots before he ever hoisted his gun. He didn't cut a particularly imposing figure, this dusty man with his beraggled mule, but hey, she wasn't about to underestimate anyone with a firearm. But why, why, why was this crazy miner blocking her path? Christ, why was everyone trying to be a hero these days?

"Clear out!" she hollered, racing towards the man. He wasn't moving, and neither was she. No, Kate had set her course, and she intended to stay on it. The mule was balking, braying and stomping in the ornery way mules do, but the man was at least twice as stubborn as the animal, and he wasn't going anywhere. "Dammit! Clear out, I said!" she yelled.

The man looked at her without concern. She was mere yards from him now, and she made a last ditch effort to make a point. She fired a shot at the man's feet, sending a blast of dirt into the air. Now she was mad. Not only was he in her way, he'd made her waste a bullet!

She oughtta put a bullet through his head right now, teach him not to mess with a hardened outlaw. And she probably would've, too, except that Gunsmoke made up his mind before Kate, and, being a well-reasoned animal who knew it was easier to go around things than through them, the horse veered left, very narrowly avoiding the terrified mule. Spotting an opening between two buildings, Kate shook her head in disgust and turned a hard left, a cloud of choking dust appearing from under Gunsmoke's hooves as the pair skidded off main street, tore down a short, narrow alley, and galloped onto a smaller side street.

Gunshots rang through the air, causing Jan to both jolt awake and knock over a half empty bottle of whisky from last nights events. carefully he raised from the bed trying to both shake off and remember last nights events. A quick survey of his surrounding proved that he was in one of the upstairs guestrooms in the silver spurs and the disturbance seemed to have came from outside the bar.

Stealing a quick look out the window revealed that the so called "marshal" was recklessly shooting of his gun at someone riding off into the distance on a shrouded horse. Everyone that didn't have a ball to spare rushed inside their houses and shops faster than the now distant figure could fire bullets. Jenny quickly rushed to his side armed to the teeth, both guns drawn and slowly approaching the the line of fire babbling something about wildcatkate and hows she's a dangerous one.

"What the hell is that Arschloch doing?"He muttered to himself as he reached for the nearest article of clothing. Quickly he dressed himself(not to say orderly), and rushed down the small set of stairs faster than his stubby legs could carry him. There were very few people in the bar, being as it was a slow day and all. His eyes scanned the room, finding the nearest person to be a scruffy gold miner.

"You!"He barked, pointing a chubby finger at the vagabond."Tell me, what is the täuschen doing?"

"I'm too good for the likes of you." Alex retorted, "Compared to some of the men I've killed, you're just a petty thief."
Alex ignored Jenny's warning for the aforementioned reasons and proceeded to fire a shot at Kate with his revolver, but missed as she served away due to an oncoming miner. Damn, only 7 bullets left before he would have to reload. Alex swore loudly before whistling to call up his own horse, Gale.
"Jenny, help me chase her down." Alex ordered, "For all we know she could have a whole gang waiting for her to return, so I might need an extra gun."
Alex began running after Kate and quickly mounted Gale and hurtled after Kate. Gale was an American Standardbred, and lived up to his name through his speed.

Alex had seen the path Kate had taken, so she hadn't managed to throw him off her trail. Once she was once again in sight, Alex kicked Gale's sides to make him go faster so he could catch up to Kate. He wasn't going to waste bullets firing at a target moving that quickly, he was going to wait until he was close and then tackle her off her horse. He might even slit her throat if she resisted.

Emerging onto the smaller street lined with the shops of smaller tradesmen (saddler, blacksmith, etc.), Kate was sure she was in the clear. Travelling at the speed she was, she was only 5 minutes away from escaping the town and galloping up and over the hills. God only knew what lay beyond the town, but it had to be better than a snarling lawdog and his gun-happy girl snapping at her heels.

She'd left that miner in the dust, and there was no way he was coming after her with that mule. As for the marshal...well, she hadn't seen a horse when she was riding in, but then again she hadn't gotten very far before he'd fired his first shot and ordered her down. For all she knew, he was mounting up right now.

