Description

Personality

Lucy's success in Splitcreek was largely due to her calm, almost icy demeanor. She prided herself in remaining cool and collected even in the face of the most rowdy crowds. There was no room in Splitcreek for a businesswoman with a heart. Only with quiet calculation could one survive on their own in the western territories. Becoming indifferent was necessary, although it had its faults. The last time Lucy laughed, for example, was nearly two years earlier in New York City. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Not that it mattered. She adapted to her circumstances, and she made a new "proper" life for herself. That's all she needed to keep going.

History

Lucilla Flynn was born in Boston to Liam and Cassidy Flynn, their only child. Lucy's childhood was happy and whole, enjoying days with her mother and enthusiastically awaiting her father's return from the factory at night. When Lucy was eight years old, her father abandoned them. She never knew why, and she never saw him again. All her mother would tell her was, "He's with his own kind now." Not soon after they moved to New York City, where Lucy's adolescence was far less pleasant than her childhood. Lucy and her mother, working as seamstresses, didn't make a very high wages, and out of necessity they shared a room in a boarding house with two other families.

Lucy vividly remembered at the end of each day, when they walked home from work, tired and sore and bruised, her mother would clasp her hands and plead, "Forgive me for our hardship, my dearest doll. I pray someday you'll have a proper life. Promise me you'll live a proper life."

"I promise, mama." Lucy would always reply, without fail.

But then, one night when she was 15, Lucy found herself walking home alone. Her mother decided to stay late at the factory and insisted Lucy get some sleep. Walking along the dark street, without her mother's comforting words, Lucy felt a bubbling hatred for her life. She hated going to bed hungry. She hated working before dawn until well into the night for next to nothing. She hated sharing a bed with people she hardly knew, who were just as poor as her. It was this moment she looked up and noticed a man hurrying along with a loaf of bread under one arm. She wanted that bread. Hell, she wanted his overstuffed money purse too. She wanted it, and she was going to get it. In a fit of rage, she picked up a stray brick, followed him down a narrow alley, and struck him in the back of the head. Lucy took his food and his money.

It startled her how easy it was. She took what she wanted, and now she had it. She had stumbled onto the concept of committing crime, and it intoxicated her. Without a word to her mother, Lucy packed her few belongings and left home. She never saw her mother again. At first, she thought she left to save her mother the embarrassment of having a thief of a daughter, but as the years went by, Lucy slowly realized that she left because of her own selfishness, her desire to live with wealth and luxury by any means necessary. A life one couldn't get living a "proper" life. What began as simple muggings soon developed into full on robberies and smuggling. But Lucy was content. She was surviving with a fortress of money around her that poverty couldn't penetrate.

When Lucy turned 24, she returned to Boston after years of moving up and down the east coast. It was there the unimaginable happened.

She became acquainted with one Gideon Donolov and she no longer felt content. Her happiness only returned when she accepted his marriage proposal. Sure, she had her enemies, and sure, he knew of her criminal history, but it didn't matter. Her wedding day made her feel complete, and her desire to take from others dissipated. Lucy actually didn't mind the thought of being poor, just as long as this man was by her side. She loved him, and for ten wonderful months, she was Lucilla Flynn-Donolov.

Alas, her wedded bliss came to an abrupt end.

Being a criminal, one makes enemies. When one makes as many enemies as Lucy did...one can't outrun them forever. Believing she was safe, she failed to notice the men hiding outside Gideon's home one cold night, and when the fighting subsided, Lucy survived, but her husband did not. He was her world, and now that world lay in shatters at her feet. Why? Why did this one true, right, proper thing in her life have to be taken away? Proper...Was that it? Was she being punished for failing to live a "proper" life, as her mother wanted so badly?

She needed to leave. She needed to go somewhere where no one knew her. Somewhere she could start fresh. Lucy took on her mother's maiden name, Winter, and headed to the western territories. Arriving in Splitcreek, Lucy instinctively knew this was were she would settle. She would live "properly", working a job and surviving.

Lucy prayed no criminal, or lawman for that matter, would recognize her. She prayed her past would stay just that.

So begins...

Lucilla Winter's Story

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Setting

Splitcreek, Arizona

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#2012-07-12 23:45:36, as written by truestory

"The books are done, Miss Winter."

Lucy glanced up from her paperwork. A tall, lanky man stood in the doorway, cleaning his glasses on his vest.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Tomas. You and Mr. Riley may leave for the day." she replied, reaching for her purse.


It had been a busy day. Business at Stalin & Co. Bank had been steady, of course, but it seems there was some outlaw activity in Splitcreek. Again.

