#then i saw his hat come off while he was bein carted around and i was like

[sen-ya]

I was still in early Dressrosa when I did this one, the vibe’s still there of “Luffy started kissing Law cuz he figured it’d calm him down this man is obviously riddled with anxiety”

[thejollywriter]

Lena Talbot thought she had a good thing going for her, running with Rance Barrron’s gang. But after a stagecoach robbery goes wrong and end with violence and abandonment, she’s left to die in the high Rockies. Unexpectedly saved by a trapper, Eliza, she recovers and is faced with a choice. Accept a new life with Eliza. Or hunt the bastards who shot her in the back. 

It’s a good life in the Rockies. It’s hard, honest work. But Lena’s a hard-ass. And there’s inequity in her ledger. And she just can’t let it go. 

This is a historical Western written by ME, AMELIA FISHER, UPDATING ON WATTPAD!

https://www.wattpad.com/1114347969-gallows-and-gold-chapter-one-paying-work

So here’s the whole first chapter! 

***

Chapter One: Paying Work

Rance had me keep a lookout on the top floor of the brothel because he figured I’d be the only one not distracted by the dames. Me, bein’ Lena Talbot, didn’t figure a woman could be distracted by another woman.

Hadn’t the heart to correct him. Not that I minded. Mary sat on the bed behind me, legs crossed primly. The piano player wailed on the ivory downstairs, the sound trickled up to me on the third floor. In the rooms around us, I heard giggling, laughing, fucking. The work of a brothel.

Footsteps up and down the hallway. Clients, the Madame keeping an eye on things, girls moving back and forth.

Mary sighed. “When you’d paid, I figured it’d be work related, but we might still have some fun.”

“Rance catches me slacking, he’ll have my ass,” I said. This was a corner room, windows faced the north and the east. Had a great view of the main street below. The others were elsewhere, in their positions.

My job was to set off a firecracker when the target appeared. The pop would draw eyes, and surprise would be ours.

And then, functionally, I was to get down. Because whatever eyes we drew would lead to gunfire, I should think.

No sign of them yet.

Mary stood up. She wore a black corset, her linen shirt was pulled down past her shoulders and her nipples were barely hidden by the light, airy fabric.

“I’m sad now,” she said, and traced her fingers along the back of my arm. I pushed my hat back. I was in a vest, black slacks, sturdy boots, and a red shirt. Sleeves were rolled up, though, and my gun belt was black leather, too.

“I’m workin’,” I said, but I didn’t say it mean. I was leaned up against the wall. Antsy, waiting.

“Yeah but you gotta ignore me, too?”

“As opposed to what?”

She stood close to me now. Locks of dark hair hung in front of her eyes, she brushed a strand aside, pouted at me. I reached out, cupped her cheek, brushed a thumb over her lips.

“I’m workin’, darling.”

She sighed, looked out the window, I laid my arm around her waist. She had a hand on my chest, traced a finger down my front, idly.

If I kept my eyes out the window, I could touch her. Hike up her skirts, slip my fingers between her soft thighs, and find her pleasure. It’d be easy.

Up the street, I saw the wagon turn into view. I stiffened. She noticed, glanced at me, then up the road.

“It’s time?”

“Go on,” I said. “Keep your head down.”

“Alright.” She kissed my cheek. “Good luck.”

I watched her go, the door clicked closed softly, and I tugged the bandana around my neck into place over my nose. Hair tied up, hidden under my hat, all that could be seen were my eyes. And that wasn’t real telling.

I opened the window, pushed the drapes to one side, and held the firecracker in my hand, picked up a candle from the dresser to the side. Waited.

Across the way, on the rooftop of the general store, I saw Buck with his long gun.

If we got the surprise, no call for shooting.

Time.

I held the candle to the fuse, it caught and started to spark, I lobbed it out the open window, it popped in the air, I blew out the candle, and ducked.

People yelped, some surprised, the horses below whinnied in protest, but I heard running feet, a rolling wagon, and yelling voices.

The coach drivers hollered, reined their horses in to stop them crashing into the wagon Jimmy and Andy rolled to block the coach.

I mantled through the window, snagged my long gun, and stood up at the railing, rifle pointed down.

“Gentleman!” Rance called out and stepped into view. “Good morning! Let’s keep those hands to heaven! We’ve no interest in bloodshed but by God’s fiery right hand, if your palms touch iron we will fill you full’a holes.” Rance stood on top of the untethered wagon.

I aimed at the driver. The fella riding shotgun had a double-barrel in his hands, but there were eight people in the street surrounding the wagon, and he wasn’t stupid.

Two of ours moved up to the wagon doors.

“Gentleman, what you’re carrying is no longer yours to keep. Your job was deliver it to Leadville, and while I’m sure y’all had a different destination in mind, consider this your stepping-off point.”

“That gold don’t belong to you.” The driver said.

“Don’t belong to you neither, fella,” Rance said. “And while I’m sure your employers would love you to die for their cargo, it’s a foolish thing to do.”

“We got a job needs be done.” The driver said. “Move the wagon, let us get to it.”

“A bold idea, an idea I have to reject.” Rance said. “Who y’all carrying? Many guards inside?”

