The day was boiling hot, as most days usually were in the small town of San Miguel. Of course, Clementine wouldn't ever put that in a letter to her parents. Many of her letters depicted the town as quaint or comfortable when the most suitable adjectives would be dusty, filthy, and dangerous. The adventure thrilled her, but also kept her on her toes. More than once, a drunk male had wandered into the schoolhouse wielding a gun. Now, nothing life-threatening had happened to Clementine so far, but she was always kept on her toes.
Clementine was sewing at a small rickety table in her home, waiting for her loaf of bread to be finished baking. The home could barely be considered a home, but it was a home nonetheless. The one-room building contained a stove, bed, blanket, and a frayed rug that was so thin in some spots you could see the wooden floors beneath it. The young woman loved her home, though, despite its worn out appearance. She had bought it herself, with the small amount of money her parents sent with her. To her, it was a work in progress. To others, it was just messy.
The blonde stood suddenly, almost forgetting about the bread. She scurried over to the stove and opened the little stone door, revealing to her a perfect loaf of sweet bread. She took it out with a grin and did a little happy dance. It wasn't often that Clementine was able to bake her sweet bread, but when she did you bet it was fantastic. This particular loaf of bread was for the town bartender/innkeeper as a thank you for letting Clem and her students use the inn one evening for a performance. The children had put their heart and soul into the performance, and they had wanted to perform it for the entire town to see. Unfortunately, the schoolhouse was on the very edge of town and most parents didn't like their children wandering far from home when it was dark. So Clementine struck up a deal with the bartender that she would get the whole saloon for a couple hours in exchange for a loaf of her town-famous sweet bread.
Once fully cooled, she took the bread and transferred it into a little wicker basket and laid a towel over the top, keeping the heat (and hopefully taste) inside. She set out of her home toward the saloon, keeping her head down and basket close to her breast the entire way. One only knows what kind of things you can encounter in this type of town.