The lobby of the bank contained a grand polished granite counter that nearly extended the length of the room. Behind this counter were two heavy desks accompanied by luxurious, stuffed velvet chairs meant for the clients. At the back of the large open space were two heavy oak doors. The left lead to Lucy's gleaming office; the right lead to the main vault. Lucy was quite proud of both rooms. Her office was comfortable yet professional, and the vault...it had taken nearly two months to be brought to Splitcreek, as it had been specially made by a company back in New York. Lucy herself made very specific special requests to the company in question, knowing certain vaults had certain faults that she use to take advantage of. No one she knew of could crack her vault. The only way to open it was with a key she kept on her person at all times. If anyone wanted to mess with her client's money, they'd have to mess with her.

Stalin & Co.'s building sat just off Main Street, and every gun shot and wild holler could be heard. Every time a shot was heard, Lucy would look up at her two employees, Johnathan Tomas and Zeke Riley. They would both look back at her, as if asking if it was safe to return to their work. They always did once they meant her glance. Lucy felt safe in her bank. This was hers. No one could touch her here. Still, she kept her employees well aware of the rifle compartments hidden in the front counter, and no matter where she went she always kept a pistol in her boot, her purse, and her corset. Even though she was positive no one recognized her in Splitcreek, it was always better safe than sorry.

Even though it was a hot day, Lucy still wore a fitted, long sleeved, sapphire blue dress that covered her up to the neck. After locking her office and the vault room, she pulled a pair of white satin gloves out of her purse and put them on, despite her simple, gold wedding band still being on her finger. It was the only reminder of her late husband she had kept. Upon looking up, she saw Mr. Tomas and Mr. Riley were still there.

"Were the ledgers and gold weights returned to the vault?" She asked, looking from one to the other. She told them they could go. Why were they still here? The bank had been closed for a good twenty minutes.

"Yes, Miss Winter." Mr. Riley, an older man with a round face, said. He glanced knowingly at Mr. Tomas before tilting his hat to Lucy. "Have a good evening, Miss Winter."

As Mr. Riley left, Mr. Tomas turned towards Lucy as he gathered his things. "You know, Miss Winter, you have been here for a number of months..."

Lucy stared at him. Up until now she had gotten use to her employees' punctual arrival and prompt departure. It was routine. It was followed every day without fail. She wasn't curious so much as she wanted, no, demanded to know why the routine was interrupted. She stayed silent as he continued.

"...Perhaps it would be good for business if you...gotten to know Splitcreek better."

"Mr. Tomas, to what are you referring?"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Winter, but every day I see you work from sun up to sun down here, then immediately return to your flat. Every day it's the same. You don't go anywhere. You have your food and laundry sent out. I'm terribly sorry to say, Miss Winter, but it isn't a healthy way to live, always alone."

"I am not always alone, Mr. Tomas," she replied quietly. He chuckled.

"Mr. Riley and myself don't count as a life's worth of company," he said, putting his hat on, "Have a good evening, Miss Winter."


Lucy stood for a long while after Mr. Tomas left, contemplating what he said. Until now she thought she had been living a proper life. But what if that also meant socializing with her fellow citizens? That thought frightened her mildly. What if she was tempted by someone to go back to her old ways? She couldn't go back to that. She owed it to her mother not to. Besides, Lucy felt she probably wouldn't be the best company. She knew how to run her business. She knew how to defend herself. Shoot, she knew how to take anything she wanted from others, whether it be their gold or their lives. But her skills when it came to social interaction were shaky at best.

Locking the doors of Stalin & Co. Bank behind her, Lucy exhaled slowly and looked up the road at Main Street. Perhaps her employees were right. After all, A simple walk around town wouldn't hurt, would it?

Exhaling once more, Lucy clutched her purse and started off down the street.

---

Setting

Splitcreek, Arizona

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#2012-07-15 00:02:20, as written by truestory

Lucy looked over her shoulder at Stalin & Co. It appeared abnormal to her, but perhaps that was because she had never seen it from this angle before. She allowed her gaze to wander.

The town of Splitcreek at sunset was actually quite a nice sight to see. The buildings of the main street stood proudly against the hillsides in the distance. Windows (the ones that weren't cracked or broken) glinted from the sun's dying light, reminding her only a little of the polished facades of the city. There was a lovely contrast between the light coming from inside and the dim, grey wood the buildings were made of. The sky above was a great many colors as the sun went down, relaxing into a velvety navy speckled with diamond-like stars.

This place could be profoundly beautiful were it not for the high crime rate.

Continuing down the road, Lucy took note of the other citizens on their way to wherever they were going. Her eyes settled on the Silver Spur Saloon for a moment. She could make out a few of their female "employees" through the window. Those women didn't sit right with her.

Her mother's voice echoed in her head, "Promise me you'll live a proper life..."

Lucy sat down on an old wooden bench across the street from the Silver Spur, where she had a good view of most of Main Street. The people still going about their business were interesting to watch, not to mention the air began to feel nice without the sun directly overhead. She tugged at her sleeves and collar to make sure they were just so, covering her skin.

Getting more familiar with Splitcreek seemed like a daunting task. But it had to be done.

