Miss Elizabeth Culpeper's Story

San Miguel should have been a one horse town but the usually rift raft of bandits and thieves kept it in constant supply of the equine kind. Of course, that was not why Miss Elizabeth Culpeper and her band of merry men found themselves in the Saloon of that very town. No, the party came with an agenda. Some may call it noble but most . . . no doubt would think it down right criminal.

Yet, as Miss Elizabeth Culpeper put it so eloquently to her men, "Is it really thieving if you're thieving from a thief?" Naturally, no body could argue with that. That was how the folks of James River Farm found themselves chuckling along with the rest of the patrons of the Saloon as an out of place Miss almost found her face flattened by wood.

Miss Ellie Culpeper and some of her most trusted and loyal servants and farmhands soon turned back into their circle at the corner of the bar. All with whiskey in hand. A little courage before the almost impossible feet.

"Now, listen up boys." Ellie began in hushed tones. "The news is, there's a train coming in hot here in about thirty minutes or so. All that stinky fingered loot and dollars sitting there in that crooked bank across the way is being taken to an even bigger crooked back all the way to Washington. Now you all know what to do don't you?"

The four men nodded in unison. Concentration and the gravity of the situation upon their features as they listened carefully to the woman dressed as a man. Her corset hidden under her coat and those long legs covered in unlady like pants that could barely be seen beneath boots that came past knee high. She dirtied up good for a woman of fine breeding.

"Ya'll know why we need to do this-" She stopped and breathed in quickly. "Ya'll know I'd never ask any of you to risk your li-"

"Miss Ellie." Interrupted a tall obsidian farmhand. His voice gentle, in stark contrast to his fierce appearance. "I know we'd all do anythin, just anythin for ol' Mr Culpeper."

"That's right there girly." Added Bo Bedford leaning his sturdy frame back against the dirty bar; who did odd jobs on the farm for as long as Ellie could remember. He had scruffy blonde hair with an even scruffier beard that was turning ever so slightly silver these days and the man would never be caught short without a toothpick between his teeth. "I couldn't have said it better than Atticus here myself."

"I agree." Pipped up Sawyer, a young man in his twenties with golden blonde hair that framed his face, who also worked hard on the farm. No one knew much about Sawyer, only that he came to steal a cow about five years ago, Lord only knew why or what for but found himself working on the farm after Mr Culpeper caught him and spoke to him and never left. Sawyer didn't say much. He was as secretive as he was handsome and that was abundantly.

George, another black servant of the household nodded again heartily.

"Good men." Ellie smiled with renewed reassurance. She knew she could count on these men with their lives and her own, nevertheless, it was good to hear it. "Now, as soon as we leave this bar we're all strangers. We go our separate ways. However, as soon as that train rolls in . . ." The whiskey in her glass sloshed as she moved her hand like a train coming into station. "We all get on as fast. And as inconspicuously as we can. Real casual like. Old Billy's got horses waitin' on us in Bunkie, ready for us as soon as we disembark. Now, I don't need to go over what happens there on the train or after we get to Bunkie do I?"

The men shook their heads and Ellie breathed in deeply tipping her hat at them and they did the same in return. "Well boys, it's gonna be one hell of a ride." To which they all clinked glasses and downed the hard whiskey. A crocked grin on each of their face.

They were ready.

The heels of Vivian's black shoes clicked against the steps as she walked downstairs, mentally preparing herself for another long, grueling day of work. She had many responsibilities to tend to within the saloon - waiting on customers, bussing tables, and, when it got later in the day, dancing for entertainment. It had taken her a long time to learn how to dance well, but she'd eventually managed. After almost ten years working in the saloon, she liked to consider herself quite good at her job.

As she rounded the corner into the main area of the saloon, she was relieved to see that it wasn't too terribly busy. There was a pair of men who'd just come down the stairs ahead of her, a small group in a corner with drinks already served, and a man engaged in conversation with the local schoolteacher. Vivian didn't know the woman's name - they were around the same age, so she'd obviously never taught Vivian as a child. Had they gone to school together? Vivian couldn't be sure. Generally, the only people whose names she took care to learn were the male regulars who tipped well. Anyone else, even people who came in all the time, was just another face to her.

Vivian strolled over to the counter, glancing around again. There didn't seem to be anybody who needed their flagon topped up just yet, so she had some time to stand around and look pretty until someone called her over for service.