As if to confirm her suspicions, a second set of hoof beats rang out behind her. Whatever he was riding, it was fast and fresh. Gunsmoke just might be the fastest pair of hooves in the west, but she'd been riding him for near seven hours now with only a short break at a muddy creek bed. Probably not the wisest decision to have come galloping into town, but hell, Kate loved to make an entrance, and wise decisions never had been her specialty.

She didn't hear any more gunshots; it seemed the marshal was concerned with bullet conservation as well, and Kate weighed her options, wondering if it was worth it to swing around and go hunting through her saddle bag for another pistol. No, he was too close. The sound of his horse, snorting and breathing hard, was fast approaching; he was definitely gaining.

What to do, what to do? There was a saloon on her right, a quiet little establishment that probably had a great deal of trouble competing with the larger and more impressive Silver Spur on main street. There were 3 horses out front, saddled and drinking from the water trough. She calculated five seconds for a change of mount. What would those five seconds cost her? Gunsmoke was tiring, there was no way she could outrun a fresh horse on him. He was smart enough to head for the hills once Kate got off, but she hesitated to leave him with her other weaponry still in her saddle bag.

The saloon was just yards away now. Time to make a decision. Whipping around to snatch up her saddle bag, Kate thrust her feet from the stirrups and poised herself to leap onto the antsy paint horse now prancing nervously before her. With a whoop and a holler, Kate sprung from the saddle and leapt atop the paint, hastily scooping up the reigns and turning him away from the post. Gunsmoke had taken off, the empty saddle bouncing on his back, and Kate clapped her heels into the fresh mount's sides. "Better hurry, Marshal!" she crowed over her shoulder, urging the paint horse forward.

And she was off again, galloping through the town with wind tearing through her hair and a wild look in her eye. Wildcat Kate was back with vengeance.

Morgan watched the stranger enter the bar, nodding in response to the strange soul who'd drifted in. He looked beraggled, scruffy at best, but a trip through the desert'll do that to you. He wandered over to a table, as if blown by an invisible wind, and sat down, immediately fixing his eyes on the table. A very pensive fellow, indeed.

He could've stayed to chat, but Morgan had already wasted the better part of the day in the Silver Spur, and it was high time he got back to his tidy little office and had himself a nap. He didn't hear any more gun shots, but that didn't mean it was over. More likely, Alex was just being careful with his bullets. Fingering the gun holstered in his belt, Morgan pushed his way through the double door of the saloon and stepped out onto the porch.

Alex's horse was gone, which meant he'd given chase. "Better you than me," he muttered, shaking his head. He himself had walked to the Silver Spur, as his office was only a few storefronts away on Splitcreek's main street, and he headed that way now. His office was in the opposite direction from the chase, which was good; he wouldn't have to listen to the racket of a showdown. Hopefully whatever low-life outlaw had ridden into town hadn't brought friends.

Headed for his office, Morgan caught sight of a new wanted poster that'd recently been put up. It was a woman this time. Uncommon, but not at all unheard of. "Wildcat Kate". He snorted, shaking his head. Well damn, she had herself a proper nickname and everything. For amusement, he looked over the other wanted posters, noting a certain "Richard The Bell-Ringer", among many other outlaws. Seemed there were new posters appearing everyday. He whistled through his teeth as he saw what "Mister Bell" was wanted for, scanning the long list of charges. A very grisly fellow, certainly not someone you'd want to run into on a dark night.

Reaching his office, Morgan headed up the two steps to the porch of the sagging wooden building and sat himself down in a rocker, his hand on his gun as he drifted off to sleep.

Damn, this girl could ride a horse well. However, it wasn't that surprising considering she was a notorious criminal, and would need to ride well in order to escape the law. She had now committed two more crimes since she had met Alex, resisting arrest and horse theft. Despite the fact she was riding a fresh horse and Alex was still riding the same horse, Alex still reckoned he could catch up to her on Gale, since he was young, strong and a capable steed.

Alex was right, he was soon neck and neck with Kate.
"It looks like you're about to get declawed, Wildcat." Alex smirked as he hurled himself from Gale's saddle at Kate in an attempt to knock her off her horse and shove her to the ground. He had certainly jumped at the right angle and he was stronger than Kate, he just had to hope she wouldn't be able to shoot him before he had her on the ground.