---

Setting

Splitcreek, Arizona

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#2012-07-16 09:50:35, as written by Luv-is-a-Bug

Kate looked out at the main street from under the shade of the Alhambra Inn, swirling the toe of her boot in the dust. She had every intention of marching right over to the Silver Spur and having quite a few drinks at other people's expense (the money she had was, after all, not really her own, but stolen off various persons, businesses, etc.), but first needed to ensure the coast was clear. The issue of the stolen gold looked to have quieted down some, but the men were still hanging around the gunsmith's. Unfortunately for the murderous Hass, the miners had long since grown bored and were now thirsting for liquor rather than blood. To pass the time they were taking turns seeing who could spit the farthest, and none of them were doing particularly well.

A little further down the street sat a woman in a sapphire dress that, to Kate's untrained eye, looked both incredibly uncomfortable and highly impractical. Though a pair of trousers and a button-up shirt didn't make a particularly good disguise if you were trying to blend in as a female, they certainly made good riding clothes, and they were infinitely more practical for bank robberies and stage coach hold-ups and such.

There were other people about, but the woman on the bench and the group of miners looked to be the only stationary groups/persons, and lucky for Kate, neither had any idea of her presence. The marshal was nowhere to be seen (though she was certain he'd noticed her absence by now), and there seemed to be a general lack of action in Splitcreek. That is until three riders tore into town, shooting and hollering and making a scene. Some poor soul was being dragged behind them, and the gruesome scene cleared the streets in a hurry. It happened fast, too fast for Kate to process much anything, but she did know for certain that she was no longer the only outlaw in town.

When the screams of terrified women and cries of children had finally quieted down, Kate stepped out into the street and headed for the Silver Spur, taking care to avoid the mangled body now lying in the street. Christ, where was the town doctor when you needed him?

Kate heard Cooper before she saw him. He was, of course, cursing quite loudly, and creatively, too, filling the air with an impressive amount of colorful language. She stopped some thirty feet before the saloon and watched the unkempt man totter down the street, empty vodka bottle in hand, Stetson tilted at a rakish (and completely useless) angle. When the dust-caked man could no longer tackle the incredible challenge presented by walking, he fell/sat, in his very suave way, on his ass.

Eventually, the determined drunkard got to his feet again and made a valiant attempt to walk into the saloon, which ended with a broken vodka bottle and a very cross looking blonde woman standing over him. She made an attempt to return his hat, but with the alcohol-induced double vision, the poor cowboy didn't know which hat to grab. The blonde woman (who was also very fashionably/impractically dressed) looked to be at her wit's end with the man, and was looking around, presumably for someone to haul his sorry ass off to jail.

And Kate just couldn't let that happen. As someone who had enjoyed many a drink, it didn't seem fair to let the poor fool suffer for his inability to hold his liquor. Cue the charming (and definitely not an outlaw, don't mind the wanted posters) Kate, who hustled over to Cooper and Bonnie and flashed her biggest smile. "So sorry, Ma'am. This here's my brother, Virgil. He hurt his leg real bad 'bout a week ago, ain't that right, Virgil?" she asked the nearly incoherent Cooper, who mumbled another string of curses. "Anyway, he's been drinking to help the pain, and sometimes he has a little too much and just...wanders off." She gave Bonnie a "what're you gonna do?" shrug and hooked her hands under Cooper's armpits, attempting to haul him to his feet.

"Anyhow, I'll make sure to get him back to the house so he won't cause any more trouble." She smiled once more, and, before Bonnie could get in a word, proceeded to drag Cooper away from the saloon, huffing and puffing as she hauled him out of the sight. The minute she was sure the school teacher could no longer see Cooper's drunken form, she dumped him unceremoniously in the dirt and dusted off her hands, slumping down against the wall of the nearest building. She hadn't the slightest idea why she'd done what she had, but hell, if you were going to rescue a drunk, it might as well be a good looking one. And how lucky that the womanizing Mr. Winston should run into the one female Splitcreek who wasn't dressed as a female.

---

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Splitcreek, Arizona

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#2012-07-16 20:20:55, as written by truestory

Lucy stood up when she heard the gun shots and watched the outlaws ride up main street. She followed them with her eyes, unblinking and critical. Some of the other citizens shrieked and scattered, but Lucy was mildly interested in the shadowy heap they were dragging behind them. As they stopped in front of the Silver Spur, she realized it was a man. Beaten and bloody, the bandits cut the rope binding him to the horses.

'' We gut' a message to Mista' Hass!'' One of them yelled.

This wasn't proper. It wasn't right. Lucy reasoned that were the beaten man this Mr. Hass, the message would have already been sent given his state of being. Therefore, this poor wretched soul was probably only loosely related, and the "message" still needed to be delivered.

That didn't sit well with her.

Stepping forward from the bench, with her hands clutching her purse, she got a closer look at the man on the ground. He needed medical help badly. Looking up at the outlaw who had yelled, she straightened her shoulders.

"Sir, you need to leave," she said coldly, "This man needs a doctor. That is, if he isn't already dead."

---

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