Our men moved to the door, the driver stared me down, and I think he was wondering just how fast he could pull his pistol and get a shot off.

Except he had nowhere to go. And if he tried to ram his horses through the wagon, it was as likely to get them killed and tip the wagon as it was to lead to freedom.

“I see ideas growing in that head, mister,” Rance said. “Eyes front, if you don’t mind.”

The driver looked at him. “You’ve got no idea what’s coming if you take this gold.”

The curtains were down in the wagon, the closest to the door had a sawn-off in hand and was pointed at the windows. He reached for the handle.

“Oh sure I do,” Rance said. “We’re gonna spend it, keep it in Leadville, see to it as many bellies as possible are filled. Your job was to take it to men who’ll hoard it.”

“Last warning.” The driver said.

A shot rang out ahead of me, I saw the smoke from Buck’s gun, the fella at shotgun pitched forward–

Our man opened the door, pointed the gun inside, a second shot fired and a cloud of gunsmoke billowed out into the street, Denny caught it square in the chest and jaw and it threw him down, blood misted the air with the smoke.

The driver went for his pistol, looked up at me, I fired before he cleared leather, his hat flew off behind him, Rance fired into his chest, and Buck fired again.

I jumped over the railing, dropped to the street below while the others focused fire into the wagon itself. Splinters flew off, gunsmoke hung thick in the air, thick and choking, people screamed and sprinted away from the street.

“Eyes west!” Rance yelled. “Buck, what do you see?”

“Sheriff’s runnin’ this way!” Buck was still up on the second floor of the general store and had his rifle to his shoulder. He fired at the lawmen, far away. The shots went wide, but it slowed them down while they took cover, began to return fire.

They’d flank around the side streets, and run up at us.

“We gotta be gone,” I said. “They’re gonna circle around and pin us!”

“Get my goddamn gold!” Rance roared. “Clear that fucking coach!”

I whipped around, approached the coach. I couldn’t see much inside, the curtains were tattered now, the interior was dark, I saw a couple of slumped forms, but not much else besides. A heavy case on the floor with several bolted locks on the front, metal hinges on the wooden case.

Everyone inside was dead.

I slung my rifle across my back, grabbed for the case, but I couldn’t move it alone.

“Buck, keep ‘em pinned down, everybody else here!” Rance called out, Skinny Jimmy appeared on the other side, he jumped into the coach, grabbed the other side of the case, and heaved.

It broke loose, he shimmied over and I backed up, we staggered away from the coach.

Nearby, Jesse came around the corner with a one-horse cart. We got the crate into the cart–

“Skinny, go on with the box! You too,” Rance pointed at me, I jumped up on the buck board, took my Winchester in my hands.

Jesse whipped the horse, it dug in and pulled away fast. He steered us into an alley, got off the main street, cut through the narrow space between two buildings, emerged on the next street.

Jimmy sat in the back with his rifle, half-sprawled on the crate.

“That’s a damn good time,” Jesse said. “A damn good goddamn time.”

Jesse was older, had rough stubble on his chin constantly, fewer teeth than most, old eyes. But he was great with horses and he could always round up a cart or two when we needed one.

I looked around for someone who wanted to shoot back, but there was no one.

“Slow down,” I said, as Jesse took another corner. I tugged my bandana down, “Skinny, sit up.”

“We’re not clear yet though!”

“Look around, look at all the other traffic.”

There were carts all over. Folks pulling all kinds of loads up and down Leadville. “Who are we amongst all’a them?” I asked. “Cool off, keep your gun down. We ain’t runnin’, we’re just out for a ride, right?”

“Sure thing,” Jesse said. “Just goin’ on a nice morning spin.”

“Exactly.” I laid my rifle across my knees, lowered the hammer. “We’re fine.”

I kept my eyes up, however. Looked for someone ready to holler.

But there was nothing.

We got to the edge of town, where the houses were spaced further apart. The thick mud of more populous Leadville gave way to drier ground, and grass near the barn we pulled up to.

I jumped out, grabbed the barn door, opened up. Jesse got the cart and the horse inside, and I watched, waited for the others.

I didn’t see them behind me, immediately, so I closed up. “Skinny, you know where I post up in that shack up the road?”

“Sure, only got the one window.”

“Head on over there. Whistle if you see lawmen.”

“Got it.” He grabbed his rifle, headed up the road.

Jesse sat on the bench, and sighed. “How much you think we snagged?”

“Client said it weighed a hundred pounds,” I said. “If that’s true, I’m the goddamn mayor.”

“Oh you know those city folk,” he said. “Can’t reckon the real weight of nothin’.”

“Sure.”

“You want some coffee?”

“I’m good. Keep your eyes out, if you’re gonna whip something up though.”

“We’re not gonna get ambushed here.” He said. “Because that’d require someone knowing where we were.”

“We know,” I said. “And the client knows. And I got no idea who might’ve been told beyond that circle. Which is, in my estimation, entirely too many folks.”

“Relax, kid.” Jesse said. “Trust ain’t a bad idea. And this ain’t that kinda gang.”

“Is it not?”

He shrugged, but had no other answer.

I watched the road. And waited.

End of Chapter One