So leaving Gunsmoke hadn't been the best decision. The horse she'd chosen, while athletic and fast, was inexperienced and nervous, and gave Kate a fair amount of trouble as she urged him forward. He wasn't fond of strangers with spurs, but Kate wasn't fond of uncooperative horses, and she gave him a good slap on the rump to get him going.

The startled horse jumped forward, but swerved sideways, and Kate muttered a string of foul curses under her breath as she struggled to get her steed back on course. The marshal was gaining ground, and Kate was growing desperate. It was time to shoot him and put an end to this wild chase, never mind the no-kill policy. She looked over her shoulder, ready to train her pistol on the marshal's head, but he'd vanished. Whipping back around, she found him to be right beside her, riding hard and fast. The horses were running side by side, Kate's horse actually glad to have the company of a confident mount. Some getaway horse he'd proven to be.

Kate's eyes flashed surprise, and she struggled to reposition her pistol, determined to blow a hole through the gut of the cocky lawdog who dared to challenge her. Her fingers fumbled as her horse's hoof picked up a rock, and she cried out in alarm as she saw the marshal preparing to launch himself at her. In a last ditch effort to escape him, she jerked the reigns left, but this only served to aggravate an already frightened horse, and her mount clung to Gale's side.

As the large form of The Sentinel flew towards her, Kate ducked low and sat deep, hoping her minimal mass and sheer determination were enough to keep her in the saddle.

No such luck. The air left Kate's lungs in a terrific whoosh as the marshal crashed into her full force, driving her from the saddle. It was like being hit by a freight train. The outlaw hit the dirt with a thud and yelp, taken aback by the pain of hitting the ground after being tackled from a horse galloping 40 mph. The few seconds it took to get her breath back seemed an eternity to Kate, but when air finally filled her lungs again she took to thrashing and bucking and like a bronco, all the while trying to regain her grip on her pistol and blow the marshal into the next state.

Alex smashed into Kate like a cannonball, knocking her from her newly stolen horse's saddle into the dirt path. She tried to grab her distant revolver, but did so in vain. Alex kicked it away to make it even harder for her to grab it and shoot him. He kneed her in the stomach, hopefully winding her so she couldn't thrash about any more. While she was pinned down, Alex pulled a coil of rope from his duster coat with which he bound Kate's hands and feet.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Alex chuckled before lighting yet another cigarette and proceeding to smoke it, "You're coming with me back to Splitcreek, I hope you don't mind spending a few years in the cells."
With that, Alex hoisted her up onto the back of Gale, mounted him, then slowly rode back to Splitcreek, making sure not to let Kate fall off Gale's rump.

Upon arriving back at Splitcreek, an appalling scene presented itself to Alex. Doc was dragging a dead man into his office, Jenny was looking like she had just seen a ghost and was pleading with Jethro and Hass was present and backed by a group of miners. Alex dismounted Gale, spat his cigarette into the dirt, ground it up and then walked over to the scene. These were truly dark days for Splitcreek.
"Alright then, what's happened?" Alex sighed, "I want to know exactly what happened, if any of you lie I'll make sure you're given a harsh punishment."

Kate snarled as Alex kicked her pistol away, watching helplessly as the gun went sliding across the dirt, coming to a stop some ten feet away. And where was her other pistol? Galloping away on the back of her former "getaway" horse. Fantastic.

She continued her thrashing, clawing and hissing as if she really were some feral animal. Her struggling came to an abrupt halt as Alex's knee made it's way to her stomach, and she found herself gasping for breath as the marshal produced a length of rope from his coat and proceeded to bind her hands and feet. Wasn't she a sight, all trussed up like a holiday hog! Kate didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit. She especially hated the smug look on the marshal's face as he lit another cigarette and put it to his lips, looking down on as if she were worth less than the dirt she was lying on.

"Not if you don't mind putting up with yours truly," she said, flashing a smile that looked more like a grimace. Her hatred was only barely contained, but anger didn't get you much unless you had a gun in her hand.

Back to Splitcreek he said. Splitcreek. So that was the name of the little mining town. And she was soon to become a permanent resident of the place, rotting away in a cell. She poised herself to kick out at the marshal as he bent to pick her up, her body coiled like that of an angry rattle snake, but in her compromised position Alex had no trouble throwing her atop his horse, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a sack of feathers.

She was quiet the whole ride back, which was unusual for her, for one of Kate's greatest pleasures was hurling insults, particularly at worthless lawdogs. But the marshal had her licked, at least for now, and she needed an escape plan. She craned her neck to see town as they rode in, unable to help her smile as she took in the chaotic scene. Oh yes, this would do nicely.

Alex dismounted, leaving Gale standing quietly with Kate still belly-down across his rump. With the marshal distracted and his horse unattended, she could hardly have asked for better circumstances. Well, it'd be nice if her hands and feet weren't bound, but she'd take care of that momentarily. Drawing her knees up under her, Kate prepared to roll off the horse, eyeing the ground warily. It would hurt, no question, but a little pain seemed a small price to pay for her freedom. Drawing in a breath, she tumbled off Gale, taking the brunt of the fall on her shoulder. It was hardly graceful, and she landed with a rather un-ladylike "oof" followed by a string of muttered curses, but she was off.

She looked back toward the marshal, but he looked to have his hands full, and she smiled to herself. There was a knife in her pocket that she had no hope of reaching, but her spurs might be sharp enough to do the trick. Contorting into a truly bizarre position, Kate brought her bound wrists to her spurs and began, through a series of odd thrusts, to saw the rope back and forth across her spurs. The rope was thick, the knot well-tied, but Kate refused to give up.

No way was Wildcat Kate spending the rest of her life in a cell. She had banks to rob, liquor to drink, a man to kill! Finally the rope broke with a satisfying snap, and Kate hurriedly dove her hand in her pocket, producing the small hunting knife that, while useless in a knife fight, made an excellent saw. She started in on the rope around her boots, but she knew she was short on time- a group of rowdy miners and a dead man could only occupy him for so long. Would there be enough time?

"Well pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Bonnie, My name is-" Damian started to say when his possibly newfound friend had to hurry to the Marshall's office, as if she was in a hurry to see him and tell him something. He frowned to himself and slowly finished the sentence he started out. "Damian Kovacs. Aw heck, why don't I ever talk when it matters, you know what I mean Abram?" he asked his horse in a bit of a peeved manner. Sighing he let the subject drop when he saw a Horseman riding back with a tied-up woman in men's clothing.

"That must be the Marshall." Damian said to himself as he gave pause to think on what to do. "Should I go to him or should I not?" The question was answered for him when he saw the man dismount and talk to several people on a dispute. "Well he's got his hands full then... wait a minute, why didn't he take the prisoner with hi-? Aw Hell no! Opportunity comes knocking at that time for a little bit of a last attempt to escape!"

He then spouted several curses to himself before calming down. "No, I stopped being Nomad years ago. Not gonna start up being Nomad again... I'm going to get something t' eat, Marshall can just catch her again." He muttered to himself before putting on his hat and walking into the saloon once more, walking back to the table he was sitting at, pint and all, dropping some coins onto it as he sat back down. "Bartender, some of your hot food please, soup I reckon'll do." he called in his calm, tired voice.

Bell remained sitting on the bench and watched the chaos unfold. An angry mob, bodies on the street and now a man riding into town with a girl tied and hanging over his horse. Bell doubted it was the sheriff that came riding down the dusty street. He doubted there even was a sheriff in this dirty little town, all the better for him and the crew. Speaking of which, he should probably get back to them and see if they managed to get the camp up without getting someone killed. He got up and put the bottle of whiskey back into the bag and got up. He heard a thud and a grunt and looked to where the sound came from only to find the hogtied prisoner on the lawdog's horse on the ground trying to free herself. He made his way over to her with a few quick steps and looked down at her struggling to cut off the last rope with her knife.

'' I reckon you ain't waiting for your trial Missy?'' He asked and grinned, kneeling down. This town needed some better lawdogs, hell the poor man over by the miners seemed to be the only one trying to enforce the law. Which made attempts of escape like this dusty girl on the ground possible. She was sawing away with her little knife and it wasn't going that fast. Luckily for her Bell felt generous today and he pulled out his knife from his boot with one fluid motion and quickly cut the ropes off, the knife was gone before any housewife who had nothing better to do then mind other people's business could blame him for helping a convict.

He got up and dusted his chaps off. He flashed her a bright smile and touched the edge of his hat.

'' You play nice now Missy and run off before you find yourself hogtied again you hear?'' He said and dragged her up on her feet. He left without waiting for her response and began walking to the saloon. No time for drinks or a game of cards. He was just getting his trusty stallion The Colonel from outside the saloon before he headed off into the the wild to meet his crew.

Kate cringed as she heard the crunch of boots on the rocky road, certain she was done for. The knife in her hands was perfectly useless as a weapon, but she pointed it towards the sound all the same, ready to drive what was essentially a 2 inch butter knife into the chest of whoever was coming for her. If she escaped this, she really would have to get herself a better blade. She used to have a real nice one, big and sharp and all engraved in silver, but she'd lost it gambling, and she hadn't had time to procure a proper replacement.

The owner of the foot steps finally came into view and knelt beside her, flashing a bright smile. Well, wasn't he a charmer, making jokes and coming to her rescue? Kate disliked him on sight. But then, it didn't really matter if she liked him, so long as he had a proper knife, and he did. Her pride was injured (it was a little embarrassing for the famed outlaw to be caught in her current position), but not nearly so bad as her shoulder, which ached something awful from her tumble off Gale, not to mention the marshal's tackle. The mystery man made quick work of what was left of the ropes, cutting them away in one swift motion, and before she could protest he'd hauled her to her feet.

She felt the color rise to her cheeks as he spoke to her in his condescending way, but she wasn't really in a position to tell him off, especially with the marshal just a few feet away. But "play nice now, Missy"? Really? "It's Kate," she muttered, but stopped herself there. Wasn't any reason to go calling attention to herself just because this low life thought he was some kind of hero. She bit her tongue, situated her black Stetson on her head, and graced him with her sweetest of smiles (which, because she was who she was, wasn't all that sweet). Perhaps thanks were in order, but manners weren't really Kate's forte, and she didn't have time to exchange formalities. She had a horse to collect, a robbery to plan, and an outlaw to find.

He was on his way before she got out a word, which was just fine by her. With a final glance over her shoulder, Kate disappeared down an alley and out of sight.

Kate walked with her head down and the brim of her Stetson low, hoping to escape town unseen. If she'd known she was so popular in the little hellhole of Splitcreek she'd never have raised such a fuss in the first place, but how was she supposed to know there was a wanted poster with her face on it on every damn building? It wasn't even a particularly flattering drawing. That is, she'd seen much better.

She passed only a few people on her way out of town, just a couple half-drunk men headed for the saloon. Hell, that was where she should be! Instead, she was off to the blasted desert to find her horse. Splitcreek was a bust, but the next town was miles from here, which meant more long days in the saddle under a scorching sun, and she hardly relished the thought of roasting to death. She might be buzzard food before she saw another living soul! She passed a hand over her tired face, her hand coming away with a disturbing amount of dust and sweat. She needed a bath. And a drink. A couple drinks. ...A lot of drinks.

But it looked like her luck was finally looking up. Someone had left their tired old cattle horse tied up outside what looked to be a whorehouse on the edge of town. Well, he wouldn't be needing it for a while, would he? And surely the marshal didn't expect her to walk out of town after that trying escape she'd pulled. She was a lady, dammit! Looking out across the deserted side street, Kate smiled to herself and sidled over to the horse, who pinned back his ears.

"Hiya, fella. Let's you and I take a stroll, hm?" Not waiting for the horse's consent, Kate snatched up the reins and hopped on, kicking the tired animal into a steady lope. Even at its lazy pace, Kate was out of sight in minutes, and she took off into the hills beyond the town, headed towards the mining claims.

It was late afternoon by now, the sun getting low in the sky, and in the glare of the sinking sun Kate made out the silhouette of an unassuming animal chomping grass in the distance. Gunsmoke was ambling along, quiet as you please, eating his way across Arizona. Shaking her head, Kate gave a sharp whistle, and the big bay lifted his head and trotted over, taking his sweet time. She quickly ditched her replacement mount for Gunsmoke's familiar saddle, though not before going through the horse's saddlebag, which, to Kate's disappointment, contained only a broken banjo string and an empty flask.

It seemed Splitcreek held nothing for her, which meant it was time to move on. She was none too happy about riding through the night, but she needed to put as much distance between her and the town as possible. Kate spurred Gunsmoke forward and the pair headed West, trotting through the scrubby underbrush. Some five minutes had passed when they passed a pair of miners headed back to town, talking excitedly about something.

"...it's true! Daniels saw 'em jest yesterday, tearin' across the desert! Says they're headed straight for town!"
"Daniels is a drunk an' a fool!"
"You won't be sayin' that when Tuesday's men come a' knockin' atcher door, lookin' fer yer gold!"
"I'll believe it when Bill Tuesday himself looks me in the eye!"

Kate drew in a sharp breath, wheeling Gunsmoke around. Bill Tuesday, Terror of the West...coming to Splitcreek? This was it. This is what she'd been waiting for. Back to Splitcreek it was.

Kate approached Splitcreek with caution this time around, riding in quietly. Her objectives had changed since her first ride in, and she needed to be careful. She needed a new wardrobe, a good knife, and a place to lie low for awhile. And some booze. That certainly wouldn't hurt.

Since she was now pegged in people's minds as the woman in man's clothing, the next logical step was to trade out her pants and Stetson for a dress and a bonnet. But Kate did not do frills and ruffles of any kind, and wanted woman or not, that wasn't about to change. Gunsmoke was also a dead giveaway, as plenty of people had seen her tearing through town on the big bay earlier that day. When choosing her horse some 3 years before, she'd been careful to choose a nondescript mount, no flashy colors or markings, but standing at 16 hands, Gunsmoke's size made him easily recognizable. She'd have to ditch her partner in crime, at least for awhile.

Kate spotted a livery up ahead and weighed her options, wondering if the place was the safe. Probably not, what with all the law dogs prowling town. "Sorry, fella," she said, patting the horse's neck. She spotted a lean-to on a nearby hill some 50 feet beyond the town's outermost buildings and headed towards it. It was a weathered, decrepit building, presumably abandoned when newer and better buildings started popping up. It might've once been used as a place to sell mining supplies, but now served as a home to lizards and spiders hiding out in the beaten wood. And now it would become Gunsmoke's temporary stable. The lean-to was about 8'X8', a ramshackle shack with three walls and a roof. The one open side faced away from the town, so unless anyone trudged up the hill and came looking, Gunsmoke wouldn't be spotted.

She dismounted and switched out Gunsmoke's bridle for a handy rope halter; though she left him saddled in case things took a turn for the worse and she needed to make a quick getaway. After collecting some cash from the coin purse stashed under the back of Gunsmoke's saddle, she headed back down the hill and into town, her twitching fingers tapping against the form of the holstered pistol on her hip. She'd decided to leave her Stetson in the lean-to with Gunsmoke, and busied herself with the smoothing down of her bedraggled braid. She looked a mess, and she badly needed a change of clothes.

It was easy enough to pluck a weather-beaten wide brim hat off the head of a sleeping miner, and while it hardly made a convincing disguise, she was at least able to shade her eyes. There was business to attend to, questions to ask....but first...first a trip to the saloon. She figured she'd earned her whiskey for the day, and if things went sour there'd be plenty of people around to create enough of a disturbance that she could slip away in the chaos. So off to the Silver Spur it was.

Kate sidled down the town's main street, toying with the tail of her unkempt braid. She hadn't seen a wash basin in days, and her scruffy appearance made for an interesting pairing with her (stolen) silver belt buckle and other flashy embellishments. Her beloved six shooter was strapped to her hip, and she had various weapons stashed on her person, though she hoped she wouldn't be using them again tonight. Her only "disguise" was the hat she'd stolen off the head of a sleeping miner, and she knew she wasn't doing a particularly good job of blending in.

Yes, after four days in the desert, the fiendish outlaw was not looking, or feeling, her best. But Bill Tuesday was coming. Or so they said. She was going off the words of a drunken miner, but Kate didn't care. It'd been weeks since she'd heard word of the hated outlaw, and the very mention of his name made her blood boil. Even now she could feel the familiar itch in her hands, the tightening in her chest... Oh yes, Tuesday's days were numbered.

But she wouldn't be shooting anyone from behind bars, which meant it really was time for a change of wardrobe. And because her last robbery had been particularly fruitful, she could even afford to do it legally. It was getting to be late afternoon by this time, between 4 and 5 in the afternoon, and she searched the main street for a tailor, hopefully some quiet, half-blind man who wouldn't recognize her freckled face from wanted posters.

Instead, she found a hotel. It was an older building, probably one of the town's first, and it might've once been a grand sight, but the wood was now sagging and the paint peeling. The wooden structure sat like some aged queen clinging to her last bit of elegance, trying desperately to project some element of grandeur despite its lack luster exterior. Kate liked it immediately. She smiled to herself and headed inside, fingering the weighty bag of coins and bills hidden under her shirt.

The man at the front desk sat at the very edge of his chair, his big, bug-like eyes fixed on the entrance. He flashed a toothless grin the minute Kate stepped in the door, bounding from his chair and hopping over to the outlaw on his spry little legs. He moved rather like a grasshopper, and looked like one, too, with his already large eyes magnified by a pair of shiny spectacles perched on the end of his nose. "Welcome to the Alhambra Inn!" he smiled. "What can I do ya for?"

Kate raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the zealous man. "One room. And I'd like you to keep it quiet," she added, spilling a few coins into her hand and offering them to him.

The grasshopper of a man snatched up the coins and gave her a clandestine wink, bouncing off towards the stairs. "Right right right. Come along! Come along! You're slower 'an molasses in January!" he crowed. Kate followed tentatively after, giving a last look over her shoulder before slinking up the stairs.

The man guided her to a quiet little room at the back of the inn, and Kate slid a few extra bills into his hand as a parting gift. "Anyway I could get a change of clothes?" she asked.

"Sure, sure. Don't know whatcha wanna go around dressed like that fer," he said, gesturing to the men's clothing hanging off her slender frame, "but I can getcha something to wear...for a price."

Kate smiled. Now here was a man she could do business with. She gave him a few more coins and retired to her room, immediately heading over to the wash basin to scrub the desert grit from her face. She did the best she could to wash up, and briefly considered spritzing herself with the feminine perfumes on the bureau, but decided against it. Kate wasn't any desert rose...prickly pear cactus was more like it. Her nimble fingers worked through her knotted blonde hair, picking through the worst bits and quickly doing up her signature braid. The little man was timely, and returned within a quarter hour with a pair of freshly laundered trousers, a maroon-colored shirt, and, much to her surprise, a dress.

"Jest in case you chase yer mind," he shrugged, tossing the clothes unceremoniously onto the bed. Kate fingered the fabric of the simple calico dress, trying to recall the last time she stepped out in something so...feminine. It wasn't anything special, not even a particularly attractive cut or style, but there was something about it that reminded Kate of better and brighter days spent in cute little kitchens, helping her mother prepare tea. She hated it.

She tossed the dress away in disgust and slipped into the trousers and shirt, regarding her reflection in the mirror. Slanted grey eyes, almost feline in appearance, stared back at her, cold and unforgiving as a piece of flint. New clothes, same Kate. She grabbed the miner's hat from the bed and plunked it on her head, slipping out the door and down the hall. The little man was still perched at the front door when she came down the stairs, ready and tense as ever, and he gave her a knowing nod as she headed out into Splitcreek's sun-baked streets.

The sun was sinking, and with the darkening of the sky came a welcome coolness. Kate was never more at ease than under the cloak of night, and after her successful escape earlier in the afternoon, she was more than ready to explore the little mining town, see if there was any fun to be headed whilst she waited for Tuesday. Who knew? The town of Splitcreek might hold promise yet.